#he who is compassion personified

[themorguepoet]

Transliteration: Karpuragauram Karunāvatarām Sansarsāram Bhujgendrahāram। Sadāvsantam Hrudyārvinde Bhavam Bhavāni Sahitam Namāmi।।

Translation: Lord Shiv, who dwells in my heart along with Mata Bhavāni, one who is white as camphor, one who is the manifestation of compassion, one who is the essence of the universe, and who wears the king of the snakes Vāsuki as his necklace, I bow down to you.

[toffeecoco1]

@perpetualgrey's comment on this post

Ok my first instinct was to laugh, but then I realised you might be onto something???

Shen Yuan is LITERALLY an impostor, who’s more far more kind and beloved by Binghe than the original. The Guanyin pendant is a counterfeit, but it carries the love of Binghe’s mother and is far more precious than any real jade could ever be.

The heartbreak Binghe’s mother felt after realising that the Guanyin pendant was fake and she’d been tricked was part of what lead to the gradual decline of her health.¹ In wanting to do something kind for Binghe, she felt that she’d failed, and this led to her demise. What is Shen Qingqiu’s entire story, but trying to be kind to Binghe, feeling inadequate at this, and dying? (More than once!!)

Guanyin is a Bodhisattva associated with mercy, kindness, compassion and unconditional love. She is a patron of mothers, and is called upon in times of fear, uncertainty, and despair. The Bodhisattva she originated from is seen as a saviour, through whose grace even those with the most negative karma can achieve salvation. Even when she is not worshipped as a goddess, she is revered as the principle of love, compassion and mercy.² From wikipedia, “The act, thought and feeling of compassion and love is viewed as Guanyin. A merciful, compassionate, loving individual is said to be Guanyin.”²

The original Luo Binghe appears never to have lost his pendant. Shen Qingqiu tells us: “It was the only bit of warmth in Luo Binghe’s dark world, always by his side, and even in the future when he was at his darkest, it could summon up his last dregs of humanity.”¹ He also states that “it was Luo Binghe’s biggest berserk button.”¹

Our Luo Binghe does not cling to the pendant when he’s at his darkest: he clings to the love he has for his shizun and to memories of his kindness, and later, to the lifeless body of Shen Qingqiu himself. His biggest berserk button isn’t when people insult the pendant or his mother, or try to take it away; it’s Shen Qingqiu: when people insult him or try to take him away.

From the start, Shen Qingqiu expresses truly unconditional love for Binghe. He spends three years showing endless compassion and kindness, actions which feel insignificant to him but are more than enough to completely change Binghe’s life. He holds no blame or resentment for the things he fears Binghe will do to him; though he doesn’t want to be tortured, he forgives Binghe for it nonetheless, before it has even happened. He sacrifices himself to save Binghe as his mind is eaten away at by Xin Mo, when he believes that Binghe just slaughtered a hundred Huan Hua Disciples, when Binghe’s reckless use of the sword is putting countless more lives at risk.³

Shen Qingqiu is a counterfeit that is more precious than the original could ever be. For Binghe, he personifies kindness, compassion and unconditional love. His regrets over his treatment of Binghe lead to his temporary demise. Binghe clings to him in his darkest moments, and he is that which Binghe protects most fiercely.

I always found the pendant’s role in the story to be almost lacking: it’s treated as such an important item to Binghe, yet in the end its return is almost anticlimactic. But perhaps this is because the role the pendant played in Bing-ge’s story has been overtaken by Shen Qingqiu. When he returns the pendant, Binghe is relieved and appreciative: but his joy seems to stem more from the fact that Shen Qingqiu held onto it and cherished him than from the pendant itself. The pendant doesn’t matter all that much to him anymore, at least not compared to how important it seems to have been in PIDW. Binghe doesn't need an object to symbolize love and kindness; he has a person to love, who loves him back.

In conclusion: Shizun was in fact the fake jade Guanyin pendant all along!

sources cited below :)

1. Seven Seas Volume 1, Chapter 1: Scum. Pages 40-41.

2. “Guanyin,” Wikipedia. There’s a lot more to her than what I mentioned here, she’s quite interesting.

3. Seven Seas Volume 2, Chapter 8: Death. Pages 154-156.

[monzamash]

tears and scraped knees — daniel ricciardo

fatherhood is about learning the art of letting go. dad!daniel ricciardo x you | 2k warnings – cute shit, mentions of injuries and swearing. masterlist

She was the light of his life the moment she entered it, screaming the house down and crying her lungs out. Pure love personified. She was the apple of his eye, the most precious gift he had ever been given and simultaneously the reason for the grey hair speckling his dark curls; the ones identical to hers. Like him, she was a firecracker, the joker, and the life of the party everywhere she went; smile bright, eyes warm. A rich chestnut brown, flecked with yellow, charming and stunning just like his.

To Daniel, she was your little twin. Your beauty was reflected in her in different ways – in her long locks and dark sense of humour, her tenacity and moral compass. She was strong like you, stoic in her beliefs and confident in her skin.

Smart, magnetic, a bit book-ish like you.

Sporty, energetic and kind like him.

Looking at your daughter was a daily reminder that he was half him and half you – a beautiful symbol of your love, your miracle.

“How ya doin’ back there kiddo?”

“Fine,” She mumbled under her breath, eyes focused on the perfect distraction from the morning ahead – her phone. 

You and Daniel shared a knowing glance; traffic building at the lights as you waited for the signal. There was no doubt in your mind that your daughter was saving herself from a stirring speech by bottling up her feelings. Her father was basically a glorified inspirational speaker in his retirement and she had been on the receiving end of too many over the years – each one cheesier than the last, she would confess to you whenever he was out of ear shot.

“Does Dad realise that I’m not one of his rookie drivers? Like, I know what I need to do to win.”

Strong in her convictions, just like him. A carbon copy.

“Remember to keep your elbows out today, especially around that Maddy girl. I know her dad and I reckon she’s dirty like him so watch her at the sta – ouch.”

Your fingernails digging into his forearm cut off Daniel’s spiel, his eyebrows furrowed and silently asking, ‘what the fuck was that for’.

“Just have fun out there, sweetheart,” You interrupted, saving your daughter from her father’s pep-talk, “Keep your elbows tucked in, shoulders with the part like you were taught.”

Daniel sighed and turned his attention back to the busy streets of Fremantle, weaving his way through the traffic like he was back in Monaco, living out the glory days. He was the first to admit that he was living vicariously through her and passionate about what the world had in store for his not-so-little girl. He saw so much of himself in her now, sixteen and on the cusp of what could be.

But you saw things differently to him. Her path wasn’t paved so clearly in your eyes and you made sure that she remained open to whatever life had to bring. She had it all in front of her; possibilities endless with opportunity and success but that didn’t have to be racing. Your dreams for her weren’t as rigid as Daniel’s; his plan to move the family back to the UK had been vetoed by you when your daughter came to you in tears, begging to stay in school and graduate with her friends.

“But babe, those friends don’t last. It’s all just in the moment when this could be her chance at getting her foot in the door,” He argued until he was red in the face.

“Says the guy who just had Blake and his wife around last week for dinner? Come on, Dan – it’s only a year away.”

“Realistically we should’ve moved when she showed an interest in bikes…” He grumbled, frustration simmering behind his closed eyes.

“What? When she was four? Baby, she’s only sixteen but still, she has her dreams set on riding and when the time is right, we will do everything we can to help her make that a reality…”

Your voice was soft; calming as you rounded the dining table and nestled into the open arms of your husband, “Just let her take the lead.”

Daniel dropped his head onto the top of yours and sighed, “You’re right.”

“I almost always am.”

That wasn’t the last conversation you and your husband had about Joey’s future, her grandfather and namesake chiming in with what he thought was the best thing for her budding career. She was the pride and joy of the whole family; everyone saw her talent from a young age but that kind of pressure had to be managed and that had become your life’s work. Her youth had been so hyper focussed on honing her craft that sometimes you felt like she had lost her childhood to the trials and tribulations of racing.

So you put your foot down where you could; namely saving your daughter from having to sit through another car ride hearing all about her dad’s accomplishments and mistakes – hoping she would learn from him but you both knew better than that. She was so young and so ready to make her own mistakes to learn from, like it should be.

She was stronger than both you ever were – a perfect amalgamation of your love.

One of hardest part about race day for Daniel was taking a step back. Of course everyone knew who Joey’s dad was and of course she copped shit for it. Your dad’s a flog and the only reason you’re here is because of him, had been a couple of the unsavoury post-race reports your daughter eventually confessed to you – teary eyed while she begged for you not to tell Daniel but you did because if anyone knew the power of harnessing negative energy, it was your husband.

But the hardest part of all for Daniel was controlling his emotions. He had Italian blood coursing through his veins after all, passionate and fiercely protective of both his girls. Once Joey came along, you knew the papa bear within that had been lying dormant would arise and alas, you were right. All of those crazy nights in bars all around the world, fighting off sleazy men had prepared him to be a girl-dad.

That side to him was glorious to you, endlessly sexy and usually rendered you useless when he decided to bust out the dad moves but to his teenage daughter, he was a total embarrassment.

“Racing under number 33 is Joey James Ricciardo.”

“Give ‘em hell, JJ!”

Daniel’s loud woo echoed through the small crowd, heads turning in your direction including your daughters and you could sense her scowl under the helmet – mortified.

“Daniel,” You scolded, smacking your husband gently, “She’ll kill us both.”

“I know I know,” He grimaced, “Fuck, I’m sorry – I can’t help it... That’s our baby girl out there.”

The image of your daughter, barely two years old, always flashed in your memory when he said things like that. It reminded you of the weeks spent teaching her how to walk. She was so small but so tenacious and you could see that same proud glimmer in Daniel’s eyes now as he did watching her take her first steps. It was mixed with the same wash of fear he had when he let go of her bike seat down that old gravelled road for the first time, praying to god she didn’t hurt herself and end up with tears and scraped knees.

And sure, that happened. Many Band-Aids and tubes of antiseptic were applied to her bloodied elbows and knees but she was a kid after all, feeling every bump in the road until she found her strengths and soared above the rest. She was as quick as a whip and even faster on track – destined to be her own hero but always inspired by her first.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Daniel mumbled as the two of you waited for the race to begin, his foot tapping on the dead grass and nails already chewed down to the skin.

His white cap was still pulled down, disguised as a promise to his daughter who wanted him to just blend in. Wishful thinking. But there was a time that she didn’t want him to come to her meets, insisting that her life would be so much easier if her dad wasn’t ‘the Daniel Ricciardo’ but you couldn’t buckle on that one.

“Your dad is a strong man but that would kill him, J.”

