#for now at least i need to focus on re-rendering this thing and then giving my wrists a long easy rest ksdfjhgl

[miodiodavinci]

was anyone going to tell me that kyo's dad followed me on twitter and gave a shout-out to some of my works

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 9: Hesitancy

From the Beginning,  Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Changing the chapter naming scheme; my brain can't handle two-word summaries anymore. This one is a lil short but very soft and I promise relationship progress is made. As always, I hope you love it. <3

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary:  “Are you prepared for this to go south?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

“Why would it?”

Words: 1962

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

There was no way in hell you could go into work today.

You didn’t actually have a choice, which is why you’d driven there. But you simply couldn’t command your feet to walk you into that office, towards the teams’ inquisitive stares and deductive skills that were closer to mind-reading than you were entirely comfortable with. You’d adjusted and re-adjusted your lipgloss several times over in the mirror, brushed through your hair, and even though you knew there was no way the team could know what happened 20 minutes ago in the park, you felt like you might as well have been wearing a neon sign that said “Aaron Hotchner and I Just Kissed (On the Lips).”

So you were holed up in the parking garage of the FBI in your piece of shit 2007 Toyota Camry. Stalling.

You sighed when you felt your phone buzz, knowing what the notification was. You were only seven minutes late, but seven minutes was eight too many in Hotch’s book. You checked the message.

Hotch: Please come inside.

So he knew you were hiding out, then. You sighed and slammed the car door, trudging up the stairwell and into the building.

Exiting the elevator to your floor, you paused outside of the frosted glass doors leading to the BAU and tried to still your breathing. Despite Hotch’s apparent instant regret and quick departure occupying the forefront of your mind, you still couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect that kiss had been. The part of you that wasn’t filled with panic about his reaction was squealing like a little kid at the confirmation that holy shit, he liked you too. You took a deep breath, summoned every ounce of professionalism and composure you could muster, and walked in.

You made it less than halfway to your desk.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa; don’t just walk in here like I’m gonna let that slide.” Morgan swung his legs off his desk and stood up in front of you. “Every day you get in at least ten minutes early and now you’re walking in late looking like you got something to hide. Spill it.”

Your open-mouthed gaping by way of response was blissfully interrupted by Hotch calling your name from the balcony overlooking the bullpen.

“Garcia needs your help finishing up reports. Meet her in her office.”

You shrugged to Morgan. “Duty calls. Sorry!”

“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy!” he called after you as you scampered towards the safety of Garcia’s tech lair.

You knocked on her door, and she greeted you with her standard excess of enthusiasm.

“Come in! I’m just going through my keylogs for the past few cases and filling out reports of every database I had to access less-than-legally.” She shot you an evil grin. “Which is a lot. You can help me by typing up the information into the actual reports on your computer.”

Just happy to be away from the teams’ prying eyes, especially a certain someone’s, you nodded. “Let’s do it.”

***

Not half an hour had passed when Garcia swiveled towards you in her chair, clutching her pink feathered pen with a knowing glint in her eyes. “So. Tell me.”

“What?” you asked, trying to hide your shock with feigned innocence.

“Oh, honey, come on. I may not be a profiler, but I’ve picked up a couple things throughout the years. And I can tell something’s up.”

“God damn it,” you groaned and laid back in your chair. “I thought this was a no-profiling zone.”

She smiled even wider, if that was possible. “It is. But for you, my dear, I have made an exception.”

“Did Morgan put you up to this?”

“He may have possibly texted me telling me that you were late this morning.”

You rolled your eyes.

“But you’re never late! Even I know that! So -” she scooted closer and lowered her voice conspiratorially, “- spill.”

Sighing, you weighed your options. The last thing you wanted to do was create drama and jeopardize your position, much less Hotch’s reputation, but you were itching to tell someone - if only to get their opinion on the matter. And it wasn’t as if you had anyone else to talk to…

“Fine!”

Garcia rapidly motioned her hands to signify you to continue.

“But you can’t tell anybody, okay? I’m serious, Penelope.”

“Not even-”

“Especially not Morgan.”

She pouted but reluctantly agreed, and you took a deep breath and told her everything.

How you’d developed an innocent crush at first, how it had spiraled out of control, how you’d visited his apartment and he’d told you about his past, and finally, how he’d kissed you in the park just that morning. You stopped, awaiting her reaction, but she was uncharacteristically silent.

“...Garcia?”

She cleared her throat and leaned forward. “I’m sorry, are we talking about Aaron Hotchner, like Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, like boss man Aaron Hotchner? Mr. Grumpy? Never smiles, always wears a suit, carries the weight of the world on his sculpted shoulders?”

You glared, waiting for her to finish.

“I’m sorry,” she giggled, “It’s just -” her voice softened, “- in the whole time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him act like that. Bring someone coffee, breakfast, open up to them. The whole bit.”

Your heart fluttered more than you’d like to admit at that.

“Listen,” she continued, “I don’t have to tell you that life has not been kind to that man. And I’m not gonna give you the stupid speech about dating an older man or dating your boss, because I don’t give a shit. But I will tell you - he’s been through enough. So if this isn’t what you want, back out now.”

Her tone was kind, but the seriousness of her message was evident. You nodded in understanding.

“I get it, but I don’t think he’s the one that’s gonna end up getting hurt here.”

“Well, hopefully nobody will get hurt and you’ll both ride off into the sunset together. But you gotta talk to him first.” She ignored your pained groan. “I’m serious! Nothing good is going to come out of you guys dancing around this. People act really stupid when they’re pretending they’re not in love with each other.”

Cocking your eyebrow, you shot back, “Kinda like you and Morgan?”

She flushed scarlet and waggled her ostentatious pen in your direction. “Touché.”

***

The thought of being emotionally vulnerable to Hotch made you more nauseous than you’d like to admit, but the more you mulled over it, the more you realized Garcia was right. Hotch knew how you felt - your fervent response to the kiss had made that abundantly clear - so what did you have to lose, really?

(Besides your career and the respect of your boss, but you tried not to consider that possibility).

He’d kissed you, you reminded yourself as you tried to focus on reports.

He cares about you, you recited like a mantra as you waited for the workday to end.

He’s twice your age and a widower with a dead kid and your Unit Chief, you panicked in the bathroom as you avoided the knowing eyes of the rest of the team.

Still, 6 pm limped in eventually and you bid everyone a good night from your desk as they filtered out. Hotch, unsurprisingly, was not among them. You planned to wait until you two were alone in the office so you could approach him undisturbed.

What you didn’t expect was just how late he worked - it was nearly 9 by the time he locked up his office, briefcase in hand, and turned to see you still sitting at your desk.

“Oh,” he said. You tried to decipher the tone of the syllable - surprised? Pleased? Indifferent? But came up short.

“I thought we could talk,” you offer cautiously.

“About wha-” he began, then seemed to think better of pretending he didn’t know and sighed. “You’re right. We should.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it. “I wanted to apologize for my actions this morning. I took advantage of a situation where you felt comfortable spending time with me outside of the office, and I should have never let it get that far. If you want to speak to Strauss about transferring units, I completely understand.”

You gaped at him. Was it truly possible for a man this astute, this in-tune with human behavior, to be this stupid?  

“Is that what you think this is?” you asked, practically launching yourself out of your seat from the sheer force of your bewilderment. “You think you took advantage of me? That I just went along with it because you’re my boss or something?”

The barely concealed shame in his eyes answered not only that question, but also the one you’d asked yourself beforehand - no, Hotch wasn’t stupid. He was broken. He was filled with so much self-hatred that the only explanation he could concoct as to why you were spending so much time with him was the one where you were trying to avoid offending your creepy, older boss. The realization filled you with such heartbreak that you nearly choked on your next words.

“Aaron,” you started, and it was strange how well a name you’d never before dared to say fit in your mouth, “I’ve -”

Don’t say loved.

“- liked you since that case in San Diego. I don’t know how you haven’t figured that out, considering the fact that I wake up an hour early every morning - I hate mornings, by the way - to get coffee with you. But I like you. And I know for a fact you feel the same way, so don’t try to pretend like you did after the bar.”

The number of times Hotch had been rendered speechless in his lifetime could be counted on one hand, and this made the list. You waited for him to respond, and he did, finally, in the most muted voice you’d ever heard him use.

“It isn’t right.”

“Please,” you implored, taking a step closer to him. “Don’t do that. You’re not going to talk me out of this, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to talk yourself out of it too.”

“I’m your Unit Chief,” he said, his voice regaining the power that usually accompanied that statement, “and I’m old enough to be your father.”

“And I’m an adult fully capable of making her own decisions,” you responded.

“The practicalities; they’d be a mess. Informing the Bureau, the team…”

“Would I have to quit my internship?” you asked, your only genuine hesitancy surrounding the situation.

“Well, no,” he shook his head slowly, “but we'd be subject to a much higher level of scrutiny.”

“I’m prepared to be scrutinized.”

“Are you prepared for this to go south?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

“Why would it?”

He didn’t say anything, but you could tell what he was thinking. A man like him, someone who carried more than a few lifetimes of trauma and guilt, wasn’t someone to get involved with on a whim - for both of your sakes. This was more so the concern, you suspected, than anything he’d already mentioned.

“I know what I’m getting into, Hotch. I’m not expecting this to be easy.”

“Well, I -” he shifted uncomfortably, more visibly nervous than you’d ever seen him. “Can I least give you time to think about it?”

“Doubt I’ll be able to think about anything else,” you teased, and, with a sudden surge of courage, you stepped forward on your tiptoes to plant a feather-light kiss on his cheek.

The flush that spread up his neck was, decidedly, the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

Taglist: @stop-drop-and-drumroll @criminalmindzjunkie @xoprincessmel @cevanswhre @addie5264 (Message me if you want to be added!)

[terrm9]

Cieli di Toscana

Words count: 1 600

Author’s note: I love Italy and Italian language, I miss hearing it, I miss eating gelato and the sea and I like Bocelli. That’s it, that’s all you need to know to understand this fluffy useless piece. Also, I tried to translate that one line the best I can, but my Italian is mediocre at best, so if someone from Italy sees it - please, feel free to correct my translation and don’t hate me if I got it absolutely wrong.

Takes place some weeks after the OHSY Finale.

It was raining heavily as Chiara stepped into Ethan’s car, making her sigh. 

“This is absolutely terrible weather for a road trip,” she rolled her eyes dramatically, earning an honest chuckle from Ethan.

They weren’t going on a road trip. They were invited to attend a conference in New York and as much as Ethan hated those, the vision of three whole days with Chiara, out of reach of the chaos that’s been erupting in Boston ever since Edenbrook’s closing and its subsequent grand re-opening, was enough for him to make a decision to go.

The excruciating rate of their lives in those past few months has also been reason why Ethan decided to drive for four hours to New York. Four hours on their way back and another four on their way back, eight full hours of the two of them being next to each other without anyone else’s presence, with nothing better to do than to simply be together. Hell, even if Chiara decided to just sleep the whole time, those eight hours of her peaceful sleep would be worth the time spent in a car.

“Okay, if you don’t want to start with my playlist,” Chiara waved indefinitely with her phone in the hand, “you better have something else than an audio book to listen to.”

To be absolutely honest, Ethan wouldn’t mind listening to her playlist if that would serve her best, however he gestured towards the dashboard on Chiara’s side of a car.

“There should be some old CD’s in there.”

Opening a storage space of the dashboard, Chiara raised her eyebrow at him and exclaimed: “Some old what? Have you ever heard of the possibility of connecting your phone to the radio?”

Ethan resisted his urge to pinch the bridge of his nose as he was in the middle of overtaking a truck. He knew what was coming and that he didn’t dispose of any power that could stop it.

“I remember the times when the only way to listen to something of your choice in a car was to use a CD. I said they were old.”

Chiara rolled her eyes, not even trying to hide the smirk that found its way onto her face. Of course he would remember that.

“Remind me again, which dinosaur was your favorite? You know, since you were lucky enough to live among them.”

“This joke is getting old.”

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, knowing that they would backfire terribly.

“Yes, and so are you,” Chiara replied without missing a beat, her triumphant grin so wide Ethan was sure her cheeks hurt.

She grabbed the first CD, disapprovingly muttering under her breath.

“Vivaldi, Sinatra, Schoenberg, another Sinatra, Bocelli? I know this one,” she turned to him with Italian tenor’s album in her hand.

Ethan glanced at her quickly and nodded, encouraging her to develop her statement.

“My mom loves Bocelli, like really loves, loves. I remember when this particular album came out, I was maybe eight or nine at the time and my mom would listen to it on repeat, all day for two solid weeks,” she chuckled to herself at the memory and decided to put the CD into the radio, letting herself get lost in the memories of her childhood. “My dad was going crazy, always shutting himself in his study to listen to Queen or David Bowie. I would usually follow him and when I asked him why he didn’t tell her to turn it off, he’d just smile, shrug and say something about the music making my mom happy.”

Chiara listened to the first track, the melody all too familiar despite not hearing it for at least fifteen years. It sounded like her parents and home and love. The unconditional love her father always held for her mother, the one that grossed her out when she was a kid and caused her to have unfulfillable expectations from boys when she was a teenager.

She always dreamt of meeting a man that would love her that way, the man that would listen to the music he hated and she loved just because it would make her happy.

Shaking her head slightly to get herself out of the dangerous waters of her mind, the waters of nostalgy, the waters of infinite sadness she felt when thinking about her dad and her brother and how they would never get to decide if Ethan deserved their precious Chia, their light, she cleared her throat and read the title written on the plastic cover of the CD.

“Cieli di Toscana. Do you know what that means?” she turned to Ethan, thankful that the traffic kept him from noticing how lost she’s been for the last few minutes.  

"Skies of Tuscany," Ethan replied, not tearing his gaze of the road.

Chiara smiled to herself, her mind taking her back to all those documentaries she's seen about that part of Italy.

"They must be bewitching. Skies of Tuscany, I mean," she leaned further into her seat, the soft melody of second song making it easier to just imagine being there, far away from struggles Boston had in store for her. "Have you ever been to Tuscany?"

Ethan nodded, his sharp gaze melting slightly as his focus has been divided between driving and reminiscing his time in Europe.

"Once. I've been attending a conference with Naveen in Florence. I hardly had any spare time for sightseeing and yet the city managed to render me speechless as I walked its narrow streets."

Despite his efforts to find a better word for the city, all he could think about, back then in Florence, was how romantic its streets were. He could still remember how his whole body both loved and hated the atmosphere and how, when he surly muttered that it was city made for couples, Naveen would laugh and say: „If you are clever enough not to repeat my mistakes, you will come back with a woman of your life one day and belong to those scandalous couples.“

Another memory flashed in his mind, too bright and fresh for his liking. The one where, laying on the thick fabric of hazmat suit that protected his chest, tears streaming down her cheeks slowly, Chiara admitted that she regretted not travelling more while she could.

„I’ll take you there, when this chaos settles down and we’re allowed to take some time off. I’ll take you to Tuscany then,“ he said softly, quietly, pretending to concentrate on the road, which must have looked absolutely ridiculous as the highway was currently deserted. He hoped Chiara didn’t notice how flushed the back of his neck suddenly became.

She didn’t.

Chiara was biting her cheek, staring back and forth at Ethan and the road. Her own cheeks were colored in a bright pink color, the sincerity of Ethan’s words making her weak.

It wasn’t only the fact that he remembered about her dream of visiting Italy. It wasn’t even about the way he told her, that he would take her. It was the fact that planning his future with her came so naturally to him at this point, he didn’t even need to think about it.

Lost in her thoughts once again, Chiara didn’t notice how Ethan’s eyes widened few seconds into fourth song when the recognition hit him.

It was the song he liked the most, the song that he would listen quite often to back in the days when this album kept him company on the roads.

It was the song that, just like the city of Florence, used to make that small, almost negligible part of him wish that he had someone to share it with.

With the rain falling heavily on the windshield, Chiara couldn’t hear Ethan’s almost unaudible singing. She could’ve easily miss it, if she didn’t notice his lips moving.

„Are you singing?“ she asked, absoltutely shocked. She caught him humming various melodies sometimes, but never in her whole life would she believe to see Ethan Ramsey sing.

‚Scusi se mi innamorai in un istante di lei per

l'aria serena che ha.‘

„Absolutely not,“ he shook his head, the wave of heat on his neck becoming almost unbearable. „I am reciting the lyrics, at best.“

How cute, Chiara thought.

However, she didn’t want to ruin the moment and so instead of teasing him mercilessly, she asked: „What does it say? The part that you absolutely weren‘t singing.“

„Excuse me if I, in an instant, fall in love with her for the air of serenity she has. Very freely translated.“

„How do you know the lyrics so well?“

„I like the song.“

„Sure, liking the song is one thing, but knowing – and singing – the lyrics is another. Especially when the lyrics is as soft as this one. Is the song special to you?“

She tried to ask it as casually as she could, as if she was simply curious, when really, there was a hint of jealousy blooming in her chest.

Was the song special to him? Did he use to recite it to his first girlfriend trying to impress her?

The car stopped at the red light, giving Ethan a chance to finally look at the woman next to him fully.

„It is now,“ he nodded, smiling softly as he caressed her cheek with his thumb.

The expecting and so vulnerable green eyes staring back at him made his heart flutter. At this point, it was useless to pretened that he wasn’t utterly and terribly sappy when it came to her. Taking a deep breath, just before the red light turned to green, he whispered.

„The name of the song is Chiara.“

[quietlyimplode]

Whumptober2020 - Day 5 - Rescue

Tony/ Pepper + Clint/Nat

Day 1 - waking up restrained // Day 2 - kidnapped // Day 3 - manhandled // Day 4 - caged

“What if she’s not ok Tony?” Pepper says quietly. Pepper knows Natasha’s history more than most; disclosed to her through conversation and work. Tony only knows because he’s hacked all her files. Shield, the KGB, anything really he could get his hands on. He may know more about her history than she does. Not that he’ll ever tell her that. Natasha knows that he’s memorised all of her and somehow he’s not dead. Maybe it’s like having a witness; someone to see all your bad and all your scars and still treat you as human. Isn’t that all anyone wants?

“She’s always ok, Pep.” He says reassuringly. “She’s always ok,” but this time more to himself. Ending the call, he focuses on flying.

——-

The call comes through on his phone which, he chooses to ignore; he’s almost got it, he just needs to - if the damn thing won’t stop ringing. Sighing softly, Tony covers his ears and turns up the music outside. It’s rare for Clint to call him but he really hates answering the phone and does not want to hear what’s happening - not on his own terms at least. Let him leave a voice mail if it’s so urgent.

Continuing to focus on his build; Tony is blissful; for once competing priorities are at a low and he knows that he can dedicate his time to this, it’s something for him, and no one is going to-

“Tony?”

He feels his eyes roll to the back of his head. If he could, he would groan; but it’s Pepper and he respects her too much to tell her to go away. But he wants to; he really really wants to.

“Tony, it’s Clint.”

Pepper puts the phone on his table and puts it on speaker. Clint wastes no time.

“Natasha’s been kidnapped. She was taken off the roof of our hotel adjacent building. There was a struggle. I need your help. This is a secure line.”

Each sentence is like a blow.

He wants to ask Clint why he’s calling him. Why not go through the proper channels; though instinctively he knows why. He’s faster. He has way more of a chance of finding Natasha than any one else does - he has the tech and the ability to analyze quicker than any of them; and Clint knows it.

He starts hacking into their last mission debrief;

“Where are you?”

There’s a beat and Tony assumes Clint’s looking at the coordinates on his phone. Converting them quickly into a 3D model rendering he’s suddenly in Rabat, Morocco.

“Rabat? You’re in Rabat?” What the actual fuck. He saw the pair yesterday. Actually; was it yesterday? Maybe it was the day before. He forgets he loses time.. Maybe he needs a clock that sporadically says the date and time or he could program The Robot to do it. He does some quick calculations.

“That’s a 12 hour flight commercial, maybe 6 by quinjet, maybe 2 by suit. I’ll re-task one with medical now.”

Putting Clint on mute he looks towards Pepper who hasn’t left the spot she was standing in. She looks scared and worried and hasn’t moved an inch.

“Pepper?” Moving over to her, he tucks some loose hair behind her ear, “you with me?”

She gives a nod, “yeah.”

“Yeah?” He sees her try to swallow this down. He takes her hand. “I need your help. Will you be ok in the quinjet? We’ll need to pick them up once they’re safe.”

Pepper stands straighten herself and nods, confidently.

“I can do that, I’ll pick up the medical team on the way.”

She’s coming back to herself now. All business.

“Can you send the co-ordinates when you know them? The quicker I go, the quicker I get there.”

He’s shaken her loose now, Pepper knows there’s time for grief and worry and fear when this is over. Battle stations.

This isn’t the first time, he’s sure it won’t be the last. Today Natasha, tomorrow him. Who knows.

He does wish it wasn’t Natasha though and he knows it’s now personal for Pepper as well.

Their friendship borne of being in male dominated fields - a powerful alliance of friendship and knowledge.

Pepper sets off, transferring the call to Tony so she can make calls to the relevant authorities to land their jet in the airspace.

Tony unmutes Clint and turns back to the task at hand.

“I’m looking at satellite footage, when was she taken?”

The silence that hangs makes it clear that Clint doesn’t know.

“We got back to the hotel, ate and then she left for the scout point. She was on first watch. I think she has her earpiece in. Can you track that?”

Tony doesn’t even touch on the fact that Natasha and Clint wear Starktec earpieces in missions; and not the generic ones. Natasha must have hooked them up to the correct frequencies so that no one would be the wiser.

He types quickly, looking for the relevant frequencies and pings any radio waves off that one. He bypasses the ones that are in Spain and Portugal - whilst feasible she may have been taken there it’s more likely they kept her in country. Narrowing it down he finds a likely mark - it’s a weak signal but feels like it adds up.

“She’s about 21 miles from you, the earpiece is pinging from an importer warehouse.”

He checks his suit and calculates how quickly he can get there, maybe two hours at full speed? Grabbing a quick drink of water and granola bar he starts to head out, filling Clint in as he goes.

“I can meet you there but it’s going to take me around two hours flying at full speed; even if we get her the jets going to be 4 hours behind me. Do you have a plan?”

He waits for Clint to say anything and when he doesn’t he realises that Clint’s running on fumes.

“I’m on my way. Head to the warehouse; I know you are anyway, and I’ll meet you there. The warehouse is guarded - I would advise not to engage tactically it’d be better to have a diversion and get her out when attention is elsewhere.”

Tony is the the launch pad, pushing off he thinks out loud “Who are these guys?”

He has the warehouse on his holo, the warehouse is swarming. He wants to be clear to Clint that going in solo is suicide, Natasha appears to be in the bowels of the warehouse and he only knows that because the signal she gives off is so weak. Underground is the only thing that makes sense.

“Clint; so you know; they’re everywhere. If you can; wait for my signal. Get yourself in position I’ll be there as soon as I can, I’m swapping to your comms line now. The jets already left, Pepper is on board, and a med team”

He checks Pepper’s whereabouts, she’s done well to get out so quick.

“They’ll be there in just under 6 hours. We will have to get her out and get to the airport.”

Tony thinks for a minute. If they can get her location maybe they can talk to her.

“ Let’s try and get her on coms.. If she’s conscious…” he leaves that thought hanging.

He concentrates on the directions he’s getting and the trajectory path of New York to Morocco.

“Anyway. I’m now on comms, I’ll catch you soon bird boy. Hang tight.”

Tony disconnects.

He can zone out whilst flying but doesn’t; he calls Pepper to check in.

“You ok?” He opens, sending the airport coordinates to the quinjet.

Pepper answers with a yes, let’s him know she’s received the info and lets Dr Cho say hello. That’s good, Natasha likes (which may be a too strong a word) the good doctor. At least they have more of a chance of getting her stable and to a hospital should it be necessary. They’ve also picked up medical supplies and the jets stocked with some food and water.

“What if she’s not ok Tony?” Pepper says quietly. Pepper knows Natasha’s history more than most; disclosed to her through conversation and work. Tony only knows because he’s hacked all her files. Shield, the KGB, anything really he could get his hands on. He may know more about her history than she does. Not that he’ll ever tell her that. Natasha knows that he’s memorised all of her and somehow he’s not dead. Maybe it’s like having a witness; someone to see all your bad and all your scars and still treat you as human. Isn’t that all anyone wants?

“She’s always ok, Pep.” He says reassuringly. “She’s always ok,” but this time more to himself. Ending the call, he focuses on flying.

-

Clint contacts him to let him know he’s arrived. Checking the screen he lets Clint know he’s about 45 minutes out. He marks out Clint - knowing now where he is from the feedback of his earpiece and watches as he move around the warehouse. Less than ten minutes pass before he’s back to where he started. There’s static in his earbud and they’re just in time to hear Natasha yelling Clint’s name.

Tony double checks - Clint must have cleared up the frequencies. Clint's saying her name reverently but Tony needs to know what she knows; apparently though, Natasha knows less. She doesn’t sound good though. Her breath is hitching and there’s definitely something she’s not telling them.

“We’re coming for you,” he says; more to himself than to Natasha

He boosts his thrusters and tries to turn 30 minutes into 5. He’s twenty minutes away when it starts.

Screaming.

Natasha screaming. It is confronting and hurts him to his soul. His nightmares will have nightmares about this.

He sees Clint scrambling.

Fuck.

“Clint! Wait! Don’t go in!”

He gets it, he does, but there’s too many of them. He sets off two smaller missiles, targeted for the front of the building. He hopes the building has some sort of structural integrity that it doesn’t collapse on his team mates. He sends off another on to firework and draw fire. Natasha is still screaming and coughing and moaning. Sounds that no-one should be making. It’s going on too long. How many rounds of this were there for her?

