#used in some psych study of how humans easily get attached

[sp-ud]

New rule for the eggs! They only have to be taken care of for 3 days per week, every streamer sighs in relief lmao.

[dreamwritesimagines]

It’s Chinese mafia anon-

Imma be honest this was more a fun project for me to review my developmental psych knowledge than it was about the story, mostly because we don’t know everything about clover yet. I also included some links to google drive photos and an article but I understand if you don’t want to click them since stranger on the internet danger all lol so feel free to ignore those, I just thought you’d like them.

Here we go:

TW: all manners of childhood trauma and it’s effects, with a look at what we know about clover specifically

* Possibly (Co?)dependent relationship w/ Teddy- reliant on him for security/emotional safety. If something happens to him (or people she cares about), she reacts in a way that is not proportional to the stress experienced. Overly invested in his life and wellbeing at the cost of her own

* Hypoarousal- may shut down if overwhelmed/or under extreme stress; may oscillate between the hyper- and hypo-arousal (super stress/overreacting/easily overwhelmed to shutting off emotions/not being very responsive)

* Anger is considered to be a secondary emotion- usually seen as a reaction to something rather than an emotion, such as lashing out from fear

* May have trouble with physical contact as well- may be overwhelming because she is not used to it; may react uncomfortably to being touched or only tolerate it, especially initially; may begin to crave it as she begins to get a more “normal” view of physical touch

* Attachment:

* Typically reflects the relationship with the primary caregiver as an infant and how the caregiver responded to their needs: comforted them, ignored them, reacted at them, or mixed

* According to Erikson’s theory on human development, a secure attachment is important for believing that the world (+yourself +others) is a trustworthy place

* To be redundant/obvious, but Clover clearly does not believe this, so she almost certainly had a tenuous relationship (at best) with her primary caregiver(s) as a child

* Clover strikes me as having a disorganized/mixed attachment style, but especially as Ambivalent: she tends to be extremely wary of new people/situations, when she perceives her base (people she is attached to) are leaving/have left, she tends to be extremely distressed as they do so/while they’re gone. When they return she may not react very much (besides maybe calming down), but she may still be upset and refuse to be soothed/it takes a lot to placate her. (Sorry for the weird wording- I’m trying to change the clinical situation which is usually with infants to fit clover more lololol). She may also avoid the person who left when they return which would be more indicative of avoidant, like you suggested, but the mix of styles suggests disorganized to me.

* An interesting note: the prevalence of attachment styles is largely contingent on the values of the society in which the child was raised. For example, since we’re talking about Europe, German children are more likely to be insecure-avoidant because their society values independence more than other cultures

* An excerpt from my notes that I feel is relevant: “Caregiver consistency- infants who have not had the opportunity to attach in infancy may still form initial secure attachments several years later, but may have more emotional problems of depression, anger, or be overly friendly as they interact with others”

* You can look up the ACE’s study (adverse childhood experiences) which is a landmark study that looked at the prevalence and long-term consequences of childhood trauma: tldr; besides psych issues, they also have issues with their physical health as well, as the chronic stress tends to reek absolute havoc on the body. Super super fascinating study with terrifying implications for society as a whole

* A really important note: all these things are hypothetical and based on modern, mostly American, research; it may be different from that period, especially since the societal values and expectations were entirely different. I also want to note the importance of resiliency factors. Resiliency factors are things that decrease the likelihood of the trauma having a long term impact and change how the person may adjust and their chances of having a happy, normal life. The biggest one is finding people who will support and want what’s best for you as soon as possible, which clover seems to have found with her aunt and uncle, as well as her relationship with Teddy. So I would not expect her to exhibit all of these symptoms, though it definitely depends on how long she was in that adverse situation.

* From some scientific articles I reviewed a while back:

* Children who have ACEs tend to have difficulties relating to other people (eg having empathy, how to react to social situations), trouble maintaining relationships (they don’t understand themselves or how to function in a relationship because it was never modeled for them/they never learned), issues with attentiveness (such as ADHD), imitating patterns modeled by their caregivers, etc.

* Children who have faced physical/sexual assault trauma are more likely to present with symptoms that line up with the traditional PTSD model, but children who have faced other types of trauma (verbal, emotional, etc.) are likely to display symptoms more in line with a diagnosis of developmental trauma disorder

* Important: developmental trauma disorder (DTD) aka complex-PTSD, is not formally recognized by the DSM-V (the guide for diagnosing psychiatric illnesses in the USA) but rather considered a subset of PTSD, however the IUCD, which is essentially the DSM but for the rest of the world, recognizes it as its own disorder, and research strongly suggests that DTD and PTSD are distinct from one another

**(note, cont.) a good way to remember this is to know what it means. Developmental trauma is trauma that occurs while someone is in the period of rapid development- aka infancy/early childhood, but can even include stress from when they were in the womb, such as maternal stress. Complex trauma (from complex PTSD, though this name is being left behind to help the disorder distinguish itself from traditional PTSD) is trauma that occurs over a long period of time. Instead of a single or few triggering instance(s), as is often the case with PTSD, complex trauma (in general, not just the disorder) refers to trauma that occurred over a long period of time, often years. Put together/using info from these two names, DTD/C-PTSD is prolonged trauma over the course of the first few years of a person’s life

* I do not have enough confidence to say if Clover has developmental trauma disorder since I haven’t seen enough of her character and am not an expert in the field, but it’s a definite possibility. Interestingly, I also see this with Petal, Cherie, and Elias (I think I’ve mentioned this before but just reiterating the point; those are also the only ones who stick out to me off the top of my head)

* Internalizing and externalizing problems: Long story short, internalizing problems is when people blame themselves for everything that goes wrong, and externalizing problems is when people blame everything around them/powers outside of their control when things go wrong. Leaning too far in either direction can be a problem (for obvious reasons), but in particular it does tend to present as a problem for people with developmental trauma more often than not

* There is a very long but very fascinating article explaining a lot of the long-term issues for people with developmental trauma that I have uploaded to the google drive link - If you’re interested in developmental trauma at all, it is a SUPER fascinating read (had to use google drive as the actual article is blocked by a paywall I got through through my school’s library, but I can send you the doi if you want to check it anyway/see if 12 ft ladder can get you through) anyway here’s some highlights:

* Stress can manifest itself into somatic symptoms- one common example is getting a headache whenever the person is stressed, then treating the headache and not the stress; people with developmental trauma tend to experience somatic issues, partially as a manifestation of their stress/pain, but also because of the long-term effect of stress on the body; you can also look at the ACE’s study for more info (there’s also a TED talk that summarizes the ACEs study if you’d prefer that lmfao, as well as a butt ton of articles talking about it)

* Because they have not learned how to regulate themselves or recognize themselves/what they are feeling, they often misidentify situations are being more extreme than they are and act as if their trauma is occurring all over again- aka they overreact to slights, and also have trouble recognizing things like how they are feeling in a given moment/why they are reacting the way they are

* Tend to view anything new as potentially life-threatening

* Traumatized children rarely spontaneously talk about their trauma/issues- they tend to ruminate and think about sharing before they do it

* Learned helplessness: because their trauma occurred at an age when they were powerless to do anything about it, they may then act helpless/powerless when they are reminded of their trauma in any way

* Also likely to have issues such as ADHD, learning and cognitive difficulties, etc.

*I also included some graphics with info on unhealthy coping mechanisms and tendencies lmfao that could help with ideas or whatever

Graphics/article

Anyway sorry for the long ramble (I feel like I’ve been saying that to you a lot lately LOL)

CHINESE MAFIA ANON DARLING, YOUR HAND IN MARRIAGE??????? 🥰❤️

OH MY GOD-

I am freaking outtttt! Like, I have so so many things to refer to and I will definitely read the article, but also this is incredibly interesting to me! I love learning more about psychology!

This is going to be an amazing guide for me to check Clover's behaviour and her reactions to certain things and AAAAAAA-

I'm gonna memorize this! Darling you're absolutely amazing and I can't thank you enough for this, thank you so so so much!?

Terribly sorry if I bother you with all these questions but like, do you know how...mmm, how these attachment issues/trauma can manifest in an actual relationship? Because I also feel like a lot of these will (and I will incorporate it into the chapters) at the beginning of their "courtship" aka when Clover is still in denial/trying to push him away, but like, aside from that? Because I have this HC that even when Clover acknowledges her feelings for Benedict, she might force herself to keep him at arm's length and this quote;

May have trouble with physical contact as well- may be overwhelming because she is not used to it; may react uncomfortably to being touched or only tolerate it, especially initially; may begin to crave it as she begins to get a more “normal” view of physical touch

Actually makes a lot of sense in terms of the progress of their relationship, but this;

Learned helplessness: because their trauma occurred at an age when they were powerless to do anything about it, they may then act helpless/powerless when they are reminded of their trauma in any way

Made me think, because as you said, even if it's not the same with everyone, I feel like it kind of worked in the opposite way? And obviously she will have an incredibly hard time opening up to him, but when in a relationship, would it be uncharacteristic if she started trusting him while also being her distant self? Like, some clues about her home life here and there to show she is slowly getting comfortable or would she force herself to maintain her "strong" front in a way?

[victorianoruben]

{Untitled yet}

Ruvik X F!Reader

Chapter 1

Warning: none, I guess?

Written by: me and @another-bryk-in-the-wall

(thanks to my best friend for beta-reading it!)

Sometimes the hours are blurring together on nightshifts. Sometimes they are extremely stressful. Emergencies where there are only two people on a shift.

Other times you have 6 hours of complete rest and boredom.

That day it was the latter.

You haven't been working here for long and already find this hospital to be “different from others".

Many employees were emotionally cold and absolutely not interested in anyone, while just some liked to make jokes with you and treated you like a normal person. Also, the whole atmosphere here seemed very private. There weren’t too many patients who were going out of their way to socialize or make friends inside of the hospital. Hell, most didn’t even leave their rooms.

You sat bored in the lounge with your mobile phone in hand until you suddenly heard footsteps. They reverberated eerily in the long hallway and you turned to face that direction, startled. It was rare that anyone was wandering the halls this late at night. You saw a man in a tight red uniform aiming to walk past you, not even acknowledging your presence.

Only when you took a closer look at him, did you notice his burn scars. They were covering half of his face. When he noticed that you were looking at him from head to toe you decided to greet him, instead of just awkwardly staring at him. A relatively meek "Good evening, Sir" came out of you. You felt very overwhelmed by his dominant presence, which intimidated you a bit. That feeling only worsened when you let your eyes wander to the top of his head... Was that his brain surrounded by glass? No, that couldn't be. You were surely imagining things. But, what if you weren’t. Oh god damn it, what had he been through?

He emanated a unique self-confidence unlike anything you had ever seen in anyone with facial scarring. Usually patients like that were unsure and shy, afraid of being judged over something they had no control over. Human beings could be downright nasty to anyone with a scarred face. Something about facial scars disgusted people and the victims could clearly feel the contempt of others and as a result, they tended to lose all confidence.

This man, however, seemed to practically ooze confidence, which you respected and you caught yourself of being fascinated by or more like interested in his presence. You felt how your heartbeat rose from 0 to 100 when you both made eye contact, though you tried all your best to keep yourself collected and professionally polite. But that didn't work that easily.

"Good evening.", the man replied, his face completely blank and his voice monotone. He was just looking at you without a friendly gesture, without a smile. The man was simply studying your appearance as well. One of the many abilities he gained over the years was that he could read people like an open book, left open for him to peak in. Someone had longer fingernails on their right hand and short on the left? Guitar player who doesn't want to destroy the neck of said guitar. Some dog owners always carried treats with them, even if the dog wasn’t coming along. All those little clues told him enough about a person before they even spoke their first sentence.

But you. He couldn't read you yet, and this peaked his interest.

You hadn't been here for a long time, because he knew all the long-term workers and their darkest secrets.

"Are you busy right now?", the man pointedly looked at the phone in your hand, currently playing a silly cat video. Truth be told, he enjoyed that kind of content, but would he ad this? Never. Absolutely never. He would rather get the other side of his brain exposed than to admit that he liked cat videos.

"I need some help with my studies. Care to join me?", that was a big lie but he was curious -

Who were you and why did you peak his interest more than the average nurse in here? He'd find out soon enough.

Only now did you wonder what he was even doing here during these late hours. He didn’t look like a doctor. Was he a lab assistant? He certainly looked like some sort of scientist.

Pressing your lips in a thin line with a weak smile you put my phone in your pocket and nodded, slightly mortified that he had caught you watching cat videos of all things. It surely didn’t look professional.

"No, I'm not really busy. I’m just having a long boring night- I mean, not that I’m complaining... I wouldn't wish for emergencies either. So, yeah… I’d be glad to help you," You fumbled a little over your words, still slightly unsettled by his presence.

You’d do nearly anything to escape the boredom of a quiet nightshift, though. And you weren’t really worried about him being some kind of serial killer. Sure, your colleagues were weird, but they weren’t really the kind of people to chop you to pieces and bury you in the closest forest. Weird didn’t equal serial killer. Besides, you were curious about the man.

You were walking next to each other in silence that was quickly going growing awkward. Nervously you were fumbling with your hands in your smock overall, thinking of starting any conversation just to get out of this uncomfortable silence.

"I've never seen you before. I'm still pretty new here. Do you work here as a laboratory or doctor assistant? Also, with many nightshifts? Is that really that common in this mental hospital? " You had narrowed your eyes questioningly when you looked up to him. By reading his facial expressions it didn't seem like he liked to answer you. His forehead was wrinkling in silent contemplation, which made you suspicious. It was unusual to have an assistant running around here so late at night.

Maybe you weren’t so far of with the serial killer suspicions. You actually contemplated hightailing out of there.

'Quick, think of an answer. She is just a pretty and naive nurse'

But even a little slip up could cost his head. He could tell by her tensing posture that she was seconds away from fleeing the scene.

‘That could end badly’

"I mostly work nights," he tried to keep his answers short and to the point. Laying on a confidence in his answer that he didn’t actually feel. He made sure to look her in the eye shortly and casually avert his gaze back to the hallway. If he didn’t look her in the eyes at all he would look like a liar and if he stared at her too much he’d look like one too. It was a delicate balance, that he had mastered over the years "That is because the nights are quieter and I can focus on the patients better this way."

You took a glance at him, still wondering about what his actual job was. His answer was too vague for your taste. But the curiosity was still grown inside of you.

You had decided to work in a mental hospital because the human psyche had always been kind of a mystery to you. Mental illnesses were both fascinating and tragic in your eyes. The mind was even more delicate than the body, in your eyes. It was so easy to break and healing it was a true challenge. It was your goal to help people with mental illnesses like depressions, dissociative disorders and PTDS.

So, you really wanted to know what this scientist - or whatever - was working on.

You both arrived at the door to his office. You signed an NDA before, but who knew what could happened once you opened mouth. He didn't trust anyone in this damn hospital.

"Do not be surprised by the sight in front of you once I open this door. All I am asking you is to check the vitals of the patients in the bathtubs. I want to make sure they are doing well but I am not entirely sure how to do that.", he lied through his teeth, ready to push you into one of the bathtubs once the chance was there.

Or could you be useful to him in the near future?

When you entered his so-called office after his warning you had expected anything - but that!

Never in your life had you seen a machine this far developed... It looked like something directly taken out of a science-fiction movie. The construction filled the whole room. There were wires everywhere, all connecting to a weird sphere in the middle of the room. Completely gob-smacked by the strange… whatever that was you took a while to take notice of the bathtubs. When you did, though you froze up immediately. There were people - no patients - in lying in the bathtubs, connected to the cables, which were attached to the back of their necks.

Like a statue you stood there for at least 20 seconds. Staring at one patient, you slowly went to him just to check his state. Curious to see if he was aware of his surroundings or if he was unconscious – maybe asleep . What was this system?

Could that reach possibilities to help several people out of mental illnesses or was this just a machine designed from a psychopath just for his own use?

And why would he need help from just a nurse like you?

You let out a sarcastic laugh, "Looking at this huge thing… I highly doubt that you don’t know how to check vital signs ", you shook your head and crossed your arms, taking several steps back, out of his direct reach. No way would you let him put you into one of these tubs!

You really wanted to run away and never go to the hospital again.

"So, tell me. What do you really want from me? Do you expect me to go into one of the bathtubs? Gotta tell you, that’s not gonna happen. I mean... not to sound judgmental. Because technically this could be something to help our patients. But I gotta tell you, this,“ You gestured towards the patient that was laying in the tub right in front of you, “looks quite suspicious and not very save. I hope the patients volunteered for this, because if they didn’t I have to report this. Don’t get me wrong, you seem to be quite intelligent and this looks interesting, but I cannot allow something like this to continue without - "

"- You are annoying. All I want you is to check the vitals of the patients and you are throwing a whole speech at me.", he shot back, not amused with your behavior.

"I am a scientist, not one of your doctors. What I am doing here could change the world forever. It is a system which helps people with heavy trauma to forge new memories and get rid of the trauma. Do you understand me?", the scientist continued to spit out. There was a look of passion in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. They had looked quite dull and emotionless up to this point. It was clear to you that he truly cared about that project of his.

What you weren’t aware of was that the man had a plan. He'd snow you . Make you feel comfortable. And then, he'd put you in the bathtub too. The next one on his list would be Tatjana from the reception area. And then it was your turn.

What even was your name? He chanced a quick glance of your name tag, just enough to read "(Y/N)" on it.

"Listen to me, (Y/N). This is a top-secret project. If I find out you talked about it outside of this room, I will make sure you suffer great consequences. And trust me, I have my eyes and ears everywhere. Now go and check on the rest of these people before I get angry. Then, you may leave."

Author's Note:

I'm still unsure if I keep making this as a slow-burn whole Fanfiction or just cut the whole thing I'm planing into single parts like One-Shots

[shuttershocky]

I haven’t been able to write lately due to a mix of personal stuff and *waves hands* the current global situation which sucks, but I still feel like writing something down so I guess I’m just gonna be cringy and self-indulgent and blather on about Aozaki Adoption in bullet points

Of course, I’m still going to include Rin, but in the original one-shots, I just skipped over how she got added to the Hollow Shrine. Now that I’m trying to actually string a plot together, I have to do it right. That part I’m still working on, Rin’s upbringing and personality make it difficult.

If I could do this fanfic in a visual medium I’d show Touko being unable to properly see her reflection in mirrors, like she’s looking at herself through broken glass. A huge part of why I would think Touko would be taken with Sakura is because of the former’s ability to come back from the dead. it’s a noted thing in the Nasuverse that a soul changing bodies is an imperfect process and eventually a soul gets corrupted like data being copied too many times (which is what happened to Roa), but Touko got around this somehow without using True Magic. I want to make it so that the price she pays instead is a quiet existential crisis, that after so many puppet bodies, even if she knows that it technically doesn’t matter if she’s truly Touko Aozaki or not if she has all the memories and skills, she still wonders whether she IS still that young girl that got booted from her family.

The intention is that Touko grows attached to Sakura because she sees a bit of herself in the younger girl, at least, after some projecting. By helping Sakura, Touko would be able to emotionally connect to the young girl she used to be, before all the puppet bodies and people she’s killed. Touko needs that connection because no matter what her knowledge of logic and philosophy tells her, she still can’t shake off the existential dread of feeling like she’s basically an object only carrying on the function of Touko Aozaki. Looking at Sakura makes her feel... human. It doesn’t matter if Touko can’t see herself through a mirror, she can look at Sakura and go “That was me”, if that makes any sense.

I’ve been trying to figure out if I want them to visit Misaki Town or not. The setting of 2000-2001 means there’s no events from kara No Kyoukai nor Fate/Stay Night to use, but there is Melty Blood. I’ve been thinking of using the Tatari’s power to make nightmares come alive to write a few horror chapters in the vein of Silent Hill (I ADORE how it does psychological horror), but also I’m questioning if I really want to go there and do that. While Silent Hill portrays the horrors of sexual abuse (the loneliness, the self-blame, the terror of seeing your own bed) better than 90% of anything, that’s not really something I want to do, but that’s where an encounter with the Night of Wallachia would go given Sakura’s backstory. 

I was seesawing between using Zouken (he doesn’t die that easily) or somehow getting Kirei and Gilgamesh involved to act as the main antagonists, but I decided against both. I know the one enemy Touko and the Hollow Shrine stand no chance of beating in a fight: Barthomeloi Lorelei. She’s eventually going to be the main antagonist, I plan to get her involved later on by having Touko recklessly rob the Clocktower for an artifact in an attempt to treat Sakura’s conditions (and thus make her lose face as the Clock Tower’s vice director) then have Zouken sell them out by using the worms still hiding inside Sakura to locate the Hollow Shrine, either that or get Shiki Tohno involved somehow since she hates his guts.

The Mystic Eyes of Death Perception present a really big writing problem where basically any monster threat I can throw in while waiting for the antagonists to arrive can be instantly solved by Shiki Ryougi. In fact, I’m still struggling to come up with a better reason for why Shiki doesn’t just destroy the grail fragments and worms inside Sakura other than the worms having changed Sakura’s physiology so thoroughly their death lines are too closely entwined with hers and Ryougi refuses to attempt to cut them out because of the risk.

I’m definitely doing the Shadow, but I need 1.) A power source that’s not the grail 2.) A reason to draw it out this early and a way to fight it back into dormancy since I currently can’t think of any other way to sever it from Sakura without Rule Breaker.

To differentiate it from Heaven’s Feel, I wanna take a different approach where the Shadow is something Sakura willingly indulges and indeed has full control over its powers. It’s gonna be vastly nerfed since no grail with infinite mana, but I think with a large enough mana source Sakura could massacre say, a bunch of Clock Tower Sealing Enforcers. 

Specifically, I want that choice to stem from a conversation Sakura has with Shiki. By this point, the Clock Tower is closing in and Sakura’s been conversing with the Shadow in her dreams, and though her better life in the hollow Shrine means she’s not in the same desperate situation she is in HF, she’s also willing to do whatever it takes to protect this new life she obtained through a miracle. So Sakura is going to ask Shiki “Shiki-san... have you ever killed before?” and Shiki would say yes. then Sakura asks “Would you kill again?” and Shiki solemnly answers “if I have to, yes.” which makes Sakura make up her mind that the Shadow would be something she needs to be able to use and control as a trump card.

