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purgemarchlockdown · 7 months

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Mercy and Amane Momose

(Also Known As: I'm so normal about Amane Momose, lets talk about the conflation of love and pain.)

(CW: Child Abuse, Cults, Discussion around Death and Child Death)

So, recently the 0708 interrogations have answered T2 Question 09:

Q: What does love mean to you

Kazui has a really interesting response that I'll talk about some other time but what I want to focus on is how Amane answers it.

This Translation of her answer is provided by @/milgram_en over on twitter:

A: To spread mercy with no limits

(@/prisoner-000 has there own translation of it over here, it doesn't change my opinion on this, I just thought it would be important to mention.)

Now that's not exactly the clearest answer but we can put it together with T2 Question 02 to get a clearer picture of what she means:

Q: Do you believe you were loved? A: Very much deeply.

Now, as we know, Amane was abused and judged sinful by her parents and punished because of that, this constant punishment and abuse causing her to hate them so much she wanted to kill them.

Amane: Furthermore, isn’t it condescending of you to assume that just because I happen to be a child, I am incapable of hating someone enough to kill them?

Mercy is defined as compassionate treatment of someone you have the power to hurt, clearly what they did to her isn't mercy in the dictionary sense so why does Amane consider it mercy when the actions done towards her were so painful and traumatizing that it really could have killed her? Most people aren't exactly equipped to survive torture, much less a twelve year old who isn't allowed any sort of aid.

Well, here's the thing. Amane Momose was Told and Treated as sinful for her entire life. She was Taught to believe in her own horrible self. She grew up believing herself to be impure and unholy.

She portrays herself as weak and childish in Magic, she punishes herself in Purge March for making small mistakes. No matter how much she says otherwise, Amane Momose doesn't consider herself to be "good."

Magic very heavily features the concept of being a good girl but it's important to note that Amane never Calls herself that. She says that she could be or she's going be. Not she is a good girl.

I swear! I'm going to be a good girl now! That's it!

I promise! I can only become a better girl!

Purge March's good girl theming isn't as intense as Magic's but it is present, especially in this line.

If you become a bad girl, monsters will come out This is the magic that stops that from happening

This line is during The Cat Scene, a scene where she was "weak" and stole away the cat's trial.

Amane: Both pain and illness are trials. According to our teachings, those who run from them are the worst evil there is. That’s one of the four great principles. No matter who you are, that cannot be forgiven. Es: What are you…? Amane: Oh – speaking of which, there is one among the prisoners right now. An evil existence that’s trying to steal people’s trials away from them.

Evil you say?

Amane doesn't believe herself to be good, or even capable of being good and hates that about herself. If she could be good none of this would have happened. Everyone would be happy.

Only if, only if, only if I could be a good girl I hope, I hope everyone can be happy and smile Forever, forever together would be a dream

This is what makes her parent's actions mercy. If Amane is unable to change who she is and Amane is inherently sinful and impure then her parents trying to "cleanse" her using punishment is...mercy. They could do So Much Worse, but they don't, because they think she could be "better."

It's painful yes but their only doing it to help her. And isn't pain a trial anyway? Really her want to get away from it is just a sign of her weakness.

Dear wise one, Is this ok? Is it ok to be weak sometimes?

And this training, is Supposed to make her less weak. They believe there's still a chance for her, a glimmer of hope that she could be better. That with enough time she won't be Amane Momose anymore. She'll be someone better.

And what's more merciful than that really?

Amane: I’m happy that I was born to my parents! It was a bit difficult, and it could feel restrictive sometimes, but I’m really happy that I could grow up on such beautiful teachings! I want to live this way!

#milgram #amane momose #milgram amane #008 #milgram analysis #milgram meta #cw child abuse #cw cults #this question made me #so fucking sad

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little-forget-me-not · 8 months

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I pushed through the essay even though I have very little confidence in it. And now I'm free. Free for a while to do as I please. But then, of course, I suddenly feel empty. I don't feel like doing anything. I look around me, all the material I've gathered, all the work I've put in, all the money I've spent to keep me alive, to try and better my mental health, to enrich myself, to make a difference...and I just think it's...all meaningless. And I'm not worth it. And I should still be better off dead. Why is it never enough? It doesn't matter how well or badly I do. The result is still derision. It doesn't matter what I triumph over. It's never enough. It's never true to my eyes. I've made it through the years and it was geuninely hell. It was poison for the mind, for the heart and soul, yet I made it through. Yet all I can focus on is the damage. The brokenness. The parts of me that had no control over my circumstance. "It's broken, just throw it away." Just throw me away. Just stop. Trying. But I don't. I don't. I don't know why I don't. When I struggle and have these crises of self, of faith, of being alive, a detached part of me sees it as: self-obsessed. There's narcissism in self-loathing, you know?

I'm really tired of being so against myself. All I can see are deficiencies, playing out right to the T as it is written in the textbooks. The statistics. The journal articles studies and the numbers. "You were made to fail." But it's untrue. And yet it's what I believe in.

Why is it when I finally have time, a little space to do something leisurely...to watch videos, to write creative prose, to research and create and play music, FREE from work obligations, my head only then fills with dark fog? With whispers of decay, of a deteriorating mind, holes in my brain, comparison upon comparison. Insidious, relentless, cruel. Nothing will change, it says. Nothing will change because you are incapable of change. You've given up deep in your soul. You're just going through the motions. Nothing will change.

