#crime and punishment kin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tsukimefuku · 8 months ago

Text

The broken idealist: Higuruma Hiromi

And how the world of JJK viciously punishes idealists.

Before we start, let’s set some premises:

This is an essay based solely on my opinions and my own knowledge of criminal justice. I’m no professional writer/essayist.

JJK is a critique on unfair systems that reward selfishness and nurture individualistic (oftentimes destructive) behaviors.

One of the main motifs in JJK is (un)fairness.

Even when rewarded by these systems, individuals usually end up alienated (Gojo being the utmost example, but so is Sukuna to some extent).

The world of JJK punishes idealists very harshly.

I might've read waaaaay too deep into his character (apologies in advance).

I am ABSOLUTELY biased in analyzing this character because I kin Higuruma very hard and identify profoundly with many of his struggles.

[queue “Pigs” by Pink Floyd] Let's do this.

The ideal of truth and Higuruma choosing to be a criminal defense attorney

Higuruma shows up in the manga as one of the top players of the Culling Games. Throughout a few chapters, Gege introduces him to us as a former criminal defense attorney that has lost it after one of his clients gets his innocence verdict overruled and is unfairly convicted for a crime he didn't commit, triggering Higuruma's cursed technique to awake, ending up in the deaths of the Judge and Prosecutor that contributed for the wrongful conviction.

Along those chapters, we get to see two very interesting things: Firstly, the fact that Higuruma actively chose to be a lawyer, instead of pursuing a career as a judge. Second, his stance and lines about truth, especially this one: "Even if no one else does, I want to keep my eyes open."

Higuruma, for me, is a prime example of how someone moved by truth and justice can become a self-righteous, cynical individual (I'll refrain from the word "villain" because he wasn't ever an actual "villain" in the story). From the get go, when we get more information on his past, we can see his mental state slowly declining as he gets progressively more overworked fighting an unwinnable fight.

We have some very important pieces of information from chapter 158: Japan has a 99% conviction rate. The public opinion about defendants is that they're always guilty. Higuruma earns little, works a lot and his job is usually trying for a miracle, to be that 1%. And, finally, that Higuruma chose to fight an unfair system from within.

That not only has huge parallels with the world of cursed energy, but is one the most important messages I feel that JJK is building up to — you can't reform a broken system from within, because structurally and systematically unfair systems will always push things back into a state of unfairness / status quo. We see this when Gojo says, at the beginning of the manga, that even if he killed all the higher ups at that point in time, other assholes would just take their places. To a more fundamental level, we see it in Yuki's failed efforts to end curses from the perspective of a jujutsu sorcerer, and the way the story is progressing towards a complete rupture with the current state of cursed energy altogether to give place to something new.

The message is: To fight an unfair system from within and by its own rules is and always will be a losing game.

Now to Higuruma's fallout, we have a perfect storm for what happened to him — an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

I'll dive a little into criminal law (and c.l. procedure) and make many oversimplifications to get a point across, so I apologize to any other criminal lawyers out there reading this and cringing at the oversimplifications.

In theory, the Criminal Justice System should be preoccupied with the truth. Criminal Law, in essence, is attributing a penalty (prison, fine, death, etc.) to an act (to kill, to rob) described by law as a crime. In that regard, then, one could only suffer said penalty if they actually committed the act that the law described as being a crime.

Where does truth come into place here?

To investigate if something happened in the world of facts (the real, concrete world) is essentially a search for truth, which to me is very telling of Higuruma's choice in becoming a criminal defense attorney.

In an unfair system in which 99% of people are convicted, it'd make no sense for this man to become a prosecutor. The prosecution is already benefiting from the system, considering the way the scales are tipped. That's a given.

But regarding the judgeship, things become more interesting. In a fair criminal justice system, the judge is forbidden to engage in probationary activity (which means, basically, that the judge cannot search for evidence, investigate or look for witnesses, he can solely analyze what the defense and prosecution bring to him in order to give a verdict — the judge does not engage in the most important activity in finding the truth).

Why can't the judge do that?

Because when the presumption of innocence is in place, anyone is presumed innocent until proven guilty, ergo, if there is not enough evidence to convict, the person must be acquitted. If the judge engages in that activity, they'd be taking on the prosecution's job — to prove the occurrence of a given criminal act. We have separate places for judging and prosecuting for a reason.

The scales are already in favor of the prosecution (they literally have THE STATE’S aid ikn the form of police forces to investigate and taxpayer money to foot costs during criminal lawsuits), so anything that might end up harming or weakening the presumption of innocence is strictly forbidden, including having the judge engage in probationary activity. If the lack of evidence is enough to acquit someone, then having the judge searching for evidence automatically harms the presumption of innocence, because if there is not enough evidence to convict someone, the judge MUST acquit.

In that scenario, then, the best place for someone who wants to search and defend the truth against unfairness is the Defense stand, clearly.

Everything said up until now about how the criminal justice system should work is just the theory, however. The reality of it is far sinister. The criminal justice system is a machine perfectly conceived to chew out those who fight for fairness, because fairness is not one of its main goals. It's main goal is serving as an instrument of power (in the most Foucaultian sense of the word) and control over citizens and, to some degree, appease collective concerns about crime rates and violence by making examples out of people, whether they're guilty or not (I could go on a tangent here for hours about the criminal justice system, capitalism and protection of private property by the state, but let's not do that, lol).

That's why Keita's trial is the perfect storm to break Higuruma's psyche so deeply. All the systematic unfairnesses that exist in the Japanese Criminal Justice System chomp away his ideals — one might say, what constitutes the very core of who he is — and unceremoniously spits it right back in his face.

Independent defense lawyers are systematically in a worse position regarding resources to gather evidence in their client's favor; it's easier to convict someone who's already under the gavel than to start a new investigation on somebody else and spend even more taxpayer money; to convict a person whom the people deem as guilty soothes the public opinion regarding how well the criminal justice system actually works to "keep society safe from these foul criminals" (not human beings); the appeal is a limited resource in most criminal justice systems, so after one gets their innocence verdict overturned, to get it back is extremely hard.

Everything worked perfectly to break every inch of Higuruma's ideals. It's no use for you to be the only one willing to stare truth in its eyes if everyone else looks away because it's more convenient to let the unfair gears keep turning the way they do. You'll give yourself to unnecessary suffering meanwhile nothing ever changes. This could even help draw a parallel between Higuruma's and Geto's fallouts: to realize how broken the system is, how you can't break a wall with the toy hammer the wall builders give you, and how lonely/depressing/infuriating of an experience it is to realize all this and still know there is absolutely nothing you can do.

The game is rigged, and if someone ever so chooses to not play by those rules, they're viciously punished.

Now that we've gotten to the breaking part, let's see how it manifests in Higuruma's own cursed technique and domain expansion.

The broken idealist and the cynicism

Someone had made an amazing post about how Higuruma's domain expansion was a perfect demonstration of his own cynicism at the moment his abilities were awakened, but I couldn't find it! So OP, if you by any chance end up reading this, HMU, because what you said will be featured here. (Edit: found it. Thanks, Eugie! The post can be accessed here, and @wolke17 made a deeper analysis after it, take a look at their profile)

In order to talk about Higuruma's cynicism stemming from his disappointment with the criminal justice system, we need to talk about his domain, so that's what we're gonna do now.

In his domain expansion, we meet his shikigami, Judgeman, who is an all-knowing creature responsible for giving off the verdict at the end of the debates between the two parties. According to Higuruma, Judgeman knows absolutely everything about someone's life the moment they enter his domain.

All is well up until now, isn't it? Hm, not so much. There are some very serious philosophical conundrums to having an all-knowing being bestowing judgment (skeptical catholics went crazy over this for many centuries).

Think about this: in a Courtroom, we have a judge who needs to get to know the facts, and is presented with two different hypotheses about the facts (prosecution and defense), for which the evidentiary activity (collecting evidence) is needed to support one hypothesis or the other. Given that we abide by the presumption of innocence, you don’t even have to prove the defense’s hypothesis to get an acquittal, as long as the prosecution one isn’t proven beyond a reasonable doubt.

What’s the issue with having a judge that is omniscient?

First off, why would two hypotheses need to be confronted if the judge already knows the answer — if the person did or did not commit the crime?

On another note, now going into more of a “well he’s just judging based on the allegations”, it gets deeper. We have a judge that knows what happened, but simply decides based on the parties arguments. This is a huge issue because firstly, it obliterates the value of truth in the justice system — if criminal law is attributing to a particularly reprehensible action a penalty, and judgeman knows if that action took place or not, yet doesn’t decide according to what happened, but according to who best defends their point of view, it annihilates the very own reason for collecting evidence, the reason that a judgment needs to take place and the reason for criminal law even existing.

In Higuruma's domain, then, truth becomes the least important thing. In there, who has the better argument wins the debate. The judgment that happens within Deadly Sentencing is not about truth, it’s about the game's rules (or, more specifically, his domain's rules) and who plays them better, which makes it all the more ironic that Higuruma sees so much “potential” in the Culling Games due to its rules and established mechanics.

