#which isn’t much considering I could have concluded that by just looking at the title

[gusenitsaa]

Waking up at 4am after having fallen asleep listening to a Dresden files audiobook makes for some weird dreams…

In related news it has been long enough since I’ve read these books that i know the characters really well but the situations feel only vaguely familiar. Rereading favorites after a few years is fun, it’s amazing how much you forget 😂

This reread is very poor planning … I really should not get reobsessed until there’s a publishing date for the next one 😬

[cookie-nom-nom]

since I don’t start arguments in reblogs:

hey guys. Hey. I’m all for critically examining the source of ideas that we teach within schools. Lord knows people throwing the tragedy of the commons around makes me twitchy! However. Researching the actual origins of theories is involved in that, not taking pieces out of context.

Specifically, I’m talking about Charles Darwin. Is he racist by modern standards? Assuredly. But given the fact he was staunchly opposed to slavery and some historians (not without critique! But still) argue that trying to oppose racist sentiments that White and Black people are entirely different species was an instrumental part driving force for On the Origins of Species…I find it a rather disingenuous stance.

So Darwin returned to England [from America] thanking God "I shall never again visit a slave-country." The events were seared into his memory. "To this day," he wrote in 1845, "if I hear a distant scream, it recalls with painful vividness my feelings, when passing a house near Pernambuco [probably in the old town of Olinda in Brazil], I heard the most pitiable moans, and could not but suspect that some poor slave was being tortured, yet knew that I was as powerless as a child even to remonstrate."

^source

I feel fine in critiquing him from a stand point that he could’ve tried to do more, because we ALL can do more. But calling him racist? I think at the very least within the context of his times, he would be considered antiracist.

Specifically what was being called out was the full title, On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life. The argument being he was talking about human races. But within the text of Origins, Darwin goes out of his way to not mention humans which I can rather understand given he was already hesitating on publishing the theory because of the expected (and received) societal backlash. So claiming it’s a racist text on just the title alone of a book that doesn’t go into human race at all? Decidedly shows a lack of research to me.

Maybe part of it is my personal pet peeve of ‘survival of the fittest’ being attributed to Darwin, or in fact any of the racism, classism, and eugenics involved in the Social Darwinism movement being attributed to Darwin, because it is a complete misunderstanding of the theory of evolution. Like, looking at some of the uglier outcomes of people building off his ideas in horrible ways…yeah, I can see why someone might use that to conclude Darwin had ugly roots that others ran with. But also lots of awful racism was happening when no one believed in evolution and Black people were simply a [[[different, inferior species that is totally fine to enslave and torture and dehumanize (because they aren’t human beings like us)]]]. So I think racism itself has a practice of stealing science to justify itself (Scientific Racism yippee) and it isn’t so much the theory itself and more the racists using it to justify themselves. Than Darwin in particular. Especially because the idea that White and Black and other races have a common ancestor (HAVE THINGS IN COMMON) was radical to begin with.

I’m not a great men of history guy, personally. Charles Darwin isn’t even the only person who figured out evolution -say hello Alfred Russel Wallace!- and I definitely agree that interrogating the source texts and people credited to large scientific advancements is crucial in education. Buuuuuuut when the facts of the matter is that Darwin was an abolitionist, decrying him for being racist seems iffy to me. Moral relativity is a whole conundrum, and I’m sure, I’m so sure that Darwin had racist ideas and practices (and sexist ones too!), but not acknowledging that within his time he was radically antiracist….again, feels disingenuous.

Lastly, I would like to end on this quote from Darwin from his autobiography Descent because I think it displays the mixed bag well:

“The great sin of Slavery has been almost universal, and slaves have often been treated in an infamous manner. As barbarians do not regard the opinion of their women, wives are commonly treated like slaves.”

Abolitionist? Yes, clearly against the horrors of slavery. Racist? It’s clearly influenced by the myth of ‘civilization vs barbarians’. Also because I wasn’t expecting the feminism from a man who is also noted as being sexist. Almost as if people’s ethics are not in black and white and full of contradictions. I think the flaw in marking people as all evil and irredeemably problematic and then discarding them thereafter is, well, we all exist within flawed cultures and you’ll throw out the good parts as well. And when someone is an abolitionist in the 1800s, I think that’s a pretty big thing to mention if you’re deciding they’re racist and we shouldn’t be teaching about them. Hold your heroes to scrutiny; but actually scrutinizing them requires research. Mine today is admittedly surface level, I’m a biologist not a historian, but I think the point stands.

Sources ^-^

^critiquing the anti racism cornerstone theory historians Desmond and Moore posed, but nonetheless agreeing he’s antiracist within his context

^counter argument, because yes, Darwin did say racist and sexist stuff! Again we embrace the complicated truths of history!

^discussing the mixed bag of Darwin

[robininthelabyrinth]

Curse-breaker (Chapter 4/4)

- ao3 -

“You know him, right?” Jiang Cheng asked Lan Xichen. He was trying not to appear as nervous as he felt in asking, but he was pretty sure he was failing. “Nie-gongzi?”

Lan Xichen smiled. “I do. And thank you for calling him that, he prefers it.”

There were those that had started calling him Curse-breaker, as if it were a proper title; Jiang Cheng had heard it said a few times, and while he didn’t personally disagree with the moniker, which seemed appropriate, he also knew better than to just drop it into a conversation.

Luckily. He was trying to make a good impression here.

“What’s he like?” Jiang Cheng blurted out, then immediately wanted to kick himself. “I mean – it’s just – I didn’t see him much when he visited the Lotus Pier –”

He was making it worse.

It was only that he’d never quite met anyone with so much presence as Nie Mingjue: taller even than Jiang Cheng’s father, with that strange eye that seemed to see everything and anything. His features were generally set in a neutral expression that made him seem almost unworldly, like some god untouched by human concerns, but which sometimes softened a little when he approved of something – or someone.

Jiang Cheng could feel his cheeks going red, and tried to suppress it.

“Mingjue-xiong liked you,” Lan Xichen said, and Jiang Cheng lost the battle at once, his whole face heating up until it felt unbearably hot. This was worse than the time that Nie Mingjue had come to the Lotus Pier and told his parents to value Jiang Cheng more or else, and then his father had come in with a smirk and a snarl and somehow made them do it. “He said so.”

“He did?”

“Oh, yes. He said you were talented and faithful, with a good heart, and that we’d see great things from you.”

Jiang Cheng was going to die.

“That’s nice,” he said, with an effort. “I thought very highly of him, too. He’s…great.”

Wow. ‘Great’. Was that really the best he could do?

Lan Xichen studied him for a moment, then nodded. “He really is,” he said, and sighed. “I had the same reaction, you know. He’s…a lot.”

Jiang Cheng felt seen. “I know,” he said effusively. “He’s just – you know?”

“I do,” Lan Xichen said. “Just –”

He waved his hand in the air. Not even making some sort of gesture, just a meaningless sort of wave, but for some reason Jiang Cheng understood him completely.

There really just weren’t words sometimes, when you wanted to describe things or people that inspired feelings that went beyond the merely describable. Nie Mingjue was one of those – Jiang Cheng had known that Lan Xichen would understand, and sure enough, he did.

And to think that Wei Wuxian liked Lan Wangji better!

Really, his shixiong might be more talented than Jiang Cheng in many ways, ways that were often a matter of jealousy, but Jiang Cheng clearly had better taste.

“Oh, there you are,” a voice said, and Jiang Cheng tensed and turned to look – but it was only Wen Qing, so that was fine. “Lan-gongzi, Jiang-gongzi, I was sent to spend some time with you.”

She probably meant that she was sent away so that the adults would have time to talk about issues they thought were too sensitive to involve the younger generation, or else they just wanted to start drinking earlier in the afternoon than usual and didn’t want her judging them from a medical standpoint. Either might be true – Wen Qing was widely acclaimed as one of the most talented in their generation, as terrifying with her needles as other people might be with their sword, from more or less the first moment she’d finally been allowed to join the rest of them on equal grounds.

They greeted her, trying to stand up to be polite, but she waved them down irritably and took a seat instead. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nie Mingjue,” Lan Xichen said, and Jiang Cheng nodded. “We were just commenting on his many admirable qualities.”

Jiang Cheng nodded a second time, even more emphatically.

Wen Qing looked at them both with that critical eye of hers for a long moment.

Then she sighed in a huff. “He’s really all that and more, isn’t he?” she said.

“He is,” Lan Xichen said.

“He’s just –” Jiang Cheng tried the same gesture as Lan Xichen earlier, and was gratified when Wen Qing started nodding herself in total agreement. “Right?”

“Right.”

-

Nie Mingjue was aware that many people liked to stare at them, but they had assumed it was because of how unusual they were – even putting aside the eye, which was their most obviously not-normal feature, their behavior was not always in line with regular people’s. They didn’t show their emotions on their face as easily, being more naturally inclined towards sternness, and their manner was both sharp and incisive, straightforward and blunt; they had missed critical years of social development while lost in what amounted to seclusion, too busy solidifying their sense of self, consolidating their we into an I.

(They were still trying to figure out gender, a process complicated by the fact that it hadn’t made much sense to either of them to begin with. They were starting to suspect it would be better to just give up on it entirely.)

It turned out, according to Nie Huaisang, that that was not why all those people were staring.

“When you say they like me…”

“Sexually or romantically attracted, usually both,” Nie Huaisang said. “You have a lot of would-be suitors. Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng, Wen Qing, Wen Ning, Jiang Yanli –”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to use their names directly like that,” Nie Mingjue said, though they weren’t sure about that. They’d forgotten more etiquette than they’d ever learned. “Also, isn’t Jiang Yanli getting married to Jin Zixuan?”

“He’s another of your admirers. As is Meng Yao…no, sorry, Jin Ziyao. You know he secretly thinks that you killed Jin Guangshan for him, right?”

They’d killed Jin Guangshan because he was rotten through and through, and he didn’t even have a qi deviation or a tormenting heart demon to blame for it. He just thought of people as things, even the ones he supposedly liked, and acted accordingly…they hadn’t really thought through the consequences of killing him when they’d done it, having long ago forgotten the concept of political considerations, but it was really amazing what could be covered up or excused if multiple sect leaders put their minds to it while the rest just breathed a sigh of relief that Jin Guangshan was gone.

“That seems like too many people,” they said. “They can’t all be my…admirers.”

“You think that’s it? I haven’t even gotten to Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian – both at once, if that’s your preferred flavor – and even that feral child Jin Ziyao found in Kuizhou…you know just the other week, he loudly declared that you were better than sweets and the entire room sighed all at once in agreement?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. There are even rumors that say that Sect Leader Wen might be interested…”

They shrugged.

Nie Huaisang squinted at them. “Da-ge. Did you know about that one?”

“Sect Leader Wen is not subtle,” they said dryly. “But if it makes you feel better, his interest is purely a matter of cultivation, and also our father has already hit him for even making the suggestion.”

Nie Huaisang didn’t look impressed. “Are you sure it’s purely a matter of cultivation? Would you be able to tell if it wasn’t?”

Nie Mingjue considered how little they’d recognized any of the other people who were purportedly interested in them. “No,” they admitted.

“Hmm. What about Teacher Lan?”

“What about Teacher Lan?” they asked, suspicious.

“Nothing, nothing. Just something I read somewhere…”

Probably one of those spring books that he was always sneaking around, they concluded.

“Though…you have been going out of your way to meet up with Teacher Lan more often recently…”

“He’s helping me figure out some of the bureaucratic intricacies of changing succession,” they said. “He’s had the most experience, having to do it twice – once to get his brother out of the line of succession, and another to get him back in. He’s a good teacher.”

He was, too. For all of Nie Huaisang’s tall tales about Lan Qiren’s strictness and overly-rigid insistence on orthodoxy, the man himself had a very calming presence, still and tranquil. It made them think of a musical instrument and, using the Nie cultivation method as a base, start to think strange thoughts…

Though not the sorts of thoughts Nie Huaisang had in mind.

“I mean, I guess. Even I learned eventually, and – wait. Why do you need to know about how to change succession? You’re already the heir.”

“That’s the problem,” Nie Mingjue said. “I need to figure out how to abdicate my position in your favor.”

Nie Huaisang gaped at him.

“No, I’m not joking,” they said, because they knew their little brother. “I’m not suited for politics. I don’t think I ever was, and after everything that happened, I’m even less suited.”

They really weren’t. Too blunt, too sharp, too concerned with justice, too inhuman – they were good at fighting, in the sense that they knew how to be a saber as well as a human and could wield sharpness in the same way, a slash from their fingers being enough to cleave a man in half, but that wasn’t what being a sect leader was about.

No, Nie Huaisang would be much better at it.

“Da-ge, you can’t do this to me!” Nie Huaisang wailed. “Do you know how much work it’d be? Anyway, you can’t – our father’s already promised all of Qinghe Nie to your future spouse! So there!”

“Then I just won’t ever get married.”

“What?!” Nie Huaisang waved his hands wildly. “You can’t do that! You – you – do you know how many hearts you’d be breaking?!”

“So you’ve informed me,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “It’s all right, Huaisang. I rather like the life Teacher Lan has made for himself, traveling all around and coming back every few seasons to teach something. I want to fight evil, and there’s a lot more evil out there than there is in here.”

Or, at minimum, there was more evil of the sort they were allowed to just stab. That was apparently frowned upon, in politics – there was a reason they said they weren’t suited for it.

“You’re not suited for fighting evil with a blade,” they added while Nie Huaisang was still spluttering. “But you can do wonders with people, if you’re given enough time to plan it. Being sect leader will put you in the position that will let you fight evil best, in your own way.”

“Not everything is about fighting evil, da-ge!”

“Isn’t it?”

Nie Huaisang didn’t seem to have a good answer to that.

After a while, he finally said, “…you really think I’d be good at it?”

Nie Mingjue pulled their younger brother in for a hug.

“You’ll be magnificent,” they promised.

-

They liked travel, just as they’d suspected they would.

People always recognized them – the eye was very distinctive, and they were also very tall – and immediately rushed over to share all their problems. They were very happy to help. Some of them they could fix personally, generally the ones that were stabbable, while they had a wide enough set of acquaintances to deal with many of the others: those who needed healing to go to the Lan sect or Wen sect, depending on whether problem was mental or physical; those that needed advancement to the Jin sect or Jiang sect; mysteries to be solved to the newly established Wei sect over in Yiling; and anyone with anything more abstruse than that over to Nie Huaisang personally to sort of.

Their little brother liked a good puzzle.

As for Nie Mingjue’s part, they liked fighting evil, and they liked helping people, too, if they could manage it, so it all worked out quite well. The road could be a little lonely at times, all alone with no one around, but it wasn’t really that bad. They were welcome at just about every cultivation sect and most of the other places they’d passed by, so it wasn’t like they were lacking for company if they wanted it.

It was only sometimes that they wished that there was someone else who might want to share this type of life with them.

It was a difficult life, always roving and never satisfied, intent on fighting evil for an eternity and prizing the doing of it over normal things, everyday things; they knew that they couldn’t ask someone else to take on a mission so absurd as stamping out all evil in the world, and so they didn’t. Who would be so foolish as that? Not everyone could leave behind all their responsibilities and ties to the world the way they did, passing instead through their beloved one’s lives by chance like a leaf tossed in the wind – nor should they, if those ties gave them joy.

Take their current mission, for example. One of Nie Mingjue’s earlier trips had taken them from Yiling to the Baixue Temple, with the highly unorthodox Wei sect’s equally unorthodox head disciple, Xue Yang, tagging along with them so that they could – in Wei Wuxian’s words – beat some sense into his head, and it had been on that trip that they had met Song Lan, who was thoroughly charmed by the idea of a sect established on principles of brotherhood rather than blood.

He'd also been rather charmed, they thought, by Xue Yang himself, and the interest had been mutual.

(They were getting better at recognizing that sort of thing.)

So Song Lan had gone off with them, with Nie Mingjue dropping both him and Xue Yang back in Yiling, and when he’d gone back again another time they had seemed very happy. But Song Lan had been thinking about his master and martial brothers back at home, and he’d asked if Nie Mingjue would be willing to carry along some letters that he didn’t dare trust to the post.

Nie Mingjue, suspecting a request regarding marriage was involved, had readily agreed. Sure enough, once they’d dropped it off, the entire Baixue Temple had all but exploded in excitement – they’d barely managed to make it out of there in time to avoid being dragged into all the fuss.

And now they were wandering around nearby, shaking their head in amusement at all the noise they’d left behind, looking for something more interesting to do. Some evil to fight, or something like that.

They found both.

“Well, that was exhilarating,” they commended to the cultivator in white that had worked together with them to defeat a rather astounding number of evil creatures in an effort to save some rogue cultivators who’d gotten in over their heads. Nie Mingjue’s reputation was already ridiculous, and was only going to get worse, they knew, but really this was a lot even for them. They wouldn’t have been able to manage it without help.

“It was,” the cultivator said, and smiled at them. “My name is Xiao Xingchen, disciple of Baoshan Sanren. Who are you?”

“Nie Mingjue,” they said. They thought they’d heard of Baoshan Sanren before, but they weren’t entirely sure – they had a tendency to forget things that weren’t that important to them. They thought it might be something to do with Wei Wuxian’s mother –something to do with the immortal mountain, and a doom that fell on those who descended from it…?

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did those rogue cultivators call you Curse-breaker?” Xiao Xingchen asked.

They thought about it for a moment, then shrugged.

Xiao Xingchen laughed.

It was a warm sound.

“Where are you going?” Nie Mingjue asked. “I can escort you, if you like.”

“Don’t you have things of your own to be doing?”

“Not really,” Nie Mingjue said. “I want to eradicate all evil in this world, a task that’ll take me a lifetime – and evil can be found anywhere. Why not with you?”

Xiao Xingchen ducked his head. “I don’t have a destination either,” he admitted. “I came down from the mountain because I wanted to help save all the people in the world.”

Nie Mingjue blinked. That was nearly as stupidly idealistic a goal as theirs.

“Well, then,” they said, and smiled. “In that case, why don’t we go together?”

It would be nice to have company, unrestrained by any obligations tied to the mortal world, and in return they could show Xiao Xingchen everything there was to see – introduce him to all the people, eat all the food, fight all the battles. And if in the end it turned out that that doom people talked about in regards to the mountain really was a thing…

Well, they’d see about that.

After all, Nie Mingjue had a bit of experience with curses like that.

[caker-baker]

If There Was A Crown

It wasn’t everyday one was summoned to the royal court, and definitely not everyday a baker was summoned.

If the baker happened to be in their hero form, they might have understood, but as a regular kingdom citizen, they didn’t understand.

They had dealt with the royals, sure, but not like this, not when they were still halfway covered in flour.

Had they done something wrong? Was their bakery being repossessed? Or worse, demolished?

The hero didn’t like the stares of the people as they approached the dais, a million and one thoughts were racing through their head already, they didn’t need anyone else’s.

Upon the dais was the prince’s throne, and upon that was the prince, who sat almost amused.

“Baker.” He addressed.

The hero kneeled before they spoke. “Your royal highness.”

This seemed to further amuse the prince, who leaned forward in anticipation.

“Do you know why you have been brought here?”

“No, your highness.”

