Who wants a post about 🎶spirit phones??🎶
lol, j/k who doesn't want a post about spirit phones?
So, me and my kid have just hit the Advance Team filler, specifically #128, the first of the episodes about the Whistle Hollow, and it gave us some really good looks at everyone's spirit phone, starting with Matsumoto's fantastically be-dazzled, magenta model. It looks a lot like a Motorola Razr or a Nokia 6133. I'm gonna assume she managed to get it in a premium color and then decorated it herself.
Next, we see Hitsugaya's, which is not quite the same model, because Matsumoto's has the square external display, and his doesn't. Are they different model years, or does he have some sort of fancy captain model?
I also think it's interesting that his display features an actual map (left), instead of this absolutely incomprehensible crap Rukia's phone gave her back during the Quincy Archer Hates You! Hollow Bait debacle (right).
Here's the real reason I made this post because what the Hell is that, Yumichika??? There were lots of slider phones available at the time, but you didn't usually hold them vertically like that. Is it a T-Mobile Sidekick? (I had a friend who had one of these and it was so extra)
As far as I can tell, Ikkaku does not have a phone, Yumichika handles the telephony in the relationship.
Renji is not in this filler episode for some reason, but we see his phone a few episodes later, in 136. It's pretty hard to see here, but there are some better shots of it back in the Bount Arc, and I think it's pretty clearly the same phone.
It looks pretty similar to Matsumoto's, but his has a light just below the external display that blinks and beeps to indicate Hollow activity. Also, it's lavender.
Rukia has already left for Soul Society at this point, but we got a good look at her phone in the Bount Arc, which appears to be the same one she had in the Agent of the Shinigami Arc, down to the Chappy charm on it.
It looks very similar to Renji's, including the blinky Hollow light. Hers seems to have a grid of dots below the light. I think Renji's may actually have that, too, but the animators were too busy lovingly drawing his tits and pretty braid to worry about air flow to his spirit phone battery. (I support your life choices, nameless Pierrot animator!)
Here's the interface to Rukia's phone, which is significantly different from Hitsugaya's.
Normally, I would accuse Hitsugaya of having some older or cheaper model of spirit phone, but his actually looks significantly nicer than everyone else's (except Yumichika). It definitely looks like Rukia and Renji have the same model (I keep going back and forth over whether or not they are the same color. Rukia's def reads as grey to me and Renji's looks more lavender to me but idk. Maybe it's a trick of the lighting). Matsumoto has a similar, but not identical model. I feel like my takeaway from this is that shinigami have to buy their own phones-- Matsumoto splurged a little on color, Yumichika splurged a lot on rizz, and Rukia and Renji appear to be at the mercy of Byakuya's family plan. I feel like Hitsugaya didn't even have a phone before this and bought one expressly for this mission, which is why his is nicer than it would otherwise be.
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So I was asked to expand on the whole Jamil having a trauma response to Leona comment on my last post, aaand here's that.
(This pertains to chapter 6 btw, so spoiler warning)
(also it's very much sleep deprived rambling so sorry if it's, well, rambly)
First off, I'm operating under the assumption that he has cPTSD. Jamil has clearly been programmed since birth to always obey the Asims and act in their best interests, even at the expense of his own life. This is a boy who has been forced to eat poison to protect them and their assets, who's family was forced to let that happen, and who has been so desperate his entire life to escape that situation that he was willing to resort to murder and doom not just himself but his whole family which he is implied to care about. Which means if simply quitting was an option, he would have done so. So, you kinda have to infer that he and his family don't have a choice in this role, and there are severe enough consequences for disobedience that fucking up or refusing is a worse option than risking a slow painful death every time Kalim wants to eat something. And this is all stuff that's been depicted blatantly in canon, not even touching on the assumptions that could be made from there.
So that's the position Jamil is in. That is a traumatic situation. This is a guy who has been groomed for servitude and obedience since he was old enough to talk. These kinds of circumstances absolutely can lead someone to be triggered into subservience or other trained behaviors. That's just, a thing with trauma.
Now, with the Asims being one of if not THE most powerful merchant families in their country, one of the expectations of Jamil as their servant and especially as the attendant to their heir is to ensure good relationships with other rich and powerful families, especially royalty. This was shown in the fireworks event, where he states that as a prince, if Malleus came to any harm under his watch while a guest of the Asims, it could start an international conflict. These are incredibly high stakes, a misstep on Jamil's part could ruin the Asim family and potentially even endanger his country, and it's pretty strongly implied that he and his family would take the blame and suffer the consequences. Now, much like how wearing a company logo while at work makes your actions representative of your employer, Jamil serving the Asims 24/7 (and especially as the chaperone of their heir) means that he is representing their family At All Times. This is why he is forced to defer to Kalim in all aspects of life even outside of their country, part of his job is to make his employers look good, and there are consequences for not doing so. This means that anyone of high enough status to be significant to the Asims is someone who Jamil is required to be subordinate to.
