#source removed for being red on shinigami eyes

[5ai]

[renardtrickster]

"It marked a bunch of people I follow as red!" You haven't provided screenshots so it's impossible to verify if the marks were warranted, as far as I'm concerned you haven't met the burden of proof and I am ignoring you now.

"Stop blindly trusting it." If you view it as a "shut your brain off and believe the redmark it never lies" then that says more about you than it does about it.

"You're crowdsourcing your morality!" There's a lot of baggage to address here and I'm throwing away every suitcase but one. I already have my morality, I think transphobes are bad, the extension just warns me when one shows up so I can either block them (and I usually check for proof anyways) or ignore them.

"But this person calls out transphobia all the time!" It is possible to take offense when someone on the internet calls for the death of all trans people, and to still cross the line for transphobia. You can be opposed to genocide and still think that nonbinary people are fake, or that any trans person who doesn't view their transness as some horrendous malady is a trender, or that if you don't intend to pursue medical treatment then you're faking it. The site's official guidelines say as much.

"But this one is a genuine false positive!" No system works perfectly, and instead of throwing your hands up and saying "it isn't 100% accurate therefore it's 0% trustworthy" you could instead be doing something more useful, like clearing the mark or spreading awareness of the fact/your argument that this person has been unfairly marked. I've seen trans shitpost accounts get marked red and instead of having a breakdown over the fact that a trans girl who says the t-word got marked red unfairly, I just unmarked her and moved on. I've seen people that used to be transphobes who turned over a new leaf and are still red, so instead of sobbing at the lack of redemption on the internet I just cleared them and moved on.

"You can just mark anyone as transphobic!" There's a review team staffed by actual people. If you mark someone red they're red to you, and only become red for everyone once the review passes. Goodness knows I've marked people green who have made trans advocacy half of their platform and they still haven't been given the go-ahead.

"It's essentially a tool showing you who to harass! Being marked red is like having a target painted on your back!" This doesn't happen. People mark you red to avoid you. Some transphobes do harass anyone marked green though! That's one valid criticism, and I wish an option could be implemented that lets you opt out of being marked green, or that the green option gets removed altogether! But it's not a criticism that I see anybody who hates Shinigami Eyes make really. Hmm...

"The creator is an abuser!" I never see this get backed up that isn't sourced from some site that's known to Make Shit Up for the purpose of harassment, but even if that's true what does this effect? The creator being a shit doesn't mean you stop being a shit either. Not to mention I know the people saying this line don't believe that reading a book made by some ancient racist means you're racist. Begone.

"B-" The internet is an ocean, and we live in an era where millionaires are dumping everything they have into radicalizing people into becoming sharks, making being a shark a "cool" and mainstream, making it sound like being a shark is some intellectual and subversive position to hold, even passing laws making it legal for sharks to eat and farm people. I don't know why you're so fixated on trying to convince everyone that the shark-detecting radar is actually bad and shouldn't be used. I don't think you're a shark for doing this, you're probably just misguided, but I do know a lot of sharks make the same arguments you do, and they do it because they're hungry. Having thought it out for quite a bit, and in the interest of self-preservation, I am choosing to treat words that sound like they came from a shark's mouth, as though a shark said them. I don't trust sharks.

I don't have a long post for this right now but I've seen one million arguments about why you shouldn't use or trust Shinigami Eyes and not only are all of them wrong, but they're so poorly reasoned or grounded in a faulty basis that at this point it's impossible for me to see those kinds of posts as anything but bad faith and/or someone uncharismatically attempting to persuade people not to use a genuinely useful tool for detecting transphobes that works 99% of the time if you're using it reasonably (read: aren't a strawman character that uses the redmark like a shotgun and runs in fear anytime they see a red link).

[owlsbride]

This Too Shall Pass

Chapter III: The Reaper.

