#it’s all through the lens of duty but never resentful duty

[thewadapan]

Post-War Escapism in Godzilla Minus One

Many people lauded the period-piece creature-feature Godzilla Minus One as one of the best films of last year. It's definitely not a bad movie! But after finally sitting down to watch it, I was surprised to see very few people talking about some of the film's weaker elements, which stood out to me and my friends as being very obvious shortcomings. In this essay, I talk about post-traumatic fantasy, mixed metaphors, and the Unspoken Plan Guarantee. Smash that "Keep reading" button to keep reading!

This is definitely a more human story than Shin Godzilla, the only other Godzilla flick I've seen, but I think it's less effective at delivering what it sets out to achieve.

The film's opening is easily the best part of the movie, unburdened by thematic considerations, narrative momentum, or tons of CGI in broad daylight. We're introduced to our protagonist, Shikishima, a kamikaze pilot who's clearly fled his duty, landing at an island repair base which is promptly attacked by Godzilla. The kaiju appears differently here to his traditional appearances, a smaller, T-Rex-like predator that runs around biting people in half. Great stuff. We immediately grasp the emotional states of the pilot, experiencing a heady mix of mortal terror and utter shame, and of the head engineer, resenting everything about this guy. Godzilla is quickly established on a thematic level as the embodiment of the senseless violence Shikishima is running from, and on the narrative level as an unstoppable threat.

Shikishima returns to Tokyo to find that his parents are dead and his neighbour, Sumiko, fucking hates him, blaming the bombing of the city (which killed her entire family) on his cowardice. Such is the venom of her invective that she comes off as a vengeful ghost, haunting this poor shellshocked man by reminding him of his sin at every opportunity. We're also introduced to Noriko, a survivor roughly his age, and Akiko, a random orphaned infant she's ended up adopting. They form a kind of found family, with Sumiko in particular intervening to save the baby from starvation.

The film never really allows Sumiko to explicitly state how this affects her feelings, and although I felt her character was well-conceived, this meant she often came off as a bit cartoonish; less a person, and more a stock archetype you see in a shōnen story. The tension between her and Shikishima is very well-established, and the film never delivers on a specific moment of catharsis, where Sumiko admits something along the lines of: "I'm sorry for blaming you for this tragedy. I'd lost everything precious to me, and was lashing out. You are as much a victim as I am. Thank you for giving me a family again." And the thing is, even as I write that, I don't like it, I wonder if there's something more realistic in all of this going unspoken: but what I mean is, Godzilla Minus One is not by any means a subtle fucking movie. It's a WWII film with a giant killer dinosaur in it. The fact that the film did not take a moment to reflect on Sumiko's journey therefore struck me as an oversight rather than a deliberate choice.

Indeed, there's a lot of stuff in this film that feels similarly underdeveloped. I think this is primarily an anti-war film through the specific lens of a) kamikaze pilots and b) Godzilla, but it did not leave me feeling like I had just watched the definitive film about kamikaze pilots, nor the definitive Godzilla film. Although it occasionally gives lip-service to the horror of a government which would so blatantly view its citizens as disposable, it doesn't spare a thought for the many kamikaze pilots who did die; indeed, following that initial terrifying opening, the film is completely bloodless, with only offscreen or heavily-implied deaths taking place, and the finale of the film hinging thematically on an ending where not only does nobody die, but someone believed dead is actually revealed to have been alive after all.

Because ultimately, right, the horror of war isn't that people are dying—that's the horror of a natural disaster, which Shin Godzilla intelligently chose as the lens with which to frame its titular monster—but rather, that people are being killed. It's the fundamental irrationality and evil of one man being compelled to kill another, and this happening over and over again, on a scale beyond the ability of the human mind to fathom; hell, war films exist as an futile attempt to make us fathom it. Godzilla Minus one thus represents the perfect opiate for a nation grappling with its involvement in a senseless and horrific war at the whim of an insane government: it is an encore consisting of a just war, conducted not by the government but by the people, against an inhuman monster, which is defeated through bravery without a single life being sacrificed.

You see a lot of comparisons of this film against Marvel movies, mostly along the lines of "the VFX is so much better! the budget was so much smaller! the story was so much deeper!", but in terms of the fundamental character of the work, I honestly don't see the fucking difference. It's like in Top Gun: Maverick—a film people have compared favourably to this one—which laughably does not even name the country Tom Cruise is flying into to bomb the shit out of or whatever, I haven't seen that film, why the fuck would I want to watch that film?

I have no suggestion for how I would retool the script to fix this perceived shortcoming, because I'm ultimately criticising the fundamental premise of the film. In slightly shifting focus away from Godzilla as the personification of impersonal, indiscriminate nuclear holocaust, towards a more generic view of Godzilla as an embodiment of death and war, the film invites us to think of him more as an invading nation or army, and it didn't work for me, because war is personal and political in a way a big rampaging animal just can't be.

I really hate to say it, but the film was also really let down by many of the performances. Shikishima's minesweeper crew are straight out of a tokusatsu show for children, which I realise is kind of what Godzilla is, but c'mon, nobody's giving a bad performance on purpose! There's one bit where the younger lad takes mock offence at something someone's said, and it's like he's improvising in the background of a high school play. Although the leads themselves were generally better, they were let down in many places by the direction, which was often so melodramatic it wrapped around into being unintentionally funny. Finally, while this is kind of just a problem you run into with a lot of translated media, I felt that the dialogue itself was stilted, boring, and would often belabour the same points over and over ("it is good to live! it is cowardly to die!") instead of allowing the characters to actually express real feelings.

But hey, I am not immune to the charms of a well-choreographed sea battle. The first scene where the minesweeper runs into Godzilla is absolutely phenomenal, great spectacle and tension. The final plan is also well-conceived and visually engaging, but it does suffer from an absolutely textbook narrative stumble: a lot of time is devoted to explaining the plan, and then we see that same plan go off basically without a hitch. Like, it goes wrong, but only in exactly the one way it's obviously going to go wrong, which is to say of course you can't fucking kill Godzilla by sinking him to the bottom of the ocean and then dragging him back to the surface. All the elements of the plan which are kept from the audience with the intent of being surprises later are still so heavily telegraphed that they're not surprising in the slightest: of course those ships are unmanned! Of course there's an ejector seat! I liked the bit with the tugboats, I guess, that was fun, if a little cloying—again, what's the difference between that and "but there are more of us!" in The Rise of Skywalker? Okay, I'm sorry, that was unnecessarily mean of me.

Again, the big problem here is that the film has overplayed its hand with respect to its themes: there's a huge speech about how they're going to try and do what the government couldn't, which is to carry out the plan without sacrificing any lives. Everyone gets to live. It's so direct that you'll very quickly realise Noriko probably isn't dead either. At this point, what are even the stakes of the battle? Do we seriously think the movie is going to end on a note of Shikishima flying his jet into Godzilla's gullet, finally proving the value of kamikaze by using it to kill a big fucking dinosaur? Compare to the final act of Nope (I haven't seen Jaws, the ur-work both of these films are influenced by), which maintains a serious sense of danger throughout. This critical failure to maintain rising and falling tension, even during a scene which literally hinges on Godzilla falling and rising, was entirely avoidable and basically unforgivable.

The film is such a slave to very basic notions of setup and payoff that it sometimes seems to lose track entirely of what it's even trying to communicate. The younger guy on the minesweeper, who never fought in the war, is early on chastised strongly for expressing that he wishes he'd been able to fight. Then in the final act, he's initially denied participation in the plan, but then he shows up to save the day with his fleet of tugboats. I can perceive no subtextual justification for this: it's just, "well, this guy's there earlier in the movie, so he has to be there during the ending too!" Whatever.

Still, all my complaints aside, I ultimately enjoyed the experience of watching this film. It's fun, which I think is the main thing it's trying to be. Godzilla looks great, he has such a wonderful expression on his face. The basic elements of the story have a bit of bite to them. It's a shame, then, that as Sumiko felt towards Shikishima, so too do I feel towards this film: "you were so afraid of death, that you left me with nothing I cared about."

Rating: 7/10

If you've enjoyed this review, you can find dozens of similar essays written for every film I've watched in the last year over on Letterboxd, including this one. Letterboxd definitely favors snappy one-paragraph zingers over in-depth analysis, and I've never had much response on that site, so this is me experimenting with tumblr. I used to post godawful reviews here as a young teen, so I guess I've come full circle!

[melrosing]

I can understand some of the criticisms of the way the Alicent v Rhaenyra feud is being handled if we’re simply to understand it as Alicent being angry that Rhaenyra’s slept with someone and lied about it - that isn’t much to feud over, like girl what do you care lol.

buuut thinking about it through the lens of last week’s ep, where it’s clear that for Alicent sex has meant nothing but duty and suffering…. I do see where this has gotten twisted in her mind. Coming from a place of envy and resentment at seeing Rhaenyra enjoy partners of her choice and (relatively speaking) no consequences for doing so, as well as a father who will cover up for her and look the other way - the same father that routinely rapes Alicent, no less….

And then the threat against her own children she’s been warned of by her father (who in turn lost is position and his ability to protect Alicent, her children and House Hightower because of Rhaenyra [or his accusations against her anyway])…. idk I can see it 🤷🏻‍♀️ envy is a vicious motivator, and a fear for your kids never really goes amiss if they’re anywhere in a Westerosi line for succession lol. So imo it does lay the groundwork for their feud and eventually a full blown war. Could’ve used some tweaking maybe but doesn’t necessarily need it

Obviously this could all be avoided if Alicent could maybe just sit and talk to Rhaenyra and understand her perspective but then like. You could say that about essentially every conflict in this damn series lmao

[hallowed-be-thy-username]

Ooo...can i please request Fem reader who have just been heartbroken by a one sided crush and then one day she met The Joker and he makes her forgot about her crush? Can be nsfw if u want 👀

Hello, anon! Ok so this is longer than I'd originally planned but I was having fun 😆 it’s a little story in the realm of a crackfic that I had a lot of fun with! I hope you like it!!

Self-insert, Ledger Joker x fem reader, crackfic

Word count: 2,121

Warnings: light nsfw, mentions of mild violence

Summary: Sometimes people surprise you with what they'll do when their back is up against a wall, even the Joker.

Who?

It had to happen today, of all days. You went to grab a coffee this afternoon and what did you see? The man she knew you were obsessed with had his lips on hers. Right across the street from the café, your so-called friend was making out with the guy you’ve had a crush on for years.

He was back in Gotham on a business trip. His stay would have been shorter if it wasn’t for state of things in the city for the past couple of weeks. It seemed your friend decided it was an opportunity to swoop in before you’d gained the confidence to do it yourself. But the kicker is that he’d already agreed to meet you for dinner tomorrow night on top of it. Looks like he gets around. You all had gone to the same high school years ago and things apparently haven’t changed much. Aren’t you too old for games like this? You tried not to dwell on it, you had a job to do, but it’d been burning in your stomach like caustic acid for hours now.

You resisted the temptation to text her, tell her you saw them. No, if they want to play games, you could play your own. So far you hadn’t come up with anything but the old stand-by, the silent treatment. But this needed something bigger.

Your revenge plotting would have to wait, though. A minor injury out on patrol last month landed you a position in booking at MCU just in time for shit to hit the fan. Being a Gotham police officer was nothing like you’d expected it to be. You had your sights set on helping the disadvantaged, the people who couldn’t catch a break in this god forsaken city, who fell victim to loan sharks and got stuck in an endless cycle of debt to the inexplicably powerful Mob presence here. But the amount of red tape and corruption making that hopelessly impossible was enough to make you resent your decision in the first place. By now, you were one drug possession arrest away from never coming back.

Today, however, had taken an interesting turn. Your eyes were glued to the tv screen in the front office where live coverage of the SWAT team’s descent on the Pruitt building captured everyone’s attention. Some were optimistic about it, but most of the talk around MCU was skeptical. “If he’s gotten out of it before, he can do it again.”

But they got him. Back up teams raced out of the precinct and everyone scrambled with nervous excitement to carry out preparations for his arrival.

You weren’t here the last time the Joker had been brought in. You were off duty and you’d found yourself feeling a little jealous that you weren’t. He was all Gotham talked about, particularly around here. You weren’t sure how many times you’d seen his face by now. That face. There was something about the way he looked into the camera, it sent a tingle down your spine. It was a strange mixture of fear and fascination. It left you feeling conflicted, uneasy from the butterflies it stirred in your stomach, like you shouldn’t get this kind of excitement from it, a little spark of thrill you’d managed to keep suppressed.

But that spark was growing dangerously hotter now that you knew he’d be coming here, so soon, nonetheless. You had to keep your composure. The excitement was enough that you’d almost forgotten the betrayal you witnessed this afternoon… almost.

Your heart pounded as you approached the booking office, the sound of shouts and cheering echoing through the halls. What was he going to be like? Would he be angry? Was he going to take an officer hostage like last time? What if it ended up being you? You tried to take a deep breath, fighting the shaking of your hand as you reached for the door handle before carefully opening it.

You froze just past the doorway, letting it shut behind you. He was so… tall. He stood behind the intake desk, at least several inches taller than the SWAT officer removing the cuffs from his wrists behind his back. His expression was blank, casually watching the officers try to do their job while looking like their nerves were about to snap, avoiding touching him as much as they could.

“One move and I won’t hesitate to shoot you,” one officer said, doing his best to keep his voice from cracking.

The Joker didn’t say a word. He just flicked his tongue over his lip and lazily rolled his eyes. Butterflies fluttered into your throat and you fought to swallow them down. You had to try to relax, you can’t let him get to you. Of course, that’s easier said than done, his presence alone was enough to ignite an oddly alluring anxiety within you.

The awkward silence was broken when the on duty detective voiced his intolerance for that kind of behavior before noticing your arrival.

“Nice of you to join us, officer.”

All eyes landed on you, including his. You couldn’t breathe for a moment. That feeling that you got when you saw his picture was nothing compared to the intense wave of adrenaline that struck you like lightning, leaving you in a cold sweat as his eyes connected with yours.

You tried to maintain a professional demeanor, but you couldn’t hide the way color drained from your face as you slowly approached him. Just breathing took an immense amount of concentration. So much that you didn’t hear the detective giving you the case number to record before beginning the booking process.

“Officer! I’m speaking to you!”

You jumped and broke your gaze away from Joker’s dark rimmed eyes to quickly grab the form as the detective mumbled under his breath. Your hand was shaking again as you tried to breathe normally and recorded the number then in the next line, “Name, Unknown. Alias, The Joker.”

A shiver trickled its way down your back as you could feel eyes on you again and you looked up from the form to see him carefully watching you. Your breath hitched and you quickly tore your eyes away to stare at the form as heat bloomed in your cheeks. This couldn’t be happening. You’d been avoiding talking with anyone about him for weeks and no matter how much you denied it, now you knew why.

The other officers took his long purple coat and suit jacket off of his shoulders, removing a variety of knives from his clothing before turning him around to face you. You kept your eyes down, taking the cuffs from your belt to hold them in your hands, ready to place them on his wrists. A knot has tied itself around your insides and grew tighter the longer you stood there and stared at his hands, stained with traces of white, black, and red paint. Your face burned hotter, and your heart pounded relentlessly in your throat, but you had to try to remain calm. If you kept showing them how nervous you were, you’d be booted off of the case and another officer would take your place. This was pure torture, but you still didn’t want that to happen.

You were surprised by a need for more. He already had you trapped in this confusing push and pull to give in to the unusual attraction you had to him even though you knew it was wrong. It had taken you this long to realize that was it. A deep seated attraction had been sitting in the back of your mind and now it was rapidly taking over your body.

Goosebumps prickled your skin when your fingertips grazed his bare wrists, clicking the latch on the cuffs in place. This was like nothing you’d ever felt before, the rush in your veins, the heat in your stomach. You managed to keep the exhilaration spreading through your body from boiling over as you lead him to the line up wall for his intake photo.

He stood in front of the digital camera, holding the placard displaying his alias with the date and case number, his green hair swept hastily out of his face and infamous greasepaint smeared wildly. When you looked at the screen to capture the image, the knot in your belly unraveled. His gaze focused directly up into the camera lens and straight at yours, the corner of his scarred mouth tugging into a smirk. Your heart pounded in your ears and you could feel yourself shudder as rational thought slipped away, drowned out by a pervasive impulse. You knew he was dangerous, of course, and you couldn’t explain it but, you didn’t care. The fire he’d ignited within you was in control now.

A nervous buzz spread from your hands and down your arms before you looked up from the screen to meet his gaze, returning a subtle smile. Joker lifted his eyebrow and his grin stretched across his face until the other officers approached and he let it fall with a swipe of his tongue across his lip. That was all it took. You let those tempestuous flames engulf you and now you weren’t going to do anything to stop them.

Everything felt slowed down, like you were dreaming, feverish with this sudden and powerful desire when you kicked the door to the private search room open, pulling him inside with you and locking the door. You had precious few minutes before they’d find you. You quickly unlocked his handcuffs and spun around to put your back against the door, gripping the lapels of his vest when you stopped and stared up at his face as your stomach dropped. Why did you just do that?

But the feeling of regret didn’t last long. A low chuckle rumbled in Joker’s chest before he leaned on his hands, placed against the door on either side of you and brought his face inches from yours. Your breath huffed over his lips and the familiar feeling of arousal swelled between your legs as you felt his heat wash over you.

“Needed somewhere, uh, private to perform your search, officer?”

His lips hovered over yours as you smiled and answered softly, “I figured we’d start with the oral cavity search.”

His giggles were muffled when you crashed your lips into his, surrendering to the spontaneous and intense lust you found yourself swimming in. Your heart soared when he kissed you back, raising the intensity and allowing your tongue into his mouth as his hands moved to grip the sides of your face and your eyes fluttered closed.

He hummed when you wrapped your hands around his neck to lace your fingers in his hair and pressed your body against his. You could feel his size beneath the fabric of his pants and your breath hitched. This was one of those moments that didn’t feel like it was really happening, but it was. His hands slid down your sides to grip your waist and your mouths separated to catch your breath.

His eyes traveled up and down your body before another devious smile sent a shiver down your back.

“You. How about you come with me, hm?” he said, his eyes flickering to the gun in your belt.

Your stomach fluttered and you stared back at him, flinching when fists started pounding on the other side of the door and voices shouted. You shouldn’t trust him, you knew you shouldn’t. But trust hasn’t gotten you much in the past, has it? Besides, you didn’t have to trust him. Whatever happens is going to happen at this point so you might as well enjoy the ride. You’d already let it go this far. You swallowed your nerves and nodded, holding on tight to his shoulders.

Another chuckle made you bite your lip before he leaned in and purred in your ear, “Follow my lead, doll.”

You straddled his lap in the back of an unmarked van speeding down the street only moments later, his tongue in your mouth as your hands slid down his torso to the button on his pants. Was he always this lucky? Or did he know this would happen all along? Of course, this was a crazy thought but nothing that had happened today was sane. He held your own gun to your head and made his escape like it was planned that way. Either way, you’d easily forgotten all about the betrayal that felt so insignificant now.

In fact, tomorrow you’d receive a text from the traitor herself bragging to you about hooking up with your now former crush and your response, short and sweet, was “who?”

Taglist! @youmaycallmebrian @heavymetalnarwhal @neverputsaltinyoureyes @jokersqueenofchaos @into-crazy @killingjokee @astheworlddturns @jslittlebirdie @drreidsconverse @vipervixxen

[swordlesbean]

it must have been so painful for catra to see adora leave the horde in a heartbeat when she saw them attack innocent etherians but not even notice they were abusing her best friend for years

Am I being trolled? IDK, but I’ll bite, because it’s an opportunity to really examine this from Adora's perspective, which has a history of being underrepresented in the fandom, especially for things that happened in s1.

What you describe here was very much Catra’s perception of the situation, and absolutely, it was something that was painful for her, and a lot of people have already written beautifully about it, so I’m not going to retread that ground here. But the way you constructed your statement gives me the impression you aren’t just describing how Catra perceived the situation, but rather that you agree it’s the objective truth. And if that’s the case, you’re doing Adora a real disfavor. 

First, I wouldn’t exactly say Adora left the Horde in a heartbeat. Doubts were starting to build while she was captured by Glimmer and Bow, and when she realized the attack on Thaymor wasn't an accident, it was the final piece of the puzzle. Still, that doesn't mean Catra didn’t feature in her thinking when she decided to leave. Catra was literally in front of her when she made her decision, and Catra’s seeming indifference towards the villagers was part of what pushed Adora away. I get into the Thaymor situation in way more depth here.

Second, Adora didn't ignore Catra's abuse and mistreatment. Catra had an understandably resentment-poisoned perception of the events of their childhood, but what we, the audience, objectively saw on the screen was Adora trying to leverage her position as Shadow Weaver's favorite to defuse explosive situations between Catra and Shadow Weaver, including by literally placing her body between them.

