#no need to insert a god into the equation

[lenbryant]

Authority vs curiosity

[physalian]

The Dos and Don’ts of Giving and Receiving Constructive Criticism

Some of these should be painfully obvious and yet. They come from experience.

Receiving feedback:

Do

Understand that a criticism of a character’s thoughts, actions, morality, and choices are likely not a criticism of you as an author, unless the character is an author insert

Understand that they are being paid to critique how successfully you told an entertaining story, not pander to your trauma dumping

Understand that critiquing a book’s success as an entertaining story means that how much you yourself connect with or love a character or scene or plotline is irrelevant if it doesn’t make a compelling narrative

You might have written your book for yourself. Your editor is a different person with their own human biases and perspectives. If you just want to pay someone to stoke your ego, make that 100% clear up front.

Stand up for yourself and clarify where necessary if some details were overlooked or if explaining outside the narrative can better contextualize anything confusing or lacking detail.

Stand up for yourself in what feedback you are expecting, and what degree of criticism you’re willing to endure. An editor can let more or less of their own views show depending on what you ask for.

Stand up for yourself if your editor delivers inadequate or useless feedback. You’re paying them for a job, and you deserve to have it done properly.

Try to separate dislike of a book from dislike of yourself. It’s not easy, but the goal is to fix your book that you’ve already spent a lot of time writing, and they’re only trying to help.

Remember that your author insert is subjected to the same level of criticism as any other character, and that you asked for this.

Keep an open mind and be prepared for feedback that you don’t like, because you can’t please everyone. Your editor should be able to tell you whether or not a scene or character, or plotline works separate from their own personal tastes.

Don’t

Argue with your editor over their religiosity or lack thereof and insist that adhering to genre expectations means they “worship the god of [genre]”. (really, argue with your editor over anything like this, e.g. their own sexuality, religiosity, gender, socioeconomic status).

Argue with your editor while still expecting more work from them as if your aggression will in any way positively impact their perception of your book.

Insult your editor’s intelligence for not understanding your jargon and attempts to sound smarter than you are.

Get mad when your editor sees right through your BS and calls it like they see it, specifically your self-insert Mary Sue protagonist.

Insist that the solution to better understanding your book is for that editor to do extensive homework on your niche topic. If it’s a niche book for niche audiences, hire an editor who’s already knowledgeable about that niche topic.

Equate a bad review and opinion of the book with unprofessionalism. These can overlap, but they are not interchangeable.

Forget that your book is probably meant for leisure and entertainment, and your audience is under no obligation to read “until it gets good,” when they can go do literally anything else. Your first job is to entertain, if you write fiction.

Giving Feedback:

Do

Pay attention to your client’s wants and needs and expectations. If they’re more sensitive to bad feedback, do your best and stay as objective as possible. You can’t please everyone, either.

Helpful feedback includes an explanation of why an element needs work and how it can be improved. Saying “I hate this” with nothing else helps no one and just makes the author feel bad with no direction of how to make it better.

Communicate beforehand how much of your own personality your author wants from you. Do they like personal opinions and your personal reactions to the text, or do they want it as impersonal as possible and solely focused on the structure of the narrative? This might avoid a mess.

Remember to leave notes of where things worked well to balance the criticism. Even a simple “this is good” highlighting a line or a paragraph or two helps keep authors motivated to keep writing. I firmly believe that no book is completely unsalvageable.

Make it painfully clear with no room for debate that criticism of a character is not criticism of the author, unless it's an author insert, in which case the author absolutely asked for it.

Make it clear that you are just one person and these are all suggestions, not laws.

Don’t

Let your own personal opinions cloud your judgment of whether or not someone with different tastes could enjoy the book.

Unless given permission, get too personal with the narrative and reach beyond what’s written on the page.

Do more than what you’re paid for. You’re an editor, not a therapist for the writer’s trauma dumping.

Forget to wrap up all your thoughts in a condensed format that the author can reference, as opposed to endlessly scrolling through the manuscript trying to summarize your points for you.

Walk away with absolutely nothing positive to say about the manuscript. Even if it’s awful on every front, the writer still tried and that deserves merit.

This is from my personal experience beta and sensitivity reading, and dealing with other beta and sensitivity readers. We are all human and these jobs are not one-size-fits-all and there aren’t really hardline rules as every author, editor, and manuscript is different with different needs.

Just some things to keep in mind.

But also, for the authors who do write self-insert Mary Sues: You are in for a very rude awakening if you expect anyone other than yourself to adore your book with zero criticism. If you really just want someone to proofread and look for typos, tell them.

[pomrania]

Could They Survive Investigating Kira?

To clarify, this is about the Kira murders from Death Note, not the other manga/anime which has a serial murderer named Kira who kills via supernatural means. Insert "two nickels" meme here.

@couldtheycatchkira asks if a given character could catch Kira, and would they survive. Here, I'm focusing on the second part, and how to consider it. I've broken it down into four major questions:

Are they capable of dying (and staying dead)?

Are they capable of being killed by the Death Note?

Would Kira be able to kill them?

Would Kira choose to kill them?

1. Are they capable of dying (and staying dead)?

If a character cannot die, cannot be killed by any method whatsoever, won't even die from old age, then they survive investigating Kira; they survive ANY circumstance. You don't need to look at any further question, in order to get your answer (although you might choose to, just for enjoyment purposes).

Under this category, I'd also include characters with explicit good luck and/or uncanny ability to survive situations that should have killed them, where they're theoretically capable of dying, but circumstances arrange themselves such that it never actually happens. Not to be confused with "protagonist immortality", where a character survives because if they died the story would be over; this is a character who basically has indirect immortality as a superpower. Or they could fall under the category of "God's favourite chew-toy", where some higher (or lower) power simply won't let them die or stay dead.

Conversely, is the character capable of SURVIVING? In other words, how inherently doomed are they? If they were in a story where "character death" is a possibility, are they a character who's guaranteed to die? Note that this is distinct from being "doomed by the narrative", because that's doomed by ONE PARTICULAR narrative, and "getting Kira-murdered while investigating" might or might not fit their narrative doom.

This is also where I raise the issue of resurrection, and limited immortality. If a character dies but comes back to life, then they count as "surviving"; they need to STAY dead, in order to count as "does not survive". And if they're generally immortal (or at least unkillable), but can be killed under certain specific circumstances, then the question moves to "would Kira be able to figure out, and create, those circumstances".

2. Are they capable of being killed by the Death Note?

If they're immune to Kira's only real weapon, then they won't be killed by Kira; and unless they're otherwise doomed (see above), they'd survive.

Some characters, while capable of dying, outrank shinigami, or have connections that equate to such. The Death Note wouldn't work on them, for similar reasons as how an employee can't fire the head of their company.

Then there's non-human characters. This can be tricky, because in the world of Death Note, there's humans and there's shinigami, and the Note explicitly works on humans but not shinigami. To keep things fun and interesting, I'd say that any type of sapient mortal counts as a potential Death Note victim in the same way "human" does, because otherwise it gets boring; blanket immunity should be reserved for characters who specifically have it.

As for non-sapient and/or non-mortal characters… I don't have any overarching advice for them, except maybe see if you get a definitive answer in the next questions, and if not then you can use "might or might not be able to be killed by the Death Note" as a tie-breaker.

I think this is also the level to look at "characters who couldn't die from a heart attack". The Death Note CAN kill via other methods, but "heart attack" is the default. For this, you need to consider if Kira would REALIZE that simply writing the character's name down (to give them a heart attack) wouldn't suffice, and if he'd be able to figure out a method that WOULD work; but that shades into the next question.

3. Would Kira be able to kill them?

There's two major categories to this question; the issues Kira ran into in his story, and issues we get from characters who aren't "baseline human". I'll start with the second category.

Some characters have unorthodox death requirements, like non-human biology (or equivalent processes if non-biological), or limited immortality. Would Kira be able to figure out that he needs to do something different to kill them, and would he be able to figure out WHAT he needs to do?

Then, the "standard" issues, and what people first think of when they consider "would this character survive investigating Kira". In order for Kira to be able to kill someone, he first needs to know that they exist; then, their full name and how to spell it, and what their face looks like. If he doesn't have all three of those, then that character is safe from being Kira-murdered (but might still die in other ways).

4. Would Kira choose to kill them?

This factor seems to get neglected a lot, judging from the amount of times I've seen "lol they're a public figure, they'll die immediately". But Kira doesn't kill everyone whose identity he knows, because otherwise he'd be easy to locate, as the epicentre of mass death.

First, does the character fit his normal victim profile? If so, then he tries to kill them (which might or might not succeed, as detailed in the previous three questions), even if he doesn't know that they're investigating him.

Next, does he consider them a potential threat? If he doesn't know the character is even INVESTIGATING him, or if he thinks they're incompetent as an investigator, or if he believes he's sufficiently outsmarted them, then they're not a threat, and he has no reason to kill them.

Finally, does he have a reason NOT to kill them? Does he believe they should be left alive, on their own merits; or, more commonly, does he feel that they'd pose more of a threat to him dead than alive? For example, this could be them having information that would get sent out automatically upon their death, or being in a situation where suspicion would fall on him specifically if they die in an unnatural manner.

[bitterrobin]

I’ve noticed that a problem with the “Batman shouldn’t/should kill” debates around here is that a lot of people tend to self-insert themselves into the equation.

It’s always “if killing a violent guy in self defense is bad then I’m a murderer?” or “well, if it were me, I would’ve killed the guy a long time ago.”

Newsflash, you’re not Batman. You’re a real person where consequences can be applied and you need to live with whatever you’ve done.

Batman isn’t real. He’s a character owned by a massive company. In tense situations, you might often have no choice but to commit violence to save yourself. In a tense situation in DC, Batman has writers that can get him out of anything.

DC writers have the ability to write him out a situation where he could kill, with no violence committed and everyone safe. Now, whether or not they’d actually implement this kind of outcome is another issue entirely but the point stands.

Batman is a character with long-established personality, traits, moral code, history. Because he’s a fictional character, writers can’t change every single aspect of his character, they have to keep something otherwise they’re writing someone different. He’s not a real person whose sense of morality or justice can change as he ages and learns - because he can’t age. Rarely, he learns, but this chalks up to comics evolving over time due to the great conflicts/hot buttons of a specific time period when a story is being written.

“But Wasp! Writers self-insert themselves into Batman all the time!” You say. Yeah, they do. And 9 times out of 10, that piece of media turns out horribly wish-fulfilling and severely out of character continuity. Modern writers lost the plot when it comes to making Batman an undefeated god, but regardless he should be a hero.

Therefore, Batman shouldn’t kill because:

DC can always write him out of the necessity to kill.

He’s already been established for a long time to live and die by his own moral code.

He believes strongly in rehabilitative justice

He’s been established to be a symbol for a better Gotham. He kills, even discriminately, and then he’s no better than the hundreds of cops in his universe. Racism, classism, police brutality exist in Gotham. There’s full storylines and series about the GCPD and the role they fill in Gotham when Batman exists.

Batman does their jobs better than they do (usually). He’s supposed to represent justice in a way the police can never be. In a city like Gotham, fictional it may be, distrust and violence comes easy. Murder and assault runs rampant. A vigilante committing themselves to killing would do nothing to change Gotham, nothing to change the GCPD, nothing to project an image of safety, nothing for anyone.

Batman is Batman because he represents hope and compassion in a city without it.

[moobloom-mention]

To Wait for You Would Mean to Wait an Eternity (And By Then It'd Be Too Late)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Summary: Macaque escapes his own death by refusing to interfere with Wukong's JTTW. Besides, Flower Fruit Mountain needs a king that'll nurse it back to its golden age, a role he believes he'll fit quite well.

Too bad Wukong isn't one to enjoy returning to his kingdom to find it overthrown by his own moon.