The prince’s eyes shone in amazement, a wide cat like smile forming. “You have been accused as terrorizing the kingdom under the pseudonym ‘Villain’,” before the hero could open their mouth, the prince held up his hand. “These acts include but are not limited to: larceny, arson, and murder. How do you plead?”

The court burst into chatter, louder and louder.

“I-I-” the hero couldn’t breath, their still kneeling self wobbling. “No! Not guilty, your highness.”

The prince almost rolled his eyes, but didn’t, instead choosing to motion to the guards to come forward.

“On what grounds, baker?”

Cold manacles were placed on the hero before they could blink, the whispers of the court members becoming more suffocating by the second.

“On the-” their mouth went dry.

How could they explain this?

They disappeared at odd times, generally the same time as the true villain, so that was incriminating enough; but they couldn’t outright say they were Hero. What if the real villain was here? Then they would know everything.

“The grounds that-”

“Yes, baker?” With another motion from the prince, the hero was hoisted upwards aprubtly, cold manacles on their wrists, and even colder hands on their arms.

The prince hadn’t even bothered to give the hero a chance to explain, he was having fun with this.

The reality of the situation slowly closed in on the hero, who suddenly found their tongue.

“My lord, please, you have to believe me, you can ask any of my loyal customers, any of the neighboring shops, I wouldn’t harm a fly.”

The prince pretended to consider this with his chin rested in his hand.

“And until speaking to them is possible, you will be held prisoner as Villain. That is all.”

So nonchalant, so nonchalantly the prince waved his hand as a dismissal, it made the hero want to scream. But they couldn’t do that, their hands were tied.

Well, chained.

And chained didnt change much, it was over, the hero had already thought this out.

Once they arrived at whatever cell or dungeon the apparently cruel prince had ready for the villain, the hero would begin to find an escape. After that, they couldn’t go back to their bakery, they couldn’t go back to anything, they would have to live as Hero forever.

Something hit their heart, the thought of never going back to the bakery. It felt heavy.

The hero didn’t notice the creaking door being unlocked, nor the wall which they were chained to, their bakery occupied their mind.

Even if they were proven innocent, which, judging by how the prince acted, they wouldn’t be, who would go to an accused villain’s bakery? How would the hero make a living now?

Or will this lead to the chopping block?

The hero shivered and blinked a few times to properly examine their predicament. It was a cell, there was no question about that, but it looked personalized. A bed in the corner, a stack of books beneath it, and a small desk with a chair.

A cell, but a used one, probably from a prisoner with good behavior.

The hero walked to the bars of the cell, at least a foot away from the bars, as the chains didn’t allow any further.

Chains in a cell?

That was strange, but if the prince believed them the villain, it would be reasonable enough.

If the prince deems me a villain, why this cell?

Something was wrong here.

“Everything to your liking, baker?” A voice sneered.

The hero’s eyes lit up, that voice was the prince, the prince was here. Maybe they could prove their innocence.

“Your highness, please, please, I am innocent, whoever accused me is wrong, I-”

“I accused you.” The prince interrupted, so sharp and firm the hero almost though they imagined it.

At the hero’s shocked face, the prince laughed.

“I do enjoy seeing you helpless.” He took off his crown, examining it in his hands. “It’s fitting for a pesky hero.”

Again, the hero felt their body begin to shake, perhaps out of anger.

“What?”

Cold and victorious eyes glanced up from investigating the crown. “You heard me, Hero. Or should I say it differently?” The prince cleared his throat. “I do love watching pesky heroes squirm.”

The hero felt themselves fall, the chains making a clattering sound that rang in their ears, similar to how those words someone else had spoken a week prior rang.

“You,” they began, now eternally grateful for the bars. “Are villain. You’re villain.”

The prince bowed, never taking his eyes off the hero. “In the flesh. And crown.” He smirked at that.

“But-” the hero felt at a loss for everything. At least now the accusation somewhat made sense. “But why? Your kingdom, why terrorize it?”

“You know nothing, pesky little hero.”

The hero heard the creaking door, and suddenly realized bars didn’t do much when the heir to the throne was involved.

Still, through the fear and confusion, the hero found their legs and stood, looking the prince in his eyes. It was bravery, and they would die by that.

Or maybe it was stupidity, the odds were against them.

“The only time I have seen you this close,” the prince began, “is when I managed the upper hand against that wall.”

His steps were slow, his hands even slower. Fingers delicately lifted the hero’s chin, who still looked straight on.

“Do you remember that?” He asked in a whisper, using his thumb to trace over the hero’s bottom lip.

The hero wanted to back away, but the prince had somehow already walked them into a wall. This, to the hero, was exactly like the time the villain managed the upper hand.

“That was nothing like this.” The prince concluded, finally stepping away after disagreeing with the hero’s internal monologue.

As if looking at his handiwork, the prince let his eyes trail up and down the hero.

“Tell me, how does a baker who shakes when they’re scared turn into a skilled acrobatic hero?”

“I don’t owe you anything.” The hero insisted, having pretended their mask was on. “But you owe us, you owe your kingdom’s citizens everything you ever took, including their lives!”

The prince made a tsking sound. “Pesky little heroes thinking they know everything. I have bigger plans for this place, worth much more than a few measly lives.”

“They’re your people!”

He sighed. “Yes, they are, and they will thank me in the future. Well, not the villain, the prince. They will thank the villain in secret.”

The hero saw the crown behind the prince’s back shine. Why was he hiding it?

“What happens when when the villain makes another appearance? Everyone will know it isn’t me, I’m here.”

“I would actually enjoy your input.” The prince said, that same amused shine in his eye. “See, I say you escaped and ban anyone from coming down here, barring me, of course.”

The hero’s horrified face made the prince chuckle.

“Or I have everyone forget. Some baker who disappears regularly, no real roots, no family, no friends, just customers and neighbors. No one will remember you, no one but me. Who cares if one falsely accused baker wastes away? Everyone will move on.”

“And those neighbors and customers?” The hero countered, a sliver of hope still alight in them.

“I suppose you wouldn’t know, but it is surprisingly simple to pay off someone.”

The shaking came back.

“So,” The prince started, eyes watching the small trembles from the baker. “Which will it be? Have everyone forget, or live the rest of your life as a villain?”

“No.” The hero whispered. “Why abuse your power like this?”

The prince was closer to the hero, closer than they liked.

“I suppose if there was a crown on your head, you would find a way to make everything fair, no need for violence, no need to burn something anew.”

Closer still.

“But I will let you in on a secret.”

He was on the hero now, pinning them to the wall with such force the hero felt their fighting reflexes kick in. It didn’t much good though, as the prince slammed the hero against the wall again the minute they moved.

“Until the old man keels over,” The words were whispered into the hero’s ear. “this is all the power I have. This is what I can do.”

“You can hurt people?” The hero whispered back. “Threaten them, kill them?”

The prince stared in shock. “Do you think I’m going to kill you?” He laughed. “Did you not hear any of what I said?”

One hand moved to the hero’s cheek. “No.” He muttered. “No, hero, I won’t be killing you.”

Something heavy fell onto the hero’s head.

“It suits you I think.” The prince spoke, not moving his hand from the hero’s face. “What a pretty royal you would make.”

The crown.

“Is it strange I felt gratified when you addressed me by my formal title?” The prince continued, this time cupping the hero’s other cheek, effectively caging in their face.

“I think you should say it more often. Who knows? After you end up alone, one way or another, you may work your way up the ranks, perhaps even bake for the palace. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I could get you a better room, if you behave, there are probably a great many things I could do for you.”

This method, this taunting, infuriated the hero, who wanted more than anything to look away, but the prince didn’t seem keen on letting that happen.

“Pesky heroes don’t deserve nice things.” His voice dropped. “But I would make an exception for you.”

“I hate you.” The hero’s voice was just as low as the prince’s.

The prince’s shoulders tensed, but he just shrugged. “Part of the job.”

Finally, after what felt like eternity, the prince’s hands dropped, and the hero was free to lunge at them.

“Oh.” The prince sidestepped. “Pesky might be the wrong word. Feisty, maybe?”

“Keep the crown.” The prince said, slowly closing the creaking door.

Feeling their throat close, the hero finally managed to squeak it out. “And my bakery! What will happen to it?”

“That all depends on you, little hero.”

The prince bowed, and turned.

.

A quick note: Once upon a time I saw something that said “what if the villain was royalty”. I don’t remember where I saw it or who said it, but if you are that person, please let me know so I can credit you!!

[fbfh]

I think you've horribly misread the situation [shitty roommate pt 2] - leo x reader

wc: 2.3k

genre: contemporary drama, you're definitly going to get second hand embarrassment, cozy fluff

pairing: leo x reader, attempted isabella x leo

reader: gender neutral, they/them

requested: hell yeah

warnings: mild swearing, roommate tries to steal your man once again, mentions of various mainstream vampire media (twilight, the vampire diaries etc.), brief mention of castlevania (even though i haven't seen it yet lol), breif mention of videogames and assassins creed, very mild delusion (roommate is secretly convinced leo is a vampire that's in love with her), attempted age gap relationship (she's 17 and leo's 19, he shuts that down real fast), very bad poetry

summary: You and Leo are both looking foward to spending a long weekend together, and Leo is determined not to let anything interrupt it, even if it means turning down your roommate's attempts to seduce him in the kitchen.

a/n: absolutley no hate or shade or judgement to anyone who has the same or similar traits as isabella!!!!!! at her core she's annoying because she's the antagonist, not bc of any isolated trait or traits

also she's shitty cause she keeps trying to steal your boyfriend?????

Edit: I forgot to mention before, but this is a college au where you're both still demigods, so you went to camp and on quests and stuff together

This weekend is going to be all about recharging. Recharging from the ridiculous back to back closing and opening shifts at work, recharging from having to redo that stupid project twice because your professor couldn’t decide on a clear way to define the criteria, and recharging from Isabella having her townie friend Regan over almost non stop to “completely shake up her look” as she put it.

Between the constant presence of someone you’d barely consider an acquaintance and Big Time Rush’s self titled album blasting on repeat out of her giant airpod shaped speaker, it’s been harder than usual to get in some effective self care. You have no idea how many more times you can hear the phrase “I’m going for Jade West meets Elena Gilbert, with just a little Buffy Summers” before you lose your fucking mind.

Thankfully, the hard part is almost over. There’s some minor holiday tomorrow on friday, so you and Leo both have a three day weekend ahead of you, which you intend to spend entirely together. You planned ahead, frontloading homework, chores, errands, and everything you could think of to remove anything that isn’t cuddling or playing video games and watching netflix together from your horizon.

This includes going straight from work to the grocery store to stock the fridge and get any snacks you and Leo want. You had texted him a while ago asking for anything he was craving, and head into the store with a concrete list. After a while, you circle around some aisles, avoiding the check out.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” you muse, knowing it’s untrue, but hoping to trigger a memory anyway. You can’t put it off any longer, finally checking out and heading back to your apartment. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t avoiding Isabella just a little.

You know bringing in all these groceries would be way easier with Isabella and possibly Regan’s help, but you just don’t have the social energy to talk to anyone, much less her, right now. By some miracle, you bring everything in yourself, and hope to get it put away before you see Isabella.

You turn to the freezer, putting away the ice cream. When you turn back around, you’re suddenly met face to face with Isabella, who has opened one of the boxes and is picking at a pastry.

“Hey girlie,” she says, elongating the hey.

“Hey,” you reply lethargically, putting the last of the groceries away. She looks at the pastry in her hand like she’s just noticing it.

“Sorry, I can’t help it, I’m italian.” She smiles, endeared by her own behavior. You have no idea what being italian has to do with asking before you open a box of your roommate’s food, but this really isn’t out of character for her. She brings up the fact that she’s half italian more than Lele Pons blames her behavior on being latina.

She’s wearing sweatpants that say chaser on the leg in red and gold varsity font, and a tight tee shirt that says “it’s okay to love them both” with silhouettes of the male love interests from one of the vampire shows she always watches. You collect the plastic bags to put in recycling, and see a piece of paper on the counter.

It reads as follows:

Drowning in my mind

No one hears me cry

Who was I before society

Before society put me in a pink dress

And handed me blonde hair dye

And told me to lose ten pounds or be labeled a freak?

The happiest people cry the most

Let the lyrics be your story

But I’m not like the other skinny blonde pretty girls

I’m

Different

-b.g. xox

You hold back a sigh.

“I think this is yours.” you say, handing it to her.

“Oh, it’s just some of my poetry I left lying around, that’s so embarrassing.”

I know, you think, you do that all the time.

“Did you read it?” She asks, hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Thank god, that would have been so embarrassing. My poetry is something really… deep, and personal to me.”

“Uh huh. Hey, I’m going to be doing a lot of self care this weekend, so-”

“Oh!” she interjects, eerily similar to Phoebe Buffay - you guess she’s been watching friends again - “I wanted to ask… is Leo coming over later?” Her voice is riddled with subtext, the expression on her face a little too invested in your answer.

“Uh, yeah. I told you the other day we’re spending the weekend together…”

She cuts you off again, a sudden, intense look on her face.

“When will he be here?”

You check your phone, scrolling through your recent texts.

“By 7 at the latest.” It’s around 6:40 now.

“Oh my god, I have to change,” she rushes back to her room, presumably digging through her recent additions to her closet.

You’re frozen for a minute after the interaction, left with a furrowed brow and the beginnings of a headache. You blink, then choose to reschedule processing why she feels the need to change for your boyfriend to a more convenient time. That’s enough of that for today. You don’t care what else happens, you’re not talking to anyone besides Leo for at least the rest of the day. You retreat to your room to finally shower and change into something comfy. As you pass by Isabella’s room, you hear her talking to Regan.

“...There’s something almost… supernatural about him.”

You bite back a laugh.

“Do you think he’s a…” Regan begins, ending the sentence with something too quiet to hear, but you’d bet almost any organ she said vampire.

So close. So, so close, and yet… here you are.

Not much later, Leo texts you to let you know he’s here. You read his text, and run out to hug him in the living room before even typing a reply. He picks you up, and spins you around. The embrace is warm and fulfilling and familiar, and you wish it would last forever.

“Hi, Sparky.” you murmur into his neck.

“Estrella…” he says, rocking you back and forth gently and pressing a kiss into your jawline, “I missed you so much.” He punctuates the sentence with another kiss, this one to your lips, and you smile more genuinely than you have all day. You’re about to agree when you remember the good news you’ve been saving to tell him in person.

“Guess what I got on sale for like, half off,” you start, excitedly, continuing at his invested expression, “the Assassin’s Creed bundle I showed you!”

“No way,” he starts, and you nod.

“I’ll go get everything set up, drinks are in the kitchen!” He watches you retreat into your room, disbelieving how he could possibly get someone as perfect as you to fall for him. He’s not going to question his luck. He grabs a couple caffeinated sparkling ices, and meets you in your room, setting down his bag and grabbing some comfy clothes to change into.

As you both get settled in, you fill each other in on all the ridiculous shit you’ve been through this week. You finally conclude the bizarre - yet somehow standard - Isabella escapades.

“So I will be avoiding all contact as much as possible,” you laugh.

“Yeah, no shit,” he agrees, “Consider me your human buffer.” You thank him, hugging him again and pressing a kiss to his lips.

The next couple hours are spent cuddling and finishing season 4 of Castlevania. Both reeling from the season finale, you agree this is a good place to take a break, get some food, and decide what game you should start with. It’s already 10pm, which most people would consider too late for dinner, but you have all weekend to fuck up your sleep schedules.

“Let’s review,” Isabella says, holding up two red lipsticks. She turns to Regan. “Which one?”

“That one,” Regan says, pointing to the one on the left, then turns to her list, and continues. “Here’s what we know; we’ve never seen him eat, and he never seems tired. He’s really smart-”

“Almost too smart,” Isabella adds, selecting black rose dangle earrings from her jewelry. Regan agrees, and continues.

“He’s almost hypnotically attractive, and his smile is a little too dazzling.”

“There’s something… supernatural about him. Like he’s not… all human.”

Regan writes this down.

“Plus he’s always wearing black and red, and those flowy button up shirts? It’s all adding up, Ree. That dream that someone was outside my window, the ring, everything…” She says, referencing the black and red cocktail ring she’d found with her stuff when she’d first moved, “I’m not saying it’s definite, just that… there’s a chance.”

“What about…” Regan says hesitantly, nodding toward your room.

“Please,” she scoffs, “he’s only with them to get close to me, like Damon and Caroline. Edward couldn’t have just approached Bella out of the blue, he had to infiltrate her friend group first, to seem less suspicious. Not to sound mean or anything, but they really don’t seem like the type someone… like him… would choose.” her voice gets dreamy when she mentions him.

In spite of having seen most mainstream vampire media almost as many times as Isabella, Regan still considers her the expert on these things, and decides not to point out that Edward didn’t infiltrate Bella’s friend group. Maybe it comes up in one of the retellings she hasn’t read yet.

“So, what now?”

Isabella sets down her lipstick, and turns to her friend.

“I tell him.”

Regan’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to tell him you know?”

“No… not yet. It’s too soon, we don’t have enough evidence. I’m going to tell him I know he’s in love with me, then once he’s secure in our relationship... we’ll see where it goes.”

She stands up, assessing herself in the mirror. She chose her outfit carefully; short red dress with black roses and black mesh collar, black rose bracelet to match her earrings, snug faux leather jacket, and black stiletto ankle booties with a very skinny heel, the zipper on the outside gold, not silver. She fluffs her wavy hair and turns towards the door. She looks back one more time, holding onto the doorway.

“Wish me luck.”

Leo enters the kitchen, seeing Isabella already there, leaning against the counter seductively. She’s wearing an outfit and jewelry this late at night that makes Leo wonder if she’s going to an emo tea party. He puts the takeout in the microwave. She’s still staring at him.

“Uh… hey.”

She lets out a dainty giggle, looking him up and down.

“... Hi.”

At a loss for words, and really wanting the awkward silence to be over, he continues, “Did you need something?”

“What I need,” she walks closer to him, tracing her finger over his collar, “is you.”

What the fuck?

His brain seems to stall for a moment, and she uses this opportunity to continue.

“I know why you’re here. I know that you’re only using them to get closer to me. I know-”

“Woah-”

“That you’re in love with me.”

Okay, double what the fuck.

She takes his stunned silence as shyness, and steps closer, putting her arms around his shoulders.

“You don’t need to play so coy, I-”

This time she’s the one that gets cut off. He grabs her arms and gently steps away, trying to make it abundantly clear that he’s not into this.

“Woah, okay, slow down. First of all, you’re 17 and I’m turning 20 in a couple months, so that’s a hard no. Second, I don’t know where you got this idea, but I am not dating them to get closer to you. We’ve known each other since we were like, 15, and have been through everything together. I’ve only known you for a couple months. I love them. Probably more than I’ve loved anything ever. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

He doesn’t want to be mean, he really doesn’t, but he can tell from the look on her face that she still thinks this is all part of some game.

“So why don’t I ever see you eat? Why are you so smart, and always up at night? I know what you are.”

He has to physically hold back a laugh. He takes a step back, and places his hands on the counter.

“Isabella, I have adhd. And I’m literally an engineering student. Why wouldn’t I be smart and have a shitty sleep schedule?”

