#“this is the reason for my life and the reason i die”

[solxamber]

stay w me in this one, kiss cam w the first years 🙂‍↕

Kiss Cam with: The First Years

a/n; anon you brain is so big!! i got so happy??? when i saw this?? i kinda blacked out for a while and ended up writing it

Ace Trappola

The arena was packed, the air buzzing with energy as the Magift team dominated the field. You were sandwiched between Deuce and Ace, the latter chugging a soda while obnoxiously yelling at the players.

“Ace, they can’t hear you,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as he yelled, “PASS THE DISC, YOU IDIOT!”

“I don’t care! They need to know how bad they’re screwing up!” Ace shot back, waving his drink wildly.

Deuce leaned over, clearly mortified. “Can you not embarrass us in front of the whole school?”

Ace just smirked. “What? Embarrassed to be seen with your cooler, more handsome best friend?”

You snorted. “Handsome? In your dreams, Trappola.”

Ace turned to you, feigning offense. “Oh, so I’m not handsome? Guess I’ll have to let the kiss cam settle this one.”

“What does that even mean?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

As if the universe decided to spite you, the lights dimmed, and a giant heart frame appeared on the jumbotron.

You froze. “No. No way.”

Ace leaned forward, his grin turning devious. “Oh yes.”

Deuce, ever the supportive friend, burst into laughter, slapping his knee. “This is the best day of my life.”

Meanwhile, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “This has to be a mistake.”

The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers. “Come on, lovebirds! Don’t be shy! Show us some NRC spirit!”

“I’m going to die,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands.

“Not without giving the people what they want,” Ace teased, turning to you with an exaggerated smirk. “Come on, for school pride.”

You glared at him, your cheeks burning. “Ace Trappola, I will—”

Before you could finish, Ace leaned in, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Relax. It’s just a little kiss, right?”

Your breath hitched. The crowd was chanting louder now, and your heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the embarrassment.

“Just a little kiss,” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

And then it happened.

When his lips met yours, the crowd erupted into cheers, whistles, and applause. Time seemed to stop as the noise around you faded into a distant hum.

His lips were warm and surprisingly gentle, and the faint taste of soda lingered as he pulled back, his face flushed but grinning like an idiot.

“Well,” he said, his voice slightly breathless, “that wasn’t so bad, huh?”

You blinked at him, your brain short-circuiting. “You… You just kissed me!”

“You kissed me back,” he shot back, his grin widening.

Deuce, still laughing like a lunatic, clapped Ace on the back. “Congratulations, Trappola. You finally grew a pair.”

Ace turned to the jumbotron, where your kiss was being replayed in slow motion. “Man, we look good together,” he said smugly, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

You shoved him, your face burning hotter than the sun. “Don’t push your luck.”

The rest of the game passed in a blur. Ace was insufferably smug, Deuce wouldn’t stop teasing you, and your heart refused to calm down.

As the crowd filed out of the arena, Ace caught your hand, stopping you just outside the gates.

“Hey,” he said, his usual grin replaced with something softer. “So, uh… about earlier.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I like you. Like, a lot. And this is not just because of the kiss cam thing.”

You stared at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Ace…”

“I mean, no pressure or anything!” he added quickly, his face turning red. “But, you know, if you did want to be more than friends, I wouldn’t mind…”

You smiled, stepping closer and leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re such an idiot.”

His jaw dropped. “Wait—does that mean…?”

“It means yes, Ace,” you said, laughing. “But you better not let this go to your head.”

Ace grinned, grabbing your hand. “Too late.”

Spoiler: Ace tells everyone at school, and now half the campus thinks the kiss cam was staged. You’re stuck with him, but honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Deuce Spade

The stadium buzzed with excitement, the crowd alive with cheers as NRC's Magift team scored another point. You sat beside Deuce, who was yelling encouragement so earnestly you swore the players might actually hear him through sheer determination.

“Come on! You’ve got this! Pass it—yes!” he shouted, punching the air.

You couldn’t help but smile. Deuce’s enthusiasm was contagious, even if he had accidentally knocked over your popcorn in his excitement earlier.

“You’re going to lose your voice,” you teased, nudging his arm.

“I’ll be fine,” he replied with a grin. “This is important!”

What wasn’t important, however, was the dreaded kiss cam that appeared on the giant screen moments later.

The heart-shaped frame zoomed in on various couples, each one receiving cheers as they nervously or enthusiastically complied. You laughed, thinking nothing of it—until your own face appeared on the screen.

You froze. “Oh no.”

Deuce, oblivious, kept clapping until the heart frame zoomed out to reveal him beside you. His face turned crimson so fast you worried he might combust.

“W-What?!” he stammered, pointing at the screen as if denying its existence might make it disappear.

The crowd erupted in laughter and cheers, the announcer’s voice booming. “Come on, lovebirds! Let’s see some NRC spirit!”

“Deuce, say something,” you hissed, your face burning.

“I—uh—I—” he stuttered, looking everywhere but at you. “They—uh—made a mistake! Right?!”

The announcer wasn’t letting up. “Looks like someone’s shy! Don’t leave us hanging!”

Deuce looked at you helplessly, his face a mix of panic and mortification. “I-I’m so sorry about this!”

You sighed, your own heart racing. “It’s fine, Deuce. Just a quick kiss, and they’ll move on.”

He nearly choked. “A kiss?!”

“It’s not a marriage proposal!” you shot back, trying to keep your cool despite your own nerves.

He nodded frantically, visibly psyching himself up. “O-Okay! Let’s do this!”

Deuce leaned in slowly, his eyes shut so tightly you thought he might be praying for divine intervention. His lips brushed your cheek in the softest, most hesitant kiss imaginable before he pulled back like he’d just touched a live wire.

The crowd cheered wildly, but Deuce wasn’t done. In his panic, he’d miscalculated the kiss angle, and his forehead accidentally bumped yours as he pulled away.

“Oh no! Are you okay?” he asked, horrified.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your nervousness melting away at his sheer awkwardness. “I’m fine, Deuce.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again, his hands hovering like he wanted to check for injuries.

You smiled and, feeling bold, leaned forward to kiss his cheek in return. The crowd’s cheers doubled, and Deuce looked at you like you’d just announced he’d won the lottery.

“Um,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “That was… uh… nice.”

You laughed. “It’s just a kiss, Deuce.”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just a kiss.”

Deuce spent the rest of the game sneaking glances at you, his face perpetually red. By the time the match ended, you were sure he’d worn a hole in the ground with all his nervous foot-tapping.

As the two of you walked back to the dorms, he finally cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I… I really like you.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden confession. “Deuce—”

“I mean it!” he said quickly, his words tumbling out like he’d been holding them back for ages. “I’ve liked you for a while, but I didn’t know how to tell you, and the kiss cam just kind of—”

You cut him off with a quick kiss to his lips, effectively silencing his rambling.

“Does that answer your question?” you asked, smiling at his stunned expression.

Deuce nodded, his face practically glowing. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

Spoiler: Ace finds out and teases Deuce relentlessly, but Deuce doesn’t care. He’s too busy walking you to class and holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jack Howl

The stadium was alive with energy, the roar of the crowd reverberating through the stands as NRC's Magift team dominated the field. You sat beside Jack, who had insisted you attend because "It's good to support our school." Truthfully, you didn’t mind—watching the game with Jack was its own kind of fun.

He sat rigidly in his seat, tail swishing lightly as his sharp eyes tracked every play on the field. You chuckled at how serious he looked.

"Jack, relax. It's just a game," you teased.

"It's not just a game," he replied, his ears flicking. "This is about teamwork, discipline, and—"

He stopped mid-sentence when the crowd erupted in cheers. You both looked up to the big screen, only to see a giant pink heart frame around… you and Jack.

Cue Panic.

“Wait, what?!” you exclaimed, your face instantly heating up.

Jack’s ears flattened against his head as his eyes widened in sheer panic. “Oh no.”

The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers. “Looks like we’ve got a shy couple! Let’s hear it for them, folks!”

The crowd cheered louder, and you groaned. “Oh, come on…”

Jack was frozen in place, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. His tail puffed up slightly as he asked, “They’ll move on, right? They’ll pick someone else?”

You glanced at the screen, seeing your own mortified expression reflected back at you. “Not unless we do something.”

Jack’s face turned impossibly red. “You mean…?”

“Yes, Jack,” you said, trying to suppress your own embarrassment. “A kiss. Just a small one! It’s no big deal.”

Jack looked at you like you’d just asked him to leap off a cliff. “I can’t! What if it’s weird? Or awkward? Or—”

“Jack,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s just a game. Let’s get it over with.”

His ears twitched nervously as he nodded. “Okay. But, uh… where?”

“Where?” you repeated, confused.

“I mean, do I… your cheek? Your forehead? I—I don’t want to—”

“Jack!” you laughed, despite your own nerves. “Cheek is fine.”

He nodded again, his tail wagging nervously behind him as he leaned in. Just as his lips barely brushed your cheek, the crowd erupted in cheers—only for Jack to try to jerk back so fast that his forehead bumped yours.

“Ow!” you yelped, rubbing your head.

“Are you okay?!” he asked, panicking.

“I’m fine,” you said, trying not to laugh at his flustered expression. “But you might’ve just knocked me into next week.”

The announcer’s voice interrupted. “Let’s hear it for our lovebirds! What a show!”

You both sank further into your seats, faces burning. Jack mumbled an apology, looking like he wanted to crawl under the stadium.

“You know,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “You could’ve just kissed me properly.”

Jack froze, his eyes snapping to yours. “What?”

“Yeah,” you teased, grinning. “You’re already on the big screen. Might as well make it count.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his ears flicking nervously. Then, to your surprise, he leaned in again—this time more confidently—and pressed a quick, warm kiss to your lips.

The crowd lost it, cheering so loudly you could barely hear yourself think.

When Jack pulled back, his face was crimson, but there was a small, shy smile on his lips. “There. Was… was that okay?”

You smiled back, your heart racing. “More than okay.”

Jack spent the rest of the game sitting a little closer to you, his tail wagging uncontrollably. As you left the stadium, he finally cleared his throat.

“So… does this mean we’re—uh… dating?” he asked awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

You laughed, grabbing his hand. “What do you think?”

Jack’s tail wagged even harder. “I think I’m really lucky.”

Spoiler: Ace, Deuce and Epel find out later and tease Jack mercilessly, but he doesn’t care. He’s too busy walking you to class with his hand in yours.

Epel Felmier

The game was electric, with the crowd roaring as NRC held a narrow lead over RSA. You sat near the bench, cheering loudly for one player in particular. Epel was a blur of determination on the field, his every move brimming with adrenaline and a grit that made your heart race just watching him.

During halftime, the players jogged off the field to hydrate and strategize. Epel wiped the sweat from his brow and spotted you by the bench. You held up an electrolyte drink with a proud smile.

“Here, you earned it!” you said, handing him the bottle.

He accepted it with a quick grin, gulping it down like a man dying of thirst. “Thanks. Didja see that shot I made earlier?”

“I did!” you replied enthusiastically. “You’re playing amazing out there!”

Your encouragement had him standing a little taller, his eyes shining with a mix of pride and affection. “Well, I ain’t done yet. Gotta show those RSA guys what we’re made of.”

But before he could head back to the huddle, the crowd’s noise shifted. You both turned toward the massive screen above the field, where a familiar heart-shaped frame surrounded… the two of you.

Epel froze for a fraction of a second, his flushed face turning an even deeper shade of red. You stared at the screen in surprise, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“Is that… the kiss cam?” you muttered.

Epel glanced back at his team’s huddle, where his teammates were laughing and giving him exaggerated thumbs-ups. The crowd began chanting, egging him on.

In that moment, with the adrenaline from the game still coursing through his veins and the giddy rush of your praise in his chest, Epel made a snap decision.

Without a word, he leaned in and kissed you—hard, fast, and with enough confidence to leave you absolutely stunned.

The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles as Epel pulled back, his violet eyes sparkling mischievously. “Thanks for the drink,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just turned your world upside down.

Then, with one last grin, he jogged back to his team, leaving you standing there, breathless and staring after him.

The rest of the game was a blur. Epel was on fire, scoring two more goals and securing the win for NRC. The crowd was ecstatic, the team celebrating wildly, but your mind was stuck on that kiss.

When the post-game frenzy finally settled, Epel approached you by the bleachers. He was still sweaty and flushed, but his usual nervousness was nowhere to be seen. The adrenaline from the game still seemed to fuel him as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Hey,” he started, his accent thick and his voice a little raspy. “About that kiss earlier…”

You raised an eyebrow, your heart pounding. “What about it?”

