#not necessarily in an unhealthy sort of way but a reminder that individually

[bandsanitizer]

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[moondongeun]

It makes sense that Dongeun made Yeonjin her dream. After all, the root of her suffering is Yeonjin. And then Jaejun simply lets her do what she wants. Between the two of them, their influence is enough to not only ruin Dongeun's life, but inadvertently the lives of those they call friends. These friends are all stuck in a cycle where nothing changes, and it is Yeonjin who makes it so. "I do it because nothing will ever happen to me, and nothing will change no matter what." (Yeonjin, ep 1).

The rot in this friend group begins and ends with Yeonjin. Her parents are wealthy, she is pretty, and nothing in her life ever changes. She has never had to work for anything, has never known lack, and similarly, her husband and job were given to her as well. Her power has never been because of who she is, but is thanks to who supports her; first her mother, then her husband. Therefore, she never suffers, whether she is bullying someone at school or at work.

Jaejun has never been challenged in his life, and everything he has has been given to him. he's never really had to work for anything, and that's one of the reasons he hardly values anything, this includes people. He only values his own ego, his dog, Yeonjin, and now Yesol, who he's found is his daughter.

Sara never had to work for anything either, and then comes the point when has to work to set herself apart, to be unique and singular. Not necessarily for herself, but for her parents. Her parents are wealthy, but sara does not seem to have nothing that profits them, except for her art, and that particular talent only manifests when she is under the influence of drugs.

As for Myeongo, he acts as an errand boy. Myeongo's presence reminds Jaejun that he is superior, and leaves him to do his errands and dirty work, just as it was in highschool. Sara and Yeonjin use him as an errand boy as well, and minor criminal activities. I'm sure they are prepared to dispose of him at the slightest evidence that he is linked to something illegal. This is why Dongeun says that he has nothing to lose but his life; he has no wealth nor does he have people who love him.

When they were younger, the violence with which Sara and Myeongo treated Dongeun reflected those who they orbited ie. Yeonjin and Jaejun. The very essence of them has only ever been an echo of a reaction greater than themselves. Sara, though Yeonjin's best friend, is the a representation of her darker side, the cumulation of her evils. I personally headcanon that Sara smokes to forget, to be able to live with herself. Myeongo is the same for Jeon Jaejun, a reflection of his hidden cruelty. I also believe Myeongo drowns himself in alcohol every night until he blacked out because he has to live, not only with the deeds he has committed but also the way he is treated.

The entire group keep Hyejeong around for much the same reason they do Myeongo. Hyejeong is a sort of yes man; she adds nothing to thier friend group, but leeches of them. Lee sara and park yeonjin keep her around because she reminds them they are better than her. Jaejun tolerates her because Yeonjin no longer slept with him after she got married, so he turns to Hyejeong. Hyejeong is aware she is pretty and ususally uses it to get what she wants, a habit started back in highschool to get the keys to the gym from the PE teacher.

A less noticed individual but equally as important is the girl who was bullied after Dongeun, Kim Gyeongran. She still is still under the friends' thumb, though she is hardly acknowledged, and is an errand girl. She works at Jaejun's store, and is seen giving Yeonjin her shoes when she is at the station reading over her news script. I have hopes that she will join hands with Dongeun and drown all of them in a polar night.

All this to say that this group of friends are still trapped in high school, in a never ending time loop. No one realizes it because the only people they accept into their inner circle is each other; its an unhealthy codependency. They may think they have progressed and become successful in life, but notice none of them have lasting relationships except for Yeonjin. None of them have anyone to really rely on outside of each other. Now, Dongeun is turning them paranoid and against each other. When they are isolated and without wealth or the support of their friends? What will they do then?

[scriptlgbt]

TW: Transmisogyny, and mentions of sexual assault

Ask

Hi, I'd like to mention my ask is on sexual assault.

The victim (f) and abuser (m) are both cis and straight and the victim now shys away from men. But how would she see people who are not cis? Could she see a trans woman as an abuser if she knew she had a penis aka has the body part that the abuser used? How about a trans man? Or another gender identity? Especially if gender identity is not easily seen or when people don't pass as their wanted* gender. Say, the victim says she needs a woman's comfort and approaches a nonbinary character who uses male* pronouns, I don't know how to deal with that. I don't want to make it sound cissexist or transphobic but still be able to validate abuse triggers and circle of comfort. Otherwise my only solution is to put all non cis people or even cis people who are nonconforming and don't present as cis out of scences with the victim, but isn't that cissexist?

Answer

I first need to link our Writing Trans Characters: Corrections of Common Mistakes post, as you've made a couple of missteps when it comes to wording. I have put red asterisks beside the issues, if it helps any. But just in case, the first one should either just say "their gender" or "their actual gender" rather than "their wanted gender" and the second asterisk is covered in the linked post.

First, I think you are asking about how one hypothetical individual would respond when this isn't necessarily the purview of this blog. Everyone responds differently to sexual assault. Not all responses are healthy coping mechanisms. And some people get PTSD and some don't. (And contrary to popular belief: the presence of PTSD is not always 1:1 with the severity of the event. But I digress.)

I can try to advise on writing this in a respectful way. I don't think people who aren't trans women specifically are qualified to write a version of this story that involves genitalia as being the factor for safety. It is specifically trans women who are constantly seen as predatory and whose genitals are seen as disqualifying them from experiencing oppression. Despite trans women facing some of the highest rates of sexual violence out of any other demographic. It would be most responsible for you as a writer to write this character's aversion to be around people who directly remind her of her assailant. Personally, I do double takes around people with the hair cut and colour of my rapist. For different reasons, I also can't deal with people when they are expressing anger, especially if it involves some kind of angry interaction with their environment, like kicking a wall or slamming down a keyboard or mouse. My reaction is to become small or initiate a fawn response, especially if I can't flee. I'm probably projecting with this one but for other survivors that I've talked to, a lot of our trauma is more about the circumstances than people who fit a whole category that our rapist belongs to. Things like a certain style of bench, certain events, florescent lighting. Being alone with just one other person you don't know very well in a situation can also make things harder. I think it makes sense to be skittish around men after experiencing violence from them. BUT It does not makes sense to group an exceptionally marginalized group of women in with them, in a fictional story you are writing. There's just too much baggage to address there, too many things tied up in that which are harmful (explicitly transmisogynist) when put in public.

It also goes into committing sexual harassment to actually ask and assume the genitalia of people you interact with. That's not information everyone has the right to, regardless of what they've been through.

Trans women are targeted by narratives that claim their bodies are somehow dangerous. Often it revolves around their genitalia, regardless of what their genitalia actually is, regardless of who they are, regardless of their experiences as survivors (when applicable, which is at least 47% of the time). That's a very specific, very transmisogynist belief. It is specifically used to justify taking their lives.

I am not trying to deny that trauma can be illogical. But it is unhealthy, maladaptive, and oppressive, to use trauma in order to marginalize people. Writing this into something fictional is dangerously irresponsible and will most likely be used as transmisogynist propaganda. Even if you mean well. It is an attitude which people use to rationalize policies which criminalize trans women and put them in extremely dangerous situations just for existing. This sort of thing has been used to rationalize hate crimes and, in cases where transmisogynoir has come into play, lynchings.

For these reasons among others, I would find a different way to write your character's triggers. Or else get a trans woman survivor to co-write these scenes. I do not trust that anyone outside of that group could write this in a way that is remotely respectful.

- mod nat

*Note: I am TME, but a TMA person was involved in sensitivity-reading this answer.

[sepublic]

Isaac’s Coming-of-Age Moment

           I find Isaac’s talk with the Captain in Season 3 weirdly… sweet, in a sense?

           Like… I kind of get this vibe from Isaac during their conversation that he’s basically some hot-headed, emotional youth, who is confused in a lot of ways, basically a teenager, and he just really needs some actual guidance, a positive adult/parental figure in his life that he can actually count on! Which, I don’t want to infantilize Isaac, but then again he does refer to himself and Hector as children who need to grow up in Season 4, so maybe I’m not too far off.

           I dunno, I just get the feel that as someone who’s been alone for a LONG while, without any real positive interactions with people or older figures… Isaac’s just in a kind of generally moody, angsty sort of headspace akin to an angsty teenager, obviously unreasonable in some regards, but not truly, his feelings are valid and you can tell that by the end of the day, he just wants to be left alone and in peace.

           So it feels really sweet to have Isaac actually like- Talk to an older figure who for once is acting as a mentor, passing on some real wisdom and guidance. The Captain can tell that Isaac needs someone to help him through what is a VERY confusing part of his life, a part that will decide a lot for him –again, like a teenager- and he’s very patiently and considerately advising Isaac; But at the same time, he’s not condescendingly lecturing him either. The Captain shows Isaac a lot of respect and consideration, and is both talking to him as an equal, but also as a mentor if that makes sense.

           And to me, that’s just really nice and heartwarming to watch, because with Dracula also in mind, I’m lowkey getting the impression of Isaac as this like; Jaded youth who secretly yearns for approval by someone for once, we can kind of see this from his abuser in the flashback. 

          Isaac hasn’t quite completely gotten over this, but with the Captain, Isaac can finally get that validation and support that he really needs and craves from an older figure, in a way that isn’t toxic and unhealthy. And I love Dracula and I will always applaud his decision to save Isaac’s life at the end of Season 2, how THAT led to Isaac learning to live for himself, I will forever love that moment even more from now on;

           But I think Dracula and I can both agree that he’s not, like. The healthiest role model nor person for Isaac to look up to, nor dedicate himself towards. Really, nobody is the healthiest person for Isaac to dedicate himself towards, he needs to live for himself after all! So it really was for the best that Isaac had himself cut off from that sort of toxic dependency; Dracula is an ENORMOUS step-up from Isaac’s abuser, sure, but he still represented Isaac’s refusal to really value himself, only just in relation to others.

           Anyhow, I really appreciate that talk where Isaac low-key finds a bit of a Father Figure in the Captain. Maybe I’m just protecting a little, but I found it very endearing how the Captain talks directly to Isaac as a person, in many ways he’s kind of firm and fair, but in a way that shows that he actually CARES about Isaac, and not that he’s just trying to get his own way. 

          Like, the Captain is interested in seeing Isaac prosper, but he’s not toxically dedicating himself to Isaac, the way Isaac would’ve done to Dracula’s memory; And that ability to help others and invest in them, while still being yourself, was no doubt enlightening for Isaac.

           Just… that side-eye glance of Isaac’s bear the end, actually stopping to think and consider, when the Captain tells him that hey, you can be a ruler! An almost endearing kind of immature desire to deny this in a rather “It’s not a PHASE” type of way, but it is in fact clearly getting to him, whether he likes to admit or not, and it’s kind of flustering Isaac. When the Captain gives him no shit but still treats him like a person. In general, all of Isaac’s interactions in Season 3 came from older figures who were a lot more experienced than him, which I think just adds to this idea that… 

          He really is kind of young and inexperienced in a lot of ways. And he really needs some second opinions to surround himself with, perspectives that are at times differing; Which I think is a neat contrast with Carmilla, who mostly relies on an echo chamber of her sisters and isn’t very receptive to different opinions.

           But yeah, Isaac is an utter mood, basically a moody, edgy teenager, who just needs some love and cherishing, some real mentorship and guidance, provided with actual respect and consideration, so he can get through what is an incredibly confusing AND formative period of his life. 

          It makes me all the more happy that it turns out for the best for him, and I really want to see a fic where like; Him and Hector encounter Dracula and Lisa, with all four on healthier terms, and Dracula’s sort of joy at seeing his other two sons being happy and living for themselves like he’d hoped- While Hector and Isaac are lowkey like, “See Dad! See how we’ve really become our own person, isn’t that really cool?” In that sort of excited, endearing way where they show a lot of respect and admiration, and place a lot of faith and trust in Vlad’s opinion. 

          Because even if they aren’t dependent on Dracula’s opinion, it’s still nice to see him validated and swell with pride, to actually see his Forge Masters get along as he’d always hoped. Like a sort of Coming of Age moment where they happily reflect on how much they’ve grown, to people who’d really respect and appreciate it, telling them that hey, your love for me, it paid off- It really meant a lot and I’m happy to tell the both of us that it wasn’t for nothing, it really meant SO much to me and helped, thank you!

           It’s just… Really endearing how we can see Isaac comfortably, in a safe space and level of interaction that isn’t plagued by threat nor violence; Afford to get snappy with someone else, like he can actually express his feelings at the Captain, but he doesn’t have to worry about holding himself to a subordinate level like with Dracula. Isaac can just be himself without having to constantly brace himself for the possibility of conflict or bloodshed, he can just comfortably exist in this space with a stranger and actually, fully, talk with someone who he feels actually gets and understands him on some level.

          Isaac is in a good environment where he can just let himself out, and it’s incredibly refreshing to watch- It was no doubt extremely cathartic to Isaac, I imagine. And it really stands to show that just as Lisa advised Dracula, traveling around the world really can be good for your health, for opening your mind and worldview; So it’s sweet to see that Dracula ended up passing on and applying Lisa’s wisdom to his low-key son, and that wisdom DID end up working out for him in the end! Thanks, Lisa.

         Now I can only imagine Isaac talking to Lisa about this and feeling really grateful, because she ended up inspiring HIM as well… And Lisa just looks wryly at Dracula like, Oh so you DID take my advice, and not only that, passed it onto others as well?

         And THAT just makes me imagine an older Isaac who continues the cycle of not abuse, but growth and guidance, who sees himself later on in another angry youth who reminds him a lot of himself, and then guides them to be more constructive- Because believe it or not, this wise King DOES understand what it’s like.

         He chuckles to himself when he realizes how the tables have turned, how HE’s the one giving The Talk to some kid, and he kindly, nostalgically, gratefully reflects on the Captain’s wisdom, and how it lives on through him and now this youth. Isaac and the kid are not so different and this realization of similarity and common ground just helps Isaac with accepting that human part of himself, and reaching out compassionately.

         Isaac is joked with and given much-needed fun and levity, while still taken seriously and respected as an individual; And I’m sure it means a lot to him, not that he fully realizes it yet. The Captain really expresses faith and belief in Isaac to grow up and support others through his own wisdom, the Captain sees himself in Isaac and that’s really fascinating- How this stranger is acting on this empathy to talk to Isaac and relate to him, to humanize him as a person for once. And it’s kind of shocking for Isaac to realize that others can actually relate to and see themselves in him, this alleged ‘monster’ and ‘thing’.

         It’s just neat to see an older figure express belief and expectation in Isaac to be something good because he thinks the best of him, rather than Isaac dedicating his belief to someone else, and it kind of inspires and incentivizes Isaac to do better with his life. That maybe he CAN grow and this isn’t the end for him, and one day teach others- Because maybe he DOES have something valuable to offer! The Captain recognizes Isaac as someone with potential and growth, and the ability to nurture and be positive, and I love that. 

         Especially with how Isaac dedicates himself to Dracula and his ‘wisdom of ages’, only for the Captain to turn around and suggest that Isaac himself has his own knowledge worth passing on, and that’s more than enough reason for Isaac to live for himself, then. It’s very nice to see Isaac lowkey latch onto a positive authority figure and actually be emotionally rewarded for it like he needs and deserves. And it’s even sweeter how Isaac leaves the Captain with an amicable farewell wave, and even AFTER an immediate negative experience, Isaac still decides to do better, showing that his lessons really can apply and retain underneath hardship.

         Isaac is challenged but in a healthy way that he can actually engage with and really apply himself towards, because he is a very clever person, he’s allowed to think and be rewarded for it. And it makes it all the more interesting how Isaac in Season 4 does see himself as a holy figure in a sense, not necessarily out of arrogance I feel, but from a real understanding that he’s worth a lot himself. And now Isaac can embrace happily his own self-value and what he has to offer, and his ability to do good, that maybe he ISN’T a monster but in some ways a hero, imagine that!

           (Actually, maybe Castlevania really IS a Coming-of-Age tale in a sense. Hector and Isaac’s growth are obvious, we know Trevor and Alucard is admittedly kind of emotionally stunted teenagers who learn to open up and trust, and even Sypha has her moments where she sees how the world can really suck –like the end of Season 3- before deciding for herself to have agency and initiative, and not be a bit player in someone else’s story regardless, in addition to openly defying some Speaker traditions like a rebellious teenager, because good for her! A narrative about really learning to take initiative and control of your own story, to live life for yourself, DOES seem very Coming-of-Age now does it?)

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

Character analysis on steve? If you're okay with it...

Ah, Steve. We like Steve.

Seriously, Steve is probably my second favorite character (behind Will). I see Steve as a triumph of character development. His Season 1 arc was a redemption angle done right. He accepted his flaws and mistakes, and he took steps to make things right with the people he hurt (Nancy and Jonathan). Steve is also a good character to use for the identity development post I wanted to make. 

Identity development is a part of personal growth that generally starts around early adolescence. This process is often considered to be complete by late adolescence, but can actually continue into what we can call “emerging adulthood” (like the years spent in college, for example). I’ll be using the theory described by James Marcia, as a follow up to Erik Erikson’s theory of developmental stages. Marcia described two components to identity development: the identity crisis and identity commitment. These two components result in four different “stages” of identity formation: diffusion, foreclosure, moratorium, and achievement.

Identity Diffusion is where a youth has not committed to any distinct identity, nor has he/she experienced any sort of identity crisis that would result in exploration. They go through life somewhat aimlessly, not having any clear goals or sense of self. It’s a rather passive look at life. I consider El to be in this stage, at least until Max comes into her life.

