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ryo-maybe · 2 years

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>thinking csm is disappointing in animation

In the interest of fairness I will preface this by saying that I am not actively following the CSM anime and all my knowledge of it comes from various snippets, be they clips, OP/EDs etc, so you are free (and would, frankly, be justified in doing so) disregard everything that follows.

With that out of the way, a clarification is in order, especially since in the tags of that post I made mention of two other anime adaptions - those of Dorohedoro and Kengan Asura - that couldn't possibly appear less comparable to CSM's, of all things.

Let's talk about art. If we wanted to give the purest technical definition of art, the barest of bones in terms of explaining what art is (as far as I can articulate and conceive it, anyway), it would be the conveyance of something through a medium (or multiple combined, but let's not trip ourselves in a messy pile of specifics and forget we're tl'ing the shit of a ;tr). A message, a raw emotion, an unspeakable something, translated into a form perceivable by others through their senses. The medium is the key here: it is the mold that shapes the message, as much as it is the message that molds the medium. It's a chicken and egg situation. What I want to say is, an artist will convey what they want to through their medium of choice because it is what best fits their vision (and, of course, their personal abilities, but that's beside the point). The message was shaped to fit the medium. A writer may choose to write in the second person to achieve a rawness in the way they address the reader that neither the first nor the third person could achieve in the exact fashion they envisioned. A manga artist may choose to use a double spread instead of a single page to lend more gravity and magnitude to an action sequence's decisive moment. A film director will place the camera angle so as to place the focus on a certain object that will gain relevance in a later scene. And so on.

An artist who possesses mastery of their medium is akin to any other person who has mastered the tool of their choice. Knowing how to measure the strength of your grip will make your sword cut better. Careful measuring of the ingredients will allow a chef to bring out that extra hint of flavor that would otherwise be missed by an amateur. A translator with deep knowledge of the languages they are working with will be able to offer a counterpart to otherwise untranslatable wordplay that is just as clever. Likewise, it will be apparent when an artist knows how to capitalize on the strengths of their medium of choice, because they possess a freshness to their work that transcends those made through mere technical prowess alone. It's like the difference between putting on a featureless sweatshirt and a stylish jacket embossed with metal spikes. If you met two people wearing these in the middle of a street, you would sooner focus on the one wearing the latter than the former, right?

Fujimoto, Hayashida and Daromeon, along with other manga artists such as Tsutomu Nihei, are artists whose styles I greatly appreciate because of a distinct quality I will dub Stylistic Roughness. I mean this to be distinct, and I would say diametrical opposite, from a rough style. The latter is an artstyle where apparent mistakes, such as awkward proportions, poor use of paneling, unclear placement of balloons, uneven lineart, you name it, that are due to involuntary factors, such as haste, lack of care, or insufficiently trained skill. A lack of choice, in other words. Stylistic roughness, on the other hand, is the opposite: the roughness is a feature. It is a choice. The world of Dorohedoro is cesspool where gore is the norm, a metal album in comic form: her artstyle wraps Hole, its inhabitants in a distinctly grotesque, inescapable veneer where even cuteness can't help but blossom in morbidly weird ways. Intimate knowledge of the body and martial arts - of what it means for a blow to impact your own body or for one of your own to meet the body of an adversary - is perfectly evident in Kengan Asura's art, where a beautiful marriage of exaggeration and realism expresses such power in every blow depicted, you will come out of flipping every page trembling as if it was you who got a heel the size of a truck smashed atop your skull. Nihei's characters are ghostly sketches lost within the labyrinthine, oppressive immensity of the Megastruture's rigid architecture, an evocative contrast that underlines the sheer magnitude and solitude of environs akin to massive graves where even the dusty memory of their creators has been reduced to a scant few traces. And then we have Fujimoto, whose provocative themes are conveyed with an artstyle that bleeds with at once contempt for the absurdity of modern society's trappings and a dry, yet unquestioningly heartfelt pity for the individuals that said society begets.

These works shine because they know how to use their medium. The medium, the style, they're pulsing organs of the whole that are their stories, stories made to be conveyed in a certain fashion because the medium allowed them to utilize certain techniques, ideas and solutions that work because they leveraged the strengths of, specifically, manga.

Strengths which are distinct from those of animation.

An adaption, in my opinion, live and dies not by how faithfully it mirrors its source, but by how creatively it reinterprets and reimagines the source in a way that leverages the strengths of a different medium. It's why so many video game movie adaptions fail: just because you can "play" a movie, it doesn't mean you can play a movie. Strip the main source of fun, the interactivity, from a game, and what's left? Many a movie director has failed to answer this question in a satisfactory fashion. In the same vein, anime adaptions tend to fail, in my opinion, because they do not attempt to go further than putting into motion what was on the inked page. That's it. No panache, no individuality.

I want an adaption to give me a reason to experience the same story again in a uniquely distinctive, fresh fashion. Otherwise, why wouldn't I just peruse the source again, when I know for sure that it was made to be the best it could possibly be on the medium it was conceived to fit to begin with? I have no interest in a digested summary of a story I already know, so I expect the original story to become the familiar framework over which something new is built. I'm not talking about a narrative digression, mind you, but a stylistic one.

It is easy to pick apart Dorohedoro, Kengan Asura and Blame's anime adaptions. The myopic, inexplicable decision to take two works that made of Stylistic Roughness their distinctive trait, and instead wrapped the original story in the incredibly ugly, stiff and lifeless trappings of cheap 3D CG. I hate to disparage the work of the artist involved, and I am sure that their talents would have been put to perfectly enjoyable use, had the direction allowed them to do so. But then, what's the problem with Chainsaw Man's adaption? It seems crazy to compare it to those two, right? After all, it is undeniable that MAPPA has managed to produce a series that, by all intents and purposes, looks like something that would have only been thought possible in a theatrical release up to very recent years, rather than a TV series. I could say that I shudder to think about what the conditions that made this possible may be, after the incredibly chilling production fiasco that was Wonder Egg Priority, but I'm hardly the kind of person who'd let that keep them from trying a show out.

My problem with CSM's adaption is that it suffers from the same issue as the adaptions I mentioned above. It merely occupies the exact opposite end of the same spectrum. The animation is KyoAni levels of kino - and that's about it. I cannot claim to know how much input Fujimoto had into the series' artistic direction. Anyone with even passing knowledge of his works is well aware of his passion for movies, so it would be reasonable to guess that the anime's direction owes much to this preference. And I don't think it works. Everything feels too squeaky clean. It's competently made like a white cupboard. It does its job extremely well, but it doesn't stand out otherwise. It's a kind of feeling I have begun to recognize ever since I gave Lycoris Recoil a try: I have no interest virtuosic displays of an animation studio's ability to depict the fabric of a sleeve around an incredibly detailed hand moving in seemingly rotoscoped fashion. Or, at the very least, not when there is nothing more than to it than that. Not when works like CSM fail to gain anything from such details, because the reason they thrived was due to distinctly personal vision conveyed through incredibly unique Stylistic Roughness. I don't want a CSM fight to look realistic. I want to look and feel like a fucking satisfyingly thought-out mess.

Masters like Satoshi Kon know how to use that kind of realistic approach while still infusing their work with incredible amounts of life. Stuff like the CSM anime or Lycoris Recoil feel like prepackaged products too busy vaunting the superficial appeal of their kino animation to truly try and reach out for the reviewers with anything more. The OPs and EDs of CSM are rife with all the creativity that the show itself lacks.

And this is why I think the Bocchi anime is a better adaption than Chainsaw Man's.

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romanstheory · 2 years

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Roman request where he makes her choose between him or The Rock, please. 😘

Word Count : 627

18 +

Roman and I have been in this weird talking phase for a while. We're not together, and our status isn't really clear. I know he's talking to other women, I've seen him flirting with them backstage. I've just come back from filming a new action adventure movie with The Rock. He and I have spent a lot of time together recently, and I really do like him. It's a sticky situation because well....... They're cousins but they're both fine as hell and it just kind of happened. The Rock and I have went to award shows, done interviews together, everything under the sun so me taking a liking to him was bound to happen.

He insisted on coming to Smackdown with me since I was going to be making my big return. We head to the arena together "Let me help you warm up" He says "I'm a little rusty but I think I can help" The Rock says flashing his big beautiful smile. "I dunno I don't wanna hurt you, big shot" I say jokingly. Roman curiously turns the corner and looks at the two of us with complete confusion and shock. His eyes shook to his cousin, and then over to me "What's uhh.... Going on here?" Roman says pointing to the two of us. "Heyyy Joe, nothing I'm just here to support this beautiful lady on her big return after our movie" The Rock says enthusiastically. Roman isn't happy, and I can tell.

"Crazy, because she already has me here for that" Roman says straight faced. If looks could kill The Rock would have been dead right then and there. "Well he was going to help me warm up..... Why don't you come help too" I offer to break the tension. Roman clenches his jaw and rubs his beard "Let's go" He says walking out into the empty arena. We practice taking bumps, and it seems like instead of trying to help me warm up Roman was in competition with The Rock. "You know, I'm actually gonna tap out. You two should finish" The Rock says. I know he can sense the tension Roman has with him so him leaving was probably best.

"What was that Roman?" I say as I sit on the top rope in the corner of the ring. "I don't like you being close to him" Roman says quickly. "But it's fine for you to get close to other women?" I respond with an eye roll "You're so unclear and I'm tired of playing a guessing game with you". Roman fixes his messy bun and walks over to me. I'm at eye level with him on the top rope. "They don't matter, it's just conversation" Roman says "But I need you to pick between me or him". I look at him for a second, I would choose him over and over and over again if I knew he would do the same. "I need you to choose ME first" I say with a straight face "I'm not choosing you until I know you'll choose me first".

"I made that choice when I felt the way that I did when I saw you light up talking to him. I realized I didn't want anyone else to make you feel like that but me" Roman says putting his hands around my waist. "Then of course I choose you" I say smiling. Roman plants a soft kiss on my lips and I'm filled with that warm fuzzy feeling you get when you see your favorite person after a long day. His touch melted me like ice cream on a hot summer day. As confusing as he's been...... I believe him. I believe that he'd choose me over anyone, any day, at any moment.

#roman reigns #roman reigns fluff #roman reigns one shot #wwe #wwe fluff #roman reigns x female #wwe x female #tribal chief #the tribal chief #the bloodline

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that-thing-that-feeling · 2 years

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We’ll see how it goes in vol 2 but here’s my problem with the Cali plot so far. Some ppl say Joyce is ooc for leaving her kids in danger but for me it’s the opposite. She had no reason to believe they were in danger, and she was just supposed to be gone a few days in AK and come back to Cali with Hopper. But her kids? They’re about to take big risks knowingly by getting back to Hawkins, and they’re not thinking of Joyce if something happens to them? At least, they should try to contact her and letting her know where they are, why she may not find them when she comes back (and if they ever survive Vecna/001), what they’re doing and why, not giving the impression they’ve just forgotten her. I mean saving Max is important, but not more important than their mom.

It is ooc of Joyce to leave and to know there’s something clearly wrong with Jonathan (she’d know what), and to not ask further about the skating rink incident Argyle mentions at the table. However, it’s in character for Joyce on the plane to second guess not telling them the truth and to worry about leaving and if they could be in danger.

They try to contact her when El is arrested to see if the plane has left yet (presumably Jonathan tries to call the airport or airline or something when Will asks if her plane has left). And then she’s basically out of contact. Once Owens people show up and tell them things are dangerous in Hawkins, they all freak out about that (Mike mentions his family being there, Will mentions all their friends being there, Jonathan is obvs worried about Nancy) and are told they can’t contact anyone there and that El’s training might take weeks or months. So it makes sense that Jonathan comes up with a plan to go to Hawkins. They also end up being right, because it turns out they weren’t safe alone in Lenora because Sullivan’s military ends up attacking their house and from that point on they’re basically in hideout mode.

I think the writers should have had Joyce and the Byers fam talk more in the scenes before she left—it feels unclear how they were supposed contact her (altho she does try to call them when she arrives in Alaska—I’m not quite sure why the line is busy? Also do they have her motel number?). But yeah I don’t think it’s them not caring about Joyce. They’re in a complicated and not safe situation and basically aren’t supposed to contact anyone at a certain point plus are literally almost killed in the raid. The writers made some messy choices though with how easy it should have been for Sullivan’s group to find them (since they didn’t change names).

#stranger things 4 spoilers #joyce byers #jonathan byers #will byers #el hopper

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nandalorian · 4 years

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the gentleness that comes

Sometimes you just get thinking about random things like “what if Jaskier decided to Eternal Sunshine himself to get over the mountain breakup?” and then proceed to ruin not only your life but the lives of everyone else around you. 🙃

Jaskier/Geralt, PG-13

“No mage can do what you’re asking. Not even, I would wager, something as powerful as a djinn, or at least not in any way that would bring you peace,” Tissaia explains with more patience than Jaskier honestly expected. For all the fearsome tales he’s heard of the headmistress of Aretuza, she is either kinder than he deserves, or the stories have done her very, very wrong. Perhaps both. But her eyes are steady, her expression serene. Absolute. “Just as we cannot induce someone to fall in love, nor can we make them fall out of it.” She pauses to offer a sympathetic smile. “I am sorry. For you to have travelled such a long way, I suspect you do not make this request in haste.”

The compassion in Tissaia’s voice is terrible to hear. After all, sometimes kindness can look like cruelty before you’ve gotten enough distance on a thing. Certainly the opposite is true, anyway. Jaskier would know. He lowers his gaze to his hands, of a sudden fascinated by the calluses on his fingertips, the ragged skin around his nails. He has to take several deep, steadying breaths before he answers.

“No, not in haste,” he manages at last. “I have prayed for it for some twenty-seven years.”

“Any man would be blessed to have captured such a loyal heart.”

Jaskier can’t resist a scoff. “Any man indeed.”

Several long moments pass, and eventually he must accept that Tissaia has said all she can on the matter. He forces himself to smile and climb to his feet, whereupon he sketches a bow fit for a queen. Tissaia doesn’t rise. She barely blinks, a statue rendered in green velvet and black lace.

“Mistress. I thank you for the tea, and your candor,” he tells her, still inclining his head with a hand pressed over his heart. “It’s not often a humble bard may boast an audience with the great Tissaia de Vries. If ever you are in need of musical entertainment, I proudly volunteer my services. I’m in your debt.”

“You are in no one’s debt, Lord Pankratz,” Tissaia answers, serenely as ever. At no point during their conversation did Jaskier tell her his full name, having introduced himself as Jaskier the Bard and no more. His title is useful to fling around in situations that call for it, but not here; Tissaia would see through any attempt at peacocking. “Nor are you merely a humble bard. You are most welcome here, as any friend of Yennefer’s is a friend of Aretuza.”

“Jaskier, if you will. And I’m not quite sure Yennefer would deign to call me a friend, but I’ll take it.” He smiles back and speaks through the tightness in his throat. “It’s been a pleasure.”

He is almost to the door of her study when her voice rings out again.

“Jaskier.”

He turns.

At some point Tissaia stood without making a sound and came around the desk to face him with her hands clasped together. “I cannot fulfill your wish as such. But I may be able to offer an alternative. One that comes at a great cost.”

Jaskier swallows and hopes the thrill of hope--and fear--elicited by her words isn’t completely obvious. “I’m listening.”

Her solution is quite simple, really, and so obvious that Jaskier isn’t sure how he didn’t think of it before.

However, nor is Tissaia’s warning in jest: the cost is great indeed. So great that Jaskier cannot in good conscience be sure it is one he’s capable of paying.

Not monetary, of course, though he came prepared to empty his pockets and offer his soul if necessary. No, the cost is something more significant and precious than any coin or favour. Much more.

“A memory spell is a rather straightforward matter,” Tissaia explains as she and Jaskier walk the halls of Aretuza. Their destination is unclear, but where Tissaia goes, he follows. He’s not stupid enough to do otherwise. “It’s a spell even a novice can be expected to perform adequately, with the proper training, of course. One never knows when war might be averted by something as simple as a king forgetting an accidental slight, or a maid forgetting a conversation they were not meant to overhear.” She shrugs. “Not always the most elegant solution, but effective.”

