#and like the fact that they managed to make the movie a commentary on the brand itself and what it Represents Culturally

[dashiellqvverty-backup]

the thing about "barbie is a commercial!!!" is like. yeah. a commercial starring margot robbie. so i will be there opening day :)

[sporesgalaxy]

Pacific Rim isn't anti-nuclear in the same way Kaiju movies usually are. The resolution is facilitated by the detonation of a nuclear warhead and a nuclear reactor power core. So........what's up with that?

I mean, it's deeply American, obviously, but what else? Why does it not feel particularly pro-war in the same way, say, a typical MCU does? What does it mean that the Kaiju are prompted by human activity (carbon pollution "practically terraformed" Earth for the invading aliens), but are ultimately not a true manifestation of Nature's Wrath (not even from Earth)?

What arguments is Pacific Rim making in the place of the typical kaiju movie anti-nuclear-pollution, wrath-of-nature fare?

I stream-of-consciousness rambled about this for multiple paragraphs and don't feel like cleaning it up much. Basically: I think Pacific Rim is a commentary on the myriad problems with political responses to climate change over the years.

•••

So, in the Great American Kaiju Movie, two nuclear blasts save the day rather than creating all the problems. Despite the fact that at least one of those nuclear blasts still probably did a lot of collateral.... I do wish Pacific Rim had focused a bit more on collateral, and the environmental damage caused by both the Kaiju and, inevitably, the Jaeger project AND Wall of Peace. Food rations are mentioned once-- but surely metal and construction equiptment rationing must also be in place to allow for wall construction! I want my environmental messages shoved violently down the audience's throat, damnit! But I digress

I think an important detail to consider in the Kaiju/Nuclear discussion is how Mako and Raleigh's Jaeger's nuclear power generator is what really allowed them to save the world, multiple times.

The history of politics around nuclear power plants vs nuclear warhead production is interesting, especially in the typical kaiju movie thematic context of man carelessly abusing nature. The argument in defense of nuclear power plants is that, despite the need for extremely rigerous and long-term nuclear waste disposal considerations, there is a lower volume of waste created by nuclear power plants in relation to the energy provided by them, when compared to other modern methods of energy generation like coal power. So, in theory, nuclear energy could be a beneficial power source for minimizing environmental impact.

In the Kaiju movies I've seen, nuclear power is only ever addressed as an extension of the inherently unnatural and harmful abomination of the invention of.the nuclear warhead. It's understandable, the environmental devastation caused by radioactive pollution is massive, and its something a nuclear power plant is very capable of doing if enough goes wrong.

So, what do the Jaegers represent within this conversation? what does the Wall of Peace represent? Here's my thought: they represent (more) active versus passive solutions to the growing threat of climate change. Jaegers represent the way that active work against climate change is only funded as far as it is beneficial to the image of the government.

Yes, the Rift was found to be impossible to blow up with nukes, but it's pretty clear that the world governmemts were putting more money into the publically popular and flashy Jaeger program than they were putting into researching the increase in Kaiju frequency and a permanent solution to the issue. Because of the complicity the world fell into once Kaiju and Jaegers were Rock Stars, the root of the issue with Kaiju goes unadressed for an entire generation, in favor of defeating each Kaiju in impressive and propogand-izable ways.

Only once the problem becomes too big for the propoganda-friendly Jaegers to manage do the world governments start looking for alternate solutions, and the Wall is immediately shown to be too little too late. As soon as it stops being useful for propoganda, the government loses interest in truly solving the problem, and begins investing in moving itself inland and leaving poor coastal populations to die.

The kaiju are only able to be defeated in Pacific Rim because a group of people separate from the government comes together and searches for a solution to the root of the issue-- the Rift being open in the Pacific at all.

Nuclear power is therefore not posed as a solution to war against fellow humans, but is used as a solution to a collective human effort to fight the exponentially speeding destruction of the Earth. The Jaeger pilots and everyone else working in the resistance HAVE to be willing to do anything, willing to take drastic active measures, in order to stop the destruction of the Earth's climate. Yay :)

[marciabrady]

Despite poor commentaries throughout the years that seem to be based on prior critiques rather than the actual substance of the original 1937 Princess, Snow White is a very admirable character and has a myriad of positive qualities that make for a great role model. Apart from coping with losing both of her parents at a very young age and being, not only abused by her only parental figure left but also, forced into slavery- by someone who practices magic, no less, someone she had no chance against- Snow White also has a business intelligence. She never, ever expects the dwarfs to take her in out of the goodness of their hearts and just naively depend on the kindness of strangers, nor does she wait for her Prince to save her while she’s stranded in the middle of the woods without food and shelter. 

Actively seeking out a place of refuge, she finds the empty cottage and quickly decides to work for her stay. She identifies a gap she can fill, and applies the skills of cooking and cleaning she’s mastered- not because they’re traditionally feminine activities and this movie is trying to turn back feminism, but because it’s the only trade she knew as a result of being forced into servitude from childhood by another woman- to an environment that’s in dire need of these abilities. With this, she barters an exchange for room and board and convinces a roomful of seven men, who start off not liking her and ascribing their own misogynistic views onto her, in mere minutes to accept her as their equal, as someone who they’re not simply taking pity on and allowing to stay with them, but as a contributing member who earns her keep just as the rest of the house does and is just as worthy of respect. What’s more, Snow White manages to accomplish all this and improve the quality of her life drastically in exchange for the same services she would have been doing anyway if she never left Queen Grimhilde’s castle.

So, in conclusion: by escaping her abusive household and conquering her fear in the forest, Snow White picks herself back up on her feet- after she’s nearly the victim of a homicide- and goes out into the world. She creates a new life for herself by finding a home and shelter, and quantifying her marketable skills to gain effective employment. She never throws around her status as a Princess nor does she expect a pity handout from others. She literally crafts a position for herself that makes her just as worthy of inhabiting the cottage as the Dwarfs by merit of her own hard work and skill- not her beauty, or her privilege, or her birth right as a Princess- and gains their respect, while still being comfortable asserting herself when they try to test her or disregard her authority as their equal. Through her insurmountable ability to rise above her circumstances, her sheer survival skills, and the fact that she literally creates a job for herself to sustain her livelihood, Snow White is a modern woman.

[captainofthedauntless]

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Rise Leonardo x Reader imagine

Info + Warnings: Reader's having a bad time. It's fluff anyway. No gendered language, pronouns, or Y.N used for Reader. Friends-to-lovers type beat, yearning era. Set a few years post movie. Suggestive comments, maybe.

Commentary: This is not proof read.

He loves this.

Not- not whatever your head's doing, with the grim skies and that far away look you get every now and again and the fact that your sleep's shit and- well, not that.

The way you're laying on his floor.

He'd left the room long enough to grab some snack mix- because it's easy, it's quick, you like it, and there's something almost like nutrition there, protein probably- and when he walks back in, you're on your back on the floor, arms draped by your head, one ankle tossed over the other knee as you stare at the ceiling.

He has literal benches against the wall of the old subway car. A bean bag chair. Your favorite chair is in the corner, the one he's all but verbally declared your seat, that he always throws a hoodie in (out of convenience, mind you. That's all. No ulterior motives here, no sir). His entire bed is free- and made, thank you- and yet you're sprawled on his floor as though social norms are nonexistent here.

He really, really likes that idea.

"Comfy?" He asks playfully, moving around you with ease.

You hum a yes, and he glances back at you.

You're tired. He knows that already. But somehow, the bags beneath your eyes look darker from this angle. The weight that's been holding your sunny smile back from its full force is almost visible here.

He gets hit with a wave of want- want to fix it, want to hold you, want to make it better- so hard that he feels it physically, just beneath his plastron, fierce and yearning in his chest.

An irrational part of him thinks you must feel it somehow, because you glance over at him as it happens. "What?"

"Trying to remember the last time I swept," He quips instinctively.

You roll your eyes- the way that means you're amused, the way that he chases like a dog after a ball- and they settle back on the ceiling. "Somehow, I think I'll manage a little dirt."

It's not quite right. It's off center. Off the mark. Your voice- it's just to the right of where it should be. It's missing its shine, the playful way you meet him where he lives and make his quips-and-wordplay house your home too.

Luckily, he's pretty damn mobile.

So he moves. He nudges you with his foot, and you move your arm to lay across your torso and clear a spot for him, and he easily drops down next to you and passes you one of the bottles of water he'd grabbed and sets the snack mix between you.

He lays down next to you in whatever this other house is, and he can feel the cobwebs trying to cling to you.

"Hi," He says softly, staring at the ceiling.

"Hi," You repeat, and it's monosyllabic and neutral and means nothing but he feels like you're making a space for him at your table.

It feels like an invitation, an acceptance, like a "why don't you stay for dinner?".

He thinks he'd stay forever, if it'd help. He's good with a duster. He can help tidy things up, if you let him.

Leo wants to ask why you moved in. What brought you here, to this dreary, haunted-looking old place.

"Wanna watch some Vine greatest hits?" He asks instead.

Not even half an hour later, your breathing has all but convinced him that you're asleep.

He's fighting the urge to check, not wanting to risk waking you up somehow.

Instead, he reaches up and into his little viewing-portal, turning his phone down slightly where it's resting on his bed. (No tired arms, no piecing together a makeshift phone stand, no risk of dropping it on your face. As easy as portals are to maintain these days, it's a no-brainer.)

The screen goes dark as another compilation ends, and instead of hitting "Play" on the suggested video, he finds your face in the reflection.

You look asleep. You look tired, and it aches a little to see.

He can let his eyes linger, now, with yours closed, so he reaches up to turn his screen off.

You're still gorgeous, he thinks with a fond half-hearted frustration. Even exhausted.

When he gets into these dark places, he looks like a wreck.

When you do it, he wants to pull you in by the waist and kiss it better.

Fucking ridiculous.

He finds himself trying to match his breath to yours. Inhale, small pause, exhale, longer pause, inhale, and in that second small pause he realizes this is how he always feels. Like you're synced, like you give him a rhythm to rely on, like you give him something to orbit around when he's knocked out of place.

It's not a new thought, but the analogizing makes something shift in his chest to make room for the sheer size of the feeling.

He loves you. That's not news. You're one of his closest friends- his closest, maybe- and he loves you.

But he's been having the dangerous thought that he might love you, lately.

Might be in love with you.

And when you do things like instinctively look at him right as he glances your way and play off of his jokes like a tennis match and text him pictures of the sunset just because you think it's pretty, he thinks it's more than a might.

But now, something's dragging rainclouds into your sky. And you've found your way to his floor, his space, his company. Again.

He'd barely even had to offer it on the phone earlier, hearing the gray in your voice and tossing the idea of company your way.

You'd barely even had to consider it. You'd just said you'd have to stop by your place, first, and set your stuff down.

You were tired enough to fall asleep, and still came.

You're comfortable enough on his floor, in his space, in his company to fall asleep.

And, if the way he knows in his bones he'd sit here for forever if it means not disturbing you is any indication, he's fallen into something else entirely.

Something that feels like listening to the ocean hit the piers, something that feels like the humming of all of Donnie's security gadgets, something that feels like brushing against his Ninpō. It's familiar, consistent, comforting.

You make a little moaning sound eventually, rolling your shoulders some and inhaling deeply as you rejoin the land of the conscious.

It sends blood straight to his cheeks, and he tries not to think about anywhere else.

"Sorry," you mumble, voice thick and syrupy from sleep.

For half a second, he thinks you're apologizing for the sound, and he's trying to figure out how to tell you to never apologize for that ever, and actually, do way more of it.

Then his brain takes over, shuts his body up, and points out that you probably meant for falling asleep.

"Nah," He says lazily, the picture of chill. You could commit a murder on his floor and he doesn't think he'd care much.

"Didn't mean to fall asleep," You continue, groggy as you dig the heel of your palm into your eye. "How long was I out?"

He has no idea. "An hour, maybe?"

He catches your eye in the reflection on his phone screen, and you tense, and then you soften again.

"You weren't just laying here, were you?" You ask, in that gentle hidden-guilt way of yours, and he kinda wants to shake you by the shoulders until your brain reconnects and realizes that he'd just lay there forever if you'd let him, attention span be damned.

He opts to tease you, instead. "Oh, so when you think the floor is comfy-"

"You have a shell," You point out dryly.

"You think a turtle can't enjoy the floor? Rude."

You grumble something about it being too early for this, and he doesn't even bother to bite back his grin.

"Thanks," You say after a minute, catching his eye again. Your features are soft and vulnerable and open, and he has to fight not to turn to you, to let you stay in the safety of a reflection. "For being here."

"Always," He says immediately, not even considering it. It's instinctive, reactive, true.

It makes you smile, and he thinks- knows- he's a goner.

