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eskelbigbang · 4 years ago

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Eskel Big Bang 2021 Masterpost

Here are all the fics and art made this year for the Eskel Big Bang. Congratulations on the hard work, everyone!

AO3 collection || #ebb works tag || #ebb art tag || #ebb fic tag

Below the cut is a full list of all EBB works:

Uprooted (T, No Pairing, 12k) by @rachofspades, art by @drachedraws

When a nondescript notice begging for a witcher's aid catches Eskel's attention on his way back to Kaer Morhen for the winter, he finds himself drawn in by his own curiosity despite his initial reservations. Once he arrives, it quickly becomes apparent that there's something more sinister going on than typical monster attacks, and he's determined to figure out what it is. Fic || Art (1) (2)

These Clay Hands (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 4.7k) by @aalizazareth, art by @hobbart-art

Eskel is a shy pottery instructor who meets Jaskier during one of his lessons. The two hit it off. Fic || Art

The Empty Safe Job (M, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 18k) by @iboughtaplant, art by @gods-no-longer-tread-here

A team of thieves with complicated pasts take down the rich and powerful to help those that get left out from justice. Their latest job should be simple, but an unexpected adversary has Eskel confronting his past. Sometimes bad guys make the best good guys. Fic || Art

the broken vines are an open door (M, Eskel & Geralt & Yennefer, 5.2k) by @trissmarrygoals, art by @flyingyarn

Traveling through Aedirn with his newly acquired child surprise, Eskel stumbles upon a dead body - and with it, a mystery. Fic || Art

With you I'll never be alone (T, Eskel/Geralt, 5.8k) by @dat-carovieh, art by @mondfuchs

From their first meeting, through their whole long life Geralt and Eskel have always been there to comfort each other when one of them got hurt. --- Or five times Geralt and Eskel comfort each other through some kind of hurt and one time they're just comfortable. Fic || Art

Eskel Has A Good Day (G, Eskel & Wolf Witchers, 9.3k) by @gods-no-longer-tread-here, art by @phoenixandjacob

The Wolves (and bard) of Kaer Morhen go on a vacation to the coast, and have a good day. Fic || Art (1) (2)

Tu Me Manques. (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 8k) by @etcorsolus, art by @cvbeebop

In which, Eskel meets a bard who calms him. Body, mind, and soul. Story title is how the French say 'I miss you.' The more literal translation is 'You are missing from me.' Fic || Art

Little Red (M, Eskel/Lambert, 6.1k) by @miahclone, art by @llwynbleidd

Eskel helps Lambert while he's recovering from a serious injury. To distract him from the pain, Eskel tells stories of past hunts. Fic || Art

Constellations (M, Eskel/Geralt, 7.2k) by @dredshirtroberts, art by @dat-carovieh

Eskel loves Geralt but their soulmarks don't match - he'd know. They're witchers, and scars are their business. As he joins Geralt in retirement, Eskel figures whatever he can get with the other witcher will be enough. He might get a little bit more than he thought he was bargaining for, but Eskel's never passed up a good deal. Fic || Art (1) (2)

Trial By Fire (Eskel and Aza's Wild Ride) (E, Eskel/OFC, 11k) by @janzoo, art by @liaonyxrayne

When Eskel rescues his succubus acquaintance from witch hunters, their reunion becomes something more as they're drawn into the hunters' plot. What can they do against a twisted idealist and the danger he presents to witchers and non-humans? Fic || Art

Pardon Me While I Burst Into Flames (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 29k) by @ghostinthelibrarywrites, art by @wolfgeralt

When Eskel is hired to kill an incubus who ruined a noble wedding, he finds that his target is far from a bloodthirsty beast, a too-pretty court bard. Eskel spares Jaskier and they go their separate ways, with Eskel expecting never to see the incubus again. But Jaskier has other ideas. Fic || Art

I Could Eat the World Raw (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 7k) by @buttercupsanddandelions, art by @gods-no-longer-tread-here

“This is Eskel.” He pushes him slightly forward, “And he just had his conduit moment.” After becoming a mage, Eskel finds that he's been soul-bound to a little lordling. Fic || Art

Something we bury (M, Eskel/Geralt, 10k) by @heartoferebor, art by @craftgamerzz

“Where’s Eskel?” Ciri asks Geralt, frowning a little. “He went out to do more hunting and gather some potion ingredients. Should be back any moment,” Geralt reassures her. “Ah. Good.” She hesitates a little before deciding to forge right ahead with her next question. She’s asked everyone else in the keep, of course she’ll have to ask Geralt, too. “About his scars…” * Ciri wants to know where Eskel's scars came from, so she decides to ask everyone at the keep about them. Except, they all seem to have different stories... Fic || Art

Lord What Fools These Witchers Be (T, Aiden/Eskel, 21k) by @jayofolympus and @frenchkey, art by aviixrc

When Lambert brings Aiden to winter with him in Kaer Morhen, Eskel is catapulted straight into his own personal hell. It would be easier if he didn’t like the Cat. Instead, he finds himself falling head over heels for his brother’s boyfriend and trying to hide it from a pack of nosy Witchers. If only Aiden would stop flirting with him... Fic || Art (1) (2)

A Moment of Comfort (M, Eskel/OC) by @merpancake

An attack at a brothel begins with blood and carnage, but Eskel finds an unexpected peace in the arms of Cenna. As their paths continue to cross, Eskel carries that same peace within him on his journey through monsters and men. Art

Toussaint's Finest (M, Eskel/Geralt, 9.1k) by @kate-river, art by @justhereforeskel

Eskel is still roaming the Continent. But in recent years the Path has become harder and harder. Eskel has made it a habit to come by Corvo Bianco around vintage and this year's events might change a few things in his life forever. Fic || Art

Beneath the Shadow and the Soul (E, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 32k) by @vix-spes, art by @buffskierights

Eskel had the strange feeling that everything was going to change when he passed through Dol Blathanna one year on his way back to Kaer Morhen for winter. He had been passing through a town and, instead of running away from him, someone had exclaimed “You’re a Witcher,” and proceeded to sing at him. He just hadn't realised how much of an impact it would have on him. Fic || Art

Daughter of Fire (T, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 4.9k) by @kittynannygaming, art by @zmezagain

Witchers are sterile, that's a fact. No female human can bear their child. Well, the keyword here is 'human' and a succubus is very not human. And Eskel now has a sweet 7 years old daughter. Fic || Art

Break It Recklessly (E, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 22k) by @anonymousblueberry, art by @nol-nol

From teenage tearaways to successful adults, Geralt and Eskel have always been inseparable. To the extent that when Geralt accepts a wedding invite with Eskel as his plus one, there’s the assumption that they have finally sorted their shit out and got together, forcing them to keep up the facade or cause chaos for the happy couple. What follows is a crash course in emotions, dating, and working out that love can burn long and slow for a very long time. Fic || Art

The Question (M, Eskel/Istredd, 40k) by @eskelchopchop, art by @stars-in-my-damn-eyes

Eskel's in Ohio when Yennefer calls. He’s reluctant to pick up; he’s still not over Geralt, and he's got zero desire to chat with Geralt's new lover. Turns out Yen isn’t his lover anymore, and this isn’t about Geralt. It’s about witcher’s work. Yennefer owns Portal, one of New York City's most popular gay clubs. A Post-Conjunction Entity (PCE) is hunting her clientele, leaving a string of withered corpses in its wake. The police are doing jackshit. Will Eskel come back to a city full of bad memories and take a job off the books to stop it? He'll sure as hell try. Along the way, he’ll cross paths with Istredd, a man with sorcerer’s eyes and a painful past of his own. If Eskel doesn't work fast enough, they both might become the PCE's next victims. Fic || Art

Is It Cold In The Water? (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 12k) by @jennyloggins, art by @jerry-of-rivia

His horse is tied to a branch a few trees out, and that’s where Eskel heads to grab his water skein, taking a deep drink and soothe his dry throat. Patting his horse’s backside affectionately on his way past her, Eskel feigns a stern voice to say, “Zuzanna, keep watch for me.” Her tail twitches as if to swat him away. Fic || Art

Everything I Want (I Can Find in You) by @eyesofshinigami, art by @phoenixandjacob

Eskel didn't think he'd ever see Jaskier again, sure the Cat witcher was only looking for a night of fun. But then he keeps showing up, taking Eskel to bed and leaving him little presents. It takes Eskel a bit, but eventually he realizes that maybe, just maybe, Jaskier means it when he says he wants to keep him. Or Eskel doesn't think he deserves nice things and Jaskier is determined to show him otherwise. Fic || Art

One Stop Shop; Tattoo's Piercings, And Love (M, Eskel/Jaskier/Lambert, 7.4k) by @jesheckah, art by @moondrunkart

When Eskel fumbles an invitation at a party to come into his tattoo shop, Jaskier and he move towards an explosive love. How many tattoo sessions does it take for the heart to know what it wants? Fic || Art

Entanglement (and other words for a mess) (E, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 31k) by @violaceum-vitellina-viridis, art by @merpancake

Eskel has a hundred marks on his body, but a soulmark isn't one of them. Fic || Art

Beneath Each Other's Bones (E, Eskel/Geralt, 7.6k) by @pressedinthepages, art by @drachedraws

Winter at Kaer Morhen can be brutal. But Eskel and Geralt find warmth in each other in an effort to stave off the cold. Fic || Art (1) (2)

#9fe2bf on the Shore (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 4.5k) by @buffskierights, art by @phoenixandjacob

The sea roars with a vengeance, something angering the waves even as the stars shine brightly overhead in the clear night sky. If Eskel were a poet he’d say it almost sounded like a wail of mourning, the way the whitewater crashes upon the night black sand and the gathering foam, the sea frothing furiously. But Eskel’s always hated his poetry lessons so being a poet is firmly off the table. Fic || Art

lion in the wolf's den (T, Coen/Eskel, 5k) by @patchwork-doublet, art by @justhereforeskel

eskel is nervous being around ciri, afraid things will go south like they did last time. Fic || Art

Sugar Baby Blues (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 24k) by adevinecomedy, art by @pastelrune

Jaskier’s mind slipped back to a night several months ago when he was all worked up but had nowhere to go and a mountain of school work to get through. How it was just so much easier to log onto a camming website and watch someone perform seemingly just for him. The gorgeous, confident man on the other side of the screen had been so accommodating, even though Jaskier had been shy and hadn’t typed much into the chat. Modern au where Eskel is a Cam boy and runs into a bit of a financial bind. Enter Jaskier who just might be the answer to all his woes. Fic || Art

Winter Comfort (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 10k) by @myidlehand, art by @liaonyxrayne

Jaskier comes to Kaer Morhen to spend some time with Eskel, after briefly meeting him in the fall. And while both of them seem delighted to see each other again, Eskel starts to shy away from Jaskier's comments and flirting. It doesn't take a genius to see Eskel is having body image issue. Jaskier aims to help him through it. Fic || Art

The Subtle Knife (M, Eskel/Jaskier, 26k) by @major-trouble, art by @cylin-aka-ankamo

There's an assassin haunting the Continent. No one knows their name, everyone - that is, everyone in the know - calls them The Specter. If you want a rival out of the way, a political opponent disposed of, or a strategic target taken out, contacting The Specter gets the job done. For a price, of course. There's an art to subtlety, after all, and it wouldn't do to risk the attention of law enforcement. So there's no obvious cause, no knife to the back, and the deaths aren't usually remarked upon. The Kaer Morhen Agency, however, has noticed. One of their agents has been hired to protect potential victims, people scared that they've been targeted. And they have reason to worry. When Eskel's first assignment winds up dead of no discernible cause, it starts him on a search for the elusive Specter, hoping against hope to track down the assassin before they're hired again. Setting a trap for a ghost is something Witchers are used to. Setting one for a trained killer may prove beyond them. Fic || Art

No Funny Business (M, Eskel/Jaskier, 11k) by goldendaydreams, art by @nanero11

Eskel had long given up on finding his soulmate, his soulmark nothing but scar tissue from a house fire he’d survived as a child. Knowing that most people wait for their perfect someone, their destiny, didn’t stop him from falling in love with Jaskier, the nurse he met after a hunt gone wrong. Fic || Art

Stronger Than My Storm (E, Eskel/Geralt) by @rawrkinjd, art by @nol-nol

Eskel and Geralt were friends from the very beginning. They added the benefits later. It was another way to offer comfort and companionship when the rest of the world closed in around them, and Eskel was content with it for years. Until he wakes up one day and realises it’s become something more. He touches Geralt’s silver hair, wreathed in a halo of yellow sunlight, and allows himself to feel the cracks spreading through his heart. Witchers can’t love each other. It would only lead to suffering. Eskel realises he must weather the storm inside or let Geralt go forever. Fic || Art

Full of Life (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 6.3k) by @sternenstaub28, art by @llwynbleidd

When Eskel gets hired to solve the case of people disappearing in town, she didn’t know she’d find a friend and maybe even something more. or Beauty and strength don't necessarily make your life easier, a companion and love however do. Fic || Art

choices are the hinges of destiny (T, Eskel/Geralt, 7.5k) by @lutes-and-dandelions, art by @cassandrasartworld