Adora physically protected Catra as best as she could. She defended Catra when Shadow Weaver talked badly about her and tried to get Shadow Weaver to recognize Catra’s talent. She comforted Catra when Catra was obviously sad or scared or angry, even when Catra lashed out. She stood with Catra against bullies, even if Catra was the one that instigated a fight. She acknowledged Catra’s skill and gave her positive reinforcement when authority figures ignored her. She had Catra's back, full stop.

But Adora had to walk a fine line in challenging Shadow Weaver, because if she fought back too much, Shadow Weaver might hurt Catra and Adora worse. We cannot undermine the fact that, Shadow Weaver's favor or not, Adora was ultimately in the same situation as Catra. She was an abused kid that was scared and absolutely powerless in a situation where an authority figure was taking advantage of her and hurting her. That Adora even tried to stop Catra's abuse in the face of her own fear of Shadow Weaver was really, really brave.

But it does make sense why Catra felt like Adora failed at protecting her. Catra was focused on just surviving through the abuse, and she couldn’t recognize that Adora was in a dire situation too, because Catra perceived abuse through the lens of her own experience, and that wasn’t what was happening to Adora. Adora appeared to be the protected favorite, so it seemed to Catra like Adora could’ve done more and chose not to. 

But we, the objective audience, are supposed to know better than that. It was never Adora's responsibility to stop Catra's abuse, and she never should have been made to feel like it was. That is an absolutely unfair expectation to put on any child, let alone on a child that was also being abused. Period. Catra understood that by the end of show, so all of us in the fandom should be able to as well.

Third, it should come as no surprise that innocent and defenseless civilians getting attacked is what really motivated Adora to see the Horde’s true colors. Adora was indoctrinated by the Horde and knew nothing else. She was raised and trained as a solider, and she was told it was her duty to protect Etherians from the evil princesses. She couldn't conceptualize what was happening to her and Catra as abuse, because it seemed like preparation for their life as soldiers. But she damn well knew the supposed good guys attacking a peaceful village of unarmed civilians was wrong.

Her inability to fully recognize her and Catra's abuse for the bad thing it was wasn't some character flaw. It was the result of growing up in a strictly controlled, isolated environment that fed her a steady diet of propaganda and instilled in her a sense of duty to the greater good above all else, including her own life. Her personal suffering did not matter, because it was in service to an important cause. 

Violence was also completely normalized in the Horde, and it was basically the only emotional outlet cadets learned. Are you mad? Punch things. Are you sad? Punch things. Are you ill-equipped in identifying the emotions you’re feeling? Punch things! So nobody was raising an eyebrow at the concept of superior officers berating, threatening, and physically harming cadets. That just seemed to be par for the course. 

Though in reality, the worst of the abuses came from one person. But that just meant Adora could rationalize Shadow Weaver as one commanding officer taking things too far. Shadow Weaver’s personal actions didn't have to be representational of the Horde's overall mission. It didn’t mean the Horde itself or what they were fighting for was bad, it just meant Shadow Weaver was a cruel taskmaster Adora and Catra had to put up with and appease until they could get out from under her thumb and into the field to fight for good.

To summarize this point, Adora was witnessing Catra’s mistreatment (and experiencing her own mistreatment) in the confines of an inherently exploitative system that she had been brainwashed to think was righteous. She not only lacked a frame of reference to conceptualize the abuse, she was also taught this mistreatment was to make them better soldiers. So whatever bad things they suffered, she could tell herself it was manageable because it was all part of a bigger plan to make the world a better place. 

But seeing the Horde attack a village of civilians went against all of that. It was something she could conceptualize as fully wrong, and it showed her that the Horde wasn’t actually trying to do good like she'd always been taught. Presented with that evidence, she had to leave. It was only once she was outside the Horde’s system and was exposed to other ways of life that Adora could really start recognizing and coming to terms with just how badly she and Catra were treated.

[hopeymchope]

Wonder Egg Priority finale thoughts

My Tumblr has a lot of anti-bully content, so it was probably no surprise when I began to watch and enjoy Wonder Egg Project this past spring. The series famously hit production delays that forced them to put out a mid-series recap episode, and that decision in turn forced them to push the final episode until late June. But now that the series (or at least season 1) is out there and complete, I thought I’d talk about how it all shook out in the end as well as the questions it left me sitting with.

For the uninitiated, here’s a bit of the context: Wonder Egg Project deals with four middle-school teen girls who’ve undergone hardships either at home or at school or both. They all lose someone they care about to tragic suicides, and then they discover the titular wonder eggs. They get these eggs from a vending machine and then, when they fall asleep, they enter a dreamworld where these eggs hatch to reveal a young person who recently committed suicide. For that night, it is the duty of the girl who got that egg to fight and defend that suicide victim from monstrous enemies that represent their abusers and oppressors. The girls are told that if they protect enough of these victims over many nights, they will be able to resurrect the specific person they lost to suicide. But of course, if you get injured or killed in the dreamworld, it affects your body in reality as well. 

The squad: Ai, Neiru, Rika, and Momoe.

Obviously, bullying is among the topics most frequently explored here, but we also deal with so many other terrible things that people might experience during childhood and adolescence. Physical, verbal, and sexual abuse are all on the table. Coming to terms with one’s gender identity is raised. It’s a show that manages to tackle a lot of heavy subjects through the lens of what’s essentially magical girl combat. I mean, there are no outfit transformations or any of that stuff, but still.

With THAT out of the way, let me talk about how the series wrapped up.

It’s clear to the viewers that there’s a lot that doesn’t make sense during the show — it’s intentionally very trippy and ethereal at times — and there’s also a lot that raises obvious questions even if you grasp it. Where do the eggs and their connection to the recently deceased come from? How do the psychological traumas of the various egg-children manifest as monsters that can literally kill you? What’s the deal with Acca and Ura-Acca and their freaky dummy bodies? What are they getting out of this whole deal with the eggs and the girls? What do the repeated references to the “temptation of death” mean? How does access to the Egg Garden even work? Is it really possible to resurrect their dead friends? Is Mr. Sawaki a predator or a chill guy or what? Why did Neiru’s sister stab her? And so on. 

The writers could’ve opted to keep things mysterious and hazy and metaphysical for the entire run or they could’ve provided lots of explanations and tried to ground this weird story in some sort of strange logic, but I’m actually pleased that they opted to go down the middle. There are answers for many things, but not for all. And when those answers come, they typically just raise more questions as well as doubts to their validity. 

SPOILERS for the finale/”special episode” below the cut.

So, obviously the answers for Acca and Ura-Acca are centered around Frill. Frill is this interesting fusion between the artificial and the organic; her body can be injured like any regular physical body, but she’s actually an A.I. on the inside. Acca and Ura-Acca are the exact reverse of this — they’re human minds inside of completely artificial bodies. Exactly how Frill started invading girls’ minds to lure them towards suicide is kept incredibly vague, but she serves as the embodiment of the “temptation of death” that was so-often referenced in the show. Frill doesn’t really appreciate life or care about the finality of death, making her a pretty natural foe for the heroes who have spent the entire series learning to appreciate their lives and bemoaning painful losses.

Can you even believe this bitch?

Acca and Ura-Acca also have documents talking about how warriors of Eros need to battle against Thanatos, the embodiment of death, but what’s that all about? We don’t really get into it. Is Frill somehow Thanatos herself? I mean... I guess maybe you could go that route, but I sincerely don’t think that’s meant to be the case. I assume she’s just another player in the game, and she happens to have taken Thanatos’ side in things. Her artificial existence and resentment of her fathers leads her to treat death flippantly. She was programmed to be selfish sometimes, and that selfishness has ultimately manifested itself in the worst possible ways. Intriguingly, we see Acca and Ura-Acca act similarly selfish in how they drive our four heroes to risk their lives just to battle Frill. Acca in particular shows that he’ll risk anyone’s life to get to Frill, who killed both his wife and daughter. But Acca never has to risk his own life. He’s just risking other people. Both sides of the equation are treating human lives like disposable pawns in some kind of war game. 

Y’all are SUPER-SKETCH.

It’s never really clear how these eggs work. We’re told that the Accas created the eggs, and honestly, I could’ve figured as much on my own. But they don’t try to explain how the eggs can contain the souls of suicide victims or how they manifest those people into dreams, and frankly, it’s probably better not to try.

I was really shocked that the girls actually manage to resurrect their dead friends. I was 100% certain that was going to be a scam and the point was going to be about learning to move on and live for the moment and appreciate those bonds while you had them, etc. And there is some of that. Alas, the price of resurrecting those people they care about is that the people in question no longer know them or remember them. That was pretty brutal... having our heroes nearly die over and over in service of people who ultimately will no longer care about them at all. Although they did the impossible and brought someone back to life, they had to lose those people all over again. I suppose this, like much fo the finale, emphasizes that we should appreciate our relationships while they last, because you can lose them for so many reasons. Regardless, I’m not surprised that Momoe just wanted to quit and avoid getting hurt after that. It’s understandable.

There’s a lot of discussion around parallels in the last two episodes. Parallel worlds with alternate versions of the self are raised multiple times, Ai gets an awesome encounter with a parallel version of herself that really brought her emotional journey to a head, and we even have to deal with a doppleganger of Neiru at the end. This leads to the revelation that Neiru looks exactly like her formerly deceased sister... a fact that presumably was part of what drove the sister to attack Neiru in the first place. Given that we’ve already been told that they were both genetically engineered, their identical appearances don’ seem that strange. But then the finale tells us that Neiru’s one dream is “to be human,” and suddenly the characters assume Neiru was an A.I. just like Frill. That... seems like a leap to me. I mean, she was genetically engineered to lead her company and never had a family of her own; no wonder she feels inhuman! So I’m not sure if I should take this at face value.

Neiru real or fake challenge

Another thing that I don’t think we can take at face value is Mr. Sawaki’s explanation of Koito’s death. In episode 12, we meet a parallel version of Ai who actually killed herself. The big boss monster for Ai to fight while protecting Alt-Ai? It’s a dark, abusive version of Sawaki. And our Ai inexplicably assumes this monster was made from her own fears. A very bizarre conclusion to jump to when you remember that every single boss monster has been the abuser of the victim that the girls were defending in that episode. By all available evidence, the Sawaki monster should be a parallel-world Sawaki who is very much exactly the scumbag he appears to be! Notice how Alt-Ai never says a damn word about the Sawaki Monster - never asks who he is or why he’s like this, etc? She’s not even surprised. That just lends further credence to my belief. FOLLOW THE EVIDENCE.

So in the finale, when our version of Mr. Sawaki claims (via a VERY awkwardly inserted voiceover) that Koito’s death was an accident after she tried to ruin his reputation because she fell in love with him, why should I believe any of it?! The previous episode introduced me to Abusive Sawaki! Sure, we don’t have any reason to assume our Sawaki is That Dick, but we JUST learned that he’s certainly capable. Furthermore, how could Koito suddenly be the ONLY accidental death among all of the available suicide victims in the dreamworld? She shouldn’t have even appeared there if it was just an accident! Although I’d like to believe that Sawaki was someone who Ai and the girls were jumping to conclusions about based on nothing... but it sure doesn’t look that way from here. And given how the show ends things, I fear we may have a hard time learning anything else about Sawaki. Ai changes schools and runs away, there is zero comment on what happened to Sawaki’s relationship with her mom... he’s just gone now.

As the final episode winds down, we see Rika and Ai fall back into bad habits, as they all treat Neiru just like they treated the girls they tried so hard to save. Rika acts disgusted by a friend and abandons her, treating Neiru the same way she treated Cheimi. When Neiru finally reaches out to Ai and calls her, Ai ignores the call and throws her phone away, thereby ignoring her friend’s needs in the same way she ignored Koito’s when she failed to record the bullying Koito was experiencing. You might even be able to connect Momoe’s choice to walk away for the sake of self-preservation to her decision to reject Haruka and walk away, honestly. And to compound the bad news that the show gives us near the end, we skip forward months to learn that Ai, Rika and Momoe have all drifted apart. Ai is in a new school, but we don’t see her with any new friends. She’s back where she started the show.

The difference, however, is that she doesn’t seem hopeless and lonely. She seems wistful, sure, but she never seems beaten down. She still treasures the friendships she built even if they wind up fading away. So there’s still a message in here about moving on, because even if you lose a person or a connection, it will forever matter.

*insert engine rev-up noises*

In the final moments, we see Ai preparing to run in the exact same pose she used back in episode 1 when she first stood up to the abusers within the dreamworld. This time, she runs to grab her chance to reunite with a dear friend. She takes charge of her own future and her own self-worth, somehow gets back into the Egg Garden (even though Rika wasn’t even allowed to enter after she rescued her specified victim, so uh... how did Ai get back in exactly... ?), and insists she’s going to use the eggs to see Neiru... even though the eggs only let you see the dead up to this point, so uh, that doesn’t really make any sense either. Consistency, motherfucker — DO YOU USE IT?

Amidst all the uncertainty that the finale left us with, at least we can see Ai find herself in a more confident place. She spends much of the series learning to stop running from her problems in the real world. Even after she gains confidence in the battles of her dreams, she struggles to face reality. It’s a huge step when she returns to school. Yet even in the very last episode, she opts to run away to a new school rather than cope with seeing Koito each day. But at last, she decides to take charge of her reality and try to reunite with her new best friend, Neiru. She’s wavered on her path, but ultimately, she’s grown. Although you could simultaneously argue that she’s failing to learn the lesson that rescuing Koito should’ve taught her...

“Ai Ohto is BACK!”

I don’t think any of us expected this finale to be a cliffhanger coming into it.  And unfortunately, we don’t know if there will ever be another season or a movie or anything. Given how people reacted to this finale with such overt hate, I really don’t expect anything more. And I think that would be a goddamn shame. Even with a finale that doesn’t quite stick the landing, I still found it fascinating and engaging. The series is more than worth the trip for the characters, for the themes and topics it explores, and even for the fluid action scenes and music. And this is a series that was made by first-time writers and a first-time director! Yet I’d easily call it one of the best animes from the past couple of years. For total newcomers, that’s a goddamn TRIUMPH.

So I hope we reunite with these girls again. I hope Ai manages to get the band back together, find out exactly what’s going on with Neiru, and face down Frill. Even if they never wind up in some ultimate battle with Thanatos, I don’t know that that’s the point. All of us are in a battle with Thanatos every single day, after all. They just need to show how they’ve all gotten stronger together and truly overcome the “Temptation of Death” by beating back Frill (and her ridiculously powerful dreamworld bug-people) as a unit. 

But maybe that’s too obvious and simplistic of a message for a show like this one. Maybe this complex ending centered on the main protagonist’s self-actualization and the value of fleeing relationships is more in keeping with the melancholy nature of the series. 

... I still really want to see the more obvious happy ending, though. I think they deserve it.

[oh-so-scenarios]

one | "Familiar”

The King’s Consult - Chapter One: ‘Familiar’ [word count: 4.9k]

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⤑ Kɪᴍ Tᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴɢ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇs ᴀʟʟ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛʟᴇss ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇɴᴇғɪᴛ ʜɪᴍ. Bᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏsᴇɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ. Hᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴀ ᴡɪғᴇ ʙʏ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ. Aɴᴅ ɪᴛ's Y/ɴ's ᴊᴏʙ ғɪɴᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴏɴᴇ, ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇs ɪᴛ ᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛ.

⤑ Arrogant King! Kim Taehyung x Consult! female reader; icequeen!au

~!~

Crown Prince Kim Taehyung - Records Journal entry of November 13th, 2020.

“Winter brings many things. Christmas, cold weather, presents and lastly; my birthday. Some would dread having a birthday so close to Christmas but I didn’t mind. There were more gifts and more to celebrate. However year after year, no one could seem to give me the ultimate Christmas gift. The one I’d been patiently waiting for, for years. Where, oh where...when, oh when will this dear thing I’ve lost, return to me?”

Y/N:

It’s going to be a tough one. Of course, they warned me of such things. Everyone did, even my own father. The half-assed grin he showed me this morning was enough to down my spirits, not that I’d ever let him know that. 

With my block heels clicking as I walked up the stone stairs, my nerves were starting to get the best of me. I felt hot flashes hitting different parts of my body, and I regretted the thick black and white blazer I wore. Under the blazer, I wore a long-sleeve black blouse and some crimson red dress pants with flare bottoms. 

My slim leather briefcase was slung over my shoulder by its longer strap and my cell phone was tucked snug in my pants pocket. 

As if a higher power heard my cry, a gust of cold wind hit me, pushing my blazer open a bit. A small smile pulled at the corner of my lips, and I thanked the cold November air that was washing away the nervous sweats that were accumulating on my forehead. 

The stairs weren’t that long, but it still felt like it was teetering on being too much. There were three sets of square double doors, the middle one being the larger one. 

There were 4 guards, all standing guard with frowns on their lips. One of them spotted me, raising an eyebrow at me before his lips pulled up into a smile.

“Open the doors!” He shouts to the other guards, “It’s just Y/n.” He holds eye contact with me the whole time he’s announcing my presence to the other guards. 

His eyes rank down my body, the lust in his eyes making no attempts at being subtle. I’m not in a mood to muster up a forced but polite smile. I only nod, watching as two other guards open the doors.

“Everyone said you were starting today.” The first guard said, taking a small step closer to me.

“Are they?” I spoke with no interest, “I didn’t think I’d be the talk of the palace.”

“Of course you are!” He chimes flashing a toothy grin, “Everyone is excited to see you go toe-to-toe with His Highness, Prince Taehyung.”

I rolled my eyes at his words, “I’m not here to go toe-to-toe with His Highness, I’m here to do a job.” I stated, taking a small step back to put more space between us. He smelt of cheap cologne, old spice deodorant, and breath mints. 

My face cringed in a reaction as he opened his mouth to speak again, but I cut him off. 

“You really shouldn’t be gossiping about the royal family, they can fire you for breathing too hard so tread lightly and know your place.” I scolded, noticing the stain on his white dress shirt, and the way his in-ear radio was carelessly clipped to his shirt. 

Ugh, he’s a complete mess. 

“Serious about your work, just like your father, I expected just as much. See you around Y/n.” He said winking at me before grinning again.

My face scrunched up in discomfort before I took swift steps towards the opened doors into the huge high ceiling entrance way of the palace. The white walls accompanied by some white pillars are a sight to marvel at. The hard marble floor has beautiful gold designs while a long strip of a thick and fiery red carpet was laid out.

Anyone would stop to stare at the marvelous architecture and atmosphere but I strolled right through, having seen the inside of the palace many times. 

My middle school and early high school days were filled with after school days in the palace, trailing behind my father silently, observing and taking mental notes of everything he did.

My father has been The current King, Kim Taejoon’s advisor since before I was born. He was originally his Majesty’s consult, a temporary advisor for Prince’s during the process of coronation and marriage pursuing. 

He assisted His majesty in preparing for his coronation to King. He was also there in assisting with the finding of a bride, who is now Her Majesty Queen Kim Minji, previously Park Minji of the Busan kingdom. 

Through that marriage, The Kingdom of Seoul, which was previously the Daegu kingdom before expansion, controlled the most kingdoms of all the rulers. This made it so Gangwon-do was the only province not under The Kim’s Royal family and their monarchy. Gangwon-do neighbors the Seoul province which is home to the Royal palace.

The Gangwon-do province is under the Min Royal family, who were the rulers of the Daegu Kingdom before The Kim family came into power. The history is messy and a bit ugly, so it’s understandable that the Min Royal family sees no possibility of the two families merging. 

King Taejoon and Queen Minji had 2 children, a son, and a daughter, though not much is known about their children. Unlike other royal families, ever since the rule of King Taesung(The current King’s father), the children of the royal family are kept out of the spotlight till a certain age. 

His Highness Prince Taehyung’s face wasn’t known to the public till he was 19 years old. He’s turning 25 next month and I can’t say the country knows much about him. I’d only seen him in passing when I was tailing my father in the palace. He didn’t speak much, often showing scoffs or sadistic smirks in reply to things. But it doesn’t matter what I think of him, it matters what the Kingdom thinks of him.

I was assigned to Prince Taehyung’s consultation, and if I do well, I could be assigned his advisor. I’d be set with a wonderful job and wonderful pay for life. 

A lot of friends ask me why I settled on such a career, seeing as Royal advisors have no social life and basically have their whole lives revolve around their royal client. I’ve seen that first hand, watching my dad miss family events, birthdays, and important milestones in my life.

Though the lack of his presence has caused us to grow distant, I can’t say I’m mad at him. I sort of wish I resented him but from the moment I was born, my father was always all about the royal family. I never had any other expectations.

My father has nothing to do with my decision to take this career path, and I can’t pinpoint what the turning point was, but the royal family interested me. 

“I know it’s easy to say everyone is human and though that is true, never put yourself on the same playing field as royals.” My father says sternly, “They are not your equals, and will never be. They look at common people like us through a lens of constant pity and obligation.”

I stare up at him, my 15-year-old mind not fully understanding the heaviness of his words. 

“Never mistake their kindness for fondness, I have seen first hand the royals believe they owe loyalty to no one, not even their own people.”

