#like to be clear i want them to suffer its the natural conclusion of the choices they make from a thematic and character perspective

[raayllum]

Immortality & Longevity in TDP

Because season 7 brought up some very interesting Threads to contrast with the series' previous sentiments on immortality / ridiculously long lifespans. So let's go.

Those Who Naturally Live Forever(-ish)

There are three main camps of characters who experience longevity in TDP.

Those who experience it naturally, but can still die (the Archdragons, some elves)

Those who acquire it through dark magic means

Those who cannot permanently die (the First Elves, Aaravos)

I want to talk about the Group Number One first, because it includes the most characters and was the basis for this meta. Besides Lujanne and Akiyu, we don't know too many elves who have lived for hundreds of plus years, although it wouldn't surprise me if Aditi did. Lujanne and Akiyu are both mages as well, with Lujanne living at the most powerful concentration of Moon magic in the world, so that could be part of the reason why she's lived so long, and Tidebound elves (as Finnegrin had Sea Legs' sister for 40+ years) just naturally live much longer than other types of elves (Moonshadow, Sunfire) as far as we know.

The Archdragons themselves also don't talk much about the length of their lives, since it's a species-shared trait and so second nature to them. However, whenever they do talk about it, we get a very clear picture:

It's not exactly... positive. Now, some of this is because of their mental states. Sol Regem lost his beloved mate a thousand years ago, lost his position as the king of the dragons, and been effectively cut off from Xadia's political sphere / the other archdragons for a long time. Rex Igneous is similarly isolated (though it seems more self-inflicted) and we know he had a previous falling out with Avizandum (presumably over Zubeia). We also see Zubeia grow increasingly listless both times she falls ill / almost loses her family (S3, 5x09) so it seems that despite being very rare and accordingly isolationist, Archdragons don't tend to do well alone and without families (understandably).

But the verdict seemingly from at least 2/4ish known archdragons is that

In this way, the Archdragons' view of their quasi-immortality isn't that different from how Aaravos views his literal one:

The stars have never smiled upon their creations. This world was made by cruel, unfeeling hands. It is an instrument of pain, of torment. To exist within this world is to suffer. Even death is no reprieve.

So what about the characters who disagree to the point of doing terrible things so that they can exist forever?

Kpp'ar and Kim'Dael (Crafted Immortality)

Although there's only two characters in the "dark magic induced immortality" category, they paint two such completely different pictures that, in many ways, it shows the full spectrum of just how one can achieve an unnatural immortality.

On the one hand, we have Kim'Dael, who takes dark magic's canonically to its long believed natural conclusion of cannibalism. Kim'Dael takes parts (blood) from magical creatures (in this case, elves) and consumes it to enhance her own abilities and her livelihood. This doesn't always mean fully killing and draining someone, but often can (Bloodmoon Huntress) with multiple individuals / sometimes whole families at a time as she must experience semi-regular rejuvenation; it is unknown if she needs to eat or consume anything else in her day-to-day life.

Her magic use was also confirmed to be a form of dark magic in this interview:

the way that she does, is beyond primal magic. She’s found ways through dark magic to extend her primal moon powers. It’s very evil how she is able to do what she does and extend her life

Despite the dragons who don't have to work to be immortal being far more despondent about their long, long lives, it's not hard to think of reasons why Kim'Dael would want to be immortal. Death is a scary unknown, she (like Finnegrin) is out of tune with her primal knowingness on a fundamental level, and she can do so without harm to herself. Like most dark mages we've seen, her dark magic use requires using and taking from the people around her more, accordingly, than it's taking from her. She takes from others to give herself power: dark magic 101.

Kpp'Ar's search for immortality is way fucking weirder, IMO. It's not necessarily that dark mages, or dark magic, never uses the caster's body for spells. It inherently saps energy (hence the white streaks, nosebleeds, collapsing, etc) and drains life from the body; each spell harms the caster in at least a small way. It's also not like we've never seen a dark mage use their own body parts for a spell; Claudia uses and drinks her own blood mixed into the pentapus ink in 5x09, and Viren mutilates his own heart in 6x08 rather than use someone else's.

It's just, that if Kim'Dael has a way to chase immortality that does mean using somebody else's body... why on earth would you use your own?

It seems that before his change of heart, Kpp'Ar was experimenting with one of the darkest of all magics. A way of extending life. Indefinitely. A horrible and strange kind of immortality. The ancient and disturbing practice of self-eating.

Now, some of this may come down to access or skillset. Presumably Kim'Dael could drink human blood and use it for her spells, since the arcanum of the elf she's drinking from doesn't seem to matter. However, even if you can use human blood, Kpp'Ar at this point was older and used a cane (if we assume this was a later in life pursuit, and not over decades); he likely wasn't going to be able to kidnap and haul back anyone but children back to Puzzle House, and while we know he's willing to sacrifice children (6x06) it's not canonically clear if he's willing to use them.

Either way, we know Kpp'Ar was pursuing immortality as well as the location of the Garden of Innocents concurrently. We don't know if this was interrelated, but we do know that unicorns are connected to the Star arcanum, which is presumably what makes First Elves immortal-ish so... maybe? It's not clear why Kpp'Ar would want immortality in general, especially that type of immortality, for himself, but clearly there will be a reason. It could be that he wanted to transfer it to someone else (Soren) and gave up, but that's not fundamentally different than what Kim'Dael does, so... again: why himself?

(Arc 3 come home to me)

Cannot Die

Last but not least, we have Aaravos + the other First Elves in the 'cannot die' category, except when they can (Leola). I've written more before about how... odd the info surrounding what the Cosmic Council can and cannot do and what we may be missing, for lack of a better term. Quick rundown:

The Cosmic Council can execute Startouch elves. Aaravos did not have enough power to stop them. (*At the time of Leola's death, as things may have changed since then)

Aaravos seems to be utterly unconcerned that the Cosmic Council conceivably could, if they became aware of his actions, execute him in the same manner. Aaravos does not seem to care if they notice, given that he asks, "Are you watching?" in 7x08.

When Aaravos' mortal form (like the one Leola had/used on earth) is destroyed in 7x09, there are noticeable visual differences to the destruction of his daughter's.

Aaravos seems to want to bring the First Elves into "this world" as it is an instrument of pain that begets only suffering, and "I want them to suffer."

We also know that Aaravos believes the First Elves don't care about / love their creations at all, so destroying the earth can't be the endgame goal. We also know that something is keeping Aaravos from accessing/attacking them, otherwise he would've done so before being imprisoned.

Presumably, something in the interim has changed with either 1) Aaravos is no longer able to die or 2) He has found a way to be able to kill the other First Elves if they went after him, rather than the other way around. Potentially dark magic is the road to get there, or a form of ancient magic the First Elves tried to keep hidden that became the basis for dark magic.

Either way, we know that the First Elves are able to end an otherwise truly immortal being's existence permanently (at least so far) and that it's a power at one point Aaravos did/does not have. I'll be curious to see what we learn about all of this and self-eating in the future.

[wackywatchdotcom]

what intrigues me abt caines dynamic w the rest of the cast is the way that none of them seem to understand why he is the way he is. like not in the comedic sense but how they dont seem to have a clear concept of his motivations or anything of that sort

we havent seen toooo much of it. but we have seen how pomni, zooble, jax, ragatha, and gangle view him and its so fascinating

pomni is like. she doesnt understand what hes doing but seems to view his actions as malicious in some way. i dont think she sees him as a 'mean' person but with how she says she thinks he wants her to suffer its very illuminating of how she sees him as someone who wants all of them to hurt. i dont think she knows why he would, but its the only conclusion shes got. it also speaks to her distrusting nature that upon being hurt by him her first thought is that its an intentional decision to harm her, and unfortunately for caine she hasnt actually been given much of a reason to think he feels otherwise. i dont know how she thinks caine feels about them but its clear to me how she views his goals and hobbies for lack of a better term

zooble doesnt trust him. they find him to be annoying but more significant is that they KNOW he likes them all. it adds an interesting tone to how they see him, that they specifically say that whats 'holding caine back' is that he 'likes [them]', which on one hand is them interpretting caines actions as being done from a place of liking the players, and that his actions are coming from a place of NOT hurting them, because he likes them (its interesting to note that they have participated in less adventures, so its unclear how much they know abt caines adventures firsthand). but on the other hand is implying that they think caines holding himself back at all. that there IS a desire or a capability to be cruel that theyre wary of. theyve also seen caine at his most vulnerable (in the show itself at least) and their comment, 'whose therapy session is this again?' implies theyre at least aware that this is caine having his own problems, though i dont think theyre comfortable safety-wise with how these problems affect them and the others. them asking caine 'why did you think i would like that?' speaks to the idea that they do think hes genuinely trying to appeal to the players, but they seem to find his lack of understanding of the players frustrating and unsafe for all of them

jax i think is pretty vague since most of his lines to caine are brief, and the most telling line he has abt caine is the only one we have. but he seems neutral on caine as a whole. caine is just a guy who makes things for them. he tries to entertain them and thats all jax really seems to be concerned with- whether his 'its not in his nature' line is reflective of him genuinely Believing that is smth i see debated often but i think no matter what, it conveys that jax Generally sees caine as someone who isnt malicious. hes not trying to hurt them, and whether or not he thinks caine is capable of hurting them is whats more vague. either way, jax doesnt seem to like or dislike caine

ragatha has very mimimal interactions with caine and not many lines about him, but i think her line in the pilot, 'thats just one of caines little adventures. theyre just something fun to do to, yknow, prevent us from going insane,' is extremely telling of how she sees caine. of all of them, she seems to have the most positive view of caine, since she interprets his actions as an active attempt to stave off abstraction in the players. whether or not she thinks caine is acting from a place of wanting to stop disruptions or if he wants to ensure the players arent doing as unwell as they could IS up for debate though. the way she talks about him in the pilot in general reads like she has some level of trust in him, but it seems like a surface level trust in him at the worst- she knows hes not malicious and knows he wants to help. she knows he can help her when shes jumbled. but its not clear if she Likes him. she seems to enjoy the adventures though (which, ill keep it brief so i dont derail this, but it honestly reads like a deliberate parallel writing-wise that the two of them both seem fond of distractions as an acceptable solution to a bad situation- if her assessment of Why he makes the adventures is anything to go by)

gangle is harder to read on this front, as she has way less lines about him, though she does have multiple notable interactions with him in ep 4, in the way of her seeming genuinely enthusiastic about his adventure (it doesnt seem completely directed at him, but she seems genuinely a bit happy about his praise of her leadership skills). when she calls him it doesnt convey TOO much i dont think but the way she talks to him and requests he make a punishment could imply she doesnt think hed normally make one, but also that hes not opposed to it, which is confusing in what it means about how she sees him but it feels important. her interaction with him at the end of the episode also doesnt convey much in this way (i feel like caine is not the main focus of most of that scene- which works for the scene and is good writing wise bc the scenes important for gangles writing of her own problems, but in terms of breaking down this idea it means im not sure this scene conveys much about how she sees him)

and then. i didnt mention kinger at the beginning specifically bc i dont think we have... almost any indicators of how he sees caine. he tells caine abt kaufmo in ep 1, suggests caine could find pomni in ep 2, doesnt address the thing pomni says abt caine in ep 3, and even his suggestion in ep 4 to sit out the adventure doesnt convey almost anything. the only throughline is that kinger sees caine as someone who can help them if they ask, but it doesnt convey any thoughts on what he thinks caines motivations are or his thoughts on caines actions. which frankly reads like a deliberate choice when kinger should be the one with the most history with caine

this post is long but i just am bery intrigued by this. i thinka ll the character dynamics are so deeply fascinating but with caine being the closest the show has to an antagonist (which of course is a loaded statement but i mean it in the writing sense and not in the 'antagonist is evil' way) it means that the way the characters see him holds a lot of weight. it conveys a lot abt them all with how they interpret the person that has (at least on the surface) the most control over the situation

