#it's such a tragedy that it never got a proper anime adaptation :(

[thevagueambition]

nothing has ever done it like when Sarasa finds out Shuri is The Red King in Basara and nothing has ever done it like when they reconcile at the end. enemies to lovers this, enemies to lovers that. how about mortal enemies meeting under pseudonyms and falling in love, huh?! how about them meeting in secret because Sarasa has to hide she's a woman from her army and Shuri has to leave behind the mask of The Red King to be human every once in a while!! how about dramatically finding out that your lover is also your mortal enemy!!!! how about the original bad guy, who is at this point a minor villain compared to the rest of his family, leaving imperialist violence behind and eventually reconciling with his love! how about that, huh!!!!!!

[linklethehistorian]

Randou and the Sins of Season 3's Fifteen Adaption (Part 42/???)

Bones' Biggest Changes & Greatest Failures — The Tragedy of Arthur Rimbaud (21/?)

I suspect that many people are likely to want to argue here that the anime’s chosen starting point was nothing less than a ‘sensible’ one, given that so many people seem to subscribe to the belief that the other part was somehow ‘unnecessary’ or filler content, but I’m afraid I have to protest this supposed fact; indeed, even if someone as important and well-respected within the BSD community as Lea herself has come to think with time that perhaps this information wasn’t important to keep, I still have to respectfully but vehemently disagree with that sentiment in every way, because it is absolutely not just a throwaway conversation included for the reader’s amusement or even solely important to the proper establishment of Sheep as an organization.

Yes, it certainly fulfills those purposes as well, but every part of this scene — from its absolute, true beginning to its eventual end — is also incredibly rich in crucial characterization and plot points for not just one, not just two or three, but four major characters in this book, even if we completely disregard how it effects Sheep itself entirely.

On Dazai's Skin-Deep Kindness & Playfulness, and His True Views

In Dazai’s case, these events play an invaluable role in defining his current views and attitude at this age, which — despite any previous remarks I may have made about them not always being that necessary to show in Fifteen as a whole, due to the fact that he already has more than enough canon character-establishing material centered around him as it is — in this one particular moment, is actually desperately needed to make the story work as it was intended to and have its full impact.

While it may have been mostly harmless, in my opinion, to tone down some of his childishness and playful inclinations throughout much of the rest of the adaption and swap it out for a Dark Era-esque version of him to properly represent his inner thoughts and feelings in a more explicit way, this is one instance where doing so will absolutely devastate everything that truly matters about the plot and its characters, and that is exactly what Bones did once they got their hands on it — and exactly what they wanted to do, for that matter.

You see, in taking out the entire conversation about the party that happened between Dazai and Randou at the beginning of the phase and the discussion of the “theory of the half-grilled meat” that followed thereafter, Osamu is instantly scrubbed clean of all of the most damning parts of his personality that are present here, as well as the full reality of his heartless nature — and the same applies to the changes made to the dialogue in his inevitable confrontation and naming of the culprit, too.

Without any of the context of the preceding talk, the revelation that Dazai has set up some elaborate party for Chuuya to celebrate his newfound freedom seems especially kind and sweet of a gesture for someone who claims to despise the redhead; combine this with the altered dialogue in the adaption’s arcade scene that now portrays Dazai as having defended him and even expressed extreme disgust and resentment towards Sheep for using him, and you’ve got the ultimate falsified and doctored recipe for setting the stage to make the young bandage-wearing man look like the perfect white knight for his reluctant partner in crime.

However, if one were to truly take a step back and view the source material’s version of all of this, that illusion would quickly shatter and fall apart at the seams, as not only would it become abundantly clear that Dazai never seriously came to Chuuya’s aid in that sense at the arcade to begin with, but it would also reveal his alleged ‘kindness’ for what it really is — shallow, insincere, and sometimes even downright sinister.

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[animebw]

Pandora Hearts: Series Reflection

I said back at the start of my binge-watch that Pandora Hearts felt like a relic of a particularly dull era in anime history, and that assessment has proved true to the end. The transitional period between cell and digital animation was messy, messy, messy, and the qualities of that mess are all on display here. It’s overall just not a nice looking show; it moves clunkily, the directing is basically nil, the animation is limited as hell, and the overall aesthetic feels muddy and lifeless. It has neither the detail and grit of good cell animation nor the fluidity and beauty of good digital animation. It exists in that uncomfortable in-between state where it doesn’t know how to be what it wants to be, and it’s never able to fully escape those claws. And considering it came out in the same season as freaking FMAB, it really has no excuse to feel like a low-rent J.C.Staff production from 2004. So the fact that I still enjoyed Pandora Hearts in spite of these huge issues is a testament to how damn good this story is at its core. If ever there was an anime in desperate need of a modern remake a la Fruits Basket or Hunter X Hunter, Pandora Hearts would be it. If given the chance to actually play to its strengths, I feel like this could end up something really special.

In a word, the key component that makes this story work is intrigue. Pandora Hearts’ plot is a complicated clockwork contraption of fantasy rules and lore, but it makes a shocking deal of sense the more you learn about it. It drip-feeds details about what’s actually going on, how the characters’ past influences their present and how events from a hundred years ago still echo through the plot today. By keeping a steady stream of information going, it keeps you constantly eager to find out more about the secrets still to be revealed. And by and large, the reveals are all immensely satisfying. My usual reaction to finding out a new piece of information was “Oh shit, nice! That really makes sense!” Which is an indication that the mysteries have all been very carefully planned out, and this story knows exactly where it’s going with them. It’s a shame the adaptation has to cut short while the story’s still so unfinished, because there are plenty of niggling questions I still want answers to.

But while the unspooling mysteries were what got my attention, it was the endearing characters and their strong relationships that eventually won my long-term investment. Oz, Gilbert, Alice, Oscar, Sharon, and especially Break are all such lovable losers, with distinct personalities capable of making me laugh and making me feel in equal measure. And by leaning so hard into the camaraderie they form, the show really does make them feel like a family. You get a sense that these people genuinely care about each other underneath the bickering. It also helps that their mysterious backstories are all tied to the greater mysteries of the plot, so learning more about what’s going on in the story also lets us understand the players on this battlefield in more detail, what drives them, what they’ve left behind, their hopes, their regrets, their fears, how eerily similar their mutual struggles and tragedies have been. Every step into the thicket of conspiracy and danger is also a step closer to the heart of these characters, and for all its rustiness, that heart is still full and beating and warm. As long as you’ve got that in place, I can forgive a lot.

In the end, Pandora Hearts as it exists right now is far from a masterpiece. The only truly excellent aspect of its adaptation is the soundtrack, while everything else is merely not ruined at best. But it leaves me hopeful that someday, this story can get a proper treatment, with an animation team capable of bringing its surreal dark fantasy to life for its entire run. I think that would really be one for the ages. Until then, I give Pandora Hearts a score of:

6/10

And that’s another one down. Thank you for joining me! If you’ve enjoyed my analysis and want more of me, feel free to ask for an invite to my Discord where you can hang out and chat about the shows I’m watching with me and fellow anime fans. And I hope you stick around for the show that will take its place:

Yama no Susume

Cute girls climbing mountains, here we go. See you next time for the start of a new adventure!

[normal-thoughts-official]

Words that you bury

A retelling of the most meaningful moments between Raphael and Magnus, when Raphael was staying at Magnus' home.

Or: 6 times Raphael and Magnus said "te quiero" to each other, and one time they said something else

Relationships: Magnus Bane & Raphael Santiago

Rating: M

Category: gen

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Past Abuse, Found Family, magnus is raphael's dad fight me on this, blink and you'll miss it Trans Magnus Bane, camille belcourt is an abuser, lots of crying ngl

Read it on Ao3

“I’m sorry,” Raphael says. Again and again and again, “Dios, I’m so sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry,” Magnus says. His hand hovers over Raphael’s shoulder, debating whether or not to touch it with the air. Every time it moves, Raphael lets out another sob, and Magnus recoils like an animal being attacked. Which is absurd. If anything, Raphael should be the scared animal in this situation. But there Magnus is, scared of a little touch, unable to help him.

“It’s so disgusting,” Raphael continues, and Magnus takes it for the yes, there is that he knows it is. His chest feels like it’s closing in on itself. Magnus tries not to fold in half under the force of it. “Why can’t I stop?”

“You’ve gone over a month without eating,” he tries to reason. “You can’t help being hungry, my boy.”

“This is not- it’s not hunger. Look around you! Look what I did!”

“It’s just a kitchen.”

“It’s- it’s all red.”

“From donated blood,” Magnus repeats. “I told you that, dear, no one was hurt for these. It’s okay.”

He had arrived home to find the kitchen essentially covered in his blood stock, which he had been keeping for Raphael ever since he first rescued him, over a month ago. It was the first time Raphael had used it.

The fact that it was splattered everywhere, and that Raphael had been at the middle, sobbing and bloody, told him that he might not have made that choice, though.

“I lost control,” Raphael continued, like Magnus hadn’t said anything. “I lost control, I just launched at it, now it’s everywhere, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Magnus says, “you were hungry. You didn’t hurt anyone.”

“I’m not hungry. When I’m hungry I eat frijoles, I eat arroz de choclo, tortillas, enfrijoladas, un chicharrón que sea. This is blood."

"Donated blood. From mundanes with the Sight who want to help people like you. You didn't hurt anyone, Raphael."

"It doesn't matter! I don't want this. I want to be normal. I want to see Rosita. She was having such a hard time adapting here, she needs me-"

It pains Magnus to have to hold Raphael down, but he has no idea what Raphael might do in this state, with his super speed and strength. There's still sunlight outside and he could burn himself. And he worries Raphael would also hurt himself in… non-accidental ways.

"You need to be well first, dear. You're still weak. And still hungry," he says, trying to make his voice as comforting as he can. Raphael still recoils like he's been punched, though.

"No, I'm not gonna- I'm not. She's my sister! I wouldn't- no!"

"I know you wouldn’t. But seeing her like this will make you feel worse. You can barely stand up, dear." He doesn’t say that he’s seen it happen. Way too many times. Desperate vampires, wanting so bad to be normal, thinking if only they can stay away from eating long enough, everything you go back to normal. Then they see mundanes, and they snap, and it makes them feel worse. Magnus doesn’t want that to happen to Raphael. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to take it.

And Magnus doesn’t want to see any more suffering in this world.

“I-” Raphael says. Then he drops down back on the ground, cross legged, hugging his knees. “I know.” He looks at Magnus with his big, brown eyes, and they’re so full of pain it makes Magnus feel like his guts are bursting, ugly and everywhere. It reminds him too much of himself. “I can never see them again, can I?”

It’s a question, but doesn’t sound like one.

Magnus still hesitates to answer it.

“Maybe you can still say goodbye,” he says, because he knows the silence will just hurt Raphael more. “I know some people who did. You just need to be- well, first.”

“How can I,” Raphael says, his eyes puffy and red and angry, “ever be well?”

Magnus stops.

He could be cheery. He could be bubbly. He could tell Raphael that everything’s gonna be okay, that he’s okay, that he’s gonna be rich and happy and find a family. He could keep up with the detached, perfect persona he’s been playing since way before Raphael arrived, but particularly after that.

Instead, he says, “my mom killed herself.”

Raphael’s whole face transforms, from anger to a mix of confusion, understanding, sympathy, and something else Magnus can’t quite put his finger on. Something that looks that an older brother taking his sister to school. Something like- caring.

Magnus looks away.

“She- my eyes,” he continues. “She was so scared. My stepfather kept telling her about the devil, and then- then she saw it in me.”

A beat.

“My stepfather tried to kill me. I- I killed him first. It made me feel like the devil my mom feared I’d become.”

He turns to Raphael again, and that- undecipherable look is stronger than before. It takes up his whole features.

“It’s not- well. These kinds of things don’t- go away. I didn’t just lose my family then, I lost my city, my culture, my people. Myself.

“It’s not okay,” he continues, “but I am. Or- as much as I can. You find out that life goes on. That there’s more to it than the pain, even if it’s still there. I have more people now. I have another family. And you,” he gives him a sad smile, “you have me, at the very least.”

Raphael’s lip starts trembling, so he adds, “I’m not going anywhere.”

And Raphael breaks down.

It’s ugly, loud tears, sobs that rip him in half, burning all the way up. It’s hands gripping onto nothing so hard that his nails are about the break the skin. He shakes in a silent yell, already hoarse without a single word; raw and trapped in his pain.

And Magnus holds him. He slowly takes Raphael’s hands and put them around him, so he can grip Magnus’ shirt instead. He doesn’t want Raphael to hurt himself.

“It’s okay,” he says when Raphael visibly strains not to grip him, “it won’t hurt me, I’m a warlock. Let it out.”

It’s a lie, because Raphael has super strength and the way he grips Magnus digs his fingers into his skin and burns him in pain. But he doesn’t let a single sound out, knowing that soon the grip will make the skin numb. Raphael needs it, and he doesn’t mind.

“Mi hermanita,” Raphael cries, “está tan sola, tan…” he sobs, “me muero.”

Magnus struggles to remember the little spanish he had learnt when he went to Peru. He knows it’s something about his little sister, and- dying?

“Lo siento,” he says, because that’s something he remembers. I’m sorry.

“Me muero,” Raphael repeats.

“You’re not dying,” Magnus shakes his head. “You’re alive, okay? You’re a person. You’re a human. Estás vivo.”

Raphael keeps crying, albeit more silently. Magnus tries his hardest to think of something comforting to say to him, with his limited vocabulary. He knows that sometimes hearing Malay is all he needs to feel grounded, comforted, home. Aku cinta kamu, his mother would say to him before he went to bed. Her native tongue was Javanese, but since his stepfather didn’t speak it and she mostly had to speak Malay in the docks, that’s the language he was raised in. He never learnt Javanese, which makes him feel like a piece of him is missing sometimes.

“Te quiero,” Magnus says, suddenly inspired. It’s all right to say te quiero, right? Raphael has been living with him for a month after all. “Te quiero bién,” he adds on second thought. I want you well. Or at least he hopes that’s what he’s saying.

Raphael nods, still a little lost in his tragedy stupor. Magnus lets him, and keeps stroking his hair and repeating softly, te quiero, te quiero, estarás bién. Until Raphael finally stills, head still hiding in Magnus’ shoulder, but no longer shaking with sobs. Magnus idly realizes that his legs hurt from kneeling besides Raphael for so long, but he doesn’t care.

They stay like this, lost in stillness, until he feels Raphael’s hands letting go of his back. The blood flow returns to the abused areas, and Magnus has to hold back a hiss at the sudden mix of pain and relief. Then Raphael looks up at him. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I made a mess.”

Magnus looks around, at the bloody state of his kitchen. “Oh, this?” he asks, deliberately light, and then flicks his wrist in an also deliberate flourish. Suddenly the kitchen is sparkling clean. “Pay it no mind, dear.” The wet stains in both his and Raphael’s clothes have disappeared, and he also took away the pain in Raphael’s eyes for crying so much.

It takes Raphael a second to recoil. “Warlocks got all the fun parts out of this whole ‘devil blood’ thing, huh,” he says. It borders on bitter, but there’s some humor in it, too.

“Demon blood,” Magnus corrects, because he knows the weight the word devil carries. “And I think we could do with super strength or speed, but that’s my personal opinion.”

Raphael barks out a laugh, which clearly surprises him more than anyone.

Magnus smiles at him. “Come on, there’s more where those came from. Are you still hungry?”

Raphael’s wide-eyed nod tugs at Magnus’ heartstrings, but at least he’s not disgusted by it anymore. Magnus’ smile widens in encouragement. “Okay. Sit down, let’s give you a more proper meal.”

Raphael huffs, but doesn’t say anything. Magnus knows that, if mexicans are anything like javanese people, the concept of a meal probably involves several dishes, a lot of people, and at least two hours.

The look in Raphael’s face indicates that mexicans are exactly like the javanese. With a flourish of his hands - more ostentatious than necessary, so Raphael isn’t surprised by the sudden apparition - he conjures up a new bag of blood, except the bag is a dark blue instead of transparent, with a few jasmines along with the plate.

“Flowers?” Raphael says, amused, “What is this?”

“Well, you were clearly disdainful of my meal offer, so I thought I’d step up my game. Can’t have a warlock leaving people unimpressed, my dear.”

Raphael lets out a full, smooth laugh this time, one that doesn’t feel punched out of him. “Thank you,” he says, then looks between him and the plate, hesitating.

Magnus takes that as his cue. “Right,” he says swiftly, “I should probably go check the inventory of my apothecary. If you’ll excuse me.” and turns around to leave in long, fast strides.

“Magnus,” Raphael calls for him right as he’s about to reach the door.

He turns back to him almost sharply. “Yes?” he asks, with a small tilt of his head and raise of his eyebrows.

“Te quiero también” Raphael says.

I love you too.

“Oh.”

Raphael gives him a small smile, and when Magnus turns to leave again, his steps are a little less elegant, but a lot lighter.

*

“Magnus, what the fuck?” Raphael asks.