As to what makes Sakura use it, I’m obviously going to kill Touko in front of her. I just need to have a strong excuse to have Sakura NOT know that dying is not that big of a problem for Touko. Currently, my idea is lifting from Fate/Stay Night and having Touko keep that a secret because adult mages can attempt to read Sakura’s mind, and Touko needs the surprise factor of her death immunity so that her enemies will try to kill her instead of imprisoning or sealing her.

My current outline is almost all rather dark plot points, but I tend to gravitate towards jokes and fluffy writing so I’m expecting the tone to lighten up a lot when I get around to actually writing them. It’s worked that way in the first few chapters.

Dealing with Sakura’s psyche is a little difficult since I have no idea how much of her anger and resentment should stay after she’s found this better life. I’m using Fujino as a reference, where there’s this simmering rage beneath Fujino, even as she speaks kindly and talks girls out of suicide. 

It’s especially difficult when I’m trying to flesh out her relationship with Rin. I know for sure I want Rin to be taken in by the Hollow Shrine only because Sakura wants her there, I want to use Sakura thinking of Rin as her hero in this fic, and how she’ll drag Rin back to the Hollow Shrine to reunite them. but I also want there to be that resentment. That anger. Rin would be someone who’s reluctant to give up on the ideals of a mage, and even more reluctant to give up the Tohsaka name and legacy, which Sakura would despise. I want there to be this torrent of conflicting feelings where Sakura thinks the world of her older sister who’s so beautiful and talented and perfect, and yet still feels resentment over Rin being kept by the family over her, and how Rin doesn’t really want to give up on being a Tohsaka. Meanwhile I’m putting Rin on the guilt trip train. It wasn’t her fault of course (remember in this fic Rin and Sakura are only 13 and 12 years old), mage culture is a bitch and she was just a child, but still. I want Rin to be just as conflicted, where she’s happy they’re back together (even if Sakura had to force it to happen) and massively guilty over what happened to her younger sister AND even more guilty that she knows the Tohsaka treated Sakura cruelly, but the Tohsaka ways are so deeply ingrained into her that she doesn’t want to give up such an enormous part of her identity. 

Rin and Sakura are going to fight a couple of times. Sometimes physically. But at the end of the day I still want a lot of positives to come from giving them a relationship again. I want their sibling relationship to be one of the core focuses of the fic, and specifically I want them to contrast Touko and Aoko’s relationship. Touko is not going to like Rin at first and is only having her onboard because it’s what Sakura wants, but also I kinda want to use Rin and Sakura as a way for Touko to see how things between her and Aoko might have been different.

Speaking of which, I really need a translation of Mahoyo to come out so I can do that last bullet point more effectively.

Currently most of the interactions Sakura’s had with the Hollow Shrine have been with Touko and mikiya, but I want her to have fleshed out relationships with the others too. Azaka could be her senpai in magecraft and she in turn would be the most protective of Sakura. Shiki would have Sakura babysit Mana a lot as she’s still in college and has to study (and Shiki would grow fond of her cooking), while Fujino would have the quietest and yet most comfortable relationship with Sakura. 

I’m doing this thing where Sakura’s fine control over her magical energy isn’t very good because of her altered circuits, so I’m making that the main motivation for how she discovers and wants to train in archery (she was vice-captain and then captain of the archery club in FSN and FHA after all), she loves the feeling of control and precision, of firing an arrow and knowing it will hit bullseye before it lands, as opposed to having to constantly struggle to keep a spell active or it crumbles before it finishes its process.

I’m still keeping the story of Rin and Sakura meeting Shirou by chucking him into a river, just need to figure out how to organically insert it back into the plot. it’s too funny to let go.

I don’t know if I want to do Taiga and Shiki as rival yakuza, but it’s definitely something I’m considering. it’s just too fun. I want to make something like how Taiga’s nickname of “Tiger of Fuyuki” is actually a serious yakuza nickname for her (that her students then caught on without context), so her rival Shiki becomes the “Dragon of Mifune”

Thanks to Case Files I know mages having deadly car chases actually isn’t all that uncommon which opens up a ton of new avenues for how I could get Sakura to be in a car with Touko in a car chase. i’d have Sakura follow Touko’s instructions and overturn the cars chasing them. Sakura’s worried and asks if they’re hurt, and Touko goes “Don’t worry, they’re Clock Tower mages, they’ll be fine.” and then one of the overturned cars explodes and when Sakura turns to look Touko gently points sakura’s face forward and says “Eyes on the road,” Later that night, the news reveals no one was killed. Somehow.

I want to do the Jewel Sword of Zelretch but I don’t know how just yet.

 I’m going to poke a lot of fun at the fact that Touko says she has no issues but one of her main puppets that she battles with is literally modeled to look like Aoko. I might even have Touko talk to the puppet once in a while when she’s bored.

Still debating on when exactly Sakura is going to start calling Touko “Mom” and what she would have to do to earn that. Also, do we know when Aoi Tohsaka died? I can’t recall a specific year and I’m trying to get all the dates straight.  

[nerdtrash-iteration]

(Re)watching Doctor Who: series 5

Okay so this was the last full series of Doctor Who I saw before I stopped watching. I didn’t remember much from then when I recently rewatched it, so I was close to watching it with fresh eyes. And wow do I appreciate it a lot more now. I was very attached to the RTD era, which was why I was so reluctant to accept anything else. But Doctor Who is all about change. So if I couldn’t accept that, it might not have been the show for me. The Doctor wasn’t just Nine and Ten, he has been plenty of others before and this is just his latest incarnation. His next phase in growing up. I’m a lot more on board now. Let’s jump into it. Series 5 (Eleventh Doctor) 5.1: The Eleventh Hour I loved this opening so much. The whole tone, the storyline, the music especially Amy’s theme are on point. Just a really solid opening to a new era of the show. Establishing the whimsical fairy tale feeling.

5.2: The Beast Below Ehhhh is how I feel on this episode. It isn’t bad though. I love the image of Amy floating outside the TARDIS. Liz X is cool, although I kinda doubt the British monarchy will last that long. I really liked how the Doctor realised she was way older than she claimed, by noting her mask was an antique but also perfectly shaped to her face. I thought the Forget/Protest method of of voting was pretty cool. But the overall story was meh to me. Wasn’t into the setting or the Smilers.

5.3: Victory of the Daleks I am biased against this episode as I am decidedly not a fan of Dalek stories most of the time. And yeah too many things just feel silly to me here. Of course Winston Churchill would be romanticised in a BBC programme but it felt very propaganda-y. I liked the Doctor getting angry at the Daleks, and how his position as their enemy was so tied to their identity. But the ending feels really weak. I really hate the re-occurring plot device of “Oh we thought we got rid of all the Daleks, but these few survived”, like fuck off. The twist on their android scientist (”You didn’t build us, we built you”) was kinda cool but again felt really eh in its resolution. And I really hate how the Daleks are defeated at the end. I can suspend my disbelief a lot in Doctor Who, but how the hell were these 1940s Spitfires able to easily fly in SPACE? 5.4 + 5.5: The Time of Angels + Flesh and Stone I really like this story. I love the twist at the end of the first half. I originally didn’t like the “image of an angel becomes itself an angel” thing, but it kinda fits with them in that their image is their defense mechanism. I really like the interactions between the Doctor and Amy here. River and Father Octavian are pretty good too. I think the crack is used really well here and is really unnerving. I don’t even mind the ending. Yeah the angels probably would have been defeated without the Doctor but the gang didn’t know that going in. I think the angels using Bob’s voice and snapping necks is a bit too silly for me. Also I really don’t like that they just show the angels moving. But a decent suspenseful story overall. Also I’m not a massive fan of Amy trying to jump the Doctor, but it does feel believable to me given her history with him.

5.6: The Vampires of Venice I am mostly personally disappointed that there were no real vampires in this. I find the insistence that everything must just be aliens very frustrating. Why can’t there just be vampires, werewolves and ghosts in Doctor Who? You can still have a sci-fi twist to them. I just don’t see why vampires can’t be another race on Earth with humans, like the Silurians. Anyway it’s a pretty forgettable episode to me. I do like the opening interactions with Rory. I also like the ending conversation between the Doctor and the main antagonist. Just overall eh to me.

5.7: Amy’s Choice I really like a lot about this episode. I love stories set in dreams and that tie into the psyche of certain characters. I really like that this more or less puts the Doctor/Amy/Rory love triangle to bed. HOWEVER. I am really not happy with how the resolution is framed. That Amy willing to risk killing herself in response to Rory’s “death” is framed as romantic and a positive development of their relationship. Suicide should never be framed in this romantic light. But a decent story overall, was happy to revisit it.

5.8 + 5.9: The Hungry Earth + Cold Blood I thought I would be really bored with revisiting this story but I ended up really liking it. I liked some of the guest cast, particularly the scientists. I thought Amy disappearing into the Earth in the first half was genuinely scary. I really like a lot about the Silurians, but I did find one detail slightly off. The scientist Silurian admits to kidnapping human children to study them and the Doctor is just like “Omg that’s so cool”, like NO it isn’t!!! I also really like how the hostage situation was handled and resolved. And Rory’s first true death was really a gut-punch, especially Amy forgetting him :( 5.10: Vincent and the Doctor I knew I would enjoy revisiting this episode and I certainly did. Not a fan of the monster but I adore all the interactions with the Doctor, Amy and Vincent. Especially when the night sky transforms into Starry Night. Also the ending is heart-breaking :( 5.11: The Lodger It feels weird watching this episode given what we know about its writer Gareth Roberts. But I have to admit it is a well-written episode. I really like the tone of the story and Craig and his ordinary life being the focus. I’m noticing the perception filter gets used a lot more in Doctor Who, maybe a bit too much. But I’ll allow it here.  Overall a very charming story. 5.12 + 5.13: The Pandorica Opens + The Big Bang I think this might be my favourite series finale of the show???? I absolutely love the twist of the first half. I really like how it all gets resolved in the second half. It’s not too contrived at this point and I do like how the cracks are explained. Love having Rory back. Also even if this finale is a bit far-fetched with its plot, it still wins me over emotionally. Especially the Doctor revisiting past memories: “You won’t need your imaginary friend anymore”. There are so many heart-breaking lines like that.

Overall I enjoyed series 5 much more on a rewatch. Some dodgy episodes but mostly some really engaging stories. Also Matt Smith’s hair looks in the best in this series to me.

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 17: Disappointing Mentors

Becoming The Mask

Content warning for this chapter: the canonical racism most trolls have for Changelings affects Blinky's reaction to learning Jim is a Changeling.

"Leave the gaggletack here," said Jim. Draal growled. "I'm not saying 'throw it in the furnace and get rid of it forever' – in fact, don't do that, because that would probably really mess the furnace up – just don't bring it with us."

Telling Blinky was dangerous enough. He didn't want Draal abruptly forcing him to switch forms in the middle of Trollmarket. Draal could still decide a promise made to a Changeling was as unbinding as a promise from one and break their deal, but it would take longer for him to prove to anyone else that the Trollhunter was a Changeling if he had to go find a gaggletack.

"Leave your knife," Draal countered.

That wasn't much of a sacrifice. Even without the Creeper's Sun blade or the Amulet of Daylight, Jim was well-armed.

He held the gleaming green knife out to his side, pointed at the floor. "Drop them on three?"

Draal held out the gaggletack likewise. "One … two … three."

The gaggletack hit the cement floor with a clank. The knife made more of a clatter – cling-clack-cloi-oing-click.

Jim did not take a deep breath. If he stopped to psyche himself up, he'd never go through with this.

"Let's go."

The tunnel Draal had built linking the basement to the sewer system was sturdily constructed. It was wide enough for a troll Draal's size to move easily, big enough even AAARRRGGHH could possibly use it to visit, but narrow enough that Draal alone could easily defend the passage.

Jim walked beside Draal, not wanting to march ahead and feel like a prisoner, nor to linger behind and make Draal think he was trying to bolt. Being in arm's reach of an angry troll, a troll angry at him, was nerve-wracking. Jim's respect for Stricklander and Nomura ticked up a few more notches for how often they handled Bular.

Even if it was partially Nomura's fault that Jim was in this position.

Nomura called Stricklander from the museum's phone. He couldn't afford to ignore a call from the place where the bridge was being stored and rebuilt, the way he might ignore a fellow Changeling's personal phone number if they called at an inconvenient time.

"Good evening."

"Stricklander," she growled at him. She'd shed her human face as soon as she'd locked her office.

"Ah, Ms Nomura. To what do I owe this very late pleasure?"

"When were you planning to tell the Janus Order that Lake has the Trollhunter Amulet?"

There was a pause. She smiled mockingly, imagining him scrambling to wake all the way up and invent an explanation.

"Once we have the bridge completed," he claimed. "For now it's in our hands, and somewhere no one would think to look for it. Don't tell me the boy's been showing it off."

"No, no," Nomura said lightly. "I'm acquainted with his mother and happened to see him with it." When he interfered in a fight to try and protect me. That boy may be too invested in his cover. "I wanted to be sure I didn't have to worry about Bular finding out and venting on the antiquities that it hadn't been delivered to him."

"Bular knows," said Stricklander quickly, either because it was true or as a lie to keep Nomura from being the one to report it.

"I'm surprised Lake is still alive, then … unless Bular only knows he has the amulet, not that he can use it."

Another pause.

"What exactly did you see?" Stricklander's voice was soft in the way it got when he tried to hide tension.

"Oh, you didn't know the new Trollhunter's identity?"

He growled at her, creating a rumble of static.

"Jim Lake is on a highly classified mission to infiltrate Trollmarket, in a position above suspicion of being a spy. Tell me you didn't cost us that opportunity by killing him."

"I did not kill him," she said honestly. Cost him the position, maybe. "The boy was breathing and in one piece when I left his house."

"Good."

"Careful, Stricklander, or I'll think you've gotten attached."

"Infighting weakens us. We need to be at our full strength to bring about Gunmar's return."

"Acknowledged. Nothing further to report." She hung up.

Nomura decided against reporting the missing stone from Killahead Bridge for now. Lake had been clever, acquiring that piece of insurance. He could claim to Bular that a part of the bridge was in Trollmarket, where only Lake could retrieve it. The Janus Order couldn't take Trollmarket by force; they needed Gunmar's army to stand a chance against so many trolls.

As the only Changeling who knew Lake had taken the bridge piece, Nomura now had some unique leverage over the Trollhunter. That wasn't a position she was willing to give up so soon.

She wondered idly how he was going to cover up Draal's death. Creeper's Sun didn't leave much of a trace, magically speaking, and once the body was broken it should be easy to hide. If no one knew Draal would be at the Trollhunter's home, it should be easy enough for Lake to claim ignorance when the troll was reported missing, and if anyone did know, he could claim Draal had never arrived.

On the other hand, he'd implied Draal might live through tonight … maybe, despite Draal's reaction, the young Changeling had actually made some headway in converting him.

Nomura had been unsuccessful when she tried that, but … that had been a long time ago. Maybe something she'd said had finally started to sink in, and given Lake a foothold to claw deeper into Draal's stubborn head. It would be nice, if they could be on the same side one day.

Quiet trickles and splashes of water would make a soothing sound in any setting but a sewer. There was the occasional metallic groan echoing off a distant pipe, and the squeaks and scurries of rats fleeing two large predators, for all that trolls didn't usually bother with them.

The canal was lined with storm drains. Arcadia Oaks' human population had first constructed the canals to reroute water from heavy rains and prevent flooding. Jim had never gotten around to asking if Trollmarket was ever flooded by some hapless troll, opening the portal without knowing the surface weather.

Jim told himself it did not hurt that Draal flinched when Jim got out the horngazel. Jim should be the one skittish and flinchy right now. The dagger-like crystal didn't even glow the same colour as his Creeper's Sun dagger, and any resemblance to a Darklands-native stinger crystal was entirely cosmetic.

Jim would admit to himself that it hurt when Draal growled at him again, this time for summoning his armour. He did not conjure the sword. Considering his promise not to use the sword against Draal, this was probably only hollow comfort.

Blinky was passing a leisurely evening in his library, not studying for any purpose beyond a pure love of knowledge and appreciation for the written word.

First he read A Compendium of Swamp Trolls, containing what little outsiders had gleaned of the cultures and traditions of the Quagawumps and their cousin tribes. Then he perused a work of human literature loaned to him by Tobias from the boy's grandmother's collection; a gristly and suspenseful detective novel, for which Blinky only solved the mystery himself a mere half-chapter before the protagonist.

Now he was comfortably immersed in a treatise he'd read before but enjoyed as a sort of scholastic palate cleanser, on the effects of static on a troll's mental clarity and emotional wellbeing. Blinky felt the essay had a soothing effect on his mind not dissimilar to static's own properties. He chose not to indulge in static itself more than sparingly, lest it cut into valuable reading time.

Next on his informal reading list was a dictionary that claimed to translate the goblin tongue – transcribed in phonetic trollish, as, if goblins had a written language, no non-goblin had yet discovered it, and given the proclivity towards vandalism in the goblin species, one would expect their written language to be known, if only in the form of graffiti.

"Good, you're here."

"Draal?" Blinky jumped. Draal wasn't a frequent visitor to the library even when he lived in Trollmarket. "Has something happened to – Master Jim." He hadn't noticed the Trollhunter at first.

"And alone," Master Jim noted. "Where's AAARRRGGHH?" Draal shut the door.

Blinky frowned and shut his book. "What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?"

"Jim has something to tell you."

Master Jim looked wide-eyed at Draal, who scowled back. The human's breathing was quick and shallow.

"I … I …"

His eyes darted from troll to troll to door. He settled mostly on Blinky, two eyes meeting four – Blinky kept two eyes on one side pointed at Draal.

"Please don't hate me," Master Jim whispered.

Blinky turned a third eye to Draal, who gave no sign what this was about save that it was serious.

"I … haven't been entirely honest with you," said the human boy. He wrapped his arms around his middle and hunched his shoulders. "Draal found out something, and, it's gonna make you think less of me" – Draal snorted – "but if you agree to keep it secret, he won't tell anyone either."

"You're blackmailing him?" Blinky summarised, glaring at Draal now. He put his upper pair of hands on the young Trollhunter's shoulders. "Master Jim. I have come to know you quite well in these past months. I do not believe any secret could make me think less of you. As your mentor, I vow not to expose any matter you tell me in confidence. And frankly, Draal, I'm disappointed in your behaviour."

Master Jim's smile looked forced. "It's nice to hear you say that." He put his hands on Blinky's for a moment, before stepping back out of arm's reach.

"I'm a Changeling."

Blinky did not absorb these words at first. His reaction when he did was disbelief. He blinked disjointedly, all six of his eyes on the seemingly-human boy.

"Show him," Draal pressed.

Master Jim did not transform. But his eyes glowed with otherworldly light, sclera turning from white to gold, and blue irises turning red.

Blinky recoiled, stumbling back into a table. The Changeling flinched. His eyes became human again.

"But … the gaggletack." The night the other humans had followed him to Trollmarket, Master Jim had picked up the artifact without hesitation.

"That only forces a transformation if it makes skin contact." The boy flexed his hands, drawing attention to his gauntlets.

"But you're the Trollhunter," Blinky protested. "How could Merlin's Amulet have thought a Changeling was a good choice for a Trollhunter?!"

"I have some theories on that, actually." And oh, that academic excitement that had been so endearing in a human child became ominous and threatening in this new light. "I wondered if maybe it just called out to the first troll who got close enough to it after the last one died, you know, other than whoever killed them. Or it could've broken when Bular threw Kanjigar off the bridge? Or maybe sunlight exposure damaged it. I mean, it is a troll artifact."

No wonder he'd adjusted to the existence of trolls so quickly, he knew of them all along! No wonder he'd learned to speak trollish so quickly, he must have already known it! No wonder he could fight so well, Changelings would be trained in combat, and no wonder he never hesitated to use Rule Number Three, a Changeling would have no qualms about 'dirty fighting' the way human literature suggested a human ought to have. No wonder he'd been cunning enough to scruff AAARRRGGHH, what human could have possibly thought to do that –?

"This should not be possible!" The troll waved all four arms as though to swat this knowledge away, like a human pestered by an insect.

"It makes a little more sense than it picking a human, right? Changelings are still technically trolls."

Blinky had grown accustomed to seeing the Trollhunter armour shrunken to fit a human shape, but this new information made the familiar sight blasphemous.

"No," said Blinky, without thinking, "you aren't."

Previous Chapter (Nomura learns Jim’s the Trollhunter, Draal learns Jim’s a Changeling, and Jim learns Barbara and Nomura are acquaintences)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (AAARRRGGHH gets back to the library and weighs in on this)

I am not sure how to spell 'Quagawumps' so I went with the spelling used on the DVD subtitles for the episode The Shattered King, where the swamp trolls are first introduced. I make no promises to spell it consistently in the future.

[shipburner]

For the past week (or perceived week, she had only her watch to go by), Iris Henson had been using the ［ＬＯＮＥ  ＳＴＡＲ］ as a base of operations. The room was easily refindable, the food was edible, the beds were safe, and the staff wasn't inimical to human life.

Iris just wished that it wasn't so aggressively Texan.

Her partner, Stheno, lacked the cultural context, and treated it as just another one of the Memory Palace's cavalcade of oddities. And to be fair, it was plenty odd, since none of the animal or plant life implied by the ［ＬＯＮＥ  ＳＴＡＲ］ was native to Texas, or, in most cases, Earth. But the name – the intent of the food – the overall aesthetics – made Iris cringe harder than anything she'd seen yet.

To be fair, it wasn't all bad – the most requested jukebox tune was a passionate ballad of a truck's love for his man by a singer with a voice like a glass guitar, followed by a lot of mooing that allegedly translated to a song about rustlers having stolen all the singer's trucks. The staff appeared to understand human gender better than most humans did, and the Daisy-Dukes-and-close-tied-flannel uniform showed off a full spectrum of cheesecake, beefcake, cheeseburger, yeast block, singing mouth, and chassis. In fact, Iris couldn't remember ever having heard a mean word said in the place.

The biggest problem, flagrant Texaninity aside, was the floor show.