Those are words my father has drilled into me since I told him I wanted to pursue this field of work. A consultant's job is to not be seen and to barely be heard. I understand, and that may have worked with His Majesty Taejoon, but Prince Taehyung is another case.

I know my place. I am a commoner, an obligation to the royal family but I am going to my job well. I will not spare Prince Taehyung’s feelings. If in the presence of those who look down on me as having nothing...I’ll make sure to retain my honesty. 

At the end of the entryway stands a familiar figure. Her hair slicked back just like mine, but flowing down her back into a nice ponytail. 

She wore all black; her blazer, her blouse and the pencil skirt were all black. Her heels were even black, with red bottoms making an appearance with the slightest foot movements. Her pink painted lips stretched into a friendly smile and I smiled back.

“Michelle, it’s so good to see you!” I say as I get closer to her. She opens her arms and pulls me into a hug. I wasn’t really prepared for it, but I returned anyway. 

She smelt of a heavy fragrance that was also pulling my senses into a tight hug. As we pulled back from the hug, I readjusted the briefcase hanging from my shoulder. 

“I knew with your father’s recommendation, you would be His Majesty’s choice for Prince Taehyung’s consultation. He said something about, a young person such as yourself would understand the Prince well.” She chuckles at the statement, her eyes scrunching closed to show some crows feet. 

Michelle is youthful for her age, though I don’t know exactly how old she is, she has been the Queen’s advisor since I could remember. She says her youthful appearance is due to her constant smiling. She was so different from my father in her methods. 

Unlike my father who was stiff and often aloof to His Majesty’s attempts in establishing a friendship, Michelle was more like girl pals with Her Majesty. Michelle was always smiling and radiating a kind aura, just like the Queen. 

Though it could be that a Queen’s duties differ from a King’s duties. That doesn’t mean Michelle’s job isn’t tough. She studied the history of South Korea, along with extensive political studies. She needs to know everyone and everything, since she would be advising her Majesty. 

It must have been harder for her, since she isn’t native to South Korea; maybe that’s why we relate to each other so well.

But the studying for such a job never stops. We must always keep up with things changing around the world, and how they could affect South Korea. It’s a job that requires you to change along with the times, leaving barely any time for something else. 

“I can’t be certain if I could understand him, but I’ll do my best to assist him.” I answered, straightening out my blazer. 

“I’m sure you will, the coronation process is always so hectic, so I wish you the best of luck. His highness is gonna be tough to mold.” She whispers, before waving her hand for me to follow her. I stroll right next to her, knowing exactly where we were headed. 

This whole wing of the palace is strictly political. As we exited the entryway, the hallway we were walking through almost acted as a balcony, giving a preview of the large ballroom that was the center of this wing.

We took a turn to a completely walled hallway. We were headed to the executive conference room. That’s how it always happens. It’s nearing December and the royal family meets to sort through the plans for the coming year. 

“How is it going?” I asked as we turned another corner, the walls now a rich creme color with gold details and gold light fixtures.

She kisses her teeth, “Not so well, Prince Taehyung is less than enthusiastic about this stage of his life. His Majesty is usually pretty lenient with the Prince since he shows potential in his political plans for the kingdom, but the two are butting heads.”

“Why is that?” 

Michelle sighs, “His Highness feels like his father is rushing the process, and if it feels rushed and forced the general public will be more reluctant to accept him.”

Well...that makes sense. I don’t have to say anything for Michelle to look at me with a pressed smirk.

“Exactly.” She said when she held my gaze, “Prince Taehyung isn’t stupid he’s just difficult.”

“It would have made things easier if he was an airhead.” I said under my breath. Michelle giggles as she catches wind of my words.

“It’s easier to mold stupid.” She muttered in agreeance as we came to a heavy looking door, guarded by too many men in white dress shirts and black slacks. 

They gave both of us a nod of acknowledgement then Michelle stepped forward and opened the door. I followed in behind her, a wave of goosebumps hitting my skin at the difference in temperature. The room was a bit colder than the hallway, leaving my body to react.

Why would they have the AC so high? It’s November for goodness sake.

She gently closes the door behind her and comes to stand beside me. We stood near the door, waiting for a time to introduce our presence.

“That’s such a shallow approach.” A deep voice said. The room was wide, and long but the ceilings weren’t too high. There were no windows and the walls were alder wood panels. In the middle of the room was a large rectangular table that stretched out. There were many seats at the table but right now there were only a few people.

His Majesty King Taejoon sat at the head of the table. Sitting to his right was the Queen. Beside the Queen was a lovely young lady. Princess Cho-hee sat there in sweats. She looks like she was dragged out of bed. Seeing as It’s 9am on a Saturday, I can understand her carelessness. 

Her eyes were glued to her phone and she wasn’t tuning in to the conversation at all. 

Sitting to the left of King Taejoon was who I presumed to be Prince Taehyung. From where we were standing, the King was directly facing us, so I could see Prince Taehyung’s profile. 

He leaned back in the chair, his arms crossed over his chest in a bored manner. He stared up at the ceiling and wasn’t looking at the King as he spoke.

His hair was black and a bit long. His bangs were almost in his eyes, but not enough to obscure his sight. His hair had curls in it, so I’d say it was permed. He had strong features, looking a lot more like his father than his mother. 

He wore a white shirt with a grey cardigan. His fingers were graced with some rings and his hands were also so pretty. He oozes high class and wealth. 

“Excuse me?” King Taejoon responds.

The Prince looked at his father, a dull and bored expression in his eyes.

“You claim that you want to mend things with the Min family, by forming an allyship with them. I agree with that. But through marriage?” 

“You just don’t want to get married.” His Majesty argued. 

Taehyung smiled, nodding his head, “That’s partially correct, but I’m looking at the bigger picture. Mending things with the Min family through marriage is lazy.” 

The room grew heavy as the Prince’s sharp tone didn’t match the smirk on his lips. 

“Marrying the Min Family’s princess doesn’t actually resolve anything. Why are we all dancing around the issues with the Min family and their kingdom? It’ll be a slap in the face to them to try to fix things through marriage.” 

“What do you suggest, son?” The King raised an eyebrow at Taehyung. His tone revealed true curiosity, but his face showed doubt. He wasn’t sure what the Prince was going to suggest, seeing as the history with the Min Kingdom is a rough one.

“We need to find a place and time to discuss things. We’ll probably have to involve the United Nations. A formal apology needs to be issued to them, followed by a plan that will show growth for both Kingdoms. It’ll be a long road but it’s better than an allyship formed by marriage.” Taehyung says, followed by a yawn. 

“Can you guarantee success?” The Queen suddenly speaks up, looking at both her husband and son. Her fiery eyes didn’t give anything away. That’s one thing the Queen was always good at. Her eyes were always kind and sweet no matter the situation, but I’m certain her thoughts were racing. 

“No, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they spit in our faces,” Prince Taehyung says confidently. He fiddles with the rings on his fingers while pondering. 

“It’s most likely they’d spit in our faces either way. We can’t be surprised. We’re cleaning up grandpa’s mess.” Prince Taehyung says it casually but an audible gasp sounds through the room. It almost felt like the room got colder and a miserable stillness fell over the room. 

I was almost scared to breathe too loudly. Everyone except for Prince Taehyung had gotten visibly stiff. Princess Cho-hee even stopped to look up from her phone. Her eyes started around the faces at the table. 

His Majesty, the King, was staring at his son with harsh and surprised eyes. Prince was unaware, still focusing on his rings.

Prince Taehyung’s grandfather….King Taesung. A true tyrant. I shivered at the thought of the man, hoping Michelle didn’t notice. 

Prince Taehyung’s Grandfather King Taesung started off as commander and chief for the Daegu Kingdom when it was under the Min family’s rule. 

The path taken to bring the Kim family to the power they have now was an awful one. Overtaking the Min family and gaining rule of Daegu. The Min family fled Gangwon-do, a province that was also under their rule. Over the years King Taesung conquered more and more provinces. After conquering the Seoul province they moved the capital from Daegu to Seoul and called it the Seoul Republic of South Korea.

King Taesung made no attempt to conquer Gangwon-do, leaving the Min family in power of the province to this day. King Taesung was an awful ruler. Harsh, demanding and cold hearted. He struck fear into the people, and only craved power. 

I never met him before he died, only heard of him through history books and from my father. My father became King Taejoon’s consult while the kingdom was still under Kim Taesung’s rule. My father often spoke of how no warmth could be felt from that man. 

His presence commanded respect and he carried his authority on his shoulders. Under his rule, the economy did...okay. There was no growth and most of the population lived middle class lives. King Taesung did not care about the options of his people. The people had no trust in the Kim royal family.

Those who spoke ill of King Taesung would be jailed or worse. He severed alliances with other countries, removing all of the Seoul Republic of South Korea. The Gangwon-do Republic of South Korea stayed a part of the United Nations, having them gain support from America, France and more. 

King Taesung’s thirst for power weakened the country in the long run. 

They try to speak as little of him as possible. Not only for the sake of the politicians, but for King Taejoon. Though it’s never been confirmed, it’s said that King Taesung was very abusive to his children. 

I whole-heartedly believe the only reason my father let me shadow him starting in high school was because King Taesung died a few months before that.

King Taejoon has been doing his best to regain the people’s trust in the Kim family and undo the damage his father created. The Seoul Republic of Korea has mended their ties with many other countries and are now part of the United Nations again.

Under King Taejoon’s rule, the economy soared and the people were doing better. Things are going well, but there is an underlying panic among the general public. 

The public barely knows Prince Taehyung and are worried if they’ll land themselves another tyrant King.

“What?” Prince Taehyung said after looking up from his hands. He looked at his mother and father, his perplexed facial expression proving that he truly didn’t feel the shift in the air.

“You’re such an idiot!” His sister hisses at him. 

The Prince shows a playful smile to his sister before turning his attention back to his father.

“I am not going to be married off as a deal to keep peace but grandpa was an autocrat.” Taehyung adds before turning his attention back to his rings. He fiddles with them, randomly adjusting them while everyone else is left with the tense atmosphere caused by his words.

I took in a deep breath through my nose, knowing that his plainspoken attitude would be left for me to deal with. 

As if he hadn’t noticed us before, the King holds eye contact with me. His eyes grow wide with excitement, and he glances at his son. Taehyung was still occupied by his rings, now moving onto the watch on his wrist. 

“What do you think Ms. L/n?” He asks me as a small smile appears on his lips. I wasn’t expecting him to ask my opinion. I should be honest right? 

My eyes flicker to Prince Taehyung who was no longer looking at his watch. His eyes were on me. He still looked bored but his body language changed. He leaned back on arm rest on the chair so his body was facing my way. 

I held eye contact with him for a moment, moving my attention back to the King. But not quickly enough to miss the way Prince Taehyung’s eyes moved down my body. 

“Your Majesty, you’d like my opinion on the Min family matter?” I clarify. 

The King nods, “Yes! And just call me Mr. Kim. I’ve known your father for too long for all these formalities.” 

“I believe…” I trail off, moving my eyes back to Prince Taehyung who was now staring at me with narrow eyes. He no longer looked bored. He looked like he was waiting to meet my eyes again. When our eyes met he raised his brows swiftly as if to tease me.

Ugh. There he goes. I heard he likes to act like that. When I was briefed on the Prince’s general behavior, I was warned he likes to flirt to distract from his work. He flirts as if to show that he takes nothing seriously. He’s a jokester in some ways and oddly overserious in others. That’ll be no problem for me to deal with. 

I can’t lie, he’s a very beautiful man, but none of that matters. I’m only here for a job. Pointless flirting and teasing from Prince Taehyung is just something that comes with the job. I hope he doesn’t take me for a woman that can be swayed by looks. My father raised me stronger than that. 

“I believe that Prince Taehyung is right,” I look back to the King, “The method of mending ties with the Min Royal family is going to need more than a marital union. It would be seen as a shallow and lazy approach by the Min family.” I answered honestly, ignoring the small grin that appeared on Prince Taehyung’s face. 

He turns to the King, “Do you believe it now that a consultant said it?” The grin now held a sinister undertone. 

The King ignores the question and waves me forward. Michelle leaves her spot beside me and makes her way to stand by the Queen. I walk the other way and walk till I am standing beside his Majesty, putting me between him and Prince Taehyung.

I left some space so I wasn’t too close to them, adjusting my briefcase strap on my shoulder. The King shows me a wide smile.

“I’m so glad to see you Y/n! I would always see you following behind your father and here you are! You’re going to by consulting my son! Oh how time flies.” He said. Prince Taehyung, who couldn’t keep his eyes off me, was now reaching into his pocket to grab his phone. He started scrolling through text messages. 

Ugh, rude.

“Taehyung, this is Y/n! I told you she would be your consultant! She knows her stuff and I believe she’ll help you over the next year.”

He was fiercely typing something, and I heard the phone as he pressed ended and sent a text message. Before his father could yell at him to pay attention, he was looking up at me. 

“Yeah, I remember you telling me.” He answers his father while holding eye contact with me. He had a playful glint in his eyes.

“Does she know the schedule?” He turns back to his father. 

“I’m certain she does. Y/n is always on top of things.” The King looks at me expectantly. I notice the Queen also watching me with a small smile. 

I didn’t expect the King and Queen to act so familiar with me. I’d only see them in passing when I was shadowing my father. Though I remember my father speaking often of how close King Taejoon always attempted to get. 

He called my father his friend, very often.

 “Yes,” I answer, noticing now that everyone’s attention was on me. 

“His Highness Prince Taehyung turns 25 next month, he will be having a celebration and his Majesty will announce the succession. The coronation is next year in September. Prince Taehyung should have the proper studies and traditions complete by then. He is also expected to be engaged by December next year.” I explained, looking at both Prince Taehyung, the Queen and the King.

The only one smiling was the King. He nodded his head confirming that I was right. 

“Y/n?” The Queen’s smooth voice called out. I looked at her, waiting for her comment. 

She leaned forward a bit, “Do you believe you will be able to meet those deadlines?” She wasn’t doubting me, but the look in her eyes asked a different question.

My son is difficult, are you sure you can handle him?

“Certainly.” I answered confidently. 

“All this talk of engagement is pointless! I already have a person in mind!” Taehyung exclaimed, causing his mother and his sister to roll their eyes.

“You’ve been saying that forever!” His sister contends, “We know you’re lying! Stop trying to stall on things.” His sister looks at me.

“Don’t entertain him on that notion. He doesn’t have anyone in mind. He’s been pulling my parents legs for a few months, hoping to stall the process.” She explains glaring at her older brother. 

Prince Taehyung abruptly turns to me, surprising me as he took one of my hands in both of his. 

“Marry me?” He said breathlessly, his eyes wide and twinkling. 

I stare down at him, not amused or moved. 

I gaze down at him for a moment, sure that the annoyance I’m feeling is visible on my face. 

A scoff sounds from Cho-hee. The princess grins, “She didn’t even blink. She’s not moved at all.” 

Prince Taehyung drops my hand, the dreamy look in his eyes fading.

“Your heart wasn’t stirred?” He asked.

“No.” I answer.

“Not even a bit? Your heart didn’t skip a beat?” 

“No, your highness..” I answer.

Cho-hee snickers, “Yeah Tae, not every woman wants a prince to sweep them off their feet.” Cho-hee looks at me again, eager to share something. 

“He also asked the 52 year old pastry chef to marry him.” She informs me. 

I’m sure he did. 

“And that random female bodyguard.” The Queen added. 

Cho-hee leans over to her mother, “He sees no significance in marriage or love. You gave birth to a robot mom.” I noticed Michelle, who was silent behind the Queen, stifled a giggle.

Cho-hee whispered loud enough for everyone to hear causing Prince Taehyung to snap back.

“And you’re a gremlin so I guess mom was giving birth to all types of weird things!”

Cho-hee gasps, “Take that back!” 

Their banter becomes background noise as the King asks for my attention again.

“Y/n, please take good care of my son.” He says in a low voice. 

“Of course.” I bowed slightly, glancing at The Prince Taehyung who was back to scrolling on his phone. 

I don’t have much more to say to him, but rather turn to Michelle. 

“I’ll show you where your office is.” Michelle says kindly. I nod, make my move to follow her. I stop short and look at Prince Taehyung again.

“I look forward to working for you, your highness.” I bow slightly. Prince Taehyung looks my way. I watch his eyes move from my face and down to my...chest? No...my neck. He glances at my neck and back up to my eyes.

“Flattery doesn’t work on me.” He mutters, and stares at his phone screen.

“Thankfully, I am here to do a job, not win you over.” I say sternly. 

Fuck! I shouldn’t have said that! He gawks at me with wide eyes, surprised by my comment, while Princess Cho-hee covers her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing. 

The King simply watches our interaction silently with the Queen smirks. 

I bow once more before walking around the table to get to Michelle waiting patiently at the door. 

“That was a bit too far.” She said as we exited the room, “Your father--”

“My father’s methods are not my methods.” I cut her off, “I won’t let him walk all over me. My father was too passive. I am not.”

❄...❄...❄...❄...❄

So, how are y’all feeling about this? So, idk how long i want this series to be. according to my outline its gonna be 12 parts but i never stick to my outline. Please let me know what you think! :DD

This story is gonna have a lot of world building and a lot of information (Kingdoms, history, politics), so please PLEASE if you are confused about anything, ask me in the inbox!

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 06 (first part)

(Masterpost)(Episode 05)

Warning: This contains spoilers for All 50 Episodes

Bad Boys Bad Boys What You Gonna Do

Nie Huasang’s brought his nuts, and someone’s brought wine, so the boys are drinking in Wei Wuxian’s guest house. Finally he gets to drink some of the Emperor’s Smile wine that he’s been doing all those product placements for.

Boys, get a bowl or something for your shells, were you raised in a barn?

Wei Wuxian hits on waxes poetic about the wine, and Jiang Cheng tells him to shut up. 

Wang Zhuocheng’s raw-fish-eating face may have failed him, but his drunk faces do not disappoint.

Wei Wuxian teases Jiang Cheng about his list of standards for a chick: She should have natural beauty, be virtuous and caring, from a good family, not too talkative, with a gentle voice, and not too capable. Also she should not spend too much money. Drunken running ensues.

Cue Maple Leaf Rag by Scott Joplin

(more behind the cut)

Much of the fandom has decided this list is a good fit for Nie Huaisang himself, and it sorta is. But he is both talkative and unvirtuous, what with all the current sneakiness, and all the eventual murders. 

This also definitely doesn't fit Wen Qing because she's capable as hell.  

This list is, however, a 100% a match for Jiang Yanli. Not in a weird, Jin Guangyao way--a lot of men want to marry a woman like their sister.  In a gender-divided and generation-divided society, a man’s sister might be the only woman he’s ever known well. Jiang Cheng adores Yanli and she’s his ideal model of a woman, as opposed to his mother, who...isnt.  

All these robes and talismans over the door do nothing to stop Lan Wangji from strolling in.  

Okay so - Lan Wangji is the senior disciple of the Lan Clan, yea? There is no way that patrolling the guest area is in any way his job. He is just walking around here at night specifically to see what Wei Wuxian is doing.

I already did a gifpost of the boys and their totally nonsexual horseplay, over here. I’ll just add, for sad factor, that Jiang Cheng is play-choking Wei Wuxian when they’re all on the bed, and later in the running-and-crying episode he is gonna for-real choke him. Foreshadowing! or maybe just coincidence!

One fun thread running through the young-cultivators episodes is that Nie Huaisang is legit terrified of Lan Wangji while also having a major aesthetic crush on him. Look at how flustered he is here, trying to act sober while also checking him out. 

Lan Wangji is shocked and visibly upset - what are you guys doing? This is not his busting face, this is, for a moment, his vulnerable and disillusioned face. He is super not used to what normal people are like. 

Wei Wuxian doesn't lie or otherwise try to get off the hook, which has got to have Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang grinding their teeth in frustration. He invites Lan Wangji to join them for a drink. LWJ cites a the “no drinking on campus” rule and WWX tries to convince him to chill. 

Then we have this lovely coordinated faint by the boys, to get out of going to get punished. Nie Huaisang has been practicing fainting in front of a mirror just in case he ever needs a skill like that in the future. 

Wei Wuxian keeps trying to turn this into a date. Eventually Lan Wangji is so upset he admits he can’t take all three of them by himself. 

Then the boys run away fake-barfing and Wei Wuxian hits Lan Wangji with a talisman. 

Steal His Agency That’s What You’re Gonna Do

What Wei Wuxian does to Lan Wanji here is definitely wrong. But it's not entirely a disaster.  It allows some crucial information to be shared between them, and it results in Wei Wuxian getting the utter shit beat out of him and never doing this again. I mean, he continues to mind-control his enemies and their eventual corpses, but he doesn't intentionally violate a friend or ally's autonomy in the future. Uhh not counting that whole golden core surgery-without-consent situation. And probably some other situations I’ve forgotten. He improves slightly, okay? 

It’s important to note, incidentally, that the Lan rules about drinking and other “vices” should not be viewed through a Christian lens. The Lans are neither puritans nor ascetics (look at their clothes, furniture, and jewelry, for starters). Being drunk is forbidden probably because it’s a loss of self-control. 