Identity Foreclosure is where a youth has not had any sort of identity crisis that resulted in exploration, but has still made a commitment. This is generally the result of simply going with what family, culture, society, etc. have set down as “correct.” Think the kid who goes into the family business simply because he accepts that it’s what he is meant to do. Or the small-town woman who settles down with a nice man, regardless of her feelings, because she’s told that’s her role in life. This is not necessarily unhealthy, but since it comes at the cost of exploration, it can result in unhappiness. I consider Karen Wheeler to be here due to the many regrets she seems to have. This is also a stage I feel Steve was in when we first met him.

Identity Moratorium is where a youth is actively exploring possibilities, but has not made a commitment. This is the result of an identity crisis (not necessarily as dire as it sounds) that has caused the youth to question life as he or she knows it. He or she is beginning to challenge the expectations set down for him/her, testing boundaries, and considering that previous “truths” may not be what he/she thought they were. This can be common after a major life change, such as moving to a new home or going to college, that reveals previously unknown possibilities. Many young adolescents in America go through this stage, but it is not universal. This is where I see El shifting to after Max urges her to “try things on,” and it’s where I think Steve ended up in Season 2.

Identity Achievement is the final stage, and it represents a youth having given a great deal of thought and exploration to who he or she is before coming to a conclusion. Goals, values, and ideals have been established as a result of thorough exploration. This is not a finish line really, as future identity crises can disrupt this and result in a shift to one of the other stages (depending on how the individual reacts). I’m not sure any of the characters are definitively in this stage, but I do think we’ve gotten a good look at Steve at least heading in this direction.

When we first meet Steve, he is the typical high school alpha male. He was popular, from a well-off family, handsome, and charming. He seems to be playing the part very well and in all of its superficial glory. Despite the power and influence he wants to exude, we can see how fragile it all really is. Most of his horrible behavior is done in the presence of his friends, which suggests he’s doing it to impress them, not because he really sees himself that way. When we see him away from them, there’s a goofy, boyish guy who is actually charming, and this is probably the version that Nancy is attracted to. Steve isn’t really the asshole he seems to be, but rather he’s acting the way he thinks he’s supposed to. 

We see cracks in Steve’s identity foreclosure when he tells off his friends. He’s not in full-fledged crisis, as he’s still considering himself as “King Steve,” but it’s a sign of things to come. We can see the nice guy he really is underneath the mask when goes to the Byers’ house to apologize to Jonathan, and again when he charges back into the house despite knowing the danger. 

It isn’t until Season 2 that he actually hits a crisis that results in identity exploration. This is where two main life events happen: he gets dumped by Nancy, and Billy shows up to challenge his social superiority. Everything he thought he knew about himself is now in doubt. Even before this we see his uncertainty when Nancy is critiquing his college essay. Everything had come so easily to Steve before, but now it’s all starting to crash down around him. He goes off on his mission with Dustin after attempting to apologize to Nancy. He didn’t know what he was apologizing for, but rather he was trying to cling to what he was losing. It’s while he’s with Dustin (and eventually Lucas and Max) that he starts to consider aspects of life he didn’t before. He actually starts to enjoy having these kids around, regardless of how much he pretends not to. It’s a natural fit for his goofy and caring personality. “It turns out I’m a pretty damn good babysitter” is a funny line, but it’s also a sign that he’s embracing the role.

In Season 3, there’s still some signs of old Steve, but they are weak. His attempts to flirt with ladies who come in for ice cream fall flat and seem very forced. This is a sign that this part of Steve’s life is over, but that he’s not fully let it go yet. His adorably dorky greeting ritual with Dustin is a reminder of his new self, and let’s us know that he genuinely enjoys spending time with Dustin (and possibly the others), and has accepted his big brother role. Still, Steve is continuously knocked and challenged, particularly by Dustin and Robin. This is essentially the final chipping away of his old identity. His selflessness comes out fully as he takes on soldiers to protect the others. He tells Robin how he’s come to like her, despite her not being the kind of trophy girl he used to go for, and takes it with grace and good humor when she explains why they won’t work. Steve is essentially a brand new person, and it is portrayed in such a wonderful manner.

We can’t say for sure that Steve has reached Identity Achievement. I’d say he’s well on his way to it though. We can see that he has values, but does he have any plans for his future? That was another issue for him in Season 3, as he found out he couldn’t even get into tech. What I can say is that Steve has made great progress. I look forward to seeing more from Steve in Season 4. 

Correction: Steve was unable to get into tech, not community college. The post has been edited to account for this.

[panlight]

as much as I love the soulmate aspect of vampire mating I hate how smeyer describes them as perfectly in sync and always on the same page (especially in Carlisle/Esme's case) cause it suggests that there is no need for communication/no arguments which if anything is a sign of an unhealthy relationship. do you think that the Cullen couples argue? there's no way that it's clear water and smooth sailing all the time. and if so what do they argue about?

I’m just not here for anything that’s “All Vampires X.”  Vampires used to be humans, and humans have so many different kinds of relationships, romantic or otherwise, so I’m just not interested in like, “all vampires love their mates like X, and will react like Y if Z happens” because that erases individuality and is boring. I think the wiggle room with vampire mating canon is that “never fall out of love” doesn’t necessarily always mean “always get along.” It’s not imprinting; one person doesn’t have to be what the other needs at the loss of their own free will, there can still be arguments and “I love you but shut up!!”  I think with Carlisle and Esme specifically for the first few years of their relationship they had Edward there, and as a mind-reader with literally nothing better to do, he was sort of helping them smooth out any bumps in the road or miscommunications. “Carlisle maybe you should take a week off? You’ve been working a lot and Esme is feeling neglected.” “Esme, Carlisle had a rough day at the hospital maybe you should go comfort him” etc. And then Edward leaves. And they’re not only dealing with missing him and worrying about him but they’ve also lost that supernatural assistance and for the first time in their marriage they have to like . . . actually just communicate with each other in a normal, human way and I imagine there was a lot of growth during that period. They had to learn to get back on the same page without Edward’s hints and prodding and it was probably good for them in the long run although hard at the time. 

Carlisle and Esme disagree on things within the series but they seem mature enough that it doesn’t become a big blow out. Carlisle is 100% opposed to killing Bella at the Murder Meeting, but Esme’s stance is more nebulous--she just wants to keep Edward with the family, whatever plan that might take. But they don’t seem to fight about it. Carlisle is in favor of terminating the pregnancy that is threatening Bella’s life, Esme is in favor of keeping the baby, but they seem to understand it’s a situation with a lot of nuance and gray area and aren’t at each other’s throats about it (Esme’s a mother who lost a child--of course she’d want to keep the baby; Carlisle’s a son whose mother died giving birth to him--of course the life of the mother would be his first priority). I think they usually tend to hash things out away from the ‘kids’ and at this point are pretty good at communicating in an adult, healthy way. 

But they do still argue about trivial things. Esme is just like, totally over all the sad and creepy paintings in Carlisle’s collection. “They remind me of a certain time in my life” “But WHY do you want to remember them?!” and they argue about where he can display them. Carlisle gets annoyed when she gets really into a medical drama or soap opera all like “this does not reflect how it is to work in a real hospital at all. Nobody who works in a hospital looks like a movie star.” “YOU do!” “. . .”  I think they still have a difference of opinion on vampirism in general. Esme seems to be more Bella-like about it, and sees it sort of as a second chance at life and happiness and 100% sees it as Carlisle saving her vs ‘dooming’ or ‘damning’ her whereas Carlisle is still ambivalent. Sometimes she’s annoyed by his lingering guilt and sometimes he’s baffled by how little she worries about souls and atonement.

[aquilaofarkham]

title: end of sanctuary rating: M (violence, gore, disturbing elements, psychological horror, discussions of trauma) chapter count: ongoing summary: Trevor and Sypha enter Alucard’s dream world in order to help him confront, examine, and heal from his trauma while also reevaluating their own personal demons. Cover art by @kamek​ 💖

additional links: donations for RAINN donations for the Institute on Violence, Abuse, and Trauma

READ CHAPTERS ONE & TWO

I NEED A MIRACLE AND NOT SOMEONE’S CHARITY

The candelabras are made from human arms. Nails chipped, fingers discoloured and pale as they keep their iron grip on brass made to look like gold. Dim candle light flickers against darkness, dripping hot wax along the skin, burning it. They hold on without wavering, do their duty and light the way for their passenger in the corridor. 

Yet with every slow step forward, closer along the individual halos of fire, the candles move away from him before they’re snuffed out by an unseen and unfelt wind. There’s nothing behind him, he is alone; so he believes. So would anyone believe, surrounded by the dark and the quiet. 

He walks on, further and further, paying no attention to each broken shard of glass littering the hard floor. They cut deep into the soles of his bare feet. Smears of fresh blood follow him, wetting the cold stone beneath, but he doesn’t stumble nor slip. He knows it should be painful, realizes that he should stop, and notices how the candelabras continue to inch ever so subtly away from his presence before extinguishing themselves while his back is against them. 

There is nothing on his placid face, nothing in his amber eyes. No indicative expression of what he feels within and outside. Where there should be agony, there is only apathy. Where there should be fear, apprehension, there is only a complacent incentive to put one mangled and bloody foot in front of the other.

A thin white nightgown hangs off his body, not nearly long enough to cover his legs, leaving him both guarded and exposed. Another vulnerability he doesn’t care to rectify just as he doesn’t care for the voice speaking to him in one of those darker corners of the mind. It warns him in a whimpered tone: “there is something behind you”.

It’s uncertain whether this “something” has only just appeared or if it’s been following him since the first candles went out. But he can feel it closing in, lapping up the blood he’s left behind as an offering while he approaches the very last candelabra. It begins to turn away, the light repelled by his mere existence, and he stops. Come to the end of his meaningless journey. 

His unseen stalker remains silent, even when he can feel its hot breath as it caresses the back of his neck. He hears a sound akin to the wings of a creature much larger than himself stretching themselves out, preparing for flight. Weary eyes fixate on the last trembling candle flames, holding onto their last seconds of life. 

Still, he does not turn around. Barely a flinch even as the nightgown is carefully pulled down, displaying broad shoulders and the top of his chest. His long hair that matches the gold of his disinterested eyes tickles the newly bared skin like feathers. Both parts of his body are caged by precise scars not yet fully healed. 

Cold leathery skin presses down upon his shoulders, rough against soft. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a hand reach around from behind. Massive, clawed, and inescapable. Using a single deft nail, it gifts him a choker made of ruby red drops that slide down his neck before outlining the curves and crevices of his chest. With the blood comes a revelation that brings neither peace nor panic, only acceptance:

I am with myself.

–

Alucard listens to the distant voices of Trevor and Sypha talking, huddled into his blankets, his cheek pressed firmly against his pillow. They didn’t necessarily wake him because in order for one to be “woken up”, they have to be in the deep throes of sleep and dreams to begin with. Alucard was never asleep; not for very long. And his vision was far from a dream, yet he wouldn’t consider it a nightmare either. More like a personal realization; something he already seems aware of and his mind is only giving him a helpful reminder. 

The kitchen is five levels down from the guest bedchambers, but he can still hear them, if only as low indistinct mumbles. He can hear certain things more than ever before. Rats scuttling about within the castle walls searching for their next crumb of discarded food or an old grandfather clock ticking the seconds away before ringing out three deep chimes to signal midnight. Out of all his hereditary gifts most humans will never achieve, Alucard used to feel displeasure with this one the least. Then it had to grow more attuned, long past when he needed it most. Overstayed its welcome and now it’s useless. 

He can’t even make out the words spoken between Trevor and Sypha.

“How long do you think he’s had those?” 

The two travelers both feel as though they’re staring at themselves in a mirror crafted by a rather creative toddler. If not that, then a very doting grandmother or toymaker. A pair of dolls placed side by side on a kitchen counter, fashioned out of simple cloths stuffed with wool, buttons for eyes, and spoons in place of limbs. One is dressed in blue to match its eyes with orange fabric atop its head shaped meant to resemble short curls. The other sits next to an empty wine bottle in simple beige with two tiny red straps across its body and brown yarn for its own hair.

“I suppose not very long.” Sypha replies, bent down in order to get a much closer look at their little imposters. It’s the details of each doll; Trevor’s scar along one eye, a thin piece of string attached to his hip, and the high collar of Sypha’s robe. Alucard made these with care and attention, like he remembered every inch of them. Each individual thread, each stitch a reflection of themselves through the eyes of someone who desired their company.

Neither one is entirely sure whether to be charmed or concerned.

Sypha picks up her twin and taps at one of the button eyes with a fingernail. “I think they’re cute. Well made, too.” 

Trevor finds it difficult to share her amusement. He knows what an unhealthy coping skill looks like; he could write an entire book on the subject. “Finding a hobby to keep yourself entertained for a couple months is all well and good but don’t you think this meant something else for him? Like a cry for help?”

Sypha holds the doll awkwardly before setting it back down in silent agreement. The worry was there before but perhaps she didn’t want to admit it. After all that’s happened, she needs some respite; to see something and not contemplate its’ darker connotations. Then Trevor had to go and validate her initial unspoken concerns about Alucard. The dolls are not the first sign; they knew something was amiss when they walked down the battered halls of the castle, stepping over untouched broken glass and rubble. 

They knew even sooner when those bodies came into view. Both are gone now, removed days ago with haste out of disgust and before other wandering outsiders began to suspect anything, but the blood is still there. Sunken deep into the earth, staining the grass then drying up. Sypha can’t look down, no matter how many times she steps outside.

“There’s so much he will not tell us…” Her thought, voiced by a hushed tone is interrupted by a mere glance at the clock. “Look. The day is half gone and we still haven’t seen him at all.” A sense of responsibility and a desire to help surges through her, the same sort that’s always been a vital part of Sypha’s lifeblood. “We should cook him something. That might open him up to talking.”

Trevor nods. “I’ll go get him. I can only take so many “I’m fines” before I grab him by the shoulders and shake out whatever’s torturing him.”

Sypha expected such a plan. The way that Trevor cares, considers, and perhaps even loves is rougher than how others do it. It may have worked for him all those years alone with no one else to offer comfort, but it might not work now; not for Alucard. “Please don’t do that.” 

It takes little time for Trevor to traverse the castle from its kitchen to its hall of bedrooms; during their first day back, he asked Alucard if he had any maps to spare. Perhaps too subtle of a joke as the dhampir merely shrugged it off and showed them to their own chambers. Before either one could say another word, another joined expression of relief to see him again, Alucard was gone. Glided out through the door as though he were a passing phantom.

Trevor stops at one of the doors and raps his knuckles against the carved door. Of course there’s no answer, but he’s lucky enough to have it already ajar. Alucard won’t care if he slips in; he doesn’t seem to care about much these days.

“Hey. You awake?” A human-shaped lump covered in blankets stirs atop the bed with its simple, humble canopy; sturdy and made entirely of wood. Nothing like the extravagant transparent silk curtains of Trevor and Sypha’s bed. A head of golden hair pokes out but doesn’t turn around. No, you’re right, Trevor thinks. It was a stupid question. Alucard’s complicated relationship with sleep runs deep.

“Sypha and I are making breakfast… though I guess it’s lunch now.”

No need to finish his query; Alucard can answer it. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something. You can’t fool me, I know that half-vampires can still eat human food.”

“I will eat later.”

First strike then second soon after without a moment’s hesitation. Trevor already knows there will be more if they continue like this but he won’t resort to ripping off the covers and carrying Alucard over his shoulder. Sypha wouldn’t approve of that. Even worse, he’d be choking on his own blood before reaching the door, torn out by a certain pair of fangs.

Trevor wants to remain alive. More importantly, he wants Alucard’s demeanor to be a bit brighter. Straightforwardness won’t work, but a different method might. If not, it will at least give Alucard some irresistible blackmail to use against him. Retracing his way through the castle, Trevor makes a mad dash back down into the kitchen. Alucard listens, one ear against his pillow, the other exposed. More voices, more words he cannot understand, followed by a series of quick footsteps coming closer, rising in volume until they stop. Something tiptoes towards his bed. What is it now?

“Alucard… Aluuuucaaaard.”

His sleep-deprived eyes open just a touch wider. It sounds like Trevor’s voice, only with a slightly higher pitch and an imitation of Sypha’s Iberian accent which straddles the line between charming and good enough reason for her to box his ears. 

“Please get out of bed. If you don’t come down, I will be sooooooo upset.” Alucard contemplates burying his head underneath the pillow until he feels another presence on the bed; small, light, and flimsy like a doll.

The doll. Panic quickly seeps in, turning Alucard’s body rigid. They found the dolls. He knew it was going to happen but he needed more time to prepare his admittedly troubling explanation. It would have been better if Trevor and Sypha never found them at all; he should have locked the stupid things away and not keep them in plain sight. For this situation, Alucard blames no one but himself.

“We have food, Alucard! Delicious, scrumptious food.”

Still, it is amusing to hear the rugged Belmont carry on in this manner. “I know that’s you, Trevor.”

“I’m not Trevor! I’m Sypha Belnades, the smartest and most powerful Speaker in the entire world! And if you don’t get out of bed, I’ll burn off all your hair with my fire magic.”

Alucard stifles a chuckle at the similarities between Trevor’s impression of Sypha and his own. They both must know her too well. “For some reason I don’t think you’re the real Sypha Belnades.”

“But I am!”

“Really? Then why do you feel much, much smaller and why does your voice sound like that?”

“I was cursed! By… by a witch! That bitch turned me into this. Now I’m trapped in this pitiful body. But if you have lunch with us, the spell will be broken!” This time Alucard doesn’t try to hold back his laughter. Trevor is clearly having too much fun with his little acting production. But when Alucard, despite his brightening mood, remains in bed with his back turned to him, he nuzzles the doll against the dhampir’s cheek.

“Alright, that’s enough of you.”

“Pleeeeeeease, Alucard?” Trevor moves “Sypha” all along his blanketed body as if attempting to tickle him. Alucard feebly waves his free arm, trying to resist but he feels the doll everywhere; on every inch of him. Moving over the scars.

