#he can sense intentions emotions and fears. the first two are a survival mechanism and the last is a vengeful spirit thing

[cryptids-lobelia-garden]

Lol sorry this is a day late I was honoring the April 1 strike for Palestine and then yesterday my internet was really slow and Tumblr draft edit wouldn’t work

Anyway.

Warnings: idk how these work please lemme know if I need to tag anything else but uh. Manipulative/kinda creepy whumper, a conditioned whumpee and his self destructive/self sacrificial tendencies, caretaker was hurt by whumpee in the past (not in a whump way just in a whumpee tried to destroy the world and caretaker had to stop him way) but he’s grown over the time they’ve been apart and come to understand the whumpee’s actions, uh. This is Pokémon and I’m going with a nuanced take of some of them are sapient and some aren’t and caretaker is very much a Pokémon, also whumpee is a canon character and might act OOC for. Reasons that will hopefully be revealed over the course of this month if I can get this challenge done :D oh also I follow canon VERY loosely bc there’s like three different canons and I’m here to have fun not to police my story writing so uh. Ye

Anyway, there’s also some mind control in there, some frostbite, some.. It’s like a chemical burn sort of, some dissociative panic attack flavored stuff, uh. Animal attack? Oh yeah and dismemberment lol- this one is. A little. Uh. Yeah

Oh and if you see these characters on another account ask that account if it’s me before getting upset bc uh. I have posted abt them on my main before

Anyway. Yeah. Enjoy this, uh. Please don’t judge me I can’t get these freaks out of my head hsjdjdjd

Day 1: Limp

Reunited Arc Part 1

~~~~~

It was supposed to just be a normal day off.

Cheri was headed to Celestic City to meet with a historian, to answer questions about Dialga and the Diamond Clan.

He’s taking the train, since he didn’t feel like walking all that way or making any of his Pokémon carry him.

It was supposed to be a normal day, but he sees a familiar face, and he has to do a double take.

Long blond hair, one eye covered, tied in its usual messy bun in the back. A shining silver eye, which is currently focused on a watch on their own wrist. Cheri would’ve guessed that was Cynthia, but he’s a guy, and he’s wearing a form-fitting black turtleneck tank top, a denim jacket over it.

The modern clothes on him are such a foreign sight.

But there’s no mistaking it.

Volo.

Cheri feels his blood freeze near instantly. A few people step away as the space around him begins to grow cold, a breeze of malice brushing through the air.

Volo hasn’t noticed him yet, and Cheri’s debating between just leaving and confronting the man.

Celestic Town is pretty close to Mount Coronet, but Cheri has prior arrangements. If he decides to go after Volo, he might not make it to the city on time, if at all. And someone guards the mountain now after Cyrus, right? So it’s not like Volo will be able to actually get there.

Unless he takes a path that isn’t through the caves. But even then, Arceus will be fine, they’re a god, it’s fine.

Maybe Cheri should just avoid all this and ride a bike to town. He left himself enough time to, after all.

But the train doors close, making Cheri’s choice for him. He can’t just say nothing.

So he steps forward.

“Hey.”

Volo looks up from his watch, eyes wide. “Hello- I’m sorry, am I in your way?” Who is this? He looks familiar..

Cheri shakes no. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Volo stops, staring at the stranger(?) for a moment. He knows me. Who is this? Usually, when people are angry at me in this time, it’s because they’ve mistaken me for Cynthia. But it seems like this one’s here for ME, not her-

His eyes widen. He goes pale. Takes a step back, his voice quiet enough that only the man in front of him hears it. “Cheri.” The one of the siblings I ESPECIALLY did NOT want to run into.

I don’t have time for this! Not now- of all the times I could have run into him, it had to be this last mission?

He pushes his thoughts aside, putting on a grin and trying to act like everything’s fine.

“Haha, it’s fancy seeing you here! What a coincidence!” I can’t do this right now! I’m on a time limit- this is THE WORST possible timing for this to happen, so of course it does.

“What a coincidence indeed,�� Cheri says, voice low, taking another step forward as Volo takes a step back.

Volo’s smiling, that same pleasant grin Cheri remembers from all those years ago. But Cheri knows it’s a lie, can sense the fear coming off the man.

“Why are you headed to Mount Coronet? You and I both know you shouldn’t be there.”

“Listen, I can explain, but I don’t have much time- but I am not here for Arceus.” Cheri doesn’t seem convinced, so he keeps talking. “I’m here to protect Arceus, actually, from someone much worse than I am.”

“Hm. A likely story.” Cheri starts reading his emotions a little more.

“I swear on my life, that’s behind me.” Please, please, please please PLEASE believe me. I know you have every reason not to, after what I’ve done, but please just listen.

Cheri hums, thinking this over for a moment.

He doesn’t sense any lies from the man, strangely enough. He lets his magic push forward a little further, sensing for Volo’s intentions.

He doesn’t sense anything to do with Arceus at all, actually. No lies, no deceit.

Interesting..

Volo shivers as he feels a cold chill brushing through him, though the pleasant mask of a smile stays firmly in place. They reach their stop. I need to get away. He turns on his heel. “Well, I’ll be seeing you around-” Cheri’s hand is on his shoulder, and he tenses, breath catching in his throat. Please have mercy. Whatever you’re about to do, just don’t hurt me too badly.

Cheri’s voice is quiet, his expression grim. “You’re on a suicide mission, aren’t you.”

Shock, surprise. He shakes his head, smile growing strained. “Wh- how did you-” Volo clears his throat, turning back to smile at Cheri. “It doesn’t matter. No matter what happens, whether it’s him who dies or me, the problem will be over. And I’m probably not going to die anyway. Why?”

Cheri frowns, thinking that over for a few moments. Him? I’m assuming that’s who he’s saying he’s protecting Arceus from? If Volo dies, doesn’t that mean the problem isn’t technically over? Because we still have someone out there who’s willing to attack Arceus to further a goal. And if Volo, of all people, thinks this guy could KILL him, with Pokémon as powerful as his.. “..I’m coming with you.”

Why? What does he want out of this? “He is dangerous. You shouldn’t come with, he could kill you, and I am not worth it.” How much does he know? How did he know?

“Well, that’s all the more reason for me to come with.” If this guy really is as much of a threat as Volo says he is, I need to make sure this guy doesn’t get anywhere near the creation quartet. The two step off the train, and Cheri crosses his arms, head tilting to the side. “If you’re telling the truth, it sounds like this guy needs to be taken out.”

Volo looks up at Cheri for a second, opening his mouth to argue, and Cheri ignores his own annoyance, interrupting before Volo starts.

“I’ve fought gods. I’ve fought you. I’m sure I can take this guy out just fine.”

Volo frowns. “You should want me dead, you know-”

“No. Nope.” Cheri pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shut up with that, I’m not gonna listen to you talk about yourself like that.” Because as angry as I am at him for everything..

I can’t bring myself to hate him. Can’t bring myself to hate anyone, really, but ESPECIALLY not him.

We’re the same, after all.

Volo shuts his mouth, keeping the surprise off his face. I betrayed him and his siblings. Am I not just speaking truth? “..okay. ..I’ll explain while we walk, but we need to hurry.” I really am not worth it. But.. I doubt I’ll be able to talk him out of this. He always was stubborn, even more so than his sister at times..

What does he want, coming with me on this? Perhaps he’s just making sure I’m telling the truth about not being after Arceus, but then if he knows how dangerous this mission is..

..What should I tell him? What should I leave out? He needs to know at least some of the situation. Maybe if he knows it’s no real threat to anyone except me, he’ll leave the situation be? He knows I deserve this, after all, was on the receiving end of my worst mistake..

Cheri follows the man, who seems to be lost in thought, and he soon gets lost in his own. Who is “he”..? I could look into his fears and see.. no, that’s too invasive. Even for Volo.

..I really don't know much about him, Hisui was so long ago.. And even back then, he tried to avoid being around me as much as he could. He could tell I didn’t trust him. He hung out with Ana and Keyo much more often. But..

He looks up at Volo. Volo looks back, smiling that pleasant smile again. But it’s tense. Almost strained. Cheri gives as reassuring of a smile as he can, but it only seems to make the guy more tense, so Cheri looks away.

I’m pretty sure that this isn’t like him. He manipulated my siblings and I into helping him collect the Plates, avoiding the dangerous work for himself; it isn’t like him to do something so dangerous like this.

Cheri carefully looks at Volo out of the corner of his eye, studying Volo’s face for a moment. His eyes glow as he looks into Volo’s emotions, grimacing when he feels a wave of anxiety and self hatred and quickly stopping, pulling his magic away.

Whoa..

..He doesn’t feel the same. I don’t feel the sense of untrustworthiness I did back then.

I wish I had a hold on my powers then, because I don’t have any idea how different he truly is, I have no clue if that self hatred was there before, but I know for a FACT the anxiety wasn’t. I can see it even without my abilities.

Volo’s looking around at every face as they walk. It’s hard to notice the nerves behind the pleasant smile, but Cheri can tell from how tense he’s holding his shoulders, a tenseness that didn’t exist back in Hisui.

And his eyes are.. darker, somehow, and his breath hitches every so often as people look at him.

And he looks sick. He has eyebags dark enough they almost look like bruises. He’s pale- even more so than he was back then.

He’s still smiling, but something about the smile is even more fake than it used to be; at least in Hisui, the confidence was real.

What happened to take his confidence?

They’re around less people now, and Volo takes a breath, turning to look at the trail. “So!” Volo claps his hands together with a fake chipper attitude. “The man we’re going after.. His name is Eclipse.”

With the name, Cheri notices fear.

Memories.

He doesn’t look into them, that’s invasive, but he can tell they’re there. That’s not good.

“He’s..” Volo thinks for a moment. “..Not a good man.” Then he points into the air, finger wagging as he talks. “And he’s leading me straight into a trap! And he likely knows that I know that it’s a trap. And he also knows that I’m going to come anyway, whether I know it’s a trap or not. But!” Volo turns to Cheri suddenly, pointing at him with a smile. “If I walk into the trap, he’ll stop everything he’s doing. He only wants me. I mean, he also wants to take revenge on- well, that doesn’t matter, but he’ll stop if I give myself to him.”

“If you what?” Cheri’s staring to get genuinely worried, eyebrows furrowing. “Volo, who is this guy?”

“Someone who gave me what I deserve,” Volo says quickly, then he shakes his head. “It really doesn’t matter. Go home, this doesn’t concern you.”

“Arceus is part of it, and you are too, so uh. Yeah. It does concern me, actually.” Damnit, that wasn’t supposed to sound so pointed. I’m WORRIED, about HIM, not about Arceus.

Volo shakes his head. “Really, it’s fine. I’m not here to do anything to Arceus. No plates, no flute, you can check my bag if you want. I’m just here for Eclipse. I’m here to try to take him down, and if that doesn’t work, well.. The problem will be gone either way!”

There’s a sour taste in Cheri’s mouth. Something’s very, very wrong here. “So, what, you’re just gonna let this guy take you and do Arceus knows what?”

“It’s deserved.” Volo smiles at him again, though it’s more strained and looks much more like he’s pleading. “Please, just leave, this is not worth your safety.”

“Nope. No, not happening. I’m coming with you whether you like it or not, you’re not gonna talk me out of it now.” This whole situation.. Whatever’s going on, it really seems like it’s MUCH worse than he deserved. Prison maybe, I could see that. Maybe getting grabbed by a time traveler who could teach him about exactly why what he did was dangerous.

But something tells me someone went way too far.

Volo’s smile grows more strained. “..I was afraid of that,” he murmurs, then he shakes his head. “Well. Hm. ..okay. I.. suppose this might be a good thing. He probably thinks that I’m not coming with backup- I wasn’t planning to, so.” Volo shakes his head, smile fading entirely as he turns back to the trail up Mount Coronet. “Anyway.. He has been collecting legendary and mythical Pokémon from different times and places. We’re not sure what all he has- we know for sure he has Regiice, Azelf, and possibly the other two lake spirits, as well as the Red Chain.”

Who is “we”?? Wait. SHIT. Cheri’s neck snaps he turns to Volo so fast. “He has the red chain?”

Volo, fairly used to ghost-type shenanigans, barely bats an eye. He just nods, a grim look on his face. “And he’s going after Arceus with it.”

“That’s.. not good.” Cheri turns back to the trail, frowning down at it and kicking a few pebbles forward. “But if he takes you, the problem’s over? Why?”

Volo thinks for a moment. “He’s.. very angry with me, and it’s me specifically that he’s after, despite the situation,” he says. Cheri can tell Volo’s verbally stepping around details, so he stays quiet, waiting for Volo to explain. “..I caused him to lose everything he had.”

“..with the rift, or..?”

“Oh, no, not like that.” Volo quickly shakes his head, hands waving. “No, he just..” Volo grimaces, looking away, what Cheri would have been able to see of his face hidden behind his hair. “He.. Well. He did some pretty bad things to me. Which! That was deserved, really, you know I deserved them.” Cheri grimaces. He keeps saying that it’s deserved.. it’s putting a bad taste in my mouth. Before Cheri can say anything, Volo keeps talking. “But when Management saw what he did, they kicked him from-” He shakes his head. “You know, I actually don’t think I’m supposed to talk about that. Forget I said anything about Management.”

“Okay.” So, he was in some secret club or something, and this Eclipse guy hurt him and got kicked out over it. “..the hell you mean ‘it’s deserved’? What did he do?”

Volo’s lips press into a thin line for a moment, then he glances at his watch. “Oh, look at the time!” Volo grimaces as he looks at the cave through the mountain. “We should hurry, let’s leave the path and just climb it, this cave system must be new; I am unfamiliar with it.”

Okay, he’s avoiding the question. Cheri frowns, ignoring the annoyance stewing in his gut and following Volo off the path. Then Eclipse must have done something pretty bad.

Or maybe he’s just a very private person. He avoided questions a lot back in Hisui.

Then again, in Hisui, he had a lot of things to hide.

..What is this club he was in? Some sort of evil team? But if it is, why would they have sent him to PROTECT Arceus from this Eclipse guy?

Given our past, I’d think he was lying if I couldn’t tell. He is so incredibly lucky I have the ability to tell.

“..so. He’s got a bunch of legendaries. Why are they with him?”

“They’re not with him willingly,” Volo explains, finding a good spot on a cliffside to start climbing. “He has this device, it’s from the future- Ah! Did I mention he’s from the future? Anyway, he has this device, which is controlling them through technologically created psychic power. They don’t want this, so we need to try to avoid hurting them, so the hoppers can bring them home- they’re from different times, he’s been jumping through time to take them.”

Cheri blinks a few times, head tilting to the side in confusion. “Hoppers?? Jumping through time???” Holy shit, wait, was I accidentally right about a time traveler grabbing him?

I guess it makes sense how he’s here then.

“It’s a very long story.” One I am probably not allowed to tell you. Well.. I might be able to, considering the fact that technically, you’re a time traveler. One chosen by Arceus, no less. But.. I don’t want to drag you into this mess. Not any more than I already have, anyway. Volo shakes his head. “Anyway, we’re not sure what exactly he’s controlling them through, but we believe it’s his bracelet.”

“Gotcha.” Cheri frowns. “So, don’t hurt the legendaries, break his bracelet.”

“Exactly.” Getting to the top of the cliffside, Volo turns around to pull Cheri up, though Cheri waves him off, he doesn’t need the help. “And try not to get hurt yourself.”

Cheri nods, smirking. “Thanks, Sherlock.”

Volo blinks a few times in confusion. “..Sherlock..?”

“It’s a reference- there’s this book-” Cheri shakes his head. “Nevermind.” Noticing a sneasel sneaking up on him, he snarls at it, letting an illusion lash towards it. It squeaks in fear, running off. “Sorry, can’t risk it with dark types.”

“No, that’s fine.” I already knew he wasn’t human anyway, though it’s interesting to see him actually use his abilities.

However, it IS a little frightening.

Was that meant to be a show of power, or was he genuinely just scaring it off?

What exactly does he want with me?

Volo turns, and they keep walking, an uncomfortable silence falling between the two.

“..you know.. I have time.”

Volo looks over at him in confusion.

“For a long story I mean.”

“This isn’t one you want to hear,” Volo quickly says. Please don’t ask again.

Luckily for Volo, Cheri just looks at him for a moment, almost seeming to study him. Volo shudders at the way Cheri seems to be staring straight into his soul.

Then Cheri nods, turning to the next cliffside to climb in silence.

Volo watches him for a moment longer before turning back to climb. ..He doesn’t trust me. I can tell. He might never trust me again, and honestly, that would be warranted.

It’s really unfortunate timing, that this has happened now, of all times. Right now, when I’m doing something important. One last thing before there’s nothing left for me to do, nothing left that I can fix.

..I suppose if I survive this, I can let him and his siblings decide my fate afterwards. Those three were the ones most directly affected by my actions.. Then they’ll get the final decision, if it isn’t made here.

..for now, though.. I can, at the very least, try to give him closure.

“..I.. want to apologize,” Volo mutters.

Cheri turns to look at him, subconsciously checking his intentions, and oh, this is a genuine apology. “Hm?”

“For.. Not only the rift, and pulling you and your siblings from your home, but also for betraying the three of you. ..I hope you know it wasn’t just.. It wasn’t all just manipulation. You three were some of the few people I could genuinely consider friends, had I not been holding you all at arms length.” I might as well be genuine. Maybe in return, he’ll do the same..

No. I shouldn’t hope, I don’t get to hope, but..

It would be nice, if it was something I deserved.

Cheri blinks a few times as he feels the sincerity. Interesting.. “..They’re going to want apologies too, you know. ..thanks, by the way, that.. actually means a lot.” He looks up the mountain, thinking for a moment. “..You really have changed, haven’t you.”

Volo hums, making a so-so gesture. “I’d like to think so.”

“..I forgive you, you know.” Cheri shakes his head. “Honestly, I did a long time ago. What you did was fucked up, don’t get me wrong, and a LOT of people got hurt that shouldn’t have. But.. I dunno.” He shakes his head. “..I can understand your reasoning.” What I learned about him, about his people..

Volo stops, looking over at Cheri with confusion. He forgives me..? Why? It doesn’t make sense to me. What does he have to gain? I don’t know if I should trust this, that might be exactly what he’s aiming for. “Really?” Volo looks up to meet Cheri’s eyes.

Confusion, a hint of fear, and Cheri realizes he should explain. “I wouldn’t ever do the same thing you did, don’t get me wrong. But the world really is full of unnecessary suffering.” Cheri shakes his head. “And.. if I’m right about where you came from, you’ve dealt with a lot of it, right?”

How much does he know about me? And how does he know it? Why does he know it?

Volo doesn’t let his uneasiness show on his face, humming noncommittally. “It doesn’t excuse my actions. I ended up bringing harm to a lot of people.” I don’t deserve forgiveness. “..Thank you, though,” he murmurs.

Cheri studies him for a moment. So, the self loathing is probably from the rift and everything surrounding it, at least partially.. Not sure what the uneasiness is about, but he doesn’t like something about me. It might just be the whole zoroark thing, but it’s been growing, so maybe it’s something I’ve been saying or something? “Don’t mention it.” He looks up, getting to the top of the cliff they’re climbing and offering a hand to pull Volo up, which Volo takes.

They’re about halfway up the mountain now. The air’s growing colder- though Cheri can’t really feel the cold himself, Volo’s pulling his clothes a little tighter around himself.

..conversation topic.. Oh, the plan. “So.. About this Eclipse guy..”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Volo says quickly.

“No, I wasn’t asking what he did, don’t worry.” I don’t want to push him too much, he’s wary. “I just want to know, he’s trying to kill you, right? Do you want him alive, or? If you’re, uh.. taking him out, what’re we doing with him after? What’s the plan?”

“You don’t have to worry about that, he’ll be taken care of either way, and.. alive would be preferred, but if he dies, I.. don’t really care.” Maybe that’s a little harsh.. Well. Maybe I’m allowed to be a little harsh. Volo shakes his head. “However, I would like to be able to capture him and bring him in. I.. have some questions that I want to ask him, with prison bars separating him from me, of course.”

Cheri hums, studying Volo’s expression for a moment, sensing the emotions behind it. Is that.. Pain? Exhaustion?

Concern? ..Overthinking, maybe..?

“..What sorts of questions?”

Volo shakes his head. “..I just.. hm.”

I don’t know how to word this. I want to know why he did it. I want to know why, out of EVERYONE he could have chosen, every timespace criminal he had access to, he chose ME to hurt.

“..I want closure.”

Cheri hums, looking away. “..He might not give you that. Talking to him might make it worse, you know.”

Volo turns to Cheri with a glare, hissing “You know nothing about him, or my situation.”

Cheri’s a little surprised by the sudden anger in the air, though it’s understandable, he doesn’t blame Volo for it. After a moment of thought, trying to figure out what to say, he shrugs. “I might know next to nothing about the situation, but I know trauma when I see it.” He glances over at Volo, letting his eyes flash, a subtle reminder of his abilities. “He hurt you, yeah? On purpose, I’m guessing.”

..Just how much does he know..? And what is he trying to get out of knowing this about me?

He’s right, and it scares me. Does he know because of an ability? Did he look into my fears? Or did he figure it out on his own?

Volo turns away, the silence giving Cheri all the answer he needs.

Shit. It seems like trying to bridge the gap is just making things worse.. Honestly, I should’ve expected this, got too personal too fast.

Well. There’s no point in dropping the conversation at this point. He can try to make me leave, but it’s not gonna work, I need to make sure this Eclipse guy doesn’t fuck with Arceus. And besides..

I’m worried. About Volo, of all people. That’s saying something. “..And he’s trying to kill you even now.. I doubt he’ll give you closure.” Cheri turns away, frowning. “If anything, talking to him might make things worse.” It made it worse when I talked to Keyo’s bio parents, after all. Dickheads will be dickheads, it’ll always hurt to talk to em.

“Perhaps.” Volo shakes his head. My pain shouldn’t matter to you. You can’t actually care, especially not with everything I’ve done to you, so..

It must matter to you because you want me hurt.

“..Let’s talk about something else, shall we?” And if you do somehow care, you shouldn’t get attached to me anyway, you shouldn’t get attached to someone who deserves a bad fate. It’ll only hurt you.

“Hm.” ..yeah. He’s probably done talking now. Cheri looks up the mountain, squinting as the sun hits his eyes. “..Not much further now.”

Volo nods, checking his watch. “The readings said he will appear in the cave that leads to Cloudcap Pass.”

“Alright. So we get to the pass, then go to the cave from there?”

Volo nods. “And then we’ll wait until he arrives.”

“Right.”

They climb in silence until they reach the top, coming out near the destroyed temple. Cheri takes a deep breath, taking in the air.

This place feels as holy as it always did, the presence of the gods closer here than it is anywhere else in the region, and he feels the power of Arceus’s blessing within him shift.

They’re watching.

Volo glances over at the spear pillar, an unreadable expression on his face, and Cheri senses a spike of guilt. Then he turns away from it, wordlessly heading to the cave, a grim determination filling his gut as he lets his Pokémon out.

Cheri lets his own Pokémon out too. He hadn’t been expecting a battle today, but most of his Pokémon are pretty strong anyway, so it should be fine. He’s got Sprigs with him, and Sprigs doesn’t fight, so he was left in his ball. But Cheri has a few with him that do fight, some of the ones that he hasn’t spent much time with recently. Hydra, Eelectra, Zigzag, Tiktok, and Sylvie- his hydreigon, eelektross, linoone, galvantula, and sylveon, respectively- all can fight. And in the worst case scenario, he can fight too.

Recognition. Feeling a pulse of emotional energy towards him, he turns to look at Volo’s Lucario, who’s staring at him with confusion and a little bit of fear. Cheri takes a breath, summoning up feelings of forgiveness, knowing the other Pokémon can read them. After a moment, the Lucario nods, pushing another feeling towards him. Friendliness, a gesture of goodwill. That is SO much better than what I got from his trainer. Cheri smiles, letting the feeling rise in his chest and sending it back, then he looks over at Volo.

Volo looks normal on the outside, but Cheri can tell he’s terrified, can feel the feeling seeping off him even without reaching towards him with his abilities.

“Hey,” Cheri says, resting a hand on Volo’s shoulder.

He nearly pulls away when Volo flinches, but then Volo leans slightly into the kind touch, looking up at him with wide eyes.

He’s touching me. Why is he touching me. I..

Why am I.. not all that scared of it..?

“I’ve got your back. You’re gonna be okay,” Cheri mutters. If you’re gonna die, he’s gotta get through me first.

Volo stares at him for a moment, then nods, his smile becoming a bit more genuine, though there’s sadness in his eyes. Oh. This is genuine kindness?

I should have expected it from Arceus’s chosen.

..I really don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t get attached to me. He opens his mouth to speak, but then his watch starts to blare, an alarm that he quickly moves to silence, expression hardening. “He’s coming,” Volo says, pressing a button on his watch. A hologram pops up, indicating a specific location, and Volo turns it off and takes a step away from there, staring at it, getting low to the ground, ready to dodge at a moment’s notice. Okay. I can do this. All I need is to last long enough to break that bracelet. His Pokémon quickly surround him, protective. Cheri motions for his own to do the same, and they quickly get into battle-ready stances.