A shiver crawls down Jaskier’s spine and makes the hair stand up on his arms and the back on his neck.

Magic, especially the kind taught at Aretuza or Ban Ard, is an ethical grey area, and mages have always played hard and fast with the rules, holding themselves above the trivialities and petty concerns of human morality. That’s why they’re mages: feared, awed, and resented in equal measure.

That Tissaia speaks so casually about altering people’s memories, of mages’ power to decide the course of history according to their own values and interests, is a frightening concept. Most days Jaskier can’t decide what to eat for breakfast. And yet here he is, about to consider letting one of the most powerful mages in history stick her creepy magical fingers in his brain and give it a stir. He should consider getting his sanity checked instead.

Jaskier casts a sidelong look at Tissaia. “But falling in love isn’t like hearing something you shouldn’t, or being offended by a poor choice of words. It’s--”

“Complicated. Yes, quite. And even erasing the briefest of memories does not always go according to plan.”

Without warning, she stops in front of a heavy set of double doors, which she throws open with a flick of her wrist--a useless bit of pageantry, that, but one that distracts from Jaskier’s increasingly pressing urge to flee. Tissaia gestures for him to follow her inside and walks on.

Jaskier doesn’t immediately obey. Drumming his fingers anxiously against his leg, he leans over to peer inside, mind racing ahead to images of a frightening laboratory, potions bubbling away in vials, screaming victims strapped to tables or floating in giant vats. It’s--

Oh. A library.

Huffing to himself, Jaskier adjusts the strap of his lute on his shoulder and hurries to catch up.

The place is massive, far larger than it looks to be from outside, with soaring ceilings and giant stained-glass windows that reach several stories above their heads. Shelves upon shelves line the walls, stretching from floor to ceiling, and dozens more sit in neat rows upon multiple levels, staggered in tiers like a duchess’s birthday cake. They are filled to bursting with books, of course, interspersed with tables and comfortable chairs for mages at study. Jaskier can count at least four fireplaces burning merrily away. Right now he and Tissaia appear to be the only ones here.

With a theatricality he can’t help but admire, Tissaia turns and holds out her arms, encompassing everything and looking very like a queen showing off her kingdom. “What do you see before you?” she asks, voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space.

Jaskier furrows his brow. The question is almost certainly a trick of some kind, so he answers with the first thing to come to mind. “Uh… books?”

“Precisely.” Tissaia lowers her arms. “Tens of thousands of books, each of them containing spells, histories, first- and secondhand accounts of untold lifetimes, many of which have been forgotten but not lost.”

“Memories.”

She nods. “Yes. But memories are not like books. And magic, even in the hands of the most talented user, is not like taking a book down off a shelf. It is not a matter of selecting a few chapters to discard and letting the person continue on their merry way. The mind is a much more delicate and complex thing. If it were to be a story, it would be a very messy story indeed, with no clear narrative or plot, no chapter headings, and not necessarily even a single voice.”

“Sounds like some of my earliest compositions.”

He titters at his own joke; Tissaia’s expression doesn’t budge.

Unnerved, Jaskier clears his throat and has to break eye contact, looks around the room instead. After a moment, and with a smidge more gravity, he asks, “Why are you telling me this?”

Once again Tissaia regards him with that patient look from before. “Because you must comprehend that there is a price to what you’re asking, and why I do not suggest this lightly. If you are truly serious in your quest to rid yourself of Geralt of Rivia, and I sense that you are, there is a possible way forward. But to erase this one chapter of your life will require throwing out many more--whole volumes, whole books, shelf after shelf of memories. Possibly the entire library, if things do not go according to plan.” She pauses and steps forward to touch his chin, forcing Jaskier to look at her. “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

He swallows with difficulty, throat catching on the boulder suddenly lodged there. It wouldn’t do to ruin the moment by asking how she knows this is about Geralt, even though Jaskier definitely didn’t tell her and did his best to avoid thinking about him during their initial conversation. But his reputation precedes him, after all, and if not that, he really doesn’t want to know the extent of the mage’s legendary powers of telepathy. He also thinks to bring it up now would be missing the point.

“Are you saying I will forget my whole life?” he asks.

“Unlikely, though not impossible,” says Tissaia like that isn’t an utterly testicle-shrivelling statement. “That is the worst-case scenario. The best is that you will cease to remember everything since you met Geralt. That is, in essence, what you want, is it not?”

“I’ve known Geralt since I was barely eighteen.” Panic suffuses his voice without Jaskier quite meaning it to. “I’m forty-five years old.”

Eighteen-year-old Jaskier is a mystery to him now. Oh, he vaguely recalls joints that didn’t creak and a back that offered him less trouble each morning upon rising, a cock that would swell at a hard gust of wind and balls that never seemed to empty. That boy could sing all day and dance all night in and out of people’s beds. He was loud, annoying, impetuous, drunk on the sound of his own voice, and full of love. So full of love that he could saunter up to a complete stranger with white hair and yellow eyes and end up following him around for twenty-seven years instead. Well… twenty-four, if you don’t count the last three since they become estranged. Which Jaskier absolutely does not.

His enduring muse and most steadfast friend; his life’s greatest and most unfulfilled passion.

His most profound heartbreak.

Not much has changed about the last part, but Jaskier likes to think he’s grown wiser with age, less migraine-inducing. He lived enough to discover what pleased him before it was taken away.

Are any of those lessons worth unlearning, for any reason?

“Eighteen isn’t a bad age,” Tissaia remarks, breaking through his thoughts, or perhaps deliberately interrupting. She has been steadily taking in Jaskier’s internal struggle with that calm, measured gaze, though her attention is sharp. “By then most of us have some idea of who we are and what we want. Enough that you could begin again.”

Jaskier slants her a look. “Mages are immortal, and you’re one of the oldest still living. Please don’t condescend to me that eighteen is anything but as unbearably young as it sounds.”

A small smile. Perversely, it reminds him of Geralt. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, forty-five is unbearably young too.”

Ruefully, unexpectedly, Jaskier barks a laugh and concedes the point with a nod. “Touché.”

They linger in that shared bit of humour for a moment, Tissaia’s smile widening and making her look abruptly more human since they met, and then she cants her head. She gestures, and from seemingly nowhere a book tumbles off some far-off shelf and flies into her hand. With an enigmatic smile, she turns it over to reveal the spine and hands it to Jaskier. The Songs of Jaskier the Bard is tooled on the front in gold, winking in the firelight.

“You’re more fortunate than most: there’s an account of your life right here. Should you want it, that is.”

“I’m not sure I do anymore.” Jaskier peers at the book from the corner of his eye. It almost hurts to look at it directly, to think of the tales sung about in its pages, the joy, the adventure, but also the love and heartache couched beneath every note, every clever turn of phrase. The next words are a genuine struggle to get out, and he tries with everything he has not to cry. “No, I think that time has quite passed. I want peace. And if not peace, then at least blissful ignorance.”

“Hm.” The sound is neither pitying nor understanding, merely thoughtful. Tissaia regards him critically. “Then you may have it. You’re still a young man. Not a grey hair on you, and I’ve my suspicions you’ll live for a while yet.”

Jaskier narrows his eyes at her. What does that even mean. “What does that mean?”

She chuckles. “It means you have time. And time heals a multitude of wounds. Not perfectly, but… passably.”

“And--what? I can find love again, or some such tosh?”

“If you like.”

He huffs. “I used to think that. I did. Give it time, and eventually I’d meet someone new who would make me forget Geralt ever existed, blah blah blah--yes, I know, the irony of that isn’t lost on me.” Jaskier is quiet for a moment. “But I don’t know if that’s true anymore. It’s been three years. The wound hasn’t healed, only festered. The more I try to open my heart to others, the more it seems to close.”

“It is said people linked by destiny will always find each other.”

“Oh, I know that one. That’s a prison sentence, not a comfort.”

“I didn’t intend for it to be.”

At last Jaskier forces himself to look down at the book in his hand. It has a pleasant heft in his hand, the weight of a life lived well. For twenty-seven--no, twenty-four years he gazed upon the face of the man he loved and loves still. Sang of him, to him, the way seabirds call to the sea, a song in their blood even when the crash of the surf is too far away to be heard.

Is that enough? Can it be enough?

Perhaps it will have to be. Or perhaps he can simply wake up tomorrow and not remember or care what the correct answer is. Forget even that he asked the question.

He sets the book down upon a nearby table and pauses only to run his hand down the cover, leather supple beneath his fingertips. In his mind’s eye is Geralt--not spitting mad and vicious on a mountaintop, no, but as Jaskier first saw him, sitting quietly by himself in the corner of a tavern. Trying so very hard to escape everyone’s notice, and yet once he caught Jaskier’s eye, quite impossible to look away from. Impossible not to love.

Jaskier turns back to Tissaia and meets her gaze steadily.

“I understand and accept the risks,” he says, confident in a way he does not feel. That has always been his way. Even, it must be said, at eighteen. It’s enough. It will be enough. “Now tell me what I must do.”

#the witcher #jaskier x geralt #jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier/geralt #geraskier #post ep 1x06 #post mountain breakup #not sure if this will continue or if i will just suffer in silence from here on out #my fic #tumblr fic

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faulty-writes · 4 years

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Those headcanons about the ineffectual villain soulmate, would you please do some sequel headcanons? I think you mentioned once where maybe a cop or another hero would get tired of the reader making a nuisance out of themselves and then try to seriously hurt or kill them, so the boys save them.

[ I think I know what you are talking about. These headcanons right here. I enjoyed writing those, so hopefully this will be fun to write as well! I hope you enjoy! Do you guys prefer long or short headcanons because I wrote too damn much. Haha. ]

Tenya Iida

Being associated with the hero Ingenium could prove to be dangerous for any villain, however, you found that he had a certain charm about him. Very proper and straightforward. But you always had to watch your back, knowing that if any other villains knew about your connection to the turbo hero. It would cause trouble and despite Ingenium's efforts to try and change you. Steer you onto the path of heroism, you continued to refuse. Soulmate or not, you wanted to be a great villain. One that everyone would take seriously, though even Ingenium didn’t seem to fully believe your capabilities.

So you had decided to try and prove the hero wrong, your latest scheme involved kidnapping the young child of a Pro Hero that happened to be rising in the ranks. You had tied the child up and though their crying was rather annoying, you stood on top of the tallest skyscraper you could find and grinned to yourself as you held your phone up and proceeded to make a live video. “That’s right! It is I, the villain you failed to take seriously! Well, what about now!?” you grinned as you held the child over the edge by their shirt collar. “Come now! Pathetic hero! Or your child shall suffer!” you threatened with a devilish grin.

When the hero showed up, it was a rather messy battle that you knew was being filmed live on television and while various other heroes arrived to contain the scene. You were almost sad Ingenium wasn’t among them, especially because you had ended up dropping the child as you tried to fight against the hero, though unlike your past experiences. It seemed this hero was out to kill you, but you managed to escape when they made the choice to save their child. But your injuries had slowed you down and the authorities apprehended you, after going to the hospital you were locked away in a cell.

Of course, no true villain can be kept behind bars and you made a hasty escape. Once more roaming the streets. News of your jail break immediately went up on the news and heroes began patrolling the streets to locate you. Like before, you expected Ingenium to arrive on the scene, instead you were greeted by the same hero whose child you had stolen and it was clear they were not happy with your behavior.

“Hah, try your worst hero. You might have beaten me before, but this time you shall be the one on your knees.” you threatened, not hesitating to charge at them. However, they were quick and it seemed they memorized your fighting style as they proceeded to dodge every swing and kick. “Stand still!” you growled, trying once more to land a hit. But, it was clear you were outmatched and when you felt their fist collide with your cheek, you yelped. Your jawbone felt as though it cracked and the taste of blood filled your mouth.

You whimpered as you tried to push yourself back up from the ground, but instead, you were greeted with the hero's foot colliding with your stomach and your body skimmed across the ground. You felt fresh cuts and scrapes oozing as you struggled to get up once more. “What a pathetic villain, I’ll be doing a favor by ridding this world of your existence.” the hero threatened and before you could react, their hand wrapped around your throat.

You knew it wasn’t a villain’s place to feel fear, but with those fingers tightening. Cutting off your oxygen, you couldn’t help but feel scared and you hated it. At a hero’s mercy, yet another cruel reminder you couldn’t be the villain you wanted to be. But almost as if a miracle, you heard a voice break the tension. “Halt! I insist you release them and step away! For I...will not allow you to cause any harm to the one I cherish.” your eyes widened as you recognized it was Ingenium and for the first time, the idea of being saved by a hero made you smile.

Ingenium had taken care of the so-called hero that attacked you with great haste, however, you ended up blacking out. Leaving your fate up to the hero that claimed to be your soulmate, of course, Ingenium could never leave the wounded behind and when you opened your eyes, you found yourself in the hospital. Ingenium was sitting by your side and gave you a warm smile, “I am very glad to see you are awake! I was hoping I could see your rather...beautiful eyes once more.” he said, and though you were a tad suspicious what would happen next. You managed to hold a conversation with Ingenium, but it led to a question you didn’t expect.

While Ingenium had tried countless times to get you to turn sides, become a hero instead of a villain. He was shocked to know that a hero had done something so disgraceful to you, yes a hero’s job was to stop villains. But intentionally going in for the kill was unnecessary. “You are quite admirable in your efforts, that drive to not surrender, to not weaver to the troubles that interfere with your goal are unshaken. However, I am fearful that another will try and harm you,” he confessed before he reached over to take your hand. “Please..reconsider your path and...join me as my sidekick...” he said with a firm tone as if you had no choice but to agree.

A villain...turned sidekick. Would that be reasonable? It was clear Ingenium would not give up and honestly, in your injured condition, you couldn’t argue. You knew there was a chance you’d end up in jail after you were released from the hospital, was Ingenium trying to save you yet again? Nearly losing your life had scared you, but heroes too risked their lives every day. Yet, you knew Ingenium would protect you from suffering such a fate. You found yourself hesitantly agreeing, though you were a little weary what the future would lie ahead for you.

Izuku Midoriya

Since you met the number one hero, Deku. Your life had been slowly changing, for better or worse you weren’t sure yet. But you cursed yourself because of your inability to actually hurt Deku, no matter how hard you tried. He had checkmated you and it was frustrating. Deku seemed to be the only one that took you seriously and you wanted everyone to treat you with that same respect. So you made a plan to attack the Hero Appreciation Festival. Surely that would get others to understand just how serious you were about being a villain.

You had planted several bombs underneath the ground of the festival and when the timing was right, you set them off. It was almost a joy to hear those screams and watch as the heroes scurried around trying to fix the situation. It was a joyful sight, yet you almost expected to see Deku. It was a little discouraging he hadn’t shown, perhaps you needed to step up your game. Of course, you had managed to become a member of a villainous gang. They were recruiting new members and though they had laughed at you when you first wanted to join. Upon revealing your plan for the Hero Appreciation Festival, they seemed to change their mind.

However, you might have left out a few details. For when you returned to them. You were greeted with severe punishment, maybe it had been unclear that your attack would be...explosive. But you quickly learned what it meant to be outmatched by villains who thought nothing of it as they pressed a knife to your already beaten and bloody throat. “Useless villain you are, pathetic even...one less member means nothing to me.” one of them said just before you felt that sharp metal press harder against your throat, creating a cut. A small amount of panic came as a thick line of blood began oozing down, soaking into the collar of your shirt. However just as they were about to drag it across your neck. The ceiling caved in and there stood the tall shadow of none other than Deku.

“Deku!” you couldn’t help but exclaim the man’s name, hero or not. He was the only one that you seemed to trust and the only that would show up to save you. He looked at you with a smile before narrowing his eyes on the group of villains. “I’d suggest you...put that knife away,” he warned, but like most villains. They did not take the hero seriously and began to laugh at Deku’s warning. “Well...alright...have it your way,” he said before he kicked off the ground, leaving behind a large dent filled with cracked pavement. Your eyes widened as the blurry image of Deku closed in on you and before you realized. The villain that had the knife to your throat was smashed into the ground and you, in turn, were cradled in Deku’s arms.

