#i can excuse the extermination of all life but i draw the line at | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

panharmonium · 3 years

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is that meant to be an excuse

the WAY kakashi turns his back on the eldest and most highly-ranked officials in the village

and then he up and walks out of the room while koharu is in the middle of her next sentence

literally he just - walks out. he doesn’t excuse himself or say goodbye or bow. he doesn’t even let her finish speaking. he leaves while she’s in the middle of talking and then shuts the door in her face.

file this next to ‘kakashi faces down orochimaru’ in the drawer of kakashi’s most badass moments. the level of disrespect kakashi broadcasts here is staggering - in no way would his behavior during this conversation be considered acceptable by anyone who doesn’t understand the context, but he isn’t just being an arrogant little shit for no reason, and this isn’t simply a right-wing/left-wing philosophy clash, either. kakashi just learned all the dirty details about the uchiha massacre. he knows what these two did.

even though kakashi is the one who reminds naruto (rightly) that they can’t just unquestioningly accept any story madara uchiha tells them, he acts this way with the councilors here because deep down, he believes what he’s been told. he can’t say anything about it until he has proof, and he’s too smart to act on information that could still be a lie intended to destabilize the Leaf’s rebuilding efforts, but he’s clearly been thinking about it ever since madara appeared in the Land of Iron, and we can see here that ultimately, after doing his own internal analysis, the conclusion he’s drawn is that madara was probably telling them the truth. however shocking and impossible a state-sponsored genocide + subsequent cover-up may have sounded to kakashi at first (and however much he may not have wanted to entertain the possibility of it having occurred), he suspects that madara’s information is true. he thinks this is probably what happened.

it’s not a conclusion he draws without cause, i don’t think. i imagine that for kakashi, this revelation feels more like a blurry picture coming into focus, as if he’s finally received the key to decrypting something that never made sense to him. i’m watching this show for the first time, so there are some things i’m not clear on, but my impression is that kakashi knew itachi through ANBU before the uchiha massacre went down, and if that were the case, then i can only imagine how incomprehensible his crimes must have seemed at the time, to people who were familiar with him - it must have sounded impossible. but kakashi and everyone else just had to accept itachi’s sudden turnaround as the reality, because impossible as it seemed, there was no alternative explanation for what happened.

but now, though - kakashi’s not stupid. he is, per naruto’s own words, smarter than shikamaru. as soon as madara uchiha presents him with a different possibility, things that never made sense before start to fall into place. all the incomprehensible puzzle pieces that never fit together finally start to make sense within a bigger picture. sasuke’s survival. itachi being careless enough to let himself be spotted and accosted in the hidden leaf before he could get anywhere near naruto. danzo sending sai to assassinate sasuke without tsunade’s knowledge or permission. sai’s curse mark. the report gaara gives kakashi about the five kage summit (where danzo was discovered to have stolen shisui uchiha’s sharingan eye). and this -

kakashi can’t act without proof, but he knows. he knows it’s true. for the first time in years, things actually feel like they make sense. and now, in this episode, he’s supposed to report to these two councilors as if he doesn’t know that they aided and abetted in a genocide against sasuke’s people, coerced a child into murdering his own community, covered the whole thing up, and are currently trying to get rid of the evidence by having sasuke assassinated?

kakashi can’t say anything yet, but he is coldly furious. that narrowed eye says everything. he knows he has to keep his mouth shut, because technically this could all still be a fabrication, and even if it’s not a lie, tipping his hand too soon could prompt the destruction of any evidence that might eventually enable this crime to be proven and dragged into the light, but the way he slaps these elders with disrespect here speaks volumes. the cold contempt in his voice, the way he turns his back to them, the way he walks out of the room while they’re in the middle of a sentence - is that meant to be an excuse?

a reminder, for perspective: kakashi just returned from a confrontation where he thought he was going to have to kill his own kid because sasuke was so unbalanced by rage and pain and grief that he felt irresistibly compelled to destroy everything and everyone in his path, and now kakashi is supposed to just sit here and be deferent to the people who started this whole ball rolling years and years ago, back when sasuke and itachi were both just innocent children?

no. he shows them his back. he shuts the door in their faces. he does everything except flat-out tell them “i know what you did,” and while they may not know exactly why he’s behaving like this, they definitely know that the new hokage isn’t interested in any of their “advice.”

one other thought before i wrap this up: kakashi is the LAST person these two would ever have wanted to find out about their misdeeds. he’s not some isolated child coming apart at the seams who can be discredited and eliminated - he’s one of the most renowned and respected jonin in their village (in ALL the villages of the shinobi world, in fact). he’s also not distant enough from the situation to brush off these accusations as nothing more than rumor - he’s too intimately connected to the uchiha, to sasuke, to itachi, to obito, to the legacy of a dead community and the rightful inheritance that he carries inside his own body. and most importantly of all, he’s not indoctrinated enough to accept whatever cold, shinobi-code calculations these people would try to use to justify their decision.

kakashi doesn’t care if the shinobi code says the extermination of the uchiha clan was an acceptable loss. doing the right thing in defiance of the shinobi code was young!kakashi’s entire character arc. he used to be the “fall in line” kid, because he thought following the rules could protect him from pain, but after his friend teaches him a better way to be, he chooses to upend his entire life and reinvent himself in that friend’s image. kakashi has remodeled himself after rulebreakers - specifically, people who refused to sacrifice the lives of others for the sake of a nebulous “greater good,” despite society’s rigid demands that they do so. one of those people was his own father, a man who was crucified and ultimately destroyed by the culture he rejected, and the other was obito uchiha - a member of the same clan that danzo and the Leaf administration chose to sacrifice for the so-called “greater good” of the community.

kakashi will never accept any excuses for that. he will never give the administration a free pass on slaughter, even slaughter for the sake of a future “peace.” the entire foundation upon which he’s built his post-obito philosophy is that you can’t sacrifice others for the sake of your mission, not even if the rules say it must be done. you can give up your own life, yes. but you NEVER offer up somebody else’s. it’s not a right or worthy thing to do, and it never creates a lasting peace - as we’re seeing right now, with sasuke’s retribution.

when you get right down to it, kakashi is this administration’s worst nightmare. i am really looking forward to the day he and sasuke and yamato and naruto can finally blow this conspiracy wide open.

#long post #this whole thing had me remembering how kakashi talked to kakuzu before killing him #that whole speech he makes about how he and the kids are the new generation and the old generation's time is over #'it's no wonder you see us as brats. but it cuts both ways.'#'to our eyes you're just an old geezer whose time is over.'#and so here you are - dying. hugging the earth like a worm.'#'one by one the new generation will catch up to you'#'and in the end they'll surpass you.'#the village elders are in the same situation #their time is done #the new generation IS catching up to them #all of their sins are going to be exposed #and the old way of doing things is going to be dumped and recognized for what it is - evil #can't wait to see that happen honestly #naruto #pan watches naruto #meta #i got lost on the path of life

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

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May I have a scenario/imagine, whichever makes more sense, of Trey, Rook, and Crewel trying to tame some sort of wild, magical invasive species of Poison Ivy that has taken over the greenhouse?

Crewel gives me perpetually disappointed wine aunt father vibes. This piece also lowkey turned out to be Trey x Rook, but you didn’t read that from me.

This imagine’s longer than my usual 1k word self-imposed limit, since it goes out to a friend of mine that’s been supporting me through final projects and exams. I’m not sure if they’d want me tagging them so publicly, but they know who they are.

Imagine this...

To Professor Crewel’s chagrin, members of the Science Club had never had strong academic intent. In actuality, the club was a thinly veiled excuse to bake cakes (just to find the perfect ratio of leaveners and sweeteners!) and to stalk watch students in their natural habitats (nothing wrong with an impromptu observational study, right?). Instead of test tubes and beakers, the lab benches were littered with cake pans and photographs of unsuspecting Savanaclaw students.

“I do wish you two would take this club more seriously,” Crewel would often gripe, fingers massaging his temples. “Science is not a play thing, it is a powerful tool with which we can use to redefine and reshape the world around us.”

Such were the woes of an instructor--but today, he had no time to lament.

Crewel’s jaw tightened as he gazed upon a sprawling mess--the shattered glass panes of the Botanical Garden, with massive stalks of ivy reaching for the skies. Casualties lined the ground--plants and flowers drained dry of their life, all withered and decayed. The ivy writhed in glee.

(He shouldn’t have been surprised that the headmaster summoned him and the Science Club to resolve the issue instead of hiring a real exterminator.)

“How unseemly,” Crewel noted, clicking his tongue. “Running amok and ruining so many of the specimens we’ve carefully cultivated... This shall not go unpunished.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Clover.”

“Yes.” Trey stepped forward, his magical pen ready.

“Hunt.”

“Oui.” Rook followed suit, smoothly drawing forth his own pen.

“The time has come to prove your mettle,” Crewel announced, rapping his pointer against his palm. His onyx eyes seethed with a quiet, controlled rage. “Show this overgrown weed what the Science Club is truly capable of.”

At his command, the boys nodded and tore off toward the Botanical Garden.

Crewel held his ground. The corners of his mouth curled into a condescending smirk as he addressed the poison ivy. “Come here.”

An arm of ivy flew at him, so fast that it was but a blur.

An alive, but livid, blur.

“Heel!”

A column of fire erupted from Crewel’s pointer. His attack slammed against the plant, settings its leaves awash in embers. The rogue plant let out a sky-splitting roar.

The battle had just begun.

Trey ducked under an arc of burning ivy and threw open the door to the Botanical Garden. Tucking his limbs in, he barreled through right as more ivy snaked in to seal off the entrance once more.

He could feel the heat upon his back, the earth quaking under his feet, and Rook close behind him--yet he willed himself to keep his eyes glued ahead, even as he launched across the threshold and into a terrifying new realm.

The inside of the greenhouse now glistened with ivy--covering the glass panes, slowly strangling what few plants remained. The Botanical Garden had always been warm before, but it was unusually so today. Sweltering, and almost so humid that the floors and walls seem to eerily pulsate with life.

“Keep your wits about you, and don’t look back, boys,” Crewel had instructed them. “Just get in there, and cut it off at its source--at the heart.”

Trey’s eyes darted this way and that. Green, green, green. It all looked the same to him. Where in the world was the point of origin?

“Got any ideas?!” He glanced over his shoulder at his partner--and his protective goggles nearly went askew.

Rook had dropped to one knee, pressing a gloved hand against the floor--now a carpet of vines. “Hoooh! What a fascinating specimen!” he marveled. “Such destructive power, and yet it also sports this emerald sheen... Très manifique!”

“H-Hey... No offense, but I don’t think now’s the time to stop and sniff the roses. Or, well. I guess it would be ivy in this case.”

“Non, non! There is always time for beauty--even in dire situations!” Rook insisted, his hands continuing to grope around. His eyes suddenly creased, and his smile turned sly. “Ah, te voilà.”

“Even if you say that, that’s not going to help us fix this...!!”

“Calm yourself, Chevalier des Roses,” Rook advised with an airy laugh. He cupped a hand to his ear and beamed. “Listen closely! Surely even your own heart beckons you to still your worries.”

“Heart?” Trey straightened, adamant as he folded his arms. “Sorry, but I just don’t believe in stuff like that. Come on, Rook. We need to focus--Crewel-sensei’s trusting us with this task.”

He cast a concerned glance at the doorway, ensnared in vines. They’d have to blast their way through later--but if they stayed in this space for too long, they, too, would soon be drained of all their life force. “We can’t just mess around!”

“Ah--but you must put your faith in me as well, Chevalier des Roses!” Rook insisted, pointing to the patch of floor that he had been not-too-subtly groping earlier. “I implore you to lend me your strength!”

“You want me to attack the gr--?!” Trey froze mid-sentence. He had become vaguely aware of a gentle sensation creeping around his ankles.

In an instant, he was yanked into the air, dangling upside down like a useless rag doll. Blood rushed to his head, and his surroundings spun.

“Chevalier des Roses!!”

“I’m fine!! I-I’m fine!” Trey called--though he clearly wasn’t. “I can just--” He waved his magical pen, the air growing tense as a small ball of fire collected at his command.

“Non!” Rook warned, startling his classmate. “There is nothing to cushion your descent, mon amie! You will surely break a leg--and certainly not in the theatrical sense!”

He’s right. Trey’s fire extinguished itself, replaced by a chill crawling down his spine.

“A little help then?!”

Rook’s eyes widened. “You would give me your trust?”

“Not exactly like I have any other choice.” Trey would shrug, but it was a rather difficult motion to pull off while suspended midair--and far more troublesome, his veins ran cold. It was a sure sign of the ivy sapping his energy.

“Have no fear! Today, it shall be my turn to be the chevalier.” The hunter grinned from ear to ear, magical pen in hand.

“Please, Rook! Any day now--before I become plant food!” Trey’s voice was hoarse--from exasperation, or from the magical ivy, he wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps both.

“Just for today, I shall be your Chevalier D’amour.”

And with a confident wink, Rook plunged the ivy-covered floor into a sea of flames.

The accursed plant wailed as it shriveled to ash upon a backdrop of billowing smoke. Embers flickered and danced in the afternoon, the Botanical Garden set ablaze. Crewel took a step back, grimacing at the growing fire.

A figure emerged from the greenhouse, carrying another. The professor squinted into the smoke, pinpointing the familiar outline of his Science Club members--Rook, cradling a pale-looking Trey in his strong arms.

“Puppies.” Crewel pinched his temples.

“C’est chose faite--it is now done.” The brim of Rook’s hat eclipsed his eyes, making the typically cheery hunter appear dark to match his tone. Then he lifted his head, basking in the sunshine, and that somber moment was over. “All is well and good again, as it should be!”

“I... I thought I was going to die,” Trey groaned. “... And Rook, I appreciate you catching my fall, but you didn’t need to carry me out like you’re an action hero in a movie or something.”

“Are you able to still stand after an attack from that heinous plant?”

“Yeah. Just put me down.”

“Oui.”

Trey stood on shaky legs--and instinctively leaned on Rook’s shoulder.

“Well, boys. You’ve exterminated the ivy--as well as just about every other plant in the Botanical Garden. How exactly do you intend to atone for this?!” Crewel snapped, whipping his pointer at his students. “I believe my instructions were quite clear--destroy only the heart of the ivy.”

“The fault lies with me, Monsieur,” Rook declared, dipping into a bow. “We dallied for longer than was necessary, and in a moment of panic, I unleashed my magic.”

“Always one with a flair for the dramatic. Unfortunately, that will not serve you well in detention, Hunt.”

“Wait. Crewel-sensei, that’s not the whole story,” Trey interrupted. “Rook got me out of a pinch--and he deserves credit for that. He’s also the one that found out where the ivy’s heart was--buried in the floor itself. I didn’t realize until it was too late.”

The professor’s lips pursed into a straight line. “Clover, are you confessing to your own negligence?”

“I am.” He nodded firmly. “I’m the one that deserves the detention.”

“Trey-kun is not responsible!” Rook protested. “He is the one that attempted to set us on the right path. I refused to heed his advice, which led to events escalating.”

“I didn’t listen to Rook when he tried to tell me about what I needed to do.”

“I should have phrased it more concisely.”

“You--”

“Trey-kun--”

“Enough. It is clear to me that both of you contributed to this chaos.” Crewel sighed. “... Hunt, take Clover to the infirmary. I will put out the fire myself.

“... Are you letting us go?”

“Of course not. Once you’ve recovered, Clover... you boys will be restoring plants in the Botanical Garden for the remainder of the semester as punishment.”

“Ahhh, I should’ve known. Riddle’s not gonna like this at all.”

“Chin up, Chevalier des Roses! At the very least, we shall have each other’s company!” Rook laughs, smacking Trey on the back and sending his peer nearly doubling over.

Crewel sighed once more--he was disappointed, but not surprised.

His Science Club puppies still had a long way to go.

#twst #Divus Crewel #Trey Clover #Rook Hunt #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland requests #twisted wonderland scenarios #imagine this

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buns-with-a-book · 4 years

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Deflowered

A sequel to Flowers of White, completely spicy. So much spice. Includes SDT spice.

There’s two poems in this fic. The second one was written by furyeclipse

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: OC/Vergil, Dante Tags: @nimnox @furyeclipse @synchronmurmurs @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz

Summary: Vergil despises the scent of another man, of Draco, on the person he considers his. The scent infuriates him, enough to make him act on more base desires.

Days after they crashed her ‘wedding’, he can still smell him on her.

His demonic blood gave him heightened senses, hearing and smell and speed. It usually was a blessing but, in this moment, it was a curse. He can smell that scum, the scent of silver and sage and too-expensive cologne, still lingering around her. A part of him, a deep base beast that he sometimes wishes would just quiet down, snarls every time she passed by him before promptly filling him with shame for snarling at her when the whole affair was no fault of her own.

How dare Draco, a pathetic excuse of a man who had shown nothing but disapproval and dismissal, believe himself worthy of Cassandra? Cassandra was nothing short of extraordinary, the blood of a warrior-saint in her veins. A part of him was always in awe of how she maneuvered herself on the battlefield, brave and bold and unafraid of the demons they faced. That fool would never know the joy that burned in those deep green eyes of hers when they got paid for exterminating demons, the determination when they clashed in the training room, the way they sparkled with amusement at whatever foolery Dante got into. Draco would never know that and he was certain he didn’t care.