Content Warning(s): Implied Death

Word Count: 5758

----------

If Macaque was asked what his favorite thing about Flower Fruit Mountain was, he’d be the first to admit his fondness for its consistency.

Having risen amidst the calm waters of Earth’s equator, the island had never known the harsh bark of seasons demanding a change of climate, forever encapsulated in a state of spring if only to nurture its vibrant garden of flowers and trees.

The sky, too, never strayed far from the familiar status of clear, the sun’s routinely appearance a gentle glow everso eager to warm the fur of whatever little one had chosen to lounge about in its rays. Rarely was the sun ever blocked by the startling appearance of clouds and rain, their designated gods not daring to tread foot upon the island less it’d been deemed absolutely necessary.

Macaque supposes their fear of going anywhere near Flower Fruit Mountain meant that at least something good to come out of Wukong’s past claim as king. The sage may have disappeared from the mortal plane at least a few centuries ago, but not many beings were willing to take the risk encountering the ire of Wukong just to step on the island’s beach.

But whilst the implied protection very-well scared off any celestial beings or demons seeking new territory, it’d never exempted Macaque from needing to console little ones and fix whatever problems that’d frightened them.

He’d long outgrown the capability of counting on his hands just how many times he’d awoken at the first mention of sunlight to small monkeys hopping frantically atop his bed with urgent cries- ones painfully dismissive of his six ears -howling, “Macaque! Macaque! We lost [insert random number] banana trees last night-!”

Of course, Macaque- even amidst battling the thrall of sleep and his newly formed migraine -would always be mindful in comforting whomever had woken him, reminding them that he’d assist with planting more trees to replace whatever they’d lost. Sure it’d take a good year for the saplings to sprout and bear fruit, but that’d give them plenty of time to ensure other food alternatives remained bountiful.

Besides, if finding a few dead trees ended up being the annual tragedy his kingdom would need to face, Macaque couldn’t find himself bothered by the occasional rude awakening.

But to be savagely dragged from the comforting embrace of sleep by something heavy thumping hollowly against his forehead?

Yeah, no. He’ll take small hands shaking him awake anyday.

“Wha-?”

“Oh good, you’re not dead,” a familiar voice heaves somewhere to Macaque’s left, and he winces as the same hollow sound- which he now recognizes is a scroll -clatters violently against the stone flooring of his bedroom. It’s a harsh noise that harmonizes awkwardly with the distant chitters of other little ones roaming about the upper tunnels of the cave system. “I was beginning to think I’d have to handle the end of the world by myself-”

Now that puts distance between Macaque and the thick tendrils of sleep he’s still partially ensnared by, the king’s ears flattening in brief sorrow as he forces himself from the comforting warmth of his bedsheets and onto his feet.

He’s almost certain the little one that’d struck him is Èzuòjù, a blonde gibbon that’d never been the type to fear Macaque growing angry over his wild antics. Of course, Macaque’s genuine temper was a difficult thing to evoke, but it was the youthful spirit’s bravery that’d gotten him in good graces with the antisocial king in the first place.

Alas, it isn’t the familiar grin of a gibbon that greets Macaque’s brief scan of his bedroom, his eyebrows pinching as he finds an oddly short wall of bamboo scrolls seemingly floating across the floor. It takes an embarrassingly amount of time before he realizes that his library hadn’t suddenly learned the art of levitation, but that it was Èzuòjù himself dragging the heavy things across the room.

It’s an odd sight, really, the little one never having been the type to take an interest in reading. Learning to verbally translate Mandarin? Sure. But stealing Macaque’s reading material?

Maybe the world really was ending.

Wait-

Macaque hisses as the damning thud of a migraine vibrates against his skull, pressing a hand to his eyes if only to quell the pain and attempt to chase aside the fog of sleep still triumphantly seeking refuge behind his gaze.

The noise of discontent that’d managed to surface feels far too muted as well, his tongue heavy and uncooperative despite the verbal communication and sheer mental load this situation is bound to demand from him. “Why- my scrolls? And the world- why is the world ending?”

“The sky’s black,” Èzuòjù announces, helpful as per usual in his report. The wall of scrolls hesitates once before it clatters to the ground, Macaque’s thudding ears echoing the unapologetic ���-oops-” that’s carelessly tossed his way.

“And,” the little one drawls with newfound disinterest in the pile of scrolls as he lifts his gaze toward the other. Macaque blinks expectantly when Èzuòjù suddenly pauses, the gibbon’s previous expression of quiet triumph quickly dissolving into one akin to shock. “Holy shit, you are dark.”

Ok-ay.

The world is ending.

The world is ending and it’s all because…the sky is black.

And because Macaque is dark. Whatever that could mean.

A disorientated sound claws its way up the back of his throat and he almost entertains the thought that this could all just be apart of some prank. Macaque was never the quickest to gain coherent thought after being abruptly woken, and Èzuòjù wasn’t the type to pass the opportunity to terrorize Macaque’s occasional moments of peace.

The worlding ending wouldn’t even make sense in the first place; Earth was far too early in its cycle for the Heavens to let it die, and well, the sky being black wouldn’t be anything new.

It’d only mean that the moon was still in its first phases, too weak for its light to reach the Earth and declare that Macaque should definitely be fast asleep instead of doing whatever this is.

“…and?”

The gibbon stares a beat longer before visibly shaking himself from whatever spell had possessed him. “It’s noon.”

Heavens above, no wonder Èzuòjù thought he died. He’d overslept, badly, and now it was noon.

Actually, no. He’d overslept and now the world was apparently ending, all because the sky is still dark and it’s supposedly noon-

Oh.

Oh.

“There it is.”

There’s a shrill yelp as Macaque flings himself toward his wardrobe, unguilty as he disregards the indignant expression that crosses Èzuòjù’s face.

“The world is ending, and you’re getting dressed?” the gibbon asks, incredulously.

But Macaque pays no mind toward the question, clawing desperately through his drawers in search for the familiar rough fabric of his yellow and black hanfu. It was an article of clothing that the king had practically been raised in, and he’d made dozens of copies in the past few centuries if only to keep the original hanfu safely contained within his wardrobe.

On a normal day, Macaque would’ve hissed at the idea of wearing it outside, fearful the Heavens would take his boldness as a taunt to destroy it, but today was anything but normal.

His world was soon to end, and the king could care less for his hanfu’s safety as he dressed himself in red pants and a waistplate tied to his hips by a sash only a shade lighter than his pants. His iconic scarf is the next item to wrap around his neck, Macaque certain it’d match with the pale complexion of his fur.

(“Reds and yellows, bud, reds and yellows. Lemme tell ya, they’ll change your life!”)

He almost hesitates as his hand fastens around the decoration to coincide with his outfit: a gentle crown with leaves that’d been chain-linked together by little ones. It wasn’t a sturdy headpiece by any means, and it needed to be remade as least every three months, but Macaque had never minded such a fact.

The little ones were more than happy to remake him his crown and graciously bestow it upon his head with chants of, “Our king- our king-!”

“The world isn’t ending,” he manages to murmur whilst blindly adjusting his crown, his other free hand naturally clenched at the scarf around his neck. He knows that reds and yellows will never quite fit into his albino color scheme, but Macaque would be damned if he wasn’t draped in clothes that sang of nostalgia for his own king’s return.

He dares a glance at the mirror he’d previously leaned against his wardrobe and-

…and he pauses.

Because surely, that couldn’t be him?

It resembled him undoubtedly, the reflection standing with its own expression of shock and nostalgia as a hand lies frozen against its scarf. There’s even an awkward tilt in the leaf crown it wears, the gentle vegetation having given way to stray fur still tussled from sleep.

A glance toward his arm only confirms his fears, chest squeezing with an emotion he refuses to put a name to.

Gone is the familiar shade of white fur that Macaque had grown to adore amidst his centuries of life, replaced by a pelt bearing an almost navy shade of black.

It isn’t unlike the color of the sky just beyond his window, not quite able to be called black as though whatever deity had cursed him had taken into account the sun’s weak attempts to bring light to Earth.

He looks every bit the king he’d sworn himself to become- even adorned in colors that finally compliment the red masking around his eyes.

Macaque stares and what the fuck- what the fuck-? Why- this had to be His fault- He isn’t here by my side and it feels like a brand, get it off- get it off-

Èzuòjù’s tail flicks, hesitant in the corner of Macaque’s eyes and his mouth instinctively clicks open. It’s only habit as his mind combs desperately for something to say, anything to reassure the little one so blatantly unnerved by the scene.

But it proves to be pointless, his jaw clamping shut once more as a purple vortex pools beneath his feet. The shadows hiss with discontent, a second voice to Macaque’s blinding panic whilst they lash relentlessly at his ankles.

It isn’t until his ears flatten that Èzuòjù suddenly leaps from his state of uncertainty, hand outstretched as though to stop the other.

“Wait, Macaque-!”

But the king only falls blissfully into the familiar snare of his shadows, the temporary comfort that the portal brings short-lived as he’s spat violently somewhere amidst the cave system’s Eastern Tunnels. The spare shadows still lurking at his feet rumble with a silent fury, but for once the apathy his shadows seek appears only in the truth that their master could care less for the rebellious behavior.

He’d been long deserving of the ability to freak out, and today was the day he finally had a reason to do so.

After all, Macaque was nothing but a dead monkey desperate to breathe meaning and control into his final moments of life, certain he’s soon to become the very image of a dead king that Macaque had once proclaimed Wukong to of been.

The only difference will be a body to prove the other’s death.

“…que…!”

No, he doesn’t have the time to think about that. It was noon, and Wukong could very well burst through the waterfall at any moment, seeking any ounce of attention the island could afford.

The great sage might even demand a banquet at once and of course that’d leave no room for Macaque’s tongue to intervene, it never had before. Wukong would do anything to avoid confrontation that he’d inadvertently caused, including using the excuse of hunger like he used to amidst the Brotherhood.

“…caque…!”

His excitement may even gloss over the blatant evidence that a coup had taken place in Wukong’s absence; one orchestrated by his best friend nonetheless. The blissful peace that’d come with the sage’s oversight wouldn’t last though, especially with regard toward the fact that Macaque would refuse to let the little ones approach him.

Maybe he could…oh gods, do what?

Just turn the “Great Sage, Equal to Heaven” away the moment he attempts to step foot on the island?

The bastard would be furious.

“…slo…own…!”

…or maybe he wouldn’t. Wukong’s temper had always been something that’d needed to be fed and nurtured through mutual anger, surely that could be useful. Should Macaque at least attempt to remain calm and blunt, then the sage would have no room to be combative, right?

It wasn’t perfect, but gods was Macaque reaching desperately for straws- anything to preserve the prosperity he’d sworn to eternally gift Flower Fruit Mountain and the little ones.

Besides, Wukong wouldn’t dare do something drastic and violent against someone who’d protected his homeland for centuries, let alone his best friend. There’d be no need for him to summon his staff and-

“Macaque!”

The king freezes at an instant, terror striking behind his gaze as he searches frantically for whoever had called his name. There’s a flash of golden fur- one that looks a little too familiar -and Macaque almost shrieks amidst in his attempts to not stumble.

The suffocating blanket of panic quickly sheds to make way for guilt as he finds Èzuòjù staring, the gibbon’s eyes the size of rice bowls and his fur puffed out in clear concern.

His shadows must have teleported him not far from the confinements of his room, only forgiving enough to gift him a few seconds to breathe.

“Èzuòjù,” Macaque swallows, a hand to his chest if only to calm down its rapid beat. “You scared me.”

“I scared you?” the little one questions and Macaque can do nothing but weakly offer his arm for the gibbon to leap upon, a small olive branch that’s taken almost instantly. “What is going on? The sky’s black, you’re black, the world isn’t ending apparently, but you still disappeared on me, and are we going into lockdown or-?”

“Yes,” Macaque interrupts, lunging at the opportunity to escape the ontourage of questions bound to be sitting on the gibbon’s tongue. He could barely keep his own head straight, let alone try and answer Èzuòjù’s questions should they continue.