Then, enter Leona. As a wealthy prince, he would be someone who Jamil is expected maintain good relations with at any cost to himself. With his position Leona could literally destroy Jamil's (and probably his family's) entire life with a single complaint to the Asims about his conduct. Like, he could do that with no actual cause just for fun, because the Asims are 100% going to take the side of a prince over an expendable servant. This means that one misstep or any backtalk from Jamil puts him at massive risk, it is entirely up to Leona whether or not he suffers for any of these actions, and while the audience knows Leona's personal morals would prevent him from actually doing that, Jamil does not.
THEREFORE (sorry this ended up so long), once Jamil was in a life threatening situation with Leona, it seems likely that all this programming and fear would manifest in desperately trying to protect him and follow orders the way he's always done for Kalim. To me, the way he snapped into bodyguard mode, and immediately complied with every one of Leona's bitchy commands (like giving him a hair ornament to throw away without question, and barely saying anything about it after), even while being humiliated and knowing he was less trained in magic, just comes off more like a trigger response than anything. Especially because I can't imagine that situation not being triggering, and I can't imagine him knowing any other way to respond.
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Time Travel Temeraire snippet
At first, Laurence assumes he's dead.
It's a natural conclusion. He remembers dying, after all.
He and Tenzing were at a function hosted by Wellesley. They were mostly there to support the dragons. Temeraire had long abandoned them to quarrel with Perscitia in the courtyard, with half a dozen ferals watching like it were a jousting match. Wellesley had laid out his grounds to allow room for dragons and men to mingle, but a good portion of the guests retreated inside to avoid the raised voices of the dragons.
Laurence wonders how Temeraire felt about that, later. About not seeing.
He was stabbed. He barely remembers it – just a quick pulse of pain in his chest, looking down. Red blooming over his coat.
Then he was on the floor. People screamed. Tenzing appeared, grappling with a tall and finely-dressed man; he used a dinner-knife to punch a hole in the stranger's throat, in a fantastic spray of blood, and dropped the body at once to kneel by Laurence's side.
He remembers Wellesley barking orders – bandages, water, a hot knife. Have to cauterize it, he'd shouted. Keep pressure -
But Tenzing never spoke. Just pressed down on Laurence's chest, over the wound, without particular panic. Laurence still remembers the grim resignation on his face; Tenzing knew what was coming. Laurence was glad to have him there when he died.
Then Laurence woke up.
The world sways in a familiar way, a rhythmic motion that Laurence registers on a soul-deep level. He's on a ship. But why? Where is Tenzing, Temeraire? Why would they put him on a ship?
“I think the fever's breaking,” says a voice. A naval doctor, disheveled and salt-stained, with long scars down his bared arms. “Oh, and awake too!”
“Well thank Christ,” says another man. One Laurence recognizes.
It's Captain Gerry Stuart – but he looks different, younger than the last time Laurence saw him, with smooth skin and dark curly hair.
Gerry died two years ago.
“Well, Lieutenant! You gave us a scare – how are you feeling?” Gerry asks.
“It's Admiral,” Laurence corrects rather than all the other things he does not dare ask. He hates the title foisted upon him; but it's at least more comprehensible than Lieutenant, and he clings to that rather than demand where did you come from.
Stuart throws back his head to cackle, though the concern doesn't leave his face. “Still perhaps a bit feverish, I think!”
“That might be the laudanum,” says the doctor, also amused. “Why don't you sleep a bit more, Lieutenant?”
“But where is Temeraire? Or Tenzing?”
“I can only assume you had some very vivid dreams,” Stuart chuckles. “You were babbling and babbling for Temeraire – isn't that a ship?”
“Perhaps the flagship of his fleet,” suggests the doctor, and Stuart laughs again. “Get some rest, Mr. Laurence. Holler if you need me.”
They both exit the sick-berth. Laurence stares blankly at the door.
What?
Laurence pats his chest. No wound. He looks down, startled by the pale thinness of his fingers, his youth-soft skin.
Well; not soft. Callouses cover his hands. But even these patterns are different – hard skin in places where he would hold a sword, or pulls ropes. His hands should be more wrinkled, yes; but these callouses faded years ago.
“Where am I?” he asks when the doctor returns. “And what is the year?”
“The year? 1793. You don't remember?”
1793. Laurence was 19 in 1793. A lieutenant for two years, on the Shorewise.
The doctor narrows his eyes. “What's my name, lad?”
Laurence swallows. His stomach churns; for the life of him he can't remember.
The doctor rushes off to retrieve the captain.