Speaking of self-control, mad props to Wang Yibo for being able to have zero physical reaction to fingers snapping in his face.

Drunk Lan Wangji

Under duress, Lan Wangji knocks back a cup of wine and promptly passes most of the way out. 

Wei Wuxian puts Lan Wangji into bed not unkindly, but pretty much like a sack of potatoes. Compare this to how tenderly he handles Lan Wangji the next time he’s drunk. 

WWX tells LWJ to call him Wei Gege, and giggles. Is this a term of endearment in this context? So far the various boys are calling each other -xiong, not -ge or gege.  In Western media, men calling each other “bro” is basically saying “no homo,” but brotherhood and sisterhood in C-Drama is often a way of indicating stronger love than friendship, without saying whether it's sexual or not. 

They finally start to have a conversation, and when Lan Wangji explains that no-one can touch his headband except, etc etc, Wei Wuxian stops trying to touch it. So at least he's not a handsy bastard in addition to all his other faults. 

Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji that his clan is boring and women won't want to marry him. Lan Wangji says that's fine. On one level this is the show acknowledging that he's gay, but I think he's responding in a gender-neutral way; he doesn't want to marry anyone. Marriage, from his perspective, is the literal worst. 

We don't know how he felt about his father, but he definitely loved his mother deeply, and she had a profoundly unhappy marriage, in which her husband did not provide companionship and her children were taken from her.

A note about all that: The dynamics of heterosexual marriages in The Untamed are not based on contemporary companionate marriage. Sex and reproduction is a wife's job in this world, and giving a gentry woman the option to choose her husband is radical. Wei Wuxian is the only one who dares say that Jiang Yanli should have a choice when Jin Guangshan casually tries to give her to his son in front of everyone.  

OP made this today but will totally reuse it when episode 23 rolls around

So Lan Wangji’s parents' marriage was extremely problematic but not necessarily for the reasons it would be in contemporary terms. Having signed on to marry Lan Dad, Mom would have expected to live together and get laid regularly (important for health, in some traditional views, regardless of love/no love) and to have the company of her children. Instead, she was isolated. Lan Dad wanted to have it both ways and so even though he loved her and apparently hooked up with her sometimes, he didn't do his duty by her. She didn't love him but she did her duty. 

Wei Wuxian continues to not get it, calling Lan Wangji dull and babbling about Lan Wangji’s parents until he realizes that LWJ is an orphan like him. 

A nice shift happens here. Once the penny drops, Wei Wuxian doesn't ask a single additional question - he just sees - by reading Lan Wangji’s face - what the deal is, and shares his own story to show he understands. 

This is the first time Wei Wuxian mentions being chased by dogs, which is kind of a big deal, because why was he left all alone when his parents died? 

Why didn't anyone take him in before Jiang Fengmian found him? How isolated are independent cultivators in this world? 

Tea Time

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen are having tea, and the Lan Clan is so uptight they don't touch each other's teacups. I don't know what this thing is called so I'm going to call it a tea speculum. 

Lan Qiren is back from the cultivation conference and says the red crack plague is happening over in Qinghe where the Nie clan lives.  Lan Xichen fills him in on the water demon, specifically saying Wei Wuxian figured out the connection to the red crack dudes, and explaining who WWX is, as if Lan QIren hadn't already thrown stuff at him and threatened to eventually kill him. 

Fun fact that I just noticed this week so didn't make it into earlier posts: In Episode 46, when Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are in the Jiang ancestral hall, WWX says he was often punished to kneel there, and LWJ said that they heard about this in Gusu.  

So when WWX came to Gusu he already had a reputation as a troublemaker, and the Lan brothers were aware of it.   

Busted and Beaten

A Lan snitch comes in to say that Wei Wuxian has successfully corrupted Lan Wangji, which really shouldn’t cause as much surprise as it does.

“Wei Wuxian got drunk”

“Lan Wangji got drunk”

Lan Xichen takes a moment to consider carefully whether Wei Wuxian is a good friend for his little brother and whether perhaps he was too hasty in throwing them together. Ha ha ha no he doesn’t. 

On the punishment porch, Lan Xichen tries to lecture Lan Wangji in a calm way, but Lan Qiren wants to beat him and Lan Wangji wants to get beat. Wei Wuxian can’t understand why Lan Wangji doesn’t let him take the blame for the drinking. 

Lan Qiren goes way the fuck overboard with this punishment because he's angry--losing control and losing his sense of proportion--and Lan Xichen is shocked. The drone camera watching from above is also shocked.  

Lan Qiren has a few (very few) redeeming qualities, but his extreme rigidity and chronic resentment of anyone he perceives as bad are serious problems. His nephews are both struggling with complex moral quandaries as they get older, and he is absolutely no help to them in resolving their conflicts.

This is definitely...a style of parenting & teaching, but you can see how poorly it works, with Lan Wangji straight up saying “fuck it” after many years of conformity.  Lan Xichen is devoted to the middle path and tries to be obedient. But he is actually not walking anywhere near the middle path, as he gets pulled into colluding with a murderer at the same time as getting dragged onto his brother’s carnival ride. These men need parenting that isn’t so, uh, fucking stupid. (Yes, grown adults still need good parenting; watch Go Ahead if you doubt me) 

Wei Wuxian initially yells and falls down when he gets hit, but then he sees Lan Wangji is taking the beating without any reaction and he tries to do the same. 

Aftermath

Jiang Yanli gently lectures the boys, blaming Jiang Cheng for Wei Wuxian's drinking.  Jesus Christ, he's the younger sibling, could you just NOT, Yanli?  

Both boys ask Yanli not to tell their parents. The boys bicker about who's at fault and then Wei Wuxian shifts to baby voice and starts whining to Yanli about the pain. 

Yanli tells him to suck it up, and says after school she'll -- ok and I know this will be a surprise for everyone -- make soup for them. The boys immediately get back on the same team, which is team Please Put Meat In the Soup.

There's a nice character building moment for Wei Wuxian here. When he sees Lan Xichen he initially turns away to avoid running into him, but then he adults-up and goes to face him and greet him, giving him a half of a bow because of the pain, the pain. Rather than complaining about his punishment he meekly asks if he's broken another rule. 

Lan Xichen tells him that he did wrong but that Lan Qiren’s punishment was too harsh, and then in what is one of my favorite Lan Xichen moments, invites Wei Wuxian to use the cold spring to heal, but doesn't invite Jiang Cheng to go with him even though Jiang Cheng also was beaten. Lan Xichen, Matchmaker Auntie Extraordinaire. 

Then he answers Wei Wuxian’s question about his mom by saying she was just like Wei Wuxian and drove Lan Qiran up the wall. Jiang Cheng's reaction to that is really sweet. He does enjoy Wei Wuxian at the same time as being constantly irritated by him. 

Lan Xichen does his patented “breaking off in the middle of saying something and leaving out a chunk of the story” maneuver, although this time he doesn't include a flute solo. 

OP is mildly obsessed with Xuan Lu’s shoulders in this outfit. Also Yanli has an interesting sword, that's got some wood carving similar to Subian, but without the organic look, which OP only noticed because of screen capping Xuan Lu’s shoulders.  

Club Ruohan

Wen Qing continues to be pretty and slightly evil at this stage, sending magic fire notes to her boss using this talisman that is definitely floating in the air and not just hanging from a string. 

Wen Ruohan is in the mosh pit with his zombie groupies while he reads Wen Qing’s extremely vague status update and says "it all makes sense." 

Reach out and touch faith

Soundtrack

Maple Leaf Rag by Scott Joplin Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode

Writing Prompt

How did Wei Wuxian’s parents die?

Admin Notes

I’m going to start spacing out my “first part” and “second part” posts by a few days.  I’ll update this post to link up the second part once I post it, and my masterpost is always up to date. 

Also: if you want more of my original content but don’t want to follow my whole blog (not following is fine!), I keep a pinboard of fun stuff at the top of my blog. I try to post original content at least once a week.

Continued in the second part later this week!

[yukisohmasmokesweed]

I recently watched 1x10 for the pod and realized just how much of a peek-behind-the-curtain episode this is for Shigure. The episode does a great job breaking down Shigure’s motivations, agenda, and objective as well as exploring some of his morality and self-perception in a really subtle and nuanced way. I wanted to break down what exactly was said in the episode and what the subtext is showing us about who Shigure is and what he wants: an obsessive man who puts his selfish desires first, always, all while trapping himself deeply within the very curse that he is trying to break.

Motivation: The Dream

Each zodiac’s curse manifests in different ways. For example, Yuki experiences the curse through the lens of social isolation and self-blame, Kyo through familial rejection and projected blame, Hatori through resignation and grief, Ritsu through extreme guilt, etc. Shigure’s manifests as obsession.

This dream was something special to all of them, but it soured over time. The anime implies for Hatori that it was because of Kana,

but I believe that was the last straw in a haystack of crushing oppression for Hatori (see: having the ability to erase memories and being expected to carry out the task no matter who it hurts by the family as a whole, Akito, and his father, who also had this power). As for Ayame, he does not fit in with the Sohma’s traditionalism and conservatism and he never attempted to do so, and as an adult he has done everything he can to divorce himself from the Sohma image—going into a non-traditional and arguably taboo field of work, moving away from the estate, and keeping secrets from the family, even his own brother. Kureno is a special case and Ritsu was too young to remember this. For Shigure though, he became obsessed with this feeling, and because he didn’t have the bad experiences Hatori had growing up or chafe too hard against the family culture like Ayame, it became a life-long obsession that, over time, shifted from chasing that “feeling” to chasing Akito as an individual.

A note about the Dog: The Year of the Dog’s defining trait is loyalty, but they are also notably stubborn. This doesn’t speak to the authorial intent (Takaya added the zodiac aspect to the story late in the game, after their characters was set), but I also think that Shigure being the Dog is a great indicator as to why, out of everyone, Shigure’s curse manifests as obsession, and why he’s in love with Akito despite Akito’s treatment of him, the other zodiacs, and other people as a whole.

Agenda: Emotional manipulation

Shigure believes that the curse has weakened over time. The dragon was apparently not always a seahorse, which implies that the magic is weakening, and this is the first time in a long time where all of the zodiacs have been alive at the same time. Due to this as well as their closeness in age and the agitation present between Akito and the zodiacs, Shigure thinks that this is the curse’s last hurrah before breaking.

Shigure wants to speed up the process by exacerbating what he believes to be an already unraveling curse by turning the zodiacs against Akito, showing them that their lives have meaning and potential outside of the curse, and influencing them to start questioning the narrative around the curse as a whole as well as the ones around each of their individual zodiacs.

The curse’s most obvious effect is the physical one, but the emotional component is arguably much more significant. This is why Shigure is agitating the zodiac’s emotions. He often says things he knows will hurt them, but instead of hurling insults like Akito, what he says challenges the zodiac’s beliefs about themselves, one another, the curse, and Sohma family as a whole. He is aiming for their internal lives and beliefs in a way that makes his meddling seem almost invisible; he manipulates through influence instead of force, orchestrating it so that the zodiacs feel as if they have come to a new conclusion on their own. Here is how 1x10 shows us that tactic:

Shigure is trying to push Kyo into realizing that his feelings for Yuki are more influenced by the Sohmas than he thinks they are (implication of the word “duty,” that it’s not something Kyo chose for himself), and that if he takes a step back from the situation that he might see that him and Yuki have more in common than he thinks (”afraid of getting to know him”).

However, this doesn’t work, and it’s directly because Shigure has known who he is and what he wants since childhood. He has never had to struggle with his own personhood, identity, isolation, and blame the way that Kyo has—not to say that he hasn’t at all, but not to the extent of the Cat. Shigure logically knows why Kyo hates Yuki, but he can’t put himself in Kyo’s shoes because their experience with the curse are too different; Shigure fully embraced the curse, falling into obsession over it and making the choice to permanently attach himself to Akito, and that decision is rewarded for the most part. Kyo, on the other hand, has spent his entire life being rejected and ostracized by his family as well as being scapegoated for things he had no control over. Kyo’s issues with blame and isolation are not something that Shigure can empathize with, leading him to get frustrated with Kyo’s stubbornness and pushing Kyo too hard before he’s ready. All in all it’s not bad advice, but Kyo’s issues run extremely deep, and Shigure got impatient. This scene is Shigure messing up, indelicately going to the heart of the matter because his timeline of events is moving slower than he bargained for, and he accidentally shows his hand because of it.

Objective: Akito

Shigure’s objective is to be on equal terms with Akito and pursue a real relationship with them. The only way to do this is to break the curse, freeing Shigure from Akito’s power and taking Akito’s command over him away, as well as undermining the importance of the other zodiacs in Akito’s life. 

The anime does a nice job portraying this to us subtextually by visually juxtaposing the relationships that are the main focus of this episode:

Tohru lowers herself to meet Kyo where he is, whereas Shigure positions himself physically above Akito. The former is a relationship built on equality and mutual trust, the latter one on an inherent and unavoidable power imbalance, resulting in jealousy, toxicity, and a constant struggle for power.

At first glance the shot of Shigure and Akito would imply that Shigure is the one with the power due to their positioning, but it is Akito who has the power. Akito doesn’t stand up to greet him, simply expecting Shigure to come to them and bend at the waist to accommodate their position. Shigure tries to assert his power here by being physically larger and looming, but Akito is so confident in theirs that they wordlessly watch as Shigure does the exact thing Akito wanted.

Morality: Always looking out for #1

Shigure’s goal is a selfish one, and he has leaned into that completely. He is gloatingly self-aware, which allows him to further his plans without any moral qualms in the way.

The inner circle of the Sohma family has a strong culture of pervasive cruelty. We see it over and over again—Kyo’s treatment by the people around him, Haru’s, Yuki’s, Hatori’s, Rin’s, etc etc. Cruelty is extremely normalized within the family, and you can see even in this fairly casual conversation that Shigure and Hatori take shots at one another (other scenes where this happens between them include 2x7, 2x25, off the top of my head). The line of what is deemed “acceptable” in a larger societal sense is much farther for the Sohma family, and this greatly influenced Shigure’s sense of morality and decency. He is intelligent enough to know that hurting others is wrong, but it’s what has been modeled for him his entire life and something he’s participated in before for various reasons. Hurting others is normal for him and of a small blip in his radar in the grand scheme of things.

Shigure’s morals are warped, but he is also extremely intelligent as well as in touch with his emotions. He is aware that if Tohru gets hurt that it will hurt him in turn, both because she is an outsider whose life he is playing with and because he can’t help but care about her (which is what makes her so good for his plans), but his end goal is overall more important to him than his or anyone else’s emotions in the moment.

Self-perception:

All the other zodiacs hold some level of resentment towards Akito and the curse, but Shigure doesn’t resent Akito. He resents the curse because it’s standing between him and a real relationship with Akito, but not Akito themselves. Since childhood, Shigure has been unapologetically obsessed with Akito, and the power of that obsession and the intensity of the bond has led Shigure to live a one-track life, disregarding the pain of people close to him to feed his own selfish desires, going so far as to willingly dirty Tohru, an outsider and a child, to enable his plans. The others live in misery that has been forced onto them; Shigure picked his poison and never plans on letting it go.

Conclusion: Shigure is a nasty little man

1x10 is an excellent look into Shigure’s inner life and ultimate goals. It very clearly shows us that he is motivated by a love that was initially the pure love of a child-turned-dark and desperate. His motivations are selfish, his actions hurtful and oftentimes callous, and his morality twisted by both the family culture and his own doing. This episode does an amazing job juxtaposing Shigure’s unique relationship with the curse against Kyo’s as two ends of the extreme: the former is trying to break the curse so he can have an individual, the latter desperate to be included in the curse so he can find acceptance from the group. Shigure is an underhanded character who very rarely says what he wants outright, but the subtext of this episode is full of great little moments to spell out what Shigure’s game is and how he plans on winning it.

[phynali]

So I got a little hyperfocused today thinking about Dean and John, and Dean’s resentment toward Sam for leaving and where it stems from. This was partly because @fearlastyear​ (hope it’s okay to tag you!) put up two fantastic posts (here and here) in and amidst some other things on my dash (and twitter) that got my wheels turning, and I accidentally got way too into my own thought process.

The synthesis of this thinking is that Dean doesn’t resent Sam for leaving him with their father, but rather that he resents Sam for abdicating his duty to their family, and in so doing, undermining everything Dean has built himself around and sacrificed for. 

Sam leaving wasn’t just a loss of his brother and a blowout fight that left him untethered in No Man’s Land, it was something that threatened the foundational piece of knowledge on which Dean forms his identity: family comes before all else. Beyond the pain and hurt, Dean’s resentment comes from anger at Sam for that abdication, for that rejection of this ideal, and for leaving despite all the ways Dean tried to make it possible and palatable for Sam to stay, the sacrifices he made (which he perceives Sam has a mutual duty to meet in kind, by staying with him as a family).

And below the cut is the essay-length version for anyone interested

My view of Dean and John, focusing almost entirely on the Kripke era, is a dynamic based on duty as a moral obligation and core identity. This has implications for how Dean views Sam leaving for Stanford, painted through this lens of duty and identity.

Backing up - 

The line “all things considered” from Nightmare (1x14) is a huge can of worms to unpack in terms of what Dean is saying and not saying on his view of his father’s parenting and treatment of them. We get bit more in Devil’s Trap (1x22) to explore, but also in In My Time of Dying (2x01) and in all of Dean’s anger with John in S2, and again in Dream a Little Dream of Me (3x10). What’s significant about it is that so much of it is in show vs. tell storytelling, to the extent where I might be reading a bit too much into the authorial intent here but – 

In S1, Dean’s hero worship of their father is always seen and iterated through Sam’s eyes or spoken for Sam’s benefit. From the pilot through to John’s death, where Dean refers to their father as man who was trying his best or did good or was proud of Sam or who’s word was infallible, none of it is really about Dean’s dynamic with John. It’s about Sam’s dynamic with the man, his anger and shouting matches and ‘rebelliousness’ and him leaving. Sam will accuse Dean of worshiping the ground their father walks on and always obeying him and Dean won’t contradict him, will defend John, but he won’t agree, really. Will downplay or redirect the conversation. 

This isn’t about John, and it isn’t about Dean, it’s about Sam. And I think in particular, it’s about Sam not being able to be around his father.

So much of this seems to come down to “you didn’t have to leave, dad was proud of you. you didn’t have to leave, he was just doing his best. you didn’t have to leave, we can trust him” and reads (now in hindsight) almost as a “you don’t have to leave (again), dad is proud, is trying his best, will share the information when we need it. you don’t have to leave when we find him. please don’t leave again when we find him.”

Of course that’s a got a desperate edge to it and would never be expressed in so many words, nor except under deep pain and duress, but this the deep-down panic that I read Dean as having in S1, possibly even from the night Sam left for Stanford.

Meanwhile Dean’s actual relationship with John is not told to the viewer by himself at this stage. We are told Sam’s side of it, but left to see and infer Dean’s, gleaned mostly through cracks in his armor, emotions and reactions. Most of the breadcrumbs we get though lead to a very different conclusion than the hero worship we hear from Sam’s lips.

Evidence of Dean’s resentment and distrust of John is laced through S1, right up until John’s death. Going back to 1x14, Dean says “all things considered” about how they turned out but in no way doubles down on Sam’s positive regard and forgiveness for how their father raised them when Sam compares John to Max’s father. In 1x22, Dean expects his father to be pissed at him for ‘wasting’ a bullet from the Colt and is so shocked to hear he’s proud that he figures out John is possessed. Dean tells Sam that nothing bad will happen to him, not because of John but because of him. Dean feels like his father never looked at him the same after the shtrigra. Dean is pissed their father hasn’t answered the phone (even when he was dying) and John acknowledges that’s fair even as he’s surprised not at Dean’s anger or emotions but at his tone and the way he’s expressing himself to John. Dean as a ghost watches his father with naked suspicion and is in no way surprised that John is up to something.

Dean knows John to his core. He knows what John expects and how he operates and thinks and strategizes. He knows his feelings and his pride for Sam and when and why he would be angry. He knows his double-standards. He knows John’s bad habits and bullshit, too. Dean shows us, time and time again, that he has no illusions about his father. 

To me, that translates as something entirely different than the hero-worship we are led to believe Dean has for John. He does not idolize the man, much as he loves and respects him. He knows him too well to really idolize him. That is a face he puts on for Sam, for Sam’s narrative of their family, so as to maintain the fiction, because Dean is the peacekeeper and it’s easier to give Sam that space and to play this role and to defend their father so that Sam’s anger isn’t given any more justification because if it is – what if he gets so mad he leaves again and never returns?

To come back to our thesis and how this relates to Sam leaving for Stanford and Dean being left behind, beyond all that we have to infer about John and Dean, one thing we do know for certain is that Dean has been hunting on his own. He’s checking in on the phone from time to time (but Dean knows exactly how long John has been missing, so checking in frequently, like John is his drill sergeant, but also likely the only point of consistent contact he has in his life) but that’s it. Even though we also know that most hunters work together on the majority of jobs. Dean is alone. 

