#be. Emotionally cruel for the sake of rubbing in a point. (only emotionally cruel when it alleviates boredom or is about gin.)

[joelletwo]

has gintama fandom already had the umi-style "(metaphorically comparable to) DID or not "/distinct people or just personas argument about shouyoutsuro where do ppl land on that. i keep having it in my head on the side of the onis being (oh they are one but many) just the one guy but expressed differently.

.

[findingtheperfectcharacter]

Hiding from the spotlight

Unsymp October 1!

Tw: Child abuse (physical manhanding a child and emotionally being terrible, and ignoring their wants, unsymp Patton, Symp everyone else, child!sides (the twins and Virgil are 10.), implied Loceit

@unsympathetic-october-2020

Logan hated these kinds of things. So many child fears in one room, he could see the way some of their bodies sat stiffly in their chairs. Or how others clung to their parents. The subtle shake in their voices as they practiced their lines. According to Keysers and Parrett 2004's study on monkeys, similar neurons are released when people do an action to when they see an action occurring. This explained why seeing those children in this state made his stomach twist into metaphorical knots.

He couldn't stand it and led the twins to a smaller out-of-the-way hallway.The 10-year-olds were practicing their dance for the car jingle with practiced ease. He could still remember the day when they first made that PowerPoint listing the reasons why they should be allowed to audition professionally and what could he say, one slide of, "it'll be fun" one of "It'll keep me from stealing" and 18 more slides of 'please, pretty please' and puppy dog faces... It was an extremely compelling.

"I don't want to be here." He heard a voice mutter. He turned and found a child in a black hoodie and a cloud shaped pin gripping the edge of his jeans. He was younger than his own boys, or at the very least smaller. His eyes flickered back and forth, anxiously looking around it seemed like he was trying to hide from something.

"Where's your guardian?" Logan asked, the child shook his head and clung to his leg, "Please no, please no, don't let him find me."

Logan was frankly bewildered by this situation and mildly uncomfortable with this child gripping onto his leg, but he couldn't help but have pity for him as he began to weep. He shook him off so he could kneel down and look into his black eyes.

"What's your name?" Logan asked.

The child sniffed and played with the strings of his hoodie, "Virgil."

Logan nodded, "Well Virgil, I have no legal authority to separate you from your guardian and frankly there are too many witnesses for me to do so and get away with it. A Far more reasonable thing for me to do at the moment is to talk to your guardian about the situation as an adult on your behalf."

Virgil's eyes widened, sparkling in the light, "You'd really do that for me?"

He nodded, he thought it wouldn't be too difficult to convince his guardian to let Virgil not do the audition. Virgil took his hand and led him to the bathrooms where a man with a baby blue polo was fretting. The man's face lit up and he hugged Virgil, picking him up and spinning him.

"Virgy! Oh dear why did you run away like that?" He turns to Logan, a brilliant smile on his face, "I'm so sorry for all of this trouble." Virgil's guardian tried to pet his short black curls but the child turned away, so he gripped his head with one hand and forced Virgil's head to his chest. "My name's Patton," he held out his hand. 

Logan didn't take it, "Your child, Virgil. He sharred with me the fact that he does not wish to be here. As a fellow parent, I suggest that you quit the auditions for the sake of his health. I would also suggest that you don't touch him unless he wishes to be touched."

Patton laughed, "Is this how you get all the parents to quit?" He kisses Virgil's cheek, "We're prepared for a little competition and we're totally going to wow those judges right sweetie." 

Virgil stayed quiet until Patton flicked him, "Virgey! Pay attention, what did poppa just say?"

"We're gonna wow the judges." His voice was barely audible. 

Patton booped his nose, "That's right you are you little star! Oh! That rhymes! Neat!" He turns his attention back to Logan, "Where are your kids anyway?" 

Logan cursed mentally, it was not typical of him to get caught up in these kinds of things- but he did. He ran down the hall to see Remus, seconds from hitting Roman on the shoulder with his toy morning star. 

"Remus." He said and the boy immediately dropped it. 

"HE STARTED IT!"

"WHAT?! No I didn't, you did with your giant oaf feet!"

"At least my feet taste good."

"What does that- what do you mean?!"

"Do you peanut butter toe soak?"

Logan rubbed his temple, as the boys continued to speak, "Court is now in session."

The twins huffed and sat down quietly. Logan pointed at Roman, "Roman, you have the stands."

And so the conversation went on with the children defending themselves and cross examining each other until a decision could be made. After the final verdict (Remus owed Roman an apology for enacting violence in this case as it was not self defense even if Roman's words were cruel and Roman promised not to insult him for 2 weeks as reparations for emotional damages.)

As soon as the argument ended Roman blurted out, "So who was that creepy kid you were talking to?"

Remus bumped him, "You're not supposed to call people creepy."

"But he was! He looked like a Vampire... Do you think that's why he was wearing that hood? Dad are you a vampire now?!"

"Can you imagine how cool it would be to have a bloodsucked as a dad?! Think he'd bite me, I wanna see how sharp those teeth are!" He made a biting motion in the air. 

Logan cleared his throat, "Actually boys, that kid's name is Virgil and I think he's in big trouble. The kind of trouble daddy fixes."

Roman grinned, "Ooooh solving crimes? Can we help?" 

Logan ruffled his hair, "Leave this one to me Princey, I think getting you two involved will only lead to more trouble."

..................

"I-IeeEe Virgil's voice came in as an offkey whine. The pianist looked at him with a smile, "Go on kid, take your time." Patton was in the audience and gave him a big thumbs up, "I" his eyes began welling up with tears.

Patton looked at Virgil than the judges and said, "May I talk with him, just for a second. It's his first audition and I think my kiddo just got a little stage fright." The one on the far left shrugged, Virgil whimpered when he grabbed his arm and dragged him offstage. 

"What is wrong with you? Do you like embarrassing me is that it? Do you like making me look like I can't handle my kid? This is two times today!" Virgil mouthed out a small I'm sorry. Patton laughed a louder, harsher sound than anything he did in public, "If you were sorry you wouldn't have done it. Stupid brat," he gripped Virgil's arm more tightly, "I'm giving you the world and all you want to do is whine and complain, whine and complain every goddamn second. 'I don't wanna do sports poppa, I don't wanna do art poppa. You're useless! And too old to be crying like this." Virgil's breath hitched in between sobs as Patton grabbed his shoulders, "Stop crying and do something!"

