#its just when it ends up hurting other people who are completely uninvolved with the conflict that i have an issue

[scarycranegame]

(In relation to your emotional self-harm post) It ALSO really bugs me when people will post rancid anti threats/takes/etc under the "proship safe" and "proship positivity" tags. Like. "Proship Safe" is supposed to be SAFE for us to browse WITHOUT having to see that. And it sure as hell isn't positivity. I feel like that goes beyond emotional self-harm and goes into causing harm to others on purpose

thats so right actually; just generally after thinking about it for a while after making my post about this kind of thing i think it's actually really fucked up to post antis' bullshit completely untagged in like... any of the main proship tags. i understand that most people who do that generally mean well but there's something to be said about how posting horrific death threats in a space meant for positivity makes you look

[eggytranslations]

Volume 1, Chapter 1-Ambush

Content warnings: death, ableism, suicidal thoughts, mention of racism?

The whole thing happened so suddenly.

“Thump—”,  a small blue and white porcelain bowl fell to the ground, rolled twice, and fractured into several small pieces. At the same time, the shiny brass bell that had been polished by time also fell from a great height, jingling twice with an especially alarming panic, and then slumped over beside the fragments.

“Shaoye…shaoye, shaoye...somebody help! Shaoye has been bitten by a snake!...”

The shrill voice cut through this early spring afternoon, a rare bright and sunny day. Very quickly, endless bustling footsteps came from the originally tranquil mountain courtyard—kick and clatter—you could even hear the sounds of these panicked footsteps knocking over things. 

Shen Qingxuan widened his eyes to stare ahead, working hard, trying to get a glimpse of the beast that had bit him, but his eyes were blurred, as if they were covered by a layer of thin white gauze, so no matter how hard he tried he could not see clearly. Internally, he could not help but be stunned by the snake’s powerful venom, but also secretly think, man proposes but God disposes. He had thought of countless ways of dying, yet how could he have foreseen that he would ultimately end by a snake’s venomous fangs?

Thinking up to now, in his heart of hearts, he was not shocked, and just closed his eyes. He was vaguely aware that the servants who rushed over had moved him from the chair, and were frantically calling for the physician while yelling for someone to fetch the antidote pills.

And anything after that, he did not know at all.

The eldest young master of the Shen family was bit by a snake in his mountain villa.

This news travelled like the birds in the mountain forest had flapped their wings and carried it out themselves, taking only a cup of tea’s time before sounds of horse feet came from the originally tranquil mountain path. One after another, the horse carriage and silk sedan chair

finally arrived outside the doors of the mountain villa in a rush. 

The rider on the horse and the noble in the sedan hurriedly disembarked, entered through the doors, and without anyone greeting them, burst into Shen Qingxuan’s room. 

The man lay behind green gauze curtains with both eyes shut tight. His forehead was overtaken by an unclear black-purple color, that dense color was even gradually spreading throughout his whole face. His originally light colored lips became strangely flushed red from the contrast of his black-purple face. His refreshing outer appearance was completely gone. At a glance, he actually looked like three parts human and seven parts ghost already.

“Xiao Xuan!” An elder with lightly frosted temples saw Shen Qingxuan’s state and let out a low cry that was sorrowful and grieved to the utmost point. “My son!” He cried, as if he still had words to say, but could only choke.

“Laoye.” The uninvolved steward who stood to the side quickly interrupted his master’s grief, and reminded him, “Laoye should not be grieving now, the proper thing to do is to think of an idea to save shaoye’s life first.”

“Yes, yes.” Under the rush of grief for his son, Master Shen only woke up to his error through that warning, and he quickly got up with a hand over his eyes. Still choking with sobs, he asked the servant beside him: “Did you all remove the toxin yet?”

“There are always snakes, insects, rats, and ants on the mountain, therefore all the regular medicines are supplied. The antidote pills for snake venom have just been given to shaoye, but...the effects are not clear.”

“What kind of snake was it, could you see clearly?” the steward hurriedly asked.

“It was too chaotic then, this lowly servant could not see clearly. It was coiled on the pergola

in the yard, but it was also blocked by the branches. In my quick glance, I only saw a section that was as big as the mouth of a bowl���” the servant spoke and gestured, but once he finished speaking, his forehead was firmly slapped. The steward angrily said, “Glib-tongued servant, you are full of nonsense!” Ignoring the servant’s tearful complaints, the steward simply explained to Master Shen, “Laoye, Lu-mou also lived in the mountain forests as a child, but I have never heard of a snake that could grow that thick and big. Unless it is a python, but big as pythons are, they do not easily bite people, and their toxicity is even less likely to be this fierce. This servant must be speaking rubbish, he is only describing it so dreadfully so that he can be punished less.”

Master Shen was terribly upset, and could not handle this presently. He just angrily told the retainer to scram.

“Where is the bite?” The steward asked again of the servant girl who was shaking by the doorpost. She was Shen Qingxuan’s personal handmaid.

“On the wrist.” The maidservand’s face was pallid, and she anxiously added, “Since the sunshine was good today, shaoye wanted to sunbathe, so I wheeled him into the yard. As usual, shaoye wanted to drink a pot of floral tea at that moment. After making the tea for shaoye, I was going to bring some tea cakes, but just as I turned around and walked a couple steps, I heard the tea cup fall to the ground. When I turned back around, shaoye had already been bitten by the snake...” At this point, the maidservant already had tears in her eyes, and was sobbing.

“You saw that snake?”

“I saw it. That person was not lying. That snake really was as thick as the mouth of a bowl, and perched on the railing. When I saw it, it had just drawn back. I saw it was pitch-black, only its abdomen had a bit of gold. I have been on this mountain serving shaoye all these years, and saw some snakes that were beaten dead, but I have never seen such a large snake...”

“It was really that big?” The steward was still uncertain.

Her knees went soft, the girl kneeled on the ground, crying while vowing: “How would this maidservant lie about such an important matter? If there is a trace of a lie, then this maidservant shall die miserably!”

On this side of the room, the steward checked the testimony. On the other side, Master Shen suppressed his sadness to observe his son’s injuries. When he pulled out his eldest son’s wrist, he saw that the injury bitten by the snake’s fangs had already been crossed through with a knife. This helped him relax a bit, knowing a servant was quick-witted enough to promptly slit an opening and suck out the poisonous blood. But this snake venom is too aggressive; in just a short period, it caused a grown man to lose all his senses. Unfortunately, this toxin may have already entered the bloodstream, and would be difficult to clear!

Master Shen grasped that thin and pale wrist, his heart filling with sorrow. It is said that the eldest son is the pillar of his family. He did not have a son until he was 30, yet he let Shen Qingxuan fall into an ice cave at the age of eight. After the rescue and a high fever, not only did his son become mute, but his lower limbs were also damaged by the frostbite, and could only ever be paralyzed on the daybed. Master Shen originally thought it would be easy to raise and support him. There was no need for him to obtain fame and fortune; with the Shen family fortunes, there was no issue supporting the eldest son for his whole, peaceful life. However, who would have thought that at age 27, he would be bitten by a snake.

“That ruinous beast!” With a low shout, Master Shen even had thoughts to catch that snake and eat its meat raw.

“Laoye, do not worry.” The old steward, who has looked after the Shen family his whole life, yet again consoled. “Shaoye’s health has always been weak. Year in and year out, he has been rehabilitating in the mountain villa, therefore all kinds of precious medicines are more or less prepared. Maybe there is still a means.”

“What kind of means?”

“Does laoye still remember what happened during last year’s Mid-Autumn? Someone from Nanman, who had dealt business with the Shen family, gave a tribute of two pills that were said to be capable of relieving all the world’s strangest poisons?”

“I remember, I remember. I saved that medicine. ...Does it really work?”

“Laoshen does not know either, I am just told that the Nanman wetlands contain poisonous insects and wild beasts in numbers. This pill might really have miraculous effects, perhaps?”

“Then why have you not fetched it?” Master Shen stood up in a hurry.

“Aye.”

The medication was quickly retrieved, dissolved in warm water, and administered. As he was fed the medicine, Shen Qingxuan’s jaw was clenched tight, his facial muscles rigid, seemingly a hair’s breadth away from death.

The whole room was engulfed in a state of panic, and the air felt heavy.

Night fell, and the servants lit the oil lamps. Light and shadow quivered.

Shen Qingxuan’s bedroom door opened sometimes and closed sometimes, people shuffling out and in.

Yet not one person noticed, in the swaying shadow of the oil lamp, there quietly stood a man.

Black hair flowed loosely down to his waist. He was also dressed in a black robe, standing with both hands behind his back. The lapels of his robe were embroidered with gold thread into simple decorative patterns. Expression ice cold and lips pursed, he was standing there for who knows how long.

Not one person noticed, and even the people who brushed past him did not cast a glance at him. If anyone had seen him, they surely would not turn a blind eye to this man that looked like a demon on earth.

But indeed, not a single person knew his presence.

The night grew late, Master Shen was tired in both body and heart. He wanted to keep vigil by his son’s bedside, but old age ruthlessly shackled his parental affections. It was the end of February, and although spring had begun, the nights were still cold. After a few soft coughs, Master Shen faintly felt his head start to hurt. Under the steward’s encouragement, although he was loath to leave, he still went to a room warmed by charcoal fire and lay down on the bed.

In the bedroom, there were only the steward and three servants left still looking after Shen Qingxuan.

After another two double-hours passed, Shen Qingxuan, whose breathing had been shallow, gradually gained a steadier and stronger breathing sound. In the shadows, the unmoved, standing man slightly raised his eyes. His eyes showed a spark of surprise; he did not believe this world had an antidote that could actually detoxify his venom.

As expected, when he concentrated a bit to take a closer look at the gaunt and frail man lying on the bed, it dawned on him: this is the so-called rally before death.

Those antidote drugs, at most, only delayed a few threads of time. Antidote? Pure delusion.

Shen Qingxuan struggled to open his eyes. His heavy eyelids felt like they weighed a ton, no matter how he tried, he could not open them.

However, the servant girl waiting by him saw his movements, and joyfully shouted: “Shaoye, shaoye!"

Her noise had a rash joy, and woke up the small courtyard and mountain forest that just fell asleep.

Very quickly, Master Shen came over dressed in a cloak

and did not even stop to put on his socks and shoes. He frantically ran, and yelled: “Xuan’er, Xuan’er...Have you awakened, Xuan’er? Dad is worried sick...” 

Perhaps the calls of his family gave Shen Qingxuan strength, his quivering eyelids worked to open, and finally they budged. His eyes were slack, taking a moment to focus until the depths of his eyes had some liveliness. 

Shen Qingxuan slightly opened his mouth to speak, yet could not make a sound.

But everyone knew he said, “Dad.”

“Ah, dad is here...” the old man immediately burst into tears. Master Shen did not even care to consider how many years he spent with the stance of an elder, he shakingly grabbed his son’s hand, murmuring, “Qingxuan ah, do you feel better? If you are better, then Dad will be so relieved…”

Shen Qingxuan used all his strength, just to barely pull his rigid face into a small smile. Internally, however, he somehow knew he could not escape death this time. His whole body was entrapped in a sense of paralysis with no ability to move. Whenever he breathed, his nostrils filled with a fishy sweet scent; what’s more, in front of his eyes were bursts of pitch-black with intervals of clarity.

The sensations when one is on the brink of death are probably like this.

Actually, there was nothing to dread. For disabled people like him, death was really not as dreadful as living.

Only, he could not bear to leave his parents and younger brother.

These years, his family was the only pillar he had to support him in continuing to seek happiness in life. Everytime he thought about his parent’s pitiful grief after his passing from this world, he could not bear it in his heart.

He thought about his own death, not because he was abandoning and resigning himself to despair. These years in the wheelchair, he actually grew accustomed to this existence of not being able to take care of himself. Burying his childhood dreams of flourishing a whip and riding a horse was not a very challenging task at all.

He thought about his own death because his health was deteriorating year after year.

Before, he could occasionally bask in the sun, call someone to push him, and go for a stroll in the wooded forest.

But in the last two years, he was getting worse. Catch a little draft, and he would be ill for a period, each time more serious than the last. Eventually, it became so bad he could not get out of bed for a month or two.

This winter, he did not go outside. He barely even opened the windows.

He finally recovered, and wanted to bask a bit in the sun, yet he startled a snake that had just ended its winter hibernation and was out to bask in the sun as well.

Thinking of this, Shen Qingxuan could not help but smile, and think to himself that this sunbathing, it seems, whether for himself or the snake, was not comfortable.

He knew in his heart that the snake was just sunning itself on the railing at first, and he was sitting in his chair—man and snake minding their own business. 

They could have lived harmoniously in peace and returned to their respectives homes after sunbathing.

But somehow a soiled piece of leaf just had to fall into the clear tea water. His natural disposition preferred cleanliness, so he, immediately and without another thought, threw out the bowl of hot tea.

At the time, he did not see that snake. Once he realized it was improper, the tea had already been thrown out, and had drenched those shiny black scales with steaming hot water.

The startled snake turned its head around and took a bite out of the hand he did not retract in time.

In truth though, it was more of his own fault. Such hot water, nevermind a snake, even a mere rabbit would be startled enough to retaliate.

It was a very mighty snake. He only caught one glimpse of it, then got distracted by the pain and had to look away. But Shen Qingxuan still remembered that the snake was gleaming black all over; when crouched with its head erect, its neck and abdomen gleamed golden yellow, which was particularly dazzling in the light of the afternoon sun. Later, he wanted to take a closer look, but could not see clearly anymore. He also was not sure if that snake was scalded or not.

It is said these kinds of apodal animals are completely covered with small scales, and probably are not really easily harmed by a cup of hot tea.

In front of his eyes was another moment of extremely dizzying blackness, to the point that even the sound of his father’s voice by his ear was also drifting away. Shen Qingxuan still wanted to listen hard to what his father was saying, but could only hear the beating thunder in his ears. All the disorderly fragmented sentences came through the thundering, yet were still unable to reach his mind. Shen Qingxuan only knew that his father was speaking, but no matter how hard he exerted himself, he could not hear clearly what exactly his father was saying.

Shen Qingxuan knew well enough that his life was at its limit, internally, he was not sure if he was more melancholic or more relieved. He always knew he was a person not long for this world, but the arrival of this scene still caught him off guard.

The concern in his heart made him want to have one last look at this world that had accompanied him for 20 some years. Even if he barely had the strength to breathe, Shen Qingxuan still worked hard to open his eyes wide—the scattered expression within his eyes was also stubbornly gathered back—to gaze at his family. Focusing for a protracted moment.

His father who was normally healthy and well maintained, appeared old and ragged at this moment. The old steward who had rushed about and busied himself for the Shen family his whole life, the maidservant who had already cried into a mess, all of the familiar people who had been doing their best to take care of him all of these years...his eyes slowly, almost rigidly, moved over everyone’s face, Shen Qingxuan haltingly lifted the corners of his mouth, and showed a shallow smile. As if saying goodbye.

His smile was quite faint, appearing ferocious and crude on his currently three-parts-human-seven-parts-ghost-like face.

Yet, it displayed a profound fondness for and reluctance to let go of living.

Such a despairing fondness, yet it also carried a relief towards death.

Perhaps this smile was too striking for the eyes and too startling for the heart. The cold and still man in the shadows, who had watched this entire scene from beginning to end, raised his eyelids. His pupils, which were as dark as the waters of the deep abyss, rippled from a sudden splash.

[ladydaedra]

The Next Move

Part: 7/?

Pairings: Ulfric x Dragonborn; Brynjolf x OC; Cicero x OC; Ondolemar x OC

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and gore; Skyrim takes on a bit of 'Game of Thrones' feeling; may contain controversial themes

