#but i think it's such a crucial thing about her character

[toscanasoups]

is this a safe space. (kind)

wanted to try my hand at redesigning melanie and even writing a little for her since we still barely know anything.... criticism ahead (NOTHING TERRIBLE)

her design just doesnt. make sense to anything. its things mashed together and its cute but the more you think about it you go "....so why is this here exactly?" it reads more of an artists oc than a character that is crucial to a story.

so i decided "heh... how do i make most of this work." it leaned more into the tv head aspect, but i decided on a design that takes inspo from cartoons i saw as a kid! like max and ruby etc. i thought using the kids show idea would make it way more fun to write her post-resurrection. im a sucker for ai/characters that learn about their mortality and boundary break. Monika and Kinito Pet are big inspos. thought her learning about the game and her part in it would lead to some fun exploration into the elevator itself and whats behind it.... and more about folly eventually. not delving into the axosun cult i really think thats a poob centric story for the game.

!!pleasw dont take this as pure criticism. i think the potential for her character is really good!! (although i admit at first i was a bit upset she wasnt staying dead as a driving force, and i have seperate gripes about other designs) i just wanted to do this for fun really fast. im excited to see how the story continues!

[project-sekai-facts]

I'm just gonna leave this here because I feel like I should say something. Mizuki is trans, I still agree with the stuff I said a month ago. Did they say it in the story? No. Were they ever going to say it in the story? Well it seemed like I was but they just pulled the most insane 4 year queerbait.

Did people warn me? Yes, and I probably should've listened more, but from a writer's perspective what happened in Ena5 is very stupid so I had a little bit more hope for clpl. Confining any sort of actual coming out scene to a card story and fading to black over the actual reveal is honestly just cruel. Not to mention that Mizuki's bio is probably locked as "gender: ?".

Mizuki is still a trans character and trans representation, though the lack of actual confirmation really sours her story. Especially since the only indirect confirmation of her identity as a woman comes from student a talking to Ena about Mizuki (the whole Ena is a "normal girl" thing). Having Mizuki being robbed of her chance to come out by transphobes, and never resolving this so her bullies are left as the only credible source of her gender is atrocious. Mizuki being outed was a crucial plot point, to never resolve just leaves a bad taste.

It's still a glaring issue that clpl is trying to play both sides here. Which has always been an issue with things like white day and other marketing featuring Mizuki and the boys together. It's just gross that they're still trying to do it now, cutting off the actual reveal of Mizuki's secret and having the characters say "Mizuki is Mizuki", something that's often used by people who want to deny any trans reading, and a new area conversation about Mizuki's voice. Remember that old area convo about Mizuki having a lower voice. It gets referenced in a new one.

The reveal of the secret itself, transness aside, is comedically bad. Project SEKAI's writing isn't exactly amazing by any means, it's pretty basic in the grand scheme of writing, but this is worse than a lot of their other worst offenders. Building up to this big reveal of a secret that is incredibly important to one character's development, only for it not to actually be revealed, and probably never mentioned again, is ridiculous. It feels like a last minute change to ensure mass appeal but I don't know if it was. If it was, they still failed because some fans are dissatisfied that they never got told what it was, regardless of what they think it was.

And no, it's not corporate meddling. Probably. From colopale, maybe, from Sega, honestly probably not. Sega has other franchises and games with queer and specifically trans characters so it's not like Mizuki would be harmful to their brand image. If anyone interfered it was other staff at colopale.

Anyway, I'm not quitting the game and I'll still be running this blog for the time being. Not saying you have to continue playing and I totally understand people who are dropping the game over this. If anyone wants to add their thoughts to this post or send an ask freel free to.

[kaoskuantico]

I'll answer by parts:

she was reclaiming that space

That's a weird statement and you're just repeating what the writers said just because they said so. First of all, they didn't address Vi's trauma at all, and maybe it's just me but doing it with sex is a weird way of doing it.

jinx literally told her to

That felt OOC, even at her lowest point. As Vi said, Jinx saved Caitlyn's life despite her not willing to do the same. So Caitlyn thanked her by keeping Jinx in that ISOLATED cell? She said other people took her in before she got the chance to react. Okay, BUT I have two points about this.

Why didn't Caitlyn free her after the shock?

WHO took Jinx? In the battlefield it were only Cait and Ambessa's army, and the latter stayed with Ambessa to bury the dead. So...Who?

“it wasnt the time or place” ok so then what is the time or place?

Maybe...Not in Jinx's cell? Not right after Jinx told Vi she was going to "break the cycle"? Vi already knows or should know her sister is suicidal, in the first Act she saw it firsthand. And all this without having a proper conversation between Vi and Caitlyn, not even an apology for what happened in Act I, not for making her lose her father, permanently now. Cait was manipulated but she still played a crucial role in all of that.

Amanda said it herself, it was meaningful for Vi to free herself or her trauma related to being locked up both physically and mentally

The writers can say whatever they want, but as I said in another post (click), they can't do X in the show and say Z in interviews, that's just bad writing on their part. If they wanted to make Vi reclaim her trauma in that way, they should've dedicated time to it, not making up things AFTER the show ended. They lost the opportunity to show it.

yall just wanna take ANYTHING away from lesbians i swear

The only ships I like are wlw so this doesn't even apply to me. And for other personal reasons.

they barely got any screentime this season after the writers built up their relationship and arc SO MUCH in season 1 can we just have this one thing….

Whose fault is it? You said it yourself. They didn't develop their relationship properly. They fight, they suddenly are okay, they have another small fight and then suddenly have sex in her suicidal sister's cell.

even just IN the show stop blaming the characters for being horny in a weird place like their lives are MESSY and so is their relationship, they both went through hell especially vi, let them have this.

I still think it's weird. All I'm asking is have the same scene but in a bedroom??? After the war at least????? Just change the time and place and we're all good.

but it was so powerful how quickly Vi understood that Cait was on her side and supported her choices

Look, when Caitlyn pulled away the first time I thought "good, she's realizing Vi isn't in the right state of mind, they'll talk things through" and then Vi just says she doesn't fucking care.

Such a wasted opportunity to make them TALK and repair their relationship. Vi called her out once and all Cait said is "I know". Okay girl, we know you know, but that doesn't erase anything you and Ambessa did.

All of this can be summarized as "Amanda said it!", but if Amanda (and the other writers) failed to show it to the audience, that's their problem. They can't fix it with interviews.

can yall stop saying caitlyn came in the cell to f ck with vi like VI INITIATED IT😭 she was reclaiming that space she was finally letting herself be happy, like jinx literally told her to

“it wasnt the time or place” ok so then what is the time or place? their city is at war lmfao they just indulged in this for a very short time (the scene was only 2:28 btw.) and they deserved to, the place isnt as weird as yall make it to be, Amanda said it herself, it was meaningful for Vi to free herself or her trauma related to being locked up both physically and mentally

yall just wanna take ANYTHING away from lesbians i swear😭 they barely got any screentime this season after the writers built up their relationship and arc SO MUCH in season 1 can we just have this one thing…. even just IN the show stop blaming the characters for being horny in a weird place like their lives are MESSY and so is their relationship, they both went through hell especially vi, let them have this.

that being said i still do believe the scene would’ve carried a little more weight even with a few more lines of them talking about it all, or even caitlyn just saying “you didn’t lose me” before rizzing her up lol but it was so powerful how quickly Vi understood that Cait was on her side and supported her choices

[midnightbears]

✿ duskbound, afterlight.

#STARRING: cybertronian femme reader & other characters.