“But he yells out and brags to all the parents about me and the other kids bully me for it… He doesn’t understand how hard it is being a Ricciardo.”

“Hey,” Daniel’s soft voice startled you both, heads flying towards your daughter’s bedroom door, “If that’s what you want, honey I can stay home.”

She sighed heavily and clutched the lilac pillow on her lap, “I want you there, Dad but people are so mean to me and I just want to be normal for once.”

The mattress dipped as Daniel sat down beside you and reached out for his daughters hands, “You can be anyone you want to be, darlin’ – just say the word and we’ll make it happen. We can be normal… or try to be normal.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at your husband and give him a teasing nudge, “Try being the operative word.”

Daniel smiled and shrugged, “I’ll even wear a disguise. How about that?”

And here you were, hidden behind a couple of gum trees watching your daughter flying through the air and making her fathers hair greyer with every passing second. She was a force to be reckoned with and karmic retribution for all the years you spent white knuckling in garages across the globe.

“Now you know how I felt back when you were racing. Karma is a bitch, my love.”

“Maybe encouraging her to do this was a bad idea after all…” Daniel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose with his shaky fingers as you slid an arm around his waist and pulled him close.

“This is sleepover camp all over again. You have to learn how to somehow let her go and spread her wings. That’s all she ever says to me, you know? I wanna be like dad – not afraid, free.”

“I didn’t even realise she felt like that…”

You softly smiled at your husband and pressed a soft kiss to his stubbled cheek, “Don’t tell her I told you.”

my hope for this little story is to build a cute world around it. i have a really nice outline for another part of this story so let me know if that's something you would like. and thank you to @vetteltea for her supportive nudge to post this x

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Crosshair's Character in TBB: A Study

“Loyalty means everything to the clones,”- Anakin Skywalker

I wanted to start my study with this quote because it basically personifies who Crosshair is as a person. Over the course of three seasons (plus CW), there is no doubt that Crosshair is arguably the most well-written and developed member of the Bad Batch. His journey and inner conflict isn’t neatly wrapped up in a little box and tied with a cute bow in only one season. No, his journey spans the entire show. It is very compelling, filled with a deep inner conflict, broken relationships, and the struggle to find one’s self again. In this study, I wanted to look at the major themes of his character and how his relationship to them has changed. 

Loyalty

Crosshair’s strongest and best quality is loyalty. It is everything to him and it’s why he reacts so strongly when the Batch leaves him in “Aftermath.” However, misplaced loyalty is dangerous, especially when it’s blinding. The core struggle of his character, specifically in season 1 and 2, is discovering who is worth his loyalty. Crosshair isn’t the type of person to just save his own skin when things get bad; S3 disputes that multiple times. As rude and off-putting as he can be, Crosshair cares deeply for others. Unfortunately, it’s the choices he makes and where he invests his loyalty that conflict arises. 

The Worth of Loyalty

A part of understanding Crosshair is understanding how far he will go for those he’s loyal to. 

“Do you know why they put me in charge? It’s because I’m willing to do what needs to be done.”

This line is stone-cold, but remove the context and apply it to Crosshair in general. It speaks volumes. Crosshair isn’t driven by some moral compass like Echo or Omega are. He’s not loyal to some grand cause. He’s loyal to people who’ve earned his respect. He’s loyal to those who value his skills as a sniper. Crosshair will not hesitate to go to extreme lengths for others. He killed Tawi Ames because he is a soldier of the Empire. He dragged a half-dead Mayday back to base because Mayday saved his life and showed him compassion. He went back to Tantiss for Omega because she saved him and he loves her. Crosshair’s journey is about him discovering who is worth that kind of loyalty. Who is worth dragging someone through sheer hell even though the optimal solution would be to just leave them? As Crosshair learns, it’s not the Empire.

The question remains, who is worth his loyalty? The answer is simple: Omega, his brothers, and other kind people such as Mayday and Cody. But Crosshair’s loyalty is severely misguided at first. There are a multitude of reasons as to why. One of the most obvious reasons is due to his fractured relationship with his brothers. By the time the entire Batch reunites in “Return to Kamino,” Crosshair can’t help but voice his pain and anger.

“They don’t leave their own behind… most of the time.” “You weren’t loyal to me.”

Due to the chip, Crosshair doesn’t understand why they left him. Did years of loyalty from Crosshair mean nothing to them? Did their relationship as brothers mean nothing? At that point in the story, he hasn’t realized how damaging the Empire is to him. So, he turns his anger to the group of people who meant more to him than anything else in the entire galaxy. And his anger isn’t completely unjustified. He was deeply hurt and he didn’t know why. Unfortunately, his beliefs about the Empire and struggle with identity push the Batch away. But as Crosshair’s feelings were continually challenged by others and his environment, he started realizing just how deep of a hole he’d gotten himself into. Crosshair’s brand of loyalty is something the chip absolutely would take advantage of. It’s fixating and fierce, hard to break. Only something severe such as removal or damage can break it. 

In S3, we get an exchange between Rampart and Crosshair. Rampart comments that Crosshair used to believe good soldiers followed orders. Crosshair responds that it depends on who’s giving them. This statement is absolutely true. Rampart doubts that Crosshair has changed, but it is Rampart who hasn’t changed. Both were betrayed by the Empire, but only one recognized where he went wrong. Crosshair now understands that his deep and fierce loyalty belongs to those who won’t hurt him or others he cares about. Loyalty is reciprocal and not to be taken for granted. This is a sentiment he shares with Howzer.

“Loyalty meant something to me. But with the Empire it didn’t go both ways.”

But Rampart can’t understand that because he’s only loyal to himself. And when you’re only loyal to yourself, you don’t care who around you falls. 

The Empire: An Environment of Shame

Why doesn’t Crosshair see just how bad the Empire is? That’s an argument I see often, but I think it’s important to understand just how manipulative and demonizing the Empire really is. Crosshair deeply internalizes his identity as a soldier. His value comes from his skills and if he can’t do his job properly, he will be discarded. The Empire is an echo chamber of that insecurity. 

“There are other ways of producing loyal soldiers”- Rampart

Rampart, Tarkin, Nolan… the faces of many imperials who remind Crosshair of what happens if his loyalty falters. He will be discarded. All around him, Crosshair hears the imperials speak about replacing the clones. They speak about the value of loyalty. It pushes him to keep proving his loyalty to the Empire. Crosshair is a sensitive soul despite appearances and he internalizes what others say around him. 

“Not the ones that matter.”- Cross to Hunter about the Empire phasing out clones

If Crosshair can continue fulfilling his purpose, then he will be spared, or at least that’s what he tells himself. We see this in real life too. Social media can influence others by feeding into their egos, only to rip them apart should they step out of line. It’s the same scenario with Crosshair. Rampart mocks Cody’s absence and talks about clone loyalty not being what it was advertised. Crosshair tenses up at his words, clearly bothered, until Rampart asks if he has a problem and then dismisses the issue without a care. The Empire makes Crosshair feel so alone. But he’s a soldier, right? This is where he belongs, right?

Compare that environment to the one put forth by Omega and Mayday. Omega is warm and compassionate. She cares deeply for others, even when that person probably doesn’t deserve it. As Crosshair struggles, Omega remains nothing but encouraging. She believed in him from the very beginning. 

“You’re still more capable than most.”- Omega

Omega’s constant display of loyalty and affection towards him eventually wins Crosshair over. He finds himself in an environment where his fierce devotion is not only reciprocated but goes above and beyond. Mayday shows compassion to Crosshair even though he barely knows him. He also shares Crosshair’s unspoken frustration. The Empire didn’t care about the clones despite them being good soldiers who followed orders. When danger strikes, Mayday doesn’t hesitate to protect Crosshair. Once again, it’s this reciprocated loyalty that shows Crosshair the truth behind the curtain. The Empire is all take and no give. Omega and Mayday display the opposite; they give Crosshair their all and don’t expect him to grovel on his knees for their praise or friendship.

Identity

But loyalty is only one major aspect of his character. Crosshair’s willingness to stay with the Empire also stems from his struggle with his identity. Clones are taught to be loyal and the behavioral modification chip only reinforces that notion. For Crosshair, it’s not so easy to just throw away something he grew up his entire life hearing. Thus, he finds himself in conflict between his loyalty to his brothers, loyalty as a clone, and identity as a loyal soldier. It’s so heartbreaking to see him when the chip partially activates. The chip makes him so fixated on Order 66 and yet, he can’t help but still stay by his brothers’ side. It is only when the chip is enhanced that he attacks his brothers. 

The Soldier and the Clone

The moment they are born, the clones are raised to be soldiers. They have no say in their fates, only that they have one purpose in life. Crosshair is no ordinary clone though; he’s labeled as defective for looking and sounding different. However, he has exceptionally sharp vision. One of the first things established about the Bad Batch is that they use unorthodox methods and they’re very showy. They also have a 100% success rate. As a result, Crosshair views himself and his squad as “superior.” As a soldier in the Empire, he expects to get the same recognition. The Empire is fueled by individuals who love feeling powerful. For Crosshair, to get special treatment because he’s a “superior” clone definitely would feed his ego. Unfortunately, the Empire also will pull the plug on anyone at any time. On Kamino, being defective is a death sentence. But Crosshair’s enhancement makes him useful; it’s why he was kept around. Interestingly, the more isolated Crosshair became in his time with the Empire, the more he began to seek companionship with the regs. S2 sees Crosshair shed his views that he’s a “superior” clone. He slowly begins to accept the fact that he and the other clones aren’t actually that different. We see this change in many ways: he tries to sit with the regs, he enjoys going on a mission with Cody, and he quickly gets attached to Mayday. 

Crosshair’s journey of accepting himself as a clone and finding companionship with others outside his squad humbles him and makes him an overall kinder person. It is integral in how he becomes disillusioned with the Empire. The Empire makes him feel so alone. Look at his room in “The Solitary Clone;” it’s no better than his cell on Tantiss. “Nat-borns” don’t understand what it is like to be a clone and his squad isn’t there anymore, so Crosshair turns to “regs.” He starts realizing that their experiences under the Empire aren’t much different from his. It’s Mayday and the mission on Barton IV that really pushes him over the edge. Mayday, a reg, understands him more than he’d like to admit. He’s lonely and feels like his efforts aren’t enough. 

Crosshair has let the Empire mistreat and abuse him for months, but eventually he snaps. He can’t do this anymore. He’s a person. Mayday is a person. Has his and Maydy’s loyalty meant nothing? Has the loyalty of the clones in general meant nothing? 

