(Like, I'm forming it and I'm not sure where I'm headed here)
Spoilers All - TMP
So as I'm reading through a lot of Lena Post on here it's starting to strick at me. Her wording when she vaguely explained things to Gwen in EP 13, Futures.
Gwen asks if they're the bad guys.
Lena hesitates before answering "We are... Managing, the bad guys."
Unlike the The Magnus Institute they aren't collecting Statements, they're keeping track of them.
Lena doesn't see herself and her work as good, but a necessary evil.
This would make Lena NOT Jonah's Parallel, but Gertrude's.
To Gertrude, Michael was a necessary evil, but she hurt no more people than absolutely necessary.
Lena isn't willing to put her employees in unnecessary risk.
The Magnus Institute was destroyed and OIAR has something called The Magnus Protocol.
They're preventing the Dread Powers from taking hold. Be it Fear, Hunger, or Regret. They're making sure no one of them gets a real foothold into our world. And if one gets to close. Well, they have their last resort.
description: satoru and suguru write letters to their future selves, but the conversation gets off-tracked.
author note: hey, rewatched hidden inventory and that did hurt. so I wrote something. hope you like it, and tell me what you think :3
ao3 / masterlist
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“Satoru, you can’t write this!”, laughter carried over the complaint, Satoru’s pen clattering to the ground as his friend gripped the paper, eyes running up and down the letter hastily, violet eyes wide.
Satoru smiled, laughter dying slowly as he supported his head in a bored expression. “Why not?”, he asked just like a toddler, a frown creasing between his brows.
“You’re supposed to talk to your future self.” Suguru lectured, tossing the paper back at his blue-eyed friend. “Not write some random nonsense.”
Satoru sulked at the rejection of his letter. “Maa—why?” He let out a yawn, leaning back in an uncomfortable chair, the complaint echoing off the walls of their empty classroom.
“So you open it at graduation.” He reminded him, mumbling something incoherent at his letter. “Like a time capsule just with words.” Suguru pinched his temple, looking at his obnoxious, shades-wearing friend, who pulled a grimace.
“Isn’t this good enough?”, Satoru shook the piece of paper back in forth, the material sloppily folded into it self, scribbles and squiggles on the page. He looked annoyed as he pouted at it with no imagination.
Suguru rolled his eyes, returning back to his letter. “Just do it.”, he reprimanded, getting a murmur of complaint from the other, who rested his head in his arms, cupping his cheeks in thought, every now and then letting out a grumble or a shake of his head—the patience slowly running thin for Suguru who with a heavy sigh, smacked down his pen, shifting to look at his friend, bathed in the golden afternoon sunlight, handsome angles cut by the shadows.
“I don’t know what to write down.”, Satoru murmured, finally realizing the absence of his pen as he bent down to pick up the fineliner from the cold floor.
“Yeah?”, Suguru frowned. “Just anything, Satoru. Hopes, dreams…promises.” He talked animatedly, throwing his hands to the side to accentuate his point.
“Really?”, the other looks unbothered, blue eyes half-lidded behind his shades—slipped to the edge of his nose as he shortly rolled his pen back and forth on the table. “There’s nothing that comes to mind.”
“Yeah, for you.” His partner bit out, clicking his pen to continue writing. “Not for me. Now shut up.”, he ordered, taking their assignment seriously.
The silence was deafening as they settled, Suguru’s pen scratches and pauses, some sighs and hums. Satoru kept himself busy by looking out of the window absentmindedly, taking in the falling leaves of autumn. Birds were chirping, leaves were rustling and Shoko was standing in her secret corner, lighting her cigarette once again as she fiddle around with her fliphone, possibly texting them both to meet up.
“Let me help.”, Suguru spoke, catching Satoru’s attention again as he ripped out an empty sheet of paper for his friend, sitting closer now. So close Satoru felt his breath slightly dancing over his neck. “Write a dream. Something possible.”, he pointed at it, and the goosebumps under his simple T-Shirt stayed despite the black-haired distancing himself back.