The group stands in silence, staring at the spot, waiting with bated breath.

And then a portal opens, and Volo’s garchomp snarls, dashing forward.

“Ah- Shark, wait-!”

But it’s too late. Shark is thrown into the nearest wall, a Mewtwo holding him there. He snarls, kicking at the walls, the ground, trying to escape the psychic grasp, but it’s no use. Should I recall him and let him back out? I don’t know if that would work, don’t know if I could move quickly enough-

“Well, hello there,” someone says.

The voice is unfamiliar to Cheri.

But Volo stiffens even further.

Goosebumps rise on his arms.

Cheri can feel the fear seeping off him as he turns to stare into the portal.

The strange man steps forwards, grinning. “That’s not the friendliest welcome.”

“Eclipse,” Volo mutters, shrinking back. Shrinking back.

What the hell did he do, to make Volo react like that? Cheri looks over to Eclipse, taking in the high-tech bracelets on his arms, the look in his eyes.

He’s immediately hit with the man’s aura as he reaches his powers out, a sense of complete malice washing over him, and his eyes narrow as he braces himself against it, subconsciously baring his teeth.

“I can’t let you near Arceus,” Volo says, taking a step forward despite his fear, his Pokémon moving with him.

Eclipse waves his right hand, and a few more legendaries appear.

Volo stops moving forward. The whole cave is at a standstill.

Cheri notices strange yellow wires around the legendaries’ forms, feels psychic energy coming off of them, and then his eyes narrow as he notices a small yellow bracelet on Eclipse’s wrist. It’s barely noticeable, but it matches the wires. That must be the one.

“You know what I want,” Eclipse says. Volo’s Pokémon growl, protectively moving between the two. “All you need to do is come quietly, and all this can end. You know you deserve what’ll happen to you. It’ll save the world, even; it’ll finally redeem you, to prevent the same thing you did from happening again.”

And his grin widens, the malice surrounding im grows stronger.

“Don’t you want that?”

The manipulation leaves a bad taste in Cheri’s mouth, but he looks over at Volo, waiting to see how the interaction plays out.

“..I..” I do deserve it, but I still have my Pokémon to take care of. I don’t want to leave them behind, but if this doesn’t work, if I attack him and it ends up being for nothing, will he hurt them as retaliation for my actions?

..If I just go with, I won’t have to worry. They will be at least a little safer. The land may be different in this time, but it’s still their home region, and I trust they’ll be able to take care of themselves if needed, but..

“Are you going to return the legendaries to where you got them if I do?”

Volo’s pokemon make sounds of protests, but he holds up a hand to keep them quiet.

“Of course. I only needed them for this, after all.”

Okay. Fuck this. Cheri steps forward suddenly. “He isn’t going anywhere with you,” Cheri spits, moving between the two himself.

“And who are you? His new toy?” Eclipse sneers. “He’ll only betray you, you know; he’s betrayed everyone he’s ever gotten close to. He’ll manipulate you and then throw you aside, like he always has.”

Cheri feels the way Volo shrinks back, feels the guilt pooling off the man, and he snarls. Gods. Why does every powerful man I meet have to be SUCH a DICK? “Shut the fuck up. You think I don’t know the risks? I’m one of the guys he betrayed, and you’re still wrong for treating him like this.”

Eclipse raises an eyebrow, a spark of curiosity in his eye. “Oh really?” He tilts his head to the side. “Haven’t you noticed he’s better now? Haven’t you noticed he’s not going to try anything anymore? That change is because of me. Really, the world is better off with him in my hands-”

Cheri rushes forward. He’s reaching for the bracelet on Eclipse’s wrist, aiming to break it, and the other Pokémon in the cave rush forwards with him.

Within seconds, Mewtwo flings a bunch of their Pokémon out of the cave. Zigzag, Hydra, and Volo’s Spiritomb are frozen in a huge block of ice that Cheri narrowly avoids himself. Galarian Moltres flies past him as he dodges another blast of ice. There’s something glowing electric blue over there, but Cherry doesn’t see what it is before another ice blast blocks his vision.

Cheri can’t see Volo, but he knows Volo has Sylvie and his lucario with him, so he focuses on dodging Regiice’s attacks. With an angry scream, fire blasts from his throat, knocking Regiice out cold. One last blast of ice manages to catch his arm, and Cheri yelps as frostbite sets in-

Volo screams, a sound that reeks of agony, a bloodcurdling sound that makes Cheri’s heart drop, and he turns to Eclipse, letting his true form show, ten feet of pure protective rage aiming for Eclipse’s wrist-

Mesprit. Blast of emotion. Panic.

Frenzy.

Magic rushing in his ears. Time blurring together. Screaming, sounds so far away.

Blood flying through the air. An arm, mangled human arm, on the ground, blood pooling, blood in his mouth, between his teeth, on his hands, broken bracelet, mutilated flesh.

He tries to breathe. Everything sounds underwater, the world spinning, spinning, out of his control.

Out of control.

Out of control.

Out of control, he’s out of control-

Ribbon around his arm. A sense of calm pushes the panic away. He’s left on the ground, gasping, catching his breath, residual shakes leaving him exhausted, shifting back to his human form on instinct.

He looks up after a few moments, looking up at Sylvie, who’s staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“h.. Hey, buddy,” Cheri murmurs, gently scratching the top of Sylvie’s head. “You okay?”

Sylvie makes a sound, butting his head against Cheri’s chest before pulling away and dashing around the chunk of ice.

Cheri recalls the Pokémon who are still stuck in the ice, then stands on shaky legs, hurrying after Sylvie- Oh no.

Volo’s on the ground.

Cheri can’t tell if he’s conscious or not.

He rushes to Volo’s side, his uninjured hand hovering over the man, trying to figure out what’s wrong-

“Cheri,” a weak voice, and Cheri looks up at Volo’s face.

Contorted with agony. He reaches out with his magic to see where the pain is, burning blasts through his side. He pulls back.

“Is- is he gone?” Volo asks.

“Yeah, I- I think I got him, I think he’s gone,” Cheri mutters, rolling Volo over despite Volo’s cry of pain.

His shirt’s stained black in a large spot on his side. Cherry pulls it up to see a huge burn. It’s.. odd, though, it’s not a normal burn. The area around is stained black, but it isn’t charred, nothing is charred. It almost looks more like a poison than anything.

Cheri can feel the dark-type energy coming off it, sapping his own energy, and he takes a shaking breath through his mouth, trying to will away the feeling as he scoops Volo up. Volo lets out a pained sound at being moved. “Sorry,” Cheri mutters with a grimace, trying to ignore how hard it is to move his hand, how numb his arm is. Once he’s sure Volo is securely in his arms despite that, he gets Volo’s Spiritomb in its ball, then runs out of the cave.

“‘S fine, deserved,” Volo mutters, eyes slipping shut as he leans into Cheri. Cheri takes Volo’s pokeballs and recalls the injured Pokémon he finds scattered around the outside of the cave. “Can.. can you take care of them for me..?”

It’s all Cheri can do to not scream, shakes running through his entire body. “Shut up. Don’t do this shit, you’re not dying on me.” I came here to protect you, and by Arceus, I’m gonna do it.

Volo laughs, an exhausted, mirthless sound, even as a tear slips down his cheek. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay. I deserve this. It’s okay.”

“Shut up!” Shit, I’m being a little harsh. Gods. Fuck. “Sorry, actually, don’t shut up. But stop that. You don’t deserve it.” As he talks, Cheri quickly recalls the rest of their pokemon, then he gets back to running down the mountain, not even bothering going through the caves, he knows where he’s going. He shifts back to his true form so he can jump down cliffs and land it, jumping over tree roots and fallen logs, trying his best not to jostle Volo too much.

Volo’s taking shuddering breaths, silent tears slipping down his cheeks, but he doesn’t complain at all. Self hatred, agony, and a sense of utter hopelessness is coming off of him, all of it is mixed with acceptance.

He genuinely believes he deserves this, Cheri realizes, a sick feeling building in his gut. Fucking hell.

“Why’re you doing this?” Volo murmurs, looking up into Cheri’s eyes. “You can’t seriously want to help me. What’s your motive? ”

“Is it so hard to believe I could genuinely like helping people?” Cheri spits.

He was aware of the way his voice echoes in this form, but Volo flinches at the sound.

And it reminds him that, yes, it is.

He isn’t human, after all. He isn’t even living.

He’s a vengeful spirit.

And sure, he chooses not to indulge that side of himself.

But how is Volo supposed to know that?

“Sorry, sorry,” Volo murmurs, breath hitching slightly as Cheri jumps down a cliff. Blood starts to drip down his side, and Cheri internally curses.

“It’s fine,” Cheri says, setting Volo down and tearing off pieces of his own shirt to start packing the wound and make a quick makeshift bandage. “Talk about something, anything, just.. Just keep talking.”

Volo winces in pain. “..You know the Pokémon that got me? Galarian Moltres?” He looks away, eyes unfocused. “Some say it burns your very spirit away.” He laughs, though the laugh turns into coughs. “I must be very lucky that mine’s still intact, ahaha- Ow!”

“Sorry.” Having tied the makeshift bandage tight, he quickly scoops Volo back up. “What else about galarian Moltres do you know? Any interesting legends? Anything?”

“G-galar was never really my focus,” he mutters, taking a few steadying breaths- they’re shallow, it hurts him to breathe. “I’m just..” He lets out a quiet wheeze, resting his head against Cheri’s shoulder.

There’s exhaustion radiating off him, Cheri realizes, and Cheri gets running again.

“Don’t go to sleep, I don’t know what happens if you do,” he mutters.

“Mmh..” Volo shakes his head. “Trying..”

“Good. Keep talking.” Cheri takes a shaky breath. “What about normal Moltres? Any cool legends?”

“..they’ll dive into volcanoes to heal themselves,” Volo mumbles. “And they.. bring an early spring, to cold places..” His eyes slip closed.

Cheri nods. “You know the Indigo League Flame is said to have been lit with their flames?”

“Oh yeah.. I.. I remember that.. s.. Sorry, I can’t..” Volo goes limp in his arms.

“Hey, Volo, keep talking! Volo!!” Not sensing anything from the guy at all, Cheri grimaces. “SHIT!!!” Cheri moves faster, shifting back as they get to the bottom of the mountain, not wanting to be seen by anyone who doesn’t already know in any form outside of a human one.

shit shit Shit SHIT SHIT!!! Cheri bursts out of the trees, running into Eterna City, dodging around people as he heads to the nearest hospital.

He rushes into the emergency room. “We need a doctor, now!” It comes out louder than he meant it, almost echoing, though for some reason, it’s hard to hear himself anyway.

Everything feels so far away as the emergency room suddenly turns into a rush, a stretcher coming out to take Volo away. People ask what happened, and he explains as best as he can, telling them Volo got hit with a powerful dark-type attack that sapped his energy, leaving out the legendaries and the reason for the blood staining his hands and teeth.

He.. doesn’t entirely know why that’s there. He has a faint idea, but he blocks that out on purpose.

He can process that later, he can process that he probably killed a man another day.

The doctors are concerned about it, though, so he tells them it’s from the one who attacked the two of them, and they accept that answer, bringing him back soon after for his frostbitten arm.

Time seems to stretch to forever as his injury is treated, but when he’s finally left alone, allowed to leave, it feels like no time’s passed at all. He leaves the hospital, heading straight for the Pokémon center to drop off his and Volo’s Pokémon.

Relax. Just breathe, Cheri. Just relax.

Breathe.

He takes deep breaths as he walks, wrapping his arms around himself and closing his eyes, sensing people’s feelings to determine where they are so he can avoid them.

Thankfully, he makes it to the Pokémon center without an issue, setting down the pokeballs on the nurse’s desk.

“Those six are unregistered, he- he made their balls himself,” he explains, trying to ignore the shake in his voice.

The nurse scans the pokeballs. “They look registered to me..”

Sure enough, they are registered, under a Volo Discere.

“Huh.. interesting,” Cheri mutters. Did he always have a last name? I know Volo means to want. What’s Discere..? “Okay, nevermind, then. Um- I’ve gotta go, he’s hurt. Can you take care of them while I’m gone?”

“Of course, but- Wait-!” She looks up in worry as he leaves, but he doesn’t have time to chat, making his way back to the hospital.

I need to see if he’s okay.

He heads to the nearest waiting room. Someone passes by in the hall, he recognizes her as the nurse who treated him.

“Hey!” He rushes over, catching her attention. “Volo, uh, Discere- is he okay?”

“Huh? Are.. you asking about the one you came in with?” She gives a weirdly strained smile. “They’re still fixing him up, but it’s looking like he’ll pull through.”

“Okay.. okay.” Cheri lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

She nods, rushing off, and he finally lets himself relax.

Okay.

Okay, we’re okay.

Not sure what she was freaking out about, but it should be fine..

..they’ll come to me if anything happens with him, right..? I’m probably not on his emergency contacts- he probably doesn’t have those, actually- but I AM the one who brought him here..

WOULD he have emergency contacts?? His Pokémon are registered, so maybe???

Cheri sighs, sitting in one of the chairs, leaning back with his hands clasped together behind his head. He lets his eyes slip closed, taking a few deep breaths.

Whatever the case, if he needs me, if he asks for me, I’ll be here.

After a few moments, the exhaustion of the day catches up to him.

And finally, he slips into sleep, all his day’s plans forgotten.

[allthingskenobi]

Obi-Wan in Exile – Vader

(Originally published on AllThingsKenobi.com December 13, 2020)

Welcome to the first in a series of looks into Obi-Wan Kenobi’s time in exile on Tatooine between Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith and Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope. We’ve tried to mine as much Legends and canon material as possible to help guide you through some of the period’s most common and repetitive themes so that when the new Obi-Wan Kenobi series airs, you’ll be ready.

Not everything he ever did in the entire 19 years will be explored here, but as we said, we’ve tried our best to pick out the most prominent and impactful moments to give everyone a better understanding of exactly what one hermit had to endure out there all alone in the sandy deserts of Tatooine.

While Vader himself was not a common reoccurrence throughout Obi-Wan’s exile, the threat of him certainly was…well until now that is. As Vader so often does, he’s recently made his way back to the forefront of the story and will seemingly loom very large over the upcoming series, thus moving us to start with exactly what that might mean for Obi-Wan and how it might work with the canon boundaries we currently have. Yes, we understand that canon can change and probably will, but we do love a challenge.

“Vader,” Obi-Wan muttered. “Vader’s alive.”

DARK LORD: THE RISE OF DARTH VADER BY JAMES LUCENO L

Let’s start at the beginning. We have one instance in Legends where we see Obi-Wan learn that Vader survived Mustafar and it comes mere months after his exile on Tatooine begins. He first hears the name “Vader” mentioned again on the HoloNet during one of his trips into Mos Eisley and nearly faints before panicking to find a way to take Luke and run. (1) This early recognition seems to be reconfirmed in later canon as one of Ben’s greatest fears in the third year of his exile continued to be “sand crunching beneath heavy black boots, a dark cape billowing in the desert squall, the mechanical wheeze of a respirator.” (2) So will we see Obi-Wan only just learning of Vader’s fate in the tenth year of his exile? I’d say that’s highly doubtful unless the show provides a flashback for us—which we will gladly accept.

“Instead, Padmé was dead and Obi-Wan was running for his life, as stripped of everything as Vader was. Without friends, family, purpose…”

DARK LORD: THE RISE OF DARTH VADER BY JAMES LUCENO L

At the same time, Vader was also very convinced that Obi-Wan was still alive and would remain so despite his greatest efforts. Because if there was one thing Vader was good at it, it was holding a grudge like he held a lightsaber, and he would expend quite a bit of energy over the 19 years between episodes III and IV searching for his old Master. (Just ask anyone he comes across in the comics.) Oh, and let’s not forget that it’s also Vader who would later inform a disbelieving Tarkin, in no uncertain terms, that Obi-Wan was still alive and on the Death Star. (3)

“No, I can’t [leave],” Ben said, firmly. “I must be here.”

KENOBI BY JOHN JACKSON MILLER L

“The core of Anakin that resides in Vader grasps that Tatooine is the source of nearly everything that causes him pain. Vader will never set foot on Tatooine, if only out of fear of reawakening Anakin.”

DARK LORD: THE RISE OF DARTH VADER BY JAMES LUCENO L

Now that we’ve established that they both knew of each other’s survival, it begs the question as to why their paths never actually crossed in 19 years. Personally, I think it’s fairly simple: Obi-Wan would never leave Tatooine and Vader would never go anywhere near it. We will discuss Obi-Wan not leaving Tatooine more in-depth at a later time (and yes, we know what Ewan said about having a ‘rollicking time’), but Vader would canonically never visit his home planet until well after Obi-Wan and Luke were both gone. (4)(5) And by then it was much too late.

That brings us to the most recent ‘Obi-Wan Kenobi’ news and how that fits in with what Legends and canon have told us so far. We received a lot of exciting and thought-provoking announcements in a short amount of time, and frankly, our minds haven’t stopped spinning since. Could the show undo what we currently assume to be true? Yes. Could the show work within those same parameters? Also, yes. Do I personally have any idea what’s going to happen? No. DO I THINK THE SHOW IS GOING TO BE AMAZING NO MATTER WHAT? Y E S. The goal of this exercise is to simply try and reconcile the new details to the existing Star Wars lore because I think that’s what makes it interesting. So you can take it or leave it. The choice is yours. (Until it isn’t because the show has aired and this is all pointless.)

HERE WE GO.

“[Deborah] Chow confirmed that audiences will “definitely see Obi-Wan and Darth Vader get into it again” as we see the blue blade of a hooded Obi-Wan clash with the fiery red blade of Darth Vader.”

“McGregor knows the battle will be eagerly anticipated, and he’s looking forward to performing it just as much: “Having another swing at each other might be quite satisfying for everybody. We hope that you enjoy it as much as we’re going to enjoy making it.””

DEBORAH CHOW AND EWAN MCGREGOR DURING THE DISNEY INVESTOR’S REEL

Not only was the “Hayden Christensen returning as Darth Vader” bombshell dropped in our laps, but we were also fed the above morsels (not once but thrice) and told to digest them. Our first reaction was a hearty and well-deserved cry of rejoicing until the realization of what this could all mean set in and it turned into a hearty and well-deserved sob.

There’s hardly a way to be disappointed in the fact that we will see Ewan and Hayden not only together again, but “getting into it” as well, but we do have to wonder what this means for the moment where Obi-Wan and Vader face each other again on the Death Star. The moment is not only pivotal to Episode IV, but I would argue, the entire saga. And it’s made even more impactful by the fact that the two men have not physically confronted each other since their fateful battle on Mustafar.

What we do know, and that which should not change, is that Vader never knew where Obi-Wan was hiding nor that he had Luke, his son, with him. That tells me two things: whatever kind of “rematch” happens here does not endanger Luke’s safety in the long run nor is it probably something that would occur more than once. I think what we’re going to see happen is isolated and “unexpected,” occurring only once ten years into Obi-Wan’s exile.

You: But, All Things Kenobi, if they could never physically meet on Tatooine or elsewhere, then what does this all mean??

Us: Do we look like Deborah Chow or Ewan McGregor? Do we have all the answers for you? NO! But can we try to help ease your mind until the show airs and I’m proven all sorts of wrong?? YES! SO PUT ON THAT TINFOIL HAT AND LET’S DO THIS!!

“I sense something. A presence I’ve not felt since…”

STAR WARS EPISODE IV: A NEW HOPE C

“Obi-Wan once thought as you do.”

STAR WARS EPISODE VI: RETURN OF THE JEDI C

Instantly our minds turned to these two particular comments from Vader in Episodes IV and VI. They’ve always stood out as peculiar, demanding explanation, but even more so now. The first is a vague, open-ended statement that leaves us to assume they hadn’t met again since they parted on the slopes of Mustafar. The second is a seemingly wistful reminiscence of a memory Vader has of his old master.

Luke had just finished making a heartfelt plea for Anakin to remember his “true self” then says, “come with me.” Where did Obi-Wan make the same appeal to only be shunned by Vader as well? Is it possible the series will show us this after all these years and possibly solve the riddle of both enigmatic statements at once? Is it possible that any such conversation might quickly devolve into another lightsaber-fueled clash??

“Count Dooku was Yoda’s apprentice.”

“And Count Dooku has fallen to the dark side.”

“All of us have apprenticed to Master Yoda.”

“He cannot be held accountable for Dooku’s descent.”

“But they are connected. Profoundly.”

THE CLONE WARS 6×11 “VOICES” C

A distinct bond exists between each Padawan and Master and unfortunately that bond does not disappear when one or the other becomes a Sith Lord. Despite the bond between Obi-Wan and Anakin being firmly closed at both ends, there’s no doubt that a presence remains. And even the most sturdy walls might crack from time to time.

Even after 19 years apart, Vader is quick to recognize when Obi-Wan is nearby and goes so far as to know his intent. “Escape is not his plan. I must face him alone.” And he’s right. (3) As for Obi-Wan, the Force has plagued him with dreams and visions, even showing him “a limbless wreck hanging in a bacta tank, necrotic skin pallid and scarred.” (2)

Could their strong connection be the vehicle that allows Obi-Wan and Anakin to confront each other once more? Within the Force they could not only converse, but we could also see them “take another swing” at each other without any physical consequences no matter who “wins.” The mental toll would also make for great drama for both men and bring a new perspective and emotional weight to several scenes in the Original Trilogy.

“If you loved me, Obi-Wan, you would have killed me.”

STAR WARS: DARTH VADER 24 BY KIERON GILLEN C

Finally, it’s quite possible that Obi-Wan might not physically be involved at all in their “rematch” and it might be entirely from Vader’s perspective. One theory could be as simple as the fact that Vader once had a training droid whose deadliest combat setting took the form of his former master. (Oh, Anakin.) (6) Another theory, and a much more likely one, could be that Vader has a Force vision or dream that allows him to recreate and relive various moments between himself and Obi-Wan, including, but not limited to, another lightsaber battle. This would be interesting to witness as every time it occurs, it means that Vader is wrestling with Anakin.

Although the Obi-Wan that continues to exist in Anakin’s psyche doesn’t seem too different from the real thing, just imagine Ewan McGregor getting to play Obi-Wan from Anakin’s point of view…I’ll just drop my mic there.

Star Wars: Darth Vader 24 by Kieron Gillen (2016) C

Star Wars: Darth Vader 5 by Charles Soule (2017) C

Citations:

(1) Dark Lord: The Rise of Darth Vader by James Luceno L

(2) “Time of Death” – From A Certain Point of View by Cavan Scott C

(3) Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope C

(4) Star Wars: Darth Vader 2016 by Kieron Gillen C

(5) Star Wars: Darth Vader 2020 by Greg Pak C

(6) Star Wars: The Force Unleashed (2008) by Haden Blackman L

[dreamingsnowflake2013]

Tharn and Type discussing in detail financial issues like paying for bills and the division of household chores - some of the most mundane and unromantic but also the most important and complex aspects of every relationship, which are rarely touched upon in dramas for that very reason, makes the OTP acutely authentic and relatable. Because it’s precisely these realities of everyday life which are often the most poignant. Most dramas don’t touch upon them for the very same reasons: most viewers want their OTPs’ relatinships to be “healthy, fluffy, sweet and unproblematic” therefore arguments, the mention of money and who is paying for the happily ever after make them uncomfortable and offend their sensibilities. 

One of the reasons why arguments are so messy is not only because both parties believe they are right, but because each parties often is at least partially legit as with TharnType’s argument about the laundry which comes from a very real and relatable place. 

To understand what leads to it one needs to look at their respective professional lives. That’s why the writer spends so much time on exposition in episode 1. After graduating with his Bachelor degree, Tharn found a job and have been working for over 2 years now. He has a friendly working environment and he’s well-settled in it. On the other hand, Type went on to study a Master degree programme so he could stay with Tharn in Bangkok (his father had wanted him to come back home after finishing his Bachelor studies). Studying medical school is always hard, making it difficult to have a part-time job, so this is Type’s first working experience. The transition between school and work is always demanding: physically, mentally, socially, but also financially because fresh employees get a much lower pay. It’s already difficult enought, but Type has to deal with the added stress of a superior who makes his life a hell. Type is strong, smart, hard-working and very good at what he does and he knows it which makes it so much more frustrating for him that no matter how hard he works, his boss keeps bullying him and demeaning him. The worst thing for Type is that he can’t defend himself and punch his boss in the face like his former self woufl have done. He needs to last and keep the job a whole year to get the necessary working experience for his CV and find a better job with better pay and boss. Therefore Tharn and Type are in a very different place in their careers and it translates into their private lives, as well. As a result, Tharn bears most of the costs and has been doing it for several years, now. 

He knows Type’s been struggling and doing his best so they can be together, that’s why he supports Type in any way he can, including comforting him, driving him to work and paying for the bills, to help him overcome this challenging period. Tharn does it gladly because Type needs him. And that’s also one of the reason why their relationship feels like real marriage - they are married in every sense of the word, with the exception of a marriage certificate and a wedding ceremony.