[guiltycorp]

Damn i really want to know tf happened in the writing room of arcane s2. Some of the downgrades were inevitable due to the show's corporate limitations (not being able to progress the class war story in a meaningful way, having to tie things back to league of legends in terms of making playable characters more appealing to well, play... rip Mel and Viktor in particular), sure. But i still feel like it's even worse than that? There are so many bad decisions that i couldn't even start listing them all... the characters, plot, pacing, themes, it's just such a mess? Even the dialogue writing, it feels much more mm Marvel at its worst i suppose. What i am most bothered by is probably just the straight up harmful messaging so um... Cycles of violence and abuse can be broken by individual decisions to become a better person! Got nothing to do with systemic oppression, living conditions, mental health issues, you can just conveniently ignore aaall the social context, live laugh love and then things get better automatically yep, oppressors famously stop oppressing you when you show them that you're harmless and won't put up a fight anymore. Literally three out of three suicidal characters dying to redeem themselves? Not even in a tragic/cathartic way but in a bittersweet 'they finally atoned for their mistakes' way? Groundbreaking lmao. Romantic relationship between Vi and Caitlyn including no communication about their biggest fight, just conveniently skipping to sex and getting back together - would have loved that if it was framed as the unhealthy fucked up thing that it is, skipping over Vi's hurt and her background to once again become a cop, her girlfriend's direct underling at that (!) due to her not having any other support systems... But nope that was our cute lesbian romance wrapped up, a good thing all around, not concerning at all. Jayce telling Viktor that what he 'always admired about him' was his disability and his deadly disease (??? from a character who spent the whole s1 and first act of s2 desperately trying to help Viktor find a cure? sure) and that those imperfections don't need fixing, just wtf truly. Magic bullshit was also weird, some implications of 'natural magic is ok, but achieving that power through other means corrupts you into a crazy robot bitch or just wilts your trees i guess', but tbh it was written in such a weird and inconsistent way that we can skip this one... Yeah actually a lot of things were just such a mess that I feel silly pointing to specific moments or lines I didn't like, I mean duh, it barely makes sense as a story at all... I am happy we have s1 which comparatively was a masterpiece, and i also really enjoyed s2 act1, i truly believed it would lead somewhere good at the time, my mind still kind of cuts off the story at that point when i think about it, that WAS the open ending of the show to me (is it possible that there were rewrites? targeting act 2 and 3? idk, wishful thinking perhaps). Despite my extremely negative feelings about this season's conclusion i remain glad that so many people appreciate the show regardless, it is clear that there was STILL a lot of love in the process of its creation (although i'd argue that even some of the visual aspects of the show suffered in quality, once again i have to wonder about behind the scenes mood of it all) and i get very upset when i see creatives online despairing over reception of their projects even when i'm absolutely in the disgruntled crowd hahaha... ...however yeah, this wasn't great In a world that increasingly grows more and more right-wing politically... we really needed something different i think.

[4dkellysworld]

When suffering happens

When unpleasant things happen in life, in an effort to understand it and find peace, we (our egos) often either try to find reason and understand why something happened/is so or immediately jump to conclusions and label it, often linking it to our identity like "oh it's because I am _____" or "it's because I did/thought/felt _____ which caused this, I shouldn't have done that!" or "This always happens to me ugh!!!" yet I find this habit ends up causing more harm than good and it is this self-identification that then ends up causing further spiralling and a pattern of similar events later in the future.

M: Detach yourself from all that makes your mind restless. Renounce all that disturbs its peace. If you want peace, deserve it. Q: Surely everybody deserves peace. M: Those only deserve it, who don't disturb it. Q: In what way do I disturb peace? M: By being a slave to your desires and fears. Q: Even when they are justified? M: Emotional reactions, born of ignorance or inadvertence, are never justified. Seek a clear mind and a clean heart. All you need is to keep quietly alert, enquiring into the real nature of yourself. This is the only way to peace. Chapter 8: The Self Stands Beyond Mind - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj

Leave poor Vanessa alone and stop assigning her the responsibility and accountability of everything that the dream shows. The entire dream is all an expression of the Infinite Being, not hers (the ego) which she is just one more creation of. And it doesn't have to be your (the Self's/I AM's) dream anymore when you stop identifying with it.

This is why it's so important to let go of our ego, to let go of the unpleasant thoughts with indifference, reject any claim over them and detach any association with your I AM (the Self's identity) rather than intellectuallise what happened with the mind. You can cut it off and break the cycle right there.

Understanding this was truly the turning point that launched me into earnest and honest study of 4dbarbie's teachings and by extension, Lester Levenson and Nisargadatta Maharaj's teachings. I was just so sick of going through the same shit, being stuck in the trenches and going nowhere. At some point you're going to get so fed up that you just want to give it all up and not care about anything anymore.

The thing about nothing though is that it's the only thing that can take the shape of everything. 1

Isn't it so much more freeing to just say "fuck it all, it doesn't make sense and I don't care to think about it anymore. This isn't mine", let it go and move on?

Imagine you see a random couple out in public fighting about all their relationship problems openly. What goes through your head when that happens? For me, I go "phew yikes, I'm glad that's not me. Not my circus, not my monkeys. Not my problem", feel a sense of relief and gratefulness that it's not my burden to bear and move on with my day.

When nonsensical or unpleasant things happen in your life, treat it the same way you do when nonsensical or unpleasant things happen in your sleeping dreams for they are both I AM's imaginary creations. Just let it go, detach it from Self and move on - no matter what happens, it is not yours.

Important distinction: I am not saying to physically ignore your body and ego's needs, do what needs to be done but you (the Self) do not have to identify with it, you do not have to claim it as yours. You know it's not you and you are just observing everything, unaffected.

"When the mind is quiet, we come to know ourselves as the pure witness. We withdraw from the experience and its experiencer and stand apart in pure awareness, which is between and beyond the two. The personality, based on self-identification, on imagining oneself to be something: 'I am this, I am that', continues, but only as a part of the objective world. Its identification with the witness snaps." Chapter 6: Meditation - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj

Stop trying to find reason as you are only further sustaining its reality by doing that.

"By resisting evil, you merely strengthen it." Chapter 72: What is Pure, Unalloyed, Unattached is Real - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj "You may try to trace how a thing happens, but you cannot find out why a thing is as it is. A thing is as it is, because the universe is as it is". Chapter 4: Real World is Beyond The Mind - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj

Just let it go. Letting go is what gives ultimate peace and freedom.

Not yours, remember? Repeat. Not yours. You won't lose your mind, you'll only lose your misery. See this world and the body as not real first. What is true is only what I AM is identified with, right now this body which is not in that TV show (your desired reality). Correct this first by letting go of thinking it's you 2

Just let go of the ego, that’s how simple it is.

[haggishlyhagging]

For heterosexual couples, procreation and, more specifically, motherhood represent the last realm where, even among progressives, the "Nature" argument, which we have learned to distrust in almost every other circumstance, still calls the shots. We know that, down the centuries, the most bizarre— and most oppressive —theories have been justified by the "obvious and unquestionable" proof apparently furnished by "Nature." For example, in 1879, Gustave Le Bon confirmed that "The brains of many women are closer in size to those of gorillas than to the more developed brains of men. This inferiority is so evident that no one could gainsay it for a moment: only the degree of difference is worth any discussion." With time, the absurdity of this kind of thinking has become abundantly clear. These days, we avoid attributing any particular disposition or specific behavior to any physical feature. In progressive circles, for example, no one will tell gay and lesbian people that their sexual practices are problematic, that they are attracted to the wrong people and that their organs haven't been designed for use in this way; no one would ever venture: "Excuse me, but did you misread the manual? Nature actually says . . . ." And yet, as soon as were on the topic of women and babies, it's a free-for-all: the result is a carnival of biological Freudian banana skins, if I may put it this way. Suddenly you find yourself surrounded by fervent advocates of the very narrowest biological determinism.

They have a uterus: this is the truly irrefutable proof that women ought to have children, right? We appear not to have advanced an inch since the eighteenth century, when the entry for "Femme" ("Woman") in Diderot and d'Alembert's Encyclopedia comprised a description of a woman's physical appearance and the conclusion that "all these facts demonstrate that the purpose of women is to have children and to feed them." We continue to believe unshakeably that women are programmed to want to be mothers. In earlier times, this was put down to the independent volition of their uterus, a "formidable animal," "possessed with the desire to create children," "lively, resistant to reason, working in the interests of fearsome desires to dominate over all." The self-motivating womb has now relinquished its place in the collective imagination to that mysterious organ known as the "biological clock," which no X-ray has yet managed to locate, yet whose relentless ticking is easily detected by putting your ear to the belly of any woman between thirty-five and forty. "We are used to thinking about metaphors like 'the biological clock' as if they were not metaphors at all, but simply neutral descriptions of facts about the human body," observes essayist Moira Weigel. The term "biological clock" was first used to refer to women's fertility in 1978, in a Washington Post article titled "The Clock is Ticking for the Career Woman." In other words, this expression was an early harbinger of the imminent anti-feminist backlash, and its dazzlingly successful integration into the female anatomy makes it a unique phenomenon in the history of evolution—it would have given Darwin pause for thought. Since women's bodies give them the option of carrying a child, of course Nature would prefer that women also change the resulting infant's nappies, once born, that they attend all meetings with pediatricians and, while we're on the subject, that they mop the kitchen floor, do the washing-up and remember to buy loo roll for the next twenty-five years. This is known as "maternal instinct." Yes, Nature orders precisely this, and not, for example, that, in order to thank women for taking on the major task required for perpetuation of the species, society do its best to compensate them for the inconveniences they thereby suffer; nothing of the sort. If you thought that might make sense, you haven't really understood Nature.