…but going into lockdown would be a good idea. It’d certainly keep the little ones far from whatever reaction Wukong could potentially have.

“Look,” he breathes, praying that he doesn’t sound as exasperated as he feels. “Long before you were born, the Jade Emperor foretold an event that’d occur amidst the next eclipse- today’s eclipse.”

“Eclipse-?”

“The sun and moon will merge together, and when they do, a…demon of sorts will appear on Flower Fruit Mountain.”

There’s a beat of silence and Macaque almost fears that the gibbon will claim the excuse to be as phony as his weak attempts to seem collected. Èzuòjù had always been good at that.

But the gibbon only stares a moment longer before his eyebrows knit. “What do you need from me?”

Heavens above, for all the grief he gives Èzuòjù, it’s moments like this that remind Macaque exactly why he doesn’t mind the little one’s mischievous antics.

“I need everyone in the Upper Tunnels of the Western Caves, and no matter what happens, they aren’t to leave. I’ll portal anyone I’m able to find in the Eastern Caves, but a mouth to explain the situation or at least warn others would be helpful.”

There’s only a firm nod before the gibbon scampers off, presumably to locate the desired caves and provide relief to whatever panicked brother needed it.

The crushing wave of relief at being alone once more collides oddly with the cautiously suppressed anger that’d been arising within Macaque’s stomach, a dangerous concoction of panic and frustration over the situation at hand.

Wukong was never meant to return, and it was such a fact that had gifted Macaque the boldness to ascend the throne in the first place.

Macaque might as well surrender his title of king anyway, now sharing more in common with a wife whose husband had come home early and was soon to catch her amidst her affair. For Heaven's sake, he was stumbling about the extensive cave system if only to portal away any little ones like a wife would her paramour.

It’s a measurement of safety, he tells himself if only to comfort his mind.

History was not one to take kindly to being rewritten, but two centuries had proven Macaque’s attempts to be a blinding success. He refuses to give Wukong yet another chance to ruin everything he’d done to protect both their subjects and the sage’s legacy of chaos.

It’d only take one stray slip of tongue for his life’s work to be uprooted. The little ones would learn that Wukong was in fact not deceased, and that Macaque had sworn the sage’s allegiance where it didn’t belong.

After all, Wukong had never proclaimed himself to be allied with the subjects of his mountain; it was only the pride that came with claiming ownership to a kingdom that he had entertained.

You are not ruining this, Macaque swears, and the mantra continues in his attempts to seek out any stray little ones.

It’s only once the panicked chatter of ape-speak settles toward the western side of the cave system that Macaque finds himself content pacing the Central Cave. It was a gracious clearing, full of vegetation and still bearing the same hut that Wukong had built nearly a millennium ago. If there was anywhere the sage would seek company first, it would be here, only a short journey from the cave’s initial entrance.

Macaque isn’t sure how long it takes for his theory to reign true, his ears flicking as the soft hiss of a cloud dissipates somewhere beyond the cave’s waterfall. Clumsiness writes itself in the heavy thrum of each step, the familiar sound not unlike if Macaque attempted to recognize someone’s handwriting.

The note of recklessness continues as the steps grow closer, and Macaque is certain that even if he lacked six ears, he’d still be able to hear the sheer weight behind the sage’s feet.

“Mihou!” that damned voice sings, not unlike a demon outstretching their hand in faux kindness. “Little ones! I’ve returned home!”

Home.

Macaque tries his hardest to chase the anxiety and bittersweet sorrow that laces his tongue, bidding his lips to remain firm in an expression of displeasure.

Perhaps in another life “Mihou” would’ve been all Wukong needed to say before Macaque would spring into chirps of glee, smiling fondly as little ones tackled their righteous king to the ground. Apologies would cascade from the sage’s mouth like a waterfall, and tearful laughter would consume his six ears as they attempted to make up for the time they’d regrettably lost in the other’s absence.

Faintly his mind traces another life, in which Wukong calls only out to the little ones, far too acquainted with the concept that Macaque would never again be able to step foot on Flower Fruit Mountain.

But such fantasies would never be the life Macaque could live within; they’d died the day that the ex-moon had been gifted a choice:

Mourn and daydream over the useless taunts of “what-if”, or focus on protecting the little ones and ensure the prosperity of their lives.

The decision was obvious, so both he and Flower Fruit Mountain had been forced to cut the strings of codependency that’d once kept them enthralled with their past king.

Wukong’s voice yells throughout the cave once more and Macaque hates how heavy the crown sitting atop his head has grown.

Wukong had never needed a crown to proclaim his status of king. His very essence exuded that of power, an ambitious conquest that Macaque had never found himself caring enough to venture toward. He wasn’t king through acts of bravery, nor because he’d inherited it righteously in the death of his best friend.

Macaque was only king because he’d been left to his own devices, and because the crown atop his head exclaimed that such a statement must be true.

A flash of gold finally peaks into the cave’s clearing, and Macaque swallows the desperate whine that’d made its home within his throat, forced into silence out of fear he’d call out for someone he’d sworn he’d buried nearly two centuries ago.

Wukong was meant to be dead and yet here he stood, uncharacteristically shy as he sought refuge behind a grand fern.

“Wukong.”

Said monkey’s head snaps to meet Macaque’s wide gaze, those familiar golden eyes crinkling into something akin to joy before they flee back toward the vibrant greenery in a nostalgic display of guilt and panic.

If not for the sombersome scene, Macaque is certain he would’ve smiled at how familiar the expression is, not unlike the reaction Wukong would have whenever Macaque smacked him upside the head for doing something stupid. It’d all been in good fun, amidst a fun when they’d all been so young and naive, too focused on lounging about and cracking jokes to worry themselves with immortality and power.

The clearing stills, and for a moment, he fears that they’ll both continue the awkward stalemate.

But the anxiety on Wukong’s face quickly falls apart, giving way to a quizzical expression as their eyes meet once more. The sage isn’t unlike a rabbit as he bounds forward, Macaque’s rule of personal space forgotten in Wukong’s eagerness to get a closer look at the newly-turned-black monkey.

“Something's…different about you,” the great sage begins, ever-so-observant as Macaque tries not to squirm beneath his gaze. He doesn’t care to denote the uncomfortable stance of the celestial monkey, springing up dramatically as he chitters with excitement. “Oh, I know! C’mon, bud, even I’d be able to tell you’ve dyed your fur. Kinda miss the grey, though.”

“White,” Macaque corrects, far from amused.

“Pfft, same thing.”

Well, Macaque supposes there is one thing he could always trust Wukong to do; disappoint him time and time again.

“Fun crown, too. The little ones manage to strangle you into it?”

And how could he forget Wukong’s habit of releasing tension through attempts to embarrass those around him?

“No, actually,” Macaque grits, trying his hardest to maintain poise. The crown had been a thoughtful gift bestowed upon him, and as much as the thought made his six ears turn red, Macaque felt much more at-ease wearing it in the face of his past king.

(“You deserve to be king,” the crown sang, sitting content atop his fur. “You wouldn’t of been given it otherwise.”)

“It was a gift. They missed having a king, so…”

So they’d wrapped Macaque in the finest jewelry and armor of Wukong’s treasury, completing his coronation with a carefully weaved crown and Macaque’s now infamous red scarf, whose unique red hue was the result of a dye from the flowers of Flower Fruit Mountain and a few feathers that’d been “borrowed” from a Phoenix.

“That’s adorable,” Wukong grins, an almost knowing expression on his face. “Ya’ think they’ll make me one if I ask them?”

“I didn’t have to ask for mine.”

“Is that a no, or?”

“It’s a no.”

“…it’s my turn, then.”

And Wukong bows, his chest low to the ground as though he were expecting for the crown to be transferred onto his head.

Oh, Macaque realizes, dumbly. Wukong does expect the crown.

His heart makes an ugly snarl, but the sound that comes from his throat is nothing but unkempt laughter. Quickly he swipes a claw at the tears forming at his eyes, if only to keep the salty water from dampening his fur. “You expect me to give you my crown?”

“I mean, every king does need a crown, doesn’t he? C’mon, Mac, just share this once-”

Wukong lunges and adrenaline collides violently with the blood cells running through Macaque’s veins. His brain feels as though it’d been dowsed by the ice-cold bucket of panic, falling into a state of defense even despite the fact the Wukong had clearly aimed only for the crown.

A furious shriek beats Macaque to the punch, fangs entering the scene before being followed closely by the harsh sound of Wukong screeching.

Macaque blinks once, vision clearing to reveal the “Great Sage” himself flailing his arm like a helpless infant and Èzuòjù’s fangs sunken deep into scarred flesh.

“Let go!” Wukong shrieks in Mandarin, and Macaque knows damn well that Èzuòjù understands the command.

After all, the gibbon had been the one to demand that Macaque teach him Mandarin in the first place, now well-educated in translating the language despite the fact that Èzuòjù’s vocal cords would never enable the gibbon to speak it.

Wukong is pleading on deaf ears, as the king of Flower Fruit Mountain has yet to demand the gibbon to release his prey.

It isn’t until Macaque extends his own arm that the gibbon returns to his righteous king’s side, snarling once toward Wukong before settling down at Macaque’s shoulders.

“Little one,” Wukong whines, exasperated as he cradles his wounded arm, and the noise feels…odd as it bounces against Macaque’s thrumming eardrums. It’s a form of ape-speak that the king hadn’t heard in over seven centuries, old but blatantly familiar dripping from the sage’s tongue.

Heavens above, Wukong hadn’t even attempted to keep up with the rapidly changing dialect of his mother tongue.

It’d been at least a handful of centuries since “little one” had turned into the gentle chirp of “little one”.

“I thought I told you to stay with the others,” Macaque begins, forcing himself to ignore Wukong’s noise of confusion. Perhaps if the “Great Sage” had put effort into his own mother tongue, then he’d have the right to tune into the conversation. “What if they come searching for you?”

“They won’t,” Èzuòjù huffs, teeth still bared but certainly not toward Macaque. “And who-? Is that the demon? He could’ve done something if I hadn’t appeared!”

“He woulda just stolen my crown for a moment,” Macaque murmurs in a desperate attempt to diffuse the situation. “He wouldn’t have hurt me.”

Still, Macaque finds himself doubtful of his own words. After all, Wukong had still yet to understand the reason behind Èzuòjù’s aggression.

“Mihou,” the sage complains. “You better be reprimanding him for biting me.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Macaque rolls his eyes before gently petting at the fur surrounding Èzuòjù’s face. “But I’m glad you bit him, I was seconds away from doing it myself.”

“That does not look like reprimanding.”

“You deserved it,” Macaque shrugs. “Don’t try and swipe what isn’t yours.”

“But I’m the king! I’m in need of a crown.”

“The King of Flower Fruit Mountain already wears one,” Macaque hums, bowing his head slightly if only to allow Èzuòjù to try and straighten the tussled crown. “I don’t think I see any other kings in need of one.”

Wukong freezes, and for a heartbeat Macaque almost expects to be punched, even with a little one crouched on his shoulders.

But the Great Sage only stares with wide, uncertain eyes. “You wouldn’t-”

“Èzuòjù,” Macaque interrupts, his voice uncharacteristically harsh as his ape-speak blends into Mandarin. “This is not a conversation for you to hear.”

Èzuòjù’s eyes almost match that of Wukong’s, though a deeper shade of concern versus betrayal runs rampid. “But, Macaque-”

The gibbon is given no further chance to speak, quickly whisked into a vortex that’d put the little one with his siblings in the Western Tunnels. This fight would not be Èzuòjù’s to hear nor attempt to interfere with.

“You’ve been gone for several centuries,” Macaque continues, quickly dismissing the bitterness that’d threatened to lace his words. “Y’know, when you told me to do anything to protect Flower Fruit Mountain, I took it to heart.”