In a courtroom setting, having an omniscient judge is always, in any scenario, a cynical game of wits, and it fits perfectly with the philosophical fallout Higuruma experienced after Keita's conviction. His perspective got switched from "who deserves to win according to the truth" to "who plays the game better". He lost faith in the criminal justice system, and to a deeper degree, he lost faith in fairness in the world as a whole.

And that's why we can arrive at the conclusion that Higuruma is, in essence, a "broken idealist" character: he's not pandering to the idea that "the winner should be the one who plays the rules better” because he truly believes it; he's doing it out of resentment, because he got time and time again punished and was subjected to a hell of a lot of suffering for upholding his own ideals of truth and fairness. He's not acting, he is reacting to being unraveled and broken the way he was.

It also shows in his discourse regarding the weak, and the way he tries to place himself above what he dubs “the ugliness of people”, as the only one who sees the truth (“darkness is only darkness / people are ugly”). It’s a mirror: he experienced his own helplessness (or weakness) with Keita’s conviction, so in an effort to try and protect whatever is left from his own psyche, he’s actively denying how helpless he really feels by putting himself above the “truly weak”.

In the end, however, Higuruma kept his idealistic essence alive instead of giving himself over to the story that he told himself as a defense mechanism, unlike Geto, which is why it was possible to bring him back.

Even broken, he remained an idealist at heart.

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #higuruma hiromi #jjk higuruma #higuruma #jjk hiromi #hiromi jjk #jujutsu #tsukimefuku #fuku writes

228 notes · View notes

p0ssumkingdom · 11 months ago

Text

AUTHORITY [Heroic: Success] — The machine shows not an ounce of remorse for the slaughter of your kin. No matter, the punishment for this crime will be all the same — death.

#art #ultrakill #disco elysium #king minos #minos prime #authority

325 notes · View notes

youraverageaemondsimp · 1 year ago

Text

Embers of the past. // Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: ANGST, war, grief, loss, major character death(s), hurt/no comfort, tragedy + not proofread

WC: 1.1k

A/N: first time writing pure angst IDK 😭 I couldn't sleep and I wrote this short fic so uhm 😀

He reminisced about you quite often, about the moments you both spent together; in youth and in adulthood.

“Aemond?” You call out his name and he wakes up from his slumber, your face hovering over his as the sunlight scatters around your form because of the way you blocked it with your head.

“Y/N?” He groans, rubbing his eyes as he properly sat up, fully awake now, “Yes, It is me, The septa is looking for you at the request of Ser Criston Cole” You tell him, and he looks around, “You know how she is, He will say how un-princely it is to fall asleep under the godswood!” You pull him by his arm, rolling at the thought of the septa lecturing you both, and he gets up, before brushing off the dust from his clothes.

“Let us go now, otherwise You'll be late for your training.” You quickly urge him, dragging him along by the arm and he stumbles forwards but immediately picks up pace. “Will you be watching me train again today?” He asks and you nod eagerly, “I love seeing you train.” you reply, causing him to blush before locking your arm with his and moving to the training grounds.

He remembered how in his youth you used to stare at him in awe whenever he trained, that stare never changed, it felt as though you always saw a side of him that no one ever did, your eyes filled with pure admiration, solely for him alone.

He admired you as well.

His admiration grew with age, as you both grew up, it turned into an emotion that would soon engulf you both into pieces, burn you both alive in its flames of passion. Love.

He loved everything about you.

The way you spoke, the way your voice would become a pitch higher whenever you talk of your interests, the way your eyes would gleam with brightness as you stared at him, the way your face would brighten up when you would see him.

He adored you so much.

So why is that your eyes which once beamed so brightly seem soulless? Your face is void of any expression which was once always smiling, your body so cold to the touch, no longer providing the warmth he once basked in. Why?

His grip on your body tightened as he was lost in thought, “My prince…” Ser Criston's Cole’s voice was filled with nothing but pity, but why was it filled with pity anyway?

He remembers now.

You had died.

Taken away from him, a cruel punishment for his action of accidentally slaying his own nephew, his own kin. He couldn't save you in time as the men sent by Daemon Targaryen had arrived before he could even reach out.

He walked into a room where the floor was covered in blood, your body lying amidst it with your gown stained with your own vital fluid.

He thought he had lost a part of him even forever when he lost his eye, but the day he lost you was the day he lost himself.

He became a ghost of a person he was before, his mind filled with nothing but grief and sorrow, Did he truly deserve it? You had done nothing wrong to be the victim of such a crime, it should be him that should be dead because of his own actions, not you.

Yet the gods were cruel.

Aemond, turned mad, unable to deal with the grief that weighed upon him so heavily which he turned to endless training and bloodshed, venting his frustrations out in such a way.

Till he met Alys Rivers.

“I know of the troubles you suffer from my prince, I can help you.” She had told him the moment he met her, and he scoffed, almost chuckling at her stupidity, “I know the sorrows that weigh upon you, my prince, the way you dearly miss her.” It was what caught Aemond's attention, how did she know of you? The only ones that knew were the ones closest to him.

“I can help you avenge her, but…” Those first few words were enough for Aemond to agree with Alys, she need not say more, in return, he helped her live a secure life than before, providing protection to her while she exchanged the visions she used to see.

It was all what led to the moment.

Him facing off his uncle above the God's eye.

The dragons roared as the fight begin, attacking one another for few minutes, struggling to gain the upperhand until Vhagar caught Caraxes by the neck, causing the dragon to panic and yank Daemon off, but Daemon held on tightly, his plan changing, jumping off his dragon in a suicide-mission to deliver the final blow to Aemond.

Yet he failed and fell to his death.

Aemond thought he had won, and that he had finally avenged you.

But he plummeted from the skies, watching both the dragons fight above him, he was knocked off from his dragonback when Caraxes lunged at Vhagar in order to avenge his rider,

As Aemond descended through the air, he had remembered what Alys had said to him. “You will see her once again after defeating your uncle.”

He understood what it meant now.

He reminisced about everything, everything leading up to now, each and every moment he spent with you, suddenly he felt alive as each second passed on and time moved forwards, how ironic as he was falling to his death. Yet it did not feel that way to him, he did not feel the doom anyone would feel nearing their death, instead he felt more alive than he ever did in the days he spent living without you.

Even as the air felt like a million spikes being shoved into his body, he found peace in it, the way the harsh air penetrated through his clothes and hair felt anything but terrible, contrary to it, he oddly found solace.

The waters welcomed his body as though they were waiting for him, Aemond found it harder to breathe, yet he did not struggle; simply closing his eye and welcoming death, accepting his fate. He felt as if he was only mere moments away from you.

Maybe in death, he won't be separated from you.

Even in his final moments, his mind refused to wander off to anywhere but you.

As the life left his body, he had only one thing in his mind.

Your face that smiled ever so brightly and warmly at him, just as the way you used to.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond fanfic #aemond angst #aemond x reader angst #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #x reader #reader insert #x reader angst #angst #aemond kinslayer #aemond x you #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader angst

550 notes · View notes

sunnycanvas · 1 year ago

Note

Hi can I request a part 2 for unfaithful baldwin where he regrets or the reader escapes?

Find her! Find her!

Baldwin IV screamed at the top of his lungs. He was sweating so much. His beautiful blonde hair was drenched in sweat. His eyes wide in fear and shock. Baldwin IV quickly shifted his hair back by his hand as he screamed in his thunderous voice. "What are you doing, does it take so much time to follow my orders"? Knights assembled quickly in front of the king. Shocked at such furious face. Baldwin IV was known to have strong mind and great courage. It's unlikely to see him furious. He manages to remain calm in most tense situations. The knights assembled in front of the king confused. The king's mistress was surprised as well. She slowly approached her beloved but kept safe distance. Last thing she wanted for her to get scolded as well.

"Your queen consort is missing" "Which one of you helped her escape" "Tell me now and I will spare you"

The knights trembled in fear not knowing what to respond. For the queen consort to go missing. Especially when they were given strict orders to keep continuous watch on her was not going to go well for them. Nobody dared to speak up and Baldwin IV 's mistress watched everything astonished. Even she didn't think the queen will be able to escape. "Helping her escape is a crime against crown" "I will investigate the person who helped her escape" "The person will not only be punished but their family as well as people who shares their nearest blood kin with them will suffer as well". "This fate can be avoided if you admit right now which one of you helped her escape and where she might be, right now". The whole hall grew quite and King Baldwin IV waited patiently for an answer. The hall became so quiet that one could easily hear the sound of water dripping. King Baldwin IV waited patiently as time went by his face became redder and his eyes grew colder. The king's mistress couldn't help but think if (Y/N) is found by the king. She will never be able to have same relationship as before with the king. "Baldwin IV is sensitive about his honour" "I know that he is not only upset about her escaping due to personal reasons but also about his honour as well ". She knew the king despite the love he shared for his queen won't be happy about people gossiping or perhaps mocking him that he can't control his wife. "This has taken a huge blow on him" "He has been possesive and careful when it came to her" "Ever since she caught us the king knew she would try to escape". "Nobody thought she would be successful though"

"Quick get the horses ready we will find the queen, I will personally lead the search". Baldwin IV repeated last words with so much venom that it sent shiver across everyone's spine Baldwin IV 's mistress although scared was shocked at sudden proposal ran towards the king forgetting about gravity of the situation. "Your majesty you recently caught another disease" "It won't be good for your health" . Baldwin IV raised his hand up indicating "Stop". The mistress grew quite. She quickly composed herself and said "My apologise your Grace" "As your humble subject I should have been more careful" .