Cassandra was far more than just her ancestor, far more than just the daughter of a warrior-saint. She was a queen. A queen that Draco would never respect, would never appreciate, never be worthy of. (And, if he was honest with himself, he wondered if he himself was worthy of her as well).

“Verge? Earth to Verge?”

Vergil blinked, seeing Dante’s hand waving in front of his face. He was sitting on the couch in Devil May Cry, the setting sun casting long shadows across the shop. Dante was hovering next to him, a curious but playful smile on his face.

“Dante, I’m right here.” Vergil slapped his brother’s hand away from his face.

“Yeah, sure you were.” He smiled and sat down, the couch dipping as he settled next to his twin. “I know that look of yours when you’re thinking really hard. What’s stewin?”

“The best way to get rid of you.” Vergil replied dryly, a spectral sword appearing by his will and pointed at Dante. Dante laughed, of course he would laugh.

“Nah, I feel like trying my luck.”

“Your very horrible luck, you mean.” Vergil raised an eyebrow. Despite his mild irritation, it wasn’t enough to skewer him yet. “I believe even Lady can attest to how rotten it can be.”

“I can be lucky every once in a while!”

“Like a broken clock can be right twice a day.” Vergil snapped his book shut, finally admitting defeat. “I’m...afraid my mind still wanders back to the day we crashed Draco’s wedding. I can still smell him and it infuriates me, like an unwelcome stench that refuses to leave.”

“Yeah, I understand.” Dante hummed. “You two should go on a date.” Vergil could feel heat rising in his cheeks.

“A...date?”

“Yeah! Get your mind off the whole wedding shit.” Dante waved his hand. Vergil closed his eyes in thought.

“Perhaps star-gazing. It’s nice and relaxing, a reprieve we need from...that event.” Even mentioning it left a foul taste in his mouth, Vergil thought with a scowl. Dante let out a soft chuckle, seemingly unaware of Vergil’s inner turmoil...but Vergil noticed the mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

“Well, there’s this nice forest outside of Red Grave. You can hike to the top and maybe get some ac- OOF!” Vergil promptly whacked him upside the head. “OW! Jeez, I’m trying to help...”

“Your idea of help is not actually help.”

“Look, I know what’s going on with you. You’re pissy another dude touched Cass when that’s your job. God Verge, you’re so easy to read when you’re angry.” Dante crossed his arms. Vergil just stared at him, not sure what to say. On one hand, Dante wasn’t wrong: the thought of Draco touching Cassandra in any capacity infuriated him to no end. On the other hand...did he have to say it so brazenly?! It always infuriated him that Dante had no shame. While Cassandra was more than willing to encourage him in his shamelessness (because she found it hilarious when that very shamelessness got him in trouble), Vergil had to draw the line somewhere.

“...if she consents.” Vergil said, standing up stiffly. “I will ask about...a date.”

“If you don’t run away from being awk-” And that was when the sword slammed down into the floor, barely missing Dante’s knee. “Hey!” Vergil ignored his exclamation as he made his way into the kitchen, where he saw Cassandra enter. Sliding his book into his jacket, he entered the kitchen to see Cassandra hard at work. A savory scent wafted through the kitchen as Cassandra stirred up waffle batter for baking. Aside her stirring bowl was cheese, tomato sauce, and herbs. He smirked, knowing that tonight’s dinner was pizza waffles.

“Hi Vergil.” Cassandra said quickly. “What do you need? As long as it’s not pestering me to finish up din-”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Vergil shook his head, earning a confused noise from her. “I would like to know if you would like to go on a date with me.”

“You sound like you’re trying to ask me out for the first time.” Cassandra said with a soft chuckle. Before he could object, she continued. “I’d love to go on a date. A nice simple date, maybe we can go stargazing on the roof.”

“On the roof of Devil May Cry?” He asked.

“Not in the mood to go anywhere for a bit. If we can stay home, I’d go for it.” A part of him, that hungry beast inside him, purred appreciatively at the idea. He watched her work on dinner.

“As you wish.” A faint smile crept on his face as he watched her work. It seemed like that little affair was nothing more than a bad memory, a memory that was rapidly fading. As she poured the finished batter into the waffle-maker, Vergil’s eyes fluttered closed as he leaned against the doorframe. The sound of her making dinner was...surprisingly soothing. The fact that he could indulge in domestic scenarios like this was a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. He could only barely remember the last time he was this peaceful, the feeling of contentment with his life being foreign to him. If he had to recall, it would be back in his childhood, before the attack that changed his fate forever. But now, he had that...peace in his life. Reunited with his brother, slowly bonding over the son he only recently found out existed, and with a woman who cared about Nero just as much as he did (but more openly. Vergil being open with his emotions remained a struggle that he tried hard to work through), he was just...happy.

He opened his eyes, watching as Cassandra finished with the waffles. She drizzled tomato sauce, cheese, and basil all over them. Setting the plate on the table, she walked past him. His nose caught her scent, of herbs and morning mist and too-expensive colog-

No. That was Draco. The beast roiled at the scent. He flinched, thankful that Cassandra wasn’t nearby to notice it.

“Dante! Dinner!” She called before slipping back into the kitchen, followed by Dante padding his way after her call. He rounded around Vergil, pausing next to his brother.

“Did you ask her out?” He asked, ice blue eyes glimmering mischievously.

“Yes.”

“Did she say yes?”

“Of course I did Dante.” Cassandra huffed. “We’re gonna go stargazing on the roof of Devil May Cry in the future.”

“How romantic.” Dante hummed. “I mean, aside from the whole ‘sitting on the roof’-”

“I’m sure it’ll be romantic somehow. Vergil’s very good at reciting poetry.” Cassandra said as she prepared a second plate of pizza waffles. She ignored the sound of Dante gagging. “Yeah yeah, you keep gagging all you want mister ‘has rotten luck with the ladies’.”

“Ow!” Dante whined. “That huuurts.”

“It hurts because it’s true.” Vergil added.

“Beating up on your own brother…” He sighed in mock defeat. “You two are mean.”

“That’s our job.” Cassandra winked at Dante before handing Vergil the plate of pizza waffles. Vergil took the plate and the fork Cassandra offered before sitting down next to Dante. Cassandra made one last plate of pizza waffles for herself, humming softly as the waffle-maker did it’s work. Vergil closed his eyes, quietly eating what she had served. He remembered the first time she made this meal, and how quickly he made his distaste known until he actually tried it. It was this very dish that made him only occasionally question what Cassandra made (most of the time, as he had come to understand it, some of her more stranger options was just to get Dante to eat more than just pizza and sundaes).

His mind moved away from that memory, to that promised date. If the devil within decided to behave, perhaps it would be just a gentle and loving affair, as she deserved after such tribulation. But it all hinged on if the devil inside him behaved. And if even the slightest hint of that scum’s scent sent it into a huffy rage…

He wasn’t too sure how he would deal with that.

---

The skies of Red Grave City were clear, the summer stars shining brightly above them. As most of Red Grave had been ripped apart, the light pollution was not as strong as it used to be, providing one with a clear view of the stars above. Normally, every reminder of the destruction of the city stung Vergil’s heart with guilt, even if he wasn’t in the right mind when he did stab himself with Yamato.

It was here, on the roof of Devil May Cry, that Vergil found Cassandra. In his hand were three books of poetry, one of Shakespearean Sonnets, his prized book of Blake, and a small notebook he kept in his coat pocket. Cassandra had given it to him on his birthday (a day he usually forgot). He had taken that notebook and tried his own hand at poetry. It’s quality was...questionable but, according to Nero, it was passable. Cassandra was busy smoothing out a large plush blanket on the floor of the roof. Not too far away was a basket, full of sweet and savory snacks to pass the time. Very faintly, in the far distance, he swore he heard a piano playing. Returning his gaze to Cassandra, her attire was a simple deep blue dress, the thin linen fluttering with her movements.

He was right, he thought with a soft smirk. Blue did look good on her.

“Vergil, I can feel you staring.” Her words, accented with a tease, made his heart jump. He hid his brief surprise as he strode to her, sitting down on the blanket next to her. She smiled to him, laying herself down on the soft blanket. Vergil shed his coat, setting it next to the blasket of food. He set the books down on his coat. She laid down on the blanket, Vergil settling himself next to her as he took out his book of Shakespearean sonnets.

“Shakespear?” She asked, staring at the beautifully decorated book curiously.

“Why not?” He asked in turn. Cassandra laughed.

“You got me there, Mr. Poetry.” She pecked his cheek before laying down. Vergil settled down next to her and opened the book, flipping through the sonnets until he found an acceptable one. With that, he began to read.

Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all; What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call; All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more. Then if for my love thou my love receivest, I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest; But yet be blam'd, if thou thyself deceivest By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief, Although thou steal thee all my poverty; And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief To bear love's wrong, than hate's known injury. Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows, Kill me with spites, yet we must not be foes.

Cassandra hummed thoughtfully as he finished reading. “That’s not 18, is it?”

“No. Too overdone. This one is his fortieth sonnet.” Vergil explained.

“Hm. 18 is a classic for a reason.” She hummed.

“Every man woos their lover with 18.” He countered. “But you are no ordinary woman, Cassandra.”

“I’m the only one that’s knocked you on your ass.” She said proudly, earning a chuckle from him.

“I believe that was because you pulled a cheap tactic on me.”

“That was one time Vergil!” Cassandra playfully whacked his shoulder. Vergil sat up, placing the book of Shakespere away. His hand took his small notebook, to which Cassandra raised an eyebrow at. “What’s that for?”

“...I’ve been practicing poetry myself.” He admitted, flipping through the pages. “It’s a hobby I’ve been working on when I am not busy.”

“Aww…” She smiled, retaking her place at his side. She rest her head on his shoulder. “Which one are you going to read?”

“Reclaim. My 78th poem.”

“78!? You either have a lot of downtime or you have a lot of ideas to immortalize in poetic form.”

“A little of both.” He smiled at her surprise. “Shall I begin?”

“Yes, please.” She rested a hand on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, his hand resting on her back, and began to read.

The rightful queen came home today. She came back with her head high, Proudly bringing the slain man's head for all to see. The dress of white was gifted to the winds and carried away. It's shameful imitation of fabric no longer touched her. Now she's taken back her rightful crown, The light basked in her glory as she came to her knight.

She tilted her head, just a little, and suddenly that scent came back to him. Caught off guard, he let go of the book. It landed on his face rather ungracefully, earning a surprised gasp from Cassandra.

“Vergil?”

“I...I’m fine.” He grumbled.

“I doubt it. You’ve been...stiff ever since we came back from Rothes.” She sat up a little. “What’s going on?” Vergil lifted the notebook off his face, meeting her dark green eyes. They were searching him, trying to find out the answer to his state. He let out a sigh, setting the notebook back with his books. He sat up, helping her into a sitting up position, and turned to her.

“That man...Draco, his stench clings to you. It infuriates the devil inside me. It is of no fault of your own. You did what you had to do to save Nero and I am grateful for your bravery.” He paused, taking in a breath. “It still does not change the fact that Draco dared to touch you, dared to be in your presence when he is not worthy of it…”

“You’re jealous.” And there it was, that simple succinct phrase. “Does that mean your devil considers me a mate or something?”

“Along that line, yes.” He sighed.

“So…” Cassandra’s eyes were closed, the spellblade warrior deep in thought. “Your devil considers me as a mate and Draco’s shit caused them to get jealous and see Draco as competition. Does that sound right?” She opened her eyes, seeing Vergil’s confirmation. He nodded. “Ok, so, how do we deal with this problem?” There was a quiet that fell between them, Vergil’s eyes fluttering closed to think. He could feel Cassandra’s gaze on him, intense and searching for an answer to the predicament. Vergil knew the answer but his pride refused to let him say it. “Is it sex.”

“What?” He blinked.

“If it wasn’t something like that, then you would’ve said it by now.” Vergil looked away, a blush on his face. “What? I’m not wrong. You never mince words about what needs to be done to solve a problem unless it’s salacious.” And indeed, she wasn’t wrong. Vergil let out a sigh.

“You are...correct. Specifically, it involves scenting.” He could feel his face burn as he spoke. “It’s...messy.”

“We have a bath. And we paid the water bill for the month.” Cassandra said. “Are you afraid I won’t like it? Or I won’t like what will happen.”

“No. It is the fact that all this was born out of a desire to possess you. And you deserve more than someone who refuses to let go.” Cassandra mulled over his words.

“Earthmother help me, you’re such a gentleman deep down.” She said with a smile. She gently took Vergil’s chin, guiding him to face her. “If you’re worried about me consenting, then don’t worry. Of course I’d consent. I know you know your strength and I trust you to not break me too much.” Her hand moved down to take his hands. “You wield Yamato so skillfully, after all. I’m sure you can control yourself or drive me mad with pleasure.” She glanced up and gave him a wink. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re insatiable.” He breathed.

“I know.” With that, she leaned forward to kiss him. Her hand rested on his hip, the other threading through his silvery-white hair. She gently nipped at his lips, earning a soft surprised gasp. She slid her tongue inside quickly, taking advantage of his surprise to establish her dominance. He chuckled into the kiss, slowly tipping her back onto the blanket. The hand on his hip moved to rub his groin, earning a low groan from the half-devil above her. He pulled back, earning a soft gasp from her. He leaned back, pulling the dress off her. She aided him in the effort, pulling the soft fabric off her. He leaned back, carefully pulling off his vest. He could see the hunger and appreciation in her eyes, she didn’t even try to hide it. Placing the vest next to her dress, he worked on sliding his pants off. His eyes flicked to Cassandra, who was reaching back to undo her bra. He took in a soft breath, watching as it fell away. He pulled off his pants, noticing how Cassandra’s gaze flicked down to his groin and thighs.

“Yes?”

“Lace underwear, huh?” Cassandra asked, quite obviously amused. He tensed for a moment.

“The other options chafe. It’s distracting.”

“I like it.” She leaned forward, pulling the waistband of his underwear and pulling it back and down, exposing his cock. “And it makes your dick look that much more appetizing.” She smirked at his blushing face, pulling him out of his underwear. “And those thighs? To die for.”

“Are you going to spend the rest of the night showering me with compliments?”

“I might.” She winked. “But I’m not wrong.” She reached down, stroking Vergil’s cock. He let out a grunt, eyes fluttering closed. “That’s a look…” She murmured.

“You drive me mad.” She felt his hand grab her hair. “You insatiable harlot.” She grinned at him, meeting his smirk. Before she could reply, he forced her down onto her back. He presented his cock to her. Quickly getting the hint, she took the tip into her mouth and sucked, swirling her tongue around the slit. He let out a grunt, his hand gripping just a little tighter on her hair. He remained still, groaning softly as she leaned forward, bobbing her head on his cock. Vergil groaned as she worked, her hands moving up to massage his thighs, the very part of him she praised to high heavens.

Well, not that hers were lacking in any manner. But that was neither here nor there. His more immediate focus was on Cassandra, his ice blue eyes meeting her dark green. That half-lidded sultry look made him shiver, a look that shot down his spine and made his cock throb. That deep base beast rumbled with approval at the sight...and it wanted more. Despite his attempts to stay in control, the beast within refused. He could feel his body shift and change, slowly as his control loosened. He growled as his load poured down her throat. With the last of his control, he moved back. In moments, he transformed with a burst of demonic energy.

Cassandra stared at the now transformed devil hovering over her, wings flared out behind him. The chill of the oncoming night was gone, replaced by the warmth that radiated from the very devil she was admiring. The devil let out a slow exhale, blue meeting green. She looked up and down the devil’s armored body, the deep blue that pulsated like a glowing heart from his chest to his flared wings. She could hear his tail swaying slowly behind him, faintly seeing the sharpened tip from behind his wings. He shifted back a little, as if he was worried that he had startled her.

“Wow...hot.” Cassandra said, earning an amused rumble from the devil hovering above her. Cassandra sat up, her hand reaching up to cup the side of his face. The devil leaned into her hand, warm against her skin. She smiled at the sight. “What? You thought I would be running for my life at the sight of you?”

“...a little.” He rumbled, voice warped from the demonic energy. “From the shock of my transformation.”

“You’re such a gentleman.” She took his hand and gave the warm palm a kiss. With a pleased rumble, he slowly moved his way down to her thighs. He pushed her thighs apart, noticing Cassandra shiver at the claws that pressed into her skin. Vergil leaned forward, his tongue rubbing slowly against her cunt. It rubbed up and down her slick folds, occasionally rolling around her clit, before moving down to push inside her. She gasped out, her hand reaching down to grab his horn. She pulled him closer to her, wanting to feel more of his tongue against her. Her body shook as he gave her more of what she wanted, his tongue lapping up her juices. Cassandra began to grind her hips against his mouth, shivering at the sensations.

He pulled back, letting out a pleased rumble. Cassandra lifted herself up a little by her elbows, looking down to Vergil’s groin. The carapace protecting his cock had split open, revealing a girthy slick blue cock. The bulbous head was slightly larger than the ridged shaft and, at what she presumed was at the base of his sac, was a knot. The scent that reached her made her shiver, a wave of arousal washing over her.