A clone’s identity is intrinsically tied to being a soldier. Why did Crosshair stay with the Empire? A simple answer is it gave him a purpose. Crosshair deeply internalizes his role as both a sniper and a soldier. He can’t see himself in another role as it is all he has known. What will happen when that’s taken away from him? Crosshair struggles with that exact dilemma. As I said early, being defective and unable to fulfill being a soldier means decommissioning and being discarded. I’ll bet this is why Crosshair struggles breaking away from his soldier mindset. He was taught to be loyal and there is no place for him if he can’t fulfill his purpose. Let’s take a look at his role as a sniper. Crosshair’s role is to wait on the outskirts and observe for danger. He’s supposed to keep his team safe from afar and spot trouble before it strikes. He’s a protector. That role gets shaken when his tremor starts. What happens to Crosshair if he can’t shoot? What happens to his brothers? 

S3 introduces the arc of Crosshair learning to accept help from others and becoming more than a soldier. A sniper is supposed to be distant, a loner, and always on the lookout. Once that role is challenged, suddenly, Crosshair realizes he can’t do this alone. He initially tries via brushing it off or shaking his hand. But it’s not enough. Both Hunter and Omega grow concerned. Omega takes the initiative and gently encourages Crosshair to try meditation with her. Even if it doesn’t work, the fact that he tries already speaks volumes. Throughout the season, Crosshair tries multiple times to do things alone. However, Hunter declines that proposal and says they should work together. The most glaring example is the climax of "The Cavalry Has Arrived." Crosshair is missing his dominant hand, weakened from his injury, and on top of that, it’s pouring rain and Hemlock has handcuffed himself to Omega. It is only through the help of his siblings that Crosshair makes the shot. He did it with the support of his family. 

In relying on his family, Crosshair becomes more than a sniper. He becomes more than a soldier. Even if he had his hand, Crosshair still would’ve had to overcome the huge barrier of making a steady shot. Either way, Crosshair overcomes by accepting the love and help from his family. Looking back, I’m really glad that this was a part of his arc. Crosshair has spent so much of the show alone, having to rely on himself and his skill to survive. But as time passes, he learns that it’s ok to have help. As people, we’re not meant to carry all our burdens alone. Crosshair learns he doesn’t have to remain distant all the time to protect others; sometimes, our greatest strength comes from each other.

The Beauty of Self-Worth

“Omega, don’t risk anything for me. I belong in here.” (This line is one of the most heartbreaking lines in the entire show). “So, I’m doing this alone. It’s what I deserve.”

A smaller, but just as important arc, is Crosshair’s journey of forgiveness. By “Tipping Point,” Crosshair has largely tackled his inner conflict. He knows who deserves his loyalty and who doesn’t. He realizes that he isn’t so different from the other clones. However, the guilt from his actions still lingers. Although he gets his message out, everything else fails. Tech dies, Omega is captured, and he doesn’t know what happened to the others. Crosshair suffers for a long 5 months due to Hemlock’s conditioning. His days are filled with the same mundane (and painful) routine and there is no sign of hope… that is, except for Omega. No matter what happened in the past, Omega undying love for him never yields. 

“None of us belong in here.”- Omega 

Omega’s words are reassuring and they hit Crosshair in a way he doesn’t expect. How can he, who has done these terrible things and has been forgotten by the world, be worth kindness? For all the times he said/did something cruel to Omega, she still came back for him. It’s Omega’s compassion that helps push Crosshair to finding his own self-worth. She loves him when nothing seems to be working for him. She encourages him to talk to his brothers. Crosshair wants to be accepted and belong again with his brothers. But up until that point in the narrative, everything around him seems to tell him the opposite. 

As much as I would’ve liked more from Hunter, I’m still glad he and Crosshair are able to have a conversation. In “The Return,” Crosshair admits how wrong he was. To come to terms with the darker parts of one’s self is important in forgiveness and the courage to do so is immense. There are things in life we as people can all do better. It’s what makes us human. The last time Crosshair interacted with his brother, it devolved into anger and pain-fueled argument. Crosshair so desperately wanted his brothers back, but it had to be on his terms. As the brothers fight again, Hunter antagonizes him into getting answers. A quick “blink and you’ll miss it” moment is that Cross’ hand trembles when Hunter brings up betrayal. Crosshair initially clamps up before biting back, blaming Hunter for Omega’s capture. But as both brothers learn to realize, both of them need to do better. The past hurts immensely because of that broken bond. Now, they have the opportunity to mend it. 

“I have regrets too, Crosshair. All we can do is keep trying to be better and who knows? There just might be hope for us yet.”- Hunter

Like Omega, Hunter’s words offer reassurance and comfort. Can Crosshair, a person who hurt his family, be worth that forgiveness? Hunter’s words all but confirm that Crosshair is forgiven in his eyes. Crosshair’s struggle to find forgiveness and worth in himself is eased by the people who he cares for the most. Even something simple as a hug from Wrecker catches him off guard, but it’s something that tells him “you’re loved and wanted.” As the vulture leaves the outpost, Crosshair slowly learns to forgive himself for what happened. 

It all culminates in the hug he gets from Omega in “The Cavalry Has Arrived.” Crosshair believed he deserved to die in order to atone. After everything he’s done and been through, does he still deserve a happy ending when it’s all over? Omega’s hug says yes. Tantiss is the heart of his pain and agony. In another world, Crosshair would never have set foot there if he chose differently. Perhaps Omega wouldn’t have suffered there. Perhaps Tech would still be alive… Without any hesitation, Omega wraps her arms around Crosshair and he is shocked. She reaches over to pull Hunter in and Hunter wraps his other arm around Crosshair, holding him close. And without any words, Crosshair leans in and closes his eyes. As the trio begin to head back to the shuttle, it’s Crosshair who reaches out and places his stump on Omega’s shoulder. In doing something as simple as leaning into the embrace, Crosshair accepts the love he is given. He lets himself be loved and understands that he is worthy of that love. 

This isn’t the end of Crosshair’s journey, of course. Crosshair has a very long and difficult road ahead of him. No, his PTSD wasn��t stored in his hand. Cutting off his hand isn’t a magical “cure” for it. Crosshair still has to work through a lot and he will. The big difference is that he knows he doesn’t have to work through it alone. With the help of his family, Crosshair can continue that journey of healing he began in “Bad Territory.” He’s so loved because he’s Crosshair, a brother, a protector, with fierce loyalty that could never be truly broken. 

Anyways, we’ve reached the end of my character study. Thank you all for reading. Crosshair is a very complex character and one who faces many trials. But no matter how many times he falls, he always finds a way to pick himself back up. At the end, he makes it. Crosshair has learned a lot, but I’m grateful that TBB team chose a long and complex route for him. Because guess what? Healing and growing as a person isn’t a “one size fits all” scenario. It’s a messy and difficult process. When all is said and done, Crosshair has one of the best realized redemption arcs in all of Star Wars and I couldn’t be more thrilled with how it played out.

[vindicated-truth]

What defines Joowon to me, more than anything, is his rigidity and absolutism when it comes to his morals.

It's his own brand of justice that—for better or for worse—he's unwilling to compromise for anything.

Not even for someone he has finally come to genuinely care for.

Not even for Dongsik.

What strikes me the most in this pivotal scene when Dongsik finally asks Joowon to arrest him is Joowon's immediate answer:

"I can't do that. I have no right to do that."

And the only way Dongsik finally, gently convinced Joowon to go through with it is by saying:

"If you don't arrest me, I won't ever turn myself in. Please arrest me now.

What makes this exchange pivotal is the nuance of Joowon's reason: "I can't do that. I have no right to do that."

It's not that he doesn't think that arresting Dongsik is wrong. He absolutely still believes that it's right, because it's only when Dongsik—who knows his Joowon well enough by now—gently threatens that he won't ever turn himself in if Joowon doesn't arrest him then that Joowon finally, finally concedes.

What breaks Joowon's heart here is not that Dongsik finally turns himself in, not that Dongsik will finally be arrested and very likely will be indicted.

Joowon knows this, intellectually, and knows this is right—if only because in the balance scale of his moral compass, it gives justice to Kang Minjeong's death too. Because he also knows, intellectually, that if Dongsik didn't do what he did with her fingers, they all could've had that small window of a chance to save her while she was still buried alive.

This, Dongsik facing that justice for Kang Minjeong's death, Joowon firmly believes to still be right. This isn't what's making him reel from the wrongness of what Dongsik is asking of him.

Because what is breaking Joowon's heart is that Dongsik is asking him to do it: that the son of the murderer will be the one to arrest the victim's brother.

It knocks him off-kilter from what he perceives justice to be, just because he holds everyone so rigidly against this moral compass—including himself.

For someone who never, in his whole life, had someone believe in him—had someone believe him—Joowon cannot reconcile the fact that Dongsik trusts him.

That Dongsik chooses him, exceptionally and exclusively, the only one he trusts, for this.

In this pivotal moment, it's Dongsik who makes Joowon reevaluate everything he has ever known, everything he has ever believed, not only about justice, but about what it means to be completely, wholeheartedly trusted by someone else.

Because what Joowon absolutely cannot fathom is: it's precisely because of the rigidity and absolutism of his moral compass that Dongsik trusts him, and only him, exceptionally and exclusively, with this.

Because for someone who's been a victim of the justice system for 21 years, used and abused over and over again by the people in power within the very system that was supposed to protect the innocent like him, and bring justice to victims like him—

It is only now, in meeting Han Joowon, that Dongsik finally meets the one person who finally, truly personifies the kind of justice he believes in.

The justice Dongsik can finally, finally believe in.

The only one who will see justice through.

No matter what.

[muzsmoux]

Reviewing tgcf characters because I have thoughts

I finished S2 recently and I need somewhere to put my not exactly hot but like warm (?) takes because it's taking up too much storage space in my brain.

🤍 Xie Lian 🤍

It's a good thing I'm not into guys because if I was I would be on my knees for this man in every sense of that expression and his pet menace to society would mince me up like garlic.

So I'll try to be brief about my overflowing feelings about him. Xie Lian is the best main character I have come across in a WHILE. He's the embodiment of compassion and kindness. And also a cold blooded murderer. A babygirl. A father figure. A terrifying martial god. A silly little guy. A pathological liar. The most genuine man you'll ever meet. He's everything, and Hua Cheng is 100% valid in his obsession. I'm right there with him.

Rating: 10/10

❤️ Hua Cheng ❤️

Idk if we ever figured out who wrote My Immortal but I'm pretty sure we have our culprit.

"Hi my name is Hua Cheng Crimson Rain Sought Flower Red-Robed Ghost King and this is my evil weapon of death E-ming. I've killed soooo many gods with it!! My dark power is I can summon storms of BLOOD and SUFFERING. I have my own scary city of DEMONS and they all love me and think I'm HOT but I only want my BOYFRIEND who's the only REAL GOD so STOP FLAMING HIM YOU POSERS-"

Needless to say I love him. Being the 8 time winner of the Loverboy of the Century Awards with unbeatable records in the yearning olympics is truly a remarkable feat.