"Who let a woman in knights meeting"

The mistress was shocked since Baldwin IV has never spoken to her like that, "My apologise my lord I will leave right away"

"Make sure you do, it seems like the palace has been lenient when it comes to security". The mistress didn't say anything and quietly left plotting her revenge when the queen is found. "I will ensure to win him back and make the queen's position so poor that she will seem invisible in palace"

"Gaurds, prepare the horses and ensure to send message to nearby Kingdoms as well" "Repeat the same message I gave you today to them as well"

Meanwhile:

"Thank you so much". I bowed against lady Sybilla the wife of King Bohemond III of Antioch I remember one of the Muslim sources mentioned her as Muslim spy but I never thought that it would be true. "No need to thank me" she replied with poisonous smile. "Just ensure not to get caught, erase all your traces" "In case you do, don't tell them who helped you". I asked her again doubtful "King Bohemond III of Antioch doesn't know, does he?".

"No he doesn't" she replied. "Now leave" "Your and mine journey ends here"." Leave as fast as you can, we have so less time right now" I smiled again and bowed one last time before I left in disguise looking for time portal. It took me some time until I finally reached my destination. "This has to be it" I thought as I looked at the place. Hopefully my calculations are correct. I need to hurry before I am caught or else my life will be over. Baldwin IV will be even harsher about guarding me but before that, I shuddered as I thought of his face red in anger. His eyes wide and cold and his teeth gritting. "Worst he can do is severely scolding and lot more restriction. I quickly dismissed myself of these pessimistic thoughts and went back thinking about my original plan . Based on my calculation time portal must be here. Time portal should open inside this river right now.

(Y/N)!!!

I froze. No! No! No! Why now?! Does universe really hate me so much. I could see the king, my husband with group of knights "Gaurds quickly stop the queen". Seeing them approaching I started running as far as I could, of course I was not match for trained knights with horses. I could hear my husband pleading"(Y/N) please don't jump" "Killing yourself will lead to enternal damnation in hell" "Your body won't be buried" "You won't be accepted by church". "Come back to me and I will forgive you". Angry I yelled at my husband "I hate you" "I will rather go into damnation of hell than being with you" "You killed whatever we had because of your adultery" My husband stopped at looking back at me shocked and hurt "(Y/N)"

Later:

"You mean to tell me that the queen jumped in river in front of everyone and was never found".

"Indeed my lady" replied the knight who secretly acted as spy for lady sybilla of Antioch. Sybilla laughed joyfully and said "In front of king as well" "How did the king react". The knight snickered and said "He later jumped in river as well when nobody was able to find her". "The king kept on trying to find the queen" "Finally he was physically retrainsed by his knights" "Everyone has accepted that the queen drowned in sorrow".

"After that" Lady sybilla of Antioch smiled like a excited child. The knight gleamed in joy and said "The king looked mentally dead when we arrived back" "He didn't say anything much" "Later he blamed his mistress saying that she was the one who seduced him" "That it was her fault this happened"

Lady sybilla nodded with joy and said "The king is known to be mentally strong" " Even when he first learned of his disease he was calm and accepting about it". Lady sybilla smiled again saying "That girl gave me more than I was expecting". "Soon Jerusalem will be ours"

Back to our time:

I was found in dead of night by station master near the railway tracks. I was drenched in water. I was asked questions but I could barely say anything in state of shock. I later was admitted to hospital. Soon I was discharged and left for home. Once I came back home.I was happy to wear my cozy clothes. "Finally, it's all over" I took my IPad and sat on my sofa surfing the web. I was curious about how events played out after I left. I did quick Google search and found out:

"King Baldwin IV ensured the gaurds kept close eye on Queen consort (Y/N) of Jerusalem after she found the king with his mistress. She was monitored all the time. Queen (Y/N) was able to escape though. Nobody knows how she was able to escape. Not even most researched historian of crusades can tell. Some historian have suggested that Raymond, count of Tripoli helped her with a maid acting as her spy to escape. While some suggested king Bohemond III of Antioch bribed some church members to help her escape but nobody knows for sure. The king went into his deep sorrow. His disease got infected worse because of swimming in contaminated water. We know now that he suffered with dysentery and swimming made it worse. The loss of queen affected his reign. The king reign was no doubt affected because of loss of his queen.....

I read further and realised how mistress was shunned. How her seduction was blamed and how Baldwin IV was thought to be king easily manipulated until recently rest all events went same with princess sybilla. "Yes, he is not a man to be manipulated" I thought Although unlike before Jerusalem did have quite a few losses like never before, I read further was able to find "Although king died of natural causes his body was never found". This last line seemed suspicious to me. "Wait.. wasn't he buried but his bones later removed from tomb in the late 12th-13th century after the recapture by the Ayyubid dynasty". I had a bad feeling about this, something isn't right

"Ma, Cherie" I froze. "Please not again". I turned around fearful and saw my king behind me looking sickly. "You shouldn't question my sense of duty" "I knew it I could find you ". I gulped in fear. "What did I get myself into" I thought

#baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven 2005 #baldwin iv imagine #baldwin iv x reader #kingdom of heaven fanfic #kingdom of heaven fanfiction #kingdom of heaven fandom #kingdom of heaven headcanons #king baldwin iv

260 notes · View notes

bitchfitch · 3 months ago

Text

Once upon a time their forest home suffered an endless night. Their great dragon god was punishing them for the theft of something precious to him. No lavish festival nor offering of rich drink or hearty food would water his fury.

The fauns of then thought their home would be lost to his darkness forever, only for one of their to offer himself as tribute.

Tahir, a young shrine attendant, walked into the forest beyond their home to meet the dragon at the entrance of his den. He said to the dragon "If my people's gold and my temple's joy is not enough to sate you, then may my flesh be your cure. My people repent for the crime done to you, but they know not how to repay it. Punish me, kill me, in their stead."

He bowed his head and waited for death. No sweat on his brow nor did his heart race, for Tahir was kind and loved nothing more than his people and the god they worshipped. His death would be just. His life given more purpose than any could have dreamt of for themselves.

The dragon looked at the selfless young man who's beauty and love and kindness were without compare, and he said "I will have you, not as a feast, but as my only equal." for he had fallen deeply in love at the first sight of the man and wanted not his death, but his hand in eternal marriage.

The dragon gave the sun to Tahir, as he was the brightest and warmest source of joy in their forest. It was only right that he be who decided when it should shine. It was a power Tahir never once misused for he loved his people and wanted nothing more than to see them thrive.

The two ruled together for a time, the common man that was Tahir was transformed by the people's worship of him. His kindness grew, his blessings brought love and joy and bountiful families. His husband's adoration of him turned the once ferocious and fickle dragon into an equally doting and benevolent god. Their forest was warm with their love, the trees heavy with fruit made sweet by their joy, the frigid desert beyond their home kept distant by their devotion to each other and to their people.

Though tragedy loomed as such peace could not last when mortal hands carried out deeds best left to the gods.

The prize stolen from the great dragon's hoard was a sword forged by his own kin. It's blade made to slice deep through draconic flesh. It's purpose was always to be his death when he grew tired of the immortality he was born into. A gift to him from peers who had long chosen their own blades over another day.

The priests, the foolish, idiot, priests of yore had stolen the blade with intent to make their god a thing of the past. The dragon was temperamental and cruel when Tahir could not calm his raging storms. How long until their kind, golden god would be victim to the beast? Tahir who loved them all without question would protect them as their king better than he ever could as their dragon god's mate.

They believed in their heart of hearts, that to save themselves, they must liberate their sun from the dragon's clutches.

One struck out from their village on the first evening of truest winter, through their home and to the great dragon's den. At its center the priest found him slumbering in his bed.

Their sun, Tahir, at his side. He begged for his husband's life but the priest was deaf to his pleads. Tahir didn't know what was best for them all, the priest thought as he lunged.

The blade cut deep into softest flesh. Tahir, kind and beautiful, had put himself between the priest and his love. His pained sob was what finally woke the beast from its truest winter sleep.

The priest escaped as the dragon chose to remain by his dying lovers side to the very end. For the dragon never cared about the fauns or their priests, only for their worship, and only then until he had found warmth so much deeper in the embrace of selfless, kind Tahir.

It is said that with Tahir's dying breaths he made his love promise him that he would not snuff the sun again.

Their people so beloved by him were foolish, but they did not deserve such punishment. He was always the one meant to suffer for them, not the one they were to suffer for.

The dragon agreed, and held kind Tahir until his warmth was gone from the forest he had adored so deeply.

Tahir's sun, the one that sat near and gave their home joyful warmth even when the distant sun set behind the horizon for months at a time, dimmed and shone as it always had under his care. The dragon, fickle as he was, would never betray a promise made to his husband.

Though, the fauns of the forest never saw it's glow again. The storms brewed with Tahir's dying breaths. The dragon cloaked his sun in thick storm clouds to selfishly hide it's light. He would not snuff it, but his sun, Tahir, had been taken from him, and he would not let another know the sun's warmth until his own was returned.

