#and hopefully watch more lighthearted episodes with Mi

[tarashima]

I'm glad to see you're back! I was hoping you could answer something about yesterday's episode. Because yes, I did think the whole thing was sad but people keep talking about redemption and I don't really see it? It felt pretpr out of nowhere tbh

I have other asks to reply to but I kinda wanted to deal with this first while it’s still fresh in my head (and I admit, it doesn’t work that well atm, thanks a lot, vrains). And I’m sure there are people who can put this together better than I can, but here it goes: 

This is still not a complete redemption for Ryouken’s character, he has some more steps to take. But what we got in this episode was the biggest, and most important, choice Kougami Ryouken has ever had to do since he was a child. 

We all know he chose to do the right thing by saving Yuusaku and the other victims from the Lost Incident, a choice not easy to make as an 8-year old that probably knew next to nothing about what it would mean beyond saving the kids. 

After that, Ryouken never again did a choice that wasn’t beneficial for his father and his goals. He followed without question and without hesitation as being the ruthless leader of a terrorist organisation. Saying Kougami isn’t the one to blame for Revolver’s actions is highly incorrect, but it’s equally incorrect to say Ryouken didn’t have a choice as well. 

(Although, don’t forget that Ryouken has constantly been plagued by guilt for all his actions, something to always brush aside for the greater good)

Then Kougami dies, Revolver loses against Playmaker and stops the Tower of Hanoi, failing to fulfil his father’s wishes and leave for three months. 

And what those three months did to him was a huge change in his methods. 

Because suddenly, his honour is even more significant. He never used the fact that he knew Playmaker’s identity in season 1, but he’s not allowing any of the other to do it either as soon as they know. 

Suddenly, putting innocent lives on the line isn’t the right way anymore. The Knights care little to nothing about SOL at the moment when they caused plenty of havoc in the past. Reactivating the Tower as it was would’ve solved all the problems with the Ignis and again cause eventual millions of casualties, but instead got turned into a big scanner, searching for Lightning and Windy. 

Then we get to the final battle, and as the duels continue, and as everyone keeps being hurt/killed, Revolver’s dormant but still existing sympathy keeps growing. Spectre’s death shakes him, he shows no approval of how Windy treats Soulburner and Flame, and he definitely doesn’t approve of how Lightning handles Playmaker and the unfair duel against Kusanagi. 

(it’s really hard to just show with screenshots, but Revolver’s voice is very soft and filled with concern through the whole duel with Kusanagi)

And as Soulburner gets defeated, he gets just as shocked as Playmaker. 

Then we have his own duel against Lightning, and suddenly, he’s not as hostile against Ai, speaking with him in a much softer and calmer voice compared to what he did in season 1 and when he returned in his season, while still showing the unchanged hostility towards Lightning.

So, doing this long journey, it’s clear that something changed in Revolver. He’s suddenly not as ruthless as he was, or rather, he’s much more selective with it instead of showing it towards everything and everyone. 

Lightning using Jin as a hostage was, however, the true crossroad. 

The choice was simple; finish Lightning and kill him, Jin and Spectre for the sake of humanity, or stop the attack and try to come up with another way of defeating Lightning that didn’t involve sacrifices. 

Will he continue down the path as Revolver, the ruthless cyber-terrorist who doesn’t care about the cost as long as the greater good is achieved? Or will he do the choice he did as a child a second time and save innocent lives with uncertain consequences for everything else? 

Making the first choice is easy, and he almost does it, just not as confident as he’s been in the past. 

But he doesn’t. Yes, Playmaker is the one who talks him out of it, but the choice is still his. And he chose to once again be the child he once was. 

He took the biggest step towards a better future that lights up his path. 

The result? Him dying. And he smiles, as he remembers the carefree days as a kid who was nothing but excited about the world and the future. 