They say I have changed, I have grown. I'm better now. I smile more now. I'm accomplishing so much with so little. (But others have even less than you) It's not enough. All I see are the things I can't do. And the conclusion is that I am unfit for society. I'm not able to work. I'm not able to be realistic or grounded enough, humble enough to do the real, dirty work of putting myself out there and taking in the real world. The one that bites, and steals and r*pes and kills.

I never got to truly be a child, nor a teen, nor a young adult freely. I had to be too old when I was too young. And young now that I'm old. As I near my indisputable age of adulthood, I am terrified that I am not able to be an adult. One who is stable and reliable, composed and wise. I finally have a taste of the childhood I lost, but the joy is tinged with bitter fear, that it will all be gone. That it isn't enough. I coast by the kindness of strangers and friends. But as I grow and grow, I feel embittered and unlovable. Surely the love will run out. The kindness will wane. And then I have nothing left. Nothing good left.

They say a broken bone heals stronger. I don't think that's factually true. But i don't think it's metaphorically true either. Perhaps once, or twice. But after a lifetime of fractures upon fractures, it takes such a light touch to shatter me. I used to be so strong. Mentally, emotionally. Prided myself on it. I knew suffering and I wore it proudly because I thought it made me strong. But it just ate at me, over the years. And now I no longer feel strong. After all that I've survived, I just feel like an empty husk. Biologically, we only get weaker as we go. I made it further than I ever thought I'd do.

And now I'm so afraid . I don't want to deal with being an adult. I don't want to go through the faces of intimacy vs isolation, generativity vs stagnation. Of integrity and despair. I don't want to go through all of it just to settle in the shadows of what I feared and knew I'd be all along. I've read the texts. I've seen enough, with what little I have. It doesn't end well for people like me. Ni speaking here...probably not true, probably reinforcing my fears with cherry-picked predictions and feelings.

But I'm still afraid I'll regret living.

I'm so afraid of being alive. The more I try, the more broken I feel each year. Despite the growth. Despite the tangible good. Something in me shrivels up as time goes on. I worry I cannot keep it going.

I promised I wouldn't leave though. Not just yet.

I hope I won't regret trying. I hope I won't regret this life.

#vent

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acourtofthought · 1 year

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I could see Elain doing a mistake because she either got manipulated into believing that she could get her humanity back (Not for Grayson) and that no one gets harmed in this, or into believing that it would help the many people and that it would prove the IC that she is in fact capable in helping them and handling dangerous stuff. The aftermath would be a great start of her book. Start with the consequenzes and how she would deal with the guilt and how she would suffer.

You might not believe in this but I do think it would be a great storyline.

I think there are a lot of great storylines that people come up with so it's not that I disagree with you there.

It's just based on my interpretation of Elain as a character, SJM as a writer, and what makes sense to me in terms of how certain events would effect all the characters, I don't see this one happening.

Elain is observant and wise. It's canon at this point. So her falling into a trap and ending up manipulated by someone just strikes me as out of character for her. It plays into the narrative that Elain is sort of a clueless "child" that I know some feel about her. But to me, someone who is written as insightful and who has the ability to see the future does not seem to be the kind of person who foolishly believes she can go off on her own and do something without the help of the others just to prove herself.

I also think Elain has suffered a great deal already. There's a Twitter response that SJM made that states Elain has had her happily ever after ripped away from her.

At the start of Nesta's book she was kidnapped once, had issues from her childhood, lost her humanity and her father (who she didn't even love) and she was at a low point because of all that, using alcohol and sex as an escape. There was nothing that had to happen off page to start SF as interesting.

Elain was kidnapped twice, her humanity was stripped away, also had issues from her childhood, she lost the man she truly loved, lost a father she truly loved, is struggling with a bond she's fully aware of, has had to kill someone when she dislikes violence, and has already expressed how she feels guilty for failing Feyre. I don't really think she now needs more suffering on top of that (in the form of guilt for a failed attempt at doing something to prove herself) to make her story interesting. It's almost guaranteed that she's struggling with her emotions over everything she lost, the same as Nesta, even if she's not outwardly spiraling in the same way. There's no need for her to have some secret plot going on behind the scenes and we then pick up the next book from there. If there were, that becomes the focus rather than resolving all the other things she's been through and has probably been struggling with.

And Elain heading off on her own to try to prove to the IC she's capable of handling stuff only for it to go badly and for them to feel like they were right to believe Elain couldn't actually handle stuff seems counterproductive to me. It would prove she was in fact, incapable, of dealing with anything dangerous. And would then make all the other characters more protective of her.

She also now has a nephew in her life, the wraiths who are friends of sorts, and a better relationship with Feyre than she did before. Do I think that she's where she's meant to be in the end? No. But do I think she'd be looking to find a way back to the human lands and give up her immortality at this point, missing out on those new relationships she has in her life? Also No.

We won't know until we know but unfortunately I'm standing strong on my hill here 😂.

I think what happened with Az in the POV Bonus Chapter is going to drive her to stay at the townhouse to avoid running into him and Rhys will find a way to push her towards visiting Spring with Lucien (where they'll work on restoring it). There's so many hints that Elain is meant to end up there, at least for a short time and also hints that they'll travel to the continent together. To me, those are big enough storylines that anything more just feels unnecessary.

