#anyway this isn’t really an angry post at all it’s just kind of a vague opinion

[lionblaze03-2]

idk about anyone else but for me /personally/ assigning any of the wof dragon tribes a single equivalent human culture or accent feels kind of weird or off. Unless you’re like. Specifically from that culture and know what you’re interpreting

like sure the ‘nightwings are British because they’re voiced that way in the audiobooks’ is funny at first but I once saw a post break down the accents by tribe and assign sandwings a Nigerian accent. Which IMMEDIATELY makes the fact that they’re commonly rogues and thieves in the story not a fun cowboy thing but a vaguely racist thing suggesting that all Nigerian people scam and steal, which. Given the ‘Nigerian prince’ thing is already a stereotype, well…-

and it definitely isn’t JUST that, I’m not trying to call a single person out. But these kind of 1-1 correlations lead to results like this 9/10 times and it just feels strange. Just mix stuff together. Mash ideas from different places into one. Don’t make the dragons a 1-1 parallel to a specific human culture because then any story you tell that may connect to a stereotype of that culture will come off really, really bad

[wolsalwastaken]

Friendly reminder that reblogging my posts with hate for what I’m doing not only gives me free engagement but promotes me. Whatever irks you so much about me hosting a fun community event, I’m not sure, especially since I’m working within canon limitations! If you’re the type of person who feels the need to personally share my content to make fun of it or tell me to stop, thanks for the sentiment, but I’ll pass.

While I’m sorry your stellar sense of humor didn’t appreciate a funny joke, it wasn’t targeting your audience! Anyways, wanna be clear on the fact that I am not upset or angry or hurt or whatever by these replies. They just give me something to laugh at, and free engagement. Keep it up if you want, because I don’t care, but I really think you should take a moment to reflect on yourself on why you feel personally attacked at someone drawing the cat devil in short shorts. Here, accept my YouTube apology video!

Regardless of whether you despise or love my work, any engagement helps me in the algorithm and spreads my art. So, I give my thanks to all of those supporting my art, intentional or not.

…

Ok ok, jokes aside, seriously thank you guys for all the support on the FHN event! Really didn’t actually think anyone would participate, but lo and behold, here we are! I’ve genuinely really enjoyed looking at all of your amazing art (you guys are so talented btw wtf???). Wanted to acknowledge all the talented participants, and I hope to see more! Thank you all for your artwork, I’ve gotten lots of giggles, because you guys are as funny as you are talented artists.

Now, wanna clarify, my above statement on haters isn’t vague posting any 1 person, I’ve had a few people do this, but wanted to mention it because it’s honestly hilarious. If you see anyone doing it don’t harass them obviously, but don’t harass or shame others for drawing this stuff either! Kindness goes both ways.

I also wanna say, just in general, wow you guys are so nice. Like genuinely. The amount of amazingly kind people I’ve had reblog + comment on my art who genuinely enjoyed it is like… crazy. I’m not used to getting much positive feedback on my art, and like I wanna sincerely say I really appreciate it. It makes my day, like really. You guys are so accepting and nice to newcomers and it’s just really nice to see! Ending the sappiness here, I hope you continue to enjoy my art!

Leaving on that note, here’s a compilation of the wonderful people who have submitted their art thus far (in order of submission time), be sure to give them some love because they deserve it! (Imo the posts aren’t getting even half the attention they deserve- really there are some incredibly artists)

More to come soon, as this challenge is never ending!

1. @tectonicatomic

2. @eckodrawsgoobers

3. @rataartista

4. @donutfloats

5. @abyssal-enby

6. @ciaosonounapersonalol

7. @/Shadow (certified gay)

8. @a-peachie

9. @multifandommadnessblog

10. @theskeleton117

11. @calamaricollie

12. @adairtrashart

13. @woodlandwildfolk

14. @itsartlee

15. @of-fallen-gods-cotl

16. @rainy-intel

Edit: just realized all the hate is literally slut shaming Narinder omg…

[earlgreytea68]

Do u have any twin skeletons thoughts/analyses?

SO MUCH. BUCKLE UP.

I looooove this song and I think it is the most raw and brutal song about the disintegration of the Pete/Patrick relationship in the entire discography, I really do.

Patrick jumbles his use of lyrics up time-wise, he plucks them from all over their chronology, but I don't think he would write this song today, and I don't think he would write the lyrics up in this song today. Like, the lyrics are brutal, but the song they're in are worst, the way he arranges them, the way he sings them.

BUT THEN HE ENDS IT IN HOPE. THIS SONG.

I feel like there is this vague trajectory to the lyrics that Pete writes and the way that Patrick arranges and sings them. When they're both young kids, the lyrics are more straightforwardly melodramatic and self-pitying, the way kids are, and Patrick sings them that way. Which isn't to say they're not still complex, but yeah. As they move toward the hiatus, I feel like the lyrics actually get less bitter and more longing but Patrick starts arranging them and singing them more viciously, so that lyrics that could have been love songs become angry songs instead. Post-hiatus, Pete's lyrics take a distinctive pining turn that he's never entirely left, although they're not always about relationships (they never were, really, which is what I love about him) but about the passage of time and the way everything is yearning ambivalence for things you can't even define as you get older. Patrick in the beginning of the hiatus still arranged these lyrics in songs that felt defiant but by now the lyrics get put into love songs and lose some of the irony in the way Patrick sings them.

That's kind of a tangent.

Anyway, I don't actually think they dealt, lyrically or musically, with a lot of the emotions of the hiatus until AB/AP. I think they wrote SRAR almost carefully. Some of the songs in it feel almost like Patrick designed them to try to be at a remove, they feel kind of impersonal, aiming for the kind of heterosexual drama that FOB rarely hits in their songs because Pete rarely writes lyrics like that. But I think about a song like The Mighty Fall or Death Valley or Just One Yesterday or Young Volcanoes -- and there is A LOT to all of those songs, too, of course, and I love them -- but they're easy to read as just, you know, typical radio play stuff. (The notable -- REALLY notable -- SRAR exception is Miss Missing You, of course, and maybe that was as much as anyone could deal with at the time lol.)

But AB/AP, to me, is FULL of working through the hiatus baggage. There's "The Kids Aren't Alright" and there's "Fourth of July" and there's "Favorite Record" and THEN THERE'S THIS SONG. To me, this song is all about a relationship -- a partnership -- that's supposed to be perfect breaking completely to pieces right in front of you, and the way it devolves into recriminations and accusations.

The chorus, revolving around this titular room where everything went down. I read “shares our fate and deserves our pity” to imply that this room has been somehow ruined, too (sharing our fate) and that’s such a huge pity, like, this isn’t how it should have happened. There’s deep regret in this chorus: I don’t want to remember it, and what they don’t want to remember is the things the promised. The promises you make to the people you love and when it all goes to hell and you end up not keeping those promises, you don’t want to think about them.

EVERYTHING about the description of the relationship in this is some of Pete’s most vivid lyrics. This is one of those songs where every single line is absolutely crystalline. When Taylor Swift said once that she wanted “Blank Space” to be like a Fall Out Boy song where every line is a zinger, this is the song I think of, because the way this relationship is described, the way it unfurls through the song, every single line carries an entire story within it, it’s all so vivid. And the thing is, this could be read to be about sex—dull the pain, strip down to skeleton, saint swimming our sins—sure, it’s all sexy, but I don’t think any of it is actually about sex. Stripped down to our skeletons, that’s not how you have sex, that is way more revealing, way more vulnerability being shown than just taking off your clothes. It has to be read in the context of the image on their Greatest Hits compilation, those twin skeletons, dedicated to each other even in death, like, it’s just not about sex. Sure, sex can be read as sinful, but there’s a multitude of sins out there in the world for them to be swimming in. And the line that really smacks me over the head: “’til we’re twins again.” You…don’t have sex with your twin. I mean, unless we’re getting into some really weird narcissistic thing going on in this song. The twin thing is so…Patrick-coded hahaha. Because who is Patrick? The person he has twin-speak with. This whole thing is in the vein of Pete’s pining language to be honest: I MISS YOU SO MUCH. I JUST NEED A LITTLE DOSE OF YOU. I MISS HOW WE USED TO BE. I MISS WHEN WE WERE SO OURSELVES WITH EACH OTHER THAT WE WERE BASICALLY SKELETONS, THERE WAS NOTHING TO HIDE BEHIND.

But the way Patrick sings these words, the melody he gives them: It doesn’t sound pining. It sounds biting and cruel. If he sang this song in one of his piano arrangements, I bet these words would kill you with how much longing is in them. But that’s not how he sings them.

And then we get to that jet black crow, droning on and on and on, up above their heads, droning on and on and on. The way that droning line repeats, the way Patrick sings the on and on and on so that it sounds like a drone, it’s cleverly done, and the jet black crow always feels like this bad omen to me, this thing hanging over them, that they can’t escape. I MISS YOU SO MUCH, PLEASE STAY HERE WITH ME, but there’s that droning of foreboding hanging over their heads. You’ve got to keep making trouble until you find what you love, he’s not done yet, he wants to keep going, he needs a partner in crime AND YOU SHRUG. I never can decide which of them is speaking there, who looked to the other for their partner and didn’t find him there, and maybe it was both of them, because they were mutual destruction, maybe that’s the point.

Then we get to the second verse, one era dying and the next being born, showing up just to fade away, calling an end to the whole thing – and hating it the whole time (“I wanna throw my hands in the air and scream”). “I can just die laughing on your spiral of shame”: the way Patrick sings that. That is another line that I’m not sure who it’s meant to be referencing, and it could just be both of them. Honestly, the cruel things you do to the people you love when there’s a jet black crow droning on and on over your heads. But you get through the wreck and you pull yourself together enough to survive, even though you’re barely holding yourself together with a string.

But. BUT. THIS BRUTAL, BRUTAL SONG that Patrick takes Pete’s lyrics and puts together here. The way he has the pining of the first verse devolve into the vicious backlash of the second verse in the wake of the indifferent and painful shrug is so good and then the narrative retreats into: Hold on. Hold on, hold on, hold on. At the end of the song he repeats “hold on” EIGHTEEN TIMES. That’s how much he wants Pete to “hold on.” This song about the complete disintegration of this relationship ends with Patrick begging, over and over again: Hold on. Hold on. It’ll be okay. Hold on. That jet black crow drones on and on and on twelve times. Patrick asks us to hold on many more times. And he never sends droning as he does it. He packs multiple notes into the ons. The jet black crow is gone by the end of the song. I made promises. Just hold on.

[ridiasfangirlings]

I know there are only 7 Kings but what if!!

What if because Saruhiko has both blue and red auras, they fuse together and make purple and he becomes a new King! The 8th King the purple king! How would he react to that?

Imagine this just….happens, he would literally be so angry about it XD Like imagine this happens some time around the post-MK pre-ROK era, because Kokujouji is no longer around to keep the Slate in check its power starts to go a little wild and that’s what leads to the creation of a new King. Munakata has been doing his best to suppress the Slate but there’s only so much within his power and he can’t spend all his time in the chamber of the Slate anyway. At some point Fushimi ends up cornered by like some jungle users, just ending up in a precarious position — oh, or maybe he ran into Yata who was in a precarious position and Fushimi jumps in to assist despite himself. He claims this isn’t for Misaki, Fushimi has been hunting down the Greens all on his own and these guys look like they may have some information. Yata’s been injured and can’t really fight back so Fushimi is handling this all on his own even though he’s outnumbered and he starts using both powers, Red and Blue. He vaguely notices that his powers seem to be acting oddly but doesn’t really register it, not until he’s cornered and out of knives and suddenly he feels this power surging through him.

I feel like Fushimi’s initial reaction would be ‘oh fuck this,’ he definitely never wanted to be a King himself. He would probably assume at first that he’s become the Colorless King, which makes it all the more surprising that his powers and Sword of Damocles have a distinct purple tint. Munakata would probably be particularly intrigued by this, he takes Fushimi with him to the chamber of the Slate and realizes that they now have an eighth King. I imagine Munakata being like as expected, you truly are talented Fushimi-kun and Fushimi rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue, he didn’t want to be this kind of talented. Maybe Fushimi being a new King even causes issues beyond just his existence, like because he awakened as a fusion of Red and Blue both Anna and Munakata have been weakened as a result — or possibly even just Munakata, because Fushimi’s Red belonged to Mikoto, and it’s a problem because Munakata was their strongest shield against the Green King’s movements. This does however stabilize Munakata’s Weismann levels some, so it’s like a trade off that possibly Fushimi’s helped to stave off Munakata’s impending Damocles Down but in exchange Munakata is weaker and Fushimi’s own levels are likely unstable right from the beginning due to his mental state.  

This leads to questions about what happens going forward, when Shiro finally shows up in ROK I imagine he would want to study Fushimi right away. Hisui meanwhile is obviously aware of the new King and is adjusting his plans accordingly, while Fushimi is a new King and still coming into his powers it’s surely a problem, that the other side now has four Kings to Hisui and Iwafune’s two. Hisui remembers Fushimi though and thinks it could be beneficial to have another King on his side, so now he’s trying to sneakily get Fushimi onto his side. Fushimi is also still dealing with understanding and controlling his powers, imagine Anna and Munakata both trying to help him. Munakata idly wonders if Fushimi will find his own clansmen and Fushimi clicks his tongue, not wanting to admit that there’s perhaps someone he would like as his clansman but he knows that person would never agree. He probably doesn’t think anyone would, why would anybody at all want to follow a person like him, and it’s just adding to his already high levels of stress which in turn badly affects his Weismann levels.

[buff1y]

AM/ GN reader (cable chewing)

Guys I got this request to do "anything with biting AM's cables" on ao3 and had no clue what to do. I have no clue if this is what they wanted or what anyone wants but I had fun writing it. Anyway if you have any requests plz read my rules and feel free to ask! I'll make a master post tmmr when I feel like it. Also omg I suck at tagging posts. CW for blood.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You were soaked from head to toe. AM currently had you separated from the others, hiking through a constant downpour of rain. You had been walking alone for days with no clue of what lay ahead. What you did know was that AM had recently found a new way to torture you. During your trek through the rain, AM would play snippets of your favorite songs faintly in the distance. They weren't the real songs, lyrics would be wrong, instrumentals missing, but the faint memory of what you enjoyed so much pulled you forward. You tried your best to follow these sounds, but in your current state, doing as little as standing was hard enough.

Eventually your hard work seemed to pay off. You could barely make it out, but it was the vague shape of a boom box. You began to pick up the pace, as you grew closer you were able to make out music. It grew louder and louder until you were faced with the machine itself. The simplicity of the device compared to AM made you smile. You knelt down to observe the object, gently popping open the cassette deck. You pull out the cassette to try and see what it was, but any label had been scratched off. You put the cassette back and try to play it again, but the only sound of static was playing back. You frantically try to make any other sound play, desperate for any kind of music to remind you of anything else.

In your desperation, you begin to beat on the box, but the only sound it begins to make is the all too familiar voice. “Awe, is someone's toy broken? That’s too bad really, you know I was looking into it and you had great music taste. Well, emphasis on had, pretty hard to listen to anything when I’m all you have.” Tears begin to form in your eyes, you set the boombox aside and begin searching for something to fix the issue. Eventually you noticed the cord attached to the boombox. You begin tugging at it, but you soon realize this isn’t a normal cord, it seemed to have no end, this was one of AM’s cables. It was nothing special, you had been surrounded by them for what felt like forever. But this felt different. It being directly connected to something projecting his voice, something you felt wronged you on a different level. Something must of possessed you in that moment, but you began to tug as hard as possible, wrapping segments of the cord around your hand for more traction.

“Oh? Is someone getting all fired up? Are ya angry at me babe? Keep on tuggin’, see how far that’ll get you.” That set you off more. You kept tugging until you fell back on your butt. Staring back down at the cord, you decided to do the last thing your tired body could. You pick the cord back up and place the cord in between your teeth.

“Wow, are you that hungry? I knew you were weird but this is a new one.” Before he could make another snarky remake, you begin to gnaw on the cord as hard as possible, quickly finding out that was exactly what he wanted. You felt a sharp jolt travel through your teeth and into your skull, making your vision shake. Your muscles began to tense up, causing you to drop the cord into your lap.

“Are you all full now? C’mon we just got started.” The cord begins to slither around your waist, quickly approaching your mouth. “Open wide for me now!” He forces your mouth open, unhinging your jaw almost completely. The cord begins to snake its way in your mouth, touching every crevice inside. The cord begins to slide down your throat, making you gag. You claw at the cord, attempting to remove it from your mouth, but more of the cord slithers its way inside, rendering your attempts futile. The cord continues its journey in your mouth, causing tears to fall down your cheeks and drool to drip from your chin. “Disgusting, truly a heinous display.”

After a short while longer, AM must have grown bored with this game. He stopped pulling your jaw open, giving you some slack to move around. Before you could get used to your new found freedom, he took control of your jaw again. With all of your strength and then some, he smashed your teeth into the cord, biting down as hard as possible. Harsh shocks were sent through your body once again, while your gums began to bleed from the force of the bite. He let the currents run through your body, just long enough for you to maybe think he was finished. He finally began again, forcing your mouth to chomp on the wires rapidly, too fast for you to count, too painful for you to ignore. Blood began to replace the drool on your chin. 

Finally, once you started to choke on your blood, he stopped. The cord laid limp in your mouth and all around you. You lean over, coughing the cord and blood out of your mouth. The cord fell out in jagged pieces in front of you. AM’s voice returns from where you originally heard it. “That was real fun sweetheart, we should really go out to eat some other time. But maybe next time, my components won’t be the main course.” And with that, he was gone, or at least it felt like he was. There was nothing for you here any more, you stand up and continue your trek forward. The rain only growing harsher as you continued.

[sentienttoastah]

Someone mentioned in the reblogs of the last post about their preferred interpretation of Moby Dick and after seeing that I had a little personal thought discussion of my own in my brain and like ahahsjsjs it made me so happy

I just love looking at this book in a more serious way than I usually do so thank you to whoever that was :)

And speaking of, I think from now on I’ll give actual (only occasional!) literary commentary on Moby Dick for these Daily Dick posts because I cannot discuss this book with anyone else except the internet so yes. But for the sake of those who only want to see funky whale drawings I will keep them under the post’s cuts!!

Plus if I didn’t the post would be ungodly long.

Today, I tried to draw a bit of the crew but then I remembered I suck at drawing humans so even more extremely and unnecessarily green shaded Moby instead. Didn’t have much time so I just gave that fella the Outlast camcorder filter treatment. Dw, the cameraman is fine. Don’t like how this turned out though :(

I want to draw whale skeletons tomorrow :D

Anyways, delusional whale ranting time. Be warned this is way longer than my last one and will contain spoilers for those who haven’t finished the book!

So the reblog tag I saw went along the lines of interpreting Moby Dick as not a god but to have the reader doubt that fact throughout the book until the end because of the descriptions we get of him and honestly, yes. I absolutely agree on that for the original novel. It gives us dread while reading!!

Although I will say that if we were to add/accept some kind of mysticism to Moby Dick and see him as not only a whale and as something else, he still wouldn’t be a “god”. Yet at the same time he isn’t exactly a whale either. Or at least not a normal one (that much is clearly obvious I suppose). Like if that’s not a god then what is a god? And if that’s not a whale what is it? It’s all vague!!

One of the many messages or themes in Moby Dick is humanity’s constant struggle against the unknown and the uncertain. We all fear the unknown in one way or another whether we realise it or not. Why else do we dread our future? Or what will happen tomorrow? Or what will happen after death? Because we don’t know.

With Moby Dick we understand that he’s described as a massive white whale who is known to wreak havoc among sailors. But aside from that what else do we actually know about Moby? The only information we get about him all come from 3rd party sources (such as that other whaling crew they met at chapter 54) and then through Ishmael as our narrator. Like Ishmael himself has only encountered Moby Dick once. How do we know if the information he got from others is true?