Logan burst into the hallway, a shining blue light in the darkness, Patton straightened his shirt, "Oh hi! It's you again, how did your kids do-"

"The feeling's far from mutual. I just felt the need to inform you that my husband is a lawyer for cases of child abuse and everything you just said and did was caught on camera." He showed Patton his iphone, to his utter horror, Logan couldn't help the beam on his face as he watched the man's eyes grow to the size of dinner plates. He pat his shoulder and gave a small nod to Virgil, who seemed equally awe-struck.

"I reccomend you contact your lawers as soon as you can."

And with that, Logan walked away, confident that soon Virgil would be safe. He looked down at his own kids and smiled at the thought of the quiet black haired boy finding a family of his own.

[ammy246]

Summer Rose is alive theory

I’m going to use parts of Red Like Roses Part 2 to support this

Ruby: I couldn’t take it, couldn’t stand another minute. Couldn’t bear another day without you in it. All of the joy I had known for my life, was stripped away from me the minute that you died! To have you in my life was all I ever wanted, but now without you I’m a soul forever haunted. Can’t help but feel like I’ve taken you for granted! No way in hell that I can ever comprehend this!

Ruby is devastated over the loss of her mother and feels as if she took her for granted, and now, she can’t get over the loss.

Ruby: I wasn’t dreaming when they told me you were gone, I was wide-awake and feeling that they had to be wrong! How could you leave me when you swore that you would stay? Now I’m stuck inside this nightmare every single f-ing day!

How could you leave me when you said you would stay. This implies two things: one, that Summer said she would never leave, but died on a mission. Two, that something occurred on that mission that made Summer realize that she couldn’t return, and maybe if she was being hunted by Salem’s people like Maria, she realized that she had to do so in order to keep her family safe.

Ruby: It’s like a movie, but there’s no happy-ending. Every scene fades black and there’s no pretending. This little fairy-tale doesn’t seem to end well, there’s no knight in shining armor who will me from the spell!

Ruby’s life becomes miserable from here on out, and there’s no one to wake her from the cruel reality about her mother no longer being there.

Ruby: I know you didn’t plan this, you tried to do what’s right. But in the middle of this madness, I’m the one left to win this fight!

This again confirms that Summer either didn’t plan on dying or leaving Ruby behind, and because of what happened, Ruby was left to do everything on her own.

Ruby: Red like roses, fills my head with dreams and finds me! Always closer, to the emptiness and sadness that takes the place of you!

Ruby starts having nightmares about how she imagines Summer’s death to be, and of other things, such as what happens to her family now that she’s gone, and can never fill the void that Summer left behind.

Now, let’s look at Summer’s lyrics, since this is where things get really interesting.

Summer: I know you’re broken down by anger and by sadness. You feel I left you in a world full of madness. Wish I could talk to you if only for a minute, make you understand the reasons why I did it

Notice how first-person is used for part of this. The first-person implies that, that is how Summer currently feels, and it only switches to past-tense at the end when she’s thinking either about her death or whens she abandoned her daughter, and the beginning implies that if she is alive, she understands what her actions did to Ruby and she wishes she could go and tell her why she left, but something is preventing her from doing so.

Summer: I wanna tell you that you’re all that ever mattered. Want you to know that for eternity I’m shattered. I tried so hard to protect you, but I failed to. And in a prison of abandonment, I’ve jailed you!

Maybe Summer fought against some of Salem’s people and either died or just lost the fight, which is why she says that she failed to protect, Ruby. Whatever Summer did or tried to do was for Ruby’s sake. Also, the use of the word ‘abandonment’ is interesting, since it implies that Summer isn’t dead and just left, but hurt Ruby as a result.

Summer: I never planned that I would leave you there alone, I was sure that I would see you when I made it back home! And all those times I swore it would be ok, now I’m nothing but a liar and you’re thrown into the fray!

Summer never thought she would die/leave and thought it would be a typical mission and that she would see Ruby again. Now, she feels bad for being positive with Ruby, since her words became lies later on.

Summer: This bedtime story ends with misery ever after, the pages are torn and there’s no final chapter! I didn’t have a choice. I did what I had to do, I made a sacrifice and forced a sacrifice on you!

If Summer just left, she is saying that she can never go back and resolve everything. She also says that her actions were necessary, but in return, Ruby will take her place and follow the same path she did. Her death backs this up as well, though, since if she’s dead, she literally can’t go back to her.

Summer: I know you’ve lived a nightmare, I caused so much pain! But baby, please don’t do what I did! I don’t want you to live your life in vain!

Summer is well-aware of the pain her actions caused. But, she also confirms that she doesn’t want Ruby to go down the same path. Maybe she encountered Salem herself or learned the truth, and she doesn’t want Ruby to fight back, because Salem is ‘unbeatable’.

Ruby: Red Like Roses, fills my head with dreams and finds me! Always closer, to the emptiness and sadness that has come to take the place of you!

Ruby has never recovered and still suffers because of this today, we just don’t see it much in the show, because Ruby is really good at masking her true feelings.

Summer: You’re not the only one who needed me, I thought you understood

This implies that Summer died/left not just for Ruby, but for other people, and she thought that Ruby would understand.

Ruby: You were the one I needed and left me as I always feared you would!

Ruby needed Summer more than anything, yet Summer left. This also confirms that Ruby thought it was a possibility, and she wasn’t ‘too young to understand’ like Yang said back in Volume 2. She just could accept it. Also, notice how the word ‘left’ is used. This makes it sound like Summer just walked away from Ruby and her family instead of dying like we were lead to believe.

Summer: Would I change it if I could?

Summer wonders if she would change a thing, because if she left to protect Ruby, Ruby is still alive, so she feels as if she succeeded, and she may have also helped many other people on the mission she went on, which is why she’s wondering if she actually regrets it at all.

Ruby: It doesn’t matter how, the petals scatter now. Every nightmare just discloses, it’s your blood that’s red like roses! It doesn’t matter what I do, nothing ever takes the place of you!

Ruby says that even if Summer regrets her actions, she can’t do a thing about it, because she’s dead or has already made her choice and abandoned her. However, Ruby is never able to recover from the loss, no matter how much she smiles.

Ruby: Red like roses, fills my head with dreams and finds me! Always closer, to the emptiness and sadness that has come to take the place of you!

The reason we haven’t got a part 3, is because the 4 girls get another song added once they have character development, and Ruby has never moved past her grief. She loves her mother and misses her more than anything, to the point where she is angry at her mother for leaving/dying, even though Ruby understands why she did it.

If Summer only left, she probably realized she was being hunted and that her name was known by Salem’s people, which caused her to abandon everyone in order to protect them. If they found out about Ruby when Rub was young, there would have been terrible results, and Summer knew that she had no choice but to leave in order to hide her daughter’s existence and to keep them searching for her instead. She was aware of the sacrifice she would me making and what her daughter may do/feel as a result, but was willing to do it, even if it destroyed her emotionally and physically.