“I didn’t think that meant ���take the throne’!” Wukong gapes, throat raspy with what Macaque can only hope is disbelief and not strain from attempting ape-speak.

“Oh, of course,” he agrees and now he allows sarcasm to drip from his tongue. “‘Suppose I was just meant to, y’know, keep it warm and then lay down like a good dog, yeah? ‘Heel, Mihou, your king has returned’!”

The words taste as bitter as Macaque recalls them to be, still clear in his mind despite them having been uttered nine centuries ago when they were still on good terms with the brotherhood. He only has Wukong to blame, who’d never let his companion live down the embarrassment he’d caused during one of their many meetings.

Amidst his own exhaustion, Macaque had accidentally stolen Wukong’s seat at the end of the table, a mistake that the table had at first brushed aside. After all, the closeness of the two monkeys could easily explain this odd occurence to of been planned.

Macaque would sit in Wukong’s seat, and Wukong in Macaque’s.

Alas, there’d been a soft croon of “Aww, Mihou, keeping it warm just for little ol’ me? No worries, your king has returned-” before the table realized that the white monkey had indeed made a genuine mistake, bursting into laughter whilst shades of red painted Macaque’s face and ears.

His expression hardens.

“I refuse to kneel before you again.”

“But I am still your king,” Wukong deflects, bold. “And this is still our home.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Macaque shrugs, nearly shocking himself with how nonchalant his taunts sound. It’s a stark contrast to the consistent stutter his heart bears and he’s almost grateful that Wukong doesn’t share his enhanced hearing. “It took centuries, but Flower Fruit Mountain doesn’t remember you anymore. At least, not as anything but their island’s first king, who’s long gone in history. You can’t remain here and call it home.”

Wukong’s smirk is nothing but teeth, lips curled into an ugly expression of gloat. “So, you’re, what? Banishing me from my own kingdom?”

“Yeah.”

Heavens above, Macaque almost swoons over the way the sage’s smug expression drops into something more masked and deadly.

“Don’t be cruel,” Wukong growls. “You’re being cruel.”

I’m terrified, he instinctively corrects. Not cruel.

Wukong merely could not stay on Flower Fruit Mountain. Macaque had built a life that the island’s prior king could not be apart of.

Macaque’s ears flatten. Perhaps he was being cruel.

But who would cruelty’s mother be if not terror?

“Your stupidity and absence killed this island- killed me before I ascended the throne,” Macaque reports, his tail rigid as he stares at the ape he’d sworn he’d buried. No, he thinks, he’d only buried the memory of Wukong amidst his begging to the Heavens that the bastard would never return.

But an eclipse rages on just beyond the curtained waterfall.

And Macaque’s fur will never be white again, forever branded by Wukong’s misdeeds.

“For centuries I called for you, begging the stars to let you return to Flower Fruit Mountain once again, but never once did you heed my call,” he tsks, “You stood tall, strong as ever in the face of freedom, even as I mourned the very thought of you.”

And Macaque hates how his own conscious yearns to protect Wukong’s mistakes, with screams that selflessness and vulnerability had never been the melted rivers of iron that Wukong’s strength was forged within. Neither was it true that kindness was the native tongue the “Great Sage” could conjugate the words of with ease.

Only the familiar sensation of anger could appease Wukong in the face of confrontation, like a heron poised but still ever-so irritated in its wait for prey to arrive.

But unlike the common tale between a heron and fish, Macaque does not quiver nor dart beneath the venomous stare of death itself, standing tall and arrogant as Wukong does before him.

He cared not for the sage’s opinion on that fact that Flower Fruit Mountain was now Macaque’s to protect, and whether such protection was against outside demands or the island’s own previous king would never matter; Macaque would rather face death itself than forfeit his centuries of work.

“I haven’t killed you,” Wukong breathes, voice an inch from being a hiss as his shoulders sit strained with what Macaque can assume is the thin lacing of desperation. “If I had, you’d already be haunting me. In death you would have followed me, taking any form- moon or shadow -just to argue and speak with me.”

And like a newborn fawn, Wukong lurches forward, a hand clenching tightly over his chest as though he were soon to burst into laughter. “It’s in life that you refuse to follow me. You’ve agreed to abandon me and try to banish me from our home.”

Ironic, for Wukong to claim he’d been the one thrown aside.

Macaque stands firm, gaze unwavering. “The ‘Great Sage’ doesn’t need me to find some other island to conquer. Your lust for power has already settled any domain of this realm yours to take.”

There’s a beat of silence, and a vicious snarl hovers atop Wukong’s lips.

Perhaps in another life, amidst the gentle mantras of tranquility and suffrage, Wukong would have paused to acknowledge his misdeeds and agreed it to be best that he found a new kingdom to proclaim as his own. Or perhaps in another life this situation would have never existed, as Wukong chose to live his days peacefully on Flower Fruit Mountain instead of daring to wreak havoc on the Heavens.

But Macaque can only mourn for what could have been, for in this life Wukong was still a creature birthed with the knowledge he’d need to fight his way through life, a mantra that’d grown him obsessed with sneaking past the title of “distrustful and cunning” and proclaiming the words to be sisters of “ambition”.

Macaque knows well that Wukong is an unstoppable force that now stands firmly before an immovable rock, one not unlike the one Wukong had destroyed the moment he was born.

Today will be the day legends will speak of, the Heavens concede, safe from the sage’s wrath amidst the clouds. They’ll pass stories of the rivalry that’d caused the obsessive relation between shadow and host.

For if the Great Sage, an Equal of the Heavens, could not have his moon by his side, then he would have him forever in his shadow, lying in wait for his righteous king to order him about.

Today, Macaque would learn the true sensation of dying, if only to return and haunt Wukong at every turn.

[licorice-tea]

I’m A Ghost Of You, You’re A Ghost Of Me

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x reader

Content: right person wrong time kind of (but not angsty!), fire/bonfire, first meetings, pre-romance dawn era, reader has some lore/has a bow and arrow/is from a noble family!

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: This is loosely inspired by “San Luis” by Gregory Alan Isakov (which is where I got the title from, too.) It also kind of sets up for when Zoro and reader could meet again, so let me know if you want this to be a series!

Part 2

You and Zoro had known each other for a year before Luffy even set sail to chase his dream. Being a bounty hunter lead him to having connections, albeit reluctantly, and a sort of network of people who could get him things he needed. Information, a place to sleep, whatever.

One such connection was to a mildly corrupt marine officer who had asked him to take on a few jobs in the past. This time, the swordsman/pirate hunter had been asked to take on a sort of odd job, and he agreed because of the promise of a hefty reward. He’d landed on an island with a heavy marine presence, but wasn’t technically a wanted criminal himself (yet), so he wasn’t nervous. The place also reeked of nobility, so it was no surprise when a marine officer approached Zoro with a task as a favor to one of the noble families of the island.

“The l/n family… their heir is, how do I say this politely…” the marine looks over his shoulder at your father.

“They’re difficult. And this isn’t the first time they’ve left home, but they…” he sighs and rubs his temple. “They won’t come back unless someone makes them.”

“How old are they?” Zoro asks, looking for information on your skill level, how strong you are, what kind of weapon you carry, etcetera.

“18.” The same age as him (at the time.)

Zoro shrugs and crosses his arms. “18 is old enough to leave home. Just let them.”

“Please! They-they can’t just leave. There are pirates on the seas!” Your mother cries, but honestly she seems more angry than truly worried.

Your parents are hiding something, he can tell. And, he intends to find out. “Fine.”

They hand over a quarter of the reward money for your safe return, and show proof of the rest. Satisfied, Zoro takes what little information they’ve given about you and sets sail.

He finds you on a neighboring island, dancing the night away at some sort of beach party. You don’t seem particularly threatening, but you don’t appear naive or weak either. You’re not even doing anything wrong; to him, it just seems you want to live your life. Still, he watches you for the better part of an hour (as it would make him naive to equate your joy to weakness.) He tries to insert himself into the party scene, walking along the shoreline until he’s a part of the crowd. You’re dancing around a bonfire with some other partygoers, and when you finally turn in his direction, he’s mesmerized. Zoro never really considered himself a love at first sight kind of guy, nor a romantic in any way, but god are you pretty. The glow of the fire behind your illuminates the contours of your neck and shoulders, and the moonlight from above seems to make your eyes light up.

“Like stars.” he thinks to himself.

The swordsman is so lost in you that he doesn’t realize he’s staring. And by the time he does, you’re making your way over with a smile. He seems familiar to you, and around your age, so maybe you’d met him on one of your… previous escapades.

You had walked up to him with all the poise of nobility, but no hint of a feeling of superiority. “Hi!”

“…Hi.”

“Wanna dance?” you extend a hand, offering friendship and possibly more to the quiet man.

Zoro snaps out of his trance and uncrosses his arms. “That’s alright.” He silently wrests a hand on the 3 swords hanging from his hip.

Oh. Oh.

“Ah…” you retract your hand awkwardly and take to cradling your arms while looking away, toward the sea. “You’re that bounty hunter, I recognize you from the newspaper… Are you here to take me back?”

You’d clearly done this before, he realizes, as your previously bright smile turns bittersweet. “Yeah.”

“Hm.” your sullen expression turns to curiosity. “And if I refuse?”

“I don’t carry these as accessories.” he taps the hilt of one of the swords.

You laugh, genuinely amused by his dry response, and your hand comes to rest on something hooked over your shoulder. He had mistaken it for the strap of a bag, but upon closer inspection it was a bow. “Neither do I.”

So that’s how you survived so long on your own all the times you ran away, and why your parents were reluctant to speak of your capabilities in front of a marine. You were practically an outlaw already, assuming you were as skilled with your weapon of choice as you were charming.

“I’m not looking for a fight tonight.” This is half true- he had come prepared of course, but now that he had met you… Well, he’d rather get to know you first.

“What?” he asks as you continue looking at him. No, not just looking- observing.

“Hm, sorry, I just- Well, usually my parents send marines to collect me.” You take a hand off your bow and seem to relax again.

“And you let them?” Zoro asks, surprised.

You shrug. “I go back with them or I end up on a wanted list for assaulting a marine. And I don’t think I’m ready to be a wanted criminal yet.”

This time, he’s the one observing you. Again. You’re just a teenager, really. The same age as him- but with none of the freedom.

“Then why do you keep running away if you know you’ll be caught?”

He can see the gears turning in your head as you look at him with surprise. Nobody has ever asked why you keep trying to leave, people usually assume you’re just rebellious.

“I…” you swallow thickly, suddenly nervous. You weren’t used to being known- or seen, rather- for who you truly are. “Well, I have a dream.” You say this with a raised chin, clearly more prideful about your aspirations than your noble upbringing.

“Yeah?… Me too.” his response makes you smile again.

“What’s your dream then, bounty hunter?”

Zoro thinks for a moment, then smirks and raises his chin as if he’s offering you a deal, “I’ll tell you next time we meet, and when you’ve gotten started on yours.”

Your face lights up once again in a smile. “Thank you.”

He nods, “Don’t mention it.” And with that, he turns and strides across the shore, going who knows where. You watch as he goes in the opposite direction from where he came, until he’s on the other side of the bonfire from you. The flame gives his already tan skin a warm glow, and reflects off all 3 of his earrings and swords.

You grin and laugh quietly to yourself- not because anything is funny, you’re just amazed. Despite the amount of money you knew your parents had probably promised him, he wasn’t going to try and make you go back. (Not that he necessarily could, either.) Instead, he’d respected your decision as someone else with a dream- and as his equal. How very noble.

“I hope we meet again!” You call after him, and he looks back briefly. He’s on the other side of the bonfire now, and it illuminates your face as you wave goodbye. Your eyes really are like stars; and the embers flitting off the fire dance around you like the flares on the sun.

“Hell,” he smirks to himself, “you’re a whole universe.”

