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n1kolaiz · 3 years

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"You want to know what death is? I'll tell you. Death is the loss of life. Despite everything doctors like me attempt... a patient's life can still fall through our fingers. You think death lies in the apex of science? Anyone with such little regard for life will die by my hand."

Character Analysis: Yosano Akiko

Age: 25 || Ability: Thou Shalt Not Die

BSD CHAPTER CHAPTER 65-66 SPOILERS

table of contents:

1. Author counterpart.

2. Yosano's history.

3. 'Angel of Death' defined.

4. Yosano and Atsushi.

YOSANO BRAINROT!*(#&!*@#($

1. Author counterpart.

Having been given the “Sho Ho” at birth, Yosano Akiko’s counterpart—the real-life author—was known for her zealous take on both feminism and pacifism.

Side note: Once again, to avoid confusion, I will use the name Sho Ho in reference to the real-life author, and Yosano in reference to the BSD character.

Sho Ho's writings were pretty much out-of-the-ordinary in her time, and despite being suppressed by the social norms of gender hierarchy, she sought to reform society’s view on the cultural perspectives of women and their sexuality (She expressed her love for a woman in one of her poems, but many still argued on whether she identified herself as queer or not.)

"Thou Shalt Not Die," Yosano's ability, is actually named after one of Sho Ho's most famous, controversial poems. She wrote it for her brother, who was a soldier in the war between Russia and Japan (1904-1905). In her poem, she expressed her general distaste for war and how her brother was a part of it.

O my young brother, I cry for you Don't you understand you must not die! You who were born the last of all Command a special store of parents' love

Would parents place a blade in children's hands

Teaching them to murder other men Teaching them to kill and then to die? Have you so learned and grown to twenty-four?

- excerpt from Sho Ho's poem, "Kimi Shinitamou Koto Nakare"

Her words were blunt enough to inflict guilt on her brother's conscience, as she wasn't afraid to express her disapproval over how her brother took part in the typical violent bloodshed and manslaughter of war. Such opinions perturbed the authorities, and her work was eventually banned from the public for a period of time. Later on, it was used as an anti-war statement.

2. Yosano's history.

Now, as for the character in BSD, Yosano is seen to be generally strong-willed, and later on, we see that she is terrifyingly compassionately ambitious in the way she treats her patients. She treasured life itself, and hated the thought of losing a patient.

Yosano had developed her relations with Mori Ougai back in the Great War, when she was just 11 years old. Her ability was a great benefactor in saving lives. Realistically speaking, she was used for her ability to heal injured soldiers and diminish the effect of any casualty acquired.

Initially, she wasn't aware of this, until one of her close friends pointed it out by subtly accusing Mori of manipulating her to participate in the War under the close-to false pretence of 'saving lives.'

As much as her ability did save lives, it also forced soldiers to return to the frontlines and suffer injuries over and over again. The soldiers were never given the opportunity to return to their families because of her ability. This obliged them to carry on in the war without any excuse, inserting them into a vicious cycle they had no escape out of.

Metaphorically speaking, Yosano's hatred for Mori sort of mirrors Sho Ho's disdain for war and fighting, don't you think? The way Kafka materialised Yosano's past was quite interesting because he used chapters 65 and 66 to explain Yosano's dislike for Mori, reflecting how Sho Ho used her poem to explain why she condemned the idea of war and how her brother was part of it.

Before the effect of her ability was fully understood, however, every soldier praised and thanked her for what an angel she was. One of the soldiers she had befriended and gotten close to even kept a tally of the number of times she had saved him. He was the one who gifted her the butterfly hairpin she wore all the time.

The weight of the truth that her ability was a curse rather than a blessing fully dawned on her when her soldier friend ultimately committed suicide, because the fact of being indefinitely trapped in the throes of war agonised him until his spirit gave out. This drove Yosano to loathe her ability, or rather, how it was used.

In the time she participated in the War, Yosano was given the alias 'angel of death' due to the control she retained over the battlefield, but I thought that perhaps Kafka had a reason behind giving her this title, so I did my research.

3. 'Angel of Death' defined.

Side note: I wouldn't want to disrespect any culture or religion, so if my citations are inaccurate and/or disrespectful, do feel free to correct me/let me know! I did research out of pure curiosity, and I don't intend to twist the significance of any of the interpretations.

I had to grow up learning about the basics of religious stuff, so it's kind of nice to study something out of the box, and very much against my father's rigid belief system :D

ARCHANGEL ARIEL

(archangel: an angel of higher rank)

I came across the few characteristics of angels/goddesses and their roles, and the one which really caught my attention was the female archangel, Ariel, the angel of nature.

[ source ]

In Hebrew, the name Ariel means 'altar' or 'lioness of God,' and her role is to heal. In addition to that, she is also recognised as a helper to another one of the seven main archangels, Raphael, whose role is to provide physical and emotional healing, too.

She is the protecter of the environment and the animals therein, and is bestowed with the duty to oversee the order of heavenly bodies as well as earth's natural resources. She assures the sustenance of food, water, shelter, and supplies of human beings, much like how a nurse is to a patient I suppose.

In relation to Yosano, I think this part is pretty self-explanatory, or perhaps this is blown out of proportion HA, so take this as a suggestion rather than a fact, because I'd like to believe that Kafka had a reason for giving Yosano a title as such.

In the past, I've come across the angel of death only to perceive it as a female grim reaper of some sort, so it was pretty cool to find that the word 'angel' and 'death' made up a title of a someone like Ariel, one of the purest forms of humility and compassion.

GREEK GODDESS PANAKEIA

For my beloved (wannabe/or not) students of Greek mythology (much like myself, let's make a cult!), you've probably heard of Panakeia, the goddess of healing. Medicine finds most of its vital significance in Greek history, and in its mythology, Panakeia is actually known for her ability to heal any kind of sickness.

[ source ]

Her name means 'panacea,' which is actually defined as a remedy for all diseases. Terminal diseases and injuries lead to death, right? This would bring us back to Yosano's ability to nullify any injury's effects on a person, keeping them from death itself.

Now, we know that in order for Yosano's ability to work, her patient, or victim, has to be in a near-death condition in order for her treatment to take effect. This can't exactly fit into the description of resurrection, but it can be described as some sort of rebirth.

GREEK GODDESS PERSEPHONE

So another goddess which reminds me of Sho Ho/Yosano, is Persephone, the goddess of spring and rebirth. Before Hades, the god of the underworld, fell in love with Persephone to take her to live with him, Persephone lived a happy life.

Hades, with his nature of darkness and the like, was captivated by how pure Persephone was, and stole her away from her former life to live in an environment which differed sharply from her natural aura of purity.

[ source ]

Remember when Yosano's friend left a note behind before he killed himself? The note said nothing except for, "You are too righteous." Take that as you will, but figuratively speaking, you could say Mori takes the role of Hades in the story, while Yosano can be portrayed as Persephone.

Sho Ho can also be a parallel of Persephone, in that she had to adapt to the realities of war and disharmony, while Persephone had to adapt to the raw darkness of the underworld with Hades.

Sho Ho stood against society's norms and decided to reform it, making her one of the most well-known feministic pacifist in history, while Persephone managed to escape from the underworld to return to her former position, earning the title the 'Bringer of Life,' or the 'Destroyer of Death.'

Furthermore, the way Sho Ho's anti-war poem took its effect later on, reflects the way Persephone restored balance in the world after returning from the underworld.

4. Yosano and Atsushi.

chapter 66; Yosano: "It's my fault that those close to me died... Is there some place where it's okay for me to live?"

chapter 8; Atsushi: "If I have any chance of saving them all, of returning them home safely, would that mean it's okay for me to keep on living?"

I couldn't help but think of Dazai and Atsushi back when I was reading through these panels. Ranpo (my beloved), along with Fukuzawa, accepted Yosano as she was, despite how her ability was a cause of despair and misfortune.

Ranpo looked past her mistakes and the entirety of how dark her past was to welcome her into the Armed Detective Agency. Dazai, on the other hand, knew who Atsushi was and what his ability had made him do before anyone else, and still decided to provide a safe place for Atsushi to find his sense of belonging, journeying with him as he learned to use his ability properly.

For more info about Dazai and Atsushi's dynamic, you can check out the analysis I did for Dazai :D

Atsushi desired to save people to prove his right to live, while Yosano made her wish to achieve the recovery of all her patients the reason for her existence.

Others would prefer to accuse both Yosano and Atsushi of having a saviour complex, but the reason why they pursued to save people with utmost dedication, stems from the nature of what their past was like. You know the saying 'from broken to beautiful?' Yeah, it's something like that.

The way their pasts were written out gave them a desire to change, which was, I daresay, initiated by the people who took them in: Ranpo and Dazai. Their abilities were demonised because of how they were used, but once they broke from their abilities' effect over their lives, they honed their skills to control them for the right cause instead.

In a less cynical point of view, I believe both Yosano and Atsushi stood for what was right, and wanted nothing but to achieve peace and harmony in whatever way they could, even if it meant risking their own lives to save others.

So yeah, that's it for my rants today. Thank you for reading, and if you have anything to add, go ahead! I'm open to discussions ;)

#bsd #bsd atsushi #bsd yosano #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd characters #bsd analysis #literature analysis #bsd abilities #bsd anime #bsd manga #bungo stray dogs atsushi #bungou stray dogs atsushi #bungou stray dogs yosano #bsd dazai #bsd mori #bsd ranpo #character analysis #.daydreams

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asturlavi · 3 years

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oh boy, do i have wonderful beast oda/odazai info for you all since this may just be my favorite chapter in all of beast. it clarified a lot about oda's state in this au, and how sad it truly is, especially with all that dazai has done to ensure that oda's safety is certain

before i start, this was initially intended to be a quirky little twitter thread that’s supposed to be kicked off with a badly drawn doodle of something meme. the thread was supposed to be about how wonderfully dumb odasaku can be and how annoyingly frustrating dazai is in the latest beast chapter... and then it slowly devolved into a crudely written essay about small discoveries i’ve made that most likely haven’t been pointed out before, so i recommend that anyone interested in either oda or odazai to check this out

so i finally got around to reading the new beast chapter and seeing how odasaku constantly devalues himself and finds that he's lesser than the average person is… sad. its been said that him and ranpo are the stars of the ada, every mission trivial with their cooperation, and yet he doesn't see any of that. thinks he struck luck when it came to his entrance exam, which he specifies that it wasn't as a result of his own skills. his inferiority complex is embedded so deep that despite his achievements, he doesn't at all believe he has any worth as a human.

i'm just a tired, ordinary man like you could find anywhere. a third-rate detective, as unexceptional as a fallen cigarette butt on the road.

and his entrance exam was just like dazai's: the azure messenger case, which we all know wasn't at all a walk in the park. one mistake, and it would spell disaster for the city that the ada was trying to protect. no--not just the city, it would also mean the end of the ada as we know it. despite it all, he resolved it much to his own surprise, and it was all thanks to an "unexpected" gift. and that gift? who would it be other than from dazai himself?

beast light novel ch. 3

(also, this is a shaky claim at best but I feel as if oda fully holds the capabilities to solve the case alone, but dazai knew that with odasaku's persistent feelings of self-doubt, along with his lack of some of the vivacity that dazai held to weasel his way through to information, the outcome of success wouldn’t be guaranteed. and so, dazai lent him something to ensure his success)

and yet, oda is blind to see truly how much intellect and skill he possesses. he doesn't realize how integral he was to the quest of the azure messenger, doesn't acknowledge that without him these orphans would have either slipped into a life of crime, gone to a downtrodden orphanage, or simply passed away, and he doesn't know that despite it all, he's one of the purest characters in the story, even with the darkness that will forever cling to him, a reminder of the violence that marred his past.

not to mention that oda, in one way or another, effectively analyzed the current situation that they're stuck in. he noted that if things currently go the way they're going, no matter what akutagawa achieves, him and his sister are doomed. so, oda brilliantly decided to go after the port mafia itself to prepare for this possibility, and it's nothing short of genius. and dazai plays along with this… because it is oda, after all.

and everything dazai did, everything he sacrificed, it was all for oda.

now to the underlying tragedy of this chapter. take a look at this panel:

ever since then, i've been making a living by solving requests that come to the detective agency.

i provide for the orphans

i drink coffee.

i gamble a bit on days off.

at night, i write a novel in the kitchen.

that's my life.

nothing unusual, right? you'd think that odasaku was satisfied with life, since he has everything he had ever wished for. but in all actuality, he still lacks one important thing.

and that's friendship.

his words sounded so… empty. achieving ones dreams is but one aspect of life that brings one gratification, but doesn't necessarily mean it would guarantee lasting happiness. (think of famous actors or celebrities that spiral into depression even after they've achieved their dreams).

in that panel, he says he cares for the orphans, gambles, and writes alone in his spare time, but not a word of spending time with friends… something he had in the root universe, something that was lost to him in this one.

and he says this all with his face blacked out, as if he's somewhat implicitly dissatisfied (while the kid's faces are present, not at all concealed).

with dazai, he found peace in a place where peace is rare to find. They both completely put their guard down with each other around, and dazai can relax his overly speculative mind with oda. and they understood each other, a level of understanding rare to come by. dazai with his dark jokes easily flies past oda's ears because that's what they are, harmless jokes. and oda with his blunt honesty, which dazai cherishes and never prods him for it.

dazai also saw things in oda that oda was blind to. dazai saw a world of beauty in oda, the ray of light beneath a cloudy sky. he saw both intelligence and wisdom, kindness and generosity. and most of all, he trusted oda, despite dazai’s natural inclination to distrust.

and what oda saw in dazai was vulnerability. despite the front that dazai puts, he can be kind, even empathetic, when the situation calls for it. dazai once gave akutagawa a decision to turn his back against dazai’s offer to join the port mafia, when logic points to the fact that he didn't have to, but wanted to.

dazai also consistently gives atsushi words of advice and shows understanding when dazai was under no obligation to, such as atsushi facing the loss of his previous caretaker. dazai gave atsushi genuine advice, not laced with any malice or ill intent. dazai had even left atsushi to grieve alone, fully understanding that atsushi needed to pour his emotions out in private. there’s more than enough instances of dazai showing this side of himself in both the light novels and manga, but it seems to sometimes be brushed aside. even though the main cast of characters always dismissed this side of dazai, oda has always known that this side of dazai was his truest self.

oda and dazai also talked endlessly about trivial things, calling each other daily for two hours for no reason other than that they each enjoy one another's company. it's pure, wholesome love. they had a mutual trust and understanding between one another, which ango, another friend of theirs, severely lacked in his friendship with them.

oda's dream was to write, gone unfulfilled in the root universe, but he died happily knowing that the one he cares for is living in the path of light. dazai's was to find a reason to live, which he found in oda, and continues to use this as motivation long after oda passed.

in beast, dazai's dream was cut short, ultimately leading to his demise at the end. after all, his one reason to live is now robbed from him. however, oda's dreams have become a reality, but can one really say he achieved happiness? he has the orphans, his children, but they will never understand him like dazai had. he has peace, but is it the form of peace he wanted? spending time alone, on things like gambling, while endlessly mulling how he has no one to spend this time with?

and writing, his one true wish that dazai made absolutely sure to make a reality. but was it worth it, at the cost of a friend who brought happiness and reprieve when everyone else failed to?

i thought of this tale as a matter of equivalent exchange, you lose one life in exchange for another. the scales do remain somewhat balanced, but not over a matter of lives. it's over a matter of personal sacrifices, ones only known to us readers.

and i say "somewhat" because in the root universe, dazai remembered oda when he was alive, so well that dazai can recall memories to near perfection. but oda had completely forgotten dazai in beast, chasing after absent memories and deluding himself into thinking his life is perfect, while numbing himself from the aching hole of loneliness that consumes him inside.

also, oda is surely happy spending time with the children, but what about his lonesome hours? who is he going to spend that time with, in a world without dazai, the only person who understood him and his oddities?

ah, and remember this moment in the root universe?

now, take a look at this again. no, look closer

odasaku wasn’t merely gambling for the sake of it, he was gambling on a horse race. and before dazai was arrested in the root universe, he was seen doing just that.

now, why would odasaku do this? he surely doesn’t seem the type to gamble away his money on something as silly as horse races, because what does someone gain while they pour their money into something so senseless?

and the only reason i could arrive to is that dazai must have dragged him along to one. dazai is a port mafia executive, with more money than he knows what to do with and a boatload of depression. money probably disinterests him as much as life does, and he used gambling to kill two birds with one stone: ridding of money he doesn’t need, and distracting him from his boredom (and depression).

and it doesn’t end there. remember when dazai in dead apple had visited bar lupin to pay his regards to odasaku, while reliving a pleasant memory dazai had with him? and he did this because he was preparing for a quest that may result in with the loss of his life, psyching himself up for what’s to come. this is probably bordering on speculation, but i believe that that’s precisely what he did once again in the horse races. dazai paid a visit to a place that oda and him had frequented, to prepare for another dangerous quest.

also, note that immediately after exiting bar lupin in dead apple, dazai was confronted by ango, which kicked off the start of dazai’s plans. a similar thing happens in the manga, dazai spending time in a place that he and oda had gone to, this time the horse races, and his plan whirls into motion as jono arrests him. i think these similarities are deliberate, in order to establish their significance to dazai and oda.

this long winded explanation’s purpose was only for me to go back to this panel once again, and say that everything oda spoke about doing, from spending time with his kids, to brewing coffee, to betting on horse races, and to writing in the kitchen, were all moments he had with dazai.

and see that he has an extra chair that sits unused in the kitchen? at first, i thought it was there for the sake of being there. then, it slowly dawned on me that odasaku and dazai had noted in the dark era light novel that they made a habit of visiting each other, so it wouldn’t be illogical to conclude that it was a chair meant for dazai. a place where he can spend some private moments together with oda underneath the dimly lit kitchen, drinking in the scent of odasaku’s coffee and talking about things that distracts them from their troubles while odasaku whittles away at his manuscript.

and one last thing before i end this out of sheer laziness, take a look at this photograph of oda from the final moments of the beast light novel.

as oda stated in the manga and light novel, he worked on his manuscript alone in the kitchen... but in the photograph, he wasn’t alone. he’s posing for a picture. relaxed, poised, as if entertaining the one taking the photo. and besides, wasn’t it dazai who insisted on taking photographs in bar lupin with ango and oda in dark era? he must have done the same in that very moment in the beast universe, but this time in anticipation of oda forgetting him.

in the end, it seems oda and dazai left each other in similar ways, foolishly believing they've sacrificed their lives for each other to better the other's life, but all they did was create worlds where the feeling of happiness will be lost to both respective parties, while also resigning each other to a life of loneliness.

they've forgotten about their one happiness that stems from just being around one another, listening to the soothing tune of jazz playing softly as they talk into the night, the world lost to them as they're absorbed in one another's presence.

it seems like their story is a tragedy of what happens when you love someone too much, to the point that you delude yourself into thinking you're but a tool for their happiness, and with you gone, nothing will change.

but things did change, didn't they?

#odazai #bsd #bungo stray dogs #oda sakunosuke #osamu dazai #bsd beast #i'm never doing this again

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insomniacowl · 3 years

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Neon genesis Evangelion Analysis Chapter 23: Katsuragi Misato Part 2 Dear Shinji, this is my will.

Misato: So you don't want to meet your dad?

Just like me

Let us start from the beginning. The scene in the first episode where Misato drives down to meet Shinji. Her first words to him were, "Sorry, I made you wait." This, I believe, is the first of many times their interactions will revolve around the theme of "Waiting." The line also contrasts with her final words to Shinji, "Let's continue when you get back."

Her cross is first brought to our attention through Shinji's eyes as Misato shields him from the blast of explosions from the Self-defense force's missiles used against Sakiel. Then, on their way to NERV, Shinji confides to her about his feelings towards Gendou. Misato empathizes, saying, "You're just like me," pointing to their commonalities.

She later consoles Shinji as he refuses to pilot Eva-01 and tells him to "Not run away from himself." At this point, she was already seeing herself reflected in Shinji, and those words were meant for herself as well.

After this point, Misato constantly finds herself reflected on Shinji. While it has a positive influence, like in episode 1, it also frequently caused Shinji to hurt. One criticism viewers lay on Misato is the sarcastic tone she sometimes takes when talking to Shinji about his actions. "You don't want to pilot the Eva? With that kind of determination…. What a pain!", Is one of the harsh words directed at Shinji. Even in episode 12, her cold reaction to Shinji's contemplation regarding Asuka is also, in its own way, infamous.

Yet, if we consider that she sees a lot of herself in Shinji, those lines come to represent her self-contempt rather than how she sees the fourteen-year-old. Misato was not really in the position to take care of teenagers if we consider her character flaws.

While such actions are worthy of criticism, there is room to empathize considering the traumas she had to endure, which has shaped the kind of "Adult" she became. As a young child, she was in the center of the Second Impact, and the psychological impact has led to her being mute for a few years. However, she seemed to have eventually recovered. Perhaps to compensate, we are told that she became an overly happy and talkative person. On top of this, she has studied hard and become a student at the Second-Tokyo city University. She met and began living with Kaji in the year 2005, at the age of twenty. According to Ritsuko, she even had a week-long sex marathon with Kaji, where neither of them left the house during the period.

To elaborate on her constant need for physical pleasure, we can start from the glimpse of her inner monologue we get during the instrumentality. We learn that it was one of the few things she had control over that made her feel alive when she was intimate with Kaji. Yet she breaks up with him because She saw a glimpse of her father reflected in him, although that was what got her attracted to him in the first place.

