#unrelated and very surface level observation but i think | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

severus-snaps · 5 months ago

Text

thanks for the additions!! I have some additional thoughts (ofc) on some of your points and this is so much fun to discuss:

it's not enough just to see someone's thoughts - you must be able to interpret them too, ie. have a good understanding of that person and what those thoughts might mean to them, what that person's perspective is etc. In short, you need to be empathetic enough to understand a person in order to interpret their thoughts. This also indicates to me that Snape was both a very good judge of character...

I think Voldemort absolutely had that sort of skill to know how best to 'read' (and manipulate) people; he could be charming, and popular, and offered different things to different people - and withheld different things from different people as punishment (there's also a really good meta somewhere, I think it was this one but I've not recently read the whole thing, about Voldemort and the Death Eaters as a sort of cult rather than a political movement that I think discusses this). I feel like this ties into how he uses Legilimency, but I'd need someone with a brain that cares for more than just Snape to verify if I'm on the right track

I did also have a (longer bit of) section that I lost somewhere about Voldemort's handicaps in terms of not understanding love and empathy, which I think really ties into this in terms of what Snape would've chosen to present, because...

as you say, it shows that Snape has exceptionally good theory of mind. He'd know what to present, and how best to present it, because he knows how Voldemort might interpret it in turn (they'd be absolutely brutal in a game of chess)

unrelated to everything, but just had a moment where I imagined Ron and Snape in a "Snape lives" fic playing chess and Ron insists on wearing mirror sunglasses because he's convinced that Snape's cheating by using Legilimency but Snape's actually just really good at interpreting what people might do

Sort of related to that, I've decided this is a mix of learnt skill, pattern recognition, or hyperempathy, as I headcanon Snape as autistic and he clearly lacked such skills as a child if his early interactions with Lily and the others are anything to go by

And sort of related to that, I feel that Voldemort might have been the one to teach Snape. We know he applies for a Spy position at Hogwarts on Voldemort's orders, we can infer that he kept a reasonably low profile until then. So why wouldn't the world's greatest Legilimens, in line with this, teach his potential spy (one with a slight natural ability at Legilimency and daddy issues a mile wide to exploit for the low low cost of light praise) how best to gather information covertly? Which leads me to this:

legilimency is often denoted through the description of a character's eyes boring into another's. This would indicate that Snape read Harry's mind well before he taught him Occlumency

Firmly agree; this is my favourite on the topic, and I keep thinking about Snape's glimmering eyes in this context

However, we're lead by the narrative to think that Legilimency can be perceived, because the thought being observed floats to the front of the person's consciousness - which happens sometimes, but not others. I don't have anything interesting to say about this, other than: ???

I also don't have anything interesting, but I do have a theory: minds are like onions, and they have layers

I'm joking, but only just. Legilimency can be, I think, done to different depths. (the following titles are just for effect, I haven't given it much thought before writing it so bear with)

Skimming: very surface level skimming of the mind, just a vibe check (how Snape does in early books with glimmering, boring, or otherwise described "meeting" eyes, how Dumbledore's 'twinkle' sometimes). This has no discernable effect on the person being skimmed, other than Harry gets the uncomfortable idea that Snape can read minds and that Dumbledore knows more than he should - but Harry doesn't, as far as I can tell, take this any more seriously than the average person would

'Hearing': When Snape and Harry 'duel' I don't remember there being any indication other than Snape repeatedly blocking Harry's spells that Harry could tell, or feel it, exactly - but Snape knew what words (or intentions?) were forming anyway. I like to think that if thoughts are especially clear - incantations being a good example, as they require some focus - then words can 'pop out' and be "mind read" (which Snape would hate being called that :P). I also like to headcanon that Snape, as part of his natural ability, sometimes heard people's insults even when they were left unsaid, if the thought were salient enough. Imagine in school all the girls thinking you're ugly and you can hear them even when they haven't said a word, or like a Pottermore (I think) article said he could feel Lily's budding attraction to James even if she never said (Also: "The intensity of (Snape's) gaze made her blush." makes me think it might have happened there) :'(

Invading: Snape casting Leglilimens with his wand during lessons, but only catching glimpses of Harry's life/memories. Harry can sense it, feel it, he hates it. There's a physical reaction, Harry reacts without meaning to, full-bodily, to defend himself - but it might not have been as upsetting if it were anyone else; he hates Snape, and Snape hates him, so it was probably a worse experience than usual, because...

Seeking: Snape summoning the mental image of Advanced Potions. Harry didn't react nearly as strongly physically as when Snape was "invading", but to me this is more invasive than passive viewing of memories. It's more intentional, goal-directed, and much more likely to get you into trouble. This is probably what Voldemort is doing to Snape, only Snape is sat casually at Malfoy Manor, letting him into his mind, not resisting (as such) as Voldemort does the equivalent of Googling "traitorous thoughts" inside Snape's head

Planting words/thoughts: Voldemort speaking to many minds at once, speaking to Harry, like at the Battle of Hogwarts

Planting visions: Much more complex, Voldemort planting scenes of Sirius being taken hostage in OotP

I expect you could do more with more power, like planting intentions/actions or mental torture, making things like the Imperius and Cruciatus Curses near obsolete. Loki's speech in Avengers comes to mind:

"I won’t touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you. Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you fear. And then he’ll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I’ll split his skull."

Legilimency & Occlumency & Emotion

i was reading something somewhere (possibly on my binge of metas last night, but who knows) that Snape was very talented at Occlumency, but just about average at Legilimency - but I respectfully disagree, and here's a whole (3k word) accidental ramble about it, which started as an observation and devolved into how I think Legilimency/Occlumency works in the context of Snape and Voldemort, and why I interpret it differently than it being (entirely) magical dissociation and actually quite an emotion-based skill once it's more complex TLDR: I've often seen Occlumency described/conceptualised as a "shield" or some kind of suppressed emotionless state, but I discovered upon writing this that I think it can be quite a bit more complex and emotional, actually - just like Snape <3

Snape's Talents

The idea that got me rambling today went something like "Draco, who only had a handful of lessons from Bellatrix, was able to keep Snape out of his mind using Occlumency - so Snape can't have been a very good Legilimens, or Occlumency was easy to do"

And I do agree that Snape was probably better at Occlumency than Legilimency by sheer quantity of practice alone - and also that, outside of using it on Harry (and Draco) when they were up to mischief, and Snape likely wishing he could use it to work out what Dumbledore was hiding from him, Snape had no desire to see, hear, interpret or otherwise get the gist of what anyone at Hogwarts was thinking - but especially not a bunch of pubescent students, nor colleagues who liked him on a surface level but obviously were not close enough to think Something Was Up when he killed Dumbledore (which, fair in some ways, unfair in others, but I digress)

[side note: Snape can't have just not used Occlumency for over a decade before Voldemort's return, so I like to think of him and Dumbledore practicing to keep his skills sharp - although I expect that would be another 'fun' way for Dumbledore to hold Snape in chains which would make for an interesting fic]

I suspect that if Snape had chosen to, he could've invaded Draco's mind in that scene, broken through whatever defenses Draco used - but that's not a very Snape thing to do to a student, and especially not one he knows well, was a family friend of, has closely seen grow up, and probably has a soft spot for. It's very reminiscent of his conversation with Narcissa, to me. Throughout that entire conversation with Draco, Snape was trying to comfort Draco, empathise with him, get Draco to trust him, confide in him, offer support to Draco whether he wanted it or not - not further alienate him to a point where Snape couldn't help. And besides, invading Draco's mind aggressively doesn't sit very well with his vow "to the best of your ability, protect him from harm".

And as for Harry's lessons, Harry was using spells - which Snape seemed surprised, interested, and almost impressed to learn that were effective against Legilimency, which isn't surprising in itself as it's not a widely used area of magic. And since Harry had no idea that Snape (and probably Dumbledore) were 'reading his mind' for years before he learnt about Legi/Occlumency, I don't expect many people would know if Snape used it, or put up a fight using those methods - other Death Eaters probably stuck to Occluding, because it would hardly garner any favour if they cast a stinging hex or Protego at Voldemort or in a DE meeting Which brings me back to my other point as well, which was that "Occlumency possibly wasn't difficult to do". On a rudimentary level that might be true (at least insofar as any advanced magic was difficult to do - Harry was actually quite talented, e.g. casting a corporeal patronus at 13/14 or whatever, and Draco could do it after a few lessons with Bellatrix). Harry learnt almost despite Snape, because he didn't take instruction from him well and because Snape is (intentionally) abrasive in lessons (which I could go on about, since Snape couldn't really be nice to Harry when Voldemort was possibly looking through harry's eyes at any given moment - and as other metas have pointed out was another layer to Snape's rage when Harry looked at his memories). But Snape could do it without a wand, without an incantation, so he was reasonably skilled - imagine casting a full body Patronus or other impressive spell with neither a wand nor an incantation

Also we don't know precisely how long Draco had lessons for, it might have been loads and he was actually pretty good, or it might have been 3 and he was awful. But unlike Snape, who is not the greatest Legilimens of all time (that's apparently Voldemort?), it was glaringly obvious to him that Draco was using Occlumency - Snape had him sussed in like 3 seconds, and chose not to go any further for the reasons I outlined above - which interestingly he did not do with Harry, when faced with finding out where Harry learnt Sectumsempra (but at that point both Snape and Draco's life had been on the line - if Draco dies, presumably so does Snape?)

Which brings me back to Snape... How I think Legilimency/Occlumency works (sometimes)

You have no subtlety The mind is a complex and many-layered thing It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so utter falsehoods in [Voldemort's] presence without detection.

There's a lot to take in there, and also pretty ballsy to say to Voldemort-by-proxy (Harry), which might reduce the validity of my idea that Snape didn't want to be nice to Harry during their lessons in case Voldemort was watching, since Snape's pretty happy to give Voldemort (and the reader, more likely) a complete insight into what he's himself doing... although I expect that Voldemort has considered this, and also doesn't recognise the limits of his own power - or the extent of Snape's.

I also wonder whether the 'certain conditions' are something simple, like eye contact being made or the spell being cast, or whether there's something to the mental state of the 'caster' at the time as well, like there is with Occlumency walls/shields and being calm and empty-headed, or whether the conditions is the Occluder themselves presenting (or not presenting) some alternative things to interpret. One of the wizarding world (I think) pages says Snape trained a 'slight natural ability', so that makes me wonder more, as well, but i digress.

But my second point is this: Snape's talents weren't Occluding by total shutdown, or Occlumency 'shields' which always now irk me in fanfiction (this I'm definitely drawing from another meta but I have no idea where, so... apologies). Snape wasn't throwing up a wall in front of entire memories or thoughts, for the most part. Although I expect that between the Pensieve and Draco's example use of Occlumency, that was sometimes a function (e.g. some of the things Dumbledore told Snape to pass along, he'd have to entirely block out, alter, or otherwise adapt those memories to make it look as though Snape had passed information along of his own volition against Dumbledore's orders, or hide the fact that he'd helped Dumbledore when he was supposed to be helping Voldemort, etc).

So inkeeping with my own questionable metaphor, where Draco threw up a wall - metaphorically crumbling, last-minute, cowboy builder Occlumency where the wall would hold but you could see it very clearly and obviously; where with a lesser Occlumens the wall was nice enough, but you could see where the paint job didn't quite match up and the plastering wasn't done very evenly; Snape had the whole house set up so that you didn't know the wall wasn't there from the start, and probably had a few artfully chosen scuffs to make it seem real, or it was some kind of trapdoor under the carpet. (okay the metaphor died, but I've been watching a lot of remodelling shows lately, you get the point if you've read this far)

In another metaphor I imagine detecting a lie to be like running your fingertips along a smooth surface and finding a lip or a bump - you could then, pick at it, poke at it, tear it open. You could sense that something was being hidden, or withheld. But there were no lips or snags in Snape's thoughts; potentially Voldemort could simply not detect them, not even when he searched him openly, repeatedly, full eye contact, at the table at Malfoy Manor. Snape welcomed Voldemort into his (it's just occurred to me, but "mind palace") and Voldemort repeatedly, for years, could not tell that anything was amiss, and presumably Voldemort did this with much more ferocity (and skill) than Snape looking at Harry for 2 seconds and immediately summoning Harry's mental image of the Prince's copy of Advanced Potions Making

But it can't be down to detection alone. There's also a level of interpretation to Legilimency. So here I'm focusing on a more interesting aspect to me, which is how emotion is used in Legilimency/Occlumency. Obviously, Snape isn't Occluding all the time, and as much as I adore Alan Rickman, book!Snape was naturally a total petty, stuttering mess (love him for it) who only wishes he had Alan Rickman's gravitas, and could on occasion emulate it.

I told you to empty yourself of emotion! … Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers!

I think this quote is interesting for many reasons I probably won't be able to connect properly and are in no particular order beyond how I thought of them

Snape is emotional here when he says it, he's angry, annoyed, upset, and it's an honest feeling, and he's obviously not devoid of emotion but can still Occlude Harry

Snape is an emotional person, much as he tries to pretend not to be, and can still Occlude Voldemort just fine even on the night he thinks he's marching to his death at the end of GoF

Much like how many other kinds of magic require lots of study and a strong emotion/will/conscious thought at the start, perhaps it become easier with experience to the point where this advice is not essential (e.g. kind of like driving, I no longer have to think about changing gears like I did as a Learner)

Snape is also talking about himself here, indicative of Snape's worldview where showing 'weak' emotions is the problem - soft emotions, vulnerability, "never tell".

"Provoke" is exactly what Voldemort does to Harry

This is Occlumency 101; Snape's teaching Harry the most basic of Occlumency - to compartmentalise, to block someone out, to throw up that shoddy but sturdy-enough wall for Voldemort to come up against, like Draco did to Snape. Harry's anger and emotion is a weakness in this basic Occlumency lesson, where Voldemort is trying to look through Harry and/or trick/provoke him; thus, the wall.

But this probably isn't the kind of Legilimency Voldemort would use on Snape (which is to see if he's lying, if his information is real, if his values are aligned, etc), and it probably isn't the kind of Occlumency Snape was doing in return, to lie or deflect suspicion or ingratiate himself. In fact, throwing up a wall is the opposite of what Snape does with Voldemort; Snape lets him in, lets him stare him down in front of an audience, all the while showing Voldemort what he wants to see. I think as well there's an element of a Legilimens 'grasping' for something, searching, "provoking", like how Snape 'grasped' for Harry's memories of Advanced Potions Making, how Voldemort appears to search Snape at Malfoy Manor - so if all Snape presents is a memory, empty, devoid of any complexity, Voldemort would question it.

In my interpretation, when Occluding, Snape displays a different type of emotional control; Complex Occlumency means you control your emotions, yes, but not block them off - Snape takes his emotions where they need to go, makes them do what they need to do, to support the interpretation he wants Voldemort to reach. He chooses to some extent what Voldemort sees if he lies outright or omits details (a well made wall, basic Occlumency), and chooses how to present it (complex Occlumency). And he does it with subtlety; he doesn't often outright lie, and there's a lot left to interpretation - in both Snape's speech (with Bellatrix) and his actions throughout the books, and presumably his Occlumency.

So I suggest that Snape, in a situation with Voldemort, must be able to "lift up" or "lean into" an alternative emotion for interpretation - the decoration around the wall, the interior design, if you will. For example, Snape couldn't tell Voldemort that he desired Lily, in a total absence of any feelings at all, without it coming across as false and thus easily detectable as a lie. And you know that when a young Snape, who's hardly made a name for himself (Snape's likely never killed, at least, and isn't especially memorable to anyone in Azkaban and is last named by Karkaroff, and other things I won't go into here) outside of overhearing half a prophecy begs for a Mudblood Order member who's the mother of Voldemort's downfall who's thrice defied him to be spared, you can bet that Voldemort will want to thoroughly find out why, so...

To me this suggests that there was a level of desire there that Snape could 'lean into', whether that desire be for Lily or someone else he found desirable to act as a kind of substitute - though given that Legilimency seems to work on mental images and memories at least in part, a memory where he desired Lily would've been useful. And I'm just using that as an example, because Voldemort would also presumably at some stage have interrogated what Snape thought of Dumbledore and Harry, and Snape would've had to lean into feelings of hatred and loathing - which he'd manage just fine for Harry, but Snape would have leant into his feelings after Dumbledore silenced him after nearly getting eaten by a werewolf and again freeing Sirius in PoA, but I digress

When Harry finally learns Occlumency (by his own admission) in the wake of Dobby's death, it's grief that helps him master it - which, for me personally, is not a detached, clear-headed feeling in any sense. It's visceral, emotional, and painful; all-consuming. It's love/grief/loss/strong loving emotion that forces Voldemort out, after he loses Sirius and again when he loses Dobby. But it's a contrast to the emotions Voldemort uses of Harry's to draw Harry out, via his fears for Sirius. But with grief, Harry's dived headfirst into feeling what Voldemort doesn't want to feel (unlike the anger), to keep Voldemort out of his mind. Whereas Snape would do the opposite, and dive right in to the feelings Voldemort would want to sense - to the exclusion of others. Would Voldemort even think to search for Snape's love for Lily, if he was first presented with something more visceral, with more negative connotations, like desire or jealousy, hurt or betrayal? These are the emotions Voldemort thrives on and can exploit, that he's familiar with, that he understands. In the context then of 'grasping' that's how I think Snape leads Voldemort down a path of believing him - by bringing honest 'negative' emotions to the fore that Voldemort understands.

this is really where I think skilled Occlumency differs from dissociation or wall-building. I think Snape would simultaneously have to dampen his 'lie' feelings and to raise the volume on the 'fitting' feelings for his chosen interpretation. My interpretation of this all stems from my experience of writing, of getting lost in music, in using those activities to "wallow" in certain feelings. Snape does not present Voldemort with his true feelings, but they are real feelings. So in that way, I feel Snape was like an artist or writer; he felt deeply, he felt conflictingly, and dived headfirst into those wells of emotion when he needed to - diving so deeply that it cuts off and hides the conflicting evidence. I feel that when I'm writing, when I'm listening to music, when I'm wallowing. And I feel a lot of sympathy for Snape, because it can feel like a real whiplash when you're midway through writing an intense scene or listening to some excellent music that really fills you up with something, it can take you to some dark places, and it's quite shocking somehow when abruptly interrupted - which would be what his life was constantly like after Voldemort's return, leaning into and shying away from/shutting down emotions and memories he didn't necessarily feel whenever he was called, and then having to return to work or meetings in that headspace, where everything feels out of touch and you're in internal turmoil. (Granted, I can snap out of it because the music or the writing is neither here nor there, really, but he'd be doing it with his own life experiences, with his own life on the line, and to repay a debt of guilt - there's a lot more emotional baggage there, and even more once Dumbledore died). And I think it would take its toll in other ways, too, which leads me to Lily...

