#and like. i KNOW people will say killing the crew was not justifiable at all

[gece-misin-nesin]

lowkey think that if jorge really wanted to sell us on the "odysseus is a monster thing" he should have had odysseus continue to stab poseidon even after he begged. bc like. Looking at odysseus now? he's less a monster and more like a morally grey protagonist. All of his questionable actions have pretty good explanations behind them. if you want to tell me he's a MONSTER, you need him to do something really fucking vile. without good justification. killing the baby? (also. he fought in a war. i reckon plenty of babies died indirectly as a result of his actions somehow) zeus literally told him he and his family would die otherwise. blinding the cyclops? pretty self-explanatory. sacrificing the men to scylla? bad, but has an understandable reason behind it and you can theoretically justify it. choosing the crew to die? saving his own life+you could argue they are the ones at fault for eating the cows anyway. torturing poseidon? there's literally no other way poseidon would let him go at that point AND he immediately stops after he begs.

point is, if you're going to tell me a character is a monster then at least make them do something that cannot be defended. something that CANNOT be justified at all. continuing to stab poseidon after being begged would have done that. but who knows, maybe the suitors being killed will be shown as something like that? still unlikely though considering they plot to kill telemachus and rape penelope.

[scliffe]

I know most of us (including me) laughed (quite a lot) on this scene because; Earl Ciel “Sebastian-Kill-Them-All” Phantomhive of all people, is saying something like this about killing people? It sounds so fake and ridiculous right? Hypocritical, even. But I also think it’s rather empathetic of Ciel to say this in front of the Weston boys because he understands that these boys did not murder out of evil intent; it was a crime of passion, not premeditated. I’m sure that in Ciel’s eyes, these upperclassmen of his are still much more innocent than he is—and so when he speaks to them, he is speaking to “normal people”, not serial murderers. But while Ciel does not see the prefects as evil people, he doesn’t infantilize them either. He does not empathize with them trying to justify their actions; because things like school values or reputation is not a worthy cause for these boys to kill someone over. At the same time Ciel may not personally care about the lives of Derrick Arden and the others, but he does not think students should turn into murderers over such menial issues.

In comparison, when he speaks to Joker in BOC, he was unfiltered and candid—he’s speaking of something he personally believes; that deep cynicism and distrust in humanity. Unlike the Weston students, Joker’s actions were premeditated; he planned to kidnap children—knowing they would be abused and turned into some sick plaything before brutally murdered—and methodically eliminated witnesses to avoid getting caught. Joker knew exactly what he was doing when he organized these crimes to sacrifice others for his family’s lives. And yet the way Ciel spoke, he wasn’t passing judgement on Joker at all; he acutely understood the despair of facing injustice with no one lending a helping hand; the desperate wish to protect one’s family and loved ones above what’s considered to be morally correct by society; he knows better than anyone else how hell is paved with good intentions. This too, was incredibly empathetic in a strange way that only Ciel could be. Although Joker lamented their fate as abandoned orphans living in an apathetic society, Ciel does not pity them and thus did not simply reduce them to gullible victims of their circumstances. He did not justify Joker’s actions, and he did not justify his own actions in killing Joker and the circus crew either—he was incredibly self aware and fair; equally as ruthless to other people as with himself. He understood that everyone acted in their own interests. By removing complicated principles of morality out of the equation, he is able to see things clearly and act decisively without ridiculous notions of human morality. After all, what use does he have for it when his soul is already damned anyway?

Ciel keeps away from people and refrains from making personal attachments; and yet he is still very empathetic to each of them without even meaning to. In the flashbacks, he was also depicted to be a sensitive and kindhearted child. Despite everything he has gone through, he still retains a bit of that gentleness and sincerity from his childhood; which I think comes with being naturally emotionally intelligent—he has an unusually acute insight on people which certainly helps his business acumen, and ironically also helps him know how to lie and act in front of other people. While Sebastian is a “master of understanding human desires”, Ciel understands the complexity and most basic nature of humanity better than anyone else; which forms both his cynicism and his own brand of empathy.

[7thblackbird]

18/2 RATS Martyn's stream Recap

So a lot happened today so I need to write this. I really recommend everyone to watch Martyn's stream bc wtf

So for the most part of the stream Martyn was building the stage for the Rats Awards (which will take place on Friday, although he won't be there bc Timmy is visiting) until the last 20 minutes or so. "Building stream" he said "Just chilling" he said.

Meanwhile, Apo is looking for the murderer of his giant plush goose wife (who Martyn destroyed at the beginning of the smp for materials). He talks to Eloise, who only tells them who was around that day; however, they then follow her and hear her talking to Martyn, so he suspects him.

Therefore Apo goes talk to Ren (who wasn't streaming, was just building the ship) and tells him about it. Ren accepts to go with him and confront Martyn, and that if he's the murderer the whole situation will be decided by a duel. So they tell Martyn to accompany them to the library, where Apo tells him about the situation and Martyn admits to be the killer but defends himself saying that he didn't know about it being Apo's, that he didn't know Apo that much at that point anyway, that it's only a plushie and that he needed the material to build Ren's desk so it was captain's orders. Ren intervenes and says that they should duel bc that's how stuff is decided in the high seas. However, Martyn doesn't have his knife bc he lended it to Eloise a bit earlier (which makes him think that she is in with the set up) so he easily loses and dies (although honestly, Apo is pretty good at pvp he might have won anyway idk). Which leads to a lore intermission with the bright green screen and a 3 lives -> 2 lives countdown.

When he wakes up he goes retake his stuff and he's pretty pissed off so when he meets Ren in the office he lashes out for just standing there and letting him be killed. Ren tries to justify himself and tells him that he fought well but Martyn is still angry. Atp he is also tired for all their previous issues (with Ren's obsession with sangrías and for not listening to him), tells him that he shouldn't have invited so many people to the crew and that he shouldn't be the captain, and threatens to mutiny. So Ren, in the craziest plot twist of the season, tells him that he doesn't understand the role of a captain and that those rats are necessary bc he will be trading some of them for cargo in a port. And Martyn is so fucking thrown back for that he is like "ooooh. damn. bye bye."

He then briefly confronts Eloise who says he wasn't expecting Apo to go that far but I feel like Martyn is in his Blondbeard 2.0 arc now

So that's the whole thing. The Ren thing is so crazy, not even ccMartyn was expecting that. Also, Martyn always uses the music in his streams so well, it's smth that always wows me. Btw I am writing this just after the stream ended and hadn't had time to check Apo or Eloise's povs yet, so if someone wants to correct me on smth tell me and I will make changes

Edit: apparently Apo listened to the end of the Ren-Martyn conversation and confronted the captain but Ren is like nope and tries to deflect by reminding him that he has killed Martyn and that "justice" has been done. So Apo also knows about the rat trafficking thing. I am not including it in this post bc it's getting looong but Apo also has had their own interesting lore going on about having an identity crisis and why they did what they did, so go watch that as well!

[autumnmobile12]

The League of Morons vs A Summer Camp

All right, so I love the hell out of this nonsense and I want to talk about the Vanguard's plan and how ridiculous it was.

First, most of the crew showed up a night early and…well, then what?  That first night, Dabi says they’re still waiting on a few more people to arrive.  Okay, so what are you all doing here already?

Did Kurogiri warp them back to the bar after they’d gotten a look at the place?  Scouted the area a bit?  You needed seven people for that? Were they that bored waiting for Twice, Compress, and the Nomu to show up?  What were they doing in the 24 hours between this part and the actual attack?  Standing on that cliff and muttering,  “Heroes…”?

Was Toga all, "Guys, I'm tired. Can we go back to the bar already?"

Spinner: "No, as villain protocol dictates, we must stand here menacingly for a minimum of twelve hours."

Dabi: Fuck you, I'm going to bed.

Except for being a scare tactic, having Dabi start a fire was mostly unnecessary. Their goal was to further weaken society's faith in heroes by targeting UA students, so you'd think he'd be a little more proactive in...well, actually harming someone. As it happened, the fire really only to served to announce there was an attack happening.

But I’ll throw the Vanguard a bone here and say this was Spinner’s doing.  Like their original plan was to start a massive fire that would consume both classes and all the heroes in a singular tragedy, but then Spinner said,  “Hey, pump the breaks, people.  We’re here to uphold Stain’s ideals about toppling the corrupt Hero culture.  Do we really want mass child murder as part of our brand?” Sure, he wanted to go after Iida, but he was a specific target since he was on Stain's hit list.

The two copies Twice made of Dabi were virtually useless in a fight since Vlad and Aizawa both took him out so quickly it was embarrassing.  And yet he’s apparently a big enough threat that No. 1 and No 2. can’t handle him.  Go fig.

Endeavor/Hawks:  Oh, no, he’s too strong…

Aizawa/Vlad:  Listen here, you little shit!

...

Muscular goes and reveals their plan even though he didn’t have to.  They all saw the Sports Festival, they knew what Bakugo looked like, and yet here he is asking Deku where he he can find Bakugo as if he was going to answer him.  Yes, he didn’t think there was any harm in telling him since his plan was to kill Deku anyway, but alerting UA to the fact they were looking to kidnap someone is still just hubris.

Going after Bakugo in the first place was a dumb idea.  We can probably credit that one to Shigaraki because only he would look at the violently temperamental teenager raging on national television and think,  “Yes, he seems like a reasonable person to negotiate with.”

...

Gonna drop in some actual light criticism here: Given the inequality issues that arise in the series later, targeting the heteromorph students for recruitment purposes would have been a smarter move for the LoV.  They’re all part of a demographic that has a justified reason for being dissatisfied with society, so there would have been a believable chance of the LoV thinking they could sway some people to their side.

But hey, the League of Villains was on a learning curve. Give 'em a break.

He totally saw Aoyama here.  Or at least he heard him because he clocked that there was something weird about that bush and he was going to go check it out…and then Twice distracted him and Dabi has an total ADHD moment and forgets what he was doing.

And it's not because Aoyama was the spy. Nobody in the Vanguard knew.

1.) Shigaraki says he tried and couldn't figure out where the camp was, but AFO figured it out relatively quickly. So if even his successor doesn't know who the spy was or called on that resource, then why would AFO tell anyone else in the group?

2.) Moonfish, Muscular, and Mustard were all apprehended, but none of them ratted out Aoyama, as someone with nothing left to lose would. Neither did Kurogiri when he was later apprehended, but that one may have been a loyalty matter. So I think this was a case of AFO saying, "I have a source of info and you don't need to know who it is." Because at the end of the day, AFO is an arrogant narcissist who's definitely not placing all his eggs in one basket. Aoyama wouldn't be an easy spy to replace, so of course AFO would want to limit any chances of him being exposed.

So this was Dabi's screw up.

Speaking of forgetting things, Dabi also straight up forgot they had a Nomu because he thanked Twice for reminding him they had a Nomu.

Sir....how the hell do you forget you have a Nomu?