He waves back silently, not quite knowing how to convey these sudden feelings for a near stranger, but hoping you understand that he also wants to see you again someday.

A few months later, Zoro would see your face on a bounty poster. There were no serious crimes listed, besides evading arrest and unlicensed use of a weapon, which made him chuckle. He thinks of you often; wondering if you’re following your dream now, and if it has anything to do with being an archer, or if you ever thought of him the way he did you. He really did want to see you again someday. For now though: he’d continue pursuing his dream to be the world’s greatest swordsman, and keep on with his “job” as a pirate/bounty hunter.

But your bounty? Well, he had no intentions of collecting it.

[sisterdivinium]

Genetic engineering, DNA modification, tested it on herself... Why would Jillian go through all this trouble? Adoption would be easier, surrogacy wouldn't be an issue for a woman with so much money, so why this devotion to medical science, to gene manipulation?

This doesn't seem very logical unless we take one step further in examining her characterisation as a sort of Virgin Mary character implied by her clothing and framing during season one: a man is never mentioned in connection to Michael's conception, either as donor or father... Possibly because Michael has no father. Jillian has made him up from scratch or, at least, using only her own genetic material.

This would surely equate to an awesome "medical marvel" and it would accomplish two additional things: first, it would account for just how sick Michael needs to be so that an extremely rare substance that doesn't even belong to this world can be his sole hope in surviving (the result of a miscalculation, an unforeseen mutated gene, some error in Jillian's design, the absence of something); and second, reproduction without the aid of man ("sinless", sexless) not only ties Jillian's character more closely to the theme of the holy mother, it also more strongly makes a Jesus figure out of Michael.

This is significant because it makes him into a designated saviour: Michael, too, "dies", crossing to "the other side" and later returning with the mission of saving humanity, which is the role he is sure he will play during all of season two. This story has been told before, the structure is the same and we all know it. He mirrors Christ in his being born of a woman untouched by man, in going beyond life and back, in being tasked by a higher power to act for others in his sacrifice. It is a destiny clearly written out for him, a classic narrative, a hero's journey neatly set up for Michael to accomplish and all he has to do is follow the script.

And yet, doing everything right, by the book, Michael ultimately fails.

If, according to all of the doubts awakened by the developments in Warrior Nun (is Adriel's realm not Heaven? Is he not an angel? Is Reya God? Is Jesus just as alien as Adriel? Etcetera), the Catholic church's teachings are all twisted, incomplete, when not simply ignorant of all that is true in spiritual, metaphysical matters, then this saviour narrative that constitutes the foundation of the institution itself is doomed — as well as whatever guidance it could supply.

I was discussing with @halobearerhavoc earlier about (among many other intriguing things) how myth informs the show and how it might predict Reya's fall, but also how that event would necessarily depart from how it plays out in the original myth. That is due to the fact that our protagonist here is Ava, a woman, and that this tiny little fact of sex alone forces a shift in how things are presented, in which values are prioritised, in how conflict is treated, escalated or resolved — this applies here as well.

Michael was the textbook redeemer, he was made for this, brought up by Reya with this explicit purpose and with the acquired conviction that he was the key to it all.

Ava, on the other hand, is a product of coincidence, of accident, of the unfathomable. She is already a rupture in tradition — dead and brought back, unknowingly, unwillingly the "usurper" of the halo, inserting herself in the line of bearers at random when she doesn't even seem to have any belief... Ava exists outside of tradition. To Michael's determined "Destiny", she is the one imbued with free will (it isn't out of guilt or duty that she returns to the Cat's Cradle, but through Mary's sympathy, through her own understanding and action). Ava is the unplanned factor, contrasted with Michael who was so planned that his life might have begun inside a Petri dish.

It isn't determinism that will save us, a mantle of glory woven by someone else wanting to place it upon our shoulders regardless of our own wishes; it isn't a decrepit institution or some despotic deity that will define us or what we do; it isn't the heavy, malodorous layers of ancient mould gathered over the endless tomes of Established Tradition or the carefully made calculations of arrogant scientists who think they can predict and explain and control everything.

Salvation cannot be through what Michael represents: an imposed duty, a stagnant, hackneyed story.

A story, we would do well to remember, which was already used to subjugate others, whatever its initial intentions might have been; Jillian certainly didn't predict what would be of her son and surely the primitive Christians didn't see into the future to understand what their devotion and their modes of its transmission would cause, yet it came to happen. The extermination of the Cathars, the persecution of pagans, the burning of "witches", the suppression of indigenous beliefs, activities and lives, to name but a few of the atrocities committed in the name of this one story...

So it cannot be Michael, embodying this narrative so well, that will bring about a fortunate ending to humanity's troubles.

Instead, salvation comes through Ava. She herself might be inhabited by a number of parallels with Christ, but she also carries freedom, an outsider's view which makes the inside so see-through, love, an ability to move outside of what had been previously set for her by someone else (one might even argue that these are the traits that made Christ before the story surrounding him came about)...

The walls built around her needn't contain her — and, phasing as she does, they do not.

Moreover, what would have been the real ending to Reya's plan, had it been followed exactly as it should have? The divinium bomb did hit Ava in the end, but wouldn't it have been worse had she not been interrupted in running up to Michael while he immobilised Adriel during the televised freak circus?

Ava's unpredictability, her impulse, her innate need to act with free will rather than constricted by what others dictate — Ava is the foil to fate itself, the foil to a structure, to a hierarchy that has been festering and rotting from the beginning of time, it should seem.

The hero of this story could only ever be her.

[the-nysh]

Trimax vol1: when our 'Hero Returns' and it's all fun n games til shit gets real meeting a very messy meaty moral dilemma, just what is Vash to do?!

Context: when Vash busts in guns blazing to stop a steamer siege + hostage situation between two warring factions of a city from escalating into a bloodbath. His purpose: to save lives and prevent any more deaths, fueled by his ongoing belief and sworn promise in Rem's memory to protect all those she sacrificed her life to save. Where it's smooth sailing til Vash encounters his most difficult roadblock: a grieving father who's dead-set on killing his daughter's murderer (ch6: 'Sin') A very painful but brilliant test challenging the extent of Vash's beliefs and how far he'll go to 'save.'

And why does this dilemma hurt so good? Because at that moment, with a flash of recognition stopping Vash dead in his tracks, he realizes all their pain and anger, driven into the need to enact justice for the death of a family member, is exactly the same. *record scratch* Oh shit...

"This bastard killed my daughter!" vs "That monster killed Rem!" The father taking matters into his own hands, wanting to personally punish [the sinner] to avenge his daughter, parallels Vash's thoughts (Trigun vol2) towards Knives for [the sins] of killing their mother Rem! :O

Where their shared pain, urgency, and justifications to send (him) to hell--down to even the very language used (that 'animal'/'monster') are no different. Even Vash's own words 'you stubborn old fool! Just who gave you the right to decide?' (who lives or dies) ironically come back to bite him hard. That Vash instantly realizes he has no 'higher moral' grounds to speak here... There's nothing he can say or judge the man for being driven by the same feelings to pick up a gun that've kept him alive for so long! So what can he do? How can Vash possibly interfere? Cause even Wolfwood knows how often those who'd never fight will take up arms for the sake of lost loved ones. So being confronted with this situation almost mirroring his own with Knives, does it make Vash reconsider his whole life's motivations thus far? Now that he sees just what it's like from the perspective of an outsider?? Ohhh what a mess!!

The sequence of him remembering back to Rem & Knives, weighing everything that's at stake full of inner conflict and hesitation, is brilliant as he slowly lowers his gun...

Cause if the weight of the killer's crimes bears any resemblance to Knives, then Vash concedes, almost dropping his head in regret and shame--cause he understands the father's difficult situation quite well! Having pointed his own gun towards Knives with the same intent before... Would stopping this man from enacting his revenge right now, invalidate all of Vash's feelings on his quest to punish Knives too?! hrgghhh....he can't do it. Even if allowing this 'exception'--this 'justified' death to happen before his eyes, clashes with his promise to Rem??

God, the sequence of Vash's expression internally warring with himself over what he should do...as the killer pathetically wails and pleads for his own life in increasing desperation, begging right in Vash's face for someone to come save him....urrrghh the pressure is SO hard, so difficult!!! ;o; Cause there's no easy 'right' answer here.

What makes this dilemma hurt even more, is how Wolfwood even warned him about tough situations like this beforehand. About the necessity of making quick, cruel, pragmatic choices in timely matters of life & death. Where if someone's bound to die in the equation, and if Vash keeps on inserting himself into it without choosing to save himself, then he must be prepared to take the hard route (the darker role) of killing someone else in exchange, if anyone is to be saved or make it out of this alive at all. As to him, it's humanly impossible to save everyone, so a tough decision must be made, or wallowing in indecision helps no one.

But the thing is...Vash isn't so naive or clueless (as Wolfwood thinks he is) that he needs to be lectured about matters of life & death. He knows; he's always been serious about that, saving people in his own way for longer than Wolfwood's been alive! And it's not just him recklessly jumping into the fray, fueled by only his promise to Rem without considering the repercussions of what he's doing; his resolve goes deeper than that. He personally understands the gravity of loss, so he's not about to coldly treat other people's lives so lightly like throwaway tools or equations to write off either--he's not about to let them die, so long as he can help it. But whether or not you consider this selfish of him to decide other people's right to live (with second chances) is another matter. He repeatedly chooses to get himself so involved because he knows if he stands by and does nothing at all to help then no one gets saved! He doesn't need Wolfwood to tell him that...

[So really, the crux of his moral dilemma doesn't really hinge on matters like 'killing is bad/wrong!' (as it seemed the 98 anime tried to portray here) or even on the grayer subjectivity whether the killer even deserves to live for his crimes - cause if Vash didn't agree or empathize with the father's pain (understanding his side, his choice), he'd have already shot him by now (in the shoulder or leg somewhere) to 'save' the killer, just as he warned beforehand: 'don't give me a reason to shoot you.' But since Vash realizes it's not his place to make that kind of judgement call, especially when it's too difficult to remain objective with clear 'absolutes' in cases like this when things turn complicated, he can't simply shoot anyone here either.]

So what else can he do? If he still wants to do things ~His Way~? In the end, what drives Vash to make a decision still comes down to that choice of inaction vs action (where walking away--as even Wolfwood insisted they do to save themselves from getting dragged in, is also an option), cause Vash knows that if he simply idles or gives up now without doing something in time, then no one gets saved--and THAT would betray himself the most.

And so...(he can't not do Something!)

(The way he already has tears in his eyes feeling ripped apart over this...)

"Don't you dare judge me by your high and mighty standards! What do you know about my pain?!" .......Oh what cruel irony, because that's the other thing--Vash does know. How much it hurts. :') He may not have lost a daughter but he does understand the pain of losing a mother to the point of aiming a gun enraged at the perpetrator all the same...he's not 'judging' the father for any of that either...

So all Vash can really do here....is hold the man's gun (in silent sympathy and understanding--he's not even forcing it away! just...holding it) as he bears the brunt of the father's venting anger and punishments upon himself. Taking a violent beating in place of the killer's [sins] *gasp* how very Christ-like...

In the end, the father is allowed to grieve and vent all his pain and frustrations without killing anyone--he is saved from becoming a cold-blooded killer. And Vash is saved from having to betray himself with the weight of a preventable death literally on his hands. A merciful but messy result still so full of pain unhealed on all sides, but no one died--everyone can walk away (in custody) to live another day, humbled and perhaps changed by the experience... (But who can say for sure? That's probably beyond anyone's power to know.) If anything, whatever 'faith' resonated between their shared pain, in a connection (or moment of regret? weakness? especially once the killer started begging for his own father to save him, ouch) that ultimately stayed the father's hand from pulling the trigger, Vash acknowledges it saved them both...