And nothing makes it even more clear like his final words, because the journey he’s done from season 1 is astounding when you put it in perspective and when you remember how he has continued to become less hostile and impersonal, and instead much softer towards Ai: 

Revolver isn’t done with his redemption arc. But he’s there. He made the right choice and has taken the first steps on the road towards a better future. 

I’ve rambled enough now, and my eyes hurt from tears, so I’m going to stop now. 

Thanks for asking, anon, I hope I made it somewhat clearer for you 

[koyurim]

where your eyes linger 1-2

excuse....me..... who said this level of cuteness was permissible.......

i stumbled upon ‘where your eyes linger’ and decided to watch it since it’s short and currently airing (meaning i can’t blow through it! and will have to wait!). i was really intrigued by the premise of a gay korean show that was cute and lighthearted and the first two episodes set up what will hopefully be the beginning of an adorable love story. 

kang gook and tae joo already share an intimacy and long history of friendship and bodyguard-master relationship. they’re very comfortable with each other and im interested to see if we’ll delve more into their background. the two have undeniable chemistry and i love that the show is not shying away from giving the two classic cute kdrama moments. 

im surprised the show’s upfront with the power dynamic that exists between the two and i hope that it will be addressed in a substantive way. while kang gook doesn’t seem to resent tae joo for the position he’s in (hate the way dad threatened tae joo with kang gook), kang gook is very aware of their difference in status and seems resigned to the fact that tae joo is ‘above’ him. tae joo, being the one with the power, can act as flirty and childlike as he wants. i’m sure tae joo acts this way so that he can be closer to kang gook, but i wonder how conscious he is of how much power he has over kang gook. kang gook, on the other hand, can only PINE so i feel like most of the momentum from the show will come from tae joo (i love me a good pine). 

it’s nice to see there’s a space where kang gook can disregard status (when they fight) and how he seems to hold firm in not wanting to give up that place. i’m excited to continue watching to see how the dynamics of their relationship shift and how hye mi shakes things up. fingers crossed the lightheartedness of the show persists till the end!!!!! 

[darknesstodawnuniverse]

Whumptober Day 7 - Guilt

Is it just me or are these getting longer and longer lol. Okay so life with my kids is crazy lately with daddy gone for a bit. So only one again today. Maybe I can play catch up this weekend when I have grandparents around to help with the minions. As usual, unbeta’d so be forgiving :) 

You can find this on ff.net and Ao3 for your reading convenience as well.

Read the rest of my Whumptober 2017 prompt fills here.

This one is a Modern AU - my first attempt at such for this fandom so...we’ll see what you think.

“Do you have a shot?”

Aramis lifted his head from where he was looking through the scope of his rifle, narrowing his eyes at the scene before him. He hoped that perhaps he had misread the situation, but it appeared the same as it had through the scope. He lowered his head again, focusing on the magnified image.

“Diablo, do you have a shot?” Athos demanded over their comms.

“Negative. It’s not clean,” he replied without taking his eyes off the scene playing out down on the docks.

He watched their target press his gun more firmly against the underside of Porthos’ chin. Usually Porthos bulk was an asset, but right now it only served to completely shield the man Aramis wanted very badly to shoot.

“Retriever, what about you?”

Aramis waited hopefully as d’Artagnan’s voice crackled across the comms a moment later.

“Negative. I don’t have the angle. And we’ve got to talk about that code name. If he gets to be something badass like Diablo, I don’t want to be named for a dog.”

“Would you prefer Chihuahua?” Aramis asked with a grin, unable to help himself despite the circumstances.

“No,” d’Artagnan denied fiercely.

“How about Labrador?”

“Shut up, Diablo.”

“Labradoodle?”

“That’s enough. Diablo, take the shot.” Athos' command broke through the moment of lighthearted teasing.

Aramis frowned, never taking his eyes off Porthos or the man holding him captive.

“I told you, it’s not clean. Outlaw is-”

“Outlaw is concussed. He’s not getting himself out of this, so you need to. Take the shot.”

“Give him a moment to regain his senses and he’ll give me an opening.”