But I do respect you have a different vision and someday all our questions will be answered!

#pro elain archeron #pro elucien

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risingshards · 10 days

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I'm reflecting on my writing a bit, once more thinking about the creative cycles I get on because I'm maybe hitting a familiar roadblock again. Thinking and writing about my personal creative cycles could be useful, but I'm prefacing that I usually just do all these over again so this could also be egotistical navel gazing that doesn't accomplish much of anything.

Maybe important to note I don't feel I have as much of a cycle for the web novels, this is mainly for me attempting to do the equivalent of building an insanely hard Lego kit without instructions that is me writing a manuscript with the intent of shopping it around for a traditional publisher. So once again (this is like my fifth post about this I'm sorry LOL) my cycle for trying to write a tradpub manuscript post college:

I get hit with a sudden desire to do tradpub project (“something to bring to my workshop group,” “A way to flex different creative muscles,” “just want to write something for traditional publishers,” “the beat sheet,” “something to tinker and experiment with,” “trying to climb that big tradpub mountain,” etc.)

I get really excited about it!

I write 1 (one) chapter and bring to workshop, then ride the buzz of them liking it!

I maybe get some more work done on worldbuilding or some more scenes and it feels good and fun. Maybe an outline gets done.

I try to write more chapters. Keyword try. Suddenly it’s not fun. Suddenly writing it is like pulling teeth. Suddenly I'm just trying to write for a publisher and it gets too cynical and I think about all the trends and tropes and corporate stuff and I don't like that feeling.

I then have an epiphany about writing Rising Shards and my other web novels (well just one other at the moment with Reborn but I have other WIP web novels that are going fine) and how I should focus on my main projects first and foremost and how nice it is I have projects I really truly enjoy that express my soul with a medium/format I really love.

Interest continues to wane for new WIP while still I note something like “it’d be fun to have a side project, just something to tinker with, and I’d love to tackle that tradpub mountain someday…”

I write in my diary/post on here about it and then remember that I have this cycle and do this constantly (seriously I've done this like 5 times lol) .

Parts of WIP make it into another project, tradpub ideas abandoned.

Repeat at step 1 after a while.

Going through this so many times you think I'd just get the hint and not try this again. IDK if I'm just like incapable of writing that Mythical Tradpub Project™ but some days it feels like it. When my web novels flow so well and are such fun projects to work on and make me so happy, that I shouldn't worry so much about that tradpub mountain. Generally, that's the way I go. And it's worked out for me so far. I don't make much money on my writing yet, but I have readers. There is a big thing from the Tapas True Love contest coming that I am not entirely sure how much I can say about it yet, but it's something that's bigger than any of my tradpub manuscript attempts, which probably says something big about my weird wrestling game wlw isekai doing better than my "surely publishers will like this" manuscripts.

Maybe I won’t ever be able to take on that tradpub challenge, to build that mythical bajillion piece Lego set, but I am feeling good about the path I'm on writing wise. A writer friend was talking to one of our college profs, who's a published author that works on scripts and such so they're in the know was saying how full our genre is and how big print publishing just kinda sucks right now. That whole mood was a big part of me deciding to self publish Rising Shards as a web novel (including time of me working at a publisher that helped motivate me to get RS out the way I wanted it), and I haven't regretted that one bit.

Again, why do I keep trying when the fruitful path for me has been rejecting that and forging my own way without trying to appease some lit agent or whoever? Maybe it's a chip on my shoulder. Maybe it's just the like "I've been thinking about going about it this way since high school, I should at least try." A lot of my writer friends are trying and it makes me want to try too. It's that pie in the sky big lottery ticket win of writers (but probably a lot more attainable than a big lottery ticket win.)

What does that mean for my Wolves of Hope and Stardust project? IDK. I love that name. I like the premise, I thought it'd be the one to break through my "ugh feeling at chapter two" vibe. I’ve put a lot of thought into it so surely it’ll end up somewhere. I have notebooks specifically for it, one for worldbuilding and one to try and hand write it. Maybe this is just a blip and I'll pick up work on it again. For now, this summer is gonna be Rising Shards, Reborn in a Fighting Game with My Rival, and Collab Project as my big ones. I might tinker a bit with Wolves, but maybe this time I really need to go SLOOOOWLY and build it up to try and find a way around me hating it by the second chapter. Having an experimental project is fun, and I have a rough idea for a thing I wanna do at some point (I'll put that in a separate post) but I usually fall on this loop and end up going "Wait I love Rising Shards and Reborn and collab project the most." So next time you see me talking about some new tradpub project to finally climb that mountain, maybe link this one so I can give myself some reasonable expectations.

#chiral writes #wohas #rising shards #riafgwmr #i should tally all the times i've written about this lol #tradpub woes #long post

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wired-for-weird · 2 years

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hi idk if this would be up your alley prompts-wise but maybe vampire starvation and being right on the edge of losing control? :3

I REFUSE TO BELIEVE YOU DIDNT KNOW WHAT YOU WERE DOING WHEN YOU SENT THIS, WHO ARE YOU

transmasc human X vampire

Content notes: monster POV, one-sided pining, blood, dubcon, noncon fantasies

***

You really shouldn't be here.

It's your own fault, you're perfectly clear on that. You're well-practised at (hah) living your life half-fed. You know your limits, how long you can safely starve yourself down to the half-day. You shouldn't have let things get to this point.