The storms had raged across the whole forest ever since.

Tahir knew the legend well. It was his story after all.

The thick mud sucked his aching legs down with every step, the heavy rain beat against his back, the winds tangled his loose and wild hair about his wedding dress's skirts. The ice of the storm was beat out by his burning fury.

The Distant Sun would soon rise for the first time in months. It's meager light wouldn't cut through the storm or the twisted boughs of the trees, but it's return was chosen to be the symbol of his union to the monster at the heart of this forest.

Tahir was dead. He had been for so long that not a single soul remembered what the Near Sun felt like.

Tahir was new and alive. A supposed reincarnation meant to be given as offering and apology to the Great Dragon.

He marched onward, the sword that killed the Sun gripped in his hands. It's heavy blade dragged in the soil. His shoulders burned from the effort of pulling it's massive weight.

The dragon had slayed each and every one of the brides sent to replace his Sun. Their bodies desecrated by his carnivorous teeth before their remains were dropped at the feet of Tahir's shrine. The blood still stained the grout when Tahir of the Rising Sun was raised into being their god.

He remembered asking the priests about the stains when he was just a boy. They said they were a sign of his husband's love for him. That the other brides were given to him as offerings so their blood may make him strong for his duty at his husband's side.

The clearing around the dragons den yawned before him, the eye of the storm a thick splotch of suffocated light as the concealed sun struggled to shine through the whirlpool clouds.

He would not be another rejected bride.

"Daeodon!" he called his husband's true name. He'd been hip height when the word was whispered into his ear for the first time. His hair had been braided with flowers, the barely there nubs of his horns painted, his robes decorated in so many beads he had trouble standing under their weight, before he was left in the dragon's shrine alone for a week of isolated prayer.

He called the name again, his mouth still open to demand the beast face him when the storm above ruptured.

The earth shook with the thunder of the great dragon god's landing. His mighty wings blotted the hidden sun's meager light. his tusks and horns glowed with lightning, his very breath fogged the rain saturated air with light.

His eyes, pinpricks of silver against the thick black hide of his mighty countenance, landed on Tahir and the storm froze. It's howling winds stilling like they're been caught by their necks. The constant rumble of rain went silent.

"Tahir -" His voice sounded like a bass drum. It was felt more than heard. His head lowered, his wings folded, he took a step forward and on his animal face there was hope. "My Sunlight -"

Tahir had had his everyday decided for him from the moment he was born. His every second accounted for so that he may perfectly fill a dead man's place in a monster's bed. He had never known hope.

He swung the blade. The beast recoiled as a gash of dripping crimson cracked the side of his face.

"Speak that name again!" Tahir demanded, his throat already raw from screaming "See if your prayers are what will make him stop his rotting!"

He had never so much as twirled a staff, but his rage proved to be equal to any amount strength built through action. Again the sword cut the air between them. Again the idiot beast recoiled instead of ran. Those animal eyes filled with shock as though he had never once thought the man who preyed his hatred of him every morning would dare raise a weapon instead of just accepting his death.

The blade was heavier than anything he had ever been allowed to attempt to carry. It's tip failed to raise when Tahir tried once more to cut through the monsters neck. His every muscle burned. The weight of it pulled him to his knees in the disgusting mud.

Daeodon stepped to pin the sword that would be his death into the soil. His thick hoof bleeding where it cut into him as he leaned to close the space between them. His marred snout twisted in a snarl.

"What kind of beast are you?" he growled before finally charging.

The breath was beat from Tahir's chest, Daeodon's thick nose colliding with his ribs as the monster ripped him from the earth with nothing but the strength of his stout neck. His tusks pressed into Tahir's sides, panic made him scramble to dig his dulled nails into the wounds across Daeodon's face only for his efforts to be ignored like a fly on an elephants back in the seconds it took for Daeodon to pick a tree to charge.

Tahir had never felt the thorns of the plants that grew within the gardens dedicated to him. He felt the agony of his back colliding with the trunk of an ancient tree. It shocked through him. His every bone shook in its place as his ribs threatened to crack under the impact. His abdomen screamed with what would be dark bruising. His life saved from being crushed out of him only by merit of the monster's tusks becoming ensnared in the twisting wood. Daeodon thrashed to get free, his teeth grinding deep against the soft of Tahir's gut.

"Your tears will not work- What Are you!?" He demanded. He kicked at the tree, uncaring if he caught one of Tahir's legs beneath his hooves. "How Dare you use his face- How dare you cry with his voice."

Finally he ripped free, leaving Tahir to collapse once more. He couldn't breathe through his sobbing. He had wanted to die valorous, but he hadn't wanted this agony to accompany it. He could barely stand laying in the mud, his every inch ached like his bones would be ripping through his skin if he dared to look.

"Stop!" Daeodon demanded his hoof coming down close enough to Tahir's head for it to catch and yank in his hair.

He didn't mean to scream, he didn't know what else to do when all that came was more and more pain.

"I said Stop. Stop. Whatever prize you came her for you may have it just stop-" he tried to nose at Tahir's side, an animal attempt at defusing a situation neither of them were equipped to handle, only to react to Tahir flinching away from him in fear like it was another sword swing. "Please stop. I can't stand that sound. Cry with anyone else's voice. Please."

"I only have the one voice!" Tahir screamed at him, his fading strength being put into shoving away from the beast.

"It's not your voice-" he was shut up by a weak kick at his jaw, as though it had had a fraction of the force behind it that Daeodon had used to bodily throw him. "Please, just stop-"

He nuzzled Tahir's side where the bruising was already darkest. The press was agony, Tahir grabbed him by his tusks as he attempted escape only for one of those mighty hooves to come to pin his legs.

"Hold still, just hold still, please let me heal you. You know I can't stand the sound of your crying." Daeodon's might wavered in his tone, like he too was on the verge of collapse from their one sided battle.

"Just fucking kill me-"

"No. No. Tahir, never. Please just be quiet." he groveled like he didn't know who he was talking to anymore. "Please it will be all alright. You will be ok. Please just stop crying.

Tahir's response was lost to the bright shock that erupted through his chest. His battle for consciousness being lost along side it.

#and this is the 'i lived bitch and thats your problem now'#option from that poll

74 notes · View notes

airfryingair · 24 days ago

Text

Crimes And Punishment - Sweet Dream [CRK: Royal AU]

AO3 link

The Virtue of Knowledge has existed since Creation. The Twelve; the name given to the Twelve deities of this world, created him and four other Virtues to guide humanity. They gave each of them a job and the ability to do said job. The ability to change fate, to harness will, to seek out happiness, and to stand strong against suffering. The blessing of knowledge and thought.

He wouldn’t call it a blessing, however. The Twelve put them in flimsy human bodies. They grow old and die and, when they do, the Virtue is passed on to their descendants. Memories aren’t shared between the generations so they only have stories to pass along and dormant powers that lie in wait. The Virtues make sure their next of kin understand their roles in guiding humanity. Some things change here and there as decades turn to millennia, but the core concept stays the same.

Except for the holder of Knowledge.

He doesn’t dare assume the will of the Twelve. That was a grand sin; the Heralds would strike him dead and force Virtue to find a more agreeable host. But as his fellow Virtues return to the cycle of Life and are reborn again and again - they lose themselves. The reborn don’t always act the same. Preferences change, bodies appear different, voices and minds and names switching around. Memories of past lives stay with the dead. Yet, in a cruel twist, the holder of Knowledge is exempt.

His body still rots and fades, he’s still reborn again for he is mortal like the rest of them. But he remembers. As an infant, he never could comprehend the memories of his ancestors. Things became complicated as he grew older. People, humans, they expected him to act like he did decades ago. He had their memories, he should have the same preferences and name and thoughts and opinions. His tutors yell at him when he gets a question wrong. His nobles speak ill behind his back as they wait for him to grow up, to become exactly like the previous holder was. The other Virtues are given more pity than he is.

But he can’t be mad at the other Virtues. They’re all locked in a prison. He’s seen peasants beg at the Virtue of Volition’s feet, even as a young girl. He’s seen the Virtue of Change bloodied and bruised after rocks were thrown at him for things he had, ironically, no control over. The Virtue of Happiness had never frowned except when she wailed in his arms. The Virtue of Solidarity never had a place to call home for they were dragged across the world. Even as infants, as toddlers and children.

The Virtue of Knowledge always wondered why. That was something he could never fully comprehend; the suffering they went through, lifetime after lifetime, in service to humanity. The Heralds, created alongside the Virtues, controlled the world, sky, and animals that ran around. They never had to deal with the problems humanity caused - in fact, sometimes, the Virtues were blamed for problems the Heralds caused. It wasn’t their fault the Herald of the Glistening Sea flooded their shores or when the Herald of the Thundering Sky rained lightning down on a village. They could certainly speak with them, but to immortals, the Virtues were nothing more than particularly interesting humans.

The Twelve never answered prayers, either. After Creation, they fell into a long slumber and have yet to awaken. Over 10,000 years since Creation, and yet, not a single message from the Twelve. Goddesses ignore them, deities don’t care for them. The Virtues suffer all blame. The only reprieve is the moments before and after death, where just for a moment, an eternity of suffering is lifted from their shoulders. For once, they can breathe.

