#or some of the translators had some biases of their own

[lintillaarchaeologist]

This is mostly but not entirely true: actually he didn’t write the poem. It is a shortened poetic and translated version of a confessional speech.

The quoted version is the American version. The British version (https://www.hmd.org.uk/resource/first-they-came-by-pastor-martin-niemoller/) is almost identical, but is three lines longer. It goes

First they came for the Communists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Communist

Then they came for the Socialists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Socialist

Then they came for the trade unionists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a trade unionist

Then they came for the Jews

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Jew

Then they came for me

And there was no one left

To speak out for me

Wikipedia has a partial translation of the original speech, as well as this interesting quote from Niemöller himself which seems to imply that the British version is more accurate.

So the obvious question here: why didn’t the American version mention the communists?

Additional question to ponder: the nazis also, rather famously, came for the disabled, transgender people, the romani, the gays, etc. long before they came for Niemöller, why aren’t these groups mentioned?

[metamorphesque]

who is Vahan Teryan?

Vahan Teryan (1885-1920) was a prominent Armenian poet, lyricist and public activist. He’s an exceptional figure in the history of 20th-century Armenian poetry. He revolutionized artistic thinking, bringing a new worldview, a new pictorial system, a new literary language and an entirely new art of harmonious versification. He introduced boundless subtlety and musicality to poetry and gave literature a completely new life. Teryan was also a great patriot and, as a political figure, did everything for the welfare of Armenia, often even risking his own safety.

As a poet, he was simply a magician. Quoting the renowned Armenian writer Stepan Zoryan, "Vahan Teryan was one of those fortunate authors who wake up one morning famous, and not by chance, but thanks to their great talent. A Teryan period, a Teryan era had simply begun. The air was filled with Teryan; everywhere, young people talked about his poems, and the heartfelt gift friends and lovers gave each other was 'The Twilight Dreams.' [Teryan’s first published poetry collection] Vahan Teryan was entirely different; he descended into the public eye as a master. After that book, they didn’t call him a 'beginner' or condescendingly a 'young writer,' but simply a poet, because he truly was a poet 'by the will of God.'"

It's hard to find an Armenian girl or woman who hasn't been in love with Teryan at least once in her life.

To me, he’s all the forces of nature combined in one. However, I am totally biased for he is (dare I say it?) my favorite Armenian poet.

If you're interested in reading his poetry, here are my attempts at translating some of it.

[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

Mirror: The Fiction and Essays of Kōda Aya translated by Ann Sherif

The papers in those days always had some amazing news in them - from the attempted military coup of February the year before to the start of fighting in China just three months later. A ferocious gale had come sweeping through, causing small whirlwinds some days and, at other times, a tremendous commotion that stirred up everything, even the dust in the forgotten corners of the world. I was just a speck of dust in one of the narrowest, most remote niches. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

A kimono worn by a woman immature in her emotions can be a powerful thing. Or, to put it another way, clothes have the strength to control one's psyche. To me, the striped outfit was a uniform; it gave me a sense of direction and a feeling of pride in my work. The apron shielded me from all arrows; it acted as a cast to brace me against all blows. It was a metal fire door behind which I could hide the anguish of my heart. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

What other child would fail to rise to the occasion when her father was being so honored? He was my only father, and I his only child. Is this any way to behave? I had lost my way at the bottom of a deep abyss. I cast my eyes upward, toward my father, only to see him dimly shrouded by mist. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

I know nothing about the breadth of my father's learning, nor do I pretend to understand the scope of his art. I could not tell you what came to him as a matter of luck, what he accomplished through his own talents, nor about his stature among men. Though I may be vastly ignorant, I do have enough sense not to entertain the foolish notion that he is some kind of lion of literature, a king among writers. He was just my father. From my own biased viewpoint, I would say that Father possessed some lionlike qualities, but there were those of a lion who would finish you off or give you the push-off-the-cliff test. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

Father was an unusual man. He would point out the beauty of blossoms or clouds in the sky with the very whip he had cracked a moment before. With the same knife he had just used to rive your innards, he would slice up a wedge of some delicacy for you. No one else I knew could perform such feats. There was something solid about him. I felt all at once like a contrite sinner and a puppy dog who is eager to please. I wanted to cut all ties with him, but at the same time I needed him to recognize me as worthy of his love. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

Higuchi Ichiyo's nephew Higuchi Etsu once said about [me and my father]: "The parent dons a medal, and the child an apron." I made a show of laughing at his comment, but only because I wanted to hide my weakness. In fact, that apron chafed against my hands and my heart with its unyielding roughness. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

One often hears about the magical powers of mirrors. Certainly the mirror's ability to reflect creates this feeling of mystery. The objects around the viewer look so different in the mirror - what was one may multiply into two or even three. Objects that had appeared to be piled up come apart. Something might look real in the mirror, but then when you try to touch it, you can't. It seems to be there but it makes no sound. Is it real or just an illusion? Sometimes you can see through things in a mirror. Some things seem actually to be alive inside the mirror, but once the reflection stops moving, the illusion of life is gone. The mirror's power resides in this ability to confound. - Kōda Aya, "A Friend for Life"

My life was not going smoothly. I could not handle the problems that confronted me and became unbelievably nervous and stubborn. At times, any little thing would set me off in a rage; often I would get upset and break down in tears. I had so many things on my mind. In those days I consoled myself by leaning up against my mirror. To think how proud I had felt of it on my wedding day. Now all I could do was crouch up against it and sigh. In that house it was the only place where I felt calm. The mirror served more as a support for my emotions than as a glass in which I could see my reflection. The sunny location I had chosen for it had been part of my effort to avoid sadness and gloom in my life, but ironically it ended up lodging a darkened, tired soul. I did, in any case, feel most peaceful when I sat by my mirror. - Kōda Aya, "A Friend for Life"

The first time I wiped the glass, I was shocked to discover how dirty a mirror can become. One usually does not notice the dust; a mirror will reflect even when covered with a heavy layer of grime. And once you get used to this, you may end up looking at yourself and trying to make yourself presentable with powder and lipstick, unaware that you are seeing yourself through a haze. But who bothers to dust mirrors? If even smoothly polished glass attracts dust how much more would accumulate on a troubled heart? - Kōda Aya, "A Friend for Life"

Kōda Aya has also been added to the BSD-Bibliophile Online Library!

You can find more information about Kōda Aya-sensei on the following pages:

List of Books in English Quotes and Facts Collection Fun Facts

[interlunium-opus]

► TEMPESTUOUS DESIRES [Jake.]

Abstract: For a messenger of love who effortlessly intertwines hearts, Jake himself remains untouched by the desires he kindles. This wasn’t a problem until he met you. Being disinterested in love and somehow always able to evade his shots, you soon became the object of his fixation but those very pure intentions to find you a good match soon gave way to obsession and temptations. As his golden arrows can’t be used to bewitch you to him, he ended up delving further into darkness where the lines between love and obsessions becomes blurred, corrupted by the insatiable need to own and possess you for himself. As he spirals down this treacherous path, he becomes entangled in a web of deception and manipulation, forsaking his once noble purpose.

Genre: fantasy | forbidden romance | supernatural | mythology | wc: 13k

a/n: inspired by New Jeans “Cool With You”. This has been marinating in the drafts for who-knows-how-long now. My brain can't shut up so here it is finally. Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing it. Do leave me some feedbacks or comments, it keeps me from sliding back to hiatus and descend down the writer's block hellhole lol.

© 2024 interlunium-opus. All rights reserved. Do not plagiarize, post or translate anywhere.

— i.

Figuratively and literally, Jake leaves trail of attraction and desire in his wake. As a messenger of love with unparalleled mental acuity and formidable archery skills, every arrow he draws from his quiver meet its target with unerring accuracy, ensnaring the unsuspecting victim with someone who is best matched, trapping them in a web of attraction and desires that would last the test of time. But it is not just his archery that captivates; Jake's ethereal presence, striking good looks, and flirtatious nature are a force of nature in their own right — captivating both humans and non-humans, leaving trails of attractions, desires and temptations in his wake.

He would have made the perfect Messenger of Love — one who is poised to go down in history. After all, the prevailing modern mindset which glorifies individualism and instant gratification has put lasting love in the backseat, making the job harder for the other Messengers of Love who could only strike attraction and lusts that lasts for one night. Hence, with every union that Jake successfully brought, he had become somewhat of a legend — someone with an innate, perhaps unlearnable, understanding of what makes love lasts.

Except, the truth is not as rosy. 

While beings like him are capable of feeling the emotions and desires that humans feel, Jake himself remains untouched by the all-consuming desires he sparks in others. His mental acuity helped him understood the mechanics of love — an intricate dance of personalities and the delicate balance of emotions — but the feeling itself eludes him. While he used to see it as a flaw when he was young, he now understood that it was this very detachment that grants him an edge in the field. Unburdened by personal biases or the clouding of intense emotions, Jake is able to navigate around with a clear and calculated mindset that allows him to dissect the intricacies of human nature, identifying the traits and compatibilities that foster enduring connections. 

Such mental acumen however, while providing him with a detached understanding, fails to bridge the gap between intellectual knowledge and the visceral experience of love’s consuming fire. In fact, despite all the flirtatious banter, sweet nothings and passionate touches he is capable of engaging and eliciting — his feelings remain only surface deep, that of attraction and lust which dissipates as soon as his conquests are bedded.

Perhaps it is exactly this lack of attachment that fuels his libertine tendencies — one that has been increasingly trangressed boundaries as he sought to not just bed his own kind but also humans, despite such liaisons being frowned upon. Perhaps the excitement and thrill of forbidden liasons is what he revelled in or perhaps, without him realising, he was seeking to fill in the void within himself which grows with each connection he forged.

Regardless. Tonight, was one of those days.

Assuming his human form — which is similar to his usual form except for the lip ring, gigantic wings and laurel wreath — he crashed into an after-party of a prestigious award ceremony, eyes immediately set on the apple of everyone’s eyes: the current IT girl of the industry whose looks could rival those from his realm. She was like a vision of ethereal beauty. Her doe-like eyes were large and expressive, capable of softening the hardest of hearts; her lips was full and luscious — both innocent and tantalizing — inviting unspoken desires; her slender frame, with its graceful lines and subtle curves, captured the essence of feminity, evoking not just attraction but a sense of protectiveness.

Jake smirked as his mind parsed her life history and pieced out the kind of person she was, finding his competitiveness instantly triggered the moment he learned of her iron-clad discipline and control when it comes to romance. As a young woman in a competitive industry that is still plagued with double standards against women, she knew her success stands at a precipice so despite all the love interests showered towards her over the years – she managed to stave them off, no matter how tempting. She had it all under control and she was poised for greater things given her diligence and discipline. 

But then she met Jake’s eyes and for the first time in her life, she felt her guards threatening to crack especially at the weight of Jake’s unflinching and seductive gaze throughout the night. Jake didn’t even need his poisoned arrows for he, himself, was almost like the poison that is laced over his arrow tips — the very object of desire for almost anyone he decides to charm. 

The next thing you knew, they were already locking lips in the hallway, the act of which quickly escalated as they moved to the van, hands absolutely glued to one another, roaming freely and wildly, before it all culminated in throes of passion that lasted for hours on her bed — a place she vowed never to bring a man over. Like the torn designers over the floor, all traces of controlled perfection she had masterfully maintained over the years crumbled under the weight of Jake’s intoxicating touch and seductive sweet-nothings. She was absolutely moonstruck and Jake did not even need his arrows for it.  

“You’re going to have to call in sick tomorrow if this goes on-” Jake mumbled in between the soft kisses that he trails down her neck as she whimpered his name again and again, delirious in pleasure while begging him not to ever let go, promising him absolutely everything — from her money to her career.

“Look at the industry sweetheart,” Jake cooed, eyes adoring what he had made out of her: a whimpering and clingy mess that is completely seized in desires and lust, “what would they say if they see you like this?”

She shook her head, breathing ragged from the umpteenth high she had raked with Jake, before pulling him into a hungry and messy kiss. “Love,” Jake mumbled in between kisses, saliva stretching between their lips, “you’re tired. It’s time to go to sleep.”

“You’re not going to leave me right?” she stared at him all bleary-eyed. Jake simply smiled, rubbing her cheeks softly as she tried hard to keep her lids open against the enchantments that Jake had justwhispered into her system, “this is all just a dream.”

And just like that, he would become a mere figment of a dream for her — just like all the other human he had bedded before. Sure, it was hypocritical of him to play around with them like that but he always reassured himself sickeningly that he wasn’t doing any harm by doing so. If anything he just gave yet another human a good time — a time they would never find in the touch of any other human. He also induced partial amnesia in them so that they would not go insane from longing for him. It’s a win-win, Jake thought to himself, smirking, as he pulled his suit over, fixing the placement of his lip ring with a flick of his tongue.

As he climbed out of the window ledge however, he heard the familiar sound of wings fluttering.

“Sooner or later, they’re going to catch on Jake.” Jake knew who it was immediately.

“Stalking me isn’t going to rake you scores Sunoo,” Jake scoffed as he turned around, meeting the eyes of the pale messenger who used to be his deskmate during his training days, “you’d be better off striking hearts instead. Your scores last quarter is dangerously low – you know you’d get demoted if you keep at it right?”

Sunoo swallowed thickly, “I can’t help it, love doesn’t last that long anymore these days. I can’t strike their hearts to one another knowing that it will only end in heartbreak.”

“That is exactly your flaw. You care far too much,” Jake sighed, “Come on, our threshold for successful matches is only in love that lasts for 5 years. Just keep that as a goal — ignore what happens within and beyond and you’re on your way to glory.”

“Not all relationship that lasts 5 years is love,” Sunoo’s voice hardened, eyes quivering as if trying to not believe the words that came out of Jake.

“Does it matter?” Jake shrugged, “love takes various forms. Innocent, tempestuous, scandalous, obsessive, toxic. Whatever happens, heartbreaks are part and parcel of life isn’t it? If it’s too much, we can always mend their heart by latching them onto another which then counts into our tallies and-“

“They’re not mere scores Jake. Hearts can break irreparably,” Sunoo interjected, brows twitching in what looked like a mixture of disbelief and disappointment, “you’ve changed.”

“As if you haven’t,” Jake winked as he slipped off the windowsill, his large wings fluttering open, keeping him afloat, “I know you’ve ventured down the Abyss to procure certain spells to alter your scores every quarter Sunoo,” Jake smirked, feeling triumphant at the hint of guilt evident on Sunoo’s gaze, “you’re not anymore moral nor ethical as I am. It's okay, we all got our vices. Just keep out of my affairs Sunoo and we’re cool.”

And just like that he disappeared, feeling re-energised from his night-long endeavour. In fact, he raked more scores than normal that day — the success of which was also aided by the fact that it was the first sunny day after weeks of torrential rain, bringing more people out and about, all in their Sunday best and in the brightest of moods, making it easier for his poisoned arrows to work its magic.

That was probably why you stuck out like a sore thumb to him when he was lingering at the traffic intersection for in the midst of people in bright and colourful get-up, with a delightful expression to match, you were decked in monochrome, with expressions so somber and eyes on your phone screen. When you finally looked up, your face contorted into a grimace, absolutely disgusted by the couple who was kissing in front of you.

The so-called Love cynics, Jake remembered a lesson back then, someone who is aversed to love. Could be Asexual, could be a product of trauma, could be just hardened by age and cynical outlook. They will be the hardest to bend but the biggest of catches. Jake’s hand was already reaching for another arrow in his quiver, his mind working hard in analysing your personality and trying to match it with dozen of other men within the vicinity — the perfect match of which he found in no time at the PhD student just across with whom you could share your intellectual interests with and with whom your more rational and logical tendencies could live in harmony with.

“Perfect,” Jake thought to himself as he directed his arrow in your direction, the strings taut in his fingers. Just 2 seconds after the light had turned green, Jake let his arrow go. That was an easy kill, Jake smirked triumphantly, confident that his calculations on timing, distance and strength, would have struck you precisely when the other guy would have come into your direct line of sight.

But then you suddenly ducked and all hell breaks loose for not only had Jake missed but his arrow struck the worst of targets: an expecting mother and, just across, a man who was on his way to his own wedding. It was a potential multiple breach of ethics that would have summoned him right to the Court Office.

“Fuck,” Jake cussed, blazing past the throng of crowd, scrambling for a lead-tipped arrow that is meant to reverse his magic, and stabbing it onto the woman just seconds away before she lurched towards the man.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, puzzled, as the lady who had stopped right in front of him with arms outstretched paused, looking dazed, before apologising. Jake exhaled sharply at the close call. Brushing his hair back in annoyance, he looked around, eyes frantically scanning for the you - the troublemaker - though by then you were long gone, swallowed by the bustling crowd.

“That’s a bit annoying,” Jake grumbled, shooting another arrow at someone else whom he quickly found a match for on the other side of the road. That union, he projected, would last at least 9 years but even that couldn’t quell the distaste he felt in his mouth after his near-miss – the distaste of which lasted almost all day despite the successes he raked.