And yet, somehow, at some point, you fucked up. One botched hunt turns into a week of low profile, two nights hiding at home are two nights you can't get back, then three, then four, and by then you're already so tired and hungry that the effort of safe hunting feels monumental, so best to just try to sleep and wait for the creeping cold and the gnawing at your insides to die down, just a little, just enough to let you think-

And so on.

Idiot.

So here you are. Shuddering with withdrawal on his doorstep, gripping the doorframe tight enough to splinter, praying to a god you don't believe in that you won't have to knock again. You don't want to think about what would happen if you woke the neighbours.

You hear the rattle of the latch and for a moment the needling cold in your limbs is banished by a surge of oh thank god. He leans on the door, tousled and groggy, the walkway light making him squint. He smells good, warm, like cheap beer and smoke and sleep, and you're so fucking hungry.

His heartbeat picks up when he recognises you. The squint becomes a concerned frown, "Everything all right?"

He's got eyes, he can see it's not, but you shake your head anyway, "Can we talk?"

"Yeah. Yeah, 'course. One second, I got-" He waves vaguely, and the cold comes back in a rush as you pick out a second heartbeat, fainter, still slowed in sleep. Fuck. Fuck, he's got someone else with him. Why did he have to have someone else with him? Not that he can't sleep with whoever he likes. Obviously. Fuck. Why didn't you think of this ahead of time?

You try to backtrack, "If you- you know what, doesn't matter, I can just-"

"Oh, shut up." He leaves the door swinging open behind him as he vanishes back into the flat. You hear murmured voices, the rustling of bedsheets and clothes. You could leave now, but then what? It's not like you've got anywhere else to go.

His 'friend' shoulders past you, resentment rising from him like steam. You hold your breath as he leaves, but it doesn't do any good. His scent is unfamiliar, no associations to keep him safe from you. And it would be so easy to-

"You gonna stand out there all night?"

Your eyes snap back into focus. You're here to avoid that sort of thing. You breathe in, and tell yourself you feel calmer, "Sorry. Uh- can you-" You stub the toe of your shoe against the threshold, "It's fucking stupid, I know, but right now I'm not-"

"Yeah, fine, whatever. Come in." You follow him inside. You've never been able to work out why that particular impulse is even a thing. Something to do with territorial instincts, maybe? Whatever the reason, it's embarrassing. Apex predator biologically programmed to be incapable of home invasion. What a joke.

He drops onto the sofa, rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes, "Right. What's got you in such a twist that can't wait til morning?"

You wish you could be having this conversation outside. You could turn your face away, wouldn't have to look him in the eye or breathe him. The image of him tangled up with some stranger won't leave you, all snarled up with your hunger and you have to ignore it but it's so fucking difficult with him there half dressed and still half-asleep, bared skin and warm blood and he is staring at you because you haven't said anything for several seconds now, he's waiting for you to get to the point so say something-

"Sorry about your date." Your voice is clipped, "If I'd known-"

"It's no big deal. Told him it was an emergency. Whiiiich I'm gonna guess it is." He gives you a deliberate once-over, "You look like shit, mate."

"And I'm usually just glowing with health."

"Cut the crap, Red, it's three in the morning." He props his head on his hand and looks up at you, "Hey. I wanna help if I can, I really do. But I'm not gonna play twenty questions for it, so just tell me what it is you need, yeah?"

All the little speeches and persuasive turns of phrase you've been rehearsing in your head on the way over here desert you. You can't talk your way around this. Your teeth itch and your throat aches and there is a gaping, twisting hollow where your stomach should be. You swallow hard.

"I need you to let me feed from you."

His face doesn't change, but his heartbeat lurches and the sharp taste of adrenaline edges the air. You recognise this from when he first found out what you were. He is afraid of you.

"I don't trust myself around anyone else." You speak quickly and clearly, "I left it too long, and if I have to go hunting, I won't- it won't end well. But if you... I don't want to hurt you." That's a lie. You don't want to want to hurt him. There's a difference.

"So you want me to let you drink my blood." His voice is flat. The fear scent is thick and close.

"You can say no."

"Bullshit." The hard edge to his voice makes you flinch.

"I mean it." You do. "I'm not even gonna ask why, I'll just leave."

"And let you waltz off into the night and murder some poor bastard?" He rubs his hands over his face, "Fucking hell, mate, d'you see what kind of position you've put me in?"

You stare at the floor without answering. You aren't going to insult him with an excuse, or an apology. You have said what you came here to say. There is a long, long pause. Gradually, his heartbeat slows a little.

"...So how do we do this?"

You shouldn't be glad, but you are. Beyond glad, you're fucking ecstatic. You fumble in your jacket and hold something out to him. He stares.

"Is that a fucking stake?"

"You can have it between me and you the whole time. That way, even if I'm wrong, you can just-" You make a jabbing motion, "No more problem."

He's still staring. You know what he's thinking, because you're thinking it too. Just stake the monster anyway and have done with it. That would be the safest thing to do. At this point, it's a risk you're willing to take. After all, he has to trust that you won't just rip his throat out.

Carefully, he reaches out and takes it from you, weighing it in his hand, "Okay. Does it have to be the neck? Can you, I dunno, bite me in the arm or something?"

"Probably, yeah. Got the most practise finding the carotids, though."