And then there’s silence.

They’ve either injected her with something or killed her.

He pushes his body and his suit to get there faster, and upon arrival it’s a clean up mission. They don’t feel professional or well organised - but he draws more fire on arrival and takes a perverse pleasure in counting them out. He sees Clint arrive at Natasha; and almost feels that he shouldn’t be a part of this intimacy; this rawness.

Clint's trying to rouse her, he’s saying her name with tenderness, there’s nothing until…

Tony feels a bit like crying at whimper and moans that are coming from Natasha. It’s at odds with the woman who gives the best poker face; even when she’s stubbed her toe on the corner of a table or rocks up to debrief with a broken arm and a black eye like it’s nothing.

He lands close to the black car that Clint’s obviously stole, and waits for him to come out. Clint’s bundled Natasha in a blanket. Eyeballing her, she’s semi-conscious but not all there, he’s not even sure she’s aware that he’s there.

“I’ll meet you at the airport,” Clint acknowledges that he’s spoken and puts Natasha in the passenger seat.

Tony links in with Pepper who lets him know they’ll be there in less than an hour, thank god. He lets her know they’ve got Natasha but she’s in rough shape.

He’s waiting at the airport and greets the jet when it lands.

“They’ll be here soon.” He says by way of greeting.

Pepper nods. He acknowledges Dr Cho, and thanks her for coming.

Cho knows Natasha is a horrible patient, preferring to suffer in silence.

Tony could go a lifetime without Natasha being hurt and hearing those sounds ever again. He’s switched off the comms hearing Clint talk everything and nothing to keep Natasha awake.

They wait in relative silence. Tony watches them arrive and Pepper follows him out to greet them.

Clint is holding her and there’s blood everywhere. Pepper gasps audibly and heads back into the quinjet to find Dr Cho, they get her into the jet, and Tony helps straps Clint in - he goes to wrap it around Natasha as well but is stopped by the shake of a head.

“She needs to go to the hospital,” Tony says to no one in particular.

Cho is eyeballing Natasha from the side.

“Do you think she’ll let me look at her?”

They watch Natasha move and bury herself into Clint’s arms. They all hear her rattling breath.

“Clint,” Tony tries again, “medical are the only ones who can deal with all of this.”

He watches Natasha tremble in Clint’s arms and then as he brushes her hair away from her ear. He pretends not to hear Clint ask Natasha whether she wants to be sedated. The shake of her head cements her position in stone.

Tony looks to Cho, “anything you can do from here?”

Clint looks scandalous.

“Fuck off Tony, she said no.”

“She’s losing blood, Clint! She’s clearly got broken ribs, I can hear her breathing. Not to mention a concussion - and I can see the taser burns.”

Clint looks uncomfortable.

“She said no, Tony. I’m not going make her.”

Tony drops it. Sarcastically apologises to Cho for coming.

They’re about 3 hours in when Natasha starts to seize.

——-

Hopefully chuck this under a cut tomorrow. Tomorrow we continue from this one leaves off.

[emmys-grimoire]

Season 2 review

It is done!

I’ll preface this review with the obvious but nevertheless important: these are my opinions. I am fine with others criticizing my opinions, mind you, but I’m usually disinclined to changing them. Like most opinionated people.

And as with most things covered in this blog, spoilers ahead. Don’t read it if you don’t like ‘em.

The Good

I believe the devs did the side characters justice in terms of character development, which is impressive because they have to fixate on seven other characters for most of the story (the demon brothers are the draw, afterall). It’s a little frustrating because it shows they are capable of revealing a lot about a character in just a single conversation, but they spend a great deal of their time on fluff. It is nothing unsurprising given the aim of the game as a whole (romantic fantasy/escapism), but it does detract from… well, everything else. If you don’t care about everything else, this doesn’t matter. If you’re one of the few who do, like me, you’re in for a drought before you get to the next juicy story morsel. Alas, that is the price we pay.

But, this is ‘the Good’ section of the review, so I will focus on that. Diavolo, Luke, Simeon, and Solomon get fleshed out more than they did in the previous season as promised, and their growing closeness to MC doesn’t feel hamfisted; there’s little realistic hooks strewn throughout that makes the relationships grow organically compared to, say, the newt syrup arc.

At the end of the season MC is set to become Solomon’s new apprentice, they are now instrumental in Diavolo’s plan for realm-wide peace instead of just being a particularly charming exchange student, Simeon is more interested in learning more about MC due to MC’s meddling during the retreat and their performance in his play, and Luke finally can bring himself to admit that he actually enjoys being in the Devildom. Michael is being alluded to more and more and finally drops in to say hi, even though the game stops short of explicitly revealing that it is him. It all feels like a good transition into more romantic things with them in the next season, and I look forward to exploring more hidden depths.

I am relieved they steered away from additional time travel due to its potential to confuse everyone and everything. We need to learn what the deal is with Barbatos but I’m sure it can be done without meddling with the time continuum. The introduction of the Reaper has interesting worldbuilding implications: the souls of all beings are overseen by what appears to be an unaligned third party, though prior lore implies that the departed souls still return to their respective realms (Lilith allegedly forgot how to ascend to the Celestial Realm in her desire to watch over her siblings). But, like with Michael, they avoided actually showing him by having him take a vacation right before Solomon and the brothers arrive.

On the whole, I’m happy with the season’s ending. It’s probably as good as it can get, and sets up the next season well -- assuming there is one (I think there will be).

The Bad

It’s hard to frame this because there were never any explicit promises made but wow was the build-up wasted and the climax went down dry.

Diavolo’s wishy-washiness and reluctance to tell Lucifer about how MC’s presence was slowly tearing the Devildom asunder, his growing jealousy and his doubt in the strength of Lucifer’s loyalty, the foreshadowing in Simeon’s play, Barbatos warning Lucifer that one day he may need to choose between Diavolo and MC/his family and how he was reverting back to his angelic self, the very foreboding storm that was brewing outside, how Lucifer was certain “something bad” was about to happen… all that juicy potential rendered impotent because of the Ring of Light and amnesia.

It didn’t lead to a tortured, difficult choice Lucifer had to make that had the potential to put either his relationships or the realms in jeopardy -- and it really felt like it was headed in that direction. But it couldn’t really lead there because Lucifer lost his memories, and he was just re-familiarizing himself with all those relationships. Instead we had to choose whether or not we let Lucifer martyr himself, and of course he’s willing to do that because he loves us even if his memories aren’t fully intact, and it’s heavily implied that he’s his angel-like self again. The choices we made during the play don’t really come into fruition, and the Ring of Light helps make our choice ultimately irrelevant anyway.

It felt like they winded up for the pitch and then lost their nerve.

Though I’d argue that Lucifer would ultimately be okay with sacrificing himself for MC and the realms even if he was still his full-fledged, assholish demon self… but it definitely felt like fate was going to make him choose between his loyalty and his love. You know, the whole “love is the death of duty”/”duty is the death of love” shebang. It would have been more rewarding -- they can even let the Ring of Light ultimately fix everything and I’d be happy if it was that dilemma! But this isn’t Game of Thrones, so I can’t be too disappointed that my expectations weren’t met.

If you like Lucifer and Mammon fluff, this season gives it in spades. If neither of those two are your favorite you might have been bummed out. They give Asmo an arc but he ultimately concludes he was trying too hard to be like Lucifer which left me all ?????? How? Satan tutors you, but he doesn’t really deviate from what he usually does (though his minor tiff with Simeon when he’s physically affectionate with us was amusing). The devs did suggest they want to explore Satan’s origins more thoroughly in the future in one of the newsletters, and I think we’re due for that in the next season. There’s hope for the others yet... just not much in this season.

The Future?

I think there’s a high probability that we’ll get a season 3. Nothing about season 2’s ending felt like they were wrapping things up. The season as a whole felt like a transition.

I think we’ll get more romantic scenes with our “undateables” and they won’t officially be considered “undateables” any more. We’ll probably get more cards with them. I’m not sure if they’ll fully graduate into dance battle sprites because that’ll require more creative color assignments for glow sticks, but I wouldn’t entirely discount the possibility. There are many shades in the rainbow.

I think worldbuilding necessitates more exploration of the Celestial Realm, and an eventual conclusion to the game storyline requires officially mending relations between the angels and demons and healing the wounds incurred by both the wars of the distant past and the Great Celestial War (which was essentially a civil war). Such a thing requires an honest dialogue between the two factions for it to ring sincere, not just a continuation of the exchange program. The game doesn’t hesitate in stating how violent all of it was.

To that end, I think we’re going to at least get a full-fledged Michael eventually, though I understand the reluctance to add him due to the work that will follow in adding another handsome man fans will undoubtedly want to make blush and kiss. They may leave him a disembodied voice for as long as they possibly can, but at some point fans will start complaining at the teasing. It’ll be like continually having to skip a missing step on a ladder.

Until then, though, he’s a missing step that’s fun to conceptualize.

You won’t get routes. The setting is ideal for a harem: all the potential love interests loved each other before MC ever entered the picture, so they will eventually accept having to share them, jealousy be damned. I’m pretty sure they’re all aware of MC’s affection towards each of them already: it’s just a matter of contention of which among them MC prefers the most. If MC wants to pursue only one of the brothers, it is up to them to do just that -- in the confines of the presented story.

Conclusion

There were some good story bits to chew on here and there, but as a whole the writing fell flatter than season 1’s writing, in spite of the predictability in the latter. The general unpredictability of this season has made things more exciting than the conclusion we eventually arrived at; it’s hard to commend it when it just doesn’t lead to something intriguing.

Welp, at least we get time to level up our cards for the next season. I only have three URs so it was pretty rough.

I’ll probably do more analysis and essays in the interim, as I work through hard mode and think more about stuff. It’s been fun, in spite of my critique.

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Whumptober No.26

Athos had always been a good rider, but now he realized how much of that ability was based on seeing. As his horse, tied to d’Artagnan’s, trotted along at what should be a comfortable pace, he had difficulties staying in the saddle. With his eyes bandaged, he had no inkling in which direction they were heading, what kind of ground they were navigating, if they were approaching an ascent or descent, and he was at the complete mercy of his animal’s whims. A few minutes into the ride, he’d given up on holding the reins and had been clinging to the pommel instead, his legs soon hurting from clenching them around the horse’s sides. 

They’d discussed letting him ride together with one of them, but Athos had insisted on using his own mount. His dignity was taking enough of a hit already, and he hated being a burden. At least he had d’Artagnan as his navigator. The best rider of all of them and gifted with horses, he was doing what he could to help Athos, guiding the black Friesian with a calm hand and warning Athos about changes in territory or speed.

Nevertheless, when they reached the garrison, Athos was drenched in sweat and sore all over. Under the bandage, his eyes were sticky and stung incessantly, and he could tell they were swelling shut. The cuts on his face were burning and he felt a little seasick. Although he couldn’t see anything, he could hear the noises of the garrison dying down as they rode into the courtyard. Sparring matches ended abruptly, conversations stopped, and Athos felt curious and concerned eyes on him.

“Come on, slide off that saddle.” Porthos clapped him on the thigh. “I’ll give you a hand.”

Awkwardly, groping for his brother’s arms and shoulders, Athos dismounted and heard d’Artagnan and Aramis ward off fellow-soldiers who’d approached to find out what had happened.

“He’s injured, and we’re taking care of him,” Aramis’ voice rang out. “He’s not in any danger. Go back to your posts and give him some space.”

A background of disconcerted murmurs followed Athos as Porthos led him across the yard, and Athos couldn’t remember ever feeling this exposed and helpless. Porthos had hooked him under, and yet he almost tripped on a protruding cobblestone. Jaw clenched, he forced himself not to stick his arm out to feel for obstacles. He didn’t want to look like a fool.

Inside the infirmary, Porthos deposited him on a chair and, with a squeeze of his arm, left to report to Treville. Athos was grateful for the cool quiet of the room and for the lack of an audience. He’d always hated the infirmary, but today it felt like a sanctuary. Exhausted, he let his head sink, fingering the bandage around his smarting eyes. His face hurt. His head hurt. Everything hurt.

“Here, drink this.” 

Aramis pressed a cup into his hand, and the familiar scent of Sister Marie’s calming draught rose into his nose. Gratefully, Athos drank it up in a few large gulps.

“D’Artagnan is fetching Doctor Lemay. Until he arrives, let’s make you a little more comfortable, shall we?”

Athos nodded in surrender. The mixture of herbs and alcohol was quickly taking effect, numbing pain and fear and embarrassment to something he could deal with. It made him quietly compliant, and he let Aramis unbuckle his weapons belt, strip him of his jacket and, very carefully, peel the makeshift bandage from his eyes. But he tensed when he heard Aramis suck in a breath.

“That bad?” 

“No, it’s just…” Athos felt Aramis’ breath cool on his face when the medic inspected his injuries. “It’s very swollen, but that was to be expected. It will look a lot less dramatic once the swelling goes down. Sit back and try to relax.”

Aramis’ stool screeched across the floorboards when he got up and moved away. Athos heard him bustle about the room, pouring water, mixing medicines, gathering supplies, and he allowed himself to feel comforted by the familiar noises and smells. He’d witnessed Aramis work miracles within the walls of this room. Maybe there was one left for him.

D’Artagnan returned with Lemay surprisingly quickly. The physician was clearly out of breath when he leaned over Athos to examine him - the impetuous Gascon must have hustled him along at a merciless pace. Even before the doctor addressed Athos, he had identified the man by his clean, mildly perfumed smell and the jingling of the instruments in his medical bag.

“I’m going to be as gentle as I can, Lieutenant,” Lemay said in his schooled, caring voice. “But I’m afraid it’s going to be uncomfortable.” 

Athos nodded but felt himself breaking into a sweat.

Once more, his eyelids were forced apart. Once more, pain stabbed into his eyes and tears welled, unstoppable. Once more, he couldn’t suppress a gasp and wanted nothing but to bat at the fingers that were causing him such torment. And, once more, firm, brotherly hands held him through the procedure.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of the ordeal. 

Lemay ordered a treatment that found Athos squirming on his back on a table, Porthos pressing his shoulders down and Aramis’ palms firmly cupping his cheeks while an infusion of eyebright was poured into his eyes, streamed down his face and pooled at his neck, all of it, all of it, becoming so unbearable that he pleaded with them to stop until they did.

By the time they had him in a bed, his eyes thickly bandaged, he had to fight through a haze of exhaustion and disorientation to focus on the voices in the darkness.

“...Euphrasia twice a day. Summon me at once at any sign of inflammation.” 

“We will. Thank you, doctor.”

Athos heard light footsteps retreat and a door being shut. To his right and left, leather creaked and weapons jangled on belts, and he felt the presence of a brother on either side. 

“Aramis?” he asked into the swath of stinging black.

“What is it?”

“I didn’t... catch what Lemay said,” Athos admitted, swallowing. “About my eyes. Did he say if…?” He stopped, letting the silence finish the question for him.

“He said he cannot say if there will be any lasting damage.” Aramis’ voice was gentle and accompanied by a warm hand settling on Athos’ arm. “We will have to wait until you’ve healed. For now, it’s important that we ward off infection. We’ll know more in a few days.”

Porthos grunted. “You’ll be fine. I know you will.”

D’Artagnan, who, judging by the nervous pacing, had to be on his left, didn’t say anything, but Athos could physically feel the anxiety emanating from the Gascon.

“For now,” Aramis continued, “try to get some rest. Porthos and d’Artagnan have to report for duty, but I’ll be here.” The hand remained on his arm, an anchor in the dark. “Just rest.”

***

Athos had survived a lot of injuries in his life, but few of them had been as debilitating as this one. Although Aramis had assured him that all remaining glass had been washed out of his eyes, he could have sworn he was wrong: the constant scraping sensation drove him crazy and rendered sleep impossible. Rinsing them with Lemay’s prescribed infusion of eyebright- as harrowing as the procedure itself was - brought a few minutes of treacherous relief until the sandy feeling returned with a vengeance. And distraction was difficult. The darkness encasing Athos highlighted every sensation and made him feel helpless and claustrophobic. 

To make matters worse, the day after their return, his eyes had swollen entirely shut and started to weep sickly fluid. An urgently summoned Lemay had diagnosed infection. He’d added a solution of milk, honey and cooked onion to Athos’ treatment that Aramis applied with determination and diligence, accompanied by upbeat remarks. Porthos and d’Artagnan did their best to cheer him up with banter and reports from their day at the garrison, but their kind voices and helping hands did little to dispel Athos’ mounting fear and frustration. 

The nights were the worst. Although one of them - usually Aramis - slept on a cot right next to him in case he needed assistance, the silence that befell the garrison became oppressive. Once Aramis’ deep, even breaths announced that he’d fallen asleep, the pitch black behind Athos’ eyelids became an abyss, and he tumbled into it, blind. 

Blind.

What if the infection took his eyesight? And even if not - what if he was left with his vision compromised? Whenever Armis cleaned and re-bandaged his eyes, everything still looked blurry, Aramis a mere blotch in front of him. What if things didn’t improve? He needed keen eyesight to remain a musketeer. If he could no longer see well enough to shoot, to fight, to read, he would have to surrender his commission. What would become of him then? 

While he had no doubt that his brothers would stick by him, even take care of him, the thought was unbearable. Useless, helpless, dependent - it would be the opposite of who he was and not a life worth living. Not for him. 

“Athos?”

A hand found him in the darkness. 

“What’s wrong, Athos? Can’t sleep?” Aramis’ palm felt rough as he touched Athos in his by now familiar sequence - forehead, neck, wrist - checking for fever or pain. 

“How did you know I was awake?” Athos asked back. He’d been perfectly still.

“I could hear you thinking.”

“That is ridiculous.” Athos huffed, no longer bothering to turn his head in his friend’s direction. He’d given up on that useless habit two days ago.

“Not when your thoughts are this loud,” Aramis said, and Athos could hear the medic’s soft smirk in his voice. 

“If that is the case,” Athos replied, “I will make an effort to think quieter thoughts. I wouldn’t want to disrupt your beauty sleep any further.”

Aramis chuckled, and his cot squeaked as he settled back down. 

“That is very gracious of you.”

More squeaking ensued and the flutter of a blanket being rearranged as Aramis made himself comfortable a mere arm’s length from Athos. Silence descended once more, and Athos waited for Aramis’ breaths to even out and confirm that he’d gone back to sleep. 

Instead, softly, the marksman’s voice penetrated the darkness again.

“You’re allowed to be afraid, you know?”

Athos’ heart skipped a beat. His throat suddenly tightened. 

Damn you, Aramis. 

He was their best marksman for a reason, always hitting the bull’s eye. 

Athos swallowed but couldn’t answer. He felt tears rise and, for the first time, he was glad about the bandage covering his eyes. 

“You’re not alone, brother,” Aramis added, and the certainty in his voice almost broke Athos. “And whatever happens, you never will be.”

Fighting for control, Athos didn’t move, didn’t say anything for a few dozen more aching heartbeats. He just lay there, breathing raggedly and infinitely grateful that Aramis had the presence of mind not to touch him now. Eventually, he released a shaky exhale and nodded. 

“I know.” 

Dear god, he sounded like glass.

“Now get some sleep,” Aramis said, putting sternness behind his words. ”I’ll be here if there’s anything you need.”

And with that pledge, they both fell silent again, and, after a while, even Athos went to sleep.

***

There wasn’t a grand moment of truth. Not a momentous unwrapping of his eyes to find his sight suddenly and miraculously restored. Like any severe injury, this one took its time to heal, in stages, and at every stage there was no telling if further improvement would show itself. They were all relieved when the infection faded. The swelling went down, the leakage stopped, the stinging lessened. Every time Aramis changed his bandages, his vision improved just a little. Aramis went from a shapeless blur to a silhouette, to a body and a face whose details slowly, slowly swam a bit more into focus. The light didn’t hurt as much. Blinking was no longer agony. Finally, the bandages stayed off, and Athos moved back into his own quarters, one hand still on a brother’s shoulder to guide him through a blotchy, unreliable world, but grateful for his regained freedom.

Every day, he returned to the infirmary for treatment. Every day, Aramis played down the nervousness in his ever-same question: “Any improvement?” And every day, Athos looked around the room, seeing sharper edges, more nuances and, looking back at Aramis, familiar details reappeared: the scars and the stubble, the fine lines around his eyes and the well-tended tips of his moustache. 

“Yes,” Athos said, and nodded while Aramis’ trepidation merged into joy.

There were milestones that he took. Losing the bandages was the first. Recognizing friends when someone called his name and he turned around, seeing them approach, was another. No longer feeling for the holes in his weapons belt, but actually seeing what he was doing as he dressed, tied strings, closed clasps and buckles was a step as little and as big as the memorable day when, hands trembling, he opened a book and the blurry scrawl morphed back into letters that he could read.

The damage did not heal completely in the end. When he looked at the bright sky, he saw tiny specks swimming across his vision that hadn’t been there before - scars, Aramis explained - but he got used to them, and they didn’t bother him in his daily life. Reading was more difficult by candlelight now, and Aramis predicted he’d need spectacles at some point in the future, but his long-distance vision had returned as sharp as ever.

Treville put it to a test. He had to. When rumours spread - fueled by the Red Guard - that one of the finest soldiers in the regiment was no longer fit for duty, the captain had set up a series of challenges for Athos to prove them wrong. Athos mastered an obstacle course on horseback without difficulty, demonstrated his swordsmanship in a duel that was over in a few dizzying strikes and - the trickiest test of them all -  had to shoot at and hit targets from an increasing distance. While his marksmanship had never been as perfect as Aramis’, it was good enough: His friends whooped as another tin cup became airborne when the ball fired from Athos’ pistol sent it flying.

Afterwards, his fellow musketeers welcomed him back with friendly slaps to his pauldron and words of camaraderie, and Treville stepped in front of Athos with a proud smile to quickly pull him in for an embrace.

When he stayed behind to clean up with the other three, collecting bullet-riddled targets, sweeping up hay that had been strewn about and polishing weapons, Athos let his gaze roam over the garrison grounds, taking in every detail, every pebble and chip of wood, every glint of steel and dust moat floating in the slanting light of the evening sun. Then, he looked at his brothers. He saw d’Artagnan laugh and throw a handful of straw at Porthos, accompanied by some teasing joke. Porthos shook himself, grunting, and cast the young Gascon a sinister scowl before giving him a shove that was never meant seriously. Sitting at the table, an arquebus in his lap, fingers blackened by gun oil, Aramis rolled his eyes at the two but did not suppress a grin. 

Athos saw grown men acting like boys, shedding the worry and seriousness of the last few weeks like dead weight. He saw their hands that had guided him, helped him dress, helped him orientate himself in a suddenly blackened world, now slapping each other across the back, cracking silly jokes. He saw their eyes that had been his eyes when he couldn’t see, now shining with joy, three different shades of brown, three different souls looking out of them at the world, Aramis’ gentle ones now settling on him.

“Is everything all right, Athos?”

Seeing worry return to his friend’s gaze, Athos nodded quickly and decided that it was his turn to smile. 

“Yes,” he said, and sat down next to Aramis to clean his own pistol. “Yes. Everything is all right indeed.”

(Read all of my Whumptober fics on AO3, here.)

[ladylynse]

Hi again, "dead Bird" anon again! I was actually hoping for a musing (mostly 'cause I still don't really know where the idea was going in my head), but thank you very much for the 3 sentence! Love it lots :D

re this ask - thanks, Anon!

What would Ladybug feel/do when one day Cat Noir brings her a "dead" (or nearly dead) bird, except that bird is one comatose/sick wielder of the Peacock & he's distraught? What would he ask her to do?

if Adrien is bringing someone to Ladybug, he’s planning on asking for help. He might not have a better idea of what they need, so I can’t see him asking for anything terribly specific.

Marinette would have so many questions--what happened? What’s wrong? What is Chat Noir thinking, bringing Mayura to her instead of to a hospital? (We’ll go with Nathalie for this over Emilie this time; that’s a different can of worms that’s definitely associated with a reveal, if you ever want that one explored, too.)--but she would shelve the more irrelevant ones to deal with the most immediate problem.

If Chat Noir doesn’t know what happened, or doesn’t know the details, then she’ll focus on what he can tell her. And if that’s nothing, well, then she’s left with what anyone else is left with when faced with something like this: first aid and whatever useful background knowledge she might’ve gleaned over the years. Given that Marinette babysits Manon regularly, it’s likely she’d have some sort of knowledge on that front, even if she never specifically took a first aid course or a babysitter’s course.

The complicating factor is, of course, the Miraculous. With magic in the mix, some logic goes out the window, and I don’t think Marinette knows that the Peacock Miraculous is damaged. I think Tikki and Plagg and Master Fu would know, but not Marinette or Adrien. However, as they know from first hand experience how much the magic protects them, and what they’ve survived without slowing down, they’ll know that whatever this is, it’s not a small, easily fixed thing.

That’ll be why Adrien decided to call Ladybug in the first place. You can bet that he would have had all sorts of training, first aid included, but how good is a normal hospital from what might very well be a magical malady? Whatever this is, it wasn’t reversed by the Miraculous Ladybug spell. Treating the symptoms and not the cause will only get you so far, and he needs to make a gamble on whether it’s better to take the time to try to explain to someone in an emergency room what’s going on--even if he’s not exactly candid on Mayura’s identity, since she’s not really in the public eye and therefore might not be branded a supervillain on sight--in the hopes that they can do enough for her to get her through till more help comes, or whether he goes the slightly longer route of going to (or potentially through) Ladybug. And if they were coming back from a fight with Hawk Moth and he saw an ailing--a failing--Mayura, saw her collapse, he’s not going to hang around to see if Hawk Moth turns up to help. He’s not that kind of person. She’s in trouble. She needs help. And Ladybug can help him get that help.