What are you embarrassed about? You wanted the man you love to see you for who you were. NO!

I wonder about that. You wanted your father to see you for who you were. That's not true!

We can identify Misato as struggling with Electra Complex (Oedipus Complex for girls) regarding how she views her father. She then attempted to quench the thirst for affection her father failed to provide her from a different man who felt similar to him. This can be observed through Kaji and Shinji. Two people sharing the same character flaws as her father (Workaholic and being bad at human interaction) being the two people she opened herself up to (Mentally, emotionally, and sexually). Misato was hoping to compensate for the loss she suffered and recover from her past trauma using her relationship with these two.

Consciously or unconsciously, she likely understood this side of herself. She felt disgusted by herself, leading to her breaking up with Kaji while punishing and labeling herself as someone "Undeserving to love." While her relationship with Kaji was open and overtly described in the series, some of you might wonder how Shinji is involved in this process. Especially regarding the sexual aspect of this analysis.

We can definitively say that Misato and Shinji do not share a simple Guardianship relation. But the discussion about Misato and Shinji can wait for now. First, let us discuss Hyuga Makoto.

Hyuga is seen approaching Misato as more than just a direct superior at work (Especially after Kaji's death). "Only if it's with you (I don't mind dying from the base self-destructing)." It is a telling line that highlights Hyuga's feelings that he begins acting on in the latter part of the series. Turning him into a more dimensional character. While Misato seems to be aware of such advances, we never see her acting on it. Neither accepting nor rejecting him outright. Since this is at the low point of her emotional journey, Misato would have been okay with anyone. Thus, it makes us wonder if there could have been more intimacy between the two off-screen. I'd argue that Hyuga died a virgin (or at least that there was no sexual relationship between the two) based on Hyuga's fantasy during the instrumentality.

To bring our discussion back to Kaji, we are shown that he was the first man she trusted and gave her first intimacy to. At the same time, she was someone Kaji was able to trust and be vulnerable with. We never see either of them refer to each other by their names. While the reason is not depicted, we can make an educated guess and say that it stems from their determination to interact professionally. Without letting their (embarrassing) past hinder their work.

But perhaps it was destined that this guise was not meant to be. In episode 15, we see the two confide in each other. Misato laments about her father and her regret of not being a good lover for Kaji. Kaji embraces and accepts her of it. The last time they ever shared a bed, Kaji gives her his final present. His death led to Misato shedding many tears, but the present helped guide her to her next step. Before this point, we see her constantly drinking her favorite beer, but never after this event. All we see her drink from then on is canned coffee, Kaji's favorite drink. And now, two peoples' worth of "Will" lived on inside her. One from her father, the other from Kaji.

Now, let's discuss the last "Male" in her life: Shinji. As mentioned earlier, Shinji was more than just a child under her care. Shinji's first introduction of Misato was through her photo that she sent him. It is a revealing photo of herself with arrows drawing attention to her breast. As a side note, the actual words in this image were written by Anno himself, and the lipstick mark was from one of the female Gainax staff.

From the photo, we can see that Misato wants Shinji to see her as more than a potential caretaker (as ethically should), but as someone of opposite gender and a "potential" love interest. Although, of course, we can brush it aside as a part of her quirky and fun-loving attitude. But the problem arises in the latter part of the series where this attitude crosses the line. The suspicion is confirmed in the official pamphlet's character introduction describing her as Shinji's family + co-worker + superior + "lover."

Misato: Shinji, I'm going in. This is about all I can do for you right now.

Shinji: No!

The scene central to this discussion happens in episode 23 when she takes her seat next to Shinji, who is grieving the death of Second Rei on his bed. Although surface-level reading is, Misato wants to hold his hands to comfort him. If that is the case, the line "This is all I can do for you right now" is unnecessary. And not only that, but Shinji's rejection of this advance is also too strong to justify the conclusion of the surface level analysis. If anything comes to mind about an act that two grown-up adults do on the bed is "Sex."

Even if we try to give the benefit of the doubt and stay at the surface-level conclusion that is psychologically comfortable, this is Evangelion. It refuses psychological comfort. The film book released by Gainax has a note about this scene that says, "Misato is attempting to give Shinji her body." This is even alluded to in the shot right before the line, the head of the chair being where Shinji's Penis would be, and Misato coming to sit right on top of it.

Throughout the series, both Misato and Asuka approach Shinji as the "Other sex." it's natural for Asuka since they are the same age. However, it is unnatural to think of Misato (Who is twice his age) approaching Shinji sexually (neither should be accepted). So let's dive into how Misato might think about that. As early as episode 2, we are shown Misato yelling at Ritsuko through the phone, saying, "There is no way I will lay my hands on a boy!". This is perhaps foreshadowing what she will be doing in the later part of the series. So what changed in her throughout the series that she would end up trying to lay her hands on Shinji sexually. Did she genuinely believe that it was the only way she can console Shinji? Or perhaps there was a more selfish reason, to distract herself from the sadness of losing Kaji? Well, it could be both. There is a middle ground and an explanation that I prefer. Kaji was the only man she allowed herself to be vulnerable with. Because the best means of communication between the two have been sexual, she most likely believed this to be the most effective way to empathize and be vulnerable with Shinji.

We can see this as another manifestation of her Electra complex if we consider that Shinji also reminds her of her father.

As many of you are aware, Evangelion borrows concepts from psychology and is strongly influenced by Freudian psychoanalysis. Psychological terms are heavily used, especially in later episodes. The characters' internal conflicts are put into the spotlight in episodes 18, 19, and 20. All these episodes use terms from psychoanalysis for their title. Let me touch on each of them briefly over here. Episode 18's title is "Ambivalence." It refers to the coexistence of two conflicting emotions (Love and hate) regarding something and was coined by Eugen Bleuler in 1911. Freud borrowed this term in his analysis. His followers believed it to be an essential state that leads to the sadistic sub-phase of development. Episode 18 is also when the dummy-controlled Eva Unit-01 destroys Bardiel. Thus the title can also help us understand the Destrudo-led sadistic destruction of the dummy program.

Episode 19's title is "Introjection" and was a term heavily used by Freud. It is the unconscious adoption of the ideas or attitudes of others and a psychological defensive mechanism used by the ego to minimize anxiety. Almost every human being goes through this phase and is a part of healthy development as an individual. Episode 19 is when Shinji emits a strong dose of Destrudo and achieves a 400% synchronization rate. Here, we can try to explain the use of this term for the episode title in two ways. The first is to refer to the synchronization process of the pilot and the Evangelion. Secondly (and more specifically to the episode), to refer to Shinji becoming an individual that has become a part of Unit-01. Becoming a part of Unit-01 who have just absorbed the S2 engine and become as though god.

Last is episode 20, titled "Oral stage," and is the stage central to Freud's theory of Libido's development. Libido is the potential sexual energy, and Freud categorized the development into four distinct stages, starting with the oral stage. During this stage of development, the child clings onto its mother's breast for nourishment. This is also when the child begins to develop the ability to distinguish between themselves and the other. The significant happening of episode 20 is salvaging Shinji from Unit-01's Core, trying to bring Shinji back as an individual and away from the comfort of his mother. This can be seen to parallel the child leaving its mother's womb and coming to be born into its own person. And to add, they had to inject Libido into the Core to salvage him.

To return from our long detour, Evangelion is a series that heavily draws its conceptual inspiration from Psychology and Freudian psychoanalysis. What Freud posits, and perhaps most central to his scholarship, understands that desires created by both Libido and Destrudo, any forms of mental energy are irresistible and irrepressible. That is to say, if during one's development if any of such mental energies' expressions are disturbed and blocked off, it will results in the development of harmful coping mechanisms as an adult. In the case of Misato, her father's absence resulted in the absence of ways to healthily release her Libido. Therefore, Misato's inappropriate advance towards Shinji could manifested the harmful coping mechanism she developed as a child.

Losing her father as a child resulted in dysregulation in Libido. Losing Kaji, the only person she truly loved, left Masato broken. At this point, she had no other way to release her desires other than laying hands on a vulnerable child. When both Shinji and Penpen refused her the physical affection she needed, she could only find comfort in listening to Kaji's final voice message in repeat. Yet, she did not lose all possibility to recover. She was able to dry out her tears and began to follow the road her father once took. This leads her to analyze the evidence Kaji passes onto her and begins questioning the truth behind Rei. By the end, she manages to reach close enough to understand the "Truth." This is how she was able to explain to Shinji what was going on. She also experiences character growth through this process, becoming able to fully understand and empathize with the pain of others.

This is also when we see her starting to differ from Asuka. While both lost Kaji, whom they both loved, Misato comes to accept this loss and can carry herself as an adult. By the end, she was mature enough to send the grieving Shinji to Unit-01 during the End of Evangelion. While Misato has always convinced Shinji to get on the Eva, now, she was different from the past. Unlike in episode 4, where she emotionally manipulated Shinji into piloting Eva. Unlike episode 12, where she drew a hard line and coldly forced him. In EOE, she was no longer forcing Shinji out of her own hatred of the angels. All there was, was a grown adult's desire to convince a child that "Life is worth living." Even if she were to die during this process. All there was, was Misato's advice as an adult to the crying child. And it was this "will to live" that was passed on from Misato to Shinji.

Misato places her necklace on Shinji's hands and wraps his hands around it. Just as how she once held onto it while facing death in its face. Her father's memento. The love towards one's family. Hope for humanity. And all else that the cross symbolized. And the cross passed on from Misato to Shinji like the passing of the torch. To pass on the will to live. This was followed by a grown-up's kiss, just like how Kaji showed her, the perfect way to, perhaps the only way to fully communicate this will and pass it on. To want the other to continue living and hoping to live on as a part of their memory.

With the kiss, Misato stopped pretending to be Shinji's inept guardian.

She sent Shinji off, hoping that he could become a grown-up who can stand by himself.

Misato: You will be alone from this point on. You need to choose for yourself.

Shinji: No. I can't.

Misato: Crying isn't going to solve anything, either!

Misato: You hate yourself, don't you? That's why you hurt others. Deep down, you know that you suffer more when you cause someone else pain than if you just let yourself get hurt. But Shinji, that was your decision, so that makes it a valid choice. That's what you wanted, so that makes it worthwhile, Stop lying to yourself, and realize that you do have options. Then accept the choices that you made.

Shinji: But you're not me. You don't understand!

Misato: So what if I'm not you?! That doesn't mean it's okay for you to give up! If you do, I'll NEVER forgive you as long as I live.

Misato: I'm not perfect either. I've made tons of stupid mistakes, and later, I regretted them. And I've done it over and over again. A cycle of hollow joy and vicious self-hatred. But even so, every time, I learned something about myself.

Please, Shinji. You've got to pilot Eva and settle this once and for all. Find out why you came here. Why you exist at all.

And when you've found your answers, come back to me. Promise me. See you soon.

Kaji: Go and do what you can. No one will force that choice on you. Think for yourself and decide for yourself. GO and do what you must right now. So that you don't live to regret it.

Misato: If I had known it would end like this, I would have changed the carpet as Asuka suggested.

Many discussions about Eva centered around her last words, the one about the Carpet and Asuka. Most of the theories have interpreted it with the spilled coffee during the instrumentality scene. I'll touch on the scenes shown in instrumentality in future chapters. But for the discussion here, note that the coffee was not spilled on the carpet during the instrumentality scenes. So I'd instead interpret this line separately from it. Personally, I believe this to be Misato, as an adult, regretting not being as kind and compassionate as she could have been to Asuka.

Unlike Shinji, who she managed to pass on her will and true feelings, she did not have that privilege with Asuka. Instead, she wallowed in her sadness, not looking out for Asuka, who was herself suffering from traumas and grief. The regret of not being a good guardian and not making the home comfortable for Asuka would have hit her as waves of regret crashed in as she laid bleeding cold on the floor of section R-20.

After Shinji, who she just sent off, Asuka, who she feels sorry for, After Penpen, who was always there for her, Kaji now crosses her mind. Was she waiting for his praise for passing on his will to Shinji?

As though she can see him, she stares at the sky. Right before the explosion, we see Rei standing over her. Perhaps it was Lilith who traveled through time.

And we come to the final scene of the EoE. Shinji and Asuka are lying down on the shore, staring at the sky. At this moment, we are reminded of Misato through the cross, now nailed to a wooden post. The cross has come to symbolize Misato's hope and dreams for the two children who will now be growing up into two adults. Will Misato be able to revert back to her human form by her soul desiring it? Nobody knows. But I don't think that matters. Because now, Shinji carries on her will.

Let's continue when you get back.

I'm back. Welcome back.

Welcome Shinji, this is your new home.

I'm back.

Welcome back!

Sorry, made you wait!

TBC Chapter 24: Ritsuko Part 1 Mother and Daughter

#Neon genesis evangelion #Evangelion #Eva #End of Evangelion #Nge #Nagisa Kaworu #Lilith #Sci-fi #Ikari Shinji #Soryu Asuka Langley #Asuka #Ayanami Rei #rei #Anno Hideaki #Katsuragi Misato #Kaji Ryoji #Anime #Analysis #Review

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thinkingisadangerouspastime · 3 years

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what do you think of aang's comments in "the southern raiders" and what they meant to katara? I watched that episode recently with my sister who dislikes atla, and assessed similar things to what certain people of the fandom are saying: "aang didn't understand her", "aang was pushing his beliefs onto her", "it didn't seem like he knew her", etc. she was more fair than those people of course because she did say it was realistic that he'd be so worried since she recognizes that he does love her.

Honestly those arguments are all,, tired. They’re outdated. They’re boring. They’re wrong. They’re a result of a fundamental misunderstanding of A:TLA canon. This isn’t to say that those who genuinely, truly believe these arguments are terrible people (obviously not lmao), but somewhere along the line they had a seed planted in their mind that posits them to have inherent dislike for Aang. And honestly? I just feel sorry for them, because not understanding and appreciating Aang means their A:TLA experience really can’t be that great. But I digress!

“aang didn’t understand her”

Oh, what’s the post? Right - “Fandom once again forgets that Aang is the sole survivor of genocide.” Aang understands better than anyone else what Katara is going through*. There is a direct parallel between Aang finding Gyatso’s skeleton and Katara finding Kya’s body. I’m not going to sit here and argue which was more traumatizing (literally can’t stand when people do that) because you can’t quantify grief like that, but it cannot be denied that Aang has experienced something incredibly similar to what Katara has gone through: the loss of a close parental figure followed by finding said parent’s corpse. Not only that, but Aang and Katara both share a unique sense of helplessness intertwined with their grief regarding their parental figures’ deaths. For Katara, there are the questions of:

- what if I wasn’t a waterbender

- what if I had run a little faster

- what if I had fought against Yon Rha back then

All leading to “Could I have saved her?” For Aang, there are the questions of:

- what if I wasn’t the Avatar

- what if I hadn’t run away

- what if I had stayed to fight the Fire Nation back then

All leading to “Could I have saved him?” Both of them feel incredibly guilty on a personal level about the death of their parental figures, thus blaming themselves. Katara tries to push it off onto Zuko/the Fire Nation and Aang tries to suppress it entirely, but ultimately it is revealed how closely they hold responsibility to their chests. For Aang, it comes out in “The Storm.” For Katara, it comes out in “The Southern Raiders.” So, bullshit that Aang doesn’t understand Katara! He understands her grief better than anyone.

Also, many, many people have gone into this before, but Aang’s example of Appa being stolen was not callous/rude/etc. Appa was the last living piece of his culture. Appa is not “just a pet.” People who insist so are the actual ones being callous, not Aang. And, as Aang himself says, “How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people?” Aang has experienced more hurt at the hands of the Fire Nation than anyone. There’s a great meta here that delves into Aang’s experiences as the sole survivor of genocide. I don’t understand how someone could acknowledge all that Aang has lost (read: he has lost everything) and then argue that he doesn’t understand Katara’s pain. Like, what? Do you have no sense of empathy?

But most importantly, from Katara herself: “Thanks for understanding, Aang.” She says this after her initial dismissal of him. So take it from the source, my friend - Katara believed Aang understood her. Who are we to argue?

*The only exception perhaps being Sokka, since Kya was indeed his mother, too, but it is worth noting that Sokka did not have the same experience of seeing Kya’s dead body or feeling the intense self-blame that Katara did.

“aang was pushing his beliefs onto her”

It is SO funny how those SAME people have NO problem with everyone in the Gaang telling Aang to kill Ozai the finale! Y’know, when they were disregarding the pacifistic beliefs of his people in exchange for emphasizing their, ahem, more aggressive ones? SO funny! I’m laughing SO hard right now!

Heavy sarcasm, in case it wasn’t obvious. They’re hypocrites and they know it.

But, more importantly, Aang was not pushing his beliefs onto her? At all?? Tell me where in the episode Aang:

- refused to let Katara go after Yon Rha

- told Katara what she was doing was wrong

- told Katara that HE was right and that SHE needed to listen to HIM

Here’s the thing: none of that ever happened! Not only does Aang accept that Katara needs to go (see: “I wasn’t planning to [stop you]. This is a journey you need to take. You need to face this man.”), but he allows her to take Appa on her journey. Appa, the last living piece of his culture. Aang has incredible trust in Katara, and his choice to send Appa with her (essentially sending a piece of himself with her) demonstrates this fact clearly. That should end the discussion point blank, but I guess I’ll break down the lines people seem to have issues with:

1) “It’s okay, because I forgive you. [Pauses.] That give you any ideas?”

Honestly, the criticism this line gets is laughable to me. People use it to argue that Aang was being disrespectful to Katara’s feelings and?? I hate to break it to them, but you HAVE to look at the context a line is in if you’re going to judge it. That is Analysis 101: Context is Everything. This moment is used to break tension. That type of scenario is an entire literary trope, okay? A:TLA did not invent it! Shakespeare literally did it in Romeo and Juliet when he had Peter argue with musicians about something stupid after Juliet’s “death.” The whole point is to break tension before more serious scenes. In R&J, it is before the lovers kill themselves, and in A:TLA, it is before Katara leaves with Zuko to confront Yon Rha. That’s why there’s another moment just like it at the end of that scene! Y’know, Sokka asking to borrow Momo for no reason? It breaks tension! It’s a moment of respite before weighty scenes! It’s incredibly common in every form of media! This is what no Humanities classes did to some of y’all, I swear to God. So yeah, Aang was not disrespecting Katara’s feelings with this. It’s just a tension-breaker. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news for those who devoutly believed it was a sign of Aang being a Horrible Person. You were wrong, ain’t no big thing, go drink some water and stay hydrated okay darlings?

2) “I don’t think so. I think it’s about getting revenge.”

Um, a major point of “The Southern Raiders” is that Aang was right about Katara’s initial drive to face Yon Rha? It was a quest for revenge? Katara literally bloodbends, an ability she was forced to learn and essentially feels cursed to bear? Also, nowhere here does Aang tell Katara she was a horrible person for feeling angry and wanting revenge. He simply brings her attention to the reality that what she’s currently seeking is revenge. He’s worried about her. She’s his best friend! He loves her! He doesn’t want her to kill Yon Rha because he knows that for Katara to have blood on her hands from a revenge quest would hurt her tremendously. (As a matter of fact, the audience knows - or should know - this, too.) So, sorry that Aang expresses concern for her? Apparently not wanting your best friend to murder someone is forcing your beliefs onto them? Damn. Y’all are harsh these days.

3) “The monks used to say that revenge is like a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you’re being poisoned yourself.” // “Katara, you do have a choice: forgiveness.” // “No, it’s not. It's easy to do nothing, but it’s hard to forgive.” // “But when you do, please don’t choose revenge. Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.”

I put all the forgiveness quotes together since people tend to complain about them as a whole. But like,, I really don’t see how this is Aang forcing his beliefs onto her? He asks her to choose forgiveness. And just speaking plainly: on an emotional level, it is better for someone to forgive than to murder. Killing someone is not easy, even if you hate that person with every bone in your body, and it will mentally scar whomever does it. Y’all know this! It’s obvious! I shouldn’t have to say it! But Aang knows this, too, and thus he doesn’t want to see Katara kill Yon Rha and perhaps kill a part of herself in the process. Katara is not a killer. I’m not arguing about whether she could have or even if she wanted to, because you know what, she admits she was tempted, but Katara is not a killer. An FMA quote is very fitting here:

“Your hands weren’t meant to kill. They were meant to give life.”

Why should Katara have to live with a man’s murder on her conscience, especially when his death would be a result of fruitless revenge? The answer is simple: she shouldn’t, and Aang doesn’t want her to. Katara is a warrior. A healer. A leader. A friend. But not a killer.

Anyways. Back to my point: Aang is not forcing his beliefs onto her here. He’s offering her another option, the option she ends up choosing, albeit she extends forgiveness to Zuko instead. And Prince Holier-Than-Thou (jk love you Zuzu) acknowledges it himself: “You [Aang] were right about what Katara needed.” Aang didn’t force anything on Katara here. He reminded her of her choices, he reminded her about the consequences of revenge, and he reminded her about the value of forgiveness. Never once did he tell her she had to forgive Yon Rha or else. And when it came down to it, he stepped aside, and he let her go, because he knew this was a journey she needed to take. So… He actually did the exact opposite of forcing his beliefs onto her! He respected her feelings and let her make her own decision! Seriously, how many pairs of anti-Aang goggles do people have to wear to genuinely believe otherwise??