Magnus pauses, stick still halfway on hitting the dummy. He turns to Raphael quickly, but in a small movement; stopping with legs close together, feet touching, arms down, head slightly tilted to the right. He makes sure his shoulders are relaxed so his stance doesn’t seem guarded, but holds still so it doesn’t seem threatening, either. Glamor up, stick gone, breathing silent. He widens his eyes slightly. “Did something happen?”

The vampire is suddenly behind him, and Magnus resists the urge to jump. He knows the boy would not attack him, particularly not in this weakened state. He doesn’t want to act frightened and make him feel worse. He takes a deep breath and does not move.

The boy’s hands touch his back where it’s exposed under his tank top. His touch is so gentle it’s barely there, and Magnus thinks his hand might be only hovering close. He remains still and tries not to invade Raphael’s space.

Raphael takes in a sharp breath. “You’re bruised up.”

Magnus frowns. “I was only practicing. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

“No,” Raphael says, almost angry. “This is not- This is-”

Magnus turns again. Slowly, small movements, hands raised but close to his torso, feet touching again by the time he’s done. Raphael is pursing his lips repeatedly, head shaking slightly like its thoughts are scrambling up its balance. Magnus stays still.

Finally, Raphael speaks, tone so icy it burns. “I did this.”

“My bo-,” Magnus shakes his head. Condescendance won’t help. “What are you talking about? I didn’t even know it was-”

“Perfect shape of my fist. It was- You fucker, you said it wouldn’t hurt you.”

Ah. “It didn’t.”

“It’s purple, Magnus.”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not. Come on, sit,” he says, pointing at Magnus’ own couch. Magnus drags it towards himself, silently showing Raphael that he’s fine. Raphael snorts, but there’s no humor in it.

Magnus sits down.

“Dónde está….. Que coño,” Raphael mutters to himself. “Don’t you have some sort of balm to treat these wounds?” he speaks up. He’s pacing around Magnus’ apothecary so fast Magnus feels dizzy. Fledgelings are like kittens, way too energetic and way too unaware of that. “An apothecary as big as this, and you only-”

Magnus doesn’t keep a lot of balms. He doesn’t need them himself, and when he needs one for someone else, he simply brews it. He thinks over a way to help Raphael calm down.

“I can magick it away,” he offers.

“No,” Raphael answers, turning his head towards Magnus sharply. “I did this, I have to fix it.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Magnus protests.

“I gripped you so tight it bruised, Magnus.”

“I told you, it doesn’t hurt. It’s, uh, a warlock thing.”

“Then why does it bruise?,” Raphael hisses. Then he takes a quick step back, like he’s been spooked. “Please don’t lie to me,” he says, voice small, head down.

Magnus’ heart aches. “It really didn’t hurt,” he tries.

“I know warlocks feel pain. I’ve seen Ragnor stub his toe, remember?”

Despite himself, Magnus snorts. “The old man is just dramatic.”

“I’m not about to dispute that,” Raphael mutters, “but I know that you don’t have a higher pain tolerance. And if you had, it would make no sense for the body to bruise. That’s a reaction to hurt.”

“Fine, it didn’t hurt a lot, then. I knew I could take it. I’m used to it.”

Raphael’s face turns even sadder, and Magnus scrambles his brain to find what he did wrong.

“I shouldn’t hurt you at all, Magnus.”

“Nonsense, it’s fine-”

“No mames, cabrón” Raphael mutters to himself. Magnus doesn’t know what that means, but with the way it stings with barely concealed anger, he doesn’t have to. “Just tell me where the balm is. Or whatever you use to treat this kind of wound.”

Magnus sighs, deciding not to argue over this anymore. Raphael is having a hard time, after all. “Third drawer to your left,” he says, silently magicking a little pot there. It’s not as good as his hand brewn one, of course, but it’s a little thing that will certainly lessen the purpleing. Raphael is by his side within a second, balm in hand. Magnus does jump this time, then curses himself for losing control like that.

“Sorry,” Raphael says.

“It’s alright,” Magnus says, “superspeed does that.”

“No,” Raphael clarifies, “well, yes, but I also meant- I’m just sorry.”

Magnus softens like a balloon deflates; so quick it’s scary. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” he says, turning to Raphael on instinct.

“I hurt you. You are already letting me stay here-”

“Don’t.”

Raphael scoffs. “It’s true.”

“No. I brought you here. I invited you to stay. I told you it was okay-”

“Right, and now I can’t believe you, can I, because clearly you would tell me that it was alright, and let me take and take, and get hurt!”

Magnus’ vision feels foggy. For a second, he doesn’t know why. “I-” he begins, but finds himself with no sentence to form.

Raphael’s tone is a lot quieter now. It still rings on Magnus ears, clear as water over the deafening silence that Raphael’s scream left behind. It’s like his shout itself created stillness.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he says, biting his lip, “I don’t want to, I- I’m scared of hurting anyone.”

Magnus’ tear falls, but his vision only clears for a second before the fogginess returns. “I’m sorry,” he says, feeling like a kid who just got scolded.

Raphael shakes his head, but there are no tears for him to wipe. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing,” he says, and it would sound like a laugh if it wasn’t so bitter. Magnus shrinks into himself again. “But don’t do that again. Don’t hurt to make me feel better. Te quiero, ¿sí? Y te quiero bién,” he says, so smoothly even Magnus feels calmed by the words, despite them being nowhere as familiar to him as they are to Raphael. “So your hurt won’t do me any good.”

“Okay,” Magnus says simply. He vaguely has the presence of spirit to admire Raphael for using Magnus’ own words against him like that. This boy is way smarter than he gives himself credit for. “Okay.”

Raphael’s lips quirk up, pursed and sad. “All right then. Let’s treat these bruises. Can you take off your shirt so I can see them better?”

Magnus nods. “Of course, my boy.”

*

Raphael crashes home like lightning on a sunny day; so sudden and loud you’re not even sure it happened.

He slumps against the door, shaking slightly, eyes shut like he’s trying to lock them away.

Magnus’ magic reaches out to him before he even thinks about it. “Raphael,” he says, getting up. There’s no sign of injuries. But he can barely stand straight.

Magnus doesn’t have the time to ask. He draws in a sharp breath, shaky and pained like a dying animal’s. “I went to see my sister.”

“Oh,” is all Magnus can say. Did he try to tell her? He knows Raphael’s family is very religious; maybe she didn’t want to accept him. His heart aches, filled with worst-case scenarios: did she try to kill him? Was he hurt? Did she cry? Did she scream at him to leave, terrified-

“I said goodbye,” Raphael finishes, words leaving his throat like a final breath. He shuts his eyes again, fists tightly against the door like they’re supporting him more than his legs are.

“Okay,” Magnus says, “okay.” He takes a deep breath so his voice sounds smooth and quiet, “let’s take you to the couch, yeah? Let’s rest a little.”

Raphael nods, slowly like he needs to think hard to remember how to do it. Magnus doesn’t let it deter him. “I’m going to put your arm over my shoulders, is that alright?” Raphael nods again. It’s a short walk to the couch, and he doesn’t need to support the entirety of Raphael’s weight, Raphael being more shaky than weak. But it feels like a run on the desert, feverishly painful.

He makes no move to go away once Raphael is settled (maybe he should have, he doesn’t know if he wants company, doesn’t know if he’s intruding, this is about his family, after all, what does Magnus understand-), but Raphael still grabs his arm once he lets him go. “It’s alright,” Magnus says, squeezing his knee slightly. “I’m here.”

Raphael nods again.

They stay in silence.

Magnus doesn’t know how long. Feels like years, his heart beating anxiously in his chest as Raphael cries, terrifyingly still. He shakes is an almost defiant way, his body held tight and tense, the few tears that manage to break free quickly wiped away. Magnus doesn’t know what to make of it, so he settles for caressing Raphael’s hair and repeating estarás bien every once in a while.

You’ll be alright. He’s not sure how effective it is, but every time he says it, Raphael nods, so he thinks that at the very least, it’s helping ground him a little.

Eventually, Raphael opens his eyes.

It’s only then that Magnus realizes he had been holding his breath, too.

His body is still tense, but he doesn’t relax, not yet.

His heart beats anxiously, and Raphael stays still.

“I said goodbye. It’s done,” is the first thing he says, tone boiling with finality. “I told her I couldn’t see her again.”

“Did you say why?” Magnus asks.

Raphael shakes his head. “No. I couldn’t.” He finally turns to look at Magnus, searching him like he expects to see judgement there. Magnus can’t judge him. Not one bit. Raphael turns away again, “It was dangerous enough to go see her, but- I knew how to not hurt her, and I couldn’t- I couldn’t not-”

He stops abruptly, taking another deep breath.

“She started crying as soon as she saw me. Hugged me so tight- if I was still a person she’d have broken my bones.”

“A mundane,” Magnus corrects; heart clenching and unable to let it go unchallenged.

“That’s what I meant.”

They look at each other.

Magnus caves. “So what did you tell her?”

“I told her that I’m okay. That she doesn’t need to worry. But that she won’t see me again. I used- that encanto thing, so she would think I told her before disappearing. I didn’t want her thinking I disappeared for almost four months only to-”

He puts his hand over Raphael’s. He’s gripping his own arm so tight Magnus is almost scared he’ll tear it off.

Raphael huffs, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he says, “she begged me to stay.”

Magnus’ heart goes out for the boy, and a part of him tangs with ugly, bitter jealousy. Rosa didn’t care what Raphael was. Didn’t care what happened. She still wanted to be with him.

He bites the inside of his mouth, trying to get rid of these thoughts. Raphael is suffering, he’s in pain, he’s lost the person he loves the most and yet here Magnus is, selfish as always-

Raphael finally turns to look at him, eyes puffy and shining with caged tears, and all of Magnus’ thoughts silence before the pain that he feels for him. “I’m so scared of leaving her alone, Magnus.”

“My boy.” Magnus is unable to stop himself from reaching out and pulling Raphael into a hug. The boy is shorter than him, and smaller, and he buries his face in Magnus’ chest as he doesn’t shake, doesn’t sob, doesn’t wrap his arms around Magnus too tight. It burns in a thousand different ways, this not-closeness, this cage of fear Raphael put himself in.

They’re both trapped within themselves, desperately afraid to step out, but still weakly trying to reach for each other.

“She told me we’d find a way. That I didn’t have to tell her what was happening, didn’t have to explain, that she would help me anyway. She kept- she kept trying, Magnus, and there was nothing I could do-” he laughs wetly. “I’ve always hated saying no to her.”

“I’m sorry,” Magnus says, because he is, and there’s nothing else he can say. Raphael can’t stay with her; that never goes well with anyone. Besides, the clave has been particularly adamant on keeping downworlders and mundanes strictly separated lately; Rosa’s life is not the only one at risk if Raphael stayed with her.

She might even accept him, but it’s worthless. All that means is that he has to be the one to leave.

It’s a completely different kind of tragedy, not at all like what happened to Magnus’ family all those centuries ago; yet it feels exactly the same.

“Lo siento,” he repeats, hoping the familiar sounds of Raphael’s language bring him comfort instead of pain. All he does in response is nod, so Magnus can’t be too sure, but he’s shaking a little less, seeming to ease a bit into the hug and the way Magnus strokes his hair.

“When we moved here,” Raphael starts. The sound of his voice startles Magnus a little bit, and he chides himself for getting distracted by the touch; he’s not the one who needs comfort, “Rosa was four. It was all- pretty fast. One day we were helping my mom sell enchiladas on the street, the other we went on a days-long trip. And suddenly, we didn’t know anything. Even the way we sat would get us weird looks. We couldn’t understand anyone. No one could understand us. She was terrified.”

Magnus swallows down the lump on his throat. He understands this way too well, having seen his mom’s language suddenly become forbidden in her own house. It’s scary, being locked away from the world like this.

“She stopped talking,” he continues. “At all. Even in spanish, at home, to our mom- she wouldn’t say anything. She wouldn’t cry out when she was distressed, or in pain. She wouldn’t yelp in surprise. It was like she was mute.”

“She must have been scared,” Magnus says, trying to sound sympathetic, and not like he had no idea what to say.

“It was scary. I think- if she wasn’t there, I might have done the same thing.”

Magnus keeps stroking his hair.

“But I couldn’t, because I had to take care of her. Our mom couldn’t. There was so much on her plate. I was so worried for Rosa. She was so bright, and funny, and smart, way more than me. Still is. I wish you could have met her,” he sighs. Magnus knows he’s grieving over that, too, all the things he didn’t do. “Seeing her so quiet, I couldn’t take it. I talked to our neighbors, they taught me English, so I could speak for her, and explain things to her. We made our own kind of sign language, so I could understand what she meant- and one day she started talking to me.

“Not anyone else, just me,” Raphael continues, “I would go with her everywhere. She would talk to me, and make jokes, and laugh - and then someone else would say something around us, and she would draw back again. It was terrible, seeing her so scared, kept away from the world. But I could be her bridge, and with that, she got to learn at her own pace. I didn’t, so I know that that’s a big deal.”

“It’s terrible,” Magnus agrees, “walking blindly trying to find straws to grasp, knowing you can’t afford to make mistakes.”

Raphael hums. “Did you have to leave after- your stepfather, too?”

“Well, no. I was found by my father soon after. But after I ran away from him - I was in a completely different country, in a completely different time, and I didn’t know anyone.”

Raphael nods again, in a way Magnus knows means he’s paying attention to what he says. His fingers start tracing little circles on Magnus’ belly, and he looks serious, like he’s trying to commit this information to memory.

He doesn’t ask anything, though, and Magnus is glad for that.

“You went through it so she didn’t have to,” he states. “That was pretty brave.” He knows Raphael isn’t a lot older than Rosa. From what he’s told Magnus, two or three years, tops. He can’t imagine it, being only six and having to figure out your own on the world, with the responsibility of someone else on your shoulders.

“I don’t regret it. I kept trying to teach her English, even if she wouldn’t say anything when I did. I knew she was listening. Eventually she started talking again. First with my mom and the neighbors, in Spanish, then a little English then and there. She can speak perfectly now.”

Magnus nods. “She’s strong, too.”

“She is.” Raphael’s smile is unbearably sad, barely a tug, his eyes too still. “But to me- I still see that little girl who was too scared to stand up for herself. She’s so- great, and happy, and I was supposed to be there, to take the blows for her, to make sure she keeps- she doesn’t-”

Raphael shakes his head. “I know she can do without me,” he continues, “but I don’t want her to have to. And I- I don’t want to do without her.”

There’s a sob at the end of the sentence, and then a few more. It’s way more quiet than the breakdown he had when Magnus first found him, or that fateful day when he finally caved and tried to eat the blood on Magnus’ stock; he’s not crying with abandon. He holds himself tight, and hides his face on Magnus’ chest, and doesn’t make too much noise.

That makes it even more heartbreaking.

“I had to run away,” Raphael says. “When she started crying, telling me to stay. I had to run away so she wouldn’t see me break down. I turned my back on her. I’m so sorry. God, Dios, I’m so sorry-”

“You’re protecting her,” Magnus tries to reassure him. He knows it’s pointless, but he tries anyway. At the very least, he doesn’t want Raphael to feel guilty for doing the right thing. “You didn’t turn your back. She knows this. She knows you wouldn’t turn her back on her, Raphael. She knows.”

“I couldn’t even hug her,” is all Raphael answers, muffled by the tears.

Magnus holds him tighter, purely on instinct. He feels a little silly; he’s nowhere near the comfort Raphael wants. They’ve only known each other for a few months, and Magnus is nothing but the reminder that his life is all upside down.

A crazy, lonely warlock who can barely handle his own baggage. That’s all he has to offer to Raphael.

But he’ll still offer it.

“Lo siento,” he repeats again, “cry away, it’s okay. I’m sorry. Lo siento.” Then, because he feels like Raphael doesn’t know it, and he needs to, “you’re a good man, Raphael. You’re so good to your sister. She won’t forget that.”

It makes Raphael sob harder, but he keeps it up, knows he needs to know it, and needs to let it out too. “You did good,” “you’re a good brother,” “you’re so strong,” “I’m proud of you.” He barely notices it when the first “te quiero” slips; probably wouldn’t have had at all, if Raphael hadn’t immediately answered.

“Te quiero también,” he says. It’s the first thing he’s said since Magnus started talking.

Magnus takes that as a win, and continues to comfort him, letting Raphael cry himself to sleep.

Once he does, instead of pulling away, Magnus simply lies down on the couch, and sleeps right there with him, hand still tangled in Raphael’s hair.

It’s as much for his sake as it is for Raphael’s.

*

When Magnus gets home, back from a day of shopping for potion ingredients and getting some more blood to replenish his supply, the sun is about to set. He’s pleasantly tired, ready to waste the rest of his evening away with Raphael, who must be waking up.

He closes the door behind him, and there’s a blur in his peripheral vision. Fast and noisy and going straight in Magnus’ direction, too fast for him to even process anything but the threat.