He gets three proper laughs from you before you leave.

Two actual smiles, too. They're muted, but they're there, and he hopes he can keep his mental snapshots of them for forever. Longer than that.

You're still gray, still muted, still hazy, but you're here. You're bathed in the multi-colored light of his room and comfortable and safe, and he's wondering how he ever thought he might be in love.

And when you finally do leave- late, and only because you have life again tomorrow- he portals you straight to your room.

He catches your hand impulsively on your way out, giving it a quick squeeze, and smiling in what he hopes is a reassuring manner when you look at him.

You give him a small smile back, and it's resilient and strong and it feels like hope.

You're resilient and strong and feel like hope.

He's in love.

"Wanna do this again tomorrow?" He asks, sounding much more casual than he feels.

"I don't want to-" And you cut yourself off just as he feels an eyeroll building in his skull, bracing himself to hear bother you or be a pest or something similarly insane. "...Yeah. I do."

He squeezes your hand again and grins, and he has to swallow back something gooey and too-much. "Just say the word, and your chariot shall await," He says instead, tilting his head towards the portal.

You study him for a second, something calculating and scrutinizing in your eyes. "Thank you," You say softly, like you mean it.

"Always," He repeats softly, like he means it.

You step through the portal, your hand slipping from his, and he gives you a little salute before letting it close.

He glances at his bed.

He lays down on the floor, instead, and makes a mental note to actually sweep.

[biblio-smia]

hello!!! “kiss me harder” with mike :”schmidt!?

thank you!!! | part of v’s 800 follower celebration!

it was just a night out - a movie and some dinner. it was not anything particularly fancy and neither of you are particularly dressed up, but you both look incredible to the other all the same.

this type of romance is foreign to mike. he had dedicated hours to preparing himself, hyping himself up and trying not to get in his own head. he's managed to annoy abby with his nitpicking, her annoyed eye rolls and groans telling him he just needed to relax.

mike did, eventually, though he was still a little nervous about being himself throughout the night.

he had time to collect himself during the movie, where nothing but a few comments here and there were exchanged. this, at least, had given him a topic to discuss during dinner, where the commentary had eventually tapered off into regular conversation. mike had been surprised with how much he'd been able to make you laugh, his confidence boosting throughout the night.

mike is acutely aware of the disadvantages he faces now after so many years of isolation. he is vaguely aware of the hints he picks up a few moments too late and is embarrassingly aware of the red flush that forms on his face once he eventually does.

mike is determined to redeem himself. he is also unwilling to part from you just yet and, by the looks of it, you are too.

so, mike suggests that the two of you go for walk.

there's only so many little stores, empty and dim, to walk by but neither of you stop as the block ends. the conversation carries you two to a little bridge overlooking a small park.

you quiet eventually and mike begins doing mental cartwheels trying to find ways to fill the silence. you don't seem to mind the silence, though. mike tries to relax, drumming his fingers on the railing of the bridge. he turns his head slightly, just to sneak a glance at you, but finds you're already looking at him. mike looks away quickly, feeling his face turn red. he looks at you again. you haven't managed to tear your eyes off of him.

mike laughs, awkwardly. he doesn't want to look away, but the eye contact is making him nervous. the longer it goes on, the faster mike's heart beats. do you know the effect you have on him?

at this rate, mike is going to end up saying something stupid. he already feels stupid, like a teenage boy that has no idea what he's doing.

mike opens his mouth, grasping at straws, when you beat him to it.

"can i kiss you?"

the question renders mike completely speechless, his mouth opening and closing without getting a single sound out.

he eventually gives up and just nods, turning his body towards yours. he really can't take his eyes off of you now. mike is nervous, letting you take the lead. you pull mike in easily, encouraging him to take you by the waist.

you can feel the nerves roll off of him in waves. you inch closer and mike's breath catches in his throat.

he's useless, really. all he can do is close his eyes as he feels your lips on his. mike can think of nothing other than the fact that your lips are incredibly soft, his shoulders relaxing as he leans into the kiss.

it's over too quickly. you've pulled apart with a smile but mike's mind is too hazy to think coherently.

"kiss me harder."

mike, at least, notices the hints of surprise on your face, your eyes widening a little and your lips forming an o. he doesn't get the chance to feel embarrassed before you're kissing him again; harder, just like he asked.

mike is better prepared this time, cupping your face as he kisses you. if that first kiss left him breathless, this one will probably make him pass out. it's messy and not as gentle as before but it electrifies mike. he's left with a boost of confidence and an even stronger craving as soon as you've pulled away.

you're smiling at mike's expression, a mixture of disbelief and pure elation on his face. he's laughing before he can help it, his hands leaving you to hide his face. he's at least found a way to fill the silence, his laughter bubbling out of his chest easily. you join in, too, pulling his hands away from his face and keeping them in yours.

your hand doesn’t leave his as you begin the walk back. halfway through the trek, it occurs to you that mike doesn’t realize how his flushed cheeks and his timid demeanor, or his nervous glances have managed to enamor you.

mike, in just one night, might have managed to become exponentially more precious to you.

[ador3rin]

4:30am | happy birthday, dumbass

pairing : bakugo katsuki x f!reader

tags : fluff, childhood friends to lovers, college!au, extremely self indulgent

tw : alcohol usage (legal)

wc : 4452 words

once a year, every year, katsuki breaks his nightly routine of heading to bed at 8pm sharp in favour of sitting and waiting for the clock to countdown to midnight. the boy is dressed and out of the door by 11:45pm. 

glancing down at his phone to check the time, a warm breath escapes his lips as he comes to a stop, staring up at your bedroom window as he quietly opens the gate and heads for the front door. he doesn't knock, there's no need. the door swings open just as he shuts off his phone that reads 11:59pm, and he's met with your grinning face. 

"happy birthday, dumbass." bakugou grumbles, tearing his eyes up off the groud to take in the way the moon delicately shines upon your features. your eyes form crescents and you laugh softly, impatiently ushering the male inside before the chilly night air has another chance to bite at his flushed cheeks.

inside, you'd already prepared your living room for the 'ultimate movie night’ as you liked to put it. the couch was practically engulfed by a mountain of pillows and plushies, topped off with blankets thrown atop haphazardly. "i can’t believe your dumb ass is 16." katsuki scoffs as he makes himself comfortable, throwing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “this is for you, or whatever.” he shoves something soft and orange into your hands, eyes avoiding yours.

an orange fox stares up at you with beady little eyes, and you immediately recognised it’s lopsided little face. “katsuki! did you go back for him!?” you question with excitement, plopping down besides your friend and cooing over your gift. you had stopped by an arcade a few days ago with bakugou, and spent almost half your allowance on desperately trying (and failing) to win the toy, whining miserably on the walk back home. 

“tch, no. i just had some free time yesterday. it was easy peasy.” the blonde boasts with a cocky grin to match his tone. he’d in fact demanded some extra money off his old man, and went back there on a mission to bring home the ugly thing. “now are we gonna watch this stupid lion movie or what?”

your arms fling around him for a quick thank you hug that leaves his cheeks warm and ears red, before readying yourself for what would probably be the hundredth viewing of your favourite movie–the lion king. bakugou had recently admitted to never seeing it before, much to your horror, and you'd finally managed to get him to cave for your birthday. 

the two of you settle into a comfortable silence as the movie begins, that’s only disturbed with bakugou’s snarky commentary. luckily, he eventually begins to fall quieter and quieter as his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. it was way after his bedtime after all. about halfway through the film, the sounds of his even breathing signifies that he's knocked out cold. stifling your laughter as you gently reach to shut off the tv, you let out a small yawn before relaxing into your side of the couch with your new plushie and falling into a peaceful sleep. 

the next morning your mother discovers the two of you just as she'd expected to, a fond smile on her face as she snaps a picture of the troublesome duo to send to mitsuki. the two mothers gush over how cute their babies are and joke about how they’d wish you guys were as quiet together as when you were both asleep. 

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there is a calm stillness that has settled over your household as your parents had long gone off to bed, but quiet sniffles break the silence as you furiously rubbed at your misty eyes, an aura of misery shrouding your frame as you gave yourself a once over in your bathroom mirror. you were moments away from turning 18 yet you looked a mess. 

you’d thought you were handling your breakup rather well, but unfortunately the late night spiralling thoughts intertwined with feelings of both anger and hurt eventually brought you to tears. a gentle knock at the door notified you of someone's presence, and you were soon met with a familiar face. 

concern adorned bakugou's expression, his brows furrowing as his chest tightened with a quiet rage. "happy birthday, dumbass." the soft tone of his voice betraying his intentionally agitating words, leaving them devoid of any hints of playful malice. heavy arms envelop you in a comforting embrace, and the dam you'd just managed to clumsily build in your eyes breaks in an instant, and tears began flowing once more. “i don’t know why i’m crying.” you admit with a huff, shaking your head in annoyance. 

if he wasn't so preoccupied with being here with you right now, bakugou's almost certain he'd be heading towards that asshole's house, prepared to give the beat down of a lifetime. "he's a fucking asshole. i'll kill him." the blonde sneers mostly to himself, earning a breathy chuckle from you in response. "i'm almost tempted to let you." you respond dryly, looking up at him through wet lashes. 

"let me?" he frowns. "the fuck do i need your permission for?" red eyes squinting at you with a grumble, releasing you from his hold. you roll your eyes in response, wiping your wet eyes with the sleeves of your hoodie. “okay, i’m done.” you announce, straightening your posture. “i’m not wasting anymore tears on that asshole, good fucking riddance!”. katsuki grins proudly, your resolve is admirable. he never understood what you saw in that loser anyway, you were way out of his league.  

“thats my girl.” the blond pats your head roughly, making his way out of your bathroom with you in tow. “do you wanna, uh.. watch one of your stupid chick flicks or something?” his hand rubs at his neck, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other and you laugh. 

“you can just say you enjoyed mean girls the other day ‘tsuki.” mischievous glint in your eyes as you look up at him with a teasing grin, and the sight of you finally smiling again was all he’d ever wanted. 

“i fucking didn’t!” 

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“hey yn, what are you thinking of doing for your birthday?” the pink haired girl asks curiously, immediately catching the attention of the other girl sitting besides you. “yeah! twenty one is a milestone, we should do something super fun!” ochako chimes in agreement, plopping her pen down onto her notebook. “how about a girls night out?” she suggests.

“ah, i’m not sure yet guys.” you laugh with a shrug. you had never really done anything big for your birthday before honestly, you were happy to just spend time with the people you cared about. no one asides from your parents were aware of your little yearly ritual with a certain hothead, and you’d gotten so used to spending the first few hours of every birthday with him that you never even thought about it–it had become second nature to the both of you. your friends chatter animatedly as they discuss potential party plans, unbeknownst to your wandering thoughts. 

things were slightly different this year, you’d met both mina and ochako at the start of the year and the three of you quickly became an inseparable trio. you wondered if bakugou would be willing to attend any of the ridiculous plans the two girls were discussing.

 “i don’t know guys, clubbing isn’t really my scene.” you chuckle, imagining loud booming techno music and a sea of sweaty bodies. “well, we could always just throw a house party instead? that way there wouldn’t be a bunch of strangers and we have complete control over the music!” mina, the infamous party girl suggests as she clasps her hands together eagerly.

“it’s only if you’re down though, obviously.” she adds.

“yeah, definitely! we’re happy to do whatever it is you want, it’s your day!” ochako reassures with a warm smile, putting down her pen on the journal she was just doodling in. you’d never really thrown a party before, but there was a first time for everything, no? 

“okay. but you guys really have to help me, i have no idea what to do.” you give in, excitement growing at the possible new experience. “yes!” “of course!” the two girls cheer, immediately chattering up a storm about the millions of potential plans. 

it had been just over two weeks now since you’d established your birthday party plans with your girlfriends, and surprisingly, quite a lot had been organised since. your parents agreed to go out with mitsuki and masaru and for the night, having their own little old people party before spending the night at their place. 

you’d promised that you would only allow your closest friends to spend the night, and that you wouldn’t let things get too out of hand. katsuki had also put your parents at ease, promising to keep an eye on things and handling it if anything got out of hand. 

and before you knew it, everything had fallen into place. all that was left to do was to actually host the damn thing, which you were admittedly feeling quite nervous about. you’d never really had all that many friends before, real, close friends that is. 

being lumped together with bakugou katsuki for as long as you could remember was both a blessing and curse, and so you’d never really felt the need to venture out on your own socially speaking. you were mostly cordial and friendly with peers at school, but it was thanks to mina and ochako and their vast social circle that you actually begun really talking to new people. 

you would be in for a rude awakening if those same new people didn’t actually consider you a friend the same way you do them, and you’d hate for the girls efforts to go to waste.

