#by your own childhood because taking responsibility would shatter his self image?

[criticalrolo]

wow I spend 2.5 weeks away from therapy and I SLIDE BACKWARDS huh

[heyyy-hey-babyyy]

When We Were Young (Part IV)

Dean x Fem!Reader; Sam x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Read part I here ; Read part II here ; Read part III here

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of trauma/abuse, brief moments of self-harm, mentions of anxiety attack, a little dirty (not quite smut, but a bit steamy). 

Summary: Dean, Sam, and Y/N grew up together, but when she’s taken away for over 10 years, the boys have no idea what she’s been through. Will asking her to move into the bunker with them reveal more than she’s ready for?

2359 words

You tensed, anticipating the conclusion of the story and suddenly afraid of how Dean would react to what you were about to say. You took a deep breath before speaking.

“And when Greg opened the closet door and pulled back the blanket, I emptied the clip into his chest.”

It was deafening in the bedroom as you let the words you had never spoken out loud ring out and coat the empty spaces around you, never to be forgotten again. Dean hadn’t spoken, and you suddenly felt exhausted, reliving the darkest moment of your life. He still held you tight in his arms, but he was no longer comforting you, merely laying still as you pressed against his chest breathing him in. You couldn’t decide if you were worried for his reaction, or if you were relishing in the silence and warmth of his hold, but either way you were becoming anxious the longer he didn’t speak. 

Dean cleared his throat lightly, and you chanced glancing up at him. He wasn’t looking directly at you, but seemed to be lost in a memory for the moment. You curled back into his chest, and he tightened his hold, before you heard his voice, gruff from not being used. 

“When I was maybe, I don’t know, thirteen, fourteen, I killed my first vampire. She was young and dad decided I was old enough to go head to head with her because we were roughly the same size.” He huffed out a brief laugh. “Looking back it seems really messed up, but I was itching to get more into the hunt and this became the only way for me to prove it to my father.” He stopped, and it was your turn to try to comfort him, reaching up to run your fingers across his shoulders and you felt him relax a bit, letting out a deep breath he must have been holding. 

“Anyway, I took out the vamp no problem, and remember dad clapping me on the back, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of the vamp’s head. She hadn’t even barred fangs, and honestly looked just like a normal teenage girl, but one that I had just beheaded.” You continued lightly massaging his shoulders as you took comfort in the rumble of his voice against your cheek. “The image haunted me for weeks and after I woke dad up one night screaming in my sleep he sat down with me and instead of giving me the ‘she’s a monster, get over it’ talk he said something that I think about often.” Dean seemed to be completely lost in thought, and though you weren’t sure why he was telling you this, you listened intently, like he had just done for you. 

“He told me, ‘Dean, she was doing bad things. Yes, she was young, but sometimes people can’t come back from tasting a little bit of the darkness.’” 

You stopped moving your hands and he pulled you softly away from his chest and you looked into bright green eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. 

“Y/N.” He began, his tone growing serious. You shrunk back a little against his hold, afraid of what he was about to say. “Hey,” he softened, pulling you closer again so he could rub his hands up and down your arms. “Look at me.” You glanced back into his eyes as he continued speaking. “Some people can’t come back from the darkness.” 

Dean made everything seem so easy, and for a second you believed him. Perhaps you really could stop drowning in the guilt of what you did. But you shook your head at him with finality breaking your eye contact. You could never be forgiven for taking another human’s life. And you had too many secrets to ever live life like a normal person. Way too many skeletons in the closet. In that moment you felt profound guilt and sadness at the direction of your life. Sure, you were now in the arms of the man you had been in love with since before you even knew what love was, but he didn’t know anything about your life now. 

Dean saw the way you were reacting to his words. The way your mind was taking you from hope to guilt to sadness to absolute dread. He knew you thought you could hide from him, but he spent the better part of his childhood learning how to read the nerdy short girl who sometimes hung out with him at Bobby’s. And he could still read you like a book. 

“Hey, stop avoiding me, and look at me.” He said it with the tone that didn’t leave room for argument and you glanced up slowly. “You did what you had to do to protect yourself. That’s what your dad, my dad, and Bobby always taught us. Remember, ‘shoot first and ask questions later.’“ He smiled at you softly and you couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the memory pull at you. 

When you found yourself alone with Dean on endless nights when you were younger, waiting for your dad’s to return, you used to come up with outrageous situations that you both could maybe find yourselves in and the other would respond simply with ‘shoot first. Ask questions later.’ It was stupid and bordering on morbid, but it always made you laugh, and Dean would stare at you until your fits of giggles stopped. In those moments, you always felt like maybe Dean felt for you just as much as you felt for him. But you were just his friend who he would hang out with at Bobby’s. Not girlfriend material. And you were taken from the boys young anyway, shattering any hope of what could have been. And Greg successfully shattered any hope of you being comfortable with another human being. 

Dean saw it happening again. The way you went from joy to guilt to sadness to dread. It broke his heart to not know what was happening in your head. Whatever you were telling yourself to give you such a hopeless look. He wanted more than anything to take away your pain, but he had no idea where to even start. 

You coughed lightly, pulling away from his arms. “Uh, can we just go to bed, Dean? I’m tired and,” you stopped glancing at his bedside clock, “it’s nearly 4:00am.” He nodded softly, and you turned away in the opposite direction, pulling the comforter up to your chin, though you weren’t even remotely tired. You were too stuck in your own head, imagining what could have been if you hadn’t been taken away all those years ago. You were never one for coulda woulda shoulda, but laying this close to Dean had you feeling all kinds of ways and it was hard not to want so much of what you couldn’t have. You had been laying silent for a few moments, when you felt Dean shift slightly. 

“Hey,” he whispered, gauging if you were asleep. You turned your head back toward him, glancing into his eyes. “Uh,” he looked awkward and it made you smile. “Would it be okay, if I held you, Y/N? Just for tonight.” You were a bit shocked by his question, being that you had just been thinking about him, but you nodded, realizing quickly how much you wanted him close again. You turned back to your side away from him, and felt one arm snake under your head laying against the pillow, and the other crawl across your waist pulling you flush against him. He sighed contentedly, and you allowed yourself to breath normally, even though your body was trembling slightly and your breathing was a little erratic. 

Being this close to him, it was impossible to hide the way your body was reacting, and you felt him pull away from you a bit, but you grabbed his arm and placed it on your hip again. This is what you wanted. It’s Dean. He would never hurt you. You told yourself over and over to calm you racing heart. Besides, Greg never cuddled with you. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, baby?” Dean whispered, his breath tickling the hair by your ear, making your body tense up again. But you nodded placing your hand on his on your hip, and moving it further down your stomach. Dean let you guide his hand and when it landed in a comfortable place, you proceeded to run your fingers up and down his arm. A memory of Dean flashed across your eyes as you did this. 

You were playing some racing game that you were horrible at and he knew it, so of course he wanted to place a bet. You were no punk, so you agreed, sitting up a bit straighter as the cars raced around the tracks for their practice run before you pressed the start button. 

“If I win,” you started, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. “I get to ride in the front seat of the Impala the next time John takes us into town!” You didn’t really care about riding up front, but you knew it drove Dean insane to be in the back, and if you were up front you could play Dixie Chicks and Dean would have to shut up about it. 

He sighed dramatically, but agreed. “Okay, then if I win...” He trailed off trying to look deep in thought, but you knew him better than that. He was embarrassed, and you got serious thinking ‘what could he possibly be embarrassed to ask for?’

“If I win, I want you to do that arm scratching thing you do when you’re nervous, to distract yourself... I love that.” You stared at him stupidly in response, but nodded anyway. You always thought he thought that was annoying when you’d be watching a horror movie and you’d grab his arm and move your fingers up and down the smooth skin as a distraction. You hated the feeling yourself, but he never stopped you, so you figured he was just humoring you. 

Dean shrugged like it was no big deal and nodded back, looking toward the game, knowing he was going to win, and smiling to himself. 

You kept moving up and down his arm and Dean sighed into your hair. “I love this.” He whispered softly, almost as if he didn’t mean to. You smiled nodding that you knew. Dean leaned his head down to rest on your shoulder and he lightly kissed the open patch of skin on your collar bone, losing himself for a moment. You breathed out a little in surprise, and he felt you tense, moving his head back. “Sorry.” He whispered quickly, but you shook your head in response. 

“I liked it...” You whispered back, moving your hand to entangle your fingers with his on your waist, and he pulled you closer gripping you to him. His head returned and he placed another chaste kiss against your neck making goosebumps appear across your skin. He nuzzled into your neck lightly and you giggled involuntarily, nervous suddenly and he placed another kiss against your collarbone before speaking. 

“It broke my heart to let you leave...” He trailed off, lost in thought as you took in his words. “I begged my dad for months to take you back, but we couldn’t find you. It was like the system ate you up. I’m so sorry, baby. I should have saved you.” You shook your head at his last words, not wanting any of this to be his fault. Besides, after Greg, you didn’t want to be found. You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault and that you had disappeared for years after the shooting, but he released your hand suddenly, moving his hand back over your stomach. Your shirt had rode up a bit and you felt the pads of Dean’s fingers glide smoothly across your exposed skin. You had never been touched so gently, and though it brought up feelings you hadn’t felt in years, you knew Dean wasn’t pressuring you into anything, but rather comforting you and letting you know you are wanted. The thought made you choke up, and Dean held you close to him. 

“Lets sleep. We can talk more tomorrow.” You nodded, and snuggled closer, relaxing as Dean’s fingers danced across your skin, and the sound of him humming “Let it Be” lightly into your ear soothed you into a dreamless sleep. 

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It was well after noon and you were still fast asleep. Dean had pulled away from you gently around 9:00am and was returning now to check on you. He pulled the door closed, leaving it open a crack so he could hear if you called for him, when Sam came up next to him. 

“Hey,” He whispered. “How is she? How did last night go?” 

Dean put a finger to his lips and motioned for his brother to follow him into the bathroom across the hall. He closed the door and sat down with a huff on the toilet seat, Sam perching on the side of the bathtub. 

It took a few seconds for Dean to decide what he wanted to tell Sam, but his brother was ever patient waiting for Dean to say what he needed to. 

“Some awful stuff happened to her when she was taken into foster care after her dad died, Sammy...” Sam nodded looking up at his brother, remembering how chaotic things were after the social worker barged into Bobby’s house and took you out screaming for Dean along the way. Dean refused to stop looking for you and it was almost a year later when he finally resigned to returning to hunt with his dad and taking care of Sam again. 

Dean slammed his hand down loudly on the sink, and pulled it back quickly, straining to hear if he woke you. He didn’t hear anything so he turned back to Sam confessing what was weighing deep on his soul. 

“I don’t know what to do.” He stated simply.

Sam narrowed his eyes in confusion. “What do you mean?” Dean looked up at him with sorrow in his eyes.

“I love her, Sammy.”

Read part V here.

When We Were Young Tag list: @vicmc624​ 

[ohmygodtheywereparabatai]

Finally watched Hello Future Me’s video floating around my recommended feed, and halfway through his excellent analysis struck a spooky thought! Here’s a theory for the girl in red.

Sane at the Time of the Finale:

Azula’s Downfall Was in Spiritual Revenge

The poetic justice of Zhao drowned by the moon spirit’s other half, Ozai’s power stripped by a full-fledged Avatar... part of what makes Azula’s defeat so unique is her crumbling sense of self, an introspective enemy instead of an outside one. Katara, whose confidence and network of support are pointed out as the mirror image of what Azula could have had, finally gains the upper hand and pins her down.

From birth, the princess endures an environment that perfects and hones her nature to the shattering point. Plenty of signs point to her devolution: the betrayal of Mai and Ty Lee, getting sidelined by her own father at the literal crowning moment, and her irreversible childhood at the center of the snowball effect. But how ‘bout I do anyway, and tie in the mechanisms of the spirit world with Azula’s last moments? The connection is far from obvious, but well and present. The role of another world in weakening such an iron-fisted character visible in the first GIF itself.

I. “Taking you down is the Avatar’s destiny.”

The spirit world is one fundamental half of the Avatar. Its guidance and power are endowed to a messiah-like figure, who masters the four bending disciplines in order to restore and keep balance. It’s constantly reinforced that the Firelord is meant to be brought down by him, that a century of bloodshed is repaid when the warlord’s life is taken, and the end of his corrupt regime is the beginning of a fuller, more peaceful era.

“Aang, you must defeat the Firelord before the comet arrives.” (Roku)

“Your destiny! This is incredible. You will be involved in a great battle, an awesome conflict between the forces of good and evil.” (Aunt Wu)

“I should have seen this war coming and prevented it... But I believe you are destined to redeem me and save the world.” (Roku)

“Because I know my own destiny. Taking you down is the Avatar’s destiny.” (Zuko)

“Everyone, even my own past lives, are expecting me to end someone’s life.” (Aang)

A seemingly inconsequential detail is that the Firelord at the time of the final battle is not Ozai - it’s his daughter. By then, the title of Phoenix King is exchanged for her coronation. The nail on the head isn’t nitpicking terminology, but that Aang already suffered defeat at Azula’s hands. She herself plays a masterful and instrumental role in the war, literally her father’s will embodied. She’s there to hunt the Avatar, lead the massive drill against Ba Sing Se’s walls, orchestrate a coup, oversee the takeoff of the airship fleet, suggest the annihilation of Ba Sing Se in the first place. It’s a long time before we see Ozai at the warfront in the flesh, and even then, the damage dealt by Azula in Book Two and Book Three resonates. Keeping all this in mind, jump to Aang’s death.

“I went down! I didn’t just get hurt, did I? I was gone! But you brought me back.” (Aang, to Katara)

At the end of Book One, when a spirit is killed and revived, balance is reduced to moonless havoc, and all hell descends on the guilty party. The Avatar-slayer would be far from an exception to this counterbalance. So what we witness in “Into the Inferno” - Azula, gruesomely unmade - may just be the most brutal act of vengeance onscreen, and as a direct consequence of this:

While Aang is not directly responsible, it’s safe to assume the spirit world often acts of its own volition. Notable spirits possess harsh views on modernization, and lash out at humanity for its flaws: Wan Shi Tong’s disappearance, the ocean spirit’s wrath, the aye-aye spirit in LoK antagonizing any human presence, the Mother of Faces admonishing vanity and disrespect.

In this vein, the Avatar spirit remains a powerful source of Aang’s strength, weaved into the very outcome of greater forces such as fate and salvation. In the crystal catacombs, Azula threw a wrench into a universal narrative - for an instant, the world really was lost.

And, truth is, we’ve already watched as an entity descended from the Avatar’s power - one who Azula identifies repeatedly as her lifelong plague - haunts her to the point of systemic delusion. Ursa herself, granddaughter of Roku.

II. “You’ve turned my own mind against me...”

Time to reconcile show canon with the comics!

There’s no one who ties more into the tragedy of Azula than her mother. Hello Future Me dredges “The Search” and “Smoke and Shadow” for panels where her condition is exacerbated by fear and animosity. She’s obsessed with the idea that Ursa was pitted against her from day one, and even claims her influence strangled the loyalties of her friends and forced Ozai to “break free of her control.” The possibility of the slightest truth to Azula’s more elaborate fears raises a host of alarming implications. Especially when acknowledging her character is as sharp as a tack - a dulled edge when madness factors in, to be sure, but not negligible.

Is it logical to develop the belief that Ursa was an agent of evil in the royal court? The death of Azulon and her subsequent disappearance... It wouldn’t take long for Azula - aware of Zuko’s fate at the time, and her mother’s resignation to prevent it - to connect the dots. Ursa’s blood relation to the same Avatar that rivaled Firelord Sozin is another thorn in the side of trust. Whether Azula was aware of it or not, the strife born in Zuko, the eternally entangled red and blue dragons, exist to her biology as well. This makes it difficult to ignore a spiritual side to her illness, which draws primarily from Ursa’s “ill” intent.

Azula is also seen embracing the idea that spirits risen solely to take revenge can derail lives, legitimacy, and loyalty. The comics give us a chance to absorb the hidden subtext at face value.

The Kemurikage were born when robbed mothers abducted the children of others as punishment. Fear of the spirits crumbled the warlord Toz’s support and ended his cause. The masquerading dissenters in “Smoke and Shadow” are able to undermine Firelord Zuko’s authority, create a divide between Mai’s family and her father, and sow widespread fear. Curfew, searches, and interrogations shape the beginnings of a “ruthless” rule, eerily evocative of Azula’s much more rapid descent...

So how do Azula’s visions of Ursa, conjured unconsciously or from a little something more, and her steep debt to the world and Avatar link together - forge the ideal weapon and circumstances for retribution?

^ Just like that.

This only covers Ursa’s side of the family, the redoubling of spiritual balance after Aang’s fall like the snap of a rubber band. Azula’s complete undoing has to do with the lashing out of both families.

III. The blue dragon

Now, what was it about that first GIF?

Azula’s health begins to spiral right as she’s slated to become Firelord. Her identity is unraveled and called into question - Ursa made manifest slips through the chinks in her armor, prying at insecurities. Her inner turmoil admittedly makes her a poor candidate for ascension, and at the pinnacle of Fire Nation victory, - the crucial, final stages of the Hundred Year War - past rulers would look down on Ozai’s decision to usher her onto a seat of absolute power. Sozin’s Comet itself is an event that imbues firebenders with enhanced abilities, and it’s been theorized before that the “acting up” of royalty during the finale could be explained as such. The phenomenon may have also caused the reemergence of imperial spirits... and it isn’t too far of a fetch. More on that shortly.

It’s made clear that Azula’s destiny is far from holding royal court. The comics throw around that word, “destiny” a lot, but it’s a given signpost for any projected arc in the world of Avatar. And it ties in nicely with the will and workings of spirits.

Roping predestination with the probable dissatisfaction of the lineage, we finally have a whole picture. The combined force of an upended natural order, demanding the Avatar-slayer’s penance, and a royal bloodline destabilizing her reign in its infancy... planting mistrust and paranoia, and causing rash decisions. From a cherry pit to five minutes’ tardiness, Azula’s clarity and self-assurance are hacked away.

This is inviting the subversion that it wasn’t all in her head. That the Azula who readily accepts the Phoenix King’s declaration is rattled and isolated at best, but far from the composure that took just one afternoon to shatter. Zhao and Ozai face justice at the hands of the spiritual. The third main villain of ATLA might not have escaped due consequence either.

Finally, this scene. Azula, ensconced in blue flames. Is there any suggestion of the presence of spirits?

Azula’s fire is blue for purposes of flaunting her skill and sheer drive for perfection. The hottest temperature is blue in color, exactly her achievement. The technique isn’t bothered with because it saps extra effort, and so Azula’s signature symbol of power is hers alone. Fitting. But the fact remains: after leaving her hands, the fire quickly cools to orange. See below:

This color change isn’t seen in Azula’s throne room. The fire surrounding her is definitely detached from her body.

Now, it’s obvious why the animators didn’t suddenly decide to give the iconic blue a rest... but it’s incredibly intriguing from the imperial spirits angle. If Azula herself wasn’t keeping up the blue flame, then at the time of “Into the Inferno”, we’re staring into the faces of invisible devils on her shoulder, supplying the driving energy from the beyond. Onis whispering unseen evils down her ear that cause her, inevitably, to snap - the voices of Sozin and Azulon, a hundred sprawling generations. The cherry on the top is Ursa, descendant of the liaison between mortal and spirit that Azula personally killed, who torments her long after she’s relieved of the crown.

“Trust is for fools. Fear is the only reliable way.”

Hello Future Me describes Azula’s personality as a Machiavellian type, named after the guy who coined “It’s better to be feared than loved.” Watching her escalation unfold, it’s sad to wonder how someone as fearsome as her responds to being the recipient of that fear - when her own weapon turned on its hilt cuts too deep.

IV. End!

I think the scene above - the girl who opens with this directly after the demise of an admiral who engaged the incarnate of the tides (and swiftly lost), is a bit telling of her fate.

*To clarify, my framing of Ursa’s appearance as spookier than just a figment of Azula’s imagination - *cough* possibly the personified revenge of the Avatar spirit - is NOT meant to demonize Ursa herself! It just offers up an alternative explanation to what Azula hears and sees. Their bond is a poignant standalone, and I don’t mean to hate on the real Ursa/Noriko. Neither does any part of this discredit the impact of Azula’s childhood and history of neglect on her future.

That is all. Thank you for entertaining my theory!

[emrysaf]

Never Enough Pt. 16

So, uhm. Shit’s about to go down. @peggycarter-steverogers​ @dottirose​

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I've been away, a little while, sometimes I just can't help myself

When my mind's running wild, I seem to lose grip on reality

And I try to disregard the crazy things the voices tell me to do, but it's no use

I tried to own it, write songs about it

Believe me I tried, in the end I needed to breathe

Find inspiration, some kind of purpose

To take a second to face the shit that makes me, me

All I needed was the last thing I wanted

To sit alone in a room and say it all out loud

Every moment, every second, every trespass

Every awful thing, every broken dream

A couple years back and forth with myself in a cage

Banging my head against the wall tryna put words on a page

All I needed was the last thing I wanted

To be alone in a room, alone in a room

I saw the world a couple times, tried to cure the ache with absence

But that hole was still a hole and my mind kept playing tricks on me

Feeling older every day, took everything I had to not crash and burn

But I'm starting to learn

Sometimes I'll fall down, sometimes I'll lose hope

But those days will be few if I keep my feet on the ground

I might be lonely, but I ain't alone here

So I keep pushing the limits of what makes me

♫🎝♫🎝♫🎝♫🎝♫🎝♫🎝♫🎝♫🎝♫

Bucky and Steve had many talks about the future back before the war; when things were simpler. James Buchanan Barnes was a flirt and no one would deny it, but he had always said he wanted to settle down after the war. He wanted to be someone that somebody wanted for the rest of their lives, even if he thought the best route was to move from dame to dame until he felt that ‘thing’.

When he was in Wakanda, the White Wolf saw many happy families, couples and admittedly strange groupings. He saw young men and women wooing other men and women in various combinations that would have been kept quiet in his time. But he felt a sense of pride for them. To love who they loved and receive that love back in return. However, he thought he would never be something for him to hope for again; who could love a monster? Want a family with a monster?

Then, he was back with his old pal. Steve, and everyone were so kind and welcoming; especially Steve’s new trainee Y/N. And old dreams came back.

Once they were together, and the happiness and love seemed like it would bloom and re-bloom over and over forever, he sat in the kitchen and talked to Steve about all the cliches. Settling down. Stopping the hero gig. Getting married, white picket fence and children to share in the love he felt overflowing him.

It wouldn’t feel like too long before everything went downhill. And fast.

He had always felt like, maybe, he had overwhelmed her. She was always wanting him to be happy. But maybe Y/N hadn’t wanted to have his kids. Maybe, despite everything, she still didn’t want to chance having a life with a monster? 

These were concerns he eventually talked to Steve about, and now Steve was passing this to Wanda. Just because she could didn’t mean she was always around prying into others’ minds for information that wasn’t her business.

Bucky’s road to recovery had been rough after the Winter Soldier conditioning. Then everything with Y/N, and he had done well again. But after the news of her time in medbay and her subsequent stay at the mental health facility; Bucky hadn’t been doing well, and Steve could tell when he stopped him in the hall on his way out last night.

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“I’d been worried his progress was relapsing because of Y/N. His self-doubt and self/hatred was smothering him,” Steve explained to Wanda as they both paced the kitchen; unsure of their roles and responsibilities in this. “He told me- He said he thought she was scared to have a kid with him after they talked about maybe trying. He thinks that fear of some monster baby is what had her wanting out of their relationship, but the fear also kept her from just breaking it off, and that’s why she did what she did.”

“For someone so self deprecating, he sure thinks way too much is about him,” Wanda said in a flat tone. “I want you to give me permission to see her Steve. You are her proxy, and you already made decisions for testing. You can say I can visit. These two are spiraling into themselves, and I am going to get to the bottom of it.”

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Steve had begrudgingly agreed with Wanda’s demand, and called the hospital while she was already on her way there. The doctor’s were a bit shocked he would pull this as a proxy, but he assured them it was for the best. Y/N wasn’t going to talk, and they couldn’t let her keep pulling this shit she was doing.

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BEEP. BEEP.

Wanda walked through the electric-locked doors with her hands twisting in her visitor's pass that hung around her neck. A female nurse with graying hair, and kind eyes led her to Y/N’s door and swiped a card to let her in.

“We will have to lock it after you go in, but I’ve seen you on the news and I think you can handle yourself young lady,” explained the woman with a light smile. “Just press this button right here when you want let out.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

After the door shut behind her and locked with a “beep” Wanda faced her friend who’s back was to her, staring at the wall. They had lowered her dose, but she was still on the edge; everything was just a bit off and her brain a bit fuzzy.

Knowing Y/N wasn’t going to face her, or speak, Wanda made her way across the room to sit at her side on the small bed. She placed a hand on her back and gently rubbed circles as she began to lay everything out for her.

“I made Steve let me come see you, so don’t be to angry with him. He- We all want what is best for you,” she started. “The doctor talked to Steve about your medical things to see why you weren’t talking, and your file had something none of knew anything about Y/N. . .”

Y/N startled a bit at this, her eyes got wide and she opened her mouth as if to argue. But no sound came out. So, Wanda went on.

“I figured it out Y/N. Why you didn’t want the team to visit you when Steve brought you to the compound, and after.” Wanda took a deep inhale to center herself as she could feel herself becoming frustrated. “I know you didn’t want me to read you. To know about something. Was it about having a child? I don’t get why you wouldn’t let us know. Let us help. We are your friends and family. But I am going to find out.”

This shattered Y/N false neutrality, and the tears began.