Wordcount: 1886

~~~~~

Ayla walks through the gates of Windhelm, stopping momentarily as she looks around, studying everything in the area. The wind blows through her hair as she notes nothing notably different from the last time she visited months ago.

"This way, ma'am," the soldier says and heads off towards the Palace of Kings. As they walk, Ayla can feel the citizens of Windhelm's gaze on her, whispering that she is the Dragonborn and wondering why she is here. She looks to her left and sees a small crowd, watching her with curious eyes. It is no secret that her victory against Alduin has made her a renowned hero throughout all of Skyrim, making her a legend amongst the people.

She sends them a small smile before looking back at the looming palace ahead of her. She glances back at the city and an idea strikes her. She wants to walk Windhelm's streets, visit with its citizens, get to know them a bit more, "Sir, might you be so kind to let the Jarl know that I might be awhile," she says, stopping in her steps and the soldier turns to stare at her, "I wish to explore the city a bit. If he wishes to speak with me now and if it is as urgent as he says it is, he can find me in the city. Or he can wait until I return to the palace,"

But before the soldier can stop her, Ayla turns on her heel and walks back the way they came as a slight breeze blows. She walks down the steps, cloak flowing behind her as she stops there, glancing to her left and right, trying to decide where to go.

She ends up going to the left, knowing that is where the infamous Grey Quarter is. She wishes to see it for herself again, wondering if there were any improvements to the area housing the Dunmer. She walks down the set of steps leading to where the shops and tavern for the Dunmer and Argonians are located.

She smiles as a passing Argonian couple, who return the smile before turning completely, shocked when they recognize who she is. She can't help but smile to herself when she sees the people ahead of her slowly start recognizing her, "it can't be...the Dragonborn?" a Dunmer woman asks as she watches Ayla walk by, a few children hiding behind her, peering up at the Dragonborn.

Ayla stops and smiles at the woman before her gaze goes to the three children, who immediately retreat to hiding behind their mother's dress, "it's alright," Ayla says, bending down and sending the children a gentle smile, "I won't hurt you, I promise," one by one, the children reveal themselves. The eldest, a girl, gives Ayla a toothy grin as her younger brothers come to a stop beside her, "I'm here to help," Ayla adds, handing each child five septims.

"Ma'am, you didn't..." the mother goes to object as Ayla stands up again.

Ayla shakes her head, "I won't be bothered with the loss of fifteen septims, miss," she explains as the children giggle amongst themselves, eyes glued on the gold in their hands, "like I said, I am here to help in any way possible," the woman smiles at her before looking down at her children.

Ayla continues on her trek through the Grey Quarter, glancing up at the buildings and down at the streets. It's been a while since she has traversed these streets, but from what she remembers, they look better than they did before. The buildings that house the Dunmer and Argonians have received a touch-up, mainly to the structural part to keep them from falling. Random holes in the streets have been fixed, weeds popping out through the cracks have been removed.

Ulfric did keep his word. She was impressed, maybe the thought of losing the Dragonborn and two dragons as an ally was what pushed him. Ayla walks into a large, open area with a giant gate to her left that leads to the docks. To her right is another street leading back to the Palace of Kings.

She goes straight and turns left to walk up a flight of stairs to stop in a small courtyard surrounded by three houses. She takes a sharp left and walks down the street that has a large house to the left. If she remembers correctly, that is Aventus Aretino's house. She remembers Taliyah telling everyone the story of how she came to be a part of the Dark Brotherhood and how this little boy hired her to kill an old woman in Riften.

With a sigh, she continues forward, under the little walkway connecting it to the other half of the house and stops on a bridge, in front of a railing overlooking the Grey Quarter. From up here, it doesn't look as large as it feels down there. But it sure looks pretty cramped.

"When I went to Sovengard to fight Alduin," she starts, knowing that she has company, "I went knowing that I might die trying to defeat him. I...struggled with accepting the fact," she pauses as she watches Aaryah fly in the distance. A black dot in the vast snow-covered landscape surrounding Windhelm, "but as I stood, waiting for Alduin to arrive, I told myself that if it took me dying to save Skyrim from the World Eater, then so be it,"

She turns to look to her left to see Ulfric standing there, gaze on her. She takes a deep breath as she returns to watching Aaryah fly, "I think of it now," she pauses as Aaryah swoops down and lights something on fire before flying off again and coming back for another hit, "I will gladly lay my life down to rid Skyrim of the Thalmor. I would willingly die so I can ensure that my rebellion lives to fight another day," she then looks back at Ulfric as a gust of wind blows around them, "will you do the same?" she questions him.

Ayla studies his face for the few seconds it takes for him to answer. She notes how he is standing tall, gaze hardened as he looks at her, blue eyes scrutinizing her; sizing her up, "gladly," is his response and Ayla turns to look back at the dragon.

"The bear is the symbol of leadership, strength, and courage," she starts, hearing him take a few steps towards her, stopping only when she looks over at him, "that is the banner of Windhelm and your rebellion," she pauses as she turns to her right and starts walking back the way she came, stopping only to make sure he is following, "you are the Jarl of Windhelm and right now, during this war, they need to feel safe and secure,"

"Are you saying they don't?" Ulfric asks as he walks beside her, glancing down at her as they turn the corner and walk past the gates to the city.

Ayla looks up at him before looking ahead again, "I'm saying that they don't know what is going on," she explains, returning a smile to Torsten Cruel-Sea, "they don't know how you are faring against the Empire and from simple rumor, they don't know about the alliance,"

"I don't want to drag them into this war,"

"A good excuse to keep the alliance a secret, but it doesn't assure them that they are safe," Ayla replies as they walk through the market. Ayla glances over at the group of people shopping and sees a few of them giving her and Ulfric confused glances, "if they knew that their Jarl agreed to an alliance with the Dragonborn and her dragons, I am sure they would be more...supportive of this war knowing that they are safe,"

"If I announce the alliance, the odds of both the Thalmor and the Empire finding out is pretty great," he reasons and looks over at the Dragonborn to see her shrug.

"They would have found out regardless when both our soldiers attack one or both of them," Ayla says as they return to the courtyard in front of the Palace of Kings. She turns to him, "now you asked me here to discuss something confidential,"

~

"The Jagged Crown," Galmar says, setting a heavy helmet, no crown, on the table in the war room of Windhelm, "retrieved by a group of Stormcloaks and ripped from the power-hungry hands of the Empire,"

Ayla studies the helmet, head tilted slightly as her index finger rubs her chin, brows furrowed in thought, "this is what you called me here for?" she questions, sparing Ulfric a glance then looking back at the crown, "a spiky helmet?"

Kharjo holds back a laugh while Ulfric sighs, arms crossed in front of his chest, "not just the crown, but the next step in the war," he explains and Ayla looks over at him, raising a single eyebrow and waiting for him to continue, "we plan to attack Windhelm,"

Ayla remains silent for a few moments, looking over at Kharjo, a million thoughts racing through her head. Whiterun. She remembers how Jarl Balgruuf aided her on her mission to stop Alduin. She would prefer not to attack his home, "and why are we attacking Whiterun?" she questions, meeting Ulfric's gaze head-on.

"A week ago I sent a soldier to take my ax to Balgruuf," he explains with a deep breath, "he sent the soldier back with the ax, meaning he has sided with the Empire," Ayla looks back at the crown, her thumbnail now running across her lower lip.

"From what I understand, Balgruuf has remained uninvolved with the war by not choosing a side," she starts, glancing at both Ulfric and Galmar, "why now? And why the Empire?"

Galmar chuckles, "that is a question you will have to ask him yourself,"

"Myself?"

"Whiterun will not be easy to take," Ulfric states, "with the whole Whiterun guard plus Imperial forces as well as Thalmor protecting the city, I doubt my army alone will make a big difference,"

"You need my army and dragons," Ayla says softly, mainly to herself.

"Precisely," Ulfric replies, his hard gaze on her, "without your help, we will not be able to take Whiterun,"

"It'll be the perfect time to reveal the alliance," Kharjo points out and Ayla can practically hear the smirk in his voice, "the Stormcloaks charging in to take Whiterun out of the Imperials grasp with the Dragonborn and her dragons fighting alongside them. Sounds like something out of a storybook,"

"So, Dragonborn, what is it?" Galmar asks and Ayla stares at the crown as she debates the risk level of this attack. No doubt there will be casualties, as there always is in war. But this will bring them one step closer to the fall of the Empire in Skyrim and closer to chasing the Thalmor out as well, tail between their legs.

Ayla smiles, looking up to meet Ulfric's gaze, "alright, I'm in. On one condition," she replies and waits a few seconds, "Jarl Bulgruuf isn't killed. He helped me on my quest to stop Alduin and I owe him big for that,"

She watches as Ulfric shares a glance at Galmar and the two nod, "deal," and with that, the war just started.

[kuriboo]

Hugsaku 2021

Day 3 - Things You Said in a Dream | Three Things | Favorite Food | “Oh no I seem to have fallen on top of you and now am too lazy to move. What a tragedy.”

For Hugsaku 2021, I’ve been writing a continuous story with the prompts from each day. The general story is: Yusaku ends up in Heartland with no idea how he got there and Yuma decides try to help Yusaku get home. If you’d like to read the story so far, it’s available in either my previous posts or on ao3. I’ll link to the story on ao3 in the notes.

I ended up using four different prompts for this part, which was more than I expected I’d be using when I first started writing it. I don’t think I ever used this many prompts in future parts, but it ended up working very well for this one. I hpoe you enjoy!

--

Yusaku woke up screaming.

When his eyes were closed, all he could see was a completely white room. All he could remember was the duels he was constantly forced to go through, all he could feel was desperation, the pain and punishment that came with losing. He couldn’t breathe. Now he was awake and he didn’t recognize anything in the room around him. That only made him feel worse. Where was he? He couldn’t calm down, he couldn’t breathe.

A face floated in front of his. He didn’t recognize it. The face glowed white, with different colored eyes. “Is he sick again?” the face asked. “He doesn’t look good.”

Yusaku screamed again and scooted back on the floor, away from the stranger. This wasn’t home. Why wasn’t he home?

“What’s going on?” A different voice, off to the side. Another face entered Yusaku’s field of vision. He recognized this one: Yuma. Yuma looked towards the stranger.

“He woke up and kept screaming,” the stranger reported. “He did say he gets nightmares. For a second, though, it appeared he was looking directly at me, as if he could see me. Then he screamed again.”

“That’s silly, no one else can see you,” Yuma muttered. He looked at Yusaku. “It must have been a nightmare? But, um, I don’t know what to do?” His voice got louder . “I should do something, right??”

Yusaku’s heart was racing. Breathing was difficult. He felt like Yuma and the stranger were several rooms away. But slowly, his mind started working again. This was Yuma’s room. Yuma was letting him stay here. He’d been dreaming before. The incident was in the past. He had to pull himself out of it.

“Three reasons,” Yusaku managed to get out, “to keep going.” He looked down at his hands. Shakily, he held up a finger. “We need to save Kolter’s brother. We have to help him.” Another. “Ai and Kolter don’t know where I am.” Another. “There’s still a chance… I can get back to Den City.” With each reason, he calmed down a little bit. Breathing got easier. The world around him felt more real. He forced himself to take deep breaths. He took in the scene around him.

Yuma was crouched on the floor next to him. That stranger Yusaku had seen before was real, apparently, and still there. The floating was real, too, so apparently whoever this was could just float in the air, which was weird. Yusaku could feel how sweaty he was. The blankets and the sleeping bag he must’ve thrown off himself in his sleep, because he didn’t feel any different now than he had before he backed away. No difference in the amount of weight on him or how warm he was. It was dark, probably the middle of the night. Yuma looked tired, but still concerned. Yusaku felt bad for waking him.

Yusaku rubbed the back of his neck, feeling itchy. “It’s nothing,” he told Yuma. “Just a nightmare. I get them all the time. Don’t worry about it.”

“Of course I’m worried about it!” Yuma shot back. “‘Just’ a nightmare? You don’t look good at all, for a moment you looked more like a cornered wild animal or something than someone who just woke up. You looked scared. You shouldn’t have to feel scared.”

“Doesn’t matter if I should or not. It’s just the way it is.” Yusaku shrugged. Whatever was ideal meant nothing compared to reality. “I’m probably just not used to waking up in your room. This happened multiple times after I moved to my apartment. It’s nothing.”

“It’s something all right.” Yuma sighed. “What kind of nightmares are you even getting that you’re reacting this badly to them?”

“Real world experience. From the past.”

“What happened?”

Yusaku looked away. As a rule, he didn’t talk to anyone about the Lost Incident besides people that were involved and understood, like Kolter, or Ai. Yusaku didn’t open up to people. He generally avoided interacting with people at all. Nobody uninvolved could really understand. Plus, now he had his identity as Playmaker to worry about. Opening up to people, connecting himself to the Lost Incident, it ran the risk of someone figuring out who he was. And Playmaker needed to be anonymous. Playmaker was a criminal. Yusaku couldn’t keep doing what he was doing if the wrong person figured him out, and anyone could be that wrong person.

But here, in Heartland City, the Lost Incident didn’t exist. It never happened. Yusaku didn’t exist, and neither did Playmaker. So discussing the Lost Incident couldn’t possibly get him in trouble here. He looked at Yuma again. Something told him that Yuma might not understand, but he’d at least try. At least, he wouldn’t judge Yusaku badly. Usually opening up backfired for Yusaku, but maybe this time it wouldn’t. 

“I was kidnapped when I was 6.” With those words out, Yusaku couldn’t stop, so he kept going. He didn’t look at Yuma as he explained what happened, but out of the corner of the eye he could see the stranger floating above them. The stranger didn’t seem judgemental, though, they just looked down at him and listened with a curious expression on their face. “After a few months, we were found and rescued,” Yusaku finished. “But I still have nightmares about it 10 years later. I’ve never really been able to move on.”

“That’s awful.” Yuma teared up. “I’m sorry something like that happened. If I was there, I’d…”

“You would have been way too young to do anything about it if you were even alive then,” Yusaku pointed out. 

“Hey, I would have been 1!!” Yuma puffed out his cheeks. “Who cares how old I was, I would’ve done something no matter what! Age means nothing if I’m feeling the flow.”

“Whatever.” Yusaku rolled his eyes. “What’s done is done. It doesn’t matter either way.”

“Of course it matters,” Yuma protested. “If you have nightmares about it and it still hurts you, then it matters, because you matter.  Well, in this case, there’s only one thing to do.” Yuma collapsed on the floor next to Yusaku.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh no, it looks like I’ve accidentally fallen on top of you, and now I’m too lazy to move. Guess I’m stuck here all night. Maybe you’ll sleep better if I’m here next to you.”

Yuma wrapped his arms around Yusaku in a hug, further cementing the fact that he was really going to stay there all night.

Yusaku sighed. He wasn’t going to be able to push Yuma away from him, and even if he did he knew by now that Yuma would just come back. He might as well live with it.

Still, something was bothering him. He pointed up at the stranger above them. “Do you know who that is?”

Yuma looked from Yusaku, to the stranger, then back to Yusaku, then to the stranger again. “Wait, you can see Astral??”

“Most peculiar.” The stranger-- Astral-- brought a hand up to his chin. “No humans besides Yuma have been able to see me so far. Have you been able to see me the whole time, or is now the first time?”

“I saw you when I woke up. Not before then.”

“I wonder what prompted this change?” Astral asked. “I’ve spent more time around Yuma’s other friends than you, but they still cannot see me. Maybe there’s something special about you.”

It seemed like Astral wasn’t an imaginary friend after all. Yusaku didn’t appreciate the comment about Yuma being his friend, but he was too tired to point it out or to think about why he could suddenly see Astral when he couldn’t before. All he could do was fall back asleep, pulled back towards it by the extra warmth Yuma’s arms provided him.

--

Yusaku woke up to the smell of something burning. He checked the time: it was fairly early in the day. Who was burning something this early? He looked around the room. Astral and Yuma weren’t here, so it was entirely possible that Yuma was the culprit. Figuring he better go check on him, Yusaku got up and followed the smell to its source in the kitchen.

He found Yuma in the house’s kitchen, perched over a pot on the stove. In a panic, he tried to grab it off the stove before yelping from pain. Yusaku sighed. If something had been cooking in the pot, then clearly it was hot and not to be touched with bare hands. Only a fool would do something like that.

Astral floated above Yuma, watching his work. “Interesting. Observation: contact with metal can sometimes cause pain to humans.”

“It’s because it’s hot,” Yusaku clarified. He walked across the kitchen to close the distance between himself and Yuma and Astral. “If you touch something really hot, it burns you.” Yusaku stared at Yuma. “What’s going on?”

“Oh. Uh.” Yuma blew on the part of his hand that touched the pot. “It’s kind of a complicated story.”

“I have time.” 

“Well… You were talking in your sleep. About hot dogs?? It sounded kind of like you liked them, or at least, that’s what Astral thought. So I thought maybe if I made some hot dogs it would cheer you up? I mean, you had a bad nightmare last night, and being stranded in some other world has to be stressful for you. You know? But I kind of accidentally burned them…” Yuma laughed nervously. “So much for that, huh?”

“You never cooked hot dogs for me, Yuma.”

“You can’t eat human food, Astral! We already tried!”

Talking in his sleep? As far as Yusaku was aware, he didn’t talk in his sleep much. Maybe being in Heartland City was causing something weird to happen to him. Maybe that was why he could see Astral now. But he had been dreaming. It had been a nicer dream for once. He was visiting Kolter at Cafe Nom, like none of this ever happened. It was...nice, actually. He missed that more than he’d think he would. And Kolter did give him a hot dog in his dream…

Yusaku spent more time around Kolter than he did anyone else. He included school in that as well, since Yusaku skipped classes occasionally and Kolter and Yusaku pulled more all-nighters together than anyone else probably should. And now, Kolter wouldn’t let Yusaku pay for hot dogs and coffee anymore (though he did try to limit the amount of coffee Yusaku drank). He pretended to keep some sort of running tab for Yusaku while refusing to let him pay any amount of it off. And Yusaku only started eating hot dogs in the first place to have a reason to be at Cafe Nom that was actually legal, but by now they’d grown to be his favorite food. Yusaku did tend to stick to eating cheaper food anyway. Yet, hot dogs were still the winner. Some days he barely ate anything else.

Yusaku stared at the pot of burnt hot dogs. All burnt food smelled bad, and hot dogs were no exception. They weren’t going to be edible. It was a disaster on all accounts. But Yuma had done it thinking of him. Yuma’d gone out of his way to do something he wasn’t asked to do for him, with nothing for Yuma himself to gain from it. Yusaku didn’t know how to respond to that. Friends did this kind of thing for each other, right? Yusaku was rarely on the receiving end of something like this, and never on the giving end. That required having friends at all.

“Thank you,” Yusaku managed. Hopefully that was good enough.

“For what?” Yuma sounded confused. “For burning your hot dogs? That’s a weird thing to thank someone for. What, do they eat burnt hot dogs where you’re from?”

“No.”

“Then what are you thanking me for?”

Yusaku sighed. “Nevermind.”

“I believe that Yusaku was actually thanking you for the sentiment rather than the hot dogs themselves, Yuma,” Astral explained.

“I didn’t send anyone mints,” Yuma said.

“Nevermind.” Astral sighed.

--

Yusaku dreamed again the next night. It wasn’t a nightmare. It wasn’t a dream of what he missed.

Earlier that day, Yuma had helped Yusaku look for a way home after school. It was difficult without having idea how Yusaku arrived in this world in the first place. The only idea they could think of was based on Astral being from another world as well. Apparently, as Yuma and Astral gathered Number cards, Astral began to regain memories as well. (Interesting, that Yusaku and Astral had both lost memories upon arriving in his world.) Astral suggested that the key might be within his lost memories. So, Yusaku ended up actually helping Yuma and Astral look for Numbers. They had no luck that day, though.

The dream Yusaku had wasn’t far off. He was trying to help Yuma deal with Numbers. Dreams could be nonsensical, however, and Yusaku’s dream often didn’t make sense. Sometimes, rather than Heartland City, he found himself in Den City, Link Vrains, and other places Yusaku couldn’t remember ever seeing before. 

No matter where they were, Yuma kept dragging Yusaku along with him in his search. They seemed to be in a rush. But even though they never found anything before Yusaku woke up, Yusaku never felt too annoyed about the whole situation.

[allthebooksandcrannies]

Just some thoughts on maturity...

This is going to get long so there’ll be more under the cut.

I saw a post the other day about how it can be tempting particularly for the older crowd on this website to judge or condescend those who seem to struggle with expressing or holding truly complex ideas and instead getting stuck in a binary mentality of good vs bad or us vs them. then the post went on to point out that its not really their fault considering that a major proportion of tumblr users are under 25 (according to this report, 39% of users are under 25 and 66% are under 35) and devopmentally this is really where we see the ability to hold complex feelings and accept the existence of multiple realities really start to develop and it was kind of an epiphany for me. 