The worst part is, his first instinct is to freeze. The flinch is all but imperceptible, the move to cover his face and not really defend himself; he doesn’t move, doesn’t jump, his magic doesn’t react in time. Pliant. Helpless.

He registers that, bitterly and with just the narrow - sharp - edge of fear, before he registers that it’s just Raphael.

Who’s looking miserable. And also has a bag in hand.

“Sorry,” Magnus says, at the same time, and his tone just as small, as Raphael. He almost laughs to himself at the ridiculous pair they make, before he’s distracted by his double take. Raphael has a bag in hand.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Magnus says, his body looking as if it’s waiting for the bell to ring so he can move. Undecided on his next step. “What’s going on?”

“I think I should leave,” Raphael answers, and even if it’s a direct answer to his question, it still feels abrupt. “I was just getting my things and waiting for the sun to set. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Oh.

He- wasn’t expecting that, somehow. Raphael had been doing well lately, but he hadn’t really found a clan. Magnus wasn’t even aware that he was getting close to other vampires. “Okay,” he says, like he hadn’t been planning on watching a movie with Raphael that night, or teaching him how to make potions next week - Raphael had mentioned that he liked cooking, but it was too painful to do that just yet when he knew he couldn’t eat, so Magnus was thinking of teaching him how to make some potions that didn’t require magic, have him reconnect, somehow, with his hobby. Then again, it’s not like he told Raphael about any of these plans. He just- assumed. “Where are you going?” is the first thing he asks, stomach churning at the idea that it’s the New York Clan. He doesn’t want Raphael with- her. Then again, it’s not any of his business.

Raphael looks, if possible, even more miserable. “I’m not sure. For now I was just going to look for the nearest one. Then I’d see where would be best.” Then, mumbling to himself, almost like some sort of reassurance, “New York is big, there must be plenty of clans.”

Actually, there is only one, because Camille has been systematically dismantling and destroying other clans for decades now, and Magnus stops and frowns. Raphael doesn’t even know about the clan situation in New York. Why is he in such a rush to move?

Magnus sits down on the couch opposite from him, slowly. Like he’s afraid of scaring Raphael away. Once he’s settled down, legs crossed, arms relaxed, he speaks, “wouldn’t you rather know the clan before you move there? It’s a pretty big commitment,” as softly as he can. Maybe Raphael needs a change, he reasons with himself. Or maybe he just wants to get away from here. “If the problem is the loft, I can always redecorate it. Or I can find an hotel for you to stay,” he offers. Raphael shakes his head vehemently, like Magnus’ words are attacking him.

“No. I don’t want to take even more from you.”

Understanding downs on Magnus like the descending of an elevator, and suddenly he feels silly. Of course. He should have known. “Is that what this is about?” he asks, “you not wanting to impose?”

“I think we can both agree that I overextended my stay here.”

“You must have really good persuasion skills, then,” Magnus answers, raising an eyebrow. Raphael always speaks - clearly, for lack of a better word, almost technically, his terms precise and specific. But when he talks like that, like the lines were taken from a textbook, Magnus knows that he’s speaking from rationality, not from heart. He can’t say he likes it.

Raphael just looks at him for a moment, brow just slightly furrowed. Like even he doesn’t know what to do with it. In the end, he replies like Magnus hadn’t said anything, “I’ve been here for months. Just staying and- crying.” He says it like he’s tripping, and there it is. That little lapse of truth. Magnus tries to grab it with all his might. Subtly.

“If I recall correctly, you also tended to my bruises right on the first month,” he says, “and showed me some really good music the other night.”

Raphael grimaces like Magnus is being difficult. “You know what I mean. You’ve been way too kind to me. I can’t keep taking advantage,” he says, sincerely.

“You’re not taking advantage. It doesn’t bother me.”

Raphael chuckles, like the idea is a joke. “You don’t mind a stranger staying at your house, feeding off your supply, needing your help at every turn for three months?”

“It’s hardly a stranger if they’ve been living with me for three months.”

“Magnus,” Raphael says, sighing, like he’s drained, like he’s trying to get every ounce of air to have the energy to keep going. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate what you’ve done for me. It’s because I appreciate it that I can’t keep doing this. I’m pulling you down, taking your space. I have to go and figure this out on my own.”

“I don’t think you’re underappreciating me,” Magnus answers sincerely, and for a second, it feels like his own offer of vulnerability to Raphael, “I think you’re underappreciating yourself.”

“It’s not about me,” Raphael says after a second of silence. “It’s just. I’ve been taking too much from you. And I know you’ll just keep letting me. Don’t tell me it isn’t true,” he adds when Magnus makes just the smallest of moves, “It’s not fair. You’re giving me a house, things to- feed, emotional support. You were there for me after Rosa, you-” Raphael falters, and that’s new. He hardly ever leaves a sentence unfinished, unless he’s having a breakdown. “It’s too much,” he finishes softly, painfully.

“It’s not,” Magnus says, just as softly. He sees Raphael shake his head, like he’s ready to say that Magnus is lying, so he takes a split second decision. “Having you here far outweights it.”

It’s his own display of vulnerability, but it’s not incidental, this time. It’s not an offer for Raphael to take, either; it’s a promise of honesty he makes to the both of them. He doesn’t want this conversation to be over before it even starts.

So he continues. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Raphael looks positively shocked, the force of it taking up all of his features, like he hadn’t even considered that option. He looks more shocked than he did when he first saw Magnus using magic. Magnus tries not to let that sting too much, not to think, did I do something wrong? Does he really not know?. Tries not to wonder if he’s so closed off he’s forgotten how to love. If he’s denying that boy the affection he so clearly needs, even as he feels it. If he’s becoming Camille, or his father.

“Having you here… It’s been doing me good. You have no idea how much,” he confesses, a little scared of how scared he is of saying it. “You’ve been giving way more than you think,” he finishes, nowhere near satisfied with what he’s managed to express, but still not knowing how he could continue.

“I don’t understand,” Raphael says, and the sincerity of it cuts Magnus.

“I-,” Magnus doesn’t look at him. He can’t. There’s something grabbing at his throat, a mix of fear and pride, the kind that’s heavy, that pulls you down. “I’ve been lonely,” he manages.

Raphael still looks lost, almost afraid, like a lone sailor who sees a storm approaching. So out of his depth it’s terrifying.

Magnus sighs and pauses, trying to gather himself, because he feels the same way. He's never even talked about this with anyone who wasn't there when it happened - and even then, Ragnor, Cat, and Dot had gotten a version with more furtive silences than words. Because they were there, and they knew how to fill the gaps.

Talking about his mum had been easier. Hell, even his father.

Camille was different. And he battled within himself, simultaneously sure that he was just telling this to Raphael to force him to stay, and that telling him would drive him away for good. And that's just typical, with Camille - all paths are equally painful, and all lead to the same place, no matter how wildly different and even conflicting.

So, in a fit of stubbornness, and defiance, he does the opposite of what he's convinced he should do. He tells Raphael.

"I had an ex. A vampire. Over a century ago," he begins, and has it been this long? It definitely doesn't feel like it, the wound fresh and rotting like it was carved only yesterday, like it was being carved right now, "she drove me away from almost everyone." He admits quietly, and feels, strangely, like what Raphael had described a confession to be like. "Even Ragnor, and Catarina. I-" deep breath, "I haven't been able to bounce back."

"What did she do?" Raphael asks, and his voice is quiet, soothing, as if it's holding Magnus' hand. But there's a strain underneath, too, something that sounds like the fire that burns in his eyes, that rightful fury that reminded him of hell. A fire Magnus had only really seen in the eyes of those who believe in it.

"Honestly? I don't know," Magnus says, truthfully, despairingly, like he hates the words. "It was just exhausting. Terrifying. Every time I looked, it seemed I was more cornered than before, and I was so scared of being alone, scared enough that I'd just… Let her do what she wanted," he admits, the shame burning hot in his throat, scratching him raw, leaving him defenseless and burning and weak like before. But he pushes through, a miracle in and of itself, "and she convinced me that she was the only one who could ever love, or even like, me."

Raphael looks at him, that fiery gaze even more intense than before, and Magnus can't face it, because if he does, it'll take him over, and he doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve its protectiveness. It'll burn him, because he's unworthy, and he's weak, and heavenly fire is poison to people like him.

His hands are clenched so tight they're shaking, and he focuses on them, on the grounding pain, on the movements of his fingers as he rubs them together. "When I freezed, today," he says, his voice sounding shaky, and small, and pathetic, "it was instinct. Something I learnt from her. When she was mad, she would come to me running, just like you did," so fast he just heard the noise of the disgruntled air being cut by her body, sharp and loud and destructive, "sometimes she'd shove me, sometimes she wouldn't. But I never knew, so sometimes I flinched, and that would - really hurt her. So I learnt not to flinch, just freeze and brace myself to keep from hitting my head."

Raphael hisses, and Magnus jolts, seeing his fangs are drawn out. He covers his mouth with his hands quickly, looking a little sorry, but still burning, rage, anger, fury. He's getting better at controlling himself, though, because he manages to draw them back, and say "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, that's - probably the last thing you want to hear now is a vampire hissing."

Magnus chuckles, humorless, "it's ok, my boy. You don't scare me, just- like I said, it was instinct."

"Still, I don't want to force you to remember that. If I had known what I was doing to you-"

"No!" Magnus says, with that kind of strength and conviction that jolts his whole body, his brain only processing that he said it after he already had. "No, no, Raphael, I'm sorry, that's not what I was trying to say at all, my boy, I'm sorry-"

"I just never expected to be hurting you on top of-"

"You don't! That's what I was trying to say-"

"Please, Magnus, what can I do to-"

"No, my boy, no," he says, this time calm, but firm, and Raphael silences. Briefly, he notices that he got up at some point.

Raphael looks at him, and his eyes are big and wild and expectant, like he's waiting to follow Magnus' lead, and it's heartwarming and confusing and helps him keep talking.

"It's not about that. You hadn't even done anything that reminded me of her before this, today," he says softly, softer than he's ever heard himself talk. "And it was just a split second. Believe me."

"I believe you," Raphael answers, nodding. Magnus smiles.

"What I am trying to say," he continues, making a show of sitting back down on the couch, all relaxed body and certain movements, and he can see Raphael visibly relax on his own couch, "is that after her, I was afraid that everyone would hurt me. I was afraid that I'd let them, like I had let her. I put up walls, and I made a front for myself, and I didn't let anyone get close. I didn't make any new friends. And I felt as lonely as I thought I would once she left me."

Raphael looks at him with something akin to shock in his eyes, but Magnus just keeps going, not stopping to think of the implications of that. "You're the first person who got close to me. You're my friend, and having you here has been doing me so good," he confesses, "to remind me that I don't have to be lonely, that I won't be. You haven't just been taking, my boy, you've given me so much. So-," he stops when he sees Raphael get up and walk towards him.

The hug is almost sudden, even if it follows very slow, calculated movements, the kind that is designed to give you every out. Magnus overflows with it, even with the awkward position of him sitting and Raphael standing, even with the limited contact. Raphael's face hides into his shoulder, and he feels fierce, strong protectiveness in place of the vulnerability from before.

"So," he chokes out, "I really don't want you to go."

Raphael nods. "Okay. Okay. I'm sorry."

"None of that," Magnus laughs, a little wobbly, like he's overloaded.

Raphael huffs, suspiciously fond. Then he says, "te quiero, Magnus."

Magnus' eyes widen only slightly, and he answers, "te quiero también."

*

Magnus stumbles down the street, trying to support himself on a nearby house’s wall. He’s close; only a matter of two blocks before he gets home, but he feels like he’s been walking there forever. He’s so exhausted he didn’t even manage to portal himself home.

It had been an emergency call - a friend of Catarina’s who had recently adopted a little warlock girl reported her missing. They went straight to Magnus. He had been dedicating a lot of his time to that, recently, many warlocks reaching out to him when there was some kind of emergency.

He’s always kind of fulfilled that role, helping people when they needed it, but recently the number of calls he’d gotten had skyrocketed.

People have been speaking of making him High Warlock of The City Of New York.

There’s no High Warlock of The City Of New York.

He doesn’t even know if there are any High Warlocks for specific cities; distance is not a problem, so High Warlock positions usually cover a pretty large area. Hell, some of them cover entire countries. The Iberian Peninsula has only one, and most of the time she is so bored she petitioned to be able to make regular warlock work as well.

(It was approved.)

But New York - New York had been messy, and scary, recently. There had been a rise on hate crimes, and most of the downworlder community was on edge - but especially warlocks, who had been preferential victims of kidnapping. Crazy shadowhunters wanting to study “demon blood”.

They weren’t very organized political groups - yet. But the number of hateful shadowhunter groups had been on the rise, and the Clave had done nothing to stop it - not that anyone expected them to.

And New York, well, it had a pretty high warlock population density, and a particularly uncaring Institute in the hands of particularly bigoted shadowhunters. It was the best place for hate groups to start, and the High Warlock of the state hadn’t been managing to handle all the calls from all the population.

Hence why Magnus had been called in so many times, and why people were speaking of giving him a position.

He’s not sure if he should take it - certainly there are people more fit for the job than him. Then again, he wouldn’t be able to turn his back on his people in such a hard time, and he never believed a lot in institutions such as the High Warlock position in times like this. And - well, he isn’t sure if he would be able to manage all of the region’s problems, his own, and also take care of Raphael.

Not that Raphael needs him a lot - he was more and more independent these days, long used or at least resigned to his vampire life. He has started volunteering as a cook in a nearby shelter, something Magnus had learnt filled him with joy; he’s made a few other downworlder friends, even a few vampires. It has been over a year - soon, Magnus guesses, he won’t need Magnus anymore, and will look for a real place to live in.

Magnus is - scared of that.

He doesn’t want to - he should be happy for Raphael, and he is, he truly is. He’s glad he’s making friends, going outside, finding joy, reconnecting with himself, his love for cooking, finding a place and a community. He’s proud of him, even. He would never want Raphael to be dependant on him, unhappy and lonely.

Honestly, Magnus is probably the dependant one.

He doesn’t know what he’d do without Raphael - he had been feeling so lonely before him, even with his small group of friends, with his regular visits to Pandemonium; he had no one to talk to and no one to give him company for more than an hour or two. He and Raphael had settled into an easy routine; for the first time in, who knows, so long, Magnus felt like he had someone to share his life with, somewhere to belong, something he could be a part of.

It scared him to know he’d lose that soon. Raphael won’t want to see him again once he leaves - Magnus is probably a walking reminder of the worst moments of his life, anyway.

Seeing him leave will hurt.

But as long as Raphael is still there, he’ll want to focus on him, because Raphael doesn’t have anywhere else to go, while there are plenty of competent warlocks who could take a High Warlock position. He doesn’t want to leave his people, and he won’t - which is precisely why he won’t take such a responsibility if he can’t have it be his priority. Even if he knows Raphael probably won’t be there for much longer.

But he doesn’t want to prepare for that ahead of time. He doesn’t want to face the inevitability of it.

He’s just so scared of being left. Even if he knows it’ll happen. Has to happen. For Raphael’s happiness. For his good. It’s not like Raphael - owes it to him to keep in touch, to see him, when Magnus knows that he had no choice when he decided to stay with Magnus, and he probably only represents more pain for the boy.

So he supposes he’ll cross that bridge when it comes crashing down under his feet.

He’s alright with that - it’s not like preparing himself will really lessen the pain.

The visits that end up being shorter and shorter, the calls that will stop being returned, the furtive running when Raphael encounters Magnus by chance - Magnus knows he’ll pull away slowly, because Raphael is a nice boy, and he probably thinks that it would be ungrateful to cut Magnus off his life completely once he leaves.

But the disgust- the bad memories will win out, eventually.

And that’s okay. Magnus doesn’t want to be a burden to anyone. Much less to Raphael - he’s not only company, not just someone to fill the hole Camille left in his heart; Raphael might be the person that comes closest to understanding him. He knows about Magnus’ past, and he understands what it’s like to lose everything you knew in just a day. He’s hilariously sarcastic and never endingly good, he cares for others more than he cares about himself sometimes, he has a patience Magnus could never hope for and a cool head that never meant a cold heart. Magnus was so proud of him, of how he acted and his values, he could cry. He loved Raphael like he’d love a son, and he’d rather die than make Raphael suffer, force him to revisit the times that almost managed to dull his light and pull him away from the very things he dedicated his heart to.

He wishes he could be something other than darkness in people’s lives, though.

At least he managed to save today’s girl - she had been kidnapped by a small, but vicious shadowhunter supremacist group, and even her caretaker couldn’t find her.

Magnus had been trying to find her for a few days, when he supposed one of the shadowhunters slipped up. He got a try. He got to her fairly easily, but he didn’t know what state she was in, or what they were planning. Catarina was working a shift, Ragnor took too long to answer, and Dot was helping the actual High Warlock with another problem she couldn’t tell them about. But Magnus didn’t have time to wait, so it was just him and Kai - the girl’s caretaker.