And even if it was true it still doesn’t tell us a lot about Moby Dick. We don’t understand why he attacks ships, was he angry? Was he in pain? Was it his own form of revenge? Or was he genuinely just trying to mind his own business? We don’t understand how he became so intelligent, or whether it really was Moby Dick that they saw in the apparitions of chapter 51 or was it just a squid like we see in a later chapter? If it was Moby why was he following them?

The vagueness of Moby Dick’s position in being either whale or something else makes him haunting. So in my own interpretation I’d say to keep the final verdict completely undecided. He appears, then disappears. As only one of the many horrors of the deep. Moby Dick isn’t a horror book by any means but it is about the ocean, the ocean just so happens to be scary because we haven’t truly discovered everything it has to offer. Who knows what’s down there?

Also, not only the fear or mystery he gives to us as the readers but to the crew in the story as well. Moby Dick took victory from doing what other whales the crew have hunted never do. He was “unpredictable” as described. That wraps back to the beginning where I mentioned humanity’s struggles against the unknown and uncertain. But yet, even when we fear what we don’t know we are constantly challenging it still. We’re intrigued by it. Ishmael does so by wanting to learn more about whales and go off on more voyages despite his experience the first time around, and the pequod crew or most notably Ahab does so by challenging Moby Dick.

Speaking of Ahab, he himself can also be compared to Moby Dick’s unpredictability. He might not be vaguely god-like as Moby is, but there’s definitely something about him. Ishmael even quotes something about a mad man, a man who has let go of all rationality and morality, to be more dangerous than any beast. Why? Because he will become an unpredictable man. A man who will do anything to get what he desires even at the cost of others. Which is exactly what Ahab does. Humans are already dangerous enough when we understand them but when we don’t understand them? Even more dangerous no doubt.

That’s why his crew feared him after all. They didn’t know and nor did they want to know what would happen if they disobeyed him. Even Ahab doesn’t understand himself as he mentioned in the chapter with Starbuck. Why does he do the things he do? For revenge? For glory? For gold? He doesn’t understand except the fact he knows (or feels?) he has to. And it’s tragic.

In conclusion; aside from accepting differences, democracy, and the dangers of unhealthy obsession or copious amounts of whale anatomy, Moby Dick is also about the unknown and the uncertain. There’s a lot of other instances like Starbuck’s hesitation and Fedallah’s entire existence but I don’t want to drag out the rant for too long and obviously I’m not the first person to come up with this.

But what do you think? And thank you to anyone who actually read all my crap frfr 🙏🐟

[flydotnet]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled).

Stairs, a taser, Yuto's fist, and more stairs. What do they all have in common?

Oh look, this is my yearly Arc-V fanfic where I'm ignoring most of canon because who gives a fuck about the Arc-V canon past, like, the Synchro arc (YMMV) lol. Anyway, this is a catharsis fic where I combine all of my other vague changes to the canon so that stupid ship only me still cares about in 2023 A.D. and also where the stupid parasites are easily removable by a good dash of Raidraptor magic. This fic can also be called "the floor is actually writing the Duel" because I didn't want to burden myself with how godawful the Parasite archetype is, especially since I can't just copy-paste a Duel from canon. The one I'd have to plagiarize really... isn't that good too, we're just all biased because Yuto is badass.

The title is a bilingual pun between the English "volatine", which is a synonym of "explosive" or "unstable", and the French "volatile", which is a term used for birds. Y'know, like Shun. He's the two meanings of the word "volatile". The word was, in fact, invented to trip my foot over during translation classes and also for Shun Kurosaki from hit "lowest ratings on Nico Nico Douga" anime Yu-Gi-Oh Arc-V.

Speaking of my favourite bird-wielding edgelord, post-Xyz Shun is always kind of weird to write too. He's not the same abrasive bastard I keep remembering as, but then I'm afraid I'm writing him too soft. I kind of tend to forget he's that angry, that destructive in huge part because of his bonds to other people. I don't want a Draco in Leather Pants situation, God knows I've bitched about when it was happening with Revolver VRAINS. Just... think that in this timeline I'm never describing Serena and he stuck around for much longer, like at least through Synchro, character dev' happened, or something, idk

-----------------------------------

Volatile

Summary: Serena snaps back to reality in the middle of a Duel, only to quickly realize her spirit is fighting herself(?) and her body is fighting a rib-clutching Kurosaki. Nothing about this adds up, yet there she is, not even in control of her own body anymore.

Or: Shun came across a possessed Serena before his sister after losing her track back in the Xyz Dimension, this is the consequences of that forced encounter.

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh Arc-V Characters: Serena, Shun Ship: Peregrineshipping (pre-rel)

Wordcount: 3K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo​

AO3 version.

-----------------------------------

Serena wakes up on both her feet to the smell of gunpowder and the heat of a reactor.

 Recent wartime experiences as a well-groomed doll turned soldier turned renegade have shaped her in a way that she doesn’t question how she got there, let alone why, and only on what’s in front of her.

She’s in harm’s way, so she sidesteps to avoid a chunk of shrapnel.

She’s near fire, so she steps backwards to avoid getting burned, or worse, outright set ablaze.

She’s in the middle of a Duel, which means she’s in the middle of battle, and needs to focus. Alas, no experience has prepared her for what she sees on the blade of her trusty Disk – and decidedly feels like a stranger to her own deck.

 She doesn’t recognize most of the cards she’s playing. Most of them are bearing garish bugs clad in colours that only push her eyes far away, which she don’t quite pay a mind to. They’re mostly Monster cards, with the exception of a set Trap card and a Spell one that’s still active. It seems to affect an archetype known as “Parasite”, which she’s never played nor even heard of. Why the hell did she play that, before seemingly going to sleep? How did this even happen to begin with?

It only dawns on her then to look up, only to see a semi-familiar face that, if it had organic eyes, would have absolutely been staring daggers right into hers. Mechanic wings, reactors, the smell of ruin and gunpowder. No, there’s no mistaking it, she’s watched it ravage through opposite fields before, in person, on a screen… No doubt about it, it’s –

 “Rise Falcon,” an even more familiar voice tells in a hoarse but firm tone, “reduce those bugs to—”

“Wait!”

Arm already risen in front of him, the individual on the other side of the field stops with a frustrated frown.

“What is it? Afraid of defeat?”

Her head hurts.

“What’re you doing, Kurosaki?! We’re on the same side!”

He tilts his head backwards just a little, one of his eyes twitches. He’s almost showing teeth now.

“I asked you that before you forced my hand into this bullshit.” He sounds so hurt, in a way that she hasn’t heard in so long, and her chest starts choking her too. “Don’t take me for stupid, asshole.”

It’s a downright migraine that she’s now stuck trying to shove back.

“What do you mean? I just… Why would I do that?”

His expression immediately softens.

“You were under the control of that… thing,” he points to the Parasite Queen in front of her, “and almost pushed me off that tower. Then you challenged me to a Duel.”

This sounds like an utter fantasy; but if there’s one thing Kurosaki doesn’t do, it’s lying, even to those he doesn’t trust, so there must be a rational explanation for this.

“What para—”

Don’t resist, Serena. Be a good girl.

She clutches her head now. What’s this voice? How did they get inside her head?!

“Serena?”

You’re my slave, now. Be a good girl and fight the Xyz remnant in front of you.

“Shit, Serena, snap out of it!”

And just like this, she loses contact with her own body.

 It’s an awful feeling of dissociation, drowsiness and loss of control. Her foot don’t touch the ground anymore, leaving her floating inside her own consciousness. Her eyes don’t look where she wants them to go, more fixated on the cards than on the guy in front of her, for worse and no shade of better – because even through the haze of her controlled mind, Serena hears it, the wheeze and the rasp of his voice.

 “You little pest,” her voice groans once even her cords have given back into the parasite’s clutches. “Back to you it is, bird boy.”

Kurosaki remains silent, the deep-set frown on his face enough to speak for him. Only now does she see, through the haze of glazed eyes, how battered he truly is, an arm wrapped around his chest and a trinkle of blood going down his cheek.

“I’m not leaving you in this state, not again, so don’t go thinking you’re out of the woods.” He clenches his teeth, spits back venom, “I’m not letting any of this fly by.”

He makes it sound like he’s here to save her – which doesn’t make sense. Kurosaki wanted to save Ruri, his other friend and his homeland. She wasn’t on the list. (Although Serena would’ve given her all to save him would have their places been the opposite, because she seeks redemption, because she wants to be a heroine, because she cares for Kurosaki less like a brother and more like a—)

“Oh, charming knight in armour, here to save the damsel in distress!” It chuckles. “You sound so full of yourself, for a miserable bug! You’re not the big bird of prey you think you are! Or did you abandon me back there? Didn’t just you faint from some small debris?”

“Tch.” He settles back into a deadpan. “I detach one Overlay Unit from Rise Falcon…”

 It wasn’t small debris – it was a lot more than that. She watched him run to save a girl he knew from her trauma and whatever her own homeland was trying to pull off in the middle of a Tag Duel, and only thanks to Kaito’s help was she able to finish them off before it was too late. She was scared beyond her mind’s comprehension, back there, but unable to realize until much late how much that had been; because there was no time.

No wonder why Kurosaki was so volatile. He hadn’t processed much of anything. Even now, she doubts he has.

What’s also no wonder to her is why she got so scared back then and a part of what’s grounding her to her body despite the phantom pain. She wants to do the right thing and stop this Duel from continuing any further. She doesn’t want to continue being a puppet for whomever infected her in Academia, her first and alleged only home for so long. She can’t hurt Kurosaki. She’s supposed to reunite with him and help him.

 And yet the Duel continues on without her, card after card sent to the Graveyard, Life Point after Life Point lost. Her “other self” has resorted to continuously bringing Monsters back from the dead to slap parasites on them, despite being unable to actually get a let up on Kurosaki despite having the upper hand in terms of cards on the field. He’s using all of his tools, constantly switching gears.

“You cheat,” that voice says. “You can’t beat me all on your own, can you!”

Kurosaki doesn’t reply, doesn’t even look like he’s hearing her.

“Action Magic: Miracle.” He smirks. “You could use them too, if you weren’t a coward.”

“You’re the coward, using you Lancers’ precious cards. You’re only delaying your oh so pathetic demise, Xyz remnant.”

To her surprise, even if it feels like it shouldn’t be anymore, Kurosaki chuckles at that.

“Oh, yeah, you’re definitely not there. The Serena I know wouldn’t say crap like this.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Obviously.”

 The other her destroys Kurosaki’s field with Magic, builds its side with more parasites, all summoned in various ways her dizzied mind can’t keep up with. The Queen squirms, ever so content with the suffering on the field, and she has to watch the one person she’s gotten attached to pay the price for what’s absolutely, by now and without question, her own rash decision making. She was made prisoner and now tortures other people.

She wouldn’t have wanted to put anyone through this to begin with, let alone him. No, of course Kurosaki isn’t the only friend she’s made along the way (that’d erase Yuzu, and Tsukikage, and Yugo…), but she’d lie if she said they hadn’t gotten strangely close to each other, the Xyz renegade and the former golden child of Academia turned against them. The groomed soldier and the one who had to become one to survive. It’s awful, it makes all too much sense.

 Another turn ended and he’s back to kneeling on the ground, hanging on by a thin thread of 200 LP.

“Oh-oh, having trouble standing up now, are we?”

“Shut it.”

“Hmph, I see you’re as unpleasant to talk to as always. You build yourself up so much yet struggle to do anything of substance once confronted. How does it feel, to be so useless, in the end? To be so powerless in the face of adversity?”

Kurosaki doesn’t respond, once more, only getting back to his feet.

“Tch. I set one face-down card and end my turn.”

 Serena’s heart skips a beat when she sees what card it is, as brief as it is. The name is blurry, so is the picture, but the chuckle of self-satisfaction that escapes her is enough to be weary of what’s about to happen; and if that wasn’t enough, then knowing it’ll absolutely decimate both of their fields but at the cost of his LP first would do more than the job.

She has one turn to get control of her body back, if not less. It’s a Magic card, so it has less chance to be activated on Kurosaki’s turn, but it’s not enough reassurance in this game of minds and prediction. If she doesn’t do something before it’s too late, he’ll suffer the consequences; and that she simply cannot let happen. He’s already struggling to breathe as is.

 “I activate from my hand Rank-Up Magic, Absorbing Soul Force. I pay half my Life Points to Special Summon Rise Falcon back to my field.”

“Then I’ll just destroy it again! You can’t win!”

“Shut up, I’m not finished. I Overlay Rise Raptor as Xyz material to summon two Ranks above its four.”

“Oh, of course, you Xyz users can’t get enough of your stupid Ranks. Come at me, I’ll just bury it six feet underground if need be!”

“Prideful falcon, spread your wings dyed in the blood of heroes, advance through the path of revolution! Xyz Summon, come forth! Rank Six, Raidraptor Revolution Falcon!”

“What’s the difference between that and the previous one? None, they’re all scum! Low filth of the Earth!”

Oh, a lot, but she’d rather let Kurosaki explain – who remains unfazed, if silently furious.

“I activate Revolution Falcon’s effect. By using one Overlay Unit, it can attack all of my opponents’ Monsters, once each.”

“Its Attack is inferior to Parasite Queen’s! Are you birdbrained?!”

Is he going to pull off the same thing he did back then?

“When this monster battles one that was Specially Summoned, that monster’s Attack and Defence become zero!”

But it scoffs and laughs, oh so amused by what’s in front of it, and she won’t have it let have its way. She’s putting an end to this battle that wasn’t meant to be now, no matter what. She’ll get back in control, at long last.

“Too bad for you, I’m ready! I activate—”

If she doesn’t do anything, this is going to be the bitter end—

No, I won’t let you!

“It’s over!” Serena screams with her own voice, finally, back in her body. All she has to do now is to…

Give it back to me!!

The pain is searing and it’s hard to think clearly, but one though is strong enough to pierce through it all.

“I’m not going to let you take over!”

“Serena?!”

She rises her hear to see an obviously concerned Kurosaki.

“Do it!” She yells at him, about to throw her own cards to the ground. “Finish this off!”

The voice screeches and burns inside his mind, claws its way out of a bottomless pit, everything burns burns burns.

He nods, takes a breath, and screams, “Revolution Air Raid!”

 And like it did the first time they saw each other, exchanged what could barely qualify as words, bombs explode to destroy their common enemy. Every single parasite on her field disappears in a blaze, the sky turns white. She almost loses consciousness, doesn’t withstand the knockback of the wind; but gets up soon enough, ignoring tremors in her legs, to at least realize something has moved inside her head.

She can’t quite worry over that yet however, because as soon as Cross-Over disappears, he falls to his knees.

 As if she hadn’t spent so long in her own pain, she rushes to his side, legs lighter than a feather. She doesn’t catch him per say, but decides to support him, concern tainting her every thought. From up close and through her own eyes, it’s evident that he’s taken quite the beating, a bruise already blossoming on the side of his neck and leftover hints of half-healed injuries speckle the few parts of his skin he leaves visible.

“Are you okay?” She asks, frantic, afraid she’ll lose him again.

Kurosaki doesn’t reply, exacerbating her pulse, but she soon feels something getting pulled from her ear. To her shock and disgust alike, through another dizzy spell, she watches him splatter an enormous bug under the sole of his shoe.

“You’re back, Serena?” He asks, his voice even raspier than it was before.

“Y-yeah. I was… controlled by that thing, wasn’t I…?”

“I think so, yeah. Scared the shit outta me.”

 She too has trouble getting her breath back, but before she loses all strength, she drags the both of them to lean against the nearby wall. Exhaustion is sitting heavy on her limbs, despite an urge to keep on – and she can only guess Kurosaki, because he’s struggling to get up yet trying so hard to, is feeling the same.

It’s always been difficult to know what he thinks, because he’s so quiet, so closed-off and so off-limits to everyone but two people he hasn’t found again yet. What is even going through his mind, right now?

Wait, did he just say he was scared?

 “You didn’t seem like it, though… Scared, I mean.”

“Only when you pushed me off the edge. After that, I was just focused on getting you back.”

His voice is gravely, his head is lulling on his shoulder, and it’s all too close to her, too warm, too welcoming. They’re soldiers in the jaw of the enemy, goddammit, is she this tired—

“Why didn’t you give up on me? I almost killed you, Kurosaki.”

He gives her one long, tired stare.

“You weren’t yourself.” He looks to the side next. “I wasn’t going to lose someone else again.”

“Am I really this important to you…?”

“What do you think the answer to that is?”

Dumb question… but it’s such a hard thing to believe. God, he surely sees her as his sister, or as a placeholder for her until Ruri is safe and sound again, that’s got to be it. She isn’t naïve enough not to know that now, that the world has never revolved around her and especially not his. (If only it didn’t hurt to think about).

“It’s hard to know, with you. I was your enemy at some point. You hate Fusion.”

“You’re not responsible for my homeland’s destruction, nor for Ruri’s disappearance. That doesn’t matter anymore.” He smiles a little, sends her back to flutter. “Plus, you did save me before. I was only paying you back so I don’t owe a debt.”

“We’ve talked about that, didn’t we? I was only seeking you for my own selfish gain. I said awful things to you, parading them as truth. I wasn’t exactly doing you a favour.”

He frows so, so deeply.

“Can’t you accept that I give a shit about you, or do I need to break a rib again?”

 Her blood immediately ices over, adrenaline replacing it shortly thereafter.

“Did I break something?!”

“I don’t know,” he says with an undignified uncertainty that doesn’t sound like him and stabs her as a result. “It’s not like I was in that good of a shape before coming here.”

Right, the debris, the rushed recovery process, the turmoil of questions never answered… No rest, all stress. It’s taken its toll on all of them.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault if you’re in that state.”

“Skip the apology. I don’t want to hear it.”

“If I had been stronger, I wouldn’t have been infected by that… parasite.”

Vague memories she wants to ignore of a crazed man inserting something inside her mind, shivers that follow. It only ends when she feels pulled to him.

“I’m just glad you’re not gone.”

She nuzzles closer, for a moment uncaring of the dimensions, the Professor, the Lancers – all that matters is that they now breath together, that she doesn’t hurt him anymore, that they’re companions once more. It’s selfish. It’s insane. It’s easy.

“I’m relieved to see you again,” is all she replies. “We should… get going, though, shouldn’t we?”

“We should, yeah.”

She gets up, still dizzy and dazed, but nonetheless stable enough to give him her hand with a smile of her own. To her relief and joy alike, he gives it back to her as he takes it, gets to his own feet… and tilts forward just enough for her to catch him in her arms. If their worlds weren’t at stake, at the moment, she’d have relished in it, or let herself get overwhelmed by so much touch, so much closeness.

“I’ll support you,” she says, unsure of the extent to which she means it.

“I guess it’s fine, if it’s you.”

 She doesn’t comment on it, yet in silence can barely contain all of the thoughts that dance through her mind. Instead, like the level-headed companion she wants to be, she pushes that aside and focuses on the way his arm sits on her shoulder, of the one she has wrapped around his wrist, and not to aggravate his breathing. She can decide what to do with her feelings once everyone is safe and back home, when she won’t have to feel bad after a moment of reprieve. For now, they have a world to save.

And there’s nobody she wants to do it with more than the guy who’s just saved her.

[hello-there]

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[whumpcereal]

behavior modification

WRU has hired renowned behaviorist Dr. Ivan Peters to refine their training protocol for Romantic acquisitions. When Jack Kenyon--the brilliant young partner of one of Ivan’s med school rivals--applies to be Dr. Peters’ research assistant, he has no idea what he’s signing on for. Maybe reblog or leave a note if you feel so inclined? This is my first real whump offering, and I’m excited! 

part one: jack and ivan at dinner

content warnings for creepy whumper, implied future captivity and noncon, dehumanization, and vague references to childhood trauma and specific psychiatric disorders 

The restaurant is crowded, but not too loud. It isn’t the sort of place that ever gets out of hand. White linen table cloths, soft lighting, a gentle undercurrent of piano, polished stemware—everything exudes taste and class. Ivan knows it’s impressive; doing business here always gives him immediate caché with his potential interns. They want to be what he is. They want what he has.

