#real life might have killed the rest of my writing ambitions and all of my time to participate in fandom but this series lives on!

[redrobinfection]

Alfred’s Favorite Barbara

Babs & Alfred || Read on Ao3 || Happy Birthday, Barbara Gordon! ❤

<< A sequel to last year’s “Batgirls’ Favorite Mentor” 

~*~

Barbara leaned forward and spit out the toothpaste Cass had let her use, on one of the many spare toothbrushes Alfred kept in the guest toiletries stockpile, then leaned back in her chair with a sigh and considered her mostly-put-together-again reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Wow, that had certainly been a party of a night, she mused, ruefully lifting a strand of her sleep-mussed auburn locks before deciding that pulling it back in a bun was really the only dignified solution.

Steph and Cass had kept her up all night--not like that was all that much different from her usual schedule, but mani, pedi, facials, horrible (great) superhero movies, and gossip until dawn had worn her out more than she would have expected. Although, the wine that had snuck into the mix right when the mani-pedis were left to dry and the third movie went in might have had something to do with it, she conceded with a smirk at herself in the mirror. It wasn't a bad sort of tired, she admitted as she tucked few stray hairs into her messy bun, but she was more than ready for a day to rest, recover and recharge.

Just after dawn, Alfred had invaded the sanctum of their home theater encampment to invite them up to the kitchen for a hearty breakfast. There he had laid out toast, eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit, juices, teas, coffee, pancakes and even some of the real cake from the night before--a rare breach of protocol from the prim and proper butler that Barbara took as a one-time gesture of affectionate indulgence of their whims--which eventually drew out the other occupants of the house, turning breakfast the morning after into as much of a party as dinner the night before had been.

After that, Alfred had shooed Steph and Cass off to bed and shown Barbara up to her regular guest room where the bed had already been turned down, the pillows fluffed and the blackest of blackout curtains tightly drawn, bless that man. After a few hours of much needed sleep, it was now just past noon, most of the manor's occupants were either still sleeping or out living their daylight personas, and Alfred had offered to drive her back to the Clocktower after she had "freshened up a bit".

Satisfied that she had done as much as she could to make herself decent for the drive of shame, Barbara gathered her things and made her way down the hall to the elevator. Alfred was waiting for her when the doors opened on the civilian garage.

"Ah, Miss Barbara, I take it you're ready to depart?"

"Yes. Thank you for driving me back, Alfred."

"Of course, it's my pleasure."

He led the way toward their several limousines, opened the door to one very special vehicle and began extending and lowering a long ramp. Barbara pressed her lips together to hide a smile as Alfred stepped to one side and let her wheel herself up the shallow incline. He retracted the ramp, closed the door and slid into the driver's seat while she positioned herself in the sleek interior and locked the wheels of her chair.

"Thanks again, Alfred. For everything," Barbara added as they pulled out of the garage. "Last night, this morning...it was all amazing and it must have been so much work--extra work--for you. I really appreciate it."

She saw his eyebrows rise in the rear-view mirror as he replied, "Of course. It was no trouble; I would hardly label hosting a small dinner in honor of and giving accommodations to one of my favorite persons "work". It was a pleasure, Miss Barbara."

She raised an eyebrow in turn. "Oh really? A fairly large dinner, putting up with the mess we all made in the theater afterwards, and putting together a big breakfast in the morning--and driving me back after letting me stay over, even when I'm sure you've got plenty of cleaning up to do? 'Favorite person' huh? If I didn't know better I'd think you were buttering me up for something, Alfred Pennyworth," she teased, sharing a knowing look with him in the mirror.

He didn't laugh out loud, but his eyes twinkled in that way Barbara knew meant he was amused rather than offended. "My word! Is it so hard to believe that an old man would take pleasure in doing what little he could to celebrate the birthday of his favorite Barbara."

Barbara did laugh out loud. "Your favorite...huh! First Jason calls me his favorite, then Tim and Dick, then Steph and Cass... and now you? All of you in less than twenty-four hours? Did you all have a meeting to discuss the topic or am I about to go home to one of the hardest cases of all time and you're all buttering me up to it?"

"I believe the subject had come up recently," Alfred replied evenly. "You do so much for this family and receive so little appreciation..."

"That's my line," Barbara muttered incredulously with a minute shake of her head.

"...and I'll have you know that of all the Barbaras I've had the pleasure of knowing, you most certainly rank supreme."

Barbara huffed a laugh through her nose. "And how many Barbaras is that exactly?"

Alfred met her eyes in the mirror and fixed her with an impressive look. "When you've lived as long as I have, served as long as I have, you come to know a great many people. Among all of those... you are rare soul indeed, Barbara. Surely one to celebrate and to venerate."

That gave her pause. What are you supposed to say to something like that? She didn't know, so she let the silence stretch and turned her gaze to the traffic speeding past her window while her true focus turned to beating down the bloom of color that had flooded her cheeks at Alfred's unexpected pronouncement. 

They rode in silence--not an uncomfortable silence, but Barbara still felt the weight of those words still hanging heavy between them--for the rest of the drive. They'd caught the lull between the lunch-hour jam and afternoon rush-hour traffic--likely a strategic choice on Alfred's part--so it only took about twenty minutes to make the trip into the city. 

Alfred graciously helped her disembark, escorted her to the ground level door to the tower, and--to her surprise--asked to walk her in, pulling a cooler bag from somewhere with leftovers from the revelries. Barbara invited him in, sending him ahead of her with repeated thanks, but the words of appreciation died in her throat as she rolled over the threshold and took in the interior of her homebase. 

She wasn't a slob, per se, but Barbara knew she didn't tidy up around the Tower quite as often as she should, and she cleaned the place even less frequently. It was a lot of real estate for one person--a person with certain mobility issues, at that--and a small army of specially programmed Roombas and some casual dusting here and there could only do so much. 

But today, her foyer was spotless. All the coats, umbrellas and other detritus were neatly hung or stacked in their places. The tile was a shade lighter than she remembered and the grout was actually white--she'd actually thought it was tan up until now. 

Moving into her apartment showed the same story. Shelves of books and knick-knacks were freshly dusted, the rugs had been deeply vaccuumed, and personal items had been put away or neatly arranged. Every surface gleamed.

She turned to Alfred with an accusing look. "Alfred... did you...?" One look at his quietly pleased expression was answer enough. "When did you even find the time to come over here and do this? Did you clean the whole Tower?" She wouldn't doubt it. She didn't bother to ask him how he got into her super-secure, high-tech lair--this is the ex-MI6 agent who raised Bruce, after all--but given the timeline of events, it shouldn't have been possible for him to clean all this by himself and do everything he did for them while she was at the manor. 

"We did, in fact, clean the entire tower--and we took great care not to disturb any of your things in the command center, mind you--but it hardly took any time at all with Masters Damian and Timothy along to help. In fact, we were in and out well before you rose from your nap this morning."

Barbara's eyebrow rose into her hair. Alfred had wrangled Tim and Damian--in the morning, of all times--into cleaning? Together? Without killing each other? 

"Wow, Alfred, you got Tim and Damian to work together to do all of this...? At eight in the morning? You're a miracle worker, for sure. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this.

"Really, Alfred...this--" she gestured to rooms around them "--the party, the sleepover, and then breakfast... you've done so much. Thank you. It means a lot to me, but, really, you didn't need to do all this. It's... it’s too much..." 

Alfred looked away for a moment, his expression uncharacteristically sheepish. "Ah, well. Yes. I admit, I may have gone a bit overboard..."

They entered the kitchen and Barbara came to a complete stop. The appliances shone, the stove was spotless, and, for once, the sink was completely free of dishes. But that wasn't what stopped her dead in her tracks. 

On the polished kitchen table, laid out elegantly on a freshly washed and pressed table cloth that Barbara had forgotten she even owned, was a handsome tea set in lustrous lavender and gold--one pot, saucers, cups, sugar cellar and creamer. To one side sat a few varieties of Alfred's favorite teas, and on the other a plate piled high with Alfred’s signature tea cakes, one of her favorite things about visiting the manor for pre-patrol briefings or post-patrol debriefings, back in the day. A recipe card stuck out under the plate.

Barbara turned to Alfred, her vision going misty. "Alfred..."

Alfred graced her with a rare smile, beaming down at her, his expression fond, but his voice was quiet, "For when you need a break from Master Tim's gift of espresso or a moment of peace after along night."

Barbara broke out into a teary smile of her own and raised her arms, reaching out for a hug before she thought it through. Alfred surprised her yet again, leaning down to accept her embrace. 

"Really, thank you, Alfred. For everything," Barbara murmured into his shoulder before he could pull away again.

He didn't. Instead, he replied, so quietly Barbara almost missed it,

"Anything for one of my favorite granddaughters."

#my writing #mine #christmasriverswrites #barbara gordon #happy birthday babs #babs and alfred #real life might have killed the rest of my writing ambitions and all of my time to participate in fandom but this series lives on! #this is the sloppiest thing I've ever posted. editing? what's that?

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: Fishman Island

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

i know i’ve said it before but i really, really love the entirety of reunion arc. it might be short, but there’s just so much fun and joy packed into it after the extremely fraught and upsetting paramount war. there’s something exhilarating about seeing characters who could barely compete on the world stage two years ago not just come back from nigh-obliteration, but come back so much stronger. this is true about fishman island as a whole as well, really, which is the main reason i enjoy it so much. 

every time we get to see luffy flex his conqueror’s haki absolutely fills me with delight.

brook’s return to the crew is, i think, the most meaningful of all of them. he knew them for, what, a week or two in-universe prior to the separation at sabaody? and in the two-year interim, he becomes basically an extremely successful rock star known worldwide and selling out stadiums. and yet he doesn’t hesitate a moment to drop all of that, to declare before the world that luffy is alive and will be king, because he might have only known the strawhats for a little while but they saved him, and he’s going to see his dream through to the end with them. 

this is possibly my favorite panel in all of one piece. it just makes me so fucking happy to finally see him again! 

i’m a big fan of oda’s choice in not revealing his full design until this moment, so that we get to see him finally appear in all his glory the same moment the rest of the world does, just in time for him to explode back into the public consciousness and fuck up sentoumaru’s whole day. 

i feel like i might be repeating myself a little with regards to reunion arc, but i don’t really care- it just makes me happy. this spread where luffy finally arrives back at the sunny- look how delighted they all are to see him! look how much they missed him! the strawhats are such a family, even though at this point they’ve just spent far more time apart than they’ve ever spent together, and i just adore them so much. 

roger is one of my favorite flashback characters and definitely one of the characters i wonder about the most, and a lot of the thoughts i have about him circle back around to this panel right here. where did he get the hat? why did he give it to shanks? why did he choose to set out to sea who is he- 

i think about kuma a lot. for such a minor character his tragedy is immense, and i would really like to know more about him, why he chose to do the things he did, what his relationship with dragon and the other revolutionaries was like- whether there’s any chance he can still be saved. 

fishman island is absolutely gorgeously drawn. i’d call it absolutely the prettiest setting in the series until wano, and i think that, like wano, it’s clear oda was waiting to draw it for a very long time. the amount of detail and care put into all of the big establishing shots is really breathtaking.

one of the reason i think fishman island is so fun is because the comparatively lower stakes, combined with how much stronger the strawhats are, means they get to be at their most fully chaotic best. they take ryuuguu palace hostage almost completely unintentionally, off-screen, and then immediately start bickering and making ransom demands. i love them so much. 

i love luffy and shirahoshi’s relationship so much- i love how much she trusts him to keep her safe, and i love how easily he does it. i love how he’s brutally honest with her but never really mean and how he encourages her to open up her world and do new things even when it’s scary and dangerous, and lets her take things at her own pace. 

i think the sun pirates’ symbol is probably my favorite jolly roger in the series, both because it’s so well-established in the story, all the way back to arlong park, and because it has so much meaning. the shadow of fisher tiger’s life and death is cast over the entire story long before we even know he existed. 

the symbolic destruction and replacement of the slave brand with the rising sun is so, so cool, and the knowledge of the reasoning behind the symbol also makes it clear long before its confirmed in-story just how empty hody and his crew are. their versions of the symbol are open, with the silhouette of a decapitated human, because they have no brand to cover. 

i care so much about koala and fisher tiger, and the relationship between them as two former slaves and two deeply injured people, and how fisher tiger still manages to muster the strength to be good and gentle to her even after how much humans have hurt him. 

i think it’s really a shame that he never got to see who and what she grew up to be as a direct result of his kindness. i think he would’ve been really proud of her.

i’ve always really liked that otohime isn’t perfect. she’s not as flawless as she first appears to be- gets angry and frustrated and even drunk and shouty when her own people won’t listen to her trying to help them, and it makes her feel so much more real. her patience and pacifism feel much more admirable when we’re also shown how hard she fights to keep them up. she works to be good.

one thing i like in one piece is how much value is placed on just the value of knowledge, of writing, of reading and understanding. it’s visible in how one of the rarest powers in the world is the ability to hear the voice of all things, and in the poneglyphs, too. 

one of my favorite things about luffy is how he becomes a hero by trying not to be one. he doesn’t care about how people view him, and he never has; he really only cares about his friends and loved ones. it’s just that he’s also an incredibly easy person to befriend, and if those friends need help, then he’ll help them, regardless of the cost. most of the island-saving he does is just positive collateral to luffy’s driving desire for the people he cares about to be safe and happy. 

i have always loved strawhat group shots ever since back in east blue when the crew was just three people, and they’ve only gotten more exhilarating as the crew has expanded and full-crew shots have become less common in the new world. it’s always just awesome, seeing them all together and united for a common purpose, whether it’s saving robin in enies lobby or kicking hody’s ass here.

my friend zeph grainjew calls moments like these, where other members of the strawhats deal with a problem so luffy doesn’t have to, ‘honor guard moments’, and i really like them. they’re a display of both the loyalty luffy’s crew has for him and the trust luffy has for them right back.

the thing about shirahoshi is that she’s not a coward. she’s a crybaby and overemotional and extremely skittish (which, for the record, is fully understandable for someone who’s been the subject of constant assassination attempts since she was six), but when it comes down to it, she’s fully ready and willing to let herself get killed by the noah in order to protect her people and her country. she’s so brave.

i sometimes see people complain that the villains of fishman island are flat and boring, as though that’s not the whole point, as though the entire arc isn’t a treatise on the importance of not passing hatred down to children. of course hody and his crew are hollow, they’re the equivalent of malcontented shitty white men who become neo-nazis because it’s easier to blame minorities for their problems. 

luffy’s victory over hody itself is nothing. it’s easy, it’s only barely a challenge because they fight in the open water and luffy is a devil fruit user, and in the larger scheme of the one piece world, hody is nobody to even take notice of, no matter how grand his ambitions might be. what’s important isn’t hody’s defeat itself, it’s that the children of fishman island see luffy come when shirahoshi calls, and that at the end of the arc, they all want straw hats of their very own.  

this might genuinely be a coincidence, but i’ve always liked that fishman island, an arc all about inheritance and what we pass down to our successors, is when luffy first pulls out red hawk, an attack clearly inspired by ace. inheritance can positive or negative- the negative examples in this arc are obvious, but there are positive ones, too. we can also see it with koala and fisher tiger, or with jinbe and both of the legacies he’s shouldered. it’s up to us what we leave behind. 

for all that fishman island isn’t the strongest arc on its own, i do think it has by far one of the strongest endings. it’s an arc all about hurt and loss and how it gets passed down and renewed over generations, and it ends with a return to zero. everything’s not better, but the wound’s been cleaned and bandaged, and now it can finally, finally start to heal. 

and into the new world we go! with skies full of fire and oceans full of lightning, looking just like the entrance to hell- and all our crew can’t wait to get there. 

#the voyage so far #one piece #opmeta #long post #arc: fishman island #arc: reunion #not japanese

[chrysalispen]

pursuit/predation (zenoswol)

This was a lot of fun LMAO I hope you all enjoy reading as much as i did writing it! Commission for @noxi-lumi featuring their WoL, Raziela Undeni <3

NSFW under cut. CW for mildly violent imagery (it is Zenos, after all).

======

Two and a half fulms below the angled opening of his makeshift bolthole, Zenos yae Galvus peered up at the sky with a borrowed face to watch the storm that had raged for two days. The levin-aspected aether in the northern hinterlands of Gyr Abania often lent itself to violent thunderstorms, with static bursts that rendered the escarpment too hazardous to cross. There were waypoints in the mountains to seek shelter from the weather but he had eschewed them, thinking that the fewer encounters to detain (and bore) him, the better. 

He had ever chafed at forced inactivity, but all in all, Zenos reasoned, this was but a temporary setback. Man was a beast bred for hunting, a pursuit predator, and he was nothing if not the pinnacle of that ideal. He would do as his ancient ancestors had done: bide his time and await his next opportunity. Once the storm had spent itself, he could go.

He whistled the opening bars of a parade ground march under his breath - a low and toneless sound like loch winds moaning around the corners of sandstone - and let his eyes fall shut.

Seconds and minutes passed as an age. Bereft of aught else to entertain him, his thoughts turned to his memories of the Eorzeans’ champion: that wild creature of sword and spell. Eikon-slayer. Saviour of the savages, so-called. Epithets overheard from idle barracks' chatter, although Zenos set little stock in the distinction between his own kind and the rest of the world as others did. Garleans bled the same, quailed in fear the same, and died screaming the same as any savage, and she had long since proven her mettle to his satisfaction. She strode the world as he did, towering above her fellows, a beast without peer. 

He still recalled with crystal clarity the day they had met. Then he had barely paid mind to her paltry attempts to halt his advance; countless enemies had attacked him out of fear or desperation to stave off the inevitable, after all. Even so, he had seen neither of those things in their hero's magenta eyes. A grim sort of determination, to be sure; the steely resolve he would expect of one well-versed in the path he walked himself- but no fear. 

There had been another emotion which he still couldn’t quite define, the faintest flicker of something. Curiosity, mayhap. His own exultation in the heat of the fight, mirrored in her mien. A reflection of himself, some alternate path he had never chanced to walk. 

Whatever it was he had seen that day, it had moved him to spare her life. 

And how right he had been to do it. She was worth a score of tribunes on her own-- fivescore, if the truth be told. Had she agreed to his proposal, or had he kept his word rather than indulge his lust for violence in that precise moment… 

How very different things might have been. 

Well, perhaps, he amended. They each had their parts to play. But upon the stage of his imaginings, anything was possible. There he could entertain to his heart’s content his fantasies of his friend returned to him, stronger still for her own tribulations. 

He meant to duel her again and had no doubt she would oblige him.  The prospect of it did not deter him; no, he yearned for the excitement of it. The surge of heat through the veins with each perfectly executed step, air burning the throat and whistling in the lungs, the ever-present specter of death looming over one’s shoulder-- what was violence, in truth, but a dance? Were not those dances with the most precarious, most intricate of steps best enjoyed with a partner of comparable skill? 

In the end that was what he had seen in her: a worthy partner, at long last. Whether to stand at his side or to test her blade against his, he would accept both, but to fight his most precious friend once more, to recapture that kindled flame-- that would be a fine thing.

Oh yes, that would be quite fine indeed.

Remembered delight shuddered its way across the surface of his skin, a delicious and almost delicate frisson that bored its way down his spine to curl and tighten in the pit of his belly. Zenos was no stranger to lust; since his majority plenty of his lessers had used their bodies to curry his favor for some petty reason or other, with naught in their hearts save ambition and fear. Carnal knowledge was both prosaic and vulgar, rutting the sole province of mindless beasts, and it had not taken him long to decide that such matters held little of interest or value to him. 

But this sweet and languorous warmth, like honey in a well-steeped tea-- he realized that he did not mind it so very much. It reminded him of the menagerie, and his last sight of her before he had opened his own throat and bled out into the flowers. Joy, pure and transcendent. 

Yes, he decided; this pleased him.

With a soft grunt Zenos shifted his hips. The motion left him keenly aware of the physical evidence of his arousal against the mild rise below his navel, where it strained against twin cages of cloth and leather for freedom. That spreading ache was not a sensation entirely alien to him, but it did strike him strange how very aware it made him of this borrowed body on such a base level. Heat and hyperawareness punctured the fine invisible layers of his detachment with the pinpoint precision of a sewing needle through linen.

His eyes fell shut once more in a series of slow and lazy blinks: a contented feline drowsing atop a fresh kill. 

He settled one hand over the seam of his breeches where the fabric was pulling taut and palmed himself, running his fingers lazily along the firm ridge his cock had formed beneath the thick weave. If he paid heed only to those slow and teasing strokes, he could convince himself that it was her, touching him so intimately---her hand dragging those sharp and immaculate nails he had glimpsed up and down his length. Scratching their points with calculated ease along the underside of his shaft, applying just enough pressure through the fabric to leave tiny trails of fire in their wake. 

A soft groan rumbled deep in his chest, and Zenos tilted his chin back so as to rest his head against the rock, thighs spreading to accommodate his girth. What would she do, he mused, should she chance to see him caught in the web of his own desire? Driven to distraction by the mere thought of her, the very picture of the animal in full rut which he had so scorned? 

The irony of it would amuse her, he had no doubt about that. Perhaps she might grin at the spectacle. 

Perhaps she would even laugh. He presumed to imagine it, a sight and sound he had yet to experience. A wicked, throaty peal of mirth. The toss of short sable locks, the tilt and swivel of long tufted ears, the stretch of her long and graceful neck as she tossed her chin. Grinned at him, feral and dark, that smile he so loved to see before her inevitable riposte. 

Savagery to rival his own, swathed in leather and crimson.

So thinking, Zenos’ fingers drifted upward of their own accord, straying from the insistent need betwixt his opened thighs to work at the waistband of his breeches instead. 

Lashes fluttered like a courtesan’s fan at the edges of angular cheekbones, suffused with color and dewy with a light band of sweat despite the chill within his shelter. In his mind’s eye, she straddled him as her clever fingers worked the buttons and laces that bound him fast, impatient to pluck her prize from its confines. He fancied he could feel the contained heat of her core against his leg even through the barrier of her smalls, burning as though the sun itself had branded him. 

When he raised himself to pull the offending fabric to his knees, it was she who closed her hand about his cock, grasping him just a touch too snugly. Her thumb stroked tiny circles over the foreskin as the shaft lunged eagerly within the cage of her palm; he could almost hear a hum of low-pitched approval. Each stroke she made eased the smooth, hot skin to retract and expose his crown: deeply flushed, its tip already glistening with precum. Zenos sighed, his borrowed body rocking upward to thrust into her hand, seeking friction to accompany that narrow squeeze. Anything would do, really. Except he needed--

Shallow breaths rasped unsteadily in the close space as he slicked his palm with his own saliva, grimaced, then took himself in hand once more. 

Wet heat and resistance alone nearly undid him. His startled inhalation made a sharp and rasping echo that he barely heard, lost as he was in his fantasy. She had shed her duelist’s garb, laid herself bare to embrace him with long and powerful thighs, like velvet-wrapped steel. He shuddered at the effort it took to control himself, to let gravity carry her down to sheathe him in her depths, to let her move atop him to counter his thrusts with her own: a beautiful beast with lips for kissing and teeth for tearing. She laid both to work upon his throat and his shoulders with each upward snap of his hips-- drank deep of him, and he of her, until his stomach ached from ribcage to groin with unrelieved tension. 

Violence in its own sense, he thought. A dance most intimate, and as real and as pure as the day they had parted.

“Yes, my beast,” he hissed aloud. The sibilant sound of his pleasure rose and reverberated around him, a chorus of empty whispers. “Just so.” His free hand fisted in a handful of loose gravel and his mouth fell slack and the spare limbs and lean angles of this unfamiliar vessel, all wrong, not his, arched like a bowstring. His heels dug into unyielding rock rather than bedsheets for purchase. Her fingers entwined with his, sharp nails grazing his knuckles, tiny cuts to blend with the myriad small scars left by 

(hunting. a pale silver-white web of scar tissue in the center of his left palm - his true vessel's left palm - where his fourteen-year-old self pierced it with a crystal. a parting gift to the first man he ever killed. its tendrils radiate outward between each of his fingers like the cracks made in a pane of shattered glass)

arrows and fletching. She was close; he fancied he could hear the labored rattle of her breathing with each small moan she made. Bracing her weight against his torso and balancing upon his thighs to bounce, sounds only he could hear tumbling from imaginary lips parted and glistening, her cunt flexing about him like a silken vise as she approached the edge of release and swept him along like an incoming tide--

--and the pressure in his groin dropped, at last, and when he spilled, his seed splashing over his frantically moving fist and locked fingers and onto the muscled slope of his exposed belly, it was her name which fell from his lips, not hero or beast but Raziela, Raziela.