I hope we get some confirmation on how Summer died if she actually did, because that can change things and add more to the plot, especially with Ruby’s character arc! And if she left and we see her alive and well, we better get good reactions from not only Ruby, but Yang and Qrow as well,  since Summer meant a lot to them, too. It would be interesting to see what she does to the show. I feel like it’ll be something big, which si why they’ve held off for so long. It may be one of the final plot points or something.

[hugotontheonbiquiffinarians]

Arthur & The Myth of Sisyphus

(Arthur/staircase juxtaposed to Sisyphus/rock)

As disclaimer, this may be a generalised statement/inductive analysis, not unique to his diegesis. Will probably be too verbose for some to read, but writing is organic as breathing for me and if I don’t discuss my beautiful clown husband at length, I might very well be caught with a bruised and desiccated lung lol (as you can probably tell, academia is hæmorrhaging into my casual diction)

I’m typing this, more or less, to illustrate my (possibly exhausted) perspective on how significant the staircase is to Arthur’s narrative. Specifically focusing on how it relates to Sisyphus and his eternal struggle to push a cumbersome stone uphill. (Says this all the while knowing I’ll lose said focus by the end of this, oops) That being said, this also just might be some cathartic release in the form of diluted research.

All things considered, with an economy that appears to teeter just so on the verge of instability, most, if not all, may resonate with the impending sense of futility that accompanies society’s defective concept and subsequent flawed execution of ‘adulthood’, including, but not limited to: excessive demands imposed by draconian academia, 9-5 corporate mandates exercised to excess; in addition to parenthood (if applicable). All for the sake of feeding continued survival in a universe where life is erroneously scrutinised under myopic scope of legality. Summarily, we can all embrace solidarity in our respective sharing of adversity, attended by a seemingly endless, merciless journey towards acceptance.

Arthur is my most current muse within the fictional realm (irreplaceable, to boot) so this character study might be more gratuitous than enlightening, but, in essence, I often like to conceive him as a resounding echo that’s effectively sound in giving voice to the voiceless; whispered and indistinct though it may be. However, it could be said that the power of his presence resides, not in the delicate, understated nuance of his vocal tone, but rather the elegant and passionate language of dance pronounced by his feet. Namely, the Sisyphean task of climbing that emblematic staircase.

Whether suffering a daily, if not arduous, ascent one derelict step at a time, or dancing a rhythmic descent to liberation, Arthur’s soles bespeak of a soul that’s been tormented relentlessly throughout the near 40 year span of his existence. Heels throbbing with Weltschmerz, the resulting ache of his travails would often appear as little more than a numbing nuisance to be rubbed away upon a less whimsical return as the prodigal son. In this way, the audience might compare Penny’s impact in Arthur’s life to that of the onerous stone that plagues Sisyphus. Despite being an absent force to her son’s oppressive intimacy with these formidable steps, there is something to be said for the manner in which concern is essentially a wisp in the void when her child’s health utters a silent plea, a murmured urgency, for attention.

Perhaps, we could all agree that a fraction of Artie’s extroverted anger towards Thomas was only partially misdirected. As a means to demonstrate the implied difficulty Arthur expresses for emotional release, especially so for repressed anger, it would have been interesting to witness a scenario in which he doesn’t heed Penny’s request whilst hiding behind a closed door. Given the egocentric brush that paints a broad stroke to her demeanour, would he be vindicated in raising his voice a few decibels ? If for no other reason than to dispel frustration by virtue of necessity. Of course, this isn’t to undermine the fact that Arthur displays potential signs of regressive behaviour (not exclusive to his circumstance but nevertheless germane). A hapless symptom of afflicted childhood incited by an inflamed basis of Nature v. Nurture.

With nearly all sense of identity drifting aimlessly as unanswered queries, there could be reason yet as to why Arthur adopts his Carnival and Joker personas. Beyond factors of aspiration and affinity alone. As someone (myself) who could be classified with mild alexithymia, all the while being fairly averse to labels, the concept of employing alter egos solely to assist in self-expression may not be uncommon, if not muted in translation. In a way that isn’t explicitly stated, we could infer that Arthur enforcing a purpose to evoke genuine smiles and laughter is a means to compensate for those of which he was deprived during his formative years. Speaking as an armchair psychologist, there could be evidenced an intimation of placebo effect for the presence of Pseudobulbar Affect. While this syndrome affects the nervous system and is hence more physiological than psychological, the nature of its infliction could be considered as a bridge between the two.

Certain conditions, of which remain unknown, from his childhood may have contributed to the development of this condition, emphasising a noted relation to thinking patterns. My theory is that any measure of neurosis is directly proportional to the degree of physical complications that may manifest. Arthur is a fairly sensitive man. A rough sketch of this attribute can be observed even whilst Arthur is gallivanting as Joker. In fact, one could even venture to say that his identity is actualised in this form. Cliché ? Yes. But, no less pertinent. Furthermore, a deduction might be made in which Carnival alludes to being a medium that balances the dichotomy between Arthur/Joker.

Yes, these may be points that have been proposed ad nauseam 😶 You also may be wondering: Exactly what role does Sisyphus play in this ?

Ultimately, I’ve come to the conclusion (hagiography) that Arthur, while emotionally sensitive, hardly translates that sensitivity to his visceral being. Revisiting the first bathroom scene, maybe one could see the gloomy reflections of Atlas and Sisyphus reflected in one burdened man, lost in soulful dance. Summarily, he could never strike me as one to admit defeat. To succumb to the siren’s lure of quietus. As illustrated by every Joker rendition before him, Arthur Fleck is no different in how his philosophy materialises. Blending the colours of absurdism and nihilism. While the assertion seems contradictory, considering Arthur’s initial intent to commit suicide on live television, I do believe his animus was strictly encouraged by his comedic inspiration, opposed to an active desire.

Fundamentally, this leads me to my final point (although, admittedly, this isn’t the end, I could literally talk to death about this man, and I will). The contrast of comic styles between Arthur and Murray. This might be the understated controversy of discourse, and my perspective on the matter may be unpopular, if even acknowledged, but just to clear the air, the following assumption isn’t meant to excuse him or his actions. Rather, to offer perspective. If you observe carefully, you might notice that there’s no distinct disparity between Murray and Arthur’s sense of humour. Given the era and its dogged appeals to censorship, Murray’s delivery could be regarded as nothing short of condensed and disguised. As our dear Artie reiterates, comedy is indeed subjective, but, as a matter of course, the brand that either presents isn’t particularly risible given context.