Stheno held a clear plastic umbrella in two arms, sporadically wiped it clean in a third, and held Iris' chocolate mousse behind them in a fourth, shielding Iris and her sketchpad from the spurts of blood and gore as the showpeople tore each other to bits. Iris was busy recording the anatomy of the most human-approximant staff members – glass skeletons intricately whorled to support their hydraulic muscles, nine cervical vertebrate clearly revealed whenever one got their skull pulled out, four stomachs in a familiarly ruminant arrangement … "Ooh!" remarked Stheno as something bounced off the umbrella; Iris shot out another arm and grabbed it before it fell to the sawdust floor. She turned it around and examined it. "Their hearts are wasps' nests? Huh. Not what I was expecting." "Just wood pulp," Stheno corrected, pulling it down to Iris' chest so she could see. "I'll be damned if wasps were involved in this." "Hm. Ooh, Nutella!" A hazelnut eye had ricocheted off a neighboring table and landed in the glass, shattering into fragments as it hit the adamantine pole of the tiny fancy umbrella. Iris handed her sketchpad to Stheno and stirred the fragments into her dessert, spooning it into her mouth. "I don't know how you have the stomach to eat this." "Like you know what it's like to have a stomach, Stheno." "Get fucked."

"YEEEEEEEE-ALLLLLLLL-RIIIIIIIIGHT, PARDNERS!" blared the sound system. "THAT'S A DE-CI-SIVE – AN' IN-CI-SIVE – WIN FOR MX. OPHELTEK! LET'S GIVE EM ALL A BIIIIIIIIG HAND! OOPS, LOOKS LIKE E'S ALREADY GOT ONE, AHAHAHAHA!" Mx. Opheltek held up the severed hoof-hand of eir last opponent over eir head. "WE'LL BE BACK AFTER THE BREAK! GET UP, GET ANOTHER DRINK, GO POWDER YOUR –" the last word sounded like "NOSE!", "MUZZLE!", and "GRILLE!" layered on top of each other. Stheno folded the umbrella gingerly as Iris got up to head over to the bar. "Jes' water fer the li'l misses, 'sright?" squawked the bartender. They were perhaps the least aesthetically consistent person in the place, being a swarm of parakeets inhabiting an articulated wire cage that Iris thought looked a little like Jimmy Buffett. "Mhm." Iris nodded, rubbing under her glasses. It had been a long day, especially when they'd had to brachiate through the ribcage of a Spearmint Hound carrying an unconscious lumberjack. Stheno squeezed her hand supportively and accepted the drink. "Heeeeeeeey y'all!" There was a heavy thump as someone slid onto the bar next to Iris, along with the squishy sound of body parts pushing themselves back together. "Whoof, I got splattered out there! Top me up, thank y'kindly …" A quiet snick noise accompanied the retraction of six glass claws as their owner held out a glass skull to be topped up with bloodwine. Iris turned to see a showgirl sitting on the bar, tall, tan, young, handsome -- Iris quelled the rising strains of "Girl from Ipanema" along with some unhelpful gay thoughts. The woman's hazelnut eyes took in the mutualistic partnership, flicking between meeting Iris' gaze and Stheno's. "Hey, how y'all doin'?" she said. "Saw the host here doin' some sketchin'; we puttin' on a good enough show y'wanna capture it?" She downed the bloodwine and wiped her lips, which Iris could now see were just lipstick painted around her mouth. Iris swallowed, voice suddenly ragged. "More … scientific interest. We're not … not from around here." "Ooh, you a bio nerd? I'm psych, myself. Workin' this job t' put myself through college." She took another long gulp and held out her hand. Iris shook it cautiously; Stheno circled a arm around them. "Annie-Mae, pardner; what're y'all's monikers?" Annie-Mae probably didn't notice the bit of Iris that died inside when Iris put together what her name sounded like. "Iris Henson." "Stheno." Iris reflected belatedly on the lack of differentiation between their voices -- clear enough to her and Stheno, but since they both had to use Iris' vocal chords, she wondered if Annie-Mae could tell who was which. "Nice t'meetcha! Am I gettin' y'all's grammar right?" Iris looked down at Stheno, who shrugged a pair of arms; Iris said, "… No, we think you've gotten the right take on our partnership." "Sweet! So what brings y'all around here?" "Stumbled through the wrong hole in space, both of us," said Stheno. "Now we're both stuck on this crazy-train of a castle." "Whoof! Sorry t' hear that, but y'seem like y'all're enjoyin' the show here." "I am," said Iris. "More … energetic than I'm used to, but I am interested." "Personally, I'm disgusted," said Stheno. "Well, ne gustibus te disputandum'n'all that!" Annie-Mae kicked a leg high in the air, which probably meant something like nonchalance in whatever body language her species had, but which caused Iris to suddenly become very interested in her water. "Y'all hangin' around here for the night?" "Think so, why?" said Iris. "Wonderin' if we can continue this conversation or if I'm keepin' y'all! Y'all're becomin' a regular; figure it's worth meetin' y'all, proper-like." She slithered down off the bar onto a stool besides Iris, resting her angular chin in her broad hands. "You two an item?" she asked, suddenly, voice sugary. Stheno's arms coiled, half under her own power and half under Iris', who stammered, "We're … uh …" "As romantically entangled as two people this physically entangled have to be, I guess," filled in Stheno. "We're a … package deal, at any rate." "Is this a deal y'all're offering?" Annie-Mae licked one of her eyes, grin glassy. Iris' throat stalled for several seconds.

Annie-Mae recoiled quickly, face falling. "Sorry, I can never judge how fast is too fast with visitants. I made y'all uncomfortable an' that ain't the ［ＬＯＮＥ  ＳＴＡＲ］ way." Iris shrugged. "I think we're both filing it under cultural relativity, and I gotta say -- the 'Lone Star way' where I come from is a lot less courteous than it is here." "I ain't rightly sure if I should feel good about that." Stheno rolled her eyes. "Trust me, you'll need a lot more of that bloodwine if we're discussing Iris' homeworld. Or mine, really, but we already went through the section of the castle that's got my cultural baggage attached. All the evil in this place is dramatic. Overt." Annie-Mae hung her head. "I ain't no damn good with y'all plausibly evolved folks." Iris patted her shoulder. "Better than we are, ma'am." Annie-Mae laughed. Well, let loose a horrifying screech, but Iris had heard enough of her species laugh before. She took another swig of her bloodwine. "So! How's bio life?" "Art life, actually," said Iris. "Anatomy studies, y'know? I mean. I hope it's art life. I don't know how 'getting sucked into a memed-up Borges novel gone metastatic' is gonna affect my major." "I'm just a tech," said Stheno. "Biological, but I went into trade." "Oh, ain't that jus' a zmood. Time's a fluid; y' should get back fine, if I remember anythin' from physics when I was a scrap." "Thanks, that's … comforting." "May I offer a restrained yet supportive 'yeehaw'?" "You may not," said Stheno, the joke clear enough in her tone, and bumped Annie-Mae's proferred fist. "Yee haw!" Annie-Mae said, the bisection of the word groaningly obvious to Iris' ears. "Thanks," said Iris, "I hate it." Annie-Mae sprayed bloodwine out of her mouth, Stheno opening the umbrella just in time to deflect it humorously. Iris couldn't help laughing too as Annie-Mae contorted, dislocating several joints with the force of her screeches. "Your – your deliv'ry – ho-leee fuck, Iris – hoooooooo dawg-geez, I needed that." Two minds trying to speak in unison through one set of vocal chords tended to produce a fairly good Voice of the Legion. "What can we say, except, you're welcome …" The reference didn't appear to land with Annie-Mae, but that was par for the course; frankly, Iris (and Stheno, in the case of her references) was more surprised when one did. Annie-Mae wiped her face and leaned back. "So, how's the art and/or trade life, funnybones?"

They ended up chatting far longer than any of them had in truth expected. Iris and Stheno described their own consistently-weird homeworlds and attempts to break into the art world/museum scene, respectively, and as the subjective night wore on, pipe dreams, like unseating Mike Mearls and claiming his skull-throne, or winning the Abomination Foundry Ceremonial Brisket for excellence in species design. Annie-Mae described her inconsistently-weird homeworld – the ［ＬＯＮＥ  ＳＴＡＲ］ and related rooms, and her efforts slowly working towards a psychology degree, and, later, her own pipe-dreams, about wandering through the mind of a long-dead god she'd found a few floors greenward and healing its hurts, or maybe just getting to rip her back off on Hellevision. The parakeethead behind the bar eventually had to shoo them upstairs, citing concerns about them turning the mops all "Sorcerer's Apprentice snuff film".

They told more stories, upstairs, of the time Iris and Stheno had faced the Xenomorph version of Billy Bob Brockali in rock-combat, of the time Annie-Mae had gotten a glimpse into what turned out to be an erotic baking show from Stheno's homeworld, and of loves lost and dreams deferred and huge old things seen when the viewers should have been asleep.

It would be nice to draw a curtain over the room, and praise darkness and creation unfinished. For indeed, Iris and Stheno had foes to face, friends to find, and, eventually, a way home, although for now we should perhaps send our well-wishes to Iris and Stheno not for homefinding but for overcoming the dour tentpole ghouls of Barthes' Necropolis, and for the assistance of the Warden Sueish, the only author who enacted his own narrative death. But before we send Iris and Stheno to go out deconstructing and to deconstruct, well-fed, well-rested, well-comforted, we have one stumbling block to place in their way.

Annie-Mae's hat hung on the bedpost atop Iris' pea coat; cowboy boots and sneakers lay jumbled together on the rug that might be called cowhide by someone who had never actually seen a cow. The room was dark, the air warm with breath and things that worked like breath. Stheno began to speak –

A squat, humanoid skeleton-creature poked eir cumberously-hatted head out of some fourth-dimensional space, hissing, "Niiiiiiiice…….." The words "CORPSE-GRADE QUICKLIME" flashed into Iris' eyes from eir shirt. Stheno lifted her bodily off the bed with all ten arms and sent Iris' feet plowing right into eir face. E made a noise like an EDM opossum and vanished with a puff of sand. "What'n tarnation was that?" Annie-Mae said, dazedly. Iris groaned. "That's … not far off. Eir name's Darnation, with a D. E's a skook. Skooks are the … Dante's Vergils of the Palace ecosystem, at least in our experience. E is a horrible little neman and we're probably being taught a really heavy-handed lesson by eir presence." "Yeesh. I can recommend a de-curser, if y'all think that'd help." Iris and Stheno turned all four eyes to her. "We don't." "Well, I can help y'all forget em." "We'd like that."

[This is my overwrought birthday present for @titleknown, inspired by the anon message posted above. What character, after all, is more a character than the fantastical Memory Palace?]

[Also, in the spirit of the thing, Annie-Mae, Iris Henson, Stheno, and Darnation are all free to use under a CC-BY 4.0 Vanilla License as you see fit as long as I, Nausicaä Harris, am credited as their creators when you do so. The Memory Palace, and the species I call skooks, are under the same license, as long as Thomas F. Johnson is credited as their creator. ETA: The anon on whose ask I built her character graciously gifted me with credit, and open-sourceness, for Annie-Mae.]

[And, while I don’t have designs for Iris or Stheno worked out yet, I do have a design for Darnation. Eir cheap trick is pocket sand; eir hat is meant to represent that e was born on a mountain, raised in a cave, and craves nothing but truckin’ and fuckin’.]

[ecethoughts]

Description

Research regarding social networking and the effects of its usage amongst users is constantly emerging and evolving; some in favour of its usage, others on the opposing side, and finally – but not limiting to -- those who seek to understand the psychology behind the usage of social networking. Why have we, as a society, become so comfortable with sharing personal information about ourselves online where virtually (no pun intended) anyone can see? Why do many individuals feel more comfortable interacting with others virtually than they would in person? Why are social networking apps, such as Facebook, deemed as the “superior forms of communication” (Greenfield, 2015, p. 251)? Through the use of data/findings found within psychological/human development-based research conducted thus far in this ever-so evolving and complex field of study, author Susan Greenfield attempts to discover the enticement which social networking has entranced the majority of us with within her 2015 book chapter titled “The Something About Social Networking”. Greenfield utilizes multiple classic psychological theories, such as John Bowlby’s theory of attachment and theories regarding self-disclosure/rewards, which are heavily based around human biological needs in order to make connections to society’s compulsive use of social networking, and seeks to understand the appeal behind social networking itself (Greenfield, 2015). As someone who uses social media apps on a daily basis (i.e. the one which you are currently on to read my post), it was interesting to see the complex nature of human psychology being connected to something that has covertly taken over our lives. Is the addictive behaviour behind the usage of social networking really that serious? Greenfield proves that it very much is!

Summary

Social networking sites hold a “colossal impact […] on our way of life” in the sense of our connectedness to others (Greenfield, 2015, p. 249). While some people – mainly the people who are behind creating such platforms such as Mark Zuckerburg, founder of Facebook – believe that social networking is a positive way to “transform society for the future” as it can ultimately alleviate the state of loneliness due to the accessibility of being connected to anyone and everyone, the majority of researchers believe that an excessive usage of social media can be detrimental to one’s mental health (Greenfield, 2015, p. 250). Greenfield (2015) compares social networking usage to junk food, as they are both “harmless in moderation, but deleterious when you overindulge” (p. 257).

However, psychology-based research, which Greenfield discusses within her chapter, has proven that social networking usage is not so black or white. Instead, it is a complex process which triggers multiple biological needs within humans which, if not balanced, can possibly cause detrimental effects. For example, according to evolutionary/biological studies, loneliness or social-isolation has proven to have a direct impact on one’s physical health (e.g. lower levels of oxytocin which can lead to cardiovascular disease, weaker immune system, strokes etc.) but social networking has created an opportunity for people to have a cyber-simulation of human contact; indicating that it can possibly combat the negative state of loneliness (Greenfield, 2015). However, this notion is only true when applied to a certain form of social network usage.

Active users of social media (e.g. messaging friends or commenting on their posts) are less likely to feel a sense of loneliness than those who passively use social media (viewing other people’s posts, but not engaging); that being said, passive users of social media (who are more likely to feel lonely) are more attached to their social media apps and tend to have more online friends than active users do. This proves that social media can entrap one to fall into the vicious cycle of attempting to combat loneliness by using it as a form of escapism, which then leads to feeling even lonelier (Greenfield, 2015).

Furthermore, humans have a “craving for self-disclosure” which can be viewed as a “very basic part of the human-psyche” meaning that sharing personal information about ourselves and receiving positive feedback from others “activates the rewards systems in the brain the same way that food and sex do” (Greenfield, 2015, p. 253). This, in turn, dangerously causes us to become entranced by the usage of social media, and encourages us to share more about our personal lives online. It is also easier for us to receive positive attention, approval, and feedback online rather than in person, as we have the power to create picture-perfect versions of ourselves by sharing only the more positive aspects of our lives, and being able to have more control over our words (in face-to-face scenarios we can stutter, immediately regret what we just said, become awkward etc.), ultimately making our active online presence/sharing feed more into our craving of self-disclosure (Greenfield, 2015). I would assume that having a perfect cyber life can only make one feel even worse about their reality so, again, this is another vicious cycle where one can easily get stuck within.

Besides the obvious concern of privacy becoming almost non-existent online due to the craving of self-disclosure, the concern of the effects of sharing personal information online on one’s mental health is increasing as well. Overall, social networking has its positives and its negatives and the psychology behind social networking usage itself stems from basic human biological needs. Feeding into these needs, such as self-disclosure and combating loneliness, can be healthy up to a certain point however, our cravings seem to most likely lead us into dangerous cycles which are more detrimental to our health than to begin with, rather than resolving the problem at all.

References

Greenfield, Susan. “The Something about Social Networking.” Mind Change: How Digital Technologies Are Leaving Their Mark on Our Brains, Random House, 2015, pp. 249–258.

[thefablednib]

Seeking a Friend for the Apocalypse

When I think about messaging strangers on the Internet, red flags wave frantically inside my head. As a child, my parents taught me that I shouldn’t talk to strangers online because they would find where I live and kidnap me. As a result, a chance encounter full of philosophy, poetry, and sincerity that changes my life unexpectedly is far-removed from what I’d expect from an online chat. But that’s exactly what happened to me over the course of three serendipitous weeks in July of last year.

Like most people, quarantine left me detached from the world, and I was utterly craving for human interaction. Being sequestered inside our house for more than five months, I was scrambling to find ways to connect with my friends, but to no avail. They wouldn’t return my video calls, reply to my messages, or even react to the memes I sent them. Despite the loneliness that we were all feeling, it became difficult reaching out to each other.

However, my desperate attempts at conversation led me to the forum app Reddit. In there, a subreddit (which is equivalent to a Facebook group) called “r/penpals” caught my attention. It was like the classified ads section of a newspaper where people from all over the world who are also tormented by quarantine cast about for pen pals. To me, writing to a pen pal seemed like a perfect arrangement to message people while remaining concealed by the mystique of the Internet. I found that it’s easier to confide to a complete stranger about the crevices of my life than a friend who comes with strings attached.

Thereupon, I mustered up enough nerve to post an ad, even if it’s a shot in the dark. So I wrote, “Seeking a Friend for the Apocalypse… Let’s talk about philosophy and music and life before the coronavirus wipes out humanity…” Then, I further epitomized the essence of my personality and poured it into that Reddit ad. I listed all of my hobbies, interests, hopes, and dreams in that post. Being a lover of poetry, I even wrote “Tonight I can write the saddest line” by Pablo Neruda in my profile bio, hinting at my quarantine loneliness. The only exception was my name. Instead of my actual name, I put “Jacinto” as my “real” name as a nod to my being gay and my interest in Greek mythology. In a way, I was completely exposing myself while hiding at the same time.

When I tapped the “Post” button with shivering fingers, I didn’t expect anyone to reply. No one did for a while. I refreshed the page a hundred times with clammy hands and a drumming heart. Then, a notification popped up. It said, “Calcirium has sent you a message.” I swear my whole room shook as I leaped off the bed in a flash, all in agonizing anxiety. As I read the message, I paced around my room relentlessly, already scripting my reply.

In the message, “Calcirium” told me that my post made him chuckle and that I seemed like a fun chatterbox. This stranger also noticed the Neruda line in my profile bio and even translated it to its original language and offered some interesting insight. Then, he introduced himself as Julio, a 19-year-old Spanish guy who is studying astrophysics in London. At that point, those red flags waved inside my head. He was too good to be true like the kind of boys I used to read about in John Green novels. But upon further reading, there was a part where he said that he didn’t understand poetry until he fell in love with a guy through the letters that they sent each other. The candidness of this line sold me hook, line, and sinker. He concluded with a Carl Sagan quote that said: “The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.”

It shocked me, how easily Julio divulged a lot of deeply personal details to me, a stranger to him. The candidness of his words made me flustered as if I was looking at the nakedness of this honest person. Julio is unlike the people around me whose laughs conceal emotional walls around them. His willingness to be sincere scared me, to be completely honest. Despite this (or maybe because of this), his fascinating words compelled me to write back and ask for his email.

In our emails, Julio and I hit it off right away as if we were two friends catching up. The poetry of his words reached out of the screen and tugged my heart. I guess he enjoyed my responses too, as he always replied to me before sleeping. In our emails, we debated about how far human progress can go, talked about Plato’s and Schopenhauer’s philosophies, babbled on about our favorite songs, and so many more topics.

As we went deeper into each other’s minds, his stories became even more personal. He confessed to me his fear of death, his insecurities, and his feeling small compared to the vast expanse of the universe. Then, he started talking about how he found the boy he likes through Reddit as well. He told me about how he fell for that boy before even seeing his face. Once, he wrote, “I’m sure one day, very soon, I’ll be sleeping by his side and I’ll tell him: ‘What will I dream of now that I’m so happy awake?’”

On the other hand, my emails included a surplus of “Oh, wow!”, “That’s great!”, and “Good for you!” The stories I told him about my life were only asymptotes, always approaching real-life details but not quite touching on it completely. They were only hints of a life that I’ve kept hidden by a façade of a personality. Instead of genuinely opening up to him, I resorted to haphazard jokes that were devoid of any sincerity. I told him generic stories about imminent college applications and difficult online classes (which, I realize, were excuses that I had gotten good at telling).

Soon, after Julio and I wrote pages upon pages of emails, a nagging feeling drove me to doubt his stories. I thought that he couldn’t have been real. At that point, I already memorized every corner of Julio’s psyche. But doubt has a way of tricking hollow fools like me. So I typed his email on the Facebook search bar, debating with my conscience about whether I should do it. Then, I pressed “Enter.”

When the page loaded, my heart dropped to my stomach because there he was. In front of an old, castle-like building stood a lanky guy with pale skin, chocolate-brown hair, thick eyebrows, sleepy eyes, and a sharp European nose. He wore a brown tartan vest over maroon long-sleeves, and he held a black blazer over his arm. But one thing stood out about him: his smile. His smile was not a stretched-out beam but more of a quiet, shy smile that is almost indiscernible. It looked as friendly as the words in the emails that he sent me. It’s Julio smiling right at me.

I would be lying if I said that I didn’t get any butterflies in my stomach. Julio was attractive in his photo, exactly like how I imagined the boys from John Green novels would look like. But finally, he was a whole, real person in my eyes, not just an abstract idea or a fictional character.

However, in my following emails, I didn’t mention to Julio what I had done. I felt guilty that I’ve seen him, but he hasn’t seen me yet. To me, this was a red flag. I felt like I was a catfish, even though everything I told him about me was truthful. My duplicity to Julio almost felt like voyeurism, like I was taking illicit peeks at his naked body. As he poured himself into his candid emails, I remained hidden behind a mask, behind a pseudonym. And I loathed that feeling.

Eventually, the guilt became far too heavy to carry, and it curbed my motivation to reply to Julio. But because I couldn’t let go of him, I knew I had to do something to revive this motivation. I knew coming clean was the right thing to do. So I revealed what I had done and told Julio to call me “Alfred” instead. I explained that “Jacinto” was only a pseudonym, but everything else I told him was true. When I told him that he might want to look me up on Facebook, he refused. Being the wholesome person he is, he said that he didn’t care.

Our conversations continued for ten more emails or so. Then, he disappeared like a momentary daydream, and that left me crushed into a million glittering pieces. There are people whose hearts are so big and sincere that they dent your own. Julio was one of these people. Now, my chest was left with an indentation in the shape of Julio’s heart. I have only his emails to fill this dent.