“Enough, Trevor…”

“Pleeeeease do it for meeeeee?”

Alucard flips over and swiftly grabs Trevor’s wrist. “I said that’s enough!”

The two men finally see each other eye to eye, surprised against panic-stricken, as Trevor’s hold on the Sypha doll wavers. A tense moment passes before Alucard loosens his grip as well, realizing how tightly his fingers dig into the skin. Had his nails been sharpened, they might have gone straight through and down to the bone. His intense gaze relaxes and he lets go.

“I… I will be down shortly.”

Trevor nods then leaves. In a way, his ridiculous plan worked yet he doesn’t feel successful or proud. He doesn’t even stay long enough to hear a regret-filled “sorry” shyly muster its way out of Alucard.

–

Dracula’s modern inventions are a marvel—and a nuisance. 

Trevor and Sypha endlessly fiddle with the kitchen’s large contraption. A beast of burning wood logs crafted from metal and copper that’s been seemingly neutered by their shared incompetence. They could wait for Alucard instead of fumbling around until both of them reach their limits of agitation. But the idea was to surprise him with a fully prepared meal the moment he walks through the door. Light a few candles, pour three glasses of finely aged wine; just as Alucard would do for himself. 

Now they’ve wasted too much time wrestling with basic cooking mechanisms, pining for the days when they could create their own version of hearty gourmet food using only a simple campfire. Even Trevor found himself scrounging about in the cellar, stepping over broken glass, all for a decent bottle.

“I’m using my magic,” Sypha finally announces.

“Don’t do that.”

“I am. I have had enough of this stupid thing.”

“You’ll burn the whole bloody castle down if you do.”

“Would that be such a terrible thing?”

Her reply causes Trevor to stop and think. Just as she whispered exclamations of awe and wonder after first setting her eyes upon the Belmont Hold, Sypha was mesmerized by the castle’s sheer size, the depths of its architecture, and the intricacies of its numerous machinations. Part of her regretted the use of the word “grotesque” before she crushed the castle’s heart in her own hands thus transforming the engine room into an irreparable mess.

She felt so young back then. Now she sees Dracula’s castle for what it truly is and what it may be destined to remain as; a place that causes pain. A place that hurts anything caught within its walls.

Trevor searches every corner of the room before settling on a loaf of bread, a wheel of cheese, and some strips of dry meat hanging from hooks. “He’ll be down soon, let’s just put together something quick.” 

He pulls Sypha away and brings her to the nearest countertop just as she contemplates melting the oven down into a steaming puddle. She glares at the butcher’s knife placed into her hand then at the three food items in front of her. Seems too simple given the other ingredients surrounding them, but their time was cut short to begin with.

In the midst of their frantic slicing, pouring, and preparing, they pause to hear delicate footsteps making their way down the corridor. Alucard appears in the doorway, shoulders slouched and the dark circles under his eyes visible even from a distance. He doesn’t announce himself, though his silence does nothing to alleviate the awkward atmosphere. Taking his seat at the table, Sypha joins him along with Trevor, his hands full of three plates. He places them down unceremoniously.

“There. A meal fit for a prince.”

The two wait in anticipation while Alucard sits motionless. He examines the plate’s contents, his so-called “prince’s meal”: layers of stacked goat cheese and bacon sandwiched between two decently sliced pieces of sourdough bread with a thin twig of rosemary placed on top as a last minute garnish. Not a single vegetable or fruit in sight. Then Trevor and Sypha see something from Alucard that’s been missing for almost the length of an entire week following their return: a smirk. Subdued, but plain to see on his placid face.

“Did you make these, Trevor?”

“We both did, but it was Trevor’s idea,” Sypha answers in his stead. Alucard presses his lips tighter together, an honest attempt to keep whatever’s behind them locked away—a laugh perhaps? Hard to believe as it may seem.

“What?” Trevor demands. “What is it about my cooking that makes you giggle like a young nun who’s seen something naughty?”

“There is nothing wrong with your taste in food this time… shockingly so. I’m just remarking on how… humble this all looks. I expected nothing less from you both. Thank you.”

While Alucard takes his first few bites, Trevor and Sypha look to each other with uncertain expressions. He was always genuine in the small ways he showed his gratitude towards them, and they hear that very same gratitude in his voice. But only a sliver of it; the rest felt clinical. Still, they got him out of bed. They got him to eat. That’s more success they’ve accomplished in less than an hour than they’ve had for days. What they need right now, what they all need, are small victories.

The silence they eat in is comfortable, almost peaceful. Trevor and Sypha both know it won’t last. The enjoyment they feel with each bite of juicy meat, strong cheese, and soft bread comes with a sense of guilt. They know the difficult topic of Alucard’s refusal to tell them anything will have to be brought up now. If not, the wound will only meet the same end that all others left untreated do: left to fester and rot until there’s no hope of talking to him.

Alucard seems oblivious to their eternal conflict; maybe it’s for the best. Once half of his sandwich is finished, he raises the glass of white wine and downs every last drop in one bold gulp. Trevor turns to his own glass, barely half empty.

“Show off.” He mumbles under his breath, though not quiet enough as it catches Alucard’s attention.

“Oh? Have I bested you in that particular skill set?”

“Don’t push your luck. I’m still ahead of you in experience. A good couple of years in fact.”

“Remember, there is just as much inhuman blood running through these veins as there is human. I have more of a tolerance when it comes to certain vices.”

“Give me something stronger than whatever I used to find in my aunt Delilah’s liquor cabinet and I’ll show you how to take certain vices with tolerance.”

It always happens like this between them, again and again, over and over no matter the circumstance or situation. One man must compare himself to the other, measuring up his own long list of successes and failures. Sypha suddenly loses interest in her food. This conversation could go in many different directions—merely thinking about the probabilities brings her no ease. 

“Well, you’ve never been one to refuse a challenge. Let’s test that famous Belmont tolerance, shall we?”

Before Sypha can interject, Trevor does instead, pushing her further into silence. His expression turns grim as he lowers the wine glass. “I’ll pass on that challenge.”

“Showing restraint? I didn’t think you knew the word.”

“No, I just don’t want to give you an excuse to keep drowning yourself in something that hasn’t been resolved yet.”

Sypha is an excellent judge of character; she considers it to be a gift the same way she regards her prowess in the mystic arts. Simple, quiet observations of how a person carries themselves, how they move the slightest inch, and how they react to certain provocations tell her more than words can. When she sees Alucard’s eyes narrow while his fingers curl in on themselves, Sypha braces herself despite being the only one who predicted this. This will not end the way she wanted it to.

Trevor doesn’t notice those sorts of things quick enough, not like her. If he did, he would have swallowed that tactless statement before it had the chance to escape. Wash it down with the very same white wine he so candidly belittled.

“You think I’m drowning myself. How so?”

“Look at yourself, Alucard.”

“I do. Every day, in the mirror. It’s not something I particularly enjoy doing.”

His words sting, laced with venom but Trevor and Sypha understand what he means. Their eyes are drawn to his wrists and that window of skin exposed by his shirt’s plunging neckline. He tries so hard to hide those new scars—the ones he still hasn’t explained—but more often than not, they catch glimpses of tender flesh turned raw and inflamed. They abhor the thought of him carrying more, yet haunted by the idea that their worries are not unfounded. 

If only he would talk to them. Truly and deeply talk to them. Not in this way.

“I also do not enjoy being spoken down to like a troubled infant incapable of making their own decisions.”

“I’m not talking down to you and I’m not trying to tell you what and what not to do.”

“Then what are you trying to do?”

“Sympathize, that’s all. And maybe help. I’ve been down that same road before and it’s not pretty.”

“I never asked for your help. I never gave you permission to coddle me, nor did I ever ask you to come back.”

“But you clearly wanted us to if those two dolls are any indication.”

“Those were not yours to see.”

“You left them out in the open! How could we not fucking see them?”

While voices and tensions rise with every heated exchange, Sypha breaks her vow of reluctant silence. “You cannot keep us in the dark like this forever, Alucard.” Both men turn towards her as all the words she left unspoken for days stumble out less like a steady stream and more like an untempered vomit. “Trevor is right; we just want to help. We want to understand what’s wrong and how we can all fix this. But you need to talk with us. What happened while we were gone? Who were those two outside the castle and why on earth did you display them like—”

A sudden loud clatter causes Sypha and Trevor to jump. Alucard holds his plate whiteknuckled while the rest of him shivers in quiet anger. He dropped it upon the table not hard enough to shatter but enough to crack. His half-eaten sandwich has fallen apart.

“I’m not hungry.” The chair scrapes loudly against the floor as Alucard pushes it back. He takes his leave without another word; not a bitter thank you or something far harsher. In a display of utter defeat, Trevor pushes away his own plate and rubs his face. A way of saying, “that was a fucking disaster”. And it all seemed to be going so well. 

Sypha doesn’t want to give in so easily. She follows Alucard out of the kitchen, her voice echoing off the castle’s stone archways and walls that dwarf them both. Nothing more than mice amongst giants.

“Alucard, please.” She calls out, still a fair distance away from him but catching up quickly. “We can fix this, just let us help you.”

“You can’t fix anything. Not even I could.”

Sypha knows she should be more careful with her choice of words but fears that if she hesitates for the slightest moment, she will lose him. He’ll retreat back into his room or another place deeper within the castle unbeknownst to her and Trevor, locking himself away in self-inflicted isolation, shutting out all daylight and human interaction.

“And you can’t keep punishing yourself like this either.” She’s close now; close enough to hold him. Close enough to lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I want to be alone.”

“Alucard…” Sypha keeps her touch light and gentle. For him, it’s just another weight, another burden that’s been forced upon him. A sense of bodily contact he did not ask for. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, Alucard feels her fingertips graze over a scar curving around his shoulder. He spins around and slaps Sypha’s hand away, his lips drawn back into a snarl, revealing fangs that have grown longer and sharper.

She takes a step back, then another until the divide between them is larger than it should ever be. There was no cry of shock or pain even as Sypha stares at Alucard with wide, possibly terrified eyes. He’s never seen her like this; not when their entire world was at stake. She holds the hand that was struck and then he sees it: three fresh claw marks. Alucard glances down at his own hand, though he already knows what he will find.

The rageful lines gracing his face soften while his eyes turn not just sad, but horrified. “Sypha, I…”

“What happened?” Trevor catches up to them, drawing Sypha into his arms. With the utmost care coupled with panic he takes her wounded hand and repeats the question, furiously shouting it in Alucard’s direction who stumbles with his answer.

“I—I didn’t mean—I won’t hurt—”

“What the hell did you do?”

Alucard forces out an apology, but is barely heard by either Trevor or Sypha. Again they fail to hear him when it matters most. They say nothing else, waiting for an admission they might never receive and stare at him as though they no longer recognize their friend. Friend. Alucard cannot breathe, cannot speak, yet his mind screams. Thoughts that plagued him for months which he tried burying now fully resurrected. Was he ever really their friend? Did they ever think of him that way? What must they think of him now?

Do they see him? Or do they see his father?

Trevor and Sypha’s poor attempts to make him stay fall on deaf ears. Alucard is gone from their sight, unable to hear their pleas. They’ll not see him again before the night comes.

–

“I’m not mad at him. It doesn’t even hurt that much.”

They don’t return to the kitchen. Instead, they traverse the ruined castle hallways until they reach what was once the foundation of Dracula’s genius and intellect. A laboratory filled with knowledge of a future not yet realized by humanity; or maybe a past that was deemed too heretical, too blasphemous by modern European institutions and so it fell into the hands of a monster. Knowledge that might thrive in the hands of someone else but now lies amongst broken machines, like every other room surrounding it. Still, there are smaller forms of medicine which Trevor uses to heal Sypha’s mild injuries. He rubs the cream over her hand, soothing the angry red scratch marks left behind by Alucard’s outburst.

“Well, there might be some bruising. Thankfully he didn’t draw any blood.”

“Would you have gone after him with your whip if he did?”

Trevor leaves the question as is; hovering in an awkward silence while he mentally searches for a change in conversation. Not because he doesn’t have a reply, but because he doesn’t want to face the conclusion he’s come to.

“Why doesn’t he use any of the medicine here? Continue his mother’s work, you know?”

“Maybe he’s just being cautious especially after what happened to her. Human beings are not ready for that sort of new knowledge yet.”

“And he spent more effort cleaning up my family ruins than he did with his own home.”

“You did give it to him as a gift.”

“But now that I really think about it, he never even liked the hold or its contents. It was a piss poor excuse for a gift.”

“Then why did you do that for him?”

He closes the lid on the jar of cream and places it back on the nearest shelf. Really, giving away his childhood home was done purely on impulse (as are most of Trevor’s decisions). But there was another motive, one he didn’t want to admit to at the time else a certain someone would endlessly mock him.

“He said he wanted to make the castle his grave and… I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let him wallow in guilt and self-pity anymore so I thought I’d give him something to live for. A project he could dedicate all his time to and take his mind off things. I didn’t think he’d actually take it to heart like that.”

Sypha gives him a tired smile. “What you did was selfless and good, Trevor Belmont. Give yourself more credit than that.”

He tries, yet all that transpires is an exasperated sigh. “I will never fucking understand what goes on inside his head.”

“Don’t you want to, though? Don’t you want to help with whatever is troubling him?”

“Sypha, I don’t think it’s that easy. You remember those bodies.”

“I try not to.” Nevertheless, she still wants to rationalize Alucard’s current actions which means those two corpses along with his new scars will have to be explained. Her stomach churns at the thought. It couldn’t have been as simple as the shallow excuse of attacking the castle then attacking him.

“I hate feeling so useless.”

Trevor gently brushes a stray curl of strawberry hair from her face. His smallest gestures of affection are the ones she loves the most. “I know you do. You always want to help others and save the day. That’s what makes you so wonderful.”

“Or naive.” Sypha almost misses the time when she was far more optimistic, when her view of the world was a touch brighter, but past comforts do not fix present miseries no matter how fondly we dwell upon them—actions do. “We can’t lose another friend.”

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Trevor pulls her in close and kisses her head. “We’ll give it more time. Try again tomorrow.”

–

It’s not another dream but if it were, Alucard would hardly be able to tell the difference. He saunters down the hall, past each flickering candelabra, stopping momentarily to take a closer look. No soft flesh, no pulsing veins of blood, only painted brass. One piece of evidence to suggest that this is not a dream. Alucard needs that reassurance while he wanders dazed and disoriented, like walking through a thick mist.

The thin nightgown clings to his uncomfortably sweat drenched back, chest, and limbs. He’s taken to wearing the longer kinds, ones that reach down to his ankles. Hardly suitable for humid summer nights but he finds it better this way. Alucard continues on his aimless nighttime trek until he stops at a certain closed door. It’s not the first; there are many rooms within the castle which he finds no use for so they remain locked away from prying eyes. This one, however, is special to him. 

After his father’s death, Alucard thought revisiting his old childhood bedroom would be too painful. A single glance would conjure up memories best left untampered with. Since then he’s looked inside and even walked among its contents, frozen in time. He’s turned these brief visits into sporadic personal rituals, ways of grounding himself—or punishing, it depends on which feels more appropriate. He never touches or changes anything, not the singed carpet, not the crumbled up bed sheets stained with blood, and certainly not the ring.

Alucard raises a hand to push open the door before pulling back. Not tonight, he tells himself. He carries onward, quickening his pace past another closed door that will stay bolted tight until either his bones disintegrate into dust or the castle does, whichever happens first. 

Moonlight streams in through the tall kitchen windows, lighting the room in a nightly blue hue. Not strong enough to reach the ever-present shadows that hide in darker corners. That’s where Alucard left the dolls on their shelf, in plain fucking sight as Trevor said. It rings truer now that Alucard stands before them, staring down at the culmination of his little “hobby” long and hard.

Why did he make them with such love and care? With so much attention to their unique, individual finite details? It would have been easier to find two potatoes, a few buttons, some burlap, and be done with them. If there’s shame in the way he looks at the dolls now, then what must have been the purpose of starting this project?

Alucard knows that the real Trevor and Sypha are safe in their bed. He felt their presence during his walk; skin upon skin, hands resting along the curves of each other’s bodies. Neither one sleeps peacefully, discontented by earlier events. Because of him. He knows this for certain. 

Alucard picks up the Trevor doll first, running a thumb over the plush stomach before sharpening his nail. It tears into the fabric, spilling out the toy’s soft insides. Tufts of white wool float gently float down like snowflakes as they clutter the black and white floor, soon joined by a head torn from its body in an emotional fit. Once he’s finished with Trevor, he does the same to Sypha, ripping her into pieces. Everything, the dolls, their destruction and the manner in which they are torn up, it all seems so childish. When Alucard is faced with the mess he created, he’s filled with a confusing sense of regret over his impulsive actions and the frustration that he should have destroyed those dolls a long time ago.

Exhausted, head pounding, and chest aching, he joins what used to be Trevor and Sypha on the floor. Sitting uncomfortably, worsening his ruined posture, staring into nothing. “This is all so stupid.”

–

The large platform sways momentarily, dangling in midair before it begins to lower Sypha down the derelict tower that leads far beneath the Belmont manor. This is the first time she’s seen Trevor’s family hold in daylight; even in ruins, everything is brighter. Remnants of a once grand legacy that’s been holding on by its fingernails through sheer stubbornness and determination thanks to its last surviving son. She can now see the portrait of his founding ancestor without the obstruction of darkness.

Leon Belmont, fabled vampire killer and the first to hunt down Dracula—in appearance, there are no similarities between him and Trevor. Blond curly hair like a Renaissance cherub, noble demeanour, a true knight of old. That’s what the painting tells Sypha. She knows even less about Leon than Trevor does. Perhaps she’ll discover something in their family archives, something more scandalous than a spellbook involving vampire cocks and other unmentionables both human and inhuman. Though it’s certainly not her original intention; Sypha didn’t have any set goal or purpose in mind when she decided to seek out the Belmont archives. 