“it didn't seem like he knew her”

Ohhhhhh my God this is SO close to one of the actual points of the episode! So close!! It’s not that Aang didn’t know her; it’s that Katara wasn’t acting like herself. I’ve talked about it before here and here, but Katara was incredibly consumed by her emotions in “The Southern Raiders.” It’s why she ignores Zuko the entire time before they leave on Appa! It’s why she makes that callous comment to Sokka about their mother that we know she never would have made normally! She is drowning in grief about her mother’s absence, guilt regarding her mother’s death, and anger about Zuko (she still does not trust him, and yet he can lead her to her mother’s killer; I don’t know about y’all, but that is really freaking difficult to reconcile). So when Aang compares her to Jet, it’s not a far-off description. She is acting like Jet, because she’s consumed by grief and hurt and anger and she’s not acting like herself. It is instrumental, too, that Katara isn’t acting like herself, because it makes her decision not to pursue revenge and instead offer a second third chance to Zuko even more profound. “I’m proud of you,” Aang tells her, and damn! The audience is, too! I was incredibly proud of her for finding her way out of what can be a bottomless spiral for some people. So again, it wasn’t that Aang didn’t know her. It was that Katara wasn’t acting like herself (I guess meaning… no one knew her?).

In conclusion, literally all of these anti-Aang arguments regarding TSR are exhausting and so easily disprovable. The fact that they somehow manage to live on is evidence that people just want excuses to hate Aang, plain and simple. Like, it’s so easy to just say you don’t vibe with his character? You don’t have to pull BS excuses to “justify” it? I don’t vibe with Ty Lee as much as I do other characters (although I have recently grown much more fond of her; bless the Renaissance for more Mailee content, even if some of it is just a Zukka byproduct), but y’all don’t see me twisting her sacrifice in “Boiling Rock” to make it seem like it was selfish or something (mostly because, spoiler alert, it wasn’t). Like, you can say Aang isn’t your favorite and move on instead of using the same boring rhetoric over and over and over that just makes it look like you lack critical thinking. :/

TL;DR - Aang’s comments to Katara in “The Southern Raiders” came from a place of concern. A place of wisdom. A place of love. And honestly? I think Katara realizes this, and she’s grateful to him all the more for it.

#if y'all even mention zuko on this post i will stomp you to death with my hooves. this is not about who understood katara better!!#this is solely addressing bs anti aang arguments #aang #katara #atla #avatar the last airbender #adding line break after i post btw!!#atla meta #atla analysis #the southern raiders #yon rha #amy answers #amy analyzes #queenaleesbiggestfan-writes

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letusmeetagain · 3 years

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“Love someone”

I wanted so bad that Mikasa wasn’t the one having to take him down... At the very least and as I could consider time ago, it would be more like a mercy killing. I also wanted to believe that it was already done and there wouldn’t be more major losses such as Falbi, Connie, Jean or the remaining Eldians.

However... this will be probably a really long post but I don’t care, I’ll include every panel I need... The circumstances justifies it...

In the end, it seems to be that Reiner wasn’t delusional at all.

Eren wanted indeed to be killed but not by a random person. It had to be Mikasa, as he saw.

And probably, this is related to the way she did it. Mikasa displayed whichever feeling you could imagine regading love, loyalty, compassion, dignity, pride, mercy...

Conversely, Ymir died trying to show her love and found a bitter, humiliating. The king deprived her from her status of human and attacked her dignity. This disrespect, the way she couldn’t reach his heart at least as human condemned her to serve him in paths from eternity.

Eren, who was born somehow fated by his own nature and the circumstances to this role, freed her. Maybe she doesn’t want to see Eren suffering her destiny.

On Eren’s approach of his own existence

I have tried since ch. 130 was out to explain the connection between this chapter and chs. 88/9 Eren and the baby, explaining that there was just a thematic connection related to death and birth. I still don’t know if the baby will have a more important role in the ending: I started to think that there won’t be a major meaning for the baby more than the beginning of a new era.

[BIRTH DEATH]

Meanwhile, Mikasa’s feelings for him represent his attatchment to this world and the importance of his existence into it.

I happened to find a philosophic discussion on existence between Arendt and Heidegger and I found interesting that Arendt criticized Heidegger’s more “pessimistic?” approach for attributing the meaning of existence out of the idea of death (thus the finitude/end of the being) and the acceptance of it.

Then, Arendt, introduced the focus on natality and birth as the main point of life when a new unique person enters the world and introduces the new into the world while being born free through their innerent capacity to act and think... thus to “begin” [events].

The latter reminded me of Carla’s words to Eren. She wanted to highlight Eren’s existence and its legitimacy based on the start of his life and the way he “touched history” (I’m quoting “The poisonwood bible”) in the sense that he his doing brought change to the lives of his friends and humanity.

To contextualize a little this discussion, the first approach was born in the middle of a period where death was the law... I’m talking about chaotic, hard times for humanity that were the period of the WWI and WWII. Arendt, a victim of the Nazi regime, built a conception that aimed to retrieve the dignity of humans not as if they were born to die but to live. She thought that focusing on death mislead and hurt the essence of human existence reducing it to its end.

(trans. yaboylevi)

On Mikasa’s love for him

What it means to love someone in Isayama’s work?

Be free. To love someone means to want them be free from pain and everything that goes against their dignity and the undeniable fact that they were born into the world.

The greatest act of love is to wish them to live proudly and free. It’s about life, a life without regrets and guilt.

It’s not power what leads someone to be free, but love. Love reaches trascendence in the memories of others as it touches their existences too.

Witnessing love was in the end something Ymir pursued during the rumbling. Some chapters ago, I couldn’t tell if Ymir was the one needing to see it or that she wanted to deliver this message of love as the path to freedom for everyone.

Freedom can be attained through love.

Meanwhile, the way to this...

It’s already explained that child Eren was crying because of the happenings he would experience in the future, the way he was cornered between being a livestock and the genocide. He cried for the first time in front of Ramzy acknowledging his reasons to cry that were that he couldn’t accept the end for Paradies.

Facing this big tragedy, the unbearable feeling of loss, Mikasa wished to go back to their home with Eren and enjoy a peaceful life together. But let’s not romaticize it too much...it has a small letter that explains why Mikasa is crying and why she chose her reality.

This... “something” (like in Lost Girls), let’s say it’s an experience which nature can and can’t be described as reality... It doesn’t really matter if it was real as it was experienced by both of them. At this rate and judging by Eren’s faces while talking to Zeke about Mikasa, he even saw this experience in his memories of the future too.

The small letter is exactly that they live a life full of regrets. They betrayed their friends and the island in order to spend Eren’s remaining time alone. In ch. 123 we see a key moment for Eren to avoid having to make a decision exaclty because he was doubting about his decisions. We indeed know that he couldn’t change the future and that Mikasa didn’t chose this answer. I also wonder if such a AU is viable as Eren never got to paths to force his father to steal the founder and thus... How did they managed to come to this point? I wonder. Still, as I said, even if it’s not viable as reality, things can be real as both of them have this memory and the interaction/communication is still real.

This long dream helped Mikasa to realize something she needed to know. She finally understood why Eren wanted to throw the scarf, why he told her that he hated her. The reason why he pushed her away without explaining her nothing.

She knew he loves her and wants her to be free from any kind of suffering related to the loss of her family. He wanted to vanish from her life. That way she could give meaning to his words to Louise about the scarf: it wasn’t lack of love what made him want to erase the proof of their bond and his promise to her, it wasn’t his will what prevented him from staying with her but his circumstances. This experience reminds us the letter Ymir sent to Historia.

The conclusion of this experience is that such a life hiding from their friends, full of regrets and just waiting for Eren’s death wasn’t the right choice for none of them. The irresponsibility of letting the world they were born into was the reason why she was crying as she knew she was letting things happen in the real world without doing anything. Contrary to Eren’s wishes, she doesn’t want to forget him. That’s the decision she made. She chose to show him that she doesn’t to let him being forgotten and this means that she won’t allow him to think his existence was a mistake.

In Trost, she decided to live to remember him. She decided to reaffirm her life and their story together. Now she reaffirms her reality and her wish to express her true feelings regarding his existence. All in all, Mikasa wished for him to be free from the pain as he did with her... thus the reason on why she decided to wear again the scarf.

One important part of Eren’s development in the last chapter will be probably with Grisha...

“Someone may see them later”. Eren. Probably Eren. After these panels, Krüger tells him to love someone. To wish someone’s freedom in his individual story means to love someone... and this will affect humanity’s future and avoid making the same mistakes over and over again. Interestingly, the panel when Eren tells Mikasa to be free resembles the provisional last panel.

As I discussed here Mikasa could relieve Eren’s pain and she chose to kill him in order to save him from the pain of being the devil. Her determination, her refusal to regret having met him and remembering him and also her words to him... “See you later”... those words mean pride and will to see him again. Maybe a promise about meeting again. But the next development involves Eren acknowledging Mikasa’s determination and leaving his guilt and regrets behind while reaffirming his existence since his birth... until he asks her to remember him and his truth she got to know.

#eremika #snk #snk138 #Eren Jaeger #Mikasa Ackerman

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blackrosesociety-vampyres · 3 years

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WHAT WE ARE ABOUT – An Introductory Overview

You may have found us and equally found yourself at a loss to understand what exactly Black Rose Society is, what we are about, and where you might stand within all this. The purpose of the following texts is to give you a brief introductory overview of the central topics and avenues of exploration Black Rose Society focuses on. This way, we aim to provide you with a good idea of what you can expect to find in our community.

WHAT WE ARE

Black Rose Society is – first and foremost – a community of Vampyres, dedicated to Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture.

Black Rose Society is a place for serious exploration. We do not claim to possess all the answers, and we certainly do not speak for all vampire-identified people everywhere. Rather, we do our best to provide our membership with a conducive atmosphere to explore an extensive range of topics from within the perspective of Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture. We discuss how various groups of vampire-identified people arrive at expressing their varied experiences through self-identification with the vampire as a distinct category of person or archetype. We discuss how various groups of vampire-identified people have originated and shaped an authentic alternative subculture in the form of modern Vampyre Culture. We discuss the relationship between Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture – how one inspires the other, and how we in turn may be inspired as Vampyres.

Black Rose Society is also a social place of meeting. We provide our membership with a safe haven to gather, to mingle, to exchange news and information, to enjoy hospitality, to befriend, to learn on a basis of personal knowing. In this, Black Rose Society is explicitly open to all interested parties who might be sympathetic to us, both Vampyres and Black Swans, whether they seek closer affiliation with our sponsor in House Sauromatos or not, and indeed, whether they are familiar with the customs of Vampyre Society or still seek to learn more.

Lastly, we are about the celebration of being different, and we welcome all to have a good time in our spaces, as long as it is within the boundaries of our rules, guidelines and policies.

WHAT WE ARE NOT

Black Rose Society is decidedly not…

A roleplaying community Black Rose Society is a community of ‘Real Living Vampires’. This is not a game for us. While role players are indeed welcome to join Black Rose Society, we generally do not allow actual roleplaying in our regular community spaces. A dating community Approaching our community or any of our members with the sole intention of seeking a sexual or romantic relationship of any kind is firmly discouraged. Making another member feel unsafe or uncomfortable due to unwanted sexual advances or unwanted sexual comments may be considered harassment, and we will remove any offender from our community as soon as we become aware of any inappropriate behaviour. A provider of professional medical or legal advice Any information offered through Black Rose Society is considered to be for informational or educational purposes only, and is not intended as a substitute for, nor does it replace, professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Similarly, any information offered through Black Rose Society should not be in any way construed as professional legal advice on any subject matter. Should you decide to act or refrain from acting on the basis of any information offered through Black Rose Society, you do so at your own risk.

WHETHER WE ARE THE RIGHT COMMUNITY FOR YOU

Our community may not be the right fit for you, or it may indeed be the place you gladly call a haven.

You may have found the right place if you are at least one of the following:

– A Vampyre, someone who self-identifies as a Vampyre, or as Vampyric, or in any way identifies with the vampire as a category of person or archetype. – A Black Swan, someone who is a trusted friend to Vampyres and fully participates in the community, but does not or is not ready to identify as a Vampyre or Vampyric. – A Seeker, someone seriously questioning whether they are Vampyric, or whether they want to participate in Vampyre Culture in general. – Someone involved in consensual human blood-drinking between risk-aware adults, either as an active participant, blood drinker or blood donor, or as a close friend or family member of one, wishing to be supportive of them. – Someone engaging in advanced energy work, or Energy Vampirism, within the boundaries of Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture. – Someone pursuing Vampirism from the perspective of the Occult, open and sympathetic to Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture. – Someone with a genuine and enduring interest in all things ‘Vampire’, open and sympathetic to Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture.

We especially want to welcome you if you are at least one of the above and also:

– Someone passionate about furthering Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture, and ready to make meaningful contributions. – Someone intrigued by the aesthetic and mystique of Vampyre Culture, who wishes to actively explore its lifestyle aspects. – Someone with good questions.

You may want to look elsewhere if you are one of the following:

– A journalist or media worker seeking interviews. – Lacking the necessary maturity to deal with our topics. – Solely interested in hooking up. – Just curious for no particular reason. – Seeking to become a vampire in the hopes of gaining supernatural powers, lasting youth, increased lifespan, or things similarly fantastic. – Unwilling or unable to respect Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture, for whatever reason. – Unwilling or unable to comply with Black Rose Society’s rules, guidelines and policies, for whatever reason. – Scared of reading.

If you are unsure, you are most welcome to talk to our members on our Discord Community Server and have your questions answered in our #support channel or have a friendly chat in our #lobby, both of which are open to non-members.

BLACK ROSE SOCIETY ON VAMPYRE IDENTITY – There are no vampires in the Vampire Community

We begin with the Vampire Mythos. Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture are inevitably tied to the Vampire Mythos. We, Vampyres, are a people of the Vampire Mythos, in that our self-identification and our cultural self-expression as Vampyres will in some capacity reference the figure of the vampire from popular culture.

A vampire in the most common understanding of the word appears as a creature which drains the life (often in the form of blood) of humans to sate their own needs, enrich or prolong their own existence.

Vampyres do not believe that they are literal vampires as they appear in popular fiction or folklore. While some Vampyres might believe there to be some hidden truth to vampire stories, namely historical ‘Living Vampires’ who have passed into myth, Vampyres generally do not make any fantastic claims of possessing qualities commonly associated with the vampires of popular fiction or folklore. Vampyres are perfectly able to distinguish fact from fiction.

Indeed, the reality of Vampyres as a modern cultural phenomenon is a fact that is beyond any doubt. Since at least the latter half of the last century there are people like us – people who name themselves Vampyres for a wide variety of reasons.

What is commonly known as the ‘Vampire Community’ is in fact not a unified community but a collection of networks, groups and individuals who are associated with each other by virtue of their shared self-identification with the vampire as a category of person or as an archetype.

For our own purposes, we define Vampyres as individuals who are part of the Vampyre Subculture, or Vampyre Culture, and who identify as ‘Real Living Vampires’ specifically.

Note that we are observing the anachronistic spelling with a ‘y’ when referring to our kind, emphasizing and affirming our belonging to Vampyre Culture, with the benefit of helping to distinguish our kind from the vampires of fiction and folklore, spelt with an ‘i’ in the conventional way. (While not all vampire-identified people participate in Vampyre Culture, many are familiar with or adopt certain cultural ideas, customs, symbols and terminologies of Vampyre Culture.)

THEORIES ON VAMPYRE IDENTITY

Both outside of as well as within the ‘Vampire Community’ one will likely encounter arguments that Vampyrism may be a health condition or disorder, a sexual fetish, an escape fantasy, or a religious belief. We believe that Vampyrism understood as the phenomenon of modern ‘Real Living Vampires’ is severely misrepresented by completely reducing the whole diversity of Vampyre Identity to any one of the aforementioned explanations or rationalizations.

Despite unfortunately sounding like one, Vampyrism – as we understand it – is NOT a medical condition or psychological syndrome in the sense that Vampyrism cannot be sufficiently represented by completely reducing it as such, although attempts have been made to link certain facets of Vampyrism to various physical or psychological conditions, suggesting that there may be an empirical condition underlying some cases of Vampyrism.

Likewise, Vampyrism – as we understand it – is NOT a sexual fetish in the sense that Vampyrism cannot be sufficiently represented by completely reducing it as such, although there can be sensual, erotic aspects to Vampyrism, and individuals may experience excitement or receive gratification from or during certain Vampyric acts or complement their practice of Vampyrism with participation in fetish, kink or BDSM activities.

Further, Vampyrism – as we understand it – is NOT an escape fantasy, in the sense that Vampyrism cannot be sufficiently represented by completely reducing it as such, although Vampyrism has been proposed to be a reaction to trauma, abuse or feelings of isolation, and some individuals who regard themselves as outsiders or outcasts might be attracted to Vampyre groups, which in some cases can take on the role of surrogate pseudo-families.

Lastly, Vampyrism – as we understand it – is NOT a cult, religion, religious belief or religious practice in the sense that Vampyrism cannot be sufficiently represented by completely reducing it as such, although Vampyrism can have religious or spiritual facets, which can be studied in the context of alternative spirituality or new religious movements.

In Black Rose Society we prefer to regard the phenomenon of modern ‘Real Living Vampires’, or Vampyrism, to be primarily a matter of identity – personal, social and cultural. Approaching Vampyrism this way – as a social phenomenon and culture – allows us to appreciate a wider range of complexity and diversity of perspectives found within the different strata and subsects of Vampyric communities without confining us to a too narrow definition of the nature of Vampyrism, or – more precisely – of Vampyre Identity.

What makes one a Vampyre is – to the best of our understanding – ultimately tied to the very individual reasoning leading one to name oneself a Vampyre, to adopt the Vampyre Identity, and to participate in Vampyre Culture. Put more simply, a Vampyre is potentially anyone who chooses to name oneself a Vampyre for one reason or another. The individual reasons for why a person might identify as, or express themselves as a Vampyre, or as being Vampyric, are many and varied.

VARIETIES OF VAMPYRE IDENTITY

In Black Rose Society, you will encounter very different and sometimes seemingly conflicting perspectives being discussed – why one Vampyre might drink human blood, why one Vampyre might feed on human life-forces or subtle energies, why one Vampyre might do both or neither, ranging the more traditionalist to the more modernist, from the more materialist to the more spiritualist – as well as be offered some insights into the cultural development of the presented ideas and perspectives.

Black Rose Society is a community dedicated to the whole complexity and diversity of Vampyre Identity, and Vampyre Culture. In principle, Black Rose Society does not discriminate against and welcomes any individual expression of Vampyre Identity, so long as it does not conflict with Black Rose Society’s rules, guidelines and policies.

‘Real Vampires’

Some Vampyres practice consensual human blood-drinking between adults. Also known as ‘Sanguine Vampires’ or ‘Sanguinarians’, they often, but not always, claim to have an affinity or need to feed on human blood and that this practice is of some benefit to their physical, emotional or spiritual well-being, or that they experience some other form of relief due to this practice. Please note: In Vampye Culture the practice of consensual human blood-drinking often, but not always, happens within the bounds of a committed intimate relationship, but always strictly consensually between risk-aware adults. Black Rose Society explicitly distances itself from any acts of blood-drinking or bloodletting that involve and/or in any way abuse unconsenting persons, minors or animals.

Some Vampyres who are better known as ‘Psychic Vampires’, ‘Energy Vampires’, ‘Psi Vampires’, or ‘Pranic Vampires’ believe they have an affinity or need to feed on subtle life-forces which they believe they are able to draw or gather from another person or a group of persons by means of their innate nature or learned abilities. Similarly, they claim that this practice is of some benefit to their physical, emotional or spiritual well-being, or that they experience some other form of relief due to this practice.

‘Sanguine Vampires’ along with ‘Psychic Vampires’ are often categorized as ‘Real Vampires’.

‘Living Vampires’

Other Vampyres embody the archetype of the vampire by expressing it through facets such as Lifestyle, Aesthetics, Philosophy or the Occult, often, but not always, complementing the practices previously mentioned.

These individuals are known by many different terms and distinctions, but are sometimes categorized as ‘Living Vampires’.

‘Real Living Vampires’ or Vampyres

Be advised that any such categories are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Vampyres who – by virtue of their individual identity – may find themselves in both categories, and would be considered ‘Real Vampires’ as well as ‘Living Vampires’, we call ‘Real Living Vampires’, or just Vampyres.

Black Rose Society Vampyres are Sanguines and ‘Real Living Vampires’ in the majority – but we welcome all vampire-identified people and all those who may be sympathetic to Vampyre Identity and Vampyre Culture, provided they comply with our rules, guidelines and policies.

BLACK ROSE SOCIETY ON VAMPYRE CULTURE – What it means to be a Vampyre

Vampyre Culture, also called the Vampyre Lifestyle or the Vampyre Subculture, is an alternative subculture, meaning it exists as an alternative to – and apart from, yet within – larger society. Vampyre Culture in its current modern form originated with and is influenced by other alternative subcultures, alternative lifestyles or alternative spiritualities, and is often more closely associated with the Gothic Subculture, as well as with elements of BDSM, Paganism or Satanism respectively.

Although not all vampire-identified groups and not all vampire-identified individuals necessarily consider themselves part of Vampyre Culture, many groups of Vampyres or individual Vampyres follow their own authentic expression of Vampyre Culture. Vampyre Culture is often that which connects the various communities of vampire-identified people.

