#when your villain is better written than your hero

[lyledebeast]

I think what really makes The Patriot such a great movie for Jason Isaacs in spite of being such a shitty movie for just about everyone else involved just comes down to laziness in the writing. Robert Rodat wrote a protagonist who is allegedly, somehow, a badass Rambo-style war hero and haunted by his past AND a good father, and the filmmakers planned from the beginning to rely on Mel Gibson's charisma to sell him. Roland Emmerich admits they never really considered anyone else for the role. Meanwhile, Tavington on paper is a cardboard cutout Evil English Snob. The original plan was to cast Jude Law, a solid Evil English Snob choice, but when he took too long to officially accept, they offered the part to an actor with little experience in American film who had not played a major antagonist before. And they let him implement some of his own ideas because his character wasn't the one they really cared about.

And he stole their movie!

I would argue that the main reason for this, the reason all the others stem from, is Issacs' idea for Tavington's backstory. Not only does it explain why he is in the Army and so desperate for a British victory, but also, in part, why he has such particular beef with a father.

The backstory itself is certainly more tragic than Martin's. For all the movie's criticism of "gentlemen," growing up in the expectation of a certain kind of life and having that torn away through someone else's irresponsibility would traumatize anyone. While the movie tells us nothing about Tavington's age when his father died or what happened to him in the immediate aftermath, it is abundantly clear that he has not gotten over it. Martin has not gotten over Fort Wilderness, but by every other account we hear it was 1, Martin's accomplishment and 2, an absolute Roman triumph from the British Colonial perspective. It did nothing to hurt Martin's fortune or prospects, quite the opposite. The only drawback for Martin is that when you commit war crimes, it has an unfortunate way of making you feel like you might be a war criminal. Annoying that.

That Tavington has a saber to grind with fathers is also far more consistent than Martin's approach to fathering, as we see in Tavington's first scene. He points his pistol at Martin's children to get the rise out of him that pointing it at him failed to stir. He never speaks to Gabriel or even looks at him upon discovering the dispatches he carried, but when Gabriel calls Martin "father," suddenly Tavington is invested: "Oh, I see. He's your son. Well, perhaps you should have taught him something of loyalty." Every problem Tavington sees in this scene of performed neutrality he lays at Martin's door, even Gabriel's service in the Continental Army. Could it be projection? If there is one outcome that is not Martin's fault, it is Gabriel joining up against his explicit wishes. Meanwhile, Martin's concern for Gabriel shifts from his endangering five of his remaining children's lives to save him to paying so little attention to him immediately after his new wife's murder that he is able to ride for revenge with no inconsequential number of Martin's men behind him. And he is at least as shocked by Gabriel's death as he was by Thomas's.

The first exchange between Tavington and Martin is mostly unchanged from the script to the theatrical release, but the two following it are dramatically different thanks to Isaacs. He argued successfully that not only would Tavington not be afraid of Martin after the prisoner exchange but that he would do well in the final fight between them (a fight that does not exist in the original screenplay). That fight in particular creates problems for the filmmakers' vision of Martin. In the unaltered first scene, Tavington has all of the power, sitting on his horse while Martin is on foot. In the second, Tavington draws his sword to kill Martin while he is unarmed. Both of these are classic dastardly villain moves. In the last exchange, though, it is Martin who has the advantage of having wounded Tavington twice before they get in sword's reach of each other, and Tavington still kicks his ass. On Tavington's side, this is not representative of a one-dimensional villain but of a man who has clawed his way to being a colonel in the British Army after losing everything with his father's death. The only reason Tavington does not kill Martin, either after the punch Martin does not take like a champ or after he has literally beaten Martin to his knees, is that he is still seeking a connection with a father.

The problem with the changes Jason Isaacs brought about is that they make Tavington a badass fighter with a sad backstory, which also happen to be the only aspects of Martin that get any real development. His onscreen violence evokes Fort Wilderness from first to last, but the third aspect of Martin's character, that he is a good father, is told rather than shown. Had changes been made to Martin that corresponded to Isaacs' for Tavington, then he could have had a stronger ending, perhaps saving Gabriel as he failed to save Thomas. But, no. Instead he just gets out-badassed in his own movie and then handed a giftwrapped victory anyway.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Everything I've Ever Written (on Tumblr)

I have been writing online since 2016. As a result, I have quite the few short stories listed below! They're all from different parts in my writing journey and I hope you enjoy.