Epel took a deep breath, his violet eyes locking onto yours. “I ain’t just kissin’ people for fun, ya know? I… I like you. A lot. And I’ve been wantin’ to say somethin’ for ages, but I didn’t know how. Guess the kiss cam kinda forced my hand.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his honesty. “So what are you saying, Epel?”

“I’m sayin’... would ya go out with me?” he asked, his cheeks turning red again.

You pretended to think for a moment, but the truth was, you already knew your answer. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Epel’s face lit up, his grin wide and genuine. “Really?!”

“Really,” you said, laughing.

He fist-pumped the air triumphantly before quickly trying to play it cool. “Well, uh, that’s great. I’ll, uh, plan somethin’ nice, alright?”

“Looking forward to it,” you replied, your smile as wide as his.

The kiss cam video was all over campus the next day, much to Epel’s embarrassment and your amusement. Still, neither of you could deny how it sparked something wonderful between you.

And yet, every time someone teased him about it, Epel would just grin and shrug. “What can I say? I go for what I want.”

Sebek Zigvolt

The Magift stadium was loud and lively, the crowd cheering wildly as NRC battled RSA in a fierce match. You sat next to Sebek, who was practically vibrating with excitement. Not for the game, mind you, but for the honor of cheering for his young master.

“Do you see that?!” Sebek shouted, practically jumping out of his seat. “The precision! The sheer grace! Lord Malleus is unmatched on the field!”

You smiled, resting your chin on your hand. “Yeah, Sebek, I see it. You’ve mentioned it about... ten times now.”

“Only ten?!” He gasped, scandalized. “I must rectify this immediately—”

Before he could continue his speech, the crowd erupted into cheers. Confused, you looked up at the massive screen, only to freeze.

There, framed in a gigantic pink heart, were you and Sebek.

“What… what is this madness?!” Sebek’s voice boomed over the crowd noise, his face quickly turning beet red.

“It’s the kiss cam,” you explained, already feeling the heat creeping up your neck.

Sebek blinked at you, utterly baffled. “Kiss cam? What nonsense is this?!”

The announcer chimed in cheerfully. “Looks like we’ve got a lively one, folks! Give the crowd what they want!”

The audience clapped and whistled, clearly entertained by Sebek’s outburst. Meanwhile, you wished you could melt into the ground.

“Sebek, we’re on the big screen,” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low. “Just a quick kiss, and they’ll move on!”

Sebek recoiled as if you’d suggested dueling Malleus. “What?! A kiss? In public? In front of—of all these people?”

“Yes!” you snapped. “It’s not that big of a deal!”

“But—! But—!” Sebek sputtered, his hands flailing in an uncharacteristically awkward display. “I cannot—this is—HOW DARE THEY IMPOSE SUCH A THING?"

The crowd was relentless, chanting louder as Sebek grew more flustered.

“Sebek,” you sighed, leaning closer to him. “If you don’t just do it, they’ll keep us up there forever.”

His eyes widened, darting between you and the screen. “I—fine! But only to end this nonsense!”

Sebek sat up stiffly, his face as red as his dorm uniform. Slowly, he leaned toward you… only to stop halfway, completely frozen.

“Sebek,” you whispered, trying not to laugh at his deer-in-headlights expression. “You’re overthinking it. Just a little peck.”

He shut his eyes tightly, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “For the honor of the young master.” Then, with the precision of someone about to execute a high-level spell, he leaned in and pressed the briefest kiss imaginable to your cheek.

The crowd erupted into cheers, but Sebek immediately pulled back, clutching his chest like he’d just fought a dragon.

“Well, that was…” You paused, trying to find the right word. “Anticlimactic.”

Sebek glared at you, still blushing furiously. “What more do you want?! I have upheld this ridiculous tradition to the best of my ability!”

You smirked, leaning closer. “Oh, come on. You’re supposed to kiss me on the lips.”

“WHAT?!” Sebek practically shouted, earning another wave of laughter from the crowd.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” you teased, leaning in just a bit more.

Sebek’s brain seemed to short-circuit for a moment, but before you could follow through on your teasing threat, he surprised you by leaning in and kissing you properly.

It was quick and clumsy but sincere, and when he pulled back, the people sitting around you erupted into wild cheers.

Sebek, meanwhile, looked like he was about to faint. “There. Are you satisfied now?!”

You laughed, touching your lips. “Actually, yeah. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

For the rest of the game, Sebek sat ramrod straight, refusing to look at you.

When the match ended and you both walked back to campus, he finally broke the silence. “That… that was purely for practical purposes!”

You grinned. “Sure, Sebek. Whatever you say.”

He glanced at you, his blush returning in full force. “It—it meant nothing!”

But the way his hand brushed against yours—and stayed there—told a very different story.

Masterlist

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi! :) mayhaps can i request your HC's for viktor x an artist reader. 👉👈 ur angst drabbles have been sustaining my life since season 2

There’s a saying that if an artist loves you or falls in love with you, you can never die.

A saying that Viktor didn’t give much thought until it was very clear that he was your forever muse, your reason to keeping your passion alive through experimenting art styles to maximise the effect you wanted your art to have; almost in the exact same way a scientist would conduct experiments in order to understand how something works and how to properly utilise it.

However each and every one of your art works came out looking like masterpieces that should and probably would be studied by future artists themselves one day, given how beautiful they were.

But also because they all included a man with amber eyes and soft chocolate hair hard at work with his own projects as blue sparks are captured liked shooting stars flying past his beautiful face. He truly was a once in a lifetime experience that you wanted to eternally capture within the pages of your sketchbook.

It literally didn’t matter what he did, whether it was tinkering, experimenting with the hexcore or just simply existing, you wanted to capture as much of Viktor as you possibly can whenever you can.

Viktor, in your eyes, was the kind of man people would kill to create sculptures of and artworks that would be seen in grand museums, within a beautifully intricate frame that only added emphasise to his importance to the artist in question. The artist being you of course.

So needless to say whenever you were with Viktor you made sure to have your sketchbook and pencils in hand as you knew that you’d end up wanting to sketch him for the millionth time that day.

However your favourite sketch of him came when you made him smile, genuinely smile.

The image of his bright and handsome smile was all you could see for hours on end as you found yourself absentmindedly sketching his face, his smile, the wrinkles near his eyes and his wind ruffled hair to perfection.

You then found yourself staring at it as though reliving the moment where you heard his laugh reach your ears like a harmonious melody, swept upon the wind that ruffled his hair and into your ears and your ears only.

To be loved by an artist was to be seen and you saw Viktor in a way that nobody else could, not even himself, and it showed in your work as you made him look like an angel disguised as a human given how frequently you used the colour gold whenever you drew him. From his eyes, to his clothes, everything with Viktor had hints of gold to it.

So much so that you had to get more colouring pencils of the exact same shade of gold so frequently that the manger of the art shop knew your name and the muse of your latest works at this point.

‘Drawing Viktor again I see?’ They’d teasingly ask as you’d shrug your shoulders.

‘Guilty as charged.’ You would reply before taking your things and leaving.

Viktor didn’t pry into your sketchbook, it was your belonging and he didn’t feel it was necessary for him to pry into it, but his curiosity didn’t help him one day as he found himself drawn to the sketchbook that you seemed to had left in his lab.

The first few pages were merely parts of the academy that you frequently visited, from the gardens, to the library, to even the lab he was stood in. Each one was increasingly more impressive than the last with how lifelike you made each one as though he could fall into the scene you had created; a true testament to your talent, creativity and insane attention to detail.

However the further the sketchbook went, he could easily see a decline in inspiration in your art. only for it to pick back up again when you had started drawing him doing the most mundane of things -at least in his mind he thought so- as simple sketches to portraits solely done by oil pastels or only colouring pencils. All just to emphasise his features and the concentrated furrows of his brows, a large variation of colours you’ve used so effortlessly to make up his face in a way that he could never imagine.

And yet Viktor found that there was more artworks of yours regarding him, artworks that seemingly continued endlessly and were just as hyper detailed and colourful as the more of himself that he saw, each one touching his heart in a way that made him realise that this was how you genuinely saw him; an angel in human skin as the way you depicted him was either simply human or an ethereal being coated in various shades of gold.

Through the eyes of an artist, through the eyes of you, Viktor knew that you only conveyed what you believed to be true and the fact that you saw him in such a way was enough to have him struggling to breath, but in the best way possible.

You way you saw him transcended beyond the person he saw each and every day in the mirror. You saw him as a man of infinite beauty, wisdom and strength in a multitude of ways while never shying away when it came to his leg nor disease.

If anything you made those parts of him stand out the most in a way that told him that you found these parts of him a strength and perfection in your eyes. Telling him that you didn’t wish him to be anything other then himself, for he was perfect and so much much that only your art could help describe.

Viktor; a man on borrowed time became a man immortalised within the pages of his artist lover.

He even seen the sketches of him fast asleep against his workbench you’ve done and even then you took your time making it look like he was staring into a mirror of himself.

You’d catch him flicking through your sketchbook but you couldn’t say anything against it as the way his eyes light up and soft smiles upon looking at your latest works, looks that only made you want to draw Viktor even more if it meant this sight becoming more common with the passage of time.

‘You like them?’ You’d ask from the doorway.

‘I love them my dear.’ He replies softly as he presses his forehead against your own, making you smile fondly. ‘But was the drawing of me sleeping necessary?’ He adds playfully as you chuckled.

‘Oh it was very necessary my muse.’ You replied with equal playfulness as you kissed his nose. ‘I saw an opportunity and couldn’t let it pass me by without at least drawing it first,’ Viktor scoffs but the smile upon his lips remained, ‘and besides you looked really peaceful and relaxed that I wanted it to be something I remember. Hoping I get to experience more moments like that to be my muse for my future drawings.’ You finished.

‘I’m glad the to could do that for you my dear.’ Viktor closed his eyes and rested his head further against yours, wanting nothing then to capture this moment within his mind forever, secretly hoping to continue to be the muse of your art projects as your artistic range grew.

‘You’ve always been my muse,’ you said, closing your eyes, ‘you will always will be my muse.’

[caught-tumbling]

No, conservatives find other reasons for cutting off their family members. My neighbor cut off both of his kids because they left the Mormon faith. My friend got disowned because her parents found out she was bisexual. My aunt stopped speaking to me because she found out I support "murdering babies."

Obviously none of this is political when conservatives talk about it. Its just life. But when I told my aunt I'm happy to not hear from her anymore if she'd let me die of an ectopic pregnancy THEN it was discussing politics. Its only politics if it suits them

[lovelytsunoda]

love, actually | robert 'bob' floyd

summary: recently appointed admiral robert floyd feels overwhelmed in his new position, and unprepared to fill the shoes of the late admiral thomas kazansky. when he inherts the job, he also inherits tom's old secretary. cue the romance. inspired by hugh grant's storyline in love, actually

pairing: admiral!bob floyd x secretary!reader

warnings: mentions of death and greif was she secretly in love with that old man (because same) we may never know! mentions of addiction (but not with our two main characters!), can be considered to be a minor part of the heather and tommy universe (see 'tell me something girl (are you happy in this modern world)!) so many navy inaccuracies it would make a real admiral's head spin, professionalism simply does not exist in the pacific fleet

the office was barren, devoid of the remarkable life that had once occupied it. the large oak desk that had once held family photos and love notes from the admiral's wife was now empty, save for the top of the line desktop computer. admiral kazansky's wife and kids had been by earlier in the week to collect his things. bob hadn't been there, but he'd heard from natasha that it wasn't a pretty sight. she said that heather kazansky looked frail, and slightly lost without her husband of thirty years by her side. tom was her soulmate, and she'd gone through the pain of watching him die slowly.

cancer was a bitch.

this wasn't how he had wanted to come in to the job. although it was no doubt that he was the best man to lead the pacific fleet (and with an endorsement from maverick mitchell, nobody was going to question his appointment.), he was now wondering if he was really ready.

"admiral floyd?"

bob turned around. standing in the doorway in a skirt that was certainly not navy issued, was a tall young woman with round glasses and soft features. she wore no makeup save for the mascara on her eyelashes.

"hi, i'm y/n. i was admiral kazansky's secretary. and, i suppose, i'm now yours." her voice was soft and gentle, like music to bob's ears. "i brought your welcome packet and agenda for the day."

"admiral robert floyd." he stuck his hand out for her to shake, ignoring how clammy his palms suddenly seemed to feel. "but please, call me bob."

"that's your callsign, right? does it mean anything?"

bob rolled his eyes. "baby on board. they call me that because of my youthful appearance."

she laughed briefly, a cheerful and somewhat abrupt sound, before she looked at the empty office, her face falling again. "he was a good man."

