#but the perspective of first reigen to him walking and meeting mob where his life turns to colour....

[linktoo]

Refrain Boy (First ED) vs. Cobalt (Last ED) Parallels

[mariproducer]

Talking abt mp100 in relation to mlb

(Spoilers for the first 2 seasons of mp100 under the cut)

Oooookay so last night I finished mp100 and wow was I blown away by how much of a feel-good show it is. It's emphasis on choice, on enjoying life, on being a kid, on having a support system. I cried a few times bc it made me that emotional seeing Mob's journey and how he interacts with the world.

While I really hate having to draw comparisons btwn things (says the guy whos constantly drawing comparisons btwn things), since mlb was the last "new" thing I watched prior to mp100, obviously I had mlb's presentation and execution in mind. And man... watching mp100 really drove home how bad mlb is with representing and showing its ideas.

I already talked abt how the lessons in s4 started caving in on each other bc mlb has no sense of consistency. Contrast that to mp100 where Mob repeatedly tells himself things, like to not harm someone with his powers or that he's just like any other person, doesn't matter if he has psychic powers or not. Ideas that were internalized into him by Reigen, who saw a kid lost in the world and didn't want to see him get eaten alive by its harshness. Mob learns things that stick, that help him thru situations, that he can teach to the ppl he meets. And mlb's lessons? They're usually for Marinette. No other character gets to grow or have their views challenged or get a new perspective; when other characters are given the chance to change, the writing immediately backtracks and keeps them on the same path they were on before. And even Marinette herself isn't immune to having her lessons walked back on.

And then there's that huge emphasis on choice. A lot of things that happen in mp100 are through someone's conscious choice. Whether it's adult espers misusing their powers or Mob using his own powers to protect those he cares for, every single character has the ability to choose for themselves, whether right or wrong. And it really shines thru when former adversaries in mp100 come back to help. Theyre shown that there's another way to live, but they chose for themselves to become better people, to use their powers for good instead of bad. It's not just for fighting either: Reigen tells Mob that it's ok to run away, to give up, he says that it's not Mob's duty to save the day with his powers. Mob still proceeds to do that anyway, but being offered that choice to begin with, to know it's an option... its really powerful. On the other hand, Marinette ... doesn't really have a choice: she's forced to attempt confessions when she's not ready or comfortable or the role of the guardian is forced onto her. The only time Marinette really got to choose was when she decided to become Ladybug once more to save Alya. We don't get to see Marinette feel like she's growing into her role or embracing it or making it her own or just getting the option to choose. The show goes out of its way to push and pull her around, to take away any semblance of choice or agency from her.

Like ugh I'm still just baffled at how ppl say mlb is good or smth or that it's well written because I can't see it at all. Watching mp100, looking back on medias I consumed in the past like haikyuu, it's like. I've seen good shows I've seen well-written shows. They may not be for everyone (e.g. I know haikyuu can be a snooze fest if u can't sit thru sports anime or ur like me and play volleyball lol) but like. There's good media out there that can get ur brain pumping tryna interpret and understand but mlb is just. Not one of those types of medias. It just isn't.

[haruki-ya]

Cruore + Takeo? Oooor aspectabun + Mob? 👀👀

Aspectabund - letting emotion show easily through the face or eyes 

With Mob from the perspective of Ritsu (for Risu:)

Ritsu has heard his nii-san referred to as many things before: boring, expressionless, freakish, emotionless.

It used to make him unbelievably upset to hear people say such things about Shigeo, to talk about a person they didn’t even try seeing past the surface of. It took a lot of self control to keep from acting violently on that anger in order to defend his beloved nii-san, but Ritsu doesn’t get as mad listening to the rude things people have to say about Shigeo now. Both because he knows they’re wrong and they won’t be bad mouthing his nii-san after a friendly float over the edge of the school roof.

There’s nothing inherently violent about that, not even with the unsaid threat of letting them drop hang alongside them lest they say anything cruel about his nii-san again.

While Shigeo may be perceived as boring, is often expressionless and may have at one point been thought freakish by Ritsu himself (only in a weak moment of spiteful jealousy), he is anything but emotionless. It just takes a trained eye to see past his detached feelings, his default apathetic face.

And Ritsu is well versed in the art of Shigeo’s limited emotions, partly because he has a big tell.

When Ritsu walks through the front door of his home straight from the student body meeting, the house is abnormally quiet. He arrived an hour later than usual thanks to Kamuro-san’s particularly combative mood, but there’s usually some kind of activity sparking sounds of life within the house at this time. He pauses for a moment before checking the getabako, closes the door behind him once he identifies the lone pair of sneakers as Shigeo’s.

That explains it. Ritsu almost forgot that it’s Friday evening, which means their parents have already left for their weekly date night. Shouldn’t Shigeo be out with that dumbass Reigen though?

Ritsu kicks off his shoes and places them next to Shigeo’s, starts to pad softly into the kitchen for a glass of water. Stuck to the fridge is a note saying dinner is in the oven for when they get hungry, also a list of chores for himself and Shigeo to complete before their parents get home. Ritsu floats a glass over to the sink as he reads the list, turns on the faucet with a twitch of his finger.

