#that he is attempting to bend the world around his perceived understanding of the world in an attempt to cope

[dirtytransmasc]

I honestly don't know if anyone else picked up on it since I haven't seen it mentioned, but there's a bit of a generational trauma theme in ATSV, and you see how it divides the characters.

Most of those that side with Miguel (and are aware of the Canon events, since its kinda established that not everyone knew) are those that are older while those that sided with Miles, or at least eventually did, are all younger, mostly teens and young adults.

It kinda shows how the different generations perceive suffering too, where the older generation sees it as necessary or inevitable where younger generations are more prone to pointing out what they see as needless suffering and break the cycle.

What I find a bit hilarious is that Miguel doesn't see the evidence that Canon isn't absolute right in front of him.

Mayday.

this this this.

I think for Miguel specifically, he is trying to justify his suffering, and the problems he causes, by saying suffering is necessary, that all spiders must go through a specific set of traumas. does this justify what he's done? no, but, it definitely explains his actions. older generations are notorious for this, trying to justify what they went through by insisting everyone has to go through it too. at the end of the day it's kinda heartbreaking, for both parties; one perpetuates not only others pain, but their own, the other faces all the consequences.

that's why I need the teens and Miguel to make up, so Miguel can start to heal, so he can let go of this mindset, cause no one should be stuck like that, even if they backed themselves into that hole, for everyone's sake.

my "canon events" theory is that, Miguel is only half correct. a dimension has predetermined events that would happen without some form of higher intervention; whether you know the canon and go out of your way to stop it from happening, meeting someone outside of your canon and having it lead to having a baby that would otherwise not exist, someone being in the wrong universe at the right time allowing you to save 2 people instead of one, etc. for some examples. breaking these events, on top of other things like opening unstable portals or having unstable anomalies in your dimension, stresses your timeline, and enough stress can cause breaks or even collapse. the big but, where I think Miguel is wrong, is that timelines can rewrite themselves, so long as they're given time to heal from the stress and the damages it caused go a dimensions structural integrity. so for example, mayday, a child who should not exist, was born, changing the timeline, but ultimately, the timeline recovered and no harm was done. I believe that Pavitrs dimension would be fine, so long as spots black hole (at least that's what I think thats what was going on in that scene, I've only seen it once, and I got lost on some scenes 😅) is removed, his timeline can heal, and everything will be (mostly, probably) fine. that would allow miles, mile 42s situation, and mayday to exist without breaking their dimensions.

[vasito-de-leche]

I was wondering... I've been reading the self-aware au and I wonder if Manus Vindictae is also aware of the player— How does Forget Me Not even react to the concept of the player too if he's ever self-aware of it? A human who calls the shots on the story progressing (clearing levels) and also the one who beats his ass in battle (i had to insight 2 level 20 my arcanists to beat him under 10 turns in hard mode)

Can he hear the player? Can he see them? (I tend to gush over him whenever he speaks, I repeat the scenes he's in 😭 i miss him sm in the story) sorry for all these questions!!! Im so curious of self-aware aus and how they work and yours particularly was REALLY good

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - Self Aware AU

Headcanons about Forget Me Not within the Self Aware AU.

this is a very good opportunity to think about non-playable characters within the game, actually! ty for the ask o7

there was someone who commented on one of my self-aware posts saying it was kind of like analog horror and I agree lolol

I vaguely remember mentioning that the requirements needed in order to be aware of the Player's existence were to either reach a 100% bond and/or to be exposed to Vertin's constant presence.

Forget Me Not, as an NPC with little to no actual relevant weight in the grand scheme of things (he is only relevant during the 1929 arc as of now) doesn't meet any of these requirements, so I don't think he'd be aware of the player!

His self-awareness is limited to knowing the world around him is fake, which fuels his self-deprecating and self-defeating, deranged, depressing mindset. I like to imagine Forget Me Not doesn't even understand that the world he lives in is a game, he just knows it's fake and that no matter what he does or says, no one will truly remember. Things will inexplicably reset or loop, and even so, he's not aware of the many times he's been forced to battle Vertin and the others because the Player had to grind specific materials. And so on and so forth. In his eyes, the "high power" that could attempt to control this empty world would be Arcana and no one else--after all, she's the one who opened his eyes to the truth through indoctrination.

When it comes to the figure of the Player, I wanted to portray an extremely obscure and detached figure. Vertin herself can't even fully wrap her head around the Player's existence, she doesn't even know if you're human--if the protagonist, the character "closest" to the Player is still left in the dark about these aspects, imagine how it is for other characters who don't have the privilege of acting your will, of being your hands and eyes. Sonetto can't even get a proper look at the Player, she still needs an insane amount of time lingering around Vertin to become more attuned to this somewhat eldritch entity tied to her. Characters of "equal" importance to Vertin, such as Arcana, may be able to perceive the Player in their own unique ways just like her, but everyone else? They need these special cases to even notice such a presence. Vertin is your only link to this world. You're the one looking in, this is a one-way mirror and only a very select few can look into the abyss and realize that something -someone else- is out there, staring back.

Like, of course I'll make exceptions or bend the rules if people request direct interactions between a character and the Player, but if we're talking about the setting as it is, then this is how I picture it.

Can he hear or see the Player? Nope. He doesn't have the means to. He doesn't even know they exist.

Forget Me Not feels superior with his self-awareness, gloating about how he's not like the common rubble who goes on about their day, entirely blind to the horrors. And yet, he's not aware of his limited perception of the world. It's very ironic, the way he looks down on others for the very same crime he's guilty of: obliviousness. Forget Me Not believes everyone outside of Manus Vindictae is too dumb, too unworthy of the freedom that comes with self-awareness. But really, this is just the blind leading the blind at the end of the day. Within Manus Vindictae, we only have Arcana and Forget Me Not as important characters, so it's hard for me to make a proper frame of reference, but overall I think that only Arcana is fully self-aware. Everyone else's perception of reality are equal or slightly inferior to Forget Me Not.

I think this falls in line with his modus operandi, so to speak! The way he believes he truly understands how things are, while turning his back on reality at the same time because he can't take it. He's too delusional, too unstable and frail to acknowledge that he may not be right, that he may be just as lost as when he first opened his eyes, that Vertin, someone so utterly disconnected from his ideals and morals and views, is the "chosen one."

As usual, Forget Me Not prefers to live a lie an double down on his usual habits than realize he always had the chance to change for the better and he just never had the courage to take that road.

How would he react upon finding out the Player's existence and their opinion on him?

I don't know the specifics around how exactly he finds out this piece of information, but either way, Forget Me Not would probably be shaken to his core! This isn't an easy pill to swallow in the slightest. You have to understand that every single time you beat him in battle, he 100% believed it was all Vertin's prowess.

How was he supposed to know she had someone guiding her? How was any of this fair?

Essentially, Forget Me Not has to confront the fact that all of his struggles, all the constant fighting and every conscious choice he's made to further ruin his life, were predetermined, already set in stone by forces beyond his comprehension. It's both freeing and claustrophobic, especially for a character like him who revels in misery and his status as an underdog earning his vengeance. He's done so much, he's worked so hard to get to where he is, and sure, his life is far from ideal, he's still the same self-destructive man, but now you're telling him that this was what the world planned from the very beginning? He had no say in anything? Someone out there decided that he was meant to be like this, and even after gaining self-awareness, he wasn't good or strong enough to break away from the script--in fact, he played right into someone else's trap.

I feel like Forget Me Not, at this point, would continue to do the only thing he knows: he doubles down. He redirects all of his hatred and all of his feelings towards the figure of the Player, if only to justify his existence--he can't live as a free man, he can't be seen as a living being worthy of respect because the plot commands it, he doesn't know where his own conscience begins and where the script and dialogue he's meant to say ends. So he might as well keep digging his own grave.

He loathes the Player more than anything else, because if there was no one to play this game, none of this would've happened in the first place. He fully blames you for every single thing, no matter how big or small. Everything that is wrong with his life can be traced to the person booting up this goddamn game every single day.

And if he learns that you replay each cutscene that he's in, he takes that as an offense.

This is just cruel mockery to Forget Me Not--not only you're the reason he's turned into such a miserable excuse of a man, but now you've turned him into your personal little jester, to sing and dance for your entertainment.

If he finds out that you hate him? That's good, it's a mutual feeling and it makes this tantrum he's throwing much more easier to deal with. But if he finds out that he's your favorite character? It kills him from the inside. How dare you?

His voice gets sharper, more visceral--every word is drenched with such profound hatred that you, from your side of the screen, can't help but think that Forget Me Not's voice actor is doing such a great job! And the artstyle is so good, his expressions look so real!

I can also see Forget Me Not eventually struggle with the fact that the Player loves him and sees him as their favorite character. It's not as easy and straightforward as hating you anymore--he doesn't even know you. He doesn't even know what to trust anymore.

Given how depressing he can be, I think he may latch onto the Player? The rug keeps being pulled from under his feet each and every time, but your existence, as awful and mysterious and controversial as it may be, is real. You're real. I have a lot of thoughts about this specific dynamic, but I'll leave them for another post so this one doesn't end up being suuuper long lol

On the subject of finding out that the Player is a human.

This one is easy! If someone were to tell Forget Me Not that the Player, the bane of his existence, is a human, then he'll just be in denial about it!

I really just like the idea of Forget Me Not having no means whatsoever to interact with the Player, it makes things so much more frustrating for him. Of course this means that everything he does know come from third-parties. And this piece of information is an extra layer of stress that he can't physically process at the same time as everything else in regards to his self-awareness, so he chooses to ignore it. To debate it. To simply deny it.

What, is he just supposed to believe everything he's told about you now? He can't even perceive you properly, let alone understand the sort of creature you are and your influence on this world--for all he knows, the people claiming to see and talk to you are all liars! All of his informants and spies could just be dead wrong, they may have misheard something on the way!

You can't be human, because he can't take another blow to his pride like this. It's humiliating enough to be played like a fiddle in such a way, Forget Me Not doesn't even want to think about the possibility of this small, fake world being at the mercy of a human--part of the very same group that caused him so much pain over the years.

[ace-bi-says-hi]

Predators and Prey

Summary:

When nightmares of your past tormentors keep you both awake, Astarion makes a very appealing offer. Revenge.

"You're not a smart man, are you? You should be begging for mercy. For a quick death. Did you hope to provoke us into gutting you?" He grabbed your father by the hair, tilting his head painfully, "Maybe you hoped I'd rip your throat out. Unfortunately for you, I have standards."

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Horror??? I guess???

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x GN!Tav (also not specified race)

Warnings: Swearing, blood, gore, graphic torture, talk of past child abuse, allusion to attempted incest. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THESE SUBJECTS HAVE THE POTENTIAL TO TRIGGER YOU. Also please let me know if I have missed anything, I am only human.

Word Count: 3315

There were some days where Astarion couldn't rest, where the memories of Cazador still tormented his dreams. Where peace wouldn't find him in meditation. On those days, he watched you slumber. Despite not having his affliction, you had altered your sleeping habits so you could spend the nights together since he could not stand the sun any longer. 

It seemed to be a restless night for you too as he watched you toss and turn. There was the odd whimper or sob here and there, sounds he knew too well. Those were the sounds of someone who had been on the receiving end of purposeful violence. His brows drew together in concern. He had his suspicions of course, you had your own scars but so old and faint no mortal eye could perceive them, like the one that stretched across your palm diagonally. It would've been discourteous of him to let your nightmares keep their grip on you.

He placed a hand on your shoulder and shook you softly, "Wake up, love. Whatever it is, it can't hurt you now."

You woke with a start, breathing laboured as you flinched away from the gentle hand. You visibly grimaced when you saw those damned puppy dog eyes of his. You knew you had some explaining to do. You sat up on your shared bed, staring down at your shaky hands resting in your lap. 

"I'm sorry, I must have disturbed your beauty sleep." You were trying to deflect.

But he wasn't having that, "Don't be ridiculous. I couldn't sleep anyway... I..." He paused considering his words carefully, "You know I won't pressure you into telling me what's troubling you. I can wait for you to tell me in your own time. After all, I have all the time in the world. Its just... I feel you've done so much to understand and help those around you but I... don't really know about your life before saving the world and all that. If this is something I can help you with darling, I'm all pointy ears for you."

You couldn't help but chuckle at that last bit. He always knew how to make you smile. You twiddled your thumbs as you considered telling him, you may as well at this point yeah? Get it out in the open and off your chest.

"For you, it was Cazador the man who gave you unlife. For me," you took a steadying breath, "it was my own father. He was a cruel man. Unhappy with the hand life dealt him, he took it out on his family. I... lost count of the injuries I received from him. Lost a few memories too. But those I do remember... they still hurt from time to time. He... he broke my ribs once. I remember feeling them bend, hearing them crack and the wind escaping me as pain stabbed through me. My mother just stood on the sidelines and did nothing." You shuddered fighting back tears, "For the longest time I was afraid of people touching me. I would react with violence. Hit, punch, kick, bite. You name it and I probably did it. And his attacks weren't just physical, no, he knew how to play mind games too. One day he'd call me a mistake, that I was never meant to be born. Then the next... he would tell me no one would ever love me but him. Would convince me that everyone hated me. That I was the lowest of the low. I had no one to turn to. Absolutely no one. But one day, my mum finally got her arse in gear and chased him out with the help of my grandfather. She had noticed his attention towards me had started turning incestuous. " You spat out the word. "You'd think that would've rid me of him but no, until I ventured away from the town I was born in, that bastard would stalk me. Keeping up the fucking mind games. That... disgusting man was- is the reason I was so ready to help you be rid of Cazador. And why I understood when you said you wanted to be seen outside the terms of sex. You could say I was living vicariously through you."

Astarion had been silent throughout your story. You finally looked up from your hands to gauge his reaction. And my what a reaction. His face was a vision of murderous intent you had only seen a few times before in your time together. You were half worried that he might chip his fangs with how tightly his jaw was clenched. It almost felt like his eyes were burning into you.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, there just wasn't a good opportunity to with the end of the world-"

He held up a hand, "I don't want to hear apologies, not from you. Not unless you've stained my clothes or dropped another building on top of me. No." His voice became laced with a low growl, "What I want is a name and the town. What I want is to rip his guts out and choke him with them as you watch the life leave his eyes. Name it and I'll do it. It's the least I can do after you helped me." He paused, then laughed humorlessly as he seemed to realise something, "I'm glad we didn't meet sooner, love, really. If we had, you would've been my perfect victim thanks to that man."

He wasn't wrong there, all it would have taken was just the tracest amount of affection to have you wrapped around his finger. Unfortunately for you, that had happened just with someone else. But that could wait, you didn't want to bombard Astarion with your life's woes. You took a moment to consider his proposal. You had been patiently waiting for your father's death so you could dance on his grave. However, despite his lifestyle, death did not seem to be in a hurry to claim him and frankly you were tired of the paranoia his continued existence brought you. 

"I don't even want to say his name. I can take you to his house though, lure him outside... I want to empty his veins so that we no longer share the same blood."

Astarion squinted at you, "I hope that's not the reason you've been letting me drink from you this entire time." 

You hesitated, "To start with yes. I mean it was a good thing for both of us. You got your strength up and I got to feel less tainted. A win-win. And then I grew to truly care for you and your wellbeing so it became less about me and more about making sure you were happy."

Astarion looked skyward with a sigh of frustration, "You, my love, need to stop people pleasing. Don't force yourself to do something just because it'll make me happy."

"Tell that to the puppy dog eyes you give me whenever you ask. In all seriousness, I don't hate it. I'm not forcing myself. In fact I-" You cut yourself off as you began to flush.

Astarion raised a perfect brow and gave you that damned smirk of his, "Well maybe after we've dealt with your father, you'll let me indulge in you as a reward, Darling."

This man gave you emotional whiplash sometimes.

--‐---------------------------------------------------------------

It was a few nights' journey to get to your hometown, finding suitable places to sleep during the day when out in the wilderness hadn't helped either. But you made it. An odd feeling settled in your stomach when you stepped foot across the town boundaries, you hadn't been back in so long. It looked the same yet different in a way that was uncanny. Old haunts had disappeared to be replaced with unfamiliar store fronts. Though the necessities stayed the same like the messenger service. 

You passed through streets guided by hazy memories with Astarion close to your side for now, a comforting presence. As every step took you closer, your heart crept further into your throat. Never had you thought you'd see your father again. Let alone willingly. You had not long realised you'd finally forgotten how his voice sounded and now it was about to be rebranded into your memory. As your destination grew closer, you gave Astarion a nod signalling to him to get into position. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, hand hovering, ready to knock. This was really about to happen. This was the first step of being free of him. You quickly shook out your limbs as if to shake away any doubts or hesitation that wished to settle. With renewed determination, your fist rattled off an old pattern of knocks you remembered your father having done when you were a child. You stepped back as you heard movement inside the abode. And you took another step back as the man who haunted your sleep opened the door. He looked older now, much older. He had only just started greying when you were young, now most of his hair had turned that colour. His face now had deep set wrinkles, time had not been kind to him. And even from where you stood, you could smell the smoke of tobacco that clung to him heavily even when you were a child.

"Well well well, what brings you here? I thought I remember you telling me you would have no more contact with me. Let me guess, you've fallen on hard times? Failed at something as simple as earning a basic income? Not lived up to your own illusions of grandeur? Which is it?" He sneered.

You had not missed how he belittled you, thought you incapable of anything. You steadied yourself, mentally preparing the lie you concocted to draw him out. 

"No, nothing of the sort. In fact, I've done quite well for myself. I've settled down. Started a family." You purposely let the statement hang in the air.

He crossed his arms, "So you've come to declare that you'll be a better parent than I ever was."

If you had actually started a family, maybe you would have done this. Rubbed your happiness in his face. But alas, you had fallen for a member of the undead. Children weren't really on the cards for you.

"No, not at all... We're staying at a local tavern as I've come to visit all the family. I thought it would be cruel to deprave my child of their grandfather. Mum returned home not long ago so now it's your turn to meet my firstborn."

You watched his face morph from confusion to his typical smug grin, "I knew you'd see sense some day. I made you after all. Well go on, lead the way." 

It went against your instincts to turn your back to him, but you knew Astarion would act quicker than your father ever could. In fact, he must have only just stepped out of his door when you heard his surprised yell. You turned back towards him. Astarion had him pinned to the ground, one hand covering your father's mouth, the other holding a familiar dagger to his throat. 

"Not one sound. It'd be a shame to kill you before we have our fun. Nod if you understand." The ageing man nodded frantically. "Good. Well goodnight for now."

With that Astarion struck him with the pommel of his dagger.

--‐---------------------------------------------------------------

Astarion insisted you save your energy with the night's main event, so he did most of the heavy lifting. That didn't mean he didn't complain as he hoisted the unconscious man up by his ankles in the cave you had found. He wasn't complaining about you but to you.

"If there's one thing I can assure you of right now Darling, it's that his blood smells foul. Nothing like your lovely bouquet." He scrunched up his nose. "He's rotten inside in more ways than one. I'd say he'd have one foot in the grave the year after next."

That did bring you some sense of relief oddly. You concentrated on sorting through the equipment you bought with you. It was time to wake him up. Astarion grabbed a bucket of water and tossed its contents onto the upside down hanging man. He woke with a gasp and looked around. His eyes landed on you, where you were still calmly organising your tools.

"What the fuck is going on?! Let me do-"

"Do you know how many times I've pictured this moment? Mum used to ask what I would do to you if I ever had the opportunity and I had so many ideas over the years. So so many. Burning you alive. Drowning you by filling your lungs with water. Slitting your throat. All too quick when I truly thought about it. But here's the thing... my siblings and I workshopped ideas for the slowest death we could give you."

If his blood wasn't pooling in his skull your father surely would've turned paler than Astarion. 

Said vampire watched with an amused grin, approval in his eyes, "My my. I didn't know you had such a sadistic side, love."

"My favourite was my brother's idea to butcher you like the animal you are. So first, I think I'll have you tenderised to make it a little easier for me."

Astarion approached your father, adjusting his gloves before delivering a swift strike to his stomach. The sound of the impact, your father's pained cry and Astarion's satisfied smirk let you know that the vampire wasn't going to hold back.

"Should I break his ribs? I think he should know how you felt."

You took a moment to consider it, "Sure. Just don't go overboard, don't want him dying before I even get to start."

Another blow, this time a kick, was made to his chest. The cracking echoed throughout the cave and your father gasped for air, winded. You shuddered as the memories of your own injury resurfaced and a twinge shot though you. Astarion stepped back, letting the pain sink in. His hair had gotten a little unruly so he pushed it back. He was enjoying this. Maybe this was his time to live vicariously through you, after all, Cazador's demise had been quick in comparison. And then he was going back in, landing hit after hit on the defenceless man. You'd let him have his fun. 

You turned your attention to the fire you had set up, you were deep enough into the cave that the moonlight didn't reach you. You crouched down, chucking more wood on it before checking on the dagger you had lodged in it to heat up. It wouldn't do if your father bled to death before you could finish. This was the main task you had given Astarion, cauterising the wounds you would inflict. The blade was a brilliant orange, it was ready.

Astarion stopped, satisfied, "There you go love. All softened up for you."

Your father spat blood at Astarion's boots, "Of course that child would fall for a vampire," he laughed dryly followed immediately by a groan of pain, "they're nothing but a parasitic leech anyway. What else could possibly love them?"

You grabbed the boning knife from your selection, ready to begin. You'd had enough. However, Astarion had never taken kindly to those who name called you, like when Cazador called you cattle and it sent him into a frenzy. Astarion growled and crouched low so he was eye level with your father. 

"You're not a smart man are you? You should be begging for mercy. For a quick death. Did you hope to provoke us into gutting you?" He grabbed your father by the hair, tilting his head painfully, "Maybe you hoped I'd rip your throat out. Unfortunately for you, I have standards. However, you don't need both eyes to witness your last moments do you? We just need you to have at least one." 

Astarion jammed a thumb into one of your father's eyes. Your father wailed in agony and you knew his eyeball popping, its jelly dripping out of the socket mixed with blood, would be seared into your memory. Astarion stood back up, casually wiping his hand on your father as he did so. 

"I'm ready when you are, love. I'm tired of this pig's prattle."

You cut open your father's shirt, "My earliest memory is of your cruelty. I've been told that's it's a miracle that I didn't turn out like you as  you treated me like how your father treated you. And that's because I've lived to spite you. I have tried so hard to fix the damage you left in your wake. I've built a life away from you where I am loved and cared for. I am heralded as a hero yet you haunt me still." 