“The target is two steps from that boat. If he gets Outlaw on it, he’s dead.”

“But-“

“You see the situation, Diablo. You’re behind the gun. Make the call.”

Aramis swallowed and licked his lips, watching a dazed Porthos be pulled back towards the boat.

“Come on, Porthos…” he whispered softly, adjusting his aim.

The target pulled Porthos a step closer to the boat and the driver revved the engine.

Aramis was out of time.

“Perdóname hermano.” (Forgive me brother.)

He squeezed the trigger. He watched blood explode from Porthos’ shoulder and then both he and the man holding him crumpled to the ground. He watched, still covering Porthos, until Athos ran out onto the docks and the boat sped away.

Only then did Aramis lifted his head, swallowing down a wave of nausea. He rolled away from his rifle and laid on his back. He stared up at the night sky, listening to Athos rattle off more orders.

It took several moments before he realized Athos was trying to raise him on the radio.

“Is he alive?” he asked around the lump in his throat.

“It was a clean hit. He’ll be fine,” Athos assured.

“The target?”

“Dead. You did we-”

“Don’t say it,” he snapped, cutting off the praise. Then after taking a slow breath, he went on. “I’ll find my own way back.” He plucked his earpiece out and in a fit of anger sat up and threw it across the rooftop.

Athos watched the paramedics load Porthos into the ambulance and then climbed in after him.

“Where is he?” Porthos asked for the sixth time, his concussion as serious as Athos had feared.

“He’ll meet us at the hospital,” Athos assured once again.

He hoped it wasn’t a lie. Aramis’ comm had gone dead and his phone was going straight to voicemail. Aramis did this sometimes – went dark on them. Usually after a hard mission. It was only the knowledge that Aramis would never put anything, not even his own feelings, above Porthos that assured Athos that their sniper would not go to that extreme now.

“I’ll follow with the SUV,” d’Artagnan stated from outside the ambulance. Only after Athos nodded did he slam the door shut, pounding a hand against it to let the driver know they were ready to move.

Athos watched Porthos’ gaze wander listlessly around the interior of the ambulance before finally settling back on him.

“Where's ‘Mis?” he asked in bewildered confusion.

I don’t know.

“He’ll meet us there, Porthos.”

Porthos woke feeling remarkably more clear-headed than he had when he’d gone to sleep. The confusing effects of his concussion were fading away and he could finally piece together a bit of what had happened.

He took a moment before opening his eyes, assessing the amount of pain he was in. Getting shot was never a good time, but as such wounds went, this one wasn’t terrible. Something to credit the shooter with, he was sure.

Satisfied that his pain meds were doing their job sufficiently, Porthos opened his eyes, glancing around his hospital room. His brow drew together in confusion when the only face to greet him was that of their team’s youngest.

“Where’s Aramis?” Porthos asked without preamble. He couldn’t remember a time he’d woken up after being injured that his closest brother wasn’t there waiting for him.

D’Artagnan looked a bit like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment before he schooled his expression.

“The doctor says your scans look good. And also that you shouldn’t have any mobility issues once your shoulder heals.”

Porthos stared at him, concern mounting when d’Artagnan nervously shifted his gaze away.

“Where is he?” he asked again, more firmly.

D’Artagnan sighed and looked back at him in resignation.

“We don’t know. His phone is off and he hasn’t check in.”

Porthos felt a rush of cold fear from his head down to his toes. He hated it when Aramis did this. Hated it. He’d done it all the time after Savoy. He would disappear for hours at a time, sometimes days, without a word to anyone. In those days Porthos had worried that they would find him dead, buried under the weight of 20 lost souls and having finally decided to join them.

He didn’t do it as often now, but sometimes when he took a mission too hard, he would go dark again.

“Where’s Athos?” Porthos demanded, gripping the bedrail and hauling himself up to sitting.

