#Imperfect!Player

[biancatronic]

not to sound mean but you shaming or judging or whatever to the amount of god players making recently? like yeah sure. i kinda get but keep in mind that the writers who are making these are not making them godly too op to the point it's a mary sure level... should have said something differently or else how you word things sounds like your secretly judging the people that make these kind of work/content (i am not shaming your imperfect!player concept, i do think it's interesting since honestly us players playing m:pn varies.)

I was criticizing someone who called the players I see Mary sue, and as much as my choice of words is bad and maybe the people who write god players will find me boring and nay, no I don't hate them and their god players I was just tired of some people thinking that every character is a Mary Sue and all sorts of things I see that a lot in the Sonic fandom and stuff but I didn't want to cause that bad impression, I was kind of nervous because sometimes I'm afraid to say something and if judged as boring and ignorant no i'm not that kind of person i was frustrated at the time so i apologize to everyone who thinks i hate godly players and all badass i was just mad at people who call everything mary sue , after all, the imperfect player inspired by a sailor moon reddit post where some prefer the anime protagonist as imperfect since in the manga and crystal is badass and an attack ends everything, I also like opposite things and I miss d and a dramatic and serious content in madcom I'm not villainizing anyone, sorry for giving an opinion like that

[meteorstricken]

I want to take a moment to speak frankly and somewhat personally. Historically, I've praised FFXVI for having an excellent trauma narrative, and for the most part, I still think that's true.

But in this moment, during the final fight with Ultima, I feel it falls short. Clive tells Ultima that he could have never known suffering and implies that if he had, as humanity has, that he'd know that suffering results in togetherness and strength.

In most trauma survivor communities, it's considered a grave taboo and even outright cruel to suggest that one owes their strength to suffering. It's considered a form of toxic positivity. In those selfsame communities, one anecdote you might hear repeated from a great number of trauma-informed clinicians is that part of what makes trauma so terrible is that survivors are not infrequently abandoned, sabotaged, or preyed upon as a direct result of the horrors that befall them--even blamed for it--and tragically, by the very shoulders that should have been there for support. By the very hands that should have lifted them up. That is, anguish and suffering often beget more of the same and bring alienation, despair, and learned helplessness.

Clive is wrong here about his well-supported experience being the norm, and he's dead wrong to connect togetherness and strength as symptomatic of having truly suffered. While I can certainly point to a cohesive string of story events that tell why he ultimately came to rely on this line of thinking, as a trauma survivor myself...this last fight always stings, because I invariably start to feel like I too am on the receiving end of his condemnation. Some of the things Clive says to Ultima are things that people have said to me in the past nearly verbatim. (I have since received apologies from those individuals as they've become better educated, but... their words still haunt me.)

That is no small part of where I found my "sympathy for the devil", so to speak.

And if you want an idea of what trauma recovery might sometimes come to feel like when, all too often, you've received the opposite of support--when the very people, communities, and institutions meant to ensure your survival and recovery have instead turned on you, betraying their intended purpose; when your strength and will to live renew or persist but by your own stubbornness and unwillingness to stay down...well...It's a thing that can wax bitter, counterdependent, and full of rage.

[minophus]

2-S is so important to the overall theme of love in ultrakill andnobody.even talks about it

[rpgbabe]

i wish more adults would be more willing to give different things a genuine shot n let go of their biases >.<

[dullahandyke]

Guys I'm having a fun time:) last night I was doubtful bcos I was in a modern art mood but I have been won over by the beauty of paintings. Have one

[ID: a cropped photograph of Domino! by Frank Bamley, a painting which depicts two maids playing a game of dominos.]

[lith-myathar]

.

[pinejay]

guys u would not believe the level of telepathy and prophetic vision i have for my mom's actions. tonight at vb i set her on the first contact, she went to take the option, and i just Knew she was gonna try to roll it short and miss, so when she swung into the net, i was right there ready to get the ball off the net and over while everyone else already gave up on the play lmao 😭😭 reminds me of when we were playing a tournament together last year, my mom peeled off the net to pass a short ball but i Knew she was gonna pass it too low for our slow setter. so i ran up right next to her from far away (i was middle back in that point) and perfectly set the ball immediately off her like 2 inches high pass lmao. no one can say i don't know my mom, even better than she knows herself sometimes

[thedragonagelesbian]

im having Thoughts about doing return to ostagar & morrigan’s personal quest back-to-back, particularly with dru & morrigan starting to hook up on the journey from the brecilian forest to ostagar........ mayhaps i shall write them up

[shiny-jr]

from POMEFIORE

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: Hoping its not too out of character.

Ignihyde   |   Pomefiore   |   Scarabia

Perfume. The carefully sealed envelope reeked of it, like the sweet smell of lavender with spice. The envelope containing the message looked like something you would find when getting an invitation to a ball or a wedding. The envelope was pristine, and the wax sealing it was done so perfectly without a single awkward edge.

It almost looked unnatural with how perfect it appeared. The thick beige parchment was cut evenly, and not a blot of ink strayed from the elegantly curved cursive words that looked like ribbons upon the page. Looks could be deceiving. It was beautiful, but as you might've already guessed, the interior didn't entirely match what was hidden beneath the surface.

To my darling player,

I am at fault and take full responsibility for my actions.

All I've ever wished for, was to admire you. You are the epitome of magnificence, divinity that I can only dream to one day achieve but knowing I will never truly reach. There's an otherworldly sort of allure to you, which drew me in far too close. Much like the man who enhanced himself with wings of wax, but flew too close to the sun so his wings melted and he met a terrible fate. You are the sun, and I was that reckless fool with fake wings.

I allowed myself to get too close, tainting your light with my imperfect presence. Your grace was the warm sunlight on my skin, when everything around me was a horrible darkness. To think, I attempted to put out that light. It was nearly diminished. For that, I should be burned. I'm sorry, so so sorry.

I've thought long and hard on what I could possibly say to you, what sort of response could be adequate enough considering what you mean to me and the delicate situation. It didn't take long for me to arrive to the answer: no response is fitting. It doesn't matter if I pen a letter long enough to rival the river of tears I shed, coat the envelope in gold and ink of silver, with a message that would have moved the seven themselves to weep. It does not change the betrayal that occurred. I betrayed the trust you gave me, and shattered it into millions of pieces. However, know that I'll be on my hands and knees piecing it back together again, even if the shards cause me to bleed, you are worth it.

The stabbing sensation on my skin would be nothing compared to the one in my heart that I feel when I consider the fact that you might despise me. There's nothing more I would want than to see your face, hold your hands and feel the warmth of your skin that's so unlike the coldness of your vessel. Requesting a meeting would be imperious, as I have no right to ask you of this. But if I could, I would love to see you and discuss what comes next, perhaps over lunch. This is just a thought, a wish of mine, but one you are not required to fulfill.

I'd love to believe that I know you and your vessel better than anyone else could even dream of understanding, but I know that is far from the truth. Even as I pampered and polished your precious doll, your secrets continue to escape me. Did you ever hear me, when I brushed and washed Yuu's hair? When I took their freezing cold hands and painted their nails? When kneeled down in front of them to polish their shoes? When I adorned the best luxuries of brand accessories on their body?

I would kneel down to no one else.

There was always this wish, a dream of mine, that one day I might perhaps one day get to pamper you. Not Yuu. But you. Is that a scandalous desire?

Your hands would be warm, and I would hold them as I file your nails. Your arm wouldn't be so rigid and mechanical, you could actually extend it as I slather a creamy scented lotion along your skin. And if you do desired, I could lift your head and apply lipstick to your lips... This is just the process I commonly used while your vessel was under my care.