Rating: 9/10

(Bonus: E-ming. Cute little guy. Likes his stepdad more than his real dad. Not afraid to show it's feelings even if it makes it look like a muppet, 10/10)

🧡 Feng Xin & Mu Qing 🧡

Tweedle dee and tweedle dum gets a shared rating because they would hate to be grouped together like that and that's funny to me. Their dynamic is great, they're good characters, I wasn't sure which one was which until midway through the second season. But then also I have a pair of 7yo twin cousins who I still can't tell apart despite them not looking even a slight bit similar so that might just be a character flaw on my end. Oops.

Rating: 7/10

🩵Shi Qingxuan🩵

I'm doubling the rating because she is best boy and best girl at the same time. I love that I can use any and all pronouns for him because he's literally a pride parade personified and therefore all of them are correct. You don't get that type of chaotic fun just anywhere.

He is truly living my dream, presenting as whatever gender they want depending on what's more convenient and/or funnier in the moment. Super useful, for things like gathering intel and terrorizing Feng Xin by being a woman.

And I personally think we should crown her the new emperor. She'd look significantly better on that throne, with her Barbie-like radiance and flourishing Kenergy.

Rating: 20/10

🖤 Ming Yi 🖤

Listen, I hate to say it because I like a sunshine x grump moment as much as the next gay but he's just... not giving what he thinks he's giving. Everyone is whispering ominously about him having some dark devastating secret but MY point is no matter how big his boobs are in his female form, Shi Qingxuan could do better. I'm sorry. She really could.

Rating: 4/10

💙 Lang Qianqiu 💙

Just an honest man with good intentions and a sickass fucking sword. He did NOT hesitate to attack the infamous Crimson Rain Sought Flower on SIGHT and I respect a quick decisionmaker, even if it shows some himbo tendencies. He also has the same distinct energy as Fred from Scooby Doo.

Rating: 6/10

💚 Qi Rong 💚

He's got some odd dietary and moral choices going on. Definitely. But he's just such a fun villain!!! Being Xie Lian's nr 1 source of migraines SHOULD make me like him less but I'm sorry, every time he was on screen I was LIVING. He would do numbers on reality TV. Someone put this guy on Kitchen Nightmares, I need to see him 1v1 Gordon Ramsay.

Rating: 7/10

🌚 Jun Wu 🌚

He has his emperor status & DILF card going for him but something about this man just ain't right. If he came to a party I was attending I would cover my drink is all I'm saying.

Rating: 2/10

🔥Pei Ming🔥

I don't know much about him besides he had that one shady empolyee or whatever (could not hear the plot over the deafening sound of Hua Cheng's yearning) but I'm partial to a good manwhore character. The thought of people praying to him like "Hugh Mungus, who art in heaven-" really tickles me.

I know he's probably straight but I headcanon him as at the very least bi-curious because you can't be that hot with that much game and not use it for evil. (That evil being causing large scale gay awakenings among his soldiers.)

Rating: 7/10

❓Pei Xiu❓

Unreliable, unimportant, unattractive, unemployed.

I remember not a singular thing about him besides fucking up Xie Lian's daughter's life and also being on my last nerve from the jump. If you're going to be evil at like least be memorable about it, you know? You can't be a bad person and a bad character at the same time. Pick a struggle.

Rating: 1/10

📚 Ling Wen 📚

I heard she committed some war crimes but honestly if I had to do an entire realm's tax returns by myself AND teach Pei Ming how to read (I refuse to believe that man is literate, just look at him) I would want to rage on occasion too. I hope she has a hot wife waiting for her at home to give her massages after carrying the whole system on her back all day. It's what she deserves.

Rating: 8/10

Thank you for reading!! Opinions might change once I read the books but as of now this is it. Remembering everyone's names has been a journey and a half so this post is sponsored by @kirstenly 's character cheat sheet go look at it! and everything else too!!!

[lydiamaya]

Football inspired major arcana tarot cards ^—^

I had a lot of fun making these and tried my best to fit them with what the cards actually represented.

Explanation on who's what card if you are interested in knowing —

0 – The Fool –> This card represents on the upright- innocence, spontaneity, a free spirit. On reserved it represents‐ holding back, recklessness and risk-taking. All of which I think perfectly describes Jack.

I – The Magician –> On the upright represents- manifestation, resourcefulness, power, inspired action. On reversed- untapped talents. All of these remind me of Hakim and also his nickname is perfect fit for this 😉.

II - The High Priestess –> Basically a well knowledged motherly character who often works in silence. Who other that Luka.

III – The Empress –> A blonde beauty who is holding everything together.

IV – The Emperor –> Authority, establishment, structure, a father figure, dominance. He is Pedri and gavi's dad, enough sqid.

V – The Hierophant –> Spiritual wisdom, religious, freedom, someone who comforts. See Olivier comforting Kylian, and you'll see.

VI – The Lovers –> Love, harmony, relationship, Soulmate.

VII – The Chariot –> Control, willpower, action, success, determination, self-discipline. The soul of the Manchester City team.

VIII – Strength –> Strength, courage, influence, compassion, raw emotion, self-doubt. Strength of the Manchester United team.

IX – The Hermit –> Soul-searching, inner guidance, being alone, isolation. The guiding light of Arsenal.

X – Wheel of Fortune –> Good luck, Karma, destiny, a turning point, breaking cycles.

XI – Justice –> I don't know, Eriksen just fit the vibe.

XII – The Hanged Man –> Letting go, new perspective. Joao to Chelsea saga.

XIII – Death –> Ending, change, transformation, transition, personal transformation. Jude being Dortmund's captain and the transformation of power from older generation to the newer one.

XIV – Temperance –> Balance, patience, purpose, self-healing. These two are perfect balance of old and new in Argentina.

XV – The Devil –> Shadow self, restriction, attachments. He is holding himself a bit in my opinion.

XVI – The Tower –> Sudden change, chaos, revelations, awakening, personal transformation. The departure of Messi and the entire future of Barça being pushed into their hands in a way.

XVII - The Star –> Hope, faith, renewal, purpose, self-trust. He is the hope and future of Dortmund and Germany.

XVIII – The Moon –> I don't Mason just felt right.

XIX – The Sun –> Positivity, fun,warmth, success, inner child, overly optimistic, vitality. This card IS Haaland.

XX – Judgment –> The bringer of Judgment Day against anyone they played.

XIX – The World –> Completion, accomplishment, personal closure, delays. This card is Messi personified.

[daemon-in-my-head]

Gortash symbolises humanity. Bear with me.

He is a researcher, a scientist, an inventor. He is progress personified. He constructed the Steelwatch from nothing, and he discarded all ethics to do so. And while vile, that is something that has been done a lot in the past. Humans have ever since crossed the line in the name of research and progress. They have done unspeakable things, all in the name of 'advancement' and knowledge. Especially those who had certain degrees of power or in not exceptionally peaceful times, ethics are the first thing that is discarded to conduct research properly. And that is precisely what Gortash does. He ranked his desire for progress higher than personal attachments or sentimentality, and in its name, he's done unspeakably sadistic things in his 'lair' like countless did before him.

But that's not the only thing. Gortash is a tyrant, a conqueror. He invaded places people already existed in and claimed these places, their treasures and their people for himself—something humans love to do and still do to this day. And he was also an arms dealer. The thing that allowed humans to suppress even those physically stronger and more advanced was weaponry. The thing that allowed progression to this degree is where his roots lie.

He paid attention in his history lessons. He made sure to learn from Sarevok's failures. Perhaps even the shortcomings of Bane's old chosen. But even despite, or perhaps because he knew that history, he made the mistake of repeating it. He was so focused on not repeating Sarevok's mistakes that he forgot the other downfalls others have had to experience. Exactly how humanity continues to learn of its own history but always gets focused on specific parts, and as such, he forgot some others and was bound to repeat them just like we're currently repeating mistakes that have happened before.

There is also Gortash's dismissal of the Netherbrain. His 'how bad could it be'-stance. He dismissed a force of nature, dismissed natural evolution because he thought himself above it, kept silent about it, and as such allowed a plague to spread through the sword coast. Something that has happened repeatedly in our past. The last time wasn't even that long ago, if we're honest.

Even the god he serves, his patron, is the only 'humane' one out of the dead three. Bhaal is a force of nature. He is death itself. Myrkul is almost an eldritch being. He's the explanation for what happens after death, and how to defeat the unknown. But Bane is human. His domain is human. Conquest, rulership, tyranny, worship. Those are human things. These are desires only humans have in that way.

But most importantly, he reigned in and controlled the weapon that is Durge. After their murder spree, and after their worship and temple management, he was the one who stilled Durge's hand. Who reminded them of their own humanity. Who insisted they were human. He became their ties to humanity to them.

So, Gortash symbolises humanity, but simply all it's flaws. He's the brutality, the ruthlessness, the endless desire and strive for progress. The desperation to be 'more'. The cruelty we display in the name of power and knowledge. The sheer lack of compassion, empathy and humanity that only humans are capable of.

And now, this also makes it really funny that he needs to die for you and your companions to succeed. It's almost like you need to kill off that cruelty in a last act of brutality to embrace a 'peaceful' future.

Expect if you're durge cuz you're fucked regardless but that's a diff topic.

