#Some things might be a bit less detailed because i wanted to focus on bigger shapes as opposed to intricate detail

[medicalunprofessional]

the phoenix

[synnthamonsugar]

My issue with D2 isn't that it's bad.

Bad media can be, and frequently is, fun, strange, shocking, thought-provoking, entertaining. Bad media often has things to say (even if not said clearly), it's often heartfelt in ways that bigger and more-polished productions cannot be since it's more likely to be the brainchild of an individual or small team instead of a committee of writers working under tight managerial control.

Even through its better-crafted plot beats, I think Destiny (counting both games together here) has often felt bad to me. I say this with utmost love and respect. There are limits to its model of storytelling, and there have always been plot holes, strange bits of characterization, setups without payoffs, weird dialog, gameplay-narrative dissonance, etc. and I think it's easy to focus so much on the high points in its history that we forget that being bad isn't atypical for Destiny, and that this is fine!

The issue is, it used to be that even when it was bad it was genuine, meticulously detailed, oozing with character and heart in every line and lore tab, had bits of world-building and background that made me desperate to know more. It was a rambling story from a friend, who might not have a point but they're so into telling it that it becomes the most interesting thing in the world to listen to. I think, for much of Destiny's history, you could feel Bungie was putting their whole back into it, that the creators made it with love and care. It was impossible not to get invested in return, even when it was a little corny.

The issue is, it doesn't feel like that anymore. It feels like something that's being made because it's contractually obligated. It feels like something neither Bungie nor the creative team wants to put effort into, and I frankly cannot blame the creative team given what we know is going on behind the scenes. That doesn't make it less disappointing or frustrating - in fact it might make it worse because I can't help but see it as something being made under a level of duress. (More than the typical level, for anything made in capitalism.) But it certainly explains why.

And of course, given we know they're trying to make the bottom line there's always the question of how much executive meddling is affecting the story. I definitely have qualms with some of the narrative team, but I do wonder what Destiny would look like today without the stress of meeting sales goals and deadlines.

I think you can sort bad media into roughly two buckets. There's the good-bad media, the kind I talked about, the passion projects bristling with heart and character and vision if nothing else. Then there's the bad-bad ones, the ones that were produced to make a paycheck, be consumed and forgotten ...

My (rhetorical) question is: why should I care about something whose creators don't care about it? If something is a cynical cash grab, how can I feel anything but cynicism toward it?

[shimmerbeasts]

So, I gave this situation a lot of thought and given that it is the end of the year, that marks the ideal time frame to basically reshape the way, I wanna handle the blog and my muses, going forward. These changes include how my roster functions, certain limitations I am going to give myself, concerning the amount of drafts I have, and changes in verses and some alterations on the ask box. Basically, quality instead of quantity is going to be the name of the game, so hopefully, I can better organise my hobbies and interests and hopefully also my eventual career as an author.

That means first of all: Every single thread I have is dropped. I want a completely clean slate thread-wise, however, dynamics, which we established, can absolutely carry over. I am not gonna flush all the hard work, I did with so many of you (you are all amazing) down the drain.

Now, onto what changes. Let's start with the formal bullshit. I am going to limit myself to twenty drafts and try to adhere to this limit. Those drafts will preferably be plotted. That way, I hopefully can avoid getting overwhelmed, but also really dig into the meat of our threads.

That does not mean casual stuff or crack does not happen. It can still happen, but it will occur with less frequency and those things likely won't carry over much. If I happen to send you an rp related meme, then please just have fun with the drabble. I will try to limit how much I continue those threads.

When it comes to my ask box, I will prioritise unprompted asks and scenarios over rp memes. However, I will always accept headcanon-related memes or memes for me the writer. Again, all these changes will be done to limit the effects of being overwhelmed and to keep my rps at a manageable medium.

When it comes to my verses, I am going to do a massive cut in what types of verses I have. Specifically, I am going to stick to the verses, which basically form a narrative throughline. For most verses, this will basically be the pre-canon, the default and the post-canon verse. Ergo the past, present and future of a muse. This is done so I can focus on what I wanna explore instead of spreading myself too thin. After all, it is better to explore an idea and its ramifications in detail as opposed to expanding and adding five half-baked ideas at once.

My muse roster will have a bit of an update on its purpose. Because of the fact that I will lean even more into the concept of storytelling and character development, the split between primary, secondary and tertiary muses still exists. Except, there is going to be a crucial change now. The tertiary muses will now be rebranded as supports and are not technically muses on the blog. Let me explain what I mean.

Because of my desire to be more story-driven, certain characters will serve as the supporting cast for other muses. These characters help propel the plot forward but also give your muse a different perspective on the muse they roleplay with. They might also reveal information, you would not get otherwise. Think of them a bit like NPCs but due to the big role, they play in the muse's life or what they represent for the muse, they have a bigger chance of emerging. Your muses might even meet them before they meet the actual muse. There will also be other classical NPCs, which your muse might meet under very specific circumstances.

Now onto the actual muse roster:

My primary muses (who will be focussed on the whole Zaunite lore and story) are going to be Silco, Jinx and Vi. They are the ones, whose plotting will come the most naturally and easiest for me. Their supports are Sevika and Warwick/Vander.

My secondary muses (who have different thematic stories and lore as they occur outside of Zaun/Piltover) will be Naafiri and Ahri. Writing them might potentially require a bit more plotting and forethought. Naafiri's supporting characters will be Nasus and Rek'Sai. Ahri's supporting characters will be Yasuo, Evelynn and to a lesser extent Vayne.

I hope that these changes I am making will lessen some self-made stressors. Again, I do apologise for basically dropping everything right now. I promise, I still want to write with everybody here. I just need to sort out how I wanna make things work. So please, everybody do not be intimidated by those changes. I promise, that my enthusiasm for writing and roleplaying remains unbroken.

[shadowed-dancer]

Thoughts on Episode 118 (S6 E5)

Cool capes, BBQed birds, and devastating destruction. Let’s talk about it

Spoilers for the episode, as well as some very light spoilers for the manga. I'll put them at the end an label them though so people can stop reading

0/10 rating, they cut my beloved Wash. Unacceptable. Truly the worst and most egregious change the anime has ever made in the history of all 6 seasons. Unknown if it will ever recover

(Real talk I kind of understand. They made a point of saying everyone was evacuated, so showing that would have just been confusing. Good on them for catching little details like that)

Aside from that, this episode was really good! The animation was so pretty in this one (it’s been great all season so far but this one in particular was really nice.)

Regarding pacing, I was surprised to find this episode only adapted 2.5 chapters (I forgot that panel of Shigaraki on the phone wasn't how the chapter ended lol). Despite this entire season having a fair bit of filler per episode (especially with the jumps to that observation room) I've found the filler to be pretty non-offensive. This episode is the same, it felt like it moved at a healthy pace. Plus, all the episodes end on great moments, so that's a wonderful and effective use of filler content!

rip X-Less, you existed for the sole purpose of Tomura getting a kick-ass cape. A noble mission. His fans solute you

That scene where Mirko stands up while Endeavor protects her... why was it so smooth? Was that just me? Like those 3 seconds looked better than most of MVA lol

Random: but the noise Komori makes when Fat Gum kicks the kids out is so cute

Yay! Geten got a proper face reveal!

”Everyone believes you did the right thing!” Tokoyami has clearly never had to read the discourse that happened when that chapter came out

I wish they had put a little more focus on Crust’s death and how he specifically saved Aizawa. It’s fine as is, but I feel like they could have made the impact bigger. Hori had the talent of making people mourn him (a very minor character) and I wish that energy had stuck around

The crosswalk thing right before the destruction was so awesome. I got chills lol

I know there was a little rearranging this episode (showing the lab before showing Dabi, Deku's inner voice warning originally being somewhere else) but I think everything worked well. Again, it's an instance of how some changes can work better for their respective mediums

Despite the unforgivable lack of Wash, the scenes of the heroes reacting to decay was so well done. I’m a sucker for what I call “chaos scenes” (meaning any scene where characters are in a state of panic while chaos unfurls around them) and that was definitely a good one. Burnin screaming on the phone, the kids panicking compared to how mundane everything had been, Todoroki rushing in to save Deku, it’s all so good

Manga Spoilers

Regarding next week, I sincerely hope they add that one “bonus scene” from the volume extras (the one where Compress activates dad mode)

Seeing Tokoyami’s reaction to Hawks killing Twice lowkey irked me because it hasn’t been brought up since. I understand him wanting to be kind when he thinks Hawks might literally die in his arms, but we have NEVER returned to Tokoyami expressing his thoughts about this situation. Seeing it again just made me remember “Hmm, yeah that goes no where”. Maybe one day the manga will talk about it

[plot-prominent-horde-squad-au]

Lonnie: Arc, Personality, Role, and Other Changes (Pt. 2)

So here’s my previous post. Have you read that?

.....Good. Anyways, continuing from there...

Personality (Additions)

There’s a few extra details I forgot to mention about Lonnie’s personality in the last post, but I don’t feel like editing it, so here they are.

As you might be able to slightly see, Lonnie takes pretty much everything very seriously, and tries to act mature. She wants to rise in the ranks, so she chooses to focus really hard on her work make herself seem like a dedicated soldier.

But around some of her squadmates and those she’s closest to, Lonnie can reveal a slightly playful and sarcastic side to her personality. She likes to tease her friends and hold banter with them, mostly through deadpan snark, though she may not always realize when people find it hurtful, as meaner comments are common in the Horde, so she assumes her comments are more harmless.

But when she’s not in that kind of mood, she’s serious and focused to a fault.

Role

In this AU, as with the other HS members, Lonnie will play a much bigger role than she did in canon. As mentioned in the intro, she will become a bit of a Right Hand Woman to Catra, and while Scorpia is Catra’s Second in Command, she trusts Lonnie to actually get things done. This is how she becomes a minor reoccuring antagonist in a lot of more episodic episodes.

Lonnie is established to be a close friend of Adora’s, and a rival to Catra (at first). But after Adora leaves and Catra gets promoted, Lonnie confronts her rival teammate and makes a deal with her; let Lonnie join your inner circle as a commanding officer, and she’ll help you with anything you want, whether it be missions, continuing to rise in the ranks, or getting revenge on Adora, she’ll help. Catra agrees to these terms, and they become allies.

In this AU, Lonnie is the third member of the Super Pal Trio, rather than Entrapta, who will be doing her own thing. Lonnie will often be involved in a lot of Catra’s schemes, though Catra’s mistreatment of her in Season 4 will stay the same and she’ll realize that the friend she grew up with is no longer a friend or even a rival. She’s just a plain ol’ bitch.

This is when Lonnie begins to assist in destroying the Horde from the inside, a bit of a parallel to how Double Trouble was trying to destroy the Princess Alliance from the inside, but Lonnie isn’t quite connected to the Rebellion. She makes her own team.

Speaking of parallels, Lonnie shall also be a foil to a few characters: Glimmer (maybe, though I’m starting to question that decision), Catra, Scorpia (a little), and Kyle (also a little).

Originally, the plan was to make Lonnie one of Glimmer’s foils, but that might change. If she stays Glimmer’s foil, here’s what they will have in common/how they will parallel each other: they both became leaders after losing a parental figure, and are now learning how to be good leaders while dealing with grief and trauma; in Season 4, Glimmer will start having conflict with Adora, while Lonnie will be having conflict with Catra. That’s all I have rn for them.

A better foil I have for Lonnie is actually Catra because the dynamic the two had in the show was really interesting, and this AU just intensifies that. They start out as rivals, but in Season 2, they decide to put aside their rivalry in order to work together as gaslighting gatekeeping girlfriends girlbosses. They bounce off each other a lot, and are low-key friends, but then Season 4 happens, and their dynamic changes to how it was during Season 4 in the show.

They have two very different personalities that get more and more similar overtime (or maybe they were always similar...) while still remaining very different. Early in the series, Catra is ‘lazy’, mischevious, fun loving, and with a very loose and ‘unplanned’ fighting style. Meanwhile, Lonnie is very poised and reserved, focused less on being quick and sharp, like daggers, and more on being sturdy and blunt, like a hammer. She focuses in on her work, and tries to hide her playful side, presenting herself as a responsible adult. Catra is big and brash, while Lonnie is quiet and formal. Catra’s anger is worn on her sleeve, while Lonnie’s is rarely seen.

The two start out as what appears to be opposites, but as time drags on, their similarities become more and more apparent. They are both clever and cunning, with very strategic minds that usually have a plan at all times, even when they seem to be ‘improvising.’ They are good at manipulation and mind games, even though they use those skills different amounts and for different reasons. They are both willing to toe the line morally when deemed necessary.

In Season 4, they’re differences begin showing again, and each shows what the other could have been, since they have slightly similar minds and similar experiences with abuse (though Catra’s is admittedly ‘more extreme’). If not for Shadow Weaver and the portal incident, Catra could have separated from the Horde and even made her own side, ending the war through simply taking away some of the players. She could have gone down a slightly better path, but her need for power, approval, and revenge took over her, turning her into a monster.

If not for the portal incident and and early wake up call, Lonnie could have been the cold, uncaring, power-hungry person Catra became. She could have just as easily gone down a dark path. In fact, she nearly did, but Catra’s extremism and her decision to work through her trauma rather than let it control her led her down a better path.

Catra is an example of how abuse can make someone choose to hurt others, while Lonnie is an example of how abuse can make someone want to help others. I love the dynamic I’m working on for them.

Lonnie and Scorpia shall be its own fun dynamic, and minor foils to each other. They will also be in a lot of episodes together, specifically episodes I’m creating that are made to expand upon supporting characters. These episodes will be a bit like “Roll With It”, but without the main trio there and with more character building stuff.

Scorpia is still higher-ranking than Lonnie, but has no idea how to lead. Lonnie is a bit lower ranking, but is a pretty good leader who knows what she is doing. Their dynamic is basically like how it was in the show, but if there were more episodes to build on their friendship because I love their banter.

One thing that makes them foils is their relationship with Catra in the later seasons. Lonnie is someone who realizes they are being mistreated, while Scorpia is in denial. Like in the show, Lonnie will at some point tell Scorpia “when will you wake up?!” because Scorpia still wants to make excuses. Part of their dynamic story-wise is how they play off Catra in different ways, and how Catra’s relationships with people work.

----

Okay, this post is getting long. I will make a part 3 (maybe more), then I will move onto Kyle. Or I might also put out some Kyle posts while also putting out these Lonnie posts. Who knows. Please be patient though.

[equizona]

Note: Since my ask box is empty, I decided to write this idea. I thought it would be an interesting approach. If you guys would like to see the dateables then tell me! (ALSO MY ASK BOX IS OPEN!)

Scenario: Obey Me! where the MC is a character in an otome game.

Fandom(s): Obey Me!

Character(s): Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor,

Warning(s): Light angst?

Lucifer[Avatar of Pride]

He probably just passed by Leviathan when he was playing the game, and your design caught his attention.

He refuses to let ANYONE know he plays the game, and his fondness of a fictional character will be taken to his grave.

He has ALL of your cards, no exceptions on the rule, and he's quite proud about it.

He probably has your set outfit be a more formal one? If there is a card where you're dressed in more formal setting that would probably be his favorite too.

Acts like he has no idea who you are whenever any of his brothers talk about you.

Surprisingly, none of his brothers know that he plays the game. Satan is a tiny bit suspicious because of his detective skills, but nothing is confirmed.

He's rich as shit so he has no problem using real money on special items for you, and if there's any items that give special dialog he WILL get his hands on it no matter what it takes, trust me.

Won't be able to answer any calls he gets from you all the time, but whenever he does he'll just relax to the sound if your voice.

Will give donations to whoever is your voice actor don't testhim—

Mammon[Avatar of Greed]

He likes to pretend that he isn't your fan but everyone can see right through him–

Will never miss any of your phone calls, they are the light of his life, like, seriously.

Will use actual money to get you the items, he just wants you to be happy.

Whenever you give him an item he goes over the moon, giving his phone this super cute giddy smile.

Whenever he gets an action during the surprise guests wrong he wants to cry, he doesn't want you to get angry at him.

Will get lots of items that are themed around you, and will probably grab anything he sees that holds even the slightest resemblance to you.

If you have a theme song then it is 100% his ringtone, no that is not up for debate.

Whenever he gets sad he'll play a phone call and just listen to your voice.

Leviathan[Avatar of Envy]

Ah yes, the king of being a fictional character simp.

He's the one who found the game, which set in motion the action of everyone adoring you.

You think he likes the lord of shadows? Henry? Ruri-chan? If so, then I don't want to tell you how bad he's got it for you.

He has ALL of your cards, haste highest level of your intimacy, knows all of your dialog by heart by now.

He has all merch that is even remotely related to you, and your theme song would also be his ringtone and alarm.

He cosplays you for sure.

Has a body pillow that he would bring to prom no questions asked.

Is your number 1 fan, and he gets involved with anything that is involved with you.

Will not stands any slander on your name and has only positive things to say about you.

Sometimes gets super sad that you aren't real but he'll get over it the next time he gets a phone call from you.

Satan[Avatar of Wrath]

Honestly he was not ready to end up liking a dating game so much, but here he is.

He'll just kind of have you on the screen on his phone while he reads aloud wishing that you were real–

Whenever he gets upset or angry he'll take his phone out and see if there's anything related to you that he can do to calm down.

Really likes playing the events and is always super excited to see what the next one will be about.

Get's super angry each time someone other than you is a surprise guest, it just really passes him off for some reason?