-Mona Chollet, In Defense of Witches: The Legacy of the Witch Hunts and Why Women are Still on Trial

[bioethicists]

hey i'd really love it if you could say more about biopolitics? i hadn't heard that before and it seems fantastic.

😅 u guys humor me too much- these type of asks are like catnip for me i am rolling around on the floor

biopolitics was originally conceptualized by foucault in a series of lectures- the very simple explanation of it (which foucault scholars probably would feel doesn't do it justice) is that the state has a vested interest in creating citizens who are "healthy" (as defined by the state usually by military/work readiness) + reproducing more "healthy" citizens (in this way it often intersects with outright eugenics). people often refer to it as the politics of "making live + letting die" (necropolitics by achille mbembé is an incredible analysis of this second part, focused on colonial power's interest in determining who dies)

what this means is that, at its core, the state engages in programs to improve the "health" of the population not out of altruism but because it needs a supply of work-ready, combat-ready, reproduction-ready individuals. the concept of "health" is tied up in one's ability to perform labor in service of the state, so much so that disorder or the severity of disorder becomes defined by this ability. public health efforts center not on decreasing suffering but on restoring the population to a condition in which they can once again perform labor (including reproductive labor) + serve the greater needs of the state.

my friend cora at umadison did an excellent presentation on how the u.s evokes within "anti-obesity" campaigns a concern that "obesity" is a threat to military readiness. messaging concerning family planning/abortion are often engaged by the state to coerce certain ppl into having children + others NOT to, based on the idea of the Type of Citizen they want. on a deeper level, this haunts us from birth- were there programs to try to improve your mother's pregnancy? public school health surveys? scoliosis tests? presidential fitness tests? irt COVID-19, whose death was seen as acceptable + whose death was seen as worth preventing? was prioritizing a 'return to work ' an out-of-the-blue approach or a natural conclusion of a public health system structured around producing + maintaining a steady supply of labor? none of this is asserting that state public health intervention is inherently BAD, just that its core motivations are not altruistic but rather political (so it has no interest in expanding into a public health model where fitness to work/serve/birth is NOT seen as the marker of health).

a very cynical read of the opioid epidemic would be that the state is so heavily involved now because it is finally impacting individuals that they want to Make Live. harm reduction is reluctantly being adopted (thanks to the tireless work of incredible activists!) but only if it can fit into the framework of Making Them Live Until They Can Become Sober. sobriety is the unspoken end goal not because it reduces suffering but because it allows for workers. the truly liberatory logic of harm reduction, which focuses on autonomy + safety + reducing suffering, is antithetical to the motivations of a state which openly despises those who don't 'produce' proportionately to what they receive.

my interest is in reimagining medicine + the body + disability + suffering outside of this biopolitical framework by acknowledging that our very definitions of all of these things have been engraved in the public imagination with labor production in mind. i'm not interested in trying to create new state programs that are 'untouched' by biopolitics because that's impossible + i can still extract tangible benefits from it (for example, i got all my covid vaccines early + for free bcuz my labor was important enough for the state to invest in my life). the idea is to engage with these programs clear-eyed + willing to look at who we Make Live + who we Let Die. most importantly, we can find what lies outside it all + envision new ways of living

[aesolerin]

Did you ever hear about that digital presentation/lecture one of the Red Hook fellas gave on how they put together the game visually and inspirationally? (Fun Fact: Jester turned out the way he did because Bourassa hates the DnD Bard stereotype, lol) I'm mentioning this in particular because he went over Leper as an example in terms of symbolism incorporated into his design

(which, side tangent to that: Leper's blocky and metallic aesthetic was inspired by Iron Man! the more you know, lol)

This was put out onto YouTube before Red Hook made it fully clear DD2 was gonna be a thing, which made it all the more notable when people later realized that one of the pictures used on that slide was of Leper's DD2 character design. So, everything he was talking about here was likely with Leper's canon DD2 backstory in mind. This is important because:

One of the points Bourassa mentioned was the fact that Leper has a "broken sword for a broken man".

That by itself is already brutally sad, but rest assured! It gets worse if you think about it long enough. After all, do you remember when that happened in his backstory? If not, lemme stop being coy for a moment to help you in drawing some conclusions:

The Leper's sword broke in killing off his advisors.

It wasn't the diagnosis that got to him. Neither was it leaving his kingdom behind. It was in breaking the oath he made to himself that he would protect everyone in his kingdom. Because, treacherous or not, his advisors were still part of his kingdom. It was only a small handful of people, sure. And yes, it's true that they couldn't be trusted to take actions in good faith once he was gone. And it likely was the right thing to do, at the end of the day.

But justifications don't erase the stark truth that he murdered his own subjects in cold blood.

And THAT shattered him (and his sword) more than a simple diagnosis or self-exile ever could.