Only that it feels better than being inside the castle. Anywhere feels better than that incubator of sadness, death, and loneliness. Trevor may have questioned it but it’s no wonder Alucard put all of his effort into one family home instead of his own.

Upon arriving at the bottommost level, Sypha steps through the heavy door and nearly repeats her trick of igniting the entire hold in fire light. Until she notices that every torch has been replaced by the same bulbs of glass found beneath Gresit’s catacombs. There has to be a switch somewhere; always some sort of mechanism or device when it comes to the Tepes family and their inventions. She eventually finds a lever and pulls it down. A gentle humming sound fills the chamber and after a couple flickers, the bulbs illuminate bookshelves, cabinets, and other menagerie all kept in perfect condition.

“Incredible…” Sypha thought she was used to the archives. Questions dance in her mind as she descends the staircase. Is the electricity that Alucard installed the same as what she can conduct with her magic? She’ll have to ask him. 

Sypha isn’t looking for anything in particular. Simply being present around books interspersed between trinkets of no doubt dubious origins is enough for her. Meandering down each aisle, taking in the various titles containing any variation of “vampire”, “demon”, “mysticism”, and “grimoire”. They merge together until one happens to stand out: The Dream World: Mind Spells, Astral Projection, & Psychological Magick. It almost makes Sypha guffaw. Trevor still insists that the Belmonts were not magicians and never dealt in the more unsavoury aspects of the art, yet the contrary keeps rising to the surface. Sypha knows magic better than anybody and there’s plenty of it running through Trevor’s veins. If he ever picks up a spell and tries reading it, then he might realize.

Sypha holds the weighty tome, carefully skimming over each worn out page lest they crumble under her fingertips. An entire account of how someone could slip their own consciousness into another’s as if stepping into a friend’s home and rearranging its contents. All of which made possible through the simple act of sleeping.

I will never fucking understand what goes on inside his head.

Don’t you want to, though?

Sypha shuts the book without a second thought, feeling shock and a small bit of shame. She deals in elemental magic, manipulating the earth’s natural creations—never human bodies. It’s too dangerous and there are too many risks; something, or someone, could break. Shatter beyond reparation. Some minds are more delicate than others. 

But if she did the necessary research, as all good scholars of magic should, she won’t have to jump to such dire conclusions. Her predetermined fears might be dispelled; there might be hope. So, Sypha does the one thing that will always bring her comfort—she reads.

–

YOU SEE YOURSELF AS THEY SEE YOU

The water is always coldest in the morning. Before Alucard fills his two buckets with it, he dips a couple fingertips into the running stream, creating a slight shock that helps keep him alert. At the moment, the castle is empty and for good reason. Sypha is in the Belmont Hold; she always seemed more at home down there. The last time Alucard saw Trevor, he was following her outside and presumably to the archives as well. Still inseparable, those two. Meanwhile he’s here in the woods, away from castles and manors and underground chambers that have held on for generations. This place keeps him both sheltered and vulnerable.

This is a menial task, one of many that fill the days. Yet like all the others, it slipped Alucard’s mind until it reared its head and practically dragged him out of bed. It wasn’t always this way; not so long ago, the task of completing daily chores went differently. Collecting water, gathering ingredients for future meals, he treated them all as though they were part of a religion, a cycle that never stopped turning. Alucard’s mind once thanked him for it. Small distractions were blessings in the guise of simple tasks to keep himself afloat.

Alucard has tried to uphold this new religion. Though his attempts may not be so obvious to others. Occasionally, he’ll see the Belmont tower in the corner of his eye, no longer the crumbling pile of stones stacked atop of each other it used to be. He’ll feel the urge to pick up where he left off with its reconstruction. His palms are getting a bit soft, maybe it’s time to give them a few blisters and splinters again. 

Then there’s the one constant thing keeping Alucard from dusting off his tools, the immediate feeling that bars him from other forms of distraction: guilt. The same way he still “lives” within the castle despite its torment, he needs the reminders of what happened and everything he did. Distraction leads to remorse, then comes self-punishment, and finally discipline. This is Alucard’s new cycle, routine, and religion.

This recent excursion may seem like a step forward, but he’s certain it will be followed by many, many steps back.

He doesn’t return with any sense of urgency once the buckets are full. Instead, something in the water catches Alucard’s attention: a grey stone with a near perfect egg shape. He reaches down and pulls it out, wiping the mud and sand off its rough surface.

“Papa, it’s just a dirty old rock. What’s so special about it?”

“Watch closely, my little bat…” Using a single claw sharper than any hunter’s blade, the vampire cuts a perfect line along the stone. It cracks open, revealing colours that only exist in the younger vampire’s imagination. His gasps of wonder bring a smile to his father’s face.

“Do you know what we call a natural phenomenon like this one, little bat?”

“Hm. A geode,” Alucard mumbles to himself. Rocks that look unappealing on the outside but once they’ve been smashed open, they transform into treasure chests of jewels and crystals. He remembers now; Dracula used to bring him to the rivers and mountains surrounding the castle so that he could show his son the smallest of nature’s gifts. Without much deeper thought, Alucard drops the geode into his pocket before picking up the two heavy buckets. Sypha might enjoy such a trinket; perhaps it will bring her some much needed distraction. A paltry way of apologizing for the day before.

Alucard prepares for the trek back to the castle, but not before getting a good long look over his shoulder, then again once he’s started walking.

–

Trevor stares into the fountain, watching as momentary gusts of wind move dead leaves amongst twigs, animal droppings, and other debris littering the cracked stone. Otherwise empty and dried up just like the rest of what used to be the Belmont courtyard. Funny, it’s always the smaller, frivolous things about a broken home that are left to the very end when more important things demand attention and repair. That’s what Alucard did and only now does Trevor truly see the extent of his efforts not just to the Hold but the entire manor itself. Give it a few more weeks of hard honest labour and the building could almost be liveable again.

Why? It’s a question he’s been asking himself since their less than joyous reunion. Trevor remembers what Alucard said on their first night down in the Hold, hearing every word while he himself fawned over a piece of metal and chain. He must have thought the Belmont couldn’t hear. “Museum”, “dedicated”, and “extermination” coupled with other unsavoury terms as the dhampir looked over a casket of fanged skulls—one of which was smaller than the others. Much smaller. 

Then why do so much for a family that hunted his kind for generations? Like so much else concerning Alucard, the answer may always elude Trevor. Yet the only reaction stronger than his confusion is his own form of guilt. Trevor would say there hasn’t come a chance to show his full appreciation for Alucard’s work, but it’s just another lie and excuse.

He’s tired. Tired of staking his life on the constant movement from one road to the next, tired of putting walls between himself and others when there shouldn’t be any. During that brief, shallow time when he and Sypha settled down, Trevor felt a subtle sense of peace which had been lost to him for years—it scared him. But now that the manor is no longer a forgotten ruin, Trevor looks upon the structure not with sadness or pain, but hope. Life could return to its many rooms and corridors.

If only Alucard hadn’t halted his reconstruction progress. Still, the manor sits there waiting for the necessary work to be picked up again. He could talk to Alucard, offer a helping hand, rough up his palms a little. It doesn’t have to be a one man endeavour. 

Trevor forgoes the thought before it has an opportunity to solidify itself. All of it might be fruitless; there’s no point in having such a conversation if it only ends with more arguing, more yelling, and more of them storming off in opposite directions. More of yesterday’s events.

His flimsy attention span refocuses at the sound of Sypha calling out his name. He turns around and is greeted with an unsteady pile of books where her face should be. “Bit of light reading, eh?”

Sypha peeks out from behind the stack. “If you had come down with me, I wouldn’t be lugging all of these back up,” she says with a strained grunt.

“What’s the urgency?”

“I wanted you to see these.” She places the books down by their feet and begins handing them one by one into Trevor’s hands. He takes them, barely getting anything more than a few seconds to read their titles. What he manages to see doesn’t cultivate much optimism. Dreamology makes him believe that Sypha is simply having nightmares while Thought Manipulation Through Magic fills him with a creeping sense of dread. Those are only two amongst a dozen more.

“… What?” She asks, stopping once she notices Trevor’s usual silent cynicism. He holds up Cognitive Astral Projection.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on making me your actual braindead manservant.”

She snatches the book away. “This is serious!”

“Hm. These say otherwise. Or are you getting bored of skewering beasties with ice pikes before scorching their arses off and want to try something a bit more subtle.”

“Just listen to me.” Sypha takes a breath to settle herself. “Remember what you said about not understanding what goes on inside Alucard’s head?”

“Vaguely.” But Trevor does remember, clearer than his most sober thoughts. And he already realizes Sypha’s plan before she can spell it out for him. His eyes turn dire while the palms of his hands suddenly feel cold. “Sypha…”

“No, listen, I have looked through all of these and look there are spells one can cast to, to, to project yourself into another’s mind.” She speaks faster than her thoughts. Trevor can’t even get his own opinion out while she excitedly stammers on.

“Sypha.”

“A-and it happens when both participants are asleep, you see, which means we can access Alucard’s mind through his dreams while we are both conscious yet also unconscious at the same time—”

“Sypha!”

“What?” She exclaims. “This is our chance to help him. If he cannot tell us outright then we have to see for ourselves. Otherwise we’ll never truly understand what happened. He can heal and we can all finally move on from this.”

“Maybe. Or maybe something goes wrong and none of us ever wakes up again. Maybe we end up putting another crack in that brain of his whether we meant to or not. Maybe we break him completely.”

“Nothing will go wrong as long as we follow the directions.”

“Have you ever cast a spell like this before?”

“No, but the very scholars who wrote these books were once beginners starting out for the first time in their lives.”

“Yes, and then they practiced and studied for decades before sitting down to write the entire fucking codex on mind manipulation.” While Trevor waves one of the books in her face, Sypha matches the rising volume in his voice. 

“You are just afraid.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Of course I am! But you can’t abandon him like this just because you don’t want to attempt the only option we have. Do not go back to the man you once were, Trevor.”

Teeth grind together, hard enough to crack and shatter. He stares Sypha down with fury in his eyes; not for her, never for her, only for what she said. “I don’t want to do this because I am so fucking sick of magic. Sick of enchantments, incantations, and all that other occult bullshit. All it ever does is hurt others and make the world darker than it already is.”

Sypha holds her ground, expression placid and immoveable. “Is that what you think of my magic?”

A simple question that breaks Trevor’s hardened demeanour. He knows his answer— her magic is terrifying in beautiful ways and she might be the only morally decent practitioner in the world—but he doesn’t say it like that. “You… Sypha, you know I didn’t mean it like that, I just…” He tries placing a hand on her shoulder before it’s shrugged off. Calmly but with the right amount of force, she pushes a book against his chest. Trevor manages to guess two words from her intense gaze: read it.

Sypha steps back, about to take her leave, before giving him a valuable piece of information that’s long taken root in his mind. All he needs to do is accept it. “The Belmonts were capable of magic. As are you.”

Trevor opens his mouth when she’s too far away to hear or acknowledge.

–

When Alucard returns to the castle, he’s faced with a choice: slink back into bed and wallow in a false sense of security or take a bath before Sypha starts confusing him for Trevor. The first sounds more tempting but he’s been mobile all morning, it would be a shame to erase that progress. He could have an alright day. There haven’t been any great or even good days, only the alright ones. The slow and dull kind, which Alucard takes happily. Anything would be better than yesterday. 

With no windows to the outside world, the castle’s main powder room is darker than the others. It’s only source of light comes from sweet smelling candles scattered throughout, kept firmly in their places by years of hardened wax like pearl-coloured tears. The walls are dyed in that same sort of red that reminds Alucard of red wine or freshly spilled blood. Drenched in soft candlelight, the room is more a boudoir than a bathhouse (in some parts of the world there’s little difference between the two).

He turns a few heavy knobs at the head of the large brass tub and once the pipes clear their throats, buried deep behind walls and underneath the floorboards, clear steaming water begins to spurt out. Alucard checks the temperature; it burns to the touch which he prefers. He removes his boots yet hesitates with the rest. A single passing glance at himself in the ornate vanity mirror, one glimpse at all the pieces of bare skin despite being fully clothed, and his reluctance seems rational. Even alone, he doesn’t want to see the rest of him. 

Alucard sits before the vanity, listening while the tub fills itself to the brim. His eyes glaze over each cosmetic alongside his geode. He settles on a small bottle of herbal oil made from lavender and lemon balm leaves which he gently applies to his wrists. Smells divine, hurts like absolute hell. Liquid seeps into the raw, tender skin and he lets out a hiss. The necessary pain subsides; Alucard’s breaths turn deep and slow. He hates looking up into the mirror only to be faced with his overly familiar weary eyes surrounded by dark circles. It’s unavoidable. 

Something on the table begins to shake. For a moment, Alucard thinks it’s because of his own trembling hand gripping the mahogany wood until he notices the river stone. It moves from side to side, teetering then tottering, like a child’s spinning top about to fall. He stares not in fear but with caution as the stone cracks, louder than anything that size should sound. An egg ready to hatch.

Alucard expects to be greeted by a newborn chick when the rock turned egg finally cracks right open. What clumsily rolls out instead is still trapped within its embryonic sack, not strong enough to break through. He assists by making a tear with his nail as a viscous substance pours out along with its inhabitant. There’s hair, two arms, two legs, and a pair of wings weighed down by the fluid. Unsure and a little nervous, he helps clean whatever just emerged, allowing its delicate, transparent wings to fully unfold. 

The creature stumbles like a freshly birthed calf getting used to its own legs before using Alucard’s fingers for support. At last, he sees the long caramel hair that envelopes its entire body, not much larger than his outstretched hand. He sees the pointed ears and the earthy green tinge that covers the very ends of each limb. 

Despite what humans of sound mind and reasonable logic may proclaim, vampires and night creatures exist in this world. They may very well rule it. Why shouldn’t the smaller, daintier beings of fantasy exist as well?

Softly and with the utmost care, Alucard cups the fairy in both hands and lifts her off the vanity. “Now where did you come from?” A silly question, admittedly. 

Her eyes, which seem too big for her tiny face to hold, finally open. She stares up at Alucard, blinking rapidly, before her lips curl back, revealing a smile of pristine yet razor teeth. Wings flutter like a hummingbird’s and following a few delighted inhuman chirps, she’s encircling Alucard, unable to decide where she should land first. A second on his shoulder, then another atop his head. Eventually, she discovers the incomparable joy of hiding herself within the smooth locks of his hair.

“Well, aren’t we an excitable little one.” Alucard manages to pluck her free but the fairy isn’t finished with her thorough examination of her chosen imprint. She comes across his marred wrists and lets out a softened chirp of concern. He mutters the same excuse he gave to Trevor and Sypha: it’s nothing. The fairy can’t hear, or she just doesn’t listen. Determined to use every ounce of her miniscule strength, she begins pecking at the wrist, planting kiss after kiss upon his scarred flesh.

“Oh no, please don’t trouble yourself with that.” There are accounts of fairies who carry certain healing abilities, but this one is still a babe. The only world she knows is Alucard. Better she learns how to crawl before she walks. But the fairy couldn’t care less about any of that. This golden-haired giant could end up being the only world she ever knows or will ever know, and she would be overjoyed. Flying upwards, she holds his face in both arms and nuzzles against his cheek. 

It’s a surprising development, but Dracula’s castle will continue to play homestead to all things strange and odd. This fairy may just be oddly wonderful.

–

Trevor’s body has always despised him for many reasons, rebelling against itself. He can’t remember what he looked like without his battle scars (if there was ever a time when he didn’t have them), some bones have been broken then rearranged so often they float around amongst muscle and blood utterly ruined. He once considered keeping a log of every time he stumbled into a back alley to cleanse his battered insides through vomiting. One column labeled “drinking”, the other “fighting”. Some nights would require both to be marked up.

Those are understandable reasons. Trevor never thought reading would elicit the same visceral reactions. His head pounds away, the backs of his eyes sting like mad, and there’s an unseen weight pressing down on his chest. It’s been hours since he made Dracula’s disarrayed library his own, surrounding himself with books and half opened scrolls like some hermit monk or scholar holed up in his study. There must be a curse on this room; whoever enters to read its contents and is not the castle’s lord or of undead blood shall be stricken down with nausea, tiredness, and frustration.

Trevor ignores how his mind pulses and aches with every written word. Sypha’s talk of dreams and mind spells is the cause of all this. He’s managed to retain a fair amount of knowledge, though whether or not any of it will be helpful he cannot say for certain. There’s one story concerning an unnamed alchemist of the 10th century who performed dream spells on himself; perhaps he still had some higher morals to not use other bodies for his tests. With these incantations, his mind created absolute paradises where he would live for decades while only a few hours passed in the realm of reality. 

The effects on his physical body were apparent; the first time he cast the spell, he aged thirty years in the span of five hours. During his second sleep, he died in the dream world a peaceful old man with no regrets or unfinished business. When whatever colleagues he had left found him, he was a half-rotting corpse in his bed.

Accounts like these—factual or mere ghost stories—don’t encourage much optimism. Which is why Trevor keeps reading, keeps searching in case it’s not enough. His nose buried so deeply in knowledge previously unknown to him. He doesn’t notice that Sypha has found him, not until she lays a hand on his shoulder, startling them both. Trevor drops his most recent find while she lets out an exclaimed gasp and holds her chest.

“Christ…” He says breathlessly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up like that. This is the very last place I expected to find you.”

“I’m full of surprises.” As Trevor gathers up his resources, Sypha observes their contents; the very same she herself had been researching all morning long. Dream lore and mental magic, everything he denounced not too long ago.