She starts to protest, and he pulls out the reheated take out from the microwave.

“And for the record, I do eat.”

Exiting the kitchen quickly and retreating back to your room, he hands you your food.

“I got the game set up!” you say excitedly.

“Nice!”

You take one look at his face and can tell something happened. He sees this, and continues.

“I just had a very… interesting interaction with Isabella,” before he finishes the sentence, your head is already in your hands. You let out a groan.

“What did she do?” you mutter from behind your hands.

He pulls you into his lap, rubbing your back.

“I’m not totally sure,” you laugh, “but I think she thinks I’m secretly in love with her…” you’re both laughing before he can even finish the sentence.

“No…” you laugh, “no fucking way…”

“Believe me, I put an end to that as soon as it started.”

“Oh, I do.”

He runs his hand over your back, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“You know,” he continues, “I think getting our own place has definitely moved up the priority list.”

You couldn’t agree more.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 3

So I picked option 2 cause I just had more ideas around it. I could probably still do 1 and 3 sometime but this is the direction we're going now. Y/n gets a call from her horrible grandmother who is expecting a visit.

Trigger warning: discussions of emotional and mental abuse, gaslighting

That night at his dining table was the start of something wonderful. You made a point to apply a bit of perfume to your neck before you left your apartment. Your three slightly judgmental but overall supportive roommates even donated a few drops of their own fragrances from time to time. 

You didn’t like the sound of the sentence “Hannibal is my boyfriend”. It just didn’t hit your ear right. ‘Boyfriend’ was too childish of a title for him. By extension, he found something very diminutive about referring to you as his girlfriend. You were, of course, a grown woman. He remedied this right away, resigning to call you his ‘darling’. You, however, had to use ‘partner’ as a placeholder until a more suitable pet name presented itself. Although the titles were never stated outright, after a while, you knew it was more than just a passionate affair. Hannibal (and you were calling him Hannibal, now) saw potential in you. He nurtured you and had been since day one. 

Finally, things were starting to go your way. You were in classes you loved, had wonderful, supportive friends and a fulfilling relationship. It took over twenty years, but better late than never. 

But, if there was one thing you learned from your short stint as a student of physics, it was that what goes up must come down. Your long-awaited bliss was about to be tested by an equal and opposite force bearing the name “Beatrice [L/N]” on the caller ID. 

Not only did she call, but she called three times in the middle of your meal. And that was followed by multiple texts, several of which containing words like “emergency” in all caps. You were just trying to enjoy another one of Hannibal’s culinary works of art, but the old bitch was persistent. 

You apologetically excused yourself from the table and retreated to the office with your phone. 

Grandma, you had better be on your fucking deathbed. You thought to yourself before sliding the green answer icon across the screen.

“[F/N]!” Came her shrill voice. “You finally answered. I was beginning to worry.” 

“What do you want, grandma?” You groan. 

“I wanted to ask you what you were wearing to Anna’s wedding next weekend.” She explained, calmly as ever. “The color scheme is seafoam and coral and she wants to make sure everyone adheres to it for pictures.” 

You covered the speaker with your hand and pulled your phone away from your ear so she couldn’t hear you bite back a scream. It physically pained you to return the phone to your ear. “Yeah, I RSVPed no to Anna’s wedding.”

“[F/N],” Your grandmother said in that scolding tone you knew all too well. “Your cousin expects you to be there. I expect you to be there. I invested so much money into this wedding, I will take it as a personal affront if you don’t attend.” 

You take everything as a personal affront. You thought.  

“It doesn’t matter, I already said no. She’s not going to have a chair or food for me.” You explained, hoping that you found some way out of this conversation. 

“No, she will.” Your grandma corrected. “I won’t have any child of mine absent from another’s wedding. I put in all the work to pull this event together.” 

For a moment, you almost felt bad for Anna. Having to endure your grandmother’s micromanaging was a circle of hell even Dante refused to tread.

"Of course, heaven forbid someone in your life show an ounce of autonomy." You finally snapped.

"I don't know why you're acting so rude, but it stops now." Grandma ordered. "I raised you as my own daughter. You should be more grateful for the luxuries I can extend to you. I didn't have to take you in, you know..."

It pained you to stay quiet when all you wanted to say was "I wish you hadn't".

"Your emotional manipulation isn't going to work on me anymore." You informed her.

“So, naturally, I’ve seen to it that you are expected." She continued her own conversation without even acknowledging yours. "You and a plus one, of course.”

You hadn’t even considered the possibility of attending the wedding with Hannibal. The two points never once intersected. And they never would. You vowed that Hannibal would never meet your grandmother or cousins. At that moment, that was the hill you were willing to die on. 

“If I come at all, I’m coming alone.” You snap. “You can punish me all you want but I am not letting you get him involved.” 

“Him?” Your grandma repeated. “So there is someone?” 

“Someone you are keeping me from.” You said, thoroughly frustrated and now panicked at the idea that your grandmother knew Hannibal existed. “Goodbye.” 

You didn't want to rejoin Hannibal in such a sour mood, but you didn't want to keep him waiting either. You returned even more apologetically than you left and took your seat.

"Everything alright, love?" He asked. You could tell he was raring to psychoanalyze you.

You shook your head. "It was my grandma."

"I could tell that much." He admitted, beginning to cut into his steak. "What with all the frustration you're trying so desperately to hide. What did she want?"

"She called to tell me she expects me at my cousin's wedding next Saturday." You rolled your eyes. "I'd already declined the invitation, but she didn't like that, apparently."

"Which cousin is this?" He probed. "The one that works as an engineer for Halliburton?

"No, that's Theresa." You shook your head. "And she works for Halliburton, but she's not an engineer. She's a PR executive."

"Right." Hannibal nodded, taking a bite of steak between his teeth. "She took after your grandmother and turned gaslighting into a career."

You smiled a bit. "Right."

"So, it's Anna, then?" He concluded. "You haven't told me much about her. Perhaps she is the benign tumor of the family?"

"More or less." You shrugged. "She works at a publishing agency. Only got the job because her boyfriend's uncle's the CFO. She didn't even make it to the interview. It was pure nepotism."

"And now she's marrying the boyfriend, I presume?"

"Yeah." You felt a grin cross your face thinking about what you were going to say next. "She wasn't even dating him at the time. She was dating someone else and cheating on him with the guy she's marrying now."

Hannibal grinned. "You like knowing this? Having information that could potentially ruin her life?"

You knew there was no use in lying. The look on your face said it all. "Absolutely I do. When you're the black sheep of the family, you've gotta take power where you can get it. Mine just so happens to be potential blackmail."

"I'm quite delighted to be privy to this side of you, love." He smiled. "We're a bit vindictive, now are we?"

"Are you kidding?" You snicker. "These are the girls that psychologically tormented me growing up. Of course I'm vindictive."

"So about this wedding." He didn't look up from his plate. "Do they expect you to bring a date?"

"They do." You nod, your eyes wandering off. "But I can't let them meet you. They're just so unspeakably rude all the time."

For some reason, you felt that this didn't deter him. Perhaps it even compelled him a little. "Oh?"

"They take this really strange pride in making scenes everywhere they go." You explained. "They've already ruined so much of my life. I can't even give them the opportunity to ruin this too."

"Darling," Hannibal leaned in. "Is there a part of you that wants to attend this event?"

You held your tongue before you said anything you both know to be untrue. "...maybe a small part."

"That small part of you that wants power. That wants justice." He nodded. "Indulge it for a moment. What does this wedding look like to you?"

Trying to keep up the illusion that you hadn't thought of this before, you paused for a moment. "...we would show up--you and I--and I'd be wearing a stunning gown that doesn't fit the stupid color scheme at all. And there's just an unspoken knowledge that I could absolutely ruin Anna's entire day. Anna and Theresa and Grandma are all being nice to me because if I so much as mention the name of that boyfriend she cheated on, I'd ruin her life and possibly her career. So finally I hold all the cards."

Hannibal looked proud. He took a sip of his wine. "You want to be powerful, but with just enough restraint so they know you're the bigger person."

"Exactly." You agreed.

"Perhaps my fondness for you is clouding my professional judgment, darling." He put his wine glass down. "The thought of you in an evening gown, commanding attention and reverence... that's just something I have to see."

"...something you have to see?" You met eyes with him, realizing you were on the same page.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket again. This time, you didn't feel the need to step out.

"Hey [F/N], care to explain why my sister is crying?" Theresa snapped through the receiver.

"Is someone cutting onions nearby?" You offered. "That usually makes me tear up."

"Fucking hell, for once in your meaningless life can you care about someone other than yourself?!" Theresa yelled. "Grandma told us you're not coming to the wedding."

You looked back at Hannibal, who gave you a nod. "Actually, I am. We are."

[thestarsoutofyourwindow]

To Survive this Pain, Part 1 - 11th Doctor x Reader

A/n: I'm not dead, I promise! I've just been struggling to finish off fics. If this seems slightly rushed it's because I just needed to finish something. It's exam season (it's extra-long now due to a certain virus), but they're over in a few weeks. I've been trying to stretch into writing for different Doctors, and in my new formats, but good old Eleven is easiest to write. Inbox is still open :)

Word Count: 2596

Summary: After the "death" of Amy and Rory, the Doctor is devastated. After deciding to isolate himself on a cloud, he leaves you with the Paternoster Gang till Strax informs you the Doctor wants to see you.

Warnings: Angst, Cold Doctor, Doctor is slightly ooc due to guilt, mild self-inflicted Injury, Bouts of Rage.

I should try to post part two as soon as possible.

This is my first ever Full Story (GIF isn't mine).

Your shoes splashed through puddles on the cobblestone road, on your way down to the park of which you knew he would be.

You hadn't heard from him in a short while now, but Jenny and Vastra frequently advising you to pay him a visit had been getting to you. That's why, when Strax brought you the news that the Doctor wanted to see you, you leapt at the opportunity.

You were worried, you'll admit. It was clear as day that losing Amy and Rory had him tearing himself to pieces. It was only a matter of time before he sent you off, too. Before he abandoned you.

Weaving around the quiet Victorian streets, the sun still yet to grace the sky, you had arrived at the park. Looking around the odd trees that decorated the perimeter, you picked out the tree that you knew had the elusive ladder directly above it. You stepped over the beds of wilting flowers that lined the pathways into the overgrown grass.

After completing the feat of reaching the ladders, consisting of either jumping or using your umbrella handle, you had successfully pulled the ladder down far enough to climb onto.

Making your way up the ice-cold rungs, you take a moment to consider why the Doctor called for you in the first place.

It made little sense to you. After all, the Doctor had been avoiding you for the better part of two months now; what had changed?

The Doctor planning on taking you home became all the more likely in your mind as you began to climb the spiral staircase, shivering as the late-autumn air nipped at your skin. Winter was slowly breaking through the remaining life.

If you weren't so hung up on adjusting to the less-than-ideal state of Victorian England, you would've had more time to worry about the Doctor. However, he was so hung up with his own issues, and you with yours, that he only crossed your mind when you were settling down for the night.

Of course, it hurt that you too. Never seeing Amy and Rory again. You did your best to hold onto the fact that they lived a happy life together.

A life that you knew could never have. You wish you could say goodbye to them, but you chose to carry the loss with you.

You were exhausted, it was safe to say. Spending your days helping out the Paternoster Gang with new cases that come in was certainly frustrating, especially when you had to avoid so much. Milk, green dyes, dodgy stairs, aliens and gas leaks. Nothing was safe in Victorian times.

Not that you didn't enjoy the company, mind you. Jenny always provided conversation, and paired with Vastra, there were plenty of investigations to be had. You just missed them all, sometimes.

The Doctor had become such a vital figure in your life that it didn't seem right for him to not be there. When you had both lost Donna, you were there for each other, and even then, he was a wreck. You had spent those first two months together, and you had never felt closer to someone before. At first, you couldn't admit it to yourself, but after six years, you knew that was when you started falling for him.

There was so much you didn't understand about him, yet so much he had begun to explain. You had seen and done so much together, places that surprised and scared the both of you. In distant worlds and ancient times, there lay so many memories that you had forgotten. Just another thing consumed by time.

A simple flip through your diaries would confirm that through all that, you admired him: mattering not which of his faces. You had accepted from the start that he was an unobtainable desire, no matter how you looked at it.

He was old, alien and a danger-magnet. Many considered the Doctor to be a God.

It upset you to know that the Doctor could never love you, not in the way you love him. Not in the way that he had shown you what love could be, what it should be. But that was what you had to expect from the Doctor.

You assumed that consistently losing those he loved must hurt immensely. You also imagine losing someone he could spend the rest of his lives with would leave another unfixable hole in his heart.

So it made sense to you that the Doctor would never willingly fall for a human. Your short life-spans and weak bodies meant that so much as a single bullet could rob you of your life.

The thought of what a state he must've been in at that very moment was disturbing, to say the least. You had seen the Doctor angry before, and it was not an easy sight.

His heart held so much pain, so much guilt.

After what felt like a good three minutes, you stepped off the staircase. Your shoes now emerged in a cloud, which could somehow keep you from plummeting into the streets below. You felt surprisingly light, almost like you were standing in a pit of feathers, yet some odd force kept you from losing your balance. Plucking your key out of your pocket, you press your hand against the door of the TARDIS. You unlock the door, pulling the key from the lock and stepping into the Console room.

You called out for him. After listening for a moment, you concluded that the Doctor must've been elsewhere.

The TARDIS was a glum sight. Most of the orange lights were dimmed: if functioning at all. A few even had fist-holes in them. There were what looked like hundreds of books cluttering the console, all of varying topics: The Time War, Time Lord Psychology, the History of the Universe, Earth History, Greatest War Losses. Some had bookmarks; others he had clearly tabbed.

Paper littered the glass flooring, each scribbled in several handwritings. They all clearly varied in ages and sizes, some a muddy brown, others a vivid white. Quite a lot were in small clusters of pages, as though they were ripped from a book. You picked up one of the sheets to inspect closer, and your heart nearly broke.

Each page had a sort of date in the corner, which you quickly realised must've been an approximation of the Doctor's age at the time. They were diary entries, ripped out and thrown in what you assumed to be a fit of rage.

The Doctors' tweed jacket had slipped off the console and onto the floor. The contents of his pockets spilt out onto the floor.

You leant to pick it up, grimacing at just how much he was carrying around. Throwing the jacket over the railing, you avoided stepping on any more pieces of paper.

"Tidy some of this, will you?" You addressed the TARDIS, a hand on the edge of the controls, "I'll go talk to him, where is he?" The TARDIS clicked and hummed in response, showing you a blueprint on the monitor, "The Library? Okay then."

Darting out of the Console Room, you attempt to discover the library as soon as possible. You vaguely remembered the three places the library is most likely to crop up. You went from there. Fortunately for you, you didn't have to go far before the library appeared.

You had always felt as though the library was too empty. Four stories of shelves filled with books, all visible from the ground floor, the rows of shelves created a sort of maze of titles and colours. The Doctor must've owned every single book in the galaxy, judging by the sheer size. Not to mention the several dozen or so empty seats. The library could easily hold thousands of people at once, yet there is rarely ever so much as a whisper.

You had a fair clue as to why the Doctor would be hiding away in there.

There the Doctor was, turned away from the door, in an intricately decorated armchair. You could just about make out the top of his head. You loomed behind him awkwardly, unsure or not if he was aware of your presence.

"Doctor?" You faltered. His head perked up slightly, and the Doctor strained out a hum. He stood up, his arms tiredly hanging at his sides after he stretched. It checked out with your fit of rage theory. The Doctor walked up to you, and you only then noticed how fraught he was.

His expression was tired, eyes sunken and lips pressed into a thin line. His shirt was unkempt: the sleeves were torn slightly. It also appeared burnt or covered in dust. His hands were covered in dust too.

However, you noticed that his right hand had quite a few cuts and gashes, which all seeped out orange-tinted blood.

His greenish-brown eyes search yours for a moment as a tear rolls down his cheek. He inhales deeply, nodding to himself.

"Look, I..." The Doctor paused, again glancing over into your eyes, "I'm sorry- I can't, I can't do this," He took in a trembling gasp for air, "I don't want to, but I can't keep doing this. I'm sick of it. I can't keep losing people. I'm so sick of saving the universe." Unsure of what to you, you reach a hand out to the Doctors. He puts a hand on top of yours, keeping the other, bloodier fist at his side. You brush your thumb over his knuckles, his hand hot against yours. The Doctor continues, "Everyone, everyone who travels with me leaves, or dies, and I'm always alone again. Alone and in pain. I can't keep doing this..."

Smiling sadly, you nod, "I understand," You looked back up at the Doctor, "If you called me here to convince me to go home-"

"Take you home?" The Doctor's voice cracked, "I could never. That'd be just as bad as losing you. I need you."

Oh, the Doctor have his way of making you feel important at the worst moments. Your insides bubbled giddily, but you refused to show it. Instead, you ignored it to the best of your ability; what he was saying was important.

Your attention had fallen back down to his hand, and it looked considerably worse than you initially thought. Pieces of glass dug into his knuckles, the skin seeming gnarled by the force of the oncoming storm, "Doctor, your hand,"

"It's fine." The Doctor seethed, staring numbly at you, "I'm not human, it's not going to kill me."

You wanted to protest. However, given the Doctor's already fragile temperament, you weren't going to push it. Instead, after an instant of silence, you asked a simple question, "How have you been, then?"

The Doctor blinked, giving an answer careful thought. He had an earnest grimace as he finally spoke, "Furious."

"I can see, that" You hum, putting equal thought into how you should approach your response, "What do you think you're going to do, now?"

"Stay here. I'm not getting involved anymore." The Doctor spat, pulling his hand away from yours, turning to sit down, "I don't want to care."

"That's fair enough." You reassure. You didn't like the sound of the Doctor retiring too much, but you respected his choice. If he didn't want to save the world, he doesn't have to. You hoped that, in his chosen conditions, he would heal.

You vowed to yourself at that moment that you'd do everything you could to help him. Starting with his physical injuries.

You heard the armchair squeak softly as the Doctor flopped back against it, picking up a book from the coffee table and beginning to read. You headed back over to the door and grabbed the small medkit from the bracket on the wall. You paced back to the Doctor, pulling a pouffe from a few feet away to sit on. The Doctor glared daggers at you, exhaling sharply and holding his arm out in your general direction. You thanked him meekly, beginning to remove the sharp, reinforced glass shards from his knuckles.

If you were new to travelling with the Doctor, you thought that seeing this might hurt you more. However, six years of travelling was more than enough for the two of you to be used to this sort of treatment. He never seemed to care much about his physical health, more about yours. That often ended up in you worrying about the Doctor, not that you minded. You supposed it worked out, as you both fussed over each other. If the Doctor's previous face saw how he was acting, you were sure he'd have a fit. Not that he mattered, as he was still a part of the man in front of you.

You could tell by the downtrodden way he pretended to read his book, staring a hole through it, that something was bothering him.

"Are you scared of me?" The Doctor halted, voice brittle. He had taken note of how delicate you were and had drawn it up to a fear that the Doctor would lash out at you.

"No," You shushed, focusing on removing the glass from his hands.

"You don't sound sure,"

"I am." You reassured bluntly, "I'm just being careful. I don't want to hurt you more."