I don’t want to come across as condescending, after all, i’m part of that 39% myself and can admit that i’m still working on this skillset. But part of emotional maturity is being able to accept and understand that the world is a complicated or gray place and morality is, if not exactly relative, at least exists on a continuum (what is acceptable and even praise-worthy in one culture might be taboo or reprehensible in another [which is why we need to avoid judging past or foreign cultures by our own cultural norms/morals]).  

Just as it is possible to do the wrong thing for the right reasons or the right thing for the wrong reasons and it be both right and wrong at the same time, there can be multiple truths and “realities” at the same time without either being more or less correct than the other. I know that might sound confusing or convoluted but let me explain. You’ve probably heard the expression that there are three truths: your truth, my truth, and the actual truth is somewhere in the middle. I agree with this to an extent. People can look at the same experience and come up with radically different narratives to explain what happened to themselves or others and generally they are both a little biased because the brain naturally works from an egocentric point of view (this isn’t necessarily the same thing as a selfish/arrogant pov, but that we tend to view things based on their relationships to ourselves even if they aren’t actually connected to us, ie a child that sees that their parent is upset about something that happened during their day but assumes that it is somehow their own fault, which gets into some theory of mind stuff that is honestly a whole other post and not really the point). 

An example from my own life, is a common argument that my mother and i rehash a lot lately. Just going off of the things actually said aloud (which is only ever half the argument), my mom likes to ask for constant progress reports on things like my thesis or grad school applications or my love life and then proceeds to tell me what she thinks i should do. Sometimes i humor her and let it go, but other times i try to explain that talking about the things that i’m anxious about actually makes my anxiety related procrastination worse and that i would appreciate it if she wouldn’t ask as often. Those are the main events that lead up to it. 

From what i can tell, she views her questions as good parenting. She has told me before that she felt hurt as a kid by how uninvolved her parents were in her own adolescence/early adulthood and doesn’t want to make same mistakes.  She then takes my request not to ask as a rejection of her parenting, and usually responds by telling me that i should stop being bothered because she’s just trying to help and i’ll feel better if i just do what she’s suggesting (and then proceeds to say “see, aren’t you glad you have a mom who pushes you to do these things” once i finish a project.)

there really is no winning because my mother has never really learned that the things you do to be helpful can still be harmful. in her mind, she can’t be in the wrong because that would make her a bad mom and she can’t be a bad mom because she loves us. sure, she might be able to accept this idea in fiction or in the abstract, but isn’t able to put it into practice because that is a learned skill that she has never known to try to learn. i think a lot of people end up stuck there. tbh its still my first instinct a lot of the time and its only through a lot of courses geared towards developing critical thinking and empathy, a lot of fiction meta analysis, and reading about a million fanfics that each interpret the same canon event differently based on the author’s personal experiences coloring what they viewed as important.

my first instinct is to view my mother’s refusal to change her behavior as a disrespect/invalidation of my feelings. I feel guilty because i know that i should do the things she’s suggesting but that is never the issue, the issue is that i have trouble actually making myself do it. For a long time that egocentric worldview (and that instinct kids have to implicitly trust hteir gaurdians) told me that both the executive dsyfunction and the fighting were my fault. It felt like she was saying that if i was better or smarter or more mature surely i would be able to do this on my own. it felt like she was saying that if i was a better daughter i wouldn’t hurt her feelings like this. 

But i’ve been learning that neither one of us were truly correct and we both were at the same time. Those feelings and concerns were real to us, even if we were both projecting our own insecurities onto the other person. Those feelings were valid and understandable but (and this is incredibly important) that did not give either one of us a free pass on how we acted on those insecurities.  It didn’t make us bad people but it did mean that we were engaging in toxic behavior that just hurt both of us.

So, the question becomes “what do i do with that?” Now that i know we were both responding from a place of trauma and insecurity in the past, how do we change how we act in the future? I think we have to get to a point where we can look at a situation and truly try to understand the internal dialogue that the other side is experiencing in the moment (why they feel the way they feel, do we really have evidence that they feel what we think they feel or are we projecting, are they acting well-intentioned/malicious or are they even considering the ramifications at all/do they have any conscious intentions) and come to a point where we can truly empathize with them, not sympathize with them, not feel sorry for them, but truly see it from their side and understand where they are coming from. we should remember that we’re all a little broken. and we should be gracious and merciful. 

That doesn’t mean we have to be happy about it. We don’t even need to think that they have a good point or that their pov is reasonable or forgivable (sometimes it just isn’t, and its important to understand that too). But it means not dehumanizing the enemy or oversimplifying their position into the general “bad guy” role. You can forgive without absolving and you can understand and show compassion without forgiving or accepting.

You need to set boundaries, and you need to accept that at the end of the day the way that they respond is not on you, not if you’ve acted based on that understanding we talked about earlier and treated them with at least the bare amount of dignity we are all entitled to as human beings. 

Returning to the previous example, with my mother, i now make a point when we disagree of first summarizing and acknowledging the validity of what i understand her intent to be, making it clear that i appreciate that she cares and is trying to be helpful. Then i explain my point of view not as what she makes me feel (because that would come across as judgement that would prompt natural, though incredibly unhelpful defensiveness) but as to how i feel based on my interpretation of the action. I try to make this sound as nonjudgemental as possible without making it anyone’s fault, including my own (which i admit can be easier said than done). Then, i give an alternative suggestion for what would actually be helpful and then it is in her hands. It is up to her whether or not to accept the boundary i have set up.  

In an ideal world she would respect my wishes and alter her behavior. after all, she is supposed to be the adult/parent in this relationship. the emotional labor isn’t supposed to be on the child, at least not the majority of it. 

(side note: this goes for relationships of equals such as significant others, friends, siblings, extended families, and peers. in a healthy relationship of equals you should be splitting the emotional labor equally. if they aren’t trying as hard as you are, you probably need to have a conversation about that and based on the outcome then evaluate how much, if any, of yourself is safe/healthy to continue to pour into the relationship)

But because many people, adults and adolescents alike, have not reached this level of emotional maturity and can’t honestly/completely accept or acknowledge their own flaws and mistakes without their sense of self taking a hit, sometimes its not enough.  My mother, no matter how respectfully i phrase my concerns and request, continues to insist on asking the same nagging questions that trigger a lot of my childhood emotional drama related to being good enough for my parents impossible standards.  I understand why she behaves the way that she does but the fact of the matter is that she still continues to hurt me and no longer has plausible deniability in those situations.  I have the right to be angry, though i do not have the right to lash out or respond in kind. 

I do, however, have the right and the responsibility to myself to do what i can to protect myself from further harm. I still want a positive relationship with my mother, we have plenty of good moments and are very similar people. But i have to be willing and able to remove myself from unsafe situations. Usually that means making it clear that i won’t be answering the questions and not calling or texting with her until the point is made (even if this leaves her surly). 

I had to lower my expectations for her as well. I had a high opinion of my mother because she can be very nurturing and compassionate, especially when we are in agreement. So i thought on some level that if i shared the information and the sources that prompted me to begin my own journey of self-actualization and personal growth in earnest that she would react similarly and understand why i needed her to at least try to do the same. Piece of advice, kiddos, it’s not your job to fix someone, no matter how much you love them nor how much potential they have. It needs to be on them, and they need to make that decision for themselves or it won’t work anyway.

I am trying to accept that unless she makes the decision on her own, she isn’t going to become the mother i want her to be. That’s an incredibly sad thing to realize about someone you love, but its true. If i don’t let that expectation go, our relationship will always be one of disappointment and eventually resentment. Instead, I've had to evaluate what conversations we are and are not able to have in a healthy manner, and just let things be what they will be.  I know my own worth (when my brain chemistry cooperates) and i have a lot of good, healthy relationships in my life that i can turn to when i need something my mom doesn’t know how to give me. 

It’s painful to grow and realize you’re leaving people behind in the process. You can offer them the tools to follow, and give them the support that they need to do so, but only if they want to. 

But i promise you its worth it.  When you accept your own worth with rather than despite your own flaws, when you learn to do the same with others, you realize that there’s a lot more hope for humanity than you thought.  we are capable of so many great things if we are in an environment that fosters our best selves. and even when we are not, we are still capable of growing past our trauma and hurt so that we don’t have to continue the cycle of pain and misery. We can’t control everyone and everything around us, they still have a measure of personal responsibility to themselves and others that you can’t absolve them from.  But you can be an example to them. You can show them through your own life and actions that things can be better, even if they weren’t aware of how much they need things to improve, or how much they deserve it. You deserve good things but you wait for someone to solve it for you. You have to fight for yourself and struggle against falling into the trap of the familiar. It is going to be scary, it is going to be confusing. there will be times when you don’t trust your own interpretations of your emotions and perceptions (especially if you weren’t taught to do so as a kid, its not your fault, but what happens next is up to you). When those times come you’re going to want to have good friends or mentors at your side or as a source of hope that things will be better and that there are people who can and will offer you the help you need along the way. No one can do it alone, and you don’t have to.  For me, my college roommates were my first clue that maybe things weren’t as good with my mother as i assumed, they fostered my confidence and my self-worth and i was constantly afraid i was going to scare them away but they had my back.  I didn’t think i deserved to be happy, i didn’t think i was worthy for anything outside what i could do or give for others and they showed me that i was worthy just as i was.  it was creators like @goldkirk and @maychorian and @cdelphiki and @sohotthateveryonedied that taught me through their works what healthy family relationships (particularly between parent and child) should look like, what unhealthy relationships can do to you, and that families of choice are just as valuable as those of law or blood. And @goldkirk especially, i want you to know that reading your blog, be it the ups, or the downs, your knowledge of things like child development and mental health, and even the things that you find helpful and reblog have meant so much to me.  I have a lot in common with your Tim and with you and you have given me so much hope and confirmation and affirmation that i’m not alone in my experiences and that i deserve to be happy, even if the road isn’t a straight line. and lately i have to say thank you to @mahpotatoequeen for just straight up deciding to be my new mom this summer. I don’t have the words for how much i appreciate you and how much it meant to me that in one of the worst crisis of my life that there was someone who saw the things i had posted just to get out of my system, things i had never said to anyone before and that came from a really broken and painful place, and reached out and stuck around rather than just continuing to scroll and go about their day.

But I digress. My point is that there are people out there that you can learn from and there are people out there who will care. And maybe we all owe it to each other to strive to become the healthiest version of ourselves, so that maybe someday we can be that for someone else.  just a thought.

(I can’t find the original post i referenced earlier but if someone knows what i’m talking about plz send me the link so i can give credit where credit is due)

[jonsafan-blog]

Dany Knows She’s Being Manipulated

She joked about it to Sansa, but after Jon’s reveal, I think she fears an actual coup against her rule.

Daenerys only arrived in the North to fight Jon’s War and she uses that terminology specifically to outline her intentions to Sansa. Without Jon, the North loses her support.

In that scene, she isn’t just trying to figure out why Sansa doesn’t like her, but to remind her why it ultimately doesn’t matter that Sansa’s doesn’t like her.

It’s actually an interesting gambit because Jon is effectively useless to the Northern lords because of his actions, making Sansa the true political leader. Daenerys isn’t just trying to peck at Sansa’s jealousy, she's trying to secure her hold over the North when it became clear Jon had no true political leadership left.

Daenerys is basically telling Sansa she doesn’t recognize Sansa’s leadership. That’s also why she was sitting between Sansa and Jon at the beginning of the episode because she has to come between Sansa and Jon in order to effectively control the situation. The Sansa regency must end.

She tries to use the idea that Jon is all that is tying her to the battle against the dead, but she realizes by the end of the episode that she has put herself in an awful position:

Daenerys does not have political strength in the North. Although I never believed she was going to execute Jaime, she did want to publically humiliate him and receive acknowledgment of the wrongs against her family and what she suffered as a child in exile. Instead, she was completely denied that.

But it’s the way that she was denied that mattered here.

Jon deferred to Sansa’s judgment and Sansa ultimately tried Jaime in the court of public opinion and deemed Daenerys’s suffering unworthy of consideration. That stings. If GRRM ever finishes writing the books, we will likely see something identical or similar to this and it is going to hurt the readers too because we know that Daenerys truly did suffer as a child.

Even worse is that Daenerys was later reminded she shouldn’t have trusted Cersei.

Now one thing to remember is that Daenerys had every reason to give Cersei the temporary benefit of the doubt. While Jaime is the only living person who is directly tied to her family’s suffering present, Cersei was just an uninvolved girl during the war. Tyrion believed that Cersei would not act against Cersei, and Daenerys chose to believe her hand because Tyrion previously despised Cersei.

But that turned out not to be the case, and every Northerner knew the truth about Cersei even if Tyrion chose to ignore it out of love for family. Sansa even jabbed Daenerys about it.

This means Daenerys feels that not only is she undermined by Northerners, but also by her own court.

And Theon? He publically snubbed Daenerys in favor of Sansa. Daenerys gave his sister a kingdom in Yara’s name, but Theon is willing to die for the Lady of Winterfell and the Starks. Daenerys’s own allies are willing to die for a different ruler.

At this point, Daenerys likely feels like a figurehead and merely a tool for the Northerners and Westeros to survive against the undead.

She really emotes privately a lot this episode. She is in a lot of pain, and Jon does nothing to make her feel better.

Daenerys told Sansa that she only went North because of Jon, but now it’s obvious that wasn’t just rhetoric to keep the North in line, but something she sincerely feels. Daenerys had slowly fallen in love with Jon, and when he encountered trouble north of the wall, she went to save him.

She was devastated when she believed he had died.

But when he returned, Jon realized that Daenerys really did love him and would sacrifice a lot for his cause if he just gave himself to her.

We are meant to also realize as Sansa did that Daenerys is only in Winterfell for Jon. Knowing that, future actions she takes in the Dance of Dragons will make a lot of sense in context. It will also appear justified.

That’s the thing about the Dark Daenerys theory - yes, Daenerys will seem like the Mad Queen from the perspective of Westeros, but she’s not actually insane.

Cersei isn’t insane. What she did makes sense in the past - you don’t really think the Tyrells would have accepted Cersei as dowager queen? They helped orchestrate Renly’s bid for the throne and were doing even before the big bastardry reveal.

She also grew up under the watchful eye of a powerful father who cared a lot about the family’s pride. But Cersei misunderstood that power is power instead of people are power and made all the wrong decisions that ultimately led to her downfall.

Ramsay and Joffrey were insane, but Daenerys and Cersei are not actually insane. They have reasonable motives and were pushed over the edge by circumstances. That doesn’t excuse them, but it does mean they aren’t actually crazy even if they appear that way. Ramsay and Joffrey were too far gone. Daenerys and Cersei are not, but they will ultimately not redeem themselves in the way we would like them to because they will not make important decisions.

We don’t know for certain if Jon loves Daenerys or not, but it is clear that he is using her - much in the same way as he did with Ygritte.

The problem is that Daenerys may no longer believe Jon loves her.

Daenerys suffered by herself this episode and the man she loved did nothing to help console her. In the last episode, Daenerys wanted Jon to keep her warm, but it’s clear Jon isn’t really doing much to make her feel better since he succeeded in getting her North.

This actually suggests he doesn’t love her like he did Ygritte, but that doesn’t mean he finds her unlikable or that he isn’t trying to have a romantic relationship. He’s just bad at it because his motives weren’t a romance so it’s not as natural for him.

Jon made a political match. If Cersei had been able to fight the undead, he would have made a match with her instead.

But the moment Daenerys realizes she has been played by Jon is in the crypts - not before. He tells her that he is the legitimate heir to the Iron Throne.

I don’t think she believes its true. But even if it was, the point is that to Daenerys it appears as if her jab to Sansa is actually reality: Jon tricked her into coming North to fight his war.

Daenerys can’t just pack up and leave.

Jonsa fans often joke that she would do that, but if Daenerys attempted to do that, she would never win the Iron Throne. She also truly likes her friends. As self-interested as Daenerys can be, she still has genuine relationships with other people, such as Jorah, Missandei, and Greyworm.

All of Daenerys’s forces but Yara are in the North and are going to be at the mercy of the Night King. They now must live, fight, and die alongside the Northerners whether they want to or not. It’s too late to leave by this point... even before the horns were blown.

Jon stole her armies for his war, and now with his supposed claims to the Iron Throne, Daenerys doesn’t have him personally either.

Daenerys believes Sansa is jealous about her relationship with Jon. She is physically separating the two of them when she can at the start of the episode. But as it turns out, Jon has a way to not only co-opt her armies but her claim on the Iron Throne.

Think about it: the only reason Jon is mistrusted by the North is that he gave away his crown. Now he has a new crown... Daenerys’s crown. Daenerys doesn’t have the Iron Throne and styles herself Queen. What’s stopping Jon from calling himself King?

Let’s not even get started on the fact she let him ride a dragon - an equal weapon against her.

It doesn’t matter if he’s not actually a Targaryen. She’s likely thinking he can just say he is and take the throne by force and people will accept it... because has everything he needs to do so.

He never abandoned the North. He never abandoned the Starks.

Jon never abandoned the Lady of Winterfell for the Dragon Queen.

Daenerys believes she has been betrayed by Jon. That changes how she is going to act the rest of the season.

[daesungindistress]

I had a question, I’m sorry for making another one of these Seungri ‘asks’ but you’re one of the only Vips on here who are willingly answering questions and have the actual knowledge on Seungri. None other vips are answering or they delete the asks and don’t want to deal with it. I’m getting confused was he in the Molka chats? I’m seeing articles and posts that he was never in them with proof. I know he never sexually assaulted anyone or drugged anyone. But the molka chats??

I’ll answer this ask, but let me just say I am so sick and tired of Seungri’s remaining fans beating this dead horse like their lives depend on it.

We’re done with Seungri. We’ve moved on. We’ve seen all we needed to see and we’re past the point of entertaining their excuses and apologies on his behalf. They are massively wasting their time on a retired guy. And after months of embattlement with fans and antis alike, I’m tired of wasting my time on him too.

“Seungri wasn’t in the molka chats.” Any time you hear this, be on your guard. His fans always start with that – and it’s all downhill from there. Because the molka chat defense is just a lead-in for their long list of reasons why Seungri is nothing more than a poor hapless victim in this great big mess. They won’t stop until you agree that he was 100% unaware and completely uninvolved in his friends’ illegal activities and committed none of his own. And nothing could be further from the truth.