Trevor makes a note of her silence. “I looked through that first book you gave me. Started thinking… which is never a good sign with me, and wanted to do some reading myself.”

Full of surprises, indeed. “Trevor, I’m shocked.”

“Hope it’s the pleasant sort. But you should know that I did all of this for you… and for him. Mostly for you.”

Sypha is used to Trevor’s deflections. She thought by now he would readily accept his growing ability to care deeply for others when his outward appearance suggests otherwise. There is always much to rebuild. “These are his books… does that not disturb you?”

“Hm, not really.” Sypha almost chides his nonchalant response, thinking back to how violently he reacted to the prospect of Alucard being his father before their silly duel was put to rest. “Dracula may have been a monster but he was a genius. There’s not much difference between what’s down there and what’s up here. Suppose one has to know their enemy.”

Genius. Trevor Belmont of the House of Belmont is either mad or drunk. Sypha assumes that if his family were alive, he would have been flogged for speaking their own form of blasphemy. The same might have happened anyway had they known about his partnership with the son of their centuries old adversary.

“So… you’ve thought about it?”

Trevor takes a breath, eyes downcast. “You wanted me to read, so I did. To be honest, a lot of this is just fear mongering, which is why I kept at it. There are things worth learning and knowing about. I’m not exactly jumping with enthusiasm over your proposal, but you could say I’m more open to it than I was. We just need to find the right spell.”

“I think I have. It was in one of the books from your family’s library.”

“What do we do?”

“There are a lot of steps involved, but the most important element is that we all have to be asleep. In order for our collective consciousness to enter another’s mind, that person has to be in an even deeper sleep. All but dead to the world.”

Trevor suddenly turns grim and angry. “I’m not fucking drugging Alucard.” 

Sypha reacts in an offended manner. “Of course we won’t! Why on earth would you ever assume that?!”

“Sorry… some of the things I read about this didn’t give me the best mindset. Does it involve any other unsavory acts like blood sacrifices or ritualistic masochism?”

“No, nothing like that. We just need to prick our temples hard enough to draw blood and burn something that belongs to each of us.”

“What’s the purpose of the fire?”

“As long as the items keep burning, we remain inside the dream world. When it runs out, that’s when we wake up.”

“And the blood?”

“Supposedly to help open up our minds. The chapter explains everything in detail. But we need Alucard’s consent first.”

Trevor bites at his thumbnail, something he hasn’t done since the age of thirteen. “It won’t be easy convincing him.”

“If we fail, we fail. It’s his choice.” Though there’s a part within Sypha, deeper and more persistent than she’s willing to admit, that wants their plan to succeed. Not for her sake and not for her ego.

“Right. Let’s go find him.”

They stand up to leave but only walk so far down the corridor before they turn round a corner and nearly crash into Alucard.

“Fuck’s sake, enough with all the sneaking around.” Trevor grumbles once his heartbeat settles.

“I heard voices coming from the library and wondered if it was you two.”

“Course it was us, who else could it have b—” He squints, peering closer at Alucard. “Is something on your shoulder?” It could be an effect of reading too much, but Trevor knows he hasn’t gone insane—yet. He sees the wings, the miniscule head and the even smaller face staring back at him with suspicion.

“Oh, this. Well, I… I found her in the river and—”

“She’s precious!” Sypha interrupts, bending down to get a clearer look at Alucard’s new companion the same way a child looks in fascination at a brand new doll. “I know about these creatures… she’s a pixie, correct?”

Trevor and Sypha hear a series of quick jingles and chirps but Alucard hears something entirely different. “She prefers to be called a fairy.”

“You can understand that thing?”

More jingles, more chirps followed by a distinct growl from the fairy. “She also doesn’t like being called a thing by giant hairy oafs who smell terrible.”

Trevor would almost feel insulted if he wasn’t already accustomed to far harsher and disgusting terms throughout his adult life. So Alucard’s new friend doesn’t like him. Fine, he never liked fairies to begin with. Too many bedtime stories warning him about those who steal babies and gather in hordes to eat the flesh clean off a human’s body.

“Sypha and I need to discuss something with you.”

Alucard’s muscles seize up; he feels the fairy grow more restless, impatient with these two strangers barging into her life and what they might do to her keeper. He calms her with a light pat on her head. Don’t let what happened the day before happen again. Listen to them. Hear what they have to say then react.

“Go on.”

Trevor glances at Sypha and lets her speak for both of them. “We were thinking about what you said the other day, and you’re right. We can’t fix you. It was ignorant of us to believe we could especially after being gone for so long. But we still want to help in whatever ways possible. Talking about causes you too much pain, we understand that. So maybe if you showed us…”

She pauses, examining Alucard’s demeanour. Still face and even stiller breath. Sypha carries on with extreme care. “We read about a type of magic that focuses on dreams and projecting oneself into another’s mind. If you would allow us, Trevor and I could relive your memories and feel whatever it is you’re feeling through dreaming.”

“What she’s trying to say is—FUCK!” Trevor lets loose an entire chorus of expletives as the fairy swarms about trying to lay another bite somewhere she can reach. In between her efforts, she moves to Sypha and pulls her hair, chirping frantically. They flail their arms, ducking and avoiding the little menace as best they can while Alucard looks on. He doesn’t take any pleasure in watching this chaos, yet is in no rush to stop it. Eventually, the fairy tires of her own antics and hides behind his neck, hissing in their direction.

“If it does that again, I’m pickling it inside a jar full of ale.” Trevor threatens, wiping away the small amount of blood drawn from her many bites.

“How much did you read about dream magic?”

Sypha smooths out her curls and straightens her robe. “A lot. We found books from both the Belmont library and your father’s.”

“Were you aware that you can easily die while in someone else’s consciousness?”

“… Yes, we did read about it.”

Alucard nods, clear that he’s holding something back. He hides it behind an uncomfortable stance and glare. “And when you do, your soul wanders aimlessly between worlds. No heaven, no hell, not even limbo. The only afterlife is emptiness. You’re waiting for peace or punishment or anything you actually can feel, but it never comes. Never to be reunited with your loved ones no matter where they are.”

The final statement instills slight panic within Trevor and Sypha. They know the truth as it’s been sitting with them, a festering wound that demands attention. Neither of them have told Alucard but the way he speaks leads them to believe he somehow knows. The one parent seems obvious, necessary even, but both? Another revelation to weigh heavily upon him. The two brace themselves for his venom and the further erosion of his trust for them. They’ve accepted it; maybe they both deserve his vitriol.

“I will consider it.” Alucard walks away with the fairy still glaring daggers into Trevor and Sypha, plotting their inevitable demise.

It’s not what they were expecting, far from his first reaction to their outstretched hands offering support and help (or rather forcing). Though it does not surprise them. I will consider it, I will think about it, all of it means the same outcome. A gentle, polite method of saying no without pushing someone away.

They have failed, but Sypha was truthful. It is his choice.

–

Night arrives quicker at Dracula’s castle. It rushes across the sky and fills each hallway with rushed excitement. The earlier conversation feels like nothing more than a hazy memory, one that warns him of bad tidings whenever it rears itself, now pushed back in favour of things Alucard wants to think about willingly. He sits on his bed holding a white and gold porcelain box while the fairy balances herself on his thighs waiting patiently. He had to do a bit of searching in order to find the illusive box. There was an image tucked away in his distant memories; something his mother always carried with her during the later hours of the day. He thought it was only his mind conjuring up a false recollection but he found it by chance.

Dracula was an inventor as much as he was a conqueror, a recluse, and a legend to keep hell-fearing morals in their place. Yet in the eyes of a child and mother, his grander discoveries paled in comparison to his smaller, more intimate ones. They appreciated and gazed in wonder at the various devices that kept the castle alive like a ticking clock tower but individual items like a music box carry far more heart than gears or electric lights. With a few turns of a small winding key on the side, a soft metallic melody begins to play. The fairy’s ears perk up as do her wings, twitching rhythmically as she stares in elation.

“You enjoy music, don’t you?” He chuckles. She has another surprise in store for Alucard when her mouth opens and lyrics tumble out in perfect tune with the music box. Her high-pitched voice sounds sweeter than honey in the sunlight, but Alucard is most endeared by her skills as a little musician. Less than a minute of listening to a song she’s never heard, and already the words come more naturally to her than to a seasoned court bard.

He closes the box thus silencing its music and the fairy returns to her happy chirps. It is in these moments when he wishes he could match her cheerful presence. All he can do is return her displays of affection with a tired smile, reopen the box, and fashion a bed just for her. She squeaks in delight, immediately flying in to make herself comfortable before curling up, ready to enter a peaceful sleep after an exciting first day alive.

Alucard snuffs out the room candles and settles himself under the covers. While he dreads tonight’s sleep like all the ones that came before and will come after, he feels somewhat pleased that today has joined his list of “alright” days.

Eyes close and he hears the screams. He doesn’t recognize them as screams but instead as distraught squeals similar to that of an animal caught beneath a predator’s claws. Alucard sits upright and turns to the fairy who thrashes about in her makeshift bed, eyes shut tight as sobs wrack her body. The box clatters against the table with every movement.

“What’s wrong? Here, let me help…” He goes to cup her in his hands but her fearful eyes open, tinged red with tears. She backs away even further when Alucard tries again.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to be afraid.” His fingertips brush along her head; he feels how she trembles at the mere sight of him. She’s terrified of a presence she once loved unconditionally. 

It takes a moment, but the fairy holds Alucard’s fingers and hugs them against her chest. There remains a hesitance in every action. It’s clear that members of her kind display certain talents that moral minds could never hope to achieve. They’re naturally attuned to the art of music, the mythic science of healing, and the magic of dreams. What did she see within Alucard’s?

He keeps the question to himself out of respect for her sanity; his own as well. Placing the fairy back into the box, she’s not as quick to sleep as she was before and neither is he. She’s too occupied with watching him close, still shaking, while Sypha and Trevor’s proposition crawls its way back into Alucard’s thoughts. It will keep him awake for the rest of the night.

He did say he would consider it.

[skeletorific]

DUUUUUUUDE I'd love to see your classpects for the boys, n compare them to my own personal hc!! I love godtier stuff, and imagining them in bright silly outfits is just👌

This was so fucking PEACEFUL to work on it was a delight to do so let’s do this. I’m doing extended zodiac signs too because i CAN. Also, putting this under a cut cause it got LONG

CLASSPECTING THE SKELEBROS

UT!Sans: True sign is Scormino, Sign of the Fatalist

So, a point by point breakdown

-Cerulean: something that immediately woke me up to Sans as a Cerulean was the idea of a “mask for every occasion”. Sans is not one thing to all people. He flips between personas, adjusting it a little for each encounter. This isn’t because he’s manipulative per se, but because he genuinely thinks it’ll just make things easier for everyone

-Prospit: Prospit repression yo. Not to mention he’s more go with the flow than he is “fuck the system”.

-Doom: Rather than explain this connection, I’m just gonna paste the description for Doombound, since its practically a textbook description of Sans himself

Those bound to the aspect of Doom are fate’s chosen sufferers. It may not sound like an overly pleasant aspect to be aligned with, but it does come along with great wisdom and empathy. The Doom-bound understand that misery loves company, and they are ready and willing to provide said company. The Doom-bound won’t fix you; they aren’t healers. They are commiserators, aware that sometimes the only thing you can do for a person is let them know that they are not alone in their suffering. They are not the advice friend-they’re the friend you go to when you need to vent about a rough day at work. They are not necessarily noble martyrs, either-the Doom-bound can become quite irate about their lot. At their best they are wise, kind, and non-judgemental. At their worst, bitter, resentful, and fatalistic.

This is a summary of Genocide route Sans so succinct it could’ve been written about him intentionally. I did consider time for him, but ultimately Time is an aspect defined by a struggle. Sans does not struggle against the oncoming fate. He buys it a drink and hopes it leaves as little damage as possible in its wake.

As far as class goes, I classpect him as a Mage of Doom. One who understands or understands through their aspect, and no one understands the coming storm quite like Sans does. Mages are also traditionally understood as suffering as a result of their knowledge of their aspect whether too much or too little. In a sense, Sans’ relationship with the Anomaly encompasses both.

UT!Papyrus: True sign is Aquius, sign of the Whimsical

-Violet: Violet signs are noted for their eccentricity and individuality. I have a harder time coming up with two adjectives more fitting than that for Papyrus. Additionally, they have a reputation for craving social interaction to the point of being clingy, which is also extremely fitting

-Prospit. Not much to add to this one beyond going with the flow and an aversion to going off the beaten path.

-Breath:The aspect of freedom, confidence, imagination, and fun. Something notable about Breath players is that they’re at their best when they let loose and be themselves. Papyrus can’t really be who he wants to be when he’s trying to play a role, of guard captain or human hunter. When he’s being authentic Papyrus though, he’s capable of inspiring hearts and minds.

I classpect Papyrus as a Sylph of Breath. Papyrus does both literal and metaphorical healing. If you get knocked out during your fight with him, he carries you back to his shed and nurses you back to health. Additionally, Papyrus reminds people that they are free to chase their dreams and their own potential. He tries to make the Player recall their better intentions. He pumps up Alphys, restoring her confidence that she’s lost over the years. He heals the relationship between the player and Undyne in order to liberate Undyne to be her more authentic self: a woman who just wants to help her people. Additionally, he is a key facet in liberating the Underground, restoring the sky to people who have been denied it for so long. 

UF!Sans: True sign is Tauriborn, sign of the Covetous

-Bronze: Bronze just has that earthy quality I eat with a SPOON for Red. Additionally, they navigate that space between a genuine desire for stability and a tendency to stubbornly commit even when it hurts you. Additionally, there’s a hedonism associated with Bronze signs that feels very fitting.

-Derse: restless skepticism, a tendency to mistrust, and rebellion in the blood? Sounds like a skeleton who’s been living rent free in my head for long enough.

-Rage: There’s of course a very literal level to this. Red’s one of the angrier of the skelebros. Additionally, though, there’s a resentment of lies and false civilities. Red hates liars, hates convenient likes. He tends to play his own cards close to the chest, but resents it in other people. Additionally, there’s a burn it all down impulse that’s very present in him that resonates with this aspect.

I classpect Red as an Heir of Rage. I tend to understand Heir as one who is surrounded by their aspect, or surrounds other with their aspect. Red surrounds himself in a field of rage, and those who are the target of his wrath are too. Additionally, though, he inherits the positive aspects of wrath, the bullshit detector and the impulse towards seeking out the truth. Additionally heirs tend not to take a very intellectual approach to their aspect, because they don’t have to. They embody it unconsciously. 

UF!Papyrus: I kind of went over this but for the sake of coherency: True sign is Saginius

-Indigos: in addition to having a rep for being the bastions of order, indigos tend to devote themselves entirely to their interest. They can be sociable, but have a tendency to not really consider other people’s emotions, leading to a lot of unintentional hurts. Edge has a cold abrasive personality at many points, but it’s rare that he intends to hurt the people closest to him. It just sort of happens to him.

-Prospit: Again, Edge doesn’t rebel. He works with the society cards he’s been dealt. His prospit associations are where he’s closest to his Tale self.

-Hope: Hope is the aspect, not just of optimism, but of order. Hope players have a very black and white approach to the world, and dedication to ideals that they see as higher than themselves. Both of these are to me very Edge qualities, even if he’s not the most sunshiney person. He has things he believes in strongly, and he doesn’t wave.

I classpect Edge as a Knight of Hope. He defends his aspect, defending his ideals and the things he chooses to dedicate himself, and defends with his aspect, using his internal compass as a bastion against doubt and misgivings. Additionally, Edge has an inherent lean towards protecting and working for others, even if at his most unhealthy point his ego can make him bossy.

US!Sans: Blue’s true sign is Arcer, sign of the Officer

-Burgundy: Rust signs tend to be characterized by an unbending determination. Its not that they’re immune to the bad things in the world, its simply that they tend to roll with the punches and try to make things work regardless. Blue is quick to trust and overly excitable, but a loyal friend and an imaginative companion. All of these are Rust characteristics.

-Prospit: Again, unwavering optimism and a loyal temperament.

-Blood: Blood is the aspect of relationships and mutual support. Blue is an extremely social creature, prone to doing his best work via inspiration. He invests strongly in the people around him, and has a hard time giving up on others. Blood can also be the aspect of sinking ships. They tend to latch on to things and people other’s might consider to be “lost causes” and stubbornly refuse to leave them behind. I tend to characterize Blue with a low level of anxiety, constantly afraid that the people around him are going to leave him behind if he’s not good enough. Peak Blood player. 

I classpect Blue as a Page of Blood. Like I said, Blue’s “Sans” tendencies come out in his interactions with others. Like most pages, he has a very shakey grasp of his aspect. He genuinely has the ability to make people feel cared for and comfortable. He even has great potential to inspire others to do better. However, he’s still in the process of learning how to command his aspect effectively, sometimes vacillating between overloading people with interaction and at other times barely confiding his emotions in even the people he should be close with. As this potential unlocks, though, there’s no ceiling to all he might achieve.

US!Papyrus: Stretch’s true sign is Gemza, sign of the Shrewd

-Gold: Gold signs command intellectual prowess, quick wit, and reserved tendencies in a way Stretch has done his entire life. Something notable about goldbloods is they have a tendency to refuse to live up to their full potential. They find their niche and carve out their mark within it while letting the rest of their life functionally fade to the background as “unimportant”. Stretch is adept and knowledgeable in his areas of interest and finds it hard to give a shit about the rest. Despite this, he still hangs on to the goldblood’s usually innate likeability, albeit without much emotional vulnerability. 

-Derse: While Stretch isn’t exactly a rebel, Derse has an association with skepticism and a desire for rationality that inherently resonates with him. One thing that also stood out to me is a tendency to develop a very self-effacing sense of humor as a cover, which is a VERY Stretch quality. He doesn’t quite have the repression for Prospit, nor will he let himself be put into boxes that don’t suit him.