After rescuing a fae from the clutches of death, they repay Eskel by helping him make a choice. -oOo- A story about what would have happened if Eskel had claimed his child of surprise. Fic || Art

Eskel Vs The Continent (And His Feelings) (M, No Pairing, 47k) by @chibitabathasloves, art by @zmezagain

Eskel decides he needs to leave Kaer Morhen after the fight with the Hunt. Where will it take him? And will he be able to face his feelings he desperately tries to ignore. Fic || Art

lookin' to the sky to save me (T, Eskel/Geralt, 10k) by @torynickles, art by @trissmarrygoals

Geralt slides his hand from Eskel’s shoulder to his back. And then. Then he keeps moving it, outwards, away from Eskel’s torso, where there should be nothing but air, but— “What the fuck?” he chokes, because he can still feel Geralt’s hand, sensation where there should be none. He shakes his head wildly, twisting his arm to reach for his own back. His fingers connect to something, but—it’s not his body, it can’t be his body, even though he can feel himself touching it. Because he’s made up of skin and flesh, bone and muscle, and this thing has all of those, but— It’s covered in sticky, damp feathers. Fic || Art

A Fine Night at the Faire (M, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 12k) by Elensule, art by @liaonyxrayne

Eskel has been hurt by the world and hides for refuge in his little goat farm. He's found no reason to look for love, or much of anything else. But encouragement from his brother sends him to an unfamiliar locale; the renfaire! Maybe stepping out of his comfort zone was just what he needed. Fic || Art

#eskel big bang #eskel #witcher eskel #the witcher #the witcher eskel #the witcher 3 #tw3 #jaskel #geraskel #geskel #eskel x geralt #geralt x eskel #eskel x jaskier #jaskier x eskel #ebb works #eskel fanfic #eskel fanart #eskel/geralt/jaskier

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samwisethewitch · 5 years ago

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Witchcraft and Activism

The word “witch” is a politically charged label. If we look at how the word was used historically, it referred to someone who existed outside of the normal social order. The people accused of witchcraft in the European and American witch trials were mostly — experts say between 75% and 80% — women. They were also overwhelmingly poor, single, or members of a minority ethnicity and/or religion. In other words, they were people who did not follow their society’s accepted model of womanhood (or, in the case of accused men, manhood).

If you choose to identify with the witch label, you are choosing to identify with subversion of gender norms, resistance to the dominant social order, and “outsider” status. If that makes you uncomfortable or uneasy, then you may want to use another label for your magical practice. Witchcraft always has been and always will be inherently political.

In her book Witches, Sluts, Feminists, Kristen J. Sollee argues that the “slut” label is in many ways a modern equivalent to the “witch” label. In both cases, the label is used to devalue people, most often women, and to enforce a patriarchal and misogynist social order.

Superstitions around witchcraft are connected to the modern stigma around abortion (and, to a lesser extent, contraception). Midwifery and abortion were directly linked to witchcraft in the European witch hunts. Today, women who seek abortions are condemned as sluts, whores, and murderers. The fight for reproductive freedom remains inextricably linked with the witch label.

During the women’s liberation movement of the 1960s, the socialist feminist group Women’s International Terrorist Conspiracy from Hell (W.I.T.C.H.) used the image of the witch to campaign for women’s rights and other social issues. They were some of the first advocates for intersectional feminism (feminist activism that addresses other social issues that overlap with gendered issues). They performed acts such as hexing Wall Street capitalists and wearing black veils to protest bridal fairs. The W.I.T.C.H. Manifesto calls witches the “original guerrillas and resistance fighters against oppression.”

In her book Revolutionary Witchcraft, Sarah Lyons points out that both witchcraft and politics are about raising and directing power in the world. In a postmodern society, most of our reality is socially constructed — it works because we collectively believe it does. Money only has value because we believe it does. Politicians only have power because we believe they do. Our laws are only just because we believe they are. Like in magic, everything in society is a product of belief and a whole lot of willpower — and that makes witches the ideal social activists.

Lyons argues that witchcraft is inseparable from politics, because witches have always opposed dominant political power. She makes a connection between the witch trials and the rise of capitalism and classism. She connects the basic concepts of magic to historic activist groups like the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP), who used ritual as an act of protest.

Not every witch is a hardcore activist, but every witch should have a basic awareness of political and social issues and be willing to do what they can to make a difference.

Ways to Combine Witchcraft and Activism

Perform a ritual to feel connected to the earth and her people. Activism should come from a place of love, not a place of hate. Make sure you’re fighting for the right reasons by frequently taking time to reconnect with the planet and the people who live here. This can be as simple as laying down on the ground outside and meditating on all the ways you are connected to other people, as well as to the ecosystem, animals, and the earth herself. If getting up close and personal with the grass and dirt isn’t your thing, try to find a beautiful place in nature where you can sit and journal about the interconnected nature of all things.

Unlearn your social programming. This is the most difficult and most important part of any activism. Before you can change the world outside yourself, you have to change your own psyche. Think about how you have been socialized to contribute to (or at least turn a blind eye to) the issues you want to fight against. For example, if you want to fight for racial justice, you need to understand how you have contributed to a racist system. You can do this in a variety of ways: through meditation, journaling, or divination, to name a few. Note that whatever method you choose, this will probably take weeks or months of repeated work. Rewriting your thought and behavior patterns is hard, and it can’t be done in a single day. Also note that if you are a victim of systemic oppression or prejudice, this work may bring up a lot of emotional baggage — you may want to involve a professional therapist or counselor.

Go to protests. Sending energy and doing healing rituals is great, but someone has to get out there and visibly fight for change. If you are able to do so, start going to protests and rallies for causes you care about. Don’t just show up, but be an active participant — make signs, yell and chant, and stand your ground if cops show up. Be safe and responsible, but be loud and assertive, too. If you want to go all out, you can don the black robes, pointed hats, and veils of W.I.T.C.H.es past, which has the added bonus of concealing your identity.

Turn your donations into a spell for change. When you donate to a cause you care about, charge your donation with a spell for positive change. You can do this by holding your cash, check, or debit card in both hands and focusing on your desire for change. Feel this desire flowing into the money, filling it with your determination. From here, make your donation, knowing that you’ll be sending an energy boost along with it.

Organize an activist coven. Do you have a handful of friends who are interested in witchcraft, passionate about activism, or both? Start a coven! Go to protests together, hold monthly rituals to raise energy for change, and collect money for donations. Being part of a group also means having a support system, which can help prevent burnout. Make a plan to check on each other regularly. You may even choose to do monthly group rituals for self care, which may be actual magic rituals or might be as simple as ordering takeout and watching a movie. Activism can be intensely draining work, so it’s important to take breaks when you need them!

Hold public rituals with an activist slant. Nothing gets people’s attention like a bunch of folks standing in a circle and chanting. Holding public rituals is one of the best ways to raise awareness for a cause. You might hold a vigil for victims of police brutality, a healing circle for the environment, or some other ritual that is relevant to the issue at hand. These rituals serve a double purpose, as they both bring people’s attention to the issue and give them an opportunity to work for change on a spiritual level. Use prayers, chants, and symbolism that is appropriate to the theme, and ask participants to make a small donation to a charity related to your cause.

Begin your public rituals with a territory acknowledgement. If you live in the United States, chances are you live on land that was taken from the native people by force. If you seek to have a relationship with the land, you need to first acknowledge the original inhabitants and the suffering they endured so you can be there. Use a website like native-land.ca to find out what your land was originally called and what indigenous groups originally lived there. Publicly acknowledge this legacy at your ritual, and publicly state your intention to support indigenous peoples. (Revolutionary Witchcraft has an excellent territory acknowledgement that you can customize for your area.)

Make an altar to your activist ancestors. If activism or membership in a marginalized group is a big part of your life, you may want to create a space for it in your home. Like an ancestor altar, this is a space to remember influential members of the community who have died. Choose a flat surface like a tabletop or shelf and decorate it with photos of your “ancestors,” as well as other appropriate items like flags, pins, stickers, etc. As a queer person, my altar to my LGBTQ+ ancestors might include images of figures like Sappho, Marsha P. Johnson, and Freddie Mercury, as well as items like a pink triangle patch, a small rainbow pride flag, and dried violets and green carnations. You may also choose to include a candle, an incense burner, and/or a small dish for offerings. Just remember to never place images of living people on an altar honoring the dead!

Do your research. Staying educated is an important part of activism — not only do your actions need to be informed, but you need to be able to speak intelligently about your issues. Read the news (on actual news websites, not just social media). Read lots of books; some I personally recommend are Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson, Love and Rage by Lama Rod Owens, and (as previously mentioned) Revolutionary Witchcraft by Sarah Lyons. If you can get access to them, read scholarly articles about theories that are influential among activists, like the Gaia Hypothesis or Deep Ecology. Read everything you can get your hands on.

VOTE! And I don’t just mean voting for the presidential candidate you like (or, as is often the case, voting against the one you don’t like). Vote for your representatives. Vote for city council. Vote for the county sheriff. Voting gives you a chance to make sure the people in office will be susceptible to your activism. Yes, your side might lose or your electoral college representative might choose to go against the popular vote. Even so, voting is a way to clearly communicate the will of the people, and it puts a lot of pressure on the people in charge. It’s important — don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.

In my experience, combining activism with my witchcraft is a deeply fulfilling spiritual experience. It strengthens my connection to the world around me, with helps grow both empathy and magical power. I truly can’t imagine my practice without the activist element.

Resources:

Witches, Sluts, Feminists by Kristen J. Sollee

Revolutionary Witchcraft by Sarah Lyons

The Study of Witchcraft by Deborah Lipp

The Way of Fire and Ice by Ryan Smith

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autistic-out-loud · 2 years ago

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Autistic people are handy

This won't be for everyone but sometimes I hear or see or read about something, and usually something that causes conflict and I think, we should have Autistic people mediate and respond to this.

Couple of reasons:

1st; most Autistic people have experience trying to fit in and having to change the way they do things for other people and such so we know how to look at things from different perspectives

2nd; if we don't know about something we research it, and research it good.

3rd; I have really high empathy (as do a lot of autistics, especially women) and are good at hearing people's side of the story and listening to opposing arguments

4th; We have a strong sense of justice. We know what's right and what's wrong - legally and morally - we understand context can affect the situation and also that the punishment should fit the crime. We are huge supporters of those being maligned, dismissed, ignored, etc.

5th; we are honest, like almost to the point of being brutal sometimes. I don't have time for bullshit. I can barely function while remembering the truth let alone trying to come up with and remember lies and such.

So for example, at the moment a lot of people are discussing Australia Day and on both sides people are getting all uppity and argumentative (I want to stress that I don't think EVERYONE is, but a lot of people are getting really passionate about this)

To me it seems simple. Fact: Australia day is on the 26th of January Fact: We celebrate it on the 26th January because that's the day the British Flag was raised when the First Fleet (who arrived in Botany Bay on the 18th) moved to Port Jackson Fact: For many Years Australia Day was celebrated as the day white people came to Australia and made it Australia Fact: Aboriginal People were forced to re-enact the arrival of the First Fleet on Australia Day for many many years. Fact: The British claiming Australia as theirs (by raising the flag on the 26th) was the start of many decades of horror for Aboriginal Australians; attacks, rape, massacres, stealing their children, plagues, stealing their land, poisonings, the list of atrocities is long and disgusting

Fact: In today's world we use Australia Day to celebrate being Australian, instead of the arrival of the first fleet. Fact: The date 26th January is a day of mourning for Aboriginal Australians and is not a time to celebrate, no matter what we are celebrating.

As I see it we should change the date, because, if it is how a lot of people who are against changing the date say it is - that the focus is on celebrating Australia, being Australian and coming together - then we shouldn't have it on a date that is so negative for a large population of Australians. I've seen the 8th May suggested as a new date, and honestly that's awesome because it's may-eight (mate) day.

We need to acknowledge that that date is a horrible one for many and just because it's in the past shouldn't mean we just forget about it. Just because it's always been that way doesn't make it ok. To move forward we need to acknowledge this, let 26th January become a proper day of mourning. Use it as a day to get education about Aboriginal history out there - it's only but acknowledging the past that we can build a better future, you can't just pretend it didn't happen. And then have a separate day, one we can all enjoy, mark Australia Day.

Let's break it down: 1 side wants to celebrate Australia day as it is, and ignore what's happened in the past and that it hurts people. The other side, doesn't want to stop us celebrating Australia day, just wants us to change the date and acknowledge what happened in the past. Seems simple to me - why is everyone arguing so much?! And it's probably going to be a bit difficult to find a new date, as there will be other things on that date or near that date, but we should be able to find one that is better than what we have. Then we can all move forward TOGETHER

It's like asking Jews to celebrate something on the 20th May - the day Auschwitz concentration camps were established. That's just wrong.