“Shit…” She panted. What was it about the heady scent that just seemed to make her wetter? She was certain Vergil could tell she was more than aroused, more than ready for him, but he restrained himself. “Veergill…” She whined.

“Yes, my love?”

“Nnn...please, just fuck me.” She panted. She could barely think, the heat at her core was almost overwhelming. She faintly heard a soft but warm hum before the tip of his cock rubbed at her entrance. Her body burned with unbridled lust at the contact, a cry of pleasure ripped from her. The devil pushed the tip into her, earning breathy moans from his writhing mate. With the tip inside her, he paused and looked at her. Even with only the tip inside, he could sense her trying to pull him in. He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. She reached up, holding tight onto his scaled body. She let out a whine as he pushed forward, sinking more of his cock into her. He could feel her walls squeeze and ripple around him, a sensation that made it difficult to not start thrusting right then and there. The devil let out a slow exhale, trying to not thrust with wild abandon, not yet.

Until she pulled him close, pressing her lips against his fangs. It did him in.

With an aroused growl, the devil began to thrust hard. He felt her legs hoist around his armored midsection. In the back of his mind, he knew she would come out of this scratched up. He would take care of that later, his mind too focused on the unbridled lust that was spurred on by her moans and cries of pleasure. His wings dug into the blanket below, growling as he thrust into her shaking form. The warmth that surrounded them felt as if it was pooling in his core, his thrusts devolving into short harsh movements. He panted as the knot at the base of his cock began to swell and with it, the oncoming orgasm.

“Vergil! I-I’m close!” He heard Cassandra pant. He could feel it, it was so close. With a final thrust, he pushed the knot into her and roared, warm seed pouring into her. With him, he heard her cry out and tense up around his knot, body shaking as her orgasm finally hit her. After a few tense moments, he felt her body go lax. He looked down, seeing her breathing heavily underneath him. His gaze moved down her body to her stomach, slightly swollen from the seed that he poured into her. If he was capable of blushing, he would be doing it. He stayed there for what felt like hours, the knot slowly deswelling. He pulled out, letting out a soft groan. Settling himself next to her, the devil disappeared with a flash of blue, revealing an exhausted flushed Vergil. She turned to him, reaching out to pull him into a brief kiss.

“Cassandra…” Vergil murmured. “I apologize-”

“Don’t.” She smiled at him. “That was...phew, that was something.”

“I could have hurt you.”

“Not much more than sore hips and some scratches, which isn’t a bad thing.” Cassandra slowly sat up, letting out a hiss. “Oof...can you go run a bath? I think I’ll be here for a bit…”

“And leave you alone? Never.” He swiftly picked her up, earning a hiss from her.

“Yowch! Jeez, rail my brains out and all that gentleman behavior goes out the window.”

“You were all for it.” He pointed out. She noticed the hint of a playful smile on his lips.

“Yeah yeah…” Cassandra waved her hand as he slipped back into the shop. Stepping into the bathroom, he laid her in the bathtub. He turned on the water, letting cool water pour from the faucet into the tub. “So, uh…” Vergil glanced at her. “Do I still smell of Draco?”

“No, thankfully.” Vergil sighed.

“Good. I’d rather smell of you than of an old bully.” Vergil wondered if she knew the implication of her words. He turned off the faucet. “I’ll be ok here, you should go get everything up on the roof.”

“Are you sure? It would be remiss if I left you her-”

“Vergil. I’ll be fine. I can bathe myself. You should get that basket of snacks and put it next to our bed so we can munch on those before dozing off.” Cassandra told him firmly. Vergil sighed and stood.

“As you wish.” He left the room. Cassandra went to work on bathing herself, humming softly. She swore she heard swift footsteps, perhaps Vergil pulling on some unknown demon ability. Super speed or something, she didn’t worry herself with it. She continued to wash her body.

“It’s done.” Cassandra jumped and looked up, seeing Vergil back by her side in pants. She stared at him, still shocked at his sudden appearance.

“...fucking hell.” She ran her hand through her damp hair. “I love you Vergil but there’s just some things that surprise me about you.” He chuckled at her mild frustration. Cassandra finished bathing and stepped out of the tub, right into a towel Vergil had for her. She leaned into his strong arms as he dried her body, relaxing. When her body was dry, she leaned against the wall as he drained the tub. As the tub drained, he picked her up bridal style and carried her to their bedroom.

“Would you like me to read to you?” He asked, setting her down on their shared bed.

“Of course.” She smiled at him. “But I’d like to hear some of your works.” Vergil blinked at her before nodding, sliding into bed next to her. He pulled out the notebook and allowed her to cuddle up against his side.

“As you wish, my wild rose.”

#devil may cry #devil may cry oc #devil may cry vergil #spicy #lemon

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officialtrashbin · 5 years

Text

Silent Blue

The Black Order Fandom asked for both Corvus/Supergiant and Corvus/Proxima angst, so I put it into the same story. Enjoy!

Rating: T+, implications of sexual situations

***

Corvus didn’t know he was asleep until the sensation of falling jolted him awake. He was seized first by panic and then by the immediate understanding that something wasn’t quite right in the world, and for the first time in years, his heart was pounding with something other than anticipation for battle. Instinctively, he reached over and grasped the sheets to his left, only to find the bed as empty as it had always been. His hands trembled as they bunched up the linens, which felt much too slept in, and much too cold, to have been anything less than occupied by another body in another life.

His mind stumbled, forgetting something that hadn’t quite left him. Whatever it was, he realized it must have made him happy—otherwise sleep wouldn’t hurt him this badly.

***

Dwarf hadn’t stopped looking at him. In fact, Corvus’ little brother had spent all morning nosing about, entertaining small talk and, gods, even made breakfast. Corvus glared suspiciously down at the plate of minced meat broiled in herbs, and asked, “Have you done something that warrants pleasantries to ease my inevitable wrath?”

“No, Brother, of course not.” Dwarf exchanged a glance with Supergiant across the round table, who put her tumbler of tea to her lips as an excuse for an absence of words. “I simply wished to express my gratitude to my favorite broodmate. You’ve been working quite diligently as of late.”

“Dwarf,” Corvus said, “I am your only broodmate.”

“How surprising,” Maw uttered from where he sat at Dwarf’s side, munching modestly on eldroot. “I assumed your species killed the weak ones.”

Corvus ignored him and reluctantly took a seat beside Supergiant. He glimpsed around the table. There was a particularly large gap between himself and Maw, and a red flag went off in the back of his mind.

He said, “We’re missing someone.”

The reaction was immediate. Like being shot or stabbed, not the weapon itself but the impact of it, piercing. Dwarf went ramrod straight. Maw’s unwavering gaze averted to the floor. Supergiant set her hand upon Corvus’ shoulder and quickly told him, “Great Corvus, you worry about nothing. It has always been the Four Dreadlords. What makes you believe otherwise?”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” he replied grimly, rubbing his temple like there was something that didn’t belong in his skull. He wondered if his head always felt this heavy. “I have an unusual feeling in my chest. In my mind. Do you sense it? Something is missing and it troubles me.”

“Stress,” Dwarf interjected.

“Yes,” Supergiant agreed. “That must be it. What shall I do to ease your worries?”

Corvus looked at the bracket of sunlight that spilled through the squared window and fell across the empty spot—the anomaly of existence, he thought: to be around so much so often that even the void of space felt full to bursting, and all nothingness was unwelcome where it had once reigned as everything.

Thunk.

Dwarf’s elbow struck the table. The silence rattled and shook apart, and Corvus was jolted violently from his thoughts. He saw Supergiant was still watching him, anticipating his answer to the question he found himself forgetting. All but his mind seemed resolute.

He speared a cube of meat through with his foreclaw, and ambitiously lifted it to his teeth.

“Nothing,” he lied. “There is nothing you can do for me.”

***

When Corvus became an established hunter, he learned first that the scent of his prey was the same constant as a memory: made distant by time. He could retain his recollection of it just enough to always track the hit. Unfortunately, there was no telling just how long it had been since he last got a whiff of the scent in the room that didn’t belong solely to him. He searched quite valiantly for answers where there was none to be found, taking in the close scents of the pillows and sheets, which smelled like him, but also, something distant. Something forgotten. The foot lockers were full of his clothing, yet ruffled through—items shifted around in a hurry, re-folded just as desperately—but it all looked misplaced, as if there had been a search in haste only to turn up nothing.

He didn’t know what he was hunting for. Frustrated, Corvus gathered his glaive and exited his room.

From the shadows of the corridor, a familiar voice told him, “Searching for what isn’t there is little better than an exercise in madness.”

“Perhaps I’ve lost my mind,” he said. “Tell me, has something beyond my control caused this, or have I truly abandoned my sanity in the pursuit of universal extermination?”

Supergiant shrugged passively. “You received a nasty blow during the Battle of Estobi last week. Your glaive healed your physical wounds, but there is a chance the mental damage was irreversible.”

“Impossible—”

“Is it?” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a weary glance. “Or, maybe you have so many thoughts lately, that they are beginning to blur into one continuous consciousness.”

“Supergiant, drop the façade. I can always tell when there is something wrong, and I want my answers. You may give them to me, or I will have them out.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line. For a while they held each other’s eyes, and finally, the woman exhaled a sigh. “Shall we make a deal?” she asked him, holding out her hand. “I will take you along the path you believe has the answers. When we reach the end of it, if there is something there, I will tell you all you want to hear. But if there is nothing, you promise me, you will drop this obsession over thin air.”

“It is not an obsession,” he deflected.

“Agree to my terms or drop the subject, Corvus Glaive. We have important matters to focus on.”

He diverted his gaze to her hand, then back up to her face, and then down to her gesture again. Slowly, he reached forward, and they sealed the agreement with a firm grasp.

Supergiant went to his side. Something shifted sideways in his chest, that uncomfortable feeling again, falling upwards—someone should have been in her place. “I wish,” he said to her then, “I could understand what it is I am experiencing. Tell me—tell me I haven’t yet lost my mind.”

She put her hand on his shoulder. If it was a gesture meant to be reassuring, it didn’t work.

“Not yet.”

***

Supergiant went with him to the outskirts of their outpost on Titan. Corvus followed the tingling under his skin and the scents of everything around him, through almost all the base and along the perimeter, unyielding, even as the hours passed like long shadows beneath their feet. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t exhausted by his determined push ever forward, but, they had shook on it, so she committed herself to his desperate want for understanding.

They came upon the edge of the plateau, where the ground dipped down into a deep crater, trapping them between a wasteland of stars and the deep earth. Corvus exhaled heavily and perched on the flattened surface of a stone.

“Perhaps,” he said, “I am going about this the wrong way.”

Supergiant crossed her arms again. “I see few options when you yourself do not even know what you are looking for.”

“I—can you truly not feel it? Look into my mind, if you must, I am telling you. It feels as if there is a hole in my chest.”

She lifted her shoulder at him. Her hips skewed right, a stance she only took when her guard was down; something he would know anywhere. The edges of her face were darkened by the shadow within her hood, giving her abyssal eyes the same context as the sky above them, which seemed to yawn open and swallow them whole, its maw spanning the far flanks of the horizon. Corvus was rendered still by how far away everything seemed—even Supergiant, who stood a mere stride out of his reach—and he corkscrewed his eyelids shut and tried to focus on the sensation. He’d been here before.

The nights on Titan were frigid in this hemisphere. Something spoke in the back of his mind of concern for Supergiant and he asked her, “Aren’t you cold?”

“No,” she said plainly. “I am never cold. My suit is thermo-insulated, as it’s supposed to be. Even if I was, what are your intentions to deal with it? Take me in your arms and stifle me with your own torrid heat?”

He furrowed his brow and said, “You sound biting.”

“Irritation is a natural reaction to those who waste my time, Corvus Glaive. If you’re quite finished being convulsed with melancholy, I would appreciate returning to our duties with the Order.”

Corvus rose to his feet and went to her. “This was your idea,” he said thinly. “You refuse to admit to whatever it is you know, and for that, you are wasting your own time.”

“There is nothing to say,” she struck back. After a moment she added, gentler this time, “Corvus, please listen to me. Why do my words fall so helplessly on deaf ears? Have I ever led you astray?”

“You haven’t—”

“Then why are we still out here?”

He reached a clawed hand upwards, sliding delicately under the hem of her hood to cup her cheek. She felt jagged, more than he was anticipating, and much to his surprise she allowed him the unprofessional closing of their distance. Her expression softened.

“You have my apologies,” he said. “You—you are right, Supergiant. I am worried about thin air. We’ve come all the way out here, yet I’ve failed to locate what upsets my spirit. Still, if I might—if I might try something, before we turn back.”

Supergiant glimpsed at his mouth, split half-open to reveal jagged teeth that looked sharp enough to tear flesh, then back up to his deep eyes. “If it will give you rest, do as you wish.”

He leaned in and touched his lips to hers. She went rigid. He was quite warm, quite gentle for the General of the Mad Titan Thanos. His affections were tender when his methods were not. Subconsciously, Supergiant’s hands went to his hips, drawing him closer, relaxing into him as he deepened the kiss. She tilted her chin, he slid his tongue in; teeth, rough against her lower lip, but she couldn’t grasp the dangerous sensation of being this close to them because he quickly broke off, set his shoulders, uneasy, and receded away.

She went pointedly quiet. They had barely kissed for more than a few moments but she was winded, and so was he, panting evenly, trying to control it. He put the meat of his palm to the corner of his mouth and caught the dripple of spit that might not have been only his.

“Corvus,” she said, her voice unreliable, as if he might find something else beneath it, “why did you do that?”

“I wanted to,” he replied. “I awaken from these dreams I cannot remember, dreams of blue and war and death. Will you…help me understand it?”

“You know what you ask of me.”

“Do I? It seems there is a lot I do not know.”

Supergiant looked at him pensively. He wanted to press for answers but didn’t know which way to go to gaze underneath the blanket over her words. She spoke like the depressed key of an old piano. There was something not quite right underneath.

“I have never been with anyone else before.”

“I know. You may reject my offer, if you wish.”

“No, it’s—” She looked like she had more she wanted to say, but instead she told him, “That is fine, Corvus, just not here.”

“Of course,” he said, gazing into the noir mists of her eyes. He thought of unseen places beneath cold, soft earth.

He took her hand in his and led her back the way they had come.

***

They wound up back in his bedchambers, despite her attempt at persuading him to hers, and Corvus felt how rigid she went when she gazed upon the bed. That was an answer to one of his questions: she knew something he didn’t, but she was giving him information out of order, further jumbling his mind as it tried to piece together where, exactly, the lines became cracks. It was a challenge to play mind games with a parasite. She was in his head always, even when she didn’t mean to be. It made him feel inadequate.

He took her cheek in his hand and said, “You may still change your mind. I will never think any differently of you.”

“I will be—fine,” she forced out. “Fine.”

Corvus nodded. Slowly, he kissed her, and it felt like he was awakening again—the jolt, heart slamming against the cage of his chest, hands trembling. He reaffirmed his mouth on hers but it was difficult to focus on the sensation when his chest hurt so terribly. Maybe he was dying. Still, he thought of: his lips on the expanse of blue skin along a soft inner thigh, his hands prying legs open, a delicious wetness on the flat of his tongue.

“Have we done this before?” he asked.

She startled, caught off guard. Corvus knew that meant she had to stop thinking about everything, which the Order couldn’t afford to do, and there was a terrible coldness that lanced through his chest. “No,” she answered quietly, “I told you that I have never been with anyone else before.”

“Then why is this familiar to me?”

“We haven’t—” Something was going awry. The surreal isolation of the dark enveloped her, and she stumbled over her own thoughts. “Are you—Corvus, what did you remember?”

Oh. No, no no no.

She wasn’t supposed to say that.

In a flash, Corvus threw himself away from her, slamming her back-first into the wall, and he was screaming. “What did you do, Supergiant?! What did I—who, did I forget?!”

She steeled herself, eyes blown wide open despite how she pushed back against his unholy strength. “Corvus, unhand me! This isn’t—”

“Answer me!”

“I did what you told me to do!”

“What did you do?!” He fisted her cloak and slammed her back again, his terrible, animalistic nature ripping its way out from under the surface of his skin. She was jolted against the wall, something popped in her chest and she felt an intense warmth spread through her torso, as if someone had cracked an egg and let it ooze inside of her.

“Corvus, listen to me! You do not want this! Let it go.”

“I can’t!” He shrieked, flying into a frenzy. “How dare you! How can you stand there and ridicule me without remorse? You, who tore my mind in two and have the audacity to tell me to let go! Let go of what, Supergiant? Let go of who?!”

Supergiant fisted her hands in the collar of his cloak, but she succeeded only in bringing him closer, his malicious expression close enough that he could snap his jaws and take her throat out.

A single, traitorous tear gathered at the corner of her eye.

She whispered to him, “You do not want this.”

“You have no right to say otherwise! Tell me what you’ve done to me! Tell me who! Tell me why!”

Defeated, she raised her hand to his forehead and gave him what he wanted.

***

The crack of lightning. A wall of blood.

Then, blue.

***

Her name was Proxima Midnight.