Adrien might not know that Ladybug first found out about Master Fu because her kwami was sick, but he does know she’s got connections on that front. Even once he does find out about Master Fu, he’s not the one to decide they need additional help, at least not alone; it’s still usually Ladybug who has the final call on that, and she’s the one to go to Master Fu for it. And once he’s no longer the guardian, well, it only makes sense for Adrien to go to Ladybug. Even if she doesn’t know what to do, Wayzz probably does.

But you wanted to know what I thought Marinette’s reaction to all this might be, so I’ll get back to that. Chat Noir is asking her to help, and she doesn’t know how to help. Not really. She’ll just have to try her best.

If Mayura is out in a fight, and most likely brought down from the toll of being in that fight, she probably used her power. Given the logic in the show, she wouldn’t simply transform back when she ran out of time, but this Miraculous is damaged. It wouldn’t necessarily hold forever once she’s unconscious. There’s also the very real possibility that it got jostled while Chat Noir was bringing her to Ladybug, so I think a reveal of Mayura being Nathalie Sancoeur is a very real possibility here.

Marinette won’t have time to deal with the Mayura is Nathalie Sancoeur??? thoughts flooding her mind, nor what was definitely a squeak of recognition from Chat Noir. That might not mean anything, anyway; Gabriel’s brand is very well known in Paris, and for all that Nathalie tends to hide behind a tablet, it’s not unlikely that Chat Noir would recognize her. But if she’s recognizable to them, she’s recognizable to others, and Hawk Moth, wherever he is, could very well have realized that she’s missing by now and be looking for her. They need to get inside, set up shop somewhere close and somewhere semi-private, as much to protect them as to protect Nathalie. Marinette would get Chat Noir to find them a good spot while she checks Nathalie over, to give him something to focus on instead of panic, and she needs figure out what she can before to she consults anyone. That moving instead of freezing, acting and assessing instead of panicking, will help stave off the shock of Mayura’s identity and, at least for the time being, the worry over what that might mean.

At a point where Master Fu is around, Marinette would go to fetch him. She’d defer to his knowledge and experience before trying to guess at what’s going on herself. If he’s not, if it’s just her and Chat Noir, then she’d talk to Wayzz and pick his brain, or she’d find a spot to duck behind and release her own transformation so she could talk to Tikki. Marinette knows enough to know that this is bad, and she wouldn’t risk acting on what she knows is deficient knowledge. The kwami might not know what’s in the book, but they probably know something about the Peacock Miraculous.

Now. You’ll probably have noticed that I haven’t mentioned Duusu yet. That would be another narrative choice, I think, as to whether or not Duusu is released from the Miraculous when Nathalie detransforms or if the Miraculous is rendered inactive. Duusu doesn’t seem to be with Nathalie all the time, so that Miraculous seems to be inactive more often than it is active, probably because they’re aware that it’s damaged and having it active is dangerous to the user--and, for all we know, to the kwami, god-like powers or not. If Duusu is there, they’d question Duusu. If not, I’m not convinced Marinette or Adrien would attempt to use the Miraculous, even if they would confiscate it so Nathalie isn’t able to transform back once she’s conscious--or Hawk Moth finds them. (Like I said before, even if they don’t know the Peacock Miraculous is damaged in so many words, they would have reason to question how Nathalie came to be in such a bad spot and would therefore have reason to be cautious.)

So, in short? I think Marinette would panic, wondering why Chat Noir is bringing this to her, and then she’d force herself to calm down and assess. She’d delegate tasks, making sure they’re all safe, not just Nathalie, and then get as much information as she can--from Chat Noir, from Master Fu, from Tikki, Wayzz, anyone she can think of. If this is a situation where Tikki agrees that Lucky Charm will help, she’d use that. If it doesn’t look like Nathalie is going to wake up, she’d probably take Nathalie to the hospital, just to try to buy herself a bit more time while trying to figure out what’s going on. When she has a moment to herself, she’ll be even more likely to break down and panic and worry and stress, but as long as she has something to focus on, she’ll latch onto that to give her grounding, and it’ll help get her through this.

(related)

[purpleiri]

Xu Mo: Revelation Date Translation

许墨 【启秘之约】

When Xu Mo was in England, he once rented a small farmhouse long-term. Now, he needs to handle the cancellation of his lease. With an opportunity to travel, I naturally followed him there happily. What surprised me was that, there, Xu Mo had hidden an important secret concerning us.

Please do not re-post my translations.

I’m not a professional translator. I do not claim that my translations are 100% accurate.

I hope that you’ll enjoy watching/reading the date! Text-only version under the cut.

This was the second day since we arrived at the farmhouse.

It also marked one week since I found out that Xu Mo had rented a small farmhouse when he was in England. It was located in Hampshire, adjacent to a magnificent large manor.

Now that his lease has expired, Xu Mo needed to personally come over to handle matters regarding rent. Naturally, I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to travel like this and so I followed him here happily.

Today, we woke up especially early to cook up a hearty English-styled breakfast.

MC: “Xu Mo, how do you cook these canned baked beans?”

Xu Mo: “You just need to heat it up a little. Let me do this, it isn’t easy to open a can like this.”

He took the can from my hands and cleanly pried the lid open.

The fried egg in the pan sizzled and oil started spattering. I quickly looked back and carefully placed the half-cooked egg onto a plate.

MC: “Xu Mo, Xu Mo, I managed to cook a perfectly round sunny-side up egg!”

Xu Mo was pouring the beans out of the can when he quickly glanced at my plate and chuckled.

Xu Mo: “Actually, I can also cook an egg like this. I just never had the chance to demonstrate it.”

MC: “Oh~ Really?”

I spoke with a deliberate drawl and looked at Xu Mo with suspicion.

MC: “Doesn’t Professor Xu not even know how to make dumplings?”

Xu Mo’s gaze stilled, looking as if he was rendered a little speechless by my ridicule.

Xu Mo: “I’ll have to admit, you are indeed my teacher when it comes to cooking.”

“But, Teacher, you need to have a little faith in your outstanding student.”

“My culinary skills will not just stay the same.”

With a smile, I carefully arranged some of the cooked ingredients on the plate according to how it was done by a food blogger shown on my phone.

MC: “Mm, the bread is done baking too……”

Xu Mo: “Besides these, is there anything else left to do?”

I stood in front of the refrigerator and thought about it.

MC: “Actually, we could also fry some potato wedges. But right now, we might not even be able to finish eating what we already have.”

“Let’s just have this for now!”

Xu Mo glanced at the plate filled to the brim with food and suddenly walked behind me.

Xu Mo: “You missed one most important thing.”

--

MC: “The most important thing?”

Sausages, bacon, shiitake mushrooms, toast, baked beans, fried eggs… aren’t these all?

And yet, Xu Mo grabbed a small, clean pot and placed it on the counter, pouring two full glasses of water into it.

Xu Mo: “It’s not an English breakfast without milk tea.”

“Come, I’ll teach you how to cook milk tea.”

MC: “Eh?”

Xu Mo’s placed his arms on the sides of my waist, surrounding me tightly in his embrace.

MC: “……but I know how to cook milk tea.”

My quiet protest was wholly ignored. He lowered his head and rested his chin on my shoulder, leaning even closer.

Xu Mo: “The first step in cooking milk tea is to wait for the water to boil before putting in the tea leaves.”

Before long, the water in the small pot started bubbling.

Xu Mo placed the bag of tea leaves in my hand. He held my hand in his and directed it towards the pot, gently pouring some of the tea leaves into it.

Xu Mo: “Now, we need to wait patiently for a while.”

As soon as the tea leaves came into contact with the boiling water, the tea’s light fragrance permeated the air along with the hot steam. I leaned against Xu Mo and took in the farmhouse a little curiously.

Although it has been a long time since Xu Mo has visited, this place seemed to be well-taken care of. Not only were the furniture sparkling clean, even the bouquets of flowers decorating the windowsills were fresh.

MC: “Xu Mo, when did you start renting this place?”

Xu Mo: “After graduation. Back then, I was working on some research and wanted to find a place where I could focus on writing the paper. So, I rented this place.”

MC: “You rented a farmhouse specially to write a paper?”

At my exaggerated tone, Xu Mo laughed.

Xu Mo: “You don’t have to be so surprised. The cost of rent and utilities here isn’t as high as you might think.”

“Moreover, I didn’t have plans to return to the country back then. I did need a place where I could stay for a longer term.”

As he spoke, Xu Mo turned down the heat of the stove.

Xu Mo: “It’s time to pour in the milk.”

I followed his instructions and poured almost half a pot of milk inside, gently stirring the pot continuously with a ladle.

MC: “After returning to the country, did you come back here again?”

Xu Mo: “I didn’t. I was too busy.”

“This is certainly a situation I didn’t expect…”

“Fortunately, the owner of this place would come here often to do some cleaning and take care of the flowers and plants.”

He touched upon the subject casually, and suddenly clasped my waist with one hand.

Xu Mo: “But coming here this time, I’ve had some new experiences.”

“Just now, I’ve been thinking, it’s no wonder that the old professors from the University love coming here to enjoy farm life after retiring.”

“This kind of leisurely and carefree way of life really does make one yearn for it.”

I turned around and smiled at him.

MC: “If Professor Xu wants to retire, he’ll have to wait for at least another forty years, doesn’t he?”

Xu Mo gently pressed his lips against my neck.

Xu Mo: “I think that one should decide when to hide away at the countryside based on how they feel.”

MC: “I say this on behalf of our motherland’s field of scientific research: this is not good.”

The milk tea in the post has started giving out an irresistible, delicious fragrance. I quickly switched off the stove.

MC: “What’s the next step? Filtering?”

Xu Mo: “Let me do it. During this time, you can set up the dining table and think about what to do after eating breakfast.”

MC: “I’d wanted to walk around nearby, but since it rained last night the ground must still be wet and muddy.”

“Let’s go up to the attic and read some books. While we’re at it, we could help the owner take care of the flowers and plants upstairs.”

Xu Mo: “Mm, that’s good too.”

--

After breakfast, I searched the bookshelves and found two novels that seemed easy enough to understand. Carrying the books in my arms, I was prepared to bring them up to the attic.

A thoughtful expression suddenly appeared on Xu Mo’s face, seeming like he just remembered something important.

Xu Mo: “Could I trouble you with going upstairs and tidying up first? I want to go and look for something.”

MC: “Look for something?”

Xu Mo: “Mm, I left it here on purpose last time. But I don’t know if it’s still here.”

I nodded my head. After bringing the books and tea cups up into the attic, I even grabbed two cushions from the sofa and brought them along.

After having done all these, Xu Mo still did not follow me upstairs. I was a little curious; listening carefully, I followed along to where the sounds came from and arrived at the entrance of the house.

Xu Mo: “Got it.”

Upon noticing me standing in front of him, Xu Mo turned around and smiled softly at me.

Xu Mo: “The keys are now being kept in a different place, so I spent some time looking for them.”

I looked at the keys hanging off his little finger, and then looked at the stack of letters in his hand.

MC: “Hasn’t it been a long time since you came here? Why are there still letters being sent to you?”

Xu Mo: “Let’s go upstairs first.”

After closing the mailbox again, he walked over and held my hand.

I still could not tear my eyes away from the stack of envelopes in his hand, and I could not help but feel that one of them looked a little familiar.

Xu Mo: “After having stared at it for so long, you still don’t remember it?”

Just as we stepped off the last of the stairs leading up to the attic, Xu Mo gently scratched the tip of my nose.

Xu Mo: “I’ll give you a little hint—do you still remember how we visited a bookstore in the past?”

MC: “Bookstore? …what bookstore?”

I felt puzzled by his question, but still used the clue to carefully recall what happened.

Xu Mo looked at me patiently. Lingering at the corner of his lips was a smile hinting at a restrain on his part. He looked as if he wanted to reveal the answer, yet at the same time hopeful that I could remember it immediately.

MC: “It’s from……”

I hesitated for a moment, worried that I might answer it incorrectly. But the colour of the envelope coincided with the one in my memory.

MC: “It’s from when we went to the New Light Bookstore and wrote down a time capsule?”

He responded with a gentle hum and solemnly handed the brightly coloured envelope in his hand over to me. At the same time, he drew another envelope from the stack of letters.

Xu Mo: “Do you want to open it?”

I held onto the envelope in my hand as my thoughts brought me back to that afternoon when I went to the bookstore together with Xu Mo.

It was a Saturday. The weather forecast said that it would be cloudy, but it suddenly started raining after we went out. As such, we could only cancel our original plans and hurriedly ran to the bookstore for shelter.

It just so happened that the bookstore was running a small readers’ event with emotions as its theme. I hid the feelings of pettiness in my heart and pulled Xu Mo along to participate with me.

The setup of the event was very simple. Besides having invited a few novelists to speak on the subject of emotions, participants were asked to take part in their time capsule activity.

Everyone had to pick one or several questions from a fixed set of questions on emotions. We wrote down our answers on pieces of paper, put them in envelopes, and handed them over to the bookstore for safekeeping.

MC: “I remember, the bookstore told us at the time that we could go back after ninety-nine days to retrieve our time capsules, didn’t they?”

Xu Mo: “They did give me a call. Unfortunately, there were some changes that happened between us.”

“By right, I should have given them a way to contact you instead. But I was selfish.”

“I requested them to have both of our letters sent to this address, just so that I would not give in to temptation for whatever reason and end up opening your letter secretly…”

“And to also give myself a chance.”

“If I could come back here together with you one day, I wanted to open this letter right in front of your eyes.”

His voice was peaceful, as if he were simply calmly narrating a story from the past.

In fact, right after saying all these, he lifted the cup and took a sip of hot tea with a smile. I looked at the way his eyebrow was shrouded by the swirling hot mist and smiled softly as well.

We were like two people recklessly determined on going forward with their backs to each other, taking a painful and long detour before realising that, at the end of our journey, our destination has always been the same.

And afterwards, we could only gaze upon each other and smile helplessly as we gently blamed the other for being a fool in our hearts.

MC: “…at that time, I pulled you along to write this with me because I also wanted to see your answer.”

After all, for a long time, getting along with him was more like getting along with my own little moods.

I needed to suppress my own uneasiness, and also get used to the suddenness of waiting.

He was the trickiest puzzle I have ever encountered; one that made me contemplate deeply and helplessly as I always eagerly waited for him to tell me the correct answer quickly.

Seeing that I have fallen silent, Xu Mo suddenly held my hand, the sunlight adding a layer of brightness to his deep voice.

Xu Mo: “I will now reveal the answer to you.”

We tore both of our envelopes open at the same time.

From my envelope, I took out the question card that I picked at the time, as well as the letter that I deliberately folded several times over because I was worried that Xu Mo would take a peek.

Written on the question card in a fancy font was: “What did he/she teach you?”

Curiously, I looked up and took a glance, and found that Xu Mo had picked the same question.

He calmly opened his own letter, which had three words written on it. His penmanship showcased the straightforwardness of his thinking at the time of writing.

MC: “Lack of freedom……”

When I read those three words aloud, Xu Mo laughed gently.

Xu Mo: “Why did you read it with such an unhappy tone? When I wrote this answer, I did not mean for it to be unhappy in any way.”

“Though, after meeting you, I have indeed started encountering many problems in life that I did not have before. For example…”

He solemnly started contemplating. I could not help but follow him closely; I wanted to firmly carve every word that he was going to say into my heart.

However, he sighed softly, and almost immediately afterwards he let out a laugh.

Xu Mo: “For example, what to eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

MC: “Huh?”

For a moment, I was stunned.

Xu Mo: “For another example, I can’t help but start noticing the flowers in spring, the rain in summer, the maple leaves in autumn, and the fine snow in winter.”

“Or, when I come across an unexpectedly good movie, I don’t want to watch it alone. When I encounter something interesting, I would start having the desire to share it.”

“The strangest of all is that even the time I spend alone has started becoming more and more dull.”

As he slowly described his thoughts, Xu Mo gazed upon me with an unfaltering smile in his eyes. He watched as my expression shifted between uncertainty and amazement. At last, he could not hold back from teasing me.

Xu Mo: “Is it strange that this is how I think?”

MC: “Ah…. Mm.”

MC: “In my eyes, you have always been……”

For a while, I struggled to find the appropriate word. I wondered if I should describe him as pragmatic or strong.

MC: “You look like… you won’t have the same worries I do.”

Xu Mo sensed the hesitation in my eyes and asked me seriously.

Xu Mo: “What kind of worries does ‘the same worries’ refer to?”

His tone was gentle and slow, mingling with a hint of mirth. Clearly, he already understood the answer to this question.

I had wanted to crack a joke with him, but when I saw the look of anticipation in his eyes, I could not help but confess what was in my heart instead.

MC: “No matter what kind of people you meet, what situations you encounter, or where you go, you will inadvertently think of one person…”

“The inability to control your own thoughts and feelings… this lack of freedom.”

Xu Mo: “……”

With a smile on his lips, Xu Mo slowly switched his sights to gaze upon the ceiling.

A soft, pure white cloud came into view. The blues of the sky and the whites of the cloud interlaced, reflecting a sense of long lost peacefulness and brightness in his deep, pool-like eyes.

Xu Mo: “Mm, they are indeed the same worries.”

At this moment, I unhurriedly opened my own letter. I did not know if it was due to our chemistry or if were a mere coincidence, but there were also three words written on it.

Xu Mo: “Lack of fear.”

When Xu Mo read the three words aloud, I could not help but laugh as well.

MC: “Why did you read it so hesitantly? Are you worried that I was feeling wronged when I wrote this?”

Xu Mo did not speak, but his knitted brows still revealed the tacit attitude he had towards my words.

MC: “It’s not like that at all.”

“At that time, I thought—no matter what happened afterwards, I would face everything willingly.”

I paused for two seconds, worried that I was speaking a little too seriously. As such, I showed Xu Mo a faintly silly smile.

MC: “Mm… either way, there is nothing left for me to be afraid of. Everything is fine.”

At my easy-going tone, the frown between Xu Mo’s eyes deepened.

He avoided my searching gaze as his eyes revealed his shifting thoughts. At last, he responded to me with his usual smile.

Xu Mo: “There’s still some milk tea left. Want to bring it up?”

My intuition told me that there was definitely a discrepancy between what he understood and what I conveyed.

I quickly grabbed onto him, wanting to express my feelings clearer.

Xu Mo: “What’s wrong?”

Xu Mo lightly brushed a strand of hair from my forehead and tucked it behind my ears, gazing upon me with his usual gentleness.

Xu Mo: “Is there anything else that you want me to bring up?”

I held onto his face and stared into his eyes directly.

MC: “The lack of fear that I’m talking about doesn’t merely refer to the fact that I’m not afraid of putting all my trust in you…”

“Rather, it means that I’m not afraid of anything.”

“I’m not afraid of the secrets that you hide, nor am I afraid of accepting the real you.”

“I’m not afraid of walking towards you, towards all the setbacks and bumps in the road that we must overcome—”

“And I’m not afraid of being with you, or the responsibilities and costs that I have to bear along with it.”

“Nothing else matters. Being able to meet you, and being able to have this moment with you—this is already good enough.”

Once I have finished saying it all in one breath, I realised that my heart was beating faster than usual.

Truthfully, these words should have been spoken much earlier. Once I have confirmed my own feelings, I should have told him everything…

Just like the answer hidden in the envelope, the time to unseal it had been a long time coming.

Xu Mo looked at me quietly, his eyes revealing a surprise that I have never seen before.

Hot steam was swirling out of the cup of hot tea, the bitter and sweet aroma of tea scattering in the air.

For a while he was silent, his eyebrows slightly furrowing.

Xu Mo: “In your eyes, am I some kind of big bad guy?”

“Why do you need to gather up this much courage to be with me?”

“Having to overcome setbacks, having to bear the costs…”

“Is it really this tough?”

Xu Mo spoke, showing a very troubled expression.

Xu Mo: “Actually, I thought that your lack of fear was the same as my own lack of fear.”

He pretended to be all mysterious, drawling when he spoke the last of his sentence. I could only play along with him and continued asking.

MC: “This same kind of lack of fear… what kind of lack of fear is it?”

Xu Mo suddenly pulled me into his embrace, whispering closely into my ear.

His voice was like the hazy clouds—gently spreading across my heart as it dispersed, and a ray of sunlight came shining through after the rain.

Xu Mo: “With you in front of me, I am not afraid of anything—this lack of fear.”

[aion-rsa]

The Mandalorian Season 3 Predictions: What to Expect

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This Star Wars: The Mandalorian article contains spoilers.

After eight exciting episodes of adventures all over the galaxy far, far away, The Mandalorian season 2 has come to an end. A daring rescue mission brings Mando, Bo-Katan, and the rest of their crew face to face with the evil Moff Gideon, who has worked all season to capture Grogu for nefarious purposes. What ensues is a battle to the death that includes lots of stormtroopers, killer dark troopers, and even a clash of blades. But even after that fight was over, no one could have seen the finale’s massive cameo coming.

Luke Skywalker swoops in on his trusty X-wing to save the day, just as the heroes are cornered by a platoon of dark troopers on the bridge of Gideon’s cruiser. Like a true Jedi Master, Luke easily fights his way through the Imperial combat droids, slicing his way to the bridge with his green-bladed lightsaber, putting an end to Gideon’s forces once and for all.

Stream your Star Wars favorites right here!

But Luke’s arrival on the show is bittersweet as it also means Mando’s time with Grogu has come to an end. With Luke taking Grogu away to train the little Jedi, you might be wondering where this leaves things for The Mandalorian season 3? What’s next for Mando and his friends, and when might we see Grogu next?

Here are some of the things you should expect from season 3:

The Liberation of Mandalore

It’s pretty clear by the end of season 2 where Mando, Bo-Katan, and Koska Reeves are headed next. Now that they’ve taken control of the Imperial cruiser and an arsenal of weapons, reacquired the Darksaber, and captured Gideon, the heroes seem to have everything they need to finally liberate Mandalore from the Empire.

It wouldn’t be surprising if the Mandalorian homeworld were the very first stop of season 3, as the stage seems set for a pretty large battle worthy of a season premiere. And we know Mando is along for the ride since he promised in the season 2 finale that he’d fight for Bo-Katan’s cause in exchange for her help rescuing Grogu.

In fact, Mando’s participation in the liberation of Mandalore seems mandatory at this point since he’s technically the rightful wielder of the Darksaber…

Darksaber Drama

…which makes him the new Mand’alor, the leader of the entire Mandalorian race. And as a cackling Gideon explains in the season 2 finale, the blade can only be won in battle, which means Bo-Katan will have to fight Mando for the Darksaber if she hopes to rule Mandalore once again. As reluctant as Mando is to keep the weapon, offering it to Bo-Katan several times, she can’t just take it, apparently.

These Darksaber rules of succession are a bit of a retcon since Bo-Katan first acquired the weapon when Sabine Wren awarded it to her on Star Wars Rebels. They didn’t actually fight for it, and she seemed fine with that then. But I guess Mando simply handing Bo-Katan the Darksaber isn’t quite as dramatic for a high-profile Disney+ series.

How this Darksaber drama might be resolved is anyone’s guess, but judging from the way Bo-Katan coolly stares at Mando as he holds the blade in the finale, it’s unlikely that she’ll move on from getting the weapon back. Does this mean Mando and Bo-Katan are going to become enemies in season 3?

One thing that does seem clear is that season 3 won’t see Mando ascend the throne of an entire planet. Not only does Mando have zero interest in keeping the Darksaber but the show’s structure wouldn’t really allow for this kind of story development anyway. The Mandalorian has found a lot of success by stringing together largely standalone episodes that see the protagonist hop from place to place, completing bounties and helping other characters he meets along the way. Making Mando ruler of Mandalore, and therefore stranding him on the planet for most of the season, seems like an unnecessary shift in storytelling.

Where’s Grogu?

Although The Mandalorian season 2 seemed to conclude Grogu’s story on the show, it’s unlikely Disney will bench the show’s most beloved character for very long. Even if he doesn’t appear alongside Mando throughout season 3, we could get at least one episode that continues the little Jedi’s story and shows where Luke and Grogu went after their meeting on the Imperial cruiser.

While the first few episodes of season 3 could focus on the liberation of Mandalore and the direct aftermath of Bo-Katan’s mission, the show could give Mando a reason to go searching for Grogu once again, picking up Luke’s trail and following it around the galaxy. It’s also possible that Luke could bring Grogu back to the bounty hunter if the little Jedi decided that he wanted to be with Mando instead.

More Thrawn Hints

One of the great things about The Mandalorian is the show’s ability to do quite a lot of world-building while telling an intimate story with just a few characters at the same time. While following Mando and Grogu’s adventures, we’ve learned more about the Imperial remnant, the power vaccuum left in the wake of Jabba’s death on Tatootine, the movement to take back Mandalore, Jedi lore on Tython, the state of the New Republic, and more.

“The Jedi” also gave us a big hint as to where the Disney+ Star Wars universe might be headed: the return of Grand Admiral Thrawn. We learn in arguably the show’s best episode so far that Ahsoka Tano is searching for Thrawn, and that after defeating the Magistrate, she’s one step closer to finding him.

The mere mention of Thrawn’s name likely sent fans of ’90s Star Wars novels into a frenzy, especially those who still hold dear Timothy Zahn’s Heir to the Empire, the book that introduced the Imperial villain and kicked off a new era of storytelling in the galaxy far, far away set after Return of the Jedi. Since The Mandalorian takes place during the same era as Heir to the Empire did in the no-longer-canon Legends continuity, many fans have speculated that “The Jedi” was the start of a rebooted version of the classic Thrawn saga.