To answer your question: Seungri was in a chat in which at least one molka video was shared along with a few photos. There is no getting around this. He saw it. He replied to it. He was there.

Seungri stans: “Well, we don’t know if he watched the video.” We know he watched the video because he recognized the man in it and identified him by name. He also laughed after each comment (“ㅋㅋㅋ”).

Seungri stans: “Well, maybe he didn’t know it was molka.” The woman in the video was described as intoxicated and unaware of what was happening. You’re welcome to question the contents of the video if you like, but after all that we’ve learned about these guys and the atrocities they’ve committed, I don’t feel that we’re in any position to doubt the validity of the video’s description. We haven’t seen it. Investigators have, and they’ve declared it molka and have pressed charges accordingly.

Further, by his own admission Seungri has revealed that he knew about his friends’ illicit hobbies. Not just Jung JoonYoung but “everyone”. So I think it’s safe to say he was well aware of at least that aspect of what he was seeing. In his March 2019 Chosun interview, which is the only time he has ever addressed the molka issue btw, he claimed that he told them to stop… because they might get in trouble. However, there is no written record of him doing this, so whether or not you choose to believe it, that’s up to you. And even if true, I take issue with his method of persuasion. “Don’t do it because you might get caught”? How about, “Hey man, don’t do that because it’s… gosh, I don’t know… hurtful and wrong”? Seems to say something about his priorities, doesn’t it.

Do also keep in mind that Seungri has never once acknowledged or issued any statement of sympathy or remorse for the victims in all of this. Combing through all his statements to date, you can see that he’s apologized to the public, the people of Korea, his fans, his former agency YG, his former bandmates… but never the women directly affected by his and his friends’ actions. Nothing, not even on his friends’ behalf.

The statement “Seungri wasn’t in the molka chats” is an interesting one because it manages to be both true and false at the same time. A half-truth, if you will. Like Daesung said to Seungri in Seungri’s episode of I Live Alone: “You tell neither truths nor lies.”

It all comes down to how you define things. What exactly are “the molka chats”? First, keep in mind that the chats recovered all came from the phone of Jung Joon Young, who I’ll refer to from here on out as JJY. Of these chats that were released to the public, the majority were one-on-one conversations between JJY and one other, though occasionally there were several people involved. Most of the molka was shared within these chats. These are what Seungri fans call “the molka chats”. As far as we can tell, Seungri was not in these chats.

The chat Seungri was in is a little something his fans like to call “the business chat.” Here’s the catch: as I stated earlier, there was molka shared in the business chat. There is no denying that Seungri watched it and, judging by his reply, didn’t appear bothered by it. This is why insisting that he “wasn’t in the molka chats” is misleading. No matter what you choose to call it, molka chat or business chat, he was in a chat in which molka was shared and acknowledged it and said nothing against it, end of story.

Fun fact: the “business chat” was an eight-member chat of which Seungri is said to have been the admin. He advised the members of that chat to exit every few months so that the chat and all of its contents would disappear. The only reason it wasn’t entirely lost to time is because JJY didn’t do as he was told and never left the chat, or any others for that matter… and when his cell phone was wiped clean in late 2016, the chats were saved and stored… until now. Recently, on July 16, five members of that big group chat stood trial on charges of filming and distributing illegal footage (molka) and aggravated rape (multiple assailants). Those were his friends – you know, the ones the rest of BB warned him about repeatedly? Seungri is lucky he wasn’t standing trial right alongside them for all the same violations.

…or could it be that he was just better at hiding it?

All I’m saying is Seungri may not have done these monstrous things… but how can we be so sure. “I know he never sexually assaulted anyone or drugged anyone,” you say. I would like to believe that too, and since there is no evidence of it having happened, I do. But when he’s been shown to have helped these awful friends of his cover their tracks for years and was still protecting them up until recently, alerting them to trouble when the news broke and telling them to change their phones before speaking to police…? “I was in the wrong. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with those guys and done those things,” he said in an interview just weeks after he’d helped them evade detection, all but one of them turning in new phones. You know what they say about actions speaking louder than words. They wouldn’t have done that, and he wouldn’t have prompted them to do it, if they’d had nothing to hide.

The level of Seungri’s involvement in this… based on the limited evidence available to us, it’s up to each of us as individuals to decide where we stand. How much involvement is acceptable? Where do we draw the line? At what point does one say, “This much is okay. But this much, no way.” We can come up with a hundred excuses for him, explaining away his behavior, defending years of poor decisions, somehow still trusting him… but in the end we don’t personally know him or his situation. We never will. And I don’t know about you, but after all I’ve witnessed, I’m no longer willing to be on the “hopeful” end of that spectrum of uncertainty. Especially now that he’s gone and taken his leave from the industry.

I have scores of unanswered anonymous asks about the case sitting in my inbox going as far back as February. I wish I could apologize personally to each and every one of you whose messages I haven’t answered. There was one in particular that I received back in March, right around the time the molka issue was brought to light. It was a question that tormented me for days. I didn’t know what to say. I started on a reply, but updates to the case were pouring in daily. Just keeping up was overwhelming enough, and in the end I never got around to answering.

And looking back on it now I’m glad I didn’t. I was still on Seungri’s side at the time. The investigation was just getting started. There was so much more to come.

The ask said:

For anyone wondering why we don’t want him back… there’s your answer.

[lelouche]

Orphans of the Storm: Attachment, Trauma and the Developmental Trajectories of Lelouch and Nunnally in Code Geass

Alternatively titled, Matt Has a Lot of Thoughts About the Lamperouges. 7000+ words of thoughts, to be exact. Some of them might even be semi-intelligent. Admittedly, much of this was written from a hospital office while procrastinating writing patient journals for actual patients who are real humans and not fictional characters. Thank you to my supervisor for not supervising me very much.

I. Introduction

First, let us first briefly set the stage. The story of Code Geass is set in an alternate universe where the social-darwinist, imperialist superpower The Holy Britannian Empire is ruling large parts of the world. Lelouch and Nunnally vi Britannia are born into the royal family as children of 98th Emperor Charles zi Britannia and one of his consorts, Marianne. After their mother is assassinated in a terrorist attack at the Imperial Palace, an incident which leaves Nunnally blind and paralysed from the waist down, the two are sent to Japan as political hostages. The Britannian Empire then invades Japan shortly after they arrive, and they must seek refuge with the Ashfords, a wealthy family with ties to their mother Marianne. Presumed dead by the rest of the royal family, they take on the surname Lamperouge and begin to live in hiding in the now-colonised Japan, renamed Area 11.

These events constitute what is to become Lelouch’s raison d’être through the entire series - finding out who assassinated his mother, and creating a safer, kinder environment for his sister to grow up in. Nunnally is an extremely, and I cannot stress this enough, extremely important figure for Lelouch through the entire series (to the point where it’s kind of a joke in most spin-off material). He’s her main caregiver along with their maid Sayako, and protecting her is his primary goal - often at the expense of his own safety, his friends’ safety, and/or massive collateral damage. In this essay, I will analyse their relationship with their parents and each other through the lens of attachment theory, and discuss how these dynamics shape their developmental trajectories as they grow up. I will focus on two domains of development in particular: (1) emotional regulation and (2) identity. Based on this analysis, I’ll make the argument that Nunnally, despite being the one experiencing the most trauma, ended up more well-adjusted than Lelouch. Furthermore, although the series places much emphasis on how Lelouch is the one protecting Nunnally, he is actually more dependent on his sister than she is on him. I will also discuss how these central themes tie into Lelouch’s goals and political ideology.

II. Ode to My Family: The Fundamentals of Attachment Theory

Attachment theory is a psychological theory originating from the work of John Bowlby, concerning the bond between caregivers and their children. Put simply, Bowlby proposed that children are biologically predisposed to form deep, lasting bonds with their caregivers, and this bond has an important influence on subsequent development. In the attachment relationship, the caregiver functions as both a secure base from which to explore (for example, a child feeling safe when playing knowing a parent is nearby), and safe haven to turn to for emotional support (if they get scared or hurt when playing). Caregivers, on their end, facilitate secure attachment through moderate and appropriate stimulation of the child, warmth, mutually responsive interactions, and other behaviours that promote ‘connectedness’. Especially interesting is a trait called mind-mindedness, which can be described as a caregivers ability to conceptualise their child as an independent person, understand their mental/emotional state and respond appropriately. Important to note about attachment bonds is that they’re not “horizontal” - the caregiver and child aren’t on the same “level” as mutual attachment figures to each other, but the caregiver (as the older, wiser, and more experienced person who is able to provide care) will be a figure that the child can rely on.

A healthy attachment bond has a variety of important functions. It promotes the growth of self-reliance (which promotes independency), increases capacity for emotion regulation, promotes later social competence (such as empathy and mutual relationships), and is important for later identity development. This happens through the acquisition of so-called internal working models, that the child employs through their life. To simplify a bit, think of attachment as the mechanism by which caregivers, through their behaviour, teach children what to expect from the world around them, and what strategies to employ to best cope with it. At its core, it is about seeking security and safety - a form of healthy and adaptive dependence that provides a solid foundation and sense of security from which independence can grow

There are three main classifications of attachment bonds - secure, insecure and disorganised. Securely attached children will develop positive internal working models, where world is a fundamentally safe place, they are loved and worthy of that love. Interactions with the caregivers are frequent, mutual and predictable. For insecure attachment, there are two subcategories: avoidant and ambivalent. Insecure-ambivalent attachment is associated with unpredictable interaction styles, where some interactions between caregiver and child may be warm and mutually responsive, while others are more detached or unpredictable. This leads to frustration and confusion, and an ambivalent relationship. Insecure-avoidant attachment, on the other hand, is typically associated with a non-responsive and uninvolved form of care, or an absent caregiver. In this case, the child may feel rejected and like they cannot rely on anyone. Disorganised attachment simply means there is a lack of any organised form of attachment, but that’s not going to be relevant here so let’s ignore that one.

In summary:

Did you really think you were getting through this one without at least ONE chart? (Note: ambivalent and resistant attachment is the same thing)

Also, important note before moving on from this bit: (1) Attachment is not the be-all end-all for positive/negative developmental outcomes, and (2) I’ll obviously be a bit quicker to assume correlation and draw conclusions than I would in real life, because in my mind applying this stuff to literary analysis vs. applying it to real people are two completely different things. Fiction consists of a series of deliberate choices of storytelling and elements you can easily pick apart and draw lines between (preferably with red string on a corkboard wall, while looking slightly manic), whereas people are, like, more complicated and stuff - nature and nurture and all that.

Now, with attachment theory in mind, let’s have a look at the evil Britannian disaster parents.

III. The Mother We Share: (In)Secure Attachment in the Imperial Palace

Before taking a deep dive into Lelouch and Nunnally’s relationship with one another, it’s essential to discuss their relationships with their parents. Unfortunately for me, there really isn’t much canon material regarding their lives prior to Marianne’s death and the subsequent exile in Japan. However, even with the limited information available, I think it’s fairly safe to say neither Charles nor Marianne deserve a parent-of-the-year award - a point cleverly foreshadowed by me when I referred to them as evil disasters just a few sentences ago.

As for Charles, I hardly need to even make a case that he probably wasn’t a great father. It’s never outright stated in the series, but I’m going to assume they had minimal or no contact with Charles. The main reason behind this is: why would they? He had 108 (!) consorts with whom he had many children, and was busy ruling the largest empire in the world. And as if that wasn’t enough, Lelouch and Nunnally weren’t even particularly high up in in the line of succession and would have been unlikely to ever rule in their lifetime (if it hadn’t been for, er, circumstances). Furthermore, because of his grand plan to fuse humanity into one collective unconscious through the Ragnarök Connection, none of this would matter to him anyway. Additionally, I think his lack of contact with his children is very apparent through the way Lelouch interacts with his father when confronting him about Marianne’s death, which I’ll get back to.

So, we can reasonably conclude Charles was an uninvolved/absent caregiver. However, things get a little more interesting with Marianne.

This isn’t relevant to the topic or anything, I just think it’s neat how they made Lelouch so visually similar to his mother. In addition to physical traits, Marianne’s dress here has a really similar structure to what would later become her sons rebellion outfit of choice. She even has a chess-piece-esque hat to go with. Then again, I suppose the alternative was making him visually similar to Charles, and that wouldn’t make for a lot of good fanservice now would it. Anyway, this image description is too long.

As mentioned, avenging his mother’s death is one of the most significant driving forces for Lelouch throughout the series. Her assassination impacted him greatly, both in and of itself and through the harm it caused Nunnally. Whenever she’s brought up, they both seem to get visibly downhearted, and there’s never any indication they remember her anything but fondly. In picture drama 22.25 (from their time as children in the Imperial Palace), the Britannian siblings find a commemorative plate that belongs to her in Euphie’s room. They start to bicker over it, because Nunnally wants to have it herself, while Lelouch thinks Euphie should keep it because it belongs to her. This all indicates that the royal children admired Marianne, and she was obviously an important figure to them both. Through this idolisation, as well as Lelouch’s obsession with what happened at the Imperial Palace, the narrative seems to want us to assume she was a good parent.

However, there are a few things that call into question how reliable of a narrator Lelouch actually is concerning Marianne. Towards the end of the series, it’s revealed that she is actually very much alive, and completely on board with Charles’ Ragnarök plan - making her one of the series’ main antagonists. During Lelouch’s final confrontation with his parents in C’s World in S2 E21, she is unable (or unwilling) to see how faking her death, traumatising her children, shipping them off to a country the Empire promptly invaded without ever making sure they’re still alive, and then trying to convince them to get on board with her human instrumentality plan is wrong. As her wiki bluntly states: “She only superficially loves her children and will not hesitate to kill them if they get in her way.” Taking this information about her character into account, I consider it more likely that the reason Lelouch and Nunnally idolised Marianne was either (1) because they based their impression largely on her reputation, rather than because she genuinely was a loving mother, or (2) she was a very good actor.

At least she provided some strategies to prepare her children for having to cope with the emotional trauma she was about to inflict on them.

How to make sense of their relationship with Marianne from an attachment perspective? I think this is largely up to interpretation due to lack of pre-series material. Lelouch and Nunnally both seem to like and look up to her, but that does not necessarily indicate secure attachment. I would argue they had an insecure relationship with Marianne, and that argument is based on two things. First, her personality traits and actions (rather than Lelouch and Nunnally’s accounts of her): she blatantly uses her children as pawns for her plan, and doesn’t care all that much that they were suffering as a result. Even though she does argue all her planning was well-intentioned, this act quickly fall apart when Lelouch challenges her. As C.C. tells her, “the only people you love are yourselves”. Calling this sort of behaviour “poor mind-mindedness” or “lack of parental warmth” is an understatement - I simply don’t see a scenario where Marianne would genuinely care.

Secondly, I’d argue you can infer it from Lelouch’s patterns of behaviour as he grows older. Many of his actions, and the themes surrounding him as a character, could be seen as a manifestation of insecure attachment - his attitude towards Nunnally, attitude towards his friends in the student council, his emotionality, and the general theme of a  fragmented identity, to mention some. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Point is, there is good reason to believe Lelouch or Nunnally had any form of secure attachment bond to either of their parents, and this has some implications for their development as the series goes on.

IV. Abandoned by the Empire: Trauma and Parentification

In addition to not having the best relationships with their parents to begin with, Lelouch and Nunnally were then burdened with more baggage after their mother’s death. In Nunnally’s case, her trauma from the incident was primarily physical (blindness and paralysation of her legs), due to her being literally in Marianne’s arms as she was shot. Lelouch was a witness, and escaped without physical injury. Afterwards, while his sister is still in hospital, he takes it upon himself to confront his father about what happened, and accuses him of having allowed, even facilitated, the assassination through purposefully neglecting security measures that day.

While Nunnally was by all means most harmed by the attack, it is here in the aftermath I’d argue Lelouch takes his “main blow” in the parental trauma department. When confronted, Charles gets angry and tells Lelouch that everything in his life has been handed to him by virtue of being a child of the royal family, and thus he’s never truly accomplished anything - he might as well be dead, and therefore has no right to doubt or disobey him. This is an especially cruel statement in the context of the social-darwinist Britannia, where the strength to survive by your own measures is seen as highly important, maybe even the only thing that truly is important. Lelouch then visibly flinches and falls back when Charles stands up, in a manner that seems outright terrified. Keep in mind, all this is happening in front of the Royal Court.

This scene in particular is the main reason I cannot imagine Lelouch or Nunnally having any kind of relationship with Charles prior to the incident, much less a secure and healthy one. You’d think the threshold for a young child to turn and publicly accuse his father of premeditated murder in front of the Britannian Royal Court would be astronomically high, especially if he actually liked and trusted him. Additionally, as I mentioned earlier, one of the most important functions of the caregiver is being a secure base in difficult and unsafe situations, which means that children typically tend to turn towards their parents during situations where they feel scared. Flinching away (so severely he even falls back, with a horrified expression on his face), rather than seeking closure, is highly indicative of insecure attachment/parental neglect.

As if all this wasn’t enough, Lelouch and Nunnally are then separated from all their siblings to be relocated to Japan as political hostages. Again, the pre-series material is pretty thin, but throughout the series there are indications that they had good relationships with some of their siblings. For example, Lelouch recalls playing chess with Schneizel, and possibly had some kind of relationship with Clovis judging by their conversation before Lelouch kills him. Both Lelouch and Nunnally also seem to have been very close with Euphie - in Stage 22.25, they’re playing in her room and don’t want to go to sleep because they’re having so much fun. Lelouch even refers to Euphie as the first girl he ever loved (let’s just... not unpack this one). Point is, not only do they get traumatised by and separated from their parents (whom they already had an insecure relationship with), but they’re also ripped away from their entire network of social support, except for each other. 

This image is so fucking sad. Fuck.

So, when Lelouch and Nunnally arrive in Japan, they’re on their own. And because he is older, and because of Nunnally’s disability, Lelouch ends up taking on most of the responsibility. He carries her up the stairs when they arrive at the shrine, washes their clothing, buys their food, and so on. In addition to these practical tasks, he also tries to comfort his sister emotionally and seems to also feel responsible for her well-being - for example, when discovering their lodgings were small and quite sad-looking, he tries to shield Nunnally from it by lying and telling her it looks like Euphie’s room. When Suzaku first meets Nunnally, Lelouch instantly runs into the room because he heard a noise, and freaks out at Suzaku because he thinks he’s going to harm her. For all intents and purposes, he steps into a caregiver role for his sister - an attachment figure, one might even say. This shift in their dynamic becomes very apparent when comparing their relationship in Japan and onwards, to the aforementioned bickering-over-a-plate incident in Euphie’s room, where they were fighting and playing like siblings.

