#the guy on the left is perfectly alive and monologuing the whole time.

[rocketbirdie]

deranged picnic

[elgascreamslikehell]

It's something something Sunday again!!

I know the final, i know the name - it'll be.. okay, I don't really have a name cause i stuck with 'don't die before i do' cause it is dramatic enough but TOO CLICHÉ. The funniest part still i have ending part and bonus part finished and now I'm still fixing the beginning.

This is the part of beginning)) kinda

'But enough chatting, i wanted to have him'- Alan points to Buck with a gun which makes Eddie instantly furious: 'As my shield to get out alive but i don't need two shields apparently, so we don't need him anymore. You see, Diaz, you shouldn't come back here' There's this clicking sound of the trigger making Eddie nauseous. That's not fair. You can't just shoot Buck. Not him. God i saw him dead once and it's my nightmare for the rest of my life. Just stop. Put your gun down. 'Buck, go away!' It was bold to assume Buck would really obey. Why is it always so cliché? Bad guy with a gun, good guy is just wrong time wrong place and minor character who has nothing to do, just watch. Who the hell decided Eddie is minor character actually? Sometimes ago, like very long time ago, Eddie spent nights watching old tv series of the mobile army hospital. It was that time when Shannon left him and Chris has a lot of issues so sleep was something Eddie just couldn't afford. So, in one of the episodes - he remembers it clearly cause it was quite a drama - was a whole monologue of 'you never hear the bullet'. It ends with 'sometimes you hear it'. Well, it ends with another great monologue about young people always dying but he just pretends to ignore this part now. There should be a law. Never put Evan Buckley in danger. Punishment is dead penalty. But Alan is, technically, a psycho, so he doesn't care about any laws, especially if they are existing only in Eddie's head. From the outside it should look heroically. Eddie sure hopes so, otherwise it'll be just stupid to go towards armed guy who keeps his finger on the trigger. Or run towards him. And not that Eddie has a plan. It would be much better if he has a plan not only rage.

At least he heard his bullet. It was hard to miss on such short distance. So he definitely heard it. And Buck's gasp - he also heard that. Looks like Buck doesn't think it was heroic at all. Apparently, Buck catches him before even pain catches him. But pain is much more aggressive. 'Eddie!' Do not scare him, Eddie, you promised your cap you'll keep an eye on Buck 'I'm fine... small calibre, Hen fixes me in a moment' Alan looks at them with crooked smile. Well, what else could you expect from schizophrenic. But then he talks and makes everything just ... complicated. Okay, he is also ex-military. He knows Eddie is lying now. Of course he knows, if Eddie spent his serving time mostly helping people, he was a medic - Alan spent it in a killing spree. Direct shot to the chest from so little distance - not the best way to live your life long enough. But instead of any unnecessary details or revealing of Eddie's lies he speaks with no visible emotions 'I didn't want this. Any of this. And you better run' Buck opens his mouth for really untimely question, Eddie feels it with the back of his head. But he just doesn't have time to actually ask. It's still a small calibre, yes, but this guy, apart of his schizophrenia is... was still a professional. His next shot is aimed perfectly - to color school walls with a pool of blood. He said run...

[noonemonitorsmyscreentime]

Ungodly

Because I, again, lost my goddamn mind I decided to write the fight from S15, ep19 from Chuck’s perspective, sort of. Like it’s from Chuck’s perspective but in the third person because that makes sense somehow. It’s like real short. And obvs fan fiction, but like commentary, maybe, idk. Anywaaay... enjoy?

“You can’t defeat GOD!” thought Chuck as he kept punching and kicking Sam and Dean. He was finally going to make them show him the respect he deserves. How dared two little insignificant humans mess with his story? They were his toys to do as he saw fit. He kept trying to fix them and yet they were constantly broken. At what point do you give up on trying to make them work? 

Chuck couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw those two Winchester bastards rising up after each blow. The constant defiance had lost its cuteness a while back. What would it take to finally beat them?

They could barely stand and had to use each other for support. Together they couldn't make for a whole man and yet, they still chose to try and be two. It really wasn't a fair fight. "Why are you smiling?”

“Because, you lose.” Sam Winchester’s bloodied face was defiant. Maybe he had punched the sense out of the younger brother. Lucifer would have been disappointed to find out that the one who finally broke Sam Winchester had been his pops. But Sam wasn't looking at him. His gaze was fixated on something behind him.

Ha!

Jack. Poor kid was going to see his adoptive dads being beaten to death before he, himself… well, not meet his maker-- before he, himself, would be silenced for good. And with the brothers gone, it would also stick.

What was that silly little child going to do? There was no angel daddy to trade his life for him, his actual daddy, the supposedly new favorite son was soundly sleeping in the empty and his two mommies were in Heaven. This kid did not have a great track record with keeping parents alive. He killed all his moms and all his dads died for him. In any case they will soon. Chuck supposed that the Winchesters could wait a while longer for the next punch. “Hey, Jack.”

He slowly closed the gap between them. The kid was just staring at him. This was too easy. How much fighting had they done and how much pain had they suffered to bring the boy back, and he was just standing in front of him, not even a weapon in hand?

The kid was a great story beat and Lucifer really threw him a curveball by becoming a father. Jack had outlived his narrative expectation to a greater extent than Chuck would have thought possible. He had to admit that his grandson was, as late story additions go, a good one in spite of his cliched beginnings. But how many kids with abusive fathers and dead mothers can you have before it all gets too tedious? He was so innocent, so pained, so tortured and so, so very and thoroughly annoying.

Chuck snapped his fingers expecting the boy to dissolve in a delightfully fine mist of pink. After all, how many times did he need to get rid of the kid to finally make it stick?

 Nothing happened. Jack was still in front of him, mirroring his look of disbelief. He'd give him that just like all the men in his life, he was hard to get rid of. Chuck snapped his fingers once more. Again. Nothing. Jack was still in front of him, but he could see that something was changing in the child. He took a step closer to god.

Snap. Nothing. Step. Snap. Nothing. Step. Snap. Nothing. Step. Snap. Nothing. Step. Snap. Nothing. Step. Snap. Nothing. No more steps left.

The boy put his hands on each side of Chuck’s face while his eyes glowed and the veins in his body became illuminated with a powerful gold light. Chuck had known this feeling before; this incredible river of power leaving him was the power needed for the Creation. But, it was at the same time different; he was not merely being drained of power, he was losing it, never to be replenished again.

It was agony. It was his hell. It was never ending.

When the last flicker of power was consumed Chuck fell to the ground trying to catch his breath. He had never felt so weak. He had never been this weak. He would always be this weak.

He heard a snap and prepared to be disintegrated. Instead he saw Sam and Dean healed.

Sam picked up his book that now lay open on the ground. “What… What did you do?”

Dean Winchester looked at him from above, his face half illuminated by the warm sun, each feature of this perfectly crafted weapon was sculpted and majestic “We won.”

“So this is how it ends. My book.”

By the time he finished his words Sam had arrived near him, book open in hand. “See for yourself” he said as he threw it in front of him.

The pages were blank. There were no words. “There’s nothing there.”

“Oh, there is, but only Death can read it.” Cold chills moved up and down Chuck's body at the younger brother's words. They hadn't known how to beat him. He knew that it was time for the victory monologue. He needed an explanation. And, boy, did the brothers deliver one

!“That’s right. So we had to come up with a plan B. That wasn’t too hard though when we realized that Michael really is a daddy’s boy. See, he didn’t take it too well when he found out that you asked Lucifer for help. Oh, he was desperate to be the favorite again.” Dean stated in a cold voice, some disdain directed to Michael. It was natural after all, one iteration took his body for a joyride of murder, mayhem and world domination and the other tricked and used Adam to bring about the end of times. 

“Since we couldn’t read the book we had to come up with a story about finding the spell, which we knew Michael would feed straight to you” Sam continued. “All that prep work we did to turn Jack into a cosmic bomb? Well, it turned him into a… a sort of power vacuum. He’s been sucking up bits of power all over the place. So, when the two heavyweights -- your boys-- showed up to duke it out, oh-hoh! That charged him right up.” Oh, if only his children had managed to work together all of this could have been so different. With Michael and Lucifer by his side Sam and Dean would have never won.

“See, we knew Michael would warn you and you’d show up here. And you did. And you killed your own son.” This was the fatal mistake, Michael should have been punished last. John Winchester had it right, kill the spirit, not the body.

“And you beat the crap out of us. Releasing all kinds of power. God power.” “Jack absorbed it all. It made him...”“Well, it made him unstoppable.” Dean finished the explanation.

Chuck can’t help but laugh. “This… This.. This is why you are my favorites.”

Sam, Dean and Jack look at each other wondering if Chuck understood anything of what he had been told or if his mind had gone alongside his powers.

“You know, for the first time I have no idea what happens next. Is this where you kill me?”

It’s easy to see on Sam’s face that it's a tempting idea and one that had been given some thought. He looks at Dean, on whose face only disgust is shown. “I mean, I could never think of an ending where I lose. But, this, after, everything that I’ve done to you… to die at the hands of Sam Winchester… of Dean Winchester, the ultimate killer...” 

Both brothers got a long look from the former god when he said their names. In turn they exchanged a glance, cold fury shone in Dean’s eyes, while Sam’s bore a much somber look of sad pensiveness. A quiet conversation was taking place. Sam would follow Dean’s lead, who now held Chuck’s fate in his hands, in what, the former Supernatural writer, felt was an ironic twist.

Chuck laughed in a last attempt to taunt the boys, to make them dance to his music “It’s kind of glorious.” He knew how to push their buttons, he’d done it for so many years. They were as close to a perfect creation as he had ever come. “Sorry, Chuck.” was Dean’s verdict, who moved right along to sentencing.

Chuck cowered in fear. Dean had no weapon in his hand, no magic gun or special knife. No stakes or arrows or even grenades. Death had to come by hand. But it didn’t. “What? What?”

“See, that’s not who I am. That’s not who we are.” They are free of him. Killing is not the only option anymore.

“What kind of an ending is this?” The last sliver of control that Chuck had over his precious Winchesters faded away.

They are his creation! They are not his favorite when they act in unexpected ways that don’t benefit him. Or his story. A little death, then straight to Heaven for some peace and quiet and relaxation. He deserved it. He only knows how much.

“His power. You sure it won’t come back?” Sam asked the kid. “It’s not his power anymore.” Jack replied truthfully. 

Sam gives a short half smile to this. What Jack said is good. “Then, I think it’s the ending where you’re just like us and like all the other humans you forgot about.”

“It’s the ending where you grow old, you get sick and you just die” despite Dean’s mercy, it was clear that it would have given him great pleasure to make Chuck feel a fragment of what the men in front of him had endured for his amusement, but he took content in knowing that Chuck’s own creation would do the job for him. The world would save Dean from killing after all the killing Dean had done for its sake. 

“And no one cares. And no one remembers you. You’re just forgotten.” The final blow delivered with steel precision right in Chuck’s, now human, heart had been made by Sam.

The trio moves towards the Impala leaving him in dust. “Guys… Guys.. wait.”

The engine revs and they drive away to the sound of Chuck’s begging “Guys… Guys! No, wait… G-guys… Guys, wait! Guys, wait! Guys, wait! Wait! Wait! Wait! Please, wait! Guys!”

Chuck falls into the dust sobbing.

He has no one. He’s all alone.

“

[knightofameris]

hidden mist — clint barton

Setting: AU (mix of MCU and 616 comics, clint has no family, he’s a mess, and kate’s a thing along with lucky) Gender: Neutral Contains: slight body horror (like Red Skull peeling off his mask), fighting, curse words, not necessarily fluff? but kinda at the end? more so action-y Word Count: 2.2k Prompt: “I’ve never known more about what isn’t going on in a situation” for @\amandarosemire‘s 500 follower writing challenge! Sorry it took me so long but I finally grinded it out kshlksg [this is a repost to a new account, sorry amanda!]

Summary: Everything’s a little confusing when your boyfriend finds out you’re in the middle of a cold war of sorts. Especially when you’re a highly trained agent. But at this point, nothing’s surprising to him or to Kate.

a/n: i love clint and the mcu did him dirty. Be sure to check out amandarosemire’s writings! She’s amazing at writing and I’m always so taken aback when reading her works. [reblogging from old blog]

Let me know if there are any mistakes, regarding the gender of reader, grammar, spelling, or with the story. c:

Enjoy! 

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

❝ who do you choose to stand beside you in times of crisis? who would you trust? ❞

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

If someone were to ask you which other Avenger you would want to be beside you while the building you were stuck in was burning down with people pointing guns at you, the last person they’d expect you to answer with would probably be Hawkeye.

You see, if you had Iron Man with you, he could easily just fly you out after using his targeting system to take out the enemies. Captain America could just throw his shield at the enemies and then carry you out the safest way possible. Thor could summon some lightning, take them out, and then again, you’d be flown out of the building. Natasha’s clever, you probably wouldn’t even end up in this situation if she was with you.

But you were and the building was on fire and guess who you were stuck with?

Hawkeye.

Well, both Hawkeyes, but only one of them is really the Avenger here. Or well, Kate is an Avenger-in-training. But that’s not the point I’m trying to make. The point is, you, Clint, and Kate, were all royally fucked.

Their bows laid at their feet, their arrows scattered about. You? The gun you held was pointed at the man you were supposed to be protecting—Mason Wu.

“Mirage,” Mason licked his lips, “I thought your job was to protect me?”

“Mirage,” Clint deadpanned. “Babe, you’re Mirage?”

“Now’s not the time Clint!” You muttered through gritted teeth just loud enough for him to hear. “You weren’t even supposed to be here!”

“Ugh, ‘babe’?” Kate groaned. “How did you even get into a stable relationship?” You shot her a look.

“You’re not supposed to be here either, Katie.” The glare from your eyes caused Kate to shut her mouth, not even wanting to correct you into calling her Kate. She gulped and you saw a bead of sweat fall down the side of her head, but you knew it wasn’t from the nerves.

You felt the temperature rise and with it you readjusted your grip on your gun, your clammy hands feeling uncomfortable.

“What’s going on, Wu?” You demanded. You eyed him carefully as he seemed unaffected by the flames. Rather, he seemed at peace, almost delighted, to see you working up a sweat. He grinned and with a wave of his arm, water seemingly came out of thin air and killed the fire. Wu then clenched his fist, all the water dropping to the ground and then dissipating into thin air.  Then a stream of water flowed up his arm and under his suit.

You, Clint, and Kate watched in mute horror when water started coming out of his eyes, nose, and mouth only for what seemed to be his skin to come off. As if it was in slow motion, he peeled off his skin. You furrowed your brows, your mouth turning downward in disgust. Clint letting out an ‘ugh’ noise and Kate gagged.

A light blue crystalized humanoid was underneath with what looked to be water inside of him. Whatever face he had, you knew he was smirking.

“I’ve never known more about what isn’t going on in a situation,” Clint whispered. Kate slapped his hand with hers. You sighed, hanging your head down.

*** [E A R L I E R  T H A T  E V E N I N G] ***

“I just have to attend the charity event that Roxxon’s holding, I’ll be back before you know it.” You leaned down and kissed Clint on the cheek and he frowned for a quick moment, putting his arrow down on his lap. You pulled away just fast enough to see the frown etched on his face and you tilted your head. “What’s wrong?”

“Roxxon?” Clint asked, turning to look at you.

You sighed, “Yes, I know they have had their fair share of misdoings with the Avengers, but I’ll be safe.”

“No, uh-” Clint furrowed his brows. You stared at him, waiting for him to finish his reply.

“What?” You asked. You let a small smirk make its way onto your face, knowing that he had a mission that night at the same charity event. You weren’t too worried though, even with your boyfriend as an Avenger you were able to keep him away from your other life. Something you decided personally. You just wanted to get a taste of a normal life.

As normal can be, living with Clint and sometimes Kate.

He shook his head, “Nothing, nevermind.” Clint picked up his arrow again, attaching on a new gadget at the end.

“Alright,” you replied, adjusting the cuffs on your suit. You headed out of your shared apartment. “Make sure to feed Lucky, and tell Kate to clean up her PI work off the counter, it’s a mess.”

You closed the door behind you and glanced down at your watch. With a sigh you began to head towards the elevator and over to the charity ball, hoping the mission would be a breeze.

After all, it was just protecting a guy from any possible assassins. How hard could it be?

*** [P R E S E N T  T I M E] ***

It was very hard, if the man you were protecting is out to get you. At this point, everything that you felt you needed to do was for self-preservation and to keep Clint and Kate safe and alive. Whatever the mission was before is now called off and something you’d have to talk to Fury about yourself.

But you know, even if you were asked which Avenger you’d want to have beside you in a burning building with guns pointed at you before this entire situation, you’d probably say Hawkeye.

Wu began to walk around you, Clint, and Kate; his hands clasped behind his back.

“It’s simple, really,” he grinned. “All I really want is you (Y/n) (L/n).” Your face remained stoic, watching him circle you. You wish you could just take him out there and then but with all the guns pointed at you and you didn’t even know how vulnerable he is, you didn’t know what to do.

Unbeknownst to you, Clint already had a plan in mind.

He clasped his hands behind his head and sighed, “Look, the whole villain monologue thing gets really old. Why do all villains like to listen to themselves talk?” Clint patted Kate’s arm. She glared at the older man and Mason Wu’s grunts jolted, their fingers lightly placed on the trigger. “Look-” Clint bent down and began picking up his arrows after pushing his bow off to the side “-I just want to pick up my arrows because they’re perfectly good arrows so you can go ahead and monologue and—DUCK!”

A white smoke screen appeared after Clint jammed one of his arrows down on the ground. Clint tackled into you, causing your breath to escape your lungs. Mason Wu’s grunts already began to open fire, shooting each other instead since they were all in a circle.

Kate kicked over Clint’s bow towards him while scrambling to grab her own. You looked up at Clint, who laid on top of you while the guns were still going off.

“You’re gonna have to explain every—”

“Later! Let’s move!” You shouted, shoving him off. You began crawling towards cover, with Clint and Kate trailing from behind.

The smoke began to dissipate and by this time the three of you were already hidden away.

Mason growled, looking left and white, his suit tattered and ripped apart. “Idiots, they’re all idiots!” He glanced down at his subordinates who were either dead or groaning and about to die. He sighed, closed his eyes, and let out a huff. “Guess I’ll have to do this my own way.”

A wave of water shot out towards you. Your eyes widened as you jumped over the mostly destroyed bar and began running, water lapping at your legs. You turned your head and tried to shoot him but the bullets ricocheted off of him instead.

You cursed under your breath and for once in your life, you were unsure of how to get out of this mess.

Clint watched as you ran, somehow avoiding the water. Kate whispered at him from behind a different table, a few feet away.

“Try electrocuting him,” Kate whispered. “Water types are weak against electric types, right?”

Clint scrunched up his face at her. “What?”

“Like in Pokemon!”

He grumbled, examining his quiver at the tip of each of the arrows.

“Clint, hurry up!” Kate exclaimed, her eyes wide-eyed, looking back and forth from where you were running, and quickly running out of endurance and already being taken by the water, then back to her mentor. A small glint caught her eye. Thinking fast, and seeing how Clint was still mumbling to himself while trying to find the right arrow, she dove out of cover with her bow and grabbed the electric-arrow.

“Grab them, Clint!”

Clint’s head jolted to where Kate was, out of cover. He saw you in a very compromising position in a water bubble, way above the ground. Wu grumbled, his piercing eyes (eye sockets?), moving towards Kate.

Kate’s arm was pulled back, and Clint sprinted towards you. You, who was too focused on not drowning.

You watched him with fear in your eyes. The water already surrounded your entire body and you didn’t know how much longer you can last without air. He grabbed an arrow and pulled his arm back. At first, aiming towards you then to the part that linked the water bubble to Wu. He shot at it and immediately the water link froze over.

Kate let go of her arrow. Wu screamed in pain, as his entire water body began to get electrocuted.

You screamed as you went into free fall. Clint quickly jumped up on tables and then a shelf, launching himself towards you and grabbing you. He wrapped his arms around you as you both fell and he turned himself to take the brute of the impact on the ground.

By this time, Kate had frozen Wu in a bunch of frozen arrows and trudged her way over to the two of you.

You groaned and rolled off of Clint. You turned to face him who held his chest and his face was scrunched up in pain.

“God, that’s going to leave a bunch of bruises,” he groaned, slowly sitting up.

You laughed, “I’m glad you’re okay, thank you, by the way.”

“It was a good thing we were placed on this mission then,” Kate said. “Otherwise you’d be dead.”

Your eyes narrowed at her, “I would have been fine. I had a plan.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Clint rubbed the back of his head, groaning again as he felt a jolt of pain shoot through him. You turned to glare at him but your eyes softened as you saw the amount of injuries littered across his face and body.

“You never found out about me being Mirage.” You smirked, placing a hand on his shoulder then running it up to his neck, your thumb stroking his cheek. His eyes met yours.