Although, I would gladly take up the responsibility of nursing you back to health, or any other role you would give me. There are countless things I can accomplish for you. I commonly deal in potent poisons, but I can just as well deal in healing and comforting. I'm skilled in self-defense and various forms of magic, so I can be your companion to protect you from everything that would wish you harm. You know of my business in acting and singing, so even if you wanted nothing else I could be there to entertain or serenade you. I only wish to be with you again, even though I know I'm underserving. I'm selfish.

If you want nothing more, then I have to be satisfied knowing I was in your thoughts for a brief moment. A twisted part of me wants your mind to be plagued by thoughts of me, just as my mind and heart is full of you.

I have to remind myself, that by getting too close I risk being burnt. But, at this point, I do not care for my own safety. I only care for yours, and I do this to keep my sanity. I truly admire you so much, that I cannot adore you from afar behind a rope like sculpture in a museum. I have to stand nearby, inspect your beauty, polish you to a shine, and value you like the priceless treasure that you are. Should someone threaten to chip off even the slightest speck on you, forcing you through more suffering...

I will shatter them into a million pieces, to preserve your peace.

Yours,

Vil Schoenheit

The wonderful aromatic smell that filled your nose brought back some not so pleasant memories. The smell of the earth beneath your feet, the scent of dew collected on every still surface, but above all were fragrant tangs that immediately alerted you to any nearby presence of a student belonging to Pomefiore.

They had chased you through those deep dark woods, like a pack of rabid hounds tracking and hunting a poor wounded rabbit. Besides their shouts and footfall, their perfume gave them away. There was one in particular which you only caught a whiff of only when you had too closely encountered the dormleader. The scent of lavender and spice hit your nose, the same fragrance on the letter.

"That reeks! Burn it!" A certain feline hissed, covering his little black nose with his paws. You swore the fragrance was beginning to form a migraine at the front of your skull. If the smell was strong for you, it must've been much worse for Grim since he had a superior sense of smell.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if the smell wasn't that strong and it wasn't the particular scent. Like vanilla or freshly baked bread. If that were the case, Grim might've insisted on keeping it or even be tempted to take a bite out of the sheet.

But it was lavender and spice. So the letter was tossed into a corner several feet away, left to an unknown fate that you would ultimately decide later. When you glanced back to Grim, you saw him holding and sniffing another letter.

For a long moment his sniffed the rolled up paper, his black nose twitching as he was likely just searching for another gift to claim as a snack. After a few seconds, he discarded it, sliding it over to you before he opted to dig through the pile like a raccoon digging into a heap of trash. "Meh, this one smells boring."

"Boring, huh?"

Boring wouldn't exactly be your choice of adjectives to describe this letter. It wasn't an envelope, it was a scroll tied by ribbon, attached to an arrow. An arrow, of all things, was likely the messenger for this message. Thankfully, this one didn't smell of anything. Even without a fragrance to match to a profile, the arrow was a dead giveaway.

Opening it up and using your hands to smooth out the curled edges, you blatantly ignored the wax seal over the ribbon. Once it was fully unsealed, a few single flower petals drifted down from the paper. Just another mess you would sweep up later and decide whether to dispose of it or not, like the first letter from the dormleader. For this one you were a pinch anxious. The sender was not like the others who came before.

Trickster,

It relieves me to see that you are finally safe.

To see you rest and heal in tranquility, nothing steadies my anxiously beating heart more than knowing you are sheltered. Well guarded by a trio of ghosts and the courageous feline Grim, I have no need to stress over your wellbeing with them acting as your valiant knights in shining armor! Although, I would also wish to join their ranks, blessed by your grace and fit to serve as your shield. However...

I am conscious enough to know that I am nowhere near fitting, no matter how much I may wish to reach out and shield you from every evil. In that most vital moment, I had failed to recognize you. I may have spared you from the sharpness of my blade, but I couldn't have guarded you from the suffering that was to come afterwards.

I'm so deeply and truly sorry. Many sleepless nights have followed, since and even before our first fateful encounter in those woods of the Pomefiore estate. Before our encounter, I was conflicted. I wanted to detest you, but I could not, I thought there must be a reason this was all occurring. I couldn't slumber peacefully, so long as I knew there was turbulence surrounding your beloved vessel. After our encounter, I couldn't get the vision of you fragile, frightened, and wounded, out of my mind. Raising a blade against you, who were a stranger shrouded in infamy, made my very heart stop.

Now I know why I was so unexplainably drawn to you. It was not due to the wild frenzy that overtook the entire campus, or a burning hatred to destroy, or even my own desire to discover answers I desperately wanted, although that last one may have played a role. The reason as to I was so enticed by you, a cunning 'imposter,' was because my heart recognized you. It must have been my very soul that pulled me towards you, and perhaps my own nature as well. My body recognized you, my heart and my soul led me to you, but I was blinded by my sorrows.

Throughout the few years I've had on this wonderful earth, I've seen countless peoples, and you are unlike any of which I've seen. In the places I've been, I have witnessed poetry be written by masters of literacy, melodies sung by the most angelic voices ever heard on a stage, and devoted worshippers in holy places kneel in solemn prayer. Somehow you as a single being, or entity, encompass all those elements into one. My aim is to admire beauty, and I see beauty in its finest form when I look at you.

I truly understand what you mean to me, and to others.

But at the same time, you remain a mystery. And I believe I'm speaking for all those who admire you when I say this. We could only dream of truly understanding you, when we only had Yuu.

So, I try to make sense of it all in what I do understand, in the beautiful things I adore that I associate with you who I cherish. In literature, music, photography, I see you in everything all at once. When I read poetic lines, I think I could share it with you. When I hear beautiful music, I imagine you might enjoy listening to the tune too. When I discover stunning sceneries, I plan to bring you there someday to share a moment with you.

Now, I can make sense of it. I understand how the poets of old felt as they penned the love and awe they felt towards the Fairest Queen. It's a rare sentiment that cannot easily be put into words, a feeling as if it held my delicate heart and squeezed when I so much as thought of you. When a song and its composer can bring an audience to tears, I understand that now too. Hearing your voice for the first time, formed a knot in my throat that prevented me from saying much. Catching that first glimpse of you, was like gazing at a perfect painted portrait hanging in a museum.

My dearest player, I am a Hunt. I am naturally inquisitive by nature, and my fondness for you comes just as naturally. You may consider it wrong, but I will continue to offer my loyalty even if you may not accept it.

My aim is to one day unlock your secrets, solve your mysteries, and understand you fully, learn what makes you tick and what drives you forward. Perhaps when the day comes when you've forgiven me for my crimes, I can proudly stand in your presence and recite the poems I have written in your name. I could admire you everyday from then on, and remind you everyday of your worth. Then, I will protect you, from all harm, and I will not allow myself to fail you once again. This is a promise.

Should you need me, I will be there.

Yours,

Rook Hunt

There was something that felt... off. Compared to some of the previous letters, these were rather tame. Of course, there was the desperation and fascination evident in their words captured by the ink, but it was nowhere near as extreme as other cases.

Although, it was still chilling, to read the thoughts they penned.

In your hand you held the arrow the letter had been connected to, feeling its thin shape and the sharpened head at its tip that nearly pricked your finger. The vice dormleader had excellent aim, and had he not been so kind, arrows like this one in your hand could've easily been driven through your flesh and caught you against a tree where you would've been helpless in their grasps.

And yet, despite the opportunities he had, he didn't let a single weapon touch you. All it would take was one arrow, one moment and he could've ended you where you stood. But he spared you. However, there's the lingering doubt that maybe the primary reason he did it was he hoped you had answers to the malfunctioning vessel. You couldn't be sure exactly why he spared you, when everyone had wanted to torment and imprison you or worse.