Vampyre Culture has its own complex heritage, with its own traditions and authentic lines of transmission. Prior to the advent of the internet, communities of Vampyres and groups of the Vampyric Heritage were – compared to today’s standards – relatively isolated from each other. This resulted in several more or less distinct traditions of vampire-identified people arriving to exist side by side in the current modern ‘Vampire Community’ with the turn of the century, each possessing an authentic history, each having an equally legitimate claim to what it means to be a ‘Vampire’, sometimes complementing each other, sometimes contradicting each other. Today there are multitudes of different Vampyre Houses, Covens and Clan-Families preserving, refining and transmitting their own piece of the Vampyric Heritage. Black Rose Society itself was founded as a Protectorate-Partner and functions as an Outer Court for House Sauromatos, a traditional Vampyric Household based in Germany.

MAKINGS OF VAMPYRE CULTURE

In Black Rose Society we are dedicated to the study and the discussion of Vampyre Culture from within the perspective of active participation in Vampyre Culture. We see Vampyre Culture expressed in our own ideas of social organization, in customs, in codes of behaviour, in etiquette, in philosophy, in spirituality, in our symbols, language and terminologies, as well as – to a limited degree – in our aesthetics, style, fashion, music, art, etc.

What makes up Vampyre Culture, and what Vampyre Culture means for us as Vampyres are among the most important questions Black Rose Society is exploring. According to our patron and sponsor in House Sauromatos there are certain traditions, fundamental ideas and concepts that one might consider to be essential to Vampyre Culture – its character, its values as well as its aesthetics and mystique: Feeding, Naming, Speaking the Language, Wearing Black, Secrecy, Education and Family

Feeding

For most outsiders and indeed for many Vampyres their interest in Vampyre Society begins and ends with Feeding. Although our words for and our ideas surrounding the practice of Vampyric Feeding may certainly differ, Vampyres as a category of person are nearly universally defined by the fact that we engage in certain Vampyric acts, or Vampyric behaviour, generally understood as a Vampyric person actively feeding on another person’s life-forces, often in the form of blood. The varied practices of consensual human blood-drinking between risk-aware adults, or the arts of feeding on life by certain subtle means are the most commonly expressed forms of practised Vampyrism. This is what we call Feeding. Our ideas of what it is Vampyres feed on, how and when Vampyres feed, why Vampyres feed, if there is a need for Vampyres to feed, of which nature this need might be and what it means for us as Vampyres will differ from place to place, group to group, individual to individual. Regardless of the variety of ideas present and expressed in Vampyre Culture, the concept and practice of Vampyric Feeding is central to Vampyre Culture anywhere. This is part of Vampyre Culture.

Naming

Names have power. At the beginning of one’s journey, one often chooses a dedicated name to be used for any coming interactions within Vampyre Society. Taking on a new name – a Vampyre name – can be considered an individual rite of passage in Vampyre Culture. It signifies a dedication or desire to be known and recognized by that name as a part of Vampyre Society. A Vampyre’s chosen name is often highly meaningful and should reflect one’s personal identity and journey as a Vampyre. Therefore, care should be taken when choosing a name for oneself. Under certain circumstances, a Vampyre may accept a name chosen by one’s mentor or a person of similar standing. It is commonly permissible to change one’s chosen name when one has outgrown it. For some, taking on a new name can mean the freedom of leaving the past behind to begin anew, discovering or re-inventing yourself, to seek out new experiences, to forge new bonds, to choose a new family. Indeed, when joining a traditional group of Vampyres, one might, in addition, take on the name of the House, Clan, Coven or Family in question, or a name honouring one’s mentor, signifying individual belonging and lineage. Among traditional groups, one’s naming is often accompanied by certain rites and ceremonies. While naming customs may differ from place to place, a Vampyre’s chosen name is generally an important expression of one’s Identity as a Vampyre. This is part of Vampyre Culture.

Speaking the Language

Belonging to Vampyre Culture is distinctly marked by the correct usage of specialized terminologies. While a complete Vampyric language never reached widespread use in Vampyre Culture, its specialized terminologies are similar to an argot, or cant, a type of secret language which can be employed to protect a group’s spoken or written communication from outsiders, establishing a subculture existing separate but within a larger society. To learn this secret language present in Vampyre Culture one would commonly access and study word lists, or learn directly from other Vampyres within an established group. This is part of Vampyre Culture.

Wearing Black

Subtle and elegant, black is the preferred colour of Vampyres according to tradition and suitable for any social occasion or function of Vampyre Society. To complement a classic black attire, silver jewellery is often preferred by Vampyres, as is the wearing of certain signets and symbols associated with Vampyre Culture. Traditional groups are known to recommend stricter dress codes depending on various factors – yet, the colour black enjoys almost universal acceptance in Vampyre Culture anywhere. This is part of Vampyre Culture.

Secrecy

Secrecy and confidentiality are paramount for Vampyres. From the earliest beginnings of what would become Vampyre Culture, our communities have relied on secrecy and mutual discretion. It comes with the territory, the deviant nature of our interests and activities, which are largely – and perhaps rightfully – considered to be taboo in larger society. Originating in traditional codes of silence, the importance of secrecy is near-universally recognized in Vampyre Culture, and it often is among the first lessons to someone introduced to Vampyre Society. Vampyres must ever take care not to disclose any information that could be in any way construed to threaten other Vampyres, their families, their friends, or themselves. The same applies to our trusted Black Swans, who know of us and keep our secrets. Do not seek the attention of the mundane. Especially avoid the sensationalist media like the plague. Do not misrepresent yourself as speaking for all Vampyres, or for any Vampyre groups you are not sanctioned to represent. When possible, entrust any outside public relations to those with more experience. Protect each other’s personal information. Keep your Vampyre life and mundane life separate. Do not reveal a person’s mundane name or any other aspects of a person’s mundane identity to anyone without explicit permission. Indeed, it is good etiquette not to inquire about a person’s mundane identity at all within Vampyre Society. Always keep the secrets entrusted to you personally. This is part of Vampyre Culture.

Education

With knowledge comes responsibility. In Vampyre Culture knowledge is traditionally passed on personally – from person to person, from mentor to protégé – forming traceable lines of transmission. Being of the Vampyric Heritage, it is a Vampyre’s duty and responsibility to share one’s knowledge with others and impart them with the necessary skills to feed responsibly, to instruct them in the language and traditions of Vampyre Culture, and to prepare them to serve as leaders and guides for the next generation of Vampyres, passing on the legacy so that it may endure. In a traditional mentor-protégé relationship, a mentor is called to protect, to guide and to correct any missteps of their protégé – always leading by example. For the duration of a traditional mentorship period, a mentor is – to a limited degree – responsible for the behaviour of their protégé. A good mentor will provide access as well as personal insight by introducing their protégé to relevant texts and resources, teaching them protocol and proper conduct, and inviting them to attend gatherings and social functions with them. A good protégé will demonstrate an eagerness to learn by asking questions and show respect by being attentive and valuing their mentor’s time. By tradition, it is the mentor’s responsibility to assess whether their protégé has acquired the necessary level of experience, self-control and knowledge to stand on their own and be formally recognized as a member of Vampyre Society. The successful end of a mentorship period will often be marked by certain rites and celebrations, depending on ruling customs. Vampyre Culture’s distinctly personal approach to the transmission of knowledge often stems from an appreciation of the living Vampyric Heritage and the desire to keep the flame alive by passing it on from one person to another, one generation to the one following. Our Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire. This is part of Vampyre Culture.

Family

Blood is thicker than water. Vampyres traditionally organize themselves into clannish, close-knit groups of like-minded, kindred spirits. Traditional Houses, Clans, Covens, or Families of Vampyres often emphasize their familial nature as part of their self-image. Indeed, traditional groups of Vampyres can at times resemble surrogate families, providing safety, stability and support – a life among your own kind, where other support systems might have failed you. Someone’s Vampyre Family is a true family of choice, often just as important to the individual as someone’s original family – if not more so. For these reasons, belonging and loyalty to one’s Vampyre Clan-Family or Vampyre House are valued highly in Vampyre Culture. Vampyre Houses, or other equivalent traditional groups, form the backbone of Vampyre Culture, and are typically, but not necessarily, headed by one or several influential matriarchal or patriarchal figures, with a close inner circle of Family members and retainers, attracting an outer circle of prospective members and hang-arounds as well as various supporters and sympathizers. While a certain level of stratification is traditionally upheld, it mainly fulfils a need for stability and security, which is ceremonially reproduced by hierarchy and ritual. In reality, there is often a striking difference between the formal stratified structure and the informal familial nature of this type of group – even in the most traditional of Vampyre Houses. Apart from providing their members with a family-like network of support, mutual loyalty and trust, Vampyre Houses, or other equivalent traditional groups, serve Vampyre Society in various other ways. Depending on the group or organization in question, Vampyre Houses, or other equivalent traditional groups, may be actively involved in the preservation and furthering of knowledge, in structured education and teaching, as well as in organizing events and social functions for their local communities. While the vast majority of individual Vampyres does not belong to a group following a more traditional model, their ideas and values of Family are deeply embedded in Vampyre Culture in general. Without the bonds of Family, we are nothing: Loyalty to each other, to Vampyre Society, to Clan and House – honouring the Ancestors, in Life and Death. All this is part of Vampyre Culture.

IDEAL OF VAMPYRE CULTURE

In Black Rose Society we customary refer to the utopian ideal of a community envisioned by Vampyre Culture as Vampyre Society.

Vampyre Society is perhaps, above all, a community of shared values. Vampyres often believe themselves to be in some way different from other people within larger society. Many Vampyres have experienced or continue to experience alienation due to their unique experiences. Vampyre Society is a place where all are valued and embraced for who they are, and where to be different is celebrated and cherished. Vampyre Society is a place where all are largely free from judgement imposed by larger society, heeding only Vampyre-specific codes of behaviour, more appropriate to their way of living. Vampyre Society is a place of belonging, which – fostered by the personal relationships found in real community, strengthened through facing shared adversity together, and heightened by the very mystique of the vampire archetype – may engender genuine feelings of pride and awaken true solidarity with other members of Vampyre Society.

To make Vampyre Society a lived reality, whenever or wherever possible, at social gatherings, or in any interaction with other Vampyres and Black Swans – this is the meaning of Vampyre Culture.

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snapeaddict · 4 years

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I was fairly certain Remus did regret his actions though. He literally tells Harry that he often stood aside and watched it happen without saying anything, and that he wishes he had. In the Prisoner of Azkaban, whenever Snape gives a dig at Lupin or insult him and Harry tries to stand up for Lupin, he repeatedly excuses Snape's actions. Hell, even when Snape tries to reveal Lupin is a werewolf and eventually causes his loss of job, Lupin never hits back, or even tries to defend himself.

I’ll divide my answer into three parts.

1 - Repentance vs Regret

So, you are right. I do think Lupin regrets some of his past actions - but the thing is, it seems to make you think he understood the seriousness of his actions/has grown up/is now a better person. And I strongly believe it is not the case regarding the subject of bullying.

“In repentance, there is a retrospection of the past mistake and a search for a better way so as to not commit the mistake if such a situation arises in the future. In repentance, there is a commitment towards change. Thus, repentance is an act that intends to make one a better person. If you are repenting, it means you are learning from your mistakes and willing to change to become a better person.”

This, does not apply to Remus. We know from the books he never understands and/or refuses to acknowledge what he and his friends did wasn’t justified or deserved; he doesn’t address it as bullying as I explain in this post. Lupin’s behaviour pattern is quite clear throughout the saga: he never or only partially acknowledges his faults and they are always someone else’s doing for the most part.

“Regret is a feeling of remorse that is a negative emotion as it leads one to think continuously about his past action or behaviour and causes more shame, guilt, anger, disappointment etc.

On the other hand, repentance is a positive emotion as it makes one learn about his mistake, and he vows not to repeat it in the future.”

Lupin gives the image of a kind, understanding and mature person who knows how to put into question is own behaviour when necessary when he tells Harry and Sirius he knows he should have prevented them from tormenting Snape (Chapter 29 of OOTP). But then, as the conversation continues, if you closely analyses his thoughts - he keeps indulging into self-beating and talking about his own behaviour. He is completely self-centred and cares more about the image he gives than about the consequences of his actions and this clearly is the way he functions:

- He is willing to risk Harry’s life by not telling Dumbledore Sirius is an animagus rather than confess he betrayed his trust as a teenager: he cares more about what the headmaster thinks of him than about the consequences of his actions.

- He finds the time to acknowledge he should have behaved better - what a mature reaction - but never acknowledges Snape’s trauma or the seriousness of what was done to him. He thinks of it as a “rivalry”.

- He puts a lot of effort into burnishing his and his friends’ image by justifying bullying with “rivalry”, “jealousy”, and agreeing with the fact “it was a mutual hate and those are things that happen” rather than admitting they behaved terribly.

So yes, Remus regrets his actions. But it is clear to me he firstly regrets them because it gives him a bad image in front of Harry and Dumbledore, and to himself; he never learns from his mistakes nor can make sure to not repeat them in the future, because he simply refuses to acknowledge them and put his energy into minimising them or making them, for the most part, Snape’s own fault. I find Remus to be a self-centred and cowardly person, and this behaviour goes along with it.

However, I am not saying this makes him a bad man and understand this is directly linked to the fact he is a werewolf and giving a positive image of himself is nearly vital for him. But clearly, the fact he regrets his actions means nothing besides what I just explained, in my opinion, because Remus refuses to acknowledge what they did. He never repents and we must not mistake regrets for repentance. Remember that being critical of a character doesn’t make him less interesting or likable and has nothing to do with your personal liking of him. Snape isn’t a saint either, it’s actually interesting to have characters with layers. However, Remus was written kindly and “loved” by the books’ narrative and POV; Snape was not.

2 - He still behaves, in his thirties, like a bully

...which shows he does not repent or feel sorry for what was done to Snape and their other victims. I had the chance to discuss this with @ottogatto and she was very helpful and gave me a very interesting insight on Remus’ behaviour as we see it through Harry’s eyes in the books.

As she explained, nearly every time the subject of Snape is brought up, Remus will subtlely put the fault on him. “He was jealous”, “Your father was more popular than he was and he hated it”, “He was jealous of James’ talent for Quidditch”, “Sirius and James were good at everything and everyone loved them, unlike Snape” are embedded quotes from HP5. Why was Snape furious against him at the end of HP3? “Because he wanted the Order of Merlin”; not because Remus had nearly killed him again as well as three students, just as he had done when Snape was younger. He keeps dismissing the consequences of his actions and justifies (to both Harry and the readers), the abuse Snape went through at the hands of the Marauders. He uses a florilegium of excuses commonly used by bullies that are both very vicious and even pervert in their aims (pervert = lead someone away from what is considered acceptable. Distort or corrupt the original meaning or state of things. Exactly what he does repeatedly). This is still the behaviour of an abuser. If @ottogatto finds the post she made about it, you may like to read it as well. Remus refuses to acknowledge Snape is right to act in the way he does regarding the bullying he went through and thus deepens the hate that already exists between Harry and Snape.

From the (wonderful) @ottogatto: You see, when you tell people how your target is jealous of you, it demonizes them in a shameful way. It tells how they are a pathetic person attacking you wrongfully, oh poor innocent human that did nothing wrong. Jealousy, after all, is a fault that remains completely on the jealous one. It gives your listeners the image that your prey is a mistrustful person while putting you in the position of someone who can be envied -- supposedly for your goodness. Because that prey is framed as mistrustful and ill-intentioned, it allows people to doubt whatever accusation your target might have: either "they're lying", or "exaggerating", or "making things up". Only those who are versed in the mechanisms of bullying -- the easy or the hard way -- will spot the problem. Otherwise, people will find a pretext, a rightful excuse, or an innocent, well-intentioned goal, to keep your prey alone, weak, and "punished".

3 - It is absolutely normal Lupin doesn’t defend himself or hits back when Snape reveals he is a werewolf

...because he is in the wrong. Snape doesn’t even cause his loss of job and you may want to reread the books while not taking Harry’s perspective for the unbiased truth. Dumbledore is obviously the one who asks Remus to resign. Remus just nearly killed three students and a professor, and roamed freely onto both Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade as a werewolf, risking many deaths and infections because he forgot the potion Snape had been brewing for him (he depended on Snape, another reason not to fight with him). Dumbledore just learns it isn’t the first time he betrayed his trust and he did the same for two years as a teenager, risking Hogwarts’s closure and reputation and his position as headmaster, breaking the promise he made to him when he was accepted as school. The worst thing is, it is Sirius who tells Dumbledore. Not Remus. Remus clearly demonstrates he is dangerous in spite of himself - Dumbledore learns as well he hid a very important information from him (Sirius being an animagus) during the year, supposedly risking Harry’s life. Dumbledore doesn’t apologize for Snape’s behaviour when he tells him goodbye and it is reasonable to suppose it is because he is fine with Lupin’s identity not being a secret anymore.

I understand Snape’s decision (and certainly Dumbledore’s as well, as read in Snape: A Definitive Reading and various clever posts on Tumblr) may seem cruel and negatively impacted Remus in a society full of prejudices; but I understand Snape’s decision as well. Lupin was a walking danger and had proved it countless of times, nearly killing him: I’ll always argue his decision wasn’t a bad one but you may disagree. I’m sorry for Lupin and what happened to him- but I also am lucid and acknowledge the fact he continuously risked people’s lives and was a danger to society at this point (because said society didn’t help him in any way, don’t get me wrong). But to come back to your main point, Lupin was the only one who caused his loss of job, and he had no legitimacy to call out Snape for revealing his true nature to the public, because clearly only this knowledge would prevent him from doing harm in the future. It’s a complicated situation that goes deeper than Remus and Snape’s relationship.

Lupin could also be deemed as dangerous on another level: he spreads around pro bullying rhetorics and makes it look okay if it was "deserved". He makes bullying less serious if the victim isn't likable. He makes bullying less serious because he is likable. And this is very wrong both in and outside the books.

#Snape meta #Severus snape meta #Marauders meta #Remus Lupin #anti remus lupin #Sirius black #James Potter #anti james potter #Anti Sirius Black #Pro snape #Bullying #Snapedom #Snape community #Severus snape #Harry Potter #Hogwarts #marauders era #Ask #Snape ask

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dai-ou-sama · 3 years

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Wrote a thing for AlbetherWeek2021!! Has themes of Day 1 and 3 (warmth and dreams), but it’s mostly just Albedo detailing how (and how much) he loves Aether.

—Please they‘re the epitome of a comfort ship I MEAN, WHICH OTHER SHIP HAS A STRING OF REPRESENTATIVE EMOJIS LIKE THIS: ☀️💫✨

Read on AO3 or down below!

Albedo woke to the sight of Aether curled against his chest, what, he decided, must have been his favourite sight in the world.

He was breathing in soft, gentle puffs, his shoulders rising and falling feather-like, nearly imperceptible. The sun had just barely risen. Its rays filtered through the curtains and set the room aglow with a soft golden light.

A draft of wind rustled past the curtains, parted them, stirred the dust in the air and illuminated them so they resembled snowflakes falling from the sky of their ceiling. Stray petals, all in different shades of yellow, drifted from the bundle of flowers hanging by their window onto their bed. They landed around Aether’s sleeping figure. Albedo laughed quietly to himself. It looked like a scene straight out of a fairytale.

For a while, he simply watched. Being in a sleep-tinged daze did not keep him from marveling at the sight of Aether; at his presence. It didn’t matter that this was a scene he woke to everyday. It hadn’t yet failed to steal his breath away and fill his heart with so much pure, unadulterated joy, that he thought it might burst.

Albedo watched him breathe; counted the seconds between each inhale and exhale. He mapped out the freckled constellations dusted over his cheeks and nose. Memorised them. He started combing through his hair, gingerly smoothing out the long locks with his fingers so Aether wouldn’t stir. He wondered at the way mornings casted Aether’s hair in light. Transformed them into strands of liquid gold solidified.

When all the knots in his hair were untangled, and all the stars across his face were found, he settled back into watching Aether breathe once more. It was a simple routine he repeated daily; one he fell more and more in love with with each passing day.

He reveled in the way warmth bloomed where their skin met skin. The way he could feel the soft thumps of Aether’s heart against his own even through the layers of fabric that lay between them. Thump, thump, thump. A steady, constant beat of life, heart to heart, that made him feel, more than anything, alive and corporeal and human.

There had been a time when Albedo had believed that he was an outsider living in a realm that he didn’t belong to. He was a hoax, an imposter, playing at human life in a masquerade.

He had doubted the very basis of his existence. Had questioned if his death would have amounted to anything more than an insignificant end to an artificial life. Like a porcelain doll falling to the ground, shattering out of existence.

From the faded memories of his youth, the written words of his old master had haunted him: Show me the true meaning of life and this world. Her final task to him before she had vanished into thin air.

Albedo hadn’t had an answer then. All he’d known were the laws of alchemy, the art of creation. Earth was the cumulative memory of time and being; soil was the origin of alchemy, the basis of all life; and chalk was the substance from which primal life was molded. There, written in words of fact. Simple, scientific. This he had understood. But what true meaning could have possibly been referring to had been lost on him.

No, he hadn’t had an answer. Not even then, when he would have given everything to see his master once more. When he’d been standing in the suddenly-too-empty halls of his old home, and wondering what the gnawing sense of absence inside him was. When he’d sat at the dining table that used to feed two people and eaten a dinner he hadn’t realised had long turned cold.