#TAGS: fighting. lots of fighting. wounds. mentions of pain. flashbacks. 'alluding' to prostitution.

#NOTES: i actually feel so weird for this chapter because not much happens (in a sense), but i can't stress enough how much i want you to feel the mc as an actual character instead of this just being a romance story, and i'm establishing this not only for you but also for myself! you will need to read the mc's character arcs and individual chapters, even if they're long or you might think are unnecessary. if you don't read them, you're going to miss out on crucial points of the story! character arcs for your mcs are essential! even when they're just y/n! y/n is still a character, and they need a good backstory and moments to flesh them out thoroughly. fanfiction should be made with as much love and care as a 'real' book would need to be. with my usual rant issued, enjoy <3

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

You remembered setting down the tiny bundle of belongings you carried, the meager possessions you owned neatly placed on the edge of your new berth, and your new pickaxe and hammer drill. You were still deciding where to put your things when the voice of who would be your new berthroom companion caught you off guard, breaking the silence like a sudden gust of wind.

“You can come out, my love. All is well.”

You had quizzingly looked at her after the words left her mouth, but you grew even more confused when you realized she was not looking your way. Instead, she was looking at the small locker at the end of her berth.

There was a hesitant creak, the metallic sound echoing in the quiet room. A small servo gripped the edge of the locker’s door, trembling slightly, and then a tiny figure peeked out—a sparkling, her frame barely more than a fragile outline against the dim light. She was almost painfully small, her light turquoise plating catching the faint glow in the room. 

“Come here, my light,” Starlight called out gently, extending a servo in a welcoming gesture as she sat at the edge of her berth.

The sparkling hesitated, her optics flicking nervously between you and her carrier. Her whole frame trembled with uncertainty.

You tried to make yourself look smaller, less imposing, feeling your spark crumple and crush with sympathy and curiosity at the existence of such innocence in this hellhole. So many questions and doubts ran through your processor at a speed that even the most talented racers would be jealous of.

Then, with a deep vent that sounded almost like a sigh, the sparkling took a cautious step toward her carrier. And another. And another. Until she was close enough to be scooped up into her arms.

“There you are,” She said with a tender smile, gathering the sparkling to her chest as if she were the most precious thing in the universe. The little one buried her face against her mother's chassis, and you could hear the faint whirr of her tiny cooling fans as she snuggled close, seeking comfort in the familiar embrace. Her servo moved slowly up and down the sparkling’s back. “I’m sorry for scaring you, sweetie. You’re very brave, are you not?”

Suddenly, she looked at you.

“I’m glad they sent another femme, I wasn’t about to take chances with someone who wouldn’t understand what it’s like.” She said. Although her voice was steady and unembellished, an undercurrent of intensity ran through it—tender and fiercely protective, issuing a warning. You could sense that this caution wasn’t aimed at you, but rather at some shadowy threat that lingered just beyond reach. “If they’d sent a mech, I would have thrown him out myself.”

You blinked, taken aback by her straightforwardness. You nodded slowly, trying to keep your expression open and unthreatening. Your voice was a little hesitant, unsure of how to respond to her. “I... I’m glad I’m here too.”

“Good,” she said, a half smile on her lip components, her gaze not wavering. “Then we’ll get along just fine. I’m Starlight, this is Vaportrail... she’s my everything. And I won’t let anything—or anyone—hurt her.”

Her tone now had no softness, only a hard-edged determination that made your spark tighten. This wasn’t a carrier who would let her guard down easily, not for anyone, and certainly not for someone she didn’t trust. But there was a flicker of relief in her optics, a softening around the edges as if admitting that your presence didn’t feel like a threat was a victory all on its own.

Which, in a way, made you very sad.

You opened your dermas, unsure of what to say, but Starlight cut you off with a small smile, her laughing, purple optics seizing you. “Don’t take it personally. I’m just... careful. They don’t make it easy for femmes like us. Especially not for carriers. I’m not about to apologize for doing what I must to keep her safe.”

You nodded quickly. “I—I understand. I don’t want to intrude. I just... I didn’t realize you had a little one here.”

“No, it’s fine,” Starlight said, waving a servo dismissively but not loosening her hold on Vaportrail. “You’re here now, and that’s that. They didn’t exactly ask my opinion before sending you, but... you seem alright.” Her optics scanned you up and down like she was weighing you, judging if you were genuinely trustworthy. Whatever she saw, it made her relax a fraction. “We’ll see how it goes.”

There was a silence that felt heavier than it should, and Vaportrail shifted a little, peeking out from the safety of her carrier’s hold. Her optics were still wide and oscillating, but there was a flicker now, like the spark of a tinderbox, and you managed a tentative smile. It felt awkward and unsure, but it seemed the right move because Vaportrail didn’t look away.

Starlight’s expression softened again, just a little, as she glanced down at her daughter. She leaned in and murmured, “This is…” She looked back up at you precipitously, “Sorry, what’s your name?”

You told her your new designation, the new number of the H branch in Mining Outpost R–02. You’d need to get used to it, but it would be easy enough. The overseer of your branch had already taken to refer to you as simply ‘8’.

Starlight almost grimaced at your words but soon looked down at the sparkling. “This is H-08. She’s going to stay with us for a while.”

The sparkling didn’t respond, but she didn’t hide either, and you took that as a small victory.

Starlight turned her optics towards you, revealing the complexities within her gaze—gentleness intertwined with determination, a fierce sense of protection that nearly felt rebellious. Above all, you noticed a tentative hope. It was delicate, nearly fragile, resembling something seldom relied upon and sustained by pure resolve. It felt like she was challenging you, silently urging you to either validate her doubts or, maybe, to offer her a reason to believe.

“Just make yourself comfortable,” she said with a half-smirk. “But don’t go thinking you’re a guest. You’re part of this now. And if you’ll be here, you’ll do your part to keep her safe, too.”

You nodded, meeting her gaze with all the sincerity you could muster.

“Of course,” you said. “I’ll do my best.”

You didn’t expect to follow Bluey’s advice that well.

Although you still felt anxious, there was one important lesson he ensured you understood, which was the primary reason you were managing to perform mediocrely well in the current match. Five simple words, but ones he made sure to drill into you, even at the cost of hearing him utter the sentence in your dreams.

“Always keep your head cool.”

The arena bore the scars of your prolonged clash—scorched craters, gouges in the walls, and the acrid tang of overheated metal. Across the battered expanse, your opponent circled behind a wall of waste metal. He was tall and bulky, his frame a juggernaut that had already tested your limits more than once. 

A younger you might have faltered by now, let exhaustion or his relentless power shake your resolve. But this wasn’t then. You adjusted your stance, steadying your frame and keeping Bluey’s advice sharp in your processor. This wasn’t over yet.

“Let them think they’ve got the upper hand, then take it from them in one clean swoop.”

Your opponent grinned, baring sharp teeth, his optics gleaming with something dark and eager. He lunged toward you, hurling a heavy swing of his greatsword, too fast and keen for a clean kill.

Good. You could work with that.

You ducked low, slipping just out of reach. He lunged forward, his momentum betraying him as he faltered, thrown off balance for a fleeting moment. The crowd's uproar filled the air, their cheers rising in a mighty wave, drowning out all other sounds. Bright flashes of light erupted around you, glinting off your polished armor and that of your opponent, creating a dazzling display that danced in the periphery of your vision.

“Most mechs here don’t think before they swing. Let them come to you. Half the fight is watching them trip over themselves. They’ll do half the work if you let them.”