Far from some people's cries that possessive or obsessive attraction or desire is some huge moral failing, I'd argue that you'll find a level of it in most teenagers and indeed the regular spectrum of human emotion - I know I've certainly experienced feelings of intense jealousy and whatever 'Snaters' (I'm not a massive fan of the term, but as a shorthand) accuse Snape of, whether I acted on it or not. So I'd suggest that Snape 'leant into' that for the sake of being on the receiving end of Voldemort's Legilimency. Whether Snape regularly, or actually, felt those emotions of his own free will or not is hard to say - since there's no actual evidence he did act possessive or jealous beyond the normal teenager level (and that's without addressing the fact that we didn't know how he would've ended the sentence "I won't let you -"). And I'd also go as far as to say that Snape probably, truly, had some awful thoughts (don't we all?) and so he was able to lean into some very dark and gloomy nooks and crannies of his mind, the parts we're told healthy people steer clear of acting on but also undoubtedly experience (jealousy, possession, rage, bitterness) in much the same way as a writer, artist, or musician might, to make his 'lies' and the stories he told more 'truthful' - which was why Voldemort trusted him so much.

TLDR: Snape's a man of many contraditions and very much emotional depth, and he manipulated his own emotions (likely to the detriment of his mental health) for years. But just as I, a fanfic writer, can vicariously experience the bitter resentment for a person who doesn't love me, can imagine a world where he can think those thoughts, embody them, and still not take them on as part of his identity.

anyway i don't have a conclusion, I just had thoughts

[Side note not strictly related to ANY of the above: I find it interesting as well that Voldemort's skill is apparently specifically in working out whether people are lying to him, suggesting that you could specialise even further into different aspects of behaviour. But people do lie to Voldemort (Narcissa, Snape, off the top of my head, but there's no indication of Voldemort using Legilimency on Narcissa in that moment where Harry lives - Voldemort was too elated, once again caught up in his own glory). [side side note: Harry's treatment after his 'death' does make me wonder, briefly, about Snape's own treatment when he returned at the end of GoF - public torture and humiliation, an opportunity for the other DEs to turn on one of their own to 'increase their own standing' in Voldemort's eyes, crucio to weaken Snape's defences, to check that his information and loyalty true? i get the impression that Snape shared his information with Voldemort privately, given that Bellatrix didn't seem to know much about Snape's return, but who's to say there wasn't some 'fun' beforehand, or at other points during his time as spy]

#meta #snape #occlumency #snape meta #legilimency #pro snape

122 notes · View notes

iamanartichoke · 2 years ago

Text

Apropos of absolutely nothing, closer inspection indicates Thor's hair, while long again, is still kinda tragic? That is, it's still unkempt, but not Endgame levels of unkempt.

Idk maybe it's just me but -

In the first image, Thor's hair still looks a little matted, like it's been a minute since he's washed it or combed it, while in the second image (peak Thor), his hair looks shiny and clean and luscious.

Another example -

Again, in TDW, Thor's hair is literally gleaming in the sun, whereas in Thor 4, it has that matted, kind of unwashed look. Not that I think Thor (or his hair) looks unclean, just that while his TDW hair looks like he deep conditions it with unicorn tears on the daily, his Thor 4 hair looks like it could benefit from some dry shampoo and a blow dryer to spruce it up between washings.

I'm not complaining - I like this, actually? Like, I don't know if this was an intentional costuming choice or not, but regardless, I kinda view it as symbolic of how much Thor has changed and how much he has gone through since he first lost his hair at the beginning of Ragnarok, and even though it's grown back, it's different.

He's different. He can't just dress up like his old self and braid his long hair and slip back into being that person bc that person is long gone and whoever Thor is now, he's a little worse for the wear. His face is hardened; the scar over his eye contributes to the look of someone who's Seen (heh) Some Shit. His beard is darker and longer, shadowing his features. He's no longer bright-eyed. His luscious blonde mane is lackluster. He doesn't shine anymore.

I say upon closer inspection bc my first reaction to the trailer was that Thor looked like himself again but, actually, he doesn't. The resemblance is surface-level. And, again, I couldn't say if all of these aesthetic choices were intentional or not, but it is interesting to observe especially in comparison to Jane's blonde hair, which is the very definition of luscious flowing locks:

Just kinda fits with the overall theme of Jane being worthy and Thor not, a little. Jane is Thor, but who Thor used to be, and all the shininess that entails.

Again, maybe it's just me, though.

Unrelated to anything I've written here, for some reason, I really like this moment:

Why? I don't know. I just do.

#thor 4 #all of this is speculation + scenes from the trailer #which i don't consider spoilers #but if you do - lmk and i will tag and/or cut #thor meta #charlotte's meta #what is my meta tag #i don't know???#i need to organize my blog man #thor glorious thor #christian bale exists in this film and i'm making it everyone's problem #endgame thor #in which the curtains are just fucking blue to everyone but me

13 notes · View notes

bts-mbti · 2 years ago

Note

I came across recently a website explaining mbti in a developmental way, as in the first function is developed in childhood, the second one in adolescence/ early 20s etc.

What do you think of it, and if you agree how does it impact how you type the members ?

How do you think the amount of stress of idol life impact the way they appear and how they’re typed ?

Joon seems to be more knowledgeable than the others, why do you think he sticks with calling himself enfp ?

i think that there's some definite truth to the correlation of age with the functions, but i don't believe it's that structured. people in the mbti community who use this aspect of the theory religiously are really just talking about personal maturity & awareness when they say "development". a lot of people follow a slow pattern of growth over their lives, only really achieving what would be considered healthy in typology in old age bc type health is mostly a categorization of wisdom, maturity, and self-awareness. but this growth pattern is far from fixed. people develop, in this sense, at wildly different rates based on endless variables, so it's impossible to assign age ranges to function development using this understanding of what mental development is

that said, i do think people naturally develop their functions in order from dominant to inferior. that can be disrupted, but it won't disrupt itself & you'll never have underdeveloped upper functions compared to your lower. the speed that you develop your stack is about psychology not typology, tho. which should be considered when typing someone, but it's an intersectional thing & not so much an mbti theory thing

so a) when i type the members, or anyone, i don't rlly consider the functions in a structured way until i've assessed their overall level of personal & mental development unrelated to mbti, if it's possible to observe, as well as any mental health issues. then i determine if age is a reasonable variable or not, based on those things. as for bts, most of the boys don't rlly follow typical patterns of function growth for their ages. jungkook is the only one who seems to be on the common function development timeline, tho only jin, jimin, & yoongi are very in touch with their inferiors

b) the idol job inherently demands certain features of type to be active. an idol being good at dancing, for example, doesn't say much abt Se. neither does them having Se skills most intuitives don't, since being an idol requires access to Se. it also requires access to Fe or enneagram's social instinct, the heart center, and the sexual instinct. you have to type idols with this + other interactions between job description and typology in mind to be accurate

as for stress, specifically, an exemplar of this interaction is yoongi. he's drained by pretty much everything abt being an idol except the creative process & performing, but has to do the draining activities daily. so "lack of energy" in and of itself isn't proof of anything abt his typology, since his lifestyle doesn't support him being energetic

another obvious interaction is hobi's Fe becoming even more closed-off with his own feelings than normal exfjs are due to the pressures of his image & persona, to the point where he appears emotionally unavailable. surface-level, this conflicts with exfjs' need to connected with externalized emotions

jimin responds to the stress & pressure of being an idol by accessing his lower Te, which can make him appear tj-ish. there's too may ways each of their types intersect with idol-dom to list, but not a lot of armys seem to filter their typings through this lens, strangely

c) because he still doesn't know what a cognitive function is & he's tested as enfp a few times. i'm hopeful that maybe his curiosity will eventually lead him to the functions, but not expecting it. and even if it does, i'll be very suspicious of his sources lol

#take a shot every time i use yoongi as an example #billy jeans23 #asks #mbti #mbti: function development #mbti: bts #mbti: yoongi #mbti: hoseok

2 notes · View notes

stubbychaos · 4 years ago

Text

Rose Golden

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Paz Vizla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: Your newest companion takes you somewhere safe and special after a long week of work so he can give you a thoughtful present. In the process, you learn that you’re not the biggest fan of heights.

Rated: T because Paz drops an F-bomb and there are suggestive themes regarding abuse and injuries.

Word count: 7,500 (I sincerely did not mean for this chapter to be so long and then I got carried away in editing--oops)

Warnings: There’s really none in this chapter, except for a brief mention of reader’s abusive father and a clumsy moment that leaves the reader with a bruise. This is honestly mostly playful bantering and adorable flirting between Paz and his nurse.

Author’s note will be at the end of the chapter! :)

You don’t expect to see the blue Mandalorian only eight days after he carries you home, but you can’t stop the large smile that spreads across your now healed lips upon finding him leaning against the exterior of the shoddy infirmary right after the sun has gone down. A few crimson rays of sunlight still linger and bathe the Mandalorian in a lovely glow, contrasting drastically with his dull blue armor and making it look as though he polished and shined it just recently.

He stands far taller compared to a few late night stragglers and you immediately frown when a passing Twi'lek hisses at him in a feral manner, though the Mandalorian simply ignores the rude gesture, deeming the offended creature as unworthy of his effort or time. It’s almost like watching a baby porg attempt to square up with a Wampa and you’re certain that the blue warrior is amused by the poor attempt at intimidation.

You’re a little surprised that someone would willingly try to get underneath the massive warrior’s skin and you’re even more surprised when the Twi’lek sends a disgusting yellow-tinted wad of spit in the direction of your Mandalorian’s big boots in a disrespectful manner.

His blue helm slowly tips downwards and to the side to finally regard the much smaller Twi’lek and while he dons his sacred helmet, you find it amusing how he’s still able to convey an irritated glare through the guise of the thick metal. Without even saying a word or moving to stand taller in front of the Twi’lek, your Mandalorian somehow threatens him with a simple cock of his helmet and a massive hand moving to the handle of his smaller blaster. It’s something you find impressive and you suddenly grow jealous that he can exude such terrifying energy so easily.

As you watch the magenta-tinged creature give the Mandalorian one last sneer before stalking past him, you wonder why anyone in their right mind would find it a good idea to mess with someone with such a terrifying aura. Upon meeting him for the first time, you had been too afraid to even talk to him or even look into his shiny visor, let alone scoff at him or even think about spitting on his boots. You wonder if this is a typical reaction he gets everywhere he goes and you think it must get exhausting after having to deal with it for so long.

Does it bother him? Or has he simply resigned to a life of judgment and persecution?

You can’t even imagine displaying so much disrespect and resentment towards someone who had inflicted absolutely no harm or offense on you, though you think that the Twi’lek, nor many others in the village, are aware of the concept of manners.

His visor is dutifully scanning the streets and you beam the second it lands on you as you make your way over to him with a little skip in your step; you notice the small canvas bag he holds tightly in one hand and the way the fingers of his free hand loosely curl against his thigh. His shoulders, still tense from the silent encounter with the Twi’lek, deflate as he drops his helmet to regard you properly and you smile at the way he seems to relax at the sight of you, as if it’s something he’s been thinking about all day.

Perhaps he has, just as you have thought of him nearly every moment of every day since your last meeting with him.

No, you're definitely not infatuated with the massive warrior and everything about him.

Even though you’re obviously no threat to him, the way he greets you with a kind nod and a gentle rasp of your name has you feeling a severe depth of respect for the warrior. Selfishly, you ponder if you’re the only one outside of his tribe that he seems to tolerate, understanding that you don’t have any ulterior motives when it comes to his Creed or what he hides under that scuffed up bucket.

“I’m surprised to see you so soon, Mandalorian,” You greet him with a tilt of your own head, mimicking his own actions, “I thought it would be at least another month before I saw you again.”

His helmet cocks further to the side and you think he must be amused by your soft sentiment as his fingers flex against his big, padded thighs, “Did I not warn you that you would see me sooner than you would wish for?”

Your brows rise high on your forehead and you shake your head a little at the stubborn warrior’s smug inquiry, “And what if I wished for you sooner than the week’s end?”

"Then I would think you missed me or something."

The way he speaks is so gruff and nonchalant that you think he must be covering up something softer in his modulated voice and you can’t help but to smile at his unwillingness to show you any kind of intense emotion. His helmet lowers even more until his visor is eye level with you and you’re sure that he’s judging you through the guise of that irritating blue armor, though you simply ignore it and continue to peer up at the warrior with unrelenting sass.

Something that he seems to thoroughly revel in.

“You miss me, saviin’ika? Is that why you were dying to see me?”

“Perhaps I just missed having someone to walk me home to scare off all the bad guys,” You cross your arms over your chest as a knowing smile spreads across your lips and you shift your weight to one leg, “Don’t flatter yourself, Mandalorian. Cockiness doesn’t suit you.”

He makes a funny noise that seems to catch in his throat and you grin at him when you realize he’s trying not to laugh at your words.

“If I remember correctly--” He sounds utterly amused as he idly rolls his helmet around and you nearly cringe when you hear joints cracking in his stiff neck, “I didn’t walk you home last time--I carried you. ‘Was even nice enough to even take off your shoes and take out your braids, or were you too sleepy to remember?”

“I remember all too well.”

Your cheeks burn furiously as you’re suddenly aware of the thick braids currently tugging at your scalp and you remember how gentle and graceful his fingers had felt as he deftly loosened your plaits while you struggled to not fall asleep. Your tongue is suddenly heavy and fuzzy in your mouth when you think of how you’ve fallen asleep every night since your last encounter, longing and yearning for the pleasant, soothing touch of his rough fingertips massaging the soreness from your scalp. You try to remember the last time anyone has ever touched you without any ill intentions and you think of your mother, with such soft and tender hands that would gracefully part thick strands of hair before skillfully plaiting them.

The thought of a huge Mandalorian attempting to braid your hair nearly makes you giggle out loud, though you think he wouldn’t be too terrible at it since his fingers hadn’t struggled in the slightest against your intricate plaits.

Even though the memories of your mother combing and braiding your long locks is all but a faded memory, you’re certain that the blue Mandalorian’s touch had somehow been gentler than hers--caressing your cheeks and lips as though you were a jagged shard of glass that would somehow pierce his thick armor. Was he afraid of accidentally hurting you despite knowing you can take a hard hit to the face and bounce back like it didn’t even affect you? You knew you were quite small, especially compared to him, but he had reassured you during your last meeting that he did not believe you to be weak.

You suddenly wonder if the warrior fears you more than you had once feared him, though you can’t think of a rational reason at to why someone bred and born to not feel fear would feel it towards someone like you?

He’s still observing you intensely when you finally muster up the strength to speak softly, “I never thanked you for that--taking my braids out. My hair would have been a tangled mess in the morning if it weren’t for you.”

“You didn’t have to thank me,” His baritone drops the slightest and you find your cheeks growing even hotter at the gruffness of his modulated voice; you’re skin feels like burning coals as he continues to talk, keeping his shiny visor trained intensely on your face, “Your eyes are very expressive, saviin’ika.”

You lower your head a little, hoping that he doesn’t see how flushed your face must be as you speak softly and shakily, “Is that a compliment, Mandalorian?”

“Do you want it to be one?”

Pushing himself off the wall, he lazily closes the short distance between the two of you, stoic and calm as ever. You briefly wonder if he ever gets worried or stressed, but something about the way he carries himself so gracefully and confidently makes you think it’s not often others attempt to challenge him.

You give up on your prayers to the Maker for your blue Mandalorian to not notice the intense blush in your cheeks, realizing that he must have some sort of advanced technology in the damn helmet to detect the heat rising to the surface of your skin.

He lowers his helmet until his metal chin is nearly poking your nose before he slightly tilts it to the side; you’re not sure how such an action could be simultaneously soft and intense, yet he somehow manages it and you suppress a shaky exhale when he reaches forward to skim the tips of his leather-clad fingers along the outer shell of your ear. The violet tucked there must be close to falling, because he plucks it away from your cartilage and deftly situates it somewhere in the thick braid that’s wrapped around the crown of your head.

Your own voice drops to a low murmur as he fixes another flower that you tucked in your braid earlier; you find it endearing that he seems so hellbent on making sure none of your vibrant flowers fall from your unusually tamed mane.

“What would you think of me if I wanted it to be a compliment?”

A noise that’s reminiscent of a grunt getting caught in his modulator has you smiling a little wider as he shakes his helmet at your harmless question, though it seems to have him utterly flustered as he speaks in a more rushed tone, “I wouldn’t think of you any differently, but if it is rare for you to be complimented, I wouldn’t mind doing it more. You… I think... fuck...”

He seems to grow slightly shy and you smile demurely at how captivating someone so large and intimidating can be so nervous with something as simple as giving a compliment; you think him to be an enigma, in more ways than one.

“You think me to be what, Mandalorian?”

He shakes his helmet again and promptly changes the subject; you wonder if he’ll ever admit to you what he truly wanted to say--what he thought about you.

“I think you look well rested,” He observes out loud and you ponder if he’s smiling underneath that blue helmet as he swiftly deflects your gentle question, “Your injuries look a lot better as well. The bruising is no longer there and there’s barely a mark on your lip."

You grin up at him, eyes sparkling as you admire the way the moonlight reflects off of his blue armor, “Thanks to you, Mandalorian. I really did not wish for you to use that salve on me; I’ve had worse than a bruised cheek or a split lip.”

Immediately, you realize you should not have said that as his fingers curl into loose fists at his sides and you let out a tired sigh.

Why do you always manage to stick your foot in your mouth?

“How much worse?”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” You murmur, avoiding the intense gaze of his shiny visor to stare at the geometric shape embedded into his cuirass instead, “It is nothing I am incapable of handling myself.”

“Do you not get tired of taking care of everyone and never having someone to take care of you?”

The tone of his voice is tender and something about the genuine curiosity of his question leaves you without any breath in your lungs, as if he’s some sort of thief. Nobody has ever asked you something of that nature and you’re certain it’s because nobody has ever cared like he seems to; you don’t find it fair for someone to feel such concern for you.

You suddenly feel undeserving of all the sentiments he’s showered you with, but you will accept them for as long as he chooses to tolerate your presence.

“I take care of myself, Mandalorian,” You inform him with a sad smile, shaking your head a little when his shoulders tense, “Always have and always will.”

“You need someone, saviin’ika,” He insists, gently grabbing your chin and urging you to look up at his visor, “Everybody needs someone.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you spot all of the scuffed up marks and divots in his deep blue helmet, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

You feel flustered and timid suddenly, realizing you’re just like him in the sense that you’re not used to expressing your own emotions and you feel impossibly small and vulnerable when he lightly squeezes your chin.