“oi, did you come over just to stare at my wall? if so, you’ve got plenty of your own at home.” katsuki breaks you out of your trance, sending a sudden flick to your forehead that leaves behind a stinging sensation. 

“why are you always so damn violent! you’re never going to get a girlfriend this way!” rubbing at your head with a whine, you childishly scribble in the top hand corner of his pristine page of notes as petty revenge. 

“FUCK OFF, NOW I HAVE TO REWRITE EVERYTHING!” there’s a deep exhale from bakugou’s lips and the annoyance fades from his expression, he looks over at you sitting across him at the dinner table. “you’re going to be fine. stop overthinking about your damn party when it hasn’t even happened yet.”

startled that he’d actually managed to pick up on your damp mood, your brows knit together as you feign ignorance, “i’m not overthinking it, i don’t know what you’re talking about.” katsuki raises a brow, so unconvinced that it’s almost laughable but you stubbornly avoid making eye contact.

“it’ll be fine cus i’ll be there.” the sentence falls from his mouth so effortlessly, a guaranteed reassurance that no matter what goes down he’ll be right there with you–as he always has been. sure, he may not understand your worry wart tendencies, but whether katsuki realises it or not, his strong sense of unwavering reliability leaves you with a small smile as you both return to peacefully studying. or, mostly peaceful studying. 

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

“are you sure my ass isn’t hanging out guys?” mina whines exasperatedly, neck craning round to see her back side in the mirror in front of her. “you look hot mina, stop fussing!” ochako chides, shifting her attention away from her phone for a moment. “izuku’s gonna be here soon.” she beams with adoration, liking the text he’d just sent. 

“careful, if you look anymore excited he might mistake you for a lovesick schoolgirl.” the other teases, playfully tugging at ochako’s cheeks. you roll your eyes with a smile, amused by their antics and smooth out the pleats in your skirt, giving yourself a final once over before turning to seek your friend’s approval. 

you’d thought that you looked fine–cute even, but the sudden silence causes a bundle of nerves to begin forming in the pit of your stomach. maybe your eyeliner wasn’t even? or your hair was ugly? or maybe, the outfit you’d bought was actually really hideous and you should just call off the entire thing because no one’s going to want to come anyway and you’d really just be embarrassing yourself?

a sharp squeal pierces through your spiralling, and you see a blur of pink hair before mina is bouncing up and down in front of you clapping her hands together with glee, and you take this means she does approve. ochako has now joined along side you two, minus the squealing, and the three of you huddle around your floor length mirror, for few cute photos together before you’re all eventually shitfaced. 

“we’re so cute! i love you guys! happy birthday yn! LET’S PARTY!” mina gushes, barely allowing herself to catch her breath in between sentences as she pulls the both of you in for a group hug. “you,” she suddenly juts her finger at your chest “little miss birthday girl, you have to let loose and have fun tonight. no responsibilities, capiche?”

“you do realise her actual birthday is tomorrow right?” uraraka giggles, and you hear someone knock thrice before a green mop of hair pokes his head in, izuku offers a small wave before informing you of the crowd that is now gathering downstairs. 

it was hard to believe that this was actually your house, with the walls all dressed up with balloons and various cute party decor littering almost every surface. the strobing lights and thumping music perfectly emulated the vibe of a club, and with how busy it was starting to get you almost couldn’t tell the difference. you have got to get a thank you gift for the girls after this.

“what’re you staring off into space for ya dunce.” the ever so recognisable gruff voice comes from behind, the sudden proximity sending a chill down your spine. spinning on your feet, you’re met with katsuki’s stoic expression, and you allow yourself a mere moment to glance over his appearance for the occasion. 

a loose white button-up drapes over his large frame, with a few top buttons popped open just enough that his toned pecs daringly peek through. it’s paired with one of his nicer black leather jackets, you’d never admit it to his face but it was always one of your favourites. it was practically made for him. he’d also opted for simple pair of darker blue jeans, not too formal but nice enough that you can tell he put a bit more thought into his outfit, rather than his usual t-shirt and sweats. 

“take a picture loser, it’ll last longer.” your cheeks flush, and you tear your eyes away from him immediately, now having a staring contest with the brown hardwood floors instead. 

“shut up. i’m just so used to you looking like a bum i was caught by surprise.” embarrassed that you were caught ogling your own best friend you grumble out a snarky response, praying that he lets this go on account of it being your (almost) birthday. 

“so you admit it.”

“what?”

“you think i look nice.” he’s smirking, cocking a brow and feeling so damn smug you could practically taste it and you refuse to stroke his inflated ego any further. opting to cross your arms and huff, akin to a petulant child as you grind your teeth with a scowl. you can’t lie to him and disagree, but you’d rather die than give in and admit that he’s right. 

“you look pretty.” katsuki’s tone is completely different, lacking any pompousness, and if you looked closely enough you would notice that the tips of his ears now burn a bright shade of red that rival his eyes. for the second time that night he’s caught you off guard completely. before you can stammer out a response, a loud red head stumbles into the room and throws a heavy arm around the both of you. 

“happy birthday yn! this is some bash!” eijiro beams, tugging the two of you in for a three way hug before katsuki can wrestle him off. “woah, bro! you look so manly!” it was clear he’d had a few drinks before this encounter, and you chuckle at the obvious irritation painted across bakugo’s face.

you internally thank kirishima for interrupting the strange tension that had unknowingly begun to creep up on you and bakugo, and with an exhale of relief you’re filled with giddiness to match kiri’s tipsy state. 

“will you do shots with me eijiro?” he’s still got his arm slung over you, not that you’re complaining of course, comfortable enough in your relationship with him to know that there’s nothing between you two but platonic affection. 

“anything for my birthday girl!” the red head cheers, leading you to the kitchen with bakugou trailing behind begrudgingly. katsuki knows better than to get jealous over kirishima, hell, other than you he probably considers him his closest friend. but that doesn’t ease the tight burning sensation that he feels in his chest upon hearing eijiro’s words. who’s birthday girl?

hours had gone by and at this point you were now teetering dangerously on the line of tipsy, and just flat out drunk. kiri and mina were currently having a dance off in the middle of the dance floor, with a crowd hollering so loud you would be worried about a noise complaint if you weren’t so out of it yourself. 

you were cheering and laughing uncontrollably, most of the control over your senses had disappeared with the last straight vodka shot you’d downed at your friend’s behest. it was your birthday! you needed to let loose so what’s a shot or two, or three? to be quite frank you had stopped keeping track of your drinks after the consecutive beer pong losses. 

partying this hard was fairly uncommon for you, only feeling safe enough to let your guard down due to the fact that you were in the comfort of your own home, and thankfully katsuki had been glued to your side all night (to no one’s surprise). he had even shouldered some (most) of the penalties from the games as a result of your piss poor aim. 

“hey, idiot. you need to drink more water, come with me.” katsuki appeared to be almost stone cold sober, but even he was not immune to copious amounts of alcohol coursing through his system. for some strange reason he had been feeling more.. irritable? for lack of better of word.

all night, any potentially wandering hands or even mere glances in your direction that lasted just a bit too long for his liking had been peeving him for the past hour or so. kaminari had even teasingly called him a guard dog a little earlier much to his misfortune, earning the guy some very colourful language and a punch to the gut. 

you let out a whine, but compliantly allow him to lead you off the makeshift dance floor without further protest. his hand swallowed yours, enveloping your entire palm with zero difficulty which left you wondering just when he’d gotten so much larger than you. his sheer height and size caused the sea of people to simply peel apart, allowing the two of you an easy exit route. 

lost in your thoughts, you’re brought back to reality when you’ve plopped down onto something soft, the familiarity of the walls makes you realise he’d brought you upstairs to your room. bakugou knew the layout of your home like the back of his hand, a privilege borne from the countless days of his childhood spent within these very walls, with you attached to his hip. 

“drink.” the blonde commands, and you oblige, the cool water flowing down your throat offers your body some reprise from the hard liquor, and you’re left feeling surprisingly refreshed. once he was content with how much you drank, bakugou took the glass from your hands and placed it on your nightstand, besides the picture frame of the two of you as kids, sporting toothy grins and peace signs. 

there’s quiet shuffling as he settles down besides your bed on the carpeted floors, a comfortable silence falling over the two young adults to the soundtrack of a far away thumping. you hum absentmindedly, glancing over at your clock that read 11:59pm and then down at katsuki who was already looking up at you. 

he rarely got to see you like this nowadays, the height disparity between the two of you growing so vast over time that he almost exclusively looks down at you now. but as of this moment, a small part of him wishes that he hadn’t grown so tall, if only for the chance to look up at you the way he was currently. 

the moonlight shone through your thinly veiled blinds, he knew from a young age that you were always her favourite, he knew from the moment he saw how she cupped your face in her rays ever so delicately, shining over your soft features and painting you in such a romantic light it was practically unfair. katsuki bakugou had come to the realisation that he had never once stood a chance. 

“happy birthday, dumbass.” his usual commanding tone was soft, demure almost, as if he were trying to coax a small animal out of hiding. there was no one else but the two of you here in your bedroom right now, same as it had always been for all your lives, but this time, something else was there.

it was the poorly concealed tension that you both so carefully avoided, stuck in a constant loop of dancing around a topic that neither dared to breath a word of, in fear of speaking it into existence. your mind suddenly felt as clear as it had ever been, and you were consumed with a need to lean into him, just as you’ve always done, except this time around you fear that simply laying your head on his broad shoulders won’t be enough. 

bakugou clears his throat, breaking his trance as he digs around in the pocket of his pants. “it’s for you. or whatever.” he mumbles, offering his enclosed fist up to you whilst vehemently avoiding eye contact. he had never shown that much interest in your walls before and you had half a mind to repeat the sarcastic phrase he’d offered you just a few days prior.

you stick out your palm inquisitively, and a second later there’s a dainty silver chain resting in the previously unoccupied space. a soft gasp falls from your lips as you carefully pick up the necklace, thumbing over the small heart pendant. 

“‘tsuki, it’s, it’s so pretty.” you smile fondly, eyes flickering over to katsuki who is feeling uncharacteristically shy, despite telling himself it was just a stupid birthday present. it was normal for someone to give gifts for a birthday, so why did this feel so stupidly intimate?

“thought it’d look good on you. i dunno. i don’t know that stupid girly stuff so, if you want to exchange it for something else you can, i don’t care, i just-”

“since it’s my birthday now, can i ask for my birthday wish?” 

“hah? don’t you always say you can’t tell me cus it won’t come true or some shit? plus there’s not even a candle to blow out so it doesn’t even make any sense.” you interrupt his incessant rambling by sliding down off your bed, clumsily settling besides him on the plush floor and gazing up at him with an unfamiliar glint in your eyes.

regrets and worries be damned, this tension had already begun to swallow you whole and with just enough liquid courage, you feel as if you could possibly take charge of it for once. your judgement may be clouded but your desire was not, you knew exactly what you wanted as of this moment, clear as the current night sky. 

“can you kiss me?” 

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

a sweet caramel scent drifts around your kitchen, your favourite candle that you’d burnt earlier had already blanketed the apartment with a fragrant haze that’s begun blending in with the aromatics coming from the sizzling pan. 

a long forgotten movie is playing in the background, providing white noise as you lean your head into your palms resting atop the kitchen island. the sizzling and crackling groans of the pan had almost put you intro a trance, as you admired the tall blonde figure seamlessly handling the kitchenware with expertise.

“ah.” a pair of chopsticks deposit a juicy and succulent slice of wagyu into your eagerly awaiting mouth, the perfectly prepared meat melting between your chewing as you writhe in your seat with joy. 

“mm, that’s so good ‘tsuki! can i have another piece?” you open your mouth expectantly, eyes twinkling as you savour the taste left over on your tongue. the male doesn’t oblige however, instead bringing down two plates from the cupboard above. 

“no, idiot. i’m done now anyway, just let me finish plating it and go sit at the dinner table. your staring is creepy.” your face scrunches at his denial, yet you slide off the stool and settle down at meticulously set dinner table. 

a freshly purchased bouquet of your favourite flowers acts as the centrepiece, accompanied by a few lit candles and two carefully folded napkins besides matching silverware. your heart swells with joy as you take in all the minute details that were all so thoughtfully prepared, before katsuki sets down both plates of food.

he finally joins you over at the table, placing a chaste kiss to the top of your head before sitting down as well. it was definitely a late dinner, your eyes flickering over to the living room clock now reading 11:59pm while he cuts your food into bite sizes.

you absentmindedly twirl the dainty heart chain on your necklace, before katsuki draws your attention by gently cupping your cheek with his hand and softly stroking with his thumb, as if you were a doll made of porcelain. you never fail to take his breath away, he thinks to himself. 