"he was." bob agreed somberly.

"i loved that old man, i really did."

for a second, bob felt like something had tripped in his brain. she loved him? it seemed so cliche when he thought about it, but weren't cliches there for a reason? the pretty young secretary with the silver fox admiral. but what about heather? and his kids? he'd been married to heather since 1987, and from what bob knew of the admiral, he was an honorable man in all aspects of life.

this confusion must have shown on bob's face, because the secretary simply laughed, turning to face him with her arms crossed over her baby blue blouse.

"like a father, admiral. admiral kazansky and i were never involved. he was a family man. i'm the same age as his middle child." she didn't know why she was spitting out words like this. divulging too much information would be unprofessional and- "i actually used to go out with his eldest son when i first started working here. i was young and dumb and mitchell kazansky was a few years older and smooth talking. and then i broke up with him and he went to rehab. he's doing good now. he got married four years ago, i think. i've met his wife, she's a sweet girl." stop. fucking. talking. y/n.

in truth, bob only caught half of the word vomit. he was too preoccupied with the way her eyes sparkled behind her glasses, and the way her crossed arms accidentally pushed up her cleavage. she was totally wearing a push up bra. jake and bradley could probably even accurately guess her boob size. bob couldn't, but didn't need to to wonder what it would be like to rest his head against them, feeling her arms wrap around his tired frame.

"anyways." she exhaled, cheeks rosy with embarrassment. "i'll let you settle in. just so you know, your friday meeting with the commanders got moved up. it's nothing to worry about. come find me at lunch and i'll give you the brief. i used to make them for tom all the time, especially when he got sick."

"thank you." bob said graciously. "i really appreciate it. would you actually mind staying with me during the meeting? just to make sure i don't put my foot in my mouth."

she smiled, passing him a file folder. "of course, admiral. i'd love to."

the afternoon meeting came faster than bob would have wanted, and he was still struggling to make heads or tails of half the reports that his secretary had left on his desk. having a meeting this soon into his tenure seemed unusual, and for a moment he wondered about the severity of the content being discussed.

of course, he couldn't worry for long. through the panes of glass in the office doors, he could see y/n out at her desk, applying a thin layer of chapstick while she waited on hold with someone. her desk was filled with little baubles and a few small plants were on the filing cabinet behind her.

she looked calm and carefree, unbothered. and bob was smitten. completely and totally smitten. sure, it was a workplace harassment suit waiting to happen. and yes, it was never a good idea to get involved with people at work, especially when you outranked them.

but in that moment, bob floyd simply couldn't care less. especially when she gave him a flirty little wave from behind her desk, and even more so when the collar of her shirt dipped just enough that bob could see the edge of her lacy white bra.

this woman was going to be the death of him.

"bob?" she called out, poking her head through the doorway. "the commanders are here earlier than expected. have you had a chance to look over the notes?"

fuck. he couldn't admit that he was so distracted that he forgot to read the file. "uh, about half of it?" he explained sheepishly. "it's a lot."

she flashed him an understanding smile. "if you get lost in the meeting, i can take over. i used to do it for tom all the time."

"thank you. you're a lifesaver."

she winked, backing out of the room. "you owe me one, admiral."

the commanders filed into the meeting room, gathering around the round oak table like they were king arthur's knights. bob recognized a few of them, including jake seresin. he took a seat underneath the world map that was used to plot out missions, y/n taking a seat beside him.

and bob floyd wished he was a better man because as soon as he saw that skirt slip up her plush thigh, he was a goner. he forgot why he was even in that meeting in the first place. to his credit, he did fairly well, answering questions about the transition of power in the pacific fleet, and what was going on with some current matters that had gone unfinished when the previous admiral had passed. whenever bob seemed to stutter or falter in any way, y/n jumped in to rescue him, with a well-worded response delivered in such an effortless manner that he wondered why he was the admiral and not her.

jake caught him staring, a glean of admiration in his eyes as he watched the secretary (who was one of only two women in the room, by the way) outline a budget for the coming year. the commander kicked his former platoonmate under the table, holding back a laugh. bob shot him a dirty look before redirecting his attention to y/n.

after the meeting, and after shaking hands with what felt like every commander in san diego, jake stayed behind to chat with bob, eager to 'catch up' on everything the other had missed since their assignment with maverick. but really, jake just wanted to rib his coworker about the pretty secretary.

"dude, kazansky's secretary? come on."

"jake, shut up." bob could feel his face going pink. "it would be unprofessional at best, harassment at worst. her boss just died, for god's sake!"

jake laughed, hands tucked into the pockets of his dress whites. "i'm sure that they make porno's about this kind of thing. i say go for it. you only live once, admiral."

"hangman, go fuck yourself."

there was a knock on the office door, and y/n stuck her head inside the office. "admiral floyd, commander seresin. its five, so im on my way out. if you need anything, there's a post-it with my personal number on it in your welcome packet. don't stay too late, you'll make me look bad." she grinned at bob, waving at him before ducking back out of the office again.

bob shouted after her, something along the lines of 'see you in the morning', but he couldn't hear himself think over the sound of jake's laughter.

"what!"

"dude, look below your fucking belt. you're fucked."

_______

life went on, and bob found himself settling into his role as admiral nicely. of course, he wasn't doing it alone. y/n was a massive help in meetings, and they had started tag-teaming on important topics: putting together elaborate slide presentations, models and poster boards before every meeting with the fellow admirals or the commanders. there was a meeting with the president's aide scheduled for the new year, and surprisingly, bob wasn't worried about it. he had even gone as far as to help y/n decorate the office for christmas.

every day, she showed up in a trendy, fashionable and flattering outfit that definitely went against navy regulations, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. especially not when those leather slacks of hers made him so achingly hard that he spent half of his lunch break in the private bathroom jerking off. it wasn't the good admiral's fault that his secretary was so stunningly beautiful and sweet and kind and funny and so many other things that made him wonder if it was finally time to consider finding a life partner.

the pair had started sharing their lunch breaks, and bob was enjoying getting to know her outside of the office. she was easy to talk to, and he was convinced he had never laughed as much as he had when he was with her.

and that's why he was so worried when he saw that she had put in for a transfer request.

_____

they were one week out from christmas, and the base was getting ready to send all non-essential staff home. that meant that y/n was getting a much needed break, and while bob would be considered to be 'on-call', he got to go home as well. the last meeting of the year was finished, and y/n was cleaning up the round table in the conference room when she heard hushed voices from the cracked door in bob's office.

"robert, you understand what you're getting yourself into, right? the kind of trouble you'd be opening up for her?" natasha trace's voice was low and not quite venomous, but not calm either. "don't think that people haven't figured out why you hide in the bathroom over your lunch break, bradley told me about your little crush. you can't act on it, bob. i'm sorry, but you just can't. she's your subordinate. unless one of you transfers out. no matter how much you think you'd be able to make it work, it just not possible."

"i love her, phoenix. and i don't know what to do."

"you keep your mouth shut and your dick in your pants. that's what you do."

she felt her heart grow tight in her chest. bob was in love with someone? it was probably another soldier, or a pilot. or, and she hesitated at the thought, was bob floyd falling in love with her?

she didn't know if she wanted to find out. because if she was wrong, and bob didn't feel the same way about her that she felt about him, it was going to lead to a lot of heartbreak.

she put in for a transfer to another fleet later that week.

________

"what the fuck? how could this happen, phoenix? what did you say to her?"

natasha gaped at the frazzled admiral, who was pacing behind his desk. "what did i say to her? i didn't say shit, bob. she must have overheard us and gotten the wrong idea."

it was christmas eve, and bob didn't even know why he'd come into the office. he supposed it was because he wanted everything pressing to be done before the holidays, but seeing the neon blue transfer request paper on his desk had thrown him for a loop.

"i can't function without her. she keeps this office going." bob wailed, running his fingers through his hair. "i need her."

"yeah." jake snorted. "in more ways than one."

"can it, hangman." natasha scolded. "you'd have to find a really good, sound reason for denying the transfer, you know. keeping her here without one would be an abuse of power."

"you think i don't fucking know that?"

"there is another solution here." bradley bradshaw suggested, leaning against the side of the desk. "her address would be in her files, right? why don't you go and talk to her?"

actually.....that wasn't a terrible idea.

"no." natasha glared at him, almost as if she could read his mind. "that would be another glaring abuse of power. do none of you have functioning brain cells? this is psychotic."

"but it could work." bob mused, scrambling to boot up his computer. "what woman doesn't love a grand romantic gesture?"

"that's my boy." jake roared with laughter, clapping him in the shoulders. "let's make this christmas miracle happen."

bob scrambled to pull up her personnel file, scribbling a street address down in his messy cursive. "okay, okay. how do we know she's home? i mean, it's christmas eve. she could be with family, or with friends-"

"trust your gut, admiral." jake encouraged. "rooster, grab the keys to the bronco!"

"i'm surrounded by idiots!" natasha cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "why am i even here?"

there was a fleeting sense of nostalgia as the former dagger squad members piled into rooster's sleek black bronco. it was cold for california, albeit the lake of snow on the ground. a strong wind was coming in off the ocean, pushing the bronco closer to y/n's house. bob was jittery, working his way through everything he wanted to say.

because how did he tell a woman that he loved her without even having gone out with her yet?

"alright, take a left at this next set of lights, and then a left at the stop sign after that." jake instructed, reading directions off of his phone. rooster was going at least ten over the speed limit, and natasha was praying that there were no police officers around.

"that's her house!" bob shouted, jumping to attention in the backseat. "the one with the the three volkswagens in the driveway. she still lives with her parents, the whole family drives german cars. i remember her bringing it up over lunch one day."

the bronco skidded to a stop in the middle of the road, forced to slow abruptly when bob threw his door open. natasha chased him out of the car, followed up by jake while bradley worried about where to park on the unforgivingly small street.

bob ran up the driveway, in between an suv and a sport model jetta before practically launching himself at the doorbell.

"y/n?" he called, ringing the bell. "its admiral floyd! can we talk for a minute?"

"she cant hear you, dipshit." jake reminded gently. "just wait for her to answer the door."

the front door crept open, y/n standing nervously behind it in a christmas sweater and jeans. on her feet where two large slippers that looked like reindeer heads.

"admiral floyd? what are you doing here?"

"please don't transfer." bob pleaded, the words coming out in a single breath. "i don't know what i would do without you. you consume my every waking thought, every breath. these past few months working with you have been the most rewarding months of my career and i know how selfish it must sound of me to beg you not to go, but the truth is that i've fallen in love with you, y/n y/l/n. and i can't let you leave the fleet without making sure that you know that."

she stood frozen in the doorway for a minute before a wide smile broke out over her face. "come here you big doofus."

she stepped out onto the front porch, grabbing bob by the lapels of his tommy hilfiger trench coat and pulled him in for a kiss. his eyes widened in shock before he leaned into it, arms settling to hold her protectively.

"i put in the transfer request so you could ask me out, admiral." she whispered, giggling slightly. "i guess it worked."

"yeah." bob breathed, leaning in to kiss her again. "i guess it did."

"god damn it!" bradely shouted, out of breath and he came up the driveway. "don't tell me i missed everything trying to find somewhere to park my fucking car?"

y/n laughed, pulling away from bob. "do you guys want to come inside? i'd feel awful making you stand out here in the cold."

jake shrugged. "why the hell not."

"cassie's here, so behave yourself." y/n warned, referring to tom kazansky's youngest, whom jake had a history of hitting on.

jake perked up. "oh, cassandra!" he called, walking into the house

"not a chance, seresin. teddy and i are still very happily married!" a voice called from within the living room.

"god damn it!"

y/n turned to look at bob. "i made a massive mistake inviting them in, didn't i?"

bob chuckled, kissing her forehead. "yeah. but i wouldn't be here without them, so cut them some slack. come on, let's go celebrate christmas."

[hyperions-light]

I heard through the grapevine that people do not like Taash, which is bizarre to me, as I love Taash. So here’s a probably-expanding list of things to love about Taash!

1. They love animals so much!! The birds, guys! My heart melted <3

2. How kind and considerate they are to Karash, who needs someone to be gentle with him. They get that! They’re careful, and they warn both the Rivaini and their mother to be careful, too!

3. If you bring them to the Qunari in Treviso who is having a difficult time communicating, they will help them ;-;

4. How when they annotate the codex entries they always use footnotes ;-; because Shathann is an academic

5. How open-minded they are about stuff! They don’t automatically know everything, but they are always so willing to listen when someone explains things to them! They listen to Neve about Minrathous, even though it contradicts what they’ve been told; they listen to Davrin about working out, and Lucanis about the Crows.

