#genetic reincarnation? who knows

[foone]

Bad idea: Age gap discourse but in a fantasy land where there's multiple races who have vastly different lifespans and life styles.

Is it wrong for a 27 year old human to date a 140 year old stone elf, considering most stone elves don't get out of diapers till their 30s?

Is it wrong for a 80 year old dwarf to date a two year old fire wisp, when fire wisps only live up to 5 years (between the eruptions) and have memories of their past lives, so in a way they're "born" at age 400,000+? That octogenarian dwarf is way younger than the fire wisp that's only physically younger than some of the socks the dwarf has!

Is it wrong for a chronomancer who was never born to date, well, anyone? They are zero years old and infinity years old and negative one hundred and seventeen years old all at once. They look like an old human, sure, with the long white beard and the wrinkly skin, but as far as anyone can tell, they've always looked like that. We've seen the cave paintings.

Is it wrong for a 30 year old lizardman (that's old in lizardman years) to date a human who is 60 years old in biological years (because of aging spells), 26 years old in lived-experience years, but only 13 years old in calendar years? (ie, they were born 13 years ago, but spent some of that time in sideways timelines, so they've lived more years than have passed in their home timeline?)

Is it wrong for a 12,000 year old dragon date a pile of 400 kobolds when kobolds only live like 10 years on average, but reach full maturity in one year? And if you disagree, can you do anything about it? You do know what happened to the last policeman who tried to arrest a dragon, right? Their city is still smoldering, 50 years later.

Is it wrong for anyone to date the time worm? It's the same age, every year. So the age gap can only intensify. If you start dating the time worm when you're both the same age, when do you break it off because you've become too much older than them?

And most confusing of all... What about the fairies? They could be anything between a thousand and a day old, they would lie about their age either way, and they can look like whatever they want. There's fairies we know for a fact have been around since the founding of The City of Towers, who met the silent mother herself, and also look like they're at most ten years old. Is it wrong to date them, or just really uncomfortable for everyone who sees it? And on the other side there's fairies who are "born" (hatched? They come from plants, I'm not sure what the verb even would be. Seeded? Sprouted, maybe) this week who are already appearing like middle-aged men and dancing with widows in what looks like a scheme to run off with her fortune but they never take the money, because what would a fairy want with worthless metal discs? Maybe fairies have a hive mind or genetic memory or reincarnation with full memories, they'd never tell you or give you a straight (or consistent) answer anyway.

Stonefolk are really the only inter-race dating situation anyone can agree on. They're unthinking & unmoving solid rock during the day, so those hours don't count. Thus their "real age" is a nice even half of their true age. So if you meet a stonefolk who was dug out 30 years ago, watch out: that's a 15 year old, and if you're a 25 year human, that's too young for you, even though their dig-date is five years before your birth-date.

EDIT: 2024/01/12: Changed the name of the Stonefolk

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 1: Welcome To A New Kind Of Tension]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “American Idiot” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“What do you think, should we kill ourselves now or later?” Rio is spinning his Beretta M9 around on his index finger. This is not advisable. He doesn’t care.

Your hands are gripping the skeletal latticework of the transmission tower, steel hot enough to burn you; no electricity hums in the power lines suspended above your heads. Your eyes are on the horizon, golden June sunlight over fields no one has planted. Weeds are growing up through the earth, feral and defiantly useless, reclaiming their land just like the deer are, and the rabbits and the opossums and the turtles and the squirrels and the doves. The reign of humanity is over. Now you’re prey animals too. “Let’s wait.”

“For what?”

“Maybe someone will save us.”

“Ain’t nobody coming, Chips!” Rio says. “We’re a hundred feet off the ground in the middle of nowhere, motherfucking Catawissa, Pennsylvania, and we haven’t run into anyone since that Amish family back in Lightstreet, and I wouldn’t count on them driving by in their horse and buggy to pick us up.”

“We’re about sixty feet off the ground.”

“Okay, Bob the Builder, why don’t you whip up a helicopter or something to get us out of here?” Rio’s M9 has one bullet left in it, yours has three, nowhere near enough. At the bottom of the tower is a swarm of fifty-four zombies; you’ve counted them twice. There are no cute euphemisms: walkers, biters, the infected. They were once people and now they’re not. They wear the vestiges of their former lives, like how those who believe in reincarnation see meaning in birthmarks: here you were stabbed, there you were kissed by your true love. They lurch and snarl and hiss in their professional attire, college t-shirts, Vans and Jordans, septum piercings, wedding rings. They decompose in a miasma of metallic blood and spoiled meat. Parker had been the last one to the transmission tower, and they grabbed him by the legs. Now they’re chewing the gristle off his bones: disconnected ligaments that swing like strands of cobwebs, scarlet threads of muscle. “Oh shit,” Rio says, looking down. “We’ve got a smart one.”

Most zombies don’t have the fine motor skills to climb, swim, or open doors, but every once in a while—just like out of every 5,000 or 10,000 or however many ordinary humans you’ll pull the lever on the genetic slot machine and get a Picasso or a kid who can score a 1600 on the SATs—you run into an overachiever. This zombie, a teenage boy with red hair and a blue plaid shirt, is slowly scaling the tower. He’s already ten feet off the ground.

Rio aims his M9, semiautomatic, packs a punch but won’t break your arm with the recoil. “Fuck off, Ed Sheeran!” He fires and misses; the bullet grazes the boy’s shoulder. He groans dramatically and asks you in defeat: “Will you take care of that, please?”

You pull your pistol out of your holster and lean away from the tower to get a better angle, holding onto the scaffolding with one hand. You feel Rio’s large fingers close around your wrist, ready to yank you back if you slip. You click off the safety with your thumb, peer through the front sight, aim and wait until you’re sure. It’s a headshot: shards of skull ricochet off steel beams, half-rotten brains spray out in a mist. The carcass plummets to the earth.

“All this horror, all this catastrophe.” Rio’s eyes, dark like a mineshaft, drift mischievously back to you. “We could…distract each other.”

He’s not serious; this is a game you play. “No thanks.”

“You don’t want to die a virgin.”

“I do if you’re the only other person up here.”

“You deny a condemned man his final wish?”

“We’re not dying,” you insist. “What about Sophie?”

“Sophie would understand given the circumstances. She would want me to be happy.”

“What if we have sex and then immediately thereafter get rescued? You’d be a cheater. You’d be consumed by guilt. You’d never be able to take me back to your parents’ doomsday prepper cult commune in bumblefuck Oregon to wait out the apocalypse in peace.”

“You’re going to appreciate those doomsday preppers when you’re eating Chef Boyardee out of a can instead of shuffling around as a reanimated corpse.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I will,” you muse. “So you agree we’re going to get off this tower somehow.”

Rio sighs and whistles a morose tune: what a shame. “You should have gone out with that Marine at Corpus Christi.”

You frown, repentant, wistful. There’s nothing on the horizon except fields and trees and black storm clouds of crows taking flight. “I was afraid of making a mistake.”

“And now look at you. About to die as pure as Pope Francis.”

“How did this happen?! We’re not idiots, we’re goddamn professionals!” You re-holster your M9. You’re still wearing your uniforms from when you went AWOL, stealing away from Saratoga Springs like rats from a sinking ship.

“I’ll tell you exactly how this happened. You let that loser Parker come with us even though I knew it was a bad idea—”

“I couldn’t just leave him there! He started crying!”

“And he had one job, which was to check the oil in the Humvee, and clearly he failed because…” Rio glances at his watch. “Approximately four hours ago, the engine started smoking and the whole thing died on us, so we had to get out and walk, like we’re pioneers or some shit, and then that hoard down there came out of nowhere, and the only place left to go was up. Freaking Parker. I could murder that guy.” An awkward pause. “I mean, the zombies beat me to it. But still.”

“He had two jobs. He was also carrying the extra ammo.”

“Don’t remind me.” Rio isn’t messing around with his M9 anymore. He’s contemplating it as the sun hovers just past noon, hot and shadowless. “How many bullets do you have left?”

“Two.”

“Good. Don’t use them.”

You look at him, this man you’ve known for over four years, this man you’ve traveled the world with. You’ve already gone so much farther than Oregon together. How is it possible that what was once a six hour flight is now a month-long journey that might kill you? “It’s not over yet, Rio.”

“Remember what you promised me.”

His hushed voice in the moonlit indigo of the Humvee the night you left Saratoga Springs: Don’t let me die alone. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to make it to Oregon.” Then you grin, sweltering summer air breathing over you, humid, heavy, the screeching of insects in the trees. “But if it comes to that, I’d be happy to shoot you first.”

Rio smiles as the zombies below growl and claw at the steel framework of the transmission tower. Flesh peels off their fingers until you can see the gore-stained white of their bones. “Don’t miss.”

“I rarely do.”

“Do you have any more packs of Cheddar Whales in your pockets or—?” He cuts off as he spots something in the distance. His eyes go wide, his jaw drops open. “What…what is that?!”

It’s an SUV, massive, dark blue, rumbling across the field in a dust storm of displaced earth. It’s headed straight towards you. There is someone standing up through the sunroof, short dark hair that whips wildly in the wind, binoculars. You can hear the engine revving and, faintly, Kanye West’s Gold Digger. As the SUV nears the tower, Sunroof Kid ducks inside and closes the hatch.

Rio explodes into hysterical, rapturous laughter. “Oh my God, we’re saved! We’re not going to die up here! Oh, thank you, Jesus, thank you. I’m never going to jack off on Sundays again.”

The SUV, still accelerating, plows through the mob of zombies. Severed limbs go flying; bones crunch and snap. There’s a woman driving, you can see now through the slightly tinted windows. She puts the monstrous vehicle and reverse and does another pass. Zombies paw futilely at the sides of the SUV, a Chevy Tahoe, as it turns out. They smack their open, soggy palms on the windows; they gnaw and lick at the bumpers and the wheel wells. The Tahoe circles to regain speed, the engine growling, a bear, a dragon, and barrels into the remaining ambulatory zombies. The hoard is now largely incapacitated. Rio is cheering and clapping his hands.

The Tahoe’s doors open, and your rescuers appear. There are two men wielding baseball bats: one with long dark curly hair, the other tall and blonde, and there’s something wrong with his face, the left side, though you are too far away to see clearly. They move rapidly through the battlefield of felled, moaning bodies, swinging their bats and crushing skulls. There’s another blonde guy, shorter, softer, pink with sunburn, wearing plastic sunglasses and a teal polo with a popped collar. He’s spinning a golf club in his right hand. He is followed out of the Tahoe by one last blonde, spindly and swift, stalking the perimeter with a compound bow, a quiver of arrows secured to his belt. Rio is singing along to Gold Digger, drumming his fists on the steel beams.