Disney also recently announced two other live-action shows set in the time period of The Mandalorian, Rangers of the New Republic and Ahsoka, which will lead into a big event on Disney+. With Ahsoka’s clear ties to Thrawn and The Mandalorian establishing the Imperial remnant, the Grand Admiral’s story could continue to develop on the original Star Wars live-action series before he finally makes his arrival in Ahsoka or that big event.

Read more

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By Megan Crouse

Rangers of the New Republic

Speaking of “The Jedi,” the episode was also the jumping off point for Ahsoka’s very own live-action series, serving as a backdoor pilot that re-introduced the character for general audiences as well as teased out her motivations and future adventures. The Mandalorian season 3 could do the same for Rangers of the New Republic, an upcoming live-action series we currently no nothing about besides the fact that it takes place at the same time as Mando’s adventures and that it has a cool title.

Perhaps Mando runs into the Rangers while on another mission in the Outer Rim? One theory suggests it’ll be a new group of New Republic lawmen led by Cara Dune. We’ll just have to wait and see.

Sabine Wren?

We speculated during the final weeks of season 2 that Rebels protagonist Ezra Bridger could be the Jedi who would find Grogu in the finale. There was some evidence to support this theory. Not only had many other characters from the animated series appeared on The Mandalorian by that point but Ahsoka’s very own storyline on the show was tied to finding Thrawn, who went missing with Ezra at the end of Rebels. It made narrative sense for Ezra to appear on the show as a surprise character who would save the day.

But it wasn’t Ezra who showed up on Gideon’s cruiser to take Grogu away. And now that an Ahsoka series has been announced, it’s more likely that the character will make his debut on that show.

That doesn’t mean one of the other Rebels characters yet to appear on The Mandalorian couldn’t make her debut in season 3. We’re of course talking about Mandalorian warrior and former Rebel operative Sabine Wren, who not only has ties to Ahsoka but also to the Darksaber and Bo-Katan. She fought on Mandalore the last time Bo-Katan and her fellow Mandalorians fought to free the planet from the Imperial puppet government. It would make sense for Sabine to join this new mission to liberate Mandalore and protect the Darksaber.

Crossover Episode with Boba Fett

Disney seems very interested in creating a cohesive shared universe of live-action Star Wars series. Ahsoka really kicked off on The Mandalorian and so did The Book of Boba Fett, the series that will premiere this December ahead of season 3. And what better way to keep that shared universe going than to have crossover episodes between shows? Since Boba Fett has already appeared quite prominently on The Mandalorian, there’s no reason he couldn’t return for an episode on the original Star Wars live-action series.

Another Cobb Vanth Adventure

Timothy Olyphant’s Tatooine marshal was an overnight hit, which makes him a good candidate to become a recurring character on the show. With so much of the show taking place on the legendary desert planet already, it wouldn’t be surprising for Mando to make another stop next season to see what Cobb Vanth is up to. Maybe Freetown is in trouble again and Cobb needs Mando’s help to protect it. Or perhaps Mando recruits Cobb for his crew of gunslingers. Either way is fine as long as we get more Olyphant.

The Mandalorian season 3 goes into production this year and will air after The Book of Boba Fett.

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from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3s3WtD2

[vin-taege]

decaf (m)

summary: taehyung was the cute barista who hated caffeine, yet worked at a coffee shop. you’re a semi-organized college student who’s always late to lectures.

genre: smut, fluff, pwp

pairing: barista!Taehyung x reader

words: 8k+

warnings: baby boy!Taehyung, femdom, accidental nudes, mentioned masturbation, pain kink, grinding, dry humping, oral sex, thigh-riding, fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, degradation, newly discovered mommy kink

note: now freshly edited

Mr. Min’s history class was supposed to be five minutes ago, and the twenty-six year old with the mindset of an eighty-year old hated tardy students. However, you figured you were already late, so why not stop over at the café to pick up your breakfast (which you would also serve as your lunch)? Late nights of completing last minute essays and studying for exams due in two weeks’ time brought you closer to the staff. They’d fix you a small sandwich and a cup of coffee with just one text from you the night before.

Usually, the person in-charge of “VIP” breakfast duty was Kim Taehyung, not that he complained.

It wasn’t like the staff assigned him the task on purpose. There was no way the whole staff knew of his huge, in-depth crush on you and used this as an opportunity to bring you close together.

The bell rang lightly, alerting the arrival of a new customer. Taehyung looked up from behind the counter, almost dropping the sugar packets Jimin had asked him to find. Half of your hair was tossed up in a messy bun, the other half in tangles around your face. One backpack strap was slung over your shoulder, your fluffy hoodie underneath.

Jungkook almost groaned at the heart-eyes his co-worker made for you if it wasn’t for the long line of business men and office workers getting more impatient by the second. Jimin rushed over to Taehyung, visibly distressed with his lack of sugar packets, when he saw who the younger boy was looking at. With a sigh, he grabbed the brown paper back containing your food for the day, and shoved it against the blue-haired boy.

You have been doing this exact routine for almost two years, steadily building up your relationship with the barista. It was so refreshing seeing a friendly face outside of your usual college peers. You friends are deeply loved and appreciated, but seeing them also reminds you of the copious amount of essays all due within the same week. 

“Good morning!” You have Taehyung a close-lipped smile, still a bit groggy from your late-night study session.

“H-hey, beautiful! I just re-heated your food five minutes ago, so it should still be warm. Thought you would’ve been absent today,” he handed you the paper bag, boxy smile not leaving his face. “Overslept?”

You hummed, taking in the scent of toasted bread, gouda cheese, and bacon. “Unfortunately. Mr. Min would have to endure the catastrophe of my presence being unable to grace his lecture hall,” You threw a hand dramatically over your forehead, ignoring the looks you got from the other customers. After all, you didn’t have to wait in line.

A chuckle rumbled from his throat. “Don’t forget your coffee. I have a feeling you’re gonna need it.”

“That feeling is correct, my good friend. I wouldn’t hold you any longer- don’t want Namjoon scolding you about professionalism again,” you waved him goodbye, exiting the café with the same light bell ring behind you.

You debated running to catch up to at least the last bits of the lecture, but your rough morning rendered your body sluggish, and you ended up walking anyway. Even when you knocked on the door, your professor gave you a pointed glare, to which you returned a sheepish smile to. Fortunately, there was still a free seat near the middle.

Half of the lecture already passed by, but you knew Seulgi would be more than happy to lend you notes. Not that she could say no to you or avoid you, since you dormed with her.

Taking the sandwich out of the paper bag, you realized Taehyung must’ve mistakenly packed two. It was risky to spend excess money on an extra sandwich, especially with rent day coming up, but looking closely into the bag, you were relieved you didn’t have to.

“On me :)” was written on a yellow post-it note, neatly placed on top of the second sandwich. Subconsciously, you smiled, taking a mental note to thank Taehyung later. Min didn’t really mind students eating in class - he did it himself. So, unabashedly, you tucked into the bacon and gouda cheese, while taking notes.

Halfway through, you caught a glimpse of a string of black ink scrawled onto the side of your coffee cup. You put your pen down and turned the cup over, revealing a phone number and a small message under it. “Text me when you’re free, beautiful.”

“___, I would appreciate it if you found my class more interesting than your coffee cup. I already took marks off you for being tardy, don’t make me do it again,” you looked up to see Min staring straight at you. Blushing, you mumbled out a small apology, though it wasn’t your professor that got you flustered, but a certain blue-haired barista.

 “You gave her what?!” Taehyung was ready to rip his hair out, or even fight Jimin at the café parking lot right there, right now, maybe even both. The older barista looked at him over his phone, lollipop still in-between his lips.

“I did you a favour,” he took the candy out with a pop. “I swear, if you silently pine over her for even one more minute, Jungkook will leap over that counter and punch the glass,” he punctuated, jabbing the lollipop at the wide, glass panes of the café.

“Oh my God, she’s going to think I’m some freaky weirdo,” Taehyung muttered, head still in his hands. “Even worse, a stalker.”

Jimin was drowning out the younger one’s ramblings, opting to check his watch instead. Fifteen minutes until break was over. He looked over to Taehyung again, sighing when he still heard his panicked mumbling.

“Tae, nothing bad’s going to happen. You could just tell her I was the one who wrote it, if you want to,” he rolled his tongue over the hardened sugar, artificial coffee flavour washing over his taste buds. “I don’t think you need to though. She definitely likes you back.”

Taehyung’s eyes lit up. He immediately stopped, standing straight. “You think so? I mean, I always knew she was nice to me, but I thought she was nice to everyone, so I didn’t assume-“

“Literally everyone in the café knows about your unspoken mutual pining for each other,” He offered the lollipop to Taehyung. The younger one grimaced at the spit-covered candy and shook his head. “Funny for a person who dislikes coffee to be working in a coffee shop.”

“It has your saliva on it.”

“If it had her saliva on it, you’d bite the whole thing off in a heartbeat,” Taehyung sputtered, making the older boy smirk. “Wow, you’re into that? Kinky boy.”

“Hyung!”

Before Taehyung could further protest, he felt his phone buzz. He shot Jimin a glare before holding a finger up. Confusion, excitement, then an arrow to the heart; Taehyung jolted up, even surprising Jimin himself. “What? What is it?” he moved to glance at the younger barista’s phone, lips curling into a pleased smirk when he saw what was on the screen.

[unknown]: hi it’s ___ :)

[unknown]: thanks for the extra sandwich btw, I really appreciate it

Jimin patted him on the back, words of congratulations flowing through one ear straight out the other. He couldn’t focus on anything else aside from the two texts – both of them already making his day better.

 [cutie barista dude]: hey

[cutie barista dude]: it’s Tae from the café

[cutie barista dude]: u could call me café Tae lol

[cutie barista dude]: or not

[cutie barista dude]: are u busy?

Seulgi puckered her lips, smacking them before squinting harder at the lit screen. “Oh no, honey. He’s a multi-texter. Seems like the clingy type. And ‘café Tae’, really?”

Letting out a sigh, you rolled your eyes at her. “He’s nice. He makes me breakfast almost every day, and he’s actually pretty cute.” Stunning. Awe-striking. Breath-taking. Ethereal. ‘Cute’ was an understatement for this boy’s beauty.

“Just because a man makes you scrambled eggs, doesn’t mean you automatically jump on that dick and ride it into the sunset,” you almost spit your food out, hand thumping your chest to ease the chewed lump down. Seulgi didn’t even bat an eyelash.

“I don’t even like my eggs scrambled.”

“Oh, right. You like them fertilized,” In a blink of an eye, a notebook smacked her straight in the face. A scream of frustration left her, along with whines of how long it took her to do her makeup. Before she had a chance to pry your phone of your hands, you quickly replied.

To [cute barista dude]: nope. We’re on break :)

If you could only see Taehyung now, you’d realize how much of an impact you had on him. It was the café’s dead hours, or the short time frame where there were only one or two customers in the shop, giving the staff a breather. It was during this time almost the entirety of the staff were crammed inside the cleaning closet, circling around Taehyung, and egging him on to ask you out.

And if he only saw you right now, he’d realize how much of an impact he had on you.

It was Hyuna’s threat that got him to pressed send, “Kim Taehyung, if you won’t make a move on her, I will!”

[cute barista dude]: oh, in that case, do you want to maybe hang out tonight?

This time, Seulgi raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. She hummed, drumming her fingers on the social science notebook you threw on her. “I don’t know about you, but if this boy’s as pretty as you say he is, I wouldn’t pass the opportunity up.”

It was rare whenever you listened to Seulgi, since she’s the personification of bad advice. However, she had a point; you were in dire need of a break, maybe even a boyfriend.

You typed in a small text confirming you were available, before standing up to go to your next lecture. Though you were roommates, you only shared one lecture hall with Seulgi – history. She walked next you in the hallways, still gushing about your “mini impromptu date” tonight.

“Just know that I’ll be holed up in my room all night. We have a thesis defense in three days, so if you want to take him out for a ride, don’t do it in our dorm.” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, making you laugh.

 Taehyung was a nervous wreck. Maybe Jimin was right about him turning into a walking nervous system whenever he was with you. He didn’t even know what got into him, or where he got the sudden burst of confidence from.

All he knew was that it worked; because somehow, you were in his house, pressed against him, eating pizza while some surprisingly well-produced horror movie played in the background. You munched contentedly on your slice, snuggling into the warmth radiating from the lean boy.

“You know, when you said ‘hang out’, I expected like a park, or a restaurant. What I got was way better,” you smiled up at him.

Taehyung had to pretend his heart didn’t just sink, then explode back to life in a matter of milliseconds. “I was a little stumped with what movie to pick. Couldn’t choose between,” he took a glance at the DVD cover. “- El Orfanato and Your Name.”

“Your Name? Didn’t take you for a romance-anime type of guy.”

“My co-worker is. I saw it once with him, and it was really good though,” He shuffled closer to you, pulling the blanket over your bodies. You shifted in your seat, turning your body so you laid on top of him.

It was silent for a while. The only sound was the occasional Spanish from the film and your soft breathing. The fact that it wasn’t the usual rom-com or shallow-plotted movie – the usual picks for Netflix and Chill – really shed a light on how Taehyung genuinely wanted you to unwind with him, and not just get into your pants.

The movie itself was actually interesting. Knowing Taehyung was someone who had a passion for arts and photography, you didn’t expect any less from his taste.

“How did you find this film?” you murmured into his t-shirt. He shrugged, trembling fingers tapping rhythmically on your back.

“Watch Mojo list,” you threw your head back in laughter, him giggling with you.

“Heathen,” you managed to say in between breaths. “And I thought you were a man of class.”

“God forbid I actually take you out based on a Watch Mojo video. I like underrated films, the type that isn’t easy to find. I thought you might’ve wanted to take a break from cheap jumpscares and slasher gore.”

You hummed, “This is a nice change. I could get used to you taking me out.”

Red blossomed from his cheeks, heart soaring at the implication. “Oh, how convenient. I could get used to that too.” He cleared his throat, trying to meet your sparkling eyes. “Maybe I should start making you lunch too, aside from breakfast.”

“Like a date?”

The cola burned his nasal cavities, some of it spewing out his nose and mouth when he quite literally choked on it. Hurriedly, you thumped his back, voicing out your concern as he coughed his lungs out. Taehyung wished the ground would just swallow him whole. There was cola over his shirt and hands. Not to mention, half of his face was a sticky mess. He groaned, covering his face in shame.

“I’m sorry. That was very disgusting, I’m so sorry,” he sounded like he was about to cry.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, really. Are you okay now?”

He gave a half-hearted nod. “Can we just pretend that never happened?”

You took some tissue from your bag and started wiping his face. Although it was pretty funny, you gave into him – you will never speak of the incident.

“Were you serious about going on a date with me?” he asked bashfully after an awkward period of silence.

“Why not? You’re a great guy, and I’d love to know more about the cute barista making me breakfast each morning. You know, outside your pre-established, in-depth nerd persona,” His mood was quickly lifted, though his smile still didn’t reach his eyes. “I need you to smile for me though.”

“But I am,” he whined. Admittedly, he was still embarrassed by the previous stunt he pulled. Fortunately, you could see right through him. You pounced at his sides, fingers scrambling all over his tummy. Taehyung yelped, wriggling away from you. Even though he was half your size, and can easily push you off, he decided to let you have your fun.

In the midst of trying to tickle him, you pressed your palm into his crotch, the action going unnoticed as you straddled him. Taehyung however, noticed it all too well. His eyes widened, and he begged himself not to pop a boner with you sitting right on top of him.

He couldn’t forget it, even after you’ve gone home and it was just a black screen on the TV. He couldn’t forget it even as he was cleaning up, finding himself with warm water running down his back, phone placed by the sink, the echo of a slow saxophone beat filling the room.

The heat and thoughts of your hand wrapped around him, mouth taking in his length, sent blood rushing to his head. Your scent still lingered at the back of his mind, pretty eyes looking up at him through your lashes. Jimin would tease him for jacking off just after the first date. Was it even considered a date? After all, he said ‘hang out.’

Nevertheless, he grunted as he wrapped his hand around himself. Placing a steady hand on the shower wall, he shuddered, teasing himself with slow strokes before getting faster and faster. He closed his eyes and leaned into the wall, drowning himself in the thought of you.

Taehyung let out a groan, bucking into his hand. The warm water poured heavily on him as he slowly got closer to release. Chasing his high was an easy task; his mind was filled with thoughts of you moaning as he buried himself deep in you, the way you’d whimper under him, your breathy whines. Pre-cum was steadily flowing out his dick, his fingers getting sticky from it before the water would wash it away.

He let out low grunts, breaths getting heavier. Almost there. Just as he was about to release, the buzzing of his phone cut through the music. Huffing, he thought twice whether to continue or not, but decided against it. The text might’ve been important, especially since Namjoon hinted towards a promotion last week.

Head still reeling from his self-denied orgasm, he clumsily wiped his hands on the towel, hands still slightly wet. He trudged over to the sink, fumbling with his phone. The water dripping off his hands made it difficult to press the right buttons, and after two times of accidentally exiting to the home screen, he heard a camera snap, accompanied by a flash bouncing off the mirror.

“Shit.”

Taehyung put his phone down, thoroughly wiping his hands off this time. As soon as he deemed them dry enough, he checked his messages – only to come close to fainting.

To [Goddess]: photo sent

The picture was slightly blurry, but clear enough to make out what was going on in it. It was a mirror selfie. The flash did a good job of covering his face and most of his shoulders, but not too much of his lower body. His dick, still hard and even redder then before, stood against his stomach, water still dripping off his body.

To [Goddess]: I’m sorry I didn’t mean to do that I swear im not a creep please don’t hate me I fully understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore or if you want to break up with me im so sorry oh my god

To [Goddess]: I mean I assume we’re already together-together?? I don’t know, then again, im so sorry please ignore that picture forever

[Goddess]: seen

Fuck.

He really was the unluckiest guy in the world. The relationship started quickly and ended quickly, all because of a nude. He didn’t even know if he could face you tomorrow when you pick your breakfast up. Fuck indeed.

 On your end, it was definitely a surprise. Shocking? Yes. Unexpected? Definitely – you never would’ve anticipated it from Taehyung. However, unwanted? No. Hard no. As hard as his dick.

He was mouth-watering, a true monster by the sheer size and girth. Your cheeks heated up, tongue flicking over your lips. You clenched your thighs together, trying to seek friction under your flimsy shorts.

You had been snuggled up in bed, a good night text just sent to your possible future boyfriend when he had sent you this gem. You would’ve felt bad for him, the frenzied texts sent immediately after making your heart melt, but you were way too turned on to reply.

The thoughts of his large hands roaming your body, cupping your breasts, distracted you. The thought of him being the dominant one was worth contemplating - if he was, then you’d have no problem switching from time to time. You wanted to ride him, slide down that enormous length. If it looked that big in picture, you couldn’t even imagine its size in the flesh.  

You went to sleep that night tired from the pillow humping, but extremely satisfied with your orgasm. If you only knew Taehyung didn’t get to reach his own, you would’ve laughed; all good things are worth waiting for. You couldn’t wait to have your way with him – he was a strong baby boy, you could tell just from how pliant he was when it came to you.

The reply you typed out was forgotten and left unsent.

 There was no trace of Taehyung the next day. Jungkook was the one to hand over your breakfast, much to your disappointment. No offense to him – you had a soft spot for the kid – but you really wnted to see your starry-eyed boy today.

“Hey where’s Tae?”

Jungkook gave you an uneasy look. Nervously, he glanced towards the back of the room, where the kitchen was. Through the large connecting window, you could see a mop of blue hair weaving in between the metal stands.

“He’s on kitchen duty,” he blurted out, snapping your attention back to him. “I mean, he’s not here. He’s sick. Ask Jimin!”

With that, he chucked the coffee stirrers under the counter and scrambled off. Just as he stepped foot into the kitchen, Jimin went out, mid-yawn in a flour-smeared apron. You smashed the service bell repeatedly. Thank God the café had less people in the morning on Saturdays.

Jimin shot you an exasperated look, begrudgingly trudging over to you. He gave you his best “Employee of the Month” smile. “How may I help you?”

“May I speak to one of your employees at the back?”

“Taehyung is on kitchen duty.”

“Jimin, we both know Taehyung can’t even boil an egg,” you hissed, leaning farther on the counter, your nose almost touching his. Jimin bit his lip – you were right. Why did they even come up with that stupid excuse?

“Okay, fine. As far as I know, he’s beyond humiliated. He thinks you hate him. Ever since this morning, the only thing he’s been talking about is how much he hates his dick.”

You didn’t know whether your heart melted or ached for him. Men, in one way or another, can be adorably stupid and naïve. You tongued your cheek, considering your options. There was the choice of storming in the kitchen right there, right now, to confront Taehyung personally; but you didn’t want that going down your student record, especially since vacation’s just a month away. You muttered a quick thank you, turning to walk back to your dorm.

To [baby boy]: Meet me after your shift. I’ll be staying at my usual spot. Don’t even think of avoiding me.

 Five minutes until the end of his shift, and here Taehyung was; in the bathroom, washing his hands for what will be the fourth time. He was practicing what he was going to say to you, apart from giving himself a tiny pep talk in an attempt to boost his confidence.

Your last text glared at him from the screen. An overwhelming feeling of déjà vu hit him when he found himself in front of the bathroom sink, staring at the mirror again. Three loud knocks on the door made him flinch.

“Lover boy, your girl’s been waiting for you for about two hours now,” Jimin’s voice rang through the other side of the door.

“Just a minute,” The mere thought of him seeing you again just after he sent an unsolicited dick pic made him shiver. Lost in his cluttered thoughts, he didn’t even notice he left the door unlocked.

Jimin pushed open the door, letting out an exasperated sigh when he saw Taehyung looking blankly into the mirror. “For God’s sake, man up and just get it over with.”

When he saw the younger boy’s shoulders slump further, his gaze softened. He didn’t really take Taehyung’s situation seriously, not until he saw how much it upset him.

“Hey,” he walked closer, nudging the tan boy’s elbow. “If she really hated you, she would’ve left an hour ago.”

Taehyung scoffed, though a small smile played on his lips, encouraging Jimin to continue. “We both know ___. If anything, she might’ve thought it was a bit funny. Hell, she might’ve liked it.”

“Hyung!” he was flustered beyond relief, delivering hit upon hit to the older boy. “Don’t say that about her!”

“Just go out there, okay? Sort things out with her.”

He came out in a white undershirt he wore under the cafe’s light beige, long-sleeved uniform. You were down to your third croissant and fourth coffee when he spotted you. The nearer he got, the more he saw cluttered papers spread on he desk, the one you’re working on decorated with different highlighters. Blue for people, yellow for terms, green for dates - you had told him your color legends back then. 

The chair was dragged back, making you flinch in surprise. Taehyung, despite his height, seemed to shrink in his seat. His hands were folded neatly on his lap; you didn’t have to peek under the table to know his legs were spread wide, thick things just barely fitting on the chair space. 

You slid the pastry over to him, capped the highlighter, and melted back into your seat. Your bones let out a satisfying crack when you stretched; Taehyung was right about taking breaks in between study sessions. 

“Hey,” he offered, picking up a fork to lightly stab at the croissant. 

“Are you avoiding me?” His wide eyes met yours, eyebrows knit together. He resorted to lightly scraping at the side of the plate instead. 

“Don’t you find it weird?”

“Find what weird?”

“I don’t know. Maybe how you saw my... thing just hours ago, and now we’re here, pretending everything’s perfectly normal. Don’t you hate me? I literally acted like a fuckboy.”

You snorted, throwing your head back in laughter. He just stared at you in confusion. “No, what the hell? You are the opposite of a fuck boy. And you sent about ten apology texts right after. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“So you’re not mad?” He leaned forward, mouth brought into a pout. Pinching his cheek lovingly, you chuckled. 

“No. We can just pretend it never happened,” You winked, quoting his words from the cola incident. He quickly recognized them, groaning from more embarrassment. 

“Why do you do this to me?” he moaned, but didn’t pull away from your touch. “Is this the karma I get because of that WatchMojo list?”

“You did get it from a WatchMojo list!” you gasped, chucking him a highlighter - which he caught with no problem. “Talk about top ten anime betrayals.”

The atmosphere seemed to relax after that. Taehyung finally began eating the croissant, much to your doting. He sat up straight in his chair, compelled by the need to impress you, while also giving out a “no big deal” attitude. 

The conversation shifted to your current situation at university. You couldn’t resist telling him about your history professor - Mr. Min and his seemingly endless collection of ties, plus rumors of his friends-with-benefits relationship with Mr. Jung, the biology teacher in the next building. 

“Wait but, oh my God, I think he’s actually cool? We were going to watch a film for the whole period, and he accidentally clicked on the wrong thing. And guess what?”

“What?” Taehyung’s eyes were wide like a kid’s in a toy shop.

“It was his mixtape! I swear it was! The guy rapping sounded exactly like him.”

“No way! Isn’t this guy, what, thirty?” He crinkled his nose in disbelief. You waved him to move closer. getting your phone out to show him the video evidence you secretly took. Even if you filmed the whole thing in plain sight, Mr. Min would’ve been too busy frantically pulling every extension cord to notice.

Scrolling through your gallery with Taehyung by your side, you froze, spotting a fresh, all too familiar picture just before the video. You skipped a beat, before swiftly tapping on the video, careful not to tap the nude you saved. Hopefully, Taehyung didn’t see it, the singular picture sitting among other pictures of lectures and notes. 