"I'm not hurt! You don't need to fuss over me,"

You lifted your eyebrows slightly, "There's nothing wrong with feeling, Doctor. As you said yourself, feelings enhance life." The Doctor exhaled petulantly, eyes back on his book. "But not even you can be in pain forever."

"What is my alternative?" The Doctor strangled out, "I forget? I do something selfish?"

You grimace as you remove the last small shard from his pinky. You take out a clean cloth and some water, dampening the rag as you speak, "You're forced to survive this pain, this guilt, but you will grow from it. You make mistakes so that you learn from them."

You gently clear the blood from his hands and start to apply mild pressure to the deeper wounds. The two of you continued in silence, the Doctor only occasionally removing his hand to turn the page.

He was such a different person to the goofball front you were used to. He was melancholic. However, you would see a small amount of your Doctor bubbling to the surface. He would occasionally chuckle at the book he was reading or draw circles on your palm as you held his hand still. It provided you with enough comfort to know that you weren't wasting your time.

You finished up your last-minute medical care with a bandage around his hand. You closed the medkit.

"Alright, I'm just going to go restock this, then I'll go tidy up the paper in the console room,"

"Oh- right that... Must've been a mess. I'm sorry,"

"It's okay." You smiled pleasantly, "Come find me if you need me, okay? I won't be far,"

The Doctor caught your hand in his, just as you were about to leave, he tugged at your arm. You leant down, and the Doctor pressed a short kiss to your cheek. You countered with a kiss of your own on the middle of his forehead. Just like you used to, back with his previous incarnation.

As you wandered off, you were oblivious as to what that gesture meant. Was it a thank you? Another apology? Was it even platonic?

From behind you, you swore that he said something you thought you'd never hear the Doctor say.

[zarathelonewolf]

OK OK OK IT'S HAPPENINGGGGG

Everybody stAY CALM!

BNHA CHAPTER 326 PREVIEW

Let's preface this by saying that I absolutely didn't expect... like... Stain becoming some sort of therapist, or even ensuing his wake up call like this. But I am very pleased with it.

Now... I don't agree with Stain, at all. His ideology may seem interestingly righteous in the beginning, but the more you dive into it, the more evident it becomes that it holds Heroes to a standard that is excessive... It's not just the fact he's killing people; Uraraka's talk has, by now, cemented a fact that Stain's ideology was ignoring: Heroes are human, and while they may have some flaws, not all of them are the epitome of professionality or prudence, and I do agree some of them see their work as too much of a competition... they still do their best on a daily basis to save people. Stain's ideology also doesn't see Heroes as capable of changing modus operandi when faced with the fact that their methods may not be the best; he doesn't give them the chance to overcome their flaws, because he considers their flaws the end of the line.

I did like that Stain helped All Might in this case. Really liked it. I was waiting for an interaction between the two of them foreverrrr.

And now, I can finally see it unfold.

From what I understand from the spoilers,it kind of went like this...

All Might was approaching his statue, which still held the sign "I am not here" around its neck, and reminds himself of what he talked about with Aizawa before the war. Aizawa clearly explained that, while Toshinori couldn't be an active Hero anymore, he was already helping people by being alive and well.

All Might, now, thinks that he's being just a liability... He probably feels like the worse mentor, because he wasn't able to help his hurting disciple.

But, Stain doesn't agree, because he appears and tells him that those words and thought are insulting to the memory of All Might.

Their interaction starts with All Might informing Stain of his failed projects to talk to him before the war, in Tartarus, and shows Stain that his thin form is, in fact, all that is left of All Might and belongs to the same person.

Stain... doesn't like this, either, and thinks Toshinori in his thin form is an impostor.

All Might keeps reasoning that maybe he had always been lying, so that he could create an image to use in order to bring peace in a dark age,for he couldn't stand the injustices around him. Staring at the desolate, destroyed state of things in the war's aftermath, he says that the destruction is all that came out from his efforts.

He says that he put his life on the line, but that he still couldn't adequately support Midoriya nor talk to him at UA.

Stain jumps ahead, in All Might's direction... but doesn't strike him. He pulls him away from the front of the statue, and they both hide as a woman approaches the statue and Stain invites All Might to watch.

This... is one of my favorite moments. Really, it is.

The woman starts cleaning the statue, after taking the sign off of its neck...the same civilian All Might had saved during his last clash with AFO.

Stain then becomes, even if just for a moment, All Might's therapist/motivator: he reasons that the destruction isn't the end at all, that things can change. He also says that the only version of All Might he can accept, the true All Might, was defined by his smile and courage, and that not even the strongest winds have blown away the embers he left, because a group of people was still cultivating them and keeping them ablaze.

As All Might cries, Stain tells him that he really doesn't recognize All Might in who he sees now, but if he still is the admirable hero, than he should end Stain and use the information he had gathered from Tartarus. So he throws the former Symbol of Peace a knife with the info, and tells him that all of this is for the sake of a better society.

All Might cries... and the lady, while watching the sky, concludes that the rain has finally stopped.

...

...

This chapter... I already love it, just from the spoilers. I like how the characters approached each other, the dialogue, the scene with the girl... Stunning, really.

The title seems to be a question: who are you?

Who do you guys think is the receiving end of this question?

I think it's All Might... It's definitely Toshinori.

He's being asked this by Stain, and by his subconscious too.

And while his subconscious keeps torturing itself with thoughts of not being enough, his efforts going to waste, his achievements and the symbol he poses being all a lie, destruction being all that's left... Stain, and another part of his mind tell him that despite everything, his efforts are still there: he's clearly still a hero to the people, like the woman's behavior is showing; there are still people willing to uphold is values and that see him as an inspiration. The destruction WILL end, somehow, because the people are working for peace to finally prevail.

The rain has finally stopped: this phrase is super important. It doesn't really make the situation less dangerous, because who knows what AFO is planning or how the final showdown may go. It does, however, mean that the mood, the resolve of the Heroes, is changing. It's getting better. They're finally seeing the sun. This means that there is finally hope. These last chapters where all building up to this: the end of the rain, of the despair...

After a hurricane comes a rainbow... but for now we have the end of the rain and the reappearance of the sun.

The real hurricane will come with the final battle... After which, a new society could emerge. A new, better society. Like Stain wanted, as misguided as he may have been. Like All Might has always wanted, as disillusioned as he has been as of late.

So, let's look forward to the end. The final battle, we all feel it, is every day nearer... But this time, the sun is on our side.

A stronger, renewed resolve and hope, are on our side.

We'll be taking it all back, people!

Like Midoriya said... We'll take it all back,and AFO will be defeated.

EDIT: Thank you for all the likes and the reblogs, guys! I really hope I can bring other interesting reviews and opinions to the fandom, though as always you are free to disagree with them. See ya in the next BNHA manga chapter!

[wangshuus]

delicacy | diluc ragnvindr

pairing: yan!diluc ragnvindr/gn!reader

genre: psychological

cw: unhealthy relationship, mentions of forced marriage, ooc diluc (lol)

wc: 2.6k

summary: to diluc, you are a delicacy that he wishes to savour.

note: i’m sorry in advance my dear readers this is absolute dog water ajfhaiufhfui. this was just an experiment since i don’t think i’ve written a decent yandere ever and this kinda proves it but it’s ok i’ll get there one day. just take my ooc diluc. yes, i know i screwed up real bad on this one but let's just say i loosened a few screw for the sake of the plot,,,yeah,,,i’ll probably need to proof read this again too but its ok ahhhhh.

“It’s useless to keep tugging at those binds. You know they won’t come off unless I take them off myself. Now, be good and sit still.” You heard a familiar voice. 

It was once a voice that you were delighted to hear but now the very mention of the owner sent a wave of striking cold upon your body, ironic considering who it was. You had no idea where you were, what day it was, or what time it was. You were completely clueless, being stuck in a dark room with nothing but a bed in which you’ve been bound by the headboard. The room was concerningly chilly, the air in the room being crisp, cold and suffocating. The figure in the room made their way to the edge of the bed next to sit next to you. You felt a gloved hand place itself upon your cheek. It was so warm you almost wanted to lean into it but you refused to find comfort in the touch of your detainer.

You were but a simple bartender, loyal to working at the famous Angel’s Share in Mondstadt. You previously resided in Springvale with your parents but moved to the city due to your job. Your family lived a happy little life, not drowning in riches but being comfortable enough to sustain a plausible living. In your head, you were so painfully boring; so here lies the question, how exactly did you get into this situation? Not even you knew the answer but one thing that you could make sense of in the whole ordeal was that the main that stood in front of you was mad.

Diluc Ragnvindr has many titles ranging from the renowned owner of the Dawn Winery to one of Mondstadt’s most esteemed bachelors. He claimed such a high and mighty reputation that no one would’ve guessed the devious intents hidden in the back of his head. Yes, you were a mere bartender that worked under him at his own tavern but ever since you were hired, he felt something stirring up within him. Now you see, Diluc wasn’t someone that you would find chasing after anyone in fact, he’s never chased after anyone at all until he met you. He was confused at first why he started feeling the way that he did when you were around, unfamiliar emotions began to bubble inside of him.

You were just so easy to talk to, so charming, so comforting, a breath of fresh air to him, truly. At first, he assumed it would be nothing but a short lived infatuation, expecting for his feeling to dissipate like a dying flame in a matter of time but this flame only burned bigger, brighter, and belligerent as the days passed. Diluc wasn’t exactly sure how his feelings came to be. Perhaps it was due to the loss, betrayal and tragedy that stained his past. Maybe it was his longing to be loved again, to hold someone close and never let go, or to have someone hold him and allow him to bask in the feeling of being lovingly embraced-- which was a feeling that became painfully foreign to him.

It had been so long since he found comfort in anything or anyone, becoming accustomed to being isolated, building up walls to keep everyone out and away. He had no one left to care for and presumably no one left to care for him, making the pyro wielder take on such an aloof personality. After his whole ordeal, he was never truly the same, so to see him look genuinely pleased by someone was such a shock to the public eye. Of course, you had come to enjoy Diluc’s presence as he stopped by the tavern fairly often to check up on the flow of business and you had the chance to talk to him during his visits. You had heard from others that the young man was awfully reserved and indifferent towards any subject matter but he was seemingly interested in any conversation between the two of you, even partaking in the act of idle-chit chat as a means to continue talking to you. Anything for you.

He was greatly enamoured by you; everything about you. He’s taken every second he could to observe you and your nature, falling in love with the little things about you from the way you brightened up the room with your cheerful demeanour, the way you gracefully made your way across the tavern during, the way your eyes twinkled when you were talking about him about something you loved--archons the way he wished for you to only look at him with those eyes full of an enthusiastic sparkle. He wanted that; and he wanted it all for himself. Once he realized this was the case, he went through a spiralling hole of madness. He found himself being obsessive with looking out for you, going above and beyond by following you in the shadows every chance he could get, his self control on his possessiveness running as thin as a strand of hair. 

Diluc was scary to say the least. His ability to deceive people into thinking he was still the reserved yet distinguished gentleman while he was falling into a pit of insanity was nothing short of terrifying. He remained unsuspecting and planned to keep it that way, deeming himself capable of being able to resist his maniacal urges. All until one conversation between the two. You had mentioned that your family had begun to run into a few financial problems, becoming entangled in a circle of debt. You had concluded that though you loved what you were doing, it couldn’t have been enough to support your situation so you had conversed with Diluc about going to Liyue to find extra work. All you knew was that there was a high chance you couldn’t stay grounded at the tavern forever, even rejecting Diluc’s offer of a raise, deeming that you didn’t deserve it and did not wish to trouble him. You saw this as a good opportunity to explore beyond the land of the wind that you had ironically been grounded at your entire life. 

Oh no no no, this couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t allow it to happen. And that’s when he snapped. 

Diluc’s mind worked quickly as he devised a dubious plan to keep you grounded. He knew what you were like; he knew you would be stubborn and go. He saw that shine of determination in your eyes when you mentioned your plans of fleeing Mondstadt, the same shine that he wanted to capture and keep for himself and oh boy, he was gonna have it. The next time you saw him, he had personally invited you to a party that he said he was hosting. You found it quite surprising since it was a rarity for him to ever host a party considering his nature but you accepted nonetheless. You trusted Diluc enough and besides, who would deny an invitation from someone like him. Little did you know, this was quite possibly one of the worst decisions you’ve made in your entire life.

“Dear, you’re spacing out again.” He spoke, a foreign tone that sounded so sickly sweet to a point where you wanted to hurl. 

“Please don’t address me as such. You’re twisted for doing this. What do you even want from me? Huh? I can’t offer you anything so this is nothing but a waste of time.” You spat at him, harshly pulling your cheek away from his grasp. 

“Your presence alone is enough to satisfy me. Also, I’d appreciate it if you stopped acting disobedient before I really lose my patience. I’ve been so patient with you, do you know that? I’ve been waiting for ages to have you all to myself like this but…” He paused for a moment.

“I was far too nice and considerate of your freedom. To think I’d let you leave just like that is absurd. That’s exactly why you’re here. I’d like to apologize in advance for tricking you into thinking there was an actual party, especially since you got all dressed up for me tonight but I believe this is quite the positive thing because now I’m the only one that gets to see you like this” He said as he gently lifted up a piece of fabric from your clothing.

“You wore the clothing I had custom made for you. I knew you would look ravishing in it. You’re my pretty little doll, aren’t you dear?” He said as he brought a piece up to his lips as they gently graced the smooth satin of your outfit. 

A strange package had made its way to your doorstep days before this treacherous evening. When opening it up, it was revealed to be a black and red outfit made of what felt like to be the finest fabrics and silk you’ve ever seen. The first time you tried it on, you felt ecstatic with being gifted to you, blushing to yourself over the fact that Diluc had gone out of his way to get you something this stunning. Now, you wanted nothing more than to rip the thing off your body and run away from the damned place you were held captive but you knew it was no use at this point. Your body shivered at the coldness of the room as it felt like the sheer cold was steadily increasing.

“You’re shivering. You’re cold aren’t you?” Diluc said, having the audacity to chuckle at your pathetic state. You stayed quiet, not wanting to admit or give into anything.

“No response? Oh well, it’ll only be a matter of time until the possibility of freezing to death becomes exceptionally high. I’d rather not have that happen so I’ll do you a favour since you happen to be a little shy isn’t that right? You don’t need to be shy with me. Come here.” He says as he draws closer to you. Your chains rattled while you attempted to put as much distance as you could between you two but it was no use. He swiftly wrapped his arms around you, one hand wrapped around your waist, the other at the back of your head, pulling you into the crook of his neck. Your hands pushed against his chest in a poor attempt to put as much distance between you and him but in the end, you couldn't bring yourself to. The coldness of the room significantly weakened you although it ceased when he held you, his body warmth being enough for him and yourself as well. You cursed the pyro wielder and his antics. He knew that you’d be freezing, seeing this as the perfect opportunity to get closer to you. Your arms fell back on to you sides 

“There you go, all relaxed now. See, nice and warm.” He cooed while stroking the back of your head lovingly. Although you were physically warm now, you still felt a shiver run down your spine at the touch of the pyro user.

“You’re sensitive to touch, how cute.” He stated before pulling away to look you in the eyes, the edges of his lips slightly upturned.

“On another note, I have some news to share with you.” He spoke out. Your eyebrows furrowed at the mention of more news, thinking there is no possible way that anything could get any worse; unfortunately, you were dead wrong.

“You see, I had the chance to speak with your parents the other day in regards to your financial situation. I explained to them that I was more than willing to help them but they became quite stubborn after I introduced my offer. I see where you get your stubbornness from now.” He sighed.

Your eyes widened, fear, anger and concern mixing in your (e/c) orbs. 

“Diluc, I swear to the archons what did you--.” He brought a finger up to your lips to hush you from your growing concern. 

“Hush now, there’s no need to get riled up, I’m not finished. Now quiet down and listen to me.” He stated.

“It was quite a simple offer I gave them, really. I would be a financial aid all in exchange for your hand in marriage. They started to get all defensive, claiming that they’d never marry off their child. They were oh so protective over you, but they could never come close to comparing to me.”

Dread and horror filled your eyes as you were rendered speechless, waves of unpleasant emotions washing over you like a tidal wave. 

“You see, it definitely took a lot of work to get where we are now, but you need not to worry, dear. They will not be of any concern to us anymore.” He said as a smile graced his features. You would’ve considered him to be handsome in the moment but the smile he held was so deranged that it was appalling. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, too afraid to even ask what happened to them or what became of them. You knew the situation; you knew the power that Diluc held. He was well aware of his looming power of you and he used it and abused it. It didn’t take very long for your tears to start streaming from your eyes as you began to sob, tears spilling onto your lap. Diluc cupped your face as he brushed away the oncoming tears that continued to overflow. 

“Shhh, don’t cry my dear, this news is excellent. I couldn't even fathom you getting hurt or even leaving me but I don’t have to worry now do I? Because you’re going to be all mine.” He said before forcibly kissing your tear-stained cheeks. 

You felt absolutely disgusting and embarrassed over the lips that graced your skin, having someone as unhinged and deranged as him seeing you in such a vulnerable and helpless state. 

“You know, I’ve had my fair share of people both leave and betray me.They’ve left me alone in this world but none of it matters now that I have you here. You’re the most divine person I’ve come across. So lovely, so warm, and so bright, like the rays of sunlight. I want to bask in your presence and now, I can for however long I’d like. I refuse to lose anyone else, especially not you and now this time, I know I won’t. If your freedom has to be sacrificed in order for you to stay alive, so be it. I’ll choose you the finest white attire for our special day. You’ll be me precious darling for the rest of your days. Doesn’t that sound lovely, dear?” You remained unresponsive.

One of his hands slipped past the fabric of your clothing as his gloved fingertips lightly pressed onto the bare small of your back, earning a yelp from you.

“I said doesn’t that sound lovely? Respond when spoken to. I want to hear your voice.” He said sternly. You managed to mumble out a small yes in return.

“That’s my good little darling.” He spoke before before he pulled you in for a kiss. You refused to return the action and it certainly didn’t go over his head. The hand that rested on the small of your back began to get hotter, feeling as if it was searing your skin, earning a shriek and a cry from you, allowing him to deepen his passion filled kiss, smirking at the way you’ve decided to submit yourself to him while his own lips remained locked with your own.

The land of Mondstadt was said to be the land of freedom and yet here you were, your fate bound and chained by the insanity disguised as love by Diluc Ragnvindr. You were a delicacy to him, and he’d be sure to savour every last bit of you. 

[neon-moon-beam]

As much fun as I’m having with Legends: Arceus, I can’t help but notice past a certain point it feels very small? and I feel like major storylines don’t conclude in a way that’s satisfying, if you can consider them to have concluded at all. I feel like this is really the biggest flaw in an otherwise great game, so I thought I’d post my opinions about it, as well as some speculation about why that might be. Under a cut for spoilers.

Please note I haven’t caught Giratina or Arceus yet. I do know some of what happens but have not seen them for myself to analyze visuals, dialogue, etc.

Also I’m not interested in debating, headcanons, etc. You’re free to disagree with my opinions but I don’t want to argue over things. Please respect this.