Because, the thing is: someone can believe that their actions were objectively the best possible option and justifiable, while considering those same actions subjectively horrifying and unforgivable. After all, murder is still murder no matter the motivation, and some folks deeply take that to heart.

~~~~~~

Of course, this is only true if I remembered that presentation correctly, as I haven't tried to look it up to verify it, lol. You got any thoughts on it, yourself? Assuming you hadn't already realized that on some level, of course - for all I know, you could have drawn this conclusion a long time ago and never brought it up because you thought it was obvious! xD

Or, on the other side of it, there's no reason you should feel the need to change how you characterize our fave Leper buddy, y'know? Though, imo, it's not particularly contradictory to how we normally characterize him. This is just another angle you could look at him from if you wanted to in your writing, shippy or otherwise!

(Though speaking of shipping: this creates another interesting level to think about Leper's dynamic with Jester, no?)

(Maybe Jester needs to get his king to forgive himself by comparing their past actions. If Baldwin finds nothing wrong with what Sarmenti did, which was spurred on by a much more selfish - if entirely sympathetic - motivation, why should Baldwin go about putting his own actions on a pedestal of guilt? Unless he's implying that he's supposed to be morally better than Jester, which I'm p sure both of them would hate to draw as a conclusion.)

(Or maybe Leper sees it as another way they can understand each other that others may not grasp. That while they may be stained by their past actions, it doesn't make the two of them inherently unlovable or deserving of suffering. It's a burden they can help each other bear due to their own personal experience with it.)

(Or maybe Jester is tired of all this masturbatory self-flagellating fuckery and would much rather he and Leper get down to something a bit more literal in its sexual nature. Wouldn't put it past the Silly fella)

thank you much for providing that link to the video! which i will in turn provide in full, because it is a very fun and thought-provoking talk overall, not just the Leper stuff!!

(and, as someone who's played lots of bards, ☹ [but i will point out i've never played one of those horny bards at least])

i do very much agree that retaliating and killing his traitorous advisors was a huge turning point for Leper, and a source of at least some degree of internal conflict for him.

was it a moment of freedom and liberation, finally justified in doing something about those poison-tongued sycophants?

was it a moment of horror and regret, killing treasonous-but-still-subjects of his?

was it a moment of resignation and cold calculation, defending himself against attackers seeking to kill him?

was it a moment of inevitability and hollowness, knowing something of this magnitude was bound to happen after his diagnosis?

some bits of all four? fluctuating day-by-day, nightmare-by-nightmare?

as Bourassa said, a broken sword for a broken man. no matter the literal golden facade he puts up, Leper is still a broken man looking for something as he battles the horrors of the Hamlet/the world. at least this is an unexpected connection he shares with Jester, right?

i will admit it's not something i've commented much on in my fics, as Jester's trauma is just so much more, but i certainly have thoughts!

way back in my first DD fic, Dreams, Jester notes that royal blood on their hands is something they share, and Leper smiles as he says “Hence the beauty I see in your bloody finale. Such cruelty and abuse should be responded to in kind."

in Bow, something about the assassination attempt seems to have severely fucked up the Veiled Emperor's sense of trust.

believe me friend, when it is finally revealed, i am going to have so much fun 😊

these are some wonderful(ly painful) thoughts you've shared, and again thank you for putting this talk on my radar!!

[cultkinkcoven]

Had a very intense and interesting session with Prince Cerberus today. We spoke at length about the principles of Death, the deathly realms and the power of Lady Death. He made his warnings very clear. Never should I abandon his side or disobey him in that place, or I will forever be lost in the infinite darkness. He then introduced me to her, and she immediately commented on my patronage to Lady Inanna, saying “this is far from the realm of your Goddess, her authority is abandoned here.”- basically making it loud and clear that I am in HER house and will be subject to HER laws.

The place was pitch black. The only sense that can be made is through the complete trust and guidance of the soul. There is no logic here. There are deep rivers of blood that constantly flow. However, even with that movement, the realm is extremely still and extremely quiet. Every living breath I took was extremely noticeable and loud. I felt very much like I was in a place I shouldn’t be, like I was doing something very wrong. It’s extremely easy to get lost there if I don’t keep my entire attention on following Cerberus. Looking around and snooping about is not advised. I can’t speak too much on the layout of the place, but I can say that there were multiple sets of gates that only Prince Cerberus could enter.

Death is a stern, absolute, but gentle energy. She is closer to us now than she has been in quite some time, and that is a little bit disheartening to think about. There is rampant war, genocide, and violence on this planet, especially now. She had no opinion on this, but stated that She was happy to offer a comfortable and soothing conclusion to so many chaotic and miserable lives. When she spoke, it was like the entire world spoke. When she was quiet, everything was quiet.

“I know not why it is in the nature of man to slaughter its brethren, I care not for the deeds of man. I am always here to guide these lost souls, to ensure that their flame is correctly snuffed and that their energy is correctly dispersed. In this infinite darkness, I am the last companion, the only companion, that can offer solace to these wandering creatures. I am peace. You��ve known my son, the holy gatekeeper, and seen his mighty dominance. He is my guardian, of which I am very proud, for he has contained the Dead, and refused the Living. You continue to harbour life here in this place, only through his guidance and my mercy. You may not return to this place under the authority of any other, for if you dare, you will be trapped here forever. Hear my words. As I dismiss you, you shall leave this place. You are not to look back nor hesitate, or I will keep you here, and you shall never leave.

Many before you have questioned my authority and the strict rules of my domain. You ask why I am cruel to the sick and the young? I am not cruel, nor violent or vengeful. I collect every being indiscriminately. You have always been promised to me. I do not harm, I deliver from suffering. I have seen every suicide, genocide, and unjust killing, and I have made them just. I have settled every impurity of every living creature, and it is I who will settle the Gods and the Earth and the Sea and the Heavens. All shall become mine. I am Mother. I am Death.”

She showed me a couple things that I will keep to myself, and as we moved through the realm She became more friendly, and even smiled at a few of my answers. She is fascinated with living creatures. She is extremely stern, but She obviously enjoys her role and having conversations with humans. We seemed to be on some kind of time limit, because after some time She looked to Cerberus and told us to leave. She said I did well, that made me feel really good.

There’s something very beautiful about the vulnerability that we experience with Death. She sees our most desperate moments, our inner child that just wants to be held, and despite all of our deeds, she holds us. Cerberus is the terrifying fall, the fear that comes with unknown destination of death. He is intense and dangerous, strong and chaotic, but his Lady Death is quiet and subtle.

Death didn’t feel cold and scary like I though it may have. It was comfortable. Serene and quiet. Like being cradled, held and cherished. Protected. I felt like I was curled up beneath a big warm blanket in a swaddle, innocent and pure as if I was still an infant in my mother’s womb. Nothing could harm me. I was safe. Consuming and whole, infinite, gentle, comforting darkness. Something about that is very satisfying.

I think we’re all going to be okay.

[yuhuozero]

NARUTO: THE SPECTATOR

01: The Arrival

"A Spectator, the audience of play, a person who watches the show, the observer of stage"

In the deepest part of the forest, an unusual occurrence is happening. With so much density of chakra that can now be seen with the naked eye, a boy aged between 9-10 appeared as if by magic! The sun shines even brighter as if illuminating the boy, the leaves flutter, the earth rumbles, the wind roars, and nature awakens as if rejoicing the arrival of the chosen one.

And a moment of silence, the boy opened his eyes, the dense chakra dispersed, the sun returned to its original brightness, the leaves stilled, the earth calmed, the roaring wind vanished, and nature slumber once more. And everything returns to normal as if nothing happens, as if nothing special arrives in this world.

Huh? Where am I? Everywhere I look, I see only trees, small trees, and big trees! A bird? Rock?

Where?

Help! Did I get kidnapped? Who? And for what?

And I remember a kid and... I died.

Sh*t, I'm sure, I died...

Where could I be? Hospital? (Surely not),Heaven? (I will gladly accept it, open arms!), or Hell?? (No way!), I need to find something—civilization or any information.

*****

In a large, open area, a burial ceremony is happening. Some people are digging with shovels, and some are carrying caskets to be buried.

"Cease you crying, Itama! A Shinobi must never show any weakness," a stern old man said to his own sons.

"But father," was immediately answered by one of his sons, to protect his youngest brother.

"Your weakness will get you killed! A path to a world that is free of battle is not easy to pave!" As the old man walked away, he added, "Sometimes sacrifice is needed for greater good. Raising one's children to become full-fledged is the sign of parents love!" 

Unaware of their knowledge, a boy aged 9–10 is observing them.

"Hashirama, Tobirama, Itama, and Butsuma? Confirmed, I'm transmigrated into the Narutoverse!" 

After 2 weeks of wandering around, I came to the conclusion that, seeing them, I'm sure this is the warring state period before the Konoha is built. Only thanks to this strange energy I can feel around, I learn to hide and manage to protect myself in case techniques misfire in my direction. Is this chakra? No, it's different from what I remember; chakra came from a body combination of physical and spiritual energy, while this strange energy came from everywhere, like trees, mountains, and rivers. So what is this? Maybe I'll remember it later...

*****

"Mom..."

"Be sure to eat healthy food and remember to sleep and rest; don't overwork yourself. We know that you're already an adult, but for us, you'll always be our baby boy. Mother will always love you."

"Father..." 

"Son, be strong; that's the path that you wish to take. With your mother, we'll support you. Our little angel, spread your wings and fly. I love you, son."

"Brother..." A single tear rolled down his cheek.

"Little bro, wish anything you want; your big brother is super strong; this big brother will raze anything that blocks your path, so... so you'll be safe, and remember to be always happy. I love you so much, little bro."

In the clearing inside the forest, a little boy was sitting on the ground and hugging his knees as if hiding away his grief, his anger, and his sadness. He wails. He cries until his tears dry up. Only the comfort he has is his own.

The world is truly unfair; why does this pure soul need to suffer? A sheep is thrown into the pack of wolves, waiting to be slaughtered.

Sometimes the darkness needs a light to see the truth; where's the darkness, The light will Arrive.

[a-student-out-of-time]

Like I'm pretty sure that SDRA2 tells that in killing game you should trust nobody think about that. Kokoro end up trusting Teruya that he protect her but he mess up and she died. Setsuka end up trusting Hibiki and her sister and end up dying. Shinju was one of characters who says that they need trust each other end up be a tool that Nikea used for his plan. And Syobai survives who was isolated and trust nobody and he survivor unlike people who trust in someone.

//I think you're misunderstanding the real issues here. One, this is a terrible message in general because you can't get through any sort of game like this without trusting someone.

//Two, LINUJ absolutely has this very cynical perspective on human nature, but it feels incredibly selective and haphazardly applied. For example:

He's talked about how he created Kizuna to be the most hateable character in DRA and someone you'd want to suffer the worst death, yet he gives her some very sympathetic moments and backstory elements that show there's depth to her behavior. Everything about her sudden turn to murder doesn't feel like she's showing her true colors, but a contrived turn out of left field to make her a villain because that was the plan.

He'll talk constantly about how we should hold characters accountable for their actions and how no element of their backstory makes what they do okay. And he'll say this no matter how much those characters clearly show compassion, camaraderie, regret, guilt, sorrow, or how tragic their backstories are. He has this weird habit of giving them understandable backstories, but instead of using them to contextualize behavior or provide some sympathy, it's like he tells the audience "No, you can't agree with them, they're bad people."

Despite that, when Sora deliberately tries to save Yuki's life by using an unconscious Nikei's hand to injure Shinji, he was baffled and hurt that a lot of people were angry at her, when he felt she deserved sympathy for that. Honestly pretty hypocritical there, ngl.

When his characters aren't regressing as people or dying, they're just stagnant. Iroha doesn't undergo any kind of growth in this game, and her true colors turn out to be those of a self-centered coward. It honestly gets pretty insufferable, yet he hasn't really had a bad word to say about her.

He also has this uncomfortable desire to see the nicest and kindest characters suffer the worst deaths, and for no other reason than its emotional impact on the audience. Yet he's also sad that he did it and wishes it didn't have to be like that?