"Neck it is then. I'm not having you make a dogs breakfast of my elbows." He points the stake at you like a sword, "And any hint of you fucking up gets you the business end, okay?" His tone is light and he's almost smiling. His eyes don't match it at all.

You practically jam the thing against your ribs for him, and he flinches from you. You're moving too fast, too eager, too close. You can't help it, except you're going to have to, because the one thing you cannot have him do right now is to change his mind and say no. Pull yourself together. Don't give him a reason to think that you'll enjoy this.

So you let go of his wrist. You move carefully and deliberately to sit beside him. You don't lean in. You relax your jaw, the curl in your lip and fingers. You are in control. He is safe with you.

You can't take your hands off him entirely.

"I won't do anything unless you say." Sincere, measured. He breathes in, out, steeling himself. You wait. His pulse is rapid under your palm. Finally, he tightens his grip on the stake, and nods.

You keep your movements deliberate, feeling the slightest pinprick of pain against your ribs as you lean towards him. His chest rises and falls quickly and his breath is golden-warm as it rolls over your jaw. You set your teeth against his neck and allow yourself one fraction of a second to fix this moment in your memory, desire and satisfaction a skin's width apart, wanting at a pitch you haven't felt since you were newborn. Then you bite down.

Blood fills your mouth and for a moment you are so paralysed with the taste that you forget to swallow. Hot and rich and copper-tang and salt, cut sour with alcohol and nicotine and that bright, surging, gorgeous current of fear. You thought you were hungry before, but with the first wash of heat down your throat something new unfurls inside you, sharp and lethal and starving, and you can't help it, you moan against his neck and there is no way he didn't hear you but for once in your life you can't bring yourself to care.

It's a strange experience, feeding from someone who isn't trying to fight you off, not having to take little and quickly and gone almost as soon as you've begun. You can take your time. To begin with he's tense as all hell (and really, can you blame him?), but as you drink he begins to relax, just a fraction. His heart rate slows, each pulse strong and regular. You can imagine his expression softening, eyes fluttering half-closed. His head tilts away from you a little, exposing more of his neck, giving you more room. It could almost be an invitation.

It's not, though. It's just the sedative in your saliva working its way through his system. That or the bloodloss. But you can pretend.

The point of the stake stays lodged beneath your ribs as you shift, practically climbing into his lap as you adjust your hold. He's gripping it with both hands now, and it strikes you suddenly how absurd a precaution it is. If you wanted to get rid of it, you could just wrap your hands around his wrists and squeeze. You could pin him there and take anything you wanted, everything you wanted and told yourself you didn't, couldn't, could crush him to you and bite and kiss and dig into him until he screams. If you wanted to.

Instead, you hold him as gently as you can, almost tenderly. Anywhere you touch seems to glow beneath your fingertips. That thing that woke in you has calmed, sinuous and luxuriating in the warm blood filling your belly. This is what makes eternity worth it. Fuck the philosophical stuff, the fantasies of infinite skill or power or spectating the future of a species you no longer belong to, fuck all of that, because it is nothing compared to the sheer, brief, ravening joy of being fed.

It can't last.

He pushes you away, not hard, not even with the stake but with a flat palm on your chest. And you let him. It isn't easy. There's no struggle, no moment where you sink your teeth in deeper on instinct, no second where you forget your promise and whose blood it is on your tongue. But that doesn't make it an easy thing to do.

You stumble off him, keenly aware of his skin leaving yours, the stretch of cold air now between you. That's good, the gap is a good thing, makes a boundary, clears your head. You need to clear your head. God, he's gone so pale.

You've never had to look after somebody afterwards before. You do your best- help him lie back properly on the sofa, raid his fridge for orange juice (it's technically out of date but the seal is still on and he hasn't touched it since he bought it, so it should be all right?) and the bathroom cabinet for bandage and medical tape. He's got a killer of a headache, but the only thing in the cabinet is aspirin, and you're pretty sure that's not something you're supposed to give to somebody who's still bleeding, so you tell him you couldn't find it. You tape gauze over the wound you left while he complains and tries to drink straight from the carton at the same time. After that, you sit on the floor by the sofa and wait for him to recover.

You're still hungry, of course. But it's a normal hunger, the kind you live with every day. The dizzying feeling of balancing at the edge of a cliff has gone, and your hands are no longer shaking. You are yourself again. For whatever that's worth.

You hug your knees to your chest, wrapping yourself around the small glow of warmth at your core. You know you should go hunting as soon as you leave, that was the whole damn point of this, but you don't want to. That would- bring the whole thing down, somehow, make it normal, mixing his blood with the blood of strangers you couldn't give a fuck about, diluting and destroying this little piece of him that's properly yours.

His breathing has slowed, and you almost panic before realising that he's just dozed off. You tug gently on his sleeve, "Hey. Hey, you probably shouldn't sleep here."

"Mngh." He swats vaguely at your hand, "Tired. Gonna sleep here."

"You're gonna fuck up your neck."

"'S already pretty fucked up."

Point taken.

Still, he drags himself to his feet, leaning on you while he regains his balance. You want to hug him or something, show some actual normal human affection, but you seem to have forgotten how, and anyway, he's already meandering his way back to his room to collapse face first onto the bed. You trail after him, and hover awkwardly in the doorway, trying to ignore the scent of that stranger still clinging to everything.

"You gonna be all right?"