You pretended to concentrate hard on the video, as if it was the most interesting thing you’ve ever watched. Taehyung leaned closer, his broad chest pressing against a part of your back. You could feel his breath fanning over your neck, the feeling doubling each time he laughed. In a way, it assured you he didn’t see anything. You sunk back into him, trying to get more comfortable.

“He isn’t bad,” he murmured. From the black spaces on the screen, you met his brown eyes, a sultry look hiding behind the mischievous crinkles. You gulped, nervousness starting to crawl its way back in. 

As soon as the video stopped, you locked your phone and shoved it back in your bag. “I just remembered, we actually have a test tomorrow so I better go-”

“Can I come with you?” You stared at Taehyung, mouth hung open. He had a serious expression on, emotions unreadable behind his piercing gaze. “I could help you review.”

“That... wouldn’t be necessary. I could really do it myself. Plus, you look tired and I think you should re-”

“No. I insist,” His lips curled into a smile, almost daring. He leaned closer, lips just centimeters away from your ear. “I think we need to talk some more.”

The ding of the elevator signaled you it was already your floor. Thank God Seulgi was out for a group project tonight. The history test was partly a lie; you definitely remembered, but had already reviewed. Miraculously, you managed to get your sleep schedule under control, while also studying everything you needed to study. Taehyung would be proud.

Speaking of, he has now claimed his spot on your couch, less than gracefully plopping down. At least he had the decency to leave his shoes neatly by the coat rack. 

“So, what’s your topic?” You laid your notebooks down on the table, the post-it notes wedged between the pages almost falling out. You set the table up first, Taehyung’s question dissolving into thin air. Instead, he resorted to flipping through some of the pages, gnawing on his lips with each bit of information he took in. 

“That’s a lot,” His whisper didn’t leave unnoticed. You perked up, flashing him a mocking grin. “I thought you said you insisted?”

Immediately, his face burned red, resembling that of a child whenever he throws a tantrum. “I did! It’s just a lot, okay? Even I don’t take this much notes. How many pens do you go through in a day?”

You rolled your eyes, picked up your self-made flashcards - which really were just small, index cards scrawled on with gel pen - and handed them to Taehyung. “Quiz me with dates first, then we’ll work our way through important people and events.”

He fumbled with the cards for a while, taking a brief glance on each of them, before straightening them out and facing the “answer” sides of the cards away from you. “Great Depression?”

Your pace in answering was pretty quick, so in order to trick him into thinking you’ve just memorized it, you had to slow down, throw a few “uhm’s” and “hm’s”. There were times you’d get a question wrong on purpose to make the act more believable. 

Slowing down the pace wasn’t too difficult too. He was so distracting, in a way. He couldn’t be doing anything and he’d still be the most attractive person in the room. His hair fell lightly by his brows, cheeks full and glowing like his sun-kissed skin. The shirt he wore was a size too large for him, the neckline dipping just above his chest, showing his parts of his collarbones. 

The mass of index cards was thinning out when a particular question snapped you out of your daze.

“What was that picture in your gallery?” Taehyung’s eyes were trained on you, the flashcards still in his hand. You prayed you weren’t blushing right now.

“What picture?”

“The picture. You know what I’m talking about,” His serious expression slowly cracked, a smile coming through, along with a darkening gaze in his eyes. “You saved the picture I sent, didn’t you?”

Before you could think twice about it, you had chucked him a pillow, Taehyung effortlessly dodging it. “No! No, I didn’t! What the hell, Tae?”

Instead, his grin grew wider. He threw the cards on the table, and began crawling near you. You shuffled farther back into the couch, one of the armrests eventually hitting your back. He had you pinned down. 

“I saw it, ___. Don’t even deny it,” He licked his lips, the stupid smirk still on his face. “You liked the picture, didn’t you, ___?”

His voice was low, eyes piercing into your very soul. Instead of replying, you slipped a hand around his nape, bringing him closer then smashing your lips together. His lips felt like cotton on yours, and you treated them as such, licking the soft flesh to ask for permission. 

He parted his lips, granting you access. You let yourself explore the cavern of his mouth, engaging his tongue in a battle of dominance. Naturally, he let you win. You drew back for a split second, only to say, “Little brat.”

You heard him snicker, before connecting your lips once more. You wrapped a leg around his waist, bringing him closer to you. Your hands busied themselves by tangling them in his hair. In all the haze of the steamy kiss, you felt him growing under his pants. 

You pressed your foot more forcefully against him, making his crotch press into yours. The uncomfortableness of his jeans could be felt by how hard his cock was straining against it. You wrapped your other leg around him, then brought your lower half up, grinding straight into his erection. 

He groaned into the kiss, pulling away only to focus on your neck. He left a trail of love bites, hues of purple and blue, coming from your jawline to the base of your neck. You continued grinding into him, with slow, hard rolls of your hips. His head lolled downwards, slotting into the curve of your neck. His increasingly heavy pants could be heard, no matter how hard he tried to conceal them under the guise of nipping on your neck.

A light sheen of sweat was starting to cover you. The leather of the couch felt sticky on your skin, but it felt too good to pull away from. You allowed yourself to let out only a few long, groans, careful not to show him how much you’re loving this.

Your panties already felt soaked. The button of his jeans would get caught in the thin material of your shorts, rubbing against your clit. You jerked into him, borderline humping his boner. 

Somehow, you still had your presence of mind, and you had to remind yourself to calm down. Shakily planting your feet on any flat surface you could feel, you pulled your hips away from him, eliciting a whine from the boy. 

“You look uncomfortable there, sweetheart,” you said, hands working to unbuckle his belt. You took it off, unbuttoning his jeans too. Instead of releasing him already, you slid your hand in his boxers, squeezing the rock-hard length lightly. He screwed his eyes shut, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. 

Your other hand pushed at his chest, steering him into a new position. He sat on the couch, feet planted on the ground while your straddled him. You brought your hips down again, his boxers being the only material separating you from his cock. 

“Help me get this off, baby,” You murmured, about to shrug your shirt off. He shed you off the material at once, flinging it to the side. Then, he started grabbing at your shorts, running his hands around your ass too. With two, swift tugs, your shorts were pooling at you knees. 

As soon as he got them off, he grabbed at your hips, forcing you to grind on his clothed cock again. You slid one of your hands from his hair, touching the broad expanse of his chest, his toned stomach, until you reached his boxers. You slipped your hand, fingers wrapping around his cock, making him gasp into your mouth.

You gave him a couple light strokes, before pressing your hand flat against the head of his cock, then digging your palm into him. He threw his head back in a groan, grip getting looser on your hips until he was back in his original position, head buried in your neck. 

The room felt hotter, more humid even. Taehyung’s hair began to stick to his forehead the more he leaned into your touch. The picture wasn’t lying to - even without seeing him yet, you already knew he was big. His girth alone made it difficult for you to wrap your fingers around the entirety of him. 

Each jerk of his hips into your palm sent more pre-cum dripping out his cock. You angled your hand a little so that you could thumb lightly at his slit, spreading the pre-cum over the head. He was leaking so much that a wet patch started to form on his boxers. You knew the wet fabric sticking to his skin might make him uncomfortable, but you waited before making him take it off. You wanted him to suffer for a bit.

After letting him grind himself into your palm, you switched tactics and instead, gripped the base of his cock, jerking him off rapidly. His whines sent shivers down your spine, made you gush more into your already ruined panties. 

More pre-cum dripped down his cock, coating his entire length. It was easy for you to tug on his cock, but you didn’t want to make him come yet. You retracted your hand, wiping off the slick on his sweat-covered chest. “Take it off.”

He almost fell off the couch in his eagerness to get the fabric off. By the time he did, the mess in his pants was on full display. His cock sprung into his stomach, twitching when air hit it. There was pre-cum reaching until the top of his thighs, smeared all over the area surrounding his dick. 

“Do you want me to clean that up for you?” You purred into his ear. A choked sob made its way out of his abused lips while he profusely nodded. “Sit properly, my messy baby.”

Taehyung got off you, sitting on the couch with his legs spread wide. You placed yourself on the floor, kneeling before him. With one hand, you grasped his leaking cock, licking a strip from his balls up to the tip. He sighed out in relief when you licked the tip, before taking in the head of his cock. 

You sucked hard on his cock, the bitter taste of pre-cum filling your taste buds. He shuddered at the feeling of your warm mouth around him, tongue pressing firmly against his cock. A sudden jerk of his hips sent his cock hitting the back of your throat. 

Gagging, you slapped the inside of his thigh harshly. He whined, murmuring a quick apology. You rolled your eyes at him, sinking farther down his cock, until your nose nestled between his fine hairs.

You trailed your nails down his thighs, trying your best to relax your throat. Taehyung was taking in big gulps of breath, arousal flooding him when he saw you innocently looking back at him. “Baby, can I fuck your mouth?”

You hummed in approval, guiding his hands to your hair. With a tight grip, he pushed your head firmly against his pubic bone, before holding you in place and thrusting deep into your mouth. 

He hit the back of your throat each time he bucked his hips towards you. His head was thrown back, swimming in pleasure. A wanton of moans filled the room, along with your lewd gagging. His fingertips burned at your scalp, grip so tight his knuckles turned white. 

Desire coursed through your veins. You could faintly feel your essence dripping down your thighs, your fingers itching to insert themselves into your throbbing pussy. However, you wanted to focus on the writhing boy in front of you for now. 

He felt so big - was so big.  You could feel him down your throat, cock squeezing through the tight confines. Saliva trailed down your mouth as you dig your nails into the soft flesh of his thighs.

“Ah! A-ah fuck! You feel so good,” His thrusts were turning sloppy, the need to come burning at the pit of his stomach. He gritted his teeth in an attempt to hold his release, chest heaving slowly, a pleading look in his eyes once he stared down at you. “Can I, please?”

In response, you swallowed around him, sending him headfirst into his orgasm. Hot spurts of his cum shot down your throat, the rest falling on your lips when he pulled out. You coughed a little, before licking your lips and swallowing the remaining drops of his cum. Finally, you released your grip from his thighs, admiring the red marks left on the tan skin.

His thighs were still quivering, breath shaky. Taehyung was still reeling from his orgasm, giving you an opportunity to sit yourself on his thighs, hands placed on his chest. “Hm, this looks like a nice spot.”

Taehyung didn’t have time to respond before he felt your hot mouth on his chest, sucking and nibbling on the skin. He whined, but placed his hands on your ass nonetheless. Once you were satisfied, you pulled away to admire your work - a purplish mark sitting nicely above his collarbone.

“You didn’t get to cum,” He pouted almost cutely at you. Chuckling, you re-positioned yourself so you were sitting with his thigh between your legs. You brought your hips down, clit brushing against his thigh. “Don’t worry, I will.”

With his strength gradually coming back, he flexed his thigh, providing you a firmer surface to grind on. Your arousal coated his thigh, making it easier to buck your hips into him. His hands were still on your ass, helping you ride his thighs. 

You brought your lips against his again, puling him in for an open-mouthed kiss. You moaned into his mouth, his tongue finding its way into yours. 

Suddenly, you gasped; Taehyung slipped two fingers into your wet pussy, arching the long digits to rub against your g-spot. You groaned, increasing your pace and begun bouncing up and down his thigh. 

He thrust his fingers in, reaching spots so deep inside you, shooting sparks through you. One of your legs brushed his already hardening cock, making him flinch in overstimulation. The action caused him to draw his thigh away, cutting you off from your pleasure.

Abruptly, you stopped. You tugged his head back and forced his jaw open, spitting inside his mouth. He swallowed it immediately, big eyes looking back at you in arousal and slight fear. “Stay still or else I’ll grind my foot into your pathetic little cocklet.”

The movement was fast, just from the corner of your eye, but you caught it. His dick had twitched. The moment you put two-on-two together, you smirked down at him. He bit hard down his bottom lip, relishing your words. 

Of course you didn’t mean it. Obviously, he was nowhere near having a cocklet, but his reaction pushed you to kept going. If he wanted to feel small, you’ll make him feel small. “Dumb baby. The only thing you know is to fuck, right? Can’t even control your fucking cock. Much less stay still for me. You’re just such a needy bitch, huh?”

This time, he let out a long groan. Tears threatened to fall from the corners of his eyes. He was babbling, didn’t have enough presence of mind to form a coherent sentence. “Mouth... My mouth- baby- pl-please. C-Cum.”

“You have to use your big boy words, honey.”

He took a deep breath, mouth slack for a few moments. A strained moan made its way through his lips. “P-Please cum on my face?”

“You have to try better than that,” You sighed, feigning indifference. With another whine, he said, “Please, mommy, please cum on my face. I want mommy to feel good. I want to taste mommy please.”

“Lie on the floor.”

He scrambled on his feet, in a rush to lie down on the cold, hard surface. He grimaced at first when the cool marble hit his skin, but all discomfort he had melted off when you settled both knees on either side of his head. You knelt facing his cock. “Use your mouth.”

You lowered your hips, letting your pussy meet his lips. He lapped at your wetness, licking in between your labia, underneath your clit. He latched his lips onto the sensitive nub, sucking hard on it. His hands were wrapped around your thighs, bringing you closer to him. 

Your hands clutched at his hair. You could feel the coil in your stomach about to snap, with only one strong lick from his skillful mouth pushing you over the edge. 

You cried out, thighs spasming, clenching his head against your pussy. You leaned over, grasping his cock and tugging on it harshly. He jerked away from your touch, but your grip was strong. He choked on his sobs as you milked his cock, a smaller amount of cum spurting out his dick. 

You slumped down next to him, both of you panting hard. Taehyung’s tears were freely flowing, every part of him a mess. Some of your cum was still scattered over his face, his cum equally a mess on his thighs and on your hand. His hair was in tangles, lips red from how much you abused them.

“You’re very scary and mean during sex,” He said in a small voice, though his tone was teasing. You looked at him, a small smile on his face. “I liked it.”

You chuckled, gaining your breath back. “Hey,” you touched his forearm. “Let’s go to my room, okay? There’s a proper bed there you can lie down on.”

After you got him a glass of water, you ran a bath in the small tub you had. The bathroom that came with the dorm was small, but one of the only ones that had a tub in it. It was easy to say it was one of your most prized possessions. You mixed the last of your bubble bath formula in, and went back to fetch Taehyung. 

When you got to him, he was huddled under the blankets. Light snores came from his still figure. You nudged him lightly, shaking him awake. “Baby? The bath’s ready.” 

He looked groggily up you before nodding. You held his arm, supporting some of his weight. 

He sighed in relief once the warm water touched his skin. You placed yourself in front of him, leaning onto his chest. You both closed your eyes, feeling yourself relax more in the bath, with each other. You were pressed closely to him, his arms around you. 

“I didn’t go too far, or anything?” You murmured. You were honestly worried you did because he was in such a haze when you were walking him towards the bathroom. 

He hummed, sending vibrations at the top of your head. “It was amazing, promise. You were amazing. And it felt really good.”

“Thank God. I thought I might’ve scared away my potential boyfriend,” He let out  deep chuckle, chest rumbling. 

“I’m not that easy to get rid off, baby. Wait- I’m your boyfriend now? Am I?” His face lit up, mouth in his signature boxy smile. You nodded your head, sporting a wide grin of your own. He did a little fist pump before taking your cheeks in his hands and peppering them with kisses. “I love you so much.”

The morning after, Jimin noticed an unusual glow emqanating from Taehyung. He had the same love-dovey look on his face, only amped up by a hundred. He left his things at the locker room, humming a small song as he smoothed out his uniform. 

“You look especially... dreamy today,” Jimin said to him, two macchiatos in his hand. He shrugged, continuing to work the coffee machines. “I guess you worked things out with ___?”

“Things worked out very well for us,” He set the coffee cups on the tray, along with a some pasta and a sandwich. He picked the tray up, smiling back at Jimin. “You could say did she liked the picture.”

It was one of the rare days you didn’t wake up late. Taehyung had prepared you breakfast while you got ready, and you left for university and work together. Seulgi was, thankfully, still not at home, but she sent you text saying she spent the night over at her group mate’s house. 

If Taehyung remembered it correctly, you were supposed to have History by now. He smiled, knowing you’ll effortlessly ace the exam - thanks to his help of course. 

He finished drying the rest of the plates when his phone buzzed. He excused himself to the employee’s washroom before unlocking it to see a message from you. 

It looked like you were in a bathroom stall. You were wearing your shirt, but your nipples were visibly peeking through the material, stretched ridiculously tight over your boobs. “Thinking of you. Finished the test early.” Your next messaged read.

He gulped. He may not be getting the Employee of the Month award after all, not with how much time he is about to spend in the washroom. 

[experimentaldata]

When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go

A Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood fic. 2748 words. Rated T - Smoking and alcohol mentions, war mention, mild language. Set in Season 1 roughly, pre Maes-Hughes-you know what. 

6:00 PM = Ed

   It was raining again. He hated the rain.

Not as much as the Colonel, of course. It’s not like it rendered him totally useless. But losing his limbs had turned him into a human barometer. Each drop in the pressure meant that his stumps ached, and the the pain usually lasted until the weather changed. He’d woken up the night before from the pain, then slept uneasily until it was time to report for duty that morning, careful not to stir. He didn’t want Al to see how much it hurt him. Al had enough to worry about as it was. And he’d only blame himself. Ed could see the looks Al gave him when he thought he wasn’t looking. So he’d stayed still, and gotten up like he normally did, exuding only his typical amount of grumpiness. Thankfully, their day hadn’t involved a lot of moving around. They’d spent it in the East City library, reading and re-reading alchemy texts until Ed’s eyes ached almost as much as his arm and leg. Lieutenant Hawkeye had borrowed the Colonel’s car to drive them back to their hotel room, and left them with a picnic box for dinner, courtesy of the Hughes.

    Ed ate the entire crock of chicken soup and four whole wheat rolls despite himself. It had been a long day, and the warmth from the food sank into every crevice, warming him inside and out. He described the taste to Al, who added it to the “to eat after my body’s back” list. The pain receded to the background as he ate. In its absence, he felt hollowed out - the tension keeping him on alert had finally let loose. Then it hit him. The wall he had held up all day against fatigue was finally breached. That darned soup. He told Al not to wait up for him, he was just gonna finish some research in their room. And he tried, he really did. Sprawled out on the bed, his jacked and boots tossed over the chair in the corner, he willed his eyes to stay open. Just one more page. Maybe chaper 5 of Complete Biological Processes for Alchemists would have the answer. Maybe if he held his head up. Loosened his collar. Put his head on his arm. Rested his eyes just for a second.

8:00 = Al

    Al hadn’t heard from Ed in awhile. He wondered how long it would take him to fall asleep. Ed thought he could hide it, but Al knew it had been a bad pain day. He always knew. It must’ve been really bad for him to go to bed this early--usually he stayed up at least until he had eaten dessert. The double slice of cherry pie Mrs. Hughes had packed was still on the table though, next to the bottle of milk, both untouched. Al could only imagine how warm and fragrant that pie was. He scribbled a note about it in his food journal, then went to go check on his brother. As he suspected, Ed was sprawled out face-down on the bed, his head laying on his right arm. His shirt was hiked up a bit from tossing and turning, and one of his socks had fallen to the floor. Al shook his head. Sleeping with his tummy out again. And no blanket. He crossed the room softly and laid the blanket from his bed over his brother. Ed didn’t move. Out like a light, he thought.

    He sat down in the chair by Ed’s bedside. It would be nice to sleep himself. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to fall asleep. He remembered so much about what it was like to have a body - he could imagine the taste of foods he’d tried before, the feeling of his favorite clothes and blankets, even smells he liked. Falling asleep, however, was a memory that eluded him - it was something you felt by not feeling anything, after all. But about a year into heir quest to get their bodies back, he had developed a work-around. He couldn’t sleep anymore, at least not like other people. But he could dream. It had started as small bursts of deja vu during the lonely nights he spent watching over Ed. Over time, he had figured out how to enter his memories at will each night, reliving them in a daze until he lost track of time. It wasn’t quite as good as sleeping, but it took him away from this body, and this strange place they were living, if only for a few hours. He leaned back in his chair and looked inward, calling up whatever memory his soul decided to play back for him tonight. And then Winry walked into the classroom, and those boys were teasing her, and he was telling Ed not to--

10:00 = Riza

    Riza felt like a frayed rope. The week had been meetings on top of PT exams on top of paperwork Roy forgot to file. She’d strangle that man, Colonel or not, one of these days. All he had to do was sign his name and save the both of them from a week of heartache and a note to his file. But that might get in the way of his sucking-up time. Stupid state dinners, that sort of thing, she thought with a laugh. She poured herself another ounce of bourbon and sighed. It was getting late. Black Hayate was curled up in her lap, twitching in his sleep every so often. Probably hunting rabbits in his sleep, she thought with a smile. At least one man in my life never lets me down.

    She took a long sip of her drink and sighed, letting her head sink into the back of the chair. No end in sight to all this chaos. Roy’s ambitions of becoming Fuhrer and current position as colonel meant he was forever in strategy meetings, personnel conferences, and diplomatic events. And he always wanted the hawk’s eye there to watch his back. She could read a room faster than he could blink, and their five-minute post-meeting conferences proved more useful than weeks of departmental consulting. Never mind that she had her own men to attend to, and that she was stuck cleaning up the mess after Roy was inevitably late with something, again. And he wonders why I drink, she thought. Well, that was one reason. There were other reasons why she needed help from a bottle to sleep at night. But she wasn’t going to dwell on that. No need to remember the past, in all its technicolor gore and misery. That was then. This was now. Now was a fireplace, and an armchair, and Black Hayate snoring, and her clock chiming - ten o’clock already? Better head to bed, then. Early morning PT drill tomorrow, and she had some new recruits to beat some sense into. Slowly, she peeled herself up from her chair, swaying slightly as Black Hayate jumped down off her lap. She laughed at his little sleepy whine and--was that a hiccough? Damn. She’d had more than she thought. Oh well. Her head was going to hurt tomorrow regardless. She slunk back to her bedroom, undressed down to her undershirt and threw herself into bed.

12:00 = Jean

    What a night. First the cafe, a delectable steak and an even more delectable date. Damn, he thought, flipping over onto his back and pulling the blanket up. She was so hot. His eyes danced across the void of the ceiling as he traced the memory. From the cafe to that dive bar, where she had impressed him with both the quality of her conversation and the quantity of shots she could take down. She could drink him under the table, he thought, if they were going for that. But this was a Thursday night, so they left the bar and went instead to...a dance hall. Jean wasn’t exactly sure how that had happened. But he was sure of how he felt watching her move through the crowd. She had waist-length hair that tumbled down in waves to her waist, swaying as she did in time to the music. He chuckled to himself, and kicked his feet out from under the blanket. Still feeling the warmth from that one, he thought. He hadn’t wanted that night to end. But by eleven, the weeknight crowd had started to thin out, and in the absence of its energy, their conversation had stalled. A few minutes later, he was waving sadly at the bus as she sped off to her apartment. He stumbled back to his, alone.

    He didn’t know what it was about him. Every date he had had for the past long while started out well enough. They would talk, offer a cigarette, maybe get a coffee. Something would spark. They’d go out. And at about the 6-hour-of-acquaintance mark, she’d mumble some excuse about an early morning shift, or an elderly aunt, or...he thought one girl had even made up a kid sister she needed to babysit. Regardless, they’d thank him for the lovely evening, and there he’d be. Sleeping alone, like he always did. He heard the clock in his neighbor’s apartment strike midnight. Tomorrow morning was gonna be rough, he thought. He had to report at--0400? 0430? Sometime. The lieutenant would have his head on a plate if he was late one more time. Sleep. Now. Gotta focus on not focusing, Jean. Don’t focus on falling asleep. Just let it happen. Just breathe. In and out. In. Out. in. out. in...out...

2:00 = Gracia

    Being a mom is hard work, Gracia’s mother had told her. She remembered it well. That day when they had finally made it to her family’s hometown, six months after they found out they were going to have Elysia. Her mom had thrown a big party at her childhood home, and invited all the surrounding friends and relations to stuff themselves on her home cooking and wish the newlyweds well. Gracia joked that she was trying to make everyone as fat-looking as she was to save face. Her mom had just laughed. And that’s when she told her, her eyes blinking back proud tears, how hard it was to be a mom, and how proud she was that Gracia was going to be one. It was one of her favorite memories of her mother. Her mother lived just long enough after that to see her granddaughter one time, on her first birthday. Three generations of her family were under the same roof, for the first and last time she could remember. It was heavenly. With her mother there, it seemed like nothing could go wrong.

    What she wouldn’t give for some of that magical mom power right now, she thought. She could see Elysia’s outline in the doorway, lit from behind by the hall nightlight. Somehow she had woken up right as her daughter crossed the threshold of their room, though she couldn’t hear anything over Maes’ snoring. Must be that special sixth sense moms get. Elysia had thrown up, it turned out. Her little face was stained with tears. She had tried to clean it up herself with her blanket, then stood in the doorway until mommy woke up. She knew she would. She was right. One set of fresh sheets, a warm washcloth, and a changed nightgown later, and her baby girl was tucked into bed again. She looked up at her mother and tugged at her sleeve. Would mommy sleep with her tonight? Gracia sighed. Between the kicking, the stuffed animal tossing, and the sleep talking (she inherited this from her father), sleeping with mommy meant mommy not sleeping much at all. But those brown eyes looked up at her, and Gracia melted the same as she did the first time she saw them. Yes, mommy will sleep here tonight. And now, installed in the toddler bed with her daughter’s feet planted in the small of her back, there was nowhere else she’s rather be.