You walked behind him and cut the obstructing material away. You slowly sunk your knife into his shoulder blade, only stopping when you met bone. And with little sawing motions you began to separate flesh from bone. Blood welled up out the incision and painted his back. Part of you wanted to gag as you cut away, you had always been a little squeamish. With a quick flick, you pulled your knife free, along with a small chuck of skin and muscle. Astarion was there immediately with the heated blade, staunching the blood flow. The smell of burning meat assaulted your nose. Sweat beaded in your hair line as a wave of nausea hit you. This was going to be a long night but you swore to yourself you wouldn't stop. 

--‐---------------------------------------------------------------

As you continued there were times where you had to rush away to empty your stomach. In those moments, Astarion would stroke your back while whispering words of encouragement and comfort. He even offered to take over if you needed a break but you declined. You would see this through. 

You had managed to cut away as much as you could without hitting anywhere vital and your father now resembled the inverse of a pig prepped for butchering. His stomach and head was left intact (save his tongue) while everywhere else had been peeled away messily. Little muscle clung to his bone now. Your stash of Lesser Restoration scrolls came in quite useful as your father lost consciousness many times throughout the night. But his time was coming to an end. You had split so much of his blood and dawn was fast approaching. And so you sat in front of him, staring into his remaining eye. 

"I have always cursed that your blood runs through my veins. I have always cursed that I inherited any of your appearance. But today I will remedy both. We no longer look remotely alike. And now... I just need to make this blood my own."

Your father just regarded you lifeless, as you lent forward and finally slit his throat.

Astarion placed a gentle gloveless hand on your shoulder, "Let's go home, treasure, you need to rest."

You got to your feet but your knees were weak, you collapsed into his arms, "I'm so tired. So... empty. This is how you felt, isn't it? I... yeah let's go."

He ran his fingers through your hair and placed a soft kiss to your forehead, "The past is dead now, and from that, you can strive to fill your future with life. The emptiness shall pass." He draped one of your arms aroundnhis shoulders and helped you to stumble your way out of the cave's depths. The last of the moon's light felt like a blessing after the hours spent by firelight. "And love, trust me when I say his blood was never yours, if it was I would have never given you a little nibble." 

You huffed out a laugh and finally, a small smile graced your lips.

[fyeahiwatarikei]

Rose pink + Kosuke :>

Flower Language Writing Prompts

Pink rose ◦ I finally stopped holding my breath.

You can also read this on AO3!

“Don’t be surprised!”

Kosuke’s questioning sound choked in his throat when he saw Kei’s pyjama top fly across the corridor, but that didn’t stop the latter from removing the pants too, tossing it towards the couch as he entered the living room. After long hours of reflection, he had finally decided to give it a try, the sooner the better.

“May I ask what you’re doing?” Kosuke politely asked, poking his head around the corner to try and see why he was sitting in the middle of the room wearing nothing but his underwear.

Kei crossed his legs, placed hands on knees and… took a deep breath. He hadn’t attempted that in a few centuries, who knew how his body would react after the damage it had suffered from recently. He needed to be serene, in control, attuned to every sign he’d perceive from both flesh and wood, in case any problem arose.

“I’ll retreat within and verify the state my heart is in. I’m asking you to not disturb me, regardless of what happens.”

“And what exactly should happen?”

“Nothing dangerous,” Kei smiled. Supposedly nothing dangerous. “But this exercise requires focus and time, as it will be thorough.”

“Won’t you get cold…?”

Kosuke kneeled in front of him from a respectful distance, understanding the seriousness of the situation. If he knew from experience that Kei would make himself vulnerable both physically and spiritually, he couldn’t guess the reason why wearing clothes wasn’t recommended. Elm Root was not entirely similar to the Black Wings, for better or for worse.

“No matter how long it takes, no matter what happens, you have to trust me fully, Kosuke. However, just in case: if I don’t wake up in 3 days, try keeping me hydrated.”

A nod, where worry clearly showed served as response. It wasn’t supposed to take this long, but this man looked lovely when kept on his toes. It wouldn’t make a bad last vision, in case the examination went horribly wrong.

Eyes shut, another long breath went in, then out, and he let his neck naturally bend forward. The centre of his being dwelled in the chest, as it was common for most artworks with a human appearance, turning it into the area they’d always protect. Elm Root was not as easy to reach: tearing his chest open would not have revealed an ancient item nor turned him to stone, instead, he had to look beyond flesh, blood, bones, deep within the magic that allowed him to function, to perceive his own core.

Consciousness withdrew from the outside world, where skin was uncomfortably hardening into wood, roots growing without the control of intention. Slowly, he’d lose his senses, human abilities swallowed by the cane, turned into a messy statue of sorts. For a second, he thought about the first person who had seen him like this, more than 400 years prior; for another, he thought about the man he loved, who would witness this most secret state.

No shame arose, for the same reason he was attempting this little experiment: Kosuke welcomed him fully and had said he loved him back. With this, however, came the haunting question: Elm Root hadn’t been destroyed, why not?

The key to finding out rested within; under the careful eye of his consciousness, the cane took shape, revealing its edges, its texture, its light. Much to his surprise, as the image of sorts got clearer, the devastated state he had sensed revealed itself to be beyond his worst prognosis. The wood had cracked, separating the piece into numerous fragments that only magic held together. The flow of power itself seemed different, in the slow, careful stream that missed the strength that usually agitated it. Weakened magic was healing, caressing the artwork to bring it back together, solidifying the fractures as it could, with quiet, attentive care.

It soon became clear that more than the structure had been affected: despite this disaster, a crucial element was clearly missing. Focus hardened, embracing the artwork in its entirety, revealing every single familiar detail, pursuing the specific sensation of constraint… in vain.

Shock brought him to his senses faster than he’d have wanted, and the perception of his numb, callous skin joined the emotions that swirled within. When Kosuke had affirmed his love… he hadn’t lied. Or, at least, Kei had lost the evidence that he had lied.

“The curse…” he said in a whisper, stiff flesh still struggling to respond. “It’s gone.”

A concerned Kosuke, who had waited all this time in front of him, rushed to place a hand on his shoulder, and Kei let himself collapse against him despite the roots taking their time to disappear. They painlessly bent; Kosuke didn’t flinch. He didn’t know what he felt. He didn’t know what to think. It was impossible. He had never lived without…

“I thought…” Kosuke started, arms closing around him “I thought that the Black Wings’ energy had passed through you when it became whole again…”

“Can this cure…?” He paused, at loss of words.

“I don’t know, but both Satoshi and Daisuke’s curses were brought to an end this day.”

It was absolutely impossible and made as much sense as the reason why Elm Root had received such a punishment in the first place.

“The cane is shattered,” Kei felt obligated to add, trying to concentrate on the steady support Kosuke’s shoulder provided instead of the confusion that clouded his thoughts.

“Can it be fixed…?”

Silence. Could it? Kei had never allowed damage on his inner structure, thus had never required maintenance before. If anyone, a Hikari could have fixed him… But…

“Perhaps Satoshi…”

“What are you saying?” Contact broke between them, Kei’s gaze now looking for his clothes. He wasn’t used to not wearing glasses for this long… “Requiring Satoshi’s assistance for this would be more than inopportune.”

“He would do it, if you asked…”

Would he? Their paths still hadn’t met since that unfinished discussion in front of the Black Wings and Kosuke was honestly suggesting asking for such a crucial favour? How blind could a man be? Satoshi knew enough to want to destroy him at the first occasion and not enough to keep him alive to satiate his curiosity: even if Kei’s purpose had already been accomplished, he wasn’t as determined to let this Hikari end his life anymore.

The pyjama and his glasses found their places, bringing some warmth and comfort back to a skin still sore from before. He needed tea…

 “You haven’t talked to him…?”

Kei’s sigh disappeared under the sound of the activated kettle. As endearing as Kosuke could be, his incorrigible naivety could become unsettling. In what world could someone like Kei let his centuries-old guard down in front of someone actively resenting him? He would never allow any Hikari near the source of his life again. In the worst-case scenario, Satoshi could even decide to modify him… He didn’t even want to think about it.

“I’ve had an idea. You and me, going somewhere on a trip…”

“I’ve never left Azumano, you know?”

“It could be in Japan, if you prefer.” Prudence permeated Kosuke’s voice. He wasn’t going to suggest that, was he? “Kyoto, or Hokkaido, for a change of scenery. Besides…”

Boiling water drowned the leaves in a cloudy mess, once, then twice. When Kei handed him a cup in a peremptory gesture, the other directed his brown eyes down, obviously invocating inspiration from the swirls of scented steam. The light coming from the window, behind him, already indicated noon…

“Daisuke and Satoshi could appreciate the experience as well.”

“I can guarantee you that Satoshi will refuse. I’m obviously not going to remind you of his introverted side.”

“We can try.”

They stood by the kitchen’s door, cup in hand, unease visible. Was the disappearance of a lifelong burden a worthy reason to abandon everything that grounded his life? Kosuke’s feelings were already so outlandish he had needed to check his own structure to conceptualise them as a reality, could he imagine an alternative to the truth? Was he even allowed to?

“He will refuse.”

“Well, even if that happens… Daisuke could appreciate the idea, right?”

Ugh. Was this even preferable? Why couldn’t they stay here, just the two of them, eating at their favourite places or finding new ones to try out? Kei could probably return to his position as police commissioner and thoroughly eradicate whoever was trying to steal his job at this moment! They wouldn’t have to worry about anything.

On one hand, climbing merciless ladders while avoiding dangerous connections with humans. On the other, leaving town for foreign lands and having a heart-to-heart with his own son. The first one shouldn’t have been the most appealing…

“If you don’t mind,” Kosuke resumed, “Let’s go have lunch for now.”

“Will Satoshi be there, somehow?”

The man let out a brief laugh and retrieved both half-full cup of tea to place them in the sink under Kei’s careful watch. The latter observed the way he moved, slow and steady, the quiet peace of his traits, his eternally messy hair, the long, alluring fingers on porcelain.

“Do you want him to be?”

“Why would I want my son to be present during a romantic date? Are you planning on making him witness all the sweet nothings you’ll whisper in my ear as you’re passing the sauce?”

The very unclear yet irrefutably confused response reached him as he was walking away to get dressed up. He didn’t need Niwa Kosuke to be on his side as existence threw hardships, discord, destruction, death at him – to be completely honest, he had done perfectly fine without him. He didn’t need this uncertain individual, with his broken moral compass, his complete inability to put on a suit properly, this desperate desire to do the right thing, even uncalled for, even ill-advised. Kei had especially never wanted to leave Azumano and find himself trapped into telling the entirety of a family saga to a Satoshi who’d stare at him while sharpening a chisel.

And he would choose Kosuke at every step of the way. Perhaps a new curse had come under the new, pleasant shape of a single man and his boundless hope.

Part 1 ◦ Part 2 ◦ Part 3 ◦ Part 4

[flickeringart]

Neptune in aspect with Mars

(Read my post about Sun and Moon aspecting Neptune and Mercury and Venus aspecting Neptune)

These planets aspecting each other makes for a curious connection, because in a sense, they represent opposing principles; Mars represents the personal drive and the ability to spring to action, the force that works to impose one’s independent will on the world – Neptune represents the inner urge for emotional unity and the religious/spiritual experience of being merged with the source of life. When these planets are in aspect in the natal chart, the personal ability to carry out one’s will is inextricably linked to redemptive longings. Simply put, Mars-Neptune individuals will put their energy into fulfilling the ego ideal, the perfection of potential that existed before the personality began to form. The personality cannot assert itself in a way that would crush the dream of perfection. Neptune is the dream of purity, the undifferentiated beauty of never having left the garden of Eden. Mars on the other hand is the agent of independence and self-motivated action – he has the purpose of fighting for the individual self which is antithetical to the Neptunian principle of surrender. While the Moon and Venus are quite social; the Moon represents nurturing and care-taking of needs, Venus represents the ability to be loving, affectionate and gracious; Mars is selfish and to a certain extent anti-social – most definitely anti-Eden and its eternal bliss. Subsequently, Neptune paired with Venus or the Moon is a little less of an obvious conflict than Neptune paired with Mars.

The conjunction of Neptune-Mars might cause considerable frustration and unconscious manipulation, because one cannot assert oneself, which is to declare separation, without feeling a deep sense of guilt and shame. It’s a little bit like the Bible story of Adam and Eve eating of the forbidden fruit and immediately becomes aware of sin. This is certainly not an easy phenomenon to deal with. The impulse to avoid accountability for one’s actions can be overwhelming, even if the consequences are perceived to be good. There can be a tremendously inflated sense of righteousness accompanying every move the individual takes because deep down there’s the feeling that one has committed a terrible trespass, that one will be unable to atone for. While the softer aspects, the trine and the sextile, more easily lend themselves to genuine selfless acts and natural inclination to fight on behalf of every bleeding heart and soul in the world through acts of sympathy and kindness, the conjunction usually brings more troubles. There can be an overwhelming feeling of having to do certain things because one cannot stand the idea of being separate from other people. One finds it easy to identify as the martyr or victim, unwilling to take radical responsibility for one’s actions – or if one does it’s in order to self-sacrifice. Often the individual will adopt any ideology that promotes the mass before the individual – often socialism or marxism fits the bill. Neptune is symbolic of undifferentiated reality, blurred edges and passive surrender. It’s not a planet that promotes autonomy and individuation. Not uncommonly, decisions and actions are referred to as byproducts of societal or larger-scale units that have little to do with the poor self. These individuals are usually profoundly dissatisfied with the ways of society because on some level they believe that individual autonomy and agency is a sin – and that the only way to redeem oneself and humanity is through some kind of chaotic dissolution of difference. This urge is seldom conscious, but it is there none the less. Vladimir Lenin had this conjunction and he wanted to revolutionize society to fit the marxist ideology, but really what this means is to overthrow the upper class – to punish those that seem to revel in the delights of Eden, to get rid of the internal shame of being excluded from paradise.

It seems like Neptune-Mars shows up in individuals with the capacity to move a crowd, perhaps most importantly, with the capacity to be the front figure and leader of the masses. Vladimir Lenin certainly affected the masses and so did Napoleon I with the same conjunction. Hassan II of Morocco, known to be one of the most severe rulers widely accused of authoritarian practices and abuses of civil rights had this conjunction as well. These examples are far removed from Neptune’s reputation for denoting empathy, soft-heartedness and sensitivity. However, it might be precisely because of the refusal to abandon the hope of the sweet sweet nectar of paradise that can only truly be accessed in a state of pre-birth if even then, that the outrage is so total. Most children scream when they are born, and this is probably the kind of terrible rage caused by separation that lingers in these people. The sign the conjunction falls in will certainly affect the expression the energies filter through – Lenin had the conjunction in Aries, Hassan had it in Leo and Napoleon had it in Virgo. Virgo is a much more analytical and practical sign than the prideful fire signs of Aries and Leo – consequently Napoleon is famous for his fine skill for method and strategy in war. On his Wikipedia page, it states that Napoleon had a hypnotic effect on people and could bend the strongest leaders to his will in one-on-one conversations. Hypnosis is a marked Neptunian phenomenon. What happens is that the person is able to gently infiltrate the other person’s will – which is quite extraordinary. If someone is receptive and open enough to suggestion, the opportunity and the invitation is there to mold the other through unconscious communion. Since there’s no obvious forcing taking place under hypnosis, the hypnotized person must cooperate on some level – yet it’s not a conscious cooperation which is why the whole phenomena of hypnosis is so unnerving. In general, people would like to think that they are in complete control of themselves, but it’s more of a fancy fantasy rather than an actual reality. We don’t know what we are receptive to and Neptune reminds us of this. He seeps through the most tightly shut doors.

(Buy products with my art)

My own family is quite Neptune dominated and what often happens is that I feel subtly manipulated, yet the manipulation is never fully conscious on the part of the individuals so it becomes difficult to confront them. The times I have, they either take offense or seem genuinely perplexed. It is impossible to confront Neptune, because he works underneath the surface, below the threshold of consciousness. When confronted these types are deeply disturbed that they could’ve imposed something on someone – they either go into a introspective mood, become appalled or proclaim their love and sympathy in an attempt to restore union. My mother has Mars in the 12th house and although it’s not aspecting Neptune, Mars is placed in the house pertaining to this planet and she has Neptune in her 1st house. She never gets angry but people around her certainly do. She is eternally understanding of everyone else’s anger and has acceptance for it, yet she doesn’t respond to any of it on a personal level. She apologizes every time something upsets her. She is never aggressive, yet she does instill subtle guilt through little cues and hints every now and then because it is a sin to have a will that does not align with the crowd that one finds oneself in. Sometimes, when things aren’t the way she wants to see them she doesn’t see them. She presumes that on the most basic level, all people want the same thing, which is probably true on a “soul level”, but sometimes it doesn’t translate to everyday matters. People’s personalities contradict each other and this is no trivial matter – people can and do clash because of individual differences and it can be detrimental to one or all of the individuals involved. However, Neptune doesn’t like to see a clash as a clash – that would be to treat it as a definite fact, which would contradict the fluidity of oceanic union. The frustratingly passive statement “It’s everyone’s fault” or “It’s everyone’s responsibility” is the attempt to not deal with cause and effect while establishing the fact that some abstract common force is always at work. This is neither true nor false but this attitude conveniently keeps everyone “unified” and dependent upon each other.

Admittedly I went with the most gruesome examples when writing about the conjunction, but it goes without saying that not all people with this aspect is going to be a Lenin type – Ryan Gosling, Avril Lavinge and Timothé Chalamet all have this conjunction and they’re all quite popular entertainers in their own ways – they move the masses on some level. Ryan Gosling has a Pisces Rising so his chart ruler is Neptune which makes it particularly strong. He gives off that pure hearted watery eyed look that is extremely mesmerizing to the public – he portrays himself as sweet and compassionate, he seems to have a marked innocence and purity to his outward projected identity. Avril Lavinge has her Sun-Mercury in the 12th house squaring her Neptune-Mars conjunction in the 3rd. She has more of an edge to her personality with a lot of planets in Scorpio but she certainly comes off as a chaotic, intense and absent-minded creative which I would attribute more to Neptune. Her strong rebellious “I don’t care” statements through her music resonates with a lot of people, but so does her more sentimental songs. Timothe´ Chalamet has his Moon in Pisces sextile Mars-Mercury-Neptune and he is quite the stereotypical Neptunian boy – he looks delicate, introspective, dreamy and androgynous, more like an ethereal creature than an earth-bound human. With the conjunction in the 5th house there’s no wonder that he can act and express himself in a very fluid way. Acting and performing musically are the specialities of the Neptune, and if enough components in the chart support the endeavor one might just become famous. The trine and sextile aspect also lend themselves well to these kind of occupations. These people can effectively gain the sympathy of the public because people recognize something of themselves – something pure and unborn, a mutual feeling.

A good example of someone with the trine aspect between Neptune and Mars is Russel Brand. He is quite the Neptunian with an angular 10th house Neptune opposing his Sun and trining his Jupiter-Mars-Moon planets in Aries. Even though he certainly has the fire and energy of an Aries Mars that can sometimes be a bit too much for people he is not only fighting for himself he is fighting for all people. In many ways he’s embodying  universal hope and rage. He is fiery but also very receptive and deeply concerned with not causing any damage or hurt despite his characteristic blunt and direct approach. He has a marked religious/spiritual inclination, which is usually the case with a strong Neptune in the chart. In his early years the longing for Eden was sought through drugs, alcohol and fame, while it has now shifted to a more healthy inner exploration and focus on being of service to people. The soft aspects between Neptune and Mars-Moon-Jupiter planets in his chart helps him to cope with the disturbing Sun-Neptune opposition. In recent interviews, he admits that he still feels the pull of fame and success, yet he knows that if he goes down that path he will lose himself (his Sun) and will ultimately end up disillusioned and dissatisfied. I have the trine in my own chart, and I float aimlessly through life with the notion that things will work out and my actions will come to me, because I can’t plan or control anything. I have learnt that I have to trust the way things unfold, because I have a clear sense that my forced actions won’t lead me anywhere except to frustration and a sense of isolation. The sextile aspect seems to function a little bit more as an asset and a skill for the person to use. Politicians like Hillary Clinton, Angela Merkel and Francois Hollande all have this aspect and they can effectively use their receptivity to the masses and people in general to inform their actions.

Now to the harder aspects. Britney Spears is a good example of the dilemmas created by the Neptune-Mars square. Her Neptune squares Mars in the 12th house, the house belonging to Neptune and Pisces. Because of mental instability in her twenties she was put under a conservatorship which is essentially the equivalent of giving up personal control of one’s personal matters in order for an outside source to manage them until one gains some foothold. Mars is one of the prime factors of personal ambition and autonomy, but when it’s in the 12th it is given up – it is essentially a slave to the undifferentiated realm and subjected all the forces of the unconscious. A 12th house Mars in itself doesn’t have to produce the mess that Britney found herself in, but with it squaring Neptune, Mars is going to get swamped, mislead, confused, manipulated and subtly coerced because of the need for fusion, into doing things that will pull her further away from independent action. Another good example is Kylie Jenner. She has Neptune in her 1st house squaring Mars on the MC. She is publicly known for being part of the Kardashian-Jenner family, but she’s also gained attention because she skillfully created her own brand Kylie Cosmetics and became very “successful” (as in earning a lot of money) due to her own independent action and initiative. However, Neptune is anti-independence – and curiously enough there’s always some dishonesty involved when Neptune makes any hard aspects in the chart. She was declared the youngest self-made billionaire by Forbes in 2019, but, she has later been accused of forging tax documents to appear to be a billionaire. Neptune simply can’t let her be all that her Mars wants to be – a successful business woman with a clean record. Self-sabotage is almost always the case, however minor with this aspect, because Neptune refuses Mars’ need to be potent in the world.

