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telehxhtrash · 5 years ago

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“心中だな” - A subjective interpretation of chapter 286.

Hi!

Today I want to talk a bit about my interpretation of chapter 286, and more specifically, the deep romantism that fits in those few pages.

I think this chapter is extremely interesting, because in just 2 pages and a half, Togashi manages to convey something extremely meaningful and terribly sad and tragic that takes root in a promise made about 200 chapters prior.

More specifically, Togashi found a way to highlight in this chapter in a lot of different ways that Killua’s wish to die with Gon in a shinjuu sparks out of love, by making an objective character highlight it and by sealing the chapter with a shooting star, reminiscent of the shooting star sealing their wish to stay together during their night on Whale Island.

In this post, I will talk about the deep romantic subtext of this scene, because holy shit is it drenched in romance.

This analysis will be purely subjective ! I’m not claiming that this will be objective, because it will not be. Interpretations are usually subjective, and this is my personal take on the subject, not an ultimate way to analyze this scene at all ! I’ll be very clear, to me, at this point of the story, Killua is canonically in love with Gon. This is my basis for this interpretation, so I will not be objective at all. But if subjective interpretations don’t bother you, then enjoy your read!

Chapter 286 is one of the most important chapters in the manga to me. It’s the culmination of everything that Killua and Gon went through together, the only logical conclusion to what we saw developing right before our eyes, but yet, it’s still terribly heartbreaking to hear it coming from Killua’s mouth. Killua wants to die with Gon because he’s in love with him.

By asserting that he wants to commit 心中 (shinjuu, lovers suicide), with Gon, Killua is canonizing his romantic feelings for Gon in the most heartbreaking way. Because this love is leading him to self-destruction, and his love is so devoted that he’s willing to throw his life away to follow Gon in death.

If you haven’t read this meta post on shinjuu, I suggest doing so before reading this post, so you know the full implications of Killua’s double suicide wish : the word Killua uses, shinjuu, refers to double suicide commited by two lovers.

I think the one thing that intrigued me the most in this scene at first was the fact that Meleoron is present for it. From a narrative point of view, I couldn’t help but wonder why. His presence adds nothing to the plot, and we could’ve been made aware of Killua’s intentions by having us witness another one of his internal monologues, like all the ones we’ve seen before.

But to me, the reason why Meleoron is there takes root in the nature of the scene. Shinjuu is such a heavy subject, that Killua passes off as a joke, so Meleoron is there for the sole purpose of highlighting that Killua is not kidding about this at all.

Killua is very, very serious about this.

And I feel like, if Meleoron wasn’t there and we were made aware of Killua’s shinjuu wish through an internal monologue, it wouldn’t have had the same impact, because Killua could effectively pass it off as a joke. But Meleoron, an outsider, who’s as objective as one can be, highlights that Killua is dead serious. His role in this scene is to emphasize that yes, Killua is planning to die alongside Gon out of love.

When Killua expresses his wish to commit shinjuu and die alongside Gon, Meleoron looks extremely distressed, and stays with this same concerned expression for a few panels, until he finally questions if what Killua is saying is actually a joke.

I’m going to paraphrase what happens next, but basically, Meleoron noticed something was…. off when Gon pushed Killua away. It was too deep a reaction for being pushed away in the context of a mission. Killua’s face was just way too sad for being just told that something didn’t concern him. And I know, we totally understand as readers how deeply it hurts Killua because we’ve seen him dedicate his entire life to Gon, doing what he can to help him, and being pushed away like that stings… But objectively speaking, Killua’s reaction suggests deeper feelings on his part, as Meleoron highlights.

When you look at these panels, it’s clear that Killua’s reaction suggests him feeling more than what he should feel as a friend. And I feel like this is what Meleoron means to highlight when he says “Then why did you have this incredibly sad look on your face?”. To him too, Killua’s reaction was abnormal. He got to witness it, and by seeing Killua looking so sad…It made him realize that there was something going on.

In the few panels that follow, Meleoron’s role is to affirm that Killua’s shinjuu wish is serious, and that he knows it is because he got to see his face when Gon pushed him away.

And by linking this reaction with his shinjuu wish, Meleoron highlights that Killua’s reaction at that time had to do with romantic feelings. Because when Killua mentions shinjuu, wanting to die out of love, Meleoron automatically thinks about what he saw, he automatically connects the dots and thinks “Ah, you plan to die out of love. So that’s why, back there, you looked so sad”. So here, Meleoron highlights that Killua’s reaction at that time had to do with deeper feelings, romantic feelings. To him, Killua’s face when Gon pushed him away justifies that he wouldn’t hesitate to die out of love.

Looking back at Meleoron’s inner monologue, if I paraphrase, it basically conveys : “I know you aren’t kidding about wanting to commit shinjuu because I saw your face when Gon pushed you away and it’s leading me to believe there’s something you’re not telling me that makes you want to die out of love.”

To me, this specific monologue is really meant to canonize further Killua’s romantic feelings towards Gon.

Shinjuu is such a heavy romantically-coded word, and Killua using it truly highlights that he’s willing to die out of love for Gon. His reason for wanting to die alongside Gon is based on romantic feelings, and that’s what shinjuu highlights.

So when Killua says it’s just a joke, that he wouldn’t willingly die out of love for Gon… Well, Meleoron doubts it. Because he was witness to that one heartbreaking scene where Gon pushes Killua away, and Killua’s reaction led him to believe that there was something more.

And this is where it gets interesting.

Meleoron wonders, if everything is alright, if Killua is truly kidding about wanting to die out of love, then why did he look so sad back there…?

It’s because there’s something Killua is not telling him.

What I want to highlight is that answer to that question, that answer to why Killua looked so sad back there, that block of text to the right, the “言えねえし言わねえんだよな?”. In very, very rough, literal translation, this sentence means “you can’t tell me (the reason you looked so sad) and you won’t tell me, right?”

It’s that “言えねえ” that’s important. That verb is the casual, negative version of the verb “ 言える”.

That verb, used here in the negative sense, means “not being able to say”.

So here, Meleoron is highlighting that there’s SOMETHING that Killua can’t tell him. Something that Killua is incapable of telling him, something that’s impossible for Killua to talk about. And that something unsaid, that something unspoken, is the reason Killua looked so sad back there, and ultimately the reason why Killua is not joking about wanting to die out of love with Gon. There’s something that he’s not telling Meleoron that’s pushing him towards committing shinjuu. There are things that Killua can’t talk about, unspoken feelings, that are leading him to consider shinjuu.

Let me paraphrase again, because this line is huge. Basically, Meleoron here is saying : “Back there, your face made me think there’s something you’re not telling me, and that something unspoken is what’s making me believe you’re not kidding about wanting to commit shinjuu and die out of love for Gon.”

Meleoron feels like Killua is lying. He does plan to die alongside Gon out of love. The reason Meleoron feels like he’s lying is because he saw how sad Killua looked back there, and deduced that there’s something Killua can’t talk about. Something that’s making him believe that yes, Killua would absolutely die out of love for Gon.

So here, Meleoron is literally here to highlight Killua’s romantic feelings.

Because this scene talks about shinjuu, which is a romantic word, it automatically makes this scene focus around feelings, and more precisely romantic feelings. So here, Meleoron’s role is to highlight that Killua can’t talk about certain feelings, and that he witnessed these feelings and that makes him think Killua wouldn’t joke about commiting shinjuu.

He’s here to assert and emphasize that yes, Killua is entirely conscious of what he’s saying, and that he’s willing to die out of love for Gon. That it’s not a joke, and that his actions and reactions are proof that he feels something that would make him not hesitate to commit shinjuu.

That idea of something unspoken, something Killua is not saying, something we can’t know is present in visual cues as well. From the moment Killua declares he plans on commiting shinjuu, we don’t get to see his real face anymore. We are denied the right to see his real face, his real emotions, his real expressions. It’s like he’s wearing a mask. Which makes sense, because it goes along with the text. Killua is lying, and hiding his true feelings from Meleoron. By hiding Killua’s face, and even by denying us the right to hear Killua’s inner thoughts and instead making Meleoron be our “eyes”, Togashi is highlighting that notion of “something unspoken”.

Just like Meleoron isn’t allowed to know Killua’s true feelings and is left having to make assumptions based on what he’s seen, we as readers have to do the same. Killua can’t talk about this, it’s just not possible for him, as emphasized by that “言える”. And because we can’t see his true face, his true emotions, we’re left to analyze. Just like Meleoron.

In short, Meleoron is here to emphasize that Killua is refusing to share something, as highlighted by that “言えねえし言わねえんだよな” - “there’s something you can’t tell me and won’t tell me, right?”. Meleoron’s role here is to put the emphasis on the fact that there’s something Killua can’t tell him and that this something is the real reason Killua wants to commit shinjuu.

He’s here to show that Killua is hiding some feelings, unable to share them with him, and that those hidden feelings are the cause of Killua’s shinjuu wish.

He’s here to show that because of these hidden feelings, because of that something Killua can’t talk about and won’t talk about, Killua wouldn’t hesitate to commit shinjuu and die out of love. That something unspoken, those feelings, are the reason Killua wants to commit lovers suicide.

So yeah, considering the fact that the theme of this scene is shinjuu, the suicide of two lovers...I think it’s fair to say that these hidden feelings Meleoron is talking about are definitely love. Romantic love, since shinjuu is a romantic word. Meleoron is here to highlight that Killua can’t talk about it, but he’s in love.

That entire scene covers romantic themes, from the mention of shinjuu to Meleoron highlighting unspoken feelings that are causing Killua to want to die out of love…. It’s just a naturally romantic scene.

But honestly, the one thing that makes me want to book a plane ticket to Japan to yell at Togashi is the last panel. The panel that closes this interaction.

And this is where I’ll be extremely subjective.

We know Togashi is a very smart man. There’s no need to prove that anymore, you can tell by the countless small details and symbolism he puts in his work. So when Togashi draws something, it usually holds meaning.

Meleoron and Killua’s interaction is sealed by a shooting star, the symbol for wishes, and shooting stars usually imply that the person seeing it is making a wish. So here, considering what’s happening in that scene, it can definitely be considered as a shooting star that “seals” Killua’s wish. Killua talked about his wish to die with Gon out of love, and with a shooting star as a closing panel, I feel like it’s meant to seal that wish, to be the physical representation of Killua’s desire to die with Gon. Killua literally wishes, upon a shooting star, to die alongside Gon because he’s in love with him.

But what I want to talk about, and what actually led me to write this post, was that while I was re-reading some panels, I realized…. There’s another very, very important scene that’s sealed with a shooting star in the manga.

The Whale Island stargazing scene.

Once again, a wish is sealed. Killua and Gon sit under the stars and express their wish to stay together, and that wish is sealed by a shooting star.

I’m adding the Japanese version because it adds a little nuance that I really like, that “これからも” - “well, from now on, let’s keep on staying together!”.

This “これから”, that notion of from now implies something special for me, I can’t really explain it, but it adds a certain emotional layer. Maybe it’s that notion of “from now on”, which implies the wish to stay together from an indeterminate amount of time, that notion that they want to stay together in any case… It’s just a very emotional moment.

So basically, this whole chapter is meant to lead up to that one ultimate moment : that proposition to stay together from now on. That moment where they both agree to go on a journey and to be together from this moment onwards.

And like I said, that wish to stick together is sealed by a shooting star.

To my knowledge, the Whale Island stargazing scene and the panel right after Killua’s shinjuu wish are the only two chapters with a panel of a shooting star.

And considering how deeply similar in meaning these two scenes are, I’m going to go ahead and say that these two scenes are purposefully connected by that shooting star panel. Because both these scenes highlight that idea of staying together.

In that shinjuu chapter, Meleoron highlights that Killua’s not telling him something important, that there’s something he can’t say, but that this something, these hidden feelings, are what makes him want to die out of love. And like I explained earlier, I think one of the reasons Killua wants to commit shinjuu is simply “Because I’m in love with him.”.

But with the panel placement, I think an interesting connection can be made here. Right after that panel of Meleoron highlighting Killua’s unspoken feelings that make him want to commit shinjuu, there’s the panel of the shooting star. And while I do think it’s meant to symbolize that wish being sealed, I also think it’s meant to give us a throwback to that Whale Island stargazing scene, a visual cue to link both scenes together.

Because during this scene, Killua and Gon promised to stay together. They promised to travel the world and stay together, and that promise, that wish, that mutual desire to stay together was sealed by a shooting star.

So by adding a visual cue in chapter 286, a shooting star, making us remember that Whale Island scene, Togashi is highlighting another reason Killua wants to die alongside Gon.

“Because we promised to stay together.”

Killua wants to honor that promise, no matter what. Because on that night, they promised to stick together. Because that shooting star back on Whale Island sealed their wish.

And with that same shooting star panel right after Killua’s shinjuu wish, I feel like this is the answer to what Meleoron is wondering, it’s the answer to that something unspoken, it’s the answer to why Killua wants to die alongside Gon.

Because on a cliffside under the stars, all these months ago, they promised to stay together, and Killua wants to honor that wish, because he loves Gon. Because he loves Gon, he’ll honor that promise to stay together, even if it’s in death.

And because by committing shinjuu, the act of dying together out of love with the belief of staying united in the afterlife, Killua will get to stay with Gon. He’ll get to stay with Gon forever, just like they promised. And it’s what Killua wanted most of all. To be by Gon’s side forever.

#killugon #meta #my meta #hi im so fucking sorry for this post #like no for real im really sorry #its fucking angsty #enjoy ur read tho :3 #i can never look at shooting stars ever again ahahahhahaha #hxh meta

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cosmicjoke · 4 years ago

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Levi and Zeke: Their similarities and the Fundamental differences between Them:

I’ve recently been having a discussion with @ourmondobongo, and it’s spurred me to want to kind of analyze further the fundamental and philosophical differences between Levi and Zeke. I know I’ve gone into this thoroughly already, but my discussion with ourmondobongo has really made me want to delve in even deeper. First though, let me thank them for, as always, inspiring such insightful discussion among the fan base!

Some really interesting ideas were posted here, about Zeke’s experiences growing up in Liberio informing his world view and his views on the worth, or rather, lack thereof, in human life. ourmondobongo suggested that, because of Zeke’s experiences with his parents, utilizing him as a tool for the Resistance, and his subsequent utilization by the Marlyean army as a tool of war, it ended up warping his perception, and influencing him to believe that all human life is inherently worthless unless it can be molded into a tool or a weapon to further some goal. I agree with this interpretation of Zeke’s mindset and what shaped it. This is undoubtedly how Zeke views the world, and humanity as a whole, and he’s deemed, because of his own suffering, brought about by his experiences affirming this world view, that life is not worth living. Because he sees life as without value unless one can make themselves useful in some way, in his view, the suffering inherent in that makes life fundamentally pointless and meaningless and not worth the effort.

Now, where I diverge slightly from ourmondobongo’s view on this is in relation to Zeke’s influence upon Levi in the final arc, or rather, what they say about Zeke’s philosophy overriding or undercutting Levi’s own. They said that Levi’s belief in an intrinsic value in human life is bombarded and undermined during the final arc of SnK, Zeke’s own belief in the worthlessness of human life being affirmed to him again and again by the chaos and destruction around them, the rightness of his philosophy and belief that this sort of destruction can only stop with the eradication of the Eldian people being confirmed. But see, the thing is, I don’t think Zeke is at all showing Levi something new, or something which he hasn’t already known all his life.

Zeke claims that his experiences in life make him uniquely suited to understanding the conflict between Eldian’s and Marleyeans, and that his experiences make him uniquely capable of knowing how to solve that conflict. But Zeke is nothing if not a unfailingly self-centered egotist, someone driven purely by selfish, egotistical viewpoints, unable and unwilling to perceive anything outside of his limited world view. His life ISN’T unique, his experiences AREN’T unique. They’re, first of all, shared by every single Eldian on both Marley and in other countries around the world. Further, and more importantly to the point I’m about to make, they’re shared by Levi.

Zeke grew up being treated and regarded as a second-class citizen, relegated to a limited area, an internment zone, which he wasn’t allowed to leave unless given direct permission by the powers that be, and regarded as something less than human by the people of Marley. Well, these are all things Levi himself experienced growing up too, and, I would argue, to an even more extreme degree than Zeke.

Levi grew up in the Underground, a sprawling, subterranean city filled with the so called “dregs of society”. A place where the poor, the persecuted, the sick, the dying, the deviant and the criminal were either forced to flee to, or more unfortunate still, were born into. All this underneath the Capital of Paradis, Sina, the richest, most exclusive district inside the Walls. A place where the elite of society lived and worked and raised their families in wealth and luxury. The irony of the poorest, most poverty stricken area inside the Walls being directly beneath the richest, most affluent area inside the Walls can’t be overstated.

Perhaps most relevant to note in this comparison between Zeke’s experience growing up in an internment zone and Levi’s growing up in the Underground, is that the people of the Underground were not only considered second-class citizens, but relegated to something even below that, considered not citizens at all. They were literally denied citizenship within all areas above ground, within the Walls, and if they somehow managed to make it to the surface, and were found out, they would be promptly deported back to the Underground, where they would continue to be denied any and all rights given to the people up above. And, it can be easily argued, that the people of the Underground were treated in many ways significantly worse than the Eldian’s inside the interment zone in Liberio. The people of Liberio seemed relatively well provided for, able to find work, able to earn a living, able to have homes for their families and put food on the table, essentially allowed a sustainable and comfortable life, if one burdened by outside prejudice. They weren’t made to live in squalor. Largely, no doubt, because they were seen as an unwanted, but useful resource for the Marleyean government. The people of the Underground were provided no such provisions. They were viewed as simple refuse, society’s unwanted and unneeded surplus. Poverty and depravation ran rampant in the Underground, a lack of resources and support from above resulting in high crime rates and desperation, to things like murder, prostitution, violence and other sorts of criminality. Further, leading to things like rampant orphaning of children, likely due to starvation and disease claiming the lives of parents, etc... It was a place literally cut off from the sun, a world of perpetual darkness, sickness, poverty and dire straits. They received no aid or support from above, were not provided any of the benefits or privileges of the people on the surface, were not offered any sort of path to success, or betterment of their lives. They were just plainly rejected and left to the whims of fate. This alone makes it a more difficult and desperate place than the interment zones of Liberio, for even there the Eldian’s were given opportunities to improve their lives through the Warrior Unit programs.

You might try to point out that Zeke’s experience differs from Levi’s in how he was taught that he, and on his assumption, every other Eldian, would only ever be seen and treated as a tool to be used for some greater gain, and that Levi, at least, had the love of his mother, and Kenny to show him the ropes of how to survive in a place as ruthless as the Underground, and so Levi couldn’t possibly understand what it means, the way Zeke does, to be seen as a tool, or to be deemed worthless outside of ones utility. But I would counter this simply, by saying that Levi grew up, spent the first, several years of his life, in a brothel, where the very mother who loved him also worked as a whore. Through this experience alone, it can be easily assumed that Levi was exposed to repeated instances of his mother being EXACTLY used as a tool, as an object who’s sole purpose was to give men pleasure. From his birth, then, Levi was exposed and taught the brutal lesson that the sole most important person in his life, his mother, the one person we can assume was the only positive influence and relationship he had, for the first, several years of his life, was seen and treated by everyone else as nothing more than a tool for their basest and most perverse satisfaction. I can scarcely imagine a more horrific or cruel example of a young child being taught the same lesson Zeke seems to think is unique to him alone, that people’s lives are worthless outside of what use they can provide for someone or something else. Beyond that, Levi was again forced to face a situation in which he and his two, closest friends in Furlan and Isabel were used as tools by other people, recruited by Lobov to kill Erwin and retrieve from him an incriminating document, promised, if they succeeded, citizenship above and a handsome payday, only to find out later the entire scenario had been set up by Erwin himself to press Levi and his friends into military service, to be used as tools in the fight against the Titans. Both of these are prime examples of Levi being faced with the lesson that he and those he cared about were seen by people above ground as nothing more than tools, to be used at their disposal. So this was a concept Levi was already well acquainted with by the time Zeke showed up, a merciless lesson in the harshness, violence, brutality and suffering of life. Zeke didn’t experience anything Levi didn’t in turn, and in many ways, with greater extremity.

Anyone trying to claim, also, that Zeke had no positive influences in his life like Levi did would be wrong. Zeke had Mr. Ksavar, for one, and his grandparents, for another. Mr. Ksavar asked nothing of Zeke, merely showed care and concern for him, and a desire to spend time with him, playing catch. It was Zeke who offered to inherit the Beast Titan from Mr. Ksavar, not something forced on him. And while Zeke’s grandparents may have tried to enforce Marleyean history on him in regards to the Eldian’s, they did so out of love for him, in a misguided attempt to PROTECT him, because they cared, not because they were trying to use him in any way.