“Are you not my friend?”

A leather index finger grazing your jawline has you nearly coming undone as he speaks with that deep baritone, “I can be whatever you want me to be, saviin’ika.”

“What if I’m not sure what I want you to be?”

His leather digits lazily and dutifully skim the little valley between your chin and bottom lip, “I think you already know.”

His fingers move upwards to where your cheek had once been nearly the same shade of his dull armor, though it’s now healed into a light, barely-there yellow tint and you’re reminded of how he had taken care of you just a week ago. When you had first woke up after a few peaceful hours of sleep, you had initially thought you dreamt the previous night--him carrying you home and tending to your minor wounds with the bacta salve you had given him. Upon looking in the mirror when you first arrived at your office, you had been pleasantly surprised to find that the black and blue bruise had turned into a healthier shade of yellow and the tiny gash on your bottom lip was barely a scar. If you tried to imagine it hard enough, you swore you could still feel his index finger trailing up the apple of your cheek and to the tip of your ear; you swore you could still feel his rough, skilled fingers rubbing comfort into your sore scalp.

You had longed to feel his rough fingers on your face again and as a leather digit currently strokes the tail of your brow, you wonder if it would be hard to convince him to remove his glove again.

With an intense blush turning your cheeks a vibrant shade of pink, you ponder what else he can do with those fingers--those graceful hands.

When he doesn’t say anything else, you gesture to the canvas bag that he’s still tightly gripping in a large hand and clear your throat a little, though your voice sounds slightly coarse and wavering, “What’cha got there? Do some shopping in the marketplace?”

“Not quite,” He hesitates as he slowly lowers his helmet, his visor shifting between you and whatever is in the bag, “I want to take you somewhere, if that is alright with you. It's a safe place that nobody knows about."

You perk up, not wanting to go home and having to deal with your father’s anger yet, so you nod enthusiastically and immediately wrap your fingers into the crook of his padded elbow, as if it’s pure instinct at this point and you suppose it is. Though you’ve only ran into him three times, you think that after the night when he had carried you home and tended to your wounds, you would trust the Mandalorian to guide you anywhere on Nevarro, as long as he was there with you. Everyone always avoids the big warrior and you’re sure that if anyone attempted to cross him, he would deal with the situation swiftly and efficiently.

The Mandalorian is ever dutiful and diligent as he leads you in a different direction from your home and you can’t help but to scan your surroundings wildly as you two wander through the marketplace that's still bustling, even after the sun disappears and gives way to brilliant moonlight.

Though most of the food vendors are selling some sort of questionable cooked meat, your eyes widen when you pass a stand that is offering all sorts of vibrant fruits and vegetables. Much to your dismay and embarrassment, your stomach growls and you can’t stop your head from turning to stare at the fresh food as the two of you continue past the vendor. It’s far more expensive than you’ve ever been able to afford, but nonetheless, you find yourself always checking the prices whenever you wander through the marketplace.

You don’t notice the blue Mandalorian observing the wistful expression painted along your features with a slight tilt of his helmet.

“About five miles west of the village, there is a small cave located at the base of the cliffs,” His deep baritone pulls you from your thoughts of fresh fruit and crisp vegetables and you curiously blink up at him, “Inside the cave, there are several hot springs that stay warm from the lava underground and flowers that light up the entire place. I want to take you there.”

“That sounds lovely and all, but five miles?” You feel bad that he’s going out of his way to do something nice for you and all you can think of is how sore your feet are from a long shift and your worn boots rubbing painfully against already formed blisters and bruises, “I couldn’t even do the half mile to my house last week.”

“Do you not see the jetpack on my back, saviin’ika? I wouldn't make you walk that distance after you've been on your feet all day; I am not that cruel.”

You immediately stop walking, your face growing pale at the mere thought of him bringing you high up off the ground and he must sense your intense fear and hesitation, because he immediately cocks his helmet to the side and promptly speaks up when your hand slips away from his elbow.

“What? You scared of flying or something?”

It sounds like he’s teasing you, a twinge of condescension apparent in his modulated voice, and it immediately makes you scowl at him because you have every right to be afraid when you’ve never had the option to travel off of Nevarro, let alone the galaxy, like he’s clearly had in the past. You forcefully remind yourself that most of the people in your little village are bounty hunters and criminals that get to travel for a living and that the feeling of being in the sky or in space was something he’d gotten acquainted with long ago.

“I’ve spent my entire life with my feet on the ground, Mandalorian,” You remind him with a harmless glare, craning your neck so you can properly look at his shiny visor underneath the pretty moonlight, “Of course I’m afraid.”

“You do not strike me as the type of woman to fear such things, not after everything you have already endured.”

You let out a petulant sigh, your cheeks puffing out in embarrassment as you narrow your eyes at the huge warrior and stubbornly cross your arms over your chest. You gaze at the silver tips of the jetpack that barely peek over the top of his broad shoulders and you can’t help but to wonder if there’s a possibility of the heavy piece of equipment malfunctioning mid-flight. Even though the rest of his armor is quite dinged up and a little rough around the edges, you think that his weapons and the jetpack look brand new, as though they’ve never been used before. His weapons and other pieces of equipment must be dear to him, you realize, just as your plants and flowers and the cuffs you wear in your braids are precious to you and you think he must take great care of them to keep them in good shape.

You’ve trusted the blue Mandalorian so far, so why do you fear the thought of him dropping you or his jetpack malfunctioning?

“Y-You’re sure it’s safe?”

“I would not let anything or anyone harm you while you’re with me, saviin’ika,” He holds out a large hand for you to take and you observe it warily for a few moments before slotting your fingers between his leather ones, “I know how my weapons and equipment work; if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be doing this.”

You smile softly at him and nod your understanding, “I trust you.”

“Come on,” He rasps, his voice a little softer when he carefully gives your hand a little tug and you let him guide you once again, “We need to get out of the village a little ways so I don’t draw attention with the sen’tra.”

You assume the word means ‘jetpack’ in his native tongue and you breathe out a soft laugh, “I think your armor draws plenty of attention, Mandalorian.”

He shakes his helmet, but continues to lead you to the outskirts of the noisy village, and you find that the silence shared between the two of you is a peaceful one, rather than an awkward one. Not known to be much of a talker, you’re grateful that the Mandalorian doesn’t really seem to expect a steady flow of conversation between the two of you, as he seems to do most of the talking. Though your feet ache from a long day of work, you find that the combination of his gruff voice and the firm pressure of his fingers intertwined with yours makes for a sweet distraction and you barely acknowledge the calluses and blisters covering your feet and ankles. He speaks mostly of the hot springs he’s taking you to and that the warm water will be good for sore legs; he briefly talks about his tribe when you shyly bring up traditional Mandalorian customs.

You listen and cling to every word closely, saving it for future reference so you don’t accidentally offend the blue warrior with oblivious words and naive questions.

It’s merely a twenty minute journey to the outskirts where most don’t venture to unless they have transportation, and even then, the rocky terrain and creatures that roam the barren lands are enough to keep most people inside the bleak village.

It was only another thing your father had warned you of when you had once attempted to run away when you were thirteen or fourteen; you hadn’t made it very far when he found you, completely lost and dehydrated miles and miles away from the village. Seeing the expanse of the barren lands now, you wonder what the hell you had been thinking as a teenager, thinking you could actually survive in such a harsh environment where there was no civilization for hundreds of miles; you were surprised you had lasted more than a day.

“Is something wrong?”

You blink owlishly, not even realizing the Mandalorian had been talking to you for a while now and you shake your head a little, “N-No… it’s just been a while since I’ve seen the barren lands. Not many venture far out the village without transportation and come back in one piece.”

If he notices the shakiness in your small voice, he decides not to mention it as he speaks.

“I won’t…” He lowers his helmet until the chin of his helmet is nearly touching your forehead and you shyly peer up at him through your lashes, “I won’t let anything happen to you--you know that, right?”

Even though his natural voice is distorted and disguised by his vocoder, you hear how genuine he’s being and you nod with a small, albeit nervous, smile, “I know. I trust you, Mandalorian. Just… please don’t drop me.”

The heavy-infantry warrior doesn’t say anything and merely nods as you reluctantly let go of his hand so he can wrap his arm around your waist, keeping a firm pressure without actually hurting you. Normally, the foreign contact would bother you and have you bursting at the seams, but you think that you don’t mind the way he holds you close to his warm body, like he’s trying to shield you from the horrors of this planet. You think that if you had someone to hold you like this every night for the rest of your days, you wouldn’t hold nearly as much fear in your heart that currently lingers there like a festering wound that refuses to heal properly.

Your breath catches in your throat as the Mandalorian’s clean and warm scent invades your senses and intoxicates you in the most delightful way possible; now that you’re not half asleep, you can actually appreciate the earthy scent that seeps through the cracks of his dull blue armor. Your cheeks are flushed as you wonder if he’s enjoying the close contact as much as you are--if he had hoped for this when he came up with the idea to take you to a place far from the village.

Instinctively, you stand up on your tippy toes and slip your arms around his broad shoulders, your heart racing at the thought of what’s about to happen. Your eyes barely peer over his taut shoulder and you hold your breath when he quietly informs you that he’s going to start the jetpack; you’re hasty as you squeeze your eyes shut when upon hearing the heavy piece of equipment come to life.

The Mandalorian gives your waist a comforting squeeze when you tense a little as he slowly takes off and you force yourself not to panic or open your eyes when you feel your boots slowly leave the ground. While the hand that’s gripping the canvas bag remains tightly wrapped around your waist, you feel his other hand come up to squeeze the spot between your shoulder blades. You’re not sure how high up the two of you are and you’re not sure if you want to look, so instead of gazing down at the rocky terrain that’s far below your boots, you turn your head up to peer at the shimmering stars in the night sky instead, admiring how they seem brighter and bigger the further you two make it out of the village. The moon has more of a yellowish tint to it tonight and appears larger than usual, but you think that perhaps being far away from the village and high up in the air has something to do with the lovely spectacle.

As cold air whips around the two of you, you find yourself grateful that you decided to tightly braid your hair that morning, though a few stubborn locks of hair escapes their restraints and lightly whips at your cheeks and forehead. You can’t stop yourself from shivering the higher he ascends, the atmosphere growing a little more frigid and you thank the Maker that you chose to wear longer shorts underneath your thin dress, the undergarments ending mid-thigh.

“See? Not so bad.”

You huff against his neck, still refusing to look down as you respond just loud enough for him to hear, “You wouldn’t be saying that if I threw up on you.”

His shoulders shake a little and you think he must be suppressing a bout of boisterous laughter as his arms tighten around you, though it’s not enough to hurt you or make it difficult to breathe. You wonder how often he uses the jetpack, especially if he spends most of his days dwelling deep underground, though something about the way he expertly navigates through the barren lands makes you think he’s incredibly experienced and well-trained in using the advanced equipment. He seems just as relaxed high up in the air as he does walking on land and you force yourself to keep your attention focused solely on the soft whirring noise his jetpack makes, along with how the constellations in the night sky grow more prominent the further he takes you away from the village.

You shift your arms around him a little, trying to get more comfortable against his metal chest; he must sense your discomfort because he easily hikes you up a little higher up his torso until your elbows are resting on top of his shoulders and your temple and cheek is lightly pressed against the side of his scuffed up helmet. The cold bite of the helmet makes you shiver a little harder against his chest and you try to focus only on the warmth that lingers between the cracks of his blue armor.

“Have you ever been up there?” You ponder so quietly that you figure he won’t hear it, though he turns his helmet a little to indicate that he’s listening, “With the stars?”

“It’s been a while, but yes.”

You suddenly have so many questions.

You want to ask him what it’s like to travel among the stars and if he misses it at all, or if he simply got tired of all the traveling and being away from his tribe for an extensive amount of time. Has he traveled to the Inner Rim? Or did he only stick to the Outer Rim where he knew it would be easier to find work? If you asked him to describe what the stars looked like as he flew through hyperspace at blinding speed, what would he say to you? Would he describe the constellations and scenery of different planets in great detail? Would he describe the colors of a catastrophic supernova? The shapes and vibrancy of different types of stars? Or would he merely shake his head at your childish questions?

You have all of these questions, yet one in particular has you speaking out loud against the side of his helmet.

“Was it lonely up there?”

He’s silent for a solid minute or two and you think that either he didn’t hear you, or he’s simply choosing not to display any vulnerability in front of you. It makes sense that he wouldn’t be willing to share much of his past with you and you don’t blame him for it, understanding that you two are similar in the sense that it’s difficult to speak of your feelings and traumatizing memories out loud. You wonder if his own memories haunt him when he tries to fall asleep at night and… wait.

Does the huge Mandalorian even sleep?

The only times you’ve interacted with him are late at night or some ungodly hour in the morning and you can’t help but to wonder when he finds time for sleep if he’s so busy providing for his beloved tribe.

“Yes,” His arm tightens around your waist and he turns his helmet in an attempt to gaze at you, though you know there’s really no way for him to see you, what with how firmly your cheek is pressed into the side of his matte dark blue helm, “I just didn’t know it at the time.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, thinking of a lonely Mandalorian navigating through hyperspace, all alone without the comfort of another, “What made you realize how lonely it was?”

You wonder if his own cheeks are burning painfully under that metal helmet as he reluctantly answers your question and you hope he doesn’t feel pressured to bend to your every whim or inquiry as you painfully crane your neck backwards to peer into the abyss that is his shiny visor, “I didn’t know at the time--what made everything feel so lonely--but now I think I know after spending enough time with you and seeing what your father does to you, how he makes you feel."

You tilt your head a little, obviously confused, “Wh-What do you mean?”

“I see a lot of my past self in you,” He admits, fingers lightly curling against your waist, and you think he’s making fun of you, “I didn’t have anyone and I found myself missing the tribe, but I didn’t want to believe that I was lonely and homesick. I see it in your eyes, how lonely and homesick you are as well.”

“What do you mean homesick?” His helmet cocks to the side as you continue, “You think I consider that little hut a home?”

“I think you long for a home you’ve never had,” He tentatively answers after a few moments of severe contemplation, “Like I said earlier, saviin’ika, your eyes are very expressive. Even when you smile, your eyes look sad and it reminds me of how I felt when I was traveling all alone.”

You move your head so your cheek is pressed back against the side of his helmet again, not wanting him to see the despair and loneliness that apparently seem to linger in your expressive eyes, “Is that why you showed up again tonight?”

“It’s part of the reason why,” The blue warrior concedes and it surprises you a little, as he’s usually closed off and so unwilling to expose himself to you, “I wanted to make sure that you were alright--that you weren’t hurt. I don’t... I don’t like seeing your face covered in bruises.”

You smile and slowly close your eyes, an unfamiliar warmth expanding in your chest as the thought of someone caring about your well-being lights your soul ablaze. Resisting the urge to kiss the light blue patch that’s painted in the hollow of his cheek, you settle on dropping your head so it’s pressed firmly into the bunched up fabric at the base of his neck before letting out a deep sigh.

You hope that the thickness of his armor prevents him from feeling how hard your heart is beating for him--for the selflessness of his words and actions--and you wonder if everyone else in his tribe is like him, soft and warm underneath such unyielding and cold armor. Something about the violent and ruthless energy he exudes when dealing with others makes you think he’s not as unrelenting when he’s with his people and they probably don’t expect him to be.

If anything, painful headbutts and heavy fists thrown at one another is how they probably show their love.

You feel a little lightheaded as your blue warrior starts to slowly descend and you're grateful when you eventually see the rocky ground in your peripheral vision. When the worn soles of your boots are finally pressed against solid ground, the Mandalorian makes sure to keep an arm wrapped around your middle, your legs feeling like jelly and your body swaying a little from disorientation.

Eventually, you reluctantly pull your head away from the warmth of his neck and slowly turn to peer up at him through your lashes, blushing at how close he is to you. He’s bent over a little so his visor is eye-level with you and you’re absolutely aware of the way his fingers are splayed wide on your hip, his thumb stroking comforting circles against the flimsy fabric of your dusty gray dress.

Is he aware of what he does to you? How frantic your heart is as it races from the way he holds you tenderly to his own chest, as if he wants to take you far away from the village and build a safe home for you inside of his own heart.

The strange tension only goes away when you speak in a breathy whisper, “Thank you for not dropping me, Mandalorian.”

“I would never do such a thing,” He reassures you and clears his throat before standing up straight so he’s towering over you again; he reaches up to slowly brush some unruly baby hairs away from your forehead and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you shiver from the soft gesture, “What kind of man would I be if I killed the only nurse in the village?”

His playful tone makes you giggle a little and you happily take his hand when he kindly offers it to you again. You’re a little surprised to find huge cliffs surrounding the two of you and you realize that you were so focused on the beautiful starlight the whole journey to the cave that you didn’t even realize he had been guiding the two of you throughout a deep canyon. The Mandalorian is patient as you gaze up at the enormous cliffs with admiration, not even realizing that such beauty could exist on a planet like Nevarro.

“I’ve never been this far out of the village,” You inform him with a breathless sigh, awe and wonder laced in your quiet voice, “I never thought the barren lands could be this pretty.”

“Not everything on this planet is terrible, saviin’ika,” He urges you towards the small, jagged entrance at the base of the cliff and you hesitate upon noticing the ominous abyss that would guide you two further beneath the planet’s surface. You watch as the blue Mandalorian calmly presses a button on his yellow-tinged vambrace, causing a bright light to emanate from the rectangular piece of metal attached to the top right side of his helmet.

“So that’s what it does,” You say out loud before you can stop yourself, earning a chuckle from the large man.

“What did you think it was for?”

You shrug as you let him pull you into the entrance of the quaint grotto, “Decoration?”

The boisterous bark of a laugh he lets out warms your heart and has you grinning as you forget about the fact that he’s leading you somewhere so secluded that he could easily hurt or take advantage of you without anyone knowing about his intentions. Out of anyone you’ve ever crossed paths with in the village, you’re certain that the Mandalorian is the only one you would ever trust to lead you deep inside a cave where terrifying creatures or monsters might linger, though you fear nothing as you stay close to his side.

“I can assure you that none of my weapons, armor, or equipment is for decoration,” He informs you lightheartedly, giving your hand a firm squeeze as he calmly guides the way further into the cold grotto, “The hot springs aren’t too much further away--stay close, saviin.”

“I do not think you would let me stray far,” You chuckle as you let him walk a step in front of you, just to be safe.

He lets go of your hand as he gracefully hops down a steep step that’s a solid ten or twelve feet and you hesitate as he turns to gaze up at you.