Jack Kenyon is no different. At least, in theory. He is young and eager. He is looking to improve his resumé before applying to doctoral programs. He’s heard of Ivan’s work and wants to be a part of it.

But Jack Kenyon doesn’t know that he’s already been handpicked for a very special project.

Jack says all the right things, of course, and as he talks, Ivan lets his eyes move over the boy’s face, his body. Darling Jack takes pride in his appearance, that much is clear. Straight shoulders, lean jaw. Dark hair, thick, but neatly trimmed. Big blue eyes beneath a fringe of black lashes, the kind people always say are wasted on boys. Lips, sweet and pink; one corner lifts higher than the other when he speaks.

Ivan’s fly is tight just imagining what he’ll be able to do with those lips, the way those eyes will look up at him when sweet little Jack is on his knees where he belongs.

Ivan smiles at the thought and takes a careful sip of wine. “So, you’d want to focus on trauma work?”

“I do.” Jack nods eagerly. “I—it’s very important to me.”

He looks at Ivan for approval. It’s cute, Ivan thinks, how badly Jack already wants to please him. That will be useful. But Ivan will not tip his hand. Not yet.

“And why is it so important?”

It is a pointless question. Ivan already knows the answer. He’s done his research. But Ivan enjoys seeing the sudden alarm in Jack’s eyes anyway; it suits him. It is an animal’s unconditioned response.

“Oh, uh—”

“You don’t have to say, Jack. Not if you don’t want to.”

But darling Jack knows better. If he wants this position, he has to answer. And Jack wants this position.

At least, he thinks he does.

“No. It’s fine. I—well, I was in the system when I was a kid.”

“Foster care?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose you saw a lot of things.”

“I did,” Jack says softly. “I was a really angry kid. Oppositional-defiant disorder, intermittent explosive disorder—”

“Post-traumatic stress disorder?”

Jack nods, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

Ivan’s seen the boy’s records, of course. Seven foster care placements before he was twelve, then a series of halfway houses and group homes until seventeen. And a stint in juvenile detention at thirteen, for attacking his foster father. The man had gone after Jack, and not for a beating. And Jack, sweet little Jack—he’d fought back.

Ivan hopes Jack still has some fight left in him. It’ll keep things interesting.

“But I got help,” Jack is saying. “There was—one of the group homes, it was actually run by someone who gave a shit—” he winces, and it’s adorable, “I’m sorry—someone who knew what they were doing. They hooked me up—connected me with my first counselor, and it was maybe the first time in my life I didn’t feel like what had happened to me was my fault. I—I’d like to do that for other kids—other people like me.”

Ivan nods. Jack will never do any of that, of course. But that doesn’t mean he won’t have his uses. Ivan will make sure of it.

“That’s a noble goal, Jack. To be of service.”

And he will be. When Ivan is done with him, Jack’s only use will be to serve.

“Thanks. But I’m not doing it to be noble.”

“Of course not,” Ivan agrees. “We’re all in this because we want to help people. Because we want them to find what they’re meant to be.”

Jack’s blue eyes light up. “Exactly. That’s exactly it.”

“You understand that my work isn’t exclusively trauma-based, yes?”

It is a white lie. What Jack doesn’t know won’t hurt him until Ivan decides that it should.

“Oh, yeah. But behavioral analysis is key to a lot of trauma-related therapy, right?”

Ivan nods. “Of course.”

“Then I’m sure working with you would be an incredible opportunity.”

“No need to flatter me, Jack. You’re doing quite well, you know?”

Jack’s cheeks flush a beautiful shade of red, and he fumbles for his own wineglass. “Well, thanks, Dr. Peters. I—I really wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“Your resumé is very impressive. And you’re just what I’m looking for. You understand that this project is at the request of a corporate investor?”

Jack nods. “I was going to ask—”

“Oh, we can’t discuss specifics,” Ivan says. “Not until final decisions are made. Legal matters, you know. But I need someone to, ah, sell the company on my research. And you, Mr. Kenyon, are a very strong candidate.”

Darling Jack looks quite pleased with himself. Ivan wonders what the boy will look like when he realizes what’s going to happen to him, what he’ll become. Perhaps those blue eyes will fill with tears before they go blank forever.

It will be beautiful.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” says Jack.  

“It’s the truth,” Ivan demurs. “Your graduate transcripts are outstanding, and to already have some publications under your belt? That’s quite impressive. I want someone with a sharp mind.”

The sharper the mind, the more fascinating it will be to dismantle. He smiles at Jack.

“I certainly hope I can offer you that,” Jack says with a laugh.

“I’ll take all you’ve got,” Ivan promises. He leans back in his upholstered chair, swirling the dregs of his wine. “Speaking of—this position is rather an intense commitment. I’d have to be sure that the person who takes it has the time necessary to devote to our research.”

“I mean, the semester is over soon. I’d be all yours after that.”

Oh, does Ivan like the sound of that.

“Would you? You don’t have any—personal entanglements that might weigh on your time?”

Jack grimaces, and Ivan feigns concern, even though he knows what Jack is about to say.

“Actually, I—”

“Yes?”

Jack scratches self-consciously at the back of his neck, and Ivan can’t help but imagine what that long, white throat will look like when it’s collared. There is an insistent twitch low in Ivan’s belly, and he spreads his legs just a bit wider beneath the table.

Jack’s cheeks are red again. “I—about that—well, you’re going to think this is crazy—I mean, it’s a small world, right?”

“Is it?”

Ivan knows precisely how small the world is, but he waits patiently for darling Jack to explain. The boy runs a nervous hand through his hair. An unconscious defense mechanism. Gorgeous.

“I’m actually involved with—I live with—I mean, I’ve been seeing Dr. Joseph Prescott?”

Ivan laughs. “Oh, of course. Old Joe.”

It was a minor scandal among their graduating class. Joe Prescott and his handsome infant of a graduate assistant, shacking up together. Jack was at least ten years their junior. But perhaps Joe and Ivan had more in common than Ivan had ever realized. Perhaps they both liked easy prey.

Jack bites the soft pink of his bottom lip. “I, well, I know that you two went to med school together. And that you didn’t really—I mean, you weren’t—uh—”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Jack,” Ivan purrs. “No, Joe and I were not close. But then we can’t all be psychiatrist to the stars, can we?”  

“That’s an overstatement. But Joe says that you were brilliant. Are, I mean. You are brilliant.”

“I am.” Ivan drains the last of his cabernet, politely blotting his lips with his linen napkin when he sets the glass back down. He is sure that Joe Prescott has other things to say about him, things that have nothing to do with his brilliance, but he won’t bring them up just now. “And you’re brilliant too, my boy. Your—relationship with Joe has no bearing on our work together. It’s immaterial.”

Or, at least, it will be. When Ivan is done with Jack, if all goes according to plan, the boy won’t even remember that there is a Joe Prescott. And even if he does, old Joe won’t ever see his pretty little boy again. Of course, Ivan’s work with Jack is about scientific knowledge—but watching Joe Prescott suffer will be an added benefit.

“Oh,” Jack says. “Well, that’s—that’s good, right?”

“Terrific,” Ivan replies. He nods to the sommelier, who returns to the table with what remains of their bottle of wine and fills Ivan’s glass again. Ivan leans forward. “You know, I saw that your Dr. Prescott is on the list of keynote speakers at next week’s APA conference.”

Jack beams, holding his glass out to the sommelier as well. “He is, yeah! On trauma-informed practices in combination therapy. He’s practiced for me. It’s going to be great.” He smiles to himself. “Joe’s the best. If I can be half the clinician he is someday—”

“—he is, isn’t he?” Ivan interrupts. “Will you be attending the conference then, Jack?”

And there’s that pretty blush again; Ivan hopes he never loses it.

“No. I mean, someone has to stay at home with the dog, right?”

“The dog?”

Jack laughs, and Ivan is not immune to the sharp line of the boy’s jaw as his head tips back.

“Carl. Our Berner. He’s a bit of a diva—he’d never forgive us if we left him all alone.”

Ivan clicks his tongue. “But you’ll miss Joe’s presentation.”

And Jack will be all alone.

“I told you—he’s practiced for me. I don’t mind. Besides, it’s the end of the semester. Finals to proctor, papers to grade.”

“No rest for the wicked, then?” Ivan says warmly.

“There’ll be other conferences.”

There won’t be. Not for darling Jack. No conferences. No papers. No doctorate. Nothing that requires thought or choice. He’ll be a sweet little lab rat.

Perhaps Ivan should be more concerned about depriving the psychological community of what Jack Kenyon has to offer, but he is not. Jack certainly has other charms that Ivan will enjoy taking for himself.

“If I get the job—” Jack hesitates, and then he smiles nervously at Ivan, “If I get the job, who knows? Maybe we’ll present our research together the next time.”

Ivan only raises his eyebrows. WRU certainly won’t want this research made public, and if Jack knew what he was in for, he wouldn’t either.

“Dr. Peters?”

“Hmm?”

“I—I know the interview isn’t over, but—”

Ivan smiles. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Jack.”

The boy’s face lights up. “You are?”

“Of course. The interview was mostly a formality; I just wanted to put a face to the name.”

“That’s amazing! I can’t tell you how grateful I am for the opportunity.”

“I know you’ll be perfect for me,” says Ivan.

“I’ll do my best not to let you down, sir.”

If Ivan were more committed to the bit, he would tell the boy not to call him ‘sir,’ but he does not; after all, it’s one less thing that sweet little Jack will have to learn.  

“Is all the information on your resume correct, Jack? Phone number, home address, that sort of thing? It’s important that my office can get ahold of you next week while I’m at the conference.”

Jack nods. “Oh, yeah. Everything’s current.”

“Perfect.”

It is, too. With Ivan out of town, no one will be able to tie him to Jack’s inevitable disappearance. And with old Joe at the conference, no one will know that Jack’s gone. Not until it’s too late.

Ivan raises his glass. “Someone from my office will be in contact next week with all the necessary paperwork. Shall we toast to our new arrangement, Mr. Kenyon?”

Jack’s smile is infectious. “I think we shall.” He clinks his wineglass gently against Ivan’s. “Thank you so much, Dr. Peters. I can’t wait to get started.”

Oh, sweet little Jack. “Neither can I.”

next >

[phoenixyfriend]

Rey Gives No F*cks About the Grandfather Paradox

Okay so since nobody’s suggested a fic under these terms, I ended up expanding on this post on discord and things snowballed. We kept to the basics of the entire plot revolving around Rey really hating her grandad and leveraging her blood relation to not be unalived about it.

With contributions by @atagotiak​, @dracothulhu​, @thepallaspalace​, and several others. The title comes from @gelpenss​.

The basic thing I absolutely need is this: Rey gets thrown back to the middle of the clone wars, and the subsequent plot leans in really heavily on her being, genetically-via-clone-dad, the daughter of the guy running the entire galaxy.

Nobody knows what to do with her.

The timing is mid-TCW for the past (because I want Ahsoka there) and vaguely between Episodes 8 and 9 because I... never watched E9 and don’t want to worry about the timeline. The only things that matter is that Luke is dead (he can die as he did in canon) and that Rey knows she’s Palp’s granddaughter (not the way she does in canon).

We'll say Luke found out from Anakin's panicked force-ghost and just went "well, fuck, okay, I should tell her this before she ends up in a situation like mine and finds out mid-battle or something."

Luke, prior to time-travel: Okay, so, now that I'm dead I know some things I didn't before. Like who your parents were. In the interest of full disclosure because I was in a very similar situation and I don't want you learning the way I did, I'm just going to come right out and say that your father was a clone was Sheev Palpatine. Rey: ... Luke: Are you okay? Rey: I don't know who that is.

(She grew up on Jakku, the history education was a little subpar.)

Setting The Scene

Imagine Rey showing up during or immediately before the clone wars. There’s this phenomenally powerful feral teenager from a desert backwater who tells you that if you ran a paternity test, it would probably pop up the Chancellor. She may or may not bring up cloning. She accuses said Chancellor of being a Sith Lord.

Your other phenomenally powerful feral teenager from a desert backwater, who may not be a teenager anymore but only barely, is very offended by this because Palpatine’s a Very Nice Old Grandfather Figure, but also he’s a little full of side-eye because if the blood test comes back as proof, then Palpatine had a kid and didn’t even know about them, or lied to Anakin, and that’s! Bad! Family’s important!!!

Palpatine hears about this daughter he apparently? Has? And is very confused because the timing doesn’t match up with ANYTHING he was doing, so the kid isn’t natural, and he says as much. (There is an explanation! It’s not a correct explanation, but he does come up with one.)

Finn and Poe and BB-8 all get dragged along because why not have the gang there? Nobody that’s already born, because [handwave] conservation of souls or something, IDK, point is the only person dragged along that’s even remotely close to already existing is Luke’s Force Ghost, who mostly hangs around begging Rey to be less impulsive. Finn is good because he is a nice polite boy, but for actual useful information they need Poe. The unfortunate situation is that the three do not land together. They land at the same time, in completely different corners of the galaxy. This means that nobody is there to curb Rey being her most impulsive self.

Time travel Rey knows two things. Luke’s dad ends up evil. Palpatine has always been evil.

She can solve one of these problems by killing the other, yes?

Rey: Ready to Rumble

See, the initial idea was this: Rey tried to break into the senate to kill Palpatine, got arrested, and then used the "he's biologically my father" card to get out of jail free. (Force Ghost Luke follows her like “please take five seconds to think this through.”)

But.

But.

It would be very, very, very funny if The Force just dumps her in a flash of light in the senate building and she just attacks Gramps on sight. Just a shouted "YOU!" and no-hesitation attempted murder.

Palpatine has no idea what's going on.

Rey took maybe two seconds to get identity confirmation and then started swinging.

[Image Description: An individual in a green metal helmet with an eye slit, holding a pistol. In the upper left, upper right, and lower middle are the phrases “I do not know who I am...” “I don’t know why I’m here” and “All I know is that I must kill.” End description.]

Of course, she gets arrested. There are Master Jedi in the Senate. There are Clone Troopers. Palpatine isn’t the weak old man he pretends to be. Of course she’s stopped.

But she isn’t executed in time for Palpatine to stop her from ruining his entire reputation.

Immediately after Rey fails to kill her Shitty Granddad, Luke's ghost shows up and begs her to not talk about the Sith thing because it will completely undermine everything she's trying to do. Pass off the attempted murder as something else!

Rey, panicking: "that fucker left me on a desert planet for 10 years!" "You owe me 19 years of child support you son of a Hutt!"

The Jedi have to do the investigation, because the girl showed up with a laser sword, and the conversation is, uh... interesting. (“Where did you get that lightsaber?” “I got it from a mysterious old pirate lady I never met before. I don't know, I was being shown around by a smuggler and a Wookie.”)

Interviewer: Why did you try to assassinate the Chancellor? Luke: Say it wasn't assassination. Rey: It wasn't assassination. Int: You weren't trying to kill him? Luke: Assassination has to be politically motivated. Rey: This was, um... not political. Assassination is political, right? Int: You mean this was personally motivated? Rey: Yes. Int: I see. What personal motivation? Luke: Jakku! Rey: He's my grandfather. Int: ... Rey: Possibly father. Nobody was very clear on that. Int: ... Luke: Tell them to run a paternity test. Rey: Oh hey, a blood test would tell us which, right? Int: ............ Rey: I spent ten years as an orphaned scrapdealer on Jakku. He's my father. I'm kind of a little angry. Int: ........... Luke: Good job, kid. You bought yourself some time. Int: I'm going to get a medic to see about that parternity test.

Obviously, it comes back positive. Congratulations, Sheev, you’re the father.

Rey comes with a ready-made built-in excuse for hating Palpatine that nobody can question or fault her for!

Rey, pouring Truth into the Force: I didn't even know I was related to the Chancellor until a few months ago, but it's his fault I grew up the way I did, and he should take some responsibility!

The entire thing is mostly kept hush hush but someone leaks it to the press and Palpatine's ratings tank.

"Chancellor, I think we'll need to waive family visitation until she wants you a little less dead." "I would like to find out why she wants me dead, and indeed, where she came from." "...sir, for your own safety--"

Who would win? A master plan years in the making spanning decades of manipulating and work? or One (1) paternity test

"Okay, so, Rey Palpat--" "Ew, no, I don't want his name." "You--okay. Sure, we can understand that. Is there a name you would prefer to put on the paperwork?" Rey, who would have gone by Skywalker in honor of Luke but can't do that when Anakin is right there and all: "Can I think about it?"

Rey: I don't know what I want my last name to be but I know I don't want his, and most of the people I’d want a name from have famous families like you... Luke's ghost, pointing out the Literal Nobody that she cares about a lot: How about Solo? Rey: ...Solo, then.

(A few months later she runs into Poe again and he offers for Finn and Rey to both take his name because honestly they need SOMETHING but at that point she’s already decided on Smuggler Dad.)

Backtrack a bit. We’ve got a bigger cast.

They all arrive separately. Poe, for one, does better than Rey, who is aiming for a murder, but not quite as well as Finn, who is currently being adopted and hidden like a secret cat by a bunch of Alpha Clones on Kamino. He vibes with the names-or-numbers thing. He doesn’t necessarily tell them where and when he’s from, but he’s very sweet and a great liar and they adopt him wholesale anyway.

The Finn situation is just... "Buir Ti, we need you to hide this man, we've decided he's our little brother but if Nala Se finds out she'll make him leave."

Of course, this leads into Shaak Ti teaching Finn how to Jedi.

Maybe consider Finn needing to almost be tricked into learning Jedi things because he willfully forgets it could apply to him. Finn does not like to think of himself as special, which is super valid, but frustrating for Shaak Ti when it comes to, you know, getting him to acquire knowledge. Finn's training at some point is "here, levitate objects with the Force to entertain the tubies." It’s a lot easier to convince him to practice when it involves the babies.

(Everyone on Kamino looked at Finn and went “oh I love him I’m keeping him and teaching him things.”)

(He’s just very lovable.)

Poe, meanwhile, buys the trust of Anakin Skywalker via R2D2 declaring BB-8 the absolute most baby of droids. R2D2 met BB-8 three hours ago but.

"Hey Obi-Wan this is Poe I met him like five days ago but R2D2 says he checks out because his droid is a baby." "That's nice, Anakin, did you know the Chancellor has a daughter who tried to assassinate him in broad daylight yesterday? Because guess who had to stop the Chancellor from getting assassinated by his daughter in broad daylight yesterday."

A summary so far:

Finn, on Kamino: Hey, um, I don't know where this is, but it's not where I was a few minutes ago. Do you think you could get me a comm? What's your name? Poe, on [dice roll] Denon: Oh, hey, you're General Skywalker? Nice to meet you, I'm so sorry about my droid, she's a little excitable and thought your R2 unit looked like a friend of hers-- Rey, on Coruscant: DIE, GRANDFATHER

Finn: [Peacefully vibing on Kamino, unaware of the chaos and bonding with the clones] Poe: [Trying to explain how he knows someone who tried to kill the chancellor and defend Rey] Rey: [Arrested for trying to kill the chancellor]

Just... just...

Anakin: Some guy ended up lost on base yesterday with his droid, how’s your day going? Obi-Wan: I had to stop someone who claims to be the chancellors daughter from murdering the chancellor after she seemingly blinked into existence in the Senate building. Poe: 😐

(Poe: Oh, so that's where Chaos^2 went.)

Poe: In her defense, she is his... well we don't know if she's his daughter or granddaughter, but she's definitely related to him, and she definitely grew up in a shitty situation that was his fault, so...

(Poe is trying very hard to explain this and not get arrested on the military base.)