As an audience, we only know Murray on a superficial level. We know he’s a comedian. By the end of the film’s duration, we might have dismissed him as the stock bully. His humour was cruel, callow and sadistic when dispensed towards a man who deemed him a pillar of admiration. However, similar could be said for Arthur’s execution. Consistently morbid and sardonic, these elements of comedy that provoke laughter for Arthur comprise a vague semblance to Murray’s comedic anatomy, despite how patently trite and puerile the latter’s jesting was, when delivered to our undeserving victim.

Arthur was thoroughly justified in his feelings of despondency and disenchantment. Yet, objectively speaking, depending on either side of contention, one’s perception may be determined by whether or not his sensitivity was merely exaggerated when juxtaposed to a comedian who was, more or less, just doing his job; albeit questionably. Unprofessionally. We couldn’t know exactly what Murray was thinking or precisely why he invited Arthur on his show. Surely, public humiliation wasn’t his prime agenda. Curiously enough, I seemed to detect an air of indifference expressed by him when Arthur confessed (*insert delusional gif*). As if it was to be expected.

Ipso facto, with how the sequence pans out, there may have been the possibility of Murray personally investigating the subway murders and considering Arthur a suspect, consequently aiming to extract his confession (a reach, I know ! ) but, maybe not...

Not when the theory of Arthur contriving delusions, having been situated in Arkham the entire time, chimes as possible reasoning.

That, in itself, is a paradox...

...Will we ever ?

[satire-please]

TimDrakeWeek 2017 Day 2: Childhood/Adulthood DamiTim

Excited to try this with @iphoenixrising, @the-all-seer and @rahndom if they still want to jump and do a day. :D So far it’s been really fun.

Damian outgrew Tim in his fifteenth year.

In that summer to be precise. Though the sun baked the concrete to the point that everyone stayed inside to not fry to death...it had been a very dark summer for Tim.

Damian hadn’t been subtle at all. Anytime Tim stopped by the manor for a chemical analysis, a briefing from B or retrieve a casefile the current robin would stand side by side next to Tim. Look, compare and smirk. In June the brat was about to the bridge of his nose, by August...he was a hair taller.

“A centimeter is more than a hair I believe, Drake.”

“It’s the width of your pinky, now stop gloating.” With a hand, he pushes Damian back slightly. The teen’s been bad with personal space lately. Crowding him against walls before a mission just to prove heights is rude, dude. It’s almost as if the assassin is relishing the fact that now he can look down on Tim physically as well as emotionally.

“I’m just admiring my new perspective. This angle is surprisingly pleasing to me.” See. Tim doesn’t even know why he’s pissed. He should have been resigned the moment the tiny hell child announced Bruce was his father.

Still the fact itches. “Look, I know oxygen is thinner up there, but could you try not to lose too many brain cells?”

“I’ll try, though the weather up here is quite lovely.” Oh Alfred’s Apple Pie, Damians learned puns. Now Tim has to murder Dick. Especially when the smile Damian gives has a touch of fang. “Now come along, father needs us.”

The boy, ‘cause height difference or not that’s what he is, turns away dramatically after beckoning Tim to follow him.

“Worst. Summer. Ever.”

Dick of course makes it worse, “Who’s my shortest adorable brother?” He coos obnoxiously. Like one of those fat women making baby noises at their pet dog. His palms squish either side of Tim’s face and Tim swears to all higher powers that if Dick tries to rub their noses together he’s gonna bite him. “You are! You’re officially the shortest ruthless vigilante in the family now. I should twitter about this...to everyone.”

“If you don’t get your hands off me right now, I’m going to string you in your underwear somewhere for Bab’s viewing pleasure again.”

Dick’s fingers fly off his face as if it’s scalding. “Awwwwww, you don’t have to get that vicious Timmy.”

“I’m always this vicious, you dick. One day my pain will be yours and on that day I’ll will  remember this moment and you will be sorry.” Tim promises with spite.

Dick coyly presses a hand over his heart, "Oh Timmy, my darling petite–omph,” Dick could dodge the first strike to his thorax, but not the second. But still he wheezes out, “That would never happen!”

It happens.

“How could this happen?” Tim vindictively snickers at Dick’s cry when Damian hits seventeen. A month away for a mission and now he’s reduced to whining that Damian's not the right size to cuddle anymore. "He doesn't fit under my chin anymore." He sobs, tucking Tim under said chin tighter as Tim repeatedly attacks his kidneys. "And he keeps dragging me along if I hug him from behind. Like my weight doesn't even matter!"

"Ha. Serves you right." Tim twists around to slap his hands on Dick’s face, “Who’s the second shortest vigilante in the family now? It’s you, Dick. It’s you.”

“You’re so meeeeeeeeeean.” Dick wiggles his head closer until their noses smash together, “What did I ever do to get brothers as cruel as you?”

“It’s in your namesake, Dick.” Tim starts struggling in earnest to get away from the clingy hero. He is not a stuffed animal and would very much appreciate if his ‘siblings’ treated him less so. “Or it’s karma. Take your pick.”

Dick grumbles and childishly cheats by using his legs to make the hold more difficult.

Yet as Tim contemplates his fate on the floor in this horrid octopus grip he actually has to admit...Damian has seemed to mellow out?

“Did you forget who’s the senior vigilante here? Just because you inherited B’s monstrous height doesn’t mean you’re any less of a brat Damian.”

Damian taunting sweeps his arm towards the entrance, “My apologies, age before beauty, then again with your delicate bone structure perhaps you would account for both.”

Tim freezes. Is Damian...flirting with him? He shakes his head, nah. Headgames must be another thing the boy’s gained from his crazy family tree.  Lately, or not lately, it’s been a gradual thing really, Damian and Tim have done more missions together.

“For efficiency sake.” Damina justifies. As the two of them all a frightening team when they apply their talents together.

Tim skill in logic and ability to place the clues in interesting ways, Damian’s assassin training that makes him a martial arts vistoso. Few enemies can best them when they fight together.

But something's off. Tim can’t nail down the thought with proof yet but…

“Timothy?” He jerks towards at Damian. “Timothy it is time we made our way to the burrows.”

“Timothy? What happened to Drake?”

Oh my dear. It that a slight blush Tim recognizes on Damian’s face? “I have realized that it might be considered rude to refer to you in that manner. After all, you do not call me Al Ghul, do you?”

This is true. “I suppose.”

But later, Tim realizes much later to his faulty skills as a detective, Damian still says Grayson, Todd and Brown with the other members of the family.