If you'd like to read what I currently put out, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)

Cinderella Doesn't Believe in Fairy Tales

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Part 4 / Part 5 /Part 6

Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

Destiny Universe

You Are the Demon King

The Hero and Hope (part 1) (part 2)

Being Villagers

Heroes and Villains

Therapist for Villains

Juniper and Discus

Self Destruct Villain (flash fiction)

Dandelion (A Villain Story)

You Help Kill Heroes

You are the Shark Hero

Mist into a Tempest

The Civilian and the Reluctant Hero

No Heroes Here

The Spoiler (humor, flash fiction)

You are Legacy

Hero in Title

Dark Lord's Former Coworker

One Minute

The Fae:

You Become Powerful

Your Friend Takes Your Name

Larkin and Yvette

Debt Must Be Repaid (humor flash fiction)

Going to the Hill

The Fae are Free

When They Don't Know (submitted to elsewhereuniversity)

The Chosen One

The Chosen One's Parents

Fate and Mercy and Dead Girls

Amulet to Save Her

Hero's Apprentice (Flash fiction)

The Aftermath of the Chosen One

Wizards Stole My Brother

You are the Chosen One's Knight

The Chosen One is a History Major

You are the Most Powerful Magic User

Time Restarts and She Remembers

Better the Witch than the Kid

Witches

It Was in a Name

The Good Witch of Hawthorne

Berthe the Green Witch

Cursed Mold (flash fiction)

Love isn't Enough

I Can't Believe it's not Proper Adjudication

Devil Deals

The Devil You Know

The Ritual

They Summoned Her on Halloween (flash fiction)

Fairytale Retellings

Ariel and Ursula (age appropriate)

The Gods

Zeus' Son

Faith in Technology

Sci-Fi

Six Red Bulls and Persistence

The Sound of Silence

Emmaline and the Apartment

Humans are Vengeful

Humans Know War (that's why we have diplomacy)

Criminals Forced to Live on as AI (flash fiction)

Misc Fantasy

Wind-Speaker

Wind-Speaker and Her Wife

You Will Become

The Sirens and Leona (flash fiction)

Eldritch Princess (flash fiction)

Princess Maria and the Dragon

Princess Maria is Kidnapped

Immortals are Afraid of Change

Fiona the Dragon

A Violently Won War

Meta Stories

An Abstract Concept

Narrative Town

Narrative Town: Uncle Ralph

Princess Phaedra Breaks

You are a Horror Movie Villain

Ghost Stories

Malevolent Spirits

Your House is Haunted by an Anime Pillow

Don't Open the Door

Grandma's House

Who Is? (flash fiction)

A Face (flash fiction)

Misc.

You Choose Your Fate in Hell

Time Paradox (flash fiction)

You are an Assassin

Multiple Dimension Serial Killer (flash fiction)

An Exercise in Mary Sue

She Comes Back from the Hospital (tw eating disorder)

Roses and Evil (mental health flash fiction)

Big Brother

A Conversation About Anger

Punching Depression

Two Sides (flash fiction)

Immortal Serial Killer in Prison

Theater Romance (flash fiction)

The Lady and the Knight (flash fiction)

Different (flash fiction)

[little-pondhead]

Your Ancient History, Written In Wax

-

Danny knew he should have put better security around the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep. It wasn’t even Vlad who opened it this time! The fruitloop was too busy doing his actual mayor duties because for some godforsaken reason, the man got re-elected.

No, it wasn’t Vlad. And it wasn’t Fright Knight, either. Nor the Observants. Who opened the Sarcophagus, then? Danny didn’t have time to find out as Pariah Dark promptly tore open a hole in reality and started hunting Danny down.