“happy birthday, dumbass. i love you.” he grins adoringly, reduced to nothing but a love struck man who will forever be captivated by just how beautifully you reflect the moon’s light.

# mew’s comments :

FIRST POST BACK LET'S GOOO!!!

i drafted this TWO (2) whole years ago on a lonely night before my birthday, as self-indulgence and actually finishing it now healed something in me :')

[stevethehairington]

i love you prompts: 98 w/ romantic steddie? 😌

lou!! thank you for sending this in!! ooh this is a good one!!

98. "Take a deep breath"

It’s late when the credits finally start to roll onscreen.

Steve guesses it’s sometime close to midnight, or maybe a little after, but he’d taken his watch off earlier before he’d gotten elbow deep in dirty dish water, cleaning up after the mess they somehow managed to make whipping up a simple dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup. It sits on the kitchen counter, all the way across the room, and the nearest clock in the Munson trailer hangs beside the phone, too far away for Steve to see from his spot on the couch.

He can’t exactly twist in his place to try and catch a better glimpse of it, or get up to fetch his watch either. Not while Eddie leans up against his side, arms crossed over his chest and neck bent awkwardly so his head can rest against Steve’s shoulder, fast asleep.

When they first put the movie on, the two of them had started off on opposite ends of the already pretty small couch, but as it progressed, they’d gradually shifted closer and closer — in the name of sharing popcorn easier, to whisper their movie commentary directly into each other’s ears rather than speak over the film, and, eventually, so it seems, so that Eddie could use Steve as a pillow. 

Not that Steve minded or anything. He liked it, in fact — likes it. Likes having Eddie so close, likes feeling the warmth of his body pressing up against his own, likes the fact that Eddie is comfortable enough with him to let his guard down like this.

Eddie hasn’t been sleeping all that well as of late, so when his head tipped onto Steve’s shoulder a little over half an hour ago, Steve just slouched a little lower to ease the angle of his neck and reached for the remote to turn down the volume. It had been a little hard for him to hear it after that, but he hadn’t really paid it much attention after that point anyways.

Now, though, the movie is over, and it’s late enough that Steve’s verging on overstaying his welcome. He knows he should probably wake Eddie so he can let him know that he’s going and say his goodbyes and head out.

But Eddie just looks way too peaceful. Steve doesn’t want to wake him.

Instead, he decides that he can just leave a note. In case Eddie does wake up to find him gone. He’ll know nothing bad happened to Steve, just that he went home for the night and that they’ll see each other tomorrow — because chances are they will. They hardly went a day without spinning into each other’s orbits now.

Except, Steve doesn’t want to just leave Eddie on the couch either. He knows from personal experience that the Munson’s sofa is not exactly the most comfortable thing ever. Every time he falls asleep on it, he wakes up with a crick in his neck and an ache in his back. He doesn’t want that for Eddie.

His bedroom isn’t far, just down the hall, and Steve will feel a lot better if he gets Eddie to his bed before he leaves. So, he does his best to maneuver out from beneath Eddie, cradling his head as he removes it from his shoulder and lowers it to the cushion instead.

Steve takes a second to roll out his shoulders, then he slips one arm under Eddie’s back and the other behind his knees, which are curled to his side. As carefully as he can, he lifts Eddie from the couch.

Eddie stirs, but he doesn’t wake, thank god. He just smacks his mouth a little and buries his nose into the collar of Steve’s sweater, and Steve lets out the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

Eddie’s lighter than he looks, but still pretty heavy, and Steve doesn’t want to drop him, so he takes it slow as he follows the path towards Eddie’s door at the end of the hall. It’s, thankfully, already open, so all he has to do is kick out a foot to push it wide enough to fit through.

The blinds in Eddie’s room are still fucked up — broken enough that the slats droop down in a way that gives the morning sun the perfect opening to shine right in and wake him up before it’s time. Eddie complains about it constantly, but he hasn’t made any sort of attempt to fix them yet, and right now, Steveis grateful for that. The glow of the moon is bright enough to seep in through the gap, providing just enough gentle light that Steve can see where he’s going.

He makes it to the side of Eddie’s bed without issue, and delicately deposits Eddie onto his mattress. Again, Eddie shifts, rolling slightly onto his side, but he still doesn’t rouse.

The blankets are shoved to the end of Eddie’s bed, and Steve stifles a snort at that as he reaches for them and starts to pull them up and over Eddie’s body. He knows Eddie runs cold, so he takes a moment to tuck the corners in and add an extra blanket to the top so that he’s nice and cozy.

Then, unable to help himself, Steve brushes Eddie’s bangs to the side and leans down to leave a soft ghost of a kiss to his forehead.

He’s just starting to straighten up and pull his hand back when quick fingers dart out to curl around his wrist, trapping him there.

Steve freezes, eyes snapping back open to find Eddie, awake, blinking hazily back up at him.

“Steve?” Eddie asks, groggy, still somewhere halfway in between awake and asleep.

“Hey, yeah, it’s me,” Steve whispers. “You fell asleep, I just brought you to your room so you’d be comfortable,” he tells him.

Eddie smiles then, this sleepy, goopy sort of thing that makes something warm settle in Steve’s chest, and he tugs on Steve’s wrist. “C’mere,” he mumbles, and Steve thinks maybe he has something he wants to tell him.

So he leans in closer.

And closer.

And closer.

Eddie tips his chin up, and Steve thinks he’s going for his ear, so he can whisper his sleepsoft secret. Only, his mouth doesn’t go anywhere near Steve’s ear. Instead, it lands against his own in a—

In a kiss.

It’s chaste, tender, just the sweet press of lips against lips. It catches Steve off guard at first, but the surprise settles, and Steve is about to let himself melt into it.

Then the moment shatters.

Eddie jerks back, bolting upright as he scrambles far enough back in his bed that he hits the headboard. His eyes are wide open now, fully alert and not a single trace of sleepiness anywhere on his face as he stares at Steve. His hand, the one he’d had around Steve’s wrist just seconds ago, hovers over his own mouth, like he can’t quite believe what it has just done.

“Oh, oh, fuck,” Eddie chokes out. “Shit, shit, shit, I’m so— I didn’t mean to— fuck, you have to— please don’t—”

“Woah, hey, it’s… it’s alright, Eddie,” Steve says, holding his hands out in what he hopes is a placating gesture. He doesn’t come closer, doesn’t want to frighten Eddie further, but he wants Eddie to know that there’s no reason for him to be so scared. He’s not… he’s not mad. Or upset. Or anything that Eddie probably thinks he is right now. Not even close.

Eddie’s words start to fail him as his breathing begins to hitch, and Steve can see the rapidfire rise and fall of his chest. His eyes are on Steve, but he’s not looking at him. He’s looking through him, like he’s somewhere else right now. Like he’s spiraling into every single bad place his mind can take him right now.

Steve recognizes it for what it is — a panic attack.

“Eddie,” Steve tries, forgetting politeness as he moves to the edge of Eddie’s bed and kneels against the mattress. He reaches out to rest his hand on Eddie’s shoulder — to give him a point of contact, something to focus on. Something to ground him. It’s what usually helps Steve whenever he’s having a panic attack, finding an anchor, to bring him back down.

Eddie’s hand flies out to grasp at Steve’s wrist, and Steve lets him pull it from his shoulder so that he can curl his fingers around Steve’s palm instead. His grip is tight, nails biting into Steve’s skin, but Steve doesn’t care.

“You’re safe,” Steve reassures. “You’re safe and I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie nods, but Steve isn’t so sure his words have reached him. Not when he still looks so panicked, and his breathing is still coming out too fast.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand. “Take a deep breath,” he instructs.

Eddie’s eyes settle onto Steve’s face, still hazy but doing better at focusing. Steve smiles at him, nods encouragingly. “Come on, do it with me, deep breath in.”

Steve makes a show of inhaling again, holding up his fingers to count to three before he starts to let it all back out in an exhale. He goes through it twice before Eddie catches on and starts to mirror him.

They follow the pattern until finally Eddie’s breathing returns to normal and the panic seems to subside.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, once Eddie’s shoulders slump and his head drops forward, his hair hanging like a curtain around his face. Steve hasn’t let go of Eddie’s hand yet, and he doesn’t plan to.

Eddie lets out a humorless laugh, but he doesn’t look up. “Depends,” he starts. “Are you going to… to fucking… hit me or shout at me or something?”

Steve’s face screws up, mouth tugging down into a hard frown. “What?” He asks. “Why would I do that? Because you had a panic attack?”

Eddie snorts. “No,” he replies, like he can’t believe that’s what Steve thinks this is about. He stays quiet for a second, two, three. Like he can’t quite bring himself to say it. “Because I— because I kissed you,” he finally breathes.

“Oh,” Steve says softly. He watches Eddie for a moment, doesn’t like that he can’t see his face. He wants to see his face. So, with careful fingers, he reaches out to brush Eddie’s hair back, to tuck it behind his ear.

Eddie’s breath catches as he does, and his gaze flickers up to Steve’s, briefly, before fixing firmly on his lap again.

“Eddie,” Steve starts, “I’m not mad that you kissed me.”

It takes a second for his words to sink in.

When they do, Eddie’s head snaps up. His eyes land on Steve’s, wide and surprised and searching. “You’re not?”

Steve shakes his head. Lets a little smile grace his lips. “Nope,” he confirms. “Not one single bit.”

And, well, in for a penny, in for a pound, right? He shuffles a little closer on his knees, presses further into Eddie’s space. “In fact…” he trails off. Does a little searching of his own. “I wouldn’t mind if you did it again,” Steve finishes after he’s sure that Eddie isn’t going to push him away.

Eddie’s eyebrows lift this time, the pull together. Steve wants to smooth out the little wrinkle that forms between them. 

“Are you… you’re serious?” Eddie asks.

“Serious as a heart attack,” Steve replies.

The corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches, then a smile breaks out across his face. “Holy shit, you’re serious,” he says, followed by a breathless little laugh.

Steve can’t help but laugh too, and he nods and starts to tug at Eddie’s hand to pull him in this time. “Yeah,” he says. “Now that that’s been established, you think I could get another one?”

Eddie looks at him like he’s won the lottery. “Jesus christ, yes, yes please,” he says, and the hand not caught in Steve’s comes up to bunch into the front of his sweater as he meets him halfway.

It’s a little offcentered, a little overeager on both of their parts, but it’s perfect.

When they break apart, Eddie presses his forehead against Steve’s. “Were you leaving?” He asks.

“I was,” Steve answers. “I don’t want to now,” he admits.

Eddie chuckles and lets go of Steve only just long enough to peel back the covers Steve had so lovingly tucked around him not too long ago.

“So stay,” Eddie says.

With his welcome so graciously extended like that, who is Steve to say no?

So he stays.

100 ways to say i love you prompts

[starry-blue-echoes]

A small idea: AU where Gravity works against Pucci, and Rikiel is taken into the Joestar fold at some point, anywhere from before Stone Ocean starts to in its endgame. The rod boi deserves some love.

yessssssss

okay but what if I take it a step further and somehow, someway all three of the brothers manage to get found by Jotaro and Jolyne as kids. Like, purely through Gravity Bullshit and accidentally meeting them and slowly forging bonds

Ungalo and Jolyne bumped into each other at the movie theatre for a Disney movie and clicked immediately, practically giving the whole movie a hushed commentary and promised to meet later to do this again

during a trip to the hospital when Jolyne got really sick and (Jotaro's actually there this time) she ends up befriending the really anxious kid she shared a room with and decides she wants to be friends with him so her parents exchange information with his mom

Jotaro was nearby when Donatello gets arrested and ends up being called in as a witness to vouch for what he meant by "they fell from the sky." After the trial is over and he learns exactly why Donatello was there and pulls some strings with the SWF to make sure he gets put in a good home

Jotaro probably realises who they are pretty quick, but just because they're Dio's kids doesn't erase the fact they're Joestars. They didn't ask for their father to be who he was, and they're completely innocent

plus, Jolyne would never forgive him if he ever mistreated her favorite cousins

fast forward to 2001 and Giorno learns that not only does he have a very large extended family, but three younger half brothers as well

also I think it would be funny that when Jotaro sends Koichi to Italy, the Brando kids just...... follow him. They used their Stands to pull it off without anyone noticing and the whole time the Bucci Gang is doing their whole thing they're being followed by some barely teenagers (Donatello would be 15 and Rikiel and Ungalo would be 13/14) who are On A Mission

hell, who knows maybe they even get Jolyne (who's 9ish I think) in on it because she's basically their sister and she wants to meet their new older brother!!!