With this result, I feel the whole thing illustrates Nightow's message from his Comickers Art Style interview:

When life and death come into the picture, the story inevitably becomes heavy. …There is a conclusion I’ve come to while constantly confronting the story. In the end, I think people hurt and take lives because they don’t know enough about each other. If they knew each other well, the weight would be significantly different. …Vash ended up being portrayed as an existence that perceives [that] from the perspective of a crawling existence. (One who lives long, directly interacting among people and feeling the existence of the other party with his skin as he continues to wander.) …In the end, I think that knowing, conveying, and connecting with each other for everyone is a power that restrains various forms of violence. The word ‘family’ in Trigun contains that meaning. And in the end, the thing that pierces the heart the most when you understand others, is pain, isn’t it?

Where that's basically what happened: Vash choosing to intervene and connect (in understanding) through that human level of pain...ultimately restrained the killing blow. :') Even the Doc's relevant comment this chapter about how far Vash is willing to go, and get himself hurt, for the sake of saving those he considers 'family' (beyond blood)...I feel that means, if Vash could closely relate and see the father as fellow 'kin' through their shared pain...he went that far intent to save the father (rather than the life of the killer) from committing another terrible sin they'd both regret...it all feels connected to what Nightow wanted to convey...

I also wonder how much of this experience, connecting and empathizing with the father's situation here, affected Vash's future encounters with Knives, on whether he restrains the killing blow towards him the next time they meet as well.

And while I think Vash choosing the martyr approach to literally bear all the pain (and sins of humanity) directly on his skin wouldn't be sustainable if he were a regular human who'd probably be long dead by now--so the fact that he's not, makes a huge difference towards how long he can effectively keep this up. As his way becomes exceedingly difficult to sustain in the long run (so there's truth in Wolfwood's perspective as a human, knowing Vash's way to save can't always hope to work out--eventually somebody will have to die.)

But in the end, Wolfwood (who still thinks Vash naively looks at the world thru rose-colored glasses) cautioning him about needing to commit towards that hard choice (about killing somebody) one day, rings with the most foreboding feeling ever...(with as much 'subtle' foreshadowing as the panel of Wolfwood standing across from an open coffin this volume...Nightow please...)

[patty-propaganda-archive]

I have played just a bit of Astral Chain, and GOD does that game made my 'Hunter Patty with demon summons' thoughts come back with a force.

That game has basically the perfect setup/structure to insert her in and make Patty a formidable opponent, while also keeping her, you know, grounded and human. So I propose a shameless ripoff of gameplay mechanics and themes for her in a DMC-universe.

(these rambles are sponsored by my maybe two hours playtime of Astral Chain)

A quick intro about Astral Chain - it's a Platinum game that is set in a sci-fi universe which basically demons invade. Humans set up a special forces division that mixes some captured via Chains demons with human material, and the result are Legions that get paired with an operative and they work together.

Important note here is that the chained demons are exactly that - chained, and they aren't really happy with their predicament, so they try to escape if they aren't controlled properly. That said, they aren't mindless either, and can operate on their own, but are normally tightly ordered around and kept on a strong leash.

I think this setup in itself is very interesting - the humans are trying to fight fire with fire, while fully aware said flame might turn on them if used too freely.

Another thing I'd like to highlight is feel of combat in Astral Chain. The characters fight demons with guns and batons, which, well, doesn't exactly do much damage. The main damage dealer in this equation is, of course, the Legion under the human command.

You can do the normal button-mashy 'attack unless dodge then attack again', but really, in this game it feels like it pays to play Smarter, not Harder. The chain that binds demons is very physical, and with proper Legion positioning you can trip charging enemies or bind them in place for a time. This translates to me that the key is getting the upper hand in a fight, and no 'power level' or some other imaginary number will truly decide the outcome.

Last thing - the main character of the game is a sort of police officer, and they get a lot of requests to help civilians around. Even while on a big demon hunt, the priority for them is protecting humans, and getting to the big bad only after they are secure.

Why I think all of this works Perfectly Well for Patty:

The main premise of 'fighting fire with fire' is something the Order demonstrated quite well in DMC. They went so far in their studies as to develop stable technology based on demonic, and relatively safe enough for human use!

That said, Patty is no martial fighter. She is a human, and she physically cannot compete with demons, even easier ones. She needs as edge in a fight - this is where the idea of playing Smarter comes in.

I have been advocating for Patty getting a summons-based combat style, based of V(ergil) in dmc5, for a while now. I'll keep the design stuff under wraps, but I think that turning the demonic against demons seems very much up Patty's alley. Especially given her sourceress heritage, which, to be fair, we have no idea if it does anything, but hey, why not an ability to bind some demons to herself right? Or well, maybe some new demon-based tech helps her do that, but the technicalities don't really matter.

Plus, DMC demons already Do have a 'binding' ritual of sorts - the Devil Arms. Humans certainly can't wield those, so that's out of the question, but a simpler demon? Bound for a time even maybe? Not a bad substitute.

So, Patty gets herself a gun for long range, something close-range (rapier) for self-defence, and acquires a demon binded for herself.

Another idea I read a few times was Patty trying to get herself a position...close to the demon-hunting, but not the task itself, as she's not suited for continuous fighting. Something more about helping people, organising them and other supportive roles for when invasions happen.

Needless to say, I think that after how Dante disappeared on her, Patty would want to keep a Very Close ear to the ground about demons. She wouldn't be able to just stand aside either, so I think she'd volunteer to help there and then keep it up.

Having an ability to Bind demons would be a valuable ability in this situation, as her main focus would be on helping and defending civilians, instead of mowing down hordes on her own.

This can be up for debate, but I think the idea of demon binding being situational is more useful than getting a single demon bound permanently. Permanent binding would probably be harder to keep up, mostly in terms of mental/magical(?) effort, and I don't think Patty really needs that ability on all times. A spontaneous binding of a single demon out of the attack group though? More sudden, adaptable and, depending on the power of the demon chosen for binding - more cost-efficient, or at least you save up on the cost outside of fighting.

Another option is a 'pokemon' situation, when the binding requires energy only for the initial bind, but the upkeep is cost-free. So, she needs to change demons only when the bound one is too weak to fight anymore. Though I don't think that fits the other dmc demons rules, and the situational bind situation is better.

tldr Astral Chain gave me the perfect vision of Hunter-Patty, which is pretty much a ripoff of abilities from that game. It fits Patty very very well in my opinion though

So yeah, Astral Chain basically gave me a fully-realised Hunter-Patty fantasy, and I really love this mix of ideas for her. The game itself is also very fun, and I highly recommend everyone tries it out, if you can (curse you nintendo for holding it hostage). Thank you for reading this ramble)

[dear-kumari]

Getting my meanest criticism out of the way rn

Arthur I'm sorry that your parents died but did your childhood poem about mourning them have to be so long. Like it looks shorter in the transcript than it felt while listening to it, but 14 verses is still an awful lot. I like the adolescent amateur quality of it, that's fine and expected, but you can't be carrying around all 56 lines of that in your head along with the best of Robert Frost. Give John the abridged version, please, this is probably really awkward for him

Ep 20 is just so, so heavy on the cloying sentimentality between that and the cute animal death that I do think I nearly dropped the show because of it. I went from binge-listening to taking several weeks to get through it (though I resumed my binge immediately after). It's supposed to be the emotional culmination of their journey but came off as manipulative and contrived to the point of cringe. I hate to sound unfeeling, but the whole time I was like can you guys try to strategize about confronting the King instead of reciting eulogies and crying. Or strategize while crying, that's fine, just — something. Anything. The show is about their emotions, yes, but it's also ostensibly about surviving horrors and outwitting powerful forces. Kayne cuts the latter out of the equation almost entirely by handing Arthur the special object he needs for the climax and essentially telling him what to do with it. And then Arthur does it! He spends more brainpower puzzling out what he's supposed to do with the dagger than considering that maybe he shouldn't go along with the desires of the mass murderer he just met. He says the predetermined nature of their journey makes him feel powerless, but the only thing they try to do differently is head deeper into the city. Arthur is a defiant atheist whose big "fuck you" to an actual god is … to attempt to follow the advice of another, more powerful god, by slitting his own throat. Awesome.

This isn't even about the poem anymore but while I'm here, I don't like Kayne. He's not fun, he's not funny, he's not a particularly threatening villain and he fucking killed my little meow meow. The fandom take on him is basically Bill Cipher for adults, which is cool, but canon Kayne doesn't live up to the hype. His "carrot and stick" for Jorthur are too good and too bad, respectively, to be true, making it yet another case of raising the stakes way too high for the audience to truly care. He's also a trickster who straight-up lies rather than one who cleverly exploits loopholes, so it's not like it'll be that surprising when he doesn't honor his deal with them.

I mean, there is an actual kernel of genius in how Kayne is this kinda Christian-themed evil God (omniscient, daughter is "Lilith," jokingly answers to "Jesus Christ," encourages Arthur to listen to his Christian FIL and sacrifice himself) who is essentially offering the protagonists Heaven if they obey him or Hell if they fail. If Jorthur actually learn to see him as an abusive bullshitter with empty promises/threats of eternity ("this too shall pass" taken so far as to break the established eternal cosmic mythos RGU style), I will happily admit that that's a cool deconstruction of the existential dread at the heart of Lovecraft. I think they're just gonna luck into beating him with the Blackstone tho, or maybe he'll win bc he's the author self-insert and Jorthur will get their "happy" ending too, idk. Whatever happens, I don't think I'll stop finding him annoying. Just like that dumb orphan's shitty poetryyyy okay sorry I didn't know how to tie the post together after all that

[lunar-cerulean]

I should be asleep but I have been reading Over Heaven tonight and I was reading over the last of Dio basically saying he chose to impregnate/let go of wicked women he has been with because he equates wickedness to strong drive to victory and pursuit of happiness which is basically what Dio’s “heaven” is in concept.

IF NOT ALREADY OBVIOUS THIS INCLUDES MAJOR SPOILERS

I am making this whole text post and I am 99% certain no one will read this but at least I’ll have to here to reference back to one day.

Okay so in my AU Dio still has his heaven plan but it is vastly different in execution than the canon. Same concept, different solution sort of deal. So in the canon and in the novel (because novel goes off the canon) Dio needs to find this friend who puts the will of “god” (which would be him) above that of himself or others. How this friend would help him achieve heaven via his code for living, I haven’t read that far or drawn that conclusion. There’s the whole cryptic stuff of the fourteen words and over 36 souls of heinous sinners stuff. I do away with all that in my au, it’s a little more cut and paste and “logical”.

So the premise so far (and very likely bound to change) is Dio wants to achieve “heaven” as some sort of state of true happiness and evolution in power in which he can control fate, therefore eliminate any reason to have paranoia. Dio doesn’t have an exact means to above this, he just knows he is pursuing an end result. He is traveling and looking for a potential friend that would have the ability he needs for this, believing at times he is fated to “bring heaven” and will meet the person he needs to meet because of that whole gravity stuff.

On his travels, he listens to some local myths and legends and becomes curious, going to a village in the mountains (have not determined exact geographical location but within Europe), curious if this “monster tyrant” they talked about was a stand user or something. Cue Reyna (my self insert wahhh). She is a stone mask vampire like Dio, and not a stand user currently. She too like Dio wants to achieve something like his concept of “heaven”, something she thinks of as “paradise”. Whereas Dio’s “heaven” is more of a mental state of being, Reyna’s is quite literal as she literally wants to rebuild the entire system of how life works to be catered to her way of living. To any Christians or those who have read the Bible, you’ve probably heard of the terms “new heaven and new earth”. While completely unintentional, Dio and Reyna’s ideologies pairing is similar to this in a way, one being associated with the spiritual way of things and the other being physical.