"Yeah, yeah." He turns over, punching the pillow into shape, "Had hangovers worse'n this."

"D'you want me to stay?"

"No."

It shouldn't hurt. He's not being dismissive. Or cruel. He's tired and short on words because of the fucking monumental favour he's just done you, and you owe him for it. So it shouldn't hurt.

"Door's not on the latch, yeah?"

"Yeah. It'll lock behind you."

"Alright." You pause, fumbling for the right words, "Thanks. Seriously. For- I know you said I wasn't giving you a choice, not a real one, but it- I get what you did for me. And it means a lot."

The words sound thin and pathetic to you but for the first time since you showed up, he smiles at you. It's exhausted and wry and you're fairly certain he's laughing at your attempts to thank him for acting as a human juicebox, but it's still a smile and with it everything seems a lot more bearable.

"'Course I'm gonna help. Dread creature of the night or not, you're still my mate."

You smile back. Without showing your teeth.

You say goodnight. You debate whether or not to leave the stake here, and decide to take it with you. Don't want him to think you'd come looking for a repeat performance. This should be a one-time thing. This has to be a one-time thing. You tip what's left of the orange juice down the sink. You are not making excuses to put off leaving.

You stand in the hallway, staring at the threshold of the open door. This is not a vampire problem. This is a you problem. You want to stay. You want to crawl into bed with him and bury your head between his shoulder blades and know that he'll never be scared of you, not for a second, because he trusts you and you'd never do anything to fuck that up once you had it.

Yeah. Right. You've got such a great track record there.

Your stomach growls as you step out onto the walkway and close the door behind you as quietly as you can. You've got hunting to do before sunrise.

#wires writes #TWO MONTHS AND 2700ISH WORDS LATER AND I GOT THIS FINISHED #I hope it's worth it #I had fun tho so really who is the real winner here #nobody in this fic thats for certain \o/#I l o v e pining and angst and pain it fuels me #monster POV

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daisylincs · 3 years

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It's time to see what I can do! To test the limits and break through// no right no wrong no rules for meee// I'm freeeeeeeeee (and i was glad lincoln died)

*silence*

*utter, shocked silence*

Well, Birdie, I only have one thing to say to you --

Why Lincoln Campbell Shouldn't Have Died: A Small Essay By Lily [Redacted]

#1. It’s Lazy. There was all this fuss about how “heart-breaking” Lincoln’s death was, and how it was the most shocking choice, and I’m just like... really? Was it? Because frustrating as it is to me, it’s true that Lincoln didn’t have any significant relationships on the show aside from his with Daisy, and he also didn’t have the time/the writers didn’t invest the time to make him a character the audience could become really close to.

And I don’t see how that’s a shocking choice at all? That’s just taking the easy way out of things. If they had really wanted to make a heart-breaking death, it would have been so much worse to choose literally anyone of the OG team.

Or, heaven forbid, not to make anyone die at all!! (Yes, I hate the Fallen Agent arc. Yes, that’s a conversation for another day.) But think about it: it would have been way more original, way more shocking, to have Lincoln not die, or find a super original/Fitzsimmons-esque way to get past the vision. It could’ve been way more shocking and ultimately satisfying if the whole team had worked together to avoid someone dying, and succeeded in avoiding that. It would have made excellent bonding.

And it wouldn’t have been lazy, because Lincoln staying alive would force him and Daisy to have some tough conversations, i.e. Hive and SHIELD and what’s next. It would also have meant an equal amount of tricky conversations with the rest of the team - especially surrounding the whole Hive debacle and methods used during it (*coughs in murder vests*). It would’ve actually been much harder than just having Lincoln die... and isn’t that what good storytelling is supposed to do? Make the harder choice for an ultimately far more satisfying resolution?

Because choosing Lincoln to die makes it feel like that was his only purpose on the show, and I can’t help but rage against that. I know that’s how a lot of people actually do see Lincoln, and it just makes me so furious, because that’s actually such a disservice to his character?? He was so much more than just Daisy’s doomed boyfriend, and he could have been even more. Which brings me to my next point -

#2. Wasted Opportunities. I’ll always believe that one of the biggest missed opportunities on the show was that we never got to see Lincoln properly bond with anyone on the team - it was like the writers started, but then decided he was going to die, and then went all, oh, RIP that. Which, honestly, is stupid - because they created this amazing character that had so much potential, and then decided to drop it just like that.

And I mean, dammit!! Aside from Daisy, Lincoln had prime opportunities to bond with at least five other characters on the team - May, Coulson, Jemma, Fitz, and Mack, and that’s not even starting on the other Secret Warriors.

He had a little bit of bonding with May when Lash/Andrew was still a thing - but then, whoops-a-daisy, unequivocally dropped. And like... Lincoln and May could’ve been such a good friendship?? Imagine May initially terrifying the living daylights out of Lincoln, but slowly seeing that he’s not actually that different to Daisy, and he makes her happy? And maybe inviting him to t’ai chi with her, to help control her powers? And him in turn helping give her some closure over Katya Belyakov/telling her that she really did make the only choice? They could’ve developed a mother/son bond just as beautiful as Daisy’s, if AoS had only tried.

Then there’s Coulson. Daisy’s (basically) dad. We got to see a little bit of this, especially in the 3x14-15 era, but I would have loved to see even more of Coulson not-so-subtly threatening Lincoln, but grudgingly coming to accept him as a good agent (and, though he’d never admit it, kinda liking the guy.) Ugh, it could have been so funny and GOOD!!