_____________________________
Laurence is diagnosed with brain fever, and partial amnesia. Gerry is horribly guilty about laughing, earlier; Laurence could not care less. He is given strict orders to stay on bed-rest for another week, in hope his strength will recover – and his mind.
Laurence doesn't think he'll have any issues working – he's forgotten many of the people around him, true, but he may never forget the way to run a ship. He's far more concerned with learning what happened.
From all appearances, it is indeed 1793. France is undergoing riots, and declared war against Britain in February. Temeraire has not hatched. Napoleon is probably a corporal or general himself, at this point. If he exists at all. God knows, perhaps Laurence is only mad.
But he doesn't feel mad. His memories are too vivid to be mere fever-dreams. A man cannot dream up twenty years of life!
But neither can a man go back to his youth, and live it all again.
I have a dragon, he thinks of saying. There is no war, because I captured Napoleon – an unknown man who makes himself emperor.
Mad. It sounds mad even to Laurence himself. But to imagine that Temeraire was a fever-ridden dream... Tenzing and Granby and China, all of it...
Laurence doesn't share his turmoil with anyone – not even with Gerry, who checks on him fretfully. After a week the doctor declares him well enough, physically. He's paired always with another lieutenant for the first few days on duty, and his shipmates watch him carefully for signs of permanent debilitation; but aside from a moment or two of hesitance, Laurence competently resumes his duties. The oversight lessens.
Laurence thinks about writing letters.
He thinks about writing to Tharkay's late father, who ought to still be alive, inquiring after his son. He thinks of writing to Prince Mianning, asking about the health of Lung Tien Qian. He thinks of writing to young Midshipman Granby, his unwed brother, his dead father...
Not all of them would reply. But he could ask questions. Could verify the truth of things. Unless this, instead, is the delusion.
Is he in 1793, imagining the future? Is he in the future, imagining the past? Or maybe he is already dead, and this is the reality of hell. He came here burning with fever, and now he burns with fear. Surely that is it's own form of torture.
Laurence is ironically given the task of tutoring the midshipman and lieutenant-hopefuls more than any other duty as the weeks pass; his crewmates still look askance, and the more eager of the midshipman become protective. Laurence remains perfectly capable of command; it is only that he can't help but be absent-minded, sometimes, staring at all the crewmen that pass him like they are nothing but moving paintings. Images of a world that no longer matters.
One evening the midshipmen drag him away to a meal with the other officers. It's a noisy crowd; Laurence would find the friendly bustle comforting in another life.
One of the senior officers, Lieutenant Moore, waves him down as Laurence enters. Evidently they used to be friends, given his notably concerned behavior of late. Laurence can't remember the man, and has a sneaking suspicion he died too soon to make a lasting impression.Moore jostles him when Laurence sits at the long table. “Will! Did you get any letters with the last batch?”
A patrolling gunboat brought a satchel of letters just this morning. “I did not,” Laurence says. He's grateful for the fact. He'd found a few pieces of correspondence in his quarters that he dutifully sent on; he cannot imagine writing a letter now, in this confused state.
“Then you've had no news! Robespierre has gone mad. Madder than before, I suppose.”
“Robespierre?” asks Laurence blankly.
Lieutenant Moore double-takes, as does everyone else around them. “Good lord, Will, please tell me you remember Robespierre?”
Right... Robespierre's reign was brief, but this is when he led France. Some of the things the papers published...
Well, at least Laurence has a well-worn excuse for his ignorance. He plays up his malady: “Yes. I think I recall he was... French?”
Groans of horror mixed with amusement echo around the table. “...Well you aren't wrong,” says Moore, looking pained. “He has styled himself the 'President' of their Assembly, which is some stupid way of being king; the French are all mad about removing and adding words right now. I don't know how they expect anyone to hold a conversation.”
“We should... probably educate Mr. Laurence about the war at some point,” some midshipman mutters. Laurence doesn't recall his name.
Moore sighs again. “Anyway. Robespierre is a tyrant, of course. But he's elected someone else to rule France! Barely more than a boy, too.”
Laurence frowns; he doesn't remember what Moore's talking about. “Why would he do that? Did they capture one of the Bourbons?” Declaring himself regent of a child-prince would at least make sense.
“Well, at least you remember them. No; it is some nobody, a young soldier. Not even French! I cannot fathom it.”
It feels like Laurence has been dunked in ice.
For a moment he can't respond. “What was his name? The soldier.”
“Napoleon Bonaparte. He has been chosen as head of their new heresy, the 'Cult of the Supreme Being,' they're calling it; and now de facto head of the government, too. Must be a priest? I don't know, nothing the French are doing makes sense. I expect his little group will be as short-lived as everything else about these riots.”
But Laurence doesn't think so. “...Excuse me; I'm feeling a bit poorly,” he says, rising on wavering legs.
“Yes, you look it! Go on, we'll tell you about the war later...”
Laurence flees.
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