Like  “Timothy, I’ve brought us some rations. Just because we are reduced to wait for this scum to leave his pithole does not mean we must do it in discomfort.” It’s just a sandwich. But it’s one from one of Tim’s favorite cafes. Tim doesn’t know what to think of that.

Damian’s grown into his father’s monstrous bulk. Still shy of B’s height and an inch or two below Jason yet still informidable. His wide shoulders and dark tan skin have earned him the title, “Sheik” by various gossip magazines.

Not that Tim really pays attention to that sort of stuff.

Nor doesn’t he pretend not to know of how they dub them, “Fire and Ice.” whenever they endure an event together.

"What's going on?" Tim asks bemused. Damian and Kon stand off in the commons area. Kon with his arms crossed in front of his chest, while Damian casually tosses a batarang up and down with one hand. Kon is definitely taller, but there's something deadly in Damian's stance. Like a snake coiled to strike.

"Pissing contest." Cassie says  gleefully, grabbing a fist of popcorn before shoving the bag at Tim. "They've been at it for 14 minutes now and it's glorious."

Suck, diplomacy with the Titans and Dami has always been iffy. Once you attack their 'bird' you tend to go on their people-okay-to-drown-at-lunch list. It's a big list. Garth was excited to announce that Tim's list was currently the largest.

"Why didn't anyone get me?”

"Because it's about you." Bart hooks his elbow through Tim's and supports him, which is completely unnecessary, to limp and slouch on the couch. "The dude just showed up demanding to see you, that Bats needs your mad skills with forensics and crap but Kon thinks, it'd be nice if you were off crutches before getting broken again you know?"

"I'm not broken."

"Your leg begs to differ." Raven materializes beside him from the shadows. She really should teach Tim how to do that, he's just saying. Raven digs into the popcorn bag still in Tim's possession to get a satisfying crunch. "If I recall correctly, you shouldn't even be out of bed."

Damian whips his head to their direction, "Timothy is this true?

Crap. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Says the idiot whose tibia is in three pieces.” Kon grumbles straightening his back to make himself even more imposing to the intruder, but Damian’s eyes are glued on a different target. He drops the posturing act to walk to Tim and falls to a knee in front of him. Carefully, he lifts the neon pink cast, ‘cause real men wear pink, that’s littered with inappropriate comments from his team.

“Yes, that does seem to fit into the category of a ‘big deal’ Timothy.” He chides running his fingers over the names on Tim’s calf.

Tim bristles. “It does not. Besides, even benched, grown-up vigilante here, I can still do casefiles and computer work just fine, what does B need?”

“Hmmm, my father needs another to look over a heist note the Riddler is fond of making. Yet perhaps I should turn to different source.” Damian looks around and fishes for a marker on the coffee table. He gently lifts the limb to rest on his thigh, begins to write.  “Maybe one that will allow himself to heal properly.”

“Damian. Al Ghul. Wayne.” Where’s his crutches? He’s going to beat this twerp over the head. Give him something else that’s broken to worry about. Bart buries his face into Tim’s shoulder to muffle his snickers. It doesn’t do much. 

Dami finishes adding to the mess of ink before nodding to himself. “I’ve decided. I’ll give you the datapad after you gain an hour of rest.” He says staring up at Tim without compromise.

“What? No.”

“Or I’ll put Alfred on the com and inform him of your unfortunate situation.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Only if you consider it to be so.” Why yes Tim considers it to be so. Motherhen Alfred is a terrible nightmare to behold. No one can escape his clutches once he knows a Bat is harmed, doesn’t matter how old you are or where you are, he will find you. He will drown you in blankets, food and sedatives. And he has full access to the Tower. Garth is very fond of his vegetarian alfredo pizza.

“He’s got you there, Red.” Kon calls out, hands on his hips with a smug expression. The tension that once electrified the room is gone, but Tim almost misses it. Then maybe everyone in the room would stop ganging up on him.

“Do we agree or disagree?” Damian presses.

“We agree that this is shameless blackmail and I hate you.” Tim hisses out.

Damian’s voice turns warm and satisfied. “Good. Now let’s get you back into bed.”  He then worms his hands under Tim’s knees and lower back and lifts. Like Tim weighs nothing at all.

“I have crutches. Like right there. Cassie get my crutches.”

“Nope. Red’s room is on the top floor, by the way.” She has a hand pressed to her mouth, grinning like a loon. As if the best sight she’s seen all day is Tim carried like a princess. Then where’s his tiara, dammit?

“Thank you.” Damian gives a curt bob of his head and turns to go with the fussy man. The last thing the team sees is the elegant black scrawl on their Rob’s cast.

Please protect this foolish treasure - Damian

Yeah, maybe the Titans can trust their bird in these hands….just maybe.

It all comes to a head during a mission, they almost get caught in an explosion. Why can’t clowns stay away from fire? And Damian had tackled him to the ground and covered him against the flare of heat that licked their backs.

In the rubble, Damian lifts himself to stop crushing the smaller man. Their faces are close, Tim notes with his heart in his throat. They breath the same air and Damian's eyes flicker to his lips. To the inch barely separating them, all he’d would have to do is drop his head...just a little for them to meet.

“Damian?” The boy, no man in question drags his gaze to meet Tim's stare.

“Tell me to stop.” And slowly, achingly, he closes the distance between them. Tim can't move. Doesn't dare to as Damian kisses him gently. Almost excruciatingly so. It's a barely a press, so hesitant though it lasts for several long seconds...or years, Tim can't tell. Damian doesn't close his eyes the entire time and Tim is hypnotized, can't break the hold of that connection even when Damian reluctantly pulls back.

His brow furrows and it's a ridiculously adorable look on the oversized teen. “You did not tell me to stop.” He says confused.

“I didn't tell you stop period.” That earns Tim a cracked smile. It's so cute, Tim can't help but lean up to peck him square on the mouth. When Damian jerks to the side in surprise, He snorts and breaks into laughter.

His arms slowly squeezed around Tim’s waist, as if in disbelief that he was there in Damian’s lap. It was tentative, but definitely a conscious action.  Then reluctantly Damian unraveled his grip and cradled Tim’s hips in his palms. The fire blazed from yards away but the heat that races up Tim’s spine isn’t coming from the destruction. Then with barely an effort he lifted Tim straight up to place him back on his feet.

It’s casual, smooth and Tim hates to admit it...impressive.

“Are you alright, Timothy?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“A little singed, nothing more.”

“Okay, I have to know. Have you flirting been with me this entire time?” Tim asks blunt as a rock.

“Oh good.” Damian ducks his head away from the other vigilante, as if he’s too embarrassed to look at him. “I was becoming concerned that you would never notice my advances.”