“Now, I ain’t sayin’ you a gold digger, you got needs

You don’t want a dude to smoke, but he can’t buy weed

You go out to eat, he can’t pay, y’all can’t leave

There’s dishes in the back, he gotta roll up his sleeves…”

The driver wriggles out of the Tahoe with some difficulty; she is seven or eight months pregnant. “Stay in the car,” Madame Driver tells someone inside as she slams the door shut. She’s holding a hammer and sets about euthanizing the zombies still squirming on the ground and gnashing their cracked teeth at her.

Golf Club says: “Jace, bro, that’s so embarrassing. You’re gonna let her do that?”

Curly—or, rather, Jace—shrugs. “Exercise is good for the baby.”

All three blondes respond at once in a chorus of appalled disapproval. Interestingly, your rescuers have British accents. From within the Tahoe, someone turns off the CD player. This is wise; noise tends to attract more zombies. Madame Driver, unaffected, puts her hammer through the eye socket of a former Arby’s employee.

Jace flings back: “She likes helping! It would be sexist to tell her she’s not allowed to!”

The Scarred Man looks up at you and Rio and salutes, two fingers glanced off his forehead. You begin climbing down the scalding rungs of the transmission tower to meet them.

“Oh fuck, Aemond, you gotta deal with this,” Golf Club says. He is holding a yowling zombie at arm’s length by the straps of its overalls. It’s tiny, maybe a kindergartener. “You know I can’t kill the little kid ones.”

The Scarred Man, Aemond, turns to him. He’s wearing a maroon Harvard University t-shirt. “You have to learn how to do things yourself. I might not always be around.”

Golf Club scoffs. “As if I’d outlive you.”

“Go on. You can do it,” Aemond says. Behind him, more people are emerging from the Chevy Tahoe: Binoculars Buddy, a slight girl with shifting, watchful eyes, a blonde woman in a billowing sundress and with a burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder.

Golf Club is still struggling. “Aw, Aemond, man, he’s got light-up sneakers!”

Jace strides over irritably. “Aegon, you’re so fucking useless…” He kicks the miniature zombie to the dirt, raises his bloodied baseball bat, and brings it down on a skull that disintegrates like an overripe Halloween pumpkin. “You’re welcome.”

“Get bit, you poodle.”

Rio hits the ground first, his boots thumping against untamed earth. Aemond sets his baseball bat aside and reaches out to offer assistance as you dangle from a white-hot steel beam. “No,” Rio tells him roughly. “Back up.”

Aemond shows his palms and complies, retreating several paces. Rio helps you down. Now you can see Aemond’s face perfectly. There’s a relatively fresh wound running down the left half of his face, the violent red of burgeoning scar tissue, clear stitches; his eye has been sutured shut. But that’s not why you’re staring at him. His other eye is a focused, hypnotic blue, his short blonde hair disheveled. He keeps touching his chin, a nervous tick. Immediately, there’s something you like about him. He gives you the impression of someone who has gotten very good at hiding how afraid he is. Aemond looks away from your gaze, thinking you’re horrified by his injury. Then, reluctantly, he comes back. There’s forbidden temptation the lines of his ravaged face, a curiosity, a hesitation.

“Thank you for saving us,” you say to your rescuers, tearing your attention from Aemond. It’s not easy. “That was really, really cool of you, and we know you didn’t have to do it. So thanks.”

“Yeah,” Rio adds. “Sorry your Tahoe is covered in guts now.”

Aemond turns to confer silently with his companions, then asks you: “Where are you headed?”

“Odessa, Oregon.”

He nods. “We’re going to California.”

“NorCal,” Jace says, holding his baseball bat across his shoulders. “Bay Area.”

“Are you two together?” Aegon asks.

“Yeah,” Rio says, misunderstanding the question.

“Not like that,” you clarify. “He has a wife and baby, that’s what’s in Oregon.”

“So you’re single,” Aegon says, grinning toothily. His fellow travelers—family? friends? classmates? a combination thereof?—grumble and roll their eyes.

“Um, I mean, yeah, technically…?”

“Aemond’s also single,” Madame Driver informs you, relishing the chaos.

“He’s single but deformed and traumatized,” Aegon says. “I am mentally uninjured.”

You chuckle awkwardly. Your eyes, by their own volition, flick back to Aemond. He peers down at the ground then up at you again, smiling, a little sheepish, a little wicked.

Aegon groans, swinging his golf club around. ���Man, come on.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Aemond replies.

“No, it’s just right there, all over your fucked up face.”

Madame Driver feigns a sympathetic frown at Aegon. “How sad. Guess you won’t have anyone to give your syphilis to.”

“I don’t have syphilis,” Aegon tells you. Then, to the others: “I can’t be the only single guy! It’s pathetic!”

“I’m single,” Archery Team says brightly.

“You’re like twelve. You don’t count.”

“I’m seventeen!”

“Are you Army?” Aemond asks you and Rio.

“Navy,” Rio replies. “We were stationed at Saratoga Springs in upstate New York.”

Aemond is fascinated. “You’re deserters?”

“What are you gonna do about it, Brit Boy?” Rio says. Aemond blinks at him. Aegon cackles, drawing huge circles in the air with his golf club.

“Everyone’s deserting,” you explain diplomatically.

“They were going to evacuate the base and send everyone left into New York City,” Rio says. “Fuck that, we’d heard things, we weren’t about to go on some suicide mission. We weren’t even in a combat unit for Christ’s sake, we’re Seabees.”

“You’re what?” Aemond asks, puzzled.

“We do construction. That’s why we were still at the base. If they’re putting us on the front lines, the situation is desperate. I’m not going in the meatgrinder. I’m not gonna be like those Hitler Youth kids sent to Russia.”

Aegon is squinting behind his sunglasses, truly lost. “Huh?”

“We should go west together,” Aemond suggests. He’s attempting to sound casual.

“I thought we didn’t want to travel with strangers, Aemond,” Jace says pointedly, mocking him. “I thought they couldn’t be trusted, Aemond. I thought they might slit our throats and steal our Tahoe in the dead of night, Aemond.”

“We’re useful!” Rio bargains. “We can shoot things!”

Aegon is very confused. “I thought you did construction.”

“Everyone has to go through basic training,” Aemond tells him impatiently, watching you.

“She got the Marksmanship Medal,” Rio says, grinning, proud.

“A lot of people get that,” you demur immediately.

“We can give you guys weapons training,” Rio continues. “You seem…like you probably don’t know about guns. Like you read a lot of books.” He gestures to Aegon. “Except that one.”

Aegon snickers, unoffended, still swinging his golf club around. “I don’t read books. I read maps.”

“Okay, lets do it,” Aemond says. “We’ll stick together across the Midwest and split up before we get to the Pacific. That puts us at ten people, and there’s safety in numbers.”

“Why do you get to make all the decisions?!” Jace demands. “Who signed that fucking contract? I didn’t consent to those terms.”

“Because that’s what Criston told us the last time the phones worked,” Aegon replies smugly. “He said Aemond’s in charge. So he is. If you want to find your way to California on your own, you’re welcome to try.”

“Who’s Criston?” you ask.

“Our fake dad,” Aegon says.

“Oh, your stepdad?”

“No, our mom is still married to our dad, he just sucks.”

“He does suck,” Archery Team confirms.

Rio tells you: “Hey, Chips, you’re standing in a torso.”

“Am I?” You look down. Your boots are buried to the ankles in the rotting gore of a bare midsection with only one limp arm still attached. You step out of it and shake off the bits of decomposing organs. “Gnarly. Thanks.” You spot Parker’s backpack containing the extra ammunition, pick it up out of the dirt, and throw it over your shoulders.

“Chips?” Aemond says. “Like…chocolate chips?”

“No, like woodchips. I’m a carpenter. I mean, I was a carpenter, I guess. That’s what I did in the Navy. Some people call the carpenters Chips.”

“I was an electrician,” Rio says. “So clearly, now that all the power is down, that turned out to be a fantastic career path.” Then he formally introduces himself. “Hi everyone, I’m Rio.”

Aegon perks up. “Oh, like the Rio Grande.”

Rio pretends to be scandalized. “Wow, racist.”

“So racist,” you agree.

Aegon’s chubby pink face fills with horror. “No, wait, I didn’t…um…”

Rio laughs and taps the nametag on his chest, black letters stitched over green camouflage: Osorio.

“His first name’s Bryan,” you say. “But no one calls him that.”

“My mom calls me Bryan. Sophie calls me Bryan.”

Aemond points at his companions, one after the other. “That’s my brother Aegon and my sister Helaena. Jace and Luke are our cousins. Then Baela and Rhaena are their girlfriends. Well, Baela…she’s kind of a fiancée. But there’s no official ring yet.”

Jace says: “Unfortunately, all the jewelry stores were looted on account of the apocalypse.”

“And I’m Daeron,” Archery Team says buoyantly, waving. Then he shields his eyes as he notices something at the edge of the field. “Oh, guys…?”

There are zombies approaching with clumsy, staggering strides, only a few now, but more will follow. That’s the thing; they are in seemingly endless supply. It’s easy to get too comfortable with them, to think of them as slow and mindless, even comical, even pitiful. But they can surprise you. And it only takes one bite to become just like them.

“Time to return to the Tahoe,” Baela announces, waddling towards the driver’s seat. Rhaena climbs in the passenger’s side. The rest of you pile into the back. The SUV has nine seats; Aegon crouches on the floor without being asked to. He’s unfolding a map he pulled from the pocket of his salmon-colored shorts and laying it flat across Rio’s knees so everyone can see. Baela turns the key in the ignition and the Tahoe rumbles to life. You spot a few red gas cans under the seats. If you can’t find more when that runs out—siphoning it out of other vehicles, stumbling across a gas station that is miraculously not drained dry—you’ll be walking, biking, or skateboarding to the West Coast. Or embracing the Amish lifestyle with a horse and buggy.

“We were planning to swing by Fort Indiantown Gap,” you tell Aemond. He twists around in his seat to look at you, that absorbed crystalline blue gaze. “That’s where we were headed before our Humvee broke down. It’s a National Guard Training Center. It’s probably cleaned out like everywhere else, but if it’s not…we might be able to find some guns and ammo there.”

“Where is it?”

“An hour south of here, just outside of Harrisburg.”

Baela is watching Aemond in the rearview mirror. He gives her a nod. “How do I get there?” Baela asks you.

“South on Route 42. Did you see the signs on your way in…?”

“Yup. Got it.” Baela steers the Tahoe across the field, kicking up a vortex of parched soil. She intentionally runs down four zombies before swerving left onto a two-lane road. Then she turns up the volume on the CD player: War Pigs by Black Sabbath. “It’s a mixtape,” she informs you.