[heikeee]

no but i need to scream into the void or i'll go mad. listen. kikyo wasn't a bitch. i don't think the way she was written did her any justice; it just makes her easy to hate. and don't get me wrong, this isn't about her relationship with inuyasha or kagome at all, i just want to talk about her as a character because she is one of the most complex of them and she needs to be looked at with more empathy.

i've said it before and i'll say it again: her whole thing is that she is tragedy personified. think about it. everything, and i mean every single thing that could have gone wrong in her life, HAS gone wrong. she had a difficult upbringing, having to raise her little sister and having to shoulder the burden of being the sole purifier of the shikon jewel (which constantly put her and her village under threat). she was never dealt an easy hand to begin with. then, she finds solace in love, tries her best to think of a way of unraveling herself from her duties to live a free life, while still caring for others selflessly: she took in onigumo, and he betrayed her. by pretending to be inuyasha, he had her think that her lover had betrayed her as well, and succumbed to wounds inflicted by him (or so she thought), while sealing him to the goshinboku.

the last wish she spoke of was to take the shikon jewel to the beyond with herself. later, kagome finds a way to actually destroy the jewel, which was what kikyo had intended to do but couldn't. in her heart, her last wish was to see inuyasha again. the jewel corrupts this wish and grants it in the most fucked up way possible.

her remains are robbed from her grave and she is brought back to life with NO agency on the matter, by someone who wanted only to exploit her powers. now, untethered from from her past duties, she is finally free to experience emotion. and that includes bad emotions. so anger, resentment, jealousy, contempt, loneliness, selfishness (and that's part of being human). every unfulfilled wish, the unfairness of it all. she spends the rest of the series navigating this undead existence, the duality of not belonging anywhere, constantly torn between doing what is right and what needs to be done to reach her goal, having no choice but to consume souls of recently departed girls to have the energy to fight her only fight (destroying naraku), all the while helping villagers and kids, and even the inugang, despite not wanting to align with their agenda at first. she contemplates sacrificing kohaku, yes, but ultimately her redemption is that she chose to save him instead of purifying the jewel in the end. she showed that she trusted the inugang to finish what she couldn't, and chose to spare another life, if possible (she says so herself in ch441)

it is very difficult to relate to someone that doesn't give access to her vulnerable side very often. her and sango are the two characters who had it the hardest and were forced to make the most difficult decisions out of everyone. but we love sango, even when she chose to sacrifice rin, even when she contemplated killing kohaku then herself, because we know where sango's heart lies and how torn she is about all of it. kikyo, on the other hand, is stoic and hardened by her life (and also post-life), but ultimately her biggest trait was kindness. we don't get to see her cry and be like woe is me about it, something that could've made us more empathetic towards her like we are with sango.

my point is kikyo deserves to be looked at through kinder eyes. she is a complex character, and she requires a bit more analysis and compassion to actually see who she really is. my tragic girl

[002yb]

@crezz-star

It’s disconcerting for Zoro to see his captain falter when confronted by their new crew mate. There’s no imminent threat that Jean poses, but Zoro recognizes the man's presence on their ship brings Luffy no small amount of distress. Jean is a challenge Luffy doesn't know how to confront or overcome. The emotional turmoil that follows in Jean's wake is a damning thing and Luffy struggles in an uncharacteristic way that Zoro won't ignore.

“Tell me and I’ll send him off.” Because Luffy is his captain and Zoro is his first mate. Because if Luffy asked anything of him, Zoro would follow through. He might not be able to soothe the nightmares that torment Luffy, but Zoro can banish the ghost that haunts him.

Jean’s resemblance to Ace is uncanny. Zoro is no stranger to being confronted by an unwanted doppelganger of a love lost - to be terrorized by guilt and regret personified. He has no doubt Luffy will adapt despite the discomfort, same as Zoro, but Zoro knows from experience the heartache will stay. A persistent thing even in its dullness.

Jean is his own man, but the ghost he carries with him in body and voice and fiery soul is someone else entirely. Luffy is blindsided by Jean because of it and it makes Zoro wince at how lost Luffy looks, how stricken - like he's floundering in open water, dragged down by a devil's fruit and regret he can't shake.

Sometimes Zoro wonders if his captain sees the artist at all or if all that graphite bleeds red like blood and fire. He wonders if Luffy relents to the man’s continued presence on their ship because Luffy genuinely wants Jean there or if it’s because Luffy can’t fathom turning his back even on Ace’s visage. Is it desire for crew or for his brother?

It’s been a rough adjustment since Jean stowed away to pay his respects and dues. The man is all gratitude and admiration and maybe that, too, is similar to Ace. Not in expression, but perhaps in intensity. There’s a lot that Luffy doesn’t say about his brother, but there are some sleepless nights where Luffy will choke out truths in the dark, his voice muffled by arms strewn across his face or by the breadth of Zoro’s shoulder.

‘He always called me ‘crybaby’.’ Luffy would say around breathy laughter, and Zoro would soothe him in the only way he knows how — with dry banter. A quipped, ‘You probably were,’ that’s followed by titters and a nostalgic, ‘I was. He hated it.’ And Zoro understands that in a way Luffy might not; in the way Ace did.

‘He told me he wouldn’t die.’ Luffy said just once, so quiet Zoro almost missed it. But he could feel the ghost of Luffy’s lips and the grief in how he butted his head to Zoro’s jaw, ‘I made him promise because I didn’t know what he’d do.’ And Zoro didn't know what to say; had no means of reconciling that sorrow to the memories he has, to the wild stories Luffy has shared or the tender sentiments Zoro has noticed, himself. 'He told me he'd stay if I needed him. He swore it.'

His captain and he have fought and bled for each other. They’ve gone on a lifetime of adventures together; they share their dreams, their triumphs and failures and burdens. Zoro knows Luffy, but those shared intimacies in the dark give Zoro a clarity he’d lacked.

Luffy's capacity for compassion is a terrifying thing. His empathy towards those who are hurting is just as great. Zoro is no stranger to the hope Luffy can breathe into punctured lungs, the strength he inspires with his steadfast faith and resolve. Zoro assumed it was one of Luffy's innate qualities. It's in hindsight that he realizes Luffy's compassion was learned: a crybaby pleading for his brother to stay with him, to fight and love and live and dream.

Ace is the first person Luffy ever saved; Jean is the latest and all his regard and respect is like salt rubbed in an open wound. 'Thank you for loving saving me,' only Luffy didn't - he has the blood on his hands and a scarred heart to prove it. Jean is a ghost sent to haunt him and it's painful because Jean is kind in a way Luffy isn't ready to accept.

But Luffy is willful. If he didn't want Jean, then he wouldn't be with them.

When Zoro thinks about it, he knows why Luffy chooses to keep the artist around. Jean fits with the crew, all dreams and ambition and steadfast will. Jean is finding his footing after the world left him scarred; persisting despite past hurts and finding purpose and joy in a liberated world with open skies and seas. He is the shadow of Luffy’s brother that Luffy never stopped wanting needing.

It's complicated. Grief is like that.

“He’s crew.” Luffy tells him. It’s the end of their discussion on the matter. Zoro doesn’t need anything more; he trusts his captain’s word. Luffy will work through his grievances.

One day Luffy will stop jerking his head to the side when he catches Jean in his peripheral, mistaking him for Ace and one day the disappointment at his mistake won’t be such a heartrending thing. There will come a time when the depth of Jean’s voice and the sound of his laughter stops being an echo of someone else, when graphite smudges stop looking like blood stains.

Jean might be persistent in that same way Luffy was with Ace. It’s not anything Luffy comments on or complains about, though Zoro notices how contemplative it leaves their captain. He doesn't doubt that perseverance will win Luffy over. History repeats itself in strange ways.

That aside, Luffy is a simple man at heart. Zoro sees it before it happens. He can't help the smirk that pulls at his lips because of it.

Zoro stands at Luffy's side overlooking the seas when a row of graphite beetles come marching along the railing, tiny feet leaving scuttled marks of graphite across the wood as they approach their captain. The way Luffy's eyes light up with merriment as drawings brought to life crawl across his fingers and up his arms is a wonderful thing no matter how seemingly commonplace. Laughter bubbles up from Luffy's chest alongside his awe and wonder and delight.

Zoro catches Jean sitting further down the deck, smile bright and maybe the slightest bit sheepish, misinterpreting the first mate’s stare for scrutiny. Jean makes another creature with that logia devil fruit of his and sends it across the railing. Zoro stares after it for some time, bemused until he realizes it’s a damn marimo (undoubtedly courtesy of the damn cook spreading falsehoods about Zoro's likes and interests), at which point Zoro scowls something fierce and Jean balks.

Everything is made right by Luffy’s renewed laughter though, by the width of his smile and the mirth in his eyes. His joy is contagious just like so much else about him. It doesn’t stop Zoro from smacking the pseudo-marimo out of Luffy’s hand and out to sea when his captain tries to torment him with it though — graphite pressed to Zoro’s cheek once, twice and leaving smudges across Zoro's skin all the while—

Both Luffy and Jean gape when the marimo goes flying, Luffy’s arm stretching out after it a moment later. That Luffy catches it at all is impressive; the guilt Zoro feels when Luffy opens his hand to a circular smudge from crushing the thing is somehow even greater.

Jean fits in with their crew well though. The graphite beetles congregate on Luffy’s hand, molding together into an even larger marimo and Zoro grunts despondently as his captain and their artist cackle at his expense. Some part of Luffy's smile might always be strained when he looks after Jean, but Jean shares Luffy's empathy and compassion. It shows in his patience, the persistent and tentative way he stays just within reach.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

crezz-star's Jean: the artist, the muse, the sweetheart.

[happyk44]

My take has always been Nyx births them in Tartarus but sends them away to the upper world when they're old enough because she has seen the world below from the night sky and thinks it is beautiful and lovable, compared to the dark monstrous and screaming expanse of Tartarus, a chamber, a prison, a place of torture. She loves her children as much as the night sky, a boundless entity can. She would like them to experience the world the way she sees the mortals do, how other gods and spirits do. Running across cool grass as the sun dips and day fades into midnight blue and wine-dark purple. Laughing around a warm fire. Comfortable and safe from the monsters that lurk.

The eldest two are as boundless as she is, as boundless as their father. They take to mortal form more frequently than their parents but were not truly born of it. She remembers the strange sensation of creating a sunrise. Heat and daybreak rising over the murky ocean. The world was dark in the beginning. Then the sun came, Helios and his silly chariot, and so followed the bright of day to truly illuminate the world. The twins had been born hand in hand so entwined in one another she had not realized right away there were two of them. Even in their choice of differentiation, they were so similar - day and the bright upper sky. Hemera and Aether. Glowing light blue air and soft clouds with the sun shimmering nearby.

Then long after Charon came - the oldest of her personified children. Born with skin and bones and a quiet sullen demeanour. Like Hades who lives above. But Hades is reclusive and seems picky about who joins him. He is followed only by the dead. He is far too busy, nonetheless, to handle a child by his side - establishing his kingdom and building his home from the scraps left behind.

Yes, the Underworld is beautiful, cooler than Tartarus, more comforting to those with flesh, but less so than the upper world. That was created for those who breathe with lungs and have beating hearts, so when Charon is spry enough that he walks and runs and snaps at monsters that encroach upon his space, she guides him up and out into the wake of the night.

Shadows lick at his feet. His ever present father will keep watch when the sunrises and Nyx must set. Erebus agrees with her. Charon seems brighter, better up on top than far down below where only the most reviled of persons are chained and burned. The only screams he hears are from the birds chattering. He was born of night and darkness, so he says good night to his sister and his brother, and greets his mother with a cool good morning. He hunts sleeping animals with his father to guide his way. He prefers to fish from the nearby river, sit in the shallow, slower end of the rushing stream. He speaks aloud, knowing his family listens. He expects little response in return.

