#depicted later in war arc)

[deadmegumi]

The kakashi anbu arc/tenzo backstory eps are soooo good

[necrotic-nephilim]

as much as I love the common "Tim worships/stalks Jason" trope in TimJay fanfiction because it's Good and making Tim a weird little freak is Fun, I think the underutilized dynamic is where Jason is the one weirdly obsessed with Tim and makes it Tim's problem.

Like, the moment Jason is confronted with the information that a third Robin exists, the first thing he does is cover his wall with pictures of Tim so he can just obsess and torture himself over it. That is the behavior of a man who is Unwell over Tim's existence and I love it.

red hood: lost days #4

And as much as a shitshow as The Titans Tower Incident™ is characterization-wise (though I think it has far more merit in depicting Jason's character than people give it credit for but I digress-) there's something very fun about the fact that even after kicking his ass, Jason respects Tim and is impressed by him.

teen titans (2003) #29

And on top of that, Jason can't seem to stop trying to ask Jason to Tim to work with him in some capacity.

robin (1993) #177

batman: battle for the cowl #2

While Battle for the Cowl is an exceptionally bad comic, especially for its characterization of Jason and the "be my Robin" bit is taken deeply out of context, I do think it's interesting how obsessed Jason is with believing that Tim is extremely competent, only held back by being "brainwashed by Bruce". (hence him leaving Tim for dead later on in the comic.) Jason seeing a darker side of Tim and wanting to bring that out of Tim, wanting to see what Tim could be if he let go of his loyalty to Bruce is so fun to me, tbh.

And in Robin #177, Jason seems genuinely upset Tim doesn't want to work with him. Jason sees such a raw potential in Tim and is obsessed with it, constantly wanting Tim to work for him and see Tim be the type of person Jason is. And despite Tim rejecting him, Jason doesn't shoot to kill Tim. I just cannot get over the fanfic potential of Jason obsessing over Tim, tracking him and seeing what he's capable of and what he could be capable of. Wanting to make Tim see things the way he does. To Tim it's corruption, to Jason it's freedom. Tim trying to 'save' Jason is fun and all, but Jason trying to corrupt Tim? That's even more fun to me. Watching that power struggle between them, Tim unable to get Jason off his heels as Jason gets more and more possessive and bold with each attempt.

And when Jason sees Tim successfully get Gotham back under control after a gang war, he's impressed. He praises Tim, even. And then Tim just. Breaks him out of prison.

robin (1993) #182

The way they're constantly trying to see something in the other that isn't there, hoping the other will come around? That is the most fucked up hate/love dynamic ever. Jason keeps coming back to Tim, keeps trying to find ways to get Tim onto his side. They're always chasing each other. And I think Jason would be the one to confess love first, the one to do anything to make Tim his. And when you consider after all of this, Tim has his Red Robin arc and is at his lowest, getting the closest he ever gets to considering murder? I think it'd be so fun to see Jason take advantage of that and worm his way back into Tim's life and finally push Tim over the edge.

[ffxivtranslations]

Why did Haurchefant have to die? Interview Translation

I translated part of an interview with Yoshi-P and the two main scenario writers of HW, Ishikawa and Oda. It's about Haurchefant's character arc and why he had to be sacrificed. At least Oda tried to save him, bless his heart!

Interviewer: In 2.x, Haurchefant appeared to be a cheerful character, but in 3.0 his role takes a serious turn. What was the reason for this change?

Ishikawa: In the 2.x series I was in charge of his dialogue as the Character Concept designer, but in 2.55 I felt I had properly written down his important points and position in society, so I could hand him over to Oda and Maehiro for 3.0. Because of this I don’t think anything changed about him from the start; how he cares about his friend, or his essence as a knight.

Oda: I agonised over Haurchefant’s fate right until the very end… over and over I suggested plots in which he might somehow survive.

Yoshi-P: Those plots were too contrived; I couldn’t approve them! LOL In depicting this war between humans and dragons, I thought it was wrong to only have the dragons’ side experience loss after loss and not have the humans make any sacrifices. So that’s why I told them to properly decide the fate of every character. The fate of every character should have been decided early in the development phase of Patch 2.3. So Haurchefant’s fate was decided by then too, right?

Oda: Yes, that’s right. That’s why in Patch 2.4 and 2.5, when I wrote all his un-voiced lines, I was already doing so conscious of the fact that he would die later on.

Yoshi-P: Haurchefant is a character that is not just loved by players, but also loved by the development team. But since we decided on the plot twist where he would become the Warrior of Light's shield, we were prepared for the worst. Because of that we were able to write the Patch 2.5 scene, in the Falling Snows, where he reaches out to the Warrior of Light in his time of need. I think that such a long build-up led to the deep emotional impact of Haurchefant’s final moments. In that way, I think the deciding his fate early on was connected to how much importance he had to the story.

Oda: However, seeing how warmly players reacted to him, I feared that having Haurchefant lose his life would cause some players to quit the game forever, and fought desperately against it to the end…

Yoshi-P: He kept giving me re-takes of the plot where Haurchefant is able to come back to life, and eventually I remember getting quite mad at him. At one point, the 3.0 ending ceremony scene had Haurchefant appear in a wheelchair and I yelled “Hey, isn’t that the same as Thancred in ARR?!”. I’m pretty sure I shouted at him LOL

[boredgrace23]

I talked about Scout and Demoman's characters. Here's one for Sniper who goes through way too much crap in the comics that barely anyone acknowledges.

I know people depict Scout as the scrappy kid among the crew, but Sniper shockingly fits the bill. And I don't mean scrappy as in throws punches, scrappy as in is resilient and persistent despite the odds against him.

In the game, aka ‘the Gravel Wars,’ he’s introduced as a standoffish asshole who wants nothing to do with the team. He pretty much insults everyone when you’re playing as him in the voice lines, from teammates to the enemy team, and he is in no way a professional.

And even WHEN he’s not on the battlefield, in Expiration Date, he’s off to the side and doing his own thing. Except for when Spy recruits him and Demoman to duet for that fake date.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get along with the team; if he didn’t, he wouldn’t bother with them at all. In fact, the only real person we mostly see him truly getting along with (before the comics) is Scout. We rarely see him having any patience for the other mercs until the second to last comic.

He’s more or less just refusing to get along with them for a reason we don’t know about. Aka, the scene where he drugs both Demoman and Miss Pauling.

While we can assume it’s from being bullied in his childhood, we can also assume it’s because he thought it was his old/ex team to have killed his family, and that’s INCLUDING Scout. He assumes the worst in everyone, and even if he ""likes"" the team, he also understands that they're just hired arms.

If there’s one thing everyone can agree with about Sniper’s character, it’s that he’s both incredibly intelligent and incredibly wary.

I mean, he’s gotta be if he’s the one watching everyone’s back. It's just ironic how everyone trusts him to watch their back, but he can't ever trust anyone to watch his.

For good reason too, let’s not overlook that when Sniper gets shot, no one’s looking out for him, and he just... dies in Demoman’s arms.

No one really cared when his biological parents abandoned him again. Miss Pauling didn’t really offer much besides a simple sorry, Spy was too caught up in his own dilemma about parents abandoning their kids, and Medic was just happy to see them all again. But what’s REALLY tragic about that whole thing, is that of all people to hold Sniper as he’s dying, it was Demoman. The one person who would truly understand his grievances.

And as he’s in heaven having that conversation with his dad, even when Sniper’s relationship with his dad was shaky at best, he still wanted his approval. He doesn’t have daddy issues, he just got into arguments with him about his career, and even in the end, his dad only wanted what was best for him. They both knew that.

It was just unfortunate that both he and his dad died so Sniper could finally receive approval and understanding.

Then, finally, after getting that approval, he’s actually working with the team and being patient with Spy, the one person who he openly despises. Spy actually had his back and saved him, something that he didn't have before.

He helps the team, settles down by a lot, and is just overall in a much happier place.

In fact, when they go to save Soldier, he's got their backs even years later, and they very much have his after Spy proved that to him.

To conclude Sniper's wonderfully sweet arc: during the dinner scene in the finale, we see him and Demoman share a drink.

And I think that’s bloody beautiful.

[velvetvexations]

I don't agree with the notion that Kira's arc in DS9 is about forgiveness of one's oppressors because I think 'forgiveness' is a very specific thing that isn't really what I see depicted in her story. She never absolves the Cardassians for anything. She fights with them against the Dominion, but (A) not wanting them to be genocided isn't the same as forgiveness, (B) Kira just happened to be one of the most important people in the war and she may have been considerably less enthused about fighting for Cardassia if so much of that job did not rest on her shoulders personally, and (C) there's entirely practical reasons for that anyhow given that the Dominion is trying to conquer everyone.

Like, it seems like what people put down as Kira forgiving the Cardassians is managing to see individuals as unworthy of being hate crimed in the streets, which is a fairly low bar. She bonded with Maritza as someone who was also traumatized and desperately trying to heal what had happened but situation was insane for a million reasons and I think it's wrong to simplify it down to her being cool with Cardassians now or deciding that he was innocent because he was just a clerk and felt really bad about it. Like, that was several seasons before she gave a fiery speech about how she didn't care whether an occupier "held a phaser in your hand or you ironed shirts for a living."

If she had really forgiven the Cardassians, if that had been part of her arc, Kira would have been much more contrite to Prin. She would have still justified her actions as necessary, but she would not be nearly as fiercely defiant about it as she was. Kira clearly still carried that anger from growing up knowing nothing but horrific oppression. She's regretful about the comment she makes to Damar later but aside from that also having practical concerns (not wanting to fuck up their extremely tense alliance) the fact that she made it in the first place again shows that it's not something she's let go.

I think DS9 takes a stance on letting hatred fester and curdle in you for your entire life but I don't think that means you have to forgive anyone for anything. It's like Sisko's trauma in the pilot - it's not linear! When things are over you have to pick up the pieces the best you can and move on, for your own sake as much as anyone else's.

[bluespider62]

I absolutely LOVE how much of a threat Starscream is in the Energon Universe.