London was no longer London. At least not the London he had come to love. Now it was a mix of modern buildings as tall as the sky itself. The old carriages over the years had been replaced by modern cars much faster and more compact at the same time. Now there were buses and even high-speed subway trains. Modernity was a new world and infinite possibilities. There was no misinterpretation, he had adapted well throughout all these years. He had learned to use every technological advance that came his way: cell phones, computers, the glorious internet, television. He even enjoyed from time to time going to the movies. He had learned that the latter was not significantly different from how people's cinematics records worked and that in a way filled him with pride. Even if he was a deserter, he had to accept that his people were far more intelligent and advanced than humans. He was used to modern life; it could be said that he even enjoyed it. He had come to learn some of the little pleasures that this era could bring him. He could sit for hours in some trendy little cafe, (where in order to pay a cup of tea, a regular person would have to consider selling a kidney on the black market) just to watch humans live their lives as fast as possible, coming and going without even pausing for a second to look to the side or behind, without even having the slightest consideration for what they did to the other or to the world in which they lived. These people lived oblivious of the finiteness and fragility of their bodies. They walked around proud of their cars, their clothes, their lovers and their promising careers, never stopping to look at or ask the needs of the others, never acknowledging that in the end death was inevitable and that at the last breath she equalled them all. Royalty, politicians, businessmen or beggars, they would all follow the same path and some of his former colleagues would be willing and able to judge them and take them without the possibility of the slightest protest. Oh these humans, they would never know what they got till is lost forever. He had lost everything once, even his sanity, and he was sure he would not do it again. Not now that he saw things as they were. His obsession with death had long been replaced by his obsession with life. That was what had driven him away from what had made him a legend so long ago, and what drives him crazy every time a little more. It was the burning desire to know what life was afterlife itself. How to prolong it, recover lost moments, and why not, create new ones. How to find once again what was lost and how to restore it as an exquisite work of art. Ironically, to reach his goal, he needed death: he was tied to it, and just today, in these times, the business of death was dying. Hilarious. Something as simple as passing, now it was complicated. In the good old days, when he had decided to turn his back on everything he knew, he had become London's best-known mortician. With his small business in Camden Town, he had had access to the most extraordinary elites of English society, and yet also made important contacts with simple commoners. As an undertaker, he had connections, the most varied and they all turned to him. Of course, he was not moved by money, he had never cared, he simply demanded in return a good joke that would make him laugh. After all, even death was not to be taken too seriously. He ran his business diligently getting to know more people than he ever imagined, one more curious and entertaining than the other. As an informant for the queen's watchdogs, he had managed to get into the elite, and thus each subject of study reached him without significant problems. He was happy, Oh what wouldn't he give for listening to the Earl's little voice once more asking for information? That butler was an incredible specimen, and he would have loved to dissect him. Oh lord, if only the little boy wouldn't be so stubborn about his stupid vengeance. Today the Parlour was not enough. Undertaker knew that if he wanted to continue his investigations even nearly 200 years later and with many incredible technological improvements, he had to be able to access another source of income. Modern times meant diversifying. Today, everyone's favourite mortician was no longer called to make arrangements for the afterlife. No. Now there were hundreds of other undertakers who did the same as him. Therefore, a place in the hospital morgue had been secured for some time. Who better than him, after years and years of seeing corpses to perform an autopsy and making himself time to take a look at his hidden agenda secretly? So yes, Undertaker was happy. Even if he missed the old times sometimes, he still ran his Parlour in the afternoons and was a forensic doc in the mornings. Just like a superhero with a secret identity, thinking about it, too many identities. Undertaker was sitting on the counter at his place, his long booted legs swinging lazily. The newspaper rested next to him, he had just finished reading the news, and they were hopeless, people in London were dying in droves, more like hundreds a day and that sort of hurt. Of course, he had witnessed other pandemics and knew very well what the consequences were. Not only did people die from the disease itself, but the devastation left, and the collateral damages were incalculable. It was as if the Horseman of the Apocalypse from the bible really put his feet on the slaughtered Earth. Undertaker knew that by now his fellow shinigamis would be desperate from overwork and felt sorry for them. How much would the lists of people to die have increased in recent months? He also felt sorry for the doctors who work non-stop to save lives. Two sides of the same coin: medical services and shinigamis, both barely surpassed by an infamous virus invisible to everyone's eyes, even his own. He regretted his work in the hospital too, it had been interrupted in these months, and he no longer had access to people's bodies for security measures. Obviously, the virus did not affect him in the least, but he had to keep up appearances. He sighed bored as his black nails drummed on the surface of the counter, he had no pending work, and he only had to wait. Sighed and wait. No more laugh, no more research, no more hilarious strange glances from his fellow doctors, nothing. Just desolation in every corner. His day couldn't get any worse, he burnt his bone-shaped cookies and was running out of tea. He would have to go to the store soon. He hated the store, he much preferred Lau's herbs, even the funny ones, those who made people laugh and relax when used in the right amount, and if not, still, he was not one to judge. So picking up the keys, he was ready to go out when something or somebody took him by surprise. "Heh heh, but if it's none other than the red shinigami ~ Tell me, sweety, Dear William gave you some free time?" "Undertaker, always a pleasure ..." Grell began nervously. Being in front of the legend of the shinigamis made him nervous "I have a favour to ask you." "A favour? Hmm ... How long has it been since the last one?" The silver-haired man chuckled, removing his bangs from his eyes. "You know what to do ~ give it to me first. Come on, you know what I want." "Undertaker ..." Grell pleaded "Now is not the time, besides you know I don't know how to do it." "My my, your face is priceless; you are still a nervous wreck." The Undertaker smiled almost fondly at the younger reaper. "What do you want?" "I need you ..." Undertaker raised an interested eyebrow, putting the keys back where he had found them, the tea could wait. Not every day a Shinigami would show up at the doors of a deserter asking for help. "I mean... WE need you." "You mean the London Despatch?..." Disbelief in his words, Grell nodded "Now, that's the joke of the century Grell, come on, I don't have time, I'm running out of tea". Grell Sutcliff rolled his eyes. He hadn't changed in years, Undertaker was just the same and he kind of like it. If it weren't for his relationship with William, Oh, the things he could do to the revel grim reaper in front of him. "Really, Undertaker? Is that what you do now? Take tea like an old lady?" the red-head spoke loudly, pointing at Undertaker's hidden scythe. "Well ... I'm quite old after all" Undertaker smiled and Grell pouted. "Ok, Ok. Why don't you take a seat on one of my special coffins and explain yourself?" Grell blew out the breath he didn't know he was holding and accepted the invitation. It was his idea after all, and he couldn't bring a no for an answer to his beloved William.