This is part of why I don’t think of it as Sam having left Dean behind with John: Dean isn’t with John, not in any way that he’s tied to his side or beholden to John for his survival. When Sam goes to Stanford, Dean is 22 (or if you count the John Winchester Journal tie-in book as canon, Dean is 23). He is as capable of leaving as Sam, more capable really. He has the skills to get by, both with legal work (the skills to bars, in security, mechanical skills and aptitude) and less-than-legal work. Of course the way they were brought up and how incredibly insular and isolated they are, the emotional barriers to leaving are different, are much stronger, hence why he doesn’t ever ‘leave’. But we know Dean does his own thing sometimes.

If you count the canon tie-in John Winchester’s Journal, Dean has his first solo-hunt at 17. Even if you don’t count that book, Dean has dates and hook-ups, part-time jobs, recreation and relationships (like Cassie). These are experiences that are his own, the same as any young adult, and canon later tells us that there were times he was ‘sent’ away by John, and time spent at a boy’s home after being caught for stealing. Although we may not want to count later seasons canon or extra canonical books, basic common sense hopefully tells us that there are times in his early adulthood where Dean goes off on his own for a weekend or a week, solo, in between jobs or even off to help Caleb or someone else on a job if their father is busy. Where he has a bit of his own life.

Relatedly, I’ve never really felt that Sam leaving did anything to put Dean in any sort of harm’s way. I don’t buy that John beat Dean the way Max’s father beat him, in a drunken rage each night to take out his anger and the world on him. This is partially because I see it as a) unlikely that the Kripke era wouldn’t have shied away from John being physically abusive as part of the backstory if it was intended, and b) unlikely Sam would be unaware of it if John had been hitting Dean or using corporal punishment excessively or frequently. He’s clever and observant, by 8 he had figured out so much of what his father was lying about and it seems ridiculous to assume he would have missed this, which John seems much less likely to bother hiding. Sam’s not one to mince words about their father, so wouldn’t aggrandize their dad in contrast to Max’s father if John was abusive in that manner.

That being said, I do think likely enough John used corporal punishment on both his sons at times, probably spanking, but rather than see it as abusive, he (and they) viewed it as a disciplinary standard (disclaimer: that doesn’t make it not abusive, only means that it was more predictable, bounded by specific circumstances, and affords them the opportunity to frame it in their heads differently). I could meander a lot here with regard to Dean taking on more of John’s anger in general, completely outside of physical abuse, because I believe he did, acting as the peacekeeper in the family and putting himself in John’s path when things got too heated, diffusing as best as he could but still being on the receiving end of the anger and expectation and responsibility.

Regardless of whether it involved physical violence, John was strict about some things and demanded a particular shape of respect from his sons. They both call him sir and are clearly expected to listen without question, to fall in line, and they were denied games and friends and stability in favour of learning to fight and shoot and hunt and survive. They were denied basic necessities and left to fend for themselves and given weapons as children. Whatever we want to label it, John raised his sons in an intensely traumatizing manner and some of that is physical, like endurance drills and bow hunting instead of soccer practice and learning to shoot deer too young, like how they can hike in the woods in steel-toed boots with no more than M&Ms and feel fine with that because they have accustomed themselves to discomfort and actual pain as part of their existence, and accommodation for that pain is not expected (was likely seldom if ever granted).

Where I think this matters for Sam and Dean as we know them, for Sam leaving for Stanford, is how each brother’s self-views were impacted by John’s teachings, his hard edges and expectations, his punishments (in whatever form they took).

Friction between John and Sam cause Sam to externalize, to act out in anger, with nothing riding it on it but himself, giving him license to claim the space he deserves, the honesty he deserves. So much revolves around Sam but he is kept so much in the dark about it all (not knowing until 1x08 Home that his brother carried him from the fire, or until later that his mother died in his nursery). He knows, has known since he was 8 or younger that he is being lied to, and this makes him lash out in frustration against that sense of helplessness. In contrast, because Dean feels responsible for Sam, feels a sense of responsibility that extends beyond himself, friction between John and Dean cause him to internalize: he feels guilt and shame and a sense of failure when his father is angry with him, or disappointed in him. Something Wicked (1x18) with the shritga episode is so much evidence: Dean is taught that his brother is his responsibility and duty, and anything that happens to Sam is his fault uniquely.

So where that sense of being resentful of Sam leaving comes from – speaking here only of resentment and not the deep sense of loss and hurt and fear that feeds into it – it is from that same sense of responsibility he internalized. He’s only stuck “with” John insofar as family is stone number one. Family is Dean’s primary obligation, protecting his brother, obeying his father, keeping the peace between them in No Man’s Land. This is what it was all for: to be a family. Because family comes first, protecting family comes first – from the world, from each other, from themselves. He’ll do whatever he has to because that is who he is at his core, who he learned to be in order to survive, to hold the ones he loves dear. Sam leaving makes that impossible, forces Dean into a place where he can’t look out for both, can’t be single unit anymore. Sam leaves and John says to never come back and there is no such thing as No Man’s Land at all, no peace to be kept, it has been annihilated.

So I think Dean comes at that feeling of resentment to Sam leaving more obliquely, and feels it less as resentment over being left with John, and far more as rejection (of him, of his identity) and betrayal (of what they are supposed to mean to each other). “We can just ... leave? No. No, we can’t. That’s not allowed. That’s not what we do or who we are. That is wrong and dangerous. It is selfish. It is you putting yourself over the thing that we have all sacrificed for.”

Because how can it be any less? Dean views family as a duty, as his duty, and because they are family and are in this together and are all they have, it is their shared and mutual duty.

When Sam leaves for Stanford, he betrays that ideal. Whenever Sam leaves (to chase normal, to runaway to Flagstaff, to sneak out with Ruby), he rejects that obligation and duty, and in so doing rejects Dean’s worldview, identity, and the point from which he derives his purpose. He rejects Dean (even if Sam isn’t rejecting Dean at all. Sam will never, can never reject Dean, but Dean will never, can never experience it as anything other than a rejection).

And I think Dean can’t let himself really sit inside Sam’s point of view or internalize how Sam sees family, can’t genuinely that leaving was/is okay because a) it hurts too much that Sam left, and b) then why not leave himself? Exist for himself? What is he without his family? So Dean is a good son, and Sam leaving is a betrayal, a transgression. Sam wanted to “get away” from family, wanted to be “normal” (not safe, which is the reason in Sam’s own words in the pilot, because Sam’s childhood was traumatizing and terrifying and made him feel helpless, and Dean can’t accept that either because it’s his job to protect Sam, and if Sam spent his life terrified then that means Dean failed. Much like how Sam having been a lonely child means Dean failed, because “you had me” and he needs to have been enough, even though that’s impossible).

Dean of course knows this is unfair but he cannot stand it because accepting Sam has a right to leave and has no obligation to stay means what is keeping Sam with him? (What is keeping Sam from leaving again?).

Sam views everything he’s ever done as a personal choice, and everything he will do as a choice, and he experiences a deep sense of obligation to others in a very general sense – to protect and save them, to put his body between theirs and the things that go bump in the night. As early as Wendigo (1x02) he uses his frame as a shield between the victims and the monster. Dean’s primary obligation is to his family. His duty to his family, to his little brother, is not a choice. It hasn’t been a choice since he was 4 years old with a baby in his arms, since shtriga and demons and more made the world too dangerous for it to be an option instead of the instinct it became. The core of all of their issues in the Kripke era stems from this difference in where they view their primary obligation.

And of course Dean grapples with his sense of duty to his family, and resents it himself, and resents Sam for landing on a different side of this divide and admires Sam for landing on a different side of this divide. Dean grapples when angels come and tell him he has a different, higher purpose. When the world and universe is at stake. When he’s felt betrayed by Sam time and again because Sam doesn’t centre his core identity in the same way, and does reject that duty to his father and to his family to sublimate his wants and needs into familial piety. Then – Dean wavers. But ultimately, he still picks Sam, every time. (And ultimately, Sam choosing him in the only ways that he knows how saves the world from the Apocalypse – both of them do together. But that’s a separate post).

And since we’re unpacking Dean’s dynamic with his father, beyond our thesis about Sam leaving now, it’s worth noting that so much of the outward resentment we see Dean express toward John is also in regard to the dereliction of duty to family. When Dean snaps in anger at John it is because he did not answer the phone when they needed. Not for the rest of the bullshit from S1, because if wanted them on a wild goose chase, okay sure, Dean can accept that, can follow his orders in the shape of coordinates, can be the good son and not ask questions. 

That is allowed because that is his duty, but that duty is reciprocal, and John can ignore the phone for his own ends as long as he wants except for when they need him. When Dean was dying, when Sam was having visions, family as duty means that John was supposed to answer, to drop everything, to appear. That’s the deal. John failed in that obligation and therefore Dean is allowed his anger, righteous as it is.

And John agrees that it is his right (despite surprise at this tone) because Dean learned this duty from his father. If there’s any doubt in that, consider S2, how quickly Dean puts together that his father made a deal and how he grapples with it. At no point does it surprise him that John made a deal for his life, even when you can tell he thinks Sam is the favourite son, even when you can tell he feels unworthy. Because John taught him duty to family, obligation to each other. When Sam dies it isn’t even a choice for Dean, not really, the same as it wasn’t really a choice for John. It was what you do, like a reflex, like breathing. Dying for family and living for family and sacrificing for family: that’s what it means to be a Winchester.

What’s so telling to me is Dean’s battle with his subconscious in Dream a Little Dream of Me, and the bitter, angry declaration that he never deserved what was put on him by John, how he aches to see himself as more than a blunt instrument or soldier to his father. Dean loves his father, and reveres him at times, and is loyal to him. But his resentment burns bright because the burden was too great, because John “never should have put that on [him]”. John put a lot on Dean, but the worst thing he put on him was telling Dean he was responsible for saving Sam or killing him. In that moment, John was not only derelict in duty, he abdicated it altogether: he stopped protecting Sam.

This is of course anathema to Dean. Despite Dean’s mixed feelings and resentment to John, despite him not answering the phone, disappearing, despite him not being there when Sam’s girlfriend died or when Dean was dying – despite being completely unreliable and distant – Dean is relieved by John’s presence when he shows up in S1. And of course he his – he finds comfort in the security of it. John has answers, John has resources, John is goddamn good at what he does. That relief comes in no small part from the fact that John is Sam’s father, Sam’s family, and with him around, Dean can share the burden of protecting and helping and saving along with Dean. Dean is overwhelmed and John – John is Sam’s father, John has a duty to Sam. John shares Dean’s duty to Sam. John is not a heroic saviour to a grown up Dean, but there is a small part of him that, like most children, still wants to believe his father can make it better.

John is the one person with whom Dean shares that duty, and John betrays it.

Both Sam and John betrayed the singular duty to family, refused the obligation to put it above all else. Where Sam’s betrayal to that obligation was in leaving, something Dean can only see as selfish in its rejection of the core directive of their lives (duty to family), John’s betrayal was in turning against family, in losing faith. And Dean can only see this as selfish too. Selfish to die and leave Dean holding the ball, holding the guilt and grief. Selfish to ask him to kill the brother he loves above all else, and unfair, and undeserved.

Dean is placed in the impossible position, the same as he was when Sam left. There is no No Man’s Land.

This is how Dean is parallel to Michael, because their view of their fathers is centred entirely around the duty they have as the son, including a duty to protect and look out for their brother. And where Dean is a foil to Michael is in how Michael betrays his brother for his father, and Dean betrays his father for his brother.

[sor-vette]

one, strike!! (index/description)

☜ profiles II

two, down!! ☞

Naturally what was estimated into an hour quickly grew into three hours and naturally, those three hours involved a decent amount of manhandling and lots of loose fists. All in all, you limped your way into the annual celebration late and with a busted lip and a nicely settling lilac shade on the cusp of the jaw. The celebration was nearing the end. There were no speakers on the stage or even in the front row. The crowd had mingled already long before.

Jin is actually the first who you notice in the crowd. Uncharacteristically he’s sitting alone by one of the side tables of the room. In front of him, there’s a small gathering of empty champagne glasses, even as you’re looking he’s playing with the thin stem of the glass, face completely blank. You sidestep into a larger group of people to avoid any eye contact. Namjoon is of course the next.

He’s standing listening to someone unfamiliar to you speak. He nods along with the conversation but you can see his jaw clenched in a death grip. He’ll need a brace soon, you think dryly. The rhythmical bops on the sides of his cheeks were amusing, yes, but not when directed at you. At the moment where your legs hesitate by the banquet table, there rings a shutter sound of a camera. You try to peek as subtly as possible and upon seeing a mop of dark curls sticking above the lens, you dip towards Namjoon. Anything but that. Anything. Yeah, you’d rather deal with angry Namjoon than any jabs of resentment with V. Namjoon, in fact, does notice you and his veins, in fact, do actually start showing. He’s one split hair away from foaming at the mouth. And yet, and yet-

“Ah, Mr. Reyes and Mr. Kuznetsov, I’d like to meet R.D. It’s the woman I’ve talked to you about earlier in the evening,” earlier when you were supposed to show your ass up. His voice is completely neutral as if you’d showing up late, tousled, and looking like a digested raccoon was part of the plan.

“Sorry for meeting you this late, there was a situation that needed my attention,” even if they’re not placated by the excuse, the polite hmm’s are still given.

“Mr. Kuznetsov had heard how you declined positions in all of the other departments and he was wondering why.” And you once had thought that Jin and Jimin were award-worthy actors... Namjoon doesn’t give off anything, not a single clue. He paraphrases the belated questions so casually as if he didn’t know. As if he didn’t know that the answer was him all along. Sure, there were other… reasons, other circumstances but no matter how the dice was turned, the primary descent into your suicidal career choice was pushed by Namjoon himself.

“I like the freedom of the cleaner department.”

“Freedom?” Mr. Kuznetsov echoes and you politely wait for his interpreter thinking it’d be rude to intrude on his job.

“Freedom?”

“Yes. There are certain characteristics to other departments that require um… putting on airs? Being a cleaner means I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not and I’m largely responsible for my own choices.” Namjoon snorts. It is an ugly, mocking sound.

“Furthermore,” you continue, glaring at him “our department is very friendly and honest. We say what we want and don’t rope people in situations that are only beneficial to us.” Namjoon’s jaw makes an audible tick. For a split second, it seems he has simply managed to dislocate it entirely.

“I thought they were also supposed to be punctual.” He snarks through what was supposed to look like an amicable smile. A miserable fail on his part.

“Yes, they are. It’s just not me. Not a postcard material, you see.” If Mr. Reyes and Mr. Kuznetcov pick up on the rapidly increasing animosity, they at least have the working social sense not to remark on it. Both of them thank you for your answers and then stay a little longer to talk to Namjoon again. At that point, you start to zone out of reality and have something alike Ducktales intro loudly playing in your mind.

When they bid their goodbyes almost twenty minutes later, the re-purposed great conference hall is nearly empty. Jin had disappeared without you seeing. And so has V, thank God. Briefly, you try to find someone else familiar but there is none. Finally, the pair leaves, and Namjoon is left openly fuming. He takes those purposeful, long strides and you almost double in two, growling:

“Don’t you even-!” He does not listen and catches your elbow in a death grip, dragging you to the first exit door into those gray nondescript hallways you loathe. You shove him away unceremoniously.

“Do you enjoy creating a mess? Or are you simply incapable of keeping a promise?” His voice is low, monotone, kicking your self-esteem right underneath Earth’s crust. It was hard - to argue with Namjoon. Just…not impossible. Overall it helped to think of it as the world’s snidest debate match.

“I distinctly remember not promising anything due to this very reason.”

“Your reason being?”

“My direct duties as a custodian.” Namjoon actually snarls.

“To the boy?”

“His name is Erik,” you lightly correct and for some reason, he gives a mirthless laugh. As if that’s faintly amusing.

“You’ve never treated your duties seriously.”

“Actually, I have. You just don’t like it if I do something on my own.” It’s a deja vu at this point. You’ve had this conversation, point by point, five years ago.

A beat of silence passes.

Then another one.

“You’re happy now?” Namjoon asks. You suspect largely to make you feel guilty over something not defined.

“Of course. We just had a perfectly pleasant conversation.” You say matter-of-factly. Yes, it is hard to argue with Namjoon but once you learn that his biggest weakness is someone brushing off all of his righteous fury aside and not let it underneath the skin... Well, it is a couple of hundred steps towards mastery on this very vague debate team.

“Clean yourself up.” He bites his last and stomps away. You wait until he disappears up the exit stairs and let out a long sigh, letting your spine relax.

You turn around all too ready to go home and drown inside your mattress but freeze upon seeing Jimin. He stands quite far away, by appearance having just exited the conference hall. There are faint creases in his face and mute worry reflecting in the eyes. No doubt, he heard at least half the conversation. You both stand awkwardly in the silence of the hallway, each rooted in their own spot. He gives a small smile, an attempt at comfort. So very like Jimin. You lightly shrug as if to say - “it is what it is”. To not look him into the eyes, you turn your head to the top of his head. It is pink now. Looks nice. You point to the top of your own head and give a thumbs up, hoping he’d get what you’re trying to gesture. He does. Jimin gives another smile, a touch shyer as he lowers his eyes in silent gratitude at the compliment but the worry doesn’t decrease.

The conversation if it could be called that ends there and after another heavy sigh, he walks back into the hall.

“Life is like a hurricane, here in, Duckberg,” you bop quietly walking down the empty hallway.

***

Namjoon sags into the chair of his office in total darkness as he didn’t bother to turn on the lights. The only faint illumination is provided by the neon lights of the city below. The walk of twenty-five floors has taken all the wind out of him, along with it the anger. Thirty minutes ago he was mumbling it like a mantra in his head. He’d wrangle your neck if you dared to show your face and now he finds the very idea irrational. Jin had said his temper has gotten worse over the course of six years. The unrelenting stress taking a toll, he said. Maybe, maybe it was the stress. But Namjoon begrudgingly had to admit it was you who hit the nail of the problem. He took an issue wherever you or really anyone in his care did things on their own. He was the leader, the face of everything they try to do here. To save the world, that’s what the tag line said. But years after years of trying to save the world and years after years worth of sacrifices piling up, he’d rather start not to save the world but just save someone.

And then you came here, nearly six years ago, forlorn and bent on killing yourself and he lets you into this hellhole. Let's you stay so you could find meaning in the vague promises of being an underground hero, a vigilante. And then when it becomes peaceful when life seems to be good, you take a dive. A dive that just keeps ongoing. And it’s not that Namjoon doesn’t trust you. You’ve matured in heaps and bounds and reached a notable level of professionalism within the cleaner department. But the world is another thing. A shelter sometimes can be confining but it is ultimately safe. Isn’t safety better than running around jumping from one risky decision to another for the sake of “living adventurous life”?

Namjoon lets his head drop into the palms of his hands. Lately, this is all he’s been doing. Getting angry and then feeling like a complete villain. A pulse begins to form behind his eyes. The telltale sign of an incoming migraine.

God, he just wants to sleep.

***

“Get out,” you murmur half-heartedly, closing the doors to your small apartment. Pop music blasts inside the apartment with Erik lazily enjoying cherry candy sticks on the top of your bed.

“Oh, you’re home.”

“And you’re here. See how upset that makes me?” Erik stared at your stilled expression.

“Devastating,” he murmurs, “did your get your ass kicked? For being late?”

“Well, as long as never show my face there ever again and die on this very spot, no, I’ve handled it quite well.” He points at you with the red object, voice insinuating a captivating intrigue -

“I’m sorry for tonight but I promise tomorrow you’ll have reparations.”

- when it was just plain annoying.

“Instead of thousand sorry’s, I’d like to hear at least once you ask for my permission.”

“You’d say no.”

“I like saying no. It lowers your enthusiasm.”

Erik grumbles something indecipherable. A person busts in through the doors along with the hearty clanging of two bottles smacking against each other.

“What is he doing here?” Irina throws a disapproving look towards the bed.

“No idea.”

“Get out.”

“No, but -”

“Get lost,” you echo Irina.

“Okey-dokey.” And with obnoxious curtsy accompanied with “ladies!” Erik is gone without another whine. You sigh heavily, absent-mindedly poking at the small tower of empty coffee mugs sitting in the sink. There has been no time during the week. You’ve been far too busy spending your free time in alteration between watching old cartoons and staring at a wall.

Irina places her coat and shoes next to her, frowning at the door.

“Why do you even like this kid?” You give a simple shrug. Maybe deep down you know the answer, maybe you don’t but largely you don’t think it matters. Erik was your trainee and that was the end of that. Well, that was how much you were willing to share with the outer world.

“He thinks differently.”

“Isn’t it just the fact that he wears red eyeshadow?” You still for a moment, looking at the paper bags Irina places on your kitchen table.

“Omelas?”