The battle was longer this time. He didn’t have the Ecto-Skeleton, as that was the first thing Pariah had destroyed. The halfa had grown a lot over the past few years, and learned some new tricks, but apparently sleeping in a magic ghost box meant that Pariah had absorbed a lot of power. The bigger ghost acted like a one-man army!

Amity Park was caught in the middle of the battle, but the residents made sure it went no further than that. Vlad and the Fentons made a barrier around the town to keep the destruction from leaking. Sam, Tucker, and Dani did crowd control while Danny faced the king head-on.

Their battle shook the Zone and pulled them wildly between the mortal plane and the afterlife. Sometimes, residents noticed a blow from Pariah transported them to the age of the dinosaurs, and Phantom’s Wail brought them to an unknown future. Then they were in a desert. Then a blazing forest. Then underwater. It went on like that, but no one dared step foot outside of Amity. They couldn’t risk being left behind.

It took ages to beat him, but eventually, Danny stood above the old ghost king, encasing his symbols of power in ice so they couldn’t be used again. He refused to claim the title for himself. Tired as he was, Danny handed the objects off to Clockwork for safe keeping and started repairing the damage Pariah had done to the town. The tear he’d made was too big to fix, for now, so no one bothered. They just welcomed their new ghostly neighbors with open arms and worked together to restore Amity Park.

Finally, the day came to bring down the barrier. People were gathered around the giant device the Fentons had built to sustain it. Danny had brought Clockwork to Amity, to double check that they had returned to the right time and dimension.

Clockwork assured everyone that they were in the right spot, and only a small amount of time had passed, so the Fentons gave the signal to drop the shield.

Very quickly did they discover that something was wrong. The air smelled different. The noise of the nearby city, Elmerton, was louder and more chaotic. Something was there that wasn’t before, and it put everyone on edge.

Clockwork smiled, made a remark about the town fitting in better than before, and disappearing before Danny could catch him.

Frantic, Danny had a few of his ghost buds stay behind to protect the town while he investigated.

He flew far and wide, steadily growing horrified at the changes the world had undergone. Heroes, villains, rampant crime and alien invasions. The Earth was unrecognizable. There were people moving around the stars like it was second nature and others raising dead gods like the apocalypse was coming. Magic and ectoplasm was everywhere, rather than following the ley lines like they were supposed to.

Danny returned to Amity.

The fight with Pariah had taken them through space and time. Somewhere along the way, they had changed the course of history so badly that this now felt like an alien world.

How was he supposed to fix this?

-

In the Watchtower, The Flash was wrapping up monitor duty while Impulse buzzed around him, a little more jittery than usual. The boy was talking a mile a minute, when alarms started blaring an alarming green. Flash had never seen this alarm before, and its crackling whine was grating on his ears.

Flash returned to the monitor, frantically clicking around to find the issue, but nothing was popping up. No major disasters, no invasions, no declarations of war. Nothing! What was causing the alarm?

Impulse swore and zipped to a window, pressing his face against it and staring down at Earth. “Fuck! It’s today isn’t it? I forgot!”

“What’s today?” Flash asked. He shot off a text to Batman, asking if it was an error. The big Bat said it wasn’t, and that he would be there soon.

“The arrival of Amity Park. I learned about this in school; the alarm always gives me headaches.”

Flash turned to his grandson, getting his attention. “Bart,” he stressed. “What are you talking about?”

Impulse barely glanced over his shoulder. Now that Flash was facing him, he could see a strong glow coming from Earth. “The first villain, first anti-villain, and the first hero,” he said anxiously. “They all protect the town of the original metas. They’re all here.”

“Here? Now??”

“Yeah? They weren’t before, but they are now. The first hero said there was time stuff involved, which was what inspired me to start practicing time travel in the first place.”

“I’m not following.”

“It’s okay. We should probably go welcome them before they tear apart Illinois, though. The history I remember says that some of them freaked and destroyed a chunk of the Midwest during a fight with each other.”

“WHAT?”

[linkspooky]

It's not just the fact that Hori decided to kill a lifelong victim of grooming.