The chilly winter covered the city with a heavy mist. The sky threatened to snow at any moment. It didn't take long to convince him. Once young Grell Sutcliff had finished telling him his crazy plan and talked about how much the Despatch needed the help, he was ready to go. Plus, the red riper dared to say that the snob William T. Spears would have more than a headache knowing that he, the renegade shinigami, would accomplish the task better and faster, and nothing made him happier than bother poor Will. He was ready to wear the shinigami outfit one more time. He had to admit that he had missed it and that there was nothing like fieldwork. He was prepared to prove that no one could ever match him. Within just a few hours, he had been able to carry out the work of four shinigamis together and was just getting started. He caressed his lifelong companion with devotion, he had never gotten rid of his lover, and today they were walking together once more. His scythe was fantastic, and he loved her. Standing on the terrace of the hospital, he checked the list one more time. There were only two names left before the end of the shift when something caught his attention. She wasn't on the list moments ago. Her name had appeared suddenly, and she should not be there: Gwenhwyfar O'Doherty. He knew her, he had seen her from time to time in the corridors of the hospital. The young Irish doctor, lovely green eyes, cute freckles, she was so full of life. Working diligently every day to save others and yet here she was about to take the somersault that would make her, at best, one of his own kind. She wasn't ready to go, the world needed her. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, dear~ You are very much need it right now~." and his soft chuckle got lost in the winter night.

[eternalgirlscout]

another thing i alluded to but really should have been more explicit about in my post on terf rhetoric is the idea that “male sexuality” is inherently predatory to women. this is something i see present in terf posts that make their way insidiously onto the blogs of people who are themselves anti-terf all the time.

and it’s a tough line to walk, like a lot of red flags that trip my terf alert bells, because it is a genuine issue (to use a post i saw earlier and had to sadly inform a mutual of mine was originally from a terf blog as an example) that straight cis men will openly sexualize young women the second they turn 18. this is unfortunately true of a lot of popular posts about domestic violence or how coercive and damaging beauty standards are to women, too--between a third and a half of the time, in my experience, OP is a terf. and i can’t exactly put these things on a list of terf dogwhistles because obviously people SHOULD discuss the dangerous ordeal of being a young woman seen as a sexual object by older men; we SHOULD address domestic violence; we SHOULD acknowledge that being held (and holding each other) to standards of attractiveness predicated on misogynistic, racist, fatphobic, ableist ideas is coercive and wreaks havoc on a lot of women’s self-perception and confidence. 

terfs know that people outside their disgusting little club earnestly care about these problems, and because they willfully refuse to acknowledge how structures of misogyny impact trans women (often, of course, impacting trans women even more than their cis counterparts due to these trends compounding with transmisogyny), terfs take agreement with their posts as validation for their fucked up worldview.

the specific phrasing and point of view i started out with here, about “male sexuality,” is on the easier end of the spectrum when it comes to Things To Watch Out For Because OP Is Probably A TERF. all else aside, terfs love to pretend all men are straight unless its convenient to use gay men as a “gotcha.” so, rev up that reading comprehension, because posts that implicitly assume GBPQ men don’t exist... are worthy of suspicion.

but more broadly, it’s hard. it’s hard to know when a post about problems that disproportionately impact women (ALL women, and people who are misgendered as women, and people who experience misogyny, the list goes on and it doesn’t and never ever has ended with Wombyn-Born-Wombyn Check Your Chromosomes At The Door, i hope any terfs reading this can feel me spitting in their faces) was made by someone whose definition of “women” is violently exclusionary to so many of our sisters because they’ve hidden it in language that gets a pass unless you’re paying a lot of attention or you’ve trained yourself to spot it. and i don’t really know what the fix is, beyond blocking and deplatforming all terfs (which... do do that, but you can’t always rely upon every person eight reblogs removed from you to check the source of each and every post).

anyway, this is something i do because i can. terf violence doesn’t directly impact me, so i can stomach reading through their garbage long enough to spend an hour blocking a string of them and recognizing their urls. take some time to listen to people who aren’t in that position. reach out to the people in your life who need to know you’re on their side. don’t send your trans friends terf screenshots like “CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS LMAO” unless they’re in the headspace to make fun of terfs being dumbasses. i’d recommend the Shinigami Eyes extension, too; it’s saved me a lot of time on a few occasions. and really, ultimately, think about what the posts you reblog are really saying, the implications of their word choice. i know the internet is soundbytes and lightning-fast scrolling, but there are things worth taking the time to be careful about and this is one of them.