Nevertheless, Julio’s sincerity and willingness to bare his soul revealed a fatal flaw of my generation: a hesitance to sincerity. The quarantine period only strengthened that hesitance as people struggle to reach out to one another. It widened that gap between people because now, they feel more distant emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Like how I hid behind a mask when I spoke to Julio, my friends and I were only hollow masks that spoke to one another.

Despite this hesitance to sincerity, quarantine proved that human connection can be found anywhere, just as Julio and I found each other serendipitously. The power of human connection reveals itself more potently in times of hardships if only we are steadfast enough to harness it.

Just like the Carl Sagan quote Julio sent me, perhaps the universe is trying to know itself. Maybe I am the universe, and he is the universe too. I am he. He is I. For all I know, Julio might be my way of trying to make sense of life amid the global health crisis. There were a lot of truths that Julio instilled in me, but the one that I could never forget was the truth of understanding and loving people. I melted off my bed when I read this simple question in one of his emails: “How could I not love your body when it’s your body?” Such simple words. But it holds a world of meaning to me.

When I think about messaging strangers on the Internet, red flags still wave frantically inside my head. But now, I also think of Julio and how I was changed forever after him. Even though I haven’t met him personally, I will miss him and my nightly readings of his emails. I sincerely hope that he finally sleeps in the arms of the boy he likes. I hope that this boy soothes his fears, listens to him intently, and worships him as Julio does to him. I hope he also knows that he had touched my life in profound ways.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and try messaging my friends once again…

written by Alfred

[bgarlich4]

Potential Risks of Social Media      Social Media: To Isolate or                        Communicate?          That is the Question. Hidden Motivators for Utilizing These Competing Platforms.

Social media has essentially changed the entire way that we communicate with others. The risks involved can be more threatening than a person can even understand, until they find themselves a victim of the daunting isolation and polarizing damage that can be done. This has a huge amount to do with the psychological factors included. Because we all vary in psychological health and wellness, the results can vary tremendously. The correlation between loneliness seems ironic in an online world that thrives on communication opportunities. “This is an important issue to study because mental health problems and social isolation are at epidemic levels among young adults. We are inherently social creatures, but modern life tends to compartmentalize us instead of bringing us together. While it may seem that social media presents opportunities to fill that social void, I think this study suggests that it may not be the solution people were hoping for." (Bergland, 2017.).  From a way to see family who lives elsewhere, or an opportunity to promote a business, and even as a method for keeping in touched with loved ones when we are limited by something as catastrophic as a pandemic, the benefits are endless. In the past decade, people have even used social media as a way to find new friends, or even a potential soulmate as dating platforms have gained in popularity. Social media can keep us informed of current events, but it can also mask peer's opinions and turn it into seemingly factual information in very talented ways of seeming legitimate. These wonderful ways of communication can be filtered through others interpretations differently, and unfortunately, we are left with the risks that are potentially attached to such technological advancements. When we get obsessed or dependent on this type of way in which we can communicate with like-minds, this trouble can cause a filter type of reaction and make it harder to even consider opposing groups ideas and values. “Facebooks ability to create filter bubbles, promote divisive content, and accelerate political polarization is no surprise to users who’ve kept up with the platform's many scandals. But two new studies point to pitfalls with commonly proposed solutions and point to a troubling double bind for the 190 million Americans who rely on Facebook for news. Filter bubbles and echo chambers are well researched territory, but the Virginia paper argues against popular understandings of the topics and, tellingly, against diversifying news consumption as a means to mitigate polarization. A liberal may diversify their news source by reading 20 new news sites for the first time. But if they are similar to the person’s current beliefs or further left, it won’t have a moderating effect. Additionally, disrupting a person’s feed with occasional posts outside their usual beliefs can actually reinforce their initial point of view. The most politically active users would routinely engage with content on the other “side,” if only to dismiss it. In journalist parlance, this is called “hate sharing.” A liberal blog may go viral among conservatives because of how strongly readers disagree with it or vice versa. Poetically, the paper terms this a “phenomenon of animosity.”. (Reynolds, 2020.). Isolation and polarization risks can also be masked, as if almost social media sets a person standard accordingly. From a psychological aspect, I can very easily see how people can interpret these platforms so very differently. Different media platforms mixed with all of the different age groups and demographics make it nearly impossible to find a one-size-fits-all protocol or way to help make people aware of their own potential risks. “According to a new national analysis conducted by researchers at the University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine, young adults in the U.S. who use social media more frequently than their peers report higher levels of perceived social isolation.” (Bergland, 2017.). What begins as a way to keep up with one’s correspondences, we have set precedents for ourself and whether it be depicting real life from fake life, it can lead to peer pressure and pressure simply to fit in with different groups. Finding people that we share values and common interests with is a beautiful thing, but when the psych behind it can alter personal ethics; the potential to ‘fit in’ and do as your similar peers are doing seems the only answer. Isolation can make a person feel like they are not of any importance. This past week, our country held an election to declare our next President, and polarization was all sorts of mixed up between the political limelight and the social distanced dilemma the year 2020 has thrown us all into. Recent ‘Uncertain times,’ alone can do a toll on a person's mental health, but when these social media outlets encourage opinion while communicating has been limited, the combination can be so challenging for some. “Americans are more polarized than ever—at least by some measures. A growing body of research suggests that social media is accelerating the trend, and many political scientists worry it’s tearing our country apart. It isn’t clear how to solve the problem. And new research suggests that one often-proposed solution—exposing users on the platforms to more content from the other side—might actually be making things worse, because of how social media amplifies extreme opinions.” (Mims, 2020.). When I stroll through my newsfeed it is generally filled with happy friends and family, because, of course, no one wants to put the real daily stresses up for public display. This is a false image that can make a person with no big family or fun outings feel as if they are not good enough, or that they are in fact alone. It can lead others to depend solely on the use of technology and neglect human interaction all together. These confusing times of a pandemic have not helped matters much when it comes to stress and its factors of polarizing people. To conclude, the dangerous side of social media can be hidden in various ways. The idea that a message or information can be spread so vast and so quickly, often times leaving a footprint that cannot be undone. This is helpful for facts and spreading important, or vital, news stories. But this benefit can quickly go awry in a seemingly subconscious manner in which our minds have been trained to believe we need this type of communication only. Lest this mean that fake information is the only news that spreads fast, the important information can lose it accreditation quite easily. Social media is a wonderful thing, but when it is not used for the intention of communicating in a healthy way, the potential risks can be dangerous, and most of all very disguised in a hidden algorithm. Stay safe fellow Social Media users, and help to inform others of facts; not fear.  

                                              Sources Cited

Bergland, Christopher. (2017, March 7.). Social Media Exacerbates Perceived Social Isolation. Retrieved on November 7, 2020 from https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-athletes-way/201703/social-media-exacerbates-perceived-social-isolation

Mims, Stephen. The Wall Street Journal. (2020, October 19.). Why Social Media is So Good at Polarizing Us. Retrieved on November 8, 2020 from https://www.wsj.com/articles/why-social-media-is-so-good-at-polarizing-us-11603105204

Reynolds, Michael. (2020, March 28.). It’s Hard to Escape Facebook’s Vortex of Polarization. Retrieved on November 8, 2020 from https://www.wired.com/story/facebook-vortex-political-polarization/

[tardisgirlepic]

Ch. 3: “The Doctor Falls” Analysis Doctor Who S10.12: Concepts for Understanding the Complex Symbology of the Characters’ Inner Nature Struggles

<- Read previous chapter

I apologize for getting the rest of these chapters out after several months have gone by.  Life got in the way.  If anyone went to the 12th Doctor panel at the Chicago TARDIS in November, that was me speaking up at the Q&A regarding the subtext.  I never mentioned this set of documents, though, as I feel very self-conscious about advertising my work.  Since I’m writing these documents to help viewers enjoy DW more, I should have mentioned it, and I will at my next opportunity.

Additional Concepts from Analytical Psychology

In the previous chapter, we looked at the characters fighting their inner natures at a superficial level.  However, characters can represent many things at once, which DW loves to do, especially in Season 10.  Bill, for example, as we saw in “The Pilot” analysis, represented all of the nuWho companions. Also, she symbolized a face of the 12th Doctor, which her guitar necklace at the end of the episode symbolized after integrating with him.

While this overloading of symbols attached to certain characters gives us a very rich subtext, it makes it much more difficult to explain.  Therefore, to analyze the characters at a deeper level, we need to look at them through different lenses.  One of these lenses is Carl Jung’s model of the psyche, which requires us to look at additional concepts from Jung’s brand of psychology, analytical psychology. (As we’ve seen, DW is heavily relying on the symbols from analytical psychology for the subtext.)

Even though Jung and Freud are considered founders of psychotherapy, Freud is a household name while the general public does not know Jung nearly as well by name.  This is probably due to the fact that Jung’s model is much more complex than Freud’s, so it’s much harder to wrap one’s head around. 

However, Jung defined many concepts that are very well known and far-reaching.  For example, he defined the concepts of the collective unconscious, introversion and extroversion, archetypes, complexes, the shadow, and much more.  In fact, we’ve seen how important shadows are in DW, although in a different context. However, they take on additional meaning when we use Jung’s definition.  Moffat has a very brilliant but simple example of Bill’s CyberBill Shadow in the finale that perfectly illustrates some aspects of Jung’s model of the psyche.  Therefore, her Shadow represents much more than it seems on the surface.

Also, we’ve seen how DW references fairytales, like Cinderella, and fairytale-like stories, such as The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.  However, I named my first document of this series Fairytales and Romance in Doctor Who for a reason beyond what we’ve already examined.  Through Jung’s interpretations of fairytales (they really are important), he developed many of his ideas, such as archetypes, for his model of the psyche.

Besides the paradigm that we’ve already used to look at the subtext, we also need to look at Doctor Who episodes through the lens of fairytale interpretation.  This lens will give us new, additional meanings of the characters.  The bottom line is that we need to look at these episodes in multiple ways to get the fullest view of what the multi-symbolic characters really represent.

Before we start looking at the deeper meaning of Bill’s CyberShadow and the other characters, we need to take a look at the main parts of Jung’s model. 

Jung’s Model of the Psyche

According to Journal Psyche:

Among Jung’s most important work was his in-depth analysis of the psyche, which he explained as follows: “By psyche I understand the totality of all psychic processes, conscious as well as unconscious,” separating the concept from conventional concept of the mind, which is generally limited to the processes of the conscious brain alone.

Jung believed that the psyche is a self-regulating system, rather like the body, one that seeks to maintain a balance between opposing qualities while constantly striving for growth, a process Jung called “individuation”.

Jung saw the psyche as something that could be divided into component parts with complexes and archetypal contents personified, in a metaphorical sense, and functioning rather like secondary selves that contribute to the whole.

Like Freud, Jung believed the psyche is made up of 3 main parts, albeit they are somewhat different: the ego, the personal unconscious, and the collective unconscious.

The Ego The ego represents everything a person is aware of: thoughts, emotions, and memories.  And Simply Psychology says, “The ego is largely responsible for feelings of identity and continuity.”

The Personal Unconscious According to Jung, the superficial layer of the unconscious is the personal unconscious, which is basically the same as the Freudian unconscious.

According to Wikipedia:

The personal unconscious includes anything which is not presently conscious, but can be. The personal unconscious is made up essentially of contents which have at one time been conscious but have disappeared from consciousness through having been forgotten or repressed. The personal unconscious is like most people's understanding of the unconscious in that it includes both memories that are easily brought to mind and those that have been suppressed for some reason. Jung's theory of a personal unconscious is quite similar to Freud’s creation of a region containing a person's repressed, forgotten or ignored experiences. However, Jung considered the personal unconscious to be a "more or less superficial layer of the unconscious." Within the personal unconscious is what he called "feeling-toned complexes." He said that "they constitute the personal and private side of psychic life."

A great example here is the Doctor forgetting Clara.  She became part of his personal unconscious.

A complex, according to Simply Psychology is “a collection of thoughts, feelings, attitudes and memories that focus on a single concept” in the personal unconscious.

The more elements attached to the complex, the greater its influence on the individual. Jung also believed that the personal unconscious was much nearer the surface than Freud suggested and Jungian therapy is less concerned with repressed childhood experiences.

A great example of a complex is the Doctor’s feelings toward the Hybrid.  He ran away from Gallifrey because, as Ashildr said, he was afraid of himself.  Obviously, thoughts of being the Hybrid were extremely distressing and persistent, and they had a great influence on his behavior. Therefore, Jung would say that the Doctor had a complex about believing he was the Hybrid.

The Collective Unconscious The collective unconscious is Jung’s most controversial contribution to his personality theory. BTW, his theory was used to create the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, a popular personality test.

According to Simply Psychology:

This is a level of unconscious shared with other members of the human species comprising latent memories from our ancestral and evolutionary past. ‘The form of the world into which [a person] is born is already inborn in him, as a virtual image’ (Jung, 1953, p. 188).

One thing to keep in mind is that Jung believed we shouldn’t take the entire model literally.  It’s metaphorical.  For example, if one takes the idea of a collective unconscious literally at first glance, that can conjure erroneous ideas, at least it did in me before I started studying Jung’s work.  Initially, I didn’t think much of his collective unconscious at a literal level, but as I learned more and about how he came up with the idea of this collective, I could see his points.  Also, once I realized that he never meant it literally, I could see how brilliant this was.  

Jung believed that personality was both a function of the environment and heredity, which, although very controversial at the time, has been borne out, like many parts of his theory, by research, especially on twins.

A great example of how the collective unconscious works is to look at CyberBill.  Instinctively, when CyberBill got angry, she destroyed part of the barn by zapping her energy beam because that was part of her so-called “genetics” of how Cybermen work.  This instinctive behavior is part of the collective unconscious of Cybermen and what Jung called an archetype.

Regarding archetype, according to Ann Hopwood, Jung wrote

‘the term archetype is not meant to denote an inherited idea, but rather an inherited mode of functioning, corresponding  to the inborn way in which the chick emerges from the egg, the bird builds its nest, a certain kind of wasp stings the motor ganglion of the caterpillar, and eels find their way to the Bermudas.  In other words, it is a “pattern of behaviour”.  This aspect of the archetype, the purely biological one, is the proper concern of scientific psychology’.  (CW18, para 1228).

Hopwood, herself, goes on to say

The archetypes predispose us to approach life and to experience it in certain ways, according to patterns laid down in the psyche. There are archetypal figures, such as mother, father, child, archetypal events, such as birth, death, separation, and archetypal objects such as water, the sun, the moon, snakes, and so on. These images find expression in the psyche, in behaviour and in myths.

We’ve certainly looked at some of these archetypal figures, such as the sun and the moon, even though I didn’t describe them as archetypes at the time.  They are an extremely important part of storytelling because these patterns come with certain specified characteristics that enrich characters. 

The Self Archetype We’ve examined the concept of the Self before.  It’s the unification of the conscious with the unconscious, which represents the psyche as a whole, making all that is unknown about oneself known.  We saw how Self (capitalized) represented the individuation of a person, in other words self-actualization, integrating one’s personality: the person has achieved their highest potential.  This is a goal of the Great Work, which we’ve seen.

The Self symbol is a circle with a dot in the middle, shown below, which is the same ancient symbol used for sun.  The centered dot is the Ego while the Self is both the whole and the centered dot.

As we saw, the Doctor would not be healed and achieve who he was born to be until he achieved Self, coming to terms with whom he actually was, which meant confronting his dark side and accepting it to move past it.  “Hell Bent” happened the way it did because it had to happen that way for the subtext story.  The Doctor had to confront his dark, psychopathic side of not caring about destroying the universe for someone he loved.

In fact, check out the deleted scenes for Season 10, especially the one from “Knock Knock” at 2:40. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bupTCmouOnI  He confirms this.

The Shadow Archetype Finally, we get to the Shadow archetype.  I’ve seen a lot of psychology sites define this in terms of the Jungian model, but none reflect it the way Marie-Louise von Franz, Jung’s protégé, does in Shadow and Evil in Fairy Tales.  She said Jung would get angry with students who took his concepts too literally and say, “The shadow is simply the whole unconscious.”

In general, it’s everything that isn’t known about oneself, including repressed memories.  The Shadow generally represents the darker side of oneself, things we don’t want to know or think about.  However, there may be good things about oneself that are unknown or repressed, too.

Nevertheless, von Franz said that we have to “bear in mind the personal situation and even specific stage of consciousness and inner awareness of the person in question” when we speak of the Shadow.  It’s contextual and changes as the person becomes enlightened.  And she goes on, “Thus at the beginning stage we can say that the shadow is all that is within you which you do not know about.” 

Missy’s discovery of her good side is a great example of the brighter side of her Shadow.  Did Missy repress her good side?  It sounds like it since she and the Doctor used to be friends. Perhaps it was the Time Lords’ earworm of the drumbeat that changed everything.  It certainly changed a lot and instilled hatred and revenge in the Master toward the Time Lords.

Missy could not become aware of her Shadow without moral effort, just as the Doctor couldn’t become aware of his Shadow without moral effort.

However, as von Franz said, “But this is no achievement, for then comes the much more difficult problem where most people have great trouble: they know what their shadow is, but they cannot express it much or integrate it into their lives.”

Near the end of the finale, Missy does try to integrate the Shadow into her life when she decided to symbolically and literally kill her dark side in favor of doing the right thing – standing with the Doctor to help save the colonists.  Interestingly, the integration of her Shadow does go wrong, though, as her dark side makes a stand too, and decides to kill the good side. It’s a fascinating externalization of the battle of the inner nature one goes through to achieve higher levels of consciousness.  One cannot advance without the conflicts and possible setbacks. 

The Anima and Animus Archetypes We’ve looked at these archetypes before, especially in regards to “The Return of Doctor Mysterio” and the brain room.  We examined how the unconscious of a man is expressed as a feminine inner personality called the anima while the unconscious of a woman is expressed as the masculine inner personality called the animus.

As we saw back in “The Return of Doctor Mysterio” analysis, the Animus was also the character out of the 1st Doctor story “The Web Planet.” Its use and context in the story is a clear indication that Jung’s definition of Animus was intended.  The story, therefore, deals with the unconscious, even though it mostly doesn’t seem that way on the surface.  The unconscious is a very common subtext subject in DW, going all the way back to the beginning of DW.  Therefore, DW is beating us over the head again, especially by naming a character “Animus,” telling us we should use Carl Jung’s model of the psyche to analyze DW.

Jung believed that the Anima and Animus development had 4 distinct levels for each.

According to Wikipedia:

In broad terms, the entire process of anima development in a man is about the male subject opening up to emotionality, and in that way a broader spirituality, by creating a new conscious paradigm that includes intuitive processes, creativity and imagination, and psychic sensitivity towards himself and others where it might not have existed previously.

The 12th Doctor’s character arc beautifully illustrates this process.

The 4 levels of Anima development are

Eve, named after the Genesis account of Adam and Eve.

Helen, an allusion to Helen of Troy in Greek mythology.

Mary, named after the Christian theological understanding of the Virgin Mary

Sophia, named after the Greek word for wisdom.

Of these 4, we’ve seen references to the first 3.  (Helen is connected to the Trojan Horse, which shows up as a toy Trojan Horse in the finale.)  Therefore, it seems very likely that there would be a character or some reference to Sophia or wisdom in the upcoming Christmas Special. 

Wikipedia goes on to say of a woman’s Animus:

Jung focused more on the man's anima and wrote less about the woman's animus. Jung believed that every woman has an analogous animus within her psyche, this being a set of unconscious masculine attributes and potentials. He viewed the animus as being more complex than the anima, postulating that women have a host of animus images whereas the male anima consists only of one dominant image.

The 4 parallel levels of Animus development are

Man of mere physical power

Man of action or romance

Man as a professor, clergyman, orator

Man as a spiritual guide

The really interesting thing here about the levels of Animus development is that they correspond with the 12th Doctor.  He:

Went hell bent through the universe with a terrible destructive power

Went to romance River

Became the professor and was an orator, giving TED Talks-type lectures

Became like Clarence the Angel 2nd Class in It’s a Wonderful Life; the Doctor got his wings by becoming Missy’s spiritual guide and redeeming her

That makes the Doctor the Animus, and we’ll talk about what this means in a bit.

Other Archetypes It’s impossible to list all the archetypes because there are so many variants, and they end up blending. However, Wikipedia does have an interesting, basic list of archetypal events, figures, and motifs, most of which we’ve talked about in some form as they’ve arisen in the subtext:

Jung described archetypal events: birth, death, separation from parents, initiation, marriage, the union of opposites; archetypal figures: great mother, father, child, devil, god, wise old man, wise old woman, the trickster, the hero; and archetypal motifs: the apocalypse, the deluge, the creation. Although the number of archetypes is limitless, there are a few particularly notable, recurring archetypal images, "the chief among them being" (according to Jung) "the shadow, the wise old man, the child, the mother ... and her counterpart, the maiden, and lastly the anima in man and the animus in woman". Alternatively he would speak of "the emergence of certain definite archetypes ... the shadow, the animal, the wise old man, the anima, the animus, the mother, the child".

So as you can see, DW is drawing heavily on Jung’s archetypes to tell the stories.  Since Jung’s work with fairytale interpretations is how he came up with the archetypes, DW is begging us to look at the episodes as fairytales, including how to interpret them – in part. 

There is one archetype that we do need to look at further to help explain the characters in the finale.

The Child Archetype & Some Variants

While I don’t want to get into most of the archetypes in depth other than what we already covered, the Child archetype is one that we haven’t discussed much, especially since there are several variants to look at that are important for the finale.

The Child Archetype

We all have an inner child, which is what the Child archetype refers to.  Jung saw the Child as representing the developing personality.  If we had one word to describe a quality of a child, many of us would say innocence. There is a playfulness and naivety that corresponds to children in general.  However, there is the darker side where, for example, children throw tantrums and hide from responsibility.  They are dependent, but as they grow they should become more responsible.  The healthy Child balances playfulness and the fun side with the increasing responsibilities of the adult.

Carolyn Myss, internationally renowned author and speaker of human consciousness and spirituality, states:

The Child also establishes our perceptions of life, safety, nurture, loyalty, and family. Its many aspects include the Wounded Child, Abandoned or Orphan Child, Dependent, Innocent, Nature, and Divine Child. These energies may emerge in response to different situations in which you find yourself, yet the core issue of all the Child archetypes is dependency vs. responsibility: when to take responsibility, when to have a healthy dependency, when to stand up to the group, and when to embrace communal life. Each of the variants of the Child archetype is characterized by certain tendencies, including shadow tendencies.