She was everything, and then she wasn’t.

***

He opened his eyes, winded and brimming with satisfaction, and then—blue. A fan of azure hair filled his peripheral vision. “Midnight,” he said desperately, “my love,” but the pain of all that existed outside the space between them became a distant ache. Wherever he had been before this was made inconsequential in her presence.

Proxima reached across the thin ravine between their bodies and pulled him into her. That was how this went for someone like him: surrender, embrace, accept. His lips dipped into the divot of her neck, and he took in the scent of their after-sex, bodies slick with sweat, his hand falling complacently on the dip of her stomach. He splayed his fingers across her skin.

“My love,” she uttered, “what crosses your mind?”

“It is in these moments that I wish the nights were longer,” he whispered, his voice reverberating through the deep chasm of the memory. “I can never get enough of you. Is that a strange feeling to have, even though we are together most days?”

She said something to him, but it faded. Distant. Incoherent.

***

When the noises faded back in, he opened his eyes once more. She was looking up at him, beyond him. Over the horizon, he heard the screams of the falling, the Outriders and armies of Thanos bringing slaughter and conquest through the city. Something wet slid dangerously through his fingers.

“My love,” he said, “do not leave me alone. The nights are so, very long without you here.”

She didn’t answer him.

It was difficult to speak, he realized, with only half a body left.

As the fires burned around him, Corvus dipped his head into the crook of her neck and took in her scent. Ash, blood, the electricity of the air. There were no words for it, only that aroma of familiarity.

She smelled like home.

***

“Enough!” He shouted, slamming Supergiant back by her shoulders. She cried out as another stab of acute pain shot through her chest and broke her hold over him fully. “Why did you take her from me?!”

“You asked me to!” Supergiant shot back. “You told me to erase your memories!”

“Why would I do that?”

“You know damn well why, Corvus Glaive!”

They fell into silence, the proverbial tension of ragged breathing and wanting to say more but having said it all already. Gradually, as his memories returned, his resolve crumbled and he moved forward on reflex, taking Supergiant in his arms. He dropped his head into her shoulder. She pressed her hands to his back. For a long while they held each other, unsettled and quiet as the darkness.

“The nights are long,” he muttered. “They are unending.”

“Shall I take it all away?” she asked. She had asked it then, too, after the burial. He recalled that now, like déjà vu, the sensation of living through the present all over again. Back then, he had said yes because it would have made things easier. Now. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

“No. Not…not yet—let me see her, one last time. I have to see her. I have to tell her—”

“Corvus, you mustn’t do this to yourself. Let me take it away…for good this time.”

“Please.”

Supergiant sighed, her breath unnaturally cold, even through the thick material of his cloak. She lifted her hand to the back of his skull and gave him what he wanted.

***

When he went under, coaxed into sleep by her power, she guided his body to the bed and set his head against the pillow. The tear burned a terribly hot path down the furrow of her cheek. She smeared it away with the back of her sleeve and went to the door, where Dwarf and Maw had heard her mental call sent out, and gathered now in the alcove. “He is asleep,” she said to them, casting her hood up. “Not for long…though I may prolong the effects, if you so wish.”

“I knew this would never last,” Maw said.

“We need Corvus at his best,” Dwarf added, “but I do not—I cannot allow you to execute the fallback policy.”

Supergiant scoffed humorlessly. “We are without other choices.”

Maw and Dwarf looked at each other pensively.

“Are you certain this is what you want?” Dwarf asked. His words were like a bruise, swollen and ugly with the truth of what happened here. It hurt to touch. To know what resided beneath.

“No,” Supergiant said, “but it is what I must do.”

Maw exhaled. “This feels quite unnatural.”

“It is what he wanted, when we took our vows. Do you forget?”

Maw was in pain too. They all were. Death was what they had all sought yet Proxima was the adhesive that kept them together, before it, but for what came after—they didn’t yet know. There no one way to explain how hard they had all taken it, how personal this was. Supergiant had once fallen off a cliffside, head-over-heel, down the steep incline and that was what it felt like now, to cope with the agony of losing her: the tilted carousel of motion, the sharp jabs of pain in her back and stomach and shoulders, the incoherent blur of sky and ground that couldn’t be deciphered one from the other.

“In the morning, things will be different,” she said. “Please, leave me to do my work.”

Maw went first. Dwarf didn’t go until Supergiant shut herself back into Corvus’ bedchambers. His opinion, all he wanted to say to her, was pillowed under the surface of his chest. Supergiant told herself it was for the good of Thanos’ dreams. That was what mattered.

She would do all that was necessary to preserve the Order.

***

Corvus didn’t know he was asleep until the sensation of falling jolted him awake. He was seized first by panic and then by the immediate understanding that something wasn’t quite right in the world, and instinctively, he reached over and grasped the sheets to his left. His hand met Proxima’s, and she stirred, startled, as he grabbed hold.

“What is it, my love?” she asked him, rubbing the weariness from her eyes.

He turned his head to face her. “Midnight, my dear Midnight…I had the most terrible dream…”

She put her hand on his cheek. “Ssh, I’m here.”

“But for how long?”

“Always,” she said, stroking the arch of his cheek with her thumb.

Slowly, the stillness of the night settled over him. He pulled her close, burying his face in the crook of her neck and trying to remember her scent. It was all desperation. The love he wanted to give her forever, the love he never wanted to forget—all was rendered silent in his mind, coursing through him as gently as the wind. Here, he felt alive, and safe.

“Always, my love,” she repeated, more firmly. Her hand went to the back of his head to hold him close. “Even worlds apart, we will find each other again.”

Corvus realized he couldn’t open his eyes. Sleep was overtaking him, even as he dug his fingers into her back to anchor himself to her, to this, to right here and right now.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he whispered against her skin. “Please, Midnight—”

Proxima’s voice was cold steel, always the one certainty in his life. Hands against his skin, lips to his forehead. She was everything.

“Sleep well, my love. There is nothing left for you here.”

***

He awoke to an ache in his temples and a deep pang of fear in his chest, but as quickly as the feeling lingered it dissipated, and he knew immediately that he had been dreaming. That was unusual, for someone like him.

Turning over in bed, Corvus was met with the familiar visage of dark eyes and blue skin, and he saw she was already awake.

“Wife?” he said, attempting to brush the bangs from her face, only to find she was without hair. Ah, how silly of him. Instead his fingertips traced the arc of her cheek bone downwards, to the curve of her chin.

“Good morning,” Supergiant said, turning her head to gaze at him. The warmth in her eyes returned. “You look tense. What is it, my love?”

It felt like he was forgetting something.

Corvus furrowed his brow, perplexed, but found that all was right with the moment and smiled, taking her hand in his.

“I just had the most terrible dream…”

#corvus glaive #supergiant #corvus x supergiant #corvus x proxima #proxima midnight #request fill

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culturejunkies · 4 years

Text

The Best Reads of 2019

By Kenshiro

The end of 2019 is here, and I’ve been up to my neck in back issues of comic books. There’s been SO MUCH i have been wanting to read, that it seems almost impossible to keep up with them all. But i’m almost caught up to the weekly releases and maybe next year I’ll finally be ready to keep pace with the rest of you with a regular pull list of items to read and recommend to you.

But lets look back right now on the year that was. It was an especially big year for DC Comics who seemingly dominated this readers mind with the amount of quality stories they’ve been putting out across the line with the excellent Doomsday Clock maxi-series, the Year of The Villain story line coming out of Justice League and of course Tom King’s character-defining Batman run which ended in December. I’d also be doing you a disservice in not mentioning some of their excellent Elseworlds and Black Label books too. Of course 2019 also saw the surprise ending of The Walking Dead comic book, and the end of Jason Aaron’s epic run on Thor for Marvel. But let me go a head and run down what I liked and why this year.

Each book series is rated on a scale of 1 to 5 stars. Average score rating is based on issues individual rating.

The Immortal Hulk

Probably the most unconventionally popular monthly Marvel book currently out right now, The Immortal Hulk has completely rewritten the rules on how we understand The Hulk, Bruce Banner’s multiple personality disorder and how to weave a story based purely on grotesque, ghoulish superpowered horror. The book launched in 2018 returning the Hulk to life after being killed by Hawkeye a few years back, but turns out that Bruce Banner was never really dead and according to the story that head writer Al Ewing has been telling, he CAN’T die. Instead, every day when at dusk, Bruce transforms into a Hulk persona that is as strong as he is ruthless to his enemies, mercilessly dishing out destruction on all those around him who get in his way, or his agenda. Hulk is on the run from adversaries like Alpha Flight and General Fortean, and eventually joined by an African American woman reporter named Jackie McGee. (clearly a reference to the classic 70s Incredible Hulk TV show character Jack McGee) The story is never short on surprises, and eerily captivating art supplied by Joe Bennett. If you aren’t already reading it, you should pick up the first couple of trades ASAP and add it to your pull-list if you’re into gory violence and dark storytelling. Average Rating: 3.5 out of 5

Art like this is a regular occurrence in the pages of The Immortal Hulk

Spider-Man: Life Story

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: Mark Bagley draws Spider-Man. I mean the guy is only the longest tenured artist the Web-slinger has ever had, so the pairing goes over like Peanut Butter & Jelly. However, writer Chip Zdarsky (Sex Criminals) joins him in a tale of Spider-Man done in real-time over the course of 6 decades. Each issue taking place in every decade that Spider-Man has existed starting in the 1960s and ending in the 2010s with Spider-Man as a nearly 80 year old man. We see Peter living his life and decisions and all of the repercussions that come from them without being reset by a retcon. We see him get married, divorced, cloned, become a father, face being an outlaw from governmental law and more. Its one of the better Spider-Man tales in recent years, and worth picking up as a trade. Average Rating: 4.2 out of 5

Harleen

DC’s Black Label is the mature comic line featuring your favorite DC characters, but you can be forgiven if you want to accuse DC of using it as an excuse to publish even more Batman or Batman-related stories given what they’ve got on their slate upcoming. Sure, there’s the occasional story like Superman: Year One, but looking at the upcoming stories, they’re almost all based on the characters from Gotham City. But even if that’s an annoying gripe for me, I must say that one of the more enjoyable reads has been Harleen which was produced by dual-threat artist/writer Stjepan Šejić.

The art is absolutely lovely, but even more gripping is the tale of Harley’s origin done in long-form. Here we see what makes her tick, how she deals with the growing madness around her as well as inside her mind as she falls into the Joker’s thrall. If you’re a fan of Harley Quinn at all, its certainly worth a read, even if you’re familiar with her origin story. Average Rating: 4 out of 5

Prodigy

Mark Millar’s Millarworld is soon going to be churning out live action stuff for its new owner, Netflix. The first comic with actual ties to the live action version is going to be this book, Prodigy. Prodigy is about the most intelligent man on Earth, a man who seemingly can do anything within the realm of human possibility and he just happens to be an African-American. Its not a pandering ploy, since he’s a brand new character, but I can’t tell you how refreshing it was to have someone who looks like me, be the one who has the world at his fingertips, who is idolized and held up as an example of the pinnacle of human achievement. The story itself was somewhat predictable, but the manner in which the character Dr. Edison Crane is written is worth the price of admission if only because he’s something rarely seen in the history of comics: perfection in the form of the black male. Average Rating: 3.6 out of 5

House of X/Powers of X

In a year that saw Marvel finally reacquire the X-Men properties, we got the best year of X-Men related books this year, none better than the franchise altering mini-series by Jonathan Hickman. The revelations set in motion in this series radically alters the playing field for Mutankind in the Marvel Universe, fully emancipating them from a world that has continually kicked them just for simply existing. Hickman’s Avengers run was very fondly remembered by some, but did get a bit heady for some more casual readers. Hickman did an even better job keeping things paced here, even though he went back to the well with some of his favorite plot devices (alternate universes and time jumping). If you’re a fan of X-Men in any capacity, I’d definitely put it in my must-read column. Honestly, the reset of the universe done by sending the young X-Men back in Extermination, almost superceded this one, but the sheer coolness factor of it all had me switch it up. Read em both if you have a chance. Average Rating: Powers of X – 3.6 House of X – 4.5 out of 5

Doomsday Clock

Honestly, this shouldn’t be too surprising. Despite having a hellish release schedule, this story was one of the better ones released by DC this year in a year that also included Tom King’s Batman run, and the Scott Snyder-led Justice League opus Justice League/Doom War. The final 6 issues of Doomsday Clock were supposed to seamlesslytie into a lot of the things that were happening with the aforementioned Doom War, so some of the more….radical elements of what happened lacked bite at the end, but it was a satisfying mixing of Watchmen and the DC Universe proper. There are some instances within where it seems writer Geoff Johns, who is one of my favorite comic writers of the last decade and a half, given his importance within DC Comics itself, is trying to have his cake and eat it too. He has pretty much established every single iteration of the DC Universe, Golden Age, Silver Age, Post-Crisis(Pre-Flashpoint), New 52, Rebirth, ALL EXIST, but the end result, re-positioning Superman as the center of the DC Multiverse, is very welcome for me as a Superman fan. The maxi-series release schedule may have made it a chore to wait for since it came out sometimes 3 months between issues, but as a trade it will make for a thrilling read. Average Rating: 4.1 out of 5

What were your favorite reads from 2019? Share them with me below and lets discuss!

#DC Comics #Marvel Comics #Prodigy #X-Men #Comics

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maple-writes · 5 years

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Novel Prep Tag

Tagged by @oleander-fricke and @corishadowfang Thanks!!! This’ll hopefully be really useful as I’m still trying to figure out a whole new wip here

So bear with me lol.

Rules: Answer the questions and then tag as many writers as there are questions answered (or as many as you can) to spread the positivity! Even if these questions are not explicitly brought up in the novel, they are still good to keep in mind when writing.

FIRST LOOK

1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch)

Richard, Volt and Skyler, the three person crew of courier ship the Lord of Chaos (working name for now lol) all have someone trying to track them down. As easy as it would be to live their new lives, none of them can run forever.

2. How long do you plan for your novel to be? (Is it a novella, single book, book series, etc.)

Just one book. I wish I had the patience for multiple books but… I do not.

3. What is your novel’s aesthetic?

It’s a little rough in this department, but something along the lines of romanticized space travel, far future society spread across multiple planets, daring heros and cunning villians. Tbh think like… Spatoon 2 Octo Expansion... but in Space.

4. What other stories inspire your novel?

I am currently seeking some inspiration right now lol. But so far I don’t think there have been any specific stories that really inspired this one as much as just like… General ideas that come up in a lot of different stories like the vague notions of space stuff, fugitives, over-the-top skills/abilities, … I hope to find some outside inspiration soon though.

5. Share 3+ images that give a feel for your novel

*photo credit bottom: Xavier Portela

MAIN CHARACTER

6. Who is your protagonist?

Technically I have three planned for this one, but I’ll focus on Richard for now.

7. Who is their closest ally?

Hands down, Volt Powell. He trusts her completely .

8. Who is their enemy?

He wouldn’t really call the Organization (name in the making still lol) an enemy, but he wants nothing to do with him and fears being captured and dragged back since he more or less ran away (and is VERY valuable to them both financially and practically).

9. What do they want more than anything?

To exist as freely as other people without having to hide away out of sight. He doesn’t want people to think he’s dangerous and he just kind of wants to live his life.

10. Why can’t they have it?

The organization that made him is trying to track him down, and he can’t usually leave the ship in populated areas without running the risk of someone reporting him (he’s not exactly human-looking as he was more or less created through a combination of genetics and engineering by what can kind of be considered space mafia/illuminati stuff?? More on that eventually when I have it figured out).

11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?

That he’s only valuable/most valued for what he can do, not who he is.

12. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)

He’s fairly tall, with black hair that is so dark it doesn’t reflect any light. One eye is similar to that of a cats, with a yellow-orange iris and slit pupil that can dilate wider for better night vision while the other looks less biological, and was made to see light in the infrared spectrum (though has broken by the time the story takes place). He has sharp teeth, fingertips that can convert to claws, and antenna-like things by his ears that allow him to kind of... tune his hearing or something. His skin is fairly pale, with a kind of cool-toned complexion like he’d been outside in the cold for too long.

PLOT POINTS

13. What is the internal conflict?

Since he’s kind of like a cyborg with biological and non-biological parts making up his body, he needs semi-regular maintenance, but its been years since he’s last been with the organization and the lack of upkeep is starting to show. He doesn’t want to worry Volt, and especially doesn’t want to worry Skyler, so he tries to keep it to himself, but there’s no question that his body is wearing out and will only get worse without treatment only the organization can give. But at the same time, if the organization were to operate on him, he knows they would replace a part that had been accidentally removed years ago which alters neurotransmitter function that made him easier for them to control and blocked most emotions except anger. So he doesn’t want that.

14. What is the external conflict?

That parts a little fuzzy right now, but it will involve the organization gaining on their tail, the tyrannical prime minister’s daughter (skyler’s half sister) and a tangled web ready to unravel.

15. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?

The Organization captures him back and turns him back into a tool for extermination.

16. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?

It’s all up in the air right now, so I’ve got nothing for sure yet. But I’m thinking that there may be one person who ends up being connected to more than meets the eye.

17. Do you know how it ends?

No lol.