“Yeah, well,” he leaned into your touch, using his hand to hold onto you, “isn’t that sort of your thing? Mirage? Looking like different people?”

“Usually, yeah. But—” you frowned, really taking in the amount of injuries on his face “—Is this how you’re always riddled with bandaids?” Your eyes bounced back and forth between Kate and Clint. “Why-how? I go on as many missions as you guys.” The two archers exchanged glances then shrugged. You sighed, shaking your head.

Sirens began in the distance and a SHIELD helicarrier from above shone a light on the burnt down building. The three of you glanced up. You hung your head then went to stand up. Your stuck your hand out to Clint and he graciously took it. His weight was significantly more than you expected and you stumbled into him as he stood up.

He smirked, looking down at you. “You know, you can always kiss me better.”

You rolled your eyes and Kate groaned, hitting her forehead with her hand. “Are you in high school still? Why are you flirting like a high schooler?”

“What?” Clint arched a brow. “Oh, come on, they always work on you.” You looked down at his chest, biting the bottom of your lip. You placed your hands on his chest, slowly snaking them around the back of his neck and his hands rested on your hips, pulling you in closer.

Both of you ignored Kate pretending to throw up on the side.

“Do they?” You tilted your head with a smirk, looking up at him.

“Usually.”

And this was one of the times his flirting did work.

He leaned into you, his lips on yours. You closed your eyes, pulling him ever so closer into you. His lips were rough and you could swear it was cracked from the earlier fighting but you knew he didn’t really care. Especially when your tongue darted out over his lips for a second. When it came to you, he’d throw out his well being as long as you were safe. Of course, it applied for you, too.

For any mission of yours in the future, for any catastrophic event, if you were stuck in a burning building with guns pointed at you again, you’d want Hawkeye to be the one standing next to you. Clint, specifically, as much as you loved Katie.

But you know, even if you were asked which Avenger you’d want to have beside you in a burning building with guns pointed at you before this entire situation, you’d probably say Clint Barton.

a/n: i love clint and kate and i tried doing my own type of characterization between the comics and then the possible better version of the mcu. i don���t think this is my best version i’ve written of clint compared to my other works but i had fun! i tried grinding this out and i had a lot of struggles writing for him. but i did it !! love this dumb bird boy

don’t forget to like, reblog, or leave a reply !!! it means the world to me, seriously. it does. so much.

[shirtlesssammy]

15x12: Galaxy Brain

Welcome back to the new recaps! We’ll be doing recaps on Thursdays now that the show airs on Mondays. 

Then:

Remember when death was welcome and we had no hope?

Now:

Four Weeks Ago:

Earth 2

At an unassuming Radio Shed, a woman casually strolls around getting creeped on by the store clerk. He’s just an eager salesman, but dude…(Also, I’m a bad fan and had to Shazam the song playing. I thought it was quite on the nose with the whole “I had a dream that I ate your heart” considering Jack’s recent activities. It turns out to be Louden Swain, and all you real fans must have been dying laughing at how perfectly placed the song was.) 

The dude is despondent when the woman leaves, but then a new customer arrives, eyeing up the wall of televisions. It’s Chuck. The guy gives his best spiel, but Chuck isn’t interested. “It’s monologue time,” he states.

Chuck explains his twisted life story. 

And shows us the world:

Anybody else wish we would have had a glimpse of Squirrel World in these television sets? Well, Chuck waxes poetic about all the worlds he’s created and how none of them bring him as much happiness as the world with the real Sam and Dean. “They challenge me. They disappoint me. They surprise me. They’re the ones.” Chuck then decides that it’s time to clear the board and get rid of everything but the world with the real Sam and Dean (WEEPS OVER THE “FAILED SPIN-OFFS” LINE. BOBO WE’RE SO SORRY.) 

Sioux Falls.

Our World.

Now.

We find Jody Mills having too much fun investigating the death of a cow. She gets a call from Alex and we learn that life keeps humming along for our Wayward women.

Once off the phone, Jody sees a flash of motion from a barn and heads to check it out. Someone attacks her from behind. JODY! 

At the bunker, Sam, Dean, and Cas discuss what to do about Jack and his deal with Death. Sam’s concerned because Jack doesn’t have his soul still. We cut to Jack looking at the carvings of DW, SW, AND MW. He lightly grazes the MW. We know exactly where his soulless mind is. 

He heads to his bedroom and he’s surprised when a reaper appears. 

Sam continues to question the plan of Billie’s that Jack will kill God. Cas fully trusts his little nephilim son. Dean’s spent some time with Death and thinks she has it figured out. 

The reaper tries to reassure Jack that Billie’s plan will work as long as he follows the rules --lay low, wait for instructions, don’t use his powers. They need to keep Chuck out of the loop. 

Sam interrupts the conversation and Jack lies about who he was talking to. Sam tries reassuring Jack that they’re very happy to have him home and that they will help him.  

Meanwhile, recently reunited husbands share a celebratory drink now that they’re family is back together. Cas can’t help but gloat over how right he was and celebrate his faith in Jack. Dean wants to celebrate getting revenge. I want to celebrate these two yahoos talking again! 

Dean gets a call from Jody. She’s in trouble. 

Sam and Dean head out and find Jody tied up in the barn. Dark Kaia attacks! She’s seriously badass, but no competition for the Winchesters + one Mills. She wants her spear back --and more to the point, she wants to go home. Sam wants to know why she even wants to go back to that place. She tells them the world is dying. She knows this because she still has a connection to our Kaia. YEP. Kaia is STILL ALIVE PEOPLE. Dark Kaia left her the tools to stay alive, and she has, but Dark Kaia wants to go back. And now the others want to save Kaia. 

At the bunker, Cas and Jack bond over a fun game of Connect Four. 

Sam, Dean, and Jody arrive back at the bunker --with Dark Kaia in tow.

*JODY AND CAS FINALLY MEET ALERT*

They all agree that Jack can’t use his powers to help Dark Kaia get home, but they have to save their Kaia another way. 

While they figure that out, they chain Dark Kaia to the kitchen table and give her a magazine to read. 

Jack thinks he’s found a great spell but John Winchester had to ruin everything and kill off one of the necessary ingredients. How that man is able to ruin things this far in the grave will never cease to amaze me. Dean sends Jack to check in on Jody and Cas. 

Jody and Cas discuss their almost daughter, Claire, and her quest for revenge. Jody tells Cas that Claire loved Kaia, and Jody doesn’t want to tell Claire about this recent development. It would be too much for her to bear if things don’t work out. 


Jack morosely peeks in on the stalled progress of Jody and Cas, then stops to talk to Alt!Kaia. She’s angry, accusing him of encouraging Kaia to make the jump to the other world. It’s his fault that Kaia is in pain and about to die. 

Alt!Kaia wanted to visit Earth Prime because it looked comfortable, but she finds it cold instead and hard to live in. She begs Jack for help in a way that makes you think she’s never begged for a thing in her entire life before. Jack dreamwalks with her and confirms that Kaia is trapped in the Bad Place and an all-swallowing storm is coming for her. 

Jack heads into the library, advertising his intent to the Winchesters that he’ll save Kaia from the Bad Place. Merle, the reaper from earlier, appears. She is…ENTIRELY unimpressed by this plan. Saving Kaia is “Winchester dumb,” Merle insists. 

If Jack tries to save Kaia, Merle is totally running off and tattling on him to Death. Jack reads the room and calls her bluff. “Go,” he tells her. He’ll open a rift with his magic and Merle can just DEAL with Billie’s wrath when she comes running. Merle’s not so hot on that prospect, instead reluctantly coughing up a plan B. The cosmic warding Amara removed from the bunkers is the key!

But FIRST our patron saint of long suffering salt, Merle, insults the Winchesters’ rune repair work. The Winchesters re-warded their walls against demons and monsters, but didn’t come close to the “cosmic grade stuff.” 

She can rattle up the warding temporarily to block Chuck’s perception, but she’ll need to add a little battery power to the attempt. She demands the use of “your angel” to properly run the spell.

Sam, our very best witch, recites the spell. Runes glow along the bunker walls and edges as the shielding spell takes hold. 

Heading out, the Winchesters agree that the plan is reckless, stupid…and it FEELS REALLY GOOD. They’re back to their roots, baby! Give me my dumb, poorly planned, big hearted missions any day.

Cas corners Jody, asking her to stay behind as well. He never bonded with Claire - and couldn’t given their history - but Jody did. He doesn’t want to picture a world where Claire loses both Kaia and Jody. The truth settles over Jody like a thick wool blanket and she agrees to stay behind. 

For Soft Cas Science:

Cas and Merle supercharge the wardings. 

Once the wardings are active, Jack slings out a rift to the Bad Place. Alt!Kaia smiles at last and ducks inside, quickly followed by the Winchesters. The Bad Place is rainy and windy and full of red-eyed monsters LOOK OUT! 

Alt-Kaia realizes that the monsters are just scared of a roiling gray storm and they head off to find Kaia. Dean greets her with a “Hey, kid,” and a hug! KAIA IS SAVED! 

Alt-Kaia, however, decides to stay behind. The Bad Place is her home, its ending be damned. The Winchesters race off with Kaia and Alt!Kaia greet the oncoming nothingness with open arms. 

They make it back through the rift and Jody gives Kaia a great big MOM HUG. Kaia’s eyes slip closed. She’s safe at last. 

A little while later, Kaia has availed herself of the bunker’s excellent water pressure or possibly even that amazing bathtub. She’s now wearing Jack’s spare sweatpants. Bless. 

She tells Jack that she survived by anchoring herself around a children’s rhyme her mother sang to her: Miss Mary Mack. Jack attempts to grasp another tiny sliver of humanity. Good luck, Jack. Many of us work on that to this very day!

Jody invites Kaia to live with her. “Will Claire be there?” Kaia asks and it’s…REAL CUTE GUYS. Wayward Sisters lives on, even if it’s off screen. ALL THE HEARTS

Merle dumps a big soaked blanket over the celebration. “If I cared for a second about saving that girl, I guess I’d say that was a victory,” she says with a weary sigh. I love this GRIM reaper. Sadly, she’s not long for this world. Billie’s scythe jabs through Merle’s throat and tears her into little cosmic pieces. 

Billie CANNOT BELIEVE these Winchesters. “Bending the rules already, Jack.”

“I tried to call you,” Jack all but squeaks out. 

No excuse, bud. She’s not mad, she’s disappointed. Billie explains that she sees the big picture, even if nobody else does. All the worlds except this one are dying. 

“It’s Chuck,” Cas surmises, and Billie rewards him with a no-shit-sherlock look for the ages.

Sam demands answers. “When I became Death,” Billie says, “I inherited Death’s knowledge and Death’s library. And in Death’s library, everyone has a book. Even God.” The books write themselves, in a wonderful bit of LIFE HAPPENS. Billie explains. “After God made the world…he wanted more. But he needed to create a perfect harmony. A swiss watch so this world could keep tick tick ticking in his absence.” Chuck built himself into the framework of reality. The Winchesters and Jack are in Chuck’s book. “This is your destiny. You are the messengers of God’s destruction.” 

Back at Radio Shed, Chuck watches his worlds get torn to shreds by horrible weather events and war. The hapless Radio Shed employee Chuck chained to his service looks exhausted, worn to shreds from serving the capricious god. (Definitely no symbolism HERE, nope.) He’s confident that Chuck will spare his planet. Right? RIGHT? 

“Everything’s just fine,” Chuck reassures him before leaving the Radio Shed. As he strolls from the shop, he tosses his empty cup aside as meteors streak in to destroy the planet.

That’s Win-Quotester Dumb:

It’s monologue time

Sir, this is a Radio Shed

You’ve got four of the same color connected so…given the name of the game I assume that means you won

One little measly life on the line and you’re willing to risk it all? That’s not just dumb. That’s Winchester dumb

Disobeying cosmic entities…doing the dumb, right thing…feels like we’re back

How’s it feel to be back? [silence] Good talk

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[greenhatsinthesky]

lockdown film no. 27 - Us (2019) dir. Jordan Peele

20/04/2020

- as previously stated, I’m not a horror person. I don’t like jump scares or gratuitous violence. But this? Outstanding. It was one of the most genuinely, properly deeply scary films I’ve ever seen and while the imagery was scary and it did adhere to some of the tropes of horror films the scariest thing about it was the concept and how clever the plot was that made it so good 

- there was so much clever cinematography with the theme of mirroring (obviously all the mirrors, Jeremiah 11:11) which reminded me a bit of the themes in shadow of a doubt but obviously better because its Jordan peele and not hitchcock

- fuck me the colours were astonishing

- i loved the way we didn’t get everything all at once. Like when young Adelaide is in the mirror house and her tether is facing the other way, we were kind of drip fed that scene throughout the film as we learnt more stuff

- I LIKE THAT

- JANELLE MONÁE ON A FUCKING SOUNDTRACK WE LOVE TO SEE IT

- that song fits so well with the concept as well - of not being the same as everyone else and the lyric “i’m always left of centre” is political but it’s also being slightly off like being the tether of someone else and I fucking love it

- the girl who played young Adelaide/Red was incredible 

- i can’t get over how clever the little details are that reference Adelaide’s backstory like everything makes sense pretty much. Like how she ate strawberries instead of the chicken because as a kid she could only eat rabbits. And how she clicks on the offbeat for the song in the car but says to Jason “get in rhythm” because she doesn’t know she’s offbeat

- “It’s not about drugs, its a dope song, don’t do drugs”

- i got anxious every time someone appeared in front of a mirror

- wow the white children were awful

- he nailed the idleness of phatic talk especially with rich upper class white people. Also the subtle alcoholism of it being ‘vodka o’clock’ in the middle of the day and the comedic thing of straight white couples apparently hating each other

- “There’s a family in our driveway.” “No there’s not a family in our driveway.” *2 seconds later.* “Huh. Who’s that?”

- it’s such a simple idea but it works so well! It’s just a home invasion and the terrible anxiety that comes with the possibility of your family being hurt but it’s so fucking good !!

- the three clicks and they absolutely scattered. Terrifying 

- old timey scissors scare me now. Thanks pal 

- the first scene with the tethered family was outstanding. 

- can’t get over how good lupita nyong’o is?? Like who gave her the right and also she is so under appreciated l mean give this woman every award

- gabe’s character was so perfectly summed up when red did the whole monologue about the girl and her shadow and his response was to offer them money

- “You can have the boat for all I care.” “Nobody wants the boat, Dad.” Perfection

- the white family was absolutely peak yuppie and I really hated them so I wasn’t sad to see them go. I did not enjoy the bubbly sound Elisabeth moss was making as she died, however 

- while the bit with Elisabeth moss putting lip gloss on was very creepy, it felt a bit overdone and not quite as nuanced as lupita nyong’o’s performance. Full could not deal with her cutting her face open with scissor though

- it was extremely disturbing to see the whole family get a bit too into trying to kill the people who are hurting them. Obviously it’s important that they keep themselves alive and defeat the bad guys but the kids too? Also it must be so traumatic for the kids to see their parents really trying to kill people

- why does the yuppie child move like a vampire ???

- THE KILL COUNT WHAT THE FUCK

- i appreciated that the majority of the rabbits in the tunnels were white. I know its a bit niche but normally things that are meant to be scary are dark colours which kind of feeds into the insidious idea that dark things and therefore people who have dark skin are scary. In old films the good guy always rides a white horse and the bad guy is always on a black horse, for example, and ravens are a symbol of bad stuff while doves are a symbol of peace. Anyway I just liked the way that one of the main scary symbols is super bright white which goes against a lot of the general symbolism 

- im not generally a fan of ‘the speech at the end that explains everything’ and id rather things be revealed in a more organic way instead of us just being told, but this definitely isn’t the worst one I’ve seen 

- WEIRD FOCUS NO THANKS 

- the cinematography of the tunnel cut together with red and Adelaide dancing, yes please 

- i know its always pretty grim when a vicious death happens in a film but red’s death was absolutely dire. Like all you could hear was the sound of her and then Adelaide’s breathing. And then Adelaide starts laughing? That felt weird. Everyone seems to have a very a bubbly sound with their blood when they die in this which was scary as fuck

- i think the important thing to remember in this is that while there are characters who endanger the protagonists, they can’t really be seen as antagonists because they haven’t actively done anything wrong. I mean red did try to organise a revolution but that was because her life was stolen from her by her tether, who you can’t really blame because she has the right to want an actual life too. Basically no one and everyone is to blame in some sense because you can understand everyone’s motivation

- there was a lot of Kubrick gazing going on with young red/adelaide

- ive seen some speculation about Jason and Pluto and who’s who and if he knows about Adelaide being a tether (as opposed to a whole person?)

- the whole thing reminds me of the idea of soulmates and how plato theorised that two people who were meant to be together were built as one and then they were split apart and had to find each other. The idea of being half a person/being until you find the other person who makes you whole - in isolation they’re both their own entities but not completely 

[tricksterreformed-a]

@smmie​ sent : video- get wrecked sammy...... i mean- (Video - Our muses watch pornography together )  || accepting

(( ooc; ah, yes, the inevitable two man watch-party ))

          Gabriel could not, for the life of him, figure out how he’d pulled this one off. Sure there had been jokes.  Lots of them, mostly centering around kneeling not just being for prayer, and catching a glimpse of heaven.  Standard angelic pickup lines twisted just so to get a laugh.  But joking around in a diner was a far cry from sitting on a hotel room bed while the DVD player clicked on.   Or at least Sam was sitting, perched on the edge of the bed like he wasn’t quite ready to commit to whatever this was just yet and wanted an easy escape--stand, step, door, see you tomorrow during daylight hours where we can pretend this never almost happened.  But they were halfway through Gabriel’s opening monologue about how to put Lucifer back in the box (which was just part of it) and he hadn’t fled yet, so that was something.  Gabriel, on the other hand, was laying on his back with his feet towards the headboard, hands folded across his midsection with his head hanging over the foot of the bed slightly.  Watching the whole thing upside down.  

          As the monologue concluded (”so this is me standing up, and this is me laying down”) what followed was a relatively vanilla sex scene. A little spanking, a little oral, a position switch halfway through that had them land with the woman on top--her name had been Harriett and she’d been a real peach to work with.  The Gabriel on the screen finished with a grunt and then dutifully put his fake mustache back on as if that was somehow important. 

          And then it got weird.   Harriett launched into another speech in the same exaggerated sexy voice she’d used at the opening of the video, but now she was talking about all the other things Casa Erotica had to offer. Experiences humans couldn’t provide. 

          Sam shot him a look then, a ittle alarmed, filled with an unspoken question, and curious. It was that curiosity that caused Gabriel to smile, reach over to pat his thigh, and say: “Everyone in this is dead, except me.”  Which earned him a look that was all genuine confusion.   “So if you’re looking for a 101 course on anything that’s about to happen, I’m quite literally the only guy for the job.”  He topped his comment off with a wink and  a smile that (perhaps because he was at such an odd angle) had something sharp to it.   “I’ll let you know,” Sam replied, just a touch of sarcasm rounding out his words, but he was now leaning back instead of forward for the first time since they’d embarked on this endeavor.  Which was something. 

          (At the fifteen minute mark they got distracted from what was happening on the screen with talk of Fenrir and how Sam had done his part to kill some of the cultists who worshipped him.  Which then turned to a discussion on knotting and the pros and cons of atypical genetalia.)  

          At the thirty minute mark, Sam spoke up again, staring with furrowed brows first at the Gabriel on the screen, and then at the man next to him. “Okay, that is not a normal amount of tongue, and I’ve seen your tongue, it isn’t that.”  The hunter said, clearly trying to hide what Gabriel was sure was a very emotionally complicated erection, all the while shooting glances between the rim job happening on the screen and the archangel’s face next to him.   In response Gabriel stuck his (perfectly normal looking) tongue out at him and gave it a wiggle.  “I’d be pretty hard for me to talk as much as I do if I was carrying that around in my mouth all the time.”  He replied, and then went on: “I know this,” Gabriel gave his own nose a quick double tap, “Looks like your standard human vessel, but it’s not.  I had to blend in with a certain crowd when I went in to wittness protection.  You call them monsters.”  He hummed a little, contemplating his next move and the faint pink hue that had taken up residence in Sam’s cheeks.  “Want to see?”  

          He couldn’t tell whether the pause that followed was Sam taking time to think it over, or if the hunter had gotten distracted watching the moment when the rim job switched back over to a quick stretch of fingering.  But finally Gabriel got his answer. “Yeah, yeah okay.”  