D’Artagnan’s eyes went wide and he jumped up from his seat, hands hovering in midair as if he wished to push Porthos back down.

“He’s out looking for Aramis.”

“He won’t find him,” Porthos grumbled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “He never knows where to look.”

“Yes, that’s usually your expertise,” a voice spoke from the doorway.

Porthos twisted, glaring across the room at Athos. Their team leader looked worn and worried, but otherwise composed.

“Did you find him?” Porthos wondered hopefully, despite the claims he’d made moments before.

“Would I be here alone if I had?” Athos countered, coming farther into the room and offering d’Artagnan a steaming cup of coffee. “I’ve called the usual places. I had Constance check the apartment and Treville went to the Garrison. No one has seen him.”

Porthos shook his head, scoffing in exasperated annoyance.

“What?” Athos challenged. “Is there somewhere else I should have looked?”

“Yeah,” Porthos snapped. “HERE.”

Athos frowned, looking uncharacteristically confused.

“He shot me, Athos. He was forced to shoot me. Do you really think he’d be anywhere but here?”

Porthos watched the light in Athos’ eyes spark as he realized the truth of Porthos’ words. He met Porthos’ gaze again.

“He’s staying out of sight, but close enough to keep up with your condition,” Athos theorized.

“Somewhere high,” Porthos added. “With good sightlines.”

“The roof,” d’Artagnan suggested.

They both looked at him sharply, having forgotten he was there, then looked back at each other. Porthos made like he was going to try to stand, but Athos held up a hand.

“I’ll go. He’d be furious if you came tramping up there in your condition.”

Porthos hesitated and Athos sighed.

“He’s my brother too, Porthos,” he reminded quietly. “I’ve got him.”

Athos was not as confident as he portrayed himself to Porthos. And as he pushed his way through the access door that lead out onto the roof, he wondered what he would say if he actually did find Aramis here.

At first, it seemed that Porthos’ uncanny ability to read his best friend’s mind had finally failed. The roof appeared deserted. But then Athos heard a dull, repetitive thudding from the other side of the enclosed stairwell. He ventured around it and was totally unsurprised to see Aramis sitting on the edge of the half-wall, feet tapping rhythmically against the brick as he looked out over the city.

Athos wasn’t worried about startling him. Aramis couldn’t be startled unless he was having one of his, now rare, PTSD episodes.

“He woke up and you weren’t there,” Athos stated bluntly. He grimaced, having come across far more accusatory than he’d intended.

Aramis’ feet stopped their swinging and the sniper went absolutely, eerily still.

“I only mean to say that he wondered where you were and was worried.”

He watched Aramis’ head tilted slightly, but he still didn’t turn to face him.

“Knowing Porthos, he knew exactly where I was.”

Athos rolled his eyes, unwilling to admit that it had taken Porthos thirty seconds to figure out what Athos had been unable to unravel over several hours.

“And Porthos is always worried about me. It’s his default setting.” Aramis added lightly.

“You should be down there with him,” Athos pointed out. “What if his condition had worsened?”

Aramis held up an unfamiliar phone.

“I’m getting text updates from the beautiful, wholly unattached Nurse Jacklyn.”

Athos frowned.

“That’s not your phone.”

“It’s one of my burners.”

Athos sighed deeply.

“So you’re using a burner so that we couldn’t find you? You’re hiding from us now?”

“No…” Aramis hedged slowly.

“Aramis…”

“Just you.”

Athos flinched in surprise.

“Is it because I gave the order to fire?”

“But you didn’t, did you? You didn’t give the order,” Aramis countered, turning sideways and bending a leg to rest on the top of the wall he sat on. He glared across the space between them. “’You see the situation, Diablo. You’re behind the gun. Make the call.’” He quoted. “You put that on my shoulders.”

Athos shook his head sharply, taking a step forward with wide eyes.

“No, Aramis, I didn’t mean… I had only hoped that you would step back and see the situation as I did. That you would see there wasn’t another option. You didn’t have a choice.”