[mythologymonsterlover]

Female! Fire demon lover

This story is kinda depressing, but it became happier at the end. This is a fluffy story, so don’t expect any sexual content.

Warning: cussing

Male reader X Female monster

The rain streamed down from the outside of each building’s window, and looking inside of them you could see were all empty. The thing that keeps my path lighted for me is the street lights. They make up my home wherever I go.

Japan, my birthplace, was the city I walked in every night from the train station to my apartment complex. It‘s Friday, so I wasn’t the only one to be out so late. People during this time like to hang out with family, or with friends at a bar. Personally, I never was a people person, so I was usually alone...Something my mother would say was a bad quality of mine. Yes, I do admit I wasn’t the easiest to get along with, but I was able to get a job with my computer knowledge. As for my cat named Tam, he was good company after such long nights after work that he was all the company I needed. I do though want a family someday. It would prove to my mother and I that I’m not a complete loser I guess.

Staring at the ground I notice my glasses are getting blurry from the rain. So, I remove them to wipe the lenses only to realize I could barely see right in front of me. I know I should stop to wipe them, but it's raining so badly...

Yet not so surprisingly when I trip over myself, I know I’m fucked.

I see the pavement, but before I hit the ground face first I reach my hands out. Luckily, my arms impacted my fall, and my face was only an inch from the ground. Feeling so damn grateful for not breaking my face, I almost feel like crying. I sigh, not believe I almost did that. I get up and swing my bag over my shoulder, making sure I didn’t lose any of my papers. I start to walk away, but before I knew it a man was yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Sir!” He screams as I turn to look at him, and then a women right next to him is looking at me horrified.

What the hell?

“Oh my god!” Her eyes widen in fear, and before I could ask what’s wrong, I hear a horn.

“Hooooonnnnkkkkkk.”

It screeches out, and turning I see a pair of headlights in front of me.

“Thunk.”

...That was the last thing I heard before everything went black.

My eyes remain close in fear of what I might see. Waking up after such a dramatic accident my body went though, just seemed impossible. I’m too afraid to see my blood, bones, or even organs all over the ground.

Yet oddly enough, I thought it would hurt more. I barely feel any sorta pain but a dull ache, and a matter of fact, I don’t feel dead.

Yet here I am, pretty sure I’m alive, since i’m conscious and feel the wet street underneath me. I try to move my arms and legs, but they won’t budge under my will. I decide I can’t just lay here forever, since I don’t want another vehicle to hit me. So slowly opening my eyes I look, and gasp in shock at the scene before me. There are...no people or cars, just the street lights. I think I must be dreaming as I take in my surroundings.

Yet, I’m here in the street and not definitely in my bed. I again try to move my body, and this time I actually lift my head up.

Thank god, I say knowing at least this isn’t what people call sleep paralysis...or is it? I shake my body to stay focused though since I’m having a hard time taking this all in. I finally regain control of my legs and arm while sitting there for a moment trying to figure out if this is reality or not. Being able to move my body, I come up with the common solution that everyone says to do. I pinch as hard as I can on my cheek to wake up.

“Ouch!” The pain runs through me leaving my cheek red.

Okay, so this is not a dream. Great.

Getting up with somewhat still aching legs, I look down the middle of the street I’m in. Astonishingly, I don’t see any cars parked or even driving. You would think someone would call the ambulance and take me to the hospital. I guess everyone had somewhere else to be. Yet, could that really be the case? Did we possibly get a earthquake warning? Was the city evacuated and I was left behind? I keep thinking of different reason as to why no one is around. The air is foggy it seems and is crawling out from the darkest of corners. Chills go up my spine as the sudden changes in the atmosphere makes me scared.

I want this dream to end, so with little hope I sit down on the ground letting tears sting my eyes. Yet before I can allow myself to fully give in, a glass breaks.

What?

I look around for the unexpected noise and stop when I look behind me.

Their, deep in the fog, is a person figure.

“Hello?” I call out, but with no reply.

Standing up, I feel scared to know what it might be as I stay put frozen.

When the figure finally does emerges from the mist, I have to take a few step back while blinking my eyes a dozen times.

It’s a girl I think, but not the one that looks human.

No, her skin is purplish colored, hair dark purple, and even purple eyes?!

She keeps walking towards me until she was an arm length away, and I didn’t breath until she breaks the silence.

“Well, nice place to find yourself at huh?” She says sarcastically, and with a frown she sighs loudly.

“Man, you really like to run around a lot. Can’t seem to stay in one place can you?”

I don’t respond, as I can only look at her weird demonic features instead. Her eyes slit like cats as she glares at me. Her lizard like tall swings around a little, and her little horn on top of her head are hard to miss. She lays her elf-like ears back like a displeased dog as she snaps her fingers in my face.

“Hey, stop staring buddy, I get your confused and all but I don’t need you to be a freak!”