Will suck up every single detail about yourself that is given to him, he knows your character better than the writers do at this point.

If your character likes books he's even happier!

Has a suspicion that Lucifer knows and likes your character but he can't confirm anything.. yet.

He's getting there don't worry, and he'll be telling you every step on that plan–

Asmodeus[Avatar of Lust]

He doesn't have as much as Leviathan does, but he has have some of your merchandise.

Definitely has a keychain of you on his phone. He isn't embarrassed, he likes your character almost as much as he likes himself!

Because of him the game has a way bigger fandom than it used to do, many wanting to know what got the Asmodeus so hooked.

He defiantly paints his nails themed around you, as well as his make-up. coming up with fun designs on both make-up looks and his nails themed around you is his favorite thing ever.

If he sees any outfit of your character that he really likes he will get it!

Bases some of his outfits on you as well!

Likes to make jewelry and other accessories that would fit your aesthetic too!

Whenever he's doing his beauty routine he'll either be talking about random things to his phone with you and the screen, or he'll be listening to a phone call or a theme song.

Beelzebub[Avatar Gluttony]

Sweet boy probably only downloaded the game when he realized that three of his siblings(Levi, Satan and Asmo, they are the only ones brave enough to show how much they like you) enjoyed the game and he wanted something to talk to them about!

He didn't really know which character his siblings liked but he immediately took a liking to you.

He spends real money to get food for you to eat since he doesn't want you to be hungry.

Listents to your phone-calls while he eats or before a game so that he can hype himself up.

Sometimes likes to play music while he works out and your song is on ALL OF HIS PLAYLISTS–

When he realized that you were his brothers favorite character too, he was super excited, listening to all of Levi's rants about you.

Since Asmo dles everyone's nails he might sometime ask him to make his nails a bit different and theme them around you.

Whenever he can't sleep or has had a nightmare, he'll try and refrain from eating everything in the kitchen and instead opens the app to talk with you.

Belphegor[Avatar of Sloth]

Remembers Leviathan talking about you and the game, and since he was feeling really fucking lonely in the attic he downloaded it and gave it a try.

Your character was a huge comfort to him, especially since he remembered that Beel liked your character as well.

If your character is human it might have helped him calm down from his hatred a tiny bit. Not a lot, but a bit.

Will talk about the stars with you whenever he can, even if he knows you can't actually hear him.

Will listen to your phonecalls or songs whenever he goes to sleep, which is quite often lmao.

He has really good luck and somehow has all of your really rare cards!

He's super smug about that.

He doesn't level a lot of your cards up though, since he's too lazy to actually focus a lot on the story line. He mainly likes your character from what he's seen in chats.

When content with you starts running low he'll just quickly go through some seasons so that he can have comfort from you–

You made him feel a lot less lonely when he was in the attic

[itsnothingofinterest]

Something I think worth mentioning about villain redemptions is, in addition to people just liking the characters; one reason the villain fans want redemptions for the League is that their redemptions would almost certainly signify the addressing & remedy of serous systemic issues that have affected many characters and aspects of the series, and have been felt since the first line of the series.

It’s no secret that the world of HeroAca is plagued with systemic issues rooted in inequality, corruption, and the gross mishandling of quirks among other things. These have affected both villains like Shigaraki, Dabi, Toga, & Spinner, and hero students like Izuku, Shoto, Shinsou, & Shoji. However while the students’ character focus is, on average, about how to overcome these hurdles to become good heroes and what kind of heroes that makes them; the villains’ character focus is more on what to actually do about the systemic issues they were never able to just overcome, and so are attempting to tackle full force. In other words, the handling of the villains is seemingly going to be directly tied and inversely correlated to the handling of those systemic issues and, in turn, just how many problems are really going to be solved in the aftermath and not rear their heads again..

The Problems

It’s like this: people often like to compare BNHA to Avatar: The Last Airbender (probably because of Todoroki’s resemblance to Zuko, even though his position is more like a less Azula-ish Azula, but that’s beside the point), and have even made comparisons between Shigaraki & Dabi and Ozai. Now that’s more than a bit weird, but we’re gonna role with that to explain something.

See, the thing about Ozai is, he was in a position of power; a position from which he and the last 2 Fire Lords had effectively caused all of the problems. And the reason they did that was basically just because they were arrogant; they thought the Fire Nation was better than everywhere else. Meanwhile; the Gaang had Zuko, the next in line to the throne who had been enlightened by his travels about the values of the other nations & how wrong the Fire Nation’s way of doing things was. The Gaang new if they defeat Ozai & Azula, he gets that position of power and will cease all the problems arising from it. For them, that part of the plan was simple: defeat the big bad = no more problems.

For Shigaraki & the League, it’s no where near that easy. See, while they have acquired power in various forms; they’re really just average joes picked off the street. Naturally occurring misanthropes produced by societal failures like oppression, abuse, inequality, prejudice, corruption, and other such topics. Heck, Jin’s name means ‘humanity’; both as in compassion, but also as in a face in the crowd (or rather the entire crowd). And Shigaraki even once compared them all to maggots crawling out of the trash piles the heroes swept under the rug. And you aren’t gonna accomplish much just squashing the maggots; they’re just gonna keep coming faster & faster as the piles get bigger & bigger, and even without a League we’d just see more Kaminos, Fukuokas, Daikas, & Jakus. The thing they need to address is the trash piles, the issues in society, in order to actually stop the problems.

The Easy-Yet-Hard Solutions

“Well, okay,” you might say, “but can’t those societal problems get addressed and the villains still get killed or jailed for life, as are the consequence for their actions?” Well technically yes, that is possible, but the problem is it would be a very, very, very hard sell to the audience.

For one; not many on the heroes’ side see these things as problems. To most of them, the biggest problem in society is that it needs more All Might. Not to say there’s no one in the country who thinks society needs to change...but there is the slight hurdle that a good number of them joined the PLF, and are presumably headed off to Death Row for association with Shigaraki. (You may think that’s an extreme assumption, but Kurogiri got worse for very similar crimes.) This doesn’t exactly discount our heroes tackling all those root issues we discussed; but, well, it’s a bit hard to believe the heroes might try to change society in accordance with the wishes of people we assume they’ll just think of as enemies until the end. (Especially regarding the necessary changes that might inconvenience the heroes.)

What’s more, the villains most directly represent the victims of those issues, so it’s hard to separate their treatment from the handling of those issues. There’s just some dissonance in the idea he heroes would be like “In our pursuit of justice, we shall ensure no hero has the power to abuse their family any more, and shall hold heroes accountable for any breaches of the law they commit. But as a separate matter, screw Dabi. Life in prison for him and he’s (debatably) lucky we’re not killing him. Endeavor of course shall walk free because he’s trying to change, and he’s gone through so much, and he means so much to us.” Like I said, that’s a hard sell. It gives off the impression that the heroes are just doing what they’ve always been doing, which conflicts with the idea that they’re then going to change things.

The Hard-Yet-Easy Solutions

Conversely, if the villains get redeemed and end up working with the heroes; societal restructuring to remedy those systemic root causes of villainy are all but guaranteed. They know better than most what problems there are in society, seem to have thought pretty hard on how to fix them or what alternative systems could be installed, and have no reason to be coy about any of that. The heroes, conversely, tend to have the faith in humanity to think they can better the world without needing any acts of terrorism, and the societal sway to then actually do it. Or at least will acquire that sway, if we’re assuming the UA students are gonna end up doing most of the leg work on this.

In short, each side has about half of what’s really needed to guarantee a societal remedy that’ll ensure we don’t get any more naturally occurring Shigarakis, Dabis, & Togas; and in turn that we don’t end up right back where we are now eventually.

It’s not quite accurate to say they need to work together on this; both sides could accomplish this restructuring on their own. But with the heroes, it’s highly questionable if they’d even think to change things if they get the chance, and how how hard they’d really try if they did; and with the villains we know they’d put their all into it, but it would incur massive costs in human life. If the villains get redeemed though, and the two sides work together on this? It’s very easy to believe the presence of one side would entirely eliminate the issues in the other’s methods. The best solution is the one that comes from both sides working together; and that’s probably why Izuku & Shigaraki’s quirks each ended up being named after half the phrase “All for one and one for all”.

Conclusion

Look. I get it. The League are terrorists, there’s no getting around that, and at times it can feel like the villains fans ignore this. But that truth is that it’s more complicated than that.

Shigaraki’s inner circle are simultaneously some of the victims most in need of saving & some of the greatest threats the HeroAca-verse has ever faced. They are, in several ways, the greatest conflict a hero could ever face, and how a hero would handle them would define not only the type of hero they are but also the quality of hero they are. I’m just saying; a high quality hero that’d save them, the real Plus Ultra-type, would probably be the kind best suited to taking care of those metaphorical garbage piles and reach that “no more problems” state you usually want your stories to end in.

Does that really mean they need to get away with everything they’ve done? Honestly, got me buddy. Like I said, from a hero’s perspective, their situation is complicated; so if you’re looking for the perfect solution for how a hero should handle them, it’ll probably be pretty complicated in itself. To me personally, that stuff seems like details. What I’m most prioritizing is if we’ll get the best resolution to the root issues as possible.

[simpz-art-stash]

Late Beginnings [Ch. 2]

Summary: Macaque’s gotten over the biggest gap on his side of the burnt bridge between him and his broke af relationship with Wukong. Now he’s gotta take an even bigger leap in hopes of getting MK to give him a chance as well.

(Author’s note: DUNNO IF THERE’LL BE MORE BUT WE’LL SEE, FEEL FREE TO SUGGEST STUFF TO PUT IN HERE)

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It should’ve been easy, a kid like MK had a good head on his shoulders, enough to see the good in all besides himself.

It should’ve been easy.

So then why the hell was he still standing on the sidelines mulling over what to say to the kid who was just a few yards away training under the careful eye of his mentor?

What could he say? The same to Wukong? He felt that might be a bit too cliche, even if it had worked.

‘Just barely.’

Mac sighed, brushing his hair back and watching the two practice stillness together, Wukong resting on his tail in a lotus position while MK stood on one foot, straining to keep his posture in check. Even with the staff being used as a counter-balance his muscles flexed against the lack of support in his other leg.

Maybe he could offer him something? Nothing major of course, something innocent but worthwhile and thoughtful. Demon head’s wouldn’t do, the kid had no real use for those, nor would he probably appreciate a trophy that wasn’t his. What did kids even like these days anyways? He thought of toys but, MK was practically a bigger kid than most other cub’s. Most kids like him usually just kept to popular places or their phones…

Decisions decisions…

A small yelp forced him out of his thoughts, his gaze shifting back over to MK who had since fallen back on his butt. Groaning and complaining like usual before Wukong gave him the ol’ ‘keep it up!’ attitude, prompting MK to simply nod and give it another try.

‘Geeze, and I thought my training was harsh. At least I gave him actual critique on his form…’

Then an idea flashed in his mind, popping off like a rocket and he suddenly found himself with something worthwhile.

------~------

“Alright bud, I think that’s enough of that. Why don’t you hit the bench, I need to go check on the kids back inside n’ make sure they haven’t left a mess after that marathon I set up for em.” Wukong claimed, patting MK on the back before turning away. Offering a curt wave as he left, “Call me if you need me!”

“Alright, I will!” MK sighed and made his way over to a makeshift seat, which happened to be nothing more than a split log. And proceeded to take his headband off if not to just drench his hair in some of the water from one of the bottle’s he’d brought along with him. Before guzzling the rest of it down like he hadn’t drank in forever.

“I see he’s been keepin’ you on your toes. Full pun intended.” Mac commented, earning him a startled squeak from MK who had just about spat his drink out when Mac rounded him from behind to sit himself down on the opposing side of the log.

MK had heard a little snippet from MKing about Macaque trying to make amends, he didn’t get the full details but he’d heard enough to know to keep an eye out for the guy. Not that he wasn’t already always on high alert for any suspicious activity.

“Guh- yeah.” MK coughed a little, rubbing his throat a little as he cleared it. “It hasn’t been uh, easy, but I think I’m gettin’ better. Just need to try harder or whatever…”

“Mmm…” Mac let his gaze concentrate on the immortal peach tree Wukong had planted out in the front of his yard, it having long since bloomed and been picked clean.

MK shifted a little under the uncomfortable silence that spread between the two, there wasn’t tension in it per sey, but it was still a lil awkward for him to just outright be chatting it up with the same guy who had once tried to kill him at one point.

“So uh..I was hoping to..make it up to you, what with everything that happened the last time…” Mac’s face squinted a little, his tail irritably swaying behind him, it seemed this was just as awkward for him as it was MK.

“Uhm..okay?..” MK veered a little away from the guy, not too sure how to handle that. “Hey if this is about the whole ‘you trying to kill me thing’ then uh, hey man we’re cool.”

“What? I mean yeah but, it’s more than just that..” Mac fiddled idly with the hem of his cloak, the things color long since having been worn down from the elements. “A lot more…”

“Complicated?” MK quirked a brow at him.

“Yeeaaahh…”

“Heh, been there. Done that.” MK nodded, not that it was anything to be proud of.

“He didn’t tell you?” Mac looked at MK finally with a concerned expression.

“About you and him?? I mean..yeah he told me a lil..mostly just warned me to keep an eye out for you but…” MK rubbed the back of his neck out of nervous habit, shifting under the demon’s gaze.

“Of course he didn’t…” Mac sighed with a frown, “Well, maybe that’s where I can help you out. I know Wukong, he doesn’t exactly give you the full picture so easily, then again he’s never really had a student before either so.”

“So?”

‘So, he won’t just outright give you the benefit of the doubt just like that, especially if you just say you’ll give him whatever advice he wants. He’ll think you’re just trying to pull him from Wukong again or worse.’

“What I mean to say is, if you want to correct your form with that whole balancing thing, you should try putting less focus into just your foot, and put it towards your whole body.” Macaque stated plainly, his gaze shifting away back to the peach tree.

“Oh..uhm..alright?...Thanks???” MK blinked, none too sure what to make of that, but he wasn’t trying to kill him, or hurt his feelings so, maybe that was a good thing??

“Feel free to mention it to him…” Macaque claimed, his gaze softening before he got up finally and began to walk elsewhere.

“h-Wait!” MK called out, standing up right then. To which Macaque of course obliged, though he kept his back facing kid.

“..are you..like...being serious about that whole, ‘making amends’ thing?..” MK squinted at him suspiciously, even if Macaque could lie about his true intentions, MK at least thought it right to ask. Considering everything else…

“Yes.” Mac stated, his tail curling a little behind him.

“Ohkaaay... “ It was still hard to tell but, “Then why’re you trying to?-”

“Because he told me to.” Mac claimed, his head turning just enough to share a glance with the kid. “Don’t get the wrong idea..it was wrong of me, but.”

“Buuut?”

-------~-------

“But whatever you do, you gotta stop lyin’ about the real stuff.”

Mac grunted, that was probably gonna be the hardest trial of his to overcome. For him, lying was basically his day by day means of survival. “I think I’d rather cut my own tongue out at that point an be mute then cut that out.”

The chick shrugged, “Hey, I’m just sayin’. Honesty is the best policy. Even if it hurts to hear it, better said than left for dead. You want em to trust you again? You gotta earn it. A few pretty words ain’t never gonna be enough. You gotta put some effort behind em.”

“Uuuugh.” He rolled his eyes, already regretting having decided to go through with the whole thing. “Fine...but if I get my ass beat because someone couldn’t take the heat, I’ll hunt you down.”

“I’ll take that chance.” The chick smirked.

-------~-------

Macaque sighed, he could already imagine just how easy it’d be to screw up something so casually done by others. Century old lies he’d held onto for most his life being the worst one’s, with how gnarled they were from the many times they’d been knotted by his reasons to keep them from being undone by any means necessary. He’d run from them for such a long time though, enough to the point where he’d finally hit the end of his lead, and now he was forced to look back at the mess he’d caused.

It wasn’t a pretty sight at all.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t go back and try to fix some of it. Now matter how long it took, little by little. He just had to be careful in doing so or else he’d just get himself wrapped up in knots all over again.

“...I..” Just say it, even if it’s half the truth.

“I didn’t want to see you waste that potential under a guy who wouldn’t appreciate it...” Macaque claimed, his gaze shifting away.

That...was probably the first time MK had ever seen Mac show a genuine side of himself before. Even during training he’d been distant and strict, similar to Wukong but a lot less merciful in a spar. Where with Mac, bruises were lessons learned.

“...Thanks. For the uh..advice I mean.”

Macaque stiffened a little at the response, but he didn’t spoil it for fear of ruining what little ground he had on that bridge.

“Anytime.”

And then he was gone.

[alastanor]

In less than a week my feed has been plagued by the "hot takes" of entitled fans of the Hazbin and Helluva universe.

As a result, I know I promised some analytical information regarding what we know of Hazbin's version of hell thus far, which will be included in this post. But there will be some other things added as well to address some of the more frequently expressed "concerns" I have seen being (rather rudely) expressed in posts.

Some of the things I will be talking about in these posts, so while I will be utilizing quotes or things said in @total-mal 's very well articulated response post, I recommend going to read that response post in it's entirety. Like... now.

The complaints I tend to see typically fall along these lines.

So in this post I will be addressing these things and other things I typically see.

Story

As was very well put in the aforementioned post, the series of Hazbin barely has an hour of content. Yet for some reason people complain that it's a mess. How?