A raspy voice buzzes in from the com, “Yeah, we thought the world would end first.”

“Jason if you ruin Dami’s confession, I will cut you.”  Dick hisses and Tim decides that the rest of this conversation is better done off grid.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere where there isn’t a raging firestorm or snooping eavesdroppers around.”

“Indeed.” Damian’s agrees warmly and when he wraps his arm gently around Tim, smiling down at him like that? Well, Tim finds that he doesn’t mind the height difference anymore.

Not at all.

[multifandom-hoes]

Everything’s Going to be Fine

Member: JiMin // BTS

Main Plot: They have to get the money before their family can suffer.

A/N: @kawaii-hedgehog look at me coming back with another one of your plots, ey, ey?

Words: 2.3k

/ SeokJin // YoonGi // HoSeok // NamJoon // JiMin // TaeHyung // JeongGuk /

When she came to be the first thing that she noticed was the horrible throb at the back of her head. The second was the fact that it was not her eyes fault for being unable to see around her, but some kind of clothing that was thrown over her head.

She felt panic rise at the pit of her stomach, then, her eyes watering at the implications of her tied wrists and blindfolded eyes. However, what was even more terrifying was the throb that now spread all over her skull, pounding at her temples as if with a hammer, trying to crack her bones.

She sobbed, and heard shuffling of feet from somewhere, which made her sob even more, shoulders trembling and voice shaking as she spoke, “Help me…” she begged, and then begged some more, but there was no answer from the person whose feet were shuffling.

It dawned on her then; was this the person who kept her tied up and blinded? She shook her head then, the pain leaving her limp in the uncomfortable chair with a yelp escaping her mouth. She was in so much pain. “Don’t move too much, you’re gonna get yourself killed.” The person finally spoke, the voice light but manly, sweet but grave. It was such a contradiction on itself that she fell quiet, unable to produce a retort.

The steps came closer, and soon the cloth over her head was lifted, yet she was still blinded, this time from the light of the room. As soon as her eyes settled to a bearable level where she could look up without her eyes running wet from her sockets, she recoiled at the man in front of her.

His hair was a rusty brown mess atop his head, brows etched close to each other on his smooth forehead, strong and manly. Eyes were made of steel, she said to self, so dull yet powerful, yet still coloured a pretty molten-caramel brown. Lips, so big and fluffy, were gnawed on by the set of pearly white teeth. He was perfect, but so very stern.

She shook her head, and instead looked up at him with determination. She wanted to speak, but nothing coherent came to mind. Her wrists still struggled against her restraints, but her mind was purely empty. “Who… Am I?” the previous ache in her skull had now faded into a dull throb, and she swung her body back into the chair’s backrest. “Who… Are you?”

His eyes trembled, going from one side of her face to the other, his face paled, ever so slightly, but a weird expression soon settled over his features. “I’m… Park JiMin. Remember me?” he spoke quietly, as if timidly, testing out the waters.

“Who?” she spoke, her head titling.

The man, Park JiMin, took a step closer and towards her, resting his- what she realized to be- small but warm hands over her shoulders, staring right into the depth of her eyes. “Your boyfriend.” He had said, a distressed look over his otherwise dull face.

“Boy… Friend?”

It has been close to a month now, her living in his cozy apartment for a cheap rental price, eating close to nothing but noodles day in and day out, seeing her supposed boyfriend only scarcely as he was working, saying it was for her sake and then sending her that little smile full of nothing but pain.

Her heart was reaching out to him, and yet she still trembled when night-time fell and she was left alone in the unknown apartment with not an ounce of her memories back.

She knew nothing of herself, of JiMin, and of life. Like a little naïve child simply relying on the broken man by the name of Park JiMin. She wasn’t sure whether she was going to be able to continue such a lifestyle.

Often times she wondered whether her boyfriend would have an easier time without her; whether she should run away and leave him be to his own devices, seeing as he spent little to no time with her anyway. He won’t miss me, she often thought, soothing her pained heart.

As she woke up with that cloth over her eyes, she knew nothing of JiMin, but during this month spent with him, cooking for him whatever he had in his fridge, she felt out to him, like a mother to her child- to the point where she truly believed she learned to love him all over again, as she did before she lost her memories.

Leaving him was not an option, not then, not now. She learned to love his presence and little smiles that truly reached his eyes- though those were rare.

His body was flexible, toned and with great proportions, he reminded himself as a cocky grin adorned his face once again, the light shining down on him and hiding the faces of his spectators. The sweat glittered from his body like a bead of prettiest jewels, muscles flexing with each twist of his naked limbs.

You’re a dancer, JiMin, he calmed his racing heart, and this is your audience. Though his job had not been a particularly nice option for a talented man such as him, it paid well and he had needed the money to pay off a part of his debts to a group of boys that took him in. He needed it.

He wasn’t forced to take on this… Occupation, either. It was all his own free will. Needless to say, his dignity was shredded and his self-esteem had disappeared, but at least his debt had been paid. And yet he continued working in that God forsaken place. Selling his body for a little bit of dirty money.

He was tied there, bound by chains heavier than life- it was his personal hell that he so willingly decided to enter- had he known previously that the underworld doesn’t let go of its victims, he would off had laid his own head before entering the place. It was too late for that now.

So, he dragged his tired body home, his head empty, lip busted from some old geezer punching him square in the face for `seducing his wife`. Fuck them all to hell, anyway.

Opening the doors, he fell to his knees, head clutched in his hands as the sleek of warm tears slid down his bruised face. A string of broken curses escaped his lips and he slammed his forehead into the carpeted ground, unable to find rest or even bring himself enough pain to forget about himself.

“JiMin?” a female voice asked, the emotion within being fear and concern. He lifted his eyes up, then, and saw her- his tickets into the clean world without so much as selling himself. Her- his saviour. “Is everything okay?” she took a step closer, then another, and another, and she stood in front of him, her hand on his spine, rubbing up and down, trying to soothe him while her own voice shook with distress.

He still did not have a notion as to why he said he was her boyfriend. Even up till now. But in a way, he was glad he said that. She was spared of the torture from his gang and he got himself a personal maid. No, don’t say that, he scolded himself, looking at her beautiful form through his wet lashes. “Why are you still up?” his groggy voice asked, not an ounce of amusement as he saw her tired eyes.

“Why are you crying?” she whispered back, her hands continuing to rub his back as if consoling a lost puppy. Though he was quick to admit her warmth felt good, he also felt like an absolute trash.

Here she was, a woman whom he abducted in exchange for money, lost her memory because of the hit to the skull that he inflicted, showing him nothing more but good will and compassion. Meanwhile he took it in and fed her lies. Nothing more but cruel, cold lies. He felt like crying all over again.

