#notable exceptions aside its just getting sad out here

[tinrange]

Romance kdramas have lost all semblance of sexual tension between leads bc theyre facing an incurable disease (the most charismatic up and coming actors are under 180cm)

[talenlee]

3e: Monk Attacks

Have you ever encountered something where a system is evident but the language for discussing it isn’t?

Cast your mind back to the days of Dungeons & Dragons 3rd edition. No, not 3.5, the one that forms the basis for Pathfinder that people generally claim is ‘the good one’ before 4th edition (the best edition) came along. 3rd edition, the edition before 3.5, which is what it definitely was, was notable for being ‘the things people like about 3.5 D&D, but all quite a bit more shit.’

Know what was really bad in 3rd edition? Well, a lot of things, including Paladins, Rangers, Fighters, Barbarians, Bards, Half-Orcs, Half-Elves, Halflings and all but two melee weapons, but, in particular for this conversation, one class that was quite bad was the monk.

I won’t relitigate the whole story of how 3rd edition was a bad place to be a person whose primary job was punching things in the face. If you want to know more about that, I’ve written about it elsewhere, but just as an example, haste was a really stupidly powerful spell that made every melee character struggle to keep up. But if we cut off the top of the graph where all the spellcasters that are good (like the wizard, druid, and cleric) live, and focus just on the 3.0 Loser Brigade that do melee damage, even then in that space, the monk had some problems.

The way the monk worked is that the monk, limiting itself to melee attacks made with its fist or its collection of ‘exotic’ monk weapons, would get to attack more often, at lower accuracy. At level 1, instead of swinging a 2d6 greatsword, you could make two 1d6 attacks at -2, for… well, less likely to deal 2d6. But okay, you may think, the trade-off isn’t good at level 1, but what if the monk gets better, faster, than the fighter does?

Well, let’s assume that’s the case, and before we move on to talk about how badly that is implemented, that idea is a really bad one for the actual game. If a level 1 wizard, level 1 fighter, and level 1 monk all approach roughly equal threats knowing that some of them are just plain out worse at dealing with things, then you’ve got a balance problem. Being unfairly bad at level 1 doesn’t make being unfairly strong at level 16 okay, and vice versa. The notion that power ‘scales up’ in this non-linear way is one of the poisons 3e has had in it, because you run into a problem so obvious that it’s got a TVtropes page.

No I’m not going to link to it.

But here’s where things get really weird, when we talk about iterative attacks. Except I’m not sure the game rules call them ‘iterative’ – that’s game language that cropped up for sad dorks online. The way the rules worked is that you have a stat, universal for all characters, called a base attack bonus. When your base attack bonus passed a 5 threshold, you got another attack at -5, at the end, if you ever did a full attack. That means when your base attack bonus was 6, you could make two attacks, one at +6, one at +1.

Monks got a different version of this; they got to iterate their attacks when their Base Attack Bonus crossed the number 4. Since they got the medium Base Attack Bonus (which improves at a rate of three points every four levels), that meant that they got their second attack at level 6, just like a fighter, their third at level 10, one level before the fighter, their fourth at level 14, two levels before the fighter, and their fifth at level 18. Fighters never got a fifth attack (I know, I know, you in the back, you’re very clever, leave it for now). At level 18, the monk could be attacking for 6d20, whenever they make a full attack, with their flurry, and that sounds pretty cool!

And we’re going to set aside the gap between magical powers and weapon enchantments and things like bleeding weapons that monks can’t use and all that jazz, but the important thing here is this is all due to the way that the monk adds its base attack bonus. The rules, once you know that iterative attacks work by adding base attack bonus, are evident. Monks get their extra attacks at +4, so, hey, maybe you could push the monk to get more attacks, faster, if you mix monk levels with fighter levels? What does that do?

It does nothing.

Don’t get me wrong, there were some vague attempts to work on it – there was in the 3e book Sword and Fist, where a monk prestige class said some things about adding and it counting, and monk levels count, but the whole thing was written in a very confusing way. And like, the rules didn’t have a good formal way to say: Monks gain extra attacks for every 4 points of base attack bonus. Or A monk’s unarmed attack iterates at +4.

It was a weird thing where the game rules clearly had this complex rules operation, but also the game had no in-language way to refer to it. Like, the game doesn’t refer to as ‘points of base attack bonus’ or even ‘when your base attack bonus exceeds.’ It’s just something the game only represented on tables. And that means that it was very easy to work out how the rules worked, but the game rules then had a very hard time explaining how the rules worked to players. The way it wound up wording things for Monk Prestige Class is that monk prestige class levels stacked with monk class levels for determining bonus attacks, but not actually base attack bonus. So you had to always make sure you were taking levels in 4s, which was awkward and untidy.

Monks were helped quite a bit in the next edition, 3.5, where they had a smoother damage curve and more abilities and they were just a little bit less hooped by damage resistance and the like in general. It was a much needed improvement necessary to keep Monks as about as shitty as Barbarians and Fighters, and well away from being actually strong.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[jotadoul]

i was rooting around in the mud to try answering some of my own questions from my previous post and i'm sort of putting together the idea that... within gaea or anywhere, if a/the system is so restrictive that people's concept of freedom and relief necessitates (or appears to only come by way of) conquest, and there appears to be no other option, then that's what they'll seek. they haven't been shown that peace can come by any other means than as an outcome of war, of self-preservation. ok.

so that's the fateful force here... there's nothing to break up that cycle of violence. man i guess! like obviously i understand how that pairs with real life (see: capitalism.) as someone who loves and loves to write cyclical narratives and narratives about cycles, i do like that. but i have a hard time accepting concepts that intend to cover an entire world without exception— stories that are about saving A World, at that zoomed-out level, just don't grip me as much as a more intimate scope. i feel like it has to be one or the other, or i get to see Other aspects of the world zoomed-out too; how the structure of its universe works. because it feels unfair to assume no one tried breaking the cycle previously in places we don't get to know about. we get to see the wolfmen et al, living in the forests far away from people, and beset upon by people nonetheless. but if that were such an example, it feels much too implicit when the other exposition is so explicit.

and if it takes more than one person to alter fate, wh... how different were folken and hitomi's wishes lmao!!!!!!!!! or folken and van's, jesus!!!!!!!!!!

i'm sorry lol but i think of everything in the series this is going to be a big sticking point to me because it feels out of step with everything we've been shown prior, and therefore makes me go back and question how we got here. having seen the effect that the loss of his family had on van, it also feels needlessly cruel. just piling crushing loss on top of him. if it's to fulfill some kind of shonen trope, it's also weird to deploy that at the zero hour where all the seeming-tropes we've been teased with have been shattered.

and if i'm supposed to see the tropes as being part of fate, too, and that these themes are only as concrete as they remain unbroken, i guess i can accept that, but this also feels so emotionally dissatisfying. because that's suddenly turning the characters into symbols where at this point the series has taken great pains to make us understand them as complex people. folken in particular being portrayed repeatedly as gentle, kind, sincere, of all the characters notably consistent and comprehensible, very even, knows himself and others... it seems like an abrupt change of course, and not in terms of fate. it is a structural tonal shift, not a narrative one. he's sacrificing himself, yeah, i get the reasons given, but that does nothing for me if it seems like he's been sacrificed by the show Because Uhhhhh... Just Because?

i guess i shouldn't read so much into an area of the show that does feel curtailed and lends credence to the idea that the show was meant to be longer. but i think in the time they had the explanation and result could've been different while still tying up loose ends and making the same points. aside from not making much sense to me within the system of fate and the framing and structure feeling, for once where folken's concerned, emotionally inconsistent (i know he wants to kill dornkirk and atone for his own role in the scheme, but he Has also been given a third shot at life after really aching to be with van.) i wouldn't mind his death— it would be sad but not disappointing— if the circumstances were different, even just in his rship with dornkirk, or if it took place somewhere else, or van was present, or possibly even if only the animation itself were different. there's very little (or no) things about the series that i have to mentally work to fix. but regardless of the fate shit and conflicting motivations or whatever, knowing hitomi leaves, and even knowing that their united feelings make things more peaceful, i don't think punishing van with further sadness/loneliness was the right thing to do. like it feels arbitrary, which takes me out.

not that this could've been planned at the time but, if he'd lived, it'd make the film an even more exciting alternate telling imo, to show how easily things could've been different with a different propulsive moment. that would help portray the infinite potentialities of fate— its inherent malleability, but also showing how tragically easy it is to stay on course if uninterrupted— in motion, even by "only" showing "2" of them.

[stillness-in-green]

MVA In Memoriam (2/5)

The Comprehensive Account of the Butchering of My Villain Academia

(Introduction and Part One, Episode 108: My Villain Academia)

Part Two, Episode 109: Revival Party

Chapter 224 – Revival Party

• Mr. Compress’s side comment about how the distance Re-Destro wants them to travel means he must know they have warp capabilities. Also shortens his subsequent line, removing the bit about how their position has been locked onto, leaving only the marveling about the dude on the phone being the kind of person who has access to a satellite camera. Not a major cut, but it did strip out a bit of reiteration on how very Seen the League is. The warp line is another nod to how the MLA’s been doing their research—in particular, it ties in nicely with RD’s observations about the Noumu. He talks, there, about something Dabi said after the High End fight, which means he must also know that Dabi was warped out by an “Ujiko-san.”

• Also Mr. C’s observation that they haven’t broken Machia yet, and his posed question about what to do. Mr. Compress, I’m so sorry that you’re so wordy and lose so many quips and asides because the anime was set on brutally scything out every line of non-essential dialogue it could find.

• Ujiko’s extremely hilarious, “Listening to Villain Radio is my new favorite hobby,” line. Why would you cut this; this line is hysterical.

• The bit where Mr. Compress has the bright idea to use a High End Noumu like the one Dabi used, Ujiko rejects the suggestion out of hand, citing production woes, and Shigaraki says that he wasn’t going to ask for one of them anyway. Aside from being more cut Compress content (or “Comptent,” for short), it helps center the timeline somewhat at a point where the manga is jerking it around all over; it also shows that the League has been keeping up with news from the outside world. It also shows that at least one of them thought about using the Noumu—and since we know Re-Destro did some rationalizing on that scenario too, it’s good to see that it is at least briefly on the table.           Further, Ujiko provides a few rare details about the Noumu creation process. Firstly, that AFO is normally involved, so his absence makes the procedure much more difficult (though not, apparently, impossible). Secondly, that Hood-chan was the only Noumu who’d actually reached the testing stage. This will be important later, for Ujiko’s agonizing about unleashing them early/Mirko having to fight four of them at once.           Also, I just miss Mr. C’s funny little head wilt when Ujiko immediately turns down his “use some Noumu” idea. Ditto Shigaraki’s blasé shrug and little grin. Again, not to harp on the art too much, but man I wish the anime had kept all the fierce little grins and tight, incensed smirks Shigaraki has through the majority of this and the phone call sequence.

• Spinner’s line, “Without knowing squat about what we’re up against?!” A minor cut, as these things go, but it reiterates that there’s a chance RD is bluffing and the League has no way to know one way or the other, and demonstrates that the League can give Shigaraki some pushback on his decisions without having to worry about getting dusted for the temerity.[1]

• Takes one of Spinner’s lines—“Wait. I get it. Wherever you go, Shigaraki, he’ll sniff you out and hunt you down.”—and gives it to Shigaraki instead. Because fuck Spinner’s growing understanding of Shigaraki and the way his mind works, I guess! It’s especially notable that Spinner figures this out when Mr. C had completely the wrong idea about Shigaraki’s intentions—it demonstrates the way Spinner is gradually aligning himself with Shigaraki’s way of thinking, which we’ll see even more clearly during the War Arc. Also, again, it’s good to see the moments where the League weighs in on Shigaraki’s plans.

• The visual of Twice lashing out at Dabi with his razor-edged tape measure over Dabi’s dismissal of Giran, though all the relevant dialogue was there. Possibly this is because, having cut the CRC bit, the audience has no way of knowing that Twice’s tape measure is razor-edged, so why bother raising the question, “Why is Twice trying to attack Dabi with a tape measure..?” Possibly it’s because showing that attack would require animating movement, and MAN ALIVE, did Episode 109 ever want to do everything it could to avoid animating movement.

• Slidin’ Go’s line about how Deika isn’t usually his turf, but today is a big exception. This makes the hearty affirmative with which Trumpet announces himself a response to Shigaraki’s half-phrased observation about the reason behind the city’s emptiness, rather than a response to Slidin’ Go. It works, more or less, and probably even flows more clearly, all things considered. I’m always sad to lose lines from the vanishingly few named/characterized MLA members we have, though. I like, too, that it hints at the machinations that have to have been involved with setting things up for the Revival Party, and the way those plans were carried out with confidence that Re-Destro’s “bait the League into coming for their broker” plan would work despite the total absence of a response from the League in any of the time Giran was missing/his fingers were cropping up on the nightly news reports.

• A few shots of cameras in the city, which foreshadow Skeptic’s watchful eyes and ability to track the League through the city. In retrospect, this isn’t surprising, since the anime went on to cut basically any indication of Skeptic’s entire plan re: the footage of the League attacking, so why bother keeping the cameras? (Oh, right. Skeptic’s whole thing is cameras and information/disinformation. Skeptic for second-most screwed-by-the-anime MLA member.)

Additions

• Showed Toga having stood back up somewhere during Shigaraki’s explanation of their throw-Machia-against-the-MLA plan. A simply appalling choice. In the manga, she stays crouched down by Twice the entire time Shigaraki has his mask pulled off, because Toga cares about reassuring Jin-kun when he’s in a bad way.

• Rephrased Compress’s dialogue somewhat, also giving him a new line about the MLA’s forces in Deika when the League was still in the hills looking down at the city: “The so-called Meta Liberation Army has a force of 110,000 here.” I assume it was because the scene falls in a different episode than the tactical discussion did (in the manga, they’re the same chapter), so the anime was reminding the viewer of the stakes, but it’s potentially awkward because, er, no, the MLA categorically did not bring their entire army to Deika. We’ll find out as much for sure later, with the note that the regiment advisors weren’t in attendance because they were occupied at the bases they command, but even with only the knowledge we have here, Re-Destro’s statement about his numbers is that they’re scattered all over the country—hence the shot of Japan with a bunch of lights scattered across it to represent said numbers.           That said, to be (briefly) charitable, there’s no particular reason for the League to assume that, and they did discuss the possibility that there were going to have to fight 110,000 people. So it makes sense that Mr. C might state as much when recapping for the audience.

Chapter 225 – Interview with a Vampire

• Re-Destro talking about Deika’s geography and why they chose it strategically. The anime dropped so much about the MLA’s planning and information-gathering beforehand; it really made the MLA look ludicrously overconfident. And while they don’t lack for that trait, certainly,[2] this is also an organization that has meticulously grown its membership for generations right under Hero Society’s collective nose; you don’t get to where they are by being unduly foolhardy. Erasing so many scenes demonstrating their caution and forward-planning undercuts the threat they represent to both the League and society at large.           Also too, the descriptor of Deika as a nice, quiet, isolated little town in the mountains gives us some hints about how the MLA has avoided notice for so long, when you consider how the Hero business works: because so many people who get into heroism want to make it big, like celebrities, they don’t want to stick around small-town beats, and so the rural areas are understaffed.[3] That’s presumably why groups like the CRC and the MLA grow their numbers out in the boonies: much less attention from the Powers That Be. You can guess at some of that from how Spinner describes the place—“not too small, not too big”—and what Trumpet says about the percentage of the population that’s MLA, but RD adds that key “isolated” descriptor, and says that it’s a place where they “lay low.” That gives us some potential insight into how many—likely the majority—of the MLA came to their beliefs: by being raised to them, because their hometown was infiltrated by the MLA generations ago and they have literally never known anything else.

• RD’s phrasing, “Counter to point one,” when he makes his second point about the Noumu. He acknowledges that it’s counter-intuitive to his first argument, that he knows it would normally be an argument against that opening point, not in support. It’s just conversational padding, really, but “conversational padding” like that does a lot to distinguish character voice, so that not everyone talks the same way.

• A panel showing a trio of unnamed MLA warriors strategizing about how to divide their forces now that the League has split up. It’s the little cuts like this that gradually remove the agency of unnamed characters, such that they’re left looking like unthinking puppets instead of real people with the ability to register and respond to their circumstances. It also points towards the truth of what the MLA warriors are and one reason they’re so dangerous (for all that the manga itself will neglect this most egregiously later on): they’re trained in regiment tactics and accustomed to working in groups. This contrasts them both with villains, who might group together, but certainly don’t usually fight that way, and heroes, who are so unaccustomed to working in groups that it’s cited as part of the reason to have named super moves.

• Curious’s little pageboy-cut middle school kid line telling Toga to back off when Miss Curious is on the job. This is an early example of how defensive the MLA are of people above them in the hierarchy, an important thing Spinner will pick up on and attempt to use against Trumpet. Again, it’s little moments like this that both add some welcome notes of individuality to the MLA warriors (if only by virtue of Horikoshi and his assistants’ traditional talent for distinctive character design) while also fleshing out who the MLA are as a group, and contrasting them with the League.

• Deleted Toga’s line IDing her “on-the-go suck-suck mask,” but did insert a nice little bit of her expression shifting when she whipped it out. It lost a bit of the self-conscious silliness of her support item name in exchange for a cool little animation beat. I don’t dislike it, particularly, but I am, as previously stated, very leery of edits that make the League more polished in their villainy at the cost of their human foibles.

• Curious’s line about having come prepared to counter Toga’s moves, which was supposed to further reiterate that the MLA has done their research on the League; they didn’t just decide out of the blue to target the most notorious Villains in the country without studying up on them first and planning accordingly!

• Curious’s line about how she’s going to get started with some background info while her people use their meta-abilities to keep Toga and her buddies on the ropes. A marvelously characterful line! It speaks especially to that edge of formality the MLA brass observe that even as she’s ringleading this attack, Miss Curious is still set on going through her interview process step by established step.

Framing Shifts

• Made some of Curious’s lines spoken dialogue instead of internal monologue. That’s probably fine for when she’s waxing enthusiastic about Toga’s lack of hesitation in committing murder or how she’ll use Toga’s story to further the MLA’s agenda. It’s less fine when she’s rattling out the entire name, brand and patent status of her support item for no particular reason when Toga is already halfway through trying to knife her (that’ll be next chapter).

• The anime implied pretty firmly that Curious’s bombers died. And like, yeah, that’s always made more sense than the idea that anyone could survive something like that, but I hate it anyway. For one thing, it makes it even harder to credit the idea that Toga’s still on her feet afterward if Curious’s supposedly not-very-lethal explosions merk all her own people. People in this series survive ludicrous amounts of damage, and these random MLA devotees are no exception! For another, it leans into the narrative that the MLA higher-ups throw away the lives of their minions without the slightest care. It’s a lot harder to make that case when it’s explicit in the manga that Curious’s people survive the blood explosions—the blonde in the tracksuit is unharmed enough to snicker about it, and the noodle chef is even doing well enough to continue attacking! I’ve always been of the opinion that the MLA are, yes, willing to spend the lives of their underlings on attaining goals, if that’s what they think is necessary, but that is not at all the same as gleefully throwing them onto the pyre to watch them burn.

Additions

• Some individual shots of Mr. Compress, Dabi and Twice fending off or fleeing from various MLA types. A nice try on getting the group split up, but it feels kind of budget save-y, when we could have gotten actual animation of those fights instead.

• Inserted a quick shot of a headline about Toga’s first attack as Curious was rambling on about why she’s interested in Toga but not the League in general. Actually a fairly reasonable insertion, given how much text is crammed into her talk bubble in the manga while the dude standing next to her is already getting a knife in the neck.

Chapter 226 – Bloody Love

• A panel of interviewees talking about Toga’s first victim being sociable and popular. It gives a bit of context on what he was like, what people thought of him, but given that we know enough about Toga at this point to know that his popularity was entirely incidental to what she liked about him, it’s not a huge loss.

• The detail of the broadcasted interviews censoring Toga’s name. Considering how Japanese media normally treats minors accused of crimes, this is an eyebrow-raising change—the manga censors it because Japanese media outlets would have done the same. No idea why the anime didn’t, unless it’s another of those places where it would feel too “real,” to have something that so closely mirrors real life treatment of criminals?

• Everything about quirk counseling, and whoo boy, that is a loaded cut. There is exactly one other mention of quirk counseling anywhere in the manga, and, curiously enough, it also comes up in relation to a villain: in the U.A. faculty meeting after the USJ attack, Midnight muses that maybe Shigaraki never received quirk counseling in elementary school. It’s a weird little non sequitur there—exactly what sort of program did she expect could single-handedly make the difference between a well-adjusted adult and a gleefully murderous manchild with aims on killing Japan’s Number 1 Hero? Just over two hundred chapters later, we get a hint: a program designed to fit people “neatly into society’s little boxes.”           Quirk counseling, then, is not about helping children find healthy ways to process their quirks, but rather, about teaching children what is and is not acceptable in terms of quirk use—and as Curious says, Toga’s admiration of blood was never going to be acceptable.[4] This explanation doesn’t just tell us a lot about Toga—that she wasn’t only failed by the hysterical condemnation of her parents, but also by a society that had no interest in helping her if it didn’t see a use for her—but also provides some insight on the viewpoint of the Meta Liberation Army vis-à-vis mandatory state-funded programs that dictate what “normalcy” looks like to impressionable children.           Curious is, of course, not a particularly trustworthy narrator in this, as one might expect of someone who uses language like “society’s little boxes,” but it does track with Midnight’s earlier musing of, “Maybe the anti-social dude never took the program intended to make sure he was a functioning member of society.” That kind of statement—“State-sponsored educational programs are there to program children into becoming unthinking cogs of society, actually.”—is one that it’s all too easy to imagine the people with an eye on broadcast standards taking issue with, even coming as it does from the mouth of a villain.

• Curious’s line, “Let’s turn your death into a legendary tragedy, shall we?” and its accompanying visual of two different papers with imagined headlines. The dialogue doesn’t strike me as crucial—Curious’s fervent belief in Toga’s story is amply demonstrated elsewhere and her intent to turn that story into a legend reiterated in the line immediately following—but it is a shame to lose the headlines. They tell us, in Curious’s own words, exactly the tack she was planning to take in telling Toga’s story to the general public, without the constant namedropping of the Liberation Army that she does when talking about it in person. One headline in particular—The Price of Suppression: A String of Bloody Murders—is an especially useful reference for discussing whether the MLA actually wants, as is popularly claimed, completely unhindered quirk use, even for people like e.g. Muscular who want nothing more than to murder people with their quirks.[5]

• Curious’s initial wait what response to getting Floated, and her people’s focus shifting away from Toga and onto Curious instead. On a surface level, that focus shift helps explain why Toga’s able to zip around the ground and touch nearly twenty people before they even react: because they’re afraid for Curious. It also hurts the ongoing characterization of the MLA rank and file as being fanatically devoted to their higher-ups which, again, is something Spinner is supposed to notice later. It’s the worst kind of plot device if that devotion is completely told to us rather than consistently shown!

• Toga’s internal reflection that she’s seen Ochaco use her quirk, and knows how to use it. It’s obvious from the panel that she knows how to use it, but the manga implies that Toga transforming doesn’t automatically grant her an understanding of peoples’ quirks; it’s only in observation (and possibly love) that she can reach this particular unlock. Leaving out that information leaves open the possibility that she can just do this all the time now, with anybody she transforms into.

• The reaction from the surviving crowd to Curious’s death. See above re: STOP FUCKING ERASING HOW MUCH THE MLA CARES FOR EACH OTHER.

Framing Shifts

• When Toga bolts, Curious in the anime sounded serious, her expression alarmed, like she was actually worried that Toga might escape, even though her dialogue said just the opposite. Maybe you could say that she was afraid Toga would die before she got her statement, but given that she tried to kill the girl herself moments later, I’m skeptical of that claim. Regardless, in the manga, she never loses her smile, and she flashes a Liberation salute as she stands up to give chase. It’s a characterization note, that she’s so wildly confident about this that she never stops being completely enthralled with whatever Toga has to show her.

Chapter 227 – Sleepy

• The last of Toga’s conscious dialogue, about how she’s lost a lot of blood, is fading out, can’t move—but more notably, the way that this state of things makes her feel closer to “them,” that it’s “the same sensation.” And who is “they” here—her victims? The people she loves? More alarmingly, why does the line sound like she’s been this beat-up before, and remembers the sensation? Does that tie into e.g. her comment during the training camp that she doesn’t want to fight too many hero students at once because she doesn’t want to die? Has she actually been subject to this kind of violence before in the past? Does that tie into her still-unexplained ability to erase her presence? It’s an interestingly loaded little line, for being so vague, and illustrative of Toga’s mentality on becoming the people she loves. Which also lets the scene segue nicely into Re-Destro’s observation that, in Toga Himiko’s world, there’s no such thing as “other people.”           On which note, guess what else the anime cut?

• The entire fucking scene where Re-Destro actually reacts to Curious’ death, the motherfuckers. This lost:           1. RD’s talk about the way Toga sees the world and how that led to society casting her out, which he points to as evidence of said society clinging to old ideals even though the nature of humanity itself has changed. It calls back to his methodology with Detnerat, marrying his lines from the commercial to his overarching ideals; it also shows that he understood very well what Curious saw in Toga, and demonstrates that he can express that understanding and empathy even in the face of losing one of his closest allies.           2. Skeptic’s reaction to Curious’s death, which is pretty sparse, but at least present. He says she never should have been on the front lines—an excellent reminder to the people who’re always going on about how the MLA brass thinks themselves so above their followers: Curious was on the front lines, against the wishes of some of her peers!—and calls her a valuable resource.[6] You can theorize about Skeptic not caring for her beyond her usefulness to the cause, or just that Skeptic is a huge autist who processes his emotions differently than most, and isn’t going to stop to do that when there’s still a battle going on, but either way, you need this scene to do it accurately.           3. Speaking of people who process their emotions in unusual ways, as I said above, this scene also shows Re-Destro openly crying over the deaths of Curious and each and every warrior diving into battle with their hopes for the future. They’re not crocodile tears, either. As was the case with Miyashita, there’s no one in this room that Re-Destro would need to perform grief for: Skeptic clearly doesn’t see a use for tears right now, so I don’t see him expecting them from Re-Destro, and the only other person in the room is Giran, a hostage who the MLA—very probably Re-Destro himself—maimed! It’s not like RD’s tears are going to change Giran’s mind about him (indeed, Giran gets a comedic reaction beat at the absurdity of the dude who started all this up here crying about it)! But RD says life is precious and he cries anyway, briefly, before he ruthlessly turns it off.           RD’s valuing of human life—especially his own peoples’ lives—crops up in roundabout ways twice more, both leading the fight with Shigaraki (“It angers me.”) and ending it (“Any more would bring about meaningless death.”). This, though, is when he’s most open about it, to the degree that—as with Machia’s grief—it’s kind of off-putting and strange. Cutting it makes it that much easier for people to get entirely the wrong impression of RD as a character.           4. The delightful scene where Skeptic berates Giran about asking brainless questions and then answers his question anyway. Fuckin’ hell, why cut this?? So much of Skeptic’s character is in this scene! You get moments of his neuroticism later on, but never in so concentrated a burst as this (there’s one other sequence that could compete, but—spoilers—the anime cut that one, too). The exchange also explains the cameras placed throughout the city—which are visually referenced early on—and what the MLA is planning to do with their footage. Without that explanation, the audience has no idea how, exactly, the MLA was planning to use wiping out the League as a springboard for their grand return to the spotlight. That footage is the crucial part of how the rest of the country reacts to Deika in the Endeavor Agency Arc, and the anime never even mentioned it! The audience was just left to assume that all the media came in afterward, not that there was the slightest whiff of footage from the battle itself.           5. Once again brings up Re-Destro’s belief in the power of the heart to move other hearts. We get a bit of that in Curious’s flashback, but here he says it in his own words—as he will also bring it up to Shigaraki. Once again, Shigaraki is going to be challenged about his conviction, which ties back into what Spinner and Ujiko demanded from him earlier in the arc. With so

many people set to be grilling Shigaraki on this front, it tells us again what the arc is for: Shigaraki’s conviction, and him demonstrating it to the people who think he lacks it.

• The panel of Spinner asking how long they’ve been at it and Mr. Compress responding. This line helps manage the pacing, giving the audience an idea how much time is passing as we cut around to different places. It’s also, you know, more cut Spinner dialogue, and shows the beginnings of Shigaraki and Spinner getting split off from the rest by Shigaraki’s sleep-drunk staggering angling him off in a different direction. The rest of the scene is moved to after Toga’s fight with Curious, but not otherwise tampered with.

• The other big reaction to Curious’s death, which is Trumpet using it to rile up the crowd. The group that attacks Shigaraki isn’t just some free-roaming mob—they’re coming at him in a grief-stricken frenzy, which they’ve been goaded into by one of their leaders.           This sequence also introduces the campaign van—a vehicle that will have several more appearances—to events, and hints at Trumpet’s meta-ability. Further, it’s one of the scenes that outright states that the MLA is less an army than a religion, in Mr. Compress’s line about how Trumpet is like a preacher rallying his flock. That understanding—that the MLA may style themselves as an army, but what they really are is a cult—is key to the way the MLA members act, from the very bottom to the very top.

• Trimmed Shigaraki’s flashback down, cutting—among other things—the very first lines Hana speaks, and her namedrop. This moment is the first one Tomura gets back, and the very first thing we find out is that he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. The anime also failed to identify Shimura Nana’s relation to Tenko/Tomura and Hana—helpful to remind the audience of a plot thread they haven’t heard about since Kamino. It also cut out the silhouette of chubby baby Tenko and Tenko’s first line, asking why Hana’s showing him this, a line which clues us in that Hana was the impetus here, not Shigaraki as he was back then. Still not satisfied, it also cut the phrase, “Daddy said all that stuff,” which is a clear and ominous warning that there was some conflict going on between young Shigaraki and the Father whose dismembered hand he now wears on his face.

• Left the dialogue but cut the silhouette of an airborne Geten with his enormous ice fists coming in hot behind Dabi when he was smarming about it not being his style to take the pacifist route. It’s not crucial, since we see the fists again shortly (it’s the end of the chapter page, whereas the anime rolls right on into the continuation of the scene), but it’s a shame, since framing Dabi from below with this sudden presence behind him is a much more fun, dynamic angle than the dead-boring medium shot the anime used. Also too, it’s good foreshadowing for the fact that Geten can fly, since he certainly didn’t get that kind of air by jumping off the roof of the mini-mart across the street.

Framing Shifts

• The crowd attacking Tomura came at him from the back of the shot, whereas in the manga, they’re surging forth from the front; that is, the anime had Shigaraki between the crowd and the POV of the viewer, whereas the manga has the crowd interposing between the viewer and Shigaraki. It makes a huge difference in the impact! Running up from a nebulous background distance, the crowd looked small and futile. Crossing directly in front of the viewer as they attack Shigaraki makes them look like the crashing human wave that they are. But, you know, coming in from the front would mean they’d have to be animated with more detail, and again, Episode 109, more than any other episode in the arc, clearly didn’t have the budget to spare on such things.

• The moment Shigaraki first uses the spreading Decay is horrifically clear in the manga. It’s full of speed lines, Shigaraki moving so fast he decays a dude mid-word, but the impact itself is spread over two pages. We watch his hand literally cleaving through the leading attacker’s face, and then are encouraged to linger on the oversized panel below, the intricately drawn crowd, full of individual faces, still intact on the left, scattering to dust on the right, all fully lit, with Shigaraki—still drawn with speedlines to emphasize his movement—the focal figure in black at the center.           The anime rendered this moment in two stills—Shigaraki’s hand about to hit the lead attacker’s face, and then the crowd already decaying. There was virtually no movement to it, the crowd was so heavily silhouetted against a glare of daylight that it was difficult to tell what was going on, and the moment stayed on screen for only two seconds before Shigaraki landed and threw up, both actions favored with more animation than one of the signature moments of the entire arc. Hell, it even left the walls on either side of the alley intact, when the manga shows them dissolving into ash as well, decay traveling through the ground in a deadly, destructive radius around Shigaraki’s attack.           The anime ever-so-graciously allowed Spinner his line to explain to the audience what just happened, but I think that’s mostly because it would be genuinely difficult to parse if he didn’t. It also gave him a flashback to what we had literally just seen, except this time it wasn’t silhouetted for some reason, so at least the audience got another chance to look at it, I guess?           “Am I seeing things? Just now, his decay effect spread to people he wasn’t even touching!” Well, I guess we’ll have to take your word for it, Spinner.

Additions

• A quick shot of a camera, there and gone almost too fast to register. I want to compliment the anime for adding a camera back in, since it removed the shot of the cameras earlier, but honestly, given that it cut all the scenes about how and why the MLA was gathering footage, I really don’t know why it even bothered. Also too, the camera was gone so fast it felt more like a marker for a scene change—which it also was, segueing the scene from Toga collapsing (only to cut back to her later staggering down an alley) to Spinner and the rest still trying to hold their own—than it did something the audience was supposed to really notice.

Chapter 228 – Wounded Soul

• Twice in the opening pages left out scattered members of the MLA that were around for the start of the Dabi/Geten fight. Leaving them out raises the question of where all the people attacking went, but it’s also the first demonstration that Geten is a danger to his own allies. We don’t see any of them dying on-panel or anything, but we do see them having to dive frantically out of the way because Geten demonstrates no care to the collateral damage of his attacks.

• Cut a small flashback, presumably from Twice’s perspective, of finding the site where Toga and Curious’s fight concluded. You can see the ground covered in blood, and a body that looks a bit like Curious if you squint (distinguishable by the sleeves of her jacket), as well as a small group of people kneeling on the ground in various poses suggesting mourning and a paying of respects. Yet another shot demonstrating the depths of care these people have for their leaders, that they’ve completely let the battle fall by the wayside in favor of their grief.

• Drops the “those zealots” phrase from Twice’s, “I’ll rip those zealots limb from limb for this!” line. Damn, the anime really was determined to erase everything that even hints at the Liberation Army being something much creepier and more damaging than just an underground militia, huh?