Kai was also a warlock, although a pretty young one - only starting to venture into their 50s. Noelani, the girl, was only 7, just old enough to start to get a real hold of her magic, and just naïve enough to let people know about that. They had been on visit in New York, Kai having been called to speak about gender colonialism at a Nā ʻŌiwi NYC event. As their tutor - Noelani wanted to be a kahuna lapa’au, a magical healer, and, as the only other warlock and seeing as māhūs were traditionally responsible for keeping alive the traditional hawaiian practices, Kai had taken her under their wing - Kai had taken her with them, and the bright, overly enthusiastic about sharing her knowledge of magic, girl had attracted the attention of shadowhunters. About halfway through the month-long event, she went missing, and Kai called to Catarina, who was helping them both with healing magic, and who called for Magnus’ help.

Taking down the shadowhunters with their combined power wasn’t hard, even if Magnus did most of the work - there were only 4 of them, although he suspects they might have other connections. But the last one managed to cut Magnus with her sword, and, as it turned out, it had magic-suppressing venom.

If Kai hadn’t given her the final blow, Magnus could have been in deep trouble.

As it was, though, they were both fine, and they managed to leave with Noelani safe, the shadowhunters’ little lair burnt to a crisp, and their bodies sent over to the nearest clave branch. Magnus knew the clave wouldn’t mind, because that way they could return the bodies to their families, say they died honorably in some battle, and once it was clear that the crimes were stopping, take credit for solving the problem.

“Protecting the downworlder community is part of our job,” they kept saying, even as they did a piss-poor one.

But Magnus couldn’t portal back, and, because Kai had never been to his loft, the best they could do to help was portal him somewhere in Brooklyn. Magnus didn’t have any money for the subway or a cab either, so walking it was. Noelani and Kai had offered to walk him to the loft, but he had waved them off, saying that he was fine, just needed a magic replenishing potion; and besides, they were scared and needed time to cool down. A walk would probably do him good, anyway, get some exercise and a bit of fresh air after so long working on this case.

It was all true, at the time. But the venom seemed to have longer-term effects that were much slower on the uptake. By the time he reached the street of his loft, he was exhausted, his wound was bleeding out, and he had trouble walking as well as breathing.

By the looks of it, the shadowhunters were succeeding in creating new weapons against downworlders. Fantastic.

He would be fine though. He just needed to get home, take his magic replenishing potion, and then get rid of the venom. Worst case scenario, he’d call Catarina. She’d know what to do, and if she didn’t, she would figure it out. She was smart like that.

So that’s what Magnus is telling himself as he limps down the last bit he needs in order to get home, the magic replenishing potion is on the apothecary, right on the first drawer, you just need to drink it, have a stamina potion if you need to keep yourself awake as well, you’ll be fine, as he stops for a moment to get some breath, almost there, just this little breath and you’ll be fine, no need to panic, it’s okay to go slow, as he starts walking once again, just that corner and a few more steps and that’ll be it, the wards will let you in, it’s so close now, come on, as he turns around the corner, there’s a shadowhunter at my doorstep.

There’s a shadowhunter at his doorstep.

Magnus blood runs cold, and instinctively he freezes, but the shadowhunter immediately turns to look at him. They’re like sharks, they can smell his blood as soon as it starts to drip down, showing his weakness. They thrive on it.

This guy is not here as a clave representative - if he were, that wouldn’t be much better, but the fact that he’s not makes even more anxiety pool deep inside of him. Magnus didn’t tell them he was the one who gave them the bodies, and if they traced the magic back, it would be Kai’s, not his. Besides, the shadowhunter’s alone, and smiling, and shadowhunters never smile when it comes to clave business.

He also has a huge seraph blade drawn and at the ready. And shadowhunters do smile when it comes to using these.

“Magnus Bane,” he says, almost conversationally, except for his distinctly threatening stance. Magnus figures the snarl at the end of his words is just how he’d normally say any downworlder’s name. “I knew we should have come for you sooner. This little chat of ours is long overdue, don’t you think?”

Were he not in a distinctly weakened state, Magnus would be rolling his eyes. Shadowhunters’ one-liners were always absolutely terrible, and the fact that they always said it like they were evil geniuses only made it more cringe-worthy.

But Magnus is is a distinctly weakened state, and he can’t afford himself to relax, not when he know he’s slow and weak and has no magic. So he stays still, and stops his automatic magic functions - his magic already subconsciously keeps his glamour up and his adrenal glands producing testosterone, even when Magnus is too weak to use it consciously, much in the same way that his body would keep breathing if Magnus were in a coma. Right now, though, he needs every reserve he can get, and he’s also hoping that having his warlock mark exposed will make him look more ready for the fight than he actually is. Maybe even make the shadowhunter feel a bit more threatened.

It doesn’t. He’s starting to shake in weakness and the shadowhunter only lets out a low whistle. “Oh, I love it when you do this. You guys try so hard to hide it, pretend you’re real people, don’t you? But this is when you show who you really are. Ugly, deformed animals. You know it, and you can’t hide it, not when it matters.”

Magnus doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know if he could. He just looks at him, his vision at least a little better with his natural eyes out at night, his legs shaking slightly as he tries to keep himself upright, his throat closing up in fear and the almost childish refusal to let the shadowhunter’s words truly sink in.

He’s too weak to throw a punch. He’s too slow to run, and has no place to go to. He has no weapon. He barely has enough magic to create some sparkles, even now that he ceased all of its functions. He can’t send a fire message to call for help. Raphael isn’t home. Maybe if the shadowhunter lunges at him and he can reach his throat, he can use the last of his magic to taze him, but even that’s a long shot. He can feel his magic getting weaker and weaker, and the shadowhunter’s sword is long. He has no strength, he has no speed. He has just enough adrenaline running to keep up with what’s going on. The shadowhunter lets out a disdainful, “bring it on, warlock,” and makes towards him.

And it hits him. He’s going to die.

He’s going to die the only way he never wanted to - by the hands of greedy, hateful killers, his body to be used to inspire more fear in his people. Weaponized against those he tried to protect.

And painfully.

Bleeding out. Beaten up. Helpless and tired. And something tells him this shadowhunter won’t mind taking his sweet time with him.

Magnus falls as soon as the shadowhunter’s body hits him, a full force launch that knocks him down easy. So easy the shadowhunter himself loses his balance for a second, not expecting so little resistance, and in his stumble Magnus manages to touch his neck.

But not to conjure any magic.

He realizes, belatedly, that he should have gone for his eyes. It wouldn’t require much strength, and if he fell down, Magnus would have a chance of making it to his loft. He could even call Catarina the mundane way from there, not to mention he had his wards.

But he didn’t. He tries to reach up with his other hand, but the shadowhunter lands a punch to his exposed ribs before he can. When his arms fall down from the blow, he steps down on Magnus’ shoulder, hard, not enough to break anything, but enough for him to scream, which is just humiliating.

He’s going to die, and he can feel the cold of the seraph blade against his throat, and the shadowhunter is probably saying something, and he doesn’t know how he could move without cutting himself right now, and he’s too weak to do anything, and the adrenaline is only helping him panic, not think, and the shadowhunter is probably laughing, enjoying his weakness like they always do, and he’s going to die, and that might be his last thought, he’s going to die, alone and weak and hated and not even managing to put up a real fight, this shadowhunter is going to kill him, and he’s going to die.

Raphael lunges at the shadowhunter and breaks his neck.

It cracks like wood under someone’s feet, and just like that, he’s gone.

“Raphael,” is all Magnus can manage, and it’s a useless thing to say, but it’s the only one he wants to right now.

Raphael. Raphael. He’s here. He saved Magnus.

“Magnus,” he answers, his voice laced with all the fear Magnus was feeling before, and Magnus can barely register why. Suddenly, he’s lying on his couch, and there’s noises of things being open and thrown out so fast coming from his apothecary he kind of snaps into life again.

“Mierda, mierda, mierda, carajo, coñ- puta madre, ese desgraciado puso esa mierda en su- vamos, vamos, por favor, Magnus-”

Magnus has no idea what he’s saying, even if he has a feeling he could piece it together if he could think clearly right now, but Spanish is far from coming naturally to him. Still, Raphael says his name with so much anguish, Magnus feels the need to intervene.

“First drawer of my desk. Magic replenishing,” he says, still a little weak. Raphael is at his feet so fast he can’t help but jump, and Raphael’s face does something that Magnus can only describe as twisting.

“Sorry,” he says, and for a second Magnus marvels at the fact that Raphael knows, that he understands. He’s forgotten what that felt like, to have someone know, to not have to fake smiles whenever he was forced to remember. “Please drink, Magnus, please,” he insists when Magnus looks at him for too long.

Magnus gives him a small nod, then downs the potion. He can feel his magic spark to life again, slowly filling back up. He feels more aware, more grounded, even if still tired.

Raphael looks at him expectantly, like he’s hoping for Magnus to start floating or curing himself, so he feels the need to explain, “it’ll take a while for it to fully take effect.”

Raphael tenses in a way that tells Magnus that if he had weaker self control he’d be bouncing around the walls. “We can’t wait. Magnus. What else can I do? Please-”

“Did you- my wound-”

“Applied pressure, bandaged a little, I couldn’t find-”

“Third drawer, the little purple thing. I also need a stamina potion. I’m afraid I don’t have this one at the ready.”

Raphael is back with his balm. “Should I call Catarina? I couldn’t remember her number.”

Magnus shakes his head, even if he’s a little unsure. He doesn’t want to bother Catarina, but he also doesn’t want to put more stress on Raphael. Then again, standing in the sidelines while Catarina works would probably only make him more agitated. “You can make it pretty easily. Just mix some ginger powder, grinded malagueta, honey, and werewolf fangs. Equal parts. They’re in my apothecary, all labeled-”

“Like this?” he has all the ingredients in an instant, and mixes them in front of Magnus, like he’s afraid of doing it unsupervised. Magnus knows he’s far from a boy, but when he’s like this, so eager to help and anxious for his guidance, Magnus can’t help thinking of him like one.

Like a son, he tries not to think, even if he knows, deep down, that that’s what he feels. He’s watched Raphael grow and build himself, has seen him change and open up and look up to Magnus for help, for advice. He’s held him as he cried and been shocked to find out Raphael could do the same, too. Every time he sees Raphael helping others, or making new friends, or starting new projects, pride swells in his chest as if ready to burst. Raphael is his own man, but Magnus also feels that a part of him is permanently with him, and a part of him is permanently changed by Raphael’s presence.

It’s terrible, and he knows it. Raphael has his own family. The last thing he’d ever want would be to replace them.

But Magnus can’t help it.

So instead of saying any of that, Magnus just nods, and adds the last bit of magic that the potion needed to hold up, and drinks it in spoonfuls as Raphael carefully lifts his bandages, cleans his wound up with alcohol - for the second time, Magnus can tell now that he’s paying attention, and either Raphael was incredibly fast or he was more out of it than he thought - and spreads the balm in deliberately slow strokes.

It fills him to the brim with a mix of pride and some sort of love that’s almost painful, aching. He knows Raphael is doing it not to scare him and he feels so- touched, he can barely compute it.

He tries to reign it back in before any tears could make their presence known, and by the time Raphael is done, the wound is already closing and Magnus can feel his glamour snapping back into place and his hormone activity returning to normal. Soon the magic will finish what the balm started and the wound will be closed. He’ll just have to check to make sure the venom is out of his system. But if his simple magic replenishing potion was enough to undo its effect, he supposes it can’t hold up for more than a few hours.

“Water,” Raphael says, resolutely, “and food.”

“I don’t think I should eat,” Magnus protests, and immediately regrets it when Raphael’s eyes widen like he just passed out. No matter how much time passes, he never fully gets used to Raphael’s idea that feeding a person will solve all their problems.

Not that the idea itself is that foreign to him, but - the gesture is. No one’s really worried about that since he lost his mother.

“It’ll slow down the healing potion,” he explains, “I haven’t fully absorbed it.”

Raphael keeps still for a second, like he struggles to process that, but then he nods. “Water, then,” he says in a tone of finality that Magnus wouldn’t have dared to protest, even if he hadn’t noticed that he’s actually pretty thirsty. When he comes back with a cup and the hugest water bottle Magnus had on the fridge, he ends up drinking it all, and then some more after Raphael fills it again, until finally he feels like he’s stable enough to fully settle into his tiredness. His head falls back on the couch, and he closes his eyes as he hears Raphael shuffle about and carefully sit beside him.

Once he’s done, Raphael wraps his arms around Magnus and rests his face on Magnus’ shoulder, and Magnus has the weird feeling that he’s comforting Raphael as much as Raphael’s comforting him, even if that makes no real sense. His grip is so tight it almost hurts, but it’s exactly that Magnus needs, comforting and putting the best kind of pressure over him, grounding him, making him feel- safe. Raphael knows it, he realizes, he’s been living with Magnus long enough to know what he needs for comfort.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Raphael asks, slightly muffled. His hands are rubbing up and down Magnus’ arm, where they meet, like he wants to make sure Magnus knows he’s real.

“I feel fine,” he replies, and it’s not a lie. “My mind isn’t foggy anymore, my magic is going back to normal, the wound is closing. Soon I’ll be good as new,” he half-jokes. Raphael just nods, but otherwise doesn’t move an inch, and Magnus allows himself to just bask in that presence, that feeling of- home.

(He shouldn’t think it, he really shouldn’t. Not when he knows this is the last place Raphael would want to call his home)

“Are you okay?” Magnus finds himself asking, when the silence starts to feel heavy enough to put itself between them. Raphael looks at him like he’s crazy, and Magnus would feel sheepish if he had enough energy for that.

“He didn’t even touch me, Magnus, I’m fine,” Raphael says, in a slightly confused but still reassuring tone, like he’s afraid Magnus hasn’t processed what went down.

“You killed him,” Magnus replies, shame lodged at the base of his throat.

He couldn’t defend himself. He was weak, and dependant, and Raphael had had to step in for him. Raphael, who almost starved himself so he wouldn’t hurt others, who paid penance almost every day, who could barely handle the thought of upsetting someone else. He killed someone because Magnus was too weak.

He imagines catching the boy on his knees again, burning himself with ashes because of this, and the thought makes his stomach churn.

“Yeah,” Raphael says, still rubbing his arm affectionately, the touch grounding, “yeah, he’s gone, it’s okay.”

He thinks of his father’s voice, booming and disdainful. You’re weak. Thinks of feeling stuck, of being a burden, dependant. You need me. Thinks of Camille-

“Magnus,” Raphael says again, a note of desperation in his voice. He always got so lost when it seemed like Magnus lost his footing, and it only made him feel more responsible. “Magnus, it’s okay. You’re safe. He’s gone. You have your wards. I’m here. No one else-”

“I know. I just… I didn’t want to make you do this,” he admits, embarrassed. It makes him feel more childish, the way there’s nothing he can do. Nothing he could have done. He put yourself in danger, and he wasn’t strong enough to end it himself. If-

“Magnus,” Raphael interrupts, sounding shocked, “he was going to kill you.”

Magnus nods, a self deprecating smile on his lips. “I know.”

Raphael swallows, and Magnus can feel the distress in his movements, in the way his hands twitch, and his arms sometimes press a little too tight against Magnus for just a second. “Please tell me you weren’t going to let him,” Raphael says, “please tell me you weren’t- Magnus,” he pleads.

“I wasn’t going to let him,” he says, “I just. Couldn’t win. Of course I would, if I had the chance, I just. Wish I hadn’t made you- I know how you feel about hurting others.”

He turns to look at Raphael, even if it slightly upsets their embrace, and his eyes are wide like he can barely process what Magnus just said. He wonders, briefly, if Raphael hadn’t realized what he had done, until Raphael speaks. “Magnus. He was going to kill you. I would kill him a thousand times over. Honestly, I- I won’t even ask for forgiveness for this one.”

Magnus doesn’t know what to do with these words. They hit him like cold water, shocking but way too quick for him to realize it.

“I don’t care, Magnus,” Raphael says, even more emphatic this time.

Magnus breaks down crying.

It’s - hard to explain. He’s still scared of being so weak, the idea that he almost died still hitting him with shock every once in a while like crackling electricity. And he doesn’t want Raphael to have to deal with these things for him.

But there’s something about being cared for like this, of knowing that Raphael wouldn’t hesitate to protect him, that floods him with something that feels almost like relief.

He knows Raphael doesn’t have a “no-exceptions” moral code; he’s told him all about Rosa, about the fights he would get into when other students tried to bully her, about the people he’s hurt. He told Magnus about how he stabbed a white supremacist who went after a girl in Raphael’s neighborhood, one day. Raphael doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but there’s very little he wouldn’t do for those he loves.

I’d rather it is me making the hard choices, he had told Magnus once. It’s better if these sins are mine to carry.

But he knows how Raphael truly feels about it, from the small, almost imperceptible whisper that followed. I’m already rotten with them, anyway.

And Magnus feels terrible, sick to his stomach, like the worst man on Earth, that he added one more weight to Raphael’s shoulders. And even worse than that, because the fact that Raphael is willing to protect him, enough not to regret it, makes him feel so much lighter, better, relieved.