The Pilot itself is meant to establish the setting, who the characters are, what their relationships to each other are, establishing dynamic, and establish the premise of future story that is meant to follow. All of these things the pilot did exceedingly well. A pilot is NOT meant to drop dozens of hours worth of world lore and future plot points in one half hour segment. It is supposed to hook people into being interested in and watching the follow up episodes. Which, considering the rather quick cult following that preceded the pilot debut, I would say it did that and more even without the world lore dump people are demanding.

No story is going to give you every facet of the characters and the world they inhabit in the first episode or the first novel. No story worth it's weight in salt, that is. Any good story teller will tell you that content needs to be put on an IV drip as the story progresses, or else you will lose the majority of your audience's interest.

Helluva Boss is it's own standalone project set in the same universe as Hazbin, but it's job is not to provide lore for Hazbin. The kernel of lore we got from episode two was great. But that is very likely not going to be the norm every episode. Nor should anyone expect otherwise.

The comics were also their own projects, meant to strengthen an already existing narrative with Hazbin and establish both Angel and Alastor's motives for joining the Hotel. They are not meant to expand on the lore. Their existence could also very likely be overlooked by fans who only pay attention to what is popping up on Youtube or on their Twitter feed.

As for Addict, that began as a fan-created song Vivzie liked enough to animate into a music video which expanded on Angel and Cherri's relationship. It was not meant to be an entry to any Vivziepop Hell lore.

Hazbin is a story driven by its characters. This is why the characters are the focus and take up the majority of any screen time given to any entry of Hazbin. Mal puts it very well:

World

So this is where we will be getting into what we know so far about the world of Vivzie's hell.

So Vivzie's hell is, from what we understand, loosely based on Dante's inferno with other inspirations and deviations mixed in. For example, there are only seven circles of hell as opposed to 9.

In Dante's inferno only circle two through five are after the Seven Deadly Sins. Whereas in Vivziepop's version of hell, every circle is for one of the Seven Deadly Sins.

From what we understand so far, Pride is the top circle, or Ring. Sinners, AKA those who were alive prior to becoming demons, are only allowed to exist in Pride.

We do not know what "can only exist" means. As this doesn't imply that sinners can't leave Pride. Simply that they cannot exist anywhere else.

And also from what we understand, the big marker that differentiates each of the circles is the colors of the sky.

Pride, from what we have seen thus far, has a red sky.

While Greed has a green sky.

This is further confirmed on Twitter, however whether it was confirmed by Vivzie or one of the other official Twitters, I cannot recall.

Now, I know there are quite a few who keep asking this question.

And there are many who seem to think that this little detail means that the fact dump from official Twitters means the story and lore are ruined. This is actually false. Especially when you consider that Sinners are not a finite population. Nor is their influx a small trickle. So expanding Sinners into other parts of hell is only a temporary solution to a more overarching problem. It may slow down the necessity for purges, but it would also increase the number needed to be purged each time a purge was necessary. Further, it is doubtful that Lucifer would be keen on the idea of angels traveling deeper into Hell just as it is doubtful that he sees a reason to be exceedingly merciful to sinners- the creation he detests and is more or less what brought him to Hell to begin with. It also would erase any place to escape for Hell-born demons.

So in this regard, no. Nothing is ruined. People just aren't paying attention. The devil is in the details, after all.

As for what the difference is between circles and rings, perhaps this will shed some light.

Rings seem to be segments of a circle that separate sinners by the subcategory of their sin in each circle. Whether or not Vivziepop's version of hell follows this, I personally doubt it. Ring and Circle, from observation, seem to be used interchangeably. So the two could very well be the same thing.

The other bits we know are lore facts Vivzie has given previously that may no longer be true as the world exists now. For example, previously Alastor was scared of dogs. But more recently, Vivzie said that is no longer true and Alastor simply just does not like them. So any older facts should be taken with a grain of salt until they are reconfirmed.

Switching gears on the world, there have been complaints popping up that Vivziepop's hell is not "hell-y" enough because there is not enough fire and brimstone.

To take a phrase from total-mal once more, there are countless alternate depictions of hell as hell being other people instead of the place itself. The phrase exists from Sartre's No Exit, but has been revisited numerous times in other media depictions of hell to display that the definition of "punishment" can be broadened to a much larger spectrum than originally imagined.

In the Hazbin universe of Hell, punishment is the constant threat of physical and emotional harm from those around you, not unlike being in prison or living in a ghetto. You have the increased potential to be abused or taken advantage of if you show a moment's weakness.

And while some in the demon hierarchy might have it better than others, there is still the constant threat of being killed or overthrown by someone stronger or someone just wanting to prove themselves.

In the Hazbin universe of hell, you wear clues to your life, your sins, and your death on the outside for all to see (and in some cases, manipulate). You are thrust into a demon hierarchy one wrung up from the lowest class, unless you are lucky and strong enough to become an overlord. In which case, then you are two wrungs up from the lowest class. And your punishment is living every day with the constant threat of those around you. Of always needing to have your guard up because someone will take advantage of you or worse. That isn't even mentioning the annual threat of the purge.

Livestreams

This is another one that I see get mentioned and awful fucking lot in the complaint/concern/hot take posts.

There are always complaints about how the livestreams are useless, serve no purpose, or are just "jerkoff sessions." Mind, these same complaints almost always seem to come from the same people complaining about having no information about the show or having no lore surrounding the universe or the story.

Nevermind that Vivzie and the cast are all under NDA and cannot disclose much that isn't already known about the show and, where VAs are concerned, cannot do any voice lines that go beyond what has already been said in the pilot lines.

The Livestreams serve SEVERAL purposes, however. One of those purposes is to drum up interest surrounding Hazbin and Helluva, as well as to advertise and to disclose any lore that they have permission to disclose to the audience. Something to whet their appetites as they wait for the small Indie studio A24 to finish production of Hazbin's first season in the middle of a pandemic. Because that last bit people seem to forget is still ongoing.

Without those livestreams done by Viv and the cast, many of the impatient fans in this fandom would be practically breaking down the door on Vivzie's DMs demanding to know where Hazbin is or why she seems to have given up on it. Or at least, more than what is currently going on now anyway.

People need to calm down, let the Devs do their job, and pay more attention to the details given in what we have thus far. Vivzie has done a GREAT job at eluding to the bigger picture in her details. Particularly where her characters are concerned. And I for one am here for it.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Shut Eye: The Other Side

pairing/genre: idol!Yoongi x soulmate reader, fluff

premise: In a world where every night Yoongi meets his soulmate in his dreams only to forget their face and voice when he wakes up, He’s now more desperate than ever to find them.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this is Yoongi’s POV of the original one shot, ‘Shut Eye’. Give it a read if you haven’t, this will make more sense!

requested by anon - thanks for wanting to see a bit more with this story! a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post!

It wasn’t a secret that Yoongi wasn’t a fan of traveling very often. It wasn’t the flying or the different foods - he loved seeing new places and meeting people from all over the world. In fact, seeing their fans was usually the only way to get him to cheer up.

What he hated about traveling was how it messed with his sleep schedule. He wanted to sleep at the same time as you. 

Not like he knew you, but he was very aware of how he felt while sharing the dreamscape with you.

Simply put, he felt happy. The kind of joy that fills up your very bones and leaves you with your own personal sun hanging above your head for hours to come. 

So no, Yoongi couldn’t say he was a very big fan of traveling. Not when it took him far away from your timezone and left him to dreams void of your presence. 

Now, with tour season looming in the not-so-far-off distance, he realized that he couldn’t keep this up. He couldn’t keep doing this to himself. It was time.

Thankfully, Jin felt the same way. When the dreams started - around the age of nineteen - Yoongi hadn’t known where to turn. However, as time went on, he knew that he could turn to his members. Jin just so happened to be his roommate, and therefore the constant listener. The mornings when Yoongi would awake and sit straight up as though chasing after you worked almost as well as an alarm clock for Jin. With bleary eyes he’d roll over or later on when they got bigger rooms and had something of a separator between either side, he’d slip on his pink slippers and pad over to where Yoongi had collapsed back on his pillows and had thrown his hands over his eyes. 

“What do you remember this time?” Jin would ask with a gravelly voice.

Yoongi would keep his eyes closed, desperately trying to remember every detail. However the most frustrating part was never being able to remember the sound of your voice or what you looked like. 

It was Hoseok who first offered up the idea about the award show. 

“You have to start somewhere,” he explained. “So why not start with us? Drop some major hints. She’ll get it.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Yoongi griped miserably. The only thing on his mind was the impending tour and the months spent without you in his dreams. 

Hoseok simply shrugged, giving his friend a firm pat on the back before getting up from the couch. “You have to start somewhere, Yoongi.”

And start he did.

He remembered how nervous he was, even though it was just a part of the dream, to bring you out to the red carpet. He’d asked to see his suit earlier that day, thinking that it might help you to identify him in real life. 

When the boys asked him about how it went the first night, Yoongi gave some noncommittal answers. You’d certainly seemed confused, and he felt almost bad because he knew that you’d probably woken up with more questions that answers. 

The next night, however, Yoongi was shocked.

He’d entered the dreamscape before you, and had taken a moment to steel his nerves. It was also a little nerve-wracking to meet you every night, going through the process of seeing you for what felt like the first time over and over again. 

You entered the dreamscape, he heard your footsteps. Taking a deep breath, he turned around to face you.

You...wow.

Dressed in a deep red gown that kisses the tops of your ankles, you had a forgotten smile on your face as you recognize your soulmate. He did his best to appear unaffected, but he couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey,” Yoongi mumbled, wondering for the millionth time how he could forget someone like you every morning. “You look beautiful.”

You took a look at his suit, and he stilled under your inspection. “Are you wearing that to the award show today?”

Yoongi nodded, stepping toward you. “I wish you could go, I know that I’d be able to find you-”

“I am.”

His heart wasn’t sure if it should stop or speed up, instead settling for some sort of palpitation. “You are? How?”

“Ji-eun is my best friend, remember?”

“So…we’ll see each other.” Even as he uttered it, Yoongi wondered if it was too good to be true.

“I hope so.” You titled your head, and it made him want to do the same. “But will you recognize me? It was so hard for me to remember any details after last night’s dream, I feel like it’s getting harder.”

“I think it is,” Yoongi admitted, holding his breath as he walked the final few steps toward you and grabbed your hand. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to forget this dress.” 

Of course, as soon as he woke up, the image of that red dress was burned on the inside of his eyelids. Throughout the day, he was rambling off different things about it to whoever would listen. The other members had heard enough about it to last the next several years. That didn’t stop him from talking about it some more, of course.

Once they made it to the red carpet, Yoongi found that he couldn’t focus on anything. He looked like some freshly-debuted kid, eyes wandering and fidgeting nonstop. The other members just laughed, playing it off as best they could. 

“Let me know if you see a red dress,” he mumbled for the hundredth time to Taehyung.

“Hyung,” Taehyung placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know. Obviously I’ll have to look, you’re too short to see anything as is.”

While the rest of the group laughs as they walk onto the red carpet, Jimin especially enjoying the joke that is usually reserved for him, Yoongi raises his brows. 

Without a single ounce of shame, he gets up on his tippy toes and begins to look around from the new vantage point. How is nobody wearing a long, red dress?! Isn’t that like a staple of the red carpet??

Just as he’s about to curse and start posing for pictures like he should, his eyes catch on a red dress far down the line. Slowly, as though swimming through concrete, his eyes drag themselves up to meet yours. 

You - it’s you, he’s sure of it - are staring right back at him. And you tilt your head to the side, in a way that’s so familiar to him that it almost feels like he’s somehow stumbled into the dreamscape in the middle of the red carpet. 

There’s only way to find out. 

Somehow his feet manage to carry him to you, and he’s standing in front of you and seeing you for what feels like the first time but he knows - just knows - that you and him have a very long, detailed history. 

“Quick,” he breathes out even as your eyes are devouring him alive. “If it’s really you, tell me what name we can’t agree on for a girl.”

He sees your surprise, and for a moment he’s terrified that this is all some huge mistake. That he’s officially lost it and that this marks the end of his sanity that he’s somehow managed to cling to for all these years. 

However, just as he’s about to apologize and slink back to where he came from, you smile.

Really smile.

And he remembers. That smile is the same one that greeted him every time he got to the dreamscape a little late. You would pretend to be upset, laying out on the couch and groaning about how you don’t even know why you try to be on time. And he would laugh and kneel before the couch, sweetly asking you to forgive him.

That same smile would melt his bones and haunt him in his waking hours. 

And suddenly you’re answering him, the amusement evident in your voice. “We are not naming her Pearl! It would make her sound like a pirate ship!”

It doesn’t matter, he realizes. He couldn’t care less right now. Not as you’re finally within reach.

But he’s not going to tell you that. Better to keep that feigned annoyance on your face for a little longer - it’s adorable. 

So he just brings you closer until your foreheads are touching and you’re all he can see. It’s just you and that red dress and that smile that he thinks he’ll always remember, even if he forgets his own name. 

And when he quietly mumbles, “I told you we’d find a way,” he knows he’s saying it more to himself than to you.

Together, you’d found a way.

Finally.

masterlist

[hrtiu]

Would you consider writing something super short, like a couple hundred words, about Tech helping Brit'ni integrate that really tough problem you had trouble with a few days ago? 😅 (sorry, I'm trying to make you laugh lol)

Ah! You're the greatest! Ok, I think I can manage to put something together. for you <3

"Argh!!" Brit'ni let out a primeval scream and threw her stylus across the room. It landed against the dull durasteel wall with a pathetic plink, the sound not equal to Brit'ni's rage.

Tech looked up from the servos he was soldering and lifted his safety visor, eyes blinking at her in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"It's this stupid assignment," Brit'ni said, gesturing to the datapad she'd been staring at for the past two hours. She'd come to Tech's apartment to study--he had the perfect, no-frills setup and even just being around him focus pressured Brit'ni into being more productive--but so far she'd made almost no progress.

"Ah, the economics of past cultures class?" Tech said, pressing a finger to the bridge of his nose to lift up the goggles that weren't currently over his eyes.

"Yes," Brit'ni said with a scowl. "I don't understand why I have to learn any of this to study history. When am I going to need to find the expected value of a random variable curating a museum exhibit?"

Tech set his soldering gun down and pursed his lips, like she'd insulted him personally. "Just as your understanding of history and cultures can inform the way I program this computing system," he said, gesturing to the servos on his work bench, "so too can statistics inform the way you evaluate and interpret history."

"Ok, ok, you can get off your high fathier. Just help me, please?"

Tech's eyebrows raised and he nodded. "Certainly."

He got up from the workbench and headed over to Brit'ni. With each step she wondered if she was making a huge mistake. She'd never asked Tech for help on this sort of thing before because she had a sneaking suspicion he'd be absolutely insufferable. And she liked kissing Tech. She didn't want to mess that up.

"What seems to be the problem?" he asked, leaning over her datapad.

She took a moment to answer, letting herself enjoy the warm feeling of him looming over. "It's this integral." She pointed to the tortured s-loop on the screen, even just the sight of it twisting her brain into knots. "I know we're supposed to use a change of variable, but the new derivative just doesn't fit."

She'd looked at it backwards, frontwards, sideways, and upside down. She'd stared at this problem for thirty minutes straight without writing so much as a single calculation. But the harder she stared the more inscrutable it became. She was convinced that only a true genius could solve it, and even then only after considerable effort.

"Substitute in u equals w over pi sin of x," he said.

"What?"

"Substitute in u equals w over pi sin of x. This is a normal distribution, and that will become obvious once you take that substitution."

Brit'ni stared at him blankly. It had taken him less than five seconds to find the solution. Five seconds. Five seconds to solve this thrice-blasted problem. "Seriously?"

"Yes," Tech said, his brows gathering together in confusion. "Are you having trouble hearing me? This question is a bit tricky, but quite solvable. From your outburst earlier I was worried it might take longer to help-"

Brit'ni stood up fast from her seat, her chair scraping noisiliy against the floor beneath her. "I'm going to get some air," she said, as if there was anywhere you could get fresh air on Coruscant.

"Brit'ni, did I do something wrong-?"

"No, you were very helpful."

"It was no problem at all, the question was elementary-"

"I'm getting some air!" Brit'ni reiterated with more force, slamming the door shut behind her as she stalked from Tech's room.

She ended up going for some jwa bing--a tasty fried dough snack sold by a vendor just outside Tech's apartment. She walked around his neighborhood, slowly consuming the greasy disc as she let herself cool off. The area was a little tough, but during the day she felt safe enough.

About a half hour later and Brit'ni was filled with regret--both at the heavy, greasy feeling settling in her stomach and at the childish way she'd reacted earlier. She knew Tech wasn't the most tactful with how he expressed himself--it was one of the things she liked about him. She'd need to be patient with him if she wanted him to be patient with her.

She walked back to the apartment and Tech buzzed her in without question. She entered the keycode to his room and was already composing an apology in her head when the door whooshed open to reveal a flustered Tech, his goggles resting haphazardly atop his head and a stack of flimsi--flimsi--in his hands.

"Brit'ni, I wanted to apologize-"

"You shouldn't have to apologize," Brit'ni said, almost angry with the contrite lilt to his voice. "I was being childish. You helped me, and I'm grateful."

"I appreciate that, but I still need to apologize. I spoke with Echo and he helped me understand that by answering your question so quickly and with no explanation, I may have implied a shortcoming in intelligence on your part. That I trivialized the difficulties you were having with the assignment by suggesting that it should have been easy."