“Yeah.” She puts down the two faded tourist mugs from inside the small kitchen cupboard. I love Vienna and Someone in Paris misses you respectively. You look at the mugs almost apprehensively as if their appearance was somehow offensive but say nothing. They were just mugs after all. Nothing more.

Irina pours the champagne and pops open the white takeout boxes, pushing one in your direction.

“Snagged this from the anniversary party.” She proudly proclaimed, “they had really big banquet tables.”

“Yeah, I saw.” You take a sip of the champagne wincing at the taste. The label of 2004 Philipponnat Clos des Goisses Brut promised its tasters lively energy and tastes of lemon peel, pear, hazelnuts, and mint. What was on your tongue tasted like pure acid. No better than the cheapest energy drink found in the shadiest small stores peppered across the town.

“What are you thinking?”

“The name is obnoxiously long.” Irina huffs while dutifully stuffing her mouth full of chicken.

“No, I meant -” she takes a breath, gulping down on the champagne. For a second you almost worry she’ll end up hacking herself to death at this rate of consumption.

“Did our CEO invite you?”

“Yes.”

“And something happened?”

“Yes.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.” She falls silent. After a moment, she unexpectedly reaches across the table and pushes a bite of her rice into your mouth.

“Let’s never be sad over anyone, okay.” You push the rice on the one side of your cheek to push through a flirtatious -

“Only over you.”

Irina gives a wry smile.

[saberspirit]

jiang cheng character analysis essay under the cut! bc he means a Lot to me (its 5 pages im sorry)

tl;dr my thoughts on his relationship to his parents, his relationship with anger and feelings of inferiority, what zidian represents to him, his siblings (largely about what led to him and wwx falling out), and my thoughts on reconciliation between him and wei wuxian in the end.

tw!!! for child abuse and death, also warning for spoilers for the ending. 

alternatively can be read on google docs for accessibility

foreword: by writing this it is not my intention to imply this is the end all be all interpretation, or that i know more than fans of colour (especially chinese/chinese-american fans). i’m looking at his character as a white fan and through a western lens. i understand there are nuances i wont understand, but i have tried and continue to look at him w/ an educated view point and i’m always trying to continue my own self-driven education. i’m as always open to criticism and correction, although i understand it is no ones job to do so. it’s purely an interpretation from someone relating to his themes that i talk about here. thank you for reading! 

Jiang Cheng has a very complicated relationship with his parents (understatement), though different from Wei Wuxian’s complicated relationship w/ them (some overlaps being given).

It’s obvious to me that JC identifies more as his mother's son than his father's—feels he has to be because surely that’s why he feels neglected and like he’s constantly being found wanting by his father (even if Fengmian does Not mean to come across that way and isn’t a cruel man). He identifies with his mother’s anger and feeling of not being what his father truly wanted or loved and I don’t think he realized the effect she had on him with her constant comparison game—trying to measure him up because Madam Yu used him as a playing piece in her constant warring with Fengmian and instilled a sense of otherness in him and his deep-rooted feelings of inferiority and not being Good enough, not being enough in general. And yet he still deeply loves them even through all that he’s been through because of them both.

He never grew up learning how love should be in a relationship; should be from a parent to a child. The love he learned is a different type of conditional love from WWX's (WWX being that he doesn’t trust it in the first place, knowing it will leave). JC receives love and praise but knows it comes from a silent arrangement: it’s transactional. He upholds what his parents want and he gets…a form of it. Jiang Fengmian loved him in a way that you just kind of do love family, perhaps without a real reason otherwise—not pretty, but it is as it is. Madam Yu loved him in a way one loves a possession: she saw too much of Jiang Fengmian in him and JC was a reminder of how unhappy she was and how much her husband didn’t seem to care about her or what she gave him. (This isn’t to downplay Yanli's role in JC’s life: I think she was truly the only one to show him unconditional love in a way that he understood and recognized but it's unfortunately different from siblings and fell on half-deaf ears when all JC really wanted was his father’s approval).

Madam Yu was (afaik) stated to not be physically abusive (aside from the whipping when the Wens came from Wei Wuxian), but she was one-hundred percent verbally and emotionally abusive (for example, punishing WWX w/ isolation from the family w/ seclusion, or in general just how she talked to JC and WWX). She broke those two boys and it's something that can’t be undone…and Zidian represents that trauma, abuse, and expectation and JC’s anger and resentment that was the product of it. It’s literally lightning in a whip form; able to bind without harm, but it’s primarily used to hurt; it can reveal a true form; control over it is only relinquished to one’s family and loved ones.

JC doesn’t just lash out verbally at Wei Wuxian when they meet in his second life, he literally does. It’s his anger under his skin like static, driving him forward and being unable to rest because he’s constantly looking for closure he can’t have. He resents how his parents and Wei Wuxian made him feel but it’s also the only thing he has of them, and he clings to that (and therefore Zidian). It’s the last thing, bar Lotus Pier, that he has of his family anymore, and he wields it like a weapon…because ultimately it’s the only thing he's known for a very long time. Anger is an easy emotion. He wears it well. It was an emotion he learned from his mother, and he is his mother’s son.

As a side note for Zidian: Jin Ling refusing to take it from JC in the Burial Mounds to me was very much about not wanting a goodbye. He's a stubborn kid—JC mirrored what his mother did to him in handing off Zidian before certain death, and I think Jin Ling realized "take care of Zidian" meant "because I can’t anymore". JC wanted Jin Ling to stay safe and keep a hold on their family's legacy, but Jin Ling refused it and stepped forward to protect JC—JL is tired of goodbyes and afraid of losing more people, but also that stubborn streak to protect his family back. He went into the fray himself even if it’s not what JC was asking him to do (but then to JC’s chagrin the kid never really does do what he asks usually, Jin Ling has a good head on his shoulders and he’s as stubborn and quick to anger as his jiujiu but he’s also as incredibly loyal and caring). And I think it's a good vehicle to show that JL is breaking that cycle for them both.

Back to Jiang Cheng and anger and his siblings though. Yanli is all about showing affection in her words and actions (ie. meal sharing, peeling the lotus seeds, etc). WWX struggles to show it in forthright actions, let alone verbalize it (he’s truly bad at it) so while WWX does love his brother and shows it in actions like giving him his golden core…it’s not something JC picks up on well, or at all because he doesn’t even get told about the core until the Guanyin Temple. Jiang Cheng is someone who needs verbalized confirmation and very obvious action. But then to be fair, JC is also not good at verbalizing his love and care (he and Wei Wuxian are two peas in a pod w/ this one). It’s often behind barbed wire because 1) that’s how it was shown to him and 2) because it’s safer and easier to hide behind anger. He really does use it as a shield to protect his real feelings because he’s used to his feelings being trivial and being thrown in his face, and is used to loss. It’s a buffer.

This leads to a problem: Wei Wuxian does love him unconditionally, but I don’t think JC knows that. When he’s faced with the golden core surgery after everything, it’s definitely obvious, but it’s so twisted up in being hidden from him, in his own fears and feelings of failure and reliance that it’s soured. And he struggles to reach out and be frank with his own worries.

And this leads and lends to the severity of their falling out (not the only cause, but a big player in it).

He deeply loves his brother, but it's also entrenched in his bitterness and fears. If it was initially hard for him to verbalize because of those issues (on top of being a teenager/young adult and his feelings of inferiority irt WWX), he’s now in the current day steeped in sixteen years of loss/grief/trauma. Of unresolved tension between the two of them because WWX never told anyone anything—even if that’s just how he is, nothing personal towards JC except maybe that it’s his little brother, his shidi, and he doesn’t want to put a burden on those he loves—and JC tried time and time again to believe him and in him.

The problem was that his trust got thrown in his face time and time again. His older ‘peers’ (clan leaders) mocked and insulted him to his face for his naivety, pointed out that what WWX was doing was an insult to JC and their family, that WWX’s actions disrespected him and that he should do something about it. WWX’s actions themselves alongside him never letting JC in on anything further isolated them and put walls between them. This sewed the seed of the idea for JC that maybe he was naive. That WWX couldn’t uphold his duty and promises to JC and their family while also upkeeping his own personal code of ethics. (Not that it helped that Jiang Cheng also started lashing out at Wei Wuxian in minor ways for not having Suibian, but he didn’t exactly know why, to his credit).

His trust was him trying to care for WWX through all they’ve lost, but he’s also under the immense pressure of leading and rebuilding his home while also being looked down upon for his inexperience and ties to the man the cultivation world loathes.

Jiang Cheng believed WWX when he said he'd help him, wanted him to and expected him to. That’s his big brother and ultimately family comes first, so it was out of the question that WXX wouldn’t uphold that duty to him. Jiang Cheng is barely an adult as Sect Leader and was still a teen when they lost everything, so of course he wanted to rely on and believe Wei Wuxian when he said he'd help. JC doesn’t usually rely on others—I’d wager he hates relying on WWX especially as a callback to the inferiority complex—but he lets WWX in when they have the “Twin Prides” talk, lets him in when he promises JC to help him rebuild their home…and then WWX lets him down several times.

Post Burial Mounds there are signs that JC notices, if not consciously then subconsciously, that something is off with his brother (the demonic cultivation, the flute, the lack of Suibian, his weakness when pushed, etc), little things that he noted but didn’t have the time during a War to think too deeply on. He’s more relieved to just have him back where he can see him, happy that his brother can help them. Jiang Cheng gives him his vote of confidence in his abilities, in him, because he never thought of WWX or his methods badly (having been a fan until it became a symbol of losing Wei Wuxian to Something Else). Even if he had thought something of it, did have a concern, they don’t easily talk to each other now.

That much is obvious when after various meetings post the Sunshot Campaign as WWX is struggling with his temperament and resentful energy, after WWX saves the Wen remnants from the Jin Clan, and Jiang Cheng shows up at the Burial Mounds. He still believes in Wei Wuxian, still is bound to help him, and wants to help him. He’s willing to sacrifice the Wens for his brother. His actions and words are not pretty, but by god is he desperate. Jiang Cheng wants to save him and hides it with harsh words because once again he’s not good at being forthright with his feelings. He’s at his wits’ end, he’s barely 20, and suddenly he's losing Wei Wuxian too. It’s not about them being Wens because at this point he’s aware they’re helpless—it’s because it’s WWX and he’s supposed to make the right decision and be competent. It’s freshly post-war and he’s scared: his big brother is leaving and he feels powerless and he Hates that. Once again feels like he’s not good enough. Not good enough to save WWX, not good enough to lead, and he’s under intense scrutiny. He tells WWX as much that at this point he can’t help, and it hurts him to not be able to. Jiang Cheng wants Wei Wuxian to help him, help him. It’s an admittance wrapped in hurt and hurtful words, and WWX throws it in his face because he can’t let him in.

It’s not meant in any malicious way. Wei Wuxian is also traumatized, scared and hurting and dealing with the changes demonic cultivation is causing within him. But this is a key moment when JC for once verbalizes his fears and WWX tells him, ‘good, you don’t need to worry, I don’t have anything to do with you from now on’. (And of course, WWX is doing this to protect JC, but this response is what JC is afraid of).

So we have two times that JC has tried really hard in his own ways to let WWX in. To rely on him and be honest with him and WWX ends up…breaking his promises and leaving him and their family behind. And to me, that explains his actions when the last time they speak before he dies (that we’re shown anyways). WWX is sitting down with Jiang Cheng and Yanli. JC is the one that set up them being able to meet him, the one that reached out even after they fought to make his defecting from the Sect look convincing. He was the one that told Yanli that WWX should be the one to give a courtesy name to her child.

And then WWX brings Wen Ning. Yanli is open to Wen Ning sitting in and enjoying their family tradition, but JC can't understand why. Why WWX chose these people over his own family. He resents it. When he says "you might not be able to come back, to your family" I can imagine how much it destroys him to hear WWX say "but the people I’m returning to are also my family". Because what does that make them, WWX’s siblings; what does that make the promises and the years spent raised together, the duty he had to them first. Wei Wuxian might return to the Burial Mounds, but Jiang Cheng has to return to an empty Lotus Pier. The ghosts of his parents and ghosts of memories of his siblings he’s never getting back (because Yanli will be in Jinlin Tai after her upcoming wedding).

Repeatedly over and over Jiang Cheng reaches out, but time and time again it’s like WWX is telling him he’s not enough: not enough for WWX to rely on, not enough to protect him, not enough for him to want to return to, not enough to be family.

Then the cultivation world comes for WWX and his amulet. Yanli is killed, as far as JC can tell, because of the mess WWX made, and once again he’s in the dark about everything. Then WWX dies and rumours swirl that JC killed him, and maybe he did, maybe he is his brother’s killer even if Wei Wuxian would call it a misunderstanding. He’s left alone with an orphaned nephew in Lotus Pier with his entire family, bar an infant, dead.

So Jiang Cheng spends the next sixteen years without answers, with WWX having reinforced his insecurities and fears that stemmed from the abuse he'd suffered during childhood and then died. Yanli died when she never should’ve been in danger in the first place, seemingly because of Wei Wuxian. And he's so angry. He lashes out at memories and reminders, lashes out at anyone who chooses that same path that WWX chose over his family.

By the time Wei Wuxian’s come back from the dead and JC knows it’s him, WWX is still deflecting, still hiding still not telling him the truth. The fact that WWX comes back at all hurts purely as a fresh opening of the old wound, but the fact that he doesn’t come to find JC, that once again JC and his family isn’t a priority and once again is second best (this time to Lan Wangji)?

He doesn’t kill his brother. JC sits him down in a room and tries to talk but old hurts rile up and he reaches for anger again. WWX isn’t forthright and it makes it worse, neither of them are good at communicating: too many things unsaid, that can’t be said, too many misunderstandings and neither of them knowing how to talk about it. JC has Fairy there and it’s a minor act of revenge. JC uses what he knows is WWX’s weakness to intimidate and immobilize him, but it doesn’t help either of them actually talk.

Reconciliation is going to require WWX being able to talk to him without deflecting and JC getting angry so easily. But by this point, he’s given WWX a lot of chances and it’s why I think they could and would easily post-canon. Jiang Cheng's starting to come to an understanding that WWX did and still does care about him. He didn’t give him his golden core for no reason, and JC starts to understand why WWX did it for him and that he knew JC well enough to hide it in the first place.

He started to reach that conclusion shortly after Wen Ning told him—oh the pain of it having been WWX's chosen little brother figure—and Jiang Cheng had gone around asking people to unsheathe Suibian. It's why he brought Chenqing to the temple in the first place.

I think it speaks to his maturity that he decided at that moment he couldn’t say what he wanted to tell WWX in the end. I think he knew neither of them was ready, but I also think it speaks of how much he misses and trusts WWX to have let him go for now…I think he knows they will meet again as long as they both live, and that they'll be better for having waited. After some time to think, digest, they’ll be ready to be family again and all that entails.

[nitewrighter]

I think Gabe and Jack's arguments for sometime were mostly about Ana's death. In the old soldiers comic Gabe says "He left you to die." He probably blamed Jack for her death, he was present on that mission and didn't even retrieve her body. Both of them probably took it very hard. Are you planning on writing a fic about aftermath of her death in the future? Pretty good angst material right there

Oooh that’s a good prompt! You know, I hardly ever get asked about R76.

Read on AO3 here.

---

“Wheels up in two! Now beat feet!” Jack barked into the comms.

She should have responded. She should have said, “Affirmative, rendezvousing,” like she always did, but she didn’t. The heat of the evac’s engines just pushed the hot city air around. The smoke in the air from Ana’s destroyed surveillance drones mingled with the dust of crumbling concrete. There was still the distant pops of Talon agent fire, more likely to scare civilians fromthe area and create enough confusion for them to withdraw. But from Ana there was no response. He could still feel the sniper out there, and at this point he had no idea where they might be firing from next.

Jack gritted his teeth. “Disengage, Ana! that’s an or--”

Click.

Jack checked the HUD of his tactical lens. Hit two buttons at his temple to search for Ana on the comm lines, but all that came up were the red all-caps letters: OFFLINE.

She hung up on him. She clicked out of the channel. She was ignoring a direct order! His stomach hollowed. No, they couldn’t have this--not her. He shook his head. Get it together, Jack. She probably just needed to focus to take out the sniper. That was all. Two minutes. Just two minutes until evac took off. She could make it. She always made it. She had beaten the odds before. Jack brought his hand away from his ear and took a steadying breath. Two minutes. Just wait two minutes.

He could have sworn only fifteen seconds of making sure all the hostages were safely accounted for aboard the transport when Mirembe touched his arm.

“Sir, it’s been two minutes. We have to take off,” she said. There was still a splash of sticky brown-red across the honey-gold curls framing her face from where Bayless’s blood had spurted onto her.

“Amari will be coming,” said Jack, “And once she re-establishes contact over the comms and confirms the enemy sniper is downed, we can go back for Bayless and Al-Faroukh.”

“and Singh,” said Mirembe.

“...and Singh,” said Jack, his stomach hollowing.

“...And Klevstav...” Kimiko’s voice was hollow.

“...Klevstav, too,” said Jack.

“Wh--I’m sorry, you’re waiting!?” one of the hostages piped up, “You can leave and you’re waiting?!”

“Khassan--” another hostage touched his shoulder.

“Captain Amari is a vital agent--” Jack started.

“I’m sorry, but I had the barrel of a talon rifle down my throat 11 minutes ago, and you’re waiting for someone who’s probably dead! We all saw what that sniper could do! They’re dead! The only chance we have is getting out of here!”

“You’re hysterical, sit down, shut up and let us--” Kimiko started but Jack put a hand up.

“...Drone intel says Talon forces are regrouping,” said Mirembe, looking at her own HUD, “If we stay here too long...”

He took a steadying breath. “I did say wheels up in two minutes,” said Jack. He turned toward the ship’s cockpit, “Ray, get us out of here.”

“But sir--” said Kimiko.

“...Amari ignored a direct order and clicked out of the comms,” said Jack, “That was her prerogative. If she hasn’t called in, we have to assume the worst. Our priority is to get the hostages to safety.” It’s what she would do, if she were here, thought Jack. His stomach turned at the thought.

Kimiko paled and Mirembe slumped into her seat.

“Ray?” said Jack to the cockpit, “You heard me.”

“...Right, sir,” said Ray, and the ship started thrumming as it lifted off.

Jack took his own seat and strapped in as the smoking city shrank beneath them.

----

If the two minutes passed in an instant back on the mission, getting off the dropship back in Zurich felt like an eternity. They were able to drop the hostages off at another Watchpoint in Krakow before continuing on to Zurich. The sky was sickly yellow with a sun-through-fog twilight when they touched down. It wasn’t the first time he had lost a soldier, but Ana was far more than just a soldier. He would never forget the look in Gabe’s eyes as the remains of the strike team emerged from the ship. Jack had sent him a short briefing before they landed, told him what happened, but that searching look in Gabriel’s eyes told him that it hadn’t sunk in, and why should it? Of the three of them, both he and Gabe were so sure Ana would outlive them both. The way he lingered, still staring at the open door of the Orca as Jack made his way down to him, made every step sting. She was gone. LaCroix, then Liao, and now her. She hit differently.

“Gabe,” Jack started.

“I talked to Sojourn,” the words fell out of Gabe’s mouth, his eyes not meeting Jack’s, “She’s heading a task force to take on the brunt of Ana’s duties until we can name her as official replacement and the dust settles with the UN.”

Jack’s mouth was hanging open slightly. The orca’s engines were still humming in the silence between them, giving that silence a body and bringing its weight down on them.

“Good,” Jack said, just as hollowly, “That’s... good. Sojourn--yes. She’s good.”

Gabriel took him up in a hug and he returned the embrace. It was tight, there was some relief in the tension of their arms around each other. Jack wanted to wring his fingers against the cloth of Gabriel’s hoodie, press his face just under Gabe’s ear and breathe in his scent, but he settled for pressing his jaw against the top of Gabe’s shoulder. Their relationship was far from secret to most of Overwatch’s staff, but there was only so much intimacy they could express there on Zurich’s tarmac. The pain they would bear together, that true stinging ugly grief that made you want to scream and cry and throw up, that grief that felt like a severed chord leaving you adrift in space, could not be borne here. They knew that as they both gently loosened the embrace. Here, their only comfort was the work. And there was always plenty of work.

“I’ve already organized with our security forces in Krakow,” Jack went on, “We’ll get boots on the ground. Come back with a bigger strike team and work with local law enforcement. Comb the area for her.”

For her body.

Gabriel gave a stiff nod. “She could have been captured,” he said, glancing off. But the briefing had told him more than enough. A sniper like that wasn’t there to take prisoners.

“She got you back safe,” said Gabe, “She always did.”

----

The sheets were in disarray from being pulled over him and pushed off of him multiple times. The smoke detector on the ceiling stared down at him with red, unblinking indifference. The bed was too soft. Gabriel was lying on his stomach, his arm draped across Jack’s chest, his fingertips curling at his temple. Memories of the Crisis always made sleep a complicated subject, but Gabe helped. The fear wasn’t quite the same when Gabe was there--he was afraid of losing him, sure, but at the same time, he always felt like they could take on anything so long as they had each others’ backs, and yet, (and this was that rotten, clawing grief) that invulnerability didn’t seem to be there anymore.