When adults tap into the inner Child, these qualities and more come forth.  For example, we saw the 12th Doctor’s playfulness of his Child come out with Clara in Season 9.  However, the 11th Doctor best represents playfulness, impulsiveness, and spontaneity of the Child archetype, as well as hiding from the responsibility of dealing with his PTSD from the Time War.  His anger and power made him a huge threat to the universe, which terrified his enemies.  He was dependent, too, on people to admire him, which was partially what his episode “The God Complex” was about.

In nuWho, the long 10-season arc is about dealing with the damage of the Time War. 

The 9th Doctor was left angry after the Time War and tortured a Dalek in “Dalek”

The 10th Doctor wasn’t giving 2nd chances, no mercy; he said that he had been full of mercy before the war

The 11th Doctor was hiding from responsibility

The 12th had to come face to face with reality and deal with the damage from the Time War to heal

Reacting to situations unconsciously through fear or anger, for example, can stifle the learning and growth of the inner Child.  Since the Doctor had this problem, it was up to the companions to help make him better, healing him throughout nuWho.  Clara even goes back to the Doctor as a child to help heal him, which is symbolic of helping the inner Child.  It’s important for the Doctor to be conscious of his archetypal patterns and how they affect his behaviors in order to move beyond harmful issues.  This is exactly what we’ve been watching with the 12th Doctor.  He, like any soldier, is going through all the pain and torture of reliving memories and nightmares (the Veil is a metaphor for them), as well as tapping into that inner Child to finally heal. 

Therefore, the Child archetype is extremely important, and it’s not surprising at all, in fact, it was expected that children would figure prominently in the finale.  I even named Chapter 18 of my Fairytales document “Rescuing Children & Missy/Master.”  I meant “children” in both the literal and archetypal (metaphorical) sense.

Nardole Nardole has taken on several roles which we’ve examined, but there is one that we haven’t looked at. In “The Husbands of River Song,” it took me awhile to figure out what metaphorical part he was playing.  Once he lost his head and took off flying with Hydroflax, I realized that he represented the Doctor’s inner Child and the cowardly part of the Doctor. 

In fact, Ramone and King Hydroflax also represented the Doctor.  River wasn’t being unfaithful as it appears on the surface.  These 3 faces are all different externalized representations of the Doctor.  That’s why the sheriff’s shield from “Robot of Sherwood” was in King Hydroflax’s ship.  Ramone was the romantic side while we’ll talk more about King Hydroflax in a bit.  River was trying to symbolically kill King Hydroflax to help heal the Doctor of his psychopathic tendencies. 

It’s all part of the rescue.

In the finale, the Doctor’s strength of destruction was symbolized, as we saw in the finale, by his longer hair, which we’ll also examine more in the next chapter with additional symbolism.  As River said in the 11th Doctor story “The Angels Take Manhattan,” she and the Doctor couldn’t be together in the TARDIS for extended periods of time because they were both psychopaths. Therefore, killing Hydroflax (the psychopathic part of the Doctor) and being together on Darillium helped heal them both.

BTW, at the end of THORS, Ramone was the only face we saw in Hydroflax’s body while we only heard Nardole’s voice from inside.  That implied that the Doctor’s cowardly side disappeared when he was with River, while his romantic side took over.  In fact, there is a lovely deleted scene in “Thin Ice” at the link above with him talking with Bill about River, the Ice Fair, and setting a romantic mood for his wife.

Alit Alit was meant to be the physical representation of the Child archetype.  She mirrored the child Doctor in “Listen.”  (She also mirrored Bill, which we’ll get to in the next chapter.) Alit, like the young Doctor, felt different and apart from the other children.  For example, while the other children in “The Doctor Falls” were happy to see Hazran, Alit looked around like it was her first time at the farmhouse. Then, she was lying on her bed while all the other children were playing.  It’s similar to how the young Doctor separated himself and stayed in the barn-like structure.

Also, she had a problem listening to authority just like the Doctor.  For example, Hazran told her to get under the bed and stay there. However, not only did Alit complain, but also she didn’t stay there long.  She alone got up and looked out the window.

We’ll examine her and the other main characters more below because they fit at least one of the variants of the Child archetype.  Please keep in mind there are other variants that I’m not listing below because, while they are used in DW, they are not essential for the finale. 

The Wounded Child

Carolyn Myss states:

The Wounded Child archetype holds the memories of abuse, neglect, and other traumas that we have endured during childhood. This is the Child pattern most people relate to, particularly since it has become the focus of therapy since the 1960s. Many people blame the relationship with their parents that created their Wounded Child, for instance, for all their subsequent dysfunctional relationships. On the positive side, the painful experiences of the Wounded Child often awaken a deep sense of compassion and a desire to help other Wounded Children. From a spiritual perspective, a wounded childhood cracks open the learning path of forgiveness.

The shadow aspect may manifest as an abiding sense of self-pity, a tendency to blame our parents for any current shortcomings and to resist moving on through forgiveness. It may also lead us to seek out parental figures in all difficult situations rather than relying on our own resourcefulness.

A great example of the Wounded Child is the Master.  The Time Lords drove him crazy by installing a drumbeat earworm in his head, and he wanted revenge in “The End of Time.”  He blamed them for the abuse and other traumas for making him the way he was. He is the Shadow aspect of this archetype.

The Doctor fits the Wounded Child archetype too, but at a different stage.  We saw his forgiveness of Bonnie after his war speech in “The Zygon Inversion.”  Then, we saw that his own painful experiences awakened his deep sense of compassion and desire to help others, like Missy.

The Abandoned/Orphan Child

Carolyn Myss states:

From Little Orphan Annie to Cinderella, the Orphan Child in most well known children’s stories reflects the lives of people who feel from birth as if they are not a part of their family, including the family psyche or tribal spirit. But because orphans are not allowed into the family circle, they have to develop independence early on. The absence of family influences, attitudes, and traditions inspires or compels the Orphan Child to construct an inner reality based on personal judgment and experience.

The shadow aspect manifests when Orphans never recover from feelings of abandonment, and the scar tissue from family rejection stifles their maturation, often causing them to seek surrogate family structures to experience tribal union. Therapeutic support groups become shadow tribes or families for an Orphan Child who knows deep down that healing these wounds requires moving on to adulthood. For that reason, establishing mature relationships remains a challenge.

There are several characters that symbolize the Abandoned/Orphan Child archetype: Bill, the Doctor, Nardole, and Alit. 

Bill While Bill was a real orphan, symbolizing this archetype, she also felt abandoned by the Doctor.  Initially, she developed an inner reality of her mother, which helped her gain an independence that saved her from failing victim to the Monks.  Then, she even developed an inner reality as CyberBill.

The Doctor The child Doctor is a great example of not feeling part of a family in the orphanage of sorts.  He separated himself from the rest of the children in a self-imposed manner.  Then, he was only 8 when the Time Lords put him into a life of service, as the Master said happened to Time Lord children.  He had to develop independence in the absence of family.  He saw Missy as the only person who was like himself, so he felt a great sense of aloneness.

Nardole In “The Doctor Falls,” Nardole and Hazran had an interesting conversation:

HAZRAN: I've never met anyone like you. So where are you from? NARDOLE: I don't know. I was sort of found.

Because Nardole didn’t know where he was from being sort of found, these imply that he also was the Abandoned/Orphan Child archetype.  That fits with being a face of the Doctor and the Doctor’s inner Child.

Alit As we’ve seen, Alit very much mirrors the child Doctor, so it’s not surprising that she would be the Abandoned/Orphan Child archetype.

Dependent Child

Carolyn Myss states:

The Needy or Dependent Child carries a heavy feeling inside that nothing is ever enough, and is always seeking to replace something lost in childhood – although exactly what is never clear. As with the Wounded Child, this leads to bouts of depression, only more severe. The Dependent Child tends to be focused on his own needs, often unable to see the needs of others. As with all apparently negative archetypes, you can learn to recognize its emergence and use it as a guide to alert you when you are in danger of falling into needy, self-absorbed attitudes and behavior.

The Master/Missy The Master is a great example of the Needy Child, as he’s always looking to control things and people since he had no control of his childhood, as we saw.

Also, Missy needed the Doctor to be like her, so she hooked him up with Clara to control him.  However, Missy and the Master aren’t the only needy ones. 

The Doctor While we saw above that the 11th Doctor needed admiration, making him dependent, he wasn’t alone.  The 12th Doctor showed his neediness in the first part of the finale when he needed Missy to be good, disregarding Bill’s safety.  He got Bill killed because of it.

Magical/Innocent Child

Carolyn Myss states:

The Magical Child sees the potential for sacred beauty in all things, and embodies qualities of wisdom and courage in the face of difficult circumstances. One example is Anne Frank, who wrote in her diary that in spite of all the horror surrounding her family while hiding from Nazis in an attic, she still believed that humanity was basically good. This archetype is also gifted with the power of imagination and the belief that everything is possible.

The shadow energy of the Magical Child manifests as the absence of the possibility of miracles and of the transformation of evil to good. Attitudes of pessimism and depression, particularly when exploring dreams, often emerge from an injured Magical Child whose dreams were “once upon a time” thought foolish by cynical adults. The shadow may also manifest as a belief that energy and action are not required, allowing one to retreat into fantasy.

We’ve examined this archetype before, although in a different way: as part of the Sacred Marriage of the Great Work back in the Fairytales document Chapter 13: "Clara Has to Come Back: The Love Story and The Ghost."

The Doctor, Merlin, and The Ghost are all part of the Magical Child archetype. Certainly, we’ve seen how the Doctor and Grant as the Ghost thought all things were possible.  After all, it was Grant’s wishes that got him to where he was as an adult.  Therefore, Grant symbolizes the externalization of the Magical Child in a magical type of episode.

In “The Doctor Falls,” the Doctor did do something magical.   When he was running through the forest shooting Cyberman, at one point he lifted his hand to the sky without his sonic, shown below. However, Cybermen were still exploding.  DW shows the Doctor in many magical moments but they are very subtle.

Divine Child

Carolyn Myss states:

The Divine Child is closely related to both the Innocent and Magical Child, but is distinguished from them by its redemptive mission. It is associated with innocence, purity, and redemption, god-like qualities that suggest that the Child enjoys a special union with the Divine itself. Few people are inclined to choose the Divine Child as their dominant Child archetype, however, because they have difficulty acknowledging that they could live continually in divine innocence. And yet, divinity is also a reference point of your inner spirit that you can turn to when you are in a conscious process of choice. You may also assume that anything divine cannot have a shadow aspect, but that’s not realistic.

She goes on to say:

The shadow of this archetype manifests as an inability to defend itself against negative forces. Even the mythic gods and most spiritual masters — including Jesus, who is the template of the Divine Child for the Christian tradition — simultaneously expressed anger and divine strength when confronting those who claimed to represent heaven while manifesting injustice, arrogance, or other negative qualities (think of Jesus’ wrath at the money-changers in the Temple). Assess your involvement with this archetype by asking whether you see life through the eyes of a benevolent, trusting God/Goddess, or whether you tend to respond initially with fear of being hurt or with a desire to hurt others first.

We’ve seen over and over how the Doctor is on a rescue/redemptive mission for himself, Missy, and other children, who represent other Child archetypes.  He certainly has god-like qualities, for example, being able to create the universe by rebooting it and destroying it.  And DW is using religious symbolism to show us, in part, the Divine Child.

The whole idea of going back to the Child archetype and fixing whatever wounds the Doctor had takes him back to a sort of innocence, which is a redemption.

The 13th Doctor will have no need to have the St John Ambulance symbol – which, as we’ve seen, is both a symbol of torture and healing – on the door of the TARDIS.  She can begin anew, unburdened by the events of the Time War that plagued her nuWho predecessors.

The Rocking Horse Metaphor

It’s seems very appropriate that in the finale where the Child archetype loomed large that we also saw 3 rocking horses in the episode.  Rocking horses are symbols of early childhood in addition to DW’s Horse metaphor so part of the rescue. 

There is a large rocking horse (white arrow) in the schoolroom with the Master and Missy. The horse is easier to see in the episode.  The schoolroom, too, is symbolic of childhood, adding to the whole Child archetype.

Also, there are 2 small rocking horses (yellow arrows) in the scene with the Doctor and Alit in the farmhouse.  The interesting thing here is that the Doctor wiped them and the other toys (toy soldiers, Trojan Horse, caboose, etc.) away to symbolize a reboot.  Because he wiped the rocking horses away, they symbolized negative aspects that the Doctor wanted to get rid of, just like the other toys.

Given that we are dealing with the Wounded Child archetype, I believe the rocking horses also are a reference to a classic D.H. Lawrence short story “The Rocking-Horse Winner.” The rocking horse took on multiple negative symbols in the story and led to the death of Paul, a child.  The only meaning that we need to be concerned about, as it pertains to the finale, is that it was a symbol of the fatal obsessions of a Wounded Child. 

Certainly, the 12th Doctor had been fatally obsessed with certain things.  For example, in “Listen” he had to find out what was at the end of the universe, and it nearly killed him.   Clara had to intervene and go back to his childhood, a symbol of saving the inner Child.  He was also obsessed with redeeming Missy, which was fatal to Bill.

Anyway, in the image above, when the Doctor wiped the horses away, he was wiping away the wounds.  His inner Child was symbolically healed.

Before we get to a deeper understanding of the characters using the archetypes, we need to look at the Great Work again.

Reviewing a Few Concepts of the Great Work

I believe it’s worthwhile in a chapter on Jung’s model of the psyche to review a few points of the Great Work, as it defines the process someone goes through to achieve Self.

Transformational Personal and Spiritual Process

In Chapter 9 in the pre-viewing analysis of Doctor Mysterio, I said of this process:

The Great Work can be used to describe the psychological process of personal and spiritual transmutation to achieve individuation, meaning wholeness of Self, by integrating one’s unconscious with one’s conscious. Individuation has the effect of holistic healing, both mentally and physically. This process, if carried out through the 4th stage, brings out the person’s purest nature.

The Great Work Basics

A little later, I explained the basics:

While alchemists of old tried to transmute lead and mercury into gold, gold became a metaphor for the soul being freed from a dead or leaden state of mind (why we’ve seen all the dream-like episodes), as a way to move toward consciousness, an understanding of self, and spiritual enlightenment.

The standard definition involves a four-step process of transmutation:

nigredo (blackening) is the Shadow (negative, fearful aspects of the unconscious)

albedo (whitening) refers to the anima or animus, a reflected light appears in the darkness

citrinitas (yellowing) is the wise old man (or woman) archetype, solar light from within – Sun stage

rubedo (reddening) is the Self archetype, which has achieved wholeness

Each level does several things: it burns off impurities, such as fears and other negative aspects; creates a union (alchemical marriage); and generates a rebirth of one’s sense of self. In order to get to the next level, there has to be a death of that sense of self. A fiery love at each stage opens the heart to greater depths and purifies the alchemist to awaken them to a greater sense of self. Eventually, the person would show their purest nature. However, few people reach the highest level (rubedo – red), for example, becoming Christ-like. In another example, we would talk about Buddha-nature in kung fu and taiji.

Elixir of Life & Philospher’s Stone

The Great Work is the process that creates the philosopher’s stone.  It’s also called the elixir of life, which is interesting because DW uses that term for the substance that the Sisterhood of Karn drank to achieve immortality, one of the real-world goals of the philosopher’s stone, along with rejuvenation.  The Sisterhood also used it to create the War Doctor.  The stone represents the goal of the individuation process, finding a wholeness of Self.

In Christian Terms

In similar Christian terms, this is the process one’s soul takes on the journey home to reconcile with God through Christ's sacrificial suffering and death. Wikipedia says of the philosopher’s stone (lapis philosophorum a.k.a lapis), “Many of the medieval allegories for a Christ were adopted for the lapis, and the Christ and the Stone were indeed taken as identical in a mystical sense.” 

I’m not suggesting we should look at this in a mystical sense.  The Great Work, like religion, is meant to be a transformative, spiritual experience to make one a better person.  Uniting aspects of the conscious and unconscious brings enlightenment, which can seem mystical in the similar sense as undergoing religious revelations.

As for the Doctor, he symbolically achieved his pure nature at the end of the finale, which his kindness speech signified.  He got redemption after he sacrificed his life for the good of others and sent Heather to Bill.  His 2 angel wings represented not only his ascension to Heaven, but also his completion of the 4th stage of the Great Work.  Through this sacrifice, he became Christ-like, Buddha-like. 

Same Characters Can Represent Different Stages of the Great Work

While we’ve looked at the standard, 4-step Great Work process, which was highlighted through the 4 representative colors (black, white, gold, and red) in “The Return of Doctor Mysterio,” we’ve also seen how the 12th Doctor represents the 12-step Great Work with the Fish metaphor.  For our purposes in this chapter, we’re going to stick with the 4-step process.

Missy and the Master are great examples of the same character at different stages.  Missy was much more enlightened at the beginning of “World Enough and Time” than the Master.  She was doing the moral work of making her Shadow part of her conscious. However, the Master represented the nigredo or black stage, the first stage of the Great Work, while Missy was a later stage.  Just before the end of her life, she made the choice to become fully enlightened by actualizing the goodness within as part of her character. 

In fact, the image, shown below, of her lying dead on the ground tells us a lot.  The photo is harder to see than the actual episode, so I’ve marked her 2 arms (white arrows), which are held out in a crucified position. The subtext is telling us she achieved the Christ-like, final stage of the Great Work (for a woman that would be the Mother of God, a.k.a Virgin Mary, symbol) and was crucified for it.  It is significant that she rebuffed the Master’s sexual advances, which supports the Mother of God symbol.

Fairytales, Spirituality & the Shadow

Doing fairytale interpretations using Jung’s model adds a whole new spiritual dimension to fairytales, including DW as a whole.  After all, Jung believed that spirituality was a huge part of actualizing Self to become whole through the process of the Great Work.  This is exactly what, as we’ve seen, the Doctor has been going through, borne out by all the spiritual symbolism in the finale and elsewhere.

Furthermore, it’s not lost on me that the 2017 Christmas Special is titled “Twice Upon a Time.” The reference to fairytales is unmistakable.  River even said they were all fairytales. 

Therefore, DW is beating us over the head with the idea of fairytales, and we need to take notice in more than just a superficial way. 

Just like our other lenses, the fairytale lens is like viewing an onion.  I’ll pull back a few layers to give you an idea of how this works and what the characters represent, but by no means will this character analysis be complete.  It could never be.  Each time we revisit an episode, we could do additional interpretations with possibly deeper meaning, especially after watching other episodes.  Also, as our knowledge of Classic Who episodes grows, they help refine our understanding of nuWho symbolism.

Spirituality & the Ship’s Arabian Nights (One Thousand and One Nights)

While in Western culture, we don’t typically associate spirituality with fairytales, many don’t make much sense unless we do.  Or they can take on a more important spiritual meaning than a traditional surface reading affords.  We can look at Grimm’s fairytales, as an example, since the Doctor mentioned the Grimm brothers.  But the finale makes reference to another set of fairytales, which I want to point out.

The clock on the ship had a differential of 1001 years on the day counter at one point, shown below. My daughter reminded me that 1001 was a reference to Scheherazade and One Thousand and One Nights, better known in English as Arabian Nights.  According to Wikipedia, they are “a collection of Middle Eastern folk tales compiled in Arabic during the Islamic Golden Age.”

The frame story is that Scheherazade agreed to marry the king, who killed his previous wives, believing that all women were unfaithful, like his first.  Scheherazade didn’t want to suffer the same fate, so she cunningly used stories.  Wikipedia says

On the night of their marriage, Scheherazade begins to tell the king a tale, but does not end it. The king, curious about how the story ends, is thus forced to postpone her execution in order to hear the conclusion. The next night, as soon as she finishes the tale, she begins (and only begins) a new one, and the king, eager to hear the conclusion of this tale, postpones her execution once again. So it goes on for 1,001 nights.

These fairytales are not merely stories.  They are meant to be used for spiritual enlightenment.  Reading the spiritual symbolism, they show the trials the soul has to go through to reach full enlightenment.

They have a connection to our DW characters, as well.  Interestingly, Missy was the one whom the Doctor was supposed to execute.  Then, he was supposed to watch over her dead-ish body in the Vault for at least 1000 years.  Being on the ship for over 1000 years, as far as the ship’s differential was concerned, he fulfilled his obligation of watching over her. 

At the same time, the implication is that Missy’s execution was delayed by more than 1001 years, so in a way they mirrored the frame story of One Thousand and One Nights. 

DW, itself, is reminiscent of Christian parables or passages from the Dao De Jing where just as one’s spiritual development grows, so does one’s understanding of the profoundness of the parables and passages.  As we peel away layers of the onion, the beautiful spiritual treasure inside is revealed.

Characters Can Represent Aspects of Each Other’s Psyche

While using other characters to represent some aspect of a main character is a classic storytelling technique designed to make stories much more engaging, characters can represent aspects of each other.  In this way, the story can add to the main characters’ characterizations without bogging them down in the text.  This technique also adds a lot of dimension and extends what can be done.  It’s much more interesting in a show like DW to watch different characters deal with problems than to have to trudge over a mountain of problems for one character.

Above, we saw how the Doctor ended up mirroring the stages of the Animus development, which may seem quite odd because he becomes the unconscious of a woman, expressed as the masculine inner personality: the animus.  Therefore, the implication is that in addition to how we already view the Doctor, we should, in one sense, consider him an externalization of a woman’s inner personality for the fairytale interpretation.  It sounds strange, but is it really?

The Doctor and Missy The Doctor and Missy are like 2 sides of the same coin.  We saw him become like her in “Hell Bent,” where he didn’t care if he destroyed the universe to save Clara.  The psychopath in him came forth.  He had to confront the Hybrid in his Shadow, as part of his healing. He couldn’t move past it until he accepted that side of himself to move beyond it.

Of course, Season 10 dealt with Missy’s psychopathic side.  Once the Doctor became enlightened, he could then help Missy do the same.  In the end, she mirrored his goodness.