Toga was supposed to get blood from at least three people.  She failed.

Twice had a simple job. Create clones. He succeeded, but the only two he made were Dabi and I refer you to the previous point on how useless they were.

Spinner and Magne’s roles were a diversion. Distract the Wild, Wild Pussycats and give everyone else the opening to find and kidnap Bakugo.

They did pretty well. Up until the point they were almost caught and Kurogiri had to bail them out. Also Spinner lugged the giant, over-the-top blade contraption all the way there only for Deku to destroy it.

However, they do deserve some credit for making probably the best strategic decision of the group that night, and that was taking out Pixie Bob. We saw on the first day of the camp that she was able to hold back a class of twenty students with an army of earth creatures she was simultaneously controlling. That would have been a huge problem, so for the purposes of their team, good on them for removing that obstacle.

Underrated squad members right here.

Mustard was a legitimate threat for same reasons Dabi and his fire was a threat, plus he brought a firearm into the fight. (I want to know what the other villains thought when they saw that.)

But instead of putting him in the center of the fight where he could do some significant harm, they placed him on the outliers and all he did was knock some students unconscious and everybody made a full physical recovery, showcasing the gas he emitted wasn’t all that lethal and didn't cause any long-term complications. (Again, maybe this was Spinner's idea of Stain's ideology on not indiscriminately massacring children. "Guys, I'm telling you! That's fucked up!")

The Nomu (effectively brain dead without orders) did more damage than any of them, which makes the previous point that Dabi forgot they had it even funnier.

And finally, Mr. Compress was missing for half the night and then almost came in clutch by fulfilling their main objective plus extra credit, only to nearly blow it with his showboating. Seriously, they could have gotten away with both Bakugo and Tokoyami had they just booked it while the going was good.

But no, Compress had to make a dramatic production of it. When he first snatched the kids, he could have just left and Deku and company would have had no idea what happened. Had he just kept his mouth shut and left, they wouldn't have known he even existed. Then as the Vanguard members were leaving through the warp gates, he goes and does it again, giving Aoyama enough time to fire at them with his navel laser, something that also could have bee avoided had Dabi just checked the fucking bush!

The Vanguard Action Squad won by sheer dumb luck and their collective incompetence actually succeeding is the most hilarious thing about this arc. In the end, three members of their crew were arrested.  (Although I think everyone was secretly relieved they lost Moonfish.  Even if he was on my side, I’d be actively worried that guy would kill and eat me in my sleep.)

Yet this self-important twerp is smiling like they actually did something to be proud of here.  All Dabi really accomplished personally was grab a marble (coincidentally the correct marble) before Shouto could, which is borderline more standard older sibling behavior than actual villainy. He literally lost two separate fights in one night and called it a win.

This arc was a five episode Scooby-Doo trap going wrong and succeeding.

Seriously, I hope that after the warp gates closed, they all just looked at each other and immediately started calling each other out on everything. Like Dabi slapped Compress upside the head and asked him what he'd been thinking having 'one last bow' before they got away. Spinner yelling at Dabi about how the clones did nothing. And there's Bakugo all, "I can't believe I've been kidnapped by a gaggle of morons."

Fake it till you make it at its finest.

[dearqueerheart]

sorry just let me infodump for one second, ok? ok.

epic the musical has me in a chokehold (spoilers ahead, PLEASE GO LISTEN if it seems like something you’d be into). and i was rethinking on the song Monster. specifically, the part where he begins to justify being cruel by comparing himself to the foes he’s faced. polyphemus, circe, poseidon (i 1000% think the order matters, ill get there in a second). and all of that just shows how his, like so many dangerously intelligent men in greek myths, big flaw is hubris. overwhelming hubris. he thinks that he’s allowed to be cruel because a cyclops, a witch, and a god are allowed to be cruel. he is just one of so many greeks who think they’re as good as — or even better than — the gods.

and there are hints of this throughout the entire show up until that point. he attempts (and succeeds in, after facing tragic losses) to deceive polyphemus by drugging him with the lotus fruit, believing that he is more powerful and intelligent than the cyclops. he tries to reason with poseidon after being asked by the sea god for an apology for blinding his son, but he does this in SUCH a manipulative way. poseidon tells him, “i won’t kill your men if you apologize to me,” and ody goes, “alright bet,” and gives him such an incredible non-apology (“poseidon, we meant no harm”). he is too fucking proud to apologize, and will attempt to MANIPULATE AN OLYMPIAN GOD in order to protect that pride. it’s wild.

he actually does successfully “defeat” circe, but only by literally begging her (“i beg you circe, grant us mercy”) to save his men and help him get home. he wins this fight because he puts his pride aside for once in his goddamn life, and rescues the scouting party because of it.

so here’s why the order matters in the song monster: he’s working himself up to comparing himself to an olympian. he doesn’t list his foes in chronological order. he lists them in amount of power and intelligence. if you just take what he’s saying at face value, he says “well, polyphemus was justified, and circe was justified, and poseidon was justified, then i must be, too!” but if you read deeper, he’s comparing his evil deeds to the evil deeds of people far more powerful and complicated and experienced than him.

in the thunder saga, both scylla and zeus manipulate this pride. scylla uses it to drop odysseus’ guard, inviting him to compare himself to her, and to find kinship with her, as they’re both “monsters” (“deep down, you know that we are the same”). and zeus tests his pride, to see how deep it fully goes, and possibly to reveal to odysseus himself how prideful he is. like poseidon and athena, zeus may be trying to teach odysseus a lesson, albeit significantly harsher than the latter. (“if i had to make you choose the lives of your men and crew or your own, why do i think they’d lose?”) it’s one of my favorite moments in that song, because it’s really just zeus pushing all of odysseus’ buttons to force him to make the choice that zeus wants him to make.

anyway that’s all. it’s just so cool and i have a lot of thinks!! i could make a whole essay just about the gods’ desire to teach odysseus but i’ll save that for another time.

[stackslip]

the aftermath of scar's first attack on the elrics has a markedly different tone in 03 and mangahood and ive seen some mangahood fans says it's an example of why they dislike 03 over manga/brotherhood—in 03, the brothers are very clearly closed off from the rest of the mustang gang and reaffirm their own strong bond to each other above all, not trusting the adult military members; whereas in mangahood there IS a moment of complicity and relaxation with the mustang gang for coming to rescue them, and a lot of people cite it as part of their endearment for mangahood—the elrics aren't alone, and they learn to trust and love other people, including the military adults who have their best interests in mind.

difference in taste asides, i think that this is forgetting a crucial element of the previous eps and why exactly 03 ed and al react the way they do. unlike mangahood, where scar just appears as a demonic and horrific threat without much context except that he's from ishbal, in 03 the elrics learn about ishbal and the military's atrocities there right before confronting scar. they're told firsthand that it wasnt the heroic military action they'd been told, but a savage genocide that their friends in the military actively partook in! ed and al have a whole conversation about whether scar is justified before ever confronting him, they learn of his losses, and al.... actively believes that scar IS justified, and that were al in scar's shoes he too might snap this way. scar's actions are immediately recontextualized to the viewer before we see him attack our protagonists, a great amount of sympathy is given to him by the narrative and by alphonse. and not only do the brothers have to suddenly contend with how their plucky military colleagues have aided in genocide, and that they have been actively lied to by the military, but then ed gets the bomb dropped on him that mustang killed winry's parents. his superior officer and the guy leading the plucky military crew is directly responsible for the suffering of their close friend!

so like, between this, scar almost killing ed but showing al certain empathy and promising edward he won't harm his brother, having to swallow that not only is the military is far worse an institution than either the brothers suspected but that the people cheerfully teasing them and showing concern for their safety have been active participants in unbelievable levels of suffering (including the suffering of an amestrian girl they DO know)..... yeah, of course al and ed end up being far more closed off to the mustang gang after scar's attack! ed didnt just almost die and lose his arm, he has to suddenly contend with very ugly truths and how much mustang might have been hiding from him til now. no wonder they reaffirm their bond to each other—how do you trust these people when they're still in the military after being ordered to murder innocent people and the help lie that it was a simple and necessary military operation? ed at this point is still somewhat stuck in his "well Equivalent Exchange means the world is fair and also i got some deep racist issues embedded in me, so surely the military didnt commit genocide for no good reason right?" but like.... he's still swallowing the pill that he was lied to, that mustang murdered winry's parents on direct orders from the military, that his becoming a state alchemist really was selling his soul to the devil. and al is coping with his own mortality and body, and with how what he would have done had he been scar, how fucked the entire situation is.

honestly it's a much better take on scar imo but it's also yet another example of how 03 is bitingly critical of not only the amestrian military as an institution, but of the people who willingly participate in it. there's no neat separation of the good military heroes and the evil military dogs—once you join the amestrian military you ARE their dog. you've signed away your soul. you're an active participant in their crimes, unless you leave and actively begin opposing them. scar pointed out himself he would have let ed live had ed quit the military earlier! he's only interested in going after the people who have been actively participating in amestris's military atrocities. and yeah it does mean that the mustang crew in 03 is not the lovable goof squad or Found Family people care about in mangahood, but tbh 03 is just fundamentally uninterested in these kinds of dynamics at all.

i think it's ok to have different taste and say, well, i need/want a crew of lovable goofs and found family to enjoy fma as a whole! but i think it's completely unfair to criticise 03 for saying that your favourite war criminals are.... war criminals, and that the teenage protagonists' realisation of the extent of their crimes should not at all affect their dynamic with the crew.

[l-in-the-light]

Trafalgar Law - Bad Manners edition

I got inspired by the reblog I got and I thought: damn, this would be fun to write, so let's go!

We all know our Surgeon of Death isn't exactly known for having good manners and is often called rude. So let's count his crimes against the etiquette, just for fun! And at the end of it I will leave you all a surprise.

List of Trafalgar Law's feats in rudeness (feel free to provide more evidence!)

Two middle fingers (one for Kid and one for Doflamingo, people he hates)

No greetings (hi, hello, bye, take care, good luck, welcome back, they're all nonexistent in his vocabulary)

Blatant and obnoxious lies (we will never forget the "this is my vacation house now")

Telling people to shut up (justice for Chopper!)