Third, your points don't make any sense within the story's logic:

Syobai does not survive because he "doesn't trust anyone." He survives because he has literal cheat codes and can leave the simulation whenever he wants. Plus, as a Broker, he makes deals with people, and deals require trust. He even made a deal with Emma and only broke it when it was clear his life would be in danger if he still upheld it.

Kokoro died not because she made a mistake trusting Teruya, but because she made the absolutely boneheaded decision to confront Emma about her status as a Void and her abusive father without any protection at her side. Bringing Teruya with her would not have been hard at all.

Setsuka's death happened because Kanade is a jealous clingy freak, and also because she read ahead in the script. Hibiki didn't betray Setsuka, she was in her puppet state and couldn't act on her own at the time, having no conscious awareness of her actions.

The closest you could really say was genuine betrayal was from Nikei, but that had nothing to do with Shinji. It was because Nikei wanted to ruin Mikado's plans out of petty spite, and that meant hurting Yuki by getting him to kill the guy who was there for him the entire game.

//Moreover, SDRA2's themes are so weakly-presented and executed that any messages you take away from this game feel accidental at best. Yes, it's the conclusion of the Another series' story, but there's no obvious exploration of themes or ideas in place, so I really can't say LINUJ had an aesop he wanted to share with us.

//So, no, it isn't saying anything about trust or betrayal. It's not saying much of anything beyond "Let's watch Yuki Maeda suffer for 6 chapters."

//LINUJ is capable of good ideas, but he has this very bad habit of failing to take advantage of them, undercutting them or throwing them out in favor of bad ones instead.

[wizard-of-interesting-failure]

"Humanity is not as the wheat before the scythe," I said, "but as the tree which yields its bounty season after season."

The thing paused; we knew it capable of thought, for hope was too complex a food to be digested by an uncomplex mind, but none had ever figured how much. Enough to follow us on our dire journey awaiting a potential feast rather than consuming the meager crumbs of our almost-total despair, but beyond that who could say?

"But only," I pressed on before it could begin drawing undesirable conclusions, "if tended well. Only if the harvest takes no more than what is offered, and the world is kind enough to let it grow."

I didn't know if it was impressed by my attempt at eloquence, or if it even understood. I barely cared. We were nearly to the rift, cloaks turned to its scouring emanations, ash-blasted landscapes crumbling beneath our feet. A preview of what would follow everywhere, when we failed.

It looked me in the eye, then, and made an odd face. It took a moment for me to place it, the sheer absurdity of the thought repelling it from my mind, but it looked bizarrely like old Jenkins had when he'd opened up his larder last winter to find all of his carefully salted rations had become foul-smelling and inedible.

Hah! Perhaps that would get my point across. The monster's usual ravenous countenance returned at that; hope, after all, is a more enduring thing than meat.

How much more, though, we were perhaps about to find out.

We had received warnings of the world-razers for some time; fragments of scrolls fluttering to the earth from clear skies, shards of stone tablets found buried in our orchards on misty mornings, and bizarre devices we could never decipher but we concluded must carry some kind of missive from how they fit the pattern. Though cryptic, contradictory, and often barely legible, we were able to ascertain a scant few facts consistent across the many pieces we collected.

Whenever the origin of the message was present, it always claimed to be from a world suffering apocalypse. Whenever the nature of the disaster was known, it always claimed to be the same; a massive pitch black portal, a world-scouring storm of ash, and then an unfathomably large army that would hunt down and destroy all survivors. No record of a motive, no hint of successful resistance, no news of the realm beyond the portal. From worlds that barely knew how to put word to paper to worlds whose denizens harnessed powers so far beyond our comprehension that we barely understood their scope, not one seemed able to provide any even remotely possible path to combat the threat.

And so, when at last the dread thing began to manifest above a nearby forest, we set out to investigate. What else was there to do but wait at home to die? Many chose to, and as they girded their homes against the storm of ash we said our farewells and left.

I had thought, on occasion, on what I would say to one of these monsters if I met one and it did not immediately leave me a catatonic wreck as they do to almost everyone who sees one. They seemed inherently self-defeating; the presence of a Hope Eater was perhaps the most effective hope-destroying thing on the planet, even before the creature began to feed. In times past we had plans, even defenses against the things, but their lack of efficacy has replaced them with a weary resignation. Not something I think I would find very appetising, were the shoe on the other foot.

Now, as we trudged grimly toward a slightly faster end than that which would soon befall everything we had ever known, I had said my piece for lack of anything else to do.

The thing had been seemingly in thought for some time now; we were alone at the back of the column, as even in the face of armageddon nobody else had wanted to go near it. A pity, then, that it suddenly took off in its peculiar loping gait directly through the rest of the party, uttering a bizarre, warbling cry that none of us had ever heard before. There was panic, scattering, and eventually a calming as the monster vanished into the grit-filled air ahead. Eventually we shrugged and continued on. Once again, what else was there to do?

The rift was exactly as the fragments described it; a terrible rending of the very substance of reality, threads of the real spiralling into a widening tear as though the world were made of unravelling fabric. A cursory touch by a particularly brave young woman confirmed that it was impassable, we pitched our tents as best we could against the howling gusts, ate a meager supper, and slept fitfully; we did not know whether it was day or night, only that we were exhausted and grimy and that we could perhaps cure one of those conditions and at least prevent the other from worsening.

When I awoke, the rift was surrounded by Hope Eaters.

More than were known to exist. More than we had thought could possibly exist, given the population of the known world. But then, how many other worlds were known, now? Could they be refugees, of a sort? Some looked very unfamiliar in form or posture. What were they here for? What did they think they could do?

...nothing with any chance of working, I suddenly felt. Some of them stood up a little straighter as I did. Many of them seemed to grow in strength as the others emerged from their tents. One probed at the barrier, finding it impassable as we had; at least until it placed a webbed hand flat on the surface and it began to ripple.

An alarm sounded from the other side of what now seemed to be a flexible membrane, the ashen winds shutting off in the same instant. A loud sound rang out and the monster reeled back, though it did not collapse; we had heard tell of magical weapons that would kill and destroy anything in their path, so this seemed a positive development. Though I shortly after concluded that they likely used some lesser form of attack and we were probably doomed regardless, this seemed to embolden the stricken creature which lunged forward and tore through the barrier with a sound like glass and metal being ripped apart.

More poured in after, a seemingly endless tide of horrors vanishing into the darkness on the other side. When we recovered our wits we stumbled up to the hole in the world; no trace of the Hope Eaters remained on our side, and despite the newly permeable nature of the portal it still showed only darkness.

I stepped through, heedless of the warnings of my companions. As with so many things in recent days, what else was there to do?

I emerged into a warzone. A massive corridor made of some kind of smooth metal was strewn with what I could only guess were body parts and shattered machinery. Picking over it all to continue walking was a challenge, and the surreality of seeing dead Hope Eaters, much less whatever else had once been made up of all the other scattered parts, lent an overwhelming sense of unreality to the experience. I half-walked, half-stumbled over what seemed like an endless field of destruction until I reached some kind of hub; innumerable corridors branched out from it, identical to the one I had just left, and echoes of indecipherable sounds drifted up from many of them.

The Hope Eater that had followed us stood there, waiting. A sense of despair welled up within me; what was all this? With so many unknowns, surely something terrible would befall me before I could escape, strike me dead where I stood as I struggled to make sense of this alien place.

And yet, I wasn't sure.

The creature let out its cry again as I turned to leave. From some of the corridors came more like it, a smattering of the familiar-looking monsters, but none of the others. They carried what looked like their fallen brethren, an unmistakable mournfulness to their features and their shuffling gait as they moved towards me. Again, in the presence of so many I felt my end should be close at hand...but again, I wasn't sure.

I retraced my steps and they followed, collecting more of the fallen as they went.

We emerged from the rift to find that all of the others had fled, save for the brave young woman. She saw me manifest from the darkness with relief and vindication on her features, only for it to turn to panic, then bafflement as the creatures emerged behind me. They scattered after that, mostly, but the one that followed us stayed behind. I felt I had to bring news of all this back to my settlement, but the weariness of the last few days of travel caught up with me; I am no longer as young as I once was, and in truth had simply wished to end my ample time in this world doing something a little more interesting than hiding in a basement. As I collapsed forward, limbs reached out to grab me; I turned my neck to thank the young woman but instead found myself staring into the empty eyes of the Hope Eater, radiating something unmistakably like concern. It took off at a rapid speed towards the settlement; my last thought before passing out that I had certainly found a more interesting way to die.

I got the rest of the story from my bedside after I awoke. The creature had brought me to the gates, set me down gently, bellowed, and then retreated into what was left of the woods. The guards who picked me up debated whether to take the risk of bringing me in, as they felt as though I must probably be dead, or at least beyond saving, and that the creature would return and devour their spirits...

...but again, they weren't sure.

With that little spark of hope for my life, they decided to risk it. Over the next few days the creature seemed...determined to be helpful. It left hunted meat by the front gates, crudely hewn lumber next to damaged sections of our palisade, and full barrels of water where there had been empty ones. Everyone expected it to destroy all our minds at any moment, even when it became clear that it did not intend to; after I offered my account and speculation, the consensus was that this was the price for the creature's presence.

Though we now live in a state of perpetual unease, it is in truth lesser to the terror we felt when the thing stalked the night and seemingly tore the souls from men wherever it found them. It has learned quickly of our goals and lives and even assisted us in the reconstruction of our storm-ravaged belltower; an expedition is planned to further investigate the rift, and it seems keen on coming along. We have made it garments in our traditional style as best we could, given the thing's odd anatomy, and despite some initial confusion it has taken to them quite well.

Months passed, and the new normal set in. Traders and messengers from other settlements report similar yet idiosyncratic situations, with one township adopting their new member as something of a mascot. The rift expedition stalled in the face of reconstruction efforts and a general pessimism around the possible outcomes, but the planning is complete, the provisions are stocked, and the young woman who stuck out the expedition with me seems excited for her next adventure. Good on her; we have found ourselves with a future after endless assurances that we would not have one, and it will fall to her generation to build it.

And if we believe a little less in the promise of that future, what of it? Less confidence in its arrival, less blind hope, merely means we will work harder to ensure that it is bountiful. Me, though...I think it's about time that I got myself some rest. The world will still be here in the morning.

Deep Water Prompt #3426

Hope Eaters are largely reviled, empty eyed monsters who only know hunger. No one in their right mind would travel with one, but we have nothing to lose. 

[madameseal]

We took turns sawing the work piece. There are only two jigsaws in the workroom.

At first I wanted to make just one toy and leave it there. But the teacher was very insistent, "Were you going to make two toys?".

Some made two or three toys to take one for themselves, and leave one or two at the university as payment for materials and tools. This is a natural practice for us. Just like

working out for two to five years according to the distribution of the specialty after graduation from university or college.

I asked, "Did you like my capybara so much?". The answer is yes.

After the couples, I went to the workroom with a classmate. She has a toy of a complex shape - an oven. She didn't have time to make her detail. I made two more round work piece.

Well. I came to the conclusion that when you have to pay with your blood for mistakes, learning goes much faster. But in case you suffer from your own aftereffect, and not someone scolds. Six blows to the fingers with a jigsaw, five broken jigsaw blades, four blows to the shoulder. Progress. I am more gentle, slower and more careful with the instrument. The tool did not beat off all my fingers, did not cut anything and allowed me to cut the workpiece without constant rubbing with a candle. Sewing was much more difficult.