BITS AND BOBS

18. What is the theme?

Different kinds of love (ie, family, friends, parental, siblings etc…) and ties between individuals.

19. What is a recurring symbol?

I don’t know if I’ve gotten far enough to have that kind of detail known yet.

20. Where is the story set? (Share a description!)

A solar system… somewhere… maybe our solar system… maybe not? Depends on if I want to make up planets or not.

21. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?

Yeah some of them, though I can’t be sure how many will actually make it into the story when I start writing. None of them are in any way connected to each other either.

22. What excited you about this story?

I’ve wanted to do a sci-fi thing for a while (my last two wips were both fantasy based) so it’ll be fun to explore the genera. This story also uses characters that I made when I was still a kid (like, elementary school and early high school) and I’m excited to see how I write them- Rick, Volt and Skyler- now compared to when I first made them. This also gives me an excuse to write about things like genetics and other science things that I find interesting.

23. Tell us about your usual writing method!

Well, it’s kind of lengthy but it works. First I get the idea, then flesh out the characters and sort of form a vague story around them. Next I make a point form, chapter by chapter outline of what I think I want to happen. Then I pick a nice notebook and handwrite the first draft from the outline. After that, I review what I wrote, make a few notes and rewrite it on the computer. After all that than I revise, and finally, I edit.

Thanks again, and hopefully I’ll know more about this unnamed wip eventually!

tagging: @esoteric-eclectic-eccentric, @iwritetypos, @pens-swords-stuff, @lilmissravingwriter, @writingbusinessizzy, @writerproject, @urbanteeth, @iamidentical and @thelysstener have fun.

#tag game #novel prep #space reboot #idk what else to call it yet #thanks!

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journalxxx · 7 years

Text

An Epilogue of Sorts

Inspired by this idea I had some time ago.

After finishing his shower, Stan went back to the bedroom to find Ford napping on the bottom bunk, hands resting on his stomach and one leg dangling over the side of the bed. He was still wearing the mask, as he had promised he would - with the obnoxious tone and expression of a patient parent indulging a petulant child - after Stan had threatened to spray the whole air tank on his face and flash-freeze his sideburns. Stan walked up to the bed as he finished drying his hair, his vague, remaining worries duly subdued by the sight of a thin veil of condensation rhytmically clouding and vanishing from the inner side of the mouthpiece. Nevertheless, he bent down to squeeze his brother's shoulder. Ford's eyes opened almost immediately.

"...Mh?" "Hey. Bathroom's free. You good?" "...Yes, yes. I was just resting for a moment." He yawned, took off the mouthpiece and reached out to turn off the air nozzle, countering Stan's annoyed glance with a challenging glare of his own. Stan didn't comment on it, gauging that that was as much as he could hope to get away with. "You sure?" "Yes. Just a mild headache. It's to be expected, I'll be as good as new by tomorrow morning." Stan grumbled some semblance of agreement. His spine gave a painful twinge and he straightened himself up, massaging his lower back. There would be hell to pay the following day for all that emergency weight-lifting, he could already tell. He sat down on the bed tiredly, waving away Ford's offer to get up and leave the bed free for its rightful owner. He didn't mind the appropriation at all; in fact, in any other occasion, the sight of his brother casually borrowing his sleeping space would have sparked some very questionable trains of thoughts in his head. That entire day had entailed a level of physical closeness that he would have otherwise found very suggestive, but near-death experiences had their way of stripping all the fun from the little joys life bestowed. Stan kept brushing the towel on his head in silence, the unfortunate accidents of the day playing in the back of his head. Ford appeared to be lost in a similar contemplation as he stared intently at the bunk above. It was him who broke the silence, a few minutes later. "Did you run into any forks while you were carrying me out?" "No, there was only one path to follow. At least there was no risk of getting lost." "No strange holes or secondary routes that you couldn't reach?" "I don't think so." Ford hummed pensively. "Curious. We didn't see any in the first half of the cavern either. Creatures like the one that attacked us usually hunt rather close to their nest, but we didn't run into it while exploring, nor did we notice any alcoves that could lead to a hidden colony in the cave." "And how isn't that very good news?" "There may be one outside. We'll have to scout the outer area surrounding the cave to make sure we eradicate all of them. Or I may be wrong, and there may be no colony at all. I'm not sure, I couldn't get a good look at the creature during all that ruckus." Stan groaned, glaring at Ford in annoyance. "Dammit, we just barely got out of that hellhole, and you're already planning another trip?" "Well, of course. We came here to look for anomalies, and that's exactly what we found. There wouldn't be any point in leaving before getting to the bottom of it." "Well, not dying, for one. That's always a good starting point." Ford rolled his eyes. "Of course, we're not going to rush in there again without due preparation. Judging by the locals' tales, I was expecting some sort of magic curse against curious tomb raiders. The kind of threat we found involves a much more physical brand of aggression. We'll need to reconsider our weaponry and set up the biological scanner-" "Yeah, yeah, but honestly this looks a bit too big for the two of us. If you are right and there is a nest, there might be hundreds of those face-huggers, and I don't feel like playing pest control with a swarm of flesh-eating aliens." "I don't think their number should be too exaggerated. The local fauna seems to be numerous and varied, while a large amount of such vicious predators would have practically exterminated it in a very short time." "...Right." Stan sighed, chiding himself for even trying to oppose his brother with logical reasoning. He never came out on top on that field. "How about we just... go back to the village and report instead? We tell them there's a scary carnivorous monster in the cave and that they should stay very, very far from it, which they already kind of do, and that's it." "That may make them more cautious, but it wouldn't solve the problem. Need I remind you that that thing or its relatives have already claimed victims in the past? And that most of those victims- " Ford's tone raised slightly, cutting off Stan as he opened his mouth to reply, "were curious kids who knew perfectly of the legends and decided to explore it anyway out of sheer curiosity? That sounds familiar to you too, I bet." Stan's mouth snapped closed and he shoot an irritated glance at his brother, who always seemed to know exactly which heartstrings to pull. He shook his head, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Fine! Fine, we're dealing with the man-eating octopus. But we need to set some serious ground rules first." Ford raised an eyebrow, becoming the very embodiment of skeptical surprise. "Ground rules?" "Yeah. First and foremost-" Stan continued testily, pointing a warning finger at his brother, "no more self-sacrificing bullshit talk. For any reason. Seriously Ford, what the hell was that about? Even people in horror movies know that splitting up in dangerous situations is an incredibly stupid idea." Ford frowned and crossed his arms, somehow managing to look down on his brother even while lying on the bed. "That depends entirely on the circumstances. If two people are stuck in a dire situation with no escape route, then yes, teaming up grants the highest chance of survival. But if one of them is somewhat incapacitated, and the other has the chance to reach out for help, then-" "Are you fucking nuts? What did you want me to do, dump your unconscious ass in a corner and stroll out while the octopus was busy munching your face?" "Of course not, you knucklehead!" Ford's tone and expression was getting increasingly aggravated, but Stan couldn't really bring himself to care about that, not with the kind of idiocies his brother was suggesting. "I mean that I should have stopped earlier, when I first suggested it! If you hadn't been so goddamn insistent on dragging me along-" "Oh right, sorry! You had everything under control, didn't you? No matter if you couldn't string two sentences together without gasping for air, totally a minor and insignificant inconvenience that one-" "In fact yes, it was, because I wouldn't have needed to do anything but remaining very still and very quiet, measuring my breaths and blasting whatever tried to approach me - all things that I'm very proficient in, in case you haven't noticed. But no, you just had to waste both our time, air, and energy by forcing me to march onwards! If the tunnel had been longer-" "If the tunnel had been longer- "Stan burst out loudly, positively seething, "I would have run out of air, collapsed and been eaten alongside you by the stupid alien. And you know what? I find that possibility infinitely preferable than making my way out, coming back with your precious help, and finding where I left you only a goddamn pair of glasses, or a bloody piece of cloth, or fucking nothing whatsoever. Because I've already lost track of you twice by mistake, and it took me no less than a goddamn decade to have a single shot at finding you again after each time, and I have the strong suspicion that the next time it happens, it will be the last. So please excuse me if I try to stave off the possibility for as long as I can!" Ford blinked up at him in shock, and it was only after silence fell that Stan realized that his tone had grown way past the conversational level. He huffed in frustration, throwing the towel on his head again, more to block Ford out of his visual field than to do anything else. He felt his brother shift on the bed, moving to sit up beside him on its edge. When Ford spoke again, his tone held none of the anger of their previous argument. "In all honesty, you're the last person who should be telling anyone off about self-sacrifice, don't you think?" It took Stan a frankly embarassing amount of time to catch onto the meaning of his brother's words. He shook his head grimly. "That was different. He would have never kept his word if you had given him what he wanted, and everyone was going on about apocalypses, end of the world, and all that magic balderdash... That was really desperate." "True." Ford's gaze dropped to the floor as he absently rubbed his palm on his knee. "Is that where you draw the line? Is immolation only justified in exchange for the safety of the universe?" Stan snorted, barely managing to avoid bursting out laughing in his brother's face. "I don't give a fuck about the universe, Ford." "...No, I suppose you wouldn't. You did spend thirty years trying to figure out how to tear it apart, and almost succedeed, after all." Stan rolled his eyes. "You just have to keep bringing that up, do you?" Ford chuckled, raising his hand apologetically. "I'm just trying to say that there are some blatant double-standards in your moral code, you'll surely agree." "First off, I'm simply offended by the fact that you think I have one. Second, what's so difficult to understand? I just don't like problems in my family." He shrugged, genuinely amused by Ford's surprised expression. "You fell into a wormhole, so I had to bring you back, the rest of the universe be damned. And the triangle was going to wreck your head, and- and he was after the kids. A right hook to the eye was the least he should have expected." Ford frowned slightly, and he seemed to pick his next words with an uncharacteristic slowness. "I thought I didn't fit in that particular group at that point in time. You said so yourself." "And you believed it?" Stan sighed, looking at Ford in exasperation. "God, now I see how you got in such deep shit with that demon. You shouldn't believe everything sketchy conmen whisper in your ear, you know." "I'm pretty sure you didn't whisper anything. You barked it in my face in the middle of the hallway. Loudly. Jabbing me with your finger." "And here I thought you'd appreciate the figure of speech." The corners of Ford's mouth turned upwards for a brief moment, then they fell back to a somewhat somber expression. He kept staring at the floor, his tone dropping lower still as he spoke again. "...I did mean it though. When I told you to pack your stuff and leave. Not that it didn't start weighing on my mind within the next two days, but... mostly I regretted the tone of our reunion, and my rather aggressive behavior. Not my position, nor the correctness of my judgement." "...Look, if this is some convoluted way to make me bail out on you the next time something tries to eat you, I guess you may be onto something, but-" Ford shook his head and continued, barely acknowledging Stan's interruption. "As to what happened in the Fearamid... It was our only chance to get an advantage on him. The stakes were too high not to give it a shot. It just... made perfect sense to try, so I took your idea in stride as promptly as I would have if my own life had been on the line. I... must say though... that if I had imagined how sour such a victory would have felt, I wouldn't have been so resolute." Stan didn't quite know what to make of that bizarre set of declarations, which seemed to warrant a mixed bag of comforting and punching. He reached some sort of compromise with an awkward pat on his brother's forearm, but that didn't stop that unexpected burst of sincerity. "I thought it was the right move. I still do. The safety of the kids, the destruction of a vicious and powerful entity, the very existence of an entire universe... This is worth more than any single person's life, for sure. Although, as of now, I wouldn't even consider trading yours for anything less. So... I suppose I can see your point in this whole thing." Stan blinked, his confusion turning in mild disbelief. The whole point of that long-winded speech, which included a few heartfelt confessions and a couple of backhanded appreciations, was a simple agreement. Apparently Ford hadn't lost his knack for ill-timed and unfortunate wording. Yet, Ford's words held a kind of honest affection than Stan had only dreamt of hearing for longer than he could remember, and it was more than enough to make him smile in return. "...Good. We have a deal then." "Yes. And it goes both ways, obviously." "I can work with that." They both smiled, and Stan felt the tension of the earlier argument finally vanishing. Only to be replaced by a different kind of tension, one that was both new and familiar. It had been happening for quite some time, without warning, whenever they happened to look at each for few seconds too long, or to stand a bit too close in the cramped spaces of the ship, or for no discernible reason at all. Stan had long since acknowledged the nature of that tension, and whether Ford had recognised it or not, there was doubt on the fact that he was aware of it too, to some degree. "Well, I really need a shower too. Do you mind fixing dinner in the meantime?" Like almost every time, Ford gracefully shattered the atmosphere and stood up almost immediately, clearing his throat and heading to the opposite side of the room to rummage in his drawers. Like almost everytime, Stan didn't have the balls not to roll with it. "Sure. I'll try frying that weird eel the people at the village love so much." "Sounds good." Ford piled a few clean clothes on one arm and strode to the door, but he stopped and hesitated on the threshold. He turned to look at his brother for a moment, his tone suddenly softer and more throughtful. "Thank you." Stan smiled. That, at least, had no awkward nuances or hidden meanings that he couldn't see upfront. "Any time, Sixer."

#stancest

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crazedlunatic · 7 years

Text

Wes Has Feelings

“Truth time.” Blaine barged into Wes’ bedroom late one Friday.

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it. I’ve been very well behaved, Blaine. Your dog is lying.” Wes, who had been staring at a biochem text book, looked up.

“What did you do to my dog?” Blaine questioned, tilting his head. “And why does it smell like… you and AJ!”

“Not like that. Never like that.” Wes scoffed. “She took a nap in here when I was at campus.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Wes began. “There is a chipmunk in her bedroom.”

“Wait, what?” Blaine raised his eyebrow.

“I didn’t believe her either but I saw it. She was tired and I said she could use my bed to nap. The exterminator is coming after 4.”

“You’re going to have it exterminated?” Blaine yelped.

“No, they’re going to catch it humanely. AJ went on for a good five minutes about not killing it.” Wes shrugged. “You and Adrian are so obsessed thinking we’re going to hook up. Trust me, it’s not going to happen.”

“The only girlfriend you ever had that you liked you were the same way with. You got out of your way to do stuff for her, you let her use your computer because it’s faster than her old laptop, you take her car and put gas in it.” Blaine counted on his fingers. “You unstopped her bathtub the other day.”

“Okay I never would have unstopped it if it was the toilet. I do draw a line.” Wes pointedly looked down at his book.

“Also, Adrian’s cop boyfriend saw you guys making out in—.”

“Goddamnit, he said he wouldn’t tell.” Wes growled.

“Oh, you knew he was going to tell Adrian. That prick!”

“No. AJ told him before he could.” Blaine corrected.

“How long have you known?! That was two weeks ago.”

“I’ve known for two weeks.” Blaine admitted. “Truth time.”

“This is not an intervention, Anderson. I swear to God I will not be the victim of one of yours and David’s interven—he’s on his way, isn’t he?”

Blaine grinned.

“You’re getting back at me for intervening during your break up and going to see Kurt, you goddamn asshole!”

“Hello, boys.” David chirped coming into the house. “I see you started without me, Blainers?”

“Well I was going to start off by admitting I had a crush on him when I first met him but I got distracted by the smell of feminine perfume.” Blaine shrugged.

“Wait, I want to talk about that. You what? For how long? It wasn’t when he had the drunk kiss was it?” Wes sputtered.

“You what?” David asked. “Drunk kiss?”

“He was just so nice and understanding and caring.” Blaine shrugged, not even embarrassed.

“I was nice and caring and understanding.” David whined. “And I knew you first.”

“I told you he’d rather date me back at Dalton. I was right.” Wes said. “Also, really?”

“Just until I got to know you. It ended pretty quickly.”

David loudly snorted, covering his grin with his hand.

“Gee thanks, Asshole.” Wes grumbled.

“You’re taking her car and filling up the gas? Letting her use your extremely expensive computer that you wouldn’t even let me touch the mouse on when you first got it?” David asked, changing the subject.

“How about the fact that you have been so involved in Kurt and me since before we were dating but you’ve got someone that you like like and you don’t come to me?”

“Us.” David said. “Come to us. Just because I’m in New York hanging out with Blaine’s boyfriend—“

“We’re calling ourselves partners now. We’re in graduate school, not high school. Partners is long term. Serious.” Blaine blurted. “But continue.”

“Ahem-- Just because I’m in New York hanging out with Blaine’s partner—“

“Thank you.” Blaine chirped as Wes rolled his eyes.

“Does not mean I am any less involved in your personal life—especially if you, the Wes who does not have feelings for girls, has feelings for a real life, breathing girl.” David finished.

“I don’t. You guys are insane.”

“What was that?” David jumped as there was a loud bang.

“Psycho chipmunk. Nothing out of the usual.” Blaine retorted. “But what he said, Wes. C’mon. It’s us.”

“I’d rather talk about this with my baby sister.” Wes groaned. “I don’t have feelings for her.”

“Yeah, I don’t have feelings for Kurt either. I know what you mean.” Blaine maintained a serious facial expression.

“I don’t think I could ever find someone to love like you love Kurt.” Wes sighed. “I don’t even love anyone, okay?”