6. How quick they are to admit their problems, listen, and apologize, if needed. It’s never frustrating to deal with Taash’s problems because as soon as you point out something’s wrong, they agree and are ready to handle it. It’s great!

7. It was really adorable when they tried to lie to Shathann about using their fire and they just… didn’t lol

8. They are sooooo sweet to their friends in the Lighthouse!! They always talk to everyone about whatever bad thing is happening, and they always offer to help fix it! I love that one dialogue where they insist to Bellara that her being upset about her brother is okay, and she should let the team help!! The way they express themselves is not always traditional, but it IS always considerate and well-meant!

9. Even though when Rook is recruiting them Shathann made the decision without their consent, Taash stops to reassure Rook that working with their team IS what Taash wanted. It’s really sweet <3

10. They are completely fine about Spite and treat Lucanis normally no matter what.

11. They love Shathann so much ;;;;;-;;;; I will write a whole post about it one day, but their relationship is soooo… it’s so real! I literally know people like this in real life, it’s written with so much attention to detail. And like even though they argue, and things can be difficult between them, Taash adores Shathann. There’s a reason almost every one of their outings involves her.

12. They are extremely knowledgeable in their areas of expertise! It’s fascinating to listen to them tell Lucanis how to lure out dragons, or Emmrich how to pick the right gems for his helmet. They are so confident !

13. The part where they yelled “the crows axe their regards” during battle almost made me die to the Antaam, I was laughing so hard

14. The fire-message they write themselves after the end of their arc thanks… Neve? I think ? For her help (will update this if I’m wrong)

15. They take everyone’s problems as seriously as they take their own. Even when other people miss it, they are the one to point out or affirm the importance of the emotional aspect of things (like during the Solas memories, when they call out that Solas regrets not speaking with Mythal again before she died)

Okay! More soon? Add, if you want!

[riririnnnn]

I have this foreboding feeling that while we are prepared for Sae's and Shidou's backstory, Nagi's backstory is going to sneak from behind and punch us in the gut.

No, I don't think it's going to be straight up depression like Kaiser's, but I do think that it'll hit close to home.

You see, Nagi got Laissez-faire parents which means they never really interfered with his life. Like, these type of parents—as I have read on some websites—will basically set their child free and let them do whatever they want with no or very few rules/restrictions. They will not tell you, "Oh! You should do this!" or "Oh! You shouldn't do this!" They will simply let you figure out your life all by yourself.

I'm not an expert on this and I'm not calling this type of parenting bad in any way. Every child is different with different needs, and I'm sure there are many who grew up in this kinda family and liked this parenting method. However, I do think that Nagi didn't like it that much, and I got two reasons to think this way:

1. "That's nice."

When Reo said that his family constantly meddles in his life, Nagi's immediate reaction was, "That's nice" instead of being surprised or disgruntled. If Nagi really liked his parents NOT meddling in his life, then he should've said something like, "Really!? Sucks to be you, Reo. I can't imagine living a life like that!"

You getting me?

Also, we all know how Nagi is—he definitely feels that telling someone to do or not to do something is a hassle, so he, probably, feels that if someone is doing all this for you, then you are important for them.

And before any one says, no, I don't think Nagi was tying up his tongue thinking, "They are his parents. They wouldn't want anything bad for their own child, right? I shouldn't say anything against them and should say good things about them just to be safe." I don't think he has this kind of filter in him.

2. "Don't die ."

So, why would you not want someone to die? Of course, because you care for them and want them to be with you.

"Want"

That's really what I'm tryna highlight.

It's a pretty common knowledge that some children are just naturally more independent while others are a bit more dependent and seek guidance from the elders. Considering Nagi's first reaction to knowing about Reo's parents' meddling, I think that Kiddo!Nagi falls into the latter category—someone who likes to be guided and helped by the adults. Now, place Kiddo!Nagi with his Laissez-faire parents... You are getting where I'm going with this one?

That's why I think that Kiddo!Nagi, probably, thought that his parents didn't love him/care for him. And what happens if someone doesn't love you or care for you? Yeah, they don't care if you die which, somewhat, explains why Older!Nagi was happy to hear, "Don't die [before us (probably)]" from his parents.

I have already talked about his potential backstory before too, so it was actually when I heard he had longer bangs as a child that made my head turn to him again—something felt odd.

I understand that having long bangs is not a big deal—Niko's bangs literally cover his eyes, but having it as a kid is way different, y'know. Once you are like 12-13, you somewhat become capable of doing your own hair and clothes by yourself, so you can manage whatever aesthetics you prefer. However, for a kid younger than that, it's the parents' responsibility to look after his/her hair and clothes, and we all know that long bangs are quite bothersome—blocks our vision, sometimes stabs the eyes, and even irritatingly itches the nose.

All in all, till his backstory drops, I'd firmly believe that he was, though unintentionally, a neglected kid—at least, emotionally.

Now I can't get this image out of my head where Kiddo!Nagi is longingly staring at other kids in a park where everyone is learning things like riding a bicycle or maybe playing baseball and stuff with their parents while he is just.. there, probably, all alone.

[anistarrose]

[ID: Tweets by Alexandra Erin (@AlexandraErin) as follows:

The Shirley Exception is a bit of mental sleight of hand that allows people to support a policy they profess to disagree with. It's called the Shirley Exception because… well, I mean, surely there must be exceptions, right?

Let's imagine that in response to suspicions about overbroad use of service animal rules, a city somewhere decides to just swing the pendulum 100% in the other direction. Restaurants, public accommodations, etc., no longer have to recognize any service animals.

And in the aftermath of the change, existing rules about where animals may and may not go apply full force.

A lot of people would back the change because Obviously Some People Take Advantage. (Positing that someone, somewhere is taking advantage is a great way to get the masses on your side in our politics, sadly.)

Now if you point out the existence of a blind person or an epileptic person who has a service dog for everyday navigation of life or for life-saving purposes, the Good People who just don't want anyone to take advantage will tell you:

"No one's talking about legitimate cases."

And if you point out that the rule that they're backing would affect what they call "legitimate cases", the response will be:

"But surely there will be an exception."

If you back up an anti-abortion activist to the point where they actually have to grapple with a case where the parent would 100% die delivering a 100% non-viable fetus, you'll get the same answers: "No one is talking about those cases." and "But surely there will be exceptions."

All of those studies of people in Trump Country USA who were shocked, shocked, that the kind man next door who is a good father and a great neighbor and a real part of the community was dragged away by ICE?

They all thought that surely he'd be an exception.

If you point out that the laws/policies they're talking about don't offer such exceptions and in some cases explicitly forbid them, if you say "So let's put those exceptions in writing."… well, then you're back to Surely People Will Take Advantage.

See, the people who are sure that Surely There Will Be Exceptions are very comfortable with the idea of justice being decided on a case-by-case basis. They've always had teachers, bosses, bureaucrats, even traffic cops giving them some slack for reasons of compassion and logic.

I mean, if Officer Smalltown von Cul-De-Sac could give them a warning when they were caught with recreational amounts of pot as kids because it was harmless and they Had Futures, then Surely there must be similar exceptions for everyone?

That post about "I never thought the leopards would eat my face, sobbed woman who voted for Face-Eating Leopards Party" is very true, and it goes farther than personal immunity to a very generalized and broad Just World Fallacy.

Surely, they think, surely the leopards will know to only eat the right faces, the faces that need eating, and leave alone all the faces that don't deserve that.

But if we try to lay out rules to protect faces from being eaten by leopards, people will take advantage. Best to keep it simple and count on decency and reason to rule the day.

So moderate conservatives, what we might call "everyday conservatives", the ones who don't wear MAGA hats or tea party costumes and think that Mr. Trump fella should maybe stay off of Twitter, they will vote for candidates and policies that they don't actually agree with…

…because in their mind the exact law being prescribed is just a tool in the chest, an option on the table, which they expect to be wielded fairly and judiciously. Surely no one would do anything so unreasonable as actually enforcing it as written! Not when that would be bad!

And then they are confused, shocked, and even insulted when people hold them accountable for their support of the monstrous policy.

"I didn't vote for leopards to eat your face! I just thought we needed some face-eating leopards generally. Surely you can't blame me for that!"

The old "Defense of Marriage" laws are another textbook example of this.

Many of them included language that expressly forbade giving similar benefits (like hospital visitation) to same-sex relationships.

Yet the people who voted for them, in many cases, wanted it to be known that No One Is Talking About Stopping You From Visiting Your Loved One In The Hospital. And Surely There Will Be An Exception.

The Shirley Exception is how people who are only mundanely monstrous, moderately monstrous, wind up supporting policies that are completely monstrous.

And when they do, they always want credit for their good intentions towards those they see as deserving, not the outcomes.

I'm describing a phenomenon here and I don't have a solution to its existence. While convincing people that laws that don't specify exceptions functionally don't have them might work sometimes on (ironically) a case-by-case basis, what is really needed is a broader shift.

People need to get used to thinking about the harm policies will do as a real part of the policy, not a hypothetical that Reasonable People of Good Will Can Surely Work Around.

Maybe the tack of saying, "If it was your life on the line, wouldn't you want that to be in writing?" would work. I don't know. Like I said, I don't have a solution here. This is just a thing that happens.

End ID.]

The Shirley Exception

[scary-grace]

what I don't remember now - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

Tomura's life doesn't end when his death sentence is handed down, and he knows damn well that he's innocent. It won't be long before one of his appeals proves it, and he can come home -- back to his friends, and back to you, the girlfriend who stood by him through the trial. But death row is a nightmare Tomura can't wake up from, and as the years behind bars begin to pile up, Tomura starts to question if it really matters whether he did it. If he'll ever be free. And if you and the other people who love him have forgotten him for good. (cross-posted to Ao3)

This is the prequel fic to 'if my heart was a house', and covers what's happened to Tomura since the last time he and the reader saw each other. I did a not-insignificant amount of research into the criminal justice system in Japan, specifically on prison conditions, prisoner treatment, and the administration of the death penalty. There is some dark and potentially triggering content, especially in later chapters, so please be wary! dividers/banners by @cafekitsune

one

It’s cold. Tomura lies still in the half-darkness of his cell, willing himself not to shiver. If he shivers, that’s it. That’s an admission that he can’t hack it, that being here is getting to him, that he can’t swallow the fistful of bitter pills that have been shoved down his throat. Tomura made a decision, somewhere between his sentencing and when he was shoved out of an armored transport in the yard of an unnamed prison, that he’s not going to give a nanometer. He’s not going to blink, or flinch, or whatever the fuck. Do that, and it’ll look like acceptance. And Tomura’s not going to accept being sentenced to death for something he didn’t fucking do.

Tomura’s not a good person. On his best day he’s lazy and on his worst he’s an unapologetic asshole. The most redeeming feature he has is the fact that better people than him want to be around him for some reason, and it’s not because he’s good-looking or ambitious or rich. Since birth Tomura’s been a disappointment. That’s not the same thing as being a murderer, and as many good reasons as Tomura has to hate the house he grew up in and the family who lived there with him, none of them are enough to make him kill them all.

He doesn’t remember what he was doing the night of the murders, except that he spent part of it in the hospital. He doesn’t remember confessing, which he apparently did, and when he tries to think about any of it, he gets a splitting headache and the kind of nausea that means he’s gotten hosed down in his cell eight times since he arrived three weeks ago. Tomura’s trial is a blur, too. The only thing that’s clear in his head is the memory of you – you, and your hands clasped tight around his, holding on so hard that Tomura thought his fingers would break. Your hands are smaller than his. Your hands were strong. Your hands are warm.

Thinking of you is one way to warm up, but it comes at a cost. A shiver runs through Tomura from his fingers up, and he lurches upright on his cot to hide the motion. A split second later, the lights in his cell go on, so bright that he’s blinded for a second. He raises his hand to shield his eyes, and a guard barks at him over the intercom. “Inmate 230385, return to the rest position immediately.”

“I just sat up,” Tomura says. “Is that illegal or something?”

“Return to the rest position.”

“Why?”

“Return to the rest position or corrective action will be taken.”

Corrective action? Tomura’s already on death row. What the hell do they think they can do to him that will make a difference? Take him out of his cell, probably. And put him somewhere colder. Tomura’s blanket slid down when he sat up. He hitches it back up and lies down again.

He doesn’t need to cause trouble. He’s not going to be here long. He’s got appeals pending, and there’s no way the judge who hears the next one will be as stupid as the one at his trial. Tomura’s not going to die here. Sooner or later, he’s going to get out, and when he does, nothing anyone said at the trial will matter. His friends will still be there, and so will you. Tomura just has to hold out until then.