The Virtue of Knowledge tends to shelter the younger Virtues when, sometimes, their reincarnations don’t align. A disease breaks out and a Virtue crumbles; a war where one of them is speared through the heart. Old age creeping faster than usual. He does what he can to protect them, to preserve Knowledge like he’s supposed to, to teach and lead like he’s supposed to, ad infinitum.

Ad Infinitum.

“Virtue of Knowledge.”

He had been standing in his temple’s garden, pondering. There’s a large empty space directly in the center - he’s asked that it remain clear. Stairs lead down to the patch, yes, but other than plants, there’s nothing but dirt from his disciples moving from place to place. He stands there, arms crossed, staring up at the cloudy sky. The Herald of the Thundering Sky had told him that she would be sending a storm today after he told her their farms needed it.

“What is it?” He looks down, turning around. All of his disciples wear the same clothing - brown robes with golden accents. He didn’t require it, it’s something that simply started happening generations ago. Maybe one of his reincarnations demanded it back then. His personal memories are nothing more than blurry moments between spell books and written texts. Because he didn’t require anything special, the disciples tended to add their own flares.

This one, a young blonde man with hair that curved around his face and rested just shy of his shoulders, decided to wear a shawl with a keyhole design similar to his. Now that he thinks about it, maybe they were simply copying his way of dress. Blue and gold heterochromic eyes stare inquisitively at him, then at the sky. Soft thunder from the distance reaches their ears.

“Well.. it’s going to rain soon.”

“Yes, it is.”

“...Shouldn’t you come inside?” The disciple looks back down at him. He can’t help but chuckle at the silly question. Yes yes, he should, because otherwise he’d get wet! A Virtue of Knowledge should know this indeed!

“I should, shouldn’t I?” The Virtue smiles at his disciple, lowering his crossed arms and taking the couple of steps needed to close their distance. A lot of his disciples don’t spend long in his presence - they keep their distance and never look at him directly. His students even less so; though he can hear them whispering through the halls of his temples and academies whenever he’s around. He has this sort of ethereal presence to him - it makes sense, the Virtue decides.

This one, though. While he never got too close at first, he never shied away when the Virtue approached. He looked him in the eyes and spoke to him honestly, bluntly. He didn’t tiptoe around the Virtue. Sometimes, when they were both slightly younger, he’d overhear older humans berate the disciple. That’s the Virtue of Knowledge, they’d say, You’re supposed to worship and respect him. He was created by the Twelve Gods to lead us.

Pure Vanilla, his name was. Named after sweet vanilla beans and a heart full of gold. Rough and blunt like it, too. He taught Pure Vanilla like all of his other students, yet he found himself keeping his attention on the man for longer periods. He found himself hoping to run into him in the halls. It was always something interesting going on with the younger man, yet always plain. A nice flower that sprouted in the cracks of stone. A sweet dish the cooks made. A particular sheep from the fields that seemed to like him the most. Pure Vanilla was the definition of simple, and he found himself not minding it. In fact, he relished it.

“Yes, you should, Virtue-”

“Ah ah-,” He raised a finger, placing it gently on Pure Vanilla’s mouth to stop him, “I told you, when it’s just us, you can drop the Virtue formality.”

“With all due respect, that is what you are,” Pure Vanilla, with the same gentleness he had shown him, moved his arm out of the way, “I won’t call you your birth name.”

“Please, my little disciple,” The Virtue begged, clasping his hands together by his waist, “And maybe I’ll get out of the rain.”

Pure Vanilla sighed, sagging his shoulders, “Please get out of the rain, Blueberry Milk.”

“Thank you.” Blueberry Milk stands up straight - this reincarnation was rather tall, he had noted when he was younger, “Alas, I do have to wait out here.”

Another crackle of lightning; this one much closer. Still not a threat though he does note how Pure Vanilla slightly flinches. Of course, Blueberry Milk doesn’t. He does gently put a hand on Pure Vanilla’s shoulder, turning him around and giving him a light push towards the edge of the garden. An open walkway surrounded the place on three sides - with the fourth holding a simple fence facing the mountain range that held the temple. A beautiful and secluded area for sure with quick access inside and away from rain.

“My sought Virtue, may I ask why?”

Pure Vanilla doesn’t move towards the awnings, instead he shifts himself to still look at Blueberry Milk. Blueberry Milk just smiles innocently, waiting. His disciple frowns.

“Blueberry Milk, may I ask why?”

“You may.” He turned on his heel, heading towards the edge of the garden overlooking the range. Pure Vanilla, as he expected, follows him. His disciple stands by his side as they watch another strike of lightning in the distance. This pavilion overlooked this temple’s town - a bustling area full of life. Now it laid empty, only due to the encroaching rain. Fields of grain and rivers that copied the sky’s twisting clouds laid before him, a beautiful vista. Centuries ago, this was one of the first villages he founded. He hopes - or, well, he knows, as he always does - that the town will continue to grow.

Pure Vanilla waits patiently. That was another thing he liked about the disciple; the man never tried to pressure him to do anything. He was kind and would wait for Blueberry Milk to respond. Even if he forgot or misremembered - something the rest of his followers thought was a sin, a failure on his behalf as a Virtue - Pure Vanilla still waited. He always remembered, too, and he never complained. Patient.

“Winter is coming and our fields are not growing like they should,” Blueberry Milk finally elaborated after several more strikes. Pure Vanilla kept flinching, but stayed stalwart next to him, “I asked the Herald if she’d send us some rain.”

“..Must her storms be so violent?” Pure Vanilla’s voice drops low as he stares at the fields in the distance, “I am not trying to dismiss the Herald-”

“I know.”

“But.. hm, they always are destructive.” Pure Vanilla wrings his hands together. Blueberry Milk watches him for a brief moment before turning back to the range.

“Befallen trees are necessary to enrich the soil. An added measure to make sure we have food though not the original intent,” Rain hits his head - he does flinch now, mostly from the coldness. It’s just a sprinkle, “Ah, it’s here.”

Soon, the sprinkle turns into a rush of water, almost in an instant. Pure Vanilla turns around, clutching his robes as he quickly ducks for cover under one of the awnings to the right. Blueberry Milk stays where he was, struggling to hear Pure Vanilla over the sounds of the rain.

“My Vi- Blueberry Milk!” He leans over the awning just slightly, pulling back as rain batters against his head, “Please come under the awning!”

He didn’t follow Pure Vanilla’s command, though he moved from the edge to stand in the center of his garden. Blueberry Milk looks up to the sky, lifting his robe sleeve to partially cover his eyes. He closes them, listening to the thrashing thunder from above as the storm rages on. Wind shoves against him but all he can do is smile - it was a breath of life to him after walking around stuffy corridors and libraries all day.

“Blueberry Milk!”

A deep blue magic circle appears below the Virtue and, suddenly, he’s standing next to his disciple. Still soaking wet. He can’t help but softly laugh as his disciple looks up with him with an annoyed look. Blueberry Milk wrings his hands before going to squeeze the long sleeves of his robe. A pointless venture, he knew, but he might as well.

“You’re going to catch a cold,” Pure Vanilla always had neutral, soft, expressions - annoyance was no different, only the edges of his eyes were softly squinted and mouth drawn in a thin line. He kind of likes this face of his - the Virtue only partially listening to Pure Vanilla’s complaints, “Or some sickness from the weather. Look, it’s already turning to mud- You’re not listening, are you?”

That last sentence catches his attention; “Hm? And what if I wasn’t?”

Pure Vanilla doesn’t verbally respond. He responds by jumping off the stairs, running into the center of the garden with mud already caking the sides of his robe. Blueberry Milk’s playful demeanor drops as he watches Pure Vanilla lift his robe up slightly, allowing him more movement and the chance to dig his feet further into the mud. Blueberry Milk’s magic circle appears underneath Pure Vanilla - but the expert mage hops out of it, continuing to make a mess of the garden.

“Pure Vanilla!” Blueberry Milk shouts, trying to aim his magic circles to where Pure Vanilla would go. As expected, the disciple dodged. Blueberry Milk held up his hand, starting to summon more and larger circles. Pure Vanilla starts summoning his own, blocking out Blueberry Milk’s.

“Can’t handle the reverse, My Virtue?” Pure Vanilla laughed. Even in such a large storm, Pure Vanilla’s laughter rang true in his ears. Light and carefree, drawing him in - though the notable lack of a birth name and the use of a title was enough to cater to his annoyance.

Blueberry Milk huffed, flicking his hands to the side and hopping down the stairs, summoning a gust of wind to push him towards Pure Vanilla. He expected the man to dodge, but perhaps due to the storm and his skill, he ended up being too fast for him. They slam into each other, falling into the mud with Blueberry Milk on top of Pure Vanilla. Increasingly getting more soaked, Blueberry Milk immediately pushes himself off of Pure Vanilla, though still practically still on top of him. Wet, long, sparkling hair drapes both like a canopy.

“I am so sorry!” Blueberry Milk begins, watching as Pure Vanilla’s face shifts to a shocked and reddish look, breathing heavy. He must’ve knocked the wind out of him! “I didn’t mean to hit you, I thought you’d dodge.”