“No but you like like AJ.” David said. “You’ve not made one joke about just wanting to fool around or get in her pants or anything. We want to talk about it and know where your head is at… and to know what to bring to the wedding.”

Wes pulled his pillow over his face, letting out a loud groan.

“It’s not a bad thing if you like her. It’s about time you found someone to… not just fuck.” David said.

Blaine cringed at that word as Wes removed the pillow from his head.

“I mean you’re going into your second year at Harvard.” David continued. “Most of everyone we went to school with is already married with kids and buying houses.”

“I am going to be sick to my stomach.” Wes pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Let’s not get carried away, here. It’s Wes.” Blaine patted Wes’ head. “Dating doesn’t mean you’ll get married and have kids or anything.”

“It’s not even official.” Wes grumbled.

“I mean when Kurt and I got together… I mean, I loved him and I hoped we’d last forever but there was a while that I thought we might break up when I got to UK or when he graduated McKinley and went off to college.” Blaine admitted. “I’d come to terms with it.”

“What?” David asked.

“Well I mean sometimes it happens… and let’s be serious, our relationship went from five to eleven after the attack. I really cared about him and wanted everything but if we’d broken up… it wasn’t that serious before. I mean, it was but—.”

“But it wasn’t your endgame yet.” David finished.

“Right. And if the attack hadn’t happened, who knows if we’d be back together now? Or if we’d have stayed together at all?”

“You are Kurt are fate.” Wes stated as if there was no other option.

“Well I really loved Mercedes for three years and we broke up, so not every relationship is going to be Kurt and Blaine’s.” David shrugged.

“Oh so you loved her for three years and split it off? That makes me feel loads better.” Wes stood as the doorbell rang. “I’m going to let the exterminator in.”

“You were serious? There’s a chipmunk?” David asked Blaine as Wes walked out.

“In AJ’s room so Wes let her sleep in his room while he was at class.” Blaine grinned.

“I thought I smelled something citrusy.” David looked around. “It smells good.”

“She always smells good.” Blaine nodded as Wes came in.

“Oh God, guys, seriously.” Wes groaned.

“I’m just saying that everyone wants what Kurt and Blaine have,” David resumed when Wes sat on his bedroom floor. “You owe it to yourself to see if you could have that with AJ… or anyone.”

“Same interests, they drive each other crazy but they push each other to do better,” Blaine counted on his fingers. “She shuts him up really quick when he acts like… well, like Wes… He helps here when she doesn’t quite understand stuff in class and at Dalton, he’d probably have let me flunk Chemistry.”

“You help her with homework?” David asked. “Oh man, Wes.”

Wes let out an over-exaggerated sigh. “Alright, fine, I like her. I could like her a lot.”

Blaine launched towards him, hugging him and fake sniffing. “He’s grown up now, David.”

“Hey now, I won’t go as far as saying no homo but you just admitted you use to love me twenty minutes ago and now you’re all touchy feely.” Wes tried to push him off.

Blaine pulled away. “A crush is not love.”

“Whatever. You know you loved me.” Wes winked.

“Okay so what are you going to do about it?” David interrupted their bickering.

“You need to tell her. Just get her sunflowers and say Alicia Jo, I love you.” Blaine grinned.

“Oh my God. I have never been this annoyed with either of you two.” Wes shook his head.

They all three looked up, alarmed, when there were several loud bangs and the sound of breaking glass.

“Should we…?” Blaine asked, glancing into the hallway.

“If you want to get involved with that crazy chipmunk, go right ahead. I saw it earlier and it had murder in its beady little eyes.” Wes shivered. “Ugh, rodents.”

“No way I’m going in there.” David said. “I get to assist in brain surgery tomorrow and nothing is keeping me from it.”

“Yes, I’m sure the chipmunk will pull your hands off.” Blaine nodded seriously. “We must protect them at all costs.”

“Tell her.” David told Wes.

“Tell her what? ‘Hey, I know we make out a lot but I’d like to fuck you with feelings’?” Wes scoffed.

“No. You could say ‘Will you go to dinner with me?’ or ‘Will you be my girlfriend who I kiss exclusively?’” Blaine suggested. “The exclusively part is very important, Wes.”

“You guys act like I’m a whore and sleep with two girls at once all the time or something.” Wes scoffed once again. “I don’t know how to physically walk up to a girl and say ‘Will you be my girlfriend?’”

“The answer is yes.” They heard AJ chirp from the hallway. There were several more bangs and then running. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO KILL IT! DON’T HURT IT! OH MY GOD, WHY IS MY BED SPLIT IN TWO? YOU ARE GETTING A REALLY DISPARAGING REVIEW ON ANGIE’S LIST I HOPE YOU KNOW!”

There were more bangs.

“Oh good, it’s alive… Is that my Chemistry thesis outline?! Get it out get it out get it out!”

“Excuse me.” Wes ran out of the room. There were a few more bangs and then they heard Wes saying, “Take your metal box and get this stupid chipmunk out of here please.”

“Also I would like your bosses number because your clunky shoes broke my bed. Why would you jump on clients’ furniture anyway?” AJ added. “I don’t have anywhere to sleep!”

“You can share Wes’ bed!” Blaine called without even thinking about it. “Oh no, was that too soon?”

“Probably, yeah.” David nodded. “Well done.”

---

Make up drabble for yesterday’s missed one will be up in a few hours!

#wbuct #wbuct drabble #wbuct prompt

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linkspooky · 7 years

Text

Mutsuki, Gratuity, and Violence

Mutsuki’s behavior is shocking to say the least. There’s been a lot of speculation made of exactly why his character made the turn it did from introduction to this point. I’m going to attempt to give my own personal interpretation, on putting together an arc for Mutsuki, and what point Ishida intends thematically by bringing out Mutsuki’s violent side the way he did. Note, this meta is almost entirely about violence, so besides spare mentions of torso the sexual aspect of Mutsuki’s character are not going to be explored. I’ll do that in a later post.

Read more under the cut:

There are several problems with Mutsuki’s portrayal as of now, especially the oversexualization of the only trans character in the cast (In comparison Urie also had a fugue state lashing out of violence this arc but he didn’t like, rip his shirt off or anything), and also what Mutsuki’s thoughts on his gender are being sloppily and confusingly conveyed to the audience. I acknowledge that these problems exist, but this meta is not about that because I want to focus on story and character for now.

In the words of @hysyartmaskstudio Mutsuki’s thread right now is a B-Plot or Sidestory.

And it is ultimately a side story. Side stories ideally are meant to bolster the main narrative, either further reenforcing themes in a way the main narrative could not, or providing backstory to characters necessary to the main narrative in order to make them more effective in that main thread.

A much clearer sidestory example would lie again in Urie. Here in chapter Set P, Urie framing out (The B scenario) shares the same chapter with Amon stepping out from the pod and activating his Kagune (the A scenario because the main character Kaneki is experiencing it). This is because not only are their situations similiar, both are former investigators turned ghoul losing control of their power.

There’s more to it than that though, as the characters are foils things said directly about Urie can be applied also to Amon. It gives us a reason for why Amon despite being conscious enough to remember how he became a ghoul would immediately jump out of the pod and start attacking.

Both of them are lashing out against the environment around them, because of a very basic and deep wound inflicted upon them by their fathers which they cannot possibly cope with on their own. Not only does this writing tidbit inform something not necessarily explained in the text, but it also gives a new perspective on Amon. His long thought selfless and noble quest for justice, can be compared to the selfish glory hogging actions of Urie Kuki much more closely than one would have thought. This hunch about the relationship between their fathers, and also both using their extermination of ghouls as a substitute for their issues is then confirmed a few chapters later by text, more or less.

This is a really clear and efficient use of a sideplot to go back and inform the main plot. However, Mutsuki’s is much more muddled, and a lot of readers unable to understand the point behind showing Mutsuki in this light have dismissed it as cheap gratuity for shock value.

While there’s an element of truth to that interpretation, I would say Tokyo Ghoul is using its genre as a way of expressing an idea. I’ve discussed this before in previous meta, but I consider Tokyo Ghoul to be Pulp, rather than straight horror.

Pulp itself has a long history of representation of otherwise non-mainstream topics of discussion (apparent taboos such as homosexuality and transgender characters), because of their cheap and not as regulated method of publishing. The name pulp coming from the cheaper way of printing the paperback book covers that essentially made them a dime a dozen. However, because they were so cheap these topics were often presented in exploitation fashion in order to draw more readers who would only get one glance at the cover. This is how the genre of ‘Pulp Exploitation’ arose, this is the film genre that Quentin Tarantino pays tribute to (the most obvious example being Pulp Fiction). There also exists exploitation of minority B movies, Black Dynamite is a parody of blaxploitation films.

The point of that brief introduction to pulp being there is a long history of showing representation through exploitation, in the genre of pulp itself. It’s not a good thing of course, but it’s not pointless either it does say something. At the bare minimum besides being an expression of genre, it’s very eye catching. So, starting with a baseline interpretation, Ishida drew Mutsuki like this:

Because he wanted the audience to notice something that they hadn’t before. With the discussion above, about the relation of B to A plots, and also the inclusion of Haise Sasaki within this scene as a direct line back to Kaneki, this scene must be to inform us of something we are missing in the A plot.

So, to continue this analysis let’s talk about the two characters that foil Mutsuki the most right now.

Suzuya Juuzou, or How I learned that becoming a CCG agent does not solve all your problems.

Mutsuki’s reassignment to S3 rather than the main Quinx squad under Urie is purposeful for this arc, as Mutsuki has been serving as a narrative foil for Suzuya for a long time. Suzuya being one of the first characters to mentor Mutsuki and having a profound effect on him, causing his first leap in ability and rank after the auction.

Just as Suzuya, Mutsuki managed to be promoted two ranks at once a feat only ever acquired by Arima before that. The two of them also share similiar backstories of abuse by parental figures. If you want more elaboration I covered the ways in which they are similar and different in this post here (x), for now though I am going to attempt to postulate on what lining their character arcs together means for the story.

To be more precise, I want to talk about why Suzuya’s arc is a progression that is positive character development, while Mutsuki’s is regression, negative character development. Even though the two of them went through the same basic arc (unable to fit in within the ccg -> gained power and confidence from a specific mentor -> found their place within their own squad and became a person willing to protect their friends).

Why did this pathway work perfectly for Suzuya, but fail for Mutsuki?

Let’s start in a very basic difference between their two characters, which is demonstrated to us by a parallel. Back in the academy, both Suzuya and Mutsuki were accused of killing cats, and interacted with Tokage. However, Mutsuki was actually murdering those cats, while Juuzou did not.

Why go so far as to establish this difference, when Mutsuki’s behavior towards his family already showed that he had murderous tendencies? Is it to show that Suzuya is a better person than Mutsuki? Doubtful.

Juuzou did not kill the cats, but also he did not see the problem in them dying. At the time he had no value for life. The only reason he was not killing the cats is because he had no motivation to kill them. While, Mutsuki killed the cats because he found internal motivation to do. It’s a question of motivators, Juuzou’s are all external, while Mutsuki’s are internal. it goes back to their starting incidences of trauma.

Juuzou’s abuse revolved entirely around positive and negative reinforcement. He would fight to earn good boy points, and then have pain inflicted upon him. We also know though his mother intentionally would treat him kindly at times, just so Juuzou would be easier to manipulate and would not turn against her. His sense of self eroded and he lost all meaning to life.

When we see Juuzou recklessly attacking ghoul life later on, it is because of this conditioning inflicted upon him. He has been taught that he has to be violent in order to gain a reward, and after leaving that environment he was put into the CCG where violence against ghouls is rewarded. He specifically cites their roles as ghoul investigator and ghoul as an excuse for his own violence against them. “There shouldn’t be a problem if I were to kill you, right?” (A line later referenced by Centipede Kaneki, if you need a reference as for how unstable Juuzou is being here).

As a side note though before I finish ths point, Juuzou is engaging in hyper violence in this scene. The same kind of hyper violence (mixed in with hypersexuality in Mutsuki’s case) that Mutsuki engages in, in these last few chapters. What does it show here though. In this case, is Juuzou not performing the exact same task he did s a scrapper, but only with a different master. Using hyper violence draws attention to just how cruel Juuzou is being here, is it really okay for him to act this excessively just because Kurona and Nashiro are ghouls? Is that violence somehow only bad when it’s conducted against humans?

If Juuzou is just being violent again in the hopes of achieving external reward though, the CCG has done little to nothing in terms of breaking him from his bad coping mechanism. (This is what we are discussing here, both Mutsuki and Juuzou suffer from terribly violent coping mechanisms in dealing with their trauma, I can argue the narrative has gone through great lengths to show that rather than just dismissing them as bad violent people). Then, what is it that helped Juuzou break free from this chain and allowed him to grow.

It’s easy to give a shallow reading of events and say it was because the CCG rescued him that Juuzou eventually found stability. However, as I’ve hopefully proven above the CCG did little to help him, and were more than likely taking advantage of his violent tendencies as long as they were pointed at ghouls. It was rather the efforts of an individual who reached out past the system in order to help Juuzou, and try to give him positive reinforcement simply for existing and being a person, rather than having to kill to earn it first.

Juuzou’s arc is therefore misleading. He is integrated into the system of the CCG and improves, but it is not the system itself which leads to him improving, but rather the actions of individuals outside of the system.

At this point, Juuzou’s need for positive reinfrocement is basically resolved. While he is still stigmatized by a portion of the CCG, he is surrounded by his own squad who look up to him, praise him, and try to take care of his individual needs. Juuzou in return genuinely values their lives and wants to protect them. He’s crossed the barrier of learning to understand human relationships and have functioning relationships with others, and considering the massive amount of time the Suzuya Squad hang out, their relationship even bypasses the problem of the CCG hierarchy of not allowing themselves to have anything more intimate than work based relationships.

Suzuya has found what he was looking for in trying to placate Big Mama, a genuine family.

However, it would be a mistake to assume Juuzou’s development stops entirely here. Even after being given a supportive surrogate family, and a secure place within the CCG Juuzou’s empathy problems still exist arguably. One, because if Juuzou did not grow anymore as a character in RE: he would not be featured so heavily in the narrative, and two becase there are plenty of hints of it still in the narrative.

Juuzou’s current choice to move from enjoying the killing of ghouls, to regard it as just a job is still a wrong one. Especially if the manga is making the argument that ghoul life is just as worthwhile as human life, a point coming to a head in this arc. While Juuzou is much less sadistic an individual, he’s still doing things like this to Kurona, showing her no sympathy to the point of his entire squad laughing cruelly at her.

And then walking around wearing everybody’s favorite peace loving dad for armor.

Why should Juuzou even be asked to show sympathy for Kurona? Look at the chapter both of these screencaps are taken from Ch: 87, A Hated Child. That was what Juuzou was in the past, and Kurona is now. The reason Juuzou should be asked to have sympathy is because the reason Juuzou is standing where he is has nothing to do with his personal strength, but because somebody else took sympathy on him.

This scene parallels Juuzou’s fight with Kurona and Nashiro pretty much exactly from the original manga, including Juuzou looking to have taken a hit only to effortlessly dispatch Kurona and then let her go. The reason I can think of showing the same scene twice is exactly that, to show how little has changed between then and now. Juuzou has grown a lot, but not necessarily in the right ways. I would say part of the reason for this is because Shinohara, who was once so influential is Juuzou’s growth, is now acting as a stop gap on his character.

Juuzou right now is not acting entirely on his own will, but rather how he thought Shinohara would. If anything, Uta’s use of Shinohara’s face to instantly distract Suzuya (this same trick did not work on Take at all) just shows how unresolved these issues in Juuzou are. Which makes sense as Shinohara was suddenly taken from Juuzou traumatically, and he was given no chance for closure.

(Note also, returning to my argument of parallel running plots informing each other. Donato says in this same chapter “You choose to do these things? You wanted to acknowledge him didn’t you? Wanted him to pat your head in approval.” Which suggests that Suzuya’s motivations may not be as nobly for the sake of the whole CCG as he might suggest).

Shinohara was a good person who reached out to Juuzou, but he was also one of the CCG veterans. Him, Kuroiwa and Aura basically exist in a bubble where they are so secure in their status they do not even question the killing of ghouls. Aura refers to them as rats, for example. Shinohara quite famously called Kaneki “The Craziest Ghoul he’s Ever Met” even though the audience knows that Kaneki is a very gentle person who wants to be gentle but is the product of a violent system. While to the CCG career investigators, it might just be a job for them and they are not even unnecessarily violent like Mado was, their job however is still to take away life. This isn’t even a point on my part, but rather something stated directly by the manga.

Therefore at this point in his arc Suzuya has reached a point where he is in a similiar position as Shinohara. He has developed enough that he no longer acts unnecessarily cruelly towards ghouls, and even cares about those around him and goes out of his way to watch over them, but he has no developed all the way.

In that case, Juuzou’s relationship to Mutsuki is also incomplete. While Juuzou has taught Mutsuki not to be fearful of his strength, he’s not nearly reached out enough as Shinohara did to him. The reason we can tell is because the moment Mutsuki left Juuzou’s supervision, he began to violently dissociate again. He doesn’t perfectly understand yet how to stand in Shinohara’s shoes, because he can’t see how the system is failing both him and Mutsuki.