You hated to admit it, but once the battle was over and Deku had taken you to his apartment to patch you up. You felt nervous and a strange feeling seemed to weigh you down, was this the feeling of guilt? Deku had placed you in his bed and though you were expecting him to take you the police. Deku had instead pulled up a chair and looked at you with a serious glance. “Mind telling me why you were a part of that gang? You know...you...you deserve so much better than that,” he said and while you were shocked at his words, you ended up confessing why. Because no one took your villainous acts seriously.

Deku seemed to understand, “That might be true, maybe you’re not the most feared but...y-you...you’re still amazing and I’m happy I arrived on time if anything happened to you...” he trailed off and your eyes widened, if anything happened to you what? No one would miss a villain, would they? You gasped when Deku rose from his chair and leaned over you, his hands pressing against the top of yours. “Well...maybe I can explain it better...this way...” he said as he leaned in, you found yourself backing up before you hit the headboard. Effectively trapping yourself and sucked in a breath as you felt the hero's lips press against yours.

Mirio Togata

Despite your best intentions in trying to work alongside Lemillion, your so called soulmate. You felt too awkward as if it wasn’t your calling. Despite Lemillion encouraging you every day, it was nice to hear such words but you just couldn’t keep up this act of heroism. Lemillion seemed to take notice of this, “What’s wrong, sunshine? Aren’t you happy with me?” he questioned with a frown, and while you almost wanted to lie. You confessed that you weren’t cut out to be a hero and wanted to leave. But Lemillion had tried to prevent you from doing so which resulted in you trying to attack him, but you couldn’t match up to his strength.

Still, you managed to make a hasty escape and proceeded to try and resume your villainous ways. The easiest and quickest thing to do was to rob a jewelry store, of course, that was also tricky. With heroes patrolling the streets and citizens that might interfere, but even if you got caught. At least word of your evil deed would spread, still as soon as you broke the window to the jewelry store. An alarm sounded and you cursed before grabbing a handful of gems and rings. You ran out of the store and proceeded to climb onto the roof. Of course, several citizens gathered outside the building and pointed as you stood above them.

Though you didn’t often find yourself second-guessing, you took a step back and scanned the crowd. Wondering if Lemillion would show up, but you shook your head. No, you didn’t need him. A growl escaped you and your hand reeled back before you threw the jewelry you had stolen. You heard some citizens shout and for a moment, you wondered if you had injured them with the jewelry you had thrown. You curiously stepped closer to the edge and looked over, however, that proved to be a mistake when a rock came. You yelped and stumbled back, holding your bleeding nose. You ended up missing your footing and fell to the ground below.

As if it wasn’t bad enough to have fallen from a roof with a bloody nose, the wind had gotten knocked out of you when you hit the ground. But that didn’t stop the “innocent” civilians from kicking you when you were down. You cried out when you felt a surge of pain course through your sides from their abuse, further impacting your current inability to breathe. You tried to crawl away but let out another struggled sound as someone stomped on your hand. The taste of iron filled your mouth and you let out a whimper before one of the civilians was pulled back. You heard several gasps before you weakly looked up at the shadow that now loomed over you. They got down on one knee and reached their hand out, “Are you okay, sunshine?” they questioned.

It was almost stupid for you to have felt safe when Lemillion scooped you into his arms, you could recall the way he glared at the civilians, “Not to be rude or anything, but no one is worthy of protection if they beat on the innocent. That includes my sunshine, you need to leave punishments up to the Pro’s.” he warned before walking off, you found yourself burying your face into the crook of his neck and he didn’t seem to mind, but you were a little concerned as to where he was taking you. But as soon as you saw a tall building with the words “Big Three Agency” you realized.

It was strange to think an Agency would have a recovery wing, but in a way it made sense. Even heroes got hurt, but you kept quiet as Lemillion sat you down on the examination table and allowed the nurse to work on you. Once your injuries were patched up, the nurse ordered you to lay down as some of your ribs had gotten bruised. “I know that you want to be a villain and maybe being a hero isn’t your thing. But that's no excuse to put yourself in danger like that. What those people did was wrong but...what you did was wrong as well.” Lemillion said, crossing his arms. You almost wanted to roll your eyes, but deep down you knew he was right.

You stayed in the recovery wing for a few days, Lemillion would come to see you every day. Honestly, you were almost glad for his company, that is until the day he decided to yet again remind you that you were his soulmate. He reached to grab your hands, placing a kiss on each one. “I know you may not believe this, but...I love you, villain or not, and...I’m sorry if this seems kind of harsh. But I can’t allow this to happen to you again.” you frowned, knowing where he was going with his words. “So I’m going to tell you...I’ve decided to give you a job here at my Agency. You’ll be safer and...” he paused and leaned over to hug you. “I’m not giving you a choice...” he said, but you were forming yet again another escape plan in your head.

#iida x reader #midoriya x reader #mirio x reader #tenya x reader #izuku x reader #togata x reader #bnha requests #Anonymous

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ablogthatishenceforthmine · 4 years

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Thoughts on Korra and Mako’s Break Up

So, one of the things I knew before watching the series was that Mako would betray Korra, and then break up with her. Everything i’ve seen about this event made me think that I would be angry at Mako, and take Korra’s side. But actually watching it now... that’s not the case?

Do I think Mako was completely right? No, I do think he was mostly right. Both he and Korra messed up in this situation. But, I think Korra messed up more than he did.

So, this post is probably going to seem pretty negative toward Korra. But, the point of this post isn’t to bash her. And i’m not bashing her. I love Korra. She is easily my favorite LOK character so far. But she is my favorite character because he is soooo flawed. And those flaws are just so apparent, in a way which the hero character’s flaws usually aren’t. She is just such a messy person, and she makes mistakes, big and small, all the time. So even though this post is quite critical of Korra, just now that these mistakes and flaws I describe here are part of the reason I love her.

So, I’m going to go through their conflict one step at a time.

One: Advice/Support

In season 2, Korra often asks Mako what he thinks, or asks for advice. However, it’s clear that most of the time, she just wants him to agree with her, and support the choice she is inclined too. There are a few moments in the beginning of Season 2, however, where he actually does this, and she is unhappy with that too, such as when she asks what he thinks about training with Unalaq. For me, this moment, and others like it, Mako offers vague support instead of decisive advice because he genuinely does not know what the right or best thing to do is. And I get why this is frustrating for Korra, because being an Avatar is hard, and she wants help... it just that Mako isn’t really equipped to give advice and help with Avatar stuff.

However, Korra only sees to actually want his advice when she is uncertain. When she’s already make up her mind, she just wants wants his agreement and support, not his actual opinions. Whenever he gives advice or suggests something or speaks out against something that she wants to do or believes, she dismisses him. In "”Peacekeepers,” he tells her she should try to stay neutral and not take part in the Southern Water tribe’s peaceful protest. She is annoyed at his disagreement, and goes to the protest. He tells her that the attack was started by a firebender, and doesn’t think it’s necessarily the Northern water tribe. Korra doesn’t listen to him, and won’t consider the possibility that someone other than the Northern Water Tribe was responsible for the attack. After the president of Republic City refuses to send troops to help the Southern Tribe, Korra immediately views him as her enemy. When Mako tries to explain the president’s side of things to Korra, she doesn’t listen, and accuses him of not supporting her.

In almost all of these things, I agree with Mako. But in one of them, I do agree with Korra: going to the protest, and whether the Avatar should stay neutral. I like how the show is bringing up questions about what role the Avatar should play in the work. In ATLA, Aang’s role and what he should be trying to accomplish was obvious. But in LOK, it’s not so obvious for Korra. Being the Avatar shouldn’t always been being neutral; sometimes, it should mean taking a stand for the right side. Should Avatars start wars? Or should their only job be to resolve them, to create peace? But what if peace can only come about through war? I do think Korra was right to start a civil war. Unalaq was clearly oppressing the people of the Southern Water Tribe he stole the throne through dubious means, and he held a fake trial, getting opponents locked up. And Korra should stay neutral here? Her public support could really make a difference.

But on everything else, I agree with Mako. He is clearly right about the bombing at the protest being more than it seemed, and Korra is being stubborn and blind by refusing to even consider another possibility. He’s also right that she should try to see the president’s side of things. Korra has a tendency to view anyone who doesn’t agree with her or who doesn’t do what she wants them to do as the enemy. But, I understand where the president is coming from, and so does Mako, and he tries to get Korra to see it too. War is complicated, but Korra just wants the president to just rush into it. It’s unclear how much the president and the public knows. Do they know a lot, or only that there is a civil war? It would be better if the show was clearer on this. But even if the president does have all the information, it’s not bad to want to explore other options first, and see if the problem can be solved diplomatically. We know that there is no chance of dealing with Unalaq with diplomacy, but the president doesn’t, so it makes sense that he would want to explore options that didn’t involve going to war. I’m not saying the president’s decision is the right one, I’m just saying that it’s an understandable one. We, and Korra and Mako, haven’t seen much of him. but he hasn’t shown any signs that he is incompetent, cruel, or corrupt. So Mako is right, Korra should try to hear what the president is saying and not view him as an enemy.

So anyway, Mako and Korra have clear issues communicating. For me, the fault is mostly at Korra; she does not take criticism or disagreement well. But I also think there are things Mako could do better here. Korra likes to feel supported, to a larger than normal degree. She needs people to trust and support her. I think this comes from actually being pretty insecure. She spent her whole life sheltered, protected, and kinda controlled. So, it makes sense that she is drawn to people who say they believe in her, and believe in her ability to make good choices. This is why Korra is so easily manipulated. For most of her life, she had a feeling that people didn’t trust and believe in her enough, they kept her from being a part of the larger world. And if there is one thing that Korra hates it’s someone holding her back, or someone she perceives as holding her back. So, Korra’s lashing out at any hint that someone is doubting her makes sense. I don’t think Mako had made it super clear that he supports the civil war, and that saving her family and her tribe is important too him. I’m sure he does, and i’m sure it is. But he could go a better job of making it clear, cause it seems like Korra thinks he doesn’t care about her family or the Southern Water tribe.

Two: The Betrayal

And then there is the betrayal, which I actually don’t think is that bad. For basically the sole reason that Korra’s plan is a TERRIBLE one. She wants to go behind the president’s back, and get his military to go to war with the Northern Water Tribe. This is basically a military coup. TERRIBLE IDEA. This could have such horrible consequences. The only circumstances she should do this is if the president is corrupt or tyrannical, which doesn’t seem to be the case. The Avatar staging a military coup could have huge and far-reaching consequences, and upsets the balance in their society. I mean, what could this do for Avatar-government relations throughout the world?

And it’s not like there aren’t other options. At the end of the episode, she goes to ask the Fire Nation for help. Surely, asking the other nations for aid should have been attempted before staging a military coup. Hell, maybe she should have tried rallying support with the people of the Northern Water Tribe, exposing Unalaq and telling them how he got the throne. Unalaq’s soldier’s and the people close to him are still going to support him, but the general public of the Northern Water Tribe? We haven’t seen much of them, but it’s hard to believe at least some of them wouldn’t have a problem with Unalaq after learning the truth. And if his people turn against him, that’s a big blow to him. AND it might make it easier for the president and the United Forces to step in, if‘s not longer just a civil war but a rebellion, where his own people don’t even want him to lead. Everyone would be against him, and thus, it would be less complicated for the United Forces to get involved. Hell, Korra could have tried rallying and gaining support in Republic City, and hope that public pressure could make the president take action

Point is, there are many different things Korra could have tried before staging a military coup. So, going to General Iroh, and trying to get the United Forces help the Southern Water Tribe behind the president’s back is a really bad idea. And yes, when they talk, they plan it so that the president will not know. But it is a terribly flimsy plan and there is very little likelihood that the president won’t find out.

So considering the terrible consequences this actions could have not just for Korra, but for Republic City and the world, Mako is right to betray her. I think he should have gone to her first and tried to convince her out of the plan. But, as stated above, Korra doesn’t really listen to him. So I can understand why he wouldn’t. Still, because they care about each other and are in a relationship, he should have tried it this way first. Maybe he could have told her his dilemma, and that if she goes through with the plan, he feels he will have to tell the president. But, at the end of the day, stopping Korra’s stupid plan feels like the right decision. However, it’s unclear how much Mako’s decision is about doing the right thing and much much it was about his duty as a cop (ew). So it’s hard to tell if Mako made the right decision for the right reasons or or the wrong reasons.

Three: The Breakup

The way Korra handles the betrayal is immature and wildly inappropriate. After learning of his betrayal, she bursts into the police station, his place of work, and starts yelling at him in front of his colleagues. She airbends his desk, destroying it. Which, to me, feels like the equivalent of punching a wall in the middle of a fight. She has a right to be angry, but in no way, is doing any of this okay. This is not why Mako breaks up with Korra, but, still, I can’t fault him for doing so after this. Korra is not good at handling her emotions (another of her flaws that makes me love her). She needs to learn how to deal with and express them in appropriate ways. So yeah, this is another situation where Korra is in the wrong. Although the stated reason for why the broke up, is that they are both too busy and devoted to their jobs, is kinda dumb.

#lok #korra #mako #lok book 2 #korra and mako #my posts #ablogthatishenceforthmine #legend of korra

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toloveawarlord · 4 years

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Pt. 3

Characters: Alara & Mansion Residents

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @ihavenotfallenyet @claire-maccarthy @littlewitty

A/N: Wow this took a ton of time and I rewrote scenes multiple times. I have mapped out the rest of this mini-series and it will be about 8 chapters long. Give or take a little bit!

Their opinions differed.

Split.

Arguments covering all the options of how to handle their tiny guest. Arthur, Vincent, and Napoleon siding on the best choice being for her to stay with them. She would be protected, safe, and happy. Jean, Mozart, and Sebastian were erring on the side of caution, finding all the reasons it would be wrong for her to remain. The rest of the residents were undecided.

Comte sat at the head of the table, no indication of his own thoughts on steeled features. Eventually, it would fall upon him to make the final decision as the owner of the mansion. Having his residents in disarray over a single human child, no matter how tragic her plight, simply wouldn’t do. She’d left quite a mark on the ones who had met her.

“Would it not be best to send the little mademoiselle to an orphanage? She’d be cared for, fed, sheltered, adopted into a permanent home,” Jean said. He’d only see the stepfather and he did sympathize, but this environment was most dangerous for a child.

Arthur gave a breathy laugh, waving his hand to dismiss the idea. “It’s unlikely that she’d last a week in a place like that. Her mother was bought, and that threat continues to loom over her. She’ll be eaten alive in an orphanage.” The mere idea of subjecting her to more trauma set a frown on the writer’s lips.

“Poor choice of words, Arthur. She’d be eaten alive here if one of us lost control.” The sour pianist hadn’t even laid eyes on the girl, but the presence of a child could bring adverse effects. What if she caused a ruckus when he was creating? All he knew of children was they’re loud and insatiable.

Isaac’s gaze flickered between the opposite parties. Both had their valid hypothesis of the outcomes of her staying, and yet... “If you’d met her, Mozart, you’d surely have reservations in throwing her out. We have a steady supply of rouge and blanc.” He’d consider it an outlier to say that their vampire state is the largest threat to her safety. Isaac couldn’t, in good conscious, send Alara off after seeing her carefree smile surface with them.

“I’m in agreement,” Vincent spoke up. Cerulean blue eyes downcast at his hands, the lingering feeling of her trembling body against his own ever present. The reason unclear, but the painter wished to protect her from the world that sought to harm her.

Sebastian cleared his throat, his opinion on the matter he thought irrelevant. “I believe it will be your decision, M. Le Comte. What action do you advise we take concerning our little guest?” He would honor whatever Comte decided.

All attention fell onto the pure blood at the head of the table, many of them wearing their emotions clearly on their faces. The truth being that an orphanage would not treat her kindly, but with so many residents against her stay, the most comparable choice was to place her in a family that he trusted to be good for her.

“I’ve a suggestion,” Theo interrupted, having remained neutral and quiet for most of the conversation. He’d only met the girl briefly, and the facts of their nature as vampires posed a real threat, and yet, humans could be just as dangerous. The situation a heavy one. “We should take a couple of days to deliberate on it.”

Dazai hummed in response but began to nod his head in agreement. “A rushed decision could result in a wrong choice. That man might simply claim her from an orphanage, and her fate could twist into more pain.”