Due to the haste and incorrect grip of the jigsaw, the circles came out very uneven. Especially the second workpiece. On the third, we found an approach to each other. The master at the end of sawing brought the workpieces into a presentable appearance on the grinding machine. Surprisingly smooth, smooth and smelling of fresh wood. Slightly different diameters, but according to the master, "Irregularities make it clear that it was done by hand. A machine can't put its soul in. Soul and hand-made things are worth a lot."

It was very cozy. Because of the warm lighting, falling snow outside the window, soft warm clothes, not the best central heating (as can be seen in one of the photos, because of the cold, some were sitting in pairs in jackets. We can. The teachers are also in them. ), the smell of tools, comfortable silence, good relationships between those present, created the feeling of a grandfather's house in childhood, when he sawed something and brought it into the house.

[calf-cover]

Hello! Do you think this was all? Oh, no - I came back with the second part of

The Mini-Analysis of the Alchemical Aspect of Alagadda (part 2)

This time we will analyze the second Lord of Alagadda – the Wearer of the Mask of  Diligence - White Lord and their stage. It won't do without headcannons either, and let's start our trip right now! 

But I warn you, this analysis is three times longer than the previous one!

*And you can read the first part, if you miss it*

Want to say that alchemy and its sources are extremely disordered and often contradictory. I tried to make sense of them and organize by virtue of my knowledge and the logic of the ritual. 

But it is a little daunting to read with eyes opening wider and wider three pages about the "Virgin Mary's uterus", so that in the end came to the conclusion that this is purely a reference to a freaking return to the womb of the mother, rebirth and all the other stuff that already WAS IN A BUNCH OF RITUALS AND CULTURES And IT WAS CLEAR FROM the FIRST MENTION!!? And about the rest of the texts, I'm generally silent. As you read the alchemical treatises in the original it becomes clear why there are constant orgies in Alagadda. They just honor the origins, so to speak…

But let's get back to the analysis. Oh, it will be long and very interesting!

The White Lord, Wearer of the Diligence Mask personifies the stage of Albedo. And if Nigredo is a nightmare, Albedo is a waking up after it. In this stage we get purified, liquefied and crystal-clear matter capable of turning any metal into silver, the second most perfect metal after gold.

Spiritually, Albedo is a stage of contemplation and "growing up". This is the ablution from past sufferings and the entry into a new stage – after metaphorical death and rebirth in Nigredo, the rite of initiation comes to an end. The body is dissolved, and the spirit is purified and tangible. "The soul at this stage feeds on milk, like a infant, preparing for grow" says the description of this stage in one of the treatises, and the spiritual meaning here interests us more than the chemical one. It can be assumed that the "milk" here is a new experience, new powers and opportunities that a person receives by passively analyzing and absorbing the world around them.

In our analysis, I want to pay special attention to the fact that Albedo is very similar to the outcome of the initiation rite (rebirth in a new form after "death" in Nigredo), which makes it associated with duty. In all cultures, such rituals were often a "test" of a person's readiness for new responsibilities and a solemn endowment of them.

Hence, perhaps, the status of the Lord – "The Mask of Diligence". That is, given the nature of this stage, it can be assumed that the White Lord has some special powers and a role different from those of the other Lords, possibly related somehow to order and maintaining stability, while the other lords seem more chaotic and prone to destruction. It is also worth noting that this word has far more than one meaning – it means both "assiduity" and "perseverance", "patience", "thoroughness". And surely these qualities are also inherent in our Lord.

The symbols of this stage are the white swan, the moon, Jupiter and silver. The swan is a symbol of the perfection of the spirit, but also a link between water and air, the Moon and Jupiter, which refers to the Chemical Wedding – the end of Albedo, the mixing of two metals, "female" philosophical mercury and "male" philosophical sulfur – volatile and liquid. By the way, it results in a divine hermaphrodite – Rebis, their fusion and child. Therefore, it is likely that the White Lord, as a symbol of this stage and process, are intersex – and given their nature, this is not an ordinary "human" hermaphrodite, namely a mythical Rebis – that is an intersex squared with a fascinating chthonico-cosmic concept of gender. Finally, a character I can fully associate myself with

The moon emphasizes the connection of Albedo with water, as well as with the feminine principle and the fragility of the emerging alchemical compound. The light of the moon is still cold, barely discernible, it is far from the final clarity of Ruberdo. And consciousness is still wandering in the twilight, still tender and alert, but seeing and greedily absorbing everything it can reach.

Jupiter, on the contrary, is already an established, strong union – it is the reins of order, luck and confidence, and the patron saint of science, philosophy and law. It symbolizes immense knowledge, and the opportunity to touch them, expand the boundaries and know things that seemed forbidden and unknowable. Venus also has some influence at the end of the stage, but most of the time the process takes place under the auspices of the Moon and Jupiter. Venus, on the other hand, accompanies Albedo to the next stage, which we will talk about another time.

Silver is traditionally a magical, healing metal, second only to gold. It is a symbol of the majesty of purity, clarity, as well as strength and perseverance, because it withstands the effects of many aggressive mediums. It is a symbol of the feminine principle and the moon, providence and purification from the impurities of the soul.

Having gathered together all the information received, we can present an approximate portrait of this mysterious Lord. It is a powerful entity that most likely orders and balances the wild, unbridled nature of Alagadda and other Lords. And here I want to note an important point. As we remember, Albedo has a special connection with liquids – more than any other stages. And apparently, it is with liquids – the four humors of the body, the dissolutions necessary for transformations that Alagadda is extremely firmly connected. It would not be surprising if it was the White Lord who would act as such a link.

As for the character – apparently it will be restrained being, that immersed in secret knowledge and constantly analyzing and ordering everything. However, they will be endowed with strength and stubbornness, steadfastness, under the onslaught of which anyone will kneel.

As for appearance, the Albedo stage in alchemy is often depicted as a woman with a pale face in white dress and a crown. So most likely it will be a monstrous Snow Queen, cold as a cosmic abyss, deceptively fragile and infinitely mysterious. Truly worthy to carry the status of the purest divine unknowable Rebis, from the mere presence of who space itself freezes.

Well, now let's move on to my cross between a reclusive theorist, Dr. Frankenstein and my goofy ahh technician grandpa (who almost sawed off my fingers along with a piece of iron), a being more like a monumental iceberg than a thin ice queen, possessing the emotional range of a dried acorn.

I love my White Lord. I love their dissimilarity, I like their manners and character, which is reflected in their appearance, and the fact of their extremely perverted and at first glance not manifested sense of humor despite complete external and internal coldness. And there is still some irony in their "true" appearance in comparison with traditional images.

However, it is probably an omission that they were originally made without delving into alchemical symbolism - despite all the similarity of the final results. Instead, a strong emphasis was placed on their connection with fluids and lymph – humour, responsible for the brain and "hydration". Also, because of the translation in my native language, they were literally called "The Lord of Perseverance", so in the end there was more stubbornness than decency in them.

In my text to their tarot fan art, I mentioned that their body size is not increased because of fat at all. And I think it's worth revealing this fact so as not to torment the audience with guesses. Their tissues are saturated with lymph.

The lymph acts as a layer between their skin and muscles, the lymph protects and nourishes the mighty flesh around the gold-yellow bones, the lymph binds deceptively human insides and flows through the veins, binding any poisons and cooling burns before they have time to do any harm. The White Lord can literally absorb almost any damage and calmly continue moving, and this with their vulnerable humanoid form! And they are really needs that...

The White Lord is looking for answers to many questions. Why do Lords look so much more like people than ordinary peasants? How does the complex system of Alagadda work? Where are the limits of their fluid management abilities?.. They are an obscenely broad profile scientist, deeply studying, among other things, the nature of Alagadda, which remains a mystery even for the Lords. For this, they often get comeuppance from the Ambassador, then from Alagadda itself, accidentally getting into its dangerous processes, then from the offspring of their experiments, but after that they just shake themselves off and continue working. The fact that the Lord is orderly and follows certain rules does not mean that these will be the rules of the local government…

But in addition to personal research, the White Lord works to order, whether it's creating new drinks, alloys and fancy tools, or extracting a narcotic slug from places where it clearly shouldn't be. Of course, not for free. All the Lords are forced to seek their assistance one way or another.

They like everything to be orderly, studied and in its place, and at meetings they often act as a conciliatory party, restraining the ardent temper of their brethren. After all, they are is the only one who can tolerate the Black Lord, and often softens his violent nature.

They are infinitely calm, persistent and logical, but at the cost of their own feelings. They get no pleasure from anything other than mental work, have almost no attachments and do not feel the slightest regret when they see suffering as well as gratitude in return for kindness. If the Black Lord is an emotional being and perfectly aware of what pain and rid of it is, the Yellow Lord experiences a range of complex emotions and the most subtle and diverse variations of hatred, and the Red Lord deliberately ignores the feelings of others, putting his delight above the someone’s sufferings, then the White Lord, even with telepathy, is not able to fully understand what others are experiencing.

Usually they regard people as things – either neutral, or interfering, or giving an opportunity to extract something. And probably, including on this basis, they got together with the Black Lord. But you know, two evil geniuses in the same city sounds like an extremely explosive mix…

[pikagatogirltits]

There's something I've been thinking about a lot lately everytime I see people talk about the Magic story. Particularly people who express disappointment with how the story unfolds. And I think I've figured out (one of) the main sources of that disappointment. Mostly, it comes down to those fans having misidentified the intended tone/genre/story structure of the Magic story.

The way I see a lot of people talk about the Magic story, it's clear to me that they're interpreting the story through the lens of it being a high fantasy action/adventure novel. They're comparing it to stuff like R.A. Salvatore's Drizzt novels, the Dragonlance novels, Eragon, any number of generic fantasy novels that ape the aesthetics of D&D, and even the old Magic novels. (You also get a bunch of people who seem to want Magic story to be more like Game of Thrones, but those people are just wrong because Magic has never indicated that it's trying for that level of dark and gritty fantasy.)

But here's your first problem. Magic story isn't told in novels anymore. It's told in serialized story chunks. The structural needs of these types of stories are completely different! You can not tell a novel style story with the type of word count the Magic story has now, and the act structure of these types of stories are completely different as well.

As for tone and genre tropes...the high fantasy people aren't too far off, because there's definitely some high fantasy flavor in the soup of Magic's narrative influences. But the modern Magic story also owes a lot to pulp fantasy and modern super hero comics for its tonal influences and the types of tropes they play with.

It's a classic recipe for disappointment. When you set your expectations and something fails to meet them, it's only natural to be disappointed.

Of course, some of the blame definitely rests on WotC for this. Some of the weird pacing issues the Magic story suffers from make a lot of sense when you look at the people they're contracting to write it. A lot of them seem to be primarily fantasy novelists, and there's a good chance that not all of them are necessarily familiar with the structural needs of this style of story telling. Plus, this definitely sends some mixed signals to the fanbase as to what kind of stories to expect.

I don't know if I have a conclusion to this, but I thought they were some interesting observations I had made and felt like they had the potential to start some interesting discussions. Feel free to chime in with what you think.

[aromantic-misguide-to-romance]

Angels Falling - Luke

Thinking about how the brothers fell and ended up turning into demons, I started wondering about further possibilities – how would the two celestial exchange students fall, why and how would they adjust to their new nature and new home. Note that this is significantly darker and heavier than OM! ever is and shows the angels from a really much worse side and messed up, so proceed with caution.

Starting with... Luke.