Long moments passed before he opened his eyes, chest heaving and fingers numb and loosely wrapped about his spent cock, still pulsing beneath his touch. The syllables of her name seemed to echo in his ears, a mantra to recite to himself until he had locked it into his memory to recall at a whim. 

He waited in patient silence, willing his pulse to slow and his lungs to expand in an unhurried rise and fall. There was a low rumble from the opening of his shelter and after long moments, a flicker of lightning. The storm was passing and with it the levinstrikes. He would be able to move soon.

With movements as slow and languid as a sleepwalker’s, Zenos reached for the belt he had removed upon entering the cave and dug through its pockets until he found something that would serve as a washcloth. His gaze, as he wiped himself down and rearranged drab layers of linen and oilcloth into some semblance of order, was very far away, fixed upon the thinning clouds and the wheel of stars beyond. The moon hung low in the sky, bloated and orange.

I wonder where you are, my friend, he thought. If you have given thought to our meeting at all. 

“Raziela,” he whispered once more, as if testing the sensation of her name on his tongue. In the darkness of the cavern, his eyes glittered like a hungry cat’s.

It was only a matter of time before they were reunited; he would make certain of it. Once he had regained his true form, they would have their dance. A grand reunion upon a great stage, two stars to burn bright, and oh, there would be such a burning. To capture this bliss and relive it with her-- he would give anything in his power, and the very star itself would tremble at their union.

When he emerged from the cavern at last to clear skies and a still night, the moon hid its face behind a passing cloudbank like prey that had caught his scent. And within the bounds of his stolen vessel, Zenos yae Galvus smiled to see it.

#zenos yae galvus #zenos/wol #spicy character studies

[linkspooky]

Frankenstein and the Monster

So there is loads of speculation on a connection between Dabi and Frankenstein’s monster. There are several people who have already commented on it, here, here, and even here. (These are all the ones I could dig up recently). Frankenstein is a novel that can be read in many ways, but I believe the themes of the novel parallels and helps illustrate the relationship between Ujiko, Endeavor and Dabi.

1. Endeavor and Victor Frankenstein

To very briefly touch upon the novel for those who haven’t read it, there are several differences between Boris Karloff’s movie depiction and the original novel. In the novel the creature is intelligent, well spoken, and a reflection of the Doctor Frankenstein himself. To summarize quickly, Frankenstein a very dramatic undergrad student discovers the secret to reviving the dead, uses that to create a monster, then upon seeing how ugly it is flees. The monster grows up in isolation, is spurned by every human he comes across, and then returns to his master and says he will kill everyone the Doctor Loves unless he creates him a mate. Frankenstein destroys the mate, and then the monster destroys his wife to be on the night of their wedding then they chase each other around in the arctic until both of them die. If that wasn’t a sufficient enough summary, this crash course video is a good writeup of the book and it’s themes. 

Frankenstein has a lot to say about science and treading in god’s domain, but it’s also written by a woman who was a teenager at the time (Mary Shelley) who existed in a soical circle of adult men who were much older than her. Just as much as it’s a novel about mad science gone wrong, there are strong themes of feminism, parenthood, and abuse intertwined in the novel. 

Another popular reading is to interpret “Frankenstein” autobigraophically, a reading that was encouraged via 1970s feminist criticism of the novel. Earlier readings along those lines centered Frankenstein as a tale of monstrous birth and look to Mary Shelley’s own experiences with birth, which were pretty terrible.

Mary Shelley’s mother died when giving birth to her, and Mary and Shelley’s own first child, a daughter, died when she was just a few weeks old. And in her journal Mary recounted an incredibly sad dream about this daughter. “Dream that my little baby came to life again; that it had only been cold and that we rubbed it before the fire and lived.”  [Crash Course: Frankenstein]

This is just some background information to add context to your reading. Percey Shelley first met Mary when she was 14, and eloped with her when she was 16 and already pregnant with his child (he was around 24 at the time). Not only that but Percey was married at the time when he eloped with Mary, and his wirst wife did not take it well. 

Harriet (Westbrook) Shelley was Percy Shelley's first wife. While he was still married to her, he ran off with Mary Shelley, leaving Harriet pregnant and alone with their first child. She committed suicide on November 9, 1816 by drowning herself in Serpentine. [x]

As I said these details are all to add context to Mary Shelley’s life while she was writing Frankenstein. A book in which most of the female characters are severely mistreated and harmed. 

There are some pretty feminist critiques to Frankenstein. For instance, the novel clearly shows what harm comes to women (and family and relationships) when men pursue single-minded goals. In fact thanks to Victor’s lack of work life balance pretty much all of the women in this novel die. Victor’s creation of the monster leads to the hanging of the servant Justine the murder of Victor’s bride Elizabeth on their wedding night. [Crash Course: Frankenstein]

To put it as frankly as possible (Haha, get it because frankenstein) there are several points in the novel in which both Victor and Frankenstein act like fuckboys. 

You could easily read the story as one of male entitlement. Victor in the first place, deliberately refers to his bride to be Elizabeth as a possession and says it as a term of affection. 

And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth as mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her I received as made to a possession of my own. We called each other familiarly by the name of cousin. No word, no expression could body forth the kind of relation in which she stood to me—my more than sister, since till death she was to be mine only.

His actions towards Elizabeth in the novel are also, extremely neglectful. Elizabeth spends the novel passively waiting for him to return and marry her, but Victor has a habit of disappearing from her life for long periods at a time with no contact at all in pursuit of his endeavors. (Get it because I’m comparing Victor to Endeavor). 

Elizabeth is someone he feels entitled to own, and entitled to her love (he literally thinks his parents gave him to her) and yet Victor never takes responsibility for Elizabeth and her feelings too wrapped up in his own. When Elizabeth is grieving for the losses of her family, Victor has a tendency to leave her alone to go off to sulk on his own. Elizabeth even pleads multiple times for Victor to come home, to offer some support for the rest of the family with his mere presence and Victor delays these returns home as long as possible. 

“Get well—and return to us. You will find a happy, cheerful home and friends who love you dearly. Your father’s health is vigorous, and he asks but to see you, but to be assured that you are well; and not a care will ever cloud his benevolent countenance.

This treatment also extends to the rest of Victor’s family, who are people he seriously neglects throughout the novel, and also people who are the direct sufferers of the consequences of his actions. His youngest brother is killed, the maid is framed for the murder, Elizabeth dies on the wedding night, Clerval his closest friend is killed, and his father dies soon afterwards of old age / implied grief. 

The monster who Victor creates is also a reflection of him. After knowing the suffering it is to be created as a creature with no family, and no place of belonging he then instructs Victor to make him a woman. A woman that will have no choice but to love him because they will be the only two alone in the world. The monster, also feels entitled to feminine love because he is lonely, with no thought to whether or not the second monster might have feelings, opinions or her own, or might not even like him. 

“You must create a female for me, with whom I can live in the interchange of those sympathies necessary for my being.  This you alone can do; and I demand it of you as a right which you must not refuse.” 

The recurring theme is this: a sense of male entitlement, without a sense of responsibility. What do I mean by Male Entitlement? 

Male entitlement is a product of traditional societal norms. It is cultivated in men as they join a society which usually favors them over the other genders in their careers, relationships, character-standing, and more.   There’s more on it here, and the role of male entitlement in abuse. 

Male entitlement is an attitude where men believe they are entitled to power over others, and/ or ownership of the women and children in their lives. Victor calls Elizabeth a possession given to him, and neglects her throughout most of the book. The monster believes he deserves to have a woman to love him. It’s not masculinity. Masculinity is just masculinity. It’s the belief that they are entitled to power or ownership over others simply because they are men born in a society that favors men. Male entitlement can show up in say, a father who believes he is entitled to the love of his children despite never doing any of the actual work of childrearing and pushing it all on the mother. Believing they deserved to be loved simply for being a father, while being absolutely absent for their lives. GUESS WHAT HAPPENS IN FRANKENSTEIN. 

So, a lot of people interpret Frankenstein as a story of ambition gone wrong, but that interpretation feels like it’s missing something if you don’t include the feminist angle. Frankenstein when doing his mad scientist undergrad bit speculates how he would be a father of a new species. It is specifically, fatherhood accomplished without a mother. That this new species would owe him love. 

A new species would bless me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to me. 

An undeniable part of Victor’s motivation is that as the sole creator the child would owe him all of their love. I mean to once again connect this to abuse narratives how many real life parents believe their children have to love them no matter how poorly they treat them? 

No father could claim the gratitude of his child so completely as I should deserve theirs. 

Victor in the novel wants not only fatherhood, but also motherhood. He wants to create life which in victorian society at the time is the role of the woman. And yet at the same time, he doesn’t want to do any of the actual work of motherhood and the roles typically described to women. 

We can read the novel as an exploration of what happens when men fear, distrust, or devalue women so much that they attempt to reeproduce without them. In some ways Victor is trying to bypass the feminine altogether. He’s creating life without recourse to egg or womb.  [Crash Course: Frankenstein] 

Victor creates, and then proceeds to take no responsibility for his creation. He abandons the child for the most shallow of reasons (because it was ugly and looked scary), then leaves a sentient, thinking creature with no idea who it was, or why it was alive in the middle of the mountains hoping it starves to death on his own so he doesn’t have to deal with it. 

but now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart. Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I rushed out of the room and continued a long time traversing my bed-chamber.

Victor is the creatures parent, but takes no responsibility as a parent for raising the creature. In fact the child is punished when they are still an innocent, just for not turning out the way their creator intended. 

Frankenstein is a novel which portrays consistently men who aspire to greatness as described in their society (scientific invention, and in the framing device arctic exploration) but who consistently fail everyone in their lives at the most basic levels. In other words as Lizzo said, “Why men great, till they gotta be great.” 

This is where the fire comes in. The original post talks about dichotomy of fire as something that both helps and harms. Fire is a symbol in this book that can be read two different ways, and I think special context should be given to the subtitle of the story. “The Modern Prometheus”, a story which in classical times is a story of hubris where Prometheus steals fire from the heavens and is punished for it. Hubris in the classical greek sense means that a human acting like they know better than the gods. However, the story has a different interpretation in the Romantic / Enlightenment era where Prometheus is seen as a heroic figure stealing fire away from the gods to give knowledge to mankind. 

Fire in the book represents both. Victor is someone who has hubris, he assumes he’s a father who deserves the love of a child and sole responsbility for the creation of another being (effectively making him god), but abandons the creature literally five minutes after finishing him and makes no real attempt to take any effort in raising what is effectively his child. It’s also a story about Victor having ambitions to be great, and to do what no man has done before him. I don’t think the story emphasizes that ambitions are bad, but rather the dual nature of ambition as something like fire, something that can either warm or harm. 

He came upon a fire “which had been left” by humans (Vol. II, Ch. III), so a human tool left in nature. He was “overcome with delight” and joy, but touching it brought him pain. “How strange, [he thinks], that the same cause could produce such opposite effects!” He has learned the dichotomy of flame – to save and to hurt. [x]

Okay, now that we’re done witht hat extremely long essay on an english novel let’s actually talk about the manga where a goth stuck in his rebellious teenage phase tries to light his dad on fire. 

I’m going to be comparing the novel to Dabi and Endeavor in two aspects. 

Male entitlement, believing you deserve the love of a child without acting responsibly as a father. 

Fire, ambition as something that both helps and burns. 

Victor and Endeavor both are characters that decide to create children for very self serving reasons, and treat their families for the majority of their lives as tools to their own ambition. Endeavor wants a child that will carry out his ambitions for him, that he can live vicariously through. It’s not even an interpretation it’s directly stated text. 

Endeavor’s mad science also literally has him treat the woman in his life as tools to use for his own amibition. He fores a marriage on a woman to use her as an unwilling accessory to his eugenics project. 

It is not specifically a story of ambition got wrong, it’s also a story of neglect and abuse of all the women in his life. Endeavor’s ambitions all center around personal greatness for him. Shoto will prove his worth as a hero, as a mentor to him, as a great father. The fact that his motives are entirely selfish, (Endeavor is not focused on being the best hero he can be, but rather his own desire to be the strongest) is something that has an affect on his family and children. 

Fuyumi, Touya, and Natsuo are literally afterthoughts to Endeavor despite being just as much his children as Shoto. He literally only thinks of Rei in the context of “I needed her to give me a family.” Not only that but he’s also an extremely bad father to the one child that he does take an active role in trying to parent, acting extremely controlling towards Shoto and getting extremely angry whenever Shoto did anything that was outside of Endeavor’s wishes for Shoto to fulfill his ambitions. 

Endeavor just like Victor, inspires to greatness as a man and wants the signifiers of that as held up by society, accomplishment (Endeavor wants to be the number one rank even though he technically has far more resolved cases than All Might and the rank is literally just a number), family, and recognition despite having done none of the work. Once again why men great till they gotta be great. At the start of his arc, Endeavor feels entitled to Shoto’s love and obedience, and a role in his life, despite the fact that he’s hideously abused him for most of his life. 

Endeavor like Victor, also abandons several children for failing to meet his expectations. 

Part of Natsuo’s problem with Endeavor has exactly to do this sense of entitlement, Endeavor practically abandons his kids until they’re in their  early twenties to the point where he wasn’t involved in their lives at all (and also separated them from their mother). Remember another point of the book is that Victor wants sole parenthood, to create life without involvement of a woman. 

Endeavor does the exact same thing. He separates the children from their mother. Then while he is the only parent left in the household and effectively responsible for all of his children, he neglects most of them and completely fails to raise them. 

It’s implied besides trying to teach Shoto to use his quirk, he’s literally pushed all of the housework, and actual parenting you know, labor that is involved in raising a child onto Fuyumi. Fuyumi has cooked most of Shoto’s meals, it’s Fuyumi who attends his school conference in the novels. Endeavor has effectively committed the same crime as Victor, creating life and then running away from it by failing to act in any way as the father to his own children. His sense of entitlement shows in his actions and the way he treats the people around him in his life, he uses them for his own ambitions and they get burned. 

Endeavor is someone who has used all of the women in his life for his ambitions. Think Fuyumi, she grew up desperately wanting a family while having effectively no father and all contact cut off from her mother, and also had to take care of household chores and responsibility for both of her younger brothers. Think Rei, who has literally been institutionalized for ten years, and trauma from her experiences that haunts her to this day. Natsuo is someone who has no father, almost no relationship with his younger brother, and is still mourning his other dead brother. Shoto evens tates directly, he views Endeavor as someone to learn how to use his quirk from but hasn’t viewed him once as a father. Endeavor’s never been present as a father in Shoto’s life, despite controlling most of it and giving him all of the attention. He had ambition to pass his quirk from father to son, but never actually acted as a father. 

Endeavor’s treatment of his family, and his reflection for his past actions is also shown using this metaphor for fire. All Might’s ambition to become the strongest hero for the sake of a more peaceful society, is also represented by fire. Especially a flame that he passes from one person to the next, that Nana passed to him, and he passed to Deku.  

Endeavor is almost always associated with the more violent aspect of fire, when he thinks of the harm he’s done to his family it’s always juxtaposed to the fire on his face. 

(The right side fire, the left side Rei’s suffering face.)

Whereas the more gentle associations with fire are almost made with Shoto. Once again the novel of Frankenstein doesn’t decry ambition, it merely explores the consequences of ambitions that were extremely self-interested from the start. Endeavor only wanted to be strong for his own sake. Shoto who wanted to become a hero like All Might who would never make his mother cry, and All Might who wanted to create a safer society are people with strong ambitions that are associated with gentler flames. 

2. Dabi and Frankenstein’s Monster

Sins of the Father or Sins of the Fathers derives from biblical references primarily in the books Exodus, Deuteronomy, and Numbers to the sins or iniquities of one generation passing to another. Basically what it means is its a narrative trope where children are punished or suffer consequences for the action of their fathers. It can also mean that children inevitably reflect what their fathers have done to them, and even resemble their fathers. 

Everything the monster does is a reflection of Frankentstein’s actions. Everything Dabi does is both a consequence and a reflection of Endeavor’s actions. They are both written as sons to be narrative foils to their creator. If anything Dabi is even more of a frankenstein’s monster than Shoto, because a key element to the narrative is that Frankenstein was abandoned for not being perfect according to his creator’s wishes, he was punished for a defect. 

Touya just like frankenstein is a defective creation. One who suffers all of the consequences for what are his father’s sins. Endeavor deliberately took risks with his eugenics experiment that the child might have a quirk not compatible with their body, but it’s the child and not the parent who suffers all of the consequences. Toya literally died - whether he faked his death or not has yet to be revealed but he lost his home and family at a young age, spent most of his life homeless, and has to continually make use of a quirk that burns his entire body. Whether he wants them or not, his father’s sins are pushed onto Dabi. 

The flame that Endeavor is so keen on passing to his children, has literally permanently disabled Dabi, and will negatively effect him for the rest of his life. Consequences that Endeavor ought to suffer are passed onto Dabi instead. Dabi is burned by Endeavor’s actions towards him. 

This is once again something deliberately brought up by the book Frankenstein. The doctor creates life, takes absolutely no responsibility and leaves his creature to starve to death in the wilderness, and then the first time they meet again calls upon his creation to die. 

“I expected this reception,” said the dæmon. “All men hate the wretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You purpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life?

The decision to create life irresponsibly was Victor’s, but the  person who suffers the brunt end of the consequences is not Victor, but rather the creature itself who just like Dabi has no home, and is constistently hurt by the environment around him. 

Dabi is also a symbol of the worst possible aspects of Endeavor’s ambitions. 

To compare Victor and the monster briefly. Victor

Has family / friends 

Home / Money / Wealth

Arrogant / Well Educated 

Self-Destructive 

A tool

The Monster

Abandoned

Ignorant (at first)

Homeless

A tool, but a more sympathetic one.

As you can see they are societally complete opposites. This can be said for Endeavor as well, he still gets to keep his family, his place in society despite what he’s done, he’s wealthy, succesful and well-liked in his community. Dabi is permanently disabled because of something his father did, is legally dead, homeless, separated from his family, and is a villain. 

While they are completely opposite in status, the monster and Victor are eerily similiar. They are both highly intelligent people who carry a strong ambition within them. The Monster basically learns speech, and reading all on his own, and as soon as he can be becomes as well-read as possible. 

Fortunately the books were written in the language, the elements of which I had acquired at the cottage; they consisted of Paradise Lost, a volume of Plutarch’s Lives, and the Sorrows of Werter. The possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I now continually studied and exercised my mind upon these histories, whilst my friends were employed in their ordinary occupations.

The monster also shares several of his father’s sin. He repeats the sins that have been done on to him, in the name of vengeance. Frankenstein’s claim is that he was hurt when he was still an innocent, punished before he had done anything wrong, but he also does the exact same thing to VIctor’s youngest brother killing him when he was just a child. 

Victor’s worst sin by far is selfish entitlement, forgetting to consider the feelings of his creation. Yet, the monster knowing how much he suffered by just being created in a world where there’s no one else like him also demands Victor create another creature. This is out of his own personal sense of entitlement, he believes he’s entitled to have someone love him, and if he had this he would be a good person again. 

He believes quite literally he deserves an Eve to share his loneliness in. His own personal feelings of grief and hurt matter more than those of: one the people he kills, and two a potential woman who would be created only to love him. 

But it was all a dream; no Eve soothed my sorrows nor shared my thoughts; I was alone. I remembered Adam’s supplication to his Creator. But where was mine? He had abandoned me, and in the bitterness of my heart I cursed him.

The monster also feels entitled to punish Frankenstein, but in this reccuring sins of the fathers he punishes people who are completely innocent of the crime that Frankenstein did to him and have nothing to do with his creation, just to get back at Frankenstein. Including, an innocent boy, a maid who he framed for murder, Frankenstein’s friend, and also Elizabeth. 

Dabi inevitably reflects his father and the environment he was raised in, and resembles him. Dabi who was raised by a quirk supremacist and thrown out because his quirk wasn’t good enough, kills people he doesn’t find worthy. Dabi’s methods are almost entirely based around his his individual strength because he was raised to believe that was the only good part of him. The same way Dabi was thrown out like burnable trash for failing to live up to his standards, Dabi will enact harsh vigilante justice and kill minor crimminals and heroes who fail to live up to his justice. 

Just like for the monster’s actions in punishing Victor, Dabi is called to consider the feelings of family’s of the people he kills. He is also punishing people completely unrelated to what happened to him, in his efforts to hold his father accountable. 

Dabi reflects his father, and quirk society the same things that burned him. He continually believes he has to be the strongest individually, accomplish everything on his own, and spurn others around him. Even those who try to make genuine connections with him like the league of villains. Dabi believes that the world has to be changed with the strength of ambitions of a single person, and his ambitions are far more important than the sense of family within the league. 

Dabi effectively distances himself from two families, the found family of the league, and also his original biological family. Think about how much it might save Natsuo to lean that his brother is still alive. Shoto at least, doesn’t want to see his father roasted alive on live television. 

Dabi’s ambitions are as self destructive as his fathers, as he only knows how to fight by completely burning his body up. He harms himself over and over again by using his quirk to try to change things. 

3. Endeavor and Ujiko

The book ultimately poses the question who is responsible for the actions of the monster, Frankenstein or the Monster itself. However, I think an element missed in a lot of analysis is that the mosnter accepts that most of what he has done is wrong, he just wants people to be held equally accountable for their actions. 

“You, who call Frankenstein your friend, seem to have a knowledge of my crimes and his misfortunes. But in the detail which he gave you of them he could not sum up the hours and months of misery which I endured wasting in impotent passions. For while I destroyed his hopes, I did not satisfy my own desires. They were for ever ardent and craving; still I desired love and fellowship, and I was still spurned. Was there no injustice in this? Am I to be thought the only criminal, when all humankind sinned against me? Why do you not hate Felix, who drove his friend from his door with contumely? Why do you not execrate the rustic who sought to destroy the saviour of his child? 

The monster’s problem is not that he shouldn’t be held accountable for his actions, but rather that he’s the only one whose ever held accountable for his actions. The Monster also spends most of the narrative being treated as a monster, whereas Frankenstein faces no real consequences for what he’s done from the people around him, never loses his standing in society, never is cast out for his wrongs. Frankenstein continually avoids any and all responsibility towards the monster up until his death, and only takes responsibility in violently trying to kill his creation. 

There are also oppurtunities for Frankenstein to take responsibility, which he chooses not to do anything. An innocent maid is about to be executed for a crime that Frankenstein knows she did not commit, and instead of trying to help her by explaining to everyone his creation of the creature, and also that the creature is likely responsible for the murder he says nothing. While not responsible for the women’s death, he is culpable in that he could have taken action to save her but didn’t. 

Franketnstein’s actions are again and again always to run away from the monster and avoid responsibility. From the beginning he runs away from the monster due to it simply being ugly. Both the monster (and also Toya) were punished when they were innocent children who had not committed any kind of crime, by the person who was responsible for raising them, educating them, and giving them everything they needed to become happy adults. 

“Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.”

While Frankenstein and the Monster both entitled, their reasons for entitlement come from entirely different places. Frankenstein’s comes from his own arrogance, believing that he’s destined to do great things, and be a man of status and accomplishment. Why men great till they gotta be great. 

The monster believes he’s entitled to a family, because his father abandoned him, and he’s been homeless most of his life. The monster is violent, but only after he’s endured violence from people several times over. The monster is ultimately a victim of circumstance, and Frankenstein is the one who created that circumstance. 

Considering Frankenstein and the monster are foils, there’s a reason that Frankenstein fears and abhors the monster before it’s even awake. It’s because the monster reflects the ugliness of his own actions. The ugliness in himself that he is completely unable to face. He is a negative character foil in a character sense, and a shadow created by Frankenstein’s actions. 

The monster shows Victor what he is, selfish, entitled, and violent. Victor can’t ever confront the monster, because he can never confront those flaws within himself. 

Dabi is a reflection of Endeavor’s violent, abusive nature. He is also the direct consequence of all of Endeavor’s actions. So the question is, has Endeavor confronted the monstrous side of his actions? The answer is most likely no, because despite doing things as bad as any villain in the story he still views himself as the hero.

Shoto even tells us directly. Endeavor the hero and Endeavor the father are so different they’re almost like two different people. Endeavor continuing to be a hero on the television and coming home to his family is not taking repsonsibility for his actions, not truly, because he still hasn’t accepted the worst of what he’s done. 