          Gabriel did not so much move from where he was laying as he stopped being in one place and started being in another with an uncanny (inhuman) lack of transition.  It just so happened that the place he started being was straddled across Sam’s lap where he then proceeded to pat the hunter’s cheek and tell him: “If you want me to stop just say the word.” Before leaning in to press their mouths together with a hungry and insistant pressure.  Lips parted, tongues met, and still Gabriel pressed deeper, pushing Sam back and down onto the bed and grinding down against his erection as the tented pressure in his own pants grew.  An eager hand threaded fingers through Sam’s hair pulling just a little to tilt the hunter’s head back to give Gabriel better access to the spot just below his jaw where the archangel could feel his very human pulse.   His mouth--which before had been warm and welcoming--was now shockingly cold, earning him a gasp from the hunter as goosebumps rose and spread across his neck.   Gabriel sucked, bit, and kissed his way down leaving a trail of numb purple marks blooming in his wake.  Evidence to be covered up or put on full display later at Sam’s discression. 

          He slid the hand not tangled in the hunter’s hair under his shirt, up his stomach and chest leaving a warm trail of heat in it’s wake, a sharp contrast to the cold blue lips currently pulled back to reveal a smile filled with teeth that looked sharper than they had before, more akin to fangs. Monster teeth. Though he couldn’t say if it was the sensation or the sight that had the hunter choking back a moan.  One of Sam’s hands had already worked it’s way between his legs, palm pressed to the erection still contained in his pants, causing Gabriel to groan and decide that pants were--at this point--entirely unnecessary.  All it took was a thought and they were gone and finally he had that glorious contact of skin on skin.   If he had to guess he’d have said Sam was enjoying the sudden lack of fabric too, hips bucking up to meet the hand between them.  

          It was time to cut to the chase before anyone had time to consider the impact this might have on their working relationship.   In the background Casa Erotica was wrapping up with a space orgy featuring something with a lot of tentacles.   Gabriel moved Sam further up on the bed so he’d have room to work with a sudden heave that left the hunter breathless.   He didn’t have time to catch his breath before the hot press of breath hit and bypassed his cock to settle lower.  Again Gabriel manhandled him to get a better angle, fingers digging into his hips hard enough to bruise as he pressed his mouth and then tongue to Sam’s hole.  Gabriel hummed, a sound devised to carry motion in a way no normal human sound could. It vibrated up his spine and left the hunter moaning in earnest at that first slow press inwards. 

          One hand kept his grip on the human’s hips as the other slid slowly up to hold his cock, all the while his tongue vibrated with sound and motion as it pressed against his hole, darting in slightly and then swelling in that inhuman and uncanny way it had minutes ago on the screen.  The hand on Sam’s cock only gripped, steady and still leaving it to the hunter to decide between thrusting into it and pressing back down onto his tongue.  Gabriel dragged it on as the credits on the screen rolled, a list of the dead while he was here and so, so alive.  Finally the hum reached it’s peak and Sam was gasping and writhing and half begging for release in a voice Gabriel thought he could really get used to hearing.  He wasn’t sure if the hunter even noticed but at this point there was a hand holding his hips, a hand around his cock, and still another pressing a well slicked finger into him.  The finger was shortly joined by a second and the fast thrusts were paired with the motion of the hand around his cock until finally--finally--Sam came into his hand and left an oozing trail across his stomach. 

          Gabriel slowly slid his fingers out, enjoying the fluttering pulsing that tried to hold them in place, and took his own cock in hand to finish himself off.  A process that didn’t take long at all given the view. 

          “And that’s the 101 course.”  He said in a voice that was just this side of raw and breathless.   “If you’re looking for the 102 course we can discuss it later.  Maybe after a few more sessions.”  He winked at Sam, but it was a tired gesture with no heat behind it.   In response he received a grunt that may have been the first half of a groan. “Could you clean up?”  The hunter asked him, eyes already half shut. “I feel like jelly.”  

          “Only if you’ll let me stay the night, I didn’t exactly rent a room and it seems like such a shame to leave,”  Gabriel replied with a smile and a snap that removed the stickier evidence of what had happened between them.  “Fine,”  Sam acquiesed, rolling over onto his side. “And I like to be the big spoon,”  the archangel informed him, to which he received another grumbling sound that Gabriel decided had to mean ‘that’s perfect because I like to be the little spoon’.

[heizerux]

Battle of the Miraculous (Love Eater and Miracle Queen) Analysis (Few Translations included)

“Some people may have their problems, but at the end everything will be okay.”

—Marinette Dupain-Cheng (Miracle Queen Monologue)

(Disclaimer: Budgets and animation production play a huge part in how episodes are made and released . . . but this time it was straight up the network’s choice and a bad one :| Also I’m fully aware Chat Blanc and Felix may answer a few extra things, but for now I’ll just talk about what I’ve seen.)

I’ll be going over the finale in the Topics: 

Hesitations

Relationships

Beginning of the End

The Future? (Season 4 Talk)

I rewatched the episode with subs I could fully read and understand so I’m ready to talk about it now. Let's go. . .

FYI: I’m gonna be mainly dissecting Miracle Queen because A LOT happened here that I HAVE TO let out.

Hesitations

In Heart Hunter/ Love Eater we got a good consensus of how every character is doing. To summarize, we know Luka has deeply fallen for Marinette and constantly thinks about the song that is her. Kagami is much closer to Adrien and is open about her feelings to him. Luka and Kagami are also now officially good friends with their supposed love rival. Really everyone is getting along PERFECTLY. . . . But then Kagami and Adrien get much closer and all Marinette can do is just let the one she loves go. 

In Miracle Queen, Marinette cries to Luka and admits in her monologue that nothing is going and if anything things are painful. . . but that it’s nice to have someone that’s there for her when she need it. . .  this someone being Luka. Before the bees attack, Marinette makes a move to move on by wanting to hear his finalized song, but Luka questions an important question:

“You’re still thinking about Adrien?”

Meanwhile, Adrien breaks away from the kiss with an “Oh! Uh, it’s my first time, I’m not ready!” excuse even though it’s clear he’s unsure about advancing things with Kagami. But then her version of the important question is:

“But when will you be ready, Adrien? . .  Your hesitation hurts.”

*queue the bees* So as of this point, Adrien and Marinette have finally faced their actual obstacle in terms of romance: Their HESITATIONS.

This entire season, we’ve had instances in which Adrienette has had the thought of wanting to be something more (either through a crush or Plagg’s perseuations), but there was always the thought of “But there’s Luka/Kagami. . .” Ikari Gozen shed this for Marinette, Stormy Weather 2.0 shed this for Adrien. . .

Anyways Chloe calls forward people who have held a miraculous and exposes them (both in identity and diss lol) btw she did say Luka looked “kinda cute”

Ladybug and Chat Noir find each other confused as to how things went south so fast and Chat just asks “What did Fu tell you?”, to which Ladybug basically answers “Nothing” and has break down admitting she accidentally lead Hawkmoth to Fu.

Relationships

This moment right here. . . it's IMPORTANT. 

Chat sees Ladybug vulnerable and consoles her letting her know to focus on saving Fu and not to worry more on the rest mistakes. Ladybug thanks him and the two hug. . . but like ACTUALLY hug. 

I’m not talking someone hugging the other in attempt to save the other from harm, but an actual genuine friendly hug. Chat Noir isn’t being flirty or making advances, and Ladybug isn't annoyed or pushing Chat away. Their relationship as heroes is no longer just partners. . . but officially CLOSE FRIENDS.

Moving on, they kick ass, get the likely to be former wielders’ miraculous back and face off with Chloe. To summarize, she tells Ladybug that she’s the real enemy because she doesn’t trust her and goes on to equip all the miraculous. She tries to use them all but all the kwamis basically told her to go fuck herself in the form of “You don’t even know our commands.” 

Oh, but what’s this? ANOTHER advancement in the Ladynoir relationship. Ladybug turns to Chat all vulnerable once more, and he picks her back up. This is the first time in a WHILE (since Origins) that Ladybug had confided in Chat with her vulnerability and fears of failure TWICE in ONE day. Don’t forget about this for next season.

The Beginning of the End

After telling Ladybug that she now has all the keys and knowledge about the miraculous, Fu then decides its time. No not the grim kind of time, but the time to finally pass on the torch to Ladybug. He officially denounces his role as guardian, which renders all inactive miraculous useless. (I’m actually not certain but it IS what I noticed considering the active miraculous were still working but the inactive ones became empty jewelry shells as the kwamis got transferred into a brand new box for Ladybug. I’m sure S4 will have the answers here.) Hawkmoth is literally disappointed and leaves with a weaker Mayura.

Chloe angrily tells Ladybug she just wants to be Queen Bee and be the REAL MAIN HERO, to which Ladybug simply answers “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that, Chloe.” Chloe then throws a tantrum saying “FINE! I am not your fan anymore. I will go live with my mom because you don’t even deserve to breath the same air as ME.” and runs away.

Oh yeah, Chat lost Hawkmoth and Mayura :D. . . . *high five*

ANYWAYS, Ladybug and Chat Noir go to vibe check on Fu while Gabriel vibe checks Nathalie. One is alive and well and the other is alive and. . . yeah. 

KEEP IN MIND, NATHALIE NOW HAS ACQUIRED THE INFO SHE NEEDED FROM FU’S BELONGINGS TO REPAIR THE PEACOCK MIRACULOUS. DO NOT FORGET THIS FOR NEXT SEASON.

Back to Fu, he wakes up but. . . ya GUESSED IT (or didn't)  . . . lost his memory along with his duties as guardian and this marks the END of an era. . .

ML LORE: THE GUARDIAN RULE IS THAT YOU ERASE YOUR MEMORIES OF KNOWING ABOUT THE TRUE POWER OF THE MIRACULOUS ONCE YOU DENOUNCE YOUR ROLE IN ORDER TO PROTECT THE IDENTITY OF THE current? WIELDERS. EVEN THE USE “MIRACULOUS LADYBUG” DOES NOT UNDO THIS.

DEFINITELY DO NOT FORGET THIS MOVING FORWARD IN THE SERIES (but mainly if you really like lore or just want to use this as a fic tool :3)

Techincally, someone did die this episode, but it was the person we all once knew as Master Fu. Now it is just Wang Fu. He returns Ladybug’s “lost key” thinking she dropped it? and then marks the a new beginning. 

Chloe returns to expect her mom to be getting ready to leave, but finds her parents finally happy and in love. . . I’m actually really happy this happened. Chloe needs a loving home and if this helps her in anyways, ABOUT TIME. 

“As you start to get older, you start to understand that life doesn’t always give you what you thought it would. I wanted to tell you this in person, Marinette, but if you are reading this it is because I’ve already lost all my memories. Do not be afraid, you haven’t lost all of me completely. Like I told you in the beginning of the letter, losses are a part of life, but this isn’t important. The only thing that’s important is if you’ve won (?) or not. That is the key to be able to accept changes as they come on your own. To be able to accept everything as a whole even when you feel life hasn’t given you enough. The real gift, is life itself.” —Fu

no I’m not crying, you are

After retrieving Master Fu’s leftover gifts for Marinette, she takes him to see Marianne to their new home (assuming), to whom Wang Fu has met for the first time but is already fully in love with. Marinette gives them a final parting gift, to where his last words to her are:

“Thank you, young lady. I’ll never forget you.”

okay, okay, maybe a TINY tear has left my eye. . .

Now to our final scene of the season. Adrien and Marinette are closer friends and nothing is distant between the two, They’re even so comfortable small talk is like second nature to them . . . they’ve also both finally faced their own hesitations and decided to give the person in front of them a shot for and for all: Luka and Kagami.

“The real gift, is life itself.”

okay okay I’m SOBBING aghhhHHHHHHHH--

Oh and Gabriel seems to have repaired the peacock miraculous 👀

The Future (?)

Okay, so THAT’S how Season 3 ended. It feels bittersweet, I cried about it when I got home and watched it with real subtitles, but now lets talk about what we can expect to come in Season 4. It’s all guess and theories but I guess here’s mine:

Marinette now fully changed and matured with her new role as guardian, will probably be a lot more calmer with her approaches. The relationships will likely be that Lukanette and Adrigami will try to flourish further as both Adrien and Marinette decided to stop hesitating and going for what’s in front of them. . . but so will Ladynoir. 

I’m, for the time being, jumping ship on the theory that Ladybug will fall more in love with Chat, and Chat still being loyal to his lady will equally return the feelings as this happens further. . . but of course their civilian relationships will interfere. . . and idk about you guys but that department looks like it’s going to be interesting. 

I may add more later on, but I just needed to get all this out in one post for the finale. I’ll still watch Felix and Chat Blanc cause I’m in denial that yes, this was basically it already . . . But the wounds are still fresh in my soul for this show and it still hurts. . . 

. 

.

.

.

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So yeah . . . Lila Rossi who?

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Don’t know her. . . 

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and neither did Hawkmoth in that finale 👀 *sips tea*

[asterythm]

A is for Amour || As We Find The Pieces (10)

Pairings: Slow burn Logicality, eventual Prinxiety (also bonus Cartoon Therapy Corne for this chapter!!) Word Count: 4.9k Chapter Summary: Chapter ten seems like the perfect time to set some friendly matchmaking into motion, wouldn't you agree? (Patton certainly might, if he didn't have so much respect for the fourth wall.) Chapter Warnings: food, caps lock, alcoholism mention, neglectful parenting mention

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***

"Patton. Patton. Paaaaaattonnnnn...”

The owner of the name in question barely blinked in acknowledgement of the beckoning voice; eyes seemingly fixated on an invisible point on the air, the only indication that he was alive at all was the movement of his jaw as he chewed thoughtfully on a handful of pretzel sticks. 

“Patton? Hello? Foley!” 

Moments after the last word, a tiny, greasy object launched across the table to smear against the lens of Patton’s glasses, jolting the boy back to reality at long last. “Huh? What?” Patton looked around in confusion, first at the french fry in his lap, then across the table at Sloane, whose arm was already rearing back to throw another. “Hey!”

Sloane grinned, triumphant. “There he is. Welcome back to the land of the living, ya goof.” The second fry bounced uselessly off the side of Patton’s head.

“What was that for? I’m already listening!”

“Just making sure.”

Next to Patton, Valerie shovelled a spoonful of chocolate pudding into her mouth before giving Patton a big grin. “So what had you so distracted there, Mister Plato?” she teased, poking the plastic spoon in Patton’s direction.

“Oh, you know… just thinking,” was the vague reply, delivered offhandedly as he glanced at the empty spot beside Sloane. Contrary to his previous protest, he still seemed distracted. “Where did Corbin go?”

“Bathroom, I think. Or maybe he just got tired of waiting for you to tell us what you were thinking about,” said Valerie, tossing any semblance of subtlety out the window with a raise of her brows. There was an expectant lull in the conversation as the two friends waited for Patton to fill them in. When it became clear that he wasn’t about to, she turned to Sloane with a roll of her eyes. “Guess we have to figure this out on our own. Hmm, let’s see. What new factors have entered Patton’s life recently that could be distracting him this much?”

Sloane caught the meaningful lilt in his feisty friend’s voice without missing a beat. “Well, I can think of at least one thing. One person, to be precise.” He tapped his chin with another fry, pretending to think hard. “What was his name again?”

“Leonard? Liam? Maybe Luke? Something with an L. Cute tutor guy, right? The one with the swoopy hair and —”

“And dreamy eyes —”

“Okay, alright, fine! Enough!” broke in Patton, red as a tomato. “First of all, his name is Logan, okay? Which I know you know — Sloane, he’s in the same grade as you, for crying out loud!” 

Sloane, to his credit, at least had the decency to pretend to be sheepish, even if his best efforts couldn’t mask the impish gleam in his eye. The same could not be said of Valerie. “So you were thinking about him!” she said, triumphant. “Damn, I’m good.”

“Um, actually, no. For once.” The tips of his ears had begun reverting to their regular shade for a moment, but now the bright red glow returned, twice as strong as before. The words hanging on Patton’s lips couldn’t get out fast enough. “I mean, don’t get me wrong — I’ll be the first to admit that he does have just the cutest hair and eyes, and he’s super smart, which is obviously a plus, and it’s so adorable the way that he’s always adjusting his glasses and necktie as if they’re not already perfectly in line with the rest of his outfit — hey, speaking of, have you noticed how you never see him wear the same necktie twice? Where is he even getting those things from? D’you think he might have some kind of secret necktie stash or—?”

“Patton. Breathe.”

“Right, okay, sorry, I... yeah." Patton clamped his lips together as he sucked in a huge breath through his nose, grateful for the timely reminder. What were we talking about again?

“You’re still avoiding the question,” supplied Valerie. “Don’t think I didn’t notice. If it’s not thoughts of cute necktie tutor guy distracting you, then...?” 

“Oh! Well, I don’t think I’ve mentioned this to you guys yet, but there’s this one really nice guy who works at the library where Logan and I meet up for our sessions. His name is Virgil. Super sweet guy, really cool nails.”

“Aha!” Valerie leaned forward. “So Logan’s getting some competition now, is that it?”

Patton laughed freely at that. “Oh, no — ha! — no way. He’s, like, twenty years old; pretty much the same as Roman, probably. No, we’re just friends. At least,” he added, furrowing his brow, “I think we’re friends. He seems pretty shy, though, and we’ve only really talked twice, so maybe he doesn’t actually consider me a friend yet?”

“Acquaintances, then.”

“Sure. Close acquaintances. Anyway, we were having a pretty nice chat while I was waiting for my mom to come pick me up from my session yesterday. He kind of fell asleep halfway through, but —”

“Back up,” Sloane interrupted, “fell asleep?” At Patton’s nod: “Sheesh, man. I thought you said he was this ‘super sweet person’.” He made little air quotes with his fingers as he spoke. “Checking out mid-chat doesn’t exactly scream sweetness. You’re sure you’re not just too nice to realize his true colours or whatever?”

“Wait, wait, wait, don’t jump to conclusions yet. I was just about to get to that. See, the poor guy had an absolutely exhausting day yesterday. He told me all about it after his, uh, energy crash. Because I invited him to, not because he just decided on his own to go ahead and dump his worries on me,” Patton added as he saw Sloane readying another protest. “But, see, here’s the thing: I don’t think that the whole streak of bad luck was the only reason for Virgil’s stormy mood yesterday. I mean, maybe I’m just overthinking, but both times I’ve talked to him so far, he’s just had this kind of… permanent tiredness. Not as in I-want-to-take-a-nap tired. This feels way deeper than that. Almost hollow.

“You should see the way Virgil carries himself. His shoulders are always curled in, for one, like if he makes himself smaller, the empty whateverness inside of him will get smaller too. And he keeps his hands really close to his chest when he’s not typing or knitting or something, like he always needs to be ready to shield himself from someone trying to reach in and tear that hole any larger. And he never smiles without ducking his head a little, as if...”

Noticing for the first time since he’d begun his strange monologue how blank his friends’ faces had grown, Patton trailed off sheepishly. 

“You know what? Never mind,” he dismissed. “I didn’t mean for that to get so heavy. Sorry. Um, so yeah.” Patton shifted in his seat uncomfortably he continued while he turned to address Valerie, who was so lost that her eyes were fixed on a point above Patton’s head as she tried to understand.

“Patton, if I may…”

Oh, wait. So that’s what Valerie was staring at! Hearing the new voice join their conversation, Patton turned around with a delighted smile. “Corbin, you’re back!” he cheered, all thoughts of holes in chests disappearing to the back of his mind as he leapt to his feet to greet the new arrival.

“Oh my g— you’re just as bad as Sloane,” grumbled Corbin in response before sliding back into his spot next to his boyfriend. Contrary to the studious disinterest he’d been feigning at first, Corbin couldn’t resist giving Sloane a quick but affectionate smooch on the cheek. He waited until his arm was wrapped securely around his boyfriend’s shoulder before continuing, the sting of his words somewhat dampened by the way Sloane was already nestling into the crook of his arm, almost purring in contentment. “Seriously, do none of you have any chill? At all? I was gone for less than five minutes.” 

“Sure, but I missed you!” Patton said with a pout.

“Looks like you didn’t miss my pretzel sticks,” shot back Corbin, gesturing to the now-empty container in the middle of the table. “That was basically full when I left!”

“Sorry, Corbin,” chorused the three friends, not sounding sorry in the slightest. 

“Yeah, yeah, save it. Anyway,” continued Corbin, turning to Patton, “I couldn’t help but overhear your desperate plight.”

“He means he was eavesdropping.”

Corbin lifted an eyebrow at his boyfriend’s interruption. “It’s not eavesdropping if I would have been a part of the conversation in the first place anyway!”

“Mm, not how it works.”

“You shush or I’m taking this arm away.” Taking Sloane’s protesting whine as a sign of surrender, Corbin returned his attention to his cousin. “Patton, I totally get where you’re coming from. I think that this library guy just needs a friend.”

Patton’s forehead creased. “A friend? But I’ve already been trying to be his friend!”

“Yeah, but… look, obviously, it’s great that you’re already spending time with this guy —”

“Virgil.”

“— sure — spending time with Virgil after your sessions. Super thoughtful of you. But honestly, you know as well as I do that half an hour of small talk twice a week is hardly enough time to really get to know someone.” Corbin idly messed with Sloane’s hair as he spoke. “Not that I don’t think those half-hours are helping — I’m sure they are! I just… you said that he’s older than us, right?”