He was made believe that angels are superior, shining with brilliance over all three realms. Humans are to be protected and guided, innocent lambs straying into a wolf’s den if left unsupervised. And demons… Demons are filthy. This was what he believes when he arrives to the Devildom.

However, as he gets to know demons and humans, his world broadens greatly. His views get more flexible, he gains a lot of understanding to each of the worlds. Even if he himself strongly identifies with angelic values and despises the demonic ones, he starts to see that there are people behind those words. He meets humans and demons who now have names and faces, now they have some kind of connection. They’re not abstract concepts anymore. His mindset starts opening up, more accepting towards the difference and he starts to think on his own instead of relying on guidance of older angels, which is anyway lacking on the demons’ turf.

This doesn’t mean though that he would give up his own angelhood or lose his faith in the importance of angels. Quite the opposite. He firmly believes that angels bear a special mission for all worlds and can change them for the better. His visit to the Devildom makes this vague idea much more refined and clear.

In a way, even if he develops a deeply personal connection and sympathetic views, his newly acquired experience makes him more keen to see angels as saviours of all those poor, suffering sin-ridden souls. If he was older, he would probably advocate in a more reasonable way and do plenty of good as his views develop, but the thing is, he isn’t. He’s a child that tries to make sense of the world without any reliable guidance.

And starts seeing that the angels he idolised and respected don’t align with the ideal anymore in his eyes, not when they’re this blinded by prejudice, lazy in evaluating their judgements.

Being an idealist, he grows distrustful towards other angels – he starts seeing that they’re not aiming to become the perfect angels like the ideal he’s chasing, and that realisation isn’t something that he as a child can constructively process alone.

It just upsets him in a non-productive, destructive way as he starts rebelling against the angels he deems double-faced and hypocritical and cannot trust their guidance anymore. He doesn’t understand nuances yet – and doesn’t understand that the world isn’t so simple. That flaws can be worked upon, but won’t disappear overnight. That ideals are simply not achievable. That no one can be perfect, even the highest of angels.

He needs a simple world and so he distrusts those who don’t fit what he imagines angelhood be like.

This inflexibility mixed with anger and rejection are a recipe for a disaster, especially in a world that doesn’t want to listen, that’s just stewing in its status quo.

His new opinions are blamed on the corrupting effect of the demons and add fuel to the brewing celestial conflict whether or not to keep diplomatic relations with the Devildom. The views he had at the beginning are common, brewing under the surface of the seemingly gentle and benign mask and break through at the chance.

He’s used as an anti-example, and all the blame is tossed onto the seven brothers. Obviously, it only makes his anger even worse. He notices the laziness of the Celestial Realm’s thinking, when angels treat him like an oblivious child, reject his ability to decide and come to his own conclusions… and blame and scapegoat demons who have done nothing to deserve that.

The feeling that he isn’t listened to, that he’s looked upon by those who don’t even try to reach the ideal, just make his opinions even more black and white, make him challenge the Celestial Realm even more – the more he’s scolded and the more patronising the advice and scolding he’s getting. He’s growing prideful – as pride has always been a part of him, first in his disgust at demons, then in his own strong identity as an angel. In the mission that angels have.

He knows that has not been corrupted. He knows that he’s voicing his opinions driven by his deep faith in the celestial values. It’s the other angels who never noticed that their brilliance isn’t as bright and their shine is cheap.

At some point, the conflict grows too big. Luke refuses to stand down, but the Celestial Realm isn’t lenient to rebels. Even those who are going through a completely normal part of development that children generally go through as they reach their teenage years and start establishing their place in the world.

However, the Celestial Realm has already been easy on him and gave him chances, specifically because he’s a child and has never been considered a threat. But it cannot accept a truly incorrigible individual he’s becoming.

But Luke doesn’t notice the dark clouds looming over him. At this point it is unlikely that he’d tone down even if he did see what was on the horizon.

The fall came as a shock – until the very end Luke never expected to be banished. He thought it could happen only to the seven brothers who were already tainted by their revolt and rejected their own angelhood. Luke hasn’t done that – there’s been no fault in him, he’s been trying to achieve the better world. He’s been trying to be the one that deserves the title of an angel.

Even as he lands in the Devildom, he’s in deep denial of what is happening to him. Too shocked to see what’s actually happened to him, not accepting he’s been turned into something as far from an angel as only possible.

[raggaraddy]

hello if you want you can ignore this of course but I was wondering what would vampire Hoseok do if he found out someone turned oc? Your fics are amazing by the way!

Bitten to death

A/N: Thank you for your request :) It was fun to write. However I took it less as a reaction, and more of a story prompt. So it's not exactly a conclusive answer to your question. I hope you still like it, though ^-^ 💜💜💜

Summary: You thought you knew everything about Vampires but when you wake up one you learn there are some important things you did not know. And it's only going to let worse once you learn why you were turned.

Trigger Warnings: Blood, death, maiming, choking, violence, mind control, abduction, yandere themes.

Vampire! Hoseok

It was like a horror story within your already horrific story. Some man you've never met before broke into Hoseok's house when only you were there. While you screamed and fought and instinctively called for Hoseok, he covered you in bites unlike any other you had felt before. Ones that made you suffer as if fire was coursing through your veins. You wish that you could say you were strong enough that your fight had some kind of impact. But in truth, it was over after only a few seconds. And it was in those few seconds that you felt your chest burning and your breath fill your lungs for the last time.

Waking you're met by the stranger hovering above you. Your head aching and your body throbbing in ways you had never experienced before. With a quick glance, you can see everything around you, and that does mean everything. Every single little detail. And the information is overwhelming.

Your mind feels as if it's breaking from everything you're taking in. For as far as you can see there are pallets and long isles of shelves lined up, the contents on every rack crystal clear. You can hear the sound of his shoes on the concrete and the dirt gritting underneath, and how each peak of sound travels and bounces off the farthest point in the warehouse. Even the smells, there are hundreds of them all hitting you at once. A few you know like the fragrance of the treated wood or the oils stain, but others you couldn't guess at. It's as if all of your senses are on high and you have no way to focus them.

Despite your panic, no matter how much you want to run, you can't. Laying on your back with your arms spread out to either side of you and your legs held together, you're being bound by the thinnest most delicate length of silver chain. Though, it's not tied. It's only draped over you, but still holding you as if it were stronger than any steel. Burning you as if it were touched by the sun.

You may have only seen a few newly made vampires before, but you have still been around them enough and know enough about their existence to recognize how and why your body feels wrong. And absurdly you can't help but feel betrayed. This was not supposed to happen to you. It was the only safety you got from belonging to someone who was called The Immortal King, and The Origin of Cruelty. No one was supposed to be foolish enough to steal from him, and most importantly, no one was supposed to be able to hurt you. But now because Hobi didn't keep you safe, he's now lost his blood supply and you've lost your humanity.

The stranger snaps his fingers, the sound bursting in your eardrums making you groan and wince as he repeats it. "Focus your attention on just this one sound. On just the sight of my hand. Feel the air around it." He coaxes you, snapping again. The noise echos dozens of times, ricocheting off every wall. The dull thud of his fingertips hitting his palm only sounding the once though.

Opening your eyes your concentration goes to the hand held above your face as he said, the space around it blurring. On the back of his pointer finger on an otherwise porcelain complexion, you notice a small patch of dry skin just below his knuckle. Clear blue-black defined veins wrapping the back of his palm. He clicks his fingers again and you catch the sound of friction from the way his finger rubs down his thumb, feeling the most minuscule shift in the air created by his motion.

The pinpointed attention helps for a moment, but then you shift your eyes to his face and the explosion of information overpowers you again. His hold comes around your neck keeping your head from turning. The tight pressure on your throat while stifling your movement, nearly makes you smile. There's no airflow to restrict. Your chest isn't heating, your body isn't convulsing trying to breathe. Even in this tense moment, you can't help but find it humorous, thinking how many times over the years had you wished for this exact thing when Hobi had squeezed the air from you.

"Watch my eyes," on his words your vision becomes immersed in them. They're piercing blue. Made up of streaks of white interlacing with a clear sapphire shade, like thousands of threads made out of the purest tropical ocean. A transparent irregular line encircling his pupil, and beyond that every distinct strand blurs together with the others until it reaches the shadowed grey edge that holds the circular shape. Slowly his jet black pupils dilate, stretching and filling his entire iris till every trace of colour is removed. As if transfixed, you're unable to close your own eyes, a flooding of bright light filling your field of view. The strength of it is so intense that the tendons in your sockets ache and your eyes begin to water. Tears rolling down the sides of your face, cresting in your ears.

"Apologies, you are only my second." He confuses you with a vague explanation you did not ask for. The black finally receding into its natural size. Your own eyes scrunching as you try to blink away the soreness. The bizarre occurrence leaving you feeling drained of strength, filling you with anxiety caused by the uncertainty, which is only worsened by the glimmer of triumph in his gaze.

Searching past him to the ceiling your brain is again processing the whole image instead of the sum of its parts. The strain in your head slowly fading, your tight held muscles releasing as everything begins to normalize. You don't know what he did, but it seemed to help.

He doesn't back away, continuing to invade your personal space. Although, the way his fingers are trailing along your skin while you're restrained on the floor is still not the worst thing he has done to you. Seeing as he killed you.

"I had almost given up hope that Jung Hoseok would love." His hand daintily caresses along your neck and up your jaw. Your eyes shutting as his fingertips run over your lips. "I began to fear it might not be something possible for him." He divulges, his touch still aimlessly wandering.

The way he speaks you can feel his vailed anger. Despite his soft words, this is not someone who cares about Hoseok's wellbeing, this is someone who hates him deeply.

"However, you restored my lost faith. And for that, I would like to thank you, Inamorata."

He thinks Hoseok loves you? Is he crazy?. He's possessive of you, that is all. Even in moments of deception or weakness when you had told him that you loved him, he's never said it back with any sincerity. And he has never said it of his own accord.

"Sir," your eyes reopen. "I think you've misunderstood. These," you weakly gesture to the silver, each slight movement searing the links deeper into your flesh. "aren't necessary. We are on the same side. I hate Hobi, more than anyone."

"Truly?" He asks tilting his head to the side. His white hair messily hanging across his forehead.

"Yes," you nod trying to insist your point. "He's kept me locked up for years." you chuckle dryly. Finding it nearly risible that all of this is because this man believes in a fantasy.

"Well then, you are free to rise," he nods resolutely. Plucking the chains out of your melted skin as you grit your teeth. The sound of the sizzle on his own skin baffling you as to how he can even lift them.

Sitting up you gently pull your limbs in, inspecting the blistered and bloody marks. The skin on your wrists already starting to intricately knit itself back together.

"Come here." The stranger calls from a rested place on one of the pallets to your right.

Standing, it is a bit hard to walk with your ankles still cut up but you make it to him decently. Looking around you, you can see the sun streaming in from the high windows that line the whole length of the warehouse. It's enough to light up the otherwise dark space, but with the sheer size of this place, the beams of sunlight do not get close to the two of you in the centre. Still in the middle of the day, it means Hobi can't get to you. Not easily at least. So you're on your own for now.

"Kneel." He instructs plainly. And you follow, lowering onto your knees in front of him. Your only thoughts are of escape. You may be in your first minutes as a vampire, but it should be simple to move quickly. It always seemed like something that came easily to them. "Inamorata, you will call me Master." he declares abruptly.

"Yes, Master." You smile confusedly. Inamorata? Why does he keep calling you that? You're unsure if it's a name or a title, but it's weirding you out.

Your face drops, your heart thumping, realizing what you said. The words you just spoke replaying in your head. You hadn't meant to say that.