You let him close in again, his optics narrowing as he swung, aiming for your helm this time. A broad swing of his arm—you had seen it a dozen times in practice with Bluey by now. You sidestepped and his fist cut through space, too slow to catch you. The warhammer in your grasp seemed to flow into your movements, and you did not even feel its heaviness.

He cursed, stumbling again, his frustration evident as he recovered, his vents heaving. Bluey was right; your opponent wasn’t thinking, only reacting. And now, with him unbalanced, it was time to make your move.

"Think quick, strike quicker. You don’t need to go for a kill shot in friendly matches. Just hit them where it hurts.”

So you did. Darting forward, you aimed low with your weapon, catching him squarely in the side with a swift, well-placed jab to his knee joint. The impact reverberated through your frame, his armor giving way just enough for you to feel the shock of metal against metal. He staggered, his vents hissing in pain, and you took advantage of his faltering balance, pressing forward with another strike to his leg.

His frame buckled, his weight crashing to one knee as he tried and failed to push himself back up. His optics flared with rage as he swiped at you again, desperation taking over, but you were already out of reach, watching his movements with a clear, unclouded gaze.

"A calm mind’s your greatest weapon. Most fights end the second your opponent loses his cool. Hold onto yours, and you’ll outlast them every time.”

You watched as your opponent struggled, rage overtaking his features as he realized his momentum had failed him. He staggered back, clutching his damaged leg, his optics wild, searching for some way to turn the tide. But you were already moving, closing in before he could react. A quick swipe to his shoulder joint sent him stumbling back again, a desperate growl tearing from his vocalizer as his arm dropped, sparking where the wiring had split.

The crowd’s roars escalated, but for once, the noise didn’t faze you. You kept your focus on him, your field of vision narrowing down to this one mech and his dwindling options.

“A hit’s only as strong as the bot that lands it. Don’t go for flashy moves if a simple strike will do the job.”

So you didn’t. You kept it simple and calculated, landing a swift, final blow to his remaining arm joint. His frame shuddered, forced down by the impact as he slumped forward, defeated but still functional, vents whirring unevenly as he struggled to catch his breath.

You took a step back, exhaling as you held your stance, ready to react to any last-ditch effort he might make. But there was nothing—no fight left in him, just the slow, begrudging slump of a mech who knew he’d been bested.

Another one. You’d done it! Shifting your helm toward the other side of the arena, you glimpsed the opening that connected the arena to the Gladiators’ lobby, and you swore that behind the bars, you could see a pair of familiar ochre-pigmented optics looking at you.

Bluey was there too, flashing a cheerful, childish thumbs-up as a wide grin spread across his face. He mimicked a series of playful punches aimed at the air, then broke into applause, cheering you on with boundless enthusiasm. You did not mind it. It actually made you smile.

Just as you turned toward the exit, you were so close to doing so as you began taking the first step; a pair of guards came to haul the mech onto a stretcher, and one of them harshly gripped your shoulder, evoking a grunt from your voicebox.

“You’re not done.”

You wrenched yourself free from his hold but stared at him confusedly, “We were the last ones on the list for today.”

“Not anymore.” The other answered for his partner, staring intensely at you despite his visor. “There’s been a last-minute change for your matches.”

‘Bullway.’ You looked away with irritation in your features (never directed at them), which was answer enough for the pair of guards. They began carrying the wounded gladiator away, fighting the urge to stifle their laughs while the mech deliriously quaked about his pain.

With a languid motion, you allowed your shoulders to roll back, reclaiming your position at the heart of the arena. To entertain the multitude of cybertronians around you, you threw your arms wide above your helm, sending a ripple of exhilaration through the crowd, igniting a cacophony of cheers and shouts.

You gazed at them in mild, calculated satisfaction. In some manner, the audience determined the level of excitement in the fight, and you felt a sense of relief knowing it would be exceptionally some time before you started boring them, even if you felt disgusted by their entertainment.

Suddenly, the other gate opened.

He emerged from the shadows. You’d seen him before, though only in passing. You hadn’t paid much attention to him then; now, it was impossible to look away.

His frame was massive, and his armor was scarred from dozens of battles. The faint glow of his optics burned like embers, and the sharpness of his gaze cut through the haze of dust and noise that filled the arena. His steps were heavy and measured, the kind of stride that wasn’t rushed because it didn’t need to be.

He stopped in the center of the pit, his helm tilting slightly as his optics locked onto you.

“So,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, carrying easily over the noise. “This is what they’ve got for me today?”

You tightened your grip on your warhammer, your digits aching. He was assessing you. You could feel it—a predatory gaze that lingered just long enough for you to start overthinking. Still, you said nothing. Words were a distraction. Both Bluey and Megatronus made points about that.

He seemed to take your silence as an insult. His mouth pulled into a sharp grin that didn’t reach his optics.

“They’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel now, aren’t they?” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain, each word sharp as a dagger. “Sending me, Celsius, some nobody.”

Your helmet shifted slightly, and the question slipped from your dermas before you could rein in your need to make him angry. “Who?”

In an instant, the atmosphere around him transformed dramatically, thickening with an almost electric tension. It surged through him, coiling like a tightly wound spring just moments before it snapped, tight and expectant. The playful mockery that had once danced mischievously in his optics was snuffed out, leaving behind an unsettling void. In its place, a chilling darkness crept in, settling heavily over his features, distorting the lines of his face.

“‘Who?’” he repeated, his voice dropping to a growl. “You don’t know who I am?”

You stared at him, unflinching. “No.”

The crowd caught wind of the exchange, and a wave of laughter rippled through the stands. His frame stiffened, his optics narrowing as the noise grew louder.

“You’re funny,” he said, though his tone suggested he didn’t find it amusing. “That’s good. Keep that up—it’ll make this more entertaining.”

Without warning, he lunged.

For a mech his size, he moved with startling speed, closing the distance between you in a handful of strides. His fist came down like a hammer, a strike meant to pulverize. You twisted away just in time, his blow slamming into the ground with a force that sent tremors up through your stabilizers.

You darted back, your hammer raised defensively as you sized him up.

He was fast, yes, but his movements were heavy, over-committed. He fought like someone who had never needed to think about his strength—who had always relied on brute force to overpower his opponents.

“Stay still!” he barked, his voice sharp with irritation as he swung again, the arc of his arm slicing through the air.

You ducked, letting his momentum carry him past you.

“You’re wasting energy,” you said, the words slipping out before you could think better of it.

His growl was low and guttural, and when he turned back to you, his optics blazed with rage.

“You’ve got a smart mouth, I heard,” he said, his vents heaving. “Let’s see how smart it is when I’m done with you.”

He lunged at you once more, his movements becoming increasingly wild and unrestrained, each swing of his fists wide and erratic. You sidestepped, remembering the footwork Bluey had practically made you memorize. Your opponent wasn’t relying on his tactical knowledge; instead, he was fueled by a burning sense of pride. That pride, however, was proving to be his greatest weakness, as it blinded him to the precision and finesse with which you fought.

“Who trained you?” he sneered, his words cutting through the air like shrapnel. “Or did they just toss you in here to die?”

You didn’t answer. There was no point. Instead, you waited, watching for the next opening.

It came sooner than you expected.

He swung wide again, his arm sweeping out in a broad arc that left his side exposed. You stepped in, driving your hammer into the joint of his leg. The impact sent a jolt up your arms, and his armor buckled under the force. He staggered, a snarl tearing from his vocalizer as he struggled to stay upright.

“You’ll regret that,” he spat, his optics wild with fury.