As you’ve probably guessed, what's especially funny about all of this for me is the fact that Palpatine is fully aware that this girl shouldn't exist, but can't find a single piece of evidence about where she came from. He didn't start any experiments that could result in a female child, and he didn't have sex in that period of time, so where the hell--

Rey spends so much time in jail... BUT they do eventually assign her a Jedi Master. Possibly before she actually proves her evil grandfather is in fact evil. Most votes went to either Plo Koon or Obi-Wan. Plo, because he’s dad-shaped, and Obi...

"Obi-Wan, you already raised one feral desert child with implausible amounts of power, you handle this." Rey in return is very "Sweet, you vaguely remind me of Master Luke," and nobody knows who the hell she's talking about. Obi-Wan is NOT on board with this plan, she'd really be better off with Plo or like........ Mace.

Reunion Tour

What I need out of this is the eventual Finn and Rey reunion scene that is just excited screaming while someone in the background explains to Shaak Ti that yes this is apparently Palpatine's terrifyingly force-sensitive daughter who hates him.

(Finn senses Rey’s approach and just. Gathers the everyone to wait. He’s just :D REY MY FRIEND REY GUYS MY FRIEND REY IS COMING.)

Anakin shows up with Poe--just a guy who signed on to the military, no big deal--and then Poe and Rey are EXCITED and everyone's just like "Cool, how do you know this literal terrorist child?" And Poe has to scramble and "Uhhhhhhhhhhhh she saved my droid from a scrapheap once and BB-8 is basically my child so I owe her one."

Rey knows that Anakin ends up evil so she’s maybe not actively hostile but definitely very “I’m watching you.” That said, she vibes with him on a lot of things that he maybe doesn’t actively notice.

Rey picks up a snake, snaps off the head for venom avoidance, and starts biting off chunks. Obi-Wan's reaction: [undisguised horror] Anakin and Ahsoka: Ooh, where'd you find that? (Obi-Wan: And now I’m up to three feral children.)

What Does Palpatine Even Do?

OBVIOUSLY at a certain point, Palpatine is just phoning up every ally he has to figure out who broke protocol to synthesize a daughter for him.

So of course, Palpatine blame Plagueis.

She'd have been born five or so years before Naboo, just a few years younger than Anakin. It's such an EASY theory to build a conspiracy around. It is ENTIRELY WRONG, but it’s plausible! And anyone who might have been involved to say otherwise is probably dead!

A random bio-kid shows up you can’t possibly have contributed genes to? Maybe it’s the evil bio spark that did it.

Palpatine tries to placate her with the ‘my genes were stolen for an experiment and I didn’t know’ thing. It doesn’t work because her actual main complaint is he’s evil in her future but he tries.

It'd be a struggle to even get access to her, because of the aforementioned “maybe don’t try to talk to the daughter(?) that hates you” thing, but you know who Palpatine does have access to? The Chosen One.

Rey kind of decides on her favorites early on (she gravitates to Dad Energy and Sad Old Men so Plo and Obi-Wan are on her list, and that means decent time around Anakin and Ahsoka). It's really easy to talk Anakin into helping to some degree because "he'd like to connect to a daughter he never knew" and "a child of her power on a planet like that, you'd know her struggle, my dear boy" and so on. Anakin tries to connect! He tries to play up Sheev’s kind political work and how it can’t have really been his fault! It doesn’t work. Rey does not believe a word of it. Mostly she doesn’t even seem to hear him.

Rey's just like "...oh right, you're the melted mask that Kylo Ren was always ranting about," which means absolutely NOTHING to Anakin, but he mentions it to Palps, who loses his goddamn mind trying to figure out what she's talking about, because it also means absolutely nothing to him.

Here’s the thing: Rey’s already decided that Obi-Wan is cool, because Luke said so, and Plo Koon is dad-shaped, and she also gravitates towards earnest kindness in general, like she made friends with Finn real quick, so Ahsoka? Already getting along great.

She doesn’t dislike Anakin, really, he isn’t evil yet, he’s just... meh. She’s a little suspicious and she likes him less than the others but... Anakin.

Rey, to Anakin: You are my least favorite. Anakin, to Palpatine: YOUR DAUGHTER HATES ME???

And he goes from “she’s a lil standoffish” to “she doesn’t like me” to “she hates me” as is normal for Anakin.

It’s just an escalation of this one time Palpatine wants Anakin to not have rifts and trust issues with a person, at least not until later, because he needs information.

Meanwhile, that very moment, Rey is just like "huh, nobody here is listening to me about how make a sixth-hand carburetor work, where's Luke's dad?"

Anakin is venting to Palpatine about how hard it is to talk to Rey, and she's over in the Temple just like "Hey, that guy was useful last time, I should ask him," but also she only ever thinks of him as Luke's Dad.

(At one point, Obi-Wan is having a bit of a break down, and then Anakin starts having a breakdown about that, meanwhile the clones are (badly) trying to hide Finn behind their backs, Rey is watching Ahsoka practice and being like "I want two lightsabers," and Poe is trying to keep R2 from stealing BB-8 and Force Ghost Luke is just face palming in the background.)

(Rey deserved a saber staff, maybe one that can detach and turn into a jar’kai set. Possibly a pike. Mostly I just wish she got more chances to whack things with a big stick.)

[sunnibits]

lord help me I literally tried like 3 times to expand upon my thoughts as far as this vague post I made this morning and on this the third try (AS IN TRYING TO MAKE IT CONCISE) it got. so long. so uhh enjoy I guess lmao 😭

vico ortiz you’re fucking onto something!!! I don’t have Twitter but I am sending this to them via telepathic link 😤

Basically, I think the reason that Jim would actually be so perfect to get Izzy to open up is because of the fact that Jim themself isn’t at all comfortable opening up to people!

Like, I feel like there’s a really popular idea of having a character like Lucius, Stede, or the Conceptual Golden Retriever Boyfriend™️ forcing Izzy to open up and be a big softie, and while I live for that as much as the next person - trust me, I’m quite weak for a good tender Izzy fic where he undergoes involuntary therapy - I don’t think that’s actually what’s going to be the most effective approach when it comes to cracking open this stubborn oyster of a man.

As much as I love indulging in some fluffy scenarios of Izzy breaking down and sobbing about his unrequited love into Lucius’s waiting shoulder, I don’t think someone like Lucius, Stede or the Conceptual Golden Retriever Boyfriend is actually going to be able to get through to Izzy, at least not in the state he’s in now - for the sole reason that Izzy hates people like that.

If there’s anything we know about this little shit, it’s that he rejects softness! He rejects tenderness and emotion! Now does he need it and would it break him, absolutely, but he’s not ready for that yet. So instead: enter Jim. Jim, who is ‘normal secretive’ (not normal secretive), reserved, edgy, and very much closed off to most people.

Now here’s someone that Izzy can actually respect! Sure, Izzy’s not friends with anyone, let alone a member of Bonnet’s crew - that’s absurd! - but at the very least, with some time, I truly think that Izzy would come to respect Jim. They’re skilled, they’re more than ready to kill people, and they don’t worry about that mushy gushy feelings bullshit.

But here’s the difference between Izzy and Jim: while Izzy is pretty much completely closed off from everyone at this point, Jim isn’t anymore! They have Oluwande! They’re starting, bit by bit, to open up to this person - this one person that they love and trust, who’s been so patient with them, who has shown them that it’s safe to open up with people.

So, while Jim and Izzy have both spent a long time living by the rule of ‘trust nobody, let no one in’, Jim has already begun their exploration into the world of expressing emotions and trusting people. So!!!! Jim already kind of knows how to start! And they wouldn’t try to push Izzy immediately into any dramatic acts of trust or softness, because there’s no way he’s going to allow that right off the bat. But Jim has been where Izzy is. They know it’s scary to open up, that it’s all too easy to just keep bottling up all your sticky, messy bullshit. But they also know that it’s impossible to keep going like that forever.

Maybe, after a (mostly) friendly sword fight or two, Izzy really starts to respect Jim. And Jim, to their own surprise, kind of starts to respect Izzy too. They see a little bit of something else, deep down, and it compels them. Maybe they even see a tiny bit of themself, even if Izzy is a very different (and twisted) man. They may not trust each other, but Jim has the beginnings of an urge to start poking, and Izzy’s ready to listen. He’s not going to push them away - and Jim will make sure of that, never nudging him too hard. It’s not a fucking excavation after all, it’s not like Jim is interested in being his therapist. But maybe, maybe, they can chip a teeny little bit of his bitter, angry crust away.

Jim knows not to go too deep - they don’t even know how to do that anyways. They sure as hell aren’t interested in getting all goopy and soft. But they know what Olu taught them. They start with the little things. Little questions, little prodding. Leaving out some crumbs for Izzy to take, even if he doesn’t want to. Even if the first few times they ask about his name, or his tattoos, he doesn’t give them more than a grunt. But after a while, maybe, by the time Jim’s almost forgotten they asked, they hear a muttered, “Israel. My real name is Israel.” They take it without a word. Just a nod. They sit in a silence that is almost companionable.

Listen. Izzy cannot. handle. grand, open acts of affection. Vulnerability disgusts him, terrifies him. Even if Lucius or Stede or the Conceptual Golden Retriever Boyfriend were to offer it, Izzy is not ready. Not yet, not the Izzy we know. But!!! I think he could take little pieces, just starting small. Things that he can easily brush off, or ignore with another indifferent grunt. Like half of an apple cut by Jim’s knife, silently offered and accepted. Or a hand extended to him when he falls on his ass after being - very fairly, very skillfully - beaten in a practice duel. It surprises him, but he takes it, and lets Jim pull him up.

I think eventually, Jim could have a conversation with Izzy about opening up. Something along the lines of telling him that he doesn’t need to open up to everyone - just someone. At the very least, he needs to start by letting one person in. And it doesn’t have to be Jim - hell, lord knows they don’t have time to dig into whatever crazy shit he’s got going on under all that - but he’s got to pick someone. Because it’s worth it. Because eventually, everyone gets tired of you slamming the door on them, and they’ll stop knocking.

Of course, at some point when Jim reunites with the crew of the Revenge, everyone will get to talking again about how annoying Izzy is, and how they should just throw him overboard - for real this time. But Jim mumbles a little, “Oh, he’s not so bad when you get to know him.” Everyone looks at them like they’re crazy, but it gets in their heads, gets them thinking. If Jim can get along with Izzy, then there must be something half-decent about him, right? Right?

If you asked Izzy the same question, he might not be able to answer. But… maybe he’s ready to try and be half-decent, at least. He’ll die before admitting it. But it makes him consider. Maybe, next time someone comes knocking, he’ll let them in. Just a little.

[mermaidxatxheart]

Better Together Chapter Seven

Chapter 7 already? I must really love you guys. I hope you enjoy. If you'd like to be added to my tag list, send me an ask. My work is not to be reposted under any name or anywhere else. Reblogs and comments, however, are always welcome.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Warnings: trauma, probably language, descriptions of violence, torture, blood.

Word Count: 2k

Series Master List

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

The sunlight is bright and you twist your face into Poe’s chest, trying to hide from it. You feel him chuckle under you and it’s only then that you realize he’s awake already.

“Morning.” He says softly.

“What time is it?” You mumble.

“Early, about six.”

“How can you sleep with the sun shining in your eyes like that?”

“I like getting up early.” His fingers trail lightly over your arm and he pulls you tight against his side.

You’re quiet for a long time, but it’s not because he’s lulled you back to sleep. You feel bad for waking him up so late last night. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” You say finally.

“It’s okay. I’d rather you wake me up if you need me than suffer by yourself.” He brushes your hair back behind your ear. “I don’t sleep much anyway.” He admits.

“Because of dreams?” You ask, twisting your head back to look up at him.

“Among other things, yeah.”

You squint and he smiles softly. If you had to pick which is brighter, the sun or Poe’s smile? Poe’s smile wins by a landslide.

“Here, roll over.” He urges, guiding you onto your other side. He turns behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“This isn’t any better.” You huff. His chest shakes behind you as he laughs. You lift his arm and roll back over so you’re facing him. His soft brown eyes are watching you, amusement sparkling in them as you shift.

“Now you’re facing the window again.” He points out. So, you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and take a big, satisfying breath. “G-good now?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah.” You whisper, eyes already drooping shut again.

***

“I can talk to Leia, you don’t have to do the report.” Poe says.

“I told her I would. She said I could take time but I was petty and angry at the time and said I would have it for her by today.” You tell him, pushing yourself up from the bed.

“So that means you can still take your time.” He says, catching your wrist gently. “Stay.” He whispers and you turn back to him. “Please?”

“Come with me. You can get some food. I know you need caf. I kept you from doing your usual stuff all morning.” You say, kneeling on the bed. This feels dangerous. It feels like flirting, like crossing a line. But you meant it when you said that Poe is the easiest person to be around.

“You should get food, too.” He says, pushing himself up closer to you. One little inch and you’d be almost touching. You could kiss him. You could feel his lips on yours, tell him how much you…

Your eyes close and he pulls back. You should have expected it. But that doesn’t stop you from feeling like the floor is falling out from under you. Suddenly, you don’t want him to go with you. You straighten up, feeling dizzy and unbalanced. You feel numb, you can’t feel your pulse, can’t hear the way you’re breathing too quickly.

“I just remembered. It’s been a while since I’ve showered. I should do that first.” You mutter, already turning for the door.

“Y/N,” he calls, but the door is already shutting behind you and you squeeze your eyes shut. You deserved that. Why would you think he would want to kiss you again?

Poe can only be your friend. Nothing more. He doesn’t want anything more from you. And honestly, count yourself lucky that he even wants that much.

You hurry off to your room, locking the door behind you. You just want to be alone. That’s what’s best for everyone. Painfully, you peel off your clothes, wincing as every move causes you pain.

You shower quickly, blindly, taking no more time than is absolutely necessary. It would be so easy to just let yourself cry, pretend it’s the water dripping down your face instead of salty tears, but you can’t go there. You can’t let yourself feel sorry anymore. You made this mess, ruined a perfectly good friendship, cheated on your boyfriend and now you have to deal with the consequences of that. You’re in your comfiest clothes, settled at your desk to start your report. You wish you had thought to ask how much detail Poe had put in his. He clearly exaggerated about your part in what happened.

Your hands hover over the keyboard, waiting for your brain to tell them what to type. The longer you wait, the more they start to shake. You yank them back against your chest, squeezing them painfully to get them to stop. You welcome the pain, it somehow serves as your penance for what you’ve done.

Your door tries to open and there’s a muffled curse outside, startling you. You quickly unlock it and outside is Bryce. He holds out a caf silently and your eyes widen and you realize you promised him you’d be in the med bay after his shift.

“How was it?” You ask, taking the cup and backing up to let him in.

“Boring as always. I hate post work. Nothing ever happens.” He grumbles, following you and flopping on your bed. “What happened?” He asks, balling up your pillow and stuffing it under his chest to rest on.

“Um,” you clear your throat, scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t start a fight. I went to sleep with the guy you hate would definitely start a fight. “I couldn’t sleep. Kept waking up. Then I just said screw it. Been trying to work on this stupid report of what happened.” You gesture and he nods, understanding. At least, understanding your words. You know he doesn’t understand what you’re feeling. Nothing bad has ever happened to Bryce.

“What did happen?” He asks, tilting his head to look at you.

The blood drains out of your face and your hands start to shake. Your stomach falls to your feet and your knees get weak. “I-I don’t… I don’t really wanna talk about it.” You mutter, sitting back down before you fall down. You take a sip of the caf and try not to blanch. He never makes it how you like it and every time you forget.

“Well, you’re gonna have to talk about it. People are gonna wanna know.” He says, his voice gentle like he’s trying to be kind. But it feels like a punch to the gut. Why would people need to know what happened to you? Before you can protest, there’s a knock on your door. Bryce glares at it before looking at you. “Expecting someone?” He asks pointedly.

“No. I wasn’t even expecting you.” You stand up and press the release, even more surprised to see Snap on the other side.

He looks nervous as shit, holding out a bag of food from the commissary, and a caf. He has never ever brought you food before. “P…” he cuts off and glances down the hall. “Pando in the lab wanted me to remind you that he needs your help analyzing those plants you brought back.” He says, rolling his eyes at the name.

You frown in confusion, taking the bag. “Pando?” You repeat.

He narrows his eyes and slides them to the right, back down the hallway where he looked the first time. “Yeah. Pando. That’s what he told me. He needs your help.”

The name is entirely unfamiliar. As far as you know, it’s not even a name at all. “Alright… well, if you see… Pando, then let him know I’ll be there in a while. I have something to finish.” You say and he nods. Abruptly he turns and walks down the hall to your right and you blink. Maybe Snap is losing it? Too many missions? Flying too close to the sun? Maybe his ox-mask isn’t operating at full capacity. You poke your head out to watch him, wondering if he’s okay, and a figure darts from view before you can catch a good glimpse.

“That guy.” Bryce shakes his head.

“He’s a good dude. Just under a lot of pressure.”

“Who’s Pando?” He asks, taking the bag of food from you and rolling over onto his back.

You have a feeling you know who Snap was talking about, but why would he lie? Do you keep up the lie? Something in your gut tells you that telling the truth would be a bad idea. “Just one of the guys from the science division.” You shrug.

Bryce digs into your food and you frown. “I thought I knew all the freaks you work with.” He tilts his head, biting into a yacba fruit.

“They’re not freaks.” You snatch your food back. “And you don’t know everything about me. I have work to do.” You say and he rolls his eyes.

“So? Do it. I’m not stopping you.” He sighs, stretching out and laying back.

You want to hit him with something, that rage burning through your veins again. To save your holopad, you grab it, the bag of food, and the caf from Snap and march out of your room. You’ll find somewhere to eat in peace and then go to the lab and find this Pando.

There’s an observation tower on the outskirts of the compound that isn’t used anymore. You climb to the top, leaning against the stone post overlooking the woods. Finally, peace and quiet.

While you eat, you try to get as much of the report done as you can. You decide to be vague on the method of interrogation, instead focusing on what they wanted to know.

The lack of horrific details in your report doesn’t stop you from remembering them.

Hours. He has been asking you questions for hours. For every one unanswered, he slices at your best friend, nicking his skin all over. His face, his hands, his arms, his chest, his legs. There isn’t a body part left unscathed.

For his credit, he never wavers, never gives any sign of weakness, never cries out. He just clenches his jaw, and squeezes his eyes shut.

You, on the other hand, can’t stop crying. You’ll keep your promise, but seeing your best friend in so much pain hurts more than anything you’ve ever experienced.

In the back of your mind, you wonder how he knows about being tortured. As far as you know, he’s never been captured. He’s an excellent soldier, always on guard, always alert. He knows his shit, he’s good at this.

Until he goes on a solo mission with you.

And then you kiss him. And he drops his guard. Now he’s being hurt.

The trooper grunts in dissatisfaction and sets his blade down. “Seems like you rebel scum like pain.” He says, starting to take off his gauntlets and gloves.

Your stomach tightens, nerves spiking as you watch his movements warily. Is he going to give Poe a break, and turn on you?

“Nothing’s as painful as living in the world of the First Order.” Poe replies calmly.

Before you can see it coming, the trooper throws his fist, slamming it into Poe’s solar plexus. Poe doubles over as much as he can, coughing hard and gasping for air. You press your lips together to keep from crying out as your tears spill over. The trooper rains down blow after blow all over his body. His lip splits against his teeth, blood dripping down his chin. Around his eye, his cheekbone, along his jaw; you can hear his ribs shifting, maybe cracking.

Your heart breaks for him. You want to do something to help him, but you’re useless against your restraints.

“Ready to give up your precious General?” The trooper sneers, grabbing Poe’s thick hair and pulling up on it to see his face.

“Who?”

The trooper drops his head unceremoniously and turns to you for the first time. “You can stop his pain.” He taunts. “Just give us the location of your base.”

You straighten yourself as much as you can in defiance. “What base?” You ask coldly.

He grumbles and grabs his gloves, stalking from the room. Poe lets his head sag, breathing hard. You don’t dare speak. Blood drips from his mouth slowly, pooling on the floor.