Aegon points to southcentral Pennsylvania on a map of the United States of America, highway arteries and local route veins. “We’re here,” he says, sliding around on the floor of the Tahoe as Baela drives. His index finger traces the path; it’s a precarious balance between avoiding the most heavily populated areas and still having access to the necessary trappings of civilization: supplies to scavenge, roads to follow, buildings to take shelter in. “We’ll stop by Fort Indiantown Gap and then head northwest, thread the needle between Pittsburgh and Cleveland, stay south of Detroit and Chicago, cut across Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, that top part of Utah, then go our separate ways in Nevada. Oh my God, it’s just like the Oregon Trail! Do you guys remember that game?! Fording rivers, getting dysentery, hunting bison to extinction?” He starts humming the theme song.

Jace smirks, chomping on a Twizzler. “Hope you don’t die of a snakebite or something. That’d be awful.”

Aegon ignores him and refolds the map. “Rio! Fuck, marry, kill. The last three first ladies before Biden.”

Rhaena says, exasperated: “Aegon, you have to stop asking people that. It’s inappropriate.”

“Oh, easy,” Rio replies. “I’m fucking Laura Bush.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Aegon gives him a high five.

“And then I have to marry Michelle.”

“You gotta.”

“Which means Melania gets the grape Flavor Aid.”

“It’s the only logical answer.”

“I’d fuck Melania,” Jace says.

“Of course you would, you sick, sick man,” Aegon mutters, rolling down a window and sticking his head out like a golden retriever, his sunglasses still on, his blonde hair flapping in the wind. There’s a tattoo in black ink on his forearm, you notice for the first time: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fort Indiantown Gap is a ghost town like a gold seam emptied, an oil well run dry, a collapsed coal mine. There’s no central armory but instead a series of arms rooms, one for each unit. Every single scrap of lethal metal is gone: no pistols, no rifles, no grenade launchers or machine guns, no ammo, not even pocketknives, although you do find clean PT uniforms for you and Rio to change into, t-shirts and running shorts and sneakers. Clothes are surprisingly difficult to acquire now. Most stores have either been looted or overrun by zombies, and Amazon is tragically no longer delivering. You can break into houses that seem abandoned, but then you have to hope the people who lived there just so happened to be your size and also aren’t waiting inside to eat you. It’s not usually a wise gamble.

You study Aemond and his companions as you move through the base clearing buildings, you and Rio with loaded M9s in your holsters and clutching borrowed baseball bats; gunshots are best avoided if possible so as not to attract unwanted attention. Aemond and Jace take point, almost always; Aegon hovers on Aemond’s blind left side, wagging his golf club around, occasionally slapping Aemond’s shoulder to remind him he’s there. Daeron prowls at the back and on the periphery. Baela pretends she isn’t struggling to keep up. Luke and Rhaena are the lookouts. Helaena fills her burlap messenger bag with small treasures you don’t even notice her accumulating: bottles of Advil, batteries, lighters, pens, tweezers, Band-Aids, Uno cards. You encounter only three zombies, easily decommissioned. Fort Indiantown Gap must have been evacuated weeks ago. You wonder what pointless battles her soldiers died in. Everyone knows the dead have won.

What the abandoned base lacks in weaponry it makes up for in food. You find a chow hall with an untouched kitchen, a wealth of shelf-stable delicacies: chili, saltine crackers, applesauce, fruit cocktail with bright red gems of cherries, peanut butter, strawberry jelly, green beans, carrots, peas, beets, tuna fish, chicken noodle soup. You feast—a Thanksgiving, a Last Supper—then settle into the barracks next door as the sun begins to set. There are plenty of bunkbeds and a closet full of pillows and sheets. Someone always has to be up to keep watch; Daeron and Jace immediately go to sleep so they can get some rest before they are shaken awake sometime around 2 or 3 a.m. Baela says she’s going to lie down for a minute and almost immediately begins snoring. Helaena makes silent amendments in her notebook; she keeps an inventory of everything the group has, needs, or wants.

Outside, Rio and Aegon are engaged in a spirited game of Uno. Luke is sitting cross-legged on the roof of the Tahoe with his binoculars. Rhaena is beside him softly reading a book out loud: The Hunger Games. Aemond is on a wooden bench on the front porch of the barracks, watching the sun sink into the west. When he notices you, he seems pleased. “Hi.”

“Hi. I’m sorry we wasted your gas to come here.”

“No, it was a good idea. It was worth a shot. And now we have a safe place to sleep tonight.” His eye drops lower, his scarred brow crinkles in concern. “What happened to your hands?”

“My hands?” In the haze of the adrenaline, you didn’t even notice. Your palms are blistered, swollen and stinging. “Oh. It was the transmission tower. The steel beams got really hot while we were up there. I’ll be okay.”

“Let me bandage them. You don’t want to get an infection.”

“Really, I’m fine, I shouldn’t inconvenience—”

“Sit down,” Aemond insists. You take a seat on the bench while he goes to the Tahoe to fetch a black nylon bag about the size of a briefcase. Rio casts you a furtive, crafty grin. It’s nothing, you mouth back, more to convince yourself than him. Your pulse is thudding in your ears; your cheeks are warm. You haven’t felt like this since you almost agreed to go on a date with that Marine you met at Corpus Christi, where your battalion had been dispatched to build a series of new airplane hangars. Aemond returns to the bench and begins wiping down your palms with antiseptic. “Sorry if this stings.”

It does, but you’re grateful for the distraction. “It isn’t too bad.”

“You’re not from Oregon.” He’s noticed your accent.

“Kentucky,” you confess.

“You aren’t making a stop at home before traveling west?”

“Why would I want to go back there?”

Aemond looks at you uncertainly; he can’t tell if you’re joking. You like the way his voice goes quiet when it’s just the two of you. You like the way he barely shows his teeth when he talks, like he’s keeping secrets.

After a moment, as the sky begins to turn to orange and pink and lilac, you continue. “People join the Army for a paycheck and a place to sleep, free college, health insurance. People join the Marines to prove they’re the best. People join the Air Force because they want to be in the military but think they’re too smart for grunt work. And people join the Navy to get away from home. I wanted to get far, far, far away.”

Aemond smiles. “Are you far enough yet?” He doesn’t mean by miles. He means the fact that the world will never be the same. Now he’s coating your hands in a thick white ointment, cool and blissful.

“I was afraid of so many things, and now none of them matter.”

“We all have brand new things to be afraid of.” He gets a roll of gauze and begins to wrap your palms, careful to keep your fingers and thumbs unencumbered.

“Aemond?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to your face?”

He shrugs. He’s trying not to be resentful about it; he can’t change it anyway. “We were scavenging supplies from a Home Depot. We had to board up the house and wait until things…got quieter and it was safe to travel out of Boston.” And by got quieter, he means that the initial wave passed, the zombies began to wander out of the cities and disperse, the survivors were hunkered down and not participating in gunfights or Vikings-style pillaging in the streets. “A piece of sheet metal fell on me from the top shelf. Aegon and Jace dragged me home, they thought I was dying.”

“I’m glad you weren’t. Who treated it?”

“I did.”

You can’t disguise your shock. “You…you stitched up your own face?”

He smirks, finishing the bandages on your hands. “I was in medical school before all this.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“I was an intern. So definitely not a doctor, but the closest thing to one I had access to. And I had taken some things from the hospital when everything went to hell. So I got a little mirror, and I lidocained myself very generously, and I started suturing.”

You don’t know what to say. His eye?? He stitched his eye shut?? “I mean…you did a great job.”

“I’m aware I look like Frankenstein, but I guess it’s better than not being here at all.”

“No, seriously. You look amazing, Aemond.”

He stares at you, bewildered. You realize how bizarre it must sound. You both start laughing as Aemond packs his supplies back into his medical kit. He touches his fingertips to his chin a few times—restless, meditative—then stands to return inside the barracks. “I’m…going to go check on Helaena.”

“Yeah. Cool. See ya.” You don’t watch him leave. This takes intentional effort.

Seconds pass anonymously: no time you need to be anywhere, nothing late, nothing early, no television premiers, no football games, no State Of The Unions, no time zones to do mental math over. You aren’t even sure what day it is. The earth has erased your invisible prisons. Now all that remain are the real ones: weather, terrain, disease, predators.

There is the creaking of weight on the porch steps. You warn him: “I’m not interested in your commentary.”

Rio winks as he says: “Maybe you won’t die a virgin after all.”

[blackknight-kai]

We need an S/O who’s just an enabler for Wukong; like someone who’s totally ride or die.

Oh we’re going to heckle the locals yaoguai? They’re down.

Beat up whoever we please? Yessir.

Be the celestials’ biggest pain in the ass? Hell yea.

[But there’s also that sweet potential angst there, your husband/best friend reincarnates to this totally different guy and you have no clue what to do with yourself.]

Yes, I love this! I’d be that person LOL. Like “oh you wanna go beat the shit out of some people? Cool get after it dude! Fuck ‘em up!”

But for real, I think Wukong having that would be amazing, not for everyone else of course but for him? Great. He’d be living his best life and his ego would be HUUUUUUUGE. This chaotic asshole would love having a partner in crime/someone to support him in his mischievous endeavors.

He’d be so happy too. Coming home after doing whatever it is and excitedly telling you all about it. He’d strut around preening like a peacock. At no point would he ever feel like he was without or that he was lacking in his relationship. If people try to bring him down? Yeah not gonna work because you had his back and he trusts you.

Seeing him so happy and confident would be the highlight of your day. He’s just so LOUD. You could never ignore him. You love your monkey way too much!

So when you see his reincarnation be the total opposite of everything he normally is really screws with your head. Sure he looks like Wukong, fights like him, and is goal oriented like him.

But hes quiet. Genuinely doesnt speak which is a huge contrast to the mouthy Great Sage you knew. Reserved. Hyper Focused. And honestly very closed off.

A bit cold too. You’d been so used to Wukongs warm loving self that this is just…difficult.

Destined One is hard to read. You dont see anything of the Wukong you knew in him for the longest time. It hurts. At first you wonder if you should just….part from him. Go your separate way and let him go on his path. It doesnt sit right with you though to do that. As painful as it is to be near someone who reminds you of the lover you’d lost so long ago. But you are determined to help him and determined to be there for him. Ride or die for life right?

One thing you realize though after spending time with him is that yeah, hes different but also, not that different. He’s still cheeky in his own way and mischievous. Just a bit more subtle about it. Clever. As you get to know him and he learns to trust you he starts showing his true colors. Cracks grins and smirks, the first time you caught his lip twitching you thought you were hallucinating. His tail swishes and flicks with his amusement and you can gauge his mood by how deep the frown on his face or how tense his shoulders and tail are. He plays familiar pranks, sometimes with new twists on them. Being a prankster definitely is in his genetics.

Instead of talking he uses grunts and sounds, you learn what each means over time. His eyes also speak volumes now that you’ve grown to know him. They always reveal his true feelings and damn do they always look at you with that familiar warmth you’d come to associate with Wukong. As he gains more power he also gains confidence. His walk had always shown confidence but now he moves with a surety that starts to match Wukongs. He’s coming into himself and you find yourself becoming just as enamored with him the more you learn about him. The day he gives you a handsome smile is a day you will remember because your heart skipped several beats.