Framing Shifts

• For all my complaints about the material, I generally like the voice acting quite a bit. I don’t love the first exchange between Dabi and Geten, though. It’s not a fault of the voice actors themselves, but rather the delivery. Geten was very cool and level-headed throughout, which is all right to a point, but he’s a gremlin under that troll parka, and this fight is where we hear him as close as we ever will to how he is before the multi-layered humbling he’s subject to over the course of this fight. It’s a bit of a shame to play him totally straight, without any of the snark he’s so clearly capable of—and without the tick upwards in vehemence his talk bubbles indicate in his last lines.           Meanwhile, it’s fine for Dabi to get more heated as the scene goes along, and indeed he does, but he also plays it pretty cool at first. You can tell in the shape of his talk bubbles that he’s completely unruffled during his delivery of that, “Consider this a freebie, just for you: ice melts,” line. The anime had him raising his voice for it, and it just loses a lot of the humor of Dabi’s own snark to have him yelling it instead of just laughingly stating it, voice barely raising enough to give his talk bubbles some straighter lines instead of being all undisturbed curves. (For comparison’s sake, it’s about the same level of angular as Geten’s, “You’d best not think your little campfire can melt my ice!” line, but the anime had Dabi shout his line, while Geten continued at the same unperturbed volume he’d maintained since the beginning.)

• As with Shigaraki’s first mass decay, the shot of Geten’s ice dragon did not make the impact on me in the anime that the manga did. I think it’s mostly the way the ice was colored? The claw’s pretty good, but the head looks blobby and indistinct, more like blue soft-serve than the shifting, sharp-edged, brilliantly bright sculpture-in-motion of the manga.

• Twice’s voice actor did his best to sell the scene of him finding Toga, but I wish they’d kept that tight close-up on his mouth when he says, “Give it up. The girl’s dead.” They animated him leaning closer to the camera, but that doesn’t have the sharpness of that sudden cut to being right there on his lips, like some malevolent thing is using them to speak words so terrible that they can’t even be associated with the rest of his face.

                                                          ---

Come back next time (and hopefully in less time) for Part Three, Episode 110: Sad Man's Parade.

FOOTNOTES

[1] We would, of course, have an even clearer idea of that had the anime not cut the scene of Spinner shouting in Shigaraki’s face.

[2] It seems particularly strange to me that Curious and RD both mention quirk evolution as a thing they know can happen in extreme circumstances, but didn’t predict that backing the League into a life-or-death corner might provoke one or two members to undergo exactly that evolution.

[3] Mount Lady is the obvious example, but you can look to places like the island in Heroes Rising, too: one hero, and when they retired, a group of high school kids had to go sub in for a while until a replacement could be arranged. It’s not like retirements just happen overnight; the Commission had to have known it was coming. Still, they had to scramble to find someone. It doesn’t suggest they had anybody just champing at the bit to take the post, you know?

[4] In Chapter 140, we see a young Tamaki Amajiki in a class called “quirk training.” It’s uncertain how connected this P.E.-like class is to quirk counseling, but Toga wouldn’t have been getting much help there, either, seeing as it’s all about figuring out how to use one’s quirk in a way that’s “useful to society.” I can think of some ways, but nothing that I expect would be very popular or liable to be explained to a grade schooler in a country with as long a history with ritual cleanliness as Japan. To a Shinto mindset, Transformation isn’t just off-putting or unhygienic; it’s spiritually unclean.

[5] The answer there being, no, obviously not, or Curious wouldn’t, in all apparent sincerity, be trying to characterize Toga using her quirk to murder people as an undesirable outcome, a cost society is paying for its current stance on quirk use. Yes, you can gather that much from her calling Toga a tragic girl, and Re-Destro concurring later, but listen, I will take every line I can get that I can use to push back against the wretchedly widespread idea that the kid whose name means Apocrypha is the be-all-end-all source on MLA ideology, somehow more reliable and trustworthy than every other MLA character combined, including Destro himself. I would very much like it if the anime had not deleted a bunch of my talking points while making good and sure to leave all Geten’s most damning lines intact.

[6] Not that an anime-only person would fully understand why some random reporter was all that valuable a resource, since the anime cut the explanation of what Curious actually does for a living.

[projectjasper]

I saw the ask about a possible forced separation (& a reunion after a few years) and here's why I don't think it makes sense: We already had all the parents' secrets come spilling out with Pran's mom even saying "Don't make your kids hate the people next door," which indicates to me that she doesn't want to do that anymore and they're headed towards the end of the family feud (I mean, I don't think Pran's mom will ever forgive Pat's dad and I don't think they'll ever be friendly, but rather that they'll be civil and at the very least won't want to pull their kids into their feud anymore) so I don't think forcing Pat and Pran apart (by sending one or both of them away) would serve a purpose in the story anymore.

But in the event that I'm wrong and they do pull something like this... I will hate it with my whole being. I already wasn't too fond of the separation in atots (because I don't like separatiins close to the end in general) but if it happened in bad buddy I'd be 100x more upset and disappointed. Pat and Pran have already been forcefully separated in high school, so doing it again would just be fucking cruel, imo. You took away part of their teen years that they could spend together, and now you're going to do the same to their 20s (except it's even worse now because they're in a relationship)?? Fuck you. They've been through so much already, just let them live, damn it. Their entire story was about how they shouldn't be together because everyone's forcing them apart, so their ending should be them prevailing against that, not being apart AGAIN. One might say "well, they still end up together in the end," but fuck that. You know what's one thing you can never get back? Lost time. They already lost years in high school, do NOT make them lose years during university as well. That's why seeing them reunite would just make me fucking sad instead of happy. 😑

So if my assumption that a separation WON'T happen is wrong... I'll throw my laptop out the window because at that point I may as well stop watching and just suffer in silence. 🙃

i completely agree with you in terms of the story!! with what we have today, a break up or a separation makes ZERO sense and would also be such an unsatisfying last arc to their relationship (as we see it). but i am very lost with this whole thing because - as i've said before - they'd have to subvert a very common narrative construction in order for this not to happen.

and the reason i am lost is that i don't know which one makes less sense!

on the one hand, we have p'aof's past works and the screenwriters' past works. the screenwriters' most notable works are 2gether and theory of love - the former was so scared of subverting the construction, it actually fucked up its last two episodes entirely, and the latter is basically only done with the angst in the 4/4th part of the finale. as for p'aof's works, atots is very similar to tol, and hctm literally resolves things in the last 5 minutes of the entire series (i am NOT exaggerating). the only series that i am fucking holding onto like rose to the door is dark blue kiss, as the worst of the worst is basically resolved at the end of the penultimate episode (beginning of the finale, if you want to be petty), and the entire finale is just shenanigans. but here i am also thinking about how p'aof was actually the screenwriter of dbk, while even though he makes a lot of decisions as the director of bbs, he is not directly involved with scriptwriting.

but putting all their past aside, on the other hand, i think bad buddy is just too good to fuck things up just to follow the formula. honestly, the only thing we can potentially fault it for is perhaps some writing decisions in connection to the narrative lack of accountability for some characters (though frankly, with the way bad buddy is constructed, i think it's not completely non-sensical, i can see why it is so), but regardless of what you think about that, they haven't made a single mistake in terms of the emotions, the angsty bits, the drama - it's all been perfect. it feels almost blasphemous to suppose that they would do this "just because that's how it's always done". they are better than that. or at the very least, they have been better than that this entire time.

[milktoast-mcgee]

the boys and their royal arms

I’ve rambled about this a little bit before on twitter, but I decided to finally sit down and get these thoughts out about noct, his boys, and the royal arms they use!

tldr, the royal arms prompto, gladio, and ignis use during the armiger chain (in addition to the talismans they can get and the boons the kings’ sigils represent in comrades) illustrate key aspects of their characters. 

Introduction

Throughout Final Fantasy XV, Noctis and his retinue search for the Royal Arms, the weapons of the Kings of Yore. They're representative of Noct's birthright and his destiny as the True King. He and his companions, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis, search for the weapons all over the world. As he adds them to his Armiger, not only does Noctis use the Royal Arms, but the boys wield them as well -- notably, in the Armiger Chain combination attack. Accumulating more of the glaives makes the chain last longer, and all four boys use every weapon in the collection together.

Beyond the battle mechanic, the Royal Arms each of them use carry a strong thematic element. Each glaive illustrates something about each young man -- their characters, their strengths, their weaknesses, their character arcs. This idea extends beyond just the Arms to the Kings themselves, present in their sigils in the Comrades expansion as well as the unique equippable talismans each boy receives.* These themes perfectly illustrate just how connected Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis are to Noctis -- they are fundamentally linked, inexorably bound together.

* (These are only present in the Royal Pack/Royal Edition. They are found in Insomnia in Chapter 14, either after completing all the Kingsglaive quests for Cor. I think. I don't remember... shhsdugif)

Prompto

"My whole life, all I ever wanted was friends... but no one ever wanted me back. So when I finally found people who did want me, I did everything I could to make them stay. And ever since then, I've lived my life in fear -- that one day, they'd find out who I really was, and they wouldn't want me anymore."

Prompto struggles greatly with self-doubt and rejection. He knows he's an outsider and feels that outsiderness to his core, even as a child. But in the face of that, he strives to play the mood maker -- he tries to hold the party together, keep the air light, and make people happy. He attempts to remain outgoing and cheerful, even when he's not, or nobody else is. Noctis and the others love him dearly, regardless of his origins, because he is who he is -- sweet, caring, talented, heartful, thoughtful Prompto. While he at once represents rejection and outsiderness, he also stands for unity and togetherness, and these elements are present in his connection to the Kings.

Prompto receives the talisman of the Clever. The talismans accentuate the boy's unique abilities, and Prompto's grants him increased critical hit rate and unlimited ammo for the SMG. Prompto's gunplay is incredible -- acrobatic, precise, and powerful. It's a far cry from how Prompto tends to feel about himself; he is skilled and capable, even if he doesn't believe he is. The Clever is the perfect mantle for him to carry to represent this.

Though Prompto doesn't use the Bow of the Clever in battle, the Clever fits him very well. The Clever is said to have been a king "versed in myriad arts both martial and intellectual." The Clever's weapon easily fits Prompto, but during the Armiger Chain, it's Noctis who uses it -- while Prompto wields the Sword of the Wise, which carries its own significance. 

Noct uses the Bow of the Clever, it fits Prompto as a weapon: it's the only glaive that's projectile, aside from the Star of the Rogue, which Prompto also uses. It fires spectral arrows to skewer foes all across the battlefield. In addition, in the Comrades expansion, the Clever's sigil allows the bearer to summon spectral arms at will. It replaces the use of spells to summon eight special armaments to wield at once. It's a form of battle very appropriate to Prompto, isn't it? 

The Clever is said to have been talented in many varied ways. The same could definitely be said of Prompto, whether he believes it or not. While a commoner, he keeps up with his royal companions in battle. When he knocks enemies off guard, he can deliver devastating blows to rival even magic. He can take photos in battle effortlessly -- something his companions love, except when Noct is being gnawed on by a daemon. But while Prompto sees himself as incapable, a burden to his team, he's well able to keep up with them, and strives to hold the group together. The mantle of the Clever fits him so well in this aspect.

But while Noct uses the Bow during the Chain, Prompto uses the Sword of the Wise. The Wise is the King who first erected the Wall and established the borders of the kingdom of Lucis. He was a notably mighty figure and protected the realm. His blade represents the foundation of the Kingdom, and Noct's birthright -- and while Noct uses the weapon that most fits Prompto, Prompto in turn uses the Sword of the Wise, a clear symbol of Noct's royal blood. He is more than capable and deserving to wield it, even briefly, despite how Prompto feels about himself.

Prompto also uses the Star of the Rogue. The Rogue was a figure reviled by the people. She "spurned the public eye and took to the shadows." It's a huge shuriken, and Prompto actually briefly wields it against the daemonified Rogue in the Citadel battle. The Rogue is a figure of royal power but rejection -- intensely shunned by the people, choosing to rule away from their eyes. She wears a mask in her armor; it doesn't appear to be a helmet or battle regalia, but rather a means of hiding her face, obscuring herself further. 

The queen is a figure of stealth and prowess, but will never quite belong to the public, to her people. Only when she is gone is she remembered fondly by history. Prompto definitely feels he doesn't belong, and likely that he never will. He's a lonely child from a lonely home. He knows he's from the enemy nation, branded by them. For years, he doesn't believe he deserves to be Noctis's friend, and pushes himself to be good enough to finally approach him. Even when he's assimilated into Noct's retinue, he feels he doesn't compare to the likes of them, and fears the day they all reject him... even though the idea is completely unthinkable to them.

This idea extends nicely to the third Royal Arm Prompto uses, the Scepter of the Pious. The Pious is described as a king who "ruled the realm according to divine law and worked hand in hand with the Oracle." It's a weapon that strikes with a blade of light. It enhances magic and is particularly strong against dark elements. The Scepter is a weapon to represent unity, togetherness. The King worked with the Oracle -- a nice parallel to Prompto's correspondence with Lunafreya, and how she gave him the courage to befriend Noctis -- to unite Lucis. It's a weapon that represents strength in teamwork, in united people, breaking down the walls that divide them to live as one.

Prompto's use of the Royal Arms illustrate his biggest fears and greatest strengths. He's an outsider, terrified of rejection. But he's a dedicated and loyal friend, devoted to helping them and keeping them happy. Despite the differences that could potentially drive them apart, Prompto is a vital part of Noct's retinue. Despite his wavering confidence, he is talented and incredibly skilled. He's unique and irreplaceable, and his closest friends know that. One day, Prompto will, too, and he and Noct can knock down the barriers between their people once and for all.

"I owe Noct everything, for standing by me always. And now... it’s my turn to stand by him.”

Gladio

"I swore a vow to do whatever it takes to protect you and the future of our world."

So, let's get this out of the way: Gladio suffers from a tragic lack of character development. While this can be another sad side effect of XV's troubled development **, we can attempt to spin it into something subtle and quiet, illustrating Gladio's softer side. His connection to the Royal Arms shows that not only does he want to be strong, he wants to protect those he cares about above all else. Gladio is ultimately very caring and deeply, truly loyal, even though he's as hard and heavy as blade steel sometimes.

** (Rumor has it, Clarus, Gladio's father, was going to betray the Crown, and Gladio would face deep inner conflict over it, having to choose between his father's ideals and Noctis's journey. Apparently the role was given instead to Drautos/Glauca in Kingsglaive, who has a much more prominent presence in the movie than Clarus. None of this is confirmed, though, and isn't present in any released canon materials... so who knows. It's worth mentioning because it speaks to maybe their taking out Gladio's planned character arc and forgetting to put anything back in its place...here’s the reddit post that compiles the theories pretty well, if you’re curious.)  

Gladio receives the Tall's talisman. When it's equipped, it accelerates the rate at which Gladio's valor gauge increases. His valor, in battle, best increases from uninterrupted combos and counterattacks, both appropriate given his nature as Shield, well-trained for battle but focused on defense. It's a simple boon that's incredibly valuable in battle, and battle is an inescapable aspect of Gladio's life. Along with the talisman, Gladio wields the Sword of the Tall. It's a broadsword, Gladio's preferred type of weapon. The Tall is said to have been "built like a mountain, towering over all others." It's a peculiar kind of sword with a chainsaw-like blade, which rips and tears mercilessly through enemies. For its incredible strength and vitality boost, it lowers elemental and magic defenses. This is matched by the Tall's sigil in the Comrades expansion, which greatly increases attack power at the cost of casting spells. The Tall's is a mantle of muscle, not mettle, but it's not the only King's presence Gladio carries.

Gladio also wields the Shield of the Just. His secondary preferred weapon is a shield, obviously focused on defense and counters. The Just is a queen of yore -- she and the Rogue are the only queens of Lucis present ingame. She is not given a name, but her armor has a massive silhouette, her presence immense. The Shield of the Just, as expected, offers Noctis huge defense. It greatly decreases attack to grant significant defenses, both physical and elemental. Its description describes the Just as a queen devoted to peace who was loved by all. Though her phantom visage is imposing, the Just is a strong, steadfast figure of peace, not violence. It's a strong contrast to the Sword of the Tall; if the Tall's is his blade, the Just's is his shield.

The Axe of the Conqueror is the third Royal Arm Gladio uses. While the Tall and the Just represent Gladio's strength and will to protect, the Conqueror represents willpower and moving forward. The Axe describes the Conqueror as a king who "performed great feats of arms, expanded his realm, and made his people prosper." This is all too appropriate for Gladio's role in Noctis's retinue, not just as his protector but his guide. When Noct can't move forward, Gladio pushes him. When he can't think, Gladio thinks for him. When things get difficult, Gladio helps Noctis grow and move on, whether he wants to or not. Gladio is a big brother, after all, and he wants only the best for those he cares about and wants them to succeed, just as the Conqueror did.

Gladio's use of the Royal Arms illustrates his boundless strength both in offense and defense. He carries a broadsword and shield and the needs of his companions. Gladio pushes forward. He is fiercely loyal and cares deeply for those around him, and pushes forward without hesitation, bringing those he must protect with him. Gladio wants to be strong, not only for the sake of power, but for the power to protect the ones he cares about. He cherishes the things he holds dear, and will protect them with all his being.

"You're right, I am afraid. ... Maybe I'm not really cut out for the job I'm expected to do. ... I may be all muscle and no mettle, but I'm gonna keep protecting Noct the only way I know how."

Ignis

"This world means nothing to me. Do with it as you wish. ... But I refuse to let Noct sacrifice his life to save ours. I won't let you take him away."

Ignis has served the Crown for nearly all his life. He's been Noct's companion the whole while -- his friend and brother, as designated by King Regis himself. Since he was a child, he's carried royal responsibility. He's composed, precise, and calculating, well-versed in all kinds of matters, political and not. He's a strategist, a royal advisor, and he keeps at Noct's side without hesitation. While he maintains a very cool, thoughtful demeanor, confronting problems with plans and logic, he has a relentless, reckless side. He is willing to resort to violence should the plan call for it, especially if the safety of Noctis and his companions is at stake. Ignis has a very smooth, calm surface with a deep, deep underlying intensity that rarely shows.

Ignis receives the Wanderer's talisman in the fallen Insomnia. When it's equipped, it boosts Ignis's Total Clarity gauge, heightening his senses and deepening his focus. In battle, Ignis uses strategic elemancy -- imbuing his daggers with fire, ice, and lightning -- and counterattacks. He doesn't utilize raw strength; instead, his battle prowess uses his strategic mind. Reaching Total Clarity allows him to unleash a particularly decisive blow. He is a fast, strategic, relentless attacker, perfectly carrying the mantle of the Wanderer. In addition, the Wanderer's sigil in Comrades carries an entirely supportive effect -- it casts Cheer on the party, heightening their abilities. It fits Ignis's penchant for strategy, supporting his comrades and planning instead of rushing into battle and relying on raw strength.

The Wanderer is said to have been "quick like the wind and went where no man had gone before." His swords "rain fury -- together they deliver thundering blows." The Swords of the Wanderer have three distinct forms, interlinked and not, to adjust to the needs of battle. The Wanderer was clearly a versatile, flexible fighter. He roamed the unknown and pressed on into strange territory without fear. "Wandering" implies a lack of a destination, focusing not on the end of the journey but shoving onward regardless.

It's too fitting that Regis tells a young Ignis something he will never forget: "One cannot lead by standing still. A King pushes onward always, accepting the consequences and never looking back."

When Ignis is blinded by his sacrifice and Noct disappears into the Crystal, the Wanderer mantle fits him even more. The light has disappeared from his world, both literally and metaphorically. He can no longer see -- greatly debilitating his extensive prowess -- and his life's purpose, being at Noctis's side, is left to the lurch. He investigates the royal tombs and the ruins of old civilizations to the best of his ability. He pushes on alone, not to prove anything to his friends but to himself. He refuses to burden anyone, even though the boys would never think that of him. He's left without a destination, without purpose, but pushes onward, always. He finds the ability to fight again, delves deep into the history of Eos, and holds onto the hope that one day Noctis will return. And, soon enough, he does, only for the prophecy to snatch him away once and for all.

Ignis also wields the Katana of the Warrior, which couldn't be more fitting for him, especially given his relationship with Noct. The glaive is even found in Fondina Castino in Cartanica, the boys' first stop after the catastrophe in Altissia. Ignis is blind, hating himself for every stumble, hating how Gladio and Noct fight while Prompto tries to stop them. After the retinue finds the Katana, Ignis finds his resolve and tells his companions he will continue, and if he can't keep up, he will not hinder them. He will gladly fall behind if it means they can push on together. "I would remain with you all," he says, "to the very end."

The Warrior's glaive bears a tragic description: "A king was changed forever when his beloved queen was taken from him prematurely. This was his katana." The weapon strikes swiftly, calculatedly, cutting down foes “in a single heartbeat." It carries magical defense but is especially weak to dark elements. The Warrior's mantle couples well with Ignis's losses throughout the story -- he loses his home, his sight, the light of the world, and his most beloved companion. Even then, he pushes on. He carries his sorrows and pushes onward, regardless, knowing full well the pain of losing everything that matters, and what else there is to lose.

The third Royal Arm Ignis wields is the Mace of the Fierce. The Fierce was said to be "gentle before his people but an ogre on the battlefield," dealing massive, crippling blows with his glaive. This weapon in particular illustrates the side of Ignis he keeps carefully hidden. For all his composure, his careful planning and strategic mind, he can be reckless, ruthless, and violent. When planning to infiltrate an Empire base, for instance, he's not above torturing someone to get information he needs. When he needs to get something done, he will get it done. When it comes to Noct's safety, he will do whatever it takes. He will gladly throw away his own safety, his sight, and his life to save him. This duality is nicely represented by the Fierce's glaive -- nice and composed, but cold and relentless when the situation calls for it.

Beneath his calm, placid surface, Ignis is a blazing fire. He's intensely driven, fiercely loyal, and wholly devoted to Noctis as he has been his whole life. He will throw everything away without question, even himself, if it means saving the ones he cares about. He is thoughtful and strong, careful and precise, but has a tendency to be ruthless, reckless, and destructive -- forgoing his own wellbeing to reach his ends. In the wake of tragedy, he pushes on, holding onto unwavering hope, unyielding devotion, unable to ever let go.

"Even if it costs my own life to save him... I will pay that price!"

All for the True King

The remaining four Royal Arms are used by Noct in the Armiger Chain. They, too, carry significance in his wielding them -- especially in the combination attack, symbolizing the unity of him and those he cares about. Noctis wields the Blade of the Mystic, the Bow of the Clever, the Trident of the Oracle, and the Sword of the Father during the Armiger Chain. The Blade of the Mystic stands for the Founder King. The Bow of the Clever is a weapon especially fit for Prompto, who then wields the Sword of the Wise, one of the fundamental figures of Lucian history. The Trident of the Oracle belongs to Luna, and the Sword of the Father belongs to none other than King Regis.

Noct's use of the Royal arms in the chain complements those his boys use, further symbolizing the unity and togetherness between them and the people -- and the whole world -- they care about. The Kings' stories are present in the Prince's friends, showing just how deeply connected they are to Noctis. There's no doubt Noct loves his boys dearly, and their thematic connections to the Kings and their weapons only illustrate how much they care about each other. They travel together, ride together, and rule together with the blessings of Kings past. Even in the wake of trial and tragedy, they remain inseparable, inexorably bound together, standing tall in the face of the dawn.

tldr AND DARLING DARLINGGGG STANDDDD MY MEEEE

screenshots from ardynizunya on twitter and the final fantasy fan wiki -- please let me know if you need credit for any of these! ;o;/

[valcalico]

Athena and Ares

(Just my thoughts on them and their relationship)

I have a lot of feelings about these two. They have a very complex dynamic, where they don’t really like each other, but they can’t work without each other either.

Athena provides rationality to the cruelty of war. She is the strategy and logic behind it. The objective. One might say she represents the generals, and the politicians and the main heroes. Basically the big players.

And Ares? He’s the opposite. He represents the emotion associated with war. He is the bloodlust and the desperate fight. Where the battle is thickest, where there is no room for thought, and when its pure survival instinct that drives you, that’s Ares. He represents the worst parts: the blood and the violence and the cruelty. He is accompanied by fear and terror (Phobos and Deimos). One might say he is the god of soldiers.

So they need each other. If they actually worked together, they’d be one of the dangerous forces ever, even in god circles. But they don’t. Not only because of how differently they view the world, but also because of deeper nuances in their relationship.

Athena is beloved. She is Zeus’ favourite child and his right hand goddess. The people love her. She is the patron of one of the most powerful, influential cities, Athens. She is highly respected everywhere else too. A protector of heroes and a friend to humanity.

Ares, on the other hand, is disliked by many. Zeus says he is “the most hateful of all gods” and says he would have thrown him into Tartarus if he wasn’t his and Hera’s son. (Its in the Iliad) (This part always makes me sad poor ares) He is highly respected in Thrace and Sparta. But Athens dislikes him and worships him out of necessity only.

Even in modern times, Athena is considered a feminist icon and badass lady, while Ares is labelled a brute.

Most people know this. So why did I just type out all that? Cause context is important when delving into the myths.

So first of all, let’s debunk that last point I made. In the ancient myths (and I’ll try not to include romans esp. Ovid), it didn’t work that way at all. Of course it’s important to keep in mind that ancient Greece was very misogynistic. But still, Athena was not feminist at all. Her being a “masculine” woman (mostly) was what made her so acceptable to Athens and she was regularly used to shut down other women. Also:

(The actual translation of this scene was circulated a while back. So you’re probably familiar with this. Also I’m not saying this to offend any worshippers of Athena or anyone who admires her. There are a lot of bad things in greek mythology and Athena’s internal and external misogyny is probably the least of my concerns. Plus if the greek gods did exist, i believe they change with the society, so they will no longer be Like That in the present day.)

Ares, on the other hand, was incredibly feminist, especially for that time. He surrounded himself with women he loved and respected. (Aphrodite, Eris, Enyo, etc). His lovers were often famously women who challenged the status quo (Otrera, Cyrene). He was regularly show to be a good father to all his daughters, immortal and mortal. (Harmonia, Hippolyta, Penthesilia, Alkippe). Also:

If that isn’t the coolest thing EVER-

Anyway, I won’t delve deep into that (well, any more than I’ve already rambled about it).

Now that we have gotten that out of the way, we can get to the hypotheticals.

I headcanon that despite ALL the evidence to the contrary, they maybe don’t despise each other completely. I see them having more of a love-hate relationship.

The thing is, gods are very contrary creatures. Zeus and Hera’s fights shake the world one moment, and in the next, they are as loving as any. Apollo is smiling and singing in one moment and skinning a satyr alive in the next. This complexity should be given this relationship too.

Like I said above, they need each other. Both general and soldier are equally important in war. And I don’t think you can completely truly need someone and hate their existence at the same time. (There are exceptions)

This scene in the Iliad really got me thinking:

If you take the scene at face value, this is probably not something to think too much about. Its Athena going to Ares, insulting him a bit, and taking him away from the war.

But its more than that. First off, Athena goes upto Ares and can calmly convince him to listen to her. Second, look how she frames the question. She says “shall we” which i think is pretty important. Athena doesn’t need to worry about Zeus’ anger or his rules, as she shows later on in the Iliad, and before, during the Rebellion. Both Athena and Ares knows this well. So why does she also need to withdraw? She can make the point without adding herself to the equation. She can also fairly easily run him off the battlefield like she does later. But she doesn’t. And there isnt any hostility from Ares.

Instead, they go together, away from the battlefield and...sit down near a river bank? Basically relax as much as they can? That doesn’t sound like a hateful relationship.

There is also the fact that Ares was going to join sides with the greeks (aka on Athena and Hera’s side) until Aphrodite convinced him to join her instead.

Its clear from this that Ares doesn’t really have much of a stake in this fight. He doesn’t care much about the greater objectives of the war. The only thing that can convince him to take a side is the people one the sides. He fights for the people he cares about, not for any greater good. He easily changes his loyalty because of his love for Aphrodite. He frequently gets into fights to save his children. He goes against Diomedes partly because of how he wounded Aphrodite. All of this means that he cares for Athena too. (And for Hera ofc). Maybe he doesn’t care for her as much as he cares for Aphrodite, but its not really fair to expect him to.

I like to think they genuinely do care for each other a great deal, they just kinda suck at showing it. Maybe that changes as time passes. I can see Athena being quietly protective of Ares (maybe she makes up an excuse to send him away during the Rebellion because she knows he will be in danger otherwise). I definitely think she felt a little guilt (guilt, not regret) at stabbing Ares, seeing as it wasn’t really fair. Ares didn’t know she was there.

I also think that Ares, who spends a lot of time with awesome women and is very fierce in standing up for them if the need arises, will be the one who calls her out a lot of the time on her misogyny or hypocrisy. Athena also has a habit of suppressing any “vulnerable” emotion. She likes to keep all her guilt, sadness, fear, hurt, and regret all locked up tight. I feel like Ares is one of the few people she lets a few of those emotions out around, even if she still tries not to. And in the lighter moments, in private, maybe they joke around a bit and laugh, too.

Okay, now for the heavier bit. While i do think they care for each other, there is also a lot of resentment there. A lot of it, unfortunately, comes from how they are treated by their peers and elders. They like different people, they are liked by different people and they are liked to different degrees. Let’s talk about 3 of the main players.

1) Zeus. Does this surprise you?

I do think Zeus loves all his kids. He doesn’t like some of them, but he does love all of them. And he isn’t as bad of a father as everyone thinks. People have discussed that better so I’ll not rant about it here.

All that aside, he definitely has favourites. Athena is his favourite child (Apollo, I think, being his second). And this favouritism is SUPER OBVIOUS. Its like none of the rules apply to Athena, which is weird considering Zeus isn’t forgiving of those who defy his authority (did someone say Prometheus?)

Ares, on the other hand, is on the other side of the spectrum. The one Zeus dislikes the most.

We can see how this affects them in several instances. The most notable is probably in the Iliad, after Athena deceitfully stabs Ares and forces him to flee to Olympus, injured.

Ares calls Zeus out on his favouritism. He says that gods weren’t allowed to fight each other and if it were anyone else, they would have been punished. He says Zeus always does this, always lets Athena get away with everything, and that he needs to start getting his daughter under control.

Zeus doesnt like this too much and basically tells Ares to stop whining and that he isn’t much better when it comes to destruction. He says Ares is the most hateful of all gods and loves bloodshed. He says he would have gotten rid of him if he weren’t his son, but seeing as he was, Zeus cannot bear to see Ares in pain. He then gets Ares healed.

I can definitely see how this kind of blatant favouritism from someone who should be better to Ares would affect him. Ares is the firstborn son of Zeus and Hera. He should be getting a lot of respect, as per ancient standards but instead, he is overtaken by his virgin half sister from Zeus’ previous marriage, and many bastard half siblings.

Athena being able to break rules left and right, and Ares having to be nervous about even toeing the line will cause distance between them.

This in addition to his position as a god of civil order is a reason that i think he wouldn’t want to break any rule until he deems it absolutely necessary, like if someone he cared about were in danger.

I can totally see a situation where both of them try to help a hero but Zeus orders them not to. Athena then wants to break the rules, but Ares is very hesitant about doing so. Athena convinces him, either by taunting or by calmly urging him, to go along with it. They get caught but only Ares gets punished. Ares can then truly show Athena the difference between her and everyone else.

Remember when i headcanoned earlier that Athena sends Ares away during the Rebellion? That ties into this. She knows that if they get caught, ares could get into trouble whether or not he did anything. I expect Ares will be furious about it when he returns and finds out what happened though, thinking it was just to get him out of the way, until its revealed why she did it. Then he’ll probably be super awkward.

2) Poseidon

The equal and opposite force to Zeus.

Well, maybe not equal, but quite close.

Lets start with the canon. Poseidon HATES Athena, despises her completely, and he frequently clashes with her father too. They worked together one (1) time and as a result, Athena wasnt punished while Poseidon was enslaved for years. Then there is the fight for Athens, the whole epic of the Odyssey, and so on.

Meanwhile he and Ares are actually shown to be close. Other than the Halirhothius incident, they are pretty chill. Poseidon is the one who vouched for him after the Net Thing With Hephaestus. Poseidon is also pretty cool with Aphrodite and they work together occasionally.

I think Poseidon thinks of Athena as this bratty kid of his brother, who is constantly working against him. You know that one annoying cousin you have who you try to avoid during family reunions because you KNOW you will clash? This is that, but a thousand times worse.

Meanwhile Poseidon really cares for Ares, and Ares takes fatherly affection from anywhere he can get it. Poseidon maintains a good relationship with both Aphrodite and Ares. He is closer with Aphrodite and doesnt love Ares quite as much as Zeus loves Athena, but he still cares a lot.

3) Aphrodite

It is no secret that Athena hates Aphrodite. Even when Athena warns Diomedes not to harm any god, she says Aphrodite is the exception. Athena, along with many of the other Olympians, see her as nothing but a silly, flighty, hysterical goddess.

On the other hand, Aphrodite and Ares are known for their intense love for each other, from even before her arranged marriage. They have a lot of kids together, and are shown to be close with all of them. They each have like one story of jealousy/one story where they are at odds with each other, which is pretty good for such a high-profile couple (Aphrodite curses Eos and Ares kills Adonis). They are there for each other, like in the trojan war, when Aphrodite was wounded and Ares gave her his chariot to go back to Olympus. He also changed sides very soon, just because Aphrodite asked. Athena complains about this too.

I think I wouldn’t be far off in saying that Athena is definitely resentful of how close they are, and how much sway Aphrodite has over her brother.

While Athena definitely doesn’t see eye to eye with Ares, and disagrees with his domain, she still sees him as a War God. One of her kind. And she just doesn’t see how a War God can go for someone like Aphrodite. Basically, she doesn’t think Aphrodite is, for lack of a better term, good enough for Ares, seeing as she is a Love Goddess.

Ares, on the other hand, does not want to hear anything like this. He is fiercely defensive of Aphrodite. He defends her warlike aspect (Aphrodite Areia), while everyone else tells her that she has no place in the battlefield. He sees Aphrodite as more than what people have labelled her to be. Which is why I believe (other than Eos and Adonis), they have one of the healthiest open relationships in greek mythology.

This can definitely cause animosity between Athena and Ares, because of Athena’s scorn and Ares’ temper. It can also increase the conflict between Athena and Aphrodite.