“Virtue-” Pure Vanilla begins, eyes widened yet calming down. He shifts one of his hands to his face, pulling on his sleeve to cover his face. Blueberry Milk goes to move it away - why was he covering his face for? Was it the water dripping from his hair - was he bleeding?!

“Pure Va-” He doesn’t get the name out as a handful of mud hits the side of his face. Not too hard, but enough to knock him to the side (mostly from the shock of such an attack!). He can hear Pure Vanilla giggle softly as he gets to his feet, another ball of mud already in his hand. Blueberry Milk quickly rights himself, dodging the next ball of mud thrown. Blueberry Milk starts to move, feet digging into the mud as he mumbles spells underneath his breath; multiple balls of mud are formed and start to levitate.

“If you would like a fight, then-”

A loud bolt of lightning hits the ground in between them. Both of them flinch - Pure Vanilla falters from the force from the blow, crouching and digging their hands and feet into the mud with one hand on his ear to (attempt to) protect it from the crack that reverberates. Blueberry Milk, on the other hand, stands tall with his hands covering his ears. The balls of mud are forgotten, falling to the ground (and some splattering against pearly-white fences as the force of the strike disturbed the area more than they had previously.)

He lowers his ears after the force and sound leaves the area. Even the rain has stopped though the clouds have not receded - simply commanded to bring them peace in this small section of the world. Looking up, he can see the Rain Deity peaking through the crowds. He can’t tell the expression on her face though he doesn’t have long to wonder as a voice booms at him, almost with the same strength as the bolt shot down at them.

“Earth to Blueberry!” The Herald Of The Thundering Sky huffs, a hand on her hips and the other one tightly gripping her Heaven Splitter (her idea, not anyone else’s) as she glares at him. Out of all of the Heralds, she was the most pompous. She always demanded respect out of humans and even the Virtues - leaning a bit to the left so he could see past her gaudy armor, he could see Pure Vanilla kneeling on the ground with head planted firmly against the mud. Some of the Heralds demanded respect and others couldn’t care less, but only this Herald would punish those who didn’t. Alas, her powers were incredibly useful.

“Yes, Herald Of The Thundering Sky,” Blueberry Milk turned back to her, rolling his eyes and speaking in a noticeably sarcastic tone. She gawks in response as he continues, “What is it?”

“I’m here to collect my dues!” She huffed, punctuating her point with her Heaven Splitter as she hits the butt of it into the ground, “I gave you your storm!”

“That you did, that you did,” Blueberry Milk starts grabbing the long sleeves of his robe, squeezing rainwater out of it. The lands would be doing better - a lot better given the current raging storm. He had already informed some of his disciples to warn the townspeople of the upcoming rain so they could prepare appropriately. Hopefully, nobody was in this unwillingly, “But it’s only been a couple of minutes. As you can see, I haven’t even headed to the altar yet.”

“Then get a move on!” The Herald starts to float, electricity cackling around her, “I don’t have all day!”

Oh, you don’t have all day? He shuts his mouth for once - mostly because the Herald is already retreating into the skies. He watches as she reenters her domain - though rain doesn’t fall right away. Once again, he can see the Rain Deity waving at him. If only the Herald was as kind as her inner circle…

He looks back down at the still-kneeling Pure Vanilla. There’s not any sense of movement, not even the faintest hint of breathing. At least, perhaps a regular mortal would think so, but Blueberry Milk could hear the faintest huffs and see the softest movement. This body of his was excellent at hearing and seeing, a bit of an abnormality but rather useful sometimes. In the back of his mind, he hopes the next life fares him with the same blessings. Blueberry Milk closes the distance between the two, crouching down and tapping the back of Pure Vanilla’s head.

“Disciple, she’s gone. You can get up now.”

Slowly, Pure Vanilla lifts his head. Both of them are covered in mud, though it’s now smothered all over his face. A copy lays in the dirt below as he stands - slipping slightly, causing Blueberry Milk to grab his sleeve to make sure he didn’t fall again. When he’s righted, Blueberry Milk lets go. Without the rain and the heat of movement, he found himself getting increasingly more cold and wishing for the warmth of his bed. Plus, he still has to give the Herald her offering. She will come back if he doesn’t do it in a timely manner.

“I guess we have to go inside now,” Blueberry Milk sighs, turning on his heel and heading towards the garden’s main door - located just opposite of the fenced view. He can hear Pure Vanilla fall in line like he usually does behind him. He’ll have to change clothes before he gives his offerings, otherwise she’ll be mad. She might convince the Herald of the Glistening Sea to flood the town and that particular Herald was known to bend to her will. Not as much as she bends to the Night Sky’s, but enough that it was a problem for mortals.

They walk up the stairs in silence, Pure Vanilla quickly overtaking him to open the doors for him. The inner room was simply decorated - a fine blue and gold accented rug specifically fitted for the corridor with simple long, golden candlesticks holding up flickering candles. At the end of the corridor was an archway leading towards a stairwell which would lead them into the main parts of his castle. In this corridor, there was one double door to the left and two to the right. While this area was frequented by disciples, it was more private than the grand hall and library. Perhaps a more reclusive version of him would prevent others from reaching these peaks; but he wanted his disciples to learn so that they could reach his own heights.

They never will, but who is he to stop them?

Pure Vanilla heads towards the staircase leading downwards. Blueberry Milk stays in the corridor - he presumes his disciple is going to go change before continuing their responsibilities. He has his own things he needs to do, not even just appeasing the thunderous Herald. This corridor led to his more personal spaces so he could, really, stay up here if he wanted.

“Do make sure to change,” He speaks after Pure Vanilla, who briefly turns around to give him a nod before continuing on his way.

He still stands there, waiting until the top of Pure Vanilla’s head disappears before turning back around, heading back into the private cloister. Their hats laid abandoned as rain beats against them. Blueberry Milk heads back into the storm, collecting them. He’s one to not care, though Pure Vanilla would probably like his hat back…

He’ll hang it to dry with his other clothes - Blueberry Milk heads to the right, to a set of doors that lead to a simple entry area. Up a flight of stairs he walks, stopping at a landing with a door and entering his private room. Roughly circular, half of the room’s walls held large, colorful mosaic windows detailing some of the areas’ plants. When this place was being built.. Yes, he can remember that. That life, he had an obsession with plants in the area, and asked for his private room to be decorated in such a way. Milkcrowns and primroses appear to dance underneath shining stars. Beautiful - on sunny days or cloud-free nights, it painted the room in a glorious array of blues and yellows. No matter the lifetime, he seemed to always like those two colors in particular. Hm! Interesting.

He’s careful with his steps - scrolls and books litter his floor and he didn’t want to ruin any of them with his wet clothes and muddy feet. The harsh pattering of the rain on the window was a wonderful chorus as he placed the wet hats on a nightstand, tucked into a small arched inlet with a wash basin on a pillar. He removes his cloak, letting it sit discarded next to it as he starts removing the rest of his garments.

Unlike the rest of the Virtues or even the clergy and nobles below him, Blueberry Milk didn’t have any personal servants. He had servants, sure, but he didn’t have any that attended to him. When he was younger he was pampered too much in his opinion - there was always a servant to fetch his water and clothes, one to gather pencils and parchment, one to stand by him at the dinner table and refill his glass the second he places it down after taking a sip. It was, frankly, annoying. Everyone bending over backwards for him constantly, never giving him the chance to just do it himself. How could he build upon his Knowledge if he was so secluded all of the time?!

As an adult, he’s refused most help. He prefers to do the simpler chores himself; dressing and undressing, gathering his own water, cleaning (he does slack on that, he will admit, he just gets so focused on his work that he doesn’t think to put anything up). He does have a disciple gather supplies for him often so he can spend more time writing, reading, and researching, but other than that there’s rarely a soul that graces his personal tower. He doesn’t even let the supply-gathering disciple up into the room, simply requesting bundles of scrolls and ink to be left at the door.

He loved the quiet - the pattering of rain, the soft footsteps, the flickering of flame if he focused long enough. It gave him room to think. There was benefit to a crowded street or a wondrous play, but he could so easily reach those things. Quiet was something he often lacked; between demands from his people and disciples asking for his time, there were few moments of rest and simplicity.

His mind wanders as he goes through the motions of cleaning himself of mud and the day’s work. Given the amount of rain requested, the farms should- will produce enough for the upcoming winter and even a surplus in the spring. The rain will bring sustenance to the crops by the fallen trees and turned over soil from dislodged rocks and lapping water at the riverbanks. That was something that botanist life had taught him and written down. There still felt like there should be more when it came to agriculture, but his interest in it wasn’t the same as that previous life’s. It’s still collected and bound together into a book, the original resting in his private library and a copy in the grand library. That was another thing he kept between lives - the records of their existences.

Some of the other Virtues don’t agree with him keeping their old lives’ records, at least, the ones he currently knows. He does know that the Virtue of Change habitually disagrees with the principle and the Virtue of Volition often agrees, but they each have their own opinions on it. Of course they do, he chides himself, they’re different people. That was a fact burned into his mind. All five of them were different people compared to their previous lives, surely. It was.. Just nice to have records of it. Proof that they’re different and proof that those people had lived.