I shudder away from her, not knowing what she will do to me.

“Are you a yokai? Or a Shinigami trying to take my soul?!” I stammer, feeling sweat go down my forehead. I heard stories of evil spirit like that trying eat people’s life source, so she must be one of them!

The being however looks bewildered at my comments, and just shakes her head in annoyance.

“I’m a fire demon named Lola sweetie, not whatever you said…”

She doesn’t know Japanese legends of spirit? Well then again she may look Japanese like me, but demons are known to mask their appearance to please others.

I don’t let it bug me long since I bow my head in apology to try and not make her angry.

“I’m sorry...could you tell me where we are?” I say, trying to change the subject. She stares at me for an uncomfortable length of time, until she randomly turns to walk away.

“Hey, where are you going?!” Yelling, I run after her as she moves faster than I can imagine. I follow the demon through alleyways, sidewalks, and neighborhoods until finally she stop in front of a shrine. She looks back at me one more time until she goes into a portal that suddenly opens at the spot. I slow down in my pace as I look at the bluish portal that ripples like water in front of me…

I hesitantly walk into it, and before I can comprehend I hear a bursting of noise that wasn’t here a minute ago.

“Welcome to mid-afterlife.” The demon girl says to me. I didn’t understand what she meant until I look out to the sea of monsters that walk back and forth in front of me. My knees go out first, and I leave my mouth agape as my mind registers what she just said.

Afterlife? I’m...dead?

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and looking up I see the demon girl have sorrowful eyes. She lowers down to sit by me, and my heart shatter at knowing this is reality.

It’s too real to not be.

“You know, it’s not as bad as you think..” she says, looking into my black eyes with her violet one’s. I just shake my head, not believing her.

“So, what I’m I now? A demon like you? A ghost?” I say shakily, not being able to face her anymore.

“No, no, you haven’t been dead long enough to become a ghost...And your soul hasn’t been tainted enough into becoming demon soul.” Her nonchalant voice almost makes me feel better, so I let out a small laugh.

“So, That means you were human like me once?” The demon nods as she looks beyond the horizon of the city. I look as well, seeing that the only difference between the two realms is that no living person is ever gonna be here.

….

After days of my death, it took me awhile to come to terms with my surroundings. Lola, I soon learned, is an apprentice of a well known forest spirit in the city named Avery. She was tasked from her mentor with bringing my soul to this realm as a chore. It didn’t amaze me at first, but soon I learned that it could help her grow more powerful as a fire demon. As for her past human life, she can barely remember it since she been dead for so long. I worry about forgetting my former life, but then again, I didn’t live a existence that was exactly fulfilling.

Yet today will be the 20th day of being here in the realm. The spiritual world is a little too different from the living society. Like for example, you don’t need a job to live here, yet, jobs are available for the hell of it. Also, homes are free to live in and you never need to worry about starving to death. Personally this makes me depressed, but that might be because I’m still traumatized or because I just got here.

Who knows though right?

Another surprising thing is that I’ve been staying at Lola’s place, which I don’t know why. I wanted my own home to recuperate with everything, But Lola’s mentor Avery said to us:

“ Lola needs to connect with the human side of self, your presents will suffice for her lesson.”

I just nodded my head, not really understanding what she meant at the time. Now, I guess I do since I’m living with the purple demon. We usually ignore each other, but we talk when Avery is around since we kinda are forced. I do now get curious about her here and there.

Not trying to be weird, but I watch her walk up the stairs of the house to her bedroom. I don’t usually do this, just when she goes to bed. Their I listen as she sings a haunted song in Japanese tongue. The song itself reminds me of looking into a forest, but with mist everywhere. It’s beautiful, but so mysterious it makes chills go up my spine.

Tonight like usual I was waiting for her singing outside her door, listening intently for her song. However, I didn’t hear her it like usual and became concerned with the lonesome silence. I hesitantly knock on her door, not sure why, but feeling the need to check on her.

“Lola, how are you tonight?”

No answer. I knock again.

“Lola? You in their?”

The door suddenly swings opens and she appears, glaring so at me like the first time we met.

“Why do you listen?” She says angrily, not breaking eye contact with my eyes. I gulp down anxiety as she forms purple flames in her hands, like she’s ready to kill me.

“I’m sorry! -Just your singing, it’s so pretty...” I say while bowing my head, trying to apologize for my behavior. She seems to calm down a little as her flame disappears, and her eyes flutter in surprise.

“You like my singing?” Lola mummers, and looking down at the floor she seems lost in thoughts. I was gonna ask if that was alright, until she grabs my wrist bringing me into her room. blushing, I didn’t understanding what she trying to do with me. Moving to her bed, she flops down looking at me. I stand there awkwardly with my body burning up, not sure what to do.

“Relax, I’m going to sing for you.” Lola says closing her eyes, and she goes on to sing a haunted melody.

It’s the same song that makes me relax before, and I sit down on the floor to watch her.

After that day, I visited Lola more to hear the enchanting song that soothes me.