Rather than being relegated to the role of comedic relief, Starscream is depicted as a force to be reckoned with and an irredeemable character. (As much I want to see a redemption arc, it doubt it's possible.) Upon being reawakened on Earth by Jetfire, what's the first thing he does ?

He shoots Bumblebee's face, blasts his only friend for showing weakness and squishes Carly's father like a squeaky toy just for fun.

Later, he willingly abandons an injured Skywarp, telling him he'll come back for him, only he does the opposite and shoots a hospital. This shows how careless Starscream is of the other Decepticons and how he's willing to abandon his men if it benefits him. Once they get back to base, the wounded Seeker is ripped apart in order to repair Teletraan-1 with his parts.

In Issue #13, Starscream mentions that he and his "brothers" are refusing to join a side, clearly referring to Thundercracker and Skywarp. This makes Starscream and Soundwave tearing Skywarp apart even more disturbing than it already was. Did I mention Starscream kicked Soundwave's Ravage and replaces Skywarp with Thundercracker ?

During Devastator's attack on The Ark, Starscream is shot by Carly, only to be spared by Cliffjumper. (Mind you he killed Cliff's entire clan.) Just when he's about to kill Carly in a similar fashion to her father's death, he's accidentally injured by the combiner.

After being challenged by Soundwave in a fight for leadership over the Decepticons in Issue #7, Starscream has his eye gouged by Laserbeak and gets tossed into an active volcano.

It isn't until issue #13 where we see what happens to him and and how he came to be. Prior to the war, Starscream was a blue-eyed scientist named Ulchtar and was friends with Jetfire and a Decepticon named Genvo.

After Jetfire leaves Cybertron, a battle erupts outside Ulchtar's lab before a stray missile destroys the building. Genvo grabs his friend and runs, but gets shot by none other than Optimus Prime himself. Ulchtar is praised by his friend for "screaming the stars into seeing us" before dying in his arms.

With his work destroyed and his friend dead, Ulchtar ponders his future until Megatron approaches him and offers revenge for Genvo and his clan as a Decepticon. Upon being asked what his brothers called him, Ulchtar's eyes turn red and, inspired by his friend's dying words, answers "My name- is Starscream".

A fun little detail I love about this backstory is that both Optimus and Megatron are responsible for Ulchtar's transformation into Starscream.

Ulchtar is a more sympathetic and likeable character. Rather than the treacherous power-hungry homocidal maniac we all know and love, he's somewhat a juvenile delinquent (hence his innocent baby blue eyes) and a bit haughty, self-assured and overly confident (kinda like Maverick in the Top Gun films). When meeting Megatron, his eyes change from blue to red, showing the end of his innocence and the beginning of his corruption.

Issue #14's preview shows Starscream getting fused to a tank by the M.A.R.S. salvage team after getting his legs burned off in the previous issue.

I guess he's Cybertronian Charles Xavier now.

[cinerins]

2003 Clone Wars is so-so, but I have to admit, it's fun and it has a ton of little scenarios I really appreciate as a former Star Wars kid

Such as the ARC trooper segments, Mace Windu tearing up an entire droid army, and not to mention Jedi wearing full armor for certain battles!! Love that they kept their capes/cloaks to distinguish them, it's all so dramatic

Speaking of—Based on what I remember of later instances, I actually prefer this one's depiction of Ventress and Grievous

Grievous comes closer to a creepy crawly version of Vader, but it honestly works really well for the setup. He actually feels dangerous and somewhat unpredictable, giving multiple Jedi a real struggle despite his lack of any Force talent

For Ventress, I enjoyed the way she acted more ambitious, arrogant and immature—like a mirror to Anakin's character. In that way, I thought she actually would've made a fun counterpart to him, if they had kept that direction in the later show

Also her design?? Shout out to this dramatic little cloak, it's so endearing

There's more I could talk about, but honestly my thoughts just keep coming back to the best Cody moment in the entire franchise. Should've let him use his jetpack more what a goober

[vxsellie]

‧₊˚┊simple living things﹗

a hunger games!au ellie williams fanfiction.⌇𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭 𝔵𝔳𝔦𝔦𝔦

summary. As the Gamemakers grow bored with the show, they begin to stir chaos among the tributes. Separation, suicide, and slaughter.

content warnings. descriptions of blood and gore. graphic depictions of murder. intrusive, violent thoughts. more death. implications of grief and loss. mentions of an impending war. descriptions of suicide !!!

total wc. 5,602

notes!! once again, reminder that it's better read on ao3!

𝜗𝜚 series masterlist ⸝⸝ playlist ⸝⸝ ao3 𝜗𝜚

DAY SIX. 

THE ARENA.

Bolts of fire tear through your muscles, sending sparks of pain up your legs. The forest whizzes past you, hues of browns and greens blurring together in your peripheral. You hop over roots and weave between trees, having no destination in mind so long as it’s away from the cave. 

Still, despite all of which that invades your thoughts, the faces of two people remain scorched into the marrow of your skull. Ellie and Remy. They’re the reason you’re doing this—putting your own life in danger for the safety of theirs. It’s stupid. It’s so, so fucking stupid. And yet, here you are. 

You wonder what your mother would say.

“There!” Nolan shouts. He’s roughly seven yards away. 

Mere seconds later, a neon arrow slices the side of your thigh. You suck in a sharp breath, then duck behind a nearby tree, using its overlarge trunk to your advantage. You press your back into the bark, looking down at the gash across your skin. It tore a hole through your jeans and stained the denim red with your shed blood. You just washed these pants.

You silently bend down to scoop up a bit of soil before smearing it over the open wound, allowing the sediment to clot the blood. It’s nasty and might even lead to an infection, but it’s the best you can do for now. 

“Come out, come out,” Thalia drawls in a sing-song tone. You can practically hear the sadistic smile in her voice. “You can’t hide forever, Y/n, you’re smart enough to know that much.”

Your jaw tightens on its hinges, irritation flaring up in your chest. You can’t keep running like this, not with your legs and lungs aching as they have been.

Your hand finds the hilt of your sword, the rough material having become a rather comforting one—which is rather funny because, in all honesty, you were never the biggest fan of swords before the arena. You had thought them to be too big and to have taken too much time to draw from their scabbard. Though, when put in taxing circumstances such as this, your opinion turned out to not be as solidified as you’d once thought.

Metal sings against its sheath as you draw your weapon, taking only a few moments to adjust it in your hands before appearing from behind your tree. Thalia, Nolan, and Ashley all stand at a safe distance, three sets of eyes already pinned onto you. Ashley’s gaze flicks down to your sword, her expression hardening within an instant. Concomitantly, Thalia and Nolan closely watch your every move. 

Like three lions hunting their prey. You’ve all been reduced to caged animals who’re sent to attack one another. Untamed, beastly, savage animals.

And the Capitol watches from home, eyes wide and chest aflutter. It’s fucking sadistic and you wish, more than anything, that there was a way out of this. But there’s not. There never is and never will be. Cruelty such as this is a fact of life in the arena—kill or be killed. Simple as that. And, unsure of their intentions, you don’t particularly wish to die. 

Four quick steps forward and your sword is arcing through the air. It finds purchase in Nolan’s ribs, then slices sharply across his stomach. He lets out a guttural scream, certainly drawing the attention of any surrounding clickers. He catches Thalia’s attention as well. She comes barreling toward you, axe clutched tight in her hand.

You backpedal, putting distance between Thalia and yourself. Then, with a tightened grip on your sword, you spin on your heel and take off into the woods. 

Thalia gives chase easily, falling victim to your plan of separating the trio. 

Only one sound can be heard within the forest and it’s the rage of a woman bested twice; the rage of Thalia Thatcher. Raised by a Peacekeeper father and a Gamemaker mother, her wrath won’t be so easily evaded. On top of this, you’re rather certain that the viewers are loving every second of your guys’ encounters—especially considering Thea and Ruben are both Victors and both Mentors and both fighting for your lives. 

You continue to run and run and run, allowing the heat of the world to weigh upon your shoulders and your skin. Your thigh pains you, as do your lungs and your ankle. Still, you push on. Your ears ring with the sound of Thalia’s threats and your own heavy breathing. This atmosphere only breaks when two cannons, only seconds apart, slice through the arena. 

Two cannons; two tributes; two bodies; two graves; two dead. 

Two faces pierce through your mind. 

Your attention falters. Only for a second. 

Still, a second is long enough for the Gamemakers to yank a root into your path. It snags the toe of your shoe, sending you sprawling toward the ground. Your sword is ejected from your palm, flying in the opposite direction. You groan, pushing up on your hands.

“Haha!” Thalia’s laughter rings through your aching skull, pulling your gaze toward the platinum haired woman stalking toward you with an axe swinging from her fingers. Two axes were put in the Cornucopia. One for Riley, one for Ellie. And yet, Thalia is the one who holds it.

You hurriedly crawl toward your sword, hands and knees absorbing the soil beneath you. Your fingers just begin to graze the hilt when Thalia stomps her heel into the small of your back. Your stomach is shoved into the ground, all the air punching from your lungs in an instant. She then crouches down to grab a fistful of your hair, yanking your head backward. Your head snaps up, chest heaving.

“Ready to surrender, miss Diamond?” She inquires in a tone sickeningly sweet.

In a hoarse voice, you manage to grunt out two words. “Fuck. You.”

She tuts before lifting her foot so as to slam it back down even harder than the first time. She centers the brunt of her heel into your spine, shooting a bolt of pain through your body. Then, with her hand still in your hair, she slams your face into the dirt. Your mouth is instantly filled with Earth, sediment and blood splaying across your tongue. 

You heave a cough, reaching your hands up blindly toward Thalia’s face. She easily leans out of reach, laughing again. “C’mon now, Y/n. Where’s that little girl who fought for her brother at the beach all those years ago? Everyone loved her.”

“She got lost.” You crane your head to the side, peering up at her through a combination of fatigue and rage. “You could ask your sister, though. She knows all about gettin’ lost, huh? Not that she got out o’that maze on her own—“

Your words are cut off by Thalia slamming your head into the ground again, causing blood to accumulate from your newly split lip. Her voice nearly trembles with anger. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s funny.” You rasp. “I’m quite certain that you’re th’only person who still believes Thea didn’t cheat her Games.”