“We shall keep Alara in our care until we can ensure her a home that will be suitable. Whether that be here, or elsewhere.” Comte spoke at last, bringing a swift end to their meeting. Tension and emotions were still high from the confrontation only hours earlier. All needed to reflect and rest.

As for himself, Comte went to visit their guest. He assured Napoleon that no reason remained for a guard. Oscar wouldn’t dare return so soon after his talk, if at all. The snake of a man had accepted the generous donation and returned to his hole. Shutting the door soundlessly, Comte turned his attention to the soft whines coming from beneath the comforter.

“Calm your fears. No harm shall come to you here, mon petite cherie.” Words laced with comfort and full of protection. He brushed his fingers through silky locks of black hair until the pained expression calmed. Had this child ever known a night of rest without nightmares since coming to France?

No real solution had been settled. His house in partial disarray. A little girl in a precarious situation where she would likely be subjected to more pain before this ended. Comte draped his overcoat over the back of the armchair before settling in it.

Finding any home for her was a simple job. His connections were endless but nowhere fitting the standard of life that he could provide for her. Any upper-class French couple would only treat a foreign child as lesser than. He refused to send her to anywhere less than a home that could give her anything her heart desired.

Yet, keeping her here held a great risk. A household full of vampires. The secret could be kept easily if no one bit her, at least until she was old enough to know. But children were reckless and hurt themselves easily. One slip and she could end up dead. Though he trusted each and every one of his residents and believed them to be careful enough to keep her safe, accidents were a possibility.

How would she effect the balance?

Too many variables and at the center was a little girl who had already made her way into his heart. Comte had no children of his own, and his experience with children limited. Never once had he desired to care for one until he saw those pale green eyes change from fearful to full of life. He couldn’t bring himself to fully give in to her if it meant disrupting the other residents.

He only intended to rest his eyes. Thoughts enraptured in problems stacking upon problems with less solutions to fight against them. The raging storm outside reflected within his own mind. The longer they kept her, the harder it would be for her to part with them. The right answer alluding him at every turn.

Morning light spilled over into the bedroom, bringing warmth to the room. Sky without any lingering dark clouds of the intense storm. Birds chirped a happy tune, signaling a better day than the one before. Even the sun peeking over the horizon gave a promise to be brighter and warmer.

Comte awoke to the serene moment, content to simply listen to the birds sing beyond the windowpane for a little longer. As he moved to shift his legs, a weight that hadn’t been there the previous night prohibited it. Golden eyes slid open, unsure of what to expect.

Beneath a silken blanket, Alara sat on his lap, cheek pressed against him. Her breathing soft but she slept soundly, clutching his other arm to her as if it were her only lifeline. Black hair messy and tangled from the blanket shifting around it. Either the storm or her nightmares had woken her, and she chose to seek comfort with him.

“You’ve seen too much for your age,” Comte spoke quietly to her, petting her head. There were quite a few problems with her being in the mansion, but perhaps he could smooth them all over. As he lifted his palm to stroke her hair again, the girl woke with a start.

Pale green eyes wide with fright and confusion. She tried to slide away from him, memory fuzzy. Most mornings in her home had been lonely, and if anyone were there, it did not bode well for her. Without realizing, Alara had pulled away too much and slipped nearly completely off his legs.

Comte reacted inhumanly quick, leaning forward and catching her before she fell into the floor. “You’re alright, Alara. No more harm will come to you,” he assured as he placed her back onto his lap. “We slept a little late this morning. I’m confident that breakfast is waiting.”

The fear lingering in her eyes began dissipating and, in its place, a bit of anticipation. Her eyes flickered to the door as someone rapped on it before opening it. The way she recoiled to hide herself from view was bittersweet. Her openness to be comfortable with Comte, yet afraid of it crumbling down around her.

“I have purchased clothes more suited for her as requested. It will be delivered later in the day. However, I brought this for her to wear today.” Sebastian held up a beautiful, coral rose dress made of the finest materials that one could buy. “I’ll see to her getting dressed.”

He’d promised to do so, but once alone with the girl, it seemed an arduous task. Sebastian laid the dress on the bed along with the socks and shoes he’d picked out to best go with the outfit before addressing the child ducked down on the other side of the bed. “Please come out from there Miss Alara.”

“I can do it myself!” She dressed herself every day. The maids taking the time to teach her how in order to not have to do it themselves. As long as no buttons were out of reach, Alara had confidence that this task could be completed.

“I’ll wait outside, then.” Sebastian wavered at the door. He couldn’t allow her to cause herself harm, but at the same time, pushing her would only put a rift between their relationship. Should Comte decide to adopt the girl into the home, it would become his duty to oversee her needs met.

With the door almost completely closed, Alara peeked over the top of the bed to be sure that he’d gone. Satisfied that the room was empty, she rounded the bed and observed the dress up close. Her fingers dragged across the material, softer than she’d ever felt before. Nothing like the coarse and uncomfortable dress that her stepfather bought for her.

No buttons were in her way. The dress slid easy over her head and she only struggled for a moment to get her arms through the fitted cuffs at the bottom of the sleeves. Alara plopped onto the floor, falling onto her back as she tugged and pulled the white sock over her small foot, then repeated with the other.

The final touch, a pair of black shoes with a strap that looped around her ankle and buckled to the other side. She’d been taught how to do it, but it had always proved hard. After a few minutes of struggle, the girl simply tucked the end of the strap through and thought it to be fine.

“All done,” Alara announced to an empty hallway. That man was a butler, so he must have something else to do. All the staff at her stepfather’s home worked all day long and never stopped. Cleaning, cooking, delivering. She shrugged her shoulders and began down the hall. The kitchen and dining hall were down the stairs somewhere, so she must be going in the right direction.

A door ajar caught her attention, as all the others were tightly closed. A room filled with more books and interesting treasures than she had ever seen before drew her in. A haphazard mess, but a beautiful one. Books were stacked taller than she stood, paintings and maps stuffed all in between. Whose room would this be?

Atop one of the stacks, a shiny necklace laid in plain sight. Curiosity took over, as no one was around to see, and she reached up to take it. Nothing supported the tower books and the slightest shift caused the entire thing to lean towards her, ready to bury her beneath it’s hard covers.

Though Alara squeezed her eyes shut and covered her head, the anticipated pain never hit her. Instead, the overwhelming smell of cigarettes filled the space.

“That was a close one, wasn’t it?” The man holding back the stack of books had appeared from the other side of the pile. He imagined this must the girl that had caused the big commotion. Such a slight but beautiful child. Only half awake, he’d barely caught it, and hadn’t realized that his lazy expression was being misconstrued as an unhappy glare.

Alara took a step back, pale green eyes wide with many emotions, but the most present one being fear. Who was this man? Why was he sleeping on the floor? Would he be angry with her for invading his room? How much trouble was she in? The only men she’d known to smoke were her stepfather’s so-called friends.

“Scusa, - hey, wait-”

The words barely reached the child that started to bolt from the room. Being startled by a stranger had scared her at first but being reprimanded for entering a room that didn’t belong to her brought about the most distress. Alara spotted a figure ahead that she recognized from the previous night. “Arthur!”

The writer turned at the call of his name, lighting up with a smile for a brief moment until he noted the frantic state, she was in. “What’s the matter?” He couldn’t fathom what might have startled her so.

“Pick me up!” She rose up onto the balls of her feet, arms outstretched and begging for it. He’d protected her last night and she did quite like his accent, so a sense of familiar safety came from being around him.

“You don’t need to try to climb me,” Arthur chuckled as he did as she wanted. His gaze flickered from her to Leonardo’s room where she’d come out of. He must have been sleeping in an odd place and accidentally scared her. What good fun. With the girl’s legs locked around his waist and thin arms so tight around his neck, Arthur patted her back. “I’ll wager that Leonardo isn’t as frightening as you think he is.”

Leonardo emerged from his bedroom, brushing his hand through his hair. “I had no intentions of scaring you, cara mia.” He’d only heard the story of what happened second hand, and grossly underestimated how timid and fragile her mindset was.

The only response given was a soft whine as she hid her face in Arthur’s neck and tightened her grip on him. “Scary.” Her whisper soft enough that only the writer caught it, to which he found quite amusing.

“This is quite the predicament you’ve gotten yourself into.” Arthur grinned at the other vampire. He wanted to bring her down for breakfast just like this. A triumphant entrance as he’d boast that he’d won her trust. “I hadn’t a clue you liked to torture young ones.”

“I saved her from a stack of books about to collapse on top of her. That’s the opposite of torture. I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

No response came.

Leonardo tried speaking to her as they walked down to the dining hall. She refused to even look at him, only responding to Arthur when he asked her an unrelated question. He sighed in defeat as they reached the main door. It would take some time to recover from this incident.

A truly bad first impression.

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unkemptcastiel · 4 years

Text

SPN Finale

I try to limit w/ank on this blog so in the midst of reblogging posts that share my discontentment for the series ending, I don't want to end this show on sole negativity, because it means so much to me. So I'm gonna sum up my feelings on the ending, good and bad. Then I’m going to try to focus on having fun, reblogging memes and reliving good memories with the show and the fandom.

Good:

As far as the show has communicated, everyone is happy. Dean, Sam, Bobby, Rufus, John & Mary, Cas, all apparently happy. Yay!

I like that heaven's walls were taken down. That's something that never felt right to me and seemed indicative of heaven's problems in general- like the fact that everything was so harshly ordered to the point of isolating humans in farces of happiness-bubbles of recreated memories, that all just felt a bit fake and like a symptom of the larger problem of how angels viewed and treated humans. So I'm happy they changed that! :)

I like Betty as new Death.

OH I also liked the brief re-intro of the two archangels. It may have been a little wasted, (but this is the positivity section!) but it was a dynamic I wanted to see for ages. Also lucifer calling michael a cuck: Amazing.

I'm glad Jack didn't die. He's my son and I love him.

Also the thing with the dog & chuck.. pure comedy gold. Amazing.

Confusing:

I'm a little confused what happens to the dimensional "repeat" characters, like.. are there two bobby's chilling next door to each other in heaven, of bobby and apocalypse-world bobby? It's not a huge issue it just wasn't really addressed.

I'm also wondering if angels are basically extinct now? Like Cas is apparently ok but last we heard there were like 7 whole angels left. How's that goin. Hello?

I'm assuming hell is operating per usual? It's been a while since we've seen Rowena but I think she's still running things. A little unsure of where the balance lies between heaven and hell just due to how decimated the angels are.

I'm assuming Jody, and Alex, and Claire and all them are good? Would've liked a check-in of some sort on the recurring characters tbh. There was a lot of me and my friend asking "... So what happened to them?" about side characters who we never really got any goodbye for.

Also same with Amara being kinda written off.

Speaking of, was the woman Sam ended up with Eileen?? It was unclear to me. If not, I wish they would've mentioned her; she's a character I care about a lot.

Bad (Let’s say “Critique”):

The shows writing has dipped each season imo, and this season often felt particularly hollow. I'm not quite sure how to better communicate it beyond... The way it was shot, the dialogue, every behind-the-scenes choice just felt... Off. It was very off-putting, all season for me.

The "Destiel" thing: I’m sorry, it still felt queerbaiting. I'm queer myself but I've never personally really shipped destiel, nor any ship amongst the main trio. So, while not being very invested in a romantic form of Dean+Cas's relationship, I still felt that the confession was used more as a last-minute ploy to attract queer fans who may have since left the show, or in some attempt to make everyone happy, make it ambiguous so both queer and het fans wouldn't feel like their understanding of dean & cas was infringed on. I understand that, from a show-ending perspective, especially from a show that owes so much to its fans, that they'd want to please everybody. Unfortunately, queer representation is still lacking enough that anything outside of clear, unambiguous GAY that no one could argue is anything else, is still sort of regressive and potentially harmful to the LGBTQ+ community. So it ended up feeling like a throw-away, last-minute-gays but still semi-hetero cop-out situation, sadly. (I also think the release of the script was very deliberate in stressing that Dean cannot reciprocate whatever feelings Cas has. It communicated to me "MAYBE a non-human character could be ambiguously-maybe-queer but one of the two leads? Absolutely not.")

On that note --perhaps as a result of the confession scene-- the boys' relationship with Cas felt really weird in the end. For someone they've known and fought with for 12 years, the idea that they wouldn't even look for a way to save him ... It felt OOC, painting Dean and Sam as kind of heartless. I also feel that having Cas saved off-screen and never reappearing on-screen was generally.. a little disrespectful to Misha. His performance of Castiel literally changed the show for the rest of its run (if you're unaware, he was supposed to have a few episodes in s4 and that's it. His performance floored fans so much that he was signed on as a recurring character and eventual series main). So treating him as an afterthought felt callous, both in-show-universe and out here in the real world, show business-wise.

I don't care that Dean was killed by "a nail." I don't care lol. As long as the character didn't die of dysentery or something it doesn't read as stupid or humiliating, imo. I saw it and was like "ye shit happens." And Sam left to live a normal life- Good! My boy’s happy.

My primary issue with how Dean & Sam's lives and deaths went was this:

They make the entire show seem pointless.

To explain: the way that Sam and Dean's lives were going before the events of the pilot were: Dean is hunting primarily on his own, Sam is lined up to live a normal and happy life and eventually start a family of his own. It is discussed many times early-seasons that Dean expects to die early, due to the dangers of hunting, even though it is revealed that he also deeply wants a safe and happy life, he feels it is unattainable. Sam loves his family, but just wants out, and is getting to have that.

Usually in fiction, if an arc is set up then change is to occur to resolve the arc in a new and hopefully better place than it was originally. 15x20 however, looked at s1 Dean and Sam and said "Yep you guessed it exactly right." In-universe, their lives were on these paths once Sam left and went to college, which was a pre-pilot event. The "inciting incident" of the show, which acts as the pilot and which causes the rest of the show to happen in the first place, is Sam leaving his path for normality and returning to hunting. By ending this show with Dean dying on a hunt like he always expected, and Sam leaving to live a normal life with a family like he always originally planned: this arc is negated. We’re basically put right back in a pre-pilot spn world.

This ending was all already lined up to happen pre-pilot. This was ALREADY going to be their lives before the show ever started in 2005-- as a result, the show's events were just a bunch of messiness and conflict in the middle; but spn still ended for the boys the way it would have if basically all the events of the show 2005-2020 just never happened.

So it makes the show seem superfluous, and to me as a viewer it felt insulting because it felt like we ended right where we started, or we went backwards, and it implied that it was a waste of time to even watch the show if it was always going to end the same no matter what events transpired in between. THAT'S what upset me by this ending.

tl;dr: The show's writing felt rushed, confused, and emotionally hollow. As such, we didn't get to see much on the many side characters we care about, which was disappointing. The disappearance of Cas made him seem insignificant and the way each brother's life went was exactly as they were going before the events of the pilot, thus their lives were filled with extra needless pain and turmoil before ending the way they always expected, making the entirety of the show's events and its existence seem useless. Because I loved these characters and invested near a decade into them, this feels insulting to me on the characters' behalf, and on my own behalf as a viewer. That's my issue with the 15x20 ending.

However, I still take more positivity out of this show as a whole than negativity. I’m grateful it even existed in the first place, and that is what I want to try to focus on. 15x20 is one episode. Are there more episodes I dislike? Sure. But they are still a minority in a show that will hold my love for.. the forseeable future. So to every fan, those who disliked the ending and those who loved it, you’re valid, I’m glad I got to know some of you, &

#15x20 #supernatural #finale #spn spoilers #review #positivity #negativity #critique

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urkpoppsychic · 4 years

Text

Pentagon messages/personality + lovelife + career reading

Pentagon 9/25/20 my first pentagon reading! I didnt include E-dawn but i will make a reading about him and Hyuna.

Reminders it is reading is for entertaining purposes and for my own personal growth it might not be 100% accurate just move on. thanks and enjoy ✨💝

Hui: prideful, He likes to plan things with friends and family but is not attached by high expectations. He would rather avoid disappointing situations. He is loyal, generous, when it comes to emotions and social relationships. He is financially stable, and a stable mindset.