I began to see a smile on her face more as I walk by, and even blush on her cheeks when I encourage her singing. I was feeling especially lonesome today without her, so when she got home I walked up to greet Lola.

I didn’t interrupt as she took me by the hands, and lead me to the bedroom where she would sing.

“Lola..” I say, feeling my heart beat out my chest.

The demon looks at me warmly, and not being abl to keep my recent feelings away, I embrace her. She stiffened in my grip as her breath go down my neck.

I rub her back, knowing I didn’t want to do anything to her but just to hold our bodies together in my arms. She pulls away roughly and I was ready for a slap in the face, since I most likely overstepped her boundaries.

Instead though, she pulls me down on my collar to meet my lips. It rough, but she soons loosen her grip and I move in to give us more closeness. I feel myself grow warm and a needing to bring her even closer, so I press her to the wall. I felt my heart warm up, and not only that. My sad world I once called my life became much more. I love her I think...and I hope she does as well.

[tobiblack]

As Tobirama watched his brother and Madara make peace with each other decades after their deaths, a small frown made itself home on his face.

In front of his eyes, he could see both of their forms, his brother’s captured via his Edo Tensei and Madara’s new flesh one, fade and flicker and fall in favor of their bright spirit forms. Their souls lifted from their mortal and faux-mortal coils by the Shinigami to return – or just to go – to the Pure Land.

His form did not flicker, not freed from the regrets and Regrets he’d carried into death, that had kept him from the Pure Land after his death and made him so easy to summon to a faux-life once more with Edo Tensei.

(He’d had many regrets.

Not freeing his mother from the oath she’d taken for peace against the child-killing Senju for the Hatake in being wed to his father, once he’d become aware of the oath after the birth of Itama.

Not keeping his brothers from the battlefield.

The death of Kawarama.

The death of Itama.

Not noting the other spy on the clandestine meetings of Hashirama and Madara as anything other than a worried brother.

Not keeping that secret.

Not focusing on Tajima instead of Izuna for his attack.

Not seeing to the death of Butsuma earlier in their renewed war between Senju and Uchiha.

Not advocating for peace alongside his brother with anything more than subtle support in his attempt to protect them in his belief for its inevitable failure.)

His greatest Regret rested in the death of Izuna, and all that had happened because of how he’d destroyed Madara’s last stable support with how he’d known Hashirama wouldn’t have been able to be enough.

(He’d had so many regrets that had built up on top of each other, because without Izuna, Madara hadn’t been able to be there, and their strength in the village had been lessened. Without Madara, they’d been weakened, and they’d created their biggest enemy.

So many of the enemies that come for Konoha had stemmed from Madara and the madness he’d stoked and sowed.

So many problems had come from the source of Madara’s madness, with him no longer shielded with the love of and his love for, Izuna, and vulnerable to machinations of the enemy of all shinobi. Vulnerable to the minion of the plans of a mad Goddess, targeted for the fact that he’d been not just the descendant, but the reincarnation, of Indra, her original target, and her grandson.)

His Regret tethered him to this mortal realm, unable to fade even as he’d told his brother that they should leave this world and their hopes and dreams to the next generation.

If his brother saw that he’d stayed firmly rooted, he hadn’t had the chance to say anything as his spirit ascended with Madara’s – with Saru – with that young upstart of a Fourth, Namikaze, after his talk with his son and the current reincarnation of Ashura.

With their ascent, the last of those trapped by his Edo Tensei were gone from the battlefield other than him.

The Sage turned towards him, away from the current reincarnations of his sons, when he noted he was still present, “Child, why do you remain?”

At his shoulder, a familiar spirit appeared, and the Shinigami settled a hand on the Sage’s shoulder as he removed the mask that was his face, “Brother, you may have finally gotten your peace between your children, but at the expense of so many others. He is from the generation of their last reincarnation, the brother of Ashura reborn, and lived through their near-reconciliation and ultimately the madness again caused by our mother to Indra reborn. You have, personally by your insistence on having your sons reborn until they reconciled, ruined his life with their fighting.”.

Tobirama looked at the face of the Shinigami, Hamura Ōtsutsuki, and watched as his grip tightened on his brother Hagoromo’s shoulder as he frowned, “You have had your reconciliation of the sons you should have pushed for centuries ago while they were alive, but now it is time that another got their chance to fix the mistake they regret most.”.

Hagoromo winced under the grip, “But to do that is to undo my son’s reconciliation-!”

Hamura’s face hardened, “No. It will hasten it. If he fails, then we simply tighten up the timestream back to this moment and we leave it as this, and he’ll reconcile in the Pure Land with his regrets. If he succeeds, I will watch over far less death hastened because of our mother. And my nephews can rest without a third lifetime of strife.”

Tobirama, if the face he was looking at was any but the Sage of Six Paths, would have called his expression a pout.

When that expression lingered, and he tilted his head just a little, overlaying the face in a darker shade, he found it looked exactly like his brother.