He was right, of course. That was exactly how he'd made her feel. Most of the time Tech's staggering intellect didn't intimidate Brit'ni. She knew she was smart too--maybe in different areas, but smart all the same. And she knew that Tech's brilliant mind sometimes kept him from seeing the bigger picture. But every once in a while it hit her just how much better he was than her at certain things--a lot of things, if she was being honest. And sometimes it hurt.

Tech took a step towards her and held out the short stack of flimsi like a peace offering. Brit'ni took it and looked down to find neat lines of scribbled calculations filling the flimsi, Tech's consistently-chaotic handwriting unmistakable.

"I wrote out a detailed explanation of the integration--each step as well as the underlying theorem supporting them," he said, taking a step back as soon as she had the flimsi securely in her hands. "I also tried to build in an explanation of the kind of intuition that makes problems like these easier. When I said this problem was simple, it is because I have seen others like it before. The next time you see a problem like this you will see what to do next just s easily. It is only a matter of experience."

Her eyes scanned the first page of notes, and already the impossibly tangled problem she'd been slaving over for several hours seemed to slip loose. His notes were thorough, straightforward, and easy to understand. She could do this.

For some reason, hot tears filled her eyes. She clutched the papers to her chest, the stress of her coming exams and the frustration of the assignment hitting her all at once.

"Brit'ni?" Tech asked, his voice quiet. "Is this acceptable? I can offer an alternate apology-"

"It's perfect, Tech," she said, raising a hand to wipe the moisture from her eyes. "Thank you."

Relief flooded his expression and he stepped up to her, wrapping his arms around her in that oddly precise way of his. "I think you are very intelligent, and especially knowledgeable in your field," he said into her hair. "And I want to be able to help you when you need it."

"I want that, too," she said, her voice muffled by his chest. "Just... try not to be a condescending ass about it."

He chuckled, the sound resonating across each unit of surface area they shared. Then he coughed. "I'll, eh, do my best. I'm sure you will always let me know if that is the case?"

"Deal."

"Deal."

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Patton and Monty at War: Unbelieving the unbearable rivalry.

Monty is trying to steal the show and with the assistance of Divine Destiny [Eisenhower] he may do so.

- General George S. Patton, on the Sicily Campaign, private diaries 16 July 1943

So every week I play my usual game of chess over a glass of wine with one of my neighbours in my Parisian apartment building. He’s a retired army general but remains active as a military historian and speaker. He’s curmudgeonly but one warms to him quickly as he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. He’s not a fan of women in the military but reluctantly concedes he would make an exception for me (besides who else could he play chess with?). We get on really well now because of the Covid lockdown this past year. We often have long discussions about military history and current politics until the bottle of wine is completely drained.

On one occasion he invited me to watch the 1969 classic war film, Patton, about the life of one of America’s greatest iconic World War Two generals, George S. Patton. It’s been years since I’ve seen it and I almost had forgotten how great the movie is with George C. Scott as Patton and Karl Malden as General Omar Bradley. We watched it in English and then discussed many things that came out of the film.

Hollywood and history usually do not mix. It is quite common for  filmmakers to take a historical subject and to distort it for their purposes and to dumb it down for entertainment purposes. In the case of the movie, Patton, there was no real attempt to distort the story of Patton. It was a fantastic and stirring Hollywood movie. Moreover it was an excellent study in character given Oscar worthy heft by the great George C. Scott as the crusty General George S. Patton. Francis Ford Coppola’s script was severely under-rated.

However there remain glaring inaccuracies such as Patton’s opening speech in the movie - admittedly a an iconic bit of cinema - but even this was based on his statements and captured the character of  the man, something even acknowledged by the Generals’ family.

Much  of the details of his role in the defeat of Germany are true. The only real omission was the lack of focus on Patton’s Lorraine Campaign, where he distinguished himself. There are some exaggerations in the movie and some minor distortions such as in the weather-prayer scene. In general,  the movie managed to produce a great overview portrayal of the  character and career of an extraordinary American leader.

The film does accurately relate the leading role played by Patton in the  liberation of Sicily. His daring use of armour was crucial in the defeat of the German army on the island.

However long after the film had ended I did think about one thing that irked me. And this was how the movie seemed to linger on the belief Patton was motivated by the desire to do better than General Montgomery, the victor  at El Alamein. Indeed the film probably reinforced the accepted conventional wisdom that these two driven and ambitious men hated each other.

There was a great personal rivalry between the two men.  They were both driven and wildly ambitious. The movie suggests that the rivalry between Montgomery and Patton was the main feature of the Sicilian Allied campaign and was perhaps a factor in why it ended so quickly with a  decisive Allied victory.

The rivalry was not as intense as the motion  picture suggests and the two men worked together when needed for the  good of the Allied cause.

Born two years apart, both were commissioned within a year of each other  and both were wounded in France in the First World War. Both men  encompassed very different but very valuable characteristics in combat:  Monty-careful and meticulous, Patton-dashing and diplomatic.   Despite  the differences, both generals demonstrated striking similarities:  commitment to their careers, a ruthless egotism, interesting when you  consider neither held superior command. This did not impede their desire  for the limelight and fame in warfare, arrogance and the manipulation  of colleagues in high places to advance their careers.  Both were  machiavellian in their own affairs and self-interested in their own  personal progression.

The great rivalries amongst the Allies that made a real imact were Marshall and Brooke over war policy, Nimitz and MacArthur over resources, Eisenhower and Montgomery over strategy; and then between Percival and MacArthur for incompetence,  Patton and O'Connor for aggressiveness, MacArthur and Clarke for vainglory,  (and possibly  Clarke and Wavell for the stupidity of letting defeated enemies escape),  were the issues that defined the war for the Western allies.

The idea  that a competition between Patton and Montgomery was more important is cute, but naive. I am not even sure where the idea comes from. 

Much is made of the bet between Patton and Montgomery over reaching Palermo in Sicily first, but in practical terms that was the only time in the war that Patton ever appeared on Montgomery's radar.

For the rest  of the war Monty was so much higher up the food chain than Patton that  he was unaware, or disinterested in Patton's opinions. Montgomery  was, by 1944, an experienced general who very successfully fought extensively in both combat and staff roles for 4 years throughout World  War One. (Patton got a combat command for a few weeks when the Germans  were already collapsing.) Montgomery led a division very successfully  through the Battle of France, and a corps through the crucial Battle of  Britain training and rebuilding years. He led an army in combat for two  years, through many successful battles both on defense and in attack.

By  1944 Patton had led a corps for a few months, and an army for a few weeks. For the very brief period of the Sicily compaign they were  theoretically equals in command, but probably only in Patton's mind. Montgomery saw Patton as an enthusiastic if amateurish old man but respected his aggressive boldness. Montgomery saw his HQ 'betting book' as a bit of fun (and was delighted when bet a  B17 by someone who should have known better).

When he and Patton met  and co-ordinated the Sicilian campaign Alexander seemed not interested in co-ordinating, Monty saw Palermo as a similar bit of fun to pursue, no bigger or smaller than the hundreds of other bets in the book.

Patton saw it, as he saw anything relating to his persona, as the most vitally important challenge of his whole life...up until the next one.  Montgomery lost a bet and moved on to the next challenge. Patton won but  didn't. (Or at least that is what bad writers have tried to suggest. I  think he moved straight on to the next challenge anyway.)

That  was the last time Monty and Patton were in direct competition, no matter what revisionists or romantics would say.

The next time Patton was  allowed in the field he was one of half a dozen army commanders in  Monty's Normandy army group, and, familiarly, he did not arrive until  the Germans in Normandy were already collapsing. Very soon afterwards Eisenhower split off Bradley's army group, and Monty had no control, nor much interest, in what Patton was up to thereafter.

The  romantics like to suggest that thereafter Monty railed against Patton's supplies, and that Patton railed against Montgomery's caution. The truth is less foolish for both of them. In fact Montgomery railed  against Eisenhower's broad front strategy regardless of which of the  other sub-commanders was benifitting (to the point of Montgomery making  an offer to serve under Bradley as long as someone got single control to  pursue a single strategy). He railed against the diversion of resources  anywhere not at the main point where a thrust might have achieved early  victory.

Leaving aside whether that victory could have happened,  Montgomery's beef was with Eisenhower first, his appalling chief of supply Lee second, fellow Army Group Commanders who couldn't control the excesses of their subordinates like Bradley (and to a lesser extent) Devers third, and only then with the several army commanders who each tried to do their own thing.

In practical terms Montgomery seemed more appalled by the negative effects of the incompetence of Hodges (1st US Army,) and  the obnoxiousness of General De Gaulle's orders to 'his' army (French First Army), and perhaps even  the ineffectiveness of his own subordinate Crerar  (Canadian 1st army) , than he did by Patton's enthusiasms. There is  hardly a mention of Patton in his diaries through this period, compared  to several comments on Bradley and De Gualle, and endless ones on  Eisenhower.

Patton too is being maligned by the pretense that his  war was taken up with a vain competition with Montgomery. Patton, like  Montgomery, was totally concerned with the main issue of defeating  Germany. But unlike Montgomery, he did not have Brooke  -  the Chief of Imperial General Staff - to rely on for support against  Eisenhower's broad front strategy.

Patton too was convinced that this was the wrong way to go, but to get his version of a thrust (with him at  the front) happening, he had to be a bit more manipulative than Montgomery.

Every word Patton used to wheedle and manipulate  support, or at least a blind eye to what he was doing, was designed to  get more resources from his superiors. Indeed, if he couldn't get them from Eisenhower, he was willing to steal them wherever he could, and  then get Bradley to pretend to not know what he was doing. In this he was quite willing to encourage Bradley's inferiority complex in relation  to Montgomery, and to happily manipulate Bradley into tantrums to get  what they both wanted, but it seems likely that Patton was more  interested in getting his way by making his superiors compete with  Montgomery, than in competing with Montgomery himself.

Patton is  actually a more complex and clever character than the romantics give him credit for. His 'kill them even if they try to surrender' speeches in  Sicily were part of his stage management of troops, not part of his innate personality. HIs 'us against the world' propaganda was more  manipulative, not so much like Bradley's inferiority complex. He wanted to win, and he would use anything to get what he needed to win, even  ramping up his superiors to distrust their allies. But his genuine competitiveness with Montgomery at this stage was less about him and Montgomery, and more about him and how he could maneouvre others to  support him. He would have shown the same level of competitiveness, and  the same willingness to undermine, any competitor at this point, British, French, Russian or even American.

Montgomery on the  other hand only saw Patton as one more junior general syphoning supplies  from an inadequate source. Montgomery was in competition with  Eisenhower for control, and possibly with Bradley for resources. Minor  army commanders in other people's army groups only registered on his horizon if he could get their armies assigned to his army group.

Just for amusement, it might be fun to consider how Montgomery and Patton might have worked together?

Montgomery was notoriously superb to serve under, no matter what your nationality.  British, Australian, New Zealander, South African, Indian, Canadian, French, Polish, and American troops who served under him  were all very happy to do so. So were their generals. Bradley certainly learned more  about being a field commander from a few months of Montgomery's distant mentoring than from anything Eisenhower ever did for him in their much closer relationship.

There is no doubt that Montgomery preferred effective subordinates to ineffective ones, and it seems possible that Patton would have made a preferable subordinate to Crerar or Bradley in his mind.

As for Patton, he would have served anyone who got him what he wanted. Had Montgomery offered him the chance to spearhead the attack into Germany, there is virtually no doubt that Patton would have  jumped at the chance.

Patton was not the racist that Bradley or Eisenhower were, and was happy to have black troops. He was not the American supremacist that Roosevelt or MacArthur were, and worked well with others (as long as they let him have enough lime light).

Had Montgomery been left as land forces commander, there is little doubt that he would have used Patton's aggression in a way that would have  made Patton much happier than Eisenhower's broad front strategy ever allowed.

It is fun to imagine Montgomery as land forces commander using Patton's 3rd Army in conjunction with British 2nd to leapfrog ahead at top speed into Germany. The best British tactics were never the  broad front strategy that the worst American's like Marshall and Eisenhower fancied. They were always the 'hold the enemy, crumble the  enemy, breakthrough the enemy, and pursue with as much force as fast and  far as possible' skills that had worked since the development of  mechanised warfare in 1918. (As demonstrated by the Germans in Poland  and France and Russia, the British and Germans in North Africa, the  Japanese and British in Asia, and the Russians in Eastern Europe.)

Montgomery would have used his traditional two corps up, one back, one resting deployment, adapted to armies, to keep up the momentum. Patton's preferred tactics were almost exactly the same, and he and his 3rd  Army would have fit it like a glove into Montgomery's thrust strategy.

Personally  I think that the limited reality behind their competitiveness paid trumps in Sicily, and I wish that it had been repeated in France. Patton could not have been a worse Army group commander than Bradley was, and would almost certainly have been better.

It is amusing to think of Patton and Montgomery effectively conspiring to destroy the broad front strategy while they got on with winning the war in the best spirit of competition. Although I have a sneaking suspicion that one of Patton's biographers was right to suggest that by 1945 he had suffered a few too many hits on the head, there is little doubt that he would have been almost as valuable to the Allied cause in Bradley's place against Eisenhower's policies directly, as he would have under Montgomery's army  group. That might have been a useful version of rivalry.

[mylordshesacactus]

A Writer’s Guide To Hurricanes, I Guess

I realized with a bit of chagrin that, while I’ve spent years bitching about how it drives me up the wall that nobody (in fandom or, in fact, mainstream media) has a goddamn clue how hurricanes work and yet insists on portraying them anyway...I’ve never actually tried to help by explaining what they’re actually like.

So, here’s a genuine, non-sarcastic, good-faith attempt by a Floridian to help you guys who might want to write this stuff at some point understand it, just a little.

So here we go, chronologically in terms of the storm’s progress.

The storm itself is the least of it.

This is the thing non-hurricane places don’t....get.

You can see a hurricane coming. You can watch it. You have, in fact, no choice. I need to reiterate this.

You have no choice but to sit there and watch a hurricane coming.

I’ve actually talked a lot in another post about what that feels like, and why hurricane parties are a thing. But try to imagine what that feels. Just...try. You have to sit there, for about a week, watching the wrath of God bear down on you.

You watch it come and you hope the path changes. You hope it veers off back into the Atlantic, of course, but you also--you hope it hits somewhere else. You know wherever it goes people will die and you hope it goes somewhere else. And you feel kinda bad about it; but you also don't because these are just facts, this is a fact of hurricanes, they will go somewhere and people will die in that place and all of us hope it goes Somewhere Else and if it does, we know that the people Somewhere Else are praying frantically that it gets back on course and hits us instead and we understand.

(And when it does change course, when it doesn’t hit you, you almost feel....cheated? Because you spent so much time and energy preparing and fearing and coming to terms and accepting and bracing and then it--doesn’t happen.

And the guilt of praying it would go Somewhere Else is nothing compared to being disgusted with yourself for actually feeling disappointed that you were spared the apocalypse this time.)

The wind is different.

If you listen to weather reports on hurricanes you’ve absolutely heard the phrasing “sustained winds of X miles per hour with gusts up to Y” without really thinking about what that means.

Now, of course everyone’s been in windy conditions. It’s hard to put a finger on exactly how the hurricane is....different, so I’m just going to describe what it’s like.

The wind always comes from one direction. There’s no being “knocked this way and that” or whatever; the wind comes from the direction the wind is coming from. Always.

(If you’re near where the center of the storm passes, this direction will slowly change as your position relative to the eye changes. But it changes over a matter of hours--like the angle of the sun.)

The wind is a constant, unrelenting force. There’s no....there’s no dips in the wind. It never lessens, it only spikes and then returns to baseline. In a normal windstorm, no, it’s not that the wind ever stops blowing, but...there’s an ebb and a flow. A hurricane is a wind tunnel in which every so often someone revs the engine and there’s a few seconds of higher wind, but it never drops below where it’s set.

(The wind will snake under plywood and storm shutters; it will rip them clean off, if you haven’t screwed them in properly. Screws, not nails. The wind makes deadly projectiles of anything not fastened down. Plywood and storm shutters can be broken, by anything travelling fast enough. It is standard procedure, if you have lawn furniture or anything else not secured that doesn’t float, to carefully lower that furniture into a pool--if you have one. It will stay untouched, and won’t be flung through your neighbors’ plywood.)

This is why hurricanes take down so many trees, why they do so much structural damage. Buildings in hurricane zones are built to withstand high wind, and most trees in these areas can survive high wind too or they wouldn’t have survived so long. But there’s only so much that nature and engineering can do about sustained high winds, without a moment’s rest, for hours, unending, no respite...

In landfall footage--ie, the stuff you see on the news--you likely see this effect in the palm trees-watch how instead of tossing, they’re just bent. It never lets up. In the instances where a bent tree violent bounces back before bending again, trust me--that’s not a letup in the wind speed. That’s the tree having been bent too far, and springing back from the sheer pressure on its internal structure. That’s the tree being stronger than the wind--for now

It’s mostly not like the TV reports.

There’s a reason I referred to “landfall footage” above. News broadcasts, for a lot of reasons, focus on the storm at its worst. The highest storm surge, the highest winds, the most brutal damage, occurs where the eye wall first crosses from being over water to being over land.

(Remember--by the time a storm “makes landfall,” everything for miles around has been experiencing the storm for hours already. “Landfall” is when the EYE of the storm first hits land, not when the storm “arrives”.)

But hurricanes are...vast. Look up satellite footage of hurricanes. Really look at it. Look at how much sheer area they cover.