“My sister isn’t a cheater!” Thalia shouts. Despite the certainty in her tone, you don’t miss the way her hand tightens against your scalp. Almost as though she’s desperate to believe her own words. Seeking a new topic, Thalia searches her mind for a way to turn this around. “Thea used the cards she was dealt. You can’t judge her for that, either, can you? You used Ellie and Remy for your own gain. Used them to get yourself sponsors.”

It takes only a split second for the past tense of her words to invoke a deep sense of anger within you. They’re not dead. They’re not. And yet Thalia speaks as though they are, for she knew that doing so would elicit this exact reaction—which is proven by the grin that works its way into her lips. 

Fueled by anger, you jerk your head backward. The back of your skull slams into her nose, causing her hands to fly to her face. She lets out a groan of pain, noticing the thin stream of blood trickling from her nose. 

You’re quick to use this moment of weakness to your advantage. You twist your torso around, wrapping your legs around her body and forcing her beneath you. You mock the same position Selene had one held you in, pinning her wrists with your knees and her neck with your hand.

“They’re gone,” She grunts out, grinning up at you despite the blood that coats her teeth. “They’re gone and you can’t do a damn thing about it.”

Your grip on her neck tightens, “They're fine.”

“Really?” She leans up, uncaring for the way your hand prevents airflow. Thalia’s voice is a hoarse rasp when she speaks next. “Where d’ya think Cooper is?”

Your expression drops in an instant, all the blood draining from your face at the thought. Cooper—the small boy that the Careers took a liking to during training; he had a tiny frame but a willpower strong enough to counteract it—is he even capable of murder? Of killing two people who, even together, can barely walk? 

The image flashes through your mind. Cooper, bloody and trembling as he stares down at the two bodies at his feet. Remy, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, ashy hair painted crimson. Ellie, dulled green eyes and clipped wings. 

Using your free hand, you reach down to your thigh holster—which once matched Ellie’s—and you draw the dagger from its leather pocket. Then, before Thalia can even think to utter another word, you retract your hand and drag the blade across her neck. Fully, this time. Warm liquid soaks your skin, sticky and grotesque. You then shove her limp head into the ground before pushing to your feet, leaving the woman there to choke on her fate. 

You’d just slipped the dagger back into your holster when the cannon goes off. At the sound, clickers begin to stir. They croak and shriek, running around like headless chickens in search of the sound’s source. You walk silently toward your sword as the zombies tear through the foliage aimlessly.

Lake, You think to yourself, Get to the lake. They’ll be there. They’ll be there. 

14:51.

SAINT MARY’S HALL.

They’re alive.

God, the Gamemakers have truly outdone themselves today. Not only do they have the viewers hooked on your encounter with the Careers, but they’re balancing between many other tributes—Nolan and Ashley as they try to patch up Nolan’s wound with leaves and sticks; Lev and Yara as they struggle to keep the clickers out of their makeshift shelter; Sam and Henry, who are wounded and also being chased by mutts; Ellie as she attempts to keep Remy alive and away from David.

Those two cannons hadn’t been who you believed them to be. In place of Ellie and Remy, it’d been Roland and Archie.

Although Ruben knows this, you don’t. Nor does Ellie. It’s rather evident that you’re both fearful of the other’s death. Ruben thinks it’s tragic to watch, but everyone else in the Hall seems enraptured by the romance story, leaning forward in anticipation. It’s rather sickening, the way the Capitolites watch the two of you with wide eyes and even wider smiles. Can’t they not see that this is torture?

Roland and Archie once provided the audience with their romantic entertainment. Though, now that they’re dead, you and Ellie are all they have left in terms of romance. Only last year, romance was a foreign notion within the arena. This year, it is all anyone cares for. Well, aside from Thea—who has yet to stop crying. Ruben feels pity for her, though that emotion is well overweighed by the relief he feels regarding your survival. Even if it means Thalia’s death.

Archie was the first to die. 

He’d been bit by a mutt—which means the Gamemakers had a hand in his demise. They likely did it for you, too, in hopes that it’d draw out the love story they’re playing on. They’re fools, all of them, as they remain blissfully unaware that it’s all an act. 

Roland grieved him greatly. In fact, it reminded Ruben of an old Greek myth his mother read to him when he was a kid. The story of Achilles. Not the beginning, though, but the end. The grief of his best friend, Patroclus. He’d loved the story when he was a child. He read every retelling and ogled at every painting. He, personally, had deemed them lovers rather than friends—though his mother said it was a preposterous idea. It’s not, though. Not when Homer had written, “Patroclus has fallen—he whom I valued more than all others, and love as dearly as my own life?” Yeah, they were lovers. And their souls were trapped within two fallen tributes. 

Roland and Archie refused to give the Capitol a show. No kisses, no hugs, no lingering stares. They simply survived together—curling up only for warmth, sharing food only for sustenance, speaking words only when necessary. Still, Capitolites crowded their screens as they waited for something to happen, waited for one of them to give in. Only did that happen, though, when Death knocked on their door.

They trekked through the city, Archie following behind Roland as rubble shifted under their boots. Their gazes were pinned forward, silence enveloping them both in a tight squeeze. Archie had been susceptible to getting lost in his own mind, always thinking and never fully present. It was endearing, Ruben thought, but it inevitably led to his own demise. 

Neither of them heard the clicker. 

Archie, too lost in his own head; Roland, too far in walking ahead. Only when its teeth sank into Archie’s neck did they notice its presence. At the sound of his lover’s scream, Roland was instantly dropping everything in order to be by his side. 

The Hall was completely silent as Capitolites and mentors alike pinned their wide eyes to the screen, interested in the boys finally showing a sign of their love.

Archie thudded against the ground at the same time as the mutt—which now had Roland’s sickle sticking out of its rotted cranium. Archie stared up at the sky, eyes dull and teary. Roland was suddenly on his knees beside him, lips parted as his breath came quicker and quicker with each passing second. Archie lifted a hand, though it only moved a few inches before falling back to his side. Roland pressed a palm over Archie’s wound, attempting to stop the blood flow. 

But they were smart. They both knew it was too late. They both knew nothing could be done.

“Ro–” Archie’s voice was barely a whisper, everything in his body struggling to fit his lips around the syllables of his lover’s name.

“Shh,” Roland sounded, casting a bloodied hand through Archie’s hair. He swallowed harshly, blinking down at the dying boy before him. “Shh, shh.”

Archie opened his mouth again but, this time, no words escaped him. Roland removed his hands from Archie’s body. His eyes remained pinned to him as he reached behind himself, fingers wrapping around a chunk of rubble. A sharp rock. 

“You deserve rest,” Roland murmured, “Rest, love. Rest.”

The Capitolites adored the scene, crying and mourning alongside Roland as they watched Archie slowly vacate the world. Well, until the cannon went off. Not because the sound made them regret it, but because it wasn’t three seconds later that Roland slammed the rock against his own skull. It was once, twice, thrice before he slumped against the ground. Then came the second cannon. Saint Mary’s Hall was deathly silent after having witnessed Roland’s suicide.

The screen shifted back to you, zooming in on the fear that worked its way onto your features. And, just like that, the Capitolites no longer cared for the tragedy that is Roland and Archie. They, instead, focused back on you and Thalia, thirsty for more, more, more violence. 

The Gamemakers were quick to cause mayhem after that, for they needed to add as much action as possible in order to draw the viewers’ attention away from the death of Roland. They sent mutts toward the tributes who needed it the least—you, who was already wounded and struggling; Lev, who was taking care of his amputee sister; Henry, who was carrying a sleeping Sam on his back; Ellie, who was trying to subtly put as much distance between Remy and David as possible. 

Needless to say, their tactic worked. The Capitolites were quick to focus on this new distraction as everyone on the screen struggled to keep themselves safe from the man-eating corpses.

Not Thea, though, who is now walking up to Ruben’s table.

She pulls out the chair across from him, settling down into it with a clenched jaw and lidded eyes. Her platinum hair is slightly mused and small bits of mascara are smeared under her icy eyes. She leans her elbows on the table. 

“My baby sister is dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Thea.” He replies with an expression of sorrow. “Truly, I—”

“Don’t.” She demands. His mouth snaps shut and he leans back in his chair, nodding for her to speak. Her eyes slide shut and she exhales a deep breath before reopening them. “You have been a Victor since you were thirteen, yes?” He nods. “Due to this, you should know how the Capitol works by now. You should know of how they purposely pit people against one another so as to create entertainment for themselves. And you should know that they won’t refrain from murdering children in order to do so. Is this correct?”

Ruben remains silent. In his entire life, he has only shared a few short conversations with Thea and none of them have ever been as weighty as this one. For her to so much as mention the cruelty of the Capitol could get her hanged for schemes of conducting treason. Is this a plan of hers to get him arrested? Or is she speaking with genuinity? Not to mention the cryptic conversation he had with Cat the other day about the Fireflies. There’s a rebellion forming and speaking of things like this can jeopardize the entire country.

Thea narrows her eyes at him, amusement flashing behind her irises. “I ask this not to villainize you, Ruben, but to know which side of the war you plan to be on.”

His heart stops in his chest.

“War?”

DAY SIX.

THE ARENA.

Three cannons. 

Three cannons have gone off in the past half hour and Ellie has every reason to believe one of them belonged to you. She trusts your strength and everything, sure, but she has had such terrible luck up until this point that she genuinely disbelieves you to have survived. She’s not lucky enough to see your face again.

She still doesn’t trust you. Not fully, anyway. She’s unsure that she will ever trust someone with her entire being again. She’ll trust them with her belongings, her confidence, her life even. But not the way she trusted Riley. Not in totality.

Ellie still sees her, sometimes. In the dark of night when the rays of moonlight seem to form a figure of silver; in the birth of morning, when birds are singing hymns of loss and love. She sees her now, too, when clickers begin to crowd the lake at the sound of the cannons. They’re on edge, searching aimlessly for its source with wide mouths and twitching limbs. 