Coming back to something I mentioned in a previous chapter and delayed the explanation until now is the dialogue between the Doctor and Missy on the rooftop where Missy talks about being in 2 minds.  First, the Doctor said

DOCTOR: Knock yourself out. (Missy pirouettes and KO's the Master with her parasol.) MISSY: Your wish is my command. (She unties the Doctor.) MISSY: I was secretly on your side all along, you silly sausage. DOCTOR: Is that true? MISSY: Don't spoil the moment. DOCTOR: Seriously, I need to know. Is that true? (He holds Missy's hand.) MISSY: It's hard to say. I, I'm in two minds. Fortunately, the other one's unconscious.

How can she be in 2 minds unless there is a telepathic link, for example?  OR is she an externalization of, for one thing, the Master’s psyche?  The answer is that both are possible.

“Last Christmas” beats us over the head with the concept that characters can be externalizations of an aspect of the psyche. Also, the episode made it quite clear that the characters were connected in a shared mental state, a multi-consciousnness gestalt that formed telepathically.  As we know, things aren’t really happening the way they seem, as we are viewing constructs from the unconscious, supporting the whole fairytale theme.  Santa is a great example:

SANTA: Hey. You want to take the reins, Doctor? DOCTOR: You're a dream construct, currently representing either my recovering or expiring mind.

Missy is no different, functioning like the Santa dream construct.  How else could she survive in the locked Vault (a metaphor for the unconscious) without any food for 6 months, since no one came to visit her while the Doctor was on the prison ship?  Since we know that Clara is Missy’s familiar from the title “The Witch’s Familiar,” Clara is Missy’s proxy.  And we know that Clara was in the Doctor’s personal unconscious.  By extension of the proxy relationship, Missy was in the Doctor’s mind. 

This makes sense, too, as the Doctor and Missy are 2 sides of the same coin and Shadows of each other. This brings to mind the image from “Tooth and Claw” where the 10th Doctor’s and the werewolf’s faces are pressed against the wall on opposite sides of it, shown below.  The subtext unmistakably shows us that the Doctor had a dark side.  He and the wolf were 2 sides of the same coin.

Season 10 showed us many times that Missy was mimicking the Doctor, as she was becoming like him.  Therefore, through this lens, Missy’s struggle for redemption represents the Doctor’s inner fight of his nature.  And he, hers.  Missy’s struggle allows us to see how he had to come to terms internally with killing a lot of people.  While he represents her Animus, she represents his Anima.

Another interesting point to note is that gender roles are vital to the Anima and Animus. Therefore, as far as the subtext story is concerned, the Doctor had to be male externally until he reconciled his feminine inner personality with his outer masculine personality, shown by the reconciliation of Missy and the Doctor. 

Since the 12th Doctor achieved that, it was inevitable that the Doctor would be able to become a woman externally.  It’s clear to me from the subtext all the way back into Classic Who with the 7th Doctor that DW was marching down the road toward reconciling the Doctor’s male/female split problem: the female personality was always internal and always hiding.  In fact, the 10th Doctor’s Time Lord consciousness in the watch, when he turned himself human, had a female voice among the men’s, as we saw many analyses ago.  She said she was hiding among men.

I don’t want to suggest that this reconciliation wasn’t there from the start.  It’s obvious that Classic Who is using Carl Jung’s symbolism of integrating opposites (male/female) from the very 1st Doctor.  However, the 7th Doctor’s stories really show where the Doctor’s arc was heading, at least in a broad sense.

The Doctor and the Master By extension of Missy being a Shadow of the Doctor, the Master, too, is a Shadow of the Doctor, so they are 2 sides of the same coin.  The Master mirrors King Hydroflax in cruelty, destruction, and death.  In the finale, the Doctor said to the Master:

DOCTOR: Well, let's see how I do. Your Tardis got stuck. You killed a lot of people, took over the city, lived like a king until they rebelled against your cruelty. And ever since then you've been hiding out, probably in disguise, because everybody knows your stupid round face.

The Doctor even says the Master lived like a king, a reference to King Hydroflax.  Also, the Master mirrors the Monks in many ways, some of which we looked at in “The Lie of the Land” analysis.  In fact, the Monks were in disguise, just like the Master.  Also, we saw in that analysis that the Master was possessing the Doctor, which explains the maniacal laughter and other oddities.  Therefore, the Master was in disguise there, too, so Razor’s mask in the first part of the finale is a clever externalization of the other disguises.

Since the Doctor and Master are 2 sides of the same coin, the Master represents the Doctor’s psychopathic side.  This actually gels with the notion that the Master is the War Doctor, which we looked at in Chapter 19: “The Rescue Plan.” 

Because DW wouldn’t want to show us that the Doctor stabbed the Master, Missy took on that role. However, she symbolized not just trying to kill her past, but also the Doctor trying to kill it.

In the Next Chapter

Next, we’ll continue our examination of the characters and what they tell us about the Doctor.

Read next chapter ->

[jeparlelibremente]

Demian (Hesse)

“There was the world of my parents’ house, or rather, it was even more circumscribed and embraced only by my parents themselves. This world was familiar to me in almost every aspect - it meant mother and father, love and severity, model behaviour and school...”

“The other world, however, also began in the middle of our own house and was completely different; it smelt different, spoke a different language, made different claims and promises. This second world was peopled with servant girls and workmen, ghost stories and scandalous rumours, a gay tide of monstrous, intriguing, frightful, mysterious things; it included the slaughter house and the prison, drunken and scolding women, cows in labour, foundered horses, tales of housebreaking, murder and suicide...”

Spoiler alert for the book in question

The dichotomy of Hesse’s narrator runs through the novel with singular accuracy; we are reminded, again and again of these two worlds that exist only as his own creation - and this is important: the problem is philosophical, existential. Hesse virtually gives this up in the prologue chapter, at any rate - analysis and interpretation not even necessary. But it’s crucial to bear this in mind, because I wanted to talk about why this theme is recurring in Hesse’s work; his books are populated with narrators plagued by internal crisis, who endure an entire lifetime of misery before eventual catharsis and denouement. “Misery” here may imply some tone, but it would be hard to classify them as happy or unhappy, they seem to exist only to deliver a kind of weapons grade ideology of psychoanalytic reflection right into the mind of the reader. And I would be hard pressed to name another writer who can peel back the layers of the human psyche as easily as Hesse. The Nobel Prize in literature has at times been controversial, but few would doubt the place of Hesse in the pantheon of the Western Canon. How many authors have even remotely tried, successfully, to explain the meaning of life? Siddartha isn’t even parable or metaphor, synecdoche or analogy; it is the eponymous character embarking on a quest to determine the meaning of life. And just like Sinclair in Demian, the tale is driven by an existential thirst: something is wrong, this is not enough, there must be more. More what?

In 1930 Freud published Civilisation and Its Discontents and began to tackle a problem that must have taken root in his mind even as he formed the early theories of psychoanalysis: the drives of the id are fundamentally incompatible with the principles of a peaceful civilisation - how does the ego mediate between the id and the super-ego? It’s one of the most unfortunate paradoxes of our species that as math enables us to connect more broadly and more rapidly, many of us are losing the ability connect on any deeply intimate emotional level; we marry the wrong spouses out of anxiety of loneliness, we surround ourselves with acquaintances but struggle to make ourselves understood. We’re screaming in a vacuum and nobody can hear. We suffocate. We suffer needlessly. We turn to Tinder and see profiles of “ENTJ” replacing dialogue and passionate conversation. Don’t get me wrong; online dating profiles only give you so much resolution to work with, and you’re going to need to write something - but so few people seem ever able to progress beyond this point. They attach themselves to someone, anyone, simply because they are there. There may be little attraction, shared interests, chemistry, humour - but - as an object, an abstraction, an idea - this person will do. We have increasing divorce rates and more pictures of our kids and failed relationships on Facebook and Instagram then ever before. We didn’t even have Facebook and Instagram before. People reflexively marry in order to post the relevant pictures to the relevant social media sites and tick the relevant boxes. Then what? The prognosis is poor; misery begets misery, and our children are learning unconsciously to mimic this behaviour. Disaster. And who is to blame for all of this?

Everyone at some point in their lives has to kill their parents. Youthful teenage rebellion is a psychologically fulfilling necessity. You need to individuate - the truth is you’re going to be carrying a lot of baggage (negative connotation not necessarily implied) and you will need to take responsibility for this. Understanding oneself is an extraordinarily difficult thing to do - by the time we have the cognitive faculties to do so, our impulses and instincts, attachments and transferences are so keenly developed that un-rooting them takes considered effort - I know all too well how extremely difficult this process is. Putting your finger on some unconscious instinct is like trying to thread a needle in the dark. Exhausting. Sleep, repeat. People are who are treated really badly by their parents tend to develop problematical personalities; borderline personality disorder has only increased in diagnostic rate; and it is only a description of behaviour, not even a real diagnosis with somatic malfunction to point to! Narcissism is even worse: modern psychiatry has very little to say about our increasing divorce rates and failed relationships. Why, after five years of marriage do you want to stab your husband in the face when he laughs in just that particular way? Take solace: the problem is not your husband, the problem is you. Or perhaps the problem is both of you. Either way, this is not the person you were supposed to spend your life with. People say monogamy is unnatural, but in truth this is an intellectualisation with one goal: to avoid making any concrete decisions. If you don’t make a choice with consequences then what have you risked? And in the perverse interpretation of narcissism, what does your partner choice say about you? The alternative is to frantically pick someone, anyone, and run with it. If it doesn’t work out (it won’t) you can always un-friend them and un-tag all your photos together. It is this invisible fourth wall that is causing your frustrations. Your inability to meld to another persons well-being. I am not anti-social media, I am anti-you not understanding why you repeat the same patterns over and over in despair.

“I was glad my father upbraided me about my muddy shoes. It side-stepped the issue, the graver sin passed unnoticed and I got away with a reproach which I secretly transferred to the other affair. In so doing, a strange new feeling lit up inside me, an unpleasant, ruthless feeling, full of barbs - I felt superior to my father!”

Sinclair knows from the beginning that something is wrong; the opening passages of this essay are taken from Chapter Start. I feel like it’s low hanging-fruit to look at Sinclair’s remarks about his father and then look at Freud and back again; and besides, his mum tries to comfort him after the ordeal with Franz Komer begins, and Sinclair doesn’t really display any Oedipal tendencies -  his refusal to eat the chocolate she brings can be seen as a pattern of positioning himself to move away from his parents. Max Demians’ initial appearance is a convenient way to Deus Ex Machina dear old Franz out of the picture, but by this point it is already too late: Sinclair has tasted the forbidden fruit of knowledge (that Franz Kromer can so easily trick Sinclair should not be lost on the reader: Sinclair’s naivety shines through) Whoops. Also, this is... kind of the titular character. He wasn’t about to slink away. Sinclair and Demian hang out, they talk about stuff in a way that probably only Nietszche would find amusing. Sinclair is semi-infatuated, retreats back to the safety of his parents and sisters (take note that he has no brother, yet attends boys’ schools) and goes back to study. He learns about interpretation, and begins to think deeply about the character of a man. He sympathises with Cain, and not Abel. This is important: it is the first time his intellect has demonstrated the ability to abstract, it lets him reason with symbols: semiotics is the basis for metaphor. “You mean the mark isn’t a literal mark?” Demian says some edgy stuff with one common theme: be true to thyself.

Several years and puberty later, and cue boarding school. Sinclair is going out and getting wasted, his talk is cynical. He is deeply, deeply alone. He knows all the right moves to make socially, but he connects with no one. Grades are bad, and his old friends are trying to distance themselves from him. That’s ok, he’s made a lot of new ones - that he feels nothing for. Uh oh. For a book written in 1919, this is starting to look a lot like... us.

Part 2 soon.

[i-read-good-books]

yoi lotr au

this is from several centuries ago but i think i never made a tumblr post for it and it’s my favourite fic that i’ve written so you know fuck modesty ayy

Title: "The Adventures of Sparkly Elf and Soft Hobbit, Endured With Great Patience by The Bright And Powerful, Best In The Land, Yuri Plisetsky."

Word Count: 4k

Summary:  Critics have always considered "The Adventures of Sparkly Elf and Soft Hobbit, Endured With Great Patience by The Bright And Powerful, Best In The Land, Yuri Plisetsky." one of the most faithful descriptions of Legend Victor Nikiforov, the greatest elven fighter for more than eight centuries. Although it is narrated by Plisetsky as an adolescent, and thus contains strong language and spends more time ridiculizing his travelling companions than giving thoughtful insight into Nikiforov's psyche, it still remains as an essential reading in every scholar that decides to study Nikiforov [...] //

Day 95: Caught Nikiforov writing love poems. Am appalled at bad writing more than anything else. Example: “I really like your dark eyes / and all the other parts of your face. Your butt is the perfect size / and I would love to see you in lace.” Hope the Hobbit cannot read, or am afraid this love story will not have a pleasant ending.

Alternatively: Elf!Yuri talks shit about Elf!Victor and Hobbit!Yuuri in his diary.

Link to ao3: here

Actual fic under the cut:

"The Adventures of Sparkly Elf and Soft Hobbit, Endured With Great Patience by The Bright And Powerful, Best In The Land, Yuri Plisetsky."

Critics have always considered "The Adventures of Sparkly Elf and Soft Hobbit, Endured With Great Patience by The Bright And Powerful, Best In The Land, Yuri Plisetsky." one of the most faithful descriptions of Legend Victor Nikiforov, the greatest elven fighter for more than eight centuries. Although it is narrated by Plisetsky as an adolescent, and thus contains strong language and spends more time ridiculizing his travelling companions than  giving thoughtful insight into Nikiforov's psyche, it still remains as an essential reading in every scholar that decides to study Nikiforov, as Plisestky was his protégé and closest friend. It is also, admittedly, an incredibly honest read, compared to some stories that overglorify Nikiforov and paint him as overworldly. The beginning of his relationship with Yuuri Katsuki, famous hobbit adventurer, is also illustrated in the book.

- Excerpt from "Victor Nikiforov: Legend and Truth", by scholar and famous entertainer Minako Okukawa.

Day -24: Nikiforov barges into my room in the middle of the night, wearing a pink frilly nightdress that I am quite convinced belongs to Mila, and announces, terribly loud, “Yuri! I have found my next adventure!” Proceeds to leave the room immediately, leaving glitter on my floor. My brethren and I have had our sleep disturbed for no conceivable reason. If this happens to be similar to the Human Pleasure Device Incident, will slit Nikiforov’s throat in the night.

Day -23: Nikiforov appears to be convinced that his adventure will be worthwhile. He has promised me he will not request me to undress a human female again. I have politely asked him not to ever mention the Incident again. Might have to invest in more of my daggers, as they have proved to be extremely useful. Nikiforov cheerfully informs me this adventure will involve hobbits. Do not see how this is supposed to encourage me to join him in his mad tourist trips across Middle Earth. Will ask Mila if hobbits are edible. Am unsure if she will know either.

Day -22: Hobbits are not edible, Mila is a terrible tattle tale, and Yakov is considering bringing me to a “place with other elves your age, lad”. If I am found dead come morning, Grandfather, ensure my fellow warriors find a safe place.

Day -21: Nikiforov will not consider my polite request to “leave me the fuck alone”, and continues to bother me at weapons training with plans for his reckless endeavour. He tells me there’s a magic hobbit in the Shire who can attract ancient creatures. Am glad, maybe this hobbit will get devoured before Nikiforov tracks him down. It would be fortunate.

Day -20: The Devil Himself (Yakov, Grandfather, I mention him sparsely, as I rather dislike him. He is too loud and much too tall) has declared he considers the idea of me joining Nikiforov’s wild trips marvelous, instead of repugnant. Do not know if simply stupid or just senile. Will consider murdering him to avoid leaving. Rivendell is not terribly disgusting at this time of year, and my warriors are comfortable here.

Day -19: Got caught trying to sneak into The Devil’s chambers. Mila informs me that “killing is not nice, baby”. Am not a baby. Am nearly 50 years old, you wrench.

Day -17: Neither threats nor pleading have persuaded my instructors. Am supposed to leave in two days’ time to get to the hellhole called “The Shire” to kidnap a prepubescent hobbit and force him to do our bidding. Have informed Nikiforov this sounds remarkably like “sexual harassment”. Nikiforov replies that I should stop reading Mila’s psychology novels. Am offended. I only read them for the plot.

Day -16: Hobbits are apparently smaller than dwarves. Cannot wait to be taller than someone. Am properly excited.

Day -15: Nikiforov apparently packed his whole wardrobe for the journey. Cannot truly say I did not expect this. My warriors hide in my cape, ready to spring on unsuspecting enemies and claw their eyes out. They are not “so cute!” as Nikiforov implies. He is an ignorant, and must be eliminated as soon as possible.

Day -10: Nikiforov has run out of natural glitter. Have never seen someone so utterly devastated. Must make sure to steal the glitter more often back in Rivendell.

Day -5: Nikiforov tries to tell me about the mysterious hobbit we’re supposed to abduct and manipulate. He says I will be happy, because the hobbit is slightly younger than I am in human years. I tell him I will not be happy, because I will be with a hobbit. Nikiforov has nothing to say to that.

Day -3: Arrival at The Shire. It is disgustingly cheerful. Nikiforov tells me to “keep still” until he finds the our target. I tell him to “go fuck yourself”, and proceed to wander around the Shire. Have discovered that hobbits are, in fact, quite shorter than me. They also eat ridiculous amounts of food. I approve of both these facts. Have written down several interesting recipes for Grandfather to make when I am back in Mirkwood.

Day -2: Nikiforov comes back with our kidnapped hobbit. He does not look like much of a magical creature. He is also, indignantly, called “Yuuri”, which amuses NIkiforov to no end, and ignores my attempts at being at peace, alone , insisting that I eat far too little. Am astounded he thinks I consider his opinions about me relevant. Believe the disgusting hobbit and Nikiforov are carrying on an illicit love affair, if their repugnant longing looks are anything to go by. I fear for my virtue.

Day -1: Hobbit: “Well, Victor, I don’t -” Nikiforov: “Did you...did you just call me by my given name?” Hobbit, while an alarming shade of red: “I’m so sorry, please, excuse me -” Nikiforov, the same shade: “No, uh, it’s fine.” I wish for the sweet relief of death.

Day 0:  After a day of making eyes at Nikiforov, like only the blind do, Frighteningly Cheerful Hobbit invites us to sleep at his “hobbit hole” before our journey… I do not know what his “hole” refers to, and do not wish to know. Grandfather...hobbits are such deviants.

Day 1: We set off. Hobbit has forgotten his Pork Cutlet Bowl knife. We return to his “hole” (a type of house in the ground, I was mistaken, Grandfather, although it was painful for the height of the ceiling. Nikiforov, I am happy to say, was hurt much more badly than I was. But he did share a room with the Hobbit, which is a greater punishment than any creature needs) and get it. We set off once more. Nikiforov has forgotten his hairbrush. I throw one of my warriors at him to end his life. Warrior just meows. Am tired of this journey already.

Day 5: Have finally reached Bree. Easily Terrified Hobbit fidgets incessantly and clings to Nikiforov’s arm like a pest. He, disgustingly, seems to enjoy it immensely, smiling besottedly at the creature and making the hobbit get flustered in increasingly obvious ways. Have decided to find some poison in case they act any more smitten around each other. Bought food and blankets for my fellow warriors, although it was of an abysmally low quality. Strangely, miss Rivendell, in a It-was-terrible-but-familiar way. Must make sure to never grow attached to any place again.

Day 12: Hobbit has learnt about elven mealtimes, and is horrified. “How dare you, Victor?” he shouted at Nikiforov today, “Yuri is a child , he must be fed much more than this! I can’t believe you’d be so irresponsible! How many meals does he have a day, huh? Huh?!” Nikiforov, looking terrified and backing up, even though he is almost twice the hobbit’s heights, replied, “Um...three, four times per day?” This is my only source of entertainment, Grandfather. The Hobbit is currently not speaking to him, refusing to even look at him, and treats me like a newborn elf, which offends me greatly. Am glad he has seen the light regarding Nikiforov, although he is completely mistaken. I am not a child, and do not need feeding.

Day 17: ....the Hobbit’s cooking is surprisingly edible. Am fine with being a child for him. Hope Mila never finds out. Must destroy all evidence. Hobbit is elated, and calls me “dear”. Must kill him, too.

Day 18: After reflecting on it for a day, cannot believe hobbits are so advanced in the culinary department. Although they lack many other attributes (like basic intelligence and a sense of common decency), they certainly have a great amount of talent and ingenuity regarding sustenance. Truly remarkable creatures, these hobbits, even if they are inferior to us. They eat seven meals a day, Grandfather. Must market this. Inform the Financial Advisor, Yuri Purrsetsky.

Day 19: As of today, have been attacked by orcs, most of them riding drooling wargs (utterly repulsive), trolls and several unpleasant inebriated humans. Nikiforov is ecstatic that Hobbit attracts them to us. The Hobbit does not look as pleased with the confrontations, and has resumed his desperate clinging to Nikiforov, apparently forgiving him for starving me. I enjoy myself while making clever jokes about how the hobbit should learn to handle Nikiforov’s “sword”, and cackle evilly when he flushes.

Day 35: Mila has sent me a letter. It says: “LOL VICTOR SAYS YOU EAT HOBBIT FOOD YOU FUCKING NERD”.  Nikiforov will die tonight. Am prepared to run from the law.

Day 48: Hobbit insists my brethren are “adorable”. I inform him it is a slight on his part, as they are fierce warriors who could kill him in his sleep. Warrior Dreaded Claw discredits me by purring while the Hobbit pets him. Feel betrayed by my comrades.

Day 50: The Hobbit keeps touching my warriors. Get your hands off them, you filthy mongrel .

Day 53: Nikiforov has joined the warrior shaming, most likely to get points from Hobbit, who is delighted someone supports him.  Nikiforov takes advantage of this by putting his hand on the Hobbit's shoulder and walking him everywhere to "get stuff for your kittens, Yuri!". Hobbit makes a point to coo every single time he sees me with my warriors. Am offended this behaviour is allowed to continue without any repercussions, and consider it a baseless infantilization of my noble and solemn partners. EDIT: Must remember to heat the milk I bought for Sharp Fang, as she is sensitive to cold liquids and too young to be risking her health.