My point in talking about all of this is to draw a parallel between Zeke’s life, and Levi’s, and then to demonstrate how, despite deeply similar life experiences, the two of them diverge in vital and fundamental ways which, more than anything, can only be attributed to their strengths of character and natural inclinations as people.

Essentially, the gist of my argument is this. Zeke is a bad person. Levi is a good person. And there can be no excuses, or influencing factors found in either of their lives to credit for the way either of them turned out, other than themselves, other than their own natures.

Because Zeke let his life experiences twist him into a heartless, emotionless, unfeeling sociopath who murders other people without remorse, and regards other human lives as meaningless, worthless trash, expendable and disposable as a means to his own ends. He let his experiences in life serve as an EXCUSE for his natural cruelty. He chose to view the lives of others only through the prism of his own experiences, and cast a judgment upon the worth of those other lives. The true reveal of Zeke’s megalomaniacal egotism is in how he finds himself unable to separate the lives of others from his own. In how he’s unable to view the lives of others as anything other than an extension of his own existence. Because he deems his own life worthless, then so too must be the lives of everyone else.

Levi, then, is perfectly his opposite. It isn’t because of Levi’s life experiences that he’s turned out the way he is. It is IN SPITE of his life experiences that he has. Everything Levi’s ever experienced in his life, according to Zeke’s philosophy, should have turned him into a monster. He should have come out of the Underground a sociopathic, unfeeling, brutally uncaring and violent man, ready to take from and use others for nothing more than his own, personal gain, because that was the lesson his life had taught him. Because that was what he’d been shown over and over again. That life is cruel, and ruthless, and uncompromising in its unfairness, and that to live is to suffer. And yet, Levi came out of the Underground with a greater capacity for compassion, feeling, love and kindness than any other character in SnK. He continually and routinely, throughout the series, demonstrates an incredible empathy, consideration, sympathy, generosity and understanding for other people. He is immensely accepting and nonjudgmental, and always, always goes out of his way to express gratitude towards others for their own sacrifices and efforts. He does his absolute best to protect the lives of others, constantly putting his own at risk to help others live, constantly putting his own at risk to save whoever he can. Constantly and consistently, Levi places the lives of others above his own in terms of worth.

And here’s the thing that makes Levi most remarkable of all. The thing which demonstrates beyond any shadow of a doubt the immense strength of his character. Levi very well knows that life is cruel, that life is brutal, that life is unfair, and that often people die for no damned good reason at all, that they suffer for no reason at all. He very well knows that people are breathtakingly cruel and terrible to one another, that people treat one another in unspeakably horrific and unforgivable ways. He very well knows that the dream of a lasting and peaceful world, a lasting peace between humans, is nothing more than a pipe dream, an unrealistic, unattainable ideal. A fancy only a child should genuinely be able to believe in. And yet, once again, despite KNOWING this, despite every lesson and experience in his life impressing this awful reality upon him again and again and again, Levi still does everything within his limited power to ease the suffering of others, to improve their lives, to protect them and show them kindness, to help in any way he can, whichever way he’s able. Despite knowing the futility of life, the pointlessness of suffering, the injustice of other people’s cruelty, despite knowing these things INTIMATELY, Levi still has in him an open, generous, kind and caring heart. Levi still has in him a deep, unending well of compassion and an unwavering desire to protect and better the lives of all the people around him. It isn’t even Levi’s own dream that he fights for, it is the dreams of OTHERS that he fights for. He can’t ever fully embrace this notion of a peaceful existence, free of violence and deprivation and cruelty, because he knows too well the way of the world. He’s been too mired in the indifferent reality of nature and the human condition to ever, really believe it. But in spite of that, IN SPITE OF IT, he fights to protect that dream and belief that others carry, that others strive towards, that others commit themselves to. He gives everything he has, every piece of himself, to protect a dream that he himself can’t even fully believe in, and for no reason more than that it is something which gives others hope, something which gives other’s a sense of purpose, something which one day, possibly, however slim the chance, might come to pass.

It is all in spite of Levi’s experiences in life, all in spite of his weary and cynical understanding of the world and the people in it, that Levi commits himself to kindness, compassion and the chance to help others, in whatever ways he can, even as he knows deep down the ultimate futility in it, even as he knows his own, relative powerlessness in the face of nature’s unyielding and uncaring apathy.

And that really is the fundamental difference between Levi and Zeke. Two men who have experienced such similar lives, and who have learned early on their lives the cruelties of existing in this world, but one who reacts to those cruelties with defiance and courageous opposition, standing in the face of overwhelming odds, while the other yields to it and lets it excuse his cruelty in turn, bowing to its power and letting it consume him.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #Levi Ackerman #zeke yeager #meta #thoughts

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beevean · 5 years ago

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SEGA and its most recent Sonamy side – more canon than ever

[Translator’s note: this article was originally written in Spanish by @latin-dr-robotnik]

Hello again! Today we’d like to discuss about something that’s been happening recently, and probably taking Sonic fans by surprise: what is going on with SEGA and its stance about Sonamy?

At the beginning of this year, to celebrate the 200 articles on Seaside Hill Paradise, I finished what I call “the Sonamy trilogy” of articles that I started in 2018 and which cover different themes, such as:

SEGA and the eternal issue of the Sonic-Amy dynamic

“I love you” – Forbidden words in Sonic

SEGA and the eternal issue of “Sonic’s girlfriend”

The idea was to offer a more-or-less complete analysis about the many facets of their dynamic in the last 27 years; a dynamic that, you may have noticed, is not that easy to pin down, and that we’ve been updating almost regularly (although I also intended to investigate on other dynamics, like Knuckles and Rouge’s for example, and write about them). Generally speaking, in these articles I don’t draw objective conclusions about the status of the ship in canon (despite the fact that the available information tends to confirm it in various occasions). I also like to repeat myself and say that shipping is supposed to be for fun, not for tearing each other’s hair in that black hole of misery that is Twitter, but recent events left us slightly perplexed, and this is why we’re here once again.

We left the status of the Sonamy canonicity with these two peculiar instances back in August: Sonic mentioning his “girlfriend” in the Japanese version of Sonic Battle, and the Twitter account of SEGA of Europe saying Sonamy is their “favorite videogame romance”. Now, let’s recap a bit…

Sonamy in Sonic IDW... Round 3

[SPOILERS ALERT FOR IDW SONIC #14-#35]

In 2018, when IDW just started, I decided to study a little how the Sonamy dynamic worked in this new universe. To our surprise, the comic didn’t waste time in dropping its biggest bomb, in one of the cutest scenes we had seen in ages. Since the very beginning, IDW proved that it didn’t intend to deceive those fans that looked for a bit of development of both characters.

I wrote an article about it in June 2019, and it coincided with the beginning of one of the most infamous arc I’ve seen in a Sonic comic for a long time: the Metal Virus Saga. The question is, what has happened since then?

Well, in 2019, with the same accuracy of an aimbot, I said “We’ll probably see some new interactions between Sonic and Amy sometime around IDW #20”. And wouldn’t you know, as misery and tragedy settled in that arc, it was exactly around IDW #20 that we saw some Sonamy interactions: both exhausted, to their limit, with a Sonic that couldn’t even touch Amy to soothe her pain, due to him being infected with the virus.

The arc developed like this in what felt like an eternity, to finally conclude in one the most absurd ways in Sonic history. But it wasn’t a complete disappointment, as, after months and months of asking and discussing on the internet about how much Sonic and Amy deserved a hug at the end of the arc… it actually happened.

Since that moment in IDW #32, we shippers thought that it was what both of them deserved after so much time spent separated and pushed to their limit to survive, but also that after the end of the arc everything would go back to normal. However, what we didn’t know was that the Sonamy train had no intention of stopping, not in IDW, nor anywhere else.

A recurring detail in IDW Sonic is that Amy’s tail starts wagging every time she sees Sonic, as if she was a happy dog. I swear, it happens every time.

Come IDW #35, once again we have some hugs and bits of dialogue between our hedgehogs. For sure, the question here isn’t their relationship itself, as it was for IDW #2, but rather the issues this arc is slowly dealing with. But it’s really nice to see them again, sharing that closeness that they’ve had in the comic since the beginning– be it with some gestures of affection, a wink, a gesture, a private joke.

My favorite image is the first one, Belle’s reaction to seeing Amy hugging Sonic. It’s like she’s thinking “oh, is she his girlfriend?”, and she wouldn’t even be wrong in thinking that.

It can’t be denied that IDW Sonic provided us the conversations and the emotions that the games seldom do. Certainly, the comic has its share of issues and it’s not really a story that I personally follow for its own merits (it’s more because it’s still Sonic, for my interest for things like this, and Belle’s existence… whom I already ship with Tails, sorry not sorry), but what it does well it does really well.

For now, we have to see how IDW Sonic will follow the development of the characters, especially in view of the closure of the current story and beyond. And we may be done with this part of the article, but there is still a lot left.

Sonamy in merchandise

Taking us completely by surprise, recently SEGA launched, in collaboration with Hot Topic, a series of Sonamy-themed t-shirts. No, seriously.

So many people told me this as soon as the voice spread (you know who you are, thank you guys for thinking about me <3), and I can’t help being still surprised that this is actually a thing. T-shirts with lines like “You’re my favorite”, “Love in the fast lane”, and my personal favorite, “S&A Forever”, with drawings of Classic Sonic and Amy… in SEGA-approved products. I don’t know if you realize how much of a big deal this is, even more than “Celebrate the 25 years of Sonic’s girlfriend” from 2018.

One of the things that surprised me the most (aside from how explicit they are in officializing the relationship, and the fact that there are still 2 months left before Valentine’s Day 2021), was the decision to use Classic Sonic and Classic Amy. I tried to understand this decision by analyzing the simplicity and easiness with which the Classic designs convey a message (let’s not forget that Classic Sonic was so iconic because it was specifically designed to convey his expressions without words), besides the fact that they’re inherently cuter than their modern designs. There’s also the controversial aspect of post-Adventure Sonamy, with all the dubbing and weird interpretations that the fandom made over the years… By comparison, the Classic design are a much simpler choice.

What is actually going on?

Well, let’s take a step back and think about what we just saw. The way SEGA has been recently trying to push Sonic and Amy in front view (and for the entirety of 2020, based on the articles I mentioned in the beginning) tells us the harsh truth we all have to accept sooner or later: Sonamy sells, and it sells a lot.

From a strictly business point of view, the ship is so iconic and popular, with fans and detractors alike, that it would be absurd for SEGA to ignore the chance to print these two characters and get a load of money. As I said in my 2018 article, despite the fact that in Japan Sonic isn’t as big of an icon as it is elsewhere, they know pretty well that Sonic + Amy = love, and they have huge amounts of merchandise to back it up. It’s in the West that because of different cultural values, of which we’ve already talked about, along with some internal resistance, left this aspect of the franchise a little on the side. But they’ve been trying to fix it… and how…

Let’s not forget that a decade and a half ago Sonic Team seriously favored Sonamy. They officially said it, Sonic X was their purest view of Sonic they had at the time.

Outside of the business perspective, I believe we’re facing the moment that we’ve been waiting for: it’s time they’ll establish once and for all the dynamic of these two characters, following more closely the original Japanese vision of Sonic. I said many times that, in trying to change canon, the West, especially SEGA of America, did nothing but confuse fans and generate more discussions than needed, by introducing different data and portrayals that contradict the canon established by Sonic Team.

We’ve talked about Unleashed and emotional support, about Sonic X, about the major moments that opened the door to interpreting this dynamic as something more. We don’t threaten at gunpoint those who would rather stay away, but we respond to those declarations that still try to violently discredit the simple fact that Sonic and Amy, who are most of all close friends, form in some measure a couple that, even with its imposed limitations, manages to captivate fans and not fans everywhere in the world. Even the Simpsons used it as a joke, and that says a lot.

What the future has in store for us.

Unless something else happens in this last month of 2020, this is the most complete compilation I can offer at the moment about the status of Sonamy in the fandom and in the official canon. Yes, canon.

It’s impossible to ignore the signals. As you may have noticed, I’ve been considering Sonic and Amy as an official couple, with its clarifications (for example, that at the end it’s more of a friendship, that it’s not a romantic relationship in the most explicit way, that it’s more of a personal perspective to justify a more mature vision of the relationship in the future, not right now), but nowadays I think that SEGA has spoken loud and clear. I think canon is ready to negotiate the idea that Sonic and Amy, apart from being excellent friends who would risk their lives for each other in a heartbeat, have something else on their hands (probably the other’s hand). This won’t automatically translate into a kiss, or a complete love declaration (although Sonic X came close…), or a commitment to a formal relationship like we know them in real life. SEGA canon affirms that Amy is “Sonic’s girlfriend” and nothing more. Outside of that detail, they still pretty much function as friends interacting with a little flirting here, and a little Sonic running away there. It’s the basis of their dynamic, now enhanced by the fact that SEGA is giving us a clearer message.

I think that this all may culminate in a game or an animated series, but I wouldn’t completely count on that. It is good to recognize how far the official position goes on this issue, but at the same time I want to reaffirm that there are things that are better left in the hands of the fandom, and in the meantime that IDW or any other continuity gives us hugs, winks, gestures and words of encouragement, we as the fandom will take care of exploring other avenues and hypothetical scenarios.

This is all I have to say on the matter for now, and I hope you’re happy with this wonderful Sonamy experience we’re going through – I certainly am. See you next time!

#sonic the hedgehog #sonamy #amy rose #translation #long post #whew #this one was a doozy #but super interesting #thanks again latin for writing these long ass sonamy posts

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jiangwanyinscatmom · 4 years ago

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[1/?] Sorry for venting. I just saw some bad takes that gave me a lot of feelings. Personally, JC stresses me out every time he comes on screen, but I don't mind it when JC fans say fan-typical things like how they like JC because he wears purple, or is grumpy, or they think he's hot, or that they ship x*ch*ng because the cql actors have nice jawlines. They're harmless, fun takes, and while I don't agree with some of them, I see where they're coming from

Hello there anon, vent away as that is what my blog is open for as I love/hate on Jiang Cheng as he is in the plot, as well as all of my beef with what has been done to him for the EN side of the fanbase! I am more than fine listening and engaging with the unsavory "unpopular" discussions of his canon behavior and this goes for anyone of course that needs an open play area. I'll try to engage with what you have sent point by point as succinctly as I can.

[2/?] (some of these are obviously crack, and I am a fan of a few problematic faves). But then there are stans that just have to put other characters down to make JC look good. Like, I think some fans take their freedom of interpretation for granted because most of these takes aren't even labeled 'headcanon,' 'ooc,' or 'crack' anymore. Stans feel that their interpretations are valid, and while they are, valid =/= canon, and they're treating these takes as canon, which becomes popular fanon.

I enjoy Jiang Cheng for what he is, however as I had said it took me another reread to get to my stance of him being the negative mirror to Lan Wangji's positive and my comfort with that for the story once I realized what purpose he served. He is only insofar tragic in regards to his circumstances, but it does not absolve him for what he is at his core (no pun, but I can make a very nice metaphor that even with a piece of Wei Wuxian in him he is still forever unable and unwilling to stand by him equally all while stagnating where as Lan Wangji is able to flourish, grow and mature with nothing of import left from Wei Wuxian in a technical sense). As for ships, I am a little dirty Xicheng whore for fun and can say there is a sense of entertainment for me making it work with two people where one is wildly ignorant and the other wildly rabid. But that is outside of what is established as canon in the work and I always try to keep the two strictly separate due to the skew fanon perpetuates.

3/?] And now, it's not clear what part of the fanon references canon JC or the canon events of mdzs. JC is an asshole; I don't like him as a person, but I do think that he's a complex character motivated by many issues (sup, YeeZY), which makes him fascinating to explore. Unfortunately, erasing his culpability also removes his agency. JC should be allowed to be an asshole character who makes his own decisions even if they're the wrong ones. He has made his own tragedy by constantly casting Wei Wuxian as the villain of his life.

Now thanks to you I will be using YeeZY to forever and now to acknowledge Madam Yu (this is your fault for the new tag). From a standing from storytelling I agree that he is complex in the Jianghu for MDZS. Where in the usual political intrigue of Wuxia, he would be the mustache twirling villain that is outright unforgivable in narration, it is by favor of Wei Wuxian's narration that has an early steeping of empathy for him. And he is not meant to be seen as ultimately sympathetic, the work builds up his hate against Wei Wuxian who tries to rationalize it all several times until he is finally unable to. Jiang Cheng is the antithesis to Lan Wangji and the false bait to get attached to in Wei Wuxian's first life. I will make the note their meeting in Yiling is lukewarm between both as they exchange nothing really in terms of conversation and all pleasantries are left in terms of Jiang Yanli for Wei Wuxian. By this point Wei Wuxian has already switched his yearnings of platonically wanting a part of Jiang Cheng's life, to subconscious romantic inclinations about Lan Wangji and the perceived loss of being in the other's life.

The very point of Jiang Cheng as the deconstruction, is that he has no passion in life despite his apparent exploits because he put a shadow to hang over himself as an excuse to say others think he is not good enough. He has no deeper motivations than pure selfishness by the end of the work and is pure frivolity that he has built up losing the meaning of his sect as a tradition. He had his agency (more than anyone I might add in the work due to his social position) that he used to build his reputation as a passive rich sect leader that has little to do with civilian problems.

4/?] And I think a JC, somehow, that realizes that he did something wrong and is working hard to change for the better and gain self-actualization to become that UWU best jiujiu the stans want him to be, who is ready to talk (not yell at) with WWX, apologize to him, and create a better, healthier relationship with him is a much more powerful reconciliation and happy ending than 'everyone is wrong and mean and they all apologize to JC, which magically gets rid of all his issues'.

He is forced out of culpability in reconciliation because simply put, his audience do not like the reality that relationships fray and dissolve with no further resolution other than we as adults both need to move on for safety and good health. It is not acceptable in real life and fiction is allowed to place that also in it's thematic relationships. He has a small, small spark of recognition at the end of the main story, however he himself seems to choose to ignore it, as change is hard and he has never taken to that well as was foreshadowed with his dogs and the idea of sharing a space with Wei Wuxian. To write this is an awful lot of work into his psyche which is not a nice place, he is a terrible being and downplaying that to make a sugar sweet person does not work instantaneously. He is the one responsible for the entire fallout with Wei Wuxian and he hysterically realizes that even as he tries to continue to blame Wei Wuxian.

The issue that I have with his current stan culture, is that they already view him as something he is not. They play at bicycle with all of the other protagonists that have positive traits that they strip as they see fit; Good affirming loving to children adult Lan Wangji, Self-sacrificing ultimately did it all for love and care Wei Wuxian, Hard exterior but softened to who they consider an annoyance Wen Qing, Loyal as partners in their exploits on the field and always have each others back Wen Ning. They even take Jin Guangyao's persona of playing damsel and using that as a positive to soften up Jiang Cheng into something he has never been for anyone for ships.

[5/5] Also, making WWX/WN/LWJ apologize just makes them look better than JC. Like, stans supposedly love JC, so they ahouldn't be lazy and work hard to give him actual character development. Again, I'm sorry for spamming your ask. It just really baffles me about where they get these 'hot' takes (All I'm going to say is that JC was ungrateful, and WN had a reason verbally dismantle him).

They see this, but, they will spin it in any way to excuse Jiang Cheng due to the story itself showing that he was in the wrong to everyone he flung accusations at and his hate. No one but him is at fault for his spite as he had gotten his revenge on the ones that had ruined Lotus Pier and killed his parents. His own resentment pitted him against good and well meaning people that he refused to help as he mimicked his mother's words about raising their heads higher out of goodness instead of keeping low and staying self-centered. There is the underlying criticism of taking individual arrogance as self-care at the cost of others. Each point that Wen Ning makes is exactly what Jiang Cheng himself knows as he hated Wei Wuxian for being something he could not be or even wanted to be. Jiang Cheng wants kindness but does not understand that kindness to others needs to be selfless and accept the hurt that can come with that in life. He encompasses the fall from the path of buddhist lifestyle, "The Three Poisons" to Wangxian's "Without Envy" at the stories end.

[6/5] P.S. I'm not saying I want reconciliation fics, but I just feel that if stans want JC to have a happy ending, then I think that he should actively work for it. I think it would be interesting to see what force of nature would push him through a character development because throwing a therapist at him would result in a murder.

"I'm not saying I want reconciliation fics, but I just feel that if stans want JC to have a happy ending, then I think that he should actively work for it."