“This way!” David suddenly grabs Ellie by the wrist and begins to tug her North.

She yanks her wrist from his hold, brows creasing. “We’re not following you.”

“Yeah.” Remy chimes in despite the light trembling to his voice. She can't blame him for that, though. Not when the clickers are getting closer with every passing second. “I’m waiting for Y/n.”

“What you’re doin’ is suicide.” David snaps.

He steps toward Remy and Ellie instantly tears her dagger from its holster. The point of the blade is pressing into David’s chest within seconds. She takes a step forward, pressing it deeper into his skin. “Do not talk to him like that.”

David holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m just bein’ honest.”

“You’re bein’ a dick.”

“Call me what ya want, but there’s no way we’ll survive another five minutes at this lake.” He tells her, lowering his voice so Remy can’t hear. “If you truly have that boy’s best interest at heart, you’ll come with me.”

Her gaze flicks to Remy—with his bandaged calf and his wide eyes—before drifting back to David—with his machete and his beady eyes. Ellie’s lips thin in suspicion. “Where would you be taking us?”

“To safety.” A grin works its way onto David’s chapped mouth. 

Ellie presses the dagger deeper into his chest. “Don’t fuck with me, old man.”

“Fine.” He gives in easily. “I’d be takin’ ya’ll to a building I found in the city. It ain’t too far from here, just over the fence.”

Ellie looks over his shoulder toward the direction he’d tried to pull her toward. She can see the fence from here—chain link and only a football field or two away. 

She wants to stay here and wait for you, she does. But, firstly, she’s not even certain you’re still alive and, secondly, she does have Remy’s best interest at heart. And for him to stay here would be a death sentence for sure. 

Not only that, but the clickers are getting closer and she’s still not good under pressure.

“Fine.” She says, removing the dagger from David’s chest. “Take us there.”

Remy’s head snaps toward Ellie at the sound of those words. “What?! We can’t leave Y/n!”

“We’re not negotiating.” She grumbles, grabbing his hand.

“No!” He staggers backward to get away from her. “I’m not leaving!”

“Quit being difficult!” She shouts. “This is what she would want!”

“Fuck you, I’m not going anywhere without her!”

Ellie shoves her dagger into her thigh holster before crouching down and wrapping her arms around his hips. She hoists him into the air before shoving his back into David’s chest. “If you want to make yourself useful, carry him.”

“Sure thing.” David grins before wrapping his arms around the boy and pinning his body against him. 

Ellie might not trust David a single bit, but she’s not stupid enough to deny his help. Especially considering the stab wound in her gut—which makes her rather useless when it comes to carrying Remy or walking long distances. Despite this, the three of them take off toward the fence in the distance.

David is fast. 

Too fast for someone with a fatal injury to keep up with, at least. His haste causes her feet to stumble beneath her body, her boots catching on the wet soil and heightened roots. And, a few yards back, clickers tear through the foliage in search of prey.

She doesn’t have a good feeling about David—his smile is too wide, his laugh is too forced, and his eyes don’t glint in the sun. It’s almost as if the sunlight simply cannot reach him at all, like he’s too dark of a figure to be illuminated by its brilliance. 

And, in Ellie’s humble opinion, that is more than enough evidence for her to loathe his very being. Not necessarily for her own pride, though, but for Remy’s safety. Because it didn’t evade her notice the way David eyed the boy when he first laid eyes on the pair at the lake. The mere thought of what David could be planning draws Ellie’s fingers to her dagger. 

Remy acted like a complete asshole on their way to the lake, but she knows better than to blame him. Especially considering all he’s been through in these past few days—he nearly drowned in the only body of water in the arena, he had to stand aside while you almost bled to death, he beared witness to Dahlia being killed by someone she trusted, and now he’s forced to be with Ellie whilst they both worry for the loss of your soul. If he wants to be an ass, so be it. She wasn’t that good of a kid at his age, either.

Clickers continue to swarm the terrain as David leads Ellie behind him. Running like this causes pure agony to shoot through her body with every step, though she doesn’t dare utter a word of complaint for fear that David will use any knowledge of her injury against her. 

Suddenly, the chain link fence comes into view. It resides just at the cusp of the thin woods that embody the lake. On the other side, the city, safety.

“Here,” David releases Remy and presses his spine against the fence. He crouches down, bringing his hands together between his hips. He looks at her expectantly.

“I’m fine.” She tells him with a sharpened scowl. He accepts this, turning his gaze to Remy instead. Again, she denies him. “I’ll help Remy over.”

David nods kindly, though she’s quick to notice the little twitch to his jaw as he steps away from the fence. He accepted her demand easily, but Ellie knows it’s due only to the fact that he already knows the reason—she doesn’t want him lying a finger on Remy. With this in mind, she takes David’s place against the metal. She crouches down and clasps her hands in front of her. Remy comes forward without question, bracing a hand on each of her shoulders before stepping a foot into her palms. She hauls him upward and he hooks his hands onto the top of the fence, swaying there for a moment before managing to wedge his feet between the chain links. 

From there, he climbs. His breathing grows a bit faster and his movements become hesitant. Ellie begins to worry if he has a fear of heights that she hadn’t been made aware of. However, before she’s able to ask him anything about it, he lands on the other side with a grunt. He winces a bit as his feet hit the ground, the ointment on his calf long since having worn off. 

“Ladies first.” David says slyly, holding his arms out in a mock curtsy. Ellie brushes past him without a word, clearly unamused by his attempt at humor. 

She removes the backpack from her sunburnt shoulders—which she’d taken from Remy as soon as she spotted David at the lake, just in case they’d have to run—and hoists it over the fence. The strain it takes to do so elicits a nearly unbearable pain in her stomach, the skin around her wound tearing like paper. She places a hand atop it but remains perfectly silent, though an abundance of crude words dance through her mind. 

“You alright?” David asks, craning his neck a bit forward to peer at Ellie’s face as he awaits her reply. His beady eyes drill holes into the side of her skull. He only looks away when she turns and shoots him a sharp look.

Ellie grabs onto the thin metal links and begins to pull herself upward, slotting her feet into place. She climbs it with practiced ease and, for a second—albeit miniscule—she glances over her shoulder in hopes of finding Riley. Her heart sinks when she finds David standing in her place. 

See, they used to do this all the time—hop fences. They’d do it to skip school almost every day, slipping past the Peacekeepers and entering the woods. Riley would keep watch while Ellie hauled their bags and their bodies over the barrier. Now, though, she’s coming to realize that’s a situation in which she’ll never be lucky enough to experience again.

Rubble shifts under her boots as she lands in the gravel beside Remy. He gives her a small smile, kind yet reluctant. She returns it with a curt nod before scooping the bag up from the ground. She swings it over her shoulder and, while David is distracted with the arduous task of getting his old ass over the fence, she unzips it. What she finds inside, however, isn’t what she’d expected.

“Remy.” She mutters to the boy, who turns with a frown of curiosity. She levels him a look, jabbing a finger at the contents of the backpack. “This is the wrong bag.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” He whispers back in self-defense. “Y/n took the other one and, seeing as it had the ointment, I didn’t think to question it.”

Ellie groans at his insolence. “It’s pretty fucking obvious which bag is which when hers is stuffed with a sleeping bag.”

“Just use her stuff, then. Quit complaining.” He waves a hand with such dismissiveness that it reminds her of you. Just then, David lands on the ground, but she’s long since lost interest in anything that pertains to that man.

Ellie scoffs, turning her attention back to the bag. She begins to dig through the supplies, feeling around in search of the salve. However, as her fingers skim along the bottom of the pack, an odd texture meets her palm—almost like a leaf. She shifts the bag to her front, peering inside. Her eyes narrow at the darkened interior, struggling to make out what resides within. Carefully, she pulls the leafy item into the outside air.

Her heart catches in her throat. 

A smushed, wilted daisy. She recognizes it in an instant to be one of the flowers that Riley had picked for Ellie; one of the flowers Ellie demanded you remove from her bag; one of the flowers that carry such pressing weight with them that her chest begins to ache.

You kept them.

“Alrighty, kids,” David says while brushing off his hands, tone deepened as though he holds any form of authority over the two of them. “I think it’s about time we get out of here.”

DAY SIX.

THE ARENA.

You’re running again. And it’s beginning to feel like that’s all you do anymore—run and bleed and fight. The gash in your thigh is beginning to grow unbearable, sending jolts of pain down the length of your leg. But you need to get to the lake; you need to be sure they’re alive.

Somewhere along the way, the Gamemakers formulated a raincloud and the gentle drizzle gave way to a heavy downpour. You can barely see where you’re going with the amount of water in your eyes. Not only that, but you’ve slipped and fallen more times than you care to admit. 

Your boots squelch in the mud with each step, making it nearly impossible to evade any heightened roots. And, for the sixth time, one of them grabs your ankle and sends you flying toward the ground. You groan, pushing up onto your knees. Then, without a moment’s waste, you lift to your feet and resume your sprint toward the lake. 

One hand holds your sword while the other wipes a muddy hand across your eyes in an attempt to clear them of water, but you only succeed in causing a burning sensation to jab at your retinas. You blink repeatedly, tipping your head upward so the rain might wash the dirt from your eyes. 

Instead, you result in slamming your chest into something solid. You stop in your tracks and snap your head downward to face the something in question. A human figure. You can’t quite make out who it is, but the glint of a weapon catches the light as they lift it up in defense. Their hands are shaking.

You take a step forward, holding your empty hand out. Your eyes squint as you try to identify the person to be friend or foe. “Calm down, okay? Let’s just—”

At the sight of your nearing proximity, they lash out. They slash their weapon across your arm, sending searing pain up your arm. You stagger backward as blood spits from your forearm. You curse under your breath.

Your head is already spinning. 

With thoughts of Ellie’s unburied corpse. Thoughts of Remy’s mourning parents. Thoughts of the infection that’s certain to have spread through your thigh. Thoughts of Thalia’s sister watching you kill her. Thoughts of your newly sliced wrist.

In a haze of dizziness and pain, you swing your sword. It arcs across their neck, drawing their hands upward in an aimless attempt to stop the bleeding. Then they fall to their knees and choke on their fate. You step forward, grab them by the chin, and lean closer to get a good look at their face. 