It’s been so long since anyone stood up for him without utterly despising him for it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, hands going to his face so he can at least hide the tears that he knows he won’t be able to stop. Magnus rarely cries, is very good at hiding it up with smiles and gestures and mean comments, but when he does, it overtakes him with all his might, breaks him down into sobs like his lungs want to tear him apart, shakes him like there’s so much trying to get out that he can barely keep himself from bursting.

It’s ugly, and loud- and obnoxious, and annoying, and pathetic, and weak, and manipulative, and he can hear their annoyed voices in his head, every time we fight you just break down and then I have to stop everything and handle you, we will talk when you’re finished with this little fit of yours, and he can’t stop it.

“Don’t be sorry,” Raphael says, “don’t be sorry, okay? I don’t care, I’m just glad you’re okay, Magnus.”

Magnus nods, letting Raphael draw him closer and hide his face on his shoulders. He feels a little stiff, and cold, but Magnus melts all over him anyway, grabbing his torso desperately like he’s scared Raphael will be torn from him.

Raphael pets Magnus’ head slightly, muttering words of comfort to him, and he really feels like this whole thing is on reverse. He’s been the one to take care of Raphael for so long- and not just Raphael, he realizes.

By this point, taking care of others is something that comes from an almost sense of duty. If it were a choice, he would choose it, of course; but he doesn’t feel like it is. To not be the one helping Raphael feels completely unnatural, and he has a feeling that, if it were with someone else, it’d be good - but he feels like, somehow, he’s losing Raphael by doing this. Like it’s proof that he doesn’t need Magnus anymore.

He knew this. He already knew this. He’s been getting ready for it. But having Raphael hug him and murmur words of comfort to him, seeing himself as the dependant, crying one- it’s really rubbing it in.

He doesn’t even know what to do with it, because he’s not about to pull away, to drive their distance, to put himself together. He can’t. He’s so distraught, and wild, and terrified, all he can do is grab him like a lifeline, and hope that it’ll take at least a little longer for him to go.

“You’re alright. You’re safe. That’s all that matters to me. Okay? Don’t apologize. Te quiero,” Raphael says, in that short, calm, but unbearably strong way only he knows how.

“Te quiero también,” Magnus answers immediately, through sobs, agitated and weak, and just as sincere. He wants Raphael to know. That he loves him. That it’s okay.

Raphael nods and hugs him tighter, and keeps saying it. Te quiero, te quiero, I love you, Magnus, te quiero, te quiero tanto. It makes Magnus sob harder, but it’s good, and he needs it, needs it like his strength and magic, needs it like he needed Raphael to barge in at that moment, desperate and unwavering, and make him safe, and bring him home.

He cries to Raphael’s words, and then falls asleep to them, and by the time he wakes up, startled to see neither of them had moved an inch, and is practically yanked back into the hug as soon as he tries to move, he starts to believe them, too.

*

It wasn’t long after that that Magnus took the High Warlock job.

They got a better name for it - High Warlock of Brooklyn. Less of a mouthful, more respectful, even if not as accurate. He carries it with pride, of his role, of his people, of the lives he’s saved, the people he’s helped. Slowly, he’s using the role to turn the city of New York into a safety net for warlocks, keeping them connected and tuned to help each other when needed. He has to, otherwise there was no way he’d be able to handle the amount of cases they get.

But he’s happy with what he’s been doing with it, with the way his influence has slowly started to gather warlocks closer together, connecting instead of hiding away from each other. He’s proud to be building a community based on mutual support and trust. He’s proud of the way people look up to him.

And yes, part of the reason he did it was because he thought Raphael was going to leave soon. He wanted to have something else to do so the loneliness couldn’t get to him. He wanted to help more people, since it was clear Raphael didn’t need him.

Even if Raphael took his sweet time to leave. It’s been almost a year since that happened, half of which was spent with Raphael all but glued to Magnus’ back, like he was scared that Magnus would be attacked again. Magnus had not-so-subtly started to train more in front of him, with dramatic and impressive bursts of magic and powerful punches and kicks. Raphael smiled in a way that told him that he knew what Magnus was doing, but otherwise took a long time to relax.

But he’s ready for it. He knows it won’t last long. Maybe Raphael is scared of leaving him alone, is looking for a better place to stay, is letting him adjust to this new role he’s taken. Maybe he feels indebted still - he wouldn’t be surprised if Raphael refused to leave because he wanted to “repay” Magnus first.

Magnus tries not to let that part sting. He knows that’s just how Raphael is, never believing he deserves care without giving anything in return; but a part of him keeps thinking, he wants to pay his debts so he won’t be tied to you anymore.

Anyway. He’s ready. He is. Even if he still feels like his home is only truly home once Raphael is back from the restaurant, even if he loves his late night talks with him, even if he’s the first person Magnus has opened up to in centuries, even if he has to hold himself from saying that’s my boy! whenever Raphael brings in some good news, even if he’s growing used to ruffling his hair and kissing his forehead in goodbye and even if he’s definitely way too attached, he’s been preparing himself for it, and he’s ready.

That’s what he tells himself.

But Magnus is a terrible, terrible liar.

"I suppose this is not another guilt-ridden outburst," Magnus says, calmly. Steadily. Still.

Raphael's smile is small, but real. "No," he says, ruffling his hair. "I've given it a lot of thought."

"Of course," Magnus answers, neutral as the diplomat he sometimes is. He pretends to be looking at something in his desk, even if it's completely cleaned out and he always magics what he needs into his hands, anyway. "I assume you have a place to stay?"

Raphael lifts his chin. "I'm joining the New York clan."

"That's…"

"I know," he sighs. "Camille's clan. I hate it as much as you do. But I can't… I can't let her get away, Magnus. For what she did to you. For what she's doing to other vampires. I've only met a few, and she makes them miserable," his fists clench and unclench almost subconsciously, and Magnus thinks, not for the first time, that Raphael holds himself so tight Magnus is scared he'll snap out of his own skin.

"You don't have to- avenge me-"

His voice sounds almost angry in distress, which is - not what he wants. He very rarely fails to keep his tone in check, especially when it comes to things like these. But Raphael doesn't seem to mind. He knows full well Magnus isn't angry at him. It hurts a little, how easily he can read him.

"I know that," he says with a little tilt of his head, like he's acknowledging all that's going on inside of Magnus in that moment. "But I don't want to watch her destroy so many mundanes' lives. I don't want to go to another city and be away from home. And I don't want you to have to deal with her presence everywhere. I don't want her to go unchallenged-" he takes a deep breath. "She's a monster, and I want to take her down. And I have a plan to."

Magnus doesn't know what to say. Raphael sounds resolute beyond words. And even if he feels guilty - for turning against Camille when she had helped him once, for letting Raphael go through her violence because of him - he can't find it in himself to tell Raphael not to.

He's seen what she's been doing to the other vampires. Even helped a few of them she had turned her back to. If anything, they deserved better - but Camille was good with political alliances, and she ruled them with a mix of painful isolation, favors, and fear, just like she did Magnus.

His stomach turns, and suddenly he doesn't want to think about that.

He doesn't have to, because Raphael keeps talking. “You don’t have to visit me, of course. I’ll come here. I won’t make you see her, I promise. I’ll try not to let her know about us, if she doesn’t already.”

Magnus’ nod is a little dumb. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t go see Raphael. He can’t make it known that they know each other. He has to stay away. He was expecting the distance to stretch slowly; he never thought it’d be like this.

“I understand,” is all he can think to say, soft and with just the smallest hint of the sadness that swirls inside of him. He swallows, and hopes that the motion puts a lid on his feelings. “When are you leaving?”

He doesn’t think the question sounds like an accusation. But Raphael still lunges forward and takes his hands in his. “I’m going to visit, Magnus, I promise. I’ll need it, too.”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” he replies, a little embarrassed. “Wouldn’t want you to be stuck with her nail polish claws all the time.”

Raphael smiles at him, a tiny thing that doesn’t quite land, just like Magnus’ joke. “I’ll miss you, Magnus. What you did for me… I can’t say how much it means to me.”

“It was nothing,” Magnus says, and it feels like it’s choked out, but the end result is so smooth he’s almost terrified at his own ability to hide it. “Just what anyone would do.”

“No. Most people would help me. You gave me,” he looks down at his own hands, fingers twisting a little around Magnus’, like they’re not quite sure what to do with themselves, “a home,” is what he settles with, “when I didn’t think I could ever have one again. I- this means a lot to me, Magnus. You mean a lot to me.”

“You too, dear,” Magnus answers, a little more firmly this time. “Te quiero.”

“Yeah,” Raphael says, sounding somewhat defeated, and Magnus tries not to think about what that means. “Te quiero también.”

“Well then. Let’s plan your moving,” Magnus says, already thinking about how he’s going to redecorate Raphael’s old room. He does that a lot, and he knows it; his things are too easily tainted with the presence of others. When he loses them, he can’t stand them anymore.

Raphael lets himself be led by Magnus’ automatic rambling, and even when they eventually settle on the couch and Magnus falls asleep on his shoulder, the distance between them feels wider than ever.

*

Magnus has always wanted to have a family.

Even from before he lost his mom. He wished his stepfather would raise him. He wished him and his mother didn’t have a purely contractual relationship. He wished he wasn’t going to leave within a year. He wished he didn’t scream at them both, or look at them with what could only be described as disgust in his eyes, or twist his nose when Magnus came back from his apprenticeship with the dukun. He wished he didn’t hate their food.

He wished his mom hadn’t died. He wished he could feel her hands again, washing his hair, the soothing smell of jasmine. He wished he could make her laugh one more time. Better yet, smile. That wide, soft, careless smile she pointed at him sometimes. He wished she would hold his hand as they walked to the port, feeling the cool breeze when it was day, shielding him from the cold wind when it was night. He wished he could hear her say it again, the this is my child that soon turned, as it was clear what his gender was, this is my son.

He wished, more than anything, that she hadn’t hated him.

It made him sick to the brim, like he could barely stand being inside himself, to think about it. His mother hated him. His stepfather yelled it at him as he tried to drown him. His father was so terrible Magnus couldn’t even wish that he was different - he just wished to get away, to run, to hide, anything. To not be him. To not be his family.

But he wanted family. He wanted the comfort of knowing there would always be a group of people who’d care for one another. A group he could belong to. A group he could love. He wanted to have a home, and he didn’t want to do it alone. He wanted to be soothed by the certainty of having others around, not terrified by it. He longed, and he looked for one in all the right and wrong places - Ragnor, Catarina, Camille, Freddie, lovers and friends alike. In Ragnor he found a quirky and caring uncle. In Catarina a close friend. In Camille, just enough to feed his hope. In Freddie - maybe the closest he’d ever gotten to companionship, even if tainted by both of their fears of opening up, and lost forever to his death. Raphael had been the one who felt the most like it.

He knew it was preposterous to even hope to be Raphael’s family. It was everything to him, too. And he had actually had it once. Magnus wouldn’t know where to start making one. He felt so helpless at his leaving, just like he did when his stepfather yelled at him, when his mom died, when his father brought him to Edom at the end of another day.

He wasn’t destined to have it. He wasn’t supposed to. He was rotten, and immortal. Broken and tainted by bad choices. He lost his chance.

He really wanted some whisky.

“All settled,” he said once there was no other way of stalling. Raphael wasn’t taking a lot, playing the role of a lonely vampire who’d just found out about the Shadow World. He wanted to look lost, so Camille would think he was easy prey. Magnus felt that this plan was mocking him, but he didn’t know why. “Take care.”

“You too,” Raphael answers, taking his weight from one leg to another like he can’t find a way to stand comfortably. Magnus sighs. Goodbyes are always painful for him, and awkward for the others. Sometimes he thinks he prefers it when people leave without doing it. But he supposes Raphael has had his fair share of disappearing suddenly. Besides, it’s not his style.

Still, Magnus doesn’t want to drag this out for him. Or for himself. He clasps his hands, seemingly satisfied with Raphael’s arrangements. “Well, good luck, then,” he says, lightly, like all the weight that drags him down was left at the bottom of his stomach, too deep to touch his words. “Take care. No, I’ve already said that. Well, then I suppose the pleasantries are already done. I’ll see you soon,” he says, purposefully vague, so it doesn’t feel like a promise, or a threat. He almost wants to turn away and slam the door behind him, redecorate the entire loft and then drink some tequila just for the burning irony of that. He doesn’t, though, because a part of him wants to see him leave, at least. He should be cheering him on. When a kid leaves their parents’ home, that’s freedom, right? It’s calls for pride and celebration.

Then again, it’s not like he’d know.

Raphael just stands in front of him. He’s stopped his - swinging, and is now looking at Magnus, something deep missing in his eyes like he’s not fully there. He’s unnervingly still, and Magnus thinks, not for the first time, that it sometimes feels like Raphael only has two modes when it comes to movement.

He never really managed to teach him how to use body language. It’d be pretty useful. Especially against Camille. Oh, fuck, Raphael was going to try and overthrow Camille. Magnus felt like his whole body was twisting. Was Raphael really ready for that? Magnus couldn’t even help.

His thoughts are forced to a halt when Raphael brings him into a hug, sudden and tight. Maybe a bit too tight, but at the moment, it’s exactly what Magnus needs, that grounding touch and pressure that feels like safety and calms his racing mind. Raphael is small, compared to Magnus, but he feels solid and precious in his arms, both shielding him and needing to be protected. It’s recharging, warm, like his magic when it envelops him after a long day.

It’s a long hug too, enough for Magnus to consider his options. He doesn’t want to put more pressure on Raphael. But Raphael is hugging him. And he feels like Raphael would like to know- deserves to know that he’s loved, that he’ll always have a home with Magnus. That he’s family to Magnus, even if Magnus isn’t to him.

So, when Raphael lets him go, Magnus takes a deep breath and says, “Te quiero.”

“Magnus,” Raphael says, putting each hand on one of Magnus’ arms, like he needs him to stay still to absorb this information, “You’re like a father to me. You know that, right?”

Magnus just stares at him, in open shock, frozen like his whole body and magic has stopped still. Raphael isn’t looking at him, which is probably a good thing, because he looks like he’s battling with the words before they leave his lips.

“You’ve taken me in, and you… Understand me… And you trusted me when I couldn’t trust myself. This will always be my home, to me, as long as it is your home. I don’t want to leave, and I…” he lets out a deep sigh, like he gives up on the battle, and then switches back to spanish, where he sounds confident, strong, certain, “Te amo, Magnus.”

Te amo.

It’s like the world is bursting out of Magnus.

Te quiero means I love you, but te amo runs so much deeper than that. It’s the kind of deep, selfless caring where loving a person feels a natural part of yourself. It’s deep, and strong, and calm, all at once, and many people live without ever saying that to anyone who isn’t their spouse, or family.

It’s bigger than when he made Magnus his mom’s special recipe. It’s bigger than the hugs, and the tears, and the time that he saved his life. It’s solid, palpable, words as solid as a spell’s.

And Magnus bursts.

All but lunges at him, forcing him back into a hug that’s, if possible, even tighter than the previous one. It knocks the air out of his lungs with a sob, sudden and desperate and relieved, like he hasn’t been breathing before he allowed himself to let that fear go.

He’s crying, like a kid, suddenly and freely and honestly, and all words escape him, except for the ones he holds deeper in his heart.

“Anakku yang kuhargai,” he says, amazingly clearly considering how overwhelmed he feels, “aku sayang kau.”

My precious son, I love you so much. It’s Malay. Words of his past, of his history, of his making, from so long ago Magnus doesn’t even know if they’re still the same, but still the ones his heart speaks in, the ones that touch him deepest even when he hasn’t dared utter them in years.

Raphael doesn’t know what it means, of course. It’s so silly- but he doesn’t have to, because he understands it all the same. And he knows, because he gets it, just how much Magnus is sharing by saying this to him, like this, in tears, in Malay, in the language that has always been family and home to him.

Raphael doesn’t know, but he knows, because he hugs Magnus back just as tight, and tells him “it’s okay, it’s okay, we will always be family, Magnus, it’s okay.”

And god, Magnus thinks. It just might be.

[carriagelamp]

April 2020 Book Review - Quarantine Brain Fry Edition

This month of quarantine was much more challenging for me that last March... I suppose because we’re really in the throws of it, and the “extended spring break” feel has worn off. Between general World Anxieties and the incredible challenges of trying to adapt my work into an online setting, my brain has been absolute mush -- and I have a feeling I’m not the only one. Most of my books this month are either very easy reads (comics and children’s novels) or rereads or both! Honestly, I’ve been playing a lot more Animal Crossing than I have been reading...