You grow closer with him and realize just how similar he and Wukong are, the difference is that Wukong had many years on this monkey to build himself up. It’s only a matter of time for the Destined One to do the same. He even enjoys being close to you and often finds reasons to be near you/touching you. His tail is wrapped around you sometimes in that familiar way Wukong used to do, it makes your heart full and also ache. Sometimes he just does things, acts certain ways that are so reminiscent of Wukong. While other times he does something completely different and new. It keeps you guessing.

When he speaks for the first time it about knocks you over. His voice is the same……your chest pinches hard both with happiness and sadness because damn did you miss his voice. But also, you’re falling in love with the way HE now talks.

You dont push for more from him, unsure for the first time in your life. Because should you? What if he really IS someone totally different but has similar traits? What if he just needs to grow into ‘Wukong’ more? What if hes the same but doesnt feel the same for you?

So many questions run through your head.

But one thing is certain, be it Wukong or Destined One you will support the ever living shit out of whatever he wants to do. Regardless of where your ‘relationship’ stands because you love ‘them’ equally.

And when he finally regains Wukongs memories?

Well…..I’ll leave that brain nugget up to you reader 😊

[devildomwriter]

Lilith’s Life

Appearance

Lilith appears to be a thin pale woman with long pale hair and a set of white wings. She has an off the shoulder floor length dress with puffy sleeves. She was often seen smiling.

Personality

Lilith is hinted to be very playfully and sometimes painfully blunt—When she first met Michael she compared him to a jellyfish which upset him and got her in trouble. She was spoiled by her brothers who completely adored her but she was especially close with Belphegor and Beelzebub who she was almost never seen apart from.

Belphegor notes that when Lilith got mad about something it was hard to snap her out of it, she was also easily scared. As described by Mammon she was very cute and mischievous.

She enjoyed playing hide and go seek and liked visiting the human world with Belphegor. She fell in love with a human, so much so that she’d risk facing the ultimate punishment to save his life.

MC is often described as being very similar to Lilith so it can be assumed Lilith’s personality is also similair.

Lilith’s Life & Legacy

Lilith, like all angels was created by her father, God. She was the youngest of the seven siblings. She became very close to Belphegor and Beelzebub and was almost never seen without them. Lucifer and her other brothers loved her very much even though she sometimes gave Lucifer trouble.

Lilith spent her days happily with her brothers on picnics, playing hide and seek, and flllwing her brothers around. One day she decided to visit the human world with Belphegor and fell in love with it.

Lilith continued visiting the human world without permission and met a human man she fell for. She kept her celestial origins a secret and they presumably were courting.

At one point Lucifer visited the human world to see what kind of man this human was and was relieved when he saw he appeared to be a kind man.

One day the human man was overcome with an incurable illness. Out of desperation to save the man she loved, Lilith stole fruit from the tree of life to save him. For an angel to alter a human’s life span is forbidden, what she did was immediately found out and she was brought before the seraphs (presumably) to hear their judgment.

Lucifer was unable to stop the verdict and Lilith was sentenced: to be wiped from existence (OG game), have her wings taken from her and cast into the darkness to wander for eternity and never be reborn (Nightbringer)

Lucifer had already had thoughts of leaving the celestial realm but with this verdict he and his brothers decided they couldn’t sit back and let that happened and Lucifer began the war. Lucifer did not insist his brothers follow him into battle but they did so anyway for Lilith’ sake.

It’s not clear if Lilith was imprisoned and later freed, but she did take part in the war.

On the day of the fall a spear was aimed at her at the same time Belphegor was targeted, Beelzebub could only save one and chose Belphegor. He described Lilith having terror and sadness in her eyes as she was struck (implied to be her wing that was hit) and they all fell.

Bleeding and unable to use her wings to save her, Lilith fell to the Devildom. As an angel it wasn’t the fall that nearly killed her but the celestial weapon combined with the Devildom air in her weak state. Lilith did not turn into a demon when she fell as she was meant to die.

Lucifer found her and pledged his loyalty to Diavolo to save her in time. Diavolo risked war to save Lilith by having her reborn as a human. In the game it’s not specified if he simply altered her genetics and erased her memories and sent her back to the human world or if he had her reincarnated, but in the comics it is shown Lilith was turned into an infant and literally reborn.

Not much is known about what happened to Lilith after this. She had no memory of being an angel, of the war, and of her dear family. Since we do not know in the game if she was still grown and able to reunite with her love we don’t know if she ended up with him in the end; however she would fall in love and marry and have at least one child. She is stated to have had a long and happy life as a human.

Upon her death, Lilith remembered everything, about her brothers, being an angel, the war, and Lucifer’s sacrifice for her. Lilith did not go into the light, instead she stayed behind to watch her brothers as a spirit. She stayed for so long that she forgot how to go to the light and waited for an opportunity to say goodbye though she didn’t have the strength.

In the game, Lilith is able to use some power to send a RAD application profile of MC to Lucifer’s feet by having the window fly open. Lucifer chose MC for this reason and Lilith was able to use her descendant to help her brothers. MC would have visions of Lilith’s life including Lucifer’s final words to her, they repeated these words to Lucifer to prove they were Lilith’s descendant.

Lilith thanks MC for their help and is able to move on.

In the comics, MC uses some of their power to have Lilith appear before the brothers one last time so they can say proper goodbyes before she finally ascends into the light.

Summary

Some may criticize Lilith for what happened in the wake of her actions to save her love. But who can really blame her? She fell in love with someone, she’d do anything for them, she’d die for them and she did. In desperation to save her love, she did not think about the consequences and even if she had, I can’t imagine she’d have thought her brothers would start a war.

Lilith’s death severely traumatized her brothers but this wasn’t something she could prevent, she was shot and unable to use her wings to save herself. After her death she watched over them and lead MC to them to save them from their pain and help them bond.

Lilith’s legacy includes her descendants who all had angel blood through her but no one was able to use these powers (presumably) until MC made pacts with power demons.

In the end, Lilith’s legacy is MC, a human who is pivotal in uniting the three worlds all because of Lilith’s love and ultimate sacrifice for someone she loved.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Miguel barely allowed himself the moment of reprieve primarily for the reasoning that evil never sleeps and therefore by that logic, he shouldn’t have to either; or at least minimise his sleep to accommodate for longer night patrols. His desire to keep his city safe was admirable but soon become detrimental to his health as his body -despite the genetic splicing- was starting to collapse on him due to frequent neglect of the basic bodily needs.

It hurts you to see him like that and you knew that if he were to be confronted about it, Miguel would immediately become dismissive by stating that this method was completely logical from his standpoint, as it was a means to minimise the criminal activity within the city. Miguel always thought it was his responsibility to crack down on the crime rate, even though there were people who’s jobs were to do exactly that, but in Miguel’s eyes their methods of detaining criminals was comparatively a slap on the wrist as to what punishment they should be receiving.

All came ahead one night when he returned home particularly more battered then usual and on the verge of collapse; you were quick to act in stabilising his upper body in your arms but in due to his muscular form, you were both forcibly brought down to kneeling in the dimly light room that had the curtains drawn for convenience.

‘Miguel, what happened out there?’ You said as softly as you could as you moved your hands to hold his jaw with tenderness, as to not inflict more pain by accidentally applying pressure to the many cuts and bruises that littered his worn but handsome face. ‘Just caught a bad night, it’s nothing I can’t handle.’ He tells you as he’s pushing your hands away from his face, thinking that would be enough to reassure you when all it only proved to do was the opposite effect; Even as your watching him make an valiant effort to stand but from the way he was griping onto the bed frame like a lifeline or crutch, it wasn’t hard to tell that whatever happened out that had already begun to take it’s hold long before he arrived home.

Riddled with worry and annoyance at how nonchalant he was about his condition, you soon got up off the floor and made a reach for his arm that was leaning reliantly on the bedpost, feeling the muscles as they tensed under your touch. ‘This isn’t just nothing though, is it Miguel. I mean look at you, you’re barely able to walk on your own without needing something to use for support.’ You heard him sigh deeply as he then spoke. ‘How I’m doing hasn’t got anything to do with you, y/n, I’m capable of looking after myself.’

His words were with thinly laced with venom but you merely scoffed, knowing by now that he didn’t have it in him to hurt you, not that he ever would, he’d never forgive himself if you hurt on his watch and by his hands by that, but his stubbornness and inability to let others help him had finally became his Achilles heel. ‘You know damn well that’s not what I was implying, I know you can handle yourself in the most toughest of situations but is it such a disservice to yourself to rely on others now and then.’ Miguel didn’t say anything and you took that as your cue to keep talking while you still had his attention.

‘Look,’ you stepped closer to him so that you could see his face, his brows were heavily furrowed and his jaw was in the motion of clenching but flinched when reaching a particularly bruised spot; He looked like the image of what you thought a war torn angel would look like, he bared his flaws like scars that were scattered across his perfectly sculptured body whilst also keeping intact his god gifted beauty.

Miguel was perfect in every way to you but to himself he might as well have been the devil reincarnate. ‘I know you want to help the city but how can you when your own body is falling apart before you. You can shoulder the responsibility all you want but sooner or later that responsibility is going to start crushing you under it’s immeasurable weight and no matter how hard you push back, it’ll only push back harder.’ You trailed your hand down his arm until it rested upon the back of his much larger, stronger one and squeezing it. ‘I just wish you trusted me more because I’m more then willing to help but I can’t if you aren’t willing to let me.’

You both stood in silence as the nightlife of the city just outside the window continued on undisrupted and unaware of your squabble, all that could be heard was your in tandem breathing and the muffled laughter of passersby, which only felt to have gotten louder with the time spent without a response from the male next to you as your hope for Miguel to see reason seemed to dwindle; why couldn’t he see that you were merely thinking of his well-being and didn’t wish to see him end up dead in an alleyway you couldn’t reach.

You didn’t know if you could bare to stomach something like that ever being the possibility and you didn’t wish to be plagued by the what ifs, going insane by wondering how differently things would’ve turned out had you stepped in earlier and you certainly didn’t want to be burdened with the guilt and the depression that would soon follow afterward to remind you of your shortcomings; You didn’t wish that ending for Miguel for he deserved a far better one that ended on his own terms.

Just as you were about to give up all hope and leave him to his own devices, begrudgingly accepting that you couldn’t get through to him, the hand you were grasping moved to intertwine your fingers together, although gingerly as though Miguel was half expecting you to pull away but when you didn’t, his hand then proceeded encased yours entirely. ‘For the record I do trust you.’ He said. ‘I probably trust you more then I’ve ever trusted anyone for you’ve never made me think twice about ever placing my trust in you because you always end up proving why I chose to let you in. I’m sorry that I don’t open up as easily when it comes to help but I just didn’t want to make your life more of a incoherent mess because of me.’