Type sees all of it and loves Tharn even more for it, happy that he isn’t in this alone and has someone to depend on. He’s mature enough to rely on Tharn and realize that right now, there isn’t much he can do and help. He needs to survive another 6 months with his hellish boss. And he really does it all for Tharn, so they can spend their lives together as they’ve promised each other. That’s the reason why he’s been controlling his temper, putting up with the bullying and why he haven’t told his boss to go fuck himself - he wants to be a worthy partner for Tharn, his equal, help him pay the bills, not a useless person who beats other people and Tharn has to be ashamed of. Type accepts this reality but wants to express gratitude and appreciation to Tharn in his own unique way because with Type, actions always speak louder than words. 

So when Type says that everything he does, he does it for Tharn, he means it in every sense of the word -  controlling his temper, putting up with the exhausting job and terrible boss, studying a Masters degree programme,... - just like he did 7 years ago with Lhong, curbing his temper in front of Jeed, introducing Tharn to his family and friends,...

Type decides to iron Tharn’s clothes to repay him for always being there for him and to show him how much he cares. He actually feels happy doing it, giddy to do something for Tharn, so when Tharn tells him he shouldn’t have, it feels like Tharn just stabbed him into the heart, leaving Type literally struck dumb for a moment, eyes filled with sheer pain which immediately turns into irritation and anger as Tharn digs his grave even deeper. Tharn’s words sting even more because when Type told Tharn that he’s ironing the clothes, seemingly annoyed, he’s actually expecting Tharn to praise him, in his adorably cheesy way that Type secretly loves so much, that Type’s such a good wifey who always takes care of him but none of it comes.

It’s not only Type’s heart that is hurt, but also his pride. Type always felt confident in his studies and abilities, but he struggles now in his first job, while Tharn is successful, satisfied and well-adjusted in his. This disparity drives a certain wedge between them. 

Type misunderstands Tharn’s attempt to ease his workload as a rejection of himself and his love for Tharn. Type knows that right now, he can’t do much for Tharn so Tharn’s words break his heart. It makes him feel that he is not good enough, useless. Back in episodes 8 and 9, Type learned that if he only kept receiving from Tharn without giving anything back in return, it would make their relationship eventually break and he’s been trying ever since to become a good boyfriend to Tharn, someone who would make Tharn happy and not hurt him. 

And at this moment, due to his issues at work, he must feel like he doesn’t give Tharn as much as he should in certain aspects of their relationship. 

So when he thinks Tharn is rejecting even the little he can give, Type feels useless, disregarded and rejected. So he lashes out because that’s his defense mechanism and no amount of growing up is going to change that because that’s simply who Type is, lashing out his claws like a feral kitten when he feels threatened and hurt.

Tharn is usually so good at understanding and interpreting Type’s actions, but his mindreading ability can only do so much. More importantly, he is very drunk, which is a very important factor, and that is muddling his brain and, after 7 years, Type’s become much better at communicating his emotions with words so Tharn doesn’t need to read all of Type’s hidden intention because he’s grown used to the fact that Type tells him and shows his love more openly. He also feels secure in the relationship so he is much more unfiltered, not minding his words so much, no longer fearing that Type might get angry if he told him about his dislikes. Ironically, the argument occurs because they both mean well and are being considerate of each other, trying to show their love and care, but it backfires on them because they have different personalities and use different methods to show them so they clash. Therefore the argument comes from a very common and real place.

When Type throws the clothes at him and leaves, Tharn is compeletely baffled what has just happened. However, after he sobers up a little, it dawns at him that he must have hurt Type and hurries to apologize, desperate to make amends and clear the misunderstanding before it grows into something serious. 

He is nervously fidgeting with his fingers the whole time, so insecure and vulnerable, and with his sad puppy eyes and the way he nuzzles against Type’s body he looks so miserable and needy, Type has a hard time not to forgive him right away.

It’s such a joy to watch two adults having an honest, unfiltered conversation about the realities and demands of everyday life. There is nothing romantic about it but it makes TharnType’s love story feel palpably real and authentic. It means so much when Type actually voices and openly communicates his insecurites about their relationship being unequal because Tharn has been the main breadwinner.

It’s undeniable how much Tharn understands his boyfriend. When he gently begs him not to think too much, you can tell that Tharn can feel that Type's struggles at work are weighting down on him, making him to overthink things. And Tharn assures him that none of those things matter to him. It reminds me of the time when Tharn told Type that he doesn’t have to push himself into accepting that he’s dating a man because Tharn would wait for him no matter how much time it would take. And now it’s similar. It doesn’t matter how long it takes Type to settle in his work or how much he struggles because Tharn will always be there for him.

Finally, it makes so much sense that Tharnk seeks reassurance that he’s been forgiven with cuddles because intimacy and physical closeness has always been such an important and integral part of their relationship. In the very beginning, they used to be the only reciprocation he got from Type since even when Type denied his feelings for him, Type’s body never lied to him and always wanted Tharn.

[groundbreaking-science]

Section 3-2: Amplification

Warning! The following section contains exercises that may cause exhaustion, fainting, dissociation, abreaction and cardiac arrest. No exercise should be undertaken without explicit permission from a medical practitioner, and mental health support may be required for exercise 3.2.5. The reader proceeds at their own risk.

Prerequisites: Exercises in 1.4, 2.1-5, 3.1. Additionally material from section 1.9 is referenced.

The first time my father sensed the Earth and his place in it, a soft dawn was breaking. He stood shaking and gasping for air atop the world's tallest tower, with a view rivalled only by God above. A thick carpet of cloud rolled out to the horizon far below him, the very real verdant lands of Yahhoi still present and visible in glimpses between breaks, and he felt relief.

He'd spent the night screaming in deepest pain and writhing on the indifferent marble floor. He'd flickered between life and death, battling the effects of a poison he'd chosen against all advice to imbibe. It was said that the poison would draw out the drinker's latent power - should the drinker survive the process. My father, at the still tender age of sixteen, was the fifteenth warrior to try and the very first to breathe in the morning's cool air.

In that new light he felt rather than saw life stirring, and he understood the interconnectedness of his own life with the Universe around him. For the first time he sensed a power through the ki-field: the overwhelming strength and evil intent of King Piccolo. With renewed certainty in his abilities my father set out to face down that evil, and the rest is literal history.

After enduring the poison my father obtained the ability to consciously interact with the ki field. Though he wouldn't learn to amplify his abilities with any measured and focused intent for a while, needing guidance from more divine or experienced sources and more powerful, urgent motivators, every one necessitating the honing of a particular element in efficiency or technique. My father's spiritual awakening was slow-going then, though that is not an insult to his effort - even the Monk among our ragtag band took decades to fully master his unlocked potential, and I know there are towering heights I could yet reach.

It is that endless struggle that ultimately gave me the confidence to include this chapter. My current proficiency and my promise to impart certain skills make the work seem simple, but I know I have reached this level with a genetic advantage and a range of thankfully unique life experiences. Yes, nefarious forces could use this chapter to escalate their havoc by orders of magnitude, but that is a highly unlikely outcome, as I'm sorry to say the majority of readers will never achieve a level of amplification that could cause any material damage. Instead I believed it more pressing to think of those curious individuals compelled to perform the "super" techniques covered in the rest of this chapter and beyond, and these skills require ki amplification to perform safely, if at all. And besides, it would never have been fair to keep from you a skill that is considered an Earthling technique at heart.

So whilst I am no God, nor a questionable feline apothecarist making my home amongst the clouds, I am able to employ more traditional teaching methods to improve your ki output with conscious intent, rather than resorting to cryptic life-and-death experiences. And so, in a more measured way, we begin to tie together many elements you have already explored.

Before we delve back into the ki field, I wish to return to the ki we already possess - genki - and the two elements that contribute to the total energy output: the charge (energy per particle) and the flow rate (particles per second). Increasing one or both of these will increase your total genki power output.

The easiest way to achieve a step-change in power output - although impossible for many - would be to utilising a transformation. Simply growing larger means more cells need to be governed, which requires more parcels of genki to be released. You can think of the size of the centre (and therefore the centre's hypothetical surface area) increasing along with the body. A larger surface area with the same flux (flow per unit area) gives a greater power output.

Namekians are able to physically grow in size and therefore power, as demonstrated by Piccolo (the Junior) at the 23rd Martial Arts tournament. This ability is a learnt skill and under conscious control. Saiyans can also grow to gigantic proportions taking on a more ape-like form as Oozaru. Whilst this is an innate transformation and so more accessible (for Saiyans with tails, at least), it requires the reflected sunlight of a full moon to induce, and the Oozaru form does not naturally have a rational mind. Mastery and use of the form is therefore restrictive.

Earthlings on the other hand aren't known for their strength-inducing transformations; the mysterious Shapeshifting Schools utilise magic and transformations in this manner do not appear to grant a power increase. The innate transformation magic of Giants, Manwolves and similar teratoidal folk does grant an increase in power, and zoomorphic people of larger frames will have a greater genki output than the average anthropoidal person, but anthropoidal Earthlings are not granted either of these advantages (by their very definition).

However, Earthlings of all kinds do have access to one technique that will raise the ki particle flow rate: the Kaioken. Against received wisdom I will detail this technique later, if only to emphasize the dangers of trying to learn this skill away from the healing properties of the Heavenly Realm. The technique involves warping the centre's surface, therefore increasing the surface area but preserving the effective volume, allowing more ki particles through. Performed with too much gusto this technique can tear the body apart cell-by-cell, so for those of us bound to the mortal realm, mastery of this technique could take a lifetime.

There is a trade-off to these size increases, however. The pool of ki particles in your centre depletes far faster when deviating from its natural surface area and size. If all particles are used up, you will be left without a way to draw on ki, and will have to rest for an hour to fully replenish.

A further way to boost power output and to much greater effect is to increase the ki particle's average charge. Again some species have access to physical transformations that can achieve this; Frieza's race being one, where various naturally armoured and therefore lower-energy consumption forms reduce the draw on the centre's ki (both in flow rate and charge), and these forms prevent the individual from overwhelming lower ki energy folk around them.

Saiyans have access to another transformation called "Super Saiyan", one that does not increase the size of the body, but does impact every cell, creating a greater demand for charge per particle on the centre. From the combined research of scientists across the Universe, including my own, we know the transformation requires a level of circulating so-called "S-cells" in the body. In brief (as this transformation will be detailed later), high levels of emotion in the body trigger the S-cells to release a message in ki to all cells, asking them to call for more ki in readiness, in turn triggering the centre to release more ki which manifests as a transformation with recognised stages.

The final way to boost your genki output is to use a different version of genki entirely. The Gods and other non-mortals appear to use their own version of ki that is functionally the same in nearly every way, though God ki is more powerful - the reason for which remains unclear. Curiously, God ki is undetectable by mortals unless they receive specific training. Given how parallel they are, I believe then God and mortal ki to be of different chirality.

Chirality is a concept we find in nature. It is woven into the very structure of our bodies, even. When we look at ourselves in the mirror, our mirror image has the same make-up as us - the same number of blemishes on our face and hairs on our head - but there is no way to spin you around to make you look exactly like your mirror image. You and your mirror twin will always be left-right flipped as "optical isomers" of each other. Similarly, some molecules can have exactly the same chemical formula, but the structure can be left-right flipped. In our bodies, one molecule we ingest can fit snugly into a receptor and work as intended, but the optical isomer will be completely ignored (or worse, cause unpredictable damage in the body).

Mortal and God ki then, with their dyadic relationship, can be thought of as chiral mirror images. Unlike chemical optical isomers however, mortals can learn to accept and use the chiral God ki, but it is not natural and so must be unlocked in some manner and developed.

3.2.1 Raising Yuuki With Kiai

Earthlings are Universally known for their ability to change their ki output without reliable access to transformation or divinely developed techniques. Their wide emotional range and social nature can be repurposed or redirected to drive that increase in power. For an instantaneous boost of genki, we can rely on our yuuki. If you recall section 1.9, yuuki (courage) is not a true form of ki but a mechanism of bolstering the flow rate, and comes from reducing fear to free up "effort" and ki-particles and therefore energy otherwise poised to react in a more animalistic fashion to the stressors before us.

Consider the question - "when we run from a bear, do we run because we're afraid? Or are we afraid because we run?" This truth is a mix of both. Calming the mind can calm the body, yes, but changing our physiological state can also affect very real change in our emotions too, which can in turn free up mental capacity for other purposes. Likewise, amping up the body can amp up the mind and ki in tandem.

In section 2.3 we discussed kiai, the guttural yell. We slowed our breathing, using the inward and outward breaths to create a rhythm that our ki synced to. When our core tightened to yell our ki flowed steadily with the breath, expelled with the kiai. Kiai also raises yuuki, as the steady, conscious breathing slows the heart rate, reducing the physical sensations we attach to fear and therefore fear itself, a calming feedback loop. We can then think of that freed energy as released in a short, sharp burst of "courage" instead.

To practise this, perform a push intent with and without kiai. Notice the increase in strength as ki becomes more dense when paired with kiai. Then repeat the exercise, this time explicitly utilising yuuki. Calm the body to begin with, and with the freed capacity of mind, genki should be easier to focus and kiai more effective, the rush of emotion with each kiai honing the intent rather than distracting from it. Practice these four states until you can sense the difference in power, both in quality and quantity. Throughout your practice keep in mind whether your yuuki is well-maintained or not. There is no need to be perfectly physically calm every practice, only to be able to note how calm to better estimate the strength of that day's intents.

3.2.2. Yuuki - Advanced Calming

Slowing one's breathing has the ability to start a soothing chain reaction through the body. But there is a shortcut - to hack our bodily ki intents themselves, intercepting the messages intended for the heart and other systems.

To learn though we must be quiet to begin with. Sit quietly, slow your breathing, and feel the subtle pulse of ki intent that ripples with your heartbeat. Not the ki itself, as that will be flowing through the body at a near constant, rippling with the breath and heartbeat, but the change in intent that drives the heartbeat. This ripple will track back to the upper-right of the heart (close to the body's centre-line) to the pacemaker cells which control the heart's contractions, and will spread from the pacemaker cells to the rest of the heart. These are the intents we must intercept.

Follow these ripples and imagine them slowing - I think of a soothe intent to envelope and slow the beat intent, and before long you'll feel your heartbeat begin to slow too. The other physical symptoms of fear will leave you as the mechanisms triggering them unwind, freeing your mind and therefore affording you yuuki to use for ki manipulation. With familiarity you'll be able to track these ripples when under huge mental and physical stress.

It should go without saying that upsetting homeostatic equilibrium is extremely dangerous. This technique should only be performed for a few seconds before you let the body drive itself again. I only ever use this technique as a kick to my system, like a full-body shiver to reset. Slowing the heart too much will leave you breathless, drop your blood pressure and cause you to faint. Playing too harshly with pacemaker cells directly could cause them to fall out of sync, triggering cardiac arrest.

The next question both the curious and antagonistic among you will ask is whether this same soothe intent will work on others to incapacitate them. The answer is yes but, thankfully, there is an inbuilt difficulty; these homeostatic intents written with a ki signature are so tightly bound to that person's subconscious that overriding the messages takes considerable skill. I know of one assassin using this method to trigger cardiac arrest, and the genki "injection" must be delivered with great, well-practised precision within close-range. Miss and the assassin is wide open for a counter. I do not recommend developing this technique both for the safety of others and your own.

3.2.3 Field Ki

Genki manipulation has its limits. We have a finite amount of genki (created from chemical (food) energy) and a finite number of ki particles to assign it too. So there is a maximum amount of genki that we can release in one instant and whilst substantial, it is most unsustainable.

Instead the most reliable, near limitless way to amplify ki is to increase the charge per particle by converting genki to field ki (banoki). In section 1.9 we discussed the ki field; how the ki field is a lower energy state consisting of a soup of decayed and garbled ki energy separated from us by a barrier of ki particles. In 2.2 we visited the surface of the ki field to read the ripples created by the ki of others. Now we will reach through that undulating surface to harness the ki energy beyond.

Find a comfortable and well-centred position. Lower yourself to the ki-field as when learning to read the ki-signatures of those outside of auratic contact (exercise 2.2.2). Feel the waves of others, those vibrations, and settle 'above' them. Remember, your spirit is tethered to this reality by its very existence, so it would take a deliberate act to cut that tie and fall in. I'd hope by now you would be familiar with this exercise and such visualisations would be of little use, but for now attend to the ripples to aid the next step.

Now, you must expend a little effort and genki. Let your mind follow your decaying genki down to the field and visualise yourself penetrating the waves' surface with a hollow reed of ki, finding your way between the surface of empty ki particles at the still spots between the waves. A through or part intent works well here. Your genki and the field ki energy will meet through the imagined reed. The link will feel tenuous at first, as both your effort and genki used in the process will render the exercise counterproductive in net ki, but do not fret - with a little practice you will break even and then excel.

Once the connection is established, you will need to gather field ki. Imagine the reed straw you've made growing roots, spreading through the endless sea of field ki below to efficiently fill the space. Imagine those fine tendrils reaching, your ki signature spilling out as genki converts to give a semblance of structure in the field ki. Then, suck that captured ki back through the reed, palming it into your very real hands. Retrieving the ki can be tricky - overextend and your fine genki root system will break, essentially wasting that genki as it breaks down far too fast. Spread too little and, whilst safe, some genki will be wasted, unable to touch field ki and convert. Take your time - the amplification will come. Aim to be able to repeat this cycle of reaching and capture as a smooth, continuous flow. When this convoluted process becomes second nature, amplification can be achieved with a simple boost or swell intent.

3.2.4 Storing and Moving Ki

At first, this mix of kis will be heavy and unwieldy to move between foci as your ki signature is weakened through the mass. The usually chatty and fast to react genki will take a while to send intents through the rest of the more neutral ki, the genki acting as lit touchpaper. The best way to manage this mass of ki is to maintain the "rootlike" structure of genki through the mass, enabling fast communication between genki and the furthest section of field ki.

To practice, focus genki between your hands and swell the mass. As you sense the energy convert, try to send the ball of ki from left to right between your hands. Notice how, as you continue to amplify (and at first even lose total ki energy during the conversion) this movement increases in difficulty, demonstrating that as the fraction of genki energy in the focussed ball lessens, it takes more time to propagate your intent from the ordered, ki-signature laden genki to the unstructured mass of field ki.

Notice too, that if you were to apply for example a push intent, the strength of the ability would falter at first, the genki now having to learn how to send out this particular intent as well as apply it to itself. You will be frustratingly back to those early days of learning the basic intents. With time and practice though your skill and dexterity with intents will return - and faster this time around. When you've matched your previous skill level across a variety of intents when using only a tenth or less of the genki usually required without field ki, you will be ready to move on.

In the heat of the moment more powerful techniques will require more ki than can be created instantaneously, necessitating you to charge up the ki intent. There is a fine balance to be had between adjusting your genki flow as and when you need it for amplification, versus letting your mind work on autopilot at a fixed conversion rate to over-produce ki. The former of course saves you energy, but the micro-management could make you slower to counter. It is therefore prudent to know how to amplify and store that ki for later. If charging and amplifying a specific attack, of course bring ki to the focus in question, but to be ready at a moment's notice to push, to explode upwards to fly and to guard, you will need to store ki in an aura.

The fundamentals of this particular technique were covered in exercise 2.4.5, but to recap, use your centre as a focus, but this time expel ki. The ki should surround you in an approximate sphere, ready to be gathered into external foci like hands or feet, to report back to you nearby danger, or to create a near-instantaneous barrier. Remember when charging to use a hold intent too, otherwise the genki, untasked, will degrade. This technique is named "aura-shoring". When performed at high ki energy densities, ki will spontaneously interact with the world, creating an impressive and intimidating visible glow around the body.

3.2.5 Raising Shouki

We don't only trade genki for field ki during amplification. We expend effort to maintain spiritual calmness, shouki. If yuuki is the calmness between mind and body, shouki is our self-assuredness, the calmness between mind and ki. The stronger our connection between mind and ki, the easier amplification becomes. As discussed in 1.9, disrupting this link by agitating an opponent through very incisive taunts will knock their power-level down considerably, as they will be unable to efficiently convert genki to field ki. Now we wish to raise our own shouki.

To do so we must get in contact with our spiritual selves - not necessarily in a religious manner, but to know and speak our own truth. For my father, his brush with death was enough for his young self to begin to attend to that spiritualness, but you do not need to go to such extremes.

Mindfulness, the ability to just be in the present, comes easier to some than others. Mindfulness is not the ability to empty the mind, for that can be frustrating to achieve as worries for the day pop in and out. Instead we must notice those thoughts, the emotional and physical feelings, and maintain curiosity toward them before setting them aside for the moment. This benign distance affords us the ability to take stock. Spending time attending to how genki moves through our body and the environment around us can also assist in this mindfulness process. It is a focus on the here and now, and is something we can do alongside other exercises.

Mindfulness however is not dissociation, where we disown thoughts and experiences as not happening or not our own as a defense mechanism. And that leads me to a warning. For individuals dealing with dissociation as a result of, for example, psychological trauma, forcing the mind back in the body can cause an abreaction and worsen your state of mind. If you find you have constant bad reactions to mindfulness, or exercises and martial arts that encourage this open state of mind, then please seek professional support before continuing further. I know of one individual who broke through life-long trauma through sheer force of will, but it took him decades and could have ended poorly. However, dealing with the emotional block monumentally improved his raw power through yuuki and shouki, so your mental health is worth working on in whatever capacity you can. I also speak from experience. Fluctuating shouki was a difficulty I had in my childhood, and it took a lot of self-compassion and support from family and friends to let go of the guilt a child can swallow when they do not know any better. Simple grounding exercises - feeling the earth between your toes, naming sounds, colours and smells in the world around you - can suffice to bolster shouki somewhat in the meanwhile, and was the technique I used until I could be truly still and in the moment.

I told you once that I made the fortuitous decision to sit cross legged over seiza for twenty hours of a twenty-five hour ceremony. This ceremony, to unlock my fullest potential, required me to keep very still at a time I wanted to do anything but; my friends and family were in grave danger, some even passing away in the meanwhile, and the god performing the magic did not come across as particularly competent. As the hours ticked by I felt no different, only frustrated and wrestling with all my concerns with little else to distract me. It was only as my anger boiled over that I felt the ease at which ki enveloped my clench fists, and I understood the power of stillness. Whilst I know the silent magic of the god played a more than substantial part in my increase in power, I know holding out hope for Earth while confronting myself and my fears during those endless hours did play some part in repairing and raising my shouki, and I am grateful for that time to reflect. I hope you can find this time, too.

With every possible type of amplification in your knowledge and the most accessible at your disposal, it is now time to relearn all techniques with field ki in the mix. I know, I know it feels a step backward, but trust me, this step is a huge leap forward, and will give you access to all the work following on. When - or if - you can amplify the strength of your techniques by a factor of two with only a tenth of the genki available, you will be ready to proceed to the next section on guarding.

next previous first contents ask?

[book-dragon-etcetera]

Why Mantis and Loki should be a thing; fight me (please don’t I swear I’m nice).

What makes a good relationship subplot? Actually, scratch that – this is the MCU, we don’t go for mediocrity – what makes the best relationship subplots? It can vary, but my favourites, the ones that keep me digging and digging, coming back every time I think of a new angle (you’re in the fandom tags, you know what I’m talking about) always tie into the wider story. They feed character growth; allow new concepts to be explored; fit in with and in some cases represent the greater themes of a story.

In case you haven’t guessed, I’m going to be arguing that Loki and Mantis could be something along those lines. Something great. One of the best, most interesting relationships of modern screenwriting. I know, okay!! I know, it feels weird as anything – it’s taken me a while, too. But bear with me, and worst-case scenario, you’ll have a new take on a fascinating pair of characters.

Before I put the two together though, I feel like I need to do a little character study for Mantis. So far, she has had little to no clear development and without serious thought of your own, she seems entirely one-dimensional; two at best. In case you have not plugged hours and hours of thought into a character with barely ten minutes of screen-time, here are some of my thoughts, free of charge 😊. Incidentally, the interpretation I take to enhance my viewing experience (and add suitably crippling levels of angst :D ) ties her in perfectly with Loki’s story and character.

More Than Just a Bug: A Minor Study

What we know: Mantis has spent her whole life in servitude to Ego a massively powerful being, intent on taking over the universe, who sees all other life as inferior, insect-like (hence the name ‘Mantis’ – happenstance in the comics, derogatory in the films). Whether she has ever met anyone else is unclear, and until we actually see her talk about it, we’ll never know. Going by her comfort in talking to the Guardians, and also the fact that she anticipates the result of Ego’s meeting with Peter, I’m going to assume she has, but more specifically, that they were Ego’s other children.

Imagine this, if you will. Mantis, since her childhood, has been intermittently exposed to Ego’s offspring. They appear, are doted on for a few days, and then vanish as suddenly as they came. Not having been delayed by the Ravagers that collected them (as Peter was), they are all young children, with strong but changeable emotions. As such, they fit Ego’s narrative of universe full of mindless beasts, unthinking and impermanent. If Mantis were not an empath, able to feel their distress and confusion at the kidnapping, they would have no impact on her at all. As it is, they give her no epiphany, but rather a slow sense of unease that grows over time, as child after child is reduced to a pile of bones in a cave.