The opposition creates a different dynamic although the dilemma is similar to the square. The person can be called to completely abandon an independent will to take action in favor of the glamour and blissful archetypal experience, not unlike the example of Russel Brand and his indulgence in fame and crowd-pleasing at the expense of his sense of self. The difference between having Sun opposing Neptune and Mars opposing Neptune is that in the first instance one is prone to give up a sense of self in favor of Neptune’s waters, while in the second, one feels the urge to give up the ability to direct one’s own life in order to merge with life around oneself. The opposition usually lends itself to extremism because the two polarities, in this case Mars and Neptune, can’t coexist. Queen Elizabeth II has this aspect, Mars-Jupiter in the 1st opposing Neptune in the 7th. She is on the one hand seen as an archetypal figure, immortal and divine and blissfully kept out of the real world in order to serve as a symbol and a fairytale for people to feel spiritually connected to. She’s non-aggressive, forgiving and compassionate, transcendent of the fuss of the world yet overseeing it all with care. She is essentially functioning to satisfy the religious/spiritual instinct of the masses, although it’s certainly done at the expense of her own selfish wants and needs. Luckily for her, her Mars drive is quite global and collective in nature considering that it falls in Aquarius and is conjunct Jupiter – it keeps her objective and less personal in her martial assertion. However, I’m sure she struggles with the contradiction between her own will and her role as an immortal unreality that would seem to activate itself in the interaction with other people (Neptune in the 7th). Edward Snowden also has this opposition falling in the same houses. His Mars-Sun conjunction opposes Neptune, and he famously leaked information about mass surveillance programs to the press. Neptune has everything to do with leaks and the dissolution of boundaries. He’s both been called a hero a traitor – which perfectly fits with the contradiction that the opposition represents. He certainly made a personal sacrifice by revealing the things he did so he is perfectly shouldering the martyr cape. In any case he did what he did for the public with the concern of other people in mind (Neptune 7th house) he took a non-selfish stance for the sake of a higher ideal and ethical conviction. Both Queen Elizabeth and Edward Snowden are quite extreme in their Neptunian capacity and has taken on fates of mythic magnitude.

[shihalyfie]

A guide to the 02 kids’ personalities and overall demeanors

I’ve already covered the deeper details of each 02 kid’s character arc and development throughout the series, but I figured I might dedicate a more specific post about the complexities of their outer personalities, and their behavior patterns on a day-to-day basis. 02 is the kind of series that doesn’t really spell out what the characters tend to do or don’t tend to do, or what boundaries they will and won’t cross, which means it can be a bit of a challenging task to track their behavior over fifty episodes and figure out the patterns. Fortunately, these characters are written remarkably consistently over said episodes, so we have a lot to work with!

Disclaimer before we continue: In general, all of my 02-based meta is specifically written for the Japanese version in mind, but this especially applies to this one, because the majority of the nuances of the demeanor and personality traits described below were not retained in the American English dub at all (please see this post for more detail). As a result, please understand that if you’re working from the perspective of having only seen that dub, and the contents of the below post sound completely different, that would be why.

Daisuke and V-mon

Believe it or not, I would say that Daisuke is actually the most difficult to nail the nuances of out of this entire cast. This is probably a really weird thing to hear when the usual fandom mantra is that he’s “flat” or “lacking in development”, but I think the deceptive part is that while he’s simple-minded and himself doesn’t think in complex terms, analyzing his behavior as a whole and how he approaches things actually involves a lot of very delicate balances, and getting that exactly right can be very easy to mess up. Daisuke’s not a rude jerk who looks down on anyone, not in the slightest -- but he’s also not a saint who can do no wrong, either!

I think the easiest analogy (which I’ve brought up several times on this blog already) is that Daisuke is like a puppy, but not just any puppy -- a tiny puppy that barks very loudly at anything it perceives as threatening (regardless of whether it’s actually threatening), makes its feelings very clear with obvious likes and dislikes, and can do some phenomenally stupid things in a bid to please others, but in the end means no malice and only wants you to be happy.

This is to the point where I’m just going to have to bullet-point this, because there’s so much going on at once:

Excessively emotional: One of Daisuke’s earliest profiles refers to him as having “an excessively large range of human emotions”, and really, a lot of the humor surrounding him has to do with the fact he has incredibly dramatic, overblown reactions to nearly everything around him. So if he gets a little annoyed or suspicious of people making fun of him, he tends to get really dramatic about being upset, and when he experiences only a minor setback, he acts like it’s the end of the world, and when he’s emotionally hurt, he sometimes even gets set on the verge of crying (you can especially hear this in Kiuchi Reiko’s delivery). Even Daisuke himself doesn’t tend to get caught up in it for too long and gets over things surprisingly quickly, so you can take it as him just constantly being too wrapped up in the mood -- but when it really is a serious situation, he gets truly emotionally invested in it, too.

Too easy to read: Because Daisuke wears his heart on his sleeve and is dramatic about everything, he’s awful at hiding anything. Any attempt at trickery or trying to disguise his intentions quickly blows up in his face because he’s too simple-minded and too transparent.

Not malicious: Daisuke only ever lashes out or gets angry at others when he thinks others are doing something he disapproves of, or when he thinks he’s being attacked; he’s very warm and kind to everyone otherwise (even in the earliest parts of the series, when he’s at his roughest, you might notice he’s very soft around Chibimon, as if understanding that his partner is now in a very small and delicate form and needs to be treated accordingly). In other words, Daisuke is very quick to get defensive, but he has no malice or reason to be condescending towards anyone otherwise, and he’s perfectly friendly with people even when they’d provoked him earlier (because he doesn’t really hold grudges). He doesn’t attack people without reason; even when he voices dissent against what someone is doing, he very rarely, if ever, insults a person or their character directly. Even when he’s trying to state his opinions (such as when he bids for the others to accept Ken), he never forces them down others’ throats and accepts that they disagree with him, even if he’s clearly not happy with their disagreement.

Easily critical and suspicious: Daisuke is a very bluntly straightforward and honest person, and he seems to get most set off by people who act suspicious; note how his early-series outbursts towards Takeru tend to be when Takeru’s acting evasive, and in Hurricane Touchdown, he catches onto Wallace’s shady behavior even before he starts flirting with Miyako (Daisuke’s own method of trying to seem attractive to others involves just “doing something cool and hoping it’ll impress others”, so he seems to dislike the concept of flirting as a whole). Because of that, he catches easily onto “things looking off”, so he tends to call it out (even if sometimes he’s overdoing it and there isn’t actually anything significant to be upset about).

Supportive and adoring of others: Other than the moments when he gets set off, fundamentally speaking, Daisuke likes other people, is perfectly willing to acknowledge them or heap praise on them when they do something awesome, and generally cares for their well-being. He’s easily defers to others when he understands they’re better than him at something, and he even has a decently realistic scope of his limits (see how he’s perfectly aware he’s likely to lose the soccer game in 02 episode 8, and figures he might as well enjoy the experience). This is even taken to its logical conclusion in the Kizuna drama CD when he “credits” his friends for giving him amazing and insightful advice when all of it was actually pretty ordinary stuff they’d done offhandedly. It also means that, given his penchant for getting emotionally invested in everything, he has a huge emotional stake in making sure his friends are doing okay, and supports them accordingly.

Deferential to seniors/elders: Tying into the above, you may notice that Daisuke takes a properly respectful and soft tone towards his elders and seniors in nearly all occasions, even to the point of occasionally using proper polite-form language around them. All things considered, Daisuke is a pretty well-behaved kid.

Constantly getting strung around: As much as Daisuke looks like he’s aggressive, in actuality, it’s very easy to get him to back down if you argue against him strongly enough, and since he has such a “the heck is that?!” attitude all of the time, you can see him constantly getting strung around and at the mercy of things happening around him. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have enough will to put his foot down when it becomes a really important subject (especially in the second half of the series), but it’s very often when he’ll be talked down by others around him and shrink with an “oh...okay...” In fact, this is why a lot of his actions aren’t nearly as reckless as they might be otherwise; as much as he’s a bit hot-headed and likes to lead the attack, he also has a sense of self-preservation and intimidation when things look a bit too dangerous, and will only push forward in such a case when there’s something he really believes in at the other side of it.

Lacking in self-awareness and insecure as a result: While Daisuke doesn’t have any signs of persistent self-hatred (on the contrary, there are times he arguably comes off as overconfident), it also seems that he has practically zero awareness of how he himself is doing -- which means that he ends up rolling over like an idiot trying to get others’ approval and trying to impress them, even when it’d be clear to anyone else that he already has that approval. This also likely ties into the fact that he’s perfectly capable of acknowledging others’ accomplishments and skills (see above), so you might even think that the problem isn’t so much that he thinks he’s bad as much as he keeps comparing himself to people he perceives as being that much more awesome. (Perhaps symbolic of this, he apparently has a complex over being shorter than Takeru and Ken, despite the fact that he seems to be of perfectly average height for a kid his age.) It seems that his only bar for how he’s doing is dependent on everyone’s reactions around him, hence why his ridiculous antics are significantly less pronounced when he has proper emotional support and friends to keep him in check. It’s also important to consider that this applies to his apparent crush on Hikari as well; his crush mainly manifests in wanting her approval very badly, and it’s mostly visible in terms of him losing a ton of brain cells in her presence and bending over backwards to please her or impress her. He never actually says in words that he’s interested in her, nor does he ever show signs of intending to seriously ask her out, so it’s something that’s only apparent because of this behavior, and it’s very likely he hasn’t even seriously thought through what would happen if she actually accepted him in return. You can basically see this as an extreme version of the way Daisuke tries to get approval from everyone else, and this trait of his noticeably dies down whenever there’s more important things at hand, or when he seems to be in the midst of getting proper validation from those around him.

Simple-minded and pragmatic: What’s usually referred to as Daisuke being an “idiot” comes from the fact he doesn’t play well with complex thinking, tends to settle for very simple explanations or answers, and more thoughtful types like Ken or Iori will often have to fill that part in for him. However, because Daisuke is so simple-minded, he’s sometimes the most pragmatic person in the group, because he doesn’t overthink things or get principles of theory caught up into everything. So if Ken is clearly not showing any indication of doing bad things anymore and is actively working to help, Daisuke believes he should be allowed to help regardless of what he’d done in the past, and if they’re dealing with the situation of potentially having to kill a living enemy, Daisuke points out that hesitation would have resulted in even more casualties. In essence, in a situation where everyone’s running mental loop-de-loops, Daisuke will usually be the first one to snap them all out of it and go “uh? Guys?” Moreover, this trait of his makes him very good at spotting glaring threads or asking questions about the elephant in the room, because since he works best with things that are right in front of him, he can’t not notice it.

Enjoys the little things: Because Daisuke is so simple-minded, it’s very easy to please him (this is why his chosen career path is something as simple as ramen making). Daisuke likes his friends, and appreciates even simple things around him, so he’s happy with even simple pieces of happiness -- hence, why he’s fine with potentially losing the soccer game in 02 episode 8, because he’s ready to simply just savor the experience of getting to play against a respectable and formidable opponent.

Note that the main reason Daisuke never seems to bring up any of these issues with himself within the series proper is simply that he doesn’t seem to be aware of them -- he’s too simple-minded to understand what’s going on with his own behavior in depth, and hence, this is how he can say he’s not worried about too much by the time of 02′s finale, especially since by that point he has a proper support group that’s already helping him deal with most of his issues anyway.

Daisuke also has the roughest speech pattern out of any of the 02 group (similar to Taichi and Yamato in Adventure); he has a tendency to shorten words a lot and use “rough” variants of words (for example “-nee” instead of “-nai”).

Mischievous, friendly, and playful, V-mon is pointed out even by official sources to be much like his partner (far more so than usual), and it’s likely a byproduct of the fact that Daisuke himself is very honest and straightforward about his emotions and thoughts, and so since he has nothing to hide, V-mon is pretty much exactly like him -- with the major difference being that he’s a little more outwardly friendly and less likely to lash out angrily. So he’s effectively Daisuke without that very thin abrasive exterior, and because both of them are so like-minded and friendly, they get along extremely well (albeit with quite a bit of comfortable bantering on the way there).

Ken and Wormmon

Ken is the more intellectual type that Daisuke isn’t, and even after his stint as the Kaiser, it’s clear that he’s still quite studious and naturally interested in studying things. Looking closely at his style of dress and way of carrying himself (note how he lays down his chopsticks in 02 episode 36) indicates he’s also a rather tidy person in general. Being someone who’s capable of thinking things thoroughly, this makes him able to have a lot of deep insight into both intellectual and emotional issues, but because he takes things too seriously sometimes, he can sometimes come off as a bit overly stickler or insistent (note Daisuke and Ken’s Shopping Carol, where he subjects Daisuke to a long-winded lecture about the history of Christmas, because, really, he’s a nerd), or lead himself down the wrong direction when he’s having a hard time being straightforward (such as when he comes up with some very flimsy theories about why Jogress might be dangerous in 02 episode 28).

In fact, Ken’s disposition could be considered to be the opposite of Daisuke’s in many ways; while Ken is much softer and more conciliatory on the surface, he’s actually much more assertive and strong-willed by default, and it’s made clear that, even after his reformation from the Kaiser persona, he could still be vicious if he wanted to, he just doesn’t enjoy it because he doesn’t like it and it goes against his belief system (note that he even offered to "dirty his own hands" in lieu of the other kids if push came to shove and Archnemon had to be killed in 02 episode 29, even though he clearly wasn't enthusiastic about the idea). In fact, he has a very strong sense of responsibility and believes heavily in making up for what he’s done -- recall that 02 episodes 26 and 49 involved snapping him out of it by reminding him that there were things that needed to be done, and that he himself still had many things he wanted to do that wouldn’t be addressed if he’d stayed fixated on his past. Thus, Ken doesn’t deny nor avoid anything he’d done, and he isn’t even all that prone to self-pity -- it’s just that his tendency to put too much responsibility on himself means that he also takes a while to accept everyone’s support, too, because he doesn’t like the idea of putting burdens on others.

Because Ken is actually one of the more straightforward people in this group and a fairly honest person (at least, as long as he’s not lying to himself), he might hold himself back a little bit in order to not be rude, but he doesn’t do it nearly to the same degree Takeru or Hikari would and is much more willing to speak his mind when he has an opinion he wants to voice or needs to sort out his thoughts on something. Conversely, he’s not nearly as cold as Iori can get when criticizing things (he’ll certainly be firm, but not as incisive). Most post-02 materials also indicate that he’s not above being a tease or even a little mischievous (see Armor Evolution to the Unknown, Diablomon Strikes Back, Daisuke and Ken’s Shopping Carol).

Ken uses a speech pattern that’s slightly more casual than Takeru’s, but not nearly as rough as Daisuke’s. While anime will often have speech patterns substantially change between different personas of a character, other than Park Romi’s delivery of a more condescending tone for the Kaiser and a significantly softer one for Ken, nothing about his speech pattern is substantially different between the two personas (not even the first-person pronoun), indicating that, in the end, they’re really the same person after all, just manifesting the same personality traits in different ways.

Wormmon is affectionate and clingy, unfailingly loyal to Ken, and his biggest advocate during a time when Ken is trying to relearn how to love and accept himself -- meaning that he ends up very important to providing Ken the initial support he needed before Ken allowed other friends into his life. Wormmon isn’t all nothing but clinginess, though -- he has some insight about the weight of his experiences when prompted (02 episode 46), and in fact is more than capable of calling out Ken’s behavior when he’s being unreasonable or throwing himself into denial (see 02 episodes 27, 30, and 49).

Miyako and Hawkmon

Miyako approaches everything she likes with an attitude that makes her come off as constantly having bubbles and hearts around her. When she likes something, she says so. When she doesn’t like something, she says so (and she will go off when she’s on a roll; see 02 episode 14). In fact, part of the reason she so infamously voices her opinion on people being cute is, quite simply, that it’s her honest opinion. (Note that she never actually tries to ask them out or anything -- she just wants to make it very clear that they’re attractive.)

For the most part, she adores the people around her, and, like the others in the 02 group, she’s perfectly respectful towards elders.  She also loves poking her nose in others’ business and trying to be as helpful as possible, which is good in that she ends up being a huge help to others, but also not good in that sometimes she overdoes it a bit (when Hikari calls her out for being a “handful” in 02 episode 31, the word she uses is one that literally means "a little too overly involved in others' business").

Miyako is the one who gets everyone up in high spirits by being cheerful, and whose cheer rubs off on everyone else around her (see her cheerfully leading the charge into the Digital World with her “Digital Gate, open! Chosen Children, let’s roll!” catchphrase). This is something the rest of the group catches onto very quickly, asking her to supply the “usual cheer”, and the later episodes of the series especially drive home the fact that her presence and antics bring happiness to those around her.

Miyako has a similar “chaotic, sloppy, and straightforward” demeanor to Daisuke, but there are some key differences. Unlike Daisuke, who’s bluntly honest about his opinions mainly because he doesn’t really hide things in general, Miyako’s opinions will be out of her mouth before she can control it. In other words, she has a nasty case of foot-in-mouth syndrome. In addition, while Daisuke tends to have a very thin skin and lashes out defensively out of instinct, Miyako takes things much more at face value and doesn’t blow a fuse nearly as easily, but because she’s significantly more assertive and aggressive, she’s much more prone to doing what she wants on her own whims instead of backing down to anyone. In fact, Miyako is significantly more emotionally sensitive in the long run, so while Daisuke tends to blow a fuse more easily, he’s also able to shrug it off and move on more quickly, whereas Miyako has a thicker skin, but when she does take emotional pain, she takes it much more deeply and harshly. She also tends to get overwhelmed easily by stress and panic, which makes her one of the more prone to running around in circles and doing frantic things in the midst of it.

One thing you might notice about Miyako is that she’s actually more critical of herself than anyone else in the group is; most of the time they act with mild exasperation at her antics but don’t tend to criticize her directly, whereas Miyako is very aware of her own shortcomings and is constantly either criticizing herself or comparing herself negatively to others (see: 02 episodes 10, 14, 18, and 31 especially). If she slips up and does something that stepped on someone else’s toes, it doesn’t take her long to realize that she’s messed up and want to do better. So while she generally tends to act the most in-your-face and aggressive, she also doesn’t necessarily want to be this way, and suffers from self-confidence issues and a poor opinion of herself.

Miyako uses a feminine speech pattern that’s a bit more casual than Hikari’s (she noticeably is willing to use the word anta for “you”, which has a bit of a connotation of being abrupt and in-your-face, especially with Daisuke). She’s also the most likely to physically manhandle things, both in the affectionate (hugging people) and aggressive (grabbing things and jumping on them in order to attack) senses.

Hawkmon is repeatedly referred to as being like Miyako’s “knight”, since he has absolute loyalty to her (in spite of her ridiculous antics often meaning he gets strung around by her) and is effectively in charge of minding her so she doesn’t get too out of control. While his overly polite and gentlemanly demeanor initially seems like a sharp contrast to Miyako’s aggressive and messy personality, you might also notice that, at their cores, the two aren’t all that different -- both are unfailingly loyal to others, and both also have a penchant for dramatic theatrics and being a bit overly proud of themselves.

Iori and Armadimon

The key thing to know about Iori is that he’s not stoic because he’s not feeling fervent emotions, but rather because he’s constantly holding them back (this is especially apparent if you look carefully at his facial expressions and Urawa Megumi’s delivery, where you can tell his facade is often “slipping” even when his words would indicate otherwise). Since Iori is trying to live by the ideal of being a model citizen, especially under the very formal environment he was raised in, he comes off as mature for his age, but it’s very important to not forget that, underneath all that, he’s still an impressionable nine-year-old child with the wide range of emotions and immaturity of one, and when he does emotionally fall apart, everything tends to burst out (see 02 episodes 16, 44, 47, 50). In addition, Iori is never condescending about the fact he usually acts more mature than the others; the impression is that he’s much more strict with himself than he is with others, and in fact still does look up to his elders in the 02 group even when they’re obviously a lot messier than he is.

The “need to be a model citizen” is something looming over Iori’s head at almost every moment, and it’s the easiest way to understand the way he acts in a nutshell. Iori is focused on the idea of “becoming a proper adult”, which means that he’s adhering to all of these principles because he feels they’re necessary to live a proper and honest life as per the formal manners that his family background trained him into. But like a young child who insists “you have to do this because those are the rules!” all of the time, Iori is over-applying all of this, and even his own grandfather advises him that he really needs to chill (02 episodes 5, 24). In short, he struggles with thinking flexibly and understanding that life isn’t all that clear-cut, because he’s a young child. Since he also tends to bring out these things in relation to “what my father would do/say”, it’s implied that he’s basing all of this off of having only hearsay to work off of in regards to what his father was actually like, to the point of aspiring to an impossible, saintlike version of him he’d created in his head.

Note that Iori’s “rules” have less to do with institutional rules (that would be more of a Jou thing) and more to do with self-imposed personal rules; for instance, he doesn’t mind sneaking into school during a holiday when it’s obviously not hurting anyone (02 episode 6), but he struggles with things like wasting food (02 episode 3) or not formally introducing himself to an elder (02 episode 5). So in other words, his adherence to principles has heavily to do with “the right and proper way to live” more than anything, and what he believes is the right thing to do in a given situation.

Iori’s journey in 02 is largely fueled by the fact that, as an inheritor of sorts of the Crest of Knowledge, he has a sense of “I want to know and understand more” whenever he sees something that makes him curious, but unlike Koushirou’s desire to learn more about the world around him in terms of its technical workings, Iori mainly wants to know more about people. The reason he begins to let go of his inflexible mindset is that he has the humility to understand that he still has a lot more to learn and understand, and when he sees behavior from others that doesn’t make sense, he does his best to learn more about it -- hence how his aggressive probing into learning more about Takeru allows them to reach an understanding and eventual Jogress, and how he’s able to eventually reassess his own view of human morality and emotions.

Iori sticks out in that he almost always uses the formal variant of Japanese in most situations (nobody else in the 02 group does this). However, formal in this situation doesn’t necessarily mean polite; Iori doesn’t believe in flattery and will bluntly state his opinion in said formal tone, and will be very cold towards something he sufficiently disapproves of or doesn’t have any respect for, which can make him even come off as passive-aggressive at times. (Noticeably, while he still asserts his own opinion, he does refrain from criticizing the others in the 02 group too much, presumably because he respects and looks up to them a lot as his elders, regardless of how chaotic they can sometimes get.) In addition, because a lot of his demeanor comes from him restraining himself, when his emotions are sufficiently pushed over the edge, he loses grip on the polite form and starts “lapsing” back into the casual one.

Because Iori was so young during 02, and because the events of its story ended up really upending his view of the world, the huge eight-year gap between 02 and Kizuna makes it difficult to predict certain things about his demeanor at the time of Kizuna (especially since his own voice actor commented on the difficulty of conveying the nuances of Iori’s character, thanks to only being able to work with the limited time frame of a movie that doesn’t put him in the kinds of emotionally drastic situations that push him to his limit). That said, everything we’ve seen of him in the movie itself and the drama CD makes reasonable sense; now that he’s much older, he comes off as having much better restraint on his emotions and coming off as genuinely calm, but he’s still not one for flattery, and you can still see very minor slips in his facade every so often.