My two favorite comic book storylines are New Teen Titans Judas Contract, and Uncanny X Men's Inferno. They both feature villains / victims (Madelyne Pryor and Terra) that die at the end of the story. Terra is specifically fifteen years old and a victim of sexual grooming.

However, both of these stories are clearly written as tragedies. It's clear from the start that these are tragic stories not only meant to get us to sympathize with the victim turned villain but also the failure to save a clear victim is meant to make the heroes look bad.

Let me just list off all the shit Scott Summers put Madelyne Pryor through.

Fell in love with her only because she looked like his ex girlfriend Jean. Even though Madelyne specifically stated before getting into the relationship she didn't want to be jeans replacement.

Married her, and refuses to take time off to the point where he misses the birth of his own son leaving Madelyne at home to deliver her baby on the floor.

When he finally retires and they move to Alaska together he gets a phone call that Jean is still alive and abandons his wife and daughter for weeks to go back to his high school girlfriend.

Madelyne is attacked by a group of supervillains while Scott is away and just barely manages to escape but loses her baby.

She joins up with the x men to look for scott only to find out in the time she's been gone Scott had already gotten back together with Jean.

She is tricked into making a deal with a demon who wants to overthrow ilyanas control of limbo (she thought it was just a dream and the contract to sell her soul didn't matter).

She used her newfound power in order to find her child Nathan only to find Mr sinister there who reveals that Madelyne was a clone of Jean Grey, her entire life was a lie, she was made to breed with cyclops and produce a baby for sinister.

At which point madelyne snaps and decides to burn everything to the ground and kill her own child.

It's clearly telegraphed as a tragedy. The reference to Medea is pretty obvious. Madelyne had no chance from the beginning, however even in this tragedy Scott specifically forbid any of the heroes from using lethal force on her. Jean and Maddie mindmeld at one point and Jean literally begs for Maddie not to die and that she should live on to raise her son. They even throw a funeral for Maddie afterwards because be no one else would ever mourn her.

Not only do the heroes look bad, especially Scott for not being able to save her, they do at least try to talk with her, use non lethal force, and beg her at one point to let them help her.

On the other hand not only did Deku never engage Shigaraki Tomura once, just the vision of a crying child in front of him. Deku doesn't look like a failure for failing in his goal to save him he's still the greatest hero, they don't hold a funeral for Shigaraki, Dekus last words are about how he doesn't forgive Shigaraki (and therefore he deserves to die i guess because deku is the punisher now). Deku doesn't even give Shigaraki the respect of calling him by his preferred name he just calls him Tenko who was the only person Deku cared about saving.

It's not just about a victim dying it's about how the story promised us over and over again the kids were going to save the villains in the final act, that this was going to be an optimistic story about the new generation being better than the old.

Only for Horikoshi to deliver something entirely different. If I'm watching punisher I know what I'm getting into. I'm here to watch Frank Castle shoot mobsters. If Batman picks up a Tommy Gun and starts shooting mobsters that's bad because Batman wouldn't do that shit.

There's writing a story that's tonally inconsistent, or changing your plans for how a character is going to end late in the game and then there's this.

Which is basically narrative gaslighting. Where one thing is clearly happening onscreen but the narrative needs you to believe those gaslights clearly are not dimming.

I know Deku made no effort to save Shigaraki when he explicitly said they OFA is a power for saving but not killing, but don't worry Deku became the greatest hero anyway, and this is still a happy optimistic ending!

Horikoshi isn't looking for treasure in the house. Those gaslights aren't dimming. You're clearly being hysterical, woman.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Decided to share a piece I had written in 2019

Yandere Short Stories:

Heroes and Villains

Yandere lesbian supervillain x Afab Reader x Yandere Superhero x Yandere Heroine

  A young woman fidgeted in her seat as she sat in a plush red love seat right outside the CEO’s office. The large black doors intimidating her as she began to sweat. The bunny keychain attached to her black purse jingling every time she shifted in her seat.

     The young reported pulled out a compact mirror from her black purse as she checked her appearance again, making sure not a single hair was out of place to not offend the big bad boss of Domino Electric, the largest electricity company in the nation. The powerhouse of every major city’s power. The young woman had heard rumors that the CEO was a cold woman with a hell of a temper. 