When I first started playing, the world seemed pretty big. I tend to take my time with games and try to see everything, even things like alternate dialogue, etc. Every area seemed huge and I was finding more and more places within them I hadn’t been...until I’d been everywhere and got Braviary. There aren’t many points you can fast travel to; usually just two base camps, an arena, and then if there’s a settlement. Things feel bigger with Basculegion and Sneasler, as there’s areas you can’t reach by walking. But then once I got Braviary that was it. And now that I’ve seen pretty much everything I think, and am grinding to complete the Pokedex, it just feels small. Of course Hisui is much bigger than other regions and definitely more open world (think of how small and closed Galar actually is), but besides Braviary, going back to Jubilife to change locations made it feel small and got old fast for me too. I’m hoping in the next Legends title, as well as Gen 9 onwards we can just go anywhere at any time, once certain requirements are met. And at least they did work returning to Jubilife each time into the story (Hisui is still very much wilderness and it’s not easy to just go from one place to another, you need to report what location you’re setting off to each time in case something happens, etc).

As far as storylines go, obviously I want to see Ingo go home, and there are other issues too, but let’s talk about him first.

For all the focus and attention on Ingo’s backstory in PLA, it never concludes. At all. He just goes to the training grounds and starts setting up a battle facility. He wasn’t at the Harmony Festival for some reason, yet it’s never addressed. We can assume Cogita wasn’t there because she’s a recluse and ~mysterious~ and honestly, I think there’s something going on there we’re not being told or really shown and I’d like to know more (I have a few ideas). But just about every other major NPC was there (including Volo) and every warden that isn’t Ingo. The fact that we’re told nothing about how he got to Hisui or if he goes home is bothering everyone who’s a fan of Submas, has come to like him in PLA, or just wants more from this game. His story arc leaves us hanging. He has vague memories, including more regarding his use of train terms and point and call after being rematched, but what of them? Where is this leading us? The lack of conclusion and the fact that Ingo looks so miserable while we know who he actually is but are unable to help him makes his story unsatisfying, and in a way, makes the player feel helpless.

Then there’s the player character’s arc. Dawn/Lucas catches Arceus and then...nothing? Arceus never tells them they can go home when they’re ready, nothing. Which I understand from a game point of view in that they already rolled the credits after the player catches Dialga and Palkia, but we could have gotten another “Thanks for Adventuring!” image of them going home or something so we know it happens, even though we can boot the game right back up and start obliterating Parases with Judgement. Dawn/Lucas’ fate is currently up in the air, and like with Ingo, we know they have people to return to (their mom, Barry, Dawn or Lucas depending on who you’re playing as, Prof. Rowan, their original team…). While we can assume Arceus will put them back since we see them send them back in time at the start of the game, the lack of confirmation is frustrating.

Then the Daybreak mission added in the most recent content update has quite a few plot holes.

We never find out why there are massive mass outbreaks, often of Pokemon that don’t live in the areas the outbreaks happen in (other than they tend to happen in the same spots space-time distortions happen)

Why the massive mass outbreaks happen in rainstorms (or snow in the Alabaster Icelands)

Why Munchlax knows where these happen and why it can inform the player what Pokemon are in the outbreaks if it’s given 5 Aguav berries

How the Aguav berries showed up when they were not found in Hisui previously and can only be obtained by defeating Pokemon in an outbreak

And then the big one; at one point Mai asks you to meet her in a cave and bring her 10 mushroom cakes but won’t say too much as to why. She then takes her time arriving, with the implication that the player has waited all day for her, then asks to be left alone with the cakes and that she’ll inform you later if her plan “worked”. Lian then meets the player, saying Mai is waiting for them in Jubilife. As the player has literally just left Mai AND the cave is within sight of them and Lian, there’s no way they’ve just missed Mai, and no way she could have simply returned to Jubilife as she doesn’t have a way to fast-travel. When talking to Mai in Jubilife, she mentions that Irida also had something happen where she thought Mai asked her to spread some grain, and that a Pokemon may be masquerading as Mai. That, combined with the first outbreak being Zorua and one imitates Munchlax, seems to suggest the Mai who asked for the mushroom cakes and met us in the cave was possibly a Zoroark, with a Zorua being Muchlax. This is never addressed again and the mission ends without any confirmation that this is what happened, or why.

I thought at one point a Zorua had replaced the Munchlax altogether sooner than the mushroom cakes incident. I also thought that perhaps Arceus was acting through the Munchlax given how it just “knew” things and had been taking off in the direction of outbreaks initially (much how the starters took off and alerted Laventon that the player had arrived in Hisui). I even thought that before the end of the mission, I’d have to fight the Zoroark and Zorua that had impersonated them. But nope. Adaman and Irida showed up, concluded that there’s some things we just don’t understand yet, and we all watched the sunrise.

In some ways it feels like this game just doesn’t know how to conclude, which is especially a problem when people have characters they’re invested in, even if it’s just the player character. BDSP was released in such a state that it was literally unfinished (you have to download content the first time you boot it up or else you’ll have placeholders), and as of the time I write this, it’s still very unpolished and begging for a DLC to salvage the postgame. PLA is polished and a great game, but it’s also begging for a DLC. It’s not clear to me personally whether they intended for a DLC and ended up leaving out a lot of end-of-game content they just felt were better suited for one, or if since DLCs are so common now and often have “true endings” included, they saved it for that. The biggest issue I would have is buying the game itself, and then being forced to either buy the ending or play an incomplete game. DLCs aren’t bad, but I hate that it’s becoming more common to buy a game and then have the developers add the finale later with a separate price tag. I’m not saying that’s what’s happening here, but for comparison, SwSh felt completed before the DLCs; those added some postgame stories, new areas, and Pokemon. PLA doesn’t feel complete at all, and even after catching Arceus, Akari/Rei shows up the next day saying there’s more things to do…but right now aside from optional missions left incomplete, optional battle facility things, or hunting for shinies or Alphas (you get a Shiny Charm after catching Arceus), there isn’t. So is that a hint at a DLC being planned, or is it just some dialogue in case you haven’t done literally everything there is to do? Or perhaps…wishful thinking on Akari/Rei’s part that Dawn/Lucas won’t leave?

We may not even get a DLC for Legends: Arceus, either. While the plot holes and storylines that just don’t feel satisfying seem to be pointing to one, ultimately the choice is up to the developers. Gen 9 will likely be released for the holiday season, so probably sometime this November. I hope we get a DLC before then that hopefully gives people peace of mind, or they release the DLC for the holidays. I hope they do not just move into Gen 9 and leave everyone hanging. Another alternative is we find out what happened with Hisui in Gen 9. One of the trailers shows a Hisuian Zoroark. There’s a chance we may be told that Hisuian variants are no longer found in Sinnoh but do exist in other regions, or we might find out through something even as simple as NPC dialogue that Dawn/Lucas somehow turned up with Hisuian variants in the present day (or however many years ago there are between the intro of PLA and Gen 9) and started a breeding program, and then hear something elsewhere about an intact Battle Subway in Unova with Ingo AND Emmet running it. That wouldn’t be as rewarding as seeing them actually go home, but if the developers don’t want to show us or don’t think a DLC is worth it, there isn’t much we can do.

[renegadewangs]

Van Zieks - the Examination, part 2

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I'm outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I've missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly.  -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I'm using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what's said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn't matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

It’s time to take a close look at Episode 3, The Runaway Room!

Episode 3: The Runaway Room.

We're skipping the first two cases, as they have no relevance to Barok van Zieks, and starting off here.

So Ryu is tossed into the deep. The Lord Chief Justice tells him that he’s basically the defendant’s only hope; if he doesn’t at least try to fight in court, McGilded will lose the trial and die for sure. (HAH… Good one, Stronghart.) So Ryu falls for this would-be motivational speech and heads for the courthouse where he finds out why McGilded doesn’t have a defense attorney to begin with; it’s because of the prosecution. No one dares to go up against Lord Barok van Zieks, also known as the Reaper of the Old Bailey, because all who he prosecutes are damned. This should sound familiar to anyone who’s played an Ace Attorney game before. ‘The prosecution has never been defeated before’ is the implication, which would initially lead us to believe Van Zieks is another one of those prodigies. Sure enough, Susato points out he must be very talented, to which McGilded replies that Van Zieks is not talented, rather, he’s cursed. This sets the mood even further. With words like “Reaper” and “curse” being tossed around, we’re sooner reminded of a prosecutor like Simon Blackquill, who was a convicted murderer wielding psychological manipulation techniques. Either way, with the grim atmosphere set, Ryu is ushered into the courtroom before he can ask any more questions.

As a sidenote, McGilded really scored some negative points with this remark:

Feels a bit softened compared to how fan translations tackled that line, but a nasty jab all the same.

So anyway, entering the courtroom we get our first look at Van Zieks and if the foreshadowing in the Defendant Antechamber wasn’t already bad enough, he honors his eerie reputation.

So far, he’s meeting the requirements then. He’s intimidating and as a wealthy white man, he’s perfectly juxtaposed to Ryu, the rookie from another country. Meanwhile, the first micro-aggression of this trial is actually uttered by the judge:

Which also makes narrative sense. Ryu’s more practical goal isn’t to win the prosecution’s trust. Heck, he could get through any trial just fine with Van Zieks’s dislike. No, what he needs is to win over the judge and the members of the jury. For them to also hold prejudice but put that aside in order to side with the truth is another important end-game here. So let’s continue. Van Zieks also has something to say here:

Initially, the remark about Ryu’s eyes might read as a typical racist jab towards someone from the East, but he is in fact referring to the way Ryu’s eyes are ‘swimming’ when he’s nervous, as evidenced by the next lines. “They shroud your fear, your doubt, your trepidation… They run wild, clinging to some phantom notion of courage.” Van Zieks is saying that while Ryu puts up a brave front, his swimming eyes betray just how nervous and unsure of his cause he really is. So really, he’s targeting the fact that Ryu is new to the courts. He did, however, make a point of tossing the word “Nipponese” in there when he didn’t need to, drawing attention to Ryu’s race in a derogatory fashion.

After the jurors are introduced, something else of interest happens. The judge points out that Van Zieks hasn’t been seen in the courtroom in a number of years. The judge had assumed that Van Zieks had renounced his fame, to which he replies with the following:

This is a very telling line. We learn several things. Firstly, Van Zieks had retired, and secondly, he doesn’t seem to think too highly of his title of Reaper. If he did, he would have gloated. To describe his reputation as infamy implies negative associations with this ‘curse’ that McGilded spoke of. Putting these two things together, one might conclude he retired because of this curse. When asked why he’s returned to the courts, he says that he’ll leave that to the judge’s imagination. So there’s hints of a backstory already being tossed in before the trial’s even properly kicked off.

Which it does now. So the opening statement happens as always and witnesses are brought in, but once it’s done Ryu interjects to say that he doesn’t understand the circumstances. ‘How could the witnesses have seen the inside of a moving carriage’? It shocks the entire courtroom and Van Zieks is the one to speak:

“-But you’re here in London yourself. Are you really so ignorant about our omnibuses? Tell me, my Nipponese friend… Have you even travelled in an omnibus?”

I have to be honest, I struggled to pinpoint just how I felt about these remarks. Sure, I can overanalyze this, looking at how the words “I’d read-” imply he doesn’t know the following sentiment to be true and therefore doesn’t feel confident enough to say something like “I knew-”... But it doesn’t change that he’s being scummy here. In a roundabout way, he’s still saying Japan is far less civilised than Britain and that Ryu is extra ignorant for not knowing about omnibuses when he’s in London. So basically, he gets scumbag points for this. But then there’s…:

Which is just a basic jab at Ryu’s intelligence. It’s the sort of remark we’d get from every single prosecutor. I think even Klavier would say this sort of line with a smile on his face.

But definitely more scumbag points here, because this was a direct attack in more ways than one. Particularly the word “stray” was uncalled for. CEO of Racism, indeed. Something very interesting happens when the knife gets pulled into the story halfway into the first cross-examination, though. When Ryu asks about it, Van Zieks replies with this:

He’s… actually being civil? (I doublechecked with Scarlet Study, and they are in agreement on the timid nature of this line, translating “yes, Counsel” as “Quite so”.) Instead, Van Zieks turns his attention to the fact that there’s an M on the sheath, directing all his offensive attitude towards McGilded. It gets even more curious when the last juror refuses to cast a guilty verdict, instead talking about what a good man she believes McGilded to be. Van Zieks says:

So he’s not only frustrated with McGilded now, he’s frustrated with the people of London for not knowing what sort of person McGilded really is. Van Zieks reveals he’s a dirty money lender who gained his fortune through corrupt means. He even takes the time to inform Ryu of this with the words “Your client is a shylock, sir!” Edit: I feel a need to address this: shylock is a word with antisemitic roots. It originally came from a Shakespeare play involving a very bad stereotype. It later evolved to have a more broad meaning basically synonymous to loan shark and I think that’s the context the localization means to use it in. There’s absolutely no indication of McGilded’s religious beliefs and even if there were, I highly doubt the localization would use that sort of slur. Still, it’s a very unfortunate choice of words and is sure to accidentally sour Van Zieks even more with some players.

With that, the last juror votes, the scale tips towards Guilty and Van Zieks assumes the trial to be over. He thanks the jurors for their work. Unfortunately, once Susato brings up the Summation Examination, Van Zieks gets very frustrated again. This happens:

IIII don’t know what to do with this line. On first glance, I didn’t think much of it and was even willing to consider it was a compliment. Then I thought it must’ve been passive aggressive somehow; that it’s the sort of thing he wouldn’t believe until he’d seen it with his own eyes. A friend directed me to the notion that it might be referencing a stereotype that ‘Eastern women are fierce’ because they were associated with, well, certain ‘paid services’. I don’t think I need to explain, I’m sure you understand what I mean. And if indeed that’s what Barok is insinuating, that’s a new low I never thought he’d reach. However, when you’ve finished the games and know that Barok was friends with a married Japanese man, it’s entirely possible that he’s remembering a story once told to him by Genshin Asogi. So this is either a bittersweet reminiscence or the most scumbag association he ever could’ve made, but I’m not sure we can ever prove which it is. Edit: As another option, it’s possible he’s referring to the Yamato Nadeshiko stereotype, if indeed it already held the ‘touch of iron’ aspect to it back in 1900. He proceeds to toast his hallowed chalice to “the enigmatic East” and to be honest, I’ve once again got nothing. All I know is that he once again drew attention to the defense’s race when he didn’t need to, so… Scumbag point. As a sidenote, in regards to the wine… I don’t count this as a humanizing trait. The same applies to the leg slam. These are animations meant to add some more lighthearted air and breathe more life into Van Zieks, so he doesn’t just stand there like a statue. They’re just quirks meant to have him stand out from other characters. So yeah, fun as the wine and leg slam animations are, they don’t count in the redemption requirements. Anyway, Van Zieks mocks the age of Susato’s book, saying that judging by its bindings it must be fifty years old. Considering the context of the conversation, this isn’t out of bounds. The defense is using ‘outdated’ information on the law, so he points that out. Any prosecutor would’ve done it like this. Simon Blackquill likely would’ve offered to shred that outdated tome to bits for Susato. Van Zieks does toss in a “Hmph, typical Nipponese” later though, which earns him one more scumbag point. Van Zieks continues to dismiss the Summation Examination, but the judge overrules him and allows it. Law is law, after all! And this is what I meant in my previous post when I said it’s satisfying to see Ryu use actual British law against Van Zieks. Ryu is using a perfectly legitimate technique to win the jurors over, and as Susato tells him, he can only do it by turning the jurors against one another with facts. He can’t appeal to them, he can only have them see sense. Which is difficult, because some jurors are more prejudiced than others:

… Yeah. Uh. Calling Ryu a “Dark Jinx” is pretty awful. Scumbag points for Juror No. 1! Meanwhile, Juror No. 4 keeps us updated on Barok’s actions throughout this trial:

Wow. Typical prosecutor behavior, though. Regardless, Ryu manages to win them all over in the end. With enough of the scales set back to not-guilty, the trial is allowed to continue, which leads to this:

Bye, hallowed chalice. A fun animation to keep things fresh and show us that the trial is about to take a turn. Once again, nothing new. We’ve seen prosecutors lose their patience before. What does interest me, though, is that Barok doesn’t direct physical frustration towards the defense. Remember: Franziska snaps a whip at Phoenix, Godot throws coffee at his head, Blackquill sends a hawk to attack the defense or uses that aijutsu slicing move, Nahyuta throws restricting beads… These were all direct physical attacks. Van Zieks, much like Edgeworth and Klavier, directs his frustration more inward and as a result he destroys his own property.

He succeeds in intimidating Ryu, though. Van Zieks explains that he kept silent, as is the norm during Examination Summation, but makes it clear that he considers it a charade all the same.

Van Zieks has been a pretty good gentleman towards the jury up until now, speaking to them politely despite that one remark about having their head in the clouds. Now that he’s seeing them ‘buy into Ryu’s stories’, as one might describe it, he’s getting frustrated with them. Maybe he’s even frustrated they’re choosing the defense’s side over his own.

He removes his cloak, entering what he says to be the next round of their ‘battle’. More typical prosecutor behavior, this. I’m not sure there’s an underlying thought to this, other than to indicate to the audience that ‘things have gotten serious’. When the next bit of testimony is going on, I noticed something odd. Both Fairplay and Furst testify to having seen blood on McGilded’s hands, to which Van Zieks says:

“... Reported that there was no trace of blood on Mr. McGilded’s gloved hands.” So in a way, by establishing this fact, he’s helping the defense and going against what the witnesses are saying. It doesn’t help the prosecution in any way at all.

The trial continues on, with Van Zieks uttering things like “My Nipponese friend” and “my learned friend from the East” and lord knows what else… I suppose to soften the harshness of the original wording a bit and make Van Zieks just a bit less dislikable? Edit: Tumblr user @beevean​ has pointed out that “my learned friend” is an actual term used in courts of law. There’s a tradition (also employed in British courts of law) that when addressing either the court or the judge, a barrister refers to the opposing counsel using the respectful term, "my learned friend". Of course, it can be said with an air of passive aggression and pretending to be respectful to the court while shamelessly disrespecting it is something Barok has always done, so the addition of “my learned friend” to the localization text is amazingly in-character. Then of course we have:

This is both a scumbag remark and foreshadowing. Naturally, those playing the game for the first time won’t recognize it as the latter and therefore take it as nothing more than a harsh blow. Things spiral even further out of control when he starts talking about how people who claim the island nations of the Far East have a learning and culture of their own use those terms ill-advisedly. He also uses the words “artless backwater” and really, this is the low point of the trial right here when it comes to prejudice. Van Zieks is just plain lashing out with these sort of jabs.