His eye twitched at seeing the origin of one of his brother’s defining expressions.

(Hamura’s eye twitched with him, his long-suffering coming from centuries instead of decades with that expression.

Particularly as his brother still didn’t believe him when he said that his son’s puppy-dog pout was because of him, not his wife.)

Hamura turned away from his idiot elder brother, choosing to ignore him in favor of the intelligent descendant of one of his nephews, “Child, do you wish to come to peace with your greatest regret?”.

Tobirama met his gaze, unafraid of meeting Death head-on, “If you make peace this way, and choose not to reconcile in the Pure Land, this reality will no longer be available to you. If you fail, I can revert time to this point, but I cannot bring you from your death once more even by your unnatural jutsu – you will go to the Pure Land with no choice when you die again. If it comes to this again, you will not be able to help in this battle in your other reality. Do you still choose to do this?”.

He nodded.

Hamura nodded, then stepped forward, cupping the face of the child that suffered so much for his brother’s foolish wish, and knelt until their foreheads touched, “Then go with my blessing, and hope that you succeed.”

~

Between one blink and the next in a manner very familiar to his Hiraishin, Tobirama went from looking at the battlefield of the 4th Shinobi War to looking at a battlefield he’d only seen in his dreams for the last two decades of his life.

It took but a second for him to realize why the movement felt familiar – and not just because of the similarities of the types of travel along the space-time continuum – was because he’d appeared mid-Hiraishin.

To the literal moment of his greatest Regret.

He looked at the face of an enemy long-dead to him, blurry from the ash and smoke and steam still heavy in the air.

The grip on his weapon faltered for a moment in the face of a death he’d come to regret when it was no longer just about the survival of him or Izuna, no longer about keeping one of the greatest threats of the Uchiha away from his clan members, his family, and instead about the sanity of the greatest threat the dream of his brother would face.

There was a blink as Izuna saw the falter even as he startled at his sudden closeness, but even faltering, he could only twist his blade so much to the side. It had been pointed center-point fatal, but no matter his efforts in the eleventh hour, the swing would be fatal and Izuna would die without access to superior chakra healing that just wasn’t capable right now.

So he met the red eyes of Izuna fully even as the pinwheels began to spin, with all the regret he could muster to show him, and put forth a piece of information his student and friend had only told him in the last days of his life as one of the ultimate techniques of a fully developed sharingan. Whispering just loud enough for Izuna to hear, “Use Izanagi,”.

@divine-umbrella​

[ramblesandmumblesofanerd]

Rambling Reviews: Netflix’s Death Note

Welp, the day has come. As you can see, the Netflix version of the popular anime Death Note has just been released. And, as I said I would, I saw it. What are my initial opinions on the subject? Well, through the filter of professionalism I have put upon myself for this blog, I can certainly say that the film is dull, boring, ignores all of the rules of the source material and leaves you questioning as to why this film exists. If I were to remove this filter, all you could hear would be the incoherent screaming of a nerd who has been thoroughly wronged by whoever thought making this movie would be a good idea. For a better understanding of why this is the case, allow me to both make a few comparisons between the film and the anime/manga and also briefly talk about the film as a whole.

So, what is the plot of this particular version of Death Note? Well, one day at high school, Light Turner (ugh, that feels so wrong) comes across an old notebook which can kill people according to the onslaught of rules held within and the Death God Ryuk who practically forces the young man to try it out on a two-dimensional school bully. After he discovers the power he holds, Light and his high school sweetheart Mia Sutton decide to take it upon themselves to become KIRA, a God who will “never disappoint” and kill as many criminals as they possibly can. Eventually, the detective known as L gets involved and declares that he will capture and execute KIRA. And thus the story focuses on the struggle between Light being KIRA and also being a high school student all while trying not to be caught by L.

Firstly, things in this film just happen. The film never takes a moment to take a breath and calm down, every moment just races by at the speed of sound and smacks you in the face. Not even a full minute and thirty seconds pass until Light gets the notebook. No build up, no establishing characters, just: BOOM, Death Note. Also, the Death Note’s appearance comes with a lot of horror movie fanfare, as it comes on the breeze of a storm and causes all of the lights to flicker whenever it is being used. The same goes for Ryuk, especially in his initial appearance when he just messes around and scares the excrement out of Light. You expect big things to happen in this film, dramatic reenactments of iconic scenes lifted from the source material, but they fly by so fast that you're left wondering “...was that it?”. You wouldn’t have even known this was Death Note at the beginning of the film until you saw the title sequence.

So, I guess I should start talking about the characters at some point, shouldn’t I?

Well, Light was absolutely boring and was the complete antithesis to his predecessor. Light TURNER is just a punk high school student who helps other kids cheat on their tests for cash because his mom was killed. Oh, yeah, they go that route. One of Light’s first targets of the notebook was his mom’s killer, but I just couldn’t give a care. At all. Light Yagami was never driven by revenge (at least not until L started messing with his vision, and even then not by much), he just saw injustice in the world and his seventeen year old mind decided that if he uses  his Death Note to eliminate all of the evils of the world, he will assume the mantle of a godlike being. He does not care about anything else so long as it doesn’t benefit his vision. Granted, Light Turner eventually came to the same conclusion, but only after he got revenge and his girlfriend told him to keep going from there.