Beside you, there's a large crunch and a content purr. When you look over, there's Grim, happily munching away on an apple he held with his little paws. He sank his fangs into the fruit, content that he finally found an offering that appeased him. In front of him was a small basket, filled with more juicy red apples.

"These are great! And, even though I was the one who found them, I'll let you have some!" Grim picked up another apple from the basket, sticking his claws into the red peel and offering it with his little grin. Nevermind the fact that these were probably meant as a gift for you and not for him, but you didn't mind. They would have likely ended up in the trash anyways, at least someone could enjoy them.

"You should really have one. You haven't eaten all day."

"I'm not hungry, but thanks. You can have them." Ever since everything happened, you weren't too keen on accepting gifts, especially if they were consumable. For now, the only places you'd accept food from, was the cafeteria you'd venture too at the dead of night when no one was there, or Sam's shop.

In the spot of the basket where Grim had removed the apple, there was a white layer at the bottom of the basket. Perplexed, you reached in and found an envelope hidden by the piled apples.

Unsurprisingly, the envelope smelled of sweet things, apples, cinnamon, and freshly baked pies. The envelope itself was nothing special, it had no intricate wax seal or marking. It was loosely sealed shut by a brown piece of string, and covered in some white and pink apples blossoms.

The inside was less impressive, more authentic, which was refreshing in a way. Smooth cursive flowed into slightly choppy print scrawled out in uneven lines, before eventually returning back to cursive at the end of some sentences. It appears parts were rushed judging by the blotted ink stains at multiple periods. The apples were a clue as to who the sender may be, but why would the letter be hidden in a gift?

Dear Player,

If you're reading this, that means my letter got through.

Where do I even start? It seems right that I first say sorry. I'm sorry. It sounds like a load of bull, but I am sorry. Apologizing in all these other ways, won't make this any better, so, I thought this might help. I'm gonna be completely honest with you, no lies, no tricks, just the blunt truth. I'm not going to be showing you these pretty sides I polished to impress and to mask all the ugly. I'll tell you everything that's been going on. That's something only I have the guts to do.

The reason I hid this letter was because Vil and Rook have been checking anything I want to write to you. They want to keep up this positive front, they wanna at least pretend to be perfect enough to be near you. At least, that's what I think. Although I know we won't ever come close to that.

Instead of trying to write a real and honest letter for you, it feels like I was writing some essay for Professor Trein to grade. I'd have to write and write, and even if the grammar was right, the message wasn't. They want to make you think everything's okay, when it's not. I can only imagine what elegant crap they were spewing in their own fancy letters, while we're actually all a mess. We've been like this since Yuu broke down. I try to understand them, and in a way I do, but sometimes they freak me out. Yeah, I got my own problems trying to comprehend all this chaos, but they're different.

Is everyone else in the other dorms this extreme? This miserable and on the verge of breaking? Maybe you won't believe me, or maybe you'll realize that there's some truth to what I'm saying. Here, in Pomefiore, I can only tell you what I've seen. These days, Rook's smile seems strained, like he's about to snap, his eyes are sharp and watchful. The only time his smile is normal is when he's looking at some photo, but he won't ever let me see what it is. Vil, well, the only sign he's still alive and kicking are the packages that come in for him, new makeup and all that stuff, things he's using to craft that perfect mask. I did see him one night out in the hall, I swear there was mascara down his face but I was too put off to approach when he was like that.

Don't ever tell them I told you all this. Vil would probably skin me alive and wear me as a robe, and Rook... I don't want to think about what he would do... I'm kidding by the way, but seriously, don't ever tell them. I told you I would be honest to you, so here's my reason. I thought that maybe telling you all this would score me points with you, get you to trust me again. Even if this is a rotten way to go about it, I don't care.

I am rotten, and I won't hide it like them.

If I can't even be honest with you, then do I really deserve a second chance at all?

Scratch that. I don't deserve a second chance at all after everything that happened. What I did was downright terrible, but I'm trying my damnedest to be deserving again. And I won't stop trying, even if part of me thinks it's useless. I never cared for Yuu, the only reason I acted for them was because it was you behind them. My goal is to eventually be beside you, the real you.

Although, a basket of apples is a crummy way to go about things, but think of it like a peace offering. Just cause I can't get word to you, don't mean I give up. I'm not giving up. Ever. Everyone's going about their own roundabout ways of mending things. If you want to hear more, I'll gladly tell you. I don't think anyone else would tell you the truth of what's happening, because in a sense everyone wants to appeal to you with the best image of themselves they can possible portray. Don't believe all the hogwash they send you. If whoever sends something and seems to be stable, they're not. Not completely.

I'm awfully ashamed to admit it, but I'm not okay. Not since everything started, and not since everything went to hell when shit hit the fan. I'm not okay without you, and I got myself to blame for that.

This letter is helping. The thought of communicating with you again, even if I can't see your face or hear your voice and its reduced to words on paper, it's more than I could ask for. So, if you want me to spill the beans, just ask. If not, if there's no response, well, I'll get a bit of comfort thinking you might've read this. Besides, I have hope with each attempt I'll make. I'm not just rottenly selfish, I'm stubborn to a fault. And if I have to knock down someone else's chances to get closer, then that's fine by me.

All you gotta do is talk to me.

Until then, hoping to speak to you soon,

Epel Felmier

[funeral]

The idea that language is a game at which some players are more skilled than others has a bearing on the vexed relationship between loneliness and speech. Speech failures, communication breakdowns, misunderstandings, mishearings, episodes of muteness, stuttering and stammering, word forgetfulness, even the inability to grasp a joke: all these things invoke loneliness, forcing a reminder of the precarious, imperfect means by which we express our interiors to others. They undermine our footing in the social, casting us as outsiders, poor or non-participants.

Olivia Laing, The Lonely City

[vexwerewolf]

I’m suddenly getting swathes of Lancer hate across my feed… Has something happened in the fandom? “Union is ______ how could they paint them as even remotely good. They allow _____, and I hate the devs they are ______. The whole thing is just 40k with communist veneer”.

Like am I taking crazy pills…? I thought that all of the problems were literally like right there on the tin “we are a utopia in progress! We will obtain it by any means possible even if it means being everything we say we are not/fighting against. As the player you decide what is right. How much will you ignore for someone else’s idea of utopia?” Like doesn’t it mean all the tools to actually change are there and that is the HOPE aspect of all of this?

(Sorry if this in incoherent grammar is a weak point and I pulled something in my back simply standing up. Now I am sad and crook backed in spasmodic pain)

This isn't an argument I feel super enthusiastic about stepping into, because it gets the most annoying sort of people in your mentions eager to maliciously misrepresent what you say.

However, yeah, there are some pretty terrible readings of Union floating around. I'd invoke "media literacy" because think that a lot of this comes from people not really holistically engaging with the fictional future history of Lancer, but also from a sort of dogmatic purism that requires future societies to be flawless, else they're irredeemable.

It is important to note that ThirdComm is the direct descendant of two highly imperfect societies. FirstComm was formed as a response to the Three Great Traumas of discovering the Massif Vaults (and thus that they were the inheritors of a fallen world), the wars over the Massif Vaults, and the discovery of the lost colonies, all of which collectively showed humanity how close it had come to total extinction.

FirstComm decided that it had a responsibility to ensure that humanity never risked extinction again. It manifested this by trying to colonize every habitable planet it could find, pumping out ship after ship to seed the cosmos with as much human life as it possibly could. This led to problems when it encountered civilizations like the Karrakin Federation and the Aun, who had been carrying humanity's torch just fine by themselves, thank you very much.