She laid beside him, singing songs from her childhood, or at least she thought they were, trying to soothe his sobbing, patting at JiMin’s puffy cheeks swollen by his tears. He told her why he cried, alas while yelling and laughing like a mad-man, and she swore she nearly burst out crying and wailing herself. He sold his body daily while she was asleep, comfortable in his apartment to which he paid with his own body.

Her eyes were red as she hugged him then, his body thrashing against her own as she took all of it in, slowly leading him to the bedroom and mingling her hands into his hair.

Though wrecked by emotion of anger and demise, the man fell asleep in her arms, and she was left alone to mend her own heart in his stead. That early morning was a cruel one, wrecking her not only emotionally, but also psychologically, her head pounding in pain as memory after memory was returning in a bright flash of pain.

Park JiMin was no boyfriend of her, and the songs she sung him were indeed of her childhood, previously sang by her mother. She was kidnapped, most likely for ransom, though she also knew it would off have been useless- her father was a strict man, and she was certain there was no love in his heart.

He fed her lies over and over again, and she believed them like the naïve heroine that she was- a stupid, little, lost girl.

Struggling out of the unfamiliar man’s iron grip over her waist, she paddled to the kitchen, leaning over the window sill and staring at the rising sun while the tears spilled from her eyes. So, what am I going to do now? She asked of herself, quietly dabbing at her cheeks with the heels of her hands.

Sure, JiMin had been a savage thug and a nobody to her- normally, she should off have been calling the police right about now, but he was the man who provided her a roof and food, so from this point, she should be kissing his feet.

What about what her heart told her to do, though? Because certainly that little ball of sunshine, note the sarcasm, did not want her to leave and instead stay with the broken man, help him feel human again, get his dignity back- get his life back.

She would stay, if not for him then for her own selfish little heart.

“My memories are back, you know?” she spoke silently after he woke up, casting her eyes down so to avoid the startled glance he gave her. “I know you’re not my boyfriend- nothing close to it, just a thug.”

“So what, you gonna leave me now?” he spoke casually, or at least tried to, digging into his bowl of something that was supposed to serve as late breakfast.

“Would you let me? Wouldn’t be afraid of me going to the police and telling on you and your little gang of criminals?” she challenged him back, her eyes narrowing as she took a seat opposite of him.

His spoon clattered and he leaned back in his seat before saying, “If you’d so desperately want to escape, you’d long have called the police- while I was sleeping, if you want precision.”

“You’re right…” she muttered, nodding her head slowly.

“So? What’re you going to do now that you have your memories?” his eyes narrowed, spoon forgotten as he spoke. “Go back home to your daddy? Just to your information, but we ambushed you for exchange in money. As you know, there was no word from him since.”

“So you kept me with you and hoped that I won’t regain my memories and have a happy life with you instead?” she tried, voice soft but eyes sharp, trying to grasp any emotion on his shard face.

He sputtered then, eyes wide and mouth agape. “What?”

“You said so yourself, no? You took me for ransom. There was not a word from my father. You could off have let me go a month ago, but yet here I am. Lied to that you were my boyfriend. Obviously, you tried to do something, yet I’m not sure what.”

He kept quiet for a while, staring at her attentively, before shaking his head as if deciding whatever he was about to say was not worth the effort and instead starting to eat his breakfast all over again.

“So can I stay?” in answer he nodded his head absent-mindedly to which she smiled big. “But, we’re not a couple- friends. And as your loyal friend I want to start a campaign- stop JiMin from going through pain. Meaning, we will now go out, or after you eat breakfast, and look for a job, or two actually. You will quit your current place, and if you don’t I will go there and start world war three if necessary. I mean it, so be serious.”

She pretended that everything was fine, that the man in front of her was really only a friend of hers, that her heart did not ache from the thought of her father abandoning her. That she did not shake from the fact that the man she learned to love had actually kidnapped her. She pretended to be strong, but really, she was far from it.

So therefore, she decided to abandon her memories completely. Start her life anew. Everything was going to be fine for her. Everything was going to be fine for JiMin. They were going to be fine. They’re going to be normal.

[kyuu-rereads-umineko]

Ep6, Chapter 2 (Part 2)

In which Battler gets a rude awakening, and Ange and Ikuko drop anvils on our heads.

When we last left off, Battler was making a beeline towards... Um, Meta-Kuwadorian, I guess? To meet with Beato.

hoooo god. Kumasawa is there, and greets him with, “Welcome, Master. Beatrice-sama is waiting for you. This way, please...”

The narrative is pretty obviously set up to parallel Battler/Beato with Kinzo/Kuwa-Beato, I’m aware of that, but oh god is Kumasawa’s greeting loaded as hell in hindsight.

“This place was a villa set aside for Beatrice’s use. It was a sacred site for her only, built so that she could spend her days without being affected by the outside world.”

Battler reflects on how glad he is that Beato was revived and “everything’s okay,” and I’m actually starting to feel a bit nauseous here good lord

“The dining hall [...] existed so that they could enjoy some black tea while discussing the truth, now that he had finally reached all of it.” As much as the Kinzo parallel throughout this scene is making me sick, the prospect of Beato and Battler talking things over once he figures things out is an appealing one.

oh goooooooooooood. Battler asks how Beato’s doing (and if she’s the “same as usual,” critically), and Kumasawa replies, “Oh yes, she is in very high spirits now. She has been waiting for you all this time, Master.” She doesn’t actually say anything to suggest Beato’s different somehow...

I think I need to adjust my thinking here a bit. On a logical level, I was fully aware of how Genji, Kumasawa, and Nanjo had a hand in Kinzo’s treatment of Kuwa-Beato (and how much of a role they played in Yasu’s downward spiral), but on an emotional level, I don’t think it really sank in until now, assuming this is indicative of how they responded to the situation in the real world as well.

I don’t know why this is making me feel so strongly now of all times, given that I’ve been well aware for a long time that everyone on the island had their own part to play in bringing about the tragedy, but... Eugh. I’ll be damned if Kumasawa’s behaviour here isn’t leaving a horrid taste in my mouth for whatever reason.

Anyways. Battler enters the dining hall, to find Beato... who bows to him. uh oh

She thanks him for “giving me this form,” and Battler, being Battler, breaks down into tears. okay who am i kidding i 100% teared up the first time i read this scene because i was relieved to see she was back

Poor Battler’s so caught up in his own emotions he doesn’t even realize at first that Beato’s demure behaviour isn’t an act she’s putting on...