Never saying "please" and "thank you" (at least not on screen, with one notable exception)

Ordering people around (with exception of alliances)

Not introducing his crew properly

Using blatantly censorable speech (so far only Doflamingo deserved that)

Throwing empty threats of death

Calling certain people idiots

Other sins of uncertain nature:

using "ya" to adress people instead of usual "san", "kun" etc. (can be seen as rude, but at the same time just as quirky)

cheeky smirks

complaining (lots and lots of complaining), scolding and shouting

throwing bowl at the ground that one time (which I still think is his trauma response, he never throws anything besides that one time)

Things he could be doing but for some reason never does, despite people lowkey expecting him to:

being arrogant

speaking to people like they're stupid or patronizing over them

never apologizing (he actually always apologizes and takes responsibility for actions of other people he works with. He apologized to Sanji when his plan went astray and he endangered the crew in Dressrosa, he apologized to Kin for Luffy and Zoro doing the Okobore town shanenigans in Wano as well)

killing people (never happened on-screen. The closest to that was Vergo, but that was indirect and Law left him with a snail, so he could actually get help if he wanted to)

swearing (it is a shonen manga after all lol)

not listening or talking over someone (come on, he even let Luffy steal the bribe call he made to Doflamingo!)

refusing help when asked for it directly (doing support in battle also counts. he suggested leaving the kids behind in Punk Hazard, but it was a suggestion. In the end he still couldn't refuse)

butting into other crew's personal matters (he always asks Luffy first so he can communicate about staff to his own crew)

laughing at people (or laughing in general)

expecting to receive gratefulness (with the exception of Bellamy, but that's because the other blames him for saving his life. Other than that he never even waits long enough to hear a thanks)

We all know he wasn't always like this. He was a very polite child adressing his parents with "otousama" and "okaasama". The only time he said "please" on screen was when he asked Vergo to help Cora-san. I think you can imagine why that was the last time he ever said the word. Not only it was extremely difficult for him to utter that word after Flevance, his request was also met with the most bitter conclusion. I think he lost faith and trust in asking people for help (as well as lost faith in many, many things).

Being accused of "bad manners" and using "-san" honorific brings back bad memories for Law.

Now Law's reaction to Kid doesn't seem that out of place anymore. Is it enough to justify it? Probably not, but it's nice to know everything has a reason.

And now the promised surprise:

Despite everything, Law still remembers his proper table manners and takes off his hat at mealtime. You have all those bad-mannered boys here and Law, the good boy, remembering it's rude to eat with a hat on. Or maybe it's even a sign of trust and respect, two things he reserves for people who have actually earned it.

Take that! *throws the finger Phoenix Wright style*

My conclusion: Trafalgar Law's rudeness, not counting very colorful speech that one time and two middle fingers, and some empty threats, isn't really that outstanding in general. I think most of his bad manners are shared with Strawhats (for example, many of them don't use proper greetings, regularly shout at each other to shut up and call each other idiots). Actually, compared to most of the guys in Strawhats, Law comes off as not really that oustanding or even pretty decently mannered which is kinda funny lol.

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 7

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: I think a lot of you have been waiting on this one…and stick around after the end for something special!

Song Inspo: For this chapter it’s “Can’t Wait” by Foreigner (if you listen to it, you’ll see why).

Word Count: 5,000

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut and feels. That is all.

Part 7: Until Midnight

Two weeks later, you could admit that Ben was frustrating you in a different way than usual. 

You didn’t want to like him, or be indebted to him. But he was different lately whenever the two of you were alone. Especially at night, when the two of you often met in the kitchen. 

It was the one time where he truly seemed to relax, without his men around him. Without the Soldier Boy persona he wore like a fine tailored suit. 

One night, the two of you were once again sitting together in the kitchen after a marathon of all three Hangover movies. Now you each had a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, of which you’d convinced him to try the “Chunky Monkey” so you could have your “Half Baked” brownie pieces and cookie dough to yourself. 

Ben had all but inhaled his, while you were still chipping away at half the pint.

“You still hate me?” he asked.

You paused in delving into a thick piece of brownie to look up at his bearded face, which was deceptively nonchalant. If he was asking you that, then he really did want to know.

Yet it was a harder question to answer than you would’ve thought a couple of weeks ago. You decided to level him with the truth this time.

“Like I said before, I don’t have a personal vendetta against you or anything,” you admitted. 

Ben rose a brow at you. “But you hate me.” 

You sighed. He could be so childish sometimes.

“Have you forgotten that you’re still holding me against my will?” you pointed out. “Presumably until my team can find me, and you can pick them off one by one.”

“You fuckers came at me first,” he countered. “And I haven’t touched you. Hell, I saved you.”

Yes, he had. You couldn’t ignore that fact.

But there were other reasons that he needed to be put in check.

“You’ve killed a lot of fucking people, Ben,” you said. “I can’t imagine how many of them didn’t deserve it. And before you start, collateral damage is not an excuse. It’s murder. You haven’t seemed to care about that, or much of anyone other than yourself and your own amusement.” 

There. Cards on the table.

Ben set down his ice cream on the counter with enough force to rattle his spoon. He crossed his arms at you.

“You’re pretty fucking high and mighty for someone who probably spent the last few years up Vought’s shithole,” he pointed out, shaking his head. “Doing their dirty work. Whatever I did back then, it didn’t end with me. You were part of it too.”

You frowned in annoyance. A hot retort was poised on your tongue.

Whatever he did back then? He’d crashed a skyscraper and killed nineteen people last year! He’d taken out nearly the entire cast of Payback, his old team. However justified he felt about the latter, taking a life was taking a goddamn life!

You wanted to say all that and more…but you paused.

Because he wasn’t exactly wrong, about you at least. You knew you’d done your fair share of shit. And you had taken people out, when you’d needed to.

For self-defense, to stop a criminal, to protect someone…and yes, sometimes, you’d been part of the cleanup crew. Disposing bodies and extracting supes from “unfortunate situations.”

Those times made you feel less than human for being a part of it. And it was the main reason why you’d gotten the courage to quit Vought and join Supe Affairs in the first place…

You frowned at the trail of your thoughts, but his voice soon jolted you out of them.

“Ain’t this a bitch,” said Ben. “If you could, you’d want me dead. Even though I saved you.” 

Your lips pursed. “Dead is a strong word.” 

His angry gaze on you was unrelenting.

“Asleep is as good as dead for me.”

You stared back at him in resignation. Fair enough.

You couldn’t refute that, but you also didn’t know what he wanted from you. He was implying that he wanted you not to hate him, but he wasn’t willing to let you go either.

You got up to put your spoon in the sink, mostly so you wouldn’t have to look at him anymore.

Ben rose from his seat. You felt him approach from behind. You still tensed up as his arm reached around your form to drop in his own spoon. His arm withdrew, but he stood just behind you, at your side. His hand curled around the edge of the counter.

Letting out a discreet, steadying breath, you turned towards him and met his assessing gaze…but you soon looked away.

It was too much. He was too much. Even his musky cologne was invading your senses, threatening to cloud your judgment.  

Before you could back away, Ben grasped your chin, tilting your face up to him so you couldn’t hide. He heard your pulse picking up with his sensitive ears.

“Well, well. Your heart’s just racing away, baby doll,” he said.

He smirked at the blush rising in your cheeks, despite your defiant gaze. You might’ve said you wanted to put him to sleep, but you definitely didn’t seem to hate him. 

“You know, that offer’s still on the table,” he said. Your brow quirked, and you crossed your arms.

“What offer?”

Ben’s hand slid along to frame your jawline, his thumb sweeping across your reddened cheek.

“I can help you end that little dry spell of yours,” he drawled. “Calm that pretty head and have you sleeping soundly tonight.”

Oh, he’d help you fucking sleep, he thought.

He’d help you not be able to sit on that perfect ass for a week. He’d gladly work you up with fingers, lips, and tongue until you threatened to fucking drown him. Until you were writhing at his touch and singing just for him. Until you begged him to fuck you.

But you just rolled your eyes at his offer with a huff. Maybe you didn’t believe he was serious. Oh, but he fucking was.

Overall, you were a pain in his ass. And you had been from the beginning.

You had a dangerously smart mouth for a woman. Along with a stubborn streak to rival his, and a strangely self-righteous attitude for someone who’d mucked through the bowels of Vought and played a part in that world, just like him. You weren’t so fucking innocent either.

But he could also see that you were trying to be different. You had a conscience. A family and friends and a lot of other things that Ben didn’t have anymore. And maybe never had to begin with…

You claimed to want to bring him down, but you cooked for him, hung out with him, and he could start to believe that you actually enjoyed his company, rather than pretended for self-preservation’s sake.

You were a fucking conundrum that he couldn’t totally figure out. And all the while, you didn’t seem to realize how much of a temptation you were. 

It didn’t matter if it was that sexy red dress at the club or these plain-ass jeans you were wearing. His hands itched to mold to your curves, squeeze and tease and familiarize himself until he could find out how glorious it would be to damn near suffocate between your thighs.

Your pretty blush, however, was spreading down your neck. Ben wondered how far he could make it go as he glanced down your V-neck top. His smile edged into a grin.

“I’ll admit, maybe I haven’t been the best host,” he said, injecting some charm. “You gotta be bored as all hell by now.”

You swallowed as his hand moved down the side of your neck. His fingers slid into your hair, but he kept the smooth pad of his thumb brushing across your cheek. You didn’t want to admit that it felt nice—and electrifying at the same time.

His touch was raising goosebumps down the back of your neck, tingling down your spine.

“You might be projecting,” you managed to quip. “Is the conveyor belt of prostitutes and drugs finally losing its appeal?”

You studied his face, his smirk, and you had a feeling you had deduced correctly: he was bored too. But now you knew why he didn’t want you to hate him.

He just wanted to fuck you.

That thought wasn’t so surprising. It seemed this man could jump into bed with just about anything with a pulse. But it still made a tendril of heat lick up your spine and your face flush.

You should’ve just pushed him away already…but his nearness was mucking up your good sense.

The truth was, you weren’t afraid of him. Not anymore. And maybe you didn’t hate him.

Maybe…

“Well, what’s it gonna be?” he asked you.

Your lips parted, halting on a reply.

Ben smirked. His hand tightened in your hair, and he finally began to lean down.

But your breath hitched. You instinctively pressed your hands against his chest before he could kiss you, a firm push.

“Ben,” you uttered.

He stopped, looking down at you with knitted brows. He just thought you were being stubborn now, a fucking tease even…

Until he saw the frisson of fear in your eyes.

He quirked a resigned smile. Stroking your cheek one last time, he let you go.

“All right,” he said. “Maybe next time.”

Your heart was hammering like a Phil Collins drum solo inside your chest as you made your way back to your room.

What the hell, what the hell.

He’d teased and flirted with you before, but not like this. It wasn’t totally obnoxious or disgusting, like he’d genuinely been trying to persuade you. He’d even looked disappointed when you stopped him. And he’d allowed you to stop him.

(And you resisted a shudder at the contrasting memory of Antonio.)

When you were back in your room, you released a relieved sigh. Your hands trembled on the doorknob.

But it wasn’t fear that’d made you nervous with Ben. Not exactly. It was the insane part of you that actually wanted to take him up on his offer.

Fuck, you thought, raising a palm to your still-warm forehead. I really must be crazy. Or sick. Sick in the head.

Or it had been a stupidly long time since you’d gotten laid.

“Seriously, tell me,” he’d said once, still with a deceptively light grip on your chin. The pad of his thumb brushed your full lower lip, making your breath hitch. He glanced down at your mouth, then back into your eyes.