 He remembered Ana playfully swatting them both upside their heads when they’d get too caught up in their own inside jokes and they had to re-focus on the mission, impressive, considering her height. He remembered her showing them pictures of Fareeha every time Sam sent her an update from home. He remembered her easily taking them down a few notches when they got too cocky, or reasoning away any self doubt with only a few well-chosen words. He remembered the three of them taking shelter in the bathroom of a shelled out hotel room in the worst of the crisis, she had taken the tub, forcing Jack and Gabe to lean on each other against the cracked tile wall. And then the next morning she obnoxiously stretched and went on about what a good night’s sleep she got while Jack and Gabe were grumbling and stiffly rolling their shoulders.

But now she was gone, and the bed was too damn soft.

Jack’s eyes flicked over to the comm on his bedside table and he picked up the comm.

“It’s going to be offline,” Gabe’s voice was half muffled into the pillow.

Jack pretended not to hear him, or pretended to assume he was talking in his sleep as he scrolled to Ana Amari’s comm status on his comm.

OFFLINE.

He huffed and set the comm back on the bedside table, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“Told you,” said Gabe.

Jack shot a sharp look over at him and Gabe’s eyes opened, brown, shining, framed by dark lashes. That snark of his was just as much a weapon as a shield. Jack sighed and readjusted himself in bed and brushed his fingertips along the side of Gabe’s closely-cropped hair. Time was not being kind to either of their hairlines, and Gabe loved blaming it on the SEP serum.

“You can talk about it,” said Gabe, turning on his side and bringing his hand up over Jack’s.

“We shouldn’t have been on the mission,” said Jack.

“Mm?” Gabriel’s eyes sharpened slightly.

“I know we said the second we permanently go behind the desk, that’s the second we forget the stakes for everyone we put out there but...” Jack trailed off.

“You think she died because you’re old!?” said Gabriel pushing up against the pillows.

“I don’t know--I--”

“She died because there was a sniper on a level none of us were prepared for, because Talon doesn’t care about fair engagement and Talon’s willing to pump its soldiers with whatever nightmarish crap it can to get an edge in a fight.”

“So maybe I should have pumped myself with nightmarish crap like you?” the words slipped out of Jack.

The shift in Gabriel’s expression made Jack realize his words came from a deeper place of resentment than just his own fury at himself. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m--”

“I get it. Grieving,” Gabriel glanced off.

“I’m sorry,” said Jack.

“I know,” said Gabe, taking his hand off of Jack’s and lying on his back, making Jack pull his own hand away, “I hate it too. If Blackwatch wasn’t benched, maybe we would have had the intel...”

“Gabe, you have no idea how much better I would feel if I could put your teams back out there, but there has to be accountability---”

“Talon doesn’t give a shit about accountability and you know it’s going to keep using the fact that we do to hurt people. To kill people,” said Gabe, “We know what we’re up against and we know needs to be done, not some cardboard standee in the UN pearl-wringing about their voter polls and corporate backers. But when they tie our hands and people die because we can’t do shit, apparently that’s our accountability,” Gabe was gripping the mattress cover, the cloth clenched taught in a starburst of wrinkles under his fist.

“Gabe,” Jack touched on his shoulder.

“I should have been there,” Gabe’s voice seemed smaller, he was trying to half-stuff it into the pillows, “If it had been the three of us...” it wavered, weak, tinged with a song-like pitch of a near-crack, “If it had been the three of us...”

Jack sank down and curled around him and that first shuddering sob that came out of Gabe was all that was needed to break the levees for both of them. Jack couldn’t recall the last time either of them cried this hard--a wet convulsion surging up from the diaphragm, breath looping hot back into the lungs with those gasping sobs, tears saturating faces and pillowcases and sheets, so much snot he’d almost laugh for a second because he felt ridiculous before it all came surging up and breaking down again.

You’re laughing and she’s not here.

Hands tense on skin, fingers digging into muscles, just as much clawing as hugging, they buried their tears and their cries into each other. Maybe if Gabe had the strength to bring his walls back up he’d manage a few sob-choked words about both of them being grown ass men, but the strength wasn’t there. Despite all the crap the SEP program and Moira had pumped into them, it granted no defense against a loss so profound. Their captain. Their team. Their friend. Their family. And at some point it wasn’t just Ana anymore. It was Gérard. It was Mina. It was Bayless and Singh and Al-Faroukh and Klevstav. It was every bright-eyed dumbass kid who had gotten themselves killed following the wrong order from him. It was this great open wound of a world that was eating away at more and more of who they were and what they fought for and how they loved each other. Jack and Gabriel let the grief submerge them both, pushing and surging up in them with their breaths like waves in a storm.

Hold me until this rips me apart, thought Jack, and maybe then it will stop. Maybe then I can rest.

-----

They never recovered the body. That was the worst of it. The Polish government was able to deliver the bodies of Bayless, Al-Faroukh, Singh, and Klevstav, but Ana was nowhere to be found. They had combed through photos of bodies in hospital morgues, but none of them were her. The media had a feeding frenzy with that. And then they had to bring up the Ecopoint: Antarctica fiasco as well. “How many loved ones has Overwatch failed to bring home?”

The memorial service was... pretty nice, for an overcast day. Just a humble little ceremony with laurel wreaths framing holo-portraits of the deceased flanking both sides of the memorial wall, with Ana’s own portrait placed at the center in front of the podium where various teammates and family members gave their eulogies. The bodies themselves were being shipped back to their respective countries, to let their families and militaries put them to rest in their own ways, but there was still a ceremony to put their names up on Zurich’s memorial wall and let their coworkers say a few works and make their goodbyes.

Nearly every Overwatch member not currently on a mission was there. Jack scanned across the crowd. Mercy looked exhausted, as usual, smudges of sleeplessness and mascara around her eyes from her own stuffed down crying. She was comforting a sobbing Tracer with Torbjörn sitting next to her, looking about as stone-faced as he could but letting out a stubborn sniffle every now and then. Genji looked on, arms folded, caught between the desire to help the clearly distraught Tracer and a clear sense of his inability to do so. McCree had tried to clean himself up as much as he could for the ceremony, but Jack could feel his hangover from across the headquarters’ green. Jack didn’t judge him. They all mourned in their own ways.

He and Gabe gave their own eulogies, both relieved they had gotten the worst of their cries out a few nights previous. They were both able to hold it down, give the people in the audience something to lean on. As the speeches and ceremony ended, everyone in the audience stood up in a gently coasting line, the line itself gliding past the memorial wall, each of them passing a hand over the new names carved into it. Jack watched as Reinhardt took up the tail end of the line, of course he had been sitting in the back so as to not block anyone’s view with his massive size. Jack watched as Reinhardt quietly brushed the back of his knuckles against the names on the wall--some of them probably his own soldiers, before stopping at the wall’s end and the new names there. He pressed his forehead against the stone and Jack watched as Reinhardt’s massive shoulders shook with a few suppressed sobs before Torbjörn stepped up and led him off.

If it had been the three of us... Gabe’s voice echoed in his mind.

If it had been the old team... thought Jack.

The memorial assembly was walking to the Headquarters’ reception hall for a light lunch and drinks. Jack and Gabe trailed at the end of the party, while McCree lingered by the memorial wall a bit longer. 

“...You’re going to talk to him later, right?” said Jack looking back at McCree.

“Yeah,” said Gabe, “He wouldn’t be able to hit the broad side of a barn without Ana so... he’s taking it pretty hard. ‘Course he has to do the cowboy tough guy thing about it...”

“Mm,” Jack kept his eyes on the patent leather of his formal shoes as he walked. 

“Commander Morrison?” A voice that sounded like Ana’s did back in the Crisis threw Jack off-kilter for a few moments as he turned around. He had barely gotten a glimpse of the woman’s face before he felt a fist collide with his cheek. She hit hard. He reeled back and he heard a dozen guns loading in his defense as he was splayed out onto the cement by the force of the blow.

“Fareeha!” Sam stepped in and put a hand on Fareeha Amari’s shoulder.

Jack’s eyes trailed up to a tall woman in a formal Egyptian special forces uniform, a beret embellished with a gold-stitched eagle, and her sleek black hair tied back in a bun, save for a few gold beads hanging at her temples. A wadjet tattoo, but on the wrong eye.

The pain of the blow didn’t even really set in. All Jack could think was, ‘God, is that how old she is now? She punches like her mother.’

Her mother.

“You left her to die and you couldn’t even bring her home,” there was a fury rippling deep in Fareeha’s throat.

“Stand down,” Reyes stepped between her and Jack, “Don’t make this more of a spectacle than it already is.”

Jack could hear the rapid clicks of camera shutters from the crowd in the parking lot around him as he pushed up to a seated position on the concrete, he coughed and felt at his jaw.

“It’s okay, Gabe,” he said, as Gabe took his arm and helped him to his feet.

“No, it’s not okay!” said Fareeha, brown eyes glittering with tears, “She gave everything to this organization and you--you---!” 

She choked back a sob and Sam put a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged his hand off and walked off furiously, hugging herself as she did so.

“I...” Sam looked after her, “I’m sorry, she and Ana... the last things they said to each other...”

“You don’t have to apologize for her,” said Jack, still feeling at his jaw. 

“She can do that herself,” said Gabe, looking at the growing bruise on Jack’s jaw.

“She needs time. It’s not like back in the crisis,” said Sam glancing down, “Back then you could just say, ‘They were vaporized’ or something crazy like that and... and you just had to deal with it. I know sometimes there are things that you’re never going to get closure on but...you never think it’s going to be something like this huh?”

Jack glanced back at the memorial wall, where several Overwatch staffers were shifting the memorial wreaths around, one wheeling away the podium as the clouds overhead threatened rain. One of the staffers took Ana’s wreath from its stand in front of the podium, her holo-portrait blinking into nothingness with the movement.

“No, said Jack, “Never something like this.”

[thereluctantinquisitor]

🧡🍐🎀 For Riin, please? :3

🧡 Who is your OC’s favourite person? Why is this person the top of their list and have they actually met them (an idol or rolemodel or celeb can be someone’s favourite after all!).

I went more along the lines if a rolemodel/celebrity figure for this one. It doesn’t really come up much in the story, but Riin has always had a deep respect for a Kal-Kriyan hunter called Cihati. She leads the hunting group that ventures the furthest into the desert, and has done so for longer than any other in history. It is one of the most dangerous jobs in Kal-Kriya, with most (already highly experienced) hunters only rotating into the group for a few months at a time before either dying or rotating out to a safer posting. Cihati has been voluntarily running the group for almost sixteen years, and she has the scars to prove it. When she returns to the city (this group typically resides in a small, highly fortified outpost further to the west), it’s like witnessing a legend made flesh. Riin always dreamed of fighting alongside Cihati one day, but the call of the Kyriin captured his heart before he was ever skilled enough to join her.

TBH if he ever found himself face-to-face with her, he’d probably be too nervous to speak. It would be adorable.

Who does your OC absolutely hate, the one person who they’d sell to Satan for one corn chip? Why do they loathe this person so?

He hates the King of Talvera, who holds his contract. While Riin has never had any personal run-ins with the man, who treats him very respectfully, he resents the way the King treats others (like his children and servants). The only reason Riin did not walk away from his contract was because, by the time he found out what was going on, he had grown fond of Adiran and didn’t want to abandon him any earlier than he had to.

🍐 What is your OC’s mentality? Are they overall positive? Negative? A bit of both? Describe their thought patterns and reasoning behind their choice making!

Riin is an overall positive, self-confident person. He’s not a ‘ray of sunshine’ or anything, but he often tries to make the best out of situations without being careless and trivialising them. He’s very interested in the things he knows he can change, rather than getting caught up in what he cannot control, so there is a practicality that underlies his positivity as well. However, he does worry, especially when he does find himself faced with situations he cannot change. He hates helplessness, and there is more to navigating the world than physical strength. Learning that was quite a difficult process (after all, he journeyed east at 17, and was definitely cocky about his newfound abilities).

At the end of the day, Riin tries to make choices based on how well he can live with himself afterwards. However, all of these choices pass through a lens of duty due to his position as a Kyriin. Kal-Kriya comes first, always. This is also something he struggles with at times, especially after spending 10 years away from his homeland. With some decisions, he feels like he is being pulled in two separate directions, which can lead to indecision and, later, regret.

🎀 Do they wear a specific accessory with a special meaning behind it? What is their usual fashion sense like? What do they wear when they want to be comfortable and what do they wear when they’re going to a fancy party? Or do they just not care?  

Riin doesn’t really have any special accessory, although you won’t find him without his sword strapped to his side. His usual fashion is loose-fitting and comfortable, largely because he hates feeling like his movement is restricted. He tends to keep most of his skin covered, largely out of habit from living in the desert, but over time he has become more comfortable donning short sleeves when the weather is pleasant. He hates the cold and will wear a laughable about of layers to compensate. 

If heading out to a fancy party, Riin will typically wear whatever has been provided by the Talveran royal household. He doesn’t really have a ‘fancy’ wardrobe that he has chosen himself, but will be fitted with outfits for occasions when his presence is requested. At first, Riin just wore whatever he was given and didn’t pay it any mind, accepting that it was just all in a style he was not familiar with. But Riin does take pride in his appearance, and as he becomes more familiar with Talveran society and fashion, he makes alteration requests if he feels they are necessary.

[ghosthunthq]

Mission Gemini

@sprghosthunter (zelda3469) here! I had the pleasure of preparing a gift for @snavej! She did say in her request that she loves a good AU. Well, I hope this space themed AU will be good enough once it’s finished. And I hope I am not doing a terrible job of fulfilling her request to make Noll explicitly autistic and asexual. As of right now, this is a work in progress. Below is the first complete chapter (and please excuse any errors as I have failed to have this edited). My goal is to have this whole fic completed by August since I have some serious motivation to get this whole thing written asap, so be on the lookout at fanfiction.net!

She was in a world of pain. Heat pulsated through her veins as her head spun. Her stomach churned when she leaned forward in a desperate attempt to relieve herself of the burning agony. Strong, steady hands held her in place after she had fallen to her knees. With blurring vision she lifted her head. Her mouth hung open, but she was unable to make a sound.

The convulsions started soon after her knees had dug into the sun baked sand. The two masked soldiers maintained their grip as they glanced at one another. A third knelt before the twitching woman, observing her flushed face. He watched as beads of sweat collected at her hairline and as tears streamed down her hot cheeks. Beneath her stringy, ragged bangs dark brown eyes brightened. The color of her eyes lightened as streaks of green and azure blue tainted her irises.

“She’s another one, like the brat that got away. She’ll survive the serum,” spoke the soldier staring into her face. “We need to return to Nergal. The emperor will be most pleased we have found someone else.”

“And what of the remaining peasants? Is there any need to continue searching for another?”

“She is the only other inhabitant of the Geminian System that has ever survived. The odds are low we will find another here. I suggest we eradicate the planet entirely. No one will miss Zeta Geminorum C.”

All three soldiers looked at one another before nodding in agreement. Their young prisoner managed a yell in protest as her body continued to tremble.

“No! You can’t!”

They focused their attention on the woman again. The grip on her shoulders tightened as the soldier in front of her reached out to take her cheek in his hand. When his gloved fingers brushed against her skin the woman shook her head.

Gasping, as a clump of her hair was yanked, she snapped her gaze to the soldier. She was unable to see his eyes through his dark, shiny mask. She was only able to see a reflection of her terrified expression.

As she attempted to speak again the sensation that made her blood like it was boiling intensified. She sucked in a breath and her body crumpled forward. The soldiers all released their hold on her, allowing her to crash into the ground. Grains of sand dug into her forehead at the time of impact, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She began coughing, as she had unintentionally inhaled the arid soil.

“Get her on board immediately,” ordered the soldier that had been kneeling. He rose to full height, smirking behind his mask. “We’ll prepare for takeoff within the hour.”

…

Crimson lights flashed and alarms blared throughout the ship, sending the crew into a frenzy. Many had abandoned their duties to crowed the bleach tinted corridors. As the men and women aboard the Lugalirra shoved each other through the halls, the captain sat in the bridge, mute. The ringing drone from the ship’s emergency system he had initiated seconds before sounded distant. His sight was set on the window ahead of him, where an image of an updated map from the navigational system was projected. As his slender fingers lingered over the control panel he tightened his jaw. Never had he expected such a move from his opposition…nor did he fully understand it.

His first mate standing to his left, and two other trusted members of his crew standing behind him, the captain inhaled deeply. As he expelled the stale air in his lungs he stiffened his posture. He touched a finger to the panel and watched carefully as the area interest on the map expanded.

“This confirms it…” he whispered, eyes still trained on the map. “It really happened.”

“How?! How can they do that! I didn’t think it was possible!” shouted one of the crew members. He leaned over the captain, reaching for the toggle switch. The captain slapped his hand away.

“There is no need to witness it again, Takigawa.”

“But Captain Shibuya-”

The captain angled his head back and glared, “I understand that it must be difficult for you to accept. It wasn’t a mistake, and it was confirmed via the navigational system. I’m afraid you will not find any evidence that this tragedy was a hoax.”

“It was my home!”

The four men sat in silence as the sirens continued to resonate. Glowing lights bathed the bridge with a red hue. They cast dark shadows across the captain’s features as he maintained a stern visage.

“Brown,” spoke Captain Shibuya, “escort Takigawa to the lower deck.” The shorter of the men standing behind the captain nodded. He took his comrade’s arm and urged him to move back.

“I’m not leaving.”

“There is no need for your presence with your current state of mind. As of this moment, you serve no use to me.”

Takigawa lurched forward, a hand raised. His attempt to smack the youthful captain was thwarted by his fellow mate.

“There isn’t any need for violence, Takigawa. You know the captain has a point. It’s best you take yourself out of this situation for now,” said John Brown. He loosened his hold on Takigawa slightly as he closed his eyes. “Come on, let’s go.”

The larger man refused to move as John nudged him. He held his clenched fists at his side as he cast his gaze down. A dry laugh escaped his lips.

“No need for violence? Did you not just see what happened?”

“I meant-”

Takigawa interrupted John, “An entire planet was destroyed! And every single life on that planet was lost! Now you’re telling me this isn’t the time for violence?! This is time for a revolution! Waiting any longer would be foolish! To know they can just…obliterate an entire people like that…”

Sighing, the captain crossed his arms. He returned his focus to the center window, studying the holographic map splayed over the glass.

“To begin a revolution at this moment would be foolish. It is highly unlikely that any civilians in the empire will learn of this event. If there were to be uprisings, they would not be of substantial size. They would start small. Anyone, or any planet associated with one, would likely meet a fate similar to Zeta Geminorum C. A successful revolution needs to be carefully cultivated. The people must also have a figure to which they can look for hope. Unfortunately, no such figure exists as of now.”

“So we’re just going to sit back and watch them take out planet after planet?!”

Holding a hand to his face, Captain Shibuya rolled his eyes, “You don’t seem to understand. There is currently no groundwork for a large-scale rebellion. If we were to instigate uncoordinated uprisings now there would be a massive number of casualties. It would serve as a warning to others that might be inspired to join the cause. The support for a rebellion must be large enough that the empire can’t simply annihilate every threat without endangering its own economy and standing as a galactic power. Until there is enough underground support, there is nothing of consequence that can be done.”

“Then broadcast this to the whole damn empire! That’ll gain plenty of support!”

The first mate, Lin, spoke in place of the captain, “Yes, you are correct, but it would also lead to many unorganized protests. Lives would be wasted due to initial reactions of some citizens. People like you, Takigawa, would act blindly and rashly. That wouldn’t do any good in starting a revolution. It would give the empire the opportunity to make an example of those that cross them.”

“But-”

“Enough of this,” the captain didn’t allow Takigawa the chance to continue his argument. “Brown, escort Takigawa out, now. And do not allow him back in here until he has gotten his emotions under control.”

Scrambling, John pushed against Takigawa. He was desperate to get him out before the situation tensed further. Once he managed to get Takigawa a few steps back before Lin moved to assist him. After the two left the bridge with Takigawa between them, the captain stood. The navy tails of his coat licked at the back of his heels as he walked to the window. He gazed through the transparent map and out at the stars. Wondering what Urado’s motive was in destroying a planet so recklessly he brushed a hand through his dark hair.

Captain Shibuya was aware that there had been no talk of uprisings on Zeta Geminorum C. Takigawa had once told him that the planet’s inhabitants tried to remain neutral after the fall of the monarchy. There were those that did resent the empire, of course, but most of them opted to stay silent to live out their lives quietly. A good number did join the Pollux Pirates when Captain Shibuya began recruiting members for the sake of a better future… Really, the captain had Takigawa to thank for convincing a solid third of his crew to join…

Regardless, there didn’t appear to be a logical reason as to the sudden genocide. There was no point to prove that Captain Shibuya could see.

As he turned back, Captain Shibuya squinted. The constant flickering of the red lights was bothering him, however, it did remind him that he needed to address his entire crew. They needed to know of the events that had transpired, as many of them once called a plant that ceased to exist home.