So the theme for this month of reading? Treat your brain to a rest, and go reread that favourite comic or picture book or graphic novel from when you were a kid. We don’t have libraries or book stores at the moment, so dig deep into your shelf for something you love that you haven’t touched in a while. Here’s what I read:

Ghost Hunters Adventure Club and the Mystery of the Grande Chateau

I’m going to start with best and most unexpected book that I read this month (although this is actually a New Book and not a reread, so maybe it’s a bad start). It’s a Hardy Boys parody novel, and yes it’s by the Game Grumps. The only reason I even found out it existed was because my brother heard about it and we decided that this would be our next Sibling Read Aloud. It made a great read aloud. I was rather skeptical at first, but it was genuinely very clever and very, very funny. There characters were fucking delightful, as they bumbled their way through the mystery, and we ended up accidentally reading almost half the book in one sitting because we couldn’t put it down once we got to endgame. If you like satire and Classic Youth Mystery then do yourself a favour and give this a go. I am desperate for a sequel.

ISHI: Simple Tips from a Solid Friend

A picture book that was recommended to some of the local elementary children who are dealing with isolation from school and their friends. Its beauty is in its simplicity. It shows Ishi, a very simple white stone, experience challenges that it must then find ways to cope with. Things like loneliness, feeling empty or scared, being sad... all things children (and adults, I very much appreciated this little story) may be experiencing. This is definitely a picture book, not a self-help book, but it’s still very encouraging and makes me want to go and create my own Ishi. There’s a reading of it is online, and if you’re feeling like having a solid stone friend reassure you, I would recommend going to listen to it!

Bone 1-5

So, the first in my long list of books that I reread: I’ve started rereading the Bone series for the first time in years. Hands down one of my all time favourite graphic novel series. If you haven’t read Bone, it’s a classic and one of the best example of American graphic novels imho. It’s about Fone Bone and his cousins who, after being driven out of Boneville by Phoney Bone’s money-grubbling stunts, have found themselves across a desert and in a strange, fantastical valley where nothing makes sense. The three of them get drawn into the strange mysteries and adventures of Thorn, her grandmother, and the village of Barrelhaven. Such a perfect blend of beautiful art, comedy and off-the-wall cartoon-level hijinks, as well as really intense, dark adventure and tension as the story unfolds.

Also created this sequence, which may be the funniest two panels ever drawn in a comic

Here Is Greenwood v1

A charming ‘90s manga from my stash that I decided to reread. Honestly one of my favourite feel-good mangas, because it’s such a simple, pure, good-hearted slice of life without some of the gimmicks that other manga use. It’s about Kazuya starting at an all-boys school partway into the year, and moving into the school’s dorms. The entire book is just about him being constantly pestered by the well-meaning characters that share the dorm with him. It’s just goofy and fun, and has the fantastic aesthetic of a good ‘90s manga. Also, it was one of those books that, while technically not ~queer~ was also ~queer enough~ for my deprived teenage soul.

Blood Of Elves

The fourth book of the Witcher series that I’ve finished. I’ll be honest, not my favourite. I really enjoyed the beginning, the whole espionage thing with Dandelion, and then Ciri with Geralt, the Kaer Morhen witchers, and Triss. That was all really fun. It felt like it dragged a lot more though after Ciri joined Yennefer... And yet I love Yennefer as a character, she is hilariously snide and clever and really sweet with Ciri. But it felt like a scene that could have been done in a couple chapters took up half the book. Maybe that’s just because, as I said, my brain was mush and I couldn’t deal with it. I have the next book and as soon as my brain doesn’t look like chicken noodle soup anymore I will be starting it!

The Mouse and the Motorcycle

You know I love a good animal adventure story, and this is one that I adored as a child. The story of Ralph, a young mouse living with his family in a rundown motel, and how he and a young human boy discover that they can understand each other through a shared passion for vehicles... in particular a red toy motorcycle. There’s just something heartwarming about Ralph racing around a motel on a tiny toy motorcycle that runs when he makes motorcycles noises. I’ll have to find the second one as soon as libraries are open again.

Kit: The Adventures of a Raccoon

Another animal adventure story from my childhood, although this one is more of a chapter book than a true novel. This is a book that I’ve been lowkey hunting for years and finally came across in a school library. It’s a more realistic look at what a raccoon’s life is like, from birth to adulthood. Rereading it, it’s not a particularly exciting book and wouldn’t have otherwise stood out to me, but there’s still something that calls to me. It’s very gentle and makes this raccoon’s growing and learning feel very soft and compassionate, even if there are tragedies and death.

A quick edit because it was only just now that I realized that this is a Canadian lit book! Always exciting to discover that a favourite is Canadian!

Calvin and Hobbes: Homicidal Psycho Jungle Cat

Calvin and Hobbes, yet one more bullet to add to the list of Comfort Comics that I’ve pulled out to keep my mind entertained while I can’t quite process Proper Novels. I doubt there’s anything I can say about Calvin and Hobbes that hasn’t already been said. You’ve either read these books already, and are nodding along with  me, or you haven’t and therefore are not a human being I can relate to.

Spy vs Spy

I dug out some of the old Spy vs Spy comics we had as kids. They’re basically falling to pieces, but it was fun -- like so many other books on this list -- to revisit something so familiar but which I haven’t looked at in years. These were a very odd experience to reread, because on one hand Spy vs Spy comics have such a simple, goofy premise it’s hard not to just grin and laugh while you read them, but also like... yup they sure are old and kinda ~problematique~ eh? Whatcha gonna do.

The Twisted Ones

The read aloud my brother and I did before Ghost Hunters, although we technically finished reading it at the very end of March, but too late for it to make that book roundup post. Look, I’m not going to defend myself here. Yes, I’ve read an obscene number of Five Nights at Freddy’s books. The first one of this series The Silver Eyes was honestly better than I would have expected. This sequel was not as good, unsurprisingly, but the main character is still so fucking bizarre, so different than the sort of protagonist I would normally expect from a series like this, that I can’t quite bring myself to stop reading them. And when I had a moment of Realization, about what might be in store for the third book, I genuinely screamed at my brother who was reading at the time. So yes. Somehow this youth horror is better than it has any right to be -- not good but better than it should be -- and yes I will be reading the third the second the libraries open again.

The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh

Another reread! This was a book I got as a birthday present when I was in... probably preschool? It’s a cross between a large picture book and a chapter book. It’s essentially a “novelization” of the original Disney movie, and it has such cute art to go along with it. Winnie the Pooh has always been a favourite of mine, and reading this old book was like a warm hug. Makes me want to see if I can get my VCR set up so I can watch that old movie again...

Frog and Toad Together

A friend found someone reading this book in a very asmr-style on youtube and recommended I listen because they found it super chill. And they were right! It is ridiculously chill. I’ve never read a Frog and Toad story before, but it’s really just a very cute old book that immediately launches you right back into grade one.

The BFG

This is my first time reading the BFG and it has all of Dahl’s usual charm and quirkiness. A young girl gets plucked out of an abusive orphanage by the Big Friendly Giant, who brings her to the terrifying Land Of Giants... all of which are bigger and crueller than the BFG, and who have an appetite for human flesh. It was quick and fun, and it’s always hard not to fall in love with Dahl’s sweet characters, especially this big eared, dream-catching giant.

[imaginedanganronpa]

Can you please do some headcanons Ultimate Bodyguard Nekomaru, Police Officer Mahiru, Guitarist Gundam and ???/Forensic Investigator Peko?

I have lots of Talent-Swap Requests in my Inbox, and some of which seem like they may be from the same person (although I might be wrong, it’s fine if it is, though!) so I’m going to split them up into parts and post them on different days. So, this is technically PART 1!

Talent-Swap AU: Ultimate Bodyguard Nekomaru Nidai, Ultimate Police Officer Mahiru Koizumi, Ultimate Guitarist Gundham Tanaka and Ultimate ???/Forensic Investigator Peko Pekoyama!

Ultimate Bodyguard Nekomaru Nidai

Nekomaru’s personality makes him aperfect match for a bodyguard. He is boisterous and selfless, more than willing to put others before himself.

When he was young, he was told he wouldn’t make it very far in life. Nekomaru isn’tthe most intelligent student but he has a fiery personality, driven by passion. Hewould often get mistaken for an upperclassman, or even an adult, when he wasstill young and many people didn’t take him as seriously because of this.People also assumed that he was held back due to his appearance, which simply wasn’t true.

Giving into the pressure, Nekomaru dropped out of school and began working at several odd-jobs – Coaching, Construction, things like that. 

He got offered aposition as a Bodyguard even though he didn’t meet the age requirement, based on hisolder appearance. Since he was desperate for the money, he kept his trueage a secret and took the offer.

Of course, Nekomaru couldn’t hide this secret forever and ended up getting caught.Once he was discovered, instead of getting fired he was transferred into Hope’sPeak Academy as the Ultimate Bodyguard.

You see, the man he was hired to protect was the Headmaster of Hope’s Peak, whomNekomaru had grown close to. He wasn’t even sure who the man was since specificdetails about their clients is kept a secret, but he was such a successful Bodyguardand cared enough about his job that he was considered to be the best of thebest and in high-demand, plus his age only influenced this decision. To be such a successful Bodyguard at such a young age was unheard of!

He may seem intimidating and aggressive, but he was actually kind at heart.Nekomaru had a secret soft-spot that many people didn’t get to see, and he suppressedthat side of him from his clients since he didn’t want to be a ‘soft’Bodyguard. For once in his life, people took him seriously and his age worked in his favor.

When the Killing Game started, Nekomaru was one of the first skeptics. It didn’tfeel real until the first murder occurred, and ever since then he vowed to protectthe others.

He was especially drawn towards protecting the females – not in a weird way, butbecause that’s what he felt like he needed to do; it’s what felt right. Nekomaru’s personal life-motto was to protect those who cannot protect themselves, and that’s an ideal he would take to his grave.

He would be the type to give up his life to protect someone. His true emotions were uncovered and his softer, more compassionate side shined through when he vowed to keep the others safe.

Nekomaru wanted nothing more than to end this unforgivable situation, although he wasn’t very helpful during the Trials or Investigations. He contributed as much as possible, but regardless the other Ultimates continued to look up to him for his selfless personality and life-goals.

He also developed a hatred for the Mastermind, or whoever was responsible for this Killing Game.

Ultimate Police Officer MahiruKoizumi

Mahiru has always been a sensibleand determined young woman. When she was a child, she never envisioned thatcrime-fighting would ever be the route she took in life. She more-so wanted to be a public speaker or an activist of some kind.

Her father worked in law-enforcement, though, and encouraged her to give it a shot. Within his experience and stories, Mahiru found inspiration. She had seen how he was able to help so many families recover from tragedies and gain some peace of mind, and realized that that was all she wanted to do in life.

Mahiru passed the Police Academy entrance exam when she was much, much younger than the other cadets. Due to her age and the fact that she was female, which was the vast minority among the cadets, as well as her father getting her into the Academy by sheer luck, many of the others doubted her. This, of course, only fueled her intense desire to succeed and prove to them that she would be able to become an amazing Police Officer as well.

Mahiru loved proving others wrong and was used to others doubting her abilities as a child; there has never been a more successful moment in her life than when she graduated at the top of her class, despite everything everyone said.

She was able to easily coax her suspects into handcuffs without having to try, and had an alluring personality that made them listen to her and turn themselves in.

She used her position as a Police Officer to protect civilians, since that’s why Mahiru got into the profession in the first place. However, she also found herself working with young kids and juveniles, doing her best to act as a counselor and guide them into the right path. Mahiru has a perfect track-record of helping young kids clean their lives up.

But most of all, she is outspoken, courageous, and definitely not a pushover. Mahiru has all of the qualities necessary for a good Police Officer, and her entire community adored her. She seemed like their local hero, and that’s why she gained her Ultimate title.

In the Killing Game, she was much more hesitant to reveal her status as a member of law-enforcement. She didn’t want one of the others to paint a target on her back and be viewed as a threat. Mahiru was in top-physical shape but that may not be enough to stop a determined killer.

She simply assisted with the Investigations as much as possible, working alongside her foster sister, Peko Pekoyama. The two girls were an unmatched team and due to their backgrounds, were able to crack each of the murders with ease.

It pained Mahiru to see her friends fall victim to the senseless Blackened. Her willpower and strong sense of justice was clear during the Trials and she wouldn’t stop until the proper killer got what they deserved. Her experience with Court Room settings seemed to play into her advantage and Mahiru felt extremely comfortable, even when trying to uncover the Blackened. The Executions never bothered her either, and at times she wished she could be the one serving them justice.

But those dark thoughts are exactly what started to get under Mahiru’s skin. Was this Killing Game really turning her into a monster?

Ultimate Guitarist Gundham Tanaka

Gundham grew up with a lonesome childhood. Ever since he was very young, music was his outlet for whenever he was feeling societal pressures. It provided him a place where he felt like he belonged, without fear of judgement.

He had a sickly mother and didn’t bring people over to his house or tell them about her condition because of this. He was also perceived to be a loner-type when he would rush home after school everyday to go to her; due to their perceptions, Gundham eventually adapted the lonesome personality that other’s seemed to bestow onto him.

He always had music to rely on, though, and his favorite instrument had always been the Guitar. He would often play music for his mother, since that was one of the only things she could truly enjoy anymore.

Unfortunately, Gundham got kicked out of his school’s Band for being too eccentric and having asuperiority complex over the other students - which was partially due to his many years of being a reject and having to do everything on his own. With that said, he isn’t a badkid. He may be a bit delusional but a lot of that is an act, because he truly does want to form close bonds and friendships with others.

Due to his independence, Gundham had a lot of free-time to practice the Guitar. His superiority complex flared up again when he became determined to show everyone that he was a phenomenal Guitarist, and shouldn’t have lost his place in Band.

Gundham soon became the youngest student to ever get accepted into an All-County Band, which was supposed to be reserved for adults. His audition was far too impressive to pass up, though, which is what really put him in the spotlight and gained the attention of Hope’s Peak Academy.

With that, he was able to finally show his school what he was truly worth, his attitude worsening as he thought he was ‘too good’ for the others now. This is where Gundham’s Dark Lord or God complex stemmed from.

His music also attracted the attention of animals and almost put them in atrance. He loved sitting outside in nature and strumming along on his Guitar - gaining their friendship almost like a Disney Prince. Despite his personality, he did have a soft spot for animals.

At the start of the Killing Game, Gundham went into denial and didn’t trulybelieve that this was real. He tried playing music for the others to relax them, but that only worked for so long.

He wouldn’t be so easily swayed into committing a murder and was a productive member during the Class Trials. Although, his complex personality caused him to become distant, not wanting to get too close to anyone else and fearing showing vulnerability.

Gundham’s only real reason for wanting to make it out of here was to see his mother again, whom he became increasingly worried about as the Killing Game progressed.

Ultimate ???/Forensic InvestigatorPeko Pekoyama

Peko hasn’t had the easiest life,to say the least. When she was a child, she lost several family members to theJapanese Mafia, and when she was in her preteens she finally connected thedots and realized that her family was part of a shady business deal.

She became a very distant and cynical girl – especially when the Mafia murderedher parents and she was sent to an orphanage home. Her childhood caused Peko to develop a series of unstable mental disorders and she became convinced that no one would ever accept her into their lives. 

But remarkably, and to her surprise, she was eventually fosteredby a family who’s father worked in law-enforcement and advised her to, “Use herpast and her hatred as fuel to bring these guys to justice.” Those words resonatedwith Peko and she promised to carry them with her for as long as she lived.

The family’s daughter, a redhead, ended up making it into the Police Academy at a youngage. Peko felt the pressure wanted to make her new foster-family proud of her as well, but knew that law-enforcement wasn’t her scene; that’show she was introduced to Forensics.

She gained the title as an Ultimate when she became the youngest person tobring a serial killer to justice using Forensics alone. She wanted to use hertalent to eventually track down the people who killed her family and do thesame to them.

She had a bit of a twisted mindset and knew it, but masked her true intentions and personality under the clever facade as a Forensic Investigator. Admittedly, she wasn’t the most sane person.

Peko viewed herself as nothing more than a tool for the Police Department. She developed a sense of competition with her foster sister and wanted to find a way to stand out, but often fell short.

That was her motivation for making it out of the Killing Game. Peko wouldn’tallow herself to fall victim in here and used her knowledge of Forensics tosolve the cases with ease. Of course, it would be just her luck to get stuck here with Mahiru as well, who always forced her way into the Investigations whether Peko liked it or not.

But she couldn’t let her thoughts get the best of her - Peko needed to make it out of here alive and not in a body-bag; otherwise, she would never discover the truth behind her parent’s untimely deaths.

However, Peko was intelligent and knew that if she revealed her talent then shewould become an immediate target. She faked having amnesia in front of theothers and kept her lips sealed, insisting that she didn’t remember her talent.

That was a boldface lie, but the only person who knew that was Mahiru, who was also hesitant to reveal her talent and for good reason.

If Peko wanted to, she could easily get away with a murder. Her knowledge of Forensics made it easy to set up the evidence and point towards someone else, and her credibility among her classmates drew suspicion away from her. She knew damn well that no one would suspect or accuse her of being the Blackened…

But she needed to stop thinking like that, otherwise she may end up doing something she regrets… and she can’t afford to put her life at risk.

- Mod Rantaro

[kaibutsushidousha]

How did you feel about Last Encore?