That’s why this moment, which should be the climax of Suzuya’s arc if he really were only just about climbing the ranks of the CCG and becoming a better investigator, falls so flat. While being considered talented enough to replace Arima is at least a good thing from a positive reinforcement perspective as in the past Suzuya has been maligned from all around him, you have to consider what we now know about Arima.

That Arima hated his position, prestige, and wished for nothing but death despite being the strongest. He was a person who had enough empathy for ghouls that killing them made him hate himself. The person now stepping into the role of Arima Kishou’s shoes, has basically no empathy for ghouls, and thinks very little about whether or not a ghoul life should be considered as an equivalent. If Juuzou really follows the path of Arima, he’ll either be corrupted by his attitude of just following orders, or come to hate himself.

The bottom line of Juuzou’s arc right now, is that gaining strength and recognition in the CCG did not lead him to happiness. That is also the point of Urie’s arc-

The point of Ui’s arc-

And also, it is what Mutsuki’s current breakdown led to Mutsuki’s current breakdown. All three of these characters are entirely reliant upon the system to give them security, and these same characters are failed by that system.

This is where we return finally in the comparison between Suzuya and Mutsuki to talking about Mutsuki.

Let’s begin with the question posed at the start of the Suzuya and Mutsuki comparison. Why does Suzuya flourish in the CCG, while Mutsuki is currently spiraling.

While that could be answered with perhaps a different chain of events, Mutsuki would not be in the current state he is right now without Torso’s interference, and therefore Mutsuki right now is not a 1:1 comparison to Suzuya because he’s fresh from being captured and tortured, I would say that’s not the case.

We’re going to talk about Torso in the Kaneki section of this meta, but mainly to dismiss that argument now, the manga makes it pretty clear that Mutsuki’s current existing problems existed with him from the start even before Torso, and even during the earlier arcs such as the auction arc, stretching far back to his academy days.

Then the true difference between the two of them lies where their failed coping device lies. Both of them are dealing with trauma using violence, but remember Mutsuki killed the cats, and Suzuya did not.

This is because Mutsuki’s way of coping is internal, while Suzuya’s is external. We see this also, right at the establishment of Mutsuki’s trauma. Mutsuki’s way of dealing with the violence inflicted upon him was to placate his tormentor, and escape deep into himself.

His way of coping has always been internal. He tries to retreat within himself, and find security there. Which is what eventualy led to his violent lashing out on everything around him, without even being conscious of it.

Which is why Mutsuki watches his own body move to violently kill his parents, while he himself is not aware of it. His way of coping was to escape from the current reality by retreating into himself, and then withstanding as much violence as he could until he violently lashed out. Mutsuki also has a pattern, almost exclusively to male figures in his life of enduring their abuse, and giving them affection regardless. His main method of dealing with them has always been to play passive. This scene right here, is it Mutsuki being exceptionally kind of accept Urie even after this, or is it Mutsuki just repeating a pattern he’s played towards men all of his life.

He shows the same behavior towards Torso, and Haise as well. This establishes Mutsuki is caught in a pattern of behavior, but if that is so why did the pattern of violence repeat even after Mutsuki had been removed of his abusers and placed into at least somewhat safer housing?

The answer lies in that same internal motivators. Mutsuki found what he wanted (internal security) in violence (killing his family). Therefore, he will continue to seek that internal security by becoming more violent. His character arc too, also follows this path. While people praise whatever good character arc Mutsuki had before the point of Torso interfering in it, I’ve always seen that as a misreading. Mutsuki’s character arc has always been about getting stronger as a ghoul investigator first and foremost.

Juuzou’s advice to Mustuki even revolves around this strength based personal growth route, as he tells Mutsuki that getting rid of his fear will amount to taming his weakness.

Nice words indeed, but that same line of thinking leads to mindsets like this.

I’m not here to argue that Mutsuki is a bad person, or that he’s never grown as a person, but rather that he’s been attempting to grow the wrong way since the very beginning. Therefore the notion that Mutsuki had an excellent character arc, then Ishida decided to veer off with Torso and go in an entirely different direction is a misnomer. Mutsuki has been heading this direction all along, and will continue to head this direction. Not because he’s a bad person, but because his coping mechanism is wrong, he’s using violence against ghouls an entire race of sentient thinking and feeling beings, as a method of securing his own internal security.

He views ghouls as violent. Therefore he can conveniently blame his own internal violence on them, while also being able to enact violence against them in order to feel more secure. Not once in the entire narrative has Mutsuki ever questioned whether it was okay or not to kill ghouls, he was only reluctant because he was afraid of he, himself, becoming violent and uncontrollable like he thought they were.

This of course, isn’t Mutsuki being a bad person either, but rather a bad coping mechanism that has been encouraged by the CCG. There’s no way the CCG actually believed the lie that Mutsuki’s parents were killed by ghouls, as he was holding the blood stained axe while he said it. However, they chose to play along with and encourage this delusion of his in order to turn him into an investigator. Then they slapped a dangerous weapon inside of his body and left him alone without much guidance.

Therefore Mutsuki has moved to the point where he now is taking advantage of the CCG’s reckless handling of them as an excuse for his own violence.

There are others who have interpreted this as Mutsuki specifically lashing out against Akira because she is a mother figure in an Oedipus/Electra tragedy, but I would say Mutsuki is just completely disregarding Akira as a person here. The CCG has sanctioned him to be violent against his ghoul, and Akira is standing in the way of that. Therefore, according to the CCG he also has a right to be violent against her as well.

As foreshadowed here by Mutsuki cutting Akira on accident. It’s not that he has any malice towards her, she was simply stading in the wrong place. Who he can and cannot kill seems arbitrary by this point, but wasn’t it like that to begin with? Mutsuki is simply following the CCG’s dictation, that it’s okay to kill ghouls, but not to kill human.

So this behavior, of Mutsuki mercilessly taking out low rank aogiri ghouls while his arc was ‘on track’ is totally okay.

However, Mutsuki suddenly turning against Akira and stabbing her is “not okay” and Mutsuki “going off track in his arc.” Not to mention the various implications he has been killing humans.

Even if Mutsuki’s arc were different, and he did not start to pick up the behavior of killing humans. If he had never killed his parents, and his tendency towards violent fugue states was removed from him, he would still be just as morally dubious. He would still be a murderer, because the base of his self confidence, is and has always been getting better at killing ghouls. That is the central problem of his character.

Mutsuki even acknowledges there’s no difference. Murder is murder.

Therefore, the CCG growth path which worked for Suzuya at least part way is not working for Mutsuki. This is because his problems cannot be solved with external validation like Suzuya’s could, what he needs is internal. From a character development standpoint I would say hat he needs is better self reflection, but from a point of in story goals to work towards, this is what Mutsuki wants:

Basically the same thing Urie wants, to have the internal security of having a family and feel that human connection. However, Mutsuki makes the mistake of trying to find this security through violence rather than reaching out to others. Therefore most of his instability comes from an inability to fail to realize and act on that basic need.

I am horrible because I do not realize a thing. I am repulsive because I cannot realize a thing .

Therefore unlike Suzuya, the central problem of Mutsuki is not his violence but rather the way he thinks of that violence and the way he relates it to himself. Which will require a different character of comparison to finish up this argument.

Kaneki Ken, or How I Learned That Being a Ghoul Does not Automatically Make One Violent

Kaneki’s arc with Yamori is one of the most famous in the manga, and is paralleled pretty effectively with Mutsuki. I am not going to recap that, because both are pretty obvious and this is more attempting to look at how the plot lines tie together. Basically though, Kaneki starts to amke an unconscious association of his ghoul side with violence and his human side with his ability to show kindness.

That’s why his tender side has always been represented as black, and his violent side as white. Not only has he always oversimplified his own narrative and seen his lost innocent self as his Black Haired self who tried to continue to pretend to be human, and his White Haired self as his corrupted self who lived as a ghoul, but also that Kaneki’s view on these things has always tended to be black and white.

This is the trait which Mutsuki parallels the strongest, their inborne hypocrisy and internal notions where they automatically associate ghouls with their violent and fearful side, and humans with their more peaceful side. Especially when on a basic level their violent tendencies did not arise from the abuse inflicted onto them by ghouls, but rather by humans.

Kaneki says “I am a ghoul.”

Mutsuki says “I am grotesque.”

In other words, ghouls are grotesque. That’s obviously not the case though, as the entire manga has been trying to make the argument that ghouls are the way they are because of circumstance, rather than natural tendencies towards violence.

However, despite being directly told that lesson we see Kaneki show a clear bias towards the way he fights against humans.

And the way he fights against ghouls.

There is no strategic reason for simply cutting the tendons of the V members, or even risking trying to perform such a precise maneuver when he can cut their heads off. Now, it’s not right to kill humans, but there’s at least strategic reason for it when you are fighting a war. The V members which Kaneki assumes are human are all part of a ruthless regime which Kaneki is now currently fighting against, and have been responsible for the deaths of innocent ghouls for generations, he has no real reason to show mercy on them because they are not going to change their ways, and their living probably means more dead ghouls in the future. The people who Kaneki is supposed to be fighting for as a whole. However, Kaneki is not acting on logic here but rather his own internal sensibilities. Basically his own emotions are dictating his actions.Subtext, which was brought as text when Ayato specifically called him on that.

This extends to Kaneki’s strategy as a whole. That because the CCG is made up of a few people who are decent, or even because it is run by human beings, he does not act to destroy it no matter how many horrible things he witness it doing, but rather wants to reason with it.

This bias can be seen in how his strategy plays out, how he is risking a few of the strongest members of his force, as well as abandoning his main fighting force when he is supposed to be the strongest one leading them in order to save one human being who is a former ghoul investigator at that. Or how his strategy revolves around so far fighting other ghouls to protect ghoul investigators. Instead of doing the obvious thing, and fighting ghoul investigators to protect ghouls.

I don’t think Furuta’s being overconfident in his analysis, just accurate. If Kaneki is going to protect the CCG by fighting the clowns, but then fight V at the same time he won’t be seen as a separate force, he’s just making meaningless distinctions based on his own personal feelings. His strategy is failing. That is why the entire point of this arc is how meaningless the distiction between human and ghoul is, when it comes to the value of their lives are. As highlighted by this specific action on Furuta’s part.

He’s making the point and making it hard, what led to the reckless loss of human life in this situation is because the CCG all along has been treating ghouls like enemies to be exterminated and slaughtered without discretion. Except there’s no real difference between the value of a human life and a ghoul life. Suddenly feeling guilty now that they’ve been accidentally killing humans while attacking ghouls, is merely a hypocrisy on their part.

Kaneki and Mutsuki’s strongest shared element is their internal hypocrisy on this subject manner. Mutsuki just makes it obvious though, by not distinguishing at all anymore between human and ghoul.

To reinforce this argument though, let’s return to the way that Mutsuki and Kaneki imitate their abusers. For Kaneki it was the picking up of torture, as well as the knuckle cracking. Mutsuki has started to tap his fingers as Torso did.

He even removes his shirt as Torso had.

And Also Mutilates corpses as Torso did, to pretend they are a proxy for who he really loves and prevent them from ever escaping.

Showing that Mutsuki has picked up some of Torso’s habits though, is not to say that Mutsuki is just as bad of a person as Torso though. It’s because Mutsuki assumed that Torso was a terrifying person, and a monster because he was born a ghoul, because he had to eat flesh in order to survive. Rather, that it was circumstances that changed them.

Kaneki and Mutsuki both come close to sympathizing with the backstories of their captors, however they both assume their different in some way. That they will overcome the cycle of violence. While they do have that capability and they are strong people, I would argue this belief comes from the fact that both Kaneki and Mutsuki were born humans. No matter how ghoul like they become, they will see themselves and their inherent worth as different from Yamori and Torso.

So what happens then when two people who were born human, end up picking the same habits of the monstrous ghouls who abuse them? It’s pretty good evidence that ghouls themselves are not inherently violent or even predisposed towards violence, but even humans put in those same circumstances will pick up similar violent tendencies.

Therefore, in total this is the reason why Mutsuki’s arc has become so violent, and also why Mutsuki needs to be the focus of this violence. Because Mutsuki is a representative of the entire CCG’s attitude towards ghouls, by being a product of its very dangerous system of taking children who were injured by ghoul attacks and instead of giving them proper closure and homes, raising them to hate and kill ghouls.

Mutsuki would need to be so obviously violent because otherwise the point would not be so obvious to the audience. This is how Mutsuki’s seemingly tangent character arc ties back to the main plot, and why it seems so visceral. It’s showing us the violence inflicted against ghouls we’ve seen through the manga all along, but gotten used to, but making it obvious once again just how horrifying that violence is.

Therefore I would say from this point forward Mutsuki’s arc is actually pretty clear. Once he stops seeing things as black and white within his own mind (ghouls= bad, grotesque, humans= good, kind) then he will be able to take his actions at face value. What prevents Mutsuki from growing and causes him to spiral is his inhability to do so, his constant lying. That’s why I think at some point Mutsuki is going to be removed from the framing of the CCG which is influencing and exploiting his thoughts to turn him more violent, and be able to reach a point of self realization as Kaneki did, where he was able to truly look at himself.

In other words, hopefully Mutsuki soon too will be able to break his own egg.

#meta #tg meta #mutsuki tooru #suzuya juuzou #kaneki ken #torso warning #mak don't look

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s-w-s-h · 7 years

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Blood Will Out

The blood drained from Jacob’s face. Was she - she couldn’t -

… Could she?

As he listened to Mary talk, about the British Men of Letters and the vampires, he realised - she could. Mary Winchester could stand there and brag about genocide as if it was nothing. As if he and his kind were nothing.

Monsters didn’t deserve to live.

“… You’re talking about genocide.”

The words came from Claire, not Jacob, and he turned to see her just as white-faced as he probably was.

“They’re monsters, Claire,” Mary dismissed, “We’re talking about the end of hunting here.”

“No, actually, we’re talking about genocide!” Claire gestured fruitlessly, trying to convey the depth of her horror. “They’re sentient beings!”

“They’re not human!”

“Sentient! Beings! We’re not - African warlords or something who go around slaughtering people who don’t look or act like us!”

Mary scoffed. “What kind of comparison is that? They’re the ones slaughtering innocent people - are you gonna tell me scum like that doesn’t deserve death?”

“That’s not the point!” Claire cried, “This isn’t justice!”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure the innocent women and children in Africa feel justice -“

“We have the fucking Hague!” Claire spat, “We have the International Criminal Court, we have the fucking Geneva Conventions, the UN, because we’re not monsters and we won’t stoop to their level.” Her eyes blazed like miniature stars. “We give people a fair trial. We hold them accountable. We do not senselessly murder them on the basis of what they might be, and not what they’ve done!”

It’s not what you are, but what you do that matters.

Claire’s voice was shrill and piercing by the end of it, but all Jacob could think of was a teenage vampire he’d met in Chicago, Nithin. Dark-skinned, gangly Nithin, who sent him shitty Bollywood videos at 2 AM and even shittier memes at 4, whose sharp fangs had never once pierced human flesh, who watched trashy vampire movies like Twilight just to complain about what they got wrong.

It’s not what you are, but what you do that matters.

Nithin was going to be his roommate at Northwestern. They’d filled out the paperwork and everything.

Except, now he wouldn’t, because in this reality, Nithin was dead.

Murdered.

For what he was, not anything that he’d done.

Sam was wrong.

“… I don’t understand,” Jacob said, voice so small in his own ears that he wondered if anyone would hear him, “We’re - we’re family, aren’t we?”

“Wait,” he blurted out, “Does this mean I can call you ‘grandma?’”

Mary’s eyes were flinty, and Claire was shaking with fury. Jacob was selfishly, selfishly glad that Jesse wasn’t around, because God, Jesse was just a kid, and his heart was softer than all of theirs, and if this hurt Jacob so much he couldn’t breathe, then how much more would it hurt Jesse?

“I don’t understand,” Jacob repeated, feeling lost and hurt and confused, “‘Cause I’m a ‘monster,’ too.”

Mary looked conflicted for a moment. “Look, kid… I get it, you haven’t hurt anyone. And that’s great. But can you speak for every other monster out there?”

“I can speak for those of us who try!” Jacob said hotly, “Some of us have never hurt another person and just want to be left alone!”

“That’s all well and good,” Mary said, lips pressing in a thin line for a moment, “But can you say for sure that you never will?”

Jacob’s jaw dropped in horror.

“Look…” Mary sighed briefly, a worn expression flickering across her face. “I’m sorry to be so blunt, but even you’re thinking it - blood will out.”

Claire and Jacob found themselves speechless.

“Blood will out?” A soft voice repeated.

Claire and Jacob swore in unison, and all three of them turned to see Ben and Jesse standing in the doorway, faces grim.

“Jesse, honey -“

“Ben, get him out of here -“

“No.” Jesse cut Claire and Jacob off, moving into the room. “I want to hear this. Blood will out - do you really believe that, Mrs. Winchester?”

The formal reference struck Mary as wrong, but nodded curtly and crossed her arms. “History has proven it time and time again.”

Jesse nodded, almost thoughtful. “I see.” His gaze turned sharp and incisive. “What about Sam’s blood?”