4:00 = Pinako

    Old age changes a person. It used to be, Pinako thought, shifting to her left side, that she could just look at a bed and fall asleep. A lifetime of hard work will do that to you. She had proudly worked her way through four years of uni, two more of automail training, and another two of apprenticeship without ever missing a night. Early mornings were when she got her best thinking done, anyway. And that’s how it had been for the past forty years. But as she neared seventy, things were changing. She slept fitfully now. Every small noise might wake her up, even the ones she was used to. Tonight, it was the dog barking at heaven only know’s what. She muttered some choice words and eased herself off of the bed. Better go shut that dog up before he wakes up anyone else.

     She found the dog on the porch, holding the freshly-killed mouse he had caught in his mouth. More like a cat, that one was. Well, it was good for him to earn his keep. She patted him on the head and sat down in her rocking chair. She had left her pipe on the end table beside it. Hmph. Getting forgetful in her old age as well as sleepless, she thought. She tamped down the bowl and lighted her pipe, blowing a test smoke ring out into the starry night sky. Yep, still got it. She smiled contentedly and smoked for awhile, the dog curled at her feet. It was quiet out here. A light breeze whispered in the apple trees her and Yuriy had planted so long ago. The pipe got a little too warm, so she set it down and just rocked for a while. Maybe I should just stay out here tonight, she thought. Not like I was getting much sleeping done inside. It was going to be time to get up in a few hours, anyway. Just stay here, keep rocking. Let the wind blow. Stay quiet. Be still. Rock back. And forth. and back. and forth.

6:00 = Roy

    Ishval. All he ever thought about these days was Ishval. The rain wasn’t helping. He had been stuck inside going to meetings all week. Mind-numbing stuff. This is not why he’d signed up to be a state alchemist. All these meetings and paperwork were getting in the way of...what? Sometimes, if he was being honest, Roy didn’t really know. At first, the path had been clear. Take this job, accept this assignment, fill out these forms. Drag yourself through enough mud, they’d assured him, and your gilded cage was waiting for you at the end. So he had, in central command, then at Briggs, and then - Ishval. There were some things you just couldn’t unsee, things that played out again and again on the blank wall you were staring at, trying desperately to put out the fires in your mind so you could sleep.

    Tonight, it was the hospital camp they had taken, early on in the conflict. His superior officer assured him that the wounded were to be taken alive, as prisoners, unless absolutely necessary for the safety of their men. The position they held was valuable, and wounded Ishvalans didn’t pose much of a threat. But of course there’d been complications. It was an ambush. The rebel troops burst at them from all directions, and the order was given to light up the camp. Together, he and Kimblee had reduced the entire area to ash and rubble. They’d celebrated that victory that night, bits of wheelchairs and stretchers littering the ground around their bonfire. Another victory like that might have killed him.

    Roy rolled over to his other side and willed himself to close his eyes. He hadn’t slept a wink all night. Make that the past three nights. Damn, this rain had to stop. He could hear it pattering merrily on the windowsill outside, mocking him. He felt so useless in the rain. Lately, he’d felt useless anywhere. What was this all even for? What was he trying to do? Could a country like Amestris really be saved? Could it come back from the brink of destruction? Could it ever atone for Ishval?

    Just as his mind had given up trying to solve that conundrum, he jerked awake. His clock struck 0600. Time to get up.

[amethystdarkwolf]

Split [Part One]

AU: X Ship: X Prompt: X Requested by: X Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, Sympathetic Remus, Panic/anxiety attacks, angst with a happy ending and yelling. If I missed any Let Me Know!  Summary: Patton gets frustrated with Virgil, as Virgil tries to actually show Thomas again that he is Anxiety that he can be a bad thing. Patton ends up snapping and causes Virgil to split in two, much like Roman and Remus. F/A/H-C:Angst POV: 3rd ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Side Note: This is a two part fic written by both me and @chimchar1009 We hope you enjoy!! Also I stopped doing my taglist, it’s too much work, use my Writing tag ‘Amethystdarkwrites’

[Part Two] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Thomas, you can’t go. You really don’t know what would happen! You know only one person if you would be going! And to a place like that you need to go with a group, there are so many things that could-”  Virgil was cut off, Patton interrupting him. 

“Virgil it’ll be okay! We know what we’re doing and how to be careful, and plus we promised! It’s their birthday after all!”  Patton tried to explain, they were safe, everything would be okay. But Virgil was having none of it. He went off listing danger after danger, while Patton tried to reassure him that those wouldn’t happen. Both completely ignoring Roman, Logan and Thomas, every suggestion they gave was immediately ignored as if they weren’t even there. 

Until Patton snapped. 

“Virgil! That’s Enough!!!” He shouted, almost loud enough to echo across the apartment’s walls. He balled his hands into tight fists, shutting his eyes closed as he put his arms down forcefully to his sides, separated. 

He heard the sound of screaming for a moment, painful, blood-curdling screaming. But it stopped as soon as it started, rendering the room completely silent. 

When his eyes opened, he was made just as speechless. In Virgil’s spot, stood two versions of him. One that was leaning against the wall, clearly exhausted, having a white hoodie on with small blue patches residing on it. While the other was leaning against the banister, in a way that resembled him as scared of the other as he clung to it like a lifetime, having a dark gray hoodie with faded red stripes. Similar looking to Virgil’s old hoodie. They both had logos as well. The first had a light grey cloud with cobalt blue stitching around it. While the other had a black lighting bolt with crimson red stitching around it. 

There was only silence for a few seconds as Patton and the others stared at the two new sides in front of them. “Virgil?” Patton asked breaking the dead silence. Both of the two new sides looked up at Patton in response. 

“Dad? What did you do to me?” The white and blue clothed side asked. “Us.” The second new side corrected, his voice in Tempest Tongue. “What did you do to us? To Virgil?!” The red and dark grey side growled at Patton.

Patton was speechless he had no idea what he had done to his dark strange son. He glanced quickly at the others. Thomas looked like he was about to start to panic, Logan was just frozen and Roman… Roman, he had a look of horror on his face. A look of horror that showed he knew exactly what Patton did.

“Patton… You- you split Virgil into two just like you did with me and Remus…” Roman paused for a second to compose himself, now wasn’t the time for him to start crying. “We may never see our stormcloud again…”

“But there has to be a way to get him back! Virgil can’t just be gone forever!” Thomas replied.

“The only example we have to go off of is Roman and Remus and they never re-fused. So, unfortunately, it’s a safe assumption to say that it’s not possible for these two halves of Virgil to refuse.” Logan answered visibly troubled by this answer. 

Patton can only stare in horror at Logan with what he said. Did he really get rid of Virgil for good?

“Patton… this is… what you’ve done to Virgil… it's so bad I don’t even have a word to describe it.” Roman refuses to look at Patton while saying this.

“That was messed up even for me.” Remus said after he appeared next to Roman.

Tears began to well up in his eyes. He really messed up and he had no way to fix what he did. “Are you happy now?” Deceit asked as he appeared to Patton. He started crying no he didn’t want this. He would never want this. He just wanted Virgil back, he wanted his best friend back.

“Deceit?” The black and red Virgil whispered. Deceit looks up at him. “Yeah, V?”

“Are we gonna be like this forever?”

“I honestly don’t know.” He glared at Patton as he said that.

“Well… If they’re gonna be here possibly forever do they have names? We can’t really call them Virgil or Anxiety.” Thomas interrupts.

“We don’t have a name beside Virgil…”  The side against the wall replied.

“Well, we can give you names!” Roman said and points to the white and blue side. “Your name can be Vito.” 

“Vito… Ok, I’m fine with it.” 

“Ok and you!” Roman says pointing to the other side. “Your name can be Viho.”

“Ok yeah, I’m not letting my name be picked by you princey. That names fudging stupid.” He growls at Roman.”

“Ok wow, no need to be so mean we’re friends.”

“Who said we are friends?!” He shouts at Roman.

The room falls into a shocked silence. Tears well up in Roman’s eyes but he quickly wipes them away like nothing happened.

“How bout Volt?” Remus says changing the topic.

“I like that, Remus. My names Volt.” Volt says with a smirk. Roman just stares at Volt shocked and hurt. Volt only glanced over to Patton, who was still in tears, but instead of having any kind of remorse in his expression, there was a glare. 

Patton tried to speak, tried to apologize, but his sobs muffled his words. “Virgil- I-I mean, Vito, Volt. I didn’t want this… I didn’t mean for this to happen! I-” He was cut off as Volt interrupted him, “Well obviously you did! Because we’re here! The good and the bad! Just like Roman and Remus” He huffed, “What are you going to do, huh?” 

Logan sighed, “Volt-” 

“Split Logan next time he disagrees with you??” 

“Volt! Enough.” Logan snapped, causing silence to fall across the room. “I understand  your frustrations-” 

“No you don’t, you robot.” 

Logan took a deep breath to not let that get to him, “You are upset, but we all are to some degree, you have to try to focus so that we can properly fix the issue. We are unsure if you can be fused again, but we will try to do what we can if you cooperate with us.”  

Volt leaned against the banister once again, “I don’t see the point.” he muttered harshly. “I mean, again if Patton had wanted Virgil here, he’d still be here. He banished Virgil to the dark side so what’s to say he wouldn’t do it again with me or if we did get back together.”

Vito glances at Volt, “Patton won’t do that, I won’t let him.”

“You can’t stop him he always gets what he wants!”

Thomas covers his face with his hands, his breathing slightly beginning to pick up, “So he’s never coming back?” He asked, his voice having the slightest quiver to it. “But he’s my anxiety!” His hands shook as he ran them through his hair, “And-and Patton- you’re my morality! Why would you want to do that?!” He could barely keep up with all that was happening, quickly becoming overwhelmed and spiraling into a panic attack. 

Vito looks at Thomas concerned, “Thomas, remember to breathe.” He turns to Volt. “Volt stop! Your making Thomas have a panic attack!”

“Why should I? You’ll listen to me better this way and Thomas will forgive me anyways.” 

“Volt! Please!” Vito begged as he went over to his half, “This isn’t the way to handle this!” 

“Why? Because he’s feeling bad? Guess what he feels bad almost all the time thanks to how strict Patton is! And ya know what? In some cases he deserves it!”

“He didn’t know that this would happen? Volt, please Virgil wouldn’t want this!”

“Maybe your part of him wouldn’t but mine does! How are you not hurt by what he did?! How are you not feeling betrayed?!”

Vito is silent for a second before looking at his other half in the eyes. “I am hurt and I do feel betrayed but revenge isn’t the answer.”

“I’m not after revenge! I just don’t want to be hurt anymore! I don’t want him to be hurt anymore!” 

“We aren’t going to be hurt-” 

“How do you know that??” 

Finally, Logan snapped, “Volt, this is not the way to handle this situation… Thomas himself had nothing to do with this, causing him to have a panic attack will only delay our time to get this back in order. You are now only harming Thomas. None of us... Take a deep breath and we can figure this out.” 

Volt went quiet for a moment, but then just crossed his arms as he leaned against the banister, refusing to look at anyone directly as he muttered out, “Fine.” 

Vito took a deep breath and walked a bit closer to Thomas, “Thomas, remember what you’ve learned, breath in for four seconds,” he tried to keep his voice a lot softer and calmer than it had been, especially in comparison to his other half. 

He slowly guided Thomas through a few breathing exercises, glancing to Patton every once in a while as he did so to make sure he was following along to. The other sides were finally able to find their calm as well, even if Roman, Remus, and Deceit were furious with Patton over what had happened. They were able to calm down at least. 

Volt glanced back from the floor, and over to Thomas and Patton, both sobbing messes at this point. That’s when the realization hit him. He looked between the other sides, making sure the attention wasn’t on him and grinned a wicked borderline malicious grin before sinking out to Virgil’s room.

[pass-the-bechdel]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine season five full review

How many episodes pass the Bechdel test?

68.18% (fifteen of twenty-two).

What is the average percentage per episode of female characters with names and lines?

30.03%

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 40% female?

Two (episode seventeen ‘DFW’ (42.85%), and episode twenty-one ‘White Whale’ (42.85%)).

How many episodes have a cast that is less than 20% female?

One (episode nine ‘99′ (15.38%)).

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Thirty-two. Four who appeared in more than one episode, three who appeared in at least half the episodes, and ZERO who appeared in every episode.

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Sixty-four. Thirteen who appeared in more than one episode, six who appeared in at least half the episodes, and three who appeared in every episode.

Positive Content Status:

Fairly standard expectations for this show, that is: above-average compared to most tv. That said, their biggest progressive move of the season came off more prescribed than genuine to me, and sometimes I felt like they were including little remarks and things just to half-ass being ‘on brand’ rather than because they actually believe in it. This season often lacked the heart to make its social commentary really land (average rating of 3.04).

General Season Quality:

They had a whole bunch of good episodes around the middle of the season, but they started and ended weak, and a lot of the story and characterisation is starting to meander and go stale. They lifted their game in season four, but this feels like a return to the dissatisfaction that was rife in season three. 

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) under the cut:

Well, this is the worst they’ve done on the male:female ratio, decisively. It’s not the worst they’ve done on the Bechdel, but it is worse than what it has been in recent seasons. And while the positive content score is above average, outside of the single episode which raised that score they really did a lot less to impress than what I would consider this show’s standard (and even that one episode, I maintain, could have been much better). Setting aside the critical aspect of what I do here to speak on a pure entertainment level, this season seriously lacked one of the best qualities of the show in previous seasons, which was the basic guarantee of a good time; some episodes will always be better than others, but if nothing else, you used to be able to rely on that good time. There were no episodes this season that were just utter garbage, no, but if I were a casual viewer, then the majority of this season would probably fail to hold my attention or convince me to tune in next week, and that’s not what you want. As ever, when the show is good it is really, really good, but when it is bad it is DEEPLY mediocre, feeling phoned-in or, sometimes, like it was written by someone who does not understand the appeal of this show in the first place. To touch on some various aspects of all of the above, lets talk about character arcs.

Now, I am not one of those people who believes that every character has to have a definable ‘arc’. They really don’t. What they DO need is to feel like they’re part of the story for a reason, and giving them their own task or journey which traditionally lays out in an arc format tends to be the go-to method for achieving that. It is easily possible to have a character without a personal arc still fit into the story and feel necessary and wanted: my case in point for this season of B99 is Terry. Terry was seriously underused, and that’s a shame because he’s great, and yes, giving him some kind of arc to bring him to the fore a few times across the season would almost definitely have been a good move...but. The fact that he had no arc to speak of did not render his character obsolete, and he worked and played really well as a character whose stability can be an anchoring quality for the show sometimes: Terry is still a reliable good time, even if the writing is sliding in other places. Vitally, there is a confidence about the way that Terry is presented which allows his character to function fully regardless of the attention level; I would have LIKED more Terry, but his character is firmly established as a constant such that he can occupy a regular space without seeming superfluous. On the flip side of that, we have...Gina.

I’ve never ‘got’ Gina in that fan-favourite way that has worked for so many people, and her selfishness and her constant put-downs have often made her the antithesis of the feel-good mentality that - to me - has defined what makes this show worthwhile when it is at its best. But, setting aside my personal opinion of Gina as a character, this season failed utterly to achieve the very thing they used as the driving purpose of her return to the show at mid-season: to prove that she is ‘needed’. Real-life maternity leave is necessary and I would never advocate for axing a character just because the actor needs the time off, so I’m not suggesting they should have just ditched her and moved on despite Chelsea Peretti’s evident desire to return to the show, but what they NEEDED to do was to...give Gina literally anything meaningful to do once she returned, in order to re-establish her as someone with a reason to be around. They didn’t. Even the one subplot where Gina admits to Terry that she’s having a hard time balancing being a working mother lacked the impact to drive home a real-life struggle, and that’s pretty dire; Gina never felt right, when she was around at all, and it made the decision to bring her back on board after the show had got on just fine without her for half a season feel like one long false note. How hard would it have been to turn that weakly-delivered subplot into a proper mini-arc as Gina settled back in to work? How hard would it have been to make it clear that becoming a mother has changed Gina in a fashion which plays out in the long-term instead of just being a few remarks she made in a single episode? These are trick questions, of course. It’s not hard. It requires a bare minimum of effort which usually doesn’t even register AS effort, it’s just the writer asking themselves the question ‘What is going on with this character right now?’ and then answering it in their script. That’s just how basic character consistency works, really. And yet, they fumbled it.

In other dissatisfying news, we have the ‘Sad Excuse For An Arc’, featuring Charles Boyle. I really wish that I never had to talk about Charles again because I really hate him, for reasons elucidated constantly across my posts for this entire series which ultimately boil (heh) down to him being an emotionally manipulative nightmare of a person with possessive overtones who regularly disrespects and disrupts the lives around him without ever taking proper responsibility for his actions or recognising and working on his desperate need for self-improvement, and who somehow continues to be packaged by the narrative as just ‘ha-ha well-meaning but awkward’ while other characters pander to his manipulations and weather the many and sundry inconveniences he introduces to their lives without complaint. I still haven’t forgotten that he was an A-grade creep to Rosa in the first season and the show just kinda glossed over it and never mentioned it again, because damn, maybe if they had owned their mistake and had Charles actively tackle his flaws back then, they might have inadvertently written the character with literally any kind of development over the course of five freakin’ seasons. Because as-is, he has not changed at all since the show started (even adopting a child hasn’t changed him, it just gives him something to reference every now and then - what is it with this show and failing to incorporate major home-life changes (LITERAL! CHILDREN!!) into the character’s daily lives?), and this is how we end up with an ‘arc’ like that crap with Charles and the food truck. It goes like this: Charles buys food truck. Charles is a megalomaniac asshole chef in the food truck (significant food wastage ensues). Charles’ food truck gets destroyed. Three episodes across the season, one two three, and only the last one is the A plot of the episode instead of a minor subplot. And this? This is Charles’ personal story for the entire season. Unfortunately, he’s around constantly in the rest of the season as well and it feels like there were nowhere near enough episodes which offered a reprieve from his noxious personality, so he doesn’t suffer from Gina syndrome in the sense of seeming pointless, but that kinda...proves my point about arcs. The one Charles has here is a joke, and not the funny kind. He was used excessively throughout the rest of the season without the assistance of an ‘arc’ to legitimise his presence, he didn’t NEED one to function in the season, but the Sad Excuse For An Arc that he DID have only highlighted the wider problem of the character over the whole series thus far, which is that he has NEVER had an arc which brought about meaningful development or change.

And then there was Rosa. There was actually a sneakier amount of character fodder for Rosa this season than what may seem immediately obvious: the dominant development was her bisexuality, but there were also other pieces to pick up with her reconnecting with her family after her stint in prison, and also some welcome focus on her career in the latter end of the season (notably ‘Show Me Going’ and ‘White Whale’), which did a solid job of re-anchoring the character professionally after a season disproportionately interested in her romantic life. I feel very cynical, complaining about the bisexuality storyline, and I’d like to reiterate that I am genuinely glad to have this openly-declared positive representation for a frequently ill-treated branch of the big queer tree. I stand in unequivocal solidarity with my bisexual brethren. THAT SAID. I also sincerely dislike the way this show went about including bisexuality as a part of Rosa’s character, and it’s because of the ‘arc’ element: specifically, that the ‘arc’ is literally just about her being attracted to women. Rosa’s ‘coming out’ is not the arc - there is just the one Very Special episode about that specifically - and I’m ok with that because it’s rare to have a character whose queer sexuality is revealed comparatively late in a story without it being a revelation for the character themselves and not just the people around them. My problem is that - once the bisexual cat is out of the bag - the way the show packages the arc is just to double down, triple down on reminding the audience that Rosa is into women, is dating women, is being set up with women, is being wowed by hot women she sees...and there is no further mention of her interest in men. After four seasons of her only ever being depicted in relationships with men or having active interest in men, the narrative packages her coming out as bisexual in the same way as shows typically package a character realising that they’re gay: by giving them conspicuous subplots that revolve specifically around same-gender attraction. And that comes across to me as a brownie-points grab, as performative queer content designed to get attention, rather than the kind of inclusive representation I have celebrated this show for in the past re: Holt. It feels like the writers aren’t comfortable with the reality of Rosa’s bisexuality, that they’re subscribing to the idea that if she’s shown to be still interested in men that she’ll become magically not-queer and they’ll lose their brownie points, and so they’re throwing women at her in the kinds of meaningless subplots that they never assigned to the character before she came out. As a rule, if you treat a character differently for being queer than you would if they were straight, that’s bad representation. The way that Rosa’s life is presented to us should not spontaneously change just because we know she also likes women, especially because this is the status quo for her; the ‘arc’ here is about the expectation of an audience reaction, and not actually about the character at all. 

The good news? Jake, Amy, and Holt all have successful, meaningful arcs this season, with Jake and Amy’s journey from engagement to marriage, and Holt’s gambit for his dream job as commissioner. While both arcs came to lacklustre closes in the predictable season finale, through the course of the season they supplied various A and B plots, never slipping entirely from the audience’s memory or causing glitches in the sense of character or narrative continuity, but also never dominating the show in a manner that became distracting or tedious. Both plots were told as stories, with ups and downs and complications large or small, like proper arcs instead of perfunctory beginning-middle-end or ‘three times makes it a pattern’ ideas (which is more than I can say for the Seamus Murphy misfire which made a Sad Excuse For An Arc for the first half of the season at large - it may have ended on a high note, but it failed to generate any tension as a long-term plot or deliver on its initial promises from the ultimately-weak time-wasting two-part premiere). Honestly, as a whole this season felt like they were winging it on the bulk of the story, with the Peralta-Santiago wedding and the fate of Holt’s career the only things that were planned for the finale from the outset and everything else just fabricated as they went along, and the looseness of the entire rest of the season is the messy disappointing result of the ‘we’ll figure it out when we get there’ ethos. Last season had me so hopeful for the show getting back on track, getting back to its roots and remembering what made it work with quality story for the characters, a solid narrative backbone, and a social compass at the forefront. After the vague characterisation of this season, the shapeless meandering of so much filler plot, and commentary that was ham-fisted and anvilicious when it was there at all...It’s not like this was bad. It wasn’t bad. It was just so much less than what I expected or hoped to see.

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Puella Magi Madoka Magica Episode 7

*Finishes re-rewatching Treasure Planet* Ah, what a good movie. That and I,Robot and Terminator 2 and Captain America: The Winter Soldier and Star Wars and- Wait, why did I start watching all these movies again? I remember it had something to do with Transhumanism. Something about contracts and a Bunny-cat being a dick and girls who were actually lichs… Oh crap, the thread! That is a very big moon.