“You know I usually wouldn’t do this without permission, but you are hurting yourself. Inside and out. And you are taking everyone with you,” as she finished her piece she reached out with twisting hands glowing red. “Don’t make it harder on yourself, on me. Let me in”

Everything flashed past so quickly. Like a flood. Like Y/N had wanted to give in and tell someone all this time. With another pulse of power Wanda slowed the frantic thoughts to start at the beginning.

Childhood sickness.

Y/N’s parents whispering about what this medicine would mean for their daughter’s future and possibilities of a family.

Being taken by Hydra and tortured. Tested on. Pain.

Her enhancement taking out the whole chamber and frying the electroshock machine they had been using.

Meeting Steve when his mission team came to the base she was held at.

Being taken to meet the team under Steve’s wing.

Training, learning becoming friends.

The Winter Soldier returning from Wakanda.

Y/N being so nervous around him, but wanting him to feel just as welcomed as she had felt.

The team dinners. Becoming a family.

Everyone convincing Y/N Bucky liked her back.

Bucky and Y/N confessing.

Dates. Love. So much love.

The images seemed to take on a darker look. Like they were warped or being seen through darkness. But one thing was bathed in light. One person. Bucky. Like a spotlight, he was covered in brighter glow.

Listening in on Steve and Bucky’s conversation. Family. Marriage. Children.

Deciding to try.

Doctor visit.

Doctor visit.

Doctor visit.

The doctor visit. There was something wrong with her. She couldn’t give him what he needed; deserved.

The whole team going on a mission. Steve telling Y/N it was for the best she didn’t come. Just in case. In case she hurt someone.

Spiralling. Sadness. Confusion. Anger. Questioning.

A decision made. A lie told.

Y/N looking out the back window of the town car waving at Steve and Wanda. Turning in her seat and getting brief glance at a heartbroken Bucky.

“Little pain now, but you will be better without me. I want you to be happier.”

Wanda was shoved out of Y/N’s mind by sheer will-power. 

“She saw what she came for. I don’t want her to see the rest. What I did. All that blood,” Y/N thought to herself.

Both women had tears spilling over as Wanda looked at Y/N in a look of awestruck horror. But Y/N seemed. . . Relieved. Healing was already starting, inside.

“You got what you came for.” whispered Y/N, voice rough with disuse. “Please go.” Wanda looked like she was going to argue so Y/N assured her. “I feel. . . Better. I will try for everyone. For you. For me. Promise.”

At this, Wanda nodded. “Okay. I will see you in a couple weeks.” and Y/N faintly smiled and tilted her head in affirmative. “And Y/N? I love you. We- We all love you, and miss you so much.”

“Me too.”

-----------------------------------------

Regardless of the hows or whys, Y/N still needed to heal and the best place was here at the hospital. Wanda told the nurse on her way out that she thinks they should try again with Y/N; assuring her that Y/N was going to try this time and walking out the door.

Quickly, Wanda pulled out her phone and texted Steve :

      Y/N didn’t cheat. Lied. 

      Thought she was freeing Buck

      Because of the baby thing.

----------------------------------------------

When he felt his phone buzz Steve took it from his jacket sleeve as he glanced at Bucky; slouching with his head on one hand and his other stirring the tiny straw in his drink. As super soldiers they couldn’t get drunk, but it was the thought that counted. Steve had brought his pal to the bar to, hopefully, dissuade him from a meltdown when they discussed Y/N and the real cause of her issues, cheating and all.

His brows were furrowed as he re-read the text from Wanda when he heard Bucky.

“So, Steve, why are we here? We can’t even get drunk, and you obviously have something to tell-”

The sudden cut in Bucky’s sentence whipped Steve’s gaze from his phone to see what caught his friend’s attention. Captain America himself was not prepared for what he saw, nor was he quick enough to stop his enraged friend from leaping up. Murder in his eyes directed at one bar patron.

A dark haired man sat near the bar with a couple friends shoulders shaking and tattooed hands gripping his beer hard. Green eyes watering in laughter at something his friend must have said.

To the Winter Soldier, this man was laughing at him. At what he’d done. What he’d taken.

To the Winter Soldier, this green-eyed, dark-haired, tattooed bastard was a dead man.

                      Too bad this guy had no idea what was going on.

[umbry-fic]

That Beautiful Soul

Summary: A person's Dæmon is said to represent one's very self. But does your Dæmon fully define who you are? What does their presence, their form, mean?

(Original canon with the inclusion of Dæmons from His Dark Materials)

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Colette Brunel, Lloyd Irving, Kratos Aurion, Anna Irving, Mithos Yggdrasill, Martel Yggdrasill, Yuan Ka-Fai, Dirk, Presea Combatir, Regal Bryant, Genis Sage, Raine Sage, Zelos Wilder, Sheena Fujibayashi, Original Characters (Dæmons) Relationships: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving, Zelos Wilder/Sheena Fujibayashi, Anna Irving/Kratos Aurion, Yuan Ka-Fai/Martel Yggdrasill, Kratos Aurion & Lloyd Irving, Regal Bryant & Presea Combatir Rating: T Word Count: 10057 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 10/01/2021

Notes: First fic in a series involving a His Dark Materials AU. Read to the end for the meanings behind everyone's Dæmons.

Series Next fic in the series

~~~

A Dæmon represents everything about you. Your darkest secrets, every sin that you’ve ever committed, will be free to see in the form that your Dæmon takes. A Dæmon is an extension of your soul, and it will show everything.

Zelos thought it was quite a lot to shove on a young child and his Dæmon. The insinuation that Martha’s final form would dictate the person he became, and would pretty much decide every action he would ever take in the future. A little unfair, wasn't it?

The Church’s priests expected his Dæmon to become some grand animal, like every other member in the Mana Lineage. His Father’s Dæmon had been a tiger. Majestic, sure, but no less interested in Zelos and Martha than Zelos’ father had been.

His Mother’s Dæmon had been a cat. A tabby cat, to be precise, and an extremely overweight one at that. Maybe he had once thought his Mother’s Dæmon had been cute and nurturing. He was sure most of Meltokio’s high society thought the same. That tabby cat could conduct itself extremely regally if it wanted to, reinforcing the same facade that his Mother did. His parents’ unshakeable pride meant that no other option was acceptable.

But that image had long shattered for him the moment his mother’s Dæmon had struck out at him. Angry, red claw marks had been left behind not just on Martha, but on himself. That taboo about a Dæmon touching another person… His Mother’s Dæmon had overcome it easily through the strength of their combined hatred.

And so Zelos determined he would prove the priests wrong, just to spite them and this whole cruel world. Martha wouldn’t and didn’t want to settle as a lion or a tiger, and was just as eager to piss off the priests and the entirety of high society. They would leave the choice up to fate.

Martha settling as a snake did cause everyone else to shut up. After all, a snake wasn’t befitting of the Chosen. The Chosen was someone in the favour of Martel herself, who would help lead Tethealla into greater glory. How was it that the Chosen’s Dæmon was something as deceptive as a poisonous reptile? It couldn’t possibly be true.

The priests didn’t like it, but Zelos wasn’t about to change himself for them. And so life went on, with no one addressing what everyone surely thought was a strange Dæmon.

That didn’t stop the whispers behind Zelos’ back, so he did what he did best. He built his Dæmon’s form into a mysterious persona and made use of it to pursue girls, even as his heart ached for only one. A girl with a fiery spirit and a wildcat as a Dæmon, so different from the tabby cat he’d known in childhood.

He’d pushed her away in the hopes of saving her from further pain. Zelos knew that he’d only ever hurt the people around him, and Martha agreed. Isn’t that what her form meant? Better to break his own heart than risk those of others.

It was years later that fate would come through in the end. Deception and betrayal. Martha’s form had been a prophecy from the very beginning. There was no escaping it.

And he and Martha would share one last hysterical laugh in the safety of his room in the Wilder Manor, awaiting the beginning of the end. One way or another, Sheena and Martin would hate them.

He and Martha would be accomplices and companions to the bitter end.

~~~

Colette had never known life without Pan by her side.

Pan was her constant companion in the way that Dæmons were meant to be. An extension of her soul and a being that was closer than a friend, for they were someone who had been there since you were brought into the world.

He knew all her deepest secrets, for he experienced much the same. The deep sense of yearning within her heart that refused to be squashed down at night, the tears she shed silently into the pillow while cradling Pan to her heart, and the terrible guilt that filled her when she told Lloyd goodbye, knowing she would never come back.

Pan would always be there. She was glad to know, even if it was selfish, that there would be someone with her when she died. And that someone understood the terrible regret she felt over all those she would leave behind. All she could do was go with a smile on her face, holding her happiest memories close to her heart. Memories of times spent with her family, with her friends, and with Lloyd.

Colette was glad, at least, that Pan had settled as a hummingbird when she was 14. It was one aspect of a normal life that she had been able to experience before she died.

Why a hummingbird? Colette didn’t know the reason behind Pan’s final form, only that it must somehow represent herself. That was what a Dæmon was.

Pan had always favoured small creatures. Sugar gliders, mice, frogs… It wasn’t surprising that he’d settled as a hummingbird. The villagers had told her it fit her. Hummingbirds were animals that represent love and joy.

She had simply smiled in response. Her facade had been working, then. No one saw anything but happiness and no one had unearthed the sadness buried beneath.

It only made her cry harder in the dead of night.

Until there were no more tears to cry, for the Angelic transformation had taken those away as well. So she would spend the nights, no longer able to sleep, gently stroking Pan’s feathers although neither of them could feel it anymore. Just another thing that had been taken from Pan because of his bond to her. They would talk, until even that was taken from them, about anything and everything but the ascent into the Tower of Salvation that was looming upon them.

Until finally there was nothing else to discuss, and they would once again confide in each other the fears that nestled deep within her heart. That somehow she would fail to act as a proper Chosen, that somehow she would let down her friends, new and old, and that -

That she would break Lloyd’s heart. Lloyd, who loved with all of his heart, and Arielle, strong and brave. She was glad to be able to enjoy their company for just a little bit longer, but at the same time, it meant that she would have to leave them both behind again. Would they hate her and Pan? Would Lloyd ever be able to forgive her?

Not that it mattered. Maybe it would be better if he hated her forever. Better than for him to grieve over her. Better for him to move on together with Arielle. No matter how much it would hurt her… But she wouldn’t be alive to feel that anymore. She would have given her life for a better Sylvarant, one where those she loved could live freely.

What she and Pan felt didn’t matter.

~~~

“Pan! Please, stop running!” Colette screamed, soaked to the bone with the rain. She stumbled blindly over the forest path, pushing her way through leaves and sharp branches that scratched at her arms. But that pain was minute compared to the rope currently looped tightly along her heart, squeezing and getting tighter by the minute. She knew if she let it get any tighter, it would rip out her heart.

Pan had leapt off her palms as a sugar glider just moments ago, disappearing into the forest with the rain pattering down all around them, leaving her shocked and stunned before she gave chase.

Colette stumbled into a clearing, falling to her knees. Her hands and arms were cut and bleeding, but she didn’t care. She whipped her head around blindly, hair falling into her eyes and shivering from the cold. Pan. Where was he?

The string around her heart led Colette to squeeze herself into a log, crawling through the small, cramped space with relative ease. She was small for her age of 10. Lloyd wouldn’t be able to fit in here.

The thought of Lloyd made her flinch, recalling the words the priests at the Church of Martel had uttered.

Finally, finally, she was able to wrap her hands around Pan. He was now in the form of a hummingbird, shivering in a tiny ball of waterlogged feathers.

The storm was cold around them, but Pan was warm in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” Pan muttered. “It must have hurt for you too. I shouldn’t have done it.”

Colette shushed him, gently smoothing out his feathers. “It’s OK.”

“Is this what it’ll feel like when you become an angel?” Pan asked, morphing into a squirrel and wrapping his tail around her neck. The question only revived all the emotions she had buried since she had learned the fate that was destined for her. “Like I’m being ripped apart from the inside?”

“I don’t know,” Colette whispered, tears brimming in the corner of her eyes. “I don’t -”

“I don’t want to die. I don’t - I don’t want to leave Arielle behind. I don’t want to hurt them, I don’t want them to feel like this - like everything’s coming to an end and your heart is being destroyed from the inside -”

“I know,” Colette choked on her tears, cradling Pan closer to her chest. “I’m sorry.”

Because that’s all she can say to her Dæmon. The only thing she could ever do was apologise, for she could not avoid her fate. It was both of their duties to sacrifice themselves for Sylvarant.

Perhaps it's what Pan wanted, always favouring birds. The desire to escape and fly away, except he couldn’t, for he was chained to her forever. It had not been her desire to do so, but she had doomed her Dæmon to die along with her.

Would it feel this way for those she would leave behind? She didn’t want to put Lloyd through that. Like one’s soul was being destroyed. That would be how she and Pan felt, and she didn’t want to put anyone else through it.

But there was nothing, nothing she could do.

~~~

Pan. That name… It was the name of Colette’s mother’s Dæmon. Pan had never met his namesake, for the sole reason that Colette’s mother had died in childbirth. The name had been given to him by Julia, Frank’s Dæmon, following the long-held tradition of parents' Dæmons naming their child's Dæmon.

It meant just another responsibility that Pan had to carry. The hopes and dreams of Colette’s mother and her Dæmon rested on his back. It was a burden he had carried since his birth, and a duty he had always been destined to fail.

After all, what mother wouldn’t want their child to live their best life? Sacrificing oneself didn’t seem to fit the bill.

But he wasn’t about to tell Colette that. She held enough of a burden as it was, prepared to fling her own life away like it was completely worthless. Pan was the only one who understood what she was going through and the only one she could confide in. He wouldn’t add on to that burden. The one time he had tried to run away, it had felt like his heart was being ripped straight from his chest. It was the worst pain he had ever felt, and he knew that he’d put Colette through the same thing. It was unforgivable.

But still, what he had said that rainy night was true. Pan didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to leave behind all the friends he had made. Timothy and Arielle... They’d be devastated in the same way that Lloyd and Genis would be once they knew Colette was gone.

Pan, more than anything, didn’t want to leave Arielle behind. Arielle, with her boundless energy and courage, accurately represented by the dog she had permanently settled as. Who loved to chase Pan around in impromptu games of tag that she always won.

Pan never minded. Arielle was amazing company, and she didn’t mind how shy he was all the time. Before his settling, she had always encouraged him to try to morph into larger animals. Pan knew she meant well, but it was just something he was never comfortable with. He associated dogs and wolves with bravery, and he… he was nothing more than a weakling and a coward. He can’t save Colette.

Perhaps that’s why he settled as a hummingbird. Tiny and powerless.

He can’t change anything. All he can do is stay by Colette’s side, always. Be her emotional support, her closest friend, and the one who will die with her.

And, for now, he would simply enjoy the warmth of Arielle’s fur.

~~~

Arielle had, technically, been the first one to meet Colette. All she had been trying to do was jump from tree to tree as a cat while an exasperated seven-year-old Lloyd had chased after her on the ground, asking her to get down before she hurt herself.

Inevitably, Arielle had slipped. And fallen straight into the arms of a startled six-year-old, staring down at the Dæmon in her arms that was not her own with wide blue eyes.

It had been a strange feeling, to be touched by a person other than Lloyd. Arielle had very quickly learned that people were not meant to touch others' Dæmons. Dirk had made that taboo very clear when she’d sidled up to him as a polecat, with Marie the mole looking particularly unimpressed.

What had followed had been an admonishment from Marie that had lasted 30 minutes. Arielle, who had been sulking at the time, retained little. What stuck with her was how no person was allowed to touch you other than your counterpart. It was the grossest violation that existed, almost like the desecration of a person’s soul. Arielle knew it was serious, so she had stopped trying to jump on people’s heads for fun.

The girl that Arielle would soon learn was called Colette had, as gingerly as possible, placed Arielle on the ground. Then she had backed away quickly, both her and her Dæmon apologising profusely. Pan had been morphing extremely quickly, to the point that Arielle hadn’t been able to pin down a single form. It had been a clear sign of both Colette’s and Pan’s nervousness.

Arielle had been frozen in shock. It… hadn’t felt earth-shatteringly wrong to be held by someone else. She had only ever known Lloyd’s touch, and Colette’s touch had not been… unwelcome.

Lloyd had run up by that point, and Arielle supposed the rest was history. None of them ever really brought up the incident again. It was the one thing Arielle had never disclosed to Lloyd, and she didn’t quite know how she felt about the whole thing.

Dæmons, however, were allowed to mingle amongst themselves, so Pan was fair game. Arielle loved spending time with Pan. She supposed it was inevitable, given that Lloyd was so close to Colette. Two people who were close friends would naturally have two Dæmons who were close to each other, or they wouldn’t have been compatible, to begin with. But Arielle liked Pan for who he was: always fussing over others, but yet incredibly shy.

It was why she constantly encouraged him to morph into larger animals by constantly engaging Pan in her little games. Arielle had never really succeeded in her objective, but at least Pan seemed to be having fun.

And that made Arielle happy, for Pan was always so reserved. If she could help him relax just a little bit, then she was glad. But what exactly was it that always made Pan seem so tired? She wanted to know, but Lloyd didn’t want to push.

In the end, Pan had settled as a hummingbird. And Arielle thought that fit him. Her heart always felt like it was fluttering whenever she was near him, and she was certain that Lloyd felt the same about Colette. A Dæmon almost always felt the same way as their counterpart.

Even if it was something too embarrassing to discuss.

And even if a hummingbird was small, it had a hidden strength. A bird that could flap its wings so quickly that it could still fly, even with its small size. A hidden strength that Arielle was certain both Colette and Pan possessed.

But still, Arielle wanted to protect Pan. She wanted to be able to protect all those she loved, whether it be a person or a Dæmon. Colette had laughed when she’d seen Arielle’s final form as a dog and commented that it fit both of them. Loyalty, bravery and a protector. That was what Colette had said. Arielle hoped that meant she could better protect others.

There was one other reason Arielle had always favoured dogs and wolves.

Pan knew where his name had come from. But all Arielle could remember of Lloyd’s parents was the warmth of being enveloped in fur that was not her own and the cheery chirps of a bird, always arranged into a melodious song. She could not remember who had named her.

Arielle liked to think that, by permanently taking the form of a dog, she was just that one bit closer to the parents who were no longer by their side.

She hoped that was able to bring Lloyd just the slightest bit of comfort.

~~~

Lloyd stood frozen, watching as the girl with golden hair gently set Arielle on the ground.

Dad had always taught him that he should never let anyone touch his Dæmon. The pain would be excruciating for both him and Arielle, Dad had warned, like someone had reached straight into his soul and twisted.

But what Lloyd felt now was nothing like that. It simply felt… warm. Like he was being cradled gently as well. He didn’t know how to characterise how he felt.

Perhaps it was because the girl meant no harm?

It was then that Arielle ran up to his feet, breaking Lloyd out of his trance.

He would dwell on that moment for years to come, even though he and Arielle would never discuss what happened. What, exactly, had he been feeling?

~~~

Lloyd watched Arielle, having morphed into a labrador, pin Pan to the ground. “Sorry, Colette,” he sighed. “I don’t know why she’s being so unruly right now.”

“It’s fine, Lloyd. If Pan doesn’t mind, then there isn’t a problem,” Colette muttered. “They’ll be settling soon, won’t they? You’re turning 14 next week…”

“I’m not too worried. I’ll just let nature take its course.” Lloyd shrugged, mind wandering to what Dad will serve for dinner that night. “Why do Dæmons need to settle anyway?”

“Because one day, everyone grows up. And we stop changing.” Maybe if Lloyd had paid attention at that moment, he would have seen the faraway look on Colette’s face.

But he’s preoccupied watching Pan run by and resisting the urge to reach out, even for just the slightest of moments.

Curiosity filled him. What would it feel like to touch Pan, just like Colette had once touched Arielle?

But still, he pulled his hand back, knowing it would be wrong. “What did you say?” Lloyd asked, turning to face Colette, who once again had a smile on her face.

“Nothing!” She answered cheerily, shaking her head. “Just that you haven’t been listening to Professor Raine again…”

“That’s not my fault! It’s just so hard!”

And things were once again back to normal.

~~~

Kratos woke up, more often than not, to Jordan’s singing. The nightingale had never let anything stop his singing.

It had been what attracted his attention in the first place in the monotone halls of the Ranch. A Dæmon that was trapped, but still sang loudly and beautifully of freedom. The song had reached deep within the heart that he had thought long dead to awaken emotions he hadn’t felt in centuries.

It had entranced Lyra as well, drew both of them towards the pair trapped within a dungeon of suffering but yet could still sing of hope.

Anna would become the strongest person he had ever known, with Jordan being the perfect Dæmon to encompass that. Someone who would never let their spirit be broken no matter what was thrown at them.

“He doesn’t stop singing, does he?” Kratos muttered, tugging Anna closer. He didn’t need to sleep, but it was one of his greatest joys to simply let himself fall into a peaceful slumber with Anna at his side.

“You can’t make him,” Anna teased, the content smile on her face highlighting her rosy cheeks and the weight she was starting to regain.

Instead of retorting, he simply silenced her with a kiss, swallowing her protests.

Happiness. He had almost forgotten what it felt like, lost in the memories of Martel’s bright smile and Christopher’s bright feathers, washed away in the blood that had stained the grass that day.

He had committed so many sins and had the blood of countless innocents on his hands. He had believed he would only have Lyra for company for however longer Mithos and Will continued in their madness, for Lyra was just as complicit as him. They were but two murderers, tied together.

He didn’t deserve forgiveness or peace. But here, in the arms of his beloved, with Lyra sleeping peacefully at the bedside and Jordan’s cheerful song washing over him, he could forget about all that had happened in the past. He could simply exist, here and now.

It made him finally glad that his Dæmon had taken the form of a lion. A protector, his mother had whispered, trying to comfort him when he’d been nothing but a distraught child.

Kratos hadn’t felt like he deserved that when he’d been helpless so many times, frozen in horror as he watched those he loves bleed to death before him. Martel, and before that his mother.

But this… This family he had somehow gained, which only grew with the addition of Lloyd and Arielle, was something that he and Lyra would fiercely protect.

On a stormy night, Kratos would leave the house, not knowing that this would be the final time he heard the nightingale sing.

Once again, he failed to protect anything.

~~~

It’s nostalgic, almost, to feel Arielle curl up next to her. It reminded Lyra of better days when a still-morphing Arielle had loved to climb and bury herself in Lyra’s coat of fur.

Arielle had settled already, without Lyra there to witness it. Just another thing that she had missed in an endless litany that had been Lloyd's life.

“Arielle!” Lloyd called exasperatedly from his spot by the campfire. “Stop bothering Lyra.”

Lloyd was eyeing her nervously like he expected Lyra to bite his head off. That was silly, but he must still be wary of her and Kratos. Not that she could blame Lloyd. To him, they must have been strangers. And she knew her form could be intimidating.

Lloyd had grown up so much. He was no longer the small child who she had comforted with an embrace whenever he had nightmares. The loving touch of a parent’s Dæmon was acceptable, as was any touch spawned out of love instead of malice.

She couldn’t reach out to him now, no matter how much she wanted to. Neither of them could.

She didn’t have the right to, not after failing to protect those she loved 14 years ago. Kratos had asked her to stay with Anna and Lloyd, given her ability to go further than any other Dæmon. Becoming an Angel stripped a person and their Dæmon of the majority of the link that tied them to each other. It meant that their relationship was less intimate, but that Lyra could go anywhere she wanted to.

Lyra had followed Kratos’ request until Anna had successfully convinced her to go back to him. After all, Anna had insisted, a person was not at their full strength without their Dæmon, no matter the existence of the full link or not.

It was a decision she would regret forever, and the smell of blood and the mangled scene that followed would haunt her dreams. Her heart had shattered that day, as she was sure Kratos’ had as well, and it had never healed.

Except it had begun to meld together, just the tiniest bit. Knowing that Lloyd and Arielle were alright had been enough.

But in the end, all she and Kratos would be able to do was their job. Escort the Chosen, and then disappear forever.

Lloyd and Arielle would hate them forever, but that was to be expected. They deserve nothing less.

It didn’t matter if they could be happy and safe. That was all that mattered.

~~~

Lloyd couldn’t quite comprehend what had happened. One second the monster had been about to sink its teeth into his arm, and the next he had been knocked to the ground by Lyra, mouth open in a ruthless snarl.

Lloyd could only watch on in shock as the battle raged on, Lyra stoutly protecting him until Kratos hauled him up.

Later, Lloyd would ask Lyra why. Yes, she had saved his life and he was grateful, but she had purposely risked her own and Kratos’ life. If someone’s Dæmon died, that person would die as well. Lyra had even voluntarily touched him when before, both Lyra and Kratos seemed to want Lloyd gone.

Lyra had been as taciturn as ever, giving him non-answers and avoiding the question like she always did. Lloyd was left with no choice but to give up.

It’s not like it mattered. He would never see them again after the end of this journey.