And so that night, he stayed back in the human world during forbidden hours, finding you very easily through his network of friends. While you weren’t his first miss, you somehow continued to linger at the back of his mind, haunting him all day.

Sitting by your windowsill, he observed your every move as if you were a specimen to behold. He watched you get so engrossed in your report; watched you get annoyed by how your regressions didn’t come out the way you expected; watched in amusement at the way you’d accidentally dozed off, only to spring back to typing when you jolted awake.

“What are you so engrossed in?” Jake wondered out load as he floated inside, peeking over your shoulders, “Aww,” he cooed, “look at you, burning the midnight oil to finish up a policy paper to save the poor,” he sat onto the empty space on your table, next to your screen, “but who’s going to save you, you miserable poor loveless thing.”

“I could I guess,” he brought his knees up, hugging it close to his chest, “I do love a challenge,” he mumbled, chin resting on his knee as he watched you with a specific glint in his eyes, “I’ll make your first your last, how’s that?” 

It shouldn’t be hard, he thought, after all, there are 8 billion of people in this world. There are already about a hundred in your apartment building and a couple of hundreds more in your office block, and a couple hundred thousands more between your journeys. The probability is enormous, the possibility is endless, he smirked to himself as he lowered his face towards you, leaning in so as to whisper something in your ear, “you’ll thank me.”

Such optimism and excitement however quickly dissipated in the span of a few days as you somehow magically always evaded his golden arrows in time, causing him to have to use his expensive and hard-acquired lead-tipped arrows to reverse most of the effects. 

“You can’t see me right?” Jake floated in front of you, waving his hand maniacally before inching his face so close towards you as if trying to confirm whether or not you had a built-in radar for him.

As he parsed your history more, it became clearer just how difficult it would be to match you with anyone. Not only was your interest in a getting a partner or dating almost nil but you minimise any opportunities to find one as well: not engaging in social niceties beyond necessary; being oblivious to any interests towards your way; distancing yourself when you detect any hint of interest; and the list goes on. Indeed a ‘Love Cynic’ to the T.

The thing about hardened love cynics is that, while they are the biggest catch, they could also be your biggest downfall if you fail. This is because love cynics, once heartbroken, would feel despair and anguish like none other which just serves to fuel their skepticism and opposition to love afterwards – the result of which would burn holes in the records of any messengers who was in charge of them. Hence, they are always avoided especially by the average messengers.

But then again, Jake was not just your average messenger. He was amongst the best, rivalling some of his predecessors even with some scores made in turning love cynics around. So it was not all surprising just how obsessed he was with getting you a match.

One day, an opportunity came in a silver platter for him as the elevator you guys were in opened to a lad from IT, whose attraction for you was very evident from the way his face lit up, “y/n, it’s a been a while!”

“Well would you look at that,” Jake sung as he pulled an arrow from his quiver, grinning triumphantly. Jake did not even need to parse his mind to see the interest he had for you as it drips from his gaze to his voice. But as he looked back at you, who had shot the other guy the briefest of smile before whipping your phone up to mindlessly scroll your email, Jake’s grin immediately faltered. “You are seriously helpless y/n,” Jake sighed, looking almost as if he was in a trance as he inched closer, pressing the golden-tipped arrow against your back – the puncture of which would have struck your right through your heart, “your attitude needs fixing y/n or else you’ll never find someone—”

Jake was really just 3 seconds away from puncturing you when you recoiled. He initially thought you might have somehow felt the sharpness of his arrow but turned out the guy’s hand was just trailing languidly down your arm.

“Are you still angry about last time?” the man scoffed, the seemingly-warm smile fading almost immediately, “I told you last time, that night was a mistake. I was drunk and I tried to kiss you. That was it. I didnt even managed to do it since-“

“I don’t care about your reasons, you crossed the line,” you replied curtly, “and right now you are one step away from crossing another line. Remember what HR said last time? The next time it happens, they’re just one visit away and you’d immediately be out of the Ministry.”

His lips contorted into a wry grin, the annoyance becoming evident in his voice and face, “you must feel all high and mighty just because you’re in a more superior position than me,” he inched closer, looming ominously, “do you really want to know what true assaults are like-“

Almost too calmly, you hit one of the elevator buttons, its door opening just 3 floors before your destination as you turned your phone towards him, the screen showing a recording in progress, “show your face to me once again and this recording will get sent straight to a public forum. You won’t just be laid off here but this would burn holes in your record making it hard for you to find a new job.”

The man backed away finally, looking every bit flustered, “no wonder you’re still single, you’re a fucking witch-“

“And you’re just one fucking phone call away from being hauled off,” you interjected as you stepped out of the elevator despite it being 3 floor away from your destination. You hear him mutter curses loudly as you walked away. 

Jake was still open-mouthed as he trailed behind you, “that was,” he caught up, hands clapping, “pretty badass. I really thought I needed to step in for a second there but you,” he slipped through the closing door of the emergency staircase which you had just opened, “you were fearless. You were-“ he stopped short as he watched you stood immobile as soon as you entered the emergency stairwell. As if losing the strength in your knees, you leaned weakly against the door, head bowed down.  

Jake watched in confusion as you slid down, your breathing growing rapid, chest heaving, hands trembling as you muttered through gritted teeth, “get it together, y/n. It’s nothing.”

Jake knelt next to you, his mind delving into a specific parcel of memory from the night when you first met the guy earlier — the night when, under the pretense of drunkenness, had tried to corner you into an empty meeting room and tried to kiss you. “Shit,” Jake finally said, brows furrowing in a mixture of concern and guilt. Just moments ago, his competitiveness could have gotten you ensnared with the guy who almost assaulted you — the guy who had caused so much terror in you.

“I’m sorry,” he scooted closer now, feeling guilty. Now Jake may not be a saint nor would he call himself virtuous by any means but he was no devil either. As much as you grinds his gears with your aromantic and callous ways he would never match you with someone like that. 

He sunk beside you, forlorn, his hands ghosting your shoulders. He wanted to apologise but it's not like you could hear him anyway. He wanted to comfort you but his hands would just go through you. He felt oddly powerless. So instead, he stayed next to you in silence, straining his muscles so that his arms just ghost around your shoulders. When you finally calmed down, you leaned back against the door, exhaling sharply. 

Jake watched you intently, his gaze softening. “You know what,” he muttered quietly, “I’ll find you a really good guy — someone who will give you the world. Give you everything.”

For the first time in a while he didn’t see a mere tally to be crossed off the list. Instead he saw a person — a person who deserved the best and most purest form of love he was capable of finding. He rose up, his body curling over your back, leaning down to whisper a promise in your ear, “I give you my word.”

— ii.

Days turned to months and still Jake Sim could not find a match for you. Except this time, the fault lay mostly in him for he could not find anyone good enough for you. They are always lacking or excessive in something and he didn’t want to risk it falling apart. 

Not for you at least. 

And so in between entwining others’ hearts, he would linger around you, following you closely wherever you go, whatever you do. Like a specimen to behold, he watches your every movement and ponder over it up to the point that he remembers your habits and quirks like the back of his hand: how you like your coffee; how salty you like your food to be; the detours you take; your music tastes; the changes in your jogging routes; when you will get cold; when you’d start getting bored of something; and so on.

Eventually, it all fell into a routine. As you settle into your home, he settles with you – as if he belonged there. As you try things out and push boundaries, Jake was also always around, cheering you on – as if his morale support counts. As you considered your choices such as during shopping or working, Jake would share his thoughts and opinions about it to you as well – as if you could even hear him. 

Soon he begun to fill in the silences with you, telling you of his day; the matches he made; the realm he is from; his past and so on – venting on and on, as if you could hear him. 

And whenever you retire to bed at night, he no longer takes it as his cue to return to his realm. Instead he settled right next to you — watching you over like a Guardian Angel.

At least that’s what he deluded himself of until his eyes begun to wander farther each nights, pulling his mind deeper into the recesses of which he never ventured to before with you. It started slow, from eyes wandering, tracing the outlines of your face and body; to gaze lingering at your lips and your exposed skin, heartbeat racing as he wondered how they would feel under his. Soon he would find his hands balling into fists, fighting an invisible battle between desire and duty. Still he could never tear his gaze away from you.

The true test however came one night when you suddenly rolled over to his side, your face perfectly aligned with the crook of his neck and your hand perfectly landing to where his hand was. While this was nothing major compared to whatever he had gotten up to in the sheets, it sent his heart racing like none other. Almost automatically, he brought his hand up to your face, ghosting the outlines of your jaw, pausing by your chin as his gaze become fixated on your lips which was plush and parted slightly — so innocent yet so tantalizing and inviting. 

Desires begin to muddle his mind, self-control cascading as he transformed himself to his human form. The space he occupied sinking instantly with his weight, causing you to stir in your sleep. Alarmed, Jake immediately hovered over you, his hand gently covering your eyes as he whispered words laced with enchantments in your ears, “it’s all just a dream love.”

He slowly slid his hand down your face, thumbs caressing your cheek softly as he watched how your brows furrow as your instinct and will to wake up warred with his enchantments. Jake leaned down, planting soft kisses on your neck, “go back to sleep.”

Finally you eased up, gradually laying limp in his embrace. Jake smiled softly at the sight, that was close. He should have pulled away then but as if there was a magnetic pull, Jake could not tear himself from you nor did he want to. As if his senses were on overdrive, he could feel everything amplified. The way your body was perfectly dwarfed under his larger frame was evoking something primal and protective within him. The warmth emanating from your body was warming his own, enveloping him, making his skin tingle in anticipation. The scent of your hair and the lingering fragrance of your soap — a mélange of florals and greens — enticing him, intoxicating him to draw closer.  

His fingers begin to trail down, tracing patterns along your jaw, down your neck, to your collarbones. Your skin was soft and smooth and he marvelled at the sensation of it all against his fingertips. Every touch sent jolts of electricity through his body, igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole.

Eventually his eyes returned back to your lips — these damned lips, he thought as the pad of his thumb brush softly over your lower lip, watching the soft flesh softening and bending under the subtle pressure of his fingertips before springing back to its plush and supple form, plunging his mind to treacherous depths where he envisions that it was his lips doing the undoing, mouth devouring yours, tasting the sweetness that he knew could be savoured on his tongue.

That was when something snapped and the next thing he knew, he had lowered his mouth to yours, gently pressing his lips against yours, intoxicated by the softness of your lips and the warmth which was enveloping him whole.

That should have been it. He should have pulled away then. After all, he just wanted a taste. But the more tasted, the more he craved and soon he found himself claiming your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. As your lips parted under his insistence, his tongue plunged deep inside your mouth, as if seeking to devour you whole. You tasted like honey and sin and Jake just couldn’t get enough, yearning for more.

Desperate for more contact, his hand was already gripping your clothes, tugging it down, resulting in a slight tear – the sound of which knocked him back to his senses. He pulled away, breathing ragged, startled by the state he had reduced you to. Your hair was slightly disheveled, lips swollen, and shirt hung loosely off one shoulder, exposing a bruise that was blooming on your collarbone – physical manifestations of the intensity of his desires. Guilt seized him as he realised the extent of his actions and almost immediately, he backed away from you, recognising the depths of depravity he was capable of reaching. With self-control hanging by a thread, he knew he would lose all forms of control if he stayed any longer so with a heavy heart and mind still reeling from conflicting emotions, Jake teleported himself back to his realm.

You jolted awake not long after, your heart pounding in your chest as you sat up in alarm. It must have been another nightmare, you thought, trying to shake off the lingering sensations of paralysis that still clung to your body. With a dismissive shake of your head, you laid back down, your lips feeling strangely sore and dry. As you licked your lips, your eyes flickered open, tasting something metallic on your tongue. Curious, you brought your fingers to your lips, probing the spot that throbbed. To your surprise, your fingers came away smeared with blood.

— iii.

Back in his realm, Jake wasted no time in seducing a couple of others, spending the rest of the night in a blur of ecstasy in a bid to distract and numb himself with pleasures. Perhaps, the temporary pause in his libertine pursuits had led such desires to fester dangerously, he thought.

Except when he woke up the next day, you still bore at the back of his mind. Almost as if scalded, he could still feel the warmth of your skin in his hand, the softness of your lips on his lips. Worse, he yearns for it – yearns to feel more.

Something was going wrong, he thought to himself as he lingered around the market just outside of the apartment where he had spent the night at. Eager and desperate for a distraction he wandered further, letting himself be lost in the hustle and bustle of the morning crowd, looking aimlessly at the selection of fruits and flowers being sold.

As he passed by one of the exits however, he caught a glimpse of an archway materializing at a desolated corner, dark and thorny vines crawling out from within as if calling him. He had passed by this corner of the street a billion times before but he swore he had never seen the archway.

He called upon one of the boys playing nearby, “Hey, is that like the entrance to a new market or something?”

The boy squinted to where he was pointing but only looked back at Jake weirdly, “what do you mean? What archway? It’s just the unsightly brick wall-“

“There,” Jake pointed again, adamant, “the alley-“

“Sir, you’re either trying to scare me or you need your eyes checked because I’m seeing nothing but a dead-end,” the boy grimaced, shaking his head as he rejoined his friends in the crowd.

“What an insolent bast-“ he stopped short, looking back at the alley, the vines getting longer and longer. He suddenly realised what it was and why no one was seeing it. The Abyss, he muttered to himself, recalling all the tales he was told during his schooling years about a portal to another dimension – a dimension that is akin to a black market, having absolutely anything one could ever desire especially the most forbidden and illicit of desires. Hence why entering the realm has been forbidden, especially to those like Jake who hold official positions and is considered amongst the most noble and elite of beings.

But curiosity got the best of him. After all, the Abyss cannot be sought for it seeks on its own instead. In fact, rumours has it that only those with dark desires could open up the portal and Jake was confident that he had none of that. After all, he has absolutely everything anyone covets: good looks; wealth; reputation and glory. If he wanted he could get promoted; get the hottest girl in town; get the most lavish manor in the realm; and so on. Feeling haughty, Jake pulled his cloak over his head, slipping past the crowd towards the archway, "let's see what you think you can offer me then."

To Jake's disappointment, nothing had materialised so far no matter how deep he ventured. It was just an misty alley with faint cacophony of noises like murmurs, bells, and chatters. Jake scoffed, see, he thought to himself, no dark desires.

When he turned around to go back however, his grin faltered as the alley now disappeared, replaced by a literal abyss.

“Everyone has dark desires young man.”

Jake jumped, startled. Behind him was an decrepit old man, face hardened with wrinkles, “you’re not the only Elite who has walked these paths,” he grinned lopsidedly, “I can assure you they all thought the same way you did. Head held high, face grimacing in contempt as if they had just walked into muck. But in the end, they were always the ones who went so far as to trade their powers and long life – always the one ended up becoming the most wicked. Exactly the ones tragedies are made about.”

Jake swallowed thickly. He can see shadows forming behind the man, making the outlines of a mass of people congregating as if he was an exhibit. The muffled sounds now growing louder – almost like a bedlam. “Nothing is materializing though,” Jake managed, trying to cover the fear that was brewing within.

“Young man,” the elderly scoffed, “you being able to open up the Abyss alone is a feat no ordinary goodie can do.”

Suddenly a gust of wind hit him, causing Jake to cover his face with his cloak. By the time he pulled his hand away, he was back in the market – right where the arch was – except this time, there was no arch. Like the boy from earlier said, it was a dead end. There was a sudden ringing in his ear, causing him to double down, before everything quietened almost too deafeningly.

Come again once you know what is it that your heart truly desires boy.

Jake spun around, alert. But the old man was nowhere to be found.

— iv.

Troubled and unsettled, Jake went back to the human realm to find you. You had, after all, became his own little solace ��� like a home to return to. Even if you couldn’t see, hear nor feel him — all he needed was you close by. 

Except just when he needed you the most, he couldn’t find you. You weren’t anywhere you were supposed to be nor anywhere you could be. This would not have alarmed him so had he not also been able to sense you.

Fuck, he panicked, wings almost set ablaze as he rushed from one place to another at impossible speed. There could only be one reason as to why he could not sense someone he had 'targeted': the target had been struck by others.

“No no no no no,” he muttered in disbelief, chest heaving in panic. Jake never lose control nor composure but right now, he was spiralling. Gone was his pride by the time he appeared by Sunoo’s doorstep, dishevelled and manic, spitting out his version of events.

“You weren’t supposed to go down the Abyss!” Sunoo chastised him the moment Jake told him about it, “you know just venturing there robs you of your power – albeit momentarily.”

“Is that what this is?” Jake paced back and forth, “must be right? that I can't sense her simply because of whatever curse the Abyss had put on me?” He grasped Sunoo by the shoulders, eyes wild with fear, “–not because she has been struck?”