    The young reporter was amazed to have this assignment rather than making a newspaper article on the rise of superheroes and the ever so popular super villainess, Electra.

    Creak. The young reporter’s head snapped up as she quickly composed herself and placed her compact mirror back into her bag. A tall, slender woman stood before her as the assistant gave her a reassuring smile.

    “Miss Spark is ready to speak with you now.” The woman raised a hand to the door with a bow as the young reporter shakily stood up and slowly made her way into the office, the door shutting quickly behind her, trapping her in the den of a lion.

    The young reporter gulped as her (eye color) eyes stared at the figure of a tall, voluptuous woman with long, straight silver hair and a black dress suit on. The businesswoman soon turning around, revealing her beautiful, flawless dark skinned face and violet eyes. The reporter whole face flushed red when they made eye contact. She felt like a tiny rabbit in front of a wolf. Her knees shook as her (eye color) eyes glanced at the CEO’s plump lips and slowly trailing her gaze to the violet silk dress shirt the businesswoman had on under her black dress jacket.

    “Sit down, Miss (last name).” The woman’s voice was cold and firm, the young reporter immediately sitting down as the tall woman sat in front of her. “I believe you have some questions for me?”

     “Ah, y-yes...” the reporter reached into her back, pulling out a notebook and pencil as well as a voice recorder. “I’m so happy for this opportunity, Miss Spark-“

    “You may call me Aria Spark since we are alone together.” The reporter nodded as she opened up the notepad and smiled at the businesswoman. “What is your name?”

    “Oh, my name is (your full name).” (Your name) replies as she turned to the recorded. “Let’s start with the basics shall we?”

   “What made you decide to be a businesswoman?”

    “I lived in poverty as a child and wanted a better life for myself. So I climbed to the top by utilizing my skills.” Aria replied as (your name) smiled at her to continue.

    “And what may those skills be?”

    “I am very good with electrical work.” 

    (Your name) jotted Aria’s answers down as (your name) listened attentively to every word Aria replied to her questions. (Your nams) soon learned a lot about Aria’s childhood such as her old neighborhood being in the ghetto and Aria’ friends and family who either were no longer in her life or still very close. About how it was hard being a lesbian CEO without criticism and hate comments. Aria told (your name) she was bullied a lot throughout high school for being gay. Aria also wanted to become a businesswoman and make it to the top to prove that she wasn’t scared of people’s expectations of her. Aria was a very admirable woman.

    And as the interview came to a close, (Your name) turned off her recorder as the reporter gave Aria another warm smile.

    “Thank you so much for this interview, I will publish this in the magazine soon-“ Aria suddenly leaned forward, placing her hands across her desk to stand in front of (your name), caging the young woman in her chair.

    “You should go out to dinner with me sometime. You’re really cute.” Aria then reached into her pocket and handed (your name) a business card with her name and number on it. “Call me whenever and we can go out.”

    “I-I... Oh um, I think I should go-“

  “You’re such a cute little bottom.” Aria chuckled as her violet eyes stared down at the smaller female through long silver eyelashes. “Makes me want to eat you.”

    “I-I’m leaving! Have a good day!” (Your name) quickly scrambled away, accidentally dropping the bunny keychain as Aria picked it up. The violet eyed woman smiling at the cute rabbit.

    “She’s just like a rabbit.” Aria smirked as she gazed out the door in awe. “And I’m going to have that little rabbit.”

    “Miss Spark, I think you scared her away. I’ve never seen someone run so fast-“ the assistant paused as the businesswoman began to chuckle. “Miss Spark? Are you alright?”

    “She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.” A spark of lavender electricity surrounded Aria as she smirked.

    “Miss Spark, I don’t know if you know her well enough to-“

    “Maybelle, I want all her records and any other personal information you can find about her. I want the little rabbit girl-“

    The assistant sighed as she bowed to her employer. “Right away, Miss Spark.” .

.