Her uncertainty must of course be hidden from Ego, who may be too narcissistic to imagine she could ever turn against him, but would certainly kill her if he saw her doubts, so she separates herself from the feeling. Her outer self remains uncomplicated and pliant, still attempting to please her adoptive father-figure, while her inner self languishes in steadily deepening turmoil. She dissociates to survive, until she almost believes it herself.

Now let’s try looking at her scene with Drax, where she touches his arm by the flower-filled lakes, through this new lens.

BEWARE. THIS SCENE WILL BECOME SIGNIFICANTLY MORE PAINFUL IF YOU ASSIMILATE THIS INTERPRETATION.

To recap: Mantis has spent her life in a state of slowly growing unease over the pain, suffering and subsequent deaths of Ego’s many children. Her only comfort has been his assurances that all other life is meaningless, and as such their suffering weightless. By Mantis’s own design, this inner struggle has been buried deep, totally inaccessible. Therefore, she goes into this scene entirely intending to allow Ego to kill the Guardians, and if Peter is successful, the universe.

Alright, here goes:

So, Mantis seems normal (normal??) for the first section. She reacts suitably when Drax calls her ugly, and then when he argues that it’s a good thing. When he mentions his lost daughter, she makes a joke (incidentally the sort of play-a-crooked-thing-straight joke that Loki might enjoy), but then Drax compares his daughter to Mantis, calling them both ‘innocent’, and she makes this face when he isn’t looking at her.

This is not a naïve look, and I don’t think it’s meant to be. The tiniest edge of that inner guilt, her natural empathy for the terrible fates of Ego’s children, is bleeding through against her will, brought to the surface by a father mourning the loss of his daughter. Wanting to understand, and partly in fear of what she might find there, she reaches for his arm.

When she feels his grief, she is physically affected, taking large gasps of air with glittering eyes. It’s easy to forget, but in some ways, Drax is the most emotionally developed of the Guardians. He had a wife, and daughter, and a home. He’s lived through what most of us would determine a normal life, and reached middle age. Quill, Gamora, Groot – they’re all younger than him, and therefore less emotionally developed. (I have no idea what age Rocket is, but at least by maturity he can certainly be added to the list.) This level of experience is where Drax’s moments of unexpected wisdom come from. He is a fully realised person with all the complexities and regrets that come with age, something Mantis has never felt in anyone except Ego. And he is mourning his daughter.

When she touches his arm, Mantis is feeling one of the worst losses, the deepest hurts that a person can ever experience, even dulled by years: the loss of a child. But for her, it’s even more than that. It’s personal. She realises in that moment that on the other end of every one of Ego’s children was someone like Drax, feeling what he felt. That they were still out there in the universe, mourning the sons and daughters that Mantis had met. It tilts her world on its axis, and we get a close-up to watch it:

This is her guilt, her worst fears validated. She can no longer use the ‘we’re just insects anyway’ justification to excuse the cavern of bones. Every tiny doubt she has ever had now has an explanation, and it means she has grown up complicit to atrocities she couldn’t even recognise. Upset, and guilty that he still believes her innocent, she turns immediately to Drax, knowing she can no longer stand by do nothing. They are interrupted by Gamora before Mantis can explain, so later that night, knowing she cannot bear being complicit yet again to murder, Mantis wakes Drax and betrays Ego, despite her fear and love for someone who has been (literally) her whole world.

Go watch the scene thinking about Mantis's guilt, I dare you. I did, and it hurt me.

By the end of GotG2, we have a Mantis still conditioned to serve the father she has now killed. His teachings have left her with crippling self-doubt, and a sense of personal inferiority that as of yet we have not seen her question, despite a truly incredible level of power (subduing first Ego – an actual planet – and then Thanos; I’ll go into her frightening Gamora later), and her own heroism. She is incapable of being righteously angry at Ego, because righteously implies right, something it does not occur to her that she might have. And she hides it all, because over the years she has built an unconscious self-defence mechanism which allows her to control people’s actions towards her by seeming harmless and sweet. The ultimate deflector of aggression.

What her motives and feelings might be now she has found her freedom, I also have some thoughts on, but that is a topic for another day (possibly a Loki including day, hmm?). I feel like it’s important to mention that, although this is a dark interpretation, that doesn’t mean I think Mantis is a dark character. There is inherent darkness in the horror of her past, but some of the best and brightest people in the world are people who have been to hell and back, and come back kinder for it. One day, when she has learnt some self-worth, and ditched the clothes that she wore as a slave to a monster, I think she could be one of the best, most impressive, and nuanced heroes we have ever seen.

[sherwoodland]

The Codependency myth.

A liberating and counterintuitive text from the book Attached, by Amir Levine, PhD and Rachel Heller, MA. We need connections, not detachment. Codependency does not exist, it's not an accepted diagnosis and never will be. Romantic love is an attachment bond. Pop-psychology gives you the wrong answers because it's not scientific.

“Emotional dependency is not immature or pathological; it is our greatest strength”.

Sue Johnson, PhD.

THE CODEPENDENCY MYTH

The codependency movement and other currently popular self-help approaches portray relationships in a way that is remarkably similar to the views held in the first half of the twentieth century about the child-parent bond (remember the “happy child” who is free of unnecessary attachments?). Today’s experts offer advice that goes something like this: Your happiness is something that should come from within and should not be dependent on your lover or mate. Your well-being is not their responsibility, and theirs is not yours. Each person needs to look after himself or herself. In addition, you should learn not to allow your inner peace to be disturbed by the person you are closest to. If your partner acts in a way that undermines your sense of security, you should be able to distance yourself from the situation emotionally, “keep the focus on yourself,” and stay on an even keel. If you can’t do that, there might be something wrong with you. You might be too enmeshed with the other person, or “codependent,” and you must learn to set better “boundaries.”

The basic premise underlying this point of view is that the ideal relationship is one between two self-sufficient people who unite in a mature, respectful way while maintaining clear boundaries. If you develop a strong dependency on your partner, you are deficient in some way and are advised to work on yourself to become more “differentiated” and develop a “greater sense of self.” The worst possible scenario is that you will end up needing your partner, which is equated with “addiction” to him or her, and addiction, we all know, is a dangerous prospect.

While the teachings of the codependency movement remain immensely helpful in dealing with family members who suffer from substance abuse (as was the initial intention), they can be misleading and even damaging when applied indiscriminately to all relationships. Karen, whom we met earlier in the televised race, has been influenced by these schools of thought. But biology tells a very different story.

THE BIOLOGICAL TRUTH

Numerous studies show that once we become attached to someone, the two of us form one physiological unit. Our partner regulates our blood pressure, our heart rate, our breathing, and the levels of hormones in our blood. We are no longer separate entities. The emphasis on differentiation that is held by most of today’s popular psychology approaches to adult relationships does not hold water from a biological perspective. Dependency is a fact; it is not a choice or a preference.

A study conducted by James Coan is particularly illuminating to that effect: Dr. James Coan is the director of the Affective Neuroscience Laboratory at the University of Virginia. He investigates the mechanisms through which close social relationships and broader social networks regulate our emotional responses. In this particular study, which he conducted in collaboration with Richard Davidson and Hillary Schaefer, he used functional MRI technology to scan the brains of married women. While these women were being scanned, Dr. Coan and his colleagues simulated a stressful situation by telling them that they were about to receive a very mild electric shock.

Normally, under stressful conditions the hypothalamus becomes activated. And indeed this is what happened in the experiment to the women when they were alone awaiting the shock—their hypothalamus lit up. Next, they tested the women who were holding a stranger’s hand while they waited. This time the scans showed somewhat reduced activity in the hypothalamus. And when the hand that the women held was their husband’s? The dip was much more dramatic—their stress was barely detectable. Furthermore, the women who benefited most from spousal hand-holding were those who reported the highest marital satisfaction—but we’ll get back to this point later.

The study demonstrates that when two people form an intimate relationship, they regulate each other’s psychological and emotional well-being. Their physical proximity and availability influence the stress response. How can we be expected to maintain a high level of differentiation between ourselves and our partners if our basic biology is influenced by them to such an extent?

It seems that Karen from our example instinctively understood the healing effect of holding her partner’s hand under stressful conditions. Unfortunately, she later gave in to common misconceptions and viewed her instinct as a weakness, something to be ashamed of.

THE “DEPENDENCY PARADOX”

Well before brain imaging technology was developed, John Bowlby understood that our need for someone to share our lives with is part of our genetic makeup and has nothing to do with how much we love ourselves or how fulfilled we feel on our own. He discovered that once we choose someone special, powerful and often uncontrollable forces come into play. New patterns of behavior kick in regardless of how independent we are and despite our conscious wills. Once we choose a partner, there is no question about whether dependency exists or not. It always does. An elegant coexistence that does not include uncomfortable feelings of vulnerability and fear of loss sounds good but is not our biology. What proved through evolution to have a strong survival advantage is a human couple becoming one physiological unit, which means that if she’s reacting, then I’m reacting, or if he’s upset, that also makes me unsettled. He or she is part of me, and I will do anything to save him or her; having such a vested interest in the well-being of another person translates into a very important survival advantage for both parties.

Despite variations in the way people with different attachment styles learn to deal with these powerful forces—the secure and anxious types embrace them and the avoidants tend to suppress them—all three attachment styles are programmed to connect with a special someone. In fact, chapter 6 describes a series of experiments that demonstrate that avoidants have attachment needs but actively suppress them.

Does this mean that in order to be happy in a relationship we need to be joined with our partner at the hip or give up other aspects of our life such as our careers or friends? Paradoxically, the opposite is true! It turns out that the ability to step into the world on our own often stems from the knowledge that there is someone beside us whom we can count on—and this is the “dependency paradox.” The logic of this paradox is hard to follow at first. How can we act more independent by being thoroughly dependent on someone else? If we had to describe the basic premise of adult attachment in a single sentence, it would be: If you want to take the road to independence and happiness, first find the right person to depend on and travel down it with them. Once you understand this, you’ve grasped the essence of attachment theory. To illustrate this principle, let’s take another look at childhood, where attachment starts. Nothing better demonstrates the idea we’re conveying than what is known in the field as the strange situation test.

THE STRANGE SITUATION TEST

Sarah and her twelve-month-old daughter, Kimmy, enter a room full of toys. A friendly young research assistant is waiting in the room and exchanges a few words with them. Kimmy starts to explore this newfound toy heaven—she crawls around, picks up toys, throws them to the ground, and checks whether they rattle, roll, or light up, while glancing at her mom from time to time.

Then Kimmy’s mother is instructed to leave the room; she gets up and quietly walks out. The minute Kimmy realizes what has happened she becomes distraught. She crawls over to the door as quickly as she can, sobbing. She calls out to her mother and bangs on the door. The research assistant tries to interest Kimmy in a box full of colorful building blocks, but this only makes Kimmy more agitated and she throws one of the blocks in the research assistant’s face.

When her mother returns to the room after a short while, Kimmy rushes toward her on all fours and raises her arms to be held. The two embrace and Sarah calmly reassures her daughter. Kimmy hugs her mom tight and stops sobbing. Once she is at ease again, Kimmy’s interest in the toys reawakens and she resumes her play.

The experiment Sarah and Kimmy participated in is probably the most important study in the field of attachment theory—referred to as the strange situation test (the version described here is an abbreviated version of the test). Mary Ainsworth was fascinated by the way in which children’s exploratory drive—their ability to play and learn—could be aroused or stifled by their mother’s presence or departure.

She found that having an attachment figure in the room was enough to allow a child to go out into a previously unknown environment and explore with confidence. This presence is known as a secure base. It is the knowledge that you are backed by someone who is supportive and whom you can rely on with 100 percent certainty and turn to in times of need. A secure base is a prerequisite for a child’s ability to explore, develop, and learn.

[margoshansons]

Desperate Measures 15/?

MASTERLIST: (don’t ask about part ten)

Summary: Raven undergoes a terrible operation to save herself, and Finn recruits delinquents for a mission. Y/N is one of them.

warnings: surgical procedures, swearing, canon-typical stuff

notes: I’m finally back with a chapter and hopefully I’ll be able to update regularly again. Tbh, I feel like no one cares about this story anymore, so seeing it receive some new love has made my heart very very happy. Based on 2x02 “inclement weather”

***

Bellamy paced his cell, the wire digging into his wrists as he waited for another interrogation. Byrne, Sgt. Miller. It was only a matter of time before Kane decided to show up. It was only a matter of time before he had to face the man who had helped float his mother.

Today was that day apparently.

The door slid open. He had seemed taller on the Ark, more intimidating.

Down here he was just another adult who was playing with things they didn’t understand. Another adult who refused to believe them.

“How long are you gonna keep me locked up in here?” Bellamy sighed, his shoulders slumping.

Kane crossed his arms, “As long as it takes until I’m sure you’re not a threat to others.”

He resisted the urge to scoff. The only threat they faced was the grounders.

“Those are my people out there” Bellamy growled, his irritation starting to get the better of him, “I should be out there looking for them, not--”

“You shouldn’t be doing anything” Kane cut him off, tone stern, “Your time of being a leader is over.”

Bellamy clenched his jaw. His time of being a leader will never be over. As long as his people survived, he would do whatever it took to keep them that way.

The sound of metal dragging on metal caught him off guard, Kane sitting down on a lone crate, gesturing to another one he had brought over. Bellamy knew the drill.

Here came the interrogation.

“I need you to tell me everything you know about the grounders” Kane paused, inhaling, “and my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” Bellamy asked, arching an eyebrow.

Kane creased his, “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

Bellamy decided to play his game. “I know Y/N Franco survived a bullet wound to the leg and was one of the hundred who managed to make it back home. The rest of my friends are out there, probably dying and you’re sitting here acting like the real threat isn’t out there torturing our people!”

“That’s enough!” Kane barked, teeth grit in brewing anger, “If you aren’t going to help me, then I’m afraid I can’t let you go.”

As the new Chancellor stood up to walk away, Bellamy chuckled mirthlessly, remembering what Maria had said so many times before.

“She was right” Bellamy called out, “You’re not her father.”

He watched as the Chancellor buried his emotions in a fist, slowly turning around with an ease he had only seen Y/N wear before.

The two men eyed each other, never losing eye contact as Kane sat back down, hunching over to lean in closer to Bellamy. The interrogation continued.

***

Her leg throbbed, but she could walk. The bullet had been safely removed, and she was thankful Murphy was a lousy shot. 

She was thankful Murphy had only hit the muscle.

Raven wasn’t as lucky.

Y/N stood beside Finn, watching anxiously as Abby discussed what needed to be done to save Raven.

“The bullet is still shifting” The doctor informed the mechanic, “I was hoping it would stabilize by now.”

“So take it out” She and Raven spoke at the same time.

Abby and Jackson shared a nervous look, unable to hide anything from anyone down here. No one was.

“Raven” Abby’s tone turned gentle. “The bullet is pressing against your spine, if we leave it in you’ll live but...you’ll never walk again.”

Y/N swallowed at the news. On the ark, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Zero G solved that. Down here? With grounders abundant and new threats popping up everywhere? Where they needed their legs to run? Raven needed to walk. Raven needed that surgery.

“Take it out” Raven pleaded, showing no sign of backing down from her decision. “In zero g I didn’t need my legs. Down here I do.”

Abby sighed before nodding slightly to Jackson. She felt Raven’s calloused hand snake itself into her own, eyes pleading with her.

“Will you stay?” The weakened girl asked, “please?” Y/N nodded, leaning down, her leg still hurting but she ignored it. Raven was going through much worse. She could deal with a little leg pain if it helped Raven.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She replied, brushing a hand over her friend’s hair. A weight knelt down beside her and she caught Finn staring intently at his ex, grasping her and Y/N’s hand in his own. “Neither am I” He spoke softly, his gaze never leaving Raven’s.

“We’re almost ready” Abby called, turning Raven on her stomach before lifting up the mechanic’s grey tank top, marking the infected area with a black marker. Y/N felt her breathing shift. Raven’s grip grew tighter around her and Finn’s hands, a silent plea.

The scalpel made its way to the marked area, ready to cut into her--

“Stop!” Raven cried, a tear streaking down her ashen face, fear flickering through her eyes. “I’m so scared” Her voice broke and Y/N broke along with it.

This was her best friend.

More than that. They were sisters. They grew up together. They were meant to change the world together. And now the strongest person she knew was breaking down before her eyes.

“Hey” Y/N whispered, drawing Raven’s attention away from the surgery, “Look at me and Finn.”

Understanding swirled in her dark brown eyes.

She squeezed their hands together.

She was ready.

Finn switched his gaze to Abby.

Y/N’s never left Raven’s.

“She’s ready” Finn announced.

The screams were deafening.

*** Bellamy’s blood became ice as screams rang through the small compound. What if it was Y/N? She had been scheduled for surgery. What if the screams were hers? What if she was suffering and there was nothing he could do about it?

“It’s not Sparky, if that’s what you’re worried about” Murphy deadpanned from across the room. Irritation flashed hotly through Bellamy’s body, the traitor’s voice not helping his anxious state. “She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.”

He clenched his jaw at the statement, because against his better judgement, Bellamy knew Murphy was right. Y/N would refuse to scream during surgery, especially if it was just a bullet to the leg.

Before Bellamy could respond to the true statement, the doors slid open once again, revealing Kane and Byrne ready for another interrogation. Except this time the subject matter was one person.

The same person he had been thinking about minutes before.

“What the hell happened to my daughter?” Kane’s eyes were ablaze, searching back and forth between the two men, desperate for answers. Kane turned toward Bellamy, stalking forward, “You told me grounders don’t have guns.”

“They don’t” Bellamy spoke calmly, slightly unnerved with how desperate the Chancellor seemed. No one had ever seen him this vulnerable. Or this angry. “You wanna know what happened to your daughter?”

Kane clenched his jaw, the slightest nod answering the question.

“Ask him.” Bellamy gestured toward the opposite wall.

Toward John Murphy.

***

Y/N exhaled, wanting to cry tears of relief.

She had made it. Against all odds, Raven Reyes had survived.

“She’s a fighter” Abby pointed out later, wiping the scalpel and tweezers clean of the crimson liquid. “You all are.”

Y/N smiled shyly at the compliment, her thoughts drifting toward Bellamy. “Some of us more than others.” She murmured.

Abby froze, turning around to face the engineer. “You want to go see him.”

It wasn’t a question.

Y/N nodded.

“Please Abby” She pleaded, “If you knew what Murphy’s done, what he did to me, Raven and Bellamy, you wouldn’t have him locked up.”

The doctor sent a puzzled look before glancing between the two girls. Her mind began to weave the pieces together, an incredulous look on her face as Abby threw another glance at Y/N’s freshly stitched up leg.

“This way,” was all Abby said, pulling the engineer forward through the curtains of the med tent until she landed in front of a panel that looked out of place. “You can exit through there, your dad’s waiting out front, but this should be able to get you past him and Byrne.”

She threw her arms around the woman who had saved her and Raven’s life, grateful that she had someone in this camp on her side.

Her feet stepped out onto the grassy fields, sunlight streaming across her face, blinding her vision and heating up her face as she soaked up the yellow rays. Her boots crunched against the patches of dry grass underneath her as she managed to find the entrance to the newly dubbed Camp Jaha.

She avoided the awestruck gazes of her fellow Ark citizens, every one of them knowing exactly who she was. The poor orphan from Mecha station taken in by Marcus Kane. Before she was thrown in solitary with the rest of the delinquents to be sacrificed for their sick experiment.

Before she was sent down to die.

Alpha station was exactly the way she remembered it. Down to the last piece of scrap metal that had fallen from the sky. The metal walls confined her. Everything was too small.

She couldn’t believe she ever thought this was the biggest thing in the world.

The earth was a never ending maze, the same way she had viewed Alpha at one point, and now Alpha was nothing to her. A confining box meant to keep everyone in line.

She peeked down the corridor leading to the stockade, watching the guards, wondering if there was some way to cut the power so she could sneak in unseen.

An arm on her shoulder caused her to flinch.

She whipped around, senses on fire as she drew her fists, stopping when she met the shocked face of David Miller.

“Sgt. Miller?” She asked, disbelief crossing her features. The Chief of the guard relaxed, all the tension gone from his shoulders as he recognized the face in front of him.

��Y/N,” The chief breathed, “I’m so glad I found you. Did Nate follow you back at all?”

She froze at the question.

For the first time since being discovered at the dropship, she allowed her thoughts to turn toward those she failed. Miller, Monty, Jasper, Clarke.

All gone. 

Taken.

By grounders or something else. But it didn’t change the fact. She hadn’t saved them. She had failed them all.

“I’m sorry” She swallowed, ignoring the guilt pressing against her chest, “I don’t know where he is.”

David’s face fell.

“I broke my promise” Y/N admitted, voice thick with emotion, “I promised you I’d take care of him, and I--I failed. I’m so sorry.”

He left with a broken smile and a pat on the back. His words ringing in her head long after he was gone.

“You did what you could.”

No she didn’t. She should’ve gone after them. She should’ve stopped hiding. She should’ve tried to fight off those who would try and harm her friends. And now she was paying the price. A hand grasped her bicep and pulled her backward, pressing her against the wall, a hand covering her mouth.

Her eyes narrowed when she saw who it was.

“Finn?” She spoke through his hand, the muffled sound muted by the flesh against her lips. The long haired delinquent shot several paranoid looks behind his shoulder before whispering his plan to Y/N.

“Your dad lied about the search team. Finding our people, going after the grounders, all of it. They’re not going after our people Y/N,” Finn informed her, his eyes bugging out of his head, “So we’re taking matters into our own hands. Monroe and Sterling are on watch, you and I are going to sneak in and free Bellamy. What do you say?”

He gently lifted his hand free from her mouth to let her give her answer.

It was a reckless plan. And there’s no telling whether the grounders even had their friends in the first place unless they managed to build smoke bombs. But it was better than anything she had come up with.

It was better than staying here and failing again.

“I’m in.”

Sneaking in was marginally easier than she expected. Especially with Marcus putting several guards in front of the door because he didn’t like how close Bellamy had gotten with her. Thank whatever higher power above for secret passages.

They had kept her safe from Marcus’ disappointment on the Ark and now they’re going to help her save her friends.

“Get up” Finn instructed, Y/N using the pliers to cut the zip ties around Bellamy’s wrists, “We’re going to save our friends.”

Bellamy’s skeptical look disappeared as he rubbed his raw wrists. Anger stirred in her chest at the sight of the red lines, but she shoved it aside. She would deal with her father later. Right now her friends were in trouble.

“About time,” Bellamy smirked, turning toward Y/N, “Your idea?” She shook her head, “Finn’s, and we gotta hurry. Now.”

Bellamy grasped the pliers from her hands and moved toward the opposite wall, her anger spilling out of her as Finn finished her thoughts for her, “What the hell are you doing?”

He had cut Murphy free.

“He’s the only one who’s been to their camp.” Bellamy explained as if Murphy’s presence being needed was the most obvious solution in the world.

Y/N rolled her eyes, moving forward to meet Murphy, “You shoot me again, and I promise I will kill you.”

His response was cut off by the appearance of Monroe, “Hey, Sterling just signalled, someone’s coming.”

The four of them ducked out, closing the panel behind them as Alpha station dropped them back by the medical tent.

“You’re late” Abby scolded, David by her side as their flashlights lit up the area surrounding the gate.

“Bellamy decided to bring company” Finn retorted.

Bellamy sighed, pulling Murphy’s bonds tighter, “He’s the only one that’s been to their camp.”

The two adults nodded before handing off the firearms to the delinquents, David entrusting his own pistol to Y/N, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Find my son, his name is Nathan Miller.”

She didn’t need to know that.

She knew exactly who to look for.

She knew exactly who she had failed.

***

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[lemonpie321]

Content warnings: restraining, poisoning, stabbing.

Whumptober day 2: “Pick Who Dies”

Nagumo is the first to wake up. His head hurts, and he feels as if his eyelids are made of lead. He wants nothing but to keep sleeping, but the hard and cold surface under his body startles him, and he opens his eyes groggily. A white room welcomes him, almost like a hospital with no furniture at all. Nothing more than him and someone else lying still on the floor. As soon as Nagumo sees the familiar boy he rushes to his side, shaking him with intensity, shouting. "Aphrodi, are you okay!? Come on, get up, we're in a weird place!"