He stares up at the ceiling and tries not to shiver. It gets easier when he remembers the warmth of your hands around his, the last time he saw you. Tomura thinks about that, about you, and it helps. But even your memory can’t quite keep out the cold.

two

Someone’s coughing. Tomura can’t tell which cell they’re in, but they’re making a hell of a lot of noise, and it’s ripping at Tomura’s nerves. He didn’t use to have such a problem with noise, but the death row is so silent most of the time that Tomura can hear the other inmates breathing in their tiny cells. No one gets to talk unless spoken to by the guards, and the guards never speak to anyone unless it’s to correct someone. Tomura’s been on the receiving end of corrective action more than a few times by now. It’s usually not worth it.

Tomura knows it’s not worth it, and still, the urge is there. He wants to say things. He wants to ask questions – like why he’s not allowed to make phone calls or write letters, what’s happening to all the phone calls and letters that he knows are coming for him. He doesn’t want anything to do with the other prisoners, but if he needed to talk to them, he’d want to know the option was available without risking the loss of his exercise period or getting his meals reduced from three to two per day. Tomura’s heard there are worse punishments. If he’s going to get one of those, it’s not going to be for trying to talk to someone.

Still, the coughing sounds like it’s killing whoever’s doing it – but before it kills them, it’s going to kill Tomura, because he can’t take this fucking noise. He can’t say a word without permission, but this asshole gets to hack out a lung with no consequences at all? Fuck that. Tomura clenches his jaw, trying to hold in the howl of frustration. He clamps his hands over his ears so he won’t have to hear it any longer. They need to stop. No one cares, and it’s driving Tomura insane – more insane than the silence, more insane than the cold. Shut up, he thinks at them, whoever the fuck they are. Shut up, shut up –

“Shut the fuck up!” someone else explodes from somewhere further down death row. “Just die already!”

“Inmate 113019, this is a verbal reprimand for speaking out of turn. If you continue –”

“Yeah. Go for it! Put me in the protection cells! At least then I’ll be away from this fucking noise –”

The coughing takes on a weird, wet note that it hasn’t had before, something that makes Tomura’s skin crawl. It’s drowned out almost instantly by the sound of the guards’ footsteps down the hall on their way to lower the hammer on 113019, whoever he is. Whoever he is, he puts up a fight. Tomura hears heavy thuds, curses, a burst of sound that might be sobs or laughter, and somewhere in the middle of it, the coughing comes to a complete stop. It doesn’t start up again, and once the guards drag 113019 away, the cell block is dead silent once more.

Two minutes ago, all Tomura wanted was for it to be quiet again. Right now, he can’t help wondering why the coughing stopped so suddenly. Right now, he misses the noise.

three

There’s frost on the ground, and Tomura can see his breath. His teeth are chattering, and he’s shivering too hard to walk. He shouldn’t be outside. But he gets one exercise period per day, and it’s the only time he gets to spend outside his cell. The only time he gets to see the sky and breathe air that hasn’t been recycled thousands of times until it tastes old and stale. It doesn’t matter if it’s below freezing. If Tomura has a chance to be outside, he should use it.

He forces himself to take even steps on his way around the tiny exercise yard, and at the same time, he lets his mind wander – back to you, because it’s easier to think about you out here than it is in his cell. He doesn’t want to imagine you in there with him. Out here, it’s easier. He can pretend the two of you are meeting up to go for a walk, like you did on your first date. He can pretend you’re just around the next turn.

After the first time you ran into each other, Tomura didn’t think he’d see you again. Which was stupid. You worked at the library on campus, and he needed to use the library, so of course he was going to see you. And every time you saw him, you talked to him until you had to go do something else – like renew someone’s checked-out book, reserve them a study room, schedule a session with a tutor, find a source they really should have been able to find on their own. At first Tomura took those interruptions as his cue to leave. Then he started waiting through them. Then he started coming by even if you were busy, waiting however long it took for you to have time for him.

Tomura hadn’t meant to ask you out, exactly. He just told you that he wanted to talk more sometime when you weren’t busy, and you suggested taking a walk together. Worked for him. Except for the part where it was really cold, even though the sun was out and the air was still, and the part where Tomura handles the cold the same way cats handle being sprayed with a hose. He was shivering before the two of you made it halfway around campus.

You noticed. Are you okay?

Fine, Tomura muttered, and you gave him a skeptical look – but you didn’t argue. You always knew how to call him on his bullshit, right from the beginning. Aren’t you cold?

I run kind of warm, you said, and you held out your hands. Here.

Tomura knew it didn’t mean anything, but his stomach still twisted, and his hands were shaking from more than the cold when he settled them in yours. Your hands were warm, just like you said they’d be. Warm, but not sweaty, and before Tomura could say anything, you folded his hands together, with yours on either side. You’re freezing, you said. I can keep you warm, but we should probably go inside.

Yeah. Tomura was glad you were holding his hands that way. Any other way, and he’d have latched on tight, refusing to let go. Sorry. This was a dumb idea.

Not really. A walk is a decent first date.

A first date. You wanted it to be a date, and you thought it was a good one. Tomura’s face somehow managed to heat up without making the rest of him any warmer. If I ask you to get coffee with me right now, can that be our second date?

You smiled. That made Tomura feel warmer, almost as warm as your hands felt around his. That works for me.

You always kept Tomura warm, and not for the first time, Tomura wonders what’s happening to you out there. Where you are, what you’re doing. If you found somewhere to live, because you can’t pay the rent in yours and Tomura’s apartment alone. If you’ve got your job still, because Tomura was pretty sure you were going to lose it for calling out so many days to sit with him during the trial. If you’re okay without him.

Tomura’s not okay without you. That’s why he has to be careful where he thinks about you. Not inside, when he can’t escape the fact that he’s been in prison for three years already. Only out here, in the cold, when he can think about what it’ll be like when all this is over. A guard shouts at Tomura that it’s time to come inside, and Tomura picks up the pace. One more circuit around the tiny yard. A few more seconds walking with you.

four

Tomura closes his eyes and listens to the quiet tapping against the bars of the cell beside his. It’s taken him four years in here to learn Morse code, and now that he knows it, he can talk to the other inmates on death row – the ones he feels like talking to, which is basically no one. The person next to him is all right. He calls himself Kurogiri. Tomura doesn’t know why he’s here.

Nobody knows why Tomura’s here, either. On the rare occasions anyone gets to talk to anyone else, they have better things to do than go over what bullshit twist of fate led to their death sentences. Convictions don’t matter when they’re all waiting on the same punishment. All that matters is time – how much time they’ve spent in here, and how much more time it’ll take for this to end. It says something about this place that four years after he was sentenced, Tomura’s still the newest one on the block.

Not for long, though. That’s what Kurogiri’s saying. Tomura taps out a response. H-o-w k-n-o-w?

G-u-a-r-d-s. Kurogiri has some kind of in with the guards. He’s never said what it is, and Tomura’s never asked. K-u-n-i-e-d-a o-l-d c-e-l-l.

So far in Tomura’s time here, only one inmate’s died, and it wasn’t in an execution. The inmate who was sick during Tomura’s second winter here died of whatever he had, and the guards didn’t find him in the cell until the next morning. By that point the smell of death was everywhere, and instead of letting the inmates move somewhere else until it was gone, the guards left all the vents open to flush it out. They let in the cold, too. It took Tomura two weeks to get warm.

He wonders if anyone’s going to tell the new guy what happened to the last person who lived there. Then again, nobody’s told Tomura what happened to the last occupant of his cell. He doesn’t want to know. Kurogiri is tapping out another message, and Tomura listens idly. Y-o-u o-k?

Tomura double-taps – shorthand for yes. W-h-y?

There’s a long pause. A really long pause. Tomura’s in the process of repeating himself when another prisoner responds from down the hall. C-h-i-c-k-e-n-s-h-i-t. T-e-l-l h-i-m o-r I w-i-l-l.

W-h-a-t? Tomura asks. His stomach is clenching, nausea welling up like he hasn’t felt in months. It’s hard to get scared in here. Nothing ever happens. T-e-l-l –

F-i-r-s-t a-p-p-e-a-l d-e-n-i-e-d. Kurogiri answers so fast that Tomura can barely decipher it. O-n-l-y f-i-r-s-t o-n-e. O-t-h-e-r-s –

Tomura’s not listening anymore. He manages to roll sideways off his bed before he throws up, but that’s it. The nausea that overtakes him is too powerful for him to do anything but vomit on the floor, then dry-heave once his stomach empties itself completely. The other inmates are laughing at him, calling out even though the guards are already on their way. The same inmate who always gets dragged out for talking is the loudest. “You’re getting off easy, kid! You killed seven people, but you only have to die once.”

“There are more appeals,” Kurogiri says. His voice is soft, almost comforting, completely at odds with the sound of Tomura’s cell door scraping open, drowned out almost entirely by the rush of cold water spraying from the fire hose, dousing Tomura and the mess and everything in his cell all at once. “You don’t need to worry. The process has already begun –”

“I didn’t know.” Tomura’s voice is hoarse, and his mouth tastes so awful that the sensation of air rushing over his tongue makes him retch again. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

The other inmates jeer at him, pointing out that they did tell him, but they must know that’s not what Tomura meant. Tomura should have heard that news from a lawyer, from an administrator, from a doctor – from somebody important. Not from a bunch of murderers. What if that hadn’t been his first appeal? What if it was his last one? If all his appeals fail, how is Tomura going to find out? Is anyone going to tell him, or is he just going to wake up one morning and find out it’s his last day on earth?

Tomura tries not to think of you in here, when things get bad. But he lets himself this time, just this once. Just to imagine that someone’s here who loves him, someone who cares that he’s sick and lonely and terrified. Someone who could tell him that it’ll be all right. Someone he’d believe. But when his skin is crawling with cold and disgust and terror so strongly that he can’t help but try to scratch it away, it’s hard to imagine that even you could make him feel better.

five

Tomura’s never gotten a letter from the outside. Never gotten a letter from you or any of his friends or whichever lawyer is handling his appeals – or even from Sensei, who spent the entire trial testifying against him so he could “learn his lesson”. Tomura thinks Sensei owes him an explanation, given that Sensei’s testimony put him away. The person he described as committing the murders sounds nothing like Tomura, because Tomura didn’t do it. He wants to hear what Sensei has to say about that. If Sensei thinks he’s learned his lesson yet.

It’s the lack of contact from you and the others that worries him more. He thought for sure he’d hear from you, from Spinner, from Toga, from Twice. Dabi’s not the letter-writing type, and Magne and Compress were newer additions to the group, but Tomura thought they’d maybe write at least once in five years. He’d call and ask, but he’s only got some of the phone numbers memorized, and what if you’ve changed them? It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t get visits or phone calls anyway.

It feels like a punishment, but Tomura can’t figure out what he did. He acts up the standard amount for a death row prisoner, enough to lose his exercise period or get his food restricted or have his cell tossed and lose anything he’s managed to keep in there. Nothing that deserves no phone calls for five years. Five fucking years. It’s not until the newest inmate starts acting up that Tomura gets a real answer.

He knows the name of the guy in Kunieda’s old cell only because the guy keeps insisting on being called by it, no matter how many times the guards correct him for speaking out of turn. When he’s not picking stupid fights with the guards, Chisaki is bitching about how this prison compares to his last prison, and everybody got tired of it within six weeks of his arrival. Tomura doesn’t have anything to compare this prison to. Before this, he’d never spent even a night in jail.

As summer turns to fall turns to winter and the temperature inside the cell block drops to just above freezing, Chisaki calms down. For a week, then another week, then an entire month. Did he get religion or something? Tomura’s seen that happen to at least one prisoner by now, but from what he can tell, it usually takes longer. To go from fucking around constantly to not fucking around at all is a big shift. It’s weird.

One day, while he’s huddled up in his cell under his stupidly thin blanket, Tomura hears voices filtering in from the exercise yard. His cell has vents that let in the cold, and apparently also give him the chance to eavesdrop. He’s never had a chance to eavesdrop before, but that’s because no one ever talks.

Of course it’s Chisaki talking. He’s somehow gotten permission from one of the guards to speak up, and he’s getting straight to the point. “My behavior for the last month has been exemplary. In my previous prison such a record has resulted in the renewal of privileges which were previously removed – such as the opportunity for visitors. When will that be restored?”

Whichever guard he’s talking to laughs awkwardly. “Nobody told you?”

“Told me what?”

Tomura’s interested, too. He listens closer. “You were in maximum security before, but it’s – different here,” the guard says awkwardly. “Once a sentence is finalized, no contact is allowed with the outside world.”

“What?” Chisaki demands. “Why not?”