-Mind: Mind players (and Stretch) are defined by a certain sense of fluidity. They don’t really feel compelled to develop a strong sense of self, preferring instead to react organically to how they think is best and most logical to the moment. Stretch is a creative and quick thinker, which combines with a very nasty FOMO and an aversion to simplicity. Absolute Mind Player Core.

His classpect is tricky, but I feel Witch of Mind is the most fitting for him. Witches are often characterized by having a more lackadaisical relationship with their aspect. They understand it intimately enough to know how to break it when it suits them. In addition to reason and choice, Mind is also the aspect of systems and rules (think Terezi’s justice core). Stretch is a quick study about systems, but doesn’t necessarily adhere himself to them. Whether its a game he’s playing, a puzzle he’s solving, or a person he’s interacting with, sometimes the best thing in the world is to dig in and study until you find the point that breaks the whole thing open.

SF!Sans: Black’s true sign is Cancen, sign of the Translucent

-Lime: Lime signs tends to be characterized by forceful and intense personalities, with intense emotions and a tendency to fixate on improvement. They can often be effective at inspiring people to follow their lead, but have difficult personalities to work with. All of this is extremely Black, with the proviso that I tend to characterize him as often needing to repress those intense emotions. He leans hard into his own anger, but often covers up his other extremes for the sake of their own safety. 

-Derse: while Black has learned to cooperate with the world around him, he’s never not going to be looking for ways to get around it. He’s often sardonic, and is usually extremely slow to trust those around him. He may put on a front of being the Queen’s man through and through, but there’s a lot of Irons in the fire that he doesn’t feel the need to make public.

-Heart: As I said, I tend to characterize Black as struggling against strong emotions that even he barely understands. He has a very distinct and strong personality, as well as intensive emotions. In moments of stress, he’s prone to intense self-reflection. Where did he go wrong, where can he improve. Additionally Heart players have an association with identity constructing, frequently diffusing their personality into a variety of splinter selves in a form of elaborate “roleplaying”, which to me clicks nicely with Black’s bossy and aggro Royal Guard posturing. 

Its because of this struggle against his own aspect that I classpect Black as a Rogue of Heart. Rogues often struggle to cope with their aspect, and may even begin to crave the opposite. Black at his core craves the rational thought and pure justice of the Mind aspect. However, the more they embrace their aspect, especially in service to others (being a passive class), the healthier they often end up being. If you’ve read my “Tyrant” fic, Black steals his and Rus’s performance of self to allow them the freedom to act and pass unnoticed by the guard. He represses his own emotions to give space to other people’s, and at his best can redistribute his own assurance with his purposes to the people around him, making him potentially an inspiring presence.

SF!Papyrus: Rus’ true sign is Capries, sign of the Bold

-Purple: purples have a tendency to dedicate themselves to causes or people they care about and work until they are either stopped or made incapable or working more, much as Rus works for his brother’s well-being. Additional points of resonance were a macabre sense of humor, a tendency to withdraw when upset, a sense of fatalism, and a tendency to dig in his heels even if its against his own best interest. Plus….Clown Rus sexy what can I say.

-Derse: like his brother, Rus is inherently skeptical of easy outs. Like many Derse dreamers, he’s a problem solver, even if it comes at great personal cost. Rus’s Derseness is also exemplified in his tendency to develop strong bonds of loyalty to other people….without ever really allowing himself to be vulnerable with those people. He has the perspective that his emotions don’t truly matter.

-Time: Honestly kind of surprised it took me this long to make one of the Lazybones a time player, but I think making Rus it was the right choice. Time players are often defined by a sense of struggle. Time players are seemingly incapable of taking things lying down. Even if they won’t fight for themselves (and Rus rarely ever will) they often have an internal moral code that makes them unable to be a bystander. Rus is lazy, he’s a fatalist, he has a hard time taking care of himself. But he’s unable to stop himself from acting, especially when it involves someone he cares about. Additionally, Rus has associations with death in his judge role, which he takes extremely seriously.

I debated making Rus another knight, but ultimately I feel Seer of Time fits him better. All the Sans derivatives are prone to a sort of restless curiosity about the world around them, and in Homestuck terms I see that as a desire to in some way sync up with their aspects. A Seer is one who invites understanding. Rus seeks to reckon with both the cycle of life and death and the wide variety of timestreams that are causing havoc in his world. Unlike the mage, he has a hard time accepting what he understands: Seers are in many cases notorious for resenting the idea of someone else controlling them. Still, he’s practically unable to stop himself from exploring further, continuing to pick and pick at the scab of his reality no matter how much it hurts.

[persephoneofhades]

the thing is i don't think ben and ryn don't work on their own, i think they have a real connection and definitely deep feelings for one another and always have (i'd even argue ryn developped romantic feelings for ben awhile before she developped those for maddie) and i think the fandom acts like they don't work or don't have chemistry because it's the "hetero" leg of the triad which makes zero sense to me

ryn being involved with ben even without maddie doesn't make her any less queer and the same can be said for maddie's involvement with robb. they're both still queer women and they're also and that's something the fandom can't wrap their heads around for some reason but they're both polyamorous. i could see maybe maddie being happy in a monogamous relationship but ryn is polyamorous so i don't understand this fantasy that's been pushed of maddie/ryn and ben completely pushed to the side

if the both of them weren't in love with him just as much as they're in love with each other i could maybe see it but the fandom needs to reckon with the fact that ben pownall is a part of this triad and even though he has acted all kinds of reckless and shitty right now (he can thank the song for that really) he is still at his core a good person. it's just funny to me how quick fandom wants to turn on him

to me the siren fandom sometimes acts when it comes to ben's addiction the same way maddie does when it comes to susan, by that i mean hostile, no understanding and no support. and god bless maddie, i love her but her views on addiction really aren't something to emulate because she doesn't even seem to understand it as the illness it is which makes it all the more understandable why she's the last person ben would reach out to for help unfortunately

Okay, since these are long, I will again attack each ask separately if I can and this will likely get long again, so I will also put it under a cut again.

These asks are starting to sound a little bitter, so while I do love discussing the show, let’s maybe keep the “the fandom needs to do this” to more of a minimum. It’s not my job to police how the fandom ships people together on this show.

Okay, so starting with Ben/Ryn. I think Ben and Ryn COULD work on their own and HAVE in certain episodes/scenes. The issue that comes up with Ben and Ryn that’s always been there and has never been there for Maddie/Ryn or Maddie/Ben is the Song and Ben’s long-term addiction to it. Ben and Maddie were in love long before either of them ended up addicted to the Song and Maddie and Ryn were able to build a relationship away from it, too. But Ben’s feelings for Ryn, while I believe the show when it tells us that his love for her was not CREATED by the Song, has certainly been influenced by it a bit. And even if we, for the sake of argument, say that the Song has not influenced his feelings at all, it’s still influenced his BEHAVIOR. Ben gets really erratic when Ryn isn’t around, really restless. His impulsivity and obsessive nature gets amplified due to the Song and so his behavior regarding Ryn is really really different than we used to see in his relationship with Maddie or what we see in Maddie’s relationship with Ryn.

Personally? Since it was unclear for a while how much of Ben’s feelings were influenced by the Song or not, their relationship has always been somewhat questionable. Ben becomes less and less predictable the longer he’s addicted to that Song to the point now that he’s lying to both the women he loves about really big things that he knows they won’t like and/or will be uncomfortable with. And that’s something I think IS a side-effect of the Song because Maddie got involved in the mission with Ryn pretty quick, he TRUSTED Maddie to be his partner in whatever he had gotten himself into. They WERE partners.

And I think Ben and Ryn have had some really cute moments, I do. I think that Ryn and Ben are also both super fucking impulsive, though, and Ryn is only just starting to learn how to think things through a little more while Ben is steadily LOSING his ability to think things through so by Season 3 their relationship to me seems super dysfunctional and not necessarily super healthy. It’s starting to feel like Ben is getting almost POSSESSIVE of Ryn and is clinging to her as the only thing keeping him going, the only thing that’s keeping him SANE (as much as he even can be right now). And that’s not ideal. Whereas Maddie and Ryn are SUPER open with each other still, we’ve seen them have several conversations about their relationship and how Robb fits into that and Maddie’s break-up with Ben, etc. The ONLY conversation we’ve seen like that with Ben was when Ryn calls him out on the injections. And even then he doesn’t open up about where he’s getting the injections or the fact that he’s re-addicted himself to her Song. He’s still lying to her, he’s still not being open and honest with her.

So while I don’t MIND Bryn as a ship, I don’t they’ve gotten to a really unhealthy stage in their relationship and it needs to fall apart before it can get better. Because while Ben is obviously dealing with a sickness none of them know about, he still needs to be held accountable for some of the things he’s done and Ryn will have every right to be upset about BOTH of the things he’s still hiding from her.

And finally, (wow still on the first ask) Bryn are NOT the only “hetero” leg of the triangle. I think you’ve entirely forgotten that Maddie and Ben are ALSO a “hetero” leg of the triangle. Obviously they’re broken up at the moment, but if we’re considering Polymarine as a closed triad, then there are TWO “hetero” legs to that triangle. I’ve loved Ben and Maddie as a couple since episode 1, they were SO GOOD in season 1, they were an incredible team that was so open and honest with each other and complemented each other’s flaws and virtues really well and had such similar values and just clearly really loved each other. Ben and Maddie were AWESOME.

Okay, moving on to the second ask.

I agree with you, all THREE people in that relationship are canonically polyamorous and Ryn and Maddie are both wlw, as well (I’d definitely headcanon Ben as mlm as well, but that’s not technically canon yet). And those things remain true no matter whether they’re in a monogamous relationship or a heterosexual relationship or not. I have in fact posted SEVERAL things to that exact effect, so you’re sort-of preaching to the choir with this one.

THAT BEING SAID. People are allowed to ship who they want to ship, that’s really none of your business. Lots of people really like Maddie/Ryn but maybe aren’t so solid on Bryn or just Ben as a character and that’s FINE. He’s certainly not my PERSONAL favorite of the triad, but I’ve liked his relationships with Maddie and Ryn in the past and he’s been really cool as a character individually in the past, too. I wouldn’t ship Polymarine if I didn’t like Ben. But ship and let ship, it’s not a terrible thing that people prefer Maddie/Ryn on their own to Polymarine and would prefer Ben not be in the picture so much. As you say yourself, even if they ship Maddie/Ryn without Ben, it doesn’t actually take away from either character being polyamorous. Polyamorous people CAN be in monogamous relationships.

As for Ryn and Maddie still being wlw even when they’re given male love interests, I think the issue here is that wlw in main character roles of a show like this are still relatively uncommon and it’s frustrating to all the wlw who watch this show to have to see Ryn and Maddie only get a couple cheek kisses while Ryn and Ben go on a romantic underwater swim and get full on-the-mouth kisses and sleep in beds together. Ryn and Maddie’s romantic scenes this season have definitely been diminished and PALE in comparison to what we see with Bryn and even with Robb/Maddie recently. I want to believe it’s because they’re just that solid and so we don’t “need” to see them be super romantic to remind us that they’re together and in love, but I can understand the frustration and the worry that the queer polyamorous representation is going to get sidelined so that Bryn can take center stage and Maddie can get shoved off with someone else. While I don’t believe it will happen and I’m choosing to stick with my theory that it’s just another obstacle for Polymarine to have to overcome in order to be stronger, there’s enough precedent in media for me to understand why people are VERY worried about this.

This third ask is mostly just bitterness, so I don’t want to spend super long on it. I’ve put down a bunch of reasons why people are less into Bryn than they have been into Raddie or even Baddie. Also, he is being super messy this season. The thing that’s difficult with just blaming the Song for all of his actions, though, is that they’ve told us that the Song doesn’t just create feelings, it simply seems to amplify them. Ben’s been impulsive and obsessive long before he met Ryn, it was just something he had a better handle on. Now, though, he doesn’t have a handle on it, but that facet of his personality has always been there. So we can’t blame the Song for all of it, we know that, while this is likely something he wouldn’t have gone through with pre-Song, the Song isn’t turning him into someone he’s not, either. Personally, I don’t feel like I can just exonerate Ben entirely by going “the Song made him do it.” I think Ben needs to take responsibility for his actions and recognize the effect that it’s had on other people in order to atone for them over time. He let a man die, that’s something he’s going to have to contend with. He disrespected the body one of Ryn’s tribemates, that’s something he’s going to have to contend with.

I feel like you’re being kind-of unfair to Maddie in this last ask. Maddie and Susan are MOTHER and DAUGHTER. Susan was supposed to take care of Maddie, not the other way around. Susan’s drug addiction likely caused Maddie to feel super abandoned and unloved as a child and it could even have brought her into dangerous situations the way it did in Season 2. And from what I remember, Susan didn’t seek help for a long time, something I can totally understand Maddie being upset about. Addiction is a disease, for certain, but if the person isn’t willing to even try to get better, I think that’s now on them. And, again, Maddie would have been a CHILD through most of this and is totally allowed to hold some bitterness about how she didn’t get a mom during her childhood the way she should have.

And the same is true of Ben. What happened to him originally with Ryn’s Song is by no means his fault, obviously, and I don’t think Maddie ever treats it like it is. But expecting her to remain in a relationship with him when she KNOWS how she’ll react to it due to her history with addiction seems super unfair. She’s choosing not to remain in a relationship where she might end up feeling abandoned and unloved again. And you know what? She ends up BREAKING that rule in Season 2 ANYWAY. She gets back into a relationship with him (and starts one with Ryn) while he’s still under the effects of the addiction and there’s no cure in sight. And then she gets addicted herself and they BOTH go get a cure when it becomes available. She stands by him as he struggles through the jealousy over Ryn’s mating season, as much as she stands by Ryn who is wary of Ben’s jealousy and how that may make him react.

What she’s doing now is acting hostilely to something that she has no idea is even RELATED to an addiction. It might be raising some red flags in her head that she’s got due to her mother’s issues with it, but as far as Maddie knows, the addiction didn’t cause him to let a man drown. If your partner that you thought you knew and believed was 100% NOT addicted to anything just suddenly let someone die when they could’ve saved them, would that NOT raise red flags for you? Or if you found out your partner who you KNOW got cured of their unwilling addiction just suddenly started exhuming graves for science experiments, particularly graves of people that are IMPORTANT TO HIS OWN GIRLFRIEND? Ben is doing some REAL shady stuff right now and while WE THE AUDIENCE know that Ben is sick and addicted to the Song, Maddie does not. That’s really important to remember. I’d go back and look at how Maddie and Ben interacted in late Season 1 and early Season 2 for how Maddie reacts to Ben when she KNOWS he’s addicted to the Song and compare that to her behavior now when she believes he’s been completely cured, the way she has. It’s not like it’s an assumption on her part, either, she had to get cured WITH HIM and she knows that she is fully cured, they saw the brain scans, so she has no reason to believe that Ben isn’t doing these things entirely of his own volition.

Ben isn’t choosing not to approach Maddie because he thinks she’s too hostile to ever want to help him through his illness/addiction. He’s choosing to lie to her and not ask her for help both because deep down he knows he’s in the wrong, and because of a combo of hurt over the break-up and what appears to be a clear attempt to give Maddie some space. It’s why he doesn’t tell RYN, either, he’s not just not approaching Maddie about this, he’s doing the exact same thing with Ryn, even though she DIDN’T break up with him over Ian’s death or get angry with him. He knows that what he’s doing would upset her, so he’s saying nothing. Maddie is not some hostile villain. She has her flaws, I’m not saying she doesn’t, but her decision to not want to be involved in a relationship with someone who has substance abuse issues due to a difficult past with a loved one who has substance abuse issues is not one of them. Expecting her to fix Ben while he’s being super dishonest with her and becoming a person she can’t even recognize anymore seems super unfair.

TL;DR I don’t think Bryn work right now any more than Baddie do and that is entirely on Ben for not being honest and open in his relationships and making BOTH “hetero” legs of the triangle become unhealthy and dysfunctional. Maddie and Ryn obviously are both able to be queer and polyamorous no matter who they’re dating or how many people they’re dating, so let people ship what they want if it’s what makes them feel good and isn’t hurting you. Ben’s actions are not all able to be blamed on the Song any more than his love for Ryn is a product of the Song, so even though he definitely is a good person at heart and can come back to that, he’s super annoying right now and I don’t blame people for being less interested in him as a character. Again, if it’s not hurting you, let people ship whatever they want. I think if you want people to be more compassionate towards Ben as a character, maybe you should think about being more compassionate towards Maddie and not call her “hostile” for being upset with her mother for not being able to truly be there for her and for abandoning her when she was young. Maybe you should not be blaming Maddie for not being a mind-reader and realizing that Ben’s still addicted to the Song instead of doing what’s best for her own mental health.

[isitreallyok]

Positivity Pressure: Does it work for your situation? (Part 1)

A song I recently listened to had some lyrics that have really stuck with me as I have gone through my days recently and I figured why not use that as the topic for today’s post. Judging by the title you all may have figured it out by now. We’re going to be talking about the effects of promoting positivity in handling crisis situations throughout this week. I know that just that alone is enough to lose quite a few readers, but stick with me. I promise you it is not what you think.

Positive thinking, eh? Anyone with any kind of mental illness knows where this is likely going.

Yeah. That’s exactly what I would think too if I was in a situation where I read that opening. So here is what we are really going to be talking about. Lets take a few minutes together to address the elephant in the room when it comes to mental health. For the vast majority of those who struggle with mental illnesses of any variety being told that their problems are all in their head and that nothing is as bad as it seems can be a very unhealthy thing to hear. There is a very real possibility that for the individual in question their problems already seem completely insurmountable even if they are easy for someone who is neurotypical, and otherwise mentally healthy, to deal with. So having this pressure to remain positive becomes yet another burden to bear that prevents people from being open about what they are feeling for fear of being misunderstood or worse.