“Jake–“ Sunoo croaked, caught off guard by Jake’s sudden outburst and outpour of emotions, “–just, please calm down first. Since everything seems fine to you, it’s possible your loss of detection is the momentary punishment for going down the Abyss but... we can’t also be sure that she has not been struck yet.”

Jake knows that very well. Except, he didn’t expect that the loss would have impacted him this greatly. It was true what they say then. That the Abyss is so wretched and cursed, just venturing down will rob you of something that is very valuable to you. He never considered it before, thinking that losing his ability momentarily would probably do him good – giving him the respite he so badly needed after working so hard. Little did he know, it struck him exactly where it hurts.

“When will it come back?”

“If it’s your first time down there, probably a night. But the more you go, the longer the effects last,” Sunoo sighed, “Just wait until tomor-“

“I can’t fucking wait until tomorrow,” Jake bellowed, infuriated, before sinking onto a nearby couch, head buried in his hands as he tried to calm himself down. Sunoo sighed. It was the first time he saw Jake so wrecked, it almost pained him. "The Royal Scotts Rooftop," Sunoo muttered quietly, guilt evident in his voice, "I followed the girl earlier, hoping to find you. When you weren't around, I thought maybe you've lost interest- that'd be good-" he paused, "but I guess, you've never lost it."

Jake rose up immediately, he wanted to berate Sunoo for not telling him sooner but at that time nothing could top his desire and urgency to find you so before Sunoo could even finish, Jake had taken off.

— v.

Despite the sea of people on the rooftop of the 5-Star hotel, he could immediately spot you.

His face immediately lit up, materializing behind you within seconds. “I’ve searched everywhere for you,” he sighed, gaze softening, before suddenly feeling a hand go through him towards you. He turned around, seeing that the hand belonged to a well-dressed man with ‘Jay’ on his name tag – a consultant from another company who had worked with you on a project a year ago, “the confettis,” Jay mumbled, inching unnecessarily close – at least by Jake’s standards – towards you to try and ruffle some from your hair.

“Oh thanks,” you reached over to your hair, trying to take them out yourself, before breaking into laughter over the fact that Jay had a lot of glitter in his, “dude – you’re worse-“

Within seconds Jake had already parsed Jay’s character and his history – finding that, despite the clash of characters, Jay would be good for you. He was very giving, affectionate, and selfless – something you, Jake thought, definitely deserve. Jay definitely is the best match out of all the potential matches so far, Jake thought to himself.

This should have been enough for him to rejoice at, for him to start reaching for the arrow in his quiver. After all, it’s rare to see you interact socially with men and have a good time with them — even rarer to find that particular man to be one of the best match he had come across for you. Sure, you two had really strong characters that would square the other at times but Jay would ultimately always be willing to break himself for you and give you the world. 

Had you been any other person, Jake would have already struck you both in seconds, latching you both together. But peculiarly, his mind was working on overdrive finding 1001 reasons not to instead. “Come to think about it,” Jake reasoned, feeling irked by the second, “this man is too affectionate and too selfless. You wouldn’t want someone like that right?” he materialised behind you, whispering in your ear as if you could hear him.

When you excused yourself to get some refreshments, Jake continued trailing behind you, ranting on and on as if trying to justify his actions. Or lack thereof, “I mean, eventually people like those will just bog you down,” he overtook you, stopping right in front of you, gesticulating wildly, “the kind that will make you stay out of guilt – make you second guess your own personality and character. I can see it happen y/n.”

He could see then that a tall guy near the podium was staring right at you — the interest and attraction evident in his eyes. “Heeseung-“ Jake read the name on his tag, his mind already parsing through him, seeing that Heeseung was one of the senior officers in the department just across of yours to whom you had always held high regard of. Him to you too. Again, this would have been a perfect match. Unlike Jay earlier, his personality and character would hardly ever square yours. He’d always relent to your choices and your ways, letting you call the shots. 

You caught a glimpse of Heeseung, giving a quick nod of acknowledgement and almost immediately Jake blocked your view, as if it even does anything, “not him either y/n,” he argued defensively, “he’s a hopeless romantic. You’d get sick of him in the long run.”

Just next to Heeseung is another guy who also by then kept throwing glances at you. Ni-Ki, an intern who was under your tutelage just a year ago but has since then moved on to other department. Jake grimaced as he parsed through the young lad’s memory, “definitely not him. Too young, still childish.”

Eventually, you turned away from the crowd, and looked out at the street below, your mind reeling from all the socialising you’ve had to do earlier. As your mind wandered, you find yourself becoming increasingly lost in your own thoughts, unaware of the intense gaze fixed upon you. “No one here is deserving of you y/n,” Jake murmured softly as he leaned sideways against the baluster, his eyes transfixed on your profile. 

As if spellbound, Jake studied your features as if you were a work of art. His eyes traced the delicate lines of your face, the curve of your cheek, the gentle slope of your nose, and the soft fullness of your lips. He inched closer, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, until he was so near that you could have felt his breath on your skin, had he been tangible.

And then, in a sudden twist, you turned your head abruptly in his direction, your eyes locking with his in direct precision almost as if you could sense his presence and see beyond the veil of invisibility that cloaked him. He watched, completely paralysed, as your brow twitched ever so subtly, hand raised close towards where his cheek were as if you could really perceive him. Jake’s breath hitched — enchanted — as he gently angled his face towards your palm, slowly resting his cheek against your hand, imagining the warmth of your touch, the softness of your skin. 

Lulled by the possibility, Jake's throat tightened, bringing his invisible hand up to yours, ghosting over it as if cupping it — yearning for the connection to be tangible, for you to see him, to feel the touch that he so desperately wanted to give.

He still have not fully understood the swirl of emotions and feelings he harboured for you but in that moment — when it felt like there was only you two in this world — he knew he wanted this. You for him, and him for you. 

He wanted to freeze time, to prolong this moment of connection that felt so right, but a voice broke through the intimate silence, shattering the fragile bubble he had created.

“You haven’t changed a bit-“

Jake felt a large hand pass through his, taking hold of yours, and his heart constricted with a pang of longing. The hand he had wanted to grasp, to hold, was now in the possession of another man — a tall and pale senior coworker who was supposed to still be on an overseas posting. Jake's breath hitched as he looked up and witnessed the smile on your face, a smile that he had never seen directed at anyone else. 

"Sunghoon?" your voice lit up with surprise and delight, and Jake felt a stab of jealousy at the warmth in your tone, "I thought you won’t be back for another two years!”

Jake stepped back, his invisible form fading into the shadows as he witnessed the reunion between you and Sunghoon. The hand he had longed to hold was now entwined with someone else's, and the smile he had wanted to claim for himself was shining for another. The warmth, familiarity and endearment between you and the man was so evident that it begun to stir something unfamiliar within Jake — a mix of protectiveness and longing that he couldn't quite name.

“Thought life here was much better so I sped the contract up,” Sunghoon shrugged haughtily.

“I bet it's because I wasn’t there,” you joked, trying to match his playful haughtiness. Usually Sunghoon would have replied with something equally as smug but somehow, something has changed and you could feel it in the way his eyes bore into yours and the way his hand had tightened over yours, lingering purposefully far too long for it to be casual. “Exactly,” he answered almost too genuinely you find yourself at a loss for words so you do what you do best — feign nonchalance, “oh bugger off,” you playfully yank your hand away, “What have America done to you!”

He grinned mischievously, “well, you know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

You shook your head dismissively though the smile that has never left your lips and the way your eyes never broke his conveyed more than words could ever.

“Can I get a hug now? You never visited like you promised you would,” he extended his hands, brows wriggling playfully.

“I never made such promises but fine-“ you shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance, as you let him draw you nearer, let him engulf you in his large frame. You have hugged him before but this time, this too, felt different. “I’ve missed you y/n,” you feel him bend lower so he could bury his head in the crook of your neck and you feel his hand slide over your waist almost too intimately for it to just be a friendly hug. 

This time however you didn’t feign nonchalance, deflect nor playfully reject him. Instead you let yourself sink fully into the warmth of his embrace, your hands reaching up to hug him back as your head leaned against his chest, eyes shut as you murmured softly, “me too.”

Jake had never seen a more perfect pair. Sure you two had your differences but together, you guys complement each other seamlessly like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. Your strengths balanced each other''s weaknesses, and your personalities would harmonize in a beautiful and enviable symphony of love and understanding.

Now would have been perfect, Jake found his rational self thinking, his hand automatically reaching for a golden arrow from his quiver. But instead of nocking the arrow and releasing it toward its intended target, he found himself hesitating, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip.

In a surprising twist, Jake turned the arrow on himself, driving it into his own chest, directly over his heart. Immediately, the arrow exploded into a shower of glittering dust, as was its nature. Although the arrow had no physical effect on beings like him, with the way his interest and attention on you has dangerously warped with a mix of attraction, desire, and lust — he might as well have been shot with one. 

How peculiar, he thought. He had always wondered how does such intense love which human shared with one another feel and yet now that he felt it rising from within, all he felt was bitterness rather than joy. 

The glittering dust that lingered in the air seemed to mock Jake, serving as a tangible reminder of the complex emotions swirling within him — emotions of which was increasingly blurring the lines between duty and desire. While usually symbolising some sort of celebration, the glittering particles which was still dancing around him now felt like a warning, a sign that his path was veering into uncharted and potentially dangerous territory.

He knew then, perhaps a little too late, that he wanted you. Wanted you for himself.

— vi.

Since then gone was the desire within him to match you with anyone. In fact, gone was his desire to match anyone at all as he becomes increasingly preoccupied with you — more specifically, his desires for you.

He had begun to take on human forms longer than usual, trying to get your attention, trying to slip himself into the fabric of your life. But the task, which usually had been easy for him, was difficult this time because apparently his face and charms weren’t enough.

Having observed you for a long time he knew that blatant attention and attraction would put you off so he made sure to lay and play each parts carefully and strategically, making it seem as if everything was coincidental.

“Hi, I believe this is yours?” You asked innocently when Jake opened his door. In your hand was a parcel which had his name and address but somehow wrongly delivered at your doorstep.

Finally, Jake thought to himself, his heart almost leaping out of his ribcage. He had been waiting impatiently the whole day for you after having paid someone to deliver the package wrongly at your doorstep.

Almost effortlessly he feigned surprise and confusion, “right, sorry about that, I’m new in this apartment block so maybe there's a mix-up," he shrugged, careful to not look overeager, "been waiting for this limited copy of 1984 to arrive, thank goodness it got wrongly delivered in the right hands otherwise it would probably get resold in ebay or something—"

“1984?” Your face lit up. Of course my dear, it’s one of your favourite books isn’t it, Jake answered in his mind. Oblivious to the glint in his eyes and the subtle twitch of his lips, you continued excitedly, “I rarely see anyone around me read 1984!”

“Now you do,” he said charmingly as he offered his hand, satisfied at the way you have eased up, “my name is Jake. Jake Sim. I’ve just moved.”

“Oh I’m y/n,” you introduced, “I live in the apartment right under yours.”

I know, he muttered to himself in his mind, “thank you for this y/n. I’ll see you around.”

You nodded enthusiastically, oblivious to the way his words seemingly had double meaning.

The next few weeks Jake busied him by encroaching your life ever so subtly and strategically. You bumped into him in the same aisle at the bookstore and ended up chatting in a nearby coffee about your favourite books which somehow is similar to his. You bumped into him at dawn just outside your apartment complex before you go on your run, he himself was warming up for his, and that ended up with you two going on a run together.

Eventually you two became closer than mere neighbours that he could somehow orchestrate to get himself inside your place, “sorry about that-“ he apologised, coming out of your shower with the robe draping loosely and casually over his shoulders, making a poor effort of covering his chiseled chest and abs. 

While Jake was indeed very good-looking, you’ve always thought something about his looks seems so ethereal. But now, shed of all the sleek suits and tidy hair, he looks humanely good-looking and you found yourself almost stuttering in surprise when he got out.

“You should report it to the Head Office tomorrow," you averted your eyes towards the kettle in your kitchen, "I mean it's an expensive penthouse, how can the hot water be broken so soon? must be shoddy construction job or lack of maintenance."

“Burning the midnight oil?” He asked, leisurely leaning against the counter as he dried his hair.

“Yeah,” you sighed, pouring it into the flask where you had already added some coffee grounds and sugar. You felt the weight of his stare and out of pure courtesy, offered him as well, “oh, would you like–" you hesitated, "maybe not right? It’s almost 12.”

“Actually, yeah, that would be great,” he smiled, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that felt almost spellbinding. While Jake wanted nothing more than to bridge the physical gap in between you and him, and take your lips right there and then, he knew better than to submit to his desires this early. With others, it might have worked but with you he definitely had to take it slow. It pained him but like a prized conquest — he was willing to go through it.

Except regardless of how well-crafted his plans were, nothing could outpace what is really written. While he struggled to escalate the friendship he had built with you, Sunghoon had gotten closer and closer to you. 

When you did not come home one night, Jake re-assumed his non-human form, immediately locating you back in your office where you were burning the midnight oil with Sunghoon. 

Jake feels his anger simmering as he watched how Sunghoon latched onto you, following you wherever you go. He watched in frustration as Sunghoon hands hover close to you, as if being territorial; how his hands would even sometimes linger over yours more than necessary.

But it was the sight of you seemingly reciprocating him that was the most painful to bear: the way you let his hand lingered; the way you held his gaze instead of staring away; the way you never shifted as he drew nearer. 

The next thing he knew, Sunghoon had closed the distance between you and him, his lips gently pressing against yours, his hand snaking up your back to hold you ever closer. Jake was mortified. When you pulled away not long after, seeking a moment to catch your breath, Jake was sure then that you would have shoved Sunghoon off, perhaps even slap him for his boldness. But nothing of that sort happened for when Sunghoon re-attached his lips to yours, you didn’t resist, surrendering to the sensations he elicited, letting him devour you as you melt slowly into his embrace and touch.

Jake could feel the fury consuming him as he trudged up behind you, stabbing you with a lead-tipped arrow which would have sowed seeds of dislike for the other person but to his surprise, the arrow dissolved into dust the moment he stabbed it onto your back – telltale signs that the arrow will not work on you and nor Sunghoon.

That was when Jake knew that you were already written for Sunghoon and when that happens, nothing can usually be done because messengers are just really lower spiritual beings. That should have been Jake’s cue to give up but instead, it became a tipping point of when it all started going awry.

As his feelings festered in the worse of ways, he became more relentless and persistent in his pursuit of you. Except any small space he could have slithered himself ‘coincidentally’ into was becoming narrower as it becomes increasingly filled by Sunghoon. Soon it was Sunghoon who accompanied you running; Sunghoon who ate lunch with you; Sunghoon who accompanied you at bookstores; Sunghoon who sent you home; Sunghoon who stayed in your place until late.

There was absolutely no space for Jake anymore.

“Yes?” Sunghoon answered your apartment door one evening, not even bothering to conceal the distaste he felt within to see Jake at the door.

“Is y/n in?” Jake asked shamelessly.

Sunghoon shook his head, “she’s in the shower.”

There was an almost casual and domestic vibe to which Sunghoon was answering that question and Jake did not like it one bit. "There was a party at my workplace earlier," Jake passed on the box of cake and bouquet of flowers to him, "thought I'd share."

"Roses?" Sunghoon raised his brows, "She actually doesn't like roses. While she does like flowers, she actually doesn't like receiving them". Jake had to muster an insurmountable amount of energy not to let Sunghoon's words affect him even when he can clearly feel the venom laced in every words, "Oh and cake?" Sunghoon went on, "don't bother, she just like a spoonful or two, not the whole box."

You bastard, Jake muttered in his mind, wanting nothing more but to punch Sunghoon squarely in the face. More than that, he hated how Sunghoon knew the nuances of your likes and dislikes, making anything that Jake knew felt surface-level. If Jake knew your favourite colour, Sunghoon would probably know the exact shade of it; if Jake knew your favourite book, Sunghoon could probably cite your favourite quotes from it; if Jake knew you couldn't handle the cold, Sunghoon would probably know the precise timing of when to turn the heater on and off like an automatic thermostat. It was a sickening testament to the history and nature of your relationship with Sunghoon – of how far and deep it goes, the gap of which Jake could probably never bridge.

But Jake knows the subject of love well. With a mastery over the mechanics of love, he therefore knows exactly where the weakest links could be; where doubts and concerns can be sowed over time to topple the whole structure. In between you and Sunghoon, Jake knew your aloofness and romantically-inept nature can be a problem in the long-run with Sunghoon's possessive tendencies and predisposition towards jealousy. So Jake wanted to capitalize that.

"I mean, I just wanted to also thank her for the other night," Jake emphasized, noticing the way Sunghoon's jaw was already tensing, "when she let me shower at her place. It was so late but she was such an angel."