“It’s policy. Contact with the outside world causes distress for condemned prisoners and their families and has no practical benefit. I – no, stop –”

Shouting erupts in the yard, and Tomura cringes away from the vents, his eyes burning. It’s not a punishment. It’s not a punishment, which means it can’t be lifted, which means that even if you and the others have been calling and writing letters, you can’t get through. Tomura will never get those letters. Tomura can’t write back. When Tomura saw you in the courtroom after his sentencing wasn’t just the last time he ever saw you, it’s the last time he’ll ever get to talk to you. And he didn’t know it. If he’d known it he would have said –

The noise from the exercise yard is so intense that the rest of the cell block can hear it, too. They’re doing what they usually do, any time someone shows weakness, and because they’re shouting at Chisaki, who’s bought himself a one-way ticket to the protection cell for the next month, no one notices as Tomura sinks down in the corner of his cell and scratches his neck until it bleeds.

six

Somebody’s death sentence gets reduced to life, and the cell next to Tomura’s opens up. Rather than leaving it open, leaving Tomura alone, the guards move fucking Chisaki into it. It’s not bad enough that Tomura has to rot in here until one of his appeals is successful and gets him out of here – he has to listen to Chisaki’s bitching and whining, too. And eventually Chisaki breaks the cardinal rule, the one rule that keeps everybody on death row even sort of sane. He picked up Morse code faster than Tomura did, and one day he taps out a question aimed at Tomura. W-h-a-t d-i-d y-o-u d-o?

He signs off with the last two numbers of his prisoner number, like Tomura’s confused about who’s sending this dumb message. Tomura doesn’t bother with identifying himself by tacking the last two digits of his ID on the front of his response. f-u-c-k o-f-f.

D-i-d y-o-u d-o i-t?

f-u-c-k o-f-f. Not for the first time, Tomura wishes he could all-caps a message without banging on the bars loudly enough to attract the guards’ attention. Morse code really needs a shift key. W-h-a-t d-i-d y-o-u d-o? Y-o-u f-i-r-s-t.

Silence. Of course. Chisaki can dish it out, but he can’t take it for shit. Tomura settles into the quiet, not hoping to enjoy the break so much as get through it without making himself feel worse. Downtime is bad for Tomura these days. He spends too much time thinking. Too much time getting angry. Too much time figuring out how he got here.

He knows Sensei set him up. It had to have been Sensei, because Sensei was in charge of Tomura when Tomura was fifteen, and Sensei kept hinting that Tomura should try to reconcile with his family. Tomura only agreed so Sensei would leave him alone about it. He’d meet them, deal with whatever happened, see if he could talk Hana at least into staying in touch and sending him pictures of Mon, and get out of there. It was going to be a bad night no matter what. At least Sensei agreed to go with him.

But something went wrong. They never made it there, at least not in Tomura’s memory, because Tomura woke up in the hospital. He’d blacked out or passed out or something, and as soon as he was borderline lucid, Sensei gave him the news. Tomura still remembers the weird way he delivered it, like he was telling Tomura they were having something gross for dinner instead of telling him that his entire family had been murdered. Tomura didn’t react the right way, either. He was supposed to meet his family. Now he wasn’t going to. He laid back down and went under again.

They used that, at the trial, seven years later. The fucking prosecutor asked Sensei a bunch of questions about how Tomura responded to the news, and Sensei told them how unsettling it was that Tomura didn’t care at all about his family dying. Tomura’s lawyer wouldn’t let him get on the stand to explain his side. They’ve already decided you’re guilty. Don’t make it worse.

They were going to kill him. Tomura knew that by then. There was no way to make it worse than it was already going to be, and if he was already guilty, he might as well have told the truth. What little of it he remembers.

Chisaki is tapping on the bars again at a pace Tomura couldn’t keep up with if he wanted to. His fingers are too fucking cold. W-e a-r-e-n-t d-i-s-c-u-s-s-i-n-g m-e.

No, they’re not discussing anybody. Tomura’s done with this. Screw the guards – he taps with emphasis. F-U-C-K O-F-F.

“You want to know what he did? I’ll tell you.” Prisoner 113019 laughs from across the hallway – the same one who always laughs when something bad happens to someone else. For the first time since he got here, Tomura prays for the guards to get here fast. “The little rat bastard’s a mass murderer. Greased his entire family.”

Tomura doesn’t know how 19 got ahold of that information, and right now, he doesn’t care. He just wants the guards to get here and shut him up. “His body count is higher than mine, and he won’t even own up to it like a man,” 19 continues, gleeful. “You’ve heard him talking in his sleep. He says he’s innocent.”

“Shut up,” Tomura says. His voice sounds awful, and he realizes all at once that he can’t remember the last time he spoke. It doesn’t matter if he talks now. They’ve only got one protection cell, and 019 is going in it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about –”

“And not only is his count the second-highest on death row,” 019 continues, ignoring Tomura, “he’s a sadist, too. Maybe his family deserved it – they’d have to for raising something like him – but there’s no way his dog had it coming.”

“Shut up!” Tomura explodes. His voice cracks, and he can feel his face contorting, eyes squeezing shut and jaw clenching tight. He’s not going to cry. He can’t cry here. “You stupid fuck. I didn’t do it!”

Death row erupts in laughter, just in time for the guards to arrive. Sure enough, they head to 019’s cell first, but two guards break off to drag Tomura out of his for a talking-to, also known as getting beaten up in places that won’t show. Tomura’s been in here long enough, knows how it works here well enough, to be almost thankful for a reason to feel pain. If anyone sees him, they’ll think his eyes are watering because he just took a baton to the ribs. Not because he misses his dog.

Tomura didn’t mention his family’s deaths to you for a while. He didn’t want to see you react, because he knows how people react to stuff like that – like Tomura’s just a tragic backstory with an ugly face, like everything he is can be described by the worst things that ever happened to him. He didn’t bring up his family, but he mentioned Mon, and you asked. Tomura told himself to answer like a normal person. He ended up crying instead, and you didn’t laugh or look at him differently. You just reached for his hand and –

A blow to the hip knocks Tomura off-balance, just in time for another hit in the stomach to double him over, and Tomura crashes sideways to the floor. He sprawls out, pinned with a guard’s knee on his back, as 019 marches past, flanked by four guards, and still leering down at him. Something snaps in Tomura’s head. He reaches through the guards’ legs, seizes 019’s ankle, and yanks his leg out from underneath him.

The knee grinds harder into his back, knocking the air out of his lungs, but Tomura can barely feel it. He’s trying to pull his hand back, and he’s too slow. Slow enough for a guard to see what he’s doing. Slow enough for the guard to raise one boot and stomp down on Tomura’s hand with all his strength, and for the first time since he set foot on death row, Tomura screams.

[wildsaltair]

This will be my single controversial rant about Gladiator and its sequel (specifically my thoughts on Maximus being retconned as Lucius' father), and then I will be silent on the matter because this blog is meant to be A Good Time and I just enjoy sharing my love for Gladiator with everyone on here :)

KIND OF SPOILERS FOR GLADIATOR AND THE SEQUEL (BUT NOT REALLY) BELOW

As everyone knows, Ridley Scott made the choice to reveal in Gladiator 2 that Lucius is actually the son of Maximus from a secret affair with Lucilla. In G2, it's apparently implied that Lucilla was trapped in a bad marriage, fell in love with Maximus, and kept the truth about Lucius' father a secret. Lots of viewers have been split about this, with some thinking that plot point was implied in Gladiator and others feeling that it contradicts what was established in Gladiator.

I am strongly of the opinion that this choice was a bad one, that it does interfere with the integrity of the original film, and that Gladiator 2 would have been much better without that change. I'll give my reasons below.

1. Yes, rewriting Maximus as a cheater does destroy his entire character arc in Gladiator.

We've all seen Gladiator, right? The one where the hero has everything life can offer but longs only to return home to be with his beloved wife and son? Carries their figurines with him into battle, cares only for them when his own life is threatened, lays down to die by their graves after he finds them dead? Spends the whole movie only wanting to meet them again in the afterlife and only gets peace once he's there.

Yeah. Apparently that guy cheated on his wife with a princess. His son and Lucilla's sons are the same age, which means Maximus would have to have been married to his wife while also sleeping with Lucilla.

Maximus' entire character arc relies on his pure, unconditional, self-sacrificial love for his family. Take that away, and you have a generic action movie about a guy who wants revenge because the Emperor tried to kill him once. Even when Maximus has lost everything inside himself and cares about nothing else, he still honors the memory of his family and fights to avenge them as well as join them. He is shown still talking to his wife in the afterlife through prayer and believing she can hear him. As @streets-in-paradise pointed out, it's the equivalent of having Aragon or Hector of Troy cheat on their wives — it's just painfully out of character for them.

There's also an element of Maximus' love and respect for his Emperor, Marcus Aurelius, another driving force in his characterization. I think Maximus has too much respect for Marcus to have had an affair with Marcus' married daughter, even if he knew Marcus maybe would have wished Maximus had married Lucilla. We never get much insight into that part of the past, but if we go by the virtues Maximus upholds throughout the movie, I just don't think Maximus would have considered sneaking behind Marcus' back to sleep with his daughter.

Either way, the emotional heart of Maximus' character is his love for his family, and retconning that so your sequel has a "bigger emotional impact" is nothing short of undignified and sloppy.

2. All the conversations between Maximus and Lucilla in Gladiator imply that they did have a romantic relationship — but that it was public (not clandestine) and took place before either of them were married.

Yes, Maximus and Lucilla definitely were in love at some point. Russell Crowe and Connie Nielsen have great chemistry, and their conversations (both of them) hold so much weight with "what could have been." Lucilla talks about how she wounded Maximus deeply as he did her, and their conversations are full of things like, "Is it so terrible seeing me again?" The weight of their previous emotional attachment pervades the movie in a way that is inextricable from the plot.

BUT. Maximus and Lucilla had their relationship A LONG TIME AGO. This is very clearly established by the way they talk to each other. Maximus has been in Germania for twelve years (taking breaks only to go home, but NEVER to visit Rome). He and Lucilla presumably met sometime before that, probably while the royal family was visiting some city where Maximus was serving in / commanding the army. The details are never established.

However, Maximus and Lucilla clearly had a public enough relationship that Marcus and Commodus knew about it, but there is never the slightest mention in Gladiator that Lucius might be Maximus' son — something Commodus surely would have exploited had he known it was a possibility.

Maximus and Lucilla were in love, but it was before they married other people. They were probably teenagers or young adults who fell madly in love, wanted to marry, but were stopped for whatever reason (probably Maximus not wanting to play politician's games, as he implies). Maximus met the woman he eventually married, Lucilla married Lucius Verus, and they carried on with their lives until they met again at the beginning of Gladiator.

Also, Maximus talks about the respect he had for Lucilla's husband (a far cry from what Gladiator 2 implies about Lucius Verus), and she talks about how she mourned Maximus' family. Sure, you can read into the script and find stuff about how Maximus could have been Lucius' father, but it explicitly goes against the values and implications of the overall acript.

Connie Nielsen stated that she played her scenes thinking that Maximus was Lucius' father. She's an actress, and she plays Lucilla brilliantly. But she's not the scriptwriter, and no matter what her intentions were, the script implies that their relationship took place much longer ago, before either of them were married. @becomelions made a great post about how Lucilla, too, can wish as much as she wants that Maximus was Lucius' father, but he couldn't have been. Not unless you retcon all of Gladiator as fanfiction.

3. Maximus' relationships with Lucilla and Lucius are not meant to replace those he had with his wife and son — they are meant to be reflections of some of the bigger themes of the film.

With all that said, this is not a hate post about how Gladiator should have been about Maximus and his wife and son, and how I hate Lucilla and Lucius' story and think it contradicts that blah blah blah. NO. The storyline with Lucilla, Lucius, and Maximus is one of the strong points of the whole movie — but not as a replacement for the family he has lost.

In a lot of ways, Lucilla represents Rome as the ideal Maximus always believed in: beautiful, noble, and proud. When he becomes disillusioned with Rome, he becomes disillusioned with Lucilla; when he starts to believe in the hope of Rome again, he starts to believe in Lucilla again. They're always linked. Lucilla is not the woman he wants to start over with and marry now that his wife is gone. She is an old friend and ally whom he eventually learns to trust again.

Lucius, on the other hand, represents what Rome can be again. Lucius is the grandson of Marcus Aurelius, and I think Maximus longs to honor his mentor by preserving the life of his last living heir. Lucius reminds Maximus of his son, yes, and he brings out the protectiveness and the desire to do for Lucius what he couldn't do for his own son. But that doesn't mean Lucius has to be his son for that relationship to have emotional impact, as I will explain further in point 5.