Unlike most of Dio’s experiences, he doesn’t have easy influence over her. Reyna has been with other vampires before, she is well aware of charisma and manipulations and is naturally wary of Dio instead of enthralled. This comes as quite a shock to him. As I stated in opening paragraph, Dio values wicked people for their determination. This doesn’t explain much, but to explain why would need a whole post of his own because we would have to delve into his childhood and relationship between his parents which has lead him to this conclusion. Reading Over Heaven, it seems Dio did not pursue women for sex, they presented themselves to him and most of them were his food and he let some of them go… he did not keep any of them nor does it sound like he pursued any. Now we know Dio has a serious rizz game, he doesn’t even need to hypnotize most people. This is lost on Reyna initially, she doesn’t present herself to him. Dio sees her power, smarts, and is curious to know more about this mysterious vampire who thwarts him which leads to him pursuing her as an individual. Through being persistent and playing along with her, they are able to learn more about each other’s goals and Dio learns of her desire for more power, tempting her with the stand arrow in agreement for her to ally herself with him to pursue mutual goals. She agrees. After obtaining a stand, Reyna eventually moves to Cairo to work with Dio on their plans since achieving “heaven” (in this case securing the future and obtaining the power to rewrite fate) would also lead to “paradise” (recreation of the physical world). At first they live separately and would meet to discuss plans. The more Dio thinks about using Reyna, the more he realizes how he may achieve his heaven. Just as Pucci and Dio (honestly I have no idea what actually happened) had their stands come together and create MIH, in this AU, Dio considers the possibility of fusing his willpower with Reyna’s to create a stand stronger than both theirs combined, believing that this willpower could “will heaven” to be achieved. By this, Dio is thinking in less abstract terms like what happened in Stone Ocean… he’s thinking about impregnating her. This also leads to more thought because it’s not as simple as just getting her pregnant and sending her off to live life, he feels the need to groom this potential heir into the person he needs to “will heaven”. To create the “best” environment to groom his child into “greatness”, it would be ideal to collaborate with Reyna, especially because she would have beef with him if he didn’t stick to their alliance. Also because of Dio’s terrible childhood and relationship with his father, he is a little disturbed at the thought of having a child and being absent. Dio wants to be a good father but understand that his definitions of good are vastly different than definitive good.

And even if Reyna did cooperate and agree to get pregnant, there’s the whole “how” question to answer too because female vampires (by the logic of their universe) are infertile. Well… luckily for Reyna’s will power now manifested in her stand, her desire to bring about “paradise” and have her own children (to elaborate I would need a whole post on Reyna’s backstory 😭) was so strong it literally rewrote how her body works (“paradise” at small scale). So she is actually able to get pregnant, but neither she nor Dio know yet because they haven’t tried and yes up to this point they have had zero wahooing with each other. Eventually… this is something Dio does discuss with her, seeing as he cannot woo her with his looks alone, he may as well be straightforward and make her think she gets something out of it. Well.. they agree. They get down to business and this requires Reyna to be over a lot to the point she just eventually moves in and lives in Dio’s mansion now. After such relations, this is where the relationship could very likely get more complicated, however I like to leave things ambiguous to the readers, more like I’m observing Dio and Reyna instead of defining their relationship. For certain though, after consummating this new aspect of their alliance, Dio has undoubtedly become more possessive of her. As said in first paragraph, Dio did not pursue but was pursued, and thus didn’t care or keep any of those women. This is different. Dio pursued Reyna and probably because he made the choice to pursue, he wants to keep her. Now for what reasons, it could be many. He is invested into her just as he is invested into Pucci (Pucci still has a role in this AU of mine but not as big as the canon).

Once Reyna gets pregnant this also makes their dynamic develop more. Dio becomes even more possessive. He eventually doesn’t even let her leave the mansion anymore, and either directly or indirectly serves her wishes. He now has to take care of her now that he has made her dependent on him. As she grows deeper into pregnancy, Dio actually keeps Reyna with him in his room when they sleep to monitor her, seeing as she does get sick. Whether he actually cares for her or just cares for his precious cargo I leave ambiguous for you to determine (and I personally like to believe it’s a mixture of both). Regardless, he becomes accustomed to her presence and comes to expect it. He doesn’t get rid of her, he has chosen to keep her. And for her own agenda and reasons, Reyna allows it.

If you read this I super appreciate it. Please please please give me any feedback, criticism is welcome too. I just hope you guys think the concept is within reason and also a cute premise. I want to stay true to Dio’s character for the most part and find a way to write a partnership without it going into the deep end of out of character stuff.

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[tangyangie]

» LOVE SONG ♪

character(s): spencer reid (insert nerd emoji)

genre(s): fluffier than that one cheesecake recipe

description: f!reader, established relationship, i stole this idea from a tv show you don’t know

notes: here you go you little eggshell (this is aimed)

im never posting this (maybe for valentines idk)

god this is so long

“valentines is coming up, loverboy.”

“how’s your gift to your little y/n-poo coming along??”

“stop teasing me, you guys.” reid sighed, overwhelmed by his indecisiveness to choose a gift for you.

penelope and derek acted like kindergarteners with a friend who had a crush, kicking their legs and giggling. “oh, i know!” penelope exclaimed. “you should bake her a pie with all the numbers of pi on it!”

“you’re so creative.” spencer deadpanned.

“ooh, i have a better idea!” derek chimed in. “you should write her a letter with that one heart graph equation on it.”

“why is that one so horrible?!” spencer complained. “you know what, never mind. i’ll figure it out myself.” he sighed, trudging out of the office. “good night, everyone.”

»»»

“hey, spence! i’m home.”

quickly putting away his computer, he rushed to the door to greet you.

“hey. how was work?” he asked, smiling at you as he took your things and set them down, allowing you to stretch and walk to your bedroom.

“exhausting. how about you?” you laughed.

“about the same.” he stated, doing his best to shield your valentine’s day gift from you.

“…spencer, you’ve never been good at hide and seek.” you giggled.

“how did you-“

“doesn’t take a profiler to read someone like a book, love.”

“actually, studies show-“

“shush. what is that?” you questioned.

“huh? it’s nothing, don’t worry. it’s not important. nothing special.”

“i didn’t even suggest that it was something special, yet you just denied it was twice. now… at least a hint?”

“no, y/n! i can’t tell you yet!” he laughed, attempted to conceal the pile of papers behind he back, you trying to slither around him to steal a glimpse of at least one.

“oh, i see.” you giggled. “is this for the certain holiday that’s coming up on the 14th of this month?”

“possibly?”

“alright, i’ll leave you alone… for now.”

sighing, he waited for you to walk out of the bedroom. he turned his back, stacking the papers together to put them somewhere you wouldn’t find it.

“by the way, your gift is ready.” you smiled, popping your head in the doorway.

smiling, he walked over to you and pressed a kiss to your forehead, ruffling your hair. “thank you, y/n.”

»»»

“you’re doing what??” penelope gaped.

derek was laughing so hard, he swore he was going to fall right there and be sucked into the floor and attacked by carpet particles.

“did you listen to a word we said, reid??” penelope was in disbelief.

derek continued wheezing.

“i get it, morgan!” spencer exclaimed.

“y/n isn’t going to fall for the genius-y stuff, reid!! i’ve seen her enough to know she wants something from the heart, not your huge head.”

“a mathematically.. perfect.. song??” derek managed to squeeze between laughs.

“it’s not that bad of an idea!” spencer argued.

“yes, it is!” emily chimed in.

“you too??” spencer whined.

“if you’re gonna write her a song, you need to tell her what you actually feel. and please, please, please, don’t mention her ass.” penelope said with a frustrated look.

the more the group stayed on this topic, the harder it would become for morgan to even attempt to calm down.

the rest of the day, spencer tried to figure out something else. something where math or “genius-y stuff”, as penelope said, wouldn’t come into the equation.

maybe he would have to come up with it all by himself.

»»»

“this is stupid.” he sighed, throwing away yet another piece of paper with seemingly meaningless lyrics.

“aww, what’s wrong, spence?” emily asked, noticing the very audible ‘this is stupid’ from across the room.

“nothing, everything’s fine.”

“are you still writing that song for y/n?”

“..not the same one, but still a song, yes.”

“ooh, are those original lyrics?? if you’re a genius in everything else, you must at least be a lyrical genius as well!” emily scampered over, eager to take a look.

“wait-!”

emily snatched the papers before spencer could react. “aww, spence!! these are so cute!! y/n’s gonna love this!”

“the song’s not finished, and the lyrics aren’t good,”

“they’re amazing, reid! i’m sure y/n will spin in circles when she hears this.”

“i barely have the melody! what makes you guys think i can finish a whole song in less than a week?”

“we can always help,” penelope joined in, looking as though hearts were going to start pouring out of her eyes.

"i thought it was supposed to be from my heart, not your heart." reid joked.

"hey, you were the one who was complaining about how long it was going to take. besides, the lyrics are all yours, we can just help with the actual music." derek suggested.

"besides, no matter how many PhDs you have, it's a little difficult to play 10 instruments at once and have it in time with everything else." emily poked.

"fine, i'm convinced. just don't embarrass me."

»»»

“i don’t think i’ve ever had a work day more exhausting than that.” emily sighed, out of breath.

“i agree. reid, why did you need to make the chorus so long??” penelope chimed in.

“it’s not my fault you volunteered to help.” spencer huffed.

“well, now that we’re finished, how about we go eat and go home?” derek got up from the slumping position on the table.

everyone agreed, so they all enjoyed dinner and drinks at a small restaurant, while brainstorming more ideas of what spencer could do for valentine’s day.

“don’t you guys also need to focus on your own valentine’s day??” spencer rolled his eyes.

“there’s plenty of time for that. now, i think you should get y/n a giant, fluffy, huge cake that says-“

»»»

“so, today’s the day, loverboy.”

“are you going to give it to her?”

“have you hinted it to her at all?”

reid’s head was collapsed on his desk, overwhelmed by the thoughts that you might not like your gift.

“what if i edited something wrong?” spencer started questioning. “what if there’s something in the background??”

“reid, you’re literally a genius. you would’ve known if there’s something wrong.” emily laughed.

“but, what if-“

“shh! reid, even if the song is so atrocious that she’d throw up, she still loves you so much that she’d probably listen to it millions of times if you asked her to!” penelope argued.

“no, she’s very particular about her music taste.”

“but she’s also particular about you!”

“but-“

“listen. you’re gonna go and give the song to her and she’s going to love it, and she’ll kiss you as many times there are notes.”

“but-“

“shut up!”

“...”

»»»

you returned home from work, excited to give spencer his gift. or, more specifically, take him to his gift.

“hey, spence,” you sang. “ready for your gift?”

“one second, y/n!” he shouted lightly from the other side of the house.

“what’s going on in here?” you smiled, stepping past the threshold into the dimly lit room.

“y/n!” spencer jumped. “i’m..”

“is this… a cassette tape?” you asked, sliding next to him.

“…yes.”

“for me?”

silently, you slid your fingers to his hand.

“..yes.” he whispered. “it’s not..”

he struggled to find the words.

“..finished?”

“no, it’s finished, it’s just…”

you leaned into his side. “show me, spence,” you hushed. “i’m sure it’s not that bad.” you joked.

“that’s rude,” he said, smiling, he tentatively pressed the play button.

»»»

“spencer, it’s-“

“i know, it’s bad. it sucks, i’m aware.” he groaned, his head in his hands.

“no!!” you laughed. “spencer, it’s beautiful! you made a whole song for me??”

turning back around, he looked relieved. “i..” he spoke, not knowing how to react.

you stepped over to him, grabbed his hands, and said, “spence, thank you. i love it.” you smiled.

“y/n-”

“shush.” you whispered, brushing your lips against his, before finally connecting them.

slightly breathing in, you could feel spencer’s chest slightly relax. you interlocked your fingers with his, reaching one hand to cup his face.

slowly rocking, he wrapped his arms around you, slowly bringing you closer and breathing in your scent.