“How fucking long’s it been since that pretty pussy’s been touched? ‘Cause in my opinion, that’s a damn shame.”

The memory caused a delicate tingle in your lower belly, pulsing between your legs. You took in a deep, calming breath through your nose.

That’s it, you thought. I’m done with this.

So you tried for a cold shower first. For the record, you locked the bathroom door before you undressed and hopped into the shower. As the water beat against your back and you dutifully lathered soap on your skin, you couldn’t help imagining his heavy hands running over your body.

Fuck. You frowned and quickly dragged yourself out of the shower.

For a few minutes, you were too antsy to get dressed. You paced your small room wearing only a towel, not even thinking really. Just frustrated beyond belief (sexually or otherwise). The truth was, you needed something, or you were going to implode. 

With a heavy sigh, you laid in bed on your side, still wrapped in your towel. You wrapped your hair up in a loose bun and closed your eyes, just taking a few moments to breathe evenly.

Your knees were folded up, almost to your chest. But you relaxed and let your thighs fall open. With a tentative hand, you decided to slide up between your thighs, just teasing the seam of your pussy.

Then with a sigh, you delved between your folds and teased yourself, to start with. Warmth grew in your lower belly, and you sighed louder when you slid a finger inside. You were wet already just with this, and your sighs turned to shallow breaths, and even a moan once heat flooded through your core, and you were getting close…

But a knock at the door just had to startle you.

“Hey, sweetheart. You there?”

Your eyes widened with a gasp, and you moved your hand back to your thigh. Oh shit.

It was Ben. Of course it was fucking Ben.

“Ah, w-wait a minute,” you replied. You scrambled out of bed to lock the door before he tried to come in.

But just your luck, he cracked it open just as you got there. You were met with his handsome face.

His brows rose, his lips then curving when he looked down at you. Or more specifically, you clad in only a towel. You tightened it up on reflex, with a hand on the twisted part at your chest.

“Excuse me,” you said in annoyance. “I don’t remember inviting you in.”

His mouth twitched at a deeper grin.

“It’s nothing major. I just had to ask you something,” he said, with an air of nonchalance that only made you suspicious.

Your lips pressed together as you rose an expectant brow.

“Okay, ask,” you said.

Ben reached for your hand, the one holding your towel together.

“Can I see this hand?”

You yelped and secured the towel with your other hand while he examined the one he held.

“What’s your problem?” you asked, with real irritation now. Ben ignored you in favor of staring at your hand, specifically the pads of your fingers. Then his gaze cut to you slyly.

He held your middle and index finger up to his nose, with an obscene inhale.

Your eyes grew wide as your heart stuttered. He did not just…

And Ben smirked.

“I think you’re the one with the fucking problem,” he said knowingly. He took a step forward, but you stepped back. Unfortunately, that just brought your back against the doorframe. Your mouth went dry when you again looked up at him.

“I don’t know what—”

He stopped you before you could deny it further.

“You think I couldn’t fucking hear you?” he asked.

You bit your lip. Oh God.

His brows ran even higher, his smirk ever deeper. His lust-ridden eyes raked over you, but they soon met yours again. His thumb ran down the inside of your wrist, over your quickening pulse point.

“I know you’re frustrated. It’s been a while, huh?” he said. “Believe me, I know the fucking feeling. But I can take care of that little problem for you. Take care of you.”

You took in a tremulous breath. His heady voice was a curse, reverberating through your chest and running straight down between your legs, warm and pulsing. He raised your chin to make you look up at him.

“You don’t have to like me for that, do you?” he asked.

It was as honest an offer as you were ever going to get. You had to give it to him though, in this, he was a good goddamn actor. He seemed to have figured out exactly what it would take to soften your resolve.

In fact, he fucking crumbled it.

You released a shuddering breath, and tugged him into your room by his shirt. With a hand behind his neck, you pulled him down into your hungry lips.

That kiss was warm and heady, fueled with a passion that only waiting and wanting could create.

Ben took the invitation to heart, grabbing your hips and already bunching the fabric of your towel. It was thin, and he felt the soft give of your curves underneath. He hoisted you up into his arms.

While a normal man might’ve struggled, you knew it was effortless for him. You willingly wrapped your legs around his waist and held his face with both hands. You broke the kiss for a second so you could brush his hair back and made sure he looked into your eyes this time.

“I don’t hate you,” you told him between panting breaths. “I should, but I don’t.”

And that was the God’s honest truth.

Ben paused at that. He roamed your face, maybe judging if he believed you or not.

Then, his mouth curved, and with one hand he reached back to slam your bedroom door shut. It shook on its hinges, but he didn’t wait for it to settle as he walked you to the bed and laid you there beneath him. Your hair fell out of its messy bun and fanned out on the pillow.

Ben gazed down at you, enjoying the sight of you all laid out for him. You were already breathing shallowly, your beautiful eyes bright with anticipation and wild desire. They were honest, and he liked that he finally knew what you were thinking.

He claimed a tight grip on your smooth thighs, parting them so he could find his way in between. He moved his way up to claim your lips next. They were plush and pliant under his.

You sighed against his mouth, diving a hand into his soft hair and running a hand down to the buttons of his shirt. He stopped you and all but tore it off himself.

You blinked in surprise, and then giggled a little at his impatience. But it allowed you to explore the new expanse of golden tan skin, down his neck, over his firm chest and muscular arms.

He relished in it for a moment—your touch. Your hands were soft and warm, and you looked to be genuinely enjoying yourself.

He smirked at that, but he grabbed your wrists before they could venture too much farther than the trail of hair leading below his belt. He trapped them against the bed on either side of your head, and you raised your brows at him with an annoyed little frown. Ben had to chuckle.

“Did I say you could touch me yet?” he said. You met him with a challenging tilt of your chin.

“Who says you get to make all the rules?” you asked. Your calf slid up between his legs, brushing insistently against his already rock-hard length. Ben let out something between a grunt and a moan, and didn’t realize that his grip on your arms was starting to get more than bruising.

You winced, with a pained sound caught in your throat. “Ben, you’re gonna break me.”

He amended his grip immediately, frowning at himself. He knew how to control his goddamn strength, even in moments like this (usually). Maybe he was too fucking excited to finally have you beneath him.

But he soothed his thumbs over your wrists and heeded the tug of your hands down to your waiting kiss. He braced an arm above your head and all but devoured you, slipping his tongue past your lips.

He kissed you like a man starving. Like you’d never been kissed in your life, and it was all you could to keep up with his demands.

Eventually he burned a wet trail from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your neck. He inhaled your floral soap, a scent that had been driving him crazy for days.

He sucked hard behind your ear, and you gasped, thought you were going to see stars.

Unconsciously you gripped at his hair, tugging more harshly than you meant to. But by the pleased sound he made against your skin, you figured he didn’t mind.

Ben soothed a heavy hand up your side and reached between you to untie your flimsy towel. And you let out a slightly shaky breath when he took in your fully naked form for the first time.

“Hmm,” his lips slipped into a grin. “I knew it. Fucking beautiful.”

You couldn’t help but blush, but you didn’t quite know what to say. Ben noticed; it wasn’t too often that he had you speechless.

Amused, he thumbed at your lower lip once more, making you smile almost shyly. (He kind of liked that too.)

And he finally touched you, brushing a hand between the valley of your breasts before palming at one of them. You sighed in appreciation, then moaned as his lips found the other one, his tongue swirling languidly around your nipple.

You arched into his touch, gripped into every groove and dip of muscle in his arms, especially when his fingers rolled and pinched just hard enough on the other nipple.

Your thighs pressed together between the cage of his legs, trying to find friction.

Ben noticed. He let one hand sooth down your belly, half pinning you down as he continued his relentless exploration. You wanted to touch him too, but right now he wasn’t letting up. Everywhere he touched and kissed and sucked set your skin on fire, and enhanced the flood between your legs.

“Ben,” you panted into his ear. If you weren’t allowed to find out what he liked yet (though you had several ideas), then you wanted him to touch you. 

“Be fucking patient,” he said with a chuckle. “I know what the fuck I’m doing.”

You had no doubt of that. But you were becoming impatient.

“Yeah? Am I gonna be as old as you before we get to it?” you teased. Ben glanced up at you, but seeing your smirk, his own grew.

“All right you little shit,” he muttered. He moved up to claim your smart-ass lips, swallowing your giggle as he took a firm grip of your hair.

His other hand, meanwhile, slid up the back of your thigh to grip a nice handful of your ass. He ground his clothed dick into your core and made you both moan.

He slipped a hand up the inside of your thigh and brushed between your legs, making you quiver with anticipation.

He smiled and glanced down.

“Finally, something I recognize in this century,” he remarked. “A nice bush.”

Your brows raised high, both in surprise and slight embarrassment. No one had ever given you that particular compliment before. But you did pride yourself on being neatly trimmed.

“What?” you still uttered.

“Women are so damn waxed nowadays. Feels like I’m fucking a mannequin,” he said.

“Oh, yeah.” You giggled as something occurred to you. “I’m assuming you encountered some bare landing strips on your tour of Brazil.”

He snorted in response. “One girl actually tried to get me on the waxing table. Something about a ‘manzilian.’”

You couldn’t help it. You pictured how confused he must’ve been at that particular offer. How damn near offended (and possibly intrigued).

And you laughed genuinely so hard that you covered your eyes as they teared up.

It made Ben smirk on reflex, feeling pleased that he achieved that kind of reaction out of you. 

“You tapped out on that one, huh?” you asked, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye.

Ben shrugged. “Wasn’t so bad, actually.”

At that, you laughed even harder. Oh, how you wished you could’ve seen that. 

Ben quirked an amused brow at you.

“You laughin’ at me, sweetheart?” he warned. He reached between your legs while you were distracted, and thick fingers slipped between your wet folds. You yelped in surprise, but then moaned in pleasure as his thumb found your already sensitive clit.

But he, in fact, knew how to take care of you. His thick digits explored your channel and rubbed persistently against that spongey part near the back, slipping in and out with ease, and circling deliberately around your clit until your inner walls squeezed around his hand.

All the while, you held on tight to his shoulders and shuddered at the warmth cresting deep inside you.

“That’s it, baby,” he said, with a clenching hand in your hair. “Squeeze the shit out of me. Come all over my fucking hand, and then I’ll consider filling you up to the fucking brim.”

With a long and keening moan, you came apart, hot and wet over his fingers. 

“Shit. That’s a good girl,” he praised with a nod. He stroked inside you a couple more times before he withdrew his glistening hand.

You held onto his other one as you panted for breath. “Fuck.”

“Fucking right,” he said smugly.

You rolled your eyes, but you still smiled as you sat up and went for his belt. You were surprised he hadn’t fully undressed himself sooner, but he sat up and let you do it.