The message doesn’t seem that bad though. Remembering to take a moment to celebrate the little things is a habit that everyone can benefit from. 

The problem, often times, is not what is being said at all. Where people like myself run into issues is when these platitudes are used in place of the actual support that we are asking for. For example, sometimes I just need someone to listen while I vent about the problems that I am having as I am going throughout my day. I feel that keeping them in is going to make me yell at someone that doesn’t deserve the aggression; however, I often feel that if I let them out with other people I can manage my stress in a slightly more healthy way. What this need dictates is that I do not need someone to help or advise me on what to do. In that moment I just need someone to listen. When people believe that reminding me of the power of positivity is something that is helpful, often times it results in me feeling as though they don’t understand exactly what I need in that moment and that furthers my own personal trust issues in opening up to these individuals moving forward.

Often times reminders of positivity are good advice. You even can see some of that in my previous posts here on this blog. Talking about things ranging from showing gratitude for the little things on Thanksgiving to celebrating my found family that supports me through the turbulent times. However the difficulty in making sure that people are receptive to this advice is in the timing.

How do I know when it is the proper time to address things like positivity reminders and challenging someone to look differently about their situation?

This sort of thing varies from person to person. The greatest thing that ever happened to me when it came to positivity reinforcement was a dear friend of mine, for the sake of anonymity lets call her Elyse, understanding that my needs are horribly varied from situation to situation and being open in communicating with me when I first reach out during a break down. This has always been something that Elyse understood about how I operated. We talked very directly early on in our friendship about how I need various things from people when I’m in a state of crisis. So now she will directly ask me something along these lines. “Do you just need someone to listen or would you like feedback?” or “Do you want me to try to help or should I just stay quiet for a while?” and in doing this I feel comfortable in disclosing what I need in that moment to be able to get to a certain level of calm before we dive into the root of what is actually going on. I know that this is not necessarily an option for everyone, but I can only speak for how I have begun to handle things with a very specific individual.

I will say that I am remarkably blessed to have someone like this in my life that is able to both understand my varied needs and also meet me where I am during trying times. I know that not everyone has someone in their lives that they are comfortable having vulnerable and open dialogue with about needs. It took me 27 years to find someone that I felt comfortable opening up to without an overwhelming fear of getting hurt. It may seem a little discouraging right now if you don’t have that but we’ll talk more about some of the other means of attempting to cope in the upcoming posts this week.

[thinkingaboutrwby]

Myers Briggs-ing RWBY: Ruby Rose ENFP

Hello world!  I’ve decided to Myers Briggs all of the RWBY cast starting - obviously - with our main character.  Ruby Rose is any ENFP (Ne - Fi - Te - Si).  It’s a misconception that she’s an INFP (Fi - Ne - Si - Te), a type that has the same cognitive functions.  This post will prove how she functions as an ENFP and point out her traits that make her not so INFPish.  So without further any further delay: let’s start!

Cognitive Functions

Extroverted Intuition (Ne): Ruby operates first and foremost with Extroverted Intuition.  Extroverted Intuition is a perceiving (information gathering) function that deals with seeing theoretical possibilities and abstract connections in a person’s surroundings.  Essentially, Ne drives a person to seek potential from external sources and is open to alternate abstract ideas (for non-Myers-Briggs fans please message me if you want me to explain it some more).  Ruby has evidently strong Ne which shows probably most importantly in her battle strategies and her role as team leader.  Ruby is easily able to jump from one strategy to the next, improvising.  This is evident, for example in Vol. 1 when she comes up with the idea to launch herself at the Nevermore.  Another prime example is in the Vol. 6 fight against Cordovin.  When Oscar’s initial plan to take down Cordovin through her dust canon doesn’t work, she takes the plan (Ne) and changes it around so it does work, attacking the canon head on.  Ne also is what allows Ruby to see the potential in others and makes her a good team leader and give her inspiring and motivational speeches.

Introverted Feeling (Fi): Ruby’s auxiliary function is a judging function (which allows a person to make decisions and conclusions based on information): Introverted Feeling which deals with a persons individual feelings and ideals.  Introverted Feelers are very aware of their own emotions and morals, and tend to be a bit individualistic.  As Fi is Ruby’s auxiliary function, it is also well-developed.  She obviously reflects and acts on her internal values.  She seeks to protect people, and to quote her in Argus Limited “not let anyone else die.”  Fi also causes Ruby to inspire others to similar individualism.  Her interactions with Penny and Oscar (telling Penny she is still real and telling Oscar he is his own person) being more evidence of Fi.  There are tons of other examples of Ruby being an Introverted Feeler but I think you’ll get it so I’m not going to bore you with the details.

Extroverted Thinking (Te): Ruby’s tertiary function is a judging function (which allows a person to make decisions and conclusions based on information): Extroverted Thinking.  Extroverted Thinking deals with making the external world more rational through procedures, planning, and logical structures.  Te is a blunt function, and can make the user a bit bossy or overbearing if used in an unhealthy way (which thankfully Ruby doesn’t really display).  As it is Ruby’s tertiary function, however, her Te is not as strongly used or developed as her first two functions.  It is clear that she does use it though more passively.  She’s a good leader, taking charge when necessary and giving logical suggestions to teammates and allies to improve battles.  Her Te actually put her at odds with Weiss when she was still trying to assert herself as team leader.  Ruby also looks for logical facts in her environment.  Another evident scene displaying Ruby’s Te was in V6 “So That’s How it Is” where everyone was reacting to Jinn’s vision.  Qrow and Yang were both relying on Fe (they both have Fe as their extroverted judging function, I’ll be typing them in a few weeks) and having harsh emotional reactions.  Ruby, instead, reacted using both Ne and Te.  She attempted to see another potential outcome in the situation through Ne (despite Oz’s lies can we still defeat Salem), and bluntly asked for facts from Ozpin.

Introverted Sensing (Si): Ruby’s inferior function is a perceiving function (for information gathering): Introverted Sensing.  Si allows the user to focus on subjective internal worlds of personal experience and compares and contrasts new experiences to past experiences and memories.  As it is her last function, Ruby does not firstly rely on Si nor has she fully developed it.  Ruby’s Si is evident, however.  A funny example of this is when in battle against Cordovin, she makes video game references to explain an idea to Oscar (Si comparing the past to the present).  Ruby’s Si also causes her to be nostalgic at times (she remembers all the good times at Beacon and uses her good memories to activate her silver eyes).  It also makes her prone to sticking to certain habits in battle - most notably her hand to hand combat weakness.  Her introverted sensing caused her to rely on Crescent Rose (a constant in battle to seek out) and not develop hand to hand combat skills.  Only after she failed her fight against Mercury and was prompted to train by Ozpin was she really ever able to break said habit.

Why is Ruby NOT an INFP?

I know I’m going to get some arguments against Ruby’s status as an ENFP as its the current consensus in fandom is that she is an INFP.  I understand how people came to this conclusions as INFP’s and ENFP’s share the same cognitive functions in a different order.  Additionally, Ruby characterizes herself as shy (especially in Volume 1), a trait commonly associated with introverts.

So I’m going to debunk this...

Its a misconception to think that only introverts are shy or socially conscious as Ruby was entering Beacon in Volume 1.  Everyone is shy; in fact extroverts could arguably be more prone to social anxieties as they primarily absorb and gain energy from their surroundings.  Ruby, specifically as an ENFP uses Ne to gain insight and ideas from her surroundings.  Ruby’s anxiety stemmed from a Ne-Fi function reaction.  Her Ne saw possibilities when going to Beacon: the good and the bad which caused her Fi to worry, giving her social anxiety.  An INFP would not have the same reaction.  An INFP would use Fi first and foremost and than Ne.  An INFP’s social anxiety would rise up from internal emotions or values being threatened which leads to worrying.  Its a small difference for sure but still present.  Additionally, ENFP’s as extroverted perceivers are more introverted than other extroverts as their judging function Fi is introverted.  Though Ruby passively gathers datas and creates theories through Ne as her first function, but acts on this data through Fi (a more visible function).  This also is likely why people confuse her as an INFP.

Another important observation of why Ruby is not an INFP is how she reacts when stressed.  When stressed, people tend to used their inferior function as a crutch, a sort of last resort in situations.  For ENFPs, the inferior function is Si.  For INFPs, the inferior function is Te.  In the few times we’ve seen Ruby stressed  or angry, she doesn’t attempt to blindly seize control as an INFP would with poorly developed Te.  She uses Te in a more healthy way as explained above by logically but generally calmly asserting control.  When stressed, Ruby withdraws and doubts herself, needing to revisit ideas and concepts ot invoke stability.  When upset about being team leader and interactions with Weiss in Volume 1, she withdraws, doubts herself, and seeks stability (Si searches for a common source of stability) through Professor Ozpin.

One last thing.  I know this isn’t necessarily hard evidence, but as an INFP, I don’t get the same connection with Ruby as I do with INFP Characters.  Reading novels and watching movies- I’ve felt an automatic connection and understanding of characters like the Little Prince or Zuko.  I automatically get the functions of their decisions.  Ruby, well, I understand her actions as she is a well written character and because I understand ENFPs, but I don’t get the same “I would do that reaction with her.”  She’s honestly less passive than I am or any other INFPs I’ve met for that matter (and trust me I know some internally wild INFPs).  Ruby in all honesty reminds me of one of my current ENFP friends who was quiet and unassuming before I got to know her but honestly one of the most ingenious, moral, and encouraging people I’ve met in my life.  ENFPs aren’t always the wild jumpy eccentrics we see in stereotypes, they are sometimes the most genuine people you’ll get to know: a lot like Ruby Rose.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU AGREE!

[thenixkat]

Animorphs notes: 20

Book 20

A Marco book

Marco strikes out with a probably Black girl at the school, who has probably been insulted about her name before

And frankly she’s got good instincts to not trust a class clown

Marco is still a fuckboy, ‘females’ really

Marco’s just shit at pickup lines

The general refusal to make a distinction b/w enslaved peoples and the yeerks controlling them.

So either the Animorphs never checked the spot where Elfangor died to see if there was anything left they could use, that the yeerks didn’t go through shit for anything they could use (I’m just going to assume there was no attempt to make a grave marker) or Toomin put the block there for David to find

Yeah Toomin put shit in places (won’t stop me from using it in a fic if I feel like it)

Have I mentioned that the whole litteral deity who does whatever he fucking feels like means that there are absolutely no stakes in this series? I don’t like that.

Yeah, weirdo stranger that ignores “I don’t want to interact with you” signals would get on the nerves

Ya know. It doesn’t feel like the Animorphs are all that hard up on getting the box if they wait that long to start to do anything about it

I still feel sorry for Ax. He is but a jock forced into the role of the one who knows shit.

Wait. Why can’t the chee just steal the box. Just ghost David, see where he puts it. Take it. And ghost out?

STill not  fan of aliens having any sort of roll in building the pyramids in particular and non-White historical structures as a whole

There’s some yeerk plans involving the President and the UN afoot

The chee piss me off for so many reasons. SO many

Again, it really doesn’t feel like the box is all that important 

Jake attempts to pass of a half bird morphed Marco as his deformed little brother

Very lucky those weren’t Controllers

Why exactly did they not decide to have Tobias the most experienced flyier there do it? Right these characters are dumb as fuck and don’t really care about retreiving the mnorphing cube

I mean its perfictly reasonable to shoot a big fuckoff bird trying to attack you

I am reminded of all the shit Cassie talks about Marco being perfictly willing to end innocent bystandars. Of course Cassie is not a trustworthy source of information.

They were not able to retraive the box through a fuck lot of incompenence and some bad luck

David is def one of those spoiled edgy kids

But the trained birds is not an out there theory given the behavior of the animorphs

Well he’s not that reckless, but Marco would be shit help in a dangerous situation as far as David knows. Dude’s tiny. 

David is also very paranoid

Again, why can’t they ask the Chee to help?

Ax: Have you considered unplugging the computer?

Listen, Ax, do these kids look like they have that much common sense? 

Oh, I see alarm systems exist again

A cobra living under teh bed in a cardboard box would be so unhealthy

The writers really hate nonavian reptiles

Ok. The writers have no idea what a cobra actually is.

According to these writers cobras have heat sensing pits like pit vipers and like to eat spiders

Ah yes, cobras do a threat display towards food they plan to eat b/c the writers know jack shit about anything that isn’t a thermal Those are hork-bajir controller not hork-bajir warriors

Slithering pretty well for a snake with 2 bullet wounds

Aww, David tried to get his pet snake out of danger

You’d think David’s dad would be taking his kid and fucking fleeing

Got damn how does Marco still have venom? Snakes don’t regen that shit instantly and he’s used a fuckload already

David’s dad and snake were captured by the yeerks. I’m going to assume that the cat is either dead or also captured

David was knocked out of a second story window, and def landed hard enough to lose consciousness so very lucky he’s still alive

David’s mom is also captured

So yeah lets recruit this kid who’s just lost everything partially due to our incompetence instead of trying to send him out of town or seeing if he has any other family he could go to.

I will give points to Ax for ya know thinking about recruiting help, this just isn’t necessarily the best time

You could go places and prove shit right now, you just don’t want to risk yer own necks

I feel like you should really be asking David before decding this shit or seeing if he has any intrests in fighting this war the way you do

Ax… proposes adding people to the group and then votes against the idea. There are multiple ways in which this doesn’t work.

SO why exactly does Marco hate David? B/c he’s edgy, a bit paranoid, and doesn’t like his humor?

Like you should ease someone into the yer parents are being tortured and enslaved thing after receiving a huge blow like you are now homeless and have to be on the run

Apparently visser rhymes with kisser

So yall really didn't ask him whether he wanted to join yer team and fight along side you. You decided that he was going to. That can’t end well. And given these writers it won’t end well in the way that it should

of course i know that later David does things like murder animals and try to kill the animorphs but like, how much is that just the writers going... oh, shit um quick how to we make it more clear that the Animorphs are better than this kid?

David whent home with Marco, sure why not

Marco catches him trying to call his parents and leads him to a payphone to use

Ah yes, the Animorphs unnecessarily causing hosts harm once again

Nice way to win him over to yer side guys

So they waste a perfictly good chance to rescue David’s dad

??? They move David… to jake’s house. Who’s brother is a controller…

Oh yer trying to get the kid captured. I see

Tobias get the fuck over yerself, Cassie can release her patients whereever the hell she wants. If you have a problem stop living in the fucking wilderness when you don’t fucking have to

David has very good points. Also you can aquire fucking both of the birds. You are not limited to one of each kind of morph.

Cassie, Marco clearly doesn’t like him and Jake’s trying to boss him around and you all forced him to join you

Like David makes very valid points. You’ve done nothing to show you’re trustworthy individuals not trying to use him to your own benifit

Isn’t there a big yeerk thing happening soon? SHouldn’t yall also be working on that too?

Ya know the controller at the meeting is probably a local, given i assume they have a portable kadrona machine and if that shit breaks or need maintenance they’d probably want to be close enough. And i know there’s no global pool network just from the stuff in like book 7?

And they’re taking the new recruit, in his first morph on his first flight on a damn recon mission. Nothing can go wrong there.

Oh look the other shoe i was waiting to fall. Ya know this would be a lot more interesting if the writers didn’t decide to make David an asshole and he still decided to leave/betray the team

So the yeerk forces on the blade ship are wearing their uniforms. But the ones on the ground? Nudists

ya know goading people into doing shit for the first time in a litteral life and death scenario ()b/c who needs things like practice() by calling them a pussy is not going to build any kind ill will

I don’t think this is a well thought out plan from the yeerk side if what’s happening is what the Animorphs think is happening

I wonder if the Animorphs will remember that roaches can fly

Ends on a too be continued

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

Rocky’s Bar and Dean’s split self

I’m still intrigued by Dabb’s choice of song-quote for the latest episode and the scene with Dean trying to collect himself in front of the mirror. To quote myself from the above link--

It’s interesting that, while the textual reading in relation to the episode is obviously a Dean vs Michael one, the whole thing is obviously a subtextual exploration of Dean’s kaleidoscopic identity, his personality full of contradiction, the layers of disguises, the subtle threat of his self shattering always looming. Of course his case is not, like for the song, a personality disorder, but simply the ways he’s had to adapt to his environment, the coping mechanisms he has been performing to survive and try to thrive (Dean does not thrive on trauma, Sam, Dean has developed an extreme adaptability to trauma since he was a tiny bean, but the fact that he’s been doing for so long doesn’t make it any less complicated and exhausting.)

It’s just you, it’s just you. It’s all you.

Textually, it’s about Michael. Subtextually, it’s about Dean’s identity and the many facets of it, and the ways he’s been struggling to handle the various facets in relation to the environment he’s lived in.

Now, let me explore an idea about the scene playing in Dean’s mind. While I do agree that this post makes a valid point about the business lady representing Michael’s way to ensure Dean’s acquiescence, I want to try another reading (not necessarily conflicting).

I was thinking (there’ll be a post) about the parallel between Dean’s door that keeps Michael locked in and the wall that kept Sam’s trauma locked in when Death delivered his soul back. When the wall was broken, Sam had to recompose the different pieces of his self. He was literally split across multiple versions of his self inside his mind.

Now, Dean. When we saw the first glimpse of him inside the bar, we speculated that the mysterious guy passed out on the counter was also Dean. Then we found out that multiple individuals were involved in Dean’s illusion scenario: Pamela, the business lady, the two vampires. But are they really separate constructions, or are they also Dean?