His master’s disappearance severed the only tether he’d had to the human world. The concept of meaning given to life and earthly existence became entirely foreign to him. He had found it laughably ironic that his talents lay in fabricating life.

Suddenly, it had felt like he was living in the margins of life. He was barred behind an invisible line, separated from everyone else around him. The depth of loss that had affected him had surprised him. He wondered if his master had somehow carved a part of him out and taken it with her when she’d left. Or perhaps, that that had been an entirely false hypothesis, and it was simply that he’d always been hollow. An empty shell, a facade of life — now simply made aware of it.

The more time passed, the more Albedo had been inclined to believe in the latter.

At least, meeting Alice and Klee in Mondstadt had helped quieten the clamouring in his head. Living with them was chaotic. It was a flurry of action and noise and laughter and warmth – so completely different from the efficient, systematic way he had lived with his master. Yet, somehow, their presence had still managed to feel familiar.

Their presence kept his anxiety at bay. Or at least, it kept his mind off of it. Klee’s hopeless antics and explosions staved him off from falling too far into a pit of wondering, wondering, wondering what having no answer suggested. No answer. No particular purpose or hope harboured in his being. What did that make of him?

It was a question that clung to him like a shadow that matched his every step and turn. Black matter, uncontrollable, that widened and stretched and grew at the back of his mind, eating away at more and more of him until it threatened to swallow him whole.

Life became a blur of passing interests before he had even realised it. A process of finding new creations and lifeforms that piqued his interest, before getting bored and moving on to find another. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

And then came word of the Honorary Knight. The rumoured traveler who didn’t seem to have come from Mondstadt — or anywhere in Teyvat for that matter. Who had been bestowed his title from the Knights of Favonius because of his contributions to the crisis with Stormterror. Whose name continued to be whispered around town because he, despite his grand title, continued to help with the average Mondstadtian’s most mundane of worries.

‘Aether’, they called him.

Aether. Albedo knew that word, he’d seen it in his alchemical texts before. The fifth element of alchemy; the purest form of air that the gods breathed. The personification of the upper sky, and the primordial god of light.

The boy who wore strange clothes and did kind things.

Albedo had been intrigued. Questions began wandering through his mind before he’d even become fully aware of them.

Where did this stranger come from? How did he control the elements? Why was he helping all those people? Wasn’t he tired? What did he look like? Was his hair as golden as the rumours said they were? Were his smiles truly as sweet as honey? Who was this mysterious person he was looking for?

...Is he like me?

And, somehow, just as his curiosity had reached its peak, they’d ended up meeting in his camp in Dragonspine. The traveler himself had come to find him.

Even now, Albedo still wasn’t sure if it had been this fact that had made his stomach flip in a peculiar way he hadn’t ever experienced before, or if it had simply been the sight of him.

The rumours had been true. Of his hair. His sunshine smiles.

More than that. How had the rumours managed to neglect how long his eyelashes were? Or how his skin resembled warmed marble? His lips to the soft curve of a waning moon?

And before Albedo had even had the chance to try and stop himself, he’d already thrown out a wild request for Aether to assist him with his experiments regarding the peculiar seed from another world. It had been made up on the spot and haphazardly hidden behind the excuse of ‘research’. Albedo still hardly believed that Aether had agreed.

In retrospect, Albedo often reflected on that moment. The same conclusion was always reached: he must have simply lost his mind in that moment. He was just glad that Aether never noticed a thing.

They spent the following weeks together, conducting experiments that confirmed Aether’s origins from a world beyond this one; that tested which laws of the Teyvat applied to him and which didn’t. Albedo’s initial questions about Aether were answered one by one. He easily formed more at a speed that far outpaced his answers. Questioning was, after all, in his nature as a scientist.

Questions like: What does he like to eat? Does he get cold easily? What would make him laugh? If I brought him flowers, would he smile? Is he as happy as I am when we are together?

Utterly scientific.

It had been weeks into their friendship by the time Albedo had noticed just how comfortable he felt around Aether. He was surprised by how often smiles broke onto his face, how at peace he felt. The worries that seemed to have plagued his mind permanently had been dimmed down, momentarily muted, and in their place was the thought of Aether.

They had found out early on that Aether was immune to poison and corruption. Evil did not affect his soul. He had the ability to purify corrupted objects with his touch. Albedo often wondered if that magic applied to him too.

But then, of course, that was impossible. Because, as much as Albedo wanted to believe in magic, he knew that problems did not go away by themselves, unaddressed. Problems demanded responsive action. This was so in experiments, and just as much in himself.

And so, one night in Dragonspine, when the snowstorm had been especially harsh, and the biting cold of winter seemed to seep deeper into him than usual, he’d confessed to Aether, in a fleeting whisper, all the thoughts and fears that clamoured in his head.

About the fact that he wasn’t, and wouldn’t ever be, truly human; that there was nobody else in this world quite like him; that it created an inexplicably jarring sense of isolation that he didn’t think anyone would ever understand. He confessed that he could not see purpose in his own existence.

He knew everything about the creation of life, but nothing about life itself.

His words had been uttered so quietly they had nearly been lost to the howling winds outside their tent. One could have pretended they were simply sounds of the storm imagined into words. The dwindling fire light between them could have been the only thing that heard him at all.

It was the first time Albedo had ever tried to vocalise the thoughts he rarely even let himself think. To speak into existence his emotions was to concretise them, and that had always been something he had instinctively turned away from.

That night, Albedo witnessed Aether’s smile drop from his face completely. For the first time since their meeting, he watched all familiar forms of joy and ease fade away from his expression and he immediately regretted ever saying a word because he could hardly bear with the fact that he was the reason why Aether looked like that.

A suffocating silence had settled over them like a blanket of snow. A sound too loud might have begun an avalanche. And then, like a shotgun, Aether had asked, “Do you love me?” His eyes had not left Albedo’s; his words had been steady. Albedo had failed to notice these things.

His breath escaped him in a heavy rush. Love? The question stumped him. The same way his master’s question had. What was the real meaning of life and this world? And suddenly, the same feelings of loss and confusion began welling up inside him again, amplified tenfold. A black hole ripped open beneath his feet, dragging him in, threatening to drown him.

His own silence crushed him. He fumbled for an answer, choked on his words. Looked away.

“...I don’t know,” he’d said. He had found himself incapable of explaining that he did not understand what being in love meant either.

Silence. It had been short, no longer than a few seconds, but Albedo had never experienced silence quite as loud. The world had begun caving in. He had been crumbling at his feet.

But Aether had not faltered. He’d gotten up and walked over to Albedo. He’d taken his face into his hands. His palms had been so, so warm against Albedo’s cheeks. So solid. “Then answer this instead: does your heart race when you see me?”

It was strange. Aether’s voice had been so quiet, so calm, yet it had managed to drown out the storms from the outside. He became an anchor. The world around them seemed to fall away. Suddenly, they were at the centre of the universe.

Albedo swallowed. Then nodded.

“Do you feel warm when I touch you?” Another nod.

“Do you fall asleep with thoughts of me? Wake from dreams about me?” And yet another nod.

“Good. Then you’re just like me,” Aether said. “Because when I see you, my heart races. When I’m by your side, I’m warm. I’m always thinking about you, and when I can think no longer, you visit me in my dreams.”

Aether’s voice had become fiercer and fiercer with every word he had spoken. There had been no joy reflected in his eyes in that moment, but there had been fire. A blazing flame that chased away – burned away – the shadows clinging onto Albedo.

“If you don’t know if you love me, that’s fine. You just need to know that I love you.” And then Aether had taken his hands and placed them over their hearts. One hand against each of their own. Albedo had felt two beats, identical, pound beneath his palms. “There, you see. Your heart is beating just the same as mine. Doesn’t that make you human enough?”

That was the night Albedo had found his answer to his master’s question. What was the true meaning of life and this world?

He hypothesised that the universal answer might have been love. The ability to love; the gift of being loved. But his personal truth could have only been one person.

That night had been years ago now. It nearly seemed like memories from another lifetime. Now, Albedo laughed when he thought about that night, because his present worries were so vastly different.

His present, most-pressing concern involved the fact that they had a list of a dozen-some chores that they needed to complete by the end of today, and Aether was still deeply asleep. And that was beside the fact that Albedo still had not figured out what flowers they were going to be using to decorate their home in preparation for this year's Windblume.

He’d decided that they would definitely be yellow flowers months ago, but he hadn’t settled on which ones he liked best. Marigolds, daffodils, dahlias, freesias, buttercups, primroses – each of them were a sentiment of his affection. Each unique in the type of love he felt for Aether.

There were so many things he needed to do…

Albedo watched Aether’s nose twitch. He felt him shift against his chest, then nuzzle closer to his neck.

…Later, Albedo decided.

Later, he would wake Aether up with a gentle flick against his nose so he could watch the way it scrunched in annoyance. Later, he would nag at him to get up so that they could go about finishing the chores they had listed out the day before. Later, he would indulge him with kisses all across his face when he began to complain.

Later, later, later. There were so many moments of the future waiting for them. An eternity’s worth, Albedo was sure. After all, they were beings that transcended time. Kreideprinz, the prince of chalk, birthed from soil, and the Honorary Knight, the boy made of sunlight and stars. It wouldn’t hurt to lay in bed for another hour longer.

#albether #albedo x aether #albedo #aether #I LOVE THEM SO MUCH YOUR HONOUR #my writing ew

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mc-critical · 3 years

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Since you said you just rewatched Isabella's arc, what do you think really happened at her end? Was she really killed or just sent away by boat to a monastery in Vienna like Suleiman said to Ibrahim? Hurrem told Nigar and Gul aga to throw them to sea, but scene was cut after Gul aga then said princess was still alive. A little hesitation seems to happen in Hurrem's face. Or maybe that really happened and Suleiman knew everything and just wanted to exculpate Hurrem so he kinda lied to Ibrahim? What do you think? :)

It remained more of a plot hole than anything, since the show didn't confirm it outright still, but I think there were much more hints given that Hürrem actually killed Isabella and SS eventually learned about it and covered for her than any other possible resolution for the plot line.

Hürrem was very adamant in throwing both Karmina and Isabella to Bosphorus and despite of the look she gave after Gül told her the princess was alive, there wasn't any indicator that she might have changed her mind. (or else they would have shown us, because think about it, would the show miss a chance in showing that Hürrem has some remorse/humanity left inside of her, even in regards to her enemies at this point? Highly doubt it.) Isabella and the servant were already gone in the morning and while I get why, say, Gülşah would wait until the morning to tell Mahidevran about her discovery through eavesdropping (she wasn't the brightest crayon in the room and the plot demanded it for a reason.), why would Nigar and Gül Aga wait until the morning to execute Hürrem's order? They knew full well that it was risky to keep her there, for that someone would find her sooner or later, Hürrem also knew that and wanted them to quickly deal with this problem (Nigar has shown her agency when it came to the orders of someone before, but given she helped with the poisoning, ordered by Ibrahim, that brought Karmina's death, would she risk Isabella being around to expose everything? And Gül Aga was unconditionally loyal to Hürrem.), so that's why I think they threw them both into Bosphorus before the morning came and were done with it.

Now, it would be something else if someone from SS's people found Isabella, told SS and he somehow intervened. Alright, but how and when exactly did that happen when SS had no idea whatsoever of what had happened to Isabella in the morning? Did he simply pull an act then? That would have been too much of a stretch, even for him. He wouldn't scold everyone and call for an investigation if he did. Even if he found out eventually, was there even a time for him to intervene? The episode was pretty tick with its plot threads, the pacing was very fast and we quickly, very quickly transitioned with Hürrem declaring her victory in front of little Mihrimah when we were still in day, while SS's confrontation with Hürrem was at night. How would he intervene and what would he do? Make up a story and send Isabella back to her country instead? Actually, Melike Ipek Yalova once claimed that this is what happened in an interview, little Mustafa had that suspicion while Mahidevran was looking at the SS-Hürrem nightly confrontation as well, and that could be the truth and it makes what the show showed even messier as a result, but dizis are usually written week for week and Meryem Uzerli mentioned in her confession interview about her disappearance in S03 that the script was constantly changing due to Meral's illness, hence that could've been only one of the versions of what happened and Melike might have had no idea about what they ultimately chose. (similarly to Cansu Dere, who, as I discerned due to her take on Firuze's relationship with SS in the MC: "Secret World" documentary, had no idea about the poison twist, probably because that was revealed after Cansu left and they simply hadn't planned the twist in advance. Melike's last scene as Isabella was her confrontation with Hürrem before Hürrem gave the order to get rid of both Karmina and her.) In-universe, SS couldn't have possibly brought her back to her country in my opinion, why? Because he was so ready to use Isabella as a tool for his political game just until a while ago, wanted her as close as possible (that was his reasoning for having her in the harem) and while he may have given a sign to Ibrahim that he may do an exception with her as a state matter due to him having a halvet with her, wouldn't sending her to his country thwart all he had in mind entirely? Wouldn't that be a little too risky when SS declared her dead? (yes, Gritti sent a message to Frederick that Isabella was actually alive and Frederick planned to get her back somehow, but no one else next to him believed him about that and told him to stand still, hence most people still thought of her as dead and SS has no idea that Frederick and Gritti know.) Okay, maybe he wanted to protect Isabella from Hürrem doing something to her since she's too valuable as a state matter and he didn't want strife in his harem (or at least that's what he convinces himself), so he might have put her somewhere far from everyone. But wouldn't it be more logical to send her to Carl, just as he planned, again not a while ago? Maybe he wanted to have her somewhere no one expected her to be, but why in her country, he would lose political points like this?

If he brought her to a monastery for her to cleanse herself of her sins like he actually said, he gives up from using her as a political tool entirely.... why exactly? Because of Hürrem and because of protection, when he still prioritized politics over his harem after all? (and he said a few episodes ago that the empire cannot be ruled when you're influenced by a woman or her tears) He may have thought she was played enough and maybe he wanted to give her a closure, but again, we're back to when did that happen exactly when the events were running one after another? Yes, this way he would have a win-win and Isabella would be far and secluded from everyone, but where did all the grand plans with her go, how did it happen? He demanded investigation while Isabella was gone after all and if he found out from the investigation, I doubt he could've interfered, because I doubt Isabella survived a throw into Bosphorus or she somehow escaped herself or found a ship that could save her or something. Besides, what happened to Karmina then? If SS found out, she would've been thrown into Boshorus anyway, because she was dead and no one would leave Isabella hanging until he waited for the investigation results? And if not, what, his people would just drag Isabella along to a monastery off-screen? And would Isabella trust they even were SS's people after what happened to her in the harem? This would've been much of a chase. Even without people, how did SS order a boat in the middle of the night when what happened happened in the morning after? etc. etc.

I believe SS found out about this whole ordeal at a point when he couldn't have interfered anymore and made up a story to cover for Hürrem and the loss. This simply makes the most sense given the timeline of events. While we were still wondering what happened to Isabella, Valide heard Hürrem's words to Mihrimah, her telling SS and after a conversation between the foreigners that had nothing to do with Isabella, a transition between day and night happened. Then Hürrem is called by SS, Gül is worried and Hürrem tells him the following: "If you acted like this all day, everyone must have understood that it was you." (along with him being worried about Mahidevran telling SS about her suspicions, which hints even more that they were correct.) This says more than enough for me. Hürrem sees her order as executed and the results of SS's investigation must have come to him at the night and then he couldn't have done anything, but simply make up a story to save his dignity and Ego, what's done is done. The confrontation with Hürrem itself shows that SS already knows more about Hürrem's involvement in the matter than simply Valide's accusations: he looks madder than he would if Isabella wasn't a lost cause, he started to speak about how his kids should always know who he is and then switched to asking Hürrem to remember who she's standing in front of. She has apparently crossed a line, a pretty big line that went over SS's own head. He also says: "What kind of love is this, Hürrem? Is love destroying? What's the limit of it? When will you stop? When will you be stopped?". Would he say that if she hasn't gone on the road to no return regarding Isabella? Yes, SS has punished her for something she hasn't done before in the past, he has played both with actions and words her and everyone else more than once, but this time these words leave room for something else. They hint that Hürrem has gotten what she wanted and that she couldn't be stopped, not even by him.

The confrontation with Ibrahim happened only the next day, after SS confronted Hürrem and came to terms with what happened. After all, he can't say outright, not even to Ibrahim who knew was against Hürrem and already doubted for other stuff, that Hürrem has done it under his nose. It would accommodate him much more to project the image of a higher authority who doesn't allow for stuff to happen without his knowledge and consent, for people to respect him as such and reconsider working behind his back or betraying his trust. SS wants absolute loyalty and when he can't get that or he suspects that he hasn't gotten that, he tends to remind everyone of how above them he is, no matter how much has he messed up himself or how right or wrong are his deeds.

I may be overthinking, because all this arc turned out to be was pointless fuel at the end of the day and I doubt they applied so much logic to it, but this is where I stand on its resolution.

#magnificent century #muhteşem yüzyıl #muhtesem yuzyil #sultan suleiman #hurrem sultan #isabella fortuna #ask #ganeshkfp

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incarnateirony · 4 years

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DM questions, a new round.

"i am very curious for the vids on amara right now, because I feel like I did not understand a lot of the underlying text from her plotline."

My Amara heavy vids are Reflection (S14 orig)/Destiny's Reflection(S15 update), End of the Line, and Xanthosis. However they're more how she interplays to the storyline for the mains rather than a breakdown of the mythological significance at large. I'd say check my talk on Absence. Somewhere I do have a cosmogeny post from like S13, where I break down the Qabbalah on this but I can’t seem to find it at the moment and would be a bit extra. Almost overcomplicate things right now since it went into the tree of life and pillars, even if that’s quite predictively mapping out our path right now episode by episode.

I will say: not all mentions of “absence” on my blog are specifically in regards to Amara, but rather, to a collective mindset. The fandom -- frankly, humans in general -- tend to think in dualities. A subtle point in the subtext of this all is that dualities are often more a matter of being and unbeing. Darkness isn’t a thing, it is an absence of light. Death isn’t a thing, it is an absence of life. Evil isn’t a thing, it is an absence of good. It wasn’t by magic that I pre-quoted Cas in well...Absence once I saw the episode title while dealing with Jack being soulless. (x) This is something to learn moving forward-- or uh unlearn. Be absent of former dichotomous coding. This is critical in other things like The Absence of Life which is going to be incredibly crucial to grasp coming up. (x)

Many authors talk about the Absence of Cas as a narrative tool, and while this is very valid, I find it’s almost too targeted. It’s a valid tool to start thinking about empty space: absence of Cas in AUs, the loss of Cas in the alternate future, and more--you’ll find me showing how Amara’s exit itself paralleled Cas and both handled Absence. But this is a very large scale idea that also impacts the sum of our cosmogeny really. You don’t think of it being “Cas” and “negaCas”, it’s just... absence. Something that isn’t there. Now expand that on these ideas.

I once etched this out on paint to try to streamline it when it comes to our Alpha and Omega (11.23), aka our Form and our Void (11.2).

"For the graphic, i just watched a few vids on alchemy and the 'souls' 'occultum' and 'eden' stand for 'soul' 'mind/spirit' and 'body' respectively right? But I am a bit confused about the end of the second paragraph, because from one of your posts I gathered that the souls are collected/destroyed/taken by amara and then "returned" to the empty. But in the graphic you seem to be implying the exact opposite? I think? Anyways it was very helpful to put all the different info into context thanx!”

They're pulled out into Absence, Absence is the lack of Being, Being is the created world. Beyond the created world there is the Empty. In the Empty there is only the Shadow.

And you're kinda close on the soul stuff. I'm at work so pardon if I'm going to be brief, I have a boss in my ear on a conference call but the long and short of it is... soul, mind/grace, body. But body is also the physical world. As above, so below. Everything, and I do mean everything, ties into this. Souls, heaven, how reality is structured -- if you haven’t yet, check my heaven meta as it tries to communicate this but also make sure to read through the rest here. (x)

The soul is the foundation of all things, the mind reflects the soul and identities grown of it from the creative collective, body/earth is the perception of the world and vessel in which we grow.

VISITA TERRAE RECTIFICANDO INVENIES OCCULTUM LAPIDEM

Visit the interior parts of the earth; by rectification thou shalt find the hidden stone.

Or, “loosely translated,” In order to be in the Occultum, the Occultum must be in you.

The alchemists often referred to this as the “Marriage of the Sun and Moon,” which symbolized the two opposing ways of knowing or experiencing the world. After this Marriage of the Mind, the initiate experiences an increase in intuitive insight and the birth of Intelligence of the Heart. This newly found faculty produces a sense of reality superior to either Thought (Mind/Grace), or Feeling (Soul), alone.

The soul lights and powers the mind, the mind perceives the body, the body is vessel of the world and gives meaning and form for the soul for the mind to receive, relive and understand, as opposed to the unformed and seeking Shadow in oblivion wondering if it even exists that just wants to sleep. This is also not so different from the world orbiting around the sun despite previous confusion, if sun = soul, but the moon reflects the sun’s life and is a key catalyst for making life achievable on earth in many ways. Wherein moon = mind. Hmmm what was it that led Cas right to the occultum before it passed in the same order as the last sphere this year?