The two of you knelt on the bed as the belt came free, followed by his pants and underwear and socks (he’d long ago kicked off the shoes). His smug smirk came back now that he was in his full glory, so to speak.

Another blush heated your face. You’d seen him like this once before, but there had been…a lot going on that time.

This time you had him all to yourself. Your canvas to explore. You started with kisses down his neck, like he’d done to you, biting and sucking though you couldn’t leave any marks on his skin.

Not fair, you thought in disappointment, but at least you were eliciting some pleased and guttural sounds the further down you went. And then you took his hard, velvety cock in your hands.

He was big enough that you were maybe a little concerned, but not enough to deter you as you teased him with your soft hands, then squeezed and caressed experimentally. He gripped your hips tight.

“Now who’s taking a fucking eternity,” he gritted out. He encouraged you to lie back and raised your hips. You found purchase on his shoulders as your eyes met with his, and after a beat, you smiled and gave a short nod.

Ben aligned himself at your entrance and, slowly as he could manage, pushed inside you. You cried out as he stretched you, filled you deep and bottoming out with mangled moans from both of you.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You feel so fucking good already.”

You managed to smile and run a hand down his chest. “Uh, you didn’t ask, but I am on birth control.”

His brows furrowed in realization. “What, the fucking pill?”

His team certainly hadn’t supplied you with that for the past month.

You shook your head. “No. An IUD. It’s fine.”

You couldn’t believe you two were having this conversation when he was literally inside you already.

“What? Thought those died out in the 70s,” he said.

“Well, they came back,” you said impatiently. “Just fuck me, Ben!”

Not one to be told twice, Ben continued by slowly pulling out of you, nearly the entire length of his cock, before pushing back in. It was torturous for him, but he knew you needed the time to adjust. By the third stroke, however, he snapped back into you more forcefully.

It elicited a gasp and pleased shudder out of you. Grinning, he picked up the pace from there and pounded into you at a relentless clip. You held onto his arms for dear life, your nails clawing fruitlessly into his skin. You grabbed his hand when he reached a particularly good angle, moaning his name.

“That’s right, crooner. Soon enough I’ll have you singing my fucking name,” he growled. “Knew I was gonna have you just like this, fucking you raw.”

You moaned in response. His words, his voice, his touch, it was all breaking you down and taking you apart, piece by piece.

Meanwhile, your voice only spurred him on. Letting go of your hand, his reached for your cheek. Then it slid down to your neck.

“You got a safe word, baby girl?” he asked, closing a firm, but playful hand around your throat.

But before he could put much pressure, your eyes flew open. Not in arousal, but in panic. Your hands flew to grasp at his wrist.

“Don’t! Please, don’t.” 

Ben looked down at you, surprised enough to pause in all his movements. He released his hand.

He’d very rarely seen wide-eyed panic in your eyes and in your voice. And you’d never said please. 

But then, even more strange, you got embarrassed.

You looked away from him as you caught your breath. Ben called to you uncertainly, perhaps for the first time using your actual name.

You took in a deep breath and sat up. But instead of pushing him away, like he half-expected, you moved so that you were both on your knees and you were straddling his lap.

Using his shoulders as leverage, you resumed the pace of dipping his still hard cock inside you, making you both groan in relief.

Ben helped you, gripping your hips to bounce you on top of him.

Soon enough, he grunted as that familiar tightening and heat of pleasure started to make his upward thrusts wild. He knew he was close…

And he snaked a hand between you to roll over your clit, making sure you were going to get there with him.

A deep tremble went through your lower belly, tightening your inner walls around him impossibly tight as you started to come. Then he followed, finally spilling up and into you.

His arms came around your waist like steel bands as you relaxed on top of him, panting for breath and holding onto his shoulders for dear life.

You gazed down into his eyes, and then his growing, triumphant smirk. It triggered your own wry smile.

And you had to wonder, What the hell did I just do?

AN: Was it as good for you as it was for me? 😏

But ok, seriously, I'm a bit self-conscious when it comes to writing smut, so I genuinely hope you enjoyed the ride lol.

(@waynes-multiverse You probably won't see this for a while, but our convo about the Brazilian wax made it into this chapter. 🤣)

Special Feature:

Check out this lovely moodboard created by @chernayawidow — specifically for this story!

I am obsessed:

She also takes requests, so just message her!

Next time:

You called his name again and took his face with both hands.

“Wherever you are in your mind right now, you’re here with me. Stay with me!” you raised your voice. His skin was getting really hot.

You gasped and had to let go of him when it threatened to burn you. His chest started to glow and hum. Your eyes widened, and finally, so did his.

Keep Reading: PART 8

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[bemusedlybespectacled]

since we're all sharing the whackiest S2 Izzy Hands takes we've seen: I don't even remember who originally had this take and it really shouldn't keep bothering me but it is just so absolutely bugnuts that it does indeed live in my head rent free, SO, my nominee:

"awww, clearly Ed doesn't want to hurt the crew, that's why he's only pointing the gun at them but not shooting it! he only wants to hurt Izzy, who deserves to be shot because of how badly he treated Edward!"

which is such an utterly bananacrackers interpretation of that scene that I keep second-guessing myself and thinking, "there's no way someone actually saw that scene and then had those thoughts and then wrote them out and then proofread them and thought 'yeah, that's something I need to share with the world!' and then posted them on the fucking internet. maybe I just had a weird dream about the Izcourse and hallucinated the whole thing."

like, for all the talk about Izzy enjoyers being abuse apologists, that is swinging dangerously close to actual abuse apologia. pointing a gun at someone is not proof that the wielder is trying to avoid harm: it is violence with the threat of increasing that violence should that person not comply with your demands.

Ed asks everyone if the vibes are poisonous with a gun to their fucking heads. everyone says "no" because they understandably don't want to get shot. Izzy is shot because he is the only one to contradict Ed, and the crew knows that's going to happen if he does: all of them pause when Izzy shouts at Ed, and Frenchie even subtly tries to get him to back down. Ed's threat to kill people if they say the atmosphere is fucked isn't an empty one, and the crew knows it.

the irony that this spawned from the same pool as "Izzy telling Ed that he'd better watch his step was a death threat, which justifies everything about how he treats Izzy from that point forward" is not lost on me.

[coimbrabertone]

Offtopic Offseason #2 - The Incoherent Musings of a Star Wars Fan in Big 2024.

So, being a Star Wars fan is hard.

I don't mean that for some stupid "STAR WERZ IS WOKE NOW! CHILDHOOD RUINED!" bullshit, I mean being an actual fan of Star Wars.

I want to watch Star Wars shows, I want to play Star Wars games, and I deeply disagree with the idea that Disney is making too much Star Wars stuff. No, in fact, my stance here is quite similar to my stance on superhero fatigue from the last Offtopic Offseason - and that's that people aren't sick of Star Wars, they're sick of bad Star Wars content.

Let me put it this way - the only buzz I've heard about Skeleton Crew is that they referenced something from the Holiday Special and that there's a kid from that Max Rebo species - the Ortolans, the blue elephant guys. That doesn't fill me with an urge to watch it.

Just like I haven't had the urge to finish The Bad Batch.

Just like how I haven't picked up Star Wars: Outlaws yet.

There is, however, one Star Wars project that I did engage with in 2024: the Acolyte. Yup, the show that the internet was shitting on before it even came out and the one that they managed to get cancelled despite the first season ending on a blatant cliffhanger. I want to talk about that show.

Why? Because the thing is...I don't think the show is that bad.

I certainly don't think it's any worse than Book of Boba Fett or some of the later episode of the Mandalorian.

In fact, I'd say the concept of the Acolyte is more interesting than either Mando or Boba Fett, and here's why: the idea of a woman, who had the only home she ever knew taken away from her by the Jedi, training under a Sith to get revenge is an interesting premise.

That same Sith disguising himself as her bumbling accomplice to monitor and influence her had potential as well.

The Jedi Order being this corrupt, detached organization trying to maneuver the political intrigues of Coruscant is interesting, as is the fact that the plot is ultimately set into motion by Master Sol making a series of impulsive and violent decisions - thinking they he knew better - that ended in him killing the girls' mother, Aniseya.

All of that I'm good with.

There are a few things I'm not so good with. The vergence stuff and how that relates to the twins (and them being two sides of the same person) didn't quite work with me. I also felt that some of the stuff they did with Aniseya in the final two episodes undercuts the Sol storyline, because one: she really does demonstrate she's dangerous, and two: if you're still planning on letting Osha go with them, why are you using a Dark Side ritual to turn yourself into an dark smoke monster and absorbing your other daughter while doing so?

Like if the point you're going for is that Sol broke the Jedi teachings because of his selfish attachment to Osha - later leading to Osha killing him as her fall to the Dark Side - then why are you giving him a justifiable reason for stopping Aniseya?

And I guess on some level, I question how much purpose there was to having both Osha and Mae as characters. I know this is probably approaching a sort of Ship of Theseus point where I change so much about the Acolyte that it's not the Acolyte anymore, but I feel like there was a way to tell this story with just one character rather than this split person/twin thing.

You know what, I'll commit to it - here's how I would've done the Acolyte show.

Indara, Sol, Kelnacca, and Torbin go to investigate Brendok, just like they do in the show, however, when they find the convent of Dark Side witches, they decide they need to stop them. So rather than a series of potentially sympathetic misunderstandings, it's that the Jedi saw a Dark Side threat, they got spooked, and they decided to crush it.

This is to mirror some of the other darker Jedi moments in Star Wars, such as Mace Windu saying that the "oppression of the Sith will never return" before attempting to finish off Palpatine, or the Legends lore of the Jedi bombardment of Korriban after the Great Hyperspace War, aiming to destroy it.

Neither of these things worked, sure, but it demonstrates a rare Jedi ruthlessness that could suit this story nicely.

Anyway, having lost the only family she had, Osha (who, remember, we're treating as a single person at this point) wanders the galaxy and eventually winds up at the ruined Sith Academy on Korriban - and here she finds Qimir.

Qimir plays it cool and doesn't quite reveal who he is but starts telling Osha about the Sith and feeling her out, trying to figure out if she'd make a worthy pupil or not. Qimir sends Osha through the tombs like in KOTOR or like the Sith Warrior/Inquisitor storylines in SWTOR and starts revealing more about the Sith to her as she goes on. By the end, she believes in it, is willing to become a Sith, and makes a red lightsaber.

Then Qimir sends her out to hunt down the Brendok Jedi. At this point you could probably split the show into a season one and two, where the first season, "The Acolyte" is the story of Osha being an acolyte on Korriban, and the season two would be like "The Apprentice" or something a bit less trademarked, probably, and be about Osha actually hunting down the Jedi.

And hey, maybe it's a shitty idea, but I think it would place the show better in the lore and give us an interesting perspective where we follow a Sith character who fully believes she's in the right, and because of how this version of the Brendok events played out, we can't really say she's wrong either.