Once again, you didn’t respond. You didn’t need to.

He lunged again, his movements growing sloppier with each passing moment. His rage was blinding him, clouding his judgment. He was making mistakes, and you were ready to exploit them.

You darted around him, landing a blow on his shoulder joint. He cursed, the sound raw and guttural, as his arm dropped, sparking at the connection. His frame trembled with the effort of staying upright, his vents rattling like loose machinery.

“Fight me!” he roared, his voice cracking in frustration. “Stop running and fight me!”

You held your ground, your optics steady as you watched him. “I don’t need to fight you,” you said, your tone calm, almost detached. “You’re beating yourself.”

The words struck him like a physical blow. He froze, his optics wide with disbelief, before the rage returned in full force. He charged blindly, his movements a chaotic blur of desperation and fury.

You stepped aside, his momentum carrying him past you. Then, with one final swing, you brought your hammer down on his remaining shoulder joint.

The impact sent him crashing to the ground, his frame buckling under the weight of his arrogance. He lay there, his vents sputtering, his optics dimming as he struggled to lift himself.

You stood over him, your stance steady, your frame casting a shadow over his.

He looked up at you, his optics burning with hatred and humiliation.

“Who,” you said, your voice low, broken by your tired breaths between syllables, “are you supposed to be again?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, like a thunderclap, the crowd erupted. Their cheers and jeers mingled in a cacophony that reverberated through the arena walls, their voices rising in a frenzy. Some shouted your name; others hurled insults at the fallen gladiator. The noise was deafening, but you let it wash over you, standing tall as their energy rippled through the air.

Their way of letting you know: That was an excellent match.

You allowed yourself a glance upward toward the tiered stands. The Overseers’ box loomed above, a dark shape crowded with figures seated in detached luxury. A few of them nodded, the faintest inclinations of approval that barely registered against the clinking of energon cubes and muted laughter from their table.

Most weren’t even watching.

Your optics narrowed as you saw what held their attention. A courier had delivered a tower of tiny energon cubes to their table. One of the bosses reached out, plucking a cube from the precariously stacked pile with the same carelessness as a mech selecting a datapad. Another laughed as the tower wobbled but held its balance.

Your spark twisted violently in your chest.

They weren’t watching. After all the effort, after the pain and adrenaline, the gamble of your life against another’s... you weren’t even worth their attention.

A tower of energon cubes was upstaging you.

A surge of fury swelled in your core, hot and all-consuming. You acted before you could think, your frame moving on instinct alone. With a sharp pull, you wrenched a shoulder plate free from your defeated opponent’s armor, the battered piece of metal groaning as it came loose in your servo.

Then, you hurled the plating across the arena. It sliced through the air, the momentum carrying it in a deadly arc straight toward the Overseers’ box.

The piece struck the energon tower dead-center.

The cubes tumbled spectacularly, scattering across their table and clattering to the floor. Shouts of alarm erupted as some of the bosses scrambled back, some leaping from their seats as the impact sent their delicate drinks and datapads spilling across their laps.

The crowd gasped, the collective intake of air almost louder than their earlier cheers. A shocked silence fell over the pit, stretching taut and electric as every optic turned to you.

For a moment, you simply stood there, your plating heaving as the heat of your anger coursed through you. Then, you inclined the upper part of your frame—just a fraction, the gesture somewhere between mockery and defiance. Your optics locked onto the Overseers as if daring them to look away again.

When you finally turned, you saw that the arena gates had opened at some point, the path to the exit yawning before you. You walked toward it without hesitation, without awaiting dismissal, your pedsteps echoing in the stunned silence that followed you.

Behind you, the crowd erupted louder than before, their voices carrying an amalgamation of shock, awe, and delight. They weren’t just watching now—they were riveted.

An excellent match, indeed.

But as you crossed the threshold into the dim corridors beyond the pit, the noise faded into the distance, and you could feel the weight of the Overseers’ glares pressing against your back. For the first time, you were sure they were paying attention.

Good. Let them.

[theoutcastrogue]

[I swear I'm not biased. Also, skip this post if your criteria for a good story include happy and just endings.]

What made Arcane S1 a masterpiece was the Tragedy, and Vi's central place in it. She doesn't interact much with the magic plot, but she's right in the middle of both the sociological storytelling and several individual character arcs, and they're all pulling her apart. And that's what makes it all so compelling.

Vi accidentally or unwillingly becomes the catalyst for the collisions of Piltover vs Zaun, Vander vs Silco, and Powder vs Jinx. And she's torn between Vander's pacifism/defeatism and Zaun's rebelliousness, her hostility to Enforcers and her growing affection for Caitlyn, her hate for Silco and her love for Powder*, avenging the dead and protecting the living**, Caitlyn's vision of charity from above and Ekko's accomplishment of autonomy from below, saving Caitlyn and saving Powder (both from Jinx!), love and loyalty, guilt and revenge, topside and undercity.

There's a maelstrom of opposing forces and ideas, and all Vi wants to do is stand in front of her people and take the hit for them, raising her fists and blocking with her face like she always does. But who ARE her people, even? She's in the centre and she cannot hold: she's getting drawn and quartered by the actual themes of the story.

Like a true Tragic Hero™ (i.e. protagonist, heroism is irrelevant), she always chooses wrong. Not necessarily in the moral sense (though sometimes that too), but through a combination of tragic irony™ (when the character is unaware of a crucial piece of information) and coincidence: whatever she ends up doing, tragedy ensues. And it makes for a great story! Tragedy is a FANTASTIC medium if you do it right! And Season 1 did it perfectly.

But more to the point, it isn't about fatal character traits or random coincidences, it embodies all the social conflicts laid out in the story. All around Vi, the sociological storytelling converges with the psychological, and they both say the exact same thing: apply pressure to a society long enough, and the walls WILL come tumbling down. So the result is classic tragedy: any different choice could have prevented it, and yet it was inevitable. But the angle is specific: it's not the gods who are cruel and fickle. It's not our nature that's inescapable. It's not Fate that's implacable. It's History.

Season 2 didn't stand a chance in hell to be worthy of Season 1, unless League lore and all promotional goals were aggressively ignored. About half of it was worthy, I think, continuing seamlessly the earlier themes. But then the sociological storytelling was dropped from the forefront and eventually from view, Vi lost both her central place in the story and her internal conflict, and got a corny happy ending, there was SO MUCH flinching, and even the tragedy of Jinx's self-sacrifice was taken back (wink wink, she's alive).

I have many issues with Season 2 (and a lot of praise: parts of it were excellent, and the animation remained incredible throughout), but the main reasons it can't possibly compare to Season 1 is that in the end there wasn't enough Vi, and there wasn't enough tragedy.

Respectful hat tip to Ekko for filling in.

* Vi actually prioritises "bringing his bullshit empire down" over saving her sister from Silco, and voluntarily offers the name "Jinx" to the Council just to convince them to attack him.

** applies both to teen Vi choosing to surrender to the Enforcers, so that the Lanes won't fight and no one will get hurt (except her), and adult Vi putting her vendetta against Silco above everything: she gets Jayce to bring armed enforcers and Hextech weapons down to the undercity, and stands over the entirely predictable outcome of a dead child. Some of this obsession is fueled by hate for what Silco did to Vander and her siblings, but I think most of it is reflected guilt for what SHE did to Powder, which would never have happened if it weren't for Silco.