Why did you say that?

In fact, why had you knelt? Why were you doing what he said at all?

With a gaped mouth you climb back to your feet. "Look, I think-um." You start not knowing what you want to say.

"Kneel." He orders again more forcefully yet with a knowing, jovial smirk. You shake your head hard, staying upright. You're not going to let him order you around. He has to be kidding.

Your brows furrow, your mouth drops open, and your forehead tightens as your knees bend against your wishes. You drop back into your knelt position. Grunting as your jaw clenches, your fingers digging into your legs, doing your best to resist without success.

Your eyes go wide in shock.

"Good. Now stay there," his voice makes your stomach drop. But your muscles relax, your shoulders dropping and your bottom lowering on your calves. Your body resting in this position.

This is nothing you have ever seen before. It's nothing that you knew was possible. It shouldn't be possible. On top of all the horrible advantages they already have, you're sure you would have known if mind control was one of them!

"How?" You gape, shaking your head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Why?" a smile fills his face, "What you have told me is far different than what I had heard." He stands and turns, tapping his foot against the top pallet sending it and its boxed contents flying. He grabs at the bottom slats of wood underneath and drags them closer to you with a horrid screeching on the concrete. Sitting back down he is now much lower and much nearer to you. So much so that his legs spread straight out on either side of you. "See, I had heard stories of the self-proclaimed King of Vampires, who had fallen in love with his human pet. That he kept her close, kept her safe, and drank from her exclusively."

"That's not love." you interrupt with a scoff, "That's imprisonment."

"Well, let us see what the truth is. Tell me honestly, Jung Hoseok's little Inamorata, do you love him?"

"Yes." You're mouth answers before your mind has time to think. "No!" you instantly correct.

The smile grows larger on his face "And what do you feel about him?"

"I'm scared of him. But I care for him." The words are pouring out of you uncontrollably, your face placifying as you speak. "and I miss him when he isn't home."

"And does he love you?"

"I think so, yes." You wish you could make yourself shut up! Your calm tone drops and you bite your jaw trying to take back your own body, growling as you do. "No! He doesn't." you snarl in a rapid shift.

"You think so? Then my last question; Do you want him to love you?" He asks satirically.

"Yes," The word slips out. Being accepted joyously from him. "You can't just make me say anything you want!" you shout. Your body is rigid and stiff as you think to stand with nothing happening.

"I did not," he chuckles, "I made you say what you believe is true."

"No, you didn't! Tha-" his finger raises to his lips shushing you, cutting you off like your voice had disappeared.

That is not how you feel! Hobi may have gotten better as time has gone on, but he is still cruel and malicious and heartless. The only thing this man is doing is speaking to your primal brain. The part of you that gave into its survival instinct and it's the part that you fight every day to repress so that you stay in control. You can't love him, it's not possible.

"Ha, you are far more amenable than my last. I can hardly feel any resistance." He mocks, tapping his temple. "And I recall Jung Hoseok trying to move heaven and earth to break free. Even Mansueto struggled to contain him. But you," he reaches down holding out his hand and you follow his gesture, your body moving independently to accept it. "You are a broken little thing."

You don't understand his ridicule. You're not moving consciously. Your own mind isn't connected to your actions. So you can't fathom how your body is even reacting, let alone how you should be able to fight it.

"Stop." You complain, your voice coming out with far less strength than you had intended. "Look, Hoseok doesn't have my blood anymore, okay. So just leave me out of whatever fucked up feud you have you have going with him."

"No, that is not enough." his tone becomes suddenly harsh. He lifts his hand and you stand as he raises it. "He stole someone precious to me and he must feel the same agony of loss."

"You're wrong." you swallow, working to overcome your nerves, "I'm sorry, but you just are. He doesn't love me. I'm not precious." You try to reason, seeing your pleas falling on an unreceptive man.

"We will see."

The sun has barely set before you hear commotion beyond the metal walls.

You had tried over and over to pry information from this man, to convince him to let you leave. But you were unable to gather so much as a name from him, and clearly, you failed to be let go. After a certain point of ignoring you, he stopped you from speaking altogether. Not allowing you to say a word until he permits it. More than that though, he filled your head with many instructions. Telling you how to behave in anticipation of Hoseok's arrival.

100 meters in front of you the locked doors are ripped off their hinges, a dozen men and women pouring into the warehouse with inhuman speed. But as if time slows down your eyes adjust and you can see them, see their movements with full clarity. Hoseok comes in last and straight down the middle into the open square that you all occupy. And you must admit, you are genuinely happy to see him. Now you just want him to hurry up and get you out of here.

The man steps forward to meet them while you are sat on the stack of pallets behind him. Your only instruction at this time is to sit quietly and wait for him to call you. Hating the feeling of being restrained by your own body.

Watching them all lineup versus a single man, you find it comical how outmatched he is.

Hobi always said that when he got tired of playing with your human body, he was going to turn you. And he was furious if anyone robbed him of even your smallest reactions, so clearly, he was going to be beyond pissed that someone sped up his plan, and took your death away from him.

"That's mine," Hoseok puffs up his chest, looking past the man's shoulder to you. 

The only thing that's confusing you, though, is if this man knows who The Vampire King is, why he didn't expect to be met with hell on earth, and why he didn't prepare better.

"Jung Hoseok, always so impolite. Do you not think you should greet an old friend after so many years?"

"We can talk all you like, Kol," Hoseok snarls, finally giving a name to your killer. "Once I get my property back."

"I think you'll find this is my belonging now." he chuckles in a brief pause. Hoseok's expression darkens, his eyes becoming murderous. The fury around him actually making you shiver. "Do you like the modifications I made? She is much more durable now."

Supposedly, Hobi's already noticed your change, because he doesn't look at you again. Instead, the two men have an intense staredown. All of the vampires on his side looking ready to kill on a word.

"And far more obedient. Come here," Kol calls you, holding his hand out at shoulder height for you to take. Moving automatically, you jump down from the stack of wooden pallets placing your fingers on his palm.

Unable to stand the rage on Hoseok's face you look down, just missing the exact moment he charges. But you see an instant later as he is thrown back like a paper doll into four stories of shelves, his weight bringing the metal, the shelves, and the products down on top of him as the whole structure collapses. His men looking as startled as you to see Hoseok so easily discarded.

Before the toppling construction settles, Kol breaks from your side and an incredible, horrible scene breaks out. His speed is something you can't follow, even now. You only see the trail of destruction when he stops. One after the other, he made his way through half of the vampires, ripping them apart. Literally tearing some in two halves. Decorating the square with blood and innards.

The others are as belated and overwhelmed as you, only just having the sense to react as his blurred image stops. When he advances again, this time he doesn't use his quickness for an advantage and simply ploughs through them. They attack all at once, and still as they grab and strike at him, their forces barely move him. And his response is terrifying.

You can only bear to watch the first one. Kol's fist driving through a woman's chest, the horrid cracking of her ribs as he tears it back out making you want to scream. But his orders have you completely silent. Instead, you close your eyes, sealing your hands over your ears. Trying to block out the violent sickening sounds of his destructive rampage.

There's a last thud before it falls quiet again. Your eyes springing open to see as horrific of a sight as you had imagined. He's dripping in blood. Drenched in it. And Hoseok's people are strewn in every which way. Not a single one having survived.

Sauntering through the sea of dead bodies, he makes his way to the side where Hoseok is unmoved, tossing away the beams and panels as if they were nothing. Grabbing him by the ankle, he drags him from the rubble into the clear space in front of you. The man you once thought of as the most powerful in existence, and his troupe of vampires, was completely demolished in mere seconds of work. And you can only watch on with your body shaking. Your hopes of rescue decimated. Your chest aching with worry, even for Hobi's sake.

"Now that it's a more intimate number of us, should we talk?" Kol releases him, brushing past you as he sits where you had before. His action triggering an instruction he provided earlier, forcing you to follow him and kneel at his feet.

Sitting up, Hoseok rubs the back of his hand against a large gash under his eye. The ferocity not having left his mannerisms. "You disappear for 90 years, and you show up to what, gimmie a blood bath." His laugh falls into a grimace as he stands himself back up.

"I was created in the 13th century and you brought infants to a fight with me. What did you think would happen?" Kol asks scornfully.

"I was hoping they would do a little better," He smirks, shrugging off their deaths. "Okay, that's my bad. But still, that doesn't tell me what you want. Or did you just want to remind me that you're still alive?" He taunts, his sardonic nature returning, "Remind me that you're still pissed and you can kick my ass. Good job. You put on quite a show." he smiles, his tongue running over his fangs as he gestures around at the gruesome display. "But she," he points to you with two fingers, bitterness lacing his next words, "is worth nothing to you."

"Oh, she is worth everything to me," Kol slides forward, his hand brushing down the back of your neck, "because she is worth everything to you."

On those words, you get the most heart-wrenching sight. A pang of insecurity shows up in Hoseok's eyes. Uncertainty and something so close to fear. The smile fading as he looks him up and down.

"I am curious, though, Vampire King, do you think she will detest the Sire bond as greatly as you did?" he punctuates the question, tugging your head back by your hair. "If I treat her as Mansueto treated you, how long do think until she breaks?"

With immense speed, Hoseok splinters one of the wooden crates near him, lunging at Kol, aiming to drive the shard into his heart with a roar. But he's caught before his hand ever plunges forward. Instead, Kol takes the sharp wood and spikes it into Hoseok's stomach. Continuing to dominate him with a solid blow, knocking him off his feet, smacking him into the concrete in front of you. Stepping down, he swings his foot punting Hoseok in the chest hurling him back among the remains of his fallen creations.

You had thought if you ever saw Hobi being handled as roughly as he treated you, that you would enjoy the Karma of it. But seeing him so easily immobilized is making you sick with fear and mostly sadness.

With Kol having stood, you're no longer bound on your knees and you scramble to your feet. You want to run to Hoseok's side but before you have the chance Kol drags you into him, his hand wrapped around your waist, his other crudely brushing the hair from off the side of your face.

"Call out to him. Tell him your every feeling." He hushes the order in your ear.

"Hobi!" you yell, not sure you would have even needed to be compelled to want to shout for him. "Get up, please. I'm scared. I wanna go home!"

"Go to him," Kol releases you and you sprint to his side, hardly able to slow your sudden frantic speed.

Doubled over Hoseok is bleeding profusely. He needs your blood- but you can't do that anymore. And you have no idea what to do. You don't know how to help him or how to get out of here. He's the one that is supposed to keep you safe.

Coming from behind you, Kol bends down shoving you out of the way to lift Hoseok by the throat. "Stop!" you follow their movement, hanging on Kol's arm. "Stop! Please." But you have no effect. Instead, he jerks the wood dagger out making Hobi yell in pain.

"Do you recall what you said as you killed our Sire?" Kol whispers maliciously. "You told me that 'I will get over it'." Releasing him, he lets Hoseok plummet to the floor and you drop with him trying to catch his weight. "In 100 years from now, I'll let you see her again and you can tell me if you were able to take your own advice." he smiles spitefully.

"Hobi," you whine lowly. Brushing his hair from his sweat and blood wet forehead. "I don't want to go with him. Rather the devil you know, right," you softly chuckle, trying to pull his energy back.

Even though you know the both of you have no chance at the moment, you guess you're just looking for an affirmation that he isn't going to let you go and let this other man keep you for the next century.

"Please," you whisper, your waterline filling with tears.

Reaching towards you, Hoseok's hand constricts around your throat, pulling you into him like he has countless times before.

"You're mine," he growls through pained grunts. His anger lessened, distress replacing it. But he gives you the answer he could see you searching for.

"Yes," you nod subtly. Closing your eyes as you lean further into his hold.

"Get up," Kol orders, interrupting you.

Despite his tightening grip, you pull away from Hobi, standing as you were told. The elder vampire taking your arm leads you away through the bodies to the open doorway.

"Say goodbye Jung Hoseok," Kol calls back, leaving him injured and alone, making you wish more than ever that you could pull back. "And do not worry, I'll take very good care of her for you."