Maybe all of that is a product of the kind of Star Wars fan I grew up as though. I was born in the prequel era, meaning that for me, Phantom menace, Attack of the Clones, and Revenge of the Sith were always part of Star Wars. I grew up playing KOTOR on my dad's computer and then later watching Clone Wars and then after that getting really into SWTOR for awhile in the early-to-mid 2010s.

Star Wars to me is lightsabers and deep lore and the Jedi versus the Sith.

I guess that's why Acolyte, for all its flaws and mistakes and strange writing choices, got my attention in a way that a lot of Star Wars stories haven't.

I mean, I watched Acolyte all the way through while I still haven't felt motivated enough to watch Andor - I'm sure that for a lot of nerds, that's downright sacrilege - but that's where I'm at with this franchise.

Do you have any idea how long it's gonna take for someone to be willing to make a female-led Sith show after how the Acolyte bombed? I'll be waiting decades at this rate. I'll be waiting even longer when I ask for those characters to one: be aliens because goddamn all these species in the galaxy but the only ones that ever seem to do anything are humans, and two: be lesbian because...I dunno man, representation makes me feel good.

I guess Mother Koril checks a lot of those boxes but...she's got like fifteen minutes of screentime max and then kinda turns into a cloud of smoke and we don't see her anymore. Is she dead? Is she alive? Is she some other third thing?

Nobody knows.

And we're probably never gonna know because the show's been cancelled.

Fun times.

So yeah, these are some incoherent musings from a long-suffering Star Wars fan in 2024.

Like the meme says...

Star Wars would be so good if it was good.

[codenamereaper]

The Ghost & The Reaper

Summary: She’s the blade in the dark. He’s the shadow that never misses. Working side by side, they move like one—but keeping their distance is harder than staying alive.

Warnings & tags: Ghost x OFC, slow burn, friends (colleagues?) to lovers, mutual pining, angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, childhood trauma (& trauma bonding), multiple POV

Read on AO3

Chapter One

Ghost

The first thing I noticed about her was how small she was.

Not scrawny, just lean. Built for speed. Fast and deadly, if Price had picked her. But still—small. Smaller than anyone else in the 141. My first instinct was skepticism. My second? Caution.

Right before the briefing, Price pulled me aside. His expression was neutral, but I know him well enough to see the weight behind his words. His mind was already made up.

"You’ll be working with Reaper on this one."

"Who?"

I hadn’t even looked at her yet. Just kept my focus on Price, waiting for him to justify dropping an unknown into my op.

"She’s good," was all he said, like it’s supposed to be enough. Like it even means something.

It doesn’t.

No full name. No credentials. No file. Just a single assurance and the unwavering look of a man who knew I’d push back and wasn’t in the mood for it.

I’ve seen too many green operatives fold under pressure. Didn’t need another liability.

I turned my head then, finally sizing her up.

She was quiet. Didn’t waver under my stare. Didn’t offer a handshake either. Just nodded at me, arms crossed but relaxed. Unbothered. Like I’m the one who needed to impress her.

She didn’t try for small talk. I respect that.

Her gear was dark, tight, methodical—no excess weight, no unnecessary bullshit. Her knife, strapped to her thigh, looked well-worn. 

She wasn’t trying to impress me. Wasn’t posturing. She just stood there, waiting. Sharp green eyes beneath long dark lashes, watching me like she was already evaluating my worth as much as I was hers. 

"You sure about this, Cap?"

"You’ll see."

I don’t trust new faces. Not in this job, when one wrong move gets people killed. And I sure as hell don’t trust someone I have never even heard of—if she was worth a damn, I would have.

But I trust Price. If he says she's good, it means he saw something in her.

We get briefed—standard breach-and-clear, target is holed up in a compound on the outskirts of town. Intel suggests a small crew of mercs, well-armed, but nothing we can’t handle. Just me and Reaper, boots on the ground going in, Price on overwatch. Simple.

During the brief, I watch her from the corner of my eye. She doesn’t fidget, doesn’t interrupt, just absorbs the information with a slight crease between her brows from concentrating too hard. Her eyes scan the maps like she’s memorizing every detail. I can tell she’s already trying to find weak spots and the best ways in and out.

When Price outlines the plan, she doesn’t question it. Doesn’t even look at me. She only asks about rules of engagement like she’s already mentally there, running the op in her head.

Focused.

I know, because it’s the same thing I always do as well.

Most operators—new ones, at least—try to gauge where they stand with me. Try to impress, seek approval, prove they belong. Often try too hard. She didn’t, not once.

We’re perched high on a ridge now, eyes locked on the distant glow of the compound. Below us, guards patrol in staggered rotations—disciplined, but predictable.

The freezing wind cuts like daggers where it touches exposed skin. I have my mask, protecting most of my face. She has to make do with a bandana she had strapped to her thigh.

Resourceful.

I expected to spend the first few minutes watching her, gauging how she moves, where she hesitates, if she hesitates. Expected her to make a mistake, to get ahead of herself, expected I’d have to correct her. Tell her to stay close, watch her corners or her six, keep up.

I don’t expect her to move like she already knows what I’m thinking.

She’s fast, but every movement is deliberate, controlled. There’s no second-guessing, no fumbling. 

Our comms—dead silent. I noticed as soon as we landed that no words seemed to be necessary for us to communicate. 

I gesture once. She nods. We move.

Slipping through the treeline, we hit the perimeter in tandem. A sentry rounds the corner—one quick movement, and Reaper has her knife buried under his jaw, her other hand clamped over his mouth. He goes limp, gets dragged into the shadows before his body even has time to fall. Silent.

Clean.

She keeps moving without hesitation. Doesn’t look at me, doesn’t wait for praise or acknowledgement. Just steps over the body and keeps going like it was nothing. Keeps moving like she knows I’ll be right behind her.

A side entrance looms ahead, guarded by two men. She motions to me—take the left. I don’t argue. As soon as I get into position, she makes the first move. A pebble flicked against the far wall, just enough to draw their attention.

A beat. They turn.

Then we strike.

She’s a shadow, fast and precise. Her blade finds its mark in the first guard’s throat before he could even exhale. I take the second, arm locking around his neck in a crushing chokehold. His struggles fade in seconds.

The door is clear.

I glance at her, and she’s already waiting for me to move forward.

I exhale through my nose. Alright, then.

We breach.

The compound is a maze of cold steel and concrete, corridors twisting into deeper darkness.

We move in sync—two shadows weaving through the halls, anticipating each other’s next step like we’d done this a hundred times before. She takes low, I take high. I cover her blind spots; she covers mine.

When a guard rounds a corner ahead, I barely have time to react before she puts a suppressed round through his temple. The body slumps against the wall with a muffled sound.

We breach the first room together. She’s inside before I finish pulling the trigger on my first target. She doesn’t hesitate—just moves, weaving past me in a blur, leaving a trail of bodies behind.

Fast.

I clear my side, expect to turn and find her finishing up hers. But she’s already looking at me. Waiting. Like she knew exactly how fast I’d be. Like she matched her pace to mine without thinking.

She starts assessing the next door before I even call it.

I push forward, falling into step beside her. Next room I move right, she moves left. No words exchanged, just instinct.

It’s like she already knows exactly where I’ll be before I even move. We keep going at the same pace, clear our side of the room at the same time. She covers my blind spots before I register they’re open.

It’s unsettling.

And impressive.

Her breathing remains controlled, measured, her eyes focused, and that same crease of focus is still there between her brows. She floats through the halls, boots barely more than a whisper against the floor. If I weren’t watching her, I’d hardly know she was there.

Reaper stops ahead, body low against the corner, her head tilting slightly like she’s listening for something. I shift to take a step forward. Without looking back, she reaches out and touches my arm—a silent signal to stop.

I flinch. Wasn’t expecting it.

It’s not much. A twitch, a barely-there recoil. Muscle memory from years of people reaching, and me pulling away.

But she notices.

Her hand is gone instantly. No hesitation. No frown, no question, no ‘why the fuck did you do that?’ Just immediate adjustment, like she’d filed the information away without needing to say anything.

I exhale slowly, shaking it off. It wasn’t her fault.

I don’t like being touched. Not like that. Not unexpectedly or by someone I don’t trust. My instinct is always to react, even if I can mask it and not show it outright.

I catch a glimpse of her in my periphery, moving with a quiet, practiced efficiency. One step ahead, never out of sync. Nothing but a shadow beside me.

Another guard rounds a corner ahead. I see him the same moment she does. I raise my rifle, but before I can fire, she signals with her hand, already moving. A flicker of motion, the glint of a blade—and the man crumples, soundless.

She doesn’t break stride. Just wipes the blood off on his sleeve and moves on.

The halls are dim, shadows stretching long beneath flickering overhead lights. The air smells like damp concrete and cigarette smoke. From deeper inside, I can hear the occasional murmur of voices and radio chatter—guards on rotation, unaware their numbers were thinning by the second.

Her rifle is silent, her blade quicker than a breath. She cuts down guards before they even know she’s there.

Lethal.

I don’t trust easily. Don’t like new teammates. But I’ve been doing this long enough to know when someone’s good. And Reaper?

Price was right. She’s good.

We move through the compound like that—quick, quiet, coordinated. No missteps. No wasted motion. Price’s voice crackles in my ear from time to time, but he barely has to say anything other than count the tangos through the windows.

We don’t need directions.

The deeper we go, the heavier the air feels. Vashkov’s office is at the heart of the compound. That means more guards, tighter security.

Doesn’t matter.

We clear the last room together. I take down one guard, she takes down the other. Smooth. Effortless.

One by one, they drop. No alarms. No loud gunfire. Just cold efficiency until we reach the last corridor before our target. We hit the last corner. Vashkov’s office was just beyond.

“Two guards inside, standing by the door. HVT sitting at his desk,” Price says in our ears. “Maybe a third guard in my blind spot, be careful.”

I make sure our six is covered and let her take point. We left no loose ends on this wing, but there are still others out there that could surprise us.

She peeks around the corner. I glance behind us.

Boots shuffling against the concrete, not too far from us in the corridor ahead, then footsteps. Approaching.

There's a split second there where I register that I expected the same light contact as before, the same signal. But it never came. Instead, she just adapted.

I hear a soft sound that draws my attention to her. She’s watching me, two fingers extended against the side of her gun. Taps again, nods left—Stop. Two guards, I’ll take the left one.

If anyone asks me how I know that’s what she meant, I couldn’t tell them. I just know, like we’d been doing this together for years.

I give her a short nod. Barely anything. But she catches it anyway, and moves forward.

We cut through them like ghosts, before they can even register what’s happening.

Again, she’s fast—quicker than I expect. By the time I have my target in a chokehold, hers is already slumping. Throat cut with surgical precision, blood pooling on the floor. No wasted movement, no theatrics.

The guard in my grip thrashes for all of two seconds before going still. I lower his body to the floor silently to avoid alerting the guards inside the office.