    “So how’d the interview go, (Your name)?” A slender  woman with long, black hair asked as (your name) flushes bright red. The Japanese woman had her jacket off, revealing her various tattoos and ever so prominent piercings, such as her prized septum ring.

    “R-really good, Ryoko. It’s just-“

    “Just?”

    “I didn’t think she’d be so attractive!” (Your name) squeaked out loudly as everyone in the break room stared at the two women as (your name) flushes even more red. “S-she was so curvy and had the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. And s-she asked me to dinner. Oh god I ran away from her, I-I’m so humiliated.” 

    The pale woman laughed at (your name) as the young reporter comically hid her face in her arms. 

    “Well, Miss Spark is clearly interested in you. Probably because you scream ‘bottom’-“

    “Why does everyone keep saying that!”

   “Because you’re like a cute little rabbit. So timid and shy. Easily flustered, you’re just really cute.” Ryoko told the (hair color) haired girl as Ryoko smiled, showing off her frenulum piercing. (Your name) began to fiddle with her fingers as she pressed them together.

    “Do you think I should give her a call?”

   “Well, do what your heart wants but we should leave, the pig is here.”

    (Your name) turned her head to see the boss of their News media company, Metro Media, Jasper Jones. He was handsome for a man. Tall with a large muscle build, pale blue eyes, short wavy, sandy blonde hair, a chiseled jaw, and he had this tough guy vibe with a scar right across his nose. He was very handsome and he was a very driven man but-

     “(Your name), there you are, I need you to see me in my office about your report.” His low voice rung out through the break room as he had his hands on top of the doorway, flexing his muscles through his white dress shirt as the other women swooned. All except (your name). She wasn’t interested in him that much. She didn’t understand what the other women found so great about him...

    “Y-yes, mister Jones.”

     “You can call me Jasper.” The man chuckled as (your name) tried not to cry at how much the male scared her. He constantly gave her compliments and although they were never stepping over boundaries, it was the way he stared at her. She has never met anyone who stared at her with eyes that felt as if they were undressing her. Jasper’s pale blue eyes gazed at her with such a burning intensity that (your name) felt as if she’d light on fire at any moment.

    “Um, I prefer Mister Jones. I’ll talk to you once I’m done eating-“

    “How about we go eat in my office-“ (Your name) gulped as she stared at her lap as she fidgeted with her hands nervously. She was so close to crying.

    “S-sorry. Maybe another time-“

   “Alright how about we go out tomorrow at the cafe next door to the building? My treat?”

   “Um, okay-

    “Hey, Mister Jones, (your name) is uncomfortable. Could you tone it down?” Ryoko stepped in as she stood between the two, her onyx eyes glowing gold for the briefest of moments as Jasper stood up and took a step back.

    “Oh sorry, I didn’t realize I did. Sorry for not noticing (your name).” The girl merely smiled shyly as she stared at her lap. “I’ll see you in my office later.”

   Jasper then turned to leave, flexing his back muscles as he did so, causing (your name) to look away in disgust.

    “I don’t like that guy hanging so close around you.” Ryoko stared as she went back to her seat, her onyx eyes furrowing in worry as she gazed at (your name). “You need to be more assertive with your no’s. Just tell him that you’re not interested. I know you’re bisexual but seriously, it’s obvious you lean more towards women. Just tell him you’re gay or something. I’m sure he’ll get the hint then.”

    “But I don’t want to make him u-upset. The look in his eyes scares m-me.” Ryoko frowned as she got up from her seat and wrapped her arms around her mousy friend, her body slowly heating up slightly as she glared at the door Jasper walked out of.

     “Don’t worry, I’ll always protect you, (your name).” Ryoko stated as she pulled the (body type) girl close to her lean muscled body. Ryoko would always be there for (your name) because she was (your name)’s best and only friend. Ryoko wouldn’t let anything happen to her little bunny.

.

.

.

     Jasper tried not to throw his desk across the room but he really wanted to. He has tried everything to make the timid (Your name) love him. He changed his hair style, started working out more, waxing off his unwanted body hair, and even offered her on dates. But Ryoko was in his way. His grip on his desk tightened as it began to frost over with a thin layer of ice. Jasper exhaled as the air in his office slowly began to drop in temperature. 