SecComm was an Anthrochauvinist fascist state. The book defines it thusly:

We can see a lot of Anthrochauvinist historical romanticism in the mech naming schemes of Harrison Armory, SSC and IPS-N - the fact that Harrison Armory names its mechs after great military leaders of pre-Fall Earth history, IPS-N does the same with naval figures, and SSC uses the names of Earth animals. Even the GMS Everest is named for a mountain on Earth. It's very Cradle-centric.

Anthrochauvinism was, to be clear, largely just an excuse for colonialism and hegemony. Atrocities could easily be justified under by stating that whoever they're being committed against were a threat to the Continuance of Humanity - a term that SecComm got to define.

It's also at this point that we have to zoom in from broad sociopolitical points to address one very specific piece of history: the New Prosperity Agreement. This was signed to prevent the outbreak of a Second Union-Karrakin War, and mandated that the Karrakin Houses would maintain privileged levels of autonomy within Union, and that they would be granted colonial rights to the entire Dawnline Shore. This agreement, struck in 3007u, basically defines much of the current political situation today.

ThirdComm was a final and inevitable reaction to the atrocities, abuses and excesses of SecComm. The unspeakable horrors of Hercynia were the spark, but I need to stress how little Hercynia actually mattered in the larger Revolution - at the start of NRfaW, it's explicitly stated that almost nobody in the galaxy even knows where it is, let alone what happened there. The Revolution was a generalized response to SecComm's tyranny, with no single rallying cry.

The Revolution might also have failed entirely, but for a critical error by Harrison Armory: pissing off the Karrakin Trade Baronies. After getting kicked off Cradle, the Anthrochauvinist Party organised a fleet at Ras Shamra to try and retake Cradle. Simultaneously, however, they were attempting to secure protectorate agreements to steal worlds in the Dawnline Shore out from under the KTB. Putting these two together and making five, the KTB assumed that the fleet was pointed at Karrakis, and started the First Interest War.

The First Interest War initially favoured the KTB. They smashed the fleet above Ras Shamra and simultaneously conquered the moon of Creighton in the Dawnline Shore. However, they underestimated just how ruthless Harrison I was - he "retook" Creighton by relativistic bombardment, and then conquered four of the 12 worlds of the Dawnline Shore with mechanised chassis, a technology the KTB had not adopted and had no counter for.

To prevent further loss of life, Union was eventually forced to broker a peace agreement that saw Harrison I handing himself over to Union justice in return for Harrison Armory's continued sovereignty, and the KTB joining Union as a full member state.

So, with that historical context out of the way, let me get to the second part of this absurd essay I'm writing.

Third Committee Union isn't a civilization that arose from whole cloth. It's shaped by five thousand years of Union history, six thousand years of post-Fall history, and six thousand years of pre-Fall history before that. It is, ultimately, an extremely well-thought-out and well-worldbuilt fictional polity, in that all of its imperfections come from traceable root causes in its history.

Why does ThirdComm permit the abuses of the KTB? Because to stop them, it would likely have to go to war, and such a war would butcher billions. Worse, to do so, it would probably have to ally with Harrison Armory and make horrific concessions.

Why does ThirdComm permit the expansionism and cryptochauvinism of the Armory? Because to stop them, it would likely have to go to war, and such a war would butcher billions. Worse, to do so, it would probably have to ally with the KTB and make horrific concessions.

Nobody in CentComm likes that Harrison Armory are empire-building expansionists. Nobody in CentComm likes that the KTB has a hereditary nobility and enforces blockades against planets that rebel against it. The problem is that ThirdComm is, in historical terms, still relatively new. They've been around five hundred years, and compared to the 1600 years that SecComm was around and the 2800 years FirstComm existed for, that's not very much.

ThirdComm is attempting to decouple itself from the Cradle-first politics of its predecessor, and to amend the many, many atrocities committed in the name of Humanity. It is not easy to do any of these things. SecComm was defined almost entirely by the fact that if it didn't like what you were doing, it would send in the military as a first response. Every time ThirdComm chooses to do the same, its legitimacy erodes, because the mission of ThirdComm is to prove that diverse, vibrant and compassionate human civilization can exist without devolving into war and bloodshed. ThirdComm always tries diplomacy as a first response because if it doesn't, millions of people could die.

[untitledgoosegay]

re last reblog I do see fanfic culture pushing/replicating a certain model of "what trauma looks like," "how trauma works"

this is a problem across all areas of society obviously, but transformative works are, well, transformative. they're about crafting and modifying narratives where the fan-creator sees a flaw or a lack -- often for the better! don't get me wrong, I've done my fair share of "I take a hammer and I fix the canon," it's the main thing that gets my creative gears spinning -- but what happens when that "flaw" is simply a narrative not conforming to popular expectations?

some people just don't get PTSD from events that sound obviously traumatic. they're not masking, and they're not coping; they just straight-up didn't get the permanently-locked stress-response that defines PTSD. they walk away from a horrible experience going "well, that sucked, but it's over now." some people do get PTSD from events most people wouldn't find traumatic. we don't really know why some people get PTSD and others don't. but fandom has an idea of events that must be traumatizing, of a "correct" way to portray trauma. you see the problems with this lack of understanding in e.g. fans pressuring the devs of Baldur's Gate 3 to add dialogue where the player character badgers Halsin about his own feelings on his abuse -- because he must be traumatized, and his trauma must fit a certain mold and presentation of sexual trauma, under the mistaken impression that anything outside that narrow window is somehow "wrong" and disrespectful or even harmful to survivors.

take, for another example, the very common trope of a traumatized character who hates touch or sex "learning" to like touch or sex as a part of their healing process. certainly that can be healing for some people; other people will never like, or want, touch or sex, because of trauma or because they just don't. the assumption that someone who doesn't want sex or doesn't like to be touched must be traumatized, must be suffering from this perceived lack, is seriously harmful -- to asexual people, to people with sensory issues around touch, and to people for whom healing from trauma means freedom to refuse sex or touch.

and there's a secondary trope, one that's slightly more thoughtful but ultimately repeats the problem -- that once someone has learned that their boundaries will be respected, they'll feel it's safe to soften those boundaries. once they feel safe refusing touch or sex, they'll feel comfortable allowing it on their own terms. but many people don't, and many people won't! many people will simply never want to be touched, and never want sex, and they are not suffering or broken or lacking because of it. the idea that proving you'll respect someone's boundaries entitles you to test those boundaries -- the paradox is obvious, and yet this is something i've seen hurt (re-traumatize) people i care for.

people are imperfect victims. people don't heal in the ways you expect. many people have positive memories of their abuse, of their abusers. many people hurt others in the course of their trauma, in ways that can't easily be unpacked in a 5k oneshot. very few narratives of trauma and recovery actually fit the ones put forward by popular children's media and romance novels -- which are the ones I most see replicated in fandom spaces, because they provide the clearest narrative and easiest catharsis, and so they're easy and soothing to reach for.

that's not necessarily a bad thing! i am not immune to goopy romance tropes. i am not immune to teary catharsis. not every fic has to grapple with ugly realities. but there's a problem when these narratives become predominant, when people think they're accurate and realistic depictions of trauma, when the truth of trauma is unpleasant and uncomfortable, and doesn't fit any single narrative, let alone one of comforting catharsis

[tonythr]

Quick Slash is even cooler from a narrative perspective, and why I think the Nailsmith's story parallels the Pale King's

Cold take: Quick Slash is the best charm in Hollow Knight.

Slightly Warmer take: Quick Slash is the only S-tier charm that is great from both gameplay and lore perspective (aside from maybe Spell Twister).

The reason for this is that its existence is actually a

metaphor

Here, look at this.

So, Quick Slash is something that was created from a relatively big number of objects that were discarded and deemed imperfect, and that possess a collective will of wanting to fulfill their purpose.