They do not think he has to work for it, they say his tragedy is enough, while heaping accusations against Wei Wuxian and saying his own are not enough to absolve him. Something Wei Wuxian has never denied and told all present they are allowed to forever hate him for what he had done in the past, but that they need to find a way to live in a life that is always moving on. He learned that grudges do nothing once they are absolved and it leaves you with hate with nothing else to do with it once that object is gone. In terms of reconciliation, I do not ever think that either want anything other than a distant peaceful out of each other's life set up. Jiang Cheng does not need Wei Wuxian in his life to be satisfied and never has since he used him as the handicap to hide behind to stay angry and miserable. Being without that fallback opens the world far more for him to change than him ever interacting like an old friend with Wei Wuxian ever again, if he ever had the guts to do that.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #jiang cheng #yeah I am using that tag block me if it upsets you #pokes this sorry for the length I tried #listen... only i am his trash queen

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beccascribbles · 5 years ago

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kageyama is failing english so he asks you to tutor him. neither of you were expecting the relationship that formed between you as a result.

warnings - swearing, kissing scene, contains a fair bit of angst

word count - 6.3k

a/n - this was originally meant to be a fluffy oneshot where kageyama falls for the person he asked to tutor him. however, it didn’t really end up that way exactly. i hope you enjoy anyway!

read the sequel - ‘selfish when it comes to you’

It was with hands trembling that he approached your desk, shooting a nervous glance over his shoulder at the small group huddled by the door. Hinata waved his hands in a 'go' gesture, encouraging him to approach you, while Yamaguchi gave him a thumbs up. Tsukishima, despite declaring he was not interested in Kageyama's educational escapades, had come to watch. He just wanted to see the boy fail. Raising an eyebrow, you looked up at the black-haired boy that you had immediately recognised as Kageyama. Who could forget that face when you had watched him get stopped in the corridor to be handed small gifts by blushing girls, and then watched him hand them over to the energetic ginger at his side?

"Can I help you, Kageyama?" you questioned, shocking the poor boy. Nervously, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, avoiding making eye contact with you. His expression was tense, and you were almost certain this was something he had been forced to do. A glance at the doorway confirmed this, his small group of friends unable to move out of view fast enough. Although, truth be told, Tsukishima had not even bothered to hide. It had been Yamaguchi pulling him out of sight behind the wall.

"Um..." he stammered, face burning a bright red. To think he could look so at home on a volleyball court but so awkward when tasked with an actual conversation was laughable to you. "Um, I, um, heard that you were really smart from Tsukishima, and Hinata was pretty much singing your praises earlier this week when you helped him study before a test..."

He trailed off, looking behind him again. You could not help but wonder as to what kind of emotional support he was seeking from them. Hinata was snickering as he whispered something to Yamaguchi, who was red from holding in his laughter. Meanwhile, Tsukishima was just smirking at the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Yeah, I heard Hinata passed that test," you said, leaning around Kageyama to shout to the hallway. "Well done, Hinata! I knew you could do it."

"You really helped, l/n," he shouted back, beaming at you. "If you hadn't broken down the concepts in such an easy way, I never would have been able to understand it."

Kageyama cleared his throat in an attempt to bring your attention back to him. His hands were now stuffed in the pockets of his trousers, and he was focused on some point above your head.

"Yes?"

"I-I was wondering if you would be able to tutor me in English," he stated, stumbling and tripping over his words. A loud snicker from the hallway caused him to spin and glare at the taller boy, who just snickered louder. When he moved as if he were about to head towards him, you reached out and clasped his wrist, stilling him.

"I would love to tutor you. When are you free? We can work around your schedule as much as possible. I know how busy you are, what with volleyball practice and all."

"Does this Saturday work?"

And that was how you found yourself sitting beside the black-haired boy at nine o'clock that Saturday morning. Textbooks, along with his workbook, were strewn along the desk in front of you.

Currently, you were going over what he had covered in class that week to attempt to pick out some weak points. It was clear to you that his memory was good. When you had quizzed him, he was able to recite the grammar rules perfectly. His spelling was so accurate it made you slightly envious. But, when it came to the application of those facts, he was clueless. You read the sentence one last time.

"Can you tell me why this is wrong?" you asked, indicating it on the page with a point of your pen. He looked down at the page, brows furrowing in concentration as he read.

"I think my spelling is correct," he stated, looking over at you for reassurance. You nodded your head, urging him to continue. "Is the word order incorrect?"

You again nodded your head. "Yep, that's correct. Well done, Kageyama! Now, can you tell me why the word order is incorrect?"

He rubbed the back of his head, returning to studying the sentence. His pen followed along with the line of writing. "Instead of using the English sentence structure of subject-verb-object, I used the Japanese sentence structure."

You smiled, extremely pleased at his ability to critique his own work so confidently. "Good. Remind me what the Japanese sentence structure is."

"Subject-object-verb," he replied with a confidence that you weren't expecting.

The rest of the session continued in a similar pattern, with you getting him to critique what was wrong in his own work. You thought that by helping him see what he was doing wrong currently, he would be able to learn from his mistakes and stop himself from making them in the future. This seemed to be having the desired effect, with the pause he needed to work it out shortening the longer you worked.

You glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall. It was twelve o'clock. "Alright, I think it's time to wrap this up for now. Can you do the same time next week?"

He nodded in affirmation, beginning to gather up the textbooks to return them to the shelf they had been taken from. You hadn't really needed them due to his knowledge of the basics, so they had simply been on the table to take up space. While he put the books away, you gathered your stuff together to put in your bag, also putting his stuff in a neat pile that he could pack away when he returned. Upon his return, he quickly packed them away, slinging his bag over his shoulder once be had finished. Awkwardly, he pulled at the strap.

"Would you like to get some lunch?" he asked, gaze settling on a slight crack in the wall behind you. "Just as a thanks for helping. Not like as a date or anything."

"Relax," you laughed, patting his arm lightly as you walked past him. "I didn't think it was a date and, now that you mentioned it, I would love to get lunch with you."

It took him a moment to process your words, and the fact that you were already walking towards the exit. Hurriedly, he walked after you, his long strides easily allowing him to catch up. You turned to him with a wide grin, "So, what's the plan? You got a specific place in mind?"

He found himself returning your grin. It was infectious. "Not really. But I'll think of something."

From your first tutoring session onward, it became something of a routine to get lunch together afterwards, leading to the formation of an easy friendship. While Kageyama could still be slightly awkward at times, his habit of blushing furiously had diminished slightly. He genuinely enjoyed the conversations with you. You listened with rapt attention when he ranted about volleyball, a fact that warmed him to his core. It was rare to talk to someone who didn't automatically act uninterested when the topic turned to what he was passionate about. But you admired that passion. You encouraged it. And, like you encouraged his passion, he encouraged yours.

At one of your lunches together, you had let it slip that you were currently working on a novel, just a light-hearted way for you to let your creativity flow. It had never been your intention to write for someone else to enjoy. It was just an escape for you, something you found enjoyment in. Something you were passionate about. Your novel was only a passion project.

"Tomorrow, I'm probably just going to work on my novel," you said in response to Kageyama's question. He had just finished telling you his plans for Sunday (it consisted of a lot of volleyball specific training to fine tune his skills as a setter, and also a run - which he had invited you to join him on one time only for you to immediately refuse) and then enquired after yours.

"Your novel?" he questioned. "You're writing a book?"

"No, no, it's nothing serious," you chuckled awkwardly. This time it was you desperately trying not to make eye contact. "It's only for fun. Like a little passion project."

"For fun?" he said, searching for your gaze across the table. Finally, your eyes dropped to meet his deep blue eyes. "I think it's really cool that you've got something you're passionate about."

Those were almost the exact same words you had said to Kageyama when he had tripped his way through an apology after going on about volleyball for an hour.

"Oh..."

It came out on an exhalation of breath. For most of your life, you had hidden the books you had written, terrified of judgement. Yet here Kageyama was telling you that it was cool. "Um, I can show it to you if you want. Maybe you could read it? Tell me what you think?"

He nodded his head in response. "What's it about?"

You launched into an explanation, not only outlining the plot, but also providing him with the main character's backstory, along with their planned arc. He just listened, nodding his head. The way you were so animated pulled him in, making him admire you even more as a person. It was hard to find people with a true passion, and here were two people with a lot of it.

The friendship you formed was so easy and comfortable to be in for the both of you that you gravitated towards each other. At school, it became rare to see you apart during the break times. It wasn't uncommon for Kageyama to show up outside your class with two cartoons of milk, one for you and the other for him, before you followed him out to the courtyard where you would just sit and chat. Sometimes, you would poke your head into their volleyball practice if you had stayed late in the library. It was always to say goodbye to him but ended with him telling you to wait for him so he could walk home with you. On those days, Daichi always thanked you for stopping Kageyama from practising more.

During the weekends, your tutoring sessions had now moved from the neutral ground of the library to one of your houses. He would host one week, with you hosting the next. If it were at his house, you could guarantee that you would be roped in to helping him with some form of volleyball practice after, leaving you sweaty and in need of a shower. Therefore, Kageyama now had a drawer in his room specifically for you to leave spare clothes in. If it was at your house, after tutoring, you read the next part of your novel to him as he listened, his head resting against your thigh. He would always give you his opinion, managing to explain why he had liked certain parts. Then, you would convince him to watch a film with you. Sometimes it would be a comedy, other times it would be a volleyball documentary.

When Hinata had found out that you had a drawer of your things at Kageyama's place, he had become almost unbearable.

Kageyama had let it slip while he was talking to you about your plans for the weekend, telling you it wasn't necessary to bring any more spare clothes when you visited due to the amount already occupying the drawer. Hinata had chosen that moment to walk up to you.

"Why would Kageyama have your clothes at his?" asked Hinata. Both you and Kageyama paused, sharing a look that Hinata automatically read the wrong way. "Oh my god! Are you dating? No way! There's no way Kageyama would ever find some who would want to date him."

"No!"

"We're not dating!"

You both snapped in unison, blushing profusely. Kageyama glared at the smaller boy, "We're just friends, boke. Stop making a big deal out of nothing."

By the time you were in your third year, everyone just assumed you were dating. You attended all his volleyball games wearing his jersey, would occasionally wait for him to finish practice before going home together and were always with each other. He supported you, always there to cheer you on at a school related event or writing competition. He had, after all, been the one who had encouraged you to enter your first writing contest, where you had won runner-up. The photo of you grinning while holding your certificate was one of his favourites. It was also his lock screen photo. Coincidentally, your lock screen was also a photo of him. It was after he was told that he would be representing Japan in the u19s team. He had looked so happy in that moment that you still felt proud of him whenever you saw the photo. You were also both very affectionate with each other considering you were ‘only’ friends. After breaking through the initial awkwardness he felt at physical closeness, being close to you, touching you, brought him reassurance. He would always have an arm slung over your shoulder as you walked. When sitting, he would always be pressed against you, his body warm where it touched yours. In private, it was common for you just to cuddle. As you watched a film, he would have his arms wrapped around you as you rested on his chest.

There was also the small fact that neither of you had entertained the idea of dating someone during high school. Both of you had been asked out multiple times, only for the answer to be no. It was easy for people to assume Kageyama was just too focused on volleyball to be in a relationship that would require so much of his attention. In your case, people found it odd that you had not even gone on a date. Naturally, they just assumed that Kageyama was your boyfriend, so the confessions of love stopped for the both of you. You were not oblivious as to why they had stopped but decided not to deny the claims. It was easier for people to think you were in a relationship.

Kageyama, as much as he hated himself for it, would sometimes find himself wishing that were the case. He could not deny that he was attracted to you. Wherever you were, his eyes were drawn to you. They would follow you around a room, enticed by the way you moved. And, when you were finally close enough to touch, he was unable to stop himself from reaching out and pulling you towards him. It was definite that his own actions had fuelled the rumours. Most of your potential suitors had been on the receiving end of a cold glare from the setter at your side. However, despite this desire for you, he told himself he would never act on it. This was partly due to volleyball. He could admit that your friendship was distracting enough, able to pull him away from the sport with ease. Entering a relationship with you would make it harder, and he could not let that happen. Volleyball was the most important thing in his life. You would always be second, as much as he might want you or need you to be there with him.

For the most part, you were unaware of his feelings. Or, at the very least, you acted like you were. You could acknowledge that he was both overly protective and affection with you considering he claimed to only view you as a close friend. The glares he directed at people had not gone unnoticed by you, especially as they had always been accompanied by the tightening of his arm around you. Equally, you could not deny that his behaviour towards you made you feel giddy. You could not deny that feeling his arm wrap around you to pull you against him made your heart race, or how the sight of him made your breath catch. You could not deny that having his support meant everything to you. But you also could not deny that his attachment to volleyball would override any feelings towards you, no matter how strong they were.

“You need to tell him to stop,” Ichika said, giving you a pointed look. She could see how much you cared for him, how much this affection for him was slowly destroying you. “The way he’s acting is unacceptable. If he’s not going to date you himself, he should stop being so damn possessive.”

You looked up from your coffee. Her words had struck a chord in you. You knew his behaviour was unacceptable, but you let it continue in the hope that it would transform into what you wanted: for Kageyama to finally act on his feelings for you. “Don’t you think I know that? I know it’s bad. I know I should tell him to stop. But I can’t help thinking that if I let it continue, he may finally realise what’s been staring us in the face for the past two-and a-bit years.”

You were so close to breaking. You could feel your eyes beginning to burn from suppressed tears. Again, you looked down at your coffee, hoping that focusing on a specific point would stop the tears from forcing their way out. Ichika reached out a hand to touch yours gently.

“Come on, y/n,” she practically pleaded. “This isn’t healthy, and you know it. The relationship you have with Kageyama now isn’t good for either of you. You can’t let him control you like this.”

“Control me?” you snapped, pulling your hand out of your friend’s hold. “He’s not controlling me. He would never do that to me. You know as well as me that he struggles with his feelings and how to express them. If I told him how I felt, I know he’d stop. But I don’t want him to. If I tell him, he’ll pull away. I’d rather keep him like this than risk not having him at all.”

“y/n, sit back down,” said Ichika, looking up at you. During your rant, you had risen from your seat. You were visibly shaking, whether from anger at what your friend was insinuating or frustration at the truth of your relationship with Kageyama you could not tell. The tears you had worked so hard to suppress were freely rolling down your cheeks.

“No,” you said, turning to walk away. “I think I’m going to go home. I don’t really feel like talking anymore. I’ll see you at school on Monday.”

You walked out, hands fumbling for your phone. As much as he was the cause for your tears right now, it was his comfort you craved. So, you called him. He picked up on the first ring, sounding breathless as if you had interrupted his training. His greeting was unusually harsh. Shit. You had forgotten that the volleyball team had arranged an extra practice session today to prepare for nationals.

“Tobio...” you said, voice cracking. It was clear you were crying. Your voice was thick with emotion. All he could hear were your sobs in his ear. “I’m sorry. I forgot you were busy. I’ll just call... actually, I don’t know who else I’d call.”

Your laugh was bitter, and the concern he felt for you hit him with so much force he almost keeled over. You had not even told him what you needed yet, and he was already beginning to gather all of his things together. “What is it, y/n? What happened? Where are you?”

“I’m walking to yours from the cafe close by.” Another sob escaped your lips. “I just need to see you.”

He remembered you telling him that you had planned to meet Ichika there for a drink and a chat. You were unsure as to why she had wanted to have a chat, and he could clearly recall you saying that your friend looked very serious when she had asked to meet up. “I’ll be home soon. Just use the key I gave you to go in... What did Ichika tell you?”

That caused you to pause. He heard your breathing still through the phone. What could Ichika possibly have said that would have made you so upset? You interrupted his chain of thought when you spoke again. “It’s not important, Tobio.”

“Not important?” he snapped, fist clenching around his phone. “If it’s not important, then why are you fucking cry? Why did you call me during volleyball practice?”

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed. The sound made his heart crack, almost breaking through his sudden haze of anger. “I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. It’s not a big deal. I’m just getting upset over nothing.”

“Fine.” His voice had changed again, becoming cold. “If it’s nothing, I’ll see you when I finish practice.”

You heard the stuff he had begun to gather clatter to the floor before he hung up. He chucked his phone back in his open bag, turning to face his friends. The rest of the team were still training, but they had stopped, turning to look at him as soon as he had begun to collect his things, the concern evident in his voice and the lines of his body.

“What was that about, Kageyama?” asked Hinata, looking at his friend with concern. Though his voice had been cold before he had hung up on you, Hinata could still see the conflict on his friend’s face. Concern for you was evident in the set of his face, but his need to improve outweighed your obvious need for him in that moment. “l/n is clearly really upset. Why are you still here?”

“You can go to her if you want,” said Yamaguchi. “You know Coach won’t mind. Plus, recently, you’ve been spending more time here than usual. Missing the end of this practice session won’t affect you at all.”

“Let’s just get back to practice.”

Kageyama walked back over to serve again, ignoring the concerned looks his friends shared. Even Tsukishima was worried, his eyes scanning Kageyama as if trying to gauge his emotional state. Throughout the rest of training, guilt gnawed at Kageyama’s conscience. His mind kept drifting to you, your sobs, the way your voice cracked. But he was too stubborn to leave now, too obsessed with improving in volleyball to waste his concern on you. However, as soon as training ended, he was the first to leave, sprinting out of the school.

Before heading home, he grabbed some of your favourite comfort foods, barely even acknowledging that it was physically impossible to eat the amount of food he had shoved into his bag in one sitting. When he entered his house, he headed straight to his room, knowing that was where you were most likely to be.

What he was not expecting was the sight that greeted him. You were curled up on his bed, hugging his pillow to your chest. But that was not what sent a spike of hot desire running through him. You were only wearing his jumper, your clothes neatly folded on the floor at the foot of his bed. In your curled-up position, his jumper just covered your arse, leaving your bare legs on display. It was clear you were fast asleep. With a sigh, he placed the bag of food gently on the floor before reaching for a blanket and placing it over your sleeping form. He brushed a kiss to the top of your head. Then, he left the room to wash.

Once he returned, dressed more comfortably topless and in a pair of loose-fitting joggers, he made his way back over to you, sitting beside your sleeping form on his bed. He brushed your hair away from your face, treasuring the soft feel of your skin against the pads of his fingers. He wanted to lie down with you, to pull you against his chest and curl around you. He wanted to protect you from everything that could hurt you, not realising the main person responsible for that was him, no matter how much you struggled to admit it. But something stopped him from lying down beside you and holding you in his arms.

He had added to your hurt. His sudden anger had not been towards you, though it had been directed your way. Though he had not meant to hurt you then, he knew that he had. But he also knew that incident would not be held against him. It was when he had deliberately made his voice go cold, telling you that he would not be there to comfort you anytime soon. In the back of his head, he knew you were clearly not upset about nothing, that it was important. Hearing you talk like that after interrupting his practice, however, had made him snap. He should not have done it. He should have come running to you. If he was not so obsessed with volleyball...

Kageyama pulled away from you, getting up from the bed. As he turned away to search for a futon to put on the floor, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You croaked softly, “Tobio, can you hold me?”

And your relationship continued in much the same way, the incident of that day largely forgotten, your feelings on the matter remained suppressed. Both of you only had eyes for each other, but neither of you were inclined to speak those feelings aloud. Finally, you graduated from Karasuno, both still firmly attached to each other.

All those hidden feelings eventually fulminated at the graduation party Hinata had decided to host, inviting former members of the Karasuno Volleyball Club along with people from rival teams. Kageyama had asked you to come with him, so you had entered the party on his arm to chorus of ‘so you’re finally together?’ and statements echoing that sentiment. You had had to shake your head, forcing a smile on your face as you jokingly dismissed the claims.

“No, we’re just friends,” you said. “This boy has only got one thing on his mind and that’s volleyball.”

You were unaware of how incorrect that statement was. Since he had secured a spot with the Schweiden Adlers following graduation, his mind had been drifting to you more often. Truth be told, you were often all he could think about - your figure, your touch, your smile. As selfish as it was, he wanted you like this, with him, for as long as you would have him.

Kageyama forced a laugh at your words, not seeing the hurt look in your eyes as he unwittingly agreed with your statement.

“I don’t know why you’re not dating yet,” sighed Sugawara, swaying slightly as he walked up to you. “After he called asking me for advice, I thought he was finally aware of his attraction for you.”

“What?” You blinked at Sugawara, needing a moment to digest his words. Then you spun to face Kageyama. “You what?”

“I’m not attracted to you, y/n,” spat Kageyama, shrugging you off him. “You know as well as I do. We’re only friends... and that’s all we’re ever going to be.”