"Yes! I believe I actually understood everything you just said perfectly fine! (Three hours ago this basically just would have been gibberish to me, for real!) but for real, tysm for explaining, you really have a way to get everything down short and precise, even if i have to read a few things double. Just one more question, you saying they are pulled out into absence, and then the circle gif: does this mean in the grand scheme of things that the circle is finished by the time "a soul goes back to the empty" (very loosely described). Or is the circle a bigger one where it began with "the empty" / "the ink man(was one of 'his' names I think)" waking up -> everything forming out of nothing. And will end at some point with everything returning to nothing. Just to start anew - and therefore cause another unrelated circle? Sorry I this makes absolutely no sence at all "Waking up" referencing the big bang of course - "everything returning to nothing" meaning the collapse of the universe - and the "start of another circle" meaning a second big bang"

There's actually two takes on this! Very good question! Ironically, most gnostic branches believe the ascent does return you to the formless shadow, and it's called a Nihilistic view. Basically you return to the source of the machine as the one. On the other hand, more hermetic structures are called Optimistic, in that the machine is self-created by us to learn and master ourselves through and achieve enlightenment by returning to a *reflection* of the core. In supernatural, this would be the Garden, where the unconscious shadow being built over in creation reaches down as the subconscious serpent and asks who you are-- man returning to the garden.

In fact, Jack’s role in this (including the Luciferian parts I’ll talk below) in being the one TO return to the garden corresponds with phanes and the orphic egg, the (remastered) being that CAUSES that big bounce. (x) Why yes, I AM going to just keep throwing season 14 posts at you because this structure is a few years building at this point.

The Shadow may be the source but a still raw and unformed one, it's the fish before it crawled out of the cosmic water if you will.

Whereas the question of Being or Unbeing, first sourced in ideas like Chuck and Amara, came as thought. Thought and Mind made the world in Being.

So Chuck Had A Dream, and built it, but off the back of a primordial Shadow soup that already existed before him.

So the Thing that wonders why, or even if it exists, does exist as a formative Prima Materia, first material, on which the mind itself was made, but in reaching into the created world also has a new form. There, the crossroads of man and divinity, the Garden, where Jack reclaimed his soul.

Chuck is the first Mind to create by Grace and the Word (Logos, notice the book between Dean and Castiel) and half of the first question. Abraxas: Abrahadabra: I speak, therefore I am.

Chuck would thus be (half of) the Shadow's mind in its first form, but lacks the actual essence that defines the Shadow, and the Soul. Some schools of gnostic thought believe that humans were originally created, their body forms, by the Demiurge (Chuck), but they had no souls. So the Shadow descended as a serpent, sometimes Lucifer sometimes not (I don't think SPN is doing that part--or more, as above, is using Jack, the orphic child, as Phanes), to teach them the difference between good and evil, but that forbidden fruit wasn't an apple or whatever, it was giving them a soul, because the soul is the one true good and foundation of it all.

There is no evil, there is only the absence of good.

But the acquisition of that made them more than Chuck's dream, but able to have their own.

Hope, art, dreams. Those are human things.

Yes, they are.

The soul breeds the mind, the mind perceives the body, the body shapes the experience OF the soul as perceived by the mind, and these things make our heavenly thrones, thought boxes if you will

Supernatural is actually asking the audience to ponder the meaning of life.

What about all of this is real? Is it our circumstances?

No. The where isn't significant as much as what we do with it.

What about all of our Lives is real?

People, families. We are.

This is real.

Why do we exist? What is the meaning of it all?

The meaning is what we make between each other.

Who are we when we are first born? Are we as an infant who we become? Would I be a completely different person if I lived a different chain of circumstances and knew completely different people? How many lives must I live to find my way?

Chuck wants them to believe that the Gold they have made in this world and their interpersonal relationships cannot stay. Perhaps in his world that may be true. But man and his soul and his mind is a mortal beyond the body of this world

If they break Heaven from the chains he put around it then he has no power over man. It's the same reason he sealed Amara away. He knew they were equals and he couldn't stand it.

Man has the same right to the throne that Chuck has. Only his propaganda machine and keeping people in the ecosystem of his boxes is what gives him Authority. But as Fortuna says, don't play his game. Make him play yours.

As Dean said when he threw Michael in the Box.

My mind, my rules.

In that box, Dean was God. Everyone else was just All The Same. Michael couldn't snap his fingers and nuke them all, he didn't have Chuck's given right of being a wavelength of intent across the realm.

"In this place, I'm God!" cried the mayor in Peace of Mind.

Each and every heaven box is a potential world made by man, a timeless place shuffling their greatest memories and ideas, but left empty by the lack of other souls in it. The souls remain the one true thing and he who has the most souls is god.

Man is god, end of story, Chuck's just... an architect.

And every human can be one.

Perhaps my greatest frustration in this fandom is trying to slam out post after post explaining how wall to wall this incredibly deep philosophy is, to try to point out its resounding and powerful message to an entire audience, only to be met by resistance over silly fan warring about wanting or not wanting a ship like. Honestly, I don’t care if someone doesn’t like ~Destiel~ like. Get over it. You can see it as a long series (15.09, 15.13, etc) of platonic bro marriages of the platonic bro mind for their cosmic taxes to get a discount on the loan for their galactic fucking refrigerator at this point, but you are fundamentally doing yourself an entire assed disservice on the very moral bone structure of this show to not be willing to absorb this, much less prepare for how this will usher out our ending.

I don’t care if you ship Dean with Anna or Lisa or some other ancient shit, I don’t CARE if you prefer some Cas ship from 1492, tuck all that away. Please, for the love of everything holy, try to understand these lessons that the writing crew are even using to try to help counsel everyone through the ending of a show that took up much of our lives and, beyond that, learn how to carry these lessons into the real world in a way that just might maybe make you a better person who is able to have a better experience in their life.

#supernatural #spn #meta #my meta #pagan life #amaah #amara #death #darkness #absence #dichotomy #souls #cosmogenesis #vitriol #occultum

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questionsonislam · 3 years

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What is Good Deed (amal salih)?

Good deed means “good, beautiful and beneficial act,” and “to act in accordance with Allah’s content and pleasure.”

“By the Time. Verily Man is in loss. Except such as have Faith, and do righteous deeds, and (join together) in the mutual enjoining of Truth, and of Patience and Constancy.” (The Surah Time Through Ages (Al-Àsr), 1-3)

There are a lot of verses in which good deeds are mentioned immediately after faith, in the Holy Qur’an. This is guidance and drawing attention. It is a divine warning to men, who believe in Allah, to support his belief with consciousness of adoration and acts of worship.

Another verse mentioning faith and good deed together:

”But give glad tidings to those who believe and work righteousness, that their portion is Gardens, beneath which rivers flow.” (The Heifer (Al-Baqara), 25)

It is very important that the deed should be good. The most important condition for the deed to be good is sincerity, that is to say, to expect only Allah’s pleasure as a result of that act, prayer or favor, and not to look after another benefit.

The author of Nur (Badiuzzaman Said Nursi) compares the acts without sincerity to soulless beings, to statues by saying, “sincerity is the spirit of good deeds”. Even if we gather hundreds of human statues in a place, they will not be equal to one living individual because they do not have life and spirit. All of the prayers performed for hypocrisy, material benefits or gaining appreciation are included in this group.

However, the body also has an importance apart from the spirit. The form acts as the body in a sincere prayer.

The Maghrib (evening) prayer is three rak’ats and if this prayer is performed as four rak’ats, this act becomes invalid in terms of form. Assume that that four-rak’at prayer becomes embodied, nobody would say it is Maghrib prayer. Similarly the formal condition of the fasting of Ramadan starts before the sun rise and ends after sunset. It cannot be called fasting if it starts after sunrise and ends after nightfall. In terms of form, that fasting is something different. Therefore, the format condition of prayers must be taken into consideration and prayers must be performed in the style which Allah is pleased with.

An individual could be absolved from responsibility when he fulfills the format conditions of prayers. However, prosperity and spiritual perfection gained from that prayer is compared to the sincerity, which is the spirit of prayers.

An important definition of good deed included in the Nur Collection is as follows:

“Good deed is second the most important and necessary deed after the knowledge of faith. As for good deed, it is carrying out Allah’s rights without infringing on material and immaterial rights of people.

Not to infringe on material and immaterial rights of people is included in the definition of “good deed”. At first sight, this definition may be assumed to mean taqwâ but when it is considered that there is a strong relation between taqwâ and good deeds, it is understood that this definition is also valid for good deed. A life, which is spent without infringing on both material and immaterial rights of people, is a good life.

Avoiding is taqwâ; telling the truth is good deed. Regarding the absence of worshipping as wrong is taqwâ; worshipping is good deed.

People are the slaves of Allah. It is obvious that God is not pleased with infringing on people’s rights. Our Lord does not approve of tyrannizing unbelievers, either. Then, avoiding from hurting God’s slaves, slandering, smearing, begrudging and killing them are included in the definition of good deed.

When the term ‘Allah’s rights’ is used, mostly individual’s faith and prayer life is understood. A person who has a wrong creed infringes on God’s rights ; similarly a person who does not live in accordance with his belief and does not obey God’s commands infringes on God’s rights too.

It is both disobedience to God’s rights and infringement on people’s rights to set a bad example with one’s wrong deeds

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comrade-meow · 3 years

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March 1 – Marx’s Theory of Alienation

The alienation of labour that takes place specifically in capitalist society is sometimes mistakenly described as four distinct types or forms of alienation. It is, on the contrary, a single total reality that can be analyzed from a number of different points of view. In the Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts, Marx discusses four aspects of the alienation of labour, as it takes place in capitalist society: one is alienation from the product of labour; another is alienation from the activity of labour; a third is alienation from one’s own specific humanity; and a fourth is alienation from others, from society. There is nothing mysterious about this fourfold breakdown of alienation. It follows from the idea that all acts of labour involve an activity of some sort that produces an object of some sort, performed by a human being (not a work animal or a machine) in some sort of social context.

Alienation in general, at the most abstract level, can be thought of as a surrender of control through separation from an essential attribute of the self, and, more specifically, separation of an actor or agent from the conditions of meaningful agency. In capitalist society the most important such separation, the one that ultimately underlies many, if not most other forms, is the separation of most of the producers from the means of production. Most people do not themselves own the means necessary to produce things. That is, they do not own the means that are necessary to produce and reproduce their lives. The means of production are, instead owned by a relatively few. Most people only have access to the means of production when they are employed by the owners of the means of production to produce under conditions that the producers themselves do not determine.

So alienation is not meant by Marx to indicate merely an attitude, a subjective feeling of being without control. Although alienation may be felt and even understood, fled from and even resisted, it is not simply as a subjective condition that Marx is interested in it. Alienation is the objective structure of experience and activity in capitalist society. Capitalist society cannot exist without it. Capitalist society, in its very essence, requires that people be placed into such a structure and, even better, that they come to believe and accept that it is natural and just. The only way to get rid of alienation would be to get rid of the basic structure of separation of the producers from the means of production. So alienation has both its objective and subjective sides. One can undergo it without being aware of it, just as one can undergo alcoholism or schizophrenia without being aware of it. But no one in capitalist society can escape this condition (without escaping capitalist society). Even the capitalist, according to Marx, experiences alienation, but as a “state”, differently from the worker, who experiences it as an “activity”. Marx, however, pays little attention to the capitalist’s experience of alienation, since his experience is not of the sort which is likely to bring into question the institutions that underpin that experience.

The first aspect of alienation is alienation from the product of labour. In capitalist society, that which is produced, the objectification of labour, is lost to the producer. In Marx’s words, “objectification becomes the loss of the object”. The object is a loss, in the very mundane and human sense, that the act of producing it is the same act in which it becomes the property of another. Alienation here, takes on the very specific historical form of the separation of worker and owner. That which I produced, or we produced, immediately becomes the possession of another and is therefore out of our control. Since it is out of my control, it can and does become an external and autonomous power on its own.

In making a commodity as a commodity (for the owner of the means of production) I not only lose control over the product I make, I produce something which is hostile to me. We produce it; he possesses it. His possession of what we produce gives him power over us. Not only are we talking here about the things that are produced for direct consumption. More basically, we are talking about the production of the means of production themselves. The means of production are produced by workers, but completely controlled by owners. The more we, the workers, produce, the more productive power there is for someone else to own and control. We produce someone else’s power over us. He uses what we have produced in order to wield his power over us. The more we produce, the more they have and the less we have. If I make a wage, I can work for forty or fifty years, and at the end of my life have not much more than I had at the beginning, and none of my fellow workers do either. Where has all this work gone? Some has gone into sustaining us so that we can go on working, but a great deal has gone into the expanded reproduction of the means of production, on behalf of the owners and their power. “Society” gets wealthier, but the individuals themselves do not. They do not own or control a greater proportion of the wealth.

The hostility of the product over which I relinquish my control in selling my labour – this also refers to the inhuman power of the impersonal laws of production . The laws of capitalist production have power over me. The boss, the capitalist owner himself, may simply be regarded as merely the representative of more remote, hidden, and inscrutable forces. His excuse, when he informs me that I am no longer needed, that he would have to close up the place or go broke if he didn’t do this, is no mere excuse. The capitalist himself is merely a priest who lives well off the service of capital, and not a god. When the god speaks, he too must jump, or he will find himself in my place, where god knows, no one wants to be. So, between him and me, it’s “nothing personal”. But this is exactly the problem, not an excuse.

The second aspect of alienation, alienation from the activity of labour, means that in labouring I lose control over my life-activity. Not only do I lose control over the thing I produce, I lose control over the activity of producing it. My activity is not self-expression. My activity has no relation to my desires about what I want to do, no relation with the ways I might choose to express myself, no relation with the person I am or might try to become. The only relation that the activity has with me is that it is a way of filling my belly and keeping a roof over my head. My life activity is not life-activity. It is merely the means of self-preservation and survival. In alienated labour, Marx claims, humans are reduced to the level of an animal, working only for the purpose of filling a physical gap, producing under the compulsion of direct physical need.

Alienation from my life-activity also means that my life-activity is directed by another. Somebody else, the foreman, the engineer, the head office, the board of directors, foreign competition, the world-market, the very machinery I am operating, it/they decide what and how and how long and with whom I am going to act. Somebody else also decides what will be done with my product. And I must do this for the vast majority of my waking hours on earth. What could and should be free conscious activity, and what they tell me I have contracted to do as a free worker, becomes forced labour. It is imposed by my need and by the other’s possession of the means of satisfying all needs. As a result I relate to my own activity as though it were something alien to me, as though it were not really mine, which it isn’t. I do not truly belong in this place, doing this thing over and over and over again, until I cannot even think or feel anything but the minutes ticking over until quitting time. The real me wants to be doing something.

My activity becomes the activity of another. Life comes to be split between alien work and escape from working, which for us is “leisure”. Because our own life activity becomes an alien power over our lives, activity itself gets a bad name. and we tend to avoid it when we are on our own, in our “free time”. Free time itself tends to become equated with freedom from activity, because activity is compulsion. Freedom is equated with the opposite of action and production; freedom is consumption, or just passive, mindless “fun”, or just blowing off steam. Only in class society is there such an equation of activity with pain and of leisure with inactivity or sloth, for activity under alienated labour is not self-expression but self-denial. All our capacities are parceled out into marketable skills. We talk about “human resources” or youth as “our most precious resource”, all of which pseudo-humanist jargon expresses the same reality, that human labour is turned into a commodity to be bought and sold like any other.

As this civilization moves on we get, of course, an ever finer and more detailed separation of hand and brain, of sense and intelligence, manifested in the truncated capacities of both masters and wage-slaves. Some people are likely to spend their entire lives developing the capacity to locate defects in the ends of cans. This becomes their forced contribution to the human species. And it is in this sense that we are not without cause, in the latest stages of capitalism, of thinking of ourselves as appendages of a machine. In a sense, capitalism involves a devolution even behind the work-animal. At least the work-animal is an enslaved total organism. Even a tool or a slave can be used to carry out many different things. But by the time you get to the highest stage of capitalism, human functions can be more dehumanized than that of a tool: you become the appendage of a machine, just part of a tool, a cog in the vast machine of production.

By many routes, then, alienation from the product and from the activity of labour lead up to and involve alienation in its third aspect, alienation from the self or from the human essence. It is not only the product that becomes an alien power. It is not only that self-development becomes self-denial. Internally related to these others is a loss of self. To alienate my labour-power, to be forced to sell it as a commodity on the market, is to lose my life-activity, which is my very self. It is to become other than myself. Sometimes we speak innocently enough of being beside ourselves or feeling remote from ourselves; or sometimes we use the language of the search for identity and authenticity, of not knowing who we are or not recognizing who we’ve become. From a Marxian point of view, we are talking about something social and historical rather than something metaphysical or existential. At a deeper level still, the sense of loss of identity or loss of meaning is an expression, but one still alienated itself, of our real loss of humanity, alienation from the human “species-being”, as Marx sometimes calls it. This is one thing Marxists mean when they talk about de-humanization.

There is a further aspect of alienation from self which Marx pays little attention to in his later work, but which receives some mention in the Manuscripts and remains important at an implicit level. And it is perhaps most appropriate to discuss it in relation to alienation from self. This further aspect is alienation from sensuousness. Marx conceives of the history of human labour as, among other things, a formation of the human senses themselves. The human senses are not passive mechanisms, a blank slate on which the world leaves its mark more or less clearly and strongly. Marx understands sense perception itself to be the outcome of a process of the labour of a historical subject. The sensuous forms in which we perceive things and their relations is therefore the product of the history of an active subject. The sense themselves are not given, once and for all, but open to education, broadening, refining, formation and re-formation.

If the senses themselves are a product of the process of human collective self-constitution, it is meaningful to speak of an alienation of sensuousness. In capitalist society, our life activity is alienated. As a result we engage in inherently sensuous activities, but in an alienated fashion, almost exclusively, that is, for non-sensuous, extrinsic, extraneous purposes. In order to satisfy virtually any need, we must in capitalist society, work through the medium of money. Most of the things we do, we do in order to make money or to put ourselves in the position to make money, or improve our capacities to make money. There is very little, if anything that a human being could imagine wanting, that is not offered to us as a possible object of a cash transaction. Thus the things with which we are engaged are never approached with an eye to either their own intrinsic value or to their human value in a broader sense. We do not relate most of the time to most things in terms of their intrinsically sensuous and aesthetic reality. The imperatives of capitalist society thus enter into our conscious and semi-conscious experience even at the level of sense and perception itself. We are taught to literally see and feel things as utilities, as abstract counters in the process of making still more money. We become alienated from what Marx calls our subjective human sensibilities. Our senses are not so much animalized or brutalized as they are mechanized. If our life-activity were our own, this would necessarily involve the intensive cultivation of our capacity for aesthetic appreciation of sensuous reality. Humans are, after all, according to Marx, the only species that can produce in conscious appreciation of the laws of beauty. Under alienated labour, sense experience becomes a modifiable sign for things and relations that can be turned into money, the sign of all things. Because our activity is degraded to the level of mechanical subservience to crude needs, or, in reaction to that we perhaps become aesthetes, we regard everything only from the standpoint of the use it can be put. Or we come to attach a perception of beauty or aesthetic value to that which commands a high price. We can be impressed with the supposed aesthetic value of something because it is expensive.

This relation to everything, even the objects of sense and beauty, in terms of its usefulness to the expanded reproduction of capital means we no longer have an eye for the thing itself. Oriented mainly to pieces of the world whose monetary value means that they are essentially interchangeable, we are brought that much more easily to relate to ourselves and each other in this way. We begin to evaluate ourselves and each other in terms of the amount of money we can make. Or parts of ourselves can be ranked in such terms. We are less able, if still able, to perceive and appreciate the intrinsic qualities of anything, even including ourselves. This dehumanization of the senses, and of perception and of judgement, is not something accidental to the dehumanization of humans.

We are thus led to the fourth aspect, alienation from other people, or from society. Once the traditional community (which understood itself as natural) is broken down, human beings become essentially potentially useful or threatening objects. One can now have enemies in a new sense. Only with the breakdown of primitive communism does man become a wolf to man. “Man is a wolf to man” (homo homini lupus ) was one of Hobbes’s favourite sayings. “Wolflike” behaviour can and does occur in “primitive” societies and between such societies, but it is not the principle of those societies. It does become the central and organizing principle of class societies. In the market it is hard to say that the antagonism of classes becomes more severe, but the antagonism among individuals certainly increases. Now, according to Marx, “human nature” must be grasped as “the ensemble of social relations”. It is not simply our neuro-physiological constitution or our DNA that makes us behave or act selfishly. We live, according to Marx, in a society in which each individual must see in every other, not the possibility of his liberty, but its limitation. Every other becomes an obstacle to me, but – and this is important too – a needed obstacle, a customer, a client, a creditor, a debtor, an employer or employee. (We haven’t even come up with a better replacement for patriarchalist terms such as husband and wife than “partner” – which suggests nothing so much as a boardroom full of lawyers). The other is a rival. It is not that cooperation here is impossible. In fact we learn to coordinate our activities on an ever more grand scale and complex level. It is that this cooperation can only take place as the coincidence of separate and competing “enlightened” self-interests.