You know what that reminds me of?

A large amount of creations: check.

Discarded as imperfect: check.

Still possessing a will to find closure: check.

Being a part of a larger, more powerful thing: check.

Having a common creator who is responsible for their creation and rejection: check.

So yeah, I think that Quick Slash's lore (or at least its description) is meant to parallel that of the Vessels'.

But I wanna talk about that last point: the creator.

It is heavily implied that the person who created and then later discarded those nails was the Ancient Nailsmith we see in the room where we get Quick Slash.

(Oh by the way I just realized that this stone ring thing on the right of that room is actually the furnace, neat.)

Judging from their Dreamnail dialogue, this Ancient Nailsmith was trying to achieve the same goal as the other, more famous Nailsmith we all know and love: creating a Pure Nail.

And you know who else was trying to create a perfect, Pure thing while discarding many other similar things that later gained a collective will?

That's right - it's the guy who is also responsible for creating those other discarded things we discussed earlier!

Ok, but what I really wanted to talk about here is how all of what I just said ties back to that other, more famous guy - The Nailsmith.

We don't know for sure how the story of the Ancient Nailsmith ended, but it feels like it exists there mainly to put an emphasis on the City's Nailsmith's story; to convey that his struggle is an important theme in this narrative (because ancient means important, ok?) And, I mean, the City's Nailsmith's story also parallels that of the Pale King's in the same manner, right?

The thing is, we already know how PK's story ended.

In trying to achieve perfection, to create an eternal Kingdom by making a Pure Vessel devoid of mind, voice and will, the Pale King doomed himself to be taken over by his regrets, by the vast emptiness of the futility of his struggles. But was it because he failed, or because that was where his story was headed all along?

What if PK succeeded? What if the Radiance was sealed forever? What if his Kingdom actually stood eternal, never to change, never to end? What if he realized he achieved his only goal in life?

And that's the part where we get to a story the ending of which is up to the player's choice.

To quote White Lady, only two obvious outcomes there are from such a thing.

The first is an honorable death by the fruits of his labor.

If we choose to kill the Nailsmith with the Pure Nail, he dies happy, knowing that his life's goal is accomplished and having gained all the satisfaction he could from it.

The second I find preferable, a new passion.

If the Nailsmith doesn't feel the finishing blow of the Pure Nail, he is left unsatisfied. But, while trying to resolve that unsatisfaction, he eventually finds something (and someone) that gives him a new calling, a new thing to create, a new reason to live.

And, while those are both equally valuable, equally canonic outcomes, don't you think the second one is just... better? I mean, not only does it include the achievement of the Nailsmith's goal, but it lets him live AND gives two lonely souls a partner in life! I feel like that's the thing this narrative is trying to convey. What it's trying to say about the meaning of life, about our dreams.

Maybe that was the ultimate folly of the Pale King - the inability to change. His story would've ended in the same way, regardless of whether Hallownest lasted eternally or not. He would be dead, if not by the hands of the Void, but by his own - but ultimately, by the hands of that vast emptiness of realizing that you achieved your only goal and that now all there is for you is this eternal satisfaction that slowly fades away, leaving you with nothing.

TL;DR: Quick Slash is the best because it's a metaphor for discarded vessels; perfection is overrated, try to get laid instead.

[sweetbans29]

Photograph - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Caitlin loves the way you capture her (based on THIS request)

Warnings: domestic life

Word Count: 3.1k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Ms. Queen of Domesticity is back.

There wasn't much you loved more than being behind a camera. Before starting on the Iowa media team, you would say there was nothing you loved more than being behind your camera but a certain girl was determined to change that.

Photography had always been a hobby for you - started in a middle school photography class and only grew from there. You had no idea that it would lead you to majoring in media when you got to college but thanks to a high school teacher, your dreams to pursue photography had become reality. Mr. Poole was in charge of the sports media team at your high school and saw your love for capturing the moment in a game. It wasn't just the love he saw in you, it was also in the work that you produced. You would always capture athletes in a way that humanized them - capturing the excitement and hard work that a person has put in to lead up to the exact time your shutter snaps. All the sports teams loved you, begging you to come to their games.

It was the portfolio you built and a highly regarded letter of recommendation that had you on a pretty nice scholarship to Iowa studying sports media. It had also led you to an internship and a job with your university's sports media team.

It was your freshman year where you were encouraged to apply to intern and by the end of your freshman year they were offering you a job.

Your sophomore year is when you met Caitlin. A smiley freshman who had the whole media team buzzing. You had photographed the women's basketball team when you were interning and knew them really well. If you were asked, you would say they were your favorite team to watch and capture and that didn't change when you met the freshman guard.

It was during the women's basketball season where you and Caitlin hit it off. You would notice she would always turn to you and give a little smile or make a funny face. You would capture the sweet girl in photos that would never see the light of day (not yet at least). Caitlin wasn't even sure you would snap a pic when she turned your way, mostly trying to get a reaction out of you. And she did, every single time.

It started about halfway through the season. Everyone aside from the players were required to wear masks (thanks Covid) but you didn't mind. You were one of two media team members in house to photograph the games. The second you caught the brown-haired girl turn to where you were you would capture her. You would then look up at her with a smile, hidden by your mask, and a shake of your head.

What you didn't know was that Caitlin would watch for the crinkle in your eyes signaling a smile on your lips. It would be the catalyst for the flutter in her heart and butterflies in her tummy.

After every game, she would come up to you asking for those photos. You would always act clueless.

"So, are you going to let me see them this time?" Caitlin asks. You can't help but smile at the way her baby hairs are going every which way. You bring your camera up to capture her in this imperfect moment, the moments you love the most.

"Hey!" She squeals as she flips her hair to redo it, soothing all the little strays.

"Cute," you say looking at the photo on your camera screen, you lean over to her and show it.

"That is not what I was talking about," Caitlin says with a little whine.

You hate when anyone whines but with Caitlin, it is quite adorable.

"I don't know what you are talking about," you say shutting your camera down.

"You know exactly what I am talking about," Caitlin says, eyes looking directly into yours. "The ones you take that make the corners of your eyes turn up and a pretty little smile graces yours lips underneath that mask."

You are shocked by her forwardness but don't let her get the best of you.

"Caitlin Clark," you say in all seriousness. "Are you using me for my photos?"

Caitlin laughs and you join her.

"I know you take them and I will get them out of you someday," Caitlin says.

"Sure Clark, someday," you say and are on your way.

Fast forward to the end of the season when you and Caitlin start hanging out. You were the one to ask the younger girl out but ever since, she has been the one to cling more. Usually the constant want and need for her to be with you would be overwhelming, but as your love for the girl grew, having her near you became more and more natural.

When you started dating, it was kept to the confines of your apartment or hers. It wasn't hard to do as Cait was quite the homebody and your never minded being the introverted girl you are. The two of you would spend hours curled up in your bed, wearing sweats and sweatshirts and talking about everything under the sun. It was a cold winter day during your junior year, her sophomore year when you being to talk about things that mean a little more.

You are at your apartment, Caitlin is cuddled up by your side when she goes quiet all of the sudden. You feel your girl play with the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

"What's going through that pretty little head of yours," you ask as you kiss the top of her head. She nestles her face into your arm and shoulder, inhaling the scent of your freshly washed sweatshirt.

You giggle and bring your free hand to come up to brush your fingers through her soft hair. Her face pops up, resting her head on your shoulder, finger still playing with your sleeve.

"I want a big family," she says, almost as if she is scared to say it. "I want at least 2 kids, maybe three."

You don't say anything immediately which stresses the younger girl out. You can't help but smile.