This phenomenon is sometimes called parentification, in which the absence of adult figures providing sufficient care causes one child to bear more responsibility than is normal for the age, and step into the role of “parent”. Parentification can be adaptive and healthy with concrete/practical tasks, in small periods of time and with plenty support, for example pre-teens babysitting their younger cousins. Suffice to say, Lelouch had none of those things. He is Nunnally’s sole contact, made worse by himself by being stubborn and not wanting to let anyone else in to help. Additionally, plenty of other risk factors for destructive parentification is present - the tasks are diffuse, all-consuming and way above the level appropriate for his age, he gets no sort of recognition, reward, or help, it lasts a long period of time (permanently), generational lines become somewhat blurred, and his own needs end up taking second priority to him. And, as you’ll remember from the attachment theory section, this kind of relationship is not horizontal in nature - Lelouch and Nunnally don’t provide each other mutual support of this nature, but rather Lelouch is the one providing a function for Nunnally.

In the beginning of this section, I mentioned that Nunnally’s trauma as a result of Marianne’s death was primarily physical. However, she evidently went through a great deal of psychological trauma as well. A novel detailing their childhoods in Japan states that Nunnally privately had a terrible time coping with the changes in her life and would throw tantrums when left to her own at Kururugi residence, destroying nearly anything she could get her hands on. However, unless she secretly throws tantrums whenever her brother is off screen, this doesn’t seem to be an issue during the span of the series. I’d argue this could be attributed to Lelouch functioning as a caregiver for her - she had someone there to help her, calm her down and provide external emotional regulation, which in turn helped her learn to better regulate her emotional states on her own. Lelouch provides safety and warmth, and, in doing so, becomes a buffer for his sister.

Lelouch, however, has no such buffers. Because of this, it’s easy to draw a line between his parental problems and trauma, and his subsequent maladjusted pattern behaviour when the siblings arrive in Japan. At the Kururugi residence, both him and Nunnally are offered both food and clothing, but he is insistent on providing everything himself - he washes all their clothes, and buys their food with coupons in town, despite being beat up by the other boys there for being Britannian. He’s distrustful towards everyone there (before later warming up to Suzaku) and hypersensitive for any possible threat to Nunnally’s safety. In my opinion, it’s evident Charles’ words had an impact on him. When Suzaku asks why he is so hellbent on refusing help, he responds with: “I’ll live by my own strength, and I won’t be dead any longer!” Through caregivers, children learn what to expect from the world and their own place in it - in Lelouch’s case, he clearly sees the world as an unsafe place with few people to truly trust, and considers himself only worth something if he is entirely independent. Although independence is often seen as a “mature” trait in children and therefore indicative of “good” development, healthy dependence and attachment in childhood is crucial for the facilitation of later healthy independence. And unlike Nunnally (who has him), he doesn’t have anyone to rely on and turn to for his security.

Diverting slightly from the topic at hand, I think this highlights the interesting narrative role of C.C. as the closest thing Lelouch has to a caregiver proxy. I am in no way trying to imply she is outright maternal towards him, but she’s of help and offers practical and sometimes emotional support - a role no other person in Lelouch’s life really fills. I already explained why Nunnally isn’t a possible candidate, and Suzaku, while an important figure in Lelouch’s life, has his own essay-worthy plate of parental problems to deal with. Additionally, their whole enemy situation doesn’t make him someone Lelouch can reliably turn to for comfort and support. C.C however, is older, wiser, more “stable”, and seems to know how to offer emotional support in a way that somewhat calms Lelouch down. In turn, he occasionally tries to reach out to her in difficult situations (or at least he gives into having breakdowns in front of her), which he doesn’t seem to do with anyone else. If only she’d intervened when he was a child instead of just standing there dramatically in the background. But alas.

V. Some Things Just Stick in Your Mind: Differential Susceptibility

Earlier, I briefly mentioned Nunnally being the one most harmed by Marianne’s death. She was younger when it happened, more directly involved, and experienced a greater loss of function as a result which altered her lifestyle significantly. Based on this, I could easily argue that the incident would have far more damaging implications for her long-term psychological well-being compared to her older brother. I could, but I won’t, because it didn’t. Despite all these risk factors present in Nunnally’s case, their mother’s death seems to have made far more of a long-term impact on Lelouch. We’ve already discussed the most important reason why: Lelouch providing Nunnally with protective care associated with a secure parent, thus functioning as a buffer for her trauma. In this section, I’d like to discuss another important factor, interacting with attachment security: namely, differential susceptibility (also sometimes called responsiveness for care).

When we meet Lelouch in the beginning of Code Geass, he feels stuck and utterly powerless in his situation. He gambles on chess to pass time, but feels otherwise bored, restless and detached from his environment. When he receives the power of Geass from C.C., it gives him what he claims he wanted all along - a tool to take control of his life, get revenge on those who wronged him and actually do something. Thus, a plan to overthrow the Britannian Empire is formed and set into motion. The main targets seem to be the royal family as he struggles to systematically take down the empire and search for information - once he meets his brother Clovis, he shoots him (seemingly) without much hesitation. As time goes on, he sacrifices more and more time and energy to his obsessive goal, while his web of lies and various interpersonal becomes increasingly difficult to manage. There is a reason his character is often compared to the likes of Light Yagami (despite them having completely opposing ideologies, but that’s an essay topic for another day) - his arc follows the same downward spiral pattern, where one thing leads to another and suddenly you’re up to your ears in civilian casualties. It’s obvious Lelouch hasn’t accepted, gotten over, or forgiven his family in the slightest, and takes this anger out on those he perceives wronged him in search of an answer.

Meanwhile, Nunnally doesn’t exhibit anything close to this kind of grudge. She seems upset whenever it is brought up, but otherwise seems to have made peace with what happened and ready to forgive her family. One might argue this comes down to a difference of opportunity - Nunnally doesn’t exactly have the power of Geass, or even functioning eyes of the non-mind control variety, so it might be a bit more difficult to get certain things done. Such as killing off most of the Britannian royal family. However, even before Lelouch got the power of Geass, he expressed a wish to destroy Britannia for what they did to him and his sister. So, unless Nunnally has some secret desire to kill that was just never mentioned (in which case this whole essay is null and void, I suppose), Lelouch seems to be coping with his trauma in a much more maladaptive way than his sister, turning his sadness and feelings of rejection into anger and resentment, which ended up staying with him pretty much until the day he died.

Reach your arm out and grab the stars or whatever that quote from LoGH is.

Based on this, I’d argue Lelouch is what one might call a flexible strategist. This doesn’t refer to his military tactics (although he seems pretty flexible with those as well) but simply means that, for better and for worse, he’s relatively sensitive to factors and people in his external environment. On one hand, he seems to flourish in environments where he gets support. During his childhood in the Imperial Palace, he seemed to mostly get along with and care about his siblings (as mentioned earlier). He was also by all accounts a very bright child - he did say he never managed to beat Schneizel at chess, but to give Lelouch some credit here, Schneizel at the time would have been an adult man in his early 20s, while Lelouch was, like, 7. The fact he even stood a chance is fairly impressive. I do not want to argue chess ability is the ultimate measurement of childhood functioning, but my point here is this: he seemed to be on a decent developmental path, both cognitively and socially, all things considered. On the other hand, he tends to react poorly whenever something goes wrong. I’ll talk about this in more depth in the emotional development section, but tl;dr: Lelouch is a very volatile character, who tends to have very high highs and low lows.

While Lelouch seems to be more “formable” by both positive and negative environmental influences, Nunnally is more of a so-called fixed strategist. She, like Lelouch, seemed to be in a decent place before the incident, had a period of acting out after her trauma (throwing tantrums etc.), but got “back on track” through Lelouch fairly quickly. She seems more forgiving of her family, for example when she is instantly supportive of Euphie’s special administrative zone (which Lelouch has a very ambivalent relationship with). Towards the endgame in S2, she even aligns herself with Schneizel. As her arc goes on, she shows herself more and more capable of functioning without Lelouch’s help, and make decisions of her own, based on her own opinions. Her outlook on the world seems to be much more down-to-earth and less black and white. Even when her own brother (the only person she’s been able to rely on for most of her life) geasses her and literally leaves her lying on the floor, she tries to reason with him. This is obviously just speculation, but I think had something similar happened to Lelouch he would have, psychologically speaking, completely lost it (in fact, he does lose it multiple times, which I’ll also get back to). Additionally, from the glimpse we see of Nunnally with Suzaku after Zero Requiem, it seems like she’s been able to cope relatively well with her brother’s death. In general, she seems to find her feet much easier than Lelouch and is more stable across situations.

To summarise everything so far: I’d argue neither Charles nor Marianne were secure caregivers for Lelouch and Nunnally. This is implied not only by their traits and actions, but can be inferred from Lelouch’s maladaptive developmental path. The reason we see this pattern develop in Lelouch but not Nunnally is that he, through parentification, functioned as a buffer for her. Furthermore, this difference in trajectories is amplified by their different underlying susceptibilities - Lelouch more sensitive/formable by negative events and loss in general, while Nunnally is more resilient. From this point on I’ll focus mainly on Lelouch, and discuss how this magnificent cocktail of risk factors explain his developmental outcomes as an older teenager - in particular, how it shines through when it comes to his emotionality, identity, and goals/motivations.

VI. Thunder in Our Hearts: Emotional Development and Interpersonal Relationships

Lelouch frequently throughout the series, for lack of a better term, loses his absolute shit. For example, in the scene where he plays chess with Mao in S1 E16, he screams and dramatically falls backwards when the last piece is thrown onto the scale. He’s completely devoid of expression, and is well and truly out of it until Suzaku arrives. He ends up in a similar state of mind when he thinks Nunnally is killed in S2, where it seems like he’s completely detached from his surroundings - just repeating that he wants to speak with her. In addition to these dissociative-esque states in response to extreme stress, he has lesser breakdown and outbursts as well, such as: after Shirley’s father dies, after the incident with Euphie, when he’s flipping out at Rolo upon seeing his phone locket, etc. Additionally, he’s been shown to take stress and anger out on other people in the (kinda hilarious) scene where he goes to an abandoned street to use his Geass on random people, making them dance as he stands there being angsty. These bursts of emotion don’t exclusively concern negative situations either, as evidenced by his multiple periods of manic laughter and monologues during battle.

I once read this Geass analysis claiming Lelouch is an unemotional character. As evidenced by these screenshots, that was a correct take and not inaccurate at all. Emotions? Where?

In addition to being fairly emotional, Lelouch’s character is also very centered around the people in his life. His mother and sister are the primary motivation through the series. He uses Nunnally’s well-being to justify his actions. He let’s C.C. comfort him. He cares greatly about Shirley, and is devastated at her father’s death (though one can only assume he feels a bit better after punching a wall in the shower), to the point where he erases her memory to spare her the suffering he’s bringing by getting her involved. He obviously deeply cares about Suzaku (again - essay for another day), and orders him to keep on living no matter what, despite him being the number one obstacle for Zero’s plans. If he expresses this affection in a reasonable way is another question entirely - his main way of expressing his love for Nunnally seems to be killing thousands of people for her sake, Shirley by erasing her memory, and Suzaku by forcing him to live on at any cost, which is the exact opposite of what he wanted.

He also has a recurring pattern of requiring a lot of external emotional regulation through other people. Nunnally is the most obvious example of this (obviously) -  whenever something goes slightly wrong, he usually defaults to screaming about her, and becomes absolutely devastated whenever she’s unsafe. If Lelouch functions as her buffer, I’d say she’s her crutch. He heavily leans on her for justification and a purpose in life. But, these maladaptive ways of leaning on people also occurs with other characters, such as in the scene with Kallen in the warehouse where he’s about to inject himself with refrain. Kallen takes the needle from him and throws it on the ground, and he reacts by walking towards her asking her to console him - saying “there are things a woman can do for that, right?”. Kallen promptly (rightfully) slaps him, and he seems to regain his senses.

The most frequently repressed scene by all Lelouch fans.

In summary, I’d argue Lelouch is the complete opposite of an unemotional or uncaring character. He often seems to struggle with controlling his (plethora of) emotions in healthy ways, and copes with them either through completely shutting things out, having frequent breakdowns, lashing out on others, or using people as emotional crutches. He’s also very centered around other people, but tends to express it in less-than-appropriate ways, and goes on about things in an almost childish way, at times. This, I think, is indicative of his insecure attachment and lack of sensitive caregivers. In contrast to Nunnally, who had him, he didn’t have anyone to provide safety and externally regulate his emotions, meaning he was never able to internalise such strategies. Thus, there is a pattern of unhealthy (lack of) regulation of emotional states, leading to these stark contrasts between high and low points, and the quite bad ways he deals with them. Years of stress, repressed restlessness and unhealthy coping mechanisms for trauma certainly didn’t help either. Put simply - he’s a bit emotionally immature, and this is a significant aspect of his character.

VII. Reflektor: Identity and Projection

One of the most prevalent motifs in  Lelouch’s arc, save for the chess symbolism, is the theme of masks and a fragmented identity. Throughout the series, he uses different identities to fill different roles in his life: Lelouch vi Britannia the prince, Lelouch Lamperouge the student, Zero the terrorist/freedom fighter and eventually Lelouch vi Britannia again, the tyrannical 99th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire. This switch is the most obvious display of the fragmented identity theme, as he is quite literally changing his name and masquerading as different people. With his Zero persona he even puts on a literal mask to conceal his face, but he also uses subtler, figurative masks for his other personas in order to achieve various goals. Additionally, there are also subtler role shifts at play within these identities: Lelouch Lamperouge exists  as Nunnally’s caregiver, a student council member, Suzaku’s childhood friend, etc. (as with all people, fictional or not).

It is here his main ideological conflict with his parents arises. Charles and Marianne wants, through their Ragnarök plan, to abolish all “masks” and fuse mankind into one collective unconscious. Their reasoning is that if everyone were honest and there were no separation between people, the world would be a better place. Lelouch, however, finds the concept of identity masks useful and even defines himself by them. This is clearly shaped by his own experience - in order to survive in Area 11 and protect his sister, he had to change his name and lie. In order to gain real power and influence to overthrow Britannia, he had to change his name and lie. This modus operandi goes straight to the heart of his identity, because it is the reason he is able to exert his will over the world in any meaningful way - which, as we discussed earlier, is the reason he is ���not dead any longer”. His core idea is that those who are privileged enough to be able to tell the truth about themselves, have no right to deny others the right to lie for their own survival or to achieve their goals.

Carl Jung arguably had a much more significant impact on anime than he did psychology. Actually, this isn’t even arguable.

Another, subtler way the series conveys the theme of fractured identity is Lelouch’s projection of desires and wishes onto others. This is shown quite literally through how the Geass gives him the power to command anyone to do anything. But not only does he impose his will onto others through verbal command, he also projects his more abstract goals and desires into the people in his life. Again, Nunnally is the most obvious example of this: Everything he does, he claims is for the sake of Nunnally. It’s interesting he never outright says that he wanted to do any of this for any personal reason - it’s all about a kinder world for Nunnally, Nunnally’s smile, and how their parents abandoned them. In the final confrontation with Charles and Marianne, Suzaku asks him if he used Nunnally as an excuse to justify his actions. Lelouch confirms this, and then says he fought to protect everything he wanted to protect. Still, he never mentions he feels rejected, or that he would want to grow older in a kinder world, even though it’s obviously more his own wish than hers (as Nunnally mentions during Zero Requiem, she would have been happy just being with her brother). In a way, he considers himself two steps removed from his desires - only working against Britannia on the basis of what he imagines the people in his life would want him to do.

Lelouch also has a tendency to view his own identity(-ies) through abstract symbols, rather than as a concrete human being with a backstory, grudges and motivations. In exile he expresses frustration at being a pawn of Britannia, as Zero he functions as a faceless symbol of Japanese liberation and a rebellion against the establishment, and as Emperor he aims to become a symbol of people’s hatred towards their oppressors. Even the orchestration of his life’s ending is primarily a symbolic act to him; with the world’s hatred focused on a tyrannical Emperor, the world can be peaceful when that symbol disappears. Lelouch seems very aware of this himself: that he is past the point of no return, and destined to become someone who will bear the burden of sacrificing his own identity, morals and character to play a part. He, in a way, seems more comfortable in this realm of abstraction - in being more of a symbol. However, if we try to strip away his rather grand narrative for a second, we’re left with a person committing suicide at 19 because he thinks the world will be a better place for it.

Black king captures e1, checkmate.

VIII. Pity the Child: Politics and Spite

Lastly, I want to make the argument that the parental abandonment Lelouch and Nunnally experienced, and the subsequent cascade of issues is the most important aspect of the series. Even more so than the central ideological conflict of working against versus within systems of oppression. As I’ve already touched on a fair bit, I think Lelouch’s circumstances growing up and the experiences arising from that was the very foundation for his later ideology and hatred for Britannia, rather than his ideology in and of itself being the reason he hates his parents and the system they represent. This is best represented by the climax of the scene with Charles and Marianne in C’s world, where Lelouch speaks not of systems of power, racism, oppression, politics, etc. - he speaks of abandonment and hurt.

In my opinion, there’s reason to question whether he would have gone to the same lengths to destroy Britannia if he’d not been exiled from the system himself. In one of the picture dramas from his summer in Japan as a child, he lectures Suzaku on Britannian and Japanese foreign trade policy, making the argument they’re both unethical. This indicates he already knew of and disagreed with the actions of Britannia, but it’s only after he’s exiled and war is declared on Japan he begins talking about enacting revenge. Additionally, he has some truly magnificent displays of hypocrisy throughout the series that (in my unpopular (?) opinion) puts Suzaku to shame. Even the very act of him using Geass is contradictory to his fundamental belief: that opposing a well-intentioned act upon others is no different from an evil act. During their confrontation, he is very concerned with expressing this ideology to his parents, before promptly turning around and making his brother a geassed slave forever, two episodes later.

Not to completely undermine his ideological streak; I do genuinely believe he is anti-Britannia, and I do genuinely believe he values personal freedom highly. However, based on everything discussed so far, I’d argue he would perhaps not have cared as much, or at least been more open to a more Suzaku-esque approach, had he not had deep personal trauma connected to the whole situation as well. So, his main motivation isn’t to “bash the fash”, as it were, but rather bash these few specific fash who traumatised him and his sister before shipping them off to a foreign country they then immediately declared war on. Revenge, spite, and pure, childish anger towards a family that wronged him is a much more useful lens through which to view the series, rather than an ideological conflict per se.

IX. The Conclusion Bit, Finally