Armadimon also initially seems like a sharp contrast to Iori in terms of demeanor, in that he’s much more casual and laid-back, and he’s indeed a huge factor in reminding Iori to chill once in a while -- but, much like Iori, he prods and asks questions about anything he’s curious about. This initially seems to be out of simple-mindedness because, being a Digimon, he doesn’t understand human society that well, but his very basic questions often end up snapping Iori back to reality in realizing that he’s getting hung up on things that don’t actually make practical sense. Urawa also felt that Armadimon fills in some of the void that Iori’s late father left behind, in that he provides Iori with unconditional love and helps guide him.

Takeru and Patamon

Takeru is the kind of person who seems to dislike major disruptions to the status quo, so he doesn’t say anything inflammatory that’ll rock the boat. It’s very difficult to get him to talk about serious topics related to his deeper personal feelings (02 episode 17, 35, Spring 2003), and even when it’s clear he might have more misgivings on the situation, unless it’s an urgent situation where it needs to be brought up, he won’t voice his misgivings too clearly for the sake of not causing trouble (hence why Daisuke is so unsure what to make of him in the early episodes of the series, because Takeru constantly fails to clarify his own position in favor of a “good for you” or “sure, you keep believing that if you want” attitude). This also makes him the most likely to awkwardly change the subject or try to distract with small talk, and it means that, even when he’s saying cheerful, pleasant things, it’s very likely there’s pain or uncertainty under that initial facade. (Note that while his suspicions of Ken during 02 episodes 25 and 27 aren't nearly as vicious as Iori's turn out to be, we learn that he's still willing to quietly accuse Ken of working for his own self-satisfaction in the latter episode, but he never brings this up to anyone but himself.)

Because Takeru isn’t  necessarily doing this to be consciously dishonest, it does mean that he also has positive applications of this tendency to take everything in stride and keep the peace, because he ends up keeping the more extreme personalities in the rest of the group in line and acts as an effective mediator. You could say that he has a pretty high amount of tolerance and a capacity for taking everyone’s points of view in mind. However, since it’s also very difficult to tell what he himself is thinking, his use of this as a poor coping mechanism for his personal trauma leads to a tendency for him to suddenly explode in a mess of emotions whenever something gets too personal, leading to sudden conflict, and with others at a loss in terms of how to deal with him (the most extreme example being 02 episode 19, but also present in 13, 11, and 34). This “two-sidedness” is why it ends up having to be the more consciously methodical Iori who steps up to try and understand him better as his Jogress partner.

Fortunately, Takeru shows signs of becoming more straightforward in the aftermath, although you can see that he still has a penchant for mild flattery and “trying to hold back for the sake of not being rude” all the way up to Kizuna (but, again, this can’t be said to necessarily be a bad thing when it means he has a valuable skill as a mediator).

Takeru has a fairly neutral speech pattern that comes off as casual but not too aggressive or assertive (not as absurdly polite as Iori’s, but slightly less assertive than Ken’s).

Patamon initially still seems to be “immature” in the same way he was in Adventure, which initially seems to widen the gap in personality between him and Takeru, but looking closer reveals that the differences aren’t as big as they seem; Patamon seems to have gained a capability for slyness and active trolling behind his playfulness (see 02 episode 7), not entirely like Takeru starting to use his evasiveness in a teasing-like manner. Moreover, Patamon does actually seem to have gained a bit of proper maturity in the meantime; see how he instructs the Baby Digimon on convenience store food in 02 episode 3, and in general seems much more willing to take independent action in ways he didn’t always in Adventure. Noticeably, Takeru’s difficulty with his own convoluted feelings means that he can’t even have a proper heart-to-heart with him about it on the situation (most glaring in 02 episode 34, where it’s implied that Takeru would rather leave Patamon to be happy right now instead of bothering him about it), especially because he’s clearly having difficulty even working it out with himself. However, despite their ostensible differences in mentality, Takeru and Patamon have no difficulty getting along at all in 02, and, other than Takeru pampering Patamon a bit, there isn’t all that strong of an impression of them being so mismatched -- perhaps because, in the end, they really aren’t all that different.

Hikari and Tailmon

Taichi stated in Adventure episode 48 that Hikari has a problem where she's so selfless and thinking of others that she'll never speak up about her own problems. Hikari states in 02 episode 31 that she compulsively cannot speak out about her own feelings even if she wanted to, to the point she’s jealous of Miyako for being able to be more open (even if it means being overkill at times). As a result: if Hikari’s talking about “the right thing to do”, or something for everyone’s sake, or something that’s relevant to other people and what’s best for them, she will be extremely vocal and quick to act, and she’s not above even chipping in with criticisms (see: 02 episodes 19, 32, 44). In fact, she’s fully capable of being playful or toying with others if she really wants to (see how she casually manipulates Daisuke into calling a lunch break for everyone in 02 episode 6).

The moment the issue at hand is about herself, though -- her own feelings or pain, or something that might hurt others’ feelings (hence the presumable reason she dodges Daisuke’s affections rather than proactively doing anything about it), or something that would put a burden on others for her own sake -- she completely clams up and refuses to do or say anything, and when bad things start happening to her, she resigns herself to her own fate and concludes she can’t do anything about it. Hence, why she takes such a defeatist attitude towards the Dark Ocean swallowing her up in 02 episodes 13 and 31, and why it’s such a big deal if she even so much as asks for help. 02 episode 31 indicates that Miyako reaching out to her is an important step in breaking her out of her shell, and the Kizuna drama CD -- which has Hikari assertively declare something she personally wants -- heavily implies further that Miyako was instrumental to this becoming possible.

Hikari is compassionate for others to the very end, expresses pity for BlackWarGreymon as early as 02 episode 31, and catches on quickly to Ken’s feelings on himself in 02 episode 37 (and even back when she’d been more skeptical about him in 02 episode 25, she never seemed to have real personal distaste against him as much as she still wanted to make sure he was trustworthy first). But although she’s one of the most compassionate in the group, she’s also one of the most assertive in the group. This leads to something that initially seems like a paradox: she’s actually more fervent about the need to fight than the more aggressive Miyako is. Miyako is, ultimately, emotionally caught up in everything and briefly falls apart at having killed LadyDevimon in 02 episode 44 (even despite knowing how horrible of a person she’d been), but Hikari is the one who points out that there would have been more victims if they hadn’t. 02 episodes 25 and 43 had made it abundantly clear that Hikari didn’t like it at all, but she states in 02 episode 37 repeatedly that they need to prevent there from being victims -- meaning that she values the importance of protecting all lives, including those who would be hurt in the process, and thus has some of the more resilient guts when it comes to the prospect of fighting to save others. Again, her hesitation only comes into play at its worst when it has to do with herself; working to save others is a no-brainer.

Hikari uses a casual feminine speech pattern that’s less in-your-face than Miyako’s, but she’s still a bit more casual than she was in Adventure, when she used the more polite watashi instead of atashi. Interestingly, Tailmon herself seems to have mirrored this as well, presumably because now that she’s had more time to recover from her miserable life under Vamdemon, she’s able to enjoy her life a bit more freely. This means that, while Tailmon is still the most mature and put-together of the Digimon partners in the 02 group, she sometimes acts a little more casual and playful in a similar way to Hikari, and while she has a certain degree of stuffy personal pride (see how she wasn’t very amused at how frivolously the other Digimon were playing around in 02 episode 3), she’s still open to enjoying herself a little more freely. Hikari, for her part, becomes surprisingly like-minded with her during those times -- see them in 02 episode 12 -- and, as stated earlier, it’s not like Hikari isn’t up for making tough decisions when they’re needed, either.

[dreamingofmilk]

SugarBabe

Word count 2.1k

Summary: What would it be like if Erik was your boss and you were both stuck in a really tough spot.

This is for @marvelmaree and her birthday challenge.

Another email buzzed into your phone, your fingers anxiously twitched around it desperate to answer and solve all your problems. But it was never that easy.

You were a headstrong and independent woman who always strives to take care of yourself without the help of anyone. You didn’t need anyone to take care of you, but the situation you were in right now made you consider otherwise.

You made phone call after phone call and nothing was working and soon you would be flat on your butt with nothing but your dream job to keep you up. But it really didn’t matter because in the end you would get everything figured out and back on your feet.

For right now you’d focus on your boss and helping him shop for his upcoming business trip. You were supposed to meet your boss Erik Stevens in the watch shop about ten minutes ago but you were a bit weighed down with all the bags you were carrying.

You stopped to rest on a bench, you had a few work calls to make anyway. A loud sigh of relief escaping your lips when the weight of the back. You were just catching your breath when you heard a chuckle come from the stand in front of you.

“It’s okay to ask for help. There’s no reason a young lady like you should be carrying all those bags by herself.” The older man smiled kindly at you. You smiled back and quickly got up from the bench, you didn’t have to explain yourself to anyone. Erik offered to join you to pick up his online orders, but you assured him that his time was better spent on the conference call that he wrapped up ten minutes ago, and that the bags wouldn’t be too much for you to handle on your own.

Eventually you make it to the watch shop, and made eye contact with Erik as you entered the shop loudly with all the bags in your petite hands. Erik’s eyes roll over your form, his jaw clenching as he sees the amount of bags in your possession. He quickly marches over to you and snatches the bags from you. Picking them up effortlessly he bends down to whisper in your ear.

“Next time, we go together.” His anger is thick and understandable, you quickly look away from his eyes and nod. Silence seems like the best response at the moment.

You stand behind Erik to watch him pick out another sharp looking watch. It was his obsession, he loved his watches. Sometimes he would send you to go get them cleaned or fixed but most times he’d rather go himself, regardless of how busy he was.

As his personal assistant he demanded you tag along, especially when times were busy like today. Most of the time he liked having you around for the company, but also because he says having a beautiful girl like you on his arm warded off the desperate attempts some women took to shoot their shot.

Erik was a well known CEO of a huge engineering firm, frequently recognized by business magazines and publications, he easily became one of the western world's most sought after bachelors. So it’s no surprise that women recognized him sometimes and approached him when they felt necessary.

Erik held conferences, did interviews, and held charity galas all the time, working for him paid well, and he treated his employees with respect and cherished anyone who worked hard with him. You admired him and truly enjoyed working for such a determined man.

Erik finished up with the clerk and got his items wrapped up. While waiting he watched how you nervously kept checking your phone. The nervous tick of biting your bottom lip was a dead giveaway. After 5 years of working together Erik knew you well. He could tell when things were bothering you, he trusted you to tell him the truth about his company and a lot of the decisions he made. So any look of unease had him on alert as it usually signaled something that could be a problem with the company.

Annnnd he had a bit of a crush on you, he knew you had a crush on him too, but it was quietly determined that the two of you would not pursue it. The mutual attraction was obvious between the two of you, but you worked hard to bury it deep. Mainly because you worked so well together.

Erik grabbed your chin gently, his thumb forcing you to release your bottom lip. You looked up at him with your eyes wide as saucers. The grip on your phone tightened when you noticed Erik lick his lips staring down at you.

“What’s the matter?” Erik nodded towards your phone. You were a bit shook and quickly pulled yourself out of his grip and closed your phone pocketing it and smiling up at your boss.

“Nothing! Are we ready to go?”

Erik’s eyes squinted at you and nodded as he held up his packaged watches. You lead the way out of the store and towards his car. He put the bags in the trunk and you quickly hopped into the passenger seat after he opened it for you. You quietly murmured thank you and pulled out your work phone to see what was next on the agenda for the day.

Erik has a huge business deal coming up that required his travel to Singapore. Normally you’d travel with him for deals as big as this one, but this one was so important that he would be gone for about 2-3 weeks, maybe having to be back and forth a bit longer if everything went really well… or really bad. This trip required a lot of preparation on his part and yours and he left in two days, so it’s imperative that he complete his travel shopping today.

Erik climbs into the driver's seat and pulls off from the curb.

“Okay you have an appointment at Grisham Mall for those suits, then-“ Erik cut you off and held his hand out for your phone.

“Give it to me.” His voice is deep and rough. You go to hand him your work phone confusion etched on your face. “The other one.” His eyes cut towards you. “I’m not playing with you.” Your brain shorts. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you were used to Erik’s moods and for the most part they turned you on more than anything.

“Why! It’s not that deep Erik.”

“Then give me the fucking phone so I can see what’s got you so nervous. Or you could just tell me.” Erik’s face was serious, he could always tell when you were trying to keep things from him.

You sigh and hand over your phone with the email detailing your eviction from your apartment.

Erik’s face got tighter as he read the email, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

“How did this happen?” He glanced briefly at you.

“I think someone stole my identity.” The words slip from your mouth, you’d been trying to handle it on your own this entire time, but things were worse than you perceived them to be.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply, his frustration clear. "How long has this been going on?"

"About a month." You shrunk a bit under his intense gaze, embarrassed to give him the answer.

"You've been dealing with this for a whole month and didnt say anything?" Erik knew you were headstrong and independent, he just never knew how deep that went.

You shrugged, "I'm handling it. I just need to talk to my leasing office and ask for an extension on rent. It's nothing to worry about."

Erik chuckled, mocking you under his breath. “Nothing to worry about” Erik grabbed your wrist, "The hell it is." He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a black Amex card.

"Here, pay your rent and everything else with this. I'll get Marcus on the phone and have him figure out who stole your identity." He flicked the card at you like it was a $10 Walmart gift card. You instinctively tried to push it back to him, but thought better of it when you saw the glare on his face. It's best to pick your battles with Erik and now was definitely not a good time to argue with him. He hates when you hide big things from him.

You grabbed the card and gave him a small but genuine smile, the relief and frustration fought for domination on your face. "Thank you so much Erik. I promise I'll pay you back."

"Don't worry about it. It's nothing."

You shook your head vigorously. "Bullshit! I'm paying you back one way or another."

Erik rolled his eyes, but he didn't argue. You made your way to the mall. Erik was on the phone giving Marcus a rundown of your situation so he could get started. The two of you made it to the next mall to pick up the suits. Shortly after he hung up, his phone rang again.

He greeted them with a simple "Erik." You couldn't help but eavesdrop, hey some could say it was part of your job, especially when Erik's face quickly morphed into shock.

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" He said.

There was a bit more conversation. “Why the hell did no one see this being an issue earlier. I specifically asked what were their core values!!” Erik's face grew more frustrated as it continued before he said a quick goodbye and hung up.

"Is everything ok? Did something go wrong with the Singapore trip?" You waited a few moments before asking.

"That was Jeff. He was able to do the values and moral eval on the owners and it's about what we expected, except for the part where they truly believe a businessman needs to be married and involve his wife in the processes of the business. They like the idea of a family guy basically.” Erik rolled his eyes. “Some bullshit about how there might be another competitor with values that line up more. Jeff's suggesting I need to find a fake wife for the trip to stay in their good graces. How the fuck am I going to find someone suitable in 2 weeks?" Erik pinched the bridge of his nose, his nostrils flaring in frustration.

You immediately started racking your brain sifting through all of the women you knew who could maybe handle the job. It had to be someone who knew their way around a company, even better if they had experience in the types of mergers Erik did. They had to get along with Erik- which was pretty difficult once he got to know them- enough to convince the owners that it was a real marriage. They had to be free during the 2-3 week period he would be in Singapore, and be able to do all of this under short notice. Not to mention all of the other factors like facilitating business meetings, building rapport, etc.

Erik suddenly stopped walking, and you were so deep in thought that you ran into his broad back, almost knocking yourself to the floor.

He quickly wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you, pulling you close to his side. He smelled so damn good!

"That's it! I don't know why I didn't see it sooner!" Erik smiled brightly.

"See what?" You tilted your head in confusion. He smiled softly and moved a few pieces of your hair back into place. "You can be my wife. You know everything about the company, we've been working together for years so we won't have to worry about that. It's perfect!"

The thought of it alone brought a euphoria you've never felt before, which was terrifying. There's no way you'd be able to handle pretending to be Erik's wife! You barely held it together working alongside him these past few years.

You shook your head, "Erik, I'm sure there's someone else who would work better for this. Plus someone is going to have to handle your day to day operations while you're gone."

He smirked, "I'll have Gina take that over, no problem. Besides, weren't you just talking about how you were going to pay me back? Do this for me and I'll consider us even. Think of it as overtime."

Damn, he had a point. You would just have to guard yourself during this trip then. You can't allow yourself to get caught up. He was right though. He's done so much for you, it'd be nice to be able to help him out for once.

You looked into his eyes and nodded.

"Ok. I'll be your wife."

Taglist:

@aislinnsilver @marvelmaree @wawakanda-btch @chaneajoyyy

[chrysalispen]

#1 - Foster

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33640546/chapters/83598181

"She's getting so big," Vittora cen Remianus says. 

"She is." 

L'haiya agrees more to make conversation than aught else. The Miqo'te's two-toned eyes flicker in the direction of that little head with its riotous crown of rolanberry-gold curls - now bent studiously over a modest tower of wooden bricks - before turning her attention back to the drawn, exhausted face of the child's mother. Vittora has never really been what one would call robust, but at least the composer's pallor had been offset by a bit of spring in her step once upon a time. There is color in her cheeks, of course, a bright rosy flush, but L'haiya suspects the credit for it belongs to artifice and a half-bell spent before a dressing mirror, not to improved health.

"And so very, very bright." There is a note of quiet pride in the Garlean woman's voice, one which L'haiya has previously only heard from her when she speaks of one of her completed commissions premiering in the state playhouses. "I aim to have her brought to my studio on her fourth nameday. She is old enough now to begin pianoforte lessons."

"I wish you good fortune. You will need it," L'haiya laughs. "Small children are rarely wont to sit still for long, especially if something of greater interest catches their eye."

Vittora's shoulders lift and drop, the movement loose and listless, as though her arms are lifted by marionette strings. "Then I shall simply have to be the most fascinating thing in the room," she says, and L'haiya's brow creases before she can stop herself. 

"You did not call me here to talk about Aurelia's piano lessons, surely."

The statement, faintly accusatory, falls like lead from her lips. Were it anyone else, she would not have dared to speak thus. The layers of social hierarchy in the Garlean Empire are many and complex, like the fine layers of sponge in a princess cake: upset even one, and it can upend the entire concoction. Vittora is of common stock, but common or not she is still a true Garlean, and one married into one of the realm's most powerful military families at that.

But if the lady of the house is in any way offended by the boldness of her social inferior she does not show it: a rueful smile curves her thin lips. The light in her eyes seems muted, as though refracted through green bottle-glass. "I did not, but this matter very much concerns my daughter."

There is no hiding her worry. Vittora has had occasional spells of illness as long as they have known each other: brief and always fleeting, never longer than a day or two. But the physical strain of carrying a child and the long and difficult labor she endured to bring Aurelia into the world--these have left her a shadow of the sprightly, ambitious woman she once was.

Mingled with the pride in her eyes is sorrow: sorrow, and bone-deep fatigue.

L'haiya swallows past the sudden constriction she feels tightening her throat. "Well," she manages at length, "out with it, then."

"Julian has requested an audience with his brother and with his superiors." L'haiya waits patiently while Vittora coughs into one thinned palm, the sound of it shallow and dry. "The head of the family thinks it best if we take our leave now that Aurelia is old enough to travel."

"...You mean to go to the provinces with him?"

"I do. We were to leave the capital at the first opportunity that presented itself and now that day has come. 'Twas ever a condition of the family's agreement not to disinherit Aurelia for our indiscretion. I fear they have only delayed due to my ill health, and I would not see my child subjected to the ignominy of being declared a bastard." 

For the trouble which I have brought upon them. Vittora's self-recrimination hangs between them unspoken and L'haiya does not press further. She is well familiar with the heavy price that her friend has paid, in both her career and her reputation, to marry for love. It does not bear repeating.

"I will do what needs must for her sake, L'haiya. And in this case, those needs coincide with mine own."

"I don't understand."

"The chirurgeons believe that the harshness of the winter months has greatly contributed to my... present deterioration. Master Severus has advised Julian that if at all possible, he should seek a second villa in the southern provinces." After a moment's hesitation, she adds, "He suggested Rabanastre."

L'haiya's homeland. "And you want me to come with you."

"Yes. Now, I know how you feel about Dalmasca-"

"You don't. Not truly. But that is neither here nor there, I suppose."

Vittora's brow knits with her consternation. "...You would not have to see her if you did not wish it. The villas where officers and their families reside are well removed from the rest of the city."

That is not the problem L'haiya faces, but it is not one Vittora would understand. Many have chosen to resist imperial occupation just as there are many who chose to accept their altered circumstances, and L'haiya has seen and heard what the various splinters and pockets of Dalmascan resistance scattered throughout the Estersands do to perceived traitors. "I fail to see why my presence is required in Rabanastre."

"Someone must care for Aurelia."

"Aurelia has her mother. She needs her mother," L'haiya says flatly. "She does not need me." 

The Garlean woman folds her hands in her lap, eyes half-shut with her lowered gaze. 

"I think I shall not be in her life for very much longer, L'haiya."

"Vittora-"

"You can see the way of things- how it is with me." Leaf-green eyes, seeming enormous in that drawn face, gaze at her with a silent plea in their depths. The distant sorrow has returned and with it a gleam of fear. "The chirurgeons are very careful not to voice their thoughts, but every night when I close my eyes to sleep I can feel another piece of my strength slip away. One more piece I know I shan't have back. They don't need to tell me what I already know."

Understanding strikes her like a bolt of wild levin- or perhaps a brutal punch to the gut. Looking at Vittora with this newfound discovery she can see a knowing look in her friend's eyes. It is as though Vittora can sense the spectral hand of her own mortality reaching forth from some as yet unwritten future to claim her for its own. 

"L'haiya. Please." Vittora's voice is soft, conciliatory. "Julian goes to these lengths because he is not yet willing to face the truth. I need you to be there for her when-"

Vittora doubles over, wheezing, clutching at her chest with one hand. The commotion startles the child out of her play, and L'haiya sees a flash of gold and wide, anxious eyes of a curiously dark blue. Immediately the little girl shoves her toys aside with a loud clatter and clambers to her feet with the clumsiness of the very young. In moments she has reached the grand high-backed chair where her mother sits wreathed in a nest of blankets and soft sheepskin. 