Maybe as time goes on, Athena can start seeing Aphrodite as having more depth. I certainly hope so. While they wouldn’t be best friends, I don’t see why they can’t learn to get along. This could also strengthen Athena and Ares’ bond. As long as people don’t insult her or lay their claim on her domain of Love and Beauty, Aphrodite is often very supportive. I truly think Aphrodite can help Athena overcome her misogyny, with Ares.

In conclusion, Athena and Ares have a very complex relationship. They do not simply hate each other, and neither do they have the most loving relationship. But they do care for each other. But strain can often be put on their relationship from their relationship to other people as well. Hopefully as time passes, they can overcome that, and have a healthier relationship, instead of sharing a good moment and then proceeding to fight each other for the next 500 years.

[scvrllet]

our secret place / r.b

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: You’ve grown used to taking autumn walks by yourself but weren’t agaisnt having someone join you

Prompt:��Going For A Walk

Words: 1.6k

A/N: This is my piece for @eleven-times-lively​​ and @masterofthedarkness​​‘ A Very Harry Potter Halloween event. bro it was 1:21am when i wrote this because i forgot i had to have this posted for today

Dried leaves littered the ground in hues of red, orange, yellow and brown. The trees were bare and the air was becoming cooler with every passing day. Winter was getting close which meant you had limited time to enjoy the autumn weather before snow would pack down. 

For the past six years you enjoy your autumn walks alone, or at least tried to. After your third year you had grown used to the feeling of loneliness but that didn’t stop the feeling entirely.

Before you were sent to Hogwarts, you would take autumn walks with your friends and family. It became a tradition to spend at least one day out in a forest or park where the leaves crunched beneath your feet. It was one of your fondest memories and one thing you missed the most while away at Hogwarts. Taking those walks alone felt lonely and going on walks during the summer time with your friends and family felt different. You quickly realized that you’d have to settle for those walks. 

From time to time you’d miss the laughter and conversations made during those walks you once took with friends and family but you knew there was nothing you could quite do to fill that void. Your friends didn’t seem to like the idea of walks, finding there to be ‘better things to do instead’ as they phrased it so you had stopped offering and just went by yourself.

You’d be a little sad at first when you started your walks, wishing for one of them to run up and join you but it never happened. You could only dream.

Today you took the same path as you always did. The narrow path behind Hagrid’s Hut which, after a few twists and turns, would lead you to a wider walking trail lined with tall trees. If you’d walk far enough, you’d even come across a pond with ducks and frogs and flowers all around it. The area was beautiful and even more during the autumn season. You had discovered the area when you were taking an old route back in fourth year and had gotten lost. This resulted in you ending up near the pond for the first time and after you found an easier way of reaching it, you made sure to visit it as much as possible to bask in its beauty. 

When you neared the pond, you stopped frozen in your tracks when you heard laughter from the pond. You were certain that no one knew about it but if someone had found it, why have you never ran into them before and more importantly, why today. 

Debating on whether you should turn around to leave or stay to find out who it was, you eventually chose the lather and quietly walked towards the source of the laughter.

Their back was facing you as they crouched down at the lake. A flock of ducks in the water were in front of them and you assumed that was the cause of their laughter. Ducks were amusing creatures after all. As the figure of the boy at the pond became clearer to you, you had briefly forgotten about being quiet which led you to walk into a tree. 

“Ow. Stupid tree!” You muttered, scowling at the tree as you rubbed your arm which thankfully, didn’t get cut on the rough bark. 

“Are you okay?” The boy from the pond asked, now standing in front of you with a concerned expression. 

“Oh yeah, I am. Thank you.”

You had felt like you had seen him before but you couldn’t exactly pinpoint how. There was just something about his grey eyes that seemed so familiar to you.

“How did you find this place?” He asked you.

“Found it back in fourth year. Well, I technically got lost and stumbled in but same thing.” You replied causing him to chuckle. You raised a brow at him before asking: “Something funny?” 

The boy didn’t stop like you had expected him to but instead smiled at you. “Yes, I find your story rather funny. Probably because I found it the same way as well, except it was second year for me instead.” He said, finding your shocked expression amusing and another reason to laugh. “Did you think that only you knew about this place too?” 

Embarrassed for having thought you were lucky to have found a secret spot all for yourself, you faced the ground and nodded. Hopefully he would assume it was the autumn breeze that was making your cheeks red and not because you were feeling embarrassed. 

“Well then, seeing as for the past four years I’ve only seen you here, it can be our little secret. I doubt the other students would have the nerve to go so deep into the forest.” He suggested and you smiled at him, an action he mirrored back before realizing he hadn’t introduced himself and extended his hand. “Regulus Black by the way.” 

So that was why he seemed so familiar. The Blacks were a well-known pureblood wizarding family in Great Britain. Aside from being one of the most noble and ancient pureblooded families left, they were also known for their good looks. Notable features of the Blacks were cool grey eyes and black unruly locks, both of which Regulus had inherited. It was a wonder how you haven’t recognized him sooner.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You replied as you shook his hand. It was cold, you noticed, soft but quite cold. 

“How have I never seen you here?” Now it was your turn to ask the questions. He had mentioned that he’s only ever seen you here before so that would have meant you should’ve seen him as well. 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Was his answer and a wave of realization washed over you. 

“And that’s what I’m doing right now. Oh god I’m so sorry, I can leave if you’d like?” You offered with a weak smile. Perhaps you shouldn’t have decided to investigate who the person by the lake was. Especially when he’s been purposely making sure not to bother for the past two years. Merlin you were an idiot. 

“No no, it’s alright. I don’t mind you being here, honestly. It is our secret little place now after all.” 

You scanned his face for any sign of lying and/or silent pleading for you to go away but you found none. He genuinely didn’t mind you being here when he could’ve been alone and despite only having met him five minutes ago, you didn’t mind having him here either. 

“Well since it’s our little secret, how do you feel about going on a walk?” It felt like you were holding your breath as you waited for his reply. 

You had to stop yourself from signing in relief when he said: “I’d like that.” with a small smile. You mirrored the expression before motioning for him to stand by your side before walking down the pathway that led towards the pond. The two of you walked for what felt like hours but the fact didn’t seem to bother any of you. A majority of the time you were both too busy laughing or talking to notice anyways. 

It wasn’t until when the sun had started to set behind the mountains that the two of you realized just how long you have been out. Extending his hand out for you to take, you hesitated for a moment before clasping your hands in his. When you were firmly holding his hand he smiled at you before running , catching you off-guard and pulling you along with him.

When you were finally able to match his pace and run alongside him, still hand in his, the two of you laughed as you imagined what would happen if Filch had caught you sneaking back into school when students were supposed to have been in their Common Rooms. 

“If we get caught you’re buying me a Butterbeer.” You said when you neared the school. 

“Deal.” He replied before walking inside the school with his still holding your hand. 

The halls were empty and you could hear the faint noise coming from the Great Hall. You could both probably make it there without getting caught if luck was on your side. 

“Students in the corridor! Students in the corridor!” Filch’s voice echoed through the hall that you and Regulus were walking through. 

“Shit.” You heard Regulus mutter before turning the corner and running down the hall. The two of you ran through many different corridors and hallways before he pulled you into an empty classroom and locked the door. It was then that he had finally let go of your hand.

The two of you stood there, hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath before breaking out into a fit of laughter. 

“Did you see his face?” 

“No, I was too busy trying to make sure he didn’t see us!” 

“I’ve never seen his eyes go so wide you should’ve seen it.” 

Silence followed after you had both calmed down. Had it been with anybody else, just standing there in front of each other, it would have been a very awkward experience but for some reason, it felt normal when you were with him. 

Despite only knowing him for a few hours, it felt normal, like you were supposed to be doing this. 

The two of you looked at each other with lazy smiles, enjoying the comforting silence until you opened your mouth to say: “You still owe me a Butterbeer.” 

“Only if we can do this all over again after.” He said. 

You knew you were supposed to say no. It would risk you House Points. Bloody hell it could even risk you expulsion if you were to get caught enough times and yet you agreed and shot him a warm smile. 

“As long it’s with you.” 

----------

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[scoutception]

Robotics;Notes Elite review

Robotics;Notes, the third visual novel in the Science Adventure series, is by far the most unfortunate entry in the series. Not only is it the follow up to Steins;Gate, one of the most acclaimed and popular visual novels ever released, something that even extends to its anime adaptation, but it had to wait until 2020, 8 years after its release in 2012, to be translated into English, well after every other main entry in the series besides Chaos;Head, with its anime adaptation being the only way to experience it beforehand, and while said anime is a decent watch in its own right, it definitely accentuates the source material’s problems, while adding several more. Needless to say, Robotics;Notes had a lot of things going against it when it was finally released, most of which weren’t even its own fault, and it can definitely come off as an underwhelming entry just from that. However, today, we’ll be putting aside all those external factors and take a fair look at the VN itself, and how it holds up on its own. The version I played was the Steam version, using the Committee of Zero patch, a fan made patch that, among other things, fixes many issues with the translation, and is absolutely the recommended way to experience the VN.

Kaito Yashio is a student of Chuo Tanegashima High, and one of the two members of its Robotics Research Club. The president of the club, Akiho Senomiya, Kaito’s friend since childhood, and little sister of the club’s founder, Misaki Senomiya, is completely committed to completing GunBuild-1, a lifesize recreation of the titular mecha from the extremely popular anime Gunvarrel, and a project the club has been working on since its creation. Unfortunately for Akiho, everything seems determined to see her efforts be in vain. The club gets no funding, and is seen as a laughingstock among the students, its advisor, Mitsuhiko “Mitchie” Nagafukada, is completely irresponsible and rarely does anything of help, and Kaito is completely apathetic to anything that isn’t KillBallad, a mobile fighting game he’s determined to become the top player in the world in. While the club soon manages to gain three new members, namely Subaru Hidaka, an expert in robotics whose knowledge far surpasses Akiho’s, Junna Daitoku, a former member of the karate club, and Kona Furugoori, aka Frau Koujiro, the teenage creator of KillBallad, their personalities are just as difficult: Subaru sees the project as a lost cause, and refuses to help with it without a compromise, Junna is painfully shy and has a fear of robots, and Frau is a complete shut in and social mess, being completely perverted and mostly talking in outdated slang, which keeps most people from even understanding her. Despite all this, Akiho’s unrelenting passion for mechas, and desire to step out of her sister’s shadow, compel her to continue on.

Meanwhile, Kaito one day encounters Airi, an AI that exists within the augmented reality app IRUO, along with a strange AR annotation called the Kimijima Report, authored by Airi’s deceased creator, Kou Kimijima. Within it are warnings of a grand conspiracy that aims to devastate humanity, the details of which are contained in similar reports hidden all over Tanegashima, locked behind “flags” that must be cleared before they become visible. Though at first skeptical, it soon becomes clear to Kaito that the reports contain a disturbing amount of truths, and that he’s become involved in something far larger, and far more dangerous, than he bargained for.

I’ll say it now, the story’s focus on both of these plotlines causes a number of noticeable issues, mainly due to feeling very disconnected from each other. While all of the main cast except Airi are heavily involved in the Robotics Club plot, only Kaito, Airi, and to a much lesser extent Frau are involved in the Kimijima Report plot, in comparison to, say, Steins;Gate and Chaos;Child, which tied its whole cast into their stories much better. In addition, the majority of the focus is on the club, and though always interesting, the reports tend to go rather uneventfully as well. Due to this, the story can feel very slow and meandering if you don’t know just what you’re getting into, much more so than the other entries in the series, which can definitely make it seem unappealing. Additionally, the story is much less standalone than most SciAdv VNs, where the references are often minor. Here, there are some rather significant references to Chaos;Head and, to a lesser extent, Steins;Gate, to the point of outright spoilers in a few cases, meaning going through those beforehand is heavily recommended, which is especially annoying when Chaos;Head still has no official translation, and only a fan translation for the incomplete PC version.

Despite all of this, both plotlines are actually quite compelling, once you get used to the game’s pacing. Robotics;Notes’ biggest strength is its absolutely great cast of characters. Everyone in the main cast is very likeable, distinctive, and well developed across the story, and have good dynamics with each other, with Kaito and Akiho’s interactions being some of the biggest highlights of the game, with the end result making everyone feel significant in their own ways, and truly feeling like a unified group, something Chaos;Head and even Steins;Gate struggled with at times. Kaito, who initially comes off as a very motivationless character, has a good amount of backstory and a constant, if subtle, arc throughout the game that makes him properly fleshed out. Subaru, who’d normally just be the token other guy, is a prominent and likeable character in his own right, having a very important role in Gunbuild’s construction, while Frau, who initially just comes off as comic relief, has many great moments throughout the story, with her focus chapter in particular being one of the best in the game. Even Airi has quite a bit more to her than it may seem. The cast is definitely a worthy successor to the cast of Steins;Gate, even more so than Chaos;Child’s, I would say.

The cast also heavily ties into one of the main themes of the game, namely dreams, the harsh difficulties and compromises one faces in pursuing their dreams, and how losing one can change a person. All of them face this, with varying amounts of focus, and it’s a theme furthered with the prominence of robots throughout the game, both the idealized kind found in mecha anime, and the real, practical robots of the real world. There’s an almost exhaustive amount of detail put into the construction and function of real robots, which makes for some interesting, if sometimes long winded, discussions throughout the game, in true SciAdv fashion.

While the story is mainly told through Kaito’s perspective, it switches fairly often to other characters, most often Akiho. While the rest of the series except for Steins;Gate does this as well, it’s notable here for giving almost every character, even the supporting cast, at least one scene from their perspective, often focused on their own personal dilemmas, or flashbacks involving Misaki. These perspective switches make a nice change of pace, and definitely help flesh out the characters even further. On the subject of the supporting cast, while most other entries either have supporting casts that are very inconsequential, such as in Chaos;Child, or almost nonexistent, such as in Steins;Gate, Robotics;Notes, on the other hand, has a much more prominent and fleshed out supporting cast. From Mizuki Irei, the harsh and snarky convenience store employee, and info broker to Kaito, to Tetsuharu Fujita, the grumpy but fair “Robot Doctor”, to Mitchie, the horribly unreliable, yet entertaining club advisor, they certainly leave much more of a mark than usual. The most interesting of all, though, is a 20 year old Nae Tennouji, originally a very minor character in Steins;Gate. She has an almost surprising amount of prominence throughout the game, and even has her own ending, if a very short one.

Compared to most other entries in the series, Robotics;Notes definitely carries a much lighter tone. Tanegashima makes for a very relaxed setting, and as mentioned, there aren’t quite as many big events as one might expect. The characters are generally pretty lighthearted in personality as well, up to Kaito not being nearly as unlikeable to start off as other SciAdv protagonists. However, the tone works quite well, and helps slowly endear the characters to you even early on. And while it’s not quite as messed up as, say, Chaos;Head, it’s got more than a few disturbing elements and scenes of its own. Ultimately, it has the same “feel” as the rest of the series, and when it wants to be intense, suspenseful, sad, or whatever else, it absolutely works, especially from chapter 7 onward.

As far as “gameplay” goes, there’s a surprisingly large amount of interactivity available. At most moments during the story, Kaito can pull out his tablet and access its various apps. Most prominently, there’s Twipo, an obvious lawyer friendly version of Twitter, where Kaito can look at tweets from the Robotics Club, its associates, and even random accounts commenting on current events, with Kaito having the option to reply to those of the Robotics Club. There’s also IRUO, the augmented reality app, which lets the player look around the area and scan geotags, which contain small profiles for characters, or details for locations or objects. IRUO is also used along with a map app to search for the Kimijima Reports, letting you travel to various different locations on Tanegashima to search. It’s a neat concept, but the icons for the reports are so small, and so many locations tend to be available at one time, that finding them can often just be annoying. There’s also, of all things, the otherwise story reliant KillBallad matches, where you have to successfully input a string of buttons, the length of which varies depending on the opponent’s skill, within a time limit in order to win. Most of the time it doesn’t matter, but there are achievements and even story sequences reliant on winning or losing certain matches. All in all, these make for nice occasional changes of pace, but it’s still a visual novel in the end.

Visually, Robotics;Notes is actually quite impressive. As can be seen in the screenshots, instead of sprites, 3D character models are used instead in normal scenes, and having played Virtue’s Last Reward and Zero Time Dilemma well before this, I was more than a bit wary of them before release. Thankfully, compared to the cheap models of those two games, they’re much, much better. They’re actually very expressive, and have some great animations that give each character a lot of life. The backgrounds are also quite well done, and Tanegashima definitely makes for a unique and atmospheric setting. As usual for visual novels, there’s also CGs throughout the game, done in a different, but still appealing and well drawn style. Finally, in one of the biggest additions to Elite compared to the original version, occasionally, clips from the anime adaptation is used, mostly to better demonstrate details that were only narration originally, as far as I can tell. This blend of 3D models, CGs, and animation is a bit bizarre at first, but it works surprisingly well, and makes for one of the most visually appealing entries in the series.

As far as sound goes, Takeshi Abo is once again the composer, and once again puts out a very good soundtrack, which further captures and enhances the atmosphere. The soundtrack in general is definitely much lighter and peaceful than usual, but actually has more tracks than most of the SciAdv soundtracks, allowing it to cover many other moods as well. From the very relaxed Winds of Tangegashima, to the mysterious Uchugaoka Park, to the nostalgic Memories with Big Sis, and especially the beautiful title screen theme, Robotics Notes -2nd theme-, there’s a lot of great songs to be found. The voice acting is also very good, and the characters wouldn’t work nearly as well without it, with Ryohei Kimura as Kaito, Yoshino Nanjo as Akiho, Kaori Nazuka as Frau, and Sora Tokui as Junna especially sticking out to me.

It’s worth noting that Robotics;Notes is on the longer side when it comes to SciAdv, much like Chaos;Child. It’s hardly Fate/Stay Night, but it’ll take some time to get through. It also has a very, very weird and annoying ending system. Whereas in other titles, endings are, just that, actual endings you can diverge into somewhere in the story, Robotics;Notes’ endings are actually just regular chapters that are part of the main story, which just happen to focus on different parts of the cast. The divergence happens in chapter 5, and depends on your replies to said characters on Twipo in both that chapter and the preceding one, with you instead going to the short Nae ending if you don’t fulfill the requirements for any of them. While Steins;Gate had a similar system, and was annoying in of itself, Robotics;Notes takes it to another level by making all but the Nae ending mandatory, though said ending has some points that make it worth seeing regardless, and occurring in a specific chronological order, despite allowing you to get the endings nonlinearly, meaning you could accidentally skip from chapter 5 to chapter 8. The system overall is just unneeded, and following a guide, such as the one by the aforementioned Committee of Zero, is highly recommended.

In the end, would I recommend Robotics;Notes? To a SciAdv fan, absolutely. To someone who isn’t, well, I already explained the problems there. I can’t say its one of my favorites among the series, but by itself, it’s still something I enjoyed a lot. Despite the issues it does have, its very well done cast, visuals, sound, and overall story make it a memorable and emotional experience in its own right. Now, with yet another long VN review out of the way, I anxiously await the Committee of Zero patch for Robotics;Notes DaSH, to finally finish off my SciAdv journey, for the foreseeable future, at least. Till next time. -Scout

[fandomlurker]

A Ponderous Rewatch: Bubba Bo Bob Brain and Cameo

Can I just say that I think I’m somehow getting worse at keeping the screenshot count down?

Neither the cameo nor the main episode in this post are animated by TMS, so that’s not the reason for the surprisingly high screenshot count. However, the regular episode is animated by Wang Film Production, who are the same folks that animated the very first PatB segment and have done most of the episodes I’ve covered so far, including the previous one. I can tell they’ve gotten a better handle at animating our main duo in the skit we’re looking at today, especially Brain. Wang Film Production is no TMS, but they’ve gotten very, very good at expressions. They’ve also seemed to settle into a rounded and soft design for Brain, something that they’re kind of known for among fans if I recall correctly. Pinky can still be a little…off at this point in time, though.

Moving on, the cameo that we’re starting with is animated by Akom Film Productions. They’re the folks who usually do the animation for the Chicken Boo and Goodfeathers episodes, and they usually do a pretty good job with those characters. As far as our mouse duo go, though, Akom has only done “Opportunity Knox” so far. You know, the one with the oddly nightmarish Brain close-ups. Thankfully we get none of that since it’s only a short bit.

So yes, onto the cameo in “Noah’s Lark”!

So this is actually a Hip Hippos episode, but luckily we don’t have to deal with them at all right now. The premise is the story of Noah’s Ark, obviously, but the character of Noah is done as a parody of the stand-up comedian Richard Lewis, who was somewhat popular in the 80s. The most modern and notable media he’s been involved in that people on Tumblr might know him from (or at least, what I think folks here might recognize, it can be a little hard to gauge that since both millennials and gen z folks are the main demographic of this site) are Robin Hood: Men in Tights where he played Prince John, and Curb Your Enthusiasm where he plays himself.

Noah is rounding up two of every animal to go onto the ark (which is a popular depiction of how the story goes, but is actually false: it’s supposed to be seven male and female pairs of “clean” animals of each species and one pair of “unclean” animals of the same species, but that’s as far as I’m going into that topic). He’s nearly finished the list and has just been mauled by the wolverine pair, and…

“Lab mice?...”

The fact that he’s specifically asking for a pair of lab mice raises a lot of questions that I don’t think we have time to unpack.

The pair of lab mice that he gets is, of course, Pinky and the Brain.

And Pinky is, for the very first time in the series, crossdressing, presumably to pass as a female mouse so he and Brain can survive the great flood by boarding the ark.

…This is also a lot to unpack.

“Check!” they both exclaim, although Pinky does it in a very deep voice for some reason.

Wow, look at the surprise and then hostile suspicion on Noah’s face there!

Their outfits are very 1950s, with Brain even carrying a suitcase. Anachronisms aside, these two really went all out for the “we are a normal, heterosexual pair” ruse, didn’t they? Not only is Pinky in a dress and a blonde wig, but Brain even put on a little bowler hat. Why did he feel the need to do that? Did he feel left out of dressing up otherwise? Was he afraid he wouldn’t look “manly” and hetero enough without it? I have so many questions…

“Whew! These pantyhose are killing me, Brain!”

Wow, for once it’s Pinky physically hurting Brain, even if it’s a relatively minor tug on the ear.

“I think I prefer knee-highs…”

…Pinky, you’re not even wearing pantyhose. What the hell are you talking about?

Assuming that this is just the result of an animation oversight (which, honestly, I’m certain it was), we now know that his disguise went so over-the-top as to include pantyhose which Noah wouldn’t normally see…and also it’s a type of pantyhose that Pinky doesn’t even like wearing, which implies to me that this is something Brain acquired for him.

There is just so much going on in cameos like these if you think about them for even a few seconds.

Also, I agree with Pinky. Knee-high pantyhose are much less uncomfortable to wear.

BONK!

So the mice are allowed to board and the audience is left to think that their little ruse worked, but immediately after the two run off and are out of listening range Noah rolls his eyes and says

“Who am I to judge?”

Heavily implying Noah completely saw through it and let them on anyway. Wow.

That’s the end of their cameo. Who’d have thought that this little scene would be the precursor to Brain having Pinky crossdress to disguise him as Brain’s wife so many times in the series? And who’d have thought that this very first time wouldn’t fool anyone at all?

But now let’s move on to the meat of this rewatch post:

We open to Acme Labs at night, as usual, though I’ve never noticed until now how lonely and eerie the place seems if you ignore our mouse duo.

“Pinky… I believe I have conceived my most brilliant plan to date!”

Oh boy, we have another first for today! Brain is very much a fan of using temporary mind control for his plans. It’s the method he falls back on the most, which is very interesting when you consider his various psychological issues involving having control taken away from him all his life.

“I shall use subliminal mind control to take over the world!”

“…Pinky?”

The hand-on-hip pose here is great.

“Today’s inside story is country mega-star Willie Ray Cypress!”

Uh, Pinky? Considering that this is pretty much the expression you had while looking at Pharfignewton, I am very, very worried about you looking at the Billy Ray Cyrus parody the same way.

“Don’t tell my head, my empty hollow head!~”

“You know I wouldn’t understand!~”

Same, Brain. Same. It’s just like Pinky to enjoy a song as earworm-y as this (not to mention how relevant this parody is to his everyday experience with Brain’s plans), but lord was the real song this is making fun of annoying as hell back in the day. Like, I was a small child at the time this song came out, and I still hated how often this would be played on the radio.

Luckily, Brain pounces on the remote’s off button and puts an end to the nonsense.

But oh, the look of sad betrayal on Pinky’s face is heartbreaking! I’m sorry, sweetie!

“It must be inordinately taxing to be such a boob.”

Heh, Brain said “boob”. /inner six year old

“You have no idea…”

“Pinky, do you know what a subliminal message is?”

“Something you leave on a subliminal telephone answering machine?”

Nice try, Pinky.

“No. It is a recorded message perceived only by the subconscious human mind.”

Two things here:

This diagram bothers me because my mind always interprets the way they’ve drawn the bottom of the cerebellum as the person shutting their eyes extremely tightly.

Brain using his own tail as a pointing stick is very, very cute and I love this detail.

“I have recorded such a message.”

He’s still holding his tail, aaaa!~

“Citizens of the world, you are under my control. You will do whatever I say…”

“Nice mix, but it’s not exactly danceable, is it?”

Oh, Pinky. Only you would sincerely compliment Brain’s incredibly dry mind control message and then immediately point out a flaw that has nothing to do with its purpose. Bless you, you stupid and wonderful little mouse.

I like how Pinky’s interjection startles the hell outta Brain for a moment, too.

“If people heard this message enough times, they would succumb to my control and we could take over the world!”

Notice that despite Pinky being a minor annoyance and despite the fact that Brain claims that everyone will be under his control, yet again it’s still both of them taking over the world.

“What do you think, Pinky?”

And he still wants Pinky’s input. It’s small and scattered and very, very subtle, but in my opinion this is Brain’s most frequent way of showing that he cares about Pinky. Brain likely isn’t even aware that he does it. Pinky might not be aware, either.

“I think I’m getting dizzy and I rather like it! Ahahahahahoo!~”

“Sometimes you hurt my head, Pinky…”

And yet, Brain. And yet…

“The only problem: How to get this message repeated worldwide airplay…?”

Offscreen, Pinky turns the TV back on and startles Brain again, but only for a moment.

Another great pose and expression here: Mildly annoyed, but interested and on the verge of an idea.

“I just adore Willie Ray!”

“I listen to his song twenty times a day!”

I…really don’t know why they chose to have this shot done with Brain walking over the “camera” towards the TV so we get a brief close-up of Brain’s mousey behind. It made me laugh, though, so I thought I’d share.

“Pinky… Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

I’m also kind of obsessed with this brief expression of Pinky’s I unintentionally managed to capture. It’s a bit of a smug, knowing, and yet endeared look. I’m sure it’s completely unintentional on the animators’ part, but I love the idea it gives me of Pinky knowing exactly what Brain’s thinking but purposefully saying something entirely unrelated to playfully tease him.

“Well, I think so, Brain, but burlap chafes me so.”

To be fair, Pinky, I think burlap chafes everyone. And were you thinking about doing a potato sack race? That’s the only connection to burlap I can think of that would be in any way relevant...

“Country music, Pinky. I will go to Nashville and become the biggest country music star of all time! Everyone will hear my record and my subliminal message and I will take over the world!”

In all honesty, that would probably be easier to do in the early 90s when this takes place since country music wasn’t such a…well, “dead” is a bit of an exaggeration, but country music as a genre is incredibly unpopular nowadays with the occasional notable exception. In the early 90s? Not so much.

“Egad, Brain!”

This is the most enthusiastic swoon I’ve seen and heard from you yet, Pinky.

“Oh! But no, no… It takes people years of hard work to become famous, Brain.”

Well, that or they’re born into a famous family. Or they’re just rich.

“Why, take Kathie Lee Gifford for example: She did community theatre, and—“

I actually can’t find anything via Googling about Kathie Lee doing community theatre before she became famous. She seems to have studied music and drama in university, and had a folk music group in high school, but the only reference to theatre I can find is professional musical theatre in the late 90s.

It’s possible Pinky’s right, though.

BONK!

BRAIN! …Wait, where did you even get that tiny club?

“Stop talking, Pinky, I must think.”

You… Brain, I think I’m starting to see why some fans believe you may be as neurodivergent as Pinky is, but in a different way. I can’t in good faith elaborate on that myself, since I haven’t been diagnosed as such and it would be completely disrespectful of me to do so, but if anyone wants a good little theory on that, try here.

“I have calculated every ingredient necessary to become a country music mega-star. Read me the list, Pinky!”

He’s typing by hopping from one key to another, aww!

Eeeh, the lettering work on that computer is pretty bad, though.

“A cowboy hat.”

“Check!”

“A southern dialect.”

“Check, ya’ll!”

“Nice, Brain.”

The way Pinky says “nice” here reminds me of this meme. Also, aww, Pinky’s always ready with the compliments.

“Working class values…”

“I enjoy beef jerky and the comedy stylings of Gallagher. Check.”

His visible cringe at having to say he enjoys Gallagher is wonderful. I first heard about Gallagher through My Brother, My Brother and Me, but for anyone that doesn’t know, Gallagher is a frankly terrible prop comedian whose most famous act was smashing things on stage (usually fruits of increasing size) with a large mallet that he called the “Sledge-O-Matic”, ending with smashing a watermelon. It was apparently a mildly popular bit of comedy in the south. Does that sound entertaining? No? Yeah, that’s…that’s why Brain is cringing so hard.

“A song.”

“Check!”

A song titled “A Song”. Brain, sweetheart, I think you’re going to need to put in a little more effort than that.

“A name consisting of not less than three words.”

“From now on, I shall be ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’. Check.”

I would make fun of him for this name, but honestly it’s kind of genius in its bland simplicity.

“And…a height of at least six feet!”

“Aaa--guebuh…”

Whoops. Forgot about that one, huh?

“Drat!”

“There must be some way for me to increase my height…”

Gee, if only you had a fully operational mechanical human suit just laying around.

“Hmm, let me think…”

“Don’t hurt yourself, Pinky.”

He is trying his best!

“Faster, Pinky! Faster!”

…Why does Pinky have to spin the thread? The whole point of sewing machines like this is that they’re powered electrically, Brain. Are you just making him do this so Pinky feels included?

Oh. Oh no…

Brain’s “WTF?” face is great. He’s surprised and yet not at the same time, because things like this just happen when you have Pinky around.

“You amaze me, Pinky.”

“I do my best…”

A very cute exchange.

So instead of using the mechanical human suit they usually fall back on in times like these (maybe it’s under six feet tall?), the mice instead come up with…this.

“Proceed, Pinky.”

I have to give them some credit, regardless of how ridiculous this is, as sewing denim to make a very bizarrely thin and tall pair of jeans must have been an absolute nightmare.

“Ki-yi-yippee-yi-yo. How do I look?”

I’m getting flashbacks to the similarly deadpan singing of “Camptown Races” from last episode. Brain’s really on a western kick lately, isn’t he?

“Oh, very nice, Brain!”

Your finger-framing may be focused on the back of Brain’s head for some reason, Pinky, but your pupils are definitely pointed a bit…lower.

“It’s ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’.”

“You are my manager, Colonel Pinky.”

This is a reference to Elvis Presley’s manager, Colonel Tom Parker, who was honestly quite the bungler when it came to managing Elvis’ career. I honestly don’t think Brain’s making a subtle jab at Pinky’s competency here for once because Brain’s grasp of pop culture he’s not already interested in is surface level at best most of the time.

“You discovered me playing the guitar on the front porch of my humble pig farm. Any questions?”

“Oh, just one: When you farm humble pigs, how far apart do you have to plant them?”

“…If I could reach you, I would hurt you.”

Hey now, you’re the one that asked, Brain.

“But for now, on to Nashville!”

“On to Nashville!”

BONK!

“This is a pain that is going to linger…”

That’s what you get for rolling your eyes at Pinky’s enthusiasm.

No perilous car trips this time! Instead, the boys are getting bus tickets to Nashville.

“Two tickets to Nashville, please.”

“Ooh-wee!~ You’re a tall drink a’ water, aint’cha, darlin’?”

…Ma’am? Excuse me, ma’am? Ma’am, are you flirting with The Brain?

Like, sorry, that “tall drink of water” saying is not just to point out that someone’s tall. It’s specifically for flirting with someone who is tall and gorgeous and a refreshing sight to see, like a tall glass of water on a hot summer day.

This lady is flirting with a mouse on stilt legs.

I know that Brain’s disguises are prone to inexplicably work even when by all rights they shouldn’t, but…

“Actually, I am a lab mouse on stilts.”

Brain does his usual bold and plain truth shtick and I’m a little surprised that he didn’t react to what she said beyond that. Then again, this is Brain and he’s quite terrible when talking to women in general, so maybe we dodged a bullet here.

“…At least he didn’t ask me to pull his finger.”

I’ve worked in retail and food service for years, ma’am, and if that’s the extent of your experience with unpleasant men, consider yourself lucky.

“EGAD, Bibby-boo-bop-Brain! Round trips are so exciting!”

“It’s ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’, Pinky.”

“Right! Sorry. Zort!”

Honestly, Pinky’s version is much cuter.

“Concentrate, Pinky, concentrate!”

BONK!

“YES! This pain will definitely be with me a while.”

Brain out here looking like a bad Minecraft texture.

Hello again, Warner Siblings! Gosh, that little fringed western skirt on Dot is cute.

“’The Rowdy Ranch Nightclub’… What are we doing here, Boobie-baa-baa-Brain?”

I checked the official subtitles for this and yes, that is exactly what he mistakenly calls Brain here. We have had both of these two call each other “boob” or some permutation of it this episode.

Pinky and the Brain sure is a show that exists.

“…It’s ‘Bubba Bo Bob’ Brain. And according to statistics, and inordinate number of country western superstars have gotten their start at this very establishment.”

You probably didn’t need me to tell you this, but there’s no Rowdy Ranch Nightclub in real life. There is, however, “The Rowdy Ranch”, uh, ranch in Texas.

“Egad! [gasp] Do you suppose Minnie Pearl performed here?”