Lovelife: He might be single right now, he gets on dates like blinddates or dating sites, and with no intentions. He likes to meet people. He is not really looking for a commitment right now but he wants to take romantic situations light and fun.

How he feels about his career now?: He feels hurt, being stabbed in his back. With an argument or any sort of conflict. It's about his position, it might be disharmony and disappointments have been part of the issue.

Jinho: He might feel fear of abandonment, rejection and betrayal. Thinking about the worst scenario. He might not always stick with one idea or opinion. He might change it anytime soon. He is being on guard and might overwork himself. Loss in control.

Love life: He might be in a romantic relationship, where there is no independence, he relies too much on his lover, but luck is on his side cus the person seems to be a good partner for him and that will bring a lot of new challenges and new offers. Teamwork will balance their relationship to the positives.

How he feels about his career now?: He might also feel a little hurt but he has recovered from it and there is a new passionate beginning for him. He still has passion for his job. What had hurt him in the past was something that was beyond his control. He is depending on his agency. He is trying to forgive and move on from it.

Hongseok: This person has an introverted personality, he loves to be alone but still hates to be lonely. He is a very competitive and hard working person. When he is overworking he might isolate himself quickly because he has the urge to solve and do everything on his own. He might not be used to someone's help. He might be also a bit messy when it comes to his room.

Love life: I see that he is single, He is thinking and daydreaming about having a girlfriend. Interest in this kind of idea and want to forget all the past experiences and forgive and want to make room for a new opportunity for love. He might have a crush or interest in someone from the same agency.

How he feels about his career now?: He struggles at the moment and might have now lack of vision about his career. He might feel things aren't clear, no honesty. Only exciting thing for him is that he might see his crush at work.

Shinwon: He fears for failure and is stuck with the thoughts of ruining it. He might be worried a lot these days. He might feel anger towards his entire team and work environment he is thinking of breaking away from it. He is being on guard and cautious. He is a child at heart and a fun person to be around. He is creative and sweet. But maybe emotional immature.

Love life: He is in love with someone who is known as an elegant, very charming and attractive woman. It could be someone in the music industry. Someone who might be older or the same age. It could also mean that the relationship is moving forward and that the person might live in a different city. Or even different countries. He is charging the relationship and he is hoping to commit with her very soon.

How he feels about his career: I might have a feeling he is thinking about to leave the company. He might want to do something different, he might have new dreams and want to use his creativity.

Yeo One: He is confident and stable, he has a lot of talents and might be playful rather than serious. He might have some authority in him and is working on his self-growth. He supports other members when he sees someone is in struggle. He wants to see the best in everyone and he is someone who will wake up from ur daydreams and focus on reality and give you a warm speech to not giving up.

Love life: He might feel his effort to her was not enough, he feels disappointments and lack of passion. He feels defensive and might not like the idea how it turned out. The woman is taking it for granted but he is not enough. He wants the truth and honesty. He will end this very soon.

How he feels about his career: He might feel trapped in ideas of expectations. He might choose something that he might be in fear of regretting it. . Feeling stuck in crossroads. No big actions.

Yanan: This person has a clear mindset, he doesn't have any worries, he has a lot of freedom to move. He is not a slave of his own thoughts. He might run a lot away from reality in the past but he understands that he can't always force himself to avoid mental challenges. He feels bored and dissatisfied. He is looking for an opportunity, a choice no matter the path he will choose, it is good and it ends well.

Love life: indecision, He doesn't know if what he will choose is going to turn out well. He is slowly taking his time to know this person, He sees home and family with that person. The lover could be he or she and is a social butterfly, full of energy (active). Yanan might be a traditional person when it comes to dating. If he is thinking about dating he also thinks further like marriage.

How he feels about his career: I see that he still has a passion for the member / someone from work who shows a bit of negative traits. Manipulative? Laziness? Insecurities? Feeling left out in the cold by that person.

Yuto: He stays with the same ongoing cycle, he refuses to change.. He might be bored as well and a bit jealous. He might come over bold and bad mouthed but he is actually very gentle and stable, He might be a good father figure. But he might feel a little jealous about others and feel dissatisfied.

Love life: IZONE Member :O

How does he feel about his career?: He analyzes his challenge, he is smart with it, he is quick with ideas. Ambition, misalignment with the values. He might have to deal with a secret relationship.

Kino: He might feel like giving up, he might feel overwhelmed by criticism and responsibility. He is perfectionistic A mentor or someone who he looks up to isn't really honest and unclear with helping him. It dissatisfied him and he might not feel to work hard. He is cautious and feels to distance himself from the situation.

Love life: single, focus on other things.

How does he feel about his career?: He wants to stay positive and optimistic. There is maybe somebody involved with their team that might cause some trouble. The road for his career looks stagnant. It caused hurt in the past but he is trying to forgive and recover from it.

Wooseok: He has strong willpower, confidence and is competitive. He might stress and carry burdens on his back. He really wants to keep going and it will make him work hard and burden and stress grows. The music that was driving him, a desire that helped him, no longer is the sound of your mission. He might just be going through the motions and getting through the day. He is honest, intelligent. Nurturing and having love for nature.

Love life: He is love sick, totally in love with someone, he will put her on a pedestal, The energy of that person feels to me very popular and famous and attractive and a great personality. He might be a bit younger and a bit immature but he is willing to take a romantic offer for her. He is losing his control of his emotion. He can no longer hold it back. G-idle?

How does he feel about his career: Feeling dependent on the agency, feeling bored and dissatisfied, wanting a bit more action and passion. But he stays open minded with objective thoughts. He seeks professional advice. He feels corrupt.

#pentagon #reading #kpoppredictions #career #love #lovelife #kpop #wooseok #kino #yuto #yanan #yeo one #shinwon #hongseok #Jinho #hui #messages

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awed-frog · 5 years

Note

If I may ask, what do you think of the whole sea watch 3 mess? And indeed of the whole migrant situation in Italy?

Well - I have messy thoughts about that. Mostly I’m angry, disgusted, worried and pretty hopeless about the whole thing.

As a recap for people who haven’t been following this (complicated stuff ahead, so I don’t claim to be right about everything):

1) In 1990, the EU decided on how to deal with migrants by drafting the Dublin Regulation, which came into effect in 1997. The idea was charmingly simple: people seeking refuge in Europe should ask for asylum in the first European country they got to. Optimists claim it was difficult back then to imagine any complications, since immigration was very low and European countries still had borders and everything else, but in hindsight, you have to wonder why countries like Italy agreed to this at all. You obviously can’t get to Germany or the UK without crossing through Italy or Spain first, so the Dublin Regulation was bound to cause huge problems. The other ridiculous thing is that the Italian government that signed this was headed by Andreotti, a nearly immortal ghoul princeling who’d been in politics since the 1750s and had been implicated in at least two murders.

(He’d also been found guilty of collaboration with the mafia, but was let go on a technical detail.)

2) In 2011, Muammar Gaddafi, ‘Brotherly Leader’ of Libya, was killed. We still don’t know exactly what went down - more on that in a second - but a general problem the West has in the Middle East and Africa is that we tend to support dictatorts, no matter how brutal, because it’s just easier to do business and get our way with one greedy and corrupt person than it is to deal with an entire Parliament, but the risk we overlook, time and time again, is that all-powerful dictators tend to become more and more ambitious and form their own plans, which may or may not align with Western interests. In the case of Gaddafi, Hilary’s emails (I know, I know) seem to indicate the real reason the West - and particularly France, as in former President Nicholas ‘I’m the son of an immigrant but he was the right kind of immigrant’ Sarkozy - suddenly got annoyed with Gaddafi is that Gaddafi was planning to introduce a new banking system in Africa - a thing that would rival the CFA franc.

(That’s a currency used in fourteen African countries which is basically a leftover from French colonialism - it’s managed directly from the French Treasury, and that gives France more or less full control of those countries’ economies).

So anyway, NATO got all tough on Libya, Gaddafi was killed, and as a result Libya is now a failed state with - if that’s possible - more human rights violations than before - particularly relevant for your question is a very harsh treatment of black Africans (down to and including literal ‘slave markets’ where people are bought and sold, also torture camps and everything in between). This happens partly because it’s lucrative af, and partly because there’s been bad blood between ethnic Arabs and black Africans for generations.

So, aynway, that’s the general context. What happened next is what we’ve seen for the last few years - an increase in the number of immigrants coming to Europe, therefore an increase of the number of deaths in the Mediterranean, therefore widespread panic leading to

immoral and unethical deals with people like Erdogan (I say ‘people’, lol)

a sharp rise of the extreme right and

a general inability to welcome those desperate enough to come here and offer them a decent life.

Most recently, Italy’s far-right Interior Minister decided to close down the harbours to prevent NGOs-operated rescue ships from docking. The Sea-Watch 3, which was carrying 42 migrants, decided to ignore this and go to Lampedusa, in Sicily - the closest and safest harbour. Now its captain has been arrested, but it’s unclear what will happen next.

If you’re asking me what do I make of all this - I don’t know. It’s a mess.

For instance, there are studies showing that if NGO ships patrol international waters, the crossing gets more dangerous, because people smugglers don’t bother finding good ships - they know they just have to get migrants off the coast of Libya, and someone will pick them up. This means more risk for the immigrants themselves, and more money for the smugglers. But on the other hand, no rescue ships there means no help at all, so if something goes wrong, those people are doomed. The same ‘yes but’ applies to many other issues concerning migration. Like, a lot of migrants coming in (and these are people who were left with nothing, including ID) means more of them disappearing into thin air, because of the badly-organized and overcrowded camps. We know thousands of them end up exploited by criminal gangs - in Italy, a particularly brutal business is managed by the Nigerian mafia, which trafficks thousands of women into prostitution and terrifies them into obedience thanks to ‘black magic’, but there’s also agricultural workers, people forced into drug trafficking, kids who end up homeless and so on. Another major problem is that - other than the Syrians - the immigrants who got to Europe over the last decade are difficult to integrate into the legit labour market because they lack the necessary qualifications. Most of the European is now tertiary-based, which means you need some kind of post-high school diploma to do anything, and research shows about half of those coming here didn’t even finish primary school.

(To be very clear: I’m not saying this is in any way their fault, or something that can’t be fixed. But: it does encourage a battle of the have-nots, as people at the bottom - including chunks of the native population, immigrants from Eastern Europe and more recent immigrants from the rest of the world - compete for those few and miserable options open to them, like run-down housing, meagre welfare checks, and a handful of jobs you don’t need qualifications for.)

On top of that, many migrants would need a lot of support, because they escaped from horrific situations - not only those torture camps in Libya, but everything else you can think of: civil wars, political persecution, brutal rapes, whatever - that’s also something that has a cost no one wants to cover. And finally, since coming to Europe is so dangerous, most immigrants tend to be young men on their own - which is exactly the ‘worst’ group of people in any culture.

(Sorry if that sounds bad, what I mean is - we know that for whatever reason, young men everywhere tend to be more reckless than other social groups, and that increases the chance for risky behaviour - especially when the person is not ‘kept in check’ by a well-structured community. Thus, a young man without family or friends is more likely to make stupid or dangerous choices - for himself or others - than, say, a middle-aged father or a young woman.)

All of this, as daunting as it is, could be solved - after all, this is not an invasion: it’s numbers we can manage - but probably won’t because:

1) There’s some interest in keeping the situation as it is. More migrants means more political success for right-wing and extreme right parties, not to mention huge profits for a lot of people.

2) Right now, the EU can’t agree on anything because of reasons.

3) Nobody wants to do the right thing, ie treat Middle Eastern and African countries with a modicum of respect and actually support them and their development instead of propping up whatever strongman is convenient and robbing their citizens of whatever isn’t nailed down.

4) The countries on the EU borders have their own issues and right now it’s very hard to imagine those issues ever going away. Like, under many respects Italy’s basically a failed state that relies on the goodwill of half its citizens to keep trudging forward. It never rooted out clientelism, corruption, or tax evasion - plus, it still hasn’t defeated its own mafias, and despite an exceedingly brave and dedicated bunch of policemen and judges (plus all those ordinary citizens risking their necks every day by saying no and living an honest life), the battle against foreign mafias (like the Albanians, and more recently the Nigerians) is probably a task beyond its means.

So, well - sorry this turned into a novel. I guess what I think is - I admire people like Sea-Watch 3 captain Carola Rackete and everyone else who volunteers and fights for the most vulnerable, and I think the current government is a disgrace, but ultimately immigration is a political problem whose only solution is the usual solution to everything else: more courage, more competence, more transparency; less inequality, less greed, less corruption. More democracy, and a democracy operating without the (overt and covert) influence of powerful lobbies. Less support to dictators, fair wages for workers and fair prices for raw materials - even if that includes higher prices for Western consumers. And, above all, more regulations and less power to corporations and stakeholders.

Very few people actually want to leave their homes, but if we keep forcing them out, then they’ll keep fleeing - with all the consequences that entails.

#ask #sea watch 3 #carola rackete #immigration #italy #eu #sorry for the lack of sources #it's still very hot here #my brain's melting #but everything is googlable #there shouldn't be anything weird at all #long post for ts #somehow the 'cut here' doesn't work anymore??#sorry guys!#you can press j to skip things though

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heechulhamster · 5 years

Text

Two Way - Minseok

Kim Minseok x Reader - Drabble

Coffeeshop!AU, FLUFF. (this is as fluff as I could go)

1,560 words.

This is my drabble for the sunshine of my life’s Birthday. I can’t believe how he’s already 29 but I look older than him. Happy Birthday Fairy Xiumin! I love you soooo much. ^.^

———

Grabbing your bag in a hurry, you almost sprinted outside your dorm. You can’t afford to be late today as there was a long test on the first subject. And the professor is known to be one of the most strict when it comes to attendance and punctuality.

You weren’t sure how you looked but you knew just where you will check. There is this random mirror against a wall on the street of your dormitory. Behind the wall is a cafe, but you weren’t sure why there’s just a huge vanity on the brick wall near its back door. It was a peculiar setting yet you always found yourself taking a peek of your fashion choices of the day - or lack thereof.

Passing by the said mirror, you halted to a stop and assessed yourself out. There you saw your shirt tucked the wrong way in front and that your hair is a bit too messy to be considered chic, so you hurriedly fixed it.

God, you’re just so thankful for whoever placed that mirror no matter how unusual their life choices are.

Today was a particularly good day for you. The Sunday dress you wore told a story of happiness with its outburst of vibrant colors. You were invited by your friends to come on a dinner with them as a celebration of overcoming the last wave of examinations and requirements. And you, too, reward yourself with dressing up nicely. You deserve a break from the shirt and jeans that just screamed stressed out college student.

As if in automatic mode, you slowed down walking by the brick wall again. This time you stood directly in front of it, examining the effort that was made earlier. How you nicely put on your barely there makeup, the cute ballet shoes that accented your dress, and the pearl decorated barette clips that adorned your hair. Sometimes you wonder how on Earth you were single.

It was unclear to Minseok how he found himself staring outside the heavily tinted window of the cafe that he owned. All he knew that he was waiting for someone to pass by again. He was waiting for you.

Somehow, he just became a fan of your daily fashion shows in the back of his store. He wonders if you ever realize that the mirror was a heavy tinted two way glass, but he couldn’t complain. You were a refreshing sight for him, after all.

He finds it adorable how you strike some quirky poses whenever you wear cute fluffy sweaters. Or the way you turn around in your jeans as if checking every little detail of where it fitted perfectly. Minseok even finds himself smiling back when you try and practice your smile on the “mirror.” Looking out for you has become a part of his daily schedules as much as you looking in is part of yours.

And like an answered prayer, you came walking down in a dress he never seen you wear before. Looking like a bright ray of sunshine as you twirl around in front of the faux mirror. A smile crept onto his face as he watches you, he felt like a creep but he just can’t help watching you. Seeing you was definitely one of the small triumphs and highlights of Minseok’s simple day.

You weren’t exactly the coffee kind of person. You preferred the light taste of tea, but today was an exception. You craved the kick of caffeine with the sweetness of milk. The nearest coffeeshop to your place, as far as you could remember, was the one with the peculiar brick wall behind it so that’s where your feet took you.