"Mama," she tugs on Vittora's sleeve, tiny features crumpled with anxiety. The motion bounces her hair; her still-developing third eye is visible for just a moment beneath that cap of curls, a sliver of pearlescent white no larger than the tip of a fingernail. Her mother's coughing fit recedes, surf pulled away from the shore by a rising tide. 

"All is well, sunshine." Vittora's hand falls back to her lap and she raises her chin. Her lips are suspiciously reddened, but she smiles at her daughter and runs her fingers through her hair. Tears stand in her eyes but do not spill. "See?"

"Up, Mama." Heedless of aught save her own desire to give and receive comfort, Aurelia attempts to drag herself onto Vittora's lap. L'haiya gently plucks her fingers from one of the coverlets piled atop her mother's legs, then hoists the child into her arms only for her to make her displeasure known with a thwarted whine. "No!"

"Your mama needs her rest."

"Mama," Aurelia insists, her lower lip wobbling. It's a trick she's used on countless servants and even her own parents in the past but L'haiya is unmoved by it, and merely adjusts the girl's weight from her arm to her hip. As the toddler squirms in her arms, the Miqo'te turns her attention back to the child's mother.

"Since it's clear you'll badger me until the decision is made in your favor, pray consider it done," she says at last, somewhat testily. 

"I am eternally grateful." Vittora's smile is in turns sad and knowing, and she cannot bear it for more than a few moments. "Thank you, L'haiya."

Her eyes turn to the wall of white swirling in the storm beyond the window. Somewhere beyond it are the slow blinking lights along the walls that separate the imperial palace complex from the rest of the city, and L'haiya forces herself to shove down the sudden surge of bitterness. 

What else is there to say? To do? She knows she could not have refused. She loves Vittora Remianus with the surety of a beloved sister, and she knows what she would do for her own half-sister should such an unlikely circumstance ever occur, and so she will raise this child for her friend's sake. Of course she will. And just as every other citizen of the Empire must do when called to bend to the whims of its rulers, her own dreams are not so much relinquished as they are flung into the darkness, to be discarded along with all the other parts of herself she has sacrificed to fill an imperfect mold.

She feels as though she has just given her life away. She knows she has.

Outside, the northern wind howls around the villa's steel eaves like a despairing scream.

[myfandomrambles]

Morgana Pendragon Character Analysis (pt1)

Introduction:

Morgana Pendragon is one of the most key characters in Merlin. Her role is integral to the character arc of all of the other leads. Her story is about how someone can let their pain consume them whole. As an abuse victim and a member of a marginalised community, she is set up for being isolated and fearful. This alienation is turned both inward and outward making her deeply dangerous to herself and others. She takes this alienation to push almost everyone out of her life and force others to suffer the same way she did. Her righteous anger at her treatment by her father and society goes to waste when none is put to constructive ends. 

She allows emptiness, fear and anger to consume her. She replaced her core beliefs with those of “others are out to hurt me” and “the only way to live is through the acquisition of power”. Her ability for both affective and cognitive empathy becomes suppressed as any joy she can drive comes from exerting control over others. She is compelled into implementing her obsessions around revenge and survival. Depression, obsessive thoughts, paranoia, fear and anger fill all corners of her mind leaving her without access to flexible thought and internal peace. 

Analysis:

At the start, she is living as a member of court and Uther’s ward. She continually butts heads with Uther. This is due to her being headstrong and fearless. This bravery and stubborn disposition causes more rifts as she is seen to be hysterical and as an object, leaving her subject to gaslighting and other forms of abuse. However, this rarely stops her from being involved when important. Morgana often works with Arthur and Merlin early on. The most key of these events being when they save Mordred. (1x08)

However, her stubbornness isn’t all-consuming, while resisting being forced to do things she dislikes she is smart enough to know when to lie and when to bend the knee. Partly because as a child and young-adult she holds a mix of respect, love and fear towards Uther. She shows skills in court life, this is deeply important to understand as it becomes a useful skill when she works against the kingdom. But in the beginning, it shows someone who lives in the duality of wanting to assert herself and someone who absorbed the social rules she was raised with. 

Morgana shows great care for those around her wanting them to be safe and happy. Often stepping up to speak on behalf of them, and generally treating even Gwen and Merlin, people considered her inferiors socially, with respect. Standing up for Gwen's dad, helping protect Elador, helping feed peasants and trying to protect Gwen when they are attacked shows her kindness and loyalty. (1x03, 1x08, 1x10-12)

She doesn’t have a consuming desire for power, no particular plan to marry into or otherwise acquire power. Her later turn to power is reactive and less of an innate drive. It also a drive to be the one who determines her future. 

When Morgana's powers start to grow we see the first shift in her character. The development of anxiety and depression colour the way she acts. It adds layers to her abuse and trauma. A great deal of gaslighting is used to convince her she is mistaken and to prevent the acknowledgement of her magic. Which we know Gaius has been hiding since she was a child visa via her prophetic nightmares. 

This alienation is from the entire culture she grew up in. When she visits the druids in The Nightmare Begins (2x03) Morgana feels free and desires to stay, she just wants to be herself. 

This is similar to the experience marginalised people experience in real life. She knows that if discovered her magic father figure/father would likely kill her. Morgana also believes her other loved ones would at the least disown her. 

In reality, there is some nuance. Merlin acts as both an agent of the system while originally trying to help her and Gaius and Gwen would not wish harm on her. But Morgana is understandably afraid and full of anxiety to reach out for help. This anxiety, confusion, fear and alienation become the way she perceives the world. Life is Morgana, then everyone else. This pain drives a wedge between her and everyone she used to care for.

Outside of the gaslighting and threat of violence, she experiences from those close to her during The Witchfinder (2x07) we see her deal with mental assault from an outside force with no support from her family as they don’t understand. This makes her dysregulation, anxiety, depression and isolation worsen. 

The next two key events in her first character transformation can be seen at the end of season two. First, Morgana meets Morgause (2x08) and automatically feels a connection to her. Second, Morgana is pushed to verbally disown Uther due to his treatment of Avalar and by extension the rest of the Druids and others born with magic. This is the final relational rupture between them:

Morgana: They are rising up against you! From this day forward, I do not know you. From this day forward, I disown you

King Uther: You will go to your chambers!

Morgana: And you, Uther, you will go to hell.

 (2x11)

We then see her move into helping Morgause try and destroy Camelot. At this point, it is driven by the anger she has for Uther and his treatment of others. It has yet to have the drive of becoming queen. Her connection to Morgause also plays a large role as she finally has a person to be close to without the artifice of court life over it. Morgause gives her a choice and with that an illusion of power. At this point, there is a more powerful member of their team. Morgana ends this attempt at Camelot almost being murdered by someone she considered a friend. (2x12)

We then have an interesting moment in her character arch in her year away from Camelot. This time away changes her from someone who while willing to hurt Uther didn’t seem driven for the destruction of Camelot, to one who will hurt everyone. There is also a reprieve from the fear-driven to more controlled anger by the assistance of Morgause. 

We are never told what happened in the year. All we know is he stayed with her sister and likely had her hatred of Uther entrenched even further. Her worst tendencies towards vengeance over justice and ego over compassion are reinforced. This shifts her schema farther into negative ones and worsens her ability to think in shades of grey.

When she does return her previous ability to play the game of court life is stronger and utilised to great effect convincing everyone for a while that she is essentially the same person, except for Merlin and by extension Gaius. Gwen is the next to figure it out due to Morgana’s affect control dropping and her real emotion bleeding through over time. (3x08)

As she returns to Camelot she quickly moves to attempt another attack. This attempt is stopped again by Merlin, but in this attempt, we see new cruelty in her willingness to torture Uther and that her magic has grown. This is also the last time I believe her alienation and marginalization is her driving force. After this, I think she fully turns her internalized fear of her magic onto everyone else. Her exchange with Merlin during the battle feels genuine and not at all like manipulation or even just a justification as it becomes later, but a real motivation. She has not yet grown to shut off her empathy for everyone, only Uther and Arthur. (3x1-2)

Soon after her second attempt on the castle, we see another large shift in motivations. She almost dies and is severely injured which puts her in a vulnerable place and during this same time she learns she is Uther’s daughter in blood as well as circumstance. She learns that he never was willing to claim her or even tell her. This pushes her to act rashly, almost committing patricide. (3x05)

Her ability to be cruel in her aims continues to grow, to hurt Arthur she puts Gwen through terrible pain as well as Elyan. (3x07) We see her magic grow, her emotions grow but her ability to hide her intentions failing, at least around Gwen. Her attempts at her family's lives also continue to be cruel as she tries to kill Arthur and Uther in slow and painful ways. (3x08, 3x11)

When Morgana isn’t trying to kill the people she used to love she is trying to mess with their lives in more petty ways. This includes exposing the love Arthur and Gwen have for each other, putting their relationship in jeopardy and Gwen’s over well being. This is over her fear of Gwen being Queen when Arthur would become Queen, something that Morgana gains obsessive thoughts over throughout the rest of the story. (3x10)

Morgana is willing to kill a large number of the people at this point not only those she has a personal issue with. Though she does offer safety to Gwen thought it’s contingent on her considering Morgana to be the rightful queen. She is willing to rule by fear and threat, not understanding how to win over the people. (3x12-13). This attempt fails and Morgana loses her sister and the allies her sister made.

After being defeated and having to flee the castle with her dying sister she spends a year moving around with her ill sister while also gaining more strength and becoming a fully-fledged High Priestess of the Old Religion. 

In an attempt to take the castle again she has to kill her sister. Something that caused her great distress as Morgana believed Morgause was the only person who understood and loved her. This event causes great suffering to all, it’s also when Morgana adds her obsession with Emrys along with her obsessive thoughts over Gwen and Uther. 

During this first period of exile, she recruits Agravaine to be her spy and aid within the court. They seem to be united by a common cause but Morgana doesn’t treat him as equal, adopting the belief she hated so much from Uther, treating others as tools. 

She also accepted a standard of living that is much below that of the ward of the king. Her way of dress and acting also shifts, she’s still cunning and driven but while now being the master of herself she is more erratic and seems to feel just as out of control and obsessed as she was when living a lie. Her affect control, impulse control, regulation and social regulation deteriorated. Fear also returns to being a driving force. (4x01-2)

Morgana succeeds in killing Uther in The Wicked Day (4x03) by cursing a necklace and Agravaine puts it on Uther so that when Arthur uses magic to try and bring back his father from a fatal injury he dies faster. Planning to finally kill her father she also wishes guilt and pain on her brother.

We then see Morgana use both strength and her ability to manipulate to work Queen Annis to try and kill Arthur. Morgana is not against using her history to use another person. However, Annis sees through her when Arthur shows honour and points out that Morgana is much more like Uther than she realises, and in saying this it also refutes the point Morgana tried to make early in the episode that Gorlois was who was her true father. This is true in both the biological sense but also through the fact that Uther spent more time acting as her father and had generally known her own life. This statement also acts as a trigger causing her to show extreme emotions. (4x05)

One of the key lines of dialogue we have to see where Morgana’s mindset is at during this period is 

Morgana: Don’t think I don’t understand loyalty because I’ve got no one left to be loyal to

This is important because it shows that the isolation that started by The Nightmare Begins has enveloped her. Now she is no longer even fighting with or for anyone she has devoted herself to revenge and survival.

We also see the fear that drives Morgana as at the site of Emrys her first reaction is flight. During their battle, we see that they are almost evenly matched in magical power, though Morgana only really gets through due to Merlin not being willing to act decisively still. (4x06)

Morgana's obsession with Emrys becomes almost all-consuming. Morgana gives away the most emotionally significant thing left of her sister to obtain information on Emrys. She tries desperately to find the information torturing a man who spent her childhood helping to take care of her. But a layer of contradictions exists as he also tried to make her doubt her reality and is helping the person destined to prevent her ascension to queen and to kill her. This complex relationship is important here for the emotional repercussions of what seems like a straightforward attempt to extract information. (4x07)

Morgana shows no regard for even the laws of life and death gain in her quest in Lancelot Du Lac (4x09) bringing Lancelot back to life. Morgana does not even to directly finish her quest to take the throne but to ruin her once friend, and closest confidant's chance at happiness. This is driven by an obsession with her past nightmare about Gwen becoming Queen. Though of course, it has the added benefit of breaking her brother's heart. The only show of emotional connection we see in her is the fear underlying her actions and her musings on the emptiness the shade Lancelot has. 

During The Sword and The Stone (4x12-13), we see Morgana take over the castle by using Agravaine for treason. Morgana is not only ruthless in what would be considered warfare but takes initiative to be cruel to the peasants willing to let them starve to gain control. She then tortures Gawain, Elyan and Gaius not only for information but just because she gains pleasure from it. The ability to empathise with those she deemed her enemies is no longer existent, even those who have not directly harmed her. Her depressive states and emotional nubbing is only broken when she can exert control over other people. She is choosing to hurt others for her pleasure. 

This is their first battle when both Morgana and Arthur understand who the other is. Morgana calls him as her “dear brother” as a taunt. We then have this exchange:

King Arthur: What happened to you, Morgana?

King Arthur: I thought we were friends

Morgana: As did I. But alas, we were both wrong.

King Arthur: You can't blame me for my father's sins.

Morgana: It's a little late for that. You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about me and my kind. You're not as different from Uther as you'd like to think.

King Arthur: Nor are you.

Morgana: I’m going to enjoy killing you, Arthur Pendragon. Not even Emrys can save you now.

We see Arthur is hurt by what happened and truly did love Morgana and doesn’t like having to fight her like this. And Morgana is consumed by the pain of the past to the inability to care for the present. Arthur, however, is not giving her the power of acknowledging her as his sister. He still says “my father”. He compares her to their father and triggers her anger. We see them attempt to fight, Morgana is unable to use her magic due to Merlin and panics. 

She gathers herself, able to make her escape even coming close to killing Gwen. She then almost dies only being revived by Aithusa, who becomes her closest friend from this point on. (4x13)

We then have another time skip of over two years. Two of those years Morgana was being tortured in the pit by The Sarum. This has the effect of taking an already traumatised individual and layering two years of severe chronic trauma on top of it. She has less control of herself as a result of this and loses the little bit of impulse control she had. 

We first see Morgana after this when she is searching for the Diamair to try and learn how to beat Arthur. Morgana can capture and lure Arthur to her by kidnapping his men and using spies. She almost finds what she seeks but the creature itself has no wish to be used by her making her search futile. We also see her not even consider a father being willing to do something dangerous to save his daughter, her own acquired lack of compassion colouring her judgement. 

This is also the re-introduction of Mordred, a character that acts as the turning point in the rest of the narrative. Seeing Mordred shows some of the only real joy we see from Morgana since her sister died years back. She, however, pushes him away due to her display of rage and dysregulation. Mordred stabs her literally in the back. (5x01-2)

One of Morgana's most cruel attacks is used to try and turn Gwen into a weapon by torturing her for days, breaking down her psychological defences leaving her open to manipulation. This leaves her under control of Morgana thinking that Morgana cares for her. While this is mainly a spell able to be broken there is a part that relies on Gwen's psychology of being compassionate so she will be sympathetic to Morgana’s story and trauma. With the long psychological attacks and this play on Gwen's compassion, we see Morana essentially form a trauma bond. She manipulates Gwen’s perceptions and emotions in a way that is very similar to emotional abusers. 

 This act also kills Elyan in Morgana's attempt to harm Arthur (5x06) During this control we see how strongly Morgana used it to make Gwen not only a weapon but also they feel like they are friends again, being lonely might have been part of why he chose this method and less of a direct method like she did with Merlin. (5x07-8) 

Once Arthur is aware of her curse on Gwen he sets out to break the magic but is almost thwarted by the Dochraid who tells Morgana of his plans to save Gwen. This is interesting as the Dochraid is one of the few magic beings who truly side with Morgana betting on her strength of will over Merlin’s. Morgana is then forced to face off against the one thing other than her dragon, Mordred. Mordred puts up a good fight even saving Merlin’s secret. She felt conflicted in harming him and ends up losing to his surprise attack. (5x09)

After her plan with Gwen fails he returns to her full-tilt hunt for Emrys. She hunts the Catha for information causing terror across multiple kingdoms, then excruciatingly tortures him to try and find out. Hunting anyone down who might know these plans however fail because Alator and Finna believed in something larger and were willing to suffer and die. Morgana no longer understands the bigger picture her idea of a world free for magic isn't her leading drive anymore. After this incident, Morgana is seen to have declared all-out war with Camelot. (5x10)

Mordred acts as the last domino to fall into place before the final battle between Morgana and Arthur Pendragon. When Kara is killed and Merlin and Arthur were the drivers behind her execution, Mordred becomes angry enough at the system of Camelot to move to side with someone he saw as dangerous and broken. He gives Morgana the information she needs on Emrys. (5x11)

With Mordred by her side, Morgana makes her final move, forging a sword just to kill Arthur and finalizing the amassment of an army. She clears the way by removing Emrys from the situation, giving her and Mordred a clean shot at Arthur and the army of Camelot. However, she underestimates Merlin and we see her lose much of her Army and Mordred. This causes Morgana despair as she has to bury the last person she loved. One of the few things that could even start to pierce her depression is ripped away. 

This loss isn’t enough to stop the endless patterns of a compulsive need to take out revenge on Arthur. 

The final moments of her life she taunts her brother in his death claiming a victory. It’s however short-lived as Merlin kills her with a dragon fire-forged blade right after she claims her immortality. Her pain consumed her, and as the death of her father there is no triumph in hurting her brother as all it does is open her up for her death. (5x12-13)

[zuzu-hotman]

Ready To Love P.6 [[Zuko]]

Pairing: Zuko x Female!Reader

Warnings: The usuallll as well as mentions of death and darkish themes??

A/N: this is late and shitty im sorrryyyy

Pt.1,, Pt.5,, Masterlist

“....”

“What were you expecting him to return and sweep you away? Foolish.”, her words cut deeper than they ever had. Hitting the rusted old nail directly on it’s head.

Azula never much cared to talk to you. Not when he was here and not even when he had been banished, as he was now. However when she did speak to you, it was always when she knew she would inflict the most pain.

When she knew she could gut you so deep, it would haunt you for years to come.

She laughed as she looked down upon you. It was not a happy sound. Nothing like her older sibling, who had always laughed with joy in his heart, when he had it. Hers was cruel- meant to make you seethe. She had the gall to laugh in your face after telling you the ‘news’. You were sadly hoping for good news. You knew Azula was like this- you had always known she was not good. You just didn’t know her well enough to really determine if it was fully true.

Lesson learned.

“Oh, don’t cry now. Not when I haven’t gotten to have my fun yet! I’ve been absolutely dying for a chance to get rid of you! You see, you get in my dear friend Mai’s way!”, she gives you an eerie smile, “It’s only fitting that I, one of her dearest friends, takes care of the issue!”

She talks as if she’s doing some sort of favor. Like she’s doing something absolutely necessary. Your tears sliding down our face don’t stop her at all. She acts as if they aren’t there. She acts as if she hasn’t just told you your father was killed for his ‘crimes’.Killed for being an Earth Bender from the Earth Kingdoms. For being who he was.

For not being Fire Nation.

“You see, my Dad doesn’t care to do multiple executions in a day. Takes up too much time. You and your Mother are granted a sliver of mercy. You two are to leave immediately. Now, if you dare step foot in this land again, there will be no mercy, understand?”, she gives you a wide grin. “No more living here and no more Zuzu for you. See, I could have had you killed but since you’ve done nothing to me personally, I’ll be nice this once.”

That had made you snap, “Nice. Nice? You call that being nice?!”

Her face turns sour, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! You just told me my father was killed- you made no attempt to try and stop it! You come in my home and you tease me and laugh like you didn’t have a hand in his death! How did you even know who he was!”, you can feel yourself shaking. Can feel your deepest secret threatening to rise up within you. He’d told you to hide it while you were here, to never use it. How would you escape if you did? So close to the heart of the royal grounds?

“Hah. Your dad was a fool. Using his bending on palace grounds. He put up a real fight, but he was clearly outnumbered and outmatched. As all Earth fools are.”

She wasn’t going to tell you. That much was clear.

You tried to hold back, you really did. Azula just had a knack for bringing out the worst in people. You’re not proud of what you did. Yet you don’t regret it. The look on her face was priceless.

Perhaps you hadn’t actually beaten her, but it was as close as you’d ever get. Still, she always had the last word.

“He’ll never like you. You’ll be sad all your miserable life! You’re a fake! A liar! You never belonged here! Useless Earth peasant!”

So then what was this? You were certain she was right, despite how your heart had hoped. You were sure you’d see him with Mai- or with some other pretty Fire Nation girl. Someone other than you. You had especially believed this when he looked at you like that back underground in Ba Sing Se. He had finally seen you then. Who you were and where you came from. His actions at that time had you thinking he’d never see you as anything ever again.

Sure, you were wrong. He had wanted his friend back. You just didn’t know he’d want more. Much more.

Unfortunately, he took your stunned silence the wrong way. The hurt look in his face broke your heart for the split second he allowed you to see it.

“Right.”, he had said, “I’m sorry I- we should get ready to leave.”

He didn’t give you a chance to try to pull him back. Not that your mind gave you one either. You were still reeling, even now, sitting in Appa’s saddle, staring up at the passing clouds. Him? Love you? Since when?

How?

What was it that he loved about you- though couldn’t you ask yourself the same?

You had an answer though. Multiple answers, ranging from the way he smiled to the way he never saw you as just some lowly peasant. New ones being added like how he loved his Uncle and valued what he thought of him. How he’d proved his will and determination to change, to admit everything he was taught back in his own home was wrong. To make the choice himself to leave everything behind and do what was right, despite the massive hatred he had gained from his own flesh and blood.

His strength, no matter how it may have wavered.

Just him in general.

You should be on cloud nine right now- you should be feeling so light, so why weren’t you? What was holding you back?

“You think he’ll ever want you around anymore once he knows? It’s not your being an Earth Bender. It’s your lies. It’s you never telling him, or, oh.. not trusting him. Poor Zuzu..”

Her words still echoed to this day. Unfortunately, she still haunted you. From her smile as she shattered your life as you knew it, to the same one she wore when she saw Zuko react to you that day.

You couldn’t let her hold you back all your life, otherwise her lies would become truths. Zuko wouldn’t lie about something like that. He wasn’t Azula. You couldn’t compare the two.