After him, Moros arrives. Dark and brooding. Where Charon is sullen and withdrawn, Moros is brash and engaging. He dips away from his older brother to bother nearby towns. He tips the scales, adjusts the poles. The way of the world swells and shifts around him. Knives miss the meat to be butchered and sever fingers. Bows slip free of knots and spill collected materials to the ground. The sickly sob. Children recoil in fear.

He is unbothered. He enjoys their detachment, their worries. As he grows, Charon finds him work with the elderly. It's important, he says, that you understand mortals. It is cruel to befit fear upon them all because you have no empathy. Nyx listens closely, Erebus at her side as their son speaks quiet. His monotone voice echoes across the open air. I have no empathy, but I have lived long enough to know that mortals desire compassion. And I have lived long enough to know that being feared becomes tiring in the end.

Moros adjusts. Still he brings doom, but the old are unworried. They know what is to come. The finality of breath. The stop of their hearts. The ceasing of their brains. They know that they will close their eyes and reawaken with Hades' hand outstretched for theirs. Without terror, they tell him stories of their lives. They spill their secrets as he cleans their laundry and cuts their food. He holds their arms as they take feeble steps around the home they wish to die in.

Sometimes he knows they will not and through him they know they will not, but he promises to carry them back and lay them to rest in the ground they own, the earth they cultivated. He is not capable of empathy. He barely understands sympathy. But compassion is there, in faintest amounts, and it is enough.

Thanatos and Hypnos bear witness to the night skies in the months that follow. It is almost amusing the difference between her boundless children and their fleshed out siblings. Daylight and bright skies versus the boy child who digs graves and the boy who bears doom, the boy who finds the dead as easily as he breathes and the boy who sleeps like a cat. the girl who watches battles with hunger and feasts upon the death the daughter who knows only misery and the boy who can only assign blame. She loves them all the same. She sees how mortals exile those who do not fit, who are dark but not cruel, and does not understand. Perhaps it is because she was not born into the world with a beating heart.

Only glittering stars and a spot for the bright moon.

It is quiet with the twins. Instead of bothering mortals, Hypnos spends most of his time attached to his twin's back, dozing off onto strong shoulders. Thanatos carries him like it is his job. Lifts him off from the ground without a word. He follows Charon into the woods each day. The dead come easy to him. More frequently that he had before, Charon carries bodies home to their new graves.

I can feel them, Thanatos says. When they're gone.

Do you hurt? Charon asks. Mangled bodies are not unfamiliar to them. Torn animals picked apart and rotting are commonplace. The state of their corpses indicate pain though. Charon worries.

But Thanatos simply lowers his sleeping brother to the soft grass below and says, No. It's strange. I don't notice them until they're gone. It’s like a call in my head. They could be near me and I would not notice until their end. He turns to his older brother digging another grave. Their souls. Their ghost. Do you see them?

Sometimes, Charon says. But not usually.

Thanatos is comforted by that. Sometimes is better than never. Hypnos never sees ghosts. But he sees other things in the moments he's awake. When they enter mortal towns, he'll gaze with half-lidded eyes upon the mortals that pass by and murmur into Thanatos' ear about their secrets. Their fears. Their days.

Their dreams.

Within the wisps of sleep, Hypnos descends. He coaxes the tired to rest, coaxes babies to calm, settle the elderly and sick down for their final night. Sometimes Oizys reaches out and so he settles inside the soft world of a mortal mind, slipping through their cloud-like subconscious and drawing out what they hold back.

Processing fears is important to living life, he realizes. In waking moments, he speaks with his brother about nightmares. In sleeping dreams, he slips them along. Most dreams are simple days. He likes to watch from the side, a hidden audience. Even the most mundane is entertaining.

Then Ker comes along soon after. She is sharp-toothed and mean. Violent death and bitter disease. There is nothing mundane with her. Only seeking the vicious and cruel. She feasts on the flesh of the dead, hovering near Thanatos as he counts down the seconds to the last beat of a heart.

But she does not join them at meals. Her bloodied mouth is hidden away. The bits of skin dug under her nails are scrubbed after every meal. She knows her nature is unlike the others. That she is worse. She crowds around battles with a hunger for the flesh that will be slain. She brings plague with a single touch.

Maybe she would feel better if she was not looking at her counterpart in all things dying. Thanatos is calm and unbothered. He does not itch for blood. He does not split at the seams and feast on the dead. He is calm and collected, almost a mimicry of Charon's sturdiness. She is only a girl hungering for anguish and devastation. She cannot end a life with her own hands. But she can encourage it, and so thoroughly she does.

Charon settles beside her. Water spills over their feet. Why do you split?

Feels better, she says. There is so much inside me. I need to be more to let it out. Her reflection in the river flickers in twain. Mortals think that there are more of her than there are. The Keres, they call her. But she is just Ker. She separates into many, sloughing off her other selves like old skin, and encircles the bloodied crowd. Is it bad?

No, Charon says. Just new.

I like myself, she says. But others don't. It's annoying. She grimaces. I wish I could be better.

You are what you are. With his nail, he scrapes away a fried bloodied mark across her cheek. Do not be disappointed that others cannot handle you. The ones who can are the ones who matter. We all like you. Why do you think we don’t?

Their bodies do not sever in two, in fourths, in tens, in thousands. They do not drag corpses back home to devour because the food on the table is barely edible to them. They do not force disease on those trying to recover from painful wounds, encouraging them to fail, to suffer, to die. Mortals do not recoil with a terrified immediacy they do not understand when her siblings walk by. Even Moros has more to him than the doom he spreads.

She does not.

Maybe I don’t like myself, she considers. It’s hard being this way. There is no one else.

Charon’s arm is comfortable around her shoulders. Affection always feels so fleeting. Though she recognizes that she pulls away. It feels foreign to her as it is given. Out of step with who she is. But she does not pull away. Instead she leans into him and feels the water rush around her feet. It is cool and forgiving. She is hot and merciless.

It’s true. We will not understand you or the viciousness in your heart, Charon tells her. But we are not unsettled by you. You are why battles end. Without pain, without struggle, there would be no need to speak for peace. If all deaths were as calm as falling asleep, then people would keep fighting. But blood spilled, mortals hacked apart, watching your friends suffer beside you, delivering the dead in pieces back to their homes - that is what forces peace.

She tilts her head up and considers his words. I didn’t think of that.

Nobody does, he says. But it is true. Without death, fighting would never end. And without violence, peace would never be wrung. Whether by compromise or submission. He splashes her ankles with water. Eat with us, Ker. We miss you at the table.

The twins and Ker grow and venture far and wide. They sit beside battles and watch quietly. They walk through towns and villages. Hypnos murmurs sleepy words about dreams of freedom in the beaten and belittled. Ker manufactures suffering and bloody ends, horrible spouses and egregious people falling down stairs. Thanatos brings calm to the old and sick.

Charon disappears in the days they are gone. Months go by in search. Eventually, they find him, guided by their mother and father. He is beneath the earth, beneath their feet. They fly over raging waters and approach the god who has employed him.

He is working, Hades says. So, no, he cannot go free right now. But you are welcome to stay.

Oizys and Momus are born next. Erebus coddles them more than she does. But he is in every nook and cranny. He sees distress trapped in locked closets, follows bare feet as they run from screams and swords. The two fight with bitter words. When they come of age, Charon returns to the upper world. The family home welcomes him with a familiar coolness and wisping darkness.

He is a sharp-tongued mediator for the fighting twins and forces them apart with calloused hands and snarling eyes. They always silence themselves when he snaps. They become accommodating to their brother who drags fallen bodies out from the trees and buries them in plots around the home. When he appears, Momus holds back his bitter blaming screams and Oizys keeps tight her welling eyes and breaking heart.

It is under him that they learn to shift. It is not perfect. Momus is reviled by god and mortals alike for his sharp-tongue. He complains about poorly chosen words, critiques every appearance, laughs at sloppy form. It is helpful to some - those who wish to change. Who are unbothered by his mocking tone. But people are more emotional than he cares for. There are several lives lost to his cruel words. Like the two before him, he has no capacity for empathy. He is unable to learn sympathy and compassion is out of reach.

Who cares, is his most common phrase, spoken every time his sister asks him to become softer, gentler.

Oizys is still pain, she is still distress. Her heart still breaks easy and she cries more often than most. But she becomes kinder to herself for her limited emotional range. It is not her fault that this is how she must be. It is not her fault that this is what she has been chosen to represent in the world. Her tears do not make her weak.

Pain is necessary, she says as she wraps the broken bone of a sobbing child. It teaches us not to jump from trees, and where to draw the line with others.

She finds broken men with battles still screaming in their minds. Their bodies are automated. Every movement is meant to survive, to carry on, but their minds hold memories that keep them from being alive. She finds broken women, broken mothers, broken children. She finds those who hold back the tears and smile as though nothing is wrong. Those who need to let go and breathe. Those who need to cry. Who need to admit to the pain they are in, the anguish they have witnessed, the distress coming from the things they have experienced.

When the emotions release, when the pain flows, she crafts suggestions from the wisp of shadows. Run. Confront. Kill. Talk. Change.

Live.

I believe we are trapped in our natures, Charon had said in the bright of day as he dug a deep hole and she held a shattered girl's hand.

Her body was bloodied, slowly creeping towards utter cold. Her eyes had been glassy, unfocused. The world slowly slid from her view. Oizys held her hand to take the pain because certain things should never have been experienced. Not in anyone, but especially not in children this young.

But that doesn't mean we cannot change what our nature means, her wise older brother had said. I take the dead. I don't know why. I just always have. But I chose to do different than just steal them away from their homes. There are dead out there that will never be claimed. I will claim them. I do not need to claim that which dies at home or in a lover's arms. I will claim the left behind, the slaughtered hunter, the forgotten traveler, and I will give them a grave to rest.

Momus had scowled back rude words but Oizys held tighter the young girl's hand and listened hard.

You both can be better. You do not have to be perfect. You do not have to be nice. Moros certainly is not. Ker as well. But you can be and do more than you think of yourselves right now. He laid his shovel to rest on the ground and reached for the slackened girl. There was no life left in her. It had bled all over Oizys lap. There is more to the world than your base instincts, little ones. Yelling that others are at fault and crying from the distress of being screamed at isn't all you have to do. Look inwards. Think. He laid the girl to rest in the grave he dug. I believe in you.

Charon speaks these words to all his siblings. When Nemesis arrives in a flurry of wild black hair, she tracks across the plains of Tartarus, even in her pudgy youth, and declares pain of those she discovers in chains. She leaves the wasteland far later than any of her other siblings, both older and younger. She is endlessly embittered by the faults of mortals. Reluctance to leave their home cloaks her.