Sayaka’s slowly walking back to her apartment, her face shadowed and… what, seriously? Madoka isn’t there? What the heck, Madoka? You just let your friend leave on her own after that whammy? She’s entered her apartment now, not being very quiet about closing the door. Does she live on her own? If it turns out she’s an orphan too I’m going to snap. Lights on, Sayaka tosses her Soul Gem (which is actually herself, what the heck) onto the table KYUBEY. GET OUT. BACK TO THE LIST CORNER WITH YOU. “You tricked us, didn’t you?” She didn’t even have to turn around and see he was there, did she? It’s obvious that the little jerk would waltz in uninvited. Oh you are such an asshole! “I just didn’t explain exactly what form you’d be taking to do that”? Oh yeah, that’s such a minor detail, not worth mentioning, really! “Because you never asked.” Because they never asked?! Informed consent, Bunny-cat! Learn it! Aw HELL no. You don’t get to use “even Mami never noticed to the very end” as an excuse. Ever think that maybe if she knew the risks she wouldn’t have worn her literal soul as a hairpin?! The little jerk keep on listing the advantages of Soul Gems. He really doesn’t see anything wrong with what he’s done, does he? Kyubey? What are you doing with Sayaka’s Soul Gem? What the hell is wrong with you, Bunny-cat? You want to show how relatively fragile a human body is to pain? Fine, there are plenty of other ways to show that without inflicting Sayaka with enough pain to make her collapse! WHY ARE YOU STILL DOING IT?! We get it, Soul Gems dampen pain reception between the mind and body! Stop torturing Sayaka! Please, she’s crying! Friggen finally. Sayaka, you need to get up, grab that little demon, and chuck him out the window. And never let him get close to your Gem, alright? As Sayaka recovers, Kyubey is rambling about how Magical Girls can control the degree of pain reception on their own, but he doesn’t recommend it at it lowers reaction time. ...wow, ok. Even I can see that manipulation at work there. You inflict Sayaka with severe pain, and then ‘offhandedly mention’ that she can make it so she feels no pain at all? Real subtle, Bunny-cat. Because why worry about the well-being of these girls when you can make them that much more aggressive in getting you food? And then he uses the “I’ve granted the Wish that you (unintentionally) sold your soul for” card. Yep, I just saw the show’s familiar torture one of the main characters, manipulate her into unlocking a pain-free fighting style (who needs the warnings that a body part is damaged, anyway?) and claim that she owes him for services rendered. So of course, we go into the bright and poppy Intro of Lies! Ugh. Get out of Madoka’s room, you jerk. And get away from Mami, too! Episode 7: Can you face your true feelings? It’s school the next day, seems that Sayaka skipped out. Wonder if the attendance office would accept a “I was tricked out of my soul by a Bunny-cat” as an excused absence. Aw. Looks like she’s been curled up under her blankets since last night, she didn’t even change her clothes. But hey, why worry about what you meat-puppet is wearing, right? On Fancy Rooftop now, Madoka’s meeting with Homura. Hey, that’s right, she knew about the “MGs are actually inside the Soul Gem” thing, right? Why didn’t you say anything, Homura? Damn! Madoka’s actually calling Homura out on it, asking if she really did know… but she says she tried telling others in the past. And nobody ever believed her. Ouch. I mean… yeah, it’s a really farfetched story. And I guess the only way to prove it would be for her to purposefully get far away from her Soul Gem. And that’s way too big a risk to take. Now they’re talking about how Kyubey doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong. Interesting how Homura’s calling him an it now, saying it cannot comprehend human values. I’ll be using that for Bunny-cat from now on, matches the clinical detachment. Sure, it insists that “a (short) lifetime of fighting Witches to feed me” is equal to “granting a single Wish”. Yup, Madoka’s not agreeing to the exchange rate. Healing one person’s non-fatal injuries does not equal service as a Magical Lunch Lady. But Homura’s simply saying that it was a miracle, something impossible made possible. ...oh stop being so moody, Homura. You can’t know that medical science would never be able to heal his hands. The guy’s still in middle school, for crying out loud, he has his whole life ahead of him! Just because current science isn’t able to do it, doesn’t mean you should assume that it never will. I will concede that a miracle, a proper miracle, is a Big Deal. I’m a little more iffy on whether it is of greater value that an entire human life. But you will NOT convince me that healing one person’s hands is equal to the life of a Magical Girl. Ooh, good point Madoka! For all of Homura’s “give up on her” talk, if she hadn’t become a Magical Girl then Madoka, Hitomi, and all the other people in that factory would have died! (Urgh, I’m am so torn between my I WAS RIGHT from that episode and my understanding now of what becoming a Magical Girl does) Oh. “Don’t confuse gratitude with responsibility.” That’s… that’s pretty heavy. Homura’s hammering home the point that Madoka is just a human, who has no ability to save Sayaka Miki. She shouldn’t try to ‘repay’ Sayaka to alleviate her sense of guilt. ...wow. That is… wow. Somewhere the ghost of Thomas Hobbes is applauding Homura’s self-interest philosophy. Well, ok. I guess one’s sense of morality can be slightly affected by being an undead magic user. It’s a lot easier to justify self-interest when the Muggles you know die of old age and your associates keep getting killed by these monsters. Why stay constrained by human ethics when you see yourself as no longer human? So does that make Mami a Pro-Human Transhuman, then? Sayaka’s still in her bed… Oh. Oh DAMN. That’s… Um. I mean, it’s, uh, not really that bad? I mean, just because your soul now fits in your pocket that doesn’t mean you can’t still date and… Damn. That’s something I didn’t even consider. The basis of Sayaka making the Contract was to heal Kamijo, and we have to admit there was a degree of “I can get his affection” in that Wish. But with the realization of how she relates to her former body now? Not to mention the whole “eternally young” thing. Damn it, Bunny-cat. The hell? Who just spoke? Kyoko? She wants to talk? Sayaka’s dressed and following Kyoko through the park now, who’s busy chomping down apples. Huh, she says she’s ok with the whole zombie thing. Well, you can’t deny that the powers of a Magical Girl can be useful, I suppose if you focus enough on the benefits you can rationalize the whole lich thing. Sayaka calls her out on her “you get what you pay for” attitude. Although I’m suddenly wondering if she paid of all the food she’s been eating. Having MG powers probably makes it easier to get five-finger discounts. Kyoko cheerfully agrees. Huh. “And if you live only to benefit yourself, you’ve got to pay for your own mistakes too.” And suddenly you’ve made self-interest sound noble. If you don’t involve others, then you don’t- *Suddenly remembers that Kyoko has advocated letting Familiars kill bystanders in order to get more Grief Seeds* Nope, never mind, still hate you. The sun’s sinking lower as the two girls reach some sort of old building, which Kyoko kicks down the door of. Broken stained glass? So is this an old church or art gallery or something? Well, whatever this place is, it’s certainly seen better days.

We're at the dilapidated stained-glass building, I'm thinking it's a church of some sort as the camera's looking at an altar sort of thing in front of where the biggest window would be.

Sayaka's asking why Kyoko had her come out here, Kyoko says it's a long story and tosses her an apple. Huh, is this like when she offered Homura pocky, a sign of trust?

Ooh, but Sayaka just tossed it to the ground. I don’t mean to nitpick, Sayaka, but it looks like Kyoko’s extending an olive branch here. You don’t have to like the hard-line MG, but maybe a truce could

WHOA ok Kyoko did not like that, she rushed forward and his lifting Sayaka off the ground. And that is a gruesome crackling sound, I really hope that’s just her uniform.

“Don’t ever waste food. I’ll kill you if you do.” Don’t waste food around Kyoko, got it.

Yup, Kyoko is bodily lifting Sayaka by the collar, until she calms down and lets her drop. Then she picks up the apple, dusts it off and puts it back in the bag.

Ooh, new music? Backstory for Kyoko? I still hate her for the whole “letting Familiars go” thing, but after my Homura rage was shown to be a little excessive and Kyubey proved to be a dick I’m willing to hear this story out.

“See… this was my dad’s church.” Aha, it is a church! Wait, ‘was’?

Aw, paper-cutout stick puppets! That’s adorable. We see Kyoko’s pastor dad get passed by two smaller cutouts… little sister? Aw dammit, this is another “How a MG became an orphan” story, isn’t it?

“He thought that in order to save a new generation, we needed to have a new religion.” Well, hopefully without sparking any religious debate, that sounds pretty good to me. Not quite sure about the “preaching stuff that wasn’t in the Bible” part, but he seems earnest at least.

So people stopped attending the church, and he got excommunicated by the overall Church? Harsh.

“From the outside, he probably looked like some raving cultist.” Good to see that Kyoko recognizes that while she believes (believed?) in what he taught she understands it could be seen as radical. Although was it really necessary to dump water on the guy, random person? Yes he’s preaching at your house, but that doesn’t mean you should treat him like that.

Side note: dumping water out a window? Do people still do that, now? Or is this Backstory set in a time when it was more common? After all, with the whole meat puppet thing, I don’t think it’s that much of a stretch to place this way back when.

“It got to the point where our entire family didn’t even have food to eat.” Oh, explanation for why she always has food! Nice touch, show!

...damn it, this show’s making my sympathize with the character who argued for Muggles as Monster Chow by showing how her family was starving… ok, fine, Kyoko. You can have a cushion for your chair.

Nice art style here! Showing Kyoko playing with these paper stick puppets while the girls’ art style stands out against the background.

Little Girl Kyoko just couldn't understand why all this was happening. Why people couldn’t just hear her father out and see that he was right.

And then she met Kyubey.

“And so I asked Kyubey to make everyone listen seriously to what my dad said.”

Oh. Oh no.

The very next day the church was packed full of people again. And each of their paper cutouts has red eyes and an image of Kyoko’s Soul Gem on their chest.

Damn it, Kyubey. She asked for people to listen to her dad, not get mind-controlled by him.

Bunny-Cat Jerk: “What’s the difference? They’re hearing the same words either way.”

It must have seemed so perfect. Her dad’s church is doing well, and she’s got cool new superpowers and monsters to fight. Her dad got to preach to the world, and she took care of the Witches. So she threw herself into Witch-hunting. Because between the two of them, they could save the world.

Hey, cutout of a taller woman holding hands with them! Wasn’t sure there was a mom in the picture until now.

But then her dad found out. And when he found out that the people were compelled to come by magic rather than belief, he “flipped out”. He called Kyoko “a witch who tainted people’s hearts”. WOW. Ok, in any magical setting that would be some harsh words, but when the demons are called Witches…when she hunted real Witches every night...

Oh no.

Yup. Orphan story.

Damn it. This doesn’t excuse her letting innocents die, but when it resulted in her father killing the rest of the family and then committing suicide…

I’ll be right back, going to get Kyoko some pocky to snack on.

“My wish destroyed my whole family.” Kyoko says that because she went and made a wish for someone else, without really knowing what he wanted, it brought everyone misfortune.

“Right then, I vowed in my heart never to use magic to help anyone else again.” Ouch. So Kyoko’s self-interest stems from the results of her Wish. If helping others only ends up in misfortune, then it is best to use if for your sake and yours alone.

This show seems to really be stressing a philosophy of ‘equal and opposite reaction’. Is karma the right term? “If you wish for hope, an equal amount of despair will be rained down upon you, too”. Seems that’s what Kyoko believes now, seeing it as preserving the world’s balance.

Sayaka asks Kyoko why she told her all of this. Huh, Kyoko really is trying to teach Sayaka, isn’t she? Like Homura’s trying to keep Madoka from making a contract and losing her soul, Kyoko’s trying to get Sayaka to, from her perspective, stop wasting her energy on helping others when whatever good she does will be countered by despair… I don’t think that Sayaka’s going to really approve of this philosophy.

Sayaka questions where “teaching others about how the world sucks” falls in a self-interest philosophy, Kyoko says that she’s trying to stop Sayaka from a life that will bring more regrets. You’ve already “paid your dues”, time to get your money’s worth! (Unintentionally) sold your soul? Then live it up on earth!

“I was really wrong about you.” Sayaka?

Oh! She’s apologizing for her initial opinion of Kyoko. But she still doesn’t regret making her wish for someone else’s sake. Go Sayaka!

“I’ve decided that I’ll never regret anything. Ever.” Um. Go Sayaka? I mean, good words, but I’m not sure that anyone could live up to that.

Huh. You don’t think you paid too high a price? We are still talking about your soul here, right?

“Because, depending on how we use it, this magic can be used for wonderful things.” Alright! Ally of Justice, everyone! Screw how dark this show’s gotten, we can still turn this around! Right?

Right?

Oh dear. She wants to know where Kyoko got her apples from.

Aw crap. Just when I get all excited about Sayaka not getting turned away from being a Hero, she goes full-on Paladin. And not the Paladin that you want in your party, either, but the “Almighty Babysitter” type a DM would use to keep the players in check. Yes, you want the rogue to exercise some self-control, but nobody likes partying with a Lawful Stupid character.

Sayaka. Kyoko just told you her Tragic Backstory in the ruins of her father’s church. Are you really going to chastise her about where she stole a bag of apples? Yes, yes you are. *sigh*

Kyoko is not happy about her advice getting so totally rejected, angrily eats an apple while Sayaka walks away.

Well this is just great. I can admire Sayaka not regretting her choice, but you do remember your last ‘fight’ with the more-experienced MG? It did not end well. What makes you think you could do better next time?

Sayaka’s walking to school now, I assume the next day. Hey, Madoka and NPC, I mean Hitomi! All three are walking along, Sayaka claims she was feeling sick the day before-

Hey, Kamijo! Oh. Kamijo. And Sayaka didn’t know he was going back to school

In class Kamijo’s the center of attention, chatting about he’s aiming to set aside the crutches next week. Madoka suggests that Sayaka go talk with him, but she says that she’s fine.

Closeup of Hitomi?

Wait, why are they at Fancy Food Court again? And it’s just Sayaka and Hitomi.

“About love.” Wait. Wait, no. No no no NO.

Hitomi has a crush on Kamijo.

Hitomi, please stop. This is…

Hitomi. You have no idea what damage you are causing right now. I understand from your perspective you are just expressing your intent to a friend of yours in an attempt to prevent any bad feelings. That’s commendable, really, a proper thing to do. Good manners.

But this is the boy that Sayaka, while unintentionally, sold her soul to heal.

I am begging you, do not do this.

Great, a deadline. Hitomi’s waiting until after school the next day to confess her feelings to Kamijo, so Sayaka has a chance to.

Well, great.

Later that night, at Sayaka’s apartment complex…

KYUBEY. SCREW YOU.

Bunny-Cat Jerk: “Ah, whatever. Time for my magical lunch ladies to get me more food!”

Madoka’s waiting for Sayaka again. What a good friend. And after the wtfery of the last few days, from listening to Kyoko’s Tragic Backstory to Hitomi’s deadline, Sayaka starts crying. She had a moment that day where she almost regretted something…

Sayaka, it’s ok to regret things. Nobody is perfect-

WOW OK. That’s a little different, thinking “If only I hadn’t saved Hitomi that time…”

Let me try that again. Sayaka, there are things that it is ok to regret, but succeeding in saving a life is not one of them. By all means, never regret that. And stop trying to hold yourself up to Mami’s level, you are at most a few weeks into the job, if not days. You’ll become a worthy Magical Girl in your own time, there’s no shame in that.

And I’m sorry about the Hitomi situation, that you feel that it’s inevitable and there’s nothing you can do because you’re “already dead”. Please, Sayaka. It sucks that your life is now this because of Bunny-Cat’s dick move, and I can’t see a painless way to get out of this. But please, talk with Madoka. Be a good example to Kyoko and Homura. Don’t let the problems of today weigh you down. You are Sayaka Miki, student of Mami Tomoe. You will be a glorious Magical Girl, a hero. Just stay strong.

Sayaka’s doing a little better after Madoka give a shoulder to cry on. Keep being a good friend, Madoka. Now, let’s go save the Muggles!

In what looks like an old construction site…

Kyoko’s there, chomping on a popsicle as she looks at a labyrinth. Are the others in there already?

Oh hey, Homura! She questions why Kyoko is on the sidelines right now, Kyoko says that Sayaka’s fighting a full-fledged Witch tonight. So since it’s sure to drop a Grief Seed, no reason to let the Familiar go to eat more people. As for why she’s letting someone else fight the ‘prey’? She doesn’t answer. Hmm, did Sayaka’s response leave an impact?

Inside the labyrinth, the art style seems to be black silhouettes against a white background.

Hey, this is Sayaka’s theme, isn’t it?

Sayaka’s charging the Witch, but keeps getting blocked by these dragon-head things. She almost reaches the… bonsai tree? But a branch grows and traps her. Madoka runs forward- oh hey, Kyoko’s here and cut her loose! She scoffs about Sayaka’s performance and gets ready to atta- nope, Sayaka tells her to get out of the way, that she’ll do this alone. Are you sure about that, Sayaka? This is a Witch, after all.

Ouch, that’s got to hurt. Good thing she can heal, though.

Wait. Is she laughing?

Um. She’s not dodging anymore, just charging. And now she’s slashing wildly at the Witch while still laughing.

“It’s really true! If I just detach myself…”

Oh no.

Ranubis said:As Sayaka recovers, Kyubey is rambling about how Magical Girls can control the degree of pain reception on their own, but he doesn’t recommend it at it lowers reaction time. ...wow, ok. Even I can see that manipulation at work there. You inflict Sayaka with severe pain, and then ‘offhandedly mention’ that she can make it so she feels no pain at all? Real subtle, Bunny-cat. Because why worry about the well-being of these girls when you can make them that much more aggressive in getting you food?

Well, this is just GREAT. Sayaka’s gone and turned into a Berserker Paladin, hasn’t she?

“...I really don’t feel any pain! *crazed laughter*”

Sayaka. Sayaka, please. Don’t do this. Going into a Berserker Rage never helps.

Can’t you hear Madoka begging you to stop?!

Well. That was certainly a cheery point to end the episode. Last time we discovered that the girls were lichs. Now Sayaka’s gone and started fighting in Berserker Mode. What’ll happen next, Madoka’s Mom gets killed by a Witch?!

Ugh. This show, you guys.

After Credits Picture! And adorable image of Kyoko, Sayaka and Madoka snacking on fish treats, while Sayaka yanks Kyubey away from the bag. If only this was the show that we had…

“I’m going to be a different kind of magical girl from all of you...That’s what I’ve decided...I don’t need thanks or recompense. I’ll be the one magical girl who won’t use her magic for herself.”

Well, that’s a good Hero Statement. Good for you Saya-

Episode 8: I Was Stupid… So Stupid

...what. No. NO. THAT IS A HORRIBLE EPISODE TITLE, WHY WOULD YOU-

[imagitory]

D-Views: Aladdin (with guest input!)

Hi, everyone! Welcome to another installment of D-Views, my on-going written review series where I take a look at Disney-produced and/or owned properties, as well as occasionally non-Disney films that were influenced by Disney’s success! For more of these reviews, you may consult my “Disney reviews” tag, where I’ve discussed such films as Treasure Planet, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, and Dreamworks’ The Prince of Egypt!

Today I’ll be doing something a little different. In lieu of the live-action Aladdin remake premiering in less than two weeks, I decided it’d be best to re-watch the original 1992 classic, and I invited two of my good friends, Christina and Jen, to help me analyze it. I will note any of their input when it arises, and hopefully you’ll enjoy hearing three voices for the price of one!

Aladdin was released in the midst of the Disney Renaissance in the 1990′s, sandwiched between the landmark hits Beauty and the Beast and The Lion King. Out of Disney’s biggest blockbusters, Aladdin is easily the most “of its time” -- it relies on pop culture references for its humor and uses era-specific slang (i.e. ”NOT!” and “Made you look!”) more than most Disney films do and features a celebrity voice in a prominent role, which was quite uncommon, compared to previous Disney projects. (The best examples I can think of prior to this was having John Hurt, Peter Ustinov, and Vincent Price play villains in The Black Cauldron, Robin Hood, and The Great Mouse Detective, but...yeah, as amazing and well-renown as those men are, they weren’t insanely popular media stars of the time the way that Robin Williams was.) One could attribute this “hipper” aspect at least in part to Jeffrey Katzenberg, who was head of Disney’s animation department at the time, and Disney CEO Michael Eisner, both of whom put a lot of focus in following what was popular and marketable. (Katzenberg later put all of his attention and focus on molding Pocahontas into a historical-fiction retelling of Romeo and Juliet as he assumed a forbidden love story would be a hit, while Eisner kicked The Rescuers Down Under to the curb a year before Beauty and the Beast came out all because it didn’t break the box office opening weekend.) Fortunately the approach paid off and Aladdin was a big success, fueling two direct-to-video sequels, a spin-off TV series, and a show at Disney’s California Adventure that transformed into a full Broadway musical. Even now it’s still very well-loved by Disney fans, many of whom are now looking forward to the live-action remake coming out this month. As my followers might know, I’m still very on-the-fence about the remake myself, as I haven’t reacted very warmly to Disney’s other recent live-action remakes, but my two cohorts Jen and Christina are much less cynical about the prospect, so hopefully any commentary we might make about what we’ve learned about the remake compared to the original will be minimal. Now that our context is framed, let’s board this magic carpet of a movie and see where it takes us!

To start with, Arabian Nights is just such a fantastic musical introduction to this story! Aladdin was the last project that lyricist Howard Ashman worked on before his premature death in 1992, and like in the rest of his work, the word play in the songs he wrote for this movie (Arabian Nights, Friend Like Me and Prince Ali) is just masterful. Arabian Nights in particular just emanates “adventure” -- it was later used as the opening theme for the Aladdin TV series, and it got me so pumped up whenever I watched it, just as much as it probably excited those who first saw the movie in theaters. Fun fact: while listening to the intro, one might notice the names Ted Elliot and Terry Rossio credited as two of the film’s screenwriters, alongside directors John Musker and Ron Clements -- down the road, Elliot and Rossio would also write the screenplay for The Road to El Dorado, join the writing team for Shrek, and be the main writing force behind the Pirates of the Caribbean films. 

As much as I rarely go for films that market themselves as comedies, I feel like Aladdin handles its comedy really well. From the beginning, we see the comedic, spontaneous tone in the peddler’s narration scene, and that tone is taken on by Gilbert Gottfried as Iago until Robin Williams reappears as the Genie later. It makes it so that, unlike Mulan where the comedy kind of starts and ends with Mushu, the comedy is a constant fixture in the story, never distracting from the plot and never feeling out of place. 

One niche interest of mine that I rarely get to delve into is color psychology, and oh BOY, does this film give me a lot to talk about there! Aladdin’s production designer, Richard Wende, used a very simple, yet striking color palette for the film that favors blues, reds, and golds. The effect is a beautifully lush setting while maintaining a “desert” feel: any greens that appear really stick out, like when Aladdin and Genie arrive in an oasis after escaping the Cave of Wonders. It also makes it so that when the background is mostly red or gold, any blue shades draw focus, or when the scene takes place at night and is mostly shades of blue, anything red or gold likewise draws focus. This post goes into the color symbolism more deeply, but generally blue is representative of good characters, while red represents evil, with gold being a sort of middle ground. Primary colors often are used in properties marketed toward children (ex. Team Valor/Instinct/Mystic in Pokemon Go, Snow White having all three colors on her dress), so it’s understandable that so many kids from the 90′s gravitated toward this movie, but the palette never feels restricted or simple. The deep, saturated fusion of reds and blues and reds and yellows creates a lot of texture despite the limited color range, and it beautifully communicates the heat of the locations and creates a unique visual style for the film. I’ve noticed that in the trailers for the remake, this color symbolism was discarded in favor of a more “Bollywood” look, not unlike how the Beauty and the Beast remake likewise ignored the color symbolism of Belle being the only villager to wear blue (which accents how much she stands apart from the crowd) and decided to dress a lot of people in blue during the opening number Belle. I can only hope the decision means the film is just choosing to make Agrabah more like India than Arabia, rather than this just being a stylistic choice with no substance, but I think the subtle color psychology in the original film is very clever short-hand for the audience, even if they’ll likely not be able to consciously express how the color palette affected their viewing experience.

As Jafar and his stooge Gazeem come across the Cave of Wonders, I’m reminded of how awesome the Cave’s design is. It was made primarily with CG animation, yet the CGI is never distracting: on the contrary, it fuses together beautifully with the rest of the hand-drawn background. Even the sandy texture on the Cave is very well rendered. Christina also noted a neat detail I hadn’t picked up on before: the tiger head has an earring in one ear, just like the Genie whose lamp lives inside the Cave!

After the Cave of Wonders devours Gazeem, declaring that it will only allow the “diamond in the rough” inside, we meet our title character and resident “diamond,” Aladdin. Voicing Aladdin is Scott Weinger, or Steve of Full House fame, who brings such charm, energy, and personality to the role. I honestly think it’d be hard for anyone else to match the sheer likability rippling out of Scott’s voice. Accompanying Weinger and Robin Williams in this stellar cast are Broadway actor Jonathan Freeman as Jafar (who has since gone on to play the character in everything from TV shows to the Broadway musical), raucous comic Gilbert Gottfried as Iago, and three voice-acting legends -- Frank Welker (who voices Shaggy and Scooby Doo) as Abu and Rajah; Jim Cummings (the current voices of Winnie the Pooh and Tigger) as Razoul; and Corey Burton (who is best known for playing Ansem the Wise in Kingdom Hearts) as Prince Tiger-Fucker Achmed. Even Jasmine, who was voiced by the at-the-time-fresh-faced actress Linda Larkin, had her singing voice done by Broadway legend Lea Salonga, fresh off her success premiering the title role in Miss Saigon. Even though many of these names aren’t celebrities like Robin Williams, and so I would hesitate to call this an “all-star cast” exactly, it doesn’t change how much talent was accrued by Disney’s casting agents! 

Unlike most main characters in a Disney musical, Aladdin doesn’t get a full solo number to call his own. Originally Howard Ashman wrote a song for Aladdin called Proud of Your Boy, where Aladdin sings to his mother (who played a large role in early drafts of the story) about how he’ll make good for her. Unfortunately the story’s focus on Aladdin and his mother’s relationship ended up taking focus away from Aladdin and Jasmine’s romance and Aladdin’s character arc to accept himself, so the screenwriters ultimately had to cut the mother character from the story, at which point the song no longer fit. The decision was very difficult for the filmmakers at the time, given that it was one of the last things Ashman wrote and it’s such a beautiful, raw song, but I ultimately think it was the right decision. Putting Aladdin on his own with no one but Abu for company and giving Jasmine no emotional support outside of her naïve, misguided father and her pet and only friend Rajah I think goes a long way to explain why they’re such kindred spirits. Aladdin and Jasmine each become the friend and support that the other needed. (This is also why Christina and I are concerned about the inclusion of a servant/friend for Jasmine, as the choice would likely weaken any rationale Jasmine could have for leaving the palace and for connecting so instantly with Aladdin.) Plus I think Aladdin’s reprise of One Jump Ahead is just as beautifully raw as Proud of Your Boy, just with a slightly different message and less words. I really feel Aladdin’s frustration and yearning for something better, and Aladdin’s singing voice Brad Kane is able to stuff so much pathos into such a short tune that a longer song isn’t even necessary. And fortunately Proud of Your Boy was later utilized in the Broadway musical version of Aladdin, so it got its dues eventually. 

At the palace, we meet our heroine, Jasmine, who was Christina’s favorite Disney character as a kid and who I personally think is the prettiest of the Disney princesses. Jasmine was designed by supervising animator Mark Henn, who modeled her after a picture of his little sister, which honestly is so sweet that I can’t stand it. What I really like about Jasmine in comparison to other Disney princesses is that she is fiery, but clever: determined, but calculating: proud, yet compassionate. It’s this balance that makes her interesting: in my mind, Jasmine is the ultimate Slytherin Disney princess (with just as Slytherin of a prince!), because unlike Ariel, she isn’t reckless in her rebellion. What’s also very cool about Jasmine is that her circumstances are a perfect contrast to Aladdin, placing them in a more romantic Prince and the Pauper set-up where they envy each other, and yet they want the same thing: freedom. In fact, all of our protagonists do -- namely, Aladdin, Jasmine, and Genie. Aladdin wants freedom from his poverty. Jasmine wants freedom from her privilege. Genie wants freedom from his purpose. They all have different cages, but they all want to be free to live their own lives, and it’s through Aladdin learning to empathize with Jasmine and Genie and see their respective prisons as clearly as his own that he grows as a character. (For a video that delves into this thought process further, please consult this piece by ScreenPrism -- it’s just beautifully done!)