The only comparison was the often bad timing. The difference was, Azula’s timing was bad because she was not on their side of things. She was an inconvenience. Zuko had no sense of time. A war was ahead of him. The world was on the verge of combusting as he knew it. There was no right time.

You could agree with him. Tomorrow was not guaranteed. A future was not promised, only hoped for.

So, as you moved your gaze to the back of his head in front of you, you made up your mind.

Words were not wasted in asking him to follow you that night. You didn’t care that you had just grabbed him from his conversation with Aang. Didn't think to respond to the look of shock on either of their faces as you took him by the arm and dragged him away. You also didn’t think of how it might be perceived on his end.

Zuko was sure you were going to chew him out. He followed you, matching your urgency with dread in the pit of his stomach. Had he crossed a line that night? Were you mad now? He hadn’t meant to upset you- he wasn’t lying. He had thought about it over and over and over again. He came to that conclusion after asking himself hundreds upon thousands of questions.

Why had he missed you so much? What was it about your laughter that he craved? Why did he enjoy clasping your hand in his? What was the reason for him always thinking of you when he was welcomed back home? Thinking of where he would take you and what he would show you? Now that you were both older and he had more freedom?

How come his heart cried for you when you told him the loss of your beloved father? What made his heart ache at you having to harbor a life threatening secret all on your own- being unable to tell him even when your life was once secure?

What was it about you?

The answer was not being his childhood friend. It was just being you. Being the best escape from his life at home. Being his definition of home. He’d been lost without you. Sad and hurt and unable to grasp why aside from his banishment and the brutal punishment from his own father. You were in his very bones and soul. He could live with you just as his friend if that’s what you wanted. He just couldn’t live with not telling you. Couldn’t go on thinking he might die and never get to tell you how he felt and how horribly sorry he was for everything.

Sorry you had to meet him and be hurt by him. Sorry his own Nation was the way it was. So very sorry he loved you so deeply despite being so young and new to such feelings.

“Do you truly mean what you said?”, you say after some fast marching into a quiet and far off area of the beach. 

A few waves crashed here and there as he stared into your eyes, searching for something, anything to make sense of this.The salty air filled his lungs, mingling in with your own soft scent.

“Answer me.”, you say, impatient.

“Wh- of course I- why are you asking? I apologized- I shouldn’t have-”

“I’m not asking for an apology. I want a serious straight answer. Did you mean that?”

You looked determined and he’s not sure what for. Regardless, he braces himself for a smack to the face, “I did.”

You stare at him, unmoving for a few long beats of silence. “Okay.”

“...Okay?”

You nod, “Okay.”

Zuko is thoroughly confused. Okay what? What was this all about? Were you mad or not- he sees you raise your hands up quickly. He wonders if you’re going to hit him or bend at him- maybe shake the hell out of him. He probably deserved it, but you didn’t do that.

You reached up, held his face so softly in his face. The softest caress he’d ever felt in his life. Your small smile matched it perfectly.

“You just don’t learn do you?”

He couldn’t even question what you meant. He wasn’t given the time or even a chance. In a split second you had him swirling. Quicker than he could see, your lips were on his. Gentle as ever, capturing his in the sweetest way..

“ Yᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏɴᴇʟʏ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴍᴇ..”

Pt.7

[kissmyassloves]

The Selected Enola Holmes: Chapter Three (3)

Fair warning! This fic is not mine. It belongs to my frined ‘multifandomkingdom’ on AO3. I asked her to write it and thankfully she said yes Heres the link if you want to read it there. Enjoy! https://archiveofourown.org/works/27004441/chapters/65919898

Enola observed. It was one of the things she did best, after all. And right now, the recipient of her observation was Prince Reese's mother, Queen Athena. She had just joined her and the rest of the selected in the great room, and for what? Enola had yet to figure out. To be fair, she had just gotten there. But this was all Enola knew of her.

 The Queen was generally beloved by the people. Warm but reserved. She was the epitome of grace, composure, and regality. She said plenty with few words. And she was a traditionalist who was sometimes willing to bend for modernity's (her son's) sake. Enola had seen her for the first time today, and she politely greeted the selected as she sat down with a book. She had looked slightly guarded, but that was a mystery Enola would try to refrain from cracking.

  The girls around her had been practically gawking and attempting to make themselves presentable to who may become their future mother-in-law. And the thought made her realize something. She had read somewhere that Queen Athena had had trouble conceiving in the past. And that Reese was nothing short of a miracle baby. So Enola was beginning to understand why she looked so guarded. The daughter she never had may have been in this room, and she didn't want to be disappointed or show favoritism in case the one she would have wanted wasn't her son's choice. And so, in such little time, Enola had started to view her with new eyes. Because another thing Enola can now add to her personal knowledge of her majesty was the fact that she was also a tender, wise soul. And she hadn't even said a word to her yet. So much for that refrain earlier.

  The near-silence didn't last long as one of the girls, January, decided that she wanted to spark a conversation with the Queen. January was the type that naturally loved to hear herself speak. An ambitious girl, of course, but one who was so self-interested that she was oblivious to how negatively she was perceived. She was beautiful, so at least there was that. But so was just about every other selected girl that surrounded Enola. And Enola was willing to bet that January would be one of the first to go. Queen Athena was really an expert on exercising patience and maintaining a pleasant face because she listened to January with little to no input other than a polite response here and there. However, Enola could acknowledge that though January was many things, she also sort of got the conversation ball rolling. The others were starting to formulate ways to involve themselves in the growing talk, and not long after, they gathered on the floor in a semi-circle at the foot of the Queen's chair.

  Enola kept a small distance, but even she was invested in what the Queen had to say. And she had to admit, it was nice to just be a girl and listen to advise that by her standards was shocking when it came from someone like a Queen. But then she had to remind herself that Queen Athena came from relative poverty until she had won the selection and married the then Prince Dixon. She wasn't a stranger to the experience of being underprivileged and so her advice mirrored that of a person who has seen the world in a multitude of ways. Enola could admire that. 

  After a period of comfortable discussion (and more reading on Enola's part), she had heard an audible chorus of gasps and felt a shift in the air. Excitement spiked it now. She looked up to see the girls facing someone, and following their vision, she spotted a well-dressed Reese by the massive frame doors. He greeted the selected and kissed his grinning mother on the cheek with a pleasant and urbane smile.

  "So sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to stop by and say hello to you lovely ladies before you all begin to get ready for the interviews that will introduce you to the rest of the country and subsequently the world. No pressure, by the way,"

 He was met with light giggling in response. He surveyed the room subtly with a small smile and momentarily locked eyes with a smirking Enola. She could've sworn she saw his smile stretch just a little as he looked at her. And he continued,

 "Well, that was just about all I have time to do for now. Forgive me for being so brief."

January had other plans, though, and with a flirtatious simper, she retorted

 "So soon? We've only just gotten to see you. Stay with us a little longer; what's the harm?" 

 See? Ambitious.

 And January had inadvertently reminded Enola that she had a point.  This  was actually the first time that the rest of the selected had gotten to meet the prince. Enola had to remember that though she and Reese were already acquainted, that wasn't the same for everyone else. Reese glanced at his amused mother and then at Enola briefly and took January's slight eagerness in stride. Looking into her eyes and making his way towards her, he sweetly responded

 "No harm at all, in fact, it would be my pleasure. But unfortunately, we have a very tight schedule to keep. I can promise you that we shall meet again and soon." He sealed his promise with a delicate kiss on her hand.

 Huh . So Reese  could  flirt. And well too, apparently  (what? Enola could give credit where it was due).

 And she could see that the rest of the girls were now covertly staring daggers behind their books and fans at January, who was too intoxicated by her good fortune to care. Enola found it all rather amusing, to be honest. 

 And if she had been paying less attention, she may have missed the slight but subtle tug Reese gave his ear as he smiled and glanced at her before making his exit.

[inkformyblood]

hold my ground

Commander Cody Week 2021 Day 05: Rest & Recovery @commandercodyweek

Pairing: Mace Windu x C2224 | Cody (mutual pining)

Summary: This wasn’t the mission either of them had been expecting, but it was still a welcome moment of relieft.

The soft calls of birds — a never repeating discordant melody — filled Cody’s mind, mingling with the remnants of his barely remembered dreams. He kept his eyes closed as he listened, letting his breaths slow and deepen until he was hovering on the edge of slumber once more. 

A faint movement reached him, the unbelievably soft mattress muting the sensation, and Cody was moving before he could think. His spine cracked as he pushed himself up, levelling the blaster at the perceived threat.

Mace Windu’s face curved into the barest fraction of a smile, before slipping back into calm serenity, seemingly unphased by the blaster levelled over his heart. “Peace, Commander. I apologise for waking you.”

“General. I—“ Cody’s apology died on his lips as his gaze locked onto the ring the General still wore, almost proudly. It was a simple item, barely more than a few spare wires braided together into a haphazard circle. Cody’s thumbs still bore the slowly healing wounds it inflicted upon him when the ship lurched while entering atmo. “You’re still wearing the ring.”

Mace blinked before tipping his head and hand in unison — every movement graceful and felt like it was planned like the slow bending of an ancestral oak — to inspect it. “I am. Given the… unusual circumstances of this particular diplomatic mission, I thought it best to maintain.”

He paused, his gaze seeming to slip beneath Cody’s blacks and run over the jagged edges of his soul. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’m more than happy to take it off when we are alone.”

Cody felt his thoughts stop, crashing into each other like a speeder pile-up. “No.”

The word was out before he could stop it, and he felt his cheeks burn but he couldn’t look away. There was a steady beat in the back of his mind that he couldn’t fully ignore, a senseless repetition of ‘mine’.

“It’ll help the mission,” Cody tried, his voice holding steady even as his heart twisted like it was trying to break free in his chest. 

“I appreciate your company on this mission, Commander. Even with it’s,” Mace paused, something akin to a grin tugging at the edge of his lips, “unusual circumstances.”

“Unusual is one way of putting it, sir.”

Cody felt like he had barely managed to keep his footing: stumbling into the barracks on Coruscant for a well-needed break between missions before Ponds had run in, dragging Cody out towards the docking bay, barely pausing to breathe as he rattled off a mission briefing. Then he had been nudged towards a ship — a diplomatic vessel, built for comfort rather than a war, and Cody’s skin had prickled at the thought, immediately ill at ease.

He had barely had time to recover from the gut punch of having his leave cancelled in favour of a specialised protective detail, then Mace Windu settling himself onto one of the ridiculously plush seats next to him, and they were away.

“Yes.” Mace stretched, settling back into the loose limbed meditative pose that all the Jedi seemed to favour. Cody raised himself up onto his knees, the sunlight that flooded in through the large window on the wall behind him warming his skin, and merely watched the steady rise and fall of Mace’s chest, unconsciously matching the rhythm with his own breaths. 

“I fear we may be missing some crucial information from the dossier. I appreciate that this isn’t what you were expecting, Commander, but I am glad for the company.” 

Cody didn’t allow himself to blush, merely nodding with a sharp jerk of his head, as Mace began to meditate. His silent vigil wasn’t discussed, as Cody watched the slow creep of light illuminated the deep bronze of his skin, the clone’s hand remaining next to his blaster as they listened to the sounds of the world waking up around them. 

A wave of deep calm settled in Cody’s chest, and he closed his eyes for a moment, letting his turn towards what it would be like after the war. It would be similar to this, warm and soft around the edges, but that was where his thoughts came to an abrupt end, teetering on the edge of the unknown.

He couldn’t imagine what he had never known.

“I believe our hosts will be collecting us in a moment,” Mace murmured, his eyes still closed, and Cody found himself jolted back into the present. He felt strangely naked without his armour, only wearing his blacks, as he stood, methodically checking his blaster and the blades he kept tucked in easy reach. 

Mace moved to stand, and Cody stepped forward, offering his arm to the other man as support. The other man’s grip was steady, and he squeezed Cody’s arm once in silent thanks as the door chimed, signalling the arrival of one of their hosts. 

They remained close together as they walked to the small hall, their hands brushing together every so often, and each time brought a fresh, furious blush to Cody’s face, causing his heart to skip a beat in his chest. He thought he would be able to handle this, to keep maintaining the same level of denial that he even had a crush that half the vod also possessed, but his carefully constructed control was slipping further every second. 

The air slowly became filled with the scent of fresh bread, a strange almost syrupy sweetness and, lingering beneath them, a spicy scent that set Cody’s blood humming in his veins. He turned his head slightly, searching for the source, and caught the edge of a look of indescribable softness that filtered over Mace’s face before it disappeared once more. 

“I believe,” Mace murmured, looping his arm through Cody’s without breaking stride, and the clone’s heart simply stopped even as his body continued moving out of reflex, “that we should only be here for a day cycle. I would like to apologise for the length of the meetings we will likely be subjected to.”

“It’s no trouble, sir.”

“It was suggested by another Council member that armour could be swapped to allow you to keep your break, while Ponds provided a distraction.” 

Cody couldn’t help the twist of disgust that pulled at his face, a shudder at the idea rattling up his spine. Natborns didn’t understand, couldn’t understand why that was nearly unthinkable to the clones. Pieces of their armour could be gifted as a mark of trust, a clear show of affection with one of the only things they could own, and yet, wearing another clone’s armour in the way natborns borrowed clothing was disrespectful. It would have felt like he was wearing another person’s skin, losing himself in them.

Mace continued, his tone softer. “Yes, Commander Fox made the argument that it would not be a well-liked course of action, and made the suggestion for you to go in Ponds’ place.”

Cody was torn between the urge to thank Fox the next time he saw him or to punch him. Ever since he had settled into a relationship of sorts with Ponds, the other man couldn’t help but meddle in the way that only the Command track vode could. Fox and Ponds both took after Prime, content together even as they looked at their brothers and the romance novels that served as black market currency with a sense of mild confusion.

“I’m happy to serve, sir.”

Mace frowned, but didn’t get the chance to speak before a new problem presented itself. 

“Ah.” 

“Sir?” Cody scanned the room, taking in the low tables, almost groaning beneath the heavy bounty of food set on top of them, noting the strange configuration of their hosts: one sitting curled atop the other. 

“The briefing mentioned that there is a very strict binary of roles, categorised as peacekeeper and protector by our standards, hence the ring.” Mace kept his voice low as he steered Cody towards one of the tables at their host’s gentle urging. “In times of war, the protectors guard the peacekeepers and in times of peace, the peacekeepers care for the protectors.”

“Sir?” Cody couldn’t think, could barely move under his own steam. It felt like he had fallen into one of the over-dramatised holos that always seemed to be streaming whenever he got a moment of downtime. 

“You are a good man, Commander. I don’t want to ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“General, sir. It wouldn’t be a hardship.” He meant every word. Cody knew that looking after the Jedi was just another part of his training, but Mace Windu was different. 

The grin he received in response was blinding.

“Glad to hear it.”

The first thought that made its way through the shocked and silent fog in Cody’s mind as Mace sat on the cushion, pulling Cody down onto his lap, was that the other man was warm. Through the heavy robes he wore, heat pressed against Cody’s back and the curve of his shoulders like sinking into a warm bath back on Coruscant. 

It felt like every ounce of blood in his body was burning through his cheeks, the heat of the blush trailing down his neck and across his chest. 

“What?” Cody managed to spit out from behind gritted teeth, barely able to believe what was happening. 

“Peacekeepers care for the protectors,” Mace said, his voice rumbling through Cody’s chest. While he couldn’t see the Jedi’s face, Cody knew he was grinning once more. It was an expression he wanted to see more of, to watch it unfold again and again and again in all it’s variations like a sunrise.

“I feel like I’m a shiny,” Cody muttered, making a reflexive half-hearted attempt to twist away, embarrassment and longing burning bright in his chest like twin suns.

“You’re certainly squirming enough to be a shiny,” Mace chuckled, settling his chin on top of Cody’s head as he stared out at the room, and Cody settled, remembering the deep calm of the mediation, his heart slowing in his chest as they breathed in unison. The moment wouldn’t last, but they would enjoy it while it did.

[cinephiles-delight]

The Killing Joke: What Arthur Fleck Finds So Funny

     Just as any other film, television series, animation, or comic book produced after The Dark Knight, Joker (and specifically Joaquin Phoenix’s performance) will necessarily be held up against what has come to be accepted as the gold standard of Heath Ledger’s unsettling and timeless portrayal of the clown prince of crime.  While I could argue the merits of both legendary actor’s turns filling the shoes of Mister J in terms of performance, technique, etc., what I find infinitely more interesting is to examine the shift in the philosophical stance of the character between the two screen incarnations.

     The general consensus amongst fans and critics alike is that Ledger’s Joker was a searing satire of and critique on the orderly, structured world he saw around him: people behaving in manners that conformed to paper-thin ethical standards that would degrade in the face of overwhelming pressure.  He claims–as the Killing Joke Joker did–that “all it takes is a little push” for people to abandon their moral sentiments and revert to sheer self-interest and chaos.  Ledger’s Joker was essentially fulfilling the archetype of the trickster god, reminiscent of Bugs Bunny or Loki, who wants to demonstrate the absurdity of the rules to those who consider themselves beholden to them by trapping said people in logical and moral puzzles that are a direct result of the contradictions inherent in the system: loopholes, if you will.  His fulfillment of the archetype is demonstrated by the final ferry sequence, the money burning, the Rachel/Harvey choice, etc.

     Phoenix’s Joker, on the other hand, comes across as rather motiveless and random, denying us even an albeit twisted logic by which to understand his actions and thought processes: he kills for sport, for vengeance, in retribution for real or imagined slights, or quite simply because he thinks it’s funny.  He rejects the idea that society even functions on a set of shared rules, and takes the absurdity of the system as grounds for refuting it’s existence entirely.  In this Phoenix becomes the pure nihilist Joker: the archetypal drifter-killer with no agenda and no reason to explain his madness and violence–just rage, insanity, and a freedom from ties to any sense of morality at all.  The degree to which this philosophy was brought to the character even on the level of acting cues can be seen in Phoenix’s tendency as Arthur Fleck to break into spontaneous and chaotic pseudo-dances at seemingly inappropriate or even random times–here, both the cause of the action and the action itself lack an internal logic by which to understand them.

     While claiming to be the ultimate embodiment of chaos, Ledger’s Joker could never truly live up to that epithet, because in attempting to use the contradictions of humanity’s purported civilization and societal rules to prove their own absurdity, he reifies their existence.  We see Ledger’s Joker engage in such behavior several times in The Dark Knight, for example in the scene where Ledger kidnaps the characters of Rachel and Harvey Dent, demanding that Batman make the terrible decision to save one and let the other die.  Ledger’s Joker believes that he has constructed an impossible situation in order to demonstrate to Batman that making value judgements of one human life against another are ultimately arbitrary, and that no matter the outcome the agent’s choice cannot, by human standards, be a moral action.  However in doing so he both acknowledges the role of the value of human life in public consciousness and seems to, by utilizing the contradictions of utilitarianism, reaffirm its salience.  On the opposite side of the equation, Phoenix’s Joker simply denies the existence of rules or governing moral principles altogether, and quite simply doesn’t care what anyone else thinks.

     Ledger’s Joker fails in his own nihilistic agenda by adopting an agenda in the first place.  By striving to win over others (namely Batman) to his point of view, he implicitly acknowledges that there exists a superior and objectively correct point of view: his.  Whereas in Joker, we see Arthur completely forgo any intentionally malicious scheming designed to manipulate humans into defying their own moral codes; he instead simply chooses to ignore their existence altogether, operating as he wishes when he wishes with no thought as to the decency or civility of his actions (though paradoxically he does blame the lack of civility in society for contributing to his crumbling psyche).  Arthur doesn’t try to convince anybody of anything, because ultimately he doesn’t think it matters.  The only person he ever even appears to “lecture” to, Murray, he kills at the conclusion of his speech!  This suggests that his entire ostensibly “rhetorical” outburst on the show was more of a twisted confession in search of or as a completion of his process of personal catharsis than any attempt to demonstrate to others the depravity of society.

     For these reasons I–personally–think that Joaquin Phoenix and Todd Phillips delivered a much scarier and much more existentially horrifying Joker than Ledger and Nolan ever did.  Ledger defied our understanding of right and wrong, but did so within a conventional framework, playing by the rules.  Arthur Fleck simply refuses to even admit the existence of a system in the first place, playing a game unbeholden to a rule system of any kind, lacking even the slightest veneer of an internal logic.  It is that which makes our blood run cold.

     Now there are those who would claim that Arthur Fleck isn’t a proper nihilist, and that he’s actually just a depraved psychopath with an ill-formed mind and the means to kill.  They would cite, for example, that almost all of his killings stem from personal slights against him: the boys who mocked him on the subway, his mother who did nothing to stop his father’s abusing him, Murray who mocked him on the show, Randall who tried to get him fired, etc.  I think the answer to this protest boils down to the fact that while those may be the primary “motives” for his violent acts, this logic fails to comment on how Arthur perceives the morality of his actions.  

     While you could argue that Arthur feels “justified” in his killings because of the wrongs these people have inflicted against him, the more correct answer lies elsewhere.  The impetus for his killing may very well be the instinctual feelings of indignation, rage, and hurt pride that accompany the pernicious acts of those around him, but he doesn’t view his killings as morally good.  He doesn’t even view them as justified: he just thinks they’re funny.  Consider the example of the drunk yuppie Wayne Enterprises boys that Arthur guns down on the subway.  In his interview with Murray, Arthur admits that he finds the boys’ deaths to be incredibly funny, and as a principle reason for the humor he cites this: the boys were mourned and wept over because they were affluent, because they were Wayne employees, because Thomas Wayne mourned them on the news.  But if it were Arthur that was gunned down on the sidewalk, he asks us to consider how many of us would simply walk right over him (a line written down in his journal right above the “cents” joke).  What he seems to find so overwhelmingly funny about this is that it’s a crystallization of the fact that humanity is all tied up in a grand, cosmic joke that, because he is removed from it, Arthur can find humor in.  The “joke”, in his eyes, is humanity’s use of moral codes as a way to define proper and improper manners of living.  He posits that if such moral codes did, in fact, exist then they would command those obedient to them to answer Arthur’s question by stating that they would mourn his death just the same as that of the rich boys.  But of course… this isn’t what happens.  And so Arthur laughs.  The parable of the drunk subway boys reveals humanity’s willingness to bend, break, and ignore morality when it is convenient for them to do so.  The irony here is that the inescapable conclusion to be drawn from this malleability of right and wrong is that there is no such thing.  But Arthur is the only one who can see this.  So in his final line of the film, he very simply responds to the psychiatrist’s request to hear his joke with the only answer he can give: “you wouldn’t get it”.