“Hey...” said Sugawara, fumbling for a way to stop this from escalating. It was clear that Kageyama’s words stemmed from his fear that acting on his feelings would affect his volleyball in some way. Meanwhile, you looked close to crumbling, Kageyama’s last statement highlighting how pointless your feelings towards him were. “Maybe you two should walk away before this escalates.”

“You know what, Kageyama?” you snapped back, the emotions you had been holding back bursting out of you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and your fingernails bit into the skin of your palm. “Fuck off. I’m done with this, whatever this is.”

With that, you spun around, storming further into the party. Kageyama quickly lost sight of your figure in the sea of volleyball players. His cheeks felt wet. He was shaking, all control over his body gone as he launched a punch at the wall to his left. Skin ruptured. Glancing down at his fist revealed split knuckles and blood welling up from the cracks.

“Fuck.”

You pushed through the people, desperately searching for anything to help you feel less empty inside. Less broken. Alcohol. That was your answer. Your gaze landed on a table that looked close to collapsing due to the amounts of bottles on it. No one would miss one measly bottle. Not fully aware of who might be watching you, you grabbed the largest one, took off the cap, and drank from it deeply. The liquid burned your throat, a welcoming distraction from the numbness you were currently drowning in.

This time you pushed through the crowd holding the neck of a bottle, looking for somewhere to collapse. Your eyes landed on the open back door. Perfect. The cool air against your skin made you shiver, causing you to pull the jacket tighter around your form. You studied the black denim. It was Kageyama’s jacket. A bitter laugh escaped your mouth. How fucking typical that you were still relying on him to help you, even if it was just his jacket. Actions guided by nothing more than hatred at your own inability to do anything without him, you ripped it off you, throwing it down beside you.

Without his jacket to ward against the chill, you realised how cold it was. You simply shrugged, raising the bottle to your lips in the hopes that the bite of the alcohol would fight away the cold. When a jacket dropped on your shoulders, you barely registered it.

“l/n, come inside,” said the voice beside you. Vaguely, you recognised it as Tsukishima’s. Blearily, you tilted your head to look up at him. “It’s cold. You’re going to catch a fever or something.”

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you slurred, slipping your arms into the sleeves of his jacket. It was warm. You snuggled further into the warmth. He just rolled his eyes at you, grabbing you from underneath your arms and pulling you to your feet. You stumbled into him, feeling wobbly and unfocused. “Shit, I think I’m drunk.”

“Nope, you’re obviously completely sober.” His voice was dry, the sarcasm in his tone clear. You shot him a glare, poking your tongue out at him. He observed with a hint of superiority in his tone of voice, “Now, that was childish.”

“I don’t care,” you pouted. “I’m drunk and upset.”

Wrapping an arm around his, you leaned on him heavily as he walked with you back into the party. Barely audible above the noise, you mumbled, “I want Tobio. I really love him… Why does he always hurt me?”

To be honest, hearing you like this made Tsukishima’s chest ache. He had his doubts about your relationship with Kageyama, had taken to observing the dynamic between you two. For quite some time, he had seen the hurt that waited just beneath the surface, the way your eyes would suddenly become unfocused when you came to watch Kageyama practice. It was clear you were thinking back to that day, the way he had addressed you so coldly and emphasised the importance of volleyball over your well-being.

Kageyama watched you with Tsukishima from across the room, his right-hand throbbing with pain. After Daichi had helped Kageyama clean it up, he had told him to go home. Kageyama had refused. Despite the words you had spat at him, he could not leave until he knew you were safe. He had watched you, watched as you attempted to drown your sorrows in alcohol. He knew he probably should have approached you, offered to take you home before you got too drunk. It was clearly past that point now. You were clinging onto Tsukishima as if your life depended on it. This made him grit his teeth in annoyance. It should have been him there to support you. Although, if he had not lost his temper with you earlier simply because he was in love with you, none of this would have happened.

He strode across the room towards Tsukishima, powered by some urge to be the one to take care of you like he had been doing since that first tutoring session. “I’m going to take y/n home.”

“Do you really think she wants to be anywhere near you right now?” questioned Tsukishima, glancing down at you briefly. At the sound of Kageyama’s voice, you had let out a breathy moan, fingers twitching on his arm as if you wanted to reach out to him.

“Tobio…” you mumbled, clearly drunk. You removed your arm from Tsukishima’s, reaching out for Kageyama. “I need you. Please. Don’t leave me. I need you.”

I need you.

The words rang around his head as he curled a protective arm around your waist. You were turned into him, nose pressed against the material of his shirt. One of your hands gripped his shirt tightly, fingers curling in the thin material. He began to walk away with you towards his car. Even if this whole situation had not happened, it was still his turn to be the designated driver.

Silently, he helped you into the passenger seat, buckling your seat belt and brushing a soft kiss to your cheek before shutting the car door and making his way to the driver’s side. He opened the door, sliding into the seat and looking over at you once more to double-check that you were strapped in. Much to his surprise (and slight annoyance), you had decided to unbuckle the seat belt. He huffed, leaning over to grab the belt, “Seriously, y/n.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stilling his movement. Slowly, you brought his hand down to rest on the smooth skin of your exposed thigh. Kageyama froze, his gaze flickering to yours. Your face was so close to his he could feel the heat of your breath against his lips. Gently, almost teasingly, you rubbed the tip of your nose against his. He let loose a breath he did not realise he had been holding, allowing the pad of his thumb to begin rubbing smooth circles on your thigh. While his fingers dance across your skin, you grazed your finger along his jawline, the other hand reaching up to tangle in his hair. Unable to help yourself, feeling needy, just wanting him, you leant in, letting your lips brush against his. Once. Twice. On the third time, Kageyama’s restraint broke, the hand on your thigh tightening while the other went to the nape of your neck, pulling you into him harshly.

His lips pushed against yours, the swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip enough for you to open for him. He tasted you. Greedily. Hungrily. His tongue tangling with yours teasingly as the kiss deepened. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you from your seat beside him. You clambered over the gear stick, falling into his lap. The kiss broke momentarily as you adjusted your position, straddling him, both hands clutching onto his black hair. You did not have to wait long until his lips were back on yours, hands trailing down to grasp at your arse as he strained upwards in his seat to push his clothed centre into yours. The moan you let out against his lips did not go unnoticed, and he ground upwards into you, eliciting another soft groan. You pulled away slightly, stuttering out his name, “T-T-Tobio. Fuck.”

Your breath carried with it the stench of alcohol, seeming to pull him to his sense. Suddenly he released you, causing you to flop forward against him, hands still clutching his hair. Your head was pressed against his shoulder. “Tobio?”

He lifted you off him, returning you to your seat beside him. Without looking at you, he put your seat belt back on, trying to avoid touching you, afraid the feel of your skin and the way you were looking at him, eyes dark with desire, would cause him to snap again.

“Tobio?” you questioned again, voice painfully soft, as if you feared his reaction. “Do you not want me?”

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Fuck. Of course, I want you. You don’t know how much I crave you. How much my thoughts end up drifting to you.”

“Then why’d you stop?”

“Because I can’t,” he said, the words physical paining him to speak. “You’re a distraction. One I can’t afford as much as I want it.”

A broken sob escaped your lips. But he did not reach over to offer you comfort, as much as he might have wanted to. And, although that night ended with you sleeping at his house, the next morning, there was a noticeable wall up between you. The once easy affection you shared was unwanted, Kageyama maintaining physical distance with you as much as possible.

And, though it pained you to admit, your relationship was never the same after that. It was never easy. It was never comfortable. It was tense, awkward even. Though you parted ways as friends, him going to the Schweiden Adlers and you off to university, it was as if a fundamental part of your relationship was broken. It was unlikely that part could ever be repaired.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyu oneshot #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #tobio scenarios #tobio imagine #kageyama x reader #kageyama imagine #kageyama angst #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama x you #kageyama x y/n

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whumperscorner · 4 years ago

Note

Hello, my dear Rasko. I would like to order a bit of Pinned to the Wall for the bthb, thank you. 👀

Hello, my dear :3 Your whump is here as ordered

With Nyx, because I know you like him :>

BTHB #4- Pinned to the Wall

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Nyx Ulric, Crowe Altius, Libertus Ostium

Whumpee: Nyx Ulric

Word count: 2775

Warnings: None

Can also be found on ao3

The plan had been very simple. In short: infiltrate the building, get the hostages out and defeat the bad guys. The usual. And admittedly the first two steps had gone pretty well, but if Nyx had learnt anything from being a glaive for as long as he had been it was that plans rarely went off without a hitch, even the simple ones. A small team of Nyx himself and a few others had entered the building undetected and assumed position to await further orders. They had been called to go in, which they did, and that was about when things had gone off the rails.

Nyx's eyes scanned through the chaos of the compact hall they were now in, and chaos really was the word for it. Glaives and members of the opposing group scuffling over each other in disarray. Different weapons shooting from every direction, fists and feet hammering against each other, and residual glimmer from warping still hanging in the air. Nyx cursed under his breath; this was a lot more difficult than it should be. It had gone so well up to this point too, the hostages were all evacuated now, but there were more members of the group than anticipated. Some had been disguised as hostages and some flat out hiding around the building. His team was outnumbered, which meant a change of plans. Ducking under a fist thrown his way, Nyx brought his hand up to the comm in his ear and it crackled to life.

"So how long did backup say?" He asked, voice breathy as he swiftly grabbed the arm of the man who'd punched at him and brought him down. He landed hard on the wooden floor as Crowe's voice sounded back over the comms.

"10- maybe 15 minutes?" She said, her voice also slightly strained from the fighting on her own end. "They want to bring these guys in for questioning, so keep them in this room."

Nyx hummed back in affirmation, swirling around in time to see Libertus a good few feet away felling one aggressor, and two more charging at him. Adrenaline rushed through Nyx's veins as he prepared himself, aiming his kukri above the moving crowds to ensure an uninterrupted warp. In one quick throw he was there, bracing himself and taking one of the assailants down with him as he landed. The guy's head smacked hard into the floor, and he stayed down. Libertus let out a bark of a laugh and brought the second one down himself with couple well placed punches.

"Never a dull day at work huh?" Nyx posed, to which Libs shook his head and chuckled a response. Though Nyx could barely even hear that, narrowly ducking as some blurred projectile whirred past their heads. The two exchanged smug grins and a quick handshake, before turning back to the task at hand and warping their separate ways through the mayhem.

Nyx made his way over to the leftmost side of the room, where one of the few exits were, thinking that if their current objective was to keep the group's members contained that would be the best place to be. And he was right. The area was swarmed and the amount of people there, both friend and foe, made it very hard for anyone to get a proper view of anything. Nyx held his own though, even as his breathing quickened and he was starting to get tired, probably bleeding from various cuts and scrapes as well. Having just finished dealing with one of the many foes Nyx turned, but didn't have time to react fully before someone else jumped forward and tackled him to the floor. The back of his head made contact with the hard surface and he groaned, slightly dazed, but gathered himself soon enough. Using the momentum from the person's tackle to roll back and kick them off overhead, Nyx was quick on his feet again. They just had to keep this going until backup arrived, and he was not going to let up before that.

"Oh, we've got a runner!" Libertus' voice sounded through the comms. "Nyx, he's headed your way."

Nyx swirled around to look and sure enough there was a large, burly man quickly making his way through the crowd, eyes fixed on the exit closer to Nyx. Without a second thought, and without acknowledging the aching of his body, Nyx began running. Ducking and evading fists and weapons as he did so. Someone else charged at him from straight ahead and blocked his way, but Nyx didn't stop, throwing the kukri in his right hand across the floor where he saw an opening. It slid along under multiple pairs of feet, some even jumping to avoid getting nicked by the blade, and Nyx warped after it. He landed only a few short feet away from the open exit, just in time to see the man running ahead down the narrow hallway outside of the room.

"Shit, I'm on it!"

"Nyx wait!" Crowe yelled for him through the comms. "Stay with the team, he's-" but the rest of what she had to say was cut off, and Nyx had already taken off down the hall.

His heart pounded in his chest as he ran, and he was getting a bit dizzy. Nyx cursed inwardly at that, maybe that last warp hadn't been such a good idea. He would need to wait a bit before the next one. Nyx caught a glimpse of the man up ahead right as he took a sharp left turn into another room, and he followed suit. It only took him a few seconds to enter the room after the man, and it took him even shorter to realize what a colossal mistake that had been. He saw it right as he crossed the threshold into the room. As if in slow motion, out of the corner of his eye, bouncing a few times on the floor as it rolled towards him. He realized on instinct what it was, and not being able to warp Nyx's eyes widened and he threw himself to the side. The hand grenade went off, and though Nyx had thrown himself as far away as he could in such little time the blast hit him almost head on.

He felt himself being flung through the air, then hit the floor hard. White hot pain shot out from his right shoulder on impact, and the kukris clattered out of his hands and across the floor. The force of the blast sent him rolling for another few meters until he came to an eventual stop. Nyx was breathing hard and coughed as he tried to gather himself. Shit, his shoulder really hurt when he moved, that was never good but especially not now. With considerable effort Nyx staggered to his feet, clutching the shoulder with his other hand. There was a ringing sound in his ears as he tried to steady himself, and it took him a moment to realize it wasn't just from the blast as Crowe's disjointed voice came through the now busted earpiece.

"Nyx! What… as… at?... yx-" then a head-splittingly loud ringing came from it, and with a low curse Nyx removed it and tossed it aside. It wouldn't be of any help to him now anyways, he decided.

He had just began searching along the floor for his kukris, when the man he had followed appeared out of the shadows by the door where he had been standing, and presumably where he had thrown the grenade from. Nyx's body tensed up, despite how much that hurt. Now looking at close range Nyx recognized the man's face from the mission briefing earlier in the day. He was one of the designated leaders of the organization they were fighting now, hostile to the Crown and reportedly a highly dangerous individual. Not to be engaged with alone if Nyx remembered correctly. Well, he thought somewhat bitterly to himself, bit late for that now.

The man approached slowly and carefully, and Nyx retreated in the same way, careful not to lose sight of the man or lose his footing. The he charged, and Nyx let out an involuntary gasp. He was fast, unfairly so, and Nyx's injuries would only hinder him if he tried to fight. So Nyx dove to the side, hissing in pain and trying to roll on landing to minimize any further damage. Then ensued something Nyx could only describe as a horrific kind of dance around the room. With the man on the offense, rushing at Nyx and attacking repeatedly and himself retreating, ducking and evading as fast as he could. Nyx would pride himself on managing to evade this man in particular for as long as he had but he was growing more and more tired, his injured shoulder was getting progressively worse, and at every turn his exit was blocked. There was no way he could keep this up in the long run. Then finally, Nyx thought he could see an opening. Cornered against the far-right wall of the room, Nyx readied himself again and ducked under and to the side of the man.

For one glorious moment he thought he had made it too, then something tugged harshly at his hair and he was yanked back. Nyx felt is back hit the wall behind him hard and let out a pained cry through grit teeth. A hand was quick to grab around his throat, and when Nyx instinctively pushed back against it, sharp dizzying pain shot out from his shoulder.

"As much as I've enjoyed our little cat and mouse game, I'm going to have to end it here glaive." The man started and tightened his grip on Nyx's throat until tears started prickling in the corners of his eyes and the edges of his vision grew blurry. Then something new came over his face and he loosened the grip just slightly. Something Nyx was grateful for as he coughed and wheezed in the grip. It looked almost like a flash of recognition or a realization of sorts had washed over the man's face, and his expression changed. It got somehow more dangerous. Like he had something planned, and Nyx did not like it. Then he spoke again, and his voice was lower, but no less dangerous. "Nyx Ulric. Of course it had to be you of all people giving me trouble, Hero of the Kingsglaive."

Those last words were almost spat at Nyx and his heart picked up its pace, but he was determined not to let that show. "Ah, so my reputation precedes me then!" he spluttered, putting on a defiant smile and somehow managing to sound way more playful and confident than he actually felt. In response the man put his other hand against Nyx's wounded shoulder threateningly, and before Nyx could protest or struggle hot glowing pain exploded down his side and arm. It radiated from his shoulder. Nyx's head jerked back. The smile dropped almost instantly from his face as he shut his eyes tight and groaned. He didn't open his eyes again until the pressure was let up, and the pain had calmed down to an uncomfortable warm throbbing. What met him then was a stone cold, calculated face, with the mouth twisted into a gross pretend-courteous smile.

"Pleasure." The man said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Then, with seemingly no warning except the slightest twitch to his face the man clenched his free hand into a tight fist and let it collide violently with Nyx's stomach. Nyx's eyes went wide on impact, but he couldn't see, the pain and shock reverberating through him was blinding. Without Nyx even realizing what happened his knees gave out and buckled under him, but the hand around his throat didn't budge. It kept him upright and firmly pinned to the wall as he gasped for air that wouldn't come. His vision was getting blurry, with the man's facial features swirling together into an unclear blob of colour. He felt himself being shook slightly, then a sharp pain across his cheek.

"Oh no no, you don't get to pass out just yet Hero." Nyx heard the man speak as if under water. The voice seemed unclear and far away, and he scrunched up his nose in effort, trying to focus on what was going on. "I can still-"

Then something happened that caught the man's attention, and he stopped talking. The blob that was his head turned. Nyx followed suit and saw more blobs entering the room, blurred swabs of black pooling in from the door. Then multiple things started happening all at once, leaving Nyx no time to be relieved that backup was finally there. Noise exploded through the room. Voices yelled over each other. Nyx was let go of, and with the only thing holding him up now gone he slid unhindered down to the floor, where he stayed. Clutching his shoulder and heaving for breath. Then there were sounds of a fight, and something in the back of Nyx's tired mind told him to get up and join in, but his body wouldn't do what he wanted it to. So he winced and instead opted for trying to gather himself and blink away the blurry edges from his vision.

It worked somewhat, and when two of the blobs broke off from the main blob group's fight and rushed towards him it didn't take him too long to see who it was. And finally, finally Nyx let the tension in his body go, and sighed heavily as Crowe and Libertus reached his side. He offered them both a tired smile and an attempted laugh that was interrupted by a coughing fit.

"Let me look at you," Crowe said as she knelt down next to him, not wasting time waiting for his response before moving Nyx's own hand away from his shoulder and examining it herself. "How is it?"

"Bad." Nyx said, cringing slightly as her hands moved over the throbbing shoulder. "Dislocated maybe?"

"Oh definitely, we're going to have to set it properly before using any potions. Can you manage until then?" Came her answer. Nyx sighed, but nodded. Of course he knew she was right. Crowe kept going, moving on from the shoulder after noticing the blood filtered through Nyx's hair. "And the head?"

"Fuzzy." said Nyx, no point in hiding that. He was managing, but now that the adrenaline was disappearing ignoring the throbbing pain became near impossible. Crowe clicked her tongue and sat back a bit to look him in the eyes.

"Should be fine." She said dryly. The she kept going, deeming Nyx's physical state good enough for her to jab at him. "Now, what was that! The hell do you have to go get blown up for?"

"It's not like I did it on purpose!" Nyx laughed back. He looked up at Libs, who had been watching from the side with a worried crease to his brows, seeking verbal protection of some sort. But his friend just snorted out a laugh and shook his head.

"Jackass." Crowe said, finally letting her expression soften a bit. "Medical team's just outside, can you stand?"

Nyx sucked in a sharp breath. He wasn't entirely sure he trusted his legs to carry him, but he did give it a valiant try. Though as soon as Nyx was standing upright the world started spinning around him and Libertus rushed forward to steady him. They stood still like that for another short moment while Nyx breathed heavily to gather himself before Libertus asked if he was ready to go, and he nodded.

"So what'd you do to make that guy so angry?" Libs asked as they slowly and carefully made their way froward. He gestured his head towards the centre of the room, where the rest of the glaives they'd entered with were working on taking down the man Nyx had fought.

"Well, you know me and my dashing charms." Was Nyx's answer. He sent Libertus a smug smile, to which Libertus groaned and rolled his eyes.

"In that case I'm surprised the worst you got was a dislocated shoulder." He shot back, and Nyx laughed. A genuine laugh despite all the aches of his body.

"Oh, screw you-" He began cheerfully, but another coughing fit interrupted him.

"No, screw both of you," Crowe chimed in. She huffed and shook her head. Though Nyx could swear there was a small smile on her face as she joined in supporting Nyx on his other side, careful not to further aggravate the injured shoulder.