"If we had two, we each could carry one. If we have a third, then we will need to figure out who will carry," you say as you wiggle your arm out from between you and Caitlin and wrap it around her bringing her closer to you. You hand comes to rub her back.

Her arm comes to snake around your waist, fingers no longer fidgeting.

"We could have four and each carry two. Then we would have one sub for our starting 5," she says.

"Would you really want us to be outnumbered by double?" You ask, unsure how you feel about 4 kids.

Caitlin thinks about it, "I guess it would depend on how the first three are. If they came out like you, I wouldn't mind having a fourth but if we have three little me's then we might want to consider stopping at two."

You laugh and can't help but squeeze your girlfriend.

"And I will be playing pro ball while you are on the media team for my team, keeping us together. Your portfolio is already good enough to be working professionally so you could go wherever I am drafted. And you could keep taking those those photos of me that you say you don't take," Caitlin says with a little smirk.

You pinch the back of her arm and she yelps.

"Now you are definitely not seeing any of those photos," you say. Caitlin rolls her eyes, like she was ever going to see them in the first place.

"Tell me more," you say loving hearing Caitlin talk about your future.

"We would find a house in a nice neighborhood where our kids can play in the yard. And we would have a a dog, maybe two," she says.

"I want a cat," you say and you can almost hear the facial expression Cait makes.

"If you get two dogs, I get a cat," you say.

"What about one dog and no cats?" Caitlin counters.

"No," you say standing firm on owning a cat. "I should really just get a cat now, that way it will already be apart of the family."

"You don't need a cat when you have me," Caitlin says. "I am basically like a cat. I nap and cuddle you and bug you when I want food."

You laugh at her.

"If you are like a cat, I don't get why you don't want one then," you say.

She shrugs and the two of you continue talking about what like will be like after college.

It is shortly after that conversation that you are chosen by the cat distribution system. You are home to a little black kitten who has consumed a majority of your time which has Caitlin frustrated. Your time that was once spent cuddling her was now you cuddling the little black feline. As the kitten began to grow, it was like he knew he was taking you away from Caitlin and would intentionally lay on your stomach when she was over. Caitlin would complain to you and you told her that no one could replace her as your cuddle buddy, but by the stares Meatball gave her (yes you named your cat Meatball), he knew that he had won.

That was when the two of you started hanging out at her place more often which opened the door to her teammates finding out the two of you were dating. It was shortly after that both of you told your parents.

Moving on to the end of your senior year, graduation was something you were ready for. You were done with school and ready to work. You were already set up to stay with Iowa's media team for another year, two at max depending on if Caitlin was going to do a fifth year or not. The plan was for you to stick around until Caitlin declares for the draft, you would then follow her.

Capturing Caitlin her senior year was the most fun you had photographing a sport. Yes, her being your girlfriend played a part in that but her dominate performance was something that had eyes turning her way from every corners of the world. As you capture her throughout her senior year, you are beyond glad you did. It was like every other night she was breaking a record or putting up a monstrous game. It made for amazing content.

It was on Valentines Day when Caitlin had told you that she was planning on declaring for the draft.

"I think I am ready," she says as the two of you are sitting on your living room floor eating dinner by candlelight.

Caitlin wanted to take you out to a fancy restaurant that would ultimately lead you back to one of your places at the end of the night but you opted for a night in. You loved times like this with Cait, just the two of you...and Meatball. Meatball was sitting on the couch, watching the two of you.

"You think?" You ask, having a pretty good idea of what she's talking about.

"I am ready," she says. You nod.

"I just don't know if I am ready to announce it yet," she says. "Announcing it makes it real."

"It does," you say. "And it is okay that you are not ready to announce it. It is all on your timing, no one else's." You lean over to grab her hand.

"I am here with you every step of the way," you say squeezing her hand. She gives you a thankful smile.

"Me and Meatball," you say as your cat extends its paw to touch Caitlin's head. You both laugh at your furbaby.

"Thanks Meatloaf," Caitlin says removing the cats paw from her.

"Meatball," you say rolling your eyes.

"Ya, whatever," Caitlin says.

"But seriously Cait, if you are ready, I am with you," you say not wanting to brush over one of the biggest decisions of Caitlin's career.

"I love you," she says and you smile at your girl.

"I know," you say and continue eating your dinner. Caitlin looks at you expecting you to say the same thing but you don't.

"Anything else you care to add?" Caitlin asks, lifting an eyebrow.

You just look at her with a smile and chew your food. You know it bugs Caitlin when you don't tell her you love her back even though she can see it in your eyes.

"Say it," Caitlin says.

"Say what?" You poke at her. Caitlin rises from her spot and makes her way over to you but your crawl away. She comes up behind you and lifts your up from your waist. You let out a squeal as Caitlin traps you.

"Say it," Caitlin says again. When you don't tell her you love her in what she believes is a suitable time, she begins attacking you with her fingers. Laughs fall from your mouth as you try to get her to stop. You lift your hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay okay," you say. "I surrender!"

Caitlin looks at you expecting to hear the three little words but you just wiggle out of her grip and run from her.

She follows you into the bedroom where you show her just how much you love her.

Over the course of the next few months, time flies. Caitlin and the Hawkeyes worked endlessly to get back to the championship. They do, falling short of the victory. It is literal days after that when you are on a plane to New York with Caitlin and a few of her teammates to go to watch her on SNL. It is days after that she is being drafted to Indiana.

You are now settled into your shared apartment working on your portfolio. You are finally going through the shots you got of the team during the championship. It is while you are scanning through thousands of photos when Caitlin comes back from practice, plopping down beside you.

You can tell she has something to talk to you about considering she can't sit still. You hit save then turn to look at your cute girl.

"Why hello there," you say with a smile.

"I have some exciting news," she says.

"And what is that?" You ask.

"I ran into the media manager of the Fever and one thing led to another and they want to see your portfolio," she says with an unmatched excitement.

You smile at her and lean in to give her a hug.

"Always looking out for me," you say into her.

"Always," she says proud of herself.

You went and met with the Fever media team and they had offered you the job on the spot. It was unexpected but after seeing the way you had captured Caitlin, they knew it was a no brainer.

You had started with the team the first official game of the season. Working for the Fever media team while Caitlin was playing for them was the exact dream that the two of you had talked about that one winter day.

It is halfway through the season when the league goes on Olympic break. It is only a few days in when you decide to drop a little photo dump of Caitlin from a recent game where she stole your camera and took some photos for herself. When you posted the dump, the comment section blew up with comments. A lot of them talking about how Caitlin always looks so cute in your photos, several of them talking about how you photograph Cait the best. Then there are a select few comments that end up blowing up and sending her fanbase down a spiral. It is the two comments that begin the exposure of your relationship.

"I think the world knows," you say as you laugh at some of the comments.

Caitlin comes up behind you looking over her shoulder. Her chin finds your shoulder as her arms snake around you. You hold your phone as you let her scroll through the comments.

"Surprised it hasn't blown up sooner," she says and you laugh.

"What do you mean by that?" You ask.

"I mean, if you look at any other photo someone takes of me it is nothing compared to how you capture me. It is like we are always in sync," she says proud of you.

"Ya, I guess that makes sense," you say. The comments are all cute and for both of yours relationship.

"I am like Spiderman and you are like Peter Parker," Cait says and you let out a hearty laugh. She continues, "You know what I mean. How Peter captures Spidey in all the right angles because he is Spidey. We are one and the same."

You laugh at your girls explanation and turn around to give her a kiss.

"That was a great connection there babe," you say and she smiles down at you.

It is not long after fans start digging up old Iowa photos that you took of Caitlin. Before you know it, the two of you are public with your relationship.