He was different. A crack of lightening against the walls of his tower caused him to jolt. A warning from the Herald to get a move on as she so eloquently told him earlier. Recounting the seconds.. Ah, he can agree with her this time, for he was lost in his mind for much longer than he thought. He quickly grabs a clean set of undergarments and robe, rushing out of his tower and towards the inner parts of his chapel to deliver her a proper offering. Perhaps he will give her some extra offerings for his lateness - he hated being late too!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter 1 of Crimes And Punishment finally posted! I'm hoping I can try to get CAP at least finished before my will runs out.

Hope this is a fun read!

#cookie run kingdom #crk #shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie #shadowvanilla #crk au #crk fanfic #pureshadow #cookie run

44 notes · View notes

kincalling · 2 years ago

Note

Hi- This is a massive stretch, but.. i'm seeking a (Dmitri Prokofich) Razumikhin kin as a (Rodion Romanovich) Raskolnikov kin myself... (Crime and Punishment, novel by Fyodor M. Dostoyevsky) 21+, don't mind gender, system or not, or age (as long as you're also an adult).

Please interact with the post and i will reach out?..

🃏

#rodion romanovich kin #raskolnikov kin #crime and punishment kin

1 note · View note

room-surprise · 10 months ago

Text

Izutsumi's name, meaning and cultural references

This is an excerpt from Chapter 6 of my Dungeon Meshi essay, "Real World Cultural and Linguistic Influences in Delicious in Dungeon"

IZUTSUMI

(Japanese Pronunciation: Idzutsumi)

(Spoilers for the entire manga and post-manga materials!)

Izutsumi (イヅツミ) is a beast-man created by attaching a human soul to a monster cat, which is why she won’t ever be able to “turn back” into a human: she was never human to begin with. We don’t know what Izutsumi’s birth name was, if she even had one. The human that was killed was probably a baby or young child, since they don’t seem to have any memories of their mother, so they may not have ever been named.

We know that Izutsumi is from a different, larger island in the Eastern Archipelago to the northeast of Wa Island, however we do not know if this is the origin point of her human half, her monster cat half, both, or if this is just where she was made.

We do know that when she saw an illusion of what she thought was her human soul’s mother, the illusion was wearing something similar to North or Central Asian clothing, not Japanese clothing, so the island Izutsumi comes from is probably not culturally Japanese like Wa Island.

PLANT: ASEBI

Izutusmi’s code name as a ninja is Asebi (アセビ), which is the Japanese name for Japanese andromeda (pieris japonica), a type of shrub. The kanji for this plant’s name is 馬酔木 and it literally means “horse intoxicating tree” because it was known to be toxic to horses and make their legs go numb. A code name like this could imply a rude sentiment like “you’re so unpleasant, just being near you makes horses sick.” Considering the hostile relationship Izutsumi has with the Nakamoto clan, this code name makes a lot of sense.

IZUTSUMI THE FAMILY NAME

Izutsumi (井堤) is a common family name in central Japan, especially Kanagawa Prefecture. It is historically affiliated with the Tachibana (橘氏) clan, which was one of the four most powerful kuge (court nobility) families in Japan's Nara and early Heian periods.

The Tachibana clan’s founder was Inukai Michiyo (犬養三千代) whose name was changed to Tachibana Michiyo by Empress Genmei. Michiyo was a court lady of the early Nara period and mother of Empress Kōmyō.

The family name Inukai (犬養) literally means to own or keep a dog, but the character for dog historically refers not only to dogs, but to any four-legged animal, especially those that are ancient or magical.

Over the course of the 9th and 10th centuries, the Tachibana clan’s rivals pushed the Tachibana out of power, and the clan was scattered across the country. I’m not certain, but it sounds to me like “Inukai” as a family name describes a profession, in this case, someone who is in charge of keeping four-legged beasts of all kinds. In the world of Dungeon Meshi, maybe this name implies they are a professional monster keeper, or monster trainer.

Though it’s a somewhat tenuous connection, the idea that Izutsumi’s human half might have been a stolen child from the Tachibana/Inukai family, which tames monsters, is very interesting! Another possibility is that the Tachibana/Inukai family were the ones that provided the monster cat used for making Izutsumi. Perhaps they were experimenting with making beast-kin soldiers in an attempt to fight back against their rival kuge clans.

IZU-TSUMI

Let’s break down the name Izutsumi into its sound components and what they might mean.

TSUMI

The primary meaning for tsumi is 罪, a Japanese word that indicates the violation of legal, social or religious rules, so you could translate it as sin, abomination, or a crime against god and humanity.

In Ancient Japan the word usually implied that a divine punishment was occuring, and something that was tsumi would therefore carry disease, be polluted and unclean, suffer from disasters, or be ugly and unsightly.

Considering the way people of the Eastern Archipelago discriminate against all races that aren’t tall-men, and the way the Nakamotos make Izutsumi cover her body and face up completely, I think Kui probably meant for Izutsumi’s name to convey this meaning.

However, although the negative connotation is the most common, tsumi can also be a name, or part of a name (Tsumigiwa, Tsumiki, Tsumio, Tsumire, etc.) which makes it sound natural when used in Izutsumi’s name.

It can also refer to the Japanese sparrowhawk, Chinese mulberry, a spindle, a whelk, a child's wooden building blocks, to accumulate (bricks, like a wall, or savings, like money), to build a reputation or gain experience, atonement (for sin), to pluck, to load with cargo, or to send away.

These meanings are interesting, since they suggest that Izutsumi is “sent away” by Toshiro when he lets her go, and by joining Laios’ party she is gaining life experience, building herself up (like a wall, like a child with toy blocks), and becoming a more mature person, moving past her old identity of being a sinful mistake. Through the course of the manga she learns to accept herself as she is, and eventually discovers that there was nothing to “fix”, she cannot become a full human, because she wasn’t one to begin with.

IZU THE PERSONAL NAME

Izu is either a girl’s name, or a component of several Japanese names for any gender (Izumi, Izuko, Izuchi, etc), so putting together Izu+tsumi creates a compound that sounds like a Japanese personal name, though I have found no evidence of it as an existing personal name.

IZU THE PLACE

Many names reference where a person or their family are from, so it’s possible that Izutsumi (or her family, or the magicians who made her a beast-man) are from a place called Izu.

Izu (伊豆) is the historic name of a province which is now part of the Shizuoka Prefecture, which is to the west of Tokyo. This area is the Izu peninsula, a large mountainous area, and it contains Izu city, and nearby is the Izu island chain.

Many of the Izu islands are and have been uninhabited, however a few of the islands do have small populations, and Jomon and Yayoi ruins have been found on several of them, indicating that the ancestors of modern Japanese people once lived in these places. I was unable to find any information about whether any other ethnic groups have specifically lived on these islands.

During the Tokugawa shogunate (one of the primary eras that Dungeon Meshi’s Wa Island resembles), the Japanese court frequently sent nobility into exile in the Izu islands because the region was far away from the capital, and it was considered an unlucky and bad place to be. It’s unclear if the Izu islands already had this reputation before they became a place of exile, or if the negative reputation was caused by its use as a prison. There is some indication that the Izu islands were somehow seen as ritually unclean or dangerous.

Eventually the criteria for banishment was broadened and the islands became penal colonies, where people were sent for murder, theft, arson, brawling, gambling, fraud, jailbreak, rape, and belonging to illegal religions (Christianity). Criminals exiled to the island were never told the length of their sentences, and the history of the island is filled with foiled escape attempts.

Not only were the islands used as a prison to keep politically dangerous people away from Kyoto, they also held an important religious role as a barrier between the supposed purity of the central court in Kyoto and the unclean dangers beyond the borders of Japan.

The islands were the first line of magical defense against the dangers that threatened Japan, and the ritual experts, a type of shaman called an urabe, practiced a special kind of turtle-shell divination in Izu.

It’s possible that Izutsumi’s human soul came from the Izu region. Izutsumi’s human part could have been a native of the Izu mainland, an Izu islander, or the child of a prisoner. No matter which one it is, being from Izu would make Izutsumi very low-ranking and unimportant, which would make her human half a perfect target for someone trying to find a baby or child that they could sacrifice to make a beast-man.

It’s also possible that the magician that made Izutsumi lived and worked in Izu, since it’s a place that had magical and ritual significance, was seen as a place of pollution and danger where such “unclean” work could be done, and where there is a ready supply of unwanted human beings (prisoners, islanders and their kin) available to be used as raw materials.

Perhaps they made many beast-men, and so since “tsumi” means abomination, perhaps the name Izutsumi simply means “abomination made in Izu.”

IZU THE VERB

Izu (出ず “dezu”) is also an archaic verb used by the lower-class that can mean a great variety of things, though there does seem to be some common ideas being expressed through all of them. Here are the ones that I think apply the most to Izutsumi:

Doesn’t come out (She’s been hidden in her ninja clothes for a long time.)

To leave on a journey, to depart, to move forward (She leaves her old life behind.)

To appear, to emerge, to be discovered (She surprises Laios’ party and then joins them.)

To be exposed, exhibited, displayed (She grew up displayed in freak shows.)

To sell (She was sold by many people.)

To exceed, to go over (Her behavior is often seen as rude and “too much.”)

To stick out, protrude (Her ears stick out, giving her identity as a beast-man away.) To come from, to be derived from (She “comes from” tsumi, she was created by an abominable act.)