#whump #bthb #bad things happen bingo #final fantasy xv #pinned to the wall #rasko's bthb #ffxv kingsglaive #ffxv whump #nyx ulric #nyx ulric whump #crowe altius #libertus ostium #my writing

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years ago

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 73: Teal

Chapters: 73/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: R

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Mentions of Sexual Activity, NSFW, Starting to Bring Some Threads Together

Summary: Asgard honors the giant as best it can. You continue to dream

The weather turned worse on the way back, until even the well maintained Ring Road was scarcely visible. Eventually, Loki pulled you up into his saddle on Leynarodd's back, seating you flush with his body, and wrapping his back-up cloak around you.

“I will keep you as warm as I may.” He breathed into your ear. “Would it help if I were to whisper lewd and wicked things to you?”

You giggled, but shook your head. “Just cuddle. I want to go to sleep.”

And so, he wrapped his arms around you as well, and let you doze.

Your arrival was heralded with a celebration that woke you with instruments and shouting. You moved back to Acorn as the procession moved through the city, and, still drowsy, participated in a great feast thrown in the giant's honor.

This was a part of Asgardian funerary customs, as taught to you by Saga. The burial honored the dead's body, and the feast honored the dead's spirit. Normally, the revelers told stories of the dead's deeds during life, but no one knew the giant, so instead extolled the accomplishments of all Jotun, across the ages.

You didn't have any such stories, so you listened and ate, as Bogljot described being defeated in a contest of speed by the Forest Giant, Hyrrokkin, as the normally quiet Heimdall sang praises to his many 'mothers', as an older Asgardian you didn't know described the great mountain kingdom of Utgardaloki, for whom Loki was named.

It was dark yet again by the time the feast ended, and Loki led you, stumbling and tipsy on cider, back to his bedroom. He carefully divested you of your armor, stripped every last garment from you, and sat you down on your chair beneath the sunlamp. As the light warmed your skin, Loki also shucked his own clothing, and sat down at your feet. The two of you spent an hour under the warm lamp, Loki reading you various examples of Earth poetry he thought you would like, or resting his head in your lap and letting you toy with his hair.

Finally, when fatigue had clearly caught all the way up with you, Loki turned out the light, and carried you off to bed, where he made love to you until you could no longer keep your eyes open. When you drifted away, it was on a cloud of warm bliss.

******

You found yourself in the glory of open space once more buoyed by sparkling blue light. It came from a gem that you could see now, flying before you like a comet, with yourself gliding along in its glowing tail. You started to reach out for the glittering object once more, but pulled your hand back, vaguely remembering something that put you off of grabbing it. Thoughts echoed within your blood, concepts resolving themselves into impressions in your mind.

You are learning me. Learn me. Learn more.

How? You thought. What are you?

A swirl of something. A blur of light, a different 'texture' than the blue.

Green.

Your right hand itched.

Learn me! Learn me! There is so much of me! Look! See!

Your world jittered, like a heartbeat slightly out of rhythm. With the suddenness of a drop of water in a still pool, the space around you rippled unexpectedly, folded in around you, and instead of nowhere, you were Somewhere.

A world full of green-skinned, red-haired people, thriving, but confused. A woman walked the streets crying out what you assumed to be a girl's name.

Titan, with its orange skies, empty, ruined. A ghost town of a planet.

Earth, running through frigid winds. Other humans ran beside you, dressed for a time long since passed. Frost Giants pursued, driving terror, like dogs, at your heels.

A woman, bald and elegantly androgynous, in flowing robes and surrounded by nothingness. She looked at you with pity, with eyes that pierced right through you.

“You are not ready for what is happening.” She said. “And I am not in a position to help.”

A severed head, the size of a small moon, floating through space. There were lights, cities built upon it, within it. You recoiled in horror, but as you watched, the cities shrank; went dark. The head floated backward, back and back. You blinked, and it was reattached to an impossibly gargantuan body. Another blink and the colossal being orbited a young sun, along with a haphazard belt of asteroids. You watched as they grasped one of the largest of them, and sundered it over their knee.

Wiping the newly exposed surface clean, the being stared out into a space that was dark and sparsely decorated with stars. Then, with fingertips each stained a different color, they grasped the asteroid and began to draw.

******

You awoke, brimming with the feeling that something important had happened while you slept, but couldn't quite pinpoint where that energy was coming from. There was something you felt the need to do, something you couldn't put a name to.

You could barely sit still under your sunlamp, wolfing down your oatmeal and dried fruit. Loki couldn't help but to comment on your increased energy. A wink and a suggestive comment, and you had him back in bed, hands on his chest, riding him for all he was worth.

You sure didn't hear him arguing.

When the two of you were finally presentable, scrubbed and dressed and fed, you took to the halls with your sunlamp in tow. Loki had some meetings to attend today; some job disputes that had come up recently. You had your classes with Saga. A light squeeze of the hand, and you parted ways.

The snow had continued through the night, piling up high against the windows. Reconstruction of your room had been forced to a halt, and all of your things had been moved, either to storage or to Loki's room. The caterpillar in a jar had become a chrysalis in a jar, but the butterfly had not emerged yet. It was possible that the cooler temperatures and lack of light had put it into some kind of stasis: unusual, but not unheard of.

It was still frightening to think that you had caused all that destruction, just because of a dream you couldn't even remember. What if you did that while Loki slept beside you?

There were far more people indoors now that winter had come, doing what Loki had described as their 'real' jobs, weavers and seamstresses, scribes, engineers, jewelers, and so many painters. In every hallway and alcove there was someone with a palette, someone with a pencil, someone carving the plaster into delicate ribbons and knots. Some of them told you they were trying to recreate murals from old Asgard. Others seemed to be trying a new take on their history. Others were focusing on more recent events.

As you walked through the halls, you saw heavily formulaic paintings of what must have been Odin and Frigga, Bor and the terrifying Hela, Heimdall, Thor, and Loki, and many others you didn't recognize. There were battles, and peace treaties, Vanir, Alfar, and Jotnar, There was Njord, Freya, and Freyr, whom you stopped and stared at for a few moments before shaking yourself free.

There were also events and vistas in a different style, some of which must have been pulled directly from the painters own memories. Soaring golden buildings and busy streets, folk dances and blacksmiths forging swords. A riot of berserkers clashing their metal staves, the view of a waterfall ocean.

There were Svartalfari in the great halls, Heimdall destroying a strange vehicle, portals to all of the realms circling each other. There was Frigga, standing tall, holding a sword over her head. There was Frigga, lying in a boat, surrounded by golden light. There was a sparkling red jewel, hanging over the head of a woman you realized must be a stylized Dr. Jane Foster. There were the Avengers again, painted in the heroic style of Asgard, haloed like holy beings. Did the Asgardians see them as the pantheon of Earth?

There was the destruction of Asgard. The great Jotun Surtr, the tiny form of Hela brandishing her thorn-like weapons against him in an almost heroic way. There was the enormous wolf Fenris, grappling with the Hulk. The star-filled expanse of space, with their island spaceship carrying them safely to Earth, a beautiful orb, painted as though seen through a window.

There were the mountains and river outside, rendered in such marvelous detail that you recognized the exact place. There were nightscapes of the Northern Lights.

And there was you.

Your little figure, next to Loki, with your flower crown helm. Among the longhouses of Trolerkaerhalla, wearing the cloak of a Seidkona. It was a very strange feeling, to see yourself immortalized like this. The impostor syndrome flared up, heavy and loud. Logically speaking, you had made history. But why should it have been you? Why should any of this be you?

You hurried through the increasingly colorful halls, seeking out the library. There would always be this battle inside you, between acknowledgment that you were deserving of good things, and belief that there were others so much more deserving.

You rushed into the library, with it's nice new door, and set up your sunlamp. Saga handed you your drum. The Valkyries were here, as well as an ancient, wizened woman who had probably been a Seidkona since the Parthenon had been built. She instructed you strictly, but patiently in the primeval rhythm of Seidkona ritual. There was a chant she was teaching you, a mystical affirmation ritual in a bygone dialect of the Asgardian language, so archaic that the meaning of the words were lost even on your venerable teacher. Saga understood them, but since she was not a Seidkona, she was in essence, forbidden from speaking them.

You got the feeling that it annoyed her a bit.

You were walked through the chant, and the drum beat over and over, committing the sounds to memory, like you had for the past few weeks. The only thing you were missing was the very last syllable of the chant, the knowledge of which would only be imparted on you at the eve of the Buridag festival. Before then, you would not be allowed to speak, or even know it, for fear of completing the spell prematurely.

After your lessons, you spent a little bit of time in one of the library's side rooms, where Asgard's salvaged art treasures were kept. Lofn and her twin Sjofn, who were in charge of preservation, display, and upkeep, were both all too happy to educate you on what they were. Sjofn had just finished cleaning and labeling a collection of Nornheim knives, very similar to your own. You could see the shift in shape and handle style that had occurred over the years of war with Asgard.

They were all made of nornbein, with stone handles, though many of them had been engraved with the names of the Asgardians who had claimed them. Yours had not. In comparison, your knife, with its lance-like blade and cylindrical handle, was clearly from the latter period of Nornheim occupation, while the earlier knives were more leaf shaped, with flattened handles. You wondered how many hundreds of years those changes represented, with rock trolls carefully shaping the blades to their preference, and picking their favorite stones; blue and green, gray, violet, white, banded, and your own pink ruby, to carve into handles. Did the color and type mean anything to them, or had it just been personal preference?

These knives all represented Asgardian lineages which had died out, with no one left to inherit the blades. It was a sad collection to look at, as sad as where the knives had come from in the first place.

Lofn had templates from past Asgardian fashion designers, arranged on an enormous poster board, and carefully glued down flat. As you watched, she affixed strange little clip-like devices at all four corners, and at regular intervals along each side.

“They are useful storage and protective devices.” She explained. “We can make them from Midgardian materials too. You see, when activated, they form a protective field.” She tapped each of them in turn, and they lit up, covering the huge poster board in a very slight, almost imperceptible glow.

“It is protected now.” She announced. In a swift and startling movement, she grabbed one of the newly cataloged knives and stabbed the board with a ferocious growl. You jumped back, even as the blade bounced harmlessly off. She laughed as a glaring Sjofn snatched the knife back. “You see? It cannot be harmed. We protect our precious things in this way.”

“It has another use too.” She grasped the edges of the poster board and squeezed them together. To your amazement, the entire thing-easily as wide as you were tall-shrank to the size of a sheet of paper. “Look, do you see?”

She touched the field and it reacted like an electronic tablet, magnifying and moving across parts of the board, so you could see the details up close.

“You see, don't you? You see?” She asked.

Your gaze shifted, away from the fashion poster, away from the knife collection, to a work of art that had caught your attention earlier in the year. An artwork that wore the same preservation devices.

Ymir's Dreamscape.

“You see.” Lofn said.

#lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

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ill-will-editions · 5 years ago

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QUESTIONS ABOUT THE CURRENT PANDEMIC FROM THE POINT OF VIEW OF IVAN ILLICH

David Cayley

Last week I began an essay on the current pandemic in which I tried to address what I take to be the central question that it raises: Is the massive and costly effort to contain and limit the harm that the virus will do the only choice we have? Is it no more than an obvious and unavoidable exercise of prudence undertaken to protect the most vulnerable? Or is it a disastrous effort to maintain control of what is obviously out of control, an effort which will compound the damage being done by the disease with new troubles that will reverberate far into the future? I hadn’t been writing for long before I began to realize that many of the assumptions I was making were quite remote from those being expressed all around me. These assumptions had mainly come, I reflected, from my prolonged conversation with the work of Ivan Illich. What this suggested was that, before I could speak intelligibly about our present circumstances, I would first have to sketch the attitude towards health, medicine and well-being that Illich developed over a lifetime of reflection on these themes. Accordingly, in what follows, I will start with a brief account of the evolution of Illich’s critique of bio-medicine and then try to answer the questions I just posed in this light..

At the beginning of his 1973 book Tools of Conviviality, Illich described what he thought was the typical course of development followed by contemporary institutions, using medicine as his example. Medicine, he said, had gone through “two watersheds.” The first had been crossed in the early years of the 20th century when medical treatments became demonstrably effective and benefits generally began to exceed harms. For many medical historians this is the only relevant marker – from this point on progress will proceed indefinitely, and, though there may be diminishing returns, there will be no point, in principle, at which progress will stop. This was not the case for Illich. He hypothesized a second watershed, which he thought was already being crossed and even exceeded around the time he was writing. Beyond this second watershed, he supposed, what he called counterproductivity would set in – medical intervention would begin to defeat its own objects, generating more harm than good. This, he argued, was characteristic of any institution, good or service – a point could be identified at which there was enough of it and, after which, there would be too much. Tools for Conviviality, was an attempt to identify these “natural scales” – the only such general and programmatic search for a philosophy of technology that Illich undertook.

Two years later in Medical Nemesis – later renamed, in its final and most comprehensive edition, Limits to Medicine – Illich tried to lay out in detail the goods and the harms that medicine does. He was generally favourable to the large-scale innovations in public health that have given us good food, safe water, clean air, sewage disposal etc. He also praised efforts then underway in China and Chile to establish a basic medical toolkit and pharmacopeia that would be available and affordable for all citizens, rather than allowing medicine to develop luxury goods that would remain forever out of reach of the majority. But the main point of his book was to identify and describe the counterproductive effects that he felt were becoming evident as medicine crossed its second watershed. He spoke of these fall-outs from too much medicine as iatrogenesis, and addressed them under three headings: clinical, social and cultural. The first everyone, by now, understands – you get the wrong diagnosis, the wrong drug, the wrong operation, you get sick in hospital etc. This collateral damage is not trivial. An article in the Canadian magazine The Walrus – Rachel Giese, “The Errors of Their Ways, April 2012 – estimated 7.5% of the Canadians admitted to hospitals every year suffer at least one “adverse event” and 24,000 die as a result of medical mistakes. Around the same time, Ralph Nader, writing in Harper’s Magazine, suggested that the number of people in the United States who die annually as a result of preventable medical errors is around 400,000. This is an impressive number, even if exaggerated – Nader’s estimate is twice as high per capita as The Walrus’s – but this accidental harm was not, by any means, Illich’s focus. What really concerned him was the way in which excessive medical treatment weakens basic social and cultural aptitudes. An instance of what he called social iatrogenesis is the way in which the art of medicine, in which the physician acts as healer, witness, and counsellor, tends to give way to the science of medicine, in which the doctor, as a scientist, must, by definition, treat his or her patient as an experimental subject and not as a unique case. And, finally, there was the ultimate injury that medicine inflicts: cultural iatrogenesis. This occurs, Illich said, when cultural abilities, built up and passed on over many generations, are first undermined and then, gradually, replaced altogether. These abilities include, above all, the willingness to suffer and bear one’s own reality, and the capacity to die one’s own death. The art of suffering was being overshadowed, he argued, by the expectation that all suffering can and should be immediately relieved – an attitude which doesn’t, in fact, end suffering but rather renders it meaningless, making it merely an anomaly or technical miscarriage. And death, finally, was being transformed from an intimate, personal act – something each one can do – into a meaningless defeat – a mere cessation of treatment or “pulling the plug,” as is sometimes heartlessly said. Behind Illich’s arguments lay a traditional Christian attitude. He affirmed that suffering and death are inherent in the human condition – they are part of what defines this condition. And he argued that the loss of this condition would involve a catastrophic rupture both with our past and with our own creatureliness. To mitigate and ameliorate the human condition was good, he said. To lose it altogether was a catastrophe because we can only know God as creatures – i.e. created or given beings – not as gods who have taken charge of our own destiny.

Medical Nemesis is a book about professional power – a point on which it’s worth dwelling for a moment in view of the extraordinary powers that are currently being asserted in the name of public health. According to Illich, contemporary medicine, at all times, exercises political power, though this character may be hidden by the claim that all that is being asserted is care. In the province of Ontario where I live, “health care” currently gobbles up more than 40% of the government’s budget, which should make the point clearly enough. But this everyday power, great as it is, can be further expanded by what Illich calls “the ritualization of crisis.” This confers on medicine “a license that usually only the military can claim.” He continues:

Under the stress of crisis, the professional who is believed to be in command can easily presume immunity from the ordinary rules of justice and decency. He who is assigned control over death ceases to be an ordinary human…Because they form a charmed borderland not quite of this world, the time-span and the community space claimed by the medical enterprise are as sacred as their religious and military counterparts.

In a footnote to this passage Illich adds that “he who successfully claims power in an emergency suspends and can destroy rational evaluation. The insistence of the physician on his exclusive capacity to evaluate and solve individual crises moves him symbolically into the neighborhood of the White House.” There is a striking parallel here with the German jurist Carl Schmitt’s claim in his Political Theology that the hallmark of true sovereignty is the power to “decide on the exception.” Schmitt’s point is that sovereignty stands above law because in an emergency the sovereign can suspend the law – declare an exception - and rule in its place as the very source of law. This is precisely the power that Illich says the physician “claims…in an emergency.” Exceptional circumstances make him/her “immune” to the “ordinary rules” and able to make new ones as the case dictates. But there is an interesting and, to me, telling difference between Schmitt and Illich. Schmitt is transfixed by what he calls “the political.” Illich notices that much of what Schmitt calls sovereignty has escaped, or been usurped from the political realm and reinvested in various professional hegemonies.

Ten years after Medical Nemesis was published, Illich revisited and revised his argument. He did not, by any means, renounce what he had written earlier, but he did add to it quite dramatically. In his book, he now said, he had been “blind to a much more profound symbolic iatrogenic effect: the iatrogenesis of the body itself.” He had “overlooked the degree to which, at mid-century, the experience of ‘our bodies and our selves’ had become the result of medical concepts and cares.” In other words he had written, in Medical Nemesis, as if there were a natural body, standing outside the web of techniques by which its self-awareness is constructed, and now he could see that there is no such standpoint. “Each historical moment,” he wrote, “is incarnated in an epoch-specific body.” Medicine doesn’t just act on a preexisting state – rather it participates in creating this state.

This recognition was just the beginning of a new stance on Illich’s part. Medical Nemesis had addressed a citizenry that was imagined as capable of acting to limit the scope of medical intervention. Now he spoke of people whose very self-image was being generated by bio-medicine. Medical Nemesis had claimed, in its opening sentence, that “the medical establishment has become a major threat to health.” Now he judged that that the major threat to health was the pursuit of health itself. Behind this change of mind lay his sense that the world, in the meanwhile, had undergone an epochal change. “I believe,” he told me in 1988, “that…there [has been] a change in the mental space in which many people live. Some kind of a catastrophic breakdown of one way of seeing things has led to the emergence of a different way of seeing things. The subject of my writing has been the perception of sense in the way we live; and, in this respect, we are, in my opinion, at this moment, passing over a watershed. I had not expected in my lifetime to observe this passage.” Illich characterized “the new way of seeing things” as the advent of what he called “the age of systems” or “an ontology of systems.” The age that he saw as ending had been dominated by the idea of instrumentality – of using instrumental means, like medicine, to achieve some end or good, like health. Characteristic of this age was a clear distinction between subjects and objects, means and ends, tools and their users etc. In the age of systems, he said, these distinctions have collapsed. A system, conceived cybernetically, is all encompassing – it has no outside. The user of a tool takes up the tool to accomplish some end. Users of systems are inside the system, constantly adjusting their state to the system, as the system adjusts its state to them. A bounded individual pursuing personal well-being gives way to an immune system which constantly recalibrates its porous boundary with the surrounding system.

Within this new “system analytic discourse,” as Illich named it, the characteristic state of people is disembodiment. This is a paradox, obviously, since what Illich called “the pathogenic pursuit of health” may involve an intense, unremitting and virtually narcissistic preoccupation with one’s bodily state. Why Illich conceived it as disembodying can best be understood by the example of “risk awareness” which he called “the most important religiously celebrated ideology today.” Risk was disembodying, he said, because “it is a strictly mathematical concept.” It does not pertain to persons but to populations – no one knows what will happen to this or that person, but what will happen to the aggregate of such persons can be expressed as a probability. To identify oneself with this statistical figment is to engage, Illich said, in “intensive self-algorithmization.”