Most places do not experience landfall-level disaster. That’s why, when people evacuate--well, when residents evacuate, the tourists and recent transplants tend to panic harder--you’re basically always evacuating to someplace that will still have vanished under that mass of swirling clouds. Evacuation sites are still inside the hurricane, but wind speed, storm surge, etc--everything drops dramatically even a few miles from the eye.

On a related note, the eye itself rapidly starts shedding power the moment it’s no longer over open water. Generally, the simple act of making landfall instantly drops a hurricane at least one category in severity. Hurricanes are eldritch gods; they rise from the sea and from the sea they take their power. Cut off from it, they starve.

Do not think for a moment that just because you’re “only” experiencing Cat 1 winds that this storm can’t kill your ass dead. Do not underestimate what the death throes of a dying god can do.

Storm surge isn’t high waves, and it isn’t rain.

Storm surge is the actual sea level rising. The entire ocean being dragged onto land by the power of the storm.

Particularly wet and slow hurricanes might--rarely--drop enough rain to cause flooding. However, that’s unusual; most places here can handle heavy rain. The rain isn’t the problem.

(Slow hurricanes are killers on another level. It’s everything I’ve already said about the unrelenting brutality of the wind, coupled with the fact that--as, again, the vast majority of the storm has been raging for hours by the time it “makes landfall”, and hurricanes draw power from the Eye being over the water--it now has hours upon hours of fully-fuelled destruction before it begins to weaken by being cut off from warm water. It doesn’t weaken, it just....keeps going. And the storm surge is present that entire time.)

I’m just gonna direct you to this NOAA diagram on how storm surge works.

The northeast quadrant is the strongest.

This isn’t a proper subheading it’s just something I rarely see people not from Florida acknowledge. 

No matter where the storm is coming from or what angle it hits at--the northeast quadrant is the killer. You do everything in your power to avoid being caught northeast of the storm.

In hurricane-prone areas, the threat is felt year-round.

All the major intersections? Our stoplights aren’t hung on wires from wooden poles--those blow down too easily. They’re bolted to thick metal pipes, “hurricane-proof”. Major roadways that are above floodlines are labelled as evacuation routes.

Things like that.

Hurricanes make their presence known long before the disaster begins.

You start to get “hurricane weather” days--days--before it hits. The sun is out, the weather is fine except for a...

Well, a constant, low-level breeze, with much less variation in angle and direction than usual, fewer gusts, but still primarily a natural breeze. And then you go outside and you look up at that cheerful blue sky and it’s already there.

They’re called cloud bands. You look up and the entire sky is just fluffy white clouds, racing at speed in one direction...

(The breeze, in those early few days, is light. Present, but light. The clouds are always, always racing as if before a gale. There’s a pervasive, eerie wrongness about this, looking up--the clouds moving much, much faster than the wind that should be driving them.)

A hurricane is not a thunderstorm.

This is the cardinal sin and the clearest, most common misconception. Hurricanes are not thunderstorms. In fact it’s actually very rare to have lightning or hear any thunder at all during a hurricane, compared to an average summer storm in hurricane-prone areas.

People often portray hurricanes as basically....the worst storm they can remember, but bigger, and badder, and worse. Hurricanes aren’t just big and intense, they’re....different. They’re something different.

Hurricanes are...quiet.

Except that they’re not.

You know when people talk about the wind howling? Think of the most intense storm you’ve ever sat through. Think about the sound of the wind.The way it whistles through leaves. Hold that experience in your head.

Now forget it. This is different.

Hurricanes don’t sound like that. Hurricanes are....

The sound a hurricane makes is a howl, yes. It makes palm fronds and grass steps and leaves whistle like a rapier scraped against a sheathe, yes. But you barely notice those shallow details, because the sound a hurricane makes is below that, stronger, more powerful.

Hurricanes moan.

Hurricanes are the entire world around you slowly and steadily fraying at the seams, and it moans, low and deep, agonized and hungry, and it never stops. Never. Not until it’s over.

Hurricanes are a world ending.

The storm passes, and the hurricane has only begun.

Do you think people stock up as heavily as they do, with generators and nonperishables and such, for--what, for a few hours of wind and rain, however alive?

No.

Because once the tempest is past, now you have to...exist.

You will not have power. If you were in a very, very lightly-affected area, you might have cell service. Most of your neighbors have evacuated. Many roads can’t be used because they’re washed out, or there are trees or power lines down across them.

It’s very common to lose water pressure. Common practice in hurricane-prone areas is to fill your bathtub with water before the storm--so that, when you lose water pressure, you can use a bucket to flush your toilet. Because those conditions, assuming you’re in an area that can be repaired and not rebuilt, can take weeks.

Weeks without running water, a flushable toilet. That gets grim fast. You brace for the storm. You prepare for what follows.

A hurricane is an eldritch abomination.

Hurricanes are alive.

Hurricanes are Old Gods.

Sitting through a hurricane is not like sitting through a bad storm or like sitting through a tornado, which is fast and unstoppable but then it’s over like it never existed save for the destruction left behind.

In order to get a clearer understanding of just how much the universe is vast, how much it does not, cannot, even notice you enough to want you dead because you are so small it would not comprehend you as possessing an existence if it tried--you would have to go to space.

And while the world moans around you and something out there, alive, growls at a frequency you can’t hear but you feel--you don’t cuddle for warmth during a hurricane. You just don’t.

You keep the generator running outside in the lee of the house where it won’t kill you all with gas fumes, connected via wires that snake around through a cracked door somewhere it won’t get blown open. You make sure it doesn’t run out of fuel, that it doesn’t get water blown into anything important. You use it to power a TV first--to keep the weather report on. You power lights second, if it’s a decent one. You can’t afford one powerful enough to run your refrigerator; you ate the ice cream before this started.

You play games. We’re human; it’s what we do. We play games in the face of our own helplessness. But while you play, you listen. You can’t not.

It’s always there. The world creaks on its hinges. You feel the edges threatening to dissolve. If you sit for a moment and are quiet, that ever-present moan is there, something ancient and powerful on a scale outside your comprehension. There is no cozy comfort of being bunkered down safe against the storm, not here.

There is no “safe” against this. You sit still and quiet and bear witness.

And when the sun rises in the aftermath, you’re surprised to find the world--even a wrecked and altered world--still exists. It shouldn’t. You were there when it ended.

And--and I cannot emphasize this enough--there’s no fucking thunder.

[kitkat1003]

Who Are You Really?

Chapter 3: To Mold; To Raise One

Summary: 

They should know, he thinks, that things like them aren’t picked. The warrior was forgotten by the hero. By everyone. And Macaque? He is going to make them into a tool for a warrior, a warrior themself even, whether they like it or not.

Spirit Masterpost

If he had to say anything on the matter, he would have said they’re useful.

It hadn’t taken much, not really.  He finds them in the woods, alone with nothing to their name but whispers of favors to powerful people and three eyes that stare through you.  He finds them, appraises them, and despite the way their tail curls around their leg and despite the way they hunch down on themself, something is there.  A little broken, but there.

Like a memory of a debt owed, Macaque knows he can fix them and is willing to try.

Convincing them isn’t difficult.  They perk up at the word favor, ears pressed up against the sides of their head and their eyes wide and earnest.  Desperate for a use, excited to have purpose—he dangles it in front of them and pulls them in.

There were more than a few roadblocks.

There is the anxiety, of course.  Kid barely can stand the sight of their own shadow, much less the ones he can summon at the drop of a hat.  He gets them used to the clones soon enough.  Exposure works wonders, and if they don’t like it at first?  Tough.  The clones are a part of him, he says  It wasn’t as if he could just get rid of them because they don’t like them.

A well placed guilt trip, and Kid stumbles over themselves to fix their error.  Good.

They’re soft.  Gentle.  Caring for all the other living creatures almost to the point of those being above their own needs and wants.  Careful of pretty flowers they don’t want to step on, kind to the trees and grass as much as one can be.

Wide eyed, but not doe eyed.  Their eyes are something, though.

It’s interesting to watch the large pupil move, the smaller two following.  They bounce around like ping pong balls, always taking in every detail.  When they wink, they either close the large one, or the two smaller ones.  Sometimes, when they’re trying to focus on something, they’ll close one of the smaller eyes.

“My vision’s a little lopsided,” they admit, when he questions.  “It, uh, can make things blurry.”

Not doe eyed, he knows, when he looks at them.  The furtive way they glance around.  They look at dead animals far too long to be normal.  Stare wistfully out at human settlements.  And when they’re not looking at anything, their eyes look...tired.  Empty.

Haunted, even.

Guess they call themselves Spirit for a reason.

It takes a while to teach them to stop caring about the petals you ruin in your walk, to crush bugs underfoot without thought.  It would go faster if he taught them the hard way, with broken bones and bloodied fists, but breaking more than they already are serves no purpose.  Beyond it all, Macaque wants a tool to use, and a tool shattered beyond repair isn’t useful.  So he has to be patient about it.

Of course, his patience runs out sometimes, but they never complain.  Maybe he gets used to yelling.  It shuts them up real quick, so it works.

Training them is another matter.  As much as he wants to beat all of the lessons he’d learned into them, he has to be patient.  A warrior isn’t made on the first day, there’s a process.  And they’re flighty, too.  One wrong move and they might run away.  Sure, he knew they’d come back, like a dog on a leash whenever the word favor was involved, but waiting would add more time to the process.

So he takes things slow.  Somehow.

They have stamina.  Running and jumping through forests day by day leaves them lithe and lean when it comes to muscles.  They tower over him even when they bend over; they are always bent over.  He forces them to stand up straight, just to get a measure of their height, and they loom like a tree in the forests surrounding them.

A good foundation, but their stance is so easily toppable that he barely has to push them and they stumble back, falling to the ground.

So he starts there.

“You need to be unmovable,” he says, using a stick found in the woods to prod at their limbs until they’re in the right position.  “Rooted to the ground.”

“Like a flower?” they reply, turning their head around to look at him.

He smacks them on the side of the head with the stick for that.

“Like a tree,” he corrects.  “Do you have any idea how easy it is to pick a flower?”

He hears them mutter about how they think it wouldn’t be too bad to be picked, but they correct their stance and go silent before he can bark at them to be quiet.

They should know, he thinks, that things like them aren’t picked.

The warrior was forgotten by the hero.

By everyone.

And Macaque?

He is going to make them into a tool for a warrior, a warrior themself even, whether they like it or not.

Once their stance is steady, he teaches them self defense.  How to punch without breaking your fingers.  How to kick without losing your balance.  How to dodge, duck, strike.

Kid takes to it like a duck to water, with a few hiccups.  The largest of which is a lack of want to land a hit.

Oh, they’re plenty strong.  They can lift up half a tree’s worth of firewood with a bit of strain.  They could likely kick harder than they punch, with how much they run, but to get them to do either is an uphill battle.

“C’mon kid, hit me,” he says, gesturing to his chest.

They pale, shoulders hunched, fingers rubbing against each other awkwardly as they keep them from becoming a fist.

“But-why?  I don’t want to, uh, hurt you.” They frown at the thought.

Macaque laughs.

“You can’t hurt me, trust me.  I’ve been hit by bigger and stronger people than you, kid,” he gives them a half grin and snorts at the thought of them being able to hit that hard.

“I don’t…” They draw circles in the dirt with their toe, glancing between him and their feet.  “I don’t like hurting people.”

He sighs, long suffering.  “You have someone you want to protect?” he asks.

They blink a few times.  He watches their pupils dilate, shifting as they think.  They don’t have the best poker face, but when they want to hide something, their face becomes carefully blank, a slate wiped clean.

It’s kind of creepy, in a way.

“Not anymore,” they finally mutter, forlorn.  Ears downturned.

There’s something deeper there, but Macaque doesn’t have time to hear their life’s story.  Especially when they’re training.  

“Yeah, you do have someone.” He walks over and sticks his finger into their chest, poking them hard enough that they wince.  “You.  You want to stay alive?  You fight.”

They stare at him, hard, and he raises a brow.

“Look,” he says.  “You hate anyone?”

Kid glances down at him—he hates that they’re taller than him, even when they’re hunched down—and their gaze flashes to something dark.

He stares back.

“Yes,” they whisper.  “Some.  One.”

Macaque does not stiffen.  There’s nothing haunting about how quietly, how gently, how angrily Kid says that.

“Alright then,” he takes a step back, arms splayed out to make himself a target.  “Hit me like I’m that person.”

He watches them stare at him.  They tilt their head to the side.  Their pupils shift.

A minute passes, and Macaque is about to say something else, when they blink once, and then strike.

His clothes are ripped, a slash across his chest.  Kid holds their hand out like it’s a weapon, claws bared.  They took off some fur, too, but they didn’t go deep enough to break skin, though Macaque thinks it’s not for lack of trying.

Another blink, and they come to, yanking their hand back and cradling it against their chest.

“Oh-sorry-I-I was just doing what you told me, and, uh, I didn’t,” they mutter out more apologies, looking away.

Macaque laughs.

“No, no, that was great!  We’ll have to get you used to punching and kicking, but using claws ain’t half bad.” He looks them up and down, seeing them in a new light.  “If you like something sharp, then, well, we might as well get you a weapon, right?”

“A...weapon?” They look surprised that he’s not upset.  

Macaque only yells when they make a mistake, though.  And when they’re being annoying, but regardless.  Why punish them for a job well done?  He told them to hit him, and they did.  Not exactly how he wanted, but as long as they’re more willing to fight, he wants to encourage the behavior.  An inch of negativity towards them and they’ll jump a mile back from where he wants them to be.

“Something sharp,” he repeats.  “Claws will only get you so far.”

He pulls out his staff, twirling it around a few times before holding it out, sideways, for the kid to look at.  They peer down at it, tilting their head to the side.  They close one of their eyes, to focus.  Their eyes trace the spikes on the ends of the staff.  They swallow, fidgeting, as their gaze ends at the sharp points.

“It’s...nice,” they say, a little nervous.

“We should go to a market.  I’ve got a bunch of weapons we can test out, but your weapon has to be for you.” He pats the kid on the back, smiling.

“Shopping?” 

He watches them perk up, eyes wide, a smile on their lips.  There’s a certain charm to it.  As tall as they are, they have quite the young face.

“Yup,” he says.  “But first, I’m teaching you how to sew.  If you’re going to tear my clothes, you’re going to know how to fix it.”

They duck their head sheepishly, embarrassed, guilty, but happy that he’s going to teach them something new.

Hook, line, sinker.

He takes them, first, to one of his caves, his hideouts.  He has his stash of weapons there, so they can start training with them to get the kid used to weaponry before he buys them anything.

The trip takes a week, and during it he has to stop himself from strangling the kid every evening.  They light up every two seconds, prattling on about every little thing they spot, skipping along with both their pack of things and his own.  He thought making them carry his things as well as their own would get them tired enough that he wouldn’t have to listen to them chatter well into the night, but they manage to ask so many questions it makes his head spin.

“Do you think that anyone is going to like you if you never shut up?” he growls out, one night.  “I can barely hear my own thoughts, you keep spouting out all of yours.”

They blink.  Hunch their shoulders.  Shift their gaze off to the side.

“I don’t know a lot,” they mutter.  “I thought asking questions was how, uh, I learn?  My mom always had me tell her what was on my mind, so she could let me know if I was thinking of something wrong.”

They shrug their shoulders, gaze off somewhere, or sometime else.

“Well I’m not your mom,” he snaps.  “And neither is anyone else.  Trust me, no one wants to hear your thoughts.”

The kid looks up at him, hunched over and sitting down.  Their pupils shift, again.  Their expression goes carefully blank.

“Oh,” tThey reply.  “Sorry.”

Macaque lets out a huff.  He doesn’t want to be the bad guy here.  Not only is it a bad look, it also makes the kid less likely to trust him.  It’s a balancing act, where he toes the line.  Sure, the kid can take a bit more attitude than most, but you kick a dog enough and it bites back.

If you kick a dog, and then feed it nice food for a month before kicking it again, well...it takes it a lot longer to think of biting.

“Look,” he sighs.  “I’m saying this for your sake, kid.  I’m patient, but most people aren’t.  You think a regular demon will just tell you to shut up?”

He pauses, levies them an incredulous look.  “You’d lose a tooth or something, or an eye.”

They flinch, when he says eye.  He files that away for later.

“How about this,” He continues.  “You get 3 random questions per day while we walk, and 2 random comments.  Sound fair?”

Kid looks up at him, a little less despondent, and then they smile.

“Okay.” They turn to the fire, grabbing a piece of firewood from the pile and adding it to the fire.  

They glance up at Macaque, after a bit.  “Thanks.”

Macaque reaches over and ruffles their hair, and it doesn’t feel like there’s a fake smile on his face when Kid giggles and leans into the touch.

When it comes to weapons, the kid is clumsy.

Most long weapons are surprisingly difficult for them to wield.  Their height should be an advantage in that regard, giving them more of a reach, but instead all their long limbs are good for are getting hit whenever they slip with a staff or spear in hand.  They nick themselves a few times, and Macaque thinks he’s going to have to make a fuss with cleaning them up, but every time they get cut they pull out well worn gauze and some mixture, and carefully clean and wrap the wound themselves.

“My mom taught me,” they explain when he stares for too long.

Anything long is difficult for them to handle, so he throws those out the window.  Now, short blades they do well with, but they don’t like to stab.

“Curved blades,” he suggests, handing them a pair.  “They’re more for slashing.  Like a couple of extra claws, but longer.”

They hold them awkwardly, but with some careful correction they do a few practice swings, glancing over at Macaque for approval.

“Looks good,” he says, because they seem most steady with the twin blades, and that’s something to hone in on.