You twist your face away so you don’t have to see your handiwork, crying silently. You can only hope that for the next session, they turn their attention to you instead of Poe.

He deserves so much better.

Chapter 8

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[misnomera]

On racial stereotyping of the Haans in TMA...

Right so as someone who is ethnically Chinese I have NO FUCKING clue how I didn’t notice this more distinctly in my initial binge of tma (going too fast and not paying closer attention to character names and descriptions, probably) but the Haan family storyline is, all horror elements aside, pretty fucked up in terms of racial representation re: stereotyping. This got long as hell, but please please please take a moment to read through if you’ve got time for it. thanks.

To start off, the Haans are one of the few characters in tma with an explicitly specified race and ethnicity—Chinese—and pretty much the only explicitly Chinese characters in tma, other than the mostly unimportant librarian (Zhang Xiaoling) from Beijing. But like, Haan isn’t even a properly Chinese surname, at least not in the way that it’s spelled in canon (it should be Han, one a. A quick google search tells me that Haan as a surname has...Dutch origins??).

Of course, that could be chalked up to shoddy anglicization processes within family histories, which certainly isn’t uncommon with immigrant families, so I’m not going to dwell on names too much (although I also find it interesting that John Haan’s name is so specifically and weirdly anglicized that he changed his own surname?? Hun Yung to John Haan is a very big leap of a name change and frankly not very believable. ANYWAY, this is not that important. I don’t expect Jonny, a white Englishman, to come up with perfectly unquestionable non-Cho-Chang-like Chinese names, though it certainly would be nice. Moving on).

What really bothers me about the Haans is how they almost exclusively and explicitly play into negative Chinese immigrant stereotypes. I don’t even feel like I need to say it because it’s like...it’s literally Right There, folks. John Haan (in ep 72) owns and operates a sketchy takeout restaurant. They’re all avatars of the Flesh—and John Haan is Specifically horrific and terrifying because he cooked his wife’s human meat and fed it to his unknowing customers. Does that remind you of any stereotypes which accuse Chinese people of consuming societally unacceptable and ethically questionable things like dog/cat/bat meat (which, if it’s not already crystal fucking clear, we don’t. do that.), which in turn characterize us as horrible unfeeling monsters? John Haan’s characterization feeds (haha, badum tss) directly into this harmful stereotype that have caused very real pain for Chinese people and East Asians in general. 

And Jonny does nothing to address that from within his writing (and not out of it either). And, speaking on a more meta level, Jonny could’ve easily had these flesh avatars be individuals of any race (like, what’s Jared Hopworth’s ethnicity? Do we know? No? Well then). Conversely, he could’ve easily, easily had a Chinese person be an avatar of any other entity. So why did he have to chose specifically the Flesh?

(This is a rhetorical question. You know why. Racial stereotyping and invoking a fear of the other in an attempt to enhance horror, babey~)

On Tom Haan’s side, Jonny seems weirdly intent on having other characters repeatedly comment on his accent (or rather, lack thereof) in relation to his race. Think about how, in ep 30 (killing floor), the fact that Tom Haan had spoken a line to the statement giver in “perfect English” was an emphasized beat in that statement, and a beat that was supposed to be “chilling” and meant to signify to us that something was, quote-unquote, “not right” with Tom Haan. Implicitly, that’s saying that it was unexpected, not “normal”, and in this case even eerie, for someone who looks Chinese to have spoken in fluid, unbroken English. Mind you, the line itself was perfectly scary on its own (“you cannot stop the slaughter by closing the door”), so why did Jonny feel the need to note the accent in which it was spoken in? Why did Jonny HAVE to have that statement giver note, that he initially “wasn’t even sure how much English [Haan] spoke”? 

This happens again in episode 72 with a Chinese man (and again, his ethnicity is Explicitly Noted) who we assume is also Tom Haan. This one is rather ironically funny and kind of painfully self aware, because the statement giver expresses surprise at Haan’s “crisp RP accent” and then immediately “felt bad about making the assumption that he couldn’t speak English,” and subsequently admitted that thought was “low-key racist.” Like, from a writing perspective, this entire passage is roundabout, pointless, and says absolutely nothing helpful to enhance the horror genre experience for listeners (instead it just sounded like some sort of half-assed excuse so Jonny or other listeners could say “look! We’ve addressed the racism!” You didn’t. It just made me vaguely uncomfortable). And again, having other people comment on our accents/lack thereof while assuming we are foreign is a Very Real microaggression that east asians face on the daily. If Jonny needed some filler sentences for pacing he could’ve written about Literally anything else. So why point out, yet again, that the crazy murderous man was foreign and Chinese? 

At this point, you might say, right, but yknow, it was just that the statement givers were kind of racist! It happens! Yeah sure, ok, that’s a passable in-universe explanation for descriptions of Tom Haan (though not John Haan, mind you), but the statement givers are fake made up people, and statement’s still written by Jonny, who absolutely has all the power to write overt discrimination out of his stories. And he does! Think about just how many minor (and major!!) characters are so, so carefully written as completely aracial, and do not have their ethnicity implicated at all in whatever horrors they may or may not be committing. Think about how many lgbtq+ characters have given statements, and have been in statements, without having faced direct forms of discrimination, or portrayed as embodying blatant stereotypes in their stories (though lgbtq+ rep in tma certainly has their own issues that I won’t go into here). Jonny can clearly write characters this way, and he can do it well. So why, why, am I being constantly, repeatedly reminded in-text of the fact that the Haans are East Asian, that they’re from China, that they’re Chinese immigrants, that they’re second-generation British Chinese or whatever the fuck, and that they’re also horrifying conduits for blood, gore, and general fucked-up-ness? It’s absolutely not something that is Needed for the stories to be an effective piece of horror; the only thing it does is perpetuate incredibly harmful and hurtful stereotypes.

And listen, I love tma to bits. It’s taken over my blog. I’ve really loved my interactions with the fandom. And I am consistently blown away by Jonny’s writing and how well he’s able to weave foreshadowing and plot into an incredibly complex collection of stories. But I absolutely Cannot stop thinking about the Haans because it’s just. It’s such a blatant display of racial stereotyping in writing. And I’ve certainly seen a few voices talking about it here and there, and I don’t know if I’m just not looking in the right places, but it certainly feels like something that is just straight up not on the radar for a lot of tma fans. And I’m disappointed about that. 

Just, I don’t know. Take a look at those episodes again and do some of your own thinking about why these characters had to be specifically Chinese (answer: they didn’t.). And in general, PLEASE for the love of god turn a critical eye on character portrayals and descriptions whenever they are assigned specific races/ethnicities (Some examples that come to mind are Jude Perry, Annabelle Cane, and Diego Molina), because similar issues, to an extent, extend beyond the Haans, though I haven’t covered them here. 

You shouldn’t need a POC to do point out these problems for you when they’re so glaringly There. But for those of you who really didn’t know, hope this was informative in some way. I’m tired, man. If some of the only significant Chinese characters you write are violent cannibalistic men with a perverted relationship with meat, just don’t do it. Please don’t do it. 

EDIT: Since the making of this post Jonny has acknowledged and apologized for these portrayals on his twitter and in the Rusty Quill Operations Update, which went up September 2020. A long time coming, but better late than never. This of course doesn’t necessarily negate the harm done by Jonny’s writing, and doesn’t make me much less angry about it, but is appreciated nonetheless. For more on this topic there’s a lot of productive discussions happening in my “#tma crit” tag and in the notes of this post

[rivalsforlife]

Phoenix Wright: The Truth Reborn: Oh No We’re Doing This Again

hi.

Nearly two months ago, I wrote an essay summarizing and making very wild conclusions about the second Takarazuka Musical. I did this about two and a half years after watching the first Takarazuka musical. As such I did not have the full context for many things from the musical and was relying mostly on my memory, which blocked many things from this musical for my own safety. However, just this week, I decided to rewatch it, because I enjoy tormenting myself. I said I wouldn’t write anything on it. Here I am writing something on it.

Here’s the youtube thumbnail so that you know what you’re getting yourself into. And here, of course, is the link. This is the HD version which may be slightly more pleasant to watch. Maybe.

It was not quite as cringe in a funny way as the second musical to me, and therefore this essay may be less funny, but I feel like I’m doing a disservice to people by providing a summary of the second musical while completely neglecting the first. Quite possibly doing this is even more of a disservice. I just eagerly await the day that the third musical is translated because *that* will be the day that I finally shuffle off this mortal coil. Either way, I want to write this stuff down so that I never have to watch the musical again out of curiosity.

The following essay will contain major spoilers for both the first and second Phoenix Wright Takarazuka musicals, as I will be using many points from this musical to argue my thesis of the second musical. ... like you were going to watch them anyways. 

This one broke 8k. I’m dead inside.

Introducing The Director

Again another disclaimer that I don’t have anything against the actresses or the theatre troupe. I DO have something against Suzuki Kei, who I recently learned is the writer and director of all three of the Ace Attorney Takarazuka musicals, and is quite possibly my mortal nemesis.

This man is the one who brought this monstrosity into the world.

This man, allegedly, cleared the first four ace attorney games *seven times* before sitting down to write these musicals. He played these goddamn games seven times and did not take in a single word. The man clicked through them mindlessly while watching a badly written legal romance drama in the background and got them completely confused. I genuinely have no idea how this man could have played these games more times than even me and yet managed to get so many characters (MAYA!!!!) completely and utterly wrong. This haunts me every day, truly.

This man played Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Justice for All, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Trials and Tribulations, and Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney seven times. SEVEN TIMES EACH!! and was told to create a musical based on the series. He played these games seven times each and you know what he said?? You know what he said?? “This sucks, I’m getting rid of all of Phoenix’s backstory, butchering half the characters, and writing Phoenix/Lana fanfiction, but also rewriting all of Lana’s backstory so that she was Phoenix’s childhood friend, and you know what, I’m changing her name for good measure.”

I think this man played the games seven times each and then hated it so much and was so sick of it he tried to write something that destroyed as much of the series as possible while still being vaguely recognizable. And then somehow it became a massive hit because people like me see this and go “what the actual hell” and watch it, or people who haven’t played the games see this and go “wow what a great musical!” and then he wrote TWO MORE, destroying EVEN MORE every time in his wake, until finally, finally, he stopped after making Edgeworth straight and time traveling into the past to face off against a corrupt Gregory. I guess that was the last straw.

I have to issue a disclaimer here that for legal reasons this is a joke. I don’t actually hate this man and would not punch him in the face if I met him because that would be rude, and he is entitled to his wrong interpretation of the games. I don’t know what his thought process was. But allegedly he did play the games seven times according to the wiki. This whole essay here is satire and not slander and I don’t want to offend this guy if he somehow stumbles across my nonsense tumblr post. At the same time: Suzuki Kei blink twice if you need help.

Anyways half the reason that I’m making this essay is because I want to share my fake ao3 page for this musical. The other half will become apparent later.

Sorry if that’s illegible because of tumblr quality it’s not really important. All you really need to know is that it’s a fake ao3 screenshot for the musical. Also in the author’s note I said he played the games four times but it was actually seven I just remembered wrong because I didn’t want to believe it.

at this point you may be like “Grace shut up and get to the actual musical” and okay, fine, let’s start this nonsense. Also note that I may be referencing things from my essay on the second musical very frequently; I’m not going to force you to go read that though because the fact that you’re reading this is enough of a torment already.

The Musical Begins

Unlike the second musical, this one opens with some narration from Phoenix.

Transcript:

Phoenix: I’m reviewing a particular case at the moment. To me, this case... is one I’ll never forget.

Immediately I think this is important because it establishes that this whole musical takes place in a flashback that Phoenix is reflecting on. Why is this important? Because we know, by the time of the second musical which takes place three years later, Leona is dead.

Knowing that Leona is inherently doomed to die of her Sad Woman Disease paints this whole musical in a different light. It’s not Phoenix reflecting on how he got back together with his lover; it’s Phoenix dwelling on their past together, and the opportunities they had, before her life was so cruelly and inexplicably taken away. We don’t know if Phoenix’s reminiscing takes place before or after Leona’s death... but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was after.

Phoenix, still in the present, starts to sing. “A wave appears on the horizon like a mirage, it trembles, then vanishes. Your voice, carried upon the waves, fades upon the shore, erasing the splendor of the past.”

This line actually shows up in the second musical, sung by Lucia about her imprisoned fiance quite possibly. It’s kind of hard to tell what the meaning of these songs even are. They’re too abstract for me I think. But this line appears very frequently in the first musical when Phoenix is thinking about Leona.

Then we enter the flashback time.

Phoenix inexplicably yells at a newspaper saleswoman. This is not relevant to anything whatsoever. Then Larry barges in to the office, looking for Maya. Phoenix describes him as “A real trouble maker, but you just can’t hate the guy”, the latter part of which I think many people would disagree with. 

Well, afterwards, Maya comes in. Phoenix describes her like this while making exaggerated “can you believe this shit” gestures.

Transcript:

Phoenix: She’s as ditzy as they come. Oh, and about the outfit... Apparently she comes from a family of spirit mediums. Try not to make fun of her, okay?

Suzuki Kei personally has it out for Maya and I can never forgive him for it. Maya in these musicals is here for pure comedic relief but it’s not even comedic because I just get so angry. How can you play the trilogy seven times and think this about her?? The girl who figured out DL-6?? The girl who told Phoenix to sacrifice her life in order to find the truth?? The girl who put on a brave smile in order to try and cheer up her younger cousin even after she saw her own mother murdered right in front of her eyes?? That Maya Fey?? Ditzy as they come??????

Ugh. Moving on.

Maya and Larry run off, leaving Phoenix to watch the American Broadcast.

Important things to note here are the Godot mug, the little line up of what I think are the messed up little ace attorney figurines beneath the screen, and the fact that while this broadcast is supposedly from and to America the screen is actually not at all showing America. Like literally almost everywhere in the world except North and South America.

The broadcast says that Leona Clyde, age 24, was arrested for murdering the senator Robert Cole! Leona Clyde -- that’s Phoenix’s ex-girlfriend! He runs off to the detention center.

She is not happy to see him.

Leona: Mr. Wright... I’m not the woman you once knew.

Let’s Play A Matching Game

Sorry for the abundance of screenshots that are going to be throughout this section. Phoenix convinces Leona to let him defend her. Some of the conversation seems... familiar.

Leona: No one would defend someone who admits to killing a senator. I’m waiting for a court-appointed attorney.

Edgeworth: Every defense attorney I’ve talked to has turned me down.

Phoenix: In that case, let me defend you.

Game Phoenix: Let me defend you.

Leona: Don’t be ridiculous!

Edgeworth: Don’t be ridiculous.

Phoenix: I’ll never accept that you’re a murderer. Let me prove your innocence!

Game Phoenix: Huh? Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to prove that Miles Edgeworth is innocent.

Leona: I’ve already confessed my guilt.

Gumshoe: He confessed that he did it! In court!

Leona: It’s foolish to think you can win this case.

Edgeworth: My case is near hopeless, Wright.

Leona: (in response to phoenix offering to defend her) No you won’t! Don’t ever come here again.

Edgeworth: Look, just go away, and leave me alone!

Phoenix: You of all people should know. Once I decide to do something, I see it through to the end.

Edgeworth: Once you start on something, you always see it through, don’t you?

Leona: I never thought that you’d be representing me.

Phoenix: Ah, who could have guessed this day would come?

Edgeworth: Not me.

Phoenix: You believed in me. You saved me. And this time, I swear... I swear I’ll save you!

Game Phoenix: Edgeworth believed in me, and I believe in him. I’m the only one who knows the real Edgeworth. I’m the only one who can help him.

I could’ve done a few more, but tumblr is already threatening to murder my laptop.

So long story short, Phoenix manages to convince his lover to let him be the defense on the case. Then immediately after swearing to save Leona, he starts singing a song, which I’m not screencapping because this is enough:

“As long as there are people in this world, there’s only one path I will follow! As long as there is love in this world, there’s only one path I will believe in!”

Edgeworth sings this in the second musical after saying that he returned to California because of Phoenix. Phoenix sings it now after swearing to defend Leona. You draw your own conclusions.

And then we finally get the opening credits. Eleven minutes in.

Just Pretend This Is Narumitsu Fanfiction

Following the credits, we see a beautiful beach. Couples (exclusively heterosexual, of course,) dance and embrace in the background for some time, before revealing Phoenix and Leona, in the Even Further Past, before the LSATs or whatever the ace attorney universe’s excuse for law school exams are.

Phoenix establishes his absolute hatred of change, an important characterization moment.

Phoenix: The view here never changes, huh?

Phoenix reminisces on when they were kids. Leona’s parents were both lawyers (they’re both lawyers) and sometimes they would be like lawyers with her when she was a kid. This inspired her to also become a lawyer after their tragic death of Sickness. They never specify what the sickness is that caused two people who must be relatively young to die while Leona was in her early twenties at the latest. It may be whatever sickness claimed Leona’s life later. Sad Woman Disease. (Sad Man Disease for her father, I guess?)

Phoenix also talks about why he’s becoming a lawyer.

Phoenix: Watching you chase your dream inspired me to become a lawyer too.

So, it’s not “my childhood friend looked sad in a newspaper” because I guess that makes no sense or is too gay or something. But this is another important piece of Phoenix characterization. His entire life so far has been focused around Leona. They’ve been friends since they were kids, and then Phoenix decided to become a lawyer solely because Leona was becoming a lawyer. Not even to try and get back into contact with her after she moved away or anything; just because he’s so obsessed with her that he wants to have the same career as her, then they can run a Mom & Pop Law Firm or something, years in the future, after years of happy marriage and a few children or like whatever the hell.

Well, there’s a few steps they’ll need to get to that. At this point Phoenix still hasn’t confessed his feelings for Leona. He does so here, on this beach.

Leona tries to protest.

Leona: But I’m pushy, selfish, and only care about my goals... You’d get fed up with me.

Phoenix: That’s what I’ve always admired about you. That’s who I’ve been chasing all these years. That’s the only person... I love.

Sooo, Phoenix, your type is pushy selfish people who only care about their goals...? In the first, older lower-quality video translation it was “only care about my work”, too. Hm. Things to think about.

They sing a little duet together. Then we go back to present-day of what’s technically still a flashback. Whatever. Murder is happening.

Back To The Murder

So some plot things to establish: Leona is the legal counsel of Governor Miller, who is running for president in the AMERICAN PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION. After the flashback so that Phoenix has some time to change clothes, they show an interview of him talking about the murder.

Governor Miller: I vow to forge a peaceful country with my own two hands, and to prepare myself for whatever may lie ahead.

Reporters: Through thick and thin, he’s a friend of the people!

The Takarazuka musicals are not very good at hiding their killers.

Phoenix: Oh yeah... It’s almost time for the presidential election, isn’t it?

NEVER FORGET, WRIGHT. THIS IS AMERICA. LAND OF THE FREE! god what even was that line.

Anyways, we meet Gumshoe, who is incompetent once again. Maya runs around the crime scene, picks up the murder weapon, puts her fingerprints all over everything, moves things around, all while Phoenix is like “lol get a load of the world’s stupidest girl” or whatever. But who cares about that.

It’s time to get to the only valid part of this musical.

Edgeworth’s Gay Little Villain Solo

You may have seen this one before.

Edgeworth arrives, but not really. It’s like Phoenix heard Edgeworth was prosecuting and immediately entered a dream-like state, where Edgeworth is heralded by the sound of trumpets in Great Revival. He’s played by a different actress than in the other two musicals, since I think she retired in between the six or so months from this musical to the second. She still plays the role well, though, or as well as can be when you’re written in an ace attorney Takarazuka musical.

Shrouded in scarlet solitude... it’s Edgeworth.

Yes, those are six Edgeworths. Yes, they pick Phoenix up and carry him around and dance with him. Yes, it was probably not meant to be at all homoerotic.