[feral-ferrule]

Charity and Decadence

Chapter 7, Entirely Too Much Manspreading

Word count: 5994

Series masterlist

Pairing(s) Echo x force sensitive earthling f!Reader OC (reader has a nickname) ✨

Bad Batch & Reader ✨ Rex & Reader ✨ Anakin & Reader

Warnings: nothing much in this chapter, but a whole lot of the male gaze, a little angst, tiny bit of suggestive commentary, mentions of slavery and medical procedures. There’s some spicier stuff previously and this is a slow build up to more.

You turned and saw a soldier with a ruggedly handsome and tattooed face. He had long hair held in place with a red bandana or maybe a sweatband. His eyes had been roving over your body but snapped up to your face as you rounded on him. Like Tech, he was still in his armor. He stepped back to let you both step out of the room. The door slid closed behind you as the man held your gaze. He felt sharp and cunning, rustic for lack of a better word, and kind of had a Rambo look going on. You bet he’d love that movie and would probably be a Stalone fan.

“Choy, this is Hunter, our Sargent and squad leader,” Tech said beside you.

“Welcome aboard the Havoc Marauder,” Hunter spoke with smoky timber that matched his energy. Well at least he doesn’t sound like a Stalone character.

You held your hand out, “Thank you, Hunter, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.” His eyes widened and his lusty vibe shifted to something a little more respectful. He took your hand and his energy was suddenly right inside your head. Another clone you realized with a shock. You could see a jumble of his memories and feelings. Feelings and thoughts- you slammed the barriers down right as you saw yourself- and, shit, you were naked. You managed to remember to squeeze back on his hand and let go. You searched his eyes, yes he had tells of a clone. “You and Tech, you are both clones?” You managed to ask, wondering if naked-you was still bouncing around in his mind.

“We are Clone Force 99,” Tech said to your side.

99, the sweet defective clone. This is,

“The Bad Batch,” you said in a hushed voice. You breathed in deep to ground yourself as you were flooded with memories of these guys and more of your life. Dammit not now, you grumbled to yourself. You held up a hand to steady yourself against the bulkhead. Tech intercepted it as you reached out and held it in his.

“Yes we call ourselves the Bad Batch,” Tech said, glancing over at Hunter. “Are you not feeling well?” He steadied your elbow with his other hand.

“I’m ok, It’s just been a long day, although not as hard as yours.” You let your gaze fall to all the abrasions and blaster grazes on Hunter’s armor. Then back up to his face.

Hunter looked like he was going to comment on that, but with a smirk he gestured toward the cockpit. “If you are ok please join us up front, we’d like to have a talk with you.” Tech led you forward. Hunter’s eyes stayed on you, closing as he deeply inhaled when you drew away from him. It raised the hair on the back of your neck and you felt like you were being tracked. A hand on your back brought your attention to Tech who was giving a stern look back at Hunter.

Rex, Anakin and Crosshair were standing off to the side discussing an extremely large long-gun as you approached. They all quieted, their eyes on you, their mouths open in mid sentence as you paused and nodded to them. You heard a low whistle from their direction as Tech offered the navigator’s chair, “My lady.” He was being so sweet. Was he always like this? You wondered if real-Tech was less socially awkward than cartoon-Tech.

You took your seat and surveyed the men before you. Crosshair’s eyebrow cocked as he watched Tech’s interaction with you. In fact, you realized, they were all watching as his hand slid up to your shoulder while you lowered yourself down in the seat.

Anakin turned his back towards you and handed Crosshair the gun. And what sounded like an admonishment of “Woman on deck, men.” Before turning around he adjusted something near his belt and tugged at the collar of his tunic. You felt him calm his energy as he turned back around. You better calm down married-almost-father-of-twins, you thought to yourself. He must have caught on to your judgement and suddenly looked a little guilty.

“Is she glowing?” Rex tilted his head to Anakin, his eyes still roving the space around you.

Anakin winked at you and said, “Choy, this is-“ and you both said “Captain Rex.” They looked a bit surprised.

“How do you know who I am?” Rex had straightened up and regarded you with some caution. All clone, you thought, but brighter energy than most.

“It’s a long story,” you sighed and smiled at him. You looked between them all. “Which I promise to tell you,” you assured him as he scrutinized you.

“You’ve met Hunter,” Anakin said. Hunter approached the others across from you. “This is Crosshair.” Crosshair stepped out from behind the other two and gave you a tight nod. He was as tall as Tech, had his aloof tough guy act going on, but as you focused on him you could feel some deep hurt and a strong heart. And he was trying to hide his burning curiosity behind ennui. The effect of this was a cold leering appraisal as his eyes caressed your form.

“Cross, go wake Wrecker, we’re having a meeting,” Hunter barked. Crosshair tore his eyes off of you and stalked out of the cockpit. You could hear his muffled voice carry from the back of the ship.

Anakin and Rex moved forward claiming the pilot and co-pilot seats. Crosshair reappeared and stood in the space between Anakin and Hunter.

You heard heavier footsteps and a big yawn from down the ship and turned as the biggest of them all approached. “What’s this meeting so important for?” He complained in a gravelly voice rough with sleep. You watched him stretch and scratch his belly, the top of his single piece blacks pulled down and hanging around his waist. As he got closer his eyes blinked in the brighter cabin lights. His scarred face broke into a big grin when he noticed you. “Ohhhh that’s right we have the lady here, hi lady! Oh I’d better get dressed.”

You couldn’t help but feel at ease and happy, despite his sheer size that you were sure would be scary if he were angry. Just like you’d seen him back home, but now so much larger than life. You noticed he was absolutely rippling with muscle and sinewy veins as he pulled the top of his blacks back on. A little bit too defined, you noted with some concern. Not nearly as bad as Echo, just not enough softness between the ribs and muscles. You wondered if they all were like that- on the verge of being underfat. His eyes were so kind and warm, even the cybernetic one. You smiled back, feeling a little dazed and said “Hi, Wrecker, I’m Choy. It is nice to meet you all,” as you looked back over all the men. Hunter sat across from you pulling Wrecker, who had been headed to sit next to you, down next to him.

The various screens and illuminated controls around the space cast everything in a variety of colors. You made quick comparisons to your memories of the mens’ animated and movie versions. They were rougher up close like this. Like the other clones you had met, they felt gritty and solid in the force, honed cold steel soldiers through and through. But if you pushed past that you knew you’d feel the warm humanity at their core. They were letting this through a bit now in your company, their inner fires stoked, their eyes dilated. Hot blooded and thirsty. As they settled in their seats they all adopted similar body language. Relaxed, legs spread wide like they were all making a display of themselves. Tech and Crosshair remained standing, Crosshair’s eyes shifting as he noticed the way Tech put his hand on the top of your seat’s headrest.

You crossed your legs, one knee over the other, not quite resting back into the large chair and set your elbows on the armrests. In your own head your memories were hitting fast and hard now which they liked to do at inconvenient times. A jumble of events and faces was replaying that happened right up to the moments before appearing in this world. You still weren’t entirely sure who everyone was and if they were in chronological order. You felt the men around you staring and snapped back to the current moment. You took a deep breath and centered yourself, calling up the Force for strength and presence of mind. You willed your energy to reach out to all the clones and wrap around them. Warm, comfort, soft, gentle. You knew they craved this, never having really experienced nurturing before. They wouldn’t sense it like a Jedi would but they’d feel something.

To Anakin you were more direct [[There are some things I will be leaving unsaid in front of everyone]] He nodded and you cast your gaze down briefly, collecting your thoughts and decided to make the first move.

“Thank you for risking so much,” you said, looking at Rex and then to Anakin, “and for believing in each other to save Echo.” They looked at eachother with mild surprise. “What they did to him was-“ and you had to stop, close your eyes and swallow the lump in your throat because it was so much worse in reality than portrayed in a cartoon. “And thank you for freeing me,” you touched your neck and looked at Anakin who nodded.

“How is Echo? Were you able to help him?” He asked.

“Yes he’s good, sleeping now.” You glanced up at Tech.

“He will require advanced treatment once we return, but he is stable,” Tech said, “thanks to Choy here.”

Rex looked relieved and leaned forward, “So who are you? How are you familiar with Echo? And how do you know me?” Rex started pummeling you with questions and Anakin shot him a warning look which cut him off. You noticed Hunter lean forward, his elbows on his knees.

“It’s ok Anakin,” you smiled at them both, “I was a captive of the Techno Union. They used me for their biological experiments because I can do things in the force that are unusual, even for Jedi.”

“But you aren’t trained as a Jedi? How did you develop your powers, where are you from? What can you tell us about the Separatists?” Anakin now had a million questions and suspicions running through his mind. Rex shot him a side eye glance that had you suppressing a smile.

You tried to think of the clearest way to explain it all to them, “This is going to be a lot, and I won’t blame you for not believing me.” You rubbed the back of your neck and looked around at them, stopping on Wrecker who looked excited for a good story. “I appeared in this world at a ruined Jedi temple in a Force storm on Dantooine during the time Mace Windu and the 187th were fighting the Separatists there. I never had Force powers until that moment. I had amnesia and I have only recently remembered enough to put the pieces of my old life back together. I think maybe I almost died in my world and the Force brought me here, saved me.” They all looked around at each other as you looked down at your hands in your lap, one thumb rubbing the other hand, tears swarmed in your eyes and plopped onto your thigh. You’d never told anyone that part before.

A warm, gloved hand covered both of yours and gave them a gentle squeeze. Tech was kneeling beside you. “I’m so sorry, you must miss everyone meaningful to you.” Tech said gently. You smiled at his hand and nodded. You felt loss, but also felt the memories slip away as much as they came back. Like your new full connection to the Force was dissolving them again.

You took a deep shuddering breath and wiped your tears on your sleeves, looking back up at Rex, “The troopers gave me the name Choy. It’s short for ech-“

“Echoy’la” Rex said with you. The clones all nodded in understanding.

You looked at Anakin, “Master Windu taught me the Force basics before he had to go into battle and save his troops from the horrible-,” you shuddered at the memory, cleared your throat that threatened to constrict on your words, “I helped triage the clones that day- then the one,” your tone turned bitter, “Slick, he betrayed me. Then the Separatists captured me in the field.”

You looked up and saw Rex’s face go from surprised to set in a grim scowl, “Slick is in the brig now, he did more damage among the 501st after hurting you,” he smoothed his hand over his head’s short blond stubble, “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, Rex.” But I’d have never been able to help Echo otherwise, you thought.

Anakin nodded but narrowed his eyes a little. You looked across to Crosshair chewing his toothpick, still standing, arms crossed, eyes softer with a gentle sympathy. To Hunter who was nodding a bit as he contemplated what you just said. And to Wrecker who’s chin trembled a little as he stared at the floor and then up to you.

“So they had you for a while before the Citadel. When did you meet Echo?” Rex asked.

“Not that long ago, I believe he had been in the tower for some time before I got there. I’ve only been there a couple weeks.”

“Where were you before that?” Anakin asked.

“I was in their labs, on various planets, assigned to the -maintenance of experimental subjects, like Echo.”

“And you really helped clones on Dantooine?” Hunter asked a little doubtfully.

“Yes, is that weird?” You looked around the room.

“Clones are not usually considered worthy of the time and effort of the naturally born.” Tech said beside you.

The matter of fact way he said it was like a punch to the gut. “That I’m aware of, and I’m sorry it’s that way. I feel that clones are just as human and worthy as me or any of my family.” You sighed remembering them as the men all exchanged looks with a new light in their eyes. “You’d all have full human rights where I’m from.”

“And where is that exactly?” Hunter pressed.

“Earth,” you said. They all looked around at each other. “It is not in this galaxy so-“ Anakin rolled his eyes.

“Look if you don’t want to tell us where you are from that’s one thing but don’t start in with any silly lies,” he said

“Silly lies? I don’t understand,” you looked from Anakin to the other men not expecting that reaction.

“Telling us you’re from Earth, that lie.” Anakin pressed.

“Why do you think I’m lying? Have you heard of Earth?”

“I’m sure you are both referring to the popular human origin myth of the planet Earth.” Tech spoke up next to you, “It’s featured in numerous holovids, writings and in the oral culture of more primitive human populations-“

“A fairy tale,” Crosshair drawled, shifting his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. You realized your mouth was hanging open as you tried to think of a way to explain and snapped it shut.

Tech taped away at his data pad. “Now it’s quite possible Choy is from one of the many colonies that have named themselves after the mythical Earth. There have been several. Choy, do you recognize any of these worlds?” He handed you his data pad with a map of the Galaxy on it. There were several systems pinpointed with the name “Earth” next to them.

You were too tired for this. And were beginning to grow impatient with this inquisition you were stuck in. Trying to plead your case of where you really came from would probably be futile. You pinched your forehead to stave off the headache you were feeling set in. You needed to eat.