4. Maximus' relationships with Lucilla and Lucius are genuinely integral to the film, but as they are — not as what they could be.

Again, I absolutely love the dynamics between Maximus, Lucilla, and Lucius throughout Gladiator. Russell and Connie play off each other so well with those "I remember how you used to be but that was a long time ago" vibes. Russell and Spencer Treat Clark only share one scene, but it's one of the film's most memorable scenes.

However, we are not meant to question those relationships as "oooooh but what if Lucius is actually Maximus' son????" Maybe Ridley left that door open for the audience to consider, but again, I feel like the film contradicts that by implying that Lucilla and Maximus loved each other much longer ago.

When you make Lucius Maximus' son, Lucilla's seeking out of Maximus as his savior becomes less interesting. It becomes "I'm calling on you to save your son even though you don't know he's your son" instead of "I'm asking you to act out of the goodness inside you to save a boy who doesn't deserve to die any more than your own son did." The version we see in Gladiator is so much more impactful.

It also cheapens what Lucius' journey could have been in Gladiator 2! Again, @streets-in-paradise pointed out how much better the sequel could have been if Lucius had been acting in the shadow of a brilliant man who captivated the city of Rome but also was his friend for a little while. As I'll discuss in point 6, having the reveal of Lucius as Maximus' son is just the laziest possible route for a sequel, and it certainly drags down the dignity of the relationships we see in Gladiator.

5. One of the strengths of Maximus' choice to fight for Lucius' survival in Gladiator lies in the fact that he doesn't have any familial obligation to him.

This is one of my favorite points, because I do love the dynamics between Maximus and little Lucius! Maximus has a bone-deep obligation to save his family — he rides for days and nights to get home and save them, but he misses them by a matter of hours. He wrestles with guilt and misery because he feels like he failed them. He was supposed to be their protector, and he couldn't save them.

BUT. Maximus has no such blood ties to Lucius. This kid is the son of Maximus' ex, the grandson of Maximus' dead mentor, and the nephew of his most hated enemy. Maximus doesn't have an obligation to Lucius as his father: he doesn't even know him until Lucius approaches him in the arena.

And that's what makes his decision to fight for Lucius so powerful. Maximus sees Lucius as the hope of Rome, and he decides that's still worth fighting for — something he had given up on before. Even though he has no obligation to save Lucius as his son, he wants to save him as an innocent young boy caught in political matters over his head.

Again, making Lucius Maximus' son cheapens the impact of that decision. Ridley Scott built up so many amazing plot points and relationships, and it really disappoints me that he just cast them aside to make some easy money by relying on the success of the original.

6. Relying on such a trite, overused plot point to make up the emotional foundation of your sequel can only weaken your sequel and ruin the dignity of your original film.

My final point is simply that Gladiator 2 could have been really well done. They could have done something original with it (or something totally off-the-wall like Russell Crowe's vision LOL). But I think Ridley Scott was banking on that nostalgia factor, and he chose a plot point that he knew would be easily marketable — the hero of the second film is the hero of the first film.

We've seen it done literally hundreds of times, from Star Wars to Superman to Toy Story, and having that be the big reveal of Gladiator 2 is just lazy writing. To have Lucius trying to live up to the legacy of Maximus the hero would have been interesting. To have Lucius discover that he's the son of literally anyone else would have been interesting. To have Lucius discover that he's the son of Maximus is an eye-roll-inducing move that should have been trailer bait and nothing more.

Primarily! Because it can't be the emotional foundation of the movie! Lucius has to have his own journey if it's his movie; he can't just walk in Maximus' footsteps and be like, "Father, speak to me," if he's not going on his own individual emotional journey. We as the audience have to relate to our hero because he's our hero, not because he's the son of our hero.

I'll be honest — I probably wouldn't go see a sequel to Gladiator no matter what it was about because I think Gladiator is a perfect standalone movie and should have stayed that way. I just don't think you can recreate the scale and impact and simplicity of Gladiator in today's film industry.

However, I could at least have had respect for a sequel to Gladiator if Ridley Scott had shown some respect for his own movie. I just hate the fact that Maximus' noble, honorable character is reduced to a cheating husband whose only character trait of note is that he served Rome. Maximus is one of the best characters of the 21st century, and I love him too much to support a movie that trashes that legacy (as well as tries to replicate the beauty of my favorite film of all time).

Final thoughts:

Gladiator is a movie. You can read into it whatever you want, and it doesn't hurt anyone.

I love Gladiator more than I can say, and it's really important to me not just as a cultural icon but on a personal level as well.

Anyone who knows this blog knows how much I love Maximus Decimus Meridius, and Ridley's choice to change Maximus' character so drastically is one that really just ticks me off.

To me personally, Gladiator 2 is not canon, and I will never consider it so on this blog.

[greml1nb0i]

THE HAZBIN LEAKS SHOW THAT S2 WILL ONLY GET WORSE: Characters

OK so my first gripe,

Emily's song is ear bleedingly annoying. Idk who her VA is but omg, idk if she's tone deaf or if they just have her mouth directly into the mic but my gods woman. STEP BACK you are assaulting my brain with these nonstop high sopranos.

Also the literal shot of Sir P trying to kill himself cuz of how either how annoying Emily is being or the fact he misses his friend, regardless it was a WILD fucking scene to show. Suicide isn't off the table for Viv's jokes, i guess.

Speaking of Sir P, his reason for being in Hell is so fucking stupid.

How tf is being scared of Jack The Ripper a sin?! His sin is just being scared of being murdered if he spoke out.

THAT'S JUST NORMAL HUMAN BEHAVIOR, WHAT?!

I hate to break it to you Viv, but not everyone is going to act like a macho hero when they see a damned murder!! Most people fucking run and hide! Why? CUZ THEY DONT WANNA DIE! They don't want to be targeted if shit goes south.

Also what is the thought process here in making his sin being just "cowardice"?? Viv are you trying to say that people who have most def been in Sir P's shoes, [witnessing a murder] are cowards that deserve to go to hell?? What's the motive here? Am i missing something?? Is being too afraid to be murdered, a sin??

Also apparently he was sent to Heaven for "saving Cherri Bomb"

save her from what?

Last i checked, in the final ep; he just kisses her as she's about to through a bomb and then says "i love you, remember me" only to have one of the most anti climatic "deaths" in the show. She wasnt even being attacked or threatened in anyway. So where tf does the plot point of "i saved her" come in??

Also can we talk about these fuck-ass human designs for Sir P and Alastor??

I don't mind Sir P's as much as i hate Alastor's. Its the fact Viv doesnt know wtf she's doing when she makes these designs.

Sir P just looks like a generic guy. One look at him and you cannot tell what time period he's from, same goes for Alastor. They could easily be frickin neighbors in the early or late 90s but no, they're supposedly from different timelines.

Alastor iirc is from the 1940-50s, and Sir P is from the 1800s, [Jack the rippers final kill was 1863-1888]

Why, Viv, cant you do any research for the time periods YOUR characters come from??

Why do they both look like cartoon barbers; not a radio show host and not a genius inventor?? Like did you even look at the differences in fashion and culture for any of these characters?!

Men fashion from the late 1800s looked like this:

This is [white] Men's fashion in the 1940-1950s:

See Viv, their fashion styles are different and shouldn't look the same at all. Why does every character have pinstripes, if it doesnt even reflect that time period in an authentic way??

And to add a cherry on top, this is what African American men would wear in Alastor's time period:

Do you see the difference in styles Viv?

Black men were not given the same nice everyday casual wear that white men did. They often wore hand-me-downs or had to work their asses off to just afford 1 nice looking suit.

you wanna know why?? Cuz Viv, the Jim Crow laws were still in full affect til the late 60s and early 70s. They were not seen as people, black men and women were still heavily discriminated against and were even still being victims of-

[MAJOR TW FOR RACISIT STUFF]

lynching's. Alastor would feel lucky, he only got mistaken for a deer and shot; he could have, and probably did, go through much much worse in his actually living life.

Tell me you didn't do any research for your characters without telling me you didn't do any research for your characters.

TLDR; So not only is Viv using more gross jokes in her next season, but the character designs have gotten even worse.

Lmk what you want the next topic to be about, if i missed anything you would've liked mentioned here, lmk in comments or asks and i'll reply. I reply to everyone as long as you arent being a jerk.

EDIT:

I've been made away that Alastor didn't in fact live in the 1940s and 50s but the 1930s. i will say most of my points still stand, but here the men's fashion for his time period.

also that makes his radio show even more of an impossible achievement, in the 1930s majority, if not, half of the black men in America were out of work cuz of racism, discrimination and segregation, ya know, cuz the Jim Crow. White people called for African Americans to be fired from any jobs as long as there were whites out of work. Racial violence again became more common, especially in the South.

Tell me again Viv, how tf did Alastor even thrive??

[azure-tiamat]

I see your great story and, as a writer, add 3 more people into this chaos:

What would also be hilarious is if, during this, Jazz Fenton uses the Family's Pseudo-Spaceship to crash into the Watchtower like 'how are you guys so incompetent you have at least 10 more years of experience with illegal affairs than them!'

Superman would try to calm this frazzled redhead down while the rest are a) trying to find out who she is, b) why she is there, c) where she got that ship from.

The reason for why makes some sense but it raises more questions instead. Like, it's a throwback to the 'aliens have lived amongst us for decades' conspiracy theory, and the one that makes the most sense.

60% of the JL are now convinced that the villain accidentally kidnapped a bunch of aliens, if not metas, that hid on a school trip. It would also explain why that leader of theirs (the redheads younger brother) said 'not again' as alien/ meta kidnapping would be more likely than a repeated kidnapping of some normal teenagers.

They don't figure how they are right and wrong with that assumption, except it's the grey line in between all that that counts as truth.

Anyways, Jazz not only bypasses their repeated attempts at authority (roasting them for not having preventive measures against a known threat while also making a list of signs of mental illnesses in the JL on her phone - yes, she plans to make them the target of her graduation paper) she groans at their work so far before getting a weird boomerang out of her backpack. When asked whatever she's gonna use that for they got this: "I've raised or helped that Class survive a pirate mutiny and school, I will find them and there's not a force in this world or the afterlife that will make me stop!!"

She throws it for Danny and finds Dani, much to Superman's mounting horror cuz that kid looks like the leader and is that villain secretly cloning-

Jazz asks Dani if she could go home and look for Skulker. She figured if someone wants to hunt her brother they should at least meet the guy who'd tried before them.

Yes, the red flags keep increasing to the steadily rising confusion and horror of the JL, not counting the group currently in-charge of watching the life feed of the trapped kids- The PDA kid just smacked a scorpion with a stone and ate it!! Why, cuz he wanted to die? No. He and the goth girl were arguing cuz there were only berries, nuts and green vegan options her scavenger hunt brought and boi said "I crave meat".

Long story short: Tucker's signal brings the JL and Jazz, while Dani has Skulker give their kidnapped a lesson on "you did a terrible job, and how DARE you steal my prey you mortal himbo!"

There should be a dp x dc ver of Danny's class stranded in the middle of nowhere and they are unaware that they are being recorded live for the entire world, with the superhero communities pressured to find them.

[citruzs]

Life series session 7 predictions

(I wrote this myself, don't worry if you saw it on the wiki discussion page, that was me <3. A day late bc Thanksgiving was crazy, Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrated it, btw)

Jimmy will perma-die, as well as two other people.

There will be at least one lime green left over for session 8, OR the last time green will be killed this session.

Someone will be the direct reason for someone's death, and will feel terrible about it.

A big betrayal will happen (BigB does not count because he's been ping-ponging from The G's to Ren and Martyn, UNLESS he kills Ren, Martyn, or one of the G's)

Grian will move in with the Family or try and move in with the Bamboozlers after Tim will supposedly die.

One of the G's will perma-die

Someone will kill Ren and Martyn will want revenge

Someone will genuinely kill Gem and she will give them props but will get revenge later

Tango will be murdered, presumably by Grian for Skizz

Wildcard guesses 😎

(OKAY SO I WAS LURKING ON TUMBLR AND I SAW SKIZZ'S AND MUMBO'S SKIN CHANGE AND I'M SO EXCITED FOR TMRW, AND MY GUESSES WILL BE BASED OF OFF IT)

Kind of like that one session of Secret life, but Zombie tag. Mumbo and Skizz will rise from their graves tagging (killing) people, who will then kill someone else and it will spread like a virus. (I think this will get rid of all the lime greens, and get everyone to red and at least a few yellows)

Mumbo and Skizz are either allowed in creative mode for a short amount of time, or they will be decked out and told to kill people. (Skizz will go for Tango if this is the case.)