Find your order, Charon says. He has lived long, seen and met many. Dike could help. She loves justice, as much as you crave punishment.

Dike is a beauty on earth. Like her father, the crowned king of sky, she embodies order and justice. Humanity is as far as her range extends. But Nemesis can work with that. Social norms become her focus. Convention and custom are her loves. Remaining steady in tradition is gripped tight in her hand. She offers suggestions with a ruthlessness that Dike sighs through each time. Some are accepted easily. Many mortals need to be struck down by their own hubris. But others are argued about between the two.

Humanity and what it entails holds closer to Dike's heart than Nemesis'. She is capable of seeing what her father, her mother, and what Nemesis cannot. A mortal who kills to be free from pain defies convention, but does not deserve the ruthless retribution Nemesis would befit upon a mortal who kills for enjoyment.

Nemesis is always befuddled by her love's explanations. The logic is sound, she understands the point. But it never quite clicks the way it should. But she remembers Charon holding her hands and telling her that she is bound to what the world had decreed upon her, as are the others.

Hemera and Aether do not understand why their siblings prefer the dark. Moros cannot perceive how it is cruel to tell people of the vicious way they will one day die, nor does he understand why it is not appropriate to bury them in so much doom they drown themselves to escape. Ker does not comprehend that others do not feel overwhelming rage. How calm for mortals in the rest of death and sleep is unwanted by their siblings befuddles Thanatos and Hypnos.  Why people repress their pain is something Oizys will never comprehend. And Momus will never understand why Olympus banished him from their golden floors for his various criticisms.

None of them ever understood why Charon chose to bury strangers either. They followed when he ventured out and helped him carry back bodies he found. Animals too rotten to eat, people no one came for. They watched as he dug holes. As he wrapped them in clean cloth and buried them. They did not understand why. But they understood that he had to, and so he did.

You punish because you must. People fear punishment because they fear our sister. If she can continue on despite the pain that being feared brings her, I know that you can. They will never understand why you choose the retribution you choose. And you will never understand why they beg for something smaller. But you do not have to. You just assess their point of view. He laughed quietly and squeezed her hands. Or ask Dike to explain it to you.

In the years that follow Nemesis's final departure from the family home, Apate and Dolos spring out from the shadows with mischievous grins. They spread lies and tall tales in their youth. They find villages and scam, decrying potions and balms in replace of medicine. Death abounds. So Charon settles them into the dirt and tells them they can do more than harm.

There is no demand to stop being cruel. After all, Nemesis still jumps to ruthless violence in her ideas for retribution. Momus does not know how to be kind with his words. By nature, Oizys is cruel to mortals. Moros still approaches strangers with a bitter grin and watches them cry in grief and terror from their ensuing fates. But cruel is not all they must be.

The twins sidle alongside Ares, who knows Charon well. Apate guides spies into enemy lines. Acting becomes a passion of hers. After all, what are elaborate performances if not deceit of the audience? Dolos sits on friendly territory and pushes whispered suggestions from the shadows. Make it seem like you are retreating, he sighs into a general's ears. Draw them out into the open with a subtle trap. Surround them. Destroy them.

It is more enjoyable to them than scamming the masses, than telling them silly lies with elaborate words that make them believe in things that don't exist. There is a sense of accomplishment when their side wins the battle, wins the war. There is a sense of pride when Ares pats their heads with his heavy warm hand. They do not follow him everywhere. They want more than war. So they dabble in politics, in petty family squabbles. They still sell scams and spread rumors. But often they draw back to Ares' side with mischievous grins and help his chosen heroes win wars.

Geras is born with wrinkles and frail bones. His skin sags off the muscles that never truly grow. Youth annoys him. Hebe is his sworn enemy long before they ever meet. But Charon holds him as he breathes hard and reminds him of the genius in age.

I was stupid when I was young. I'm older now. Wiser. More mature. He holds his little brother's wizened frame gently. Listen to the stories of the people. Sit with your brother when he visits his dying friends. There is no permanence or perfection in being young. You are a reminder of change, of inevitability, of maturity. I would not be able to tell you this without having lived and grown through so much before me.

Immortals don't age, Geras huffs bitterly. His voice is cracked and gruff, like an older blacksmith who has breathed in too much acrid smoke.

Everyone ages. We simply are not bound by it. Shapeless. Formless. If we want to look young, we can do so. If we want to look strong, we can do so. It is a blessing. He strokes Geras's thin hair. And much like curses, blessings can be taken away.

Geras sighs and sinks into his brother's stable hold. I don't know how to make myself look different.

Then don't, Charon says. You know how, little brother. We all do. But you do not want to look young. It is not who you are.

Then who am I? What am I? Geras cries. I want to be a child, not an ugly old man. I do nothing for the mortals like the others. I don't bring the day, I don't let them know that the end is near and they should prepare. I do not allow them to feel their hurt. I do not enact punishment and I do not win wars. I am just old and tired.

As I said, you are change. People become different over time. They learn and change, they age and grow. And you are inevitable, even to the gods. You are the reason Moros has friends. You are the reason Oizys creates mourning. You are stories told to grandchildren, you are the head of the household, you are the matriarch, you are history. You are a reminder of the end, and you are a goal for the sickly, for the soldiers in battle, for couples so deeply in love. Charon presses his lips dryly to his brother's wrinkled temple. And you are my brother. You have purpose in that alone.

Eris is hardened to the world when she leaves Tartarus. As always, Charon takes leave of the Underworld and guides her hand-in-hand through darkness and grass to the family home. She is a bitter thing. She finds fault in all things. Constant conflict is demanded of her. When he does not fall to her huffing ways, she grows louder and rougher. But Charon has been steady and stable since birth. Her need to sow problems over nothing does not rile him.

Calm down, he says when she slaps food off the table for being too cold, or shouts that he mended her clothes incorrectly. She cannot calm. It is beyond her. Still he holds her shaking hands and guides her down to a seat on the floor. Relax your breathing. Search for what settles you and utilize that.

Like many of the others, Charon brings her to Ares’ side. War does not settle her, not fully. Still, she finds solace in Ares and in Enyo, her preferred companion. Enyo enjoys the bitter sensation of discord, the craft of competition that awakens in Eris’ presence. Eris is no stranger to being cared for despite how she is, but it is odd to see it reflected in the face of someone who is not her family.

They bicker and argue over anything. Eris is always the instigator, but Enyo happily throws the first blow. Hands beat against faces. Blood bleeds into spit on the ground. Bruises bloom against skin. When the fight is done, they grin and breathe and move along. They are often joined by Ker, bringing horror to the soldiers who spot her flying above right before the final blow.

She spreads trouble outside of battle. Apate and Dolos pull her into their lies and trickery. Arguments follow her subtle instigating words. The twins pull strings behind yelling backs. Momus brings blame and she pushes hostility. The ensuing breakdowns are always so fun to watch. Harmony and peace, a sense of calm, does not befit her. But in carefully placed antagonism she finds a settlement, what Charon spoke of with gentle words, and it is enough.

The last to find life on the outside is young Philotes. Her siblings think she is strange. Even from birth, she is unlike any of them. In Tartarus, she befriends monsters, even the cruelest of punished souls. She hugs with abandon, and smiles wider than any of them thought was possible for their faces. She is not sharp-toothed, and she is not mean. She is not relaxed with sturdy sullenness. She is bright and joyful.

Charon does not bury forgotten bodies around her, nor does he hunt creatures as they sleep. Death upsets her. Violence is rejected. Ker and Thanatos find no fault in her eschew of their nature. She does not fault them for being as they are. It is harder with Eris, but only on her side. Trouble and conflict slides off Philotes’ shoulders like rain. It does not make her angry, or have her spit bitter words. Eris finds that vastly annoying. But despite their stark differences, Philotes loves her family without question. 

Darkness does not suit her, though she walks through shadows as is her birthright, and does not shy away from the depths below as her companions in the clouds of Olympus do. Making friends is easy for her. She finds her way to the mountaintop from smile to smile, and hug to hug. The Graces adore her joyful nature. Pasithea finds amusement in their traded places - her born of Olympus to descend to the depths, and Philotes born of Tartarus to ascend to the golden skies. She does not join their numbers, but attends to their needs. It is a contented life filled with love, with friends, with good sex.

Charon waits for the call of his mother to let him know that another has joined their ranks but it does not come. He does miss, sometimes, the family home when it was filled with the life of another. He will settle there in his free time. The beds are clean, the pantry clear, cobwebs nonexistent. The passage of time does not encroach upon the home he built for his siblings. It does not rot the stone, nor the cloth. The house remains steady, stable, as he is.

Sometimes he walks down to the river. He will sit in the slow and shallow end under the night sky, feeling shadows wisp at his arms. There is no preference between his old and new homes. The Underworld suits him. Macaria who took him down to the depths and gave him his boat is there, his best friend. Styx rushes by as he floats. They speak casually amongst each other. The world is forever dark in the Underworld. It is cool. It is calm.

While only a few of his siblings live with him among the poplar trees and obsidian stone, the others do visit with annoyed huffs from Hades but nothing else in complaint. They join their mother and father in the heated wasteland of Tartarus. They visit the family home. They did not live there all at once, and they never will. He raised them to be independent, decisive. To be better and do more than they thought they could. Their home was a place to grow, and they have. It is no longer necessary for them. For him.

But it is always nice to walk through familiar doors and find his siblings talking amongst themselves. Lounging on cushions they used to sit on when they were much smaller, much younger. Eating at the table, sneaking bites of each other’s food. Playing the games still left behind on shelves and tables.

He never worried about what it meant to be the oldest made of flesh and bone. When he had followed Macaria down below, he did not mean to leave the three behind. They had ventured out, as Moros did. When days pattered by with no return, he thought they had found their own place in the world. Seeing them standing strong and hard-headed in front of Hades and demanding his return was more than amusing. Warmth cut through his heart.

Ferrying souls is his purpose. Watching the entrance when the Underworld is open is his purpose. It is what he has done from the beginning, carrying corpses home and laying them to rest, finding internal settlement in river water rushing beneath him. He is the ferryman and the gatekeeper. Carrying souls across the rushing river. Keeping eye on the doorway and forcing out those who try to push in without reason.

But as he always said, there is more to them than the base instinct of their nature. Like holding hands with little siblings as he walks them to their home, and guarding them from mortals and monsters and gods who do not understand what beauty exists in the dark.

[empressofthesunwriter]

Yin and Yang: Prologue

Balance is a key aspect in the world, so why shouldn’t the Avatar have an opposite?

In a world where Raava and Vaatu merge with humans, the Avatar and the Daimon try to keep the peace between the four nations.