“No, Tech. I’m certain it’s none of those.”

Out of the corner of your eye. Anakin and Hunter exchanged a look. “I really don’t blame you for not believing me,” you said to them. You really meant that, figuring they could probably tell you were holding back.

“Well I believe you, Choy,” Wrecker boomed from next to Hunter, shooting him a glare. “But you’ll need a new name now, ‘cause you found us,” he looked over at Hunter again, “ Can we keep her?” At that Crosshair gave them a sidelong look.

“So to sum up,” Tech continued, “you are most likely from a back-to-the-Earth colony, they are isolationist primitivists and several have been lost to the rest of the Galaxy, probably in Wild Space or the Unknown Regions. Then, because of some quirk in the Force you were brought to Dantooine at the site of one of the ancient Force Gates, most likely.” Tech pushed his goggles up his nose. “Highly improbable but not impossible. Anakin may be a better one to ask.”

Everyone looked at Anakin who was sitting forward, like Hunter now, elbows on knees with a contemplative look. He straightened up and put his hand on his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll have to ask the Jedi council about all this.” He looked at you, his face showing confusion, “I’m sorry, Choy, I didn’t realize you could be from an actual place called Earth. Please accept my apologies.”

You sighed, and very slightly shook your head “Of course, Anakin, this is all very confusing for me, too.” You decided to drop the subject and looked down at the data pad again, wondering how Earth fit into this reality.

“Choy, thank you for caring for Echo. I thought I’d never see him again and if it wasn’t for you it sounds like I never would have.” Rex had got up from his seat and was kneeling in front of you. He took the data pad and handed it to Tech without taking his eyes off yours. You felt spellbound in his warm gaze. He took your hands from your lap and held them in his. “Vor entye, meshla.” He brought your hands up and touched his forehead to them. You swooned a little, your heart racing. The rest of the clones started shifting in their seats, you got the idea that this was a somewhat intimate gesture to them. They didn’t look too happy about it and Hunter seemed tense. Tech bristled beside you but hid it by tapping away at his data pad, although a little too forcefully. Rex squeezed your hands and released them to your lap. He stood to your side and turned to Anakin.

Anakin picked up on the vibe and cleared his throat, “Gentlemen,” he began with a bit of warning in his tone, “when we get back to Anaxes we’ll rendezvous with General Windu and Kenobi. Rex and I will debrief and we will all have to prepare for the next steps in the battle to win the shipyards back. Choy, what are your unusual abilities? We may need all the help we can get.”

You were elated to hear that Master Windu and his troopers would be there. It gave you even more of a sense of things going right finally. “I don’t know how helpful I’d be in a battle,” you put a finger to your chin and looked around the room as you considered what abilities you’d managed to hone despite the force collar’s oppression. “I can kind of feel into and manipulate matter down to the tiniest structures, even to the molecules. My main job with the Techno Union was to tinker with the biohardware interface of prosthetic implants, remove scar tissue and heal surgical sites. I was like their never ending supply of bacta. Master Windu also said that I showed signs of other things, that I was extremely force sensitive probably because it was new for me and I didn’t learn to block it out as a young child. He said I am very force empathic, which is the force's way of balancing someone who can be super deadly with it.” You paused and considered who you were talking to. Anakin probably didn’t have strong force empathy. Which must explain how easily he can kill, how easily the dark side took him.

“You can kill someone just by thinking about it?” Crosshair’s question sounded sincere.

“Not exactly, the force empathy I just mentioned makes that very difficult for me, but the Separatists did try to use me that way. Count Dooku was supposed to take custody of me to develop my force skills in that direction. The only reason I wasn’t sent to him was the Techno Union’s claim on me. After they…used up Echo I was to be contracted out to him. He’d check on me every so often, or send his minions, creepy sith types. Keep me in the fold.” You looked hard at Anakin, “I can tell you a thing or two about the Sith, but I don’t think you’d like it too much.” Anakin raised an eyebrow. “It’s actually easier for me to manipulate matter in a healing way or when it isn’t part of a being with a will to live. I can heal easier than harm- if I really concentrate I can even compress gasses and release them to create an explosion but not like inside a person, does that make sense? There’s probably more I can do but just don’t know yet. Another thing- I can generate heat and activate a person’s energy stores to help nourish them if they can’t eat. I think this has to do with the glowing.” You gestured in a circle around yourself.

Wrecker looked love-struck. “Explosions? Now you're speaking my language! Wait- is that how you helped Echo in there? You force-fed him? Hahahaha!” Wrecker laughed at his terrible pun.

“Something like that,” you couldn’t help but chuckle and felt a flush of heat creep up your neck. They were all eyeing you curiously. You looked to Tech.

“I imagine you are tired and hungry, let me help you get settled for the remainder of our journey,” Tech rescued you. He stood and held his hand for you to take which you did. You stood and he gave you a smile. The rest of the men stood as well.

“Choy, when we meet with the other Jedi I’m sure we’d all be interested in what you know about the Sith,” Anakin said. You noticed he’d closed himself off in the force more now that he knew you might be reading his every emotion or even thought.

“Of course,”

“Get some rest for now. That goes for everyone, who’s got first watch?”

As they figured out the watch rotation Tech led you to some storage panels near the middle of the ship. Behind you Crosshair said to Hunter, “I think he’s touched her more since she came to us than he’s touched anyone else combined in his entire life.” You also heard Rex say “She never really told us how she seems familiar with us.”

You felt the massive warmth of Wrecker behind you as Tech rummaged for rations in a compartment.

“Here, Choy.” Wrecker said to you confidentially. He pressed on a panel higher up than even Tech could reach and grabbed a packet out of a box shoved in the space inside. “These are the best ones.”

“That’s where those went?” Tech exclaimed with annoyance, “You hid them for yourself you greedy Blurgg!”

“No, Choy gets to have them, too.” Wrecker sassed back and pressed the panel shut. “Here you go, meshla,” he winked at you and handed you the packet.

You looked apologetically to Tech and back to Wrecker, “thank you, big guy,” you winked at him and patted his arm. Wrecker stood taller and beamed.

“Take these as well,” Tech handed you another packet and a bottle of opaque blue liquid.

“Why does she get the cookies and blue milk, Tech, you like her or something?” He elbowed Tech who seemed to be braced for it. You were sure it would have sent you flying.

“Choy has endured much for a civilian,” Tech straightened his goggles, “and her system has been taxed beyond what we can imagine.” He glanced down at your chest. His lips pressed together and he swallowed. “She deserves a feast if you ask me,” he said, still looking below your face, desire and curiosity radiating off of him.

Oh he wants some. He wants a taste of me, you realized.

“You all deserve one, too, for being so brave and strong and good,” you blinked up at Wrecker. “And smart,” you added looking at Tech. You watched them positively inflate at your praise. Clones were delightful putty about that, a feature you found especially endearing. And handy.

Tech was pulling at his collar and Wrecker blushing and kicking his foot when you felt a presence slide behind you and a hand on your lower back. You turned to see Crosshair behind you glaring at his brothers. He hovered over you and asked, “What’s come over you two?” He glanced at your armful of rations. His eyebrows raised a little and he smirked, “Tribute for the queen,” he mused, “you going to make her stand here to eat like a fathier?” he jibed at his brothers. “Come sit on the bunk here, meshla,” his hand at your back pressed you toward a neatly made bunk bed. You left the other two clones to bicker about who let Crosshair steal you away like that.

You sat down and he appraised you with a slight smile. “Mind if I join you?”

“No, not at all,” you patted the spot next to you.

He sat a little further from you than where you patted and pulled out a ration bar of his own from a pocket somewhere. You bit into the ration Wrecker gave you. It was the best one you’d ever tasted, almost like chocolate. Crosshair quietly munched on his, staring at the bunks on the other side of the space. It was a comfortable silence, but you felt that he was on the verge of saying something.

Eventually he side eyed you, “Hunter seems to think you are hiding something.”

You sighed, chewing, and thought about how to respond as he turned slightly to look at you with both eyes. “There’s just some things I’d rather wait to bring up with… a woman.” Now that really was true, you weren’t about to tell more of them about your little milk situation.

His eyebrow shot up and his eyes snapped forward again. You smiled a little at his embarrassment. But his expression turned from surprise to something darker.

“Are you ok? The Separatists, they didn’t?” He tried to ask.

“Oh I’m ok, Crosshair, thank you, no they, they didn’t. Nothing like that,” you soothed, and the cold fire left his face. He went back to eating and casting little glances your way. You opened up to him a little, he seemed like how you’d imagine him, but you hadn’t expected a protectiveness from him towards you, or this much courtesy. He definitely felt like the coiled snake ready to strike but he also felt like he wanted to coil around you, squeeze you and strike anything that came near.

You finished the ration and fiddled with the container of blue milk. He put his hand on yours to stop your struggle and took it from you, twisting the cap in a special way that wasn’t obvious and handed it back to you. “Thank you,” you said and were pretty sure you saw a flash of warmth on his face. You took a sip expecting it to be overly sweet like a kid drink but it wasn’t. Not bad you thought, and tried to remember what animal it was from. “Crosshair, where does blue milk come from, like what kind of creature?”

He looked surprised for a second, “Banthas. You don’t get blue milk where you’re from?”

You munched on the cookies, taking care to not drop crumbs on the bed. “Nope. All the milk where I’m from is white.”

Tech, Wrecker and Hunter appeared around the bulkhead. All three of them stopped short and stared at you and Crosshair sitting together on his bunk. Tech had your duffel which you had completely forgotten about and set it down next to the bunk across the way. Crosshair glared at them and shifted toward you a tiny fraction. Hunter noticed this and said, “just checking where our passenger and sniper got off to.” You did not miss the suggestiveness in his tone. Crosshair was about to snipe some words back at him.

“How’s the ration? Good, ya?” asked Wrecker.

“Delicious, everything was, thank you so much, I didn’t realize how hungry I’d been. And Crosshair has been pleasant company, a real gentleman.” You leveled a look at Hunter who crossed his arms with a smirk.

“If you’d like to retire, I have watch duty now and you may use my bunk,” Tech said pointing to the particularly cluttered bunk he’d set your bag near. You were about to ask what it all was when Wrecker added, “You’ve got too much junk on there, Tech, it’ll poke Choy.” The other clones tried not looking at you after he said that. “She can sleep in mine,” he continued.

All three of the rest of them protested that. “No, we’d never do that to the lady, Wrecker. When was the last time you washed your sheets?” Tech asked. Wrecker scratched the back of his neck, thinking.

“You idiots, she’s fine right here,” Crosshair motioned behind you to his own bunk. Hunter raised an eyebrow as Crosshair rested his hand behind you and stared daggers at them.

Wrecker yawned and said, “Aye alright I’m hitting the sack.” He flopped down on his bunk and grabbed his Lula doll and was asleep almost instantly.

Tech excused himself to the cockpit leaving Hunter. You studied him and expected the same suspicion he exhibited in the cockpit, but his eyes had softened and warmed to you. You remembered his heightened senses and suspected he must have heard what you said to Crosshair. And he could probably smell your leaking milk since you boarded. That was a little embarrassing.

“Hey, thank you all for accommodating me into your home.” Crosshair almost smiled at you and Hunter uncrossed his arms. He came over and kneeled down in front of you. “Did you really mean what you said about clones?”

“Absolutely,” you stared into his eyes and then up at Crosshair’s. “You are worthy,” then you felt a little corny and over the top but added, “Your equalness to natborns is self evident. Even if the galaxy doesn’t think so, even if regs don’t think so and treat you badly.”

“How do you know about that?” Crosshair asked.

“I know a lot about this world that doesn’t make sense for me to know.” You sighed and wanted to avoid more questions. “May I use the sonic in your ‘fresher?” You changed the subject to something that would derail their brains. It worked, you could see the gears turning behind both their eyes, imagining you in there.

“Yeah of course,” Hunter said vaguely.

You hopped off the bunk, stood and gathered your food wrappers. “Where do these go?” Hunter took them from you sliding his hand along yours like a caress. He was the only one of the batchers you didn’t have to crane your neck to look at. You felt a gentleness from him now and a hungry curiosity.

“How long till we get to Anaxes?” You asked him.

“About half a rotation more, depending on conditions in the hyper lane.”

“I’ll just go get cleaned up and check on Echo.” You looked from Hunter to Crosshair. “Thank you for noticing I needed a quiet moment.” Crosshair straightened up and a look of pride crossed his face. You stepped over to your bag and bent down to grab its strap. Behind you you could hear what sounded like a combination of stifled sighs and barely audible groans. You side-eyed them as you left to the ‘fresher. Their eyes stayed on you ‘till they realized they were staring and you caught them.