So, Terumi is the second to wake up. Even dizzier than Nagumo because of the brute movement, he feels almost like throwing up, his head like it's about to explode. Still, he weakly grabs Nagumo's wrist, and sits up in a slow-motion taking in his surroundings. "I'm alright. Where are we?" Suzuno is the last to wake up. He opens his eyes with a whine, and then, two things are quick to put him on alert: the first one is the mechanical sound similar of that of a big sliding door opening, and the second one is the realization that his limbs and neck are tied up on a mattress and he's unable to move. Nagumo’s gasps and a strangled sound escapes from Terumi’s throat, the now withdrew door making Suzuno visible, but leaving a glass wall in between. Nagumo runs, always the impulsive type, and starts punching it, not even leaving a scratch. So reinforced glass it is, Suzuno thinks, unable to move his head but guessing by the sounds. Then, a voice echoes in the room. “I guess you are wondering the reason for your current situation. Well, you could say it’s for revenge but the truth is, I just want to see you suffer.” Terumi goes pale. Nagumo grimaces. “And who the fuck are you!? If you think we’re going to do whatever shit you want us to, then-” “Stop.” Nagumo turns to Terumi with a questioning look and is a bit struck by his face, wide eyes and pursed lips. A sickening laugh didn’t make itself wait. “I see you already recognized me, my dear Aphrodi. You were so good to me before, what happened to you?” He mocks. Nagumo could be a bit slow sometimes, but he immediately realizes who that person is. Suzuno can barely hear them, much less make out their words, and even being as stoic as he is he starts to become anxious, bile rising to his throat. Nagumo snarls and is about to shout something, but gets interrupted again. “I think presentations are done for now. It’s time to start the fun part.” After some fumbling, a high pitched sound resonates in Suzuno’s room. “There. Your little friend should be able to hear us now. I’ll give you an explanation of what’s going to happen.” Suzuno lets out a pained groan, writhing. Terumi immediately senses that something is very wrong. “These are the rules: I’ve poisoned the boy with the white hair. I also have the antidote, so no need to worry, I'll part ways with it if you do a simple thing.” Then, a small scuttle in the ceiling opens with a whir, letting a carving knife fall cluttering on the marble floor. It leaves both rooms in a deafening silence. Understanding slowly creeps into all of their faces, showing itself in the form of horror, fear, and denial. For a couple of seconds, no one dares to say even a word or to move the slightest bit. “Aphrodi and Nagumo, one of you has to stab the other. Do it well, all the way in. I’ve been kind enough to choose only a twenty-centimeter long knife, so I won’t tolerate any kind of half-done job. Stabbing yourselves won’t satisfy me either. If you break the rules, you have to do it again. You have approximately twenty minutes before the damage is irreversible, and then five until Suzuno dies. So let us start the game.” Nagumo’s face distorts in a mixture of fear, worry, and pure rage. Suzuno starts wriggling and thrashing even more against the leather restraints, he can’t leave the two people he loves the most in such a hideous situation. He has to endure the pain, to fight Kageyama, to… Terumi’s expression was unreadable, his gaze is fixated at the knife. “What the fuck are you saying!? If you don’t want me to rip your fucking head off come here right now and give me that damn antidote!!” No matter how much he screams, kicks and punches, it looks like nothing but a useless tantrum. He screams Suzuno’s name, Suzuno whispers Nagumo’s, eyes closed, trying to focus. Terumi finally stands, none of the others noticing him. He knows very well what he has to do, and he won’t hesitate. He walks to the knife and silently lifts it, admiring it’s polished, shiny surface reflecting the white lights of the room. His ears are ringing, he can’t notice Suzuno’s whimpers, nor Nagumo’s shouting when it stops. When Terumi looks at him, his lips are slightly parted in surprise, a shocked expression coating his face. His eyes are quickly dancing between Terumi and the knife on his left hand. Seeing this, he starts approaching him with that smooth, graceful pace he always holds. Nagumo takes a few steps back, not knowing what to do. Terumi would never hurt him, right? He will not betray him, right? Not even when Suzuno’s life is on the line, he would be sensible enough to find a better solution than Nagumo’s, like he always did… right? “A-Aphrodi? What are you doing?” He sputters in an uncharacteristically faint voice. This does not make Terumi stop, and they continue like this until Nagumo’s back hits the wall. He’s holding his breath when Terumi invades his personal space, smiling softly to him, not saying a word. And then, he takes Nagumo’s hand and places the knife gently on his palm, intentions implicit. “...huh?” Nagumo just can’t process what is happening. No, that’s not right, he can process it, but he can’t accept it. He can’t accept what Terumi wants him to do. “Come on, Nagumo. You know it won’t work if I do it to myself.” He says warmly, fastening Nagumo’s grip on the handle. Now that he’s closer, Nagumo can see the sorrow on his eyes. “N-no. No, no, no, I-I can’t do that to you, I…” He tries to let go of the knife like it’s burning him, but Terumi doesn’t let him. “Please, you have to do it for Suzuno. If you do this, there’s a chance I might survive, but if we leave him like that, there will be nothing we can do” There’s something in the fact that the boy he loves is begging for him to stab him that threw Nagumo off the edge. He sobbed, a few tears running down his cheeks and falling on top of Terumi’s hands. He absentmindedly shakes his head in denial, imploring with just a look for him to not force him to do that. Anything but that. Terumi seems on the verge of crying too, but manages to hold back, wrapping Nagumo in an embrace as comfortably as possible. “Shush, it’s okay… It will be just a second, I promise. And then we can all go outside, together. Remember who we are doing this for.” Knowing he has no option, Nagumo tightens his hold on the knife, not even daring to look into Terumi’s eyes. “That’s it. Don’t think about it, just do it quickly, like you were pulling off a band-aid.” With a sob, Nagumo finally plunges the knife into Terumi’s gut with a quick and merciful thrust. He tries to suppress the urge to throw up when he feels the knife digging all the way in cutting through his organs, when he hears the slick sound of the blood along with the blonde’s cry, and something warm starts seeping through Terumi’s fingers and trickling onto his hands. The sound Nagumo lets out is like one of a terrified kid, a wail that expresses nothing but despair, his hands still holding the object so tightly his fingers go numb. Even then, Terumi manages to put on a broken smile, and muster with weakened voice, grazing Nagumo’s cheek with his fingers: “It’s okay, i-it’s not your fault. It’s alright now.” That does not make Nagumo feel better. It's not fair, that even when Terumi was going through so much pain and fear, he has to be the one doing the comforting. Why is he always so selfless? Why does he love to self-sacrifice for them so much? His thoughts are interrupted by a new clatter on the floor, this time of a plastic box. He knows that no matter how much he wants to take Terumi to a hospital as soon as possible, he has another work to do. He lowers him slightly so he lies in the wall, and quickly opens the box, and taking the small syringe, then looks at the glass panel. It opens, just like the other door. He rushes to Suzuno’s side, looking at his sickly-looking face, and injecting without wasting a second, and unties him. He finds out that he’s also incapable of looking Suzuno in the eyes. “W-we have to take Terumi to a hospital, now. You di-didn’t take out the knife, good. That way it’s less possible that he bleeds o-out.” Nagumo doesn't say that the actual reason he did not take it out was that he was too distracted by his thoughts. He didn't think he would ever be able to forgive himself, even if it was Terumi who pressured him to do it. Suzuno knows it and procures to stay quiet, struggling too much to deal with his own emotions to manage to comfort Nagumo. Nagumo carries Terumi in the most careful way he had ever done anything, and they leave the building without another word.

[aspoonofsugar]

What do you think of Q?

Hello anon!

I think Q is a character with the potential of being very rich symbolically and I hope they come back soon.

It is clear from their appearance that they are a character who represents duality:

Their hair are half-white and half-black and after seeing them for the first time Dazai is unable to define their gender. This duality emerges also by their profile where it is stated that Yumeno both loves and hates themselves.

Especially this last contradiction says something about Yumeno’s interiority and this something is made clear in the story itself:

Q might act sadistically, but deep down it is obvious that they are just reacting to a world which has been tormenting and dehumanizing them because of their diversity. This dehumanization appears also in the way other characters refer to them. As a matter of fact the other mafia members prefer to use the letter Q to call them, despite them having a proper name. What is more, the way basically every adult has reacted to Q so far clearly shows that Q really represents for the other characters what they repress.

This is made clear by their ability as well:

Their power is called by Dazai mind-control, but what it does is actually to let every person face the things they refuse to accept about themselves. This is perfectly shown when Atsushi is cursed.

The whole scene is pretty well made and explicative, so I hope you don’t mind if I take the chance to comment it a little.

First of all, Q opens their attack by chanting a song which is used in a game:

According to the translator’s notes, the game has a group of people surrounding a person who has their eyes closed. They are the oni and while they can’t see the others start moving in a circle chanting the song. When the song is over, the oni has to guess who is the person behind them.

The description of the game is meaningful for the battle on multiple levels. On one hand the song talking about the person behind Atsushi seems to underline the fact that Haruno is brainwashed, so it is as if Yumeno is telling Atsushi to watch his back. On the other hand Atsushi is immediately put in the position of the Oni who is blind. In other words, it is clear that the song foreshadows that Atsushi is really the one who can’t see properly and can’t recognize neither himself nor his surroundings:

At the same time, Oni means demon in Japanese (if I am not wrong) and this could be a reference to Atsushi’s violent side. We can also say that the whole scene shows Atsushi’s way to cope with his own violence. As a matter of fact Atsushi justifies it only if necessary to protect others. This is why Yumeno’s illusion tricking him into attacking his two colleagues is especially fitting to show the limits of such a mindset.

On one hand Atsushi frames himself as heroic because he is trying to protect others. On the other hand we are clearly shown how this is hypocritical to an extent:

Even if Haruno and Naomi were brainwashed Atsushi would have still used violence and even his ability against two people with no combat experience and far weaker than him. At the same time, the fact that he hurt them doesn’t change the fact that he was animated by the best intentions and that it was not his fault that he was brainwashed. However, he is fast to justify his violence when he thinks that the others are the ones manipulated, but he immediately blames himself when he turns out to have been the target. This highlights Atsushi’s complicated relationship with strength and weakness and his need to feel in the right.

Atsushi falls in the illusion’s trap because of his bias in perceiving both himself and others and this is what he must overcome with time.

So this example makes clear that Q is so hated because they represent what people want to forget about. This is probably true for Dazai as well, despite the fact that Q’s ability doesn’t work on him:

We don’t have many details, but it is easy to infer that Dazai used to be close to Q probably because he was the only person who could go near them without fearing Dogra Magra. However, something happened and Q ended up misusing their power, so Dazai “sealed them away”. It is not a secret that a part of Dazai’s arc will be about facing his past in the mafia and Q represents a part of this past Dazai would very much like to leave behind.

Generally speaking, Yumeno is the child nobody wants to save because it is too troublesome. Dazai left them behind, the mafia imprisoned them and weaponized them and nobody seems to care. Because of this, it is fitting that it is Yumeno’s ability the one which risks to destroy the city:

What Steinbeck says here perfectly shows the problem. He is in front of a child who is crying and screaming and who is asking why they have to suffer and all Steinbeck has to offer as a reply is that it is because it has been decided this way. This is a very fatalistic outlook which fits with this character who says to hate capitalism, but accepts to work for a capitalist and takes on the renmants of said capitalist’s organization. Steinbeck might dislike some parts of society, but rather than trying to change them he has accepted them as unavoidable and has tried to modify his social standing to be on the side of those who use others rather than on the one of those who get used.

In short, it is because of the way society works that Q has been suffering and so it makes perfect sense that society risks to be destroyed by them. All the people who unknowingly get cursed by them are people who have hurt them without realizing it. This is perfect to metaphorically show that it is the citizens not caring which lets mechanisms damaging the weak survive. Q almost destroys the city because the city has almost destroyed them with its indifference.

This is why it is interesting and potentially meaningful the fact that Yumeno is finally saved by an alliance born between two enemy organizations and by two people who seem to have been connected with them in some way:

However, even if they are saved, they are not really safe because the two people who should take care of them are still stuck in their own limitations:

Chuuya is still too blinded by his emotions to recognize in Q a person who needs help and Dazai still leaves them behind. In other words, these two adults are still too wrapped up in their respective extreme perspectives and do not really manage to integrate them. On one hand Chuuya is animated by deep emotions, but he is limited by the fact that he applies them only to his little group of loved ones. On the other hand Dazai has a better rational understanding of the fact that people of different groups are still people, but he has trouble expressing healthy feelings towards them and so he goes back to logical solutions which make sense, but are also pretty cold.

In short, Q is a person who is not given the help they need and this is why they are who they are. As a matter of fact it is obvious that Q’s ability which targets people after they have been hurt is meant to be read as a defense mechanism. Q will hurt the people who make them suffer and not others. However, Q uses their ability in an overly-sensitive way and doesn’t discriminate among their targets. Yumeno puts themselves in a situation where they will always be wounded, no matter what others do. Q is so scared and diffident towards people that they have chosen to consider every person an enemy. This is something which ends up hurting them more than what it helps them. This is made obvious both symbolically and plot-wise.

1) The symbolic representation of Yumeno’s complicated situation is highlighted by their doll. The doll appears as a monstruous version of Q themselves since they wear similar clothes. This means that the doll being broken to unleash the curse represents Q themselves being hurt by this whole vicious cycle  which keeps damaging them.

2) Yumeno ends up in a dire situation because of their own actions. As a matter of fact they provoke Lovecraft and end up paying the price for this. This is important because of several reasons.

First of all, both Yumeno and Lovecraft are representative of the horror genre and they are both associated with the montrousity, but in different ways. Yumeno’s monstrousity is linked to the mind and to one’s interioriy, while Lovecraft is monstrous because he is not properly human and so he is far stronger than humans and somehow difficult to properly understand.

Because of this, Yumeno’s meeting with Lovecraft shows how the former can’t expect to face the world alone helped only by their power because Dogra Magra has limits and there are forces against which it won’t work.

At the same time, Yumeno is also punished because of their insensitivity towards others. They have fun torturing people with the things they are mostly tormented by, but Lovecraft shows them that a person’s darkest side can be dangerous not only for the person themselves, but for Yumeno too. Because of that, Yumeno should show empathy towards people’s struggle and not approach them in a light-hearted way.

In conclusion, it is true that people must learn to face their fears and short-comings, but Yumeno too should learn not to toy with these things because it could be dangerous and it won’t let them develop healthy relationships and they need them.

I hope this answer your question!

Thank you for the ask!

[servingkarmalikecake]

Motorcyle Drive By

“Alec, Alec please Listen to—“

“No.”

“Please Alec, it—“

“No.”

“Alexander—“

“NO!”

This is how it starts—the day that changed everything.

Magnus’ shoulders sag as he chases after Alec—always chasing after this stupid, beautiful man, he thinks, with a weary smile that never quite reaches his eyes.

The hallowed walls of the former New York Institute stretch up on either side of him, still impressive and imposing, despite the ruin they now stood within. It had been foolish of them to think that they could have won, that they could have even survived…after everything they’d lost? This world belonged to Sebastian now; there was really no sense in denying it at this point. They may have outrun it for a time, seeking refuge here in New York for a little while but really, hadn’t they just been avoiding the inevitable?

Foolish, indeed.

Magnus’ hurried steps echo off cracked stonewalls as he follows after Alec, who was purposely putting distance between them—making the Warlock work for it. He wants to be indignant about it—after all, he was the one slowly turning into a monster, not Alec—but he couldn’t…he wouldn’t.  

He finds Alec standing in the library, which is now just a shell of its former self. Tall book stacks now stand barren, save for a thick layer of soot and ash and the occasional torn page that hadn’t been burned in the fire. The fall of the institute had felt like the very last of their hopes finally being snuffed out and although Alec would never say it, Magnus knew that he was mourning, for what once was and perhaps what could have been.

Now there was nothing except fire and blood and death…so much death.

Magnus is silent as he carefully navigates through the debris that litters the floor. He’s making his way towards Alec, who has his back to him and is staring down at a large piano that was lying in two halves, as if someone had sliced right through its middle. It’s a grim sight to behold, even amidst the ruins that crumbled all around it. Magnus knew why Alec was so fixated on the piano. He knew it and it broke his heart.

“Alexander…” He starts slow, gentle, as if he could somehow coax Alec into seeing things from his point of view with a whisper and a smile. Ah, if only it were still so easy..

Magnus stills behind him and reaches up to place a gentle hand on Alec’s stiffened shoulder, ignoring the way his veins sing with pain under his skin with even the subtlest of movements. He knows that Alec is thinking about Jace and he wishes, more than anything that they had the luxury of time to dwell on such things…but they don’t. They’re already living on borrowed time; Magnus can feel it inside of him. Demon blood that was once his source of existence, of power, had been twisted and deformed by blight and soon, he would be gone. Too soon.

His resolve steels when he is met with only silence and he continues, because he has to. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear but—“ Alec whips around to face him so fast that is shocks him, fury and hurt and tears burning in his enormous eyes. Magnus’ resolve crumbles and his words die on his lips, which quiver with an unspoken agony that mirrors in his eyes.  

“You think this is easy for me?”  Alec asks, and his tone is so cool that is chills Magnus, all the way to his bones. “There is no reality that you are ever a burden to me.”  

Alec’s words are sharp and they cut Magnus down to his core because they were stupid, foolish words that he himself had uttered to Alec once—back before the world had fallen apart and they still thought they had a fighting chance. It felt like someone else’s life now; distorted, like a faded picture that was hard to make out.

Magnus’ chest heaves with a sob that he was desperately trying to keep inside. He needed Alec to understand, before it was too late. “But I won’t be me anymore, Alec…” He whispers brokenly, ignoring the agony that radiated beneath his skin where Alec’s hand gripped him firmly.

Magnus had seen the effect that the blight had on the Warlocks. It had started with the very oldest of them first, their very own demon blood burning away their humanity until there was nothing left but a mindless demon on a tight leash—that Sebastian wielded. He knew it was coming, he’d been feeling it for weeks, the subtle simmer that slowly turned into boil as his veins began to blacken beneath skin that felt cracked and curled and raw, like wallpaper catching fire. They couldn’t outrun it, no matter how much they tried, and Magnus was so tired of running.

His gaze lifted tentatively, seeking the comfort in Alec’s eyes that had always been there before now. Now they just looked haunted. Magnus hated himself for asking Alec what he was asking, but he couldn’t bear the alternative—he just couldn’t.

“It has to be you, Alec, I’m not strong enough…” His voice hitches dryly, even as the words force themselves out of his throat, as if desperately trying to remain unsaid. Alec looks stricken, as if Magnus’ words had slapped him, hard and Magnus thinks for a moment that he is going to deny him.

Alec is already pulling away, taking a step back and forcing that distance again. Ever determined. Magnus loved him for it, even if it was all so very…pointless. “Please, Alec,” Magnus sniffled then, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He could feel the tears pushing up against the walls he had built to keep in all the emotions that he could no longer process in this world. It was taking every ounce of energy and sheer willpower for Magnus to retain control of himself for as long as he had already managed, he couldn’t afford to lose control—not now, when they were so close to the end.

“It has to be on my terms Alec…please…please…I need you to do this for me…please.”  Magnus had never begged for anything in his life but here he was, dropping to his knees and clinging to Alec’s legs, begging for the unthinkable. It was agony, in every sense.

Alec seemed frozen in place, his eyes tired and hollow as he gazed down at Magnus like he was a stranger crumpled at his feet. Agony.  

Silent tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and Magnus sniffled again and choked on another sob, struggling to retain some semblance of dignity. Whatever for, he did not know.

Something seemed to switch on behind Alec’s gaze and he jerked suddenly, like he’d just woken from a nightmare and needed to clear his thoughts. He said nothing, just held up a hand in front of him and shook his head, and then he was gone. Turning on his heel and stalking out of the room, broken glass and splintered bits of wood crunching beneath his boots as he left Magnus alone—a crumpled, broken mess.

For a long while, Magnus remained where he was, his shoulders shaking with dry sobs that bounced off the hollow walls. He felt hopeless and helpless and so many other things that twisted into a massive ball inside of him that was impossible to control anymore. Alec had asked him once, what scared him and it was this. Right here.

Magnus cried then. He cried for what they had sacrificed and what they had lost—what they had to lose still and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

Eventually, like most days, Magnus finally managed to get himself back to his feet, wincing openly because there wasn’t anyone left to hide it from. The pain that simmered inside of him was constant and torturous and soon, it would be too much to bear at all, Magnus knew it was only a matter of time.

When he stepped back outside, the sun, which had already started to disappear behind the haze, was hanging duly in the sky, casting sickly shadows on everything around him. His gaze fell on Alec then, who was perched atop a motorcycle at the bottom of the steps, gazing off in the distance like a goddamn postcard. It was breathtaking and Magnus’ chest seized sharply, a fresh crop of tears already threatening to make their escape.

He didn’t know what to say. Alec looked like a natural sitting on the sleek machine and it stirred something in him, something that he feared was already beginning to burn away. Magnus wanted to ask him where he’d snagged the thing but found that he didn’t really care.

“Get on.” Alec says, just like that, without even looking at him.

Magnus blinked, his gaze flicking between Alec and the bike. He trusted Alec; would follow him anywhere in this entire fucked up world, but they didn’t have time for this. They just didn’t have the time. “Alec—“ It was the only word he managed to get out before Alec’s head snapped around so quick it was a blur and instantly killed any retort he thought he would like to make.

Alec’s gaze was fixed on him so intently that it commanded compliance and Magnus was helpless against it. He always had been, after all.  “Magnus.”  Alec said, simply, with just a hint of impatience that instantly softened his expression. It was just a simple thing, but Magnus understood it. He understood Alec and so he gave in.

Magnus nodded, once, firmly, as he walked over to where Alec sat, offering him a small, defeated smile as he climbed up onto the bike and tucked himself in right behind. Alec’s back was firm against his front and Magnus allowed himself to dissolve into that warmth that felt like home. He sucked in a deep breath and dropped his head down on Alec’s shoulder, arms snaking around his middle and holding on so tight he might never let go.

Alec kick started the bike with a confidence that made the very corners of Magnus’ mouth curl with the fondest smile. Alec was nothing if not determined.  The motorcycle roared to life beneath them and Magnus’ eyes fluttered shut, surrendering it all to Alec and this moment.

It didn’t take him very long to figure out the mechanical aspect of the bike and soon enough they were roaring along down one street after another. The wind was warm and sharp and it whipped painfully at Magnus’ skin and tangled his hair. Alec was like a steady, comforting warmth against him and Magnus sucked in another, deep, cleansing breath, burying his nose right between Alec’s shoulder blades. He smelled like leather and smoke and so many other things that Magnus didn’t want to think about.

Once upon a time things could have been so different and Magnus feels bitter and cheated that this had become their fate. It wasn’t fair, he thought, petulantly, as if he still had the freedom to be so childish. Those days were gone, along with all of their friends. There was nothing left for them here, not anymore.

Magnus feels Alec’s muscles tense against him as he removes his arms from where they were anchored around his middle and he smiles, leaning in close enough to press a small kiss to the back of his neck. Just a small assurance. Everything is fine, or, as fine as it can be, anyways. He smiles as he raises his arms up, stretching them out on either side of him as they zoomed down the street like they were the only two people in the world.  

Magnus knows what Alec is doing and he loves him for it, he always has. Alec was stubborn but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that there was no other way; Magnus had seen it in his eyes, even when he was denying it with his mouth.

When he tires of the wind’s relentless torrent his arms return, sliding back around Alec and locking him in place, as if he could freeze them right here in this very moment.  Magnus would never say it aloud but he was tired. Tired of running and tired of fighting and tired of pretending that he wasn’t going to die.

There was never a reality in which leaving Alec wasn’t absolute torment, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t have to happen. Magnus knew it, and he knew that Alec did too, deep down, in the dark places.

By the time Alec parks the bike back at the bottom of the Institute steps, the red sun had nearly sunk into the depths of a black horizon that would devour Thule with all the ugly things that crept around in the darkness. A small shiver shook him as he slid off the bike, his legs stiff and sore and crackling with a pain that made his fingers shake. Magnus glanced up at the darkening sky and frowned, his brows knitting together as he followed Alec up the steps and back inside the ruined Institute. He didn’t need to say it, Alec was just aware that they were running out of time as Magnus was.  He wanted to scream. Just scream and scream until his throat was hoarse and his lungs gave out but he said nothing instead, just stuffed down the agony and forged on—it was the least he could do.

Later still, the pain will become too much for Magnus to hide and he really will scream and the sound of it—the pure agony that resonated at its core—would break Alec. Break him right in half, like that stupid fucking piano. He will realize that he couldn’t ever really fix anything at all and it will consume him, much like the blight, that had turned all of love’s veins demon-black.  

In the end, it is blackness and it is red-hot pain and then it is nothing. Just sleep.

[envahissant-a]

NAME: kraglin obfonteri RANK[S]: first mate/second in command of the yondu udonta ravager clan BIRTH DATE: unknown AGE: unknown HOMEWORLD: xandar GENDER: male SEXUAL ORIENTATION: pansexual SPOKEN LANGUAGE: standard (english)/xandarian AFFILIATIONS: the ravagers/guardians of the galaxy/avengers M-SHIP NAME: vehement

PHYSICAL TRAITS

EYE COLOUR: blue — he has vertical slit pupils and the shade of his irises changes according to his emotions. pale blue (grey): fear, doubt, concern, regret bright blue: anger, frustration, impatience dark blue: happy, excited, aroused HAIR COLOUR: brown/silver HEIGHT: 6'0'' PHYSICAL BUILD: very thin PHYSICAL COMPLEXION: he has lost a few teeth during heavy physical fight and have replaced then with silver metallic ones. he also asked to have them filed into pointy teeth. various physical scars, most noticable are the ones on the right side of his face. he also has symbolic tattoos on his neck going down the middle of his back for all the kids the ravagers brought to ego but no one knows that. he is very pale but due to his years serving as a slave in a mine as well as being the ravagers' most skilled mechanic, his skin was stained labored work. unlike many would think, he often takes showers tyvm. HIDDEN TRAIT: he has cybernetic arms from elbow to fingers from stealing food on a moon near xandar where he grew up as a slave. only yondu, the medics and the people he's slept with know of them.