The kid beams.  Macaque finds himself smiling back.

They train for a couple months, not just with the curved blades.  A jack of all trades is far more useful than a master of one, after all, and letting them have at least a rudimentary understanding of how to use most weapons will make it so even if they’re without their typical arsenal, they’ll be able to make do.

That, and between the hand to hand combat lessons, will make them a force to be reckoned with, though they still refuse to strike with a killer’s intent.

All in due time, though.  Macaque would hate to waste all this effort to create something of use by scaring them off with his impatience.

They know of the Monkey King.

“I hear about him all the time,” they say, over dinner.  “He’s a very famous monkey!”

“Sure,” Macaque grumbles, ignoring the urge to punch their teeth in.

It’s not their fault, he knows.  Anyone who knows anyone would know of the Great Sun Wukong enough to—

“Have you met him?”

Now, there’s a question.  Something dark and pleased rises up when he hears it, because he can’t ruin the reputation of Sun Wukong to the world, but starting small never hurts, and why not score some trust with Kid along the way?

“We were actually pretty close,” he explains.

The look on their face when he shows them his scar and tells them how he got it is just priceless.

Shopping with them is...something else.  

He takes them to the market closeby, a few miles out from where they met in the woods.  They’re like a kid in a candy store, bouncing between market fronts and looking over every random object with interest.

“Some of the people here owe me favors,” they whisper conspiratorially to him, waving at a few of the shop owners.  “I helped them out!  It was nice.”

“Mhmm,” he nods along.

Kid is very, very insistent on favors.  The wording is important, and Macaque pockets it, pulling out the phrase whenever Kid starts to get too hesitant about doing what Macaque needs them to.

“What’s the whole favor business for, anyway?” he asks, because he genuinely is curious. 

As much as Kid’s ramblings can get annoying, they do provide insight.  Information on insecurities makes for a fun leverage.

“They owe me,” Kid replies.  “I do what they want, and then they can’t hurt me.”

Short, simple, to the point.  But oh so interesting, an insight Macaque files away.  He can’t go around hurting Kid after the favor is done, then.  That’s fine.  He has plenty of time to get them to heel without yanking on the leash.

A few tugs will do well enough, anyway.

They reach the weapon shop, and Kid is enamored with a purple pair of their preferred weapon, fluttering over to them and tracing the shapes with their fingers.  They’re practically bouncing on their feet, grabbing fistfuls of their pant legs to stop themself from snatching up their prize immediately.

They glance back to Macaque for approval.

“Not a bad color.” Macaque has always liked purple.  Maybe that’s why Kid doesn’t annoy him as much as most people.  They’re bright in personality, but wear the colors of shadows, and hide in the shade rather than stand out in the spotlight.

Kid preens at the compliment.

“Can-uh-is this what-can I have them?  Please?” They’re vibrating with excitement, eyes wide and earnest as they hope for a yes.

“Maybe,” Macaque replies, smooth as silk.  “It all depends on if you’re going to use them properly.”

That gives them pause.  Their excitement diminishes into confusion as they try and parse out just what Macaque means, ears twitching.

It is almost charming in a way, how they always seem to be moving a little bit.  Whether their tail is swaying back and forth, or they’re curling and uncurling their toes, or fluttering their fingers at their sides, they move.

“I...know how to use them,” they finally say.  “You taught me.”

“Practically,” Macaque replies.  “But you still won’t fight with them.”

Kid blinks again, tilting their head to the side.  Genuinely confused, befuddled, uncertain of his words.  He watches their eyes slide to the side, glancing around and trying to figure out what exactly he means.

“I…,” they start, haltingly.  “I thought I was?”

Macaque sighs, more out of exhaustion than annoyance, but they take it as such, ears drooping low.  Their tail brushes the floor.

“Intent, kid,” he says.  “You can use the weapons, but you don’t fight with them.  Not with intent.”

“Intent to what?” Kid asks, hesitant but insistent.

“Kill,” Macaque says, simply.  “These weapons are for killing.  If you aren’t going to use them like that, there’s no point in you getting them.  No point in continuing the favor.”

He can tell the second part hits them hard.  They stiffen, hands clasping in front of their stomach, tight.  Their feet overlap each other, toes curled, shoulders hunched, tail coiled around their leg.

Fidgeting, tense like a coiled spring, Macaque waits, because he’s seen this before.  Every time he pushes, they duck their head in quiet defiance for only a moment, before

They buckle, going limp.

“No,” they mutter.  “You’re right.  I’ll get intent, sir.”

Sir is new.

Macaque likes it. 

“Good.  Then they’re yours—” He gestures to the twin blades, with purple glossy handles and white grips.  “Take them.”

Their smile is smaller than it was before, when they pull the pair from the rack.  Their hands tremble when they hold them; they grip the blades tight to keep them steady.

Macaque pays for the blades, and ignores how still they’ve become.

With Kid’s preferred blades acquired, Macaque ramps up training.  He pushes them farther, because he’s laid the groundwork, and now the only way to get them to bend is to force them into the position.

Starting small is important.  Kid is still fit to scatter if he scares them.  It’s like placing a frog in a pot of boiling water.  It doesn’t work.  You set them in the room temperature water first, and then turn up the heat.  Slowly, still.  If he cranked it up now, well, they’d still jump out.

So, they start with a shadow clone.  Looks like a real person, but is detached enough from it that Kid won’t get too freaked when they attack it.  No blood, no screams, just smoke and mirrors to get them in action.

Maybe he should be concerned that he’s teaching them to fight a visage of him, but Macaque knows Kid isn’t stupid enough to think they can beat him.

That would be ridiculous.

He guides them through the motions, hands on their wrists as he tugs their arms into the correct positions, jerking their hand forward in a slashing motion and letting go just as they make contact with the clone, dissipating it with a single strike.

Typically his clones are more powerful, but an easy win to start will embolden them to strike harder next time.

“Nice job!” he pats them on the back, hard enough that they stumble a little from the force of it.

They’re smiling though, small and secretly pleased.  They love praise, he finds, desperate for approval.  A few kind words can feed them for a week, if he plans it out right.  Not that he’s always planning.  Some do just...slip out.

“Now,” he summons another clone, placing it a few feet away.  “Try this one on your own.”

Kid nods, turns, and settles into a stance.  They charge forward and strike.

Macaque smiles.

From clones, comes animals.

After all, he explains, they have to eat.  Sure, a true warrior eats less than most, but they still need to have food.  Starving themselves when they’re in the middle of training, in the middle of gaining muscle and strength, is stupid.  They need to bulk up.

“I don’t, um, usually eat much,” Kid says.

Macaque scoffs.

“That’s why you’re a stick.” He gestures to their general size, how their clothes hang off of them.

They fidget, shrugging a little.

“I guess,” they reply, which is their typical response when they don’t exactly agree but don’t have the courage to actually disagree.

“Well, I know,” he bites back, finding some sort of pleasure in how they shrink away from him.  “We need to make sure you know how to make food anyway.  You’re no use to me half-starved.”

He drums up options, glancing off into the forest they’re surrounded by.

“There’s plenty of food out here,” he says.  “We can fish in streams, shoot for birds, and there’s a human settlement just out west a couple miles, so—”

“We are not,” Kid interrupts, interrupts, voice harder than he’s ever heard, “Eating humans.”

Their eyes are sharp.  Angry, even.  So rarely does he find anger in them, find fire where there is cool terror and anxiety.  This is something noticeable.  Kid likes humans, enough to fight for them.

They’re trembling, waiting for his reaction.  Clearly, they’re terrified that he���ll snap at them, that he’ll shut them down.  But they don’t apologize.

Interesting.  How rare is it that Macaque sees them be brave?

“Fine,” he shrugs.  “They scream too much to be worth it, anyway.”

That much is true.  While he might not be showing off the six ears that beget his title, they’re still there, and shouting is nothing that he wants to deal with.

Kid relaxes, relief evident on their face that he’s not yelling at them.  It’s good that they’re smart enough to fear his reproach.

“But, that means you’re gonna have to learn to gut fish,” he jerks a thumb towards the stream behind them.  

Kid smiles, with all their sharp teeth on display.

“Sir yes sir!” They salute.

Macaque has to wonder who taught them such a motion as they jump up and rush to the water.

He stands and prepares the next lesson.

In the weeks following, they learn to fish with both a line and with their hands.  He teaches them to use a bow for the birds, as well as the bears.  They only kill one bear, because the amount of meat will last them ages and it’s foolish to waste such meat.

They trade some of it for spices in the human markets, once Macaque makes sure they know how to look human.  Apparently, it’s the only form they can shift into.  Not surprising, but disappointing nonetheless.

Kid takes to cooking with a gusto he doesn’t expect.

“I would help my mom with dinner,” they explain, setting up the fire one night.  “I didn’t know how she was making what she was, but I loved all of it.  I—”

They cut themself off, suddenly shy.

Macaque doesn’t pry.  Half because he doesn’t care, and half because he knows it’s a fruitless endeavor.  For most things, Kid can be cajoled into explanation, but if they truly don’t want to say anything, he’ll get nothing.  Which, considering his secrets, is fair enough.

“I...like that I can make something nice,” Kid finally admits, turning away from him to grab some spices.  “For you.”

Oh.

Somewhere along the line, Macaque stops finding them as annoying as they should be.

They smile at him like he’s a star, the sun, and years of being a moon, of being second best, makes that look something to covet.  If that means he lets them drag him into the forest to look at some rare plants, if that means listening to them ramble about the medicinal properties of said plants, well.

It’s only because it ingratiates them to him.  That’s it.

Physical affection, too, is something they desire.  It’s a reward.  That is it.  A reward for a job well done, a pick-me-up when they’re too morose to be useful, a new tool in his set to fix them into something worthwhile.

Say nothing to the times they shivered in the cold, slowly shifting towards him, pressed against his back to conserve warmth.  Macaque didn’t push them off because he was asleep.  Say nothing to the days they would shiver in the day, lack of proper fur like he had to keep them warm, and he’d lend them his scarf.  He didn’t need it anyway.  He’s stronger than they are, he can deal with the cold.  He’s setting an example.

He refuses to groom them.  Grooming is something private, something reserved for people who are no longer around, who left, who left and took the whole of him with them.  And Kid is not that someone.

Sometimes, though, he wonders.

Bright, like a star, they can shine in the darkest corners.  Hands bloodied from a carcass, they’re always gentle with the animals they kill.  Always certain to make the cuts clean and precise, so the animal dies quickly.

It’s a small mercy, but to choose to find that mercy and lean into it…

They’re not naive.  Neither was he.  Enough knowledge of a cruel world to understand hate, but enough kindness in a soul to push back against it.  But that type of soul is flighty, off to the next weeping child to console, the next problem to solve, the next world to save.

That type of soul leaves, and doesn't come back.

Better to crush that type of soul, then.

“Mac!” Kid calls, holding a full net.  “Look at how much fish I caught!”

Macaque fights a smile.

“Don’t call me that,” he barks out and wishes it hurt less when he sees them flinch.

“Sorry, sir,” they reply.  “I got excited.  We’ll have food for weeks!  I’ll dry some of the fish out for snacks, and I have some spices that would go really well with—”

They pause, flushing, ears pointed up and pink with embarrassment.  They bite their lip.

“Sorry,” They say, again.  “I know you don’t like me rambling…,”

Not typically, no.

But now…

“Well, if it’s about our food stores, it’s important,” he says, a justification that rings hollow.  “So go on, kid.”

They brighten, eyes wide and happy as Macaque becomes their sun, again.

Macaque basks in it, just a little, and thinks he can wait a little longer.

They get very good at using the blades.  Between traveling, getting food, making food, and training, they can hold their own pretty well.

Of course, they only really fight animals and clones.  Whenever Macaque suggests they spar with him, they lock up, terrified by the idea.  That’s fine, though, because Macaque wants them to be in top shape when they actually fight him, anyway.

They can manage against eight clones at once, dodging punches and slashing through them.  Of course, the clones aren’t at their top durability or strength, because Kid isn’t Monkey King levels of powerful like he is.

But, they seem to be doing fine, so he raises the intensity level a little bit.  Has a couple of the clones level up, so to speak, to keep Kid on their toes.  They can’t expect every enemy to be the same skill level every time.  They have to be used to surprises.

Maybe he does it too quickly, because Kid ducks, slashes, and is unable to dodge the kick to their side that sends them flying.

Their head cracks against a tree trunk just outside the clearing.

When they drop, they don’t move.

Macaque is up on his feet in an instant.  The clones vanish as he sprints across the clearing, at Kid’s side so fast his vision blurs with the motion.

“Shit,” he breathes.

Macaque lifts Kid up in his arms.  They’re limp in his grasp, eyes closed, and they look dead but he knows they’re not, he checks their pulse and they’re fine, it’s fine.  He wouldn’t kill them.  Not like this.  

He feels where their head hit the tree, and his hand comes back wet.  

“Shit, shit, shit.”

He reaches into Kid’s pockets, and finds that roll of gauze they always have on them.  They buy a new roll every time they go to the market, just in case.

He hasn’t needed to wrap wounds in a while, considering his healing...style, but he remembers how it goes.

Blood drips onto the ground, even as he wraps the wound as best and as tight as he can.  He folds Kid’s gangly long limbs so he can lift them up, and their forehead rests in the crook of his neck.  He can feel their breath on his fur.

Good.  They’re still breathing.

He squats down and presses hard against the dirt, lifting off the ground and speeding through the forest.  There’s a demon market a few miles out, there’s got to be a healer there, they can fix this.  They will, whether they like to or not.  No one says no to the Six-Eared Macaque, regardless of circumstance.

He hears a shuddering whine crawl out of Kid’s mouth.  A hand grasps at his shirt, as pained gasps reach his ears.

He can hear them so clearly.  Curse of six ears.  But, he can still hear their heartbeat, and even the gasps are a good sign.  They can still breathe.  It’s fine.

“Give me a minute, kid.” He whispers, forgiving the hand because they’re injured, that’s the only reason.  “We’ll get you fixed up, just sit tight.”

They whimper and curl up tighter, as their wrappings on their head stain quick.

It takes Macaque twenty minutes to get to the market.  Twenty minutes for eleven miles, as he rushed between trees, over boulders and hills, through towns.  It would have been quicker, but whenever he picked up too much speed, Kid would whimper as the wind whipped at their face and head wrappings.  So Macaque took it a touch slower, if only to keep him from hearing that noise.

They’d passed out a few minutes before he’d arrived at the market, though, so he’d managed to speed things up a little.

He slips between the shadows of market stalls, eyes searching for a healer.  They’re typically at one end of the market or the other, to keep the stench of blood and pus and rot from infected wounds away from the rest of the market.

He finds the tent and dashes inside.

The healer is some sort of fox demon, tail twitching as Macaque enters.  Sharp eyes fall on him and then Kid in his arms, and when Macaque speaks up his tone leaves little room for argument or reproach.

“They hit their head.” He doesn’t explain how.  It’s none of their business what he does with his tools.  “Fix it.”

The healer raises a brow, glancing at the two monkeys, one with sharp eyes and the other curled and trembling in the other’s arms.

“There is a fee,” comes a silk voice, near a hiss.  They point to their price.

Macaque summons a clone and sets Kid in its arms, growling under his breath.  He digs into his pocket and pulls out his coin pouch, digging into it and grabbing out the correct amount.  He slams it onto the counter with a force that would have caused the coins to scatter all over the room if not for how tightly he grips them in his fist.

They trickle down onto the desk with a clatter.  Macaque places his trembling fists at his sides, enraged enough that his eyes glow.  If not for the fact that this healer is needed, their blood would paint the tent and everything inside of it.

The wary look the healer sends him is proof that they understand that.

“Fix,” he growls.  “It.”

The healer gestures to the table off to the side, and Macaque has his clone set Kid down before dispelling it.

The healer moves Kid onto their side, lifting their head and glancing at the covered wound.  With a careful claw, they cut away the bandage, a swirl of magic creating a small bubble over the wound, keeping the blood from spilling.

The lack of pressure, the new sensation of magic, gets Kid to stir.

They twitch, fingers and toes curling as their eyes blink open.  Confusion paints their posture and expression, and they take in a hitching breath, ears swiveling to try and figure what is happening.

“M-Mo-Mac-h-hhhhhh,” they gasp out, trying to move.

The healer presses them gently back down onto the table, placing a careful finger to their forehead.

“Shhhh,” they whisper.  “Rest, child.”

Kid’s eyes slide shut.  They relax.

The healer first gets a rag and some water, carefully dabbing at the wound, cleaning away any dirt that may have gotten into the crack.  They use their claws to align the tiny pieces of the skull that have dislodged both from the wound and from the journey.  Then, they grab a jar off of the shelf, pulling off the lid and dipping their fingers in to scoop out an orange-yellow cream substance.  Gently, they rub it across the wound, and then wrap it again.

They use a spoon to put more of that cream into a smaller jar, and hand it to Macaque, along with a roll of gauze.

“The wound will heal in a few days.  Change the bandages twice a day and reapply the cream.  It speeds up the process and prevents infection,” the healer explains.  “The child may have a foggy memory of the incident, and may hallucinate.  Be aware.”

Macaque sticks the jar and gauze in his pocket and nods, picking Kid up.  He’s gentle about it, supporting their head on his shoulder.  They shift a little in their sleep, pressing their forehead against his neck.  Their fur brushes against his chin.

Their tail curls around his arm, a comforting squeeze.  The end wisps against his palm.

Macaque pointedly ignores how any of this makes him feel and heads off.