Still listening attentively, Patton nodded. “A few years.”

“Well, then, maybe you could try introducing him to someone else around the same age. Someone with a little more control over their own schedule than a high school student would have. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

“Uh… sure do.” Patton did not.

A fact which did not escape his cousin’s notice. Corbin exhaled. “Alright, here’s the thing. It’s not that I doubt your ability to befriend someone older than you. I know you, Patton, you could probably make friends with a rock if you put your mind to it. Actually, scratch that — you have made friends with a rock, haven’t you? Remember Percy and Pierre, your ‘twin’ pebbles from when you were in, what, grade two?”

In spite of himself, Patton laughed. He remembered, all right. “Pretty sure I might have paid more attention to the well-being of those rocks than I did to myself.”

“Okay, yeah, see? That’s my point exactly. You’re a really friendly, caring, all-around great guy — impossible not to like. But if I’ve learned anything from all those post-secondary preparation lectures they make you attend in twelfth grade, it’s that uni students’ schedules and high school ones don’t always mix; they might be busy in the mornings and evenings with classes and work, but have most of their afternoon open, or vice versa. It’s a mess.” Corbin shrugged. “Hey, if anyone could make a friendship thrive under those weird hours, it’s you. But I still think it might be a better idea to find someone who’s around the same age as this Virgil guy.”

While Patton thoughtfully processed his cousin’s suggestion, the table lapsed into comfortable silence for a spell. Across the table, Valerie finished the last of her chicken and rice. It was as she was screwing the lid back onto her thermos that a question appeared to hit her. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Valerie had to give voice to her curiosity: “Hey, Corbin, it seems like you really know what you’re talking about. If it’s alright to ask, why is that? Are you speaking from experience, or...?”

She trailed off as both she and Patton noticed the worried expression Sloane now wore. He shifted on the cafeteria bench to glance up at Corbin. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to,” he murmured.

“No, it’s fine.” Corbin punctuated his words with another bite of his apple, which he took his time chewing, carefully formulating his answer before swallowing to speak again: “When I first entered ninth grade — so, two years ago, you and Pat would’ve still been in seventh — I was... going through a bit of a rough patch. That was around the time my dad packed his stuff, and a few weeks later, my mother started to drink. A lot more than she should have, probably. 

“Patton, you might remember that we weren’t at the family reunion that Christmas. That’s because neither of us were in any shape to go to a party; things had gotten really messy at home, to the point where I was skipping school almost every day to make sure she didn’t — uh, to take care of her.” Corbin rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Long, long, long story short? First semester of high school was not a great time.”

Valerie blew out her cheeks. “That... sucks, Corbin. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well. Things got better.” Down came Corbin’s hand as he glanced at Sloane, whose head hadn’t moved from Corbin’s shoulder since he sat down. The moment his eyes fell on his boyfriend’s face, it was almost as if Patton could see his walls coming down, too. “And believe it or not, the improvement began in History class, of all possible places.”

“Our teacher’s seating plan put us next to each other.”

“I was trying to get some dramatic buildup going there, but… yeah, basically. My home situation was a little better by second semester, so I started coming to class more often. Sloane moved from Clivesdale right around the same time. As luck would have it, he wound up next to me for homeroom. The fresh transfer and the kid who never came to school. Probably the only thing we had in common besides a similar desk arrangement was the fact that neither of us had any friends, though not for lack of trying on Sloane’s part.”

“I baked cookies for everyone my second week there! Cookies, and no one besides Corbin even tried one!”

“Dang, so that’s how your whole love story began? Cookies?” quipped Valerie. “Those must’ve been some good baked goods.”

Corbin snorted. “No. I mean, yeah, they were good cookies, but it would have taken a tray a day to break through the angst-barriers shielding me from the rest of the world back then. No, it was that dumb A Moment in Time project. You know, the one where you and a partner have to prepare a full-length presentation to ‘transform the classroom’ and ‘take your peers back’ to a decade they assign you?”

Patton nodded. He remembered it well. 

“Man, I have no idea where they come up with this stuff. Anyway, the point is, being the only ones in the class who had no pre-established connections with any other classmates, the two of us were kind of forced to partner up through process of elimination.” The last of Corbin’s apple slices gone, he paused to slide the container back into his lunchbox. 

Sloane picked up the narrative where he’d left off: “I ended up inviting Corbin over to my house, I think about two days before the deadline? I told him it was to put some finishing touches on our Swing in the Roaring Twenties poster, but honestly, I just wanted to get to know him a little better.”

“We both knew it was an excuse—”

“He never suspected a thing.”

“I absolutely did.”

“Not a clue. Nada. There’s a reason they call me Sloane the slick.”

“No one calls you that,” insisted Corbin. “Besides, I knew all along. Our posters had been done for a week.”

Sloane gave Corbin a playful nudge. “Then why’d you agree to come, hmm?”

“I guess... because a part of me didn’t hate the idea of having a friend,” Corbin had to concede. “Actually, I’m not sure what I was expecting to get out of our little meeting, but a total mental breakdown at a near-stranger’s house definitely wasn’t it. Took both of us by surprise. I’m… still not entirely sure why it happened.” 

Patton had his suspicions; he’d met Sloane’s mother before, and she was the epitome of sweet and affectionate. His voice softened. “Aw, Corbs.” 

To his surprise, though, Corbin smiled. “There I was, a snivelling mess on the carpet of a guy who until then had been a friendly acquaintance at best, but instead of judging me or getting uncomfortable, Sloane just… sat with me. Listened. And eventually, gave me comfort when I was ready for it. That’s where this quote-’love story’ began, Valerie — having someone to lean on was so helpful in getting me through the rest of the year, and by the time my mom finally cleaned up her act, our relationship had long since moved from partners in History class to, well, partners in just about every other sense.” 

“Corbin’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Sloane added. “Man’s witty, sweet, and so easy to talk to it’s stupid. All I really wanted after transferring here was a casual friend or two. Corbin turned out to be way more than that; he’s been my rock. My loneliness-b-gone, know what I’m sayin’? Nothing can mess with my funky flow when he’s around.”

“Hey, Sloane?” 

“Yeah?”

The corners of Corbin’s eyes crinkled affectionately. “That didn’t make any sense.”

***

By the third time the lead on the tip of his pencil snapped off, Patton could no longer ignore the voice in his head telling him to just give up for the night. He pushed his homework to the side and closed his eyes in a lazy attempt to calm the headache that had been steadily growing over the past half hour. This effort — if you could even call it that — proved futile; the image of the trigo-whatsit cosine graph he’d been staring at moments before was burned firmly in his mind’s eye. If he focused hard enough, he could even make out a colourful impression of the curvy lines faintly floating against the dark backdrop his eyelids provided. 

Patton yawned, wishing he hadn’t left his math homework for last. Talk about not making sense.

The bizarre pseudo-graph starting to psych him out, Patton opened his eyes back up with a yawn. His gaze landed on something bright blue: the cat-eared case of his phone, lying face down on the other side of his little desk so as not to distract him from the homework he was supposed to be doing. 

Fat lot of good that had done him. He’d been eyeing the thing all evening. 

Try as he might, Patton couldn’t get his lunchtime conversation with his friends out of his mind. Corbin’s story in particular had given him a lot to think about regarding Virgil’s predicament, and it hadn’t been very long after when Patton realized he knew exactly what to do. The answer was blindingly obvious in hindsight, really. 

Admittedly, he had yet to actually act upon his “master plan” — he’d been pushing the thing aside in favor of trying to make sense of his math work for most of the day. But now that Patton had, er, selflessly decided to sacrifice the completion of said work for the greater good, nothing was left to stand in his way.

Except possibly a lack of cooperation, but he could cross that bridge when he came to it.

After the briefest of internal debates, Patton’s hand reached out to make contact with something bright blue. Moments later, the brightness of a phone screen lit his features from below:

TheJollyJollyFoley (7:59pm): rooo

TheJollyJollyFoley (7:59pm): romannnn

TheJollyJollyFoley (7:59pm): roman my mannnnnnn

TheJollyJollyFoley (7:59pm): heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

le-petty-prince (8:00pm): Sorry I was just watching the clock change from 7:59 to 8

le-petty-prince (8:00pm): What can I do for you pattington bear?

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:00pm): ooh new nickname :DDD

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:01pm): anyways i just wanted to ask a question for science reasons

le-petty-prince (8:01pm): Well that sounds completely normal and not at all suspicious even the slightest amount! Ask away, O Vaguely Cryptic One

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:02pm): you ever wish you had friends

le-petty-prince (8:02pm): ???

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:02pm): wait no that came out weird let me try again

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:03pm): “how would you like to add a new friend to to your already existing large roster of many cool and awesome friends” <<< pretend thats what i said the first time pls

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:07pm): u still there?

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:12pm): hello?

When a few more minutes of waiting yielded no response, Patton’s brow furrowed. What if he had accidentally offended his older brother? 

Just as he was seriously starting to worry he’d blown it, though, his phone vibrated in his hands:

le-petty-prince (8:21pm): Sorry. Back. Monet says hi

le-petty-prince (8:21pm): Anyway!! Im intrigued!

With a sigh of relief, Patton tapped out his instinctive response:

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:21pm): hi intrigued im pat ;))

le-petty-prince (8:22pm): Funny

le-petty-prince (8:22pm): Now call me crazy but something tells me there was a little more than ordinary curiosity motivating this Friend Roster Expansion hypothetical

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:23pm): science reasons, roman, i told you

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:23pm): ..but yeah also another less sciencey thing

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:23pm): well i guess he could be sciencey? V was playing minesweeper last time we talked which seems like a smart-people kind of game but idk where exactly it would fall on the spectrum of scienciness

le-petty-prince (8:24pm): To be fair, its gotta take great courage to play minesweeper in public. Whoever this V person is, I deem them worthy of my respect

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:24pm): i assure you it was a very cool and respectable thing

le-petty-prince (8:24pm): In that case, I would be honoured to meet such an indisputably Cool Guy

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:25pm): !!! YESS

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:25pm): ok so i was thinking you and V could maybe meet up over coffee or something? theres this one really cute place that opened up recently, best cronuts youll ever taste <33

le-petty-prince (8:26pm): Ngl cronuts sound EXQUISITE right now

le-petty-prince (8:26pm): Why dont you send me their contact and I can try to schedule something, say next week?

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:26pm): ooh uh

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:27pm): thats the thing

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:27pm): i kind of dont really have any of V’s contact info BUT!! he works at the library so i’ll see him on friday and i can set up a time and place for you two then!!

le-petty-prince (8:28pm): Hmmhm

le-petty-prince (8:28pm): Funky circumstances but I trust your judgement! If you like V this much then Im sure he must be a real grand guy, I cannot wait to meet him!!!

le-petty-prince (8:29pm): Oh shoot sorry I need to go, Ive got a date to get ready for. Im super into this though so we can work out the details tomorrow, capiche?

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:29pm): caposh~

TheJollyJollyFoley (8:30pm): be safe!! dont have TOOOO much fun ;)))

le-petty-prince (8:33pm): Pfft. Bye dingus

***

“I just don’t get it!”

“Heard you the first time, bud,” quipped Valerie through a wry smile and a bite of celery. “You’re absolutely sure you didn’t… I don’t know, misinterpret something?”

“Yeah, I — no! Maybe?” Patton first tossed his phone onto the cafeteria table, then his hands into the air, frustrated. “I just don’t know why the sudden change in heart, Val. You know?”

“Who knows?”

“I know!”

“Okay, no. Press pause.” All eyes at the table turned to Corbin, who in turn was squinting through his glasses at Patton. “Guys, I’m barely following. Could you maybe explain what’s going on one more time?”

“Alright, you remember how I was telling you about Virgil yesterday? Lonely librarian guy? And you told everyone your and Sloane’s backstory and recommended I play friend-Cupid and all that jazz, right?” At Corbin’s nod: “Well, I tried it with Roman, and everything seemed to be going just peachy last night. He seemed really excited! But now all of a sudden… well, here.” Patton retrieved his phone to show his tablemates the messages. “Look.” 

le-petty-prince (11:12am): As I was saying though: I do hate to rain on your parade but to be frank I think Im uhh

le-petty-prince (11:13am): Good? Friendwise I mean

le-petty-prince (11:13am): Real sweet of you to reach out though

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:13am): wait what? really??

le-petty-prince (11:14am): Sorry there are just so many complications

le-petty-prince (11:15am): Im unbelievably busy these days, for one

le-petty-prince (11:15am): So so busy

le-petty-prince (11:15am): Student life, man. Busy with college

le-petty-prince (11:15am): Essays and stuff

le-petty-prince (11:16am): Look frankly I hardly even get to see my other friends anymore, if I went through with this the chances are pretty good that Id meet him for cronuts or whatever this one time and then never find time to hang out with him again

le-petty-prince (11:16am): Which just seems boorish. It would probably do more harm than good for poor V frankly

The last text appeared as Patton’s friends were still reading; with a frown, Valerie handed Patton’s phone back to him. “He is acting kind of weird.”

“Right? I’ve got to get to the bottom of this.” Patton looked up at his friends apologetically. “Is it okay with you guys if I text at the table today?”

An indifferent shrug was his response. “Go nuts, man.”

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:17am): hey ro? can i be straight with you for a sec?

le-petty-prince (11:18am): Good luck with that

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:18am): -_-

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:18am): no points for the gay joke today, however tasteful it may have been. serious business here

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:18am): roman, what changed your mind really?

le-petty-prince (11:19am): Huh

le-petty-prince (11:19am): Wdym

le-petty-prince (11:19am): Didnt I just say? Haha

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:20am): mm i dont think you did

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:20am): you keep talking about “complications” and youre using the word “frankly” a lot and i know for a fact that you only ever use those words when youre hiding somethin

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:21am): nice try though!! but i did grow up in the same house as you did so im gonna need you to give it another go

le-petty-prince (11:22am): I dont know why youre being so weird about this pat

le-petty-prince (11:23am): I mean sheesh maybe I really am busy okay?

le-petty-prince (11:23am): And for the record that maybe is actually a resounding REALLY

le-petty-prince (11:23am): Look see I didnt even say anything to do with frankness that time! Absolutely zero traces of frank in this honest fellows messages right now

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:24am): -___-

le-petty-prince (11:24am): Frank? Whos that? Dont ask roman, he wouldnt be able to answer you!!

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:24am): -_______-

le-petty-prince (11:25am): Okay sorry youre right Im done

le-petty-prince (11:25am): Seriously though I dont understand how this warrants such a fuss? I just thought it over some more and realized it would actually be a bad idea to meet V for aforementioned reasons, et cetera et cetera. Why does that have to be such a big deal

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:26am): i…

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:26am): okay youre right i dont really know

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:26am): i guess this is just a really quick turnaround and it doesnt seem like something youd typically do??

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:27am): i mean you were all for it yesterday. you said, and i quote, “I cannot wait to meet him!!!”

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:27am): THREE exclamation marks and all!!! 

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:28am): besides, maybe college is busy but theres no reason you should be any busier now than youve always been and

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:28am): whew. sorry for being pushy. i didnt mean to sound like i dont respect your choice, ig im disappointed is all :(

le-petty-prince (11:29am): No thats ok

le-petty-prince (11:30am): Ill tell you what. You said youd see V on friday right? And todays thursday.

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:30am): uh

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:30am): yeah..

le-petty-prince (11:31am): So hows this: Ill think it over some more during rehearsal this evening, and if I have another change of heart Ill get back to you tomorrow.

TheJollyJollyFoley (11:31am): !!!!!!!!

le-petty-prince (11:32am): Its still not a yes!! 

le-petty-prince (11:32am): But… consider me solidly in Maybe territory.

le-petty-prince (11:32am): Capiche?

***

The majority of “tomorrow” had come and gone, and Patton still had yet to hear from his brother. 

He’d been glued to his phone all day, checking his messages with a near-obsessive frequency in hopes that Roman might text him to say he’d come to his senses after all… but as Patton buckled into the passenger seat of his mother’s tan SUV on its way to the library, he had to admit the odds were getting pretty slim. 

His mother, misinterpreting his solemn expression, shot him a quizzical glance out of the corner of her eye. “I thought you said the tutoring was going well.”

Before Patton could answer her, a quiet chime sounded from within his backpack — barely audible, but Patton’s ears had been piqued for it all day. Instantly, he scrambled to retrieve the bright blue source of the sound, perking up as he saw the screen was already illuminated. As Patton read over the contents of the notification, a wide grin spread across his face.

“Yeah,” Patton said out loud, addressing his mother with his words even as his fingers were already moving to type out a reply to someone else. “Tutoring’s great.”

le-petty-prince (3:44pm): Ah, what the hell. Im in.

***

A/N: me, rushing in more than a month late, starbucks cup in one hand and this update in the other: HEY GUYS DONT FORGET TO LIKE COMMENT AND RING TH -- wait where did everyone go

for real though, i'm so so sorry about how long this mediocre chapter took to go up!! this was the first chapter that i HADN'T finished the rough draft stage of during nanowrimo, and i huuuugely underestimated how long the unfinished portion would turn out to be. couple that with this weird writer's block that's been following me around wherever i go for a little over three months, and, well... you'll end up with this ^^; thank you so much for sticking with me though, and i hope it was at least semi-worth the wait?

[next chapter]

General: @surleytemple @starryfirefliesbloggo @icecoldparadise @lyditist @fandom-random2405 @beach-fan @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @starryeyedhomicide @unring-this-bell @flix-net @pheonix-inside @thelowlysatsuma @residentanchor @sanderstalker @kazykazu @theres-no-winning-on-christmas @fandersfic-patton @fandersfic-roman @fandersfic-logicality @fandersfic-prinxiety

AAmour: @romanticsanders @thatrandomautist @mirror2thespirit @pokii-jonas @basicmillennial @starlitparfait @littleladynightshade @insert--self--hatred @psychixx @damien-furlong

[chiseler]

Unfunnymen

Sooner or later one has to face El Brendel, in the same way that sooner or later one has to face death.

But by way of working up to the grim task gently, let's start with Joe E. Brown. This vaudevillian, graced with an unnaturally wide mouth, which seemed on the verge of separating cranium from lower jaw, and giving him the flapping head of a South Park Canadian, spelled fortune to the exuberant, hearty, not particularly funny man who had been applied around this yawning abyss like lipstick.

We tend to remember Brown more fondly than his moderate talent deserves, because he delivers a classic closing line in a classic comedy. The line is "Well, nobody's perfect," and the film is Some Like It Hot (1959) and it's a good demonstration that great dialogue is often great because of context rather than because of the brilliant assembling of words. Here, the phrase is a commonplace one, but nobody can forget it when they've heard it used to cap the film's closing scene. Perhaps it was the prosaic nature of the line which caused its writers to doubt it: Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond wrote it the night before filming, and turned in saying "Maybe we'll think of something better in the morning.”

Joe E. Brown says the line the way he said about every line of his career, enthusiastically, with a goggly stare and an effort to draw the corners of his rubbery mouth as far apart as possible. Stretching his elastic features like a chest expander was basically all he did. He was blessed with a funny face, but what was under it? A perfectly ordinary skull. No funny bones here.

Brown starred - actually starred! - in a whole series of pre-code comedies which prove that not everything made at Warners in the thirties was forward-looking, funny and challenging. He played "lovable" losers who win in the end. Like Harold Lloyd only with his face gashed open. His leading ladies included Joan Bennett, Ginger Rogers, Olivia De Havilland, Ann Dvorak. To contemplate any of those films proceeding beyond the final clinch-and-fadeout is to consider bestiality. One feels Bette Davis was lucky to escape his all-consuming maw. Every other Warners contract starlet was engulfed.

It's safe to assume Wilder gave him his great late role because Brown brought with him associations of a bygone age. Brown would remind audiences of the kind of stuff people used to laugh at. He isn't precisely used as a butt, more as a threat. He seems so genderless, acceptable jokes can be made about him marrying a man. Now that dream is a reality, but Some Like it Hot still seems just a little transgressive, or at least a rare film from its period which manages to imply a questioning of gender roles. Maybe Brown's earlier work would have been improved if he hadn't been required to show interest in girls. He would make a perfect speculative fiction hypothesis of what the third sex might look like. And his best quality as a comic is his alienness: like Harry Langdon, he seems to have beamed down from another world, some kind of asexual clown planet.

Warners had plenty of unappealing comic actors, but they didn't tend to make them leading men. And in small doses, mugs like Guy Kibbee or Hugh Herbert could work. H.H. had one bit of schtick, to say "woo-woo" and giggle inanely while flapping his stubbing fingers in nervous benediction. He did that for about twenty-five years and was never fatally shot or bludgeoned to death. Those were, in many ways, more tolerant times.

Woo-woo Hugh and "the Clown Prince" Brown appear together in Warners all-star A Midsummer Night's Dream, as rude mechanicals, which is perfect casting. A crowd of unfunny funnymen, delivering Shakespeare's less clever material, as background to Jimmy Cagney. The world has acquired some kind of order. But one film later, Brown will be in the lead again, baffling us.