It is after Caitlin's rookie year that you finally decide to open up the treasure trove of photos you have of Caitlin looking at you through the camera. You make a post of how proud of her you are finishing up her first year in the W. You dig deep, all the way back to some of you first games capturing the Hawkeyes.

When Cait sees them, the first time is on her Instagram in a tagged post. Her eyes go wide as she yells your name in your apartment. She immediately goes to hunt you down and finds you giggling on the couch with Meatball napping on your lap.

"You didn't," she says staring at you with a playful grin.

"Oh but I did," you say matching her grin. She jumps on your earning a sprint and glare from Meatball.

"Show me more," she begs and you finally give in, showing her all of the photos you have of her looking at you with loving eyes.

AN: Okay but I am here for Meatball. Let me know what you think about this media reader. And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[some-triangles]

I am now at a level of obsession with Disco Elysium where I am watching at least a little bit of every playthrough I come across. Last time this happened was with Undertale almost a decade ago. With UT this helped me get a very thorough handle on the way the game was designed and with the subtler bits of player manipulation. DE is not subtle about anything and so instead I'm getting insights into the people playing it, particularly as it spreads beyond the youtube leftist bubble.

The one I'm having the most fun with right now is by this guy named Brady, who is a therapist specializing in addiction. The fun part is not so much his insight into Harry as an addict - again, the game is not subtle - but his absolute discomfort with politics. He refuses to engage with any of the ideological choices, and that makes the game a bit of a bumpy ride for him. It's particularly striking because he's willing to read into everything else that goes on in Harry's brain - he breaks out his Johari windows and his CBT flowcharts and pins the butterfly right to the corkboard - but he shuts down when the game asks him to pick a side.

To extrapolate wildly from one dude's hangups, I think this is just part of the deal with therapy. The aim of a therapist is to make the subject more functional (particularly these days, when if you're lucky insurance will pay for ten sessions, and you better document exactly what worksheets you made your patients fill out) - and being functional means being able to be happy and productive in the society you're currently living in. If I go to a therapist and say I'm bummed out about all the murdering my government is doing they will suggest I stop watching the news, or, if I'm lucky, they'll try to help me figure out why I feel guilt about things I can't control. Delving into the whys and hows of said murdering is actively counterproductive.

This is not to say that therapy is inherently bad, or, like, counterrevolutionary, because making you a more functional person does help with a lot of things, including your ability to help others. It's just a useful thing to keep in mind when therapy and politics bump into each other. I read this paper when I was googling ABA for podcast reasons and it stuck with me. The thesis boils down to: because the world is imperfect and people need skills to live in it we should continue to torture children, and we don't have enough research to conclude that torture could be traumatic. This is on one level reasonable and on one level insane. It depends where you stand, and whether you think "ability to express affection towards parents" is worth that kind of intervention. But the authors wouldn't construe this as a political argument.

Anyway: with all this in mind, I very much recommend reading "The Saint of Bright Doors", which we will be covering on wizards vs lesbians soon.

[pistatsia]

Shidou Ryusei: as free as a bird

Shidou is uncomfortable, imperfect. He's vulgar, he's gross, he's blatantly cruel, and he's incapable of compromise. He's hyper-excitable, constantly ready to fight and even looking forward to that brawl. He switches between moods like a kaleidoscope, and what falls out in that kaleidoscope is unpredictable.

Shidou has absolutely no understanding of morality.

This is especially evident in his encounter with Kunigami.

He has absolutely no understanding of the concept of protecting someone simply for no gain. Trying to protect someone heroically, purely because of an understanding that it's wrong, is ridiculous to Shidou. Shidou has only "his" and "others", and that "his" so far includes only Sae, as shown in the episode where he tries to turn Sendou's face into mush.

Nor does he understand the moralization that it is wrong to hit people. He just doesn't get it, and it's probably ridiculous for him to even think about it, because at the deepest level he has an attitude to respond to any hint of a threat with a fight.

Most likely Shidou grew up in an environment where brute force decided everything. That's why he's so hyperexcitable.

Shidou is in a constant state of tension, waiting for even the slightest hint of a threat, which he is happy to crush immediately. He's constantly ready to strike because he's used to constantly feeling a threat - one that he had to respond to with violence because he wouldn't have survived otherwise. His "fight" response, out of a combination of ancient instincts called "fight-flight-freeze," is always switched to the max.

We all know that the attack is the best form of defense, and Shidou follows this motto with his entire being. "Beat your own so that others will fear you" is about him.

Shidou doesn't mention his family at all in his Blue Lock profile like other players do. Remember how he talks about Santa in the same form - "I can buy something on my own" sounds very childish and unhappy. When you're trying to prove to yourself that you don't need it at all - because if you need it, you won't get it anyway.

Beyond that, even leaving aside his family and theoretical home environment, we know for a fact that Shidou didn't play for any football team before Blue Lock.

He was a loner, and therefore the only space where he could practice was the street.

And street football is insanely, inhumanly violent.

And it makes sense that this similar environment, both at home and in the game, formed the core of Shidou's personality that we see in the manga. The core of personality, which is based on the desire to survive, and not just survive, but to show everyone around him that despite everything he has gnawed out a life for himself with his teeth. A life in which cruelty is the law.

A life where he exists.

Shidou is probably one of the most evident Blue Lock players, for whom football is not only inextricably linked to life - it is life. And Shidou is absolutely explicit about this both in the interview and in the manga.

For Shidou, football and life are one and the same.

The same thing that Aiku says: Shidou is incapable of separating the field and life. They're inseparable in his world in general; they're one and the same.

It is only logical that Shidou transfers the laws of his life to football as well; and ends up playing football the same way he plays life - a football of the "survival" kind. Where it is his biological need (I'm sorry), his only aspiration, the violence that breaks everything in its path. Where the way to "survive the game", just as in life, is to leave your mark, to somehow prove your existence in people's lives, to be remembered by them and imprinted in their memories.

And pay attention to the way Shidou lives: not according to the rules, uncomfortable and bright, believing that it is better to burn to the death than to lie in a corner as a gray shadow, but alive.

There are no rules in Shidou's football; therefore, there are no rules in Shidou's life.

And that's why Shidou despises heroes and "good guys"; because only naive idiots who don't understand real life, the one where your survival is all that matters. That's why he mocks Kunigami's principles so much: because to him, a child for whom his whole life has been one big attempt to gnaw his teeth out to survive, such principles are irrelevant.

Because there are no heroes in Shidou's world, and even if there were, they've long since broken.

And there are no restrictions in Shidou's life either. He lives a violent life, and it makes sense that he lives by the same principles in Blue Lock, not hesitating to threaten Rin with the end of his career or Igaguri with murder.

He's not violent because he takes some special pleasure in bullying Igaguri: he's violent because that's just who he is. He doesn't have a "harming others is not okay" attitude. It's instinct - as seen especially in his episodes of fighting with Rin. He doesn't care at all about causing him long-term harm or ruining his career - on the contrary, he enjoys it in the moment.

And this is especially evident in his relationship with Isagi; while Shidou had nearly smashed his head in the day before, on the field he already openly admires him and is quite friendly. Shidou doesn't give violence any particular importance - you don't give any importance to brushing your teeth or throwing out the rubbish in the morning, do you?

For Shidou, it's just insignificant, because violence is the organic basis of his life, its law and right.

Today he's trying to kill Isagi, and tomorrow it's Isagi-chan.

Because Shidou has no social competence - he had no parents to bring him into society and set some morals.

And his desires are pretty simple and even primitive. When he learns of his potential salary, his first thought is how much he can eat on it. All he basically wants, almost to the point of obsession, is to induce vivid emotions, explosion, adrenaline - something Shidou is addicted to, living in constant danger and something that allows him to feel alive and existent.