He sings a song that’s called “My rule”. I only figured this out later, but it’s loosely based on a “catchphrase” of his in the Japanese version - in game 1 he says something along the lines of “All I can do is get every defendant declared guilty! So I make that my policy.” In DD in his dramatic anime introduction before the trial, he says “I intend to question the defendant with all I have. For that is a part of my creed.” “So I make that my policy” and “For that is a part of my creed”, to my understanding, are both translated from the same line, which I think is like, “sore ga watashi no ruru”, “That is my rule.” (If I’m wrong, please correct me.) In this song he sings about how he’ll reduce all criminals to ash and such, basically talks about his game 1 prosecuting strategy as “my rule”. 

It’s very fun and probably if you want to only watch one number of this musical, it can be this one. It starts about 26:10 in the video I linked.

Once the musical number is done, Phoenix and Edgeworth stare at each other, and the background fades into the courtroom, so court begins. I feel like I should note that Phoenix has not picked up any evidence or talked to any witnesses in this investigation except for Gumshoe, since Maya just moved some things around and then Phoenix had some weird fever dream about Edgeworth which presumably took up the rest of the day.

The Trial, Day 1

Edgeworth: Consider it a prelude to the poignant Greek tragedy that’s about to unfold.

Maya: The real tragedy’s your pompous attitude!

Those are the only screenshots I took of this trial day. Here’s a summary, though:

The trial starts off with Leona confessing, Phoenix says “no I think she’s innocent”, and since ace attorney doesn’t care about the defendant’s wishes he’s allowed to proceed. For some reason Leona lets him do this without complaint. 

Gumshoe is the first witness, he claims to have caught Leona red-handed at the scene of the crime, standing over the corpse. Phoenix tries to claim that since Gumshoe didn’t see Leona committing the crime, he didn’t actually catch her red-handed, to which Edgeworth responds “What do you think being caught red-handed means?” 

Once Gumshoe is dismissed, Lotta takes the stand. She has a photo of the actual moment of the crime, where Leona is holding a knife in the air in front of the victim. 

The Takarazuka musicals like to do this thing where the image is blurry and zoomed out, but then Phoenix will go “I’VE NOTICED A CONTRADICTION” and it zooms in really far as the resolution increases drastically in order to show you the contradiction that is impossible to spot for yourself, because they don’t want people figuring out the mystery in this musical based off of a video game where you have to solve the mystery yourself. Anyways Phoenix zooms in on this photo and sees that there’s blood on Leona’s hand, presumably before she stabbed the victim. How did it get there?

Edgeworth suggests the victim was stabbed multiple times. Phoenix says the autopsy report contradicts that. Edgeworth, uncharacteristically, does not update it to suit his argument. 

Phoenix concludes that this photo is not showing the moment Leona stabbed the victim, but the moment Leona removed the knife! ... Which somehow casts doubt on her having been the one to stab the victim. Because as everyone knows, anyone wanting to kill someone would never remove a knife, it’s not like they’d bleed out faster that way, or anything.

And this whole contradiction is confusing because presumably if the victim was stabbed and then the knife was removed, they’d know that happened, because then the knife would not be found stuck in the victim’s body, since the victim was only stabbed once. So this shouldn’t be news to the prosecution that someone removed the knife after stabbing. But the investigation was headed by the most incompetent version of Gumshoe ever, so. sure. I guess no one knew.

That at least manages to extend the trial another day.

This Totally Has To Be Illegal

After the trial, Phoenix goes to talk to Governor Miller, aka Mr. Totally The Real Killer. Phoenix asks him why he decided to hire Leona as his legal advisor.

Basically, it’s because her parents were both renowned lawyers. Her father was a Chief Prosecutor, and her mother was a defense attorney. ... a prosecutor and a defense attorney couple... who does that remind us of...

Phoenix points out that just because her parents were good lawyers, it doesn’t mean she’d necessarily be one. Miller says that, sure, but she is actually really talented, and her law school marks were spectacular. Phoenix says “WHY WERE YOU LOOKING AT HER LAW SCHOOL MARKS”, like it’s somehow? suspicious? for a government official hiring legal counsel to look at their law school marks?

Apparently it IS suspicious because Governor Miller freaks out and asks if this is an interrogation. Before Phoenix can press much further, he gets a phone call, and leaves Phoenix alone in a big room.

So naturally Phoenix behaves like a fully grown adult running a law firm.

If all he did was sit in the chair, lift up a desk lamp, and poke his finger on a pen, that’s one thing. But then he leans over, OPENS THE GOVERNOR’S DESK DRAWER, and finds a knife that’s just sitting there casually. It looks like a butter knife. It’s not anything major. Maybe the dude just wanted to butter his toast?

I mean I know Phoenix will dig around in stuff whenever in the games, but he has no reason to suspect Governor Miller at all, much less dig through his drawer probably full of confidential government documents to lift up a knife that he thinks is suspicious. It’s not even covered in blood or anything?

Naturally Governor Miller’s assistant comes in just then, and Phoenix puts the knife. in his breast pocket. 

bud. It may look like a butter knife, but putting knives up against your chest is not a great idea. Much less stealing a knife from a governor? 

Well, in his panic, he accidentally knocks over a bunch of books on the desk. The governor’s assistant helps him pick them up, and they find a photo. Look a little familiar?

The photo has the assistant, the victim Robert Cole, Governor Miller, and the victim’s brother who died in an incident two years ago. He’s the “Neil Marshall” of this musical, and he died in what was essentially the SL-9 incident. Same general premise, except it occurred in the courthouse, and the names are different.

AND FINALLY WE REACH THE END OF ACT 1. They do a musical number here which is a weird sort of mashup of the main opening credits song, Edgeworth’s Villain Solo, and the love duet between Phoenix and Leona. They are all such different songs that it sounds a little weird.

ACT 2, FINALLY

The act begins on a sour note with Maya playing with the knife and showing off her characterization, which is one of the most infuriating Maya characterizations you’ll sometimes see around the fandom by people who don’t like Maya.

Maya: Let me whip up my special spirit channeler hamburgers!

sigh.

But then we’re saved (?) by the arrival of EDGEWORTH, who is presumably just here to chat. He asks Phoenix if he’s defending Leona in hopes of winning her back, then says to keep out of it, since it’s a very important case and he can’t understand the gravity of it.

Then Phoenix says this.

Phoenix: Would you be saying that if you were the one on trial? The defendant is in a dark prison, reaching out for hope... Can you imagine the loneliness and sorrow of being ostracized?

CAN YOU IMAGINE IT, EDGEWORTH? CAN YOU IMAGINE IF YOU WERE ON TRIAL AND I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO WOULD DEFEND YOU AND BELIEVED IN YOUR INNOCENCE??

Edgeworth responds to this by essentially rehashing his speech in Turnabout Sisters about how he needs to find all defendants guilty because he can’t guarantee their innocence and all that. Maya gets upset and leaves so that Phoenix and Edgeworth can talk about their childhood in private.

Phoenix once again complains about how people change since nine years old.

Phoenix then says that he has something Edgeworth doesn’t: the POWER TO BELIEVE! Then Maya comes in and tries to spike Edgeworth’s coffee, so he leaves.

The Class Trial

Phoenix explains a bit about Edgeworth and his backstory to Maya. Namely, the class trial. Phoenix was accused of stealing lunch money, Edgeworth stood up for him, but instead of Larry, Leona stood up for him. I guess Suzuki Kei thought “oh the class trial, if Leona stood up for him, it would be so romantic, because she’s a woman, and he’s a man”, or something like that. 

Edgeworth wanted to become a Great Lawyer Like His Father! But then he turned cold as ice.

Phoenix: His father got too deeply involved in a case... and paid for it with his life. Edgeworth saw him murdered. He was never the same again. I bet he couldn’t forgive the criminal.

Yeah I bet he couldn’t ever forgive the person he thought killed his father all these years, Phoenix. I bet he really hates that person, Phoenix. I bet he has nightmares about that person killing his father or something, Phoenix.

Phoenix: He vanished, then returned without his mercy or compassion. He had become a monster. When he lost his father, he also lost the ability to believe in others.

So like... one of the most chilling things about this musical is that they never actually solve DL-6. This probably roughly takes place 15 years after DL-6, since they were about the same age when the class trial started, and at least Leona is 24 now. The next musical takes place three years from now, and in it, Edgeworth refers to von Karma as his mentor, implying he’s still around and doing things.

So, in addition to everything else going wrong with this musical, DL-6 still happens, but von Karma never frames Edgeworth for it fifteen years later. The statute of limitations runs out, and von Karma forever gets away with his crime. And Edgeworth has no idea.

What changes did they make to DL-6, though, you may ask? I’m desperate to know as well. In the third musical, which I’ve watched because I hate myself but am unable to fully understand because I don’t know much Japanese, there is a scene where Miles flashbacks to DL-6. It’s abstract, but he makes gun-throwing motions at Gregory, followed by a gunshot sound.

Therefore, in this musical’s internal canon, either Miles Edgeworth shot his father, or he believes he did for the rest of his life.

... moving on.

Phoenix: But he still has his humanity. It’s still there, deep down inside!

At least, if nothing else, Phoenix still believes in him. Even this Takarazuka Musical couldn’t touch that.

The Feenie Sweater

Right after this, Larry barges in, and Phoenix leaves him alone with Maya. The musical tries teasing Larry/Maya, but fortunately, Maya’s having none of it.

Maya: You’re barking up the wrong tree.

Props to this musical for not being as bad as it could have been.

After this, the two sit down on the couch, and Maya asks for more gossip on Phoenix and Leona. Larry launches into a story, which turns into a flashback that ends up being narrated by Phoenix halfway through. This one’s about Phoenix and Leona’s relationship.

This is an interesting line in here, “I’ll guide you to the future”, for it loosely referencing the sort of love ballad Phoenix sings with Lucia in the second musical which is about “I’ll take you to that radiant future”, and he later sings to the memory of Leona right around the time of his big spiral into despair.

I’m sorry if you haven’t read my other essay and just said “wait what” to what I just typed.

Leona was getting ready to move to New York to defend the weak “in the big city”. This is rather strange wording because it implies that California does not in fact have a big city. She says some things in her conversation with Phoenix that probably plant some of his later issues.

Leona: This is the first time we’ll be apart since we were kids.

Leona: We promised we’d always be together.

Leona: I’ll be waiting. Waiting for you to come to me.

Haha. Sure would be a shame... if something were to happen... and they wouldn’t be able to be together anymore...

So some dancers wearing black come in and take off their outer jackets, to symbolize the passage of time. They circle around Phoenix and Leona. In this, you can just barely see, Phoenix is wearing a pink sweater beneath his jacket.

“Oh,” I think to myself, “Is that the Feenie sweater? Are they including it here as a reference to the games?”

Then the dancers keep moving.

THAT IS NOT THE FEENIE SWEATER. That is a pink sweater with a sexily drawn woman on it.

This is the other half of the reason why I decided to go through with making this essay. 

This is so incredibly funny to me. Suzuki Kei Who Has Played The Games Seven Times has seen the hand-knit bright pink sweater with a giant red heart on it seven times. The sweater Iris, Phoenix’s girlfriend, lovingly knit for him that he wears all the time even though it is one of the tackiest, cheesiest items of clothing to ever exist. And so, when the costume designers were designing the clothes for College Phoenix Wright, they asked themselves: “Should we include the Feenie sweater?”

and “NO,” someone must have shouted, “NO, we can NOT include the Feenie sweater, it is PINK and it has a HEART on it and it’s TOO GIRLY. Phoenix Wright is a MANLY MAN. He would not EVER wear something PINK with a HEART on it.”

“BUT,” someone else said, “it’s a REFERENCE to the original games, where he DID wear a pink sweater with a heart on it! We MUST include it to pander to the fans!”

“WAIT,” a third person interjected. “I have a BRILLIANT IDEA. We can keep the pink... But to make it VERY CLEAR he is a heterosexual, masculine male... we put a sexy woman on it.”

And Person Three Got A Raise.

Thank god we’re finally halfway done this musical.

We Just Have To Go On With Our Lives Now

There’s plot or something happening. Leona breaks up with Phoenix inexplicably over the phone. Probably because of that freaking sweater. Imagine wearing that. God.

Eventually we go back to Phoenix talking to Leona, and he asks about the Jack Lyon case, which is the rip-off version of the Joe Darke case. Leona is pretty cagey about it, but Phoenix proves that she was there in the gallery that day. Leona refuses to answer, claims again that she killed the victim in her case, and leaves.

This makes Phoenix sad, so he starts singing.

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

If this sounds familiar, it’s the part where I started absolutely losing my mind in the second musical because this line had never shown up before then, I’d forgotten it was in this musical, and Phoenix was screaming it alone in a red room, so I thought he was like desperately resorting to a necromancy ritual in hopes of bringing Leona back to life.

Instead, this line actually has CONTEXT, though it does just end up enforcing my theory. This is Phoenix mourning what he used to have with Leona, wanting to bring the “old her” back, because he’s devastated that people sometimes change. There are several flashbacks of their college days where he’s wearing his Sexy Woman Sweater. He does succeed in winning her back at the end of this musical. Before she dies, of course.

Phoenix in musical 2 still believes that he can bring back what he used to have with Leona... even beyond death. That’s something affirmed by this musical. I’m very grateful to it for somehow managing to enforce my nonsensical theory.

Doctor Ema

After this, Phoenix returns to his office, and meets with someone new.

That’s right! Only now, halfway through the musical, do we actually get to meet the Ema-equivalent to Leona’s Lana-equivalent. Her name is Monica Clyde. She has little rainbow heart stickers on her briefcase, which is the closest thing this musical has to acknowledging that gay people exist.

But what does this little briefcase contain, you may ask? Scientific investigation tools? No.

A full surgical toolset. Because you never know when someone’ll get sick, or when someone will need an entire operation in front of you. I guess.

So yes, Monica Clyde is not a forensic scientist in training, but a doctor! She decided to become a doctor because of her parents, who passed away of The Sickness, and so became a doctor in order to save lives like theirs.

Once more this has much darker and deeper implications than the musical is even aware of, because Monica is so anxious about treating sick people that she carries a full surgical toolset around with her at all times, scared to lose someone like she lost her parents... and then sometime in the next three years, Leona, her big sister, is going to die.

Of what? The strange Sickness that claimed her parents? A car accident? A botched spur-of-the-moment surgery? Whatever it is, Monica was unable to save her, even when she’d been training her entire life for it.

Monica is not mentioned at all throughout the second musical. It’s as if she does not exist.

Because unlike Ema of Rise From The Ashes, Monica is not at the heart of this story. She is, primarily, a plot device here to make Leona not trust Phoenix so that he can angst about their relationship. 

What a mess this world is.

The Trial, Part 2

Rather than try to prove Leona’s innocence, Phoenix wants to link the current case to not-SL-9, the Jack Lyon case. He does this by showing this picture.

Senator Cole, the victim, is in this picture. His younger brother whose name I’ve forgotten, the victim of not-SL-9, is also in this picture. They are brothers. It is apparently novel that they are in the same picture, and somehow makes their cases linked.

As well, Governor Miller is in the picture. I guess you could say like... Governor Miller’s legal counsel is the defendant, so that’s another link? Even though the Governor would presumably know a Senator, so this isn’t an unusual group. Right now Phoenix has absolutely nothing to prove that these two cases are linked other than “hey, these two victims are brothers”, but apparently it works. So they spend a lot of time talking about not-SL-9, since Leona has confessed to the murder on day 1 and there is absolutely nothing indicating that she can’t be immediately declared guilty.

They hid the fact that Monica was a hostage in this not-SL-9, meaning that some of the case records were forged. Here’s Edgeworth’s reaction when this comes out.

Edgeworth: This is an outrage! I’m the most influential prosecutor in America! There’s nothing I don’t know!

In RFTA, when Edgeworth learns he’d been using forged evidence to give a man the death penalty, he is devastated, his entire worldview is shaken, he sees himself as a monster who could end up becoming horribly corrupt if he isn’t stopped.

Musical Edgeworth goes “I DIDN’T KNOW SOMETHING???”

It’s certainly strange characterization, but I guess Edgeworth is further behind in his character arc than in RFTA, so... ugh. Fine. 

Phoenix calls Monica out as a witness to prove she was involved in the case. This causes Leona to panic, and try to dismiss Phoenix as her attorney, like Lana in RFTA, but Edgeworth interjects to call Monica in anyways. He and Phoenix have a little moment.

Edgeworth: You said to believe in others. I suppose I’ll try believing in you. Try to keep up.

Phoenix: Edgeworth!

So Monica comes to the stand to testify. We get to see this picture of Monica being held hostage, and not-Joe-Darke’s incredible eyeliner.

Lots of it is very similar to the actual RFTA, except instead of the victim being stabbed on the knight with the giant knife, he’s instead stabbed with a regular old knife. Leona still refuses to admit to what really happened, until Edgeworth convinces her to believe in Phoenix.

Edgeworth: Your attorney is a runaway train with a one-track mind. Yet he placed all of his faith in you. Believe in him. You owe him that much.

Leona testifies, and says that when she found the victim, he was stabbed with a scalpel.

Here is where things get weird.

Scalpels Can’t Kill People

So basically earlier in this trial, they talk about how Leona knew that the knife that stabbed the victim was double-edged despite being buried in his chest. The judge questions if this means Leona killed him, but Phoenix is quick to say no, she was searched when she entered the courthouse and couldn’t have concealed a knife.

Yet, Monica was able to bring in her surgical toolkit which contains several sharp knives, scalpels, scissors, etc.

This is the first major contradiction.

Leona continues to say that when she found Monica, and the scalpel stabbed in the victim, she also ran into Governor Miller, who if you haven’t been able to tell yet is the Gant-equivalent of this musical. He offered to help her with the cover-up, etc.

The next bit goes a lot like RFTA. Phoenix accuses Governor Miller, who barges in, says Phoenix has the decisive evidence in his pocket. This is the “butter knife” that Phoenix took from his office when he dug around in confidential documents and stole it for no particular reason. It has Monica’s fingerprints on it! ... And Phoenix’s and Maya’s too probably because they were handling it without gloves, but they don’t mention that part.

Leona cries about how she shouldn’t have trusted Phoenix because he was apparently now blaming Monica, Monica looks terrified, she and Leona have some good sister moments but it’s not as good as it could be if the story was actually about Leona and Monica like how RFTA was about Lana and Ema. But Phoenix has the decisive piece of evidence that can turn this around.

It is this:

Phoenix: Scalpels are made for medical incisions, not stabbings. So how did it stab the victim?

...

...

...

... What?

So like. Yes, scalpels are made for medical incisions. Medical incisions often involve cutting through flesh, very easily. As a result, they are sharp. Extremely sharp. As in: their purpose is literally to stab people, very specifically.

Yes, they’re easier to control, so that surgeons don’t regularly stab people how they’re not supposed to be stabbed, but it’s not like, impossible to stab someone in a killing way with a scalpel? Admittedly, I have never tried to kill someone using a scalpel. And I do not have experience using a scalpel for surgeries because I am not a surgeon. But I’m pretty sure, if you take a sharp scalpel, and you stab someone in the chest with it with a reasonable amount of force... they die.

Like, is this a particular kind of scalpel that is not very sharp? Is the problem that the blade doesn’t match up with the initial wound? But even then, we don’t have the original unforged autopsy report or even a picture, so how would Phoenix know what the original wound looked like to say it didn’t match up? And even then why wouldn’t Phoenix say that instead of SCALPELS CAN’T STAB PEOPLE???

This is his decisive contradiction and it makes ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE TO ME!!!

Well Darn I Guess Scalpels Can’t Kill People

This is such a decisive piece of evidence, that scalpels can’t kill people, coming from the man who thought “caught red-handed” does not involve being caught standing over a corpse with blood on your hands, that it causes Governor Miller to confess.