Once in the tiny fresher you dug in your bag for the soap and washcloth you found in the officer’s quarters in the tower. It was quality stuff and its smell reminded you of sandalwood and vanilla. The sonic showers were something you had eventually gotten used to. They were ok, but when you had access to soap you’d found that soaping up with some water first made for a more familiar experience. Plus it always felt luxurious to smell like something besides lab antiseptic and the weird ozone-like smell your laundry always seemed to have. You emerged from the sonic, hung your washcloth on a hook on the wall and brushed your teeth. Then you put on sleep pants and a long sleeve shirt over a looser breast band with some pads in it. You didn’t want to be bouncing and leaking on a ship full of hot blooded men. You bundled your dirty clothes with your other ones and made sure you had a clean outfit for the next day. You were really going to need to do laundry soon. Now with any luck you’d make it to Echo without being intercepted.

You peaked out the fresher door. The cabin lights had been dimmed. Someone was snoring. You stepped out of the fresher with your bag and boots in hand. you could make out the figures of Tech, Anakin and Rex up in the cockpit. Tech was at the controls while the other two dozed in the seats. The others must be in their bunks from the sound of breathing and snoring behind the bulkhead where the bunks were. You tiptoed to the door where Echo was and went in. Out of the corner of your eye you swore you saw a figure standing by the bunks but pretended you didn’t and closed the door quickly.

Letting out a breath of relief to be closed off from the rest of the crew, you set your things inside a cabinet, approached Echo, and knelt next to him. Carefully you touched his hand. You let your guard down and felt into him with your mind. He was in a lighter sleep state, his heart was beating steady, blood pressure seemed fine, all his vessels seemed healthy. He had some inflammation around his spine and at his leg implant so you mended the micro tears in his flesh and calmed down his immune response, soothing it to rest. Rest. You felt like lead and slumped down laying your head on the cot next to his hand. You were about to doze off when he stirred and startled.

“Cyare, what are you doing on the floor?” He sat up and scooched back holding up the blanket, “Come up here and let me hold you.” You looked at his expectant face and felt a familiarity and concern from him through your fatigue. You climbed in under the blanket. He put the blanket roll over his metal arm for you to rest your head on and pulled your leg over his hip. Then circled his arm around your waist and slid his hand up your back pulling you close to his chest. You snuggled your face into his neck, wrapped your arm around him and focused on warming him up.

“No kar’ika, rest,” he said, his deep voice rumbling into your hair. He soothed your back and kissed the top of your head and you fell into a deep sleep.

[shybiii]

TMAGP is a very fun commentary on government institutions in that the OIAR is almost presented as this grand, sophisticated organization with rigorous bureaucracy, official-sounding departments and job titles, a para-military branch, and broad censorship of information in the name of keeping the powers over the world at bay. It is nonetheless almost completely impotent. There has been maybe one statement where they actually stopped someone from coming to harm. They actively collaborate or at least play nice with violent, dangerous individuals like Bonzo or Lady Mowbray most likely because it serves their interests to keep them around, despite the fact that taking them out would absolutely benefit innocent people in the long run. Their censorship has all the subtly and grace of a blunt instrument.

If they are genuinely attempting to keep the powers at bay, they are doing a monstrous job of it. Despite their 'attempts' at suppression, these incident reports keep cropping up. Random wizards like Ink5oul, Needles, the movie guy, and the dice guy are just running amok. That giant ritual thing at the Hilltop charity nearly went off without a hitch before the OIAR managed to bring in the SWAT team and nearly killed a civilian in the process. They posture as this efficient, authoritative establishment who, in reality, seem to barely know what the hell is going on. The most they can do is intervene after everything has already gone pear-shaped and write up a report after to catalogue it.

What I generally suspect is that they are not really there to stop anything or help anyone. After all, they actively dissuade employees from thinking too hard about the terrible things happening right in front of them. They are there to keep the status quo instead of actually bringing about change for the better. They are there to catalogue information and file it away with the satisfaction that they have translated a reality-defying threat into government-assigned categories, and that this might make them Less Unknown and Less Threatening if they can be classified with numbers and ranks and the language of bureaucracy. It's useless. Kafka-esque. Despite putting snappy labels on the incident reports, they don't actually seem that close to understanding most of it. At least not enough to actually stop danger before it starts. However, having this information gives them the illusion of control, and this acts as a deterrent for its dissemination toward the masses. Without all that super secret info, what do they really have going for them that gives them authority? Not much. These people are actively floundering, with their only strength being that knowledge is absolute power as long as there is someone who hoards it.

[queerandom]

I love WALL•E (2008). and not just as in "its so cute" way, but also critically, too. it's such a different movie. there have been movies centered around climate change, centered around robots, and centered around romance, but never before has the three been combined. additionally, WALL•E and EVE are so emotionally expressive, without using words. Pixar relies heavily on non-verbal communication and they're so good at it. there's only a handful of words ever spoken by WALL•E and EVE, and yet they are so emotionally expressive.

furthermore, they use the fact that WALL•E can repair himself for dramatic effect. when WALL•E dies, normally that'd be it for that character, but EVE manages to repair him. but then, oh no, he no longer has emotion and forgets everything. but then after a while, he finally recalls EVE and becomes WALL•E again in a dramatic twist.

also the commentary on both climate change and increasing dependency on technology is very eye-opening. what happened in the movie is actually not improbable to happen in real life, sans the hoverchairs, the robots with expressions, the sheer amount of garbage on Earth, and (hopefully) how one company basically rules the world.

I also find it an amazing contrast on how different WALL•E and EVE are, and yet they can communicate to each other, not with words but rather with expressions. WALL•E is (likely) over 700 years old, uses older tech, rusty, and complicated, whereas EVE is (likely) basically brand new compared to him, uses newer tech, clean, and simple.

finally, I love how much they exploit minor details in the bot's designs. WALL•E's tape deck is such a minor thing but is used for dramatic effect, like when he plays it to attempt to bring joy to a situation where he is dying. another example is his trash compactor, used as a storage bay for several scenes.

I rate this movie 9/10. it gets a point off because, despite the amount of emotion and drama in the movie, WALL•E is the only character with a lot of depth. all the other ones, including the cockroach, don't have much depth. we don't know much about EVE, the cockroach, the captain, Auto, etc.

however make sure you take all this with a grain of salt, I have little to no idea what the hell I'm talking about.

[twig-tea]

Get To Know Me Tag

Tagged by @telomeke @lurkingshan @my-rose-tinted-glasses @he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle and @hyeoni-comb thank you all! 💕

Do you make your bed?

I like a messy bed, it feels more welcoming to me somehow. The only time I make my bed is when I'm without heat and it's winter, then you gotta do it to keep in any residual warmth! But normally I'd rather keep everything loose.

What’s your favorite number?

I....don't think I have one? Is this a thing people have, how do you choose?

What is your job?

I manage a team of Product Owners in the Operations division of a multinational company. In other words, I go to a lot of meetings.

If you could go back to school, would you?

Absolutely not. Beyond the fact that I was formerly a substantive editor of university textbooks, which included both editing the textbook content and sometimes writing their ancillaries (tests, powerpoint slides, etc.) so it feels like I took first-year Sociology at least ten times, I just don't love formalized education. I love learning but on my own terms and at my own pace.

Can you parallel park?

I can't drive at all! Technically I learned how, took lessons and everything, but never got my license.

A job you had that would surprise people?

Hmm. I was a call center person for half a day, it was terrible and I left without getting paid for the work I did because I was so eager to get out of there I didn't want to fight them for my pay (even though I needed the money which is why I was there in the first place). I hate phone calls, I can't hear well on the phone, and it was clear the call center script was designed to be exploitative. It was one of the worst jobs for me I could have taken lol

Do you think aliens are real?

I think it's extremely likely!

Can you drive a manual car?

Nope, even when I learned, it was only on an automatic.

What’s your guilty pleasure?

I'm not guilty about it but I can decimate an entire family size mac and cheese when I'm feeling down.

Tattoos?

I have 3 tattoos; one on each foot and one on the back of my neck. They form a rainbow.

Favorite color?

Blue-green! The shade of preference for any given moment varies, but anything in the region from mint to aqua to teal to turquoise will do; I love them all.

Favorite type of music?

My music taste varies widely but the common denominators are 1) fast tempo or upbeat, 2) solid harmonies, and 3) if there's a tempo or key change I am doubly sold.

Do you like puzzles?

Love puzzles of all kinds. I have a collection of jigsaw puzzles I do regularly, and word puzzles, logic puzzles, sudoku type stuff is all very fun. I don't make a lot of time for them but I do them occasionally and always enjoy it.

Any phobias?

I am afraid of falling. Not heights, but falling. The difference is: I can lean over the railing at the top of a 20-storey building or walk on a glass floor over a big drop and just feel a minor thrill, but am terrified to the point of maybe crying if I have to balance on a single step of a ladder or walk across a patch of ice. I had several brushes with death related to falling when I was a kid, and a few bad falls that caused injury as an adult, so it makes sense. Luckily I am pretty tall so I rarely have to do any kind of ladder-ing!

Favorite childhood sport?

American-style tackle football. We used to play at lunch on the pavement because the soccer kids got the field; we played in all seasons including snow, and we did it for love of the sport. I loved it a lot.

Do you talk to yourself?

Occasionally I'll provide a little commentary on what's happening aloud to myself; but I don't really have fully conversations.

What movies do you adore?

I have loved a lot of movies in my time! A few random ones that come to mind right now because I've been thinking about them for whatever reason are Saving Face (2004), Monster (2023), Practical Magic (1998), Moonlight (2016), and Clue (1985).

Coffee or tea?

Despite my username being a type of tea, in this as in all things I am a perfect Kinsey 3. Love both equally and drink a ton of both (coffee more regularly, tea in greater volume).

First thing you wanted to be growing up?

Lifeguard, I think! And then when I was in elementary school I wanted to edit textbooks (I was that kid who got annoyed whenever there were mistakes), so I did actually get to do my childhood dream job.

No pressure tags just going with vibes based on who I've interacted with recently (if you've done this already tag me in the comments!): @rocketturtle4 @visualtaehyun @sollucets @troubled-mind @jimmysea @ginnymoonbeam

[secretlyafiveheadeddragon]

Which Jurassic Park is the best?

Rank them and explain your reasoning :)

(I saw u mention it on your 1hr No Notes ask game. Now i want to know)

In order from best to worst:

Jurassic Park (movie, 1995)— Classic film with perfect score, cinematography, and special effects. The practical effects mixed with minimal CGI makes it timeless, and it has aged phenomenally. Bonus points for the fact that instead of overtly sexualizing the female lead, they overtly sexualize Jeff Goldblum instead. Incredible. Def my favorite Spielberg movie, also, my favorite movie period.

Jurassic Park (book, 1990)— Also amazing, a little dense at times, but that is not a big deal. Some truly profound themes are at display here, I get so many goosebumps. I’m reading it again for a lit class and focusing on how it uses nature to further its themes, and it’s so interesting. I fuckjng love this book. It’s a bitter social commentary disguised as a thriller sci-fi novel, and has so many good dinosaur scenes.

The Lost World (book, 1995)— It’s a good sequel, I think that it doesn’t have as interesting of themes as the original and is a lot of the same things, and also Malcom was resurrected after very clearly dying in the first book, but I don’t really care. There’s some amazing dinosaur stuff in this one, and ofc a new set of kids to traumatize.

Jurassic Park: The Lost World (movie, 1997)— The plot isn’t as cohesive, but holy shit are the dinosaur scenes in this are so fucking good. The middle act is a little slow, but Ian Malcom (Jeff Goldblum) is the main character and that gives everything a pass. It comes after the book because they kill a dog, but it’s still an incredible movie and I love it. It bears absolutely no resemblance to the book it’s based off of besides a few names, but that’s fine.

Jurassic Park 3 (movie, 2001)— This is the first movie in the franchise that is BadTM, but I love it so much and you can pry it from my cold dead hands. As the plot loses coherence, the dinosaur scenes get more silly and fun. There’s this one scene where Alan Grant is dreaming on the plane on the way to the island, and a dream velociraptor says “Alan!” In the stupidest voice. 10/10 movie, wouldn’t change anything about it for the world. I consider it Not Canon, because of all the things that completely break the timeline, but holy shit is this movie a ride.

The Entirety of the Jurassic World Movies goes at the bottom, doesn’t really matter the order, they’re all rather bad. I would say the first one is the best, but I haven’t seen it in a while, and it manages to be more misogynistic to the female lead than the original Jurassic Park movies, despite being made like 20 years afterwards. The dinosaurs are all CGI, so there are no practical effects, and in the finale they chose to make the Big Bad this boring callback to Dodgson from the original, and they make the genetic tech threat giant locusts. That, and a shoehorned pandering lesbian, Chris Pratt, and stupid lava, makes these movies forgettable and bad.