His most distressing encounter with this “religiously celebrated ideology” occurred in the field of genetic testing during pregnancy. He was introduced to it by his friend and colleague Silja Samerski who was studying the genetic counselling that is mandatory for pregnant women considering genetic testing in Germany – a subject she would later write about in a book called The Decision Trap (Imprint-Academic, 2015). Genetic testing in pregnancy does not reveal anything definite about the child which the woman being tested is expecting. All it detects are markers whose uncertain meaning can be expressed in probabilities – a likelihood calculated across the entire population to which the one being tested belongs, by her age, family history, ethnicity etc. When she is told, for example, that there is a 30% chance that her baby will have this or that syndrome, she is told nothing about herself or the fruit of her womb – she is told only what might happen to someone like her. She knows nothing more about her actual circumstances than what her hopes, dreams and intuitions reveal, but the risk profile that has been ascertained for her statistical doppelganger demands a decision. The choice is existential; the information on which it is based is the probability curve on which the chooser has been inscribed. Illich found this to be a perfect horror. It was not that he could not recognize that all human action is a shot in the dark – a prudential calculation in the face of the unknown. His horror was at seeing people reconceive themselves in the image of a statistical construct. For him, this was an eclipse of persons by populations; an effort to prevent the future from disclosing anything unforeseen; and a substitution of scientific models for sensed experience. And this was happening, Illich realized, not just with regard to genetic testing in pregnancy but more or less across the board in health care. Increasingly people were acting prospectively, probabilistically, according to their risk. They were becoming, as Canadian health researcher Allan Cassels once joked, “pre-diseased” – vigilant and active against illnesses that someone like them might get. Individual cases were increasingly managed as general cases, as instances of a category or class, rather than as unique predicaments, and doctors were increasingly the servo-mechanisms of this cloud of probabilities rather than intimate advisors alert to specific differences and personal meanings. This was what Illich meant by “self-algorithmization” or disembodiment.

One way of getting at the iatrogenic body that Illich saw as the primary effect of contemporary biomedicine is by going back to an essay that was widely read and discussed in his milieu in the early 1990’s. Called “The Biopolitics of Postmodern Bodies: Constitutions of Self in Immune System Discourse,” it was written by historian and philosopher of science Donna Haraway and appears in her 1991 book Simians, Cyborgs and Women: The Reinvention of Nature. This essay is interesting not just because I think it influenced Illich’s sense of how bio-medical discourse was shifting, but also because Haraway, seeing – I would claim – almost exactly the same things as Illich, draws conclusions that are, point-for-point, diametrically opposite. In this article, for example, she says, with reference to what she calls “the post-modern body,” that “human beings, like any other component or subsystem, must be localized in a system architecture whose basic modes of operation are probabilistic, statistical.” “In a sense,” she continues, “organisms have ceased to exist as objects of knowledge, giving way to biotic components.” This leads to a situation in which “no objects, spaces or bodies are sacred in themselves; and components can be interfaced with any other if the proper standard, the proper code, can be constructed for processing signals in a common language.” In a world of interfaces, where boundaries regulate “rates of flow” rather than marking real differences, “the integrity of natural objects” is no longer a concern. “The ‘integrity’ or ‘sincerity’ of the Western self,” she writes, “gives way to decision procedures, expert systems, and resource investment strategies.”

In other words, Haraway, like Illich understands that persons, as unique, stable and hallowed beings, have dissolved into provisionally self-regulating sub-systems in constant interchange with the larger systems in which they are enmeshed. In her words, “we are all chimeras, theorized and fabricated hybrids of machine and organism…the cyborg is our ontology.” The difference between them lies in their reactions. Haraway, elsewhere in the volume from which the essay I have been quoting comes, issues what she calls her “Cyborg Manifesto.” It calls on people to recognize and accept this new situation but to “read it” with a view to liberation. In a patriarchal society, there is no acceptable condition to which one could hope to return, so she offers “an argument for pleasure in the confusion of boundaries and for responsibility in their construction.” For Illich, on the other hand, the “cyborg ontology,” as Haraway calls it, was not an option. For him what was at stake was the very character of human persons as ensouled beings with a divine origin and a divine destiny. As the last vestiges of sense washed out of the bodily self-perception of his contemporaries, he saw a world that had become “immune to its own salvation.” “I have come to the conclusion,” he told me plaintively, “that when the angel Gabriel told that girl in the town of Nazareth in Galilee that God wanted to be in her belly, he pointed to a body which has gone from the world in which I live.”

The “new way of seeing things” which was reflected in the orientation of bio-medicine amounted, according to Illich, to “a new stage of religiosity.” He used the word religiosity in a broad sense to refer to something deeper and more pervasive than formal or institutional religion. Religiosity is the ground on which we stand, our feeling about how and why things are as they are, the very horizon within which meaning takes shape. For Illich, the createdness, or given-ness of the world was the foundation of his entire sensibility. What he saw coming was a religiosity of total immanence in which the world is its own cause and there is no source of meaning or order outside of it – “a cosmos,” as he said, “in the hands of man.” The highest good in such a world is life, and the primary duty of people is to conserve and foster life. But this is not the life which is spoken of in the Bible – the life which comes from God – it is a rather a resource which people possess and ought to manage responsibly. Its peculiar property is to be at the same time an object of reverence and of manipulation. This naturalized life, divorced from its source, is the new god. Health and safety are its adjutants. Its enemy is death. Death still imposes a final defeat but has no other personal meaning. There is no proper time to die – death ensues when treatment fails or is terminated.

Illich refused to “interiorize systems into the self.” He would give up neither human nature nor natural law. “I just cannot shed the certainty,” he said in an interview with his friend Douglas Lummis, “that the norms with which we ought to live correspond to our insight into what we are.” This led him to reject “responsibility for health,” conceived as a management of intermeshed systems. How can one be responsible, he asked, for what has neither sense, boundary nor ground? Better to give up such comforting illusions and to live instead in a spirit of self-limitation which he defined as “courageous, disciplined, self-critical renunciation accomplished in community.”

To summarize: Illich, in his later years, concluded that humanity, at least in his vicinity, had taken leave of its senses and moved lock, stock and barrel into a system construct lacking any ground whatsoever for ethical decision. The bodies in which people lived and walked around had become synthetic constructs woven out of CAT-scans and risk curves. Life had become a quasi-religious idol, presiding over an “ontology of systems.” Death had become a meaningless obscenity rather than an intelligible companion. All this was expressed forcefully and unequivocally. He did not attempt to soften it or offer a comforting “on the other hand…”. What he attended to was what he sensed was happening around him, and all his care was to try to register it as sensitively as he could and address it as truthfully as he could. The world, in his view, was not in his hands, but in the hands of God.

By the time he died, in 2002, Illich stood far outside the new “way of seeing things” that he felt had established itself during the second half his life. He felt that in this new “age of systems” the primary unit of creation, the human person, had begun to lose its boundary, its distinction and its dignity. He thought that the revelation in which he was rooted had been corrupted – the “life more abundant” that had been promised in the New Testament transformed into a human hegemony so total and so claustrophobic that no intimation from outside the system could disturb it. He believed that medicine had so far exceeded the threshold at which it might have eased and complemented the human condition that it was now threatening to abolish this condition altogether. And he had concluded that much of humanity is no longer willing to “bear…[its] rebellious, torn and disoriented flesh” and has instead traded its art of suffering and its art of dying for a few years of life expectancy and the comforts of life in an “artificial creation.” Can any sense be made of the current “crisis” from this point of view? I would say yes, but only insofar as we can step back from the urgencies of the moment and take time to consider what is being revealed about our underlying dispositions – our “certainties,” as Illich called them.

First of all, Illich’s perspective indicates that for some time now we’ve been practicing the attitudes that have characterized the response to the current pandemic. It’s a striking thing about events which are perceived to have changed history, or “changed everything,” as one sometimes hears, that people often seem to be somehow ready for them or even unconsciously or semi-consciously expecting them. Recalling the beginning of the First World War, economic historian Karl Polanyi used the image of sleep-walking to characterize the way in which the countries of Europe shuffled to their doom – automatons blindly accepting the fate they had unknowingly projected. The events of Sept. 11, 2001 – 9/11 as we now know it – seemed to be instantly interpreted and understood, as if everyone had just been waiting to declare the patent meaning of what had occurred – the end of the Age of Irony, the beginning of the War on Terror, whatever it might be. Some of this is surely a trick of perspective by which hindsight instantly turns contingency into necessity – since something did happen, we assume that it was bound to happen all along. But I don’t think this can be the whole story.

At the heart of the coronavirus response has been the claim that we must act prospectively to prevent what has not yet occurred: an exponential growth in infections, an overwhelming of the resources of the medical system, which will put medical personnel in the invidious position of performing triage, etc. Otherwise, it is said, by the time we find out what we’re dealing with, it will be too late. (It’s worth pointing out, in passing, that this is unverifiable idea: if we succeed, and what we fear does not take place, then we will be able to say that our actions prevented it, but we will never actually know whether this was the case.). This idea that prospective action is crucial has been readily accepted, and people have even vied with one in another in denouncing the laggards who have shown resistance to it. But to act like this requires experience in living in a hypothetical space where prevention outranks cure, and this is exactly what Illich describes when he speaks of risk as “the most important religiously celebrated ideology today.” An expression like “flattening the curve” can become overnight common sense only in a society practiced in “staying ahead of the curve” and in thinking in terms of population dynamics rather than actual cases.

Risk has a history. One of the first to identify it as the preoccupation of a new form of society was German sociologist Ulrich Beck in his 1986 book Risk Society, published in English in 1992. In this book, Beck portrayed late modernity as an uncontrolled science experiment. By uncontrolled he meant that we have no spare planet on which we can conduct a nuclear war to see how it goes, no second atmosphere which we can heat and observe the results. This means that techno-scientific society is, on the one hand, hyper-scientific and, on the other, radically unscientific insofar as it has no standard against which it can measure or assess what it has done. There are endless examples of this sort of uncontrolled experiment – from transgenic sheep to mass international tourism to the transformation of persons into communications relays. All these, insofar as they have unforeseeable and unpredictable consequences, already constitute a kind of living in the future. And just because we are citizens of risk society, and therefore participants by definition, in an uncontrolled science experiment, we have become – paradoxically or not – preoccupied with controlling risk. As I pointed out above, we are treated and screened for diseases we do not yet have, on the basis of our probability of getting them. Pregnant couples make life and death decisions based on probabilistic risk profiles. Safety becomes a mantra – “farewell” becomes “be safe” – health becomes a god.

Equally important in the current atmosphere has been the idolization of life, and aversion from its obscene other, death. That we must at all costs “save lives” is not questioned. This makes it very easy to start a stampede. Making an entire country “go home and stay home,” as our prime minister said not long ago, has immense and incalculable costs. No one knows how many businesses will fail, how many jobs will be lost, how many will sicken from loneliness, how many will resume addictions or beat each other up in their isolation. But these costs seem bearable as soon the spectre of lives lost is brought on the scene. Again, we have been practicing counting lives for a long time. The obsession with the “death toll” from the latest catastrophe is simply the other side of the coin. Life becomes an abstraction – a number without a story.

Illich claimed in the mid-1980’s that he was beginning to meet people whose “very selves” were a product of “medical concepts and cares.” I think this helps to explain why the Canadian state, and its component provincial and municipal governments, have largely failed to acknowledge what is currently at stake in our “war” on “the virus.” Sheltering behind the skirts of science – even where there is no science – and deferring to the gods of health and safety has appeared to them as political necessity. Those who have been acclaimed for their leadership, like Quebec premier François Legault, have been those who have distinguished themselves by their single-minded consistency in applying the conventional wisdom. Few have yet dared to question the cost – and, when those few include Donald Trump, the prevailing complacency is only fortified – who would dare agree with him? In this respect insistent repetition of the metaphor of war has been influential – in a war no one counts costs or reckons who is actually paying them. First, we must win the war. Wars create social solidarity and discourage dissent – those not showing the flag are apt to be shown the equivalent of the white feather with which non-combatants were shamed during World War One.

At the date at which I am writing – early April – no one really knows what is going on. Since no one knows how many have the disease, nobody knows what the death rate is – Italy’s is currently listed at over 10%, which puts it in the range of the catastrophic influenza at the end of World War I, while Germany’s is at .8%, which is more in line with what happens unremarked every year – some very old people, and a few younger ones, catch the flu and die. What does seem clear, here in Canada, is that, with the exception of a few local sites of true emergency, the pervasive sense of panic and crisis is largely a result of the measures taken against the pandemic and not of the pandemic itself. Here the word itself has played an important role – the declaration by the World Health Organization that a pandemic was now officially in progress didn’t change anyone’s health status but it dramatically changed the public atmosphere. It was the signal the media had been waiting for to introduce a regime in which nothing else but the virus could be discussed. By now a story in the newspaper not concerned with coronavirus is actually shocking. This cannot help but give the impression of a world on fire. If you talk about nothing else, it will soon come to seem as if there is nothing else. A bird, a crocus, a spring breeze can begin to seem almost irresponsible – “don’t they know it’s the end of the world?” as an old country music classic asks. The virus acquires extraordinary agency – it is said to have depressed the stock market, shuttered businesses, and generated panic fear, as if these were not the actions of responsible people but of the illness itself. Emblematic for me, here in Toronto, was a headline in The National Post. In a font that occupied much of the top half of the front page, it said simply PANIC. Nothing indicated whether the word was to be read as a description or an instruction. This ambiguity is constitutive of all media, and disregarding it is the characteristic déformation professionelle of the journalist, but it becomes particularly easy to ignore in a certified crisis. It is not the obsessive reporting or the egging on of authorities to do more that has turned the world upside down – it is the virus that has done it. Don’t blame the messenger. A headline on the web-site STAT on April 1, and I don’t think it was a joke, even claimed that “Covid-19 has sunk the ship of state.” It is interesting, in this respect, to perform a thought experiment. How much of an emergency would we feel ourselves to be in if this had never been called a pandemic and such stringent measures taken against it? Plenty of troubles escape the notice of the media. How much do we know or care about the catastrophic political disintegration of South Sudan in recent years, or about the millions who died in the Democratic Republic of Congo after civil war broke out there in 2004? It is our attention that constitutes what we take to be the relevant world at any given moment. The media do not act alone – people must be disposed to attend where the media directs their attention – but I don’t think it can be denied that the pandemic is a constructed object that might have been constructed differently.

Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau remarked on March 25th that we are facing “the greatest health care crisis in our history.” If he is understood to be referring to a health crisis, this seems to me a grotesque exaggeration. Think of the disastrous effect of smallpox on indigenous communities, or of a score of other catastrophic epidemics from cholera and yellow fever to diphtheria and polio. Can you then really say that a flu epidemic which appears mainly to kill the old or those made susceptible by some other condition is even comparable to the ravaging of whole peoples, let alone worse? And yet, unprecedented, like the Prime Minister’s “greatest ever,” seems to be the word on everyone’s lips. However, if we take the Prime Minister’s words by the letter, as referring to health care, and not just health, the case changes. From the beginning the public health measures taken in Canada have been explicitly aimed at protecting the health care system from any overload. To me this points to an extraordinary dependence on hospitals and an extraordinary lack of confidence in our ability to care for one another. Whether Canadian hospitals are ever flooded or not, a strange and fearful mystique seems to be involved – the hospital and its cadres are felt to be indispensable, even when things could be more easily and safely dealt with at home. Again Illich was prescient in his claim, in his essay “Disabling Professions,” that overextended professional hegemonies sap popular capacities and make people doubt their own resources.

The measures mandated by “the greatest health care crisis in our history” have involved a remarkable curtailing of civil liberty. This has been done, it is said, to protect life and, by the same token, to avoid death. Death is not only to be averted but also kept hidden and unconsidered. Years ago I heard a story about a bemused listener at one of Illich’s lectures on Medical Nemesis who afterwards turned to his companion and asked, “What does he want, let people die?” Perhaps some of my readers would like to ask me the same question. Well, I’m sure there are many other old people who would join me in saying that they don’t want to see young lives ruined in order that they can live a year or two longer. But, beyond that, “let people die” is a very funny formulation because it implies that the power to determine who lives or dies is in the hands of the one to whom the question is addressed. The we who are imagined as having the power to “let die” exist in an ideal world of perfect information and perfect technical mastery. In this world nothing occurs which has not been chosen. If someone dies, it will be because they have been “let…die.” The state must, at all costs, foster, regulate and protect life – this is the essence of what Michel Foucault called biopolitics, the regime that now unquestionably rules us. Death must be kept out of sight and out of mind. It must be denied meaning. No one’s time ever comes – they are let go. The grim reaper may survive as a comic figure in New Yorker cartoons, but he has no place in public discussion. This makes it difficult even to talk about death as something other than someone’s negligence or, at the least, a final exhaustion of treatment options. To accept death is to accept defeat.

The events of recent weeks reveal how totally we live inside systems, how much we have become populations rather than associated citizens, how much we are governed by the need to continually outsmart the future we ourselves have prepared. When Illich wrote books like Tools for Conviviality and Medical Nemesis, he still hoped that life within limits was possible. He tried to identify the thresholds at which technology must be restrained in order to keep the world at the local, sensible, conversable scale on which human beings could remain the political animals that Aristotle thought we were meant to be. Many others saw the same vision, and many have tried over the last fifty years to keep it alive. But there is no doubt that the world Illich warned of has come to pass. It is a world which lives primarily in disembodied states and hypothetical spaces, a world of permanent emergency in which the next crisis is always right around the corner, a world in which the ceaseless babble of communication has stretched language past its breaking point, a world in which overstretched science has become indistinguishable from superstition. How then can Illich’s ideas possibly gain any purchase in a world that seems to have moved out of reach of his concepts of scale, balance, and personal meaning? Shouldn’t one just accept that the degree of social control that has recently been exerted is proportionate and necessary in the global immune system of which we are, in Haraway’s expression, “biotic components?”

Perhaps, but it’s an old political axiom which can be found in Plato, Thomas More, and, more recently, Canadian philosopher George Grant that if you can’t achieve the best, at least prevent the worst. And things can certainly get worse as a result of this pandemic. It has already become a somewhat ominous commonplace that the world will not be the same once it is over. Some see it as a rehearsal and admit frankly that, though this particular plague may not fully justify the measures being taken against it, these measures still constitute a valuable rehearsal for future and potentially worse plagues. Others view it as a “wake-up call” and hope that, when it’s all over, a chastened humanity will begin to edge its way back from the lip of catastrophe. My fear, and one that I think is shared by many, is that it will leave behind a disposition to accept much increased surveillance and social control, more telescreens and telepresencing, and heightened mistrust. At the moment, everyone is optimistically describing physical distancing as a form of solidarity, but it’s also practice in regarding one another, and even ourselves – “don’t touch your face” – as potential disease vectors.

I have said already that one of the certainties that the pandemic is driving deeper into the popular mind is risk. But this is easy to overlook since risk is so easily conflated with real danger. The difference, I would say, is that danger is identified by a practical judgment resting on experience, whereas risk is a statistical construct pertaining to a population. Risk has no room for individual experience or for practical judgment. It tells you only what will happen in general. It is an abstract of a population, not a picture of any person, or a guide to that person’s destiny. Destiny is a concept that simply dissolves in the face of risk, where all are arrayed, uncertainly, on the same curve. What Illich calls “the mysterious historicity” of each existence – or, more simply, its meaning – is annulled. During this pandemic, risk society has come of age. This is evident, for example, in the tremendous authority that has been accorded to models – even when everyone knows that they are informed by little more than what one hopes are educated guesses. Another illustration is the familiarity with which people speak of “flattening the curve,” as if this were an everyday object – I have even recently heard songs about it. When it becomes an object of public policy to operate on a purely imaginary, mathematical object, like a risk curve, it is certain that risk society has taken a great leap forward. This, I think, is what Illich meant about disembodiment – the impalpable become palpable, the hypothetical becomes actual, and the realm of everyday experience becomes indistinguishable from its representation in newsrooms, laboratories and statistical models. Humans have lived, at all times, in imagined worlds, but this, I think, is different. In the sphere of religion, for example, even the most naïve believers have the sense that the beings they summon and address in their gatherings are not everyday objects. In the discourse of the pandemic, everyone consorts familiarly with scientific phantoms as if there were as real as rocks and trees.

Another related feature of the current landscape is government-by-science and its necessary complement - the abdication of political leadership resting on any other grounds. This too is a field long-tilled and prepared for planting. Illich wrote nearly fifty years ago in Tools for Conviviality that contemporary society is “stunned by a delusion about science.” This delusion takes many forms, but its essence is to construct out of the messy, contingent practices of a myriad of sciences a single golden calf before which all must bow. It is this giant mirage that is usually invoked when we are instructed to “listen to the science” or told what “studies show” or “science says.” But there is no such thing as science, only sciences, each one with its unique uses and unique limitations. When “science” is abstracted from all the vicissitudes and shadows of knowledge production, and elevated into an omniscient oracle whose priests can be identified by their outfits, their solemn postures and their impressive credentials, what suffers, in Illich’s view, is political judgment. We do not do what appears good to our rough and ready sense of how things are down here on the ground but only what can be dressed up as science says. In a book called Rationality and Ritual, British sociologist of science Brian Wynne studied a public inquiry carried out by a British High Court Judge in 1977 on the question of whether a new plant should be added to the British nuclear energy complex at Sellafield on the Cumbrian coast. Wynne shows how the judge approached the question as one which “science” would answer – is it safe? – without any need to consult moral or political principles. This is a classic case of the displacement of political judgment onto the shoulders of Science, conceived along the mythical lines I sketched above. This displacement is now evident in many fields. One of its hallmarks is that people, thinking that “science” knows more than it does, imagine that they know more than they do. No actual knowledge need support this confidence. Epidemiologists may say frankly, as many have, that, in the present case, there is very little sturdy evidence to go on, but this has not prevented politicians from acting as if they were merely the executive arm of Science. In my opinion, the adoption of a policy of semi-quarantining those who are not sick – a policy apt to have disastrous consequences down the road in lost jobs, failed businesses, distressed people, and debt-suffocated governments – is a political decision and ought to be discussed as such. But, at the moment, the ample skirts of Science shelter all politicians from view. Nor does anyone speak of impending moral decisions. Science will decide.