Back at camp, he sets Kid up with blankets and enough soft material for a pillow, making sure their head is elevated and kept away from the hard ground.  He sends a few clones out to grab firewood, setting up a flame and throwing some stuff together for a soup.

Macaque, on a whole, doesn’t cook much.  He’s content to chomp on apples and whatever fruits he finds.  Occasionally, he’ll cook some meat.  Otherwise, he just won’t eat often.  Kid’s the one who makes all the different concoctions.

He hopes the mix of spices is good here.

Kid wakes up a few hours later, when stars dot the sky and Macaque shivers a little at the night chill.  Bleary eyes stare up at the sky, pupils shifting to try and focus, though Macaque doesn’t see them settle.

He scoops a bowl of soup, still warm though the fire has died down, and shuffles to Kid’s side.

“Hey, kid,” he whispers.  

Macaque is not a delicate man.  But no one is here to see, no one who could matter, so he hooks an arm beneath Kid’s shoulders and lifts them up so they’re sitting up against his chest, though not fully considering the height difference.  God knows they won’t be able to sit up on their own, and he refuses to waste good soup.

Bleary eyes blink, staring up at him.  Recognition flickers in their gaze.

“Mom?” they croak.

Macaque.  Freezes.

He carefully lifts the bowl of soup to Kid’s mouth.

“Drink,” he says, pointedly ignoring their comment.

Hallucinations, the healer told him.  That’s all this is.  Kid isn’t seeing him, after all.

Kid takes a few steady gulps of the soup, turning away to breathe.  Macaque exercises patients by glancing up at the sky and ignoring how idiotic this is.  He’s not a babysitter.  He doesn’t do this.  He isn’t their parent.  He isn’t...

“Did Dad hurt you?” Kid turns back, looking up with eyes that stare through him rather than at him.  “Your eye…”

They reach up, fingers close enough to brush the line where his scar is, hidden beneath glamour.  Macaque pulls away, lifting the bowl up to Kid’s lips again in lieu of responding to that.

“Drink,” he snarls.

They flinch, nodding and getting the rest of the soup down.  He helps them back to their bed, and their eyes stare back up at the sky with that same faraway look.

“I’ll be better next time,” they whisper, quiet but strong.  “So you won’t get hurt.”

Macaque turns away, and doesn’t look back until he knows they’re asleep.  Hallucinations, he knows.  Hallucinations.  That’s the only reason they’re saying anything like that at all.  They don’t know him, he’s kept his heart under his cloak, never on his sleeve.  That's why he’s their teacher, so they will learn to do the same.

He watches the fire sway in the night, until he can find it in himself to sleep.

The next day goes mostly smoothly, with incoherent ramblings occasionally from Kid that Macaque tunes out.  He changes their bandages in the morning and then goes out, leaving a shadow clone to watch the camp while collecting food and other supplies.

They sleep through most of the day, but at night when he goes to change their bandages again, they start to squirm.

“Kid,” he starts, trying to hold them steady.  The wrappings are already off, and he’s trying to keep dirt from getting in.  

They kick and writhe, whispering and growling and making an assortment of whimpering noises he can’t make heads nor tails of.  He grips them tight enough to bruise, to keep them steady.

“Kid, I’m not going to hurt you!” he shouts.

“YOU HURT ME!” they scream, and it sounds so much as if the words had been torn from their throat that Macaque is surprised he doesn’t see blood splatter out of their mouth.  “YOU HURT ME!”

Their hand claws at his, and he drops them with a shout of pain as they tear off the skin of his knuckles.  They drop to the dirt with their own short cry of discomfort, curling in on themself as Macaque backs away.

“You—” They cough.  Their breaths are short and uneven.  “You-it-it’s like an earthquake,” their voice is quiet and strained and quick.  “Cracks beneath the surface.  Snow, melting from inside.  Inside out.  Cracking.  Melting.  I’m-I’m-I can’t see it.”

They gasp it out, trembling.

The water is boiling.  Why is Macaque the one burning?

They still. 

“You don’t look,” they finally say, a hoarse whisper.  “You don’t want to.  You don’t want to see.”

Macaque swallows.  Stares at the-the—

The child may have a foggy memory of the incident, and may hallucinate.

Child.

He shuffles forward, so, so gentle as he reaches toward them.  They don’t move when his hand brushes against their back.  They’re boneless when he pulls them toward him.  As if every last drop of them was poured into their words, they’re empty.

He patches their wound.  Sets them down.  They’re silent, asleep on the bed.

He sits, watches the blood from his knuckles drip to the ground.  It’ll heal on its own.  He can heal on his own.

He doesn’t sleep.

The next couple of days are easy.  Kid doesn’t say or do much, moving when prompted and sleeping when not.  Macaque ignores the buzz in the back of his head that feels like guilt.  He leaves Kid with a shadow clone and tears down a forest.  Anger is easy to deal with.  This is not.

A little under a week after the incident, Kid wakes up with a groan.

“Mac?” They rub at their eyes sitting up with a bit of effort.

Macaque fights the urge to tell them not to call him that.  He’ll save it for later.

“About time you woke up,” he says, with an easy grin on his face.

Kid blinks up at him, confused. 

“You hit your head,” he explains with a wave of his hand.  “One of my clones caught you off guard.  You were out for a few days.”

Kid blinks a few more times, tail and ears twitching.  They tilt their head to the side in thought.  They reach up and feel the back of their head, poking at the freshly healed wound.  They wince.

“Oh,” they say.  They smile up at him.  “Thank you for taking care of me.”

They stand up on shaky legs, shuffling a little before they steady.

“I’m gonna see about some food.  I’ll make you your favorite tonight!” They grin, all teeth, and vanish into the forest before Macaque can stop them.

He stares at their retreating form.  He sends a shadow clone to keep an eye on them, in case their wound acts up.

He sits and ponders their smile.

YOU HURT ME!

Thank you for taking care of me.

The strange thing is, he doesn’t think they were lying either time.

He eases them back into training, and they fall back into it with ease, the injury fading from view as their fur covers it up.  He’s still ever so careful the next couple of weeks.  The last thing he needs is for them to get hurt again.

They’re too much like him.  Too much like the sun, the hero, but the difference is that the hero could be like that because he was powerful.  The hero could strike down any foe, the hero had power.  It allowed him to be soft.

Kid does not have power.  They can get hurt.  They can die.

Their heart is on their sleeve.  They smile.  They curl up, sometimes, hiding their chest, but more often than not they’re splayed out, an open target.  Wide eyed, not completely naive, but just hopeful enough to get them killed.

And he...he doesn’t want them killed.

It’s sad, he thinks.  If they were stronger, maybe they could stay as they are.  But they aren’t, so he will rip their heart from their sleeve and teach them to keep it hidden.  

Whether they like it or not.

“You’re too...you. To be intimidating like I am,” he tells them, pacing.  “But there are different types of scary.  We’ll have to find the one that fits you.”

Kid is sitting on a rock, watching him pace.  Their eyes follow his movements like a pendulum, swinging back and forth.  They tap their palms on their knees, nodding along as they listen.

“Um, Mac?” They start.

He glares in their direction.  They shrink down, shoulders hunched.

“Sir,” they amend, quickly.  “Um, why do I have to be scary?”

It’s a valid question.  Annoying, but fair, and an explanation will get them to further listen.  Still, the fact that they don’t know, when they’re as old as they are (not that Macaque knows how old they are), is annoying.

“Because,” he stresses, rolling his eyes.  “When you intimidate, people won’t fight you.  Intimidation is making sure everyone in the room knows you’re the strongest one there.  Even if you’re not.”

And they won’t be, more often than not.  They’re crafty, and fast, but not strong.  In a standstill fight, they’ll lose a lot.  But that’s why the intimidation look has to be perfect.

“Oh,” they reply.  “Cool!”

“Of course it is,” he shoots back, puffing out his chest.  “Now, angry intimidation won’t work.  You don’t have a good angry face.”

“I don’t get angry often,” Kid shrugs.

“Exactly.  You don’t have it in you,” he rubs his chin in thought.  “We could go for the ‘danger behind a smile’ angle.”

He takes a few steps toward them.  With how they’re sitting, a rock as a prop up, he’s at eye level with them standing.

“We want a small smile, kid.” He reaches a hand towards their face, to help shape their grin.

They flinch back, and have their blades out in a flash.  Their eyes are wide, locked onto Macaque’s outstretched hand.

Macaque blinks, startled by their sharp shift in mood, and Kid comes back to themself, lowering their hunched shoulders.

“O-oh,” They breathe, letting their hands drop.  “Right.  Y-you’re right.  I think.”

They set the blades on the ground, shuffling their feet.

“...Alright,” Macaque continues.  He knows they were hit by a clone of his, and, well, the clones are made looking like him.  They might be more shaky than they say, over that.  He certainly has taught them to be quiet. “Now, you want the smile to be small.  Your eyes are wide, and your pupils are small.  You want to look like you’re a second from ripping their heart out and eating it in front of them.”

Kid makes a face.  “That’s gross,” they say.

“It’s an analogy,” Macaque groans, throwing his head back and slapping a hand over his eyes.  “Just do it.”

They try it, and Macaque has to give them a few pointers.  No, your smile is too wide.  Don’t fidget.  Keep your tail still.  Don’t look away.  Keep eye contact.

Finally, they have a good look.

“There,” he says, stepping back.  “That will make sure nobody messes with or hurts you, kid.”

Their expression drops away into something blank, and Macaque stills.  He wouldn’t tell them, but when their expression is empty it’s far scarier than their smile.  Better they not know that lest they use it to an excessive degree.

“Um,” they start, a little shy.  “But, you do this.  And you got hurt?”

Their eyes trace the scar hidden beneath glamour.  Macaque turns so that eye is out of view.

“It doesn’t always work,” he mutters, casting a glare in their direction.  “Because some people know that they’re stronger than anyone, so intimidation doesn’t work.”

“What do I do then?” they ask, with all the wide eyes of a student expecting their teacher to have the perfect answer.

“You claw at any part of them you can reach,” Macaque replies.  “And you run.”

He ramps up their training.  Any time they aren’t traveling is spent sparring, practicing, cooking, hunting, no free time.  No time to play or joke around.

They’re confused, at first, by the change of pace.  They try the same tricks, the same comments.  Macaque does not budge.

“Quit it.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Stop acting like a child.”

They quiet, eventually.  Learn to be smaller and less bright, keep their light within themself so it doesn’t attract too much attention.  They learn to keep their thoughts inside, following orders with a blank face and the occasional grin.

They still get overexcited, and sometimes Macaque bites his tongue.  If it’s just around him then it’s fine in small doses.

It’s not because he’s scared of their light going out.  It’s not because he likes it when they ramble and drag him along until they get him to grin.  It’s not.

He gets them a new outfit.  Their old one is worn, the fabric thin and worn and ripping.  They sew up the patches and clean it as best they can, but considering the age it’s soon to be a lost cause. 

They do love shopping, so he strings them along.

They sprint through different styles.  Everything is new and interesting to them, as if they spend time outside of the present and are then shocked by the new future.  He trails them along different stalls, pulls them away from items they shouldn’t touch, and critiques outfit after outfit.

They find the right one, though he’s quick to tell them how rare that is, so they don’t get a big head.  Besides, with how tall and gangly they are, finding something that fits them is pretty difficult.  It takes them two hours to find something right, two hours better spent training, moving around.

He goes up to pay for it while they spin around and jump excitedly in their new look, and his eyes widen at the price.

“Enchanted pockets,” the tailor explains.  “They hold up to a full pack’s worth of items without showing it.”

And, well, Macaque didn’t expect to spend this much.  He turns around, because they don’t need those pants, they can carry a pack just fine, and—

Kid sees him looking and waves, gesturing to their new outfit and striking a valiant pose.

Macaque sighs, softens, and pays.

They tell him the flaps on the side are just like his, something excited and happy in their tone, and he grins.  If they’re just like him, then they’ll be smart.  If they’re just like him, they won’t make silly mistakes like trusting people, like getting attached, like getting hurt.

The issue with that is when you stare at a person who is functionally a mirror, you start to see all your flaws.

His final challenge isn’t supposed to work.

Kid has barely been able to spar with him, when he gives them his challenge.  They spar and they don’t fight hard, and Macaque always wins.  

But then they say they have to go, and Macaque knows they’re not ready (secretly, they’ll never be ready because they’ll never be powerful enough, but if he keeps them within arms reach he can make sure they stay away from him) so he picks something he knows they can’t do.

Kill.

He expects them to get to where that demon is and balk.  He expects that they’ll try but their fears will halt them in their tracks, and they’ll come back with their tail tucked between their legs and apologies spilling from their lips.  He expects that he’ll smile, and say that they’ll just have to stay with him, then, now won’t they?  And then they will, and everything will be fine and good and right.

He doesn’t need or want anyone, but...he doesn’t mind if they’d stay.

He doesn’t know them.  He doesn’t know what they’ve lived through, what they’ve done before.  He doesn’t know how deep their ties to favors run.  He’s never asked, he doesn’t know.

Two days after he tells them to kill, they come back with a severed head.

They’re smiling, when they do.  Their tail curls around their leg and they’re trembling, but they’re smiling like they always do.  Macaque is supposed to be able to tell when someone is lying, and he’s supposed to know them and read them like an open book, but Kid smiles and it looks real.

They’re trembling.  He barely hears what they’re saying, over the sound of their thudding heartbeat.

The eyes on the head are sewn shut.  He asks, and they give him an excuse, and he doesn’t press because he never has.  He’s never cared enough to ask about their past, their feelings, never dug deep enough.  He thought they were surface-level, because they’re quiet, and they don’t talk about themself too much beyond comments about their mother.  He’s staring at a stranger he’s known for over half a year.

He’s not supposed to be caught off guard.  So self-assured, he plans his schemes with the knowledge that he understands all the moves the player will make.  Now he’s in the dark, lost with the simple sight in front of him.

Macaque doesn’t understand, but if Kid’s a stranger he’ll keep them as one.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two gifts.  He’d gotten them months ago, finding a jeweler who could enchant the token, and a book binder at the market that could create a tome practically infinite in space but small enough to be a notebook.

He holds it out, and then they smile so wide he thinks it could crack the porcelain of the mask of indifference they’re wearing so perfectly.  They strangle their tail as if it were their neck, and he knows that must hurt.

They have blood, staining their feet.  Every part of them is pristine, but the dried blood is crusted on their feet, covered with dirt.

He watches them go, tired eyes and bloody feet.

He makes his dinner by himself.  He makes the fire by himself, he sits by the fire by himself.  He sleeps by himself.  He travels by himself.

There is no voice, pointing out different flowers.  He doesn’t hear about this certain mixture that can cure this illness.  He doesn’t get any anecdotes, he doesn’t hear the patter of feet as they run ahead.

It’s quiet, save for the typical sounds of the forest.  As it should be. 

The Six-Eared Macaque walks alone.

Just like a warrior should be.  Isn’t that why they left, to be alone?  Isn’t that what he wanted?

Macaque ends up back on that cliff, where they stared up at the sky on New Year's.  He never cared much for the holiday, but the Kid was insistent, so he'd let them drag him along. 

He closes his eyes, and for the first time when he thinks of fireworks he doesn't see Wukong's smile. When he opens them, the sky looks devoid of stars. 

The moon looks lonely, without them.

.

.

.

Centuries later, a silver token with amethyst gemstone eyes buzzes in Spirit’s pocket.

[btsandvmin]

Ask: Reply - 2021.03.18

I don’t know what might be the best way to go about asks, but for now I’ll try to answer asks as they come and when I can/want to I’ll collect them together in a post instead of answering indivudually. I’ve seen other Vminie blogs with similar formats and have done a few collection posts like this before, and it really seems to be the easiest way to digest your questions.

Let’s go through what you’ve sent me today as I finally opened up this blog for asks again. :)

Topics:

Ask 1 - Vmin’s emotional connection vs ship moments Ask 2 - KTH1 and creative control Ask 3 - What makes a ship big? Ask 4 - Thoughts on Tae/kook’s relationship (+ edit on other post) Ask 5 - When did they first mention the dumpling fight? Ask 6 - A little about me and my big analysis Ask 7-9 - Thank yous and nice things

Thank you all for waiting. <3 Read more under the cut.

Ask 1 -  Vmin’s emotional connection vs ship moments

I agree with you. I might not look at other ships as focused as I do with Vmin, but I would guess no other ship comes close to how much Vmin have shown their emotional intimacy in many ways over the years. Not to mention how many times even BTS themselves point out Vmin’s bond as special. Not to mention to begin with we shouldn’t be insecure about their bond based on their interactions with others. We should judge Vmin based on how they interact with each other.

All members have skinship (though some more than others), but both Jimin and Tae are super comfortable with touching, sometimes even with strangers. Looking at moments you can ship all ships, and there are even those that believe their ship to be real for almost all ships in BTS at this point. Why? Well because if you focus on your ship and put emphasis on the moments between them as bigger or more important, you can find “proof” for anything. Because that’s just how close and shipworthy all of the dynamics in BTS are. They all love each other, and shippers can find their own preferred love amongst them. 

I think we also need to remember all the things Vmin has CONFIRMED that other shippers try to prove with their own ships. How is tae/kook hugging or ji/kook cuddling supposed to make me feel insecure about Vmin when they have that too AND call each other soulmates in a song that made one of their procucers cry and other things like Namjoon getting goosebumps thinking about their bond? Taehyung cried reading his letter to Jimin and Jimin said no other member would likely truly understand why he cried. Taehyung has called Jimin the warmest person he knows and his one and only best friend. AND AGAIN, SOULMATE. The years of material we have show us again and again how important they are to each other and how they grow and work hard together to make their bond even stronger.