Trying to mimic his grace, you move to hop off the jagged ledge, though the tip of your oversized boot gets caught in a deep crack and you let out a sharp squeak as you fall forward, nearly face first into the ground. Before you can properly react and attempt to steady yourself, the diligent Mandalorian is swift and efficient with his skillful hands and somehow manages to keep his grip on your hips light enough to prevent any bruising or soreness that would possibly occur from being manhandled by the blue warrior. You let out a small noise of pain when your chin collides with his cuirass and he’s quick and even a little frantic as he cups your flushed cheeks and tilts your head backwards so he can get a better look at your face, his leather thumb moving to ghost along your sore chin.

He almost sounds ashamed when he speaks up and you feel your heart plummet into the pit of your stomach.

“I hurt you.”

“You… what?” You don’t know what to say, absolutely shocked by how guilty he sounds as he continues to lightly stroke your chin, “You did no such thing, Mandalorian. My clumsiness is not your fault and you should not blame yourself for saving me from worse injuries. Please, keep going. I want to see the hot springs.”

His thumb grazes what you’re sure will be a bruise in the morning, but you think it’s the first time someone has ever unintentionally left a mark on you without any ill intent. With a sharp nod, the blue Mandalorian presses a firm hand to the small of your back and guides you deeper into the grotto, though you’re certain by the way his visor keeps tilting down towards the lower half of your face that he’s still upset over your lack of grace.

“I would not think a nurse to be clumsy.”

He doesn’t sound admonishing or judgmental, but more upset and confused than anything and you can’t help but to find his curiosity endearing, “I am a trained nurse, not a skilled warrior like you. The only thing graceful about me are my hands.”

His helmet cocks to the side, “I’ll be sure to remember that for future reference.”

Your cheeks burn viciously at the implication of his words and deciding it best to not dig yourself into a deeper hole, you grow silent and continue to follow him.

A tiny gasp escapes you when you hear the unfamiliar sounds of running water and you immediately perk up, no longer hesitant as you skip in front of the Mandalorian to venture further within the dwellings of the cold cave. Luckily, the little flashlight attached to his helmet guides your way as you follow the unfamiliar sounds trickling water and you can hear the warrior quickly shuffling to follow you, as if he’s worried you’re going to trip and fall again. Only when he gently advises you to slow down, your hasty footsteps dissolve into a slower stroll and you’re barely aware of the way you grab his hand once again, tugging him towards the sound of rushing water.

When you finally make it to the destination he had longed to show you in the first place, you freeze in awe and wonder.

“Stars,” You murmur as you gaze upon the gorgeous, glowing plants that surround a thin creek of aquamarine water, along with several little ponds filled with steaming hot water, “This is…”

As you stare at the budding flowers and crystal-like plants that glow with a whimsical shimmer and brighten up the tavern, you realize you’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful in your entire life. The flowers that miraculously grow underground are all vibrant shades of sapphire and magenta and even though you should be intrigued by the steamy ponds filled with crystal blue water, a huge, unintentional smile spreads across your lips as your fingertips lightly skim along silky azure petals.

You can’t stop yourself from plucking a healthy-looking flower and bringing it up to your nostrils with a soft smile, your eyelids slipping shut when the floral scent invades your senses completely. If you thought the huge cliffs and shimmering constellations had been beautiful, they had absolutely nothing on the vibrant flowers that softly illuminate the grotto, or the aquamarine water that has steam rising from the surface. With the stem of the flower still intertwined between your fingers, you slowly make your way towards one of the smaller hot springs in the cave and slowly sink to your knees so you can lightly skim your fingers along the surface of the delightfully warm water.

A grin tugs at your lips as you submerge your hand completely and wriggle your fingers around.

“Mesh’la.”

You immediately turn your head in his direction, inquisitive eyes scanning his dark blue helmet because it’s the first time he’s said that word in front of your and you wonder what the hell the Mandalorian must be calling you in his native language. You hope it’s nothing too insulting or demeaning, though the way he breathes it so fondly makes you think he must be complimenting you, rather than throwing judgment your way. His helmet jolts a little, as if he doesn’t realize he’s been staring at you through the safety of his visor, and he clears his throat a little before slowly sauntering to where you’re settled on the edge of the hot spring.

“You can…” He sounds a little hesitant as he approaches you and crouches down so he’s not towering over you, “You can take off your shoes and socks if you want. I brought…” A soft expression crosses your features when you realize he’s nervous as he gazes down at the canvas bag he’s clutching tightly, “I brought this for you.”

Reluctantly, he shoves the small bag in your direction and looks away as you peer inside at the contents, your eyes widening when your fingers graze thick leather, “I-I can’t accept this, Mandalorian. You have already done far too much for me and I would not be able to repay you.”

“You need new boots, saviin’ika,” He observes you as you reluctantly remove the shoes from the bag completely, fingers inspecting the quality of the leather, “Besides, these were made for another Mandalorian in the covert but were too small; they should fit you well enough.”

“I don’t have enough credits to repay you.”

"Then don't."

"Manda--"

“Maker, you really are a stubborn little thing,” The blue warrior says in a deadpan tone, reaching out so his fingertips can lightly graze your flushed cheek; immediately, you remember the way he had caressed your cheeks and lips just a week ago and you lower your head so he can’t see the longing in your eyes.

The Mandalorian lets out an exasperated sigh when you hold out the boots for him to take, though he simply shakes his helmet, “Not everything requires a price. You gave me that salve even though I couldn’t afford it,” You open your mouth to argue with him, though he’s faster and much more stubborn than you are, “If you truly wish to pay me back, then do it with your company.”

“I don’t really make for the best companionship.”

“I think your companionship would be the only kind I wished for, outside of my tribe.”

You ignore the intense warmth in your cheeks as you reluctantly place the boots on the ground next to you before reaching back into the bag to see what else he brought for you. Upon pulling out a jar that’s filled with white, rocky chunks, you perk up and quickly unscrew the lid to smell the aromatic salt; the intense eucalyptus scent nearly brings tears to your eyes as it tickles your nostrils and clears your sinuses.

“Healing salts?” You say it as a question, though it’s more of an observation, and you turn to the blue warrior with raised brows and a slight smile, “I feel like a spoiled woman.”

He grunts and turns his visor away from you, standing up to take a seat on a flat rock that’s right behind you and you can feel the armor covering his knee grazing your shoulder blade, “You care too much for others and not enough for yourself, little nurse. It would be good for you to relax for a while.”

“And what about you, Mandalorian?” You unfold your legs from underneath your body and start to unlace your worn out boots, avoiding his shiny visor as you continue, “I’m sure those weapons and that jetpack must weigh down on your body, no?”

After tugging off your boots and socks, you roll your head backwards so you can peer up at him. Despite all of his clunky weapons and equipment, he seems relaxed as he leans forward a little, padded elbows resting on top of his thighs; he cocks his helmet to the side as he observes your upside down gaze.

He flexes his fingers a little and you think it must be some sort of habit for him to constantly crack his stiff joints, “You’re asking a Mandalorian to disarm his weapons?”

You giggle a little and turn your attention back to the hot spring as you slowly submerge your feet into the soothing hot water, shuddering at how good it feels after being on your feet all day, "I would not ask you to do such a thing, silly man. I'm simply asking for you to relax with me; you deserve it just as much as I do."

He huffs out an amused noise and you turn to gaze at him over your shoulder to watch him slowly remove the cannon that's as tall as you, propping it up against the rock next to his thigh. You raise your brows when he lets out an exasperated grunt upon removing his jetpack, cursing in his native language as he rolls his shoulders.

"Told you all of that equipment must weigh down on you," He shakes his helmet at your gentle quip and lightly nudges your shoulders with his knee before removing his utility belt, "It is good for you to relax too, Mandalorian, especially if your tribe requires your protection."

"You needed this more than me."

You hum as you carefully dump a small amount of the healing salts into the hot spring, avoiding his emotionless gaze as you muster up the courage to say what’s been clawing at the back of you mind since after your initial meeting with the enigmatic warrior.

“Why do you find it so important to take care of me?”

Besides the peaceful sounds of running water and chirping crickets, it’s deathly silent and you fear that the Mandalorian will refuse to answer your question. You lower your head, shame and regret burning something fierce in your cheeks as the silence overwhelms you and convinces you that he does not care about you--that it’s all part of your imagination. You hear him shuffle around and you think he’s attaching his equipment back to his armor, probably wanting to already leave the beautiful cave.

Then a bare hand is on the center of your spine and you find yourself shivering and sighing as a massive hand idly trails up your back. His callused fingers easily push past your thick braids and find purchase on your nape; an embarrassed whimper leaves you when he firmly strokes and squeezes the tension away from your stiff muscles.

“Because, mesh’la,” His voice is close to your ear and when you turn your head in the slightest, your surprised to find his visor just inches away from your eyes, “I would not stand by and watch a harsh world beat you down so easily.”

You think him to be the best thief in the village, because his next words, followed by the press of his forehead against yours, has you bereft of any air that had previously filled your lungs.

“I would much rather see you with that pretty smile that actually meets your eyes, rather than bruises and cuts on your face. I would bring you here every night if it meant seeing that light in your eyes. even if for only a few seconds.”

The smile you grace him with is so genuine and huge that it hurts your cheeks.

Though you believe the Maker to be so cruel to bless you with such a tender companionship, surely with the intentions to eventually rip it away from your grasps, you will allow yourself to feel such happiness in that moment.

sen’tra= Jetpack

saviin’ika= Little violet

mesh’la= Beautiful

Author’s Note: First off, I know I’ve said a bajillion times and I’m never going to stop saying how sweet and supportive you all are! When I first came up with the idea for this story, I certainly had no intentions of people reading it since it’s so self-indulgent and I’m just a soft baby that loves the thought of huge, tough warriors also being soft babies lol. I’m glad we’re all fans of tender Mandalorians being soft with their partners and I’m so appreciative of all the kind comments y’all have left. I hope you all continue to enjoy my story and I promise I’ll try to update as consistently as my hectic schedule will allow me to.

I love you all <3

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege

If I missed anyone, please let me know!!

#paz vizla x you #paz vizla x reader #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #paz vizla #my writing #IM SO SORRY THIS WASN'T REAADY AT 5 LIKE I SAID IT WOULD BE #I WAS UNHAPPY WITH CERTAIN PARTS AND KEPT CHANGING THINGS #ANYWAYS #PAZ VIZLA IS BASICALLY READER'S SUGAR DADDY #BUT INSTEAD OF MONEY #HE GIVES HER EMOTIONAL SUPPORT

449 notes · View notes

chibivesicle · 4 years ago

Text

Golden Kamuy chapter 259 & 260 - predictable events [shrugs]

Chapter 259 starts with a flashback to Abashiri Prison as Boutarou is released from solitary confinement. Shiraishi asks him what he did to land in solitary, specifically who he beat up - and we learn it was Ueji. This goes back to the story by Ueji about how he told Boutarou he saw his aunt, a woman that Boutarou has now confirmed never existed. Since Ueji was messing with Boutarou, he was upset/offended enough that he had no problem killing him.

This shows us that Boutarou seems to be sensitive to joking/teasing/bullying as Shiraishi chides him for his frequent trips to solitary.

This allows for us to see a contemplative/serious facial expression on Boutarou’s face before he continues the conversation with Shiraishi who is picking his nose with his toes?

This then allows for a wistful looking image of Shiraishi replying that he doesn’t have any family waiting for him outside of prison, and he was abandoned at a temple as a baby. This knowledge of abandonment is how Boutarou wants to connect with Shiraishi; that they are alone in this world at the present.

This allows Boutarou to ask him if he’d return to the temple, but Shiraishi could careless; he ran away in the first place and it likely doesn’t exist as it seemed to be on its way out. As expected, he just jokes if he had a lot of money he’d spent it on prostitutes (and implying that he’s filling his emptiness with transactional sex).

Nihei, reminds them the only thing that matters is to use the tattoo as a way to get out of prison and do whatever you want unrelated to the gold. This is expected for the man who returned to the mountain to hunt.

They return to Boutarou’s goal, to amass a small fortune e.g. the gold and create his own kingdom. The next page or so just focuses on how he came from a large family with 14 members and how he was the only one who didn’t die of smallpox. He isn’t just interested in having a large family to compensate for his lost family, he goes beyond that where by becoming the king, he’ll always be remembered and not forgotten as the founder. He is a man who wants to preserve himself not only genetically through having lots of kids but also through mythology and nation building concepts.

Shiraishi and Nihei tease him a little about his dreams which they find to be completely unrealistic which he is not amused with. Speaking very frankly with him, Shiraishi points out that Boutarou is a lonely guy and that his dream is a reflection of his loneliness.

This exchange is interesting to me for two reasons. 1.) This shows us that Shiraishi is an observant guy which we know but it is another instance of it in his past. 2.) He can be very blunt and forward with Boutarou. I find him to be very assertive with Boutarou, a man who just came out of solitary for beating up another prisoner. Yet, Shiraishi can speak like this with him and this also alludes to their current time line interactions where Boutarou respects Shiraishi and understands him well - as well as Shiraishi understands him.

This frank openness between them continues on the next page. Shiraishi jokes back that he’s been a king - and escape king. But Boutarou’s critique of him is a valid and honest one.

Breaking out of jail isn’t a long term plan. Having a dream like Boutarou’s is a viable plan, that since he is unwelcome in current society, he’s like ‘fuck this - I’ll just make my own society’ He lost his home and community support and it was clearly influential on him as a child both having a family and then the loss. So, for him creating his own special home is his driving force in his actions and reason to become involved in the hunt for the gold.

And not missing a beat, he tells Shiraishi he also needs to create his own home if he lacks one - just like him. The level of frankness between the two of them - they clearly have more than just a passing ‘professional’ relationship.

The manga returns to the current events and Boutarou is telling Asirpa to let go of the door so that she can return to her home with Sugimoto and that they can become a family. I get it, he knows she has a crush on him and all little girls dream of finding a man and getting married etc etc. I don’t doubt Asirpa’s crush on Sugimoto, but she is also not the type of young teen girl who would be so simple minded.

Sugimoto is struggling to breathe in a corridor of the brewery as he falls into his rather pathetic monologuing about how pathetic he is. Nice copy and paste of the rifle there Noda. We saw it a few chapters ago when Ogata was eyeing Usami’s which was also Ogata’s when Vasily sniped at them.

Why do I not take Sugimoto’s whole ‘boo hoo’ bit seriously? Because this shows us how he actually sees Asirpa and her relationship with him. He ‘finally got her back’ she ‘got stolen away again’. Even with the English translation, the intention is still clear, Asirpa is like an object to him.

Read these following sentences;

1. Kiro and Ogata stole Asirpa from Sugimoto.

2. Kiro and Ogata kidnapped Asirpa from Sugimoto.

3. Kiro, and Ogata took Asirpa to Karafuto.

As an objective reader of the manga which of these is the most factually correct? Number 3, at heart Kiro and Ogata had a plan to take Asirpa to Karafuto to learn the code and connect with Sofia. Yet, this is not the narrative that Sugimoto tells himself or others. He continues to go with number 1, that Kiro and Ogata stole Asirpa from him and now Boutarou stole Asirpa from him. Asirpa is something that he possesses. This is problematic as it shows how unequal their partnership is.

I’d argue a more equal partnership if he used number 2. That she was kidnapped which is a word we use to distinguish people from mere objects in English. Is my argument 100% based on this - not quite since we are working with the translation of the original text, but ever since Karafuto, Sugimoto has acted like Asirpa is something that he and only he has privy to and completely ignores the fact that she is her own person and will exercise free will.

Therefore, this also pokes holes in Boutarou’s reading that Asirpa will cave to the idea that if he tells her to go home and marry Sugimoto that will solve her problems. I’m pretty confident that Asirpa does not see her relationship with Sugimoto the same way that he sees her and Shiraishi already made a point about this back before they were to meet up with Tsurumi.

Anyways, back to the action. We don’t see if Asirpa let’s go of the door, we just see that Koito is aggressively approaching Boutarou with his sabre raised and notices that he has Asirpa.

With is luscious locks, Bouatrou is able to distract Koito and punch him with his long reach. He goes to shoot Koito, but a shot hits his hand with the revolver and it is Tsukishima close behind.

He orders Boutarou to withdraw, and he dashes out with Asirpa and heads to a lower level where the beer flood happened.

Asirpa is still resisting trying to hold onto the railings of a staircase, making his fast escape a bit of an issue. She also is able to raise a fundamental question - the gold was supposed to be used by the Ainu to create their own country. Therefore, if the gold is stolen by Boutarou, she will be unable to protect her own homeland - the one he keeps telling her to go back to.

We get an image of the clear cutting of the forest in Hokkaido that almost killed her and then she thinks of the kotan where Wilk was born that is now a fox farm. The traces of her Karafuto relatives is already gone, taken over by the Japanese for less sustainable practices.

Boutarou sweats nervously, he doesn’t have an answer for her since this is now an example of conflict with their own dreams and goals for the gold. However, this philosophical pause from him, allows for Koito the strike him with his sabre from behind. Koito prepares for his second strike as Boutarou falls back into the pool of beer.

Asirpa meanwhile still clings to the stair railing as Koito is ready to strike again.

Boutarou swims off and it is unclear where he’s gone to. Koito is impressed by Boutarou’s toughness as Asirpa coughs on the stairs. Only then do we hear Tsukishima’s voice asking Koito where he is. And with that I internally groan.

Me - goddammit Koito! Why did you go and do almost the exact same thing you did on the ice floe and with Sugimoto. Don’t rush ahead with no back up. You just realized he’s a tough guy. Well, at least this time he tells Tsukishima where he is and to come quickly.

He says that he secured Asirpa and doesn’t notice that Boutarou has emerged from the beer and is clearly going to attack him. He looks like a gross beer/swamp monster, his teeth visible and eyes covered by his long hair.

By time Tsukishima arrives with his rifle at ready he sees Asirpa and only Koito’s sabre.

[facepalms]

Come on Koito, I’m rooting for you buddy, but please stop running ahead. You are slowly getting better, but one aspect of being a leader of men is to have men to lead, not leave behind.

And the chapter ends with his heightened tension that Koito has been pulled back under the beer.

I have other deep thoughts (lol. terrible pun) about chapter 259 so lets move onto 260 which goes back a few seconds to show us what happened to Koito. Boutarou reaches out towards Koito and he’s able to overpower him.

Asirpa tries to crawl away as Koito drops his sabre and is drug under the surface of the beer. We all know that Boutarou is going to try to drown him as he can hold his breath longer than his victims.

Tsukishima finally reaches where Asirpa is and he flat out asks her were Koito is. She ignores him and tries to dash away, but he grabs onto her wolf pelt cloak. The last panel then shoes her as she draws her knife and swings at Tsukishima!