     Many critics have bashed Joker for coming off as meandering or even aimless, which I think is really a pointless criticism of a movie fundamentally about pointlessness.  If we judge a film as “good” only by its slavish narrative devotion to character-driven causality, then a character piece about a fundamental moral nihilist with no reasoning or motivation to define his actions by must necessarily appear to be a slow, meaningless, or even boring movie.  They claim that because Arthur seems to have an incoherent or rambling view of society which he is impotent to express–save for in the sad, impish ramblings of a madman masking profundity in a child’s vocabulary–the film lacks purpose and fails to take a definite stance on contemporary issues/state of affairs.  This argument is nonsensical, like trying to use a ruler to measure the passage of time: it’s a faulty metric.  The film, barring a few instances (everything with regards to the pharmaceutical industry and treatment of mental illness), on the whole isn’t trying to say anything about modern Western society: it’s a micro-level examination of how a man could come to completely abandon every moral tenet we hold dear, including belief in the existence of moral tenets at all.

     Finally, I’d like to make an interesting observation with regards to the motif of that one particular staircase that Arthur must climb to reach his apartment building.  At the opening of the film Arthur trudges his way up the staircase: it’s nighttime and the scene is lit with various cool, blue hues reflecting the depths of his depression and feelings of hopelessness.  As he struggles to reach the top of the stairs he clutches in his hand a bag of prescriptions, literally weighing him down.  What we’re presented with via this striking mise en scene is the portrait of a mentally ill man trying desperately to conform to the behavioral and emotional expectations of a society that was not designed for the mentally ill.  His medications, representative of his struggle to maintain a normal life, become the literal and emotional baggage that he must carry through his days.  As he writes in his journal: “the worst part about having a mental illness is that people expect you to behave as if you don’t”.  However, when Arthur finally completes his transformation and adopts the persona of the Joker, letting go of his desire to fit into a world that never had a place for him, opting to remove himself from its laws completely, we see him return to this very same staircase and his demeanor is completely changed.  This time it’s in the middle of the day: the sun is shining down brightly and warmly on Arthur–himself dressed in resplendent red, yellow, and orange hues–as he literally dances down the stairs, letting gravity do the work for him.  A literal, visual interpretation of Heath Ledger’s Joker’s claim that “madness is like gravity”.  This representation of insanity as a journey of mental emancipation is reflected in both The Dark Knight and the comic The Killing Joke, where in the latter the Joker specifically refers to insanity as: “the emergency exit on life… You can just step outside and close the door on all those dreadful things that happened”.  The Killing Joke Joker frames insanity as a letting go, as a liberation from the difficulties of life and an induction into a new, unrestricted way of living. This is exactly the transformation that Arthur undergoes throughout the course of Joker–living is no longer a chore…  it’s a dance.

[shirlleycoyle]

Found: Page 25 of the CIA’s Gateway Report on Astral Projection

Page 25 of the CIA’s “Analysis and Assessment of The Gateway Process” hitched a ride with an email one evening and landed in my inbox. A digital attachment felt like an unceremonious entrance for a document that was produced 38 years ago and has been missing and highly sought after since it was declassified in 2003. For years, people had been filing FOIA requests and speculating about what was on this missing page in the middle of a mind-bending report about military research into astral projection and other dimensions. And then, there it was, just downloaded on to my desktop quietly looking back at me. My immediate reaction was frenetic; I couldn’t chill out long enough to properly read the rogue text. I called a few friends to ensure my reality was synched properly—a telephonic pinch to verify I was awake. All signs pointed to mostly. I double clicked the file.

Let’s get into it.

Screengrab: CIA

A Whirlwind Backstory 

I published a breakdown of the CIA’s Gateway Report in February. The classified 1983 document was produced by US Army Lieutenant Colonel Wayne M. McDonnell, with a technical power-assist from mastermind Israeli-American biomedical engineer Itzhak Bentov. The report was declassified in 2003. It packs a tour-de-force investigation into the potential achievability of astral projection into 28 hyper-dense pages. A spectre has hung over the report since. The version released by the CIA was missing what seems to be an extremely crucial page. 

IMAGE: SPECTRAL-DESIGN VIA GETTY IMAGES]

For the uninitiated, astral projection is mostly interchangeable with the psycho-physical phenomena of out-of-body experiences and remote viewing. With the right guidance and technologies, astral projectors believe, we can train our consciousness to move beyond the confines of the space-time dimension. This super-ability frees our human minds to travel through the universe, exploring an endless array of normally imperceptible realities and dimensions. 

McDonnell states early in the report that his goal was to "construct a scientifically valid and reasonably lucid model of how consciousness functions" in order to put "out-of-body states into the language of physical science to remove the stigma of its occult connotations."

The Department of Defense's ambitions are made clear in the report's conclusion: McDonnell suggests that if the military were to experiment with astral projection, it could find "practical application," but also noted that it should "be intellectually prepared to react to possible encounters with intelligent, non-corporeal energy forms when time-space boundaries are exceeded." It kicked off years of attempts by the US Army to train psychic soldiers to conduct “remote viewing” missions to regions across the world. 

Image: CIA

A Cosmic Mystery

The report is a vicious mind labyrinth. For 24 pages, it winds its way through the spiritual and scientific underpinnings, techniques to achieve and potential applications of space-time transcendence. It introduces methodological frames of reference like hypnosis, transcendental meditation, spiritual belief systems, biofeedback, quantum physics, and universal holograms only so that its intended audience—CIA top brass—might merely begin to grasp its (and our) bigger reason for being. By the bottom of page 24, McDonnell reaches a full existential crescendo, broaching the very nature of reality itself. It’s a cliff-hanger:

Image: CIA

And then … the report skips to page 26. 

As if he hadn’t just side-stepped revealing the secrets of the heavens, McDonnell is on to a set of pragmatic “Motivational Aspects” for why the CIA might employ the Gateway as opposed to other methods of achieving astral projection.

Image: CIA

Expediency Wayne? Really?

Since the report's declassification, countless FOIA requests have been filed demanding page 25’s release. In every instance, the CIA has denied they ever had it in the first place. Page 25, then, has been the holy grail not just for would-be astral projectors, but also for conspiracy theorists, government transparency activists, and people who have simply read the report and found themselves maddened by this missing information.

Image: CIA Foia response

One fantastic internet theory maintains that McDonnell omitted the page intentionally. If someone could successfully astral project they’d be able to tell him what’s on it. 

Contact

The CIA did not invent the Gateway Report and the Gateway Experience on its own. It used teachings from a man named Robert Monroe, who later founded an organization called The Monroe Institute.  

Four days after we published the first article about the Gateway Report, I received a note from The Monroe Institute. They had some ideas for a follow-up piece. Drowning in responses to the article though, I failed to return their email. They reached out again. This time their message was more concrete: Sitting buried in the Monroe Institute archives in Faber, Virginia, was page 25 of The Gateway Report. But it didn't come to us easily.

Our first scheduled phone call included The Monroe Institute’s CEO, COO and marketing division. Motherboard Editor-in-Chief Jason Koebler and I got on a Google Hangout. 

In that call, the Institute said that they had Page 25. People had been trying to obtain the report from the CIA and had repeatedly failed. But no one had bothered to ask them for the report; they'd had it all along. At one point, they described the report as having been "in a barn," unexamined, for all of these years. Otherwise, the call was uninspired. The CEO didn’t show. After an hour run-around it became evident that The Institute wasn’t going to part with Page 25 without some carefully orchestrated marketing plan. The words of COO Lori Jacobwith made their purpose clear, “We’re attempting to capitalize on some of the enthusiasm by a market that isn’t our normal age group.” 

The institute was hoping to tap into the popularity of our first article, as well as some viral TikToks about the report.

The call ended with “You’ve touched on some things we are not talking about right now.” 

The Institute then went quiet. Time passed. 

One evening, the Monroe Institute’s Director of Marketing & Communications Jenny Whedbee emailed again. She'd been silent on our last call. The email contained the full Gateway Report including the missing page. She wrote that they’d just “went through a major org change.” The CEO and COO were no longer with the company. She was now down to talk, after we had read page 25.

The Missing Page

In the true spirit of discovery, I am pleased to present the full uninterrupted report in all its glory.  

The page opens with the word “Absolute.” It sits there authoritatively, as if guarding the gate to the rest of the text. In the broader context of the report the term is applied to both spiritual belief systems and quantum physics alike. It's an important word. 

Physicists define time as a measurement of energy in motion. In this way, time is really a measurement of change. In order for that motion to occur though, it must be limited inside a larger vibratory pattern. Inside this framework it is limited, contained at a specific location. That confinement then makes it distinguishable from other locations in space. Uncontained energy is force without limit. Imagine a formless entity speeding through the galaxy with no friction to hold it back from being everywhere. As McDonnell puts it “There is no 'here' to differentiate it from 'there.'” And this, my friends, is an absolute state or “The Absolute.” 

According to the report, the Absolute is essentially the governing energy of the Universe en masse. It powers the universal hologram that is all of entirety. The report makes multiple attempts to visualize this universal hologram or “cosmic egg” as one big constantly flowing spiral. 

Screengrab: CIA

Between the reality we know and The Absolute are countless intervening dimensions, McDonnell writes, which is pretty trippy stuff for a government report. Absolute is the ceiling (as far as we know it). End of the line, and a hell of a way to open a missing page.

McDonnell observes that a “stylized representation” of this spiral is present in every religious system in history. He cites the specific examples of Christianity’s Holy Spirit, the Hellenic world’s labyrinth, the Hebrew Tree of Life, its Hindu counterpart, and the Chinese Spiral Through the Four Powers. This thinking has found its way into each systems’ teachings. 

The crucial distinction between the breakthroughs in modern physics and the epiphanies of religious thinkers is the way they all found The Absolute. Whereas physics leans on quantitative research, religions relied on intuition. The Gateway then sort of showed up just in time—a holistic mainline for “interfacing” with the universal hologram, freeing us from the limitations of a left brain logic-based culture. 

The page’s third section takes a slant which should feel familiar to adherents of modern psychology. The universe, the Absolute, the cosmic egg. All of it is irrelevant, and certainly unreachable, until we possess knowledge of ourselves. My eyes, upon first glance of page 25, picked up “The Absolute” first, then darted swiftly to the aphorism McDonnell trots out here— “Know Thyself.” What hits even harder than achieving a psychological self-understanding, according to McDonnell, is the sense of self-perception achieved when one can manage to alter their state of consciousness to the point where the universal hologram itself can be perceived. 

And it’s The Gateway Experience, McDonnell says, that promises this possibility. 

Images: The Monroe Institute

Achieving Hemi-Sync

Key to the report and technique for achieving astral projection is an audio technology developed by Robert Monroe, a radio broadcasting executive who, in the 1970s, built an R&D division inside his company solely to study the effects of sound on human consciousness. 

In a series of self-experiments in which he exposed himself to carefully calibrated audio frequencies while sleeping, Monroe repeatedly achieved elevated mind-body states. His 1971 book Journeys Out of The Body documents those early investigations and officially coined the term “out-of-body experience.”

Books by Robert Monroe

Monroe’s corporate R&D division eventually became The Monroe Institute, which produces tapes containing audio techniques to stimulate brain functions and achieve “Hemi-Sync.” Hemi-Sync is short for hemispheric synchronization, and is instrumental in achieving a state of consciousness in which the electrical brain patterns of both left and right hemispheres are equal in amplitude and frequency. 

It does so by combining two techniques. The first is Frequency Following Response—a recognized external frequency is introduced by headphones, which causes the brain “to try to mimic the same frequency by adjusting its brainwave output.” For instance, a resting brain that hears a Theta level will shift out of its Beta level. The second technique is beat frequency. Contrasting frequencies are introduced to each ear. The brain then “chooses to “hear” the difference between them.” A brain receiving 100hz through the right ear and 104hz through the left, can then detect the delta, in this case a 4hz frequency. The technique then opens the brain to “a variety of frequencies which are played at a virtually subliminal, marginally audible level.”

With the left brain relaxed and the body in a virtual sleep state, according to the report, the conditions are ideal to promote brainwave outputs of higher and higher amplitude and frequency. When the wave pattern of a consciousness drops below an oscillation frequency of 10 to the power of -33 centimeters per second, for a brief instant it “clicks out” of space-time and joins infinity. Monroe’s theories maintain that if that “click-out” can achieve continuity you can begin dialoguing with other dimensions. 

Image: CIA

The Monroe Institutes’s chief engineer today is Bob Holbrook. A former events producer, Holbrook believes the Monroe Institute's audio offerings helped him rehab from head trauma sustained in a brutal car accident. The Hemi-Sync technology featured in The Gateway Report was sold to a company now called Hemi-Sync®. The audio technology stack The Institute now produces—collectively called Monroe Audio Support (MAS)—is a hugely evolved version of the original binaural beats-based technique. As Bob puts it, “Binaural beats was just one technology, now we have 50.” This widens and populates the spectrum of experience for participants. “MAS takes the idea of binaural beats and utilizes many other “colors” and technologies to create more intense experiences in different levels of consciousness.” A key MAS ingredient is gamma synchrony. “It allows us to connect much more easily to 'all that is,'” he said. Two additional innovations play a central role—Phase Modulation and Amplitude Modulation. Phase Modulation changes the direction from which a sound feels like it’s coming from. Bob shared an audio-visual animation illustrating sound source oscillation. 

Amplitude Modulation gives technicians the capability to drop into the soundscape live and manipulate specific aspects of the volume. 

The Institute shared a 30-minute sample of their newer programming for this article. Headphones are essential for full results. 

The Monroe Institute’s tapes combined these frequencies with subliminal suggestions from Monroe himself. An archive titled “The Explorer Series” contains recordings of the Monroe Institute Research Division’s experiments, in which subjects “report from these non-physical environments.”

Up until COVID, all meditators physically travelled to The Monroe Institute’s palatial headquarters in Faber, Virginia to work through a series of increasingly challenging levels. The 7-day course offers the possibility for one’s consciousness to navigate space, time, and beyond. That is, if you’ve got what it takes. 

It’s these tapes and their potential applications that caught the attention of the CIA and prompted the commission of the report. 

The Monroe Institute Today

After I read page 25, I called Jenny Whedbee back up.

She said Monroe is an organization that was trying to find its way in an ever-shifting world. “There’s a part of this organization that definitely needs to grow, but it needs to grow at a pace that keeps with the tenets of who we are,” she said. The importance of listening to where an organization comes from before deciding on a future was a theme. “If you don’t have the input from people who have been here a while, then you’re not really staying true to what the Institute is.”

Paramount to staying that course is the guiding light of its influential founder Robert Monroe. “We’ve had a lot of executives come and go. I know Robert Monroe is still here and still trying to run things,” she said. 

It’s this pioneering energy that powers her enthusiasm. In reference to their newer classes, she explained, “Gateway Voyage is primarily the same exact program that Robert Monroe developed. And so is Lifeline, Exploration 27, Guidelines. Those core programs, he actually worked on and developed.” 

“It puts you into direct experience with expanded states of consciousness where you can explore and ask questions and receive answers and visit past lives," she said. "You can astral travel.”

These programs are grueling. Participants go through five or six exercises a day for five straight days. “It’s like running a marathon,” she said. 

Jenny joined the company without much experience in consciousness elevation but swiftly got the feel for things. “It did exactly what the course said it was going to do," she said. "I experienced past lives. It gave me this 20,000-foot view of my life. Not just this one, but previous and future.” 

“If you want the rocket ship where your life is forever enlightened, you’re not going to get that any other way than coming here,” she said. 

The conversation with Jenny eventually turned to page 25. 

“I have my own interpretation," she said. "Whether it was accidentally or intentionally left out I don’t know. Like I said there are people that work in this place that are on another plane and not here in the physical.”

For Jenny, the page appeared at the right time and place. “I feel like 20 years ago the world wasn’t ready to hear. But this generation is ready.” She says the institute changed her life.

“You grow up, you go to school, you get married, you have kids, you go to church, you die," she said. "And your life lives on through your family. There is value there. But on a much deeper level it’s the relationships and the memories you create. Not all this stuff we’re collecting. So what if that page was released 20 years ago? Could it have backlashed? Cause it talks about religion and that all religions are equal. And what if people feel really powerfully that not all religions are equal. I feel like the generations nowadays, they’re not so wrapped up in that anymore."

Jenny said that young people today are pushing for social justice and are more open to different perceptions of consciousness and different ways of living. "There’s this whole thing going on where people are awakening," she said. "People become more conscious, people become more awakened—tearing down the monuments in Richmond. Enough’s enough. This has come about at a time when your generation has questions and they want to know and they’re ready to hear the answers without judgment.”

“TikTok happened, you happened, all this happened for a very important reason that’s not of this physical plane,” she said. 

Jenny concluded our hour-long conversation with a suggestion for how to handle page 25. “Do something with it. You know even if it’s you just saying what it means to you.”

[Hold my beer]

A Consciousness Feedback Loop 

The Gateway Report is so dense in parts, it compromises its own accessibility. The goal of my initial synthesis was to create a written and visual experience (including, ahem, some premium custom graphics) that might help folks without a PHD in quantum physics benefit from its huge thinking. 

It struck a nerve. 

Over the course of a 3-week period, millions of readers made their way through an admittedly arduous editorial obstacle course. Studios reached out. 

Two days after the article’s release, we inserted an invitation: 

“Have you had an experience with The Monroe Institute, Hemi-Sync or had an out-of-body experience? Get in touch: ex0gene5i5@substack.com” 

Thousands of emails came in from folks all over the world who described their out-of-body experiences. To me, it signaled the possibility that many of us are searching for something more than what seems currently available. To describe my experience in telling this story and the search in many senses, I produced a visual reinterpretation of page 25.

The Gateway. Image: Thobey Campion

'The Gateway' is a high-resolution digital image of a print of the missing page 25 of the CIA's Gateway Report. It contains 659 digital micro-inscriptions of out-of-body experience accounts, that only become visible at 300%+ magnification.

Just look closer.

Thobey Campion is the former Publisher of Motherboard. You can subscribe to his Substack here. 

The Gateway is an NFT. Part of the proceeds go to Mind Science, a foundation that explores the mystery of human consciousness by funding the work of early-career neuroscientists.

Found: Page 25 of the CIA’s Gateway Report on Astral Projection syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[jaxsteamblog]

Blush

Click here to read the full fic on AO3

Katara stood in the garden watching as Thuy paced back and forth, a large boulder floating beside her. As she walked, Thuy chewed on her thumbnail and mumbled under her breath.

“I don’t understand the problem.” Katara said.

“I have aphantasia Katara!” Thuy cried and flung her arms out. The boulder went flying, thankfully crashing into the outer garden wall and not the palace.

“And that means?”

“It means I have no inner eye. I can’t plan anything out.” Thuy replied, her voice thin as she whined.

“No I get that. I just don’t understand why we’re terraforming.” Katara said.

“Because it has to be perfect.” Thuy froze patches on the pond to walk across, heading toward the boulder. Katara held the stepping stones of ice as she followed.

“You can just ask him.” Katara stepped onto the grass and watched as Thuy pried the boulder loose. As it popped free, she then attempted to smooth away the dent in the rock wall.

“He’s the Fire Lord. It’s a little bit different than asking people who are expecting it.” Thuy muttered.

“I just don’t think you need to go through all this trouble. Zuko would be happy to do it.”

“You haven’t seen him since he became Fire Lord. He’s all grumpy and stressed out now.”

Katara flinched at Thuy’s words. “I have seen him!”

“I meant in person.” Thuy turned and trotted back across the pond. It took a minute before Katara followed.

It was true, she hadn’t seen Zuko in the months since his coronation. She was still technically being trained, and Zuko now officially had his kingdom to run. Plus, with Ozai and Azula in prison, he was under a lot of emotional stress.

They had talked it out over their video chats, but time was scarce for both of them. Katara was only here in the Fire Nation because it was Thuy’s birthday; she had missed his birthday a few weeks prior. What felt like her attempt to make up for it, the ever romantic Thuy wasn’t kidding about what she had said in the Avatar State. She was clearly showering Zuko with her favor, and now Katara wondered how much of it was an unnecessary bribe.

A lot of people were reading into Thuy’s birthday party plans. The televised Agni Kai had in fact almost caused an international incident. The Fire Lord had openly attacked the Avatar, which was generally frowned upon. And while Zuko had triumphed, Ozai’s betrayal left a sour taste in every leader’s mouth; they had been dealing with Fire Nation turmoil for a hundred years after all.

Since the fight, Thuy was attached to Zuko. She frequently commented on their shared ancestry; his through blood and hers through reincarnation. Whenever Toph would let her off for a break, Thuy would travel to the Fire Nation to see a show or visit a beach. It had gotten to a point where rumors were flying that Zuko was set to become her official master.

Such a practice had been abolished after what happened to Kyoshi.

It was wildly unusual - the Avatar’s master was always a Bender of their birth element - and this perceived power shift made people nervous. And if Zuko was a different person, Katara could understand the fear. But as he wasn’t a sinister person, the favoritism ended up saving him since he had no interest in political machinations.

Tonight was going to upend those rumors at her birthday party. She was planning on asking Zuko to become her firebending instructor and her official residence was going to be on the literal middle ground: Avatar Island in the United Republic.

Now, Thuy was upset that the garden where her party was being held wasn’t perfect.

Katara spent hours helping her adjust the landscape as much as she could. Toph wandered out for a moment and stood on the ground, watching them in the strange way she did. Finally, after a few frustrated minutes, Toph finally walked out and started doing the heavy lifting.

The Earthbender was terse, but funny. As Thuy kept pointing out things, Toph kept reminding her that she was blind. Thuy responded by stamping her feet and yelling “YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT.”

“Do it yourself then Wet Wipe.” Toph would retort and Katara couldn’t help but laugh.

By the time the landscaping was how Thuy wanted it and she went inside to get dressed, Katara was exhausted. She and Toph sat on the deck; Katara watched the palace staff bring out tables and chairs while Toph chewed on a piece of dried grass.

“She’s a good kid.” Toph said suddenly, flicking the grass onto the ground and rubbing it into the dirt with her heel.

“She really is.” Katara agreed.

“You gotta stop babying her if you’re going to be her master though.” Toph went on.