To assume an attitude, to behave in a manner (She behaves like tsumi, an abomination, uncivilized.)

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #izutsumi #izutsumi dungeon meshi #The Essay

98 notes · View notes

splint-er-exe · 8 months ago

Text

I think it's really fascinating how Fireheart's coping with any situation or stress or really any emotion is anger so far.

Angry and seething thinking about Bramblekit. Punishing Cloudpaw with not eating for the day because he was just worried about him never coming back home after too long.

Just generally being angry a lot, losing patience, being frustrated and irritated.

It makes sense because he is too young for his work (deputy) and is overworked at that. A leader who has gone into a severely depressive state snapping at him, not doing her job, not taking care of herself. That's his old mentor and mom figure he's seeing deteriorating.

But also think of all the heavy punishments he got as an apprentice. Not eating as well or dirty work or having limited rights. Tbf for much worse crimes than not coming home at time. But that's the treatment he's used to. He's used to anger and frustration and heavy punishments being directed his way.

And now he shows that same treatment when overstressed and exhausted to his own apprentice and kin.

#warrior cats #erin hunter warriors #fireheart #it's trauma #my thoughts #rising storm is just Fireheart's emotional state

63 notes · View notes

a0random0gal · 1 year ago

Text

"Alicent should have killed Aegon for what he did to Dyana. Is this how she defends SA victims?"

Has to be one of the shittiest takes I've ever had the displeasure of reading in the hotd fandom.

I genuinely cannot believe that a lot of people think this, like, are you guys insane??? Lmao casually saying this as if they aren't demanding a mother to execute her child.

I get it blacks, you are mad that Aegon raped Dyana, trust me, it upsets me too. It's horrible and unexcusable, I don't condone at all. It would be very concerning if I did.

With that said, what exactly were you expecting Alicent to do?

Tell all of Westeros that because the prince assaulted a servant ( I would like to remind you, a generous chunk of nobles has certainly done it as well to some degree.) he has to face justice and be executed.

Whaaat? Westeros is not in the 21st century, it doesn't work like that, by their standards it probably wasn't even considered rape! They would just think the prince had honored her with his attention and she had showed ungratefulness.

She would be punished instead for attempting to taint his image and have her tounge cut out or something. We're in the middle ages!!

Rape in Westeros is unfortunately super normalized, his execution would cause a shit show. Oh and sorry, how are you demanding a mother to have her firstborn killed?

Ali is veery disappointed with her son for many reasons, obviously including this one, and she's not shy to say it to his face, slap him and tell him he's no son of hers. But he is still her son, and she will always love him no matter what. There is no way in hell she would ever kill one of her kids.

Lmao if one of the strong boys did the same thing would you demand Rhaenyra to kill her sons as well?

Oh and also kinslaying. The circumstances of it are irrelevant, kinslaying is always considered one of the worst crime one can commit in Westeros. Hell even people who unwillingly kill their kin are cursed and ostracized, imagine what the realm would think of a mother, the fucking queen, killing her son.

Team black will really find any excuse to shit on Alicent, even if said reason is dumb as hell and devoid of any logic.

#She also did all in her limited power to help Dyana afterwards #As a fellow SA victim you really think she didn't give a shit about her? Whaaat #house of the dragon #alicent hightower #hotd #anti team black #pro team green #pro alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #dyana #anti aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #daeron targaryen

306 notes · View notes

m0dernchr0n1cles · 3 months ago

Text

Golden Child vs Scapegoat (Pre-Canon)

[set in the Black Myth, New Gods AU.]

I said Fire and Ice was my Catradora.

The main conflict between Ao Bing/De Zheng and Nezha/Li Yunxiang is effectively Adora vs Catra, with a twist.

Basically, Ao Bing is the Adora, while Nezha is the Catra.

To explain this, I'm going to reference somethings I noticed (and used) from Nezha 2019.

[WARNING: mentions of child abuse, racism, infanticide, hints at genocide]

Ao Bing: the Golden Child

Something that was handled really well in Nezha 2019 (and the manhua Ao Bing Zhuan) was the subtle effects of Ao Bing's abuse.

You cannot tell me that what Ao Guang and Shen Gongbao did wasn't abuse.

Raising a child to be a weapon Beating it into his head that he needs to succeed or else Putting the fate & advancement of an entire species on his shoulders Forcing him to kill his friend's family Grabbing & shaking the child Guilt-tripping him into killing people Mocking him on the consequences of his choices (and subsequently mocking his independence)

Shen Gongbao and Ao Guang's reaction when Ao Bing said, "I made a friend" is extremely telling.

First, it's concern that someone might learn about Ao Bing's identity as the Spirit Pearl.

Dragons are seen as demonic/demon-kin (the villagers call Ao Bing 妖龙 yāolóng "Demonic Dragon"), and he is immediately persecuted and threatened. Taiyi even threatens to report Ao Bing to the Heavenly Court, which would mean that the entire Dragon Clan could risk being killed.

But the concern isn't about Ao Bing's well-being, but about how all their plans for the Spirit Pearl could easily fall apart.

Then, it's concern that this friendship is a "distraction" from Ao Bing's purpose.

Ao Guang chastises his son for being "distracted", reminding Ao Bing of his responsibilities and that the weight of the Dragon Clan is on his shoulders.

It's very telling that Ao Bing is hesitant to ask his master and father for anything. Yes, maybe it's the classic "Asian Parent-Child" anxiety.

But it also seems like he's afraid of what his father and master might say. He's immediately grateful, and gets the hell out of there before Shen Gongbao can take it back.

It's played for laughs, but you can see the relief and anxiety in Ao Bing's animation. He genuinely didn't think that his master would accept, and might even punish him for asking.

Shen Gongbao and Ao Guang saw Ao Bing as a tool first, and a person (a son) as a distant second.

Ao Guang’s A+ Parenting!

The post-credits scene cements this for Ao Guang. When he hears of his son’s death, the first thing he laments is that “they’ve waited centuries for this chance” and now it’s gone. Once gain, the concern is about Ao Bing not properly fulfilling a role or performing his given responsibilities. His wellbeing is a distant second.

Shen Gongbao even pushes his insecurities onto Ao Bing, grabbing and shaking a three-year-old for the crime of being confused. He projects his insecurities and his ambitions onto his disciple, which makes Ao Bing both a precious vase needed to be kept on the high pedestal and a scapegoat for his master’s self-hate.

When Ao Bing tries to save Nezha's family, Shen Gongbao mocks him when it goes wrong. Shen Gongbao implicitly puts the blame on Ao Bing, saying that because the boy screwed up, now there will be more casualties, as if Shen Gongbao didn't cause the very problem in the first place.

Shen Gongbao puts all the blame on Ao Bing, making the boy feel guilty, so that Ao Bing is easier to manipulate. He forces the boy to chose between "want (to save Nezha's family)" and "need (to elevate the Dragon Clan)".

Ao Bing is a tyke bomb raised as a weapon with high expectations and a guilt-responsibility complex, to serve the authority figures in their ascension.

Does this sound familiar?

Nezha: the Scapegoat

Nezha and Li Jing have a much better relationship (which I love when it's done correctly) in Nezha 2019 than they did in Investiture of the Gods...

But there is still something to be said about the way he is raised.

He was isolated his whole life, not allowed to interact with other people. He's a three-year-old child, so he wouldn't understand the depth of why he's isolated. Instead, he sees this as an unfair punishment for existing.

Li Jing can be harsh and demanding, but he's also a panicking father who is trying to live with the fact that his son is a demonic entity that is destined to die on his third birthday.

Taiyi Zhenren isn't the ideal mentor, but he obviously cares about Nezha and the Li Clan (probably compounded by the guilt that he was responsible for Nezha "being robbed" of his destiny and he was trying to kill baby Nezha).

But, no one is giving Nezha any direction. They point out his flaws and mistakes in training, but they provide no real direction for how he can improve.

When Nezha gets frustrated and refuses to listen, Li Jing loses his temper and takes away his weapons (his "toys"), forcing his son to sit through meditation to "think about what you've done" (this punishment never works, btw).

In Nezha's mind, this is punishment for "trying".

Based on that training session, it seems that this has been going on for quite some time, meaning Nezha has spent ~2 years being bombarded with criticisms whenever he tries.

As a result, Nezha gives up. He becomes a slacker, seemingly uncaring and carefree. It's a mask to cover how much the criticism hurts.

He's also incredibly lonely, but is unable to ask for companionship. Yes, it's because his father promised to keep the "Demon Child" locked up to keep ChengTang Pass safe. But Nezha doesn’t understand this, so it feels like more punishment.

Nezha wants love, but refuses to ask for it, since it would feel like "giving in", like showing weakness. If he asks and caves in, he feels like he's "losing".

He's been "losing" since day one, punished for existing, so why would he accept more loses?

He also has emotional outbursts in moments of vulnerability (a history of them, judging by the damage to the Li Manor). He's scared of being seen as "weak", and he expects Ao Bing to laugh at him for his display.

Nezha is a child who is never allowed to feel like he's done right, instead he is constantly vilified and punished for seemingly everything, so he pushes back aggressively.

Does this sound (somewhat) familiar?

Part 2 is here

19 notes · View notes