Lloyd couldn’t quite chase away the slight feeling of regret that thought brought with it.

~~~

Julian settled as an owl when Raine was 14 and Genis was 3. They were still running across Sylvarant, trying to find a place to live where they wouldn’t be chased away and treated like monsters. It was such a frantic time that Raine hadn’t dwelled on her Dæmon settling. She was simply thankful that Julian was a diurnal species and was available to help her in the day, and that she wouldn’t have to change her sleep schedule to something akin to a vampire. Timothy seemed to like Julian’s form too, for he enjoyed being carried by Julian into the sky.

Otherwise, Raine had no other concerns over her Dæmon. Julian was her closest companion, the only one apart from Genis and his Dæmon who knew the secret she and Genis were hiding. He had been there for her in the moments when the responsibility of taking care of a child when she was naught but a child herself had gotten too much to handle, when she had felt like giving up. Julian had been Raine’s only support until Genis and Timothy were old enough to begin to understand and take up just a little bit of responsibility.

It was only after Raine and Genis had permanently settled down in Iselia that the fears over Julian’s final form began to hit her.

Even as the memory of her mother began to fade, one detail remained clear in Raine’s mind. Her mother’s Dæmon had been an owl as well. Worse, it was the same breed as Julian had become.

Any similarity Raine bore to her mother made her feel sick. It was bad enough that the face that stared back at her in the mirror undoubtedly belonged to her mother. To realise that something as intimate and life-changing as a Dæmon was the same as well…

It was horrifying for Raine to think that she could be anything like her mother. That perhaps one day, she would simply grow tired of it all and abandon Genis, the same way their parents had abandoned them.

So Raine sought to suppress those thoughts, pushing them away to the deepest corners of her mind while Julian reassured her that things would never turn out that way. After all, Julian told her, surely she could see that she loved her little brother too much to do something like that?

Raine understood that what Julian said was true and that he was the voice of reason. But it wasn’t called an irrational fear for nothing. She couldn’t get it out of her head, no matter what she tried.

But things got even worse when one day, Genis had asked her where their parents were.

“Sis should know, right? Your Dæmon’s an owl, so that means you’re all-knowing!”

Raine had looked into her little brother’s innocent eyes, heart sinking in her chest, and truthfully told him that she didn’t know. There was no lie she could tell. Her little brother had been heartbroken, Timothy along with him.

A few years later, eyes just a little sadder, Genis had asked why their parents had left them here.

Dæmons were supposed to represent a person, weren’t they? To show who they truly were?

An owl was meant to represent knowledge and wisdom. So why was it that, for the one question Raine truly wanted to resolve, she had no answer?

~~~

Martel’s Dæmon had been beautiful. Asriel had been a peacock, and a proud one at that, sticking out among the ragtag group of tired people and Dæmons that Yuan first came across.

Perhaps Yuan and Margot had fallen in love with Martel and Asriel at that very moment. Yuan thought a peacock fit Martel. Inner beauty and strength, which often shone in Martel. It represented her amazingly.

Margot had settled as a crow. From that moment, others had shunned him because he was perceived to bring misfortune, for crows represented bad luck and deception. It was something Yuan had mentioned to Martel once, hesitantly, wondering if she would reject him just like everyone else had.

Martel had laughed and shut him up with a kiss, telling him that he was being silly. She had whispered against his lips that a Dæmon was a representation of yourself, but that only you could decide what it meant. No one was limited by what their Dæmon became. Why let what others said control you?

Martel believed that a Dæmon represented the best of a person. And Yuan thought that maybe he could believe that too. That he wasn’t cursed or whatever other names he had been called in the past by cruel people who couldn’t see past his Dæmon’s form.

Yuan had wondered if the day would finally come where he could touch Asriel. The action of touching another person’s Dæmon could only occur if two people truly trusted each other and loved each other. It was a sacred act. Otherwise, it was forbidden.

Instead, the only time Yuan would ever be able to touch Asriel was a final comforting touch as he choked on the scent of blood, powerless to do anything as life left Martel. Martel had tried to comfort Mithos, but Asriel had been quaking.

Dæmons understood your deepest emotions, and it had been heartbreaking to know that Martel was putting on a strong face but was, in fact, terrified. The war was over, so why was this happening?

Yuan had let Mithos be with Martel for her final moments while Yuan had comforted Asriel. And he had watched Asriel fade away into motes of light as Martel had closed her eyes for the final time.

Yuan had never felt more grief and guilt than at that moment, wondering if he could have done anything. He and Margot should have followed Martel and Asriel instead of agreeing to stay behind. And the doubt was back, creeping through the back of his mind.

Had he truly cursed her by being with her?

And in the aftermath, all that was left was a broken boy with a Dæmon that would never settle. Becoming an Angel meant severing the link that held Dæmon and person together in the most excruciating way possible, meaning a Dæmon could go anywhere he or she wanted. Perhaps most people would wish for that if they didn’t know what it felt like. It was terrible.

A Dæmon was supposed to know you better than anyone else, and for that fundamental knowledge to no longer be true was devastating. The basic security that the presence of a Dæmon provided had been stripped away, leaving behind nothing but desolation and loneliness.

And Yuan could do nothing as he watched Mithos fall to the point of no return.

~~~

Crows were also a sign of betrayal, weren’t they?

Ironic, then, that Yuan would have to betray all the people he had once loved.

Would any of them be able to forgive him? It was a question he often mulled upon during quiet moments in his office, trying to drown the intruding thoughts in alcohol that failed to dull his senses.

Once the truth was out, it was unlikely that any of them would be willing to look at him again. One lost to insanity, the other lost to a heart that had turned to stone. And all of them, himself included, were lost to the throes of grief.

But then again, once the truth was out, Yuan would either be dead or he would have killed those he loved. And that would be akin to killing himself.

There was no comfort to be found anywhere. Only more heartbreak and misfortune, just like Margot’s form had foretold.

At least it was useful for reconnaissance. After all, no one would look twice at a crow in a tree.

~~~

Lloyd never really thought twice about Dæmons. They were something everyone had. It was a basic rule of the world.

And he was thankful that he had Arielle. Someone that would always be there for him, and who he could confide in about anything and everything. She was someone who understood everything he felt without him having to explain.

Somehow, Arielle was even more outgoing than he was. Sometimes to an excessive amount, but that’s what made Arielle Arielle.

Otherwise, he paid little mind to the specifics of Dæmons. He knew they settled and knew the taboo about touching others’ Dæmons, but that was it. So he cared little that Arielle settled as a dog, though he was happy that she liked her form.

He didn’t understand why some people were so concerned with what their Dæmons became. Did it matter all that much? The people around him in Iselia, even Colette, always said that Arielle’s form meant that he was a loyal person. That he was a protector.

But Lloyd didn’t feel that way. Arielle settling as a dog didn’t make him feel any different. He was just… himself. Much in the same way Arielle was still herself, no matter what she settled as.

Lloyd had more important things to worry about. Like Desians, and the journey Colette would one day undertake.

~~~

At the Tower of Salvation, Lloyd understood, finally, the disconnect between your Dæmon’s form and who you were.

Lloyd was powerless to do anything, even as he screamed for Colette not to go. He couldn’t imagine a life without her: a life without her smile to brighten up his day, a life where Pan wasn’t there for Arielle to mess around with. Such a life… it seemed like the darkest and dreariest existence possible.

But still, Lloyd could do nothing as Colette’s voice echoed in his mind and she told him goodbye. His and Arielle’s pleas were in vain, for Colette’s mind had long since been made up. She could offer him nothing more than a sad smile. Pan, having lost his ability to speak, could express nothing.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he watched Remiel snatch Pan from Colette’s desperate grip, pure anguish alighting in her eyes for a split second before they went completely blank.

Nothing could describe how Lloyd felt as he watched Pan fall to the ground, grey and lifeless. It’s wrong. Any Dæmon was supposed to be full of life, especially Pan, who was always in motion, wings flapping as he flew around as a vibrant yellow blur.

Everything was wrong as, in the chaos of their escape from the Tower of Salvation, Lloyd was the one who had to scoop up Pan. He should not be handling someone else’s Dæmon, especially someone as important to him as Colette. It was the grossest breach of trust, but Arielle was no help, seeming to have gone into some kind of shock.

What’s even worse was that the sense of wrongness was only due to his knowledge of the taboo. There was no instinctual feeling of wrongness, as it doesn’t feel like he’s holding an extension of someone’s soul or even a living creature.

He’s wondered many times what it would like to touch Pan, but it shouldn’t be like this.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on how Pan laid in his hands like a dead animal until after the ensuing chaos at the Renegade base. Until finally, free to sit down on the bed in the inn of Meltokio, Lloyd could think over everything that had happened.

There’s a bitter taste in his mouth as he recalled the praise the villagers of Iselia had heaped on him. He was meant to protect others, huh? He hadn’t managed to protect Colette at all. He had unknowingly, but willingly, led her to the Tower where she had sacrificed herself.

It was a miracle that Colette was still here, still alive. So Lloyd would work to keep it that way and to find some way to free her soul and reconnect her and Pan.

“Hey, Arielle,” Lloyd whispered to his Dæmon, who he knew was hiding under the bed right now. Arielle had been jumpy ever since the events of the Tower and seemed to refuse to face anyone, even Lloyd. Shame, perhaps? Lloyd could understand what it felt like. They had both failed.

“I know that… it feels like you don’t deserve your form right now. That we’re powerless. But there’s nothing else we can do but try. If we try, then… then maybe…” Lloyd closed his eyes, knowing that if Colette could, she would be encouraging him right now. “Maybe we’ll become worthy someday.”

~~~

Colette sobbed, cradling Pan as close as possible like she was trying to fuse them into one.

When her soul had been sealed away, Colette had finally experienced what it meant to be well and truly alone. She had screamed and cried in the darkness, and for the first time, there had been no response. Because Pan wasn’t there, and therefore there had been no one. No one to comfort her, to listen to her, to accept her no matter who she was or what she became.

Loneliness. That was true loneliness.

The only thing that had kept her sane was listening to Lloyd’s voice and the things he would tell her: whether it be the events of that day, Lloyd’s thoughts, or what he felt at the moment. Arielle would tune in sometimes, too. She was mostly just trying to annoy Lloyd, but it added an important element of normalcy.

She wanted, so desperately, to reply. To tell him what she thought, to comfort him, tell him that everything wasn’t his fault. It had been her choice, her duty, to sacrifice herself.

Except it wasn’t, was it? It had all been a lie. She had caused Lloyd so much pain and ripped apart her bond with Pan for nothing more than a lie.

Finally free and able to move again, the first thing Colette had done was try to find Pan. It had been terrifying, as for just one split second, she had been unable to sense his presence and had thought him well and truly gone.

Pan had flown into her hands, then, and she hadn’t let go since.

She’s afraid to let go. Afraid that if she did, Pan would disappear like he was never here. Their bond had been shattered and then rebuilt, but it would never be as strong as before. And Pan should -

“I don’t hate you,” Pan whispered, nuzzling closer. “I never could. I’ll always be your Dæmon, no matter what.”

And Colette only cried harder, happiness warming her heart.

~~~

Genis had never liked the forms Timothy took. Timothy hardly ever morphed away from a rabbit, and that only made Genis feel more vulnerable.

Rabbits were prey, meant to be hunted for sport or entertainment, much the same way half-elves were treated here in Sylvarant. He and Raine would never be able to erase their half-elf blood, which meant they would always have to live with an underlying sense of fear.

Genis hated that.

Everything just made Genis feel weaker, but he wasn’t going to bring it up with Timothy. If Timothy felt safer that way, then Genis had no right to ask Timothy to change.

Genis just hoped that someday, he would stop feeling so scared. That maybe Timothy could feel confident enough to take some other form and stop hiding in the shrubbery all the time.

But that was just a useless, hopeless dream, wasn’t it? Things had been like this for who knows how long. How would anything ever change?

~~~

Mithos didn’t cry easily, something that worried Martel. To her, tears were hard to come by after years of witnessing the carnage of war and all the devastation it wrought. Somewhere along the way, the tears had simply dried up.

But Mithos was still a child. He shouldn’t be used to the horrors of war, and Martel hated that the world had forced him to be that way. Forced him to grow up so quickly that he’d lost his only chance of being a child.

The one thing that reassured her was the excited manner in which Mithos asked when Will would settle. It was such a… mundane question, something children loved to ask. It was cute, honestly, to see her little brother show such childlike excitement.

Mithos had told her that he wanted to know who he was. Martel had teased him that he just needed to be patient. She had wondered whether to tell him that there was no need to pay such close attention to the form of his Dæmon but decided against it. She would let Mithos have his fun. He deserved it.

But Will would never settle.

And the first time Martel saw Mithos cry again would be the day she died. She had tried so hard to comfort him that day, to tell him that he would be alright. Despite the terrible events of the war, the two siblings had gained a family and one that Martel would forever be thankful for. Even though she would have to leave him that day, Mithos wouldn’t be alone with just Will for company.

And Martel could only watch as everything went wrong. Watch as Mithos drifted away from everyone, even Will, slowly sinking further into insanity, clutching onto any attempt to revive her. Martel was all alone, knowing that Asriel was somewhere but unable to find him.

And Will would never settle, for Mithos had frozen his clock. That excited question he had once asked would never be answered.

“It’s alright. Everything will be alright once we're together again. Right, Sis?”

Martel could only watch in growing desperation and grief as all those that she loved continued to get more and more blood on their hands. Where had it all gone wrong?

~~~

“Your Dæmon’s a boy too,” Mithos muttered, watching Timothy chase after Will. They were both butterflies now, wings sparkling in the sunlight as they fluttered through the sky above the flowers in Altessa’s garden.

“Like yours. It’s rare for anyone to have a Dæmon of the same gender as themselves. What’s the probability both of us do?”

“So rare I don’t want to calculate it.” The corner of Mithos’ mouth quirked up into a smile, sending a current of warmth down Genis’ side. “It’s something else we have in common. How strange.”

It was nice to have a friend his age that was also a half-elf. Genis was glad that coming to Tethealla had allowed him to meet such a special individual, even if the actual circumstances were terrible. He had thought he would never meet someone who had the same experiences.

Now he had gained a friend who understood how he felt and that he wouldn’t outlive.

Genis continued to watch their two Dæmons and observed Will flying even further away, almost to the limit that a Dæmon could reach from its counterpart.

In the coming days, Genis would realise that this was something Will repeatedly did. Confused, he would ask Mithos why Will always flew so far away from Mithos, always at the limit of the bond a person and Dæmon shared. Did it not hurt?

Mithos would shrug in response, answering that it was something Will had always done and that the two of them were simply used to it. There had been something raw and vulnerable in Mithos’ expression that made Genis uneasy, but he didn’t dare question Mithos on it. It seemed like something too private to ask.

Genis couldn’t understand why any Dæmon would consistently try to test the limit of their bond given how much it hurt. That bond was something to be treasured, for it meant your Dæmon was still there. A consistent companion meant you would never be alone.

Then again, he’d seen stranger things. Humans lost in the ranches, the bond between them and their Dæmon completely severed, leaving both looking like grey ghosts. It was cruel, for no person could survive without their Dæmon.

Then there was Tabatha, who didn’t have a Dæmon at all. It was unnatural, and almost unnerving sometimes. But she was just as alive as any of them.

So maybe there wasn’t anything too strange about a Dæmon who seemed to want to be free from the person they were bonded to. It was something he didn’t understand about Mithos, but he wouldn’t question it.

Genis never connected that the savage wolf by Yggdrasill’s side was the same being as the beautiful, fragile butterfly that flew next to Mithos. Not until it was too late.

The final time Genis sees Mithos, it is only a remnant of him, fading fast. Will is but a spectre, a beautiful butterfly with the same rainbow wings as Mithos.

And somehow, Genis feels like Will has finally settled. At long last, they are both free.

~~~

The first time Sheena met Zelos was the only time she would see him genuinely scared for years to come. He had physically flinched and even gone pale as a sheet, his Dæmon wrapping herself around his arm like it was trying to hide from Sheena.

Zelos never reacted the same way again, but he always seemed nervous when they met up for the first few times. The way both Zelos and Martha’s gaze would stray towards her Dæmon occasionally didn’t go unnoticed.

She didn’t understand what about Martin was so special or terrifying. Martin had settled earlier than most when Sheena was just 12. He’d settled as a wildcat, something Sheena was thankful for. There were members of Mizuho who were unable to become ninjas despite their training for the sole reason that their Dæmons were unsuitable. That was simply the cruel reality since one couldn’t control what their Dæmons would settle as, and one’s Dæmon could never leave one’s side.

It was something Grandpa would have praised her for, but Grandpa wasn’t here to do that. And that was Sheena’s fault.

The isolation from the villagers and the loneliness she experienced was something she had brought upon herself for failing to form a pact with Volt. She deserves nothing less for all the innocent lives that had been ended that day and the harm that had been inflicted on Grandpa.

She had failed, and that was all that mattered. At least she would never be fully alone, for Martin was always with her. They could commiserate in their guilt.

For just 2 short years, Zelos and Martha became part of her world as well. It had been an incredible feeling, for her and Martin to not be entirely alone anymore. For there to be a friend that she could confide in and trust.

It had taken time, but Zelos eventually got accustomed to seeing Martin. And Martin loved playing with Martha. Her Dæmon had never gotten much chance to play with other Dæmons, given how no one would approach her in Mizuho, and no one in Meltokio even wanted to get close to her.

And then Zelos Wilder had shattered her heart with a cruel smile and a nonchalant shrug. She had handed over her heart with reckless abandon, and he hadn’t valued it. It had meant nothing to him.

And Sheena was left alone with just Martin again, left to cry over all the people who had left her life. Martin was, clearly, the only one she could trust to stay by her side. That, and her newfound companion, Corinne.

“I shouldn’t have expected anything better from a person with a snake for a Dæmon.”

That wasn’t something fair to say. Grandpa had told her that a Dæmon didn’t necessarily dictate who you were. It may show aspects of your personality, but it didn’t control you. A person could always change.

She would regret saying that to his face for years to come but didn’t know how to ever bring it up again. Not when she couldn’t talk to Zelos without him and Martha ridiculing her. Every interaction with them after only served to enrage her until she had no choice but to avoid them.

Still, Sheena would never be able to forget the split second of hurt that had flickered across his face before vanishing as if it had never been there.

~~~

The night before their ascent into the Tower of Salvation, Zelos disappeared from his inn room.

The entire journey into Flanoir, Zelos had been withdrawn and quiet, a large contrast to his usual abrasive self. Martha had seemed almost shy, avoiding contact with any of the other Dæmons like she usually did, instead spending her time wrapped around Zelos’ arm. Every few minutes, Martha would flinch like she was recoiling away from Zelos, which made no sense. Sheena had never known of a Dæmon that was physically repulsed by their counterpart's touch.

It reminded her of their behaviour when she and Zelos had just met. But why would he be acting like this now? It worried her, and she couldn’t leave him alone. Not after all the tragic events of the night and the growing suspicion that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Sheena found him easily by following his tracks in the snow. Martin could have easily sniffed Zelos out, but this saved him the trouble.

And under the falling snow, she would finally tell him what she had bottled up for years.

“Snakes aren’t just about deceit. In Mizuhoan culture, they represent the duality of good and evil. You choose what you do and who you become. Remember that, OK?”

It was an apology she had owed him. The way society automatically characterised people by their Dæmons was something Mizuho had always railed against, and yet she had stooped to that despicable level in her anger.

Faced with a still impassive Zelos and with Martha not meeting her eyes, Sheena could only hope that, somehow, the message had gotten through.

~~~~

Regal’s Dæmon settled rather late as a mountain goat when he’s 16. His family seemed rather confused, with his Father finally concluding that it was rather meek, but at least nothing depraved.

Alicia’s Dæmon had been a canary. Cheery and hopeful, just like her. Despite striking out alone to a big city, she had never let that get her down. She had remained smiling and been a bright spot in his dreary life.

He had wanted to protect that beautiful smile, hoping Alicia would remain in his life. But of course, that wouldn’t be the case.

Regal had watched Alicia die in his arms, still smiling and trying to comfort him, like the kind person she inherently was. Ariana had been bleating in distress, trying to get Oliver to respond.

But there was nothing Regal could do. It was far too late. He couldn’t save Alicia, and her blood was on his hands.

Years later, he would recognise Alicia’s image in Presea. An almost lifeless girl with the same pink hair and blue eyes, trailed by a Dæmon who didn’t seem to register anything around him. Another tragic victim to Rodyle’s Exsphere experiments, who had lost 16 years of her life and didn’t even know it.

Her Dæmon had somehow settled in those 16 years. A swan, elegant and graceful. Something that Presea couldn’t seem to accept, just as much as she initially denied the death of her sister.

Regal had heard a story, once when he was young, about how a goat was sacrificed to absolve sin. Perhaps it was a sign that Ariana had settled as a goat. He hoped, then, that Presea could get her revenge. He didn’t deserve to live with all the sins he carried on his back that could only be absolved by paying his life. Surely, that would make Presea feel better. What better resolution could she receive than the death of her sister’s murderer?

But, in the end, Presea didn’t bring down that axe.

And Regal was forced to live on, shouldering the sin he had committed and the hopes that Alicia had once held. To die would be to let down Alicia, for he would never be able to make up for anything he had done in death.

“A goat represents an opportunity. An opportunity to move forward, and become more.”

Those were the final words Alicia told him before Presea shattered her exsphere forever.

It had been that simple, all along.

And Regal would do his absolute best to protect this world, innocents and Presea in honour of her sister.

Regal hoped that, someday, Presea would be able to accept herself for who she was.

~~~

“Martha! Stop hiding in the cups!” Zelos yelled, scanning the kitchen exasperatedly.

“Hiding again, is she?” Sheena elbowed her husband, watching his predicament with amusement. “You know she likes it because of how warm it is.”

“Found her!” Martin announced, marching into the kitchen carefully holding Martha between two paws.

“Let go of me!” Martha complained, struggling half-heartedly against Martin’s grip. “Am I not allowed to have a nap?”

“Very funny, Martha. You’ve been sleeping the whole afternoon. Now come over here, I need your venom!”

Sheena leaned against the kitchen counter, content to watch Zelos bicker good-naturedly with his Dæmon while Martin egged them on. Zelos was so much more at ease now, happy with himself and his Dæmon.

Everything was alright, and things could only get better.

~~~

“Hello, Genis.” Presea waved in greeting, a small smile on her face that Genis was glad to see. It showed him that Presea was learning to express herself better.

Brandon, flapping his wings, honked in greeting, leading Timothy to gently butt him in the head. Thankfully not too hard. Even as a small antelope, Timothy still had enough strength to potentially push Brandon into the canal next to the Altamira Amusement Park.

Not that it would be a disaster, since Brandon was a swan. But the problem would be getting Brandon out of the water without Presea also having to get in the water.

“How long are you stopping off for?” Presea asked, one watchful eye on Brandon, who was now running awkward circles around Timothy. Brandon is a lot more animated now than he was years ago, just as Presea now seemed much more alive.

“Just today. Then I’m heading to Exire to visit my mother with Raine,” Genis replied, gently patting Brandon on the head. “I’m sorry that I can’t stay longer. But enough about me. What about you? How are you doing?”

Presea’s smile grew brighter as she turned to look at the bright lights of Altamira, the wind now whipping her long pink hair around. She’d grown, no longer frozen as a child who didn’t understand what had happened to her and why, able to enjoy the world.

And even if both of their Dæmons had settled, they were still young and free to explore this world. They were free to find out who they were, not held back by the restrictions of society.

Everyone was free to find out the meaning their Dæmon’s held, for people would always change. No one was static.

“Good. Everything’s good.”

~~~

Somehow, amid their journey, they had ended up in Flanoir again. Given that Flanoir had only one inn, it wasn’t odd that they had ended up in the same room that Lloyd had stayed in the last time they were here.

Not that Lloyd particularly cared about the details right now. Without the weight of the world hanging on his shoulders, he could simply stand on the balcony and enjoy the night.

And he could freely admire Colette, who was standing next to him with Pan resting on her shoulder, cheeks flushed from the cold and a red scarf wrapped around her neck. She had a hand stretched out into the night sky, eagerly catching snowflakes like it was her first time seeing snow. It wasn’t, but her excitement was contagious.

That excitement was encouraging Arielle to roll around in the snow at his feet, but that was a problem to be dealt with at another time. After all, it was difficult to do much now other than stare at Colette. She was beautiful like this, outlined by the light from the stars and looking so at ease when just a year before, she had seemed reluctant to let herself freely enjoy the world.

Without much thought, Lloyd reached out his hand, pausing just above Pan’s head. It was reminiscent of the many times he had reached out to touch Pan, only to realise and stop himself.

Lloyd had learned, over time, that touching another person’s Dæmon wasn’t always taboo. It was simply… Well, incredibly intimate. Unwanted touches could cause damage, and that wasn’t what he wanted to achieve. He would never forget the pain that Remiel had caused, and Lloyd promised he would never let that happen to anyone he loved, least of all Colette. She had suffered enough.

He lets out a single breath that crystallises before his eyes, meeting Colette’s gaze. It was like she knew what he wanted to do, having turned to face him directly. And with gravity, she nodded as Pan chirped his approval.

Gingerly, he placed his hand on Pan’s head, gently ruffling his feathers.

He would never forget the expression on Colette’s face. The wonder, the joy and the love.

~~~

How could she ever explain it? The sensation of your Dæmon being touched by a hand that is not yours.

From young, she had always been taught that the touch of another was taboo. She had realised why, when upon Remiel laying his hands on Pan, the only thing she had felt was excruciating pain. Like someone was stabbing a knife straight into her heart and twisting.

But she had finally learned that it was the intention behind the touch that mattered. And she knew what Lloyd’s intention was, standing there among the snow in Flanoir with her. Surely, he was driven by the same emotion that filled her whenever Lloyd took her hands, whenever Lloyd smiled at her, whenever Lloyd was with her. The emotion that made her feel giddy and light, which made both her and Pan perk up whenever Lloyd and Arielle were in the vicinity, that made her incredibly happy to still be alive in this world so that she could experience all of it with him.

Colette was unable to stop the shudder that ran down her back as Lloyd caressed Pan’s head. It was a beautiful feeling.

To know that you were loved, for all and everything that you were.