[nerdishpursuits]

Today’s episode was hard to watch. No doubt about it. But, sadly, this continues to be a reality for many women and raising awareness is crucial to combatting ignorance. Does it ever get any easier watching a woman being abused? Never. Is it necessary to show how terrifying and traumatic such events are? Yes. Even as Fina was rescued before things escalated further, this will profoundly impact her sense of self: her mental health, her emotional landscape, her relationship with her own body. The Fina we know is a vibrant, confident, deeply sensual woman. I’m sure she’ll be all that again but, for now, she’ll most likely have some form of ptsd. It’ll be another uphill battle but Marta will be by her side, every step of the way (given they’ve chosen to walk this thorny path, I’m hoping they’ll treat it with more care than Begoña’s own story of abuse; if done right, this can be a rewarding journey portraying the healing power of love and friendship, triumphant in the face of bigotry, victorious in the face of adversity)

Circling back to Marta. I can’t begin to imagine her despair at discovering Fina was abused. That all she’d been so desperate to prevent from reoccurring, has been attempted again, more violently than before. The guilt she’ll feel will be immeasurable, no doubt. And it will consume her from the inside out if she allows it to take root. Nothing is more hateful than failing to protect the one you love. And Fina is Marta’s everything, her whole world, her raison d’être.

Therefore, yet again, I’m going to remember that their story is meant to be one of hope and light. Which is what they are to each other. They’ll heal together, they’ll heal each other and grow all the stronger for it. The show’s not let us down so far. I trust this will end up a catalyst for many rewarding scenes together.

Which brings me to the foul reason they need healing to begin with. Thinking on it, it’s probably a mistake to call Santiago a psychopath, even as he displays plenty of traits that merit said label. He’s very much aware of his actions and deserves no leniency. Ultimately, he’s the product of a regime that glorifies in the systemic oppression of women. One whose very ideas, and ideals, derive from a deep-rooted misogyny. In Santiago’s purposeful narrowmindedness, a man is the epicentre of a woman’s life. Not being treated as such is considered a grave error and needs correcting. He’s the prideful despot who cannot fathom, or accept, rejection. One who cannot conceive of a world where he’s not given his due, as per the teachings of a society that views and treats women as second-class citizens, deserving of less and inferior to their masculine betters.

It’s all too clear Santiago’s worldview is also profoundly narcissistic, which makes his continued harassment of Fina even more disturbing. He genuinely believes he’s being magnanimous and merciful, extending his goodwill to her, the proverbial biblical sinner, so she can atone for her mistakes and be saved. In his own eyes, Santiago is a good man. In his misguided vanity, patronising and emboldened by a system that favours him at every turn, he even declares himself as such: a self-proclaimed saviour and Fina’s only path to salvation from a life of sin. Her sole path to redemption.

Truly, this character is utterly despicable and I cannot wait for him to eat dirt. But I also suspect he’ll cause more trouble until Fina and Marta are free of him for good. And while I’ll celebrate his demise with bells and whistles, I think the actor portraying this vile, sorry excuse for a man, is doing a spectacular job. They all are. Alba and Marta especially. Which is why this drama hit so hard when it made landfall. You feel Marta’s anguish and hopelessness, you experience Fina’s abject terror, you rage against Santiago’s condescending abuse.

That being rambled? Do I hate what Fina went through this episode? Wholeheartedly. It made me sick to my stomach, even as I’m grateful it ended with an attempt only (which doesn't make it any less of a violation). And damn, do I hate it’s necessary to show this nowadays because 2024 might as well be 1958 for many women still.

Also. I’m glad Marta didn’t have to ask Jesús for help, because she’d have never lived it down. Ultimately, I’m sure she would have done anything to liberate Fina from prison, even asking her older brother for help. But I’m glad the chosen path didn’t involve him. In fact, I’m pleasantly surprised Damián rose to the occasion. He keeps learning how to support and love Marta and he’s one gray character whose evolution I’m quite enjoying.

And finally? Marta so at ease with Carmen and Claudia. They’ve come such a long way and it’s a joy to see. From Marta feeling like she didn’t belong, back in the day, to them all falling into a much needed group-hug, knowing they can always rely on each other. Fina’s friends are becoming Marta’s friends and I love, love, love their scenes together. Not to mention they’re all kinda related now too, which adds some much needed levity.

Remains to be seen how they deal with the stigma of this entire situation. Poor Fina might as well have been branded with a scarlet letter and there's plenty more fires to put out once she’s out of prison. On the bright side, they’ll know whom they can trust and whom they need to keep hiding from.

Hopefully though, on to greener pastures at some point. Preferably healing at the Mafinca. Slowly but surely. And always, always together.

[aevitium]

is elysia a lesbian: discuss

This is actually (genuinely, sincerely) something I really really really love to talk about. For those of you who aren't familiar, allow me to show you some Real and Canon words out of Miss Pink Elf's mouth:

And that is... not at all it LOL.

I would like to start this conversation, however, with an acknowledgment. Whether the intention on Hoyoverse's end is representation or fanservice, Hi3 has undoubtedly secured itself as a yuriful piece of media. Elysia aside, it boasts a number of very canon wlw ships, and holds a lot of importance to many of its community members that identify as such. It meant a lot to me in my youth for similar reasons, and for all casual purposes: yes, Elysia likes girls. I think I would have to turn in my writing license if I disagreed.

However this is an RP group, and so "casual purposes" don't entirely cut it. Love is something so deeply ingrained into this character that the discussion of romance/sexuality just isn't enough. I think one of the biggest pieces to understanding Elysia is to understand, first, what love means to her.

It's quite well known that Elysia is not human. Her entire existence, despite being wholly dedicated to humanity, is not comparable to theirs. She has played human, has come as close as she possibly could to being one, but fundamentally she never has been. To comprehend what love means to her, first you have to separate it from the typical, human understanding of the term. Elysia does not love any one thing, she does not fall in love, she is love. An affection for a single person is not solely theirs, it is humanity's. You, a single person, are just as loved by her as any other.

Sorry. Feels like I'm back in bible school LMFAO.

Anyway. There is something so delightful to me about picking apart why Elysia takes up such a flirtatious nature. I boil it down to, rather simply, an imitation of what she has seen other humans equate to love. It's something she takes to so joyously, and so liberally, yet never reads as overbearing or weird or with too much intention.

It is genuinely hard for me to imagine Elysia in a Titled Relationship the way human society functions. She just... doesn't love like that. It's too small a thing to encompass the sheer gravity of all her affections. Desires for human affections and the like are just not something she could ever have a natural inclination for, because she isn't human. Anything Elysia pursues is intentional, stemming not from a natural interest but an artificial one spurred by her desire to be human.

Does that make sense? Maybe.

All of this is to say that the answer is Yes*(?). Elysia likes girls, she flirts with them, she certainly finds them pleasing to look at (think in the way that a person would enjoy looking at art, do you feel me) but she isn't. A Lesbian. Because she's not... anything. She's just too swag for human labels. Tho she is undeniably way less interested in men (if at all)

So I guess the jury's still kinda out LOL

[amugoffandoms]

Woo!! It's time! It's time for the gift exchange!! (@milgram-valentines-exchange) Happy Valentine's Day to @mrcrazyvillainvillainn!! I had such a fun time writing your gift!! Truly gotta let Mahiru and Mikoto be silly and happy! I really hope you enjoy!! I've never written a ship fic for any of the prisoners, so I guess we ball?? (Also, let me know if you want the art without the titles!!) JIAWODJIAOW Anyways, here we go! Please enjoy...

do i dare love you? (i have always loved you)

Is this selfish? This isn’t too much, is it? I just love you so much. How long would this dream go on? I guess we can just say that this feeling is happiness~ Do you really think you know what love is? You don’t have to keep it in and hide it away. "I love you", the reason why I'm here This is how "I" will love "you"! --- "To be honest, Mikoto Kayano didn't know what to expect." "Mahiru Shiina fixes the flowers in a bouquet and hands it off to the customer." (Mikoto Kayano and Mahiru Shiina love each other in the smallest of moments.)