In the narrative Endeavor currently feels guilt, and also a desire to atone but we’re also told again and again that atoning means taking responsibility and carrying everything. No building a house where his family doesn’t have to be around him and taking steps to distance himself isn’t taking full resposnibility because Dabi is still running around. Dabi is the embodiment of the absolute worst of Endeavor’s actions, the toxic environment that literally killed Toya, burned Shoto, and hospitalized Rei. I would say Endeavor still hans’t seen the worst of his actions because he still views himself as the hero, just the hero who has made mistakes. We’re shown this in foiling, the same way Fankenstein rejects the monster, Endeavor doesn’t recognize Dabi even though he is literally his own son. 

The strongest evidence of this is Endeavor and Ujiko’s foiling. They are two characters who have a lot in common, they both used children as experiments in their attempts to create stronger quirks including their own family members (Ujiko experimented on his own nephew). 

They’re both men of incredible wealth and status in society, who have deliberately used their status to cover up their cimes. Endeavor used his status to hospitalize his wife for years, he used his status to marry her in the first place, Ujiko uses all of his money and resources to find people to experiment on, and deliberately takes advantage of people in need by using his orphanage and hospitals to farm for materials to make his Nomus with. 

They’re both motivated by their own personal ambitions. They also feel entitled, Ujiko’s specific issue is that the scientific community failed to give him the respect and funding for his research that he thought he was owed. 

The source of Endeavor’s pain is that no matter how hard he works he’ll never become the strongest. The source of Ujiko’s pain is that nobody recognizes his work and achievements in his scientific community. They both want their hard work to turn into achievement, for their efforts to pay off, which again is not a bad thing until they get angry when they’re not given what they think they’re owed. 

Ujiko and Endeavor both become so desperate to accomplish their ambitions that they manipulate people to become tools to fulfill their ambitions for them. Shoto has to carry on his legacy, and learn to use his flame side like Endeavor always wanted. They both create children that they are technically the parent of, but don’t act as fathers. Endeavor is responsible for Fuyumi, Natsuo, Touya, and Todoroki but fails to live up to that responsibility. Ujiko creates the Nomu, which just like the monster in Frankenstein are new life created from the corpses of other people, and then just uses them and disposes them as tools. 

Ujiko even utters a line that is incredibly similiar to Endeavor in the regards to the way they treat Shigaraki and Shoto. 

However how does Endeavor react to Ujiko? Does he understand the harm that he’s done in a new light? No, he falls back on his hero narrative. I am the hero, and Ujiko is the utlimate evil. 

Endeavor so far, like Frankenstein, fails to truly confront the monster. Even when he finally realizes the destructive nature of his desire to be stronger than anyone else when he fights the Nomu, his response is to burn it alive. What is Endeavor’s response? To play hero, and defeat a villain. 

The thing about jungian shadow arcs is that you don’t destroy your shadow, you reintegrated it.  Endeavor can’t symbolically murder his past self because that won’t make his past actions go away, he can only accept them. The question now is: will he do the same thing to Dabi? 

When confronted with who Dabi is and his role in creating Dabi, what will Endeavor’s choice be? Is he going to play the hero, and destroy the villain he sees in front of him. The same way he did with the Nomu, the same way he did with Ujiko, the same way he’s trying to do with Shigaraki (who is, you know a heavy parallel to his own son Toya, and another abused child).

Will Endeavor act as a hero, or the remorseful father he also is? That choice is utlimately what Endeavor’s entire character is written around, does he want to finally be a father or does he want to keep being endeavor the hero? What is more important to him his own ambitions as a hero, or the people he’s harmed? 

Just like Victor, Endeavor’s entire arc revolves around Dabi. He is a hero directly responsible for the creation of a villain. Dabi would not exist if it were not for Endeavor’s direct actions. Not only that but his future will be determined by how he chooses to interact with Dabi once he knows the truth. Endeavor cannot truly take responsibility until he takes responsibility for Dabi.

#mha meta #mha dabi #dabi is touya #dabi #enji todoroki #endeavor #frankenstein #mary shelley's frankenstein #Sometimes you gotta wake up in the morning and decide to spend your entire day writing an incredibly long essay about classic literature

[runnfromtheak]

Darling!!!!!!!!!! I dare yo to write an alternate Deathly Hallows where Draco yeets the Elder Wand.

Challenge accepted. Here’s my first venture into HP fanfiction, I suppose. :)

“HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!”

 There’s something to be said about shock.

Something to be said about going into shock, but he can’t be bothered to care at this moment. The words slip from his grasp, falling aside as worthless details and half grasped concepts.

They aren’t real, nothing feels real, because as much as he’s hated Harry Potter, as deeply as he’s despised him, he’s never dreamt of his corpse. Not once, not even at his darkest, not even with his Aunt Bella egging him on as the muggles screamed…

 He’s never wished Potter dead, even if he hated himself for it.

 He freezes as the Weasley girl screams, as her father grabs her tight as he can to hold her back from the Death Eater’s loud cheers. Draco can see him – the object of his envy and hatred and irritation and complete and utter loathing – in the Half-breed’s arms, draped haphazardly like a delicate princess. It almost looks like he’s sleeping, like this is all some sick joke, and the stupid prat’s Chosen One powers are about to kick in at any moment.

 But then Draco looks at Granger and Weasley, looks at the shock in their eyes, the broken and haunted way the tears gather in their eyes, and he knows this is real. This isn’t school years, where his worst secret is the humiliation lingering after Potter’s rejection in first year, where his biggest concern is winning the Quidditch game just to show Potter up or the House Cup to give the finger to Dumbledore.

This is real, and it’s terrifying, terrifying in a way he’d barely tasted in sixth year, half-mad with desperation and the burden of that brand on his arm, the dark ink marking him as evil and wrong.

 (“Draco, years ago, I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you.”)

 He hadn’t let the old man help him, had watched Severus Snape kill him, and he feels a pang for the optimistic fool doomed to die. He never set out to make the wrong choices, but he did anyways. There were no choices, there had been honor, and duty, and loyalty, but never a choice.

 (What’s the right choice when every action leads to a death? When inaction leads to death? What is the right choice when your father bartered away your ability to make them for the loyalty of a madman drunk on power?)

 Malfoys don’t have choices, they have responsibilities.

 He’d been damned from the start.

 “SILENCE!”

 No one speaks, no one breathes, not even Draco. His eyes linger on Potter, blood-spattered and dirty, as if he’d tumbled through dirt before ‘Avada Kedavra’ struck. He wonders if it hurt, if Potter had been afraid.

Potter’s a Gryffindor, so he doubts it – what they lacked in subtlety and intelligence they made up for in fool-hardy bravery.

 (And isn’t that the conundrum Draco’s struggled with, surrounded by the Dark Lord’s suffocating presence, the toxic feeling lingering in Malfoy Manor – is it better to be a brilliant coward, or a brave fool? – Potter’s corpse doesn’t offer any answers)

 “Why didn’t you tell her? Bellatrix? You knew it was me. You didn’t say anything.”

 He’s never been ready for Potter’s death, even when the opportunity arose not once but twice – first at the hands of his family, second at the hands of his friends – he’d been so stupidly unprepared that he’d saved him, lied for him, even after the bathroom and all the bad blood accumulated over years of bitterness, years of envy and what he wishes he could call hatred.

 He’d never had a choice, but he let himself have one.

 His family asked him to save them, and he chose Potter, for reasons neither of them understand. ‘Understood,’ he corrects, ignoring the blathering of the Dark Lord as he glides across his field of destruction and blood, ‘Neither of us understood.’ Because it’s past tense now – hate is now hated, envy is now envied – and he still doesn’t know how to feel, even as he knows how he should feel.

Malfoys are calm, collected. Malfoys are perfect, in composure as well as pedigree. Malfoys don’t cower, nor do they fight.

As the snake strikes in the cover of tall grass, Malfoys strike in the dark, underhanded methods and crafty exchanges (money makes the bloody world spin, and the Malfoys have more money than they have emotion).

 He should be happy, should be smug, perhaps, over the death of the Boy Who Lived. The other Death Eaters are – ecstatic, actually – but he’s not the same as them, even if it would be easier for his entire family if he were. Potter is the Boy Who Lived, and he’s the fool unwilling to see him dead – the boy who had no choice – stuck on the subtle tug of his gut as Potter’s heart beats, as his green eyes glimmer.

 Draco hates himself for noticing that too, for not being what he should be for his family.

 “Draco, come.”

 His mother beckons him, lips pulled tight in a twisted mockery even he couldn’t call a grin. It’s forced, so disgustingly forced that he could scream, rage the way the Weasley girl tries to. Malfoys are calm, Malfoys are collected, and the look in his mother’s eyes – the whimper half released from his father’s throat – is anything but.

 Draco walks from the right side numbly, staring at Potter’s corpse even as the Dark Lord embraces him.

 He shivers in revulsion, sick as the man his family has served faithfully for so long embraces him as family. He’s stiff, goosebumps trailed down his pale – damn near translucent – flesh feels the Dark Lord’s words.

 Draco is released and his mother embraces him next, but his eyes still linger on the corpse that should not be, the last person he’d ever thought would die – even though Potter was the only non-muggle the Dark Lord truly wanted to die.

 No one calls him back, not that he expects them to, but he’s (mildly) disappointed all the same.

 He wonders if Potter would have attempted it, self-righteous in his own beliefs that Draco couldn’t be truly evil, truly wrong, if he’d defied the Dark Lord to let him live. He probably would have, might have called him a git or pathetic, and it’s nearly enough to make Draco laugh.

 How far he’s fallen, to crave the predictability and reliability in banter with his greatest rival. That mutual irritation… They got under each other’s skin in ways no one else could, even if Draco hadn’t killed anyone.

 “…Longbottom.”

 He ignores his surroundings, ignores his mother’s soft attempts to coax him out of his self-imposed silence, ignores his father’s whimpering and the ashen appearance that’s such a far cry from before…

 Before life became real, and actions had consequences, and his choices led to death and pain for people who didn’t deserve it.

 Somewhere between Albus Dumbledore’s death and Potter’s, he’d changed.

 Life used to be so clear…

 But his father had been abandoned to Azkaban, cast aside in his own home for the Dark Lord’s acceptance. His mother had suffered – quietly, in ways those who didn’t know her wouldn’t see – in ways she’d never suffered before. And Draco… Draco…

 “…You knew it was me. You didn’t say anything.”

 He doesn’t know himself anymore.

 “Draco,” his father murmurs, and he pulls back, tearing his gaze off Potter for the first time since Voldemort’s loud declaration set in this cold, this numbness, settling in his limbs as if it was meant to be there.

 His mother strokes his hair, nearly as tense as he is.

 His father… looks pathetic. His once luminous blonde locks are stiff and dirty, as worn down and decayed as the rest of him. He’s lost weight, enough for his cheeks to appear sullen and sunken in, enough for his perfectly tailored robes to hang off him in ways not befitting a Malfoy.

 He shoots his father a glare, furious at the tears he can feel prickling at the corners of his eyes.

 “What?” He demands, ignoring Longbottom’s nervous words, the exaggerated gestures he makes as he speaks, drawing the crowds of right and wrong’s attention.

 “We must leave, Draco,” Narcissa interjects, eyes cold and empty. There’s a kindness in her touch that her perfect face can’t convey. “Now.”

 But he shoves her away, because his eyes are back on Potter – infuriatingly, stupidly, fixated on the boy turned man he couldn’t hate no matter how desperately he wanted to. Steady breath, in and out.

 “…a boy who made all the wrong choices…”

 He feels his mother eyes linger, demanding answers he can’t give, perhaps is unwilling to give.

 Longbottom’s shouting now, speaking of sacrifice and how Harry Potter’s stupid heart had beat and bled for them all – and honestly, after all the years and pain and suffering, how could they not already know that? How could they question that, when he only hated those who aligned themselves with pain, with hatred and wrong choices.

 Unexplainably, there’s a twitch.

 Corpses don’t twitch, and it’s small enough for Draco to nearly brush off, to dismiss it as a fight of fancy for his not-hated rival, but he knows Potter. Knows Potter far more than he likes admitting, and he sees his right hand – the same hand he extends towards the snitch every match with that infuriating grin – twitch again.

Potter can’t sit still, never has been able to…

 And Draco knows the truth before Longbottom draws the sword of Godric Gryffindor from the dirtied Sorting Hat, knows it as Voldemort laughs.

 “Harry’s heart did beat for us! For all of us! And it’s not over!”

 Harry Potter grunts, louder than the rapid tempo of Draco’s heart, and he flings himself from the Half-Giant’s arms to the cold stone floor of the half-destroyed courtyard.

 The Dark Lord turns, smug grin turning as the gasps reach his ears…

 Potter’s wild-eyed, hands grasping for a wand that evidently wasn’t there, still glaring at Voldemort defiantly.

 Draco Malfoy is a boy who’s never had a choice, burdened by his family’s legacy, by the weight of expectations and tradition and self-importance piled on by his father. He’s always followed his father’s rules, his father’s ambitions…

 He’s been perfect, as close as he could get.

He’s been obedient, even as it tore his soul and mind apart.

He’s been cool, even as screams scratch at his throat, demanding to be released.

 But when the Dark Lord turns, when he frowns and his eyes narrow into dark slits, Draco makes another choice, ripping his arm from his mother’s grasp.

 “Draco—” His father tries, but he’s already gone.

 “…all the wrong choices…”

 “Potter!” He shouts, ripping the wand straight from Voldemort’s bony fingers. Potter’s emerald eyes – still glimmering, Draco can’t help but notice – snap onto him, hardened and suspicious, until they notice the wand he holds in a death grip.

 He tosses the wand, ignoring Voldemort’s angry shout for another wand, and Potter catches it, looking alive and confident…

 “CONFRINGO!”

 Nagini hisses, sent flying towards the Death Eater’s as Voldemort yells again, sending waves of flames towards Potter and – fuck – him. They both jump over rubble, ducking between pillars as they run.

 “If we die,” Draco hisses, dodging another furious attack from Voldemort, “I will kill you again, Potter.”

 Potter sends him a curious look, one that makes him catch his breath.

 “If we die,” He echoes, lips curling upwards. “Tom won’t succeed, not this time.”

 Draco blinks, nearly struck by another jet of flames he doesn’t notice.

 “Who the bloody hell is Tom?”

#harry potter #draco x harry #drarry #deathly hallows #battle of hogwarts #au #based on that one deleted scene #you know which one #Malfoy saying Pottah! is practically a kink #fanfic #my writing #i might continue this #maybe #possibly #I fell into this ship #I fell into it hard #draco malfoy redemption #draco deserved better

[chuuyasnumber1simp]

Born of Lies, but Learning to Love

Part 1. Chuuya x fem reader.

part two     part three 

Summary: Y/N didn’t know where she came from. She never did. She was given one mission in life, one purpose. She knew not her own thoughts, her own ambitions, not even her own feelings. All she knew was the feeling of the sticky red liquid staining her hands, and the way a knife felt in her fingers.

Ability:  Falsum Quod Visus (False Sight)- Can manipulate what someone see’s by manipulating what the brain deciphers from the signals the eyes send. When used to the full extent, she can drive people mad. The person under the effect of this ability experience all five senses of whatever illusion she creates. The only drawback, whatever illusion she creates, she also see’s and feels as well. Driving someone to the point of insanity would also drive her to insanity. 

A/N: so this is kind of like a Violet Evergarden au? I do plan on making multiple parts, I don’t know how many, I was kind of planning on going with the flow, but if anyone wants to be on the tag list just let me know :)

Warnings: Blood, death mention, trauma, PTSD, self worth issues

Word Count: 6,623

This was supposed to be his day off. 

Chuuya grumbled the entire time he got dressed, and though he loved early morning rides on his motorcycle, he did not like weaving in between cars when he was going to the one place he wasn’t supposed to go today. 

Chuuya had worked tirelessly for weeks just to earn himself one day off, and he wasn’t exactly ecstatic to receive a call from Mori at 5:47 a.m. telling him that he had a surprise for him. Mori’s “surprises” usually consisted of a botched mission, new job, or some mess Dazai, who wasn’t even in the Port Mafia, got into. 

Nonetheless, and order was an order, and his loyalty one against his stubbornness, so he he was, riding the elevator up to Mori’s office at 6:15 a.m. 

He strutted into the room with all the confidence of a peacock, knowing his boss would be expecting him. 

taking in the room with one glance, Chuuya noticed a lone figure standing next to Mori. She held a clipboard to her side, and seemed to be writing something diligently. Mori was eagerly talking to her and pointing out things on his desk. Chuuya cleared his throat loudly, gaining both of their attentions. 

“Ah, Chuuya. I see you’ve met Y/N,”

Chuuya cocked his head in confusion. The only people he saw coming up here were subordinates and secretary's, and the girl standing next to Mori. 

Suddenly Mori snapped his fingers, and the girl standing next to him vanished. Chuuya immediately activated his ability, but before he could even blink he felt the clod, sharp blade of a knife against his throat. He threw his head backwards, attempting to catch his attacker by surprise. His head was met by empty space, and he instinctively dropped to his knee’s and kicked his leg out, and grinned when he felt his foot knock into something. Whoever it was knew what they were doing, and leapt backwards before he could throw a punch in their direction. Spinning around, he was shocked to see no one there. Using his ability, he hurled one of the chairs in Mori’s office in the direction of the door, but all it did was hit the wall and break. 

“Mori, what is the meaning of-” Chuuya stopped when Mori was nowhere to be seen. He let out a sigh, knowing this could only be work of an ability user. 

“Alright, I’m done here. Reveal yourself or I’ll have Akutagawa rip you to shreds,”

He waited, but nothing happened. He was still alone in the office. Clicking his teeth, he turned around to exit but was shocked to feel someone’s fist connect with his face. 

He stumbled backwards gripping his nose, feeling warm blood drip down his hands and onto the floor. 

Ripping off his gloves, he activated his ability, not about to make the mistake of letting his guard down again.

“All right that's it-”

Slow clapping from the location of Mori’s desk made Chuuya stop in his tracks, and he turned around to see Mori situated there once more. 

“How did you get back over-”

“My my Y/N, I never realized just how good you were. Managing to land a hit on Chuuya himself? That’s quite impressive. And I must say, it is quite entertaining to watch someone in control of your ability from an outside perspective,”

“Cut the crap Mori. Who is Y/N?”

“Now now Chuuya, there’s no need to be upset. I was merely giving you a hands on demonstration. Y/N dear, could you please reveal yourself to Chuuya? You can stop using your ability now,”

Chuuya felt someone's gaze boring into his back, and he whipped around, ready to figure out who was ruining his day off. 

He was met by a woman, from the looks of it in her mid-twenties, holding a knife in her left hand. It was the most interesting knife he’d ever seen, definitely not a type of traditional knife, Both the handle and the black were solid black and curved, creating a crescent shape. The blade was sharp on the inside edge, and there was a loop at the end of the handle. How you would wield such a knife, Chuuya did not know. 

She was clad in all black, sporting leggings and a sleeveless muscle shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. Interestingly, he did not wear heels like the rest of the women in the Port Mafia. Instead, almost sock like boots covered her feet all the way up to her knees. Many scars adorned her exposed arms, and Chuuya wanted to know their story. He himself had scars of his own, but something about hers stood out to him. She was small and lithe, shorter than he was, quite a feat. Not many managed to be shorter than Chuuya, an he wondered if harsh training stunted her growth.

But that wasn’t the most interesting thing about her. It was her eyes that drew Chuuya in.

The way that though his blood dripped of her knuckles, and he could see her ankle swelling from where he kicked her, there was nothing in her eyes. 

They were not manic like Dazai���s were, angry like Akutagawa’s or scheming like Mori’s. 

They simply held... nothing. 

Like she wasn’t a real person. A lifeless machine, taught to do only one thing, and didn’t know anything else. 

Chuuya looked into her e/c depths and saw absolutely nothing. And if he was being completely honest, it scared him. 

He’d encountered many things, many kinds of people while working in the Port Mafia, but never had he seen someone quite as empty as the woman in front of him. 

And yet, as much as those unfeeling eyes sent shivers down his spine, they also intrigued him. He wanted to know why, what had happened in her life to turn her into this emotionless robot. He genuinely wondered if she had ever smiled, if she even knew how. 

“Do you like her?”

Mori’s question snapped Chuuya out of his thoughts. Now knowing she was under Mori’s command, he turned his back to her so he could answer Mori. 

“I think she could be pretty useful. Who trained her?” 

“Dazai. Then later, Akutagawa,”

Chuuya bristled at the mention of his former partners name. 

“Why was my subordinate asked to train her and not me?” 

“It’s really quite simple,” Mori said, folding his hands and resting his chin on them. “Because I didn’t want you to know about her. I gave them both explicit orders to never speak w word about her existence,”

Chuuya narrowed his eyes, suspicious about why Mori would keep something as small as training a new recruit from him. “And why is that?”

“Because she’s for you,” 

“Huh?”

“Let me elaborate. You see, on a mission I sent Dazai on years ago, she was found. Her parents were traitors, so they were dispatched quickly, but she was a different story. When she heard the men in the apartment, she accidentally activated her ability. Dazai was able to nullify it fairly quickly, but once he figured out what it was, he found great promise in her. So, since the age of two, she was raised here, in the Port Mafia. Once she hit ten, she began her training. She’s been trained her whole life, for the past twelve years to be specific, just to serve the port mafia. She holds no emotions, no thoughts of her own. All she knows is what i, and now you, tell her to do. She is if I might say, the perfect human weapon,”

Chuuya wondered about the term ‘human weapon’. Nothing about the girl holding the knife and not even favoring her clearly broken ankle seemed human to him. 

“Y/N, you take orders from Chuuya now. Do whatever he says. and kill whoever he says to,”

“Yes sir,” 

Her voice, as well as her eyes, held absolutely no emotion at all. She gave no hint that she even felt her broken ankle. 

“Alright let’s go,”

Chuuya swept out of the room, thoughts swimming in his head.

If she was trained by both Dazai and Akutagawa, does she also take orders from them? What kind of training was she given Are there any drawbacks to her ability?

Chuuya glanced at the girl next too him, astonished to see she wasn’t even limping. He wondered if she could even feel pain, or any emotion for that matter.

“Do you have a problem with me sir?”

Chuuya winced internally. Seems she’s pretty blunt. I wouldn’t expect anything less from someone wo trained under Akutagawa for god knows how long. 

“No. Doe’s your ankle hurt?”

“A little bit,”

“I can reset it if you want,”

“My ankle won’t be an issue. I’ve been trained to handle injury's that are far worse than this,”

“Yeah, but could heal wrong if you keep putting weight on it,”

“I assure you sir, I am fine,”

“Y/N, I order you stop and let me fix your ankle,”

Immediately, she stopped in her tracks. Looking around, she strode over to the nearest bench and plopped down. 

Chuuya crouched on the ground in front of her foot, sliding the weird sock like shoe of her foot. The ankle in question was purple and swollen, and Chuuya grimaced at the sight. There was no way this only hurt a little bit. 

“I’m going to reset it now. You can squeeze my hand if you want,”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,”

Chuuya sighed, and then slightly grabbed her ankle, took a deep breath in, and jerked her ankle until he her a rather sickening crack, signally the bone was re-aligned. He almost missed the sharp intake of breath she did when he reset her ankle, the only clue that she did feel the pain. 

“All done. Now let’s go home, it’s too early for this and I'm supposed to be off today,”

“Should I drive sir?”

“Are you serious? Even though I reset it, your ankle is still broken. Besides, you driving would mean that I would have to leave my bike here,”

Y/N lightly tilted her head to the side, as if she did not understand how a broken ankle could hinder her in the slightest. 

“I could call someone else to drive you, and then I could rive your bike home sir,”

“No. No one drives my bike but me. And stop calling me sir. Chuuya is fine,”

“Okay Chuuya sir,”

Chuuya sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, an action he figured he’d be doing a lot lately. 

Timeskip~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time he got home, Chuuya was exhausted. His nose was throbbing, and to mention he had no idea what he was going to do with Y/N. He wearily stepped through the door, sliding his shoes off and then turning to the short woman.

“I’m going to go fix my nose, and then I’m going to take a short nap. After that, you’re going to help me with paperwork,”

“Yes Chuuya sir,”

Chuuya grumbled about how she couldn't seem to drop the sir, but was too tired to pursue the topic. That would be a conversation for later. 

One hour long nap and nose fix later, he was refreshed and ready to do the paperwork he’d been ignoring. 

He stepped down stairs into the lobby, shocked to find Y/N asleep on the floor. She was slumped against the door, and because her shoes and clothes had not been changed, he assumed she never left that spot since the moment she arrived.