I have no idea. There was so much to unpack from that experience that I really don’t know what to feel about it as whole. I loved the surprise factor from it being advertised as a simple Fate/EXTRA adaptation but turning out to be something out else entirely. I also really loved how fitting the name “Fate/EXTRA: Last Encore” was to the setting: the anime was simply picking all of the Fate/EXTRA characters and giving them one final showing after their real stories were already over (even if only for them to go out not with a bang but with a whimper).

Anyways, overall Last Encore feels like an episodic show, with some episodes/characters that failed, and some that didn’t. To voice my thoughts about it, I would have to go through each character one by one.

Hakuno/Deadface: I was thought Hakuno (the real deal) was perfectly fine as an individual character but terrible as protagonist, and our Deadface-kun here takes the whole thing in the opposite direction. He is serviceable at best as an individual but much better as a protagonist than his EXTRA counterpart. Both were born from basically nothing at the beginning of their stories, but Hakuno defined their (or in this case her) own character with a strongly compelling drive to survive no matter the cost. While her determination was charming and remarkable, Hakuno somewhat fails as a protagonist because Fate/EXTRA had a whole story going on behind the scenes and we don’t get to see that because the current state of the world doesn’t matter for Hakuno’s survival.

Next LE brings us the Hakuno Deadface, a digital ghost born from our survivalist extraordinaire (+ background characters)’s salt over her defeat by the Twice in /EXTRA’s final battle. The edgy hatred speeches are really tedious, but ultimately he gets a neat arc from finding out he is something inherently bad but he is still wants to make something good despite being bad in nature. Unlike Hakuno being a generic NPC, on his case we get a good reflection of his own nature, which leads him to care about the dynamics of the world around him, since he defines him personal goal as improving it, culminating on him wishing for a “new world” with a Moon Cell reset. That makes him more functional as a protagonist than the real Hakuno. All that said, real Hakuno is still more enjoyable to watch.

On I side note, I love that this set up placed female Hakuno as the canon Fate/EXTRA protagonist, because honestly, who played as male Hakuno? I don’t know a single person.

Nero: Nero is just Nero as usual, which (controversial opinion) is always a good thing. That said, like Septem and Extella, this story (justifiably) started with post-development Nero and (unjustifiably) did nothing new with her character. It was already instantly better than the two above because it retold Nero’s backstory with interesting visuals, but still Nero was just Nero.

Shinji and Drake: Shinji was one of biggest highlights here. Easily his best iteration (I know that’s not real praise, but seriously, LE Shinji is really good). In Fate/EXTRA, Shinji is portrayed as the usual obnoxious ass from /stay Night, but after he is defeated, we get treated a reveal this Shinji was not the same Shinji, he was actually just an 8-years old kid roleplaying and that he didn’t even know that dying in the Moon Cell would cause him to die in real life. The big problem with that is that this reveal doesn’t Shinji any less of an edgy asshole than before, so I couldn’t gather any sympathy from it and the only thing it did was setting up the Week 2 storyline with Hakuno questioning whether or not they are capable of sacrificing people with fully realized lives to preserve their own uncertain life.

Then comes in Last Encore, all pushes all these ideas in a much more interesting direction. Instead of all that poorly-written death drama, this Shinji finds out about the “you die in real life” trope by actually winning his first battle and watching his opponent die. This 8-years-old who was acting like an ass because he thought he was just safely having fun in a videogame is faced with the fact that he unknowingly committed murder and decides that he has to do something about it, creating his stagnated city where no ones has to fight. This was an excellent new use of his previous characterization and it finally created a Shinji that’s sympathetic (as you can tell, I still haven’t played CCC).

Drake is still the same as always. Just a support to other characters with no relevant personal motivations of her own. Nothing noteworthy to say about her.

Amari: We didn’t get to see much of her in the anime and I didn’t listen to her Drama CD yet,so there’s not much to say. She presented herself as a woman who controls those weaker than her out of a crippling fear of not amounting to much, and in the end her character didn’t amount to much, so I guess she was good enough in terms of poetic irony.

Dan and Robin: Watching Dan and Robin was sad, and not in any enjoyable or exciting way. It did a good in setting the bleak nature of Last Encore’s world but it sure didn’t do the characters any favors. Robin’s “Should I just tell the old man to give and die?” scene was really strong and I also liked Dan’s sniping trick, but that aside, those two did not perform really well.

Alice: I don’t feel like I need to say much here because’s Alice’s story is the one thing everyone, Last Encore fans and haters alike, agree to be the best part of Last Encore. The original Fate/EXTRA really failed to make me feel anything about Alice’s character, because it focused too much on the mystery of the two Alices to give her some proper characterization (maybe that part would be better if I and everyone else weren’t already spoiled about Nursery Rhyme’s true nature), and when they did, the focus would be higher on the creepiness than in the tragic factor of the character.

Last Encore, on the other hand, realized the full tragedy potential of the character and created a very beautiful piece about it. And, as if being the most emotionally interesting part of the show weren’t enough, her chapters also get the Madoka witch barrier backgrounds and the Glass Game loops to make them the most visually and structurally interesting as well.

Julius and Shuwen: Julius being a Deadface was clever because he kinda was already one by the last week of the game. However, this time Julius’ Deadface status serves only to make Hakuno aware of what he is to kickstart his arc, while this moment in the game proper was entirely about Julius’ own character. Since he got nothing of that, both Julius and Shuwen appear as complete non-characters wearing familiar faces for no interesting reason.

Rin and Rani: They were nice, but considering their importance, I don’t think I cared nearly as much as the show wanted me to. Rani’s different personality added to the main cast dynamic in the few occasions she was present, but that was barely ever. None of her deaths really stroke with me because she of this lack of presence (and because she’s so dull in the game as well). Rin got to be more present, but her weirdly genki personality here overlap with Nero and was consequently overshadowed by her. This Rin would be better if she was allowed to be more proud and confrontational like her other versions, but I understand how her circumstances are too dire for her to afford that. One thing I did like a lot about this Rin was Hakuno acknowledging her 1000 year struggle and saying she was the one who deserved the Grail. That was really nice.

Leo and Gawain: Leo didn’t get to shine much here, but I’m never displeased with Leo content. Him being made to confront the flaws in his ideology is nice and the hope he gets from the Deadface Hakuno is what made me start liking the protagonist. Gawain was the same as usual and nothing interesting was done with him.

Twice: Twice is exactly the same character he was in the game, except his stupid 2-hour long speech is spread through multiple episodes starting from the first, instead of having him appear from nowhere as the final boss and spew everything at once. Undoubtedly much better but still not good enough to fix Twice’s character.

[dawnstruck]

Song of Solomon 4:7

Ronan Lynch does not believe in sins. He confesses anyway.

[Read on AO3] Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish, character study, pre-slash

At St. Agnes, Sunday morning mass was typically held by Pastor Denver who was as much a staple of Aglionby as the ravens, the big cars, and the boys with more money than wits were.

Ronan who went to church primarily for the family he once had and the family he still had left, had always liked Pastor Denver. He would still go to mass, even if he didn't like him, but he wouldn't do it quite this easily. This religiously.

Pastor Denver was ancient, from Ronan's own teenaged-yet-old-beyond-his-years perspective. He was sturdy for someone closing in on seventy, not quite stooped with age, and his face was more weathered by the sun than wizened by the passage of time.

Some days, the only real proof of how long he had been around was his snow white hair and the liver spots marking his hands, but his liberal smile and the twinkle in his eyes more than made up for that.

Ronan never quite knew what he else liked about going to church, except for that it had long been a habit and, even for him, those were hard to break. Especially since they connected him to his father in ways that had little to do with blood or real magic.

He didn't quite like kneeling on the pews. Didn't quite like praying and hoping that someone not-Cabeswater was actually listening. He didn't quite like staring at smooth-yet-cracked-in-some-places wooden Jesus on the cross behind the altar that had been a generous gift from an alumni and that was supposedly 300 years old. He didn't quite like going to confession.

But he liked Pastor Denver. So he went to confession anyway.

He wouldn't have, under most circumstances, as Ronan did not truly believe in sins.

He used the word 'fuck' like others said 'please' or 'thanks', just more viciously and with more versatile applications. He punched people he hated and sometimes he punched people he maybe-still-kind-of-loved. He spent entirely too much time looking at another boy and even more time just thinking about him.

In the recesses of his mind, a voice that sounded too reasonable to not have been inspired by Gansey told him that he was just using this as a substitute instead of actually getting a proper therapist. That even someone like Ronan Lynch occasionally needed someone who listened to him without bias.

Pastor Denver, surprisingly, was someone like that.

For all intents and purposes, he shouldn't have been.

He was from somewhere in Virginia, another town much like Henrietta, maybe even a little more backwater. Not an Aglionby boy himself, but still from a well-to-do family. Upstandingly pious and simply born and raised in a different time.

Boys who came to him after service or throughout the week spoke of weed and other vices. They confessed frustration with their studies, anger at their parents. They were told to speak three Ave Marias, they did, they felt absolved.

Ronan, who did not believe in sins, did not believe in absolution either.

"What brings you here, my child?" Pastor Denver asks kindly when Ronan pulls the rickety door of the confessional shut behind himself and sinks down on the worn velvet of the bench. Pastor Denver does not have to glance through the grid separating the two stalls to know who he is talking to. He'll recognize Ronan's voice, of course, but he also recognizes Ronan's gait, Ronan's attitude.

Ronan never says, Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned, as sins are void and meaningless, a human invention where he believed in animal law.

"He had a fight with Blue and they broke up. I think. They didn't really say anything."

No introduction, no pleasantries. Pastor Denver does not need them.

"Did that make you feel relief?" he asks.

Numbly, Ronan shakes his head, his near-naked scalp dragging against the wooden wall behind him. Pastor Denver can't see that, though, so Ronan says, "I wasn't relieved. I was..." He ponders on the word, finds no better one. "Sad."

"Why sad?" "Because," he says slowly, "I thought they would be good. For each other. Blue would be good for him."

"Do you think he needs someone good?" "He needs someone who loves him."

"And did she?"

"I thought so," Ronan purses his lips. If he really thinks about it, it's stupid. Blue is sixteen and scruffy and hungry for something more than another Henrietta kid also hungry for something more. They are too alike in that regard. Too starved for change.

Ronan balls his hands to fists and unclenches them. He has too much change in his bones.

"Maybe she did," he continues, "Maybe she could have, eventually. But now that's done."

He had seen the look in Blue's eyes when she looked at who was now her ex though he had never really been her boyfriend to begin with wasn't the look of teenage girl who felt she had been wronged, though Ronan had to admit that he didn't know much about teenage girls. Blue had been sad and scared and worried and angry and proud and selfless in her selfishness, and that Ronan did know a lot about.

“And he?” Pastor Denver asks. He never says the name, though Ronan thinks that might be because he himself had never explicitly mentioned it. Maybe Pastor Denver thinks he has been talking about Gansey all this time, or about some other boy. Or maybe Ronan is really that obvious. That is his greatest fear, next to night terrors and memories of finding his father's body or thinking of wasps in Gansey's mouth, his lungs, his heart.

“He what?” he asks.

“Did he love her?”

Ronan thinks about his own wording for a long moment, even though he has known the answer for a long while.

“I think he is so starved for love that he would accept it from anyone at all,” he tries finally. Maybe this is why he never needed to say the name here; it obviously wasn't about Gansey. “I think he doesn't quite know the difference and so he would hold on to cheap facsimiles.”

It had taken months and a deaf ear to finally get him out of that trailer park and, on some days, he still seemed like he'd rather go back that acknowledge that his own parents did not love him in a way that deserved to be call love.

“And you?” Pastor Denver asks and Ronan sucks in a breath. They'd never spoken about that either. It had hung there, like cobwebs surreptitiously spun in the dark and when you took a step to far you got a mouthful of it and couldn't help but feel betrayed even though it was you who had decided to not simply turn on the lights.

“Doesn't matter,” he says, drawing a veil of carelessness over his voice, “This is not about me.”

He likes to pretend, sometimes, that he is not here for himself. Not for his supposed sins, certainly, but also not for his souls. Just a favor for a friend who does not know about it.

This is not about how Kavinsky calls him faggot and makes suggestive gestures at him. Not about how Adam and Gansey and even fucking Noah make cow eyes at Blue like breasts were a new invention. It's not about Ronan deciding against sleep and nightmares and lying awake in the dark instead, turning the word 'gay' over and over in his mind. Maybe that's it, though. Maybe he is actually sleeping when he thinks about it, maybe him poking at it and touching it with curious hands had made it become real. Maybe it never was a part of him, but he made it one, because it was a strange dream thing and he had brought it into his world.

Maybe it could be unmade.

“Ronan,” Pastor Denver says and it's rare that he addresses him directly because this is still happening under the guise of faux anonymity.. Automatically, Ronan sits up a little straighter. He does not do that for just any authority figure, but clergymen are to be respected, for the most part.

“Ronan,” the old man repeats and he has leaned forward a little. The tip of his hooked nose is barely visible behind the grid. “You are very mature, for your age.”

It's rare that someone would say that about Ronan. Most people think him a prissy brat, an adolescent caught in his rebellious phase who needed someone to shake him and set him on a straight path again.

Hah, Ronan thinks pathetically. Straight.

Pastor Denver knows a little about Ronan, of course. He knows of his murdered father and his comatose mother and his overbearing older brother. The Lynch family name in general is well known, though people know little about the individuals.

So maybe Pastor Denver inferred that Ronan was mature by the way he had not shed a single tear at his father's open grave, had instead held his little brother's hand because their mother was already absent even then. Maybe he could tell from the blue shadows underneath Ronan's eyes and the way his jaw was almost continuously gritted in a manner that was not at all recommended by leading dentists. Maybe he had heard enough confessions in his life to be able to suss people out, just like that.

“But you are also still very young,” Pastor Denver continuous and that, at least, is familiar territory. Unlike Declan, however, he manages to say it without condescension.

“So?” Ronan demands anyway, his shoulders hunching up in a reaction he tells himself is more aggressive than defensive.

“It's alright for you to feel like you don't quite fit,” Pastor Denver says in his broad Virginian accent. When he preaches, his Latin has the same accent and Ronan has always liked something about that, too, that it was not really a dead language, but that it still developed and adapted. “It's alright if there are parts of you that you don't yet understand.”

He means the unspoken gay thing and the not-all-done-with-puberty thing. The you-experienced-terrible-tragedy-at-a-very-crucial-stage-in-your-life thing is in there, too, probably, but Ronan kind of wants to laugh. The pastor, for all his belief in higher powers, knows not a thing about dreams or ley lines or immortal kings.

But he does know how Ronan's voice goes a little tender, a little reverent when he speaks of the boy with the name-that-is-not-named, and maybe that is enough.

“What should I do?” Ronan asks, even though he never asks anyone for advice ever.

“Go,” Pastor Denver says heartily, “Live a little, enjoy the day. You never know how many there are left.”

“Carpe diem?” Ronan says wryly, “Really?”

“YOLO, as the the youngins say,” Pastor Denver replies, flippant. “Oh God,” Ronan snorts, his abs contracting with what wants to be full-bellied laughter, and he doesn't even care that he took the Lord's name in vain while in church because the priest honestly just said YOLO and that is probably just as bad.

Pastor Denver has no idea that death features a little more prominently in the lives of Ronan and his friends, but maybe his words have some wisdom to them anyway.

“Run along now,” the old man tells him, “From what I could smell over the incense there were at least two of your peers who need to repent for the use of certain borderline illegal substances.”

Ronan grins, already getting up from his seat, when he remembers something.

“Should I pray?” he asks, fingertips on the brazen door handle.

“No,” the pastor says, “There are no sins to absolve. Go buy yourself some ice cream and enjoy the sunshine.”

So Ronan goes, saunters down along the side of the pews where the boys who sing in the choir are almost done with re-arranging the Bibles. He's got his hands jammed into the pockets of his slacks, though it does not quite have the same effect as it would with his ripped jeans, and when he gets to the heavy oaken doors he shoves one open with his left shoulder.

Light greets him, almost blinding after the comforting darkness of the confessional, and he has to blink and wait for his eyes to adjust.

When he does, his very own messiah is awaiting him.

Sitting on the small set of stairs that leads up to the chapel, Adam Parrish has his elbows braced against his knees and it watching the sporadic Sunday morning traffic. When he hears the hinges of the door, he glances back and up at Ronan.

“Took a while,” he says, as though he had been waiting here since mass was over. Since before that, even.

“Got a lot of sins to get of my chest,” Ronan says, even though he does not believe in sins.

Adam looks at him like he might know that, but he just stands up, unnecessarily brushes the dust off his pants and asks , “Man upstairs been listening?”

“Nah,” Ronan tilts his head back, so far that the tendons in his neck are straining. He squints up at the violent blue of the sky. “He doesn't bother with the small fish.”

“Ronan Lynch, a small fish,” Adam echoes in disbelief, but then he jostles Ronan with his shoulder, “I would've thought you were a shark, with that smile and that blood thirst of yours.”