Yes! Asirpa is about to use her knife against him! There is so much desperation in her behavior. Koito then reaches his hand up as bubbles come to the surface, and we see Tsukishima holding Asirpa’s hand on her knife. Tsukishima calls out for Koito and Asirpa tells him that he was pulled into the beer.

He then uses his rifle to hold her against him and still holds her hand with the knife out of the way as he tells himself that Asirpa is more important than everything else.

Koito is held underwater as his boot sticks out and we see that Boutarou is trying to strangle him with his hair (he truly has impressive hair!) as Koito begins to weaken. We are left briefly wondering if Koito will be abandoned - but come on, we know what will happen.

Tsukishima kicks Boutarou in the head allowing Koito to sit up. Tsukishima then shoots Boutarou, and we see some blood diffuse out into the beer. Tsukishima is focused as he ejects the empty shell and Boutarou swims off.

He tells Koito to get out of the beer as he may return, and Koito angrily asks about Asirpa. She’s heading out on her own, as the smoke causes her to cough her knife out and ready. Koito is upset that Tsukishima[aaaa] let her go to save him. This is so interesting to me as it does show that Koito felt that he is less important than Asirpa. He was willing to potentially die which, despite his impulsive behaviors, this time he at least seems to be aware of it.

Tsukishima can’t look at him as he apologizes and Koito berates him that saving him is not a priority. This pretty much seals the deal for these two men. Tsukishima is Koito’s older brother and he has shown that he doesn’t have it in himself to hurt Koito for Tsurumi.

This is at least one instance where Koito does at least own up and state that he should have followed orders. So, kudos to more self-aware Koito, though I’m sure he’s still thankful that Tsukishima saved him.

Nikaido is randomly wandering around (clearly no longer wanting to kill Sugimoto) as he finds her.

She again aggressively goes to strike him with her knife. Asirpa is beyond desperate - is she trying to mirror Sugimoto by just forging ahead and attacking everyone with no thought about harming them?

But just like with Tsukishima, she is immediately overpowered. Without her poison tipped arrows, she’s at a huge disadvantage. Emulating your crush’s fighting style isn’t going to work.

Thankfully, karma intervenes and she doesn’t harm him. Instead, she activates his chopstick dispenser and she’s taken down by a chopstick to the forehead.

This is rather fitting since, she’s been stopped by an item she would find important, chopsticks which along with spoons facilitate one of her loves - food. And with that she is delivered to Tsurumi who praises Nikaido.

The next page is when things get really interesting. Nikaido is upset that Sugimoto is alive and Tsurumi blows him off. Very rough looking Tsukishima and Koito then make it to Tsurumi to see that Asirpa has been caught. Likely on autopilot, Tsukishima starts speaking . . . but Koito then continues and reports to him as the commanding officer of the two.

He then mid-explaination becomes incredibly uncomfortable unable to speak. We can’t see Tsurumi’s facial expression, it would be nice to know what Koito sees as he only awkwardly ends stating they were in the brewery.

Koito is sweating profusely, whatever Tsurumi looked like, he just realized that he should have let Tsukishima do the talking as he’s given away that his fear of speaking to Tsurumi is gone. The fact that Tsurumi hesitates before telling him that he understands, leaves Koito in shock as Tsukishima is likely trying to not lose it with him. Since he now knows that Koito has given away something about his changed status towards Tsurumi. Since Tsurumi is in the realm of super smart villain, I’d guess Tsukishima knows that Tsurumi knows about how Koito learned something about his kidnapping which was what lead to his in ability to speak to him in the first place. Recall, that when they were in Kagoshima, young Koito could speak to Tsurumi with little issue.

Tsurumi then calls for a retreat and avoid any more fights. Apparently, he now has enough information to crack the code. Okay Tsurumi - does this mean you can do so with Asirpa? Since, he still doesn’t know the Ainu name that is matches with. . . .

Nikaido pouts in the background as Koito looks like he wants to fade into the background. Tsukishima clearly doesn’t look happy either as he holds Asirpa. I guess being Tsurumi’s right hand man means he gets to hold onto her?

He likely feels uncomfortable about things since now that Koito has let the cat out of the bag, Tsurumi will likely ask him about what happened between them.

Boutarou exits, pissed off at how he lost Asirpa but seems to be alright overall. Of course, the next page reveals Sugimoto charging towards him to give Asirpa back. Yep, attack first, ask questions later/maybe Sugimoto.

Sugimoto pretty much has murder eyes as he thinks attacking Boutarou will solve his problem.

Now, the fact that Boutarou has survived this well, tells me that he likely has the same ‘luck’ that Sugimoto has. He was stabbed by Sugimoto, his ear cut off, slashed by Koito, and shot twice by Tsukishima. It is pretty damn obvious that Boutarou is to be both a foil and a twin to Sugimoto. The only difference between them is Boutarou became a criminal, while Sugimoto became a soldier a man with a license to kill under the laws of the government while enlisted in the army. Since leaving the army, he’s killed many people in the quest for the gold, but that doesn’t make him a ‘good guy’ because he’s a former soldier.

Sugimoto is always trying to tell others how he’s better than they are. He’s better than the convicts because he didn’t break the law. But, if we look at his own actions, he may have been worse than some of the convicts having killed more people than they did. Think of Shiraishi or Nihei. Nihei killed those hunters, but he refused to go off to war and lost his son in the Sino-Japanese war. Therefore, we could argue that based on the number of people killed, Sugimoto is far worse than Nihei as he was almost karmic in his revenge. Furthermore, Nihei even let himself be arrested, he killed the one man but didn’t even fight the police as his revenge was complete and he accepted his fate.

What I’m getting to is that Boutarou is the character who is going to disrupt Sugimoto and make him very uncomfortable and be unable to keep acting like he’s on the ‘right’ side of things. Sugimoto needs to stop othering the convicts and tell himself he’s better than all of them - his own decisions led him to this just like something drove Boutarou to become a pirate and criminal.

I predict that Shiraishi will rush in to stop Sugimoto from killing Boutarou. We still need to learn more about their past and what is the full connection between Shiraishi and Boutarou. There is much more to learn, Shiraishi is too open and frank with him and he lets Boutarou get close to him physically and emotionally.

Hijikata’s group then regroups and decides what to do. Of course Hijikata being the manly man that he is, states he’ll enter if required.

Kirawus then begins to panic that that no one has seen Kadokura. Apparently shooting off the firework was too distracting for him and he didn’t keep track of his drinking buddy. What were you doing man? Where were you? You aren’t very good at these sorts of things?

Kadokura apologizes to Hijikata for failing to stick with him to the end as he lie on the floor of the room with the mash pots. We see Kirawus at his most emotional as he cries out and Kantarou holds him back.

Is Kirawus a softy at heart? I was predicting that he’d have gone in to save him but no, we get a demonstration of Kadokura’s good bad luck as the collapsing building makes a bed for him, tucks him into the futon and even gives him a beer to enjoy.

I personally like this use of extremely unlikely events surrounding him. Sometimes, I find some of the more crass humor in GK to be not my cup of tea, but this sort of absurdist humor is good. For a very action and emotionally charged chapter this is a good resolution of the tension.

Kadokura is rewarded for trying his best by being rescued by the building. Yep, he’s certainly more competent than he appears. Is he the secret weapon of team Hijikata?

Conclusions on these chapters.

As I stated in the title, things are pretty predictable, but rewarding for the readers at least.

Asirpa has shown that when she loses her cool, she leads to her own capture. Separated from Sugimoto, she makes many poor decisions. She tries to leave Koito to be killed by Boutarou. She attacks Tsukishima and Nikaido. She tried to use the poison arrow on Kikuta. As a character who started out with a strong do no harm to other humans, she’s quickly sliding into grey. I think the worst part was almost ignoring Koito. She is hesitant to tell Tsukishima what happened and uses his pause to try to attack him.

Her capture is the worst outcome of events. She should have listened to Kikuta and found another solution. She could have just let Boutarou escape with her and bide her time. It seems that her reckless and aggressive behavior has backfired. Sure, some readers will be like ‘She was just defending herself!’ but without her arrows, she is at a huge disadvantage and should know when to give up. I’m pretty sure that this mindset comes from her being with Sugimoto.

Boutarou will team up with Sugimoto with Shiraishi as the mediator. ‘Cause it is obvious.

Koito is freaked out that he gave away his personal growth, Nikaido is stewing in the background and Tsukishma just looks guilty.

Hijikata’s group will likely retreat with Kadokura leaving Shiraishi, Boutarou, and Sugimoto behind. Since other than Shiraishi, the other two men are just annoyances to Hijikata.

Ogata is somewhere. Is he going to continue his sniper battle or will he retreat? He seemed pretty chill when he walked by Kikuta. The smoke and fire and chaos will really mess with things, but Vasily is likely losing his cool.

Vasily, the character who had potential but currently is lame may be waiting for Ogata? Or maybe he could pull back?

Lastly, where is Kikuta? Does he know that Ogata shot Usami? I can’t help but seeing him stroll into the headquarters of the 27th and be like “Hey everyone. What did I miss?” [as he strikes a sexy pose and lights a cigarette].

It would be neat to learn if they at least chatted about something.

Well that is all for now. Let’s see how the insanity continues to unfold.

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy meta #asirpa #koito otonoshin #tsukishima hajime #tsurumi tokushirou #nikaido #sugimoto saichi #boutarou the pirate #Shiraishi Yoshitake #warrant officer kikuta #kadokura #kirawus #hijikata toshizo

28 notes · View notes

badger-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Star Wars OC Ship Week 2021 - “for light and life”

Day 4 - Action/Adventure

Then...

Sskeer came at him like a feral Nexu, leveraging a ferocious primal strength into a totally unrelenting barrage of lightsaber strikes. He assaulted Kelto’s defense with a flurry of fast, sweeping slashes, battering his sides with wide swordstrokes and raining down heavy overhead blows from above - the hallmarks of the Aggression Form, Ataru, his skill at which he had honed to razor keenness over the long period of his Knighthood.

Kelto wished he had foreseen that the intensity of his friend’s fighting style would match that of his demeanor. More than that, though, he wished he had kept up with his saber practice. His style was that of Resilience, Soresu, a style which valued ultimate defense - a fitting form for a practitioner of the healing arts, but not for a duelist. As the Rodian himself now proved, being buffeted as he was around the sparring circle, preventing the Trandoshan from landing a blow by last-minute movement or the skin of his teeth.

Kelto had assumed working in the medical ward precluded the possibility of encountering lightsaber combat in his daily life. Sskeer had made it his mission to thoroughly deconstruct that notion.

“Focus,” he hissed over the electrical crash of their plasma blades. “Do not let the fight dictate your reality.”

“I’m not,” Kelto protested. “I’m - I’m enduring!”

“Survival alone will not guarantee victory. If you spend all your energy waiting for a counterblow, you will lose. You must seize control, not wait for it to be given!”

He lifted his blade as if to strike Kelto’s right quarter, then swung instead for his feet. The Rodian jumped back, landing unsteadily on his feet, and attempted to reestablish his guard. With a thrust, Sskeer pushed it away.

“Just give me a second,” Kelto grunted, swatting away another incoming blow.’

“Your opponent will show no mercy. Why should I?”

“Just - just slow down! I can’t - I can’t keep up with you!”

“You’re in over your head,” Sskeer lectured. “Becoming flustered. The fear, the anger - it is taking hold of you.”

“Sskeer, please--!”

“Without balance, we lose discipline. Without discipline, we lose control.”

With a cry, Kelto lashed out - a clumsy, sloppy swing that was born of no style save frustration. Sskeer dodged it easily. Then he reached out with his free hand and seized the front of the healer’s tunic in an iron-clawed grasp. This was followed with a leg sweep that knocked his feet out from under him and a simple throw that sent him definitively down to the mattress. The impact forced the breath from Kelto’s lungs and his lightsaber from his fingers, its training blade disappearing with a sad hiss as it deactivated.

Sskeer held the point of his own saber over Kelto’s heart where he lay. His reptilian face was sympathetic, but pitiless.

“And that is why we must drill,” he said.

Groaning, Kelto forced himself up on his elbows. He was panting hard, sweat shining on his face and darkening the collar of his robes. By contrast, Sskeer didn’t seem to have a hair out of place, insofar as one could say such a thing about a Trandoshan.

“Dammit,” the Rodian gasped. “I just -- I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“You were unwise to lower your defenses,” Sskeer began, fixing his hilt to his belt. “Your last swing created a clear angle of attack on your center.”

“I figured that part out, thanks,” Kelto snapped, drawing his knees to his chest. “It’s everything else that’s a problem.”

“The fault isn’t yours alone. Soresu prioritizes defense above all others, but a shield alone cannot win a battle. You must bring a sword as well. That is what I am trying to show you, Kelto.”

“Well, all you’re showing me right now is that my shield sucks.”

“A problem that can be solved. But not by ruminating on your failures.”

The Rodian sighed violently, glaring between his toes. Turning towards the edge of the circle, Sskeer reached out and used the Force to levitate a canister of water into his waiting hand. Then he sat cross-legged on the floor beside Kelto, offering Kelto the canteen. He took it like a secondhand trophy.

“This time you lasted much longer,” Sskeer informed him as he gulped down the cool liquid. “Against an Ataru as aggressive as my own, that is no easy feat. I commend you.”

“I still lost,” Kelto observed grumpily.

“This is true. When your attitude about saber combat changes, this will change, too.”

“That’s just it, Sskeer - I don’t think it will.” Kelto let out a guilty breath. “Saber combat was never important to me. It never felt - right. A pacifist shouldn’t carry a laser sword. And neither should a healer.”

“A pacifist can be a healer, and a peacekeeper as well. More than that, he ought to be able to defend himself. All of these concepts can coexist.”

“I understand that, but - come on, you don’t really believe we’ll be having lightsaber duels again, do you? The Sith have been extinct for ages by now. Who would strike at the Jedi or the Republic on such a scale again?”

“I don’t know,” Sskeer said slowly. “I hope such a conflict does not occur for many generations to come. But I believe in being prepared for the galaxy’s sake, if not only my own. And so should you.”

“But - but I barely leave the Temple,” Kelto protested. “I barely even leave my quarters!”

“You cannot rely on routine and habit to shield you from the world. The future will find bring you to many dangers, Kelto, whether that be a patrol in the Coruscant underworld or a mission of peace and relief to the Outer Rim. It may even bring danger to you, here, in the place where we Jedi feel safest. Will you feel very wise then, if you allow yourself to become comfortable and complacent? Will you feel safe? Will those in your care?”

Kelto had no answer. He went back to staring uncertainly at his toes.

Sskeer heaved a breath through his nostrils. “If I upset you, I apologize. It is a matter I care deeply about. For the sake of the galaxy - and for your own. It is… the way of the Guardian.”

“I know.”

“When we continue, I will… slow down, and offer more suggestions for improvement. From now on, we proceed at your pace, not mine.”

“...Thank you, Sskeer. That… means a lot.”

The Trandoshan reached out and rested a palm on Kelto’s shoulder. “I seek only to serve you, Healer. And to help.”

Kelto offered him a shaky smile, covering his hand with his own. “Don’t we all?”

Now…

Oh good. The pirates had sliced a loadlifter.

Kelto swore under his breath and ducked as a Class B medium cargo container went hurtling through the air overhead, smashing through part of the hastily-erected CSF barricade. The ziggurat platform of the derrick major squatted over them all, offering the criminals and their reprogrammed muscle an opportunity for raining blasterfire and shipping crates down upon the police frontline. The sting operation had clearly failed; the pirates weren’t leaving without a fight, and the police were horribly outnumbered.

And the only thing standing between them and death by volleys of laser fire was Kelto and Sskeer.

One thing Soresu was good for was deflection training. As bolts of sizzling red plasma plunged towards them, Kelto intercepted them with his blade, sending them harmlessly into the ground or off to the side. Beside him, Sskeer, too, was bouncing shots off the edge of his saber, though his technique lacked refinement; in trying, perhaps, to reflect the pirates’ own shots back at them, they instead bounced wildly back into the loading bay, spalling off chunks of permacrete or ricocheting off the surface of blast-resistant cargo pods.

“Injured to our left,” Kelto called out as he sensed them. “I’m going to get them.”

“I’ll give you cover,” Sskeer nodded. “Let’s move.”

Carefully, they sidestrafed through the wide open space of the cargo landing. Kelto relied on intuition to lead them to the wounded, and for intuition, he trusted the Force. It brought them to the foot of a gantry crane where two dockworkers and a security official were taking cover. The officer was slumped against its foot, bleeding slightly from the mouth, a darkly-singed crater on his stomach where a blaster bolt had breached his body armor.

“Give me cover,” Kelto ordered, and Sskeer obliged; he held his lightsaber out before him through the Force and made it spin until a single spear of light became a dazzling electric-blue shield, almost completely circular in the perfection of its cycle. Incoming fire was all but spattered harmlessly away.

Sheathing his own blade, Kelto crouched down beside the cop, examining his wound. “What’s your name, officer?”

“J-Joh,” the man sputtered. “Joh Andaris.”

“It’s good to meet you, Joh. I’m Kelto. You’re gonna be fine.” He took a stim-shot from a hip pouch and injected it into the man’s shoulder. “That’s to get you on your feet. In a couple of seconds my friend and I are going to have some words with those gentlemen up on the warehouse level, and when we do that I need you all to run back towards the police line, yes?”

“How are we supposed to get all the way back there?!” one of the workers, an Aqualish, quailed. “We’ll be ripped to shreds!”

“We’ll draw their fire.” Kelto lifted the man up onto his feet. “Be ready.”

“All by yourselves?!”

“It’s what we do. We are all the Republic.”

He turned back to Sskeer just in time to watch a blaster bolt slip through his defenses. It slid perfectly through a gap in his deflection pattern and sheared over the surface of his shoulder; the Trandoshan hissed, almost dropping his concentration, calling his saber back to his hand for a more conventional defense.

To the far right of their position, back across the way, Kelto sighted a Class C cargo unit - a long trapezoid of rust-colored durasteel, taller than him by quite a bit and by Sskeer by not much more. But size mattered not. He stretched out his hands and cradled it in the Force, lifting it - pulling it close to the point it blocked all the incoming fire that Sskeer was drawing.

The Rodian edged out behind it as the civilians used its cover to limp back to safety. Sskeer, in turn, took hold of the container as well; they moved in concert, step by step, pushing forward to the center of the plaza.

“How’s your shoulder?” Kelto called. He had to raise his voice, otherwise Sskeer might not have heard him over the hailstorm of blaster shots pitting the other side of their durasteel wall.

“I’ve had worse.”

Kelto glanced at the wound. It was oozing emerald green blood into Sskeer’s white-and-gold Jedi robes. “Not that by much,” he commented. “Sure you don’t want a stim?”