“Me? I’m not her master.” Katara said, looking at her in confusion.

“You sure? Who else is supposed to teach her to behave all upstanding and everything?”

“That’s usually someone who knew the previous Avatar. So, probably Tenzin.” Katara shook her head. “But Avatars don’t take a master any more.”

“I think Thuy’s gonna need it. Her parents were really smart, but the world’s changing. Borders are getting weird, loyalties are shifting.” Toph stood and kicked up a small mound of dirt. “I don’t think anyone in the swamp is going to understand it.”

“And I do?”

“I think you know a lot about shifting boundaries and making unusual loyalties.” Toph remarked and turned her head. Zuko exited the palace from further down, directing people with ladders.

Putting her foot down, Toph flattened the mound without touching it.

“The girl needs a master.” She added and walked back inside.

Letting her head loll back, Katara watched the clouds pass overhead. It was still light out, even as the day stretched on. It was almost summer again.

It was a very long time ago that she worked in Sokka’s flower shop.

“What are you thinking about?” Zuko asked as his face came into view. Katara smiled and raised her arms. Zuko moved himself so that she could put her arms around his neck. He lowered his head towards hers and she kissed him.

“Do you remember the first day you saw me in the flower shop?” She asked and released him. Zuko sat down beside her and looked up at the sky himself.

“Sure. You gawked at my scar.” He said and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She sucked her teeth as he smirked.

“You gave me a snowmelt flower.” She said.

“Did I?”

“It’s my favorite flower.”

“Is it?”

“So how long have you known about me?” Katara questioned.

Zuko sat up and looked at her. Silent, he took her hands and held them in his lap.

“Sokka is really proud of you.” Zuko started, staring down at her hands. “And he would talk about you a lot. It almost felt like…”

He drifted with a light laugh before looking into her eyes. “Did you ever watch that stupid drama about a king in the Earth Kingdom and how he was tricked into marrying this lady?”

“You are going to have to smooth this over really fast Zuko.” Katara replied dryly. Zuko chuckled and lifted her hands up, kissing her knuckles.

“There’s a noble family that has gone bankrupt so they try to get their daughter married to the king. Her cousin works at the palace and talks her up to the king every day. He ends up falling in love with this hyped up mystery woman and proposes before ever meeting her.” Zuko explained.

“So Sokka talked about me so much, he tricked you into falling in love with me?” Katara asked.

“Well, not exactly. I did have a girlfriend at the time.” He said. “I just really started to like you as a person. You were a fighter, a survivor, and then you were accepted into medical school. All I ever did was sabotage my own country and serve tea.”

“Zuko, you are the strongest person I have ever met because when life kept handing you crap, you thought you deserved so you just took it.”

“You literally carry the bond of a spirit.”

“You survived what should have been a lethal burn to the face because of how connected you are to your bending.”

“You fought through three different countries trying to save your parents.”

“You fought your father and sister, who were trying to kill you, and didn’t want to hurt them.”

“I want to tell you you’re beautiful because of how much you love the rest of the world but I still get caught up in your eyes.”

“Well I can’t think about how much you love me because I’m terrified to admit I love you that much in return.”

They both stared at each other and, as if in a staring contest, Katara clenched her mouth shut. Still feeling the blood rise in her cheeks, she nonetheless saw Zuko’s face flush first.

He turned away, covering his face with his hands, and he was steaming. Katara laughed and put her hand on his back.

“Come on hun, we’ve got to get ready for the party.” She said. Zuko nodded and then rubbed his face vigorously. As he stood, he pulled Katara up.

“You are the worst.” He said. Katara patted his chest and smirked.

“Get used to it.”

~

The party went very well. The Earth King, having basically been a shut-in, related oddly well to the equally sheltered Avatar. Tenzin and the other head monks circulated through the crowd with varying degrees of success. Rohan had shaved their head for some reason, Jinora was there with her baby, and Ikki flitted about with her new husband. Meelo was sitting at a table looking forlorn, lamenting the imprisoned Azula.

Iroh had dragged the White Lotus members out and found some Fire Nation natives that were allies to sit as the Fire Nation contingent. But Katara could tell that Zuko felt alone, standing in his uncomfortable red robes and seeing so little reflected back.

There was a lot of blue. The majority of the party was actually split between green and blue; the people from Kyoshi Island jumping sides with the blue while the Swamp Tribe balanced things out in green.

All of Thuy’s planning, with Katara’s envisioning ability, turned the small garden into a meandering spot. Small hills forced people around and turned them as if they were walking through a labyrinth. It helped people talk for longer as the short distance around took more steps than first assumed.

Toph had also raised a small waterfall in the pond, using metalbending to create a vacuum system that would keep it going. Katara didn’t comment on the bending, unsure if she was supposed to know already or not. Internally, she panicked.

The effect, with the string fairy lights in the trees and softly tinkling water, was a softer place that glowed with ambient light. Around the tables stood the large torches to keep the cool spring nights at bay, but around the pond it was certainly twilight.

After the meal and with drinks being served - with Thuy trying, unsuccessfully, to get her hands on one - Zuko took Katara by the hand. They strolled around the grassy hillocks arm in arm and Katara was surprised by how quickly the noise dissipated.

“What are the customs for birthdays in your tribe?” Zuko asked suddenly. Katara turned away from the party and regarded the pond.

“There’s not a lot of ceremony that surrounds just us as humans. It’s more about celebrations of the world around us, or the spirits.” Katara replied, staring out over the water. “Things like birthdays and weddings aren’t usually very big.”

“There are rules to birthdays here.” Zuko blanched and Katara smiled to herself.

“It must be nice though, to have things like this.” She replied.

“The necklace is a North Pole custom, right? For engagements?” Zuko asked. Katara touched her neck and shrugged.

“So I’m told. But I don’t ever see me getting rid of it.” She replied.

“Modern conventions can sometimes be more fun than custom.” Zuko said.

“What does that mean?” Katara turned as she asked and found Zuko on a knee. “What.”

“We did talk about this.” He said, holding the box out.

“In theory!” Katara whispered sharply. Her throat tightened and tears stung her eyes, but she almost started to laugh. Zuko grinned up at her.

“I love you Katara. I thought up a lot of fancy words to say but right now I am so nervous and your face is so pretty.” He said as tears fell down his smiling face. Katara did laugh then, the choking laugh that comes with tears.

“I love you Zuko.” She murmured and put her fingers over her mouth.

“Will you marry me?” He asked.

Her throat sealed shut, Katara could only nod. As Zuko gasped and stood, she could see his hands shaking and she laughed again.

“Yes, of course.” She finally managed.

Zuko slid the ring on her finger and Katara jumped on him, kissing him deeply.

“WOO!” Thuy yelled and Katara laughed. They both had to wipe their faces as they walked back to the tables; everyone stood and clapped for them. Feeling the blood rush to her face, Katara put her face into Zuko’s shoulder.

“Congratulations, nephew.” Iroh said as he walked up.

“Thank you uncle.” Zuko replied.

“Let. Me. See. THE RING.” Sokka demanded and darted around Iroh. Katara still didn’t show her face but held out her hand.

“Moonstone? Spirits Zuko, you are so cheesy.” Sokka said.

“It’s what she wanted!” Zuko snapped defensively.

“Hey Katara.” Thuy said as she slid behind Zuko.

“I thought you were going to ask Zuko to be your instructor.” Katara hissed.

“Oh I did that last week. Tonight, I just announced that you’re going to be my master!” Thuy said.

“WHAT.” Katara squawked and jolted upright. All the blood drained too quickly from her face and as everything went dark, she fainted.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49

[revolutionary-demosthenes]

So to start off, here are some mini-bios of people who I’ll be talking about! This is going to be a long post, but it will make it easier to understand my future posts if you don’t know some of these people. I’m covering: Alexander Hamilton, John Laurens, Francis Kinloch, Lois Manoël de Vègobre, Johannes Von Müller, Charles Victor de Bonstetten, Alleyne Fitzherbert 1st Baron, St. Helens, and Thomas Gray.

John Laurens: You might’ve heard of him if you listen to Hamilton. John Laurens was born in Charleston, South Carolina. His father was Henry Laurens, a prominent South Carolinian who co-owned the largest slave trading house in North America, “Austin and Laurens.” Yeah. He pretty much was a terrible father and a terrible person. He would later become president of the congressional congress. His mother was named Eleanor Laurens. Her death when John was 16 marked a significantly traumatic event in his life, however in general, John Laurens was very well acquainted with death. He was the fourth child born in his family, but he was the oldest by the time he was four years old, his older siblings all dying at young ages. One can only speculate how these early losses affected young John, or Jack, as his family called him.

John was most likely tutored at a young age. He grew up in very privileged circumstances certainly, as his father was one of the most well-known and rich South Carolinians of the time. 

As John grew up, he became very studious and serious. His father viewed him as the most promising child of the Laurens children, and prayed he would not fall prey to gambling or women. At nearly thirteen, we find our first piece of evidence suggesting John Laurens might be gay. His father Henry Laurens writes, “Master Jack is too closely wedded to his studies to think about any of the Miss Nannies I would not have such a sound in his Ear for a Crown…” In other words, Henry Laurens noticed his son’s unusual lack of interest in girls. Of course, one could read it as a passing comment on how studious his son was, or just thankfulness that Henry’s ‘best’ son didn’t seem to be ‘tempted’ in any way, but this does still confirm that as a young teenager, (and some point out that this is the time when many boys go through puberty, and therefore discover their sexual interests,) John was NOT interested in ladies. 

As John grew even older, his father decided the time was ripe for some education in Europe. Some speculation has occurred that right before John left for Europe he painted a collection known as Pope Brown Collection of South Carolina Natural History. It contains 32 paintings of natural organisms, including many types of birds and plants. This is not confirmed, but it is of interest to many that John Laurens was a very good artist, and probably quite interested in art. Many have heard of the (in)famous turtle drawings John did. In truth, though John did draw the soft-shelled turtle for naturalist Alexander Garden, he most likely did not have an uncommon affection for that particular animal.

So, John soon found himself on a boat to Europe with his younger brothers, Henry jr. and James, known as Jemmy. They eventually settled in Geneva, staying with a family friend. 

But before we even get to Geneva, it is worth noting a passage from a letter by Henry Laurens. This was written while John was briefly enrolled in a school in London. While complaining about the many crimes and indulgences of the city, he mentions “…and every black and execrable Crime had gain’d in the City is equally astonishing and shocking.” Now this simply could be another thrown in crime in the long list that precedes this, but in those those days ‘black crime’ was sometimes a code for homosexuality. So was John exposed to homosexuality in London the way Hamilton was at Nevis? This could provide some context for his later relationship with Francis Kinloch.

In 1772, the Laurens boys arrived in Geneva. John studied a multitude of subjects, and polished up his French. While he fretted about finding his brothers proper schools, his Uncle James Laurens was concerned about a different aspect of his time. Geneva, which had been a theocracy at one point, was now very open to new, more secular ways of thinking. John assured his Uncle that he was not influenced by any of his teachers not being ‘classically’ Christian. But it may not be a coincidence that the place where John most likely had his first homosexual relationship was a place more open to new types of thinking and concepts, especially in terms of religion.

What exactly was this first relationship? To establish some context, we must return briefly to Charlestown, South Carolina. The Kinloch family lived there and did know the Laurens’s. The name ‘Kinloch’ appears in some of Henry Laurens’s papers, and apparently Francis Kinloch’s sister made John ruffles for his travels to Europe. But in 1774, as John was dutifully studying in Geneva, his father wrote to him “From a hint which Waag dropped at Bath tis expected by the freinds of the young Eatonian that he will find a freind in you at Genevé, tho none of ‘em have Said a word to me on the Subject.” This “freind” is in fact Francis Kinloch, so it may be that he and John had met before. 

John and Francis became very good friends along with one of Laurens’s tutors, Luis de Manoel de Vegobre. There is little documentation of the Kinloch-Laurens relationship whilst the latter was in Geneva, but once they were separated many letters were exchanged, several quite romantic sounding. What is quite possibly the most passionate line Laurens ever wrote to a lover is contained at the end of a letter to Francis. “We may differ in our political sentiments my dear Kinloch but I shall always love you for the knowledge I have of your Heart.” Kinloch was a loyalist, influenced by his guardian Thomas Boone, while John Laurens was obviously a patriot and the two debated hotly via letters. 

Another aspect that must be looked at when considering the Laurens-Kinloch relationship is the amount of trust in the relationship. The level of trust is apparent when we see John first express his abolitionist views in a letter to Kinloch,  “I could talk much with you my Dear Friend upon this Subject,” says John, referring to slavery. “and I know your generous Soul would despise and sacrifice Interest to establish the Happiness of so large a Part of the inhabitants of our Soil_  if as some pretend, but I am persuaded more thro’ interest, than from Conviction, the Culture of the Ground with us cannot be carried on without African Slaves, Let us fly it as a hateful Country_ and say ubi Libertas ibi Patria…” Kinloch responded that he supported the ideas, but did not see how fellow Southerners would adopt them. This only illustrates more clearly that though there were serious conflicts, theirs was a loving and trusting relationship. 

When John was forced to leave Geneva, (and he did want to stay… one wonders if Kinloch had something to do with this. It may have been other reasons, like that John felt freer from his father or enjoyed his rich social life.) he wrote a plaintive letter to Kinloch, telling him, “If my Letter is a little confused, dont be surprised at it, for I am quite like a creature in [a] new world…” 

  However, as if John hadn’t lost enough family in his mere nineteen years, his brother Jemmy lost his life that summer. The boy had apparently tried to jump to John’s window and had fractured his skull. John was with his brother through the horrible night. He wrote to his uncle James, “At some Intervals he had his Senses, so far as to be able to answer singe Questions, to beckon me, to form his Lips to kiss me, but for the most part he was delirious and frequently unable to articulate. Puking, Convulsions near very violent, and latterly so gentle as to be scarcely perceived, or deserve the Name, ensued, and Nature yielded.” It is notable that soon after this, John Laurens sent a letter to Francis Kinloch, whom he hadn’t corresponded with since late the year before, 1774. This again illustrates that though the relationship was not flawless or without conflict, Laurens trusted and confided in his friend/lover.

Now studying law at Middle Temple, John received an extremely upsetting letter from Francis Kinloch. Apparently Kinloch was ready to move on from their romance. He starts the letter with an almost deceptively affectionate opening, “Whatever may be your idea of my manner of thinking in political affairs, don’t let that hinder you from telling me yours, and I promise to be as free with you: we hold too fast by one anothers hearts, my dear Laurens, to be afraid of exposing our several opinions to each other.” But Kinloch signs the letter “be certain I shall never forget you.” Apparently John  saw this as Kinloch being done with him, and as a result did something that would change his life forever.

One of Henry Laurens’s business partners, William Manning, was in London the same time as John, and apparently young Laurens came to call occasionally and enjoyed the company of Manning’s children. This is where he met Martha Manning. There is one piece of evidence to suggest that they were courting for a time, however all we know for sure is that Martha became pregnant around the time the last Kinloch letter reached John, and John Laurens was forced to marry the woman, certainly not because he loved her. “Pity has obliged me to marry.” John  wrote to his uncle. It could be that if they were courting prior to the pregnancy, the relationship was one-sided, or was an attempt for John be seen as straight. 

Though John was now married, he was yearning to leave his unhappy marriage and fight for America. An ardent patriot and abolitionist, he longed to go overseas and join the army. Henry Laurens tried his best to hinder his son’s want, but found that John was no longer a child he could bend to his will. So, John boarded a ship to America, not knowing, and possibly not caring, that he was leaving his wife behind. 

Henry Laurens, being a very prominent Carolinian and future president of the Continental Congress, managed to get his son an excellent position as Aide-de-Camp to general George Washington, though John was not officially appointed the position until October 6th or 7th. He joined the staff in August 1777, and met Alexander Hamilton, a man who would change his life forever.

Alexander Hamilton:

In quite a contrast to John Laurens’s privileged, if morbid childhood, future Founding Father Alexander Hamilton was born out of wedlock on the tiny island of St Croix to Rachel Facuette and James Hamilton in either the year 1755 or 1757. (There is great debate over his birth year. Hamilton himself used 1757, but a large amount of evidence from his childhood points to 1755. For time’s sake, we will use 1755.) Hamilton adored books and writing, but was hindered in his intellectual dreams by the grim circumstances he was brought up in. 

Hamilton had a single brother, James, also born out of wedlock. When Hamilton was 12 his mother died of smallpox, quite common at the time. Alexander was also sick, however he recovered, albeit he always had health problems most likely connected to the early brush with mortality.

Where Alexander grew up, blacks outnumbered whites by a ratio of nearly 8:1, so there was existential tension in the air, a constant fear of sugar plantation owners that the slaves would revolt. Indeed, the slave owners were so cruel to their slaves that things Hamilton witnessed as a child appear to have given him a permanent pessimism about human nature. In addition to the rich white landowners and enslaved blacks, there was a population of poor whites and criminals. St. Croix was a place where outcasts in society at the time were sent as well. This included people accused of sodomy (homosexuality). Ron Chernow writes in his biography of Alexander Hamilton, “Hamilton had certainly been exposed to homosexuality as a boy, since many ‘sodomites’ were transported to the Caribbean along with thieves, pickpockets, and others deemed undesirable.” This may explain why Hamilton seemed more at ease with his sexuality than Laurens, who grew up in a more strict, to say the least, household.

After his mother’s untimely death, Alexander and his brother lived with their cousin Peter Lytton. Unfortunately, very soon after the arrangement began, Peter took his own life, leaving the boys with practically no place to go. 

Alexander managed to get a job clerking for a prominent businessman. It is no stretch to assume that this is where Hamilton began his economic studies. While Alexander managed to get a good job, his brother was stuck being a carpenter and competing with others for work. Ron Chernow points out that this is again an example of Hamilton’s superior intellect pulling him out of ditches.

When Alexander was seventeen, a horrible storm shook the island of St. Croix. Hamilton wrote a beautiful and moving account of the hurricane, and this led to people raising enough money for him to enroll in King’s College in New York City. 

Louis Manoël de Vegobre:

A Swiss lawyer who met Francis Kinloch and John Laurens while in Geneva. His early life is pretty elusive, as he does not even have a wikipedia page. He was a math teacher, and John Laurens’s math tutor. John Laurens taught him English, and both Kinloch and Laurens seem to have taught Vegobre to love America, as he grew despairing when he heard about the challenges of the war in America. The book, Evolution of a Federalist: William Loughton Smith of Charleston (1758-1812) says of Vegobre, “When the first rumblings reached Europe, de Vegobre wrote Laurens: ‘Poor America!—you cannot believe how much me heart is moved on its account; you, and after you Kinloch have raised in my mind such a concern for your native country! I am as much affected for what happens to it, as if I were an American…. English friends, I will, I will see you in your country, before I die!’”

Vegobre was likely in a romantic relationship with Kinloch. He wrote to John Laurens in December 1774: “Let me tell you what are these pleasures whose you are the first cause.  I began to understand speaken; I read Spectator, Clarissa, Milton and Shakespear, besides some philophical books.  Never, never in my life I have been so well entertained as I am when I read Milton; and why?  First, for Poet’s excellency, and secondly and chiefly because I read it with Kinloch.  My beloved, my dearest friend is Kinloch; how happy am I, when I teach him some part of natural Philosophy, when I read with him both English and French Poets, when I talk with him about various matters plainly and heartily as with a friend!  Let me say again: Kinloch is my beloved, my dearest friend.”

Charles Victor de Bonstetten (Karl Victor von Bonstetten in German):

A writer from Switzerland, he was educated partly in Geneva, where he would develop the liberal beliefs that alarmed his father enough to make him return to Bern, where Bonstetten was born. He introduced the people of the Ticino Valley to potatoes.

He appears to have had a romance with Johannes Von Müller and Thomas Gray (I will be posting about the Gray- Bonstetten relationship very soon)

Johannes Von Müller:

A historian who’s life goal was to compile a giant master history book on Switzerland. He was a teacher of Greek, and later appointed office by Napoleon himself. He wrote many history books, and traveled throughout Europe throughout his life. 

Letter from Müller to Bonstetten: “Any mistakes I may make in the future will be your fault; that is only if you neglect your letter-writing – your friendship can never grow cold – might I let myself be surprised by a passion. Tell me why I love you more as time passes. You are now incessantly in me and around me. My dearest friend, how much better it is to think of you than to live with the others! How is it possible to desecrate a heart that is consecrated to you? I need you more than ever; over and above these immutable, laudable plans for a useful life and an immortal name I have forsworn everything that is considered to be pleasant and delightful – not only pleasure but love, not only revels, but good living, not only greed, but ambition. B. is everything to me, you make all my battles easy and all abstinence sweet. Thus you live in my mind and especially in my heart. You write to me often, but it does not seem enough to me; you often address only the historian, and do not embrace your friend often enough.” 

Thomas Gray:

I stumbled upon this man while researching Bonstetten and Müller. I came upon the book My Dear Boy: Gay Love Letters Through the Centuries. I saw that one of the essays in the book was entitled Thomas Gray & Charles- Victor de Bonstetten. Intrigued, I clicked on the essay, and then from there I somehow managed to find the archive of a full biography of Gray. Thomas Gray was an English poet. He was/is pretty famous, but not super well-known, partially because he did not publish much in his lifetime. Thomas Gray’s childhood was marred with sadness. He had nearly a dozen siblings, but none except him lived past babyhood. He stayed with his mother once he had left his father, who was abusive. He was born in 1716 and died in 1771.

Francis Kinloch: 

John Laurens’s first boyfriend. He was also born in Charleston (then Charles Town) and educated at Eton College. After this he went to Geneva, where he met John Laurens. He later hosted what I call Kinloch’s Gay Retreat, in which he had Johannes Von Müller, Charles Victor de Bonstetten, and Alleyne Fitzherbert, 1st Baron, St. Helens stay with him.

Alleyne Fitzherbert, 1st Baron, St. Helens:

I haven’t been able to find anything gay about him except he was apparently lord of the bedchamber for George III, and find words.info says this about lord of the bedchamber: “A Lord of the Bedchamber's duties consisted of assisting the King with his dressing, waiting on him when he ate in private, guarding access to him in his bedchamber and closet and providing companionship.” So… possible? Maybe, but King George III also had like 20 other Lords of the Bedchamber. Also fun fact: Mt. St. Helens is named after him!

Hope this was informative!