The sign on the door read “Serving 7:00 AM to 10:00 PM!” which reflexively triggered you to look on your wristwatch. It’s only a quarter before ten, ensuing an internal battle in your mind whether to still ask for a serving when you knew the shop is already preparing to close.

But 15 minutes is still 15 minutes so you pushed the door open, releasing a wave of welcoming aroma of coffee beans straight to your senses. The place gave off vintage vibes, a wall had a honeycomb-like book shelf and the place was lit up by filament bulbs. All over, it was a warm and cozy aesthetic that you wouldn’t mind have all over your Instagram feed.

Then your eye caught a man over the counter, his back was against you as he seemed to be washing some utensils that already called it a day. Beside the counter was an almost empty pastry showcase except for one lonely lemon cheesecake that was waiting for its buyer.

“Can I still order or you’re closing already?” You voiced out into the quiet air only filled by a few clinks and clanks of the utensils.

The man all too suddenly and swiftly faced you. It was hard to take in his features due to the fast motion but your body already reacted even before you could fully comprehend how he looked. And damn right he was gorgeous. His eyes could tell a plethora of emotions more than others could, and that was just his eyes! You swallowed in attempt to regain your senses.

“Oh of course yes, I was only preparing to close but not just yet-“ His face painted a shock as if he suddenly recognized you. “Oh, it’s you.” And the sudden shift from shocked expression to a soft ones messed with the butterfly biome in the pits of your tummy.

“I’m sorry? Have we met?” You clarified his expression.

“No, no. Nevermind.” He shook his head with a gummy smile on his face. “So what would you like to drink?”

You scanned over the chalkboard menu and decided. “Just one hot caramel machiatto.”

“On your way Miss...” He trailed of as if asking for your name which you willingly gave. He wrote it on a papercup and asked you to sit down for a meanwhile.

You just admired how he worked with a smile on his face. It seemed like he was really passionate on brewing cups of energy boosters, unlike most working students that loathe every hour they spend on an apron in a cafe. Watching him make your cup of coffee already energizes you.

It was then your eyes trailed off to the wall behind the chalkboard menu. You expected a solid wall on the back part of the cafe yet there was a huge window-like glass panel on it. You recognized the outside as you can see, it was the street towards your place. You’re a hundred percent certain that this glass is where the mirror was supposed to be. Holy heck.

The cat eyed man put the coffee cup in front of you followed by the lonely cheesecake in the showcase earlier. He smiled with pursed lips which just highlighted his fluffy cheeks.

“I didn’t order this.” You said with an awkward smile.

“Yeah, it’s for free. It would be sad to throw away a single slice.” He said with a smile. You threw a quick look on the nametag in his shirt pocket.

“Thank you, Minseok.” He adorably answered a salute and turned back to walk away when you remembered the glass window situation.

“Uhm, has that window always been there?” You said, pointing over the area of concern.

Minseok let out a small chuckle, “Yes, it has always been there. Although it doesn’t actually look like a window outside....” He looked to you with a wide smile as if testing if you knew what he was pertaining to.

“It’s a mirror, from outside.” You continued.

You felt a heat of blush wash over your face as you realized everything you did in front of the said “mirror.” How you take a closer look on your smudged mascara, twirl a little bit on the sight of your new skirt, and even check out how good your butt looked in your pants. Only to realize that you looked like a television feature inside a coffee shop.

“So you’ve seen...” Minseok just threw you a quick smile before letting out a small laugh. “Oh God this is embarrassing.” You covered your face with both of your hands.

“I must say that you have a shot at fashion modelling. Glad the mirror is two way.” He mocked which made you hide your face more.

“I’m going to die in embarrasment how could I not realize...”

“You can’t die, where will I get my daily fashion updates now?” He let out another chuckle, one that was undeniably addictive and could be considered a music to the ears.

“But jokes aside, you really looked good on that dress yesterday, and...” It looks like he hesitated in following his words, but he still continued. “I’d gladly take you out on a date in that one. If you want to.”

A rise of blood rushed into your cheeks. “Is that you asking me out on a date?”

“I mean, I technically can’t ask you out for coffee, can’t I?”

It was needless to say that after that night, you walked in front of the said mirror with a little more intention than just checking yourself out -you were more of letting him check you out. And the last slice of the lemon cheesecake wasn’t lonely in vain but one reserved, always for you.

#xiumin #exo #xiumin imagine #xiumin fanfic #xiumin fluff #xiumin scenario #xiumin fanfiction #exo xiumin #exo imagine #exo fluff #exo fanfic #minseok imagine #minseok fanfic #minseok #kin minseok #minseok scenario #coffeshop au #HAPPY BIRTHDAY MINSEOK

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fieldbears · 5 years

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Washed-Up Stucky MNF/Fic Writer Provides Endgame Opinions

I’m going to try to tackle this linearly, at least to begin with:

I am very much Team Bored With MCU Hawkeye, but I want to give sincere props for the cold open, which I think accomplished several things simultaneously: recapped the consequences of the last film (since, hey, it’s been a fuckin while), set the tone, and began Clint’s narrative arc.

That said, jesus, I’m still irritated by the shoe-horned family to begin with. First they were invented for convenience and narrative stakes, and then their final, ultimate reason for existence was to be temporarily fridged. Take a moment to imagine a world where Clint was the circus runaway loner he was supposed to be, who only had his coworkers as found family, who either responded to The Snap by throwing himself harder into his teamwork work OR went rogue because his sense of justice and agency was so fucking destroyed by what happened. He didn’t need a blood family to have the arc he had. And he didn’t even need the arc he had. But this is a bitchfest about a choice made many years ago, not made in this final movie.

The first third of that movie was rough. The whole thing had the narrative flow of “A Series of Related Short Stories Played One After the Other”, but the first third seems to be Failing To Establish the New World and then Clumsily Establishing The Emerging Situation.

The establishing shots and scenes to show the audience what The Snap’s consequences were worldwide were... lacking. It’s dark? No more baseball? People are relying on natural light instead of interior lighting, but this is also happening at Avengers HQ, where they clearly still have power and internet access to work their tech, so... was it just an aesthetic choice? I feel like the film tried to spend time showing us what the consequences were for the average New Yorker, but instead we get a weird Canonly Gay Russo Character who gave a good performance that tells us about the human loss but not about the mechanics of this new world. We get the ‘no baseball’ shot and all we get afterward are ‘people miss the missing people’. But restaurants still exist? Businesses are functioning? (Wouldn’t New York run kind of smoother if it wasn’t overpopulated?) I feel like we were invited to start thinking about how this dystopia works, but were never given answers. (There are so many interpretations of how things could go wrong if certain people just disappeared, and their knowledge/access were suddenly unavailable, and none of it was explored, even briefly, outside of establishing shots.)

The Garden Planet - it’s discovery, the traveling to it, the fight there - lacked emotional grounding in a way I find hard to explain. The audience was excited for Brie Larson being a fucking boss, and the quick execution of the grab-him-and-cut-his-arm-off plan was satisfying, but the twist and subsequent letdown was just a weird beat after a slog to get there, after waiting on a deep letdown beat from the last movie.

Last thing about flow and emotional beats, because I want to move on to character analysis, and this is a huge one for me: Clint’s fight in Tokyo and Steve’s fight with himself were some of the biggest missed opportunities in the entire film.

Not counting the football field brawl at the end, which I don’t count as a real fight scene, these are the two major fight scenes of the entire film and as far as I can tell, there was no effort made to make these showpieces. They went to the trouble of bringing Clint to Bladerunner Central, and pit him against the last bastion of aesthetic-obsessed mafia in the world. The panning camera in the interior as Hawkeye fought goons brushed past lazy fight scenes that only showed who was winning, not the brutality that Clint was supposedly falling into, not the grit of this new awful world, just... shapeless dark bodies getting thrown through windows? And on top of that, they could have made up (or picked from canon) any Big Bad to pit him against outside in the street, and we get an Orientalist sword fight that could have fit in nicely on a CW superhero show, and some of the most unnecessary exposition dialogue I have ever heard. Someone bothered to weave Clint’s arc in earlier, with Rhodey explaining to Natasha that Clint’s gone International and also Worryingly Dark. Why the fuck do we have the ‘I’ll give you anything you want’ line, on the rotten cherry on top of ‘stop being mean to the yakuza, we didn’t start it’? You already covered his motivations with the cold open.

And while Steve’s fight ended in a FABULOUSLY HEARTBREAKING WAY, the fight itself was nothing - you can pick little character details out like how they both ditched their shields almost immediately, and it was funny that Then-Steve mistook Now-Steve for Loki in the first place, but it was still a completely lost opportunity to get one true superhero battle in this three-hour slog. Both Steves could have gotten up and carried out the rest of the narrative after a decent brawl, but instead they fall a great distance after some blocked shots and it... was nothing? Missed opportunity for some cool shit.

Okay, skipping to character assessments now:

Clint’s character has been mishandled from the beginning and this seemed to be the “better late than never” eleventh hour arc. Except the end of the arc is unclear - it made sense for him to fall apart after losing his Shoehorn Family, but how did Natasha’s choice to fall do anything but fridge someone else, with more agency this time? It makes Natasha noble, which she already was, and it made her win against Clint, which I appreciate, but Natasha didn’t need salvation through death and Clint learns nothing by getting them back, just experiences relief.

Bruce. I want to say, first, that I love Hulk in a Cardigan. Cardihulk can stay. I want fanart, I want t-shirts, give me all of it. But Bruce’s explanation of “I scienced it so I could get the best of both worlds” only gives us half of the acceptance that Banner’s character is already working towards. As we saw most explicitly in Ragnarok, the Hulk isn’t just a physical form, he has his own separate consciousness, originally defined by rage but revealed to be more complicated. Bruce merging into Cardihulk seems to have... erased Hulk’s separate consciousness without merging it into himself? If there had been some acknowledgement of a second voice still within him that shot out opinions or demands for certain menu items in the diner, this would have been a much cleaner end to his arc, which has been equally messy between actor and narrative shifts.

Speaking of Ragnarok... it’s time! Are you ready? Have you read articles about the Gambit Gambit too? Are you fucking depressed that a fat suit was used for comedy gags in the year of our lord 2019? Because I was. The Russos seemed to... not struggle with what progress Ragnarok had put onto Bruce and Thor’s characters, but reject it. This movie’s Thor was anxious for laughs, was desperate for easy answers to a a feeling of lost heroism, and it didn’t feel like a familiar character. The time-travel scene with his mother wrapped it up very elegantly, and was well performed, but that scene didn’t need to follow a series of “chunky drunk in sweatpants” jokes to show us that Thor was struggling. Everyone in the film is fucking holding on by their fingernails, but only one is played for cheap laughs.

At least we get the bisexual Asgard lady king we deserved.

Tony got the right death. He got a hero’s death and Pepper’s last lines of “you can rest now” were exactly the right lines to wrap up an arc characterized by fear and a desire to protect and control at any cost. I knew the MCU was never going to really acknowledge that Tony’s The Problem, even with lines like ‘you should have let me do the fascist robot thing, that was gonna work fine’ thrown around pretty much as soon as he touches down on earth again.

I’m not sure if there’s much to say about Natasha. It was fitting that she was running HQ, that she was struggling, that she was rejecting emotional help from Steve but clearly still close with him. Seeing her break down after hearing the report on Clint felt right after, I think, being told by several directors (or making the personal acting choice? idk) to just be as flat and as decolletagey as possible. And again, while I feel like she would be self-sacrificing on that cliffisde if given the opportunity, and that she would win, the narrative choice to place her there and have that be her end didn’t really give her anything she didn’t already have. She had nothing to prove.

I have a hard time really laying out my thoughts on Steve without launching into the pregnant absence of Bucky, but I’m going to try. Chris Evans did a good job being the emotional heart of a really fractured story with a lot of conflicting pieces. Seeing him lead a talk therapy session after The Snap seemed very out of character for him until one realizes that Sam isn’t there to lead it himself. His scene offering help to Natasha was another good scene between them proving that not every m/f relationship has to be sexual to be interesting or add to the plot. His leadership speech during the Stupid Fucking Slow-Mo Heroes’ Walk to the platform was well done and makes me think of what could have been for the MCU, if they’d ever just let them be a cohesive found-family team for twenty minutes and let them fight some doom-bots or something. Fuck. Imagine.

Something weirdly satisfying about the deceitful ‘hail hydra’ line in the elevator. Yes? Yes.

The hammer scene was satisfying to me without being too gratuitous, but I’ll acknowledge that some people weren’t into it. Having paid more attention to Steve’s arc than most, I’ll argue that he earned it several times over.

His ending - that is, the secret life he alludes to but doesn’t explicitly reveal to Sam - is earned too. I’ve read at least one thing saying that Steve’s arc was all about him learning to let go, but that’s... never what Steve does. Not at the end of any arc, of any comic story, does Steve let go. Not of his principles, not of the people he loves, he is always “Thinking... Thinking About Bucky!” and getting in fights he can’t necessarily win. So I don’t think his final ending is ever Learning to Let Go. I think it’s fair that it’s Just Once, Just This One Time, Getting What You Want And Getting To Enjoy It.

And now I’m backtracking to Bucky. I’ve read one article already that theorizes that Steve’s arc, which was highly prioritized, included literally as little direct interaction with Bucky as possible because... the MCU? the Russos? Marvel?... is aware that Steve/Bucky is the most popular same-sex ship in the MCU. And that’s tiresome as fuck but I think there’s some truth to it. I wonder if, like in Civil War, we’ll hear later from the actors that a lot of contextual one-on-one scenes were shot and then mysteriously cut from the final edit.

I will say that in my head, Bucky is relaxed when Steve goes back in time for the final time, and lets Sam goes to talk with Steve one-on-one at the bench, because Bucky is not worried if Steve will come back, and does not feel a need to check on Steve on the bench. Because, like Peggy, Bucky has been getting secret visits too. Maybe as far back as during his time in Wakanda, but certainly since the final fight with Thanos. Bucky was calm because he already knew. He didn’t miss Steve because Steve hadn’t given him an opportunity to do so.

#mcu #endgame #endgame spoilers #mcu spoilers

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peraltasames · 6 years

Text

if a great wave shall fall

Pairing: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago

Desc: “Amy, sorry to wake you,” Terry says quickly. “There’s an active shooter at the grocery store on St Mark’s...Jake responded to it.”

Notes: title from wherever you will go - the calling (but the charlene soraia version is better). you might cry.

Read on AO3

Jake and Amy’s apartment

12:02 A.M.

Amy jolts awake to the found of her phone ringing. Not her morning alarms, not her eight month old baby, but the distinct sound of the ringtone reserved for one person only - her boss, Captain Terry Jeffords.

She reaches across the bed, the other side still empty, to grab her phone. “Hi, Captain, how can I...” She pauses as she glances over at her alarm clock. She’s not on call to come into work. There is no logical, work-related reason for her captain to be calling at this hour. “Wait, Terry, why are you calling me after midnight?”

“Amy, sorry to wake you,” Terry says quickly. “There’s an active shooter at the grocery store on St Mark’s...Jake responded to it."

After she hears her husband’s name, her world goes completely still for a few seconds. It’s long enough that she doesn’t fully absorb the rest of Terry’s words.

“He...he what?”

“He’s not by himself in there,” she hears him repeat, a bit slower and more gently. “He’s got a good team, all highly trained in situations like this. But we don’t have any updates just yet.”

As Amy’s brain goes into panic mode, she closes her eyes tightly, trying to visualize how to deal with this particular issue. It’s an emergency. Who do I call in an emergency? Jake. Who do I call if Jake is the emergency?

“I’m coming to the precinct,” Amy says, quiet but firm. “I just need to call my brother to come watch Abby.”

“Of course, Amy. I’ll call if I hear anything before you get here.”

She thanks him and ends the call, instantly going into her emergency contacts and selecting the second name on the list.

“Amy, what the-it’s three in the morning-“

Her brother, Nic, was the obvious choice when planning for an emergency such as this one. The rest of the squad were out of the question, as they could easily be involved in whatever reason Jake is unavailable. Karen lives twenty minutes away and her parents are in New Jersey, but Nic is only a five minute drive from them, making him the perfect candidate to watch Abigail. Of course, she hoped she would never have to actually call him - so much so that she never exactly told him he was their emergency go-to.