It's bizarre that Brown played leads, since his equipment seems to better suit second banana roles. But its not as mystifying as the career of dialect comedian El Brendel, which requires the aid of a conspiracy theory to make it in any way intelligible.

The story is told that when studio boss William Fox was in a car accident, Elmer Brendel was the only one around with the right blood group to save his life. In gratitude, Fox disfigured his studio's entire output by thrusting the smirking, talentless goof into film after film.

El Brendel was in some good films, like the Oscar-winning Wings. But he's always the worst things about every film he's in, whether it's a classic like Wings or a schlock snooze like The She Creature (1956) at the far end of his career. A farrago about sea monsters and hypnosis, it's hilarious except when El is doing his comedy relief.

El Brendel's schtick was to play a fake foreigner - the Synthetic Swede was his sobriquet. With his little quacking voice he would play naive malaprops, garbling the English language. But he couldn't help smiling in apparent self-satisfaction at each of his would-be funny lines. For a character who's not supposed to know he's funny, this was a terrible mistake, and may explain why I want to murder El Brendel whenever I see him. There's a special circle of hell for comedians who act like they think they're funny. At its centre lies Red Skelton, encased in ice. But I like to think El Brendel is nearby, forced to listen to Red Skelton laugh at how hilarious he thinks he is. For eternity.

Asides from his tight little quarter-moon smile and his twinkly little quarter moon eyes in his punchable face, El Brendel is the comedian without qualities. To see him in what passes for action is to be reminded how much more than a mock accent Chico Marx brought to the screen. Chico was an incredible actor - the Brando of atsa-no-good. El Brendel couldn't even gesture at being funny. In William Wellman's You Never Know Women (1926), the clown makes his debut, playing a clown. It's all there, or rather it isn't, from the start. He is born fully unformed. Wellman resorts to putting him on a wire to try and make him funny. He doesn't even make a decent puppet. The presence in the film of an angry knife-thrower has you praying for a severed artery, but it never comes. Brendel would hang on to his eight pints until William Fox needed one of them. He wasn't talented, but he could marshal his resources.

El Brendel is not an actor, he's not a comedian, he's a gimmick in a flesh suit.

If Joe E. Brown was popular because people with an undeveloped sense of humor require comedians who look like clowns even without facepaint, and El Brendel was successful because movie executives need blood like everyone else, Lincoln Theodore Monroe Andrew Perry, who used the stage name Stepin Fetchit, is a different case.

Fetchit only appeared as a supporting player, but his effect was striking, slowing any scene he was in to the pace of coastal erosion. For that alone, he deserves acknowledgment, whether you welcome his derailment of fast-talking thirties movies or not.

The discomfort Fetchit produces today qualifies him as an honorary unfunnyman, since he was a black actor specializing in playing servant characters of awesome slow-wittedness. Sloping apelike into a scene, his lower lip hanging like the rear flap on a truck, as if the energy to raise it were missing, Stepin Fetchit seems to embody every negative stereotype of his day. Billed as "the laziest man alive," he melded lethargy with ignorance to create a perfect simulacrum of stupidity.

But Perry was very popular with black audiences, who understood something white viewers missed. How much fun it would be, to act like Fetchit in front of white authority! They can punish you for disobedience, but not for your failure to understand an order. Nobody was going to get any meaningful work out of this man, sunk as he seemed to be in the depths of psychomotor retardation. It seemed to be all he could manage to raise his head above chest level. His voice issued in a reedy rasp, painfully stringing words together like an infant assembling building blocks, with the sentences liable at any moment to falter, turn back on themselves, or fade out altogether. Will Rogers, embodiment of the benign white master, could demonstrate his saintliness by finding Fetchit's stream-of-unconsciousness monologues interesting, enlightening.

It is questionable whether even John Ford, who cast Fetchit regularly even after liberal embarrassment had rendered him largely unacceptable elsewhere, understood the subversive side of the comic's character. Probably he just found him funny, and a useful modifier of the generally rambunctious Ford comic scene. Fetchit had the legendary minus factor: entering a scene charged with high emotion, he could make it feel as if someone had left. Where other actors are praised for presence, he had absence. Looking around him in bewilderment, he forced the narrative to its knees, to proceed at the slothlike pace of his dull comprehension.

Of course, the joke cut both ways, since the Fetchit character made white audiences feel comfortably superior. But it's hard now to look upon his schtick without feeling racial shame, an inward cringe. The last laugh is Stepin Fetchit's: no one else is laughing.

by David Cairns

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead (7)

A/N: y’all ., ., .,,. . ..  we’re finally getting to the Good Shit. my hand was literally Over the “post” button and then i remembered “oh shit this is supposed to be touchstarved roman”, so, uh, that’s not reflected in this chapter at ALL. but it’s still filled to the brim with angst. but like, hurt comfort angst. i think i can call this a hurt comfort, right? right

WARNINGS: cursing, arguments, yelling, like a lot of yelling, Complex Emotions, self-hatred (implied) — if I missed anything, please let me know!!! <3 <3

Words: 6575 

Pairings: im proud to say that this has some Logicality. only 20,000 words into the story and we’re finally getting small tastes of ships. still DLAMP endgame but by god. 

Part 1 (chivalry is dead) — Part 2 (i’m wishing) — Part 3 (the bells of notre dame) — Part 4 (honor to us all) — Part 5 (i’ve got no strings) — Part 6 (god help the outcasts) — Part 7 (go the distance)

AO3 link!

@starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda@askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil

i hope y’all like this one!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 

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It seemed that, without Roman’s focus, the Imagination sustained a regular day/night cycle. Logan made a mental note about it as they watched the sun go down behind the forest hills, perfectly in tune with his internal clock’s knowledge of the real world’s time. The sky, however, was darkening more rapidly than it would normally. While walking through the forest, he hadn’t noticed any incline changes, so perhaps the forests were thicker than he’d originally thought. The map didn’t indicate that, anyway.

It was a fascinating place, the Imagination. It seemed semi-sentient — at least, based on how the Playwright described it and from what they’d seen so far. Logan regretted not asking to see more of it when Roman was….

No. He’d ask Roman to show him once Roman had returned. His chest hurt a tiny bit to think of it. Nothing was out of reach.

He faced forward again, marching silently. Patton was humming, had been for the whole trip, humming Disney songs.

The Child was staring at Logan still. It was unnerving, for many reasons (A child? Roman was a fucking child? Why was he staring so much? How much less formed were each of the Romans? How did they select what they looked like? Who was the Child based upon? What did he believe?) so he looked away.

“Stop,” the Child patted Patton’s back, “Stop here.”

“Ooookay,” Patton stopped, and Logan stopped behind him.

They’d been walking towards the castle this whole time, away from the sunset. It was clearly huge now, with multiple large spires with red and glittering gold flags. Patton thought it looked straight out of a medieval movie, almost too grand to just be based on Disney alone, though it did bear some resemblances to the castle in Disneyland. It was incredibly pretty.

Oh, sure, he’d seen the Imagination before. Patton and Roman had sat at the window in his room and Patton would listen to Roman as he talked about the various worlds he created. Sometimes it was a balcony with seats and a tea set, but he liked the window sofa more, since he and Roman could sit in each others’ laps and bundle up beneath a pile of blankets. Patton could recognize this castle from a distance. He’d seen this setting before, with the forest and large lake and glittering dual rivers that Roman’d named and then renamed and named again, though Patton couldn’t remember what names he finally chose.

Logan seemed surprised by it all, though, and Patton didn’t want to make it seem like he was rubbing his friendship with Roman in his face. Plus, he’d never been inside. Things were a lot bigger up close.

Yeah, he could see how Logan kept frowning around the world. How he’d been glaring at the Child for the whole walk. Patton’d made a pun — “This sure is a magic kingdom, eh?” — and he hadn’t even groaned!

Patton shifted his weight on his feet, casting Logan a worried look as the logical side inspected the building before them. Whatever was eating at him, he hoped it’d settle soon, because Patton knew they’d need Logan thinking properly to get Roman put together.

“We’ve gotta go in here,” the Child pointed to the building.

It was an unassuming door with two steps leading up to it, attached to a building that looked exactly the same as the others. Besides the door was a wooden sign, fixed to the stone wall, that read “Art Museum (Ages 3–6)”. It was a fairly unassuming building, similar to the other stone buildings to the left, right, and other side of the road.

“Okay,” Patton reached out and touched the door’s handle, just to be interrupted by the Child waving his arms up.

“No! No, no, not yet!” he put his hands out.

“Not yet? Well, what’re we waitin’ for?” Patton put his hands on his hips, watching the Child with a small smile.

“The sun is lowering. It will be night soon,” Logan added, giving the sky a quick glance again.

“But the Artist can’t know that you’re Dad and Mister Logic,” the Child said, mirroring Patton’s hands-on-hips position.

Logan, on the other hand, crossed his arms in thought. “Why can’t he know? Is he a danger?”

“Nah,” the Child shook his head and pointed a finger at Logan. “The Artist doesn’t like you most.”

Logan exhaled sharply. His brow furrowed, nose scrunched, as he processed THAT. Of course,the Playwright supporting him meant there was a counter. Of course Roman didn’t harbor only positive feelings towards him. Logan knew his and Roman’s opinions differed on a multitude of topics, often resulting in unpleasant quarrels. He knew. And, yet, it hurt. “Come again?”

“The Artist doesn’t like you. Don’t worry, he doesn’t like Mister Anxiety either. Or Mister Deceit. He kinda sorta likes Dad?” the Child made a so-so motion with his hands, before letting his shoulders drop with an exaggerated groan. “Not really. He doesn’t like Dad. It’s okay, he barely likes Thomas!”

Logan looked toward Patton with a frown, now thoroughly confused, and was greeted with a similar confused pout. There was a part of Roman who just didn’t like any of them. Not even Thomas. That upset Patton fairly well, but Logan….was almost relieved.

The Child waved his hands again, sticking them up in between the two adult Sides. “Hey! Like I said, that’s okay! We just gotta walk around him and he probably won’t notice you.”

“Do you think he won’t notice that three people have entered his house? Especially two adults. Two full Sides,” Logan couldn’t keep the disbelief from his voice.

If the Child noticed, he didn’t let on. “Yep! He barely looks up from the whatevers he’s working on, anyway,” he bounced on the balls of his feet, “Maybe….hm.”

He looked up at the sky and rubbed his hands together. Above them was a thick cloud. It would probably rain that night; they were still looking for him, anyway.

The Artist was probably getting worried. Right? Curfew was coming up soon and if Child got caught, Thief and Bard would be upset, and so Artist would be upset, too, right?

“We have to go in. If he asks, uh,” an idea popped into the Child’s head, and he snapped his fingers. “You can say you’re Dad guy and Teacher guy!”

Logan’s eye twitched. “Do you mean the characters from Thomas’ short videos?”

The last semblances of seriousness Logan held inside himself was shattered by the Child’s enthusiastic nodding. “Yeppers! They’re really nice! Teach is really good at making Dad laugh, and since this all happened, they’ve been—”

“The Shorts characters are alive inside the Imagination,” Logan wasn’t even trying to hide his disdain anymore.

He’d been half angry, half curious as they marched through the sleepy town. He could accept magic, sure, he could suspend his disbelief. It made sense that the Dominoes guy was in here. That was backed by science. But what in the name of Newton did the Shorts characters—

“Logan,” Patton held his hand and gave it a quick squeeze, “This is the Imagination.”

—okay, really, why the FUCK were the Shorts characters real in here?! — and the Child was now just rambling on about characters who were actually fictional. Characters who were characters. Scratch his curiosity from earlier, the Imagination followed no reason and he wanted out. Immediately.

Patton squeezed Logan’s hand again, in a rhythm, one two three four, tight, and raised his other hand toward the Child, who was still talking.

“Hey, kiddo,” the Child immediately quieted, looking up at Patton, “This all sounds fun, but can we talk more about it when we’re inside?”

Patton immediately regretted interrupting him. The Child’s lip curled inward, eyes growing wider as he nodded silently. He looked at Logan, who was scowling at the door, and wilted.

“Yeah. Not important. Okay,” the Child took the door handle and flung it open.

Before Patton could respond, he darted in. Logan looked at Patton, scowl replaced with a confused raised eyebrow, oblivious to the quiet tension he’d missed while internally monologuing.

Patton just slouched. The Child was more skittish than he’d anticipated.

The museum was dark and dusty, though not unintelligible. Patton entered first. There were drawings everywhere, some on actual pieces of paper, some on torn-out notebook pages, some on the wall itself. All of which were children’s drawings, of course, scribbles and splotches of paint. In the halls were also some sculptures on pedestals, most seemingly made of Playdough.

He stopped by a drawing of a house, two windows and a door, and read the placard beside it. Patton was pretty sure he had the same drawing in his room, tucked away in an old photo album.

“Thomas and Roman Sanders. House 41, 1994. Crayon on cardstock.”

Patton felt tears coming to his eyes. Thomas was only five, oh those were good times, learning about the world around him! Such a soft era. And Thomas’ grown so much since then, too.

This was an interesting place for someone to live, but considering his name was Artist, it made sense for him to live amongst his work. Patton turned around, a bright smile on his face, and motioned Logan to join him. “Logan! Come look at the art!”

Logan was standing just inside the door, which was closed behind him, eyes examining the exhibit. It was disorganized and clearly unkempt. Roman must not have visited in a while. Or maybe he didn’t have a curator for this museum. Before he could respond to Patton’s call, the Child’s voice echoed from down the hall.

“Are you coming?”

Logan and Patton shared a look, one disgruntled and one sheepish, and hurried down the hall lined with childish artwork. There were more houses, some family drawings, a fun looking self portrait with bright colors.

“Hurried” is an overstatement. Logan had to pull Patton away from a drawing on more than one occasion.

“Down here,” the Child’s whispers bounced along the walls.

They entered a room, still lined with drawings, and found the Child standing in front of one of the artworks. He held out a hand to them. “C’mon, we’re going in,” he said.

Logan squinted at the painting in question. Yes, painting, done in “Crayola Washable Paint on Cardboard,” according to the placard beside it. “Thomas and Roman Sanders. House 118.”

He looked at Patton for support that this was absolutely ridiculous, but was only met with another shrug. “It’s the Imagination,” he said, as though that explained everything, “Don’t think too hard, or you’ll get a headache.”

Too late for that, Logan thought, though he stopped himself from pondering. Instead, he grit his teeth and held Patton’s arm, determined to get to the bottom of this figurative rabbit hole. Patton himself took the Child’s hand.

The Child gripped Patton’s hand and leaned toward the painting. He pinched the painted door’s handle, tugged.

They all felt a pulling sensation, the Child pulling Patton who pulled Logan.

And then there was a door before them.

It was as though someone poured white paint all over their surroundings, from every angle, wiping away the museum they’d come from and leaving a blank emptiness behind them, all within less than a second.

Logan stared at the door. Then he turned, slow and steady, overlooking the blank white expanse. Like an empty page.

Something wasn’t computing. It’s the Imagination, he repeated in his mind, like Patton’d said earlier.

Directly behind them was the only piece of “world” they could see other than the door. It was another painting, of the museum, of the room that they’d just left, hanging in the middle of nothing.

Social realism, Logan thought. The painting’s placard read “Roman Sanders. The Art Museum repaint, 2019. Oil on canvas.” A reverse portal, created recently. Logan almost wanted to touch it and see how dry the paint was.

“C’mon, we gotta go inside,” the Child whispered, giving Patton’s hand a tug.

Patton, in turn, tugged Logan, who turned back around. “Sorry, this is just….” fascinating? Interesting? Enchanting? Something I would like to experiment with Roman on further? “Different.”

Patton watched the Child as he watched Logan. Roman was clearly still in there, Patton thought, and he didn’t want to be. And, to be frank, Patton understood that feeling. There were many days where he wanted to curl up into his hoodie and be young again, if only to hear a good joke once more. Those were the two-cookie kinds of days!

Maybe Logan couldn’t see what Patton was seeing? The Child’s big wide eyes, staring at Logan and Patton as though searching for approval. Or how he tried so hard to ignore Logan’s obvious contempt for the situation. It was obvious that the Child was actively trying to ignore it, but Patton didn’t miss how he flinched at Logan’s tone. The Child wasn’t naïve, not entirely — in certain turns of phrase and side-glances, the Child revealed his thirty years of life experiences.

But the Child also didn’t seem to notice that Logan wasn’t angry about the world. No, Patton thought as Logan turned back to the museum painting quickly, he was more upset at himself for not being able to understand it.

“Different,” Logan repeated, brow furrowed. It didn’t feel like the right word. He wasn’t usually one to have vocabulary troubles, but he couldn’t find a more adequate word.

It satiated the Child. Or, rather, the Child was thinking of something else. His hand was stiff on the doorknob. Patton leaned in, letting go of Logan finally to put both hands on the Child’s shoulders. “Go ahead,” he whispered. He hoped the Child could feel how much Patton loved him.

Perhaps he did, because the Child calmed down. Enough for him to open the door.

The most notable thing was the mess. There were a lot of things inside that door. Canvases, sketchbooks, pens, pencils, paint sets, notebooks, cups of water, all in piles or scattered about the floor. Some canvases were hung on the walls, too, and some were laid flat on the ground. Others were stacked atop each other or leaned in bunches against the walls. There was a clear path through the mess on the floor, that branched to the stairs on the left and then into the kitchen on the right. Logan could see a drawing tablet over there, too, propped against the wall. Where the laptop was, he couldn’t tell. Patton could see that most of the paintings were unfinished. Whether it be sketch lines still showing or just clearly half-painted, half-white canvases, not a single finished piece was in this clutter.

The second most notable thing was the person painting.

Another Roman — the Artist, most likely — was sitting on a stool in front of a painting on an easel. It was also only an assumption that he was another Roman, because he absolutely did not look it, clad in a white hoodie covered in paint splotches and red sweatpants, hood pulled up and covering his hair. The only thing that indicated his Roman status was the golden waves adorning his sleeves, the same as the waves on Roman’s crest.

He held a large painting palette in his right hand and a brush in his left, dabbing oil paint against the half-finished canvas in front of him. Another work in progress, it seemed.

The clutter and the painting didn’t bother the Child. He closed the door behind himself, being careful to not slam it, and cleared his throat.

The other Roman didn’t move nor speak. Just kept painting, dabbing his brush on the palette and swiping it along the canvas. The painting was unfinished, but it looked so far like an impressionist piece, Logan thought.

The Child coughed again, yet the other Roman didn’t flinch.

“I’m back, Arty,” he said.

“I heard you,” came the impatient reply, snappy and fast, the Artist not turning to speak to them, “Who’s with you?”

“Dad. And Teach. Dragon was mean today,” the Child was playing with the hem of his shirt

“Mhm.”

“It’s curfew. They couldn’t go back to their houses.”

“Mhm.”

“So they’re gonna sleep here. I’ll keep them in my room.”

“Mhm.”

The Child took Logan and Patton’s hands into his own again and pulled them toward the stairs. “Good luck with your painting,” his voice teetered off into silence as the Artist failed to turn again.

Patton opened his mouth, but the Child squeezed his hand and shook his head. Logan took a little more tugging, as he stood by the bottom of the stairs, trying to look at all the paintings. Some were paintings — oil impressionist, pop art, surrealism and cubism, even some De Stijl paintings — some were simple figure drawings on lightly-crumpled paper, some even….was that a painting of Virgil?

The Child tugged harder and Logan stumbled after him.

They made it to the top of the stairs. The Child let go of Patton and opened the door, ushering both of them in before slamming the door shut behind himself.

This was probably the most regular room they’d seen so far in the Imagination. A small twin bed sat in the corner, with a big canopy and fairy lights overtop. There were streamers and drawings and posters hanging all around the walls, even some stickers and some drawings done directly onto the wall. A wardrobe sat in the corner farthest from the bed, a desk and vanity mirror besides that, and five bean bags were arranged in a circle around a circle rug in the middle of the room.

There was an air of magic around the room, too. The fairy lights bobbed up and down slowly, despite being hung on wires, and the clouds painted onto the ceiling seemed to move. The ceiling was fairly low, too; Patton reached up, eyes stuck on a cloud in the shape of a heart, and found that he could actually touch them. The heart swirled around his hand, glowing light blue before dissipating entirely.

“Sorry about him,” Patton and Logan looked down at the Child — he’d gone to the wardrobe and was taking off his cloak, revealing a plain white shirt with the crest’s sun emblazoned across his back. “Artist’s, uh, not a people person.”

“So we saw. His work, however….it’s breathtaking,” Logan stepped aside as Patton went for one of the beanbags, “I didn’t realize Roman was that much of an artist.”

The Child snorted. He sat down on one of the other beanbags and started untying his shoes, chubby fingers unlacing them down a few notches. “Yeah, well. You never seemed interested. No one was. Arty doesn’t like leaving his art all alone, so ever since we formed he’s been in here with it.”