To be honest, Mikoto Kayano didn't know what to expect. Getting a mysterious call out of the blue? Well, ah… That’s sure to scare him.

No, no, everything’s fine. No need to resort to anything crazy. 

Mikoto exhales and splashes some water on his face. Turning off the sink, he looks up at the mirror and flashes himself a smile. 

…ah, okay, that was a little embarrassing. Mikoto laughs to himself as he walks out of the bathroom and back to his desk.

He drums his pen against his desk as he moves his mouse around to turn his computer back on. Placing his head on his hand, he scrolls through emails and emails.

…

It’s just the same emails. “Fix that.” “I liked the original design better; can you do it again?” “The deadline moved. Make sure your designs are ready for–”

Ping!

Mikoto blinks and glances over at his phone. 

New Message: make sure to come soon! 

Right, yeah. Mikoto has to head back home soon. Okay, he should really get a start on his work so he can head home early!

Sitting straight, Mikoto pulls up some designs on his computer and grabs the small stack of papers. 

With one more glance at the ideas given, Mikoto starts designing.

Mikoto leans back in his chair and slumps back. The design… is done! This is where Mikoto pretends to hear a soft achievement noise. Ding!

Anyways, Mikoto exhales and looks at the papers on his desk. The design is nice! One of his finest designs, actually. He flips through the papers and nods to himself, happy with the result. 

In the corner of his eye, he notices his boss and quickly waves him down. The second his boss looks at him with a small smile, Mikoto realizes his desk is an absolute mess. 

Ack–! Why did he leave his energy drink can here? Oh, these papers need to be in a folder–

Right after Mikoto finishes rearranging his desk, his boss finally makes it to his desk.

“Chief! I finished the design you wanted me to make!” Mikoto hands the stack of designs with a small smile. His boss blinks, clearly surprised at how fast Mikoto finished the designs. He flips through the small stack, checking each design.

 

His serious expression seriously doesn’t tell me anything… Mikoto internally groans.

“Good job, Kayano.” His boss places the stack underneath his arm. “These will probably suffice for our client. Do you have other designs that need to be completed?” “Ah, um–” Mikoto looks around at his desk. He doesn’t think he does. “...No…?’

“Oh?” His boss asks, surprised for some reason. Hey, Mikoto knows how to finish his work if it isn’t being constantly changed! “Ah… Alright then… I guess you…” His boss looks around the office. “...Actually, it looks like everyone is preoccupied.”

Mikoto shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Please don’t give him more work. Please don’t give him more work. 

His boss lifts his wrist and looks at his watch. “Hm… It’s seven. Earlier than I would like to let anyone out.” 

Oh, please. Please. Please-!!

His boss sighs. “Alright, Kayano. You may head home early today. I’m only doing this because you’ve got most of your work under control and I unfortunately don’t want to bother your coworkers with giving you their work.” You would anyway, but you seem to be in good spirits today…? “Thank you, Chief!” Mikoto smiles. “Don’t expect this often from me. Have a good night.” His boss turns right around and walks away, going over to a different cubicle. Mikoto watches as his boss walks away and pumps his fist.

Woo! I’m free! Mikoto grins to himself as he packs his stuff into his bag. Standing up, he shuts his computer off and looks around.  To be honest, he feels really bad for his coworkers… 

But, he promised to get home as soon as he could. Mikoto glances at his phone, specifically that one notification.

make sure to come soon!

He doesn’t want to break his promise. So, with a quiet exhale, he walks to the elevator and clicks the button to go down. The elevator doors open.

He walks in.

…

“…oh, I forgot to press the button to the lobby–” Mikoto mumbles as he quickly clicks the button down.

Mikoto hears the key click in the lock and turns the doorknob. As he walks into his apartment, the lights are all out.

“I could’ve sworn I left the lights on…?” Mikoto mumbles as he takes the key out of the lock and shrugs off his coat. He slowly walks through his apartment, fumbling for the lights. 

His hands land on the switch and Mikoto flips the lights on–

Arms wrap around Mikoto’s neck. Something makes Mikoto twitch. “Surprise~!”

Mikoto jumps. 

Mahiru laughs above him as Mikoto lies on the ground, dazed. “Ma– Mappi???” Someone relaxes.

“Hehe~ Did I scare you?” Mahiru giggles, absolutely beaming. “A… a little, yeah!” Mikoto dusts himself off. “I think I hit my head… Ow…”

Mahiru’s laughter immediately stops. “Ah– did I hurt you? Hey, let me see–”  Mahiru quickly kneels on the floor and scoots next to Mikoto. “No, no. I’m okay, I promise– Please don’t worry!” Mikoto gives a weak smile. “Let me just look, okay?” Mahiru says, with a soft voice filled with concern. (Her voice is always soft, but these moments, they're just a little bit more comforting. Maybe it’s Mikoto being too detail-oriented recently, but he’s decided to notice the smaller things.)

Mikoto swallows. “Okay.”

She looks at the back of Mikoto’s head, checking for any bumps or bruises.  The moment is silent as Mahiru looks all over Mikoto’s head for anything and Mikoto sits there, quiet.

To be honest, he doesn’t want to say anything. He doesn’t want to ruin it. It’s… those small moments, right? When you know someone loves you. Those are the moments you want to hold in your hands because they’re so fuzzy and warm. 

“I love you,” Mikoto whispers. 

There’s a pause. Mahiru stops checking his hair. Her hands are still. She’s not moving. 

Did he ruin it? Maybe he should apologize and–

“I love you, too,” Mahiru whispers back.

And, they’re back to silence.

Mahiru scoots back in front of him. “You’re okay. Nothing too bad, okay?” 

She says it with a voice that makes him know she cares: a warm, loving voice. It makes him want to cry just because she loves him. 

And, he loves her. And, he'll make sure she knows that.

“Okay,” Mahiru says, her voice oddly strained. Is… is she about to cry? “Um… Okay, I made some food for you. I– I know you don’t usually like big gestures and I really shouldn’t push myself, but… I think you deserve it, okay?”  “Okay.” Mikoto nods. He stands up and gives a hand to Mahiru, who takes it with a small giggle. “Hehe, this feels like a fairy tale~” She hums.

“Hey, can I…?” “Eh? Do what?” Mahiru asks, with a tilted head. “I mean, whatever it is, I don’t mind~”  

Mikoto places a small kiss on Mahiru’s cheek.  “Ah–!! Hey–! Oh–” She’s red, blushing from ear to ear. 

Mikoto laughs. “That was payback.” “Oh, you-!!” Mahiru has an angry look, but her smile says otherwise. “Fine, fine! That’s fair. Okay, come on, let’s eat~ I don’t want our food to be cold!” Mahiru grabs Mikoto’s hand in hers, trying to drag him over to the table.

Her hands are warm.  Mahiru quickly pauses as she looks at Mikoto and their hands. “Is everything okay…?” Mikoto nods.

“Everything’s perfect.”

Mahiru Shiina fixes the flowers in a bouquet and hands it off to the customer. “Have a good afternoon~” She grins.