“Jake responded to an active shooting.” Her voice is still steady. She’s trained to deal with crises. “I need to go to the precinct. Can you please-“

“Oh god, Amy, I-I’ll be right there.”

The line goes dead, and Amy only allows herself a moment to try to remember how to breathe before she jumps into action.

She goes through the motions of packing an emergency bag, rummaging through the things in their bedroom: anxiety medication, phone chargers, badge and gun...

As she grabs the badge from her bedside table, her eye catches the framed photo right beside it, a moment captured by Gina’s phone of their first kiss as husband and wife. It wasn’t the professional photograph she had planned, but it’s her favourite picture ever taken of her and Jake.

Jake. Her husband. The father of her child.

It suddenly clicks that he’s actually in real, mortal danger. This isn’t just a worst case scenario, it’s the worst case scenario. The absolute worst thing that could possibly happen is one bullet away from becoming reality.

She slowly sinks down until she’s on the floor, her back against the side of their bed as the tears begin to flow. She doesn’t have time to break down, she knows that. She’s a wife, mother and sergeant - not one of those roles does she take lightly, not one leaves room for her to be weak. She’s supposed to be strong.

The opening of her bedroom door brings her back to reality, her head jolting up from where it was positioned in her hands to see her brother. His brows are furrowed with deep concern and his sweatpants and messy hair indicate that he got here as fast as is humanly possible.

“That was really fast,” she remarks, her voice trembling more than she thought it would as hot tears continue to stream down her face.

“I might have broken a few traffic laws. You can get me out of a ticket, right?” Nic smirks slightly at her horrified look. The Santiagos do not break traffic laws. “Kidding.”

Her older brother plops down on the floor next to her, putting a hand on her knee as she moves to get up.

“I need to go-“

“You need to breathe for a second before you operate a vehicle, Amy.”

She shakes her head, aggressively wiping away her tears. “I need to be there. I need to figure out what’s happening and - and I need to be a good wife and sergeant and mother and - and I need to buy more mushy peas in the morning because it’s all Abby will eat this week and now I have to go-“

“Amy, breathe.” Nic shifts over so he’s facing her, forcing her to look him in the eye. “You are strong. That’s never in question, okay? The fact that you’re breaking down right now does not make you weak, it makes you a normal person who’s going through something totally terrifying.”

She nods, letting a small sob escape her and leaning back against her soft comforter.

“I didn’t kiss him,” she says suddenly. “I…I always do, but I had just gotten Abby down for a nap and I was in the shower when he left.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nic says comfortingly. “You’ll get to kiss him.”

“He only took a night shift because he’s been trying to get more overtime ever since we found out I was pregnant. I told him he doesn’t have to, but he wanted to start a college fund for Abby.” Amy runs a hand through her hair, shaking her head. “He spent all his money on massage chairs and take out when I met him, and now he’s…he’s such a good dad. I can’t do this without him, I can’t come home to her alone.”

“You won’t. Jake’s tough and he’s a good cop. He’s gonna be fine.”

For the first time in a life of relentless teasing and arguments, she really hopes her brother is right.

99th Precinct

12:28 A.M.

Nobody says a word when Amy comes running off the elevator wearing leggings and an NYPD sweater smelling faintly of cologne that is noticeably to big to be hers. Terry, Rosa, Charles and Gina are gathered in a loose circle of chairs outside Gina’s former desk in front of Captain Holt’s former office that is now Terry’s. She has no idea how everyone got here so quickly, but the many cups of coffee and the bags under her friends’ eyes indicate that they all rushed to the precinct as quickly as she did without the added step of having to find someone to watch their children. There’s just about nothing that this group of people wouldn’t do for Jake Peralta, she realizes.

Amidst the silence, everyone rises from their seats and within seconds she’s being pulled into a hug by Charles.

“He’ll be okay, Amy. It’s Jake, he has to be.”

Her husband’s best friend’s words resonate with her - Jake is always okay. He’s survived death threats and prison and countless dangerous operations just like this one. He hasn’t been taken from them yet, she hopes with all of her heart that he won’t be taken from them tonight. She hugs him back briefly and then pulls away to face her captain.

“Have you heard anything?”

Terry gives a solemn shake of his head. “Sorry, Amy, I still don’t know much. Holt said he’ll do everything he can to get an update, but there’s only so much even the commissioner can do in situations like this.”

She sits in the chair next to Gina, the extra seat obviously meant for her, trying not to glance just to her left at the pair of desks where she spent years stealing glances at the guy that she had a minor crush on (okay, it was pretty major by the time she admitted it to herself and full-blown obsession by the time she told him).

She keeps her phone in her hand and the volume on high in case Jake texts that it’s over or Holt provides an update to her directly. Her heart begins to ache a little more than it has been this whole time as the elevator doors open again and the commissioner of the NYPD himself steps out. Despite the considerable relationship he has with his old detective squad, he certainly isn’t obligated to give them an update in person. Unless it’s a bad one. She isn’t going to wait to find out.

“Have you heard from Jake?” she explains in a tone that lacks politeness and professionalism, but Holt does not seem to mind. His face softens when he sees Amy in her current state.

“As of right now there are two civilians wounded, no deaths and no officers injured.” Relief washes through her instantly and she nearly falls back into Gina, who keeps her upright with a hand on her shoulder. “Unfortunately the shooter has not been taken into custody yet, so Jake and the others are still there. It is unclear at this time when they will be out.”

The thought of waiting any longer without the certainty that he’s safe makes her feel nauseous, but Captain Holt - Commissioner Holt, but he’ll always be her captain - sits next to her and says “Peralta will be alright. I believe that his tendencies to make rash decisions without proper judgement have declined significantly through your relationship.” It eases her mind for a moment.

99th Precinct

1:22 A.M.

The precinct is colder at night. It always has been, and Amy’s always noticed it. She worked late often enough to realize the change in temperature, but it wasn’t until they were assigned to the night shift by the ridiculous Captain Stentley that she came to truly loathe how cold it got.

The moment she steps into the break room tonight and a chill goes up her spine, she feels a big wave of déjà vu hit, almost as if it’s a vision from her past.

“Hey, whatcha doing in here?”

She looks up from her spot on the couch, her face buried in a case file. Despite her fatigue and the general disheartening effect of the night shift, she’s still working as hard as she always does. It eases her heart and mind a little to see her boyfriend limping through the doorway with his cane, grinning at her. It’s his first week back at work in months, and she missed seeing him across the desk from her more than she realized.

“It’s a couple degrees warmer in here than the bullpen,” she answers, shifting over on the couch so he can join her.

“Yeah, it is actually a lot colder in here at night than I remembered it,” Jake agrees, plopping down next to her with a thud. “Wait, why aren’t you wearing a jacket?”

“None of my blazers really match this blouse, so-“

Jake’s already shrugging off his leather jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders and then pulling her into his side.

“Jake, we’re at work...” she trails off, looking up through the break room window. The majority of their colleagues are nearly asleep at their desks or currently absent. She knows for a fact that Captain Holt just took his break, so he won’t be walking in any time soon.

She doesn’t think anyone would really say anything, anyways. She’s sure they all noticed how little she smiled or laughed or showed enthusiasm of any kind over the six months he was in Florida, how she would decline invitations to hang out after work or quietly excuse herself when someone mentioned him.

“You’re so warm,” she says fondly, her face squished against his chest. She allows her eyes to flutter closed, immersed in his embrace. God, she missed him so much.

“And you’re freezing,” he says with a kiss to the top of her head.

Feeling completely relaxed for the first time that night, she begins to fantasize about the comfort of her own home - or his, she doesn’t really care at this point - awaiting her when their shift is done in just two short hours. “We should definitely take a long, hot shower as soon as we get home.”

His eyes widen. “Ames, that is hardly appropriate conversation for the workplace.”

“Oh, yes, there’s nothing sexier than helping my boyfriend bathe because he has a bullet wound in his leg-“

“And who inflicted that wound upon me?”

“I saved your life!”

They’re both laughing at this point, and she can feel his chest rising and falling in sync with his laughter, the sound bouncing off the walls.

Now, the room is painfully quiet as Rosa leads her to a chair, urging her to sit down and placing a mug in front of her. She appreciates the gesture, but her nerves certainly cannot be tamed by a cup of herbal tea.

“Thanks, Rosa, but-“

“It’s coffee,” Rosa interrupts her. “I know Terry said to give you chamomile tea to relax you or whatever, but we both know it’s gonna be a long night.”

Amy nods gratefully, taking a long sip of the hot, bitter drink.

“Remember the Brooklyn Heights shooting a few years ago?” Rosa’s voice cuts through the silence.

She’s taken aback by the question, nodding slowly. Of course she remembers it - the hours Rosa’s life was up in the air were some of the scariest of her life (until today, that is).

“Did Jake ever tell you he almost came to help me even though he was ordered not to?”

Amy’s heart clenches in her chest, trying to recall the events of that day after Rosa found her drenched in toilet water. She remembers going home, taking a shower, going over some wedding plans with Kylie over the phone, falling asleep early with Jake beside her. They barely talked about the shooting at all, let alone the fact that he almost went.

“No,” Amy says quietly. “No, he never told me.”

She can’t say she’s surprised, but it still hurts her to think that she could’ve lost him weeks before their wedding. She could’ve never been married to him.

“We went to Shaw’s that night and he told me what happened,” Rosa continues. “I think I was the only one that ever found out other than Holt. But you know what he said when I asked why he came to his senses?” Amy shakes her head, still looking at Rosa with watery eyes. “You, Amy. He said he couldn’t handle the thought of leaving you alone.”

She promised herself she wouldn’t cry again, at least until she gets to hold him and inevitably breaks down in his arms (she has to keep telling herself that that moment will come) but Rosa’s revelation completely unravels her.

Rosa’s hand on her own brings her some comfort, the act of affection both rare and extremely appreciated.

“He wants to come home to you. And Jake’s stubborn as hell when he wants to be.”

Amy smiles fondly, nodding in agreement. It’s one of the things she loves and occasionally disdains.

“Yeah, he really is.”

24-Hour Grocery Store

3:14 A.M.

As soon as they get the call that the shooter’s been taken into custody, the Nine-Nine rushes to the scene of the shooting. Amy rides in the passenger seat of Terry’s car, her eyes shut tightly so more tears don’t escape as the words she heard through the speaker phone in the captain’s office replay in her brain.

Several officers down. Names and severity of injuries still unclear.

There were less than ten officers present, as far as she knows, which means there’s a significant statistical possibility that Jake is one of the several.

There are ambulances and squad cars surrounding the store, the flashing lights making Amy feel more disoriented as she jumps out of the car the moment they’ve parked.

Immediately, she spots a familiar face, Detective Ross Thompson from their neighbouring precinct, exiting the building. He’s uninjured, as far as she can tell, which first relieves her and then makes the calculation in her brain of the likelihood that Jake is one of the injured shift further out of her favour.

“Thompson!”

The way that the man’s face pales with fear when he sees her in a way that it shouldn’t at the sight of a superior officer with whom he has a pretty good professional relationship, but might at the sight of a dead man’s wife.

“Sergeant,” he says quietly. “Peralta-he, uh-“

A quick glance over his shoulder renders the rest of Thompson’s sentence obsolete. Nothing has ever shaken Amy Santiago quite as much as the sight of her husband on a stretcher, blood covering so much of him that it’s impossible to tell where he’s been shot.

Jake. She isn’t sure if she actually shouts his name or if it’s just echoing in her head the way that it has for the better part of ten years, but she manages to push past the crowd of cops and paramedics until she’s as close to him as possible.

“Jake,” she breathes, her hand clutching his where it rests limply at his side. He’s still wearing his kevlar vest, which has a mark from a bullet that surely would’ve penetrated his heart without it - she’s never been more grateful for an article of clothing. She’s close enough now to see the wound in his shoulder, where the paramedics seem to have finally stopped the blood - which is everywhere - from flowing. His name comes out like a whimper as she lets out the tears she was holding back.

“Ames?” His voice is so weak and small compared to the volume she’s used to. She squeezes his hand a little tighter as he looks up at her with wide eyes. She’s pretty sure that the look of fear on his face mirrors hers.

“Excuse me, miss, I’m going to have to ask you to step back so we can move him to the ambulance.”

Amy steps away reluctantly, only enough that the man and woman in paramedic uniforms can move the stretcher into the back of the vehicle. Jake’s groan of pain as she steps away makes her sob harder.

“Is he going to be okay?” she chokes out, following them to the ambulance parked just a few feet away.

“He’s lost a lot of blood, but we’re going to do everything we can to make sure he pulls through,” the male paramedic, a twenty-something with dark hair and bright blue eyes, informs her. “Are you his wife?” Amy nods. “You can ride in the ambulance with him.”

She climbs up into the back of the ambulance behind the paramedics, sitting as close to Jake as she can while the paramedics work around them, cleaning some of the blood off his chest.

“Why’re you crying, babe?” Jake’s eyes are barely open, his only real awareness seeming to be the fact that she’s there and she’s sobbing violently while she clutches his hand so tightly that both of their fingers are white.

She kisses the back of his hand a few times, comforted by the fact that his skin is still as warm as it always is. “I can’t lose you.”

“Not gonna…” he struggles to get the words out, his breathing laboured. “Not gonna leave you. Promise.”

He moves their joined hands almost like a handshake, a symbolic agreement that he will never leave her. She feels his grip on her loosen as he drifts off, and she holds on to both his hand and the vow that he’s just made to her. He’s not leaving her, definitely not tonight.

“I love you so much,” she whispers for no one to hear.

Brooklyn Methodist Hospital

7:21 A.M.

Mom

Just woke up to voicemail from Nic. Our prayers are with Jake. Call if you need anything, mija, we love you both very much. Xo Mom and Dad

Nic Santiago

Abby’s up and just had breakfast. All good here. Has Jake woken up yet?

Charles Boyle

Just got home. Don’t forget to text me when Jake wakes up and every hour after that with an update :)

Raymond Holt

Dear Sergeant Santiago,

Captain Jeffords has updated me on Jake’s condition. I will visit later today after you have both had adequate time to rest.

Sincerely,

Raymond Holt

Kylie

Your brother texted me. Is Jake okay?? Do you need anything?

Gina Linetti

you were passed out during my turn to visit, plz tell jake he’s not getting out of the $10 he owes me for buying pizza in ninth grade that easily. and ily both i guess

Karen Peralta

Just got your texts. I’ll be at the hospital as soon as I can - just have to find someone to cover me at work today. Give Jake a big hug from me. Sending you all my love.

Rosa Diaz

Say hey to Jake for me when he wakes up. Don’t tell him any of the lame stuff I said (yes, that is a threat)

Terry Jeffords

Thinking of you guys. Just got home to Sharon and the girls. Take all the time off you need while Jake recovers.

Amy wakes to an onslaught of text messages from her friends and family, her eyes adjusting to the harsh hospital lighting and the brightness of her phone screen. She realizes she’s only been asleep for about an hour, but it’s more than she thought she would be able to get in the uncomfortable chair next to Jake’s bed.

She glances over at her sleeping husband. If it weren’t for the sling keeping his fractured scapula immobile, he would be indistinguishable from the man she wakes up next to every single day.

Against her better judgement, knowing that she needs to let him sleep, she runs her hand through his hair. She feels a little guilty when his eyes flicker open, but it vanishes when he smiles at her. Her heart feels like it’s going to explode. She loves him so much.

“Hey, Ames” he says. His voice is hoarser than normal and still her favourite sound in the world.

“Hi, baby,” she says in a soothing voice, moving to sit on the bed in the space next to him. While one hand continues to stroke his soft curls, the other grabs his where it rests on his stomach. “How are you feeling?”

“I…can’t feel much,” he says, confirming for her that the drugs she approved that they give him are working. “Babe, where’s Abby?”

“She’s at home with Nic. He came over to watch her last night when I got the call.” Her voice breaks a little at the end of the sentence. She thinks it goes unnoticed until she feels his hand squeeze hers tighter.

“Nic’s watching her?”

Amy chuckles slightly. Apparently, Jake does not try as hard to hide the fact that Nic’s not exactly his favourite of her brothers when he’s on morphine.