He apologizes to her, and she replies that he has nothing to apologize for, calling him “Father” in the process. The music fades out almost immediately. hoo boy

“Beatrice was born for your sake, Father.” In hindsight, the way Ep6 handles this concept - that Beato exists “for Battler” - is something I feel very meh about. Thinking back on it in general, I suppose Ep6 is probably one of my least favourite episodes of the bunch - Erika feels like she’s overstayed her welcome (barring her death at the end, that scene was amazing and no not just because she died), the attempt at making her sympathetic falls flat on its face, the whole Greek Chorus thing with Featherine and Ange is kinda... weird (I do enjoy it, but something about it feels very strange, even beyond the whole meta in your meta in your meta shenanigans), Ep7 goes on to handle the question of “who does Beato exist for, if anyone,” much more gracefully than this (It’s still interesting to see the different halfs of Beato playing off each other, and I think it’s an important clue as to the nature of Beato as we know her and as a facet of Yasu, but it just doesn’t really feel... “right,” to me?), and to top it off, it goes on and on. I felt like Ep5 was stretching it with just the first twilight plus Hideyoshi as far as murders went, but Ep6 doesn’t even get past the first twilight. I mean, sure, a lot of the plot’s taking place in the Meta-World now, but still - seeing as Battler spends like 60% of the episode in a coma, it doesn’t really work for me. 

BOY I’M GETTING SIDETRACKED A LOT HUH

Anyways! Battler asks Beato to stop being so polite and to talk how she normally does, and she’s completely clueless... Battler changes the topic to the food on the table, she replies that she wanted to prepare a “modest reward” for him completing the 6th game, and... Kumasawa interjects, still without explaining the situation to Battler. Sh-she does actually know what’s going on here, what Battler was expecting, right...?

Battler confronts her, and she gets flustered. Beato, meanwhile, gets ready to pop open a bottle of champagne, saying, “In the hopes that you will prove victorious over your longtime rival, Furudo Erika...” and Battler promptly loses it, scattering things everywhere. “Who... are you...?”

Oooh. I’d forgotten that when Beato replies, she uses “watashi” instead of “warawa”. Not that it doesn’t make sense, or that it’s a surprise, but it’s interesting in hindsight, given that the use of “watashi” in Ep4′s Tea Party was one of the biggest clues in the first half of the series to Yasu’s existence.

At any rate, when she repeats that she was “born for Battler’s sake,” he snaps and shouts at Genji (in another layer of meta? man i don’t even know anymore) to explain what’s going on. When Genji informs him that she truly is Beato, he states that she’s “totally wrong, a fake.” O-ouch...

It’s quite easy to read Battler’s denial here as similar to Kinzo’s (likely) reaction to Kuwa-Beato in the real world... which, granted, is the point, but still!

Again, for some reason (maybe her closeness to Yasu while she was a servant? shruuug), Kumasawa’s responses to Battler rub me the wrong way a lot more than Genji’s do, saying that Beato “was only born a short while ago” and that it’d “be cruel to expect her to act as she once did so soon.”

“The old Beatrice-sama had lived for a thousand years... This Beatrice-sama, on the other hand, was only born a short while ago...! If she appears to be a different person, well, that just can’t be helped...!”

Battler asks if that means he has to wait a thousand years for her to become the same Beato we all know and love, and Kumasawa says that someone’s personality is determined by more than just their birth. Cut to Ange and Tohya!

“Even if you had two of the exact same person, they could change enormously depending on their upbringing.” dot dot dot

“Even though they might be the same human to start with, their upbringing could change them so much they effectively become two different people.” dot dot dot

Ooh, I’d forgotten that this line is dropped so earlier - Tohya/Ikuko makes a comment about how the term “person” relates to “personalities,” and Ange thinks, “If a personality is what makes a person a person in our eyes, you could probably say that a second personality represents a different person entirely, even if it inhabits the same flesh body.”

In hindsight, this line is something else I feel kinda lukewarm about. I mean, it’s a pretty obvious “HEY READERS ARE YOU LISTENING,” thing, but good grief is it ever beating you over the head with the whole “SHANNON AND KANON ARE THE SAME PERSON” thing. Not very subtle at all, really...

“...It seems you’re quite a skilled reader... For most of my readers, it would be necessary to spend several hundred pages to explain how a single person can become different people depending on their upbringing and time.” LOL

And Ange fires back with, “Don’t underestimate your readers. We aren’t just reading. We read... and we think.” I wonder if we’re seeing a bit of Ryukishi’s internal frustration surfacing here?

That’s not a jab at him, for the record. Given Umineko’s underlying theme of making an effort to think about other people and understand them, I’d be frustrated to have readers dismissing it as impossible or what-have-you as well.

“If I make a hundred people read it, only 90 people will actually be able to. However, only 50 will actually understand what it means. And not even 20 will actually think beyond that... And all I ask is that they think it over a bit.” Hmm. Interesting echo on Yasu’s desires, huh... That even if a thousand people should read her tale, as long as just one person understands, that’s all she wants...

Ange observes that Ikuko’s forgery has the same “scent” as the message bottles, which is likely why the Witch Hunters became so interested in her to begin with. Well, that makes sense, given that her forgeries were written by someone who was actually there!

“...Why does her tale have the same scent as Beatrice’s, I wonder...? Is it because... she actually has reached the truth, as she claims? Does this mean that anyone who knows the truth could create an endless number of message bottles? Is that what the catbox world is like...?”

With Ange’s determination to find “a hint of the truth from within this story” so she can bring an end to the catbox, we cut back to Battler... showing the 6th game to a Beato piece.

After having a very one-sided conversation, he snaps again. Poor guy...

“You created many kinds of furniture, as well as several tales in the past... When I saw that, I was sure... you were having a great time doing it, but that’s wrong. You were... unbelievably lonely.” Oh, Yasu...

Battler acknowledges that chick!Beato is alive, and the Beatrice he knew as she was a thousand years ago, but the fact that she looks identical to Beato is what causes him grief. While there’s no doubt that Battler’s arc in Ep6 is very deliberately mirroring Kinzo’s arc with Bice’s death and Kuwadorian Beatrice, I feel like there’s a critical difference starting to surface here - where Kinzo was unable to emotionally accept that Kuwa-Beato was actually his daughter, until after it was too late for him to try atoning for his sins (whether or not he actually could is up for debate, but), Battler eventually does, at least outwardly. Even when chick!Beato regains her memories, he still seems to accept that the Beato he knew is gone, as shown in the funeral at the start of Ep7.

I suppose whether or not that’s a good thing, given that he still treats chick!Beato exactly the same as the old Beato come Ep8, is up in the air, but...