COMPARING XANDARIANS TO HUMANS

xandarians are much more durable than human beings. they can survive being smashed into walls, falling from very high places and can be beaten to a pulp. they are also much more powerful than terrans in terms of strength depending on genes. xandarians have eight times more rod cells in their eyes, which makes them more sensitive to low light, than humans do. their extra rod cells also allow them to sense motion in the dark better than terrans. this would explain why kraglin is first on berhert when they are surround the milano's crash site. their blood is blue which means that any physical changes of their skin under all kinds of exertion, embarrassement, etc, their skin turns into various shades of blue rather than pink and red. their bloodflow runs faster so any severe open wound would have to be treated quickly. the blood is as thick as ink which stains excessively. ronan the accuser paints his teeth with it. ------------------------------------------------------------------- i do not own the following information. xandarians have two hearts. that being said, they heal much faster than terrans. their immunity is high but are still subjected to catch disease and get sick for a short period and the road to recovery will vary depending on the strength of the disease. they also age much slower than humans giving them a larger lifespan (range unspecified for now) they eat a lot... and don't gain weight from it. IMPORTANT NOTE: these are specific headcanons written by a friend who wrote is a few years back, regarding their own muse back then. i had asked if i could use them and so i am crediting them as they were written by ribs. please do not use these information if you do not have permission.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

SKILLS && ABILITIES

kraglin is an expert pilot, one of the best (if not the best) among the ravagers. (m-ships, eclector, quandrant) he mastered the use of blades from a very young age in order to defend himself. though blasters are usually pulled for a quicker death, kraglin keeps various shapes of blades hidden on him. he's also a skilled marksmanship and well trained in hand to hand combat. he is a master thieve quill gave him yondu's yaka arrow and rocket built him a yaka controller fin and eventually mastered the use of it. it took him some time and left basically no one uninjured (poor drax).

PERSONALITY

krablin's loyalty is unquestionnable. even after temporarily siding with taserface during the mutiny, yondu never doubted his intentions when he gave his captain's prototype fin. when the centaurian was released from the brig, he could of killed kraglin to add to the pile to treacherous pirates but didn't and that says as much as needed. kraglin is a smart guy. to be named yondu udonta's second in command took someone with unique set of skills and a sharp mind and kraglin was that man. i'll be honest with you, don't mess with him and don't piss him off... unless you want to face his feral side.

[duraxxor]

Prelude of Myotis - Finale

Entry 207 - Several weeks had passed since the intriguing rebirth of Oscar, a geist who was like any other until he came into contact with the compound known as Sanguinite. The Sanguinite appears to violently altar one's state based off of what it is they may desire with the cost of their own former will. This is something I wish to avoid considering that I already struggle to hold a grasp upon who I am to start. But the results themselves are rather lovely in all honesty. I feel as though Oscar has become one of my Eyes. He shows a great increase in both strength and intelligence. Yet, his loyalty tethers him to both my own plans and with the assistance of his unholy master, Dathuro Deathcleave. The Sorceress' theory proved to be true on the nature a geist shares with their master. As if I doubted her from the start. The repaired muscle and tissue seems to be quite flexible, perhaps even malleable. Proper test were administered and every result has surpassed all my expectations. But I cannot rest here, not when there is so much more to be done.      

Entry 213 - One of my fellow cohorts I worked alongside within a former organization has willingly taken it upon herself to be my second test. She is a unique specimen not only because she is a living organism, but because this experiment will be a fusion rather than a escalation. Miah Ambershade has decided that Subject Talyn and her cannot exist without one another, which is something even I knew from the start. Oh well, it was worth a shot. Once again, two beings went into the chamber containing the Sanguinite. Unlike the Oscar, who had collapsed onto the floor before his reanimation, both Miah and Talyn held through despite the agonizing symphony they created. Their bodies gave off this illuminating light that appeared to scorch one's sockets with crimson fire. But I even I knew it was from the Light's doing as this was something quite abominable. Even through the practically, air-thin walls, I could feel the aroma of boiling blood tickle my nostrils. Their bodies twisting, perhaps writhing into what appeared to be a miasma. A Miasma? Perhaps that is what I will call her should she live through this experience. 

Entry 214 - Miah and Talyn have successfully fused into what appears to be a feminine being. While there are not any type of issues in both skeletal structure, scorched flesh was evident and quite possibly a given. Subject 2 or Miasma gave me a quick demonstration of her speed and strength. She sprinted down a mile-long network within less than six minutes. When she came across a sealed vault, rather than trying to turn the circular, locking mechanism, she decided to use brute force and ripped the entire vault door from it's hinges. That massive seal was about one thousand pounds. Power came with a price as her muscle structure reestablished itself and hunger began to settle within her abyss. Luckily for her, I gave her the four options: A Sin'dorei, a Ren'dorei, a Kal'dorei, and a Human. She devoured both Sin'dorei and Kal'dorei without so much as a second thought, leaving only a few scraps so the reality could settle within the minds of the latter. She then displayed a sense of pride by tearing the Ren'dorei's bonds and dragging her off to her quarters, leaving the human to rot in his own urine. I know not what she did within her chambers but I cannot help but at least enjoy the amount of thought she placed into her choices. Sadistic and Cruel. My guess is the void elf maiden would likely be a main course for her to take in slowly because of the latent magics. After all, the Sanguinite itself does contain contents of shadow magic within. Let's just hope it doesn't counter balance and turn into some sort of void fiasco. Overall, I'd say another success. 

Entry 217 - I am a man of my word. Benjamin Lewinters would have a means to physical function again. As many know, the former magi's body had began to succumb to decay and his ability to even walk was become quite difficult to maintain. I appreciate his patience with me, as always. And not a moment to soon when I realized that his mind was beginning to deteriorate. Despite what I felt could be a risk, Lewinters volunteered to be the next step in my plans. Willingly taking on the role of Subject 3, a wheelchair was provided so that no risk would be taken against any other individual who remained pure or had already been touched by Sanguinite. For nearly seven minutes, Benjamin stared into the crimson jewel with both fascination and thought. I could see the dim energies of his eyes speaking to both myself and the crystalline substance. " How far have I fallen? " I knew he would always have his doubts but not because I was untrustworthy, but rather because of the reckless history the two of us share. But despite this, the wheels began turning and as I was distracted by a distant memory of the days of the living, he placed his hand upon the substance. Once again, the shimmering light of scarlet heat began to engulf his form, but not in the same manner as the first two. No, this light was calm and gentle with his transformation. Perhaps the Sanguinite's responses were based upon the bidder's emotion? Oscar was a being forged of instability. Miah was a living being seeking a purpose while Talyn sought the power to destroy, but both sought to thrive and survive. But Benjamin's motivations were self-preservation. 

Entry 218 - Something changed in Benjamin's evolution. Rather than having a dramatic spike in regeneration, his bonds of flesh were burned away, all the way to the bone. And as I watched in surprise, I truly thought that something had gone wrong. I quickly activated the mechanism to veil the jewel from sight and tore the double doors wide open with a strong sense of urgency. I had thought that the Sanguinite had robbed him of everything, tearing his flesh and blood all the way to the marrow of his bones. But the energies that coursed through this skeleton proved that death wasn't the affliction. In fact, the bones were carefully placed in a perfected fashion. I called to him and the eyes sockets began to blaze with crimson energies whilst Lewinters as a whole levitated before me. A fume of similarly-colored substance responded with a chilling voice. " Lord Daevara. You mustn't worry so much for me. I have been given exactly what I want. Why rebuild that which burdens me when I can shed my flesh and live as that which I once feared? " A lich. Benjamin Lewinters had chosen to become a Lich of both his and my own design. Once the two of us had time to process this change, Lewinters displayed the ability to create an shrouded illusion of himself much like the portal keeper he normally would portray. He only requested that he be given time to think and research what documents I had. I do hope that this newly awakened lich doesn't have any intent to overthrow me as most would suspect. Perhaps he will be tested by the best Herself. 

Entry 224 - Subjects 1 through 3 appear to be operating at a decent pace. Not signs of any sort of betrayal or even a hint of madness. Oscar trained with his geist brothers and sisters and in the process learned that he could enhance them with his own latent energies. This ability was as enticing as it was threatening due to the nature of the corruption itself. Let us hope that he does not turn into some sort of fiend that seeks to spread his own virus. Miasma remains unchanged other than her strengths enhancing over time. Lewinters had fashioned his own garb for when he wasn't wasting his mana or energies on projecting the illusions of a mortal shell. Yet, Dathuro Deathcleave refuses to partake in any of this. He speaks as if he would rather continue perfecting his works of art within the Blood Forge. Perhaps he isn't as power hungry as Subject 2 or 3? I know Deathcleave, he clings to the old ways of wanting to die in the field of battle. A death that he was robbed of. And I will honor his choice so as long as he continues to craft such beautiful designs for me. And who knows, a time for battle may come sooner than we suspect? 

Entry 225  -  Another has been added to the collection under the same negotiations as Subject 4. However, due to her existence as of being an undead construct, Subject 4 is the remnants of an artificial creation from another tasked with the harvesting of various souls. Wires, threads, and 'electrical' currents, I shall call her Tesla. one could wonder just what exactly drove her to her submissive servitude. Nonetheless, the results have been particularly promising as she follows every order without question. She's the perfect servant and I would see to what exactly her limitations are and will be. A unique development has occurred that she has bound herself to me in such attachments that one cannot help but feel that there is something deep within her that no even she is aware of. I shall monitor her carefully. 

Entry 229 - The time has finally come. After carefully measuring and tampering with the Sanguinite's properties, I believe we have finally done it. To any who read this should I not recover from this experiment, I ask that you do not replicate this compound. For if this plan doesn't work correctly, death may not be the worst thing to happen to this thrice-damned corpse. Not very many are aware of the segregated substance I have added to it. A single strand of purified-hair of Hir'eek. If you are not familiar with troll lore, that is the Bat Loa who was worshipped by trolls as the Midnight Sky. A single strand of hair can contain many latent energies known as mojo. Of course, this substance had to be tested for impurities due to the loa's corruption through G'huun. Something I would rather not repeat. Either way, if anyone aside from myself is reading this without my permission, I have either died or gone completely mad. 

It was the eve of the new year, and Mr. Myotis had finally finished all of the necessary preparations. Miasma had successfully kidnapped and obtained the lord's former wife after a long period of time. To his dismay, Telondra Daevara was nothing more than a broken husk of what she once was, filled in by the void energies that the Ren'dorei clung to. And while it made the monster sick to his stomach upon how pathetic is truly was, there was a humanity in him that reared it's ancient skull. An old compassion for his first wife that was not long for this world. How he had wished that she had come sooner than later. How she did not bare the insidious mark that plagued his family bloodline. Why couldn't things be different? Why did the path always seem to tread down the means of cutting individuals down to put them out of their own misery?

Despite all of this, the Faceless could not dwell on such trivialities. No, he had to lead this prospering organization with strengthened resolve. He wasn't alone anymore and had to accept such things. Two servants directly bound to him that he had dubbed Miasma and Tesla. Miasma had bore him the fruits loyalty and lessons that he himself had to relearn through concrete thought. Meanwhile, Tesla provided him as a servant who would do his bidding without question as to what or who it benefitted most. To him, Duraxxor Daevara was a god amongst monsters. The two creations contrasted quite differently in identity that he could not help the bemusement that swelled within him as he tread down the halls of his secret hideaway. He had told Miasma (Miah) that he was heading to his coffin for a dark meditation. But one could not rest after what had transpired in the past several days. So many wonderous possibilities that were weaved within the mind. And yet, the same word still hung in the ceiling of his cranium much like the avian nightwing. 

Evolution. 

Stripped of his armor, Duraxxor stepped through the doorway that seethed with the energies of the malevolent void. A shroud covered the entire torso as he left nothing more than pant leg upon his body. Crimson eyes peered around the incoming room as technologies of a vast variety beeped and hummed with the electrical machinations of a engineer's work. A laboratory that carried the various scent of putrid chemical beakers that stung mortal nostrils with disgust. Chemical equations and schematics veiled the paint job of the walls as critical thinking was clearly applied in this specific area. But who could have done such a thing?

" Ah, Mr. Daevara. I wasn't expect you to be back so soon after our little... meeting. " A violet-haired elf peered through his safety goggles without a single care in he world. Gloved fingers adjusted a nearby microscope as he examined a dark red substance beneath the sample. " You've come just in time, I was just examining the Hir'eek sample you had delivered to me. " The violet tresses trailed down his spine with a hint of red behind the dominate sheen, hinting that the Ren'dorei was original a crimson-haired fox. A lab coat stained with various colors delicately hung over the back of his spinning chair. Thoughtful humming continued as his void-tainted orbs bore witness to cellular acceptance. Duraxxor spared no pleasantries as he cared little for idle chit-chat when progress was in the making. " And, what have you found? Is it compatible? Or am I wasting my time? " The white-haired devil stood there as his own stare looked to the microscope, as if he could feel each cell within the sample writhe like a worm in an aquatic puddle. 

The void elf pulled his visions from the studies so that he could look upon the monster he was quite familiar with. " Not even a playful retort? I trust that your evening hasn't been the most pleasant of memories, aye? Well, luckily for you, you have Dr. Solexstras Sunflare as your physician this evening. " A balled fist was brought to contain the clearing of his throat from extending any further. " It took some time but yes, the compound infused with the samples you provided has shown to prove that you and the DNA are able to adapt and meld together. " Crimson beads stared into the doctor's with narrowed vision, hinting at some form of paranoia that sought to see that he possessed little to no doubt in his own mind. " And will they consume a vessel? Because the last thing I want is to no longer possess a will of my own because something went wrong, Doctor... " The ragged tone of his voice only added to the amount of anger he would possess if something were to go wrong. 

Dr. Sunflare's features seemed to hesitate from the piercing gaze that Daevara was notorious for drilling into the souls of those that were weakened over time. " The drawback is that if you take everything in at once, it very well could inevitably mutate your own cellular code. While yes, you are a creature of the undead, mutation and even some form of decay isn't an impossibility. Any type of flesh matter can be manipulated, that is why necromancy has become a practice derived from the Shadowlands itself. "  Hopping down from his chair, light feet strolled onward towards a certain machine that contained a set of opening doors within. The idle beeping as he began to punch in a numerical code slowly brought the entryway to click, causing said doors to open and reveal four crystalline shards that hummed with crimson concentration. Each one was large enough to fit within the palm an average sized hand perfectly. " Through the process of cryomancy and hemomancy, you have provided me with enough specimens to filter out and readjust the chemical compound without removing the threads of energy that lay dormant within. Luckily for you, I possess a collection of soul shards to empower the rituals necessary for such a thing. Now then, my advise is to take one of these every three days so that your body can adjust to the changes slowly. " 

Impatience began to settle within Dura's features while the wrinkles of caution began to dominate his expression. " I understand what you are saying. Last thing I want to do is overload myself and fall into pieces. I have quite the group that would be most unpleased if I was to... fuck myself over. " A faint laugh was given as he removed the shroud that wrapped around his shirtless form. Stone-colored skin marked by the testaments of his own personal trials reflected the various lights within the room. Darkened veins pulsed with the magics and essence that he had drained to insure his self-preservation. 

The Doctor had never seen him without some form of armor veiled over his body and could not help but approach more thoroughly on the matter. " You've been busy, I see. When you said that you devoured more than just blood, I'll admit I couldn't take you seriously... but now I see that you harbor... power. " The last word was uttered in a feather-soft tone. Nervousness enveloped the normally well-poised doctor as he understand that any sort of trouble that would merit to a true threat to his grand design. Hands fidgeted as he proceeded to pull a hidden drawer underneath the protective display. The energies sizzled and static streaked towards the thick glass in response to the nearby familiar that possessed similar magics within him. The Doctor rose up and presented him with a metallic box, offering it to the Myotis with care. " Tread lightly, Mr. Daevara, crush the stone when you are ready and do try not to exhaust yourself. Return to me when the seventy-two hours is up. " He bowed his head as Daevara took the box. " There is a chamber you may use before you leave. " A swift gesture towards the doorway with only one way out. 

Slowly, Duraxxor took the offered box and with a nod, he traveled to the nearby chamber, shutting the door behind him. However, just because the door was the only entryway did not mean that the Doctor could not monitor him from the outside. A camera's image was brought up on an interface. A blank room created for nothing more than containment of raw energies and instabilities. Dura would've been lying if he didn't possess some sort of nervousness about his mind. All he could think about was how much a change like this may affect him. So many people to consider in the moment. " Miah... Malice... Ryssa... Teremath... Caine... Luminarra... Malakortana... " Their names were uttered within his mind as well as the images of the memories that were forged in this twelve month period that was about to come to an end. A single hand was placed upon the top of the box as he hesitantly grasped upon the clasps, snapping each with delicate care. 

A batling suddenly flapped it's way into the room from a ventilation shaft, landing carefully upon the Doctor's shoulder with a chittering. Violet eyes looked towards the avian creature with care as he provided a single finger to brush across the messenger that bore a note between his little toes. " I know, you are nervous for daddy, aren't you? He's going to be just fine... " The soothing voice of the void-tainted played across the batlings ears as his vision stared into the bright screen with a wince. 

" If all truly accept me for the choices that I make, then let this New Year but the year that I, Duraxxor Daevara, will have his vengeance and the world will know of the name... Myotis! " The words were shouted, like a dark incantation to a spell that would be cast, enveloping his resolve as he tore open the lid to reveal the catalyst that would begin his journey anew. The various wounds seeped with blackened, vaporous tendrils of his own essence sought to place their grasp upon the prized jewel within. A crimson ruby that seethed with the same radioactivity as it's siblings of creation. Duraxxor's left hand grasped as his own goals and motivations strengthened his will. " Give me the power... of evolution! " One final shout was made as he clutched the sparking substance. A scarlet mist began to expel from within as a brilliance of the same hue hummed with vibration. The faint sound of shrieking was heard as the energies placed in it's creation was released, sending electrical pulses directly into the man's arm as he clutched desperately to keep his grip upon it. The gritting of fanged teeth noted the struggle as it brought him to his knees. Now he understood exactly why the doctor had warned him with caution to only take so much at a time. The size disguised the potency within. Both hands now clutched it towards the Myotis' hearth now as he the solidified source slowly and painfully seeped into his flesh. 

The black smog of energies violently spewed from his form as he felt his own flesh begin to change and adapt to the substance he was taking in. This wasn't just raw energy that one could suckle on. No, this was the essence of a powerful being that identified as a patron deity to some. Despite the amount, Hir'eek's chittering voice could be heard within his ears as one by one, deceased cells felt something latch upon them, birthing a hybridized state of unlife. The crystal had been completely absorbed into his being but the changes continued. The sharpened talons landed onto the ground as he stood on all fours. A violent spasm in each and every muscle as he felt the manipulation of his skeletal structure begin to change within his spine. A series of pops and cracks as shoulder blades began to extended past the flesh. A instant rip and tear unveiled a pair of large, skeletal wings that began were covered in a bright, crimson essence. Such a painful sight forced a bellow of pain from within the now shining creature that could feel other changes taking place. An opening of his eyes brought about a thought to renew the shifting resolve. " Not yet... I mustn't... give... in! " This shout brought about the reconquering of his physical shell so that no other bodily changes would take place. The wings had been enough to suffice as he did not want to lose himself in the moment. Talons dug along the metals as the pulsing energies began to dim, placed within the inner recesses of his own reserves for later. 

And so, Duraxxor arose. A new set of wings lay upon his shoulders as their flesh began to regenerate with the threads of lifeblood to fuel such a drastic change that took place. The winged harbinger of Myotis panted unendingly from the amount of toll that such a thing took upon his body. The raw magics had left a blemish upon his chest that still steam with the searing of flesh in the shape of a jagged 'M'. Slowly but sure, he made his way towards the doorway, limping in the process. 

Before he even had a chance to touch the knob, the Doctor immediately had himself full covered and prepared for the potential energies that may leak out and seek to corrupt another. Both hands, despite his lack of physical strength attempted to hold him up so that he did not fall. " Mr. Daevara... How are you feeling? " The hazard suited figure questioned whether or not he was alright, wondering if he was even there anymore.

A fang-filled grin slowly blossomed on the dark individuals features. The winged cloak that had finally finished it's work soon retracted back into his flesh as a means to provide secrecy. A crimson stare was afforded as he looked towards the doctor before gesturing his sight to his winged messenger that bore a message for him to take into his palm. " That was... one hell of a show... what have you got there for me... little one? " Careful to not bring harm to his bat child, he took the note carefully and opened it up to read it's contents. The eyes of the creature scanned each and every line before the smiling expression began disappear. A rumbling growl was the only indication that he was most unpleased about the choices made in the way this note was written to him. " If you will excuse me, Doctor. I have business that needs my attention... " Stabilizing his body now, he would hobble his way towards the door with the batling a fluttering beside him. 

The doctor quickly began to retort to his dismissal. " Not even a thank you. The least you could do is give it five extra minutes before you go rushing off! " Despite his protests, the Doctor knew it was useless when it came to Daevara's own stubbornness. In fact, the Myotis was already out the door with a resolve that would reach new levels. " Why do I even bother... Shadows protect you, Mister Myotis. " 

[ mentions big or small: @sanguinesorceress @miah-ambershade @blacksorrow-wra @ryssa-ravensdawn @swiper-lussy @igniting-the-dawn @hollow-shadow-puppet ]

[ also tagging for guild relevancy: @onyxwra @kira-seastar @gravekeeper-anna and @the-golden-flash-blog​ ]

[amwritingmeta]

14x14: Dean and Cas and Questioning the Status Quo

Note: I found this in drafts and I believe I chopped it into smaller pieces, but I thought I’d post the whole long thing because it actually ties back to the lack of communication currently happening in S15 and the need to shake up the status quo. By, you know, someone actually speaking words. And the other, you know, actually listening. :) 

Let’s take a closer look at this, because it warrants a closer look, or so I’d like to argue: these two idiots are (and Sam too but Dean and Cas more prominently so in this ep) locked in a status quo that is informed by Dean’s inability to stop believing that what he wants is something he can’t have.

Know what I mean?

Now, I think the dance around this fact in 14x14 is quite elegant, way I see it, and though what exactly the gorgon represents is up for interpretation, the simple facts are:

Noah the gorgon in and of himself is a snake symbol, and per the ouroboros of the title, the snake symbolism in 14x14 might be leaning towards renewal, rebirth and a conjoining of opposites rather than, you know, the snake that brought knowledge to mankind and helped us rebel........ Yeah, kinda good either way you look at it, no?

Noah also Biblically brought the flood, which is a mighty symbol of rebirth, so he’s this double-edged sword where both edges spell renewal

Noah looks at you, assesses you and sees the truth of you, established with the truck driver, his note to Dean and with Jack - a bit of a narrative tie to Michael in 14x01, who blasted onto the scene reading the truth of people’s motivations left and right, and subtle foreshadowing of how Michael will shed Dean and go looking for a new skin *shudder’

Noah enjoys both men and women (yes indeed bisexual symbol and nope I am not the first to point this out of course)

That’s the basic makeup of Noah’s demi-god character, yeah?

Now a bit of a look at the interaction we have in the episode between Dean and Cas. (I have a very strong urge to refer to them as nothing but the two idiots for the rest of this post but) (I shall not)

1. Invisible Cas (and Jack)

It’s rather striking. The first image we get of Sam and Dean breaking through that door together, and alone, only for a mirror moment to come barely a minute later of them doing the exact same thing, only now Cas (and yes, Jack) is stepping through the door with them. *goosebumps all over*

What does it mean? Could mean a host of things. To me? 

Well, Noah can’t see angels. Right? Fair enough, he can’t see either Cas or Jack so it’s not like Cas is special here, not really, but what does Noah represent? I talked briefly in an ask about whether he’s representative of toxic masculinity and how I don’t think he is. 

He’s submitting to his fate, isn’t he? He’d rather not, but for survival’s sake, he doesn’t really have a choice. He’s performing ritualistic killings because that’s what’s expected of him. He’s not taking any real pleasure from it. Not very toxic, especially when compared to Michael the Dick Archangel, who breaks his promise to Rowena and slaughters the innocent’s of the bunker without mercy.

I would say Noah is more likely to be representative of suppression/repression, predominantly suppression in Dean, because oh, man, is Dean tying himself in very knowing knots this episode, and predominantly repression in Cas and Jack, which is why it makes enormous sense to me that he cannot see them.

You see, where Dean is completely aware of his emotions and is actively and consciously suppressing them - which is so fucking unhealthy - Cas and Jack are both shown, throughout the episode, to be unaware of how deeply their unconscious repression runs. I’ll talk about Jack in a separate post, but oh god. It’s lovely.

Sidenote

Suppression is a psychological term for when we consciously push down unwanted thoughts or urges. Used healthily this is where self-control lies, but when an unwanted emotion or urge is ignored out of fear, this suppression tactic can turn into a pattern of behaviour that may lead to unhealthy coping mechanisms (like drinking, casual sex, violent outbursts, addiction to danger etc) *side eye Dean Winchester* and irrational behaviour and lack of self-control due to lack of self-awareness.

Repression is a psychological term for when we push down unwanted thoughts, urges or very often memories into our unconscious, where our conscious mind is protected from having to deal with these particulars, because our conscious mind is kept wholly unaware that these particulars are a part of us. However, these repressed thoughts, urges or memories will push to be recognised, because anything we try to simply forget, that is deeply affecting, will never stay forgotten, and being unable to confront these buried thoughts, urges or memories may result in unhealthy outlets, such as the coping mechanisms and irrational behaviour mentioned above.