‘My life was already an incoherent mess before you came along, if anything the moment you became apart of my everyday life it became a little more clearer to me as to what to do with my life.’ You told him.

‘And what’s that?’ He asked.

You smirked as you nudged his arm slightly. ‘To make sure your stubborn ass doesn’t get killed prematurely.’

Miguel scoffed but couldn’t help the smile stretching across his lips at the sound of your laughter, something that was much needed after a night like tonight as to remind him what he was coming home to after every patrol; the heavenly sound that was your laugh he swore had some hidden abilities for each and every time he heard it, he immediately felt better. ‘That’s funny but I’m pretty sure I’m we should be doing something about now.’ He responded blankly but you could see the humour in his scarlet eyes.

[snepril]

I'm a trans woman and I'm otherkin. Both labels describe parts of me, but neither describes all of me. Yet at the same time, they're both closely intertwined, both key parts of my discovery of who I am - and both more alike than one might expect.

I knew I wasn't supposed to be a guy. Even from a young age, I was drawn to feminine things. I wanted to be a girl - I just didn't have the words to say it, didn't understand why I felt the way I did. And as I grew older, that feeling crystalized. I tried to deny it, to pretend it didn't matter. Besides, it was never the conventional picture of dysphoria - I could manage being a guy. It was tolerable. That was enough, right?

But it wasn't what I wanted. I knew I'd be happier as a woman - I knew it with a certainty and clarity I could never put to words. I knew, and the moment I realized there was a path forward, a way to be who I knew I wanted to be, I took it. I transitioned. It cost me a lot - my home, my years spent in college, my friends and stability - and it was all worth it. Having that weight off my chest, getting to live as who I always wanted to be... it made everything else so much easier. It's like a good night's sleep - sure, you can manage without for a while, but it saps your strength, makes everything else so much harder.

But as I transitioned, as I embraced my life as a woman, I realized... I wasn't quite where I wanted to be. I was closer - so much closer - but I wasn't there yet. There were a lot of little things I wanted to change about myself... and one big one.

I wanted to be something other than human.

At first I denied it, pretended it didn't matter. I had done so many things I'd never thought possible - I'd transitioned, I had a good job and was living on my own. I had good friends and the freedom to steer my own life. Wasn't that enough?

And those words were familiar. The feeling was familiar. It didn't take me long to put two and two together. And when, one day, an impulse art commission gave me my first ever picture of myself as a sphinx...

...I knew. I knew that this feeling was the exact same one that drove me to transition. I knew denying it would work about as well as denying that I'm a woman. So I decided not to. I decided to accept who I am.

I'm a woman, and I'm a sphinx. I'm transgender, and I'm otherkin.

Otherkin. Somehow, it's an even more loaded word than transgender. It implies so much, and that made it harder to accept. I don't believe in other realities or reincarnation. I don't believe I was a sphinx in a past life or other world - I'm really not spiritual at all. So how can I call myself a sphinx if, objectively, I know I've got the body of a plain old human?

The same way I knew I was a woman.

I'm not ignorant of my biology. I know what's coded into my DNA and what my body is shaped like. But why should any of that have any say on who I am? I'm more than my body, more than the chance outcome of genetics and evolution. I get to decide who I am - and I choose to be a woman, and I choose to be a sphinx. Why? Because it makes me happy. Because it feels right. Because it's my life to live and I get to live it how I want, so long as that doesn't hurt anyone else. Sure, I can't transition to be a sphinx in real life (not with modern technology, anyway), but when has an inability to transition ever made anyone's identity any less valid? I'll do what I can to make my body more comfortable and live with the rest, because the alternative - pretending what I feel doesn't matter - isn't living.

I'm a transgender woman.

I'm an otherkin sphinx.

And I'm happy.

[yellowocaballero]

One of the many things that I've been doing instead of writing are these damn manwha binges and Villain To Kill is literally so funny. The comic premise is straightforward action, think Tokyo Ghoul meets Solo Leveling - local Genetically Superpowered Superhero Cop working for corrupt Hero Organization gets #betrayed and #murdered and is reincarnated into the body of a Genetically Superpowered Villain Teenager so now he has to join up with all the other villain superpower people to get justice.

It's so 5/10. Cassian is extremely OP and the story isn't well-written enough to pull that off well. The worldbuilding is so incredibly nonsensical and weak that it falls apart if you think about it for more than five minutes (tried to write fic for it and failed because I would have had to rework the entire world - which, I could have, but that's a lot of effort for Villain to Kill). The plot is mostly any OP action hero plot where guy gets increasingly powerful by fighting increasingly powerful guys. Cassian himself has almost nothing going on internally, to the point of elegance. And it is somehow the gayest manwha I've ever read.

It's the fucking character designs. And like its narrative but it's the fucking 100/10 character designs. The entire cast's design and characters slam. There's not that much depth but we don't care. You know if we don't like somebody if they look vaguely straight, and you know that we like somebody if they look like they were set to tumble dry in the queerness washing machine. The (great!) women are high femme or hard butch. The corrupt institution assassinated a man Cassian loved and framed & murdered him, at which point he was adopted by a rag-tag bunch of flamboyant homosexuals deemed unacceptable and undesired by society who all teamed up and decided to villainize society in exclusively funny ways and spend most of their time gossiping or hacking the Pentagon. An AFAB character dresses as a man and goes by he/him pronouns half the time for no good reason. Cassian is physiologically incapable of thinking about anything but violence so the heartwarming found family scenario's going over his head, but his Painfully Het Hero Foil Indoctrinated Into Homophobia caught the found family ball and now he's dancing in their gay bars and dressing in drag. There's only a few characters who are explicitly gay but this is gayer than that.

I talked a while back about how important a decent supporting cast is to a good story, and this is yet again good proof. Looking at this, I think I'd go further and say - it's an action manwha, we're reading it for a reason, we don't need character-driven story arcs or really complex characters. I think it's just charisma. A story can go really far on characters with charisma.

TV Shows that are carried on the lead actor (Columbo I love you) - it's because the actor has charisma. You watch it to see the actor hang out being himself. That's way way harder to do in fiction, but I think that "a complex character" isn't necessarily a "charismatic character". I'd rather have a cast of only charismatic characters rather than only complex ones. A story of any genre needs a strong cast of charismatic characters. They can be deep or they can just be chaotic lesbians. Charisma invests the reader in the story and the characters. It's simple but it's really powerful. And it is fucking hilarious how sometimes all you need to do on that front is "Rupaul this shit".

I can't genuinely recommend Villain to Kill and this is not a recommendation. But random stuff always interests me like this, and I really had no idea that I would read 120ch of a manwha bc the designs fuck so hard. Also, like, this is queerest manwha I've ever read. Somehow. Fucking somehow.

[tobiasdrake]

Does Perfect Cell have Agency?

Cell is... difficult to get a read on, as a character. The extreme jankiness of the Android arc left us with an oddball of a villain whose level of wickedness doesn't seem in line with the scope of his motives.

Cell is a weird character for me because he just seems... unfinished but also overly symbolic moreso than a literal person.

What does PIccolo actually want? He wants to kill everyone because he's mindlessly evil. After he reincarnates, the question "What does Piccolo actually want?" becomes a major facet of his journey.

What does Frieza actually want? He wants to kill planets and sell them for profit because he's a real estate speculator, and also to be immortal and untouchable. This extreme want coupled with the callousness with which he pursues it is what fuels his unbelievable cruelty and heartlessness, and makes him the most evil person in the Dragon Ball universe.

What does Majin Buu want? Again, this question becomes a major facet of his journey and opens up new sides to him, because Buu himself doesn't know the answer to that.

Which. Brings us to. What does Cell want?

He likes to spook. He wants to have fun. He's a spooker looking for a good time.

Cell's primary goal is to a) become really strong, and then b) prove his mettle by testing himself against the greatest fighters in the world. He's a tournament arc villain presented with the gravitas and stakes of an epic adventure villain.

It's wild because everybody here wants to get really strong and then prove their mettle by fighting Goku. That's what this whole social dynamic is about. That is literally the main goal that everyone in this group pursues. Well, except Trunks and Gohan.

In a sense, Cell's just... one of the guys. Like. He's a rotten dirty bastard to be sure. But it's not like that's a barrier for entry into this group.

"I WILL KILL AS MANY PEOPLE AS I HAVE TO AS LONG AS YOU ARE ONE OF THEM!" ~TFS

So his goal is to get strong and fight strong guys. But. Like. Who's isn't?

And he's a cruel, sadistic monster. But. Like. We're fine with that. Vegeta's our bestie and Piccolo joined this crew way before he reformed too.

This guy could legit just be hosting the Tenkaichi Budokai. (And he DOES.) In terms of overarching character, nothing about him reads "Epic villain that must be stopped at all costs". So Toriyama really had to ratchet up the moment-by-moment horror to make him fit.

What Cell wants is not that big a deal. Get strong, fight strong guys, and also he's an asshole about it. So he's given a vile mechanism for attaining the strength he needs. In his base state, Cell can drink people to gain their power for himself.

He's basically Piccolo if Piccolo were born a parasitic vampire instead of a flesh-and-blood Namekian? It's weird. His whole introduction where he walks out and explains his entire character so Toriyama's pal will get off his back about the Twins is weird.

"Hi there, Piccolo. Did you know that I'm an evil bio-android from the future who wants to absorb the Twins to become really powerful? Also I eat people and I have the genetic makeup of five of the most powerful warriors in the universe, as well as having all of their techniques and abilities. I think that about covers everything. Toodles!"

So we have a character whose primary goal is to defeat the two characters who, up until this point, were billed as the antagonists and are currently seeking to kill Goku as we speak. Like. That's Trunks. Cell is Trunks again. So to make it read as sinister and bad, the means for him to achieve Trunks's goal requires him to kill people in visceral and horrifying ways, and also he's a jerk about it.

This is far from the worst thing a Dragon Ball character, even the ones on the protagonist side, has ever done. But it's so viscerally horrifying that it feels like the worst thing they've ever done.

Then again, that guy was part of the 1% so maybe it's deserved.

Truly, Cell is a champion of the underclass. He's literally eating the rich. What's not to like?

I jest. Point is, Cell is a villain of vibes more than anything. In practical terms, Vegeta gleefully slaughtered entire planets and Majin Buu exterminated 80% of the world's population for fun. In fact, Buu even single-targets people and turns them into food to chomp down on too, so he and Cell have a lot in common.

To be perfectly honest, Buu feels like a second draft of Cell with more time and thought put into his character.

So, logically, eating a bunch of people isn't that big of a deal relative to some of the other shit that people we're hanging out with have done. Hell, we spend a portion of this arc helping to power up Vegeta to stop Mr. City Devourer over here.