~fin~

~~~

Dæmon List

Lloyd Arielle settles as a Labrador. Dogs represent loyalty.

Colette Pan is named after Pantalaimon from His Dark Materials. There is no yellow hummingbird, unfortunately. The closest would be a male rufous hummingbird, which has a yellow patch on its neck. Hummingbirds represent love and joy.

Genis Initially, Timothy takes the form of a Holland Lop (a breed of rabbit with floppy ears). Vulnerability and fear. In the end, Timothy settles as a Dik-dik, which is a species of small antelope. Freedom and free-spirited!

Raine Julian takes the form of a Northern Pygmy-Owl, a diurnal owl. An owl represents wisdom and knowledge.

Presea Brandon settles as a swan, specifically a trumpeter swan. Swans represent elegance and grace.

Regal Ariane settles as a mountain goat. Goats are used as sacrifices in different religions. However, goats can also represent new opportunities.

Zelos Martha is named after the female snake on Hermes’ caduceus in Percy Jackson. Martha is a black mamba. Generally, snakes represent deceit and lies. However, in Japanese culture, snakes are often used to represent the duality of good and evil. Mylene Wilder (Zelos’ mother) has a tabby cat as a Dæmon. Zelos’ father has a tiger for a Dæmon. Tigers are associated with strength and courage.

Sheena Martin takes the form of a wildcat, specifically a Southern African wildcat. Cats themselves are associated with a difficulty in trusting, magic, and even healing.

Alicia Alicia’s Dæmon is a canary. Canaries represent happiness and selflessness.

Martel Asriel is a peacock. A peacock represents integrity, and can also symbolise guidance, protection and watchfulness.

Mithos Will is named after William Parry (nicknamed Will) from His Dark Materials. Will takes the form of a wolf by Yggdrasill’s side mostly for intimidation purposes. Wolves can represent the strength of spirit and also aggression. Otherwise, Will likes to stay as a butterfly even though he hasn’t settled, one with rainbow wings (though this breed does not exist in real-life). Butterflies represent metamorphosis and change.

Yuan Yuan’s Dæmon is a crow! Which represents deception and deceit but also represents intelligence and mischievousness. In many different cultures, the crow is a proponent of misfortune.

Kratos Lyra is named after Lyra Silvertongue from His Dark Materials. A lion is a symbol of strength and protection, especially in Eastern culture where lions are seen as protectors.

Anna Christopher is a nightingale, a breed of singing bird. It represents virtue and goodness.

~~~

Next fic in the series

[taintedbloom]

Say Amen // Archie & Amelia

Perhaps, it weren’t the brightest of ideas to enter his father’s office without his permission, in spite of the fact the office space was rarely used to start with, but the Devereaux patriarch’s untimely demise dampened the likeliness he would receive punishment for the trespassing. It is not as if Archie cared for the man, he discovered the acceptance he couldn’t feel anything for anyone, much less an absent father who took advantage of the wealth tacked onto his last name. His mother seized control of all financial aspects long before her husband expired, she evidently wore the pants in their relationship, and it was an unspoken truth in the household. 

In the seventeen years of his life, he and his eldest brother Grayson were entrapped by Amelia’s torrential competitiveness engulfing the brothers and while their bond suffered from such meddling, his relationship with every member of his family would not have improved regardless for the unfortunate parental methods. There was his brother, throwing about snarky side comments and refusing to stand up to their mother, their mother as a whole who mildly terrorized her children in a way that she played oblivious to, and dear old dad became the male socialite on steroids. Archie reminded himself of this as he lingered about the moderate length of the room, his fingers gliding along the smooth mahogany surface of the ornate desk.

“You should not be in here, Archibald.” The teenager’s gaze slowly lifted to meet his mother’s, whose form hovered in the doorway with her hands properly folded behind her back. That was the word to describe the woman, proper. Proper clothes, proper hair, proper posture, everything about her screamed frustratingly perfect and unkempt. It was a miracle how she fell in love with a husband farthest from flawlessness. “I needed a moment. Dad’s too dead to care.” His father’s funeral wake shoved Archie to his emotional limits. The shaking of hands and condolences, every lie spilling from the lips of those who pretended as if they painted a doting image of his father, disgusting. One more reeking pile of a bullshit story and he would have set the mansion ablaze. “Where’s Grayson?”

“Downstairs entertaining our guests where you are meant to be.” Amelia tensely replied, taking a few steps into the room, frowning at the work that will need to be done packing the rest of her husband’s belongings for storage. Or simply tossing everything in the trash saved her the trouble. “You needed a moment, right? Is that why I found a packed suitcase under your bed?” Her eyebrow lifted as her son’s briefly dropped and even if Archie experienced no shame hiding the evidence of his immediate escape not a single day that his father’s corpse had been in the ground, he was slightly guilty at himself for not concealing his post-funeral plans smarter. “As soon as the meaningless charade of a wake is over, I’m leaving.” Archie nonchalantly dropped the knowledge as his fingers wrapped around the carbon copy of the family portrait that was currently hanging above the living room’s fire place on the first level. All smiles, nothing screamed imperfect, though, the ten year old version of him could hide the almost dead look in his eyes. Something...unnerving.

“Excuse me?” The woman’s eyes narrowed into small slits, turning her nose up at the mere prospect of her son believing he possessed the nerve to leave home, “You’re not of age yet, Archibald, what would you possibly know of supporting yourself after the reliance this family has given you?” She spoiled her children, or more so their wealth spoiled them for her, but she prepared the boys for this cruel harsh world. Archie the most selfish, the most pampered of them all. “You are not leaving and shirking your responsibilities.”

“Yes, I am.” Archie placed aside the frame he was holding, feeling the same flare of rage tickling the surface of his subconscious. “School is finished, Father’s no longer stealing from my savings, and now there’s nothing left for me here.” Not to mention, his newfound career path Archie chose for himself. All it took were the right people to fall in step with, the right contacts providing the resources mandatory for blossoming the seed of a thought planted by those who uncovered extraordinary potential. He never picked up a gun before this, but now the weight it carried in his hand and tucked in the back of his suit pant waistband felt eerily natural. “Tragically heartbreaking as it is to confess, Mother, the thought of taking over your business would’ve certainly colored me envious for Father’s fate.”

Amelia pressed a hand to her chest at the young male’s statements, appalled by his ever careless nature and unsurprised at the brutal honesty. Speaking ill-will of the dead? She taught him better. “As willing as you are to erase the existence of your own family, my boy, you still live under my roof. The food you eat down to every last expensive article of clothing gracing your entire person is from the generosity of the high class I have dropped in your ungrateful hands. As this is my rules, my house, I am within my right to speak freely when I say,” Her chin slightly tilted, “You are not going anywhere, Archibald. Your attitude lately, for one, has been without a doubt the most unacceptable.” The woman scoffed, “You’ve been distant, distracted, you must take me for the fool when you believe I have not noticed when you sneak away at all ungodly hours of the night. It ends tonight, Archie. And quite frankly-”

“And you choose now of all days to share your complete truthful opinion.” The young male cut his mother’s statement short with a flourish of his hand, “When you have spent almost two decades of my entire life throwing me no more than manipulative lies and scrutiny.” Archie wouldn’t normally allow his temperament to graze the surface for the entertainment of the Devereaux matriarch, much less shatter the self-contained gentlemanly bearing, but Amelia knew what to speak, how to portray her attitude, to rile her child. “If you have something, anything to say, now is the time, Mother, because I guarantee you will not receive another chance as soon as the sun rises when I am gone tomorrow.” 

“You want honesty? No matter how harsh?” Amelia pressed a finger to her lip, mulling through the dozens of thoughts once remained unspoken. Her son’s curt nod forced the woman to continue, “I knew from the moment you were born, there was always something wrong with you, Archibald. You were too quiet as a child, too calm, too everything that should not have been possible of someone your age. You were cold to others, a difficulty empathizing, and while the latter trait I thought was an inheritance from your family lineage, you lack a filter and an unwillingness to make friends. And even with such a cutthroat heartless state, you were and are still a disappointment.” It might’ve been cruel and unjust, but he asked for honesty and honesty he shall bare, “I tried, for years, I tried preparing you and your brother for the lifetime that has been handed to you, but you’ve failed every expectation. You are selfish, conniving, arrogant, it is no wonder you have no stable relationships, no girlfriend or what have you. It’s not how a Devereaux acts. I detest saying this so openly, darling,” She paused, the regret she might experience later not bothering her the slightest, “I’m almost ashamed to call you my son.”

Archibald made the assumption she would back down from sharing a scrap of integrity and brush the conversational topic aside before leaving him to his devices, yet, she spilled seventeen years’ worth of what has remained bottled away for appearance’s sake. It all made perfect sense, the competitiveness, the silent dinners, the snide insults veiled by criticism, she hated him. Amelia did not need to express such, which was pointless attempting to spare his emotions when she shared the knowledge he couldn’t feel, but she one hundred percent hated his guts with every fiber of her being by the opinion he clutched closely. He heard nothing but the shrill ringing in his ears, saw nothing but flashes of his childhood memories pass his gaze as if someone pressed the fast forward button. Archie suddenly felt his hand reaching around, could feel his fingers encapsulate the cool metal of the gun hidden in his waistband, and only realized the gravity of his actions the second he heard the click of the gun’s hammer. The barrel...pointing straight at the woman who bore him into this world. “I was never enough for you.” His hand shook faintly even though he tried steadying it.

Amelia watched as her youngest son’s expression warped before her very eyes. She anticipated dismissal or even a slather of sarcasm to conceal how greatly her opinion mattered whether or not Archie faked his disinterest. Just as he preferred dismissing the can of worms he tore at the seams, the woman flickered her attention to fixing the watch clasped to her wrist. She noted the late hour and the awaiting guests missing the grieving widow’s presence before a small clicking sound caused Amelia to raise her head slowly, heart instantly pounding the moment she collided face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. “You wouldn’t pull the trigger, Archibald.” Her voice wavered and the man seemed to take satisfied joy in that, “Doesn’t change the truth and you know it.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Archie dropped his index finger to the trigger, hammering in his point, “I mean, you have granted me the perfect ammunition, Mother. It’s what we call a motive.” He tightened the grip on the weapon’s handle and barked a dark sound from the back of his throat that was closely reminiscent of a laugh, “What parent pits her children against each other, hm? You have done nothing but confirm time and time again the real culprit why I’ve consistently felt even crazier than I thought I already was. I have never once apologized for who I am or how I am, but since you are so determined to cast me as a monster, here I stand.”

“A monster.” Amelia mocked the use of the term. “This earth is crawling with competition, my dear, anyone believing playing fair achieves their dreams are inadequate buffoons.” She slid her foot backwards in the door’s direction and, in spite of how miniscule the movement was created, Archie’s teachings displayed the tools to spot when a target came close seizing an escape opportunity. Her confidence never diminished, “Blood alone will not establish my safety, but one fact certainly does.” 

Archie breathed a chuckle devoid of all humor and care in the world, “Then give me a single good solid reason why I shouldn’t extinguish the one person who has slashed at every part of who I’ve become and carelessly laugh while I bled.” The woman was a walking terror at times and while he couldn’t recall her revealing any gesture of motherly kindness, she never deserved the privilege of children. If kids would ever enter his story in the near future, as any god lurking out there is his witness, they will never endure what he has suffered with either a hellbent competitive parent nor an absentee father. “A bullet solves everything. A bullet saves my life, my freedom. You think I’m the selfish one, Mother, it is no wonder where I learned it from. Finally, you have taught me something useful. So, I ask again,” He hissed, “Give me a fucking good reason.”

The tip of Amelia’s mouth quirked, “You are weak, Archie. Weak like your father.” Her piercing stare hovered from the gun her son was holding and landed on Archie’s expression, adrenaline kicking in almost instantly. She was frightened, oh yes, her facial features revealed nothing damning that could be used as an advantageous upper hand, but facing death was troublesome, “Why do you believe he slept with every living creature in this city, pet, has that crossed your mind? I haven’t the faintest clue what deep trench of an underworld you have dug yourself in, Archibald, but you’ve sealed a fate that’s promised your worst fear. Loneliness.” Amelia paused for melodramatic effect, “Despite what you feel about me or your brother, butchering your own family means you’ll truly be alone in this cesspool. No one will love you. So, go right ahead,” She stepped forward cautiously, “Do it. Solve your problems at my expense.”

Archibald could feel his confidence slipping quickly, willing his physical state not to follow suit, forcing the memories of the wisdom imparted on him by others who introduced the young male to a dream career engaging in his darkest fancies. Kill her, kill her, kill her, a voice from somewhere screamed blaringly. Squeeze the trigger and the pain disappears, as if it were that simple. Killing his mother had not crossed his mind before, though, its presence and the formulating euphoric rush couldn’t surprise or scare him. He realized a split second too late the hands wrapped around the gun were wobbling uncontrollably as his head rationalized between two battling arguments. Pull the trigger, don’t pull the trigger, the racing thoughts produced a maddening result. No one loved him, did he want love? How can he when he could not feel it? Couldn’t feel anything? One night stands came and went, meaningless dalliances, but nothing lasted. Not that the youngest Devereaux allowed the progression.

In the end...Archie shakily lowered the firearm.

“See?” Amelia cracked the silence emanating in the middle of mother and child. Placing one foot in front of the other, the desk was the only object within that office standing between them. “Your pride and vanity will be your greatest weakness, Archibald. While the one faithful enough to count on the most is yourself, paranoia is a downfall capable of destroying all chances to pass on our family name.” Archie turned away from her, watching his mother pick him apart from the corner of his eye, “Choosing what you think is right will be a path you travel alone. You and I both know how this story ends, boy,” The woman carelessly waved her hand to the side and spun on her heel as she sauntered towards the door, “You dead and no one here to pick up the pieces. Nor I or your brother will.”

“You’re wrong.” Archie’s voice sliced the everlasting din, his gaze dropping to the gun in his hands. Amelia grinded to an abrupt halt as the male continued, “You may have needed me, needed Grayson, to resume our lineage, but I have never needed you.” The words were venom on his tongue. He attempted playing the role of dutiful son, he spat his complaints, threw about sarcastic remarks without a care in the world, but Archibald faced a resolution and he would not stray the road ahead. He cannot turn back now, not when he has come this far for any other alternative. “I’m done.” Archie traced a circled path around the desk and gravitated towards the door.

“Archibald,” His mother’s voice caused the young male to pause in his tracks as soon as he passed her, “When this power trip of yours fails, you will come crawling home begging for my forgiveness.” The statement caused a harsh laugh to flee from the teenager’s lips the minute it reached his ears. “No, Mother,” He partially turned, “you will be begging for mine watching the disappointment you raised make a name others only dare whisper. And for once, I’ll take it one way or another.” Archie didn’t bother wasting the energy drinking in his mother’s likely appalled expression as he reached the doorway. Archie was nothing if not a dramatic little bastard, that isn’t falsified knowledge, but to stand on the precipice holding the match as every bridge he possessed torched before his eyes, well...so shall it be his reality. “Send Grayson my regards.” Directing one last comment for the only living parent he had, Archibald disappeared from the room.

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

Hi. I need ur help. Is Dean mad at Cas, at God for making Cas "responsible for a failed mission that ended with a sad brother/kind of kid to Dean, bc he questions reality and his love for Cas ... or rather both? I'm a little bit confused after having read so much meta all at once.

Hi! I think you are confused because... it’s everything at once! I think Dean is feeling many things right now, and not all of those things have a good outlet or way to be dealt with, so they are directed somewhere else and become messy.

Dean is, at any given moment of his life since he was a child, angry at himself. That’s the inevitable result of a father that made him feel inadequate, by dropping responsibilities on his little shoulders that were too big for him and inevitably he couldn’t live up to. He has made important steps to deal with those issues--that’s the point of the scene with him saying that it wasn’t fair that he had to be mother and father to Sam--but a lifetime of being made feel inadequate don’t disappear with a snap of your fingers. Especially because it wasn’t just his father dropping huge responsibility after huge responsibility on him (remember when he literally dropped the responsibility of possibly having to kill Sam, the kid he raised as his own child, and then died?) but it was a much bigger game. God dropped the responsibility of the entire world on him over and over. Apocalypse after apocalypse, Lucifer, Eve, Leviathan, Michael, soulless Jack, but also the regular monsters, a never-ending string of situations where the responsibility for the lives of many other people, strangers and loved ones both (in fact sometimes it’s a Sophie’s choice!).

It’s not surprising that he developed feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing so big you can see them from space. The poor guy feels that he’s not good enough for anything, especially not good enough to be loved, not good enough for someone to stay with him. He feels that everyone will inevitably abandon him because why would they stick around? He’s trash. Even worse, he’s poison, he ruins everything he touches, everyone he gets close to.

The intensity of these feelings vary depending on how hard the circumstances are on his mental state, sometimes it’s better sometimes it’s worse. I think some fans expect him to “get better” in a linear fashion, but mental health does not work as a straight line; there are ups and downs, and when sometimes renews your trauma, you just fall back in the mechanisms of your trauma. It’s unreasonable to say things like “he should have learnt by now”--that’s not how trauma works. You get better when you are not actively exposed to trauma. Renewed trauma means going back.

So we have identified the first thing Dean is angry at, himself. Of course, hating yourself is very vexing on your mental health, and it is in fact healthier to transfer the anger and disappointment from yourself to someone else, as it prevent you from being crushed under the weight of self-loathing and guilt.

Then there’s the figures in position of power that have dropped the various responsibilities on Dean’s shoulders. First, John and Mary. Mary is a particular case because of course Dean never actually blamed her for dying, and even when he learnt about her deal with Azazel he knew that she was just a pawn in a cosmic-level game, and of course it’s not like she decided to make the deal and die for fun. But when Mary returned and her behavior shattered Dean’s life-long image of her, feeding his feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing because it felt like he wasn’t even worth for his own mother to stay with him, that fused together with an irrational sense of abandonment that came with the loss and forever left a mark in his little four-year-old brain.

I think the scene where Dean confronted Mary at the end of the season was about this: a need to outsource the blame and self-hatred, and Mary was the figure that catalyzed so many emotions since his early childhood, love and loss and joy that was robbed away from him and such profound pain that came with her disappearance from his life, to the point that when she returned and shattered his image of her, he found himself with so many extreme emotions about her.

And now John. Alright, I’m digressing big time so I’ll keep John short, everyone and their grandmother have written essays on Dean’s relationship with John and it’s not particularly relevant here, save for the fact that John is dead and Dean has never really had the chance to confront him. Even when he temporarily came back thanks to the magic pearl, circumstances were... suspiciously too apt for Dean to approach the father figure in a positive way (I’m convinced that it was all a very precise machination by Chuck to make Dean well-disposed towards him, basically). Dean was in a high, and he was in a mental state where he did not need to make that emotional outsourcing on John. Mary and John met again, then trouble happened, that they had to say goodbye and it was highly emotional and obviously left no space for emotional outsourcing. Result, Dean has no way to really bounce all that negative stuff back on John. John was just a ghost from the past, really, and ghosts from the past don’t really serve any substantial purpose.

And now to the juicy part--Chuck. Dean started out his journey believing that God didn’t exist. His reasoning was a classic argument of atheism: a lot of terrible evil exists, and if God exists he either isn’t omnipotent (then what kind of God is he??) or doesn’t care, or he’s malevolent, and those options don’t go well with the idea of God Dean would have been exposed to as a person growing in a primarily Christian environment like the US.

Then he learns that God exists, but he doesn’t care. He’s left, and now everyone else--angels, humans, demons--is supposedly left dealing with a godless world. That doesn’t really come as a shock to Dean; for Cas it’s shocking, because he believed that God cared. For Dean, the jump is just from a non-existing God to an absent God, and that doesn’t change much for him. Furthermore, he’s not exactly foreign to the concept of shitty father figures who dump you on your own in a shitty world.

The shock comes now. For Cas, ironically, there’s no shock now, because he experienced that shock of being angry and disappointed towards God years ago. Now he makes the jump from a shitty disappointing God to... a shitty disappointing God, just in a different way.

Dean goes from a God that isn’t around, that leaves you alone dealing with the shittiness of the world... to a God that has been there all along, manipulating everything. Dean could deal with a God that is what Chuck pretended to be when he reappeared in season 11, when Chuck gave him the speech about leaving his creatures find their own way, parenting-versus-enabling; that was a painful perspective but it made sense, and Dean could accept it. But when Chuck revealed himself to be the mastermind behind everything, an actual capricious author who uses them as pawns for his entertainment... that’s a blow. A very, very big blow.

Chuck had played a very specific game on Dean. He presented himself as a father who did the right thing for his “baby”, albeit the difficult one. He explained that he realized that a hands-off parenting was healthier for his creatures, that being present in their lives wasn’t parenting but enabling... He sold Dean a picture where being an absent father does the child good. (And later had Dean briefly meet John again to feed him a romanticized impression of his figure and his relationship with his family... talk about yikes!)

Dean had fought tooth-and-nail to affirm his free will against the machinations of angels, he strongly believed in that against the idea of destiny. And Chuck presented himself as the good guy, who gave them their free will, while his bad, bad sister Amara wanted to take that away from them. And now the truth comes out. Chuck was never the hands-off parent that distanced himself for the good of his creatures. He was an author (authors lie...) who just played with them for his selfish reasons.

Dean’s own sense of what reality is has shattered. That is generally not good on a person’s mental health. So, yeah, Dean is not in a good mental place.

So Dean now is angry at God. Rightly so. But God, by definition, is not there to confront. (Dean thought he had confronted him once and God just fed him manipulative lies, so it’s not like he hopes to have a nice honest chat with him). Furthermore, Dean, Sam and Cas currently believe that Chuck has actually left the building this time. They think that Chuck’s “welcome to the end” meant that he just slapped an ending on this iteration of the story and fucked off to write another one, create another universe. They are convinced that they are actually living in a post-Chuck world, like the apocalyptic wasteland universe.

I also think that Dean hasn’t realized that Chuck’s ending isn’t really the ghostpocalypse, but also, and especially, ruining their relationships, and their mental health basically. The ghostpocalypse is just the smokescreen (c’mon, like the Winchesters would perish against a bunch of ghosts and demons from hell, been there done that) and the true ending he’s orchestrated out of pettiness and spite is breaking them, breaking their relationships. Sam loses Rowena; Jack’s death and all that jazz definitively drives Cas and Dean apart.

But let’s go back to Dean’s anger and shock and frustration. He could drive it all towards himself, and just get crushed under the weight of it all; he can’t drive it all at God, because he bailed; so he directs it towards the one person closest to him that he truly feels like an equal.

Dean has been directing anger towards Cas since Mary’s death, in my opinion, because Cas is the safest outlet for the horrifying vortex of guilt, self-loathing and abysmal self-worth that something as traumatic as losing Mary (again--remember what I said about renewed trauma not being something you learn to deal with but something that reopens wounds and possibly makes them worse?) and seeing Jack no longer himself, essentially losing him to an even more terrifying destiny than mere death, must have caused.

It’s like Dean trusts Cas so much that he subconsciously feels safe using him as an emotional outlet/scapegoat... and now that safety gets shattered again because Cas rightly puts some distance between them (as I believe it’s a healthy choice given the situation, although not dictated by the right motivations in Cas--I guess it’s something like using the wrong formula but getting the right result, because right now staying together is not healthy... like, the healthiest thing would be getting a fuckton of therapy, but that’s not in the cards I guess) but Dean’s traumatized psyche will register it as a confirmation of that lifetime-long conviction that he’s not worth to be loved, that he’s not worth for anyone to stay.

Cas’ biggest fear is that Dean won’t ask him to stay with him, Dean’s biggest fear is that Cas will leave him--ta-da, their worst fears just became true! Of course, Dean doesn’t insist Cas stays not because he doesn’t care but basically because he cares too much, and Cas leaves because he thinks Dean doesn’t care...

But let’s get back on track. Is Dean angry at Cas? Yes. Is Dean really angry at Cas? Eh. What is this anger really? It’s a defense mechanism. It’s pretty much the alternative to just shatter. It’s a survival mechanism, shattering would be really bad for his survival perspectives. So he uses a trusted, close figure as a scapegoat for what is a huge mess of emotions. (Not Sam, he goes into parental mode with Sam, it’s known, it’s safe, it works.)

Rowena’s death just adds more meat to the fire, because she meant something to Dean himself and also because Sam is truly heartbroken about it. I don’t think that Dean doesn’t understand the circumstances of Cas’ choices, but rationality here has very little grip. It’s been just a few days since Mary’s death, and not really much longer since Michael escaped and Jack sacrificed his soul, and let’s not forget that Dean has basically been in a state of severe ongoing trauma ever since Michael possessed him, tricked him into believing he was free (Chuck mirror alert!) and violated his mind repeatedly, completely manipulated his perceptions, and then pretty much destroyed his family.

Dean’s mind has been tortured by Michael and immediately next, with zero time to breathe, tortured again by Chuck’s manipulations and revelation that shattered Dean’s sense of reality--a sense of reality that had already been shaken because of Michael’s tricks, and now he just finds out that the reality he anchored himself to... is also a manipulation. There’s no reality he can anchor himself to, or at least that is how he feels right now. His psyche has suffered some heavy blows, and no speech from Cas about them being “real” can currently heal the damage. For Dean, this isn’t a matter of what Chuck has done or not; it’s just an aggravation of a state of attack his mind was already in.

This post has gotten a bit long XD I hope it could help you get a better idea of Dean’s mental state (granted that this is merely the way I see what the show is doing, no one is forced to agree with me!) and feel free to ask for any further clarification or argument!

[bolbianddolanhouse]

BNHA self insert AU [Book 3]

New? Read here! Then here!

Chapter 11: Don’t Rain on Me By Joji

Things weren’t as tense as I thought they were gonna be. I really did hurt my own feelings! As for the group punishment, Aunty Mimi didn’t fuck around and worked us until we cried. My body hurt so much that the showers I took stung.

-5 days before returning to the dorms-

I finished my shower and saw that it was just mom and I at home. She was in her office, laying on the day bed. I’ve always wondered why there was a day bed in here and why it was facing the window. But the scene was nostalgic to me, so I floated over to lay next to my mom. Just like I did when I was little. When I put my weight on the bed, she sensed me and put her arms around me.

“How was your training mijo?” she asked softly.

“It was rough, she had us pull a semi-truck up a hill without quirks” I groaned “luckily it was just the truck part and not with the cargo part.”