“He’s a doctor, Jake. He’s capable of watching our daughter.”

“He’s also capable of judging my every move and acting like he knows everything.”

“To be fair, he probably does know a bit more about the effects that pizza bagels have on your health-“

“Well, I know more…laws,” Jake says with a huff, frowning. He looks like a five-year old that just got told it’s time for bed, and he’s completely adorable and she loves him so much.

“I bet you do,” she says warmly.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I tried to be careful for you guys.”

After Jake was rushed into surgery and she was reunited with the squad in the waiting room, Thompson filled her in on what happened. Jake had taken two bullets intended for a twelve year old boy, only one of them actually penetrating his flesh. It was the kind of decision that they’re often faced with in this job but never really prepared to make. As much as she hates the choice he made, she knows it was the right one and the same one she would’ve made.

“It’s okay, Jake,” she murmurs. They’ll talk about it more later, when the shock and the drugs and the initial terror have worn off. She leans down to kiss his lips gently. He kisses her back, his hand moving from hers to weakly cup her face. She pulls away and rests her forehead against his, her eyes still shut. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he says with a quick kiss to her cheek. “’M sleepy.”

She pulls away as he closes his eyes, seconds away from drifting back into a deep sleep.

“Yeah, you should get some rest.”

“Need you,” he murmurs softly, but its still laced with urgency.

“I’m right here, honey,” she assures him. “I’m not leaving.”

He shakes his head, unsatisfied. “Need you here.” Jake shifts over in the bed to offer her more space, extending his uninjured arm so she can curl up with him.

“I shouldn’t…” she starts to say, but quickly decides that cuddling with her husband right now is a million times more important than some hospital rule.

She, very cautiously, climbs into the bed with him and melts into his side, her arm hugging his stomach. Her head tucks under his chin.

“I love you,” she says once again. “Forever.”

“I know, that’s why we got married.”

“Jake, please just let me be emotional for two seconds. My husband just got shot, it’s been a bit of a rough night for me.”

“Really? He sounds like a badass.”

Amy rolls her eyes, smiling against his chest at the sheer fact that she still gets to do that. “You’re such an idiot.”

He holds her closer, his cheek resting comfortably on the top of her head.

“I love you too, Ames.”

#otp: you're not allowed to fall in love with me #b99 fic #b99 #all of the angst #also i apologize sincerely for any grammatical errors it is very late #but i wanted to post before bed #myfics

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douxreviews · 5 years

Text

Jessica Jones - ‘A.K.A. Hellcat’ Review

"I've got this."

For the second time this season, Jessica Jones pulls the 'Let's see all that from someone else's perspective' trick. Once again, the second perspective is Trish's. Once again, it really, really works.

When the episode titles were announced and we were dividing up which Agent of Doux was going to review which episode, I saw the title for this one and thought to myself, 'Oh good, I get to do the one where Trish has her big hero debut that we've been waiting for. That will be neat.'

That was not what this was.

Since her funeral is the emotional core of the episode, why don't we start by talking about Dorothy. Last episode we saw most of the events of Dorothy's funeral, and what was surprising was the number of people who approached Jessica and Trish and told them inspiring stories of how Dorothy genuinely helped them in their careers. I was a little concerned about this, because I thought it might be the indication that we were going to go ahead and Hank Heywood Dorothy, and I really hate that trope.

If you don't follow Legends of Tomorrow, first of all let me say that you should be watching Legends of Tomorrow. Unless you hate things that are awesome. Secondly, I'll explain the reference. Hank Heywood was the father of Nate, one of the titular Legends. Hank was regularly shown to be an emotional abusive, self involved piece of garbage whose go-to move was to try to destroy as much of his son's self esteem as possible. Then Hank died, and at his funeral we heard one nice story about one singular time that he did something decent, and everyone acted like he was totally absolved of everything forever and has always been just like Jesus.

Obviously I'm still a little irritated by this. Hang in there, I'm coming around to my point.

Since then, 'Hank Heywooding' (v.) has become my own personal shorthand for that thing that TV and movies like to do in which they bestow retroactive sainthood on an intrinsically negative character for the sake of shoehorning in a 'redemption arc'. When the first few testaments to 'Dorothy saved my career' started coming in I really thought that's where they were going. with her. But then the show did something really interesting. Without disavowing or minimizing the times that Dorothy had honestly been a positive and supportive force for people, it went on in this episode to show us Dorothy at her most manipulative and emotionally abusive, pushing Trish into getting her big break through the most reprehensible means possible.

And just a side note, in case anyone is in any way unclear on the point; telling a girl that age that the financial well being of her whole family is entirely on her shoulders is not even the tiniest bit OK. To say nothing of adding on, 'now you're responsible for all of the cast and crew having jobs too.'

I like how they handled this overview of who Dorothy was as a person. It's complicated, and it's messy, and it feels realer than we generally can expect from television.

So, while we get 'Secret Origins: It's Patsy', what we're really being told is exactly what Jessica said both here and in a previous episode. Trish is who she is because of Dorothy. Good and bad. It just turns out that Trish is a lot more broken inside that we'd had an opportunity to see before, and her grief at Dorothy's death is being channeled into the worst possible interpretation of 'You're obligated to give it everything you've got.'

Great usage of misdirection leading into this episode. At the end of the previous one we interpreted Erik's look of shock when he entered the construction site office as, 'Oh my God, Trish is the killer!' It turns out that what he was really shocked by was how completely Trish had lost control. In fact, all of the 'do over' scenes that we get here are reinterpreted in fascinating little ways now that we know Trish's side of the story. That's good storytelling.

I felt just awful for Erik through most of this one. He's right, the situation is completely dicked. It was endearing how dedicated he was to rescuing Jessica from being arrested for the crime that he himself was at least partially responsible for. It did however make me sad inside to find out that he was lying to Jessica by omission last episode. I really wanted to believe in him. Wonderful detail as well that Erik called the cops on Jessica in order to stop her from preventing Trish from attacking Mr. Arsonist and thereby giving Jessica an alibi. Erik and Jessica are going to have one hell of a come to Jesus talk at some point very soon.

So, final score at the close: Jessica was mostly absent. Trish is deeply scary now and completely off the rails. Erik's heart is in the right place but he continues to make poor choices. And Dorothy was capable of being both very good and very bad. RIP Dorothy, and bring on the final two installments.

Bits and Pieces:

- Young Trish's red wig was absolutely horrible.

- The flashback of Trish attacking Sallinger didn't give us any new information, but set up the structure of the episode really nicely. I liked how they handled that.

- Was Erik's expression after Trish punched him just pain from the punch or was he feeling evil from her? Was the punch a plotting contrivance to justify why he didn't sense evil from her at that moment?

- What the everloving hell was up with Omar 'Satan wins when the forces of light stand idly by’ the Doorman? That's a super messed up thing to say to someone whose mother was just murdered. I notice that we didn't see his face when he said it though. Are we going to find out that that was just in Trish's mind?

- Erik and Trish continue to have amazing chemistry with one another as performers. Also, most irresponsible vigilante team ever.

- It was good that the kick that killed Nussbaumer didn't look any more over the top than anything else she'd done. That sold the 'it was an accident' vibe.

- I suppose leaving the badge behind with victim number two should theoretically clear Jessica of the first murder.

- I have a million questions about whether evil is a tangible and finite substance, based on Erik's reaction to the first death.

- Did anyone else get a real Logan Echolls vibe off of Erik through most of this episode?

- Did Erik leave the trailer because Trish was giving him a headache there at the end? Because that was my read.

- I actually experience a groin pull just watching Trish put her foot on Jeri's throat. I can't be the only one who thought Trish was going to attack her.

- Jeri is now blackmailing Trish in order to get her to help solve Kith's problems. That's nice plot dovetailing. There is now no shortage of people who might kill Jeri before the season's end. My money's currently on Trish, although Jessica might be the dark horse in that race.

- I love the worldbuilding detail that cops have to take into account how various superpowers affect their perp investigations.

- Trish is totally going after Sallinger now, right?

- This episode was written by Jane Espensen, my favorite TV writer of all time. I wrote her a love song once. You can google it.

Quotes:

Dorothy: "What did I tell you about parentheticals?"

Trish: "Despite everything on my side, the good, the right, they still win."

Trish: "Was I bothering you? Because your wife beating was bothering me."

Erik: "I can take a hit. When it’s righteous."

Dorothy: "You take that holier than Mom look off your face."

Trish: "You blackmail guilty people." Erik: "I’m re-thinking that career path."

Erik: "If you get hurt chasing my bad guy, Jessica is going to kick my face in and I’ll let her."

Erik: "Christ. This is so dicked up."

Another solid installment which fills in the answers to a bunch of questions that we didn't know we should be asking yet.

Eight out of ten groin stretching exercises.

---

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

#Jessica Jones #Trish Walker #Jeri Hogarth #Malcolm Ducasse #Marvel #MCU #Jessica Jones Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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cyannawine · 6 years

Text

Fifteen Translation: phase.01 (1/6)

The man was troubled.

At any rate, he was troubled.

Staring at the documents, smoking, standing up from his chair to stretch, looking at the swarm of things pasted on the wall, groaning like a cow about to die, and going right back to staring at the documents.

The meaningless geometry diagrams in front of him flickered in and out of focus.

“This is… futile, isn’t it…”

He had black hair that was smoothed back, and had on a worn white shirt. He wore sandals with a hole in the front. There was a stethoscope around his neck. And there were bags under his eyes.

No matter how you look at it, that man was obviously a doctor.

To add in passing, that was a messy clinic far from the city centre. There were the stethoscope, medical records, and technical books on the bookshelf. On the wall in front of the table, there was an x-ray film illuminator.

This was exactly like a doctor’s office; the man was exactly like a doctor.

But the man wasn't a doctor, and that place wasn't a clinic either.

It was the furthest thing away from a hospital.

“The payment for the smuggled guns has already been overdue for two weeks. This will soon result in the subordinates fighting the enemies with kitchen knives – what a predicament. That’s not all. The city police have also already been dispatched three times this month. The members in the lowest rungs are unable to control the situation any longer,” the man said as he looked at the bundle of documents.

The man’s name is Mori Ougai.

He’s the boss of the powerful criminal organisation, the Port Mafia. Furthermore, he was just an instructor for the new recruits before taking the position of the boss just a year ago.

“Cancellation of the protection business. Intensification of conflicts with other organisations. Losing territories. How troubling… there have been so many problems ever since I became the boss a year ago. To think that being in the top position would be so troublesome... could it be that I’m not suited for this job? What do you think, Dazai-kun? Are you listening to me?”

“I am listening not.”*

“Which is it?”

The person who answered Mori Ougai’s question is a boy sitting on the nearby medical examination stool.

He had unkempt black hair and white bandages on his forehead.

An oversized black coat was draped over the skinny, small boy.

Dazai Osamu, aged 15.

“Because Mori-san’s always talking about boring things!” Dazai said as he played with medical bottles. “At this point, you’re almost chanting a sutra. I have no money, I have no information, my subordinates have no trust in me. Even though you should have known all that from the start.”

“That’s true…” Mori scratched his head in a troubled manner before suddenly saying, “by the way, Dazai-kun, why are you mixing the high blood pressure medicine with the low blood pressure medicine?”

“Huh? I’m wondering if something amazing would happen and cause me to die easily if I mix and drink them.”

“You can’t die!” Mori snatched the bottles away violently. “Seriously, how did you even open the cabinet?”

“No, no, I want to die!” Dazai flapped his arms. “It’s boring so I want to die! As much as possible, I want to die painlessly and simply! Mori-san, do something!”

“If you be an obedient and good child, I’ll tell you the prescription sometime.”

“You lie! You say that, but you’ll just order me around and let me hold on to that troublesome thought without telling me anything for a year! If it’s going to be like that, I’ll betray you and join an enemy organisation!”

“You’re a good boy, so stop saying such irresponsible things. If you do something like betray me, you won’t be able to die painlessly.” Mori could only smile bitterly.

“Ahh… this is so boring. How is this world so boring.”

Dazai swung his skinny legs from his position on the stool.

Dazai was not Mori’s subordinate. He was not even in the Mafia. Of course, he also wasn't an illegitimate child, an orphan that was picked up or a medical assistant. There wasn’t a word in existence that could describe the relationship between Mori and Dazai.

To use words already in existence, that would have to be fated collaboration.

“In the first place, Dazai-kun,” Mori said with a sigh, “you were the only one there when I inherited the previous boss’ position. In other words, you’re the witness to the boss’ last words. It would be troublesome if you were to die so easily.”

The reason behind the two of them becoming a fated collaboration occurred a year ago. Mori, who was the previous boss’ personal doctor, and Dazai, who was a patient that had failed to commit suicide, conspired to carry out a secret operation.

The assassination of the previous boss of the Port Mafia.

And the forgery of the will.

“We didn't achieve our aim, huh,” Dazai said in a strangely clear voice.

“What about?”

“Even though choosing a patient who failed to commit suicide as your accomplice was such a good choice. Even after a year has passed, I am still living like this. Thanks to you, this uneasy feeling never disappears.”

For a moment, it felt like Mori’s insides were drenched with cold water.

“… What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. The uneasiness I’m talking about is the uneasiness of not knowing whether the assassination plot was leaked.”

As usual, it was impossible to read Dazai’s emotions from his expression. It was as calm as the surface of a frozen lake.

“What do you mean by we didn't achieve our aim?” Mori frowned as if he were scolding someone. “We definitely did. You and me, didn't we execute the mission perfectly? One year ago. Though it was troublesome, so I don't want to do it ever again.”

“The mission wasn't completed,” Dazai said with cold eyes. “The mission can only first be called a success after we seal the mouths of those who were involved in the assassination and forgery of the will. Right?”

Mori’s insides rippled violently.

“You…”

Dazai’s gaze pierced Mori calmly. It was like a body scanner that scanned the insides of a human body.

“With regard to that, I was the perfect choice as an accomplice. After all, no one would suspect me. After you became the boss with my testimony… even if I achieve my goal of committing suicide…”

The doctor and boy exchanged silent glances in that short moment. It was as if the death god and devil were glaring at each other, filling the room with miasma.

In Mori’s mind, there was a word that kept echoing in his head like an alarm.

Miscalculated.

You miscalculated.

You misinterpreted the optimal solution.

You shouldn't have chosen this boy to be your accomplice.

Dazai couldn’t possibly know what it was like at the bottom. The boy would sometimes show him the sharpness of a nightmarish thought. He was observant. He had an intelligence that has yet to be seen in the den of devils that is the Mafia.

“… Just kidding. It’s fun to say such irresponsible things and worry a great person. It’s my recent entertainment,” Dazai said as he suddenly reverted back to his absent-minded expression.

Mori watched Dazai silently.

Just when Mori thought about that sharpness Dazai possessed, Dazai immediately erased all signs of his intelligence. It was as if smoke was surrounding that incomprehensible suicidal maniac with unclear motives and who seemed as if he had seen through everything to the end.

Even though he hadn’t even thought about it before he became the boss, Dazai’s words and actions reminded him of a certain person.

“I know someone who’s similar to you,” Mori said without thought.

“Who?”

Dazai tilted his head, and Mori smiled slightly without answering him.

“Anyway, stop teasing adults. Me silencing you? There’s no way I’d do that. First, if I had wanted to do that, I would have done it a long time ago. It’s easier than breathing. And how many times do you think I have stopped your suicides in the past year? That’s really troublesome, you know. Once, it even seemed like I was a hero in a movie when I had to dismantle the bomb under your chair, right?”

He couldn't let Dazai die.

Why? That was because if that were to happen, those from the previous generation who still held power would surely cause a scene and say, “as expected, the succession was a just a ruse.”

On the contrary, those who call themselves ‘the previous generation team’ actually stopped two attempts on Mori’s life that year. Of course, even though the traitors were executed, it was impossible to imagine just how many there were from the previous generation team that did not support Mori.

That was why Dazai couldn't die.

*What Dazai says is kiitemasun, where masun is an evasive sort of reply to avoid giving a proper answer as it can be taken as yes or no. It’s considered a type of slang.

#bungou stray dogs #Nakahara Chuuya #Dazai Osamu #soukoku #light novel translation #fifteen

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