Oh.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

You release his face and stumble backward. Your eyes begin to burn and you blame it on the residual dirt, but you know that’s not true. You know it’s the consequence of murdering a child, a kid.

Cooper Whitlock’s lifeless corpse remains wide-eyed and bloodied as he bears witness to your instantaneous self loathing. 

You somehow end up on your knees, one hand on your stomach and the other pressing a palm into the mud. Then you vomit. 

You should have expected this. 

You should have known this would happen. All the rage and anger in your heart would eventually become too much, causing you to do something so disgustingly morbid that you can barely stomach the thought of yourself. 

Ruben warned you of this. He warned you so many times, telling you to take life in small dosages and to not let your anger suffocate you. 

Because people are willing to do horrible things to survive. 

[post] notes!! i fear i haven't written for SLT in two weeks so if my writing seems off, that's why! i have a reason tho: i was writing a new fic—which will be coming out in (hopefully) may. if not, then the very beginning of june. i'm super excited for u guys to read that story bc i'm 1000% sure it'll make u cry !! 😚 anyway, special thanks to u guys bc i asked u guys to send me asks abt SLT & it rlly helped to boost my motivation for writing this. love u guys <3

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[cherryriotcrash]

Yellow

Look at the stars, look how the shine for you and everything you do! Yeah, they were all yellow.

Ao3 | Ko-Fi | Join the Taglist | Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Summary: Katsuki loves the type of woman who could just kill a man, even it it's just a little one

Chapter Warnings: almost entirely smut, Katsuki Bakugo is better at explaining his feelings, Katsuki Bakugo has excellent head game, Katsuki Bakugo has the filthiest deep stroke known to man.

FINAL WAR ARC SPOILER IS REFERENCED

18+ | Minors and ageless blogs DNI

All characters depicted are mid 20s or older.

By proceeding beyond this checkpoint, you confirm that you are over the age of 18, consent to seeing dark/explicit material, and acknowledge that my work is not available for reproduction, repost, or re-adaptation on any social media.

Nobody could ever say, with full seriousness, that Katsuki Bakugo did not become a patient man as he aged.

The level of personal restraint and control required to wait until the end of the gala to get his hands on you was worthy of an award in and of itself, never mind the ones he had won for Save of the Year with Izuku and Denki, and for best smile (a rare grin, captured by a pap and plastered on an article titled Dynamight’s Swarovski Smile: Has Someone Got The Hero’s Heart?, speculating on everything from a rekindling with Camie to a polyamorous relationship with Mina and Eijiro). Honestly, if the press thinks he has a Swarovski smile, they should see his wife—

Katsuki blinks to himself.

Wife? Where the fuck did that come from?

He trailed his fingers across your shoulders absentmindedly, drawing a soft hum out of you. You turned away from your conversation with Mina to smile at him softly and press a kiss the curve of his jaw, and he doesn’t know if the booze hit all at once or if it’s the late hour, but he swears you’ve never been more beautiful than right goddamn now, sat leaning into him just so and blushing slightly as your best friend praises you on your own win for Breakout Hero of the Year.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

He made himself a liar thirty minutes later in your hotel room, taking in the sight of your skin in the dim, flickering lights of the candles next to the bed.

He leaned back, and suddenly you felt something drip onto the base of your spine, hot enough to sting but cool enough to remain pleasurable. The moan that slips out is involuntary on your part, and Katsuki hums, “Good moan or bad?”

“Very good.”

He hummed again, “Good.”

Katsuki tipped the candle again, and a few more droplets trailed up your spine. You heard him put the candle’s tin back down, then felt hot hands glide up your sides, thumbs tracing up your spine as he spread the massage oil over your skin and kneading into tense muscles until you’re almost limp.

When he pressed a kiss to the base of your spine, the swear you let out sounded almost slurred.

In response, he smirked and dragged his hands over the globes of your ass, spreading them apart to stare at your pussy, shiny with slick. He drags hot fingers through the sticky mess, cooing at you when your hips shift with a groan, “You’re dripping all over yourself, was it that good for you?”

“Kats…please.”

He propped your hips up with a pillow and buried his face in you, long tongue lapping at you, trailing from your clit to your ass a few times before thrusting into your cunt. The arch in your back deepens as you push your hips back, chasing the pleasure he graciously provided you, big hands gripping your ass to give him more room to work.

You babble praises into the bedsheets as you realize everything about Katsuki is big, and he’s learned to use all of it to his advantage, pressing two thick fingers into your dripping hole, dragging his big tongue through your folds. He focuses his attention on your clit, suckling at it as you clench around his fingers, curling them until you gasp.

“That your spot, baby? Right here?”

You whined loudly, “Fffffuckatsuki, please!”

Your thighs shake and Katsuki chuckles against you, “fuck, you’re shaking…cum on my face. Be a good girl and fuckin’ give it to me so I can give you what you really want.”

For a moment, it feels like time stops.

Nothing else exists save for Katsuki, the way his fingers fuck into you, how his greedy tongue laps at you.

He groans.

You gasp.

The scale tips, and you’re screaming his name into the the sheets as he fucks you through it with his fingers and tongue. Just as you reach the border between blinding pleasure and overstimulation he pulls back. He comes untouched, face tipped to the ceiling, mouth glazed with your slick as his eyes rolled back.

“You,” he pants, “Are going to be the fucking death of me. C’mere.”

Katsuki sat with his back against the headboard, giving his cock a couple of lazy pumps before letting it rest on his stomach in favor of turning you around and guiding you into his lap, your back to his chest. He turns your head, murmuring how beautiful you are before pulling you into a deep, languid kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You whine into the kiss, slurring out a whispered, “Please, Ka’ski, need it. Need you. Need your fingers.”

Katsuki hisses, “Fuck, you’re dripping. I bet you want my cock, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” you replied, voice coming out as an airy whine, “wanna sit on it. Wanna make you feel good. Want you to cum deep inside me.”

Katsuki groaned, “Fuck, baby. ‘S all yours, take it.”

“But you just came,” you whined, “hafta wait.”

Katsuki kissed the back of your neck and chuckled, “Remember how you asked about my refractory period?”

You make a little noise of affirmation, and he slowly lowers you onto his cock, “Turns out I don’t have one. Go ahead, sit on your cock.”

You dropped your hips down as soon as his grip loosened, letting out the filthiest moan Katsuki had heard in his fucking life. You braced your hands on his thighs, riding him hard and fast. The room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, his cock rearranging your guts, your moans and his pleasured babbling.

“That’s it, baby. Ride it for me just like that, fuck it’s so wet. Love seeing your ass bounce on it, makes me wanna knock you up, baby.”

You hope he doesn’t notice the way you tighten around him, but the filthy smirk on his face lets you know otherwise. He grabs your ankles in one hand, resting them on a shoulder and snapping his hips forward, “I felt that, gorgeous. You want it, don’t you? Want me to fill you? Want this fat cock to pump you full, make you round with our baby? Ffffffffuck, yeah you do, you get so tight when I say it.”

He slides his hands to your thighs and pushes your legs back until your knees are near your ears, rolling his hips the way he knows you like, delivering the nastiest deep strokes that have tears springing to your eyes as you babble out in pleasure. He leans down to kiss at your neck, changing his angle just enough for his pelvis to grind against your clit, his neatly trimmed pubic hairs heightening the sensation as he slams into your spot. Your nails leave angry red welts down his back as you cry out.

“Suki please, I’m so close!”

Katsuki flips you onto your belly, pressing your face into the mattress as he props your hips up. As soon as he’s back inside your heat, he grips the headboard and his hips snap forward ruthlessly and he growls into your ear, “Oh fuck yes, you want it? Want me to make you a mommy? Play with that pussy for me—just like that, fuck take it take it take it ta—”

You swear you can feel him in your throat as his strokes and his voice deepen, praises devolving into stream of consciousness muttering. He bent over you, sticky chest resting on your back, and he slapped your hand away from your pretty pussy, replacing your frantic ministrations with slower, more precise circles over your clit. Your moan broke into a sob as you came, and Katsuki found himself mesmerized as he watched you come undone. His cock kicked inside you, flooding you with hot cum as he finally let out a broken, gasping moan, thrusting one final time before stilling above you.

He rolled to his back, taking you with him and kissing the top of your head. He opened his mouth to check in on you when a soft snore vibrated against his own chest. He chuckled, pulling the blanket up carefully so he didn’t disturb you, murmuring praises into your hair until sleep overtook him too.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Katsuki, are you sure?”

“Why is it,” Katsuki hissed while glaring up at his parents, “that whenever I’m so very sure about something, you always doubt me? I’ve never not been sure about anything I’ve asked you for help with.”

“Well son,” Masaru said, resting his hand on his wife’s leg, “It just seems fast. I mean…we haven’t even met her outside of facetime calls yet.”

“And I’m working on that! You have to understand we’re both pro-heroes and can’t always make time. I just…”

The tips of his ears went pink as he spoke, turning his keys over in his fingers as he sat on the couches across from his parents. He glanced up at Mitsuki, “You knew, and the old man always says I’m your carbon copy. Why is it so hard to believe that I know? I literally fought in a war, died, and came back all before the age of 18, and this is what makes the two of you double back? The last dude who died and came back got a holiday and a book, but you’re questioning if I know if she’s the one?”

Mitsuki stared at her son for a moment, then leaned over and whispered, “He knows, Masaru. Actually look at your son.”

She sat back up and turned to Katsuki, “Tell me more about her, Katsuki. I want to know her the way you know her.”