To summarise this entirely too long essay, Lelouch and Nunnally both suffered from insecure attachment and later trauma and parental abandonment. Nunnally’s main protective factor/buffer for this trauma was Lelouch, which gets her “back on track” towards becoming an emotionally stable and independent girl. Her brother, however, doesn’t have anyone to fill this role, and this cascades into dysfunctional behaviour and strategies across different domains: his trust issues as a child, obsession with revenge, immature emotionality, poor handling of stress, projecting onto others, and a fragmented concept of his own identity. Lastly, I think these personal issues constitute the crux of his motivation throughout the series - Lelouch’s arc is about trauma, parental neglect and spite more than it ever was about politics.

[huntershowl-moving]

drabble 001: rotting city

 some people find refuge in the embrace of another. a parent, a brother, a lover. some people find refuge in courage. some find it in habits, healthy or unhealthy or somewhere in that sloshy gray area in between. some people don’t find refuge at all.

PERSEPHONE AISA used to believe she found her refuge in family. not a complete one by any means. a voidblooded child on the streets of a city corrupted by the clawing hands of moral decay would not be safe on her own. but she wasn’t on her own. she had her twin: LETO AISA, quiet and sensitive with a creative soul. they took new names when they left home. new names to symbolize new lives. new names for a fresh start, away from their barbed-wire parents, their gilded-cage life. leto was not good at standing up for himself. he was empathetic, his words falling flat when he tried to sound tough. he didn’t want tofight – he wanted to draw, paint, create beauty out of duskwall’s dust and grime, make something within its crackling lightning wall that was beautiful rather than bloody… but the two needed to eat. they needed somewhere to sleep when it rained. they needed to stay alive in the midst of gang wars and hungry eyes searching for voidblooded children like them to traffic who-knows-where. so persephone picked up the slack. they’d shared a womb, but they didn’t share everything: she had all the fire. quick to temper and slow to forgive, persephone did whatever she had to in order to keep her and leto safe: steal, con, hurt people, a spirited little anklebiter with a cunning mind and fast hands. she was the first to pick up a knife. she was the first to draw blood. but that didn’t mean she was ruthless. persephone did her best to solve problems nonviolently. she wasn’t good at words, but like leto, she was empathetic; it was easy to see when hurting someone wasn’t an appropriate solution, when they were more hurt than she was already. an exchange of money or information was a better use of both her and the antagonist’s time. logic, already primitive in a child’s mind, was frequently overruled by the pair’s emotions. and when the two hit aroadblock, they chose an option that would change their lives for the worse, forever. duskwall was already ruled by a handful of factions: gangs, mostly, peppered with a few secret societies and larger crime syndicates. none of these were more insidious than THE UNSEEN. if the name didn’t reveal enough, the unseen was of a debatable size – no one knew how many people were in it, who was and who wasn’t on their side, in their pocket, on their payroll. they were rumored to have people in the government, influencing the lord governorship; people in ironhook prison, controlling who was and wasn’t put away; people in the bluecoat police force, the imperial military, the goddamn factories. despite its apparently insidious size, there had never been an information leak. now, that wasn’t to say everyone in the unseen was – well – unseen. its leader, SANYA TRISKEL, was comparatively very fucking seen. they lived in the largest mansion in the city. bigger than the lord governor’s, bigger than the suite the emperor stayed in when he came to visit duskwall. they were a public figure who wined and dined with duskwall’s finest, attended nearly every opera, and installed gramophones in their most frequented establishments so that they could listen to jazz whenever they wanted to. they weren’t from duskwall’s mother continent, the imperialist country akoros. they had been born in iruvia, a continent southwest of akoros whom the imperial military had not gotten their colonizer fingers on yet. sanya immigrated to duskwall at an unknown time and somehow managed to become the most powerful person in the world. one arm was made from an unfamiliar white metal, something light and strong that glowed with yellow light. their eyes, an amber-gold hue, split into two irises when they were angry ( so the rumors went. only an unlucky few had ever seen them angry and lived to tell the tale. ) they ruled the unseen from the public eye, their fingers wrapped around puppet strings attached to every continent in the known world. duskwall was certainly under the unseen’s heel. knowing all of that, persephone and leto decided to try and ask for the unseen’s help when they finally ran out of scraps of luck. no more benevolent bakers. no more unguarded awnings to sleep under. no more money, no more water. there was only one direction to turn. the contracts were short and uninvolved, at first. eavesdrop on this conversation. report to this messenger. pickpocket this man’s mailbox key. run this message to that client. their orders came from different people every time, as that was how the unseen worked; no one knew each other’s names or faces, only the right thing to say. as time went on, though, their jobs became increasingly more precarious. persephone broke her arm trying to escape a client angry with the news she brought him. leto was reduced to tears over and over again, and they had no one to tell that it was too much. they couldn’t ask for help from colleagues whose names, faces, and locations they didn’t know. nobody talked to sanya, of course – such a huge organization meant that very few members of the unseen interacted with them directly. the twins were teenagers – thirteen or fourteen, she couldn’t remember anymore – when they finally decided to escape. the unseen had proved too dangerous to stay in while planning a future for themselves. persephone spent days charming the booth worker at the floating city’s airship docks enough to get herself and leto tickets off of the continent altogether. no more duskwall, no more akoros, no more unseen. besides, other people had left the gang before. some had retired, some had quit, all without much fuss from the gang at large. the twins had no belongings other than a few keepsakes from home: a small framed painting for leto; a mostly-empty bottle of cologne for persephone that smelled like a pine forest; the clothes on their backs; each other. leto, with his nubby black horns, persephone with her smoking hair. the night before their departure, they sat in their assigned room in an unseen safehouse and drank clean water from a shared pitcher. ❛ where d’you think we’ll end up? ❜ leto asked, scratching at the base of one of his horns. his skin was drying out now that it was getting colder, and the horns area itched like crazy. one of his paintings sat drying next to them, its corners weighed down by rocks. duskwall, but with a sky lit by brighter colors than the shattered sun would normally allow. ❛ i don’t know. ❜ persephone was still having trouble hiding her ritzy brightstone accent. it was the quickest way to peg someone for a runaway kid, the quickest way to get yourself kidnapped for ransom and thrown back home. she had to speak slowly, if she talked at all. ❛ maybe … mm. severos? ❜ ❛ you just want to pet the horses, seph. ❜ ❛ i also wanna eat all the fruit. ❜ ❛ all of it? ❜ ❛ well – i mean – yes. but they can grow more after that. ❜ leto smiled, covering his mouth with a hand to hide the grin. persephone hated that the world had made her brother so self-conscious. she cracked a smile back with an involuntary little chuckle. this … this was the happiest she’d felt since before they’d joined the unseen. it was her and leto. nothing could stop them. the last thing persephone remembered from that morning was the cool breeze of a hopeful dawn, before she and her brother were dragged away with sacks pulled tightly over their heads.

––––––––––– HELLHOUND, THE HUNTER doesn’t find refuge in much of anything. once persephone became a sleeper, anger and grief arose in her place to form the shape of a woman fed by liquor and fury and unhealthy loyalty. she and leto haven’t talked in almost three years. it’s better that way, to hellhound; if leto hates her, he won’t share the cloud of shit-hits-the-fan bad luck that seems to follow her everywhere she goes like a hungry stray. he does not know what has happened to turn persephone into hellhound. if he knew, he would be killed. it’s as simple as that.  attachment is weakness, as far as hellhound is concerned. the deeper a bond becomes, the more vulnerable both parties become to demons and prying eyes; if you care about no one and no one cares about you, then the only person your enemies can go after is yourself. yes, hellhound has a brother. i heard she doesn’t give a damn about him, though. they haven’t even spoken once in three years.  better that way, she repeats when the longing threatens to eat her alive. better that way, better that way.

[arabidzombiewrites-archive]

The Scrapper

Summary: Things have not gone well for David since his hasty trip back home. They have not gotten better since he decided to reunite with Dwight. Part of the Special Delivery verse Word Count: 2235 <<First <<Previous Next>>

By the time the haze of rage fueled by grief and alcohol lifted David was left shaking with scabbed over knuckles and a killer hangover. He only had bits and pieces of the previous night-- had it only been of night since his last stint of sobriety, or had it been longer?-- and only some of them were good. He remembered laughing and joking with his mates. He remembered being eager for a boxing match. Cheering crowd circled around him and the unfortunate sod stuck fighting him. Had the guy lived? David couldn't remember. The guy David had visited over a debt hadn't. The King couldn't remember which one he busted his knuckles open on. Maybe both.

Thinking about it made his hands twitch, which made them hurt. David didn't mind. He'd been hurting for a while, but in the kind of way that made physical pain feel like a release. He'd been too late returning from America to be there for his father's last moments. His mother hadn't been fat behind. Watching her waste away like that --

There wasn't enough beer in the world to get him drunk enough to forget that sight. He had more than enough money and was willing to try, though.

Fighting helped. David had been angry at himself for not being there. The aggression he had grown up with was only made worse. He was always ready for a fight. He was also damn good at it. Tougher and tougher people tried to take him in the underground fights that had become like a release from having to feel. Eventually one tried to kill him. David had won.

He felt sick about it for weeks. He wasn't sure how many times he had washed his hands, trying to clean the blood off. Only he could see it there, a permanent strain on him. He had no clue what happened to the body or if anyone missed the guy. He didn't know those things about the next few people either. Or about the ones he had taken care of for the people he collected debts for. For him it was never about the money. It was the physical release of the fight and the rush of the kill. Even though he felt sick after he kept going back to the bottle, the fights, the jobs.

Maybe he would have continued like that until his death if some strange slip of the mind never took place.

“So ‘oo’s Dwight?” The scraper hadn't even realized he wasn't alone until she started talking. They were laying in bed next to each other, still naked but not wrapped around one another anymore. David hardly remembered their time together let alone her name.

He stopped looking at his hands long enough to roll over and look at her. “What?”

She shrugged, very nonchalant about the conversation. Maybe that came with sleeping with a man in his kind of work. “Last night I’s showin’ you a good time an’ you called me Dwight. I’ain’t mad, just wanna know ‘oo I'm competin’ wif. Be’er be a real looker.”

Truth be told, David hadn't thought about Dwight in a long time. He'd been worried about his family, then he fell into a bottle and with all the violence it felt like even thinking about his pizza boy might cause Dwight ttoo just know and be disappointed in David. Or afraid of him. That might be worse.

David grunted and started getting out of bed. “Just some bloke.”

Maybe what he needed was another trip to America find Dwight and that easy friendship they had. Rekindle what they'd stated before David had gotten the call about his father. Maybe David could restart and get better. Considering how he'd been wasting his life for the past few years-- how had it been so long?-- it was worth a try. Worst case scenario he'd end up disappointed and back in England picking up where he left off.

----

It turned out that Dwight did not still work at that same pizza place. David was happy for him, really, but that did make things slightly more difficult. Luckily the PizzaWhat still had the same manager. David felt sorry for the guy, so he gave him some extra cash on top of what he’d been planning to use to bribe the guy into telling him everything he knew about where Dwight had gone. David had even been given a last name. Score.

Some searching lead David to Dwight’s Facebook page which lead him to the place Dwight currently worked at. It looked like the kind of drab and depressing office building David had decided long ago to never go into. He really did not want to go it, but he did want to talk to Dwight. He had no idea what to say. They hadn’t parted on bad terms, but it had been so long ago. What if Dwight forgot David? What if he had some new boyfriend or something in his life? What if he was happily married and they had a kid and every summer they’d go on holiday to a beach where Dwight would sit under a massive umbrella looking uncomfortably warm with a stripe of sunscreen on his nose and a book in his hands, probably a comic book because David could not picture Dwight setting up with War and Peace or a detective novel or something. Dwight would watch his husband and their adopted child play in the water. His husband would be of larger build than Dwight, strong and confident and outgoing, but being around Dwight brought out a softness and happiness in him that he hadn’t even known he’d had. Their child would laugh and splash the husband, snapping him back to reality after he’d zoned out just looking at Dwight and realizing how lucky he was that the smaller man was in his life. David couldn’t interrupt something so perfect!

Dwight’s status online was ‘single’, though. That had to mean something.

Just to take the edge off, and because he’d been uncomfortably sober during the flight to the States followed by very drunk one he landed, still drunk when he stopped by the pizza joint, and had sobered on his way to Dwight’s new job, David left for a quick drink. He had made a good impression on Dwight the first time they met when he was completely cunted. It was only fitting that he show up drunk and make out with Dwight. Then he could sober up with Dwight, get to know how he’d been those past few years, and convince Dwight to leave his husband and adopted child.

----

David’s first great mistake was ever rekindling his interest in Dwight. The Entity was picky about who it took. People who would be noticed, people who would be missed; those had no place in the Entity’s realm. It would cause someone to look. It could draw unwanted attention to the creature that was snatching people and using them in its twisted food-games. Dwight had, from what the Entity had seen, been mostly ignored by everyone. He had qualities that could help keep the Entity’s survivors hopeful and therefore was useful and, beyond that one blip in college, had no one in his life. Even his parents were uninvolved. They didn’t even have to be killed. Then David went looking. David caught the wrong kind of attention.

The Entity considered David as a survivor. It might be a distraction to Dwight. They would either work very well together, or get each other killed. Maybe David would be told that Dwight was gone and give up his search. Maybe there was no need to involve him. The Entity had a good feeling about David. It wanted him; wanted an excuse to take him. It decided to dig a little deeper. Get to know David. See where he could fit in with the Entity’s realm.

David never noticed the shadows shift behind him in the elevator of Dwight’s boring office building. He could not feel them crawling up his legs, his back; slipping into his skin at his neck and infecting his spinal column. Entwining with his brain stem, seeping into the cells and jumping with the electrical signals firing from one neuron to the next. It read his thoughts, his past, every emotion and dream and each tiny little thing that made David King in an instant. It knew him more intimately than anyone, perhaps even David himself, ever could. It knew what it wanted for him.

His parents were gone. That was one tie out of the way. No siblings. Had left his life in England behind without any of his friends seeming to notice or care. The Entity planted little bits into their minds; explanations about David being gone. Reasons why he might never come back. He had been a fighter. They had all seen his temper time and again. Perfect. He had picked a fight he could not win. It was bound to happen eventually. All that was left to take care of was give him a reason to be everything the Entity knew he could be. He needed a little push, one that the darkness infecting his thoughts was more than happy to give.

----

A cold shiver ran down David’s spine, as though someone had injected ice into his nerves. The coldness settled and left him feeling strange. No. Something whispered through his thoughts, impossible for him to deny. No, this was fine. This was how he was supposed to feel. He had something to do. He was here for someone. The whispered spurred him on. What he wanted was so close, he just had to take it. He had taken it that night when he kissed the pizza boy. When he broke into Dwight’s apartment. Took him home. Sitting on the roof, watching the stars and keeping Dwight close so the smaller man would feel safe; he had kissed Dwight again, then. Claimed him.

David walked out of the elevator with the easy confidence of a King coming to claim what was rightfully his. He did not question the guiding force that snaked through his mind. It lead him, as it was meant to. He followed it’s directions and easily found the man who was in charge. The man who would tell him where Dwight was.

“You got somethin’ what belongs to me,” David grinned. His hands twitched at his sides. His skin crawled. He knew this feeling. He felt it before a fight. A tension. An excitement. So much potential and energy just waiting to be released.

The man David had confronted looked confused. He stared at David as though trying to determine whether or not the large man was serious. “Excuse me? Who are you? Are you from corporate?”

David shook his head slowly. It was hard to move for any purpose other than the one he was chosen for. A grin grew on his features, splitting his face painfully. “Dwight. Where is ‘e?”

The man looked nervous. David liked it. He could see the way the man’s eyes widened. He could practically smell it on him. He could hear the man’s heartbeat speed up. This man did not have Dwight, but he would be useful. The whispers in David’s mind promised him that much. David had to open a door and step through. He had to let the darkness take him. Make him able to find and take what was his. The man got as far as mentioning that he had lost Dwight before something inside David snapped. Was set free.

The shadow. The voices. They could help David find what this man had lost. It needed something from him. A way to open the gate. A sacrifice. These people in this office had lost what David was looking for, but they would help him find it. He would give the darkness what it wanted and, in return, it would allow him in. He would pass through and he would be given what was his.

It would not be quick. It would be painful. Not just for the people being sacrificed. People who were trapped and could do nothing but cower and run and try to hide from the man who became more bestial with every life taken. David had killed before, but this was different. This was not defending himself in a boxing match. This was not collecting a debt. This was something more important. Something holy. David killed for his new god. He was given gifts. Dark, painful things as the shadow that had invaded his body spread and destroyed him from the inside out. Changed him into a killer devoted to the Entity.

----

No one exactly knows what happened that day. There were rumors and legends and horror stories. There was a police investigation that yielded no clues. No answers. The cameras in the building had malfunctioned. Among the grainy footage that went in and out between fits of static were a few shots of people running. People screaming. Blood. Death. Most shocking of all were the few glimpses of the man responsible. Unidentified and hardly even human, the thing that slaughtered those unfortunate souls was the basis of debate and discussion for months before slipping quietly into obscurity. While the rest of the world moved on and forgot, the Scrapper was brought into the Entity’s realm.

[imagine-loki]

Follow The Angels

TITLE: Follow The Angels CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 2 AUTHOR: MaliceManaged ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine meeting Loki in a forest… When you’re both trying to dispose of a body RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: Ask and ye shall receive! …Okay, fine; my muse bombarded me with ideas and wouldn’t let it go. Enjoy anyway! Some blood, violence and a few f-bombs.

_________________

    “Where do you go?” He asked suddenly as they sat on the rooftop of her building one late evening taking in the cool night breeze and starry sky.

    It was hers, she’d confirmed; she’d bought the whole thing when she moved to the town, though she didn’t tell him how she afforded it and he didn’t really care enough to ask.

    “Mm, here and there,” She replied half teasingly, earning a glare she grinned at.

    “You promised me answers,” He reminded.

    “I said ‘just about anything’, luv, and I have,” She returned, causing him to look away with an irritated huff. “I check in on some people.”

    “What ‘people’?” He asked somewhat half-heartedly. He was beginning to think he’d never get a straight answer out of her, whatever she’d promised.

    “I suppose you could call them friends, since I can’t technically call them charges anymore,” She replied with a slight shrug, “I don’t stop caring just because I’m officially out of a job.”

    He stared at her for a long moment. “Broken ties or not; are you ever going to outright tell me what you are?”

    “Depends which way the wind blows, luv,” She replied with a wink, earning an eyeroll and an attempt at suppressing a smile. “Does it really matter?”

    “I don’t like not knowing.”

    “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

    They lapsed into silence again, the only sounds that of the world around them, little as it was.

    “You’re the reason nobody has come looking for me here.” It was not a question.

    She smirked. “Oh, they’ve looked…”

    He eyed her bemusedly. “Safira…” A pause. Did he really want to know? “… How many?”

    Her smirk turned into a wide, self-satisfied grin.

    No, he decided. He didn’t want to know.