“Y/N?”

At the sound of her name, she snapped up instantly, shooting up but wobbling slightly on her injured ankle. 

“My apologies for falling asleep, Chuuya sir. Prolonged use of my ability is rather draining,”

“It’s fine. I have extra rooms, you could have asked to sleep in one,”

“It was not my place to ask. You did not give me orders to sleep in one, nor did you tell me to leave this spot, so I didn’t,”

Chuuya was a bit shocked, to say the least. He had never met someone who did not do anything, and he meant anything, unless he told her to.

“You live here now Y/N. You’re allowed to do whatever you want while you’re, within reason,”

“My apologies sir,”

“It’s okay. I don’t know what kind of training you went through, but you can ask for anything while you’re with me. It’s not like I’m low on cash,”

“I understand. Thank you Chuuya sir,”

“It’s Chuuya. Just Chuuya,”

“I see. Thank you Chuuya,”

“Let’s get started on paperwork,”

He lead her up to his spacious home office, handing her a pile of work and telling her to just follow the instructions on the paper. He was too absorbed in his work to notice that Y/N had not moved the entire time. 

“Is something wrong Y/N?”

She pursed her lips in thought before speaking. 

“I’m sorry Chuuya, I should have mentioned this earlier. I was never taught how to read and write. I apologize for my inadequacy, you may punish me as you see fit,”

“Okay first of all, I’m not going to punish you for something out of your control. And second of all, did no one ever teach you how to read or write?”

“Mori said that reading and writing were not essential to my training. All I needed to know was how to kill someone quickly and effectively, so he gave instructions to both Dazai and Akutagawa. Although, Akutagawa went against Mori’s orders and taught me how to write my name. He made me promise not to tell anyone though. I guess I have broken my promise to him,”

“If you’re going to be working for me, you’re going to need to know how to read and write. Come on, we’re going somewhere,” 

Every cell in Chuuya’s body was screaming at him that his was not a good idea. 

He couldn’t bring her to the Port Mafia, he could not risk the chance of Mori finding out about this. Instead, he went to the one place that was least  likely to tell Mori about what he was doing. 

Chuuya approached the building of the Port Mafia’s enemies Y/N in tow, and slowly took the stairs up. He was positive they knew he was here, but with Dazai there, he hoped they would not open fire on him. It would only add another layer to his horrible day.

He knocked on the door and braced himself for whatever response the ADA would have for him and Y/N showing up on their doorstep.

“Hello, welcome to the-”

The boy Chuuya recognized as Atsushi opened the door, and stiffened once he realized who was waiting for him. 

“O-oh hello Chuuya. Can I h-help you?”

“Yeah, actually you can. Do you-”

“Is that Chuuya i hear?”

The short man groaned as he heard Dazai’s voice, already dreading this interaction. 

Dazai threw himself at Chuuya, but Chuuya ducked and pulled Y/N out of the way. Ignoring Dazai who was now face down on the ground, Chuuya and Y/N stepped into the ADA. 

Kunikida met him at the door, rambling on about he couldn’t just show up un-announced, especially seeing that he was a Mafia member. Chuuya did his best to ignore him, and continued on. 

“Hey Atsushi, is Tanizaki here?”

“Why do you wanna know that?” 

Atsushi was on the defensive, and Chuuya couldn’t exactly blame him. He did find it interesting that no one had questioned Y/N’s presence yet, or even noticed she was there.  

“I need his help with something. Yours too,”

“What could we possibly do that the Port Mafia couldn’t?”

“Teach her how to read and write,” “What do you mean ‘her’?”

It finally clicked in Chuuya’s brain. She was using her ability. Mori must have told her to always use it around anyone outside the Port Mafia unless told not to.

“Oh, my bad. “Y/N, you can stop using your ability now,”

Instantly, Y/N appeared next to him, knife in hand. Everyone in the office was instantly on guard,  trying to get a read on what she was going to do.

“Relax. She won’t do anything unless I tell her to. Y?N, please lower your knife,” Y/N put the knife back in it’s sheath and scanned the room as if looking for someone. 

She must be looking for Dazai.

“Is that my dearest Y/N?”

Atsushi looked at his mentor in confusion. “You know her?”

“Know her? Why, I was the one who trained her!”

At the sight of her former mentor, Y/N walked towards him, and punched him square in the face. 

Atsushi attempted to restrain her, but she activated her ability, causing herself to disappear from his vision once more. 

“Ah ah ah, Y/N. No cheating,” Dazai grabbed her and activated his ability, causing her to reappear. 

Blood dribbled down his face, but he carried on as usual. 

“Your punch is stronger than it used to be. Great job Y/N, i totally didn’t see it coming,”

“Thank you Dazai. It’s nice to see you again,”

“I’m shocked you don’t hate me. I did practically torture you for about seven years,”

“I never said I didn’t hate you. You betrayed the Port Mafia and caused me immense pain for seven years. Although, i can’t say that i do hate you either. I suppose i don’t feel anything towards you, like i didn’t feel anything when i broke your nose just now,”

Chuuya watched on in interest, this was the most he heard Y/N speak in one go.

Dazai chuckled at the small woman’s declaration,  then gave her a soft pat on the head. 

“Whatever you say, Y/N. So,” Dazai turned his attention to Chuuya. “What are you both here for?”

Ranpo spoke up from the side of the room. “Mori gave Y/N to Chuuya, Chuuya found out she can’t read or write, so now he’s here so Junichiro and Atsushi can teach her,”

Chuuya smirked next to Y/N. “Smart as ever, Edogawa,”

Atsushi was looking very confused, and for a second Chuuya wondered if he was going to pass out on the spot. 

“Huh? Why us?”

“Because Akutagawa trusts you, and you and Tanizaki seem to have the most patience out of everyone in the ADA,”

“O-okay, should I go get Junichiro?”

“Yes,”

Atsushi rushed out of the room in search of his friend, and in the meantime, Chuuya sat down in one of the chairs. 

“Does Mori know you’re here?” Dazai questioned. 

“No,” 

“Figures. He never let me teach her anything outside things he thought would make her a weapon. He didn’t even let me tell her what day her birthday is,”

��I have no need for such trivial things as a birthday. I know how to dispatch of something quickly, and that is all I need in life,”

“Does it make you happy?” The farm boy Chuuya knew as Kenji spoke up. 

“What does it mean to be happy? What does it mean to smile? People around me often do these things, but I never have. Does that make me broken? I don’t feel anything. I have a purpose, the one Mori gave me. Isn’t that enough to keep living?”

The room got very silent after her words, no one knowing how to respond to that. 

Finally, Yosano spoke. “Personally, I don’t think that’s really living. That’s just not dying,”

“Is there a difference?”

Chuuya was both fascinated and sad at her statement. This woman was never allowed to feel anything. He wondered how long it would take to break her free of this mindset Mori put her in. 

He was still haunted by just how empty her words and eyes were. Logically, he knew that she felt things, but he doubted she knew what they were and what to do with them. So, like she was taught to do with everything, she killed them. Buried them deep, and didn’t let them resurface. It was all she knew how to do.

“I’ve got Junichiro,”

Atsushi and the red haired boy stood at the doorway, both looking rather nervous at what Chuuya was asking of them. 

“The plan is to leave her here for two hours each day, and you two will be in charge of teaching her how to read and right. I’ll give her orders to do what you say, so as long as you don’t provoke her, everything will be alright. Got it?”

Both Atsushi and Junichiro nodded their heads with vigor, so Chuuya turned to Y/N. 

“I’m gonna leave you here with them. I’ll be back in two hours, Dazai knows how to reach me if anything goes wrong. You have my permission to attack them, but only if they have malicious intent, okay? You’ll be safe here, so i doubt anything will happen, but make sure to get a hold of me if anything goes wrong. If Dazai won’t cooperate, use Atsushi has a hostage,”

“Um, I’d rather if I wasn’t the hostage-”

“Okay Chuuya,” 

Chuuya waved goodbye to the ADA, and sped off on his bike. 

Your POV:

You didn’t know what to take of the people that surrounded you. You could tell they wouldn’t hurt you, Chuuya himself trusted them. But, you didn’t quite know how to feel about your former mentor being here. 

The blonde boy in overall’s approached you first, a wide smile on his face.

“Hi! My name is Kenji. Do you like animals?” He stuck out his hand for you to shake. 

You just stared at it, not knowing what you were supposed to do. Since Chuuya wasn’t here, you turned to Dazai for assistance. 

“You’re supposed to shake it. Here, like this,”

He grabbed your hand in his, and shook it up and down once. Next, you turned to Kenji and shook his hand, still slightly confused about what this accomplished.

“Does Rashomon count as an animal?”

Kenji looked to be in thought. “Yeah i guess it does,”

“Then I can’t say I like animals. That’s the only one I’ve ever met,”

Kenji gasped. “Well that won’t do! Atsushi, come here and turn into a tiger,”

Atsushi glanced at Dazai for confirmation, but the tall man only shrugged in response. Nervously, Atsushi activated his ability and changed into his tiger form.

The action surprised you, you had no idea what a tiger even looked like. Quickly, in the place of where Atsushi stood, was a large white tiger with bicolored purple and gold eyes. It sported impressive claws and fangs that could no doubt kill you in a second. 

Junichiro spoke for the first time since you arrived. “You can touch him. He won’t attack you. Plus, if anything happens, Yosano can heal you and Dazai will just nullify his ability,”

Hesitantly, you took a step forward and touched tiger-Atsushi in front of you. His fur was softer than you expected, and you couldn’t resist running your hands across it. Stopping for a moment, you looked at Dazai. 

“Is there an emotion to explain how I feel about this?”

“That depends on how you feel about it. Do you like touching Atsushi’s fur?”

“I think so,”

“Then that’s joy you’re feeling. Or maybe satisfaction, if you want to be specific,”

You looked back at the large tiger before you, understanding your emotions for once.

You looked at Kenji and tried to move your lips in different positions, then growled when you couldn’t accomplish what you were trying to do. 

Junichiro looked at you with confusion. “What are you trying to do Y/N?”

“I believe you call it a smile. But I don’t think I’m doing it right,”

“Oh! I can help you with that!” You turned back to Kenji.

He put his fingers in his mouth and pulled at the corners, showing you how to smile. 

You did the same, and then pulled your fingers back out of your mouth once you were sure you got it. 

In the meantime, Atsushi had turned back into his human form, and was gawking at you and Kenji. Then you turned to him and tried your best to smile at him.

He looked a bit surprised, but smiled back at you. 

“Thank you Atsushi. I think i like animals now,”

Timeskip~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chuuya walked in the door two hours later, like he said he would, and you were happy to see him. You believed the emotion you were feeling was excited, though you hadn’t experienced it much before this.

“Hello Chuuya. Kenji and Atsushi taught me how to smile,”

“Is that so?” He looked rather tired, and you suspected he had done paperwork the entire time you were gone. 

“I still don’t understand how that helps me do my job, but Junichiro said that everyone should learn how to smile,”

“I agree. Did Dazai give you any trouble?”

“No. Kunikida kicked him out after he asked me to use my ability on him so he could experience a painless suicide,”

“Mm. That makes sense. Why haven’t you stood up this entire time?”

You swallowed thickly, you were hoping he wouldn’t notice. Your ankle and foot had gone completely numb, much to your dismay. You were a failure for letting it affect you. You had trained for twelve years to be able to bear this sort of thing, so you didn’t know why this ankle was being so stubborn. 

“I’m sorry sir. I said I wouldn’t let it affect me, but I can’t feel it anymore. I’m sorry I let an injury so minor inhibit my functionality. You can punish me as you see fit,”

Chuuya walked towards you silently and raised his hand. 

Atsushi sprung into action upon seeing this, determined to not see you suffer anymore Than you already have. He hadn’t known you very long, but there was something about the way you had tried so hard to smile that made him sad. Inwardly, he held some resentment towards Dazai. He knew that Dazai had changed since his mafia days, but just how many people did he mess up while he was there? First Akutagawa, and now you. It made him feel slightly protective over you, after all, he was the first real animal you met.

“Hold on Chuuya-”

You braced yourself for whatever stinging pain was coming, but it never did. Instead, Chuuya lightly chopped you on the head with his hand.

“Idiot. I said it before and I’ll say it again, I’m not going to punish you for something out of your control. It would be unreasonable of me to expect you not to be affected by a literal broken ankle. And besides, it was me who broke it anyway,”

Atsushi gasped. “You’re the one who broke her ankle?”

“Yeah. Mori had me fight her first, then told me who she was. Hey, she did manage to break my nose,” Chuuya looked at Yosano who had watched the exchange from afar. “Hey Yosano, can you heal her ankle for me?”

“Yeah, I can. I can’t guarantee it’ll be a pleasant experience, though,”

Junichiro visibly shivered at the thought of Yosano healing. It seemed he had his fair share and was okay if he never had to do it again. 

Getting healed by Yosano was an... interesting experience. You could now understand the sorry looks Junichiro and everyone else gave you. 

Once back home, you didn’t really know what to do. It was well into the evening now, the sky fading into orange and red hues. Chuuya had gone upstairs and told you to “pick whatever room you want” to sleep in, so you guessed the living room would be fine. 

The floor in there was carpeted and looked comfortable, and you had slept on worse. You didn’t know where any blankets or pillows were, so you settled for a towel you found in the bathroom and a throw pillow that was on the lavish couch. You had pondered sleeping on the couch, but one look at the red velvet and you opted against it. Chuuya might not want you to touch any of his things. You had made that mistake once with Mori, and you knew how strong Chuuya was. You weren’t sure if you could activate your ability before he could do serious damage. 

As you settled down on the floor, you went over the events of today in your head, you noticed a few things.

One, Dazai didn’t have the unhinged and cold look in his eyes as he always did when he trained you. 

Two, though they were supposed to be your enemies, Chuuya went to the ADA without hesitation.

Three, Dazai looks at Atsushi the same way Chuuya looks at Akutagawa. Dazai never looked at you or Akutagawa that way. 

And finally, someone was lying about what happened to your Parents. Mori told Chuuya they were traitors and Dazai took you to the Port Mafia, but he didn’t. 

Though you were very young, you remember that day as if it were yesterday.

You ran through the park, having the time of your life. The sun shone down on you as you rolled about in the grass, relishing the feeling of how it tickled your arms and legs. However, you were rather surprised when you suddenly could not roll any further. Confusion clouded your face as you could not see anything that would stop you from moving forward. It was like there was a wall in your path, though you could see none. Standing upright on your chubby legs, you tried to walk backwards, but collided with something else solid. Immediately, the park disappeared. You were in a dimly lit room, and there was a man standing behind you. He wore a long, dark trench coat, and bandages covered half his face. You did not know this man, and that scared you. You ran in between his legs, attempting to escape but he grabbed you by the hood of your sweatshirt. You kicked and screamed, and wished he could not see you anymore. 

Suddenly the man spoke: “What the-”

You looked down at your hands, but were horrified to see that they were gone. So were your legs, and the rest of your body. You screamed more, you were scared of this man, scared of this room, and scared of the red liquid that coated the floor. 

Scared of the two bodies that looked suspiciously like your parents. 

You ran past the man once more, but this time he did not catch you. 

You ran out of the room, you did not recognize it anymore. Down the hall, to the left where the closet was. Just when you thought you’d made it, you were snatched up off the ground.

It was the same man as before, but this time you did not disappear.

You stayed right where you were, and cried as he walked down the stairs of the second floor, meeting another man downstairs. 

“hey Oda,” the scary man said. For some reason, no matter how hard you tried to remember, the bandage man’s appearance was always blurred, voice always muffled. 

“I think this kid is an ability user. I would take her back to Mori, but she’s seen too much. Should i just kill her now and get it over with?”

The other man was much more friendly looking than the scary man. You reached out to him, hoping he would save you from the nightmares and horrors you’d witnessed today. 

Surprisingly, the man gently took you from the other man’s grasp, and held you softly. You instantly wrapped your arms around his neck, crying loudly into his shoulder. 

“No, I’ll take her in. I don’t like to do it, but we can have someone erase her memories. Besides, if Mori hears we killed someone who might be a valuable asset to the Mafia, we won’t hear the end of it,”

“Yeah, you’re right,”

Slowly, the man took you off his shoulder and set you on the floor. He kneeled down until he was eye level with you and then took your tiny hand in his large one.

“Hello, my names Odasaku, but you can call me Oda. What’s yours?”

“Y-Y/N,”

“Good, can you tell me if you’ve ever gone invisible before?”

You shook your head no. “Sometimes, i have dreams during the day. If i think really hard about it, i can dream about being somewhere, and it’s like I’m really there. I tried telling mama and papa, but they yelled at me and told me i was lying,” You turned your big, watery eyes onto Oda. “Are you going to take me back to mama and papa? I don’t wanna go. Mama called me witch and kicks me. And papa won’t even look at me,”

Oda ruffled your hair. ‘No, you’re going to come with us now. You aren’t a with, i think you’re very special. Can you smile for me?”

You gave the nice man a big grin, and he picked you up once, more and walked out of the car. That was the last time you ever saw him, and your parents.

End of FlashBack

You often wondered about Oda, the nice man who took you away from your parents. You often about how Dazai, when he was younger looked a lot like the scary man who almost killed you that day. But Mori would never answer these questions when you asked about them. So, you stopped asking.

3rd Person POV:

Chuuya wasn’t surprised to see you had moved away from the door, where he had left you last night. 

He was however, surprised to see you curled up on the floor, using a bathroom towel as a blanket

He walked over to you, and shook you lightly on the shoulder. “Y/N? What are you-”

White hot pain pierced his thigh, and he screeched as you sliced a long gash down it, blood seeping through his pajama pants. He activated his ability, sending you flying across the room. Your recovery time was insane, because before he could blink, you were attacking again. 

He knew you weren’t yourself, he saw it in the way your eyes were blinded by pure terror. You kept using your ability in short spurts, disappearing and reappearing in different places. What he wouldn’t give to have Dazai’s ability right now. Even in your fear, you were smart. 

You had sustained several injury's, and blood was dripping down into your right eye. 

But you kept going. 

Prolonged use of your ability made you exhausted, and he could see it in the way you swayed on your feet. You disappeared again, but this time reappeared in the kitchen. There you slumped against the kitchen island, exhaustion finally getting the better of you. 

Ability still activated, Chuuya walked towards you calmly, trying not to spook you.

“Y/N? Hey hey, can you please put the knife down? It’s me, Chuuya,”

The fog cleared from your eye’s, and the knife clattered to the ground. 

You fell to your knee’s holding your head in your hands.

“I'm sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-”

“Hey calm down, it’s alright, I'm right here,”

He pried your hands away from your head, noticing how tears were freely flowing down your cheeks. He doubt you even noticed them, too preoccupied mumbling apology's and breathing rapidly.

“Hey, look at me,” He spoke in a calm, soothing tone. “You’re okay. You’re at my house, and I’m alright. Let’s get you upstairs and clean you up, okay?”

You nodded slowly, shakily getting up and starting to walk towards the stairs.  Chuuya looped his arm over your shoulder to support you as you walked. Slowly but surely, you managed the stairs.

“I’m going to give you some of my clothes to wear, okay? We’re about the same size, so we should be fine,”

He handed you a pair of grey sweatpants and a black sweatshirt, then stepped out of the room so you could change.

While he sat outside the door, he contemplated what could have caused this episode. He’d read the file on your ability, and as far as he understood, you could use it on yourself, and not necessarily just other people. So, it’s possible that when you dream, your ability activates and you genuinely experience them. And because you’d been through intense training since ten, he doubted your dreams were all that pleasant. He came to the conclusion that you were still under the influence of your own illusion, and assumed he was an attacker. 

The door opening snapped him out of his thoughts, and he snapped his head up to where you were standing rather uncomfortable in his clothes.

“All right, I have a medicine kit in my bathroom, we can get you patched up in there,”

You were silent the whole time he cleaned you wounds, and did not even peep or stiffen when he put alcohol on a particularly nasty cut on your face. 

“There, all finished,”

You never moved from your spot on the side of the bathtub, looking at the cold tiles on the bathroom floor.

“Why,” You whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Why do you treat me so nicely? I'm just a tool, something replaceable,” you’re voice rose with each passing second, and your eyes burned with unshed tears.

“I can’t even do my job right. If I can’t do that, then what am i worth? I’m meant to be used and thrown away, that's what Mori always told me, That’s what Dazai always told me!”

“So why,” You glanced up at Chuuya’s face, his cerulean depths brimming with guilt and sadness.

“WHY DO YOU KEEP TREATING ME LIKE I’M WORTH SOMETHING?” You were full on sobbing now, an action you hadn’t done in a long time. The tears on your face felt foreign, and you were confused. Why were you crying? You’re stronger than this. Stop it stop it Stop It. 

“I treat you like you’re worth something because you are. You are no less human than I am, and you are worth neither more nor less than Dazai. You are not a tool, you are a human being. I don’t care what Mori and Dazai said, I will continue treating you with respect and decency, because you are not replaceable,”

Though you knew Chuuya had no reason to lie, you had a hard time believing his words. It had been drilled into you that you were just a toll, only meant to follow orders for so long you had a hard time believing anything else. 

But that doesn’t mean you didn’t want to believe Chuuya’s statement.

“Come on, you look exhausted. I know you slept on the floor all night, so you’re going to sleep in a real bed. No buts,” He finished when he saw you open your mouth to protest.

“At least let me clean your injury first,”

Chuuya waved his hand. “I’ll deal with it. It’s not your fault, i should have known startling you wasn’t a good idea. Go get into my bed. That’s an order, Y/N,”

You limped lightly over to the bed and crawled under the silk sheets, thinking they were too nice. The comfortable mattress and expensive sheets were a sharp turn away from the cold, dirty, concrete you slept on when you lived at the Port Mafia hq. 

Nevertheless, you were exhausted from using your ability for so long, so you fell asleep to the sound of Chuuya humming as he stitched his leg. 

A/N: this is knife i was describing, for reference:

It’s called a karambit :)

#chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #dazai #atsushi #kunikida #junichiro #kenji #yosano #mori #ranpo

[navy-nyoom]

A Letter To My Mum That I Will Never Send.

I don’t feel things anymore.

At least, it doesn’t feel like I do.

Every day I live is spent not even living at all, I’m just existing and I’m just there and there’s no reason for me to be there at all because I don’t do anything, ever, at all.

I sit on my phone, because I don’t have the motivation to get up and do things, but if I have this thing in my hands I can maybe feel alive, like I’m connected to someone, somewhere, without ever having to get out of bed, and these people, they listen. They care. Even when I don’t say anything, they’re there. And I swear to god, if I didn’t have them I wouldn’t be here.

I’m tired.

Or, I think I am.

I can’t tell because it’s numb, and if it isn’t numb then it just hurts and even when I’m laughing and I’m smiling and I’m with people, I feel nothing.

It doesn’t feel real. It hasn’t for while, I don’t know how long it’s been.

I said all throughout 2020 that 2019 was my worst year but looking back now it feels like that was my peak and somehow I feel like this pit is so deep that I’ll never get out, but I think it all started in 2016. And I can pinpoint the event because it was that day in the summer when I pulled a radiator off of a wall and I tell that to my friends as a funny story but it isn’t, is it? Because I felt so alone and confused and after that I don’t even know when I spoke to my dad again, all I know now is that I was so lost and so scared and I swear I thought he died, but when I think about it now, the thought of him dead doesn’t make me cry.

Anyway, the truth is, I don’t feel human. Because everyone else is coping so why can’t I? And I do reach out, sometimes, for help. But I don’t get any. I know I’m meant to save myself but for fucks sake I don’t know how. That day I came home because I felt sick like I might just explode if I had to stay in school for five more minutes and I genuinely thought I was going to die because I just couldn’t breathe.

That day I came home and I finally felt alive and I felt real but I haven’t since then.

Here’s the thing, though, I’m scaring myself. Because I don’t want to be alive and that’s a constant thought. It’s always there, in the back of my head, I can’t get rid of it and I can’t ever fucking rest. That’s not an exaggeration, when I say it’s always there I mean it. It never goes away and it’s hard to ignore. Do you understand why that scares me? I really need a break, but the only way I can get one is sleeping forever, and although I can’t live, I don’t want to die either. But that doesn’t mean it’s not as bad, that’s what I need you to understand. Because even if I’m scared to die, staying alive terrifies me even more, and I don’t know how long I have until the idea of being gone doesn’t frighten me anymore.