Fitz and Jemma, to do them in a package deal, could also have been a GREAT BroTP with Lincoln if they had only actually developed it. I would have loved to see a) FitzSimmons initially distrusting Lincoln and being like “if you hurt Daisy...” and then eventually growing to bond with him over science and, well, adoring Daisy, b) a Lincoln-and-Simmons-specific friendship starting after Maveth, for example, Jemma can’t really be around her friends because they keep pitying her and trying to help and she doesn’t want that, so here’s someone new who’s nice and can also distract her with a common interest, and finally c) Lincoln and Fitz bonding over, oh, Daisy, and being ridiculously in love. Just. C’mon. It could’ve been WONDERFUL - and, just think about it, the picture of a Fitzsimmons-and-Lincoln triple alliance out-science-ing Daisy. FAB.

And Mack!! Someone who’s basically Daisy’s older brother, and, I do believe, another one for the Don’t-Hurt-Daisy pile. But Mack’s also very just, and an excellent judge of character, plus he was literally listening in on their first kiss, lmfao. So I think he’d be that “ugh AGAIN you two stop *eye roll*” big brother, but secretly be very happy for them. (I would’ve LOVED to see it, ahhhh.)

Then, of course, the Secret Warriors!! If anyone would listen, I could R A G E for days about how we only had one episode with the Secret Warriors, and that only barely before it all blew apart. But what snippets we had in that one episode!! Lincoln comforting Joey when he gets stressed before a mission. That’s canon. Now imagine Lincoln learning Spanish for both him and Elena (and so the three of them can fuck with Daisy.) And him encouraging them to follow Spanish traditions, because he picked up a lot of “traditions are important” culture from Afterlife. And, of course, them all going to Pride together to support Joey...

My point is just, there is so much MORE AoS could have done with Lincoln’s character, but especially his bonds with the other main cast. Instead of highlighting his relationship with Daisy, I would’ve preferred a lot more focus on his bonds with the rest of the gang. Because, most simply put, he’s a nice guy and loves Daisy - but that’s not all he is, and also, that love for Daisy would mean he WOULD go out of his way to bond with her family. (Point made.)

#3. It Conflicts With The S5 Time Paradox. During the Fallen Agent arc, all we’re hearing about is how time is fixed, and a death is inevitable. And then in season 5, we have the same thing with the time loop... except, they manage to break it then. We’re literally told, “there are many different futures.” And, cool. But, uh... that’s exactly what you guys didn’t say in season 3!!

Because someone saw a death, a death had to happen. My question is just: if the loop could have been broken in s5, why couldn’t the death have been avoided in s3?? It wouldn’t even have been that hard to make it still fit with the vision - Daisy can quake the controls to destroy them, then Lincoln pulls her out of the quinjet, but she leaves the jacket behind. Hive dies, but no-one else - and the best part is, that even still fulfils the original vision, because someone did die. Hive. Click boom.

And if I can figure that out, then, come on, surely AoS could have done so much better!! It just... really frustrates me, hrrrg.

#4. It Becomes A Plot Point To Hurt Daisy. We all like to joke about how much AoS hurts Daisy, but... this is extreme?? Like?? She only just went through probably the biggest trauma of her life, being freaking possessed, and now you want to make her lose someone she loves too? Cruel.

The only real reason the Fallen Agent arc ever existed was, let’s be real, to force Daisy into that spiral of hurt and depression. And, like... she already had more than enough trauma just from Hive. Nobody would have blamed her for running away then - in fact, how very Daisy it would have been, leaving before she could hurt anyone else she loved.

And then, of course, we could have had Lincoln and the team working together to find her and bring her back, and, heyo, bonding!! It could also have been such a good point for Staticquake’s relationship, what with Lincoln helping Daisy recover after depression/withdrawal, because who better suited, and Daisy slowly forgiving herself and them becoming that much more of a deeply caring, solid ship.

So in short - though, 🙈🙈🙈, I suppose I should really say in long, because it would seem I am incapable of doing anything in a short fashion - I don't think anyone should be "glad" about Lincoln's death. If anything, we should all be FURIOUS, and super frustrated, because if he had only lived, there could have been so many excellent storylines, both bonding-wise and regarding THE ACTUAL PLOT (his powers could have been SO HELPFUL, just, argh). Lincoln Campbell should not have died, and I will stand by that till the day I die.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

#ask #you can say a lot of things to me but DON'T say you're glad Lincoln died #cause that's a really downright ARSEHOLE thing to do #and you will get lectured for it #at length #as shown here #and probably not talked to for a while #again as shown here #😤#**lily rants #staticquake #defending staticquake #queue'll figure it out together

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worldsmostdangerous-archived · 6 years

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Mun, how do you feel about all the newly named revolutionaries? Personally I'm excited!

// Oh boy am I, buckle up because you’re in for a ride

I have been waiting for Oda to reveal the commanders (though I don’t think he revealed all of them, or if he did then it’s bad writing on his part again) for years. And mostly I am satisfied with the results - as far as I can be with Oda. I’ve never been terribly a fan of his character designing, mostly because of aesthetic reasons and I would have preferred more realistic and practical outfits. But knowing what we have seen of Oda’s capabilities of designing outfits, I think he could have done way worse with the commanders.