Jake could see the way in which the poison in his words worked it way through Sunghoon's system from the subtle ways in which Sunghoon's brows twitched and the way his jaw ticked though he tried to mask it with a diplomatic grin, "she has always been such an angel to the point of not sensing the ulterior motives in others," Sunghoon remarked with a hint of diplomatic sarcasm, "I'll make sure to pass the message. Next time it happens, let me know instead, I'll send a plumber right to your doorstep."

With that, the door closed and Jake's grin widened in triumph as he walked away, certain to have sowed instrumental doubts between you two. Except, as he lingered around the common area of your apartment floor, Sunghoon showed no signs of leaving. When 2 hours passed, he got even more agitated, impatience taking hold. It almost felt as if he was the one that has been toppled out of control. Jake had to do something though knocking at your door again is probably not the best idea.

So Jake transformed back to his non-human form – the ability of which was diminishing as days passed, the result of slacking in his duties and staying too long in his human form.

When Jake slipped inside your apartment, he could feel the dread rising, seeing the hallway too dimly-lit. “y/n,” he sighed in relief as he entered the living room and see you seated at the couch but soon the smile faltered as Sunghoon, who was beside you, leaned in and pressed his lips against yours – kissing you softly and tenderly. It was all cute and lighthearted – something Jake would have rejoiced seeing had it been any other person. But this was not just any other person. It was you. His you.

His hand gradually balled into a fist as he watched Sunghoon curled his hand over your nape, seizing you in place as he leaned in further to deepen the kiss. As the moment lingered, there was a palpable shift in the air – the sizzling tension of which was only mirrored in the way the kiss was escalating beyond it ever has with Sunghoon’s passion and desire growing more intense by the second as if he had been struck by countless of golden arrows.

Jake’s gaze hardened and as if possessed, he took out countless of lead-tipped arrows, stabbing it onto Sunghoon’s back in a desperate effort to stop him – only for each arrow to dissolve into black dusts – leaving Jake with no choice but to watch the horror unfold before him.

“Stop,” Jake croaked, hoping that you would pull away, that you would resist. But you didn’t. Instead Sunghoon’s body surged forward with urgency, forcing you to lean back onto the couch, his lips still glued onto yours. His movements were almost territorial now as he caged you in, his figure dwarfing yours completely while his hands rove possessively down your waist and up your back, tracing every curve and contour of your form, causing shiver to run down your spine.

Breathless, you pulled away, eyes locked into each other, breathing ragged, hearts racing wildly — the air almost catching fire from the sizzling tension. Sunghoon’s gaze, usually soft and doe-like, had darkened with raw passion and desire. Without anymore pretense nor hesitation, he plunged back in, crushing his lips down upon yours with fierce hunger, leaving you reeling from the force of his kiss. 

In a clear display of dominance and possession, Sunghoon pressed himself firmly against you, his lips parting yours, tongue slithering in to delve deeper, devouring you whole. It was clear then that this wasn’t just a simple kiss anymore. Jake knew exactly where it was all heading. 

And yet Jake was powerless to stop it.

— vii.

Jake re-entered the Abyss easily now for this was his 4th time. The 2nd was when he converted almost all of his riches for human money just so he can buy his disguises and play pretend in the human world. After all, the designers he wear and the penthouse above yours cost a fortune. The 3rd was when he bought more energy so he can stay longer in his human form. 

By now, the Abyss was no longer just a hazy dark alley of market with only one or two sellers visible. As Jake begin to understand and embrace all the dark desires he harboured for you, the place was now teeming with sellers.

It was true what the old man had said then, that the Abyss only reveals itself and the fullness of its world when you acknowledge your dark desires. In fact, the sellers that he can see are those who sell anything related to love and hate – as if the Abyss perfectly curates what you can see according to what your heart desires.

Jake marched to the corner where potions are being sold, the lady materialising out of nowhere, slithering in and out of the colourful fumes like a serpent. He reached for a ‘love potion’ — a bubbling concoction in deep red, “I want this but the strongest one. Get me the strongest hate potion too.”

“Gladly,” the seller cackled when suddenly the old man from the other day appeared behind Jake, “a messenger of love buying a love potion – do you, yourself, not see the irony in that young boy?”

Jake glowered at the man.

The man continued, “if someone like you can’t change her feelings, what makes you think potions can?”

Jake balled his fist, “tell me what to do then,” he lurched at the man, crumpling his collar, “you said this place has everything I could want, tell me where I could go then- who I should find- what I should buy-"

“What you want,” the man smirked, his eyes a pool of darkness, “carries a hefty price beyond all the wealth you’ve amassed.”

“Anything-“ Jake pleaded, memories of earlier replaying in his mind like a broken record, “I want her.”

Suddenly with a snap of a finger, Jake found himself transported into what looked like an underground cistern. Everywhere he looked were stretches of gigantic columns, dimly illuminated by an eerie red glow. 

Jake almost jumped, startled, when he turned around to see the old man sneering, his face contorting oddly. "The Netherworld?" Jake asked almost spitefully, "you've brought me to the Netherworld?"

“Get off your high horse young man,” he brushed past Jake, “entering the Abyss was one thing but being able to follow me into the Netherworld is another. You remember all the cautionary tales don’t you? It takes a very corrupted heart for a being like you to break through the veil and enter here-“

Jake watched the man descend down the stairs, alarmed when he saw his shadows bearing horns. When his eyes snapped back up the old man had turned into someone younger and taller — more than 2 ft — with horns curving out of his head and robes that seemed to be made entirely of black smoke, “what? you didn’t think I was an Angel did you?”

Jake took a step back, “you must be out of your mind to think that I would want to work with you, a wretched Evil Spirit of some sort?”

“You say that as if you’re spitting venom and yet the desires you have are just as wretched,” the man cackled, the shadows behind him growing imposingly large, “face it, their fates are written to be intertwined, how else do you expect to win her then? Parade as human? For how long exactly? You know you cannot overstay in the human world.”

“I saw a spell for partial mortality earlier,” Jake reasoned, startled when the man suddenly reappeared behind him, his long bony fingers gripping Jake’s shoulders, immobilising him from any attempts to run away, “right, at the cost of what Jake? Half of your wings? Entertain me then, how does mortality make you any more attractive to her.”

Jake opened his mouth, ready to answer but found no argument left. He heard the demon scoffing, his slender fingers brushing over Jake’s large wings which had by then turned a weird shade of grey from its original pristine white — symbolising the gradual corruption that had took hold, “in fact all of your converted riches would soon be used up before you can even get an ounce of additional interest from her. She is after all written for him.”

The demon snapped his fingers, reflecting you and Sunghoon at your most intimate moments on a dark pool nearby. It was a picture he had often been fantasising as of late except, the man that was taking you right now wasn't him. Consumed in fury — the emotion of which seemed to have amplified now that he was in the Netherworld — Jake shot his arrow against the reflection, the ripples causing the images to disappear. 

“Ooo, calm down lover boy,” the demon cooed, feigning fear by backing away, “I didn’t just plunge you down the murkiest of depths just to taunt you”.

“Then what?” Jake’s chest heaved in anger.

The demon smirked, suddenly looming larger than life, “there is possibly another way for you-“

“Spit it.”

“Take her away,” the demon suggested almost too lightheartedly, “bring her to this other plane. It's the only way you can fortify against the string that connects them. Wipe her memory clean, keep her preoccupied and just like that, she is all yours."

“But humans shouldn’t live in our realm.”

“Shouldn’t not can’t,” the demon corrected, “though no sooner than you can make love to her will you have the guards on your doorstep, sentencing you to death for breaking laws and ethics.”

Jake’s brows furrowed, "you call that a solution?"

The demon floated towards him, stooping to Jake's height as if wanting to appear as an ally now, "of course not, I'm just laying out all the options for you because I want to make sure that the choices you make are informed."

Jake's brows furrowed, patience wearing thin, "stop with the dramatics. You're a fucking demon, you will never make a deal that would be of the best interest for the other party."

"Well, I can shelter you both in this domain," he gesticulated wildly, "it's the only place that the guards don't venture into." The demon's grin widened as he watched the muscles in Jake's face easing, "told you I am on your side."

Visions of you in Jake's arms swirled in his mind. If he brings you here then indeed nothing else could come in between. Not Sunghoon, not anyone. There would just be him for you and you for him. Jake exhaled sharply, “what’s the catch?”

“Good boy,” the demon cackled, a throne materialising behind him and he sunk on it, “just work for me.”

Jake watched him in confusion as he looked around, wondering what would he need an extra hand for. The demon continued, “your arrows,” he motioned and suddenly his golden arrows turned black, trail of black smoke emanating from it, “use it to sow hatred and chaos. One strike on someone and his darkest desires would amplify to the point of action.”

“You-“ Jake swallowed thickly, the fables of when he was young ringing deafeningly in his head. He had heard of so many tragedies during his lifetime but he didn’t know he’d end up as the very man people cautioned him against: the elites who held the most potential but eventually turning to the dark side. Jake always thought of himself as incorruptible and yet here he was in the Netherworld, about to give up everything just to strike deal with a demon.

As if sensing his hesitancy, the pool nearest to him begin to reflect an image of you and Sunghoon in yet another intimate moment and just like that, something within him snapped. "I'll do it," Jake muttered in a low, yet steady voice, eyes glinting, "but you have to make her mine. Completely mine.”

The shadows that emanated from the demon's robe grew thicker, consuming him, leaving only loud his loud cackes echoing deafeningly throughout the cistern, "deal."

— viii.

You felt Sunghoon's hand seized your wrist, his touch firm as he pulled you onto bed. His lips found yours, tangling it in a passionate kiss, as his body clambered over yours, his touch possessive as he held you captive in his embrace. It took a considerable effort to pull away and break free from his grip which was almost like talons, "Sunghoon, come on now, I'll be back after my run-" you wedged an arm in between, stopping him as he attempted to reclaim your lips again. He sighed, burying his head lazily in the crook of your neck, "do you have to?" he murmured. There was a hint of plead in his voice, "it's not even sunrise yet."

"Exactly," you chirped, "best time to run."

Sunghoon sighed again, his grip reluctantly loosening as he rose from the bed, his hand gently snaking over your back to help you up. He hated letting you go alone for all he wanted was to keep you safe and close, by his side. But if there was anyone who understood you best in the world, it would be him. He knew how much you cherished your independence and freedom and he respected that, willing to give you the space and the alone time that you need, "promise to stick to well-lit and well-trodden paths?" he murmured softly with a gaze that is so soft and tender while his thumbs drew circles on your back, his touch both soothing and protective.

"Always," you reassured him, voice steady and calm.

You got off the bed, Sunghoon trailing closely behind, his hand never leaving yours. Once you had put on your shoes, you tiptoed towards him, planting a kiss on his lips as a reassurance. You could feel him smile into the kiss, his hand gently cradling your nape to stop you from drawing back, wanting to make the moment last longer. "Seriously," you hit him playfully and he captured your hand in his, holding onto it until you slipped out the door, lingering up until the very last moments.

Little did you know that your little kiss — an act you'd rarely initiate — would be your goodbye and little did he know that his reluctance, which was oddly so strong and defied all logics that dawn, was almost like a premonition of the tragedy that would befell you both.

— ix.

When you arrived at the park where you usually run at, you remembered feeling the dread rising. The trail was too foggy, the lights flickering doing nothing but making the whole place looked like a copy of Silent Hill. But you were always so fearless for your good, so you quell your doubts and anxieties — putting them aside as baseless.

Except when you began running, the fog only grew heavier and as you approached a bend, a massive black dog appeared out of nowhere, barking wildly at you. Startled, you veered off the main trail, hoping to outpace the menacing creature. As you hurried, your foot caught on an exposed root, and you stumbled. Before you knew it, you were tumbling down a steep embankment, the world spinning around you in a dizzying blur. You tried to grab onto something, anything, but your descent was swift and uncontrollable. Finally your tumbling ceased, leaving you in a crumpled heap, your body throbbing in pain.

As you lay there, numb and in pain, blinking against the dizziness, you noticed something peculiar about your surroundings. The familiar pine forest had transformed into a grove of ancient trees, their massive trunks reaching high into the sky. The sky, starless and moonless, was bathed in an eerie shade of dark blue as if suspended at dawn.

A sense of unease washed over you as you realized something was amiss. The air was heavy and thick with an aura of mysticism with an eerie silence enveloping the forest. You knew instinctively that something was wrong, and the urge to flee began to stir within you. But as you tried to gather your bearings and rise to your feet, your head began to reel, and your eyelids grew heavier. It was as if an unseen force was lulling you into a deep slumber.

You fought against the encroaching darkness, but your efforts were in vain and the last thing you remembered before your world turned black was a huge mass of shadow drawing nearer, its presence filling you with dread.

— x.

You woke with a start, your heart pounding in your chest as the familiar nightmare plagued your sleep once again. The dream was always the same—a black mist enveloping you as you ran, the sense of something sinister chasing you through the darkness. You sat up, burying your face in your hands, when you feel the space on the bed beside you dip. You feel a strong hand wrapped around your waist, its body curled protectively around yours. You feel him bury his face at the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses against it to calm you down. You turned your head, "Jake..." you whispered softly, meeting his warm gaze.

"Nightmares again?" he asked, voice soft and concerned, "you know dreams are just the Devil's plaything."

"Yes but-" you struggled to find the words, your mind still clouded with the remnants of the nightmare. Before you could say more, Jake hauled you onto his lap, his lips claiming yours in a passionate kiss, stealing your breath and your thoughts away. It was a kiss that made you forget the nightmare, a kiss that always felt like the first, no matter how many times he had kissed you before.

His hands roved hungrily over your back, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume all rational thoughts. You kissed him back, surrendering to his passion, feeling him press forward, his lips parting yours with a gentle urgency as his head tilted to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking yours. The kiss consumed you, sweeping away the remnants of the nightmare and replacing it with a different kind of darkness—one that was intoxicating and exhilarating. You finally managed to catch your breath when he began trailing kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at certain spots, marking you as his own, claiming your skin with a possessiveness that sent a thrill through you. You could feel his desire, his need, and it only fueled your own.

Jake could himself hardly believe the moment would ever come: of him being able to call you his, of him being able to hold you close, of you actually reciprocating his love and touch. But indeed, this had become his every day now. Yet still, he could never get enough of you, wanting to imprint every touch, every kiss, onto your skin. You could feel yourself about to fully lose yourself to the overwhelming intensity of his touch when your eyes drifted to the window behind the bed, where the grove of ancient trees stretched as far as the horizon.

"Those ancient trees outside—" you stammered, trying to fight the overwhelming sensations, "it kept on haunting me in my dreams. Like a memory—" your voice trailed off as you felt yourself thrown back against the mattress, Jake hovering over you, his eyes burning with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You know you can't go out there," his voice was calm but there was an unmistakable warning in his voice, an edge to his tone that you hadn't heard before, "it's too dangerous."

You opened your mouth to protest, to ask why he always cautioned you against venturing into the forest, but any form of protest was muffled by another searing kiss. This kiss was different, hungrier, more primal, making you breathless and weak in the knees. "You're only safe with me y/n," he muttered in between kisses, "you're mine after all," his hips pressed against yours, his hands slipping under your shirt, making you shudder.

Jake had always been gentle towards you so the aggressive and almost primal way in which he was taking you right now was making you feel uncomfortable. The warning bells in your head rang faintly, but the sensations he elicited drowned them out. His kiss was like a drug, clouding your judgment and leaving you helpless to resist. As you felt him press you further into the mattress, your hands instinctively tangled in his hair, pulling him close, your body responding to his touch with a will of his own. Just like the clothing that were shed one by one, any remnants of doubt and hesitation begin to disappear. The morning after, you would wake up as if this castle had always been your home, as if this bed had always been the one you slept on, as if Jake had always been the love of your life.

But sometimes, when the nightmare comes, striking the deepest fear in your heart, a flash of images would surge through your mind, offering a glimpse of another life. Through it all, one constant remained — a man. His face was unclear, his features blurred by the haze of dreams, but his presence loomed large, leaving you with a sense of longing and an ache in your heart that you couldn't quite explain. It was as if your soul recognized him, even if your conscious mind could not recall his name or his face. The man may not possess Jake's gentle and warm nature but he oddly felt so safe. Like home. In fact it weirdly occurred to you that even if you didn't know him, you felt like you'd run towards him on instinct if you were made to choose between him and Jake — as if he's a sanctuary.

But then you wake up, and your heart would pound from the terror of being chased while your heart ached from what felt like loss and longing. While the terror would eventually dissipate throughout the day, the ache lingered, as if a void had opened up within you. That's why you always surrendered to Jake eventually for only it was under his soothing words and tantalizing touch could you fill the void and the quiet of yearning.

Until the next nightmare strikes.

a/n: damn writing the goodbye with Sunghoon made me ache lol. Hope you like this one. I actually enjoyed writing this one even though it did took quite some time to finalise. No, there won't be a Part 2 because I suck at writing continuations lol. And yes, there will be a Part 4 for Dancing with the Devil but patience friends.

>>> | Masterlist |

[tyrantisterror]

The Fuck's Up With Mammon?