“Yeah, you said somethin’ like that.” Patton crossed his legs on the bean bag, leaning forward on his elbows toward the Child. “The Playwright also said something about everyone having different thoughts on what’s best for Roman.”

“Playwright!” the Child tossed his shoes into the corner behind the door and laid back in the bean bag, spread out with his arms open. “Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen him in a while, is he okay?”

Logan let his shoulders loosen and slouch. It….did feel good to unwind, after the events of the day. Maybe the adrenaline and shock were wearing off finally. He sat down on another bean bag, bending his knees as though he were in a normal chair. “Yes, he is fine. He is, ah, backstage, as he called it.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Artist doesn’t like Playwright at all,” Logan and Patton shared another confused glance at that, “Thief says it’s ‘cause he doesn’t like mister Logic, but I think he doesn’t like you ‘cause he doesn’t like Playwright.”

“Why doesn’t he like the Playwright? That seems counterintuitive, to not like yourself,” As soon as the words left Logan’s mouth, he realized how hypocritical it sounded. And how obvious the explanation was.

Patton seemed to notice as well, because he grimaced, putting a hand on top of Logan’s knee. The Child, however, just shrugged. “Well, I don’t like all of me, you know? I wanted to figure out what parts of me I could live without, but every part of me has an opinion about what part’s important.”

“I?” Logan asked, softer now.

The Child nodded. “Roman. I,” he made a gesture up at the air, and it reminded Patton a little of the hand flip Roman typically did when rising. “I’m Roman but I’m not Roman.”

“How does that work, kiddo?” Patton coaxed him.

“It’s like….” he trailed off, resting his hand on his chin as he thought. After a few quiet moments, he continued.

“Okay,” The Child sat up and patted his own chest. “Me. I’m the Child. AND I’m Roman. I’m all….”

He flopped backward again onto the bean bag, making vague gestures with his hands as he wrestled to find the words, only to find that there were none. No words truly.

The Child let his hands fall onto his stomach with a groan, staring upwards. Patton and Logan shared a nervous glance. It was clear something was bothering the Child, something integral to this Hunger Games of Romans situation.

“Take your time, kiddo,” Patton tried to comfort him, but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

The Child was just looking up at the sky ceiling. After another few seconds, he heaved a sigh.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The sky?” Logan and Patton both looked up as well.

“With all the clouds that look like pretty things. And even if they don’t look like things, they look soft and fluffy and wonderful. And then, when there aren’t clouds, it’s the most beautiful shade of blue or a dazzling red, like how a nice summer night makes you feel?” The ceiling had been full of fluffy white clouds, meandering across the painted blue expanse, but as soon as the Child mentioned “dazzling red” the clouds began to glow pink as the ceiling’s paint color changed to red. He clapped.

“Or, or! Even better, sometimes, when it’s really, really late, and there are stars out? And every star is like a gem on a glittering cloak that the world’s putting on you?” the ceiling changed once more, painted black as the clouds vanished. One by one, twinkling stars seemed to glow from nothing against the ceiling backdrop. In actual constellations, no less.

“It’s all so….” the Child exhaled, “Beautiful.”

Silence followed. All three of them were now laying on the bean bags, looking up at the twinkling stars and the occasional barely visible line that connected them. They just starred, Logan and Patton unsure of how to break the silence, until the Child continued himself.

“That’s what I want Roman to remember,” Patton looked at the Child, who was watching the stars. He spoke with a strong determination, voice set. “That’s what I want to see. The beauty.”

He faltered, closing his open mouth and gritting his teeth. Logan looked away from the sky now, too, and watched the Child as he closed his eyes. Wiser than he seemed. “But that makes me really childish, doesn’t it? If we just see the beauty, then that means we’re ignoring all the bad stuff. And if we’re too childish, we don’t get taken seriously, and we really need to be taken seriously. I mean….”

The Child glanced over at Patton, and he could have sworn that the Child had tears in his eyes. Oh, he hoped he wasn’t crying. Patton reached out, offering his hand to maybe comfort him, but the Child just shrugged, unwilling to look at him anymore.

“We see how you get treated, Dad,” Patton’s brow furrowed in confusion, hand retracting a little, as though the Child’s words hurt. “No one takes you serious and you always have to prove yourself. We don’t take you serious, either, a lot of the time. ‘Cause if you’re childish, then you don’t deserve to be taken seriously. That’s what Roman tells himself. Tells me. But it’s wrong.”

Now the silence was just awkward. Patton lowered his hand into his lap as the Child looked back up at the sky. There was no denying now, now that the Child’s quiet breathing hitched and stuttered, that he was crying.

“It has to be wrong,” he whispered between gasps.

Slowly, the Child pulled his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes and sniffing into his hands. Patton was going to start crying himself, watching the Child cry. He turned to Logan with a bitten lip. He knew, deep down, that the others didn’t always take his opinion seriously. Heck, it was a running theme! Patton the childish, the inner child, the baby. But Jesus, that was point blank.

“You’re correct, Roman. I don’t always understand you both, but the things I don’t understand aren’t…they aren’t unimportant. Occasional immaturity does not equal insignificant. We….” Logan faltered and looked up at Patton, who was staring at him now, tears dotting his eyes.

They really did walk on him, didn’t they? Logan considered the times he had helped elevate Patton’s concerns, and the situations in which Patton’s concerns were elevated. No one took the puppet suggestion seriously, until it was proven successful, and Thomas himself had to step in to get them to even consider it as an option. Along with that, Deceit was able to mimic Patton by, what? Literally saying he was a fan of cartoons and was silly? It was so easy to character Patton into a caricature of immature glee that he, Roman, and Virgil barely noticed.

That was the insult, wasn’t it. Childish. Not to be taken seriously. Silly and immature. Was that what he thought of Patton?

Patton wiped his tears and looked away. “I….guess that’s true. But hey! That’s what comes with being Thomas’ inner child, isn’t it?” there he went, voice heightening in pitch as he tried to make it sound as though he weren’t so upset with Logan’s silence and the Child’s assessment. “Your dorky ol’ Dad can be a lil’ goofball a lot of the time.”

“Your goofball-ness is welcome, often appreciated. We….do have a lot to learn, about having fun and seeing things anew.”

Patton looked over at Logan, who was watching him with determination. The Child, too, was watching Logan with both eyebrows raised, having grabbed a pillow from his side to press his face into. His eyes were two large spotlights.

“I do not understand the Imagination. I cannot claim to. But there IS immense beauty in this world you’ve created, and I see that it would be a waste to focus on making logical sense of it rather than take in the world around as a work of art. It might be childish, but sometimes….a little childishness is what we need to maintain a healthy lifestyle and a healthy headspace. Your input is appreciated.”

If Roman was having these sorts of concerns, about being perceived as childish or not, then Logan knew it was likely Patton had similar concerns. He chided himself mentally for letting this self-consciousness fester but a direct approach was always the most efficient.

And it was all worth it to see Patton smile and remove his glasses, wiping the tears from his downcast eyes.

“Thank you for sharing your concerns with us, kiddo,” the Child smiled at the nickname and rubbed the back of his neck, turning away for a bit. Patton smiled at him, then at Logan, beaming like the sun. “Logan put it real well.”

Logan fixed his glasses, pleased with himself, and the Child patted his arm. “Thank you, Logan,” he said.

They sat in silence, eyes flicking with new brief understanding between each other, until there was banging from below the floor. Patton squeaked and Logan stiffened, but the Child just groaned into his pillow.

“WHAT’RE YOU TALKING ABOUT UP THERE?!” the Artist’s voice boomed from below.

“JUST TALKIN’ ABOUT THE OTHER SIDES WITH TEACH,” the Child shouted back, voice muffled by the pillow.

“WELL, SHUT UP ‘BOUT THEM! THE DRAGON BITCH’LL HEAR YOU!”

“YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

“YOU BRATTY LITTLE—DON’T MAKE ME COME UP THERE!”

The Child leaned his back, groaning loud and angrily. “FINE! SORRY!”

Logan and Patton exchanged worried glances. Had the Artist heard that whole conversation? They looked to the Child for any thoughts or input, but he just shook his head.

“He won’t come upstairs. Ugh, I was doing real good at not saying your names,” he rubbed his face, rubbing the tears into his skin to hide them, “It’s–It’s like the taboo system. Dragon, he put a curse on your names so all of us can hear it when someone says them. The others aren’t really scared of that, they–they….Artist doesn’t want anyone finding this house. He heard me say your name, mister Logic.”

Before either of the adults could respond, however, there was another crash from downstairs. The Child frowned and climbed off the bean bag, kneeling on the ground with an ear pressed to the rug.

“What—” Patton was cut off by the Child shushing him harshly.

They weren’t confused for long, though, as the voices grew more raised and angry.

“—TOLD YOU—FUCK OUT!” they heard the Artist shout.

“I WILL ONCE YOU STOP TALKING SHIT ABOUT THE OTHERS! THEY’RE IN OUR REALM NOW, THEY COULD HEAR YOU!”

Patton raised his eyebrows. He looked at Logan, who was frowning at nothing. When he noticed Patton, Logan mouthed “Playwright.” He didn’t seem like the type to be so….explosive.

“WELL TOUGH, PLAYWRONG. I DONT GIVE A FUCK IF THEY HEAR ME! I JUST DON’T WANT DRAGON SHOWING UP, THOSE UNGRATEFUL CRITICAL ASSHOLES—”

“THEY’RE MUCH MORE THAN THAT, THEY’RE BETTER THAN ALL OF US COMBINED, YOU STARVING STEREOTYPE—”

The Child stood up slowly, stepping carefully on the rug and sliding his feet along the wooden floor. He slid all the way to the door. As slow as he could, he clicked the lock in place, and let out a breath. The yelling died down immediately to a whisper, as though locking the door disconnected the room from the whole house.

“That’ll keep them out. They’re probably not gonna come up here, can’t get into my room now, but if they find you then we’re all fucked,” he mumbled.

“Language,” Patton mumbled, and the Child giggled at him. “No swear words when there’re children present, you know that!”

“Yeah, yeah—” the Child cut himself off with a yawn, shoulders hiking up slowly.

He shuffled back to the bean bags and collapsed into the one he’d been sitting in. He curled into a ball, huffing a small sigh. Patton yawned, too, and smacked his lips. Logan had to stifle a yawn himself. They were contagious.

It had been a long day. They were due for a sleep, especially after the arduous experiences they’d had throughout the day.

“Y’know, I didn’t think the Playwright’d let y’all in,” the Child’s words jumbled over each other, and he covered his mouth as he yawned again.

“What makes you say that?” Logan pressed.

Despite the tiredness, he knew there was something wrong with his initial read of the Playwright, and this situation didn’t leave space for those kinds of errors. The Child shrugged. “I….from what I know, he’s more….he likes things done his way. He really wants all of you approve of him. Mostly mister Logic, but all of you. And he really, really, really doesn’t like Princey. Him an’ Dragon an’—an’—” the Child yawned again, mumbling the rest of his sentence incoherently, but Logan didn’t process that.

There was another mention of this “Dragon” character. Logan rubbed his cheek, arms crossed on his knees as he ran the new information through his mind. The Playwright was volatile — he scoffed quietly, of COURSE Roman, with his boisterousness and exuberance, wouldn’t be able to contain his energetic nature into something reserved and quiet. He had his quiet moments, but he couldn’t maintain stoicism forever. They would have to assess him again, it seemed.

“I thought….” Patton whispered, and Logan looked up at him.

Patton’s eyes were downcast at the ground, brow furrowed in anguish. He’d thought they’d gotten at least one part of Roman, one bit to understand that they were accepted. That Roman was LOVED, damnit, because that’s what it was! He was loved, Roman was loved, and by God it felt like he’d failed if one of his friends doubted that so much that he couldn’t believe that.

“I’m gonna sleep. Just right here. Y’all can take the bed if y’all want,” the Child’s voice slurred together, halfway asleep already and cutting into both adults’ trains of thought.

Patton sighed. He slowly switched into Dad Mode as he pushed himself up and rolled his shoulders. “Nope. You’re a growing boy, kiddo, you’re goin’ in the bed.”

He stooped down and picked the Child up, chuckling quietly as he groaned in dramatic despair. Still, the Child wrapped his arms around Patton’s neck lazily, snuggling against him once more. Logan crossed his legs on the bean bag and watched as Patton sat on the bed, rubbing the Child’s back, and tried to pry him off.

“You need to get in bed, kiddo,” Patton whispered gently, “You’ve gotta sleep. A prince needs his beauty sleep, right?”

The Child giggled. “I’m not a–a–a,” he yawned again, “A prince! I’m a child!”

“But you’re gonna grow up to be one! You’re gonna grow up to be a great prince, ruling over all the Imagination,” Patton was whisper shouting, putting on a grandiose voice full of gusto.

He mimicked blowing a trumpet with one hand and the Child laughed, patting Patton’s hand down.

“Nuh uh!” he hummed between tired giggles.

Logan stood up behind Patton and gently took the Child’s hands. The Child looked up at him, squeezing Logan’s hands sleepily and giggling.

“You will be a valiant prince,” he lifted the Child’s hands away from Patton, and he took the cue to start tucking the Child into bed, “You will be a prince, lion-hearted and loved. But tonight, you must sleep.”

The Child squeezed his left hand, then his right, and laid down in the bed he’d been placed in. He looked so comforted as Patton pulled the blanket up higher around his face, big brown eyes questioning as he looked up at Logan from beneath the edge of the blanket.

“Will they listen to me?” his voice was thick as he teetered between unconsciousness and lucidity, “Will–Will they care, when I’m a prince?”

Logan nodded at him, and Patton nodded too. They were both sure, sure as the sky is blue. “Yes,” Patton whispered, “Everyone will hear you. And you’ll live happily ever after, my Prince.”

The Child giggled quietly. Slowly, he snuggled into the bed, and his hold on Logan’s hands relinquished, now gripping the blanket as he curled into a ball. Within mere seconds, he was snoring softly.

Patton stepped back and stretched. He looked up at Logan, who was removing his glasses in preparation for sleep.

“Wanna sleep on the floor?” Patton asked, “Or should we stack the beanbags in a square and use those as a bed?”

Logan considered the bean bags for a moment, actually, before deciding the morning back pain wouldn’t be worth it. “I think we can suffer the floor for a night,” he said, taking his coat off and spreading it out on the ground.

Patton followed suit, throwing his cat cloak down and spreading it out like a bed mat. They both slowly climbed to the ground beside each other, fitting themselves into the space that was to be their sleeping mat, grabbing some of the pillows and stuffed animals strewn about. At least the carpet was soft, adding extra padding. They both laid down, heads resting on some of the Child’s pillows, staring up at the stars on the ceiling.

Though they were both tired, Patton wanted to clear one thing up before letting himself drift off.

“....Lo,” Patton asked, voice soft. “Lo, are you awake?”

Logan sniffed. He was actually partway asleep already. “Yes, Pa—er. Patt.”

Patton giggled. It wasn’t always that he got to hear Logan call him by a nickname. He sobered up fast, though. “Did you mean what you said? About…about appreciating the childish things.”

Ah. Logan opened an eye. Patton smiled sheepishly at him.

He still had his glasses on. Logan turned to his side, facing Patton, reaching a hand out and taking his glasses off carefully. He slowly folded them and set them aside on the ground, with his.

“Of course I did. You provide important opinions and insight, often noticing details I….overlook,” Logan rested his hand on Patton’s shoulder, “You are appreciated.”

Patton beamed with a wobbly lip, more tears threatening to spill over. He slowly took Logan’s hand and pressed it to his lips. Not in a kiss, per se, but more to hold him close. To show that he was so thankful, so grateful for this acknowledgement. Plus, he was afraid that the tears would spill if he opened his mouth.

Logan didn’t seem to mind, though his face did turn a brighter shade of crimson, just barely visible in the starlight.

After a few seconds, Patton regained his stability. “Thanks,” he whispered. “We...we’re gonna get Roman back.”

Logan nodded, discombobulated. Patton’s breath on the back of his hand was comfortingly warm. There was that feeling in his chest. What was that?

He let go of Logan’s hand and rolled back onto his back, letting out a sign of contentedness. Their little prince was fast asleep and the next day would bring more trials. They had to find Virgil and Deceit and hopefully the Roman who’d been on the roof. They had to talk to the Artist. They had to confront the Playwright. They had to find the OTHERS and talk to THEM.

And Patton knew they’d be able to face it all head-on. He knew it in his heart. “Goodnight, Lo’. I love you.”

Logan exhaled beside him. Perhaps….things would be okay. He looked over at Patton, whose eyes were already closed, legs crossed and hands interlaced on his chest in a peaceful manner.

There was that feeling again. The data points — he was too tired to be thinking coherently, look at him, applying statistics knowledge to emotions of all things — indicated that he felt warm and fluttery near his lungs whenever he considered the other Sides. It felt as though his lungs were clenching, breathing constricting and carbon dioxide exhalation warming. That couldn’t be literal, though, or else he’d be ill. On this particular adventure, in this particular day, it’d happened a few times.

Perhaps he was just tired. It had been a long day, all of this just in one day. Logan would consider this issue more in the morning. However, he would indulge in the working hypothesis just once, whilst muddled in this warm-chested comforting confusion. “....I love you, too, Patt. Sleep well.”

It may have been a trick of the light or his mind, but Logan thought, just before he closed his eyes, that he’d seen Patton smile at him.

[davids-cartoon-corkboard]

Do you think Donnie will turn to the dark side and betray his bros? That’d be pretty cool and heart wrenching. Also a great device for the development of the Bros relationship.

(This is the blog’s very first ask! Thank you!)

I don’t think Donnie would ever outright flip his lid and say “forget you guys, I’m gonna go live with my evil dad now”. He loves his family and also he’d be at risk of getting thrown off a roof.

Buuuuut Draxum has a lot of powerful magitech. A situation might arise where the turtles need to get some of it to stop a bigger threat. The Shredder, for example.

Draxum has no doubt increased security since the turtles jacked up his lab in the first episode. They won’t be able to sneak or force their way in. So how do they get Draxum to let them in?

Remember, Draxum isn’t being evil for evil’s sake. He genuinely thinks turning humans into mutants/yokai is the right thing to do, and that killing those who get in his way is perfectly acceptable.

My theory is that Draxum is the only one of his family left alive after humans killed all the rest. Because sheep yokai are animals, monsters, less than human, and hey, this one has a pretty good rack! And so a young Draxum watches them remove his father’s head and carry it away. Later it will be mounted on a wall as a conversation piece. A trophy. The kiddies will play ring toss on it.

The rise turtles, as a nod to the ‘87 cartoon, are comfortable walking around in public with minimal disguises. None of the humans give a shit, because New York is just Like That.

Right?

That won’t last forever. Mutants are animals, monsters, less than human. They’ll eat our children! Make our homes vanish! Wreck our china shops!

People are going to run from our boys. People are going to throw things at them. People are going to call them names. Agent Bishop is going to crawl out of the depths of Hell and try to pick them apart in the most painful way he can.

If the turtles need something from Draxum, they’ll be able to use this treatment (and his backstory) to their advantage.

Donnie alone will approach Draxum, because a single turtle is less likely to make him feel threatened. And Donnie alone will approach Draxum because Draxum will see his young turtle, the one that took after him the most from the start (arrogant cynical softshell genius), exhausted and frightened, with no weapon and a new scar beginning to form on his shell.

He’ll hear Donnie speak to him humbly and say “The humans have discovered us. We can’t go anywhere anymore without being attacked. We’re running low on supplies. None of us can sleep at night. They’re eventually going to find out where we live. The others think there’s a peaceful solution, but I know better, and I don’t want to die. Please, help me.”

If there is any heartstring of Draxum’s left to tug, that will be it. What a young Draxum wanted more than anything else in the world was for someone to help him when he was alone, and the Hidden City was a terrible place to grow up without help. These days he’s not soft, of course, but another mind put towards his project would be useful…

He lets Donnie inside, but doesn’t let his guard down.

It was mostly a trick, on Donnie’s part. Sure, humans have given them some shit, but they’re not in immediate danger. Donnie prepped for this deception. No sleep for a week, with difficult training and splashes through the sewer throughout. It took him ages to convince Raph to rough up his shell. But now he’s inside. And if he’s patient, he can get what he needs.

Donnie learns that the “Baron” in “Baron Draxum” isn’t just for drama- he actually holds some status in the Hidden City. Draxum brings back things he considers scraps and trinkets, and they’re unlike anything Donnie has ever seen. Magic has opened up a whole new field of study for him! Imagine what he could do if he had access to more of Draxum’s stuff! He might be able to get his hands on the thing he needs now… but his chances would be better if Draxum trusted him more.

He should stay a little longer.

Huginn and Muninn’s chatter provide a familiar level of background noise, but they’re wise enough not to bother Donnie- they only watch him, as Draxum commanded. They bring him food and medicine to help him recover. They’re quiet when he sleeps. They don’t poke at and accidentally break whatever he’s tinkering with. They recognize that streak of Draxum in him better than anyone else.