Mary’s brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Sam’s blood,” Jesse repeated evenly, “Or rather, the blood in Sam.” Jesse’s expression turned vicious. “Azazel’s blood.”

Mary rocked back on her heels, the memory of her last night on Earth - or what was supposed to be her last night, anyway - flashing through her mind. Azazel making a fist over Sam’s mouth, dripping down dark red blood -

Sweeter than mother’s milk

- before she was slammed against the wall, sliding up and -

“What does that have to do with anything?” she snapped harshly, forcing the memory away.

“Do you know what the blood did to him?” Jesse asked curiously, “It’s an open secret amongst hunters by this point, I think. The demon blood changed him, gave him powers. It made him into Lucifer’s perfect vessel.”

Mary paled.

“They called him a monster, too,” Jesse continued ruthlessly, and Mary could swear that the shadows in the corners of the room flickered. “Your fellow hunters hunted him - would you have joined them?”

“Wha - of course not!” Mary replied, aghast.

“Really? But he was different.” Cruelty looked wrong on such a young face. “Unnatural. Everything the people you’re in bed with want to exterminate.”

“That’s enough!” Mary shook her head, hands clenched into fists to keep them from trembling. “Sam isn’t a monster!”

“At least we can agree on that,” Ben sneered under his breath.

“He is to them!” Jesse retorted fiercely, “I don’t care what you think about us, but Sam - Sam is who you’re trying to kill!”

Mary’s eyes flashed, but before she could respond, Ben commented, “You know, maybe Dean would be a better example.”

Mary narrowed her eyes.

Ben shot her a nasty smile, voice dripping with venom. “Oh yeah. Sam may be psychic, but Dean? Oh, your little boy’s been around the block - vampire, demon - you gonna exterminate him, too?”

“What are you talking about?!”

“He got himself turned into a vampire a couple years ago,” Ben answered, eyes glittering with malice. “Stood outside my bedroom until Mom finally kicked him to the curb. And then - and you’re going to love this - he got himself a Murder Stamp from Cain himself and turned into a demon, black eyes and all. Knight of Hell, actually, which should tell you exactly what he was.”

“Sam cured him,” Claire picked up, shooting Ben a warning glance. “In fact, the vampire cure came from your family.”

Mary’s mouth pressed in a thin line and they could practically hear her teeth grinding against each other. “Is that your plan? Go around the country curing monsters?”

“If that’s what it takes! We have the knowledge, we have the resources!” Claire gestured to them all, “We save people, not slaughter them! We find a better way, and this black-and-white racist bullshit isn’t it!”

“So, what?” Mary snapped, “You want to let monsters roam free on the chance that some of them might play nice?”

“They will,” Jacob protested immediately, “I know plenty of them!”

“Don’t be so naive, sometimes you have to put the needs of the many -“

“My family is not collateral damage!”

There was a ringing silence following Claire’s pained cry, and the teen swore softly, raising a trembling hand to rub at her wet eyes.

Mary’s expression creased in regret, and she reached out hesitantly. “… Claire…”

“Don’t,” Jacob growled lowly. He rubbed a hand down Claire’s back soothingly, his sharp glare warding Mary off.

Claire choked back her tears, wiping her eyes dry. “My family isn’t collateral damage,” she repeated, softer, but no less fervent. “And neither should be yours. Not Jake, not Jesse, not Sam.”

“Can you really look him in the face and do this?” Jesse pressed quietly, “They will hunt him. They’ve already tortured him. They will hunt people like him, people just as kind and good, who are trying to make the world a better place, no matter the cards life deals them. People with families who love them and depend on them - just as much as Sam loves you.”

“Are you going to sacrifice them, too?” Ben asked, standing behind Jesse like a guardian. “Where are you going to draw the line? White witches? Wiccans? What gives you the right who in the supernatural world gets to live and who dies?”

Faced with four teenagers, fierce and hurt and angry, with traces of Sam shining out of their eyes, Mary had no answer.

#Claire Novak #Ben Braeden #Jacob Pond #Mary Winchester #Jesse Turner

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sweetcollectionladyuniverse · 5 years

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Find a vampire .. (2) blood as food https://ift.tt/2QLe7LS حكايات زمان

Find a vampire .. (2) blood as food

Find a vampire .. (2) blood as food I do not think a creature gained fame and popularity, such as those obtained by the Vampire (Vampire), especially in the present era where carry literature and art to the far corners of the Earth became his presence necessary essential to the culture of contemporary horror, and his name became a matter of debate does not end on the fact that his presence and his being. Our pages - has won a nightmare - their share of this Byzantine sterile debate, which is not without interest, because it increased the enthusiasm to move in a long research trip in which we search tombstones eroded in the old cemeteries forgotten, and shave the wings imagination over the Balkans towering peaks where Ncit The legend grew up, and turn the records of some of the strangest passion blood crimes and horrific papers ... all this in order to provide an interesting article contains useful information and a unique tale of endurance with dear reader to another world where blood is the ruling and dominant. Some find in the blood Gmaoua savory (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); Vampires atheist and the twentieth century One might wonder about the reason for excellence vampire .. What makes it endearing to the hearts of this image despite Dmoath?. The answer to this question lies partly in the unique image that shape and painted brilliantly employers of world cinema for personal Vampire industry, as it turned gradually from a monster scary scary to an icon of Osama and the beauty and eroticism !, The ambiguity and uncertainty surrounding his life, has always been a motivation for people looked to him more curiosity and interest, is the monster really weird, spends his day locked in cemeteries, and recoils at night from his coffin offside under darkness searching for a human game, provide him with this red nectar which sends the body of the new flame of life and Nchotha, There is no doubt that this unique life style Nutrition has raised many questions about the blood and the fact that its properties, you can really live human lives and to take it alone? What is the taste, and I wonder how it tastes?. Maasai blood love cows! Confused questions remain unanswered, especially here in the east, where the long-prohibition drink blood centuries ago. As in other parts of the world may not be human only question only, but may be able to experience and taste too! It has in this regard several options, for example, can be sipped blood soup or to eat sausage and dessert made of it! The perfumed himself to a cup of blood cattle mixed with milk with Maasai African, then the tribes that seized control of vast tracts of grazing Kenya green not only in Aleppo cows, but the men from time to time and one stabbing of cows in the vein by shares or long shaft to flow blood profusely to wooden vessels that soon it Chrib mouths eager for a taste of fresh blood, drink sometimes alone, and sometimes Amzjohnh milk. And men prefer Ahtadsh in the morning to enjoy the faculties throughout their day, and perhaps Sagoh for patients and pregnant women as well as children, as the Maasai strongly believes in the supernatural blood properties, claiming that he gives them immunity against diseases and prolong the ages, but unfortunately the allegations lacked scientific evidence supported, the average age of the man Maasai not to exceed 45 years only. But drinking blood or cooking is not confined to Africa, but extends to a wide parts of the globe, there are dishes and foods variety made from blood or enter into composition, probably the best known is the blood soup (blood soup), which are configured in multiple ways vary depending on the blood used in the recipe , some preferences made from pig's blood, while others blood of the Lamb and goat Isttam, and she likes to use the blood of geese Swedes, Poles Faihbdhun duck blood. In the Philippines, using the blood to cook scrumptious kind of gravy named (Dinuguan), one of the delicious meals described them, prepare the steaks and viscera such as the heart, stomach, cooked together in a certain amount of pig's blood with a little green, spices, pepper, and eaten this meal lane with a bowl of white rice. Blood also enter into sausages industry or what is known Bsjq blood (black pudding), which is prevalent in Europe and parts of Asia, as the blood is used in the manufacture of types of sweets sold in China and Korea stores !. But what about the human blood? Is there a drink or intake? Blood soup .. I hope that you do not feel nauseous, dear reader Yes, of course, the human raw and uncooked blood is sometimes mixed with wine after drinking red wine at private parties held by groups obsessed with vampires to the point of imitating them in everything. There is also a mental illness, leading some to drink human blood, and they do not hesitate to use violence to end, and this rare case is classified as a type of psychological imbalance and mental distress, Valmassabon this disease strongly believe that they are vampires are real, and there are numerous examples - we will discuss it later - for crimes committed these heinous. Is it a special taste for blood? In fact, the blood fluid containing salts, minerals, protein, color distinctive texture viscous and has a special taste, and figured out here that most people savor a taste of where do not feel, for example, while the bite on the lips or the soles of the cheeks by mistake, or when take off one of their teeth or when nose bleed, they do drink and swallow forced blood flowing from their bodies, and I personally would argue, through experience, that special taste for blood, when hurt my mouth sometimes feel the taste and distinctive taste tells me that I was bleeding. No, but there are people who are accustomed to sucking blood from every wound suffer, thinking that they are so lean from loss of blood and reclaiming a portion of it to the inside of their bodies once again, he thought wrong and belief, of course, blood is absorbed through the mouth is not due to the blood stream, but go to stomach and digestive system. Blood broth and Sjgah .. meals fantastic! But if the blood like any other food, which contains minerals and protein and has a taste and taste ... why most people do not like to drink? I think that the psychological factor is the main reason for the reluctance of people and Tgazzzhm him, then the blood itself does not harm the stomach, but in spite of that natural human normal may find it very difficult to drink .. It does not smell palatable .. .. taste .. color .. all of which cause his nausea, but that just does not matter to him and his vision may lead to dizziness and fainted occur in some people. Add to that the risk carried by the blood with him, he is an ideal carrier for a significant number of diseases, contains millions of bacteria, viruses, some of which may be considered a mortal, Kveros AIDS, for example. It is true that the most serious viral diseases are not transmitted through the digestive system, but through the bloodstream up to the members, but we must not forget that bacteria and viruses are creatures microscopic minute they could find a way into the bloodstream for smaller cuts in the wall of the gums and mouth and the lining of the esophagus through and stomach. Vampiric beings If there are vampires are real and natural on this earth to understand certainly are not human, but they are a group of insects, fish, mammals and birds that feed depends on the sustainability of life on the blood, objects graceful sneak stealthily to parasitize bodies Algavlp lightly and craftsmanship envy of vampires Hollywood superheroes; If the vampire bite may lead to the transformation of the victim of a vampire, too, the bites and stings of this bloody objects carry with them serious diseases to humans may lead to perdition. Below we offer you, dear reader Brief months of this bloody gang members: 1 - insects: excel and are the fastest of all the vampires at all, the only creatures that are inevitable from human exposure to capacity for once at least in his life. Who among us does not know the female mosquito? And any of us did not try to capacity annoying?. It is in fact excused in the shed our blood! .. They are in dire need him to obtain the necessary protein to form eggs, so seize lose sight of the landing softly and agility on our bodies Vngrz Ibrtha (Kulaimat) into the skin and secrete saliva prevents blood clotting and then proceed to absorb the blood and draws him even impair efficiency, then flying away leaving us busy rubbing and scratching, we like most creatures have a severe allergy to the saliva of mosquitoes, but this is considered to capacity disturbing and painful, but it is not dangerous in itself, but it may contribute to the deployment of some serious such as malaria and yellow fever disease infection. Tick before and after drinking the blood of a mosquito and flea .. Ticks (Tick) is another type of vampire, which is certainly the most greedy and hope from them, he can suck the amount of blood outweigh its size by 600 times, thanks to the ability to stretch his body high Kalpalon. And ticks of a small insect species Ankabiyat are abundant in North America, Africa and could lead to a capacity to serious illness called Lyme disease. Flea (Flea) Kalaqrad, from Mutaimin by blood lovers, but smaller, often they visit a heavy and non grata on the bodies of creatures warm-blooded animals, like humans and animals, especially cats, dogs, rodents, his mouth Kalmnchar use it in the skin incision to gain access to the blood stream, It is a dangerous carrier of diseases, especially the plague - the Black Death - which contributes to the transfer from rats to humans, one of the most serious epidemics, which has long killed human beings through the ages, and was the cause of the extermination of nearly two-thirds of the population of the European continent in the Middle Ages, it can kill an adult During the 4 days only if did not receive appropriate treatment. In fact insect world teeming Bmusasi blood professional long counted and explain their descriptions, Kaalgheml coming and the insect and fly sand and tsetse .. etc., and all these insects harmful and annoying and carriers of disease, which is also graceful in a very savvy, hide in your bed and between the folds of your clothes enjoy absorb blood from where he does not know, so you must beware of them, dear reader, and ensure consistently clean bed and Mlbisk. Leeches .. worm vampiric 2 - leeches (Leech): worms amphibious feed some types of blood, ranging in length from 3-15 cm, which is endemic to fresh water, such as rivers, ponds and swamps in most parts of the earth, which Khantheh sex, which has members of the nationality of the female and male in the same body But it can not be vaccinated themselves, but you need to sperm from another worm very reproduction. With leeches Compound eyes, but the sense of sight has a very weak, which makes up for this deficiency using some nerve cells highly sensitive to vibrations to locate prey, access and sticking out by two holes Mastin located at both ends of the body, and as soon as the stick leeches in any part of the body of the victim, it flares up three powerful jaws in the skin, causing whereby wound with a three-pronged secreted in which certain chemical liquids you moisten the skin and prevent clotting and expansion of blood vessels, these fluids contribute together to continue the flow of blood through the wound without interruption until full leeches and filled his stomach and fall automatically on the body of his victim, and this process takes Nearly twenty minutes. Because of its ability strange absorption in the blood, human collect worms leeches and used for medicinal purposes for thousands of years, Vmajaw folk medicine use leeches to drag and absorption of bad blood, they say, which restores the body's vitality and activity. Brazilian documented case of a person Warbler fish to the penis and underwent an operation to rescue him 3 - Kandro (Candiru): fish small size does not exceed the length of several centimeters .. but more frightening than Dracula himself !, These fish strange not absorb blood from the neck as he does vampires Hollywood blood, but prefer access to sensitive places inside the bodies of men and women swimmers in the river to suck blood from there !. Alcandro living in the Amazon River in Brazil, and has a big appetite for blood, which is generally parasitize big fish, pay itself firmly into the gills of the victim and then break her teeth and begin to absorb the blood, but sometimes in rare cases, these fish bizarre little her body pushing into the stream urine in the penis to humans or to the inside of the female genitalia - vagina - to settle between the folds of the internal tissues and suck the blood out there, and are believed to be finding their way there by the smell of urine. The problem is real and the catastrophe does not lie in how to enter the fish, but also in how they leave, Vhal this fish applies the words of Egyptian proverb toddler: "He is entering the bathroom uniforms leaving!", As the fish is always unable to get out and stay in the inside of the body until you die and rot, and this calls surgical intervention to remove them quickly so as not to block the urethra or cause serious infections that can lead to inevitable death. Vampire bird! 4 - sparrow Vampire (Vampire finch): In a small island forgotten away amid the waves of the Pacific Ocean sprawling live a strangest creatures and most surprising, a small bird is hardly differs something about birds beautiful league humble that we see sometimes tweet near our windows or combing our gardens and courtyards of homes in search of food crumbs, but surprisingly Asforna not fond of bread and cereals, but blood !. Imagine, dear reader, bird vampire! .. Not seem closer to the birds Hitchhiker horrible movies?. Blood birds live exclusively in Wolf Island (Wolf Island), one of the Galapagos archipelago, a small island does not exceed an area of 1.3 square kilometers, with a dry environment for most of the year, and because of the difficult nature of the birds that inhabited do not find in front of her food only a few seeds produced by island trees, but these seeds quickly dry up and disappear with the end of the short rainy season .. What do these birds desperate to go on in life?! And how to circumvent survived in this dry environment?. Birds found in sea birds a solution to their problems, marine birds build nests on the island, I have learned the birds stealing the eggs from the nests to feed him, and in this amazing way, they are deliberately first to surprise the bird incubator for eggs Vtzhb eggs from beneath stealth and Tdhrjh away from the nest, and because beaks are too weak to break the strong egg shells, the one male birds egg roll by his feet over rocks break even, and so can the birds from reaching the egg-rich protein content. The second way to get the birds to their diets are those that earned her name and fame, they are already feeding on the blood of marine birds, especially birds Gannet, where the latch on the back and you click the roots of large feathers located at the tip of his wing even explode from the blood profusely Fterchw him birdies until saturation, and strange is that Bird's victim barely showing any resistance, prompting some scientists to believe that the relationship between birds and bird Gannet is the relationship between the exchange benefit, where the bird allows birds to drink a little blood in exchange for freeing him from parasites. A picture of the thickness of Lampre and Vampire Bats 5 - Lampre (Lamprey): water creature looks like a sea snake length may be up to a meter, live in fresh water and is characterized form of primitive, his mouth is what most distinguishes him, it does not contain the jaws, but funnel-shaped beset with teeth, use Allambri brilliantly to attach the bodies of fish large, and once clings tightly starts Bnhish victim's skin by sharp teeth down into the bloodstream to absorb. This organism feeds on fish and rarely attack humans. 6 - Vampire bat (Vampire Bat): is the most resemblance in conjunction with a vampire that we see in horror movies, his style featured in intruding on its victims quickly brings to mind scenes of vampires who sneak stealthily in the dark to attack their victims by surprise .. For more information, see our article detailed information on this strange bat. Followed .. Find Vampire (3) .. European myth

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