Captain Shibuya returned to the control panel and swiped his hand across it. The projection of the map vanished, and the system alarms were silenced. A section of the panel opened with a hiss, and a small camera rose to the level of the captain’s eye. He stepped back as it hovered. A light embedded to the lower right of the lens blinked green three times prior to turning solid orange.

With a completely stoic face, the captain began his broadcast to the crew. He maintained a level tone as he spoke.

“As your captain, it is my obligation to inform you all of the egregious actions the Geminian Empire has taken in the name of their emperor, Urado, just only moments ago. We have all witnessed the ruthless nature of the empire since the downfall of the federation, yet these latest atrocities have set a new, alarming precedent.” He paused, wanting to make certain he had everyone’s attention. “It is imperative that we continue with our mission to dismantle the empire in order to prevent future catastrophes.”

Another pause.

“I offer my deepest sympathies to all of you that once lived on Zeta Geminorum C, as it has been permanently eradicated by the Geminian Military. The reasoning behind the destruction of this planet remains unclear. Though many of you are likely devastated by this fact, and wish to take immediate action, I must order that each and everyone of you keep this news secret. I fear that a similar events may ensue if the general population of the empire were to learn of this massacre. So I repeat: I order you all to keep this secret. This matter is of great importance, and therefore I will not be merciful to anyone that dares to defy me.”

…

“You’re damn lucky there wasn’t a mutiny,” Lin scolded his captain. “You do realize that more than sixty percent of your crew detests you at present, yes?”

“But do they detest me more so than Urado?”

“Kazuya, that isn’t the point. You’re walking a thin line at present. If you make one single mistake it could very well cost you your life. I understand that everyone aboard needed to be made aware of the situation, but I think it was a mistake for you to make such a bold threat.”

Slouched in his chair, the captain crossed his arms and shrugged, “I had no choice. They had to know what happened. I couldn’t hide that kind of information from them, especially once Takigawa found out. If this news were to leak to the general public, from us, things would not end well. Of course, we want to preserve as many lives as possible. But if the information were to leak before any announcement, if the empire announces anything, it would be obvious that we have some to their private channels. It took me far too long to get into them once. I cannot imagine the amount of time we would waste if I had to repeat the process. We would lose contact with Madoka. Those channels are our only link to her, and she is too valuable an asset to lose.”

Lin had no retort. The captain’s points were valid, but he was still on thin ice. It worried Lin that Kazuya didn’t appear to take his own safety into consideration the majority of the time. It was almost always and afterthought….

“I’ll be careful,” Kazuya made eye contact with Lin. “You have my word.”

Staring into the captain’s violet blue eyes, Lin slowly spoke, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

With a raised brow Kazuya replied, “I already gave you my word, or are you deaf? I’ll be careful.”

[missmungoe]

I think you wrote that Shanks’ father wasn’t a good dad, and your Shanks brings up his mother from time to time. Which one do you think Shanks inherited the hair color from? His father would be nice, seeing as Shanks is all about being your own person regardless of where and who you came from

Oh, I love that, and the thought of him reclaiming it for himself, since it becomes the basis for his whole pirate moniker, but I’ve also always loved the thought that he got it from his mother?

I haven’t written anything about her beyond the occasional mention in my fics, but I figured it was time to rectify that, so here’s a short little thing.

LIONHEART // Shanks-centric // Shanks x Makino // rated G

Out of all his memories of his childhood, his mother was the clearest, seeming a fixed point in his mind, curiously enduring. Other impressions weren’t as unforgettable, shifting like the push and pull of the tide, sometimes at the very front of his mind, sometimes just out of reach. But where everything else faded, scents and sounds and images worn thin by the sea of years, Shanks remembered her vividly—the red, untamed mane of her hair and the roar of her laughter.

He’d left home early, not even thirteen, although with his mother buried there hadn’t been much of a home left to keep him land-bound. And the world had taught him quickly that there was little room for children on the high seas, but he’d always found his footing easily, quick to adjust to change, and when he’d first found his sea legs he’d felt there was nothing in the world that could tip him off balance. He’d been made for this—had been born to it, conceived and shaped with the sea’s blessing, his mother’s feet steady as her stomach grew big with him, every month making her work more difficult, but she'd bit her teeth and had carried him through her duties, aboard the ship that had seen him come into the world.

You were born belowdecks, in the throes of the worst storm I can remember, she’d used to tell him, whenever he’d ask. And he’d known the story by heart, but she’d always tell it as though it was the first time; Shanks remembered how she’d pitch her voice low, and how she’d pause at certain places to build the suspense. And he remembered how her eyes would soften, a tender sadness in the weight of them that it had taken years to understand.

You were rocked to sleep by the sea, the first year of your life. I don’t think it ever left you, even after I brought you ashore.

She’d been a sailor, second mate to the captain of a trading vessel—his father, although Shanks had few memories of him, beyond the vague impression of floorboards creaking under old leather boots, and the things she’d kept of him; books, the only gifts he’d ever brought her, and their giving the only times he’d seen his mother smile at his old man.

She’d never told him why she’d left service, but he could wager a guess. The captain’s son or not, having him on board would have been deemed more trouble than he was worth. A different captain might not have minded, and there were children born and raised on ships who took their first steps with the sea underfoot and who never left it, but his mother had retired a year after he’d been born. Shanks doubted it had been an entirely voluntary dismissal, but he could imagine the alternative well enough.

His father had visited—until one day, when he’d stopped. He remembered a ship leaving port, and his mother’s hand gripping his, her anger tempered by nothing but sheer force of will, for his sake. He’d never returned, and for as long as she’d lived, she’d never forgiven him for it; as little as Shanks had understood of their marriage, he’d known that much. She’d never been the same, as though his leaving had uprooted something in her that she’d never reclaimed.

It had been a betrayal, he saw now. The things his father had denied her—her post, her crew, the sea—he’d chosen for himself. And she’d missed the sea. Like her hair, like her loud, unapologetic laugh, he remembered that—the longing for the horizon in her eyes, like a sickness of the heart. But if even his father wouldn’t have her on board, who would hire a woman with a young child in tow?

He remembered the wrongness of her, encased within the cramped walls of their cottage. It had always seemed too small for her, for how she’d been, everything about her too loud, too big, with wild roots that had never taken to the soil of their home. Nestled between the rocks on the outermost edge of the shore, it had forever been at the mercy of the sea’s changing temper, but she’d refused to settle further inland, even as the cottage had more than once threatened to come apart around them.

It reminded her of a pitching deck, she’d say, when the floorboards would sing from the storm and the sea tossing against the walls, the wind howling through the rafters, brine on its breath. Those were the memories he treasured most, when she’d dance across the slippery floor, the water dripping from the ceiling to douse the fire of her hair. And she’d be laughing, the sound louder than the storm and carrying an old shanty to accompany the whining protest of the timbers as she secured the hatch and the windows, telling of all hands on deck, and safe harbours beyond the gale. She’d never had a voice for singing, but that had never once stopped her.

His mother had been fearless—or at least she’d seemed that way to Shanks, although even through the lens of hindsight and experience, his impression of her hadn’t changed; the woman who’d lived in the breach where the sea met the shore, and who’d had the courage to always put herself last without a second’s hesitation.

Growing up, he’d often wondered why she hadn’t just left. His father had made that choice without trouble; the sea over his family, as it often was with sailors. An inevitable fate.

But his mother had been a sailor, too, and there was no excuse, Shanks knew now. You always had a choice. His father’s had just been the easiest; the coward’s way out.

He’d asked her once, why she hadn’t gone back to sea—why she hadn’t just left him like his father had, to be free to join a crew, or to make her own. He’d asked why she hadn’t chosen freedom, and she’d laughed.

You say that like it wasn’t what I did, she’d said, reaching out to brush his hair away from his face; red like hers, but nowhere near as wild. He wondered now, his own son grown and his spitting image, how much of his father had lingered with him, and if she’d found it hard looking at him sometimes.

But whatever her feelings towards his old man, whatever resentment had remained in his wake, she’d never let him feel so much as a shred of it. It was his sharpest memory—the way her hand had lingered by his cheek, the grooves and callouses in her palm left by ship’s rope and a sailor’s life, worn smooth but never forgotten, as she’d told him, simply but truthfully,

Freedom is to choose happiness, little lion.

And I chose you.

“Dad?”

Blinking, the old cottage with its uneven, singing floorboards and slanted roof disappeared, replaced with sturdy hardwood floors, with tables and chairs and shelves stacked with bottles and jars, brown and amber liquor and preserved fruits like gemstones in glass. A pirate’s trove of little, homely treasures, the most valuable of which was watching him curiously, a serving tray cradled to her chest.

“Sorry,” Shanks said, reaching for a smile. “I got lost in thought. Did I miss an order?”

The gentle amusement in the slight purse of her mouth was familiar, and, “Mom handled it,” she told him, with a glance across the room to where Makino weaved between the tables; a captain on deck, even without water underfoot.

His youngest looked back at him, delicate brows lifting with a question. “What were you thinking about?”

Shanks felt his smile soften. The noise from the bar pushed against the edge of his hearing, but there was no storm here, no wind howling through the rafters, and his mother had stopped singing half a lifetime ago.

“What it was like to be your age,” he said at length—and with an exaggerated sigh, “I know—I was young once, believe it or not.”

She curled her fingers around the tray, considering him, before remarking gently, “You were a pirate when you were my age.”

He grinned. Like her amusement, that intrigue was familiar, and like her mother, she was terrible at hiding it. “Aye,” he mused, reaching out to poke the tip of her nose, and the pale freckles dotting the delicate bridge. “Clearly, you make better choices. Safer ones, anyhow. A good thing, because I doubt my heart could take you running off to sea—your sister has been making plans since she could walk. I’d bet my remaining arm she’s already got her bags packed.” He shook his head. “You’d think the promise of a violent amputation would discourage her, if only just a little bit. What did I even lose an arm for, if not to be a living, terrifying example to keep my children away from sea kings?”

Her eyes curved at that, and she didn’t contradict his statement. Then again, her sister had never made a secret of her sea-longing, although Shanks would have recognised it even if she hadn’t been so cheerfully vocal about it. His mother had looked the same, her eyes seas away even as her heart had been anchored.

He caught the slight shift of her expression, her smile slipping, and, “Would you go out to sea again if you could?” came the query, calmly spoken despite the slight note of uncertainty in her voice (and she didn’t ask do you miss it?, perhaps because the answer was already implied, or perhaps because she understood that it didn’t answer what she really wanted to know, which was would you ever leave us for it?).

But then she was that—calm, and unshakable, the latter trait easily attributed to her mother, but Shanks had always wondered if she hadn’t gotten a little of that from him, too. Once he’d made a choice, he never wavered. And everything she represented—the island, the bar, her mother and her siblings—it all amounted to the most important choice in his life.

Across the room, a laugh rose up from the crowd. Her sister’s, the loudest he’d ever heard. Shanks caught her eye, saw the toothy flash of her smile and her dark hair, sea-shells in the thick braid that leapt like a cat’s tail wherever she turned her head. And it was strange, watching the things you’d imparted of yourself take root and grow, hair and laughter and sea-longing, even as he didn’t feel his own anymore, the memory faded and thin, like the impression of old leather boots, and his father’s ship leaving port for the last time. Other, brighter images had taken their place—the red of his youngest’s hair, and her sister’s laughter. His son’s well-thumbed books, and ink-stained fingertips. The happiest he’d ever been, holding each of them for the very first time.

He understood now why his mother had laughed when he’d asked why she didn’t just leave him, if she missed the sea.

“No, my girl,” he said, bending to kiss the crown of her head, her short hair, red like his, although there was little of the sea in their youngest; their steady-footed girl, her lion's heart moored to the island she’d been born. There was courage in that heart, Shanks knew; different from her sister’s boldness, but no less certain. She’d never waver in her choices, once made; was brave enough to make them, whatever they'd be.

And she had the freedom to make them, whatever they’d be. If there was any legacy he’d happily lay claim to, it was ensuring his children were free to chart their own course; that they were free to decide where they wanted their lives to take them. And freedom for him wasn’t the open sea, and had never been that in truth. It was choosing to leave it, and to be allowed that choice, and all that came with it.

“I’ve got all I need right here.”

[limitedrevolverworks]

My Mother 2.0 [1]

They called this a city once, back when most humans hadn’t stowed themselves away inside the Domes yet. It was the kind of noisy place where the hustle and bustle of life made itself heard from one sunrise ‘til the next, a shiny wonderland carpeted with so many lights, you would have had a hard time deciding whether the sky was above or below. If the stars dotting the night beyond several strata of thickly layered particulates have anything in common with this place now, it would be that neither is host to any form of life.

They called this a city once, and it was alive. It was so, so alive. Sturdy spires of steel and glass which arose from the ground were the body. Elevated roads intertwining and crossing with each other without beginning nor end, the veins pulsating with the motorized flow of nuclear-powered vehicles. Thoughts were born from within and cast across a massive cloud of signal waveforms, connecting together the minds and hearts of the citizen - the heartbeat of civilization. The city spoke with holographic ads and neon decorations, inviting the populace to play the game of consumerism and forget about whatever may have lied outside its boundaries. It was a wonderful haven, a cradle for blind children.

They called this a city once, before “battlefield” became a much more apt definition, and far earlier than when it became pointless to call it anything but remnants and similar other definitions.

All is quiet in the windswept ruins today, as it has been yesterday, and the thousand others that came before it. The sound of decadent stillness is a gentle breeze dusting off the wreckages of amputated buildings and purposeless machinery. Mangled corpses with their artificial innards left exposed, to gnawed at by the acidic rains that sweep the surface in periods that span months - at times, even more than that. The last sizzling drop fell a week ago, marking the end of a record-setting decade-long shower. The clouds above have thinned into filaments the same color of the dirty gray soil beneath them now, and it won’t be long before they grow back into overbloated bags of poisonous death. Four years at best. Six months at worst.

Positronic filaments of nano-nerve swimming inside an enriched electrolite gel gaze upon the decomposing landscape through a single optical lens swiping back and forth within the confines of its horizontal visor. Visual data is fed to the wetware-borne maws of artificial neurons governed by quaternary code, providing a cause: only then is the effect produced, and that effect is an emotion, simulated though it may be. However shoddy this attempt at imitating the spark of its creators’ life may be, it nonetheless wouldn’t be so far-fetched to say that what the machine “feels” is worry.

None of it shows on its face, nor will it ever. A tactical visor with its unblinking blue light cannot squint, nor arch an eyebrow it does not possess. Nor could those lips grimace appropriately, cast as they are in the same solid alloy as the rest of its body, their illusion of softness almost cruel. Its face is a mask, forever constricted in a role that it has long since abandoned

(although it would be more correct to say that it was her duty that abandoned her)

just like the scarred rest of its armored shell. Gray plaques and arrays fused to a sleek blue anthropomorphic frame: like an accident on the evolutionary scale, a misstep between a human female and a military craft. It--she would easily pass off for yet another piece of scrap among the many others dotting the scenery, were she not moving, thinking and mulling to herself over how troublesome the immediate future is going to be. Hers are unsteady steps, made less than even by whatever attempt she made at jury-rigging a solution to damage that her left leg’s joint received some century or so before. It makes the trek across the broken wasteland a painstakingly excruciating chore, as if a road paved with more climbing than actual walking didn’t already provide more than enough of an annoyance.

A chore, yes, but a necessary one nonetheless. Raw materials won’t come to her lair by themselves, convenient though it would be. Her foraging expeditions and warped atmospherical agents have brought her this far, miles upon miles of terrain outstripped of its every salvageable resource between her abode and the new boundary she has set here, one among the many monuments to conflicts older than even her left by humanity. Soon - say, a dozen or so years - she might have to relocate her hideout altogether. Carve herself a comfortable nest underneath the rubble and bent metal and the skeletons of broken technology, and then...

And then wait. Sleep. Recharge. Tinker with this or that device in an attempt to reproduce the components necessary to repair her damaged energy cells. Gather the materials to do so. Live, with no other purpose than living, for no reason other than that she does not feel like letting herself do otherwise. Waiting, alone, with the sole company of her silen--

The glowing trapezoidal arrays connected to the side of the machine’s head perk up, greedily rerouting power to themselves to extend their range of action. The faint hum could easily be a particular strong gust of wind in the distance, but her recognition software too good to fall pray to the silly assumption. She has plenty of time to seek a hiding spot beneath the overturned, charred chassis of some kind of unrecognizable contraption the size of a house and let her visual feed prove her suspect right.

It is little more than a dot at first, lost among the particles invading her ultra-zoomed vision. Minutes pass as it grows into a definite shape hovering above the horizon: anti-gravitational cells in a set of four, sustaining the weight of a gleaming white frame, its rectangularity softened by the smoothness of its every corner. There is an otherwordly elegance to this vehicle which was clearly produced within a Dome. It rides the emptiness between its clean, pristine self and the ugly soil like a specter, advancing while in the middle of a descent so gradual it’s nearly imperceptible, until at last mere few meters separate it from landing, and a hundred or so from its attentive observer.

From her limited perspective, the machine can only hear the sound of doors sliding open, and get a glimpse of a silhouette falling - thrown, that is - with a soft thud on the ground below. It isn’t followed by the other passengers: their mysterious cargo has barely left them, that they’ve already arisen and begun to retrace their invisible pathway back to their little bubble, away from the filthy legacy of their ancestors.

Moments pass, compounding seconds together into clumps of minutes that pile up until, at last, the machine has decided that she won’t stay there to wait any further and watch it crash over her, prudence be damned. She abandons her hiding spot to sneak through the most roundabout route to the source of her curiosity and caution alike: no sane Dome-dweller would leave their comfy artificial cradle just to dump their garbage in some forgotten corner of the ruined rest of the world. Humanity has a knack for shoving away that which displeases it, and then pretending it never was there in the first place - oh, she certainly knows a thing or two about that.

It’s experience that keeps her sensors primed and reawakens combat sub-routines that had been hibernating for aeons since the last time they wered called upon. Slow step after another, with caution impeded by that lame leg of hers, bitter resentment guides her to the innocuous-looking bundle of rags with methodical lack of haste. Several signs and tells begin to become manifest one after the other, sensorial perceptions that all come together to tell her that whatever’s wrapped inside that ruined mess of cloth, it is alive - and it is unwell.

She confused it for static at first, but she stands corrected now that a few paces stand between them. The thing breathes: a series of wheezes desperately attempting to make their way through passageways too clogged to let more than a few particles of dirty air through, in a slow rhythm occasionally broken by failed attempts at coughing. It’s a wonder that something could still be alive with their respiratory system doing such a poor job. It is also cruelly reassuring. If anyone has to fear for themselves, it’s not the former military weapon still armed with somewhat functional ordnance. There are other percentages of the latter’s artificial brain that scream otherwise, overzealous as they are in their stubborn attachment to predictional percentages of danger and whatnot. They get rerouted and quietly shut down by the overwhelming majority of routines begging to uncover the first genuine sign of novelty that has made itself manifest in what must have been forever. By the time she has crouched and plucked away a patch of fraying fabric, there’s no space left for doubt - only surprise, locked behind her immovable features.

The child takes a few seconds to look back at her with his eyes clouded by the viscous, opaque tears streaming from them. He does not speak, and likely cannot either way. He doesn’t express the same amount of bewilderment as his finder - he doesn’t express anything in fact, because pain has twisted his features into pure agony... at least whichever of them are visible.

Rigid fingers like sturdy gauntlets reach out and delicately poke the visage without protests from its owner, or any sign that he even noticed this invasion of his personal space for that matter. Miridium alloy clinks against chitinous scales of unknown origin or nature: they cover at least half of the boy’s face, going as far as to reach his hairline, and who knows how much of his body that has yet to be revealed. His right eye and the corresponding corner of his mouth are almost sealed shut, left with mere slits to peek through, barely enough to emote - the remaining rest of his features do more than their fair share of the job, anyway.

The machine reaches deep into her database for a match that does not exist. A disease or viral agent of some sort, the effects of a biological weapon or something else entirely: any and all of these could have caused what is plaguing the the boy’s body. Any would be a good reason to cast him away, for the purity-obsessed dwellers of the Domes.

A blue dot shines faintly on the boy’s visible eye, over the grey humor fogging it up. The machine’s “pupil” is fixated on this doomed little package, and what are likely to become his last, pathetic moments. A forgotten left-over, doomed to inconsequential oblivion amidst the ruins of other hushed mistakes.

There is nothing tethering her to this place. She could arise and walk away to resume her self-imposed routine, filing this chance meeting as a little aside, a single speck of dust in the vast desert of her dull memories. Cold logic nudges her in that direction, telling her to act like the machine she is.

Her decision is a spark of emotional illogicity, utterly broken like that of her voice module bristling to life with the difficulty that comes from having left it unused for longer than entire outposts have been alive.

“Alri-i-i-i-i-ight. Let’s fix you U-U-U-U-U-U-p.”