As the shopkeeper’s bell rings to show the customer has left, Mahiru sighs and melts into the counter.  “Shiina…? Are you alright?” One of her coworkers asks as they walk over. Mahiru mumbles something into the counter.  “Uh…” They laugh. “Okay, I’m guessing you’re not okay. Um…”

Mahiru keeps her head on the counter as she hears her coworker’s footsteps slowly disappear.

Mahiru sighs. She’s really tired… She wasn’t able to get any sleep last night. She doesn’t even know why. She just couldn’t sleep. A lady like her should be getting her beauty sleep! 

Oh, well… She’ll just have to brave the storm! 

Mahiru quickly lifts her head up and instantly gets hit with a fit of dizziness. 

Ah, that was a bad idea…

As Mahiru quickly blinks away the dizziness, she notices her boss and coworker walking over. 

“I wasn’t doing anything–! I mean, I was doing something, I promise!” Mahiru awkwardly laughs as she waves her hands around defensively. Her boss shakes her head. “Mahiru, you can head home. We don’t expect that many people today, and you seem tired. I can cover whatever is left of your shift.” “Ah, but–” “I’ll pay you for your full shift, alright? Just head home.” “Okay.” Mahiru hesitantly nods and takes off her apron as she heads to the break room to grab her stuff. 

When Mahiru returns with her belongings, her coworker hands her a small bouquet with lilyturf, dahlias, forget-me-nots, and red lilies. 

“I know you’ve enjoyed taking these kinds of flowers home recently, so here you are!” As Mahiru opens her mouth to speak, her coworker continues, “And, don’t worry about the charge. I already paid for it.” Mahiru blinks, taking the bouquet and looking at it. “Ah… Oh. Thank you.” Mahiru smiles at the flowers.

“Of course! Now, rest well!”

Mahiru smiles at her coworker before leaving the store, the shopkeeper’s bell ringing behind her.

Mahiru hums as she enters her apartment and quickly walks over to her table near the couch, grabbing water from the kitchen. She places her bag on the floor next to the couch.

Sitting on the couch, she pours some water into a glass vase. Then, she places her bouquet in the vase.

Mahiru looks at the bouquet for a few moments, admiring each flower.

When she yawns, she finally lowers her head on a pillow and slowly…

Closes…

Her eyes…

There’s a smell of food cooking in the air.  She feels warm.

Mahiru slowly blinks the sleepiness from her eyes and looks around. 

…why is there a blanket on her…?  Is someone cooking?

Confused, she pushes herself upright and glances at the kitchen.

Mikoto.

Mikoto is cooking.

“Huh…?” Mahiru blurts out, sleepy and confused. Mikoto looks over at Mahiru. “Oh, hey! You’re awake! Sorry, I tried calling you, but you were asleep. Um, so I let myself in with the spare key!” 

Mahiru glances at her bag on the floor and quickly picks it up. Opening it, she searches for her phone. When she finally finds it, she turns it on and sees the notifications flood her lock screen.

3 Missed Calls

10 New Messages:

hey, mappi ^^!!

i’m off from work so i’m coming to visit!

Ah wait you might be at work

Go back to work!!

i think your door is locked??

hello?

mappi??

i’m letting myself in, ok?

oh dear where’s your key

found it!! Coming in now :D

Mahiru rambles as she stares at the notifications, “Ah– I didn’t realize you were calling. I’m so sorry, please forgive me–”

“Hey, hey. It’s all good!” Mikoto smiles. “You were tired, so I let you sleep. I grabbed a blanket from your closet. Hope that’s okay!”

Mahiru nods and sits there for a moment, not sure what to do.

She glances over at the table, spotting the bouquet. She looks at Mikoto, who has a smile on his face as he tries to cook some soup. 

She knows why she likes getting these flowers.

They remind her of Mikoto.

They remind her of how much she loves him.

She loves him.

“Hey, let me help you, okay~?” Mahiru sings as she hops up and skips over to the kitchen. “No, I’m okay. I can cook, see?” Mahiru looks at the small pot Mikoto is using to cook soup. 

It’s… hm… not the best soup…?

“Just let me help you, alright?” “Alright, alright.” Mikoto, stepping back, raises his hands. “Show me what you want to do.”

Mahiru quickly slides in front of Mikoto and glances at the pot. "Can you wrap your arms around me?"

"Eh–?" Mikoto coughs in shock. "Yeah, yeah– Um…" 

Mikoto quickly wraps her arms around Mahiru and looks over her shoulder as he tries to stir.

“Mhm~” Mahiru hums. “You’re stirring a little too harshly. Relax, okay?”  “Alright.” Mikoto slowly stirs the soup.  “Still too tense. Okay, hold on.” Mahiru places her hands on his. “Okay, now… We’ll do this together, okay?” 

Mikoto is quiet. Mahiru takes that as his yes.

Mahiru, with Mikoto’s hands in hers, slowly stirs the soup. She murmurs some small compliments.

Mahiru lets go of his hands and smiles. “See, you’re doing it now!”  Mikoto breathes a sigh of relief. “Is it better? Honestly, I really couldn’t tell the difference.” “Hmm… Well, I guess there really isn’t.” Mahiru shrugs. “But, I think the amount of quiet, slow care you put into something will show itself." She's made herself learn that love can be soft and strong. Ever since her last boyfriend and she broke up on... amicable terms, she's tried being better. For love, and for who she loves. “I see.” “...I know it really doesn’t make sense. I’m sorry.” Mahiru shakes her head and slides out from in front of Mikoto.

“No, no. It makes sense, I promise.” Mikoto looks over at Mahiru with a smile. “It shows that you care.”

Mahiru smiles back.

After a few moments with Mahiru helping Mikoto cook, they finally eat together at the table. 

“Mappi?” Mikoto fidgets with his spoon. “Hmm?” Mahiru hums, food in her mouth. “Thank you.”

Mahiru blinks and just nods. “Y-yeah, of course…!”

Ah– That was so embarrassing…! Not at all lady-like! I should’ve just…!!

“I really don’t cook often, so that was really helpful. Haha…” Mikoto rubs his neck with a smile. “I mean, I do cook! It’s just… noodles and stuff.” “Well, now you know how to cook one more thing!” Mahiru smiles.

“Yeah.” Mikoto looks at Mahiru with a loving smile on his face.

His smile is so sweet. He even tries to do stuff he’s never done before for me! Ack… My heart can’t take it–!!

I love you.

Mikoto stares at Mahiru before laughing. 

“E-eh?? What did I do??” “Nothing, nothing. I love you, too.” Mikoto grins.

…she said that out loud…

Mahiru is instantly embarrassed. She feels warm again, but she’s not wearing a blanket. “Oh… Ah–”  “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s sort of cute, I think…?” Mikoto rubs his neck. “Ah– If you say so…!!”

The two of them continue eating when Mikoto suddenly speaks up again. “Hey, did you mean to make you help me feel like one of those scenes from a movie…?” “E-eh?? No, no, wait– Ah. I really didn’t, I swear!!” Mahiru frantically shakes her head. Mikoto blinks, seeming to realize Mahiru is a little panicked. “Hey, no! I thought it was sweet–!”

Mahiru awkwardly laughs. “I’m glad you do… Um… Maybe I was subconsciously inspired by something…?”

“That’s okay.” Mikoto shrugs. “Everything you do is sweet.”

Mahiru beams. 

“If it’s for you, I’ll make sure it’s worth everything.”

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

This. This. This entire conversation with Morrigan actually makes me want to sob. She and my Tabris always becomes close friends over the course of DAO; that, paired with the fact that my Tabris always romances Alistair, makes everything about this hurt so much more when you take DAO's ending into account.