#autistic people are honest and just #autistic people for PM #decision making #strong sense of justice #australia day #australia day rant #change the date

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lansplaining · 3 years ago

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Wen Qing's willingness to sacrifice doing what's 'righteous' for her family makes me wonder how a Wen victory AU could go for her.

it really depends if Wen Ruohan and sons survive in this AU or not! I think as long as he's alive, she's basically as constrained in her options as she is during canon: she's just going to do what she has to to make sure that things remain as simple and safe as possible for herself and Wen Ning (and, in CQL, the Dafan Wen).

however... i could envision the world where Wen Ruohan and sons are killed but somehow the Wen position is still very strong and so she steps up, hoping to negotiate some kind of peace and realizing very quickly that between the Nie and the Jin (and maybe the Jiang, but that's a little more up in the air depending on how things go down/if this is a chengqing AU which obviously I'd want it to be) they're simply not going to allow this to end without satisfying their desire for "justice" (revenge). this leaves her with no option but to continue to try to force the Sunshot Campaign into surrender without utterly brutalizing them, while potentially trying to lure the Jiang and the Lan into some kind of negotiation without simply redrawing the alliances of the current war. in the end, of course, victory still means she has to install herself as dictator/chief cultivator, because that's the only way to guarantee that Nie Mingjue or Jin Guangshan won't seize the opportunity to destroy the Wen after the fact, and just hope that if enough time passes, things will eventually settle enough that she and her family are safe... maybe...

#ask answered #let wen qing do murders tbh

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whiterosebrian · 4 years ago

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Letter To Democrats

I felt the need to do something besides raising awareness of environmental, indigenous, and socio-economic issues. I’ve decided to compose and then mail multiple printed copies of a letter to multiple politicians across the USA. I did wonder if I should copy-and-paste the letter to social media profiles like I did for the one that I wrote to President Biden. Ultimately, I decided that posting the letter would serve two purposes. First, I wanted to let indigenous activists know that they have another willing accomplice. Second, this could provide a decent template for anyone who also feels a need to write to political leaders and put pressure on them to take much-needed action. Without any further ado…

Greetings,

I am writing a generic letter to send to assorted politicians across the United States. For reasons that I will articulate over the course of this letter, I felt a serious need to address as many members of the American political leadership as possible. I do not intend to call you out personally. If you do take it as a personal callout, please consider why you feel that way.

The reports of wildfires, heat waves, and floods have filled many, many observers with existential terror. Some have even expressed utter despair over whether the world will be inhabitable by any form of life. At times I have been tempted to join the despair, to give up hope of ever leaving a beautiful legacy for future generations. For the sake of all the people of the world, I must fight that temptation. I need to do my part to fight for the future.

There are a large number of activists trying to protect the environment. However, they need help from people who have the power to make really concrete changes. That is why I am writing to you and other Democratic politicians. That does sound very partisan, but the sad fact is that the Republican party is almost a lost cause at this point. I wish to be proven wrong about that. The fact is that it already engaged in brutal obstruction during the Obama administration. A sinister side to the base already started emerging during that time as well. With the rise of Donald Trump, the much of its leadership and nearly all of its electoral base have become increasingly unwilling to offer the kind of compromise needed for a functional democracy.

The Democratic party as a whole has been criticized as very weak in opposing the radicalizing Republican Party. The current President has spoken of a desire for restoring national unity. That desire is certainly laudable in itself when Trump blatantly stoked resentment and division. Again, however, the Republican party and its core supporters have shown a complete unwillingness to work with any opponents in any way. They view their opponents as subversive enemies that need to be crushed underfoot. The Republican party has inched towards neo-fascism at a time when neo-fascism is mainstreaming around the world. The Republican party has also already been beholden to the selfish interests of major corporations for decades. It even seeks to magnify the already dire influence of corporations chiefly responsible for pollution. Its propaganda outlets outright deny pollution and mislead millions of people.

Some Democratic politicians have also been criticized as going along with corporate interests and watering down legislation meant to oppose corporate influence. By now it has become clear that corporate elites do not have the safety of the world and its human and nonhuman denizens in mind. By now it has become clear that they must be reined in for the greater good. The only language that major corporations even comprehend is money. Here I arrive at the first main point of this letter: I urge you to work with other Democratic leaders to divest from major corporations and their executives, especially those most directly responsible for polluting the Earth. I’ve also seen proposals that corporations be forced to contribute to removing as much pollution as possible. Quickening the transition away from fossil fuels is crucial.

However, alternate energy sources are not enough. Switching from gas-powered cars to electric cars is not enough. Building solar or wind farms in place of coal-burning power plants is not enough. Extraction and consumption cause their own serious problems. The problem of environmental degradation has roots that are far too deep and complicated to address here, though I will touch upon one later. Going hand-in-hand with corporate influence are the bad social and urban infrastructures that do not encourage sustainable lifestyles. I barely even know where to begin in this regard. Cities are too often built for cars and not people. Most people have to drive carbon-spewing cars to work at jobs that are not well-suited to their needs in order to pay their bills and feed their families. Too many people are left in poverty or near-poverty, some people are more-or-less isolated in suburbs, and a tiny handful are virtually untouchable in their wealth and privilege. Healthy food is not always accessible, and even when it is, it often has to be shipped very far from the source.

My second main point is this: in addition to transitioning to cleaner energy, the very infrastructure of our society needs to reformed. Local communities need to be lifted up so that they can better care for themselves without the need for distant figures constantly having to provide for them through convoluted supply chains. It’s true that right-wingers speak of “small government” with the unspoken agenda of leaving corporate oligarchs and ultra-conservative clergy to rule over ordinary human beings. Nonetheless, I believe that, at this point, government needs to assist in rebuilding communities so that they can eventually leave denizens to stand on their feet and care for each other. The pandemic, along with the poor responses of many local officials, has shown the need for communities to engage in mutual care.

I will confess that this exhortation is the vaguest one in this letter. I lack in-depth education on such matters. I bring it up in order to further nudge you in a direction that would be far better for the Earth and its people. I can offer one example of what must be done that is slightly clearer: helping communities establish gardens and small-scale farms to better feed themselves.

On a very important side note, this nation needs to divest from the military as well. The largest and most powerful military in history is known to be among the largest polluters on earth. Too many politicians seem to ignore how massive the military already is an insist on subsidizing it at the cost of actually building a peaceful and prosperous society.

I further wish to discuss the need to center indigenous peoples in renewing our society. No, I am no indigenous myself. I simply wish to point to their wisdom. Yes, the sagely magical Indian who is one with Mother Earth is a crude stereotype, and I have no intention of reinforcing it. With that said, I follow a number of indigenous writers, activists, spiritualists, and influencers on social media. I learned about how many indigenous people are attempting to reconnect to previously outlawed and hidden heritages. The stereotype could be rooted in reality.

In most cases, those heritages include animistic spiritualities, in which aspects of the natural world, from plants to animals to waters to stones, are seen as having spirits. Furthermore, these aspects of the natural world are seen as relatives to humans. I should note how some well-meaning white people, wishing to bond with the earth instead of submitting to organized religion, appropriate these indigenous spiritualties and associated practices. Indigenous writers will encourage such people to instead delve into their own pre-Christian heritages, which have similar animistic philosophies, however obscured by time they may be. I have actually been doing just that—though I won’t elaborate because I don’t want to center myself.

You may be asking, what is the relevance said common thread of the spiritualities of indigenous peoples? That animism seems to go hand-in-hand with methods of land care that developed over generations of trial and error, along with the principles behind those methods. With the subjugation and expulsion (and worse) of the land’s original caretakers, though, these practices fell into obscurity. The most dramatic example, perhaps, is the suppression of controlled burnings on the western coastline leading to the wildfires that we have seen in recent years. Indeed, the different lands of different indigenous nations need their own subtly distinct approaches, based on ecosystems, geographies, local histories, and general senses of place. Indigenous activists and figureheads are calling upon governments to heed their words on not only conservation but also regeneration.

One of the main demands that indigenous activists make is for the return of their lands, full sovereignty over them, and the facilitation of cultural revival. Yes, that is a very simple manner of justice and righting a historic wrong. It has become evident that their wisdom is a crucial piece of the puzzle of solving environmental problems as well. Simple “colorblind” or “globalized” liberalism won’t suffice when working for social or environmental justice. Indigenous activists argue that colonialism is at the root of so many of our world’s problems. Many of them even outright state that the “colonial state” in itself is a problem. I can see how colonialism has promoted the rise of an all-devouring capitalism and perpetuated it. The grim historical fact of how the enslavement of Black people and the elimination of indigenous peoples contributed to building this nation remains a grim historical fact.

I myself am figuring out the world and learning many truths, but I am sympathetic to people who have borne the brunt of colonialism. I welcome the humanistic achievements of modernity and utterly oppose fundamentalism and fascism, I assure you, but I’ve come to accept that the modern world is broken. Simple progress won’t heal the world. “Big government” certainly has a role to play in mobilizing the needed social changes, such as what I’ve alluded to above, but the “colonial state” needs to ultimately divest its own power.

I’ll try to summarize my points now. Major corporations and economic elites need to be drastically reined in and disempowered (along with the military). The transition to renewable energies needs to be quickened—but also needs to be accompanied by drastic changes to infrastructures and supply chains so as to result in less extraction and consumption. Localized communities need to be empowered so they can better care for themselves without much out faraway aid. Indigenous peoples need to be given their lands back, be elevated to leadership roles in caring for and regenerating said lands, and be empowered so they can rebuild their cultures. Settlers should learn from them as well. In the end, the state and the socio-economic system that it has upheld need to recede—not for billionaires or grand inquisitors or dictators, but for ordinary people and the earth. In truth, humans are meant to be a part of nature, and the generational challenge is for humanity to reconcile with the rest of nature.

This all may sound idealistic or radical. This past summer has shown us that we shouldn’t settle for anything less than radical social change. This nation, which has been a major world power for over a century, needs to be radically reimagined. This all may sound vague as well. I have little education in politics and governance apart from what I’ve tried to learn for myself across the internet. That is all the more reason for people like you—people with more real-world power than I—to push along radical social change. This letter is meant to raise awareness of your duty as a leader. A leader is meant to be a guide, not a dominator. There’s a chance that you could be recorded in history as a leader who did what was necessary to make the world’s healing and renewal possible.

Thank you.

You may call me Brian Solomon Whiterose.

#environment #environmentalism #indigenous rights #indigenous people #us politics #social justice #social reform #colonialism #capitalism #long text

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t0bey · 5 years ago

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plum drop the essay on fuyu/peko and mondo/taka paralelles !!!! i am curious

ask and u shall recieve (inserting my first ever page break because holy FUCK this got long)

oke! I guess I’ll start off with Peko’s initial conception as a character, which was the main initial comparison danganronpa intended between Peko and Kiyotaka.

I’ve noticed danganronpa has a tendency to re-use character tropes or roles after each game, tho their fates end up differently. For example, Chihiro was the smart, cute, and sweet character who ended up dying early on and had little significance outside of alter ego afterwards. Chiaki is the same, except if Danganronpa took Chihiro’s character and made her one of the main protagonists that has much more significance in the game.

The staff of SDR2 confirmed that they based Peko off of Kiyotaka, from their intense red eyes (which was intentional) + predominately b&w colorscheme, they both have swords, and their characters are tied to justice, though in different ways. Not to mention both are meant to be extremely disciplined, but ultimately struggle at socializing due to their rough backstories. But that’s where Peko’s ties to Taka as an initial concept end there, because the parallels between Peko/Taka and Fuyuhiko/Mondo are a whole ‘nother ballpark.

Before bringing that up though, we should note that while their designs are significantly different, Mondo and Fuyuhiko are extremely similar in terms of their backstory and personality (down to their ability to curse like a sailor). Both struggle with an inferiority complex (Fuyuhiko w/ how he isn’t taken seriously because of his babyface, Mondo w/ how his self esteem is really fragile and gets jealous of others when he acknowledges them to be stronger than him). Both act like tough, aggressive lone-wolfs (well, Mondo pre-sauna anyways), but have been stated to have a soft side, to the point they doubt their capabilities of being a tough leader because of it. They both even have a sibling they both believe would be a better leader than them (Daiya and Natsumi). BASICALLY fuyuhiko and mondo are the same role, being the intimidating gang leader that no one should fuck with, but in actuality has a lot of insecurities behind that facade.

Ok, ok, time to the ACTUAL relationship parallel analysis. We now know why Peko/Taka are meant to be parallels, and we can definintely make a solid claim for Fuyuhiko and Mondo. This isn’t new for Danganronpa, in their tendency to use patterns but give them a different twist depending on the game. Which is exactly what happened in regards to chapter 2 of THH and SDR2, respectively.

The games’ chapter 1s are simple: meant to introduce the characters/game/stakes. Leon and Sayaka’s deaths were tragic, but the emotional impact of them wasn’t the main priority by the writers. Only to show that this was, indeed, a Killing Game where anyone’s possible to die. But chapter 2 of danganronpa is intended to be the chapter where you’re introduced to just how emotional and tragic the games can actually be, meant for maximum heartbreak (for both the characters and the player).