In his late writings Illich introduced, but never really developed, a concept that he called “epistemic sentimentality” – not a catchy phrase, admittedly, but one that I think sheds on light on what is currently going on. His argument, in brief, was that we live in a world of “fictitious substances” and “management-bred phantoms” – any number of nebulous goods from institutionally-defined education to the “pathogenic pursuit of health” could serve as examples – and that in this “semantic desert full of muddled echoes” we need “some prestigious fetish” to serve as a “Linus blanket.” In the essay I’ve been quoting “Life” is his primary example. “Epistemic sentimentality” attaches itself to Life, and Life becomes the banner under which projects of social control and technological overreach acquire warmth and lustre. Illich calls this epistemic sentimentality because it involves constructed objects of knowledge that are then naturalized under the kindly aegis of the “prestigious fetish.” In the present case we are frantically saving lives and protecting our health care system. These noble objects enable a gush of sentiment which is very hard to resist. For me it is summed up in the almost unbearably unctuous tone in which our Prime Minister now addresses us daily. But who is not in an agony of solicitude? Who has not said that we are avoiding each other because of the depth of our care for one another? This is epistemic sentimentality not just because it solaces us and makes a ghostly reality seem humane but also because it hides the other things that are going on – like the mass experiment in social control and social compliance, the legitimation of tele-presence as a mode of sociability and of instruction, the increase of surveillance, the normalization of biopolitics, and the reinforcement of risk awareness as a foundation of social life.

Another concept that I believe Illich has to contribute to current discussion is the idea of “dynamic balances” that he develops in Tools for Conviviality. This thought came to me recently while reading, in the Chronicle of Higher Education, a refutation of Italian philosopher Giorgio Agamben’s dissident position on the pandemic. Agamben had written earlier against the inhumanity of a policy that lets people die alone and then outlaws funerals, arguing that a society which sets “bare life” higher than the preservation of its own way of life has embraced what amounts to a fate worse than death. Fellow philosopher Anastasia Berg, in her response, expresses respect for Agamben, but then claims that he has missed the boat. People are cancelling funerals, isolating the sick and avoiding one another not because mere survival has become the be-all and end-all of public policy, as Agamben claims, but in a spirit of loving sacrifice which Agamben is too obtuse and theory- besotted to notice. The two positions appear starkly opposed, and the choice an either/or. One either views social distancing, with Anastasia Berg, as a paradoxical and sacrificial form of solidarity, or one views it with Agamben as a fateful step into a world where inherited ways of life dissolve in an ethos of survival at all costs. What Illich tried to argue in Tools for Conviviality is that public policy must always strike a balance between opposed domains, opposed rationalities, opposed virtues. The whole book is an attempt to discern the point at which serviceable tools – tools for conviviality – turn into tools which become ends in themselves and begin to dictate to their users. In the same way he tried to distinguish practical political judgment from expert opinion, home-made speech from the coinages of mass media, vernacular practices from institutional norms. Many of these attempted distinctions have since drowned in the monochrome of “the system,” but the idea can still be helpful I think. It encourages us to ask the question, what is enough? where is the point of balance? Right now this question is not asked because the goods we pursue are generally taken to be unlimited – we cannot, by assumption, have too much education, too much health, too much law, or too much of any of the other institutional staples on which we lavish our hope and our substance. But what if the question were revived? This would require us to ask in what way Agamben might be right, while still allowing Berg’s point. Perhaps a point of balance could be found. But this would require some ability to sustain a divided mind – the very hallmark of thinking, according to Hannah Arendt – as well as the resuscitation of political judgment. Such an exercise of political judgment would involve a discussion of what is being lost in the present crisis as well as what is being gained. But who deliberates in an emergency? Total mobilization – total preoccupation – the feeling that everything has changed – the certainty of living in a state of exception rather than in ordinary time – all these things militate against political deliberation. This is a vicious circle: we can’t deliberate because we’re in an emergency, and we’re in an emergency because we can’t deliberate. The only way out of the circle is by the way in – the way created by assumptions that have become so ingrained as to seem obvious.

Illich had a sense, during the last twenty years of his life, of a world immured in “an ontology of systems,” a world immune to grace, alienated from death, and totally convinced of its duty to manage every eventuality – a world, as he once put it, in which “exciting, soul-capturing abstractions have extended themselves over the perception of world and self like plastic pillowcases.” Such a view does not readily lend itself to policy prescriptions. Policy is made in the moment according to the exigencies of the moment. Illich was talking about modes of sensing, of thinking, and of feeling that had crept into people at a much deeper level. Accordingly, I hope that no one who has read this far thinks that I have been making facile policy proposals rather than trying to describe a fate that all share. Still my view of the situation is probably clear enough from what I have written. I think this tunnel we have entered – of physical distancing, flattening the curve etc. – will be very hard to get out of – either we call it off soon and face the possibility that it was all for naught, or we extend it and create harms that may be worse than the casualties we have averted. This is not to say we should do nothing. It is a pandemic. But it would have been better, in my view, to try and keep going and used targeted quarantine for the demonstrably ill and their contacts. Close baseball stadiums and large hockey arenas, by all means, but keep small businesses open and attempt to space the customers in the same way as the stores that have stayed open are doing. Would more then die? Perhaps, but this is far from clear. And that’s exactly my point: no one knows. Swedish economist Fredrik Erixon, the director of the European Centre for International Political Economy, made the same point recently in defence of Sweden’s current policy of precaution without shut-down. “The theory of lockdown,” he says, is “untested” – which is true – and, consequently, “It’s not Sweden that’s conducting a mass experiment. It’s everyone else.”

But, to say it again, my intention here is not to contest policy but to bring to light the practiced certainties that make our current policy seem incontestable. Let me take a final example. Recently a Toronto newspaper columnist suggested that the current emergency can be construed as a choice between “saving the economy” or “saving granny.” In this figure two prime certainties are pitted against one another. If we take these phantoms as real things rather than as questionable constructions, we can only end up by setting a price on granny’s head. Better, I want to argue, to try to think and speak in a different way. Perhaps the impossible choices thrown up by the world of modelling and management are a sign that things are being framed in the wrong way. Is there a way to move from granny as a “demographic” to a person who can be nursed and comforted and accompanied to the end of her road; from The Economy as the ultimate abstraction to the shop down the street in which someone has invested all they have and which they may now lose. At present, “the crisis” holds reality hostage, captive in its enclosed and airless system. It’s very difficult to find a way of speaking in which life is something other and more than a resource which each of us must responsibly manage, conserve, and, finally, save. But I think it important to take a careful look at what has come into the light in recent weeks: medical science’s ability to “decide on the exception” and then take power; the media’s power to remake what is sensed as reality, while disowning its own agency; the abdication of politics before Science, even when there is no science; the disabling of practical judgment; the enhanced power of risk awareness; and the emergence of Life as the new sovereign. Crises change history but not necessarily for the better. A lot will depend on what the event is understood to have meant. If, in the aftermath, the certainties I have sketched here are not brought into question, then the only possible outcome I can see is that they will fasten themselves all the more securely on our minds and become obvious, invisible, and unquestionable.

FURTHER READING

Here some links to articles which I have cited above or which have influenced my thinking:

https://nationalpost.com/opinion/why-draconian-measures-may-not-work-two-experts-say-we-should-prioritize-those-at-risk-from-covid-19-than-to-try-to-contain

https://www.statnews.com/2020/03/17/a-fiasco-in-the-making-as-the-coronavirus-pandemic-takes-hold-we-are-making-decisions-without-reliable-data/

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/The-evidence-on-Covid-19-is-not-as-clear-as-we-think

https://off-guardian.org/2020/03/17/listen-cbc-radio-cuts-off-expert-when-he-questions-covid19-narrative/ (This story is misheaded – Duncan McCue doesn’t cut off Dr. Kettner – it’s because Kettner gets to make so many strong points that the item is valuable.)

https://off-guardian.org/2020/03/24/12-experts-questioning-the-coronavirus-panic/

https://www.journal-psychoanalysis.eu/coronavirus-and-philosophers/ (Agamben’s view can be found here along with a lot of other interesting material.)

Giorgio Agamben’s Coronavirus Cluelessness (Anastasia Berg’s critique of Agamben)

https://www.spectator.co.uk/article/no-lockdown-please-w-re-swedish (Frederik Erixon)

#Illich #COVID19 #Agamben #biopolitics #ethics #vitalism

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mbtiofwhys · 5 years ago

Text

Kasumi Yoshizawa

Spoiler warning

This article will cover Kasumi’s analysis with heavy spoilers from Persona 5 Royal and her confidant. Don’t even read the premise if you haven’t finished the whole game yet.

Premise

Analyzing Kasumi reveals a series of problems tied to a lack of characterization and poor writing in some areas of the game. We love Persona 5, and typing the main cast was entertaining and we put our best effort in it; however, we can’t blindly praise the game when those praises aren’t earned and, to convey the most objective analysis, we must also consider what went wrong.

Atlus surely gave Kasumi and Sumire an identity, but at the same time the two of them don’t always feel like two realistic and rounded characters, as they rather follow the plot to a point where they become tools used to craft a story.

First there is Kasumi. Since it’s actually her sister Sumire impersonating her, typing her requires a bit of suspension of disbelief, since the real Kasumi is dead and we see her mostly through Sumire’s eyes and memories, which are strong enough to mimic Kasumi’s supposed personality. She may sometimes seem a Mary Sue, especially in her first interactions, as we see her mainly in major plot points created to keep the player interested in the story. That being said, Maruki’s cognitive distortion and consequently Sumire’s biases are enough to assume Kasumi’s MBTI type through what Sumire shows us before the third semester, since she not only behaved like Kasumi, but she also followed her cognitive patterns.

Then there is Sumire. Sumire can’t be typed based on what happens before the third semester since she wasn’t truly herself, thus our analysis will focus on what we can see during January and in the last five ranks of her confidant. One last consideration about Sumire revolves around her character arc. Persona 5 sends a positive message to the players, since it shows how people may suffer in their lives and yet they can recover from past mistakes or traumas. Sumire is one of the characters with the most tragic background but, even if the game gives her a happy ending, we humbly think it’s the only case where there isn’t a real character development, because in the end she still roots her identity in Kasumi, honoring her memory. She doesn’t find her inner strength, either, since she still depends on the protagonist and his support.

Kasumi Yoshizawa

ENFP

Functional Order: Ne - Fi - Te - Si

Perceiving Functional Axis

Extroverted Intuition (Ne) / Introverted Sensing (Si)

Kasumi appears as a polite kouhai, with very good manners and a tendency to over-apologize. But past the superficial, first approach, she reveals to possess both a strong enthusiasm and a certain boldness. Kasumi can be pretty straightforward, she doesn’t shy away from discussions, isn’t afraid of asking questions and never backs off from challenges. Her Ne can be spotted in various points in the game, both inside and outside her confidant. She enjoys debating things, both as a way to express her point of view and as a mean to broaden her knowledge and worldview - she repeatedly uses outer inputs from protagonist in her confidant in order to get some clues on how to get out of her slump. She doesn’t have a clear vision on how to do it, but she knows that if she keeps sticking with protagonist and asking for his opinion and advice, she’ll figure something out. Her first instinct isn’t to restlessly train more, do more, experiment more: the most suitable solution she finds is to seek a perspective different from hers, so she can reflect on herself and approach the problem in a less direct, more global way.

Also, despite the quiet appearance, Kasumi is clearly competitive and ambitious. She doesn’t compete for the fun or the averageness, she competes for the top. But her problem (with gymnastics but this also applies in other situations) lays in her unbalanced NeSi axis: she tends to assume that only because she talked to protagonist and discovered something new about herself that has ignited her determination, she will succeed in everything she does, precisely as she wants to. But spoiler, this isn’t how things work: unrealistic expectations that don’t consider precise steps to take to reach a goal and thus lead to failure are a common high Ne problem, more so since she’s so young. This can also be seen in her approach with cooking a bento for protagonist and her try at the batting cages: she came up with an idea in her head, get over-excited over it, and ended up hitting a wall because she didn’t take proper time to reflect/learn/practice the required skills.

Since her confidant stops at rank 5, her inferior Si isn’t properly developed throughout the game, but it can still be seen in both her tendency to skip middle steps in order to reach a goal faster and her habit of looking at the past and the things that already worked in previous situations, so she can fuel her Ne with more material for self-reflection and comparison.

Judging Functional Axis

Introverted Feeling (Fi) / Extroverted Thinking (Te)

Auxiliary Fi shows in Kasumi through her sense of self and her motivation to train. She spends a great deal of time in her confidant on self reflection, as a way to bring out in her routine what’s inside of her. At the same time she has a strong personality, she knows what she wants and isn’t afraid of actually doing things to obtain it (also due to her Te).

She’s clearly an extrovert but can be very self-aware and self-focused: she defends her beliefs and her hard work as a gymnast, has a clear opinion on the Phantom Thieves’ actions and doesn’t like getting a preferential treatment as a honor student, because she doesn’t see it as a fair thing. At the same time, she’s not scared or influenced by the gossips spreading about her in school, she’s simply annoyed by them - in the end, the petty opinion of other people doesn’t matter, as long as she knows what she’s fighting for. Her love for gymnastic is deep, and this is why she’s so hard on herself when she doesn’t accomplish the goal she’s set: not because she failed other people, rather because she failed herself. Kasumi isn’t much influenced by external pressure, because she is the one who pressures herself the most.

Regarding her Te, the case is similar to her Si: since she only got five ranks, her third and fourth function aren’t properly addressed in the game. Still, her Te can be found in her tendency to take concrete action and look at the results: she searches for external and practical confirmation of her progresses and achievements.

Sumire Yoshizawa

ISFJ

Functional Order: Si - Fe - Ti - Ne

Perceiving Functional Axis

Introverted Sensing (Si) / Extroverted Intuition (Ne)

Sumire doesn’t clearly show her dominant function throughout the game, so we proceeded with a process of elimination. Sumire has a high Fe and is an introvert, thus she must have either Si or Ni as her dominant function. Going deeper in her analysis, her introversion stems from a preference for an inner focus, rather than external stimuli. Sumire always thinks about what went wrong, her past, her sister. When she isn’t focused on her past and how it affects her emotional well-being, Sumire has an external focus tied to what people think about her in comparison to Kasumi, an unhealthy Fe attitude we’ll discuss about later. However, even if she has a high Fe, Sumire doesn’t actively contribute to shape the emotional environment, she rather tries to maintain social harmony if it’s threatened. So, given this premise, we seeked evidences for either Ni or Si. Ni is mostly absent in Sumire: as we stated in Makoto’s analysis, finding what one truly wants to do in life is unrelated to high Ni, since it’s rather a natural human process of self-discovery, required to find one’s place in the world. Since Sumire doesn’t realize what she cares about through a process based on abstract data collected to envision a realistic and plausible future scenario, we may assume she has Si in her stack, in a dominant position.

Evidences of Si may be found in her approach to the past. We always say how Si mustn’t be confused with a simplistic view based on a traditionalist attitude or one’s focus on the past. However, Si does use past experiences to shape the present and this is Sumire’s case. When she faces her true self, thus leaving her fake persona behind, she starts to spend time with the protagonist again. During the second half of her confidant, she tells him how her past defines her: her memories about gymnastics and Kasumi aren’t a mere legacy of what her sister was, something to remember as a way to honor Kasumi. Her past experiences are rather a set of perceived data she now uses to define her life. Sumire wants to reach the top of the gymnastic world, because this is the main goal she shared with Kasumi. A note about this topic: there’s a blurred line between Sumire’s true intentions and her sister’s memory. As we stated before, Sumire tries to understand what she really strives for but, in the end, we believe she only goes back to the starting point, still bound to Kasumi and her love for gymnastics. So, even if Sumire justifies her wish to compete in sport as a self-affirmative activity, we still find appropriate to specify this aspect of her character.

Her dominant Si is paired with inferior Ne. Sumire blindly follows her sister’s dream, she never asks herself what she really wants. This is what she does after leaving her fake persona behind, thus she begins to use her inferior Ne to explore new possibilities. Sumire initially struggles trying to be herself but, even if we aren’t fully committed regarding her catharsis at the end of her confidant, the game shows her resolve to be a gymnast without mimicking Kasumi’s style and boldness. Since she suffers from a trauma so severe it caused her an identity crisis, even her attempts to be open in her training is a sign of a more healthy Ne. On a final note, Sumire is generally more open to new experiences, be it with the Phantom Thieves or protagonist.

Judging Functional Axis

Extroverted Feeling (Fe) / Introverted Thinking (Ti)

Sadly, Sumire’s auxiliary Fe shows mostly in an unhealthy way. Sumire deeply cares about what other people think about her and this is one of the main reason behind her fake persona. She always compares herself to Kasumi, since she has self-esteem issues so deeply rooted she doesn’t even know who she is outside her bond with her sister. So, Sumire joined her in training and initially followed that road because she simply found it pleasurable (in her confidant, she talks about how she liked to eat ice cream as a reward for her training). But then, Sumire started to compare herself to Kasumi, who was the one always on the top, the perfect athlete, while Sumire was the little sister always a step behind her -or at least this is what Sumire thought. What we discover playing the game, though, is how Kasumi, too, admired Sumire and her personality: actually, there was a mutual respect between the two, but Sumire’s unhealthy Fe made her think she was imperfect, incomplete, so she started to mimic Kasumi as a way to become better not only as a gymnast, but also as a person. This is a common Fe problem related to identity: underdeveloped Fe may lead one to heavily rely on external approval and to be overly focused on what people think about them.

Sumire shows Fe also in a more mature and constructive way when she stops pretending to be Kasumi, thus starting to show her caring side. Sumire is always concerned about the emotional well-being of the group, she prefers to be quiet rather than breaking social harmony.

Her auxiliary Fe is paired with tertiary Ti. As for Haru, and since Sumire has only five ranks in her confidant and little screen time in the last semesters (even if she’s involved in major plot events) her Ti is more a consequence of her auxiliary Fe.

For those reasons, this will be a more speculative typing process rather than one based on solid evidences. Sumire may show Ti in her approach to gymnastics: she doesn’t go with the flow, in fact she rather prefers to dissect even an activity so instinctive like sport - she overthinks her style and has a methodical approach. Kasumi, as a P, learned with a process of trial and error: her Te led her to try until she succeeded. Sumire, however, as a J with Si and Ti in her stack, is always focused on details and on finding her personal way to solve a problem, even if it’s one related to sport.