When Sam and Cas enter Dean’s mind, they see him, they see Pamela, they briefly see the vampires (not the business lady). By the time Dean recovers his memories of reality, he’s the only one remaining. My theory is that he has reconstituted himself, although not in a visually noticeable way (like in Sam’s case in 6x22). Every person the appears inside the bar, in the loop, is a part of Dean, a facet of his self.

In the last few days, browsing through tumblr, I have noticed that different people have different interpretations of the positivity or negativity of Dean’s experience with the bar in the mental scenario. Some bloggers have emphasized a positive quality to it: Dean has his own business, is not dependent on anyone, is not shackled to anything, loves what he does, in fact does the thing pretty much exclusively out of love for what he’s doing. Dean is independent and does something he loves, hangs out with a friend he feels comfortable with, is cool with Sam and Cas hunting across the country, while he uses his hunter skills to defend himself and the bar if the occasion arises.

Others, me included (see here and sorta here), have emphasized a negative nature of the situation: the moment Dean is forced to live through on loop, although he doesn’t realize it, has a feel of isolation to it; the cinematography gives a dark, claustrophobic sense to the ambience. The bar is almost empty, and implied not to be successful; Dean only serves alcohol to himself and his staff member. He spills monsters’ blood in an establishment that serves food that he is responsible for, he who as a thing for cleanliness...! The only things that happen in the loop are Dean serving alcohol for himself and his waitress, resisting the pressure to sell the place, and killing vampires who’ve attacked the place. There’s emphasis - we hear it over and over - on the fact that Sam and Cas are on a hunting trip and Dean only knows when they should be back, meaning he’s not sure. Here I have basically described how being a bartender would be good for Dean: and that’s not what we see Dean doing, not what Dean really experiences in the scene playing on loop.

Now, I am not saying one’s right and one’s wrong (heck, I’ll be the first person to be happy if Dean gets to give food people by choice and is happy about it x x). The amazing thing about Dean Winchester is that you can interpret him and his experiences in completely different ways, and still not be wrong. He is multifaceted. And I think that this is the key point here.

There’s definitely a part of Dean that would appreciate the scenario. No major responsibilities towards others, his own business instead of the suffocating “family business” built on guilt and sense of duty. A job that allows him to take care of people in a very lowkey way - he serves them alcohol and food but is not responsible for them (he isn’t fazed by a drunk guy passed out). But that’s also not all of what Dean is. I’m reminded more of what a teenage Dean, tightly wrapped in the ties of the family as run by John, considered an ideal career: fix cars, which then leave, and you’re no longer responsible for them. Would something like that be enough for him now?

Dean thrives surrounded by people - not random people, rather his chosen people, but still people. He loves taking care of them - not because he’s forced to but because he can. In the bar scene, he has Pamela, but everyone else isn’t there.

There’s also something that could be said about the alcohol. Dean and Pamela are the only people we effectively see drink alcohol in the scene. It’s in fact the plot of the scene: Dean prepares drinks for them to drink together. It’s all about alcohol-based socialization. He thinks Cas and Sam have gotten back from the hunt, he immediately prepares a beer for Cas. Alcohol is a ubiquitous part of his life and relationships in this scenario.

So, we’ve had a look to bartender Dean. Now let’s look at Pamela. Confident, going on dates with hot guys, wearing items that subtly (or not so subtly) cue to Cas; equipped with an extreme emotional intelligence and empathy; whose tasks include “cleaning up the blood” when monsters attack the bar. Pamela who worries about Sam and Cas but don’t tell Dean, he’ll use it against me. Who is amused by Cas’ weird (non-flirty) way of talking to ladies.

Pamela is also Dean. A ‘feminine’ side - still badass and assured and strong - whose emotions will be used against him by his own ‘masculine’ side, that prefers to keep his emotions a secret, although projected onto Pamela this becomes a light quip (interesting how she says ‘don’t tell Dean’ not so far away from Dean that he can’t hear her: he doesn’t react, but you expect him to reply ‘I can hear you’ from behind the counter, just like Michael said earlier). A side who carries the memory of getting back from hell thanks to an angel. A side who confidently helps with killing monsters but also tries to wipe out the signs of the violence of the hunting life. A side who is aware of his own emotions and desires and messy psychological things.

I don’t know about you, but for me -- all of this? Also Dean. These aspects get projected onto Pamela because that’s safer. I think this is an important point: Dean keeps aspects on himself that are safer, projects uncomfortable (in various ways) aspects on other ‘characters’ of the scene.

In fact, let’s see the other characters. The drunk unconscious guy who turns up a decoy and attacks Dean and Pamela... is also Dean. The depressed, self-harming side. The side of unhealthy coping mechanisms.

And the vengeful vampire whose nest was killed is also Dean, although there’s a difference - the vampire who yells comes from the outside. It’s like the symbolism is saying that revenge and aggression are part of Dean’s identity, but come from the outside.

Now, the business lady. This part is where I had most difficulty figuring out how I was supposed to read it... until I had a realization, which you can find here. Basically, I think that the business lady represents - together with other aspects of the bar, especially the space where Dean does the paperwork - the side of Dean that is attracted to death.

The lady is visually reminiscent of two pivotal figures in the episode Byzantium - Lily Sunder and Anubis. Lily chooses death in the episode, which turns out to be a liberation, an act of elevation and a reward. And Anubis is a deity of the afterlife, tasked with the paperwork. Dean’s office space is also reminiscent of Anubis’ office which we see when Lily arrives there to get her new evaluation. (Please open the link above for the screenshots.)

There is a lot of elements that remind of death (and Death) in Dean’s mental scene, including the Mexican-inspired figures on the wall that connect us to the Mexican restaurant where Dean asked Death to kill him but then killed Death. The parallels with Anubis also make sense, considering that Anubis has been presented as a Dean mirror. And the lady with the briefcase and the paperwork (who, again, comes from the outside), in my opinion, represents the side of Dean that feels the appeal of death, or at least has a closeness to the idea of dying, if you get what I mean. Which opens interesting perspectives.

She offers him a deal. Death for Dean (not necessarily his own) is generally associated to deals. Mary’s demon deal (his first symbolical death is at four...), John’s demon deal, his own demon deal, the deal with Cain, multiple deals of some kind with Death (when he becomes Death for a day, when he kills Death...) and so on (you could say it even starts with Sue-Ann Le Grange’s deal). In particular the episode is filled with references to his experience in hell - which obviously started with his own most iconic deal. I know you said you weren’t interested, but it’s just a few signatures and you could... Dean says that the bar - his soul, his life - isn’t for sale. Rocky’s looks pretty dead. It’s a very generous offer, the lady retorts. Why would I want to give you anything? Keep your gutter soul. It’s too tarnished, anyway. But Dean put his foot down. No deal. The lady stomps off. Dean doesn’t want to die. He has to intention to make that sale. I’ve never had anything this nice.

In this metaphor, the bar becomes his soul, or his life. Many posts have been written about the interior decor of the bar, filled with symbols of what’s important to Dean. In one of the posts I linked earlier I talked about the bar as the Noah’s Ark opposite Michael’s flood, and it makes sense that his soul is this little thing, tossed around the raging waters but never sinking, never breaking.

But just like Dean is both Noah and God, the bar is more than Dean’s life, because Dean is also Death. Not as in the actual entity with the official job (although he’s done it for a little bit...) but he is a force that has everything to do with death. In the wide sense of the concept - the circle of life and death, the cosmic balance. He’s the force that reconciled creation and destruction, he’s basically always walking the line between life and death. He’s a dispenser of death but also overflowing with life. Killer and nurturer at the same time. But I gotta stop before I end up typing 10k words describing Dean.

Dean’s paperwork office, as I pointed out in the post I linked, is reminiscent of Anubis’ office. A deity of death, who represents the judgment of a person’s morality, the moment that determines your salvation or damnation. Anubis told them that he’s just the guy doing the paperwork, he’s not the actual entity that decides whether a person will be saved or not. The individual is the real judge of themselves (Anubis’ own father punished those who judged themselves worthy of condemnation inside their hearts...), humans are the real “Anubis”, the real “God”. The ones writing the story. And Dean, Humanity and Divinity at the same time, best represents this. He’s the god of salvation and damnation. And by the end of the episode we find out that he’s the one who can either save or condemn the universe - of course.

Behind Anubis there’s a clock, behind Dean there’s a fan. Circles that keep running in the same motion, round and round, the ouroboros of life and death and creation and destruction. Eternity and time. (I haven’t been touching the topic for a while, but at some point I was very intrigued by the undercurrent of space and time in the Dabb era, and maybe it’s time to get the topic out).

I’m going to conclude this post here because otherwise I might go on forever. Thoughts?

[scripttorture]

Could you comment on the language of "breaking" someone? Is it torture apologia? If a survivor said something true (or thinks they did while delirious) (even if the torturers couldn't tell it from lies) or complied in other ways, might they consider themself to have been "broken", and if so, how could this be addressed in therapy? Are there certain kinds of language survivors are more or less likely to use to describe what they went through? Thanks!

Idespisethe description of ‘breaking’ someone but I don’t think it’snecessarily torture apologia.

Thedescription comes from a very specific historical context: the act ofbreaking on the wheel, a historical torturous execution from Europe(so old and used so widely throughout Europe that I wouldn’tassociate it with any particular country). A victim was tied to anobject with their arms and legs outstretched. Their limbs were thensystematically broken with a large hammer, going from the feet intowards the body and from the hands in towards the body.

Here’sa description of what the practice does to a victim from the time itwas carried out: ‘a sort of huge screaming puppet writhing inrivulets of blood, a puppet with four tentacles, like a sea monsterof raw, slimy and shapeless flesh mixed with splinters of smashedbones’

Ifa character literally goes through that then I can’t object to thedescription, any more then I could object to the description ‘hanged’if a character was hanged.

Butlet’s face it, that’s not the context we tend to hear thislanguage in. It tends to be part of a piece of ‘reasoning’ forwhy a character was tortured or a piece that’s supposed to impressupon the reader that the character is irreparably ‘damaged’. Andthat isoften torture apologia because it’s often placed in the narrativeand presented as fact, unpleasant and immoral, but fact.

ThatsaidI think the situation is more complicated then that because bothsurvivors and torturers tend to use this sort of language.

Andthere’s a big difference between having a charactervoice an opinion, however misguided, wrong or unpleasant, and havingthe narrative back up that opinion.

Asa result I don’t think a blanket ‘ban’ on this kind ofdescription is the answer. Instead I think it’s about appreciatingwhere that description comes from, what it often implies and howpeople use it in reality.

I’veread accounts from rape survivors in the Middle East that framed theattack in terms of them losing their virginity and hencetheir worth asa person.I find that idea, and the implications bound up in it, abhorrent. Ithink it’s wrong. But it’s what those women reported, it’s whatthey felt. Because it’s what their families, their schooling andtheir culture had taught them.

Ithink the way torture survivors talk about ‘breaking’ is similar.I think weteach them that they’ve been ‘broken’. Because that’s thelanguage we use to frame their pain and suffering.

Asfor who considers themselves ‘broken’- I’m going to have to gofrom anecdotes here because that isn’t something that’s generallydirectly addressed in the research I’ve seen.

Alot of torture survivors carry a great deal of guilt and self-blame.A lot of those feelings are not logical, they’re related to thingscompletely outside the survivor’s control.  

Idon’t think from theanecdotal accounts by survivors that I’ve read that there’s anyone event or scenario which causes survivors to feel that they are‘broken’ or express the feeling in those terms.

Peoplewho falsely believe they’ve given out accurate information can feelthis way. But so can people who never said anything and people whoare completely ignorant/innocent.

Thedetermining factor may well have nothing to do with what thetorturers did or what the victim did while tortured. It might havemore to do with the survivor’s prior attitude to mental health,what specific symptoms they manifest, how they interpret thosesymptoms and  what those symptoms prevent them from doing.

Asurvivor whose symptoms stop them from doing the things theypreviously defined themselves by (ie something that prevents a motherfrom giving her children emotional support, something that stops anactivist getting involved in politics again etc) mightbe more likely to consider themselves ‘broken’.

Ialso get the impression that this is something that varies with time.A survivor who is struggling a lot at that particular moment is a lotmore likely to use a phrase like ‘broken’ then one who has had adecent week.

Whichis something I’ve seen among mentally ill people who are notsurvivors. In much the same way I’ve seen it among disabled peopletalking about their health problems.

‘Whyis my brain broken?’

‘Mywhole body is broken today.’

Andso on.

Thesearen’t healthy expressions, in my opinion. But they’re how we’retaught to view ourselves.

AndI think survivors need to be allowed to express how they feel, evenwhen some of those feelings are probably unhealthy. Sometimes it’s…..the disease talking and that’s often unpleasant but it’s alsopart of the process.

Idon’t think there’s anything wrong with showing that in fiction:quite the opposite actually. It can be affirming to at least somesurvivors because it echoes how they feel.

Ihave no idea how thisis addressed in therapy though because I’m not a mental healthprofessional. It would be best to have a look through ScriptShrink’sblog for advice on that.

Myimpression from what I’ve seen of the research is that there is nota ‘standard’ treatment for torture survivors. So the way atherapist responds may well be down to the individual. It’s alsovery likely that the therapist a survivor sees first won’t be anexpert on torture or trauma survivors specifically.

Andthat’s as much information as I feel I can accurately give becauseI don’t have a good working knowledge of how therapy is usuallyconducted.

Thelanguage survivors use varies really widely. That isn’t surprisingbecause they’re a hugely varied group of people.

Froma writing perspective I don’t think there should be any sort of setscript. Not all survivors are going to be eloquent or well educatedor emotionally capable of expressing exactly what they went through.I think showing that variety is important.

Whichbrings us back to individual characters.

Ithink that how any one character expresses what they survived shouldbe rooted in the character themselves.

PersonallyI’ve had characters who were deliberately not eloquent, whocouldn’t easily express the emotional storm and the pain they weregoing through. That’s because I wanted that character’s actionsto speak for them. I wanted the reader to see these emotions throughwhat they drive the character to do, rather than through emotivespeeches.

I’vealso had characters who find it almost impossible to confront whatthey survived, even years later. They go out of their way to avoidreminders and don’t talk about how they feel at all. I’ve hadcharacters try to hide the ‘damage’ of what was done to them.

AndI’ve had characters who confront what they survived head on andwear their hearts on their sleeves.

That’snot an exhaustive list of responses by any means. It’s more anexample of how varied responses in fiction could be. Each other theseresponses is possible, and I chose them based on both the characterand the role they play in the narrative.

Thecharacter whose emotions come out in their actions is from a groupthat’s often… depicted as very good at arguing but gets nothingpractical done. I tend to useavoidant character and vocal characters to contrast each other.

Thinkabout the character/s you’re writing. Try to work in diverseresponses and try to considerthe overall story.

Ifyou’d like to read some accounts from trauma survivors to help getan idea of how people express themselves I think the best place foryou is probably Amnesty International. They’ve got a very goodsearch function on their website. Look up torture. Look for reportsthat contain quotes rather than campaigns.

Alot of these reports are difficult reading and the quotes often makeup a small proportion of them. Take your time and space out yourreading.

Ihope this helps. :)

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littlelonghairedoutlaw replied to your post “littlelonghairedoutlaw replied to your post “Star, Aquarius, Orion” ...”

oh totally. death has become such a taboo and awkward subject to talk about and it's so shrouded in euphemism which some people might find helpful, but to me it feels more like it's a subject we've pushed away as not being appropriate to think or talk about, and if you do think or talk about it then you're branded as being morbid or weird. it's definitely possible to have an unhealthy relationship with it, but it's a natural process and it needs to be opened up about

“plus it's just so endlessly fascinating just to ruminate on. some of my favourite things that i've written in fic are rituals around death and what that means to different characters and how they cope with it, and it's therapeutic but it's also fulfilling just to muse about it and what can happen and how people can mourn and grieve in different contexts”

Exactly! Obviously you don’t have to revel in it or surround yourself with reminders of it if that’s not your way of handling it, but it is so, so important that we allow ourselves both as individuals and as a society to ask those sort of questions, even knowing we’re not necessarily going to get an answer. We need to be able to talk about it and think about it because that’s how we’re going to process it.

Okay writing around the themes of death and grief and facing your own mortality are some of my favourite things to write (though I don’t know that I’ve done so in much fic yet). It’s definitely got that sort of catharsis to it, like you’re able to process it multiple times and get a feel for how you feel about it yourself, and it’s also an interesting look into the characters’ psyches to put them in that situation. It’s honestly kind of humbling, when you get down to it, and very humanizing when done right.

I think I even mentioned at some point that part of what I love about your Delta-verse is the way the two grieve over Erik (even before he passes) and how differently they deal with it + how that sort of remembrance and coping spreads to their son. It's wonderful.

[gentleoverdrive]

(32/?) Kurt Ballou skanking fistfight lessons.

Writing unhealthy characters can sometimes be extremely unfun. Not because I dislike writing them or because what constitutes the core in said characters; quite the opposite: There's always something I find deeply fascinating in watching a fictitious individual who's not necessarily well put-together try to fight back against the well-worn asphalt they have dug their heels in, that I can seldom get captivated like that anywhere else on any sort of entertainment. ---- No, writing unhealthy characters is not fun sometimes because I have to write them. You know how screwed up it is to craft, spell-check, proofread and edit a voice that, more often than not, goes places that you've learned to regularly avoid in your everyday life? Someone who reminds you of instances that you've come to regret? Of your past vices? And sometimes, it starts getting way uglier. ---- Thanks to my psychiatrist, I've learned to let go of a lot of unhealthy things and habits one by one, but sometimes, mining the "places" you've previously been to for creative endeavors can be weird. Like, you're not that person anymore, but whenever you look back, you think "fuck, this is hard!". ---- Does this make sense? Sorta? Heck, I've been rambling a bit too much, haven't I? Well, let's bring it home for the night, then. See ya' tomorrow, whoever's still reading these!