Katsuki scoffed, a rare smile in your physical absence gracing his features, “She’s…have you ever seen someone that just…you’re convinced they’re the actual center of the galaxy, the sun be damned? I…mom, I don’t deserve her. I gave her every reason to hate me. Remember when I told you I had an accident at work, and I was helping a new hire who lost their hearing? That was her. We got paired in a sparring match, and a freak accident occurred. I’m the reason she’s hard of hearing…and she defended me immediately after. [y/n] knew something wasn’t right and told off IcyHot and Aizawa, even though she hadn’t been there for more than a fucking month. She didn’t care about kissing ass; she cared about determining what happened and why, and honestly…I knew I was a goner the minute she tore into IcyHot for not warning her I have hearing aids. She doesn’t take anyone’s shit, especially mine. I mean on our very first interaction, she told me to move the hell out of her way for my own safety. The second time, she burst into the men’s locker room, kicked me in the chest, and put me in my place. I didn’t even have a comeback! She was right and just…shut me up. Sometimes I lash out or my frustration is building and she sees it. She sees it before I even see it sometimes, and she just…neutralizes it.”

“She sounds like she’s great for you, son,” Masaru said, “and a great person all around.”

“Great? She’s perfect, pops, like mainlining pure sunlight. She doesn’t…” Katsuki stares down at his hands, swallowing down the sudden lump in his throat, “She doesn’t treat me like I’m an inherently a weapon or a ticking time bomb. I don’t scare her. I never have. I’ve lost my temper on the job and she just…slipped her little hand in mine. Literal ground zero for carnage and she just…trusted me not to hurt her. Even when I’m sweaty and just coming home from patrol, more than once she’s seen I’ve had a terrible day and she’s kissed my palm. She kissed my palm and pressed my hand to her cheek and looked at me like I’m the greatest thing she’s ever seen. I could go on for hours about her, and I can confidently say I’m crazy about her.”

Masaru looked Katsuki over, took in the pink tint to his face and ears, the faint tremor in his normally surgically steady hands, the look in his eyes softer than he’s ever seen them when he spoke about you. He sees his son sniffle and subtly wipe his eyes, pretending to scratch his nose.

“So,” He says after a few moments of silence, “What do you need from your mother and I?”

Katsuki looks up at his father and they swear their son glows.

 “I…I don’t know a damn thing about rings. I don’t know how to passively get her ring size, I don’t know what she likes, I’ve seen her old wedding set in pictures of her from years ago, but I don’t want to get her anything like it. I want her to have something unique, and beautiful. Something from me, something nobody else has.”

Mitsuki got up and sat next to her son, taking his large hand in both of hers, “You know, I still remember when both of your hands fit in one of mine, and now look at you. My Katsuki is all grown up, he’s a big-shot hero and in love…leave the ring sizing to me. I have my ways.”

Previous Chapter

[hottpinkpenguin]

Until My Bones Have Turned to Leaves - Ch.2

Joe Liebgott (BoB) X Fem!SoldierReader Part 2 of ? | Part 1 here! WC: 1808 Warnings: depictions of war; cursing; not proofread; non-canon Taglist: @imafckingbitch @aliciax3 @needf0rspeed

You saw it all in slow motion. In the cold, dark night, Pvt Jackson yanked the pin out of his grenade, the soft metallic click a familiar sound to your ears. He recoiled his arm to throw the grenade into the open window of the building. You could hear snippets of guttural German from inside, including a man’s brittle laughter, and the clinking of cutlery. They’re eating, you thought with a pang something almost like pity. In a few instants, they’d be dead.  

Jackson’s grenade left his hand, sailing through the night in a graceful arc. It soared over the fence surrounding the building and leapt through the glass-less window into the inviting lamplight of the room beyond. For a split second, no one noticed. The Germans kept talking, the patrol outside held their breath, and the grenade landed with an ominous clunk. 

In the same instant that the Germans inside let out a cry of surprise, Pvt Jackson was moving. Too soon, your instincts screamed. You grabbed clumsily at the back of his jacket, but the cold made your fingers feeble and fumbly. The fabric slipped through your grasp. He kept moving forward, mounting the small set of stairs in front of the door to the immediate right of where his grenade had only just disappeared. He confidently kicked the door in, warm light spilling into the night air outside.

You lunged forward with the intention of wrapping your arms around Jackson to prevent him from kicking in the door before his grenade detonated. You managed the first part of your plan - got your arms wrapped around his wiry torso - but his momentum carried the both of you forward. 

You heard Bull yell behind you, a garbled mix of “wait!” and “no!” 

The grenade detonated a heartbeat later. Jackson absorbed the explosion in full, but you felt the bite of shrapnel and heat on your hands and forearms where they snaked around the front of his chest. Both of you were thrown backwards. He landed heavily on the top step of the entryway, but your feet slipped on the icy stone, and then air. For a moment, you were suspended. Somewhere beside you, Bull’s booming voice. You heard a gunshot, then another. 

You collided with the frozen ground, a sharp lighting rod of pain ripping up your back. Your head snapped backwards against the earth, and all turned to black… 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

“Patrol’s back.”

Joe’s lip curled at Hoobler’s idiotic observation. 

“Gee, Hoob, you don’t say.” Everyone ignored the sarcastic bite in Joe’s voice. The men were on their feet, shuffling quickly to the street outside in search of the returning patrol. Joe hadn’t moved from the dust-ridden armchair he’d sunk into shortly after dinner. His neck ached and there was a pounding headache forming behind his eyes. No one in Easy Company was a stranger to the risks of warfare at this point, but the stakes of this patrol, after everything they’d endured in Bastogne, was a cruel knife-twist to the ribs. Nobody in Easy wanted to be in that patrol, but they hated being left behind even more. At least when they were all together, they could look out for each other. Pack mentality, Joe heard Lt. Speirs call it. The drive to move as one, fight as a unit, protect each other. This patrol had separated them, splintered off a small group to face danger alone. And now, as if proving the mens’ suspicions, something had gone wrong.

In the street outside on Easy’s side of the river, the distant sound of agony shattered the quiet of the pre-dawn dark. Someone was injured. Someone - maybe more than one - might be dead. Those who’d been left to wait followed the anguished cries of their Company-mate through the empty streets. 

It didn’t take long to find the source of the wails. Joe, along with about a dozen others, honed in on a barn at the end of a narrow street running east-to-west through Haguenau. Joe was practically sprinting towards it, the sounds of screaming getting louder. Who is it? He didn’t recognize the voice, and for some reason his heart locked up in terror. A few meters ahead of him, he saw Malarkey duck into the barn. 

Joe got there, stepped into the quickly filling room and took in the scene. Most of the patrol members were there, clustered around Pvt Jackson writhing in pain and moaning. Doc Roe was bent over Jackson’s head and chest, murmuring quietly and smoothing the man’s hair down against his forehead in a gentle, almost maternal gesture. Joe felt a sudden burn in his eyes as his throat closed up. They’d all served with Eugene Roe long enough to read his body language. If he was barking orders at the others to ‘give me some of your morphine’ or ‘hold him down’ or anything of the sort, or if he was digging around in a bullet wound or tightening a tourniquet until his patient was screaming bloody murder, chances are the soldier could pull through. But times like this - when Doc’s voice went quiet and he stopped barking orders and his touch got gentle - meant something differently entirely. Joe wondered if Pvt Jackson knew it the way that everyone gathered in the room did. There was an eerie hush on the growing crowd, a hollow sadness in their eyes. Not the first body they’d seen, and far from the last. But this one felt wasteful in a way other deaths hadn’t. 

After a few minutes, Jackson’s cries of agony turned to unintelligible moans. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, his muscles relaxed in a way that wasn’t natural to any living thing. His eyes dulled and Doc Roe stopped stroking the man’s head. And that was that. Pvt Eugene Jackson died in agony surrounded by moldy hay and sad faces in a French town that was little more than a crossroads. A few of the men swore under their breath and ducked out of the stifling barn into the dark night outside. Joe thought to do the same, but as he ducked around Malarkey towards the door his eyes landed on Bull Randleman. Bull’s mouth was puckered into a line that threatened to turn down at the edges, his telltale cigar hanging limply from his lips. His eyes were trained on Pvt Jackson but misty, like his thoughts were elsewhere. 

The realization hit Joe like a freight train. There was more than just grief over Jackson clinging to the eyes of the men from the returned patrol. There was an empty, bombed out quality to their stares, like they were all wrapped so tightly in their own thoughts they’d suffocate. Joe hadn’t caught it before, but he did now. He was in a room full of men for the first time since you’d joined Easy outside of Nijmegen, just before Bastogne. You were gone.

“Jesus Christ, Bull.” Randleman looked disoriented for a second before his eyes found Joe’s, his gaze coming into focus as if his thoughts had to travel thousands of miles to come back to Haguenau. 

“Where the fuck is she?” Joe’s voice broke on the last syllable of his question. A few of the others who’d joined the returning patrol looked on in varying states of comprehension at the unfolding exchange. The rest of the room was silent, all eyes glued on Liebgott and Randleman. 

“I… I’m sorry, Joe. She, she took a grenade. Jackson’s grenade.” Bull’s voice sounded small and pinched. Webster, who’d served as the interpreter on the patrol, laid a hand on Bull’s shoulder as if to steady him. Bull squeezed his eyes shut against the memory of your head ricocheting off the ground like you were a ragdoll. 

“Where, Bull.” Joe felt like he was about to vibrate apart into a million pieces. Not only had this piece of shit patrol gotten one of their own killed, but they’d left someone behind. A goddamn woman, no less. You. The Angel of Bastogne. Joe had been - and continued to be - the first to decry your presence as unnatural at the Front. He stood by his feelings on that point. But he’d sooner put the barrel of his M1 down his throat and pull the trigger than consider leaving you behind in this muddy, wasteland of a crossroads. Joe knew it as deeply as he knew his own heartbeat. 

Bull just shook his head slowly and sadly. “I’m sorry, Joe. I’m sorry.” He kept repeating it, over and over again. 

“She dead?” Joe challenged, stepping towards Bull with half a mind to punch him. The air in the barn froze as a dozen men held their breath, waiting on the answer. Bull crumpled at the question, choking out a single sob as he hid his face behind a hand. The sight made Joe’s bones feel brittle like porcelain, and he blanched. His anger fizzled, turning dangerously in the direction of desperation. You couldn’t be… dead?

It was Webster who answered after a few long moments. “No. Likely not. Just concussed.”

The silence in the air deepened for a heartbeat as everyone processed Webster’s answer. The cold fist of dread in Joe’s chest burst open into black rage.