“She’s going soft on you guys” she chuckled, pulling me in closer “at least it’s not wilderness training.”

“Heh yea” I looked up to see her calm face, eyes closed but awake and gently running her hand through my curly hair. It made me wonder if I really do share an image with her, am I going to look like this when I get older? If I grew out my hair, will I look more like her? The only way to tell us part are the tattoos on her torso... hmmm, that makes me wonder about her what her high school file said about her. “Hey mom.”

“Yes mijo?”

“Can you tell me about your tattoos?” I asked as I poked her shoulder blades “The two skulls on your shoulder?”

“Oh these ones?” she asked as she pulled down her wide neck long sleeve from the top, exposing the two tattoos “I got them before I came to Japan.”

“Why? What do they mean?”

She pointed to the one on her left “I got this one before I left home, it represents my culture. So I never forget where I came from.” She pointed to the one on the right shoulder “This one I got in Austria, where I did my basic training before going to my final destination. It represents the death of my old life, to remind myself that things will never be the same and that I have to mourn and move on at some point. To move forward with my new life but never forget those memories.”

I traced the one on the left with my finger, it was a sugar skull “Was it hard leaving home and everyone behind?”

“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I did it because I loved my family and I didn’t want them to get hurt over my doing. My life was going well for me before, I even had a long term boyfriend” she chuckled and blushed “I planned to marry him when we turned 18 and live the rest of my short life with him, start a family after I finished college and see where things go from there. But I guess his dreams were shattered too.”

“Wow you had a plan and everything!” I paused to think of my next question “When why did you fall in love with dad? If you planned to marry the other guy?”

“To be honest, I thought I was never returning home. Life was overwhelming me here and I thought I was just going to be alone for the rest of my life” her face shifted into sadness “I cried everyday as I prayed for someone to make my days less lonely, someone who’d make me feel complete. It took a while to see that it was your dad but he did make me very happy, even if we were just friends.” Her eyes got dewy “Then I got the family I yearned for, and at that point, I didn’t mind if I never returned home. Because I made a home here with all of you! And that was enough for me.”

Her words moved me to tears “Even if we’re little shits?”

She laughed “YES! Attitude and all! I love all of you because you’re the little pieces of me that I love the most about myself. I could never hate my children, no matter how bad.”

“Then, what will happen if you get word you can return home?”

“Well, the plan was, that I go back and live with my parents. If my boyfriend was still alive, then I’d reunite with him too and pick up where I left off in my life plan.” She listed “But that was before I started the company, got married and had children! Now it’s more that I’d go for an extended vacation back home. Because the new ordeal is that I was going to retire at both my jobs, hand over the company to a replacement, go visit my childhood home and visit all of my family members to show that I’m alive.”

“Will you take us with you?” I asked, scared of what she might say.

“If you guys want too” she looked at me “I know your dad wants to, he said before we got married that he wanted to accompany me because he wanted to see all the places I talked about in my little childhood stories. But I don’t know if you or your siblings would, I guess it would depend if you’re in your careers or not by then.”

“What if you want to stay there?”

“We’ll see, I haven’t thought that far ahead” she put her chin on my head “one day at a time Iwata.”

“Hmmm, okay one more question” I declared as I felt that I was maybe annoying my mom “Why are we protected citizen status? So many people don’t know about your children and act all surprised that I exist.”

She shifted her arms and had more of my weight rested onto her “Remember the night of the incident? And how we hid in Mr Hitoshi’s house for a few days?” she started off “I was waiting until you were a bit older to tell you the full story, but here it goes. The home invaders hacked into the protected housing database to get my personal cell number, they called me as a distraction so they could break into the house. I knew right away that I had to protect you guys but I wasn’t at my best because I was still healing from giving birth. I alerted Jin and Mimi to take you and the others to safety because I was ready to lay my life on the line.”

“Why did you do it?” I choked up, now understanding what I saw that night.

“I said I was going to protect my family and that if it costed my life, then so be it. I kissed your father goodbye and he understood that I had to do what I needed to do. So while he gathered you guys in the nursery to await uncle Jin’s portal, I fought this intruder but he made the mistake to tell me his motive.” She choked up a bit, trying to keep her composure “He said that he wanted to take my children and I away for quirk experiments. That they were going through the quirk registry of the country of double quirked citizens, us first, then the Todoroki family. That didn’t sit with me, I fought even harder but I pushed myself too hard and ended up face down and backed into my doom. I closed my eyes coming into to terms that this was it but at least my family is safe. But then I heard your little voice shout for the intruder to get away from me, and I shot up to use the last of my energy to protect you. But it didn’t matter what I did, you defeated them with your awakened quirk, I just finished the job with a shot to the spine to cripple them.” She took a deep breath “I saw that you were going into catatonic state, so I picked you up and held you, staggering my way to the nursery with everyone else for the portal.”

“You’re alive because of me?” I realized.

“Yes mijo, and I’m so thankful that you did. I couldn’t imagine a life where my children lived without their mother and only with a father that knows nothing about raising four very rowdy kids.” Her body curled around me “I informed the commission of the breach and everything got tighter security. I took an extra step and put the protected status on all of my children. Everyone on the Japan data base with a double quirk was advised to do the same or choose one quirk to have on the registry. But you’re just like me in a way.”

“How?” 

“You rose to the occasion and fought to protect the ones you loved, even if the chances of losing were high. And at the end, you won but life will never be the same and you live with the trauma of that day everyday.” She answered “Now you’re stronger, smarter and still have your loved ones around you...history repeated itself.”

“Damn, it do be like that huh?” That part blew my mind.

“Yea, but now all I wanna do is continue this nap” she closed her eyes again “Stay awhile longer Iwata, if we pretend to be asleep when dad comes home, he has to cook dinner.”

“Okay” I chuckled and closed my eyes “I’ll stay.”

I was no longer conflicted about my thoughts on my mom. She’s incredible and loves her family so immensely! She isn’t an empress, she’s divinity, love reincarnate. My wish is to feel that much love someday, maybe I will when I have a family of my own.

-3 days before returning to the dorms-

“How are you holding up chief?” asked Hoshi as he came outside to where I was “Last day of punishment training eh?”

I was face down on my trampoline that I jumped onto because there was a layer of snow on it and my body felt like it was on fire “Yea, and I want to die.”

“Bet” He chuckled as they sat on the rim of the trampoline “I brought berry tart for some cafecito with the fam.”

“Ooh that sounds lit” I lifted my head up, savoring that cup of hot coffee with dessert “Are you staying over today then? Lili won’t be back until dinner time.”

“Oh I know, Lili doesn’t know I’m here” he gave me a look “I don’t plan on sticking around too long, I just came to drop off the invite to my dad’s wedding and some...other news.”

I squinted my eyes in suspicion “What other news Hoshi?”

“You’ll see over some cafecito” He kept tight lipped.

“Ugh fine!” I put my head back down. I hate it when I get those responses!

Mom finally came home and Hoshi set the table for a cafecito. He even made the coffee so we could all sit down at the same time.

“Okay now that I have everyone I wanted to talk to here” spoke up Hoshi as we were eating our slice of tart “You’re probably wondering why I gathered everyone here.”

“No” blurted Hanaka.

“Because you fucked up” blurted Tensei.

“You got a job?” blurted Mom.

“You’re getting top surgery?” I blurted.

“Oh! It’s because you’re graduating early in the spring?” Dad blurted with an arm chop.

“What? NO!” He said to disarm us “I don’t know what I was expecting from such an outspoken family! But I gathered everyone here because” he took a deep breath and just broke out in a deep blush and grin “Wow this is harder than I thought it was gonna be! Heh, I was hoping to ummm” He looked at our awaiting faces “Hoping if I’d get your blessing to marry Lili, because you’re all so good to me that I want to take the family name. Do you accept this trans-boy as your future-son/brother-in-law?”

The whole table was in silent shock...until Tensei spoke up.

“Imma say it” he forewarned “It’s about fuckin’ finally Hoshi, the family name is unexpected tho.”

“Oh Hoshi! Of course you have our blessing!” Mom said as she hopped up to give Hoshi a hug “But I have to agree with Tensei, it’s been long awaited, huh Tenya?”

Everyone looked over to dad, tears pouring down like waterfalls “Oh my baby is gonna get married! She’s growing up too fast” he blew his nose on his table napkin “I approve and just so happy for you two! It feels like last year she was still screaming to welcome me home from work, and last week like she just entered high school.”

“Oh babe, don’t cry” Mom comforted “you’re embarrassing the kids.”

“Seriously daddy, put the water works away!” huffed Hanaka “Every time we do anything new you start crying!”

“I can’t help it! I didn’t think I’d get to see the day my children get married!” Dad wipes his tears “Someday you’ll understand when you have kids of your own.”

And so we spent the rest of our time together prying details from Hoshi on when and where will be the proposal. He said he’ll wait until they both finish school because he recently got in touch with his mother’s estranged family and found out that there was some inheritance waiting for him and his brothers. So no matter if they get jobs out of college right away or not, they can live off the inheritance comfortably for a good 3 or so years. Good on them! Maybe thats what I’ll do with my money...what’s with this family and inheritance?

-Day of returning to the dorms-

I pack my bag and savor the last of moments of home comforts. I really didn’t want to go back to the dorms but I still need to take my hero final.

“OwO r u decent?” chirped Hanaka from the door “Hewwo? Mr. Obama? May I come in?”

I sigh tiredly “No, pewish.”

“Too bad we’re coming in anyways” Lili said before busting in like Big Bird in that one meme video.

“WHY CAN’T YOU TWO JUST OPEN THE DOOR LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE?!” yelled Tensei from his side of the room, arm chopping “THE DOOR WAS UNLOCKED!”

“Ugh shut up DAD!” said the girls in unison, mocking the arm chop.

“Why tho?” I asked, hand on my hip “I need to finish packing.”

“We just wanted to do one last thing before you go!” Hanaka said bouncing up and down.

“I’m not dying guys! We’ll see each other in like 2 weeks for the Welcome Estate Ball” I turned back to my packing “What’s so important that can’t wait until-”

“Iwa look out!” warned Tensei.

I looked back to see the girls mid pounce, giving me just enough time to zip toward the door “Thanks Tensei!”

“Don’t try to escape the dog pile Iwa!” taunted the girls, eyes locked back onto me “It is futile!”

“Save yourself!” Tensei stood in the way of the girls with arms out.

“No! Don’t sacrifice yourself foo!”

“I have already excepted my fate as bottom of the pile” said the little brother as the girls picked themselves up “GO!”

I nod and dash out of our room to escape the dreaded dog pile. Since we were kids, we did these really full contact contests to see who ends up on the bottom of the dog pile. It was fun at first but now we run in fear at the sight of a pounce! Anything goes in this game! We use quirks, fists, throw objects, use distractions...but the moment mom stops everything, it’s game over. I just gotta run outside and get mom to insure game over!

Lili does a front rocket flip to stop me from running to the front yard “You’re not going anywhere Iwee!”

“When the hell did you learn that move?!” I was semi-impressed but still in fear for my life “that was clean as fuck!”

“OOOOOOO! You cursed!” Hanaka called out from the stairs “I’m telling daddy!”

“You little snitch! You wouldn’t dare!” I gasped.

“Watch me! Here, catch Tensei real quick” she said before tossing her twin over the railing, then parkour’d down the stairs to the backyard.

I couldn’t let Tensei just fall like that, so I caught him with my telekinesis before he could hit the ground. But I made the mistake of turning my back on Lili.

“Got cha- oof!” Lili got sight teleported by Tensei.

“Go get mom!” said Tensei before slumping over “I’m done for, they gave me a mad ass wedgie.”

“I’ll avenge you brother!” I did my dramatics before running toward the front door again.

The front door opened “Sopresa puto! It’s me!” Hanaka said as she ran full speed “fell right into my trap!”

I didn’t have time to stop, both of us were going top speed! So we crashed into each other, followed by Tensei that got in the way to soften the fall, then Lili that was in the right place at the wrong time.

“I heard a thud and some Spanish cursing! What’s going on-” said dad as he opened the sliding door from the back yard, poor timing as he got bodied by the four body mass going a full speed. We all slammed onto the just defrosted grass that dad finished doing.

“Oh shit dad are you okay?!” asked Lili.

“This takes me back” groaned Dad with a smile “you kids would always dog pile onto me every time I was laying down in the living room when you were little kids.” he chuckled “No so little now! That knocked the wind out of me.”

“Tenya, is everything okay back there?” asked Mom as she came though the side gate “I heard some- phfffff!” she started laughing “Look at you guys! Piled onto dad like that!” She levitated us off one by one “One last house mischief huh?”

“Yea, we haven’t done all of the winter break antics” grunted Hanaka as she got peeled off me “And I really wanted to spend more time with everyone! Tensei doesn’t wanna always play with me, even if I ask nicely.”

“I’m busy with my band and debate competition cases! We can’t play arson all the time” Tensei defended himself “Are you forgetting that we start middle school in a few days?! It’s time we get a little more serious with our education.”

“Oh wow it’s like listening to a recording” giggled Mom, setting us down on our feet “Your dad would say that last line all the time when we were in high school! It sent me back to those days” she sighed lovingly and turned to face Dad “Remember those times when everyone teased you for calling me up to explain strategy homework?”

Dad turned red and fixed his glasses “It was a difficult subject! I was just doing everyone a favor by asking you to come over to tutor us.”

Lili caught on to his body language “Oh I get it~ You say it’s for ‘tutoring’ but you did it as an excuse to spend more time with Mom” she did her little smug face with arms crossed “You had a big dumb crush on her, didn’t you dad?”

“I- well- I didn’t know how else to spend the maximized amount of time with her” He turned even brighter red and cleared his throat “She was intelligent, charming and super talented. How could I not develop feelings? If only I wasn’t such a coward and confessed when I wanted too, things could’ve been so much different.”

“It’s true, but those what if’s don’t matter anymore” Mom smiled “because we’ve exceeded our wishes and daydreams.” She turned to us “Now, lets get back to what we were doing! Iwata has to leave soon and I don’t want to keep the staff waiting on him all day.”

I go back to finishing up my packing, now with all my siblings in the room on their crackhead shit. When I took my bags down to the driveway, they didn’t want me to leave. And of course Mom had to pry them off me so I can get in the car in peace. The drive with my dad was calm.

“Hey dad” I asked as we stopped at the first light “Did you really pick a fight with Mr Hitoshi over mom?”

“I did” Dad said with a hint of regret “I wasn’t proud of what I did, but I didn’t know how else to express my hurt feelings. Your mom hailed me as her chosen family and I wanted to always be by her side, through whatever life had in store.” We move again “Imagine my hurt when she hid her relationship and shared living situation from me, only finding out by chance. And it was a stupid thing to do, I pushed her away even though I very much still loved her. But we all made up before the wedding and I’m close friends with Mr Hitoshi and Nieto. We go on double dates and other couple things with them, it’s so much fun.”

I thought about my next question carefully “If mom did have a child when you reunited with her, what would you do?”

“Funny enough, I thought about it before I reunited with her” Dad smiled “I was willing to help her raise a child. I’d babysit, teach them things, tuck them into bed... everything a parent would do. I wanted to show your mom I’m capable of providing and nurture, I really wanted to be as much as a man as I could be for her.”

“Did you show her all that?”

Dad chuckled “I didn’t have to try very hard! She had forgiven me way before we reunited and revealed to me that she had always had feelings for me” We turn into the final stretch of street before the dorms “But it felt so lovely to finally say it and have them reciprocate the feeling. I knew from then on, I’d never let her go and be outward with my feelings. Everyday I wake up next to her and think about how much I don’t deserve such an incredible woman nor the family that we made” he looked at me “But I guess I’m worth it.”

“Even if we’re disobedient, rowdy, weird pieces of shit?!”

“Yes, because life would be boring with out all those traits to balance my traits out!” Dad turns into the dorm parking lot “Well Iwata, you really threw us in a loop this winter break. Do your best on your make ups.”

I look at the dorms and take a deep breath “I’ll do my best, thanks dad.”

I waved him off until he was out of sight, then I took my bags into my dorm. Nobody was back yet in my class, mainly because our winter training was canceled due to the villain attacks back in September. I put all my things away and see the empty bed in my dorm. It made me miss Beizu, we’ve never been separated like this before. It’s about 2:45pm and I couldn’t delay my test any longer, to the hero dorms I go!

“Iwata! So nice to see you back in one piece!” beamed Mineta sensei.

I cringed “Don’t tell me my mom told you what happened.”

“No your dad did” Sensei corrected me “I have to say, never did I think it would be you to push it too far. But your dad did the same thing when we were in high school” He hands me the written exam “Alright, take your time on this.”

The written exam wasn’t too bad and I got it done in under an hour. I was excused for the day because the physical part of the exam was going to take place in one of the practice gyms at school in 2 days. Before I could leave to my dorms, the usual clowns saw me.

“Yo Iida-kun!” greeted Gon “You’re back so soon?!”

“Yup, had to take my exams that I missed”

“I heard what happened to your relative” Kage said worried “Are you alright? Sorry about your loss.”

“We’re good, I just had to help with the arrangements” I said relieved that they didn’t know about the other shit “I learned a lot about family this break.”

We went in Gon’s room to chat “...so are you going to take the hero licensing this year?”

“I guess so? But it’s not like I’m going to see you guys there” I responded “Everyone has their license right?”

“No, three people didn’t pass” said Kage “So they’ll be joining you on that.”

“Does that mean you’ll be in the sports festival too?!” Gon jumped excitedly.

“I’m still not sure” I gestured to have him calm down “I don’t want to do an internship for hero work and I don’t want to be on the scope for these villains. And don’t act like that’s not the reason why y’all get attacked on the regular!”

“I guess you have some reasoning there” Gon pondered my words “But imagine you kicking ass out there?! You’d easily get in the top 3!”

“Yeah Iida-kun! You’re one of the strongest ones in the class!” Kage joined in on the hype “At least think about it.”

I looked at the two and slumped in my bean bag chair “Ugh fine I’ll think about it!” I groaned “Still gotta figure myself out though.”

“Like what?” asked the two in sync.

“I’m thinking about getting a support item for my legs” I pointed at my shins “Even after all this training, I still can’t get my legs to keep up with the kick of my arm engines!”

“That would be helpful” Kage looked over my arms “Still can’t believe you haven’t figured it out.”

-Fast forward, afternoon of the Welcome Estate Ball-

“...Your tuxedo Iwata-chan.” said a butler as he draped the formal wear on the bed “Anything else you might need before I go?”

“Thank you, that’ll be all!” I said carefully, not to sound too aggressive.

To tell the truth I’m freaking out about all this! It feels like I’m a prince or something and I’m about to get coronated. Thankfully Beizu agreed to come with me to the estate to take the edge off and be moral support.

“That bath is no joke! Like damn bitch you can live like this?!” Beizu said as he got out of the joint bathroom in a robe in my estate quarters “Ooh! The champagne and snacks are here!”

“Bei I’m freaking out!” I slam myself onto the bed “I’m no rich boy, I’m on this ironic lucky streak that’s becoming my literal nightmare!”

Beizu walks over to me with two glasses in his hand “Iwa, it’s not like you’re pretending that you own everything! Nobody hates you and you just gotta be yourself, as corny as that sounds, it’s true” he hovers the glass of champagne over my face “Lets get a little loose before we have to go socialize with your family.”

All my worries took backseat “Okay a few drinks, I don’t want to puke and embarrass my uncle.”

“To inheritance!” Beizu toasted as I sat up “May you live comfortably the rest of your life!”

I toasted and really thought about those words. Yeah I am going to live comfortably but I also want Beizu to be part of that lifestyle too. In between getting whisked into conversations and having to order servants, I try to get some quality time in with Beizu. Yeah we dorm together but school is kicking our butts and we hardly have time for the usual hanging out. Finally there was a moment where we slipped away into the Lineage Hall for some peace and quiet.

“Wow, look at all the portraits” gasped Beizu “Fucked up eyebrows do run in the family!”

“Right?! Glad my mom has stronger, pretty genes” I chuckled as I led Beizu by the hand “This way! I want to show you something.” All the way at the end was four plaques “Here’s were my portrait will someday hang, alongside my siblings!”

“That’s so cool! When are you going to get yours done?” asked Beizu, taking a closer look at my plaque.

“I want to get mine done when I get married, ya know, so I can have couples portrait” I get a little choked up on my words and blurted “Hey Bei, would you be down to get married at 25 with me, if we’re both still single by then?”

Beizu froze and slowly turned to me, face flushed beet red “Wha?! You want to marry me?!”

“Why not? I trust you and I don’t care what others will say about it” I bring our hands together “Maybe it’s all the alcohol in me, but I want you to take part in these riches with me. You said you’d marry me when I told you how much I inherited, you might’ve been joking around but I mean it! Won’t you be part of my family and riches?”

Beizu pursed his lips to give it a thought “I’ll do it BUT I’M GOING TO HOLD YOU ACCOUNTABLE IWATA EL ROCA IIDA!” he posed and pointed at my nose “If by the time of the stroke of midnight on your 25th birthday and theres no ring on my finger, I’m going to propose in the most extra way that you’ll have to say yes.”

“Deal, I trust you’ll keep me accountable” I pulled them in for a hug “I don’t ever want to go through life without you.”

He brought his hands around my waist “That’s my line, silly” Beizu laughed as he rest his head on my shoulder “I don’t want to go through life without you too.”

We walk down the hall after our little moment to see my little brother having what looks like a mental breakdown. And just outside the window of the hall, in plain view, my parents were really going at it with the making out. It was just so weird looking at them making out like that when Beizu and I spent most of our first year of high school peeking into young mom’s romps with other boys. As for little bro Tensei, I’m sure it’s fine and he’s not on the brink of anything! He’s just a boy after all. Shiet, I’d breakdown if Hanaka was my twin sister too. Beizu and I just minded our business and re-joined the others in the main hall to drink a little more. I hope for more moments like these, then maybe life wouldn’t suck so bad.

-Chapter 11, End-

<Previous - Next>

[sasorikigai]

My muse in a relationships || @ephemeralkryonics​ || accepting (Part 2)

👫Do they display affection in public? What about in private?

Publicly, Hanzo may come across as stern, reserved and repressed with his affection (even when he attempts to sneak in knowing gazes, brush of hands and any part of exposed flesh, etc.), as he’s running high on rampant, prompted introspection and overwhelming onslaught of responsibilities that come as freight train of thoughts. So it may prevent him from fully capable to display physical and mental affection, compared to the private setting. 

In private, he is definitely much more at ease, without tension and hardened countenance and aura, which makes it effortless to commit to both physical and mental affection. While he feels more than comfortable expressing his affection with vocalizations, such would not be a possibility when he is fulfilling his Grandmaster’s responsibilities and duties. 

💕Are they open to threesomes or a polyamorous relationship?

It’s a hard no; Hanzo is a strict believer of the ethical philosophy and that “what’s good is what feels good” approach of polyamory or non-monogamy relationship repulsive. This can be more gross, as in the orgiastic pleasures of indulgence, or more subtle, as in weighing long term vs. short term pleasures and pursuing sustainable pleasures, seeking more subtle pleasures such as art and community, and considering the greatest pleasure for the greatest number of beings. While he understands that that it’s not only about sex, and being about the intimacy surrounding sex, Hanzo doesn’t that the pursuit of pleasure is as important to human beings nowhere near as to live a meaningful life, and I think the monogamous family model has been preferred for many good reasons. 

He is a traditionalist by heart, so he prefers one woman or one man is an equal balance with himself, instead of having primary and secondary person whom he could divide his attention. He isn’t very open regarding polyamorous relationships either, so trying other arrangements is out of the option too. Hanzo thinks polyamory is very egocentric and exploitive of participants. There is a primary lover and then secondary lovers, so there is an inherent caste system in Polyamorous relationships. So he would much prefer to have and thinks that it’s better to just find one person to make love with, and stay open to a community of friends. 

Also, time demands and emotional complexities may hinder Hanzo from ever pursuing it for himself. While Harumi and Kuai Liang share self-responsibility and integrity when it comes to their emotional strength and jealousy and commitment wouldn’t be an issue for them, he doesn’t think it’s sustainable long term as it is selfish in nature, even if the premise is that he can love a lot more abundantly than he originally believed we could. Monogamy is not just a belief system – it’s called pair bonding. Nature wants him to team up with and fall in love with one partner. Monogamy doesn’t mean he has to mate with one person for life, but Harumi will always be the one whom he’d consider his soulmate even before Kuai; Kuai just happens to share many paramount traits which Harumi possessed. 

💔Do they have a certain type of person they will not enter into a relationship with?

Anyone who is shallow, one-dimensional, goes against the Bushido Code, which are code of eight virtues he will follow with all his heart. Those individuals don’t deserve Hanzo Hasashi’s hard-earned trust, loyalty, devotion and love. 

💝How long until they feel secure and comfortable in a relationship?

Because of his past as a misguided hellspawn spectre and being used as a pawn without self-governance, Hanzo’s trust towards others and the time it takes to be completely comfortable with his significant other may take a while. With Kuai Liang, the duration which it takes for Hanzo to become more comfortable may be significantly reduced, simply because they have a long history between them. Even as mortal rivals and being a prominent member of opposite factions that had been in such a bitter rivalry for centuries, only exacerbated by Quan Chi’s machinations, the gravitational force of attraction was always there. 

There was an intrinsic intrigue, ever since the OG time where even as Scorpion, he caught up on how significantly different Kuai Liang was compared to Bi-Han. Kuai Liang’s major story arc revolves with the fact that the death of older brother had big impact on Kuai Liang, who in Bi-Han’s honor took name of Sub-Zero as he sought revenge against Scorpion. It was one of his biggest motivation during all MK stories - at least until he made a peace with Hanzo Hasashi. Kuai Liang is idealistic and naive, and Hanzo finds his sympathy, kindness, empathy and mercifulness (despite being absolutely ruthless and ferocious when he’s engaged in kombat) and Hanzo finds that endearing. 