“One can only hope…”

Man, Brain, you are really laying the sarcasm on thick this episode. Come to think of it, he’s been slightly more sassy towards Pinky than usual this episode as well. I suppose he’s still sore about the end of the last one. You know, for reasons.

BONK!

At least he’s getting some karmic punishment for it, I guess.

“I am a telephone repairman from this area!~”

This little ditty this man is singing has bugged the hell out of me for quite a while, as it certainly sounds like it’s a reference to something but I never knew exactly what it was referring to until just now thanks to an old Animaniacs Usenet group from way back in the day: It’s a parody of the song “Whichita Lineman” by Glenn Campbell. The writers are really giving it their all with the pop culture references this time.

“When I give the signal, play the subliminal message tape.”

“Right-o, Bippie Bebop Balloola!”

“…Sometimes you frighten me, Pinky.”

Why, though?! Despite it being a mistake it’s honestly a goddamn adorable one. Why must you fear affectionate, innocent, unknowing malapropisms, Brain? Pinky’s still going to do what you told him to.

Anyway, Brain is ushered onto the stage as a newcomer and he’s…not exactly any more eloquent than Pinky was just now.

“Howdy, you all. Here’s a little…ditty I wrote. Hope you enjoy it…you all.”

Here’s the thing: Brain’s not one to get stage fright, and while he’s not the best actor he’s still usually better than this. He was saying “ya’ll” and getting the country-isms perfectly fine beforehand, although he was still doing it in his deadpan Brain way.

Now, suddenly, after hearing Pinky cutely screw up his fake name and going on stage he’s starting to mess up. It’s like Pinky’s error is still in the back of his mind and flustering him enough to throw him off for a bit.

He gets back into the swing of things when he starts singing his song, though.

“I am a lab mouse, I escaped from my cage

Never had a job, never earned minimum wage.~”

“He ain’t half bad.”

“Ain’t half good, either.”

OUCH. That’s a little harsh. Sure, the lyrics are kinda blah but he’s a decent singer here. Really, it’s just not a genre of music that his voice fits very well.

Also, lady? You’ve got a suspiciously busty doppleganger in the back there. That’s got to be a bad omen for you.

“But you will respect me, YES, once my plan is unfurled!~

You will call me your leader, I’ll be king of the world!~”

Careful, Brain. Your complicated emotional complex is starting to show in those lyrics.

There’s some more nice facial expressions here too. I can’t really capture it with still images, but Brain’s got a very tender demeanor when he sings about being king of the world.

“Now, Pinky!”

…I just noticed that Pinky’s wearing a completely different outfit here at the nightclub than he was when boarding the bus to get to Nashville. He was previously in an all-white colonel outfit and now he’s in a more generic yet very sweet cowboy get-up. Did you make yourself an entire wardrobe, Pinky?

Another minor detail is that while Pinky’s cowboy hat is a generic tan colour (although before, it was white), Brain’s hat is completely black, which as per western film traditions marks him as a clear villain.

You and I know he’s not really a villain and is, at worst, an anti-villain…but I thought this was worth pointing out anyway.

“Citizens of the world, you are under my control. You will do whatever I say.”

I love how he does this completely unneeded strum on his guitar in the middle of his subliminal message. It's for the drama!

“Buy my record and listen to it twenty times a day.”

Corporations be like…

Who am I kidding? Corporations nowadays would have you pay a fee monthly to have a song on your phone playlist and you would never really own a copy.

“Let’s buy his record…”

“And listen to it twenty times a day…”

Lady, that doppleganger is still over there. Do you need a distraction while you sneak out the back?

This smug lil’ jerk. Gotta love him, though.

And so Brain’s cassette tapes fly off the shelves at record speed.

Man. Cassette tapes. I feel so fuckin’ old…

“I don’t know ‘bout ya’ll, but I can’t get enough of Bubba Bo Bob Brain. Let’s hear it again!”

JFC, that spittoon. Blegh! And just what do you need that rope for?!?

“Well, he’s the hottest thing to hit Nashville since my mama’s jalapeno grits! Here’s Bubba Bo Bob Brain!”

Having just recently learned what exactly “grits” is, I am very disturbed by the idea of jalapeno grits.

“I’m your biggest fan! What d’you say to that?”

Hi, Dolly Parton! I’ve gotta say that the animators nailed the caricature of 90s Dolly here pretty well. She’s instantly recognizable, unlike some other celebrity parodies Animaniacs does. It’s not just because of Dolly’s, uh…most renowned physical characteristics, either. That’s a very Dolly Parton smiling face.

Not much to say here other than that Dolly’s a sweetheart of a woman, from what I know about her, especially for a celebrity. She’s a staunch supporter of Covid relief and Black Lives Matter as well.

That said, she’s sadly—both in the 90s and now—most well known for…

“I’d say puberty was inordinately kind to you.”

BRAIN!

Well, yeah. That.

I guess now you can see what I mean about Brain not being very good at talking to women. Like, he’s definitely not ogling her here. In fact he’s just kind of…stating something he’s noticed and looking absolutely done with this whole celebrity thing. But Brain you don’t just make a joke like that about a woman’s bust size no matter how deadpan you do it, you ass!

“Haha, go on.”

She takes it well, though, just like Dolly seems to in reality.

Still, though! Brain, you retroactively deserved all those run-ins with doorframes.

Continuing on the buxom southern women thing this episode has decided to run with (seriously, what’s going on here?), we now have a brief parody of a Hee Haw skit.

“Hahahahaha!”

“Hey, Bubba Bo Bob Brain, I just got back from France!”

“How’d you find it?”

“I used a map.~”

“Hahahahaha!”

Yeah, that’s an accurate depiction of Hee Haw style humour.

“And the Country Tune Award for best male vocal goes to…”

“Bubba Bo Bob Brain!”

Here we have Garth Brooks and Crystal Gayle emceeing this awards ceremony. I had to look up who these two were supposed to be, though, since the caricatures are pretty vague this time.

“EGAD! YIPPEE! Narf! Ah hahahahahaha!”

Aww, he’s so happy for Brain! And oh, is that yet another outfit I see? And a much more appropriately sunshine-y yellow and flamboyant one at that! Pinky really went all-out for this.

Again with the tongue hanging out too, except this time it’s more understandable.

“You’re embarrassing me, Pinky.”

And you’re continuing to be a jerk, wow. Someone needs a nap or something.

“Pardon my effervescence, but your accolade is more than any bucolic mouse merits.”

“What’s he sayin’?”

“I don’t know.”

Yes, Brain just used the word “effervescence”, much like in that one Tumblr Twilight meme. To those reeling from the fact that this compares Edward to Brain via their shared pretentiousness: You’re welcome.

Also, a Brain-to-common English translation: “Pardon my bubbly enthusiasm, but your award is more than any countryside mouse deserves.” Would that have been so hard to say, Brain?

“…I’d like to thank my mama and Elvis.”

I wouldn’t thank Elvis. He was an asshole. But that’s probably not wise to say at a 90s country music award show, so I guess it’s understandable.

“Oh, how nice!”

“Well isn’t that nice!”

“I’m outside the Grand Ol’ Opry, where tonight’s concert featuring country music sensation ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’ is being televised worldwide.”

“In two words: Bubba is hot!”

I… That’s twice in this episode where a human woman thinks a tiny, big-headed mouse on stilts is hot.

Furries, come get these poor, confused women.

“You gotta know how to cut ‘em

Know how to shuffle

Know how to deal the cards, before you play Fish with me.~”

Hello, Kenny Rogers. I only know the song parodied here, “The Gambler”, again through “My Brother, My Brother and Me” and the long and hilarious conversation about it.

It’s kind of weird to have a song that was made famous by Rogers in 1978 sung like it’s a recent hit in an early 90s awards show, but ehh. Maybe the shelf life of hit country songs is a lot longer than songs of other genres.

And then you die in your sleep~

“Do you realize what will happen if the world hears my song just one more time?”

“An angel will get its wings?!”

If only, Pinky.

“NO, Pinky!”

I think all this country stuff is really getting on Brain’s nerves. He’s being snappy and irritable and lashing out an abnormal amount ever since arriving in Nashville, and there’s not a lot of joy in the minor successes he’s had so far. Like, compare Brain smiling and praising Pinky for his work during the alien encounter spoof they did together, the last episode with Brain cheerfully singing to himself when he was certain he’d win the race…to now where he’s yelling at Pinky for minor mistakes that no one but himself is aware of and being joyless and faking pleasantries and rolling his eyes at the country stars he’s surrounded by. This mouse is crabby as all hell, and I don’t think it’s just because he finds the whole country western thing stupid and below him. This is a mouse who’s done and will continue to do degrading things to achieve his goal of world domination without this much jerkishness.

I think he’s still fuming about the whole Pharfignewton and Pinky thing, and the current plan being a very rural, country-focused plan like the last one with the Kentucky Derby is just exacerbating it by reminding him of it. Like, you don’t even have to take it in the gay way I am and instead take it in a “how dare that goddamn horse take the complete attention of my friend/world domination partner away from me and my plans, this sucks and I can’t believe Pinky’s just being his usual dumbass self like everything is fine and the same” sort of way.

But the gay way makes way more sense, fight me.

…Okay, don’t fight me, I’m tired and old and I really don’t want to get in internet fights about cartoon mice.

“My subliminal message will take permanent hold, and the world will be under my control!”

Ooof! We’re back down to “my” control and not “our”. Jeez, Brain. You really are spiraling right now, aren’t you? Your attitude has quickly devolved from the beginning of this episode...

“Oh, that.”

And dang, even Pinky’s enthusiasm is starting to get deflated.

“Now, do you remember what you have to do?”

“Yes. I need to make a dental appointment. I have horrible plaque buildup!”

Pinky, you do realize that unlike a regular, non-sapient mouse you can just brush your teeth, right?

“The tape, Pinky, the TAPE!”

“Oooh, right! When you give the signal, I play the tape.”

“And now, I’d like to introduce…”

“This is it, I’m on.”

“Good luck, Booba Bip Bop Brain!”

Folks, I swear to you that I tried to get a decent screencap of Pinky slapping Brain to figure out if he slapped his back or his ass and for the life of me I could not get it. The slap goes by just that fast and I’d honestly have to go frame by frame if I wanted to get it, but my video player will not go that slow.

Either way, Brain is certainly startled by the contact but is fixated more on the continued mangling of his fake name.

“How many times do I have to tell you, my name is--!”

Uhh, Brain? Getting a liiiittle close there.

“—Bubba Bo Bob Brain!” exclaims Kenny Rogers. And oh boy are these screencaps exploitable. Again, you’re welcome.

“Yee-haw! Let’s start this hootenanny!”

Better than last time you came out on stage to sing at a show, at least.

This time the crowd even sings along with him, and they’re not even hypnotized yet. Much better.

“Now, Pinky!”

“You are under my control, you will do whatever I say…”

“I will do whatever he says… Whatever he says… Whatever he says… Whatever he says…”

A confusingly consistent detail here: Every woman in the crowd has swirly red hypnotized eyes and every man in the crowd has swirly green hypnotized eyes. Why? Who knows!

“Way to go, Blubber Boo Bean Brain. Narf!”

Heh, that hand flip.

It looks like Pinky is trying hard to suppress his verbal tic here for some reason? Or maybe he’s just realized that he’s messed up the name again and is cringing in anticipation of Brain yelling at him? Either way, poor guy… You really don’t deserve any of what’s coming.

And what’s coming? Well, given Brain’s heightened pissy attitude and his mental issues with not having things go exactly the way he wants them to, plus his obsessive need this episode to correct Pinky on this one thing that doesn’t need to even be addressed because no one else hears it, plus other repressed emotions…

“Do me a favour and forget my name. While you’re at it, forget you ever knew me!”

Holy shit.

…Now you fucked up, Brain. Now you fucked up.

Man, I hate the one thick facial hair on the dude in the middle. It’s so unsettling.

“Hey, who’s that skinny guy on stage?”

“Who is he?”

“Get him off!”

“Boo!”

“We wanna see someone famous!”

Yup. Look at what you did. You messed this up all because you were having a temper tantrum about Pinky messing up your stupid false name. You hang that head in shame. And you apologize to Pinky.

Later...

“Tonight’s inside story: A complete unknown somehow made it on to the stage at the Grand Ol’ Opry.”

“…Turn that off, Pinky.”

You know what? Keep it on for a bit, Pinky. Let Brain wallow in this humiliation just a bit more. He needs to have the lesson set in.

“I’m trying to concentrate on a better plan for tomorrow night.”

“Why, Brain? What are we going to do tomorrow night?”

“Same thing we do every night, Pinky:”

“Try to take over the world!”

Hey wait just a minute! You can’t just reuse this excellent ending from “Win Big” on this episode! Brain doesn’t yet deserve to get back to being cocky and determined after being such an ass!

Ahh well. He does get better, folks, I promise. This is just a rough patch. Brain is… He’s going through some things, I think. He’s not processing his emotions in a healthy way and it’s really coming back to bite him.

Listen, I understand this whole thing with Brain being extra grumpy and hostile after the whole Pinky dating Pharfignewton thing is largely coincidence. We don’t actually know what order these episodes were made in, after all, and the Animaniacs writers were not big on continuity.

Here’s the thing, though: I still find it fascinating that these episodes were aired one after the other…especially with a random cameo with Pinky and Brain disguised as a married couple in between. It makes for the beginning of a strange sort of arc that occasionally reminds us that, hey, these two mice are a duo and something is amiss when that duo is broken up or there is a strain put on that relationship.

I’ve read that after a while, network executives at the time tried to push for these mice to settle down and have families and for the skits and the eventual spin-off to largely abandon the whole world domination thing. They wanted it to be more sitcom-like to rival and imitate shows like The Simpsons.

That obviously doesn’t work. It can’t work. The writers, especially Peter Hastings, very much pushed back against the idea. When you have a duo of characters who fit together and play off one another so well, when the basic premise of a story is of a pair of characters working together to achieve a goal, and when those characters just mesh so perfectly and basically complete one another…trying to add another main character just puts the entire story completely out of wack and/or changes it into something unrecognizable. You can add reoccurring characters off to the side, sure. You can have a nemesis or two pop up and return every now and again. But with something like Pinky and the Brain where the main story is a small pair against incredible odds working towards a singular goal, disrupting that core relationship is going to cause a domino effect that will ruin the whole thing.

All this to say that I like this approach that’s going on here much more, even if it was completely unintended by the creative team: There is the element added of Pinky, off-screen, dating someone. It’s not something that’s brought up a lot and whenever it is brought up, Brain is irritated. We’ve seen at the end of the last episode where this development was introduced that Brain is unusually snappy, and now in the next episode he continues to be angry more often than he was before. It’s a more subtle and smooth way of seeing how these characters react if something or someone threatens to come between them, in a way that doesn’t immediately break the entire premise to pieces. Of course, it helps that Pharfignewton is…largely absent for all this and is only brought up every now and again. It’s not a perfect way to explore this kind of thing, but it’s preferable when compared to something like Pinky, Elymra, and The Brain.

However, after this episode Brain’s temper begins to de-escalate, and we won’t pick back up on this accidental “arc” for a few episodes. So to folks who are maybe a little bit bummed out about his behaviour here: don’t worry. We’re getting quite the breather next time with a very odd alternate universe skit courtesy of the Warner Siblings  messing around with character placement, as well as an entire Animaniacs episode devoted to a Pinky and the Brain skit…fantasy style!

[spookyold-saintjm]

Promises

Mandalorian x female reader

Part 16 of the Pilot series [Masterlist]

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex & sexual situations (non-explicit), canon-typical violence/death, angst. Din might break your heart in this one and I’m apologizing in advance.

a/n: Hope everyone is doing as well as you can right now! Some of you might have seen a post on uh...how this one was originally going to start BUT I had a different string of ideas so we’ll hold off on THAT for another time ;) Anyway, this one is pretty damn sad ngl. I will try to make it up with something soft next chapter. 

Also, @magichandthing​ (who seems lovely!) made this amazing and beautifully SAD art that showed up on my dash while I was writing this chapter and it was just...too on point, so I feel like it was a sign to share it. Love you all so much! x

—

Din had offered his bed to you in the past, more than once, knowing you’d be more comfortable there. Through quiet, staggered insistence, he’d claimed that he didn’t sleep much, anyways. The bunk in his quarters was, admittedly, not much better than the cot where you typically rested your head, but it was a bit bigger and at least had an actual layer of intended comfort instead of simply a flat surface extended from the wall of the Crest.

You’d always refused out of respect for allowing him a true space of secluded privacy with the small confines of the ship, a space you never intruded upon. After a while he had stopped asking, seemingly resigned to your stubbornness on the matter.

However, if the offer had meant he would be joining you, your bodies bare and flush against each other in a hazy tangle of limbs, with the sounds of months of pent-up emotion and longing emerging and echoing off the walls for far longer than perhaps either of you had intended…you might have agreed a bit sooner.

Despite this, you’d still meant to silently retreat back to your bunk once you were both were wholly spent and your eyes fought to stay open in the darkness. That was how this sort of thing had always worked before…not that anything had ever been even remotely comparable to this.  

But Din, although he hadn’t moved for some time, had pulled you back onto him in one swift, sudden motion as you were halfway standing.

“Don’t,” he mumbled, contented exhaustion somewhere between the realm of sleep and waking layering over his deep voice against your ear.

You’d been taken aback at first by his request, momentarily frozen in place, but a calm warmth spread through you as you found yourself folding into him. It was the last word spoken before you both fell victim to the beckoning slumber.

A few hours later, you awoke to the sound of life elsewhere in the ship: a low voice between some occasional soft thuds and clinks, and perhaps a faint squealing sound that had you reaching out an arm beside you.

“Din?” You asked through the hoarse voice of someone fresh to the day. You kept your eyes closed as you turned and felt for him, but you found the opposite side of the bed, his bed, cool and empty. “The kid…”

You called his name out again, waiting for a response before you were so much as tempted to open your eyes. When you were still greeted with only silence, you rubbed at your eyes before finally blinking them open, squinting at the adjustment of the dim light in the room.

It was…strange to wake up here. Especially with Din nowhere in sight. You hadn’t expected to lazily wake to a soft morning wrapped in his arms, by any means, and you understood the level of trust it took for him to leave you by yourself in his space...but you couldn’t help but feel the drop in your stomach at the fact that you were alone. Though you wondered why; this was how this normally went, wasn’t it? Waking up on your own.

No…this didn’t seem like that. Din wasn’t like that. Or, perhaps he was; you’d been fooled by people before. As far as you had seen, outside of his covert, Cara, and Karga out of necessity, he didn’t seem to have any notable relationships with others.

Except for you. Technically he was your employer, you supposed…but that had never seemed right to say. Come to think of it, you’d never considered him as even a friend. He was just always…Mando. Then Din. Someone who’d arrived in your world, who you had spent months of your life with in closer contact than you’d ever spent with anyone for such a length of time, taking jobs and repairing and upgrading the ship and trying to find a way to get a small, peculiar and very much sought-after child back home. Din was someone whose presence felt like it was meant to just exist alongside your own.

It was a dangerous thought. And the idea of it continued to chip away at the walls you’d tried so hard to keep held up inside your chest, its persistence only growing with every passing time that you caught each other’s pondering, longing stares.

You felt your skin prickling with the distinctive sense that someone was watching you, and turned to see Din standing in the doorway, fully dressed in Mandalorian armor.

Minus his cape, which was draped over your otherwise bare body. The texture of it between your fingers gave you pause as you made the silent discovery; he must have covered you with it at some point in the night, as the thin sheet over his bad was instead carelessly bunched up halfway under you.

“Hi,” you said simply as you propped yourself up on an elbow, not knowing what else to say as his gaze then gripped yours, your skin suddenly warm as he looked back at you.

Din felt as if he were pinned in place. “Hey.”

You blinked softly back up at him, and it suddenly struck him that he’d been staring. Because you were…there. Like that.

He started to turn away. “I should—”

“No.” You stopped him, but you cursed yourself at the extra hint of urgency tacked onto your voice. Din must have noticed it too, because his head was cocked ever so slightly to one side when he glanced back in your direction.

“It’s okay,” you quickly added to clarify. You stretched your legs out along the bunk as you rose into a seated position, taking his cape up along with you and holding it with one arm across your chest. “What is it?”

Din’s turned back to face you, taking a few steps further into the room. You swung your legs around so that they were draped off the side of the bunk by the time he stood closer to you. 

His shoulders visibly tensed, “Are you...” A rare hesitation wrapped itself tight around his voice, his words sticking in his throat as the air circulating through his helmet grew impossibly hot. “Did—did I…?” 

You shook your head and answered before he could finish, with a gentle smile in mercy to his pained attempt to ask you if were okay. So he, too, wasn’t used to people who stayed. Who wanted him to stay. “I’m fine.” 

Although when you’d sat up, you’d definitely felt the pressure of light bruises kneaded into your hips, and Maker only knew what attempting to walk would be like. But those were details you chose to kept silent. 

Din nodded once, the action appearing almost too formal. A beat of silence passed between you, another moment’s hesitation as he fought to shift his thoughts from being flooded over with how you looked in that moment: hair untamed, a softly glowing face and slightly tired but calm eyes that blinked back at him with a quiet patience as you waited for him to say whatever he’d originally come into the room to tell you.

“Cara agreed to take the child today,” he stated.

You you turned your head back to one side, slightly narrowing your eyebrows at him. “Why?” 

“…I don’t think it’s a good idea to take him with us.”

“Take him wh—oh.” You fell silent when you realized what he meant.

He wanted you to come with him, then. To the covert’s hiding place. Well, where it had been. He’d said the night before that he wanted to see it one last time…and now he wanted you with him.

You breathed out a small sigh as you studied him while he stood across the room from you, hands at his sides, knowing he wasn’t entirely meeting your eyes in that moment. 

“Are you sure?” You asked.

Din slowly tipped his head. “Only if you want to.”

You swallowed, your voice tight when you answered him. “Of course.”

Before either of you could say more, the sound of a loud clang followed by a series of quick, shrill chirps met your ears. You quickly stood, pulling Din’s cape tighter around you and took a few instinctive steps toward the door as another crashing sound echoed through the ship.

Din sighed, his head turned toward the direction of all the noise. “I guess he’s finished eating.”

You smiled then at the tired fondness in his tone; the thought of the child seemed to make the space around you both pleasantly warm.

A final, lingering glance passed between you, and that warmth threatened to transform into a dull heat just before Din was suddenly off investigate what the child had gotten into.

You stood looking through the doorway until he was out of sight, and a moment longer after that, biting on your bottom lip as you attempted to sift through the thoughts running through nearly every direction in your mind.

The way Din had made an effort not to get too close to you, how he had seemingly avoided your eyes when he spoke…it was a deliberate distance, a blinding contrast to how things had been just hours before, when you’d both practically begged to be as close to each other as possible under the cover of darkness.

Things were different in the daylight. They always were. But you were no longer certain whether to be thankful for it or dispirited by it.

— 

After you’d gotten ready for the day, you idly worked on a small project at the space in the corner of the lower deck you’d long ago set aside to stash materials and parts for repairs and upgrades for the Crest. Despite the fact that the child had already eaten breakfast, his ever-growing appetite meant he was still hungry, and you were splitting with him the last of a container of fresh berries, originally meant just for you, as you worked. He reached to curiously pick up a spare part that rested by your knee, but you were quick to snatch it away.

“No way, sticky-hands,” you said, not taking your eyes off your work. The child just giggled, probably because he knew you were right; he couldn’t resist squishing what seemed like nearly every other berry between his hands before eating whatever remained off his tiny claws. 

However, when his giggling shifted into a low hum, a sound that typically meant he wanted your attention for something more important, you were quick to shift away from the parts rested in your lap to look down at him as he sat at your side.

You met his eyes. Yes?

He slowly turned his head, looking over toward the closed hatch of the ship. Where Din had disappeared out of a short while before. When he looked back to you, he blinked once, twice, his head tilted to one side. A question.

Din hadn’t said much of anything to you since you’d first spoken that morning, and while it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him to be so quiet, you couldn’t help but wish he would just say something. The lines between you were blurred now, a looming uncertainty over what all that had happened the night before even meant, if anything.

How the hell the child had at least some hint of something being amiss between you, you had no idea. You never understood how he always seemed to know much more than you would have expected. But your unique way of communication with each other had taken a sudden turn in that exact direction.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You replied with a short shake of your head. You turned back to your work, not sure if you wanted to see what his eyes would tell you. But you could hear it, could feel it when he tried to press further. And that might have been worse, because the question he asked was weighted with far more than you’d thought the child might have even been capable of understanding. 

“I—I think he’s...great.” You answered, trying to keep your voice level and the warmth away from your cheeks. “I still like being here.” Understatements, almost to the point of lies. 

The child made a couple quiet chirps, commanding your eyes on him again. His ears flicked up, then down again as his lips pursed slightly out at you. It was enough to make you chuckle under your breath as you reached to scratch the top of his fuzzy head.

“Yes. I still like you too, you nosy thing,” you sighed, moving then to pet behind one of his long ears before you teasingly, lightly pinched its pointed tip. “I know you're going to use this against me later somehow.”

The child’s toothy grin and squinted eyes back at you was a horrible attempt of displaying innocence, and it made you roll your eyes in the midst of your quiet laughter.

Din returned a short while later, following behind Cara after letting her inside the ship. She took a moment to walk around, making small nods of approval as she took in the changes that had occurred since she’d last been inside. 

“Gotta hand it to you,” she looked over to where you still sat in the floor, now cleaning the sticky blues and purples of berry juice off the child’s face and hands, “You’ve got this place looking pretty damn good.” 

A smile twitched on the corner of your lips as you shrugged in teasing dismissal. “It’s my job, y’know?” 

You could feel Din’s eyes on you, now standing behind Cara. You glanced over to him, your smile remaining as a form of silent greeting. He didn’t budge. 

Instead, he simply watched as the child fidgeted in your arms, until you finally finished wiping him down and set him loose. He immediately toddled toward Cara, babbling up at her until she eventually sighed and bent down to pick him up. She kept him a few inches away from her body at first, holding him out as he continued to coo at her, until finally he reached out to grab at the long side of her hair and she had no choice but to tuck him into her opposite site, clearly holding back a laugh.

But Din was far more focused on you, this time. He hadn’t wanted to look away from you at all, hadn’t wanted to leave what he’d woken up to. But he’d realized that morning that the very thing you’d both confessed to wanting, had acted on the night before…it left too thin of a barrier between you. It was something he didn’t know how to navigate. Because it hadn’t been just anyone. It had been you.

You weren’t someone who just…left. Or someone who would transform him into a dark shadow of himself that he didn’t recognize, only then to leave him behind. He’d faced that before, and that wasn’t you. He wanted to believe that. Did believe it, didn’t care if it was against his better judgement. 

He never dared to show fear, but he was afraid. Afraid of what crossing the barrier that still lingered between you would mean, because he couldn’t keep his promise to protect you if it disappeared. The same as how he couldn’t claim the child as entirely as his own, at least not until he knew for sure that there was nowhere else better, safer in the galaxy for him to go.

Because the people closest to him were always the first to lose their lives.

And allowing that to happen would be the absolute last thing he would ever do.

— 

The heat of the early afternoon had made the tunnels hot and layered with a touch of humidity that hit you almost instantly as you entered and followed behind Din down the curving staircase, Cara and the child left behind at her home just outside of town. 

Din stopped after dropping from the final step, and the soft thud of your boots made a small echo as you stepped down beside him.

The tunnels were an intricate maze, the long halls and curving turns for the most part appearing to look near identical to one another as you’d learned the first time you’d been inside them, after Moff Gideon’s attack. 

Yet you knew Din had the layout memorized, was perhaps running through it in his head as he decided where to go first. When he moved, you followed a step behind, silence looming in the space between you as he led the way.

The last time Din had been here, he was injured, lightheaded and weak from what had so far been his closest encounter with death. He’d pleaded with Cara, with Karga and the droid and with you, to leave him behind. To let him go.

Yet, he was still here. 

As he looked around the dull, empty halls, hardly a sign of the life that once existed among them, a near-silent but persistent voice digging into the back of his mind wanted to ask him why. 

And, as always, he was quick to push it back.

Din was unreadable as you followed behind him, like whatever door had been opened just enough for you to feel even a hint of his emotions the night before had been completely shut and locked tight. He said nothing, didn’t so much as look back in your direction as you, too, surveyed the scene around you.  

The occasional few belongings, blasters, scraps of metal, bags, capes, even a few books lingered in scattered places along the way, into small rooms and side-tunnels. Some spaces Din walked by with only a glance and others his steps slowed, lingering but never completely stopping. You had questions, of course. Plenty of them. But you would wait for Din to explain, if he decided to.

You hadn’t been paying much attention the last time you’d been there, focused on little else beyond getting out and getting to safety. But now you had an opportunity to truly look around at what had for quite some time been Din’s home, at least as far as you understood it. You had gathered that perhaps he wasn’t there too terribly often, as he was often away on various jobs, but regardless it was the place he always came back to. It struck you then, the trust Din had in you to bring you here, to show you something so intimate and quietly, deeply tucked tight into his heart. This had been his one true and hidden safe space in the midst of an unforgiving galaxy. 

But now, it was only a shell of a life, of many lives, that had once existed there. The entire place felt hollow. Haunted. Just how the Empire had always left everywhere and everything they touched.

The thought made your chest ache.

Eventually you reached a sharp curve at the end of the hall, and Din paused for the first time since you’d begun your venture below. He stared straight ahead, and you could just barely see the rise and fall of his chest as his breaths seemed to grow longer, heavier. Whatever was around the corner must have been something he felt the need to prepare himself for.

You reached for him slowly, turning in toward him and laying a hand lightly against his arm. You didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to fill the space with your voice in a place where it didn’t belong.

He looked down at you, a silent expression of appreciation at your gesture, before he began to walk again. You dropped your hand and followed him at his side, around the corner and into an open, circular room.

There were a few steps leading down into the rooms entrance, thus making the ceiling higher in the wide space. Lining the edge of the room were carefully spaced standing torches. A symbol that you immediately recognized was the same one that the child now wore around his neck on a string tucked beneath his robes was, though very much faded, painted in white in the center of the space. Otherwise, like everywhere else, the room was dim and mostly bare. It was clear that this was a place that had been designated for something special, something important to the people who had lived here, and you chose to remain at the foot of the steps as Din moved further inside.

It was the only room that displayed a blatant evidence of the covert's presence in the maze beneath the town, a room that taught and commanded the utmost respect for Mandalorian culture. It was the space devoted to foundlings—their education, their eventual acceptance and integration into the covert, into the Creed...and the training that followed. It was a place of ceremony, of blood, sweat, and tears, of hardship and pride. And one that Din might have found himself venturing into more often than he realized when he would return from his various jobs throughout the system.

The girl’s face brightened, even through her tears, as she saw Din standing at the foot of the steps. He’d heard a strange noise echoing from the space, though it should have been empty at that time of day, and had gone to investigate. The young girl had been crouched on the ground, knees tucked in tight as soft sobs tumbled from her chest.

She stood and practically sprinted over to Din, her tears flowing freely again.

He had come to recognize each one of the foundlings individually, as everyone in the covert was highly encouraged to do so, although he knew none of their names. It was a closeness he did not afford himself with them. With much anyone, really.

Din had crouched down to her level before she reached him, her green eyes blurred with pink from crying, and dark brown hair falling out of the tiny, yet messy knot atop her head. She couldn’t bring herself meet his stare through the visor, and instead kept her head down and focused on an insignificant spot on the ground.

For some reason wholly unknown to him, the foundlings adored him. They were always practically nipping at his heels when he returned to the covert, asking various questions about his most recent job or his life, or floating off into stories of things they had accomplished while he had been away. Maybe it was because he was one who they all knew as one who worked so hard to provide for them, maybe it was because they knew they could fluster him fairly easily because he didn’t know how to deal with them and they loved to give him a hard time every now and then. Or maybe, it was because he listened far more than he spoke, and they knew they could tell him whatever they wanted or needed to say.

So, as always, Din waited for the foundling girl to speak first.

“I cannot do it,” she mumbled, her voice thick with the accent of her people from whom she had been raised the first few years of her life before she’d ended up with the covert not too long before that afternoon. “Everyone is better than me. I lost every round today.”

Din waited a moment, to see if she would say more, and simultaneously tried to quickly sort his thoughts into something that might help. Crying wasn’t something he dealt with particularly well.

He noticed a row of small, fresh scrapes against the girl’s knuckles as she rubbed her hands together, and when she had failed to say anything else, Din gently gestured to them. “Looks like you tried really hard.”

The girl’s nods were quick as she subconsciously reached to rub at her knees. “Yes. But I fell. A lot.”

He paused to consider her words. “Did you get back up?”

Another sniffle and a wipe across her nose with an arm. “Uh-huh.”

“Then you can keep trying.”

He never knew if the words he spoke to them would ever really mean anything, but the girl finally looked up to him, her puffy eyes softening in what seemed to be understanding as she nodded again and began to wipe her tears with the backs of her hands.

Din gave her a firm, but assuring nod.

“This is the Way.” He said to her, both as an encouragement and what he hoped would be a dismissal once he was standing again.

The girl straightened, setting her shoulders back as she returned his nod. “This is the Way.”

Before Din could even process what was happening, the girl had wrapped her arms tight for around his leg in a flash of a moment, then pulled away before running off behind him to presumably reunite with the other foundlings he’d seen rushing through the adjacent tunnel just a few minutes before.

He sighed when he turned around and saw that, as had happened many times before, the small ribbon of fabric holding up her hair had fallen loose from her head and fluttered to the ground.

A ribbon that he was staring at now, as it brushed against the tip of his boot near the center of the room.

The foundlings.

Oh, gods. The foundlings.

Din dropped to his knees.

The clang of the beskar and various gear he wore on his legs sharply echoed through the chamber. You were paralyzed at first, scanning over him from where you stood with his back to you for any sign that he was somehow hurt.

Then you saw it; the subtle upward jerk that traveled through his back and up to his slouched shoulders.

A silent sob.

You went to him then, dropping down onto your knees next to him without a second thought. 

Aside from the brief moments of panic he’d displayed just before you’d escaped down into these tunnels months before, you had never seen Din show any sign of strong emotion beyond his occasional temper toward a bounty. Not joy, definitely not sadness. You weren’t even sure if he had the capacity for it.