Chapter 2 of THH was where the different students’s relationships between each other became more solid. Sakura and Aoi were good friends. Toko’s obsession for Byakuya first solidified. Hifumi being Celeste’s servant, etc. Taka and Mondo’s fast developed friendship is no different. After the sauna, the two clicked so much that they believed calling each other just a friend wasn’t really accurate, and settled on calling each other brother instead. While they don’t have memories of their close friendship during Hope’s Peak at this time, it’s heavily implied that their closeness during that time made them subconsciously gravitate towards each other so fast, which could also be seen with Sakura and Aoi, and how Chihiro was able to find Makoto familiar during their introduction.

Peko and Fuyuhiko’s relationship could be considered to be just as close. The two grew up together, quite literally since they were kids. Like Taka and Mondo’s relationship pre-sauna, Fuyuhiko and Peko’s relationship was somewhat strained, though it’s more deeply rooted than two extremely contrasting guys clashing over their perceptions of each other. Fuyuhiko is extremely insecure in his place as the Kuzuruyuu clan’s head, and sees Peko’s desire to protect him and carry out his commands as an unwanted crutch that challenges his desire to be independent, as well as extremely worrying considering how because of this, Peko devalues her own life and worth as a person. Fuyuhiko very much loves Peko as a person, and as such tried to distance himself from her during their time on Jabberwock Island. Though unfortunately, Peko took this as him loathing her in general, further cementing her desire to be his “tool” because if he couldn’t stand being around her, she might as well make herself useful to him.

Now. Finally to get into the explicit parallels between the relationships of Kiyotaka/Mondo, and Peko/Fuyuhiko. Peko and Taka’s perspective on their relationships is a great starting point.

Each game’s chapter 2 shows just how willing both Taka and Peko are willing to go in order to protect Mondo and Fuyuhiko. Peko’s motive for killing Mahiru wasn’t to escape, but to in her eyes save Fuyuhiko from the Killing Game, by using herself as his tool to carry out muder, and have everyone incorrectly vote for her so Fuyuhiko could get away. She was his bodyguard in the truest sense of the word. Now in THH’s chapter 2, instead of fighting against Mondo in proving his guilt, you’re fighting Kiyotaka. He refuses any evidence you throw at him, arguing relentlessly to prove Mondo’s innocence, to the point the only reason he stopped was because Mondo told him to. And you later find out, in chapter 3, that Kiyotaka felt so determined to prove Mondo’s innocence was because he felt like it was his responsibility to, as he cared for Mondo so much.

So, in a way, Taka considers himself Mondo’s bodyguard. Just without the years worth of reinforcement that you’re nothing but a tool to be used which makes you devalue your own worth as a person. (Not that his self esteem and willpower wasn’t ultimately crushed by Mondo’s execution, but that’s only because the circumstances he lost him was undenyingly brutal considering the Killing Game). While the circumstances of Peko’s desire to protect Fuyuhiko are really murky and problematic considering how she was raised, Danganronpa confirmed that she protected him so much because of her care for him, to the point she was willing to sacrifice her own life to assure that Fuyuhiko is safe. And Kiyotaka was willing to go to the exact same drastic measures, by voting for himself.

It’s also worth noting that in the stage play, he willingly accepted to be punished alongside him by doing this to make sure Mondo doesn’t die alone.

So from my own understanding, Super Danganronpa 2 took the tragedy of Mondo and Taka’s relationship, and flipped it so that while it still follows its signature use of repetitive patterns, they made the circumstances different, but just as heartbreaking. And how? Because they took the Taka of the relationship, and made Peko the culprit. It’s not the Mondo this time, which is who you’re supposed to expect to be the culprit, because of your expectation from THH’s trial 2.

Peko tried her best to protect Fuyuhiko, much like Kiyotaka tried to after he recognized the fact Mondo was the blackened. Both were, at the expense of their classmate’s and their own lives, were willing to protect them both, no matter what. Peko took a more active role in trying to do this however, which is what Kiyotaka severely regretted not doing, as stated in chapter 3.

And Fuyuhiko is what would have happened if Mondo was forced to face the consequences of his actions (in Fuyu’s case, being partially responsible for Mahiru’s death, in Mondo’s case, Chihiro’s). Instead of Taka arguing to prove Mondo’s innocence, it’s Fuyuhiko who’s doing that for Peko. A deliberate use of subverting the pattern given to us by THH’s chapter 2.

That’s the main takeaway, but I suppose I should also address the romantic parallels while I’m at it. I personally don’t like Kuzupeko as a romantic relationship, mainly because of how Peko’s self worth and personal value of herself as a person was as a direct result from being considered Fuyuhiko’s “tool” and their professional relationship as yakuza leader/henchman. Fuyuhiko does love her as a person, but that doesn’t negate the years of psychological degradation Peko endured to consider herself as a tool. Though in typical Danganronpa fashion, they choose to gloss over the problematic aspects of their relationship while heavily implying romantic subtext between them. So while I can’t say I’m a fan, I know the game/DR3 anime says otherwise.

And as for Ishimondo, I know some will disagree with me, but I definitely feel that their relationship is heavily lined with romantic subtext as well. Not much is really explicit in the game outside of Ishida and Hifumi’s romantic rivalry for alter ego (who Taka considers Mondo), but the mangas and posters definitely show their relationship that most would consider normal for couples.

But at the end of the day? Both Peko and Taka love Fuyuhiko and Mondo, whether or not you consider both, one, or none of their relationship to be romantic. They wouldn’t have put their own lives on the line if it was anything else. And it’s that emotional connection between Kiyotaka and Mondo, and Peko and Fuyuhiko that’s meant to give you an emotional punch in the gut for THH and SDR2’S chapter 2’s, because of how far the two were willing to protect them.

#ask #spaceymedicgamer #kiyotaka ishimaru #peko pekoyama #cw kuzupeko #ishimondo #danganronpa #super danganronpa 2 #DanganRonpa: Trigger Happy Havoc

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rpd-rookie · 5 years ago

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Five Stages of Fatherhood - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Summary: Fatherhood can be wonderful but for Leon Kennedy, fatherhood is scary and he is not ready for it at all. How is he going to process your unexpected news?

Author’s note: I wanted to release this one-shot for Father's Day but it was far from being finished. But here it is. I was mainly inspired by the recent posts I saw on Tumblr. I hope I did Leon justice and that you'll love this story as much as I loved writing it. Don’t forget to like/reblog and give me your impression.

Tags: Angst; Fatherhood ; Depression; Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism ;Anxiety; Language

Also Available on AO3

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.

They say those are the five stages of grief. Five stages you must overcome to be at peace with yourself. Five stages you must experience, however hard and painful they are, to find the strength to pull yourself back together and keep on living. Leon knew those five stages all too well. He had experienced them more times than he could count through all those years fighting since the Raccoon City incident. They had paved his life, making him wonder why and if he would ever see an end to it all one day. But what he didn’t know is that he was about to experience them again. But in a new unexpected way he would have never imagined.

1. Denial

I’m pregnant. Three simple words that made his simple life suddenly not so simple anymore, repeating and echoing in his head, making him feel like his whole world was suddenly crumbling around him, over him, burying him under rubbles of fear and uncertainty. I’m pregnant. He didn’t just hear that. This was a dream, a hallucination due to sleep deprivation or a silly joke. It had to be. Because it couldn’t be real. This couldn’t happen to him. There was no way he had gotten you pregnant. Yes, you were fooling him. Right? … Right? He had a brief forced laugh, anxiety eating him up slowly. “Please tell me you’re joking.” Pinned to his desk chair, he stared at you waiting for a silly answer or an amused grin. He obviously got neither of them and so he immediately froze, watching you frowning at him with a look that was way too grave and serious to his taste. “Do you really think I would joke about something like this?” Why not? Anything would be better than those three words being the truth. “How can that be so absurd to you that I might be pregnant?” Pregnant? He felt suddenly dizzy. No fucking way.

Mouth slightly opened, confused and petrified blue eyes fixed upon you, and a marble immobility. That’s all that remained of Leon as he searched for something to say, something to think, something to reassure himself with, something to tell him that this conversation, this moment, was not happening right now.

Pregnant? Really? “I didn’t get you pregnant.” You stared at him in shock as he relentlessly shook his head. “I couldn’t. It’s not possible. I…” He cut himself off when he saw you looking away, huge tears suddenly flooding your usually joyful (colour) eyes.

Clearly, that wasn’t the reaction you expected from him. But that’s all his brain could process at the moment, the only thing it could find to keep him afloat, to prevent him from drowning in panic. “There must be some sort of mistake. I can’t be a father. This is not happening.” Leon was freaking out. He couldn’t deny it. The pounding of his heart in his chest was enough evidence. But years fighting BOWs had taught him not to show any ounce of panic even in the worst situations. So, mechanically, no emotion filtered through in voice, making it almost cold. Actually, it sounded so heartless it rooted you on the spot, unaware of what was going on right now in your boyfriend’s head and unable to understand that his weird reaction was just his reason trying to calm him down and help find a quick way-out before reaching an inevitable end. That inevitable end being Fatherhood.

“What are you saying?” You dared ask, your face suddenly pale because of the terrible things he implied. “I don’t want to be a father, Y/N.” He declared looking at you right in the eye. “I don’t want whatever you think is inside your womb right now.” You slumped in your chair, feeling speechless and shocked but most of all, insulted. Did he just call your child a ‘whatever’ and insinuated it wasn’t even there? Was he really denying everything? Saying you were wrong? “Take another test. I’m sure this must be some sort of mistake.” You stared at him, bewildered and fighting to prevent your tears from falling as shock was slowly yet surely turning into sorrow and anger.

2. Anger

“There’s no mistake, Leon. A gynaecologist confirmed it. I’m three months pregnant! Fuck, do you really think I denied this pregnancy on purpose?” There was a sudden knot in your throat, strangling all your words. Leon shrugged. “Honestly, Y/N, I don’t get how someone cannot realize they’re pregnant.” “Simple. Imagine your boyfriend almost dying in a bombing attack in DC, then pushing you out when you try to help him. Then one day, after an entire month watching him falling deeper and deeper into depression despite all your efforts to bring him comfort, you realise that he left without telling you where he’s going. After asking a few people, you learn that he’s decided to take some ‘vacation’ but you know all too well that this vacation of his is just him drowning himself in alcohol in some lousy hotel.” You spouted angrily, feeling all your hormones boiling inside of you. “And I guess you can also add his four weeks of radio silence and the worry you felt when you learn that he who you loved so freaking much was almost killed again in another bio-terrorist attack, this time in New York. I guess that’s a pretty good way to make you deny a pregnancy!” “Oh, so this is my fault?!” He asked, almost shouting, thinking your were accusing him when in fact you were just accusing the horrible stress and the worry you had felt for the last ten weeks or so. “I’m the alcoholic bastard who knocked you up and you’re the poor lost innocent girl? That’s what you’re saying?” “Do you even realise how hurtful you are? Do you really think that is what I want to hear right now?” You tried to block a sob, in vain and Leon sighed in exasperation as he briefly rolled his eyes. He won’t have your crocodile tears right now. “Don’t force me on a guilt trip, Y/N. Please.” He said, frozen stoicism making his features as strong and cold as marble. “Weren’t you on the pill, by the way?” He frowned, and a tear rolled down your cheek. You wiped it quickly. “You forgot it?”

You tried to answer but you knew that the second you would talk it would unleash Leon’s anger and you were not ready to bear it. “For fuck’s sake, Y/N.” Leon gritted his teeth and glared while you instinctively braced yourselves, hands holding tightly at the armrest of your chair. “You only had one thing to think about! One!” He growled, a scolding finger pointed at your face. “Take a fucking pill!” “I may have forgotten once” You whispered almost inaudibly. “Oh, you forgot?” He scoffed before slamming his hand against the wooden desk as he brutally stood up making you jump in your chair. “And then she blames me for my depression. Fantastic.” You frowned. That’s not what you had meant. “Leon…” “You’re as responsible as I am, Y/N. You may have not realised you were pregnant because of what I did but you are the one forgot to take a fucking pill. And, how could you forget? How could you screw my life, both our lives, like that?” Leon screamed as he walked in circles in his office, like a lion in a cage, except that he was lost. He was lost in fear, panic and anger. And he had no control over them. Hard to bear for someone usually so grounded. And that what was pissed him off the most in this situation. Not the news of your pregnancy but lack of control.

“Do you really think I want to be a father at the moment? Or ever? Do you really think our lives or this world are fit to welcome a kid right now?” His voice trembled, powerful emotions finally getting the better of him. A child of his could not be born in such an unsafe dark world. A child could not be part of his messed up cataclysmic life. Family was not made for him. He couldn’t be the devoted agent he was, save the world from awful monsters and have a normal life waiting for him at home. Leon had come to that conclusion years ago. And he even had accepted it long before meeting you. “No. But it’s there now. So please, let’s figure out what to do.” You begged, understanding his fear and yet still trying to reason with him. “What do you want to figure out, Y/N? I told you I didn’t want to be a father. And I thought I made that pretty clear when we had the baby conversation at the beginning of our relationship.” Crystal clear. No living together, no marriage, no children. So were the terms of your relationship. A sacrifice he had asked you to make if you truly wanted to be with him. And you had made it out of love for him. But there was someone else, someone else you loved as deeply as you loved Leon if not more.