Elder Kuai Liang may seem very composed, but Hanzo now knows in the Lin Kuei’s youth, he was driven by emotions (anger, guilt) - just like he is, anger fueled by guilt - and forced to do many things against his will by various powers (Lin Kuei, Quan Chi’s magic, cursed blade) and still he stayed on the heroes’ side. Kuai Liang even made peace with murderer of his brother - himself - and blamed only Quan Chi for what happened to Bi-Han. Hanzo forever feels indebted and grateful for Kuai’s forgiveness.

🤐Would they ever confess their feelings first?

Hanzo most likely would to Kuai Liang, than having it the other way. While Hanzo isn’t much experienced when it comes to having romantic/sexual relationships, for his one and only partner for life had been Harumi and I headcanon that they were friends from childhood years, in which Hanzo soon became Harumi’s suitor and they became lovers from friends, which also lead to them becoming soulmates. Because Hanzo is more emotionally in touch with himself and have no qualms of expressing his thoughts and feelings, it would come much more natural to him than Kuai Liang, who is rather naive and hasn’t experienced all the life’s joys as his childhood and normalcy to experience various appropriate things in Lin Kuei. 

❌Would they ever cheat on their partner?

Cheating is wrong, because it breaches his hard-earned trust, devotion and love. The golden rule for arguing about morals is the golden rule itself: One should treat others the way one would like others to treat oneself. The special exclusive bond he shared with him/her would degrade to become never exclusive or special. It would feel like such a violation and make him doubt his own self-worth, that maybe he is not deemed worthy enough. A relationship is heavy, involves a lot of opening up and intimacy, and breaking that trust makes him feel vulnerable and betrayed. The searing mental image of his loved one being intimate with someone else is hard to erase completely from your head, and would haunt him for long. It’s a shattering blend of impotent anger, envy, loss of self-confidence, possible erosion of faith in love, disgust at having opened up to such a person, and mind-numbing  regret and sorrow. 

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦Do they want children?

Hanzo always thrived better with having his offsprings; regardless of biological (Satoshi) or surrogate (Takeda Takahashi), Hanzo’s paternal prowess has not only kept him in check from his severe depression and sole survivor’s guilt, but it boosted his hellfire and fighting capabilities, making him even capable of coming on top of Raiden and Sub-Zero (albeit he was injured before their battle). 

🐶Are they a cuddler?

As I have mentioned before, physical intimacy is one of the most crucial and profound part of romantic/sexual relationship. Cuddling often gets conflated with sex because it releases oxytocin, a hormone that promotes bonding, and like sex, cuddling can lower blood pressure, ease pain, and increase sexual and life satisfaction. While cuddling doesn’t always make sex as an end result, Hanzo regards cuddling itself as one of the most important communications in relationships, as those subtle, grounding touches anchor him to reality. It only fosters tight-knitted bonding opportunities and cuddling increases his sense of security with Kuai Liang, which in turn, increases his desire to be emotionally intimate and vulnerable with him. There’s no denying the positive effects cuddling has on his relationship.

🔮Do they believe in soul mates?

I think Hanzo both believes in destiny and growth beliefs; it’s the same with Harumi and Kuai, that he was destined to be with a specific person (in this case, people) and that he would have one person who is meant for me in different timelines (if Harumi hadn’t met her gruesome death, Hanzo would have dedicated his life for her). And this is especially important with Hanzo’s relationship with Kuai Liang, and that their relationship slowly progressed and they both grew to fit together - like yin and yang - as they both made conscious effort to become needed and fill in the gaps of their imperfections. While he believes that he and Kuai can be the most compatible person on the face of the earth, but he doesn’t believe there's an invisible force that draws complete strangers towards each other; they have to continue to make conscious effort to understand and perceive each other, even as they begin to know them in-depth. 

⚔️ Are they protective of their partner?

Extremely. Although Hanzo knows Kuai is a strong and ferocious warrior who can very easily protect himself from peril and throes of death, it’s the past trauma of losing his clan - not once, but twice under supernatural forces he couldn’t control nor predict - and most definitely his family. 

🚀 How far are they willing to go for the person they love?

Once Hanzo commits in romantic/sexual relationships, he will literally go to the ends of the earth and to Hell and back; it’s literally the entirety of his story arc regarding Harumi/Satoshi when you think about it. It it weren’t for Hanzo’s love, Hanzo Hasashi as a character we know as of now may have been nonexistent, and so does Scorpion. 

❤️ Do they fall in love easily?

While the severity of his trauma may have been slightly mitigated by the decades of his desiderium and deep longing, Hanzo still has dreams and nightmares about Harumi, whom he considered not only as a longtime friend, a lover, a beloved and devoted wife, but even more so, his soulmate. She was a quiet, but a strong presence who served as Hanzo’s emotional pillar and guidance. 

📺 Do they share information about their relationships freely with friends and family?

Initially, Hanzo would be very discreet and hesitant about their relationship; at least until it becomes truly serious and fully devoted. For Hanzo, strategic disclosure and manipulation of co-presence (especially in regards to their shared Grandmasters’ positions and being Earthrealm’s protectors) signals will become the most frequent ways in which information was managed. The most frequent reasons for revelation were felt obligation to reveal based on the relationship with the target, the desire for emotional expression and the desire for psychological support from the target. The most frequent reason to withhold information was the anticipation of a negative reaction from his surroundings, specifically to the Shirai Ryu and perhaps beyond.  

This sharing of personal details about his life - your feelings, thoughts, memories, and other such things - Hanzo’s self-disclosure is on the low side; while he is completely open about sharing them to the most trusted, loved individuals, he is much more reserved about such things. 

♦️Are they concerned with the social status of their partner?

Social status is most likely the least facet Hanzo is concerned about, but I think Hanzo certainly has a type for someone who is either 1) a commanding leader in any manifestations and forms - Grandmasters, Commanders, those who have been in the leading position where they are responsible for numbers of individuals under their wings, so to speak, and 2) possesses insistence, the iron-will stubbornness that is able to meet his own hot-tempered decisiveness. 

💭 Do they tend to sleep better when in bed with their partner?

One of Hanzo’s most absolute favorite things to do is to cuddle naked; while he is much more of a sensual being than sexual, Hanzo does enjoy both physical or emotional closeness. While the term intimate relationship usually implies the inclusion of sexual activity, the term is also used to indicate a relationship with more than just sexual activity. Intimate relationships maintain a key role in his overall human experience because they involve emotional connections with others. This may be romance, physical or sexual attraction, sexual activity, or emotional support, while also helps him to develop strong interpersonal connections. 

Hanzo desires physical intimacy of some sort at least occasionally, being that it is a natural part of human sexuality. Because this is most often sensual touching of any sort, it requires an entrance into another's personal space, while it may be an emotional or sexual act anywhere from a hug to a kiss or sexual intercourse. Emotional or sensual touching of this sort aids in the release of oxytocin, dopamine,and serotonin, which reduces stress. Also, without physical intimacy, there are increased feelings of loneliness or sadness and Hanzo is highly prone to suffering both without the intimate proximity with his significant other. 

Specifically with Kuai Liang, he finds the quality of his sleep significantly improved; he finds the cryomancer’s coolness extremely comfortable, relaxing and natural. Even as a pyromancer and someone who is more or less used to stifling heat of Japan, regardless of humidity, he finds majority of summer and fall a bit unbearable - since he is the type to sweat a lot in those hot seasons and it’s hard for him to cool down rapidly without feeling significant discomfort beyond where he feels unhygienic and disgusting. Having some kind of weight under him is also a comforting presence, and he dreams less nightmares and unpleasant dreams because of it. 

[talesfromalostboy]

The Forest of Mendax: The Village Witch and the Mischievous Sprite - second draft short story by Ryan Johnson

It all started with a tree in the midst of an unnamed forest. A small sapling which, in time, would grow to become the tallest of its kind. But, that is possibly because it is the only one of its kind. This tree harbored magic. Something that eventually would become a rumor amongst humans, but they never knew how right they were.

Speaking of the humans, they were the next ingredient. They made up myths and stories all about the forest that they lived within. Stories of creatures and spirits. Stories which eventually became me.

The tales of the Forest of Mendax were all true, and those that started them knew this. After all, that was when we lived in peace, and they would traverse through my forest carefully with respect to each spirit and animal they came across.

This was when I met her.

Long before I was named Dax, I met a marvelous woman named Selene. She was believed to be a witch, or at the very least, blessed by the beings of the forest. When in fact, Selene was the brightest young woman I had ever met. Thankfully, this was before the times that I had seen many other young women nearly as bright as her burned for such “crimes.” Instead, it was a time when she had earned herself praise and admiration for helping cure the sick and spinning tales with the vocabulary of someone twice her age.

We often had long intellectual conversations within the trees.

“Humans do not eat worms!”

“Aye, we do,” she plucked the squirming creature from under a log, still covered in dirt. “In fact, we only eat worms.”

“I have been here since humans have, and I know you do not eat worms! Not once have I seen a human eat them.”

“But you can’t come into the village, can you, my mischievous sprite?”

If I were in a physical form, I would have glared, but she never liked it when I didn’t show my true self. That is, unless I was helping her gather what she would need from the forest for a sick villager. Then, I would always take the form of a sprite—once she described what they looked like.  

“Even if I did come into your village, I don’t think your kind could find enough worms to survive.”

With that, she dropped the worm and wiped the dirt off onto her tunic. “Well, there’s something we can agree on. Now, are you going to help me find the wyech root or not?”

“Of course, of course,” I took form instantly and waved my shining blue hands. “If I were to not help, what kind of friend would I be?” Landing softly beside her, I started the walk deeper into the woods and towards my tree. It would have the answers. None of the other spirits would know what a wyech was, or they would be lying to save their own roots.

“Sprite, from what I have researched, the wyech should be a blueish tree with the brightest of green leaves,” Selene stated as she followed behind. She was always one step ahead.

I turned on my heel and faced her, feeling my cheeks grow warmer. “I knew that. I just assumed we would find higher ground to look for it. Besides, you have never seen the view from my tree at the top most branch.”

“Can you not ask the other sprites?”

“They would lie! Although they know the root may grow back, sometimes we do fear that humans will grow greedy and come back continuously for the resources. Therefore, we search from above.”

“Yes, but, Sprite, it is only me. Your most trusted human.”

She was right. Showing off my tree would have to wait for another day. Instead, I closed my eyes and willed the others to me. There was a gust of wind, and then there was the babble of several voices.

What is it?

Why have you summoned us?

Should you not be at your tree?

Meddling with the humans again?

Keeping my eyes closed, I asked them, “Which of you is the spirit in charge of the wyech tree?” There was no response, but I felt a quiver within the branches of a nearby tree. Found it.

The spirit emerged just as I tried to start in that direction with Selene in tow.

“Guardian, you must know, that tree is the only of its kind in the forest.”

“Have you not spread its seed?” There was a slight scowl on my new face, but I was quick to hide it when I saw the discomfort it brought my human friend. I didn’t want the humans to fear me. We had worked together so well for so long.

“It has not been growing,” they seemed exasperated, as if I was asking too much. “Please, I know you wish to help these humans, but the forest must come first.”

“Selene, what are you trying to cure?”

She thought for a moment. After all, she always said it was hard describing human illnesses to someone who could never be ill. “A strange and bumpy rash that has spread across a boy’s stomach.”

“Is it deadly?”

“We don’t believe so, but illnesses in children and elderly can lead to death more frequently.”

Now, I was in between a human and the spirit of a rare tree. If it would not cause death, I could not trade the life of one of our trees for it. However…

I winked to Wyech before turning back to Selene. “It has just occurred to me that I know where we can find another of these trees. After conversing with the spirit, I know where to find the root. Describe the tree to me again and how it will heal this little boy.”

As we started the walk in the opposite direction, I felt all of the tension in the forest evaporate. The spirits knew where my loyalties lay. Although it may be unfair to lie, it was for the good of the forest. Plus, I was still going to offer a solution.

Eventually, I waved a hand to cause an enchantment on a tree just out of human sight. The size and shape seemed perfect, and, thanks to my abilities as the spirit of this unnamed forest, I could control the tree’s abilities. Therefore, this was the perfect dupe for the wyech tree. When we approached it, I took a knee, buried my hand in the dirt, and I plucked out the root before handing it off.

“I’ve heard wyech root tastes wonderful with worm, Selene.”

“Oh, be quiet, you sprite!” Selene attempted to shove me, but I was quick to fly straight up and out of her reach.

“Is that all you will be needing?”

The young woman nodded as I floated back down to be at her side.

“Well, then, I must see you off to the edge of the forest. Until our next meeting?”

“Until our next meeting.”

With a melancholy smile, I took her hand and teleported us back to the entrance of the forest. She crossed the tree line, and I stood back to disappear into my forest once more.

Eventually, Selene would come to visit with a little boy of her own. A spitting image with the same dark features. He always enjoyed hide and seek while his mother gathered her supplies. Then came the little girl, who her mother thought would be the next gifted healer within the town, but instead, she took more to hunting.

Then, after growing grey, Selene stopped visiting me. I remember that day like a knife digging into a fresh wound.

“Sprite?” Her frail voice called as she walked with a cane into the forest.

I was quick to her side, materializing and offering a bright blue arm. “Hello, my dear Selene! What may I help you find today?” It was silent. I held my arm for a moment and then two but lowered the appendage when she kept her hands firmly on the cane. “Have I done something wrong?”

She refused to look at me, but when her deep brown eyes met mine, I saw the grieving already. “My dearest sprite, I am unable to journey further into the forest. My legs have become too weak, and I fear my eyesight is giving away.”

“Nonsense! I will help you!”

“You will not.”

The three words stung, and I took a step back. “I will not?”

“No, sprite, I want my journey to be finished. I will stay in my village from this day forward. There is a new ruler over the land who does not wish for me to continue my practice.”

“Is there? Let me see this ruler and I will turn him into a fool.” There was no smile on her wrinkled face. No hint of the joy behind her eyes. There seemed to be no changing her mind. This was…

“Goodbye, my gentle sprite,” she reached out and placed a hand on my cheek. If I had a heart, I believe this was the moment it shattered. The moment I lost my dearest friend.

“I don’t want you to go.” It was like a child, begging their parent not to leave. “Please, you can stay here. I can protect you.”

There were no more words as her hand dropped back to her side. A melancholy smile appeared on her face, but this time, I knew it was true misery. I couldn’t bring myself to force a grin. Instead, I had to dissolve. I had to be rid of my form, so that she wouldn’t see me crumble.

From the highest branch of the tallest tree, I watched as she disappeared back over the forest’s edge and into the village.

“Goodbye, Selene.”

Her children believed I was a story from their childhood or an imaginary friend. I was not even allowed the spitting image of her as they grew older and grew their families. I was offered no piece of my first human friend.

There are days I wish that I had stolen Selene away and had kept her with me within the forest.

Days I wish we could go back to being the village witch and the mischievous sprite.

[aestherians]

My response to this video is gonna be ridiculously long, so hit J if you want to skip it

“Fictinkin is Terrible” Bad grammar. Should either be ‘fictionkin are terrible’ or 'fictionkinity is terrible’. But I digress.

“I actually used to be fictionkin” It’s generally agreed that if you’re 'kin, that’s what you are. It’s an inherent trait, like a hair color, and you can’t just quit it (though you can realize you never were 'kin in the first place or you can stop associating with the community or you can refuse to use any of the labels). A better wording would probably be “I used to think I was fictionkin.” This is just nitpicking, honestly, as it doesn’t change the experiences you’ve had with the community.

“[The otherkin community consists] of people who believe they are the spirit of a species besides human, born into the wrong body.” Not exactly wrong, not exactly right. This describes a lot of otherkin but by far not all. I believe my soul is partially that of a bison but I don’t believe I should’ve been born in the body of a bison. I also feel like I’m a gnoll (you know,, those fuckers from D&D) on a psychological level, which I chalk up to a lot of weird things in my late childhood/early teens, such as roleplaying werewolves and imprinting on the art of DarkNatasha. It’s not play-pretend, it’s just a… character trait, I guess you could say. Like being Pagan or being really into knitting. A large portion of otherkin believe it’s a purely psychological phenomenon or that the cause is a mix of spiritual and psychological stuff. Likewise, a lot of otherkin don’t feel like they’re born into the wrong body. It’s very subjective how each individual describes their otherkinity.

“It’s origins are mainly from tumblr” Not really… The current otherkin community has its roots in the elven communities from the 1970s (namely the Elf Queen’s Daughters and the Silver Elves). The EQD have letters dating back to 1973 detailing their nonhuman identities and can trace the origins of their organization back to the late 1960s. The word 'otherkin’ was coined by Torin in a mailing list (hosted by R’ykandar Korra’ti) in 1990. This is around the same time that the therian community appeared (seperately from the elvenkind/otherkin community) in the newsgroup Alt.Horror.WereWolves. For more information, check out “Otherkin Timeline - The Recent History of Elfin, Fae,and Animal People” By O. Scribner.

“Nowadays, the otherkin community has actually been pretty dead recently…” Again, not really… If anything, there are more otherkin actively discussing their identities and connecting with each other now than ever before. The community is just isolated to private chats and servers (mainly on Discord) and heavily moderated forums like WereList, Therian-Guide, and Fictionkin Dot Com.

“…and in its place has arisen something far worse: This is the fictionkin community.” Though some of the elves of the EQD and the Silver Elves would technically be classified as fictionkin today (as they identified as canon characters from Tolkien’s Middle-earth), the fictionkin community as we know it dates back to circa 2001. In other words, it’s not a replacement for the otherkin community specific to tumblr, and it is probably older than a lot of the people watching this video. For more info, check out “A History Of The Fictionkin Community” by House of Chimeras.

“Otherkin actually has [sic] some basis in spiritual beliefs like reincarnation and spirit animals” Otherkinity has nothing to do with having a spirit animal and an otherkin have nothing to do with spirit animals. If someone isn’t first nations they shouldn’t even touch that term. I understand where the confusion comes from, though. When you’re just getting to know your animal guide/spirit guide you think about them a lot, and when you think about something a lot you’re bound to experience things that are reminiscent of otherkin experiences, such as dreaming that you are the animal or taking on the mindset of the animal. The author Lupa used to think she was a wolf therian but a couple of years down the line recognized that she’d mistaken her spirit guide for a theriotype. You can read about it in her article “Letting Go of Therianthropy For Good.”

“Fictionkin, however, these people lack any actual reasoning behind why they think they’re a fictional character. They’ll often run around in circles, trying to come up with explanations for it, usually quoting the multiverse theory.” Archetypal connection, dissociation, energetic resonance, imprinting, mental fabrication, psychic connection, differently shaped soul parts, soul shattering, spiritual links, trauma, a coping mechanism turned into an involuntary identity, astral shapeshifting, neurodivergence, developmental issues in one of the critical periods of identity formation… Need I go on? There are plenty of things (both spiritual and psychological) that could explain why some people are fictionkin.

“At least the otherkin community tries to explain their logic with actual spiritual and religious beliefs.” What’s the difference between an “actual spiritual belief” and what fictionkin believe in? Hopefully you’re aware that all religious and spiritual beliefs were created by people. Superheroes are the modern day Greek gods, and fictionkinity isn’t really different from Alexander the Great believing he was a demigod. At least I don’t see the difference, except in the number of people that believe it (and I think we can all agree that the number of subscribers a belief has does not determine how real it is, otherwise we’d all have to accept the Abrahamic god as real and atheists would be seen as delusional).

“But the fictionkin community preaches a theory with no actual evidence behind it like it’s fucking fact.” And what exactly is the evidence behind non-fictionkin beliefs about the cause of 'kinity…?

“How do you actually determine that you are these characters?” I’m not fictionkin, so I can’t speak for them, but I identify as a bison and a gnoll because I experience a lot of things that fit into either narrative more comfortably than it does a human narrative. Body dysphoria, homesickness after places I’ve never been, impulses/urges, supernumerary phantom limbs, periods where my mindset feels less human and more animal, and flashing images of being my kintypes. Am I literally a nonhuman creature in a human body? Who the fuck knows. But it feels good to me to put those experiences in that narrative.

“It’s really concerning that these people would base their entire identities around something so vague.” Assuming someone’s kintype is their entire identity because you only know them from their 'kin blog is like assuming Drea Renee’s entire identity is 'knitter’ because she runs a big knitting blog. It doesn’t really fly. I’m otherkin, sure, but I’m also an animal science student, an aspiring amateur entomologist, a collector of old books, a fantasy fan, a cat lover, a scourer of thrift stores, and I could go on. Old books isn’t my entire identity. Insects aren’t my entire identity. Otherkinity isn’t my entire identity. I understand the assumption as you only see most 'kin on their blog devoted to otherkinity, but trust me, they will 9 times out of 10 have a private main blog where they post about all the other stuff that interests them.

“Let’s assume these memories are real. Don’t you think it would be possible to have memories of a character you aren’t even familiar with?” Plenty of people do, actually! They usually only find out when their source comes out, though. A somewhat famous example is Ebony who identified as a thestral a few years before Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was released. You can read about this in their essay “Fangs, Flesh and Flight” on House of Chimeras’ Livejournal. I myself have had several 'memories’ (I’m reluctant to call them that for personal reasons) of being an elderly woman in various situations. I’ve looked everywhere for something that matches those images, but I’ve pretty much resigned myself to it just being a 'normal’ past life.

“They pretty much make their self-indulgent canon” As a canon-divergent gnoll, I am Offended™. Nah, but honestly, canons and people’s relationships with them are weird (and I have a gut feeling that non-'kin would call our experiences fake whether we adhere to canon or not). Some people swear up and down that Shiro from Voltron still loves his ex, others claim the opposite. And neither of them are wrong since it’s all about the media consumer’s own perception of what they’re shown. Then there are people like me who just go off whatever gut feeling they have, so whatever kind of gnoll I identify as doesn’t show up in any tabletop canon that I’m aware of. I technically identified as a gnoll before I knew what a gnoll was and on my blog there are plenty of posts where I list my traits, asking if someone knows a creature matching them. In the end a kind Anon pointed me towards gnolls.

“According to these people you don’t even have to have memories to be kin. Actually, there’s no real determining factors for how to be kin and nothing is stopping you from being kin with every single fictional character that you like. As a matter of fact, people who are only kin with one or two characters are the minority.” You don’t need memories to be 'kin as there are many other factors that could cause you to feel nonhuman/like a fictional character. I’ve already gone over this in “How do you actually determine that you are these characters?”. What stops you from having a billion characters as your kintype at once is the simple fact that only a smaller number can really be significant enough parts of your personality to constitute kintypes. There’s no set upper limit, but somwhere around 5 is usually where you should start to get really skeptical. The people who have a list of 100 supposed kintypes have just really misunderstood what other-/fictionkinity is and need to be gently corrected. I hate to sound like I’m yelling ‘no true scotsman’ but among genuine otherkin, you’ll rarely find someone with more than 10 kintypes. Past lives, sure, but not kintypes.

“…delusions of being fictional characters.” 'Kinity is not a delusion. Please don’t downplay mental health issues by comparing them to a subculture. The DSM-IV classifies a delusion as “A false belief based on incorrect inference about external reality that is firmly sustained despite what almost everyone else believes and despite what constitutes incontrovertible and obvious proof or evidence to the contrary. The belief is not one ordinarily accepted by other members of the person’s culture or subculture (e.g., it is not an article of religious faith). When a false belief involves a value judgment, it is regarded as a delusion only when the judgment is so extreme as to defy credibility.” Otherkinity is an identity, not a belief, and it is in identity that makes no claims about the external world (with the exception of a select few elves and fae in the 80s/90s who claimed to be genetically otherkin). The beliefs surrounding otherkinity, however, can be delusional in rare cases like physical shifting. But in almost all cases the beliefs would fall into the culture/subculture category like religions do.

"And as they always say, anyone can become kin! You don’t even need to take it seriously.” The people who say that are going against the +40 years of established knowledge about the community and the otherkin experience. They’re wrong. You can not 'become 'kin’, only realize you were 'kin your whole life. You can, however, choose to become a copinglinker, which I believe a lot of the kids on tumblr actually are. If you chose your kintype, if you can drop a kintype all willy-nilly, or if you’re “kin to cope,” you’re a copinglinker, not otherkin. It’s a matter of misinformation and a lack of resources (and of kids refusing to listen when more knowledgeable people correct them).

“Eventually you’re gonna have to grow out of this.” Why? I’m happy the way I am (and functional, if that’s what you’re worried about). I’ve got friends, hobbies, and goals. I recently quit my job to focus on my studies, but up until then, I had no problems keeping it. I go to college. I go to parties. I’m going to Pride in a few hours. I’m not exactly secret about being otherkin, and all the people who’ve found out or who’ve been told that I am, have just shrugged and accepted it. If it doesn’t interfere with my day-to-day, there’s no reason to 'outgrow it’. For the record, I know plenty of people in their 30s and 40s (even a few upwards of 70) who lead completely normal lives and happen to be other-/fictionkin.

[prattmemory]

Mora-Amina

              “I ended my last book, Images Matters, with a childhood memory of my father's quiet hum — the hum of a man mourning the loss of his wife. On the night of my mother's funeral, surrounded by his entire family and all of his friends in our home, my father hummed my mother's favorite Roberta Flack song. Swaying back and forth while his eleven-and-thirteen-year old daughters sang over the record, he hummed instead of crying. A hum can signify a multitude of things. A hum can be mournful; it can be presence in absence or can take the form of a gritty moan in the foreground or a soothing massage in the background. It can celebrate, animate, or accompany. It can also irritate, haunt, grate, or distract.