Now many people in the fandom are disgusted and annoyed by Belo Betty’s outfit design, and it’s understandable. But to me it’s a two way street. On one hand, Betty’s shirt being open is infuriating because we all know Oda is sexist, but on the other, dictating how women (or anyone, but we’re talking about women here) should dress whether it’s covering herself completely or wearing revealing clothing, is demeaning in itself (and also sexist). Only she can choose what she wears and how she wears it. It’s not anyone else’s business.

So I’m little annoyed but not entirely livid about it, therefore I can look past it. In other news, I like her hat a lot.

In general, looking at Betty’s personality and abilities, I’m quite pleased. She is very close to a commander oc of mine that I never brought to tumblr or used in any kind of way in many aspects (and it’s slightly scary??? Oda how???). Her devil fruit for example is almost precisely like my oc’s (she used just her voice/words instead of waving a flag) and her personality is pretty close to my oc’s also. Just that my oc would never call citizens she was about to help out ‘useless trash’ or ‘garbage’, or an over weight colleague a ‘potato giant’. When I first read the part in the chapter it didn’t settle quite in completely because I was trying to imagine Dragon promoting someone as ill-mannered like that to a commander’s rank and was having a hard time with it. However -

It is true that there is no point in helping people who have no will to fight for themselves, for their loved ones and freedom and rights at this point. The army doesn’t have unlimited resources. It makes sense to focus on parties with motivation to avoid direct contact with the Government and Cipher Poll, from a strategic point of view. The army won’t be of any use for changing the world or reach its goals if it throws its chances out before it’s their time.

That said revolutionaries are not heartless and completely set in the military mindset. They cannot be. They’re not after power or protection, they’re after ending inequality. So I can see Dragon allowing the higher ups (like the commanders themselves) help out citizens outside of their influence radar when they absolutely know for 100% certainty they will win because it is morally correct. It is comprehensible that people are afraid and incapable to fight back, but it’s also inconsiderate and thoughtless.

Therefore my Dragon would frown upon Betty’s vulgar language but agree with her actions and recognize her accomplishments.

Now while my oc was a high ranking commander (close to Dragon especially but not as close as Ivankov), it is blowing my mind how Betty appears to be the highest ranked (or at least most respected) out of the four commanders. Lindbergh is openly seen asking for Betty’s permission to handle the pirates, and later on Betty gives out orders to Lindbergh and Karasu which they execute without question. This is huge coming from Oda. And I’m much pleased with it!

Karasu’s design is basically Killer-Doffy/Roci-Kid fusion, which is 100% Oda-like. I’m not incredibly fascinated with it but it fits in so I’m okay with it. I do wonder if he was wearing the feather coat and beak mask before eating his devil fruit and if he did I’m curious about the reason. With Katakuri Oda has given us proof that sometimes when a character wears something that covers a part of their face (or completely) there is a very good reason for it. Now the all time question mark in this regard is Killer, but Karasu’s case makes me wonder even more. I like Karasu’s name especially tbh.

Regarding his devil fruit it is self-evident that he helped Sabo back to the revolutionaries’ ship at the end of Dressrosa. And from that scene we know that Karasu hasn’t had the devil fruit for very long - or he never reported receiving it. I would lean more to not having it for long because of loyalty reasons, personally. I really like him too (as I do like Betty a lot) but I think it’s mostly because of his reserved personality (but not shy!) and crows.

Morley is precious if I’m being quite honest. First of all, he’s a giant, and second of all he is not super duper lean and skinny and muscly like most characters (especially those who fight) are. That’s lots of points to Oda already. And he appears to be lgbt+ which! is! amazing! I am hesitant about his trident weapon though.

Out of all the commanders Lindbergh is the one I have a bone to pick on with Oda. His name is good, but his character design is 100% already seen somewhere else before. He looks way too familiar but I cannot put my finger on it. He appears to be a mink and while I like that he’s some other race than human, I would have loved to see a fishman commander instead. It does make sense for the revolutionaries to have their own weapon developer but why is he a commander…? He should solely be in the equipment division. Plus while I can see how Karasu and Morley gained their commander rank, I cannot see any plausible way for Lindbergh. Nothing about his personality appears suitable for leadership. But since he’s canon I’m hoping someone picks him up as a muse and spends time to develop his character so that his rank is justified.

The weapons seem cool though.

All in all, I’m satisfied with the immense diversity in the commanders. Having more females (appearance wise, their real gender could be anything) would have been a nice thing to see but we cannot have everything. That said there is gender diversity, there is race diversity - all we lack is skin colour diversity. Which, I guess we have kinda with Lindbergh but you already know how I feel about him.

I love that Betty appears highly respected (even the citizens of Momoiro island were excited to see her), and I love that Oda is showing us the Revolutionary Army truly is accepting of and open to everyone. And I have long believed it goes without saying that the army would be divided into smaller armies across the world because they’re against the World Government, not a single country, so seeing that Oda believes the same is a feast on the eyes. (So yes, I believe the compass points mentioned in the introduction of the commanders equal the four Blues.) This line up of commanders is in character for my Dragon which makes me happy.

Draws breath where’s my revo commander rp blogs at

#//the commanders are awesome and the hype died out way too quickly for my liking #//thank you for granting me the chance to word vomit about them #//mun speaks #opspoilers #asks #Anonymous

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