Day 60: The Hobbit Yuuko (AKA The Least Unbearable Hobbit I Have Ever Met) has sent me a letter. It is three feet of parchment long, and she explains in great detail how goats are raised in different climates. Am unsure what she means by this. Will ask Hobbit if this is part of some sick courtship ritual between these creatures.

Day 62: Not As Annoying As Most Hobbits has sent another letter. Apparently, the first one was for somebody else. In my letter, she tells me how to take care of my “luscious, glorious hair, Yuri!” and gives me advice on proper elven fashion. ...do not know which of the two was worse.

Day 73: They have not kissed. They very pointedly do not sleep in the same tent. I can feel the gods’ anger. Cannot deal with the residual traces of sexual tension in the air. Am unable to sleep for fear of them starting to become... intimate while I find myself in deep slumber, ignorant of the horrors happening next to me. Am considering calling the Furry Wizard to take me in, such is my desperation.

Day 80: Fought a dragon. Meh, could’ve been better. Hobbit rewarded us for saving his life by giving us some of its Pork magic dish.

Day 95: Caught Nikiforov writing love poems. Am appalled at bad writing more than anything else. Example: “I really like your dark eyes / and all the other parts of your face. Your butt is the perfect size / and I would love to see you in lace.” Hope the Hobbit cannot read, or am afraid this love story will not have a pleasant ending.

Day 105: The Hobbit has sewn pockets into my Tiger Monster cape to keep my warriors there as we travel. Hobbit is extremely worried for my health and that of my brethren, so I allow him to live one more day. Must use him as blackmail against Nikiforov.

Day 110:  "I wonder about all the eros you can give me." The hobbit thinks this is an intercultural thing, and is blushing in a ridiculous manner. I am concerned about the education received in the Shire. I fear for Nikiforov’s blood pressure. Do not know if I will escape to a safe place before he inevitably jumps the Hobbit.

Day 117: Fifty Shades of Gandalf visits us. He says, “Victor Nikiforov, the greatest fighter in the realm, whose name is feared and revered alike. What is your destiny, what dream are you chasing with this strange ensemble of companions and felines?” Nikiforov tells him some bullshit about becoming his better self and chasing something to challenge himself. Am convinced he thought, “Getting da booty.”

Day 134: Am sitting on a moderately comfortable rock, because this is the luxury a young, outstanding elf can find near the Misty Mountains. The Very Hungry Hungry Hobbit comes up to me. “Yuri,” he says. He is clearly nervous, fidgeting and glancing around us to see if anyone is in the area. I understand this because the Hobbit is incapable of surviving on his own (it is a miracle he has reached his age without being murdered) and I feel for him, the same way I do for small rodents, cockroaches, or Victor Nikiforov. “Yuri,” he says again, while I daydream about squashing him immediately after making him reveal the ‘Most Glorious Katsudon’ recipe, “Do you think Victor likes me?”

I…

I am going back to Mirkwood.

I cannot be expected to stand this. I’m out. Grandfather, I’m coming back.

Day 141: “But, like. Do you think, um, an elf and a hobbit would like, work ? Cause, um, I’m just… very out of my depth? I really appreciate you listening to me, Yuri.” I hate my immortal existence.

Day 158: Yuuko The Most Tolerable Hobbit sends me a portrait of her minuscule hobbit triplets with straw in their head and wearing animal skins, and writes below it, They have a new idol! Am unsure if I should be pleased with this or not. Must write to them about how to improve their fashion skills. Hmmm. On second thought, might be a good idea to have some minions.

Day 173: Nikiforov has decided to teach the Hobbit how to dance, and thinks that the best way for it to go is to educate his worryingly tiny mate in some elven dancing and rites. He has failed to take into account that the Hobbit’s head barely reaches his waist. Watching them flail is the best fun I’ve had in ages.

Day 174: Nikiforov has decided that, since I am only slightly taller than the Hobbit (a fact that I am immensely proud of) we must dance together. Although I thought it terrible and meaningless at first, am now greatly entertained when Nikiforov flinches the moment I put my hands on the Hobbit. Cannot control the urge to smirk. The Hobbit is, of course, completely oblivious.

Day 192: Wake up to the sounds of the Unpleasant Hobbit moaning Victor's name. Proceed to whack them with a stick and scream, yelling profanities at them. Human raiders attack us because of it. I regret nothing.

Day 193: Hobbit is sheepish and refuses to make eye contact with me (good for him), flushing and turning away, giggling, every time That Wretched Elf touches him. Nikiforov, on the other hand, enjoys pulling his undershirt down to show the disgusting marks he left on him. Retreat to eat dinner with my brethren, huffing.

Day 206: “I hope you know that… it won’t change things, that me and Victor are together. I know you two are close, and I don’t want to get in the way of that, Yuri. It would be great if you could come to like me, too. I think you’re a great warrior, and an even better elf.” I fucking hate Hobbits and I do not tear up, no matter what Nikiforov claims. I long for the day I can murder him without repercussions.

Day 218: Nikiforov decides to adopt some rabbits. Do not know if Hobbit will be okay with having children so early into their relationship. My warriors are not unhappy with the development, although Obscure Fur is still on the fence about the bigger one.

Day 219: Hobbit grows a spine and makes Nikiforov release the rabbits. “Victor, they need to be free!” “But you let Yuri keep his kittens!” “They’re his family , Victor, and they are adorable !” Am growing to like the Hobbit more each day. What a pity that he is such an inferior creature.

Day 226: Nevermind. Must remember to always sleep with my whacking stick in hand to avoid a repeat. Will be scarred forever. Did not expect the Hobbit to be this... adventurous . Will stop thinking about the Hobbit in that context.

Day 248: "Yuuri, I...I think you've changed me. I've never felt like this before, never wanted to be with someone else so badly that my heart ached. You're...you're a shooting star across the dark night that is my life, lighting my path." "Uh...yeah, um, me too, Victor." Do not know how hobbits are still alive, if that is their standard reproductive behaviour. Will inform Grandfather not to invest in the hobbit gardening industry, as it might end in the near future because of hobbit shortage. My stick has been graced with another whacking, and Nikiforov coincidentally has another bruise, this time not because of his disgusting deviant tendencies, which are quite unbecoming of an elf of his breeding.

Day 253: I…

Another dragon found us today, while we were travelling. I was not worried, as I have grown used to Nikiforov handling every monstrous creature thrown our way without trouble. The Flamboyant Elf didn’t disappoint this time, of course, but he took longer than usual. Hobbit, in his stupid panic, tried to help. Hobbit...Yuuri (I might call him by his given name, as he might be dead by tomorrow) got injured. I… Saw Nikiforov crying for the first time. Do not want to see it again. Grandfather...have you seen this before? The way an elf fears for their mortal lover? Is this pain the one the stories talk about, woven in the songs? Will Nikiforov, too, die with the Hobbit? ...Will I be left alone?

Day 255: The Hobbit hasn’t woken up. Nikiforov does not leave his side. The ingredients for the past two nights’ dinner are still in the Hobbit’s bag, but I am not hungry. My brethren refuse to eat, as well. That wretched Hobbit should die, as stupid and careless as he is. He will do nothing but bring us grief.

Day 279: After weeks of fever and incessant worrying, the Hobbit is once again healthy.  I tell him it would be a shame if he died before I could torture him to punish him for his misdeeds and insults to my person. He insists on fussing over me, as I am, apparently “too skinny, oh god, did Victor even feed you?”. His desire to take care of me (as if I needed it, the self-centered bastard) must wait, given the fact that Nikiforov hasn’t let go of him for the past twelve hours. Am shocked and repulsed to find that I do not find it as disgusting as I once did. Must be a side effect of living with these deviants.

Day 284: Send poison, Grandfather, I beg of you. My dutiful army of terrifying kittens, it is time to fulfill our destiny and end the suffering in this world. I cannot bear this any longer. Grandfather, you might be disappointed in me if I become a murderer, fleeing the law and taking refuge in the dwarven mountains, but I will not witness the Irritatingly Red Hobbit feeding Victor that Precious Katsudon once more. No more .

Day 290: The Hobbit insists on us visiting the Shire for some time. He says he must give news to his family, and it has been too long since he was home. Nikiforov immediately agreed with the Hobbit and disregarded my protests, because he is whipped. Heard the Hobbit talking about introducing Nikiforov to his family. Am slightly impressed with how manipulative he can be.

Day 302: One of my warriors gave birth to more of our troops last night. Hobbit is delighted, and helps me care of them. I watch him carefully to make sure he does not try to harm them, although I doubt he has enough of a brain to have ulterior motives. Nikiforov enjoys teasing me about them, “Weren’t they supposed to be fearsome warriors who needed no assistance, Yuri?” I retort with, “Weren’t you supposed to be pretty , Nikiforov? People lie.”

Day 305: Nikiforov is still sulking about the comment I made. Hobbit tries to reassure him he is pretty with an endless stream of compliments, and kisses an unnecessary amount of times in my presence. I do my best to ignore them, and fantasize about  tearing them apart limb by limb.

Day 317: Have finally arrived at the Shire, and am quite excited to see Yuuko, The Almost Pleasant Hobbit once more. Perhaps will enjoy my time with my “fans”, the triplets. Have received a letter from Mila. It reads: “Is it true Victor’s banging that Hobbit? Omg, take pictures!”. Did not reply.

Day 319: I take all my nice words about my fans back.Children are demons and I cannot wait to leave the Shire. Why must they exist? When I voiced my complaints to Nikiforov, who looks like an extremely suspiciously happy elf after leaving  Bumbling Fool Hobbit's room in the morning, he cackles very unattractively and says, "But you are a child, Yuri." Grandfather, this is harassment.

Day 321: Have caught a ‘cold’ from the fiendish triplets. I fear for my life. Grandfather, it has been good knowing you. Must say goodbye to my brethren. Wish to die surrounded by them, in proper elvish attire, while Nikiforov’s body burns on a spike.

Day 324: The Hobbit has established himself as my own physician, and pretends to know any knowledge about basic medicine while sharing his observations with an actual medical professional in the Shire. Have made peace with the Hobbit’s overwhelming stupidity. Nikiforov tries to  help, but Hobbit hisses at him and possessively calls me “his patient”. Am overjoyed that this makes the Drama Queen Elf pout.

Day 328: Am feeling much better, and do not think I will die soon. Yuuko brings me pie, which I feel is the least I deserve after her devilish children got me infected.

Day 330: Today, the Bondage Wizard With A Pointy Hat came to the Shire. He informed us that the Hobbit  does not in fact attract any magical creatures at all, and it was all his doing. Therefore, this journey was a road to self-realization (except I somehow got strung along. Funny how it is never wizards that get caught up in “destiny”.). Nikiforov looks slightly annoyed, but is disgustingly happy with the Hobbit. I am not blinded by these trivial matters, and proceed to whack the Bondage Wizard with my stick. Cannot believe I wasted a year of my life on this useless adventure. Will be back soon, Grandfather.

Day 373: Am back in Rivendell. Mila is calling herself “a huge Nikatsuki shipper”, which could possibly be her new cult name. Yakov yells at me, which is normal. Miss the Hobbit’s cooking, if not his presence. Definitely do not miss Nikiforov, not in the slightest.

Day 458: Have received an invitation to the Hobbit and Nikiforov’s wedding. Have advised Mila to bring arsenic in case they engage in intimate activities while in the presence of others. Will consider taking Grandfather with me, so he can inspect the culinary developments in the Shire. Yuuko says the couple is “so adorable, Yuri!”. Poor deluded hobbit.

fin

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 78)

For the etherite the cell was made of, the others in the control room could only guess at what had happened in the dreamscape as they all came to.

But a look at Weiss would easily tell you it wasn’t good.

She clutched her head, groaning in pain, tears suddenly welling up in her eyes as she was caught between the disconnect of what state she had left dreamscape in—a crying, sobbing mess—versus the state her real body was in—calm as can be.

Ruby rose up from the cushion beside her; she shook her head, before she wiped her moist eyes with her sleeve. She looked at Weiss, frowned, and reached out to her.

“Weiss…?”

Weiss slapped her hand away in a panic.

Ruby winced and pulled it back, ice beginning to seep into her skin.

Winter raised her head, her suit’s systems just finished rebooting; she saw Ruby nursing her hand, the frost and the ice pouring from all around Weiss as she scrambled back up on her feet and stepped away from Ruby.

“Weiss…? What’s going on?!”

Ruby ignored her. “Weiss… you believe me, right?” she asked as she slowly, carefully walked after her.

Weiss turned tail and fled, more frost pouring from her whole body, thin sheets of ice forming and spreading out from her feet; she ran into a wall with her palms out, an inch thick layer of ice exploded all over the surface, almost trapping her hands.

Her whole body began to shake. “Abner… take me out of here…!”

Qrow finally came to shook his head, reeling from the dreamer’s honey and the Soul Eater fight beside. He looked at the scene in front of him, at the ice that was the etherite was just keeping from spreading. “The hell did I miss now...?”

“Weiss!” Ruby called out, tears welling in her eyes. “You believe me, don’t you…?!”

Weiss looked at her, saw the hurt, the confusion, the fear on her face. “I… I don’t know, Ruby…!” she cried.

Ruby reached out for her again. “Weiss, please--!”

“I SAID I DON’T KNOW!”

Ruby yelped and jumped back as a wall of icicles erupted around Weiss, the sharp tips dangerously close to her piercing her.

Weiss’ eyes widened in horror, she looked down at her hands, and the rest of body, her skin covered in frost and ice.

Then, a rip in reality opened up beneath her, the world rushing past as she fell through it, back onto the teleporter in the control room.

They all yelped and jumped well back as frost began to pour out Weiss’ body, ice spread out on the floor. She ran past them and out to the halls, freezing the walls, the carpets, and the paintings as she did, her eyes stinging as she felt hot tears pouring down her cheeks, her skin prickling as they froze near instantly.

Weiss slipped on a patch of her own ice, instinctively threw her arms out in front of her; the soft, luxurious carpet turned into another inch thick layer of ice, her palms slid out, and her chin hit the floor.

Crack!

She cried out and whimpered as she curled up into a ball, eyes squeezed and frozen shut, shivering and holding her hands to her chin, feeling the pain ebb away as her nerves went numb from the cold.

She didn’t resist when she felt Penny’s hands wrap around her, warmth seeping into her body as she carried her off to the infirmary.

Because her gauntlet couldn’t hold back her magic anymore, and Abner had to take it back to his Foundry to study and upgrade it, Weiss had to be put inside one of his other, less fortified containment units for dangerous and/or highly radioactive specimens.

He had spared sheets and pillows from the guest rooms to line the floors, and for some semblance of privacy built a curtain in front of the barrier that separated her from the rest of the lab, but there was no making it feel like anything other than what it was:

A prison cell.

She sat on a pillow with her knees pulled to her chest, an enchanted blanket wrapped around her and keeping most of her warm. Her jaw still ached, but the Fae bandage wrapped around it constantly supplied a steady flow of pain-killers as it helped accelerate the healing process.

Her comm-crystal had been removed for fear of permanently damaging it, leaving her with no communication with the world outside, or a means of telling the time. Abner had offered to put up a tablet on a stand between the barrier and the curtain, queue up plenty of entertainment holos, but Weiss told him not to.

She was sure her magic would ice the barrier over and make it impossible to see out, anyway.

She didn’t know how long she stayed there, how long it took for her magic to finally calm down and give the air-vent’s defrosting mechanisms a break, how long she sat in a corner of that frozen prison, indifferent to the frost nipping at the soles of her feet and her butt.

But she did know her seclusion was nothing compared to the aching pain she felt in her chest.

There was a knocking on the barrier. There was a part in the curtains outside, the light from the halls flashed on the ice inside and blinded Weiss for a moment. She was prepared to scowl and make her displeasure clear, until she noticed that exactly the ice was so thick it was nearly impossible to see out.

She could see a familiar silhouette and a pair of reindeer horns, however.

“Weiss...?” Ruby asked, her voice muffled and faint. “Are you okay in there…?”

Weiss looked down at her feet, at the blankets and pillows she was sitting on.

“Weiss?” Ruby knocked on the barrier again. “You asleep in there? ‘Cause if you are, I’ll just wait a while and leave...”

Weiss sighed, watching her frozen breath linger in the air. “What are you doing here, Ruby?” she asked.

“I wanted to ask if you’re okay. Abner says the vitals scanners say you are, but I just wanted to make sure...”

Weiss scowled. “I almost killed you, I’ve just learned that everyone being so supportive of me and my relationship with you was because it’s vital for us to make more miniature clones of you for this ongoing 1,000 year old clean-up job of the huge, realm-threatening disaster zone that is the Viridian Valley, and I almost hurt several of my friends and damaged a good chunk of Abner’s lab because I can’t control my powers, so now I’m stuck in another prison cell until he can upgrade my gauntlet.

“What do you think…?”

Ruby paused. “… Was that the, uh, retori… rhetora… did you actually want me to answer that question or…?” she trailed off.

“...”

“… I’ll just assume you were doing that… look, Weiss: I’m not mad, alright? I’m not surprised you freaked out like that. Most of the Keeper’s mates and especially the ones that didn’t work out also freaked out.

“Dad freaked out really bad, and it was a pretty big reason he decided to try a relationship with Aunt Raven instead.”

Weiss sighed. “Is that how the Council always tried to find mates for Keepers, Ruby? You keep them in the Bastion, give them enough time to get attached, before you reveal the secret to them when they’re high on hormones and least likely to say ‘No thanks, I’ll go see what my other options are’...?”

“Well, no, that’s not how it works. Like, at all.”

Weiss scowled. “Then how does it work, Ruby? Please, enlighten me! Expand my knowledge of how forces beyond my control and the authority figures in my life are once more emotionally terrorizing and manipulating me for their own self-serving purposes!”

“… I’m sorry, what was that you just sad…?”

“TELL ME HOW OTHER PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO FUCK ME OVER THIS TIME, YOU DOLT!”

“Oh! Well, the Council doesn’t actually do any of the picking; it’s not like, you know, every time we capture a human and don’t try to release them back ASAP, there’s this committee that goes and tests how badass or how powerful they are, and think to themselves, ‘Oh, it looks like this human/hybrid will probably make a Keeper baby!’

“The Keepers and their mates just kind of… you know... happen!”

“How so ‘happen’…?”

“Did you know that dad met mom at the Eve of the Ether fair at Candela, way, WAAAY back…?”

“He told me, yes.”

“And did he tell you about how he was trying to break the record for a test-your-strength game?”

“Yes. I’m assuming that’s why she made her move: she saw the numbers, thought this was a very strong human, right...?”

Ruby paused, before she laughed, and laughed hard, so much Weiss could hear her horns banging against the barrier when she doubled over.

Weiss scowled. “What’s so funny?!”

Ruby laughed for a few more seconds, before she stopped. “Weiss… he didn’t tell you what he looked like then, did he?”

Weiss paused. “… He wasn’t always that strong...?”

“You look at a ‘Then’ and ‘Now’ photo of him, you’d think that ‘Now’ was just ‘Then’s’ bigger, stronger, buffer older brother than the same person after a few years!

“He was a poor kid from Valentino, Weiss; most of his meals were nutriblocks and vita drinks, and he fueled his strength training with protein paste—the batches that they were giving away or throwing out because they came came out tasting even funnier than usual.”

Weiss winced, remembering the awful taste of nutriblocks when she’d made the ill-fated decision to try one so many years ago.

“The only exercise he got was lifting boxes for the people that couldn’t afford drones and were willing to break the law and pay poor kids way below minimum wage, getting into fights with others, and filling up old bottles with water for dumbbells.

“He did win a lot of his fights, but that was only because he could last long enough for the other guys to get so tired he could push them really hard and they’d still fall flat on their asses!”

Weiss blinked. “So why did he make that bet…?”

“Because he was desperate, and the guy at the test-your-strength game was a dick who was sure he couldn’t break the record. He didn’t even come close his first and second try, and it looked like he was about to fail at his third and his last, too…”

“So what did he do?”

“He stalled. Tried to psyche himself up, prayed to Piper, did some last-minute push-ups. None of these actually helped, but it did waste enough time that Aunt Raven got fed up and told him to get on with it already—mom REALLY wanted to try to break the record, too, and Uncle Qrow REALLY wanted that beer she promised him.

“Dad was about to do it, then, he got the idea to give them his last shot, said he’d pay for their own game if they couldn’t break it either.”

“Which he couldn’t, because he had bet his last Urochs...” Weiss muttered.

Ruby nodded. “Oh yeah! He was hoping that Uncle Qrow would do it, but the guy running the Test-Your-Strength game caught onto him so he gave the hammer to the person he thought was even less likely to break the record than dad.”

Weiss smiled. “Which would be Summer, a Keeper of the Grove.”

She could feel Ruby smile, despite the ice still covering the glass. “Mom broke the machine. The guy was in such shock, he gave them the money without a second thought, and by the time he snapped out of it dad was already buying Uncle Qrow that beer he really wanted at a bar ten blocks away.”

Weiss chuckled, before she paused. “… Why did she help him…?”

“Because, she saw that he was someone in need, and that she could help him out. Plus, she could get a free chance at the Test-Your-Strength game, so it wasn’t like she wasn’t getting what she wanted in the first place!

“You know, kind of like that night when you first went into the Valley, except I was looking for a way to stop even more of these expeditions without having to kill anyone.”

Weiss frowned. “So that’s what I was... a means to protect the Valley.”

“And someone that didn’t deserve to get roped into this messy business! I knew just from the chatter on the comms that you weren’t some foreman or a rich tycoon who wanted to oversee their latest project in person…

“… You were just a girl like me, probably out looking for adventure and excitement.”

Weiss looked down. “… I was actually trying to escape my father... find a new life somewhere else, where I could be free to decide what I wanted to do, without someone else trying to control me, dictate how I was supposed to live my life.

“I thought I’d found that here in the Valley… but in hindsight, I probably should have known better.”

There was silence on the other end for a long while.

“… You don’t have to be my girlfriend, you know? We could… you know… break up. It’s… it’s not like you’re the only badass human or mostly human hybrid in the realm, right…? Besides, what was that saying you humans have? About when you love someone…?”

“’If you love someone, let them go. If they come back to you, they’re yours. If they don’t, they never were.’”