I think about it more when I think about my future, because when I look in the mirror I see a kid who lost all potential at the age of eight. I had ambitions in primary, now they’ve all gone, because the reality is I don’t enjoy shit and even if I did, I don’t want to make a career out of it, because I’m bound to fail, and even if I don’t, burnout will take over and I won’t be able to cope.

You’d probably say something like ‘stop overthinking’, ‘you’re snowballing again, just stop’ but the issue is, I know that already and it doesn’t help me control it. It’s irrational, I know, but I’m an overthinker. I know all of these things, and I know all the coping mechanisms, but when nothing helps, what else am I meant to do?

I don’t want to grow up, mum, but you never take that seriously. Like I’m joking. When you hear ‘I don’t want to grow up’ you hear ‘I’m an immature kid’ but I hear ‘I want to die before I have to’ and I don’t know how much clearer I can be without directly saying it, and I don’t want to. But mum, since I was twelve, I’ve been thinking to myself when I get to 18, I’ll kill myself.

Because when I see adults, and when I look at you, I see a person who works at a job they say they love, but they find so exhausting that when they come back home they just sleep. Are you happy, mum? I don’t want to live if that’s what living is. You’d tell me to get a job I love but that’s so much harder when I can’t find the energy in myself to love anything I do.

I go back to feeling numb, so I scratch at the flesh on my arms until it bleeds because although I’d use a knife I’m fucking scared of them, and maybe that’s a good thing. But yeah, it’s still self harm. I’ve relapsed. I’m sorry.

It’s weird not feeling anything, because as a kid I was so full of emotion, so sensitive to the world. Now, I think I’ve lived my whole life with so many feelings that I’ve burnt myself out from that, too.

Back on topic, though. In school, they say ‘write a letter to your future self!’ But I don’t want to. Not that I have a choice. I don’t want to, because the thought of time passing makes my brain feel like it’s going to explode. And now I’m at a point where the future is something I’m expected to constantly think about. So I write the letter. And, well, I haven’t read any of mine, but I know there’s one thing. One reoccurring theme in every single one I’ve written since year 7. A variation of the same sentence in every single one. Something written along the lines of;

I don’t think you’re going to read this, because I don’t think I’ll be alive.

#writing #vent #bad mental health #tw suidice #tw self harm #tw death #tw vent

[chibimyumi]

Hi Chibi! I’m kind of obsessed with your blog. I’ve loved Kuro for a long time so it’s nice to see someone make very thoughtful posts about it. I was reading some of your posts about the kuro anime and was wondering. What is your opinion of the season 2 OVA The story of Will the reaper? I love the reapers so getting to know about their world is great, but will kicking grell’s ass was not great 😖.

【Response to: “are there any S1 or S2 OVAs you enjoyed?”】

Dear Dagonl,

Thank you very much for your interest! I’m happy you like my content, and it’s always nice to hear that somebody is interested in long-winded posts deep-analyses! ^^

Short answer:

As for my opinion on ‘The story of Will the Reaper’: as I said in the original post, in my opinion “[a]ll OVAs for the second season were (almost) as awful as the season itself, save for ‘The Making of [Kuroshitsuji]’.” Though, ‘the story of Will the reaper’ is actually the one that made me add the ‘almost’ in the previous sentence, meaning that it’s marginally better than the rest.

Click for Full Answer: The good things and the... awful things.

1. The good things

The reason I found this OVA marginally better is because I do respect the ambition and (attempt at) creativity the makers have shown. At the time of release the manga had not revealed anything yet about reaper origins. So I guess they could be forgiven for their artistic liberties (unlike the spoiler-revelation of Undertaker’s nature that ruined his big revelation in the manga.)

1.1. Fair world-building

The world-building works well with the idea of Yana’s satire on the Japanese Salaryman through William. As William is something of a self-proclaimed ‘model’ and so unforgivingly rigid, it gives us reason to believe the Reaper Dispatch Society is built on this type of ideal; aka the Japanese office environment. We have also seen that the technology of the Death Scythes is a century more advanced than Kuroshitsuji’s contemporaries, so the 1980s setting was well done in my opinion.

1.2. Fair reflection on reaper/Salaryman doctrine

The biggest critique on Salaryman culture is the robotic attitude employers demand. The Japanese Salaryman™ is expected to be no more than silent executors of the will from above. As explained by William, reapers don’t actually do all that much; all they do is meaningless double-checking JUST IN CASE something might be off.

As a satire this OVA is not ‘complete’ because you do need the information from the manga that came out many years later to understand why the reaper world is a satire in the first place for the actual punch. But in the very least the OVA pays adequate lip-service and does not disrespect the satirical origins of Yana’s design.

One thing this OVA does arguably better than even Yana is showing that most reapers are robotic work zombies like Will, rather than that the Dispatch Office is filled with eccentric youngsters as the named reapers of the series might suggest. (Though there is a downside that I will discuss in section 2.2.)

2. The awful things

So, to me this OVA has two good things, but they are insignificant in the face of the awful things that’s the rest of this OVA.

2.1. Raging homo and transphobia, etc.

This OVA handles Grell extremely poorly. First of all, this OVA makes it explicit that Grell is a homosexual man, blatantly defying both canon and Yana’s explicit statement of her female gender. Why? Because the most obnoxious shippers want their Yaoi, and this sells. This one literally needed to sell because it’s an OVA.

As explained in more detail in this post, Grell was called a man and she eagerly responded “oh, yes”, and later she herself confirms this statement by making it explicit that she dreams of herself in a m/m relationship. (Yes, these subs are accurately translated. Click the link for a Japanese to English breakdown).

Some fans have explained this as Grell’s words before she realised her own identity, and I understand why. We all want something to not be this gross and try to make sense of the nonsensical, and some actual identity discovering journey would have been nice. For Grell as a character however, it only serves to give Man!Grellers more ammo (even though they have the destructive power of cotton wads).

As I said in the post linked above, “[if this statement] used to be [Grell’s] thoughts that are no longer relevant in present time, the script should have addressed that in present-timeline of the story. As it is now, it is clear as day that the writer Nemoto Toshizou did not take that into inconsideration.”

Secondly, this OVA is desperately trying to cater to Grelliam shippers. Fans have always come up with different reasons to ship this, but this OVA had to choose the most toxic one to capitalise on. Why make Grell so shitty to Will for no reason? Being degrading to him is one thing, but Grell was outright deadly violent to William for trying to do his job. And then Grell only stopped being so hostile because she got beaten back and therefore fell in love?

Yes, people justify this by saying that it’s charming to Grell because she’s a masochist, “whatever”. This however, paints a very askew image of real people who enjoy masochism as a kink. Any responsible adult in the SM community would tell you how painfully shallow Grell’s masochism is portrayed as, and how this portrayal takes away all accountability from someone who harms a kink-masochist if something went wrong.

This OVA would ironically have been more effective as an anti-Grelliam story, except that it sells itself as the opposite. With just the manga, people could just say: “oh, Grell doesn’t respect William’s personal boundaries, and William is very aggressive to Grell, but they can sort that out...eventually.” Add this OVA however, suddenly William is an indisputable abuse victim, and Grell is just an “in your face gay” (as the gay stereotype dictates...)

2.2. Contradicting Canon

I am actually not all that harsh about this OVA contradicting canon history because at the time of release nothing about the reapers had been revealed yet. Like I said above, I even respect the creativity to some extent. The only real problem is because this fandom tends to conflate canon with anime information by using cross-media information to understand Kuroshitsuji.

As discussed in section 1.2., the glimpses of the Reaper office are interesting, but the downside to this is that it suggests reapers are a race one is born into because all newbies are approximately the same age. Without the manga, this information in a vacuum is fine. Later however, Yana reveals that all reapers are suicides and are being punished for this sin. If a fan accepts both pieces of information and tries to piece them together, then suddenly this bit of creativity becomes a totalitarian nightmare.

People of all ages commit suicide. If a fan were to try shoehorn the OVA info into canon material (for lack of more stories), then we get: 1. reapers are suicides who get punished, and 2. all reaper newbies are approximately the same age and able bodied. The only conclusion we can draw then is that only able-bodied suicides who fit the ‘newbie age’ are punished. What happens to people who fall outside this norm? Is becoming a reaper and ‘paying off’ your sin the only way to “serve your term”? If so, then do suicides who fall outside this norm never get a chance to redeem themselves?😱 Or...... do only able-bodied youngsters get punished for committing suicide because they still had “societal value” but wasted it? Either way would be f*cked up!

But again, none of this is a real problem as long as a fan can distinguish canon from non-canon information ^^ So, moving on

2.3. Are reapers God Almighty?

Unlike the second, the third issue I have with the OVA is actually something I am quite harsh on. In this OVA we see that even trainees like William and Grell have apparent power to judge over somebody’s life and death based on their intellectual value. However, this begs for an urgent question!

Under section 3 of this post I discussed whether the law of “a human dies because a reaper says so” according to Grell would be feasible. It’s a relatively long discussion, so please click the link if you’re interested in the details. If you just want it to be quick then just ask the following question: “why give trainees/reapers with human subjectivity an almighty God’s** power to decide over life and death of others?” If we then add the manga’s canon information that reapers are being punished for having committed suicide, then why give people whose sin was ‘deciding over life and death wrongly FOR THEMSELVES’ the power to do so for OTHERS????

Still, even if we disregard the manga and view this OVA in a vacuum, it is still VERY alarming that trainees are given this power. Perhaps if a trainee misjudges there will be due consequences from above, but why give a trainee this power in the first place? Are human lives just test objects to this “reaper race”?

This third issue is so awful to me because it shows how little the OVA creators thought through matters and just wanted a quick money grab by selling the most toxic version of the Grelliam ship.

**TLN: A ‘shinigami’ is Japanese for ‘Death (shini) God (gami/kami)’, but please note that in Japanese definitions, a ‘kami’ is not ‘god’ in the same way it is in the Abrahamic sense. A ‘kami’ is more similar to a ‘spirit’, and is therefore not a supreme being. Entirely accurately, a ‘shinigami’ would be more similar to ‘death angel’ or ‘death spirit’.

Related posts:

Why would Sascha have committed suicide? Rutger, Will and the JP Salaryman

How does a scythe kill a reaper? A discussion of MBD musical’s horrible writing of universe laws, and canon reaper laws

Can reapers teleport?

A reaper’s dormitory

#Shinigami #reapers #reaper #Grell Sutcliff #William T. Spears #William #Shinigami Will's story #The story of Will the Reaper #OVA #Kuroshitsuji 2 #Season 2 #Black Butler OVA

[stratus-skye07]

Suga Craze [One] | Suga

[Prologue] [Masterlist]

My whole life has been nothing but an adrenaline rush. There’s never a moment where I feel at peace. When I was younger I’d be jealous of the people that would always say they were bored. Everyday is a hassle for me. Being the daughter of one of the most notorious mafia leaders was one thing, but now being married to the next generation’s mafia leader is a whole new chapter of danger.

“Nurse Min!” One of the other doctors shouts for my assistance. He was bringing in a patient from the ambulance drop off. “He’s going into cardiac arrest, I need you to administer CPR until we get him into the operating room.”

I nod, “Yes, sir.” I hop onto the stretcher, over the patient, to start chest compressions as the other nurse gives him oxygen through intubation.

Being a nurse doesn’t give you any downtime either but I guess that’s more my fault than anything. I wanted to do the opposite of what my dad and my husband do so there’s at least a counteracting cycle to the mayhem in my life.

I maintain the chest compression until the operating room is ready for the patient to go under surgery. My arms are sore and tired but the patient made it through surgery. After resting for a bit to get some of my energy back, I head back onto the floor to continue my duties.

The Hawaiian vacation sadly ended. The paranoia I experienced while on vacation quickly went away and I was able to spend time enjoying myself again. I was a little disappointed that we had to come back but Yoongi and I both have our jobs to do.

I finish up my rounds with Taeyeon as we head back to the nurse’s station.

“I’m still jealous that you got to go to Hawaii. That’s my dream vacation spot. You even have a gorgeous tan.” She says with a pouty face.

“To be honest, it’s something I really needed. It was a good way to spend time with Yoongi.” Obviously, the beginning of our marriage wasn’t the best but after everything we went through we’ve become closer than ever. The trip was another way to fall in love even more.

Taeyeon gasps in excitement,“Speaking of you two lovebirds, have you guys had any thought about bringing kids into the picture?”

The thought of having babies gives me a weird mix of joy and anxiety, “Um, not really.” I respond.

“Don’t you want to have kids?” She asks.

“Of course, but Yoongi and I have jobs that are really time consuming. I wouldn’t feel right leaving our child with a nanny for a majority of their life.”

“Have you hinted about it to him? Maybe he’d be happy about the idea.” She elbows my arm.

I shake my head, “I’d rather not put the idea in his head. It’s more for my sake than his.”

Technically, it was half the truth. I’m mostly worried about the fact that our child would be born in a mafia family, always in constant danger. I remember growing up in that environment and being so scared that my dad would never come home. All the things I’ve seen would be all our child would see. That fear is really what’s stopping me from talking about kids with Yoongi.

Approaching the nurse station, I smile at the sight of a friendly face.

“Hello, Dr. Kim.” I sneak up beside Jin to greet him.

He waves, “Oh hi, Y/N. I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to welcome you back from your honeymoon. Things got pretty busy while you were gone.”

I nod leaning my elbows on the counter, “Yeah, I could tell. I’ve been working nonstop since being back.”

“How was it?” He asks,

I want to tell him that it was absolutely fantastic but that little bit of wonder starts ringing in my head. Before I knew that Jin was a part of Bangtan he was my friend and I trusted him so I figure I can start trusting him again.

“Everything was great until I thought I saw something.” I hesitantly say.

“Like what?” He asks with a tone of concern.

I look around to make sure that there aren’t any unwanted ears listening, “For a panicked second, I thought that Yoongi and I were being followed but when I looked again there was no one.”

Jin leans in so only I can hear him speak, “Have you talked about it with Yoongi?”

“Yeah, but he thinks that I was just reliving some sort of trauma from being shot and the stuff with Hyung-Sik.”

Jin nods listening intently, “Do you think what you saw was real?”

I shrug my shoulders, “I don’t know. I know that I saw something but what I don’t know is if it was real or if my mind was just playing tricks on me.”

He looks at me worryingly, “You could be suffering from PTSD.”

“It doesn’t make sense though, Jin.” I explain, “I grew up seeing the worst a kid could see. PTSD doesn’t happen to me.”

“Seeing them is one thing but you were technically dead when you got shot. Near death experiences are more than enough to cause it.”

“I feel fine though. People say I’m glowing since I’ve been back.” I say showing him my newly tan arm.

He shakes his head, “Most people do after a traumatic incident but it can hit you at any time. Just hearing a balloon pop can trigger the sound of the gunshot that pierced your body.”

I sigh at the thought of adding another problem to my list of worries, “So what do I do now?”

“Have you thought about talking to someone like therapy?” He asks.

I nudge his shoulder, “Well what are you here for?”

He waves his hands, “I’m only a doctor not a psychiatrist.”

“Yes, you’re a doctor but you’re also my friend. Who better to talk to?” I say.

“Fine, but in the meantime,” Jin takes out a pen and begins to write on a notepad, “It might be best to start you on some medication just to keep you afloat until we figure this all out.”

“Thanks, Jin.” I take the prescription from him, “Can you do me a favor and not mention this to Yoongi? We’re going to a party tomorrow night and I’d rather not have him worry about me the whole time.”

Jin nods, “You got it.”

At some point tomorrow I’ll have to get the prescription filled. I'm not one to take medication for my problems but if I’m really suffering from PTSD then it wouldn’t hurt to calm my nerves and keep Yoongi from worrying about me.

The following night, I finish getting ready as I shimmy into my black dress. It’s a long off the shoulder mermaid style dress. Yoongi bought it for me among other dresses for these parties. At first, I never liked going to these things especially since I got shot the first time I went to it but it was soon discovered that a lot of the male guests were making compliments about me which made him more prideful in accompanying him.

Just as I'm fixing the front of my dress, I get chills as a familiar hand strokes my spine.

"Do you need help zipping up?" His low voice brushes against my ear.

I chuckle, "You have that question backwards and your hands are cold."

"Your right, I need a place to warm them up." Without warning, Yoongi slides both of his hands into my dress to wrap around my bare waist.

I press my legs together to ease the tingling that has started to yearn for his hands to lower, "Yoongi, if you keep this up we'll be late." I pull his arms away.

Eventually, Yoongi zipped me up with much dismay. We made our entrance to the party. I stayed by Yoongi's side the whole night as he talked business with other mafia leaders and clients. I don't pay much attention to the conversation since I don’t handle any of it. I've learned to accept the fact that I’m here to make Yoongi look good which brings much pride to my ego.

It isn't until Yoongi's grip on my waist gets me alerted. I follow his gaze to see him staring at a man, a gaze that could kill any woman.

"Hello Suga," he bows, greeting Yoongi.

Yoongi reluctantly bows back but something about his demeanor changes as he speaks, "Suho, I didn’t think I’d see you here tonight."

He shrugs, "I've been busy in Japan the past few months. I notice a lot has changed since I’ve been gone."

"Nothing that concerns you has changed." Yoongi remarks instantly.

Suddenly Suho's eyes drifted towards me. "You've finally found a Mrs. Min to settle down with." He extends his hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Suho, leader of EXO."

"I'm Y/N and I'm not sure if I can say the same yet." I take his hand without hesitation just to show my brave side.

“Excuse me for being brave but I was wondering if I could have the honor of this dance with Y/N?”

Yoongi scoffs, “I don’t think so.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Is it not lady’s choice in the matter?”

As much as it annoyed Yoongi, he looked over at me to see my answer. “One dance shouldn’t hurt anyone. I’ll be back, honey.” Yoongi isn’t happy with my decision but he lets me go.

I don’t like to be left in the dark about things. If Suho is some sort of threat to us, I wanna know more about him.

I take Suho’s hand to walk with him towards the floor. I don’t know whether my encounter with Hyung-Sik has made me more brave or stupid but I am curious as to what Suho has hiding up his sleeve.

“So what kind of work have you been doing in Japan, Suho?” I ask.

“I’ve been dealing a lot in exports. It’s a lot of boring stuff compared to what’s been going on here with Bangtan.” Suho smirks at me, “To tell you the truth, ever since I’ve heard about you I’ve been eager to meet you.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Me? I’m nothing special.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement since you managed to save your husband from being killed and in the process cheating death and killing the leader of Park Mafia. I’d say that’s pretty extraordinary to me.”

“Well that’s what happens when you get overconfident in taking something that isn’t yours. It backfires on you.”

Suho’s eyes look passed me to have a little stare down with Yoongi who was watching closely from a distance, “Suga seems to think I want something from Bangtan as if I’m jealous of what he’s accomplished.”

“In all honesty, I grew up in this lifestyle and I know full well that all mafia groups aren’t afraid to take what they want. What makes your ambitions any different?” I ask.

“The truth is I could care less about what he’s doing with his group. My only concern is being a leader to my group and leading them up the ladder.”

Finally, the music slowly ends and I break away from Suho’s hold. Instantly, Yoongi comes up to pull me away by the hip.

Suho smirks, "I hope in the future we can have more time to talk."

Yoongi scoffs, "Any business you have to talk about with her you discuss with me. Now if you'll excuse us."

“You’ve got a keeper, Suga.”

I can tell that Yoongi doesn’t like Suho but for what reason? In comparison from my first meeting with Hyung-Sik, this was more of a calm introduction. Suho never once gave off the vibe that he was after something from me or Bangtan.

"So what's the real reason you don't like Suho." I ask as we make our way towards the bar.

"It's not that I don't like him. He's always been the quiet type and hasn't caused trouble for Bangtan, yet, so I don't trust him." He says side eyeing him.

“I’d have my doubts about it.” There’s surely something mysterious about Suho but I don’t sense it being a threatening thing.

Before Yoongi can respond, I’m caught off guard when I hear a female voice shout his name practically in my ear.

“Yoongi dear!” 

A woman with ash blonde hair, wearing some sort of leather jacket dress hybrid, about the same height as me, minus her heels, comes up to embrace Yoongi in a hug which he reciprocates, to my surprise.

She quickly covers her mouth, “I forgot this is a business party so I have to call you Suga.”

He smiles, “It’s fine. CL this is my wife, Y/N. Babe, this is CL.”

CL turns her attention to me, “So this is Mrs. Min Yoongi.” She shakes my hand fiercely. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

I roll my eyes, “Yeah, I seem to be the talk of the town these days.”

She waves me off, “I’m not talking about your encounter with Hyung-Sik. Suga has had his eye on you for awhile.”

“CL is the leader of the 21 Mafia. We met when I was starting to get Bangtan together. Our groups are very strong allies.”

“So I hope that you can consider me like a sister.” She says placing her hand on my shoulder.

I smile from the nice gesture, “Thank you but if Yoongi trusts you then I have no reason to doubt your word for it.”

 “Well whenever you have time to spare, let’s have lunch together, Y/N. We can get to know each other. For now, I’ll say excuse me there’s someone I must speak to before he disappears again.”

CL walks off into the crowd, leaving Yoongi and I alone. CL makes her way across the room, in the same direction Suho left as I lose them in the crowd. I smile sarcastically at Yoongi.

“You talked about me a lot? How come I’ve never heard about CL?” I ask suspiciously.

He shrugs his shoulders, “It never came up and it’s not what you think. Yes, we hooked up a couple of times but nothing more serious than that.”

I take a sip of my drink, “Mhm, I’m sure there wasn’t more.”

Yoongi tilts his head, smirking at me. “Why does it sound like you’re jealous?”

I act like a child and look away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh you don’t? Maybe I should take you home and show you how important you are.” His fingers glide up my thigh, tickling me through the fabric of my dress.

“Anything to leave this place.”

Yoongi takes my hand and leads the way to the parking lot where the driver that brought us here was waiting near the car. Yoongi opens the door for me to get in when I hear him talking to the driver.

“Take the long way home and we’re gonna need some privacy.” Yoongi says while I’m shimmying in.

The driver nods, “Yes, sir.”

Once Yoongi gets in the car beside me, the driver closes up the blacked out window that separates us from him.

“Come here,” Yoongi pulls me to straddle his lap where I’m greeted by a thick bulge coming from his pants.

“Impatient much?” I tease.

“Ever since you put that dress on, I’ve been thinking about what I’d do to you when we get home all night. I could barely concentrate.”

I pout, “I’m sorry. I guess I should take responsibility.”

Yoongi pulls out the hair stick from my bun causing my hair to fall down. Our lips instantly connect as Yoongi’s hands roam down my sides until they reach my thighs. The dress goes up but not high enough as Yoongi aggressively tears the slit further. I gasp at the sudden action, “I really liked this dress.”

“I’ll buy you another one.” He says through heavy breaths.

Yoongi reaches up my thighs, searching my waist for the bikini line of my underwear, but doesn’t find one.

He looks up at me with lustful eyes, “Were you expecting this?”

Licking his bottom lip, I smirk, “No, but I was hoping for it.”

I reach down to undo his pants when I overly force the buckle of his belt causing it to break. Yoongi groans, “I liked that belt buckle.”

I chuckle, “You can buy yourself a new one.”

Opening up his pants, I’m greeted by his fully erected member. His lips continue their seductive attack on my neck, dipping his tongue into my collarbone. I sit further down onto his thighs to glide the lips of my pussy up the length of his cock causing Yoongi to moan into my skin.

I skim my hand from his shoulder, down his torso until I reach the head of his dick. It was already wet at the tip from his precum and along the length from my arousal. I adjust his cock under my entrance as I slowly take in his thickness. 

“Oh fuck,” The movement of the car made it difficult to slowly sink down so I can adjust to his size. 

Yoongi tightens his arms around my waist as the road begins to get bumpier, “I got you, baby.”

I smile giving him a kiss, “I know you do.”

The movement of the car made the feeling all more pleasurable, each drop went deeper than the last. Each intimate moment with Yoongi feels more than just him fucking me. It’s more like him expressing his love and adoration for me. He doesn’t need to say anything to justify that it’s true. Just feeling it is enough.

“I love you, Yoongi.”

He looks me in the eyes keeping his rhythm, “I love you, Y/N.”

I squeeze my knees as far as they would go against Yoongi’s thighs. My walls start to tighten and I can feel Yoongi beginning to throb against me. I clung onto him until the intense blissful feeling reached its peak. My thighs begin to shake from the aftershock of pleasure going through my body, leaving me breathless. I lean my head down onto Yoongi’s shoulder when he let out a chuckle. “Are you still jealous?”