(long af)

2. Almost Liturgical

This scene is so incredibly wonderful for setting up Dean and Cas’ attitudes for the rest of the episode. Cas is observant and supportive and quietly brazen in making Dean be honest with him, and Dean can’t resist opening up, not when Cas asks him to. Prompts him to, even.

There’s so much softness from Dean here, and I’d say Cas sees it, and still doesn’t see it at all. Dean’s been looking at him with heart eyes for so long without it meaning that anything between them is developing or, I don’t know, renewing, that Cas just takes that softness and those heart eyes at face value.

There are subtle shifts throughout this scene between them, but the biggest one, to my mind, comes once Jack is back at the table and tells them he’s fine, because Dean then tries to swipe his opening up to Cas, as well as the severity of his reminding Cas of Plan B, aside by being flippant and adding this smile:

Which basically gets him a stern look from Cas -->

--> because no, Dean, Cas isn’t fine with everyone being fine. You can’t just make him be fine with Plan B, because Plan B is anything but fine.

And Dean looks contrite enough -->

--> and, I would say, realising exactly how open he just left himself to Cas’ scrutiny. Feeling exposed and vulnerable and a little raw and this isn’t helped by Cas putting himself in a position of having the upper hand by using a word that’s not in Dean’s vocabulary, because whenever Cas gets the upper hand it serves to remind Dean of? 

Yes, that Cas isn’t his to make heart eyes at.

Because? 

He believes, to his core, that what he wants, he can’t have.

I’d like to shake him. And shake him hard. Because even when Cas, over and over, through his actions and reactions, tell Dean exactly what he’s feeling, Dean still doesn’t see.

And so he goes from the soft expression and full on openness with Cas...

...to that ^^^ detached and Got Work To Do expression.

*shake shake bloody shake*

Now, of course, the fact that he’s being open and making heart eyes and feeling all sorts of things that are scary as all fuck to him and always have been - the scariest thing of all is love, right? - makes him go to great and unnecessary lengths to cover those feelings up to anyone who might be watching him.

And to suppress them to himself.

Stop wanting, essentially. Letting that hope flare that Cas could love him back only leads to pain and pain and pain, because in his low self-worth idled brain, his thoughts are stuck running along the same lines that they’ve always been running along, saying the same thing they’ve always said: why would an angel rescue him from hell? 

Which translates to: why would he ever deserve Cas’ love? 

In his head, he doesn’t deserve good things. 

And he’s perpetuating this conviction out of fear, rooted in losing his family at four years old, a loss that has cemented the belief of how Good Things Don’t Last, and this cementation has occurred in Dean out of sheer ego self-preservation, and Michael now is the ultimate proof of that. Michael in his head. Because Dean said yes. So -->

3. Overcompensation

This is Dean’s default reaction to Cas being in an obviously superior position, no matter how small that superiority might be. In 14x14 it’s something as simple as Cas having a deeper vocabulary and Dean being in the sudden situation where this is revealed to Jack, who couldn’t give less of a fuck, but since Dean just spent five minutes laying his soul bare to Cas, this moment is like a slap back to reality for Dean.

And what does he do?

He does what he always does. He tries to put himself in the superior position, because, truthfully, he knows he never really can be superior to Cas, because, um, angel. Yeah. Can’t really bypass that fact.

This ^^^ is all about Dean desperately trying to cover, trying to act like Cas knowing things beyond what Dean knows makes him, somehow, inferior. 

Look, Dean’s habit of pulling Cas down to Earth is never malicious in intent, but all to do with Dean’s insecurities and, in many scenarios, also directly linked to his falling in love and not believing, ever, for a second, that Cas the angel - as an angel - could or would or should love him back. 

The angle in 14x14, where he makes light of Cas’ superior vocabulary by putting him in with the brainy kids in AV Club - and look at how it sets up for Dean with his next breath trying to impress with his knowledge of Medusa, that turns out to be based in a movie that’s exaggerated the myth for entertainment purposes, which leaves very little of his knowledge to feel as impressive as Cas’ observations regarding the gorgon - the AV Club reference aids in Dean’s suppression of his emotions.

All the while this utter verbal denial of what it is that he truly loves about Cas serves to underline to us how he really feels deep down, and knows he feels deep down, which is why he’s scrambling to cover it up, terrified the truth is written all over his face, the way it is whenever he looks softly, softly at Cas and dares to open himself up to everything Cas means to him.

So instead, in dialogue, he goes:

-- Oh, look at the baby in the trench coat. Not so powerful now. -- Oh, look at the weird, dorky little guy. He’s not a commander. -- Oh, look at the nerdy dude who knows words. He is so not my type.

Yeah, okay, sure, Jan.

Meanwhile, Cas is like The fuck? -->

*darling Cas*

Now, when it comes to not seeing, we are presented with a baddie who eats the eyes of his victim to glimpse the future. Obviously he doesn’t snack on anyone’s eyes out of TFW 2.0, but he does carry a bit of the whole other side to him, where he can read people’s fate, with him in how he interacts with them, doesn’t he? It’s like he reads Jack’s palm, once he has him in front of him. And Dean and Cas?

Well, not the first one to point out that they’re both flat on their backs on the floor by the end of their encounter with the flood. 

I mean, their encounter with Noah. 

Who is actually the saviour away from the flood. Almost like their interaction with him constitutes the way out of drowning, for both of them. Funny that. But I’m skipping ahead.

First -->

4. Regards, Noah

Dean,

I see you standing alone by the truck stop reading this. I see you and the tall man and the red headed witch chasing me. I will always see you. Stop, or I will make you stop.

Regards, Noah

I’ll get back to this.

5. He’s a Lover, Not a Fighter

So, we arrive at the confrontation, which opens with the statement Noah makes of how he’s a lover, not a fighter. Interesting, isn’t it? Because this is truly the core trait of the entire TFW 2.0 --> innately they are not killers, they are protectors; they are not weapons, they are shields.

In the confrontation scene we also get a previously invisible and now not at all invisible Cas focusing on giving the antidote to the victim, while Jack keeps Noah distracted by listening to the fable. 

Cas is mildly on guard about the whole thing and finally comes right out and questions Noah’s motives for telling the story to Jack. When Noah gives voice to what could be read as Cas’ own worries concerning Jack burning off his soul, Cas attacks, because he doesn’t want to even think about the implications of what Noah is seeing, or unable to properly make out, in Jack -->

--> in this context, Noah as a manifestation of Cas’ suppressed fears about Jack’s choices.

Cas being in denial of how serious Jack’s situation is, is given to us in the El Saboros, because we see Jack alone healing himself, burning off his soul, and returning to the table with a ready lie of how he’s fine. Cas might not be convinced, but he’s also unaware of how Jack is still coughing up blood, and if he wasn’t suppressing his constant worry, arguably writing it off as him being overprotective, he’d most likely take actual action in order to stop Jack from walking down the dangerous path he’s stubbornly treading. 

(rather than the righteous path) (*clears throat*)

Back with the confrontation, where Noah very easily disarms Cas (demi-god that Noah is and all), slaps Cas twice, once across each cheek, and then kisses one of those cheeks, effectively paralysing Cas with gorgon poison. 

Cas goes rigid and falls to the floor, unable to move, but the antidote doesn’t work on Cas.

Why does the poison have the same effect on him as on a human, but the antidote doesn’t? Why does it take Jack sacrificing a piece of his humanity in order to tap into his angelic powers for Cas to be released from the poison?

Mh-hmh, let’s look at Dean before we try and answer, shall we?

Dean bursts in and Noah very easily disarms him (Noah can fight y’all) and knocks Dean’s head once, twice against the wall, rendering Dean unconscious.

Let’s glance back for a moment at how we got to here:

Throughout S13 Dean was confronted with toxic masculinity representatives leading right into him saying yes to having the most outstanding toxic masculinity representative literally possess him by the end of the season. S13 was all about making Dean aware of how toxic the ideal he’s modelled himself after for so long truly is, and he did begin to move away from it, this in order to be equipped to recognise Michael’s true colours, once he had to grant them absolute access.

S14 has been very much about confronting the past and all those suppressed/repressed fears and hangups being pushed to the surface. This while TFW 2.0 have all been asked - in not so many words - to find the answer to the question of What Do I Want? 

Dean’s reply to this question in 14x12 is so far from what the narrative is continuously angling for it to be, that only two episodes later that answer is not only nullified, but brings on a possible narrative punishment, because odds are that Jack, through self-sacrifice, is opening himself up to a world of hurt, and if Dean’s answer to the question of What Do I Want? had been different, if he’d reached that point in his individuation process where he could be honest with himself, then the outcome would have been different too.

But he hasn’t reached that point, and so the outcome is what we’re given in 14x14. So, what’s Dean’s answer to the question What Do I Want?

Plan B.

You see, Dean doesn’t believe that they’ll find another way to beat Michael, not really. Dean is humouring the people he loves, but he’s expecting them to be the ones to do all the emotional work and let him go, rather than him doing the necessary emotional work and confronting his fears, collected in the manifestation of his shadow-self: Michael.

Dean’s answer to the question What Do I Want? is to symbolically put himself into the box of societal norms that has dictated his relationship with his shadow-self for his entire life, and drown his ego, his consciousness, with the cycle of unhealthy suppression/repression that the darker side to his shadow-self is responsible for maintaining. (Dean’s suppressed longing for more, for a long and happy life; and his repressed childhood neglect)

Why? Because his fears run so deep that he doesn’t know how to confront them without annihilating his identity. To get to his true identity, though, he must confront these fears and understand the truth: that his fears are nothing but a construct, and that he can choose for them to no longer hold any merit.

6. Shake Shake Shake

Now, diving back into 14x14, where Dean and Cas are both flat on their back thanks to Noah.

So, let’s pull on the symbolical threads I set up at the start of this post. Threads that are very much tied to the Jungian doctrine of individuation, which I first wrote about here and have been reading up on since. (seriously it makes for deeply satisfying study) (Carl Jung was a great man)

Cas

When it comes to his worry for Jack, Cas deals in suppression, but when it comes to answering the question What Do I Want? Cas deals wholly in repression. He is not being honest with himself, and it’s given to us in his exchange later on with Jack, where he talks about humans as burning bright, unlike "things like us”. 

Yes, an unspecified thing is what he identifies himself with. 

He doesn’t identify himself as an angel, which, to my mind, is important, but for him to also step as far away as he can from humanity is equally pertinent because, well, this meta writer does believe that he needs to admit to himself what it is he truly wants for himself before he’ll be able to properly begin the final leg of his journey towards internal balance. 

Noah’s note underlines how he sees Dean, but Noah couldn’t see Cas, and to me this is all because Noah is much more narratively tied to Dean, while serving - as representative of suppression/repression - to narratively highlight these habits in all of TFW 2.0, but there’s another layer to it, where Noah is tied to Cas’ repressed true identity, meaning Cas is blind to his own repression.

(and Jack is blind to his own internal conflict, given to us in dialogue when he yells at Michael - childishly - that he’s not a child) (because Jack still is a kid)

Looking at the setup of Noah not being able to see Cas and Jack, it could be argued that he can’t see them, that he’s cut off from them, because they’re unaware of him, and so he’s unaware of them.

Awareness is key to confrontation. So, to me, it’s delicious that it’s Cas and Jack who grow aware of Noah and go to confront him, allowing him to see them, because it’s the ego’s awareness that allows for any internal imbalance to be confronted and worked through.

Moreover, Cas’ continued unawareness - his inability to recognise what it is he’s actually doing - of his own repression is what is keeping Cas complacent.

It’s keeping Cas accepting the status quo.

It’s keeping Cas paralysed in his own skin.

See what I’m getting at? Cas’ confrontation with Noah is brief, very, very brief, and Cas is disarmed very, very quickly and receives the kiss that paralyses him after being slapped, like a proverbial wakeup call, on either cheek, by the representative of his repression.

And, look it, when it comes to the question of why the antidote doesn’t work on him: if Cas had been human, it would’ve.

But Cas - being an angel - needs Jack to help him, needs Jack to burn off a piece of his soul in order to get the poison out, needs Jack to unlock his limbs and get him out of the paralysis. 

Jack, who in 14x08, was shown to be such an incredibly important tool for Cas’ individuation, since Jack is the one who symbolically (and literally) woke him, making Cas aware of his shadow-self.

And where Dean is unable to face his shadow-self due to his low self-worth making him fear what it will mean for his ego, aka his self-view and understanding of who he is if he were to confront his deepest fears, Cas’ low self-worth is equally exposed through his acceptance of the shadow-self’s threat to come and take him in his happiest moment. Cas doesn’t believe he deserves more, so for his happiest moment to be a point of punishment makes perfect sense to him, and this makes it incredibly difficult for him to break out of his complacency.

Better the status quo than the Empty.

Better a useful thing than daring to consider what would actually make him happy by truthfully answering the questions of Who am I? and Who do I want to be? and going for it.

*shake shake bloody shake*

The poisonous kiss from his repression, and Cas’ inability to get himself out of a state of paralysis without Jack’s help, doesn’t necessarily set up for what’s to come, but to me it does underline what is: as an angel Cas is stuck in a place where, as a human, he wouldn’t need help getting out of.

And this place that he’s stuck in takes a toll on the one person he’s tried, for seasons now, to protect - Jack - and this moment is entirely reflective of - and of course helps set up for - Jack’s choice to step into this exact same position for Dean, when he kills Michael. 

Dean

Oh, Dean.

Old patterns are a bitch. 

Actually, old patterns are turning into his greatest enemy, which gets me all kinds of squeakily excited for him. The lessons he’s been set out to learn for many, many moons now, are, at this point, hitting him so hard over the head they’re knocking him out against a wall.

Dean was fighting his toxic masculinity in S13. Growing aware of the ideal and moving away from it so that he can see Toxic Masculinity Michael for what he truly is, but because of patterns that have informed Dean’s sense of identity ever since he was a child, modelling himself on John and his mode of Feelings are Weaknesses that Will Get You and Your Brother Killed, Dean can’t bring himself to believe that there’s a way out of this confrontation with his shadow-self without killing the ego. Meaning without killing his conscious idea of himself. And because of the fear this brings of losing his sense of self completely, his incapable of believing there’s a way of beating Michael.

Even when Dean is sitting in front of the key to his own faith in the future, and yes, indeed the key to Dean’s faith in the future has always been Cas, and Cas is basically telling Dean that there’s no way Cas is ever giving up on him, and that they’ll find another way, Dean still can’t submit to his own need to believe, because his love of Cas is tethered to just as much fear as anything else, and confronting that fear, his fear of love and having hope for the future and believing that Cas does or could love him back, brings on just as much of an identity crisis as the thought of confronting his shadow-self.

And it’s all connected, of course. Because Dean’s internal fears don’t exist in a vacuum. But if he dared lean on his love for Cas and the faith and trust it’s always brought him, then he’d find the strength to confront his shadow-self and question all the lies it keeps filling his head with when it comes to perpetuating his low self-worth. Likewise, if he dared push past his identity crisis and begin to question the lies of his shadow-self that keeps his self-worth low, he would begin to feel the faith and trust Cas instils in him, and he’d start to believe in the love that Cas is continuously showing him.

But Dean can’t.

Dean is stuck in the belief that lingering in the status quo, and keeping to what he knows, is preferable, because there’s this huge thing in the way for Dean to be able to do anything else.

And holy fuck it’s formidable how this is now set up. (if I’m right in this reading)

The huge thing in the way for Dean to dare open himself up to his true identity is his inability to let go of old patterns, and 14x14 makes it explicit to me that this inability is rooted entirely in his neglected inner child. 

So what truly needs nurturing and attention and for Dean to grow aware of exactly how much he’s been neglecting it, is Dean’s inner child. An inner child that he’s been ignoring through his repression of his yearning for love. This yearning has been present in him since childhood and he’s repressed it by adopting the adage that feelings are weaknesses, and adopting this very harsh take on love in order to protect himself from a father incapable of providing the affection every child needs to feel truly safe and protected.

Moreover, Dean has been putting up walls to keep out the memory of the horror of his mother’s death and the guilt that’s haunted him and the mistrust it’s produced in him of anything good ever truly lasting for very long, and this, all this, is why he, in 14x14, teases Cas and tries to cover up how he’s really feeling and it gets him his head smashed into a wall by the representative of all of the above fears collected into his lifelong habit of suppression and repression of his true identity.

Noah sees Dean.

Noah will always see Dean.

And the narrative punishes Dean’s inability to break old patterns by having those old patterns knock him out cold, because clearly something needs to happen to shake up the status quo. 

Because the representative of Dean’s neglected inner child is...?

Jack.

And so Dean’s inability to do the shadow work needed, or to fully trust in those he loves, brings about the necessity for the representative of his inner child to step up to the plate and take matters into hand by expelling the manifestation of Dean’s shadow-self, while taking part of it into itself.

Yeah, I know right?

To my mind, Jack swallowing Michael’s grace is set to lead to not very good things.

Well, ultimately it will, I believe, but, oh, there may be quite a bit of glorious turbulence ahead. Or, at least, a huge push for Dean to face his internal imbalance and find a way to start all the emotional work needed if he’s to take full responsibility and stop running.

7. Off With Their Heads

This image is so powerful, because it serves so many possible purposes and can be interpreted in so many different ways, but here’s what I see:

A foreshadowing of the snake in Dean’s head (Michael) shedding his skin

An underlining for what Michael shedding Dean truly stands for: the first step toward internal rebirth/renewal for Dean

A plant for Jack picking up Felix and claiming him for a pet, which is deeply symbolic when looking at what Jack represents in the narrative, and what Jack himself needs for his own progression

But first, we get Sam also thrown across the room, very, very easily, by Noah the suppression/repression representative, because of course, Sam’s got his own shit to work through. Like his inability to take a moment for himself. His codependent behaviour runs so deep that he has no idea who he is unless he has people to look out for. And, good Lord, all the people under his protection getting killed by Michael after Sam insisted they bring Dean back. The internal conflict must be tearing Sam apart. *hands clutched to mouth* It’s not your fault, Sam!!

Once Sam hits the floor without getting knocked out (feels possibly significant here because Sam leading the way in letting go of the dependency and pushing himself into adulthood feels so important for Dean to finally allow himself to do the same) (but we shall see about that) we get Jack cutting off Noah’s head.

And looking at the fact of how Jack is the one to place his hands on either side of Rowena’s head, driving Michael out of her, you might say he cuts the head off both snakes in this narrative, right?

But, as I wrote here, he also swallows one of those snakes down, taking its essence into himself, while keeping a little piece of Noah in a glass box in his room, and so it can be said that he, symbolically, is tied to both symbols (suppression/repression/shadow-self) and is the last snake standing.

So. Turbulence.

Because Jack is no snake.

Jack has felt like a powerful symbol of internal balance for all of TFW and so for this symbol to now be in such absolute imbalance is quite possibly heralding Jack’s own dark arc, which could prove a necessary push out of the status quo that Dean and Cas and Sam are all in. 

Something to shake shake bloody shake them awake already.

Please. And thank you. :)

8. Access Denied

Cas has tried, on more than one occasion on the ride back to the bunker, to heal Dean, but he can’t. He can’t even see what’s going on inside Dean’s head.

*slow eyebrow raise*

Dean’s repression knocks him out -->

leading to Dean’s shadow-self no longer staying suppressed

leading to Dean’s inner child confronting the shadow-self with a declaration of how its not a child

Dean’s inner child swallowing the essence of Dean’s shadow-self down and declaring that it’s now itself again, restored to its former glory through taking into itself the toxic masculinity representative that’s the source of Dean’s repressed longing for love and his neglecting of his inner child in the first place

Oof.

Cas suddenly has no access to Dean because Dean’s repression runs too deep, and faith can’t reach where it’s not welcome, where it’s constantly shut down and mistrusted, and neither can love.

Especially not a faith or a love that doesn’t actually believe it belongs there.

The fucking status quo acting like the barrier it’s always been between these men, the barrier sitting like an enormous obstacle in front of open communication and honesty with each other, but foremost with themselves.

*so frustratingly amazing*

[abeautifulblog]

Oh Mary, my Mary

Since this meta is even more incendiary than usual, I'm prefacing it with the acknowledgment that it's a lot of extrapolation with little in the way of direct canon support. That said, if you accept that (A) Joseph is psychologically abusive (which, at this point, if anyone wants to argue, the burden of proof is on them) and that (B) their marriage followed the typical pattern for abusive relationships, then it's really, really not much of a leap.

[Discussion of various sorts of abuse and dubious-A-F consent behind the cut—because what do you think has been going on in that house?]

So I've theorized before that Mary had a fundie upbringing, the kind where she was raised to be a super-traditional housewife—one who'd be obedient and submissive, who would always put her own needs subordinate to those of her husband, who would never presume to dictate her husband's behavior. It would have seemed like exactly what Joseph wanted in a wife, someone who gave him that veneer of respectability but wasn't going to interfere while he did his thing. (Even though Mary turned out to be made of steel, and he's okay with that these days.)

They get married in their mid-twenties—I imagine there was a lengthy honeymoon period after the wedding, during which Joseph was the absolute model husband: generous, attentive, lavishly affectionate. He hasn't started to stray yet, because he's still enjoying the novelty of having an adoring bride catering to his every whim. He's taking the time to build up her love and trust for him—a surplus that'll last him a good long while even after he starts chipping away at it. And he's establishing a baseline—happy golden days that she'll look back on later, like, remember when everything was perfect, don't you miss those times? Don't you want things to go back to that? If you would just make an effort...

(If you'd like to learn more about the dynamics of abusive relationships, check out Lundy Bancroft's phenomenally good Why Does He DO That? It often starts with the abuser building up a perfect relationship, being a perfect partner, so that when that starts to change, it's easier to convince the woman that she's the reason things are going to shit, not him.)

But eventually Joseph does get bored, of course, and starts to entertain himself with affairs behind her back. I expect the first handful of times he stepped out, he hid it from her, sort of, though he probably didn't try very hard—after all, she was supposed to be the sheltered idiot who wouldn't notice. (And especially not if it was with other men.)

She starts to suspect; he laughs it off, how ridiculous for her to even imagine such a thing. Her suspicions intensify; he is hurt by her lack of trust, it's so hurtful that she's accusing him of this. He gets caught; okay I confess, it's true, but this was the first time it happened, and I'm so remorseful now (although I wouldn't have been pushed to it if you hadn't been so ___ lately), I've learned my lesson, I'll never do it again, I'm committed to being a better husband to you from now on. Cue another round of attentive-perfect-husband behavior, a second honeymoon period, and Mary making a conscious effort to “improve” her behavior, so he won't feel compelled to look elsewhere for companionship.

And then it happens again. And again. And again.

And every time, Joseph keeps moving the goalposts about what she's doing wrong, how she's failing, why she's making him unhappy and driving him to step out. Every time, he gets angrier and more defensive that she's getting upset with him about this, since it's her fault he's cheating, after all, if she would just be a better wife then everything could go back to the way it used to be.

All the while, he's lying to her like a motherfucking rug.*

(* “lied” in the Joseph sense, that is, intentionally misleading her but usually in ways that didn't involve saying anything outright falsifiable. I'm going to shorthand that as lying though, because that's what it fucking is.)

It takes years before Mary can finally recognize and accept the truth: that he was not acting in good faith, and never would be. It was never going to matter what she did or didn't do, it wasn't going to change his behavior. That he lied to her as a matter of course. These weren't misunderstandings or differences in perspective—he straight-up lied to her, all the time, he knew he was lying, with the full intent to deceive and manipulate her, and that didn't bother him.

She was slowly coming to understand that this was the person he truly was, even though it was brain-breaking trying to reconcile him now with the kind and loving man that he used to be, that she'd still catch glimpses of sometimes. They were like two different people altogether, and what happened to the man she'd been in love with?

(This was also the inspiration for the line in Mary's chapter: Sometimes it would be easier if she could think of her life as a horror film—that she lost her lover to the waves and when he came back, he came back wrong. That something malevolent and alien had taken up residence under his skin, not that he'd been a monster all along.)

But now, roughly three years in, she's finally starting to accept that there is no fixing this, no going back to the way things used to be, and she's mustering up the courage to leave him. Keep in mind, she has no means of supporting herself, since all she's ever been groomed for is being someone's wife, and she's not getting any emotional or material support from her (largely religious) social network. The response she's getting from every angle is that she made a commitment, and she should be trying harder to “make it work”—

Nevertheless, she's still found the strength to go, No, I could leave, I should leave, I can do it, I can survive on my o—

And that's when he saw to it that she got knocked up the first time.

Her half-formed escape plans go out the window, now that she suddenly has a baby to account for. It delayed her, let him recoup, gave him the chance to get her back on the hook for a while. The baby's going to change things, honey. We're a family now. I messed up before, but I'm committed to being a husband and a father, this is what I want. Things are going to be better now.

And because that was what she desperately wants to believe, seeing as she had no idea how to support herself and a baby both, she lets herself be convinced to give it another try.

But it doesn't last, of course, because it never does with him. This is when she starts to push back and her rebellion becomes more visible—the drinking, the bar-hopping, the public attitude shift. When she stops trying to keep up appearances of their perfect marriage and starts to flaunt her disrespect, is rude and uncooperative with him, even in public, because she doesn't care anymore if people know that there's something fucky in Christendom.