Ok, so, in the grand history of Christian folklore, there are dozens of different ways that the society of Hell and its various demons can be structured. One of the most popular is The Seven Princes of Hell, which divides Hell between seven ruling demons, each of which represents the seven deadly sins (and is opposed by saints who represent the seven heavenly virtues). It's fun because it's got a solid theological theme and not too many working parts - seven is a more digestible number than nine or, like, however the fuck your sort out all the demons in the Lesser Key of Solomon, each of which has some arbitrary number of legions of demon soldiers under their command, and the deadly sins theme gives you a clear way to make each prince's domain stand out.

(Obviously I'm a bit biased here, since I used a modified version of the Seven Princes of Hell for my own story about demons, but still, I think the point stands.)

Now, who the seven princes of Hell are can differ. Binsfield, the guy who coined the name, lists them as follows:

Lucifer, Prince of Pride

Mammon, Prince of Greed

Asmodeus, Prince of Lust

Leviathan, Prince of Envy

Beelzebub, Prince of Gluttony

Satan, Prince of Wrath

Belphegor, Prince of Sloth

However, there are earlier versions of the seven princes that rearrange things. Beelzebub has been given the sin of Envy at times, Belphegor has been given gluttony, and both Belial and Abaddon/Apollyon have taken the role of prince of Sloth. With me so far?

Right, ok, so here's the thing: ALL of these demons have shit going on in folklore outside of their role as potential princes of Hell. Well, all except one. To wit:

Lucifer, despite being a translation error, quickly became the front-runner in the grand race of "Who is THE Devil in the Bible, i.e. the leader of Hell itself?" It helps that said translation error was made by King James in his version of the Bible, which, while a terrible translation, is an amazing piece of poetry in its own right and beloved by many Christians because of it. Notably, Lucifer is The Devil of Paradise Lost, which is up there with Dante's The Divine Comedy in being one of the most important and influential depictions of Hell of all time.

Beelzebub is one of the oldest demons in all of demonology, predating Christianity itself, and is pretty close to Lucifer in the race for "Who is THE Devil," with arguably a better claim to the position despite Lucifer being the more popular candidate for the role.

Satan gets kudos for being one of the few devils that's ACTUALLY named in the Bible... even if it's less a name in context and more a title akin to "prosecuting attorney." Because of that, he's arguably got the greatest claim to being The Devil, and in most works where a different devil gets the title, Satan is treated as one of his alternate titles anyway.

Asmodeus was set up in folklore to be The Devil, and has a pretty strong claim to the title because of that. He's also clearly what Dante based his description of the devil's physical appearance on, with his three different colored heads and all, and that gives him some major props.

Leviathan is also a rare demon who gets mentioned in the Bible, although in the Bible it's pretty clear he's not a demon but rather a big sea monster, and a lot of Christian folklore treats him as such instead of as a demon. So that's a pretty big "other thing going on" for him - sometimes he's not even a demon, but more of a godzilla.

Belphegor was mentioned in a good number of texts predating the concept of arranging demons by the seven deadly sins, and while he was mostly a minor demon (akin to most of the other residents of the Lesser Key of Solomon, like Shax or Marchosias or what have you), that's still something. Becoming a Prince of Hell gave him a greater claim to fame, but still, he had a career before it.

Abaddon/Apollyon is one of those demons whose name is ALSO a synonym for Hell itself, which is a pretty big deal. He can be a demon, or he can be hell, or he can be BOTH, like in the takes where Hell has a literal mouth to swallow sinners and is portrayed as kind of a living monster in its own right. He also got to be The Devil in Pilgrim's Progress, and that's pretty cool.

Belial is one of the absolute earliest demons, having been cast as The Devil in the Book of Enoch, which is kind of the O.G. Abrahamic demon story (as much as any written story could be the source of it, anyway). Thus, while Belial may not have the most popular claim to being The Devil, he arguably has the best claim to it, or at least the earliest. Also, Belial is just as often depicted as a lady demon as he is a male demon, which means Belial is the best candidate for a Princess of Hell.

But that leaves... Mammon. And as far as I can tell in all my research, Mammon's claim to fame is and has always been being the Demon of Greed. Like Lucifer, his existence is owed to a translation of the Bible personifying something that was not originally a person - "mammon" was just supposed to mean money and other material wealth, but then it became, well, Mammon, the demonic personification of Greed.

He's the demon who was made for his sin, rather than being given it after his creation. The only demon whose existence purely hinges on needing a personification of a sin, the only one who has no other shit going on. Lucifer, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, they all have rich histories as demons in folklore, but Mammon? He's just greed.

And that's weird to me. Were there no other, more popular demons who could embody the concept? How does Mammon feel having nothing else to him beyond his sin? It's kinda weird, right?

I've got no greater point to this, I just thought it'd be fun to share.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I don’t know if you’ve already covered this, but I had a question to ask about the VDC in Book 5. To clarify, I understand that RSA needed to win for thematic and character arc purposes, and that in-lore it was an audience vote not a professional one. The story beats line up. But the choice of cutesy and childlike RSA performance over the more refined and professional NRC performance still doesn’t quite click with me. Is there some kind of cultural difference that didn’t translate to explain why one performance was supposed to be understood as preferred over the other? Even if it was an audience vote, the standards should be higher just by virtue of this being a big name competition for teenagers held at a prestigious school.

Very quickly, I want to add a couple other points that help to explain why RSA won over NRC! Book 6 opens early on with Vil noting that NRC was not able to perform as well as they wanted to since they had just come out of a difficult battle against his OB form. (Because of this, he accepts responsibility for their loss.) Thus, the NRC performance may not have actually been as "refined", "professional", or as polished as we imagine it to be.

Additionally, it’s stated in book 5 that RSA’s song choice had universal appeal whereas NRC’s did not. We see this effect on the production crew when Neige and the Seven Dwarves do their practice run; their performance has a refreshing and soothing effect on what appears to be an older audience (as it plays to their nostalgia); we must consider this when evaluating RSA and NRC. For example, I know that I really disliked NRC's performance (sue me/j) because it sounded very oppressive and therefore unrelatable to me. The lyrics are literally about how NRC will dominate their opponents and win 😭 Sure, the music and lyrics for Neige's song aren't complex, but they're at the very least accessible and easy to follow along with. (That's not to say that I prefer RSA's performance though; I'm just explaining why someone might not find NRC's performance appealing.)

Lastly! We as players are looking at the two song + dance numbers from an omniscient perspective. We need to consider our own biases when judging, and accept that it may differ from the characters in-universe view things. Maybe you prefer NRC’s performance. That’s fair! But how much of that is informed by your personal music preferences? And how much of that comes from your attachment to the NRC characters, since you’ve followed their stories up until this point? As Rook points out in book 5, he’s aware of how hard NRC has worked to get here… but he’s also aware of Neige’s hardships too (er, in terms of his lifestyle; ie living with the dwarves and doing chores, etc.). Consider then, would you honestly not have a bias for RSA had Twisted Wonderland’s story centered on them instead of NRC?

It’s also worth noting that how things are seen in Twisted Wonderland may reflect its own unique culture rather than how we in the real world may perceive it. Maybe the people of Twisted Wonderland just prefer a cute, nostalgic performance. This may not necessarily correlate with west or east at all and that has always been a possibility! (While TWST does take inspirations from the real world, it’s not a 1:1 with the real world.)

dkhlbaiyfadvfoad Okay, NOW onto the actual question being pitched!

When you look at media from different countries, there are some stark differences in how the same information is presented. One example is like... any Gordon Ramsay show yes, I am using him as an example. Compare the American cut and the British cuts; there are much more loud sound effects, dramatic music, yelling, and cussing in the American cuts. The British cuts, by comparison, are notably quieter and contemplative, with hardly any cursing. Another example! Looking at variety shows from the east vs the west, they're quite different as well. Eastern variety shows tend to be "cute", usually using various cute sound effects or edits which make the guests appear more bashful (like drawing blush over their cheeks or something). We don't see this in western TV shows, which are louder and more boisterous. I've noticed a similar trend in the music industries of the east vs the west as well, where eastern stars tend to emphasize their youthfulness and playfulness and western stars try to be more "mature" and grown-up. These are just my personal observations and may not reflect reality, especially seeing as I am not involved in music-oriented spaces.

I asked friends and personal contacts in both eastern and western pop music fandom spaces for their own insights (which is also in no way representative of both fandoms, but at least this gives us other perspectives for consideration). To summarize, most of them replied that they did not think cultural differences account for this situation, since equating a preference for a "cute" aesthetic is not the same as RSA performing what is basically a nursery rhyme. There's no real-world equivalent for that (at least none that they can think of), and I agree with all of this. There’s really no point in trying to compare the two.

I remember lots of Japanese fans being upset at NRC’s loss too (when book 5’s ending was first put out), so the impression I got was they didn’t prefer the performance of RSA over NRC either. It was not just the international fandom that was disappointed. I don’t believe TWST ever intentionally set out to present “Everyone Yahoo!” as the “superior” song and dance number, or as the performance we’re supposed to like more than the other. It was very much framed as something pathetic and unlikely to win in most of the eyes of the NRC characters. They make fun of RSA’s clumsiness and claim it’ll be easy to win over them. The player most likely is supposed to think this way too—until Vil, the one with an eye for showbiz, realizes his loss. Why? Because it doesn’t matter what we think. What matters is how this clumsy performance will resonate with the common person.

What I think it ultimately comes down to is emotional appeal to the audience, which is more of a personal/individual level thing than a cultural thing. The competition is decided by audience vote. The average person honestly does not care about quality or standards. No one is giving them rules to evaluate by, no one is going to tell them off for not having strict standards. They will pick based on what they like best or whatever makes them feel good. And what will make anyone feel food, regardless of age, sex, race, education, socioeconomic status, etc.? Something cozy and familiar, thoughts of simpler times… Nostalgia.

Something else to think about is what a powerful motivator emotions can be. There are irl idol competition shows that are high stakes and decided by audience vote just like VDC/SDC… and people will still vote for their favorites even if they gave a technically bad performance. This is because fans are so emotionally invested in and attached to the performer. It doesn’t matter how “bad” they are, the performer/performance makes the audience member feel impassioned, and they will then act according to those intense feelings. Think about what you’re like when you’re in a terrible mood vs a good one. You act completely differently, right?

I hope that perspective helps! 🙏 I tried to be as thorough as I could be in this response, but please let me know if I misspoke or maybe missed a point.

P.S. I happen to be responding to this ask after TWST showed us the NRC Tribe’s dance performance in a MMD video. I wonder if this only made the “NRC should have own” crowd double down on that opinion since now we’re seeing just what their performance looks like 🤔 (though we don’t have a complete MMD video of Neige’s group to directly compare, just this which shows part of the dance and not in the same clumsy way that Neige and co. perform it).

[hier--soir]

may + june + july reads

the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde by r. l. stevenson [★★★★]

"Though so profound a double-dealer, I was in no sense a hypocrite; both sides of me were in dead earnest; I was no more myself when I laid aside restraint and plunged in shame, than when I laboured, in the eye of day, at the furtherance of knowledge or the relief of sorrow and suffering."

: ̗̀➛ a london lawyer, mr utterson, investigates strange occurrences between his old friend dr henry jekyll, and the evil edward hyde.

: ̗̀➛ a horror classic! coming in at a sweet 96-pages, it was easy to smash out in an evening. and despite the brevity of the text and the fact that it's over a century old, i found it insanely compelling and indeed pretty chilling at multiple points.

: ̗̀➛ there are some ridiculously funny lines in this. i believe he named the evil character hyde just so he could drop this banger: "'If he be Mr. Hyde,' he had thought, 'I shall be Mr. Seek.'"

: ̗̀➛ henry jekyll my sweet summer child, you flew way too close to the sun with this shit.

: ̗̀➛ "You must suffer me to go my own dark way." BARS.

babel: an arcane history by r. f. kuang [★★★★★]

"The poet runs untrammelled across the meadow. The translator dances in shackles."

: ̗̀➛ opening in the year 1828, a young boy from canton is orphaned by cholera and brought to london by a mysterious professor. he is trained in latin, ancient greek, and chinese, in preparation for the day he will attend oxford university's royal institute of translation - babel. the tower is the world's center for translation and silver-working, the magical craft that has so far brought unrivalled power to the british and supports the empire's ongoing colonisation of the world. but what happens when it is discovered that britain is pursuing an unjust war against china, and robin realises that serving babel means betraying his motherland.

: ̗̀➛ this book left me absolutely speechless. upon starting it i was immediately ashamed at how long it had taken me to pick this up considering all the hype. serious thanks to @seventeenpins for recommending this to me recently, you are the best for putting me onto this.

: ̗̀➛ beautifully crafted, incredibly intelligent, great central characters. i don't even know how to put into words what i felt about this one. and as someone who consumes a fair amount of translated literature [see: my love of ancient greek and roman classics] it tickled my interest around the biases and intricacy of translation so perfectly. you need to read it. please.

: ̗̀➛ have to include: "It should have been distressing. In truth, Robin found it was actually quite easy to put up with any degree of social unrest, as long as one got used to looking away."

: ̗̀➛ have to include #2: "So then where does that leave us? How can we conclude, except by acknowledging that an act of translation is then necessarily always an act of betrayal?"

: ̗̀➛ and absolutely cannot not include this iconic PBS diss: "He greatly enjoyed Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, though he could not say the same of the poems by her less talented husband, whom he found overly dramatic."

paradise rot by jenny hval [★★★★]

"But my dreams are full of apples, and in the dark my body slowly transforms into fruit: tonsils shrinking to seeds and lungs to cores. I dream of white flowers blossoming under my nails, as if under ice. Then my nails break, opening up like clams and in the finger flesh there are little sticky fruit pearls."

: ̗̀➛ jo is in a strange new country for university, living in a house with no walls, a roommate with no boundaries, and a home that seems increasingly more and more alive.

: ̗̀➛ so much piss in this one folks.

: ̗̀➛ jenny hval is a norwegian musician and this was her debut novel, and it was bizarre and haunting and disgusting and made me cringe and feel squeamish at many points, and yet i read it in one fell swoop. it grips you for 120-odd pages and when you're done it feels like you've been spit out disoriented.

mrs s by k. patrick [★★★]

"When she is not around, I invent her. When she is around, I invent her. It is not her fault."

: ̗̀➛ an australian butch lesbian travels to england to work in an elite boarding school, where she meets mrs s, the headmaster's wife. over a hot, restless summer, the two engage in an affair.

: ̗̀➛ i enjoyed this one decently enough. the writing style grew a bit tiresome, and the storyline seemed quite laissez-faire, but overall yes i enjoyed it. what can also grow tiresome for me is the woman-on-woman affair when one of them is married to a man - but maybe i've just read too much queer lit with no foreseeable happy ending lately, idk.

: ̗̀➛ the way the dialogue was structured [or perhaps, unstructured to a painful extent] was not my cup of tea at all.

: ̗̀➛ i was really tickled by her living in an annexe so close to the school nurse, who is very religious. the dynamic gave way to great passages like this: "I imagine her, at night, sending prayers my way, so sweet as to be malicious. In each of our interactions there is always the feeling that I would do better under her God. I don't mind her God, so tangible. The sexy Jesus in her bedroom. His body I too would die to have. Not just the chest but the legs, a footballer's legs, complex with muscle. Even those sad, raised palms. Brazen in their injuries. Such glamour." like hello??? incredible.

grey dog by elliott gish [★★★★]

"You called me a dirty little beast, and I have become as dirty and beastly a woman as there ever was."

"What is that quote from Othello, what Emilia says about men? They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full, they belch us."

: ̗̀➛ a 'literary horror novel' set in 1901 about the unmarried and almost 30 'spinster' ada byrd who accepts a teaching post in a small isolated town. she wants to be rid of her past, one 'riddled with grief and shame', but upon witnessing strange and grisly sights, ada begins to believe that something ancient and beastly is behind all the peculiarities in this little town. her confusion deepens, and ada's grip on what is reality, delusion, or traumatic memory, begins to blur and fail.

: ̗̀➛ body horror, gore, the horrors of being a woman, witchy business, descent into madness, women longing for women.

: ̗̀➛ because the entire text is written in first person diary entries, i found that it sometimes failed to establish a creepy atmosphere. although this issue was more prominent for me in the first half, while in the second half the diary entries acted as a great insight as to how unhinged she was becoming. slay.

: ̗̀➛ imo this is simply what happens to a woman when she is raised by a heinous father and ends up an adult surrounded by too many sexy older women!

the sleepwalkers by scarlett thomas [★★★]

"How many eyes can one storm have?"

: ̗̀➛ still reeling from the chaos of their wedding, evelyn and richard arrive on a tiny greek island for their honeymoon. it's the end of the season and a storm is brewing on the horizon. they check into the villa rosa, which has a peculiar owner named isabella, and everyone wants to talk about the famous sleepwalkers, a couple who stayed at the hotel recently and drowned.