[Two]

#bts #bts au #bts mafia au #bts mafia #bts smut #bts suga #bts suga au #bts suga mafia au #bts suga mafia #bts suga smut #bts yoongi #bts yoongi au #bts yoongi mafia scenario #bts yoongi mafia au #bts yoongi smut

[idlecreature]

the buried fic comment from hell (it's so long i'm SO SORRY, I GOT EXCITED)

DEL.. I WASN’T SURE IF IT WAS APPROPRIATE TO LEAVE A LONG ASS COMMENT ON UR BURIED FIC IN PUBLIC….. SO I’M DROPPING IT HERE i’m so sorry in advance this is about to be a mess,, i’m so fucking emotional right now

((the review under the cut is in response to my fic which can b read here))

okay first –

The mental image of tiny gangly Barnabas and Jonah crouched with their hands in the dirt….. is so fucking cute?? I could feel Jonah’s jealousy just burning off of him. You had me right away. Fuck. You know how to open a story and I’m deeply envious, I’ve always struggled with it. Also, you threw in that little hook:

Despite what Jonah believes, there are some things that just can’t be explained in words.

Barnabas’ voice is so fucking good… guh… you know. I didn’t much care about Barnabas in any deep way before I joined the Jonah server and you guys have all just completely GUTTED me, I can’t believe how much I care about this highly-strung bastard,, he is so GOOD. HE’S SO GOOD???? HE’S SUCH A SWEETIE. LIKE. BARNABAS FEELING GUILTY AND HORRIFIED THAT PEOPLE ARE GRATEFUL TO HIM AND WANT HIM AROUND???? AAAAAAAAAA. And the melancholy aspect, too, which I imagine is how Mordechai was able to relate to him, get attached to him… Barnabas being bitter about how useless his tears are while he’s crying anxiously at the prospect that he might not be able to help those families after all…….

All of those scraps of Barnabas’ letter to Jonah made such EXCELLENT transitions, holy hell. Again I am inspired by your storytelling prowess. I am taking notes, for whenever my ability to write longform fic returns from war. This one was my favorite, made my heart clench:

A good world starts with a good person and a few choices that are made with the heart—

He’s so earnest I’m going to weep ;_; Barny.. you can’t make Jonah a better person he’s AWFUL,,

(Side note, super digging that I can indent stuff, block quoting makes this SO much easier.)

Also really digging that Jonah doesn’t have as nice a reputation as Barnabas… Jonah is the bad influence friend lmfao. AND JONAH’S CAT… I LOVE HIM…

And then you delivered a swift blow straight to the religion kink, as promised… “There’s something undeniably old testament about Jonah; the fire and fury of creation, the self-annihilating stare of Lot’s wife.“ LOSING IT I’M LOSING IT… WHAT A WAY OF DESCRIBING HIM God, here I thought I couldn’t possibly be more attracted to this bastard man. I am aghast at myself.

LOSING IT EVEN MORE OVER BARNABAS STACKING TEACUPS ON JONAH’S HEAD???? Why must you make them so fucking cute oh NO this is going to hurt isn’t it. ((This was the note I stuck in the Word doc while I was reading it and I thought I’d leave it as was for your enjoyment))

“Taking cues from your dreams?” Barnabas replies. “You know only the desperately mad do that?” 

“Or desperately inspired—savants and prophets and visionaries.”

And then you continued to try to kill me… Jonah thinking of himself as a prophet……. hhhhh canon-typical overambitious zealotry I’m HERE FOR IT………

“Are you trying to make me angry with you by playing the devil’s advocate?” 

“Just testing you,” Jonah says in his alloyed voice, silver-and-honey-gold. 

Del I cannot stress enough… My religion kink………. It’s been SO VERY ACTIVATED.

“Your morality has only ever been a thin cover for your shame.”

OUCH, JONAH, JESUS

Every bit of their dialogue was so familiar and tinged with bittersweetness and I owe you my entire life… Sincerely. Ugh. Like, how you described Barnabas’ internal angst about it later on – when he’s thinking of Mordechai, and he refers to "his many dog-eared fantasies” about Jonah it just really vividly conjured the thought of he and Jonah having a sort of? Queer solidarity, ESPECIALLY having grown up together. And that makes Jonah’s flash of betrayal at Barnabas not wanting to be SEEN with him that much more agonizing, personally. Like. I’ve had that happen to me more than once in real life. And much as Jonah is a piece of shit who is absolutely manipulating him………. still, ouch. Ouch. (Barnabas’ thoughts on the company Jonah keeps also made me wince. You did an AMAZING job with all of the internalized shame and frantic rationalizations, hooooooboy.)

The Lukases being colorblind is such an interesting piece of lore by the way I love it????? Now I have. Some questions, about Peter. Mordechai’s characterization in this is so fascinating to me. I’m enTRANCED by how you reverse-Uno’d it so that Barnabas was the reason Mordechai lost himself to the Lonely… the power dynamics……. so tasty. Ugh. And all of the sensual descriptions, especially of that first visit Barnabas had at Moorland house?? I didn’t clip any because I would have ended up clipping the whole fucking thing. It was aching, haunting, beautiful, holyshit. Their romance is somehow more fucked up than Barnabas and Jonah’s…

Also, I was so eager to read this I skipped the tags/warnings and completely didn’t realize Mordechai was going to be an actual vampire so that was a VERY fun surprise lmfao.

Barnabas feels like he’s close to learning something about violence and desire, how close they are, how the wires can get crossed.

THIS QUOTE IS EVERYTHING TO MEEEEEE ugh I’m having an aneurysm over how Jonah managed to fashion Barnabas into a creature that could understand him by gifting him to Mordechai for a while… letting Mordechai crack him open at the points where he was already brittle and experience an influx of some of the true darkness of the world. Just a tasty taste. That way when he discovers the truth of Jonah’s occult interests he won’t run away, because he’s already got his own fingers in the mess. He’s already given himself to one horror, why not Jonah? Shave some of the shine off of his morality, make him nice and gray so he won’t contrast so much with Jonah… And satisfying his curiosity at the same time. Two birds.

Oh, also, still sobbing about this line:

he realises that he doesn’t want to wear any colours that Mordechai can’t properly see.

EVERY TIME I let my guard down for ten seconds you smacked me with more of Barnabas being the most precious bleeding heart in the universe!!!!!! He aches so much for the people he’s trying to help and he hates people like Mordechai but part of him also wants to save Mordechai, somehow… maybe recognizes the parts of him that are like these people, still. Nearly faded but not quite gone yet. And as you’ve already established, Barnabas simply cannot let things go. Can’t disappoint people… can’t leave them when he could be doing something. Anything. Augh, FEELINGS.

Of course he knew Mordechai and Jonah were friends, he’d just temporarily believed in a sane and fair universe where things like this don’t happen. 

AND YOU HAD SUCH A PERFECT BALANCE OF HUMOR… This could have been such a feelbad fic, and tbh it still would have been spectacular. But you always eased it at just the right moment to keep it from going off the rails into irretrievable deepdark territory. Fed me little soft moments so I’d still be vulnerable enough to have my HEART RIPPED OUT LATER…

I’m not super interested in the Buried canon-wise but I love how you’ve written Barnabas’ natural affiliation with it… so subtle but powerful? (Of COURSE Jonah was jealous, lmao. He had to work so hard and he’s still not on Barnabas’ level. There’s some kinda beautiful commentary on ambition versus goodwill in there somewhere but I’m too busy nursing my battered little heart right now to articulate it.) It wove its way in and out of the rest of the plot so naturally, too. For some reason it compliments Barnabas’ temperament as I read it in canon just… so well. Was there a discussion about this on the server, and if so, PLEASE tell me about it sometime I’m so fascinated.

Jonah wasn’t even present for a lot of the fic but his characterization was so INTENSE and luminous, Christ… I know I already praised it a bit but. Woof. I wasn’t expecting to get a taste of his POV at the end and I was so excited I kicked my feet (my cat was very disgruntled) like, this line!!!

Now, he thinks there’s some truth in those false statements, in the lies we tell and why we want to be believed.

GOD, YOU’RE REALLY GONNA GIVE ME FEELINGS ABOUT JONAH AND FUTURE-JONAHLIAS IN THE SAME FIC?????? EVIL… I’m so so so fucking here for it, oh my God, Jonah with an amplifying anxiety disorder, THE PRICE OF IMMORTALITY… too bad the Eye doesn’t let you see the future, Jonah, lmao… the line “immortality just made his anxiety turn nuclear” is SEARED into my brain now, I am NOT accepting canon to contradict this ever again. I’ve always wondered how Jonah’s neuroses might have worsened in two entire fucking CENTURIES and I love the way you wrote it. I am fucking. Losing my mind.

There’s so many other things I could comment on, like. The brief but glorious Jonah-grinding-himself-off-on-Barnabas’-thigh shenanigans. Was incredibly hot, and Mordechai’s poor fragile heart breaking, and Barnabas telling Isabel that it’s fine to call him Barny…….. I’m hhhhhhhhHHHH fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m just!! I am incomprehensible!!! Everyone told me this fic was amazing but it’s fucking amazing, Del, what the hell. I’m never gonna be the same after this. The end was SHOCKINGLY sweet and I have WHIPLASH.

………… So, now that I’ve made you read a novel. Hah. Sorry. My point is. I loved every bit of this. It deserved heaps more praise but my eyes are starting to cross. Thx for sharing :’) 

Love,

Tony xx

TONY. TONY THIS MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME. FIRSTLY I’M SO GLAD YOU LIKED THIS. SECOND OF ALL, THANKS TO YOU I’LL BE SCREAMING FROM THE ROOFTOPS FOREVER HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW THIS REVIEW HAS AFFECTED ME? IT’S THE BEST FEEDBACK I’VE EVER RECIEVED IN MY LIFE I FEEL LIKE A FIRSTGRADER GETTING THEIR FIRST GOLD STAR I FEEL ON TOP OF THE WORLD LIKE I COULD THROW THE JEWEL OF THE SEA OFF THE SHIP AND LEAN OVER THE RAILINGS BECAUSE YOUR ARMS ARE AROUND ME TONY IT’S BEEN MONTHS AND THIS REVIEW HAS BEEN A FIREPLACE KEEPING ME WARM THROUGH THE WINTER MONTHS I LOVE YOU DEARLY FOR THIS YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE CHAMPION IF YOU WERE IN FRONT OF ME RIGHT NOW I WOULD FRENCH KISS YOU WITHOUT HESISTATION UNTIL THE BOTH OF US HAVE RUN OUT OF AIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCKING BLESS YOU TONY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

#fic review #mayormurdock #what the fuckkkkkk tony when are you getting your sainthood #long post #submission

[magic-pistachio]

a veil of shadows thoughts + predictions for broken code

hey even though NO ONE asked, I’m about to write my reaction to veil of shadows. obvious spoilers below the cut.

HEY so let’s TALK about veil of shadows. honestly? this was a pretty baller book.

okay. loving bristlefrost’s character. she’s a good gal, and I thought her actions were pretty consistent. I like that she has combined ambition but also humility; she knew that she wasn’t meant to be deputy, and she wasn’t a jerk about trying to keep the title. I love the promise she kept to Squirrelflight about protecting Bramblestar’s body; she’s clearly in a complicated position between the rebels and technically wanting that dude ded but also respecting the wishes of her superior and a grieving gal. wow I’m really barely coherent right now. eating pasta and it just tastes really good, guys.

shadowsight. my boy. I drew him as a little guy based on the pokemon Shuppet. I LOVE this boy. he’s combined shy and also completely selfless and brave. when the HECK will the other leaders believe him and what he’s seeing.

rootspring. love him a lot more in this book. drew him as a hippie boi. flowers galore. I loved his scenes with Tree, and I respect the character development where he’s slowly getting more and more used to himself and his abilites. [is it a yikes that he’s just starting to believe in his own worth because other cats have gotten use out of his abilities, kind of like a rudolph storyline? yeh but not completely]

so like. fakebramblestar. I’m not being original here when I say it’s ashfur. I think it’s been made pretty clear, but I love hearing other people’s theories. not gonna be a jerk about saying “what are you TALKING about it HAS TO BE HIM.” I think the final nail in the coffin there was when he was depressed over squirrelgal’s departure, and wanted her to return. he wanted her to finally WANT him. and that didn’t come true. I honestly kind of wished he was a little more violent with the codebreakers, just for the sake of...to quote a muppet’s christmas carol, “decreas[ing] the surplus population”. exiling them was pretty tame, but also, if it’s ashfur, he’s probably gonna stay a little tame and not be tigerstar the first -esque with constant blood baths.

speaking of tigerstar the first. mistystar. let’s talk about her. I agree with lots of people that her behavior is uncharacteristic; she’s a half-clan cat herself, her brother died defending half-clan cats [SHAMLESS ADVERTISING PLUG: if you’re reading this and dont know i have a comic about stonefur and blackstar in starclan,,, visit my blog to see it pls]. something I think could have remedied this is I think they should have leaned more into leader’s fears of dying right now. starclan isn’t a hundred percent around. mistystar, probably on one of her last few lives, doesn’t know if outright dying again will still let her return to starclan. i think it’d have been nice if they emphasized that mistystar [and harestar for that matter] might be terrified of starclan’s lack of presence, and be desperate to bring them back. and i mean desperate. also i like to think mistystar just hates mothwing. i always got the sense that she just resents that she exists. like no real explanation. i think we’ve all irrationally disliked someone in our lives. bring it into warriors.

berrynose. what happened. I know he’s annoying and haughty but would he really participate in murder? sad that he was “eviscerated” but can I simultaneously love that he was “eviscerated”

i love the rebel group. and i love tigerstar taking in anyone who was rejected. 

and may I just say that I absolutely LOVED graystripe’s scene. so much so that I want to paint it realistically and probably will.

OKAY, so predictions/thoughts for the rest of the series:

fakebramble’s identity will obvs be revealed in the first few bits of the next book. not sure what’ll come of the rest of the plots after this. maybe more ghosts will start to possess bodies? maybe harestar has already been possessed when he lost a life, and it’ll show up more next book? maybe lots of ghosts want OUT of the underworld, and want fakebramble to allow for more possession? maybe there will be accusatory witch trials where everyone’s trying to prove that they are indeed themselves and not anyone else?

I love squirrelflight, but I would really like a fresh, young start with the leader. what I’d like is a really angsty scene in the final battle where squirrelflight is fighting fakebramble, and struggling to just wound him without killing him, and bramble’s ghost appears and is like “it’s ok you know what to do” so she’s gotta kill her mate’s body and it’s angsty as heck. she somehow dies from wounds or whatever soon after, and they can walk back to starclan together. if we want series continuity maybe they can do the lil “one cat” pawstep thing that was in the new prophecy [or something...listen I haven’t read the series in a long time]

if the other leaders get possessed then i want a similar angst thing with crowfeather having to kill harestar, but losing the battle. yeh i want crowfeather dead. he’s fine i just want the angst.

i always wanted lionblaze as leader and then breezepelt as another leader so they’d have their ensuing half sibling drama but nah. he’s gettin too old. bristlestar would be a baller leader.  i miss leader pov during series.

i’m expecting big drama as the warriors try to redo the code perhaps? halfclan relationships being entertained, cats fighting over the real code. it’d be mad interesting if by the end the code was actually revised. 

anyway. i’m running out of things to think about. my spaghetti bowl is empty and my brain fuel’s gone. yes I should write professional book reviews. this was all very professional wasnt it????? ny times here i come.

#veil of shadows #veil of shadows spoilers #broken code #the broken code #broken code spoilers #the broken code spoilers #rootspring #rootpaw #shadowpaw #shadowsight #bristlepaw #bristlefrost

[thegeekyzoologist]

My opinion on Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous (SPOILERS)

Like many people interested in the Jurassic franchise, I binge-watched that show back in september and here are my thoughts.  First of all, I precise that I had no expectations for the series as the combo Jurassic World + kid show didn’t attracted me at all, and the trailers have done nothing but confirm my fears.

Let’s start by the positive: - Amidst the cringefest that the first episodes were, the scenes with Darius back home stand out from the rest by their quality as they are centred more on drama and character development and not on clumsy comedy like the scenes on Nublar. The idea of getting an access to Jurassic World and Camp Cretaceous as a reward for beating that virtual reality game reminded me the recruitment of Eli Wallace by the SGC at the very beginning of Stargate Universe. - Starting from the beginning of the season’s second half, the series gets better and a little more mature in its unfolding and writing, up to the point where it doesn’t seem targeted for young children but rather young teens. Some dumb scenes remain however (like the one of the geneticist Eddie, abandoned in the lab with the sole company of his birthday cake). - There is a few action and suspenseful scenes that aren’t bad in the second half with, among other things, a hide-and-seek game with the Indominus amidst the containers, a part in the tunnels that can remind some people of Telltale’s game, a monorail attack by the pteranodons which should have deserved a live-action treatment, and a climax in a storage area where the protagonists have to use their wits in order to defeat the carnotaur and escape from the underground network. On the matter of the carnotaur, one can note a nice paleontological reference with its difficulty to turn when it is chasing prey. - Of all of the characters, Roxie is the most realistic, responsible and reasonable one (and the only tolerable one in the first episodes). And let’s bring now the negative aspects: - On the matter of the original soundtrack, I don’t remember any of the original themes sadly. As I had the same problem when I viewed The Witcher though (I didn’t liked its first season but I rather well appreciated its soundtrack following a separated listening), I will wait for the release of the soundtrack before criticizing it further. - The first episodes are a total farce with a succession of all kinds of nonsenses with the bunch of stereotypical buffoons that the kids are that are involved in stupid acts by the night of their first day, acts that fall under Reversed Darwinism (the survival of the most idiotic like Grant would say in Jurassic Park 3) and that gave me the desire to give some slaps and send those Kennys to a firing squad (for the crimes of property destruction and, above all, endangering dinosaurs and employees); the infringements during the activities of hygiene and security rules that are applied in many theme parks and laboratories around the world (with the kids wandering around in the lab and touching to everything in a total dissidence; running down a zipline and brushing past brachiosaurs...); the counsellor Dave which talks to Wu like if he was an old pal of his while Wu is one of the highest corporate executive around and someone famous and respected in-universe; Wu being depicted with the subtlety of a fat beer-drunk sea lion (with his mannerisms and attitude worthy of a James Bond villain, we know right away that he is bad); cartoony action scenes (I mean bloody hell. Look at that Parasaurolophus that jumps off the jeep’s roof like he was a fookin’ kangaroo while the jeep itself wasn’t miraculously crushed under the hadrosaur’s weight); the employees and the park’s security being shitty (one enter so easily in the underground network that Biosyn could organise rave parties there right under InGen’s nose; Darius and Kenji being left with no supervision in the middle of the jungle while they are supposed to shovel shit as a punishment); the dinosaurs that passes too as incompetent for failing to kill the kids while such situations in real-life or in the first films would have unforgiving or barely forgiving but only at a certain cost. - Despite the ordeals they are going through, the kids seems to be never traumatised or at least shaken like the Murphys, Kelly Malcolm or Maisie were respectively in JP, TLW and FK since here, they seems to be in shock for a moment or two before starting again to squabble or quipping once they are away from danger. - At the end of the monorail attack scene, I thought that the writers had the balls to kill off Ben  and I would have tipped my hat to this narrative decision and give more credit to this kid show if we didn’t had the reveal at the end that he was still alive. At the end, we just got another Billy Brennan situation. - Bumby is useless in this season, aside from encouraging toy sales and being the show’s cute caution and still, it’s relative as her closeups along with Brooklynn’s rapy face in episode 2 have scared me more than the predators’ attacks in the season’s second half. And her growth rate is so fucked up as she hatch in episode 2 before reappearing in episode 5 I think which is supposed to be set two days later, where she is already the size of a bulldog. And the scene where she cries while the kids are being kicked off the lab (for understandable reasons) is so ridiculous... - Aside from in the action and suspenseful scenes mentioned above in the positive aspects, the use and depicting of dinosaurs is either anecdotal, either WTF with the Sinoceratops being almost as gentle as a lamb (try to do with a hippo or a rhino what the Kennys did with the sino, I wouldn’t mind some funny antics...). I’m not a fan of the bioluminescent Parasaurolophus and their scene either. It seems like they wanted to copy the Na’vi River Journey’s attraction from Animal Kingdom in Orlando, with semi-aquatic parasaurs worthy of some outdated depictions from the last century.   - Visually speaking, the universe and the artistic direction are poor. The jungle has the same look everywhere on the island (with trees of average height being relatively spaced from one another while the ground is covered with grass) and its scenery never seem foreboding or ominous while Isla Nublar and Isla Sorna were, in some way, entire characters in the films that sometimes aroused an eerie sense of mystery and danger, at east in the original trilogy and Fallen Kingdom. The park itself is quite empty too, even before the evacuation. There is only scene with a large amount of people and the latter seems to all share the same model and the same animation in addition of being blurred (probably as a camouflage for the lack of budget) and we don’t believe in this world as nothing grand comes out of the visited locations (aside from maybe the eponymous Camp Cretaceous) and that everything seems so bland, with even the employees being of the same corpulence, age group and behaviour except for a few exceptions. - Finally, let’s discuss about the coherence with the Jurassic World film, of which this show is supposed be a canon interquel. Even though if there is several nods to some of the latter’s events (Masrani’s helicopter is seen a couple of times; the Kennys take the ACU’s van; they walk past Zach and Gray’s destroyed gyrosphere and the killed ankylosaur’s body...)  as well as other materials of the franchise, including JP3 and Masrani Global website, like if the show wanted to tell us “Hey look! I did my homework!” in order to please the fans. It’s one thing to make references to the rest of the saga and it’s easy actually, but it’s another to use them for something else than just fan-service. Despite all this, Camp Cretaceous has its share of inconsistencies with Jurassic World. I won’t list them all since it wouldn’t be that interesting but among other things, we have the mention of fences falling apart across the entire island while nothing like this happened in JW (it seems they mixed up the JP and JW incidents) or at least not on this scale; the kids visit a lab somewhere north of the park whose existence seems a bit off as the Innovation Center’s lab can do everything that lab does, in addition of housing Wu’s secret lab; the surroundings of the mosasaur lagoon which seems empty by the end of the afternoon while chronologically speaking, the scene is supposed to happen just after the pterosaurs attack (and thus the area should be crawling with employees that are looking for eventual late visitors, or the still running security cameras could have spotted the kids) and why did those foolish Kennys didn’t thought of going to the nearby hotels right after the ordeal with the mosasaur instead of hanging around in the bleachers up until sunset, hotels where a large number of visitors are supposed to be found up until quite late in the night according to the Jurassic World film? Anyway, Camp Cretaceous might have got a kick up the backside halfway through and the quality of the episodes did increased little by little but the whole season stays nevertheless mediocre and the viewing of the series is honestly quite dispensable, especially if you were disappointed by the Jurassic World films. Some will probably tell me that I’m being too hard with a kids show but actually, the fact that it is targeted for kids is no excuse for some flaws like a lack of ambition in the artistic direction, the shitty humour or the wtf scenes. Whether a work is for adults, for all audiences, or for kids, the creative investment and the work quality should stay the same.

#jurassic #jurassicworld #jurassic park #jurassic world camp cretaceous #camp cretaceous

[passmeabook]

Servamp: Macbeth & Macduff, Kuro & Mahiru

I was writing, and am still working on, an Ophelia MBTI analysis, and then I got an idea for an Ophelia tragic heroine meta, and from that came this. Ophelia and the Greed Arc have a lot of Shakespeare references and influences, and I found some interesting things while rereading through the arc. While Ophelia and Lawless have strong influences of Hamlet I would argue that Kuro and Mahiru have strong influences of Macbeth.

In this meta I’m going to be pointing out the similarities Kuro and Mahiru have to Macbeth and Macduff from Macbeth and how this might influence the future of the story.

Hypothesis: Tanaka has used parts of Macbeth and Macduff respectively to write Kuro and Mahiru. Can we use these two Shakespeare characters and perhaps infer what Tanaka intends to do with Kuro and Mahiru as the manga continues further along?

Kuro as Macbeth

In Ch. 24 “Tears” Lawless says this line to Kuro “Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from your hand? No, this your hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine. Making the green one red.” Intriguingly this line is said while the both of them are fighting on a stage. Plays have traditionally been played on stages, so I wondered if this was deliberate. Especially since in Hyde’s flashback story to Ophelia the memory is literally played out in his mindscape on a stage, and when the memory is over the curtains close.

When Lawless is fighting Kuro on the stage he says this in reference to Kuro directly as he uses the word “you” instead of “my” when referring to the hand covered in blood. We even get Lawless stabbing Kuro in the hand with his rapier followed by a close up of Kuro’s pierced hand in the panel following the Macbeth line. Hyde by saying this to Kuro and using the word “you” instead of “my” is placing Kuro in the role of Macbeth. 