Throughout the film, three animals emerge over and over -- the cobra, the elephant, and the tiger. Tigers -- which we see not only in obvious examples like Rajah and the Cave of Wonders, but also as a carving in the back of the Sultan’s throne -- are generally associated with courage and heraldry, not unlike their feline cousins, lions. The heraldry aspect I think is most relevant here -- only one who is deemed worthy, namely Aladdin, may enter the Cave of Wonders and access the wealth of kings, and when Jasmine runs away from home, she leaves Rajah, a symbol of her noble heritage, behind. Elephants in comparison are associated with wisdom and more notably royal power. In the film, Abu is transformed into an elephant steed for Aladdin when he becomes Prince Ali, and even the Sultan sits in a throne decorated with a statue of an elephant. As for the cobra, it’s entirely connected to Jafar, first as his magic scepter and then as a form Jafar takes on himself. Snakes overall are associated with many things like healing, rebirth, eternity, and the dichotomy of good and evil, but cobras specifically are the most poisonous snakes on earth. Legends even claim that Cleopatra, the last Pharaoh of Egypt, committed suicide by cobra bite. I reckon that meaning is more than enough reason for it to represent Jafar.

Through the use of a bizarre storm-making machine powered by Iago running on a treadmill-like wheel that Christina, Jen, and I thoroughly don’t understand and kind of find hilariously ridiculous, Jafar is able to discover the identity of the elusive “diamond in the rough.” He then sends the guards out to arrest Aladdin so as to coerce him into aiding him in his goal to enter the Cave, but in the process gets caught by Jasmine as he’s exiting one of the secret passages. Jen brought up the lovely point that Jafar seems to be the only person who knows about these passages in the palace, even though the Sultan presumably was raised in the palace just like Jasmine was -- this isn’t necessarily a problem, but it does make both her and me want to know the story behind this! Was Jafar basically raised in the palace too? Did Jafar partially create those passages? Were they forgotten after years of non-use and Jafar came across them by chance? It seems like there could be some fun explanation here, if someone wanted to write a fic or fan theory about it.

Okay, I really don’t want to express my concerns about the remake yet again, but I just have to say this flat-out -- there is no way that Abu in the remake could be as funny as he is in the animated film. Let’s be honest, CG characters in live-action films are almost never very charming if they’re more on the cartoony side compared to the so-called “realistic” world they’re supposed to inhabit. You can have very likable, well-developed CG characters -- just look at Aslan in The Chronicles of Narnia -- but he wasn’t solely comic relief the way Abu is, and Abu’s comedy in particular relies on a lot of cartoon-like squash and stretch that would be difficult to recreate in CG for a live-action movie. Best case scenario, you’d have something like Pip in Enchanted, which is only irritating and visually out-of-place sometimes, but alternatively, you might get something like Alvin and the Chipmunks (where the humor falls flat), Dobby in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (where it’s clear he was never actually there the whole time), and/or the enchanted objects in the live-action Beauty and the Beast (where the characters end up looking creepy, like something out of the Uncanny Valley). Basically if they want Abu to work in the live-action setting, it’s likely they’d have to make him more like an actual animal, which as I said would make it so he is a lot less funny.

Anyway, not long after Abu unlocks Aladdin’s shackles, Jafar arrives to bust him out, disguised as an old man. Just as Jafar’s storm-making machine makes no sense, the three of us all concluded that his disguise makes no sense. Not only does Jafar suddenly look a good foot and a half shorter, which even with him crouching shouldn’t be possible, but he’s changed his teeth with no visible dentures (which would’ve slurred his speech anyway) and he can get rid of all of the white hair and beard he put on just by ripping off the beard in a single gesture. As Jen brought up, even the Evil Queen used a potion to turn into the Hag: if Jafar had used magic, these sort of physical changes would make sense, but he didn’t.

Back to the Cave of Wonders again, and now I get to talk about one of the most revolutionary aspects of Aladdin: the Magic Carpet. Our sweet little Carpet is a perfect fusion of CG and hand-drawn animation -- supervising animator Randy Cartwright drew the outline and tassels of Carpet with so much personality and silent comedy, and rather than have to animate Carpet’s detailed pattern in every single frame as the fabric folded and contorted, the pencil tests were handed to the CG artists, who melded the pattern perfectly to the line work, making it one perfectly cohesive character. Carpet’s pattern also has allusions to different parts of the film, including the Cave of Wonders, the magic lamp, and the flames that appear when Abu touches the red gem. Even if the technology of CG animation is much more advanced now than it was in 90s, it doesn’t change how seamless the finished result is.

As mentioned, the Cave doesn’t remain safe for our hero very long. When Abu snatches up a gem after being warned not to touch anything, the whole place starts to fall apart, raging with lava and fire. Christina brought up the question of why the Cave would allow Abu inside, since he wasn’t the diamond in the rough (yes, Abu was hidden in Aladdin’s vest, but the Cave was magical, did it really not know he was there?), but I almost wonder if it was an issue of Aladdin having trusted Abu when he shouldn’t have, which would end up being the true mistake in this scenario. Regardless, the CGI in this particular escape sequence is some of the more outdated material of the film. The flight on Carpet is still kind of fun, as it probably would make for a very exciting thrill ride, but it still looks incredibly fake, especially in comparison to other CG elements used in other scenes. Honestly, I’d say this Cave chase and the tower used in the “ends of the earth” sequence later are the worst instances of outdated CGI in this movie.

And finally, at long last, we get to the big, blue guy himself, the Genie. As much as I wouldn’t say Genie steals the show, as Aladdin has such a likable hero and heroine and an excellent villain, Jen, Christina, and I will say categorically that Aladdin would not be as good of a movie as it is without Genie and without Robin Williams. The directors Ron Clements and John Musker wrote the character with Robin in mind, but thought there’d be no way they’d ever get him -- fortunately Eric Goldberg, the supervising animator for Genie, got the idea to make an animation of Genie speaking a piece of one of Robin’s comedy routines, and the animation amazingly won Robin over and got him on board. And really, it is that flawless combination of Robin’s acting and Goldberg’s animation that really makes Genie as likable as he is. Even Robin’s humor, which still is very funny, is not what makes Genie as great of a character as he is, in my opinion -- if anything, I’d say it’s how much sincerity Robin gives the role. Genie is never a sidekick in this movie, as he has his own distinct motivations and feelings separate to the main character and their goals, and Robin just makes you feel so much for Genie and his own desire for freedom. One quote of Genie’s that has stuck with me since I was a kid thanks to Robin’s beautiful delivery is “To be my own master -- such a thing would be greater than all the magic and all the treasures in all the world.” It makes it so his humor is a sign of how resilient Genie is, despite how unhappy his circumstances are, which is something I understand very well as someone who has suffered from depression and I’m quite sure Robin himself understood very well too. I think it’s why so many people found Robin so likable and felt so much for the characters he portrayed over the years.

Speaking on Friend Like Me specifically, I’m afraid I’ll have to go off on a bit of a tangent and share a story with all of you. The day that Robin Williams passed away, I was working at the World of Color show at Disney’s Calfornia Adventure. When the Friend Like Me segment came on, I danced along to the music while in the walkway outside the show, trying to keep the grief off of my face and just make others happy, the way Robin used to. As the segment ended, everyone applauded like crazy. Then, all of a sudden, we Cast Members became aware of a strange, sputtering, almost sobbing sound. One of the show fountains in the water had gotten out of alignment and it sputtered softly in the background as the next segment (Touch the Sky) began, before after a minute slowly quieting and coming to a stop. It was as if the show was crying for Robin, this person who had given so much joy to so many people. And this, among other reasons, is why I feel so very sorry for poor Will Smith, who somehow has to try to fill the shoes that Robin wore. Jen, Christina, and I aren’t very optimistic about his prospects (I still personally might have offered the role to Wayne Brady instead, given that he can sing, he has done comedy, and he worked with Robin in the past), as even Dan Castellanetta, who voiced Genie in the Aladdin TV series, was never able to match Robin no matter how hard he tried.

On the note of Genie’s motivation, as well, we hear about it in a scene accompanied by the beautiful instrumental “To Be Free.” It’s one of my favorite pieces of instrumental music from the film, which became one of Christina’s favorite songs from the Aladdin musical, To Be Free, which is a solo sung by Jasmine. As very pretty and appropriate the song is from Jasmine, I do also really appreciate the number accompanying Genie’s monologue. The instrumental comes across as more spontaneous and thoughtful, like it’s making itself up as it goes along, until it gets to the sincere, meaningful line about freedom, at which point the melody that inspired the song To Be Free's chorus starts.

Another neat touch with Genie is his use of Yiddisms, such as “punim,” meaning face. Of course, Genie’s animator Eric Goldberg is Jewish, and the idea of Genie being Jewish as well I just find so unbelievably charming, particularly when you place him in an Arabian-like setting full of (presumably) Muslim characters, given that the Sultan at one point references Allah. Therefore Genie and Aladdin’s (adorable) friendship could be thought of as a friendship between a Jewish person and a Muslim! I think that’s really cool!

We return to the palace, where the Sultan scolds Jafar for Aladdin’s supposed execution, only for Aladdin to burst onto the scene, dressed as the dashing Prince Ali. During this scene, Christina noted the fun juxtaposition of Jafar’s fashion choices compared to the Sultan, Genie as a human, and Aladdin as Ali. All of them wear very similar robes and turbans, but the Sultan, Genie, and Aladdin wear turbans with more rounded, floppy feathers, which Jafar’s feather is sharp and straight. Aladdin’s and the Sultan’s feather even flop into their faces sometimes, whereas Jafar’s is rigid as a board. As Jen likewise pointed out, Jafar’s design gives him this pointed, slender look not unlike Dr. Facilier in future Disney project The Princess and the Frog. The shoulder pads on his shoulders also serve to give him this sort of sharp “T” shape, contrasted to the more rounded and well-proportioned characters. Couple that with a black/red color scheme that contrasts the more saintly tannish-white of the other three, and it really does communicate the “black cloud” nature that Jafar’s supervising animator Andreas Deja wanted to give the character, to compliment the “Severus Snape” level of dry sardonicism Jonathan Freeman gave the character.

Even though the Sultan is very impressed by “Prince Ali,” Jasmine most certainly is not. Genie counsels Aladdin (with a few outdated pop culture references) that he should tell her the truth -- the nice thing about the pop culture references is that, really, even if you don’t get the jokes, you can still understand them, and the jokes still drive dialogue and plot forward enough that those lines don’t feel like a waste of time. I mean, I didn’t get most of the jokes as a kid, and it didn’t hurt anything for me -- I still thought the Genie was funny because of his comedic timing and odd voices. (Oh yes, and since Jen brought this up while we were watching this -- Aladdin does not say “take off your clothes” while up on Jasmine’s balcony: the line that Weigner improvised for when Aladdin is trying to shoo Rajah away is “take off and go.” Get your brains out of the gutter.)

Fortunately Aladdin is able to soften Jasmine enough that she gives him a chance, and the two go on a magic carpet ride (a.k.a. the fastest world tour ever, as Christina described it! LOL). Accompanying this scene is, in my opinion, the single most romantic song in the Disney canon. A Whole New World was the very first song Alan Menken and Tim Rice wrote together. After the loss of his good friend and most constant collaborator, Howard Ashman, Menken was very nervous about working with someone else. Fortunately, as soon as he and Tim Rice met, they came together pretty quickly while working on the aforementioned love song, which ended up taking some inspiration from their circumstances as new collaborators in its melody and lyrics. So yes, one could listen to this song and some of its lines -- a new, fantastic point of view -- but when I’m way up here, it’s crystal clear that now I’m in a whole new world with you -- unbelievable sights, indescribable feelings -- with new horizons to pursue -- every moment, red letter -- let me share this whole new world with you -- as being not just about these two characters falling in love, but also about a brand new, exciting friendship.

Aladdin and Jasmine connect, Jafar is banished from the palace, and the Sultan blesses Jasmine’s decision to court “Prince Ali” -- but yeah, just as everything looks like everything’s coming up roses, things start to fall apart when Aladdin breaks his promise to set Genie free. (Another fun story: when I first saw this scene in the Aladdin Musical Spectacular at Disney California Adventure way back in the day, I couldn’t stop myself from yelling “BOO!” from the audience. The people around me giggled. Then the actor playing Genie, without looking away from the actor playing Aladdin, raised a hand and pointed out at the audience. “You hear that?” he said. “That’s my THOUGHTS.” I died laughing.) But yes, thanks to Aladdin’s mistake, Jafar is able to take advantage of the situation and snatch Genie for himself, singing his own quasi-solo, Prince Ali (reprise). Like Aladdin, Jafar doesn’t get a full number to call his own, but fortunately he doesn’t end up needing one: Prince Ali (reprise) is more than powerful enough on its own, and it concludes with the most amazing, deranged laugh in Disney history. Really, as good as some other Disney villain laughs are, I would say that Jafar’s is easily the best.

Jafar becomes the Sultan of Agrabah, imprisoning both Jasmine and the Sultan and banishing Aladdin to the ends of the earth. Even if Jasmine’s a prisoner, though, she is no damsel: in Christina’s words, she’s the Princess Leia to Jafar’s Jabba the Hutt, clever and proud as ever and ready to do whatever is necessary to break free...even if it means kissing our villain in order to distract him long enough for Aladdin to try to snatch back the lamp. (Insert a cringe from all three of us here.) Alas, the ruse fails, and Jafar discovers that Aladdin has returned alive and well. The “Battle” track used for this climax is just epic accompaniment, easily being up there among some of the best “final confrontation” instrumental tracks in Disney history like Sleeping Beauty’s “Battle With the Forces of Evil” and The Great Mouse Detective’s “Big Ben Chase.” The visuals as well are also thrilling -- speaking as someone with acute ophidiophobia, Jafar turning into a giant cobra is pretty terrifying.

Despite all of the odds being against him, our diamond in the rough street rat nonetheless is able to outsmart Jafar, and Jafar, tricked into the form of a Genie, is imprisoned in his own pitch black lamp, possessing all of the power he longed for but ignorantly sacrificing the power of autonomy he had already. (As Jen said, and I quote, “Karma, bitch!”) I just adore how Aladdin outwitted Jafar too: not only does it really suit his Slytherin personality to win through craftiness rather than just brute force, but it also perfectly showcases the difference between Aladdin and Jafar: namely, that Aladdin knows empathy, and Jafar does not. Jafar only sees what Genie has that he doesn’t have, supreme magical power, and longs to possess it -- Aladdin sees Genie’s circumstances fully and knows that he is both amazingly powerful in a magical sense and utterly powerless when it comes to making his own choices.

Accompanying the film’s resolution is the beautiful instrumental “Happy End in Agrabah,” which dips into lighthearted whimsy, resignation, bittersweet joy and exhilaration, alongside echoes of both “To Be Free“ and A Whole New World. Aladdin gives Genie his greatest desire -- his freedom -- and in the process makes, in Jen’s words, the most selfless wish you could make...for only a diamond in the rough would make a wish for someone else, not for himself. And as Jen also pointed out, the Sultan follows Aladdin’s lead, giving Jasmine her freedom just as Aladdin gave Genie his. Our story ends with all of our protagonists earning the freedom that they’ve so longed for -- the freedom to achieve their own happiness -- through their love of each other.

Aladdin may be very “of its era” from a humor point of view, but it’s a movie that truly becomes more resonant with age. When Jen, Christina, and I were kids, we all enjoyed this movie’s flights of fantasy, humor, characters, and songs, but as adults, we can feel for these characters and their desire for freedom more than ever. We can understand how similar these individual characters are, and how even though they’re all in different prisons with different advantages and disadvantages, they all need the same key to unlock their cages -- love and empathy. However much the new Aladdin film diverges from the animated version, I only hope that they remember that core of the movie and how it is integrated into the entire story, from how much Aladdin wishes people would “look closer” when looking at him to Genie’s last words to Aladdin being that “no matter what anybody says, [Aladdin will] always be a prince to [Genie.]” And if it doesn’t, well, we still have the 1992 original...

...and Christina, Jen, and I give that movie three thumbs up!

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Persona Problems: Apathy Syndrome, Mental Shutdowns, and Reverse Cases

Sooooo uhhh I can’t sleep so might as well ramble about this.

Comparing and contrasting the 3, ranting on why Mental Shutdowns are called Mental Shutdowns and why it’s stupid, and trying to fix PTS’ Reverse Cases.

An issue I’ve had with P5 tbh (I think I’ve talked about this before), but while thinking about it I realized that......my own idea of fixing P:TS’ Reverse Cases instead....made me realized some complications (I mean the complication was there to begin with but I’ll get to that). 

Anyway I’ll save Reverse Cases for last since I’m sure most of you are only here for P3/5. 8U

So one thing that bothered me in P5 is.....the fact they call Mental Shutdowns well...Mental Shutdowns. I mean because....it’s just Apathy Syndrome (or at least, how it’s called by the public, “Mass Lethargy Syndrome, which we find out in P4D, as a similar case is happening there).

Well let me explain what each one basically is.

Apathy Syndrome. is basically when a person’s shadow goes on vacation in P3, and Nyx/Full Moon bosses be giving out those vacation tickets like Oprah when well....the Full moon comes around. 8U I mean technically the person’s shadow gets “eaten” by a Dark Hour Shadow (and yes it’s their shadow, MegaTen says “psyche” but it’s clarified more that by psyche they mean shadow). Basically, while there are technicalities in HOW the shadow isn’t in the person’s body, the fact remains it happens because the shadow is not in the body. As for what happens to the person, they usually go into a coma/vegetative state and will die without medical help.

Mass Lethargy Syndrome: 

Now let’s look at Mental Shutdowns. It happens when a Shadow Self is killed.....ok.....so basically that means the Shadow is not there anymore. The Shadow is not in the body. Basically the same exact thing as Apathy Syndrome. What happens to the body? Same exact thing as Apathy Syndrome, they go into coma/vegetative state and will die without medical help. I mean sometimes they’ll die right on the spot for no good reason(ok maybe not RIGHT on the spot, stupid delay reaction Okumura....fudging things up), but of the 3/4 we saw, we know 2/3 (dunno if I should count train guy, but Wakabe and Kobayashi def count) died because they fell in traffic and not by whatever Okumura conveniently got. Also this doesn’t count Ichiko’s friend who was just in a coma, so it seems Okumura’s reaction is.....VERY rare. Btw fun fact, in P3′s 1st movie, something similar happens at a train station that mirrors Wakabe/Kobayashi, someone gets Apathy syndrome and falls in front of a train (I know it’s the movie, but the game DOES say there was a delay and the movie spells it out for us it’s cause of a body on the train tracks so.....there might be some weight to the movie). 

Now PTS....I’m....I’m mostly gonna focus on Reverse Cases, I mean this anime has Apathy Syndrome but I don’t recall it (or I didn’t get that far into it), and the wiki states it’s when a Persona is taken or destroyed, while Reverse Cases (as well as Kagenuki) specifically mention Shadows....and I dunno it could be P:TS being weird again and not knowing how the relationship between Personas/Shadows work, but then again Kagenuki was used so that people could tell if that person has a strong shadow and thus strong Persona and....basically I don’t think the creators through it through or the wiki is missing some info. ANYWAY, Reverse Cases are similar, it’s where a Shadow is forcibly taken by another Persona user for a certain goal of summoning something more powerful by gathering those Personas (if any of you Arena/Ultimax fans feel like you might’ve heard something like this before yeah I think they repurposed P:TS’s thing), and when that happens the person is turned inside out! Whoops! Well that’s a bit different, but hey same concept, shadow leaving the body (THAT BEING SAID it’s understandable why it’s called something different, the outcome is different compared to AS and MS). (btw Kagenuki is where you pull a Shadow/Persona out but it’s used to relieve stress or some BS, it’s temporary and....it’s kinda more like you are forcing someone to summon their Persona rather than take it....unless you are discount Strega aka Marebito then they are trying to actually take it).

Fun Fact: P2IS I believe is the first place that showcases Apathy Syndrome (or whatever we wanna call all 3/4 of these things), as the character Yukino experience similar symptoms when her Shadow Self commits suicide. P2IS didn’t have a name for it but....just a fun fact. 8U

Anyway before I pick apart P:TS’ mess, lemme get back to P5. Why the fudge do they call it something different? Like I GET MS’ process is a little different, but the outcome is pretty much identical, esp to the public....who are the one’s naming the phenomenon. Like us the players know it’s different, one is caused by the Dark Hour and is temporary, the other is caused by Goro being an asshole and it seems like this one is a bit more permanent....BUT THE PUBLIC DOESN’T KNOW THAT! To them it should be “Apathy Syndrome/Mass Lethargy Syndrome has returned and a new phenomenon ‘Psychotic Breakdowns’ has emerged!” you could possibly connect them due to both showing up at around the same time, but calling AS something different? No, to the public it’s pretty much the same, people are becoming vegetables and we dunno how to help them. In all honesty, just because the way shadows are leaving people’s bodies are a bit different, I don’t think it warrants a new name...in fact I think it can be confusing “Wait isn’t it basically the same thing? How/why is it called something different?” it just raises unneeded questions. And no you can’t make the argument that ‘maybe AS wasn’t well known’ because 1) it’s mentioned later in P4D (and I think even in Arena), albeit by a different but similar sounding title and 2) even a small town like Inaba’s murder mystery was still being alluded to in P5 about 5ish years later in-game....and Iwatodai is a city and it was being talked about on the news A LOT.....so no it’s not a small town/city thing.

But...”Well why aren’t you complaining about P4D’s re-name?” Probably cause the rumor of knowing the cause of MLS vs AS/MS. MLS is associated with the cursed video, while AS/MS are unknown to the public..... Or maybe AS was just known as MLS to the mass public or it’s a phenomenon where a bunch of people fall to AS, I need to replay P4D tbh if there are additional details I’m missing, but the fact remains that, to the public, MLS has a possible root cause while the other two do not so it’s possible to let that slide....tho it brings up the fact MS should either be called AS or MLS.... Esp because there’s also the fact that P4D is probably taking place in Tokyo (P3/4/4D basically just call it “the city,” but I think it’s heavily hinted to be Tokyo, heck a quick google search lead me to a LMB festival look alike, aka Tokyo Idol Festival so....yeah 8U). Which makes it even more jarring for P5 since WE KNOW it takes place in Tokyo so why are they using two names for the same thing??? It’s like.....calling the Chicken Pox something like “Polly Pocket Pox,” same symptoms, we just feel like calling it something totally random and new now for no reason even tho it’s literally the exact same thing in everyone’s eyes. 8U 

Anyway end rant on P5′s annoying alt naming, now for P:TS.

So.....Reverse Cases are a bit of a mess....both in the show (damn it be bloody) and.....lore wise (not new to P:TS bless its soul....haha soul....pun not intended). Lore wise it doesn’t make sense. I mean P3/4D/5′s way of doing it we basically have different ways of doing X1+A/B/C but we still get the same Y (basically X+A=Y, X+B=Y, and X+C=Y for P3/4D/5 respectively, X=a shadow leaving, A/B/C=the different forms aka Full Moon/Cursed Video/Goro-murders). RC is different, it’s end result is different even if say.....it’s the same as P5 (P5 involve another human harming another Person’s shadow so yeah). So with PTS, instead of X+C=Y, it’s now X+C=Z (Shadow leaving+basically stealing and absorbing the shadow=a person explodes).....so with PT X+C≠Y.....and that’s.....that’s some problems. Because PTS equates the shadow leaving with the person exploding (we’re ignoring AS in this universe cause....we don’t need more problems).

So....to fix it.....I originally thought “maybe add one more thing to the equation!” Have it be X+C+D=Z. With D= maybe the shadow goes berserk before it’s eaten and that’s how the person is exploded. Kinda similar to how Personas can turn on their user in P3 and strangle them....or in P4 the Shadow Selves....do something that kills them. I mean they both try to kill their hosts and seem to do different things to get the job done, and how they do it could result in a different outcome (P3 it’s strangulation tho not sure if traceable, P4 it’s unknown, PTS it’s explosion). There fix right? Nope.......I realized, thanks to P4 esp....there’s an issue....And this exists with how RCs already operate not just my fix it tweak. The issue is that.....once the person is killed, the shadow self (and by extension the Persona) disappears with it.... 

“Ok how is that bad?” Well the point of the RC are that the Marebito are gathering Shadows(/Personas) to make themselves stronger (and so that what’s his face can summon something, keeping it vague for spoilers but hey already dropped a spoiler so whatevs). But.....as soon as the Person explodes that Shadow should cease to exist. Rendering everything moot.

Which means we need to change PTS again, and we can do it a few ways thankfully! I mean you might have to rewrite PTS for some of the options but.....like it already needs rewrites so klnvkds;vna Anyway here’s what we can do:

No RCs! Instead it’s just Apathy Syndrome a new wave. What ain’t broke don’t fix it. Personas/Shadows are still stolen, but we just keep the symptoms as AS and just call it AS (or MLS, I’m down for either)

Might be an issue with getting the police involved, so either with the revamp have Shadow Ops be involved 

Or make it so the police think AS in PTS has a different patter compared to P3′s so they think it might be a group or some BS.

Keep the RC, but don’t make it about stealing shadows/personas to make something stronger or summon something. Instead just make it about a (or a group of) serial killer(s)! 

Either they just use their Persona to explode people

Or they utilize the Kagenuki to draw out the shadow self to do it for them!. 

Use both 1 and 2, by which I mean I guess pull a P5 (aka have two going at the same time like P5 has with Mental Shutdowns and Psychotic Breakdowns, and RC could be the reason the police get involved), AS is when they steal the shadow, RC is when they wanna kill a person without the weird as time delay MS has at times. 

I feel like I had more to say but it’s late and.....I think I’ll just end it here. 8V