Eventually, McGilded is dragged onto the witness stand to testify about whether or not there was another passenger aboard the omnibus. McGilded admits that there was, and Van Zieks snaps at him some more for using convenient excuses. Ryu is forgotten here for a moment. The whole smoke bomb thing happens, Van Zieks confers with McGilded and Gina in his own chambers, then the trial resumes. McGilded testifies, then Gina testifies… The jury votes not-guilty, buying into McGilded’s story about protecting a poor young pickpocket and Van Zieks loses it. He slams his heel down on the bench, pointing out that this is why he doesn’t like the jury system; because emotions are ruling where evidence and facts ought to be paramount. He points out while the cubbyhole Gina had been hiding in was empty now, it had been full of the coachman’s belongings during the police investigation. Someone tampered with the omnibus. This is where things get interesting, because Van Zieks addresses Ryu:

He’s giving Ryu the benefit of the doubt here. He’s offering an option for Ryu to be truthful about this matter. And that’s curious, because any defense attorney would naturally say what’s best for his client- or so it’s assumed. It puts Ryu in a difficult position for sure, but for some reason Van Zieks put the question forward anyway. The game responds as follows:

For the sake of argument, I attempted all three options. So when Ryu says he didn’t look, Van Zieks says: “Hm… Perhaps I credited you with too much intelligence.”

So when feigning ignorance, Van Zieks is kind of a scumbag about it. He is correct in his expectation that any attorney worth his badge would thoroughly examine the details of the evidence, but he didn’t need to be such a jerk about it. Now, when outright lying and saying it was empty, Van Zieks instead says:

The lines are very similar, which is an interesting note. It adds a feel of these responses being 'rehearsed', in a way. Just a default for him to fall back to. But the real kicker comes when Ryu tells the truth and says it wasn’t empty. Van Zieks is actually speechless at first with no more than a “...!” Clearly, he wasn’t expecting Ryu to respond like this. Everyone in court is baffled, McGilded gets angry… Van Zieks is a bit rattled now.

“Your task is to defend the man in the stand. Why would you say something to compromise his position?”

So really, it seems as if Van Zieks had only ever offered the question to Ryu with pessimistic intentions. He too had assumed there was only one answer the defense could give and was prepared for just that with his silly little wine analogies, only to be shocked when Ryu defies his expectations. Ryu confesses that he’s not entirely sure on where he stands in the matter, to which Van Zieks replies with “... Interesting.” 

So now the jury members are doubting themselves again, with some offering guilty verdicts. Van Zieks decides to honor the ‘Scales of Justice’ once more now that they’re back in his favor, like the hypocrite he is. Gina testifies, Ryu points out an inconsistency, Van Zieks takes that opportunity to turn the tables back in his favor by implying Gina is a liar… He passive aggressively thanks Ryu for saving him considerable trouble and whatnot with some more “my learned Nipponese friend” remarks in there… Ryu turns the tables once more by insisting the victim came into the omnibus through the skylight, Van Zieks demands evidence and points out that furthermore, if indeed such a thing had happened, the witnesses on the roof would’ve seen it. McGilded hops into the conversation to imply that the witnesses themselves were the killers, which sends the court into a frenzy. Both Van Zieks and the judge shift the responsibility of the accusation towards Ryu, even though he never said a word to directly accuse the witnesses. Kind of a douchey move. Barok even states that Ryu’s ‘command of the English tongue must be wanting’, since

Yeahhh, that's pretty unfair. McGilded was the one who dropped that implication. However, since the judge basically accuses Ryu of the same thing, it’s a narrative choice to warn Ryu he needs to anticipate where his reasoning will lead him. Fairplay and Furst testify, pandemonium ensues. McGilded eventually gets what he wants when it’s revealed the skylight can open and there’s blood in there. Van Zieks once again turns his attention to McGilded:

He knows McGilded is at the root of all this tomfoolery and evidence manipulation. McGilded is the real enemy here, in Van Zieks’s eyes. The conversation shows this by having Van Zieks point out that he’s well aware of McGilded’s involvement in dubious matters and that evidence is often ‘adapted’ to suit this guy’s stories. And now, once again, he turns his attention to Ryu. Once again, he’s giving the defense the benefit of the doubt:

The game gives you the illusion of choice here. If you choose to say it’s ‘out of the question’ that the evidence was tampered with, Ryu will refuse to say it out loud. If you say it’s entirely possible, Ryu will admit to that.

This is probably baffling to Van Zieks. It would’ve been so easy for Ryu to insist the tampering couldn’t have happened, but he doesn’t. The game won’t even let him. No matter what you choose, Van Zieks is clued in on the fact that Ryu doesn’t condone the deceit that McGilded is resorting to. But it gets even better, because a short time later, we get:

Another option to either draw attention to forgery, or to feign ignorance. Once again, I chose both options for argument’s sake, but having Ryu say he has no idea doesn’t get us anywhere. Susato will instead object to say it for him. With “I have an inkling”, Ryu says it himself. Van Zieks once again confesses, in his own words, that he’s caught off guard.

Ryu clarifies that he thinks the blood stain inside the omnibus is decisive evidence, but he can’t say for certain whether it’s genuine. McGilded loses it and by this point, is outright branding Van Zieks an enemy. Since the player at this point doesn't know whether McGilded is guilty or not, it leaves Van Zieks in a bit of narrative limbo. One might think: 'if the prosecutor is so intent on taking down a murderer, shouldn't we be on his side? Is he perhaps not as bad as he seems?' Unfortunately, McGilded points out that recollection and memories don’t matter, only evidence does. And… Well.

Which means they can’t rule on a guilty verdict and will have to let McGilded go. Van Zieks admits that he has no more witnesses or evidence to present. He’s out of options. As a formality, the judge asks the defense’s closing statement and we get one last option. Do we believe him to be guilty or not-guilty? When claiming he’s innocent, Van Zieks says:

It seems he means “abject” in the sense of “without pride/respect/dignity for oneself”, which… You know, is fair. By this point it’s very clear that McGilded is guilty, and since Ryu has already admitted that the evidence may be forged, insisting otherwise is indeed pretty spineless. Scumbag points to Van Zieks for continuing to draw attention to the fact that Ryu is from Japan, though.

Let’s instead just admit that we can’t say for certain McGilded is innocent. Unfortunately, we don’t see Van Zieks react to this, which is a bummer because this could’ve been very telling. The judge questions Ryu’s sanity (no joke) and McGilded laughs because it doesn’t matter; it was just a formality anyway. The judge scolds Van Zieks, saying that his case was flawed and it was his job to keep the evidence secure. Instead of objecting, Van Zieks just outright takes the blame for this and apologizes. Very interesting reaction, here. He stops pointing the finger to McGilded, he doesn’t attempt to accuse anyone else… He just admits his performance was flawed. Ryu tries to interject here:

(A badly-timed screenshot if I’ve ever seen one.) Ryu is making an attempt here to defend Van Zieks, the guy who has built up like 20 scumbag points by now. Ryu sincerely doesn’t hold a grudge against him. That’s very interesting. It doesn’t matter, though. The judge won’t hear of it, Ryu thinks it’s unfair, Van Zieks warns McGilded that this isn’t over and then we get the not-guilty verdict.

Hurray??? Profit??? It’s a victory that’s bound to leave the player feeling conflicted and jarred.

But after all’s said and done, we get one last cutscene to establish just how ominous Van Zieks really is. The omnibus is on fire, someone is inside and we know McGilded went into the courtroom earlier to investigate the omnibus in question. So really, by putting two and two together we can already guess what’s going on here. Van Zieks approaches the scene and watches silently.

It’s a good reminder to us that every defendant he prosecutes is ‘damned’ and he’s called the Reaper for a reason. Really puts the finishing touch on the eerie undertones of his character.

All in all, a pretty typical first time against a new prosecutor. Now I just want to draw attention to the fact that the first time we face Van Zieks in court… he’s actually on the right side of the courtroom and Ryu is not. Van Zieks presumably specifically returned to the court after those five years to target McGilded, as he knows about this guy’s shady reputation when it comes to ‘adapting’ evidence. Barok is 'cursed' in such a way that every defendant he faces is damned. So long as he stands as the prosecutor, McGilded can’t get away with his crimes. No matter how much forgery is done, the Reaper will go after McGilded and it seems Van Zieks was banking on this happening.

He likely also expected Ryu to have been bought off by McGilded; to say whatever’s convenient for his case. Turns out, Ryu is actually a man of integrity who’s invested in the truth and near the end of the trial, Barok has seen evidence of this. So what will happen next? We’ll have to play The Clouded Kokoro and find out! Stay tuned!

[grimmradiance]

Close to Me: How the Hollow Knight's Fighting Style Reflects Their Trauma (and the Radiance's as well)

So I've been trying to actually beat the Radiance, which means I've been fighting the Hollow Knight. A lot, as a matter of fact, since I'm beans at this game sometimes. I've also been thinking about @lost-kinn's meta about how fighting styles are how Vessels, especially the Little Knight, communicate.

In trying to apply this to the Hollow Knight, I've been coming to some very interesting conclusions, especially taken in context of...Everything Else in the lore, and Everything Else implicated in this by the psychology of it.

There's a lot to cover here, and it tracks through a LOT of different places, including trauma psychology, the relationship between chronic stress and lifespan health, and shape symbolism. Two warnings first:

One: this essay is gonna get heavy. It includes fine-grained discussion of the Hollow Knight's trauma, including discussions of the real-life machanics of psychological abuse, as well as the Extremely Concerning Implications of them harming themself during their boss fight. please read with caution and when you're in a safe emotional place to do so.

Two: This post is not a place for justifying the Pale King. If you read this essay in its entirety and still want to do that, please make your own post; my relationship to the Hollow Knight themself is deeply rooted in my own experiences, so in the context of this discussion I can't promise I won't take it personally.

With that out of the way, let's talk trauma and fighting styles:

We know that the Hollow Knight is trained to be a paragon of fighting skill, through the Pure Vessel fight, and this gives us a fantastic way to compare what they were like before they were made Government Assigned Radiance Jail, and after. Or, in other words, we're given the perfect opportunity to see what the Radiance is doing (i.e. context effects), and what Hollow is (i.e. what we can conclude is reliably consistent as a part of them). Listed here, for reference:

Hollow's attacks:

Three slashes

A dash slash

A Radiant Shade Soul, which launches a volley of Infection blobs in arcs

A Radiant Desolate Dive, which produces pillars of entwined Void and Light at random intervals

The Infection bursting out of them in random arcs, covering a significant amount of the aerial space of the arena

The Radiance ragdolling their body around trying to hit the Knight

Contact damage from them stabbing themself and falling over atop you

The Pure Vessel's attacks:

Three slashes

A dash slash

A Pure Shade Soul, which launches a volley of nails in straight lines

A Pure Desolate Dive, which produces nails at specific intervals

A Pure Focus, which causes circular explosions across most of the aerial space in the arena

Lashing out with a Void Arm (word choice intentional)

I've highlighted attacks from each battle that are different, since those are our points of interest here. In addition, both the Pure Vessel and Hollow are exceedingly fond of teleport-spamming in a way that is usually reserved for a specific group of bosses.

Another very important distinction between these two fights: the Pure Vessel doesn't scream. Well, they certainly try to, but no sound comes out. No voice to cry suffering, after all. All of these points have a lot to go into, so let's address them one at a time.

All That Remains: Theoretical Background On The Significance Of Constants

Making comparisons across time is important specifically because humans (and human-like bugs) change. Most personality traits aren't set in stone--they exist as an interaction of someone's internal tendencies, their experiences, and their environment. Speaking of those last two points, not all experiences and environments are created equally. Adverse childhood experiences (ACEs for short) are known to have lifelong implications for a child's health, both physically and mentally. These are events that are so stressful or stressful for so long that they exceed a child's ability to cope and become toxic stress (yes, that's the term in the literature, because it actively damages your organs). They compound, as well--the stress of one ACE makes it harder for a child to cope with another, especially if they overlap.

Some examples of ACEs? Being exposed to physical danger or the threat of physical danger, deprivation of normal social relationships with peers of a similar age, being forcibly seperated from family members, witnessing a loved one being hurt or killed, chronic illness in oneself or a family member, neglect of a child's emotional needs....

Poor fucking Holly. It's a miracle they didn't disintegrate under the pressure. The only other option is that they bent and adapted under that much stress--in other words, most of their personality has been forcibly reshaped by what they've gone through. Anyone who has up-close experience with parentification or complex child abuse already knows: this was by design. I'm not saying the intent was to traumatize the Pure Vessel past several points of no return, but the intent definitely was to reshape their personality for the purpose of being The Vessel. We only see them (the Pure Vessel) in battle after this process is mostly or entirely complete, but we do see them a few times beforehand. I'd like to draw attention to the Path of Pain cutscene right now.

I've seen people talking about the look the Vessel and the King share as a sign that TPK really does love his child. That might be true, but it's definitely not relevant when it comes to how abuse works. This is, in fact, exactly how the cycle of abuse uses affection as a tool. Long periods of abuse or neglect, smoothed over by small periods of affection that placate the survivor? That's textbook love bombing, the kind that forms stubborn trauma bonds and facilitates unhealthy dependency. Forgive me for not giving the Higher Being of knowledge and prescience the benefit of the doubt on that one. (/s)

Team Cherry knows about the importance of parallels and dissonance. There's a reason the music in the second phase of the Hollow Knight fight plays in the Path of Pain. There's a reason it cuts out the moment the battle with the Kingsmoulds is over, instead of at the room transition. There's a reason it doesn't cut out in the Black Egg. Actually, there's two potential reasons, which could also coexist: either little Hollow trusts the Pale King to keep them safe, even after the borderline torture that they were just subjected to, or big Hollow is so hypervigilant that they're in full functioning-through-trauma mode even while they're at death's door.

If you don't see how much the Pale King scarred his child at this point, I'm not sure we were playing the same game.

Walking the Straight Line: How the Pale King's Teachings Show In the Pure Vessel

The Pale King loves order and control. Everything about the White Palace and every decision we see him make implies this. Everything is spotless white walls and well-maintained gardens; the only signs of disorder are hidden away, either in his workshop or in The Pit™. This also reflects in the Pure Vessel's title--pure as in holy, but also pure as in without flaw. Considering the Nailsmith's emotional state after completing the Pure Nail, TPK's fate with his Perfect Controlled Kingdom, and the Godmaster ending as a whole, attaining perfection is not a good thing in any sense.

We know the Hollow Knight isn't perfect--that's the whole catalyst for the plot. But considering their upbringing and their fighting style as the Pure Vessel, their imperfections absolutely kill them emotionally. I'll spare the lecture on how perfectionism affects neurodivergent kids even more severely than neurotypical kids, if only to keep this post to a reasonable length (look up "twice-exceptional children" if you'd like to know the theory I'm glossing over in more depth). But, in essence, the deck is doubly stacked against them--they have a higher goal to reach, and far more obsctacles in their path, including their own emotional scars.

I've already discussed how Hollow isn't meant for this kind of stress in a physical sense in other posts. They're not prepared for it emotionally, either--the Pale King wants perfection, and they can't even stand up straight (every spoonie in the audience already knows how exhausting people's obsession with Standing Up Straight is). There's another page on their stack of emotional baggage, even BEFORE you consider that the Pure Vessel knows their perfection is what bought them a ticket out of the Abyss.

Bringing Teleportation To A Sword Fight: Where The Pure Vessel Reveals Their Fears

How else are they going to cope with that need for perfection, that need to prove themselves worthy of the reason their life was spared, by being flawless in any way they can? Being a mechanical, flawless fighter puts so much pressure on them, both literally (repetitive strain injuries fucking HURT) and figuratively--if you're predictable, the only sure way to win is to mop the floor with your opponents before they figure you out. Hell, that's the way most people play their first run of Hollow Knight, by throwing themselves at the bosses over and over until they figure out the patterns. That strategy is inherently going to fail against an opponent that's, say, an immortal higher being.

There's no way that the Vessel didn't figure this out, and yet none of their TPV specific attacks are positioned randomly--the nails are always evenly spaced, and the Focus explosions are always in a specific height region of the screen. That's clinging to survival strategies even when they become maladaptive in its purest form.

Another dip into psychological theory: let's talk about disorganized attachment. Attachment styles describe how someone's relationships to their main caregiver(s) influence their understanding on relationships in general. Disorganized attachment is a result of an upbringing of inherently unstable parent-child relationships, where there's no way of a child predicting whether an adult is going to be delighted to see them, ambivalent, upset, or otherwise. If my parent woke up some days saying "all right my child, time for the Infinite Buzzsaws Obstacle Course," I'd be the same way. In adulthood this manifests as an inability to form a stable sense of self-concept as well as concepts of others. Mission accomplished, TPK, there's no will to break if you broke it yourself.

This is where the fighting styles as communication comes in--Hollow needs to keep Ghost at a distance to fight, but also wants to be closer to their sibling (the only being who has a chance of understanding what they've been through), BUT also has a trauma-rooted fear of attaching to people, as their experiences with attachment are inherently unpredictable and dangerous. Hence, both the teleportation that doesn't seem to match their fighting style any more reliably than "aim at the thing attacking you" and the second attack unique to the Pure Vessel--they're quite literally lashing out in pain to push people away. There's a reason that attack is so reminiscent of the Thorns of Agony.

Of note is that Holly does seem to teleport like the bugs of the Soul Sanctum do (favoring the edges of a screen, rather than going wherever like Dream Warriors do), which makes sense--they're the most obvious answer to the question "how did they learn how to teleport, anyways?" However, Sanctum bugs have abilities designed to capitalize on this, like homing spells and slashes from above. I can only assume this means that someone saw Holly's proficiency with the nail and assumed it translated to other forms of combat, and didn't feel the need to give them at least a bit of a primer on how to make the best use of it. There's another tally for the Hollow Knight as an autism metaphor.

Trauma Bonds: How the Radiance Speaks Through Hollow

Now, we're back to the Black Egg, and two people stuck in the same sinking ship. The thing that makes this hurt so badly is that Holly and the Radiance are at complete cross purposes here, and yet they both want the same thing:

They both want out, no matter the cost. For the Radiance, this means forsaking the pacifistic nature of the moths and nuking Ghost personally.

For Hollow, this means forsaking the way they were raised and everything that was bludgeoned into their personality: the only way out is to fail, give up control, and trust that Ghost will do what needs to be done.

Imagine how much pain they're in to actually go for it. Going against a literal lifetime of conditioning is something that takes the average person years to even consider, let alone go through with. It's a form of learned helplessness--if you try to break free and fall, again and again, it actively discourages further attempts. Breaking through learned helplessness is an interesting process, because it generally involves re-establishing a sense of control by recalling previous events where the person was able to change their situation.

Which, as far as we know of, are nothing but traumatic memories for Hollow. It's very unlikely that they'd break through it on their own, but we know they have by the time we see the second phase of their fight. This is them at their most desperate: the same music as the Path of Pain, the way they let, or can't stop, the Radiance throw their body around, the way they actively try to let the Radiance out by stabbing themself.

You'd think that giving up and learned helplessness are inherently compatible, but when giving up both goes against your core personality, and involves your active participation, they're in direct opposition. So either Holly was able to process all their trauma by themself (which I doubt, judging by how much effort the player has to go through to even see Ghost's and Hollow's traumatic memories), or someone gave them a nudge or three in that direction.

Considering that there's been someone living in Holly's head who has a vested interest in them Not Doing Their Duty, I think we know who. And the thing is, I think we watch Hollow have this breakthrough during their battle. Imagine for the first time in decades, at least, you can move. You're in pain from being in the same position, probably hallucinating from sensory deprivation, with an infection sucking at what strength your body has left. And there's this little creature who looks ready to fight you, who seems to have let you go for that exact purpose.