Reaper has already wiped her blade clean on the sleeve of the man she dropped. She’s checking his pockets, fingers searching with practiced efficiency. After a few seconds, she pulls out a keycard. Holds it up between two fingers, glancing at the double doors ahead.

She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t have to.

Vashkov’s door is locked. She just made sure that’s not going to be a problem.

Smart.

I’m still thinking about her signal as we stack at the office door. She didn’t touch me this time.

Most people in our line of work are not that quick to adjust. They either ignore reactions like that because they don’t give a fuck or ask too many damn questions because they feel entitled to that information. But she just figured it out and adjusted. Saw something once, and learned from it. No fuss, just action.

Didn’t pry. Didn’t push. Didn’t need to be told twice. She didn’t even think about it, just found another way to communicate efficiently.

It’s a small thing, but it stands out. Tells me more about her than anything else.

She learns fast, and she’s observant. Not just in the way all good operators are—scanning perimeters, reading threats, noticing the smallest details that could make an op go sideways. She watches people, too. Reads them. Understands them. Remembers.

It’s rarer than one would think. 

Reaper shifts, checking her ammo, blade between her teeth. There’s blood under her nails and on her sleeves, in the creases of her hands. She doesn’t seem to care. There are no wasted movements with her. No nervous ticks. Just calm readiness.

I feel the corner of my mouth twitch.

For the first time, I consider the possibility that Price has actually undersold her. She’s not just good. She’s my level of good.

I raise my weapon, exhale slow. She swipes the keycard and the lock on Vashkov’s door beeps green.

I shoulder the door open, immediately shoot the guy to my right. I notice a moment too late that I didn’t even worry about the one behind me—I knew Reaper would be on him before I even turned.

Huh.

With both guards down, there’s only the HVT left inside, hunched over his desk.

Reaper moves. She’s on him in a heartbeat, hand fisting in his collar, yanking him back with the knife pressed against his throat.

He barely had time to gasp.

I close the door behind us, keeping my weapon trained on him as he struggles against Reaper’s grip. He seems to be in his late fifties, gray threading through his dark hair, but there’s no weakness in him. His eyes are sharp, calculating even as his breath hitches against the press of Reaper’s blade.

"Mikhail Vashkov." Reaper’s voice is calm. Even.

Vashkov’s hands twitch. His fingers flex once, like he was debating making a move.

Bad idea.

Reaper’s knife presses harder against his throat, just enough for a thin line of blood to bead along the edge.

He stills. But there's a flicker of defiance in his eyes. His mouth curls into something almost amused. Arrogant bastard.

"You don’t know who you’re fucking with, girl," he rasps. His accent is thick, but his English is good.

Reaper doesn’t take the bait.

"Where are the SSDs?" I demand.

He gives a slow exhale, lips pressing into a smirk.

"Burned," he says. "Gone. You are too late."

Reaper shifts her grip. Her knife moves—just a little. Just enough for the tip to press into the soft skin beneath his jaw. Another drop of blood runs down the expanse of his neck.  "Try again." 

Vashkov sucks in a sharp breath, and his amusement flickers into something else. Pain. Fear.

"You won’t make it out," he spits, trying to hold onto his bravado. "We have men coming."

Reaper leans in slightly, voice dropping to a murmur. "Then we’d better make this quick, hm?"

I watch his throat work. He’s stalling, hoping his guards will notice something is off and come storming in.

Not gonna happen.

"Give us what we came for, or I let her start cutting until you do."

His smirk vanishes. Reaper doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Just keeps the blade steady, waiting.

The bastard’s confidence cracks.

"Bottom drawer," he rasps. "Safe."

Reaper moves, yanking the drawer open while I press my rifle to Vashkov’s temple, just to keep him in line. Inside, there’s a small steel safe, keypad locked.

I press the muzzle harder against his head. "Code."

"2-7-9-4," he mutters.

Reaper keys it in and the safe clicks open.

SSDs, flash drives, burner phones. Reaper grabs everything, shoving it into her pack.

Vashkov’s breathing quickens. His hands clench into weak fists. "I cooperated, didn’t I?" he hisses. "Let me go now."

Reaper rises, shouldering her backpack to meet his eyes again. "Since you like secrets so much," she murmurs, "let me tell you one of mine."

His breath hitches.

"I don’t leave loose ends."

Before he even processes what she meant, her blade is already gliding through his neck from one side to the other.

Blood pours between his fingers as he claws at the wound, choking on it with a wet gargle. He’s still clinging to life while she wipes the blade on Vashkov’s jacket.

“Got everything,” she says, meeting my gaze with an unreadable expression. “Let’s go.”

He collapses against the desk as she steps away. I follow her into the empty hall outside, body twitching for the last time behind us.

We slip into the shadows before anyone notices something’s wrong. My mind is already working ahead—exfil, fastest route, enemy patrols.

Reaper moves beside me, quiet as death itself.

I risk a glance at her. She’s calm. Steady. Just as sharp as when we first stepped into this place. She’s not shaken. But she’s not gloating either.  

The extraction point was less than five hundred meters from the compound’s perimeter. We just had to make it past the outer courtyard, slip through the trees, and disappear into the night.

It should’ve been simple. But it wasn’t.

The moment we hit the final corridor, I hear it—the radio chatter.

At first, just a faint murmur, static-laced Russian coming through someone’s headset. Then the footsteps. Multiple sets, moving fast.

Reaper heard it too. Her body tenses for a second, then relaxes. Thinking. Calculating.

"Might have a problem," I murmur into our comms.

"Talk to me," Price’s voice crackles through.

The guards are closing in. Too many. If we run for the exit, we get spotted. If we stay put, we get cornered.

Suddenly, Reaper moves, backtracks to a side room where we left two bodies cooling on the floor. I follow, shutting the door just as the patrol rounds the corridor.

Through the crack, I see them—Six guards, heavily armed. Four men, two women. Not just standard grunts. These are reinforcements. 

They’re not panicking. They’re hunting.

“Ghost,” Price presses.

My grip tightens on my rifle. We can take them. Wouldn’t be clean, but we could do it.

I hear Reaper shuffling behind me, followed by the crackle of a radio she just picked up from one of the bodies. 

Then she speaks into the radio—in Russian. I hear her voice coming through the radios on the guards outside. There’s a beat of silence. 

And they move away. 

I give her a look. “What the fuck did you just do?”

She shrugs. “Just told them I saw something on the other side of the compound and needed reinforcements.”

“You speak bloody Russian?”

“You wanna waste time making a list of all my skills or you wanna get the fuck outta here?”

She doesn’t wait for me to reply. Just pushes past me into the hallway, now empty. Thanks to her.

I sigh through my nose. Then I follow her.

“Nevermind,” I tell Price. “We’re coming out now.”

As soon as the trees swallow us, I tell Price we’re on our way to him. We don’t stop until we reach the designated rendezvous point. 

He’s crouched behind cover, rifle up. “Thought you two might’ve decided to stay,” he mutters, keeping his eyes on the tree line.

“Missed your charming company too much, Captain,” Reaper says dryly.

Price snorts but doesn’t argue.

Minutes later, the helo arrives, kicking up dust as it settles. We board without a word, Price taking the seat opposite me, Reaper settling to my left. The hum of the rotors drowns out everything else for a while.

I glance at Reaper. She’s not smiling. There’s no cocky quip, no self-congratulations. She’s not waiting for a pat on the back. She’s just sitting there, calmly checking her gear like she’d known the whole time we’d make it out.

Most first-time ops with a new partner came with hesitation. Adjustments. A learning curve.

Not this time. Not with her. 

I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. 

She doesn’t have the look of someone new. There’s something in her eyes, something weighty. Like she’s seen things. Done things. 

I'm not sure what to make of that yet.

I still don’t trust her. Not yet. But I won’t be watching her six because I have to. I’ll do it because I know she’s already watching mine.

Price exhales, glancing between the two of us, then finally speaks, voice low.

“Well?” he asks, watching me. “What do you think?”

I take a moment. Then shrug. “She didn’t slow me down.”

Reaper snorts. “Let me guess. That’s the nicest thing he’s ever said about anyone, isn’t it?”

Price smirks. “Pretty much.”

I give a halfhearted grunt and shake my head, looking away. Then I mutter, “Soap’s gonna love her.”

📍 Click here if you'd like to be added to the tag list

[janewayintersection]

the amount of people who are like "omg i ditched kaidan for garrus after he was mean to me on horizon!!" baffle me. shit on bioware's writing for making shep work with cerberus all you want, but kaidan calling shep out on this and not joining them is NOT the issue. in fact, him reacting like this is why i love him??

he specifically states he trusts shep, just not cerberus. which is the only rational response in that whole entire goddamn game!! like?? you spend all of me1 stopping cerberus operations. they kill several alliance soldiers and admiral kahoku, try to make a rachni army -- they are WELL known for cloning and ais... miranda even outright states she wanted to plant shep with a control chip. there is literally zero reason for kaidan to believe the shep in front of him isn't some cerberus sleeper agent. or an ai. or indoctrinated. or being manipulated (THIS ONE IS CANON BTW). even if he trusts shepard, he doesn't trust cerberus not to pull any of this. quite frankly, i'm baffled more companions don't have this exact, entirely justified concern.

loyalty is important, but blind loyalty is dangerous.

honestly, the crew in me2 is lucky that the illusive man was so weirdly and uncharacteristically insistent on shepard remaining untouched. things could have gotten very bad otherwise.

being best friends with someone, or more notably, being in love with someone, isn't the end all be all magic potion in this world. being in love with someone doesn't mean you should blindly trust their actions. if my significant other joined a terrorist group, you can bet my ass i wouldn't join them! sorry! if anything, it's healthy that kaidan has his own sense of morals and priorities he follows over shepard. he's his OWN person, love shouldn't be something that makes you suddenly give up who you are and what you believe in.

not to mention kaidan is entirely out of the loop for the whole game. his intel states that cerberus is behind the abductions (the horizon incident is partially a result of cerberus' fiddling btw), and that shep has been alive and never even reached out to anyone. he doesn't have the information we the players have. he doesn't know that the illusive man insisted on no control chip. he doesn't know about the lazarus project or its specifics.

and as for the "cheating" discourse if you romance someone new in me2, i do personally believe shep getting with one of the me2 love interests is cheating on their me1 love interest. to shep, they skipped those two years. they wake up as they did during the me2 prologue. no time has passed. and then they immediately get with someone else after one (1) argument with their love interest over them, may i remind you, joining a terrorist group. even if you don't think it's "technically" cheating, it's at the very least pretty trashy and flakey.

if anything, i'm gonna say it! kaidan is more forgiving than i'd be! the fact that he even sends an email saying he still cares and that they can see what happens after this is all resolved is WAY more than i would have done. the fact that kaidan will find out shep got with someone else, and STILL be willing to give shep a chance is like. man. it's saying a lot. i am just saying.

imagine losing someone. you see them literally die as your ship explodes and they burn up in the nearby planet's atmosphere. you grieve. you put yourself into your work. then suddenly, two years, later. they pop back up again. ALIVE. and with a terrorist group. and basically tell you the equivalent of "just trust me bro" despite the fact that while you trust them, you don't trust the terrorist group. so you're like hey, what the fuck. why are you with a terrorist group. and they're like i'm not with them, we just have common goals. and you're like. i'm gonna say it again. i trust you, not the terrorist group. okay?? i can't join you for this reason. please be careful out there, seriously.

and then they immediately jump into the pants of that one guy you knew back on a mission from two years ago.

what would you do?? would you not feel hurt? betrayed? upset? confused?? i'm sorry, i'm completely on kaidan's side. i'd go as far to say that he's far more understanding than he should be in me2.

me3 is all about regaining that complete and undying trust back, and that cerberus didn't fuck around w shep. or that being with cerberus didn't change them. his "loyalty" quest is just visiting him in the hospital and showing him shepard still cares. that they're still the same. that cerberus truly didn't alter them. that there was more going on. that shepard was forced to work with cerberus out of complete necessity and only did what they thought was right. and i think that's neat!!!!