"Hey best buddy, you're a remorseless monster who's slaughtered billions of people and is only chill now because you're stranded on Earth with no better options. Want to come with me so we can make you a hundred times deadlier and fight this guy who wants to eat the Androids that destroyed the world in the future?"

And then Cell's over here like.

"All done eating people. Thanks y'all." Like a parasitic version of the Genki-Dama. Uh. Cool. Glad we could help. Let's go Dragon Balls them all back to life and then I guess we're done here?

It's the vibe. Cell's wickedness is a vibe. It's in the means he needs to undergo to achieve the ends of becoming strong. It's in the sadistic personality he shares with 4/5 of his genetic makeup (two of whom are in the protag party). And it's in his long-term plans for what to do after the tournament when he runs out of strong guys to fight.

It's like they ran out of ideas for why we even need to fight this guy once he ate the Androids and completed our mission of defeating them and thwarting Trunks's future. So Cell's like, "By the way if we don't defeat me in an epic climax, I'm going to aimlessly wander the globe killing humans individually forever, I guess."

No real ambitions of any kind beyond "Get strong, fight strong guys". He just. Is a dick.

This is sandwiched between vanquishing the CEO of Galactic Genocide Incorporated and fighting a god-killing abomination who made the heavens themselves run red with blood. Cell wants to get strong and fight strong guys, and he'll become Jason Voorhees if we don't deliver. That's it. That's the entire plot. It's so weird. He's the ultimate despicable monster villain up to this point but it doesn't really feel like he should be.

Cell isn't really a character, so much as he is an idea. Specifically, he is a summary of Goku's entire journey up to this point, all rolled up into this one asshole. He is Goku, and also the major villains Goku has fought.

He is the Tenkaichi Budokai.

He's a limit-breaking Super Saiyan who becomes stronger through Namekian Fusion of others like him and also regenerates and gets Zenkai boosts.

He is the concept of everything that Dragon Ball has ever been.

Hey remember when Piccolo-Daimao blew up that one district during a live broadcast? Do you remember? Cell is Playing the Hits, The Character. But with purpose and intent.

This is why it's hard for me to get a read on Cell. Because who he is isn't so different from much of the cast but what he needs to be is something else: He is the complete assessment of the journey Goku's undertaken over the course of his life, presented all at once for Gohan to surpass.

The physical embodiment of what Gohan must overcome to be his father's successor.

His character, his motives, his ambitions, his desires, it all takes a backseat to the simple utilitarian purpose of providing a symbolic nemesis to mark Gohan's ascension. Hastily assembled once Toriyama decided that was going to be the real actual plot for realsies no takebacks this time.

It's hard for me to assess Cell because I feel too strongly that he needed a second draft.

Which. Like. Apparently Toriyama agreed.

As a character and as a story, Majin Buu is hit or miss but he hits most of the same beats as Cell and really does feel like Toriyama trying to take a mulligan on this entire villain concept.

Mileage may vary on whether he pulled it off.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Some Tang-y asks;

Both asks referencing; this previous about Tang realising his buddies are the Monkey King and the Six Eared Macaque + he's the godfather to their upcoming baby.

Tang is freaking tf out after the shock/fainting wears off. His academic career has revolved around the Journey to the West and connected mythology. Even as a lowly libarian who does mythology talks on the side, even he recognises that this is historical Iridium. He has *The People Who Were There* in his apartment (eating his chips)!!

Afterwards he has a moment of; "Oh gods, I've pretty much adopted the Monkey King." since he's been helping the monkeys learn how to read/write in modern chinese and generally giving Wukong life advice in the manner of a father-figure (all mid-twenty years of him).

And although he def shares all his secret wuxia and isekai fantasies with Macaque (fantasy nerd to theatre nerd communication); he certainly didn't expect to end up like This.

Tang knows he at least has a genetic link to the historical Tang dynasty - something he isn't really proud of since he's been kicked out by his parents. But with all the Monkey King stuff starting to pile up, he wonders...

Then he gets kidnapped by a firey toddler calling him "The Tang Monk", and is told to help out in a super specific ritual that requires the skill of an enlightened sage. Tang faints in the backseat of Red Son's mini-car when the penny drops. His frantic call to Pigsy straight afterwards is a babbling info-dump that sounds more like a cicada screaming.

Bonus ask!: Did Wukong *know* that Pigsy and Tang were reincarnations of his friends?

Sort of.

You see, after the Harbringer accidentally got sealed in Macaque (and the shadow monkey was still passed out); Wukong asked Guanyin to help him seek guidance from his old master - since he isn't exactly able to contact the Pure Lands himself. Guanyin tries calling up the Golden Cicada and... she appears to a confused, bleary-eyed Tang in the noodle shop at like 11pm. Even the bodhisattva is confused. Tang Sanzang/Tripitaka was supposed to be the last Golden Cicada incarnation. Tf is he hanging out on earth for?

Guanyin mentions this fact to SWK, and Wukong has a heart-stopping second of "Oh sweet buddha, Master is alive!!", before the goddess confirms otherwise. Wukong is super-confused, and a little disappointed, but really wants to seek out this new version of the GC even if for his own comfort. He's given a vague direction of where his master's soul is now residing, and the bodhisattva doesn't discourage him from following it. Wukong does hide his main reason for hiding in the city when Mac wakes up.

Eventually as the duo are ducking the sight of curious local demons/human (the meteorite and battle on the mountain def drew attention), Mac and Wukong bump into a strangely famililar face...

You see, after Tang literally glimpsed at the Goddess of Mercy, he became super-awake and rambled to Pigsy about his vision. Pigsy, despite being dismissive of most magic talk, thought that his suspicions of the meteor shower being a "sign" could be correct. The two went downstairs to eat/talk about what Tang's vision of Guanyin could mean.

Ironically, it's Pigsy who catches the monkeys walking down the street. He'd gone out to grab something from the convenience store and saw the two young, kinda skinny-looking, monkey demons arguing and trying to dodge the rain. The ginger-haired of the two shielding the darker-furred one with an old cape.

Pigsy has a moment of "No. No no no no. Good samaritan sh*t only gets you hurt." before he recognises something off about the two "kids" words. And with Tang's talk about having a vision of the Goddess of Mercy...

"Mihou": "This is all your fault!" "Wu": "How is it all my fault?!" "Mihou": "You put this... this thing in me! Now we've got no money, our magic isn't working, we can't go home, and we don't even have shelter for the night! I'm so..." *crying* "I have no idea what to do Wu..." "Wu", holding the other's face: "Hey, hey, it's ok Mihou. We'll figure this out." *presses foreheads together* "I won't let anything happen to you or the ki... guess it's too early at the moment. Egg, I guess?" *goofy, hopeful smile* "Mihou", sniffling: "You're so dumb."

They hear a cough beside them and turn. Wukong looks at the face illuminated by the neon of the storefront like its wearing a halo. It can't be!

Pigsy, holding grocery bags: "Hey... you kids sound like you're in a tough spot right now. If you need a roof over your head 'til the rain eases off, my restaurant is around the corner. Door's opened either way."

Wukong happily jumps at the offer, seeing the familiar glow of his pilgrim brother's soul resting warmly in the cook's body. Macaque is super sus of the situation; he kinda recognises the face infront of him but he just knows it isn't Zhu Bajie. The tired, sincere look on the demon's face is far too unalike the greedy gluttonous fool he'd seen getting his King into so much trouble. Just for now will he trust only his instincts - which at the moment wish for him to get dry.

Wukong sees it as a sign from the Buddha. Clearly someone is looking out for them. Even if this isn't Zhu Bajie, and the man inside the noodle shop isn't his master, then something in the Pure Lands or Diyu has shifted to allow them to reunite in this life - just in time for the King's heir responsibility to be brought into the world.

And then Pigsy ruffles his hair? Calls him "kid"? And then Tang is helping him with his writing? And telling him all the stories he's heard a million times in a way thats never boring?

Wukong feels queasy in a good way. He doesn't know how to describe it. He cries when he sees the silly mock shop logo he drew pinned to the corkboard by the kitchen - pinned amongst the pig-chef's most prized moments in his cooking journey. He doesn't know why he's crying but it feels like something he's been left out of for so long... thats the moment he decides that Pigsy and Tang (+Sandy) would be the godparents of the Egg. He just knows they'd all be great parents cus they already are.

[sirellas]

rightful heir is insane for the Implications. okay so there's this guy who was cloned from leftover DNA of the real kahless (with you so far) but also he's got fuzzy memories of being the real kahless implanted into his brain (?? okay...?) and he was just woken up/brought into existence at the exact moment the priest guys needed him to appear (when worf shows up, the main character of klingons) so this is really his first moment of being a person and he's In It, he's ready to GO right away. no learning how to walk, no confusion, no "hey guys what's been going on since i died", and he's ready to overthrow the current government DAY ONE. nope don't tell him anything, he already knows your chancellor sucks and the klingon spirit is corrupted. and he knows about worf's childhood moses moment where he/kahless appeared to worf to tell him to sparkle on it's worf wednesday my dude (very specific memory) but he can't remember details of his famous stories (are we saying his worf-related memories are real because worf really was the believer who brought his spirit back? mixed in with some good old fashioned priest cloning)

BUT he's a shit fighter. i mean he's not terrible but he's not mythical godlike warrior levels, so he does have some physical adjustment stumbling, but only when pressed. his weakness should have been like. learning how to digest solid food. not advanced combat. i mean don't get me wrong that's a very klingon weakness but it still raises a lot of questions. and kahless 2 has ZERO questions about this whole scheme until he loses to gowron in a fight. if we go with the Implications and assume this is the spirit of the real kahless dropped into his clone's body, the rest of this guy's whole deal is wild!!! he's just vibing! he's having spiritual awakenings certain human religious figures could only dream of achieving. even if we DON'T buy into the true reincarnation aspect, he's still the genetic clone of the klingon people's greatest hero with all the knowledge of the klingon religion in his head. like a factory made condensed klingon heritage all in one guy. which has gotta be a fun time for him (not really). his personality is Honor and his occupation is Faith. and he is technically a BABY.

and then worf is like "look idk if i believe in reincarnation (maybe haha) but i do believe in causing problems, let's see where he's going with this" and makes him a figurehead emperor. and of course by this point 2 fast 2 kahless is starting his "maybe i really am a fake" journey (which should've happened when he first heard someone sneeze and freaked out) so he just goes along with it. anyway. maybe the real kahless was the Implications we didn't fully explore along the way.

[accala]

We all know how uncanny Sephiroth is at times. But has anyone ever thought that the entire party (Cloud, Tifa, Aerith, etc.) are as uncanny as well? They all came from a planet that’s sentient and possibly sapient. They all came from a reincarnation cycle that gives its beings abilities out of the norm (human or otherwise). Hell, they have chickens the size of a horse that attacks people for monsters. And don’t get me started on humans, especially the party members.