Donnie hasn’t been able to focus so well in- well, ever.

While watching Draxum work, he casually offers a suggestion -human gametes form like this, so if you tweaked the mutagen like that then they’d transition to yokai gametes more easily- and Draxum smiles, adjusting his formula. Later, Draxum monologues about Unified Runic Laws in Donnie’s general direction. Sure, Donnie probably shouldn’t have helped out with the whole evil plan thing, but knowing those Runic Laws is going to make the lair’s antimagic security system go from theory to reality!

Surely Donnie could learn even more if he stayed for another week or so.

Big Mama sends some of her minions to attack Draxum’s lab- more to annoy him than anything, but they knocked a couple of things loose. Instead of grabbing some gizmos and running off in the confusion, Donnie helped fight off the interlopers and solder some things back together afterwards. Draxum examines his handiwork. Precise, organized, efficient. “Well done” he says. “Thank you.”

Donnie could stick around for a bit more, couldn’t he?

Donnie’s been gone a long time, and of course he couldn’t take his bo or any communication devices with him. The rest of the turtles fear the worst. They try to “free” him. He “rejects” them. But that’s all right. It’s just a trick to get Draxum to trust him. Giving his brothers a few bruised scales is worth the artifact he has to bring back.

He tries not to think about how Leo ran off with a limp.

Baron Draxum is not a trusting yokai. But seeing how the boy’s eyes lit up at the slightest hint of praise, how much effort he put into whatever he worked on, how fascinated he is by the magitech under Draxum’s roof… it seems unlikely that he’ll just run off.

But just in case… a present. A test. Children like presents, right? And Draxum likes tests. He gives Donnie a glowing purple staff.

Now, Donnie had refused this staff in the first episode, back when things were simple and he still had his titanium bo. But now that he knows a bit more about magic, he’d really like to see what makes this one tick.

Leo’s sword creates portals through space. Why not have his twin’s weapon create portals through time?

While tinkering with the staff, Donnie accidentally flings himself into a future where he sees what will happen if Draxum continues to influence him. If he stays too long, he’ll never want to leave.

He meets his brothers, aged and weary over a thirty year gap. And he is reminded of the pile of notes and gadgets he has back at Draxum’s lair.

Leo is blind (Donnie was working on a flashbomb/curse combo).

Raph lost an eye (Donnie had scratched out some ideas for magical whirlwinds that selectively picked up the sharpest shrapnel).

Mikey’s arm is severed (a simple reversal spell, and his kusari-fundo turned on him and sawed it off).

April is cold, so different from her bright and vibrant teenage self. She leads what little resistance there is, and used up all her warmth to try and keep hope alive.

They all buried what was left of Splinter ages ago.

Future!Donnie is Draxum’s right-hand turtle, his favored, only son, and if he can hold out just a little longer, Draxum will die (of old age or of coup, Future!Donnie could go either way), and he’ll be in control, and he will fix the world, and make it as it should be.

Future!Donnie got Draxum’s praise, he got his trust, he got his knowledge, he got his artifacts, he got, he got, he got…

He got a swift kick in the teeth from his pissed-off past self.

Donnie is shaken. For how long had this mission been about him, at the expense of everything and everyone else? How much time had he spent listening to Draxum ramble instead of gain intel on the object he needed? How far had he been willing to go?

The ensuing battle leaves Donnie victorious… sort of. He’s the only one left alive. He doesn’t have time to process what he’s experienced, because the staff re-activates, and rockets him back to the present.

Donnie breaks it over his knee, takes the item he was after, and burns Draxum’s lab to the ground.

[bluephoenixdruidicprincess]

SPN 14x13, Lebanon (Yes, That One) -- Thoughts (Spoilers)

It's finally here, guys. The big 300. I've now seen 300 episodes of Supernatural. Phew...what a crazy ride its been. But let's dive into this, shall we.

I'm going to be a little different with this one. This is going to follow a little more of a recap structure. It's the big 300, so of course I had to change it up a little. As I recap this episode, I'll be inserting thoughts I have here and there. I will be recapping from memory so things might get a little out of order. It should go without saying but there will be spoilers. And keep in mind, this is just how I feel and how I interpret things. You may have a completely different interpretation and that's perfectly valid. These are just MY thoughts.

We open up with Sam and Dean in the midst of a hunt. A hunter friend of theirs died and Sam and Dean are trying to recover what was stolen from their friend as well as avenge him. They corner the murderer and in a really cringey fight scene, the murderer meets his maker. Typically, SPN fight scenes are, while not fantastically well put together, but at least put our heroes in a competent light. Honestly, I don't think I've seen such stilted choreography since season 13 in the vamp cave. But anyway, the murderer uses dragon's breath (which is essentially a flamethrower) to escape from Brothers Winchester and it sends them flying in different directions but apparently dragon's breath isn't that hot. Just a small little thing, but if you're standing that close to the fire, you should've had some burn marks, I'm just saying, at the very least, soot on your face. But whatever. Dean gets thrown across the room, Sam ends up on the floor with our villain monologuing to him and I'm uncomfortable with just how incompetent Sam appeared to be in this scene. The villain is monologuing and Sam is just sitting there and doing nothing. What happened to Sam's gun? Why didn't Sam sweep the leg or go for a gut punch? So many things he could've done to get the upper hand in the situation especially since the villain only had a sword. While swords can be very deadly, they're also easier to dodge as opposed to bullets or throwing daggers. But Sam just sits there in fear for a good 5 seconds (and 5 seconds is an eternity both on screen and in a fight) and Dean then shoots the guy and talks about the villain monologuing problem. I'm not mad that Dean got the kill or anything. I don't believe in "staning" culture but if you could at least have made Sam appear competent, that would be nice.

But with the murderer dead, Sam and Dean find out he has a lot of magical junk so they decide to take it back to the bunker. In the files, they find a magical pearl which apparently will grant your greatest desire. Obviously, the boys think, "this is great. Our greatest desire is to evict the douche currently residing in our nagen." But before this greatest wish can be made, we have to make a little side trip because one of the teenagers in Lebanon (the town where the bunker exists) stole the impala. Sam's all, "that kid is in danger, we gotta find her, there's dangerous shit in that car" -- and much to my annoyance, Dean is all, "how dare she take Baby, she better not hurt Baby". *Takes a deep breath* This is an aspect of Dean's character I find super irritating. This weird romance he has with the damn car. How he places the car above things that, realistically, are a little more important. Maybe he should be less concerned about Max scratching the car and more concerned about the fact you have a teenage girl you don't know (or barely know at the very most) in a car with deadly objects and deadly weapons. I get it, this is supposed to be a funny quirk of his and at one point it was but now it's been so overdone that it's more irritating than it is endearing. I really hope the show goes into Dean's character development, and approaches the car as a mirror of how Dean feels about his father and his childhood and as he grows to accept his father more, he'll eventually realize that just like he doesn't need his father, he doesn't need the impala. I'm sure I said something absolutely sacrilegious in the fandom but I'm not going to apologize for it. This whole obsession with the impala is immature and creepy and it makes me worry for Dean's mental health.

So they find the girl but not before the girl's actions releases a serial killer clown ghost (because in an episode dealing with past fears and insecurities, of course it's a clown). They kill the ghost but three of the teenagers see and therefore they get the "talk." And these three also appear to be seen as mirrors for Sam, Dean, and Cas. They weren't very subtle about it, let me tell you.

So after leaving the kids to process the information that the sounds you hear in your closet may actually not be in your head, Brothers Winchester arrive back at the bunker and try out this magical pearl. But behold! It would seem evicting au!Michael is not Dean's greatest desire because Father Winchester is yanked from the past (sometime before the pilot) and dropped into their time. And, I'm not going to say this a lot about this episode, but I like the cinematography used here. It was an excellent usage of the color red symbolizing Brothers Winchester's own repression and isolation they experienced from their father as well as John's revenge focused aggression, blindly lashing out at anything that moves even if it's his own children. And the scene was also shot in a very choppy way meant to be seen as a little confusing...also symbolizing the thoughts of confusion the boys harbor towards their father and much like the confusion John no doubt feels with the turn his life has taken.

Everyone eventually realizes what's up and they fill John in on what's been happening for the past 14 years. And it's a very nice, very touching reunion and then Momma Winchester shows up. John and Mary have a wonderful reunion kiss, its so beautiful. I completely understand how Dean got swept into the moment here. Witnessing something he probably only barely remembers from his childhood, thinking he'll never see it again, and there it is. And just like that it takes him back to a time when life was seemingly perfect. When he had hope, when he had dreams. His parents were alive, they loved each other, they loved him, he had an adorable baby brother. It gave him something he never thought he'd have again. And just the kiss in general, you know. Just so reminiscent of past lovers who never thought they would see each other again suddenly seeing each other and everything they used to feel all coming up at once. It was wonderful. Think Celine Dion, Its All Coming Back to Me Now and I think you'll have the tone of this moment nailed down.

But Sam and Dean leave these two to have their moment and Sam tells Dean there's going to be repercussions for this. Time travel is a funky thing. But they decide to have one family dinner and think about the consequences after that. Dean asks Mary for the ingredients to make her Winchester Surprise and John and Sam have a really touching moment. John feels the need to apologize to Sam about everything that happened between them. And Sam tells him it doesn't matter. Their fight happened a long time ago, he's put it in the past and moved on. Sam also tells his father that the biggest regret he has is never having the chance to say good-bye. Their last conversation being an argument and then Sam finding John dead on the hospital floor. This scene got me so choked up like you don't even know. I've been through this. Lost someone while we were on shaky terms, I never got the chance to say good-bye, so many things were left unsaid and I would kill for an opportunity Sam has here where I can finally tell that person it's okay and rectify the bad blood that occurred between us. And Sam acknowledges it as well. This opportunity he has right here and now is all he's ever wanted.

Sam and Dean go off to buy these ingredients but this is when they start noticing the time travel problems. The future is starting to change, but it's more of a ripple effect right now. They haven't changed yet, but time around them has and eventually the ripple is going to smother out and their new future will take hold. Sam calls it a time paradox. And because of the paradox, we're treated to season 4 Zachariah and Castiel. But in regards to Castiel here, it's important to note that he's more pre-season 4. He hasn't delved into hell yet to get Dean out so he doesn't really have any of those rebellious feelings yet. And no, I'm not going to quote THE Destiel line. In all honesty, I've come to hate the line. It's been over-used so much that it's basically lost all meaning to me. Fandom and canon just keep on poking at it, now it's just something I roll my eyes at whenever I hear it. I am sad that we got season 4 Zachariah. When they were saying we were going to get a different Zachariah, I was so hoping for a role reversal kind of situation but apparently the "different Zachariah" is meant to be interpreted as "different from season 13 au!Zachariah" who actually isn't all that different. PR is not show running, people. Take a grain of salt with everything they say. But the Wing Team is on a quest to find out who meddled with time. Even going so far as to threaten to murder a diner full of people. Thankfully, Sam and Dean stop that from commencing but are in a real shock that with this time paradox, it now means Cas is no longer the Cas they all know and love. That if John stays here, they're going to lose their best friend (in Sam's case) and potential lover (in Dean's case). But the scene plays out how you would expect it to. Zach is his usual douchey self and is giving Sam cancer just like he used to (good times, let me tell ya) but Sam remembers he has an angel blade on him and kills Zach. Nowhere near as badass as it was in season 5, but still cathartic. And next we get to see a re-creation of the tomb scene from season 8 with Dean and Cas in a match of fisticuffs. But this Cas has never met Dean so Dean really has no chance of reaching Cas. But Sam in some quick thinking rembers the sigil that will cast angels out and uses it. The boys make a break for the bunker and everyone gets filled in.

Sam and Dean realize that in order for everything to go back they way it was, they have to smash the pearl. Everything will be forgotten but everything will also revert back to the way it once was. Sam wishes there was a way John could remember everything but Dean tells him he prefers that John doesn't. John going back with knowledge of the future could change who they are and Dean doesn't want that change. He wants to be exactly who he is right here and right now which is just so much progress. John tells them to do it because if the timeline changes, Mary's resurrection could never have happened and she'll eventually disappear. Even though he's going back to a time where he will die, trading himself for Mary is more than worth it. He'd rather have Mary exist in the world and himself die as opposed to living the rest of his days without her. And maybe it's because I have so much Kingsom Hearts nonsense floating through my brain, even if he doesn't remember, this will have left a mark on his heart. It'll leave him feeling something even if he doesn't understand why he feels that way. Everyone has the family dinner they always wanted, John also apologizes to Dean for everything, he tells both of his sons just how proud he is of them, he and Mary have another moment and the pearl is broken. Father Winchester disappears and everyone is crying. Our most beloved Cas returns and remarks on why everyone is acting so weird and Dean tells him they have a story to tell him. I kind of wish we got to see them tell Cas but I understand why we don't. Story-Telling 101. Don't repeat information the audience already knows, instead, insinuate the character is being filled in off-screen. John wakes up in his time in the impala and remarks on the good dream he had and drives off to his dark future. And the episode ends.

So what did I think of this episode? Honestly, I'm of two minds on it. Narratively and character-wise, this was a really good episode. But structurally and production-wise, not so much.

It had a really good narrative, the acting was fantastic, but on a cinematic level, My Chuck, was this episode dull to look at. The directing was just extremely stilted, apart from John's entrance, I don't think there was a single scene I thought was visually appealing. The musical score was very bland. It makes me really sad that there was so much hype for this episode but so little effort put into the production of it. Of the milestone episodes, 200 is probably my favorite.

I also say this episode kind of faltered on a structural basis, as well. While I appreciate the use of the Lebanon characters, I feel like they were largely unnecessary for the actual plot. And when they were first pitching this episode to us last year, I was imagining the Lebanon townsfolk being more of a primary aspect of the episode. While I enjoyed the themes and the mirrors with the Lebanon element, I feel like this would've been a better structured episode without them and given the episode more time with the family reunion and the Wing Team.

But I do love the narrative themes in this episode. Choosing between your past family and your future family. Putting your past behind you and acknowledging yourself as an individual. I've seen a few posts lamenting about how they dislike that Dean didn't yell at John or anything along those lines and honestly, I feel like that's the point. Dean has grown past that. He's acknowledged that as part of his past and has moved on from it. We all have trauma we associate with our parents. And while yelling at our parents might make us feel better, will it really heal us? Will it give us what we really need? And that's the whole thing with Dean, isn't it? Want vs Need. Dean's greatest desire was never to face John again and tell him how much he hates him -- no, Dean's greatest desire was to face his father again and not see himself in his father. To realize he's become his own person that isn't his father and that he likes that person and he doesn't want that to change. That's what Dean wanted. That was the self-acceptance Dean needed and I'm really excited to see where this all heads for Dean as a character. Now that he's accepted himself, is he going to allow himself to be happy now?

Essentially, this episode was a beautiful episode about family, about the progression of family, about finding acceptance and forgiveness and being able to put it behind you and look towards the future and I thought that was extremely beautiful and well done. I'd give this episode a B+. Sadly, I do knock it down because of the production value.

[edogawatranslations]

999: Alterna (2) - Part 7, Chapters 7-9

Table of Contents | Previous: Part 7, Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Ace’s confession didn’t surprise me. In fact, I had seen it coming from a mile away.

He knit his brows, visibly dissatisfied with my apparent apathy, and continued speaking.

“To be precise, I merely led him to his explosive death. His name was Kubota, and he was one of my loyal employees. When we were investigating around the central staircase at the start of the game, I approached him and whispered, ‘The <DEADs> seem to function differently this time. Even if only one person scans on the device, the countdown will stop. We’ll meet up later. For now, go ahead and head through the [5] door.’ Too easy.”

“Why?” Akane whimpered.

“I had four reasons for killing Kubota. First...” Ace raised his index finger. “As I mentioned earlier, the number [9] plays a key role in the Nonary Game. If left alone, such an asset would eventually pose a threat to me. That’s why I decided to get rid of him in the early stages of this game.”

Next, he raised his middle finger. “Second. I also explained earlier, but I wanted to get my hands on the [9] bracelet in order to gain an advantage. And for that, he had to die.”

He stuck up a third finger. “Numbers aside, Kubota was nothing but a nuisance. He knew everything about my past—including what happened nine years ago. I had to silence him immediately, before he let something slip.”

Ace must have easily recognized the man by his eccentric hair and silver-rimmed glasses.

“And finally, his death served as a test,” he said, bringing up his pinky. “I wanted to check if this Nonary Game was the real deal, or just a stupid prank. So I convinced him to break one of the game’s rules and watched as everything unfolded.”

Dropping his facade, Ace sagged his shoulders and looked around at each of us in succession.

“That’s all I have to confess... What’s wrong? Why are you all looking at me like I’m the devil?” Ace pouted, not expecting our reactions. “You should be thankful. If I hadn’t killed Zero, all of you would be dead by now.”

“Ace, don’t say things that you don’t actually believe,” I responded with no hesitation. “You should know full well that the man in the captain’s cabin wasn’t Zero.”

Ace didn’t say anything. He simply shook unabashedly with laughter.

“Didn’t you say the axe was lying on the floor of the captain’s cabin, beckoning you to kill? The man couldn’t fight back because he was drugged. Everything was set up perfectly, just like when you killed the guy wearing Snake’s clothes—back then, the <REDs> were fixed by the time you returned to the large hospital room, and there stood the man, already paralyzed by anesthetics. You’ve been playing into Zero’s hands this entire time. Same goes for when you killed the man with the [9] bracelet. By controlling you like a puppet, Zero managed to kill Kubota, Nijisaki, and Musashidou—all without dirtying his own hands.”

Ace’s cheek twitched slightly. “What...? What did you just say? How do you know about Nijisaki and Musashidou?” He raised his voice as if throwing a tantrum.

I took out the photo we found in the captain’s cabin and presented it to Ace. “I doubt you realize it, but you’re standing on the far left here. Next to you is the man with the [9] bracelet—Kubota. Standing beside him is the man we found dead in the captain’s cabin. Which means the last man pictured here is probably the guy we found in the x-ray room...”

I flipped the photo over and began reading the memo on the back. “‘Praying for the success of the Nonary Project. With Nijisaki, Kubota, and Musashidou.’ Weren’t you the ones behind the Nonary Project? I wonder, isn’t Zero running this Nonary Game to exact revenge on the four of you?”

“Heh...” Ace chuckled, seemingly resigned to the truth. “I’m amazed you’ve figured all of this out. Indeed, including myself, the four of us were the minds behind the Nonary Project. Nagisa Nijisaki loyally served as my right-hand man. Teruaki Kubota was the head of research and development and handled all the technical aspects of the project. Kagechika Musashidou was a major shareholder in Cradle Pharmaceuticals who funded the whole operation.”

With a bitter smile plastered on his face, he continued his monologue. “Of course, we weren’t the only ones running the show. We formed a secret research team and recruited dozens of members. It was with their support that the Nonary Project came to fruition.”

Ace droned on, showing no signs of shame. “When I awoke in the third-class cabin, I discovered a message under my pillow. It read, ‘I know of your sins from nine years past. You shall suffer the same misery the children experienced back then. If you seek salvation, attain victory in this game.’ But I couldn’t just admit it. That’s why I... I can’t believe those were Nijisaki and Musashidou. I wonder if I’ll be the next to go...”

His eyes shot open, and with an unbelievable swiftness, he spun around and leapt towards the wall. He grabbed ahold of Lotus, and brought a familiar knife to her neck.

“I don’t wish to be killed here. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

A glint of madness shone from his eyes.

Chapter 8

“W-What are you trying to pull...!?” Lotus shouted as she tried to wriggle out of Ace’s grasp.

“I’m glad I grabbed this when I went back for Kubota’s bracelet. It’s irritating to be doing the same thing he did, but I’m left with no other choice. Why don’t we get along?”

“...What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve already confessed to everything, so why don’t you cut the act here, old man?” Seven tried convincing Ace.

“You don’t seem to get it,” Ace said. “Why do you think I confessed so easily? Obviously, you’re all about to meet your end here.”

“What...?”

“Now, Junpei. Input the answer and open the door,” Ace demanded, pressing his knife against Lotus’s throat. “Hurry! Do you not care what happens to this woman?”

He tightened his right hand. Blood began to trickle down Lotus’s neck.

“Fine... I’ll open the door. I’ll open it, so please, calm down.”

I walked over to the purple door and pressed the <ANSWER> button. This time, a number pad appeared along with the sound of the detonation device, instead of the keyboard that had appeared for previous questions. Did it want me to input the bracelet number of the murderer? That must’ve been why we were limited to one try. If we were allowed to guess as many times as we wanted, then we could exhaust all the different numbers until we got it right. This restriction prevented that possibility.

“Enough stalling. Open the door.”

What would happen if I input the wrong number? Our bombs would all detonate, and Ace’s plot would end in failure.

With a shaking finger, I pressed <1> on the number pad. The monitor displayed <OK> and the door opened.