Unlike Gant, who created the murder with Neil Marshall both to ensure that there was decisive evidence to convict Joe Darke, a serial killer who had not left any decisive evidence behind, and gain control over the prosecutor’s office in order to pull similar stunts to get criminals convicted using false evidence, Governor Miller does not have that as his motive. After all, he’s not a police officer. Instead, he ended up accidentally killing not-Joe-Darke, and then set up the incident in order to get Leona on his side. As her parents were both influential lawyers and very respectable, having her and her parents’ reputation on his side could help him become President of America Where This Takes Place.

So, let’s just take a moment to run over some of the things that made the original Rise From The Ashes great, in my opinion. Just for fun.

1 - The heart of the story between the Skye sisters. Lana closing off to protect Ema, Ema wanting to get through to her sister and get back to the way things used to be. Phoenix, in this story, is more of a bystander to this plotline rather than in the heart of it himself.

2 - Edgeworth’s Character Development. Basically RFTA creates an interesting transition between Turnabout Goodbyes and JFA. It causes Edgeworth to re-evaluate everything he knows about being a prosecutor. So quickly on the heels of Turnabout Goodbyes, it crushes the last bit of hope in him. It compares him to Gant, who also hates criminals, and forces him to wonder if his hatred of crime will one day lead to him being a criminal himself. He’s already convicted one person on forged evidence; how many others could there be?

3 - The Ends Justify The Means. ... wait come back, don’t leave. What I found neat about this case was also Gant’s motive. At one point he was presumably an honest person who hated crime and wanted to stop criminals. But over time in the police force, he became corrupted. He wanted to have all criminals convicted. So what do you do when you don’t have the evidence to convict them? Joe Darke was a serial killer who has killed several people and may have killed more if he’d gone free. The only way to stop and convict him was by using forged evidence. Other criminals could hide evidence to get away with their crimes, so people like Gant would make it up to catch them; but then when do you stop? What happens if there’s no evidence because someone is truly innocent? When does the line between “this person is a criminal and I want to stop them” and “I just want to convict everyone I’m dealing with” become blurred? This is also something he shares with Edgeworth and helps to advance his character.

All three of these things are either lessened or outright ignored in this musical. Leona and Monica’s story takes a backseat to Phoenix and Leona’s Love Story, with Monica only showing up halfway through, and mainly as an excuse as to why Leona is withdrawn. Edgeworth doesn’t seem to blame himself for the forged evidence he used, and doesn’t have a crisis questioning his morality over it. And Governor Miller’s motive is purely power. Unlike Gant, who would have become Chief of Police whether he solved SL-9 or not, Miller needed Leona to win the presidency. And instead of asking her to help him with his campaign like a normal person, he just blackmailed her instead.

... How do you play the games seven times and miss this much?

The Case Finally Ends

god. we’re almost there.

The case ends, Leona is declared not guilty but will still face trial for covering up murders and such. Probably less of a sentence than Lana because she was not involved in ongoing police corruption? Either way she’s dead in three years, so she’s got something a bit more concerning coming up.

She’s led away. Phoenix sings a bit about Leona before being interrupted by Edgeworth... who has something important to tell him.

Edgeworth: You awakened within me those once-cherished emotions I had discarded. I see visions of a distant, nostalgic past.

So basically this is the unnecessary feelings of the musical. Something along the lines of “seeing you again and fighting for my former ideals is making me question many things about myself.”

How does Phoenix respond?

Phoenix: Edgeworth... Try talking normally for a chance.

Sure, we were all thinking it, but that’s a little cold, Phoenix.

Edgeworth tries a smooth recovery.

Edgeworth: I don’t do... idle chit-chat.

This doesn’t accomplish much. So he leaves to allow Leona to visit with Phoenix alone. He’s got to go change for something more important coming up.

Leona and Phoenix decide that they’re going to get back together once Leona is done her sentence! They make a promise that is very funny if you know she’ll be dead in three years.

Phoenix: I’ll be waiting. For you.

There are a lot of hugs here, I’m not screencapping them all. There are also several moments where their faces get very close together and like, their nose brushes the other’s cheek or something, but they never actually kiss. Is it because the actresses weren’t comfortable with it (valid), or they thought kissing would be too much for the musical (sure, whatever), or since both characters are played by women the show staff did not want two women kissing on stage (probably the real answer)? I don’t like watching kisses, but I kept bracing myself for one and then it never happened, so.

Phoenix ends the main part of the musical with one last musical number starring my personal favourite piece:

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

I like to think that at this point, this is present-day Phoenix, after finishing his reminiscing, still desperately wishing he could bring Leona back from death.

But alas, he cannot. And so, after one last daydream of them dancing together on the beaches of California, singing about their love, the musical ends.

Dance Time!

This starts at exactly the two hour mark, if you’re interested in watching what is, once again, one of the only fun parts of this musical.

Seriously, Edgeworth’s actress kills it here, when I first saw this I went “oh, this is why I saw so many people being gay for her on twitter.”

Edgeworth’s song is an encore of “My Rule”, so it’s lots of fun. Afterwards Phoenix gets another fun piece.

Then we get to the love ballad part, which I can probably overanalyze, I feel like I haven’t done enough ridiculous over-analyzing in this essay in comparison to the other.

Uhhh so the fog represents how Phoenix feels lost in this world without Leona. You can see it in the second screenshot separating the two of them, representing the barrier of death between the two of them. Idk it’s midnight I’m getting worn out from having to think about this musical for so long.

But his mourning over Leona’s death becomes even more apparent in the credits, where Phoenix sings that one line again:

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

I’m not fixing that screenshot, I think it’s oddly fitting, in a way. That’s me right now.

Then at the very end, he sings this song.

Phoenix: I’ll spend... this eternal life... soaring through... the heavens!

Technically, this refers to his name Phoenix, but let’s dig a little deeper. He spends the rest of his life soaring through the heavens... the heavens that Leona went to after her untimely death, perhaps?

Overall, the musical becomes much more interesting when you just see it as a prequel to the second musical. This musical establishes many core concepts of Phoenix’s character: his refusal to believe in the concept of things changing, for one, and also his extreme dependency on Leona who he was never separated from since they were kids and where he based his entire life around her dreams and ideals. All he can think about is her. And in the end, he promises to wait for her in California.

Yet, to paraphrase Miles Edgeworth, all that is waiting for him is her death. Their dream of opening up a Mom & Pop Law Firm will never come true.

Thanks again for bearing with me even though this wasn’t as funny!

[cdroloisms]

the amount of angst in the post-prison writing you did just gave me massive post-prison dream brainrot and i'm just. sitting here thinking about how sam dealt with the curious looks and glances and having to face what's he's done as a warden. and everyone else's reaction to everything because hey, maybe the prison WAS a torture chamber that nobody deserves to be locked in to be treated like utter trash.

(btw i love your writing and analysis! they give me so much life :DD)

thank you anon!! this universe is ,, Fun ,, im ngl -> have this continuation of it, w/ sapnap and sam!! it’s a bit messy but oh well

(edit: i added these two asks as well bc they fit and i thought it’d be a bit redundant to rewrite this scene lmao -> the implication that dream’s admissions abt exile mightve been the result of ,, torture is. uh. yikes.) 

(This one is DARK, please heed the warnings)

TW: PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL ABUSE (heavy warning for this one), starvation, toxic relationship, manipulation, references to the prison and exile, c!sam/warden!sam critical, violence, blood, dark themes, emotional distress, child abuse, torture

“Be honest,” Sapnap starts, quiet. “What did you do?”

Sam opens his mouth - hesitates, looks away. He should’ve known that his vague words and half-explanations that had been enough to push away most of the crowd - or at least, postpone the conversation for later - wouldn’t have been nearly enough to convince the man standing in front of him, but a part of him must’ve hoped, anyway. He’s not ready to speak, not ready to admit anything to himself, never mind someone else entirely - but ‘ready’ doesn’t matter, not when Sapnap is right here, waiting.

(He ignores how ‘ready’ didn’t matter for Dream when Sam had gone in, that first time, pick in hand and nothing but questions and rage spinning in an endless cycle in his mind, whirling together into something incomprehensible, insatiable, vicious - he’s not thinking about it.

He can’t think about it.)

“Well?” Sapnap’s voice raises, impatience coloring his tone, and it’s almost enough to draw a chuckle to Sam’s lips - he’d always been a little overeager, not doing well with silence, waiting, even as a kid. It’s part of the reason why he got along with Dream so well, Dream jumping at the chance to spend time with someone that didn’t shut him down for rambling and Sapnap simply excited at the chance to have someone that would join him on his hare-brained schemes instead of dismissing him as a dumb kid- and oh. Right.

The scrunch of his face is the same, Sam realizes, absently, as the expression Sapnap had when he was little; it’s the same crease between his eyebrows, the same slight jut to his bottom lip. Even with a new scar decorating his left jaw and the shadows under his eyes and collection of faint wrinkles belying his stress, he doesn’t look all that different - still looks young, a kid playing dress up in armor too big and too war-torn to belong to him. It’s easy to forget, but even after all the wars they’ve fought, even with all of the combat experience he’s had, Sapnap’s still barely twenty - only a few weeks out of being a teenager.

(He crushes the thought of what that makes Dream - he’s not. Thinking. About. It.)

“Hello? Earth to Sam?” Sapnap snaps his fingers in front of his face, and Sam blinks away the memories, the guilt, boxing it up and filing it neatly away to deal with - later. Never, ideally.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

Only later is now, there’s no escaping this conversation, and Sam. Really doesn’t want to be talking about this, right now. Sapnap fidgets, leaning on his right foot and then his left and then rocking back again - the feeling is mutual, then, but he knows the look in the younger’s eye well enough to know that neither of them are leaving without an explanation leaving Sam’s lips.

(Netherite and iron and smoke, bloodstained pickaxe tipping up a gaunt face, hand reaching around a too-prominent jawline with bruising force - are you going to answer my question, prisoner? Or are we going to have to do this again?

He’s not-

He can’t-)

“I-,” guilt, thick and heavy, circles his throat, chokes the words rising in his mouth. What can he even say? Can words really capture the sweat-slick desperation, the bubbling lava and heat and smoke stealing away all breath and thought, leaving nothing but a humming buzz of rage burning, hissing, begging for release? Can he really describe the endless darkness and weight settling on his shoulders, the hard edges and jagged fear taking anything soft, anything kind? Words swim in the back of his throat, try to reach his teeth, fall short; bloodstained memories haunt the back of his eyelids every time he blinks; there is so much, too much, to say, and yet nothing at all.

How does he even start?

There is no sympathy on Sapnap’s face when Sam looks, but there isn’t any cruelty either, just dark, watching eyes, lips thin and pressed together, jaw clamped shut, tense. Indifference, or a pale imitation of it, meant to hide the mess of his hair, the tremble in his hands, the helpless, desperate thing growing in his pupils. Sam understands and wishes he doesn’t; regrets, and wonders if he has the right, anymore.

“It- started, as an interrogation,” Sam stumbles over his words, stares at his hands because looking at Sapnap’s face will be too much, is too much. “I was angry. The prisoner- Dream- was desperate. That cell-” he shakes his head, remembers obsidian in his hands, remembers tearing away carpet, paintings, plants, remembers leaving the box bareboned, desolate, a cage and nothing more, “It messes with you. Screws with your head. I knew it, he knew it, but I guess we didn’t realize- I guess I didn’t realize-”

(Blood and crunching bone and shrill screams - tell me what you did to him-)

“I needed information. He wasn’t talking. I got- heated, and he laughed, and something- snapped, I guess.”

(I’ll tell you I’m sorry please please sam stop please)

“All I had on me was a pickaxe. He wasn’t talking, I was desperate - angry - I needed to know. I didn’t-”

(I just knew I needed to drag him away, he was ruining everything, he was destroying everything, I just needed him to leave before he brought down the whole damn server with him - the tnt was supposed to be a one time thing)

“It was supposed to be- one time. Was never supposed to happen, at all. But I guess I got mad - for me? For Tommy? I don’t- I don’t know, and it was- easy, you know? Take away the clock, one day. Give him less potatoes the next.”

(It was easy to do it again, I guess, mess with his invitations a little, take some of his stuff. There was nobody around but me and him and he’d ruined so much, he’d messed everything up - I thought that maybe if I took away his armor enough, he wouldn’t be able to go back. He wouldn’t ruin everything.)

“He’d done- so much. He was so awful to Tommy, to everyone- I thought I could prevent that. I thought maybe if I broke him enough, he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone again. I renamed the pickaxe Will Breaker, to remind me, to remind him, I don’t know. I-”

Sam laughs, tired, poisonous, ignoring the way Sapnap whispers, stricken, looking at his hands and seeing nothing but red. Dream’s face, bruised, bloody, but glimmering with something almost like satisfaction comes to mind - and oh. Oh.

(Bloodstained teeth twisted in a bitter smile - Sam, I thought I had to.)

He gets it now. He wishes he didn't.

“I thought- ha-” His hand comes up to his face - he’s crying. When did he start crying? ”I thought I had to.”

[copias-thrall]

How would Mary goore react to hurting someone he genuinely cares about? I absolutely Love your writing!💕

Hello, nonny! Thank you, I love this ask!

This was going to be  alist, but it got away from me! 😅 

Enjoy 😘 

It wasn’t anything big.

Just a few of Mary’s favorite beers (the craft kind—not the shitty beer he drank on his shoestring budget), some of that chronic shit you’d scored and have been saving for a special occasion, and a VHS box set of horror movie classics.

***

Mary comes in and out of your life at will, and that was something you accepted—knowing he was As Is or not at all. And honestly—no, really—you liked that. You had your own shit going on, and being Mary’s expected caregiver was NOT something you wanted to add to that list.

(If someone else wanted to try to tame him and pick up after him, well…kudos to them. Less work for you.)

Mary showed up on your pivotal days and he rubbed your feet and always invited you out to trivia. You'd held him when he was coming down from a bad trip and listened to his grievances and gave him a place to stay when he was persona non grata at his own. And in a way, that made you always feel like #1 in Mary’s world…and that was good enough for you.

***

A few months ago, Mary had been lying on your couch, picking the label off his beer bottle.

“I’m gonna be away for a bit,” he’d said.

“Oh?” you’d responded as you’d mashed the controls on your gaming controller.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ll be around…but I got some shit going on.”

You’d paused your game.

“Bad shit?”

He’d waved you off.

“Neg. Just tryna get myself out there. Signed up for open mics and shit.”

He’d shifted, his long legs receding from around you and folding under him.

“So, like…I got my job at the bowling alley…but nights and weekends are kinda shot.”

You’d tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. You supported Mary’s dreams, and that meant not making an issue that he was finally trying to do something about them.

This wasn’t against you. It was for him.

When you’d taken too long to respond, his face had scrunched.

“But if you want—”

“It’s fine, Mare,” you’d said as you’d made yourself smile. “This is important to you, so it’s important to me.”

You’d unpaused your game.

“Just don’t expect me to not beat this game without you.”

He’d grabbed the controller out of your hands with a snarl, causing you to cry out when you died.

“Fuck the game.” His hand had fisted your shirt. “Give me a night to remember.”

You had. Twice.

***

Mary had texted you occasionally over the next few weeks—a few memes, a few drunken key-smashes, a dick pic, and 2 grainy videos of his performances for critique—but such contact was sporadic, and you’d never seen him in real-time. 

He’d blown in one night, five weeks in, with a box of pizza just as you'd been heading out to meet your crew. When you’d told him you’d made plans, he’d looked so crestfallen that you’d caved and canceled on them.

While he’d been there, he’d given you a date in 3 weeks.

“That Saturday I have nowhere to be,” he’d said as he’d chewed. “I can spend the whole day with you.”

You’d been careful not to seem too eager.

“Oh yeah? Should I plan shit?”

He’d crammed the whole crust into his mouth and had given you a doughy grin.

“Why ’’ya think I told you?”

You didn’t know what you’d expected, but when he’d had to bounce 90min later, you were still surprised. (That was hardly enough time to digest!)

“Sorry,” he’d winced. “I gotta be on a bus in 45min.”

He’d left, and you’d been too embarrassed to join your friends who were only just going to the second bar.

Having fun with your man ;) ? one of your friends had texted.

What do you think? You’d texted back before changing into your pjs and turning on Netflix.

***

So maybe you were low-key excited about your day with Mary.

Perhaps you’d spent those 3 weeks figuring out the perfect date—something that said, “I missed you,” without saying “But in a clingy way.”

Beer and horror were two things the both of you were totally into, and you knew he’d be exhausted, so it seemed perfect. You’d bought the boxed set off of eBay and splurged for expedited shipping; you’d borrowed your brother’s old dual TV/VCR from his college days; and you’d forgone your weekly Chinese takeout for the craft beer funds. (And if things got steamy, well…even better.) 

***

A few days before The Date, you’d run into Mary on the bus. You were coming home from a shift, and he was going to his.

He’d brightened and waved you over—as if you weren’t already on your way—and you’d plopped down beside him with a tired grin. You’d told him of the latest entitled asshole, and he’d showed you another clip of him on guitar.

Before your stop had come up, you’d tentatively placed your hand over his.

“We still on for Saturday?”

He’d blinked at you a few moments before grinning.

“Yeah.”

“Should I plan a whole day for us, then?”

His arm had crept around your shoulders before pulling you into him to kiss your temple.

“Yeah, why not.”

***

That morning, you wake up happy. 

Mary will be over soon.

You roll over and grab your phone.

When should I expect you? :-* 

It takes him an hour to respond. You aren’t surprised—Mary isn’t known for being a morning person—so when your phone dings, you grab it up excitedly.

An excitement that dies when you read his text. And reread. And re-reread.

not 2day 

goin upste 2 show 

You blink.

What show? Didn’t we confirm? 

yeah. got me thinkin 

why no show? 

so i chked 

i missed one 

gotta do it 

Rage blooms hot, then cold behind your eyes and down your cheeks.

But you said we had the whole day. I made plans. 

save em 

ths is impt 2 me 

We’ve had this planned for weeks. 

i thot u suprted me 

on a bus cnt tlk 

You send a few more irate texts, but he doesn’t respond, and you toss your phone across the room with a shout of frustration. You scrub the hot tears from your eyes before they can fall.

And…on paper, Mary isn’t wrong. Nothing you had planned won’t keep: movies, beer, takeout.

But…

It gives you a stark look at what you mean to Mary. He gave you this date and confirmed it. He knew you were making plans.

How long was he going to wait to tell you he wasn’t even in the city anymore?

You fight the urge to kick the VHS tapes across the floor, but you open the fridge and grab a beer. If Queen Elizabeth could have beer for breakfast, then it was good enough for you.

Once you’ve downed all eight, you move on to the jug of vodka you keep for cleaning.

When you empty only liquid from your stomach into the toilet, you grab your frozen fries out of the freezer. You roll a handful of the cold ones in your mouth as you wait for the others to crisp in the oven, and once you’ve consumed the cooked ones, you go right back to the vodka.

***

Opening your eyes the next morning is a mistake, so you take a few deep breaths and go back to sleep.

When you wake again, your heart is fluttering, your stomach turns, and it feels like there’s an ice pick behind one eye. Shuffling slowly, you make your way out to your kitchen where you take some painkillers, drink some pickle juice, and eat two slices of plain bread.

The sense that you did something awful stays with you, but you’re in no condition to find your phone and see what you’ve done. Instead, you go back to bed. It takes more deep breathing to settle yourself, but once you do fall asleep, you’re out for hours.

You don’t feel amazing when you swim to consciousness again, but you feel at least like a human being. 

Your phone is dead when you find it under the sink, and waiting the 5 or so minutes for it to charge feels like waiting to face the executioner.

It’s both better and worse than you expected.

You breathe a sigh of relief to see that there are no vague social media posts, and you didn’t drunk dial any of your friends, but…

The texts to and from Mary are ugly.

Apparently, you’d managed not to send him angry texts until he’d sent you another clip of his performing. But then the floodgates had opened.