Yet here he was, his hands curled into fists as they rested on this thighs, his head tilted down deep. You could just barely hear the trembling in his breath as he sucked in a gasp of air, and the short, tight huff that followed.

You remained silent, though you couldn’t resist the overwhelming need to reach for him, to take one of his hands, softly holding the tight clench of his fingers between both of your palms. You felt his fist tighten beneath your touch. Although you knew that maybe you should have waited, should have allowed him to let out his pain alone…the pull that came from somewhere deep inside you, furiously drawing you to him, had been far too great for you to ignore.

He breathed in deep again, his exhale shaky. You looked to him as he finally spoke.

“They’re gone.”

His voice sucked the air from your own lungs; you’d never heard anything so broken.

In that moment, Din was truly processing all of this for the first time. You imagined that the sight of beskar armor and helmets carelessly heaped in a pile on your journey here before would have been enough to cut deep in him, and while you were certain it had…Din was very much the type to lock things away. To let his emotions have a brief, silent moment and then immediately store them somewhere else. The thought of the loss of his covert had to have crossed his mind, time and time again during your travels, but his strict discipline kept any semblance of mourning over it at bay. It was now that the dam had finally broken, that the full weight of the loss crashed down around him, leaving you helpless to watch and wait for its end alongside him.

You wouldn’t tell him it was okay. Because it wasn’t. You knew better than most anyone else that it wasn’t okay, and there was nothing you could do to remedy it except to remain beside him. 

The door that he had shut tight within him had flown open, and you could feel the heaviness of the loss, the anger and the sorrow that pulsed in him, around him, your hands over his connecting you to his feelings on an even greater level than you’d ever experienced before. Never, never had you been able to feel anyone’s pain in this way, had never felt anyone else's emotions in this way at all. Your lungs constricted, and against your will tears had formed and settled in your own eyes.

“It’s my fault.” Din’s words broke through in a voice hardly over a whisper. “I did this.”

Guilt. The guilt was what you felt the most, what wrapped itself around him the hardest. You could sense that it had lingered somewhere dark and hidden for a long time, far before the time you had known him, and it only crept out in rare moments such as the night before. But now, now it was free and threatening to eat him alive.

“It’s—” you started, but had to swallow down the tightness in your throat before you could say more. “It’s not your fault, Din.”

Another near-silent gasp.  “You don’t—” he breathed out a short, wet sigh. “Every home I’ve had, everyone…they’re all gone. And I couldn’t stop any of it.”

So it was more than the covert. You knew enough of how Din had lost his first home, and his parents; bits and pieces of the story had slowly emerged during quiet moments in hyperspace, at night once the child had fallen asleep while you disassembled and cleaned weapons. You knew that his home as a young foundling has also been attacked and destroyed, which had eventually led to the covert’s home in the tunnels beneath Nevarro, where they had remained safe and hidden for years upon years following.

Until Moff Gideon’s return. Until even this home was taken from Din, too.

“You were a child,” you said softly, slipping one of your hands away from his. You let it hover over his back, considering before you finally settled to gently rest your palm flat against the space just below his shoulder. Din didn’t stiffen, didn’t pull away, but simply allowed your touch to remain. “And this…there’s no way you could have known. None of that is your fault.”  

He slowly lifted his head to face you. It was one of fleeting the moments in which you greedily wished you could see his eyes, just for a second. So you could read them, you could meet them without a barrier and speak directly through them all the things that your mouth wouldn’t allow you to say.

Din felt everything and nothing all at once. Anger at himself, not only for letting these things happen, but for letting someone see him in a state like this, weakness that he’d never dared reveal to anyone since he’d sworn the Creed. Sorrow for the realization that, even if some of the covert had by some miracle managed to escape, so many, so many had still been lost. And he had no way of even beginning to find whoever might remain. If they remained. Helplessness, because even though he told himself he’d never, ever let it show that it was something that affected him in even the slightest, he was alone.

But when he finally looked at you…it made things different. Because he wasn’t alone on this course he’d suddenly been set on just a few months before. And the blinding fear that he would be hopeless to stop something from happening to you or the child was threatening to tear him apart right in front of you. What good was a promise that he would protect you both if he wasn’t capable of fulfilling it?

“Talk to me,” you finally whispered, curling your fingers tighter in reassurance over his hand. It was almost desperation, but you needed to hear him say something. Had to capture even a fragment of an idea of what he was thinking.

You caught the slightest shake of his head before he spoke. “You, and the kid, you’re all I…” He took a near-shuddering breath. “If something happens to him, to you…I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.” 

The last words gave you pause. You knew that Din would give his life without question for the child if it came down to it. But for him to even think to care about you in such a way that it would hurt him so much to lose you…

It was the very same way you felt about him.

Any other doubts, any words yet to be spoken or anything else between you were either proved wrong or simply didn’t matter in that moment. Not any more.

You moved, turning so that your knees nearly touched, and you could look at him face-to-face. Or at least, as close as you could get to it. You reached for his other hand, encouraging him to separate his fists and instead wrap his fingers around yours. 

“I told you before, I’m not going anywhere. I made that choice for myself.” You blinked away the tears that again threaten to blur your vision. “I’m going to see this out with you. We’re going to get him home. And if we don’t…then, it’s like you said. We’ll figure something else out.”  

You forced a small smile. “Besides, the credits you owe me for all this work are really starting to stack up.”

Din breathed a huff of a weak laugh, in utter disbelief at you. At what his life had become. 

There were more words to be said, questions to be asked. They lingered just beneath the surface and begged to be spoken, to be made real. But it wasn’t the time for them. Not yet.

You sat for a moment, looking to each other in silence. You slowly felt the heaviness of the room lift, until Din breathed out a sigh, no longer struggling for air.

“We should keep going. I want to make sure nothing important was left behind.”

You nodded, relief flooding through you. While the pain you had felt from him didn’t vanish, it seemed to lighten then, to tuck itself away into a space where it could reside a bit more peacefully. You hoped that would remain true.

You were alone in the world, had been for some time. And while you knew deep down that you probably shouldn’t allow yourself to feel it, being with Din and the child had maybe made things a little less lonely. At least for now, taking care of the child and ensuring his safety bound the two of you together. Once that was gone, once Din had fulfilled his duty of reuniting him with his people...not only would you be alone, but so would he.

You silently made a promise to yourself then, too, unbeknownst to the Mandalorian who knelt across from you in that moment. A promise that, whatever it meant when the time came, you wouldn’t let him be alone. You wouldn’t leave him until you knew he wouldn’t have to feel that pain again. Even, if he wanted, that meant that you didn’t leave at all.

Din slowly rose to his feet. You followed behind, one of his hands still wrapped around yours as he helped you from the ground.

And as you made your way out of the room, he didn’t let go.

—

tag list: @nadia-rosea​ @capsironunderoos​ @electricprincess888​ @smolashie​ @iwatobiswimbros​ @backontheolebullshit​ @100kindsofblake​ @pandacookieowo​ @biolo-tea @baby-yodas-cool-aunt​ @heyitsjaybird​ @kristalhi​ @edgy-hufflepuff-bro​ @dirty-dancefl00r5​ @fastidious-and-a-mess​ @officiallydeceased​ @sunkissed-winter​ @crushingonmando​ @ah-callie​ @wrinkled-daydream @holamor​ @din-and-juice​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @goburnurflowercrown @mabelleen​ @b0n-chann​ @the-obsession-ship​ @operation-spot​ @atletino​ @immundusspiritu​ @jellyfishpoptart​​ 

[argentdandelion]

How To Get Your Number Down to Zero (Part 3 of 3)

How to Achieve Emotional Growth

Emotional Vulnerability

In contrast, Simon and, initially, Amelia are limited in their emotional expressions around others, especially in their sadness. Amelia seems to disapprove of crying: she mockingly tells Tulip to not cry. When Simon cries in the “We won’t tell Simon” memory reveal scene, he cries silently while everyone is asleep. Though deeply upset in Le Chat Chalet, he doesn’t cry; his responses are largely anger and obvious frustration. The one time he cries when others might be able to see him is after he seemingly kills Grace. He laughs evilly, cries within seconds, and tries to laugh it off while pressing his hands over his ears, as if trying to block something out (a conscience, perhaps). Indeed, though Simon was baffled, frustrated, and angered at Grace’s sudden changes in behavior, he didn’t confront her about it with anything but bafflement, frustration, and anger, when he confronted her at all.

Later in “Vulnerability: The Key to Better Relationships”, Mark Manson states: “And it’s a shining example of vulnerability because you’re saying “I have a problem. I’m not perfect, but that’s okay. I can deal with it, and I will deal with it.” In a scene set seven months after she either enters or leaves the train, Tulip says she’s “ready for anything”, suggesting Mark Manson’s words characterize a successful passenger. In contrast, Mark Manson’s words certainly do not describe Simon; he rarely admitted he had a “problem”.

Discarding of Concepts, Desires, or Motives

It seems passengers can get their numbers to 0 by letting go, giving up, moving on, or otherwise no longer caring about or being badly affected by a particular issue the memory tapes suggest is highly important. Passengers who could do that eventually got their numbers to zero, while those who didn’t, Amelia and Simon, ended up, respectively, still trapped and maxed-out (and dead).

However, it’s hard to determine letting go, giving up, moving on, or otherwise no longer caring about an issue is the cause for all instances of numbers going down. Indeed, if one thinks of Jesse’s issue as “caring too much about what others think of him/trying to be friends with everyone”, he got his number to zero by caring: actions motivated by caring about Lake. When Jesse confidently, even aggressively, rejects Simon's attempt to soothe him and downplay what was happening, shows a spine in the face of peer pressure from the “cool kids”, and tells Lake “I got you. We’re getting out of here”, his number goes from 22 to 0, and it’s unclear which action did this or how much of an effect each action had.

Re-Evaluation

Successful passengers re-evaluate their beliefs, values, perspectives, perceptions, or behavior. Tulip had the self-awareness to realize she had distorted her own memories to show her life pre-divorce as entirely happy, Jesse re-evaluated the cool kids that put his brother in a dangerous man test, and Grace came to realize that denizens were people, causing much of her Apex beliefs to collapse.

Amelia apparently got her number so high by repeating the same maladaptive coping mechanism over and over for 33 years: she “ran away” from adapting to a life without Alrick. She says “there’s a hole in the universe where Alrick used to be”, but it seems that for 33 years, she didn’t try to patch over that hole with anything but a perfect recreation of her life before the train.

In contrast to Tulip, who realized she was wrong about how she thought about her parents’ divorce, Simon never admitted he was wrong. (Him telling Grace “You were right not to trust [Amelia]!” aside) He did not even quietly re-evaluate or discard his Apex beliefs and beliefs about numbers, despite repeatedly facing evidence it was wrong and seeing all the harm it had accomplished. In a way, he “ran away” from his problems and denied most of his problems even existed, with the notable exception of his relationship problems with Grace. Furthermore, the rarity of him confronting his trauma, turmoil or insecurities trapped Simon in a dogmatic and aggressive spiral until his number maxed out and he, briefly, became unhinged from the weight of his actions until he was killed.

Specific Actions

It’s hard to tell if there are any standardized actions of getting one’s number down by a certain value or percentage of the whole, even for the same passenger.

Although “kicking the toad” (in The Toad Car) clearly has a value of 5 for Jesse (29 changes to 34), his number seems to go up by 2 (29 to 31) when Alan Dracula strongly kicks the toad, and it seems to go up by only 1 when he halfheartedly kicks a cube in “The Mall Car”. It’s possible “letting the toad go free” brought Jesse’s number down by 17, or by more than half its original number. But the preceding sequence wasn’t just letting the toad go free: Jesse freed the toad to ensure he, M.T., and Alan Dracula could escape the Flecs, since The Toad Car required kicking the toad to leave the car. The real number-lowering reason could have been “stick with Lake and help her out, even knowing she broke Mirror Law and has been lying about her history”, letting the toad go free to ensure he and his friends could escape was just the particular way he carried that out.

Tulip’s journey also supports the idea the amount a number drops is context-specific or largely unpredictable. Tulip’s number goes down when she recalls a happy memory with her dad, but being in her tape, which was full of happy memories with her parents (both true and false ones) didn’t bring her number down until she confronted the false memories. Notably, she had tweaked the particulars of the happy memory of fixing go-karts with her dad to support her idea of "work first, play later", and her number only goes down when she acknowledges parts of her memories which don't fit that idea."

People's numbers might be dependent on other people, in the sense of close relationships with others. Certainly, passenger-denizen interaction can lower a number (see Grace with Hazel and Tuba), but so can passenger-passenger interaction. For example, in the “Hey Ho Whoa” car, when Amelia said she didn’t really want to ask for help, but really appreciated Grace’s cooperation, her number went down by at least three digits.

Complicating things, there are times when number responses seem to have a time delay. When the freed toad leaves Jesse in “The Toad Car”, Jesse’s number goes from 31 to 14 instantly. Jesse’s number goes from 22 to 0 after a sequence where he confidently (even aggressively) rejects Simon's attempt to soothe him and downplay what was happening, shows a spine in the face of peer pressure from the “cool kids”, and tells M.T. “I got you. We’re getting out of here.” It’s possible he did several number-lowering things that could have been counted separately, or a single very number-lowering thing with a time delay.

It’s possible a number only goes down if an action, thought or belief “sinks in” or if passengers are aware of what they’re doing. When Tulip tells Amelia she can still bring her number down, Amelia's number goes down before she even speaks, therefore suggesting even thinking in the right direction can get someone's number down.

[zeravmeta]

fuck it. soma cruz fgo servant profile bc i make my own content

Servant: / Servant Class: Soma Cruz / Alter Ego

Origin: / Region: Castlevania Series / Japan, 2035

Alignment: Lawful Neutral(?) “Yeah, not sure how I classify as Lawful given my past life, but whatever.”

Aliases: The Dark Lord, Dracula, Soma Cruz

Parameters: STR (B) / END (A+) / AGL (B+) / MP (EX) / LUK (A) / NP (???) 

Class Skills: Authority of Beasts (Fake), Core of Chaos (A), One Who Severs Fate (A)

Character Info: “In order for God to be perfectly Good, there must always exist an embodiment of Chaos, a Dark Lord to emerge from the evil of humanity’s hearts.”

For one thousand years, the Belmont bloodline had opposed the terrible night that Count Dracula would bring with his powers. After generations of suffering, the Belmont’s latest mantle bearer, Julius Belmont, along with their generational allies, the Belnades clan and a nameless soldier, had managed to permanently defeat Dracula with the help of the Hakuba Clan’s shrine magics. Severing his connection to his power and sealing Castlevania, the embodiment of his power, within a solar eclipse, Dracula had finally faced his demise in 1999, prophesied by Nostradamus one millennium ago. Thus, the strongest Dark Lord had fallen, his throne empty and awaiting a new master.

In 2035, Soma Cruz had visited the Hakuba Shrine to meet with his childhood friend Mina, unaware of the birthright he would claim.

Skills:

Chaos Ring A: An extremely powerful construct that channels the very essence of Chaos. It can only be found by the one who can traverse and control the Chaos Realm, the Dark Lords personal right. Wearing it grants the unlimited magical power of the Chaos Realm, but actual output depends on the user. If the Demon King’s Ring is the symbol of Dracula and his reign, then the Chaos Ring could be considered the symbol of Soma and his new beginning.

Thematic narratives aside, it’s a very convenient tool for Soma.

“It’s weird, but it feels like…it was made for me. Almost like a welcome gift.”

[5->3 Turns] [Charge NP (20%->30%), Increase NP Gain (10%->25%) (3 Turns), Gain a Delayed buff 1 turn after skill use (Unremovable): [Charge NP (20->30%)]

Armament Master D: Soma is extremely proficient at using any and all forms of weaponry. Due to Dracula’s vast reach, Soma has a vast number of different modern and mythical weapons and gear at his disposal, notable weapons including Excalibur (sealed in the stone), Hrunting, Caladbolg, Mjolnir, and even a Positron Rifle, to name a few. However, one weapon unique to Soma is the Claimh Solais, an Irish sword of light mentioned in many legends and defining the archetype of “Sword of Light.” It provides a great boost to parameters and is surprisingly light weight despite its size. Another unique weapon he wields is the Valmanway, the “Blessed Wind” that is always ‘cutting’ even when still.

(The rank is D because despite his proficiency, Soma has never had any formal training.)

“I mean, it’s just a sword, right? How complex is it? You can just swing it and things die. Though…considering I have ol’ Drac’s memories…sorta, maybe I’m just remembering it?”

[8->6 Turns] [Increase Atk (10%->20%) (3 Turns), Gain Critical Stars (5->15), Increase Critical Star Absorption (3000%) (3 Turns), Increase Critical Damage (10%->20%) (3 Turns), Apply Special Attack against Sky, Star and Beast attribute enemies (20%->40%) (3 Turns)]

Power of Dominance (EX): Soma’s inheritance from Dracula, or more fittingly, the Chaos Entity opposite to God. The Power of Dominance is a unique ability that grants a complete mastery over the abilities of any and all souls Soma can acquire from the enemies he defeats. All the monsters that Dracula unleashed in his crusade against humanity are the countless souls under his domain, even that of Death itself, and their powers rightly belong to him.

Soma can differentiate between the types of Soul Arts he uses, and this reflects accordingly in his Noble Phantasm.

“I never wanted this power, but I guess I’m stuck with it. I’ll always carry the target on my back, but at least I can look awesome as hell while doing it, I suppose.”

[5->3 Turns] [Decrease Enemy Charge by 1 (20%->50%), Select own NP Command Card’s type between Quick, Arts or Buster for 3 Turns. Effect of NP changes depending on which Command Card Type is selected. This skill is immune to debuff effects (such as Skill Seal)]

Noble Phantasm:

Advent of Sorrow – He Who Severed His Fate Against Chaos and God / Anti-Divine, Anti-Self / Rank (???)

A manifestation of Soma’s power truly made his own, separate from the title of Dark Lord and Dracula. Having defeated the Chaos Entity, he managed to sever its connection to his soul, and be saved from his Fate. Even so, he carries the Power of Dominance with him always, and the countless souls and followers of Chaos always wait and offer themselves unto Soma to lead and command them. In his own imperfect way, neither holy nor demonic.

After all, he’s only human.

(Note: If used by the true Count Dracula, this would be considered an Anti-Humanity NP)

[Type: Buster] – [Deals massive damage to a single enemy (1200%->2400%), Chance to Decrease Charge by 1 (80%->100%). Overcharge: Increases own Buster Card Effectiveness (20%) (1 Turn) and NP Damage (1 Turn) (20%) (Activates First)]

[Type: Arts] – [Deals heavy damage to all enemies (400%->800%), Chance to decrease Atk (15%->25%) and Critical Chance (20%->30%). Overcharge: Inflict Curse (5 Turns).]

[Type: Quick] – [Apply Debuff Immune (1 Time), and Restore HP each turn for self (3 Turns) (1000->1500), and Increase NP Gauge each turn for self (3 Turns) (5%). Overcharge: Apply Def Up for all allies (3 Turns) (25%->50%).]

Bond Lines: 

Bond 1: “Heh, thanks for having me! I’m still not too sure about how all this stuff works here, but if you need a monster taken down, I’m your guy.”

Bond 2: “So the rest of those dudes call you ‘Master’? Kind of awkward, but I guess they’re magical familiars at the end of the day. What? So am I? Sorry but, vampiric powers aside, I’m just a normal guy. I was even in University before I got dragged here. I’ll just call you [name] for now.”

Bond 3: “Do you like curry? Arikado said I shouldn’t be using these monster souls for dumb stuff, but they don’t mind. They always talk to me and really want to help me out wherever I am. Except Death, that guy sucks. He’s always breaking into my home and trying to convince me to become the next Dark Lord and to ‘accept my throne’ and stuff.”

Bond 4: “…It scares me, sometimes. Knowing not only what I am, but what I’m very capable of.”

Bond 5: “Y’know…you could always come back with me to my world, if you want to escape. I’ll take you to meet Mina, and Hammer and Yoko and Julius and Arikado and…Hm. Sorry. I know you can’t abandon this world, it’s where you grew up. There’s…a lot of people here who love you. You should always remember that and hold it close. It saved my life when I thought I couldn’t go on, and I know it will also save yours.”

Voice Lines:

(1): “I’m glad this place is a lot simpler than the castle. That place had so many hidden rooms and puzzles that I felt like I was going insane…No, as a matter of fact, DON’T tell me about all the secret workshops here.”

(2): “Hm? What’s up? I’m just relaxing here. Sorry if I’m taking up space. It’s nice to just take a moment.”

(3): “No, no, don’t worry. Even if I could, I’m not the type of guy to just go around stealing souls. I only do that to monsters, and even then, they become complacent once they return to me. I could show you some of the fun ones, like the Skeleton Gardener, if you’d like.”

Likes: “What I like? Curry! Oh, and Mina. She’s been with me for my whole life. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Dislikes: “This is gonna sound cliché, but garlic. It just tastes bad.”

Event: “Whoa, a party! Let’s go, I’m super bored cooped up in here.”

About The Holy Grail: “Wish granting? No thanks, I’ve read a ton of comics and things always go wrong. What? Of course, it’s a valuable source!”

Summon Quote: “Yo! My name is Soma Cruz. I’m just a regular high school student. Um…Where am I, exactly?”

Happy Birthday: “Happy Birthday, [name]! I’m so gonna throw you the coolest party ever! I’ll even invite Mina…If, uh, if that’s cool with you?”

(King Hassan): “D-Death!? Why are you…Oh. Uh, sorry about that. You reminded me of...someone. I’m sure you’re a cool guy underneath all that armor.”

(Vlad/Vlad III (EXTRA)): “Huh. So, in this world, the legend of Dracula is just that? A legend? Well, that’s a huge relief. I’m not exactly the kingly type.”

(Gilgamesh/Gilgamesh (Caster)): “Hey [name], could you give me a hand? This gold idiot keeps saying I stole his weapons, but they’re mine! …Hey! Stay back with those portal things! Someone, help!!!”

(Scathach): “Jeez, I bet Arikado will get along with that slave driver. Seriously, Arikado’s method of teaching me my powers amounted to locking me in a room with monsters and a pocketknife. Huh? She’s stomping over here!? [name], help me!”

(Marie Antionette): “I don’t know why, but…Looking at you makes me sad. I’m sorry.”

(Sessyoin Kiara): “Master, this lady is coming onto me WAY too hard. She keeps telling me to ‘embrace what I am’ and junk. I already get enough of that crap from cultists back home.”

(Sakata Kintoki/Astolfo/Romulus/Romulus-Quirinus/Ashwatthama): “Hey, you’re a pretty cool dude, huh? Finally, someone with some style!”

(Amakusa Shirou): “Ugh, you remind me of Fortner. And stop using rosaries around me, I’m not Satan, you jerk!”

(Mephistopheles): “Please, leave me alone. I’m not evil, nor will I ever be the Dark Lord. Just because I have those powers doesn’t mean I’m defined by them. Also, the alarm clock you gave me exploded, so I don’t think you’re all that trustworthy anyways.”

(Beni Enma): “Aww, you’re so cute...Wait, from the Underworld? A yokai? Guess you’re one of mine, then. If you want, I can loan you some Skeleton Waiters for your chain.”

(Any Avenger-Class Servant): “Hey, you guys are kinda like me! Everyone says you’re evil, but you’re actually really nice!”

(Arcueid Brunestud): “Master, that girl is shooting me some pretty weird looks....Huh? Reincarnating vampire? Oh, I guess I’d look pretty weird in that case. That’s not her fault, though. Maybe I’ll go say hi.”

QQABB Deck:

Buster Card: 2 Hit / -Soma raises Excalibur (still in the stone) and smashes it into the enemy-

Quick Card: 5 Hit / -Soma holds Valmanway in front of him, turns around, and multiple slashes envelop the enemy-

Art Card: 3 Hit / -Soma does two horizontal strikes, then a third overhead strike with Claimh Solais-

Extra Card: 6 Hit / -Soma punches twice, does a spin-attack with Claimh Solais, then jumps back and fires his Positron Rifle-

Level Up: “Whew…I feel so powerful.”

Ascension 1: “Whoo! Good job, [name].” 

Ascension 2: “This…This is just like then…[name], maybe don’t do this anymore.”

Ascension 3: “Please…stop. I don’t know if I can pull myself back this time…”

Ascension 4: “I see. Well…as long as you’re by my side, I’ll never succumb. So please…don’t die.”

Battle Start ½: “Just how many monsters out there!? In any case, let’s do this thing!” / “I’ll carry the mantle and defeat this terrible night!”

Skill ½: “Bullet, set…Enchanted, set…Guardian, set…” / “How about some of this!”

Attack Selection ½/3: “Hmm.” / “Seriously!?” / “Nice.”

Attack ½/3: “Hraagh!” / “Take this!” / “You’re going down!”

Extra Attack: “Let’s see you handle THIS!”

Noble Phantasm Selection ½: “Are…Are you sure?” / “I’ll trust you on this.”

Noble Phantasm: “I will never be the Dark Lord…You, God, and The World will just have to deal with it!”

Noble Phantasm Damage: “I won’t…Submit...!”

Regular Damage: “Gah!”

Defeated ½: “Mina….” / “Julius…our promise…”

Battle Finish ½: “That was a close one…” / “Anyone need some healing? I have some spare spoiled milk…Oh wait, none of you have a Ghoul soul, huh?”

[monkey-network]

My Issues with Butch Hartman

Call this the sequel to my post on Mr. Enter. But honestly compared to Enter, Butch Hartman has made himself look far worse in so little time. Not only with how he uses his influence, but he basically showed his true colors not long after he left Nickelodeon. With Enter, the worst you can say about him is his opinions on media and his politics. With Hartman, there is a surprisingly lot more under his belt that made the hate towards him .

To preface this, while I’m gonna shit on this dude, I’m not shaming anyone who still likes his past content. With that said, bibbity Boppity boopity. Let’s look at the fucking scoopity.

The Telltale Oaxis

This really takes the cake as the scummiest thing Butch has done. Words and opinions can be one thing, but using your platform to basically trick some people out of their money for a project you abandoned for the most part grinds me gears a lot more. As bad as his marketing strategy was, at least Enter provided effort in his indiegogo project beforehand for god’s sake. Oaxis is one of the most pitiable crowdfunded projects I’ve seen.

It’s nearly two years since Butch got Oaxis funded and what have gotten beyond pure dead silence. Nearly two years and little to no significant updates for Oaxis’s Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, his Youtube, or the site’s official account. No wait, that last part’s kind of a lie. They had monthly updates on the official site up until September 2019. Could’ve posted this on their social medias but you take what you can get. 

The major takeaway from the updates, in all fairness, was that the kickstarter wasn’t enough and they still need to raise more funds for the service. The “capital-building” stage he calls it where he’s looking for more investors in addition to getting actual programs onto the service. That and Oaxis is a big vision for Butch and his wife in spite of not only giving up the monthly updates and basically secluding any mention of Oaxis from any place else. That’s basically it and I legit feel sorry for everyone that couldn’t get their refund back.

This isn’t HBO Max or Disney+ where you just expect them to have something together after their initial announcement because they’re already media conglomerates, this is an independent project. One that people, your fans included Butch, put over 200K thinking you would at least give people something. But beyond a “sizzle reel” that said nothing aside from Oaxis going to be a thing, you have presented jack after two years. I don’t expect the ins and outs of every business meeting with executives, but staying silent about everything except for monthly newsletters that offer very little encouraging progress and hasn’t updated since September of last year is not a good sign. And I’m especially hard on this topic, Butch, because this is the biggest point where it is seriously hard to trust you. It’s not criticizing your ego when after having too many cracks in your story, you really haven’t put your money where your mouth is.

I don’t wanna presume the guy’s given up on it, hoping everybody would forget it after a while, but he’s really put the effort in to make Oaxis feel like a afterthought. I’m not an expert in business, but even I can believe that after his non-apology for not being upfront with his initial intentions, that he’d try to provide updates on the project to not come off as the scam artist people have accused him as. Even with his Youtube channel that I’ll get to later, I don’t think it’s hard consistently posting about your so called vision if you have that much faith in its success. You’ve already gotten thousands of bucks initially with the crowdfund, people deserve more than your pitiful wishful platitudes and I unfortunately can’t believe you’ll have anything after a few years. It’s not that everyone forgot about it, but you mostly took the money and ran. If Butch pops up with something if he sees this somehow, I’ll eat that crow, but I sincerely doubt it after this long. Like at least post something on the Twitter, I get depressed just looking at it; that account is the textbook definition of famine.

The Childhood Reposter

I’ve brought up Butch’s youtube channel a couple times, and it’s when every time I look at it, it’s a little sad. When it comes to major creators, I typically think that after finishing their projects they’d move to newer things. People like Lauren Faust, Mike Judge, CH Greenblatt are all continuing to make new works under differing studios while new creators are getting the spotlight. Butch though? I mean, he has a new cartoon that I swear you’ve never heard about but other than that, the dude looks like he has little to say for himself nowadays beyond the 2 shows he’s famous for, Fairly Odd Parents and Danny Phantom. I would’ve added TUFF Puppy and Bunsen is a Beast but I can see that those two aren’t his major players seeing as how they’re rarely ever mentioned on the channel.

If it’s not some watchmojo level meme video, almost every other video is about either two of those shows in some varied fashion. I get that he “created your childhood” and made credulous bank from Nickelodeon, but it’s like Danny Phantom is all that stands between him and having an audience. That and drawing anime characters in his style which is... y’know, I’ll leave that to you. It’s like he retired and yet goes on about the good old days like a fluctuating ego. He’s still making a cartoon but to him that’s hardly a factor compared to his known successes.

Personally, I wouldn’t want to just be known as the guy who made two of your countless beloved cartoons. Not that that’s all he talks about, but it’s the insistence of his legacy that unfortunately gives me Bojack Horseman vibes. He no doubt has a good thing going but I believe that this isn’t gonna last. Just saying, dude has 850K subscribers and unless it’s a real hook like with the recent Danny Phantom/Jake Long death battle, he’s hardly getting a good fraction of views anymore. There’s only so many times you can milk Danny Phantom as your masterpiece before everyone moves on.

The Holy Boast

I wanna make this short because I’m not a huge talker of religion, but I stand to say that you should NOT, under any circumstance, believe BPD, PTSD, autism, fucking heart & kidney failure can be “cured” or “healed” through sermons of prayer. This here? This is genuinely something else.

https://www.healingjourneys.today/

For clarity, this was a gospel conference hosted by Butch and his wife and yes, they openly proclaim that BPD, austism, and heart disease can be cured through prayer of holy worship.

Now, I’m gonna give a full disclosure right here because this most certainly biases my point here, like I’m gonna own this. But my grandpa was a religious man that suffer from health problems. He notably prayed to carry on, yes, but at the same time he sought medical help. Even he told me that prayers wasn’t gonna keep the pacemaker going, he went to the doctors and actually did more than read the bible to improve himself. He unfortunately passed, but he was in his 70s and I honestly couldn’t believe, as hard as I try, that he was gonna live forever. My grandpa would’ve no doubt died far earlier if he followed this conference’s logic.

My point is that this is personally unsettling. I seriously cannot believe this is how autism and religion works and it blows my mind that him and his wife thought this conference was a suitable idea. I’m not bashing them as christians, but thinking mental disorders and bodily diseases can be done away with motivational seminars because that’s basically what they are is a legit slap to the face. And the seedling idea that they’ve done this before blows my mind.

The Financial Flaker

This is very recent and everything is generally explained in the 12 minute video but long story short: Butch hired an artist and never paid them for their work. The artist in question, Kuro, describes what happened between him and Butch in this video and provides receipts. Can’t really add anything to this myself beyond this just builds to the idea that Butch cannot be trusted as a professional business maker. I believe he still has people working for him but from this video, it tells me that Hartman will gladly use those lower than him in favorable pursuits and will gladly throw ignorance when he wants to because his cartoon veteran status presents that shield from thinking he can do no wrong, which can mean throttling his hires.  Let’s end this.

The Conclusion

When I get down to it, Butch is almost a Machiavellian character in a way. It’s amazing how much the trust people have had with Hartman have evaporated in less than a couple years. It’s amazing how much his ego has truly shown after he stopped being a namestay in Nickelodeon. Haven’t even mentioned the times he arrogantly deflected criticism because he was a namestay at Nick and how a couple who’ve worked with are well aware of his ego. I can’t help but believe that even after everything, he claims ignorance to his fall from grace and keeps going. Even when more and more are knowing his true self, he’s mostly just doing what he’s been doing for the past few years.

It’s respectable in a way, but shows that the world will move on without him. Again, if you like Danny Phantom and Fairly OddParents, I won’t judge you for it nor say you should be ashamed. This isn’t about cancelling Butch, or get him to stop spreading whatever wacky things he believes in. It’s my personal take of how this man whom I once respected because of what he made before has lost every bit of that from me. It really feels like he grew up with that “I Created Your Childhood” mentality being a 4 time showrunner for almost a couple decades. And when he finally left Nickelodeon, I guess the chance to be that stand out self-made success got to his head and he finally showed his true colors. I now find it hard to believe Butch cares about the little guy that were his fans as much as he rides off his success and others who tolerate him. As such, like JK Rowling, more are seeing this side of him and leaving him behind. Meanwhile Butch is gonna chug on until he just loses steam. It’s kinda like Icarus where the guy will make every effort to fly to the sun. But sooner or later, he’s gonna fall, and in the end I doubt anyone’s gonna care to see it. I know he won’t.