They’re all fairly easy tasks.

Their parents shouldn’t be back until after sunset, so that gives Ritsu plenty of time to grab a snack, finish his homework, and then get started on the chores with Shigeo. Ritsu mulls over this as he turns off the faucet and grabs the cup out of mid air, taking a sip as he turns and starts to head up the stairs. A quick peek into the empty living room before he ascends indicates that Shigeo is up in his room, most likely working on homework himself. His nii-san is so responsible.

Shigeo’s room is the first door on the left, neighbored with Ritsu’s own but parallel to the upstairs bathroom. Ritsu shifts his school bag on his shoulder before knocking, slightly discouraged when after a moment he doesn’t hear a call to enter. He does regardless.

Shigeo is sitting quietly at his desk, hands flat against the surface, staring blankly at a piece of paper between his spread hands. He’s changed out of his school uniform into sweats and a plain white t-shirt, but doesn’t look comfortable by any means. His shoulders aren’t quite tense, but something about Shigeo’s posture seems…stiff. He almost looks like a statue.

“Nii-san?” He calls, but Shigeo doesn’t outwardly react aside from turning his head just slightly towards Ritsu’s voice. He takes a step inside of Shigeo’s room and feels with the tendrils of his psychic aura, an almost natural extension of himself now, a prickling sensation, like pressing his hand just barely against the quills of a cactus: there’s pressure, faint, acting almost like a warning. It sparks immediate hesitation within Ritsu’s gut.

“Hello Ritsu.” Shigeo’s voice sounds like it always does, flat and quiet with just enough inflection to come off as polite. Disinterested, but polite. Ritsu takes another step closer and Shigeo turns towards him fully. He has that blank expression of neutrality on his face and were it anyone else, they wouldn’t see anything wrong.

But Shigeo’s eyes have always given him away.

For as long as Ritsu can remember, his nii-san has always felt in extremes, both good and bad. It wasn’t up until a certain point with his psychic powers that it became clear, whether feeling good or bad, the outcome is often the same: a telekinetic explosion, a cathartic release of pent up aggressions and intentions and feelings. Just like that time with the bullies when they were younger.

Those are all things that Shigeo now keeps more carefully under lock and key, all things Shigeo exercises great control in suppressing.

Shigeo’s eyes, however, have never held the same restraint.

Ritsu notices, right off the bat, the gloss that covers his nii-san’s eyes, the far away look, the million mile stare that sees right through him. It’s a look he’s seen plenty of times, right before an explosion.

Controlling emotions requires a constant awareness of mind and body in order to shut them down before they can fully surface, something Ritsu has a bit of experience with himself. It’s an easy enough feat for him because he’s generally limited to feeling disdain and annoyance. But for Shigeo, whose emotions are borderline explosive, elevated and heightened beyond the normal spectrum of human feeling, it requires much more focus.

He can’t seem to equally balance his autonomic and social awareness and is often thought to be in his own world because of it, so focused on the mechanisms of building and holding walls within his own mind that he’s not fully present. It doesn’t make Shigeo any of the things people like to call him, it just distracts him from the subtle nuances of everyday life unfolding around him. It makes him oblivious to the atmosphere because his awareness is largely turned inwards.

And that blank look in Shigeo’s eyes means he’s aware of an inner emotion that is trying very hard to surface.

“Nii-san, is everything okay?” Ritsu tries to keep his voice level, to act casual with his question. He doesn’t want to bother Shigeo unnecessarily, but maybe he can be talked down from this volatile place he seems to be on the edge of.

Shigeo blinks at him, an empty gesture, and turns away to face his desk again. Ritsu’s attention too is drawn to the desk, or namely the slip of paper that lies on it, where he sees what looks like a wanted poster searching for one roughly characterized  “Psycho Helmet”. Ritsu doesn’t understand how or why that is relevant to his nii-san’s current emotional state, but if the way Shigeo’s blank gaze seems fixated on it, it must be somehow.

“Ah, everything is fine Ritsu.” Shigeo doesn’t offer any more explanation, sounds nonplussed by both the question and his own answer. But Ritsu, not normally being one to pry, just can’t leave it at that.

“Are you sure? Is there anything you’d like to…talk about?” The words don’t leave Ritsu’s mouth easily, come out stilted and awkward. He normally doesn’t do this type of thing with Shigeo and clears his throat immediately afterwards, trying to distract from the stiffness of his tone. Shigeo doesn’t seem to notice or really even hear his words.

“No.” Is simply what he says in response and Ritsu deflates a bit. He could try again to prompt a conversation, ask Shigeo if he saw the note mom and dad left, inquire about why he’s not at Spirits and Such Consultation or with the Body Improvement Club. But Ritsu…doesn’t want to be shut down again. Doesn’t want to be shut out.