Mumbo and Skizz can activate wildcards whenever they want, Including ones that haven't been done yet.

That's all I could come up with, excited for next session!! :D

[inbred-mothman]

bro steb is my favorite background character lol. love my boy. also i hc him to be selectively mute <3

Now give me your steb headcanons or else *grabs TNT* :D /hj

How does it feel to be my first ask? Jk ik it feels amazing /j

Anyway, more Steb HCs below the cut :3

After the war, officers got an optional few months off. Steb took it, understanding how important it'd be for his health, but the time isn't spent the way it was intended to be. He spends the time still training and working out, volunteering in the medical field, and just reflecting on everything that has happened.

He is EXTREMELY hurt about Maddie's betrayal. As Enforcers, their trust is a heavy thing to have, especially having been in the strike team and positioned together. Their trust was life or death in so many instances. He saved her, and she was willing to just let him die at spear point. She manipulated him. So it's not that out there to think that he'd have some subconscious trust issues. Both having the fear that they'll die or the fear that they don't mean it when they try to gain his trust.

He tried to hand in his badge after finding out that Maddie wasn't who he thought she was. She was partially the reason he was promoted to the strike team and after that, so it doesn't feel deserved. Of course the station didn't accept it though.

Now onto some more.. Light hearted ones

He smells like petrichor

His frills are more sensitive than the rest of the skin in that area

He has 2 more sets of gills, one set on his collar bones and another along his ribs

He likes bitter things like dark chocolate and black coffee, however he also really likes tart things

Hes good at cooking, I don't think he's like.. a chef or anything but he's good at following a recipe

Steb is 100% the type to, while walking down a sidewalk or something, tap you on the opposite shoulder and snicker when you turn to look

Hes always got to be doing something for someone, his love language is acts of service. You're cold? He immediately gets up to get you a blanket. Headache? Have some ibuprofen. Tired? He's taking care of everything that day.

I hope you enjoy my ramblings

[rockybloo]

My question Is why hasnt Bitterbat killed Tangyrin after being challenged again and again?

I'm gonna take this ask as a chance to talk about Bitterbat and the way he "Bitterbats" through life.

I know I've built Bitterbat up as a merciless monster who won't hesitate to end anyone who gets in the way of him being with his Sweetie Pie...

because he is

BUT he also has a side of him that is much more logical and reasonable This is the piece of him that keeps him from going on a murdering spree and this is what keeps him from being Lord Vile 2.0. It's what makes him a better king than many of the others in Umbra history.

And because Bitterbat is so strong, there are many things that are more so minor annoyances than full on obstacles. He knows with his strength, he can solve things without resorting to full on murder.

So there will be multiple characters throughout Glitter and Guilt that Bitterbat spares from an early death because, yeah, they're annoying but they aren't "Die right now now" material.

Truth be told, at the time of me answering this question - Bitterbat hasn't killed anyone "on screen" yet. WITHIN THE TIMEFRAME OF BITTERBAT BEING SEPARATED FROM SWEETHEART, HE DEF HAS but I'm talking about all the scenes y'all have scene in the current chapters of Monstrums after getting "smoked" by Bitterbat. None of them are dead. TRAMATIZED? YES. But not dead.

☝🏾This specific scene right here and dialogue right here was meant to show that Bitterbat, when it comes to handling his own problems, doesn't kill unless he is threatened. And because he is so strong, it takes a lot to threaten him.

This isn't a mindset he applies to Sweetheart and their relationship, because honestly speaking, he is much stronger than her so he is much more protective over her and her feelings. There are way more things that he considers as threatening to her and their relationship. And because these are technically "threats" he often resorts to more extreme tactics.

But when it comes to himself, he's much more likely to spare a soul.

[madockisser]

is it strange that i want to know what cardan like thinks abt like everything- especially mortal shit. like i want to see what he thinks of different films, music, celebrities, books, or mortal clothing, etc. like idk i just obsess over what he’d think about certain things.

Random faerie lore- specially cardan/ faeries in the mortal world

LOL i hope not because i do that! also thank you for asking this, i was hoping someone should ask something that would allow me to spew my faerie in mortal world knowledge out!

now- honestly cardan and that Alice and wonderland book is what made me fall head over heels for him

i remember seeing it on TikTok years ago, about how Alice and wonderland is a mortal book that mirrors Jude’s life, and that cardan saw Jude in Alice.

and i hadn’t even considered it before, i was young and didn’t gaf abt little details, but look at me now, delving into every little thing abt that series.

since cardan is fae, it’s natural for us to wonder at how he sees the world and Jude.

below are some things i PERSONALLY think he may like or dislike about the mortal world.

i think he’d really enjoy learning the history of human music, i think he would like classical music (seems most likely)

i love to think that he’d get obsessed w how Jude is Latina and want to learn more about that part of human culture. I feel like he’d encourage Jude to do so too, since elfhame is all about HIS culture and whatnot.

he’d probably also like casually reading about human history, cross referencing it with faerie history and stuff, but also having to unlearn any biases both humans and faeries may write in their history books

i don’t think he’d like celebrities much, since he isn’t fond of “fake people” and that’s pretty much every celeb (sorry) BUT i think he would enjoy watching their drama lol, if it were like the early 2000s or even 2010s i feel like he would have fun w that sort of reality show vibe

he’d probably adore human poetry, like the old ones, and he’d probably enjoy older movies too. i can imagine him enjoying Shakespeare (bro would love Romeo and Juliet and compare it to him and Jude) and liking the ballet or marching bands or something random like that (😭)

anyway i just know he LOVES Jude’s mortal underclothes, lowkey he’d probably love the thought that she’s the only one in elfhame wearing them (he’d also probably see them as sorta sexual, only because when i think of faerie underclothes i think of a nightgown and possibly a corset, which doesnt show a ton of skin, whereas a bra and panties are wayyy more revealing)

you didn’t mention food, but there’s a ton of salt in mortal food, but i still think he’d eat it anyway. i guess the way salt works is that it just dulls magics(?) like it won’t physically harm him, but his magic won’t be very strong, like a depressant drug or something (is that a weird comparison 😭) BUT it reminds me of how nevermore is like an enhancer drug, so does that mean nevermore is the opposite of salt? (Literally just spewing nonsense atp)

but he liked dumplings, i think he would like other Asian foods. he’d hate pickles bc of the salt content, and he’d hate chips for the same reason i feel like. he’d probably love a good fruit salad (giggling at this) and trying all the human fruits that they don’t have in elfhame (also desserts)

anyway faeries have to be careful about chemicals, vivienne buys all organic shampoos and body washes, so we can assume she has to be careful with the same. it’s to be noted that her and oakey eat fish sticks and chemically dyed cereal, AND also pain pills? so i guess what they consume doesn’t have to be completely natural?

Add on: in the modern faerie tales, faeries cannot smoke cigarettes or they pretty much die on the spot according to roiben, when Kaye takes a drag her eyes water she she starts choking. ALSO corny in tmft, sprays a faerie in the face w a cleaning spray and bro dies on the spot so…

personally, i think the more checmially foods they eat, the worse they feel, and the lower energy they have. faeries seem to run on the foods they eat like it’s fuel, soo eating human food is probably not too great for them. vivi seems to be doing fine tho(perhaps bc she’s half human AND she grew up eating that stuff? Same w Kaye). Makes sense why oaks a vegan as well in tsh.

anyway imagining cardan in the mortal world is funny but weird, like he totally doesn’t fit lol

what i can remember from htkoelths, he seemed used to the strangeness. like he expected it.

since elfhame seems so small compared to the mortal world, i assume that some faeries are pretty casually human like, in terms of clothing and even behaviors (based on the bomb, kaye, etc)

also a lot of them (the ones not from elfhame or living on the isles) live nearby humans, so they’re pretty used to them I’d say.

It makes sense for the fae to be used to humans, since they’re everywhere. they’re also in elfhame, whether they’re glamoured or no.

anyway, cardan had access to the mortal world, so who knows how often he really went and dropped off slaves, or just went to visit.

balekin probably took him once and was like “damn little bro, look at all this hot garbage! Humans suck so I’m gonna use them to belittle you! haha”

anyway, i refuse to put anything else in my drafts bc im scared my drafts are slowly disappearing (BTW someone sent me a Locke and cardan ask the other day, and IT GOT DELETED after i wrote half of it, so if it was you that sent it, resend it perchance bc i forgot what the question even was)

on that note, thank you for the ask! this was messy and randomly thrown together lol but i liked writing it 🫶 feel free to add on as always!!

[reignof-fyre]

I'm adding to this, because apparently Severus merely joining the Death Eaters automatically makes him a murdering, mind-raping monster.

Severus was, from the beginning, treated like shit. His mother was indifferent, his father an abusive drunk. Of course, he would paint all mugges with the same brush as his father, an abuser due to Sev's being magical. Of course, he'd hate them. That is understandable.

His only brief moments of happiness as a child were with Lily, who overlooked his poverty, his "greasyness" etc, and befriended him anyway, and of course he clung to that friendship as the best thing that ever happened to him, because at that point, it was the best thing ever.

Hogwarts was Sev's escape from his father and mother, his abysmal home life. He was going with his best friend, the one good thing he had. Then, on the train, before any kind of sorting or getting-to-know could happen, James Potter insulted Snape and began his bullying for no apparent reason, other than James' bigoted beliefs.

Severus' sanctuary (Hogwarts) is marred before it even truly begins. He's sorted into Slytherin, and likely looked down upon because 1) he's dirt poor 2) he's a half-blood and 3) he's, oh, the horror, a Slytherin.

Slytherin, at Hogwarts, has been synonymous for "evil in the making" for some time. James Potter targeted Severus because of this, and he and his Maurauders made Severus' school life hell. Sev likely did all he could do to survive in Slytherin, which was conform or, during the political upheaval of the 70's, die.

Severus conformed to his Death Eater roommates' views and standards to survive, which is self-preservation at its finest. He mimicked their words and beliefs to fit in and be overlooked. If he had stood up to them, one against fuck knows how many supremacists, he'd have likely never made it out alive.

Severus made the best of a terrible situation, and the ostracism from his peers and Lily ending their friendship over a word blurted in distress pushed Severus further into the Death Eaters grasp.

I'm not saying that Severus never had a choice because he absolutely did, but the only choice he likely felt at that time was join or die. He was a Slytherin, had darker inclinations, and likely felt like he would finally belong amongst the Death Eaters, with people like him.

Severus learned the hard way how wrong he was, and did his best to get out of such a situation, and dedicated the rest of his life to making up for his mistakes.

And, in my eyes, he more than succeeded.

I don't hear people insisting that Draco and Regulus were evil, irredeemable monsters, when they also happily joined, also to rethink their actions and wanted an out. Draco even put Madame Rosmerta under the imperius and nearly got Katie killed during his quest to kill Dumbledore.

The moral is this: some people felt they didn't have a choice but to conform to what was expected of them (Sev as a Slytherin, Draco as a Malfoy, and Regulus as a Black) to survive, which is such a human thing to do, only to realize they fucked up and tried and do better. All three of these men redeemed themselves in my eyes, and they're all quite similar.

All of their redeeming actions helped Harry end Voldemort, in the end.

Just read a reddit thread and the op said "just realized that Snape only begged Voldemort for Lily's life, not James and Harry"

Yes, and I'd do the same. Why would Snape beg for Potter's life when Potter spent their school years verbally, physically, and sexually abusing him? Why would he beg for the life of a man he despised? Or the child who Voldemort wants dead, because that would end with Severus dead and, y'know, no spy for the Order.

Voldemort only agreed to let Lily live because Severus, who brought him a snippet of the prophesy, asked, and he bestowed that "gift" on Sev for his loyalty and dedication to the Death Eaters. If Sev then stretched whatever minuscule good will he had with Voldy by asking for James (his actual abuser) and the prophesy child (the child Voldy thought was a very real threat and wanted dead due to his insanity) he'd have been AK'd before he could blink, and then where the fuck would the order be without Severus Snape, spy extraordinare?

Harry would have diedvor been seriously injured first year when Quirrelmort was cursing his broom because the only one doing something was, you guessed it, Severus. Snape. All the other teachers were gaping with their thumbs up their arseholes. Because most of the teachers at hogwarts are. useless.

Severus Snape is not a good person, even I as a Pro Snape Simp Bitch can admit that. He's cold and cruel and caustic, but he is a great man. He more than deserved his redemption arc. He sacrificed everything in the name of love to protect the reckless idiot Harry James Potter and risked his life and literal soul to do as Dumbledore bid, as casting the killing curse actually marrs the soul, y'know.

You don't have to be a nice person to deserve redemption. You just have to be good and do the right thing.