And you look down, and both you and the Radiance recognize them from a place rooted deeper than consciousness, in the murky depths of trauma. You see the other Vessel who just as easily could have been you, and who looks so much stronger for not being you, for being an imperfect, willful creature. And the Radiance sees history threatening to repeat itself, another one of the Wyrm's cursed children seeking to lock her away once more.

What else do you do when you're triggered? You scream, and you go on instinct, and you retreat into your head. Those first blows, with the epic music? That's the Vessel the Pale King forged, the fighting machine that will endure unimaginable stress because it knows no other way. What snaps you back out of dissociation? Usually, either the passage of the triggering stimulus, or an even more relevant stimulus (severe pain from getting beaten up by a nail, for example).

The tragedy is this: we know this isn't a triumph. I think most of us went into that fight the first time, knowing we'd be putting the Hollow Knight out of their misery. The music turns tragic, Hollow screams, and then we see the Radiance and Hollow themself break through: the Radiance trying to fight Ghost directly with the resources she has, and Hollow trying to help her along.

For what it's worth, Hollow even had the right idea, when it came to letting themself rest while helping Ghost stop the madness their father started--they were just digging for the Radiance in the wrong place. The dynamic between the Radiance and the Hollow Knight is something I could write on for pages and pages, but this has gone on for long enough. Tune in next time, where I'll presumably talk about this same topic but in reverse with regards to the Radiance.

[hatterstan-shameblog]

For the AiB headcanon thing: Arisu and Usagi are in a queerplatonic relationship. This isn’t News, it's canon. The thing is, people at the beach, including most of the executives, think that they are a full blown couple. This makes things awkward when Niragi catches Arisu and Chishiya agressively making out one day and reports back to Hatter. Hatter goes to Usagi being all "hey girly, hate to be the one to tell you this but your bf is cheating on you". Usagi has 2 possible answers for this: she either goes "Hatter, I'm a lesbian." Or, full blank faced says in a deadpan "oh noooo. How will i get over this."

(So I had to look up the particulars of queer-platonic relationships because they’re kind of new to me, which was a cool learning experience! That being said, I apologize if I got the gist of it wrong—feel free to correct me if you want! I like learning!)

(Also, this is basically PG, only very slight allusions to anything spicy, so anyone can read it!)

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

“Let’s talk about boys.”

Usagi’s heart skips—and not in a good way. Of all the trouble she could have gotten into today, tea with Hatter is perhaps one of the worst options; because it’s never just ‘tea’ or ‘drinks’ or ‘listening to The Doors’ self-titled album while we craft new locker key bracelets.’

No. He definitely has an ulterior motive.

“Specifically,” Hatter clarifies, snapping another grape from the bowl of fruit between them, “yours.”

Usagi stiffens.

“Uh,” she says, taking a nervous sip of hibiscus tea, “what do you want to know?”

“It’s not what I want to know,” Hatter says lazily, admiring his gaudy ring in the early afternoon sunlight, “but what you might like to know, my dear.”

He knows. Usagi gulps nervously, fingertips gripping the delicate porcelain of her teacup a little tighter. Hatter somehow caught wind of Arisu and Chisiya’s plan to steal the cards, and now he’s gonna get me to confirm it.

“I’m not sure I follow…” Usagi recovers, setting her teacup down on the coffee table.

Hatter smirks.

“Your Arisu is a handsome young man, isn’t he? Strong jaw, lovely eyes,the long and elegant limbs of a dancer,” Hatter muses, “why, I imagine he could get away with murder with just a pout of those kissable lips…”

“He’s, uh,” Usagi stammers, “he’s v-very beautiful. I’m, uh…I’m a lucky girl, I guess?”

“Look at how your eyes light up when you talk about him—oh, aren’t you precious,” Hatter pouts, taking up his teacup and examining its contents, “Although I worry that won’t be the case for much longer…”

He watches Usagi over the rim of his teacup as he takes a long, slow sip—he’s waiting for her to react, he’s waiting for her to shatter and tell him all about the card-stealing scheme with tears streaming down her face and a wavering voice.

He’ll have to keep waiting.

Usagi Yuzhua doesn’t break.

“Arisu is a good man,” she insists, “I can’t imagine him doing something that bad.”

“That’s the difference between you and I, I suppose. You can’t imagine and I…well, I don’t have to.”

Hatter leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His chin perched on his right fist, he regards Usagi with a questioning look.

“Your beau,” he says, “he’s…rather close with that Chisiya fellow, isn’t he? I hardly ever see one without the other these days—surely you’ve noticed it, too.”

Usagi feels her palms start to sweat. Not good, not good, not good! She must have told them a hundred times to lay low, that the walls in this place may as well have eyes and ears for all the gossip that gets spread around.

“He and Chisiya are,” Usagi says weakly, “they’re good friends—“

“Very good friends,” Hatter clarifies, putting an uncomfortable amount of emphasis on the word very, “Makes one wonder just what on earth those two have been getting up to…”

“I-I don’t,” Usagi clears her throat, “If you have something to say, I’d rather you just tell me instead of…whatever it is you’re doing right now.”

Hatter chuckles.

“I’ll admit,” he says, leaning back into a relaxed slouch, “not many people speak to me like that these days. It’s…refreshing to see a young lady so unafraid to speak her mind.”

He plucks a strawberry from the spread in front of him, examining the glistening perfection of the ripe fruit in the light. With a casual glance thrown in her direction, Hatter twists off the green stem and pops the entire strawberry into his mouth.

“I didn’t mean to barge in—truly, I didn’t,” Hatter recounts, “I was fetching some documents from the meeting room; classified information, couldn’t let just anyone pick them up, so I simply decided to go get them myself.”

Usagi nods along politely. It’s very difficult to maintain her composure when it feels like there’s an axe above her head about to come swinging down at any moment, but she must be doing a good enough job because Hatter is still regaling her with his little adventure.

“…Well, you know how it is,” He says, shooting her a cheeky little wink, “Anyways, imagine my surprise when I opened the door to see that your darling dearest and that little blonde fellow were already there. And—oh, how do I put this?—they were very much up to something.”

“What, uh,” Usagi asks, “what were they up to?”

He must have caught them with the very documents Hatter had been going to retrieve—it had a detailed set of blueprints, plus all the information they’d need to formulate their escape once the cards had been stolen.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, darling,” Hatter says with an air of fake regret, “but I saw your boyfriend and his best friend…”

Here it comes. Usagi’s stomach flips with nervousness. There’s a few windows in this room—not many, but maybe she could break one and escape if things got rough. She’s not really wearing the right shoes for that, but she would just have to make do.

“…in flagrante delicto,” Hatter says, drawing out each syllable for dramatic effect, “and right on the table, no less.”

“Oh.”

Relief crashes over Usagi like a wave. Of course Chisiya and Arisu wouldn’t have failed their mission—they’re two of the smartest, sneakiest people Usagi’s ever met, and snatching up a few documents wouldn’t be any kind of challenge for either of them.

…But Hatter is looking at her like she’s insane, jaw slack and sunglasses pushing his hair back to reveal a pair of very concerned eyes.

“I mean, oooooooooh,” Usagi attempts to recover, doing her best to appear hurt, “that’s, that’s terrible! I’m, uh…Arisu is going to be getting a stern talking-to when I get back to our room…”

Hatter does not seem impressed.

“Nice try, sister,” he snaps, crossing his arms across his chest and regarding her with an impatient look, “but I’m not falling for whatever cute little doe-eyed excuse you’re trying to sell me. You…you knew about this, didn’t you?”

Now, Usagi isn’t usually one to speak publicly about her relationships. In a place such as the Borderlands, it could…complicate matters, particularly when it comes to being paired up for games.

But right now? With Hatter staring at her with the fire of curiosity burning deep in his pupils, Usagi has no choice but to fill him in on their situation.

Who knows—maybe this could throw him off their trail even further?

“Arisu and I,” she starts carefully, “we’re…well, we’re in a queer-platonic relationship.”

“A what, now?”

“It’s,” Usagi considers how best to explain it to the gobsmacked man in front of her, “uh, I’m a lesbian and Arisu is still figuring out his sexuality, but he definitely doesn’t identify as straight.”

“But you’re…together,” he says slowly, the cogs in his strange little mind doing their best to process this information.

“Our relationship is mostly based on emotional intimacy. He loves me, and I love him,” Usagi explains, “it may not be what some would call a ‘conventional’ relationship, but we’re happy together.”

Hatter ponders. The takes a wedge of pineapple and pops it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

“So, the whole thing between Arisu and Chisiya,” he asks, “that’s…everybody’s cool with it?”

Usagi laughs lightly.

“Yes,” she nods, “in fact, I’m happy to hear that Arisu and Chisiya are, uh, finally expressing their feelings for each other.”

“Oh, they were expressing something,” Hatter muses, “Don’t worry—I left them to it. Far be it from me to interrupt young love…or whatever the hell that Chisiya kid’s got going on, I don’t pretend to know.”

He shrugs.

“Well, anyways,” Hatter concludes, “their business is their business, and I’m not one to pry.”

Usagi doubts that, but nods along anyways.

“But you, though,” he adds, lifting the delicate little teapot on the table and topping off her hibiscus tea, “since you’re already here, and we’re having such a lovely time together…”

Usagi gulps, that feeling of ‘this is not good’ settling into her stomach once again.

“…Let’s talk about girls.”

[herinsectreflection]

An Episode Within an Episode: An Analysis of ‘The Zeppo’

The Zeppo is one of those episodes that so consistently shows up on fan lists of “underrated” episodes, that I don’t know if it can really be considered “underrated” anymore, but I think it deserves a little extra appreciation. It’s definitely an episode that takes a second viewing to appreciate, thanks to how oddly it is constructed, in a way that isn’t immediately advertised to the viewer. Other episodes with unusual styles such as Once More With Feeling or Hush very much wear their concepts on their sleeve; you can’t watch them and not immediately realise what they are doing. That’s not a knock against those episodes - part of what makes them so great and iconic is that they get right to the point and so can do interesting things with the concept. The Zeppo is just a quieter kind of unique. It uses the limited perspective of both the characters and the audience themselves to show a cracked-mirror version of the world. It’s an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer told from the perspective of somebody looking in on another episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It’s fun and weird and I want to dig into it a little bit.

We start off with a very typical Buffy scene. In its third season now, the show is pretty aware of and confident in its own tropes, and trusts the audience to be too. We don’t need any build-up explaining exactly what Giles has found out and what spell Willow is performing and what these monsters are doing and exactly how Buffy and Faith know how to kill them. We’ve all seen an episode of Buffy before, and we can fill in the blanks pretty easily. This confidence in the show’s own tropes and what the audience expects of it is key to what makes this episode work. We know exactly how a typical episode of Buffy goes, so we can receive this barely-cliff-notes version of one and understand it perfectly. It’s an episode that can only be done in a show’s third year, when viewers have become fluent in the show’s language.

After the fight and exposition is over, Xander stands up from the garbage, as out of context as we are as viewers. As this is a Xander-centric episode, he becomes the audience identification figure. As the one character not supernaturally gifted or linked in any way (as the episode points out several times), Xander makes sense as the viewer stand-in. Xander comments on how he wants to be more involved in the fights but is firmly rebuffed - and it’s clear he wouldn’t be able to impact them anyway. All he can do is watch the fights and plots happen from a distance. In this sense, Xander is no different to the viewer, watching an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, unable to affect it in any way.

This is where the structure of the episode comes into play. The A plot is a fairly meaningless runaround with zombies, while the B-plot is a finale-worthy epic apocalyptic showdown. We only catch glimpses of it, but it seems to contain all the standard hallmarks of a Buffy apocalypse - an evil cult, opening the hellmouth, tearful Buffy/Angel melodrama. Specifically, it echoes the previous two season finales, with the final showdown apparently featuring both the literal monster from the S1 finale, and some kind of sacrifice that involved Angel (evoking the S2 finale). The very last bit of dialogue we hear during this plot is “Faith, go for the heart!” from Buffy, encouraging her to kill the demon in the library, which you could argue foreshadows the S3 finale, where Buffy will use the Mayor’s love for Faith to kill him in the library. This plot is a facsimile of a Buffy season finale, giving us everything we expect and have seen before, stripped of all context, the very bare bones of a story. 

What this achieves is that it alienates the viewer from this story-within-a story, forcing us into an intentionally uncomfortable position, where it feels like we’re watching an episode through a keyhole. It intentionally exacerbates the divide between viewer and show, to highlight our inability to fully perceive or at all impact this world we tune into each week.

Xander is very purposefully chosen as the POV character for this experience. He is feeling very insecure and ineffectual - unable to help with either brains or brawn, and not having a whole lot of impact on the story. He feels alienated from his friends, fearful that they will leave him behind. The structure of this episode highlights this feeling of ineffectualness. Xander feels so alienated from the events and people around him that he, like the audience, becomes separated from them. A character from Buffy the Vampire Slayer becomes an outsider to the story, watching an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. We are encouraged to empathise with Xander because we are in the same position. We too have been robbed of our usual intimacy with this group of people, forced to perceive the shadows of an episode. This meta-emotion dovetails with the character’s internal mental state nicely.

I think my favourite instance of this meta-perception being played with is in the scene between Buffy and Angel, where we are dropped without context into a tearful, dramatic argument where apparently Angel’s life is in the balance, filled with declarations of love and poetic exaltations, backed by this sweeping orchestral score - and then Xander pops his head in. The music immediately stops, he exchanges a few awkward lines with them before realising they have bigger things to worry about. As he leaves, Buffy turns back to the melodrama and the sweeping music surges back in. It’s brilliantly funny - it feels like Xander put an episode on pause for a quick interjection, then re-started it where we left off. It’s a joke relying entirely on the audience’s expectations of the kind of epic melodrama we might get from Buffy and Angel, and it works really well. In this moment, Xander completely becomes the viewer, peeking in on these two actors, observing through glass.

The Zeppo is very concerned with meta references, TV, and the act of watching. Obviously the title is a reference to Zeppo Marx, and there is also a running gag likening Xander to Jimmy Olsen. We are encouraged to think of Xander in relation to his narrative function as a fictional character, and so to watch this episode through this meta lens. One key shot just after Faith and Xander sleep together shows the two of them literally reflected in a TV screen. We are literally seeing a distorted reflection of reality in a TV screen, which on one level is essentially all we do whenever we watch any television show, but is also what we are seeing within this episode - a fuzzy reflection of a Buffy episode within a Buffy episode.

There’s another shot later that I like, of one of the zombies pausing during the final chase scene to look through the library window at the demon emerging from the hellmouth. We see him looking through the glass at this apocalypse monster for a couple of seconds before continuing on with his chase, like a channel-hopping viewer taking a brief glimpse of Buffy, momentarily enraptured, before switching back to what they were watching before.

One thing that stood out to me on this rewatch was how the villains are described. We purposefully get very little on the group, but what we do get is telling. “’Sisterhood of Jhe. Race of female demons, fierce warriors...' Eww. '...celebrate victory in battle by eating their foes.’”

A race of all-female warriors sounds very much like Slayers. They apparently eat after battles too, which according to Faith is also a feature of Slayers. The villain in this story is kind of a representation of the central concept of the show, which makes sense since it deals with Xander navigating around a typical episode of the show. You could also read it as representative of Xander’s pathologies when it comes to women and specifically women who are stronger than him.

What I like about this episode is that it doesn’t conclude by giving Xander a big important role in stopping the apocalypse, proving his worth to the group. That’s what a lesser show might have done. I like that here, Xander never gets involved with the epic finale-esque plot. He carries on existing in the spaces around it, becoming instead the hero of the monster-of-the-week runaround episode he has found himself in. Xander cannot be the hero of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, because he’s not Buffy. But he is still a human being, and all of us as human beings are the protagonists and heroes of our own stories. He can be the hero of his own life. 

S3 is largely about identity and forging one’s own path in life - obviously Buffy starts by having given up her name, then has to deal with facing off against her dark equivalent and making major decisions about her future. This season’s focus-episodes for the other characters reflect that: Giles is stripped of his role in Helpless, Willow rails against hers in Doppelgangland. This episode is all about Xander coming to terms with his narrative role within Buffy - as the non-powered comedic relief and occasional pep-talker. He could become frustrated with that, throw up his hands and let himself be at the mercy of his narrative function. But this episode allows him to find his own space, his own story. He accepts that he can’t colonise Buffy’s story, but he is still in control of his own decisions, and he can still have his own story. He can create a little one-off episode of Xander the Zombie Fighter that can co-exist peacefully with the episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer happening at the same time. It’s a smaller, quieter story without the same world-shaking melodrama - but that’s OK. As Xander says himself, he likes the quiet.

As viewers, we can never shape the course of the media we watch. That’s part of the appeal - we don’t always know what we want or need - a problem Xander faces himself when he clutches at things like “being cool” or “a car” for things that might make him happy - but a good show gives us what we didn’t realise we needed. But it remains an eternal frustration, that we can connect on a deep emotional level with these characters, but can never help them or solve their problems. A good set of characters can feel like family, but a character can never love you back. When Xander faces up against this same uselessness as he observes an episode of Buffy from afar, it is the same uselessness the viewer feels. When he accepts this and inhabits his own story, it reminds us that we can do the same thing. Television can be a great comfort, but it is not our lives. Because we can affect our own lives. We aren’t in control of them, but we can guide and impact them, and we can each be the hero of our own individual existences.

[zofia-asilo]

The role of Roleplay in Steven Universe: Part 1

I’m bored as heck with the ‘rona going around so I’ve returned to Steven Universe long after the party’s over. However anyone feels abour SU Future, I wanted to analyze the original series. So, as the title indicates, I want to look at the larger theme of roleplay as done by the characters. Let me count the ways:

First off, if you don’t know what Steven Universe is but would like to, it’s a Cartoon Network show that aired from late 2013 to early 2019 (not counting spinoffs). The premise is that the title character is half human and half immortal living gemstone; his late mother and her family protect Earth from strange monsters. Gems are sentient beings who project solid bodies out of their gemstones; Steven’s mother, Rose Quartz, gave birth to him by passing down her gemstone and giving up her existence in the process. Gems can’t normally cease to exist this way, and Rose’s team, called the Crystal Gems, are still dealing with the unprecedented experience of grief. However, they try their best to guide Steven now that he is a tween whose Gem powers are coming into their own. He recently moved in with with the Crystal Gems, who built a house for him on the doorstep of their own home. Just beyond the Crystal Temple is Beach City, a small seaside tourist town in a fictionalized version of Delaware. Steven has the benefits of interacting with both sides of his heritage in his everyday life, although there is much more to Gems than he knows when the series begins.

The three Crystal Gems, Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl, are all functionally immortal warriors with superhuman strength and their species’ standard abilities, but each of them has a different personality and relationship with Steven.

Pearl founded the Crystal Gems alongside Rose Quartz, and was the closest to her of the group. She has vast knowledge of Gemkind, nostalgia for the past of millennia ago, and a lot of grief from Rose’s cessation of existence. She is graceful, proper, and sometimes uptight, although she still tries her best as Steven’s stepmother figure. The relationships she has with the other full Gems on the team can still be strained, as she looks up to Garnet for support while looking down on Amethyst for being laid-back and irreverent. Holding her stepchildren figures to such high standards will instigate the first example of roleplaying in the show.