Tifa, Yuffie, Cid, and Barret are all party members who are supposed to be the unenhanced part of the group—those who don’t come from an extinct race that grants you special abilities and those who weren’t experimented on. And yet, in battle, they possess this inhumane strength and endurance on par with a SOLDIER’s. It’s more apparent with Tifa who can smash concrete with her fists and send people flying away. On that note, even the Turks can go toe-to-toe with Cloud at times. Materia may be a factor in aiding them to do such a feat. But the fact that they can even use Materia in the first place—you’d need to come from the life blood of the Planet to use these—is uncanny in itself.

Furthermore, their appearance looks vaguely off. They look LIKE humans. But they don’t look human if you get what I mean (The enlarged eyes, weird hair & eye colors, etc). Reno, in particular, has red hair and skin markings (or are those scars?); and it seems that he was born with these features. Characters like Cloud Strife who do have normal hair and eye colors still look vaguely off because they have features that should be genetically impossible. So yes, I’m saying they’re all aliens.

But then again this IS a video game running on video game logic. It’s just fun to think about if we compare them to real life humans.

[tenebriskukris]

Oshi No Ko Chapter 163 - My Thoughts/Analysis

Three chapters before the end. I don’t expect anything more than a horribly written, badly paced mess of a final few chapters by this point, but maybe the manga will surprise me. By being even worse than I’ve come to anticipate.

Interesting way to start off the chapter. We’re back with Goro for some reason? And Sarina after what is likely some surgery? This definitely didn’t actually happen. It almost reeks of a happy “what-if” scenario right here.

The next few panels seem to solidify that. It’s some sort of delusional happy ending for Sarina and Goro. Neither of them were so lucky in their fates so as to almost get everything they wanted.

Sarina recovering and becoming a B-Koamchi idol alongside Ai…it’s cute and all, but I’m more interested in the why this is being shown rather than marvel at this pitiful attempt at moving the reader’s heartstrings. I’d be more willing to engage with the narrative and have more sympathy for everyone involved here except for the fact that all these recent chapters have just eroded my ability to care with some of the worst writing that I’ve seen in a piece of media since the later seasons of Game of Thrones. Actually no, that’s an insult to GoT—at the very least the earlier seasons of that show were actually good, while as much as people harp on about the earlier parts of OnK, that much is mostly because the anime carried its mediocre story.

Is this a dream? And now we’re back with Aqua and Crow Girl. Are we deus ex machena-ing now?

The world is a virtual image created by observation. Not everything is true. It’s like the world looked completely different before and after you were reborn. Crow Girl is Literally Just Saying Words. It’s so unsubstantial that it feels like I’m chewing on air. These words don’t even fucking relate to this entire dream sequence at large!

In the end, who was I? Are we going to finally get the nail in the coffin for people who don’t want to believe that Aqua=Goro?

Was this actually the wrong choice? AQUA YOU LITERALLY HAD TIME TO CONSIDER THIS POSSIBILITY WHEN YOU PLANNED THIS DOUBLE SUICIDE BULLSHIT. If you were hesitant in leaving everyone else behind, you could’ve, you know, not fucking went after Hikaru after Nino was captured? If he feels sad over leaving people behind there are so many ways for him to survive these contrived series of events that I’m sorry, Aqua you’ve done fucked up. He’s had more than enough time to plan out a series of events that doesn’t end with him dying, so Aqua “regretting” that he might’ve caused more trouble with his actions is just so stupid that it kills my suspension of disbelief faster than Goro falling to his death in the first chapter. 

Through reincarnation, you possessed Goro Amamiya’s memories and will [...] however within your body there are genetic factors that were inherited from Ai and Kamiki. Interesting that she doesn’t mention the concept of a soul here, but everything related to Crow Girl is just a nonsensical thematic mess half the time. Considering that she said that Ai’s children were soulless in one of her first appearances I’m surprised that people take these words to mean that Aqua=/= Goro when the rebuttal to that argument is given so early on in the manga.

This entire bit of Crow Girl hugging Aqua and holding his face and such…I dunno. I don’t quite know how to feel about it? What’s with all this sympathy for Aqua when she was sitting on the fence and giving out breadcrumbs to Aqua and Ruby? If she cared enough to stop this scenario she could’ve easily pulled enough strings as a fucking god to save him, since she is Right There to keep Aqua from dying. I would say that it’s almost out of character, but that gives this series too much credit because Crow Girl is more of a plot device rather than an actual character.

The rest of these scenes are nice except they feel too much like throwing a pity party when Everything that came before it was just so shite that this payoff tastes cheap. I’m supposed to feel emotions coming from this scene, but all I can think of is how fucking stupid these last few chapters were if this was the end result of that entire clusterfuck. It doesn’t hit its mark by a long shot. 

That was all of you, Aqua Hoshino. And with that, all that is left is the keychain. I’m sure that Ruby’s going to be holding onto that keychain for dear life alongside Aqua himself soon enough.

That’s it??? There are—were—four chapters in this blasted manga to get through and THIS is one of those chapters??? As heartbreaking and or heartwarming as this chapter was, it could’ve easily been folded into the last one simply because there wasn’t much substance from this chapter or the last! Hell, even putting that aside, with only a handful of chapters left in the series this chapter should’ve been focused on something more substantial rather than deal with character beats that should’ve been very well established beforehand!

Let’s get down to business. Do I think Aqua is going to live after this chapter? My answer hasn’t changed since the last chapter, but I do have more thoughts to give on it now that this chapter’s dropped.

There are only three more chapters left in this bloody series. Three chapters to wrap up the story as we know it so far. As much as I greatly dislike the way Aqua’s revenge plot has panned out, with Hikaru pretty much down for the count as of this chapter, I think plotline that much has been dealt with. That only leaves a couple of loose ends to wrestle with. If the manga is keeping up this breakneck pace to the end, then I do think it’s possible to wrap this whole mess up. It won’t be the best way to do so by a long shot, but it’ll certainly end. There’s just one thing that I think has to be addressed in the span of these final chapters.

An author has a responsibility to wrap up loose threads when a series inevitably gets closer to the ending. While this series has dispensed with many, many small plot threads that have headed nowhere in order to sprint towards the end of the manga, there is one plotline that I believe needs to be dealt with before the series concludes. The issue of Aqua and his love interests. For better or worse, this plotline has defaulted to one of, if not the main hook of the series since the revenge plot has been so shallow throughout a good majority of the series.

There needs to be a clear “winner” for the Aquabowl, so to speak. 

While fans on all sides will point to various chapters and say, Aqua has romantic feelings for Kana, or, Aqua wants to rekindle his relationship with Akane, or Aqua loves Ruby, the sheer fact that multiple of these interpretations exist within the context of the series itself this close to the ending needs to be addressed. Love triangles often soak the reader with intrigue and suspense before being dispensed of later down the line after it has served its narrative purpose. If the series isn’t going to pivot towards an open ending, then that needs to be addressed before the end.

Killing Aqua off here would render all that utterly meaningless. It would be unsatisfying in a way that would forever damn it simply because of the fact that it’s the equivalent of pushing the reader’s face into a plate of shit and the author saying, “Wow! That’s a good ending because it made you feel bad!”, when after such an event the reader would like nothing more than to refund the time investment they had in said media. It’s daft. It’s insulting. It is essentially telling the fans that all of the time they spent with this character and the romance angle—doubly so because of the fact that this little romance angle had little to no plot relevance for the vast majority of the series—was worth less than nothing because Aqua was going to die all along—and he even didn’t die dramatically, either, though maybe that would’ve softened the blow, but he died in a horribly executed confrontation that culminated in a half baked dream sequence where there were more than a handful of ways for him to come out of it alive.

While there are media that can intentionally make an unsatisfying ending work, with how these past few chapters have been, such an ending would likely fall flat for an abundance of reasons—but since we’re just talking hypotheticals, I won’t make any sweeping statements just yet.

Of course, all of this assumes that the authors are, you know, making good narrative decisions. The buckshot pacing and flow of the last ten, twenty, even thirty chapters have just been a complete garbage heap in quality. There are many things I can feel in predicting within a series that’s still ongoing thanks to performing enough media analysis and understanding how stories like OnK are structured as well as the tropes therein.

What I cannot predict are the authors making irrational(read: BAD) decisions and or torching the media and running. It’s why I was so vehemently against the idea that Akane wearing a fucking wig and disguising herself as Ruby to fool Nino. It’s why having both Aqua and Akane independently coming to the conclusion that Yura was murdered was such a surprise to me. It’s why Aqua meeting Crow Girl offscreen wasn’t something that I’d seriously considered before I read that chapter.

These are, quite frankly, objectively bad decisions. I’d made my disdain for these narrative beats known many, many times throughout my various analyses as well as given my reasoning for Why these decisions are bad, so I’m not going to go over them again, but suffice it to say that these are the type of plot beats that high school teachers tell their students what NOT to do. And yet they happened nonetheless.

I can only predict what a competent author that tries to give payoff to the various plot threads in a piece of media can attempt to do next. What I cannot predict, however, is someone who is haphazardly throwing plot threads and beats around like crumbs throughout the manga with little to no intention of following them up satisfyingly or has any desire to actually pace these chapters with any degree of competence. It’s the equivalent of asking a sane person to try to wrap one’s head around the mind of someone that’s on some of the hardest drugs in the world. There’s literally no use in doing so because both parties have fundamentally different thought processes. The fact that this slop is being published must mean that the editors for this literal godforsaken series must be high, drunk, or are being blackmailed. It’s an insult to all of the actual good manga writers out there that don’t even get a speck of popularity that this series has garnered.

That leads me to my next point. It’s also completely possible that Aqua just fucking dies here. It’d be a horrible decision, don’t get me wrong, but it'd be completely on brand for the series which has already made so many poor choices this close to the end. It’d just be one final shit pie to eat after the author cooked a buffet of garbage.

If that’s the case, I’d expect Ruby following Aqua soon after. Sad, I know, but that girl literally made it her mission to kill Hikaru after she found out that Goro was dead and was willing to go to lengths that Aqua just wasn’t in order to get her revenge. Losing the person she cares about most after finding out he was alive all along only for him to fucking die again??? I wouldn’t be surprised if Ruby just walks into the sea after she hears the news.

Completely unsubstantiated thought that just crossed my mind. Calling it now. Aqua and Ruby both die in the next handful of chapters before they reincarnate once more and then meet each other. It’d be almost an inverse of that whole, “two lovers that committed double suicide get reincarnated as twins” Japanese superstition that I’ve seen talked about. That’d be a godawful ending but we’re already scraping the bottom of the bucket with this series. I wouldn’t put it past this series. It is on the table, after all.

Three chapters left. I’ve lost all hopes for a good ending for the series for some time now, so I’m just sitting on the rollercoaster waiting for the ride to finally come to a close.

[epickiya722]

Saw a tweet about how few shonen MCs "do hard work" and most only get strong through "genetics". And Izuku and Yuji were included in that later category. And it made me want to bite someone.