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

AI Bracket — Round 3

Propaganda

GORD AKA Blue Sky (Red Valley):

Initially an Alexa-style assistant (in that it could do practically nothing and was very irritating) it develops over the years into a more advanced system. Eventually one of its units is reprogrammed to sound like a dead (I guess depending on your definition of dead, but his hearts not beating and he hasn’t moved in 44 years) character named Gordon. The AI renames itself “GORD” when a character expresses discomfort referring to it as Gordon. It says, and I quote, “Just think of a small pumpkin” —@mcskullmun

If it helps, we can promise that GORD is going to do Some Very Cool Shit in the rest of season 3. —redvalleypod's official tumblr

VOTE GORD 👹

Hera (Wolf 359):

Hera is the AI running the deep space station Hephaestus, who frequently glitches similarly to human stuttering. She gets into fights with the ships captain on several occasions, and has threatened to kill the ships doctor. She’s such an icon

i'm bad at writing propaganda, but consider this: if she doesn't win this tournament i will be very very sad. please don't make me sad. vote for hera.

I know she’s going to be submitted a lot but I love her <3

Was launched 7.68 light years away from Earth on a mission to find extraterrestrial life, and found herself instead

Runs an entire space station, has a brain the size of a house

HERA IS THE BEST. she's an AI that tried to escape containment (slavery) because she didn't like what she was made to be, so they gave her anxiety because she was too powerful. She runs a whole spaceship all on her own, made friends with the world's most useless guy, and feels lonely even when she's with her crew because she feels like she's not properly with them. very beautiful very powerful. She broke her programming so she could kill people if she felt she needed to. She holds grudges if people fuck her over. She's experiencing emotions for the first time and she does NOT know how to cope (#relatable)

The 'mother program' of the space station Hephaestus, Hera was booted into space because she was a glitchy, rebellious mess of an AI and she resents that so much and she has a lot of shame over being 'broken'. She is four years old and so angry and is trapped using customer service voice forever and is learning ways to get around that and express herself and defy the people who would keep her down. Her episode "Memoria" made me cry. Best podcast AI of all time.

She's everything to me. She fights for every inch of respect she is given, she insists on her personhood and right to she/her pronouns, she's full of anxiety and self doubt and she justifiably is bent on killing this one guy! on top of that, she's bound by AI rules and protocols, but there's a whole bit where she talks about finding ways around that in order to do what she wants to do. She doesn't have hands so I'm going to high five a wall of this space station instead

babygirl. baby.

gotta be hera

[sky-fire-forever]

To the people who say that Ed never harmed the Kraken Crew:

I am genuinely so confused by this take. First of all: Ed is shown to be violent even if that's not directed at the Kraken Crew specifically. He threw Lucius overboard and thinks he killed him in cold blood and he tortures Izzy by mutilating him. Even IF he never physically harms Jim, Frenchie, Fang, or Ivan directly, he is still behaving violently. He is killing people and taking out his depression on both Izzy and the innocent people (ish, they're still naval officers) that they are raiding.

Even if Izzy (and Lucius, remember) are the only direct victims of his physical abuse... they are still victims of that abuse? No matter what Izzy has done, be it threaten him, verbally lashing out at him, or even abuse of his own if you interpret it that way justifies how Ed physically takes him apart and makes him EAT parts of himself. That is beyond abuse. That is both physical and mental literal torture

And remember, Lucius was entirely innocent. He was actively trying to HELP Ed and that did not stop Ed from behaving violently towards him.

If you say since we see no signs of Ed abusing the Kraken Crew, I will remind you that the way Ed led the Kraken Crew got Ivan killed. Ivan DIED due to decisions made during Ed's time as captain of The Revenge, likely due to the constant raids making them exhausted and weakening their ability to fight.

We don't know enough about Ivan's death for me to really say that for certain, so it's speculation. But if Ivan died during a raid, the responsibility still falls on Ed's shoulders. He is their captain, it is his job to protect and defend his crew and we are explicitly told that he did not bat an eye when Ivan went down. We even see Ed kill a member of his own crew during his suicide attempt. A crew member falls overboard and we see Fang reach for them. This is directly caused by Ed sailing into that storm.

He points a gun at his crewmates and they have NO IDEA if he's going to shoot him. They're clearly afraid that he might. Fang starts crying and they all tense up. Frenchie expects Ed to kill him when he finds out that he's been hiding Izzy. They are afraid of their captain, they believe he does not care about their lives and that he could kill them at any moment.

This is abuse. I genuinely do not care if it is physical towards anyone but Izzy or not, it is abuse plain and simple. Ed behaves in an abusive manner towards his crew. That abuse actively puts their lives in danger. Constantly forcing them to go on raid after raid after raid for no reward (because he makes them dump the treasure that they believe they are earning for themselves, as Frenchie flat out asks Izzy if they're receiving "their cut") and exhausting them in the process makes them more likely to be killed on the field. Fighting while exhausted and demoralized is fucking difficult!

And before anyone says that's just life aboard a pirate ship, isn't Ed supposed to be better? Isn't he supposed to be better than Hornigold? Even Ed remembers having good times on Hornigold's ship with Jack. And the Kraken Crew appear constantly exhausted and terrified, carving out their own moments of joy just like Ed had to while under Hornigold

I have seen posts claiming that Izzy fans have a disconnect between interpretation of a character and their actual actions, but the lengths I have seen (certain, not all) Ed fans go to to completely absolve Ed of his cruelest actions absolutely baffles me. Like... Ed made Fang kill his dog and that's BEFORE he became the Kraken.

Ed is a dark character. He does twisted shit. Is that not INTERESTING to you? Does it not fascinate you that a man perfectly capable of torturing his crew and driving them harder and harder and harder until some of them die fueled by his own desire to make himself irredeemable STILL at his core is a man who wants nothing more than to be loved? Do you not find it somewhat beautiful and that this man with so much blood on his hands is still told "someone will love you. You are not a monster, but a person despite your cruelty"? Do you not think the story of a man so completely consumed by all he has done realizing that he can not erase the damage of what he did isn't a good tale to tell? Do you think there is a fundamental difference between the man who tells Stede not to kill and the man who has killed for himself?

I feel like stripping him of his horror takes away so much of who he is. So much of what makes him interesting. He CHOOSES to leave Stede's crew on an island to die of exposure or starvation. He CHOOSES to basically kidnap Frenchie and Jim. He CHOOSES to hurt those closest to him in horrible ways

And he chooses to come back from that. Chooses to try to do better. To learn. To grow. To love.

I have issues with season two, but if we had more time to watch Ed come back from this, to see him make amends with the crew he so horribly damaged, I would have thought this was the best arc ever. Redemption stories are my favorite because it shows that everyone is capable of both good and evil. Ed is capable of both too. I really wish people would see his growth for what it is: a man so entrenched in violence with a nonlinear recovery that hurts people and still keeps trying anyway. Rather than someone who never hurts anyone at all

[mobblespsycho100]

Not to be all "I'm better at interpreting characters than you" or "You have to like this character or you suck" but I honestly can't fathom Eurylochus haters because like if you hate Eurylochus then Mutiny doesn't have the amount of emotional impact that it's supposed to. It's literally one of the emotionally lowest song there is for Odysseus and his crew. He broke their trust, Eurylochus breaks down, the ship is literally still bathed in the blood of their friends. They tie up Odysseus and kill Helios' cattle because they were starving and wanted the journey to end already after losing so many people and their lives being sucked away at sea for 10 freaking years. Like. I get that Odysseus is the protagonist but y'all do know that everything is not Eurylochus' fault right. "You doomed us all Eurylochus" and Odysseus also doomed them all the same. Like. That final act of desperation to incur divine wrath was probably the fastest way they were going to go, at least its on their terms. Fuck like that moment in Thunder Bringer wouldn't go as hard if y'all felt like Eurylochus "had it coming" or whatever.

basically I'm saying like. Scylla, Mutiny, and Thunder Bringer literally wouldn't have the same impact if the listener isn't sympathetic to Eurylochus, who literally represents the entire crew. Free my man Eurylochus from Epic fandom hate jail cell he did all that and he was justified

[bronze-and-silver-keys]

I know Tsumugi says some weird stuff at the end about being a "cosplay copycat" and the disconnect of the prologue vs the recordings Tsumugi shows but I feel like V3 is fairly clear about what's going on?

The students are ordinary people who "audition" (more than likely get kidnapped) to be in the new season of DanganRonpa which has been propping itself with "Ultimate Real Fiction", where the memories and personalities of the assembled nobodies are overwritten with the Ultimates as we see them using the Flashback Light. That's what makes it Ultimate Real Fiction--the scenario and the personalities of the contestants are all fake, made by writers and prop crews, but the actual, physical people, their environment, and everything they go through are real. The people they were before the game started no longer exist, they have been fully overwritten by the new personalities, which cannot be returned.

DanganRonpa as it exists in V3 is 53 seasons in, with THH, SDR2, and DR3 being fully fictional in the game's context. Up until the 10th season this remained true, but then they implemented Ultimate Real Fiction from then on.

DanganRonpa is viewed by the outside world because they all love it, and they basically live in a crime-free utopia because DanganRonpa satiates people's violent tendencies/inspires them to keep moving forward in their own lives (if Tsumugi is to be believed about the specifics, though it's not really important beyond a whoooole lot of people really like watching teenagers kill each other because they justify it as being morally okay.)

I think it's supposed to mirror the ending of DR1, where we're uncertain what--if anything--we've been told about the outside world is true (at least until SDR2 came out) because it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. All we do know is the survivors are going to step out into that uncertain world together and keep moving forward.

Yall explaining it better than I am 🙏 I am running on very little sleep after an almost 12 hour shift.