Ritsu can clearly see something is bothering Shigeo but as much as he tries, if Shigeo doesn’t want to talk, he won’t talk. It’s not stubbornness so much as it is Shigeo-ness, the characteristic detached and reserved nature of his nii-san that Ritsu has both envied and admired. It’s nearly impenetrable, save for the transparency of his eyes, so Ritsu sighs in resignation and nods his head, turns to leave Shigeo’s room and let his brother have his silence. Even though some part of him wishes to stay and offer comfort, or maybe just a simple distraction.

“Alright, nii-san. Let me know when you get hungry, I can prepare dinner.” Shigeo makes a noise of affirmation, a quiet hum in the back of his throat, and that’s it.

Ritsu softly closes the door behind him and moves down the hall to his bedroom. He enters, sets his cup of water down on his desk and stands idly in the middle of his room for a moment. There’s still a remnant of psychic pressure leaking from Shigeo’s vicinity, running along his skin like static. Ritsu tries to push it out of his mind, to stop feeling it pricking along his skin but he just can’t shake the knowledge that something is bothering his nii-san and therefore, bothering him.

Ritsu drops his school bag unceremoniously on his folded futon and starts to strip out of his school uniform, changes into lounge wear stiffly all the while trying to shake off that distinct sensation curling persistently around his awareness: it’s almost like it’s asking for his attention, for his help…

Ritsu ignores it, or tries to, because if Shigeo needed to talk he would talk. If Shigeo needed help, he would ask. So Ritsu tries to ignore it, in favor of digging out his pile of schoolwork for the weekend, tries to ignore it while distractedly reading calculus equations again and again, tries to ignore it as the numbers bounce around uselessly inside of his skull, tries to ignore it…for all of five more minutes before he makes a spontaneous decision and gets up, grabs his DS and a game cartridge and make his way downstairs.

Homework be damned, who is he kidding? Ritsu knows his nii-san better than that. The look in his eyes said more than Shigeo needed to and quite frankly, ever freely would. It may not be his job to help, but it is his obligation as younger brother to at least try.

And Ritsu has a pretty good idea of where to start.

Once he gets to the kitchen, he roots through the pantry looking for the second batch of Matcha cookies their mom made a day ago. A family favorite. Ritsu uses his powers to grab two glasses and the carton of milk from the fridge at the same time. He doesn’t even bother filling them, just grabs the tupperware container of checkerboard cookies once he finds them and marches back up stairs, two cups and a milk carton trailing idly behind him. Purposeful intent sets his shoulders straight.

Ritsu doesn’t bother knocking this time, just opens the door and enters, isn’t surprised to find Shigeo sitting in the exact same position as before. Shigeo, however, seems surprised to see him. He actually turns when Ritsu enters, follows him with his empty eyes as he moves across the room and settles himself down on Shigeo’s futon, completely and wholly uninvited. He makes himself comfortable in the corner so there’s enough room for Shigeo to join him and watch him play mindless video games like his nii-san has always enjoyed. Like he used to do when they were younger.

“Ritsu?” Shigeo’s tone is still neutral, still devoid of any real emotion, but it’s something. He has his nii-san’s attention.

Ritsu doesn’t say anything in reply, doesn’t really know what to say or how to explain his sudden intrusion, so he just pats the space next to him and starts up his DS. The cups and milk carton are still floating by his head but he sets the Matcha cookies down by his knee, within easy reach of Shigeo were he to join him.

Ritsu hopes that he will.

And he does, not even a minute later.

Without another word, Shigeo settles gingerly on his futon next to Ritsu. Shoulder to shoulder, they sit quietly together and immerse themselves in the serene world of Animal Crossing, the only sound that fills the silence that of the games soundtrack. As Ritsu aimlessly wanders around talking to villagers and shaking trees Shigeo reaches up to pour himself a glass of milk, his favorite drink. A treat that he can never deny. He mutely offers Ritsu a cup, which he shakes his head no to, but he accepts the offered cookie instead.

Ritsu and Shigeo sit and play Animal Crossing and eat cookies and milk for the majority of the evening. Gradually, the residual psychic pressure from Shigeo’s unidentified emotion weakens and with a glance his direction, Ritsu sees his nii-san’s eyes grow a little less empty. Feels his posture become a little less…stiff. Feels an inexplicable, intangible sense of calmness and contentedness grow between them.

Their parents get home hours later and find them much in the same position they started out in, shoulder to shoulder on Shigeo’s futon with the DS held between them, but the carton of milk is empty and so is the tupperware of cookies. They get scolded for spoiling their dinner and neglecting their chores, but Ritsu and Shigeo take it in stride. Manage a small laugh behind their parents backs when they leave to go, presumably, get started on the chores themselves.

Ritsu suggests they go help after another minute of chasing butterflies and Shigeo nods easily in agreement. His tone has remained mostly bored, his face mostly expressionless, his knack for pointing out trees that have Perfect Fruit mostly freakish, but his eyes have become far from emotionless. Ritsu detects a hint of a smile in them, just a small spark of light as they descend the stairs to help their parents take out the recycling and trash. It really is a suitable look for his nii-san.

Ritsu’s just happy that he can see it.