[lucythornwalter]

Wait a minute, I hear you say. Why are we starting with Felicity? She’s neither the first girl to be released (that’s technically a three-way tie, but the honor is usually given to Kirsten) nor the earliest chronologically (that would be Kaya). What is it about her that means she deserves the first entries in this project?

Well, she might not be the first for Pleasant Company, but she was the first for me. In 1998, when I was five years old, I saw a single volume of one of Felicity’s books in a spinning book rack at a Hallmark store, and I asked my mother to buy it for me based on the cover art and the title (it was Felicity Saves the Day, and the cover features her riding a horse and looking determined but frightened). I read it in the car, and then read it again, and read it again. I was already fascinated by history and specifically by material history, by books about ordinary life in the past and books about artifacts and customs. An Usborne book about life in the medieval era was one of my favorites, alongside another Usborne book about world geography that talked about languages and religious beliefs. I also loved children’s-aimed history books and movies like An American Tail, even as much of the subtle commentary went over my head. I loved The Wizard of Oz and its period setting, and this was also the year I discovered Annie through the 1998 Wonderful World of Disney adaptation. In 1999 I became hooked on A Little Princess and The Secret Garden, and Cosette from Les Misérables and a kids’ graphic novel adaptation of Oliver Twist. I had a box set of the Little House books and had a favorite (On the Banks of Plum Creek, if you were curious. Yes, I’m aware of the irony of being indigenous and liking these books as a kid, but my parents were more concerned with making sure I never watched the turboracist Westerns when they came on TV, and by comparison the near-absence of Native people in the Little House books was pretty tame).

Essentially, I was exactly the kind of person who’d become fully fixated on the American Girl books, and on opinionated and spunky heroines like Felicity in particular.

So. Who is Felicity Merriman?

Felicity Merriman is the eldest child of Edward and Martha Merriman, who live and work in Williamsburg in 1774. Edward Merriman is a genteel tradesman who owns a prosperous general store, and Martha is the daughter and probable only surviving child of an unnamed Virginia planter who owns a substantial estate called King’s Creek. Felicity’s younger siblings are Nan, William, and Polly. Her best friend is Elizabeth Cole, a recently-arrived new colonist from England whose family is deeply loyal to the British crown. Her books are primarily about struggling to find her place as a straightforwardly masc-of-center tomboy who prefers crossdressing and working in the trades to mending and cooking, and about the social divides caused by growing anti-monarchist sentiment in the American colonies and how her friendships and morals are impacted by the political turmoil.

Felicity Merriman is also a slaveowner, from a slaveowning family, and at no point do the original six books manage to address this. In fact, they actively avoid it – the status of her father’s assistant Marcus as an enslaved person is only confirmed in the “Looking Back: A Peek Into the Past” section of Meet Felicity once, and while it’s acknowledged that King’s Creek Plantation is a slave-worked plantation with slave quarters, the text of Felicity Saves the Day never states outright that she interacts with slaves despite the illustrations depicting her in the fields alongside them. There’s a darker-skinned woman named Rose who assists her mother domestically, and unlike Marcus she is never confirmed to be either enslaved or free, forcing me to come to the conclusion that she’s probably also owned by the Merriman household and thus by Felicity.

This is the original and damning sin of Felicity’s books and character concept, and it cannot be escaped. Felicity’s social status protects her from a lot of misbehavior and allows her the luxury of a leisurely girlhood with easy education and no expectation that she work for a living beyond being a genteel housewife. She has to pitch in around the house along with her mother and Rose, but she has plenty of time to ride horses and play with her siblings, and she gets away with doing nothing all summer while her laundry and mending and food are all magically done with no effort from her.

This is also one of the twin original and damning sins of America-as-settler-colony – the irony of slaveowners calling for and fighting for a narrow definition of freedom with broad ideals that they only want to take for themselves is at this point a very old topic of conversation. The other sin, the theft of land and the genocide of Native people, isn’t mentioned at all in Felicity’s books. Felicity Saves the Day is at least conscious of the casual cruelty of the Merrimans and devotes much of its Looking Back chapter to discussion of plantation life for slaves, but the only mention indigenous people get is a comment in Meet Felicity that we lived in North America for fifteen thousand years prior to European settlement. Where did we go? What happened to us? Pleasant Company isn’t that concerned with the question.

As a result, Felicity’s books are best read with something of a critical eye. Once you see how completely and how purposefully slavery is erased from her daily life, it becomes impossible to ignore, and kind of drowns out all the other things that are still excellent. And that’s a real shame, I think. There’s a lot to be examined here, about girlhood in the 1770s and girlhood in the 1990s, about class and gender and how those things impact and frustrate Felicity, about how she grows in confidence and about her sense of justice. Those things had an impact on me – I was inspired by her at five years old and I can recognize that fondness and desire to be just like her now, twenty-six years later.

Ultimately, I can love and appreciate what I, personally, internalized about her story and her journey to womanhood, but I’m never going to be able to uncritically lose myself in her world again. That’s the best and most comprehensive introduction I can give, and even that isn’t enough to effectively answer for what Pleasant Company chose to do. I can’t defend it, and I won’t defend it, but this was neither the first nor last book series I loved that was written by racists. I love it enough to say it fucked up badly, and I will be talking about this as it comes up (or doesn’t) in the text. That’s the best I can offer.

So let’s Meet Felicity.

[welcometololaland]

Lola! Tell me about #8 please? I read red room and I'm hooked already!

sakdjh thank you so much for asking about this. so it's very rogue and literally none of it is written but (hear me out) @celeritas2997 and I were subjecting ourselves to the cinematic...adventure that is 50 shades of grey (the original), and as you can imagine we were not paying 100% attention, largely because we were doing a lot of shit talking (i mean, have y'all ever PAUSED on the contract scene?? that contract is formatted so weirdly).

anyway, we came up with this incredibly stupid fic premise where henry is the mysterious bachelor who is managing an arm of mountchristen enterprises (much to his dismay), and june, a journalism major, is sent to interview him. it's a very exclusive interview because henry hates giving interviews, largely because he doesn't WANT HIS JOB, but of course our june (the legend that she is) gets one. alex knows how much this means to june, and so when she falls ill and can't attend the interview, alex JUST DECIDES TO GO INSTEAD (rip june) (this is an actual plot point from 50 shades, like hands up if you would kill your roommate because i would).

alex goes rogue in the interview ofc (see: the real line in 50 shades where anastasia asks christian point blank if he is GAY), but henry is kinda charmed by him and so asks him out for dinner.

alex, having unfortunately been subjected to the movie that is 50 shades of grey (is this very meta? the answer is yes. will it contain commentary on 50 shades of grey? absolutely), becomes convinced that henry is in fact christian-lite and starts asking about red rooms and whips and henry has to be like 'okay so 50 shades is in fact a terrible indictment on the bdsm community and also i am not christian grey' but unfortunately this only makes alex more intrigued and THINGS GO FROM THERE.

IT IS CRACK. IT IS COMEDY. IT IS SHIT TALKING ON 50 SHADES. IT IS PROBABLY AS UNHINGED AS MACFISH.

i rest my case xoxoxoxo

(sorry that you asked a perfectly normal question and this is what i gave you, i hope you still like me after this 💜😭🙏)

[claudia1829things]

"LOST" (3.15) "Left Behind" Commentary

"LOST" RETROSPECT - (3.15) "Left Behind"

Have you ever watched a movie or television episode and had maintained an opinion of it for years? Only to change your mind after an umpteenth viewing of it? That is what happened to me after a recent rewatch of the "LOST" Season Three episode, (3.15) "Left Behind"

I might as well begin with the episode's "B" plot. This featured a "B" plot that involved Oceanic survivors Hugo "Hurley" Reyes and James "Sawyer" Ford. Following the events of the previous episode, (3.14) "Exposé", Hurley informs Sawyer that the rest of survivors are in the middle of a debate on whether to banish the Alabama-born con man from the camp. Hurley reminds Sawyer about the benefits of living within a society and suggests that Sawyer start making efforts to make amends for his past actions.

All I have to say is . . . who had written this episode? Honestly. For years, I thought it was a decent, but not exactly mind-blowing episode. But after this latest viewing, I honestly do not know what to think of it. I might as well start with the "B" plot. What can I say? I found it annoying and pointless. It is not that I had any sympathy for Sawyer at this point in the series. I did not. I did not care for Sawyer until Season Five. If Hurley believed the Oceanic camp needed a leader to fulfill the absence of Jack, Sayid and John Locke; he should have stepped up and volunteered for the role, himself. If he was capable of pushing or manipulating Sawyer into stepping into the leadership role, he was capable of assuming the role of leader himself. Instead, Hurley pulled this stupid con job in order to manipulate Sawyer into assuming the role. All this plot managed to achieve was solidify my belief that Hurley was definitely a man child . . . at least through most of the series' run.

Since "Left Behind" happened to be a Kate-centric episode, I might as start with her flashback. In it, Kate meets Sawyer's old flame (at least two-to-three years before she met him on the island), Cassidy Phillips, while the latter was attempting to sell questionable jewelry. Kate comes to her aid before a potential customer could inform the cops. After Cassidy guesses that Kate, who was a fugitive, also did not want to attract the cops; the two women become fast friends. Cassidy agrees to help Kate distract the local law enforcement and U.S. Marshal Edward Mars, so that the fugitive could contact her mother, a waitress at an Iowa road cafe Diane Janssen. You see . . . Kate wanted to know why dear old Mom had ratted her to the cops after she had murdered her father.

I rather liked Cassidy and it was good to see her again after her previous appearance in a Sawyer flashback from Season Two. But I found Kate's agenda very annoying. Why on earth would she be shocked at her mother's decision to inform the police about her murder? Was the audience really expected to sympathize with Kate over Diane's action . . . and becoming perplexed about it? Because I still feel no sympathy for Kate. Audiences learned in the Season Two episode that Kate had murdered her father, Wayne Janssen, in (2.09) "What Kate Did". Diane had a very good reason for snitching on Kate. As she had reminded the latter, Kate had cold-bloodedly murdered Diane's husband, blew up her house and committed insurance fraud to cover up the fact that a murder had been committed. Worse, Kate had lied about the real reason she killed Wayne. She had killed him for her own personal and selfish reason. And yet, in the end, Kate had decided not to forgive her mother for ratting her out? Fuck that! Diane had a chance to rat her out a second time in this episode. Only she did not bother. Kate had her good moments as an individual, but her complaints about Diane in this episode only convinced me how incredibly selfish and delusional she could be.

I finally come to the episode's main plot. While being held captive by the Others for less than a day at their compound, Kate Austen peaks out of a house and spots the group packing to leave. Seconds later, someone tosses a gas cannister, which knocks her out. Some time passes before Kate regains conscious and finds herself handcuffed to the Others' rogue member, Dr. Juliet Burke. Kate is not particularly fond of Juliet, due to the latter being an Other and for developing a close friendship with the Oceanic survivors' leader, Dr. Jack Shephard. While Kate insists upon returning to the Barracks to find another Oceanic captive, Sayid Jarrah, and Jack; Juliet insists upon heading for the Oceanic beach camp. The pair experience a series of adventures involving an encounter with the island entity, "the Smoke Monster", while arguing over Jack and the reason behind Juliet's estrangement from the Others.

I have a question. Why did Kate ask Juliet what the latter had done to piss off Ben and the Others? Juliet had murdered Pickett - right before Kate's eyes - in order to save her and Sawyer. Had she experienced memory loss or something? Had Damon Lindelof and Elizabeth Sarnoff really concocted this ridiculous plot to handcuff Juliet to Kate? According to a later episode, Ben had conceived this handcuff plan. But why? Hold on. I know why. Ben had expected Juliet to use this situation to gain Kate's trust - and through the latter, the Oceanic castaways' trust. Yet again, WHY? All Juliet had to do was agree with Kate's plan to return to the Barracks. Both would have easily found Jack. After all, she had managed to gain his sympathy and friendship during his captivity with the Others. It seemed so pointless to handcuff Juliet to Kate and try to gain her trust. This whole scenario struck me as unnecessary and infantile. As for the catfight in the rain? Very sexist and I suspect, typical of this series' showrunners. And Juliet's encounter with the Smoke Monster? Pointless, because she never encountered it again.

Looking back on my recent rewatch of "Left Behind", I cannot believe I had accepted it as a tolerable episode that could pass muster. Because I find it difficult to accept this . . . at least now. There were too many idiotic plot points and situations for me to regard it as nothing more than an example of one of the less than exemplary episodes from "LOST".