“Save it. Maybe one of the gentlemen shooting at us needs a pick-me-up,” the Trandoshan retorted.

“Hey, you wanted me out here!”

“Just be ready--”

“I’m with you--”

“For light and life!”

Together, they angled the container upwards - and hurled it through the air towards the pirates. They scattered back, falling away from the walkway above, as it crashed through the railing and rolled to a stop somewhere beyond the edge.

Leaping to a phenomenal height, Sskeer and Kelto followed after it.

Then…

When he landed, Kelto ducked into a roll, swiping out at Sskeer’s shins; the Trandoshan moved to push the blow away, realized there wasn’t enough time, and only just managed to jump back from it before it connected. He grinned even through his blocking when it was followed by an evenly-spaced series of strikes.

“Good,” he said over the clash of lightsabers. “Good! Seize the offensive. Build on your momentum.”

Kelto smirked at him through their blade lock. “Now who’s waiting for a countermove?”

In response Sskeer levered his blade away, moving his own smoothly back and up through the air for an overhead slash. Here, Kelto did something he did not expect; instead of intercepting his attack directly, he sidestepped to his right and brought his lightsaber upwards at a diagonal angle, following the edge of Sskeer’s blade in almost perfect parallel.

In spite of himself, Kelto grinned triumphantly as he made his attack. His saber’s edge would travel directly into Sskeer’s belly, framed by the position of his knees below and his arms above; it was a guaranteed hit. A guaranteed victory, even!

But then Sskeer reared back hard, forcing himself to bend at a near ninety-degree angle to the floor, supporting his body almost solely through pushing down through the balls of his feet. As Kelto’s strike swung harmlessly over him, brilliant turquoise energy passing right above his face, he pivoted hard on his toes, swinging out from under Kelto’s arms and pirouetting away from his opponent’s zone of control. Transforming a decisive blow into a near miss.

Spinning his saber in one-handed agitation, Kelto gave him a Rodian stink eye. “A giant like you,” he said crossly, “should not be allowed to move like that.”

Sskeer fixed him with a sly stare. “That’s not what you thought last Fete Week.”

“Don’t go there,” the healer laughed, pointing with his sword warningly. “Do not go there.”

“Try and stop me,” the Guardian said, huskily.

Kelto gave a cry of action and surged forward, clutching his sword like a spear--

And at the last moment Sskeer stepped to one side, and Kelto saw how close to the edge of the sparring circle he’d been standing. In a panic, he threw out his free hand and grabbed the front of Sskeer’s robe, his toes digging into the mat and dragging him to a stop, hanging almost completely over the short dip down to the floor below.

“Your next lesson,” Sskeer declared passively. Having an entire Rodian come to an emergency stop by clinging desperately to his shirt hadn’t so much as budged him. “Don’t blind yourself to your surroundings.”

“That’s not fair,” Kelto protested half-heartedly. “You distracted me.”

“That is the point.” He grabbed Kelto by the arm and pulled him back to his feet on the sparring mat. “I’m supposed to.”

“It wasn’t the fair kind of distraction.”

“No fight is fair, Kelto. You must adapt to anything and everything that your opponent may have in store for you. Focus on the reality of the fight, not temporary diversions.”

The healer crossed his arms, crinkling his snout puckishly. “Even if they’re big, tall, incorrigibly sexy distractions?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Especially then,” Sskeer chuffed, turning. “Now come - back to first position. Now that you’ve got the hang of things, let’s go again.”

“Lose the tunic first, big guy.”

He stopped, turning on his heel. “Exssssscuse me?”

“Hey - you wanted to train me to block out distractions, right?” Kelto strutted to his marker and crouched down into beginning stance, grinning. “So start being distracting already.”

Sskeer smirked. “As you wish,” he said, shrugging out of his top.

Now…

In the heat of the battle, Kelto’s awareness had developed into a kind of double vision - an immediate center of attention where his focus narrowed to encompass the most immediately pressing complication, and a wider, peripheral awareness where the details of his environment and surrounding happenings were sorted into neat piles to be confronted later.

The two men before him leveling carbines in his direction rated his immediate attention. Sskeer was to his right, on the other side of the warehouse; the pirates occupying that half, accordingly, became a secondary concern. The loading crane coming unmoored with an explosion and falling to the floor with a hideous crash was concerning - almost distracting - but ultimately of no consequence; he could safely ignore it, as it had landed on no one and nothing important.

The pirates in front of him didn’t realize this, and flinched, looking back over their shoulders. He seized the opportunity and sliced the barrels off their weapons before throwing them back against a cargo pod with a gesture, where they passed into unconsciousness and out of the fight. One of them had managed to pull the trigger before his saber ruined his gun; the bolt blazed a trail past his temple and nearly singed off his topknot, but aside from some lingering heat on the side of his face, he was otherwise okay.

Sidestepping to the right, Kelto next leapt the vertical meters up to the gantryway above, cresting the railing with a kick that caught a waiting sniper in the jaw and sent him sprawling over the side. The thump that he made when he hit the floor was a curiosity; equally unimportant, in the scheme of things, as the fallen loading arm. He duly discarded the thought.

Men shooting at him on his side of the catwalks? Immediate threat - he deflected their shots back at them in turn. Sskeer joining him on the upper level, opposite side, similarly engaged, carving through the opposition with his usual intensity? Important situational note - make an effort to link up as soon as possible.

A heavy repeater being wheeled out on a repulsorpad from behind a heavy warehouse door on their level?

Well, details like that tended to... confuse his ordering system, just a little.

“SSKEER!”, he shouted, pirouetting back towards a tall, thick support column. “E-WEB! E-WEB!”

Glancing, Sskeer saw - and jumped out of the line of fire just before the blaster cannon opened up. The warehouse rang from floor to ceiling with the staccato drone of its report as the dreadful weapon poured its destructive firepower into the Trandoshan’s general location; it pounded Kelto’s ears as he watched, heart in his throat, as Sskeer scrambled for cover.

The cannon’s operator must have been a genius among smugglers, for instead of trying to perforate a target that moved faster than he could aim, he shot the catwalk out from under him. It collapsed with a terrible crash and sent Sskeer spilling down to the floor; he recovered in a rolling crouch as the other gangsters, emboldened, turned all their attention to the fallen Jedi, blasters raised.

His partner was in danger. Intellectually, Kelto knew this should have bothered him. Instead he pushed through the spike of emotion and found his discipline again.

Then he went to work.

Darting out from behind the pillar, he sprinted at full tilt past one - two - three snipers on the catwalks, slashing each of them in passing. The cannon operator, he knew, would see him coming - and even now he was orienting the giant gun accordingly. He couldn’t possibly reach the cannon before it found a bead on him - so instead he brought the gun to him.

Kelto skidded to a halt, whipped out a hand, and pulled the mounted cannon towards him; the cannon, a slave to its hoverlift, jerked forward violently, throwing its gunner to the side when he had finished coming along for the ride. Sidestepping the drifting E-Web, Kelto slashed downwards through its barrel in passing, pivoted sharply on his heel, and delivered his booted heel to the pirate’s chin as he attempted to rush him with a vibroknife. The blow knocked him out cold, and Kelto noted with uncharacteristic satisfaction the crack it made when his foot collided with his jaw.

With the gun out of commission, he turned back to the warehouse floor below. He needn’t have worried, he realized; with brutal Trandoshan ferocity, Sskeer had made quick work of the pirates who had made the fatal tactical error of attempting to charge a single lightsaber-wielding opponent. He snarled his way through a final broad slash that sent two more men collapsing to the ground, growling in challenge at any unseen gangsters left bold enough or stupid enough to approach him.

“I got the gun,” Kelto reported, belatedly.

“Very good,” Sskeer called back up. “Lower floor is clear.”

“Was that all of them?”

“I believe so.”

Kelto vaulted the rail and dropped back down to the ground floor, softening his landing with the Force and landing in a crouch. “That’s a pity,” he commented, straightening and padding over to Sskeer. “I was hoping we could resolve this without much loss of life.”

“CSF casualties were low. And we are both still standing.”

“I meant on both sides.”

“Save your pity,” Sskeer sniffed. “If these Outer Rim scum are so low as to murder innocents for smuggled wealth, they deserve just what they got.”

“I suppose,” Kelto shrugged. “But I still feel conflicted.”

“Your compassion does you credit, Kelto. But don’t waste it on those who don’t seek it.”

“I offer it freely. It’s a healer thing.” He reached up to brush the suckers of his fingers against Sskeer’s injured shoulder. “A Jedi thing.”

The Trandoshan grunted, closing his eyes. “I know, I know. My… zeal, sometimes exceeds my beliefs.”

“We’re all the Republic, Sskeer. Even the baddies.”

“Thank you for reminding me.”

Slowly, Sskeer’s fingers reached up to touch Kelto’s where they lingered at his collar, brushing the underside of his cheek.

Then Kelto said, “You don’t think we’re forgetting anything, do you?”

The loadlifter droid crashed through the ceiling, landing on the permacrete with enough force to create a small crater, screeching at them in corrupted Binary.

“Dammit,” Kelto grunted as they ignited their sabers once more. “Dammit dammit dammit.”

“Keep calm. It’s only a droid.”

“I know, I know. Just wishing I hadn’t broken the big gun.”

Then…

Only a few short months of consistent drilling later, and Kelto was already matching Sskeer step for step in the dueling ring. And from the look on his face, he knew it, too.

“Surprised I’m doing so well?” he asked, striking probingly at his opponent’s left and right quarters.

“On the contrary,” Sskeer replied, batting them away. “I couldn’t be prouder. You learn well.”

“I had a good teacher.” Kelto ducked under a first horizontal sweep, and punished the second by needling the point of his lightsaber into the joint of Sskeer’s shoulder; on training setting, it made contact with only an electrical sting. “But not that good, apparently.”

The Trandoshan growled, pacing in a circle and rolling his arm in its socket, working out the pain. “I don’t recognize that move,�� he said wonderingly. “That wasn’t Soresu, was it?”

“I’ve been doing some research in my free time. Been looking into the Persistence Form - Shien. Do you know it?”

“Hm. A more aggressive style than what you’re used to.”

“Certain parts of it, yes, I agree. But you were right - you have to cover a good defense with a good offense. There’s no room for clinging to ideology in a real fight -- ”

Kelto flinched suddenly to the right, provoking Sskeer into following him with his guard - then he juked back the opposite direction, capitalizing on the fake-out by swinging his blade into the underside of his wrists.

“But being able to fight isn’t what defines you,” Kelto finished. “What you fight for does.”

“Yesss,” Sskeer rumbled. “Yes. Exactly what I’ve been trying to show you!”

He threw himself into another series of full-power overheads, and grinned widely as Kelto countered each of them in turn. Under locked blades, the Rodian beamed back at him.

“Though I can’t help but notice that this revelation comes after a steady string of losses,” the Guardian snorted.

“Every failure is an opportunity to learn,” Kelto replied smoothly. “And I’ve learned enough to finally beat you.”

“Then prove it,” Sskeer demanded.

“You know -- I think I will.”

And then it was Kelto who broke the block, with enough force to send Sskeer staggering back a half step; and when Sskeer attempted to counter with an overhead chop, he sidestepped the stroke before it arrived and leapt, corkscrewing up the air and planting himself on Sskeer’s shoulderblades, pushing hard through the balls of his feet. The Trandoshan grunted with the extra weight, wobbling fatefully on his feet before finally tipping and falling face first to the padded floor, saber jarring from his grasp on impact.

One foot on the small of Sskeer’s back and the other on the thick slope of his shoulders, Kelto lowered the edge of his blade to rest against his opponent’s neck. “And done,” he smirked.

From the floor, Sskeer glared - and then began to laugh. A deep, resonant sound, from the pit of his throat. “Well done, little healer. It seems your training is complete.”

“The student becomes the master,” the Rodian preened.

“Indeed. Let me up now, so I can congratulate you properly.”

Extinguishing his blade, Kelto said thoughtfully, “I don’t know - I worked pretty hard for this. Feel like I’ve earned the right to rub it in a little, don’t you?” And so even as he was stepping off of Sskeer’s back, he was plunking himself down to sit upon the curve of the Trandoshan’s spine.

“Urk-!”

“Oh, yes,” Kelto giggled. “That sound just made it all totally worth it.”

Sskeer glared at him warmly as he straightened up onto his elbows. “You are lucky to be pulling this juvenile nonsense on me and not someone like Master Engle.”

“After the protracted thrashing I just took, you’re lucky you’re still with me at all!”

He chuckled at that, softening. “I am, aren’t I.”

“And don’t you forget it, mister.” Kelto tapped the emitter of his lightsaber against his temple to underline the point. Then he stood, and offered his hand. “C’mon, up and at ‘em. Let’s go again.”

The disparity in their sizes and masses meant that Sskeer ended up doing most of the work of standing up. “Again? I thought your training was through.”

“My training. Now I help you work on your defense.”

“Ah, of course. How unexpectedly generous of you, ‘Master’ Lem.”

“Not generous at all. I plan on giving as good as I got.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

Smiling at each other, they folded their arms and bowed.

“Now look - it’s not so much about where you put your blade as where you put your feet, see? Watch…”

Now…

The loadlifter must have attempted to break through the police line; it was the only way to explain the amount of carbon scoring pitting its chassis. But the CSF’s sidearms had clearly failed to stop the berserk droid; if anything, they had only made it angrier.

The Jedi had two things working in their favor. First, the machine’s primary offensive implement, its two massive lifting arms, made its attack pattern slow & easy to predict; second, its sheer mass made it difficult for the droid to attack them with any kind of subtlety or dexterity. This meant much of the incoming danger would be coming from wide sweep attacks, and easily dodged. This was about where their list of advantages ended.

The droid, meanwhile, had been fitted by its criminal masters with heavy hydraulic legs and a microscopically thin layered shell of energy-resistant material - neuranium, perhaps, skimmed from shipments bound for projects related to the Republic’s Great Works initiative? Kelto wasn’t sure, and frankly, right now he didn’t care. Either way it meant their lightsabers weren’t easily cutting through its hide, and it had the speed to match and catch their every maneuver. It was a heavy bruiser, and no mistake.

If this was what they’d managed to cook up right under their noses on Coruscant, imagine what they were up to beyond the frontier?

The machine screeched and rushed them yet again, blitzing across the warehouse at a blistering pace in an attempt to pancake them against the wall. With scant seconds to spare they threw themselves in opposite directions, Kelto landing in a roll and turning sharply; the machine, split between two targets, chose to pursue Sskeer.

It shattered the ground around it with its huge fists, apelike bashing aimed at squashing the Trandoshan into the floor. Sskeer moved with a deftness that belied his own size; his feet carried him out of or around the rapidly-shifting crush zone with supreme economy of motion and exertion, and above them, his body shifted minutely to maximize his effective positioning. His arms, meanwhile, slashed and jabbed at the droid’s reinforced chassis with his lightsaber, creating trails of shallow gouges in the metal where his blade had passed.

Watching from the sidelines, Kelto almost wanted to cheer him on. Then the droid caught Sskeer in the gut with a side-swipe and sent him flying into the far wall.

His focus remained on Sskeer, sitting in his own impact crater, long enough to see his chest heave; he was badly shaken, possibly stunned, but still alive. Then his attention shifted back to the droid, which had taken its first step towards finishing the job.

The cowling around its shoulder joint had come loose. Not by much - but perhaps just enough.

Kelto charged. Sliding under a wild reactive swipe, he rolled to his feet and thrust the tip of his saber upwards, straight into the chink in the droid’s armor. In attempting to pull away, the droid inadvertently drew the unprotected coupling which lay beneath its shell across the edge of the energy blade, and the limb fell away lifelessly. It screamed in Binary, orienting to smash the offending Jedi with its other arm, but Kelto jump-flipped up and over its shoulder, shearing away the linkages connecting its armored collar to its vulnerable neck.

“Sskeer!”, he cried, landing as the armor segments clattered to the floor. “Now!”

The loadlifter reared back for one last overhead smash. It never got the chance to deliver the blow. Behind it, Sskeer bounded across the floor and sprang into a corkscrewing leap which carried his blade into position to strike the droid’s head from its shoulders. He executed the wayward machine with a roar.

The head landed with a dull clang and a dwindling electric whine; the rest of the body shuddered and ground to a complete halt, like a grotesque junkyard statue. The same could not be said for Sskeer, who came down heavily to his hands and knees upon returning to earth.

“Sskeer!” Kelto rushed to catch him, dropping his lightsaber and pushing him back up straight by his shoulders. “Are you alright?!”

“Y-yes,” Sskeer hissed. He clutched his head in one clawed hand and screwed his eyes shut, still sitting on his haunches. “I’m alright, it’s only -- nng-- a concussion, perhaps.”

“Sure you don’t want that stim now?”

“I’ve… reconsidered.”

Obligingly, Kelto injected him with an ampoule of kolto - and one more for good measure. Soon enough, Sskeer could see clearly again, though the ringing pain in his head still remained. The blaster wound, though, had almost completely closed over.

“Nice footwork back there,” Kelto murmured with a smile, massaging his uninjured shoulder. “Good placement, good tempo - ever consider taking up tap dancing? You’ve sure got the rhythm for it.”

“They don’t make patent synthleather in Trandoshan sizes.”

“Hey, you gotta have something to fall back on in case this Jedi thing falls through.”

Wearily, Sskeer met his eyes, grumbling in his throat. “Always the joker,” he said, tipping the underside of the Rodian’s jaw with his knuckle. Then he stood, groaning. “We should inform the police the situation is contained.”

Kelto tucked himself under his arm, half-carrying his weight across his shoulders - well, more like quarter-carrying. “Not bad for my first big patrol, huh?”

“You were more than capable. In some places, you surpassed even myself.” Sskeer slid his hand back to rest on the closer of Kelto’s shoulders. “As I said you would, if you trusted yourself to.”

“Ah, you’re just saying that.”

Sskeer stopped him in his tracks so he’d know he was being serious. “You would have made a fine Jedi Guardian, Kelto Lem. And should you ever desire such a path, I would be honored to walk it with you.”

He stared up at him, bug-eyed. “You… really mean that?”, he asked quietly.

Sskeer shrugged. “Consider it something to fall back on, in case being a healer doesn’t work out.”

“And I thought I was the joker around here,” Kelto snorted, as they left the ruined warehouse behind.