In feudal society, or in Aristotle’s polis, one’s life-activity was directly determined by one’s pre-ordained social status. Along with this, however, came a solidary bond integrating the occupants of the various strata. The lord-peasant relationship was a direct, personal bond of two-way loyalty and duty (and even affection). The exploitation of the peasant was an integral part of a patriarchal relation. Even though the solidarity of such societies was a pseudo-solidarity, a solidarity based upon exploitation, it was still a solidarity. What the market society does is to relentlessly smash the patriarchal links between lord and peasant. Each individual is to be thrown upon his own resources in order to make his fortune or not, as the case may be. The market society severs the patriarchal link between lord and peasant, lord and lord, peasant and peasant, and substitutes for it the cash nexus. For the personal relationship is substituted one of personal indifference. The bottom line of the contractual relationship is cash. Previously the worker worked for the community either directly or in personal subservience to his superior, and the subservience of labour was an essential feature of a community felt to have the unity of an organism. Previously it was assumed that community was only possible as the subordination of one social organ to another.

Now, however, my work is not service. Now I work for money, which I will spend any damn way I feel like. As a result, for Marx, although this is in one way a less illusory of living, since it doesn’t need to depend on religious or mythical foundations to justify an explicit and clear hierarchy, in another way it is more illusory. My freedom is largely only in appearance. In reality my life-activity is still given up to a superior who is a superior, even though he is formally and by law my equal. In his later work, Marx will especially concentrate on the fact that everything is translated into money terms, and that all relations are mediated by money. In capitalist society, he says, “everyone carries the social bond in his pocket.”

Although Marx does not in the 1844 Manuscripts make the point directly and explicitly, there is a direct connection between Marx’s thoughts on alienation from society and his critique of the state. Those who wish to follow this theme further should read On the Jewish Question. For Marx, the existence of the state implies what we could call a political alienation. Often the Marxian notion of the abolition or the withering away of the state is met by the sort of puzzled reaction one might reserve for the abolition of the sun, moon and stars. But Marx would not call the operation of something like Rousseau’s general will a state. The form of direct self-government comprised in the idea of the sovereignty of the general will would not be considered a state form. The state, according to Marx, is the set of institutions that arises in order to hold together a society that is continually falling apart. The state is a function of other, deeper social antagonisms that are in principle corrigible. It is a function of the universal individual antagonisms of class societies, but especially a function of class division itself, and of the possibility of open class antagonism. The state is a necessary means of coercion and coordination once society can no longer hold itself together by other means, or before it has learned how to do so once again.

The state is an integral part of class society, not something apart from or beyond it; not something neutral and capable of standing disinterestedly above all particular interests. Whereas theorists like Hegel would argue that in the modern state individuals were in actual reality reconciled and unified, Marx maintains that the state is necessary only because of the real antagonisms class societies generate and sustain among individuals. Nor do individuals in the modern, liberal or even democratic-capitalist state really find a community of equals. Instead, in the state, they come together to deny the inequality and separateness that is their real existence in social and economic life. Their coming together in the political community of the state is thus an illusion, because they are separated in fact. The solidarity of earlier, more organic forms of society is supposedly recovered, in bourgeois society, in the political relationship of free and equal citizens. But this is a pseudo-solidarity, given the lie by the many substantial inequalities outside the formal equality established by constitutional law, and by the fact that the powerful within the private sphere have the power to reach out and have the state work primarily in their fundamental interests. As the French writer, Anatole France once said, “the law, in its majestic equality, forbids rich and poor alike from begging alms, stealing bread and sleeping under bridges.” It is only because in real life people are alienated from one another through the cash nexus that is increasingly the only thing that connects them, that they must solidarize in an ideal and false unity a formally equal citizens.

Here the notion of an “inverted” or “double” world appears that will become important later on in Marx’s notion of “commodity fetishism”. As a corrective to, and also as a mystification of, a contradictory reality, a supplementary but illusory reality is invented and, as it were, laid on top of the first. What is illusory is not the actual power of the state, but the notions that the state is the only thing that can hold a society of human beings together, and that it can do this while sustaining and expressing the freedom and equality of all its citizens. The state is just such an illusory reality, existing by virtue of the misperception that the antagonisms of bourgeois society are the natural and inevitable, eternal and essential antagonisms of human beings as such. And, in truth, it is a necessary and real illusion – to bourgeois society. Thus, the state cannot be abolished, as some anarchists would have it, by the fiat of individuals. The abolition of the state depends on the prior transformation and abolition of class society. The state functions essentially to maintain society in its present form, as a society based upon class divisions rooted in the way material life is produced and reproduced. But the abolition of class society and its state would not mean the disappearance of differences or of the need for politics. If anything politics would be more prevalent than ever (as opposed to the administration of a subject population) – if what we mean by politics is something like individuals communicating and acting together to resolve conflicts between human needs and social conditions. The existence of processes through which individuals decide upon common policies and common action is not what Marx would call the state.

#Anglo.txt

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darkkitsuneprincess · 4 years

Text

Kitsune (Kitsune!Mitsuhide x MC)

So, I started on this some months back because I couldn’t get the thought out of my head, then stalled because I started second-guessing myself. Then Cybird announced that they’re finally (FINALLY!!!!) giving us everybody’s favorite snek [the anticipation is @#(%(* KILLING ME]. I got excited. I squeed. And, well, I smutted.

This one is kinda long. I have no idea what the hell I was thinking. I’d apologize, but I’m really not sorry.

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Title: Kitsune Pairing: Mitsuhide x MC Rating: E (Very NSFW) Word Count: ~8500

Description: The illicit affair between Mitsuhide and MC is interrupted by one of his new ventures. Upon his return, she learns the truth of both her pet and her lover.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

He entered through the open door like a phantom on swift, silent footsteps. The air pressure changed, pulling my shoulders upward and drawing my awareness to the open space behind me. The only true indication that I was no longer alone came from the lingering scents of cinnamon and gunpowder embedded in his clothes. I carefully lay my sewing to the side, my hands slick and shaking.

“Mitsuhide,” I said without turning, thankful my voice remained steady.

It could be no one else; Lord Mitsuhide was the only man who would stalk the halls of the castle so late, much less come into my room uninvited. Though uninvited was a bit of a misstatement. I left my door open with one intention only: to tempt him inside.

This relationship—strained at best in civilized company and little more than carnal in private—was beyond the niceties of social station when we were alone.

“Princess,” he replied, his voice flat so as to wield the honorific like a weapon.

His voice echoed to me from across the room, covering the sound of the door sliding closed, but in the next instant fingers slid down my spine through the layers of my clothing. On their ascent, those fingertips turned to a palm, pressed flat between my shoulder blades, which urged me forward until my face and chest lay flush against the table.

Thus began the ritual of mutual pleasure.

It started a few months after my sudden arrival in Azuchi of the past, once news circulated of my position as a hostage delivered by the Satori clan to Oda Nobunaga. Lord Nobunaga, while distant and unfeeling in his position as rising Shogun to the new order of Japan, took me in and gave me the honor of “Princess” in his home while continuing his conquest of the remainder of the big island. His closest allies gathered months before I arrived, and though they have come and gone about their business, one has remained constant.

The white-haired demon—a negotiator and spy for our Lord—began this affair with barbed words and teasing phrases in passing, which turned to uninvited touches and whispered words of seduction. When he discovered that I’d kept his confidence regarding these interludes, he appeared at my door late one evening, letting himself in unannounced but not entirely unwanted. There truly was valor in discretion, it seemed.

He and I had danced around one another for three months, our battle tactics vastly different yet similar enough that each could anticipate the other’s next move…until that night he came to me in search of pleasure.

Cold fingers rested atop my head while I sat with my sewing in my lap, drawing a shiver of anticipation out of me. He said nothing at all; only moved his hand down the column of my throat to my shoulders and lower, to my hip. My body grew hot and my head fuzzy when the warmth of his body pressed against my back. With swift, silent movements he positioned me as he wanted me. When he took me, I came apart in his arms.

After that first visit, enacted entirely without sound, I began leaving my door open on evenings when I desired company. Mitsuhide, reading the intent in that action, would come to me late in the evenings when all others would retire and take pleasure from my body.

His actions held no affection that I could recognize; only the desire a man holds for a woman’s body. I allowed his touch, so desperate was I for human interaction. His years as the Left Hand of the Devil King taught him how to read me as well as he would a book and he used that knowledge to his advantage. Though he was cold at best, he was not without great ability. His deft fingers knew what touches made me cry out. He understood well how to use his body to make mine beg. Just his presence created a familiar ache of need.

Mitsuhide gathered the layers of my kimono in his long, slender fingers and, adjusting his own clothing so as to free himself, he took me without preamble in one swift, smooth thrust.

I bit down into my own sleeve to stifle the unladylike moan his ministrations sought to bring out of me, only to discover an equally primal sound clawing its way out of him. The sound both thrilled and frightened me. As many times as he’d come to me—and there had been many—he never made a sound except to respond to my greeting. To know I’d caused that sound after all this time was as intoxicating as the undulation of his hips when he moved inside me.

I put aside my growing feelings for him and gave myself over to the pleasure of his touch; allowed Mitsuhide to use my body as a tool, bringing both of us to swift and powerful release.

A quiet grunt escaped him as he pulled away and adjusted his clothing. My kimono fell back in place a moment later, hiding the evidence of our union. Were anyone to enter, they would be no wiser.

I did not rise; did not turn. I lay against the table, my body spent and my breath a stuttered series of gasps, as my door slid open and closed again.

***

I received word the next morning that Mitsuhide had left in the early hours of the morning, which meant I would not see him again for many days. My heart beat harder in my chest for his absence; my eyes burned. I wondered, as I often did, if last night’s visit would truly be the last.

The castle’s maids whispered of rumors that our lord had sent him once again to uncover information of dubious origin, which came as no surprise. There seemed to always be a new threat, a new and unseen danger threatening our Lord’s precarious hold on this war-torn land and Mitsuhide always ended up on the front lines, back lines, and all the lines in between. And no matter how many times my secret lover and his vassals moved to quell a new uprising, another always seemed to take its place.

I paced the hallways for days after his reported departure, mourning the loss of his presence. Though his affection was cold and sparing at best, I craved it just as I craved air to breathe. The days themselves were consumed by my sewing and other duties, but my nights… my nights were lonelier now than ever before.

At night, the unseasonable heat of the early Kyoto spring drove me out of my room and into the garden. The peace I’d always found by coming here turned to loneliness as I mourned something I wasn’t completely sure I’d had to begin with.

Yet I walked among the rows, feeling the soft breeze which fluttered through the rows of prematurely blooming sakura trees, their blooms lending a gentle perfume to the night air. I made my way to the small reflecting pond and, tucking my kimono carefully beneath me, took a seat to watch the crescent moon dance across the still surface.

My attention lost focus, my mind drifting once again to Mitsuhide and his forbidden touch. It was wrong of me to want him; more wrong still to even dare to think I could love him. Our Lord often compared him to the kitsune, swift and sly, and rarer still than the touch of the gods themselves.

Movement along the garden’s far wall drew my attention, pulling me from my melancholy ponderings, but there was nothing there. I watched the line of blooming flowers for any sign that I wasn’t alone, dipping back into the land of daydreams while wishing desperately that the moment came from the man whose attentions I craved.

The moon kissed the garden’s walls when I finally rose and returned to my room, exhausted and lonelier than I could ever remember being.

***

I walked the halls of the manor for several more days, noticeably out of sorts even to myself. No amount of Masamune’s joking or Hideyoshi’s mothering could bring a smile to my face. Ieyasu’s sour tone resonated more and more with each passing day to the point when even Mitsunari’s perpetual happiness grated on my nerves. The maids had begun to compare me to Ieyasu in hushed whispers, but I couldn’t find the wherewithal to care. If I were honest with myself and everyone around me, I would admit it was due to the absence of Mitsuhide, but I refused to admit the truth. I’d left my door open until I could no longer keep awake, but he still had yet to come home.

Nobunaga relieved me of my duties to keep me away from the rest of his household staff and sequestered me to my room with fresh books from the latest group of missionaries and my few outstanding sewing commissons. By the end of the day I’d finished the first book and set out to return it to the castle library when the rumors came from the kitchen girls that Mitsuhide had returned from this new adventure late last evening, and my heart gave a painful twist at the thought that he had not graced me with his presence.

Cold and sparing as it was, I craved his attention. I wanted to know that he thought of me as often as I of him. Even passing in the hallways, he scarcely spoke to me except to tease me, but the look in those ever-changing, quicksilver eyes was one of tenderness. Affection, almost. If I were a lesser person, I’d have believed he used those interactions as an excuse to touch me.

I knew the truth, though. He was not, and had never claimed to be, a good man. He was savage and brutal, but I craved his attention. When he was present, I struggled to avoid his verbal torment despite the fact that I often sought him out.

But it was his stark absence that truly made my heart ache.

I moved through the remainder of the day and into the evening without seeing or hearing much, so the decision to enter the gardens that evening was also not a conscious one. It wasn’t until I was seated under the sakuras, watching the breeze gently ripple the surface of the reflecting pool, that I thought about my location. It was quiet here, peacefully removed from the bustle of the castle, and for the first time in days, my chest didn’t ache. Perhaps the wounds were healing in his absence. With time, I thought, I may even be able to love another. I had any number of suitors from which to choose.

A soft chittering sound interrupted the silence, drawing my attention to the wall beyond the reflecting pool. What I found in the darkness was not at all what I expected.

It started as a flicker of white in the dark tangle of bushes, accompanied by a snuffling and finally the appearance of a small animal. It was a fox, I realized; snow white with silver-blue eyes and a wide, bushy tail. It sat at the edge of the pool and stared at me, its tail wrapped around his front paws. It remained immobile, and I made no move to go to it. We remained locked in this impasse for over an hour before the creature, as if realizing it had wasted so much time, rose and turned back into the bushes. It paused just before disappearing and glanced back at me.

There was intelligence in those eyes that shook me to my core.

Taking that as my signal to return to my room, I rose and slipped back into the hallway surrounding the garden. That night as I fell asleep, I did so thinking of that beautiful fox and its intelligent eyes.

***

Another day passed and though word came that he had taken an audience with our Nobunaga, Mitsuhide still did not come to me. His continued absence tore at my heart, reminding me in the harshest of ways that I was little more than a cure for boredom in his eyes. I told myself again and again his attention meant nothing, but I felt the lie like a barb in my heart each time it passed through my mind.

It meant something to me.

That night, I returned to the garden, taking up my seat beside the reflecting pond to clear my head. Slowly, the tension of the day left and my shoulders sagged forward, exhaustion claiming my senses.

A tiny, familiar sound drew my attention. When I looked up, my vulpine friend sat beneath the raining sakuras. The sight of the little animal brought a smile to my face. I held out my hand to him. He closed the space between us silently, no longer afraid of me, and pressed his tiny, white head against my outstretched fingers. Those intelligent eyes looked up at me, and when his tail moved, I nearly fell backwards in surprise. His one tail was actually…seven.

“Y-you are kitsune?” I asked, and the way the animal looked at me, its head canted to the left and its snout upturned, told me that not only did it understand me, it agreed with my assessment. My heart leapt into my throat when it slinked over and placed itself in my lap, curling up with its head against my knee and going to sleep.

I sat there silently, the weight of this revelation causing my heart to stutter as I stroked the sleeping god’s soft, downy fur. The small, repetitive motion helped to clear my head of anything but its presence, and when I found myself nodding against the tree, I lifted the kitsune into my arms and took it with me back to my futon where it nestled down beside me and returned easily to its slumber.

Night after night it returned to my side and lay against me as I slept. The ache in my heart eased, replaced by a newfound affection for the creature. I found myself thinking of Mitsuhide after that, not in loneliness but instead as if he were the animal which had taken up residence in my heart. He’d been called many things in my time there – oni, kitsune, snake… yet I couldn’t reconcile the gentle animal in my arms with the man who kept my heart in a vise.

My spirits improved and as the days passed, I began to return to a version of my former self. The others resumed their teasing affections. I began to smile again. I did not speak of my nightly visitor to anyone; no one would have believed me.

So it remained my secret, which I allowed to fill the void in my chest.

***

On the ninth day following Mitsuhide’s return, I woke to find the kitsune gone and a maid fetching me to visit the inner quarters of the tenshu after council, where Lord Nobunaga sat at his desk, head bent into his work. I tapped my fingers against the wood frame of the shōji and slid it to the side while announcing my arrival. Still he did not look up from the papers in his hands.

“I have messages which need delivering,” Nobunaga said by way of greeting. “Several of them. I trust you know the way.” After all this time, I’d not reached the level of friendly banter with him that I had with most of the others. His presence intimidated me.

“Yes, my lord,” I replied and swept the bundle of letters from the corner of his desk.

“One more thing.” he said as I made to leave. I turned back and he motioned to the table beside the door. “That package is for Mitsuhide. Take it when you go.”

“Yes, my Lord.” I said again though I wanted to question him. It was unlike Mitsuhide to not keep quarters in the Manor given recent tensions with a few of the local Daimyōs. His continued absence gave me pause and, given the lateness in the day, I found myself concerned for my return safety.

The clearing of Nobunaga’s throat told me I’d remained immobile longer than he felt was appropriate. “Mitsuhide is expecting what’s inside that package, so I suggest you make haste.”

“Yes, my Lord,” I repeated and swept it under my arm beside his letters before exiting the room. The shōji slid closed behind me and I released a shudder. The maids and pages swore Nobunaga showed great affection for me, which, given the intensity of each encounter with him made me question his dislike. He showed no affection at all.

***

I made quick work of my letter deliveries despite the insistence of hospitality by those in receipt. Lord Nobunaga’s most trusted Daimyōs were never anything less than considerate where I was concerned. I often found myself daydreaming all manner of romantic intrigue starring each of these handsome men, yet my body and, inexplicably, my heart belonged to the least available man in our Lord’s assorted collection.

Having finally extricated myself from Masamune’s impromptu banquet and subsequent attempt at seduction, I turned toward the outskirts of town, a concerned eye cast toward both the setting sun and the gathering clouds overhead. It was already late in the day and the air itself felt heavy with the threat of rain. Leaving the delivery to Mitsuhide for last meant the longest walk back to the Manor and was, in retrospect, a foolish idea. I found myself torn, however, between want of his company and anxiety at seeing him after so many days without one of his nightly visits. He rarely kept an audience in his own home since becoming Nobunaga’s “left hand”, so to speak, which made me wonder yet again if my presence might be the reason for his extended absence.

By the time I reached Mitsuhide’s manor, clouds completely obscured the sun; dark, heavy orbs that promised more than just rain.

***

He knelt at his desk, silver head bent over some piece of correspondence. In his pale left hand he held a brush, marking down notes in his perfect, precise writing. Should I not have intimate knowledge of his corporeal form, I might have thought him a ghost in his perfect paleness.

Mitsuhide did not acknowledge my presence as I crossed the room, bowing formally despite his inattention, to place the package on his desk. When he made no move to speak, I turned to leave, a curious mixture of relief and disappointment coursing through me as I reached the door.

“The Princess certainly is in a hurry tonight,” he said, his smooth, deep voice startling me and causing me to misstep. Grasping the door frame, I managed to right myself before I tumbled to the floor. “My, my…she is quite the clumsy one as well.”

“Fool,” I snapped, berating myself under my breath.

“What was that?” he asked, humor and irritation battling for dominance in his voice. “Did you say something?” Mitsuhide rose from his desk, his head lilting to one side as he studied me. He drifted closer, his movements a smooth, graceful flow that also lent themselves to his spectral image. The look in his eyes—pure derision—made me want to scream at him, to let out this toxic swirl of emotions he caused inside me. I craved his touch, yet I wanted desperately to escape him. So potent was my confusion that I found myself incapable of moving despite the lack of physical restraint.

“I just stumbled a bit is all. I will be going now.”

“Stay.” The single word echoed across the room as an order.

I paused, rooted to the spot by his command as he stepped up behind me, his large, cold hands landing on my shoulders and sliding along my arms. He leaned down, his breath tickling over the fine hairs which had slipped loose from my bun. His touch was so familiar, yet so foreign.

“You are quite entertaining tonight, little mouse,” he said. His lips slid along the curve of my neck, not quite touching yet igniting a trail of fire over my skin. I shivered, torn between wanting him and wanting to push him away.

“I should leave,” my traitorous tongue offered.

Mitsuhide released me immediately, his hands falling away as he took a step back. “Yes,” he replied, voice flat and wholly without affect. Whatever spell he’d begun to weave was broken.

I could not meet his eyes as I fled his room.

I ran down the hall as fast as my sandals would allow, the hard, wooden soles clacking loudly in the empty halls. The sun was completely gone from sight, and as I reached the door the first bolt of lightning streaked across the sky.

“No…” I said aloud, the word leaving me in a gasp as I slid to a halt. There would no way I would make it home in this weather. I wouldn’t even make it to Masamune’s manor, though it was the closest.

Panic set in, and I began to wonder if perhaps Nobunaga had organized this event himself. After all, if any one man were capable of successfully ordering the sky to rain, it would be him.

A gust of wind and a peal of thunder greeted me as the sky split wide and rain began to pour. Embarrassment heated my cheeks as I thought of returning to Mitsuhide and begging sanctuary for the night. Going out in the storm in search of shelter at Masamune’s home almost seemed preferable to offering an apology to the deviant trickster, because even with an apology there was no guarantee he would not turn me out anyway.

In the face of a second bolt of lightning, I took a breath and prepared to step out into the deluge.

Hands wound around my waist, jarring a scream out of me as I was pulled back against a firm, lean body—one I knew very well.

“Surely you were not thinking of going out in this storm,” he said, one hand sliding up my body, between the valley of my breasts, to close around my throat. Long, cold fingers gripped my skin, squeezing just enough to partially constrict my airway. My heart raced, my pulse fluttering wildly against the hands that held me captive.