Aramis swung around completely, jumping off the wall and striding towards him. He grabbed two handfuls of Athos’ leather jacket and jerked him closer.

“I shot Porthos!” he hissed. “Porthos!”

“You had to,” Athos assured firmly. “There was no choice, Aramis.”

“There is always a choice,” Aramis denied with sharp shake of his head.

“Not this time,” Athos argued. “If you hadn’t made that shot, Porthos would be dead.”

Aramis shook his head and pushed Athos away. He turned his back on him again and looked out over the skyline.

“You didn’t have a choice, Aramis,” Athos repeated firmly. “Porthos knows that too. In fact, I imagine he’s grateful to you.”

“For shooting him?” Aramis scoffed derisively.

“For saving his life,” Athos corrected calmly.

Aramis sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face and then tangling it up into his hair.

“Come and see him,” Athos requested. “If I come back without you, Porthos will just come looking for you himself and he’s in no shape to do that right now.”

Aramis huffed and though Athos couldn’t see his face, he could imagine the sniper rolling his eyes in fond exasperation. They both knew how true Athos’ words were.

Finally, he gave a reluctant nod.

Porthos sat up straighter when Athos came striding into the room. He leaned to look past him and let out a relieved breath when Aramis came reluctantly trailing behind. His brother’s already unruly hair was wind-tousled and he had his hands tucked into the jean jacket he always wore layered over a gray hooded sweatshirt. He was watching Porthos warily, as if worried about how he would be received.

Porthos gave him a warm smile of greeting.

“Nice of you to turn up,” he teased carefully.

Aramis watched him from the doorway for another moment before a slight grin cracked his stern expression and he drifted into the room. Athos and d’Artagnan quietly slid out to give them a moment alone.

“You know me, I hate all the waiting. I’ve no patience for it.”

“Ah, but you’ve missed out on meeting my night-shift nurse. She’s just your type.”

“Blonde and witty?”

“Breathing,” Porthos quipped with a smirk.

Aramis huffed a chuckle and rolled his eyes, shifting a few steps closer to the bed. His dark gaze was looking Porthos over, clinically assessing the bandages on his shoulder, expertly translating what the monitors were telling him, and doing everything but meeting Porthos’ eyes.

“I’d be dead if not for you,” Porthos stated bluntly.

That did it. Aramis’ eyes snapped to his.

“Thank you for what you did,” he went on.

“For shooting you?” Aramis challenged with an arched brow. Porthos could see the guilt in his eyes, the self-loathing, the doubt that he’d made the right call.

“For saving me,” Porthos countered, “even though it cost you.”

“I’m not the one in the hospital bed,” Aramis pointed out.

“I’m not talking about physical cost,” Porthos replied. “I know what it costs you to squeeze that trigger. I know what it takes from you every time you have to do it. And I know that making that choice last night wasn’t easy.”

Aramis’ eyes moistened and he looked down to hide it.

“No, it wasn’t,” he agreed quietly.

“I forgive you for making it,” Porthos offered carefully.

Aramis eyes rose once again to meet his, looking surprised and hopeful. Whether Porthos believed Aramis needed to be forgiven or not, Aramis believed he did. So Porthos would gladly give him that peace of mind.

“You do?” he asked.

“’Mis, I forgave you before you even pulled the trigger.”

The tension drained out of Aramis’ posture and he finally finished his agonizingly slow journey to Porthos’ bedside. Porthos reached out and snagged his wrist, pulling him forward until he could properly hug him.

“You were protecting me in the only way you could,” he assured firmly, before loosening his hold and allowing Aramis to retreat. The sniper merely sat on the edge of the bed, pretense of personal boundaries gone now that the air was clear.

“I hear you offered up some new code names for the pup,” Porthos commented with a grin.

“Yes, he expressed dissatisfaction with the one he’d been assigned,” Aramis replied with an answering smirk.

Porthos nodded.

“I liked Labradoodle.”