: ̗̀➛ saw a tagline that coined this as 'patricia highsmith meets white lotus' and i'd agree. good mystery thriller with some action.

: ̗̀➛ this one was a touch slow at first [it's told in letters, dictated audio recordings, from different perspectives, etc] but ultimately gripped me and i thoroughly enjoyed the drama and mystery. newlyweds that hate each other's guts? yeah, bestie, i need to know why.

: ̗̀➛ i really got into some of the takes showing how evelyn and richard viewed each other. this really stuck with me: "I read infrequently, partly because every book change me, right down the level of my DNA. I didn't want to be changed so often. But you were able to hoover up contemporary culture without so much as a little belch afterwards. You just carried on being you."

: ̗̀➛ also let me fucking tell you, there was a line in this book that made me drop my kindle and GUFFAW in shock. page 88, HELLO. evelyn girl you kill me.

the drift by c. j. tudor [★★★]

"These days death had been laid bare for what it really was. An ending. Often brutal, seldom fair, rarely kind."

: ̗̀➛ a thriller-esque, horror-esque book about a deadly infectious virus, and the attempted survival of three seperate groups trapped in isolated circumstances in the icy wilderness. [this one is so hard to describe sorry]

: ̗̀➛ the book is told through three different pov's. i normally despise this but i actually didn't hate it in this case, although i did have favourites.

: ̗̀➛ boyfriend asked me to read this when he finished it and then watched me from across the room the almost whole time, pretending not to be staring whenever i looked up. and he was right, it was fast-paced, had some good twists and turns, and was enjoyable, albeit very different from what i normally read.

what have i done? an honest memoir about surviving post-natal mental illness by laura dockrill [★★★★]

"Put me out of my misery. I feel like a killer on the loose. I need to turn myself in."

"Or the one of New Mum having champagne and cake with the girls. Another doing 'date night' two weeks before her six-week check, like, 'Yes, we still have sex!' Mum is fitting back into her clothes; Mum is making papier-mâché piggy banks; drinking enough water; shaving her armpits; reading a bedtime story; going to a gig; playing peekaboo. Mum is keeping up with her favourite TV shows; reading the Booker longlist; being a good friend; making a healthy yet tasty cost-effective-probably-vegan meal; recycling; giving baby massage; sterilising. Mum is getting rid of her pregnancy knickers when they are the only knickers she truly likes; doing her taxes; walking the dog; donating to charity; freezing bananas; learning Japanese because why not? ... Oh look! Mum is abseiling down the Shard and still finding the time to express and write a blog about the whole experience."

: ̗̀➛ a memoir about a first-time mum's experience with post-partum psychosis, and her survival.

: ̗̀➛ this book was a heart-ache of a read. honest and raw and devastating and uplifting. often very very funny -- "People told Hugo, 'Don't go down the goal end, mate; it's like watching your favourite pub burn down.' Oh ha. Ha. Ha." -- i couldn't put it down.

: ̗̀➛ the end did start to feel a touch self-helpy which isn't necessarily my bag of tricks when it comes to non-fiction, but those inclusions felt warranted and fair after such an in-depth depiction of everything laura had gone through.

: ̗̀➛ serious mental health trigger warnings for this one. there is plenty of humour, but it gets very dark.

the death of jane lawrence by caitlin starling [★★]

"She dreamed of tearing out a rotted pit inside of him where his martyrdom resided."

: ̗̀➛ in an alternate version of victorian-era britain, jane shoringfield is seeking a marriage of convenience that will allow her to continue working, with all the benefits of being a married woman, and she finds this in dr augustine lawrence. however, he has one condition - she can never visit lindridge hall, his family manor outside of town, where he himself will sleep each and every night. but on their wedding night, an accident strands jane at the door in a rainstorm, and in place of her husband she finds a terrified, paranoid man who cannot tell reality from nightmare. by morning he is himself again, but jane knows something is terribly wrong at lindridge hall.

: ̗̀➛ i picked this up looking for a fun, spooky little read, but am sad to say that i absolutely did not like it. the characters were fickle, the plot twists were unsurprising and revealed poorly, and the storyline was all over the place. sadge!

: ̗̀➛ sold itself as a gothic ghost horror, but didn't live up to that at all [for me!] heavily inspired by crimson peak, and it doesn't care if you know it.

: ̗̀➛ also - when your 'independent strong female' mc marries a guy who lies constantly and makes up bullshit and every time she confronts him he boo-hoos so she forgives him immediately cause he really is a nice man?? womp womp.

: ̗̀➛ also also - way more cocaine in this than i expected.

my book rating system is as follows:

★ = i felt pure contempt the entire time

★★ = yeah it's a book

★★★ = i liked it!

★★★★ = good fucking book, damn

★★★★★ = blew my dick clean off and i'll throw a tantrum if everyone i know doesn't also read it and love it

if you want to share a book you love with me, please do! i am always looking out for new recs.

[dootznbootz]

Me: Almost done listening to the Iliad on audiobook, and planning to listen to the Odyssey next

Me: Goes on youtube to find a quick summary to listen to before hand

Me: Clicks on a promising video

Video, in the first 30 seconds: Haha he cheats on his wife!

Me, in a bad mood now, even though I should have seen that coming: Never-fucking-mind, then

Yep. ;~;

Quick tip for ya: Honestly don't trust really ANY "Youtube" summary of it. Especially the ones where they are mostly trying to be "entertaining" and/or "funny" instead of educational. Also they mostly likely won't be "respectful".

I'm not saying this as a "don't trust any academic source! Historians are evil!!!" I'm saying this as a "there are very biased and very opinionated folks out there and I recommend going over multiple sources just for you to get your own opinion formed on it as well!".

I mean...Madeline Miller?

And you know what? I'll vent about how much I hate Robert Graves' takes on Greek Myth. >:(

I once got an old used book about mythology by Robert Graves and I was excited to read it! But it was genuinely just...so fucking MEAN. Insulting to stories, calling them stupid, flip-flopping on "Goodhearted" to "malicious". It seems like he was a bit more of a critic and/or thought his "headcanons" as "fact". (I say this as someone who has many headcanons and gets real silly with it. At a certain point though, YOU GOTTA STATE THE FACTSSS)

An example from it: (talking about Menelaus and Helen's marriage) "Yet their marriage was doomed to failure: years before, while sacrificing to the gods, Tyndareus had stupidly overlooked Aphrodite, who took her revenge by swearing to make all three of his daughters--Clytemnestra, Timandra, and Helen--notorious for their adultries"

Very much dislikes Odysseus, (like holy crap, even his good deeds are said mockingly) while he seems to "like" Menelaus, still calls him stupid. Seems to really like Paris?? like "Oh yeah, he needed Aphrodite to help him steal a woman who didn't love him but he's just a guyyy~"

"Athen now inspired Prylis, son of Hermes, to suggest that entry should be gained into Troy by means of a wooden horse; Epeius, son of Panopeus, a Phocian from Parnassus, volunteered to build one under Athene's supervision. Afterwards, of course, Odysseus claimed all the credit for the Stratagem"

He implies Helen and Odysseus possibly having romantics when he sneaks into Troy to steal the Palladium. Implies Odysseus made up Cassandra's rape by Lesser Ajax, as "Cassandra did not support the charge".

"Little Ajax's alleged violation of Cassandra was dismissed by reputable mythographers as an Odyssean lie"

Implies that Odysseus was only angry about Pallamedes embarrassing him, NOT BECAUSE HE NEARLY KILLED HIS BABY AND MADE HIM GO TO WAR. He implies "Icarius' daughter (Penelope)" to be another "victim" (???) of Odysseus? He also kissed poor Calypso goodbye and seems determined to never talk about how much Odysseus cares about his family. only that he wants to go home, Penelope being an afterthought.

This is a "Greek Mythology book"...and yet it's biased as fuck. :/

And ofc, people deny Odysseus being a victim.. Obviously there is sexism at play here, with the "Oh Odysseus loved it! He was getting laid!" despite being held at PigPoint and literally getting fucking raped and crying everyday. ;~; it's very disheartening and honestly disturbing.

Honestly I recommend reading/listening to at least 2 (or more) to try and get a "full picture" as just like Madeline Miller and Robert Graves, there are biases in each one. (Emily Wilson is very biased for example) Some of them while favorable toward Odysseus, also favor Circe and Calypso. Some mock Menelaus and Helen. It depends.

Like I've read 8 translations of the Odyssey (I like it :3 you don't have to be insane like me though. <3 ) and all basically say the same thing with the Goddesses as "It was not a good time. He adores Penelope."

Two or three is probably enough, and that's also if you just wanna know if there's any differences between events based on the translator. so sometimes if you wanna know the differences in wording (as some translations have very cute wording) you can just find that part in the Odyssey that you are curious to see if there are differences. :)

I hope you have fun!

[wordsmithic]

hello ! I have seen your post about greek mythology and its mischaracterization by westerners and i had some questions (im really sorry if it sounds offensive or ignorant i come in good faith). But why would a modern day greek be useful for writing about ancient greece and its culture ? Wouldnt the modern and ancient culture of greece change a lot because of the 2 millenia gap, christianization and ottoman domination ?

First of all, as Greeks and the living descendants and members of the Greek culture, we have the right to define how our heritage is presented and to have our voices heard in Greek cultural matters.

Secondly, Greeks are in very close contact with our heritage and ancient culture because we have been actively preserving it for more than 2 millennia.

We are still speaking the same language - with reasonable alterations but clearly still Greek with the same words, roots and logic. We can comfortably read and understand texts from 1000 and 2000 years ago - Koine Greek. Our customs, music, and ideas of respect for elders, heroes, important deities and heroes hold from the ancient years.

Christianity changed our religion, not our customs. Not even the structure of our temples. In fact, the anthropocentric Greek philosophy was and is part of our religion, Greek Orthodoxy.

The Ottomans made us second-class citizens and tried to wipe us out but we persisted, opening schools with our own money and surviving cultural and literal genocide.

We have a very strong archaeological sector, a ton of scholars and students who study our antiquity, and an archaeological museum in every town.

Additionally, we get educated since elementary school on the intended meaning of the myths. Since middle school (Gymnasio) we read and analyze our ancient Epics and ancient plays with graduates from classical and Greek literature studies as teachers. We also learn a version of ancient Greek, of course, from the first class of Gymnasio, when we are 12-13.

In addition, we know what happened in the years between polytheist antiquity and modern times. For most foreigners, this is a black box and they have no idea what happened to Greek culture. But we are taking exams on it.

(We study each period of our history three times during school. One in elementary, one in middle school, and one in high school). Kids who choose the Theoritiki domain learn even more and sharpen their skills enough so they compete for university entry at 17-18 years old by translating an ancient text they've never encountered before in class. (You can imagine how much study this needs, and how much consumption of ancient texts so one can prepare)

It is totally unreasonable to expect a culture to remain unchanged throughout the centuries. Not a single culture is like this. Evolution and change happens to every culture, and yet it remains a specific culture. It wouldn't be fair to deny all the ancient nations around the world the right to cultural continuation. It's just that some people cannot fathom generation after generation passing out their culture to others, but it is true in the case of the Greeks.

For someone like me who has a Greek heritage, there is an unbroken chain of Greeks all the way back to antiquity, who got passed down the Greek culture from someone else. (blood doesn't matter, just culture) The wishes, ideas, needs, and philosophy of that culture got passed from person to person, got evolved or changed based on what other Greeks wanted, or based on whatever influences were around at the time, and then got passed down to the next Greek.

In short, Greeks have this constant exposure to the wishes of the Greek people and the wisdom of our scholars early on, and the very nature of our continuous culture allows us to understand the context for many things. There are no dead Greeks you can speak to, so you can speak to the closest ancestor: a living Greek.

Scholars are also fine, of course, but when they are foreign they can have their biases or blind spots. I remember a post about Emily Wilson who translated the phrase "he is precious like my head" without taking into account how we use such phrases in Greek. To a Greek it's very obvious how this phrase is used and the context supports it. But Wilson didn't know this, so she guessed a few meanings based on a guess, guided by her own culture. I don't think Wilson's guess is better than the guess of a Greek scholar or a Greek person. Personally, I'd take more into account the opinion of the person from the native culture just because of the linguistic and cultural proximity.

Finally, in all nations, some Greeks don't care too much about their culture, but on the flipside there are many Greeks who care about it and are very knowledgeable. Both types of Greeks cringe heavily every time they see an American movie on Greek mythology, though 😂

Westerners have proven since the Middle Ages that they are viewing us under specific lends. They like to give us identities based on what they feel comfortable with, never asking our opinion or POV. So much so that when they encounter actual Greek culture they have no idea what it is. They have a separate idea in their heads and, based on that, they insist that they are the inheritors of our past. They've been calling us all sorts of names since the time of Charlamagne, viewed us through orientalist lens, sent people to loot our ancient sites again and again, called us too brown, called us too white, called us ignorant and uneducated, unable to care for our heritage, and - of course - "not real Greeks". The misconception, exoticization and sense of ownership of the Greek culture in the West have extremely deep roots.

This is a grave generalization and not directed to each individual. I'm just saying that there's history and literature just too large to ignore. No, I am not going to trust Westerners the same degree as I trust Greeks for the same reason an Indian would prefer to showcase their culture through another Indian text or person, and not by a Brit, or the same way a Native American would not trust the descendant of Spanish, German and Welsh people to showcase Native culture.

[israaverse]

Do you have some good recommendations on learning about the Canaanite deites?

Hi there!

This may not be a satisfying answer and, trust me, I'm right with you. Like all* pantheons there is no strict 'canon' but I'd say the things to understand the very basics would be The Baal Cycle and the Epic of Aqhat. Both are incomplete texts and the tablets are not in any known order so it's difficult to decipher them. Other than that, there's not really much. Each translation has its own issues (I'm personally not a fan of those that translate Anat's epithet of 'virgin' into 'adolescent' and anything else suggesting a goddess of sexual fertility would be a prepubescent child) and any other supplementary information I would use my own judgement to be judicial about. Also, due to regional and religious politics, you have to be quite judicial about what sources and opinions you put stock in. For instance, I personally wouldn't give a shit about what the Old Testament and Philo of Byblos have to say abt the Canaanites and their gods because any sources resulting from them have political incentive to slander and badmouth. Any other secondary or tertiary source or blog post has to be taken with quite the large grain of salt, as the Canaanites have a bad habit of being used for chauvinist or nationalist rhetoric. I myself am Palestinian and Muslim so I have my own biases, it's just good to stay aware of what baggage people are bringing into something like this.

Another good place to start would be the Egyptian city of Avaris/Awaris and the Hyksos Dynasty of the Second Intermediate Period. I just finished a loooong final essay about the xenophobia politic surrounding them HOWEVER it seems that "eastern" religion had been established in Egypt long before and continued long after the SEP. My favorite fun fact about this is that Ramesses ii named his first daughter Bint-Anat (Daughter of Anat) and depicted himself as married to Anat so theres bound to be a but about the pantheon immortalized there.

Best of luck and happy reading!

[tododeku-or-bust]

Hi there! I thought your post about fandom antiblackness was really insightful! However, it also left me with a question I was hoping you might be able to answer. Number 45 under the general experiences section mentions characters being made Black but "acting and talking like white people" (paraphrased). This definitely seems like it'd be frustrating, but I was wondering if you had any recommendations for creating/writing Black characters that feel Black as a non-Black person while avoiding stereotyping or making a caricature unintentionally.

Well first, shameless self plug: you could always follow @creatingblackcharacters to learn different ways via fun and thorough lessons to create your Black characters with intention-that is, thinking about how to create Black characters rather than characters that happen to be "Black"! 👍🏾🤯🎉😁

Plug aside, I mean.... Black people are people. So write us as people. We're not some different species that are not understandable or that need to be translated into another language lol. We have feelings and go through shit too- we can be anywhere y'all can be lol.

But if your major concern is writing Black people that aren't caricatures, one important thing is to read and watch stories created by Black people, starring Black people! If you're in fandom and you wanna write that Black character in more depth, read Black fic writers' works on that Black character! Follow Black bloggers and creators! By knowing how WE write us, you can learn how to appropriately write us!

Also, to really get into the depth of the concepts of stereotypes and antiblack racist caricatures, do some self guided reading into what exist historically. There are plenty of books and i'm sure YouTube videos that would go into the details. White Tears, Brown Scars by Ruby Hamad is an excellent one that i think breaks down EVERYBODY'S stereotypes and how they're enforced in media (and in society). You kind of just have to be willing to get uncomfortable, because you'll probably end up checking your own biases at some point during them. That's where you realize you're doing the learning!

Hope this helps 👍🏾

[ultfreakme]

I saw a lot of people saying Higurama should've been there in the double page spread instead of Junpei where Yuuji is recalling people who had a lot of impact on him. The argument being, Yuuji knew Junpei for one day whereas he knew Higurama for a month. As a Junpei girlie in the year of our lord 2024, that makes me biased but I want to tackle this properly and explain why Junpei was there instead of anyone else.