*****

    He was curled up on the couch fiddling with a Rubik’s cube he’d found on his bedside table that morning when he heard the front door open and a loud clatter he discovered to be objects from the hallway table being knocked down as she stumbled inside. She was clutching her side and bleeding rather badly, though even then she smiled at him.

    “Safira, what-?” He began to ask then thought better of it and simply went over to her.

    She walked right by him, though she did accept his arm to steady herself when she stumbled again, and went into the kitchen. “Turn on the stove for me will you, luv?”

    As he did as she asked, she went over to the counter and rummaged through one of the drawers until she found a large chisel. He’d wondered why that was there, but had never bothered to ask, discovering early on in his stay that while she was a tidy person, she was not overly organised. She walked over to the stove and placed the metal of the chisel over the burner before pulling her shirt off with a hiss, making him realise her intentions.

    “Would you be a dear and get me a drink?” She asked, holding her shirt to the wound. He went over to the freezer and brought her a half-empty bottle of vodka, receiving a murmured thanks as he handed it over. She drank from the bottle then pulled her shirt away and poured some over the wound. “Fuck!” She hissed through gritted teeth then breathed a laugh. “I must be losing my touch.”

    When she deemed the chisel hot enough, she picked it up and, after a second’s hesitation to draw in a bracing breath, pressed it to the wound, screwing her eyes shut tight and letting out a litany of words he couldn’t understand (even with the Allspeak, adding to the list of his questions) but figured was most likely profanity. Without a word, he snatched the kitchen towel and ran it under the tap then held it out to her; she took it with a strained smile.

    “Was this because of me?” He finally asked.

    “It was not,” She replied before walking out of the kitchen, heading to the bathroom.

    He followed, lingering at the door while she took out the first aid kit to tend to herself. “You’ll be alright?”

    She glanced up briefly with a grin. “I’ll be alright; takes more than this to put me down.”

    “What happened?” He asked, not really expecting an answer. She never talked about what she did when she went out, though he was beginning to think it was at least partially out of a desire to keep him uninvolved for his own good.

    “Bad timing,” She replied wryly. She looked up to catch the tail end of his disappointment and gave him a somewhat apologetic look. “You know I’m not human.” He nodded. “I’m not supposed to be this breakable.”

    He thought for a moment. “Your banishment,” He concluded, remembering how powerless Thor had been during his banishment the previous year.

    She hummed in confirmation. “There’s no changing what I am, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t try; which means that sometimes parts don’t work the way they should.” She snorted amusedly. “A broken tool.”

    “I’m sorry,” He said before he was even aware of the words.

    “I’m not,” She replied with a grin, “I earned this, and I’d do it all over again.”

    “Why?” He asked, again before realising it. It seemed today his curiosity would not be reined in. “What was so wrong with where you came from?”

    “Nothing at all. To them. But I’m not them, and I never could be,” She replied without bitterness. “I had a job to do, and I did it, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed to do more.”

    “Even if it cost you everything?”

    “Even then.”

    He stepped aside so she could pass and followed her down the hall to her bedroom door. “Was it worth it?”

    She paused and turned around, walked up to him and braced her hands on his shoulders to pull herself up and kiss his cheek. “Absolutely.”

    With that she went into her room and closed the door behind her, leaving a faint smile on his face.

*****

    He was standing in the rain, and he was unreasonably happy about the fact. At least, that’s what a part of his mind was telling him; the rest either didn’t much care or was simply too pleased to listen.

    Loki didn’t leave his new home (was that what it was?) often, not quite trusting the exposure such a thing inherently brought with it, but he couldn’t stay indoors forever or he’d go completely mad (as if he weren’t already, he thought amusedly); and so he got out of bed, ate the breakfast Safira had left for him (she would worry if he didn’t eat, and that had to be avoided), and walked out of the building without much of a destination in mind but ‘out’. It hadn’t started raining until he was miles away and, while he’d by then set his mind to exploring the town, he stopped, turning his face up to the sky and simply enjoying the feel of the drops on his skin.

    After a while, he sensed he was being watched. Reaching out subtly with his magick he tried to find where it was coming from but found nothing out of the ordinary. Not there, then. Likely remote surveillance, he surmised. He called to his power, finding that while somewhat lethargic from lack of its accustomed use, he was much stronger now with the months of rest since his escape from… since his escape.

    Relatively satisfied, he walked on, deciding his plan of exploration was the right call after all; better to know his environment before he would need to. Even if the idea didn’t bother him on principle (he was not helpless), he couldn’t rely on Safira to always come to his rescue.

    The feeling of being watched didn’t diminish with time, which only put him more on edge, wondering who had found him and what they wanted. He didn’t think it was the chitauri - they weren’t exactly known for their subtlety - but that didn’t do much to identify who it was. He was relatively sure (hoped) Asgard didn’t know he was still alive yet (it was only a matter of time, but that was a problem to think about another day). Perhaps he’d attracted the attention of the midgardians, though he couldn’t imagine how; he hadn’t been doing much to warrant it, he didn’t think.

    Perhaps it wasn’t because of him at all, it occurred to him, but her.

    Safira was careful not to bring work home with her, as she called it, but it would only take one slip up, wouldn’t it? With that in mind, it occurred to him that maybe he could do something for her this time. He appreciated that she was determined to protect him, that she felt she needed to, but he didn’t like being in anyone’s debt, even if he was only so in his own mind. He could even the score a little.

    He stayed out far longer than he’d intended when he started his trek, but the plan required so. Whoever was observing him had been forced to resort to a more hands-on approach when he’d started going into places whatever equipment they were using couldn’t follow and he now knew where they were. He deliberately revealed he knew they were there then feigned an attempt to evade them; they took the bait, as expected, and followed him right into his trap. The wards he’d placed on every exit of the building - empty due to renovations - held firm, cutting off any escape.

    “Now, that was just underwhelmingly easy,” Loki said aloud to the two men in suits that only now realised what had happened. They brought out guns and aimed them at him, to which he rolled his eyes. “Those won’t help you.”

    “We don’t want to hurt you,” One of them said.

    “Good, then you won’t be disappointed,” He replied easily.

    “You need to come with us,” The other one said.

    “Now why would I do that?”

    “We have questions.”

    Loki let out a laugh. “So do I, but you don’t see me attempting to abduct people for it.”

    “You know this woman?” The first one asked then pulled a photograph out of an inner pocket of his jacket and held it up. It was somewhat grainy, but Safira’s wide grin was quite unmistakable to him even from a distance.

    “I wonder,” He replied vaguely. “What is your interest in her?”

    “She’s a suspect in a murder,” The second man replied.

    Loki tried and failed to hold back an amused snort. “Just the one?”

    “So you know.”

    He shrugged. “Considering her only effort to hide it is not saying it outright…”

    “You need to come with us,” The first man repeated.

    He feigned a thoughtful expression. “Mm, no, I don’t think I will.”

    “It wasn’t a request,” The man said, irritation seeping into his tone.

    A dangerous smile stretched his lips. “Oh; I know…”

*****

    “You’re keeping secrets from me,” She said as they moved through the aisles of the store, pretending not to notice the extra things making their way to the cart.

    “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” He replied absently, attention mostly on trying to choose between two flavours of jam he hadn’t tried yet before deciding to just get both.

    “These involve me,” She clarified. He froze, not looking at her, and she took his hand in hers and gave it a light squeeze, causing him to relax. “I only worry, is all.”

    “I’m not a defenceless child, Safira,” He said sharply, pulling his hand back.

    “I know that, luv,” She replied soothingly. “I still worry. It’s what I do.”

    “You’re not my mother.”

    She let out a laugh. “Now that would just be weird.”

    He tried to fight the smile and failed miserably, earning a grin that finally drew the chuckle out of him. They continued on with the shopping without any more said on the subject, but he knew it wasn’t over. He was more surprised it had taken her this long to find him out; she always seemed to know when something was off. Or maybe she had known and only waited to be sure he intended to keep it a secret before bringing it up. He supposed he’d find out when they got back home.

    He stalled by putting away the groceries as soon as they arrived in the apartment and she let him, patiently handing him things from the bags without a word, smiling amusedly when she thought he wasn’t looking. Once that was done he turned to her, crossing his arms over his chest.

    “You’re not as careful as you seem to think you are,” He finally said.

    “Aren’t I?” She joked.

    He walked out of the kitchen, going to his room and coming back out with an object in his hands. He handed it to her, revealing it to be a badge of some sort; it had an eagle with a shield in the centre, the words ‘Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division’ engraved around it.

    “They had questions,” He explained.

    She huffed a laugh. “Don’t we all.”

    “About you,” He added. “They know you killed someone.”

    “Only someone?” She asked amusedly.

    “I never said they were well informed,” He replied with a slight shrug, “They did, however, have your picture.”

    “I hope it’s a good one, at least.” She handed the badge back. “They still breathing?”

    “Do they have to be?”

    “Depends on them.”

    “They were when I left them, though I do hope they speak Portuguese.”

    She eyed him questioningly but he merely smirked and returned to his room to put the badge away. She shook her head with a laugh and went to kitchen to get lunch started. She wasn’t sure how she felt about someone looking out for her for a change, but as long as he wasn’t hurt she decided it didn’t bother her overmuch. As long as he didn’t make a habit of it.

*****

    They were on a vacation of sorts; she’d decided she wanted a change of scenery one day out of the blue and so they’d packed a bag and left. He didn’t mind the suddenness; he’d been wanting to travel as well, a year of nothing but the same town wearing on him.

    He felt the change in the air as they wandered the deserted streets of a city they were not supposed to be in long before he realised what it was; the clouds gathering, the rain. The thunder. By the time it really registered, it was too late to avoid it.

    He only barely had enough time to grab Safira by the waist and move back before Thor landed in front of them with enough force to crack the ground, and he spared a moment to wonder what in Hel the idiot was thinking even as a stab of fear went through him at seeing his brother (not his brother) again.

    “Loki.” It was practically an accusation, the way it was spoken, and he couldn’t help but flinch slightly.

    “Thor; fancy meeting you here,” He greeted, voice far steadier than he was feeling.

    “You think this a joke? We believed you dead,” Thor spat.

    “Sorry to disappoint,” He retorted coldly. “I assume you’re here to fix that.”

    “Why would I be-?” Thor began then stopped with a slight shake of his head. “I’ve come to bring you home.”

    “‘Home’, is it? And which ‘home’ would that be, I wonder? Surely you’ve been told by now, or did your banishment teach you the value of blindly following orders as intended?” Loki retorted mockingly.

    “I know,” Thor replied, trying to keep his anger in check, “It makes no difference.”

    That was apparently the wrong thing to say, if the storm that passed Loki’s expression was any indication.

    “It makes all the difference!” Loki spat, “But of course it doesn’t affect you, so why would it matter?”

    “That is not what I meant, and you know it,” Thor said angrily. “You are still my brother.”

    “No, I am not. I never was. I never will be,” Loki replied with what he intended to be finality. So why did it sound as though he were trying to convince himself as well? He shoved the thought aside. Now was not the time.

    “Loki, I know you are angry-” Thor began, but was cut off by a burst of magick that threw him back several feet.

    “Angry? Angry??” Loki yelled, moving towards Thor and knocking him back with another burst of magick when he got back up. “You have no idea how I feel!” Another blast. “You haven’t known for centuries, you self-centred fuck!” Another. “You just know what’s convenient!”

    “Enough!” Thor half roared.

    The hammer was flying towards Loki almost before he was fully conscious of the fact that he’d thrown it. Loki realised his mistake too late and mentally braced himself for the coming pain, but it failed to arrive; instead, he watched as Safira moved to stand before him and, before he could react, batted Mjolnir away as though it were nothing but a toy, sending it flying into the wall of the nearest building. For a moment - just a moment - he could have sworn he saw the faintest shapes of… wings… sprouting from her back, but they were gone by the time he blinked, and he could almost think he simply imagined it.

    She was livid in the face of their shock; it practically rolled off her in waves. “You dare.”

    “How…?” Thor managed, voice not nearly as strongly as intended.

    Loki could only stare in disbelief. He’d known there was more power to her than was apparent; there had to be, for her to have taken on who knew how many chitauri and captured the Other by herself. But this? This was something else entirely. He meant to move, not even sure what he was going to do any more than he knew what she would, but he found he couldn’t.

    He remained rooted to his spot as she walked over to Thor.

    He remained rooted to his spot as her hand shot up to grab him by the neck and squeezed hard enough to cut off his air.

    He remained rooted to his spot even as she brought him to his knees, finally loosening her hold only slightly when he was about to pass out.

    “You do not touch him,” She warned slowly, voice as icy as her gaze, “Or I will rip you apart.”

    “Safira,” He finally managed somewhat shakily, “Don’t. You can’t.”

    “I can and I will,” She retorted, not taking her eyes off Thor. “I will.”

    His body responded to his commands at last and he walked up to her, hesitating for a moment before reaching out and grabbing her free arm. She looked up to him, the menace in her eyes immediately replaced by warmth and concern.

    “Don’t,” He repeated, not caring at the moment how pleading he sounded, “Killing him will have consequences.”

    “That’s rather the point, luv,” She replied with a slight smile. The contrast was jarring.

    “Not the ones you intend,” He insisted, “They will kill you. And then who will look after all of us under your care?”

    Her hand on Thor’s throat twitched, drawing a slight hiss from him, then she released him, leaving him coughing and gasping for breath. She eyed him with an expression akin to disgust before looking back at Loki.

    “I won’t hold back forever.”

    “I know.” He turned to Thor. “Go back to Asgard; I’m staying here.”

    Thor stood, his lungs still burning and he was more than sure his neck would bruise. “I can’t simply leave you.”

    “It would hardly be the first time,” Loki replied bitterly.

    “Brother-”

   “You don’t call me that. You don’t deserve it.”

    “How can I, if you don’t give me the chance to?”

    Loki’s smile was as sharp as it was empty. “Congratulations, Thor; you finally understand how I feel.”

    With that, he grabbed Safira’s hand, turned and walked away without so much as a backwards glance.

[jillspencil]

You were not what I thought you were

I don’t know where else to post this so I’m putting it here. A little one shot fan fic type thing based on the premise of if Solas was not the tragic, regretful revolutionary that we came to find out he was. What if dragon age had taken his character in a very...different direction.

Please consider reading, it’s my first ever real fanfic??

The night air was still, clinging close to the skin, but hummed with insects, vibrant lights blinking in between the monochrome blue of moonlight. Monolithic statues of halla greeted the couple as they approached the waterfall, keeping quiet in only the way a pair anxious to say everything can be. Al’serna held on to Solas’ hand loosely, gathering in the scene, wondering at each minutia presented to her. It was easy for her to pay so little attention to the elf beside her, or that’s how it seemed to Solas who was gripping on more tightly, occupied with Al’serna’s freckled, glowing face though she hadn’t noticed.

They drew to the edge of the water, stopping with only inches between their feet and the edge of the lake’s slow ebb. Al’serna’s attention was completely on Solas now and his heartbeat quickened. There was so much love in her face, so much comfort that he couldn’t look away from. She would understand. No one else would get it-- how could they when the world was built from soulless dirt, spiteful, brutish and short. But her… he knew if he could just explain it all, she would understand. he was justified. She was different, special like no one else and their love would endure no matter the cost.

The silence stretched between Al’serna’s lovingly inquisitive face and Solas’ caught breath. “There is something I must tell you Vhenan. It is a terrible truth to bear to you, but I do it with love.”

The silence turned expectant, Al’serna’s brow furrowing slightly in confusion, but smiling still. “The Vallaslin are not as you believe them to be.” Al’serna’s face fell slightly and Solas’ words sped slightly to explain, “They are slave markings, from long ago, in the times when the Elves oppressed their own kind. They are a terrible mark of a history misappropriated”

Quiet again. Bouts of it seemed to Solas to be even more terrible than his memories, and now he had the crestfallen face of his beloved in front of him to salt the wounds.

“Solas...but how do you...How can that be? Is it just another thing the Dalish got wrong? Another way we’ve destroyed ourselves and glorified the remains?” Her eyes squinted from restraint, voice catching. It was hard to see her this way, when he could give her a solution…

“I believe you, Solas, I just don’t know how we can do anything else. If we’ve gotten this wrong, what else have we lost. What has history robbed us of? I can’t--” The words tumbled out of her mouth, unable to stop them.

A kiss. Silence again, hanging off an abridged word. He had resolved himself. The future was set but there was one thing left. He pulled away, keeping his hand in hers, gently touching her face with the other.

“Vhenan, I can...remove the Vallaslin if you would like. I know a spell. You are so beautiful, and shouldn’t be forced to bear it.”

Al’serna touched her face where the branch-like tattoos textured her cheeks. It hadn’t even seemed like an option, but knowing now, it seemed like it was the only one. She struggled to move. Solas reached out a hand, hoping to reassure, but the touch startled her. He hastened to withdraw his hand but froze. Al’serna looked him in the eye, giving a single, decisive nod, pulling his other hand toward her face.

“If this is how it must be, then it must be,” she said, her voice resolute.

Solas returned the nod, heart swelling with ache and hastily patched wounds. His hands pressed forward calling out the old magic to erase her distress. He had to help. This was the way. A bluish glow surrounded Al’serna’s face, catching the wayward hairs that had slipped around her cheeks, tingling her skin but not painfully as she had imagined the process to be. The swell of power threaded through his fingertips, into his palms and sizzled out at his wrists. It was done.

Solas pulled away, feeling the old righteousness lost to the years “You are so beautiful, and I know this might be difficult but...we can make it right.”

The confused look returned to Al’serna’s face, but Solas smiled, the way he always did when he was indulging her disorientation. “There is a way… for us to right these wrongs. Your people mourn what has been lost, but they do not understand it completely.The world mistreats elves as the oppressed who have lost everything. History reads throughout the fade of the lines of destruction, dominos falling one after another from the Halls of Arlathan. But I, we, can fix it Vhenan.” “Solas...how could we possibly…?” Her head tilted, trying to understand

“The rift was just an accident, but the destruction of the elves was wrought by the creation of the veil. It was my terrible creation but I want to undo it all. I can rip down the barrier that separates us all, I can restore elves as they were. Free them and all the wonders they knew. The world as it is now will burn away, but it can be built anew-- more perfect than it ever was. We can rinse away the dirt of this world! We can make things right, make the oppressors of this world pay, end the genocide of magic. Burn the world away and build it up again!” His voice grew stronger, more intense, leaning down into her space. What Al’serna could only guess was nervousness and haste crept at the edges of his words.

Al’serna let go of Solas’ hand, putting on foot back in reflexive defence. “How could we do that?” She was hesitant, frightened. “Destroy all of those people...people who have only had the sin of being born.” Her face scrunched up, thinking of the people of Skyhold, Haven.

“You’re not listening, Vhenan.” A quick, almost forced smile “We may lose some, but we have so much more to gain. I must restore my people, your people, but I can not do it alone. I love you, but you must see this world for what it is!”

“Solas, we can not take the lives of the world in our hands. How could any one person even have that much power? The inquisition has taken some grand steps, but we never chose the fates of innocent lives. Lives uninvolved with us! We can not choose who lives and dies. You’re not a god, Solas… We are not special or different. Please, be with me as I am, as we are…” She extended her hand again, hoping to draw him towards her now.

Solas drew back in equal measures, confused and feeling a knot of anger in his stomach. So this is how it would be.

“Very well, I see that things should be conducted in a more appropriate way. I understand now.” His words clipped “Thank you for accompanying me this night.” He sharply turned, walking stiffly away through the wooded path that led them there.

Al’serna stood alone by the water, bewildered and hurt. Feeling more vulnerable and naked than when the evening began, and so much lonelier.