[lukeyhughes]

so the other day i reblogged a post and vagued about my issues with gk’s framing of iraqi tragedies in the tags, which was then replied to and that reply was circulated. while the reply was awesome/insightful/interesting i feel like my original point sorta got lost in the shuffle. i wasnt going to make a post about this for a bit but i feel like its been consuming my thoughts all day so i’ll elaborate what i meant under the cut! 

gen kill is david simon show, so like all david simon shows the thesis is “people exist in inside of a broken system.” in this case, the broken system is the marine corps chain of command and the people are the marines who have to carry out senseless orders. this is shown in many ways, including pointless dangerous missions (see: the bridge, danger close, etc.), how capable enlisted men are vs. most officers, how the “only good officer” nate is punished for rational choices, and how the marines have their spirits crushed because they are forced to senselessly kill iraqi civilians.

when i was in first year of undergrad i took an african studies class that in one seminar problematicized coverage of the Rwandan Genocide: how many times have you heard/read a Romeo Dallaire interview/account? how many times have you read/heard an interview from a genocide survivor? how many times have you seen pictures of bodies/skulls of genocide victims? the answer for the average person is a lot, hardly ever, a lot. with the iraq invasion, the questions would be: how many times have you heard the accounts of coalition soldiers about the iraq war across media types? how many times have you heard accounts of it from the iraqi civilian perspective? how many times have you seen statistics regarding the amount of iraqi civilian casualties? a lot, hardly ever, a lot.

that is all to say that in western media/society we are very comfortable listening to white narratives and just seeing brown bodies, which translates into only hearing white narratives of the tragedies of the deaths of others in foreign countries. in generation kill, iraqi civilian casualties/fatalities/tragedies are framed so that we feel sympathy for the marines that caused them as opposed to those suffering. that is not to say that we as the audience do not feel sympathy (i certainly do!) but it is because of our own internal empathy, not the narrative framing of the show.

let’s take a look at three of the biggest cases of iraqi civilian tragedy and how they’re framed in the show:

first, when rudy goes up to the roadblock and sees the dead little girl in episode 4. we get quite a few shots of the father’s shell-shocked face, but just as many are shots of rudy’s horror/sadness; we watch him walk away from behind from rudy’s perspective and we see that rudy is unable to look away from them. rudy didn’t actually have anything to do with it (aside from abetting i suppose), but even when he gets back to camp the show makes sure to illustrate how affected by it he is, ignoring brad and ray who call out to him. this one is actually surprisingly gk’s best example of eliciting sympathy for iraqi casualties; however, the focus of the scene is still on rudy and the father’s reaction is still mostly used to contribute to rudy’s guilt/horror.

the next scene is the little shepherd boys who were shot by trombley while out with their camels. we see the mom crying over her son, but its basically background noise and is if anything used to further the marines’ (particularly brad and doc bryan to a lesser extent) guilt at causing the situation. we know this because her actions don’t exist independently: they are used for the marines to react to. we also get considerably more shots of marines looking on in horror than her crying about her son. brad’s guilt/sadness about the subject is dwelled on for about twenty minutes over the next two episodes, longer than any of the actual victims’ screen-time dedicated to their feelings combined.

the worst scene is the man in the white car, which sets off the main drama for the next episode. we get why walt did it- the show goes out of its way to make sure that we do- but at the end of the day a man is still dead, likely for no reason. in the aftermath we get about a hundred heartbreaking shots of walt’s shocked face, with a few of brad thrown in as well. on the other hand, we get no shots of the people in the car being horrified at seeing someone they know lobotomized. we just see them run away, no sadness no horror no nothing: from the show’s narrative perspective, this man’s death has no impact on anybody except for walt and the other marines. to make matters worse the man’s face is only shown when the marines notice how horrifyingly disfigured his body is; to me this is robbing the real man of his dignity even in death. 

let’s take a step back and look at gen kill’s general portrayal of iraqis. we don’t really get to see the marines interact with civilians until they reach baghdad when they go into rundown neighbourhoods. here, the iraqi men are portrayed as greedy and dumb, cutting in front of children and not understanding that there are other types of government. that’s not to say that that didn’t happen in real life- i’m sure it did- but it’s essentially the ONLY view of iraq civilians we get: ignorant, greedy, backwards, etc. deadass the only sympathetic iraqi characters in episode 7 are children, where we get a couple of UNICEF-esque shots of doc bryan holding crying kids to drive home that guilt factor. i bring this up because it means that the iraqi characters are not written so that you feel bad for them or empathize with their terrible situation. instead, the narrative wants you to empathize with the marines (in this case, particularly nate) who feel guilty for causing this chaos that they can’t do anything to fix it. 

the only other time iraqi civilians even have lines is when a refugee women tells brad about how he is destroying her home, but even then the point of that isn’t really her pain but how brad feels guilty/ashamed about what the usmc (an institution that is part of identity more than anyone else) is doing that; also she’s attacking brad who really had nothing to do with the baghdad situation and already feels guilty about other things, so its just creating more material for brad’s identity/guilt crisis and our sympathies for it.

all of this to say is that in basically every single case civilian tragedies don’t exist in the narrative on their own: they are used for the marine main characters to react to: the village. the truck crew. the men at the roadside. even the syrian student.

also @sunnygreys replied to some tags i made alluding to this issue. you should read what they wrote bc it’s a really interesting counterweight to what i’m saying and offers a different perspective. but anyway basically they mention certain lines where people are like “no ones forcing us to be here.” particularly notable was when godfather says that no one is forced to be here because they’re all volunteers in episode 3. my view of this has always been that saying that is ignorance on his part and another symptom of the broken command system. godfather chose to be career military,  he chose to accept the mission, he chose to change the ROE, etc: there was no gun to his head. for the enlisted men, the ones on the bottom who actually carried out the mission that injured the boys, they are pretty much being forced to be there by their circumstances. out of all the marines we interact with in the series, im pretty sure brad is the only enlisted man who comes from wealth and by extension had other options, while most others either implicitly or explicitly grew up in impoverished/unstable households: poverty is the new draft. thats sorta between the lines, but i imagine david simon knows that because of his previous work on poverty. what isnt between the lines is that the command system DOES force men in lower ranks to “be there” and carry out order: they can get NJPed for disobeying, they sign contracts that they’ll be dishonourably discharged and lose their benefits if they break, etc. there’s no gun to their head physically but metaphorically its pretty close. to me at least, those lines are not narratively placed to make us sympathize less with the marine main characters but instead to make us sympathize with them even more, because it shows how disconnected command really is. david simon is a huge dick irl but he’s a really clever writer.

again, i reiterate that we as the audience likely feel sympathy for the iraqi population because for most people its naturally sad when people die/get injured/etc. i think a lot of points i made and ones made by @sunnygreys can be mutually true, but the main difference being that i really don’t believe that gk’s intention was to make us step back and reflect on our sympathy with the “oppressors:” i really do think that’s who the show intends for us to sympathize with most based on their choices in camera shots, who says what, etc. that doesn’t mean we can’t step back and reflect, as i hope many of us have, i just think that was an unintended consequence. (if i’m misconstruing what you said please lmk and ill edit!)

that being said, can’t think of a way that generation kill could have done better in this regard based on the book/characters it had. the marines ARE the main characters and by conventional standards its their narrative/feelings/growth that matters. but just because there may have been no other way doesn’t make it unproblematic. its another example of western media using violence against nameless, distant foreigners for their own horror. 

there are people wandering this earth who are dealing with the loss of the man in the white car, the little girl at the roadblock, an entire village. those little boys, if they’re still alive, probably have to deal with the severe injuries they got when they were shot by marines. those slums of baghdad may still be in unstable today and have likely lost community members due to sanitation/hunger/violence. imagine knowing that there is a show out there where you or your loved ones are being used as a plot device to make viewers feel sympathy for the ones who put you in those positions. i sympathize deeply with the marines of GK, but i can imagine how hard it would be to be in the iraqi population’s place watching yourself and your experiences interpreted in a way dissociated from your own suffering so that the primary victimhood can be placed on the ones who did it to you. 

in conclusion, i love gen kill a lot. i love the story and the characters, and i think its an effective story in terms of achieving what it seeks to achieve. i think it’s okay to love something and be critical of it. also if western media companies weren’t cowards and weren’t scared of losing american military financial contributions they would make a miniseries about the iraqi people who were terrorized by american invaders, including the ones we love in gk!

[akinnie75]

Discolorare

Pair: RM x Reader

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Slight Angst, Slow Burn, Fantasy

Word Count: 22k

Summary: You’ve been exiled from your village after being accused of witchcraft. Your punishment is to become food for the beast that lives in the forest. However, instead of being eaten, the beast takes you in.

Warning: There are depictions of blood and violence.

“Witch! Sacrifice the witch!”

“Kill the witch!!”

“Eat her alive!”

These remarks are thrown at you while you stand by the edge of the forest. Your hands bounded by a thorny rope, tied to a near impossibly unbreathable knot. Beside you are two men, on guard and cautious for any potential threat you may ensue. The mayor appears in front of you, whispering his prayers on one knee. Behind is the entire population of the village, damning you to Hell for witchcraft.

“Our Lord and Savior, please find forgiveness in us for sheltering an unpurified mortal on Your holy territory, for we were unaware of her sinful acts. We pray for Your forgiveness by sacrificing her to the beast that resides in the forest.” The mayor mumbles under his breath.

“Amen.” Both men beside you whisper in unison.

The mayor stands up from his kneeling position, stepping aside to let you enter the forest on your own, fearing that even a brush between the shoulders may taint his purity. The crowd roars with demands for you to enter the forest and never return.

You have no choice but to move forward, stepping into the dense forest as a final step into your permanent excommunication. But before you disappear into the condensed abyss, you look back one last time to meet eyes with your father—the man who accused you of witchcraft. There’s a look of terror on his face, convinced that you are a woman of sin, and you knew that that’ll be the last you’ll ever see of him.

------

You lack the motivation to free yourself from your bond, sitting down and leaning on the tree in a fetal position. There’s an array of emotions that travel through you—anger, sadness, confusion., but most notably, anger. No matter how convincing your argument was, no one listened to you. They were too fearful, making their hysteria the truth, just like what they did to your mother.

You imagine what your mother did in her situation. You were too young to understand the weight of the situation when it happened, so you didn’t intervene. Have you been banished because of your blood relations to your mother, who was also accused of being a witch? Perhaps it is simply the curse of being the daughter of a woman who’s been accused—bound to suffer the same fate as the one before you.

There is nothing else in this world for you now. All you can do is wait to be eaten by a supposed beast who wanders the forest. Each time you attempt to rotate your wrists to get a less restraining knot, you end up rubbing friction against your skin with the prickly rope.

From the distance, you hear the sound of leaves crunching and bushes rustling. Initially, you assumed that it may be a small animal passing by, but the sound is too big for it to be insignificant. You try to keep still to avoid the animal from noticing you, but it’s too late. The footsteps motion closer to you, and you spot a dark, overbearing figure looming over the bushes. It closes its distance from you, and hidden by the bushes is a lantern to help guide the figure through the forest.

You speculate that this may be a human, but the outline of this apparition is too large, even for the most built man. It may be a bear, but it’s too round to be that possibility as well. You scan through your brain, thinking of all the other species that can match this shadowy figure, but none comes to a conclusion. You’re frozen with terror, legs unable get you to your feet.

The figure finally appears in front of you, hovering right over you. Your eyes widen with a look of horror and shock. This is no ordinary creature. Its broad, hairy shoulders, two large horns that have been spiraled at the tip, a physique that is twice the size of a man. Its entire body is covered in silver fur, and the light from the lantern shines underneath him, revealing a face that is nothing else other than monstrous.

“...Come with me.” He growls under his breath.

You blink profusely as you examine this unknown creature standing before you, not even realizing that he spoke. The creature doesn’t give you a moment before he turns around and walks off. Seeing as the creature walks without patience, you swiftly stand on your two feet and follow him.

------

You remain close to the beast, your gaze not once leaving his back. The dense forest blocks all opportunities of light breaking through the cracks of the leaves, so straying away from him would mean losing direction. Every so often, the creature glances over his shoulder to keep his eyes on you but would turn back and stare straight on.

You could not believe what your eyes are seeing. The myth of the beast who resides in the forest truly exists. The description of him matches the stories told by the villagers: his large build, sharp teeth, everything. However, one difference is that during the first introduction, the beast did not devour you in that moment. Though it may be that he’s leading you to his lair to eat you, his appearance did not scream ‘menacing’ whatsoever. He behaved like any other civilized being, saving you from this depth of trouble.

The creature makes an abrupt stop, nearly causing you to run into his back. Since his overbearing size blocks your peripheral, you cannot see what stands before him. You lean to your side, and there lies a colossal, dark palace. Even with the night sky limiting what you can see, you see that it is in shambles; the place looks run-down with mold on the walls, the front garden unkempt for what seems like years. There is rust growing on the entrance gates, and the metal doors creak with the gale gently weaving through its openings.

There is a bridge that divides you from the dilapidated palace, and the beast treks across it as if he’s been through it a dozen times. Though suspicious of it at first, seeing as the beast stride over the bridge, you come to the conclusion that this is his residence. Each floorboard that you step on creaks, almost giving in to your weight but sturdy enough to carry through to the end. Now on the same land as the palace, you have a clearer view of the palace’s circumstance, and it’s worse than your first introduction of it. There are rotting woods sprawled all over the dead grass, statues wrapped in vines, and dead leaves everywhere. With your attention focused on the state of the palace, you didn’t catch notice the distanced gap that lies between you and the beast. You keep up by quickening your pace until the distance is closed.

Inside, he leads you to a bedroom, and the condition of the room is no different from the rest of the setting. The mattress looks ages old, and the drapes by the balcony have been torn. There are cobwebs in all corners of the room, including on dusty pieces of furniture. When you observe the room a while longer, you’ve come to realize that there is no source of light except the lantern.

“Sit by the edge.” He points to the bed.

You do as you are told, sitting by the edge of what you assume to be his bed. The beast grabs a dusty stool, patting off the particles, and you watch as they float off. He sets it in front of you and sits, grabbing a small dagger that rests on the nightstand. You jolt, fear running up your spine as you worry he will kill you right here and now. But your fears are put to rest when his large paws gently grab ahold of your tied hands, slicing the rope that traps them. You stare in astonishment, the way one paw is large enough to cup both of your hands, and instead of using it as a means of holding you down to be eaten, he helps you.

Once your hands are free from the rope, you finally feel air pass through your wrists. There are red markings and scratches, but it isn’t detrimental enough for you to seek medical attention. You stare at the beast in hopes of hearing an explanation as to why he saved you, but he remains silent.

“I...I am grateful.” You manage to whimper through your teeth.

But the beast is unphased by your gratitude towards him. He raises his head, staring at you with his dead, coal eyes. “I will spare your life, but in exchange, you must abide by these two rules. Breaking these rules would mean that I have no choice but to kill you.”

The beast stands up and returns the stool from where he found it.

“First: You are never allowed to go beyond that bridge. Going over it means I would have to search for you and kill you,” the beast pauses, seemingly for dramatic purposes. “And two: you must never be out of my sight. When you are out of my line of sight, I will have you tied down to make sure that you do not escape.”

Your eyebrows crease at these rules suddenly dropped onto your shoulders. Just moments ago, you had thought that the beast was saving your life. It turns out that he wants you as a prisoner, but as for the reason, you cannot understand. For what point is it for the beast to keep you here and have you follow those rules? You have nothing of value for him other than your life, but even that is not as valuable, for you are—or at least were—worth no more than a mediocre village girl.

“Do you understand?”

“...Yes.”

With the conversation at that, the beast once again sits on the stool, but this time a distance from you. He does nothing else but stares at you with sharp eyes. Despite having just been told that you will be on the beast’s eyes at all times, you still feel uneasy. You were not expecting him to enact his rules immediately. You feel his eyes jabbing at you, so you cannot help but turn your back to him.

You have been put into a position that you had never asked for. Firstly, you’ve been exiled by your own village, and second, though your life has been spared, you have now become a prisoner of the beast. Everything you do now have become under the supervision of the beast, and you’re unsure if he has extended your life span, or he’s plotting to murder you some time soon.

All that occupies your mind now is an image of your mother. You wonder if she had also encountered the beast and was slain by him. But you hold onto that hope that your mother didn’t die by the hands of the beast, as she is a strong-willed woman who does not allow anyone to hold her down. She always held words of wisdom, so you looked up to her often. But as you scurry through your thoughts of what your mother might’ve done in this situation, you drift off to sleep.

------

You are awakened by the glaring sunlight shining through the balcony. You rub your eye, unable to remember exactly when you fell asleep. However, when you try to move your other arm, it feels restricted, and there’s a tight grasp around your wrist. You look to see that your left arm has been tied to the bed frame.

You pull on the rope that has you to the frame, in complete disbelief that you’re once again in restraints. You search around the room for the beast, but he is nowhere in sight. You continue to tug on the rope, grinding your teeth as you use all of your strength as possible to remove your hand.

That’s when you remember one of the rules living under this palace: whenever the beast is out of sight, he has you tied down. You sigh in defeat, cursing at yourself to letting your guard down and allowing him to take advantage of you. You don’t know if he is preparing to kill you, so you take this opportunity to make an attempt to escape while he’s not present.

Last night, the beast had a dagger in his room, so you stretch as far as you can on the bed in search of any sharp objects to cut the rope. Unfortunately, the beast is witty enough not to let a single hard object in your line of reach, so you gnaw on the rope, untying the rope with your hands and teeth only to be unsuccessful.

But your opportunity ends quickly when you hear the sound of footsteps approaching the other end of the door. The door opens, and the beast enters. You notice that he’s holding a tray with a plate and a cup of water. He grabs the stool and sits across from you.

“While you slept, I have prepared breakfast for you.”

The plate consists of roasted chicken leg with boiled potatoes, along with a side of radish. The beast uses the side of the fork to cut the leg and pierces into it. He points the fork at you, but all you do is stare at it curiously. He doesn’t say a word, and you assume that he wants to feed you.

You jerk your head back, disgusted by the thought of being fed by a stranger—no less a monster. You keep your mouth shut, afraid of the possibility that he might’ve poisoned the food. The beast patiently waits for you to accept his offer to which you remain stubborn.

“You have not eaten since I found you, so it’s preferable that you still have your strength. Eat.” He motions the fork closer to you.

But you shake your head. You greatly dislike how this creature does whatever he wishes without giving you the opportunity to speak. By doing what pleases, his actions become questionable, so it’s no wonder that you can’t lower your suspicions.

“Why did you let me live? What are your intentions of keeping me alive??”

He sets the fork down, sighing, but does not say a word.

“Do you think that by censoring your words I’d allow you to do whatever you wish to me? I will remain stagnant toward your offers,” You raise your voice. “Now tell me: what is your intention? Torture? Punishment? To eat me?”

“...I do not believe in the act of violence. Everyone deserves the right to live.”

“Then by having me as prisoner in this godforsaken tower already qualifies as taking my life away!” You exclaim.

The night before, you were terrified of defying him, concerned that he would end your life. However, death is no different than being caged and all of your freedom taken away from you. It seems like you’ve found something worse than death.

“...Fine then.”

The beast stands up, setting the tray on the stool. He leans over you, and you close your eyes, expecting him to harm you. Instead, you feel the rope around your wrist loosen, and your arm is free. You wrap your hand around your wrist, massaging the red marks while you stare at the beast questioningly.

“I find it hypocritical of myself to have you confined when my intentions were to save your from your bondages last night, but this will be the only time I let you go,” the beast returns to the stool and picks up the plate. “But you must allow me to feed you. The amount of trust you have in me is reciprocated to how much I will trust you in return.”

You crease your eyebrows, but then you hear the growling coming from your stomach. You immediately cover your stomach with your hand, cheeks turning red. Thankfully, the beast pretends as if he’s never heard it and patiently waits for you to accept his food.

You swallow all of your pride and open your mouth to begin the feeding process. You thought that since the beast has done no harm to you thus far, you have no reason to doubt him. He takes this as a sign of permission, and he gives you the first taste of the food. The chicken is overcooked and bland, but still edible. When he feeds you the potatoes, it is nowhere near cooked to the core, as you can still taste the raw crunchiness in the center. You are aware that you should not eat raw potatoes, as the harsh starchiness can harm your digestive system. But you eat what you can, as you know that you are not eating enough to take a complete toll on your body.

Judging by the lack of life besides the beast occupying this palace, the beast must’ve cooked this for you, or at least attempted to. This is not the defamed demon that your village created him to be. Though you have not spent even an entire day with him, there is no resemblance between the imagined monster and the one in front of you. The pure side of you is whispering in your ear that there is no use of being cautious, but your devilish side says otherwise—that he’s waiting for you to bring your guard down and devour you.

But if he saved your life as he claims he did, then why keep you as his prisoner? Why go as far as tying you to a pole when he is out of sight? What is his goal at the end of all this?

------

For the next few days, it has been this repetition of the beast watching over you while you do trivial activities in the bedroom. You would sit on the bed, drawing imaginary lines with your finger as the beast watches you. You’ve gotten quite used to his eyes on you as if you are an infant needed to be supervised. When it came to breakfast or dinner, he would do his usual routine of tying you to the bed to cook, and you can do nothing but sit and wait for him to finish prepping and feed you.

The nights were unusual, as he would have you tied to the bed frame and watch you sleep from the stool. Each time you turn around to look at him, his eyes would be kept on you, not once darting away. Curious, you would up at different parts of each nightfall to see if he ever sleeps, but he never does. He’s been having his eyes on you every time you checked. You have never once witnessed him eat either. He must be some sort of invincible being to be able to live without sleeping or eating.

But the days when you had to bathe are one of the worst. You are stripped of your clothing—and your privacy.

“I said do not touch me!” You scowl at the beast.

You kick and scream as you try to free yourself from the ropes that bound you The buttons on your dress has been undone, and the beast attempts to finish the rest. However, before he can have it done, you fought him like you never did before. To your surprise, no matter how much you retaliated, the beast has not once raised his hand at you. Though, it is the first that you’ve seen him become impatient with you.

“I will not allow you to continue living here without being bathed.”

Next to him is a wooden tub filled with water. Just a glance at the water is enough to make you feel nauseous. You are more afraid of that single tub than the beast stripping you of your clothes, a trauma you wish to never to remember. But you try to show no signs of vulnerability in front of the monster.

You manage to hold back your tears, even forcing out a plastic snicker. “You are a fiend filled with irony. You dare clean me with your claws when your own palace is no better than a pig’s pen?!”

You meant that as a way to insult him, but he is not deterred by your weak words. It only encourages him to move closer. You jolt in fear, your eyes hurriedly staring at the wooden tub then back at the beast. You jump onto the bed, screaming and shouting that you refuse to get into the water, giving you a brief flashback of a time when your head was forced into a body of water.

“I said d-do not get close to me! If you do, I will tear my own hand off if it means escaping from you.”

In a surge of desperation, you pull on the rope’s grip with the kind of strength you’ve never used before. The blood circulation in your hands is blocked, and your hand becomes pale. Even if the pain of separating your hand from your arm is unbearable, it’s more tolerable than having the beast strip you and force you into the tub.

By instincts, the beast lunges towards you to stop you from your insanity. You fall onto the bed face first, exposing the skin on your back. He manages to pin both of your hands down to prevent you from harming yourself any further. With the cold breeze brushing against your bare back, you realize that the beast can see your skin.

There is a moment of silence between you and the beast, and you know exactly why. You try to fight back again, but the beast doesn’t move. Sweat starts pouring from your forehead, not wanting him to see something you try to keep hidden.

“Let me go, you brute!! I swear, I will have you killed if you do not do as I say! There are people who are terrified of you and wish to have you exterminated, so they will find you and murder you! O-one day, I will escape from this wretched place...and...and star- begin...an uproar to have you wiped off and return you to Hell!” You shout the most horrible words you can think of, but with each word that you say, your voice becomes weaker and weaker. “S-so...do not look at my back so intently...I despise it more than anything.”

The beast understands why you are so afraid of having your skin exposed. There are numerous scars ranging from needle pricks to full-blown cuts sprawled across your back. Judging by a few of these scars, some are rather recent, just prior to meeting you in the forest.

You bite your bottom lip as you hide your face in humiliation. Your ears are extremely red, feeling like an absolute fool for not handling this situation as rationally as you should’ve. It’s difficult to hide your tears of embarrassment, but you swallow that lump in your throat and replacing it with your pride.

But to your amazement, the beast releases you and moves away. You sit up, holding your dress up to prevent the top section from falling. He walks to the door but stops right before closing it.

“I expect you to wash thoroughly, but do not expect me to release you from your bonds. I will give you twenty minutes before I return.”

Just like that, the beast exits the room, leaving you completely alone. You pull up your sleeves over your shoulders, feeling the shame arise on your cheeks. He must’ve left because he was disgusted by your scars, just as much as you are. While he is gone, you give yourself a moment to cry to before wiping it away and clean yourself.

------

Despite the few restraints, the beast is overall a soft-hearted being, loyally following his pattern of feeding you, cleaning you, and watching you. Besides having to force you down on the tub completely naked and tying you to the bed, he has not once been violently aggressive. He treats you with tenderness and care, but at the same time, he has no shame in reminding you that you are not someone of virtuous value to him. He treats you as though you are a plant in need of constant watering.

And it’s with that thought that makes it feel like you’ll go insane and have a strong desire to escape. Being imprisoned in a bedroom is no different than being dead. You miss the smell of fresh air, the sensation of grass on your bare feet, the sky being over your head than concrete. But most of all, you miss going through your daily life without being under firm surveillance.

That is when you thought of a plan: gain the beast’s trust. While he strictly follows his rules of keeping you locked down, his gentle spirit makes him seem like a fool—someone easy to manipulate. You tested him for the past couple of days, and he has a habit of tending to your needs, such as when you requested for warm water or wanted a thicker blanket. You slowly escalate your level of demands, your last one being to venture outside of the palace without watching you.

It’s around the usual time that the beast gets up to make you dinner. Though he never directly states that he’s going to cook dinner, you know well enough the position of the sun when the beast leaves to the kitchen.

Just as he is about to leave the room, you call out to him. “Wait!”

He stops just as you ordered him to, and he turns his head enough to see you from the corner of his eye.

“...Will you allow me to cook dinner tonight?”

The beast doesn’t answer immediately, to which you’ve already predicted. It already seems out of place for you to ask that, but it’s one of the first steps of gaining his trust. You try to think of a reason for saying that. You don’t want to say something too out of character and obvious by saying ‘I feel awful that you always cook for me’, but at the same time, phrasing a reason that makes you emotionally detached is not a good option either.

“I worry that the way in which you cook may deteriorate not only my health but yours as well.”

You see his ears twitch, intrigued by your words but seemingly not fully convinced just yet.

“In my village, I noticed that many of the villagers fell ill, so I conducted research and discovered that unwashed or raw potatoes are the main source, so it concerns me with the way you have them prepared. I can teach you the proper way of avoiding sickness.”

You do recall a time when your village fell into a minor epidemic, and you discover that the source of it was coming from potatoes, and you notice that the patterns in which the beast cooks is similar to the ones that the ill villagers cooked.

You pray to the heavens that that was enough to convince the beast. He glares at you with an eyebrow raised, skeptical with your words. A sweat drops, and you swallow your anxiousness to keep your composure.

“Very well. After all, cooking was never my greatest trait.”

He unties the rope at the end of the bed frame, but he does not untie you from your bondage. He holds the end of the rope like a leash, leading you the path downstairs. Though not entirely what you wanted, it still moves the plan forward.

------

While passing through every hall, you scan every detail of the beast’s residence, searching for possible escape routes. To your surprise, there are a lot of openings. Perhaps it may be because the palace has not been well-kept, there are holes on walls, rotting wood, and even a hole large enough for you to fit through. When first entering, you were not able to map out the area because you were occupied with the thought of being killed.

You make it to the kitchen, which is no cleaner than the rest of the place. The beast has you tied to a pole then walks through a door connected to the backyard. He returns with a basket full of potatoes and sets it in front of you. In his hand is a small knife, presumably used to peel the potatoes. He sits there, silently waiting for you to tutor him.

“Have you washed the potatoes yet?”

He shakes his head.

“You should have them washed. While the soil is a great place for the potatoes to grow, it also contains content that may be detrimental to us,”  You pick out one potato as an example. “You see? There is soil all over this potato, and eating it would also mean eating the fertilizer and dirt that has been exposed to disease.”

You rotate the potato around, and you spot a small hole drilled into the vegetable. The beast doesn’t understand why you’re staring at it intently until you manage to break the potato open. You dig into the raw potato and reveal a tiny, brown larva, nibbling through the center of the starch.

“These insects are harmful to your potato’s growth. Seeing one of these in your garden is not a good sign. Though these insects aren’t dangerous to us directly, they eat what we consume.”

You set it down, then you pick out another one. This one has an unusual shade of green, a sign you’ve become too familiar with seeing back in your village.

“Seeing any sort of green on a potato is never good. The moment you see these, you must avoid them at all costs.”

“Why is that?”

“I have not finished conducting my research on potatoes just yet...but it seems to have relations to having exposure to sunlight. Since potatoes’ primary growth is underground, it’s sensitive to the outside during its critical period. I have yet to find a reason why…”

You analyze the potato in its entirety, recollecting all of your research notes you had left behind in the village. Meanwhile, the beast stares at you in awe, amazed by the amount of information you hold inside.

“And why is it that you never finished?”

You look up from the potato, then you lower your head again. It isn’t a memory you’d like to remember exactly, and it’s still fresh in your mind, as you can still feel every single moment of it.

“My research is the very reason why I was exiled from my village.”

The beast looks rather surprised, but he quickly regains his stoic expression.

“My mother was also accused of being a witch, so it’s no wonder that her very own daughter would be suspected of one too.”

From the corner of your eye, you notice that the beast flinches ever so slightly. But you pay no real attention to it, as it may be your imagination.

“Though I was suspected of being a witch like my mother, I was always careful enough to clear my tracks, even if everything I did had nothing to do with spells or magic. There was an illness passing through my village, and I wanted to find the source of it, to which I learned that it came from the potatoes that we grew.”

But just remembering what happened pains you, clenching onto the green potato tightly in your hands.

“...I spent countless nights searching for a cure or any way to avoid falling ill from this pesky vegetable, but one night, I was searching through my property’s garden, when my father caught me and accused me of witchcraft. He claimed that I was casting a spell on the potatoes, making them turn green with poison and murdering the villagers in the name of the Devil. I remained strong, opposing their outrageous stories of me, but my retaliation turned against me, and I was ‘tested’...” You let out a small chuckle to hide the pain. “A funny synonym used to hide the reality of it being ‘torture’…”

You remember the time when you were forced into a pond, the mayor of the village pushing you off a plank and waiting to determine if you’ll float or not. You had moments where you nearly drowned but miraculously survived, but that meant nothing. You were forced to remember phrases from the Bible, which you knew nearly nothing because you were more focused on research than reading.

But worst of all, you were forced to strip in front of the entire village, the mayor and his people search every detail of your body for a supposed ‘devil’s mark’. When they found nothing, you were faced with physical torture, being pricked on the skin with dull needles, even as far as being stabbed and sliced with knives in order to make their false accusations come to life. After days of torture, you were finally deemed as a witch, and your punishment was to become food for the beast.

Your memories of the torture make your skin crawl, remembering those disgusting hands on your body and the cold metal piercing through your skin. You bite your bottom lip to avoid tears from overflowing, but the beast is no fool. He knows you try to hide your tears, but you fail to remain calm.

“They burned my research papers because it was ‘words from the devil’, so I no longer have proof of my findings...and to the very end, not a single person has ever believed me.”

You don’t know why you’re confessing everything to the beast. Your mother has always taught you that to be strong in this unfair world, you mustn’t show your vulnerable side. Because you are a woman and the main target of all the sins, you must learn how to fight back and not allow others to become dominant over you. But what your mother failed to teach you is how to deal with the number of emotions weighing on your shoulders. She never mentioned that confiding to another being—an outsider to the main trouble, can feel so relieving. Still...you can’t get over that nasty feeling that you’ve broken one of your mother’s philosophy.

“I believe you.”

You look up at the beast, eyes widen at the surprising agreement. Because his beast is nowhere near the resemblance of a human, you cannot tell whether the beast is smiling or not.

“I am unable to help you gather all of your research, but I can give you the opportunity to redo it here. I have a large garden that I am ashamed to say is not in the best condition, but I hope that’ll do.”

Your eyes light up, and you almost jumped with overflowing glee. However, you keep your composure, trying to avoid eye contact with him.

“Th-thank you…”

Though it was your intentions of gaining his trust for your escape plan, this is more than you can ever ask for. This beast must be either a gullible simpleton, or he truly has this much faith in you. He’s finally given you the opportunity to step outside again, but you still doubt that he might be trying to trick you into falling for his traps. He could be playing kindly with you so you can lower your guard, but at the same time, he could genuinely be this generous. He keeps doing things that make you second guess yourself.

But in the midst of your dilemma, you could’ve sworn that the beast’s large mouth perked upward to form a smile. “I see potential in your research. Now, please continue teaching me more about potatoes.”

‘Potential’...it’s a word you’ve never heard been told to you before. You’ve always been known as an outcast for your unusual way of seeing the world. To hear someone appreciate what you have to say, it makes you feel giddy inside. Perhaps...the beast may not be as bad as you think he is after all.

“Kindness from a man is another way they cater to a woman’s weak heart. They want nothing but power and lust. You must not fall for it.”

That’s when you hear your mother’s voice, warning you of the beast’s actions. You’re becoming the kind of woman your mother hates the most—a confined, naive woman who falls for the words of every man. You mustn’t fall for his words. After all, he is in the body of a beast. For now, you will continue with this role and when the moment allows it, you will escape.

------

“Oh...in the Lord’s name...what is this??” You nearly swear under your breath.

You and the beast are standing in front of his treacherous garden. You cannot believe that the past days the food that the beast gave you came from this land of garbage. The garden is unorganized, some squash have been pecked open by nearby birds, the potatoes you mentioned before are sticking out of the soil, and you see more of an array of deteriorated plants than fresh ones.

“I did mention that I was never great with food…”

“...This goes beyond cooking...How do manage to survive till this day?”

He shrugs his shoulders. Even he doesn’t have the answer to that. You kneel down, feeling sympathetic for the plants that he couldn’t take proper care of.

“...Perhaps there is more to nurturing plants than simply feeding them water…”

“‘Perhaps’? Of course! There are pests, weather, and fertilization that you have to worry about!”

You try to swallow the thought that had you not bring the topic of potatoes up, then you might’ve died from some sort of disease roaming in his garden. Still tied to practically a leash, you tug on it to signal the beast that you wish to inspect deeper into the garden to draw to a better conclusion.

Just then, your immersion is broken by the sound of a familiar animal moaning across the field. You perk your head up to find a barn in the distance. It didn’t catch your attention at first, as the poor state of the garden drew you in. But seeing the condition in which the beast has left it in, you can’t imagine what the animals go through.