Yuuji's ideas on the value of life and death

Yuuji was not randomly reminiscing about people who died. It was these characters for very specific reasons and this is attached to the dialogue bubbles. These bubbles express his previous assumptions, and what he learned from them.

It starts with Yuuji's grandpa, Wasuke- his memory is attached to Yuuji thinking people have assigned roles. Wasuke was the first to give Yuuji a role. He enrolls as a Jujutsu Sorcerer because Wasuke told him to save people and Yuuji thought if he fulfilled this role, he'd have a good death.

The 'good death' is then linked to Junpei. Prior to meeting Junpei, Yuuji placed an emphasis on people dying "good deaths". This meant respectable and moral deaths where peoples lives were not tampered with. With Junpei, Yuuji failed at saving him (what Wasuke asked of him), and at giving him a proper death (the thing Yuuji wanted to give as a bare minimum). This was a double whammy where Yuuji properly understood the kind of world he has entered.

Then we transition to Yuuji realizing there is no such thing as "good death". Todo in Shibuya had pointed out to Yuuji that he keeps thinking about the meaning and logic to death so much he's disrespecting those who did die. This post here by @linkspooky (hello, sorry for tagging you, you don't need to read this mess, I just wanted to cite and link to your theories because they were fun to read) has a big section about how Yuuji sees things in terms of 'story' and 'roles'. Therefore for him, 'death' must have some significance too and he tries to assign meaning to Junpei's death as a coping mechanism.

But this ENTIRELY falls apart because one death? Yeah he can assign meaning to one guy, but everyone he knew and treasured were falling like flies. What significance could he give to Nanami and Nobara's death, who were also killed by Mahito? What of Shibuya? Yuuji heard Todo saying "don't dwell on the death of others, that would be trivializing their life and what they were, and don't drag yourself down" to further enforce his ideology of himself playing a "role".

Yes, Nanami and Nobara died meaninglessly, but Yuuji blamed his inability to perform his 'role' right in this 'system'. He dug deeper into the mentality of being one small part of this big thing and diminished his own significance to nothing.

BUT.

In 265, Yuuji has realized that is not the case and he says that over Nanami and Nobara. These two characters arguably had the most mundane dreams and reasons for being sorcerers. Nanami dreamed of a peaceful life and got back to sorcery to do something useful he didn't think a corporate job could provide- he felt himself to be contributing more to making lives better by being a sorcerer but ultimately he wanted to just, be happy.

While Yuuji sees being a sorcerer as being a 'hero' and as a somewhat noble profession about saving lives, Nobara DID NOT. For her, this is a 9-5 job. She took this on because it paid, she was good at it, and gave her the freedom to be herself. Over Nobara, we see Yuuji saying "just walking your dog and raising your family are also decent roles" (fingers crossed the translation is fine). Nobara wanted to go shopping, dress nice, explore the city of Tokyo, be independent and free of scrutiny. These aren't particularly lofty goals like "save everyone" but Yuuji didn't realize how much value these goals have until now. Her dying words were "it wasn't too bad" which probably made no fucking sense to Yuuji because she died young, horribly, needlessly. How could it be "not too bad" when she didn't get to do much at all?

He was so fixated on giving meaning to death and fulfilling some higher purpose he forgot that little things matter and these people are independent and unique individuals. That's when we see Choso, who lived and died because he simply loved his brothers, nothing about saving the world or anything. Yuuji's final statement that small fragments of memory and happiness gives value is said over Gojo. Gojo who's been the center of fucking everything. Gojo who is the strongest and most powerful. Gojo who's been assigned the lynchpin of sorcerer society and whose mere birth caused upheaval in the strength of sorcerers and cursed spirits. Yuuji realizes he remembers Gojo not for his power or his death but for the little moments they shared together.

Junpei's there, because he was the first person whose death he somehow tried to justify in his head. He was kinda making it about himself instead of seeing Junpei as an independent person. Linkspooky also made a great post about how Yuuji didn't really try to listen to Junpei as a person. He saw him as someone to be saved, or someone to be stopped until the last few minutes. All of these people he is remembering are people who taught him a vital lesson the first time around and were a huge turning point.

Higurama absolved Yuuji of his guilt and told him he shouldn't blame himself, and that is very significant, but Yuuji isn't talking about himself in this scene. He is talking about his changed perspective on the value of ALL life. These people he's thinking about have made him reconsider his perspective on his role with respect to others, which is why it's Junpei instead of Higurama.

Span of Time

Junpei and Yuuji knew each other for a day, two days if you're being generous. He shouldn't matter so much.

Aside from the trauma of seeing someone you conversed with and seemed to get along with die a horrible death while asking "why?" (ah i believe this might be where Yuuji started trying to give meaning to death), time doesn't really matter in terms of impact.

Geto and Gojo knew Riko for about 4 days, but Riko's death was Geto's tipping point into entering his corruption arc. Geto and Gojo knew each other properly for about two years. The remaining ten were spent not having seen each other at all (based on canon, I am all for them meeting up in secret in headcanons). But for Gojo, Geto is still someone very important. ChosoYuki knew each other for a couple of days too.

I think bringing up how time passes in real life is kind of useless in fiction. Practically speaking, Gojo should've then moved on from Geto a long, long time ago and his feelings about him should have diminished. Gojo also should've managed to get past his issues about Toji but he clearly still has some trauma and issues related to him. Yuuji knew all these people for about 4-6 months yet he is so traumatized by all of their deaths. It's less about "how long did they know each other?" and more about the narrative relevance of these characters in their life. After Sukuna, Mahito was Yuuji's biggest villain, and this was setup USING Junpei.

Similarly, though Riko and Haibara weren't really present in the manga for long, they served to highlight the exploitative nature of sorcerer society.

I know people like to mock Gege and the general fandom is already very weirdly hateful of Junpei, but Gege is very good at conveying meaning and themes through his characters. It was Junpei for a reason. JJK is a story that makes you, as a reader, introspect about things. I think this dismissal of Junpei, calling Megumi 'useless' and the general atmosphere where there's an emphasis on power rather than anything else is a really fruitless way of consuming JJK and I hope people learn to curiously ask why a writing decision has been taken, instead of coming at it with own assumptions and priorities.

[kaithonks]

So I’ve had some Thoughts about From the DC Vault: Death in the Family: Robin Lives!

Warning: Spoilers 

My mistake with From the DC Vault: Death in the Family: Robin Lives! was thinking that the story would actually be about Robin. That was on me. I should have known better, but I let my excitement of finally getting more Jason Todd, Robin content get away from me. I set up poor expectations, and it’s not the comic’s fault for not meeting those expectations. 

Everything else is, though. 

I know I’m biased, and I am probably writing this too soon after having finished Robin Lives to really give myself time to think critically about the story. But, I also feel rather offended by the end and feel the need to strike while the iron is hot. Recently, I talked about fans and writers needing to have respect for each other, as they can’t exist without each other. I also mentioned having a respect for the history of the comic. On that, I don’t get the feeling that J. M. DeMatteis has much respect for the history that was Jason’s Robin run. Granted, this isn’t mainline canon. It is more of a ‘What if?’ So DeMatteis wasn’t “entrusted” the same way but, there was still a line of basic respect that feels very lacking. Now, DeMatteis has been writing since the 80s and has written a lot for both DC and Marvel so he is a part of comic history, but this doesn’t really translate into respect for characters. Or for fans.

Both Jason and Dick’s character have a rough time in this 4 issue series. While the series called “Robin Lives” mostly focuses on Bruce and his regret, by doing that it makes Jason and Dick more like props for Bruce’s guilt than actually characters with their own agency. Bruce outright denies Dick’s choice in becoming a Robin and even later Nightwing. In this guilt, Bruce totally takes away the fact that even as a child, Dick did choose this, and he chose it again when he became Nightwing. So Bruce’s guilt serves no one here. And this problem gets worst with the Robin Lives ending. Dick becoming Batman, is an incredibly weak ending to start. Because most of Dick’s history is him growing out of Robin and then trying to break out of Bruce’s shadow. Yes, Battle for the Cowl happens, but it’s more complex than Dick just becoming Batman. And it’s easy to see how pointless all of Bruce’s guilt was when he decided to leave his role as Batman, only for Dick to take it up again. It really feels like Dick is only a prop for Bruce’s journey. Dick is here for Bruce to feel guilty about, but then to also relieve him of the duty that also makes him feel guilty. 

And it is so much worse with Jason. This does sort of come back to me setting up poor expectations and the fact I thought this would be about Jason’s recover, but it was glossed over. We simply jump to Jason now being okay, which is a choice, if on the unbelievable side. What is worse, though, is how Bruce and the comic, makes Jason’s trauma about Bruce. Because yes, to an extent Bruce holds fault for the events leading up to Death in the Family. But he mainly holds fault in the form of negligence. He didn’t properly check out Sheila Haywood's background before for deciding she was a safe person to leave his son with. I am boiling down the issue of character interaction between Bruce and Jason (and outside influence that puts Jason’s last issues into context), but my point still stands that Bruce and Jason still made choices. For Jason’s part, he chose to trust Shelia to try, and save her. And in reality, Joker and Shelia hold the blame for Jason’s trauma. The fact Shelia was only briefly seen in a hallucination and “saving” Jason, again feels like DeMatteis has a lacking appreciation for the history of Jason’s Robin, and it’s context. Yes, Shelia saving Jason would be something Jason would want, but the event after this takes away everything that would make Jason still want Shelia’s affection in some way. With the ending and Jason becoming the Joker to Dick’s Batman, shows this. It ultimately feels like both Dick and Jason were used as stage props to re-establish some kind of status quo for a series that was only planned for only four issue. The run very well could have ended with the Joker’s death and everyone going to live happy lives but for some reason no. 

Now, one could see that as DeMatteis having a respect for Batman’s history as a whole and a path for a continuation. I would argue, though, that it shouldn’t come at the cost of other character’s agency. The leap in Jason’s “madness” is awkward, and when I say leap I mean a massive leap. This goes back to my problem with the story not focusing on Jason. We spend so much time in Bruce’s grief that when it is about Jason, everything goes sideways and ends up with being a “What the hell did that happen?” Especially since in the context of the story, Jason should have gotten a lot more support from Bruce, now retired, from Dick, now living back in Gotham, and from Dr. Sarawarti Dev, a psychologist. Having Jason still become the Joker after all this, not only feels like all of those people continued to fail him (especially as Bruce and Dr. Sara get married, which was a strange addition), but that he never really had any choice.  The story didn’t take the time to show us this, to show us how or where Jason became the Joker. He even denied becoming like the Joke in early issue 4. A point might be made that killing the Joker made Jason the new Joker, but a counterpoint Why? Jason already had the choice and decided? Why did he go back on that? Jason was Robin, Robin has the role of bringing hope, and being more compassionate, countering the fear Batman brings. We see Jason’s compassion before he died (or was injured in this case), when he still tried to save Shelia after she betrayed him. We see it in this comic with him still wanting her affection in his hallucination. So where did that compassion and care go?  

The answer? It didn’t go anywhere.  It was forgotten for the sake of a convoluted twist to make a reader gasp. Robin Lives spends its whole four issue run taking away the choice and agency of Robin. Robin does not live here. He becomes a puppet of the plot not to move outside of its designated story, he only can become Batman or the Joker. But never his own being. For anyone who’s ever enjoyed Robin, be it Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne or any other Robin, past or future, Robin Lives is an insult.

[primnroses]

— Explaining Konohagakure’s Intelligence Department from Naruto to Boruto:

The information presented in this post has been checked and revised. My aim is not to hate or to discredit any of the characters mentioned. Please read about me for further information.

This post will contain evidence in picture format directly from the manga Naruto (1999 - 2014) created by Masashi Kishimoto and published by Shueisha in 1999. I will also use information from the official databooks.

This informative post will explain the role and utility of the Intelligence Division from its debut in Naruto to its development and role in Boruto. I will use information present in the novels and the Boruto manga because it includes character development within canon compliance.

This meta is crossposted in AO3.

I give my permission to use or share this thread with informative purposes as long as you credit me.

I do not support the anime or the work of Studio Pierrot in regards to Naruto because I consider it over exaggerated and beyond biased. Furthermore, these fillers include some actions that these characters are unable to do in the canon according to official sources and they also generate unnecessary debate.

This meta does contain anime scenes from Boruto because it is a monthly manga draft that depends heavily on anime for context. 

Please, take this into consideration.

This meta will include a small discussion from my own point of view about the Intelligence Division and its members. There will be strong criticism and complaints, comparisons with other characters, previous leaders, etc. 

Important: I will also refer to this Konoha branch as the “Intelligence Department” to distinguish it from the Allied Shinobi Forces Intelligence Division. This post includes a small discussion from my own point of view about the Intelligence Department and its members. There will be criticism and complaints, comparisons with other characters, previous leaders, etc.

The Intelligence Division (情報部, Jōhō-Bu ), or (in this meta) Intelligence Department (情報部 門 , Jōhō-Butmon ) is an organization formed by shinobi in charge of extracting information from people via interrogation, gather intel or study material that could be useful for the village or the security of the village. The Intelligence Department is part of the “Special Forces”, a group of other major village branches separate from the three main departmental divisions of Konohagakure. 

This branch is currently headed by Ibiki Morino as department head, hailed as a master of interrogation and t0rtur3 in many countries. He is officially known as the “Leader of the Intelligence Division” (木ノ葉隠れ情報部のリーダー, Konoha kakure jōhō-bu no rīdā ) although the translation says "Intelligence Team", versions change depending on who translates. 

Ibiki Morino according to the fourth databook.

HISTORY:

It is unknown for how long this team has existed, but the Intelligence Division/Department officially debuted in chapter 418 of Naruto, at least the organization and its headquarters. The concept of interrogation, t0rtur3 or extracting information directly from a target debuted with the introduction of Ibiki Morino as the Captain of the T0rtur3 and Interrogation Force (拷問・尋問部隊隊長 Gōmon jinmon butai no taichō ). 

Ibiki's early description as the "Captain of T&I before the Intelligence Department was created.

I want to add that the reason why Ibiki was never stated to be the Head of the Intelligence Department was because it had never appeared until chapter 418, so the existence of this Konoha division was unknown. In the fourth databook entry shown above, this division also debuts and Ibiki's profile reveals that he is in charge of this organization and its multiple units. In previous entries like the first databook, he was only described as Captain of T&I because it was the only unit that existed.

Debut of the Intelligence Department in chapter 418 contrasted with the first character description of Ibiki in the first databook ch. 1-119.

The organization, division or department and all of their subdivisions wear their own unique uniforms. Members of interrogation teams wear a dark gray two piece uniform and a black belt, while other teams prefer other uniforms. 

Some members of the Intelligence Department wear uniforms to distinguish themselves from other departments or regular shinobi in a similar way the Medical Department’s Medical Corps wear their standard coats and medical uniforms.  

Naruto:

As soon as Ibiki Morino was introduced in the story, we learn about Konoha’s T0rtur3 & Interrogation Force and their crowded unit; as well as getting a general idea about the presence of a team trained to interrogate targets using various methods. 

However, the existence and the work of the Intelligence Division would not be known until chapter 418 of the manga. Everything else mentioned before was only the name of the team, but not their work.

During the era of the Fifth Hokage, the Intelligence Division was gathered in a building located in an unknown part of Konoha. The headquarters have different rooms dedicated to the different labor each of the teams carry out.

For example, there are rooms for regular interrogation (in the picture reconstructed after the Pain Arc), rooms for mental interrogation with special machinery, libraries for decoding teams, medical rooms for autopsies and a prison. 

T&I Team room, Analysis Team room, Cryptanalysis Team room and Autopsy Room.

The Intelligence Department can be divided into the following teams:

Konoha T0rtur3 and Interrogation Force (木ノ葉暗部拷問・尋問部隊, Konoha Anbu Gomon/Jinmon-butai): Captained by Ibiki Morino (拷問・尋問部隊隊長, Gōmon jinmon-butai taichō), their mission is to gain information from the enemy by t0rturing them or exposing them to arduous interrogation methods. They often work together with ANBU. Some members include Mozuku, Ibiki Morino and chūnin.

Analysis Team (解析班, Kaiseki-han): Previously led by Inoichi Yamanaka. Their role was to take over if the T0rture and Interrogation Force was unsuccessful. Using secret techniques to read the mind, they obtain information directly from the target’s memories. Some members include Mawashi Dokuraku, Kumadori, Tonbo Tobitake and Aoba Yamashiro.

(Medical) Analysis Team: Composed by members of the Medical Department such as Shizune, Sakura Haruno or Ranka, they perform autopsies to obtain information from deceased individuals such as a Pain or White Zetsu. (The name of this team is not Medical Analysis Team but they are included inside the regular Analysis Team. I came up with the distinction to make this list easier.)