Vminies, please appriciate what we have because we are spoiled.

Ask 2 - KTH1 and creative control

Honestly this is a difficult one. The thing is that we know that likely to some degree Big Hit will always be involved with what the boys do and release. But I also think their freedom to express themselves is better than most idol companies, and BTS whole brand is to be as genuine as possible. As for what Tae would be asked to tone down is hard to say exactly, but we do know that Yoongi and Namjoon (and other members) have been pretty dark and honest in their lyrics. I know from a Vmin perspective it could be something either LGBT+ or even directly Vmin related, but there isn’t enough to go on for me to make a good guess. We literally just know that he was told to tone it down. It doesn’t even have to be about the subjects or lyrics, even though that does seem the most likely. But we do know that Taehyung wants to release something that reflect him and that he can be proud of, so I am sure no matter what we get they will be his honest feelings. I am very excited and a bit scared thinking about Tae’s mixtape if I am being honest.

That being said, I think there could be lines that they should be careful not to cross. I think it’s possible with Taehyung’s personality who “doesn’t beat around the bush” that he might want to express more than what might be appropriate. Not just from Big Hit’s perspective but for his own sake. Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying Tae is an idiot who doesn’t know what’s good for him. I just think at times he might be rebellious against his own better judement because it is something so important to him. For me talking about the Christmas song is partly such a moment, but I still think he was careful and ambiguous enough about it, even though he allowed himself to complain. Still, I am sure if it is about sexuality or even a relationship he knows the risks of being too open about it and would likely understand the need to be careful, or tone things down, if that was the case. A mixtape/album is not something done rashly or in the moment, so no matter what we get I am sure it will have been checked and considered by Tae and by Big Hit.

So basically I suppose the delay could be about creative control but mostly I really think it’s about Taehyung wanting to do well and writing when he feels like it without pressure. Which I feel is a very healthy approach by him honestly. We know mixtapes takes time and we know how Hobi felt about his first one, so I really think we should just give him time and I am sure we will get something amazing.

Ask 3 - What makes a ship big?

Aaaaaaw~! Thank you so much for your love and compliments. I feel like am very lacking in many areas still, but regardless I am glad my posts are appriciated. If I can bring a smile to anyones’ face that is an acomplishment to be proud of. Thank you. <3

As for what makes a ship big or not is of course quite subjective. For me at this point I would say ALL BTS ships are big ships. Not comparing them to each other but just by the huge amount of fans they all have. (I hope you don’t have to learn the pain or liking a rare-pair from a small fandom T-T). Almost all the ships in BTS even have analysis and people who believe in them, and I think that is partly an effect of size as well. That being said I think the bigger a ship is the easier it is for it to grow more. Which is why it is no surprise a lot of BTS ships that were popular right at the start are still the biggest ones now. But with more material and more fans there comes communities focused on their own ship, and they all grow as they get more moments. Vmin too have had a few times when they blow up for a while and gather new curious shippers. Friends is clearly a great example of this. Even Sweet Night seem to be something of a turning point for some to start shipping Vmin. All ships will grown in size with each passing year as we are always given new material. Even if a ship doesn’t get a lot, it will likely get enough to keep fans engaged.

For me I would say the loudest and the most agressive are often the biggest  (more bad apples the bigger the basket you know) and I think we can see some size indications by what ships trend more often etc. Ships can also be big in different ways and in different forums... Like how ji/kookers have taken tumblr as their platform while tae/kookers seem to be on youtube comments a lot.

All in all I don’t think size matters much though. Especially not with BTS where all ships get a lot of material and has their own fans who create for, share and dicuss about their pair. Popularity to me is not really something I think too much about, and honestly I think the way only the most popular pairs seem to get attention in the form of “worry” etc. is very telling. If JK and Hobi share a bed and cuddle and celebrate JK’s BD together, or Hobi post them having a picknick outside their house at night no one bats an eye... But if it was JK with one of Vmin? Confirmed to be dating and all other shippers get worried. 

Going into detail why ships gets big is a different conversation though. :P I hope I understood your ask correctly. Basically I consider all BTS ships as more or less big (perhaps with the exception of 2seok).

Ask 4 - Thoughts on Tae/kook’s relationship

So I got two Tae/kook asks today, seemingly because Tae/kook has had a lot of moments recently. I deleted the first one, but this one I feel is safe enough to share. I’ve talked about tae/kook before... (HERE for example) and I stand by that now too. I don’t have to dismiss other ships to feel confident about Vmin’s love for each other.

Tae/kook has always had a very physical and playful dynamic. Even when Tae changed and toned down this side of him we got moments where he played with JK or they hugged or cuddled close. I do see a little change now after ITS but mostly in that Tae seems to initiate more, not that it looks different in nature. I think when Tae changed his dynamic with JK lost a lot of it’s “main focus” as Tae wasn’t as playful. Look at JK with Jin as a comparison and I think JK in general is drawn to hang with people who are happy and fun to tease. 

Anyways, about their bond I do think tae/kook are close but as grown men they don’t have the same relationship that they used to when they were younger. They simply grew up and their dynamics changed. They haven’t had a lot of more serious conversations, but I think now that distance have become a little shorter after ITS. I think Tae/kook has a great bond that is underrated by many in the fandom but overrated greatly by their shippers. They clearly love each other and have fun with each other and can be very comfortable physically. 

But are they as close as Vmin? Personally I really doubt it. And even if Tae/kook would be real why should that have any impact on Vmin? Surely you wouldn’t think they are together but cheating or something drastic like that. I am also not sure why you would be particularly worried about tae/kook based on physical interactions alone though... I mean, both Hope/kook, Tae/jin, Ji/kook and Vmin also have a loooot of very intimate looking moments if you ask me.

You don’t have to worry about Vmin. If Tae has gushed about Jimin being special to him from 2013 to 2020 I don’t see why 2021 would be any different.

I also got a reply to this post where I mentioned the tae/kook ask I deleted. I must first say that it was my mistake to write JK’s lips and not his lip mole. I have edited the post to make clear he talked about the mole and not the lips.

Either way, thank you anon for giving perspective and adding your thoughts to the moments. Not to mention moments like this happen for all members and I don’t think we can draw any strong conclusions from them saying another members is sexy or something similar. But yeah, people pick and choose what they will remember, and often focusing on the negative will leave a bigger impact than the positive.

Ask 5 - When did they first mention the dumpling fight?

Hi and don’t worry. I honestly think a lot of Vminies don’t know about this because the first time was such a small moment not many would pay attention and remember it. We knew about it since 2016 where Tae offhandedly mentioned him and Jimin fighting about dumplings once.

I don’t even have the actual source for the first time Tae mentioned it, but it was all the way back in July 2016 in an interview with @star1 magazine, so we know it happened before that.

Then Tae got asked about it on a post it during a BST era fansign as well. Also, did you know the reason they fought was 💜?

Yeah.... Let’s just say I am not surprised at all to hear their dumpling fight having more meaning than first let on. As with most things brought up in the lyrics of Friends it’s something we already knew about since before. I also talked about this in my post Vmin analysis - “Friends”. (Though at that point we hadn’t heard them speak much about it and didn’t know how big of a deal it seemed to be.) It makes me wonder if the other things they talk about in the lyrics might also have more meaning than we know. 

Personally I think the reason we even got them talking about the dumpling incident so much is thanks to JK in the carpool karaoke. When asked what Vmin would fight about he was the one who mentioned dumplings and likely brought more attention to it than if it would simply have remained as one of the many lyrical anecdotes in the song. I am glad we got to know more, because honestly the dumpling incident seems to have been a pivotal moment in Vmin’s relationship.

Ask 6 - A little about me and my big analysis

Hi and thank you so much for the lovely compliments. Trying to consider all kinds of possibilities I feel should be obvious if you truly want to analyse something, but sadly I think when it comes to observing real people and being invested emotionally that becomes really difficult. Me too have to hold myself back a lot, because in the end there is always going to be room for error. And if I am wrong, who will be hurt? Likely all of you who listen to me and take my words into consideration. So I rather be upfront about the risk of being wrong than to speak too confidently and accidentally ending up misleading someone. I am really so happy and proud over Vminies who can stand back and not become delusional despite everything we actually have (this includes myself, because it’s not always easy to not get caught up in theories).

As for who I am it’s of course ok to ask. I am from Sweden and is 30 years old. (English isn’t my native language so I hope you forgive my mistakes, I know I have a lot of them in my posts). I’ve been a BTS fan since 2016 and Vmin fan almost since the start. I have been a fan of other groups long before BTS too and was pretty deep into the Japanese idol culture before fell for K-pop. For some additional info I also work with marketing and project managing and have a degree in conflict resolution. Thanks for being curious about me. :)

About my big analysis I am working on it still, and of course I hope to post it as soon as I can. I am a bit hesistant in bringing attention to some things though, as I have seen some of my previous theories and speculations be regarded as fact. I don’t want Vminies to run with my interpretations in a way that make them confident in Vmin being real. So yeah, I do want to post it, but I am also a bit worried what reactions it might get. I try very hard to remind you all that my theories are only speculations and we won’t know anything for sure (unless it would be confirmed). It still isn’t finished yet though, but I’ll keep working hard.

Ask 7 -  Thank you for the fic rec

Thank you! I am glad you enjoyed it. I haven’t had too much time to catch up on reading and just added a lot from my bookmarks, but good thing it was so appriciated by you all. Vmin writers truly are amazing aren’t they? :) 

(And don’t worry about me getting bad asks. I think I would have quit a long time ago if I let them bother me too much.)

Ask 8 - Just a very sweet anon

Thank you! I’m ok. Not great, but ok. Life goes on, you know? But I feel like I finally have the energy to blog again, and honestly that feels pretty great. It feels like I’ve been gone forever, but I hope you will still enjoy my musings and thoughts as you send me questions and I write new posts. :3

Ask 9 - The whole world is different from yesterday~ Just with your joy~

Omg what a sweet thing to say, thank you so much, you are putting a big smile on my face right now. I am glad you enjoy and understand my thoughts so much. I know many of you have missed my thoughts and even asked me when I would open my asks again, and so much always happen with Vmin too... (There is literally enough material to write books about them.) Thank you for waiting and being so understanding. I am happy to be back too. <3

Thank you everyone for you asks and I hope you liked this new format. :) I’ll try to keep it up and if you have any thoughts and opinions feel free to share them.

[yyxy-seph]

I wanna try to make a writing request, of you say no tho I totally respect it m8.

But what if... Sephiroth has a timid gf who's literally attached to her old (and very raggy) baby blanket? (Despite being a grown woman) and like... she likes to cuddle it when upset? Like that thing is her most treasured earthly possession?

How would he react to finding out something that odd?

...again it's fine if you don't want to take the rq but uh, I uh... could relate to a prompt like this lol.

If u do decide to do it, sfw plz and maybe some fluff?

God bless and have a lovely day!

Hello! Thank you so much for requesting. I hope you’re also having a blessed day. Sorry for taking a bit on this but here it is.

- I don’t think he’d judge you for this at all.

- He might not be used to it at first but just give him a little time.

- When he is used to it, he’ll think that you’re super precious for it and hopes that he gives you the same feeling of comfort and protection.

- He’ll even grab it for you along with some snacks when you’re having a rough day.

- We all know that Seph is a sensitive guy so I think he’ll certainly understand and encourage you to do what feels best for you.

- and here’s an imagine I also made for you!

My Muse

Pre-Nibelheim! Sephiroth & Female! Reader

Description: An imagine in which Sephiroth is in a bad mood and he counteractively takes it out on you. You proceed to your prized possession trying to brush it off until he comes to you, feeling bad and you two have a sweet breakthrough.

—————

It was one of those days.

Sephiroth was on edge, with his phone to his ear, and his boots making the floor creak as he paced around.

The mixed sounds and aura of his anxiety were also putting you on edge. He was on the phone with Lazard, rejecting a mission request for whatever reason. He didn’t really like to keep you in the loop of his SOLDIER duties as he said he never wanted you to worry about his job. Although that’s just him reassuring you that he’ll be fine, You somehow still find it...disappointing. Truthfully, you have a right to know since you two are together.

If his life is put in jeopardy, so could yours be put in harms way. But then again, He’s Sephiroth. Maybe you shouldn’t worry. But he makes it so hard with the constant movement, twitching eyebrows, and-

“I’m not going on the mission. And that’s final!” He finally hung up the phone, having decided the conclusion.

He placed his phone on the table; heaving a sigh so hard, his back fell forcefully, revealing his stress and concern for the situation.

“Sephi, are you okay?” You asked in a warm tone.

He turned around swiftly. “What does my face say, Y/N? The only people I care for are turning their backs and dropping like flies before me. And how do you think that makes me feel?”

“I-I...”

“It’s as if people don’t even take the grain of salt I try to extend with my whole...heart-“

He cut himself off, suddenly gazing my way.

I looked him in his eyes in return.

“Will you leave too?”

“I never said that.” I spoke up.

“What do I look like? Huh, Y/N? Do I look heartless? If so, Is that why people assume I care less about the people I surround myself with? The fame doesn’t concern me, my power doesn’t control me. And why do I still get the short end of the stick?

“Seph, I-“

“You know what? Save it. I don’t even wanna talk to you right now.”

What even just happened? You tried to speak but he cut you off twice. This is his defense mechanism. He tries to shut people out when upset.

While even in the heat of the moment, he instantly regretted talking to you like that. Indeed, he does have a heart. Otherwise, you two wouldn’t be together. His heart is the reason you are together in the first place. You can empathize with his misunderstood and heavy heart. You want to figure him out and give him the love he deserves.

In silent retaliation, you stormed upstairs to your room to tend to your low spirits.

A few moments later, his heart began to ache while his face held a bit of sorrow. He felt so bad for lashing out at you. He sighed to himself once more.

“I have to do better. I love her too much to be acting like this.” His feet lead him upstairs to you, face down in your pillow with your precious blanket in your arms. That blanket was your most prized keepsake. The warmth in each fold seemed to shield you like no one else. It comforted you with Its scented memories and lighthearted aura.

No one seemed to understand your attachment and you don’t really care to explain it. What matters the most is that you know its significance and it’s your comfort.

There were a few occasions like this where after an argument or a hard day of work, you’d come right home to your possession. Sephiroth never really noticed this until the third time he’d caught you with it. And this time would count as the fifth.

He treaded lightly once more in your room, trying to get a feel of your mood.

“Y/N...” He started, “I’m- I’m so sorry. I don’t-“

“I thought you didn’t want to speak to me.” Your muffled voice sounded through the cloth.

“And I understand if you don’t want me to speak to you as well... I’ll give you your space. I’m sorry, my love.” His silver locks surpassed his face, nearly sinking to the floor as his head dropped.

Before he could leave, even with your timid heart, you spoke your mind.

“Why do you always do this, Seph? You cut me off and shut me down when I try to help you. And it never fails...” You say, clutching the blanket a bit tighter.

You continue on, “And you wonder why people think you’re heartless. It’s because when they extend their heart to you, you put it aside and make your SOLDIER duties your main focus. I try my hardest to get your attention and affection because I love you. And I know you love me too because I see it; but what will it take for you to settle down and just make time for those you love?”

Those words made a bigger impact than you initially thought. You said all the right things to get through to him and this day forward he really would take your love-driven advice.

Your relationship is not toxic at all. You both are just trying to understand each other as a new couple. Arguments can be healthy. Without them, there’s no breakthrough. And this was definitely what you two needed.

He lifted the covers up on your bed and got in next to you. You turned around to face him.

Your glistening cheeks appeared, showing that you had been crying. He grazed his thumb over your cheeks, wiping them dry.

“You’re so right. And I’m dead wrong. I want to be better for you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Please try and communicate with me more. Don’t shut me out.” You added.

“I promise, dear.” He replied with a kiss on your forehead.

Right then, His green, cat-like eyes were staring deeply into yours. You blushed naturally, knowing you could never resist those gems.

He chuckled, already figuring you out. Until,

“Oh.. I keep meaning to ask. What’s with the blanket? I’m seeing a pattern here. I’m just curious.”

You swallowed, preparing to be judged. “I-it’s my source of comfort. I’ve had it since I was a child and... I’ve never seemed to detach myself from it.” You explained shyly.

His eyes trailed down to the intricate details on the cotton piece.

Not knowing what was going through his mind you said, “Sorry, I know it’s weird. Just forget I said anyth-“

“No! No. I understand. It’s your muse. I sort of have something similar.”

Your eyes lit up. “Really? What’s that?!”

He glanced to the side, moving his hair from over his chest and around his shoulder.

“You’ll laugh at me.”

This was honestly the most vulnerable you think you’ve ever saw him. And you liked that he was able reveal this quality of himself to you.

“Now, why would you think that? Just tell me, love.”

“My.....masamune.”

“I knew it!”

He smirked.

“Yeah, I can’t really explain it either but It’s my relief as well. I get this stream of confidence and comfort when holding it. Maybe it’s because I’ve been with it since my childhood as well.”

“We relate quite a bit, don’t we?”

“We do.” He agreed, pulling you closer to his body under the covers.

You two kissed, completely enamoring each other in warmth and love.

“Oh, Sephiroth.” You say.

“Hmm?”

“Call Lazard back. You’re doing that mission. You have to face your one-winged angels.”

He grinned once more at your clever words.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

________