And eventually she starts to think seriously about leaving again. There are resources, right? There are places that will help women with children escape abusive relationships, right? Places that will help her find her feet, give her something to fall back on while she learns to support herself, it wouldn't be impossible for her raise a child on her own, she could—

And then she gets knocked up with the twins.

(I've said before that I don't think Joseph has ever physically forced himself on anyone, not when he's got better tools than force at his disposal. The caveat, that I usually keep to myself, is:

But if he did, you know it was Mary.)

By the time the twins are born, Joseph has finished cementing public opinion around them—that Mary's the volatile and aggressive one, abusive to him in public, a married woman out drinking and flirting in bars until all hours of the night, and Joseph is a long-suffering saint for honoring his commitment and staying with her anyway.

Now Mary's faced not only with the staggering prospect of having no money and no marketable skills and three babies to take care of on her own, but Joseph can also point out, If you try to leave, they'll take the kids from you and give them to me. Nobody trusts you to take care of them.

I think the twins were the point of no return for Mary, when she finally accepted that there was no running away from this, and turned her energy to survival instead. Crish was just one more nail in the coffin, and not even a necessary one.

*

By the time we meet them in the game, they've reached an equilibrium. “The Zara Shirt” aside, there's little in the way of open hostilities anymore—there's sniping, passive-aggression, and the occasional contest of wills, but mostly they just live and work around each other, go through the mechanics of cohabitation and don't interact more than they have to, certainly not on any meaningful level. Mary's not in love with him (hasn't been for a very, very long time) and doesn't give a fuck what he thinks of her, so he's not really capable of hurting her emotionally anymore. She knows which battles to cede, and how to get what she wants through other means when Joseph's being an obstacle. And she's not afraid of him, not on a day-to-day basis. (Her moment of knee-jerk fear at the end of the Zara shirt chapter is her being instinctively, viscerally afraid of what he is, not afraid of what he'll do.) She knows his M.O. inside and out, knows where she stands with him, knows what he'll do and what he won't.

Which is to say, there are a number of reasons why I don't think Joseph is physically violent. (Joseph-fans, you're welcome.)

For one, violence is unsophisticated and Joseph likes to think of himself as a smooth operator, not a brute. It would be a defeat, really; like admitting he'd been outmaneuvered intellectually, that he had to resort to that.

It's also prone to leaving evidence that could come back to bite him in the ass—not even Joseph's reputation could protect him if Mary had a black eye every other week, and you know that if she could get hard evidence of his abuse, something that would hold up in court, she goddamned would.

But even if it was a form of violence didn't leave marks (“Hair-pulling,” said my BFF, a prosecuting attorney who deals with a lot of domestic violence cases. “Unless a chunk gets pulled out, there's nothing but her word that it happened”), it would still be an inconvenient truth that would be utterly indefensible if it ever got out, and it is demonstrably not Joseph's M.O. to do things he can't spin in his favor. He's not a man who relies on his misdeeds staying secret forever—like the Robert affair, which he fesses up to when pressed—he just makes sure that he can downplay them, shift or share the blame, put them in a context that shows him in a more forgiving light. There is no way to spin “grabbed his wife by the hair and dragged her across the living room” that makes Joseph sound like the good guy.

That said, I think he does occasionally make use of both force (leveraging his superior strength to move her/block her) and the threat of violence. That necklace, the one you find on the floor in Joseph's living room—

I find it very telling that the dadsona knows that's a red flag. The necklace could have been dropped there by accident, after all, the kids could have been playing with it, there could be a perfectly innocent explanation—but that is immediately, instinctively not where his brain goes. (And then he consciously declines to think about it any harder, because of where that train of thought might take him--which pretty much sums up the Joseph romance.)

And it never gets explained, but considering how overtly the devs bring our attention to it—and that even a dadsona-who-wants-to-fuck-Joseph is uneasy about it—I think we can conclude that they were absolutely implying some bad shit.

(My headcanon is that they were arguing, Joseph came forward, looming over her as an intimidation tactic, and when Mary still didn't back down, he grabbed the necklace and tore it off her and threw it aside. (And then she proceeded to leave it pointedly untouched for the next two weeks.) It's not “violence,” after all. He never hurt her, after all. Because he wants to be able to say, with some version of complete honesty, that he doesn't abuse her. But the threat of it was absolutely present, and he knew full well what he was doing with that maneuver.

As one of my beta readers remarked: “My dad only hit me once—because once was all it took.” The efficacy of the threat can render actual violence unnecessary.)

(Alternately, Joseph could have been trying to buy off her anger with an expensive gift and she went “fuck this and fuck you” and threw it at the wall. Though at this point in their marriage, they both know that any apology is pure performance art, and I doubt he bothers unless there's an audience.)

But that's a background threat that only rarely comes to the foreground. On the whole, I think Joseph is careful to keep the status quo on this side of tolerable for Mary, because he doesn't want to force her hand, doesn't want to push her so hard that she snaps and brings hell down on him. Their life together is something she can live with. She's not happy, but it's remarkable how people learn to endure things (even normalize things) that no one should have to deal with, to the point where we stop noticing how horrendously unfair it is. She's used to this shit. Her life is unpleasant, but not unbearable.

I think I conveyed that pretty well in her Zara shirt chapter—that she's not walking around feeling sad and sorry for herself every day, she's getting on with business. That Mary's life isn't miserable so much as fucking exhausting.

*

I did decide, ultimately, that there was no way my fic could spend 100k words guiding Robert to his happy ending and just leave Mary to hang. It's my story, goddamn it, she'll get a happily-ever-after if I say she does.

The tidiest way for her to get a happy ending would obviously be if Joseph fell off the side of his yacht one evening, but that felt a bit too... wish-fulfillment-y? A bit too much like author-ex-machina? I wanted to keep it within the same feel as the game, and murdering people to get what you want is a bit extreme.

But Joseph's content with things the way they are now, and if Mary thought she could leave him (without throwing the kids under the bus), she would have done it already.

So what would effect a change in the status quo?

Well, if Robert blew things open, for one. Mary's certainly considered that possibility: It's not going to last forever. She's absolutely certain that one of these days it's all going to come crashing down and people will learn exactly what Joseph's been doing, exactly what her place in all of this is. One of these days, Robert's finally going to snap, or Joseph's going to miscalculate and fuck with someone who sees no reason to keep his secrets afterward.

If the full scope of Joseph's affairs became public (and it'd have to be a lot of them—if it were just one, he could remorsefully blame it on a moment of weakness/loneliness and get himself exonerated, like he does with the Robert affair), it would change the playing field immeasurably. Mary would suddenly be in a much stronger position, re: custody, and I suppose that's what she's waiting for at this point—for Joseph to get discredited so she's got a better chance of being able to fight him and win.

(On the other hand, if he manages to keep rolling nat-20s on his affairs and that never happens, well. I think the day Crish leaves for college is the day she serves him papers.) (Or maybe not; maybe by that point she'd feel like it's too late to start over, which would be its own tragedy.)

That said, she could also decide to just go for it. I think Mary (and Robert) are in a stronger bargaining position with Joseph than they realize, because his entire charade depends not just on people not-knowing, but not suspecting either. Even if people aren't inclined to believe R&M right off the bat, the idea will have been planted. If people start paying closer attention to Joseph's activities, if they start digging, talking to each other and comparing notes, the truth will out itself and Joseph might as well pick up stakes and move to a new city, because he'll be a ruined man in Maple Bay.

If Mary presented the divorce to Joseph as fait accompli—this is what's going to happen, these are my terms, here's what you get out of it, and you will go along with this or so-help-me-god I will destroy us both—there's a good chance that Joseph would run the numbers and decide that it was in his best interests to cooperate. (That is, if he believed they'd actually do it—he knows that Robert doesn't want to go public about that affair either, and might call that bluff.) (Spoiler, Robert's not bluffing.)

There would still be some small skirmishes, for form's sake and because his pride wouldn't let Mary win on everything, but she could probably (mostly) extricate herself from Joseph. (Though not entirely—because letting him keep face means she's got no grounds to argue that she should be allowed to cut him from the kids' lives entirely, and I expect he'd insist on custody weekends, etc, to keep up his image and to rub it in that he can.) Still though, that's a damn sight better than having to live under the same roof as a sociopath for the rest of your life.

*

Beautiful Day doesn't wrap up Mary's story completely; it's just too complicated to do it justice in a Robert-centric fic. The last chapter introduces change and shows things finally start to move that direction for her, but it's more an upward-looking ending than a tidy happily-ever-after.

(Though I like to think that after the divorce, when Mary's had to cede her social position at the church, she winds up finding real friendship with Joan and her circle of lesbians. Maybe have a lesbian fling. Start getting paid for her work at the pet shelter, go to school to become a vet tech. Let the kids dye their hair blue.

It's a brave new world out there, and Mary deserves to finally get the chance to live in it.)

[joygaroz]

There You Are

[3/7] [Day Ten: Fox’s Wedding] [5/7]

SPANISH VER: FFNET

Link, join, share, exchange.

There were many ways to make an alliance, drinking from the sacred wine rice and feeding a vampire with one’s blood was not the first of her options. Much less the second.

But apparently, she had run out of options. Not even with all the knowledge Tsunade carried, not even with all the years of experience and skill that the vampire now in front of them had, was that Sakura felt confident in declining before such proposal.

“Am I understanding correctly? Drinking from this wine rice with him will make my body stop degenerating?” Sakura wondered when the silence took over the room.

Sasuke, who was contemplating the sealed bottle in his hands, raised his gaze to meet the emerald of her and, after placing the object on the table, clarified before Tsunade could open her lips.

“Drinking out of this wine would make the compatibility between us be certain. By doing so, your magical abilities will be balanced with mine so it won’t repel me when I bite you”

“B-bite me?” she exclaimed as on reflect act she took her hand to the scar on her neck. Once he noticed the defensive movement, Sasuke sighed.

“To erase the poison flowing in your veins and that is deteriorating it, I need to extract it” he continued explaining before being interrupted by the unusual human.

“Yeah, right. You expect me to believe you’re not another leech trying to kill me by satisfying its hunger?”

“Lee—” the immortal repeated indignant before being interrupted by Tsunade.  

“He’s right, Sakura. Among the abilities of some vampires there is that of extracting and healing poisons. A defensive mechanism that they developed through the years” she reassured and Sakura looked at her mentor with distrust, her hand still laying on her neck’s mark.

“Even if you tell me that, Tsunade-sama, a vampire’s bite turns you if it doesn’t kill you, doesn’t it?”

“It won’t be your case, we’re talking about a white witch after all” Sasuke refuted at her back, his tone almost irritated but passing unnoticed by the apprentice.

“Just moments ago, it was only a theory and now you are telling me all this with such certainty. Forgive me if I put it in doubt” Sakura alleged, still fearful of the alternative they were offering her.

“Because prior to this encounter, it was not possible to discard these doubts” Tsunade reasoned, approaching her apprentice to call upon her attention by placing her palms on the young lady’s small shoulders. “Sakura, you’re a healer by nature, and if you’ve survived to this day it’s because there’s a magic in you fighting to keep you alive. The white magic”

Her words were reassuring, and by being her mentor the one who was saying them, the young lady could not help but to keep silence while she eased her fears. This was the only person that had offered to shelter her when no one else had done ever since she ran away from her old home, giving her a roof, food and water, treating her wounds only to teach her soon after how to do the same. Giving her a new purpose when she had lost it all.

Sakura wished to keep doing so. She wanted to be as a good healer as the high priestess.

Sasuke, although remaining silent, observed the scene with detail, his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze inclined while he perceived the changes on that girl’s body. Her heartbeats easing as seconds passed by and her aura spiking with a warmth that invited him to catch.

Had he been any other vampire, his instincts would have led him to cloud his better judgement. But, since he was a vampire with the experience he had, although tempting, his curiosity to find out the type of partner this girl would be for him was greater.

“Alright” they finally heard Sakura agree. “Let’s continue with this” in her tone, the resolve and determination pretty ingrained. Sasuke smiled anew before the character she demonstrated, that human soul’s bravery visible on her delicate features.

Without a doubt, a very interesting partner.

“Great. Now that we all agree, let’s make this formal” Sasuke interrupted the sentimental exchange between the mortals and approached them with the bottle on one hand. When he was only a pair of steps of distance, he extended his other hand towards the young lady of pink hair “Uchiha Sasuke, first generation vampire”

Noticing then that until that moment they had not had the opportunity to introduce themselves, Sakura deviated her gaze from his hand to his face, captivated once more by those dark eyes of deep stare, she gulped while she responded the greeting.

“Sakura Haruno” was her short reply since her provenance was a mystery even to her.

“We are forgetting the most important element” Tsunade observed while she smiled entertained and crossed her arms at the vampire’s direction.

Growling, Sasuke rolled his eyes and Sakura stared at the reaction with strangeness.

“The cups?” the apprentice ventured, getting rid of the contact with the immortal and looked for the shelf where they kept said objects with her eyes.

“That too” the priestess commented still entertained, noticing how the vampire understood what she meant. “But I was thinking more about how this was a ritual that links a mortal and immortal”

Sakura frowned for a brief moment before widening her eyes in surprise and realization. This she had read on one of the many books at her mentor’s library, curious about the many stories and rituals of the immortal.

“We need the testimony of the wise fox”

“That person has no wisdom”

“Do you know each other?” the girl of pink threads couldn’t help to wonder, her emerald eyes sparkling with curiosity. She was cute, Sasuke thought, but he’d rather she didn’t show so much interest toward that annoying topic.

He flicked his tongue instead of answering, he occupied himself by opening the wine bottle and, after noticing he wasn’t going to bother replying, Sakura pouted. Soon her mentor called after her while she rummaged through her belongings at the shelves behind the counter, the scroll with the nine-tailed fox seal.

“Vampires and foxes are natural enemies, being one of them the one that feeds from living beings and the other one the one that protects said beings of the nature, the conflict of interests has taken them for generations to clash from time to time” Tsunade explained, refreshing her mentor’s memory, certain she had caught her on more than one occasion reading such tale. “Although, this particular pair is another story”

Sasuke huffed before such comment “It is not” he corrected, but Tsunade continued to smile entertained and Sakura remained expectant with curiosity.

“That is not what he has told me”

“You know him too, Tsunade-sama?”

“He’s a frequent client, he’s very impulsive” her mentor nodded before being interrupted by the immortal being.

“Stupid” he corrected and the high priestess rolled her eyes while she opened the scroll between her hands and then let it fall on the floor.

Once the scroll extended completely along said surface, this one started to brighten before the expectant stares of Sakura, Tsunade and a bored one of Sasuke from the other side of the room.

From that scroll emerged a curtain of smoke that little by little revealed an amorphous shadow, only after it stopped casting invocation radiances, did Sakura manage to recognize the blonde tails of that creature start to disperse the smoke. Nine, just like the tales she had read said, the fox with the most power carried nine tails.

He was backwards and, when he turned to face them, she managed to appreciate his features better. He was half human, tall and of blonde rowdy hair. His eyes were a brilliant shade of sky blue, and on his cheeks, three lines adorned each side. Even with the extensive tails behind him, to Sakura he seemed like human like her.

“Old Tsunade!” the blonde effusively greeted, passing unnoticed the presence of the other two and continued to talk with such enthusiasm. “It’s been a while but I don’t think I can accompany you to drink I —Bastard!” he interrupted himself when his senses finally repaired on the other presence in that room and his friendly demeanor changed into an annoyed one.

“Are we going to continue wasting time?” the Uchiha ignored as he placed the cups, he had found when the humans had been invested in realizing the invocation, on the counter.

“Hey, don’t ignore me you damned” the blonde started to wince but was interrupted on this occasion by the high priestess.

“He’s right, Naruto, we are in a pressing situation. We need you to carry out the wedding” Tsunade explained, to which both the aforementioned and her apprentice, cried out in unison:

“Wedding!” they both said, and after hearing their coordinated reply, they turned to see each other in surprise.

“Who are the prospects?” Naruto wondered, changing his expression to a serious one as he addressed the priestess.

“Who said anything about a wedding? I thought this was only a spiritual ritual” Sakura questioned on the other hand, noticing how the other immortal remained calm. Walking towards him with strong steps, he stood before him again, looking steadily until he returned his gaze to meet hers. “Tell me the truth, exactly what do you intent to do to me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you wish to hold a human wedding? We could also do that if that is what you wish” he smirked, very entertained with the adorable way the girl’s cheeks tinted with her irritation. He could sense her heart start to beat quickly and her blood flowing through her veins as a result to her emotions and he found such incidence so captivating.

The little witch was really good at tempting him, so he decided o play with her a little longer.

“I must make clear, however, that my kind does not celebrate what you call a ‘honeymoon’, but we do hold a ‘bloodmoon’” he tilted his face when not only did the blush on her cheeks spread, but also noticed when the girl’s eyes widened flustered. “which is a bit rougher of what you habituate”.

Parting her lips in search for something to reply, Sakura remained faltering until Naruto’s voice called upon their attention.

“Okay, lovebirds, time to celebrate a wedding!”

It seemed like, under the testimony of protective fox of the mortal nature, she would be one of the few mortal souls to marry an immortal.

[ruinouss-archived]

Dossier

Disclaimer: This contains the basics that mainly center around a more modern world. Any verse specifics can be found under her VERSES page.

The backstory TL;DR of her bio is at the bottom. Backstory tws: child/domestic abuse mention, alcohol, drugs, and death.

Mini Ref  - Other Visuals - Tattoo and Scar Guide (coming soon)

General

Name: Faye Rivera

Nicknames: Red, that bitch

Race: Human (most verses)

Age: 28

Gender: Cis-Female

Orientation: Demiromantic pansexual

DoB: May 3rd

Occupation: Gun for hire

Appearance

Height: 5'3"

Body Type: Hourglass

Skin Tone: Tanned

Hair: Reddish Brown

Eyes: Heterochromia blue (left) & brown (right)

Notable features: Freckles over bridge of nose, beauty mark on left jaw, notch in right ear, scar across right side of neck, and small ones scattered over body

Modifications: Three piercings in right ear, five piercings in left ear, behind left ear, and on her left hip/thigh.

Face Claim: Adria Arjona

Personal

Skills: Expert hand to hand combat, expert marksmanship, expert swordsmanship, first aid, cooking, minor mechanical knowledge, minor hacking knowledge

Weapons: Dual swords/daggers, hidden blades, retractable bo-staff, dual pistols, various other weapons depending on the job

Likes: Cooking/eating, drawing/painting, danger, drinking, the ocean, music (listening and playing)

Dislikes: Authority, failing, spiders (borderline phobia), being alone, losing her temper

Fears: Blackout darkness, claustrophobia

Family: Fiona Rivera (mother), Ryder Rivera (older brother), Cesar Steele (father), Joseph Duvall (Mentor/adoptive father)

Personality: Upon first impression Faye comes off as a cocky, audacious smartass with a death wish. She lives life to the fullest and tends to be rather reckless in some of her actions. But don’t let this fool you, she’s very calculating in her risks and has at least two back up plans already in the works. She’s slow to trust and can come off as a bit callous in some of her mannerisms and responses and her chaotic neutral disposition can prove unfavorable if a higher bidder comes along. It’s a cruel world and she’s learned the hard way to do the double cross first. She’s constantly looking for the next job/adventure and can find the silver lining in even the most bleak of situations.     Her mouth tends to operate faster than her mind which often gets her into some sticky situations but she’s learned to adapt and roll with the punches. Literally and figuratively. If one manages to tolerate her and stick around long enough to gain her trust they’ll earn themselves a friend who’ll gladly trade her life for theirs. They’ll also learn there’s more to her than meets the eye. And as a final warning, be mindful as she has a nasty temper that can get the best of her in the blink of an eye.

Bio:     Ever since she was born, life was difficult to put it simply. Her father, Cesar, was a cruel man who took over a criminal empire at a young age. Her mother was forced to be his property in exchange for her sister’s life. He found his men to have too many morals and decided to treat his two children as experiments, forcing them to commit heinous acts at a young age and severely and inhumanely punishing them when they disobeyed. Faye got the worst of it as her she got his tenacious and rebellious spirit. Her mother did what she could to protect her children, attempting many times to escape with her children. Each failed escape ended with a worse punishment that only fueled a fire and hatred for the man. It wasn’t until she was around eight and her brother was eleven that they finally got their chance to escape.     A highly trained mercenary had been hired to infiltrate Cesar’s domain and gather what intel he could. Upon discovering the family, he decided to assist them in escaping, believing Faye’s mother, Fiona, would be able to divulge valuable information. It was an escape as Cesar always seemed to be a step ahead. They managed to escape the compound but didn’t get very far before Cesar had tracked them down. The mercenary, Joseph, was badly injured during the firefight, leaving the three basically defenseless. In a last ditch effort, Fiona gave her life to save her children. Faye and her brother took to the woods, using their smaller size to their advantage as night fell. Assuming they’d succumb to the elements, Cesar gave up the chase and returned to his base of operations.     The pair waited for hours before finally moving, knowing there was nothing else but to look forward. Eventually they came across train tracks and followed it to a city where they survived in the slums by stealing and taking advantage of anyone that crossed their path. Over a year passed before their luck took a curious turn. Faye was attempting to pickpocket a stranger when they managed to catch her by her wrist. To both their surprise it turned out to be the same mercenary who had rescued her and her brother. He had survived his injuries that fateful night and spent days searching for them before ending up in the city. He decided to offer her a deal; he would adopt her and her brother but they’d have to follow his every command or they could remain on the streets where eventually their luck would run out. At the thought of becoming mercenaries themselves and avenging their mother, they agreed.     The following years were exhausting and difficult as they went through rigorous training to prepare themselves for the cruelty of the world while also having to balance school work. When their vindictive intentions came to light, Joseph confronted them with him and Ryder having a huge falling out who refused to bow down. A fight ensued but Joseph was quick to put Ryder back into his place, showing their was still much the eighteen year old could learn. This only upset Ryder who took off, leaving Faye to train alone. Despite the pain she felt from her brother’s abrupt disappearance she remained with Joseph, continuing to learn the trade and feeling the first sting of betrayal. They had been on a mission when one of their comrades double crossed them for a large cut. While they managed to complete the mission, Joseph suffered injuries that required him to retire.     Faye continued on and when she was twenty-one fell in love with a man named Ethan who showed her an even more lucrative world dealing in the underworld. She ignored her father’s warnings and pleas to not go down that path, running off with Ethan who manipulated into doing just about anything. A few years went by before she was ultimately betrayed by Ethan who attempted to kill her, slicing her neck and setting the building they were in on file. Miraculously, Faye managed to survive and pull herself out where she was able to get medical help in the nick of time. Her father came to visit where they reconciled. However, it was a short lived reunion as Ethan had heard of Faye’s survival and sent some men to dispose of her. Joseph was killed protecting his daughter. Grief stricken, Faye gave in to her rage and spent the next several months tracking Ethan and anyone associated with him down before brutally killing them.     Unable to properly cope with her grief and pain, she dissociated, becoming a living weapon. She reached out to contacts in the underworld, taking damn near every job offered to her no matter how gruesome or cruel the specifics might’ve been. She turned to alcohol and drugs to help dull her senses. This continued for about a year until her brother managed to track her down. It was a rough month as he forced her to detox and face what had happened and what she’d been doing the past year before finally bringing her back to normal. He helped her grieve and the two caught up where she learned he had in fact killed their father and took over the criminal empire, changing things so it was mainly just guns and drugs they dealt with. He’d always kept an eye on her but it wasn’t until she really went off the rails that he decided to step in.     Ryder remained with Faye, accompanying her on a few missions and showing her a few of his contacts that assisted in more training and fine tuning her abilities. He stayed until he was certain she wouldn’t slip back into a dark place. The two remained in contact and Faye continued working as a gun for hire with jobs ranging from being a body guard to contract killer. She remained rather neutral with the jobs she took, only stating killing animals and most children were off the table. Old habits died hard and she found herself finding some comfort in alcohol on the lonely nights.     TL;DR: Father was a crime lord and murdered her mother in front of her and her brother as they were trying to escape. The siblings lived on the streets for a year before a mercenary took them in. She trained with him even after her adoptive father and brother had a falling out and her brother left. She eventually ran off with some guy who manipulated her and introduced her to the underworld before eventually betraying her. She managed to survive and reconciled with her father right before her ex’s men tried killing her and instead ended up killing her adoptive father. This sent her in a rage where she hunted down her ex and his associates.     After successfully killing them, she was unable to cope with the guilt that came with her father’s death. She cut herself off from her emotions and started taking just about any job even if it meant killing innocent. This continued until her brother decided to step in and try and get her back on the right track. When he managed to break through they caught up and she learned he’d killed their father and had taken over the criminal business with some changes. They remained in touch and eventually Faye started working as a gun for hire again, taking jobs that ranged from being a body guard to a contract killer with a slightly better moral compass than before.

Extras

Knows a few different languages

Claustrophobia and fear of darkness stems from being locked in a footlocker/closet/cellar as punishment from her father

Usually always has snacks on her

Sometimes gives people nicknames

Has used the pseudo name Sharon Peters (say it fast)

Has safe houses scattered all over