Garnet is the tallest and strongest member of the group, collected and stoic. She was the third member to join the Crystal Gems thousands of years ago, and without Rose to lead she has done her best to take up the mantle. Her intelligence, aided by precognitive abilities, along with her physical strength, make her well-suited to take most situations head-on. Unfortunately, this leadership role can strain her relationships with the others and while she means well, no one is perfect. In the beginning, she expresses her love for Steven with action instead of emotion. As a friend of Pearl and Rose, she could be considered an aunt figure to Steven. The first example of roleplaying in the show will be caused partly by her putting pressure on another character.

Amethyst is much younger than the other two of the trio, although she is millennia older than Steven. She comes across as a teen, relating the most to humankind and having less discipline than Garnet and Pearl. Underscoring this dynamic of age, strength, and seniority, Amethyst is the shortest of the three full gems. If I had to assign her a consistent canonical height, it would probably be 4-foot 6. Pearl would be 6 feet tall, and Garnet seven without her hair. Amethyst herself is still learning how to be a Crystal Gem and figuring out what will win the approval of Garnet, while chafing against Pearl’s fussy and cautious nature. This larger conflict with Pearl drives her to adopt a secret life away from the others’ eyes.

Chronologically in episode order, the first time we see roleplaying is when Steven finds out about Amethyst’s underground wrestling alter-ego Purple Puma in “Tiger Millionaire” (S1E9). Amethyst can let loose in the ring without the judgement and expectations of Garnet and Pearl to be a proper Crystal Gem. She is the bad guy in Beach City’s underground wrestling world, and the feedback from the crowd may or may not interact with her deep self-loathing which gets explored later.

Steven enthusiastically joins in with a persona of his own as Purple Puma’s tag-team partner. Tiger Millionaire can be a bit of a jerk, but Steven discovers that’s not what he really wants (or Amethyst). When the demonized duo is discovered by Garnet and Pearl, who are very angry, tempers flare and Amethyst tries to fight her parental figures.

(Good gravy, how many screenshots am I going to put in here.)

However, Tiger pleads with the Crystal Gems on behalf of Puma, telling them Amethyst’s motivations for wrestling through a narrative of Puma’s backstory. Concluding the speech, Tiger asks “Can’t we just have this? Can’t we just… wrestle?”

What Tiger means by ‘this’ when he asks “Can’t we just have this?” could be interpreted as acceptance rather than having the weight of expectations and propriety on Amethyst all the time. Instead of “You are a Crystal Gem. You need to act like it” (quote from Garnet), Tiger asks that Garnet and Pearl be more accepting.

The show’s first example of roleplaying showcases how it can be incredibly freeing, but can cause damage to relationships if true reconciliation isn’t reached. In this case, roleplay allowed Amethyst to vent frustration and escape social pressure, but when it was discovered Steven helped resolve the problem that Puma was created to solve. With no need to keep this secret from her family, Amethyst can be Purple Puma with one less stress on her mind; later episodes will see her return as Puma both inside and outside the ring.

Okay that’s it, I’m breaking this into parts. End of part 1, everybody! I haven’t even mentioned Rose Quartz yet.

[ducavalentinos]

Why do you think that Cesare helped Della Rovere become Pope? It's seems uncharacteristically...stupid? Perhaps illness and grief had made him desperate?

(Also I can't get that scene of Della Rovere hitting on Cesare in Borgia out of my head help lol)

Oh, thank you anon, for giving me the chance to vent my thoughts about the most frustrating event in Borgian history! This is long-ish, and tumblr is being weird(!!!!!!!) with the read-more link, so I'm not sure where/if it will show up below or not. Before answering your question, there is a question to be made first, I think: Why was Della Rovere still breathing in the year of 1503? If we follow the Borgias’ historical literature, the vast majority paints Rodrigo and Cesare, in particular Cesare, as unscrupulous, utterly ruthelss, vindictive men. They were the terror of Italy, and they meticulously eliminated all of their enemies. Yet, most of their enemies and their families, important to add, lived. Including Della Rovere, the most dangerous and bitterest rival of their family. What are we supposed to make of this? It's another one of those common situations in Borgian bios where what it is said is demonstrably at odds with the historical material, and it's something to ponder, I mean, Cesare only found himself in his predicament in 1503 because he and his father failed to strike down Della Rovere during those long eleven years they were in power. Their inability and/or unwillingness to do so was a graver political mistake than Cesare helping Della Rovere win the papacy in the end. And answering your question now, yes, I think the initial impression is that it does seem uncharacteristically stupid for Cesare to support Della Rovere, and help him win. But then again, I don't think Cesare's biographers are very good in showing the complexity of papal Conclaves, and the whole political landscape Cesare was in, and all the possible factors that came into play in his decision. Maybe it's a decision made not to overwhelm or bore the reader, but it usually has only one or two chapters covering both Conclaves, with a lot being left out or ignored, or simplified. The two most popular opinions are that: 1. Cesare had no choice, but to support Della Rovere. Some claim he was no longer in a powerful position, or felt lost without his father's guidance, and/or Della Rovere was the only and strongest candidate for that Conclave from the start, and his election was an impossible thing to avoid. It was already settled, and Cesare had to roll with it the best he could, and try not to make the future Pope even more hostile towards him. 2. He had other choices, namely he had cardinal Rouen, but in the end it didn't worked out, and Della Rovere stood unopposed as a candidate for the papacy, which forced Cesare to support him, and/or he apparently believed Della Rovere's promises, and thought they could reach an understanding. Opinion #1 is the most messy, and it makes zero sense to me today, given there is actual historical info reporting the contrary. The idea that Cesare's power and influence died out or diminished after his father died, or that he was lost without his guidance, are false. Prior to Della Rovere's election as Pope Giulio II, Cesare's power and influence remained strong. He still had large sums of money with his bankers in Genoa and other places of Italy, he continued to be visited daily by cardinals and orators, and indeed it even seems he was thought to be the decisive factor for any papal election. There isn't much criticism to be made either, when looking at his actions right after Rodrigo died, esp. considering at the same time he was dangerously ill himself, and it wasn't something he had prepared for, being it impossible to predict such a thing, he played all of his cards wise and correctly. He was able to secure Piccolomini as Pope, who if not a Borgia partisan, at least was not antagonistic towards him and his family. About the second Conclave, there is a report from Machiavelli in which he says cardinal Pallavicini was the only one being regarded as a possible rival to Della Rovere. And Burchard, whose info seems to have been correct in this instance, writes of a meeting that took place between Della Rovere and Cesare with the Spaniard cardinals at the Vatican, a variant of this info is of Della Rovere meeting Cesare and the Spaniard cardinals at the Castel Sant' Angelo, where they were able to reach an agreement. Opinion #2 makes a little more sense, and it matches a little bit more with the info there is, but it's still messy. Cardinal Pallavicini is almost never mentioned (only Woodward mentions him iirc), and it has to be said that even if Della Rovere succeeded in making himself an unopposed candidate, nevertheless, the Spanish vote could decide an election. So Cesare still had choices, and the reason why he didn't went with those choices, in my view, is not because he believed Della Rovere's promises, it's not the case of Della Rovere winning in the game of deception, I believe both men were aware that agreement was only temporary, and Cesare's decision there was composed by other factors. And between these two opinions, here's what I think is more plausible to have happened: Cesare, knowing his beloved tutor Giovanni Vera was as impossible a choice in that second Conclave as he had been in the first, thought about supporting the French cardinal Rouen. He was far from the ideal choice, but he was a workable choice for him. However, although his influence with the Spaniard cardinals was strong, he must have been aware his influence with them had limitations. The cardinals would never vote for a French candidate, because they were also obliged to King Ferdinand II of Spain, who also had his influence with them, and whose interests they were there in Rome to protect and represent. So much like Vera, Rouen quickly became an impossible choice for him. After this, it's reasonable to think he turned his efforts towards any candidate who stood a chance against Della Rovere, which turned out to be cardinal Pallavicini. Pallavicini is interesting, because like Della Rovere, he was also from the Liguria region (Genoa), but unlike Della Rovere, he maintained a friendly relationship with the Borgia family during Alexander VI's papacy. Rodrigo Borgia was able to secure his support during his own battle to win the papacy in the Conclave of 1492. He also counted on this cardinal's efforts when trying to nominate Cesare for the cardinalate. And he appointed him Bishop of Pamplona, a title previously held by Cesare himself. There is nothing, that I've found anyways, suggesting he and Cesare had direct interactions, but it's possible Cesare cultivated a relationship with him much in the same way he did with cardinal Piccolomini (later Pope Pius III). So by all accounts, Pallavicini was Cesare's best choice then, and it is intriguing there isn't much about this, or why Pallavicini failed to make himself Pope. In theory at least, with Cesare's support, he would have won the papacy. The Italian cardinals were not supporting Della Rovere because they wanted him, many disliked him, some still remembered the papacy of his uncle, but he seemed like a better choice than another Spaniard, or a French, or god forbid a Colonna or an Orsini, but with cardinal Pallavicini, they had a good choice there, and the only reason I can think of as to why they didn't elect him comes down to money and benefices. At some point, Pallavicini, even with Cesare's support, couldn't keep up with the resources Della Rovere made sure of having, and just like Rouen, he fell behind. From this point forward, things get more complicated for Cesare, but Della Rovere's election was still not a concluded reality. A question that follows when reading the info about him meeting with Cesare is: Would he have reached out to Cesare, the son of a man he hated to the core, from a family he despised, if his election was such a sure thing? I think the answer here is no. Della Rovere entering into an agreement with Cesare highly implies, if not proves it, he did not had the necessary votes to win. He needed the Spanish vote, 11 votes to be precise, which were under the influence of Cesare. Without the 11 votes, every single voting would end up nowhere, and a thought I believe was on Della Rovere's mind at the time was that: the longer it took for an election, the more difficult it became for him to stay as strong and unopposed. The support he had could shift in one week or two. New rivals could emerge, unexpected things could happen, because papal Conclaves were mostly unpredictable. It depended a lot on money, influence, the political situation on a daily basis, esp. in Rome, where as it was the norm without a Pope, was a city under total chaos. Della Rovere could only control so much for so long, and I think he knew that very well, hence why he swallowed his hatred, and went to negociate with the son of his archenemy, and get the 11 votes he needed to win as soon as possible.

Another question that follows after reading all this is: Ok, so why didn't Cesare used that for his advantage? better yet, why didn't he use the chaos in Rome, for example, to subtly force the cardinals to stop supporting Della Rovere and find a more favourable candidate for him? Or why didn't he simply stalled the election until a more favourable candidate appeared? These are all things he was in a position of doing, and the reason why he didn't do it, and instead went with helping Della Rovere can be better explained when considering the following factors: 1. You mentioned his grief, and his illness, which might have made him desperate, and while I don't think it was that exactly that made him desperate, I do think it counts as a factor into understanding his state of mind at that moment, and why he made that final decision. Cesare had gone through a rollercoster of events, and dare I say, emotions in less than 3 months. He lost his father, the constant and closest male presence in his life, as far as we know. He didn't had time to grieve him nor make sure he had a decent and respectful burial (it's possible he heard later what was said about his death and burial, and I have no idea how that made him feel) because he was also fighting for his life then. First against illness, then against his enemies in Rome. Not only that, other people and things depended on him. He was the head of the house then, and it fell to him the responsibility, among all that chaos, to keep the women and children of his family safe, as well as to make sure to get all the valuable possessions left in the Vatican and in his palace, before they were sacked completely by servants and others. This was an important step to ensure their survival in the coming months. Gioffre was there to help him, and he did helped, but you know, everyone looked at Cesare for leadership and protection, and he could barely leave his bed, so that surely must have added an extra layer of stress for him. But then, he succeeded in making Piccolomini pope, and it looked like the worst was over, things looked hopeful for him and the Borgia family. And then, suddenly Pius dies, only after 26 days of papacy. Again, if it was truly a natural death, there is no way Cesare could have predicted that, and just like that he was right back where he started. Having to navigate the messy political affairs of a papal conclave and its outcome, of which he and his family’s lives and future depended on. Cesare was resilient. Rodrigo raised his children to be resilient, and to not crumble at the face of adversity, to persist. But I guess we can agree this a lot for a person to process in such a short amount of time. So by the time the second Conclave happened, it would be reasonable to think Cesare might have been feeling overwhelmed, tired, in pain (he had gone through awful treatments), and overall just a bit shaken up mentally and emotionally, although he always tried to look strong and positive —it's interesting to notice it didn't seemed to have been in his nature to be a pessimist, only much later he is recorded as feeling more despondent, and saying Fortuna has left him *gets sad in spanish* — which made him more open to consider options he wouldn't have had under normal circumstances, I think. 2. As said above, Cesare seems to have had this trait in his personality of being resilient, it's one of the reasons why I think he survived for as long as he did (same with Lucrezia, I suppose), he had an instinct to not give up no matter how impossible the situation looked, of not being afraid to face adversities that came his way. He seems to have welcomed challenges, and it was when he felt most encouraged to fight and to thrive. When he was the prisoner of Della Rovere in the Vatican, then pope Giulio II, one of Giulio's men said to him: "signor duca, you have always been spirited." to which he is recorded as having said that: "quando più sono in adversità tanto più mi fortifico di anima. // the more I am in adversity, the more I strengthen my soul." So this is another factor to consider. It's possible he saw the situation with Della Rovere as just another adversity he had to face, and with his tenacity, intelligence, and most importantly, with time, he could overcome it. 3. Another possible factor, but this one is only my personal assessment after reading Alvisi and some of the documents he exposes there, is that both Rodrigo and Cesare display a difficulty in understanding not everyone was as cold-headed and pragmatic as they were. It's evident in their actions, they never had much, if any, trouble putting their personal dislikes aside, and working with their enemies, if it meant they would reach a certain goal they wanted, and/or if it avoided needless conflict or bloodshed. However, not everyone is capable of rising above their feelings, and in this case prejudices, and work like that with people they see as enemies. It was the case of Florence and Venice, for example. Every single conversation the Borgia men had with these two city-States made it painfully clear no agreement would ever happened between them. They would much rather damned themselves and their cities than to genuinely try to work with men they suspected of being marranos and who they saw as being beneath them. It was personal, deeply personal, and to a point just irrational, too. But Rodrigo and Cesare did not seemed to grasp that, like the idea of acting against one's own interest simply out of personal dislike or prejudice didn't register inside their minds, it was just preposterous to them (I agree! dsdjsdjsj). With the right terms, surely an agreement can be reached, no matter how they feel about us, that's what they seem to think, and it's a bit funny, and sad to observe. And if I'm correct here, then Cesare helping Della Rovere might have carried some of this mentality, too. Him thinking: yes, of course, Della Rovere hates me and my family, but not to his own detriment, right? (wrong, just as like in the cases of Venice and Florence, but he later learned that the hard way) and this thinking made him conclude they could work together, despite of any hatred. 4. And finally, the last factor, which I see it as the final nail the coffin, sort-to-speak: His impatience. In the middle of all this papal business, and him fighting for his life, Cesare was also receiving daily news from the Romagna, and after Pope Pius's death, the situation went from bad to worse, his dukedom was being attacked by the men he had ousted from those cities (instead of having had them executed, as it was the norm of his times) with the full support of Venice and Florence in doing so, and only a few cities, like Cesena, were able to withstand these attacks. This is what I think made him desperate. We have to keep in mind Cesare was a man of action. Sitting idle watching his project, one that seems to have been dear to him beyond just mere ambition, wasn't how he did things, and it had to be pure agony for him to be in a position where he couldn't do much. He was still ill, he couldn't organize his men well, he was pretty much trapped at the Castel Sant'Angelo since the one time he tried to leave Rome, the Orsinis almost caught him, and if they caught him, he was a dead man, him and everyone with him. And he didn't had papal authority, only with that would the attack of these cities stop and only with that could he leave Castel Sant'Angelo and finally do something, so he needed a Pope elected as soon as possible, too, even one like Della Rovere. This hurry, this agony, combined with the other factors mentioned above, very likely might have made him overlook some details about his particular situation, misunderstanding Della Rovere’s nature, and underestimating this man’s hatred for him and his family.

Personally, I believe he should have stalled the Conclave for as long as possible, and waited a more favourable papal outcome for him. Sure, it involved other risks. The main one losing all of the Romagna, but here's the thing: the Romagna was basically lost to him anyways. That region belonged to the Church and to papal rule, and Cesare's control over it came from his position as Gonfaloniere of the Church, but imo, that wasn't a position he could have kept. Popes tended to appoint this position to men close to them, family members preferably, because it was an important and influential position, and they needed someone they could trust, and whose interestes would be aligned with them and their papacy. Maybe there is a precedent of a Pope letting the son of the previous Pope in this position, instead of changing it for someone inside their own circle, and nothing bad happened either lol, but no example comes to my mind right now. And in any case, I don't think they were quite in the same situation as Cesare. Cesare's situation was kind of unique, too. He was a beloved and popular ruler, and this little fact, whether he realized it or not, made him even more of a threat to any Pope who wanted to have full control over the Papal States. It created a conflict of power where the Gonfaloniere's influence in the Romagna would have been stronger than that of the Pope himself, which could lead to dangerous situations. With a decent amount of money, the right partisans, and the people's support (who always had anti-papal feelings to being with) Cesare, if he wanted to, could very easily strike up a rebellion against papal authority. No clever Pope, surely not Della Rovere, would have wanted to have that hanging over their heads. That's way too much power for a person to have over them and their papacy. So the Romagna wasn't something possible for him to keep, unless we consider other possbilities, but that's another topic, the point is: at least with a favourable Pope, one like Pius, Cesare could have tried to secure some cities, as well as some fortresses in the lines of the Romagna, Umbria and Tuscany regions. I think that's something he could have achieved with a favourable Pope, creating a new duchy for him and his family, not as Gonfaloniere, but as the Pope's vassal perhaps. But, maybe he didn't considered that, or maybe he had info that didn't came down to us which made this scenario not an option, or info which made him feel confident with his decision with Della Rovere, as usual, this is another theme where there's many things we will never know for sure, but I hope this helped a bit into shedding a light on this confusing, frustrating event in Cesare's life. (And I don't remember that scene, anon??? lol is that the one where Della Rovere is already pope, and he wants to humiliate Cesare further so he brings him naked and in chains to his rooms? and then proceeds to take advantage of the situation, forcing Cesare to kiss him? that one? that's the only scene that comes to my mind, and I have to say I felt pretty disgusted watching it. I guess it's another example of the poor taste of much of Fontana's writing, he really seems to like taking things to an extreme and always enter this sadistic, twisted territory with his characters that really is not my thing. On the other hand, it made me appreciate Mark as an actor even more, because it's not every actor who could have put that scene off, among so many others tbh, without looking utterly ridiculous, and failing to convey any emotions to the viewer. I felt very sad for Cesare there, in Fontana's world, Cesare was a victim of rape in the past, and in that scene with Della Rovere, he was again at a vulnerable position, without any power, and being force to kiss this man who had his life and his future on his hands. It's again, a extreme and sadistic take of the real psychological torture Della Rovere seems to have had enjoyed inflicting on irl!Cesare once he was pope Giulio II.)