~~~

In the two years since that night in Crestwood, Solas had refused to discuss what had transpired between them and instead flung himself fully into the inquisition’s quest. When Al’serna tried to pry, though it was difficult for her to muster the courage, she was always deflected by assurances of “Things are the way they are.” and “There’s nothing to worry about.” She tried to forget the terrible night that transpired, but the ache where “no” had seemed to evict his love of her from his heart was hard to erase and twinges of anger crept their way in.

It had been two years since Corypheus had been defeated. Two years since the world had been quote “saved.” The long fights and new scars colored Al’serna’s manner and appearance. She had been left with more than one gap in her life. Solas had disappeared, leaving Al’serna for the second time. And with the loss of real mission, there was a sense of ennui that lingered in the air around her in the moments she had alone. She was still confused and the hurt lingered from the night in Crestwood, but she knew that the things she said were right.

Now it seemed she had said them again almost verbatim to the panel of grimacing politicians at the Winter Palace with even less traction. The entire exalted council was a disaster as far as she was concerned. She wasn’t a politician like Josephine and hardly made it as inquisitor but doing what was right motivated her on. Qunari had been found in the palace carrying explosives and through stumbling into the situation, Al’serna had managed to start unravelling an entire invasion.

Now she was chasing leads, barely able to hold onto the edges. Her mark had begun to explode. She wondered if magic always burned this much to mages or if she was just the lucky one. The green pulse had gotten stronger as the investigation had gone on. Now, as she ran toward the eluvian through which Viddasala, the leader of the invasion, and her army had passed, it’s heartbeat throb quickened. Her hand struggled to hold her sword, almost her body size, through the pain. She paused at the steps to the Eluvian, catching her breath between flares, trying to gather what was left of her energy. She turned her head to look behind her. The worried and determined faces of her friends nodded, and she focussed all her energy on pacing forward into the mirror, its glass like miasma rippling over her body and sealing up behind her.

Separated from her companions, she focused herself on moving forward. Around her were what looked like...statues? Except they were too lifelike, far too detailed, and they bore a striking resemblance to the enemies she had faced only moments before. In the distance she could hear voices, echoing off the stone walls that surrounded the outcropping. Steps stretched out in front of her. Grand, wide steps that she climbed as fast as she could.

At the top Viddasala was engaged in a heated argument with...someone. As Al’serna mounted the last step, Viddasala reach out as if to attack but in a moment she was turned to the same rocky granite as the beings before. Beyond her now statue-like form a figure looked out over the edge of the grassy platform. Pensive and dressed in armour unlike anything Al’serna had seen.

“Solas…?” Al’serna was breathless, both from the pain seeping into every inch of her body and the person standing there who had become almost like myth to her.

His face snapped into her direction, contorting into despair and love and pain. He appeared staggered, not expecting what seemed like a ghost to him.

“Vhenan…” He recomposed himself, bring his chin up and his posture upright.

“Solas, what are you doing here? How can you--”

“There is so much I was not ready for you to see or know, but it seems events have conspired to push us again toward this resolution.” He began to approach her “Now you can join me.”

“What..what are you talking about? You’ve been gone so long. How could you possible show up now, in all of this?” Her words were more bitter than she realized.

“Vhenan, everything I have done has been for you. For us.” He drew his way over, slowly, from across the platform. “Before, all that long time ago, I realized you would not allow this world to be rended for what it is. You rejected everything I meant to stand for, like trash. You had been made blind. You rejected me and my goals, but then I realized it wasn’t truly you. I came to understand that this world is what is keeping us apart. It is what is keeping you in chains. I am here to set you free my love.” He leaned down towards her, much closer now, arms outstretched not to embrace,but in a general gesture of benevolence.

“I slept for many years, a lasting uthenera from my mistakes long ago and awoke to find this world a shadow, blank and hollow. Then you found your way into all of it. You showed me that things can be changed, you said yourself that if things went wrong then you just had to try again.” His arms were outstretched now, a lecturing stance. “In our time together you opened my heart, loosened all the things that I once fought for, but then you rejected it! You rejected all of it as if it were not even worthy of thinking about. But now, now I know what I have to do, if you will not have me in this world, in the flames of the veil you will.” He grasped her glowing hand. Al’serna tried to remain emotionless, her hand shaking slightly, betraying her. This was not Solas. It...couldn’t be.

“Solas… This, this isn’t right. You shouldn’t be here. You can’t change the world anymore than I can--”

“Vhenan, I can. You do not listen. What all the qunari called me? A servant of Fen’harel? I am so much more than that. Think long and hard about all of it. All the strange moments, the coincidences, the paintings, murals, tapestries that led you here.”

“You, you’re Fen’harel?” Al’serna’s voice grew slightly panicked. Her eyes widened and she tried to withdraw her hand.

Solas’ grip tightened, leaning toward her again “You see vhenan! The orb that gave you your mark was once mine. It’s power was meant to be granted to me to tear down the veil! But you have it now, and we can use it together to rip apart everything that has held this world in shackles.” His eyes looked down at her glowing hand, “The mark has been growing larger, has it not?”

Al’serna could only manage to get out a nod, head swimming with pain and confusion.

“The inquisition was only the first step, it got to be so much more than I thought, but now that its work has been ended, all I must do now is restore the world to the way it was before and you will see!”

“Solas… I can’t, I can’t let you do this.” She gasped slightly as another pulse from the mark wracked her body.

“Don’t give up on me now, vhenan. The veilfire of this world is coming to an end but you must understand there I things that must be done first. Come with me, vhenan. Come with me and help make this world right the way it was. Destroy all this nightmarish, petty bickering. Humans and qunari...what have they ever caused on this world besides suffering? Together we can rejoice at a new age, a purer more beautiful world! Ma halani.” His voice was almost pleading now, frantic.

She winced as she straightened herself, looking him in the eye. “I will stop you.” She yanked her hands back “This is not right and you are not what I thought you were. If all you can see is this golden past, then I will stop you at any cost. Your solution is brutal and cold. None of these people deserve to die.”

A massive burst of magic surged from the mark, bringing Al’serna to her knees, struggling for breath. In front of her, Solas knelt down, grabbing her arm.

“Then vhenan,” he said, bitterness dripping from his words, “Try and stop me. And in the ashes of tomorrow, then you will see.”

An explosion of light filled the air, nearly blinding her as his grip tightened on her hand. The mark popped and sizzled as the magic grew greater and greater around her. Her skin felt the familiar tingle of her memories in crestwood, then she couldn’t feel anything. Solas stood up sharply, turning away from her.

“I will finish what was started, alone if I must. And when it is done, you will see.” His words had palpable power and rage behind them.

“Ar lasa mala revas” were the last words Al’serna heard, looking down to see the stump where her arm had been before. Her mouth opened into one last scream, angry and heartbroken, as Solas passed again into the Eluvian and her vision faded to black.

(@bearlytolerable​)

[titleknown]

TITLEWave Character Re-Imaginings...

Welp, in the tradition of @dimetrodone I decided I might as well write up copyrighted fictional characters as how they’d exist in my TITLEWave setting.

But, as both a challenge and a proof-of-why-it-needs-to-happen, I’ll be restricting it to copyrighted characters from 1960 and earlier ala my idea of 56 or Bust. Because WHY THE HECK NOT?!

Past the break, because this is gettin loooooong.

Astro Boy- Essentially one of the earliest robots establishing a lot of the groundwork both AI and construction-wise for the androids of TITLEWave, despite his dubious origins as the product of a deranged scientist trying to recreate his lost son Astro’s ended up kind of an icon. So much of what he’s done laid the groundwork for what few rights robots had in this setting, and there’s even some minor religions amongst synthetics in this setting in his name

But, when the world needed him, he vanished. And robot rights backslid, often attributed in large part to a world without his influence. Only to reappear decades later, with no memory of where he had been; except for being trapped in some strange; dark place. And now, having upgraded thanks to years of interest on a bank account set up under his long-dead adoptive father’s name, he works as he always has to try to set the world right, to bring the balance between machines and humans.

Of course, while there are many who profit off the exploitation of sentient machines and present him with a handshake in front but a dagger behind their backs, there are also plenty of new allies for Astro, given the fact that he’s a living legend amongst the robotic community, and there’re a lot of people who’ve been inspired to their own heroism by him

Godzilla- Essentially created less from acts of massive war violence as much as years of societal violence, on a huge New Jersey industrial company town dedicated to the repurposing of nuclear materials and chemical waste into useful products, in a process both grueling; dehumanising and lethally toxic for those on the bottom and a nightmare of crunchtime working conditions for those doing the engineering/research. Said process became essentially automated more and more; leaving more and more people out of work and creating a massive underclass; located right by the heavily polluted coastline.

The problem started when they tried to “purge” said underclass, at first via subtler means by neglect cranking up the pollution levels to unsustainable limits, then by more blatant means, such as experimental toxins and random police experimental-gassings. And, this further added to the primordial nightmare-soup to the point where company scientist Doctor Serizawa tried to raise the alarm about the unsettling; violent biological mutations his research team found in there. To no avail. And then, one night, during the largest gassing raids in historyu; The Midway Street Massacre, the creature came.

Serizawa did eventually destroy it with the Oxygen Destroyer, and sacrifice himself to do so, though millions of lives were lost including several of the company’s highest executives. Curiously, most of the attacks by the creature were centered on the wealthiest areas of the city, much to their chagrin.

But, the story diverges from the fact that, when company scientists came to inspect things, they found the creature’s flesh was growing back onto its bones. And, then they had the alledgedly-brilliant idea to bring it onto land and cyborgize the regeneration creature. This went as well as you’d expect.

The escaped creature now wanders the country, less vicious than its original appearance and now treated more like a natural disaster than a kill-this-abomination-now-level threat. One wonders what goes through its head. Those who have made mental contact with it seem to indicate a creature that is lonely, and in pain. Because like those others living in where it was created, it too is a victim in its own way.

And, there are worrying signs from that original company, because not only do they still posess tissue samples of the creature’s cells, but also there are whispers of whole new strains of creatures they found mutated from the results of the Oxygen Destroyer….

Gandalf/Sauron- A wandering robot that looks superficially like some cheap carnival animatronic of an old man, only to reveal incredibly powerful technology beneath his surface; if it even is technology as we know it. He’s a wise mentor-type to heroic types he finds, but he has an agenda of his own as well.

It involves stopping a similar; but more powerful machine called Sauron, whose original body was destroyed, but who lives on in fragments of his corpus and AI cores; in particular one TITLE-like divice simply known as The Ring.

Nobody really knows where they came from, when asked Gandalf says he simply answers to “A higher authority”

Rick Blaine- Or, rather, Rikki Blaine. Formerly an uninvolved bystander for years running her bar in a place that was essentially a waypoint for those trying to escape from various nightmarish megacorp-owned city states, she finally was spurred to involvement after an old flame of his came with her leftist freedom-fighter husband, which ultimately ended not only in heris aiding in their escape; but also him finding a reason to live; and skimming off a high-level megacorp official to her cause too.

Now she runs an organization called the “Casablanca Foundation” to help people escape not just from Megacorp-states but also the places that are megacorp-states in all but name; or even just generally bad situations. If you know who to call, you can find her.

Bugs Bunny- Called by many nicknames including “the abortion of this age” and “the rough beast Yeats spoke of,” nobody knows where the fuck Bugs Bunnycame from. The best guess of most is that it’s a confluence of multiple biological and parapsychological factors ending up affecting one normal North American rabbit. It is also theorized they came from Brooklyn due to their distinctive accent.

Bugs is essentially an incredibly powerful humanoid lapine organism, unable to permanently die even when flattened; exploded; burned; eaten; chopped to bits; ectcetera, and with remarkable abilities of mental power despite his screwball attitude towards life; with the ability to defy the laws of physics without conscious thought and bar-none high-level abilities of spacial reasoning and behavioral prediction. And able to disguise themselves better than you’d think.

Originally they were much more terrifyingly chaotic, but nowadays they have rules they seem to follow. Namely; no retribution unless either they are provoked or somebody they like gets hurt and no killing. Other than that, if you piss them off there will be hell to pay.

Though, if you can get on their good side (Which is easier than most people think) they can be a jovial; steadfast friend (Albeit one with an often overly-massive ego with a tendency to be overly cocky and quick to fight) and a powerful ally. And, as you can guess by my use of pronouns, they happen to be genderfluid. Because Bugs Bunny

Superman- Despite a more neon 80s-tacular costume, complete with badass bounty-hunter-y mask, he’s still fundamentally Superman, helping people against problems too great for mortal people. He’s the only “proper” superhero in this setting in fact; and while everyone wonders what his real agenda is, nobody suspects that he’s just as genuine as he seems, a Jewish guy from the sticks who happened to be found in a crashed rocketship by a couple of farmers who’s trying to bring Tikkum Olam to the world. Though his reporting is more for television, he still works to report the news of the world at the Daily Star webcast.

Of course, there are a few differences. Like the fact that underneath his human appearance is an anatomy that is far off from human, with him only looking human thanks to the “rebirthing machine” in that original ship that altered him; and in fact perhaps other Kryptonians still out there; into the appearance of the planet’s dominant species.

And, there’s also the fact; with the research into the strange crystal technology linked to his planet and its lethally radioactive corrupted form known as Kryptonite, he’s found that they weren’t quite restricted to one planet. In fact, they were an interplanetary civilization, leaping across solar systems. And then, all at once, they were destroyed. But he’s never been able to find an answer as to by who or by what, or why seemingly relatively so relatively few of them were able to escape. And the few leads bring up disquieting possibilities...

You may ask, why not make expies just like these descriptions?

And I probably will do that in the future with these ideas. But; thing is; there’s power in legacies. There’s power in Superman being a shining neon light in this vicious future, there’s power in Astro Boy coming to set right what has fallen apart in his absence, there is power in Godzilla as the wrath of societal violence, and so-on.

And, while I agree with the truth that even if things are public domain they need to be treated with respect, that’s an argument I’d say for the public domain rather than against it.

Also, if you want to support further content like this, maybe throw a few bucks my way on my Patreon! This was actually decided from two ideas via a poll for those five-dollar donors, and there’ll probably be more in the future...

[definitionpaper1-blog]

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley essay

Essay Topic:\n\nAn start out to identificate the substantial goliath of the new: Viktor Frankenstein or his putz.\n\nEssay Questions:\n\nWho is the material colossus of the novel: Viktor Frankenstein or his instru manpowert?\n\nWhat was the intent of the giant star worry?\n\nWhat pr tied(p)ingted Viktor Frankenstein from taking right for his actions?\n\nThesis Statement:\n\n lord Frankenstein would gull never born(p)-again his wight into a titan if he knew how to sleep with and outlet indebtedness for the unitarys we bring to this populace.\n\n \nFrankenstein by bloody shame S collieryey essay\n\n \n\n innovation: Mary Shelleys Frankenstein is a book with a doubtful message that touches to the truly snapper. This message implies that the reader ordain non see the story unaccompanied from the perspective of the narrator scarce also reveal m both hidden opinions and form a personal interpretation of the novel. unriv entirelyed of its primary statements is that no whiz is born a the Tempter and a behemoth is created end-to-end socialization, and the process of socialization starts from the hitting with the agent. It is master copy Frankenstein that could not educate the responsibility for his brute and was not able to take handle of his child. self-esteem and vanity were the qualities that directed maestro Frankenstein to his discovery of life: ...So a lot has been done, exclaimed the soul of Frankenstein- more, far more, will I achieve: treading in the steps already marked, I will pioneer a new focus, explore unkn proclaim powers, and unfold to the universe the deepest mysteries of fundament[p.47]. He could not bonk with this discovery and manifestly neglected it. The calamity of Victor Frankenstein and the tragedy of his peter is the same it is the tragedy of loneliness and confronting the world, trying to expose a place in it and deserve mortals bed. The wolf would have never become a nut if it got the love it strived for. Victor Frankenstein would have never converted his creature into a junky if he knew how to love and take responsibility for the ones we bring to this world.\n\nAccording to Mary Shelleys Frankenstein the creature becomes a genuinely monster by means of committing a murder. It becomes a manslayer whose main goal is to revenge. The creature avenges for having been abandoned by his creator and left in all alone in the hostile world that cannot let him simply comprise and have somebody to love. Obviously, the creature did not begin its life as a monster entirely became one later Victor Frankenstein rejected it and refused to progress to that he has to take c ar of this creature from now and forever and be responsible. The creature was born a defenseless existence into the world. It was simply born and attempt to see the person who make him come, the one who needed him and love him. But when it saw the world did not see anybody who at least(prenomin al) gave him an arm to refuse up. Victor Frankenstein wishinged to obligate life to a creature, but when he managed to do it the debaucher of the dream vanished, and breathless villainy and repel filled [his] emotional state[p.57]. He was scared of what he had created and ran off from his creature, leaving it all alone and hurt. Victor Frankenstein make the set-back step into devising the animal a real monster by runway away from it, not even welcoming it into this world. Victor ran away for the animal was ugly, but the marionette did not have any cruel intentions for world as a newborn it was evil-free. The fauna did not do anything bad. tout ensemble it did was it came into the world, or it would be more honest to elaborate that it did not come on its own will but was brought to life. He came looking for love and the first thing he met was rejection. How does it step for any living worldness to be rejected?\n\nThe wildcat ran away and tried to frolic to other nation. It did not want anything bad but simply attention and support. until now, his appearance do people feel disgust and everybody tried to hurt him. The beast could not to a lower placestand why it was handle so cruelly and suffered so much. It was completely uninvolved and nobody cared for this living being who wanted to be love so desperately! such suffering and constant refection dour the Creature into a real monster and the revengeful murderer of little William. The creature was not born a monster but the pooh-pooh of men made him one. Everyone he turn to hated him, hated for nothing. And when he turned to Frankenstein begging for a mate he hear the words that killed the last gains of look forward to in the depth of his heart: Devil ... do you withstand approach me? ... Be gone, miserable insect! or rather, hobble that I whitethorn walk you to dust! ... Abhorred monster! hellion that thou art! the tortures of hell are too batty a vengeance for thy crimes. reprehensible devil! you reproach me with your institution; come on then, that I may extinguish the sparkle which I so negligently bestowed[p.68]. The Creature had nobody to embody for and it was the point when revenge started being the essence of his life. He did not need people anymore he unsloped became what they everlastingly believed him to be a monster. It is assertable neither to say that the Creature was a monster from the very beginning nor accuse the Creature of anything for all it did it appeared into this world. The Creature came with a pure heart and did not meet any love or at least sympathy from people, including his very creator. The Creature was so unhappy and became a monster only because everyone treated the Creature as if they were subjective monsters that have no feelings at all.\n\nConclusion: The Creature is not a real monster. It is just a victim. Just standardised Victor is the victim of the mistakes his parents did, and the Creature is a victim o f Victors ill learning of reality. Its like an iceberg we see only the top, merely the biggest part of it stays under the wet. The top is Victors creating a monster that killed all his dearly loved people and what we see under the water - is real reason of things: the composure of people and the nature to judge everything basing on the appearance without even trying to look inside. Nevertheless there is something that can be called a genuine monster without any doubt - it is the scorn and the blindness of people. Blindness to mistakes, to the unhinge of other people, even to love What the reader learns from this book is that things are not always the way they appear to be. And what seems terrifying may turn out to be just the pain of someones heart, just like the pain of the creature that was conception to be a monster and not being one from the begging became one at the end.If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Custom essay writing service. Fr ee essay/order revisions. Essays of any complexity! Courseworks, term papers, research papers. 100% confidential! Homework live help. Custom Essay Order is available 24/7!