“… Yeah. That, thanks...” Ruby paused. “… I guess… I guess this is my letting you go, Weiss. And whatever happens—whatever you do—I’ll… well I’ll try to be fine with it, like mom was with dad...”

Weiss felt tears well in her eyes. “Why…?”

“Because I love you, Weiss. And that’s what you do you love someone, right...?”

“No!” Weiss shouted, pouring down her cheeks. “Why do you love me, you dolt?! What do you even see in me?! Haven’t I already proven to you several times over that I am a literal ticking time bomb of emotions and personal issues waiting explode and possibly kill you with my freaky ice magic?!”

Weiss sobbed, her voice trembling as she whispered, “Why…?”

There was only the quiet, almost unnoticeable hum of the air vent for a long while.

“… You have that something, Weiss—what wasn’t there with all the others. I don’t know what that something is, or if it’s a bunch of somethings… but I just know that you have it.”

Weiss sniffed, stared at the silhouette of Ruby standing outside her cell, before hung her head, wrapped her blanket around it.

“… I need to go, Weiss...” Ruby muttered. “It’s late, I’m tired, and the hunts are going to start again soon since the red alert’s over and we definitely won’t be having a Soul Eater attack until the start of the Flood, at least...”

“So soon...?”

Ruby nodded. “We can’t stay at home, watch the news, and panic for weeks or months like you humans do, Weiss. Besides, it’s not like we Fae don’t have our very lives threatened every day...”

Weiss sighed. “I suppose so...”

“Do you want me to stay for longer?”

Weiss thought about it. “No. You go get some sleep, Ruby—the last two nights have been crazy...”

“Okay. I will. Good night, Weiss...”

“… Good night, Ruby.”

Silence. Ruby didn’t move.

“Hey Weiss…?”

“… Yes…?”

“Do you still love me…?”

“I… I don’t know, Ruby. I don’t know if I can love you, knowing I’m going to be part of… whatever this Valley actually is, whatever’s lurking in it that makes all of us—human or Fae—need you Keepers around.”

“… Do you want to try…?”

“...”

“You can sleep with dad at the cabins, and I’m sure Yang won’t mind switching places with you. We could go on dates together—you know, go out to eat together, watch some holos, or we could just make-out for a while, if that’s what you’d like!”

Weiss blushed. “… Ask me again in the morning, Ruby… it’s… it’s been a really long night...”

“Okay. I understand. No rush, alright? I’ll wait for however long it takes.”

Weiss frowned. “That’s a bold claim to make, Ruby.”

Ruby chuckled. “Dad dated Aunt Raven for several years, had Yang, then went through an ugly divorce before he changed his mind about becoming a Keeper’s mate. Waiting for the people we love to figure things out and become okay with the idea of a relationship with a Keeper is nothing new to any of us, stretching right back to Gabija.”

Weiss frowned. “And if I decide not to try, and if I find I’m happy with someone else, or if I do and we don’t work out?”

“Then we ‘never were,’ and I should go find someone else! That was what mom did, after dad told her he was going to become Aunt Raven’s mate as she was for sure pregnant with Yang.”

“...”

“So, is there anything I can do for you before I leave? For real, this time.”

Weiss thought about it. “No, nothing, thanks.”

“Okay. Goodbye, Weiss.”

Weiss peered out of her blankets, watched Ruby’s silhouette walk away to the side and out the exit of the specimen containment wing.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, even with the aching pain in her chest having grown worse in the meanwhile...

[strangcrdoctor]

へ(゜∇、°)へ We’ve been fighting for three hours and I’ve never hated you more sex (snickers evily)

Human languages were fascinating. They were case studies in disillusionment - the perpetual torture of meaning being separate from reality being separate from the word. It was true of all of them, and the many ways in which they articulated and interpreted their small view of the grand old universe were oh so entertaining. Twisting the humans’ words against them was so simple when there were so many of them to use, and when the panoply of human weaknesses was as vast as the stars themselves, there was no shortage of avenues to pursue.

It spoke to the importance and power of these strange constructs when one of the greatest titans ever to exist, an outright icon of tyrannical force, chose to seek out and employ a master in the art of words. 

Or perhaps, more specifically the art of warring with words.

On Earth especially, wars had been staged for far less. They had in the history of humanity been waged for resources, greed, outright lies. But the tools that accomplished these grand crusades had not been weapons, but agendas. Ideas and ideologies put into words and used to convince the masses into acts of the greatest violence.

Maw liked that the humans, the backward, tiny race that they were, had annals devoted to the art of war. And he liked even more the poetry of these volumes being locked into words.

Which was not to say that he liked humans. They were most often shallow, pithy creatures to be sure. Observing them felt to him like documenting the behaviors of lesser forms of life. Less so in direct comparison to himself than as to what he had seen out there in the universe. Humans rarely held the capacity to surprise or impress him, though he made it a point to know how to access them like he did for so many others. Access among humans was an easy thing to garner if one was willing to kill to get it, and Maw held no qualms over exterminating these tiny creatures.

Save perhaps one - one whom he could and likely should have killed many times over. It was hardly out of sentiment or attachment for the man himself that his hand was stayed. It wasn’t even because the man had posed a relative challenge. What kept him coming back, teasing that boundary which hemmed in the outer limits of his abilities, kept him flirting with disaster and the ruination of that one spare human, was inspiration.

Stephen Strange was the only human Maw would ever credit with being inspiring, and it was only because he was so much more to Maw’s own life experience than his humanity or selfhood could encompass. Interpersonal connection had nothing at all to do with it, save for perhaps so far it insured the control he held over Strange. Instead it was Strange’s place within Maw’s own crusade which brooked him so much leave - which allowed him to still be alive if not irrevocably damaged for the experience of having him under his skin.

For Maw was well aware the hatred he inspired. When he had first dug his claws into Strange it had been a struggle to domineer his mind, which was a not inconsiderable champion of reason and insight by human standards. But reason and insight, wisdom and logic, were simple things to maintain in the cold abstraction of higher thought. When it came to the body, the heart, those untenable things that were life and soul, higher thought was feeble armor. Higher thought was easy to fumble, if one could trip it up with the undeniable truth that not everything in the universe was fair or made sense. These little infractions reminded that the control empirical thought offered was false, and a shallow high which only temporarily diffused much deeper concerns.

Such infractions were where he made his mark, and where he had finally managed to corner the sorcerer’s weakness.

Because it hadn’t taken long to tap just the right nerve. And Strange did have so many nerves to choose from. But they all fed back into a fundamental anxiety which was rooted to the core of the man himself, and therefore creeped its way into all of his superficial issues: the desperation felt at a long-standing understanding, but attempted ignorance of, how little control one had or ever could have in the mortal life. Even with the power of the universe at his fingertips, the knowledge that there were still some things which could not be changed bothered Strange.

Inevitability of any sort could singlehandedly draw him into a rage, and Maw was keen to employ that knowledge to his advantage. Both before and in the instance that had played out that evening, strategizing with that knowledge in hand had led to brilliant results.

As Maw saw it, anger fed into fear, and fear made the souls of men penetrable. And in having made Strange angry, in having exposed his fears, his soul had nowhere left to hide.

The sex, well. That was just salt in the wound. Maw was the twisted sort that did so enjoy the games, in sewing dragon’s teeth - Earth languages did have such colorful turns of phrase for the disasters which constantly plagued their tiny existences - and so the sex was just another hook to dig in so as to insure his control.

Sex in itself was much more akin to chess than humans gave it credit for. For them it was insert tab A into slot B, fuck, repeat. If they were lucky they might even have a chemical attraction to the person they were dabbling with, and if they were especially disillusioned they believed that there was love in it. The simple fact of the matter was that sex was never selfless enough to peaceably encompass that messy, infantile construct humans called love. Sex always contained just enough selfishness to taint it, or in the least to allow it to become tainted over time.

Walking in with that expectation of it, he found, opened up vastly more opportunities for it to be useful. He knew that even as powerful of a mortal as he was, Strange had been enculturated by the propaganda that sex was not a tool.

Which made it all the easier to use it against him, Maw had postulated. A theory which he now had categorical proof of.

It had been proven in the way Stephen had handled the proposition. Insofar, of course, as Maw had even given him a choice. While not time immemorial, it had been long enough that a lack of breakthrough, a lack of progress or perhaps even a lack of avoidance, had begun to rankle the sorcerer deeply. The danger of that powerful mind being left to its own inferencing was one he had deemed to allow on the bet that something would come of it which could be used in his favor.

What he’d found, eventually, was that same buttons which he had employed with Strange for so long: the man was exhausted by his existence, vastly under-appreciated, and desperate to please. In this particular circumstance, Maw had elected to employ a tool he used only sparingly so as to maintain its potency. And while Strange was in fact no stranger to sexual dalliances, he was almost completely naive of the effect that positive reinforcement, especially so closely on the heels of the risk of profound perturbation, could have on the psyche. Quite likely because positive reinforcement was something which he did not get often enough to spare him from its novelty.

It was one of many holes in his armor which Maw was in an abstract way grateful for, especially because they led to such elegant developments.

The elegance was not, however, to be found in the human body he had made use of that evening, which he acknowledged even as he lingered in its vicinity. Strange slept tensely, his shoulders drawn in and his expression pinched and kept his tender, broken hands close to his chest both to ward off contact and to shelter his cracked little heart. He slept as if he were bracing for the disapproval which would come in the morning, for the inevitable disappointment his actions, which were so often expressions of the desperate loneliness he felt, seemed to inspire. But Maw was far from disappointed.

Well, perhaps he wasn’t, but not in Stephen. He was disappointed in how easily the world had let this golden opportunity slip through its fingers. Because the fact was that if Stephen had a network of support, if he were well-integrated and cared for, chances were that his more immediate weaknesses would have been unaccessible, or in the least, less vulnerable to being preyed upon.

But the world, all the people he saved and the heroes he helped, had missed out on the chance they might have had to protect him. People presumed that the Sorcerer Supreme was an independently secure resource - one that didn’t need safeguarding because more so than even some of the other heroes, he was the protector. Their folly was that they didn’t know him well enough, didn’t know enough about his position or his personality. It could have been so easy for all of them to collectively spare him the small courtesies he would have needed in order to remain strong. Stronger perhaps than Maw could have handled without needing to kill him. But they had fallen down on the job, and it was to their ruin in the end for having done so.

Yet still, if there was one thing which he felt he could rely upon in any circumstance, it was the fragility of Stephen’s faith in himself. His ego, which had been warped so badly by his experiences so as to oscillate between hubris, humor, and heartlessness, could not abide with having to ask for basic human courtesies like companionship and protection. Those, to his poor mind, were privileges to be earned, and ones which he did not have the right to ask for given the importance of his independence. The weight of his title left him trapped like Atlas, or perhaps more like Sisyphus, struggling between his duty to his task and the belief that he was not strong enough to have been trusted with it at all.

Fundamentally, Stephen Strange’s soul was weary. And he hid it behind the fear of what would happen if he were not there to do his job, and masked that yet behind his anger toward himself for not being able to go it alone.

The man was ripe with the potential to be manipulated, and it was by sheer force of his own will that so very few other humans had ever managed to do it. In that regard, stubbornness alone had saved him in the past.

Until, of course, someone as skilled in the craft as he had come along, and not only seen but tapped into that wellspring of potential. To imagine what any human or cause could do with him as malleable as Maw had him now felt shameful, for how messily and wastefully the Earthlings would have undoubtedly used him.

In that way, perhaps, Maw had become somewhat possessive of the thrall. It was why he’d wiped Stephen’s memory - to hoard his death from even Thanos and keep it for his own. To draw out one of his masterpieces so as to test even his own limits, and the limits of his craft.

Because the bruises he’d left on the man, the bruises Stephen had let him leave, were nothing short of art. They were the beginning of the end - the block of stone out of which he would make his Pietà, the final work which he would make Stephen into. And though that ambition was great, he knew now that the finished work was not out of his grasp to accomplish.

For now, he would savor in the process. For the journey, as the humans so often and emptily said, really was its own reward.

He settled a long hand over the man’s navel. That in and of itself was an interesting word - and English interesting for being a bastard child of so many languages - traceable down to the archaic term for a shield boss. The navel of a man was counterpoint to his heart: one was the origin of his life, the other of his life force. But the heart was such a heavy organ, and the navel such a tender and personal point. It was the point at which a man could be most reliably moved, his bodily center of gravity. It was also physically one of the weakest points in the abdomen. 

It was an area full of connotation - and he a master at exploiting connotation, and like all other things, this too he could weigh in his hand to use against Strange. To move him even in sleep in the direction he wanted. The human psyche was a complex but brittle thing, and there were small factors like touch which it absorbed so raptly it could scarcely stop itself. It was what made sex such a potent implement, a means of psychic driving so subtle its effectiveness was almost impossible to divert.

Strange only stirred slightly at the touch, and for a while longer he would stir for no Earthly reason. Maw had instructed him to sleep while the man lingered in the post-coital haze, and so he would. But more than any other Maw knew the importance of how susceptible the subconscious was during sleep, knew that the metaphorical knife he had wedged in the other man, which Strange himself could observe but neither feel nor remove, could be twisted in even deeper with the use of these quiet opportunities. Each moment which was utilized to that end was one more careful chip moving toward the perfection his sculpture.

“You did so well for me,” he crooned, leaning his presence and weight over the other man as he whispered in his ear. He’d discovered early on that Stephen was somewhat of a claustrophobic - hated being held or tied down because of how many times those experiences had nearly killed him. It was a button which Maw had pressed often, that domination over his personal space. It was one he had used even earlier, but that night for the purpose of turning the association of that entrapment to his benefit. “I’m so very pleased with you.” 

Still, for all his careful tuning, it was fascinating to him to observe how the human reacted. Though at the increased contact his body had stiffened, it unwound in jerky increments, as if his mind were still unsure whether or not to feel relieved by his tone and his presence.

He felt it most under the hand he still had rested on Stephen’s abdomen. The muscles there fluttered, contracting in uncertain subconscious flinches before finally relaxing. The man hardly had an ounce of fat on him, but feeling a body hardened to meet the demands of such a trying task as being Sorcerer Supreme softening because of a few carefully selected words filled him with delight. That delight stemmed from the dark knowledge that he could so easily spill those softened guts carefully coiled in the core of the body beneath his hand. It was a power of closeness few in the universe could understand.

And it was what made him deadly good at his job.

Now, however, was not the time to shed that blood. Stephen’s fragile mortal form had more yet to give, and Maw would have it all before the end. He would do it carefully as he always had - so carefully that whether in apocalyptic circumstances or not, deviating it would prove impossible. 

Maw would simply put him to bed that night, but one day he would indeed put him to death. It was only just, only poetic, for the being that had revealed the fabric of the man’s existence to be stained with uncertainty and doubt to be the one to deliver the final blow. By the time they were finished, Strange would be his crowning achievement: a man made so desperate for resolution that he would embrace death at the hands of the man who had pushed him to such extremes. He would lie down, as he had tonight, in the arms of the being tasked with destroying him, and like now, end the day relieved of his terrible burden.

For the time being, Maw was thoroughly satisfied with leaving the bruises around the man’s throat and the words in his ear. One careful chisel-stroke at a time, those words would be enough to complete his pièce de résistance in the end.

[caterinaprimrose]

The way you write it, it sounds as if you are romanticizing an abusive relationship.

 Oh no, of  course not. That’s awful. Lmao. Abuse is a serious fucking thing, in any manner. Physical, emotional, mental, substance, violence in general is just an entirely scary thing that no one should be subjected to. 

However, this is fiction. 100% disassociation of character and writers. I’ve never written a story like this before, and it’s honestly one of my favorites. Here is why, the dynamic is fabulous. 

I actually got an anon I haven’t answered yet that asks, “Can you give us an ooc analysis of Braxton and Caterina?” So I should tie these two things into one! 

This subject has come up several times, and I feel that my readers here on tumblr have an unfair advantage considering I only post major events in the character’s lives. Anyone that roleplays with us actively sees the cpmplexity that Caterina and Braxton have.

First, to understand the relationship you have to understand the characters.

There is no doubt that the relationship is abusive in mental and physical levels. Mostly mental, however. He’s only actually physically harmed her once and it was because she fucked up in the company, so he would of beaten whoever did that. (Not saying it’s okay, just clarifying he wasn’t beating his woman to beat his woman.) 

Caterina and Braxton are almost the same person in all realness. That’s why Braxton doesn’t trust her, because he wouldn’t trust himself. People don’t see that, however, because she’s always got this public image set up, as does he. 

Braxton and his company do less-than-legal work, much like a mob (no secret OOC). Braxton is ambitious, greedy, manipulative, insincere, detached, intelligent, prideful, and vindictive. Every single one of these traits applies to Caterina, too.

However - publically, Braxton is kind, generous, charming, harmless, rich, and has the city’s best interest in heart. 

Publically, Caterina is bubbly, stupid, exceedingly vain, spoiled, arrogant, girly, prim/proper, playful, submissive, flirtatious, kind, etc. Everything a stereotypical rich, snobby woman would be. 

Caterina, real Caterina, has this mentality that society is way behind its time. She hates that everyone blindly follows these morals and laws made up by people who don’t follow them themselves. She sees the structure of society as an idea, some type of leash to control the people. Just because some guy who one day declared himself a leader said so. She thinks that she is enlightened, so she doesn’t have this moral system restricting her, that’s one thing. 

That’s why she’s okay with putting herself into these really terrible situations with bad people. She does something to get something. 

Now, to back up even further and explain where that mentality came from - she has never been independent. Her mother died at a young age (Like fifteen) and so she was taken in by this man whom she fell in love with and emotionally (and even a little physically) harmed her. She ended up killing him (so she thinks) and running in the end. But she didn’t know how to take care of herself without doing dirty work. So she has spent her life from man to man, each more rich and influential than the last.

 She was patronized for it, but coaxed into believing that this is okay by those men. She’s built on manipulation and lies.  She was told that she’s going a lot further than most because she has no bounds holding her back. 

So she spends her life watching out for herself, always keeping herself secure and when one started to falter she had a plan B. Sick, I know. 

Fast-forward, we get to Braxton.

Braxton’s history isn’t fully known - not even to his writer. It’s been slowly revealing itself and piecing together for the writer and readers on this roleplaying journey. 

From what we’ve gathered (mind you, it might not be true but this is what Braxton the character has said ICly), Braxton didn’t like his mother - at all. She always pressed for him to be a businessman. He never played with the other children, he stayed inside and studied. He never learned to share. So he’s almost like this overgrown child with a lot of power which makes him incredibly volatile. 

Caterina and Braxton mixing together makes perfect sense. 

They’re both overgrown children. Not in a dumb way, but in an emotionally unstable way. Not to say that Caterina is insane - she’s not. I hate that escape-goat to just label a woman as insane. No, this is how she is and I can justify it with the experiences the character has gone through and the complex psychological effects. She’s just not a good person. She’s a terrible person in a terrible situation but that’s the situation she thinks is best for her. 

Caterina and Braxton work so well because they feed one another. She feeds into his vanity - he has a huge god-complex and she knows how to really blow that up. So she worships him in order to get the things that she wants. That is security, housing, food, extreme amounts of gold, additional fame (She loves attention. It’s hilarious.), and she hardly has to work for it.  

He also gives her a challenge. There is a constant game between them 

Caterina became infatuated with Braxton over materialistic items. She saw that he’s willing to do anything for his benefit, and she saw that as a sign of strength. She needed someone who had no boundaries, just like her. So when she attached herself to him, naturally he saw this opportunity and took it. 

Her fearless adoration and pending love for him gives him this intense advantage over a very capable, intelligent woman. She, herself, believes that once she can gain Braxton’s full trust he’ll start to love her too and that’s the challenge she’s so obsessed with. 

In a way, Caterina is almost like Braxton’s creation, he broke her of her self-serving attitude and remade her into his own image. If Caterina didn’t see Braxton has worth it, if she had little faith in him, she wouldn’t stay. 

It’s like you’re putting one whirl pool next to another and making the maelstrom. 

So he bends her to his will and delights in watching her strive to please him. When he’s bored, he can play games with Cat and she will always play back - willingly, and with pleasure. He can hurt her and then snatch her back up again with well chosen words and actions. 

He prides in the fact that he’s taken this beautiful, successful, ambitious woman and turned all her plans and mentality towards benefiting him - which, to Caterina, indirectly benefits her. 

She, in both her devotion and her adoration of him, is a mirror to Braxton’s ego. Highly narcissistic, she would provide proof to him of his own genius and brilliance - both in the very fact of her existence and because she fervently believes it herself. Cat is his, body and soul, and that must be immensely gratifying to someone as egotistical as Braxton, especially considering how easily he controls her.

That being said, I do think that Braxton cares for Caterina. Not in any grand, passionate, self-sacrificing or selfless way. Not in a way in which her well being and happiness are important to him. Not in any normal, healthy way. But in his way, and maybe soon, as much as he is capable of.

And eventually her uniqueness in response to him, I believe, will penetrate something very deep and buried within Braxton’s psyche and bring it back to life - a faint glimmer of tenderness consumed by layers of darkness and depravity.

And maybe Caterina is just very delusional in thinking that she can keep digging and breaking herself down, down, down and turning into what he wants so that one day he’ll feel as intensely about her as she is coming to feel about him - but that’s what she believes. 

So when I write these things, these stories, I myself am not romanticizing their abusive relationship - I’m writing it in a manner at which Caterina feels. I’m writing as if she were a real person. The work shows how captivated she is by him because she is captivated by Braxton. She feels romance so to give off that air of romance I write it poetically. 

It’s an artistic choice I make with all of my characters, to use words that give the readers feelings my characters feel - even if it betrays the actual situation. 

So in a way, I would hope that the romanticized writing with an abusive situation would make you uncomfortable because that means I wrote it right and you’re very caring and human. 

If it makes you sick and you don’t enjoy the story, by all means - unfollow. I’ll understand. Not everyone can disassociate their characters and themselves, and especially if you’ve been in a similar experience, if my writing surfaces some sort of bad memory or emotion in you - just unfollow Caterina’s blog. I don’t want anyone to suffer because of this character’s story. 

I have much much more family friendly blogs like @quinn--nadine and @melodyofmercy :) 

This was super long but I feel like I explained it well, I hope that helps!

@braxtonhudson

@thewildercard 

@everythingisbetterwithpirates 

@warlordofruination