Lawless changes the words in the line a bit, but the sentence comes from Shakespeare’s Macbeth Act 2 Scene 2 after Macbeth has murdered King Duncan in his sleep. The original sentence is Macbeth speaking about himself and he says “Whence is that knocking? How is ‘t with me when every noise appals me? What hands are here? Ha! They pluck mine eyes. Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.” (Sparknotes Editors) In modern English this text reads as: “Where is that knocking coming from? What’s happening to me, that I’m frightened of every noise? Whose hands are these? Ha! They’re plucking out my eyes. Will all the water in the ocean wash this blood from my hands? No, instead my hands will stain the seas scarlet, turning the green waters red.” (Sparknotes Editors)

In Macbeth after Macbeth murders King Duncan he experiences great guilt that plagues him throughout the rest of the play. When Macbeth says that not all of the ocean could wash away the blood he is saying that the regret of committing this crime will stay with him forever; he will never be rid of the sin of the act of murder. The reason Macbeth murdered King Duncan is because he visited three witches and received three prophecies: 1. Macbeth will be Thane of Glamis (which he already is at the start of the play), 2. Macbeth will be Thane of Cawdor, and 3. Macbeth will be king (which is what drives him to murder King Duncan). Ironically Macbeth at the beginning of the play is presented as a hero. He is noble, courageous, and loyal to his cousin King Duncan. He is renowned throughout the Kingdom of Scotland as the greatest warrior in the entire country. Which is why his betrayal of Duncan is so poignant. That a noble and loyal warrior would murder his defenseless slumbering king was unimaginable treachery.

Similarities between Kuro and Macbeth become highlighted once you see the connection. As far as we the readers know Kuro had a close relationship with The Creator, and yet he was the one who murdered him. We know that The Creator and Kuro had a conversation before his death, and The Creator is shown to be sitting down and seems to be relaxed around Kuro. Kuro essentially murders The Creator when he is defenseless just as Macbeth murders King Duncan when he is defenseless. Another similarity is the guilt Kuro and Macbeth hold over the murder they have committed. Macbeth’s guilt follows him to his death, and Kuro’s follows him for several centuries. Macbeth’s line of “Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep”—the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care, The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course, Chief nourisher in life’s feast.” (Sparknotes Editors) refers to Macbeth’s inability to truly rest and be at ease now that he has committed the murder of King Duncan. Macbeth’s conscience will not allow him to sleep because the guilt will not leave his mind. Which parallels Kuro and his inability to move on from his regret of The Creator’s death. 

I also thought that the three witches in Macbeth were interesting because you can parallel them with C3. As of Ch. 99 we’ve found out that C3 was originally CCC which stands for “Conjurer Control Convention”, and the fact that there are three C’s as well as three witches, and that these are the entities that deliver the information that results in a murder is thought provoking. We the readers don’t know the contents of C3’s letter beyond the fact that it held information about The Creator and that it asked the Servamps to kill The Creator. For all we know there could have been more included.

A great callback connection to Kuro’s hand wound by Hyde and the metaphorical blood on his hands from the murder of the Creator is in Ch. 31 “I’m Not Wrong”. Mahiru has entered Kuro’s mind and Kuro is saying how he never wants to make another decision ever again if he’s just going to regret it, and that he’ll only do things another person tells him to do. When Mahiru tells Kuro that accepting a decision a person makes is wrong takes courage, we have the speech bubble in the same panel that shows Kuro’s right hand, the hand Hyde stabbed in Ch. 24 “Tears”, covered in blood. This is deliberate because it is the only time in this sequence of dialogue that it is shown bloody. The rest of the time the hand is clean. 

Also in Ch. 24 “Tears” we have Kuro’s shadow while fighting Hyde appear to have only four fingers, and in the above photo Kuro’s thumb is slightly obscured and seems to blend into his palm. Making it seem as though at first glance if you don’t look hard enough that he has only four fingers. With real lions they have five fingers on their front paws, but what we’d consider the thumb is much higher up their paw almost in their wrist area, so it sometimes looks as though they only have four fingers. Kuro’s claws are also made up of four appendages. In Ch. 2 “Tsubaki” after he has slashed Belkia his hands show two long claws and in between them are two shorter claws.

The similarities between Kuro and Macbeth end at their guilt. In the play Macbeth continues to murder, and Kuro has decided he will never make another decision on his own ever again becoming passive. Kuro has also faced his guilt and acknowledged he was wrong, and through the series has tried slowly, but surely, to change and become a different, better person than he was before.

Mahiru as Macduff

What truly stands out to me as Mahiru sharing similarities with Macduff is that in Macbeth Macduff is a foil to Macbeth, and his overall good character and noble qualities are supposed to contrast against Macbeth’s ambition and pride. Mahiru and Kuro are definitely opposites with Mahiru’s All Work vs Kuro’s All Play, but there are more subtle instances where Mahiru parallels Macduff. In the play Macduff is suspicious of King Duncan’s death and suspects Macbeth. Mahiru while not knowing about The Creator still wonders in Ch. 25 “SOS.” ‘What happened with you in the past? Just who did you kill? Or did you not kill anyone? What did you do with the majority vote? Did you approve of the-’, so there is a small parallel of Mahiru being curious of Kuro’s actions that may have resulted in a death in the past just as Macduff is suspicious of Macbeth’s involvement in King Duncan’s death.

Another parallel I found between Mahiru and Macduff is knocking. In Macbeth Macduff knocks on the door of Macbeth’s estate, where King Duncan had been staying. Macduff’s duty is to wake the king, and when he goes to wake King Duncan he finds him dead. Macduff’s knocking has been thought to represent Macbeth’s conscience knocking on his moral door. It’s also been thought to foreshadow that Macbeth’s opponent in the play is Macduff who’s knocking startles Macbeth after he has murdered King Duncan. Macbeth even has the line “Wake Duncan with your knocking. I would thou couldst.” which means “Wake Duncan with your knocking. I wish you could.” (Sparknotes Editors) to emphasize the regret he feels over killing Duncan.

In Ch. 31 “I’m Not Wrong” Mahiru is shown to say that he doesn't need a weapon to be let into Kuro’s black box. Only a knock. Just as Macduff can represent Macbeth’s conscience with his knocking, so can Mahiru represent Kuro’s with his. Only Mahiru and Kuro have much happier results than Macbeth and Macduff do with Mahiru guiding Kuro to confront his regret and telling him he was wrong to make the decision he did.

With Mahiru seeming to parallel Macduff in some ways it makes me wonder if there are more similar points between the two. In Macbeth Macduff was born by a cesarean section, and since Mahiru’s birth is mysterious and the circumstances around it haven’t yet been revealed to us it makes me wonder if Mahiru also was born via c-section. Along with what other secrets Uncle Toru hasn’t told us about Mahiru’s birth.

Conclusion

After analyzing Kuro and Mahiru’s similarities to Macbeth and Macduff I don’t think Tanaka will use references from Macbeth anymore, not so prominently at the very least. The Greed Arc is over, but the story still continues on. The best idea I can gather from this is that Mahiru may have a birth story similar to Macduff, or share the circumstances that their births are outside of the norm. Macbeth’s influence seems to have run its course in the series. Still, the way it was used in the Greed Arc for Kuro and Mahiru was incredibly well done and subtle.

I do find it hilarious that when Hyde uses the Macbeth line on Kuro in Ch. 24 “Tears” he’s just telling Kuro that blood from murder is on his hand. He doesn't realize that Kuro feels immense regret for killing The Creator, just as Macbeth feels immense regret for killing King Duncan.

I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Thank you for reading this far.

Sources:

SparkNotes Editors. “No Fear Shakespeare.” SparkNotes.com, SparkNotes LLC, 2005, www.sparknotes.com/nofear/shakespeare/shakespeare/ 

Pictures:

Ch. 24 @pastenaga

Ch. 31 @lichtjekyll​

#servamp #servamp meta #servamp kuro #shirota mahiru

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, PHOEBE! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF SALOME.

Admin Rosey: This was incredibly difficult. Both applications were stunning and shined in the limelight - but there were these small details, Phoebe, that you included that had us absolutely captivated. Salome, I think, is a difficult character to encompass so wholly while not overlooking the details. But you managed to do that, to tie her all together while not putting her in a package. The application was such a joy to read from beginning to end - the way that you tied so many different characters into her, into her future. It was an absolute thrill to read because I was able to see so much while still being tantalized by possibilities. I can’t wait to see how Salome shines on the dash! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Phoebe

Age | 22

Personal Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | Pretty active (6/10?) due to a national lockdown, but I’m a postgrad student so some days are busier than others.

Timezone | GMT

Triggers | REMOVED

How did you find the group?  | I check out the ‘new rpg’ tag a few times a year & your graphics and then everything drew me in

Current/Past RP Accounts | Masha Vetrova @ ProchnostRPG

IN CHARACTER

Character | SALOME

What drew you to this character? |  Typically I tend to go for characters who have a fundamental moral alignment of ‘good’ (even if it’s been a bit corrupted) so at first I was really drawn to Gabriel/Abaddon/Isolde. I even brainstormed them a bit before moving onto the demon bios.

But then I read Salome’s bio, and I really couldn’t get her out of my mind. There is something so delicious about her, so dastardly poetic. In a way, she’s as pure of heart as many morally good characters - patient, steadfast, true to herself. It’s just that her heart is a blackened one. A nature so rotted that even eternal damnation in Hell’s Abyss was not enough. The only fitting destiny was a demonic one, and the wings tore out of her body as if they’d been there, dormant, all along.

I know the story of Salome (thanks Oscar Wilde) & I just adore the way in which the bio weaves the biblical story into this world and this character. Salome the Temptress, unflinching as she demands the head of John the Baptist and damns all around her to Hell. This one line in particular from Rosey really, really captured it all for me:

No, the minute her mortal heart stopped beating and she opened her eyes to the fires of Hell, there was only laughter to be heard – pouring from her lips as melodic as a lark’s song, a stark contrast to the wailing and grinding of teeth.

Salome feels young and charming and spoiled and light and warm and content and this image - her descending into Hell, disrupting it with her peals of laughter - sums it all up. She is arrogant and uninhibited with her sins plain for all to see. But she is also clever. She is a girl who dances with the dead; demon through and through. She lets them openly see it so that they do not think to look closer. For if they did, surely they would see Salome was more damned than they’d ever envisioned? See that the open delight she projects - the laughter and fevered dancing, - all distract from a mind capable of cold, calm strategy? See that her hands are beautiful because they are stained with the first blood of this new world?

…All of which is to say that Salome the Temptress has worked that tempting magic of hers on me too - hook, line and sinker.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | If it serves your guys’ plotting vision then absolutely! I’d just ask to write the death scene/have some say in the way it went down. (The person killing her off better be prepared for the fight of their lives).

FUTURE PLOT IDEAS

• (small) PLEASURES •

Grand plans and power grabs are all very well, but day to day (on the dash lol) Salome is ruled by small pleasures and indulgences. What was the point of forging this new world if not to luxuriate in it?

01. I’m very curious to see how her relations with all the other demons play out. Salome is by and large a solitary creature - the natural result of her arrogance - but I think there are some demons she favours more than others. I could see a potential friendship (or the lesser version of that bond) with ORIAS, for one. There were those who saw something akin to witchcraft in Salome too. There had been envy, when Orias was hailed the Original Witch, but even Salome has come to recognise the ungodly power that resides in them. They are one of the only creatures that Salome has any real respect for. She understands that there is value to learn in what Orias can teach.They call them the false prophet - it seems poetic that Salome is drawn to her. (So ! Much ! Potential ! Witchy ! Power !)

02. So too can I imagine Salome having a particular curiosity towards MAMMON. Hungry and dark and empty, Mammon is probably Salome’s demonic ideal. With mortal origins herself, they represent a different kind of demon – one she thinks is utterly beautiful. Their future ambitions could align, both with a deep, aching appetites, but I can also see her purely enjoying the unique company of them. Salome does not treat her ability with any real respect or caution; she sees the dead as a game. think she’d genuinely delight in Mammon mimicking her gift and the amusements that could follow. (Ok not to say I’m suggesting deal body party games but it’s very that)

03. Salome gets equal pleasure (if not a great deal more) from less-than-friendly relations. She pushes purely because other people’s irritation amuses her. I think her relationship with AZAZEL in particular could be very, very fun. Of all the demons, I can see Salome having a particularly petty dislike / jealousy of Azazel for a few many reasons.. A) they are both products of indulgence, daughters of parents (literally and figuratively) who spoiled them rotten. Similarities repel and all that. B) Azazel is part of the de facto royal family, favoured by JUDAS.. and DAMIEN .. and ABADDON .. and Salome has not ever handled that well. She watched on as they, along with the rest of hell, fell for her and thus a time-old grudge was born. C) Azazel forms part of the Holy Land’s rulership. A land that was won because of Salome (in her mind) and one she feels has rights of ownership too. I imagine that Salome genuinely despises that the role was given to Azazel of all demons. I - I just sense so many great opportunities for both bickering and battling.

04. Salome draws great pleasure from her own magnetism. Devotion has followed her throughout the stages of her life, but it too has come to wax and wane. It is there in BASTIEN though, and it’s one of the connections I’m most excited for. He satisfies her addiction, and in return she is both doting and cruel. There is some value in him politically, bu it’i more of a .. personal connection. That could change though. Or, perhaps a genuine fondness might develop, in the same way that other celestial beings seem to be fond of their animal companions. A muted form of possessiveness over his gaze and his wonderment (which may well manifest in Salome having a particular resentment towards EVANGELINE) . If he were to share out his devotion, or if it was curtailed by any harm coming to Bastien himself, Salome would not be happy. Perhaps his attentions have come to somewhat satiate her appetite and tentatively restrains her darkest needs - a fact that neither of them have realised. (!!!!!)

• (medium) OPPORTUNITIES •

05. There are some things she keeps to herself - at least for now. There’s a lot of potential for self-paras or connections with the wider RP plot. To me, Salome has something akin to true addiction inside of her. It was there from the moment of her mortal birth, and it worsened with each hit. Essentially, I think an inescapable plot point is that Salome is a lil’ bit bloodthirsty. I think this would largely be developed through my own musings and mortals who are just ‘extras’ to this RP, but I’d love to deal with the intricacies of Salome having to cover this habit. Maybe she continues to use others as scapegoats; maybe she chooses her victims with careful attention so that they go unnoticed; maybe she does it in such a way that implies the presence of a beast or daemonium.

( In fact, the concept of the DAEMONIUM is verrrrrrrrrry intriguing. Creates who inhabit corpses and do nothing but feed their hunger? Sounds like a character I know. This is a potential plot point that relies on your guys’ vision and some collaborative world-building, but I think there is definitely exciting potential to explore these creatures through Salome. Imagine the carnage of her trying (successfully or unsuccessfully) to out-possess them.)

06. I think Salome would take any opportunity to poison Infernum’s highest-ranking. This isn’t so much be her political ‘end-goal’, but an opportunity for some real entertainment. It would be a game, try and crack the kinship that exists among  AZAZEL, JUDAS, DAMIEN and ABADDON; injecting a few words here, a few doubts there, and see if their loyalty lasts.. She knows Judas from a past life and has watched him oh so carefully overtheir many entwined centuries - I imagine she is a gnat to him, pushing all the right (and thus wrong) buttons. It would a sport to try and make his familial dynasty crumble. Perhaps she might attempt this by throwing doubt on to Abaddon in particular, whose aura contains a flatness that Salome cannot read. Salome doesn’t know of the goodness that lies in her, but perhaps she might find out. Regardless, I think Salome’s worst imaginable fate would be being locked in the Black Cells, unable to dance and revel in the world, so she harbours dislike for Abaddon anyway…

07. EPHEMERA is an opportunity that Salome had not anticipated. And let me tell you, boy do I adore this connection. It strikes me as a true clashing of teeth and spirits, but not as simple as one born from pure malice or hatred. Salome feels many things towards Ephemera, but she certainly doesn’t hate her - even if the ferocity between them implies otherwise sometimes. There’s a thin line between love and hate, as they say, though perhaps neither of those terms sum up Salome an Ephemera. It seems to be pure passion and temptation. I can’t say where this could lead without the thoughts of a possible Ephemera writer, but I’m sure it will be nothing short of explosive. I think this connection is the most Salome has ever felt towards another being, and that in itself is curious to her.

• (great) AMBITIONS •

The possible destinies of Salome. The following are all ways in which her story could play out, and all of them are quite dramatic. Who’s afraid of the big, bad plots….

08. Infernum technically has no throne. In order to thus claim it, perhaps one first has to be built? Salome would have no qualms choosing a side in another demonic cvil war. Why, if DAMIEN were to stake the claim of his birthright against JUDAS, he could count on Salome for support. If Judas were to live up to his title and betray the antichrist, he could count on Salome for support - if he got there before the other. Salome will happily help them consolidate a throne through bloodshed and betrayal. In fact, it will be her pleasure.

For through it all, Salome will be the demon who has thought to use MICHAEL. They are insufferable and righteous and (quite literally) archangel incarnate - really, if she had the chance, she knows that their blood would be the most utterly divine to spill - but they are useful. Undeniably powerful. Salome knows she must be careful here, but she enjoys the undisguised exasperation on their face. As if they have not yet thought to recognise the ambition that lies in both of them. If they helped her ascend to the throne of Infurnem, she would be a far more acquiescent to Caelum’s interests than the current leadership. Why? Because Salome would not act - would not even pretend to act - on behalf of demonic interests. If the best chance of her claiming ownership of the world depended on sharing it with Michael, then perhaps she would be willing.

09. But power can manifest in more than one way. She could follow such dreams, or she could become the world’s nightmares. And wouldn’t that be more indulgent? Where others hold power or peace as their prime ambition, Salome would get equal pleasure from the simple decay of all things. The world could rot and she would laugh - the dead are often better company than the living. Ultimately Salome would start another war without hesitation; she would sacrifice everything and everyone for the beautiful carnage of utter destruction. It had been so easy with the War of the Last Rites, but she had been disappointed when it ended in peace. That will not happen again; she will be ready next time. When all factions are suitably engaged, she will raise her own force and strike them all down together. — Such are her thoughts anyway. Thoughts that started developing when she met RYUK. To her, the power Ryuk holds is breathtaking. There is no other ability she desires quite as much. For if she were to contain both of their powers within herself, she would have dominion over a force so great that no living creature - mortal or immortal - could ever hope to defeat. The dead. It is a delicate strategy, but she has the patience for it. And if there was any who would spill the blood of a horseman just to see what happened, then it would surely be Salome.

10. Where there are mortals, there is faith. The relationship between Salome and the faith of the HUNDRED-EYED GOD intrigues me. In her mortal life, faith was an amusement. Its believers has been her playthings - perhaps they are again in this world. ISOLDE is as all prophets are; tempting. I think that Salome could potentially decide to join the faith – or give the impression to do so. Such a deceit would be fun and far from difficult - already she joins in on their rituals, her feet unable to stay away from any form of rhythmic movement, even ones more gentle than her usual tastes. A demon of relative influence, perhaps her faith would be welcomed amongst those most holy, perceived as a positive development in the faith’s recruitment. Perhaps she finds a currently unknown fellowship in the form of ESTIENNE, whose manipulation of the shadows surely speaks of some rot in his heart.

And all for one simple reason. Where there is faith, there are the faithful. Where there is the faithful, there is the potential for bloodshed so rich - so intoxicating - that she would play this long, patient game just to taste a singular drop. She has never been able to recreate the electrification of that first diabolical deed, when she claimed a saint’s head as her prize. She had danced and damned and thirsted ever since; the blood of an ALL-SEEING PRIESTESS might just quench such a need.

• (potential) DOWNFALLS •

Ah, but all of the above are just potential ideas. It is just as likely that Salome would be subject to some downfalls and some .. rude awakenings. I adore the fact that both MICHAEL and RYUK have such different perceptions of their connections. They are both far smarter than she gives credit. Michael is, ultimately, more powerful than Salome on more ways than one - they will surely outplay her as they have everyone, though she might be of some use to them too. In Ryuk, Salome has started a war she might live to regret - one she hasn’t even realised she’s fighting. She has perhaps been a little naive here, and it will be quite something when she realises.

There are other possible connections that could prove Salome’s downfall – or at least a be a hindrance. In my mind, it is GABRIEL, ZADKIEL and CAPHRIEL that she is most weary of. They each have a light to them that she does not care for, along with the arrogance present in all angels. I say in the following section that Salome has no fears; they represent the closest thing she has to possible concerns. I don’t think she yet knows any of them particularly well outside of the War, but she has thought of their powers. The latter two in particular harbour gifts that could, potentially, expose Salome, and thus she has developed a specific distaste for them. And of course, she probably finds them particularly fun to antagonise.

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation | [TW: Implied suicide in section I ]

I think a large part of my attraction to Salome is that she isn’t really driven by an external force. Partly she is driven by the deep appetite within her (which I’ve mentioned more in other parts of this application) but I also think her motivations stem from her own intrinsic nature; she is pushed by her own heart towards ambitions that are mere extensions of her character. I think there are three central aspects of her character that best explain her motivations and actions: a complete lack of fear, an overwhelming self-adoration and a deep, petulant intolerance of monotony. Together, they’ve created a woman - a demon - amply motivated to do any of the above listed plot ideas.. One who simply does as she wants for no reason other than want itself. Below I’ve given three early examples (set in BP) of these traits taking root (and rot):

I • For what use is fear to those who are damned?

It was said that Jesus’ tomb lay empty. Through the wind Salome heard whispers of women who’d gone to mourn and found nothing - only stone and airwhere a pierced and bloodied body should have lain. It seemed the proclaimed child of God had evaded corporeal death yet again; that the words of the old, tiresome preacher whose head she once cradled had proved true. Their claims and their preachings were not false as her father had accused - but really, had not Salome always known that? Was it not she who had delivered John’s salvation, cast him up to his venerated Heaven? And as it happened - as both the head and the soul of John his body - had not she felt her own moment of pure, divine bliss?

It brought clarity; there was no hesitation in her now. She stood alone, looking out upon the depths of the Galilee Sea with an unconfined grin spread wide upon her face. She had known, always known, that the boredom of this life was only temporary. The adoration she received on earth had grown dull, she sought new, greater opportunities for her talents. There had existed a deep craving inside for as long as she could remember, one that had become increasingly difficult to satiate. It told her that her destiny lay outside of Heaven, that both the prophet and her father the king had been right to look upon her with fear. For if John and Jesus had ascended upwards, could she not leap down into her own descent? The idea of it felt so simple, so natural, so potentially powerful. Neither death nor the the promise of damnation brought her anything but intrigue. She thought of the wicked and the cruel, of the infernal depths to which she was bound, and felt only satisfied.

Mortal though she was, Salome was not afraid. Why should she fear her own destiny? Why should she fear for those she left behind? Fear had no place in a heart without hope. With a simple step, she threw herself into the icy water and waited to reach the blackest depths below.

II • For what use is love to those who are satisfied?

Where there was Salome there was laughter - her own, that was - sharp, loud and melodic. When she first opened her mouth it had sliced through Hell and turned all of its eyes onto her. Rightly so, for she she had laughed as she’d evaded Abaddon’s grasp, clawing herself out of the Abyss of mortal souls and claiming a rightful place in the depths of Hell. The Morningstar, sat above all, had not yet even spoken when Salome had started to dance.

She could feel Hell’s eyes on her, and what better way to greet such attentions than with that she did best. She had reaped rich rewards for it before, and she would do so again. A fleeting glance at her naked body showed her this realm had not dulled her beauty but made magnified it, her skin aglow with the fiery light of hellfire. And so Salome danced, feverishly but deliberately, losing herself in the spirit of the moment. What could anyone do but simply bask in the splendor of her new existence? As she raised her arms above her head, a pair of wings cut through her flesh and slowly tore out of her. Iridescent, they unfurled as if they too had felt the call of her movement.

A feast of celebration had followed. Salome could only laugh in delight as she looked upon demonic faces of adoration, gazes more alike than different to those she had received on earth. Seated at the left-hand of Lucifer himself, she had slotted into the natural order of Hell as if it had been her descent that had been prophesied on earth. How many in Hell, with all its angelic origins, had the blood of a true holy man on their hands? Perhaps just herself – and, she supposed, the man sat to the right of the Prince. Judas Iscariot. The Great Betrayer. A man she had known of in her mortality, a follower who’d wrought a downfall more entertaining than any Salome had otherwise witnessed. He looked on at her with a hard glint in his eyes and she merely smiled back - for Salome understood why. Here she was, a fellow mortal in Hell with infernal wings protruding from her back where Judas had none. It all made such perfect sense; Salome was truly different. Truly transcendent. Made and marked by forces darker then most of Hell could stand. In that moment (and all moments thereafter), Salome was acutely aware of the true power that resided within her, spilling out through her beauty, allure and wretched talents. Why, she was utterly glorious.