“alright, alright,” you say, breaking apart. “now, get ready for your gift. how do you feel about dinner?”

oh my god.

that’s the longest thing i’ve ever written

not even for english class have i written something that’s longer than that

side note i just found out matthew gray gubler plays simon in alvin and the chipmunks 😭😭

[goetzjpvis]

Heart of Thomas was one of the most convoluted plots I had the simultaneous pleasure and displeasure of following, and I did NOT expect it to be during the "Yaoi" section of class!?

Aside from reading and rereading multiple sections, and checking the wiki, what I can gather is that Heart of Thomas effectively serves as a contemporary Boys Love (BL) piece, but it honestly felt like much more than that! It felt like a drama, a whodunit (in a sense, we have to ponder what circumstances led to Thomas committing suicide), littered with themes of grief and moving on from abuse (we can see this in the latter half of the manga in which there are multiple metaphors equating Juli to a fallen angel).

I often felt like the romance was more of a subplot than a genre, but I suppose the sheer amount of separate romances helps solidify Heart of Thomas as a BL, and at times its shoehorns felt awkward inserted into the plot. However, I also think that the author did a wonderful job with its placement in the sense that the story did not feel like a work of fetish art but passive appreciation for queer storytelling? I guess? I don't really know. This kind of stuff alludes me. But my main point is that the romance was very natural, and it felt like a normal drama except in which "gay is the norm".

This weeks reading for class was SUPER LONG and there was a lot to get from it, but the two facts I found the most surprising is what "Yaoi" really meant to its readers: "no climax, no fall, no meaning", which kind of implies a plotless, fetish-centered story that Heart of Thomas certainly was NOT. I wouldn't call this yaoi though because there was definitely purpose and delicacy with the way the plot and its themes were handles. Yaoi is like porn, and BL is not all porn. Also, i found the large amount of lesbians consuming this content ironic as well, especially since they are.... women that love women..... how do men fit into the equation lol (Maybe it's framing of men in a romantic aspect? There are many reasons why one could be into this, though).

Anyways, Juli and Eirch need therapy, half the teachers at the school need to be fired, and Oskar needs to half a LONG talk with that one little boy about consent. God!!!

[welcometomybraincomics]

Ahaha I'm finally active on a platform while I'm being inspired, so you get to see the whack ass away my brain takes inspiration from things and ends up with something that's only tangentially related LMAO

----

OK so ✨inspiration✨ (speed bump by dratchetismyjam) has the Goofy Road Trip machine going brr. What if, during their travels, Sam discovers that a majority of organics in the universe do not run on electricity? Most, if not all, animals on Earth have internal electrical functions: nerves and muscles and all that. because what's more alien than one of the basic functions not functioning the same at all?

And for Sam, Rita, and Carlo being extremely confused Something happens to bring that up. primarily, i'm thinking something along lines of Sam needing to be resuscitated for some reason, and Carlo going in with the electrical paddles and someone starts screaming because "that's not how organic biology works" and "ohh my god they're really going to kill them!" And then Sam gets up and is fine afterwards.

The alternative route is some communication barrier due to the way nurture influences logic. Like, humans equate a lot of the stuff in our own biology to machines because it's easier to understand then the complex chemical and electrical and whatever else systems we actually have running in us, So Sam has an easier time understanding Cybertronians than most of the organics. this comes out in either a casual conversation or something where some sort of logic is being applied where Sam makes a reference to how human anatomy functions and whatever organic they're talking to being extremely confused because "Um, no? that's not how it works." Sort of like [Insert humans are space orcs audio where humans and an alien species interact and are sort of negotiating trade and crossing over their research and their electrical engineers, when talking to each other realize that humans automatically move stuff without having to think about every single little detail, leading to less compact ships with lower efficiency, while the aliens do have to think about every single breath each movement that they make, how often they blink, et cetera, leading their ships to all be interconnected and also leaves them in the blind spot of not making generic parts that can just be swapped for each other; It's an HFY (humanity fuck yeah) or humans are space orc piece and I can't find it😭]

[waheelawhisperer]

Okay lads and lasses, time for me to share my thoughts on Volume 9 of RWBY's 9th episode. Just this one and the finale left to go and I will finally be done.

Content warning for this post and episode: suicide.

So far the writers have killed two members of Team RWBY and replaced them with facsimiles meant to imitate their former selves and had another one kill herself on-screen while her teammates stood and watched. Before we begin, let's pour one out for Yang and Blake, cruelly struck down before their time and replaced with Yikes and Boring.

No content warning this time. Hopefully that's a good sign, but with this show and company, who even knows?

So I guess that’s Summer reading a bedtime story to Yikes and Ruby

At least we know what her voice sounds like now. I’m assuming the fact that she has an actual model and VA means she’ll be somewhat relevant in the last two episodes of the Volume and possibly going forward

Lmao Yikes and Ruby have bigass heads did they just stick their adult heads on child models or something

Jaune: “I don’t understand”

That’s nothing new for you buddy, being clueless has kind of been your gimmick for a while now

Great the paper people are back except now they’re fucking rocks

You’re not winning a rock paper scissors game like this guys

White Knight shippers are feasting this Volume god damn

Oh goodie everyone’s hugging Jaune

Why does Yikes have a big fucking grin on her face when her sister just fucking killed herself

It’s like the writers saw the people saying “Yang doesn’t care about Ruby” and thought “Wow that is a fantastic idea let’s use that”

If there was anything left of the character we once knew as Yang after last episode, it's gone now

No but seriously why did we go from Ruby drinking suicide tea while everyone stood there and stared to nobody being allowed to grieve openly to everybody being happy and huggy and comforting FUCKING JAUNE

Seriously Miles you're still not beating the self-insert allegations here can we please go for one fucking Volume without the character you voice upstaging everyone who actually matters

When this episode first aired, I saw people saying that we needed a scene where the characters actually got to fucking respond to Ruby killing herself in front of them, which really stuck with me because it was one of the rare instances of even diehard fans being critical of the show. When the cult members start questioning things instead of making excuses for them, that’s when you know you’ve fucked up.

Anyway I agree that having a scene where the characters actually got to process Ruby’s death instead of instantly running for the Tree and finding the gem people so everything could be about Jaune again would’ve helped smooth this storyline out a bit. The “suicide is an improvement, actually” aspects of it still make the premise fundamentally shit but they could’ve executed on the fundamentally-shit premise better here.

This scene is cute out of context honestly but in-context it blows

I think they’re trying to convey that seeing the gem people is supposed to be a source of hope – the gem people came back “better” after Ascension – but that doesn’t really work for me when the show has been hammering in the message that Ascension takes away who you are. Some core remains, but the memories are gone and you become something new. What Jaune and WBY know right now is that anything that comes out of the Tree won’t be the Ruby Rose they knew. By the rules the show has established thus far, Ruby is dead. Ruby wanted to be dead. Ruby said she didn’t want to be Ruby Rose anymore and took steps to make that happen. Neo gave her the tea thinking it would erase her from existence. Neo made an effort (successfully) to break Ruby to the point where she wanted to be erased from existence. Ruby drank the tea assuming it would erase her from existence. The show has equated going to the Tree with, at minimum, a death of personality throughout the season. Ruby. Fucking. Killed. Herself. She wanted to die.

I know this show is going to cop the hell out because it would never ever have the balls to actually grapple with the ramifications of the main character offing herself but God am I not looking forward to seeing it

Like I don't see a way the narrative can spin this choice without either killing off the main character for realsies (they won't, they'd never have the nuts for that) or presenting suicide as a solution to your problems.

Anyway as soon as you accept that suicide is the solution you can warp to the Tree I guess

Finally Yikes shows some reaction to her sister’s death

The message here is apparently “accept it when people close to you kill themselves, this is totally fine actually”

“We’ve done everything we can” like what, Weiss? Ignore her pain all Volume and then stand there and stare for 20 seconds while she drank poison in front of you?

You don’t have to welcome shit, Weiss. Your friend/sister/teammate or whatever the hell she is to you at this point just killed herself. You don’t actually have to be happy with that. Fuck this Volume for insisting you do.

Great question, Yikes. At least someone is acknowledging the implications here.

It's fine, Boring will soothe away your tears and the shippers will go wild

Blacksmith lady’s back again. Is that Little’s mask she’s shaping?

The cop-out’s already starting. Wonderful.

Well we finally found the way back home (maybe). At least this shitshow is almost over.

The Curious Cat is definitely a cat. Beefing it in front of others and then pretending nothing happened and you meant to do it all along is, in fact, peak cat behavior.

Throw some shade, Weiss.

Oh, so the Cat tried to use Alyx to get to Remnant somehow.

So all this time we’ve been thinking Alyx sacrificed Lewis, but instead she may have sacrificed herself

If the Cat’s telling the truth, that means Lewis wrote the book and portrayed Alyx as a hero and erased any mention of himself

The Cat’s implying they killed Alyx, but I wonder how true that is

Anchor Arms Neo is so funny to me

Looks like Cat-Neo is going to be the final boss

Lmao the fucking zombie Rubies this shit is too funny

I cannot take Cat-Neo seriously as a threat at this point

Oh that was fucking cruel poor Jaune is getting torn apart this Volume

Just stomp on his trauma why don’t you lmao

Weiss adds insult to injury by blasting him off the Tree, but sadly most likely not out of the narrative

Ruby found Summer’s weapon. Guess we’re getting Summer info next episode.

This episode felt more like the first part of Episode 10 than an actual episode in its own right not gonna lie

The first half was shit and the second half was forgettable, reversing the trend of the last couple episodes

Overall rating: BLOWS A BAG OF DICKS/10

[cravingsfromatwistedone]

I just noticed your carrd says dni if you support Asian hate but where’s dni if you support blm hate/hate blm supporters oh yeah that’s right your racist anti black ass hate anything that got to do with blk ppl from characters to them having fun making edits you don’t need help you need to go to hell and keep blk ppl out ya mouth

Look.

If you're the same person who sent me that other ask that's filled with death threats regarding the DNI in my carrd if you support asian hate, blackwashing/whitewashing/racewashing, get a life and stop harassing people for it

I'll admit that I should have been more CLEARER in DNI and I'll change it soon so that people won't misunderstand anymore about it

Personally, for me, I'm actually fine with people making black edits of their favourite characters whatsoever. Or how some people like to change up the character's outlook appearance to their own preferences or ideation. To some, black editing is a way for black people/artists to have representation in media and I, 100%, fully respect that because even though I'm not a black person myself; I can see that there's a distinctive lack of black representation in all sorts of media. Whether it's an anime, a series of sort, film, etc etc. That's what I'm perfectly fine with

The thing I'm not perfectly fine with are the ones who actively try to shove it down your throat and force you to accept it. I've got my fair share of seeing people who does black editing but they act like they're more superior than others. The ones who put " [insert character name] is much more better off being black <3, if you don't like it, might as well kys " in their caption or how they go into the comment section under the artwork of a dark skinned character writing out " um, [ insert dark skinned character ] is actually black/blasian so the way you're portraying them is wrong :/ "

THOSE are the kinds that I do not want to interact with.

Having dark skin doesn't automatically make someone a black/blasian person and this also applies to having fair/white skin doesn't automatically make someone white person either. It sickens me to often see these kinds of people pitting with one another on which race (black people and white people) is better than the other so I, on the other hand, would rather NOT get involved with ANY of that thus I placed "DNI if you support asian hate, Blackwashing/Whitewashing/Racewashing" in my carrd

In short, I'm alright with people who support/make black editing on characters. As long as they don't try to enforce it on me.

And for god's sake, try to have a different mindset. Just because someone does not like a certain thing that certain/most black people do which is black editing doesn't equate to them fucking hate black people. If you think that I'm racist, wouldn't that make me a hypocrite for liking Leona and Jack from Twisted Wonderland to which they're also dark skinned??? And that they're also based on African origins (The Lion King is set in Africa but is also loosely based on Kenya and Tanzania) ???