Silence returned once again, Satoru repeatedly looking into violet eyes, before quickly directing them towards his empty sheet of paper, his lips parting as a question tumbled out.
“How about a promise?”, he spoke, hardly audible despite the silence, glancing into violet eyes once again, not wavering.
Suguru inclined his head slightly, a bit of satisfaction for getting through to him in his small smile. “Yeah, why not.”
The silence returned as Suguru returned to his task, neatly scribbling a few more words and dreams down as Satoru shifted over his desk. His head rest itself on his crossed arms as he leaned forward, cheek squishing slightly as he looked up at his currently writing friend, a deep thought flashing through his mind.
“Suguru.”, he called out, the other replying by turning his head from muscle memory.
“Would we still be friends until graduation?”
The question died like a plea in the stillness, Suguru’s eyes widening a bit, partially confused and baffled by the question, before crinkling slightly as he gave his answer. “Yeah of course.”, he shifted. “What type of question is that?”, he chuckled slightly to himself, quickly stopping his action as he realized Satoru was serious in the only way he could be. There wasn’t a smile on his face, just uncertainty in his lost blue eyes. There was a tinge of sadness in his expression as his gaze diverted towards the floor, following the lines of grain of the laminated wood, trying to avoid his eyes in insecurity.
“Yeah, thought so.”, he mumbled into his arms. “And maybe not just until graduation.”, he paused. “Past it, forever.”
Suguru took a long glance at his friend, his eyelashes catching every ray of light as he fluttered them shut, exhausted by the thought, or the vulnerability. His lips parted to give an answer, yet the words got stuck in his throat, choking as he scrambled for words.
“Look, I don’t know what the future holds. But it better be great.”, he let out slowly, his arm resting on the desk, looking at his friend who hadn’t opened his eyes.
“Am I in it?”
Suguru wasn’t sure if he heard it write, so mumbled and quietly said into the space.
“What?”, he asked gently, praying Satoru wouldn’t deflect it.
“Am I in it?”, he said louder, eyes fluttering open slightly, not being able to look into violet eyes once more.
Stillness engulfed them, and Suguru’s mouth dries as he tried to say it out loud. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, and he did it with such softness, not wanting to scare Satoru.
“Why would you not be?”, he exhaled slightly, a bit breathless by the question. “You’re my best friend.”, he stated, not a lie behind it. “And there’s not a thing that could stop me from being yours.”
Satoru’s eyes snapped towards him, weighing his words. “Do you promise?” He asked, not blinking as he stared into Suguru, who looked slightly taken aback at the question.
He stayed silent, a sign. He didn’t want to promise it, for promises are easily broken. His hand fisted itself as he stared straight ahead onto the chalkboard with numerous kanji writing all over it. And he didn’t want to break a promise, rather not make one on something that is not defined in the future. But it was Satoru.
“Suguru…?”, Satoru trailed off, slowly raising his head a little bit in disbelief and shock, as if horrified by the lack of faith and hope.
His friend’s lips quivered, before being bit, his violet eyes didn’t dare find his best friend, fixated on his sheet, now suddenly meaningless in the conversation. His eyes squeezed shut tightly, before snapping them open, looking Satoru straight in the eye, forcing a smile with not as much honesty as his next words allowed.
Anyways,the reason why we no longer have an agreed upon aesthetic of what the future should look like isn't because of apocalypticism; it's because modernism--which during the nineteenth and twentiety centuries, seemed utterly inexorable, like a train going in only one direction, foreclosing all other possibilities--is basically dead. Like, if you look at the stereotypical "future" in 20th century sci-fi, it was basically just the same thing that they were doing at the time, only Moreso. *Taller* skyscrapers! Personal *aircraft* instead of personal automobiles! Rockets to the moon, just like getting on a jumbo jet to Amsterdam! And anyway, we've reached the end of that--we're past even the Cyberpunk version of "what the future should look like"--and because there's no obvious "right" answer, no one can agree on what it should be.
Anyways, for my money,the future needs to look like a garden.