“You left her?! You fuckers left her for the Germans?! Fucking left her in the mud?! What’s wrong with you?! Fuck!” 

Unable to keep his fury compressed to words, Joe turned and struck out with his leg at a rusted out bucket that lay discarded near his feet. The bucket flew through the air and hit the planks of the barn with a crunchy thwack before clattering to the hard packed ground beneath. The clamor earned Joe some chastising from his Company-mates, a few of them grousing about ‘sound discipline’. Joe ignored them and stalked out of the barn, his hands balled into fists at his side and his vision starting to go white. His mind reeled between memories of you darting from one foxhole to the next beneath the explosions of pinewood and snow in Bastogne to snapshots of your body bent at an unnatural angle and your face plastered in the half-frozen mud on the German side of the Moder river. 

Joe’s body took him back to the house where he’d last seen you on autopilot. His hands put his gear and pack on, cleaned his rifle, and stocked up on ammo and grenades. The pale whisper of a pink dawn was peeking over the horizon when an empty-eyed Randleman and a stony-faced Webster joined him in a beeline due-east through the streets, headed towards the banks of the river and, on the other side, German-controlled territory. All the while, Joe’s mind teetered on a single, incontestable fact: if you were out there, Joe would find you. And God help any man who stood in his way.

**more to come!! stay tuned and let me know if you want to be tagged

[andorerso]

I’m annoyed by how conflicted this season and specifically the final arc has made me feel. Like as an isolated story I really did like this way of depicting what was happening in the galaxy, the darkness, the brutality of living under the empires regime. Seeing how people who worked for them (Syril) believed they were doing the “right” thing only to realise too late they were part of the problem. I really liked watching a peace of Star Wars media that didn’t centre around the force, don’t get me wrong I love all of that stuff too but it was nice to see it from the angle of “normal” people living in the galaxy. I thought the score was fantastic and the world felt so real and lived in because of the sets buuuuuut I really can’t enjoy the writing and so many of the choices that they made for the characters.

It felt like they didn’t know what to do after introducing so many characters in season 1 that it was either kill them off and never really address it after (rip Cinta and Brasso you were real ones) or reduce their character to a an idea of a person and not actually a well rounded individual. They tried to stuff in too much to a 12 episode season and the time jumps did them absolutely no favours. They also ended on a kind of meh arc after trying to follow on from the emotional gut punch that was the previous arc. Also the decision to have the final frame be bixs and the baby. Why? I get that again they were trying to go for the emotions because they’ve been relying on that since season one but it just didn’t work. That baby doesn’t go on to mean anything story wise? Like not to bully an infant but we never hear about it again why have that be how you end this story on a baby the main character didn’t know about that means nothing in the later stories? Unless that baby helped destroy the Death Star why am I seeing it before you’re supposed to watch rogue one timeline wise?

In conclusion, sad that it was a flop conclusion, random baby was an L and Jyn Erso deserved a mention <3

^^ all that, yes

[centrally-unplanned]

On a recent trip home I picked up my dog-eared childhood copy of The Crystal Shard, the first-ever appearance of trope-defining dark elf Drizzt Do'Urden:

As my partner remarked on seeing the cover, "do you really need the whole wolf? The pelt ain't enough?" Darn right it ain't, when I was ~10 and playing basement D&D every weekend with my friend circle I fucking loved Drizzt, like all nerd kids back then did. Even better, this book was one of those things where he isn't even the main character, no one thought this would become the "IP" that it did. It is pure Early Installment Weirdness. So I was curious how cruelly the passage of time would affect this 1988 fantasy pulp novel.

Anyway we are 112 pages in and our first named female character has finally appeared. I am not exaggerating or even ignoring bit characters for that point. Women as a concept do not appear in the first 30 pages, until this line:

"Fetch the wenches!" he commanded.

And you occasionally get some mind-dominated sex slaves who are, again, unnamed, until Catti-brie (the named girl) shows up. As barbarian boy Wulfgar's romantic interest by the by.

This isn't, like, a gigantic bash or anything - Catti-brie herself is a primary character and well-realized and all that, and as always you can tell a story about a group of guys if you want. But back then the pulp fantasy landscape was just fucking rough my dude; this book spends a lot of time on the "societies" of Icewind Dale, governance & trade and war, and women just do not contribute to that society, in any way, beyond token references to mothers-and-lovers as a concept.

There is a line Wulfgar, someone from the "barbarian" nomadic tribes, makes - as a comparison to Catti-brie - about women in his society:

Barbarian girls were raised to keep their thoughts and opinions, unimportant by the standards of men, to themselves.

And I get it, like Catti-brie is headstrong and wilful and Wulfgar is Learning to Respect Women. I grok that this is an arc moment and depiction is not endorsement. But I think that idea works a little better if the author had put a single female character from the barbarian society on the page to help with that point! The book shouldn't agree that they are unimportant, right? I'm looking at George R.R. Martin's portrayal of the Dothraki in A Game of Thrones - published in 1996! - and seeing it for the progressive act it is now lol, that is a low bar. I have read later R. A. Salvatore books and he would never do this today of course; it was just how the genre worked back then.

Progress is just good sometimes I guess!

[cleverthylacine]

Japanese G1 continuity is absolutely not normal about girls but damned if they don't give us some of the best ones

There was a significant amount of Transformers continuity released between 1987 and around 2007 that was produced in Japanese and is really only known to most English-speaking fans through fansubs, dubs that were only released in Australia, and the like. Shows like Headmasters, Victory, and Zone. Manga like Victory and 15 Go Go Go Teletraan (which was really mostly Kiss Players). Radio shows like Kiss Players.

I'm gonna be super up front. Japanese G1 is not normal about femmes in any way, shape or form. At the same time, it gave us some of the BEST and most underused female characters in the Transformers universe.

Headmasters, which came out right after the US G1 show ended, is particularly egregious. In Headmasters, Arcee has been reduced to Fort Max's administrative assistant, uses ridiculously polite and subservient language, and is also the only medic. And being a medic would be kind of badass if they let her be as badass as Ratchet, you know? But they absolutely do not.

Also, in Headmasters, Carly (now married to Spike) allows her son--a freaking child, not even a teenager--to go on missions when Spike can't and a human is needed, because uh, for some reason it's better for a 12 year old boy to go, not an adult woman?

But most of the good femmes don't come from Headmasters. And some of the best femmes we have are from Japanese G1.

Super-God Masterforce made it up to us by giving gave us Minerva, a human girl who is a Headmaster with a robot body (transtector) making her basically a bad ass mecha pilot, and who actively does fight.

The Victory manga gives us Esmeral, Deathsaurus' incredibly classy wife, and Lyzack, Leozack's twin sister, who is in charge of defending the homefront but really does want to go out and fight. Illumina appears in both the Victory manga and the anime. She's a little human girl who has a crush on Jan Minakaze and is always trying to get people to choose nonviolence.

(Lyzack later appears in an English-language comic - the Wings Universe--wherein she's basically Deathsaurus' servant and Starscream hits on her. I don't like that.)

There are a number of great femmes who were only ever toys. The Cobalt Sentries set gave us Howlback, leader of the Decepticon military police (called the Cobalt Sentries). She is basically Ravage's twin sister but instead of being super stealthy she can turn your attacks right back on you.

(Later she appears in several English language comics and in at least one she is canonically trans. I'm not a fan of her depiction in the SG Recordicons Batman tribute arc, though.)

The Unite Warriors toyline - Takara's response to Combiner Wars, basically - gave us the combiner Megatronia, made up of Megaempress, and her four guards, Lunaclub (sometimes called Luna Clover or Luna Trefle), Flowspade, Moonheart, and Trickdiamond. They are incredibly awesome.

(IDW 2019 used Trickdiamond, but none of the others. Tricky was one of Swindle's contacts.)

Then there's the elephant in the room that everyone pretends isn't there...Kiss Players.

So, okay. There is nothing normal about Kiss Players whatsoever. On the other hand, I'd rather listen to KP than watch RID2015 which is just blatant copaganda from hell.

Kiss Players had an interesting plot involving little bits of Galvatron and Unicron getting into humans and creating the Kiss Players--humans who could give TFs a powerup by kissing them and then merging with their internals somehow. Then there are the Legions, the dick-tongued monsters that everyone who hasn't actually listend to the show or read the manga thinks are Megatron.

The dick-tongued monsters are gross. It is also gross that some of the Kiss Players are barely teenagers and definitely not adults and are constantly ending up in Situations.

But the plot centres around the apparent rise of Convoy, or Optimus, from the dead, and his transformation into a weird groomery dude, which many people don't understand there was an actual reason for, because it's not Optimus, it's someone else riding around in his body.

Melissa Faireborn is like if you chopped Marissa Faireborn's IQ in half, dyed her hair blond and threw out any pants or skirts that covered her knees. She is nothing like Marissa and I treat them as cousins, but Xiaoxiao Li is amazing and her real lover.

Anyhow, this female scientist (Dr Amaou) lost her mind over the loss of her daughter during the events of the 1986 movie et sequelae, and she's got to be stopped from turning Atari and her Autorooper robot pal into a permanent fusion to reincarnate her daughter Shizuku (whom for some reason I always want to call Setsuna instead).

It's a little confusing because most of the really good parts of the plot got jammed into a few episodes near the end of the season, although once you know what it is, it's clear that it's being set up. That artist just likes borderline lolicon way too much.

The second season of KP is very squeaky clean and sends the girls out to collect what they think are Allspark fragments, and they are very annoyed because Ravage, whom they call "black panther man" keeps getting in their way and fucking with them, only to later find out that the bots who gave them this task are Unicronian heralds and Ravage is trying to stop them from helping Unicron do what Unicron does.

Rosanna, everyone's favourite robot pop idol, comes from the second season of KP, although you don't see very much of her or her companions Glit and Sundor.

Incidentally KP sets up the Unicron Trilogy and some of its characters end up in the UT--which did come to the US, and gave us Alexis Thi Dang.

(This post is brought to you because I just wrote an Esmeral thing and someone was musing separately about Megaempress as a parent and I almost ended up writing this post while reblogging them, because I'm a nerd with a hyperfixation).