#StarWarsOCShipWeek2021 #star wars #high republic #sskeer #original character #oc x canon #fanfic

3 notes · View notes

spookyc · 4 years ago

Note

hi!! if you feel like it, could you talk more about angie’s relationships with tenko and kiyo? i’m super invested in this main trio now hahah

Hello! Sorry for the late response but yeah I'd love to talk more about Angie's relationship with the group. So, in chapter 1 and most of 2, Angie is just kinda off doing her own thing as Angie does, she's social with the others but not enough to be close with any of them, which has a lot to do with her real ultimate talent. I'd also say that in this au, a lot of her attitude is more put on than in the canon, not to say that she isn't an energetic free spirit, but here it's more so a coping mechanism to deal with the trauma she's gone through as an assassin. Actually the whole Atua stuff is also more of a coping mechanism than anything in this au and is basically an out for her to not feel guilty for taking people's lives, but I won't get too into that, this post is about Angie's relationships after all, not Angie herself. (Though if that is something you'd like to see feel free to send an ask, probably not immediately though as I'm still working on her backstory).

Anyway, basically the point is that Angie isn't really too familiar with anyone except for Maki since they sorta kinda grew up with each other. And well, it's not really a good kind of familar in the case of Maki. So for chapter 1, Angie just roams around talking to people if she feels like it, but not to the point where she's getting friendly with anyone. After chapter 1 though, Maki starts spreading the "rumors" that Angie is an assassin. Initially, Angie doesn't really mind as she doesn't think anyone will take Maki seriously.

But with the support of Kiibo and Miu, as well as Maki's unrelenting spirit, people start to take her more seriously. It's here that Angie starts to become less sociable, and this is also about the time that Tenko asks Kiyo to quell the rumors. Of course the very next day, the second body is discovered and everyone points towards Angie. She laughs it off publicly, but deep down she doesn't actually know how she'll defend herself. Kiyo and Tenko investigate together and in the trial they defend Angie's title and prove that she wasn't the killer.

Angie breathes a sigh of relief, grateful she got out of this unscathed, until Maki proposes that Kiyo prove his claim. With pressure from the students he relents and the students find out that Angie is an assassin. This results in an uproar, which Angie escapes from thanks to the chaos, but not before she hears Tenko and Kiyo defending her against the angry mob. It is here that Angie gains a respect for both Kiyo and Tenko, and she wishes to pay them back for defending her during and after the trial. So the next day when Kiyo and Tenko are alone she thanks them for defending her.

She makes a joke about being a bodyguard for them to repay them but Tenko brings up that she was just talking to Kiyo about doing some training every night and that she would be welcome to join if she so wished. Angie agrees and this officially begins the three's relationship. So for Angie and Kiyo's relationship, I would compare it to that of Maki and Shuichi's at least on the very surface level. What I mean is that, Maki and Shuichi think pretty similarly in the canon, they are both pretty logical thinkers for the most part, they're both practical and skeptical and I think that's why they work, because they mesh pretty well. Kiyo and Angie are very similar in this aspect, since they are both logical thinkers as well as skeptics.

However, the fun of their relationship mainly comes from how different their personalities are. Because you have Angie, the free spirit, who's energetic and eccentric and then you have Kiyo, who's withdrawn, calm, closed off and very mellow most of the time. This provides for fun interactions between the two, like I totally imagine that Angie jokes and messes with him all the time and half the time he doesn't get it and the other half of the time he rolls his eyes. In a playful way though, and even if he acts like he's too serious for that kinda stuff, Angie is one of the few people to consistently make him laugh. Angie has fun with it too, she loves getting on his nerves like any good friend does but she finds the most enjoyment out of just making him laugh.

Also due to Kiyo's knack for reading people and his general observant nature, Angie always comes to him for advice for her problems or whenever she needs to articulate her thoughts on something. Kiyo is a great listener and even if he doesn't realize it, he's really good at coming up with solutions to difficult problems, at least ones that have little to do with emotional matters. There's a lot of trust in their relationship, as Kiyo trusts Angie enough to be vulnerable with her and Angie trusts Kiyo enough to share her more personal thoughts with him. Essentially, Angie brings out Kiyo's vulnerable side and Kiyo showcases Angie's logical mind and intellectual side.

As for Tenko and Angie, well, they are one of the two ships in this au. These two being the main one of the two. So, even before Angie starting hanging out with Tenko, she was drawn to her. Not just because she thought Tenko was pretty, but also because she admired her kind heart and warm smile. A part of her wanted to get to know her better then, but she knew she couldn't compromise her identity, so she fought her urges.

But after chapter 2 her identity got thrown out the window so now she had the chance to pursue her heart. It's just too bad that Tenko is a hopeless idiot and can't take a hint. But after chapter 3, Tenko finally recognizes Angie's feelings and she reciprocates them and the two become a couple. They go strong until chapter 5, which unfortunately is when Angie dies. Now, about their relationship itself.

So, I think Tenko and Angie work really well just because of how much they compliment each other. Because when you analyze their characters, you'll realize that they are direct foils of each other. Tenko is completely on the side of faith throughout the game and in both the trials she takes place in, she chooses the side of belief. Angie is the direct opposite, she is instead completely on the side of logic throughout the game and is always on the logic side of the debates throughout the game. So, I think the two would really balance each other out.

Angie could teach Tenko to think things through more critically to avoid hurt feelings and wrong answers and Tenko could teach Angie that sometimes believing in people can be the way to the right answer. And not just that, I also believe their personalities would balance each other out as well. Angie could help Tenko to be more confident about herself and Tenko could see through Angie's act and help her towards learning to just be herself and not have to shield herself behind a fake smile all the time. And these two are about the most lovey-dovey you could get, like they're always getting gifts for each other, they stargaze every couple of nights, Angie loves to cuddle, they give each kisses goodnight every night, shit like that. As for Kiyo he's fully supportive but his aro/ace self just does not get it and he often rolls his eyes at it but he's fine with it as long as they're happy.

But yeah! That's essentially how Angie fits in with these three, love that you guys are getting invested because I've been wanting to infodump about these guys for a while so if yall wanna ask me anything else about my au feel free to do so. Thanks for the ask!

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #talentswap au #angie yonaga #korekiyo shinguji #tenko chabashira #maki harukawa #kiibo #miu iruma #tenko x angie

11 notes · View notes

everydisneymovie · 4 years ago

Text

Review #50: Jungle Cat

Post #55

8/24/2020

Next up is 1960′s Jungle Cat

Enjoyment : [3]

This movie is a lot more watchable than previous True Life Adventures even though it is still gross and violent. While it isn’t very informative it is interesting to see the hidden ecosystems of the amazon up close and personal. For the most part it was very boring and the exciting parts were macabre for all the wrong reasons, but at the very least, this one has scenes that, ya know, build upon one another to actually create a mood? So far none of the other True Life Adventures have even attempted that. They just meander from stock footage A to stock footage B and make up stuff in between.

Quality : [3]

This movie has a few glaring issues. Several of the animal fights take place in a very conspicuous area that was 100% an artificial enclosure. At one point a jaguar chases a boar past a very plastic looking tree, only to run past the exact same tree in the very next shot. A LOT of this movie was manufactured, and because of violent nature of the Jaguar you know a lot of animals died trying to get the perfect shot. One small detail I actually sorta liked, was how they were able to keep focus better than previous installments by staying with one Jaguar family from start to finish, and because their markings were so distinct they couldn’t easily swap them out for look a likes.

Hold up : [3]

For those of you tuned in to our reoccurring segment “Does the Narrator of this True Life Adventure Still Have A Tiny Dick?” I am proud to tell you that the answer is YES. Man this guy has a small dick. He pushes some real rapey vibes onto the male and female Jaguars and it is honestly pathetic. These documentaries try to present the information in a way the average audience member could easily digest, and because it assumes the average audience member is straight, white, cis, and male, it ends up coming across really narrow minded. Also again, they killed a lot of animals to make this movie and that is also not cool.

Risk : [3]

This movie yet agains avoids any useful information beyond surface level observations and no larger discussion about active environmental issues. Because this movie takes place in the amazon, and not in Walt Disney’s back yard I can at least say it wasn’t phoned in, but boy does it still stink of unused B-roll. Documentaries can be powerful narrative tools that both inform and entertain, but this ain’t it chief.

Extra Credit : [1]

I have to give it the customary +1 point for being educational and that’s all.

Final thoughts:

This movie stinks in all the same ways the other True Life Adventures stink. They are unimaginative, they are not terribly informative and they are clearly just narrating over unrelated footage to pad time. I still think this is one of the better examples, since it is an interesting location and there is an effort to bring all the unrelated examples together. It will show how an animal exists in the amazon, and then show how it fails or succeeds to survive when pursued by the Jaguar. I feel like this movie, along with White Wilderness are the best ones to watch if you feel like you want to watch one, although I see no reason to.

Total Score: 13/50

<- First <- Previous 50 out of 431 Next ->

#Jungle Cat #True Life Adventures #Disney #I watched Every Disney Movie #every disney movie #reviewing every Disney movie #movie ranking #movie review #Movie Reviews #Nature documentary #tw: animal abuse #tw: animal death #live action movie #movie theory #Film Theory #Rey Rapids

9 notes · View notes

exhausted-joy · 5 years ago

Text

SUPER RICH KIDS [YANDERE!BTS] [03]

CHAPTER THREE.

SYNOPSIS: Every summer, the super rich (albeit troublesome) kids of South Korea get sent to a three month long correctional camp in the ancient city of Gyeongju. While you aren’t at all a delinquent, your parents decide to send you anyway, claiming you need to ‘get out more’ and 'live a fulfilling life’. Everything is going swell at first–that is, until you accidentally butt your head into something you aren’t supposed to. Things quickly loop into a downward spiral and instead of choosing the right answers on a mock exam, you find yourself bouncing between life and death. Is this what happens when you leave the safety of your bedroom? It doesn’t take long for you to realize that you never should have left.

Want to be the first to know when I update? Add yourself to the tag list!

❞ super rich kids with nothing but loose ends ❞

"If you came here to make friends, then you will be thoroughly disappointed. Friends are a liability and only serve as an obstacle on the path to self-improvement, and your parents didn't waste all this money on you to go back home even more useless than when you arrived here. We strive for perfection and if you can't make the cut, then we won't feel bad weeding out the weaklings when you don't. But we'll make sure you do - it's guaranteed, after all."

That was what the founder of the Gyeongju Correctional Summer Camp herself told you and, well, everyone else when she stepped out from a balcony on the highest level of the facility when everyone was rounded up into their nice neat lines. She was dressed in all-white from head to toe and wore her hair in a regal updo that showed off her pale skin and sharp features. The aura that surrounded her suggested that she was indeed a powerful and influential figure in the facility, and the fact that she didn't even bother to speak to the masses at eye level made her seem all the more stuck-up and antagonistic.

It wasn't until her little PSA was over that the real fun began. The uniformed guards that stood in front of each line began to hand out schedules and dorm room numbers, all contained in a thick, laminated booklet (a lot like a passport). Yours had every single kind of identification that was related to you on it - including things that even you didn't know like your blood type, social security number, and a multitude of insurances you didn't know were plausible. There was also a barcode, which was to be used on the scanners for entering your room and any other recreational or educational area open to the students.

And speaking of dorm rooms, you are very uncomfortable in your own right now. Awkwardness stagnates the air in the room and tension hangs heavy as you and your roomate unpack your belongings. Your roommate is a pretty girl with short brown hair styled into a cute bob with choppy bangs that hang over her dark eyes. You learn that her name is Han Soha and she's a year younger than you at fourteen. And to no surprise, she's just as awkward as you - if not more - and her aloofness makes you feel insecure, as if she's silently judging you from afar.

You drop your phone onto the white comforter of your bed and sigh, relieved that it isn't sticking to your skin anymore. You will be forever thankful to Jimin because now you were able to use your phone, even though you technically weren't supposed to have it. Turns out they were confiscating phones and electronic devices at the entrance, and the outraged reaction from some ended up with them getting dragged away, probably never to be seen again. You were practically dripping with sweat when a guard had asked you if you had any electronics devices to hand over, and you almost collapsed when he told you step into a body scanner. Thank goodness you had decided wear a padded bra.

Shuddering, you imagined yourself getting dragged away like those boys, and your curiosity wanders to where they may have brought them to - though, you aren't quite sure you want to find out. However, you do want to see Jimin again, so maybe you might have to play detective to find any answers. You hope he isn't hurt or anything; you mean, how will you get your answers if he's become a cripple? From the way that guard had violently pulled at Jimin's arm, you wouldn't be surprised if he was in a cast the next time you see him.

Shaking those thoughts away, you fold your last t-shirt and neatly tuck it into its designated drawer before plopping down on your bed and occupying yourself with your phone. Soha finishes unpacking just a little while after you do, though most of her belongings just litter the floor haphazardly. She lays down on her bed with a loud huff and pulls her phone out from her pants pocket, instantly tapping away. The electronic clicks of her keyboard is the only sound that fills the silence, along with the occasional hum of the air conditioner kicking in. You glance at her once in a while, but her eyes seem to never leave her phone screen - not even when the huge metal wheel on the door begins to spin and the loud buzz of the scanner that pierces through it.

You quickly hide your phone beneath the sheets when the heavy door creaks inwards, the hinges squeaking with effort. A woman in uniform appears in the threshold, a hardened look on her face as she observes you and Soha, who has magically made her phone disappear in record time.

"Lunch time. Report to the canteen." The woman's clipped reply catches you off guard and you look to Soha, who seems unbothered and leisurely gets up to slip some shoes on. You follow her lead with a bit of hesitance, your muscles tense with discomfort as the guard's eyes scrutinize you with an unrelenting intensity. You shakily slide on some appropriate footwear and follow Soha out the door, the guard's gaze zeroed in on your form without a moment's wavering.

She leads the two of you out of your room, and you jump in fright when the woman's hand grasps your shoulder in an iron grip. Soha's eyelids droop with boredom as she completely disregards the grip the woman handles her with, while you almost have to suppress the urge to pull away and make a break for it.

You don't want to, but you can't help but notice how impeccably uniform everything is as you walk down the hallway. From the squeaky clean white marble of the floor, to the barren white walls lined with titanium, prison-like cell doors on each side, the feeling of confinement really beings to set in.

Everything passes by in a blur due to the pace the woman is dragging you at, and you don't have much time to let things soak in. The corridor stretches quite a length before you reach the end, which leads the three of you to an exit and then outside to a covered bridge with rails and window panes on each side, giving you a view of the large campus. Your room was located on the third floor of the girls' dormitory, which were apparently nicer since the rooms were recently remodeled and had less wear than the rooms on the first and second floor.

At the end of the walkway, you can make out a sign above two double doors that says 'cafeteria' in large, blocky text. You already hear the loud chatter of the other kids even through the closed doors and you suddenly begin to feel sick. Your anxiety takes over and the lonely elementary student in you begins to surface from the dark depths of your memories; where will you sit? Who will you sit by? You weren't used to not being constantly swarmed by people who found you interesting or wanted something from you because you had money. Since everyone else here is probably richer than you, you can't help but feel...normal, in a strange way. Like you belonged, somehow.

It's a feeling you didn't seem to mind, though.

The guard pushes open one of the double doors to reveal a sight to behold. A huge lounge-like lunch room filled to the brim with teens of all ages, all talking loudly and enjoying their meticulously arranged lunches. For a moment, it looked like a regular school cafeteria, and you almost thought that you were back at your own high school and ready to chow down with your less than real friends. That is, until you spot a section of the lunchroom that had been isolated with glass panels and house those same boys who had been dragged away from earlier. It reminds you that this is no ordinary lunchroom and thinking so might get you in trouble; you are new here and this is unknown territory.

The boys seem to be having lunch, but no one is talking as far as you can tell - you can only imagine the weight of the tension in that room, each 'gang' member all harboring some kind of ill intention towards one another. In fact, each one of them seem to be brooding and glaring at each other, ready to go for each other's necks if not for the guards watching their every move.

Before you are able to see if Jimin is in there, your own hovering demon whisks you away and towards the daunting lunch line. Relief floods every inch of your body when the woman releases her hold on you and Soha - it almost feels like you can finally breathe normally. She gives you one last glare before leaving you and Soha to go stand by one of the exits, the shadow of her hat hiding her face from view.

You turn to Soha, ready to offer her your word of complaint about how rude the woman was, but she shuts you down before you are even able open your mouth. What she says next almost shocks you into another century - admittedly, not something that you wouldn't have minded at the moment.

"Listen, I know you're new here and all, but I'm not looking to be your friend. Especially after what happened in the parking lot," she pauses and leans in closer, furrowing her eyebrows as her brown eyes darken. "So do me a favor and act like we don't know each other, okay?"

You flinch back in shock, a hurt look flashing across your face. Soha returns to looking normal, the same deadpan expression on her face from before settling seamlessly over her features. To say the least, you are quite offended at her drastic change in attitude compared to the way she had acted in your shared dorm room. While she wasn't exactly friendly and talkative, she didn't act as cold and hateful as she had just now. You stand frozen for a second, mouth agape and ready to retaliate before you shake your head and turn around to close the gap with the person in front of you.

Despite what the younger girl had spat at you, you couldn't be surprised. It's not like you could blame her - what had happened in the parking lot was freaky, and you were the main attraction. It was fine for people to avoid you as if you had hands for ears—it's not like you were interested in talking to anyone anyways! You would be fine on your own and things will get better when you find Jimin. Right..?

You awkwardly shift your weight from side to side as you wait in line for your meal, Soha's words still ringing through your mind. The smell of the food wafts throughout the lunch room, filling the air with the pleasant aroma of cheap meats and sauces, which would have sounded appetizing any other day and in any other place. Right now though, you weren't really feeling up to eating anything.

Luckily, you didn't have to wait long until you reached the serving counter as the line had shuffled along rather quickly. You weren't particularity used to eating school lunch, so you grabbed a tray, some silverware, and a couple of empty bowls before setting it down on the metal surface of the counter and hoping it was good enough. The people serving the food were dressed in extremely pristine, white clothing with plastic gloves and hairnets for, what you presume, food safety regulations. You realize that you don't really get a choice in what you want to eat as you see the person in front of you get a hefty helping of some kind of chunky, brown sewage (which also could have been some sort of beef stew, but you honestly couldn't tell the difference).

Sliding your tray along, the bowls that sat on it were gradually filled with different dishes, all of which didn't look very edible in your opinion. It's almost worse than the food at your own school, and your school's food was pretty bad considering the amount of money getting poured into it. You suddenly crash into the person in front of you, not even noticing that they had come to a stop, and you quickly mutter an apology when you recover from the contact. Furrowing your eyebrows, you hear a loud, obnoxious laugh from somewhere further down the line, and you peek over the person's larger frame to see what the commotion is.