              On that indelible night in the basement of our home, my father humming in the face of the unsayability of words. Even now, the memory of my father's quiet hum connects me to feelings of loss I cannot articulate in words, and it provokes in me a simultaneously overwhelming and unspeakable response. It is this exquisitely articulate modality of quiet— a sublimely expressive unsayability that exceeds both words, as well as what we associate with sound and utterance— that moves me towards a deeper understanding of the sonic frequencies of quotidian practices of black communities[1].”

 You Heard of Roberta?

My initial response to these thoughtful words by Tina Campt was of course to make a dance. But once I read and reread this passage— three, four, five times— I was drawn to the mention of one Mrs. Roberta Flack, and left querying, which song was being referenced, which album? Knowing this was not the focus of Campt’s writing, I couldn’t help but to be inspired to go down my own sonic frequency rabbit hole. If I was going to make an embodied response to Campt, I would have to listen to Flack's catalog once again. Upon the first melancholy truthfully articulated chords, I was reminded of how penetrating Roberta Flack sound is. In the midst of this re-membering I realized I was veering away from what I initially intended my project to be, I wanted to make a performance and written piece about the Black utterance: the hum, the moan and the groan.

I wanted to speak to these Black utterances call and explore a Black embodied response through dance, this is a project that I will return to at a later date. Allowing this shift in my creative agenda, I viewed this as a chance to engage with a Diasporic spidering of thought. According to Nadine George-Graves, this is when, “The multidirectional process by which people of African descent define their lives. The lifelong ontological gathering of information by going out into the world and coming back to the self (George-Graves).” With this in mind, I gave myself over to Flack’s voice— a poetry in motion, gentle, penetrative and firm. I ruminated how its sound has played a distinct role in the transmission of Black dance aesthetics. This is specifically true of Black male choreographers. Often Flacks music is used to display a Black femininity as seen through the eyes of Black men.

I was struck by Flack’s voice; subversive in it's quiet deliverance, even when Flack is at the height of her vocal range, the pinnacle of story in song, her voice displays such technique and control that she is never screaming or yelling. Her sound is a centered power, crystal clear, shattering any emotional wall that the listener has erected. You never, ‘just listen’ to Roberta Flack, you become affixed to her sonics and in turn her story, resulting in a space time shift. You are brought to the scene of the loves lost crime she is depicting and are both seeing for the first time and reliving for the umpteenth time her and your story, you are sonically conjoined. Her singing makes short shrift of the listeners ears, cutting straight to the heart of the truth of the matter of all human existences. When a Black female dancer is chosen to respond to Flack’s call, this is a rite of passage, you have been anointed and are moving from mere female dancer to WO-MAN dancer. This is of great importance because you are faced with the herculean task of merging performing an embodied response to Flacks vocals and at the same time authentically portraying the character's story and point of view. This is something that can only be expertly transmitted through a body that has had mature living experiences.

The choreographers that have used Flack evidence both the traditional dance movements of Black dance aesthetics— driving speed, and frenetic energy— and at the same time displays movements of softer hues— languid arms, leg adagios and full all-knowing womanly undulations, and TIME to do so. When Flack is used it is slower, deliberate, patient even. It works less in the instantly demonstrative, and more inside of a deep, particular gendered Black femininity to tell stories of the girls, women and the mothers.

Examples of this are Donald McKayle’s Songs of the Disinherited, choreographed in 1972, the female solo Angelitos Negros , Billy Wilson’s Rosa choreographed in 1975, the all-female work featuring one female soloist to I Told Jesus  Kevin Iega Jeff’s The Yellow Dress, the song Do What You Gotta Do, and Ronald K. Brown’s For Mother, choreographed in 2005, the song Go Up Moses, these are all examples of specific female dance stories being conveyed through Black male choreographers. What may sound patriarchal, is actually an embodied expression of “speaking nearby[2]”, as Trinh T. Minh Ha would say. Perhaps expressing and paying homage to the Black women these men grew up with, were nurtured by and loved. These choreographies are odes to Black female stories and lives.

I performed Songs of the Disinherited while with Dallas Black Dance Theater in 2002. I was an ambitious young dancer that was awed and ready to work hard for Mr. McKayle. I was selected to dance the opening trio in the four-section ballet. I hoped I would have a chance to dance Angelitos Negros, but that was not to be, as there were women who had far more seniority than I did waiting to take on the mammoth dance task. They had been biding their time for the current soloist to leave. Learning the dance in secret hoping for their moment to display their worthiness, dance consecration of their WOMAN-NESS. Looking back at that time, I wasn’t ready, I had lived a bruising 24 years, but I was lacking the dance wisdom to apply to Roberta Flack’s question in the song, “ Painter of saints in the bedroom, if you have a soul in your body why have you in painting your paintings forgotten black people? Whenever you paint churches, you paint beautiful angels, but you never remember to paint a black angel.”

My chance to have a dialogue with Flack came in 2005 when I was chosen to dance in a newly commissioned work by Ronald K. Brown while at Philadanco. For Mother was a ballet that was choreographed and built on me and around me. This was an ordination, a crossing over of sorts, I was allowed into a very small club of Black women performers, a club that instead of a special hand shake, has special diasporic dance movements that very few can embody. These experiences are long ago, but unforgotten. The memories have stayed with me and informed me as an artist. A depth of re-memoring easily ignited from Tina Campt’s mention of Roberta Flack and a mourning father, humming instead of crying….

 [1] Campt, Tina M. Listening to Images. Durham and London, Duke University Press, 2017.

https://vimeo.com/29883239

[purplebowties]

Chuck Bass Analysis

A few weeks ago, I got the chance to read an article about shame-based personalities that immediately made me think about Chuck and I decided to take the time to write an essay about it. I’ll be using lines from the article to write this dissertation, which means it’s only right to credit it. You can find it here. The blog has many fascinating psychology articles; if you’re interested in the subject you should definitely follow it.

As the article I’m referring to explains, blaming and shaming a person are two different things. While blaming someone implies recognizing a fault in the person’s behavior, shaming someone isn’t about guilt or responsibility; it doesn’t require the person to do something that the accuser interprets as a mistake. Instead, shaming means affirming there’s something wrong with the person accused; in other words, the fault doesn’t lie in the person’s actions, but rather in their personality.

Before I begin exposing my thoughts regarding how and why Chuck’s personality was built through a dysfunctional shaming process, it must be said that both the aspects I’ve mentioned – blame and shame – played a role in his life.

For most of his life, Chuck has lived with a shattering sense of guilt coming from the conviction he had killed his mother by coming to life. I tend to think Bart has never really put into words this accusation, but it is sure that, as a child and later on as a teenager, Chuck read this through the lines of his father’s detachment. Consciously and not, Chuck learnt to consider himself responsible for his mother’s death, because the explanation he gave himself helped him to give a meaning to the emotional and psychological abuse he was subjected to.  

That being said, the guilt he took is a “blameless” one; in fact, it might be more accurately described as an original sin, a visceral, ancestral fault that has nothing to do with responsibility (even if Elisabeth had actually died giving birth, the baby wouldn’t have been guilty of her destiny). 

This irrational, inconsistent and implicit accusation suggests that there’s something terribly and irremediably flawed in Chuck, it somehow hints to the fact that his role in the world is to destroy – and metaphorically, to kill (“He hated me. It makes sense if his beloved wife died giving birth to me. Sometimes I swear he thinks I killed her” Chuck, from 2X05)

It is likely that, in truth, Bart blamed Chuck for the simple fact that he was Elizabeth’s son – the woman who had cheated on him and eventually left him to raise a child he probably didn’t even want. In Bart’s mind, having her as a mother was enough to make him a worthless and inadequate person – and irreversibly. This “definitive verdict” is indeed expressed through the story he told Chuck: not only Elizabeth “died”, but she was also “killed” by her own son. It’s a vision that allowed Bart to hate them both and set Chuck for being an eternal disappointment to his eyes.

It is definitely a form of shaming.  The article mentions a few examples of shaming statements, which sound very similar to many things Bart told his son all the way through the series:

• “You were a mistake; I wish I’d never had you.” || “No matter how I’ve tried to turn you into a man, it still remains the one, big failure of my life” (6X09)

• “You’re useless; you’ll never amount to anything.” || “Nice gesture, but misguided as usual” (2X10), “I haven’t seen anything in the last year that suggests you have what it takes. If anything, you’ve been a disappointment” (3X12)

• “You’ve ruined my life; you ruin everything for everyone” || “Bart thought it would be better if the family bonded without me for a while” (1X14), “Letting people down is your forte” (2X10), “Every time I think we’re making progress, you show your true colors” (2X12).

 According to the article, adults shamed in childhood have some traits that I recognized in Chuck as well. I’ll mention each of them and try to see how they showed in his behavior. 

1. They are afraid to share their true thoughts and feelings with others.

This first trait is pretty obvious in Chuck’s characterization. However, truth to be told, his difficulty in sharing his thoughts and feelings is only the tip of the iceberg.

Chuck is indeed emotionally crippled. He doesn’t simply have issues when it comes to conveying his feelings; his problems start with his inability to recognize them and then accept them. Season 1 is all about it; Chuck can’t give a name to what he feels for Blair (“I feel sick, like there’s something in my stomach…fluttering”) and when she hurts him, he can’t metabolize the pain he feels and ends up hurting her as well in a way that is absolutely childish – an act of spite.

This is obviously the outcome of an education intended to make him think of feelings as weaknesses. Chuck grew up with the idea that detachment meant strength, while displaying emotions – or even having emotions – was a synonym of vulnerability. And vulnerability was the ultimate fault, the one thing Bart could have never accepted.  

Episode 3X12 (but, in general, season 3) is pretty enlightening in this sense, because it gives us an accurate idea of how Chuck has always interpreted his father’s behavior and words – and, as we’ll find out later on, his view of Bart was sadly truthful.

The Bart Chuck sees condemns his love for Blair (“You opened your heart to Blair and that made you weak”), for it makes him immature and unsuitable for being the businessman he is expected to become. The image of Bart tells Chuck he doesn’t have “what it takes”. This conviction Chuck can’t let go of is so weighty and so deeply rooted that it will be one of the reasons that will lead him to betray Blair in order to save The Empire – “I did what I had to to win. I couldn’t let my feelings cost me all that I’ve built” (3X17).

As I said, Chuck’s perception of his father was exact. In episode 5X24 it becomes clear that he judges his son’s love for Blair and in general his feelings as a demonstration of his irresponsibility other than what keeps him from being a “great man” and from “growing up”.

It’s only logical to assume that Bart’s reiterated insistence to urge Chuck to repress his emotions and, overall, his disdain for the mere existence of those feelings and the consequential shaming, led Chuck to try to suppress them as much as he could.

The constant repression is something I’ll talk about later in the essay while analyzing other traits. Though, it is important to underline the fact that Chuck tends to keep his emotions under control through a rigid process of suppression, until he can’t contain them anymore. This implies that when he finds himself unable to shut down his feelings, they tend to blow up in a devastating way – for himself and for those close to him.

It’s something that, with time, Chuck definitely learnt to handle better. It was indeed one of the crucial points of his growth; he still tends to diminish his feelings, but he manages to cope with them in a healthier way. By the end of the series, for example, he is able to accept Blair’s support and to contain the shame he feels towards his weaknesses; it doesn’t happen right away and it takes patience from her and also the special delicacy she reserves him, but eventually he lets her in fully (check this scene from episode 6X08).

However, Blair remains one of his few exceptions. He is only able to show his vulnerability to a very restricted group of people who he is able to trust. Outside his “circle of trust”, he is still an especially cold and detached person – and I assume a pretty ruthless business man too.

2. They are terrified of intimacy and put up walls in relationships. They also fear  commitment as they expect to be rejected. “You couldn’t handle feelings,” Blair tells Chuck in episode 3X12, giving us, as usual, the most precise insight on him and his difficulties dealing with emotions. Nevertheless, she comforts him, reminding him that he’s “not like that anymore” and that he’s “becoming a man in a way that his father never was”.

It is absolutely true. In spite of his fear of weaknesses, Chuck has feelings; he cares, loves and is exposed to deep emotions. He is, though, used to block them, out of shame and fear; fear of vulnerability, but also fear of the feelings themselves, of their meaning and their consequences.

The basic consequence of caring is the construction of a bond with another person, with all the risks that come with it – dependence, pain, abandon. Accepting to have feelings for someone means accepting the possibility of rejection and rejection is, to Chuck, absolutely terrifying. One of the most insightful quotes that explicates it is from episode 2X01. Trying to explain Blair why he didn’t spend the summer with her and abandoned her, he says: “I was scared you’d see…me.”

Here lies the core of Chuck’s personality: the conviction that no one could love him for who he is, for he is impossible to love and also impossible to “fix”. He is irremediably broken, a destined to disappoint.

The article I’m referring to also mentions that people with shame based personalities struggle with feeling of worthlessness and often feel ugly and flawed. In Chuck’s case, this is the consequence of a growth and an existence that has always been marked by rejection. “Unfortunately, all I know if what he didn’t want,” he says, talking about his father, “which is me”.

Chuck’s deep self-esteem issues have their origin in the way he’s been shamed and neglected all the way through his childhood. As a result, he is honestly convinced of his inadequateness and of its invariability. The lack of value he sees in himself is deeply characterizing; it guides, sometimes subtly and sometimes blatantly, most of his actions and decisions. For example, he was incapable of waiting for Blair on the top of the Empire State Building because he expected her not to come, since he didn’t think he deserved her arrival. I don’t want to discuss whether his thoughts were valid or not; it’s simply not the topic of this essay. What I’m trying to point at is that it was tragically easy for Chuck to believe that she didn’t love him anymore.

Inevitably, starting from these presuppositions, commitment and especially intimacy become incredibly scary to Chuck. It’s not the dedication and the faithfulness they require that scares him; Chuck is, indeed, a profoundly devoted and loyal person (he values family, he has never cheated, he gives importance to long lasting friendships). Instead, his fright has its origin in the changeable nature of relationships: they’re hazards, they bring with them the possibility of being abandoned.

Only that, to Chuck, abandon isn’t a mere possibility, it is almost a certainness. Trusting that people he loves won’t leave him is incredibly hard to him, since abandon has been a constant in his life. He expects to be abandoned – and, according to him, rightfully so. People who leave him are justified by his worthlessness and their decision to give up on him is only logical.

This partially explains why he is so forgiving; recognizing people’s faults and responsibilities is almost superfluous to him, since, in some ways, he fundamentally thinks he deserves to be hurt. In this sense, it is important to mention how Chuck never really stopped justifying Elizabeth’s behavior; by the end of season 6, in spite of all the pain she caused him, he still hadn’t completely given up on contacting her (5X19), he still had her picture in his room and the combination to his strongbox was still her birthday’s date.

In some ways, this is also connected to the lack of love and affection that sadly marked his growth; he craves to be loved so much and, at the same time, he expects so little from those who are supposed to love him that he’s willing to take whatever he can get from them and to excuse even the most horrible betrayals (see how he allowed Jack to come back into his life). Every bit of care and respect look almost miraculous to him.

As the article explains, another fundamental trait in shame-based personalities is a debilitating false guilt. As I mentioned at the beginning of the essay, guilt plays a central role in Chuck’s life. Though he isn’t shy and definitely doesn’t pay attention to people’s judgement, he does tend to feel responsible even when he’s not. Similarly to what happens with his tendency to forgive, Chuck also expects to be accused and accepts the way people blame him, even when he has no faults.

This ingrained sense of guilt, which clearly has its roots in the childhood and the teenage years spent living with the thought of having caused his mother’s death, leads to the conviction of being unable to make the woman he loves happy. Each time he lest Blair go, he does it because he is genuinely persuaded that he’ll end up ruining their relationship and making her miserable; he keeps giving up on her to give her the chance to be with a better man, a less troubled, lighter person.

3.  They may be narcissistic and act as if they have it all together; alternatively, they may be completely selfless, almost to the point of being a doormat.

Both aspects of this trait show through Chuck’s behavior, since, as it often happens, his actions and his perception of himself tend to be extremely polarized and sometimes even contradictory – he goes to extremes.

He builds and invincible persona, “Chuck Bass”, who is powerful, indifferent, perfectly controlled; Chuck Bass is the façade he presents to the world, it’s his vanity, his mania of grandeur, it’s the self-satisfaction he feels when he’s called infamous, it’s his egocentrism and his arrogance. It shows through his eclectic style, through the self-celebratory way he conducts his business (his hotel is “The Empire” and it’s permeated with his notorious reputation), through the way he indulges the sort of legend created around his name. He enjoys his fame, his influence and he’s power hungry. Though somewhat more superficial, none of these aspects are pretended; Chuck can actually be self-centered, self-important, he can be haughty, cold and unscrupulous.

Yet, at the same time, he is incredibly fragile and he is often incapable of recognizing his value. Sometimes, actually, his selflessness is so extreme that he becomes quite literally “self – less”, meaning that he reaches such a worrying level of self-loathe that he ends up neglecting himself; his needs, his ambitions, his desires, even his entire personality (the beginning of season four is the most blatant example of this dysfunctionality, but part of this behavior is also recognizable through season five). He is haunted by the thought people would be happier if he was out of their lives.

4. They have a pervasive sense of loneliness and always feel like outsiders (even when others genuinely like and love them). This trait is noticeable and inevitably linked with the ones previously mentioned. Reluctant to share his feelings and scared of building meaningful bonds with people, Chuck is profoundly reserved. Though he enjoys an active social life (parties, galas, ecc) and he is capable of being sociable (he is, among other things, also a hotel and clubs owner, so it is necessary), he still doesn’t let people get too close; he constantly maintains a distance between himself and the world and he often prefers spending time alone.

It must be underlined that Chuck is an especially selective person. Since trusting people comes so difficult to him, he tends to maintain a few but very solid relationships. As I’ve already mentioned, he defines a circle of trust – one that is terribly difficult to enter and, at the same time, almost impossible to exit.

Making a quick analysis of his relationships, it’s clear how discriminating and at the same time how devoted he is: Blair isn’t simply the only woman he’s ever loved, she’s also the only one he considered building a life with; Nate has been his best friend since they were five and Chuck has never showed the need to create the same kind of bond with anyone else; once he let Lily in, he never stepped back and was actively part of her family – he’s never stopped treating Serena and Eric as his siblings.

That being said, even with his most trusted people, Chuck is still hesitant when it comes to letting his guard down and allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of them. Even Blair, who is definitely the person he trusts the most, occasionally can’t reach him; she has to find a way to connect with him – sometimes she uses sex to get in touch with his blocked emotions.

As a result, Chuck has an inclination to isolate himself, since he considers his feelings incomprehensible and unacceptable; to his eyes, they’re too dark and too horrible. This idea leads him to the conviction that he shouldn’t share them and that he should deal with them alone. Aware of this belief, both Lily and Blair, actually, felt the need to remind him that they wouldn’t have left even in front of his worst moments (“The worst thing you’ve ever done, the darkest thought you’ve ever had, I will stand by you through anything” – Blair, from 2X13, “No matter how ugly and dark your feelings may be, you shouldn’t have to bear them alone. My love for you is unconditional” – Lily, from 5X10).

5. They are often defensive and find it hard to bear the slightest criticism. They feel as if they are being constantly watched and judged.

This trait mainly comes out through Chuck’s attitude towards business and work. He is extremely exigent with himself and incapable of considering failure as a sometimes inevitable part of life. He’s a perfectionist and has Stakhanovism problem. Being driven by an ambition that isn’t completely healthy, Chuck expects the best from himself and has a tendency to push himself too hard to reach his goals. The first few episodes of season 3 are a good example of this behavior. In episode 3X02 Chuck tells Serena: “My father turned his first profit by the time he was 22. I hope to do it by the time I’m 21.”

The fact that Bart is Chuck’s basis for comparison is a crucial element to analyze how this personality trait presents itself. His need to thrive and his greed for success partially have their origin in his fear to disappoint his father. Even after Bart’s “death”, Chuck kept trying to please him through his dedication to business; he was constantly trying to live up to the expectations Bart had.

Driven by his tendency to forgive and by his desperate need to justify his father’s faults, Chuck built, over the years, some sort of idealized image of Bart: the perfect business man, the person he was supposed to become but couldn’t – because of his weakness. And when, by the end of season four, this twisted view of Bart shattered, Chuck found himself having to survive a deep existential crisis. “Everything I believed about my father,” he says in episode 4X20, “everything I thought I wanted to be, what I needed to be for him, it was all based on lies.”

The article also describes people with a shame based personalities as adults who tend to feel judged and controlled. It is important to say that, being a libertine, Chuck generally ignores people’s judgement when it comes to his morality, to his way of living and to his values. This careless attitude, though, has a few essential exceptions.

The first exceptions are Blair and Lily. Chuck truly values their judgements and not only when they’re positive. Since he respects them and feels supported and understood by them, he’s willing to accept even their criticisms. Their opinions and advice have a positive effect on him and they generally manage to encourage him and make him feel better about himself – or, at least, to question his actions. The key of his trust and respect for them lies in the way he knows that behind their words there are acceptance and care. Their loyalty and their affection isn’t necessarily linked with his actions – they would always forgive him and love him for who he is rather than for what he does.

Bart, however, represents a negative exception. His judgement, whether actual or simply imagined by Chuck, influences Chuck’s behavior through fear of rejection

In some ways, for a long time, Chuck lived with the perpetual feeling of being tested by this unreachable man he had to satisfy (“It’s like he’s setting me up to fail from beyond the grave” Chuck, 2X15). In other words, Chuck turned his successes into a mean to finally conquer his father’s love and acceptance and his failures into confirmations that he didn’t deserve his father’s approval and affection. In both cases, affection – or lack of it – is linked to an action; Chuck’s personality, indeed, remains intolerable for Bart.  

6.  They tend to block their feeling through compulsive behaviors

I will start by stating, just to be clear, that Chuck isn’t an addict. As I said, everything in Chuck’s life is subjected to a rigid repression; and it definitely includes his use of drugs and his drinking. Under normal circumstances, even though he is a drinker and an occasional drug user, Chuck keeps his vices controlled.

That being said, it is true that, during moments of profound crisis, we saw him losing control and showing compulsive behaviors intended to keep him from feeling a pain he couldn’t handle. It especially happens when Chuck has to deal with loss – since he can’t elaborate it, he suppresses his emotions however he can (abusing alcohol and drugs, meaningless sex, ecc). At the beginning of season five, the repressed pain of losing Blair causes him to detach from his emotions in such a deep way that he becomes unable to feel anything – even physically. 

It also must be mentioned that, for a long time, Chuck has had almost no respect for his life. Though the only time he was actually suicidal was after Bart’s “death” (2X14), he still showed till season five a dangerous carelessness with his health and with the value of his existence. He was often reckless and irresponsible; to use his own words from 3X22, he “didn’t care if he lived or died”.

His attitude towards sex, though, is probably the clearest example of a compulsive behavior implemented to suffocate feelings.

There’s no shame in sex and it’s not my intention to judge anyone’s sex life as right or wrong. Chuck was a precocious boy; he had his first sexual experience at the age of eleven, he is a very sexual, passionate person and eroticism certainly has an important role in his life. He enjoys sex and he’s completely open-minded about any kind of practices in this area.

However, it’s undeniable that he also uses sex to kill the pain. Generally, to Chuck, sex and intimacy don’t coincide. He doesn’t establish a connection with his sexual partners; he never sees them again after (in 2X21, he mentions he only has sex with people once) and sometimes entertains himself with escorts – the less emotionally demanding way to have sex ends up being paying for it. While sex (even random one) is usually an engaging experience, to Chuck sometimes it is a mere mechanical act that has the only purpose to numb sufferance and anxiety.

Blair, of course, is an exception. She was the first person with whom he managed to build a true connection, to the point that sex became fundamental in their relationship. With her, he reaches a complete emotional involvement; he concedes himself to her fully, he’s generous, trusting and attentive. It is interesting to notice, as I’ve already mentioned, that when Chuck is emotionally blocked, Blair consciously uses sex to reach out to him, for she knows that a physical connection with her will also lead to an emotive one (for example, she seduces him to bring him to say “I love you” in 2X25 and in 3X14 she has sex with him before he manages to talk to her about his mother).

7. They find it hard to establish and enforce healthy boundaries with others.

Considering everything I’ve explained, it is understandable why building healthy relationships for Chuck is hard – and why he had to work so hard on himself in order to handle them better. I think it’s safe to admit, at least from my point of view, that his relationships will never be completely “healthy” (although this is a pretty relative concept), for the simple fact that he is, logically, a profoundly and somewhat irreparably damaged person.

That being said, over time and thanks to a long and hard journey, Chuck learnt to cope with his daemons and to make his relationships work in a less dysfunctional way; he learnt that he doesn’t own the ones who he loves, that trust is fundamental for a bond to be unbreakable, that relationships work through compensation and ability to compromise and, eventually, that allowing the people he chose to spend his life with to see his weakest, most vulnerable sides doesn’t mean failing; it means accepting their love and their support and allowing them to make him stronger.

Above all, trusting people represented the biggest problem to Chuck and his inability to do so was often the main reason behind the crisis of his relationships. Having been tested his whole life by his father (it is my opinion, for example that Bart left him the responsibility of Bass Industries when he faked his death with the intention to see if he was capable), Chuck used to assume that testing his loved ones’ loyalty was the only way he had to be sure of their affection. It’s a behavior that often puts him in a lose/lose situation. What happens in 3X17 is probably the most exhaustive example.

Betrayed by his mother, Chuck tests Blair’s love and devotion in a way that sets him up for losing her: if Blair accepts to have sex with Jack, she gives him a proof of her love, but she betrays his trust; if she doesn’t accept, then her love isn’t what he expected it to be. Either ways, he’ll be destroyed.