III • For what use is peace to those who are bored?

Eternity stretched out in front of her; memories of the wouldn’t fade. Of all the differences between immortal and mortal existence, it was only the nature of time that had ever frustrated her. To Salome, the centuries had passed by in both unfathomable speed and agonising monotony, the linearity of earth dead and gone. It seemed that in the face of an infinite future, even Hell could drag. It operated in a stasis that had begun to suffocate her and, gradually, had awakened once again an appetite that had only been temporally satiated. Lucifer dictated balance and moderation where Salome saw no reason for restraint. He had given her duties like none earth had ever dared, and she didn’t care to fulfil them. She had even grown tired of her puppetry, tired of dancing amongst such frustratingly passive bodies. There was, in a place of corruption, nobody left to actually corrupt; no opportunity to taste innocent or holy blood.

Over time she came to sense the quiet seeds of unrest in Hell, and she was gladdened by them. Once again a wicked smile graced her face, once again she twirled around the pits of Hell in anticipation. There was no better cure for boredom than chaos, and once she’d caught the scent of it her hunt could not be stopped. It had proven easy to have the whispers diverted and delivered to her ears - so many were under her spell, either terrified or infatuated. So Salome came to learn of plans of razing Hell against its master, ripping through worldly divides and claiming the earth she once lived on. At last - she could have wept from delight. And most entertaining of all, Salome had snatched the dice into her her hands.

How easy it would be to join the dissenters, to war with them against the order of Hell that had shackled her. How tempting it was, to dash their plans by raising her own blade to the Morningstar and plunging the world into carnage without warning. How fun, the thought of taking all she knew to Lucifer and laughing as he rained down revenge on the demons he had been foolish enough to trust. Impatient with monotony; patient in the face of action. Salome did not yet know what she would do, and she found utter delight in the potential of it all.

PARA SAMPLE

The Holy Land was not suited to revelry. It lacked the vitalityand decadent excessthat a true celebration required. And really, wasn’t this her domain? Nobody got more unadulterated pleasure from a celebration than Salome - she doubted that even the festivities of the Stygian Moon would be of renown without her inputs. This particular affair was proving even more tiresome than she’d foreseen. Every year she stands under the Triune Moon and watches as solemn vows are sworn; every year she wonders why they could not just be done so in private, sparing them all this tedium. She had said as much to Damien before as they had departed the comforts of the Black Palace, and had received little more than a scowl in response. But she knows her point has more merit than they’d care to admit. How long before these promises of harmony are exposed as a farce? At least that year promises some true entertainment.

Salome thinks all this as she watches the stage in front of her, eyes lazily switching between the three figures who stand upon it. The Sun, the Moon, the Stars; every pair of eyes in the sweeping crowd are trained on them. Salome can feel them. Or rather, she can’t feel the usual warmth of infatuated gazes on her own skin. Here she stood amongst hoards of mortals and beings more lowly than herself, and none were paying her their usual bouts of attention. The only thing that prevented a quiet tantrum was the knowledge that she was far from alone in feeling this agitation. Her stare flickered from the stage towards the figures of both Michael and Judas, and she could not help but smile. To eyes that had repeatedly examined them over centuries, the rigidity of their bodies betrayed them. She was far from the only one who felt the absence of centrality, and that, at least, brought her some pleasure.

Still, she only has so much patience for ceremonies not directed at her.  Yet no sooner did she shift to exit the crowd than did words delivered on the stage give her pause. Azazel’s voice, suitably haughty, repeating the typical sentiments of the Holy Land. This was the ‘Age of Peace’, Salome hears her say. Only the ‘cooperation of all factions and the formation of the tridium’ had rendered them ‘triumphant against the heretics who would cast all into darkness.’ This time she cannot hold in the delicate laugh that ripples through her. If only the annual repetition of such statements made them true. If only they knew of the true origins of the War that brought this so-called peace, of where the credit should rightfully lie. Though she knows it would be foolish - more than foolish - Salome can think of nothing but how simple it would be to stand above all and confess. She’d let them savour the details of her sins and her glories. She would laugh as they wilted under the weight of her revelations.

‘I’ve never seen you look so engrossed off of the battlefield.’

Her imaginings are cut off by quiet words from behind her. She needs not turn to identify the voice of Ephemera, familiar as it has come to be. Salome had, of course, seen her across the crowd - when did her eyes start to automatically seek her out so? - but marked her presence as an occupation for later. That Ephemera sought her out first is not necessarily unexpected, but certainly thrilling. There is no other presence that can so easily bring Salome out of a petulant mood, just as there is no other who can so easily put her in one. But she has found that where there is Ephemera, there is entertainment to be had.

“You have not seen me do many things,” she replies easily, as if they had long been having this conversation, “though I do believe I’ve offered.” And she has, more than once, tried to entice her with offers of dancing and hunting and enjoying all the vices of the world they fought for. She turns her head slowly to meet the watchful gaze of her once fighting-partner, a smirk on her lips as she widens her eyes in faux-innocence. They are two alike; mortals once but mortals no more, the first of their kinds. She knows Ephemera will not rise to her bait within the presence of other Angels, which only heightens her simpering expression. Salome has no such qualms about the thoughts of her own kin; their talk excites her, their gossip only confirms how many pay her heed. She has found no simpler joy than that of walking into the Black Palace and leaving excited whispers in her wake.

“I’m sure you’ll agree that celebrating won wars is less fun than waging them’, she continues, amusement ringing clear through her voice as she returned her gage purposefully to the stage. “I asked Azazel if she might add some zeal - perhapsmake those hounds do some tricks - but she seems to have ignored my good wishes”. Salome can feel the rolling of Angelic eyes next to her without even looking. It was so easy, so predictable, and yet anything but boring. That was the real curiosity of Ephemera, so easy to reel in and yet so resistant to truly jumping off the edge. She seemed halfway caught between accepting Salome’s allure and running from it, and the resistance only increased her desire. “Though your one is the more dull, I believe. So earnest - it’s quite exhausting.”

It is clear that Ephemera is acting advisor and strategist rather than - what? Friend? Enemy? Something in between? - whichraised the question as to why she had approached her in the first place. She thinks to ask, but when she opens her mouth to do so the crowd erupts in an applause more loud than she thinks the show was worthy of. Still, she brings her own hands together for the sheer relief that it is finally over. Her feet ache from standing bored for so long, her wings want to stretch open and wide. She wonders if a large enough quantity of alcohol might loosen Ephemera a little, but when she turns to declare this she finds that her companion has disappeared in the movement of so many people. A pity, but no real matter. She has never needed the company of others to create her own sport.

EXTRAS

[ My (WIP) pinterest for Salome can be found here. ]

Salome keeps no animal companion, for she has never felt much love for the nature of the earth. She finds it amusing that some Angels and Demons belittle themselves by keeping one. However, it is not an uncommon sight to see Salome walking with crows flying above her. Only on closer inspection would one realise those animals are but corpses, a puppetry Salome (alone) finds humorous.

Like all parts of herself, she harbours great love for her wings, and not only for the damnation that they represent. They are formed of what resembles a netting of fine, golden spider’s web. They seem to constantly change in the light, appearing to be more transparent than they are solid. Regal and beautiful, they are as Salome sees herself.

She is a fierce fighter and a connoisseur of bloodshed. Her weapon of choice is a trailing point blade, forged on the day of her arrival in Hell. She uses it exclusively for more.. intimate situations, and favours instead a simple longsword on the battlefield. She is however, proficient with most weaponry, as the corpses she can make fight use the same weapons they died wielding against her.

Though Infernum is the home she helped carve out, Salome spends a great deal of time in Sanctus Terra and travels to Caelum whenever the opportunity presents itself. Both locations amplify an itch deep within her soul, worsening her desire and thereby bringing greater satisfaction when she finally acts on the urge. She has not spilled any angelic blood in Caelum, though the temptation is strong, for she knows Michael has become astute to her presence. She has left a fair few victims in Sanctus Terra, a pursuit which has become less satisfying overtime. Still, Salome is careful. For all their talk of kinship, she is not sure that her fellow demons would refrain from locking her in the Black Cells if they had just cause.

[ aaaaaaand I leave you with the last verse of ‘Salome’, a poem by Mary Lamb. I honestly can’t describe it as anything over then *chef’s kiss*. I don’t know if Rosey read this when she was writing Salome’s bio, but I thought the writing style and tone and vibe and all beautifully mirrored each other?? Stunning. On that note, regardless of whether of not you think I’m right for Salome, thank you for the obvious amount of time/thought you’ve all put into this because it’s been really (really) fun to explore. ]

When painters would by art express Beauty in unloveliness, Thee, Herodias’ daughter, thee, They fittest subject take to be. They give thy form and features grace; But ever in they beauteous face They shew a steadfast cruel gaze, An eye unpitying; and amaze In all beholders deep they mark, That thou betrayest not one spark Of feeling for the ruthless deed, That did thy praiseful dance succeed. For on the head they make you look, As if a sullen joy you took, A cruel triumph, wicked pride, That for your sport a saint had died.

#accepted #accepted: salome

[fykimtaehyung]

[ARTICLE] Break the Internet: BTS

PAPER: What's the greatest challenge you've faced as a group, and how did you overcome it?

RM: Seven grown men always staying close together and experiencing work and life at the same time means that we come face to face with numerous contradictions and differences. But I think we overcame that by working on understanding and caring for each other over time.

Suga: Seven men with different values living together was not easy. It was difficult for all of us to focus our thoughts on one single point, but looking back, they are all good memories.

J-Hope: There was a time when we fought each other quite a bit because we all came from different backgrounds and our personalities were so different. But we were able to overcome that after frequently talking to each other and living together for a long time. We now know what each of us are thinking just by looking at each other.

Jimin: Because each member was so different, I think it was hard for everyone to understand each other. But we didn't give up, and now we are a team where each member is irreplaceable.

Jungkook: When something I said or did caused an issue or made people feel disappointed, I realized that I should think twice before I do anything, and not forget where I am, no matter what situation I may be in.

If you could switch talents with one of your bandmates for 24 hours, who would you choose and why?

RM: I would like to dance like J-Hope just for one day. What would that feel like?

Jin: V's ability to memorize choreography. I want to say to RM, "Have you already forgotten [the moves]?"

Suga: RM — I want to be good at English.

J-Hope: Suga's amazing producing skills!!!

Jimin: J-Hope's smiley face. Looking at J-Hope, I think his smiley face is really adorable.

V: I want to borrow RM's brain and make a whole bunch of songs.

Jungkook: RM. I want to write really nice lyrics and have deeper thoughts.

Do you ever feel pressured, in the face of global fame, to present yourselves a certain way to the world? What do you do when you feel overwhelmed to be “perfect"?

RM: It would be untruthful if I said there was no pressure. Still, on stage I want to do really well.

Jin: I try to keep myself on the right lane.

Suga: I would not be telling the truth if I said there's no pressure. But what can you do? Pressure is also one part of life.

J-Hope: I can't say we don't. These days, I feel like I live with a sense of mission. Rather than thinking, “It has to be perfect!," I do what I have to do, making sure I remember the really important and fundamental things and trust that the results will follow.

Jimin: All things aside, I always think that I have to show a performance that is at least close to perfection for everyone who comes to see our performance.

V: I feel the pressure of showing a performance that is close to perfection, but I also think that being natural is important, too.

Jungkook: The pressure is always there. But I want to show them that I am improving.

Is there any advice you wish you could give your younger selves?

RM: If you're debating whether to go or not, go.

Jin: Jin, study English!

Suga: Please study English.

J-Hope: When things get tough, look at the people who love you! You will get energy from them.

Jimin: Silence is golden. Don't waste time.

V: You worked hard! [Pat on the back.]

Jungkook: Don't lose the people beside you because of your mistakes and wrongs. And live [your life] to the fullest.

You recently took an extended vacation in order to rest and get some relaxation after a long span of releases and promotions. How did you spend your vacation?

RM: I slept, worked out and went to art museums quite a lot. I went to Jeju Island, Venice, Vienna and Copenhagen.

Jin: I played games at home. I also went fishing with Suga.

Suga: I focused on resting and worked on some songs. It was a time [for] looking back at myself.

J-Hope: I went to film the music video for "Chicken Noodle Soup." I felt and learned a lot of things! I can't call it a rest time, but it was a meaningful time. After that, I came back home, I had good food and rested well. I also played with my puppy.

Jimin: I just kept on the move and went to a bunch of places. It was an opportunity to think about [the group] in the past and in the future.

V: I took a good rest. It was an eat-play-sleep routine.

Jungkook: I worked on music.

Are there any music styles you haven't tried yet as a group that you're excited to dip into in the future?

RM: I want to show our various sides that reflect the progression of our age as well as our emotions and sensibilities.

Jin: I want to try something in the genre of rock. I think it will come out great because our members are pretty charismatic.

Suga: There are so many I don't know which one to say. There's plenty of things to show you, so please look forward to it.

J-Hope: Now it feels like BTS is just BTS. Whichever [style of] music or performance, it comes out in BTS style.

Jimin: There are so many things I want to try, but I don't want to be too specific about it.

V: I want to try doing music in the style of Conan Gray or "All Tinted."

Jungkook: It's different from time to time. I just hope I can widen my vocal spectrum regardless of what that might be.

Your fans, ARMY, are one of the most passionate, mobilized music fanbases in the world, especially on social media. How would you define what makes your fanbase so special?

BTS: It's an honor that people around the world love our music and messages. It seems like there's no language barrier. We think that ARMY helped us spread our music across the world. All of this would have not been possible without ARMY.

Another theme in your music is dreams. With all the heaviness of the world today, do you think dreams help people find meaning and ambition to move forward amid uncertain times?

RM: We just hope that we can be of help. We did say that you don't have to dream, but living a life without dreams or hope would be quite dim, wouldn't it? I think everyone needs motivation and milestones in order to move. Whatever that may be, we want to be of help, even a little, for them to move forward.

So many of your dreams have come true since you'd made your debut: No. 1 albums around the world, sold-out stadium tours, Grammys and U.S. award shows, becoming the first Korean music group to perform on Saturday Night Live…What new dreams have sparked for each of you now that you have these accomplishments crossed off the list?

RM: I want to head in a straight path without losing sight of what I feel now. [I want to] keep our passion burning bright and walk straight.

Jin: I talk to Producer Bang quite often about how we should work together for a happy life. How to live happily...I think about that frequently.

Suga: I would like to have a hobby since I never had one. I would love to have a lifelong hobby.

J-Hope: To stay healthy! So that we can keep doing what we're doing now!!!

Jimin: I know that many people are cheering for us for who we are now. I think about how those people would love seeing our new, better music and performances. What I'm trying to say is, my dream is to show them more performances and better music for a long, long time.

V: They're not new dreams, but dreams that we never imagined could achieve. I'd like to keep them going.

Jungkook: I wouldn't want anything more than to keep doing music and performances just like now.

What do you hope to get better at or improve upon?

RM: Dancing! And knowing "myself."

Jin: I hope that the team always gets along and everyone is happy.

Suga: Without a question, English.

J-Hope: Our team's health! And happiness! They are the path to growth!

Jimin: I want to be good at what I am currently doing.

V: I want to widen my spectrum and become an artist who has a variety of talents.

Jungkook: If I had a chance to improve every aspect of myself, then I would work hard to make it happen rather than just sitting idly by.

Your fans, ARMY, are one of the most passionate, mobilized music fanbases in the world. How would you define what makes your fanbase so special?

BTS: It's an honor that people around the world love our music and messages. It seems like there's no language barrier. We think that ARMY helped us spread our music across the world. All of this would have not been possible without ARMY.

What music is exciting you right now? What's on your personal playlists?

RM: I'm listening to Post Malone's latest album.

Jin: Taylor Swift's “ME!" The song has a bright energy, so my mood is lifted when I listen to it. I want to try that kind of music, too.

Suga: Post Malone's “Circles."

J-Hope: I listen to older songs these days: The Fugees' “Killing Me Softly" and Cheryl Lynn's “Got to Be Real."

Jimin: I prefer songs that fill me with emotions. Nowadays, I listen to our song “Jamais Vu."

V: I'm listening to DaBaby's new album.

Jungkook: I'm listening to Jang Beom June's songs these days.

What did it mean for your album to be nominated at the 2019 Grammy Awards for Best Recording Package?

BTS: It truly was an honor. We were happy to be invited as presenters to such a big show, with such great musicians. We also became members of the Recording Academy this year. We hope to be invited to the show next year as well.

The importance and power of “loving yourself" is a cornerstone of the BTS message, in your lyrics, speeches, music videos and beyond. But when and how did the notion of self-love become something you were all so passionate about?

BTS: Our LOVE YOURSELF series bears the message that “loving yourself is the beginning of true love." The “love" that we aim to convey can be both the individual experience and a message to our society today. We once saw somewhere that “being able to love is also an ability. If you don't love yourself, you can never love anyone else." Reflecting on the ways you love yourself, we thought that this question could give the answer for many different aspects. We wanted to focus on that searching process and find the answers. [We] think LOVE YOURSELF has a positive impact. [We] also ask ourselves, “Do I really love myself?" So, [we] looked back one more time and put that notion into the lyrics.

What are the key differences in performing for audiences back home vs. elsewhere in the world?

BTS: Fans all over the world are cheering for us. We get on stage with the mindset to give them the best performance. Every occasion to meet our fans is important and meaningful.

How has social media and the Internet impacted the way you're able to reach listeners?

BTS: We like communicating with our fans. We communicated [with them online] even before our debut. Fans enjoy it and so do we. Our Weverse app was launched recently, which is a platform for our fans. We can see their messages and leave comments there. We feel that the whole world is truly connected as one through social media. Language is not a big barrier anymore, and we think that with good music, sincere messages and the effort to communicate, fans from all around the world will show their love.

What can you share about any upcoming new music?

BTS: We are currently practicing and working on new songs so we can show you the best sides of ourselves. Please look forward to it.

#191120 #taehyung #v #bts #bangtan #t: interview #t: article

[honhonluigi]

I say we take a second to appreciate the positive. The writing of DR is a shitshow, yeah, but what are your favorite things about the series?

Honestly, I like some of the writing in DR. If it was all just terrible writing, then I wouldn’t play the game. It’d be the anime all over again-- nothing but terrible writing and horrible characters and I’d just avoid it like the plague. Nah for the most part, I think the writing is pretty good. The plot is a really interesting concept. The lore about Despair is fucking stupid, but the backstory of Hope’s Peak is good, and the Kamukura Project is great. The fact that Hope’s Peak’s own hubris and cruelty and ambition is the thing that eventually brought them down is a really good twist. The individual characters are written well, including the way they interact with each other. There’s just a few characters/relationships that are written horribly that stick out: Maki, Chiaki, KaiMaki, Junko, Shuichi. And they stick out because they’re written so horribly compared to the rest of the game. The same writing is also responsible for characters like Nagito, Hajime, Izuru, Kokichi, Kaede, Celeste, Kyoko, Makoto...And that just baffles me. How can you write characters that are so fun and interesting, and then shove these horrible Mary-Sues down my throat? (Fanservice! That’s how! Fanservice is the devil of all fictional media!) 

But my favorite things about the series-- 

1. The characters. This is DR’s absolute strongest point. If I don’t like the characters in something, then I’m never going to enjoy it, no matter how interesting the lore or plot is. I love the majority of characters in DR, and the ones that I hate vehemently are the ones that actively strive to ruin the story with their awful writing. Other than them, the rest of the characters are good. They’re consistent, they’re solid, they’re interesting, they’re fun to learn about and interact with (even if their backstories are wtf???? sometimes). I hate Byakuya, but he’s written well. He makes sense as a character and he serves his function. Same with Hiyoko. So I still don’t view those characters as ‘negatives’, because they’re well-written, and I don’t dread it when they speak. They’re fun to hate. Every piece of media needs someone you can hate. Most of the characters are super fun and interesting. I love seeing content of them, hearing them speak, learning more about them, etc. I would never have played the games if I hadn’t liked the characters. Plus, I find more and more that I like large-cast media because there’s so much more opportunity for character. You get such a large ensemble of different personalities and it’s fun. Plus, if you have a bunch of completely different people, the odds are more likely that I’ll love at least one. Whereas in most main-character + love interest focused media, I hate both the MC and LI, and so the whole thing is ruined for me. In large-cast media, I can hate the main character and/or their lover, but love the rest of the cast and go through it for them. 

2. The plot. The backstory and plot surrounding Despair is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. Completely unbelievable. Outlandish. Ridiculous. But, the plot as a concept is really fun. The idea of the killing game and being trapped there and having nothing to do but make friends or kill each other leaves so much room for character growth and fun drama. It’s like those “mysterious mansion dinner party murder” books but better. And the backstory and plot surrounding Hope’s Peak is actually fairly decent, and interesting, if you take the ‘Despair’ bits away from it. 

3. The moral ambiguity. This might not be DR’s strongest appeal to people, but it is the most important thing to me in any piece of media. I need moral ambiguity. I can’t get interested in a piece of fiction if there’s absolutely no sense of moral ambiguity at all. If it’s just black-and-white “good hero defeats evil villain”! Then I’m going to be bored and angry and I’ll never read/watch/play it. There’s nothing I despise more than black-and-white hero stories. I need moral ambiguity. It’s a theme that I prize above everything else in fiction. I need my fiction to reflect the greyness of the real world. That real people aren’t good or evil, they just have motives and they act on those motives according to their personalities. That no one is good or bad; bad people do good things, good people do bad things, etc. DR2 is literally that theme, tied up in a nice little bow. None of the characters are ‘good people’ after Despair (except the little Mary Sue!!!), but they all are shown to be worthy of life and friendship and love anyway. They show that they can do good things as well. Plus, there’s the theme of all the murders being “for good reasons”, and you have to decide for yourself if that’s true or not. And the question of “are they really evil for committing a murder when they were forced to by threat of Monokuma?” Hajime is the closest thing we get to a morally ambiguous protag, and that’s why I love him. Makoto is definitely a ‘good person’, but his character isn’t used to preach some moral theme about goodness. He falls in love with Kyoko, who’s the second shadiest person in the cast. And he’s best friends with Sayaka, who is the shadiest person in the cast. And he defends them, even when they do bad things. This theme right here, about being allowed to do bad things and have it be recognized by the writing and other characters, is what separated Sayaka from Chiaki for me. It’s why I like one and hate the other. 

This is also why I hate Shuichi. His character is used for nothing but toting around this moral stance of Kaito’s black-and-white good-and-evil “belief”. Shuichi’s character arc outright destroys any of the moral ambiguity in DRV3. And this is a huge part of why I hate Junko. She’s just a purely evil villain with no other personality and no motives. She has no opportunity to show ANY good traits at all. She’s just pure evil, for evil’s sake. Literally. And honestly, this also serves to make Chiaki more obnoxious too. Being the only faultless one in a cast full of ex-terrorists? Fucking lame. And the writing portrays her like she’s a perfect angel hero, who never does anything wrong (even though she does a lot of selfish, shitty things in the game and she’s a horrible person too), because of course! you’re not allowed to hate Mary Sues. There can’t be any such thing as flaws in a Mary Sue, and they can’t do anything wrong, otherwise you’d have a valid reason to hate them! And you can’t hate them because they’re the best character!!!! Anyway, you might be thinking “how come you hate Maki? She’s the definition of moral ambiguity!” Nah bro, she’s the definition of denial and hypocrisy. She and everyone else ignore and deny and cover up all the bad shit she does and insist that she’s a “good person” for absolutely no reason. She never shows any good sides. Then she and everyone else go around talking down to and hating every other cast member for being “bad” when idk?? They’re not fucking serial killers so I’d say they’re better off. And we’re not allowed to acknowledge her flaws or hate her for them, because it’s all part of her tragic backstory!!! 

#Although I guess I can't talk about anime plots in context #Because I'm not Japanese and I don't have their culture #And I have it on a very good source that their culture greatly affects the plots and villains and backstories they come up with #So of course I'm not going to understand it properly #But that doesn't mean I have to like it #Someday I will write an in-depth review of all the DR games and characters #and maybe a hate-piece about the anime too