You know who that sounds like? Denji. A main character from Shidou's most favourite manga.

They both had no guides to society. They're both unfortunate kids who were deprived of absolutely everything when they were young. Who are so vulgar and repulsive not because there's anything wrong with them and they act so deliberately and meanly - but because they just don't know any other life. They just don't understand what it's like to live differently. They both live on base instincts.

And they both try to greedily claim as much as they can from the life around them - the food, the people, the sensations.

Because they had nothing before.

Back to Shidou and his football.

The most amazing thing about Shidou is the way he treats his opponents (omitting attempts to injure them). Shidou, even when losing, finds time to admire them - to admire those who took the ball away from him or stole a goal. He's really just having a good time - while for Rin, football is something to be taken completely seriously, for Karasu it's a need to pre-analyse opponents, and for Snuffy it's work, Shidou is just having fun.

And at the same time, what, along with "watch as world reaches its end" and "at the end of the day, when I became nothing, tears came out" demonstrates the duality of his nature is his attitude to losing.

He and Kaiser actually have too many parallels, but this is one of the most obvious - even though they treat the issue differently, they act in the same way.

They're both prepared to admit when they're losing - and they're both willing to break themselves for the sake of the goal. They both know how and when to tame jealousy and the losing parts of their being.

Because they don't believe in winning (explosion) any other way.

Shidou knows when to back down. Because he learnt this too from his childhood - that if the opponent is stronger than you and you keep carelessly breaking forward, sooner or later it will destroy you. The only way to win is to recognise his superiority and fracture yourself, forming a new self - one that can defeat him (as seen in Shidou's willingness to stop fighting so that Ego would let him out, and Kaiser's with his story with Noa).

The ability to appreciate and recognise the strength of your opponent is a basic principle of survival.

But at the same time (just like Kaiser), Shidou doesn't believe that there are invincible opponents. You just have to know the way to break them.

Or rather, not know: feel. Which is what happens at the U-20 game when Shidou enters the flow.

Logically, with all of the above, Shidou is a complete individualist, and is unable to comply with Rin even for the sake of a goal - because Shidou knows he can beat him. The point at which his PXG game has evolved - with two formations, one centered on Shidou and the other on Rin - is the clearest evidence of this.

Shidou knows when to back off - but Shidou isn't going to back off until circumstances force him to.

And in the end, this approach of Shidou ended up being too egoistic for Blue Lock, which is insanely ironic. What's also funny is that along with it, it's his attitude towards football that epitomises Ego's ideal - a player who puts everything he has into it because it's his way of surviving.

And so we come to that one scene of punishment. And it's this, along with Shidou's monologue from the U-20 game, that reveals him the most.

Because in the first few frames Shidou looks frankly miserable. Of course, anyone would look that way in his position. But suddenly Shidou starts talking calmly, offering a compromise - and then in the same second he snaps.

He explodes, cursing Ego - though as his words show he understands the reason for the punishment - he's even willing to compromise. It's illogical to curse the one on whom his salvation depends, isn't it?

Shidou acts this way because he's afraid.

Because in this moment - bound, locked up, and alone - he is defenseless.

He's like a caged animal that can't think logically - he's terrified, he's scared, he can only throw himself helplessly around the cage, grinning his teeth wantonly. This is the first time we see him so seriously angry (he still did get some fun, adrenaline rush during the fight with Rin).

The worst thing for Shidou, free as a bird or a tiger and most of all wanting that very freedom (more about that later) is vulnerability and limitation. Powerlessness. For the sake of overcoming this, he is ready to give up violence and his principles of life, as long as he is released and pulled out of this hell of helplessness.

And this fear is actually incredibly characteristic of his personality too.

But in order to understand why, of all the possible punishments of the world, it is the restriction that drives him to panic, let's remember what football means to him and his style of play in it.

Shidou has sharp and monstrous, even beastly reflexes and instincts. They are honed to the max. He is very strong physically, fast, agile, flexible, perfectly sensing the space around him. Optimal in his movements. Unpredictable. His illogical patterns are impossible to read.

Shidou is all of one naked reflex and instinct, free in his absolute savagery. He is a completely separate character outside of the Ego's system. He literally speaks a different language.

And Sae happens to be the only one who understands that language.

And up until their moments together, this is most vividly shown when Sae stops Shidou from beating up another player - and not just stops him, but understands what needs to be said.

Which again proves that in the violent chaos of Shidou's life he does have a certain logic. A constantly shifting, flexible one, but one...

Which, again, Sae alone understands.

And it is through playing with Sae that the whole point of why football is so important to Shidou is revealed. Why he plays it so instinctively, despising the rule, the tactics, and his teammates. Why is he suddenly willing to "break himself" for Sae, adjusting his rules of life to fit him, yesterday's stranger - because Sae accepts both him and his football, and doesn't try to limit or remake him. And that's exactly why Shidou is willing to be changed to match him.

Because Shidou's football, the life he wants to achieve, is all about freedom.

And that's not enough for him. It's not enough for Shidou just to play, just to live. It can't be enough for a man who is used to living on adrenaline and fighting for his existence every day.

Life for Shidou is about freedom, just as football is his escape and a place where he can exist.

Shidou stands out, doesn't follow the rules, exists so vividly and with every action clearly and distinctly proving his presence...

To live.

Both football and Shidou's life are about escaping, about breaking out of his limits. To see the world as himself - free and alive.

Football makes Shidou feel whole, feel alive. Football is what glues him together. It's the only way he can prove what he is - by achieving something. By making himself colorful, visible, uncomfortable - in a way that he can't be turned away from.

One that will allow him to leave a trace of his existence in the world. One that will prove to him that he is.

For Shidou, all these metaphorical (or not) explosions are actually a way of proving that he exists.

Even his fights and quarrels actually serve his purpose - and Shidou himself confirms this in his monologue. All of this is to be vivid, to imprint, to exist.

To be someone who cannot be forgotten or turned away from.

Who cannot be overlooked.

Who exists as obviously as he can.

Even his favorite subjects at school - Art and Physical Education (the latter obviously about football) - are related. Because it's possible to leave your mark on the world with art, too - and it makes sense that Shidou admires it so much. Because art is, after all, the most colorful thing a living person can leave behind.

And for Shidou, art is football.

For him, to exist is to be free. And to burn so brightly that it blinds his own eyes - otherwise both life and football become bland, boring and insignificant to him. Just like his evenings - remember "When is the last time you cried?" from The Egoist Bible? And remember Shidou's response?

"At the end of the day, when I became nothing, tears came out."

Because in the evening, emotions and people disappear and you're left to yourself. Empty, aimless and in a way pathetic - because you're no longer on fire. Because you lose all the things that made you feel during the day.

Shidou depends on vivid emotions - because, due to his difficult youth, they are the only things that allow him to feel that he is alive.

That he's free.

Shidou's favorite song is also about freedom and trying to break free from the constraints of his life.

There is nothing in the world Shidou longs for more than freedom.

And the spider in Shidou's favorite song is limited and weak.

A spider without wings is incapable of flying. The spider without wings is trapped in unfreedom, looking at the blue and vast sky above his head every day - one that he cannot reach.

A spider without wings is incapable of flying - and those wings Shidou himself, like the spider in the song, could not get, no matter how hard he tried.

But Sae gave Shidou those wings. Sae gave Shidou the ability to play to his full potential, the way he craved with his entire being. Sae took him out from Blue Lock. Sae acknowledged him. Sae gave him a chance to make his mark on the world and gave him purpose, he showed him that there was someone who understood him and his aspirations on this base, animal level.

Sae gave Shidou freedom.

And Shidou learnt to fly.