His difficulty to trust people is also what brings him to be so jealous and to expect from others the same exclusivity he gives to relationships. In his friendship with Nate, for example, he doesn’t tolerate other people’s intrusions; Nate’s need to have a wider circle of friendships almost feels like a betrayal to Chuck, since his fear of abandon leads him to think those who love him will find someone better than him and realize he’s worthless.

His insecurity tends to make him suspicious and his inability to communicate his feelings and his needs leads him to manipulate people around him to keep them from leaving him.

In conclusion, I think Chuck shows all the traits of a shame based personality. Personality is, according to my view, an only marginally changeable element; consequentially, it is my opinion that the dysfunctionalities coming from the structure of personality Chuck presents still belong to his life and inevitably play a role in it. However, a journey of growth and evolution taught him to live with it in a healthier way, one that allowed such a damaged and emotionally deficient person to build a happy life for himself and for his family.

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aaaa im getting stupidly inspired to work again on my old Dating Sim Ghost Tragedy Game since I had that dumb idea today about a new Dating Sim Ghost Tragedy Game I’ve had like five separate ideas for different tragic undead datey games :P Lets talk about this particular one!! I’m pretty tired so I cant really write it a big post like i did with today’s new idea, but I’ll try my best ^_^

The idea is that it’d be sort of a traditional medieval fantasy setting but its more like a slice of life tale of the regular citizens in these sorts of worlds, rather than a big destined hero thing. Sorta like the appeal of the Atelier series? I’m thinking the protagonist could maybe be a blacksmith or a gardener or some other down-to-earth job? I just feel like he’s a hardworking chill sort of dude, sometimes kinda comes off as emotionless to others, kinda depressed but devoting himself to his work helps him smile again. He’s really passionate about whatever he does! And i think deciding his job would be a big step towards developing this idea, because having it as a minigame would help add structure to the plot and some relief from the sadness. I dont wanna make it too similar to Atelier though... So yeah, the protagonist is this cute mid-twenties relateable fella who’s just trying to do his job. I think I wanna give his outfit dungarees or something? I feel like he’d always look a bit work-uniform-style even when he’s off duty, he’s kinda too lazy to change clothes. A perpetually bored and disinterested guy. Or, at least that’s the impression he gives off to people who don’t know him, he only brightens up around the few friends he has. AND HE PUTS 100% INTO THAT SMILE, GODDAMMIT

And then his childhood friend is someone who actually was sort of a ‘standard rpg hero’, but a really sad subversion of it. At the moment he’s currently the main love interest, and he’s still sorta the catalyst for the plot and the mysteries and all, even if you don’t pick him. or I dunno, maybe I’ll just make it only one love interest but many multiple endings, but I think this character would be happy if his love interest was happy with somebody else in the endings where they dont get together. He’d be crying but happy. Anyway, my mental image for him now is this really weary chronically shy cinnamon roll who’s like a big ol tall beanpole knight with long rapunzel hair that he hides behind. Maybe white hair cos that’d fit thematically with his plot, but is that too sephirothy? When they were children, knight-guy used to be this bright and uplifting figure who always protected protagonist and had such great dreams of being a hero who could save everyone! And he went off to join the army at a young age, and then he just... shattered. He came back disgraced as a deserter, the decade of loyal service ignored by all his former neighbours just because he’d quit in the end. He had a complete breakdown and just couldnt take the violence anymore, now he’s barely 23 years old and already retired. And completely alone. No family, just trying in vain to take care of his fragile self as he locks himself away in his house and everybody gossips about him. And the thematic thing is that his biggest fear is spiders. The moment he snapped was when he was left injured on the battlefield unable to move for hours, trapped under a pile of bodies of his fellow soldiers, trying to play dead to survive. He just remembers seeing a spider crawling across the face of the man next to him, the man in pieces... So everyone horrid in the village likes to mock him by scaring him with spiders, and I havent decided on his name yet but he probably has a spider-based nickname. He’s unlucky enough to even look spidery :P

Ooooooohhhhhh and for extra irony, the village is next to a magic forest populated by demon spiders. WHOOPS, FATE HATES YOU! They’re kinda like both the gods and demons of this village, they’re seen as morally bankrupt dangerous trickster spirits that’ll do whatever they want regardless of good and evil. Everybody talks about how horrible they are and warns that anyone who does [insert sin according to our religion] will be cursed by them, but they also make offerings to them and consider them entirely responsible for the success of the harvest, etc. Its like if you knew your gods were unpredictable dicks but you still tried to placate them with gifts! (like most old european pantheons I guess) And even though this setting is indeed a magical one, the existance of the spider spirits is kind of an unknown mystery similar to real life gods. People very rarely see them in times of need, and nobody can ever prove it really happened. The forest is indeed the ‘forest of spiders’ but the only proven fact is that it has a lot of (as far as we know) completely ordinary spiders in it. Nobody knows why so many spiders cluster in this one area, so making up a legend about gods seems like a possible thing that could happen. or maybe this one area really is the centre of the world where the One True Spiders weave the webs that tell the future, and these are their mortal followers praying in worship much like the humans do... Anyway, its just a cool aesthetic thing of a cobweb-encrusted forest where entire trees get coccooned annually as the seasons come and go~ And a cool civilization that has a lot of trade in silk and weaving! Kinda based on the old ps1 game Jade Cocoon, though that revolved around magical spirit silkworms instead.

At the time the story starts, best friend knight guy has been back home for a fair few years now. Him and protagonist met again, and protagonist is goddamn determined to take care of his ill friend and somehow manage to convince the town to take him back! Its basically two depressed people holding on to each other as their lifeline, and helping each other compensate for the things they’ve each been robbed of. Protagonist struggles with expressing emotion and being a complete pushover who can never tell anyone what he really wants, so its helping him a lot that for once he’s determined and won’t just mindlessly obey his parents. You cant tell me to cast aside my best friend! Plus best friend just generally thinks the goddamn world of him and helps him be happy! And best friend suffers from seeing himself as worthless and being anxious about disaster at every turn, feeling that nobody loves him and nobody SHOULD love him. And not being capable of taking care of his more mundane day-to-day needs because he doesnt believe he deserves to like.. eat, sleep, leave the house, etc. Poor guy... I’m so glad I invented a protagonist character that can be there for him! And seriously they both just renew each other’s self worth and I’m getting so emotional about this pairing before I’ve even developed it... GAHHHH

SO YEAH LETS GET DOWN TO THE ACTUAL PLOT It was kinda necessary to establish the history leading up to it, because that’s why it’s so tragic :(

Last year, the protagonist’s best friend vanished overnight and never came back. Everyone says he just ran away again like a coward, nobody even looked for him except you. They say he was last seen walking into the forest, and nobody will listen when you say that’s IMPOSSIBLE! His biggest fear was the spiders! The protagonist frantically tried to find him.. tried to find his body... tried to at least investigate this murder mystery and find some closure... tried to at least convince people that it WAS a murder mystery.... With the loss of the person he cared about most, the protagonist has slunk back into his own shell again, and starts to give up hope on life. Facing the same pariah treatment they gave his spider-fearing friend, he eventually learns to stop asking questions, to stop searching, to just do whatever his parents said. And his parents said he has to have an arranged marriage, to restore their reputation, after his STUPID STUNT of causing so much FUSS over the death of some stupid deserter... Each day blends into the next, as life becomes once again just going through the motions of being a ‘proper man’. Then... One day... He comes back. The spider-haired best friend comes walking though your door like nothing had happened! But.. he isn’t quite right. Your joy starts fading to a growing dread. He doesn’t remember what happened? He walks straight past the people heckling him? He seems more peaceful than he’s ever been, he’s fearless again and he keeps answering your questions with exactly what you’re desperate to hear. Sometimes you swear you see him talking to spiders whenever you turn your back... So you have to adjust to having him back, and try and figure out the mystery of his dissappearance while worrying whether you can trust him or not. You even entertain irrational thoughts that the legends are true, and maybe you’ve invited a forest spirit into your home because it mimicked the voice of the man you loved. And... what will you do about that love? For the first time ever he’s recipricating your feelings, he knows all those words that went unspoken, as if he could hear you every night as you wished you’d confessed while you had the chance. Is this really him holding you close, or is it a cruel trick to offer you everything you wanted, so the forest can claim you just like it claimed him?

So yeah, gameplay would be like exploring around each day searching for clues, doing a certain job-based minigame, and having chances to either go down the dating sim path or mistrust this man that may or may not be the one you knew. Even options perhaps to develop a romance with other characters instead? But will there be consequences for instilling jealousy in something otherworldly...? I think maybe if you just jump right into romancing possibly-friend-possibly-doppelganger, then you get a bit of a bad ending. Agreeing with him 100% and never solving the mystery is bad, regardless of whether he’s actually trustworthy or not. Either way it ends tragically, but there might be possibly a way to get a true romance ending with him if you actually do keep on top of resolving the main plot as well as just smooching. I... won’t say whether his romance is good or bad though :P And there’d be one not-romance route, where its kinda like you have to work hard to avoid romance! The protagonist’s arranged marriage is a big problem, he’d resigned himself to that fate but now he’s starting to hope he can confess to the one he really loves instead. But he’s gotta go against the whole damn world trying to force him into this ‘destiny’... Oh and I wanna make the most of the spider aesthetic! I was thinking that ‘fate threads’ could be a big gameplay element, with the possibility of getting these out-of-context flashforwards and clues that can help you avoid a bad ending. (Like in Until Dawn!) And romance meters would be a silk thread connecting the two of you, because pretty interface elements are awesome :)

POINTLESS RANDOM DEVELOPMENT TRIVIA This is actually a super old idea that’s remained undeveloped for many years! Back when i was a lil teen I originally imagined sort of a similar thing but with mermaids/water spirits instead of spider ones. And a lake instead of a forest, naturally. Also it kept flip-flopping on the genders of the characters. Ultimately i decided delicate spider aesthetic would fit better with a m/m couple and terrifying swamp creatures of fierceness would be better as sapphic. And the het idea died quickly cos it was based on dumb gender roles that the shy one has to be the girl, blablabla :P Oh and for some reason the whole spider idea came from reading one particular case in the manga adaptation of Ace Attourney. Weird, huh?

[lunamysteria-blog]

The Place of work Concerns of an Abuse Survivor

odškodnění ztráty výdělku Shortly immediately after a new personnel commenced at a local insurance plan business, the veteran workers users agreed that he was "really wonderful" and "would go out of his way for you." They realized nothing about what motivated these behaviors in his office nor the fact that he subconsciously viewed it as his home-of-origin. The floor flooring serves as the foundation upon which all other people in a making rest. So, as well, does a person's upbringing-except that it becomes the foundation on which his lifestyle rests. If it has entailed abuse, dysfunction, or even alcoholism, it is weak and can easily crumble, generally requiring a person to compensate for it with inflated and occasionally nearly scripted behavioral traits other folks are unsuccessful to recognize. He sees the world the way no some others do. This basis frequently demands a person to camouflage his deficiencies by portraying an image reverse to that which he feels or believes about himself. He may well, for instance, be perceived as being outwardly pleasant and quickly getting together with others, but inwardly he churns with worry and insecurity, engaging in silent conflicts with other people as he chews on the items they do that retrigger his possess untolerated ones. Insecurity, fear of blunders, an incapability to perform the functions for which he believes he is incapable, and inner staff conflicts may spark regular and spontaneous work resignations. Conversely, this continuous will need to mask these insecure features can rework a person into the super-employee, as he acts out his childhood will need to obey and comply with every rule and hence establish his capacity and self-really worth by volunteering for tasks other individuals prevent, overworking and -accomplishing, people- and boss-pleasing, doing work time beyond regulation with or without having extra payment, assuming improved responsibilities, and even getting function property, in the method turning into the quintessential "business guy" without having some others at any time understanding his motivations. Ironically, this functionality and loyalty may possibly lead to at any time-increased positions for which he is not emotionally equipped, triggering him to compensate for and deal with up the more and more terrified inner thoughts with even greater determination and work. In their intense, these endeavors can replace his nonexistent character till it becomes his persona, as he is reworked from a human staying to a human executing. Most of his misbeliefs about his inadequacies outcome from his frequently replayed important mum or dad voices, which echo the authentic, but rarely satisfied reception of his achievements through his upbringing. Like a pc, his mind can only return what has been downloaded into it. Prolonged striped of boundaries at household, he is very easily utilised and exploited by coworkers and supervisors alike. As a victim cultivated by his upbringing, he can be taken gain of and is aware no other indicates of survival. If his actions and responses could be voiced, they would likely say, "I'm much less than you, not deserving, and flawed. So do what ever you want and use me nonetheless you see fit. I will in no way protest or complain. This is what I am employed to." But, except if he has begun recovery or remedy, he is ironically unlikely to be in contact with this voice or even fully grasp why he submits himself to such using ailments. Apart from the actuality that he has been so cultivated, he subconsciously views these persons as current-time representatives of earlier-time mothers and fathers who have been by no means satisfied with what he did. The additional, in actuality, that he submits to such actions, the a lot less deserving he feels, only supporting his misbelief. Similar place of work incidents unknowingly regress him to his childhood when he was powerless and his mothers and fathers had been perceived as flawless and incapable of error, developing the essential misbelief that any mistreatment of him was because of to his possess shortcomings and not their own. To compensate for this dysfunctional and most likely abusive upbringing, he adopted just about scripted roles, which he could subconsciously keep on to act out in his work venue, as the only believed methods of survival. The first of these is "hero," whose origin and purpose are maybe the most tricky to decipher, due to the fact he turns into the "excellent human being," undertaking according to the guide-prescribed laws. Without a doubt, he could signify the typical by which other people can only aspire. He is independent, needs no just one, is often the one other individuals check with concerning treatments, overachieves, and is flawlessly reputable and dependable, as a result masking the inferior and insecure feelings that motivate him. Considering that the current to his feelings is small additional than a trickle, he turns on the juice to the productive side of him as if it were a gushing fire hose, unsuccessfully making an attempt to change a single with the other. Skating on thin ice, he attempts to do anything in a excellent way until eventually his pursuits turn into the equivalent of his self-worth. But any error may well shatter this fleeting sensation. This get the job done immersion, on top of that, could be the totality of his lifetime. While other individuals could execute within just firm specified parameters to generate their paychecks, for case in point, they most most likely also have people and other activities to whom and to which they return in the evening. The hero may well not. Riddled with childhood-originating resentment, the "scapegoat"-the second function-was produced by the particular person who was continually compelled to settle for the blame and stress his mother and father or even other siblings would not, as a result persuading him to just take responsibility for the problems or infractions of others now. So acclimated is he to carrying the weight of them, in simple fact, that he may possibly subconsciously develop the circumstantial catalysts which impose the burdens on him, enabling him to act out his a great number of comparable childhood episodes and then lament about their unfairness and injustice. While the scapegoat passively plots his childhood reenactments, the "lost kid"-the third purpose-silently slinks from them, as he had in the course of his developmental several years, now hardly present. Perceived as an unnamed, personality-devoid silhouette--whose variety, at instances, may possibly seem to be little much more than the shadow it reflects on the wall and just as dimensionless--his id may be reduced to little far more than, "What's his title?" Sadly, he is recognized by his deficiency or recognition. His nonexistent presence generally displays how he feels about himself inside of. "Chortle, clown, snicker" can be employed to explain the fourth function, the "comedian" or "clown," but, in the two situations, that laughter is most probable the veil that camouflages the person's inner unhappiness. Tapping into his spontaneous skill to locate humor in most predicaments and entertain his coworkers, the child-turned-adult comedian turns lemons into lemonade for other people, reworking personalized inner unhappiness into exterior joy for them, enabling him, in the procedure, to attain a perceived level of safety by weaving a net of acceptance all around him. These 4 roles, all adopted as defense mechanisms against childhood danger, evolve into a life span of survival qualities aimed at self-security, since the individual after yet again subconsciously sights the globe as an extension of the 1 set up in his residence-or-origin, forcing him to pave a path with the methods that proved risk-free for him. Therein lies the causes behind an abuse survivor's behavior in adulthood and the problems he delivers to the office-his virtually programmed, but unchallenged belief that the adult earth is a transplant of his childhood one particular, leaving him fearful and hypervigilant of guardian-resembling and -retriggering authority figures. Regardless of his ostensibly bonding attributes and pursuits, these kinds of as his feeling of humor, socializing at lunch, and holding the identical or very similar-level titles as his coworkers, he frequently feels as if he is not portion of them, as if he had been on the exterior searching in, since actual physical presence does not essentially ameliorate or substitute emotional absence and isolation. A person can, in fact, be in a space with a dozen or far more some others and nevertheless really feel on your own, given that his distrust of them renders it hard to link with them on a social and for this reason soul degree. In fact, sensing a person's distance and psychological disconnection, others may well exclude him from soon after-perform or weekend social engagements, as if he silently conveys his absence of wish to be a part of them, but this can ironically depart him harm and even further solidify his misbelief that he is not worthy of their friendship. Accumulated, but unresolved childhood infractions, abuses, and traumas can retrigger and rekindle at work venues, as people and incidents replay in the person's thoughts, progressively "eradicating" him from the existing and immersing him in his past, his mirror neuron-saved tapes making an attempt to persuade him that the setting and people in it are not safe and someway harmful to him. So highly effective can these damaging emotions and fears develop into, in truth, that they may possibly in the long run regulate him until he possibly releases them by means of spontaneous anger outbursts or resigns. This, in essence, is an expression of the classic grownup-little one dichotomy, as the previous needs to be element of the entire world, functioning as a mature man or woman, functioning, and earning money, even though the latter, mired in the internally fleeing internal baby, seeks safety without concern for the financial implies to help him. The two are motivated by the require to endure, but on diverse stages and from age divergent perspectives. Simply because of regularly replaying traumas in an abusive survivor's head, he can neither inquire for aid nor protect his actions, and is often subconsciously diminished to the powerless and confused kid that spawned his original debilitation. Practically nothing is far more terrorizing than a individual confrontation with another, given that it transports him back again to the a great number of-and, most probable, hazardous-types he presently endured. For the duration of that powerlessness, in addition, he was in no way perceived as having been on the correct or triumphing facet. Paradoxically, when these a particular person is appointed to positions of regulate and superiority as an adult, it offers a degree of protection for him, due to the fact it elevates him to the exceptional or winning purpose the moment represented by his abuser. Alternatively of getting belittled and overpowered as a baby, he now feels that he can exert these consequences on others, and as a result feels more powerful and safer. In reality, this form of person, to increased or lesser diploma, can be classified as the generally-labeled "management freak," mainly because he grew up in a chaotic natural environment the place lack of regulate led to his detriment and he now strives to regain it with such a purpose at his occupation. In essence, he employs the exact same misdirected system his abusive mothers and fathers did at his position of employment. Conversely, when he does not suppose this kind of a part, and is for that reason psychologically regressed to the inner child stance, he is diminished to using regardless of what will come his way, regardless of whether it be further functions, obligations, or duties that are not always paired with improved compensation, simply because he feels as well unworthy to refuse them. Ironically, they could signify an intangible "profit," which most probable only exists for him-namely, proportionately assuming additional of a workload transforms him into another person who is favored, who is seen as an ally, increasing his diploma of safety. This conclusion is much more sensible than it might first surface to be, due to the fact abused little ones think that they are observed more as enemies than "buddies" to their moms and dads-that is, these who in some way get in the way, are burdensome, and not essentially wished. Propelled by such unaccepting primary caregivers down a path toward perfection in his tasks-all in an try to compensate for his "imperfections" and elusively achieve that seldom provided enjoy--he may possibly translate this dynamic to the office, finishing jobs, capabilities, and reviews in a exact and thorough way, and then expecting, but failing to be aware, related functionality in his coworkers. Ultimately adopting the similar intolerance for their shortcomings as his dad and mom did for his, he only re-sparks the cycle in his own existence, if he has not currently done so with his own youngsters at residence. This scenario may evolve right up until it makes the workaholic, or the particular person who replaces his self-worthy of with accomplishment- and financial-worthy of. As an abyss devoid of optimistic emotions, he finds it tough to extract joy from friendships and relationships, and his immersion into operate allows him to stay away from inspecting his unexpressed hurts. His get the job done environment may well be more of an extension of his home setting than imagined, as the occupation hopper, constantly searching for new work venues for the ostensible explanation of landing "that best task," may well subconsciously be in research of "that excellent residence"-or the a single he by no means experienced, offered that he can have faith in the "relatives member" staff residing in it.

[bnvupdates]

Ai Weiwei: Setting the Mark for Trumpist America

“Turn nothing into something – make a drawing, make a mark. Connect with others through this space of imagination. Look at other people’s drawings and share them with the world. Be part of the growing community to celebrate how creative expression transcends external borders and internal constraints. We are in this world together.

Ideas, wind, and air no one can stop.” -Ai Weiwei

The power of words, language and art have been a venomous tool in protest for ages. The Chinese artist, architect and human rights activist, Ai Weiwei, has used art as a form of protest for decades in one of the most oppressive countries in the world. He made his voice heard through the use of film, sculptures and dynamic art as a medium to bring important political and social rights issues to the surface of the streets of China.

The power of expression was shared with Ai Weiwei since before he could walk. His father was Ai Qing, a poet and well known for his opposition against Mao Zedong. As a result of his father’s work, Ai Weiwei spent his childhood years in a work camp in Shehezi. It was after Mao Zedong’s trial and death that Ai Weiwei and his family were able to return to Beijing. He was 19 years old.

Ai Weiwei’s life has been rooted in activism as a result of his father’s advocacy. Ai Weiwei spent 12 years in the United States studying film, art and architecture before returning to China to care for his ailing father. It was upon his return that he began to make a bigger name for himself and his artwork. His focus was on human rights advocacy work where he partnered with others and cultivated creative teams to carry out larger projects. He was creating his own audibly silent but visually deafening protests against the Chinese government.

In May of 2008, a catastrophic earthquake shattered areas in the Sichuan province. The deaths of thousands of children was blamed on the poor construction of the schools in that area whose names were not released by the government. Through the rubble that covered the small bodies, Ai Weiwei launched a ‘citizens investigation’ and recruited volunteers that led to finding the names of 5,385 of the deceased. He has created numerous art pieces since that event to bring recognition to the deceased, as well to the poor building regulations and practices of China.

A year after the earthquake, Ai Weiwei was arrested for tax evasion and detained in solitary confinement for 81 days in an undisclosed location. While incarcerated his family did not know where he was, what he was being charge for or when he would return home. He showcases what those 81 days were like in his exhibition entitled S.A.C.R.E.D. An acronym for supper, accuser, cleansing, ritual, entropy and doubt. He feels that by staying silent about his detainment gave the Chinese government the power to do it again.

Ai Weiwei portrayed how his artistic and rebellious acts did not have to be large installations that required a team of people but took advantage of simplicity at times. For four years, his passport was in the possession of the Chinese government. During that time, Ai Weiwei continued to put on art show across the globe from the confines of his home with the help of others. His refusal to stop producing art, even while on house arrest, was an act of defiance in itself. His simple act of artistic expression took shape in the placement of a bouquet of flowers in his bicycle’s basket outside his home. 

As of late, Americans have seen many protests and movements breaking out across the country. This is resulting in denser law enforcement presence and heavy policing, giving the look and feel of communist China in the days of Mao Zedong. For those that are avoiding criminal charges for being active participants in public protests across the nation, many are turning to artistic expression behind the scenes. Since the election of Trump, artists all over the world have been creating pieces in a reaction to the Balkanized society that has taken hold. The culture world is coming together to expel a resounding “no” in response to the actions taken since Trump’s short term in office.

Many artists are taking their chance to show their distaste for our change over in presidential office with bold statements, such as Andrea Bowers. Bowers creates mixed media images from residual materials leftover after protests. She also takes note of effective and powerful messaging that she finds in places of action, such as the protests on the Standing Rock Reservation at the site of the proposed Dakota Access pipeline. Things like cardboard signs are reused and layered upon one another to create new works. Her project “Don’t Touch Me” is made from cardboard remains and LED lighting to illuminate her bold statement.

Rather than creating a piece in response to the recent election of Trump, one artist is refusing to create a piece that has been 20 years in the works. The husband and wife artistic duo, Christo and Jean-Claude, had researched and petitioned to construct a work of art over the Arkansas river in Colorado to highlight the aesthetics for the area. The process was lengthy and bureaucratic in nature, requiring numerous permits from State Parks and the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), as well as a 1,686 page Environmental Impact Statement.

Christo spoke for himself and his late wife, Jean-Claude when announcing they would be retiring the self-funded project, Over the River, as a result of the Trump administration taking office. Christo, 81 years old, is a Bulgarian immigrant and was raised in a communist country. He told the NY Times, “I use my own money and my own work and my own plans because I like to be totally free. And here now, the federal government is our landlord. They own the land. I can’t do a project that benefits this landlord.”

There have been previous movements in history when artists have held strikes in protest of political happenings, such as the Art Strike in the 1970’s during the Vietnam war. The standoff on the day of the Art Strike was replicated in an act of defiance, disobedience and refusal of compliance on inauguration day of president Trump with a movement called J20. The day was supposed to show that business will not continue as usual and that the participants will not comply with Trump’s aim to bring bigotry, misogyny and militarism into their lives and hearts. Some artists disagree with the actions of Christo and actions such as J20. Some feel that it is empowering the individuals that they feel oppress art and culture by halting expressing thought and their creative minds.

The artistic displays that have arisen in response to our current presidential administration are meant to inspire, awaken and galvanize the people of America. Artistic statements are enticing others to not only visually see but to deeply comprehend that there is power in numbers and fighting for your rights and beliefs does not have to come in the form of violence or petition signing. The use of paint, plaster and mixed media is just as effective as a rally, strike or protest.

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Author Bio: W.M. Chandler is a Colorado native and works best with her head in the clouds. She is an avid researcher and enjoys writing about unfamiliar subjects. She writes passionately about nature and the outdoors, human connections and relationships, art and politics.

Twitter Handle: @wmchandler1212

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