“So what do I do?” You asked, lost, using the pronoun ‘I’ because you truly felt on your own right now. “Fuck, I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t fucking know.”

3. Bargaining

But you eventually made a choice, one Leon never saw coming. And all he got was a letter; a simple piece of paper to explain the sacrifice you had decided to make. A letter not even truly addressed to him that made him realise that words could indeed hurt more than actions because, had he had the choice, he would have taken a thousand knives in the heart over those hundreds painful tearstained words.

“My dear baby,

As I write this to you, you’re barely the size of a peach, taking a small place in my womb but already a big one in my heart in a way I never thought humanly possible. If someone had told me that one day I would love someone that intensely, that unconditionally to a point I would sacrifice everything for them, even my own life, I would have laughed to their face. But here you are, not even born and yet making me take a decision I never believed I would take. Giving up on the man I love. Yes, it’s going to be just the two of us from now on. Mother and child building a life together. Not the perfect family portrait but it will be ours and it will be full of love and tenderness. And I hope you’ll like it despite its flaws. I wish I had given you a dad but fate decided otherwise. He decided otherwise. But please, don’t hate him for that. Your dad is an incredible man. A man I love and will always love. A man that will always be a part of me whatever I do. A man that offered me the chance to be a mother. But he is not ready to make a room for you in his heart the way I did. I guess he would have under other circumstances but you don’t need to know them just yet. What you need to know is that your dad is a hero and that heroes sacrifice themselves. Always. Remember him that way. As a selfless man who chose the safety of the world – the world you live in - over his own happiness, because he’s done too much good for you or me to hate him. But don’t worry, my baby. While Daddy is making the world a safer place, I am here to make it a loving one.

I love you,

Your mum.”

That letter stayed on his coffee table for days, lying there for him to read again and again, next to a bottle of fine old whisky Leon would empty one glass after another, one regret after another, begging God –even though he did not believed in him – to bring you back to him.

There’s nothing worse than regrets, nothing worse than sitting alone with yourself and wait for sorrow to finally drown you, nothing worse than being lost in a maze of ‘what if’ and ‘if only’ and knowing that you cannot change anything.

What if he had made an effort? What if he had reacted otherwise and not like an ass? What if he had told you he loved you? What if he had said it would be okay? What if he had simply accepted this baby? How is life would be right now?

And he imagined it. He imagined himself at home with you in his arms, hand over your belly, feeling his child kicking and rolling under his palm. He imagined your smile, your soft giggles. Your happiness. And it crushed him. It crushed him because he wasn’t able to imagine anything else. He could not imagine the dark world he knew all too well. He could not imagine the fear or the pain he always thought he would feel in this situation.

And with regrets came guilt.

If only he had made and effort. If only he had reacted otherwise and not like an ass. If only he had told you he loved you. If only he had said it would be okay. If only he had accepted your baby. His life would be so much better right now.

4. Depression

But you were gone and with you all his hopes of future happiness. You had taken everything from him, leaving him alone, in the dark and purposeless, wandering in his fancy apartment with a new bottle of liquor each evening.

Leon knew depression. But this depression, the one he was experiencing right now, was the worst he had ever experienced. Because if you were gone, it was not because of a bullet, it was not because of a bomb or a BOW. It was because of him. It was entirely his fault. And he couldn’t even change it.

You would not see him, not even talk to him, despite all the messages left on your voicemail or the letters in which he apologized and begged you to come back, telling you if was ready to change and that he was ready to welcome this baby if it meant you'd be together again. And it destroyed him.

He became a mess and he eventually did what he did best. He left, finding refuge in an isolated part of America, a lost cottage in the mountains to drink his sorrow away in peace, somewhere where no one would judge him or find him.

He was wrong about the last part. As one day, after weeks and weeks of radio silence and isolation, an old friend came to knock at his door to kick his ass back to where he belonged. Guess there was no escaping Claire Redfield.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? The Leon I know would never sit there powerlessly and accept his fate that easily.” Leon would have sent anyone packing after a sentence like that one. But Claire wasn’t just anyone. He listened to her. “You want Y/N back? Then quit your bullshit, Leon, and go find her.” “She doesn’t want to talk to me, Claire.” She scoffed, taking his glass of whisky away from him and throwing the liquid away. “So what? You’re gonna stay here for the rest of your miserable life, drinking and crying, and concede defeat? That doesn’t sound like you.” He accepted her scolding, admitting she was right but he had lost the strength to fight. “I know it’s hard, Leon. I do.” Her tone was suddenly so soft and comforting. “I know what it is to lose someone you love as deeply as you love Y/N. But you can still fix it.” “How? She pushed me out of her life. She even moved out. She doesn’t want me anymore.” Claire sighed. “How naïve you are. She loves you. She wants you back. She really does but she doesn’t want you to accept this baby just because you feel like you don’t have a choice. She wants you to want it, truly want it.”

There was a silence, a moment of introspection in which Leon felt the fear and the anxiety rushing in his veins again, knotting his stomach tightly. “I’m not ready, Claire. I’m scared.” Tears misted up his tired blue eyes. “ I know. And it’s normal. But there’s a girl in a hospital out there who’s about to give birth to your child and she needs you, now more than ever.”

5. Acceptance

His head was dizzy, his hands were clammy and his legs were trembling. As Leon was following the nurse in the neonatology wing of the maternity hospital, dressed in a hospital uniform, he wondered if it was the smell of disinfectant or the fright he was feeling growing inside of him that was making him want to puke right now. Perhaps a little bit of both. “It’s this way.” The nurse opened a door and waved him to join her by a small incubator in the middle of the room, a sweet smile on her face.

But Leon froze, completely petrified. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. All he could do was watching at his five pounds of fear sleeping few steps away from him. “Someone’s here to see you, little angel. It’s your daddy.” Daddy? The word made Leon tremble and small tears appear in his eyes, tears that instantly grew bigger when the small creature finally moved its tiny arms. “Many fathers are afraid when they come here. But I assure you there’s nothing to fear. Your baby is fragile but you won’t hurt her, I promise.” Leon’s blue eyes met briefly the nurse before fixing themselves upon the face of the little thing lying in the incubator. “A daughter?” He had a daughter? He was the father of a little girl? This tiny angel in a pink beanie right there? He approached her, instinctively, wanting so badly to see her from up close. She was so beautiful and yet so tiny.

“Would you like to hold her?” Leon nodded, without thinking twice about it and the nurse made him sit down and remove the top of his hospital uniform, informing him that it would be better for his daughter to feel his skin since it was warmer and more reassuring than any fabric.

That first contact felt weird but Leon was certain of one thing, he had never hold anything so minuscule, light and fragile in his entire life. It scared him for a second, afraid she would break, but the instinct to protect her was stronger than anything else. “I’ll leave you two alone. If you need anything I’m not far.” Leon didn’t notice the nurse leave, mesmerized by that piece of him nestled in his arms right against his naked chest, watching her with wonder and awe, barely believing that he had made this … that you both had made this. “You’re so perfect.” He whispered as he dared caress her soft tender rosy cheek. His skin felt so rough against hers that she grimaced slightly. “So pure.”

Her hands were so little, just like her feet. Leon touched her fingers, still impressed by their size and shivered when they suddenly grabbed his index. “Wow, how strong you are, little princess.” He grinned, looking at her weak grip until he felt a pair of eyes staring at him.

They were dark and blue, soft innocent baby eyes scrutinizing him with astonishment, discovering his face and bonding with him in ways Leon had never thought possible. He could see the world in those blue eyes just as much as his daughter was discovering the world through his. And he could feel love, strong and unconditional, a love he would never be able to feel for anyone else, he was sure of it. A fatherly love. One that would make him move mountains just for the sake of protecting his child. One that would make him give up his life for hers. How beautiful yet how scary.

And he cried tears of joy and guilt, happy to have her in his life and yet sorry that he hadn’t be there for her sorry. He had missed too much. First echography, first move, first kick, first cry. All that because of fear and stubbornness. And he felt awful because of it.

A hand pressed gently on his shoulder. Leon turned around to see you standing next to him, a tired smile on your face. “Y/N” You knelt by his side, softly caressing the head of your daughter who had fallen asleep in the strong arms of her father. “I’m sorry... I am so sorry. I should have been there for you.” “ You’re here now. And that’s all that matters.”

Yes, he was here and he would remain here, by his daughter’s side and by yours, until his last breath. For first steps, first words, first birthday, first drawing, first day at school, first love, first heartbreak. He would forever be here for her and make the world a safer place for her. He had finally found a reason to keep fighting. And it was five pounds of pure love.

Little (baby’s name) Claire Kennedy.

Making his life brighter despite five stages of fatherhood he would willingly go through again if it meant he could hold her in his arms forever.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #one shot #fanfic

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perezpjaren · 4 years ago

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What Makes A Good Filipino Citizen

When I was a kid, I used to think that as long as you know the National Anthem, you show respect to the country, and you help your fellow Filipinos, you are a good Filipino citizen. However, as I grew up, I came to the realization that it wasn’t that simple. A major turning point for me happened during the height of the war on drugs. To combat the Philippines’ drug problem, President Rodrigo Duterte commanded police and armed forces to extrajudicially kill people they either suspect or confirm to be drug dealers or users. At first, I felt pretty indifferent if not supportive of it because I believed it had good intention – to bring criminals to justice. But then, news of falsely accused people being unjustly slain started to blow up. 2017 was especially eye-opening for me when the story of Kian delos Santos, an innocent teenager who fell victim to the extrajudicial killings, came to light. These brutal events proved to me that my understanding of what makes a good Filipino citizen is immensely naïve. And to this day, as I become more exposed to the realities and injustices of our country, I feel more than obligated to learn the answer to the question “What makes a good Filipino citizen?”

As a start, I employed the help of my best friend Len and her mother Manang by asking for their opinions. I had these questions for them:

1. Are you proud to be a Filipino? What do you think makes a Filipino a Filipino? Do you identify yourself more in terms of your regional ethnicity or as a Filipino in general?

2. Have you experienced any issues on cultural sensitivity and diversity?

3. What makes a good Filipino citizen? What can you do in your everyday life to be a good Filipino citizen?

With the first question, they both said they are proud to be Filipino. Manang’s answer to the second part, however, was particularly interesting and thought-provoking. She said that she identifies herself equally as a Bicolano and a Filipino, unlike Len who said that she sees herself more as a Filipino in general. And according to Manang, being proud of both one’s regional ethnicity and one’s nationality is what makes a Filipino a Filipino. Both I was astounded with this answer as I had the mindset that you should set aside your regional ethnicity and embrace your Filipino nationality more to be a Filipino. What Manang said gave me a brand new perspective on the notion of being a true Filipino.

As for the next one, only Manang recalled an experience of cultural discrimination. She told us that she was mocked and ridiculed because of her skin color. Even though I am used to hearing accounts of blatant colorism in our country, it still angers me how this colonial mindset has continued to persist among us. Len, who has paler skin, added that it was extremely unfair that Manang had to go through that when she herself didn’t have to.

And for the last question, they listed down two main points. The first one is that we should be law-abiding citizens. The next point though is what they gave the most emphasis in. They said that the most important thing that we must do to be considered good citizens is to make sure we are aware and are participating in what’s happening in the Philippines. Len specifically stated that registering for the elections is the best action that we do right now. She stressed how it’s vital that we vote for the right people and that we encourage others to do so.

Len and Manang provided excellent responses to my questions. In general, their mindset of what makes a good Filipino citizen can be summarized into three main points – one must be proud of their identity, must be strongly against cultural discrimination, and must be actively involved in the country. I think the reason behind this lies on their personal experiences and views. According to them, they are constantly trying to make ends meet that Len had to pause college and look for a job. Manang said that even though hard work is an admirable trait for young people to have, it shouldn’t come at the cost of having to stop their education. They would also share and agree on observations of their neighbors. Manang mentioned how sad she is that many children, including her grandchildren, in their neighborhood has no resources to go to school and also added how there has been an alarming increase in teenage pregnancy in where they live. Len attributed that to the considerably high unemployment rate among the parents of these children, stating that without enough money to sustain anything except basic necessities, children are left with no choice but to grow up faster. These to them are clear indications that change must happen. And for that to come true, we must become good Filipino citizens. With their insights, I continued on my search.