“Everyone, hands up. Back away from the door,” Ace commanded.

With Lotus as his hostage, we had no choice but to follow his demands. Ace showed no openings. Even Seven looked frustrated, unable to find an opportunity to charge at him.

“Now, back off.”

We followed his instructions.

“Perfect. Just perfect. If you dare take one step, this woman’s life will disappear from before your eyes.”

Keeping Lotus restrained with his arms, Ace slowly maneuvered towards the door. Nobody could move. One look at Ace’s crazed expression made it clear that his words were no empty threat.

“This is farewell.”

When his back hit the door, Ace smiled in victory.

“Where you goin’?” Seven asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? I have the [9] bracelet in my possession. And now, Lotus is under my command. I can now open the final door.”

I ran the calculation in my head.

[9] + [8] + [1] = 18 1 + 8 = [9]

He was right. That was why he chose Lotus as his hostage.

“Lotus, you ought to thank me. You’re the only one who gets to stay alive with me.”

“Liar!” Lotus screamed. “There’s no way you’ll let me live! Once we get out of here, you’ll just kill me, won’t you? It’s obvious! Just go ahead and—”

“If that is your wish, I don’t mind cutting off your hand right here and now. I don’t need you. All I need is your bracelet.”

That statement was all it took to hush her up.

“We’re out of time. We’re going.”

With those as his parting words, Ace slipped through the open door.

The door shut with a thud, blocking their figures from our line of sight. All we could hear from the other side was the echo of rushed footsteps and Ace’s laughter.

The rest of us bolted to the door and left the room.

However, Ace and Lotus were long gone.

Chapter 9

The game is approaching its end.

Will everyone be able to safely escape?

...Will I?

Next: Part 8, Chapters 1-2

[mandaloriangf]

reasons why detroit become human makes no goddamn fucking sense beyond just the shitty allegory (aka i nitpick the fuck out of this game)

captain allen refuses to give connor any information about daniel despite this being a hostage situation and connor is there to diffuse it

also allen says that if connor doesnt take care of it he will and if he could why didnt he??

connor can reconstruct crime scenes with so little information that theres no way he could come to his deduction. for example in the first chapter he figures out that the father was holding something when daniel shot him despite there being NO WAY he could know this

theres segregation despite the fact that androids are servants to humans??? how are androids supposed to work for humans if they’re barred from entering certain places??

TEMPORARY PARKING????????????

unemployment is at 35% yet the economy is booming????

unemployed people blame androids for stealing their jobs despite the fact that androids did not get a choice and were made to do certain jobs. their anger should be directed toward cyberlife

markus shows emotion and has a distinct personality before becoming deviant like why does he even need to become deviant when he clearly already is??

carl’s on the nose monologuing. 

carl says lets see where we left off and when markus takes down the tarp theres a finished painting. carl makes like five strokes lol. 

he also makes the same “oh my god” no matter what markus paints

PRESS X TO SADNESS

how does todd afford kara and alice when he doesnt have a job

and why does he live on ethan mars’ street 

and the biggest issue - ALICE IS AN ANDROID??????????

seriously how do android children work? whats the point???? if people hate androids why would they pay money to take care of one????????????????????

honestly how do they work? because alice can sleep but she doesnt eat????? and shes not gonna age so what happens to child androids? do they just have their memories wiped and get bought by another parent????

and if alice is an android, why does todd say kara needs to help with alice’s homework? she doesnt go to school! its addressed in the same fucking chapter!

and why doesnt alice saying anything to kara like hey stop trying to ask me if i want food i dont eat because im a fucking android

also kara figures out that alice is an android at the very beginning yet just ignores it?? i guess??????

and alice has a picture in her keepsake box of todd, his wife, and his biological daughter?? why???????? kill me

todd leaves his drugs in the laundry detergent, makes kara do the laundry, and then gets mad when she finds the drugs

HE MAKES HIS ROBOT TURN ON HIS ROOMBA LSAKDJFLKSJDFLKJSDF

no one does anything when connor enters a bar that doesnt allow androids

also its never explained in game (i think) why connor does the coin trick. i suppose it can be up to the player (i see it as a nervous habit/fidget device but you could also argue its for recalibration)

no one checks the attic of carlos’ house??? and his android hid up there for THREE WEEKS????????????

connor is designed to work “harmoniously with humans” but they gave him a forensics lab on his tongue so he literally just puts blood in his mouth in a crime scene alsdjflsjflajsdlfjdlj

kara serves alice dinner and alice actually sits there but she wont eat BECAUSE SHES AN ANDROID

the guy that comes on the bus doesnt bat an eye when he sees an android in the human section of the bus (i almost threw up typing that)

leo can survive that????????

carl doesnt try to reason with the cops before they shoot markus

why do deviants self destruct in stressful situations? we dont know. we dont fucking know. 

connor can show genuine compassion to carlos’ android but doesnt seem bothered by it????

why is there such an extensive android scrapyard? first of all theres android resale shops (yuck) and parts are probably expensive, plus androids have existed for what? ten years at the most? theres no way cyberlife would just allow perfectly good android parts to be thrown away this makes no fucking sense

MARKUS CAN JUST PULL OFF HIS LED LIKE ITS A STICKER

A STICKER

seriously if its that easy whats the point? they already dress androids a certain way, why have the led except to know what androids are thinking? and if theyre thinking dont they have some level of free will?? (for example kara’s turns red when todd threatens her)

no one recognizes kara despite being a relatively common model like yeah she eventually changes her hair and clothes but she’s still got the same face lkadjfalsjdfljsdlfj

connor is unfazed when he’s shot but looks like he’s in pain when gavin punches him??? 

connor is able to get a confession from carlos’ android but can’t make small talk asdjflskjdfljdf

the whole chapter where markus finds jericho doesnt like have a lot wrong its just REALLY tedious

though the jump scares are stupid

ra9 is constantly referenced (particuarly in connor’s story) but doesnt go anywhere. at all. unless i missed something. but as far as i know its never explained who ra9 is. 

(i think its markus)

the deviant in the pigeon filled apartment is just chilling in the attic? why do androids always stay in the same place instead of escaping????

the androids in jericho are really just hanging out in an abandoned, rusting ship doing nothing. like theyre shutting down bc they dont have blue blood and incompetents but no one thinks to go get any until markus rallies them. 

also what is up with lucy? why does she talk like she can see the future

THE ENTIRE ZLATKO CHAPTER HAPPENS AT ALL

no seriously!!!!! you expect me to believe kara would just go to the address given to her by some random garbage collector android in the middle of the night which leads to a creepy house with a creepy guy with BLUE BLOOD ON HIS FINGERS who wants to take kara into the basement alone to remove a tracker she clearly doesnt have??????????????????????? she would’ve just booked it

KARA ACTUALLY GETS IN THE MACHINE AND IS SURPRISED ZLATKO IS GOING TO ERASE HER MEMORY

that android that says “whos the real monster” PLEASE MR CAGE MY NOSE IS SORE

connor just fucking breaks the window and jumps in alflskdjflskjfljsdljfkdsfljldsafskdf

putting hank under cold water sobers him up somehow

the game thinks it needs to spell out for me in actual letters on the screen that hank is suicidal despite the fact that you find him unconscious on the floor with alcohol and a gun AND he says he was playing russian roulette. 

connor petting sumo is cute but sumo looks like he’s from a ps2 game

markus magically develops the ability to “convert” androids so to speak. 

im telling you, he’s ra9

the whole eden club thing is very...icky

like the androids are literally put in tubes like wtf

the tracis have a relationship despite club policy of wiping memories every two hours

also im pretty sure they have the same face...?? why is this not addressed more 

hank hates androids but likes it when connor spares them?

kara, luther, and alice dont just stay in the car for the night

luther brings up that theres something off about alice but gets interrupted. this is not the first time it happens. it happens THREE TIMES in total before the reveal she’s an android

the jerrys break the windows like zombies and then are like “dont shoot we come in peace”

the carousel scene is cute but where did the power come from???

connor starts showing signs of deviancy but doesnt notice it??? and amandas just like “stop it” and does nothing about it saljdflsjdflsjkdf

markus does the fake phone call right in front of the person he’s calling

who brought the box up to the bathroom? was it the deviant that connor can interrogate???? explain pls

pick up the bag. carry the bag. put down the bag. open the bag. kill me. 

THEY GET OUT ONTO A WINDOW WASHING LIFT BUT THEN RAPPEL UP?????????????????

a giant screen that says rise as markus and north are going up the building

markus removes his skin for the broadcast (ew) to conceal his identity BUT IT REVEALS HIS SERIAL NUMBER THAT CONNOR LATER SCANS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

north straight up wants to murder other androids for android freedom

no one finds simon on the roof unless connor goes up there

no one hears connor and the deviant fighting in the kitchen and no one hears connor calling out for help

rose is literally just 2038 harriet tubman

she compares what is happening to androids to what happened to black people in the past yet david cage expects me to believe this game isn’t about racism

kara believes that they will find refuge in canada because there are no android laws there, however the reason they dont have android laws is because CANADA HATES ANDROIDS JUST AS MUCH AS THE US

she has literally no reason to believe they’ll be able to survive in canada. theyd have to act like the cullens and move around all the time. 

ntm if androids and their parts aren’t being manufactured, if anything happens to kara, alice, or luther theyre fucked!

markus had to choose between two very black and white options: violence or pacifism. i have a HUGE problem with how this is done bc being peaceful results in the “good” ending while being violent results in the bad “ending 

(and for the record, going with a violent revolution can still result in freedom for androids. its just a LOT harder to keep everyone alive)

basically it completely misunderstands how real life oppression works and assumes that if a marginalized group is peaceful, public opinion will go up

thats not how it fucking works dipshit cage

kamski is literally just a weird combination of oscar isaac in ex machina and jared leto in blade runner 2049

like he’s left so ambiguous that you can’t even come to your own conclusion

connor can remark that chloe is pretty and seems sincere but doesnt question himself????

if you choose not to shoot chloe, you get nothing. you either have to replay the chapter and shoot her or look it up yourself. and im not fucking shooting her.

markus and north become “lovers” during a normal conversation 

seriously. when it happened my mom and i were like ???????????????

yet markus can’t romance simon despite having more chemistry

and on that topic why can’t kara romance luther???? they have a lot of chemistry too.

the freedom march. just. ugh.

like markus really leads a bunch of androids down a street shouting “EQUAL RIGHTS” lkjasldfjlakjfjldf

markus evolves to the point where he can just look at androids and convert them like what

north and josh clearly both have a death wish

if i have to hear “we were going to crack the case” one more time i will kill david cage myself. do cops even talk like that?

gavin just straight up tries to murder connor????

THEY START PUTTING ANDROIDS IN CAMPS?????????????????? AS IF THE REST OF THE GAME WASN’T BAD ENOUGH????????????????????????

kara finds out alice is an android and luther has to spell out all her feelings for her??? like why would she stop loving alice skalfsjdlfkjdlfj theyre both androids

the fact that connor even has a machine story line

carl just straight up dies while markus is venting about his oppression asdjfsjflskjflkejiofjeijfoejflkjsflsj

we dont get any kind of resolution to connor going deviant. he just suddenly is. how does he feel about it? who cares!

“ask us something only the real connor would know”

why is that human couple with the baby so upset about not getting out of detroit? theyre human. they’ll be fine. i feel no guilt in taking their tickets.

alice can arguably forgive todd as he explains he just wanted to prove he’s a good dad. boo hoo. he’s still a dick. 

connor can suddenly wake up androids too???? 

markus can really save the androids by kissing north or singing. 

like

that actually

happens

KILL ME

the president looks like hillary clinton but has a “was a celebrity with no political experience” trump like background

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 104 Thoughts

Hey Galliard.

Hey. Hey. Galliard.

LET’S SEE YOU GRIT THOSE TEETH.

We’re reaching the end of this arc segment, and I think the relief is making it a little easier to appreciate all the things happening. ...I mean it would, if anything remotely positive were still going on in this world.

Wait, Falco’s alive.

Okay team, there’s still hope.

I’m still having trouble working out why all of this is the chosen strategy. Paradis has caused an incredible amount of destruction, and disposed of most of the top brass, so looked at from an Us vs. Them situation, as long as the Scouts and Eren make it out okay, this is a pretty successful operation. It’s going to take some time for Marley to chase after their island with all the devastation.

What’s the score? The harbor, a bunch of surrounding cityscape, plenty of the interment zone, most of their top brass, and... let’s call it four Titans.

The frustrating part is that I’m having a really difficult time working out the scale of it all. In every section of this battle that we’re shown, Paradis has won somewhat easily. But I don’t know how large Marley is. Magath and Willy are willing to offer up the internment zone and all of the talking heads inside of it in order to gain allies in their offensive. They were ready for Eren. They were not ready for their Titans being out of reach, and they were not ready for Armin.

Since Eren’s decision to play along as the villain of Willy’s story, I’ve been sulking and wondering what the endgame is. What’s the point of playing right into Marley’s publicity stunt? What’s the point of making yourselves look so bad when your only contact with the outside world has been self-defense?

Reading this chapter, it’s hard not to think, “what’s the point of standing back when you know you can win?”

(Even though they’re all so very screwed if their escape blimp plan gets derailed. Like. Their eggs have 1 (one) assigned basket. And Eren’s already nearly died several times during this mess. Dun dun dun.)

And I’m not sure how much of that is a sign that Paradis has landed a fatal blow against Marley, and how much is just... here’s where our focus has been. In a very tiny corner of the world, Paradis has the upper hand.

Marley, unlike the rest of the antagonistic world, fights wars with Titans. The lowercase ones too. In this battle, they have lost two of them, one with the unique ability of controlling ravenous hordes of cannon fodder, one with the unique ability of making very kickass weapons.

What they’re left with is Reiner, Galliard, and Pieck. None of them in a state where they are a dominant force.

Magath wants Marley to enter a world where their military strength isn’t determined by Titans, but you can’t change that overnight. Their greatest trump cards have all been beaten or stolen away. In terms of Titan strength, Paradis wins right out. Marley has the numbers to win a siege war, but that isn’t the war being fought at the moment.

A few things are happening with this battle. One (the most annoying, being something Willy and Magath plan to exploit), Paradis is doing a fantastic job of selling themselves as the demons everyone calls them. Two, they’re making it clear who wins in a battle of Titans (however dicey things are during the fight, Paradis is leaving (hopefully) with three of Marley’s Titans horrifically maimed, one MIA, but presumed dead, and one actually dead). Three, they’re leaving a country that the whole world has bad experiences with in a very vulnerable position.

Marley might be putting work into making Paradis the scapegoat, but the night they declare war Paradis stomps every weapon they have faith in. Ambassadors from other countries get along with Willy, less so with Marley. One night of sympathy for the Eldian plight their buddy Willy has gone through isn’t going to change that.

The hope in the aftermath of this might be that Paradis has proven itself too dangerous to be left alone, so other countries will gladly work with Marley to stamp them out of existence, but... I’m wondering a little if those other countries might be more interested in wiping out their known enemy before turning their attention to the island. Marley has zero good will built up.

Ugh, I don’t know. Thinking about all the different ways people could respond to this makes my head hurt. Especially since Paradis does have links with other countries now, and that makes it harder to get the Beauty and the Beast mob song going.

And again there’s the question of scale. Which is really just me questioning how many Erens Armin just pulled, and how many Erens it would take duplicating to raze all of Marley to the ground. Armin’s feat is obviously destructive, but.

Fuck it, I want five pages of next chapter devoted to graphing out population and military personnel of Marley. With real numbers. The sixth page can provide Paradis’.

Has this operation hamstrung Marley as badly as their morale makes it feel like, or not? That’s all I want to know. Acceptable sacrifice vs. monstrous horrifying mass murder of horror is easier to parse out when the mission objectives and accomplishments are written in plaintext.

...It’s obviously going to end up being both anyway. I still feel really lost.

In character land, where things are slightly simpler, Armin’s having his own version of Eren and Reiner’s conversation. If Eren and Reiner are the same, so are Armin and Bertolt. That’s... oy.

I complain a lot about action chapters because I always feel like I just want to watch the anime version and get on with it without turning over every rock, but some of the complaining comes from really, really wanting to get back to the sad monologuing about feelings everyone in this series is prone to indulge. Hell, pull a Naruto and let everyone get a significant backstory flashback when it looks like they’re in mortal danger.

Armin’s from Shiganshina. Ground zero of this war. He’s one of a small percentage of people who lived through watching Wall Maria’s destruction. He’s standing right there when everything their people have known is annihilated.

Bertolt also burns him to death. Basically.

Now Armin’s the one holding all that power in his hands. He kills people and takes away their homes just by taking a few steps.

The good news is that he knows he has an expiration date, so he can look forward to that instead of seeking therapy to help him later in life.

...

Yeah, there is no good news. Let’s pan back to Falco, who is breathing and somehow showing more signs of mental stability than Gabi.

Kid’s made of some stern stuff. If Eren’s betrayal doesn’t completely shatter him, he might be able to make a bright future for himself if he stays alive. He’s compassionate and doesn’t freeze in a crisis.

Unlike some people.

-cough- Jean -cough-

Nah, that’s mean.

From the looks of things, whether it’s Pieck’s interference or Jean’s own heart getting in the way, Jean’s mind was absolutely prepared to kill the little boy if that meant removing the Cart Titan from play. I don’t know if he tried to arrange a shot that would dodge Falco, but I do think that he accepted that there was a good chance the kid would die in the crossfire, and went for it anyway.

This series was so much happier when people were getting eaten alive.

-looks at rest of the chapter-

-rest of chapter looks back-

Well. You know what I mean.

I’m glad Pieck’s alive, even if it’s only for now. Truthfully, I don’t think I want any of the Warriors to die. Their lives have been hell. I want to think that someday, all of the Eldian kiddos get to breathe free air without being a tool of war. If they die, it’s just another footnote to a sad story.

Then we have Galliard, who.

..Yeah.

(btw

Does Titan inheritance run on some kind of lottery system, and does that matter?)

I thought Eren would be done horrifying me after the civilian slaughter. I mean, where else can we go from there? Dead children hit one of the highest tiers of tragedy. Maybe more of them will fall out of the cracks, and surely the psychological trauma of individuals like Reiner will continue to be bad, but we’re done with any of it being shocking.

...

.....

Eren’s a fucking tryhard.

Okay! Okay. Uh.

Points for... pragmatism?

“Aha, I have cracked the case, if not the crystal! Hark, I shall have Jaws crack the crystal, and I shall drink up this woman’s juices as they drip from his teeth while he silently screams at me to stop!”

Eren with the Jaw Titan in the Conservatory.

I mean. If you think about it.

I have been calling the Warriors tools for ages.

Eren using Galliard as his own personal nutcracker is really only the natural evolution of that.

Yike.

I’m surprised Reiner’s already up and about. It makes sense that it’s to protect Galliard (Porco is going to have so very many issues when he wakes up), because protecting people is the one thing the world hasn’t broken inside of him. Even after all he’s been through, he still wants to be the good guy, keeping his comrades safe.

But the dude’s dead inside. He has the strength to stand, but not much else, and I don’t know how the story can lead him into anything dynamic when he’s so screwed up.

Also of curiosity is... Eren’s perfectly willing to nom Galliard. Reiner shows up, gets punched maybe a building length away, is very obviously in no state to win any kind of fight, and Mikasa and Eren walk away.

All of the other Titans are removed during the festival by strategy. Pieck and Porco get dumped down a hole. Zeke is probably working with Eren, and he’s still escorted out.

Reiner gets a conversation.

Reiner’s participation in Eren versus War Hammer would have turned the tables. The only reason he isn’t part of it is because his conversation with Eren robs him of his final will to live.

So uh. ...Eren? Not to be rude or question your moral character or basic sanity... but... I don’t know... how, uh, on purpose is Reiner’s current emotional state?

...On a related note, is that your way of keeping him alive? ...Am I. Am I going to have to start shipping you two seriously?

This has the feel of something else I’m going to find easier to discuss in later chapters, but looking at the last few pages... Eren has the chance to kill Reiner and Galliard. He definitely has no problem nomming Galliard. What changes? Reiner caring about Galliard?

Eren easily could have taken out two of Marley’s Titans, and he chooses not to. It’s a decision Mikasa is either fine with or encourages. I don’t quite know what to make of her very excellent stoic face after Eren punches Reiner. She goes from that to zooming over all “Eren!” and... does that mean killing Reiner has been judged the wrong decision all around? What’s with the interruption, you two? Is that closeup of Eren’s eyes on the opposite page just there to look pretty, or is something going on?

Look, you’ve killed everyone else in the general vicinity, I’m allowed to wonder what makes this special. What, Eren can see his sparkling eyes when his face isn’t armored up and can’t handle the dokis?

Geez, this was a chapter.

Next month we get to see how great the great escape is--only guarantee is that there is no escape from the monsters in their heads.

...I’m with Mikasa. Can we go home now?