“You know full well Lord Nobunaga would separate my head from my shoulders if I allowed his lucky charm to catch her death in the rain.”

“It’s warm enough,” I choked out against the pressure of his palm on my windpipe. I did not want to go out in the storm, but I saw no other option. I wanted to give in to this new game of his even less. “I’m not afraid.”

Even though I wanted him.

“Be that as it may, I quite enjoy living.”

Mitsuhide lifted me by the waist as if I weighed nothing and backed away from the door. I watched, mortified and furious, as my freedom shrank away in a flash of lightning and rain.

“Let me go, Mitsuhide,” I demanded. He laughed in response, a bitter, violent sound.

“No.”

“Now.”

“No.”

He backed down the hall, allowing me to see the still open door, until we reached the bend in the hallway. He turned then, carrying me back into his room where he dropped me unceremoniously to the floor before returning to his desk.

“Pretend to be obedient and stay there,” he said, lifting his brush and sweeping it through the prepared ink once more.

“Why?”

“Obedient girls are rewarded,” he replied without looking at me. “Now be quiet.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll sew those pretty lips shut.”

I did not doubt for a moment that he would. Knowing his profession—spy, assassin, trickster…he carried many names and many insults upon his unflappable person, and he did so in the name of our Lord’s “greater good”—I trusted that whatever horrible thing fell from his mouth would be the unwavering truth. Yet something about him still brought out the worst in me.

Defiant, I rose from the floor and straightened my disheveled kimono, paying close attention to the collar which had come loose under his hand.

“I do not recall giving you permission to move,” he said, still not looking at me.

“I did not ask.”

This time he did look at me, that thin smile dancing on his lips but not reaching his cruel eyes. He looked like a man on the hunt and I fought the urge to run, not wishing to end up his prey.

Never run from a wild animal. That will make it chase you.

“You must not want your reward, Princess.”

“You have nothing I want.”

His lips curled tighter, his smile widening as humor danced in his fool’s-gold eyes. “How cute,” he said, lying his brush to the side and rising in a fluid, graceful motion. He seemed to float across the floor rather than walk, coming toward me with that same dark, hungry expression I’d seen before. “Though you and I both know that is quite the monumental lie.”

I took a step back. “But it is my lie to tell,” I said, retreating further in the face of his advance. He stalked me like a predator, smooth with a focused intensity that made me question everything about this moment. “And so long as I do not admit the lie, it remains the truth.”

Mitsuhide paused, his smile sharpening. “Such sass…”

“What can I say? You bring out the best in me.”

He laughed. “It seems my pet has found her claws.” The humor—short-lived as it was—melted from his eyes and he closed the remaining distance between us. My back found purchase yet again against the wall and he crowded into my personal space. That liquid silver gaze bored into me, his scimitar grin sharpened by the contempt in his eyes. He leaned close to my ear, his breath whispering over my skin as he spoke.

“What is it you desire of me?”

He did not touch me, yet I could feel the heat of his body radiating through the layers of my kimono. I could smell his skin—a heady mix of gunpowder and rain—and my belly quivered, my body craving his touch. My heart hammered against my ribcage as Mitsuhide held me captive between his body and the wall, still without placing his hands on me. I cast my gaze downward, the smooth, pale skin of his chest behind his parted kimono filling my vision.

A body completely without color in his skin, I thought, fascinated and terrified by the power emanating from him. My mind drifted back to the small animal in the gardens, its snow-white fur brightly reminiscent of his body.

“I asked you a question, Princess,” he said, closing the last bit of distance between our bodies. Mitsuhide placed one hand on either side of my head, caging me against the wall, and leaned into me, his body brushing mine as he breathed. One knee slipped between my legs, his muscular thigh adding a delicious new pressure to my center. A wanton moan escaped my throat and he responded with a chittering growl, the sound both foreign and familiar. When I forced myself to look back into his pale eyes, I realized exactly why.

“Kitsune…” I gasped as I recognized the familiar silver eyes of my seven-tailed companion sitting deep in his face. For an instant, his sculpted façade slipped and I saw the surprise behind it. Then the veil fell neatly back into place just as quickly and his lips curled back into that savage smile. For all my daydreaming, I never thought it would actually be true.

“Bold words, he said, his voice carrying a new edge. He flexed his thigh against me, drawing another inappropriate sound from my throat. “Potentially foolish words.”

“Foolish that I should figure out your secret?” I replied, emboldened by this knew knowledge. My heart swelled in my chest as I thought of Mitsuhide sleeping peacefully at my side night after night, his true form revealed to me. I stared back at him, unashamed. “You’ve come to me night after night when you’d have me believe you were avoiding me.” His eyes narrowed at my words. “I would argue that my deduction is actually quite clever. Kitsune.” The word came out with more conviction this time; the connection between this man and the pale animal which frequented the gardens was tenuous at best, yet once it made itself, it could not be broken. He stared at me with the same intelligent curiosity as the animal. The taste of his scent on the back of my tongue as I inhaled worked to further the notion in my mind.

Mitsuhide released me, backing away in a hasty retreat. He could not hide the surprise that I’d figured it out.

“Are you going to deny it?” I questioned, pushing away from the wall and following behind. Now that I knew, I needed to hear the truth. “You have never once been honest with me, Mitsuhide. Now would be a good time to start if you ever expect me to speak to you again.”

His expression turned cold and hard when he glanced back over his shoulder at me. “It is but one of the many things I have been called, little one.”

“Even when you refuse to come to me, you have still maintained your visits,” I continued, wildly wondering how far I could push him before he struck me down. I had no proof save this instinct. Still I followed him across the room, stopping just short of touching him as he stepped up to the open garden door. And as much as I wanted it to be him, part of me prayed I was wrong.

“My, you are quite brave to corner an animal,” he responded, turning to stare down at me.

“I do not fear you,” I lied.

“You should.”

“Why?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Animals are dangerous.”

“You are not.”

“Then you are as naive as you are beautiful.” He advanced on me as my feet carried me backwards, halting only when his arm went around my waist and his mouth was a hairsbreadth from mine. His sake-sweetened breath slid over my lips as he spoke.

“I ask you again, Princess, what do you want of me?”

My mouth opened and closed, yet I was incapable of sound. The proper words with which to verbalize my comingled desire and fear eluded me, dancing just out of reach of my tongue. His presence—the scent of his skin, the heat of his body—overwhelmed my senses.

“Why the hesitation, little one?” I felt the curve of his smile against my lips. “You were so bold only a moment ago.”

I remained still under the weight of his presence, fighting the urge to sway into him and make that simple contact I both feared and craved.

“I…I want you to love me.”

Laugher was not the reaction I expected. Mitsuhide’s long fingers lifted to graze the side of my face before tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“Do not laugh at me,” I said, my voice cracking.

What makes you think I was laughing at you, little mouse?”

Those steely eyes bored into mine, but when he smiled, his gaze softened. My sinuses burned with the same shame that heated my cheeks. He made me feel so small and helpless.

“I told you the truth,” I replied. “And you laughed. What else am I supposed to believe but that it was at my expense?”

I closed my eyes against the sensation of his fingers sliding through my hair and willed my pulse to slow.

“You are truly an entertaining creature,” Mitsuhide said. “You dare to call out the true form of an immortal being. You demand the truth from one known to tell nothing but lies. Yet all you ask for is my love.”

Shivers of anticipation danced along my spine. His presence, the scent of his skin, the sound of his voice…I was so lost to the spell he cast that I could no longer deny my love for him. Though, there was a lingering hardness in the way he looked at me that made me question whether or not I should even be here.

“Little mouse…”

“Does Nobunaga know?” I asked, stopping whatever he intended to say. He froze and the room chilled from the sudden tension emanating from him.

“No.”

I closed my eyes and released a breath.

“Why,” he asked, drawing my attention back, “when given the opportunity to ask a favor from a god—particularly one whose secret only you know—do you ask for the one thing you already have?”

A faltering breath fell from my lips as the reality of his words settled around me.

“Y-you…” My bottom lip quivered as I stared up into those ever-changing, quicksilver eyes. “But you act like you despise me.”

That signature smirk returned to his lips. “I do no such thing.”

“You look down your nose at me like I’m stupid. Your gaze tells me you have nothing but contempt for me.”

“Not you, little one. For myself.”

“You tease me. You lie to me. You—”

“—come to you every night I am able,” he finished for me. “I believed I could keep my distance from you, my alluring little seamstress.” His fingers continued their conquest of my body, tickling down my neck and over my shoulder, then along the line of my arm to twine with mine. “It is unfair of me to draw you into my life,” Mitsuhide continued. He lifted my hand up between us and pressed his lips to the back of my knuckles, sending a frisson of pleasure down my arm. “Yet I discovered a uniquely frustrating inability to stay away from you.”

“Mitsuhide…”

“Let me finish,” he replied, harsher than either of us expected. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he quickly recovered his placid expression. “I came to you with the intent of satiating a hunger—a hunger you and I have shared for quite some time if your open door is any indication.”

The tears I’d fought for so long slipped over my cheeks, leaving thin, wet tracks along my face that Mitsuhide wiped away with the fingertips of his free hand. “But you never…”

“Never what?”

“You never spoke. You never made a sound until…” my voice trailed away to little more than a whisper when I managed to speak again, “…until that last time.”

“Mmm…yes.” Mitsuhide blinked; another action I could not consciously remember ever seeing. “As long as there was no verbal interaction put to this, I believed that you and I could keep from speaking its true name.”

“Even if you made no noise at all, I would know it was you.”

“And I, you,” he admitted, though to do so appeared physically painful. “I thought the physical release would purge the desire for you from my mind.”

“But it had the opposite effect.”

“Yes. And knowing I would be leaving you again for an undisclosed amount of time was surprisingly difficult. There was, as always, the chance I may not return.”

“With seven tails, surely you’re old enough to know how to escape any situation.”

His lips curled at the corners and a new sparkle came into his eye. “You are not wrong, little mouse. But my work, as you know, is not for the faint of heart.” Mitsuhide’s knuckles brushed over the arch of my cheek, just the faintest whisper of skin on skin. “And to think that my death could break your heart reminded me just how cruel I’d been to you.”

“Then why come back to me at all?”

An expression of incredulity passed across his delicate features. Mitsuhide had never appeared more ethereal—more inhuman—than he did in that moment. “Surely you are able to parse the answer to that from the conversation we’ve already had.”

“And now you’re teasing me again.”

“Of course. Would you expect any less of me?”

My heart fractured under the weight of his words. Even now, he refused to be honest with me. Though I knew it would do no good, I turned my gaze back to his and said, “yes.” My heart thumped hard, giving me more pain. “I’ve laid out my heart for you and asked for only one thing in return. I thought maybe you’d tell me the truth without talking in circles.”

Mitsuhide’s face reflected something between humor and exasperation. The urge to punch him joined the desire to kiss him.

“Did I not tell you that you already have the one thing you want? What more is there to the truth?”

I shook my head. When I tried to step back, I realized that his arms were around me, holding me against him. “I can’t help but wait for the moment when you tell me you’re kidding and break my heart again.” My voice cracked on the last word, the emotion I’d been trying—and failing to hide bubbling to the surface.

“Y/N…” His touch was so tender that it brought fresh tears to my eyes as he cradled my face in his hands. “I am sorry,” he whispered and closed the distance between us.

My breath stuttered and the world stopped turning as Mitsuhide’s lips brushed over mine. Just the tiniest touch of skin to skin. My heartbeat faltered then exploded into a gallop when his mouth closed over mine. Every hope, every daydream became a reality in that moment. My lips fell open as his tongue swept inside, offering me the first taste of him.

Mitsuhide drank from my lips as if I were water in the desert, a desperate, hungry, possessive action that turned my knees to jelly. I was so wrapped up in the deliciousness of his kiss that I didn’t notice he’d lifted me until my back landed on the soft down of his futon. His long, lithe body came down over me, his hips settling between my knees as he continued to devour me.

My body was so attuned to his presence that I began to shiver, my sex weeping in anticipation of his touch. Mitsuhide’s fingers moved to my waist where he tugged loose the ties holding my clothing together. Cool air drifted over my newly-exposed body, causing me to shiver. It was then that my lover righted himself onto his knees above me.

His hungry gaze raked over me, but it was not without that darkness, I noticed. I reached to close my kimono over my now-unbound breasts when he stopped me with a single word.

“No,” Mitsuhide demanded and I paused mid-movement, allowing my arms to fall away. “I want to see you. All of you.”

With the tips of his fingers, he slid the fabric down my arms and bade me pull my arms free. The silk was parted at my hips already, crushed beneath his knees and baring my entire body to him. My skin flushed a deep crimson under his scrutiny.

“I should not crave your attention the way I do,” he said, his voice a low rumble in the still night air. “I should send you away, for your safety and for mine…but gods help me, I can’t.”

He fell forward again, crushing his mouth to mine. His own clothing fell open, brushing against my body as he bore down on me once more. With one hand he drew my leg up around his waist and I wound my arms around his neck again, holding him to me. The feel of his body against mine was such exquisite torture. Mitsuhide broke the kiss, moving down over my throat again with lips, teeth, and tongue, but this time he didn’t stop at the base of my throat. He continued downward, his hands still moving over every inch of my skin. His warm, wet mouth slid over my breast and he took my nipple between his teeth at the same time he thrust his hips forward, rocking his erection against my center. We both groaned and when he tugged on my sensitive flesh with his teeth, little sparklers of pleasure erupted along my nerve endings. He kissed and teased his way down my body, drawing out sounds I knew I should be embarrassed by, but I was so far gone in the spiral of pleasure that I didn’t care who might hear me.

Each sensation, though familiar, was also a new experience. His lips tickling along my ribs, his teeth nipping at the underside of my breast, those roughened yet graceful hands pushing my kimono completely off and further parting my thighs…I writhed under his touch, my fingers tangling in his silken, white hair. With each new sensation I moaned again, his name tumbling from my lips over and over.

One finger slid along my sex, gathering my wetness and bringing it up to circle my clit with tiny, gentle movements. My hips rose under his touch and a long, desperate cry echoed out from my throat. Mitsuhide laughed, the music like ice-coated bells.

“You respond so beautifully to my touch, little one.”

Beyond words, I tightened my fingers in his hair and urged him upward. He obeyed the silent command, his lips finding mine at the same moment his fingers plunged inside of me. He swallowed my cry in a hungry kiss, his tongue and hands working in tandem to drive me out of my mind.

Every muscle in my body quivered in desperate need for release, but Mitsuhide was in no hurry. His slow, languid movements betrayed no need of his own, though when he kissed me, I could feel the tension radiating from him.

He worked my channel with his digits, filling and stretching me, drawing me to the absolute brink of pleasure before slowing his movements. Even in a lover’s embrace he still insisted on teasing me.

“Mit…su…hi…de…” I uttered between gasps, “please…”

“Please what, little mouse?” The smile on his lips was both arousing and infuriating.

“More,” I choked out, tears sliding from the corners of my eyes as he brought me to the point of release only to deny me yet again by removing his fingers completely.

“More what?” he asked, humor dancing in his eyes as I bit my knuckles to keep from screaming. He took my hand, pulling my fingers free of my mouth. “I cannot understand you when you mumble.”

“Mitsuhide!” I cried out, my body sweaty and shaking from the repeated denial. “Don’t tease me.”

“Now why would I end my favorite game?” he asked. “You do make such lovely sounds when I tease you.” His fingers slipped along the lips of my sex again, though no matter how I tried to urge him back, he touched me only with the lightest of contact.

“I…I need you,” I admit, my face heating in a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “I need all of you.”

“In good time, love,” he replied, dipping his fingers back inside once more. My body arched as he curled his long digits, finding my most sensitive spot and bringing me back to the threshold of ultimate pleasure. I held tightly to his shoulders, my fingers digging into his bare skin, as the first tingles spread.

He pulled his fingers away again and I screamed in frustration, my nails digging into his skin hard enough to leave marks. Then he was over me, his hard length sliding inside with one fluid, graceful motion, and I shattered. My whole body spasmed under the waves of intense pleasure. Mitsuhide claimed my lips again, kissing me deeply as he began to move.

My cry of pleasure turned to a lingering moan as each slow, deep thrust transformed my orgasm into tantric plateau of ecstasy. The intensity of each sensation increased tenfold when he curled himself around me, braced on his forearms with his hands cradling my head, lips and teeth dancing along my neck and shoulder. I circled my arms around his body, feeling the flex of muscle that accompanied each thrust. Time and again he returned to drink from my moaning lips as the speed of his movements lost their gilded edge. Each new sensation grew more frenzied and needy, as if he’d had the thought to devour me from the inside out.

Mitsuhide shifted positions ever-so-slightly yet reached deeper, dragging more and louder, carnal sounds from my throat. My body writhed; my head tossed from side to side. Every inch of my skin burned, every breath carried a sweet ache, yet my lover remained quiet, the only sounds issuing from him coming as tiny, breathless gasps.

He whispered my name, his lips against my earlobe, and gave a single, desperate order: “Again.”

For a second time, I came apart in his arms, screaming his name as every muscle in my body seized beneath him. My head flew back and his teeth sank into my throat, no doubt marking me as he let go a long, low groan and buried himself to the hilt, filling me with his warmth.

I fell lax beneath him, sweaty and exhausted, my arms shaking from the exertion of holding him to me and his weight dropped enough to pin me to the futon. We lay in that weak, twisted embrace until I began to drift into unconsciousness. Only then did Mitsuhide roll to the side and pull me into his arms, peppering my face with gentle kisses. With one hand on top of my head he guided me to lay against his chest, tucking my hair behind my ear and leaning his chin against my forehead.

Yet again as I was just on the brink of sleep, he laughed.

“I must say, I am surprised at you,” he said, his own voice not as smooth and sturdy as before.

“What?” I mumbled sleepily, tilting my head up.

He kissed my forehead. “You never asked what was in the package you delivered.”

No…no, I didn’t. But I had more important things in my head…and other places. This was not how I intended this evening to go, but I wasn’t the least bit sorry it had.

“So, what’s in the box?” I asked, knowing he was waiting for me to take the bait.

“Would you like to see?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, leaning up on one elbow to look down at him. “Is it going to attack, explode, or otherwise injure me?”

That frustratingly unreadable smirk appeared on his beautiful lips. “The only way you’ll find out is if you open it.”

“Me?”

“Of course.”

“Why me?”

“Why would you not open a gift to you?”

Wait…what?

“So…this was all a setup?” I should have known. Sneaky fox.

Literally.

“Possibly. Though I can’t say I’m entirely disappointed by the outcome of the evening.”

All the malice, all the venom, was gone from his gaze. When Mitsuhide looked up at me, it was with love and adoration. My heart skipped a beat and I leaned down to kiss him softly. When I pulled back, his eyebrows rose.

“Thanking me already, little mouse? You don’t even know what you have yet.”

“I already got my gift,” I tell him.

“I’m afraid not,” he replied, rolling over me and pinning me to the futon once more. “I do believe what happened here tonight was my gift.” He punctuated the words with a thrust of his hips against me, drawing another small moan out of me. “Your gift is on my desk.”

“Then go get it.”

“Yes, Princess,” he replied, still mocking me, and rose from the floor. His naked form was a glorious sight, all lean muscle and sinew moving with silent elegance across the room and back. He returned and knelt beside me, shameless in his nudity, and placed the package in my hands.

I tested the weight in my hands. It wasn’t heavy; small and compact and empty, I’d assume, if Mitsuhide hadn’t insisted I open it. My fingers shook with a new burst of nerves as I loosened the twine and unfolded the paper to reveal a bundle of pure-white silk fabric adorned with deep blue bellflowers.

The Akechi crest.

“There is more,” he urged, lifting the bundle and turning it in my hands to show where it was folded. “I hadn’t dared hope you would believe my truth,” he said as I began to unfold the sides of the fabric. “Or that you would be so accepting of one so cruel. I’ve lived the lives of a hundred men and never have I met one so pure and lovely as you. No matter the form, you’ve been so kind to me—foolishly gentle, I might say—and though I knew I shouldn’t…”

The last corner of fabric fell away to reveal a small, silk collar made of fine silk and adorned with bellflowers, the colors inverted from its wrapping. A small lock dangled from the metal rings fastened into its ends. It was just large enough to fit…

“Though I’ve tried to push you away countless times, I cannot help that I want you bound to me,” he said. The façade was gone, stripped bare to reveal the truth beneath his mask. “It is known that a collared kitsune is beholden to the master who holds the key,” he continued, producing a tiny key from…somewhere. “For without the key, the kitsune cannot take its human form.” He lifted my free hand and placed the key in it. It was a perfect match to the lock and my breath caught in my throat. “That master is the one to whom the kitsune will always return.” Mitsuhide tucked his fingers under my chin and lifted my watery, burning gaze to meet his. “Protect that key, little mouse,” he said and pressed his lips to mine. I leaned into him, my heart full to bursting. “As long as you own that key, I am yours.”

The collar and the key clattered to the wooden floor as I pulled him back into the futon, into my arms. We kissed until my lips were swollen and sore. Mitsuhide made love to me again and again, until we were spent and weak, tangled in each other’s arms and unable to move.

“Mitsuhide?” I asked, my ear pressed to his chest to listen to his strong, steady heartbeat.

“Yes, love?”

“I love you.”

He chuckled and kissed my forehead again. “And I, you.”

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