I decided to first revisit the origin and the meaning of the word “citizen”. According to Aristotle, a citizen is someone who participates in the political life of the state. Contrary to our usual understanding of politics, politics meant something different for Aristotle and the Ancient Greeks. Politics refer to the activities and ongoings inside the city-state or the Polis. That would mean that every citizen within the Polis, regardless of standing and identity, is a valuable participant in politics. Furthermore, being a citizen means being free. A citizen has the freedom to speak, compare their views with those of others, persuade others, arrive at common agreements, act, initiate new beginnings, and organize. This Athenian definition of citizen is helpful in recontextualizing our image of a good Filipino citizen. It is true that us Filipinos are actively involved in the political sphere of our country, but most of us see it more as a hierarchy of rulers and followers. Some of us idolize certain figures that we end up voting for them to rule over us, not represent us. Our prevalent idea of a good citizen is someone who merely follows the rules regardless of its implications and never challenges the rulers who made them.

After that, I looked up more on nation and culture and its extension with nationalism. Benedict Anderson describes nation as an imagined community that is limited and sovereign. There is so much to unpack from this but at its core, nation is seen as a group of different people that share a diverse culture. Culture is a set of shared experiences and history that serves as the foundations of a nation. It constantly evolves and strengthens the identity of its people. It is extremely clear how nation and culture are fundamental aspects of our lives as humans and how important it is that we put in our best effort to protect and fortify its integrity. This is where nationalism comes in. Nationalism is the act and virtue of placing importance in the nation and its culture when making and institutionalizing executive decisions and actions that will significantly affect the lives of its citizens. Often confused with patriotism, scholars emphasized that nationalism serves and advocates for the rights and welfare of the people in a nation rather than its pride and ego as a collective. Although this is how it’s defined, history shows us that this hasn’t always been the case. Duterte’s war on drugs is a vivid example of misguided nationalism. Instead of reassuring the safety and security of the Filipino people, the war on drugs was more inclined on presenting the Philippines to the world as “clean and disciplined” thanks to the administration’s great efforts. It never had the Filipino public at its best interest. It was more of a publicity stunt to show off the power the government holds. This is obviously worthless if not even destructive for the entire Filipino nation and culture. It had no sense of genuine nationalism that the country needed especially at the time.

Now, going back to the question “What makes a good Filipino citizen?” The answer lies on intelligent citizenship. Equipped with the knowledge and true understanding of citizen and nationalism, we can slowly build up our plans on achieving intelligent citizenship. We begin by introducing ourselves to our main essence as citizens, freedom. We must fully embrace our inherent right to speak and act freely. We can only be true citizens if we are free from any restrictions placed by other people like censorship, silencing, and killing. To fully achieve freedom, we must start manifesting what comes with our freedom in ourselves. We do that by practicing our right to act, organize, and initiate new beginnings. Together, we can work towards reclaiming what was taken away from us by people who didn’t see us equally. We need to realize that our current understanding of politics does not embody its true Athenian origin. This must be changed as we have as big of a part in politics as those who are in position. We, normal citizens, own politics, not the other way around.

With that being said, we should also keep in mind that freedom has its own setbacks. Freedom to speech and action can also breed lies and misinformation. This is why we must advocate for education especially for young people who are impressionable and easily influenced. It is important for us, people who were given the chance to learn, to extend to those who haven’t yet. Another thing is that freedom does not guarantee us a unified mindset and a preferential treatment to our truths. There will be people, educated or not, who will go against what we stand for. So for us to truly progress, we should be approaching this through genuine dialects and productive conversations with one another. We must also accept in ourselves that along with our ability to persuade, we ourselves can be persuaded. And through education and patience, we know when and where we have to do which.

And much like the meaning of citizen, we must also recognize and understand true nationalism. Especially now when more and more are suffering, it is time we initiate actions that amplify the voices of the Filipino people. Fishermen in the West Philippine Sea, for example, are in desperate need of our help to protect and fight for them from international threats that seem to go unnoticed by officials with the lack of response. Indigenous groups like Lumad tribes are being constantly raided and bombed by soldiers who were sworn to protect all Filipinos because of cultural discrimination. These are just a few examples that highlight the importance of nationalism. We must uphold the inherent value of every Filipino. No matter what language they speak, what customs they follow, what color their skin is, and who they are. Every Filipino deserves the right to live.

Without a doubt, being a good Filipino citizen is not easy. It goes beyond knowing the National Anthem, respecting the country, and helping your fellow Filipinos. It is a draining and tiring endeavor that we will have to do every day. It can seem too idealistic, unrealistic, and maybe even impossible. But, this is the only way we can have a future that we can be proud of. Like all of the heroes in history, we must continuously stand up for ourselves. We don’t need to go full on from the get go. We can start small by helping a friend in need, a family, or a small neighborhood. And if we can’t do that, we can vote and support people that will be able to help them. Every small act of compassion and love for our nation, people, and culture is a huge contribution. What’s important is that we don’t stay silent and meek. Because if we do, we may never live to see what could’ve been a great nation of great people.

References: Kian delos Santos Case | Nation, Culture, and Citizen | Intelligent Citizenship

#citizenship training #nation #culture #citizen #intelligent citizenship #filipino

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henpendrips · 5 years ago

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Top Ten #2 - God of War II (PS2)

Ok, at this point I must be pulling your leg, right? And yes, I am... in the most visceral and unecessarily brutal way possible.

Ahh, God of War 2. The miracle game that served as the perfect send-off to the PS2 era, as it took all the vacuous words that would be used to describe a big, innovative AAA game (then and now), and actually live up to it. Yes, it is epic, grandiose, daring. But above all else, it's a fucking fantastic hack-n-slash/spectacle fighter, and unquestionably my favorite entry in one of my favorite game franchises.

Straight off the success of its predecessor (and before all the comics, books, and lovely prequels sans Ascension), back we are at the helm with Kratos, as he goes from god to empty-stomached mortal in a single tutorial level. An astounding tutorial level, mind you, as we slice and dice the forces on the Island of Rhodes, pursued by a sentient Colossus, only to have the spiffy, uber-powerful Blade of Olympus dangled in our faces, and snatched away at the last second... along with Kratos' innards. But I suppose a paper cut like that is reason enough to get a guy who's been double-crossed by several Olympians to go on a quest to the ends of the Earth, and find a way to change his fate. And also murder gods.

Say it with me: GoW2 is the right kind of sequel, taking what worked in the original, building it up, and filling the game with more AND better content. Not only are the stakes raised, the world expanded, the environments more varied, but every aspect of gameplay is improved upon. Enemy types are far more distinct, so tactics and approach more frequently alter compared to GoW1, from killing riders and taking control of cyclops, to deflecting projectiles, magic, and even melee strikes using the Golden Fleece. Key items such as the Amulet of the Fates and Icarus' Wings, improved exploration and puzzles thanks to their mechanics. The new magic abilities have a more distinct flair and usage than those attained in GoW1, from Typhon's Bane going from simple magic arrows to creating giang tornados, Cronos' Rage generating chain-lightning that would tag and damage every monster that came near, to the brutal Atlas Quake cataclysming everything around you. Oh, and Euryale, Medusa's fat sister, also loses her head in this adventure.

But the weapons, oh-ho-ho BOY! You liked the Blade of Artemis, how it provided a bit of different melee combat compared to the Blades of Chaos? Well in GoW2, you get THREE completely distinct weapons to brutalize these poor creatures of myth alongside the newly minted (in blood) Blades of Athena. Barbarian Hammer for heavy impact, pushback, and the ability to summon some soulsy minions (in the same vein as Army of Hades); Spear of Destiny, with greater range and piercing ability, faster but more focused strikes, and generating crystal bombs; and as your reward for clearing the game, the Blade of Olympus, which... is just great, and I'm glad that it isn't given to you until the final boss fight against Zeus, because from first gutting to last, the antecipation, the little taste you get during the tutorial, and the narrative reasons why you're trying to get it back, makes it all worthwhile to use it in New Game +. Alongside a wider range of costumes, all with different abilities and effects, to spice up your experience and replays.

I would say that God of War 2 wins out among all God of War games, not because the other entries in the series that I've played (so no God of War 4 yet) are bad, but because there's never really the same indulgence as there is in GoW2. Numbuh 3 is far more generic in terms of level design and environments, but it might've won out thanks to its pay-offs, if it hadn't been for what felt like a more limited and less varied arsenal, with magic assigned directly to its four melee weapons, three of which seemed redundant and could have had more done to make their usage more distinct. And while it is one of my personal 10/10 games, the ending of GoW2 really is the worst part of it, as even when it originally came out, having a blatant "To be continued" AFTER you establish a huge climax didn't really go down well with me, in spite of everything leading up to it being balls-to-the-walls mind-blowing.

I don't think I can ever do God of War 2 justice, as to why it is I consider it so enjoyable, why I have so much fun when I play it, and why I became so invested in this series after two games in. But despite it all, while the struggle was real, there can be only one #1, and rightfully, only one game could have possibly have me asking Kratos, the one-man liquifying machine, to come down a step.

#art #artists on tumblr #god of war #GoW2 #kratos #blades of athena #top ten #videogames #fanart #illustration #print

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cant-blink · 4 years ago

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Of Different Tongues

Summary: Gigan’s first attempts to court Ghidorah goes about as well as you’d expect.

It would be the first time Gigan meets Ghidorah after successfully capturing him into Nebulan captivity.

The dragon is in chains in a containment room, just until the alien roaches are certain the mind-control chip is working as intended with their action tapes. Gigan didn’t really care about what they were doing; he waited long enough to meet this beautiful golden kaiju. He wanted him, NOW. It’s the first time he’s ever felt this warmth in his chest, this desire to have a partner for the rest of his life. Normally, he just takes what he wants from whatever female the Nebulans shoved into his room, and then eat them as a post-coital meal after.

But this one... he’s different. Or they, he still doesn’t know yet how those three heads functioned. From the second he saw them emerge from that asteroid to confront him, his heart was fluttering. He’s seen pictures of this creature, fought in artificial simulations as practice, but those images didn’t do any justice to seeing them in person! Those golden scales were flawless like a well-preened female, and those massive wings that caught the light with every movement brought such an intense need in him. Those red eyes glaring into the remnants of his soul will forever be engraved into his memory. And the battle that ensued couldn’t be more perfect; it was glorious! Brutal! Having to hold back whilst this hydra tried to murder him, such a thrill!! They not only looked gorgeous, but they fought with the same lust for death that he did. They were perfect for each other!

Forget whatever plan the Nebulans had, they were brought together by the fates for a reason! And that reason was for Gigan to make them his!

He walks into the room with confidence. Kaiju-sized doors were something he taught his Masters to install into every part of the ship, because otherwise, he made it a point to blast through the walls instead. Thankfully, they knew better than to lock him out of here, although he does hear the Nebulans speak into his mind.

“Gigan, this is currently a restricted area. Turn back now.” But he ignores them; he always pushed his luck and then dared them to do something about it. They rarely ever did. “Gigan, we’re serious! Ghidorah isn’t ready yet!” “Gigaaaan... Go to your room!” “Gigan, if you get yourself damaged, don’t come crying to us!” “Kids these days never listen.”

The dragon is watching him with all six eyes narrowed. There is a growl from them, but Gigan is undeterred. His body acts on its own and he fluffs up his feathers and fans out his sails as wide as he could to show interest in this potential mate, put them at ease that his intentions are pure. He’s never done this before, but he trusts. The dragon’s growl lessened only slightly as they continued watching him, before they flare out their own wings and stood up taller to tower over him.

Unbeknownst to him, Ghidorah had completely misread Gigan’s display as a sign of fear and is actually trying to intimidate the cyborg further by increasing his own perceived size.

And unbeknownst to the dragon, this in turn is misread by Gigan, who looks up at him with awe and desire. His instincts tell him that this is a sign that the dragon is into him too, returning his display with their own!

Great!

...

... Now what?

The Nebulans have learned the hard way that Gigan’s courtship instincts were stunted by his unnatural upbringing in their care. Perhaps keeping him in complete isolation for most of his life wasn’t such a good call, but what’s done is done. This is actually the first time they’ve seen him do THIS much, and it’s towards their newest kaiju weapon?! They gave Gigan the finest specimens of his own kind that they could afford and he used and abused them like they were nothing more than toys. Didn’t help that he would eat them when he got bored so there was nothing left to be salvaged. They tried everything to make their breeding program work! It all failed so badly that they gave up on the idea of their prized weapon bonding with a mate entirely.

Yet here he is...

He’s gone smitten over a creature not even of his own species!!

Well, at least that meant their partnership will go smoothly on Earth, which is what’s important. So they sat and watched the process, but something was wrong. Gigan seemed confused; while at this point, the courtship would usually turn into a dance, their pet was left standing there like a dumbass. It was almost painful to watch...

But Gigan saves face; he’ll wing it! Make his own rules!! Time to flirt...

..... He’s never flirted before. Fuck, wing that too!

“Hey, babe,” he starts his greeting with a smirk, leaning against the wall all non-chalant. “Ghidorah, right? Name’s Gigan.”

Ghidorah watches him for a long moment, those faces unreadable, and Gigan was starting to feel a bit awkward before they finally respond. Oh, the three heads talk at the same time, in different pitches working in harmony. Their, -his!-, voices were beautiful and Gigan’s lust for him grew all the more. Damn, is there anything about this dragon that wasn’t so damn hot?!