A girl at the front of the line giggles at something one of the food servers says, a flirtatious smile stretched across her face as she nods her head vigorously to something he's saying. Observing the server, you notice that he doesn't have a face mask on like some of the other workers and is particularly handsome from where you stand. He's tall with a strong stature, broad shoulders, and clear skin coupled with warm, brown eyes. He gently smiles at the girl as he sets a plate of tiramisu onto her tray and, if reality weren't plausible, you'd probably be able to see the hearts appear in her eyes.

"Hey, what's the hold up?!" Some kids from the back of the line begin to voice their complaints, their feet tapping impatiently against the ground as they glare at the pretty boy flirting from behind the counter. She whips her head around to shoot them a sharp glare, her eyes glinting dangerously, which instantly shuts them up as if she had some sort of superiority over them.

Eventually, after another few long moments, the girl and the food server wrap up their flirting session, and the line moves along normally once again. The person in front of you is grumbling incoherently beneath their breath, their shoulders trembling with what you felt was some sort of brewing madness. You lag behind a bit, somewhat cautious that even being too close might set them off. Your plates continue to fill up with various half-edible looking dishes until you reach the end where dessert is being handed out. Sliding your tray along the last inches of metal, you reach for a plate of tiramisu. Except instead of making contact with the cool glass of the plate, your hand is engulfed by one much larger and warmer. You quickly retract your hand as if you had been burned, and look up to apologize to whoever's hand yours had touched.

And, of course, it's that handsome boy with the charming smile.

"Sorry but that one's been sitting out for a while. Take this one, dear," The pet name rolls smoothly, naturally, off his tongue, and you fight to keep the blush from arising. He bends over to slide another freshly made slice of tiramisu on your tray, shooting you a sly wink as he does so. You quietly thank him and quickly turn around to make your escape; away from him and the table of girls who glare at you hatefully from across the lunch room.

You look around for the nearest exit, hoping to find some sort of outside courtyard to eat in. Truthfully, you just wanted to get away from the bustle of people for a while, and it was the perfect time to be antisocial. You didn't want to be bothered at the moment and you were certain no one was planning on doing so based on what had happened in the parking lot and, more recently, with Soha. You firmly believe that you deserve some alone time - you won't be able to get that once you get back to your room, and you know it.

Your eagerly scouring eyes notice two large doors on the other side of the lunch room with a sign labeled 'courtyard' in an unmissable, clunky font. Feeling like you have hit the jackpot, you quickly begin to make your way over, making sure to stick to the walls to avoid any unnecessary staring. You feel as though every person you pass glances at you with an air of recognition before they begin to fiercely glare for a few seconds.

Hoping it's only your overactive imagination, you pick up the pace to a brisk walk before finally reaching your safe haven and pushing the doors open to reveal a large plot of grass dotted with clusters of trees.

On the right side, you are greeted with the sight of tables in the shade while on the left side is a multi-purpose ball court where a group of boys are playing a game of basketball. Slightly intrigued, you choose an empty table closest to the court to get a better view of the game while you uninterestedly pick and prod at your farmyard lunch.

You notice some of the boys have white bandanas tied around their necks. It's strange; you wonder why they aren't caged up with the other boys or being cautiously monitored like serial killers in padded rooms. Most of them seem to be a bit on the younger side, maybe around the ages of twelve or thirteen. You recognize a couple boys who are older, one with stark black hair and opaque blue ey—

CRASH!

As if in slow motion, you watch your whole lunch go flying halfway across the courtyard, chunks of beef stew and pickled radish soaring through the air like birds in the sky. Not long after, you see the carefully crafted plate of tiramisu topple over on its side, watching as its cold, gooey contents seep through the holes in the picnic table and pool conveniently into your lap like some sort of safety net. The basketball lands underneath the table, bounces from the impact for a few seconds before rolling down to bump into your foot, ceasing its motion.

...It's silent.

Everyone in the courtyard is staring at you. The group of girls who sit at another table stare pitifully, while another clique is holding in their mocking laughter. You want to scream. You want to just lie down in a ditch and just cry yourself a river. In fact, you can feel the breakdown welling up as you hang your head, catching sight of your food stained clothing through the unshed tears of shame. You don't even comprehend the shadow that engulfs your shuddering figure or the comforting touch that tenderly rubs your back as you hold in your angst.

"Shh, it's alright, *милая. It's okay, I'm here." The familiar voice draws your attention and you look up, only to come face to face with those same blue eyes that made everyone avoid you like the plague. You furrow your eyebrows and narrow your eyes resentfully, watching as he slowly sinks down on the bench next to you. The boy observes your ruined clothing for a moment with a thoughtful look before rolling the basketball from under the table the chucking it to his boys who all stand lost in the middle of the court.

"What're you lookin' at?!" He barks aggressively out into the open air, pure dominance radiating off of him in what seems to be waves. Quickly, everyone returns to normalcy, the game back in action as if nothing had happened. You watch the boy grab your wrist and then pull you to your feet, gently wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

You snatch your wrist away and recoil from his touch, still training your narrowed eyes at him in caution. He merely chuckles at your actions. "Come. Follow me." He gestures, a small smile adorning his lips which reveal a charming set of dimples carved in his amply chiseled cheeks. You feel conflicted, but all you want right now is to just get away. Internally shrugging, you decide that nothing can make this day worse than it already is, and you grab his outstretched hand to allow him to guide you to wherever.

You get a weird feeling about the boy. You get a weird feeling from the other kids, the guards, and practically everyone else in the facility, too. But you brush it all off, ignoring the deep sinking in your stomach that effectively riddles your mind with anxiety. Whatever was wrong with this place couldn't be kept secret forever. You assure yourself you'd find out sooner or later. Hopefully before it's too late.

But for now, you allow yourself to be dragged along, the food on your clothing now drying into a crust, and the tears in your eyes still threatening to spill.

You hope, with all your heart, that the three months go by very, very quickly.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

THOUGH, through your turmoil, you fail to spot Jimin's worried gaze, which watches with sorrow from the window in the max security lunch lounge as you are whisked away by the enemy. He knocks his knee with his leader's, grabbing his attention and jerking his head in the direction of the window.

The sight makes Jimin's superior's blood bubble with rage and envy. Usually a move was never made this quickly. So it's begun.

"You got a plan, JK?"

JK tilts his head, dark hair shifting to obscure a brown eye from view. An unnoticeable smirk appears on his otherwise emotionless face as he watches the two frolic through the courtyard and disappear behind a building on the other side. He doesn't answer the inquiry.

Instead, his smirk only grows wider and that, in itself, was answer enough for Jimin.

*милая = Russian word commonly translated to 'sweetheart'.

| PREVIOUS | NEXT |

MASTERLIST

#yandere x reader #yandere bts #yandere jimin #yandere taehyung #yandere suga #reader #bts #bts jimin #bts suga #anime #yandere bts x reader #bts x reader #bts x you #bangtan x reader

461 notes · View notes

fyeahbatcat · 5 years ago

Note

Just finished Batman: Hush the animated movie. What are your thoughts on it?

Alright, everyone. Here we go:

Batman: Hush Movie Full review

To begin, as I’ve stated here previously, Batman: Hush is a very important story to me. It was the first Batman comic that I ever read many years ago. In the sixteen years since its original publication it has undergone at least nine different editions and is still one of the most recommended and critically praised Batman stories of the modern era. It was the starting point for many people in the Batman fandom, and I still believe that it is the most pinnacle story regarding Batman and Catwoman’s relationship. The fact that it’s still so influential, nearly twenty years later, in indicative of its importance and merit.

When DC Comics announced last summer that they were officially making Hush into an animated movie I was happy, but I cannot say that I was excited. This was due to unrelated factors that were happening simultaneous to its announcement that obliterated my faith in DC Comics as a whole. You can imagine my dismay when I learned that instead of creating a direct adaptation, in the same vein as Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns and Year One, they would be changing the story to fit in with their current New 52 inspired animated universe.

As anyone whose been following me for a while may have observed; I’m highly critical. I can usually find the good and bad in something and when I’m giving my take on things from my perspective it’s pretty fair and balanced. I was fully aware that the Hush movie made changes to the story and knew going in that I would have to temper my expectations, but I still gave it a chance.

Many will say that the film should be viewed on its own merit, and I generally tend to agree. If not held up to the book the movie is watchable and very easy to enjoy. But it’s an adaptation. An adaptation of one of the best and most popular Batman stories of all time. An ambitious and operatic year long event from Jeph Loeb, and one that I personally hold in the highest regards. Completely divorcing the movie from its source material is unfeasible.

With that said; as I review this movie I will be critiquing as loosely inspiredimagination of the Batman: Hush comic, and only making comparisons to demonstrate potential compromises of the story or the characters.

***Obvious spoilers ahead***

THE GOOD AND THE BAD

After many years of begging, pleading, rumors, and teasing the Batman: Hush animated film was finally released during SDCC weekend. The basic plot remained intact: a mysterious new villain named Hush targets Batman’s crime fighting career as well as his personal life, which is further complicated by his burgeoning romance with Catwoman. While making concessions that range from minor to pivotal the movie manages to be different while maintaining a degree of familiarity. All the most iconic scenes are there in one aspect or another, with only one notable exception; the Jason Todd graveyard scene.

There’s not much to say about the general plot. It for the most part, stays true to the essence of the story, while being different in execution. Most changes were traversable, while others were pointless and baffling. The first questionable change occurs early in the movie, when Catwoman delivers the stolen money to Poison Ivy; Ivy kisses Catwoman, which she does not reciprocate. In the original script for the book, I believe, that Ivy did kiss Catwoman, but Jeph Loeb was told by editorial to remove it, because it was “too much.”

It was clear in the comic book that Ivy was using her powers to mind-control Catwoman. In that context kissing her would have made more sense. In the movie the extent of her influence over Catwoman is unclear. It appears that she is blackmailing Catwoman. Catwoman’s coldness and irritation afterwards implies that she has maintained some degree of self-awareness. Her use of coercion rather than force renders the kiss pointless, and its intention to merely be salacious.

Other needless changes involve swapping out characters. Bane, for some reason, has taken the place of Killer Croc. Damian Wayne has taken the place of Tim Drake, and Amanda Waller makes a token appearance, but both proceed to only have one scene.

As Rick Austin from FortressofSolitude put it:

Some changes to the original story are surface-level questionable, making you wonder why they changed them at all – like substituting Killer Croc for Bane, for instance. Presumably it was done for recognition and name value, and barely has any relevance to the story. Huntress is replaced by Batgirl, probably for the similar reasons, but that’s more important and naturally means Oracle’s role in the story is gone. Slowly but surely, the small tweaks begin to have a big knock-on effect. Important lines of dialogue have been jettisoned, some elements have been removed and some characters replace others just to make this fit with other recent DC animated films.

The movie takes a more action/adventure route rather than a character driven mystery, chugging along at breakneck pace making several plot concessions along the way. What it does manage to improve from the book, as far as a Batman and Catwoman shipper can see, is it beefs up Batman and Catwoman’s ill-fated romance, by way of a montage depicting adorable, if at times out-of-character, domesticity that even involves matching his and hers robes. Its inclusion was more fan-servicey than plot driven, but the ship isn’t doing well right now so I’m not about to complain about that.

What I will complain about isn’t what was added to the romance, but what was excluded from it. The film cuts out all the most important scenes that demonstrate why the dynamics of Batman and Catwoman’s relationship works for them. Yes, we get the rooftop kiss that has graced a thousand screensavers and Batman ultimately making the decision to reveal his identity to Catwoman, but everything in service of Catwoman’s perspective are removed entirely.

The scene from the book when Catwoman admonishes Batman for saving her instead of going after the Joker after she is shot at the opera, is changed to Catwoman merely telling Batman to go after Harley Quinn.

If you ever choose to rescue…me again over catching the bad guy…I swear I’ll scratch your eyes out. I’m not some kid you took in and trained.

This scene is important because this is where Catwoman affirms how she sees herself in this relationship: she is Batman’s equal and she expects– demands– that he treat her as such. These changes seem benign at first, until it becomes clear later why they were made. More on that in a bit.

The original script for Hush also included a tasteful post-coital scene that was ultimately cut by editorial. The scene makes its way back into the movie in lieu of some of the more emotionally intimate moments, like Selina dialoguing with Alfred in the bat-cave. The dialogue also fails to compensate for this. Batman and Catwoman’s pillow talk topic include how Batman used to think Catwoman was a kleptomaniac.

“You were beautiful, intelligent, and brilliant,” he tells her. “I assumed if you were stealing it was because you couldn’t control it.” I see this come up in fandom every now and again, and Catwoman cannot be a kleptomaniac because kleptomania is an impulse control disorder. Catwoman steals for profit and executes elaborate premeditated heists. I can see why other people would make that mistake, but the world’s greatest detective should have more cognizance.

Most of the changes to film are surface-level and trivial, but where the movie majorly fails is when they attempt to fix things that weren’t broken to begin with.

The most major change doesn’t occur until the final act of the movie when it is revealed that Hush is actually the Riddler. At first, I thought this was a misdirect, but no. The Riddler is really Hush and Tommy Elliot was just a plot device, and he is really dead. Like in the book, Riddler gained knowledge of Batman’s identity while in the Lazarus Pit, and decides to take revenge by going after Bruce Wayne’s friends and loved ones.

This change is nonsensical and renders Tommy Elliot’s role in the movie essential meaningless. He is a mere plot device, a shamefully underdeveloped plot device, intended to provide Batman with angst. Villains targeting Batman’s loved ones is all too familiar occurrence, but audiences barely get to know Tommy long enough understand the depths of Batman’s grief and mourning.

As I’m sure all of you are aware at this point that in the book it is revealed that Hush is Tommy Elliot. Substituting Tommy for Riddler diminishes the impact of the reveal and Hush’s motivations. Tommy, Bruce’s close childhood friend, has a personal vendetta against Bruce. He uses his friendship, familiarity, and access to Bruce Wayne to attack him both personally and as Batman. It also complicates Batman’s relationship with Hush as a villain. The Riddler being Hush is just a theatrical Gotham villain pretending to be a different theatrical Gotham villain for no reason whatsoever.

Towards the end of the movie Riddler kidnaps Catwoman and tries to kill her in an elaborate trap. Since Bruce was damseled early in the movie, I didn’t so much mind that they did the same to Catwoman. I like that Batman and Catwoman can depend on each other, and it demonstrates a degree of equality in their relationship. However, while Batman was only incidentally damseled for maybe 60 seconds, Catwoman was subtly threatened with rape for intervening on his behalf and later got the full-on woman-tied-to-railroad-tracks-treatment. Predictably Batman shows up and saves the day.

THE UGLY

Batman: Hush made several missteps that I was willing to overlook, and almost got through its entire 82-minute run time before doing the only thing that I considered truly egregious.

After the ensuing fight the building begins to collapse and Catwoman leaves Riddler to die, after Batman attempts to save him. Batman argues that they could’ve saved Riddler instead of letting him die. Catwoman becomes angry. “You’re crazy! You’re absolutely insane,” she exclaims melodramatically. Batman and Catwoman decide that their moral differences are too stark and break up, but leave the door open for the future.

This is where the movie took an unexpected turn for the worse. This is where the reason why so many changes to Catwoman’s character becomes clear.

Batman goes out as the voice of morality and looks like the hero, and Catwoman is completely thrown under the bus to make it happen.

Early in the movie during the famous battle of Metropolis when Superman is under the influence of Poison Ivy, Catwoman throws Lois Lane off a building to snap him out of the spell. Later when Superman is out of earshot Batman tells Catwoman that throwing Lois off the building was not part of the plan and that he did not approve of her methods. In the book it was Batman’s idea to throw Lois from the building. This moment frequently makes appearances on Worst-Things-Batman-Has-Ever-Done lists on comic sites.

During the opera scene Catwoman attempting to stop Batman from killing the Joker in a fit of rage was also cut. Here it was Batman who was acting morally questionable, and Catwoman was the reasonable and morally righteous one, so to speak.

These, along with Catwoman allowing Riddler to die, are intended to make Catwoman seem like she has a cursory attitude towards killing, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. All of this inevitably shifts all the blame for the relationship not working out on Catwoman. Catwoman’s flaws are irreconcilable while Batman is the blameless voice of reason. This is abominable at best, and sexist at worst.

The book ends similarly and yet profoundly different. Upon the announcement of the film some people were hoping for the ending to be changed to something presumably happier for Bruce and Selina. In the book Batman and Catwoman break up, but under much different circumstances.

I personally feel that the ending to the original was appropriate for the story. Batman sabotages their relationship pushes Catwoman away because he realized was not ready for the vulnerability required in that type of relationship, It ends on a bittersweet note. Batman and Catwoman can have a relationship “someday.” All they need is a little more time, and it’s Batman who need to be a little bit different.

Even as things end Loeb simply and perfectly sums up why Batman and Catwoman work:

We are who we are. That’s why this works.

The film makes fundamental differences, that can only be remedied by Catwoman changing herself, are the root of Batman and Catwoman’s relationship dysfunction.

The changes to Catwoman’s character occur only to justify the ending. The filmmakers went to great lengths to villainize Catwoman to make it seem like it was all her personal shortcomings that ended things instead of Batman’s to make him seem more heroic. It relegates Batman and Catwoman’s relationship to a tool to demonstrate Batman’s inflexible moral code.

To add insult to injury, as Batman and Catwoman’s relationship comes to an end, Selina tells Bruce bitterly that she changed herself to be with him and was willing to continue changing. This robs Selina the agency of having reformed on her own, in a film that has already diminished much of her voice and independence.

It’s almost laughable that Selina once told Huntress that reforming was worthwhile, “as long as you’re doing it for yourself, and not for what someone else thinks of you,” in the same book the movie was based on.

Some dude (and it’s a dude; I checked) read the book, saw this panel, then decided to have her say literally the opposite. I wish I was making this up.

On its own the Batman: Hush movie is watchable. The casual viewer and batcat shippers alike can easily find something to enjoy. But watchable is a low bar to pass when based on one of the most popular Batman stories of our era. What should have been an exceptionally easy recipe for success did not exceed the bare minimum. It’s drab, bland, and dark animation style does not hold up to Jim Lee’s iconic penciling or Scott Williams’ colorful fills. The changes to the story are generally acceptable, until the final act of the movie when things go off the rails.

Ultimately the movie exceptionally fails at capturing the dynamics of Batman and Catwoman’s relationship, trading in much of the depth and intimacy for shower sex and pet names. On its own Batman: Hush stands as a mindlessly entertaining adaptation, loosely inspired by a Batman story of mystery and intrigue. Held up to the source material, it’s a pale and grotesque imitation.

#ask #blackbatpurplecat #batcat #Batman #Catwoman #Bruce Wayne #Selina Kyle #personal note #review #long post #batman hush spoilers

124 notes · View notes