They must have not seen Izuku do a whole training scene back in the beginning of the story where he CLEANED UP JUNK ON A BEACH. And even after we still get scenes where he works out. Like, the training it for his body to get strong enough for OFA!! How is... how is it through genetics?

With Yuji, that boy was not born normal. Both his parents are human and one of them we know is a curse user who still needs to use cursed energy to be strong. Yuji didn't have cursed energy from what we know. As of 257, it's implied (I'm saying implied because I just feel like someone is gonna say 'no, he wasn't') that Yuji was born with a Cursed Finger already sealed inside him. How did Kenjaku accomplish that, I don't know. But what concerns me a little more is...

If knowing that there's a slim chance of survival consuming a Cursed Finger because it's poisonous... how did Yuji survive his birth?! How?! That's a baby?! Born from human parents?! Hello?! I'm guessing it's because of Jin being a reincarnated soul of Sukuna's twin and twins are considered as one person... but that makes them soul related. We don't know if they're blood related. When you think about it, as an unborn baby Yuji had to literal fight his uncle to survive his birth.

It's not like Yuji hasn't been working hard to get where he is. He applies himself to use jujutsu just like Izuku applies himself to use quirks. Neither of them just sit there and then get up and beat bad guys. No, they did have to work hard.

Yuji knows how to fight BEFORE the events of the story because he took classes.

Honestly, posts like that just seems like another hater trying to take a dig at Izuku and Yuji for whatever reason. They're not a threat to real people, so why people treat them like they are, I don't know.

Like, what did they do for people to constantly take digs at them? I get it if they're not your taste in characters, but to constantly came at them just makes me feel like people like that do like them but don't want to admit it which still doesn't make sense because who are you trying to impress???

[bestworstcase]

...you have instilled A Thought in me, do we even know that Tock was sent by Salem? Afaik there's never been any in-text evidence beyond the assumption that Salem wanted to wipe out SEWs, and I'm not aware of any word-of-god that she was an agent of Salem? Like, our only two "data points" on Salem hunting SEWs is Tock, who we only know was working for someone, and the hound-man, who we know literally nothing about.

I'm about as convinced as can be that Salem has, in fact, spent most of her time just chilling in exile, but I struggle to fully square that with hunting SEWs - what if even that is just another thing Ozma blames on her out of paranoia?

we do, per her amity arena card:

Tock was a proud faunus. She was a predator, a born hunter. It wasn't enough to merely have the green scales, she was a CROC. That meant she needed a nasty bite. It was a tad uncomfortable at times, sure, and took a lot more flossing than she liked, but the looks on her victims' faces when suddenly facing her sharpened metal teeth was worth it. every. time. Master Salem did always warn her, though, to finish her prey before her invulnerability wore off. After all, her aura shattering after those heart pounding sixty seconds was a dangerous price to pay. Still, she could never give up playing with her food, as that was the privilege of a predator, and nothing made Tock feel more alive …than dancing with Death.

and in all fairness to ozma: he’s not the one who proposed that salem has been hunting down silver-eyed warriors. maria’s father* believed that… well, “how could such powerful bloodlines be so rare, unless something was actively seeking to destroy them?” and ruby hears that and goes “salem.”

(*who cannot have been ozma, because maria was among the first generation of huntsmen and her father an old soldier who would’ve been a contemporary of the king of vale)

two obvious flaws in that reasoning:

sometimes a trait is just rare. silver eyes seem to originate from ozma when he has children with partners other than salem, and we know of… two. out of all the lives of his that we’ve glimpsed (four in the lost fable, three in the infinite man, the hermit-wizard, the king of vale, ozpin) only one had children. say it’s been four thousand years and ozma reincarnates, on average, once per century: that’s forty lives. if we’re shown a rough approximation of how often this man has reproduced, he’s only had children in four of them. across four thousand years. no shit they’re rare!

silver eyes are a genetically heritable trait that marks people born with them as destined to “lead the life of a warrior,” to live and die fighting grimm. “unless something was actively seeking to destroy them” YOU MEAN LIKE THE MONSTERS? THE MONSTERS THAT SILVER-EYED WARRIORS ARE LEGENDARY FOR HUNTING? again, no shit it’s a rare trait! warriors, famously, are a lot more likely than most to die young.

add in that oz seems happy to recruit silver-eyed warriors and must know there’s a kernel of truth in the stories, but really doesn’t seem to know much of anything useful—man didn’t so much as mention ruby’s eyes once in v5, he was more concerned with getting her proficient in hand-to-hand combat—and it what it really looks like is that the myths appeal to him as symbols. silver warriors are pure, incorruptible, destined heroes… smaller, more honest souls… et cetera.

it’s the actual silver-eyed warriors going “i can do WHAT NOW with my eyes!? how can this power be so rare, so obscure?”

anyway. our data points are:

maria, a legendary silver-eyed huntress whom salem definitively sent tock to assassinate something like 40-50 years ago

hound guy (??????????)

hazel saying of silver-eyed warriors “we’ve dealt with their kind before,” which might be in reference to hound guy.

summer rose, who joined salem.

not a data point strictly speaking, but worth taking into account: silver eyes are said over and over again to be very rare, so salem logically can’t be offing them by the score, nor keeping dozens locked up in a laboratory somewhere. there just aren’t enough of them!

also not strictly a data point: two empty seats at salem’s table, one of them accounted for by summer rose. if summer is working for salem of her own volition, then salem isn’t averse to working alongside silver-eyes; ergo, her problem with them must be with what most of them do, which is kill grimm.

salem is grimm. the grimm have been her only real companions for thousands of years. it is also fairly obvious at this point that grimm are not mindless soulless killing machines, because they keep behaving like emotional beings with a high degree of social organization and far more individuality than they’re given credit for. salem—

—cares about them. it tracks that she’d assassinate silver-eyed warriors who gained the kind of prominence maria did. i think it’s probably worth noting that the one absolute certainty it-is-what-it-looks-like data point in regard to salem killing silver-eyed warriors is… a legendary huntress who had nothing to do with ozpin or his conspiracy but went around calling herself the grimm reaper.

ignoring ozma’s imaginary shadow war whilst living in exile doesn’t necessarily mean salem wasn’t doing anything bad at all; just that whatever she got up to didn’t have anything to do with him.

that she targeted maria rather than anyone affiliated with oz in and of itself is an implication that she wasn’t paying much attention to him at the time; conversely, there hasn’t been so much as a hint that salem ever sent anyone to assassinate summer, ozpin’s token silver-eyed warrior, in the years before summer found her. and then hound guy is just a pile of question marks punctuated by an empty chair and me squinting at the lovecraft story very hard; if nothing else, the sixth empty seat at her table and the implied timeline of cinder being the impetus for that experiment gives me pause.

[adolfsmirrorball]

psa

hi guys. first of all i want to say i've already met one of the sweetest people here and im so happy i joined reichblr! i just want to clear some things up.

i have received some disgusting hate messages that i deleted but i wish i didn't because i wanna reply to them now. it's too late, but i just find it really disheartening that i came here with a very specific problem and you guys decide to use that against me. you can call me an attention seeker all you want because it's easy to judge when you don't know what it feels like. yeah i decided to publicly state im related to a nazi because i have NO one to talk about this to. ZERO people. the few people i have opened up to i don't talk to them anymore. and it just makes me so mad that i decided to make this my safe place and y'all come to comment things like im going to hell. it's so difficult to read those messages i wish y'all were more compassionate. please put yourself in my shoes and ask yourself what you'd do

also whoever keeps comparing me to alf hess pls stop. it's so disrespectful that im being compared to such a problematic person. even if he is someone who clearly needs professional help, my situation and his aren't the same. even if we all agreed that reincarnation is real, being a reincarnation of someone isn't the same as being genetically related to that person!! like y'all why would i be so delusional about something that can be proven with a dna test. bye. please leave me alone im here to make friends also if i keep finding white suprematists and actual neo nazis in my following list you'll be blocked thanks for reading that's all i have to say

[sillytigergrimlin]

OK SO, BILL CYPHER REINCARNATION OC! [Click for better quality]

After summer at Mystery shack

Before summer at Mystery Shack

His name is Milo Pines, triplet to Mabel and Dipper, and everyone calls him Kit !

So I made up this version of him in 7th grade, so it might be a bit cringe- but I read @bluefrostyy 's Sébastien Pines au and AHHHHHHH

I read that fic at least once a year ! I first read it before I was diagnosed with ADHD, but Seb as a kid made me cry in relating so many times with being perceived as stupid but not stupid just hyperactive and stuff , GREAT FIC SORRY I JUST RANTED, BACK TO RANTING ABOUT KIT-

Ok so I hope this is fine but Kit is an Au of Blue's Au, so he is a reincarnation of the second bill that sebastian defeated- and he was a bit more specific seeing what happened to Sébastien with the reincarnation... but not specific enough

Bill making the deal with the axolotl:

"Don't make me a human"

Axolotl: Proceeds to give him pointy ears and say because of genetic mutation and evolution he is technically not a human

"Make sure I'm still smart"

Axolotl: here little man, have a hyperfixation on inventing stuff

Personality wise, he is pretty shy when he first meets someone, and he usually uses sign language because he dosn’t like talking. He might whisper talk to people who don't know sign, but it makes him uncomfortable.

Sometimes, when he feels he can really trust someone, he will talk to them, and he enjoys when he is by himself singing and playing acoustic guitar! He can be pretty chaotic once he comes out of his shell , kind but misunderstands things. Offers creative solutions no one asked for... but sometimes work!

I like to keep it as Sébastien being the grunkle at the mystery shack. Kit has some general hatred and avoids Seb as much as possible throughout his life, because Seb is the one who defeated him in his past life as Bill. But when they are sent to live with him for the summer, he dosn’t really have a choice- so he ended up having to hang out with Seb.

Seb also wasn't particularly fond of Kit at first, but more in a wtf is going on way- he gives him the nickname "Toolkit" because he always has a toolkit on him, and Mabel shortened it to "Kit" and it kinda just stuck-

Kit ends up opening up in the end, and Seb ends up realizing ok, this kid is as much bill as I am so- let's stop hating him and also be less mean to myself [he gets to that point for other story reasons too, you should ready the original story by bluefrostyy PLEASE]

Before the summer Kit definitely cursed his past self for making him look so "weird", he was mocked for it so wore things to make him look pretty normal. His parents didn't really do much about him, he was like a middle child, just slowly hating himself more and more in the background as he invents stuff. [Why so dark 7th grade me?]

Seb helps Kit accept the weirdness as not a bad thing- and that being weird and liking bill like things dosn’t make him like bill! Kit helps Seb with the portal, and Seb makes Kot and awesome dress!

I'm explaining this so badly-

ANYWAYS ILL DEFINITELY BE DOING MORE KIT STUFF LATER