So mesmerized he was in those voices that he almost didn’t realize one crucial fact: the dragon is speaking in a language he doesn’t recognize! It’s the first time he’s ever come across a language that isn’t automatically translated in his mind. Shit! He falters, before clearing his throat.

“Do you speak Kaiju?”

The dragon tilts his heads slightly and responds again in a confused tone. But Gigan has no clue what he’s saying...

Welp, he knows what he’s doing tonight, and it ain’t mating this hydra like he expected. Dammit! “Right. I’ll see ya around, babe.” And that was the last thing he said to salvage the situation before he turns around and leaves the room.

But it isn’t over yet, far from it. Because Gigan is no quitter and something as simple as a language barrier wasn’t going to stop his pursuits!

So he spends all night not in his nest, but sitting with his Masters, researching the matter intently. Replaying the words that the beautiful hydra spoke to him in his mind over and over, and sending that recording through the database’s files. Any resource he had at his disposal, he was using it! Even space-Google was utilized! The Nebulans tried to help him, quite a few of the insects sitting on his shoulders and head whilst searching through their portable devices.

“Technology has never failed,” they reassured him. “The answers exist somewhere in the Universe’s database, we just have to dig a bit. And that’s something we’re very good at.”

Finally, after hours of tireless work, which deprives the cyborg of his beloved sleep, he finally gets somewhere! And it turned out to be so simple, he almost blasted the Nebulans himself. Almost.

Turns out, Ghidorah is speaking an ancient language of an extinct race. The same race that created the dragon in the first place. Fuckin’... Gigan sighs. At least it’s something. And the Nebulans seem to be happy, as they were convinced that they’ve unlocked the final piece of the puzzle to make the dragon’s mind-control chip work as intended! As to what those beautiful words spoken to him meant?

“You’re an idiot. Your insects are idiots. You come in here wasting my time and taunting my chains. But when I break free, I’m going to destroy them and everything else that you know and love.”

Well, then...

He’s undeterred by those insults and threats and he installs this ancient language into his translator. Everything was coming together and he gives his head and body a shake to force the roaches to fly off of him. As much as he appreciates their help, -he can always rely on his insect parents to pull through for him-, right now, he has to do this alone.

He makes his way back to the dragon with a happy grin and confident strides. The dragon seemed to be in as foul of a mood as he was earlier, but surely he’ll change his mind when he hears Gigan speak his own tongue! How can the hydra not reward such efforts?

He cleared his throat again, a smirk returning to his beak as he speaks his first words in this new language, a simple greeting.

Ghidorah is staring at him with slightly widened eyes, not responding at all, and Gigan wonders if he perhaps messed something up. Damn his tired mind, probably had it set on the wrong langua-

“You really can’t take a hint, can you, ‘Gigan’?”

The cyborg almost fell over. Ghidorah spoke that in perfect Kaiju language! Wha... But... How did- The three-headed wyvern didn’t seem to know any of it when they met just yesterday! His beak opened dumbly for a moment before he found his voice. “You can speak Kaiju...”

“Of course I can,” the dragon growled. “Last I checked, I’m a kaiju.”

“But you were just-” It suddenly dawned on the cyborg. This sneaky gorgeous little bitch... He couldn’t help but chuckle. Maybe it was his lack of sleep, but the idea of being angry over all his wasted time and effort didn’t occur to him. “You were only pretending not to understand me, huh? Alright, babe, you got me there.”

He once more leaned against the wall, a hook toying with one of the chains fastened to the hydra’s body. “Well, now that your little masquerade is over, how about we continue where we left off?”

“How about you listen carefully because I’m only going to say this once,” Ghidorah leans a face closer to Gigan’s as far as his chains would allow and hisses once more in that ancient tongue. “Leave me alone.”

Thus, the first of many times he will be saying that to this cyborg.

#gigan #ghidorah #king ghidorah #godzilla #gigadorah #preview of a future series #just in case i never get it done lol

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ziracona · 5 years ago

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I once read a theory about white glowing eyes being a sign of a killer being brainwashed/mind controlled, which is why Wraith, Spirit and Deathlinger hunt after survivors even though they have little to no reason to do so. If it's okay, could you please write how they would react if the mind control went off one day and they realised what they were doing the whole time?

Oh yeah! I’ve always considered the Entity-touched eyes to mean the killer has their visual perception of the world intentionally altered, and since Caleb canonically is made to hallucinate and has the same effect on him, considered that more or less confirmed by his chapter. I haven’t heard brainwashed/mind controlled before, but I can give that a go. If I’m remembering correctly, Hillbilly has that as well.

Rin would be horrified. The Entity literally turned her into the thing she hated—into something like her father, who gives in to rage and mutilates and kills innocent people. She’s done the same thing to girls her own age her father did to her, and with no ability to stop it. Realizing she’s been used to do that? It would destroy her. She would be overcome with sorrow and confusion, and terrified, because she has no idea how to stop it, or if it’ll just happen again. And she would be so sorry, but what would you even say to someone you’d done that to? It all suddenly feels so impossible and scary and lost beyond repair. She’s a corpse and a killer, and she’ll never be free, and she’s beyond heartbroken.

Max would be confused. For so long, he’s been fighting off threats and he’s been hooking them because he wants to, right? Because it’s how he warns other people not to come to his home. But suddenly, the control on him is just gone, and it doesn’t make sense anymore. Where is he? How did this happen? What took him, and what is wrong with him to make him think this was normal? The farm is all wrong, and there are barriers he can’t get through, and it hasn’t been new threats—it’s been the same people! Over and over and over again, and he knows he killed them, but they’re back? And why? Why did he hook them? What was the thing in the sky? How did it make him do this? What else has it made him do? What can it make him do? What will it? Is this clarity just for a moment? Is he going to lose it again? And he’s scared then. He’s suddenly bricked up behind the wall, and the thing keeping him chained up is using him for sport he doesn’t want to be a part of, and mocking him, and hurting him, and he can’t beat it. Can’t get free. Can’t save himself. He’s back were he was as a kid, and the PTSD all comes back and hits him like a truck, and he’s terrified, and frenzied, just bashing himself against the barrier to his little cell of a realm, trying to get free, trying to save himself, and he sees it coming to claim him again, and there’s nowhere to run, and he just has to watch it get him.

Caleb is furious. He’s been used, again, and again, and again, his whole life. Every employer of any kind he ever trusted, stabbed him in the back! And it’s happened again. Somehow worse than ever before. This bastard demon monster dragged him from his world, and got in his head, and made him think he was getting revenge. It made him see all these total strangers as men he hated, so he’d be motivated to hurt them for it. It used his rage and his personal quest for vengeance like a dangled carrot, and moved him like a puppet, and he’s furious. He doesn’t really give a damn about the strangers, but he’s mad he was manipulated into giving them the punishment he wanted to give to Bayshore. The Entity was just…going to let him think he was getting that vengeance, forever. Didn’t even give him a real offer, or force him, or break him. It just drugged him. So that he’d do what it wanted, like so many things he’s served before. And he. Is. Angry. He doesn’t know if he’ll be controlled again. He doesn’t know if there’s a way to break it. But he writes what’s going on down in two letters. Leaves one in his jacket for himself to find, in case there is some way for him to break this control and get some god damn revenge if it takes him again, and the other, he takes, ties to a bottle of alcohol, and throws into the Survivors’ campfire area. Hoping one will see it. Because he doesn’t really give a damn about them, and they sure as hell don’t give one about him, but the enemy of your enemy is your friend, and he knows, no matter how much they hate him? They hate the Entity more. And if they can find a way to break its control, he’ll try to help them find a way to make it pay, like he has every boss who betrayed him before it, and it’s a longshot, but it’s all he’s got.

Philip is shattered. He’s spent his whole life just trying to live. Just wanting to be decent. To take no harm, to do no harm. To have just some kind of simple life, where he doesn’t have to fight to be in a small house that’s warm in the winter and cool in the hot season, and where he isn’t afraid he’ll starve, or be murdered on a street corner, and maybe can sometimes afford to go see a movie or buy a new jacket in a store every now and again. And those ambitions were still far too much. Life has seen him fit to suffer since the day he turned six. He lived through the horrors of genocide in his home as a boy, lost people, watched so many die, watched so much senseless and cruel and awful and unfathomable brutality. And he hated it. He wanted, more than anything, to be able to punish the people who burned others alive for no reason at all but a little bit of hate or a little bit of money. He wanted the people who didn’t survive the genocide to have the justice they deserved. But he had no power to do it.

He went to America, following promises of a safer and better life, and he survived, and that was nothing, but nothing was enough. He sometimes bought beers with the little extra money, and he made rent, and the food wasn’t great, but he was not afraid to starve. His job was simple, and he liked it, because he got to repair things. Some cars he crushed, but others he got to fix, and send back out, and as inconsequential as it was, the world was some fraction of a percentage better at night after work he’d done, and that felt good to him. And then he saw blood leaking out of a trunk, and rescued an injured young man from being crushed, only to watch his boss slit the man’s throat and take the life he’d just saved. He was only even able to buy the man an extra ten or so seconds of life. And then found out he’d been used to kill hundreds he hadn’t known existed, hidden in the trunks of cars, and his boss was doing it, like men always had. Killing others senselessly and brutally and mercilessly, for a little bit of hate, or a little bit of money. And so he killed his boss, to avenge the people he’d used his hands to kill. And fled, because no matter if the police or the mob found him first, it was going to be death the moment anyone did. And then the Entity took him. And it’s been years. Years of this quiet, peaceful, silent haze. Buried under so much fog. Hunting shadows, fleeting images of faces he doesn’t remember. What has he been doing? Has he really been aware of it at all? The worst part is he doesn’t know. And the control over him shuts off mid-trial, and suddenly he’s just Philip, just the Philip he’s always been, and he’s standing above a little girl, with her blood on his blade and her friend’s dead body beside her, and she’s cowering, waiting for him to kill her, and he knows he’s going to—he was going to. And he remembers all of. Every moment, like memories. But like memories he wasn’t there for. Like sleep-walking, and waking up, but gaining all the memories your eyes took in while you were asleep.

And he doesn’t understand it. He can’t. He never would have done this. But god, he did—he did. He sees himself doing it. He remembers it. And it wasn’t him, it wasn’t! He doesn’t know how, but it wasn’t! It was like being drugged, no, it was worse. There was something else in him. Moving him, and he was awake, but only a little. Buried beneath it, unable to fight back. Unable to stop it. But forced to be party to all the blood it shed. It made him something he was not, so much more completely and irrevocably and unforgivably than Azarov ever did. And there’s just. There’s no coming back from that. There’s no way to make peace with it! Or get past it! Or anything like that! It’s so beyond over. It breaks his mind. It breaks him. It’s too much to hold. He’s been using the bell. The bell that used to warn there were people coming to kill family when he was a child, and he’s been using it to announce he’s coming to kill, like he was one of the men who would enact genocide for a little bit of hate or a little bit of money. How, how has been doing this? Doing any of it. He killed one seconds ago, and there’s another at his feet now, waiting to die. And he just collapses and holds his head and screams, that muffled, choked scream from vocal chords damaged a little from their complete lack of use. And he doesn’t see anything at all for a minute, except pain and the past and the present and the possible futures, as he tries to bear more pain than is physically possible, and then he’s a little aware of the world again, and the girl is moving. She’s edging towards the sickle he dropped. And he could stop her. But he just stays still and watches her take it, and she closes her fingers around the hilt and shakily shoots to her feet and levels it at him.

Says, “Don’t move!” in a trembling voice.

Of all the things. He was about to murder her, and she’s telling him not to move. Like there’s a way she might offer not to kill him, if he complies. She’s so small. Maybe the smallest in all his memories. Maybe the smallest one there’s ever been here. In another life, she could have been him. Could have been his sister. She could have been the one walking down a road, wishing to kill people like the man who killed a friend. Maybe she’s there, right now. She must be.

He stays kneeled and looks at her for a second with eyes that, for once and only once, are his own deep brown like hers, and not glowing, and then he lowers his head and closes them and says, “Kill me.”

It’s the first thing he’s said in years. It’s the first time in years he’s had a reason to speak. He doesn’t want to take the words back.

She doesn’t. She hesitates. Says, “What?” Lost and confused. He can’t understand why on earth she would hesitate. She shouldn’t.

“I don’t know how long this will last,” he says, opening his eyes and looking up at her again. It’s hard to do. There’s blood matted in her dreads and the little pink shirt she’s wearing, and some of it is fresh, still bleeding, from where he was starting to kill her. “Kill me while you have the chance. Before I become like that again.”

“Before…?” She hesitates again. Trying to figure him out. Trying to do the right thing, somehow, even here and now. “’Like that’—you mean—you don’t…control what you do, as the Wraith? You can’t?”

“I don’t know,” he says in his voice that never speaks. He doesn’t. And he has a deep, troubling feeling, that if he lives, he is not going to remain himself long enough to understand it, either. “But that is not me. Kill me. Before I become it again. … Please,” he adds. It’s harder to get out than the rest. He doesn’t have a right to ask her for anything.