“You have a barn?”

You notice that the beast’s eyes glisten with excitement, ears perking up upon hearing your interest in his animals.

“Yes, I do in fact. Would you like to see them?”

In the barn, there is a vast array of animals, from sheep to cows to chicken. But to your amazement, it’s the state that the barn is in that catches your attention. This barn’s condition is better than his own home by a tenfold. The food for each animal is organized neatly, individually resting on the side of the barn, the hay bales are set aside on the corner stacked on each other, and the tools are hanging on the walls. Unlike the plants, the animals look as if they’ve been watched over by saints, as just by one glance, they all look healthy. You cannot understand why a barn is more livable than his palace.

Just then, a bloodhound runs towards the beast, wagging its tail and excited to meet its owner. The beast kneels down and pets the hound, showing a rare smile on his face. It’s an expression you’ve never witnessed during your long period with him, and all it simply took was for him to be with his dog.

“This is Run. He guards my barn for me in case wild animals try to attack my animals.”

“Run?”

“He enjoys running. Do you want to pet him?”

“N-no, I’m fine…”

And it doesn’t seem like Run would want you to touch him either, as he growls at you as if you are dangerous. But the beast shushes Run, letting him know that you would never harm him.

After playing with Run a bit more, he tugs on the rope attached to your wrist to follow him deeper into his barn as he checks on his animals. You never thought you would ever see a day where you learn that the beast cares about animals. He never strikes you as a pacifist, especially since he occasionally would bring plates of cooked meat.

With each animal in the stable, he would pet them or quickly check their body in case something happened to them. You watch closely as the beast sincerely shows affection for each and every one of them. No one from your village ever showed this much passion for their animals as much as this beast; even your own mother, who you deem as the most sympathetic person, doesn’t care about them this much.

The beast stops at a horse in its own individual stable, and this animal, in particular, stands out to you. This horse is sitting on its hind legs, mindlessly looking around. He sets the end of your leash on a chair so he can use both hands to pet the horse. Unlike the rest of the animals, the beast blinks his eyes with a look of melancholy, combing its mane with his paws.

“...This is Maxmille, and he’s been with me since childhood. He’s gotten quite old and can’t run like the old days.”

All of his attention seems focused on the pitiful horse, having forgotten to tie you to anything to prevent you from running. You’re not tied to anything. Your eyes are fixated on the loose end of the leash sitting on the chair since a simple tug is enough to help you escape. You keep looking over at the beast, and he doesn’t seem to notice that you have the chance to run away. You didn’t think it’d be this easy, as all it took was pulling on a few emotional strings.

At that moment, you feel a rush of adrenaline overcome you. You silently take a step back, making sure that the scattered hay straws do not make a sound when stepping on it. But seeing as the beast is still unphased, you take this as an opportunity to escape. You’ll finally be independent, no longer tied down, be able to taste freedom.

However, when you tell yourself to run, your feet won’t move. This wave of adrenaline is not from the excitement of escaping, but the fear of escaping. If you manage to run away, then where will you go? Prior to meeting the beast, you had given in to succumbing to death. Meeting him only extended your death.

There is that fear that runs through your body, but it’s also your conscious being overrun by guilt. You made promises with the beast that you’d teach him about gardening and cooking. You promised that you’d continue your research as he sees potential in it. He’s cooked and cleaned all for you, and not once have you given anything back in return. Will you be alright running away, knowing that you tricked an innocent person?

‘You are a coward, succumbing to another man’s words. You disappoint me.’

Out of nowhere, you hear your mother’s words play in your head. You shake your head, telling yourself that you are not giving in to the beast’s kindness. It is not righteous to leave him empty-handed.

‘You are no different than those weak, idiotic women. I rather have my nails pricked inside repeatedly than to have a failure as my daughter.’

You cover your ears, but no matter how tight you close them, the insults from your mother keep crawling in. You keep shaking your head, whispering ‘no’ repeatedly.

‘All that torture the village made you go through, you deserved it. Because of your weak heart, you gave up and allowed those wretched monsters to hurt you. You aren’t strong enough to live in this world.’

“(Y/N), are you alright?”

Suddenly, you see the beast in front of you with a concerned look. You had forgotten that you are in his barn. You blink profusely, trying to get ahold of yourself and understanding that panic attack you just went through.

“Y-yes...the noise is too loud here, that is all.” You inhale deeply, then sighing to calm down.

You still refuse to show him your helpless side. You mustn’t open that weak side and remain strong, just as your mother told you.

“Is that so? Then, let us return to the garden.”

He takes your leash again and walks out the barn. Even though he broke you from your trance, you can still hear your mother whispering in your ears, telling you not to believe him. She repeats that if doubt exists in your mind, then there is a reason to doubt in the first place. You listen to each word without refuting, but when you look up at the beast, you see no madness in him. It is just as he mentioned once before, the amount of trust you have in him, then he’ll reciprocate that, and he lives vigorously with his words.

But you stop in your tracks, realizing that he just called you by your name. “Hold on...how do you know my name? I never once said it aloud to you.”

The beast turns around and simply smiles, but he turns around and continues walking. You crease your eyebrows, annoyed by his lack of answers. Regardless, you still follow him close by, making sure that you don’t stray too far from him.

------

Rather than waiting impatiently for the sun to disappear, you decide to organize the bedroom. Surprisingly enough, the beast has extended the rope, so now you are able to wander the majority of the bedroom, excluding the balcony and pass the entrance door. You use a piece of cloth to clean the dust off the tables, covering your mouth and nose with your sleeve.

The tense atmosphere between you and the beast has lessened, and while he still has you tied down, he’s given you more freedom. He’s allowed you to go outside, tending to the plants and at times the barn, as long as he watches. Though it is a hassle having to redo your experiments again, you find it more soothing than never being able to return to it. The beast has become intrigued with your work, often times questioning your methods, and each time you give him an explanation, he nods his head. He doesn’t go against your claims, but listens diligently and continues to observe.

Despite all this, the rules have been given to you on the first day still applies. You still are not allowed to walk over the bridge, nor are you allowed to be out of the beast’s sight with the exclusion of being tied down. He’s become more open with you, but he has yet to give you a reason for keeping you restrained and hidden in his palace. You wish to know, but each time you ask, he always finds a way to look over your questions.

While alone in the bedroom, the beast is cooking downstairs. With your help, the beast’s cooking has improved exponentially. You spoke about seasoning, adding spices to his food so that it’ll last longer, and you taught him how to make mashed potatoes that’ll guarantee that it’s cooked to the center. Though, you wish he’d drop this rule of you having to be confined in this room and be able to venture the palace whenever he prepares food.

You sit on the bed once you’re done, thinking of other various activities to do, when your ears catch a strange noise coming from the balcony. You turn your head, listening closely to the sound, and it sounds like a man’s voice. You crease your eyebrows, thinking that you must’ve turned insane hearing another person’s voice from the balcony, but you know that your mind isn’t playing tricks on you.

“Come here, come here...come here!” It repeats that phrase over and over.

You fear the unknown, a chill running up your spine once you see a shadow hovering over the balcony railings. There really is another person there. You thought about calling for help, but the beast is a ways down, making it nearly impossible for your voice to reach four floors down.

Thankfully, screaming is not required, as the beast enters through the entrance door with a tray of food.

He catches note of your terrified expression. “Is there something wrong?”

“...Th-there’s someone there,” you point to the balcony.

He looks at the balcony, and the shadowy figure disappeared. It must’ve left before the beast came into the room. You sigh in relief, but seeing as the figure is gone, you must sound insane to the beast now.

You shake your head to dismiss your claim. “Ah...ignore me. I must be irrational right now.”

But the beast seems to be taking your words as the truth. He sets the tray down and approaches the balcony, inspecting every part of the exterior but finds nothing. He returns, picking up the tray and sits across from you on the bed.

“Have no fear, I will check the following day. My apologies, you must’ve been frightened.”

“Did you see anything?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, but you have no reason to lie.”

He perks a small smile, then he scoops a spoonful of mashed potatoes, holding it close to your lips. You jerk your head slightly back, cheeks burning red with embarrassment.

“Must you spoon-feed me like a baby all the time? I know how to use my hands.”

You find the feeding sessions to be humiliating, disliking how the beast seemingly belittles your ability to eat on your own as if your hands are disabled. He must know by now that you don’t plan on using any of the eating utensils as weapons, especially since the metal won’t even make a dent with his thick body.

The beast doesn’t make an immediate reply. “...Be patient for a bit longer.”

What reason is there that you have to remain patient? You want to know, but you push no further with questions, as you can already foretell that the beast will avoid answering as much as possible. You swallow your pride and allow the beast to continue feeding you.

------

BOOM!

You are awake by the sound of banging coming from the floor below. It’s the middle of the night, and there’s not a single source of light inside the bedroom. The only way to see is the light that the full moon illuminates in the room. Your heart is racing fast, as the loud bang terrified you, and you feel your breathing becoming unsteady.

You wipe the cold sweat from your forehead, looking for the beast. When you look around, you don’t find the beast anywhere, which is unusual because this is the first night he broke the rules and has left you alone. But what surprises you even more is that your hand is not bounded to the bed! You feel yourself, making sure that this is no dream. And after pinching yourself, you determine that this is all real.

However, what remains in the unknown void is the mysterious bang from a floor below. You notice that the entrance door has been left open, and it’s pitch black. Going through there would mean no source of light, and potentially face the source of the sound. You are immediately brought back to a few hours ago when you heard the voice from the balcony. Whoever was on the balcony may be downstairs.

Suddenly, a loud ‘THUD’ happens, causing you to flinch and let out a small yelp. You don’t know what is happening downstairs, but you do know that you’re terrified. You’re sitting on the bed like a damsel in distress, waiting for her knight to appear, but in this story, there is no knight. You’re alone and defenseless, now damning your fortune in this world. Of all the nights the beast had to leave you by yourself, it had to be the night of a possible intruder.

But once you stop shutting all source of sound through your ear canals, you can hear a faint noise echoing the halls. You slowly slide off the bed, tiptoeing to the edge of the door to get a clearer hearing. From the bottom of the murky stairs, you hear a low, weak groan. It’s very faint, almost as if the person downstairs is calling for help, but does not have the strength to yell.

All common sense is telling you to stay away, but your guilty conscious is telling you that you’ll regret it if you leave that person, alone calling for help. You’d feel guilty being aware of this person’s needs but ignoring it to save yourself.

You sigh, giving in to your conscious and leaning over the flight of stairs to search any source of light. To your benefit, you see what seems to be a dimly-lit lantern right at the bottom of the stairs. You clutch onto your chest as you are about to do something you’ll potentially regret later on.

You keep one hand on the wall, walking down the stairs slowly, as you’re about to dive into a sea of darkness with that small glow at the bottom of the stairs as your only source. The creaking of the wooden boards creates an illusional increase in volume as you move closer to the bottom. The groans only grow stronger when you get closer, and you’re able to get an improved grasp of the voice’s identity.

Sitting by the base of the stairs, there lies a man, leaning on the wall. Next to him is the lantern that caught your attention. You flinch back, praying that this man did not see you. But before you ran off, you notice something familiar about this man. He’s wearing the same, oversized clothes that the beast wears.

“...(Y/N)...is that you?” The way this man speaks is also similar to the beast.

Though an octave higher than the beast’s voice, you recognized his voice. It’s the beast, but...he’s a human. Upon closer inspection, the man is clutching his stomach, and though it didn’t strike you as unusual initially, you realize that he’s trying to stop the massive bleeding from his abdomen, and sticking out of it is a wooden arrow. There’s a small pool of blood around him, and his white shirt has soaked in most of his blood.

You kneel down, panic rushing through your veins as you try to remain calm. “I will help you up, but it’s going to hurt a bit, alright? S-so, please try to tolerate with the pain as best as you can.”

With many questions running through your head but having no time to have them answered, you take the man’s arm and wrap it over your shoulder. You count to three, giving him a moment to prepare for the pain before you lift him to his feet. He makes a quick grunt then clenches his teeth to embrace the pain from his stomach.

You think of what to do with him. With his current state, it is important that you find a soft enough cushion to lay him down and remove the arrow. But there’s only one room that has a mattress, and it’s up the flight of stairs to the beast’s bedroom. You carry the lantern with your free hand, eyeing the staircase that didn’t seem so long before you knew you had to carry a grown man up to the room.

You give yourself three seconds to complain in your then, then you pick up the man, holding onto him with a more firm grasp, taking the first step to your long trek.

------

As much as it is in your desires to fall onto the bed, your task is still not over. You gently lay him on the bed, his blood already staining the sheets. After setting the lantern on the nightstand, you scurry around the room, searching for anything that’ll numb his pain when you pull out the arrow. Unfortunately, you fail in doing so as there is nothing efficient enough to be used. Since time is of the essence, he has no choice but to feel every inch of pain.

You rip the bottom strip of your dress as a replacement for bandages, preparing it before the dreadful inevitable. You kneel on the floor to be eye level with the injured man. “I will not refrain from telling you the truth, but it’s going to hurt.”

But the man does not seem to be listening to you, which is understandable because the pain must be unbearable. You cup his cheek to get his attention, and his face is covered in sweat. Since you got the blood on your hands, you unintentionally smear his cheek with his blood.

“Hey— hey...shhh, listen to me. You will be fine, alright? I need you to copy me and control your breathing.”

You inhale a large chunk of air and exhale. The man does what he is told and imitates you. Once you got him to calm down, you try to remember how to remove an arrow. You know you cannot simply pull it out, as it will cause more pain. You’ve had enough experience with arrows that by pulling it, the metal head could break off and stay in his body.

You notice that in the man’s pockets, there is a dagger. You know what you must do in order to remove it, but you aren’t sure if he is. You take his dagger, apologizing to him as you have to create a bigger hole in order to get the entire arrow out of his body. You pray to the Gods that this procedure will run smoothly.

You don’t know how long you’ve been trying, but each time you dig the dagger into his stomach to carefully align it with the arrow and remove it, the man starts thrashing and screaming in pain. You lost count the number of times you’ve tried to keep him down each time he begins kicking. At this point, you feel like this night will never end.

The man has also been clawing at the sheets, his fingernails digging deep into the mattress and removing move of its cottony material. The pain is unfathomable, as no matter what the man does, the pain will never go away. No amount of words can describe what he is going through.

After finding the head, you locate it in a safe enough spot to slowly pull it out. Luckily, the head is still intact, so the process doesn’t add to your stress. You carefully slide it out with the most precision you’ve ever had to put in your hands. Not even a minute goes by, and you’ve successfully removed the arrow.

But it does not end there, so you quickly close the open wound with the cloth you tore to stop the excessive bleeding. You apply pressure on his stomach, but not hard enough to make the blood ooze more. You know that once the bleeding slows down, you have to rush out the palace in search of anything that won’t cause his flesh to rot.

Once the bleeding slows down, you stand up and get ready to run into the forest. But before you leave, you feel something wet and warm wrap around your hand. You look down to see that the man has grabbed you, hand shrouded with sweat.

“D...don...don’t leave me.”

He has a look of desperation as if worried that you’re taking this opportunity to escape. You can’t tell if he’s on the verge of tears, or the sweat has gotten into his eyes. Your heart aches, seeing that doubt in his eyes that you’ll escape and leave him for dead. You lean down, giving him a reassuring smile and brush his bangs out of his forehead.

“You once told me that the amount of trust I have in you, you’ll reciprocate it back, yes? I have faith that you won’t die tonight, so trust in me that I won’t leave you by death’s door.”

You pull his hand off of you, taking the lantern and running out the door, no time to look back. You told him that he won’t die, but you’re frightened that he will. If he dies, then you’ll be left all alone.

------

By the time the man comes to, the sun is dawning. He tries to sit up, but he’s met with a sharp sting in his stomach. He cannot believe that he survived through the night, especially since he had lost so much blood and had his wound exposed to the air for so long. Yet, here he is, alive and breathing.

He sees half of a body laying over the bedside, and it’s you. Exhaustion has overcome your entire body, and once the man’s health was in stable condition, you knocked out. But even with you in a slumber, your hand is wrapped around his hand. You must’ve been so worried because he could see dry tear marks on your cheeks, most likely holding on to his hand to feel his pulse.

Seeing you like this is a different sight for him. You’re always on edge, but as time went on, you start to soften around him. He brushes your hair, never having the chance to take in how beautiful you are, both inside and out. He’s never met a woman as intelligent as you are, and that is only one of the perks that have made him interested in you. He remembers you telling him that you will return, and you kept your promise.

But the mood becomes heavy when he recalls what happened yesterday. The voice you heard outside, and the ambushed that occurred that night, they must’ve finally discovered you. They’re making their move, and he knows that it will be a rocky battle, but he’s prepared for this day to come. He won’t let them have you, have you convert into one of them, just like what that woman did to them. He must not have you be swayed by their words with the goal of keeping order and peace across the lands.

“...I, Kim Namjoon, king of this rightful land, will swear under my family name to protect you from the despicable band that sought out to drive you into a realm of sin and despair.”

After making his pledge, he struggles to sit up due to his injury but does it regardless. He brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckle as a sign of devotion to his vows. Once he finishes, the sun rises from the horizon, signaling that it is time that he must return to his monstrous form. He had prayed that last night wouldn’t be the night you saw him as a human, but it looks as though his prayers were unheard.

------

You groan silently, your spine feeling strained from sleeping upwards for too long. With your eyebrow twitching, your free hand traces all over the sheets for Namjoon. Once your hand has reached as far as it could, you’ve come to the realization that he is no longer there.

You shot up, eyes opening at lightning speed. The bed is still stained in a pool of Namjoon’s blood, the sheets wrinkled and the mattress was torn where his hands gripped. You look all over the bedroom for Namjoon, but he’s nowhere to be seen. All your worries start blinding you, concerned that something might’ve happened to him whilst you slept.

You dash down the stairs, seeing for the first time the trail of blood that Namjoon made when you carried him up the stairs, but there is no fresh blood going downstairs. You glance in every room that you pass by, but you fail in finding Namjoon in any of them. You pray to the gods that nothing has happened to him.

Near the kitchen, you hear the sound of water boiling. You run to the kitchen to find the familiar, hairy figure standing over the stove that is too short for him. He’s stirring an old pot that has seen better days. You’ve never felt so relieved to see him, but he is no longer in his human form. You have this strange desire to run and embrace him, on the verge of tears in seeing that he survived his wound, but you don’t move.

“Namjoon.” You let his name roll out of your tongue naturally.

You’re surprised that you know his name. Of all the times you’ve been with him, he’s never once mentioned his name. Because he’s been silent about it, you would think that he didn’t have one in the first place. But you could’ve sworn that you heard his name last night during your slumber; you just don’t know when.

Your voice caught his attention, turning his head as he smiles to greet you. “So you’ve finally awaken.”

That’s when you remember the injury to his stomach. He is even wearing the same clothes from last night. Though the arrow did not manage to dive deeper, he should be in no condition to stand. You scurry to him, inspecting his body with a panicked expression.

“What are you doing out of bed?! You are not in a stable enough condition to be doing even the most menial chore!”

He was expecting you to return the morning greeting but instead was met with a scolding. While standing next to him, you lean to the side to check the wound. Thankfully, Namjoon has not pushed himself far enough to reopen it.

“Don’t fret. The wound may have been large on my human body; it is nothing in this form.”

He is not wrong, as it seems like the injury seems to have shrunk. The scale of the hole is small compared to the size of his body. That could be one explanation to how he survived the night, as no ordinary human could have possibly survived from a wound that fatal.

“A wound is still a wound! Go back to bed this instant, and I will finish prepping breakfast.”

“But-”

“Go this instant!” You raise your voice and point to the stairs.

Seeing how you’re not backing down anytime soon, Namjoon gives in to your orders, dragging his feet upstairs. Though your tone was frightening, you meant no harm, as you know Namjoon enough that no matter the situation, he remains loyal to his daily schedule. You wait for him to be out of your sight to make sure that he did go to bed, then you start cooking.

------

It’s been ages since you last cooked, so your cooking may not be as good as it used to be. All that talk you gave to Namjoon about his cooking being a tragedy is circling back to you, as you are no different from him.

Cooking alone gave you time to put everything together concerning last night. It is no coincidence that the voice you heard last night has a connection to the arrow in Namjoon’s stomach. Whoever that was, they had the intention of killing him. The voice you heard yesterday said ‘come here’, but why? Was it a trick to lure you in? What would’ve happened had you not been tied to the bed and followed the sound? Could this have relations to why Namjoon imprisoned you?

Namjoon is the only person who can satisfy you with answers, but he’s gifted in the art of aversion. As much of a pushover that he is, he knows how to turn a conversation around. But you know that at some point, he cannot keep you hidden in the darkness for long, as he is bound to tell you everything one day. Only time can tell.

In the bedroom, Namjoon is idly laying on the bed, his back leaning on the frame. His paws are folded on his lap, politely waiting for you to finish cooking. Once he sees you, he perks up a smile. You take the stool that he always used and sat on it. You almost want to feed him, taking revenge and letting him know how humiliating it is to be fed, but you push aside your childish antics, as this is no situation to fool around.

“Your lack of care for the garden has led us to being stocked with only potatoes, so I was only able to make potato soup. I recommend you consuming only soup and porridge for the time being while your abdomen is healing.”

Namjoon takes the bowl from the tray, setting his lips on the edge of the bowl and drinking it. A human-sized spoon is not enough to dress his tongue with the flavor, so drinking it directly is his best option. You worry that he’ll make remarks that the quality of the soup isn’t up to his standards, but he says nothing about it.

“I am in awe at how that brain of yours is stored with so much knowledge.”

“My mother is an intelligent woman, so she taught me many things, particularly in the medical field. Though unlike my mother, I leaned more towards botanical studies, but I do have a bit of a background in the human anatomy.”

Once again, you notice Namjoon flinching slightly upon hearing you mentioning your mother. Though you find it odd, you push it aside again, as it could mean nothing.

“Your mother...she must’ve been educated.”

“Very! My grandfather was a doctor in the closest city, so it was no wonder he passed on his knowledge to my mother. Though I’ve never met him in person, my mother told me that he was a motivational speaker, as his words held strong for the peasants. She told me that he was so talented in persuading that he can change your ideals within mere seconds.”

Normally, Namjoon would be interested, but instead he’s staring at the sheets with a blank expression.

“...So your mother must’ve also been a great speaker as well.”

“To me she was, but to my village, they said that she spoke in the Devil’s tongue. My mother could’ve become something, had she not have been forced to marry that miserable father of mine.”

It always feels horrible having to remember your mother being exiled. She spoke words of truth, but your people were too foolish in believing the mayor’s false prophecies. You could’ve done something, but your own fear held you back. Because of you, you never saw your mother again, and that thought ate inside of you.

But this is the same forest that your mother has been exiled—the same forest that Namjoon found you in. You cling onto the hope that Namjoon must’ve met your mother at some point, and perhaps you’ll feel relieved of this clawing guilt. Maybe you’ll be rid of this uncertainty of whether your mother is still alive or not.

“Namjoon...is it possible that my mother…” but you can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence.

You’ve been dying to know if your mother is still alive, but there is that underlying fear that your mother is dead. You don’t want to hear that the woman you’ve admired has been long dead, and you fear that that’ll be your fate in the near future as well.

“Never mind my words...I’m just thinking like a fool. While you eat, allow me to wash your sheets.”

You grab the extra sheets stained with blood and roll it in a ball, thinking about how much of a fool you are for even bringing it up to him. It’s a problem that you must deal with yourself. Even if Namjoon knew of your mother, how would he have known that she was your mother? Describing her wouldn’t be much help either.

------

“That’s it?”

You nod your head, giving Namjoon the spice grinder filled with crushed, dried yarrow. He inspects it, scratching his chin while fascinated once again with your work.

You set the spice grinder on the nightstand then you proceed to take off Namjoon’s bandages and replacing it with new ones. In between his wound and the bandages is the same yarrow plant that you had squelched on his wound for a faster healing process. Pieces of the stems roll down to his lap, and the further you pull the bandages away, the more particles fall off the bandage. You spread the new bandage on your lap, scattering the ones in the grinder on top of it.

“I was not aware that a plant such as this existed.”

“I remember seeing them when you found me that night. It’s recommended that these be used after they’ve been dried, but I was in no situation to wait for that to happen.”

You wrap the bandages around his wound. Fortunately, the wound is getting smaller, so picking more yarrow won’t be necessary anymore. While wrapping the bandage, you notice Namjoon’s gaze is on you intently. You look up, unable to handle the amount of pressure his eyes are weighing down on you.

“What is it?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Not sure...it’s just interesting to see you doting on me.”

Your cheeks turn red with embarrassment. “I-I am not doting on you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you certainly are.”

“No. I. Am. Not.”

“To me, you are.”

“Well, you’re delusional.”

“Then, what-”

You apply pressure on his injury to get him to be quiet, and it works. He grunts in pain, then he shuts his mouth, knowing he’s pushed it too far.

“Don’t make me regret my choice.” You say with attitude, but your cheeks vividly flushed.

You roll up the old bandages and throw it in a nearby trash container.

“I never got the chance to ask if you were harmed that night. You aren’t injured, are you?”

“That’s a bit too late to ask, but I am absent of injury.”

Namjoon waits for your retort, as you usually have something more to say, but surprisingly you didn’t. Normally, you’d tell him to be silent and rest, but you’re lacking in words today.

“Are you tired?”

You jolt, surprised he even noticed in the first place, but you play it off aloof. “Did I not say that I am fine? There is nothing to worry about me.”

“...Aren’t you the least bit curious about why I was attacked that night?”

Your eyes motion to him, and he understood clearly what your eyes are saying. You are dying to know, but you’re restraining yourself from asking.

“With your injury, you’re in no condition to even be talking. Heal up, then I will interrogate you until I am satisfied.”

With the tone you used, it sounded almost like a threat, but Namjoon simply takes it in, telling himself that he’ll brace for when that day comes. You exit the room to prepare more sheets for him. As much as you deny it, Namjoon knows that you’ve grown quite fond of him. Had you not, then you would’ve left him to die. Still, you looked quite off today.

------

Namjoon cannot remember the last time he had this much sleep. He spent countless nights watching over you, and there were times when he nearly went insane without sleeping but still pulled it off. But now that the tables have turned, you are the one who watches over him at night. However, you’re not experienced in keeping up at night, so your supervision ends rather shortly, falling asleep within an hour.

This particular night, the pain in his stomach is unbearable. Namjoon writhes on the bed, sweating as his injury won’t allow him to sleep. He tosses and turns, but no matter the position, the pain will not go away.

Annoyed by this, Namjoon gets up, sighing as he failed to sleep. He turns to his side, and he sees you sitting on a stool close to the bed, resting the upper half of your body on the bed. Your hand is wrapped around his. This is very reminiscent of the time when you saved him and held onto his hand, but the difference this time is that your grasp is tighter than before. You seem restless, covered in cold sweat and tears won’t stop streaming down your cheeks.

You mumble words under your breath, but Namjoon can’t hear what you’re saying. Whatever is going on in your head, it’s scaring you. Namjoon shakes you gently on the shoulder, but you don’t wake up immediately. His touch scares you even more, your words becoming louder as you exclaim the word ‘no’ repeatedly.

“(Y/N),” Namjoon whispers. “Wake up. You’re dreaming.”

You shot up, gasping for air as if you’ve been broken from a trance. You release your hand from Namjoon’s, hands shaking violently. You look flustered, blinking profusely while trying to figure out where you are. Your heavy breathing leads you to uncontrollable breathing, clutching onto your chest and staring blankly at the bedsheets.

Worried but unsure why, Namjoon cups both of your cheeks to have you focus on him. His paws are too large that it wraps all around your head, so he positions the other hand on your shoulder.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), listen to me, you’re okay, you’re fine. I’m here.” He hushes.

Realizing that it was merely a dream, you shove his paws off of you, clearing your throat, pretending as if that never happened. “You do not have to touch me like that, it was nothing.”

But that wasn’t nothing. He doesn’t understand why you keep imitating confidence when you’re clearly scared.

“No, that was not simply ‘nothing’. You panicked for a reason, so how can you keep calm?”

“This is not a matter worth mentioning. Go back to sleep.”

Namjoon’s patience is running thin with you. He dislikes it when you put up a tough front. “It is worth talking about! Why is it that each time you become hostile whenever you clearly look helpless?? Whenever I offer help, you reject it so harshly.”

“I am not helpless! Stop ogling me as if I’m useless.”

“I am not doing that! I have acknowledged you enough that you are not delicate, still you jump to the conclusion that I still do!!”

“Yes, of course I do!”

“Then what am I doing that makes you think of me as such?!” Namjoon pauses, readying himself to ask something he’s been dying to ask. “What...are you afraid of?”

You open your mouth to retaliate that you’re not afraid, but you stop. You search for an answer in your head, but nothing comes to mind. You aren’t sure why you’re so starstruck by that question.

“Each time I serve you, watch over you, compliment you, you have a look of regret, as if you’ve just committed a sin. Why is that?”

You have no words to say. All you do is frustratedly bite the bottom of your lip.

“Are you...disgusted with me?”

“That’s not it!” You blurt suddenly, but then you immediately curl back up into a ball. “I hate...I hate this pathetic side of me, the side that urges me to become dependent on others. My mother, she is my idol, and she stands on her own, but...but I can’t.”

You grind your teeth, irritated at yourself, all the while trying to prevent tears from falling.

“Every time I feel hopeless, all I can just picture is my mother’s disappointed face. I couldn’t become the daughter she wanted me to be. People who cry, who are scared, who express vulnerability, are weak.”

You hide your face, the overwhelming amount of guilt inside crawls up your body. Even confessing your inner problems made you feel disgusted with yourself, but you had a hidden yearn to cry out.

“(Y/N)...you are your own person. Your mother can say what she pleases, but in the end, it is your life, your decisions. Besides, all humans were born with emotions of disparity, so it is a normal yet important aspect of life, just shunned by the unwritten law of the world.”

Namjoon brushes your hair with his large fingers.

“I believe that by breaking the invisible regulation of what is natural to humans, it only makes you braver. Running from what is natural to you only makes you more of a coward.”

You try to argue against that, but you close your mouth immediately. His words struck deep in your heart and leaving your brain confused. All your life, your mother told you that your weak side is an extra piece of skin needed to be clipped off, but here you are, with a strange beast telling you the opposite.

Namjoon extends his sleeve to wipe what remains of your tears. “Embrace that side of you. You don’t have to nurture it, but acknowledge it and build from it. Running away from it only results in you running in circles and never ending problems.”

Though he wipes your dry tears, it looks like he will have to keep wiping more since new tears are flowing out. You never knew that Namjoon’s words were what you needed all along, but it’s scary at the same time.

For the entirety of your life, you’ve lived by your mother’s words as if they are the epitome of survival. But leaving the forest and learning a new kind of lifestyle from Namjoon is scary. From an outsider’s perspective, Namjoon’s welcoming arms may be accepted, but it’s that very thing that your mother warned you to stray away from. It’s scary going against your mother’s philosophy for the first time. You may have felt guilty many times when Namjoon cared for you, but in the end, you never disliked it. Namjoon’s way of life sounds much more relieving than the stark, malicious world your mother created it to be.

You hold onto Namjoon’s hand, finally releasing all of your emotions that you’ve been holding in. You had a nightmare of the mysterious intruder who nearly killed Namjoon. You fear that there’ll come another night where they’ll return, but this time, they’ll accomplished in killing Namjoon—killing the only person who has accepted you and allowed you to live in your own free will. You want to tell him that that was why you cried in your sleep, but your throat was filled with hiccups that it was difficult to speak. Still, Namjoon wiped your tears away, comforting you until you finally fell asleep again.

------

You lost track of time, but it might’ve been months since your first night in Namjoon’s palace. Namjoon is consistent in his healing process, and he’s improving by the day. It felt long ago since the last time Namjoon had you tied down. You’ve never felt so free in your life, not physically, but mentally as well. The words from your mother no longer haunts you, a leech that has finally been pulled off.

When you’re done fixing breakfast for Namjoon, you usually head off to the garden to conduct your experiments on the crops. With your help, his garden is starting to see life again. You occasionally visit his barn, tending to the animals and petting Run. Once you’re done with both tasks, you like to keep the palace clean, rubbing off the dust and clearing the rooms of pests.

But out of all times of the day, you look forward to the night the most. You never thought of Namjoon as a storyteller. He began telling you stories, and you felt like a child listening to lores that the elderly once told. You loved listening to that hoarse voice of his before drifting off to sleep.

However, as free as you are now, there’s still a piece of you that is still too afraid to accept that weak side of you, so you start slowly by asking him to let you hold his paw before sleeping. It’s a habit that you’ve gotten used to now, and something about holding his hand makes you feel assured—as if you can stand against all of your problems.

You finish the day and before you knew it, the sun already disappeared. You head to the top floor to be in the same room as Namjoon. You couldn’t wait to tell him about how your experiment unexpectedly developed. You want to thank him for permissiving you to use his garden, or thank him for everything. But your research isn’t the only thing that has developed.

You never thought you would see the day that your hatred for Namjoon would turn into something else. You don’t know what to call it yet, but you know that lately, you start to feel restless whenever you’re not around him. Perhaps you’ve become submissive and took an interest in being guarded like a prisoner, but whatever it is, you’re always elated to see Namjoon.

When entering the bedroom, Namjoon is not on the bed. All you see on the bed is the bandages and the dried yarrow dispersed everywhere. There is a figure at the balcony, sitting on the rails while gazing at the full moon. It’s a familiar figure that you haven’t seen in a month—Namjoon in his human form.

You rush to him, worried that due to his heal, he’ll accidentally stumble over and fall off the side. “Namjoon! Get off the railing this instant before you fall.”

Unhinged by your order, Namjoon simply smiles and waves. His clothes are oversized, just like that night. Ignoring you urks the need to repeat your words, but you hold yourself back. You approach him, leaning on the opposite end of the balcony, silently staring at the ground.

“Are you not going to question why I am a human again?”

“...I can already conjecture that it is some sort of curse, isn’t it?”

Namjoon smiles, and you notice that Namjoon in his human form has dimples. “In it’s most basic form, yes, it is a curse.”