Meanwhile, there is Mia Sutton. “Who?” You may be asking? Well, she is Netflix’s version of Misa Amane, the Second Kira from the source material. She was a Japanese Pop Star who wanted to personally thank Kira after he killed the man who murdered her parents. By sheer coincidence, she came to possess her own Death Note and even more power than Light, thus how she was able to find him and become his girlfriend. Many people complain how she was not entirely necessary for most of the story, and I am willing to agree. Her character in the source material never seemed to go beyond “Love me, Senpai” and thus her intelligence in the later seasons suffered greatly. In the film, ironically, Mia is more like Light Yagami than Light Turner was for most of the film. She was the Id to Light’s Ego, as she constantly strived to eliminate all opposing forces, going so far as to plan ahead for certain scenarios. She was manipulative towards Light and vindictive to all who opposed KIRA. This would have made for an interesting twist, but by the time the climax was happening and everyone was going all in, I just couldn’t bother to care anymore.

Speaking of not caring, that is exactly how I believe the writers felt about the original, true version of L; they didn’t care, so they just made their own version. L in the source material was an orphan with a brilliant mind, one very similar to Sherlock Holmes. His soon to be butler and father figure Watari raised him at an orphanage where other children would soon be raised to succeed him should the need ever arise. This was due to the fact that L soon became a detective of then unparalleled genius and determination, solving all sorts of previously difficult or unsolved cases left and right until the day when KIRA became a looming threat. He is seen as secretive, emotionless, analytical, and deceptive in spite of his disheveled appearance. He is the perfect man to take on a mysterious psychopath like KIRA, be it from the shadows to keep his identity a secret, or face to face under a slew of fake names and aliases. Now, take all of that, and completely ignore it in this film. Netflix L is an overemotional child who openly mocks and taunts KIRA in the open without any form of protection other than a mask. He just comes out and says “HI, I will be your L for the evening!” And don’t get me started on him emotionally freaking out about losing control over the case to the point of actually holding a gun to Light’s head.

But what about Ryuk, the one character I was actually looking forward to seeing on the screen? Well, he is a mixed bag for me. On the one hand, I do actually like the way he looks, the effects are mostly practical and you do believe he is in the room...from the neck down. From the neck up, in spite of some moments, you can tell that the CGI isn’t registering as realistic to your eyes, so all you’re thinking is that Ryuk is just a man with either a green face mask or motion capture dots on his head. As for his character, Ryuk has apparently been a traitorous backstabber who has been passing down the Death Note for generations who constantly taunts Light for not just simply killing everyone who opposes him. All he’s really meant to do in this version is exposit rules about the notebook (most of which don’t even exist in the source material), laugh a bit and look scary. And yes, while the original Ryuk did that, he never came off as a threat rather than an interested bystander. Ryuk was a shinigami who just got bored in his world one day, as all you can really do in a world full of immortal death gods is gamble and sleep so long as you write enough names in your notebook to keep yourself alive. He sees how Light uses the Death Note and basically hangs around to watch the show and laugh at the funny humans until Light either gives up the notebook or dies. That’s what I like about the original Ryuk, he’s just a spectator and is thus an odd reflection of the audience.Netflix Ryuk is just a spiteful spirit who is more interested in Mia than Light.

So, you have failure across the board for all of the iconic characters, Not even the secondary characters like Light’s Dad or Watari get a pass, as they either have no character at all or the character we are given is so poorly written or overdone that we just do not care about them. Every character just felt so two-dimensional that I felt like I was watching a film starring a cast of cardboard cutouts. The only one who gave somewhat of a good performance was the tag team of Willem Dafoe as Ryuk’s voice and the poor shlub who had to physically be Ryuk.

And the effects...lordy the effects. When it comes to the deaths in this film, they are somewhat gruesome if not ridiculous. The first two deaths are reminiscent of Final Destination, as they are executed through what I can only describe as a Rube Goldberg Machine of Coincidence, and when the payoff comes watch out! There’s so much blood and gore, I’m surprised the town wasn’t painted red by the end of the movie. While death is kind of a big deal in this franchise, the way the film executed it was quite silly if not sickening.

So, in the end, Netflix’s Death Note was not a good film. It’s not even good in the “so bad, it’s good kind of way.” Fans will hate it because of how much it gets wrong and casual observers will just be bored and confused by it. I understand that when it comes to making an adaptation, some things need to be changed or erased, but when die hard fans of the source material leave your film feeling so much agitation that they want to make an entry in their sub-par blog(s) to talk about why it doesn’t work by repeatedly comparing it to the source material, perhaps it would have been better not to make your film in the first place. So, unless you like torture, avoid this film.

In the meantime, never stop rambling, TM