Aang and Hua are the current incarnations, but wake up 100 years in the future.

How will these two learn all four elements in one year and defeat the Fire Lord?

Prologue

In the beginning, they were two spirits.

One of light and order.

The other of darkness and chaos.

Raava and Vaatu.

Looked into eternal combat.

Never a winner, only a short victory over the other.

No one, not even themselves, could imagine to exist in harmony together.

Then one day two humans touched the spirit's very essence.

A young man named Wan earned Raava's trust and loyalty, while a young woman named Qi saw more than evil in Vaatu, showing him kindness and compassion.

The Spirits fused with their chosen human, creating the first Avatar and Daimon.

Wan and Qi worked all their life to restore balance in the world.

They were Yin and Yang personified. 

When one pulled, the other pushed.

When one walked, the other followed.

When one lost their way, the other found them.

It was so simple to fall in love with each other.

The love born between Wan and Qi changed also the ancient spirits in them.

Something which seemed so impossible had come true.

No longer enemies, but allies, even friends.

In every lifetime after Wan and Qi, the Avatar and the Daimon were always the opposite of each other and often also lovers.

Each Avatar and Daimon together tried to bring balance between the Four Nations and the Spirit World.

It was their eternal quest, but they didn’t have to walk this way alone.

Because their other half would always be with them…

Frowning Aang looked at his mentor and guardian Monk Gyatso.

“What is it Aang?”, the elder man asked his young charge. “I know you aren’t happy with being the Avatar, but I hoped that you would feel better to know that there is another one like you. Someone who will understand you.”

Aang just frowned deeper, crossing his arms.

“I don’t like that I already have a supposed Soul Mate…It seems like I don’t have any control anymore over my life…It sucks being the Avatar.”

Gyatso tutted him gently, rubbing affectionately his bald head with the blue arrow.

“Oh my young pupil, it may be true that nearly all Avatars and Daimons were a couple, but there were a few who were just friends and completely happy with other people. You can decide if you like young Daimon Hua this way. Meet her and become her friend, more the Elders doesn’t want from you.”

The young Avatar nearly snorted at this. 

Yeah, right.

If it would go after the Elders he and the Daimon would be wed now.

At twelve years!

His childhood couldn’t end sooner for the Air Nomad elders.

He felt like crying.

He just wanted to play with his friends and goof off with Gyatso.

Was that too much?

Why did he have to be the Avatar?

“So her name is Hua, huh?”, he mumbled loudly enough, so his mentor could hear him. “Flower for an Earth Kingdom girl seems fitting. She is an Earthbender right?”

“Right, the Daimon Cyle is the opposite of the Avatar’s. Together you two will learn the four elements to become a fully realized Avatar and Daimon.”

The boy signed loudly and slouched down in his seat.

“I don’t think I will like someone who is my opposite, I mean, she probably doesn’t like to make jokes or play pranks.”

“Don’t be so sure Aang.”, said Gyatso amused. “You know opposites attract, but having things in common is good too. Just give her a chance, alright?”

***

In the Lower Ring of Ba Sing Se, the newly informed Daimon Hua hugs her mother, father and little brother tightly.

She wants to cry, to scream, to beg.

She wants to stay home.

She doesn’t want to be the Daimon.

All her life she and her family had struggled to make a living in Ba Sing Se.

Hua had used her Earthbending from a young age in any way to earn money for her family.

And now she would be stripped from them, brought before the Avatar of this era, and expected to work with him (even to fall in love with him!) and also to learn all the elements and somehow bring balance and peace to this world.

No, she doesn’t want to, but she knows it’s good for her family.

If in Ba Sing Se the Daimon or Avatar is born and comes from the Lower Rings their family then gets raised into the Upper Rings and becomes a noble family.

Something an Earth King some hundred years ago decided to make the city look good in the eyes of the other nations.

No peasant from Ba Sing Se should be a Daimon or Avatar. 

Yes, her family wouldn’t be anymore, hungry, cold or sick. They would be getting taken care of.

Only Hua had to pay with her freedom, with the power to decide her own faith.

It was unfair.

Why her?

She only ever wished for a simple good life.

She wasn’t greedy.

So why her?

Why her?

She kisses her brother's forehead, promising him to write as much as she can.

Somehow deep down Hua feels like this is the last time she will be with her family…

Water. 

Earth. 

Fire. 

Air. 

My grandmother used to tell me stories about the old days: a time of peace when the Avatar and the Daimon kept the balance between the Water Tribes, Earth Kingdom, Fire Nation and Air Nomads. 

But that all changed when the Fire Nation attacked. 

Only the Avatar and the Daimon mastered all four elements; only they could stop the ruthless firebenders. 

But when the world needed them most, they vanished. 

A hundred years have passed, and the Fire Nation is nearing victory in the war. 

Two years ago, my father and the men of my tribe journeyed to the Earth Kingdom to help fight against the Fire Nation, leaving me and my brother to look after our tribe. 

Some people believe that the Avatar was never reborn into the Air Nomads and that the Daimon was never reborn into the Earth Kingdom and the cycles are broken, but I haven't lost hope.

I still believe that, somehow, the Avatar and the Daimon will return to save the world.

Next

[harekrishna108]

☀ 𝐉𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐈 𝐑𝐀𝐌 ☀

"I take refuge in that Lord Rama who is quite pleasing to the sight, He is the master of the stage of war, lotus-eyed, Lord of the Raghu race and compassion personified."

[quitealotofsodapop]

Wait isn't the Journey to the West full of allegories and stuff and all the Pilgrims meant to represent some aspect of human existence?? If I recall correctly, Wukong is meant to represent the human mind so... all this talk about him actually being a kid really makes sense actually

He is truly the Monkey of the Mind and Heart.

Its an eastern concept that the human Mind is essentially a wild monkey running around doing whatever, while the human Will is a tamed horse that will either flee or fight when pushed to extremes (Ao Lie only goes dragon mode to save his friends).

Tripitaka is human Compassion/empathy personified. It isn't fair to always denounce him for "foolishly" trusting others. It's what he is.

Sha Wujing is said in some ideas to be Thought; always quiet and unassuming until challenged.

And ofc Zhu Bajie is human Desires. Man just wants food, butts, and naptime.

The Six Eared Macaque in theory can also represent the flipped/darker aspects of the Mind, or maybe even the concept of Left/Right brain, or Identity itself . It is mainly through them that Wukong firmly establishes who he is to the universe.

[starstofillmydream]

Unpopular opinion on Commander Cody?

Hi anon! Thank you for the question! 😊

Okay, I can see this ruffling some feathers, so if you don't agree with my opinion, that's okay! I just want things to stay civil, even if people disagree 😅

My unpopular opinion of Commander Cody is twofold: 1) the "sunshine commander" narrative needs to go, and 2) Cody needs to be separated from Obi-Wan's character.

(1) The "sunshine commander" narrative needs to go.

I've talked about this before, but I'm sick of seeing Cody being characterized as "the sunshine." It's inaccurate and a tired assessment. Just because the fandom assumes the sunrise is painted on his armor doesn't mean we should automatically ascribe him to "sunshine" traits—you have to think about the connotations. In media, personifying characters as "the sun" and personifying characters as "the sunshine" are two completely different projects. A character personified as "the sun" has steadfastness and strength/power—after all, the sun leads the day. But it also burns and is dangerous. A character personified as "the sunshine" is cheery, upbeat, quirky, optimistic/idealistic, and sometimes, ditzy. Because Cody clearly doesn't fall under the latter, it would be more fitting to characterize him as a "sun" character (if you're even going to do that at all, because honestly, it's not even necessary. Categorizing clones as stock characters/characters in a trope minimizes the individuality and complexity they try so hard to establish, since you're only attributing them to one personality trait). Cody is a marshal commander—he leads a third of the Grand Army of the Republic under Kenobi, and for good reason. He's calm and collected under pressure; extremely intelligent, especially in military strategy/tactics; has insane combat skills, both with a blaster and hand-to-hand; he's stern and disciplined in order to keep his men alive; and he's diplomatic and has a sound moral compass. Most clones, including Cody, have a jaded outlook on life because of all they experienced during the war, both in combat and out of combat (e.g., Cody's hesitance to believe Rex that Echo was alive in TCW S7E1). There is nothing cheery, upbeat, quirky, optimistic/idealistic, ditzy, and thus sunshine-y, about the guy. He's not frolicking in a field of flowers and stopping to smell the roses—he's a soldier, a highly-trained and cunning one at that. So stop diminishing that core part of him just to fit an inaccurate narrative.

(2) Cody needs to be separated from Obi-Wan's character.

I swear, I can't see a sentence with Cody's name in it without Obi-Wan being in there too. Let Cody live his own life on his own terms without his general encroaching on it! There is so much more to Cody as a person than being Obi-Wan's shadow, and thank God for the writers of TBB S2E3 for showing that so clearly (I know people love to bring up the fact Cody frowned when Crosshair mentioned the Jedi being traitors and that Cody's negotiation skills with Tawni Ames came from Obi-Wan being "the negotiator" and all...but what if...and stay with me...Cody did that all on his own? You know, because he's one of the most brilliant minds in the Republic's military?). It hurts me so much to see Cody cast aside as a side-kick (or romantic interest, which I'm not personally a fan of. Cody would not be desperate enough to be in love with his general. Come on now. The man has standards, and disrupting the military hierarchy is a little icky, in my opinion. The power dynamics will always be off, whether people want to recognize that or not.)—I listed a whole bunch of canon attributes above that people seem to conveniently forget. People in the fandom are very selective as to which clones they give grace and which clones they do not. Cody is one of the clones they do not, as well as Bly, Crosshair, and Dogma, to name a few. But, what blows my mind is that clones like Fox—who only get a few minutes of screen time in the entire Clone Wars series—are given complex personalities, fanon-created faces, and ships with multiple people while Cody, who is the first live-action named clone we meet, is completely dependent on Obi-Wan. It's such a strange phenomenon.

That was long-winded, sorry anon 😅

Hang out with me ask game!

[kirkwallguy]

another thing about Cole is I sometimes feel like he’s a mouthpiece for the writers , like they really push hard for you to sympathize with Cullen and Solas through Cole , who’s compassion personified so it must be so! Cullen it’s just heavy handed, his “good Templars know mages are people too” pisses me offffff. with solas it feels too self congratulatory like “ooo look how sympathetic and tragic he is…”. idk

No literally it's so annoying... it feels sooo lazy that the only way some characters get development is through the magical mind reading guy with no filter. i almost wonder whether he was written later in response to how shallow some of dai's characters were or if it was the other way around, with people getting complacent because "oh we'll just have cole explain how they feel later" lol