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txthearteu · 5 years ago

Text

extra long tag game (aka a tmi that no one particularly cares for)

tagged by @soobindipity 🥰 thank you bb 😌❤️

tagging @btxtreads @choisoobinie @unlocktxt @bffsoobin (this one is long so feel free not to do it ahahahaksksksks)

note: i found the breakers somewhere here in tumblr but i forgot who the owner is, so full credits to whoever owns these breakers

ONE

tell me the first song that made you stan your current fave group and why did your faves attract you so much?

of course it’s their debut song Crown. I have to admit, I listened to them not because i discovered them but because of the whole “bighit is releasing another boy group” fiasco. people thought the hype would die down, i did too, but to this day the boys never failed me. they consistently made me happy with the content they gave out for everyone to enjoy. also adding, i think i’m attracted to them more (compared to their seniors) since they’re around my age– something in which i feel like i can relate to (in terms of the content they put out, or the jokes, etc)

TWO

rule: answer the ten questions and write your own!

what’s your unrealistic goal for life?

becoming a music artist (pop star) 😔

if you had known that we would be in a global pandemic, what’s one thing that you would’ve done before things shut down (if they have for you)?

travel to Japan and explore the place 😩

what’s an unconventional thing that you carry around with you when you go out?

chopsticks hahahahaha because i usually eat using the spoon and fork when i eat out

favourite type of plushies and why?

anything twotuckgom related! they’re so soft and convenient because of the size. i also kinda wanna buy the bolsters 👀

favourite song right now?

i don’t have any but if you ask what i’ve been jamming to i’d say its city girls by chris brown

something that you’ve always wanted to learn?

producing music, japanese, korean, hacking

tell a funny story about yourself (or just something that you’ve witnessed)

so in the city where i live, there are places in which the canals don’t have any stoppers. i saw this kid walking with his family alongside these canals and he was just vibing with the song he was singing to. he was so into the song he was singing that he missed a step and he kinda slipped and fell in to the canal (don’t worry though there weren’t any serious injuries) and i swear it was a funny sight

headphones or speakers? why?

headphones! when the opportunity is present then i’d listen to my music with no outside noise

craving any food right now? what are you craving?

corndogs 👀

which music streaming platform do you prefer? why?

spotify since i’m on spotify family

😌✌️

questions from eri to me:

what’s the best trip/vacation you’ve ever had?

the vacation i had in Japan last year! 10 days never felt so short in my life and i was planning to go back earlier this year but you know...’rona....

do you have any random fears/phobias? if yes, what are they?

i’m the toughest gal everyone knows but i get really creeped out by butterflies or bugs. i also get scared with inanimate objects that look like a human being when it’s laying still in the dark, i’m scared of mirrors as well HAHA.

weirdest food you’ve ever eaten?

worms

do you have any hidden talents? what can you do?

i can curl my tongue into what seems to resemble a three-leafed clover. i can also mimic voices well and, from what my friends said, i could actually dance well and im super fast in picking up choreography hahaha (ok but it’s what they said okay)

what is an activity you’d like to try out someday?

biking/hiking/camping :>

when did you get your first phone and what type of phone was it?

i think it was back in 4th grade and it was the famous nokia 3310

what is a movie you never get tired of watching?

flipped!

biggest pet peeve?

i absolutely get annoyed when someone tries to rush me and by the time i’m ready, they haven’t readied themselves

earliest childhood memory?

i put sand in this ice-cream-cone-looking rock, and i ate the sand thinking it tasted like ice cream

as a child, what did you want to be? what about now?

a music artist (pop star), until now that’s still my dream but unfortunately, i had to be “practical”

✌️😌

questions from me to you:

android or apple? why?

words of affirmation or physical affection? why?

bean bag or rocking chair? why?

do you view a half-filled glass as half-full or half-empty or an in-between? why? (go as deep as you can)

if someone were to grant your wish right now, what would it be and why?

if someone were to give you anything you want right now, what would it be and why? (something that can be held)

favorite season and why

what made you enter tumblr?

are you happy with where you are in life right now? why or why not?

to see the boys in real life but for it to happen only once in your lifetime, or to meet the boys via online fan meeting as many times as you can in your lifetime? why?

THREE

rule: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people

AIR ༉⋆͙̈

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see the dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE ༉⋆͙̈

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER ༉⋆͙̈

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love simply lit dinners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH ༉⋆͙̈

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love this chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER ༉⋆͙̈

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

FOUR

PERSONAL

name: -

nickname: cj

birthday: oct 12

zodiac: libra

nationality: filipino

languages: english, filipino (and my dialect), lil teeny bit or korean and japanese kskskskksks

gender: female

sexuality: straight

height: 5'1 and a half (spare me the half pls im trying to act tall)

BLOG STUFF

inspiration for muse: --

meaning behind my url: to put it simply, i love txt

blog established: start of quarantine

followers: 43 lovely followers!

FAVORITES

favourite animals: do you know cat and dog?

favourite books: anarchy by styleslegend (swear i've been hyping it since my 1d days) ; the tale of heidi by johanna spyri

favourite colour: yellow/brown/black (can’t choose)

favourite fictional characters: hulk, hinata shoyo, tomoe (from kamisama kiss)

favourite flower: i don’t have any ahahahhaha

favourite scent: mens perfume/deoderant

favourite season: spring

RANDOM

average hours of sleep: 6-9

cats or dogs: (i love them both but i really love dogs but i just wanna hug them both because i love both cats and dogs)

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: coffee is my go to energizer, for some chill time i’d go for hot choco

current time: 22:34

dream trip: japan(again)/australia/europe 😩

dream job: music artist 😔

hobbies: playing instruments [violin piano ukelele sometimes guitar and drums], listening to music, writing songs, beatboxing

hogwarts house: slytherin

last movie watched: oh dear god i cant remember HAHA

last song listened to: bbibbi by iu

no. of blankets you sleep with: 1

random fact(s): if given the chance again, i’d combine mint choco and bubblegum ice cream; when i’m bored i try to re-read all my past lessons AHAHAHAHAHA; currently in a 5-year relationship akshsskskssjsjduskgkad

FIVE

10 things I can’t stop listening to

city girls - chris brown, young thug

angel or devil - tomorrow by together

paradise - bts

zombie - day6

see you again - tyler the creator, kali uchis

dally - hyolyn, gray

love - kendrick lamar, zacari

redemption (with babes wodumo) - kendrick lamar, zacari

pyramids - frank ocean

all in - monsta x

#this was long #but i enjoyed answering it hehe #i'm having a music slump rn so my music choices aren't updated aksshshhshsjsjjsks #i love you all #love me back #🥰❤️

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edwad · 6 years ago

Note

Based on your response to the comment regarding the use of Althusserian concepts; would you say a revolutionary process necessarily involves conscious elements? And are there other concepts of the state that you prefer over the instrumental view of the state?

i guess my argument would be that, even outside of revolutionary scenarios, the traditional understanding of class tends emphasize consciousness in a peculiar (and moralistic way), which is to treat The Capitalists (bad guys) as extremely aware of what’s actually going on while The Workers (good guys) suffer from “false consciousness” (overstated in the secondary literature, compared to its relative non-existence in the primary sources. engels used the term like, Once). the problem then is about whipping up proletarian consciousness (often assumed to be somehow automatically revolutionary after that has been done) against the deliberate attempts by capital (understood here as a group of people) to obscure the realities of the system. althusser’s work is an elaboration on this view.

marx, however, had a completely different approach, which is to focus on the way that capital (now appropriately understood as an “automatic subject”, as a self-moving substance with its own logic) obscures itself. in the unfolding of capital’s categories, marx shows how the money-form covers the tracks of the law of value’s operation at a higher level of abstraction so that there appears to be a contradiction between the “theories” of value and money, when in reality the paradox is immanent to the system and not a matter of conflicting understandings (the common criticism that marx contradicts himself between value and money, value and price, etc stems from this confusion).

what this means is that the concepts are generative of multiple understandings of the concepts themselves, and that these appear contradictory so that these conceptions are often developed into one-sided theories of political economy. this is why marxs project takes the form of a genealogical critique of political economy, which requires interrogating the social forms in order to understand why they appear the way that they do, and why they, bearing the function of social mediation, determine our actions in such a way as to produce and reproduce everyday life, i.e. capitalism, thereby naturalizing it.

this involves an implicit theory of knowledge and necessarily has huge ramifications for how we can understand the development and limitation of class consciousness, because the object under investigation presents itself in a distorted manner. as marx says,

“Reflection on the forms of human life, hence also scientific analysis of those forms, takes a course directly opposite to their real development. Reflection begins post festum, and therefore with the results of the process of development ready to hand. The forms which stamp products as commodities and which are therefore the preliminary requirements for the circulation of commodities, already possess the fixed quality of natural forms of social life before man seeks to give an account, not of their historical character, for in his eyes they are immutable, but of their content and meaning. Consequently, it was solely the analysis of the prices of commodities which led to the determination of the magnitude of value, and solely the common expression of all commodities in money which led to the establishment of their character as values. It is however precisely this finished form of the world of commodities - the money form - which conceals the social character of private labour and the social relations between the individual workers, by making those relations appear as relations between material objects, instead of revealing them plainly. If I state that coats or boots stand in a relation to linen because the latter is the universal incarnation of abstract human labour, the absurdity of the statement is self-evident. Nevertheless, when the producers of coats and boots bring these commodities into a relation with linen, or with gold or silver (and this makes no difference here), as the universal equivalent, the relation between their own private labour and the collective labour of society appears to them in exactly this absurd form.

The categories of bourgeois economics consist precisely of forms of this kind. They are forms of thought which are socially valid, and therefore objective [my emphasis], for the relations of production belonging to this historically determined mode of social production, i.e. commodity production. The whole mystery of commodities, all the magic and necromancy that surrounds the products of labour on the basis of commodity production, vanishes therefore as soon as we come to other forms of production.” [v1: p168-9, penguin ed.]

all of this is to say that the existence of a class unconsciousness does not require a class of evil puppeteers working behind the scenes to obscure the real functioning of the capitalist mode of production; the system generates its own obscuration independently of social actors and, as marx says, involves “a social process that goes on behind the backs of the producers” [v1: p135], which also necessarily applies to the capitalists themselves. all of this is why fetishism is so important to marx, and runs throughout the 3 volumes of capital, explicitly reappearing at the end of v3 when marx tackles the trinity formula. it is only after this is explained that marx closes the chapter on “the revenue and its sources” [part 7 in engels’ edition, divided into smaller chapters] with what we now have as a fragment of the final “chapter” of the three volumes of capital: “classes”.

i dont think this ordering of the sections is an accident, as the elaboration on classes could only come after the clarification of the fetish-forms of the trinity formula, which necessarily complicates the notion of a class of omniscient agents directly overseeing and controlling society, and which also affirms the existence of “the three great classes of modern society based on the capitalist mode of production” [v3: p1025, penguin ed.], contrary to the earlier position developed at the beginning of the communist manifesto where he says that the bourgeois epoch has “simplified class antagonisms”, with the increasing reduction “into two great hostile camps, into two great classes directly facing each other — Bourgeoisie and Proletariat”, which is generally the starting point for most marxist perspectives on class struggle in capitalism.

an alternative theorization/critique of the capitalist state (and with it, the theory of knowledge as it relates to the development of consciousness) would deal with the historically specific nature of capitalist social relations, especially the distinct form of impersonal domination where political and economic rule are divorced from one another in a way that differentiates bourgeois society from others, such as feudalism, where the serf stood in relation to the landlord as the former’s direct political-economic ruler. under capitalism, however, your employer at a retail establishment does not hold direct political power over you, just as the state which you must otherwise obey does not directly control whether or not you may quit your job in retail and move to some other industry. this is the sense in which the onslaught of capital involves the dual constitution of the “free laborer” and “legal subject”, with the former involving the historical “freeing” of labor from the land (and the corresponding freedom to starve to death if one does not submit to wage-labor), while our equivalence as legal subjects in labor contracts is dealt with by marx in a single sentence: “Between equal rights, force decides.” [v1, p344]

obviously, if we were politically and economically ruled by capitalists in a direct way like that which characterizes feudalism, and which is suggested by the instrumentalist conception of the state, this separation would not need to exist (although the conspiracy theorist’s rendering of the theory would be that this separation is an intentionally illusory one meant to make us feel as if we are free, even though this is, as i already suggested, something generated by the system itself regardless of any class malevolence). any critique of the state worth paying attention to must be able to grapple with all of this, and i think the best starting point would be the work of legal scholars like pashukanis and the german state derivation debates beginning in the 1970s, as well as some more recent elaborations by those associated with the “open marxist” tradition (holloway, clarke, bonefeld, etc).

#communism

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silly-anshe · 6 years ago

Text

Different approaches to the truth: Dænerys, Jon and the Iron Throne

(this is in response to this post)

The Starks vs. Dænerys clash is very clear, especially in ep. 4. So we have two scenes in which Jon seems to be in the middle of this clash: both sides want him to pick them. But from what I’ve seen all week is that something really important is flying over people/stans’ heads, and that’s their reasons. While the clash started as something purely political, it turned to be extremely personal (for Dæny in 8x02, for the Starks in 8x04). The conflict is still very much political, but now in a way that not only affects the North but the whole Seven Kingdoms, and it’s personal because it puts at risk the last of two of the greatest Houses in Westeros, all because of RLJ.

While the Starklings view this issue as a personal one, one that has political connotations; for Dænerys is the other way around: this is a political issue that happens to be personal as well.

The scene really start when they kiss, because that will be the catalyst for their conflict in the scene: the fact that Jon is Rhaegar’s son and what that means, both personally and politically.

D: I wish you’ve never told me. If I didn’t know, I’d be happy right now. I try to forget, tonight I did for a while, and then I saw them gathered around you

D: I saw the way they looked at you. I know that look. So many people have looked at me that way but never here, never on this side of the sea.

She wants what Jon has: the people’s devotion. Just as she was Mhysa in Slaver’s Bay, just as she’s the great Khaleesi to the Dothraki, she wants that same devotion from the Lords and Ladies of Westeros, but the thing is Westeros is not the same as Essos. In Essos, she broke chains; in Westeros, she’s trying to subjugate people. Of course people won’t look at her the same way people did back in Essos. She’s been aware of this ever since she set foot in the North:

The fact that she witnesses the loyalty and trust Sansa also has is noteworthy. This ultimately becomes an issue for Dænerys. I believe one of the biggest issues Dæny has with Sansa is the fact that she has the things she so desperately wants: the people’s love, loyalty and trust. And she ends up resenting her for it, as we’ve seen in 8x04.

J: I told you I don’t want it

D: It doesn’t matter what you want

D: You didn’t want to be King in the North. What happens when they demand you press your claim and take what is mine?

Well, there’s a lot to unpack here. First of all, Jon is telling her he has no interest on the Throne. She can keep it. But Dæny offers two good points: he didn’t want to be KitN and he ended up being one and she’s factoring in the will of the people. I know we joke around saying she lacks self-awareness (it’s not really a joke if it’s true but that’s not the point), but right now, in this moment, she’s self-aware. She’s aware she doesn’t have the support of the people, that her chances of getting the Throne rest on her firepower and the support of the Lords. 8x01, 8x02 and the feast in 8x04 made her and us see that. She does not have the people’s loyalty, nor does she have their love. Who does though? The Starks, namely Jon and Sansa.

J: I’ll refuse. You are my Queen. I don’t know what else I can say.

D: You can say nothing to anyone, ever. Never tell them who you really are. Swear your brother and Samwell Tarly to secrecy and tell no one else

D: Or it will take a life of its own and you won’t be able to control it or what it does to people, no matter how many times you bend the knee, no matter what you swear.

Like I said, this is the first time in a while we’ve seen Dæny this self-aware, in this case, of her fragile grasp on the little power she has. While she asks Jon not to say a word, she’s passionate and vulnerable, a stark contrast to, let’s say, the audiences in 8x01 and 8x02, the war council in 8x02. Even during the reveal in 8x02, she had her “queenly mask”. But not here. Because she’s looking the truth at the face. While asking this of Jon, she’s acknowledging how fragile her power actually is. Because, in a land where people chose who should rule them, she knows she wouldn’t be first choice.

But there’s also another thing. She’s openly rejecting Jon as a Targaryen. For her, the complications of Jon being her nephew are purely political. Jon is a threat to her claim. So, to neutralize the threat, she asks him to keep the truth a secret. To make him consciously live a lie, all so she can get the Throne. And to be fair with Dæny, I get it. I fundamentally disagree with it, but I get it. She’s been on this journey for years. She suffered a lot in order to get where she’s now. And just when the Iron Throne is at the reach of her hand, another contender for the Throne appears. A legitimate Targaryen with a higher claim than hers who is loved and respected by northerners, the wildlings, the Knights of the Vale, and even some of the Lannisters. From her POV, it’s as if everything’s falling apart, just when she’s about to get the one thing she’s been after for so long. After facing many foes, after being abducted, after crossing the Narrow Sea, after losing Viserion, after losing a large part of her armies, after losing Jorah; it turns out she’s not the last Targaryen and she’s not the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. But she’s been isolated for so long, unapproachable, alone in that bubble of hers, all the while she feeded the idea of destiny, of being the princess that was promised, that she has a warped version of reality. So when she finds out Jon is her nephew, her family, she isn’t happy. Instead she sees it as a threat to what she’s set up to do. All of this contrasts the dynamic Jon has with the Starks:

But let’s go back to the Jon-Dæny scene.

D: I want it to be the way it was between us.

J: I have to tell Sansa and Arya.

I’ve given a definition (according to Roland Barthes) of a romantic scene in a previous meta:

In a romantic narrative, the scene is a back-and-forth. The two (they’re always two) argue or exchange remarks and they want to prove to the other that they are the ones on the right. They both seek to have the last word. As this is a back-and-forth, neither of the two is above the other; they’re on the same level, they’re equals, but most importantly, they need each other. It’s a confrontation, but neither of the two will leave the scene or submit to the other; it’s a way for the characters to have pleasure without it being physical: it tortures them, it’s perverse, but they will give into it.

For the scene to work, there must be a bait, something that will get the scene started. The bait can either be a) a fact (one affirms it and the other denies it) or b) a decision (one imposes it and the other rejects it). There is no way the tension in the scene can be resolved, there’s no agreement, simply because what’s being disputed between the two is not a fact or a decision, it’s something that lays outside the scene: it’s subtext. So the scene has no object or loses this object (the reason they’re arguing) very quickly. The scene builds in like a crescendo, what one character says reinforces the opposite idea of the other and so on and on. Silence is a powerful tool. It doesn’t stop a scene, it strengthens it. There are three possible ends to a scene, all external to the scene’s structure:

-both characters are fatigued -a stranger arrives -the aggression changes into desire

At first, one could read this scene as romantic. But it’s not. This scene plays like a reverse romance scene. It starts with desire (the kiss) but it quickly changes to aggression. There’s also the fact that Jon and Dæny are not equals. Jon tells Dæny she’s his Queen twice, one of them while he’s on his knees. She constantly brings up the power inbalance in their relationship (”it doesn’t matter what you want”, ”take what is mine”, “never tell them who you really are”, “no matter how many times you bend the knee”). The scene, instead of working as a back-and-forth, gives the impression of Jon trying his best to reassure Dænerys that what she’s saying that will happen won’t. It looks like the bait is a fact, the matter of Jon’s parentage and its impact, that one is affirming it and the other one is denying it. But Jon’s denial of what Dæny is saying comes from a place of submission. Jon denying what Dæny is affirming is him trying to appease her doubts and fears, nothing else. What’s my basis for saying this? The fact that there is no subtext. The conflict is explicit, it’s part of the text. This is not a romantic scene.

D: Sansa will want to see me gone and you on the Iron Throne.

J: She won’t.

D: She’s not the girl you grew up with. Not after what she’d seen, not after what they’ve done to her.

J: I owe them the truth.

I’ll repeat myself (for the third time). God knows I have my issues with the dialogue in this episode (x) (x), but one of the things D&D manage to do right is to make Dænerys aware of the situation at hand. She’s not been in Winterfell long, but from what she’s seen, Sansa is a respected and loved leader, one that defends her own interests (her fierce allegiance to her House) but that of her people (Northern Independence). Whatever she says, it will be heard and it will be taken into consideration. And for Dæny, that’s a problem, because Sansa and the North’s interests go against her own. And from the little time they’ve spent together, she knows she cannot sway her nor subdue her.

And the fact that she sees only Sansa as the problem goes on to confirm that Dæny sees this conflict as a political one first and a personal one second. She can’t see the deep bond the Starklings have with one another and how they make their decisions as a pack, as a unit, moved by their sense of family.

D: Even if the truth destroys us?

J: It won’t.

D: It will. I’ve never begged for anything... but I’m begging you, don’t do this. Please.

Again, Jon is trying his damn best to appease her doubts and fears. He tries to reassure her that him telling Sansa and Arya won’t be a problem, but Dænerys continues on challenging him. But what’s interesting is that she’s really vulnerable here. She begs him not to tell them. IMO, this is the closest thing we had of them being shown at “a same level”, of them being equals. In this part of the scene, she’s not Dænerys Stomborn, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She’s just a girl begging her boyfriend to keep his mouth shut. But the fact that this is the closest thing we’ve had of them being equals goes on to show how disproportionate the power dynamics are in this relationship.

J: You are my Queen. Nothing will change that. And they’re my family. We can live together.

D: We can. I’ve just told you how.

What I like about this scene (after rewatching it a couple of times and forgetting about that god-awful line) is the fact that Jon himself reinforces the Starks vs. Targaryen conflict. He sees Dænerys as a figure of power/authority and he sees the Starks as his family. This is huge. For all the POV blocking he’s fallen victim to, Jon basically tells the audience that his allegiance is to the Starks, though it’s subtle. This is reinforced by the fact that, after Dæny begged/ordered him to keep his mouth shut, he still makes sure Sansa and Arya find out the truth.

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