[class1akids]

having a tough time reading fanfics that depict shoto as having all bad coping mechanisms when in canon he has some of the best out of all the characters after the sports festival

For me, it's a bit more complex than that. I feel like Shouto's coping mechanisms are not really depicted - we are just to assume that they exist.

After the SF, Shouto does a lot of reflection, goes to look at his dead as a hero - so he starts the compartmentalisation of his father into Endeavor, the competent hero and Enji, the shitty dad.

In Midterms / Forest /Kamino arcs, he's mostly treating Enji as non-existent. But then after Kamino (when Endeavor's change is kickstarted), the Licensing exam portrays Shouto distancing himself from his father and trying to bury his past as an obstacle for him to become a hero and he fails his exam over it.

We also see PTSD episodes mid-fights - so it's not precisely all good or healthy.

For me, the interesting part of Shouto's arc is how he keeps struggling and how his healing is non-linear. But as Endeavor's atonement arc progresses, Shouto's own coping mechanisms are depicted less and less in detail, especially the ugly or fragile parts. His pain or mental anguish gets less focus and is only shown in footnotes / or implied because Hori doesn't know how to write an honest redemption / atonement arc where the victims' pain doesn't get swept under the rug.

This is my main problem with how he writes both Endeavor and Bakugou - the more he buys into the hype of his own writing, the more insecure he becomes about it. So he started to spend more and more time on highlighting feelings of regret from the perpetrators' POV (also combining them with flashy fight moments - so it could be framed as e.g. Endeavor fought AFO FOR Touya, Bakugou died FOR Deku, etc), while the damage is simply not shown.

So people can say things like: why hold Endeavor accountable? - Shouto is clearly over it. But I could also bring up the example of Izuku, who had all this build-up to feelings of worthlessness that didn't get explored or properly resolved in the end, because than god forbid the impact of being bullied may need to be dragged up again rather than just showing the same hero card scene over and over.

So, I do appreciate fanfic that goes into these neglected areas. I want to see how Shouto goes from Ch 298 self -> Ch 327. I want to see how he copes with the fallout of the Dabi reveal. I want to see how he feels after the final war about Touya, how he grieves his brother's death, how he copes with his family falling apart, how he faces the public as a young pro hero, how things he buried may hit him later in life, how PTSD may come to the surface.

I think there is plenty that can be explored without undermining also the incredible emotional work Shouto has put into his own healing.

[the-writer-is-always-write]

Thoughts on Dune: Part Two

General Impression: I adored this movie from start to finish. Having just rewatched Part One a week ago, it felt like a seamless transition hopping back into the story. The score, the set design, the costumes, all of it was impeccable.

Chani: her character arc was obviously the biggest deviation from the book, and although I felt a lot of surprise watching it unfold, I think some reflection has left me alright with it. I've admittedly only read Dune and Dune: Messiah, but both books are clearly meant to illustrate the dangers of religious fanaticism and the ways that religion and prophecy can be manipulated and utilized as a tool for oppression. While these ideas can (hopefully) be discerned fairly clearly by the reader, I think it makes sense to have an audible voice of dissent in a film adaptation, particularly from someone among the Fremen. The only concern I have is wondering how Denis will handle Dune: Messiah, since the plot sort of hinges on Paul and Chani being together. But I guess that's a worry for later.

MY BOY MUAD'DIB: Timothee is just so utterly perfect for this role, I genuinely could not imagine anyone else doing it with such grace and gravitas. Seeing the gradual spiral of innocent teenager to reluctant leader to religious icon was heart-wrenching. Paul has honestly become one of my favorite fictional characters because his story is so complex and layered with tragedy. He's simultaneously a product of manipulation and coercion, and an angry young man seeking revenge against those who have hurt him. He lacks agency in many ways, yet he still makes decisions that lead to so much destruction. He tries so so hard to avoid the holy war, but it becomes an inevitability he can't escape. Reading Dune: Messiah for the first time a few weeks ago really helped me to understand how the prophecy controlled him as much as he used it to control others. I could literally give a ted talk on this, and how it's such a fascinating take on the messiah figure trope.

Jessica: I saw an article recently where I think Denis called Jessica "the puppetmaster," and I think that's very fitting for her depiction in this movie. I like how it openly shows the manipulation tactics of the Bene Gesserit, particularly how they prey upon the "vulnerable" Fremen first. Rebecca did a fantastic job giving the creep factor.

Feyd-Rautha: I still don't know why Denis had a vendetta against Harkonnen eyebrows, but I guess it was cool? I LOVED the black and white lighting on Giedi Prime, and the arena scene was SO. GOOD. Denis really went for it. Feyd's accent caught me off guard a few times, but overall I think the ruthless and brutal nature of the character really shined through. He's the antithesis to Paul, and I think Denis captured that theme well enough.

I thought all the other characters were well done too. Stilgar was maybe a touch too comic relief-y at times, but nothing catastrophic. Gurney was great, but I would have liked at least one more baliset scene :(

Things we missed: I'm a little bummed we didn't get Harah. I know the movie was already pretty stuffed, but I honestly thought they could have used the actress that played Chani's friend (I can't remember if they ever mention her name). Even if the idea of Paul "acquiring" her was a little icky, they could have done something else with her character at least. I was also sad they didn't do the full funeral scene with Jamis, but oh well. I think the greater omission was Thufir Hawat, but again I can see why they chose to cut him. I just think the dynamic between the Baron and Feyd-Rautha had a lot more friction in the book, mostly because of Thufir conspiring them both against each other.

I'm honestly not upset we didn't get to see freaky-toddler Alia. I was excited for Anya though!

Overall, I really loved this film. No adaptation can get every detail perfect, but I can see the ways that Denis and the actors adored this story and wanted to tell it in a powerful way. I thought the themes stayed true to the book, and I'm really hopeful we get Part Three!

AND THE WORMS. THE WORMS WERE GREAT. LONG LIVE THE WORMS.

[misrepresentedmorallygrey]

PROPAGANDA

Rose Quartz Propaganda

"We saw her character arc in reverse!! We first saw all the good she did and then learned of her terrible actions in the past. If her story was told the other way around, it would have been a great redemption arc. Yes, she did some terrible things, but she had no choice. She did everything she could to stop the colonization of earth peacefully buy nothing worked. Blue and yellow diamond just didn't listen to her and when they did, THEY were the ones who made the zoo and shit. Rose wanted to free them but couldn't get to them after the war! And with the corruption, there's no way she could have known that'd happen. There's so many things she wanted to do but just couldn't. And with spinel, yes it was shitty to leave her alone for so long, but again, between running her court, running the rebellion, dealing with earth, she likely wasn't a very high priority and like with the zoo, there was no way to get to her after the war since the galaxy warp was destroyed. And don't forget, she was practically a child around this time. You're saying you didn't do any stupid, selfish, or harmful things as a kid? She learned from her experiences and grew, we just saw that growth in reverse, leaving us as viewers with a poor perception of her."

"Rose Quartz is Steven Universe’s dead mom. Initially, she’s set up as sort of an ethereal perfect figure who everyone misses and compares him to. Later we get to see more of her backstory and discover that she’s actually like, a person, with flaws, who has done some bad things, but she did those bad things largely in the course of trying to escape an abusive home life and save the people and planet that she fell in love with. It’s very clear that despite her flaws she was trying to do the right thing and that she deeply cared about others. Unfortunately, a woman who was not a Perfect Martyr was way too much for the Steven Universe fandom to handle. She pretty much set off the wave of SU crit blogs because these people were furious either that she had taken violent measures to solve her problems, that she hadn’t taken violent enough measures to solve her problems, or both somehow. Lots of “Why didn’t she just murder her abusive parental figures?” Lots of “She was evil for having a baby even though she knew she’d die in childbirth!” Lots of “She should’ve been able to protect everyone from a magic nuclear weapon with the power of love somehow.” Lots of “She shouldn’t have rebelled (even though not rebelling would’ve meant the destruction of Earth) because her abusers retaliated and that’s her fault.” LOTS of people drawing her as stick thin even though she was fat in the show. People treated her like she was on the same level or even worse than her abusive parental figures who were also the main villains of the show. It was unbearable to witness."

Mahiru Propaganda

"They got unfairly voted guilty in the first round and keeps getting blamed She never meant to hurt anyone and the only reason she did was cause she couldn’t read social ques"

"Mahiru Shiina is the most traditionally feminine character in Milgram, and she’s very in love with the idea of love. That makes her an easy fandom target. In Milgram, we are introduced to ten murderers. It quickly becomes apparent that not all of these murders are conventional. By the time we are introduced to Mahiru, we already know most of these unconventional murderers. Mahiru’s first music video depicts her going on various dates with her boyfriend, even though he is not shown in the frame. At the end of the video, Mahiru wakes up, turns to the camera, and has a horrified expression. Whatever happened, she didn’t want it to happen. And then a lot of the fandom accused her of being a stalker. Was that what got her a 55% guilty/unforgiven vote? I don’t know. I wasn’t there. But she heard what the fandom said. She heard these voices saying she couldn’t be forgiven. Saying that she was a stalker or that she didn’t really love her boyfriend, even though that wasn’t true. She was beaten to near-death by Kotoko, a vigilante who was forgiven by 67%. Fuuta, who also sustained serious injuries from Kotoko, calls out the audience surrogate, saying what we did with our verdicts would have made us the same as him if Mahiru had died. And yet Mahiru doesn’t blame either us or Kotoko. Mahiru’s second music video shows that she was indeed in a proper relationship with her boyfriend. She smothered him with her love. The video slowly revealed the toxicity in their relationship. She asked why she can’t do anything right. The fandom perception was better in that she was safely voted innocent/forgiven. Still, there are issues. Some infantilize her or say that she’s delusional. Yes, she had a sheltered upbringing and has difficulties reading social cues, but that doesn’t take away her agency. On the flip side, some have theorized that she kidnapped her boyfriend and wasn’t in a proper relationship with him. (Not sure what to say about that, but this is a series about sympathetic murderers.)"