You’d started with telling him you didn’t give a shit about the show, how he was an inconsiderate ass, and then you'd devolved into incomprehensible, typo-ridden texts that accused him of using you, that you were only something to do when he didn’t have anything better to do, that he was an entitled man-child and if he didn’t apologize, you were done.

Mary’s texts in response range from him being angry at your disregard, to heated retorts you were blowing this out of proportion (and he didn’t appreciate your “ad hominem” attacks), to a cool detachment that this wasn’t working over text and he’d finish this in person.

You put your head in your hands but are too dehydrated to cry.

***

Mary doesn’t text you again during his self-imposed time frame.

You don’t text him either, but that’s more out of self-preservation than pride. There’s no point exacerbating the situation…and you’re pretty sure there’s no coming back from this, so why speed up the inevitable?

The horror tapes taunt you every time you walk by them, and you wonder if you can return them (you can’t). You give the TV back to your brother, and when he asks you how it went, you plaster a smile on your face and say, “Great!” with forced enthusiasm you hope comes across as genuine.

The primo weed goes over to your friend’s house, and the two of you wax poetic all night about existential claptrap as you devour two cheese pizzas and a bag of bbq chips. You talk about Mary without talking about Mary, and you get a heartfelt, “Sorry, dude.”

You beat the video game anyway, but it’s mostly because you needed something to occupy your mind and less out of spite (though that’s there as well).

***

Despite waiting on tenterhooks to hear anything from Mary, you truly don’t really expect to. You know you’d been atrocious, even if it had been prompted by his careless disregard, and you know Mary isn’t really the kind of guy that troubles himself with relationships that are hard.

Not that you’re in a relationship.

So when there’s a knock on your door a week later and Mary’s behind it, you’re genuinely surprised.

You gape through the peephole in shock.

“Fuck. If you’re there, just let me in, ok?”

Fumbling with the chain, you unlock the door and crack it open.

“Mary?”

“You gonna let me in?” he rasps.

You shrug and step away from the door, and he shuffles inside. He looks around like you’ve changed anything (you haven’t), before turning around to face you.

You close the door and stare back.

He folds his arms. “Breaking up with someone over text is tacky.”

What you think is, So you’ve come to do it in person, but what you say is, “Can’t break up if you’re not together.”

He winces and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Yeah…apparently I’ve ‘taken advantage' of you.”

This…isn’t what you’re expecting.

“I…what?”

“Can we sit down?”

You nod, and Mary sits rigidly on the edge of your couch. You curl up in the chair on the opposite side.

He rubs his palms down his greasy jeans before he speaks.

“I mean…you pissed me off, ok?”

You nod.

“But, like—you weren’t wrong, ok? I kinda knew that deep down, but I’m a dumbass, you know?”

You don’t nod.

“And I kinda bitched about the whole thing…but the resounding response was that I was the asshole.”

He angles his body toward you.

“I guess I’ve kinda been treating you like my best friend that I fuck sometimes.”

Your entire face flushes—you’d always thought you’d maybe ranked a little higher than that—and you duck your head so he can’t see the tears that you blink back.

There’s a swish of fabric, and you startle hard when Mary’s hand is at your chin. He jerks back with a Sorry.

“Shit—that’s not what I…” he blows out a breath and puts his hands behind his head before looking back up at you.

“But you aren’t, and…fuck this is harder than I thought.”

So this is it.

Waiting for him to do the deed is clearly going to be excruciating, so you take charge of this whole shit-show.

“I understand,” you say flatly.

“You do?”

“It’s ok, Mare-Mary. It’s my own fault for reading too much into it. I just…I saw what I wanted to see, I guess. I know you don’t need…” you look down into your lap, “…my shit in your life.

He makes a noise low in his throat, and then he’s squatting in front of you, his hot hands planting on your knees.

“But I want your shit in my life.”

You squint your eyes at him.

“But what I said…”

He grasps your hands in his.

“Pissed me off, yeah…cuz I wasn’t fucking thinking, ok? You’re like one of the only people who gives a crap about what’s important to me. And all I could see was you suddenly…not.”

Anger wells up in you again, and you yank away your hands.

“Weeks, Mary…weeks of you all over the tri-state area, and you thought I didn’t care because of one night?! A night you promised to me?”

He sits back on his heels. “I know…fuck. Ok? At the time, it just felt…like the show couldn’t be rescheduled. Our night could.”

Because you’re what he does when he’s bored.

You curl in on yourself.

“Shit.” He leans forward again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, ok? I’m fucking on my knees here.”

You blink at him. 

What? 

“Please, please don’t break—say we’re done.”

“What?”

“Look, we can go into my shitty fucking psychological profile on why I fuck around later…but right now I need you to know that I knew it was you before I fucking knew it was you.”

You uncurl.

“That…’what’ was me?”

He knees forward and presses your hands to his face.

“The one I wanna spend my free time with. The one whose opinion means the most. The one who was the first person I wanted to share all my good shit with. You’re the one I missed, and—after that awful fucking night—everything felt pointless because I knew I couldn’t come over and jam about it.”

“Mare—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m a fucking dumbass. I’m saying I thought I was pissed at you, but I was pissed at myself for fucking it up.” He sighs. “I’m saying no fucking one was on my side and they all told me to get my shit together.”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, and for the first time, you can see how they’re outlined in red, his subtle crow’s feet more pronounced.

“So, you’re not done with me? I’m not…too much trouble?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “What? Shit, no. I’m asking you to not be done with me. I’ll give you all the nights you want. Fucking text me, and my ass’ll be here posthaste.” He shifts up, and his thumb ghosts over your lips. “Anything to get you to give me that secret smile again.”

“Secret smile?” you ask while trying to perform the action.

Mary actually blushes.

“Uh…yeah. You get this…” he makes a motion across his face, “…when you’re giving it back to me.” His fingers shove back through his hair as he casts his eyes down. “You don’t give it to anyone else.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve made a study of it.”

You’re a swirl of emotions. Mary’s apologized—has admitted he was wrong and has asked for…more—but you’re still hurt. And embarrassed.

But he’s looking up at you with wet, hopeful eyes.

“Do you…” you start carefully, “…do you know why I got so mad?”

That statement was clearly not what he was expecting, and he blinks at you a few times before nodding and looking down at the floor.

“I made a…uh, commitment…to you. And I treated it like it didn’t mean anything.”

He gives you a look like, Did I get it right? and that’s close enough—even if he’s missing some of the nuance.

You nod. “And I know I…wasn’t…the best.”

His face contorts, and your heart sinks.

“You…” he shakes his head. “You said some awful things…some hurtful shit—and it really got in my head.”

Mary gives you a complicated look.

“Shit that you’d been pissed about for a while.” He traces your knee. “Shit you could’ve said to me…but shit I should have noticed. Fuck.” He presses his forehead into your knees, and you can’t stop yourself from sinking your fingers into his hair.

He takes it as encouragement and presses into you before looking up again.

“I just kinda wanna put that whole night behind us. It feels like a fucking ouroboros of fault. And like maybe I created it. But let’s agree to like…not do that again.”

You look down at him, and his eyes search your face.

“Ok…but what does all this mean, Mare? I can’t…I need to be something to you, ok? More than just your friend.”

Mary nods emphatically, and he takes your hand and curls his into it.

“No more fuck-ups, and no one else…can we start there?”

He’s saying all the right words, but you’re still trepidatious—you know Mary, and he doesn’t like constraints.

“I…just…how can I believe you?”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe you even have to ask. He rises and awkwardly reaches out to touch your face before drawing his hand back.

“Cuz you’re important to me. I care about you, and I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

And yeah. Ok.

[bonesbuckleup]

Lord, this answer got long. I’m a little embarrassed about it, but I wrote it, so it’s getting posted. It’s a literal essay. Sorry but also not?

TLDR: Yes, the show is arguably unfair to Sokka about Kya, but it also follows a pattern where Sokka stays quiet about Bad Feelings and plays by the rules established for his character. Katara, meanwhile, grieves loudly and often, and appears to be under the impression that because Sokka’s grief is silent it doesn’t exist, which also fits her character/interactions completely. Neither of them are right or wrong, but it sets them up on inevitable collisions.

Now. If you want to join me on a cactus-juice fueled descent into madness, proceed below the cut.

Number one. We’re referring to this exchange in “The Southern Raiders,” where the Gaang is talking about Zuko and Katara going after the man who killed Kya, which is vicious and brutal and never reflected on:

Aang: You sound like Jet. Katara: It's not the same! Jet attacked the innocent. This man, he's a monster. Sokka: Katara, she was my mother, too, but I think Aang might be right. Katara (angry, yelling): Then you didn't love her the way I did! Sokka (visibly hurt, softly): Katara.

And that’s it. Upon returning, Katara apologizes to Aang and not, as Anon is absolutely correct in pointing out, to Sokka, who is 100% the more injured party. Now. Is it possible this is one of the rare missteps from the atla writers? Yes. Absolutely. Is that the answer I’m about to write a literal fucking essay about? No. Because it’s more painful fun to take it as face value and talk subtext.

First, a reminder that this show is fucking good at what it does. It teaches you how each character grieves as we go: Aang explodes, often triggering the Avatar state, usually crying or angry, and when he does try to repress his Bad Feelings it rarely lasts longer than a day; Toph either shuts down or gets mad, but either way she doesn’t like people seeing her having Bad Feelings and often storms away, knowing that she can’t control it no matter how much she might want to; Zuko yells at the sky in a rainstorm or yells at his dad in an underground tunnel or challenges Zhao to an Agni Kai or yells at his uncle in a jail cell and generally is an emotive nuclear bomb because the boy has feelings and if he keeps them inside for more than three seconds he might explode okay.

Then we have Katara and Sokka.

Let’s start with Katara, since she has the most textual and straightforward displays of grief. She’s really the only one to talk about Kya’s death in Book 1. If Sokka mentions it, it’s barely in passing. I don’t think we hear Hakoda address her death at all (which I’ll return to in a moment.) Katara’s grief is loud. It’s angry. It’s still very much a living thing for her. She thinks she sees Kya in the swamp and breaks down crying, and tells Aang and Sokka about it with no hesitation. When she’s angry and sad at Hakoda for leaving, she acts out and is visibly upset with him, yells at him, cries at him. She out-loud hates Zuko when she comes to the conclusion that he told her about Ursa and got her to talk about Kya to manipulate her. It isn’t that her grief is performative, because it’s a very real and terrible thing, but it’s a grief that’s to be witnessed.

Then, Sokka. Sokka’s grief is more complicated because it exists almost entirely in subtext, especially in regard to Kya. We really only hear him talk about Kya twice, both in Book 3. First, to Toph, when he tells her that he can’t remember what Kya looks like. Worth noting, however, that even though it is Sokka talking, this is still centered on Katara and Katara’s grief. The next time is when Zuko asks what happened to Kya, and Sokka tells the story that leads into the initial flashback. Sokka doesn’t talk about his mom. This is a fact of the show. It’s such a fact of the show that, in “Southern Raiders,” after the exchange at the start of this post, while Katara and Zuko are on the hunt, Sokka doesn’t bring up Kya again and is messing around with Aang. Like nothing has happened or is currently happening--which I’ll come back to in a moment.

So while we can use Kya as a perfect example of how Katara grieves, we can’t really use her for Sokka. So let’s use Yue instead. Moments we see (or don’t see) Sokka grieving Yue:

In the opening to Book 2, we briefly have a shot of Sokka with the moon imposed behind him.

“The Swamp,” where Sokka’s vision is of Yue accusing him of not protecting her. This one is one of the more textual moments of grief--”I think about Yue all the time”--but what’s awful great about it is how Sokka tells Aang and Katara. Aang, obviously, has no qualms about sharing his vision. Katara openly talks about seeing Kya. Sokka only tells them about Yue when explicitly asked. Even then, he doesn’t mention what she said to him. From this, we can assume that Sokka is still holding onto a lot of guilt over her death--guilt that he won’t let Aang and Katara see. Anyway. Moving on.

“The Serpent’s Pass.” After spending all day panic protecting Suki, he tells her that he lost someone, but doesn’t go much further into detail, just saying that he can’t when she tries to kiss him. Of course, this is all happening in front of the moon. Again, though, Sokka stays vague. He doesn’t tell her any details.

“The Puppetmaster,” Toph posits that maybe the moon spirit has gone mean and is kidnapping people. Sokka snaps at her, in a moment definitely meant for laughs, saying, “The Moon Spirit is a gentle, loving lady. She rules the sky with compassion and ... lunar goodness!” It is a funny moment, but here’s what we can take from it: Toph doesn’t know about Yue. Toph is a Feral Bastard a lot of the time, but she also knows where the line is, and I don’t think she’d’ve said that if she’d known.

“Boiling Rock,” in arguably the most quoted (and well deservedly so!) line in the entire show. “My first girlfriend turned into the moon.” “...that’s rough, buddy.” COMEDIC GOLD. Also, weirdly, the literal only time that Sokka explicitly tells someone about Yue in the course of the show.

“Ember Island Players” which I haven’t hit in my rewatch yet, but I definitely remember a moment where Suki asks Sokka when he was gonna tell her he made out with the moon, and he tearfully shushes her. Again, played for laughs, but the implication is that he still hasn’t told Suki about what happened.

This plays perfectly into the same way that Sokka (doesn’t) talks about his mom. When the Bad Feelings come, Sokka either avoids them and finds a distraction (Goofs with Aang--see, told ya we’d come back to that) or stays silent. When someone explicitly asks him about the Bad Feelings--what he saw in the swamp, what’s eating at him in “Sokka’s Master,” why he’s panic-protecting Suki--he’ll answer, but often talks around the actual issue. (Interestingly, it’s in regard to Suki we see the most explicit manifestation of Sokka grieving as Azula taunts him during the invasion: he cries, he attacks Azula, he yells and questions her despite the fact he knows she’s wasting their time. I think this one hits him because, as this beautiful post points out, Suki’s the protector in the relationship, and Sokka can actually chill out for 2 seconds. But he let his guard down, and Azula got Suki. Anyway. That’s probably a different essay: back to the matter at hand.) We even see this in “Boiling Rock.” There’s a moment where they think Hakoda is not with the other political prisoners. Sokka’s tense, drawn tight, but the only thing he says is, “No.”

Basically, we’ve got Katara, who grieves loudly and rages and is kinda like white-water rapids that churn and churn and churn. And we’ve got Sokka, who, to quote John Mulaney, looks at his grief and says, “I’ll just keep all my emotions right here and then one day I’ll die.” Iceberg grief, to keep the water metaphor going.

And where did these come from? Yup! Water Tribe gender roles! What we know from the show is that, while the South is typically more progressive (women can train as benders and marry who they want, at least) than the North, it’s still very rigid: the men are warriors/hunters/protectors, the women stay home to cook/clean/child-rear.

Now: subtext! And why I think they are this way!

We’ll start with Katara. The last waterbender in the South Pole. She no doubt grew up doted on. If I say she’s most likely a little spoiled, I don’t mean it in a bad way--I mean it in a she’s the last living remnant of this aspect of their culture kind of way. When raiders come, she’s probably the first priority to protect. Kya dies to keep her safe. Her needs are generally put before the community as a whole. (This isn’t to say that Katara doesn’t contribute or care about her community, because she 100% does). But! Especially in Book 1, we see Katara often considering her opinions as facts (trusting Jet, the waterbending scroll) and doesn’t always pause to consider the larger impact that her actions will have (scroll and Jet again, challenging Pakku, dressing up as the Painted Lady despite the fact the factory will hold the village responsible). And many of these actions are good! But we see a lot of Katara being pretty self-centered--what can I do, how does this impact me, how do I feel about this? And this isn’t a bad thing! This aspect of her character makes her complicated and complex! Katara loves her family and protecting people and caring for them! She’s extremely empathetic! But she also struggles to meet people where they’re at when they emote in a different way than she does (see: her clashes with Toph, her initial problems with Zuko joining the group, the above interaction with Sokka). It’s also worth talking about how Katara witnessed her mother’s death, which no doubt makes her grief about it a sharper thing.

Then, again, Sokka. Also loved in his community! But a normal kind of love, I’d assume. He probably was raised on stories of the Fire Nation dragging waterbenders away. No one exemplifies the Water Tribe ride-or-die mentality quite as well as Sokka, or the gender roles of the man as the warrior/protector, so you gotta believe Hakoda raised that kid to look after his sister at all costs, which we see throughout the show (already preparing to go after Aang in the South Pole because he know Katara’s going anyway, “You burned my sister!”) And he isn’t there when his mom dies. He finds out later. He goes from feeling like a victor who helped chased the raiders away to the worst realization of his life. I have to imagine he’s ashamed by the fact that he thought everything was going to be okay, which leads into his worldview of assuming that nothing is okay ever in any circumstance.

Finally, Hakoda. Who never, unless I’ve forgotten something, talks about Kya. All we know is that their family fell apart after her death (per Sokka in “The Runaway,” learning how Katara stepped up to hold everything together) and sometime after he took the warriors and straight up left. He apologizes for leaving but doesn’t address the fact that he left Katara and Sokka with no parents at all, only the war. This is, uh, not exactly echoing a healthy coping mechanism?

My theory: Kya dies. Since the Water Tribe is so embedded in gender roles, Hakoda probably shut down and/or checked out emotionally for a while. This leaves his kids on their own to deal with their shit, and we learn Katara does everything she can to keep her family going. As the most protected individual in the South, Katara’s probably been taught that emotions equal attention, and uses her temper/caring/sadness to help bring her community closer. Meanwhile, Sokka, who hero worships his dad, watches Hakoda go stoic and learns that “real men” shove their shit down. Additionally, Katara’s grief is deafeningly loud, and Sokka’s number 1 role is to keep Katara safe. He’s taught that the Bad Feelings only get in the way and make things worse, and so he learns to be fine no matter what kind of terrible is going down around him.  Basically, Katara learns to use grief as a needle and thread, and Sokka learns to bury it as deep as he can and avoid it at all costs. Opposite reactions to the same trauma. Katara gets mad and demands to be heard and listened to and seen, and Sokka gets sarcastic and prepares himself for the day the Fire Nation ships come back for his sister.

So. Back to those above lines from “Southern Raiders.”

From a writing standpoint, I do wish the final moment was between Katara and Sokka versus Katara and Aang. They could’ve had an almost identical interaction, but it would’ve been more nuanced. I don’t think that Katara needed to apologize, but I think we needed some acknowledgement from both of them: Katara continuing the lesson she’s learned about how her pain doesn’t entitle her to hurt other people (including Sokka, who is there no matter what she says or does), and Sokka that Katara’s process of grieving had to involve this catharsis.

Or. Maybe not. Because again--subtext. Their grief works in such different ways that I have to imagine this isn’t a new fight. It was probably brutal and vicious for a very long time. Maybe that’s part of what made Sokka try and go with the warriors. Maybe that’s part of why Katara gets mad so quickly in the first episode of the show. But eventually, unable to find an answer, they just...stop talking about it. Because the two of them don’t talk about it. Katara only talks about her mom with people who aren’t Sokka, and Sokka does exclusively to Toph and Zuko.

The only time I can think of Katara and Sokka talking about it together is the exchange at the top of this post, and it gets ugly fast, and it isn’t brought up again. It’s a fight that will never be resolved, because they fundamentally can’t react to one another in a way that can be universally understood.

“You didn’t love her the way I did!” Katara yells, loudly, because if Sokka loved her then why isn’t he raging? Why isn’t he getting his sword and coming to help her? Why doesn’t Sokka want to burn this firebender to the ground and make him see and hear and look at what he’s done to the world? To their family? He must not understand. He must not care as much or he’d be screaming with her.

“Katara,” Sokka says, much quieter, and adds nothing else. Not because there isn’t anything else to say, but because Sokka can’t talk about this kind of thing. Not doesn’t want to, but can’t, because it’s his job to protect people, protect Katara, and if he lets all those old hurts come boiling up he can’t do that, because that ends with losing focus and losing control and people getting hurt or going away. Why can’t she understand that?

And then they do what they always do. They don’t bring it up again.