Her confusion over why my Tabris didn't send her away. Why she didn't abandon her after they learned of Flemeth's plans. Why Tabris went out of her way to slay Flemeth and bring her the true grimoire. She asks Tabris why, and is baffled when the answer is, "I did it because I'm your friend," as if it's that simple.

The way Morrigan looks at the warden, the way her voice cracks when she says, "I want you to know that while I may not always prove... worthy... of your friendship, I will always value it."

She knows how this will end; Flemeth sent her with the wardens with the end goal of stopping the blight and obtaining the old god soul through the dark ritual. Morrigan knows that Alistair and Tabris are the only Grey Wardens here, and assuming they don't find more, one of them will have to die defeating the archdemon unless they agree to do the dark ritual.

With that context, her asking Alistair, "And what if a Grey Warden has forced to choose between the Warden he loved and ending the Blight? What should his choice be?" suddenly has so much subtext weaved through the words that I'm gonna start foaming at the mouth. She's practically telling Alistair that a warden has to die. She's scrutinizing his reaction to find any hint that suggests he would agree to the dark ritual in order to save himself and the woman he loves. And when he doesn't choose, she has her answer.

Morrigan made comments to Tabris about him, almost hopeful that their relationship was just a physical thing between them and not actually riddled with feelings... and then gives disapproval when Tabris says she loves him.

She doesn't want the warden to die; hell, she doesn't want Alistair to die, either; whether because she does actually care about him or because she knows it'll break her friend's heart if she loses him, or both!

Things would be so much easier if the only two Grey Wardens left to defeat the blight didn't fall in love, wouldn't they, Morrigan?

She knows that in the end, no matter the outcome, she will lose the woman she called sister and it's devastating.

Morrigan, who has never known true friendship. Who grew up isolated in the woods with an abusive mother and terrible implications for her future. Who discovered said mother planned to take over her body just as she did with her other daughters. Who doesn't understand kindness as it was rarely given to her without a catch. Who isolates herself from the others in camp. Who finally has a companion she cares about... and in the end, if her plan works and the dark ritual is completed, she'll end up pregnant and alone and wearing Tabris' resentment like a tender wound on her heart.

Or Tabris will reject the ritual, and will die to the archdemon.

Or her lover will.

I just- the dynamic between the warden, romanced Alistair, and Morrigan is so good and painful and rich that I'm gnawing on furniture as we speak.

[avatarkcrra]

tlt enjoyers i am so curious to know what has been occupying your mind the most during the alectopause. i for one Cannot Stop Thinking about judith deuteros.

[bogos-bint3d]

Post that has rerouted my brain

[unproduciblesmackdown]

another billions analysis thing is like so yeah while it's like "hmm let's think about power" but then doesn't really do that, what's there to offset that is "but let's think about what these people with billions(tm) are doing because of their like personal feelings & lives & whatever" and the personal feelings are the thrilling journey of s1 men following the compass of their ego & the way their personal lives matter at all beyond this is about their Relationships. except the relationships are also actually about the power billions isn't really thinking about because the ones billions focuses on involve this Fealty where one person does whatever and the other is just stuck with it. sure they might air some unhappiness sometimes, but if it's not punished or ignored from the start anyway, it'll still end up so inconsequential that it's as though it never happened. and what's left to offset the way that can't mean anything if you again take it for granted that of course people are just locked into such relationships & best they can do is fix it from the inside or embrace it as is? is "do you think this character is a winner among losers & you want to see them pwn everyone & do whatever they want forever" & if you like all the media the creators do like

[grimmjowjaegerjaquez]

if i was someone with any kind of consistency i couldve been known for ach'm. my stupid sexy frog man. (who is also a cyborg)

[agnimybeloved]

the tonal whiplash between “the sun and the star” and “a nico di angelo adventure 😋” is kind of insufferable... it just sounds so goofy for lack of a better word. like the least nico di angelo thing you could do to a title. but also i think its really funny for that reason like i don’t know what the necessity is for that additional tagline but i’m glad rick riordan continues to not take nico completely seriously LOL 

[astro-g0re]

tempted to make a story that'd cause so much discourse on this app and would probably get me doxxed if it got noticed

[tunemyart]

#going back here to say that it is Really crazy#and mulgrew seeing the script and going: bet#watching the episode and discovering what the premise was A Trip in itself#janeway alreadyd did this so like resigning from starfleet if they didnt accept seven was completely Nothing @moonhuit

Sometimes I still can’t believe that “Endgame” was so overtly J7 and have to bang out a few hundred words why; or, in which I feel strongly that the series finale of Voyager might as well have been called “Seven of Nine Is Going to Die” and this is why.

The script gives such emphasis to Admiral Janeway’s preoccupation with and trauma surrounding her Seven’s death, especially in comparison to her grief over Chakotay’s death and Tuvok’s degenerative illness. She desires to save them also, yes! Of course! She loves and misses them too! I would never argue otherwise!

However.

Seven is repeatedly bucketed into a very different category than Tuvok and Chakotay, who are likewise repeatedly bucketed together into the same category, in line and in frame. See for reference:

Admiral Janeway talking with sorrow, but fairly easily, about Chakotay and Tuvok before the time jump, vs. her almost inability to even mention Seven’s name (I’d… prefer not to discuss Seven of Nine.)

Admiral Janeway beaming aboard Voyager and fondly taking in the sight of Tuvok and Chakotay standing together in one frame vs. Admiral Janeway leaping off her biobed when Seven of Nine walks in, staring intensely and hungrily at her for the length of an entire scene

Admiral Janeway working with Tuvok and Chakotay on either side of her on the bridge in a fucking voiceover montage vs. Admiral Janeway tracking down Seven and exhorting her in the rawest voice you personally have ever heard to think about “people who love you” re: avoiding Seven’s future death

Admiral Janeway cutting off lines and lines and lines and lines and lines of Captain Janeway’s anger and determined idealistic optimism with a single phrase: “Seven of Nine is going to die.” Captain Janeway’s attention thusly grabbed, Admiral Janeway then reveals Tuvok’s illness. She says nothing about Chakotay aside from “He’s never the same after Seven’s death - and neither are you.”

This is JUST BARELY still in the subtext at this point, and only by the bludgeoning force of the emotionally nonsensical Chakotay/Seven scenes that are dropped around them to heteronorm up the episodes. None of them matter, because even their slap-in-the-face absurdity can’t detract from the power of the real emotional thread of the finale:

Seven of Nine Is Going to Die.

This is the turning point of the entire finale, the moment when Captain Janeway and Admiral Janeway find common ground. Admiral Janeway has gambled everything on being able to travel to the past and say these exact words to her younger self, knowing the effect they would have. And guess what? She was fucking right. 

The entirety of the rest of the plot turns on this moment, and I’m absolutely not exaggerating when I say this. It’s around this point that Captain Janeway starts taking Admiral Janeway seriously and begins to not only trust her and ground her assistance in that trust, but also try to understand her - which, after an entire episode where Captain Janeway has been running on stubborn disbelief and rejection of this vision of who she is quite capable of becoming, is almost the more miraculous turning point.

And why? Because Seven of Nine Is Going to Die. That’s the consequence of not doing so. And if there’s one thing - one thing - that all versions of Janeway can agree on, it’s that Seven of Nine’s death is unacceptable. And for a finale that is very nearly a referendum on the constancy of Janeway’s character, that’s saying a hell of a lot.