“B-but,” she stutters, suddenly so unready to kill him. She lowers the blade a little and it hurts to see. “If it’s not you—if the Entity uses your body, and you’re just somebody trapped inside, you’re a victim too. I could save you! There might be a way to stop it!”

She’s so desperate to help him. That’s almost enough to kill him on its own.

“Don’t try to save me, child,” he pleads with as much voice as he has left, “Whatever it has done to me, I have done it with it. I am not a thing to be saved. Kill me while you can. Avenge your friend.” She still doesn’t want to. He can see it in her face. She’s worried now—afraid to do the wrong thing. How can something so innocent and kind be left in her after being ripped apart so often in this hell. It’s almost comforting to see it, in spite of everything. There is no longer any hope for him, but if she is still like this, there must still be hope. For them. For other people. It will not always end for people like him like it is for him himself.

“You would be doing me a favor,” he says, because he remembers he doesn’t want her to have a death on her soul, and if she cannot see this as just, she must see it as mercy, or it will scar her too. He hesitates, lost. Thinking about what will happen if she doesn’t. Thinking again about what already has. “I don’t want to be this. Please,” he whispers. He starts crying. Or maybe he was before. He wasn’t aware, but he feels it now. Silent, but his face is cold from the breeze against it in the night air.

“I could save you,” she says again, pleading now too.

And Philip feels the Entity go inside him then. While he’s looking into her eyes. And he knows he’s going to be buried again in a second, and he may never wake back up, may just be trapped forever watching himself murder innocents like he was the kind of man who loved it. And she still has a chance to kill him if she does it now, but he sees her face, and the kindness there, and the worry, and concern for someone she should feel no concern for, and he knows even if he asks her this one last time, she will not do it, and whatever he tries, he only has an instant to do it in before he is gone again, maybe gone for good, and with everything he has of himself left in the second he has remaining, he shouts at her to run.

Also! Since I did Philip’s as a narrative, I’m doing a short one for Rin too, but under the cut. : ) Hope you enjoy these the Philip one made me cry. :’-]

It wasn’t meant to be shut off.

The plan had never been for one of the killers operating under controlled illusion and compulsion to realize what they had been living. Why would it be? That was only going to cause the Entity problems. But blight was an unpredictable biological event, even for the Entity, and this year was a little different even than most. Different, because The Blight himself was tinkering maybe a little too much. The purge this year was deep, and intense, and the killers themselves were more involved than ever, and the system broke. Not for long. More a hiccup, than anything. A burst of static. But it happened, nonetheless.

Rin wasn’t in a trial. She was in the estate, waiting, like she always did between trials. She needed to get home to kill her father. Any day, any minute now, she would get to do it and avenge her mom and be free. She was folding origami cranes. 1,000 of them, and her wish would come true. She would go home, and finish her father, and be at peace. And she was excited. Happy. A stack of paper beside her, and she had been folding for hours. This was 987. So close now, it was in her grasp. “988, 989, 990. 991, 992,” she whispered to herself as she folded cranes, trying to go faster and faster and fumbling a little in her excitement. “993. 994—” A sudden burst of wind came out of nowhere, and the crane in her hands was torn away, and the little pile she had scattered, and as she turned to look after them, vanished into the inky black sky.

She felt her eyes well up with tears. “I was so close,” she whispered to herself, heart sinking. But that’s okay, she tried to tell herself, You were so close in just a few hours. You’ll get it this time. And, consoled, she started again, back to one. Sure she’d get it this time.

She was on number 413 when the Entity’s control was suddenly lost.

Rin faltered, hands halfway to making a fold, and stared at nothing, then slowly looked down at the bird in her hands.

Oh no, she thought, unable to assign any emotion to the thoughts except a vague echo of fear, I’ve done this before. Not once before. Not twice. Not twenty. Thousands. She had done this thousands of times before. And always, always on the nine hundred and ninety-fourth one, they were blown away, and she started again.

How long have I been doing this? she thought in a panic, a deep, real fear seeping into her body.

And then it hit her for real.

Not the cranes, and the endless cycle. But the time in-between. The trials.

“No,” she whispered. She went rigid, then twitched. It was too much to bear. Memories flooded her brain and it was more pain than she was able to take. People. God, so, so many people. Some of them could have been her own age, even, and all of them she had…God. The memories were harsh and unbearable. In her head, it had been her father. She had been…been killing him. Or been—been practicing. Been getting ready. God, god, it had made so much sense to her. Like she was meditating to work her way to the real thing. But how had she thought that? It had never been him at all! It had been people, people like her! Fuck—people running, people screaming, and bleeding, and begging, and crying, and being torn to pieces at her feet.

I killed them, she thought in horror, I killed them all.

So many times. So many times. And it was the same people? How? How did she keep killing the same ones?

Where am I? thought Rin in desperation. She shot to her feet and looked around. It—it was home, but, but no, no, no, no, it wasn’t home at all! It was wrong. It was like home in a dream, where you thought you recognized the place, but the moment you woke you realized how completely wrong the structure had been, and were lost as to how it had ever felt right at all! What am I? she wondered in horror as she caught sight of the hue of her hand. Stumbling over her feet, Rin tore out to the gardens, looking for something she could see herself in, and fell to her knees by the little nearly dried up stream, and looked. And brought her hands up to her mouth in despair and fear.

She wasn’t a person anymore. She was pale, almost blue, and her arm was detached. Glass in her shoulder—god, she could feel it now. Feel the agony. And her side? It was—it was in pieces—she’d almost been ripped in two! She started to wonder how she was even still alive, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t, god, and that was so terrifying to try to truly understand. Her eyes were white like a Yurei. No. No, she realized, starting to cry, No. An Onryo.

How long had she been one? How—? NO. NO! How will I ever get free? She had to kill her father! It would be the only way to ever end this? And where was he! Where was she!

Rin stumbled to her feet and ran, looking for an exit, to—to wherever was away from here. She made it to the edge of the garden, and saw trees ahead, and tore for them, and slammed against a barrier she couldn’t see and was knocked back onto the ground.

Struggling up, Rin found the barrier and slammed her hands against it, but it didn’t budge, and no matter how hard she pushed, she couldn’t make it through.

“Help!” she called as loud as she could, crying again in the impossibility of her situation, “Please! Someone! Anybody! Can anyone hear me? Is anyone out there!”

Nothing.

The whole world was empty, except for her. She kept pounding, kept calling, kept trying to get free, but there was no change. And exhausted, she fell to her knees and cried.

“Please.” Miserable, she curled up into a little ball and wept silently, trying to make sense of all the horrible murders in her head. Thinking of how awful the night with her father had been, how impossible it had been to understand a man like him would do a thing like he had done to her mother, and then her, and how she had known for completely certain she would never ever ever do such a thing herself, and now she was just like him.

“Did…did you say, uh…’help’?” came a voice Rin didn’t know.

She looked up in surprise, and through blurry dead eyes, saw a girl she recognized—a girl with three red braids in her hair, out of breath and flushed from running, looking at her warily from about ten feet back.

Rin’s English wasn’t amazing, but she was pretty sure the girl had asked her something about calling for help.

“’Tasukete’ right?” said the girl, eyeing her with a little suspicion and a lot of confusion.

I was right! I was right, she heard me!

Rin hurriedly sat up a little and nodded.

“…Why?” asked the redhead, moving a little closer.

And Rin was suddenly not seeing her. She was seeing hundreds of versions of this girl from her past. She was seeing one form last week, that she had chopped to bits with her katana the exact way her father had killed her, and she was sick, and couldn’t say anything at all. Could barely move. She wanted to hide. Wanted to curl up in a cold dark corner and never be seen again. She wanted to wake up and find none of this had ever happened.

“ごめんなさい。” whispered Rin, because ‘Sorry’ was the only word suddenly that she could even remember anymore.

The girl seemed to know that one to, and blinked at her in surprise, and took another step closer. “…Sorry?” she asked in a very different tone of voice. Less hostile. Less wary. More worried and confused. “For—what’s going on?”

Rin felt it coming while the girl was still speaking. There was a heaviness settling on her brain, and it was a terrifying heaviness. It was like finding another person with you inside your body, who had forced their way in, but they had not only joined you, but found a way to make your body more theirs than yours. She saw her vision flicker, and the girl was her father for a second, and things made less sense and more sense at once, but the things that made more sense were all wrong and murders and millions of paper cranes that would never be enough to buy a wish. And she reached out and put her hand against the barrier and tried to warn the girl, tried to say something, but suddenly there was no girl. Just her father, glaring back at her and filling her with rage and fear and hate, and she couldn’t remember the girl or why she was here, but she knew what the thing in front of her was, and she wanted to kill it.

#ask #anonymous #dead by daylight #writing #long post #dbd #Philip Ojomo #Rin Yamaoka

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Cassandra Cain Steals the Spotlight in Young Justice: Phantoms

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This Young Justice: Phantoms review contains spoilers.

Young Justice Season 4 Episode 6

It doesn’t take a lot to bring me back in, and Young Justice: Phantoms found the sweet spot this week with “Artemis Through the Looking Glass.” It turns out all they needed to do was toss me a couple of crumbs of Cassandra Cain content and everything would be better.

It helps that this week was actually animated. The story still feels rushed, but the kinetic energy of the show is back to its normal level. A huge chunk of the episode is dedicated to a fight between Black Spider (Young Justice’s Spectacular Spider-Man knockoff) and Rictus from the League of Shadows, and Tigress, Onyx, Scandal Savage, Orphan, and Cheshire on the other side. Tigress had brought in Cheshire last week to help her figure out which of Onyx and Scandal was a potential mole, and they got jumped by the League crew during the interrogation, leading to Tigress letting both go free to use whips and heavy punches in an outstanding action sequence, full of great choreography and actually moving figures instead of last week’s weird motion comic.

One would expect the League to be after Scandal and Onyx, and they kind of are, but their immediate goal was to kidnap Orphan. Cassandra is Lady Shiva’s daughter, one of the big bosses of The Light, and she wants her kid back. Most of the emotional heft in this episode is spent on flashbacks to Artemis and Jade’s childhoods, but the point of the whole episode is to draw parallels between everyone in this new hero group. Jade and Artemis had terrible, abusive childhoods, which we see multiple times this week.

Then we have Scandal and Cass’s brutal childhoods described to us – Scandal tells us about her father, Vandal Savage, stealing her from her mom when she was four, raising her into ruthlessness, killing her sibling and eventually driving her from the League, while Cass had her vocal chords severed as an infant by her HORRIBLE mother, Lady Shiva, so she would only understand violence. This is fairly in keeping with Cassandra’s backstory in the comics, where she was (I might reiterate) the best Batgirl (and is currently, as she’s co-starring with Spoiler in a Batgirls story running through a few Bat-books).

I think then that the one in the group who’s up to something is Onyx. She’s the only one who had a not-abusive childhood, and Jade is onto her pretty well from the start, but Artemis decides she needs all the hands she can get for the fight, so Onyx and Scandal end up headed to Infinity Island with Tigress to get Cass back from Lady Shiva, who shows up at the end of the fight to take her daughter back. It’s simple and effective, but it ended up being the best episode of the season so far.

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PHANTOM PREMONITIONS

A ton of new faces popped in this week, even if we didn’t get any new hints at the season’s main baddie.

The telepath trying to get into Scandal and Onyx’s brains is Looker, an original member of the comics Outsiders created by Mike Barr and Jim Aparo. She’s kind of a low-grade Jean Grey – red hair, telepathy, telekinesis – until she got turned into a vampire in the New 52.

Jason Bard is a pretty nice pull. He was created in 1969 by Gil Kane and Frank Robbins as a good cop in the Gotham PD. He was forced to leave the force after Killer Moth blew his knee off, and he spent a bit as a Batgirl love interest. It’s a nice touch that he’s Artemis’ boyfriend, as she’s kind of the Batgirl of this show.

We’ve seen him before, but just a reminder that Black Spider is voiced by the best Spider-Man, Josh Keaton.

That cyborg looking guy with Black Spider is Rictus. He is basically evil DC Vision – he’s a super strong, flying, density controlling cyborg who’s making himself more robot as time goes on, rather than crying and having babies to prove he’s a real boy like his Marvel counterpart. He’s relatively new – his first appearance was in 2013’s Red Hood and the Outlaws #21 by James Tynion IV and Julius Gopez. I’m not sure he was less humorless there.

Onyx’s backstory in the comics was not this cool. Her grandfather here is Amazing Man, a character created in 1983’s All Star Squadron by Jerry Ordway and Roy Thomas. Will Everett was what you’d get if you crossed The Flash and Jesse Owens: an incredible Olympic athlete who, via an accident at the lab where he worked, gained the power to take on the properties of anything he touched. He’s showed up a bunch since then, most recently the Injustice: Year Zero digital first comic. You know the one, it’s got the Joker talking about how much he hates Nazis.

The post Cassandra Cain Steals the Spotlight in Young Justice: Phantoms appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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