Cryptanalysis Team (暗号解読班, Ang��kaidoku-han): They are a special team with the mission of decoding secret passwords or messages led by Mitoku. Some members include Shiho, Mitoku and Yurika, as well as Shikamaru Nara and Sakura Haruno occasionally. 

Konoha Aviary: Although it is unknown if they belong to the Intelligence Division, this team collaborates with the Cryptanalysis Team. They receive messages from other villages by hawk, often encrypted or containing secret messages.

T&I Team, Analysis Team, Konoha Aviary, Cryptanalysis Team and (Medical) Analysis Team as depicted in the anime.

Other official teams dedicated to gather intelligence but not part of the Intelligence Division officially include:

Astronomical Team: Introduced in The Last: Naruto the Movie, their role is to study the moon and other celestial bodies and search for anomalies that could threaten Konohagakure. 

Analytical Study (解読班, Kaidoku-han): Founded by Naruto Uzumaki when he became Hokage, this new team is located in the Hokage Residence. It debuted in Boruto: Naruto the Movie. They are focused on deciphering ancient codes such as Ōtsutsuki scrolls and similar objects. According to Kakashi Hatake in Kakashi Retsuden, some members include Shikamaru Nara, Shizune and Sakura Uchiha.

I want to add that the Analytical Study is something Ūkyo Kodachi wrote in the novel that Naruto created out of the blue, without reason. It seems like he didn't know about he existence of the Cryptanalysis Team, a team dedicated to deciphering any kind of code. He must have not read the manga, although this team appears in the movie too, its origins aren't revealed. In Kakashi Retsuden, the writer Jun Esaka reminds us that Shikamaru Nara and Sakura Haruno/Uchiha are part of the Cryptanalysis Team not the Analytical Study. However, since the Intelligence Department make no more appearances in Boruto, I imagine this is the new Analytical Study Team. 

Astronomy Team and Analytical Study in both movies.

Blank Period:

The next time the Intelligence Division or any of its units appear is mainly Sakura Hiden and Sasuke Shinden novels.

Six months after Kaguya Ōtsutsuki was defeated, Sakura Haruno started preparations to create a Therapy Center, a mental health branch for children who are indirect victims of the shinobi world. Two years later, Sakura Haruno successfully founded the first ever mental healthcare institution inside Konoha Hospital ; and other villages like Sunagakure also followed her example. 

However, a former member of ANBU Root, Kido Tsumiki, was plotting against Konoha and undergoing private experiments using Sasuke Uchiha and Naruto Uzumaki’s DNA in order to replicate Sharingan and Kurama’s powers. 

At the end of the novel, when Sakura defeats Kido, he is taken to the Intelligence Department in order to be interrogated by Ibiki Morino. 

Sakura Hiden chapter 8.

Months later, a series of missing Konoha shinobi attacked the village controlled by a jutsu that made their bodies explode. In order to unmask the perpetrator, Aoba Yamashiro, a veteran from the Analysis Team and Inoichi’s successor, read the mind of one of the targets that had been previously incapacitated and was being treated by Sakura. He delved into minds two times successfully.

Aoba Yamashiro becomes the official successor of Inoichi Yamanaka.

He is also the only character that has been shown to be able to reads minds without the aid of the Analysis Team's machine and be successful. He interrogated Kisame Hoshigaki until he broke the jutsu by hurting himself.

Aoba performing Psycho Mind Transmission without a device, a feat only achieved by him.

Boruto:

By the era of the Seventh Hokage, the Intelligence Division does not make any direct appearance, just mentions of one of its units and one of its members, or arbitrary work done by people that did not used to be among their ranks. 

At the beginning of the manga, it is revealed that Ibiki Morino does still conduct interrogations, however, this time he is the only one present from the former T&I, now replaced by the help of Sai Yamanaka. 

The remains of the Intelligence Department.

In the anime, Ibiki debuts with a similar introduction as in Naruto, probably a rendition to his imposing aura and, since it was his anime debut, an honor to his Naruto debut and to the original manga. He introduces himself as the Captain of T&I, just like in chapter 43.

Ibiki's anime debut.

That is the only “relevant” mention and hint about the Intelligence Department in Boruto. There is one more mention about another one of its units in loose episodes but only in the anime, so they do not tie to the original story and can be dismissed. 

Although the Analysis Team no longer exists within the story as a whole, there are characters that fulfill the task of mental interrogation in anime arcs such as Ino Yamanaka in episode 72 and Sasuke Uchiha in episode 151 who after normal interrogation later proceeds to read Shojoji's mind, but they do this as a side ability rather than as part of a team. Characters from the original Analysis Team such as Mawashi, Kumadori, Tonbo and Aoba are no longer in the story.

Ino Yamanaka preparing for mind probing. The interrogators using the help of Sasuke Uchiha's Sharingan for interrogation.

How does the Intelligence Department work and what is their role?

Gathering information from targets in order to learn their motives or their people behind their organization.

DISCUSSION:

How important is the Intelligence Department?

The Intelligence Department is of very little use in Boruto compared to Naruto. However, being written out of the story does not equal being less important. 

Like many other teams, the Intelligence Department debuted fairly late into the story, only being fully introduced in the Pain Arc, but it is considered one of the major side supporting branches after the main tree: Shinobi forces, Medical Department/Corps and ANBU. The best example of their usefulness is interrogating Yūdachi from Amegakure, conducting the examination of the Animal Path in order to determine Pain’s Powers and deciphering Jiraiya’s message; all during the Pain Arc. 

The equivalent of the Intelligence Department at the time of the battle against Madara and Obito Uchiha, the Intelligence Division (going by the same name as in Konoha), was also one of the most important support systems during the conflict.

Their function was changed during the global conflict.

Rather than collecting intel from enemies, the Intelligence Division would receive messages from the several teams scattered across the battlefield such as the emergence of a new enemy, casualties, infiltrations, etc. They would also relay battle tactics from the Chief Strategist to the different divisions. 

One of the most important moves of this division was when the White Zetsu infiltrated the Logistical Support & Medical Division in order to take down the main battle support and their most skilled medics, as well as other battle divisions. It was thanks to Sakura Haruno, who defeated the White Zetsu and figured out their plans, and later contacted the Intelligence Division in order to alert the rest of the divisions, saving everyone from death as early as the first days.

Sakura Haruno defeats White Zetsu and relayed the intel to the Intelligence Division.

The Intelligence Division would receive and relay, not search info for themselves. Like a Communication Division with multiple members and machinery.

The difference between the Intelligence Division and Konoha's Intelligence Department.

The current problem of the Intelligence Department?

In Boruto, the Intelligence Department suffered a downgrade compared to previous appearances, so vast that the notion of the branch has almost completely disappeared. It is now down to one single member left and filler interrogations that serve no purpose to the real plot. 

The downgrade is in relevance and build-up.

We used to see Ibiki Morino, Aoba Yamashiro or Inoichi Yamanaka performing interrogations on targets who would invade Konoha or trespass Konoha with dubious intentions. 

The role of an interrogator has been simplified, with only brief mentions of Ibiki performing said interrogation sessions off-screen. Nothing of what we used to see in the past, but, of course, in peaceful times or times when the information about the enemy is on full display, there is no need for interrogators or intel gathering. There are other teams and individuals in Konoha, such as ANBU or Sasuke Uchiha, collecting information.

On the other hand, when it is needed or should be used, it is not. 

The Intelligence Department in itself is not a failure, nor do their ranks fail at doing their job or need other people to step in for them. The failure comes with the writing quality in the sequel compared to Naruto, rather than the organization itself. 

Could they be redeemed?

The Intelligence Division does not need to be redeemed or rewritten, the problem lies in how they are projected in the sequel. 

Their functionality is perfect, at least in Naruto. They have the world’s best interrogator as their leader, several members of the staff and many specialized units.

Some of the things they could do are:

Interrogate enemies and former Kara outers such as Amado Sanzu, so before letting them do as they please they would go through Ibiki Morino, or Aoba Yamashiro if needed, first.

Recuperate bodies of the enemy if possible in order to be studied by the Medical Analysis Team and other medics such as Sakura Uchiha and Shizune.

Considering Konoha is the most powerful shinobi village and the Intelligence Department has resources, the usage of their staff leaves much to be desired in the script.

Note: The Fourth Shinobi World W4r has been replaced by global conflict to avoid mature content flags. T0rtur3 has also been censored.

[rvb-canon-grimmons]

RVB RESTORATION THOUGHTS!!!!

LONG POST IM SO SORRY I HAD A LOT OF FEELINGS

(Im so sorry this got so long, but i got emotional while writing it so please bear with me, read this like its the morning paper while u eat breakfast or something i have alot to say)

Before I go into the things I didn't like I do want to focus on some positives.

-Like I said in an earlier post, Geoff's acting…he absolutely killed it, and maybe this is because I'm a little bit Geoff/Grif biased but he was giving so much emotion and everyone else felt a little bit flat. Also only he could have delivered the "Come with me" line with so much Homoeroticism -I Had a pretty fun time watching the fight in the second half, The references to Monty we're sweet and getting to see Tex and Carolina fight together was pretty epic! -A good handful of jokes got me good. "23rd in my class" Shelia translating Caboose's Spanish to Lopez

Ok……. the next bit of this will get a little bit negative, but I do want to say this is coming from a place of deep love and care for this series. I have run this blog for like 6/7 years now and I've been a fan of this show for double that. My biggest fear is that fans get the same treatment we did when no one liked RVBZero. I have criticisms. This is a 21 year old series that so many people have had a part in and so many have loved. I was not looking for perfection, I wasn't even looking for something good. I was looking for an ending to the stories of characters people have held in their hearts for 21 years. Unfortunately, what I feel we were left with was a hastily thrown together hour of basically nothing.

-Why weren't they friends…..Why weren't they friends…No one cared for the others. I understand that we have semi warped perceptions of the characters from fanon works and things of that nature. But even in canon, the reds and blue care about each other. On their own team and the other team. Simmons, Grif, Tucker, and Caboose spent MONTHS together in chorus and same for Donut/Sarge/Wash. I've recently rewatched blood gulch and Caboose and Sarge have a great dynamic! Tucker and Grif canonically get along pretty well. Simmons was ON BLUE TEAM for like a hot minute there. THEY KNOW EACH OTHER AND CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. This was zero percent present in this film. No one had any motivation to look for Tucker. No one cared that it was Tuckers body inside the suit. THE REDS LEFT CABOOSE FOR DEAD!!!!!! THEY JUST LEFT HIM!!!!

-Tucker, I'm so sorry baby girl, this was supposed to be your arc, your moment. You were hardly in it. No build up to how he became the Meta. The scene where he breaks out of it to not kill caboose was the best part of the arc. And he just wakes up and remembers it "like someone elses Nightmare??" ok sure

-Wash………………WHAT THE FUCK???? WHAT THE FUCK???????????????? WHAT THE FUCK??????? WHAT THE FUCK???? TO RUIN THIS MANS ENTIRE CHARACTER ARC BY MAKING HIM COMPLETELY OBSOLETE. PUTTING HIM IN SOME RANDOM HOSPITAL FOR AN UNKNOWN INJURY THAT HAPPENS OFF SCREEN AND ISN'T EXPLAINED. HAVE HIM HALUCINATING DOC FOR SOME FUCKING REASON. HAVE HIM SHOW UP TO THE FINAL BATTLE AND DO ABSOLUTLEY NOTHING BUT JUMP OFF A FUCKING CLIFF AND NOT SAY A WORD TO ANY OF THE RED AND BLUES I AM LIERALLY ABOUT TO FUCKING CRY TYPING THIS I AM LITERALLY SO FUCKING PISSED OFF. AGENT WASHINGTON, THE CHARACTER THAT WAS SO HAPPY IN THE SEASON RIGHT BEFORE CHORUS JUST TO BE ON BLUE TEAM AND HAVE A FUCKING FAMILY AGAIN. JUST SIDELINE HIM FOR NO FUCKING REASON AND THEN NOT LET HIM SPEAK TO ANY OF HIS FRIENDS EXCEPT CAROLINA AND DEAD DOC. AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE FACT THAT TUCKER BEING THE META WAS LITERALLY A PLOT POINT CATERED TO HAVE WASH BE INVOLVED. THIS IS LIKE AGENT WASHINGTON ANGST BAIT 101. YES IM A TUCKINGTON SHIPPER BUT PUT ALL SHIPPING ASIDE, THEY WERE STILL FRIENDS, THEY WERE FRIENDS THEY WERE FRIENDS.

Grimmons. I am disappointed. But really not surprised. Honestly for everything I disliked I thought Grimmons was handled ok… at this point im like….. they couldn't even throw us a bone. company was dying, final season airing, and they couldn't even throw us a solid Grimmons queerbait joke. Its whatever….I don't wanna get too upset about shipping because at the end of the day, ships becoming canon isn't what shipping is all about (says Tumblr user "RVB-Canon-Grimmons) you get what im saying.

-Donut…..where was he…..Fucking Homophobic honestly

-DOC IS DEAD?????????????????????????????? FUCKING WHY???

-Sarge's death was fine, I'm not upset by it I just didn't feel like it was emotionally satisfying. Especially after the shock of them leaving Caboose and the much better scene of tucker fighting the meta's control over him to not hurt caboose.

-PEOPLE CALLED U SIR ALL THROUGHOUT CHORUS SIMMONS WHAT THE FUCK??????????? WHY IS SIMMONS PROMOTED AND INCHARGE OF NO ONE???? WHY DID GRIF LEAVE HIM???

Im sorry………..this is so long………just remeber this is only my opinions and if u don't agree thats totally ok!!!!! I am just a critical bitch….

[generic-sonic-fan]

The post where I do vague cultural worldbuilding headcanons for Sonic characters??

Sonic and Knuckles are mountain man bros in the sense that they both grew up in the wild raised by animals. They dunk themselves in a river, call themselves clean, and then fistbump about it. They eat fruit right off bushes. Knuckles can find you a damn good tuber in a pinch and Sonic would be able to snatch you a worm if you really wanted it. Knuckles finds it difficult to pick up on mainstream cultural customs but Sonic's always found it easy now that he's older.

Tails and Amy, meanwhile, grew up in towns. These towns had a definite human influence, hence their possession of first and last names, but they still grew up in a Mobian in-group of sorts. They know proper fur/quill care, feel that it's gender non-conforming for a boy to wear clothes and a girl to go without them, and are adept at reading ear/tail gestures. Tails was never really one for any small-town slang but Amy still uses more rural phrasing even now that she lives in a larger city.

Rouge grew up in a large city, so she's more well-versed in cultures other than her own. She's adopted some human rituals because she thinks they're fun, like face masks and shaving some of her body fur. She loves exploring human cuisines because they're "exotic" to her while Mobian cuisine are comfort foods. She's fluent in several different kinds of slang along with the gestures/manners of the different cultures.

Shadow was raised by humans. His mannerisms are unmistakably human. From wearing human-sized shirts around the house, to having a taste for "human" comfort foods, to being completely unable to read ear/tail gestures in conversation, any Mobian is able to peg him as an outsider pretty quickly. While he's absolutely embraced proper quill care, Rouge had to first point out to him that he was doing it wrong- using human shampoo is not going to cut it, hun.

Omega is. . . weird. For the most part, he's predictably alien: what few social customs he's bothered to learn he has to have observed first. Rouge has been a helpful educator on the rare occasion he gives a shit, usually in regards to slang translation to add to his dictionary. He's almost more like Knuckles in the sense that he was isolated and now he's playing catchup. Sometimes, sometimes, though, the assumptions Omega makes will lean more towards human biases. Anyone who values their life knows not to ever point that out to him.

Metal Sonic reads like a robot imitating a human imitating a Mobian. Yes, he can imitate Sonic's gestures, but it's the movement in between that's uncanny. The physicality of his limbs. The weight of each step in his out-of-combat walk cycle. It screams "human". Most of his cultural knowledge, the little that he has, comes from observing Eggman's daily routine. But Eggman is just one human, and an isolated and eccentric one at that. Metal Sonic could recognize a refrigerator but not a washing machine, could recognize a plate and fork but not any other kitchen cookware. His knowledge is piecemeal. His imitations are incomplete. He was designed for combat, nothing more. His unconscious attempts to fill in the gaps are illogical, aren't they?

Silver is permanently locked into a culture called "survival mode". That's a joke, but only mostly. His behaviors more closely match that of someone growing up in extreme poverty. He can't stand to throw stuff away and he has a hypervigilance about danger that someone who grew up in a "bad neighborhood" would understand. Not to mention that any cultural values he has learned are a few hundred years out of date, so his guesses at any customs tend to be slightly off.

Blaze is from a different dimension, which basically reads as just a different culture than the one that's prominent where most of Sonic's friends reside! She actually gets a kick out of sharing her customs and comparing them to everyone else's. She's also from an extremely privileged walk of life, though, and it definitely shows no matter how much research she does to try and be less ignorant about how "normal" life works.