Ronan bares his teeth and jostles him right back, nearly hip-checks him right off the stairs and into the downtrodden grass. But a not-that-little part of him is pleased, pleased because apparently Adam sometimes thought about the way he smiled and, last year in Biology, the two of them had held a presentation about apex predators (upon Ronan's insistence), and Adam had gotten them an A by explaining how sharks were terribly misunderstood creatures who really did not kill all that many people.

Humans, they both knew, were the most fearsome animals of all.

“Wanna get some ice cream?” Ronan asks, non-sequitur.

“It's not that hot,” Adam says, as though no one had ever had ice cream outside of summer.

“C'mon,” Ronan says, “My treat.”

Wrong thing to say, of course.

“Ronan,” Adam starts, his chest puffing up.

“Hey,” Ronan says, poking him in the sternum. Adam's breath rushes out in a sudden gush.

“There's that hot air we need to justify getting ice cream,” Ronan teases, “You did your share, I'll do mine.”

He winks at him, quite cheekily, to defuse the bomb or take the wind out of Adam's desperately self-sufficient sails, he's not quite sure, and Adam-

Adam stills and glances away with lowered lashes.

“Alright,” he says, a little too softly to not make the moment feel somewhat meaningful, “Let's go.”

Together, they cross the parking lot, over to Ronan's gleaning BMW, and Ronan gets behind the wheel and Adam gets on the passenger seat. It's rare, these days, for them to be alone together, and that in itself makes it feel tantalizing. As though they were actually going on a date, instead of Ronan just playing make-belief.

That's fine, though. Ronan has always been a dreamer.

And, he reminds himself, as he revs the engine but does not turn up his thudding music, his dreams have a habit of becoming reality anyway.

Song of Solomon 4:7 You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you.

[lia-nikiforov]

Fall 2016 Anime: Last impressions

What, me? Posting something that’s not Yuri on Ice? Did I wander to the wrong blog? Oh right, this isn’t supposed to be a Yuri on Ice blog to begin with, oops.

After a very shitty semester and my Mom’s and sister’s vacations messing up with my anime watching schedule (plus a shitty vicious cycle of not watching anime to work on thesis-not working on thesis because stressed from not watching anime), I finally finished catching up with Fall anime, barely on time before Winter begins (I know some winter shows have premiered already, but none that interest me. Rakugo’s on today though!!!!). So here’s a rundown of the best and worst of this most fruitful Fall season. If there’s a gif it means I forgot to take a screenshot of the last episode whoops.  (worst to best my dears, you know how this goes)

Dropped:

Shuumatsu no Izetta: I really tried. Even after the stupidity of episode 4 put me to sleep, I tried to give it a second shot, but episode 6 was literally everything that is wrong with modern anime and ugh, please release me from this hell. Of course having a strong female character was too progressive for a yuribait show, you just had to make her have insecurities about her normal-sized boobs (vs everyone’s ginormous) and dedicate 25 entire minutes to show that she’s actually a real girly girl that likes pie. Ugh. And I didn’t even mention how stupid the “Izetta’s secret might be revealed” plot element was. That was some garbage writing if I ever saw one. Most of what I’ve read after dropping it seems to indicate it was the best choice

3gatsu no Lion: I’m confused with this show. The production values make it very attractive to watch. There is a harsh and interesting story and character drama happening. Episode 5 was particularly great, and some of the storytelling devices are implemented brilliantly. But for some reason I can’t bring myself to care? I don’t know. The more I see the three sisters, the more the scenes with them bore me to death. I found the idea of watching episode 6 terribly not-compelling so I decided to put it in the back burner and wait out. Maybe I’m just incompatible with this mangaka (I really hate HachiKuro). People seem to be loving it, so maybe I’ll give it another shot at a later date.

Touken Ranbu Hanamaru: This was my biggest disappointment of the season because episode 2 was so good. It tickled all my rekijo bones in the best way. But then it just… nothing ever happened? Also the way all the sword boys gush about how much they love the (invisible but obviously audience-proxy) “Master” is way too transparent and took me out of whatever little interesting character dynamics might be going on. What could be an interesting theme –the swordboys having regrets about not protecting their past owners and being tempted to fix it- is wasted in a “it’s okay, I have a new master now!”. Even with my fujoshi goggles there was little of interest because the boys were so infatuated with the Master I couldn’t even enjoy any of it. Held out until episode 9 and just couldn’t be arsed for more. Maybe the more serious ufotable show will be better?

Nanbaka: I don’t know what went wrong with this mangaka that suddenly decided to turn a perfectly fine comedy into a Very Serious battle shonen thing? Especially mid-arc? The New Year tournament had revitalized the show, I was having a load of fun with it, but then it suddenly turned all dark and serious and nonsensical? The only thing tempting me to go back for the last three episodes is Hajime, he’s a champ. But yeah, the shift in tone was too drastic and kind of spoiled the show for me because I was loving it exactly as it was. It didn’t need the drama. Some people seem to be liking the new direction but ehhhh… idk. If I have time.

The worst:

17. DAYS: It was hard to choose which of these two was gonna be the poop prize winner, but in the end, given how much I struggled to even sit through the last couple of episodes, I guess DAYS takes it. Honestly seldom have I seen a show so infuriatingly ruined by “protagonist no jutsu” i.e. things just happen because a dude is the main character. Kimishita scored three completely bananas goals in that game (bless his heart I love him), but Tsukushi gets all the credit for earning the free kicks and second balls and shit and he’s the one credited as the “hero” of the game. It’s amazing that such an insufferable protagonist is part of a show with an otherwise endearing supporting cast. Now will my love for Mizuki and Kimishita be enough to pull me into watching season 2? Tune in some time next year to find out! (spoiler: most likely no unless it comes out on a boring season)

16.Mahou Shoujo Ikusei Keikaku: I called this show the winner of the “Showed its cards too early Award” since episode one, but boy I didn’t expect it to continue doing the exact same thing over and over through its entire run. At some point it became a very unsurprising formula of showing a character’s tragic backstory at the start of the episode to fabricate last minute sympathy to make up for lack of proper characterization, only to have the character in question murdered in increasingly distasteful ways. I always knew best girl Top Speed wasn’t long for this world, but the way they handled it was gratuitously vicious. Couple that with a barrage of villains, none of which were remotely compelling or had any interesting motivations, a poor man’s Kyubey, a protagonist that is even more infuriatingly passive than Madoka herself (at least in this aspect, MahoIku surpassed its intellectual mother), and a resolution that basically says this whole thing served no purpose whatsoever and you’re left with just a feeling that you could’ve done something better with your life. I never expected grandeur from this show, and in fact I guess it turned out to be about as bad as I could’ve expected it to be, but that doesn’t really erase how terribly dissatisfying the ending was. I guess that’s one weakness that Dark Magical Girl shows have yet to overcome. 

Normally a “the meh” section would be here, but I dropped all those shows for lack of entertainment and time, so we’re skipping straight to

The okay

(I liked these shows but none of them changed my life and I was severely tempted to drop them at least once)

15.Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans: I have rather complicated feelings about this show. The writing has improved immensely since the second half of S1 and they’re doing a fascinating job at working the different shades of moral grey. Mika’s sick relationship with Orga continues to keep me on my toes. But with only 12 episodes left I’m still not entirely sure of where this is going, and most importantly, it stinks of tragedy and there seems to be a general lack of joy in both characters and story, so I always go to watch it with little enthusiasm and maybe a bit of anxiety.

14.Girlish Number:  This one turned out way better than I expected it to be, although perhaps for different reasons than most. Usually when I hatewatch something, it’s for the pleasant schadenfreude I get out of seeing something continue to fail miserably week after week (see Sailor Moon Crystal or Mayoiga). In that sense, I wasn’t hatewatching Girlish Number but boy was I getting schadenfreude about seeing the exploitative producer go on a downwards spiral and the shitty LN anime adaptation turning up a complete failure. But because this was the source of my enjoyment, the finale was, to say the least, dissatisfying. If the show had ended with Chitose getting a proper comeuppance and landing different jobs (in non-shitty-LN-anime) that forced her to climb her way back up instead of trying to have  sudden fabricated popularity, while Kuzu got his ass fired that would’ve been cool. But the “Oh I ended loving this production” ending was ehhhh. It felt the show ended going milquetoast on its criticism of the industry. Criticized the seiyuu idol units but still had the seiyuu sing the OP and ED criticized the cheap swimsuit fanservice but still had a swimsuit episode etc. I mean they went really damn hard on the industry, so it was weird and a little frustrating that they didn’t go the whole way, given how they’d already guaranteed to lose the buying audience anyway.

13.Udon no Kuni no Kiniro Kemari: It’s hard to explain what went wrong with this one because, if you asked me, I’d say I really liked it overall. But the key problem is perhaps that I adored the first two episodes so deeply and then somewhere in the middle it kind of floundered and went in a different direction than what I expected –which isn’t inherently bad, mind you- but it’s weird that there’s so little actual udon in the show when they’re in the title. The finale was good in idea, but I feel it failed to make the emotional landing, and that they capped it off to be a sort of commercial for Kagawa prefecture was just… weird. So uh, it was a good show but definitely didn’t live up to the promise of the first few episodes.

12.Uta no Prince-sama Legend Star:  For me, this and Magikyun are basically tied, because, although I have more love for Utapri due to how long it’s been around and how I’ve grown so endeared to the characters, I can’t say Magikyun did anything worse or better. But anyway Utapri! Revolutions had me losing a little of my love for the franchise, but Legend Star was really great! The music improved drastically and we got some truly neat character arcs. The Otoya arc was surprisingly good. It’s sad to see they’ve fully committed to shitty CG dancing though ): But oh well, the Quartet Night song was great and there’s even more anime coming because Broccoli does like printing money after all. Almost forgot to mention it, but Haruka is hardly relevant this season and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but I’ll also say I didn’t particularly miss her.

11.Magic-Kyun Renaissance:  I’ll say this about Magikyun, it was less dumb than I expected given the title. I mean it was super dumb, but it could’ve been dumber. It was also a lot of fun, had neat visuals and surprisingly good songs? I feel it could’ve ended in episode 9 because it doesn’t feel like the new resolution in ep 13 actually added anything of note to the story or the characters, but it was okay. It’s harmless dumb entertainment and that’s what I wanted it to be. 

The good

10.Flip Flappers:  It’s always great to see passion projects like this, even if they don’t always stick the landing. In the gayest anime season, FliFla gave us a lesbian visual spectacle that was among the best animated experiences of the year. While narratively it blooped a little in the last third and became a weird Eva-ish nightmare, it sorta kinda worked out at the end, although definitely didn’t live up to its initial dreamy potential. And it was very lesbian, although I feel it was lowkey creepy lesbian since Papika is somehow an adult??? I think they explained some things too much and left others glaringly unexplained. Some weird things happened in that production that hindered its potential, but it’s still a fascinating series to look at, even if you don’t dig the character dynamics (which are adorable but in the end didn’t do much for me). Could’ve done with 100% less creepy robot though     

9.Classicaloid: I’d call Classicaloid the Bungo Stray Dogs (season 1) of the Fall because while it wasn’t what I wanted or expected, it managed to grow on me. I was on the edge of dropping it because the wacky one-note humor wasn’t working for me at all, but with the introduction of Schubert and the slow drip of answers to our questions of what is even happening in this show, it became notoriously more fun. Definitely the strongest moments of the show are when we get to see the Classicaloids having flash backs to their past lives (the episode about Beethoven and his loss of hearing was particularly brilliant) and while I still mostly have no idea of where this is going at all, they’ve definitely got me hooked wanting to know what Bach is even planning.

8.Drifters: This might have gone even higher up the ranks if not for all the homophobic and sexist jokes ugh. But I guess it’s a testament to how entertaining it is that I watched it all through and would still watch the upcoming second season (or maybe it’s a testament to what a good job it did in tickling my very specific rekijo bone). The characterization of Nobunaga in particular is absolutely brilliant, and the little nuances in the interactions between characters of different time periods are fantastic. Cool action sequences and interesting strategizing and politicking. But I reckon this isn’t something that’s gonna sway the non-history buffs. Also ew the sexist and homophobic jokes. The show has great comedy without that, please don’t be so gross Hirano.

7.ALL OUT!!: It had a bit of a slow start, but once it started picking up with the practice matches and developing the team, it’s just gotten exponentially better! Especially since the addition of the coach. DAYS could learn a thing or two about how it isn’t necessary to make the inexperienced main character the sudden “hero” of the team to make for a compelling sports story. That said I still do not understand about 75% of how rugby works at all, but the endearing cast and the passionate games make up for it. Also the horrible hair. Definitely looking forward to where these kids will go in the second half.

The excellent

6.Fune wo Amu: This is a case of me one-sidedly having expectations that a show can’t live up to and thus I don’t enjoy it as much as I could. Which is no fault of the show itself and it is in fact one of the best anime of the season (arguably the year). It does fail on the entertainment department, but compensates with beautiful craftsmanship and a wonderful portrayal of human feelings and relationships. While it wounded up being Very Heterosexual (and the main couple develops in a rather cold and questionable manner, but hey, the wife wasn’t forced to give up her dreams to become a housewife. A+ for progress! ) the portrayal of Majime’s camaraderie with Nishioka (and Nishioka’s very great relationship with his gf!) was really the heart of the show, and just for that it’s absolutely worth the watch.

5.Natsume Yuujinchou Go: I think it’s rather telling to the quality of the season overall that Natsume Yuujinchou somehow fell just slightly above the middle of the pack. I do feel this season of Natsume was weaker than the previous ones, but to be honest I can’t quite pinpoint why. Maybe it didn’t feel like we reached a new milestone in Natsume’s development or in learning about Reiko –in fact, it feels we learned conspicuously little about Reiko this season-, although the final episode and the Touko episode were notable highlights. With a sixth season already in the works, I have little else to say other than, even when it’s not in top form, this is still among the best one could ever hope to get from anime

4.Bungo Stray Dogs 2: Remember how season 1 was good but not what I wanted it to be? Well, season 2 wasn’t exactly what I’d originally hope BSD would be about but it sure as fuck was fantastic! Starting with the flashback episodes to Dazai’s time in the Port Mafia and the story of Oda Sakunosuke, to the introduction of the American writers and the follow-up with Kyouka and Atsushi’s arcs as well as Akutagawa (!!!!) it was a genuinely amazing season that completely justifies watching the first one even if you weren’t entirely convinced about it at first. My only gripe is the lack of Kunikida, but this season showed that Dazai is the lynchpin of this series and he fulfills that role to perfection. I loved loved loved this season and I hope we get more of this series.

3.Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Diamond is Unbreakable: While it floundered a little in the second cour (seriously I was happy Shigechi died, he was an awful character), it picked itself right back up in the third and the battle against Kira –who is an astonishingly amazing villain- was just week after week of blood-pumping excitement and fun. Not every episode was perfect, but the package as a whole is fantastic. At moments it felt more like Kishibe Rohan’s Bizarre Adventure, but even that was okay because every member of the cast was so great. You can see the passion David Production has for this franchise, and I’m hoping they’ll continue adapting it. While Joseph is still Best JoJo, I think part 4, with its incredibly strong cast and creative set up might be my favorite arc so far.

2.Haikyuu 3: vicky’s probably gonna hate me for this but If I’m honest, the Shiratorizawa match wasn’t my favorite in the manga. I love the development Tsukki got through it and I commend Furudate for how brilliantly he’s been working in making these characters grow in such satisfying ways. But Shiratorizawa, and Ushijima specially, is the epitome of OP rival and that’s something that’s never really worked for me. It felt like the Rakuzan game in Kurobas, there were moments in which it felt that it just never ended. And I was worried about how they were going to work it into ten episodes. I think it’s a testament to the anime team that they managed to make it not actually feel like 10 episodes, and that they’ve made this one of the most exciting matches to watch in all of Haikyuu. It was truly spectacular and I can’t wait for S4

THE BEST

1.Yuri!!! on ICE: Joke’s on you, this was a Yuri on Ice post all along!! Even if my conflicted feelings about the ending had been sourer and heavier, I would have no doubt that this is the best show of the season (and the year). It’s taken me a while, but after having chewed on my feelings for a couple of days (while fighting the denialists with all my might) I’m even more confident about it. I don’t even know what more praise I can rain on this beautiful, beautiful show that has literally saved me so many times during this really difficult trimester and I am ever so grateful to its creators for giving us such a beautiful gift in such dark times. Now please end our suffering and confirm a season 2, because just like Victor and Yuuri can’t live without each other (canon!) I can’t live without them anymore ;---;

What a strong season this was! A high note to end an otherwise shitty year! Thanks everyone for following this nonsense blog and I hope this new year brings us all more beautiful anime (and less menstrual cramps for me). Winter shows I’m watching premiere literally today so I’ll skip the “anticipation” rundown and go straight to my watchlist in a couple of weeks.  As always, I’ll be happy to hear which were your favorite and least favorite shows of the season, but I know y’all never answer to my questions ;----;