Silence once again fall upon you and Namjoon. You are aware that this is the same Namjoon, but he still feels like a stranger to you. The first time you saw him as a human, you had no time to take it in the moment, but now you’re in a situation where you can hammer him with all your wonders.

“I’m a handsome fellow, aren’t I?” He jesters, posing with his hands to his hips.

You scoff. “I’ve seen better.”

But that’s a lie. You’ve never seen anyone more gorgeous than Namjoon, both inside and out. You just did not want feed into his pride, even if it was simply a joke.

Namjoon heaves one brief laugh, but a laugh didn’t feel sincere. When you look at him, he looks bothered. Something is eating inside of him.

“I am truly gracious for your guardianship. Because of your arduous efforts, I have been healed of all physical detriment.”

You don’t understand why he’s speaking formally so suddenly. You cannot help but feel on edge for what he may say next.

“You did say that you’d like the interrogate me once I’m all fixed, correct? Well then...I’m ready.”

Your eyes widen, as it is hard for you to believe that Namjoon is finally giving you the opportunity to ask. All those unanswered questions will be answered tonight: those rules, his need to save you, everything.

But...you no longer feel the urge to ask such questions. You are satisfied with your life that finding the solution for them is unnecessary. While it holds true that you craved to know, you learned that it was because you wanted to feel in control of your situation and demanded answers. Now that Namjoon has taught you not to desire power, you deem it futile. However, there is something you’d like to know about Namjoon.

“Tell me about you.”

Namjoon looks astonished, not expecting you to ask that of all things. He doubts it at first, but he wants to keep to his words, so he sighs, embracing the memories that he had locked up years ago.

“...My grandfather died when my father was still young, so he was crowned king while in his prepubescent stage. He lived a grandeur life, being spoiled to the core by the land and the servants. The people...were secondary to him. Because of his rotten soul, a woman who practices witchcraft once pleaded him to allow her to stay for one night, but he refused. As revenge, the woman cursed him with a beastly appearance, and the only way to be cured from it was true, mutual love from him and his lover. And after years of despising his appearance, my mother came into his life. She was lost in the forest, and he watched her from the highest point of this palace, immediately falling in love with her.”

This sounds outrageous, as it is impossible in all standards of science. But then again, you cannot explain why Namjoon is a beast other than magic.

“He demanded that she live with him, giving her a life of luxury in exchange. But with his appearance, my mother feared him. No matter how kind he was, my mother rejected him. And after months of constant rejection, my mother gave in and said that she fell in love with him, and he returned back to his human form. Everyone thought that it was a happy ending for them...until I came to existence.

“When my mother was giving birth to me, she wasn’t expecting a hideous, hairy monster as her first son. She was so frightened by my appearance that the nurses told me that she died of a heart attack. Soon after the love of his life died, my father couldn’t stand a life without her, so he took his own life. That day when my father killed himself, I was only three days old, and I already became king of this land.”

There is a heavy air between you and Namjoon. You blink profusely, thinking of words of solace, but none come to mind. They died before he ever got to experience parental love, and it was because of him.

“B-but it doesn’t make sense. If the curse was upheld when your parents fell in love with each other, then why are you…” You trail off, not wanting to call him a ‘beast’.

“...My mother was delusional and my father was stubborn. She wanted to be freed while all my father wanted was for her to fall in love with him. When she saw that this will be her permanent future, her brain fooled her in believing that she was in love with him. In reality, that was the only way she was able to cope with her insanity—imitating an emotion that she never once felt for my father. I can say that the curse was partly uplifted, as every full moon, I revert into my human form, whereas my father couldn’t. All this time, it was merely a one-sided love.”

Namjoon cannot help but laugh at his own misery. You don’t see the reason for laughing at such a heavy topic.

“Sounds oddly familiar, doesn’t it?”

Thought at first, you had no idea what his reference was, until you thought about yourself. He also forced you to live with him unwillingly and tied you down against your will.

You don’t want him to think that he’s repeating his father’s history. You move closer to Namjoon, but he avoids eye contact at all cost. There’s nothing but guilt written on his face. You cup both of his cheeks to make him look at you, not expecting his skin to feel so soft. But Namjoon still averts his eyes.

“Don’t say that. You are not your father. You learned from his selfishness, and you even taught me how to be selfless,” you lean forward to rest your forehead on his. “These past few months of being with you have been the best, and I could’ve never asked for anything else. Yes, I wanted to run away, but I’ve never felt more at home than with you. Namjoon, I...I lov-”

“Don’t.”

You’re hurt to hear Namjoon already declining your confession. Namjoon puts his hands on your shoulders, pushing you away gently, but still maintaining that handsome smile of his.

“I do not want you to rush your feelings. What you feel for me may be a mistake,” Namjoon takes your hand and puts it over his cheek. “I do not want someone important to me fall under the same fate as my mother.”

Though he looks confident, Namjoon’s hands are shaking. He must’ve been scared to tell you about himself—that you’ll leave him as soon as you heard it. But you will not leave him, nor do you have plans of ever leaving him. He may not believe you, but your words are true. Just as Namjoon said, you won’t rush it. He claims that it is for your sake, but you know that it is because he’s afraid of being loved.

While you two huddle close, there lies a spy, watching the pair behind a tree. He scratches at the bark, watching as Namjoon hold onto you.

------

“You won’t be sleeping in the bed?” Namjoon asks.

You shake your head. “I have gotten used to nodding off on the stool.”

“But if you continue substituting the chair as your bed, then you’ll surely have back pains! Come, sleep on the bed. I will sleep on the chair tonight.”

“No, just because you’ve recovered today does not excuse you from sleeping on the bed.”

This trivial dispute continues on a little further. Realizing that the both of you are too stubborn to back down, Namjoon has an idea.

“Very well. Either we both sleep on the chair, or we sleep together in bed.”

Your face explodes with red. For someone who wants to only be seen as an independent woman, your innocence really shines.

“How vulgar! Sleeping with an unmarried man is...is…!”

“But there is no one else to judge, correct? Don’t worry about me doing anything lewd. I have no intentions of that,” Namjoon shrugs his shoulders facetiously. “If not, then off to the stool I’ll go.”

“No!” You hide your flushed face behind the palm of your head. “Fine...then I’ll...s-s...sleep with you.”

You feel as though you’re committing the biggest sin. Though marriage is definitely not a priority for you, you know well enough that it is not ethical to sleep with another person when you still have yet to give your hand in marriage.

You grip onto the skirt of your dress, dragging your feet to the side that Namjoon does not occupy. You cannot fathom the amount of idiocy that Namjoon has for asking such a coarse request. Did he or did he not just tell you not to rush your feelings a moment ago?

You get in bed, taking as much blanket you need and move away from Namjoon as far as you can. He rests on his side, watching how you attempt to sleep. He can tell how bashful you are by how red your ears are. Namjoon wishes you a good night before blowing out the candle from the lantern.

Now in complete darkness, you think about Namjoon’s history. It is undeniably a sad one at that. You were aware that your father never loved you from the start, but you know your mother did. To be the reason why your parents are dead is unimaginable, and Namjoon must’ve blamed himself all his life. And now, he fears that he’s reliving his father’s mistake by taking you in.

You turn around, and under the grim colors of the night, you see Namjoon’s back facing you. Under the sheets, you tug the bottom of his shirt to alert his attention.

“Namjoon…”

“Yes?”

“That night in the forest...did you save me because you fell in love with me?”

Your heart pounds, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation for the answer. You don’t know where the courage came from, but after asking, you instantly regret.

“No, my reasons are different.”

You felt a sharp pain pierce through your heart. You had hoped that he saved you because he fell in love with you the moment he saw you, but you had your hopes too high.

“Perhaps one day I shall tell you, but not tonight.”

“Why not now?”

“...Because telling you my reason is harder than telling you my backstory. I dread that if I spill everything, you’ll definitely loathe me. I’ve gotten quite attached to you, and I don’t think I can live with the thought of you hating me again.”

What is more difficult than a traumatic childhood?

“...What are you afraid of, Namjoon?”

Namjoon doesn’t reply for a while. For a second, you thought Namjoon had fallen asleep.

“...To live.”

You had thought that your fears were problematic, but his is worst. If he is afraid to live, then does that mean that he goes through every day in fear?

“(Y/N)...Can...can you promise me one thing?”

“What is it?”

“Promise...you won’t leave?”

You pause, hesitant to answer.

“You don’t have to be sincere about it, I just...just want to sleep peacefully tonight.”

“I won’t.”

“...Thank you.”

------

“Run, stay close to me.” You shout to Namjoon’s hound, Run, as he runs wildly.

You and Run have gone beyond the bridge to pick some wild berries. Winter is nigh, so you thought it’s best to store up on food for the time being. Namjoon is currently busy fixing the holes in his palace, so he had Run go with you. Though Run was skeptical of you at first, he eventually grew attached to you, and now he has a desire to protect you as much as Namjoon does.

The following morning, Namjoon reverted back to his beastly form, once again making the night prior feel like a dream. Of course, when he returned to his other form, his size took up almost the entire bed, and you nearly fell off. You’re unsure if he asked you to sleep on the bed with him that night simply because he wanted to tease you like that or he authentically cared for you. Either way, you knew you should’ve just been stubborn and remain on the stool.

After walking far enough, you found a bush bustling with berries. You let Run roam around freely as you pick the magenta berries. You pick the berries from the bushes, checking to see if any mold or insects are living on it, and if any, you either toss it aside or clean it with your sleeve. You continue this procedure until you’ve picked from every corner.

When you look up, you take note of Run, who is staring at a specific direction, ears perked up as if he heard someone or something. Run is usually an energetic hound, but whenever he senses danger, he stiffs up and stares at it.

“What is it, Run?”

Suddenly, he begins to bark at the direction. You had not bring a weapon with you, so attacking whatever hides is pointless. You order Run to stop barking, so you two can flee.

“What an imprudent mongrel. Even after all these years, he never trained this animal proper manners.”

You recognize that voice, and it is a voice that you were never able to get out of your head. It’s the same voice you heard on the balcony. Judging by his tone when speaking about Run, you know that this person is not one to be reckoned with.

“Run, let’s go!”

You and Run sprint the opposite direction back to the palace. You have to warn Namjoon of this man before he gets there. The voice calls out from behind you, but you ignore it.

But you hear a loud bang, something flying faster than sound and hitting the tree directly next to you. Splinters scatter around, some hitting your face, and the ringing echoing in your ear once the soundwaves get to you.

You drop to the ground, hidden behind a bush in case whatever shot at you was some sort of weapon. You finally get a glimpse of the culprit, and it’s a middle-aged man with a large hunch over his back. His scarlet, frizzy hair bounces with every step he takes, looking for you.

“(Y/N), please do not misinterpret. I do not seek to harm you in any way. I merely shot at you because there was no other way to stop you from running.”

How does he know your name? In fact, Namjoon knew your name as well, but this is not the time to be thinking about him.

“Come out, I beg of you. I apologize for that unruly introduction. Show yourself so we can have a proper conversation.”

You dare not to, but Run jumps out of the bushes before you do. It is in the hound’s desires to protect you, so he lunges at the hunched man. But the man takes out a metal object and whips Run across the jaw, landing face first. Now lying on the grass, Run kicks his feet while he whimpers, the pain being excruciating.

“Run!” You jump out of the bush to Run’s aid. “You callous monster!”

You want to attack the man, but Run’s health comes first. The impact was large enough to create an open wound below Run’s mouth. A tooth has also fallen out and blood flows out of his mouth. You use the cloak that you borrowed from Namjoon to cover the poor dog’s mouth.

“How can you call me that when that canine was the one about to hurt me?” He asks, twirling the metal object by the rim in his index fingers.

You peek at the object used to hurt Run, and it’s a weapon you’ve seen once. It’s a pistol, one that only the wealthy can afford and use. You don’t know much about the pistol, but you know enough that the bullets are unavoidable. Judging by the gaping hole in the tree, you know that you won’t be able to escape it while carrying Run.

The man crouches to your eye level, ogling you with his head tilted whilst fantasizing. “My, my. Look at you, you have such a strong resemblance to our messiah.”

Messiah? With your blurred mind worried about Run and the hazard that this stranger brings, you are in no right mind to be thinking.

“Excuse me, I have yet to introduce myself. I apologize, as I was simply jubilant just seeing our new leader! My name is Mireth, your mother’s former right-hand man.”

‘Leader’? ‘Mireth’? Your mother?? All these spinning around your head and nothing is making sense.

“Oh? I assumed that monster of a king already explained everything, but I am not surprised. After all, you wouldn’t have embraced him like a weak woman. Tell me, how much as he told you? About your mother?”

“He...he knows nothing of my mother!”

Mireth looks confused but then bursts into a fit of laughter. “You poor, poor child! It seems like you’ve been kept under the sun all this time! Then, as one of your mother’s loyal followers, allow me to bless your knowledge about your mother.”

He sits down, as if everything he’s done to you and Run has never happened. Thankfully, Run has stopped thrashing, calming down but breathing heavily. When he motions close to you, you move back, pulling Run with you.

“Have you ever wondered why the king’s palace is so empty?”

He waits for a reply, but you don’t even flinch.

“Well, it wasn’t always like that. Many years ago, King Namjoon welcomed people who have been exiled from their villages due to their abnormalities, including me,” he points to his hunch, then to the large lump that has grown over his eye. “The place was rattled with people who had similar traits, and he make his palace is place where we could accept ourselves, our ugliness.”

“Then what does this have to do with my mother?”

“Do you remember your mother was accused of being a witch?”

You move back, but you nod your head slowly.

“The king also found your mother. When she saw the state in that he raised us in, she disliked it greatly. While the environment may have been pleasing, we were just dolls, living through our days pretending as if the pain and suffering we went through was nothing...The disgusted look on the faces of the ‘normals’, we had to forget about them. Namjoon failed us to give a place to express our anger. He wanted us to forget, to become frail.

“But your mother saw through his lies unlike us. She taught us the ways of becoming powerful, standing up against those who turn their heads from us. If we continue to brush away those who take advantage of us, then we will live only a short life. She told us to forget about the sides that made us weak and only nurture the sides that make us strong become stronger. You see, I would’ve been a useless bundle of flesh had it not been for your mother. Though, I am awful at archery, I handle guns better.”

He strokes the pistol in his hand. You can’t take his words as the truth, but you can’t find any other reason why he would lie.

“...I’m assuming he has not told you this, but when your mother tried to save us from his lies, he disliked it. He tried to stop her when we stood up against him and the other weaklings, and he killed your mother with his own bare claws.”

Trepidation overcomes you, dragging you in a pit of pitch-black, void of nothing else other than horror. You thought about how Namjoon carried daggers around often, and those sharp claws of his can easily puncture any sort of skin.

Merith leans closer to whisper in your ear. “Your mother promised that you would avenge her death, so King Namjoon was scared, knowing how persuasive her words  can be. And so...he went out every day in search of the woman who resembles your mother. Thus, he found you.”

“My reasons are different.” Rings in your head.

In your eyes, you see Run resting and succumbing to his wounds, but in your head, you thought about was how at any given possibility, Namjoon could’ve killed you. He kidnapped you not because he loved you, but because he feared you. He didn’t seek you out because he wanted to save you, but he wanted to prevent you from becoming free-willed like your mother.

Merith reaches his hand out to you. “And I have come to save you. After our group fled, we have not been doing well on our own, and eventually...I became the remaining one. Come...let us avenge your mother’s death and become our next Messiah. Let us go and enlighten others.”

You stare at his hand—his rough, veiny hands covered in callous. Namjoon clearly kept this away from you because he knew what you were capable of. You are crushed after hearing the full truth, and you feel broken inside. All those words he said to you must’ve been a lie to keep you tame, not to reach your full potential of becoming as influential as your mother—the woman you once admired greatly.

And with one quick swipe, you slap his hand away. Caught off-guard, Merith is in utter shock. You look at him with an expression of discontempt.

“I am not my mother, nor am I her copy.”

Merith clenches his fist in anger, standing up and grinding his teeth. “You fool! You rather spend the rest of your days locked up in a palace with a monster than lead a group to liberty?!”

You lower your head, feeling Run’s slow breathing, but still alive. “What I care about right now is giving Run medical attention. What Namjoon did to my mother...I will seek his answer.”

“...Oh dear god. He has brainwashed you thoroughly,” Merith looks at you with pity. “Very well. But as caution, if you make the decision to return to him, I will let you know that you made a fatal mistake. I will come back and avenge our Messiah’s death on my own.”

But you could care less. You pick up Run, and you escape. Merith watches you from behind, promising that he won’t let you go that easily.

You don’t know what to do with this new information. When you see Namjoon, will you look at him the same? If you had not changed, then you would’ve taken Merith’s words and help murder Namjoon, but those months you’ve spent with Namjoon, you cannot look at him as a monster. Indeed, he may be a beast on the outside, but he’s a gentle person with a soft heart.

If he saw you as a monster, then so be it. Had he not, then you would’ve never met him.

------

You barge into the palace, looking for Namjoon everywhere. You call out his name, desperate to find him and tell him of Run’s condition. Thankfully, you found him on the first floor in one of the empty rooms, about to block the hole, but hasn’t yet.

When he sees what happened to Run, he looks horrified. He drops everything to look at Run. “Run! What in the world happened?!”

“He was attacked. He won’t die, but he needs to be bandaged this instance.”

Namjoon runs off to look for spare bandages.

Wrapped in a bundle of blankets, Run sleeps peacefully after being tended to. Sitting on the floor, you and Namjoon are on each side of Run. Namjoon looks frustrated, as he doesn’t need to know from you to know who attacked Run. His injury is not similar to an animal attack whatsoever.

“It was...a human who did this, wasn’t it?”

You nod.

You’re kneeling on the cold floor, your palms cupping your knees. You clutch them tightly, wanting to ask him about Merith’s words, but too afraid to confront him.

“Namjoon...why...did you not tell me anything?”

He remains silent.

“Why did I have to hear it from a stranger’s mouth that you knew my mother? That she is the reason why I am here with you? You were scared of me from the start because I resembled my mother, isn’t that right?”

“...It is true. I picked you up from the forest because I was afraid that you’ll become a part of the cult that she created. I didn’t tell you because you love your mother so much that if...if you knew about my connections with her, you’ll only grow to become more like her. And whenever I looked at your face, all I saw was her, and it always brought back bad memories...my mistake of letting her in.”

It hurts knowing that he saw you that way, but then you can’t argue because you saw him like that as well.

“(Y/N), she plotted to murder everyone who she deemed unfit for this world. She knew how to make people feel important, then she searches for what angers you to motivate you to become a murderer. She gathered all of her followers and slaughtered everyone in my palace who she viewed as frail. That’s why I...I…”

“...Had to kill my mother.” You grudgingly finish the sentence, but you knew it’d come to this conclusion.

“...Yes. So...I dreaded the day of finding you in the forest, and...and when I found you, you resemble your mother so much that it was terrifying but...there was a tiny spark in you that was different.”

You look at him with a surprised look on your face.

“When you were alone, you expressed a bit of your vulnerable side, as if crying out for help. Your mother wiped that part of herself from ever existing...but you wanted to break free.”

You remember the times when you were alone. When you were in the forest, when he tried to bathe you the first time, when you cried yourself to sleep—afraid that Namjoon was going to die, you cried to yourself.

“Instead of killing you, I wanted to change you for the better and help you become your own person. Not mine, not your mother’s, but you,” he looks away, still feeling somewhat guilty. “And that feeling of uneasiness when being with you disappeared, and I started to feel better whenever I got every opportunity to be with you. You’re...nothing like your mother.”

Namjoon had fought a war with himself, scared of you but hoping you would change. He had those worries all along, and you were too busy looking out for yourself to realize that. You’re aware that you never treated him kindly, and you even tried taking advantage of him. But he was always one step ahead of you.

When he admitted to killing your mother, you didn’t feel the apprehension you felt when Merith first brought it up. Your mother has become a distant memory, yet she’s hurt so many people, including you and Namjoon, that it somewhat feels like a good riddance. She was a villain deserving of death, and you nearly followed the same path.

“And you did change me.” You perk up a smile.

You smiled for the first time in front of Namjoon, and he feels his heart skipping a beat. He never thought that his enemy would become someone he needed in his life. He was always afraid of loving someone, but perhaps with you, he can change as well.

“(Y/N)...I…”

Just then, a shadow peers over the window. It’s Merith, and he’s pointing his pistol over the windowsill, directly at the back of Namjoon’s head. Merith came back to keep his promise of ridding Namjoon for your mother’s sake.

And just like that, Merith shot two bullets through the window. It ended up not shooting Namjoon, but at you. You had enough time to shield him from the bullets, hitting you on at the shoulder, and another one right in your stomach. You don’t know where the first bullet landed first, but all you know is that it burns at where he shot. You cough out blood, having it splatter all over yourself then on the floor.

You fall to your knees, and Namjoon catches you. Everything happened so quickly that before he realized it, you already lost a portion of your blood. Merith clicks the roof of his mouth, annoyed by your unnecessary heroic act and fled.

But in a fit of rage, Namjoon breaks through the hole in the wall and chases after Merith. You cry out for Namjoon, wanting him to come back, but your blood clogs your throat, making it difficult for you to form words. You turn your head to Run still asleep, and you curse yourself for getting your blood on that poor dog.

------

“(Y/N)...alive...please...don’t...don’t die…”

Namjoon is in your field of vision. You don’t know why he’s crying so much.

------

Your stomach hurts when Namjoon carries you upstairs. If only he wasn’t so rough when running upstairs.

------

Why is the sunset so annoying? It’s glaring in your eyes.

------

You’re awaken by the sudden pain in your stomach, being pressed down by a two large paws. Namjoon is attempting to suppress the blood flow, but it won’t stop coming out. Your wounds are burning, and you want it to stop being so cruel You scream, clawing at Namjoon’s hairy forearm to make it stop.

“(Y/N)! Tell me what to do! I don’t know what to do!”

But you only clench your teeth. All you can think about is the pain in your stomach, and you want it to go away.

“Stop making it hurt. It hurts so much…” You whimper out.

“I-it’s similar to taking out an arrow, correct? B-but...a bullet is so small. I don’t know how to take it out. I don’t know what to do…”

“Please...please...it hurts…”

You say before your mind going blank once again, going in and out of conscious.

------

You never realized how uncomfortable the bed is, no matter how much you kick your legs around, it only makes it more uncomfortable.

------

You feel something wrap around your stomach, and you see Namjoon trying to wrap the wound with dirty bandages. He’s doing a poor job at it.

------

“Blood...won’t stop…”

You can hear Namjoon speaking to himself again, but you don’t understand why he’s so worried.

------

Over the balcony is the quarter moon. The sun isn’t hurting your eyes anymore. How long has it been? All you know is that it’s so wet and sticky around your stomach and shoulder.

------

“Yarrow...where…(Y/N)...listen to...where is...yarrow…?”

You hear him, and he looks so desperate. His words are a bit more clearer than before, and you can hear the pain at the end of each word. You cannot stand seeing him cry no longer, so you point to where the farrows grow. You hope that’ll soothe him.

------

The next time you regain consciousness, you’re met with an unfamiliar and dark surrounding. You hear leaves and branches constantly being crunched and an out-of-breath voice. You feel the gale hitting you quickly, and it’s so cold. Whatever you’re riding on, it’s warm and furry.

You finally realize that you’re no longer in the palace, but in the forest, riding on Namjoon’s back as he runs through the forest in search of the farrows. You’re unsure about how long you’ve been outside, but based on Namjoon’s tired breath, you estimate you’ve been outside for quite some time.

“N-Namjoon…?” You feel so weak that it’s hard to even speak.

Your stomach and shoulder feels sore, and there’s something leaking from the gaping holes, presumably your blood.

“Don’t speak, everything will be alright. You will recover, don’t worry.” He mumbles hurriedly.

There’s a voice inside you, telling you that you won’t have long to live. If you don’t pour out your feelings to Namjoon, then you’ll feel terrible for leaving him to eat the dust.

“Namjoon...I…’m sorry for taking advantage of you…”

“(Y/N), what are you blabbering about?? Get some rest.”

“I am sorry for saying that I’ll tell people to kill you, that you are deserving of Hell. I should’ve spoken to you in a softer voice, treasure you as if my most precious.”

“(Y/N)...” Namjoon’s voice is a bit shaken. “Why are you speaking as if you’re leaving?”

“I think...I made a new discovery about potatoes. D-do you know how when we stand still in the sunlight for too long, our skin burns? There’s an invisible lightwave that the sun exudes that affects the potatoes, messing up the components that create the potato skin. I think...there is a light that we cannot see that affects all of us. Our eyes are too weak to see it.”

You cannot help but giggle a little.

“Don’t you think that’s what happened to you? There’s an invisible ray from the moonlight that intervenes with the components of your skin that reverts you into becoming a human. However, the light of the moon is not as strong as the sun, so it has to be the full moon to reach its full potential. It’s not some nonsensical spell, but just science we have yet to discover…?”

“(Y/N), stop it this instant.”

“But what I fail to understand is...is why do you have to confess our mutual love for one another to uplift the supposed curse? What effect does words have to uplift nonexistent magic?” The soreness from your stomach stops you from talking for a moment.

“Stop pushing yourself to speak! You only speak in riddles!!” His voice becomes desperate for you not to say the dreaded words. “I will find the yarrow, and you’ll be healed in no time, okay?”

“...But still...I am very grateful that you saved me that day...and if saving you from that curse is all I can do, then I feel obligated to do so.”

“STOP! D-don’t!”

“Namjoon...I love you very much, and there will be nothing to change that fact...” you give him one last smile. “You can finally let go of me and your fears...Do not be afraid to live.”

And with those words, it uplifts Namjoon’s curse of being a ferocious beast. He can feel himself shrinking, losing his fur on his skin. His paws shifts into hands, hind legs becoming human legs. His nocturnal vision worsens, and so does his strength.

Because he is not used to his limited human strength, you suddenly become too heavy for him. He accidentally falls to the ground, dropping you in the process. You roll on the ground, but not moving an inch because you’ve lost your consciousness.

Namjoon pats the dirt, his vision only seeing black, but he barely manages to see the shape of your figure lacking movement. He crawls to you, mumbling the words ‘no’ many times over as he carries your white, cold body.

“Take back what you said...Please...take it all back. If it meant losing you, then I did not want to hear that…” He says under his breath has he sobs uncontrollably.

Namjoon cradles you in your arms, burying his head into your shoulder, letting his tears soak into your dress. Why couldn’t he have been the one who was shot? His body was large enough to take in the shots, or at least better than you could. He continues to shed tears, about to lose the last person who has ever loved him.

But...when Namjoon lifts his head up, he notices a familiar plant right beside you. He wipes the tears from his eyes to look at the plant more closely. And that is when it hits him: those are yarrow plants.

Namjoon sets you down and picks the plants with his shaky hands. Without a doubt, these are yarrows, yet they are fresh ones. He recalls you saying that dried ones are more effective, but he is not going to risk wasting time to make the perfect medicine.

He unwinds the bandages around your stomach and shoulder, exposing your wounds to the night air. He wipes his tears and sniffs, bringing himself back from the despair and clinging onto the hope that you’ll survive. No, not hope that you’ll survive, but you will.

Namjoon leans down, kissing you softly on the lips like that of a prince kissing the princess to revive her from the dead. He will not let you die tonight, not when he never got the chance to tell you how much he loves you.

------

Epilogue

“My daughter, (Y/N), is identical to me in both appearance, intelligence, and morals,” your mother tells Namjoon. “And you really thought that my legacy would end here?”

Namjoon is wary of your mother, keeping a clear distance from her. Downstairs, he can hear the cries of the many people who are precious to him being slaughtered by her followers. He wants nothing more than to rush downstairs to save them from their pain, but your mother blocks his only way downstairs.

“My daughter resembles me so intensely that I can estimate that in a few years, she’ll follow in the same path as me, be excommunicated by our dimwitted village, and be sent here as your ‘food’. Just as I did,” she states with a graceful smile.

She takes a step forward, causing Namjoon to flinch.

“Intriguing, is it not? Once you’ve mastered the human behavior, you can practically predict where the entire universe step towards.”

Your mother takes another step, but this time, Namjoon refuses to move. She motions closer, and closer, but Namjoon is so fearful that his feet is frozen in place. She is close enough to where she holds onto his hands ever so gently.

“Knowing my daughter, I can think of two outcomes: she learns about my legacy and continues it out of grudge against you, or...you become so paranoid about the first option that you take her in and rid her of my philosophies. You will live your life with my daughter, starved of peaceful nights and constantly on guard. And perhaps through all of that, you two might fall in love. The chances of a romantic encounter are higher since you two are in the same age range, and you are a rather handsome fellow, when you’re human, of course.”

Your mother giggles, but Namjoon only snarls.

“But...out of the two options, I prefer the latter. I know if you soften my daughter, she won’t live long because Merith will intervene at some point. I think it’d be interesting how that unfolds—to see from Hell the intense amount of pain and distraught you’ll go through, seeing someone you love die in front of you. That, to me, is a punishment worse than death.”

She caresses Namjoon’s long fingers, staring at it with a dazed expression.

“And I hope you’ll experience that with my beloved daughter. I will see you and my daughter in Hell soon, King Namjoon.”

Your mother grasps onto Namjoon’s large fingers tightly, having his sharp claws pointing below her chin. With great force, she pierces through her throat, his nails digging deep into her air tubes. Petrified, Namjoon swipes his hand back, blood gushing out of the gaping holes. Your mother struggles to breathe, covering her bloody holes with her hands to no avail. She stiffens has she steps backward, her entire body now covered in her own blood.

She falls to the ground, painting the concrete floor with red. Her hands smear the blood as if creating abstract art. And with the last light in her eyes, she gazes at Namjoon, the ends of her lips curling upward and eyes widen with insanity. That everlasting look on her face is forever embedded in his memories, the horrors of seeing the light die out in her eyes.

Namjoon leans back from his chair, eyes closed as he remembers every moment of that vividly. He was writing in his journal when an unhappy memory slid through his concentration. It happens from time to time, but it’s inevitable when you’re left alone with your thoughts, and it drives to your most unwanted memories. It was that last look at your mother that scarred him for eternity, and even to this day, it terrifies him. However, he knows that there is no cure for distasteful recollections and must live with it each day, but he won’t let it take advantage of his life no more.

He hears a knock on his door, turning his head to see an old man, smiling. “Lord Namjoon, the young princess is looking for you.”

He perks up a smile, showing his one-sided dimple. “Tell her I will be there in a moment.”

“Actually…” The old man trails off.

“Father!!” A young girl runs towards Namjoon, running right into his leg.

The old man smiles before leaving the two to be alone. Behind his daughter is his bloodhound, Run, keeping close to her. The hound has gotten too old to be running wildly, but he still has a lot of life in him. His daughter proceeds to tug on his pants, pulling him out of the chair.

“What is it, child?”

“Mother and Gil demanded that you leave your room and help with the garden. Mother said that it’s unhealthy to be alone for too long. Now hurry!”

Namjoon smiles, then stands up from the chair to calm his daughter down. She holds onto his hand while dragging him downstairs, and Run follows them.

Downstairs is bristling with life, people of all sorts of shape, size, and colors coming together. They are people who are outliers in their own hometowns but are welcomed in here. It took years, but he eventually regained the confidence to open the doors to his palace again. Many of the residents greet Namjoon, typically by bowing or greeting with a ‘hello’. He has no time to stop and have minor conversations with them since his daughter is hauling him to the garden by the barn.

In the large field of tall grass, there are two figures by the edge of the soil-covered garden. It’s sprouting with green life, droplets of fresh water rolling down the leaves. Namjoon and his daughter approach the two people kneeling by the borders, a young boy and a woman. The boy notices Namjoon first, so he runs towards him with a wide grin. Run approaches the boy first, begging him to pet him.

“Good afternoon, Father,” the boy bows slightly in politeness. “And good afternoon to you too, Run.”

“Good afternoon, Gilbert. Helping your mother I see.”

“Yes, we’ve been at it since morning, you see…” Gilbert, presumably Namjoon’s son, turns to his mother. “I’m concerned that Mother will be burned by the sun by the time she finishes her studies…”

Namjoon stares at his wife, who’s close enough to hear the conversation, but she’s so focused on her work that she does not pay attention.

“Alright Gil, take your sister and go inside. We’ll be preparing dinner soon.”

Gilbert nods, taking his younger sister’s hand and running inside. Namjoon approaches his wife and kneels down next to her, his eyes not once leaving her. Her eyebrows are creased, her full concentration on the vegetables growing, jotting down subtle differences in each vegetation.

“Gil is worried that you’ll be sunburned. Shall we head back?”

“In a minute…” You answer half-heartedly, too focused on the growing tomato.

While his eyes glued onto you, his mind trails off, wondering when he exactly fell in love with you. He can never pinpoint an exact time, but he knew that it developed slowly. It always piques his interest that the daughter of the woman he once feared is the one he will be with for the rest of his life.

A bit annoyed by how your research is more important than him, he gets your attention by kissing you on the cheek. Your head jolts up, putting your hand where he kissed you and your face becoming flushed with red.

“Wh-what...what was the reason for that?!”

Despite being married for years now, you still react the same, and he adores it.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

Your irritation dissipates, your entire face becoming redder. You hide your face behind your papers, not wanting him to win over you and see how bashful you are.

“I know...you tell me every day. And I always tell you the same words.”

Namjoon holds you by the hand, which you gladly allow him to take. He recalls his mother’s words, that once you master the psychology of human behavior, anyone can predict the future. But...that is where your mother’s theory fails. He believes that humans are unpredictable, which is why they’ll survive longer than any other species out there.

And he proved her theory wrong. Because if she was right, then you wouldn’t be right beside him, married to him with two wonderful children. The palace would’ve still been empty, Namjoon being the only one there.

“I should’ve thanked your mother before I killed her.”

Content with the life that he’s living, he rests his head on your shoulder, nuzzling his forehead like a giddy child. You pat him on the head, combing his hair between your fingers.

“What is with this dark humor all of a sudden? Are you feeling well?”

“Because had it not been for her, then I would’ve never met you.” He smiles, intertwining his fingers with yours.

The End

(A/N): Thank you for reading this! If you have anything to tell me about the fic, good or bad, then don’t be afraid to message me!

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