    To think his own partner in crime was in an intimate relationship with the cute girl drove him up the wall. (Your name) deserves the absolute best and that’s exactly what he would be. (Your name) could not possibly be gay, she was too cute to be!

    (Your name) was the only one to not see him as a piece of meat and didn’t throw herself at him. She didn’t try anything to make him uncomfortable and respected his space and he absolutely loved it. (Your name) was so attentive to everything he talked about and she was so gentle.

    Jasper remembered the time her hand grazed his hand when he dropped his papers in the elevator as she helped him collect all of his belongings. Her hands were so small and soft compared to his, Jasper swore his heart stopped. Jasper wondered if all of her was soft. He wondered if she thought of him the same way he thought of her. Jasper relaxed as the temperature and ice began to slowly dissipate as his fingers touched his lips as he released a sigh as he began to give into his delusions.

    Did (your name) think of his lips touching her skin so lightly that it felt as if a butterfly landed on each spot his lips would touch? Did she think of Jasper laying beside her at night, holding her close as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear? Did (your name) want to ever date him?

     Jasper clutched his chest as he felt his cheeks flush pink. He loved her so much. He still had so much to learn about her.

   A quiet knock brought Jasper out of his musings as he cleared his throat and opened his office door, revealing his favorite reporter, a few of her (hair color) hairs out of place as she had a somewhat frazzled appearance. Did she run up the stairs to see him? Did she really want to see him that badly? Oh she was just so cute. Would she look like that if he made love to her?

    “Oh, you’re here so quickly (Your name)! I was starting to think you weren’t going to come.” Jasper immediately pulled a chair out for her to sit down as he went over to get her a glass of water from the pitcher. 

    “O-oh. I didn’t want to disappoint you. Shall we go over my article I wrote?”

    “Here drink some water, you look rather frazzled.” Jasper handed her the glass as she shyly took it from him, her fingers brushing his as Jasper tried not to make any inappropriate noises.

    “Oh the elevator took too long so I decided to take the stairs. I am so sorry for my appearance-“

    “It’s okay. I’m just happy to see you.” Just like she was happy to see him, or at least Jasper believed so. Why else would she run up the stairs to get to his office? To get her daily cardio? No, to see him, duh.

    “Shall we begin?” Jasper did not listen to a single word she said, his icy blue eyes were too focused on her plump lips and wondering what they’d feel like against his as he pressed her against the wall and-

     “Mister Jones?” Jasper snapped out of his musings as his blue eyes met (eye color) orbs. “It’s starting to get really cold in here.”

   Jasper immediately realized he accidentally used his powers underneath his desk as his whole face flushed red.

    “W-would you like a jacket? I’m sorry, I didn’t notice.”

    “Oh um, thanks.” Jasper pulled his jacket off his chair as he wrapped it around (your name)’s shoulder’s, his breath hitching as her cheeks flushed slightly as she bundled into his warm oversized jacket.

     Jasper didn’t think she could get any cuter but here she was... in his jacket. Oh lord he was trying so hard not to kiss her right there and then. To not bend her over his desk and tear off her clothes and make the whole department know his name-

     “Thank you, Mister Jones.” Jasper placed his hand over his face as his whole face turned a bright red. Oh lord he was going to catch a case at this point. “I’m done with my report, I’ll leave the article here so you can go over it. Thank you for your time, here’s your jacket back-“

    “Thank you, (your name). Have a good one!” As soon as she left his office and shut the thick mahogany doors, he fell to his knees as he grabbed his jacked and inhaled greedily. Oh lord it smelled like her. (Your name) smelled like roses and vanilla. She was just so sweet and he swore he’d make that sweet girl all his. Jasper swore on his life.

    But first, he was going to add this jacket to his collection. Jasper stood up as he opened up his bottom desk drawer with his key, revealing numerous miscellaneous items that wouldn’t mean much to anyone but they meant the world to him. 

    There were numerous photos of his beloved darling sleeping and an old toothbrush. As well as a tissue, a spoon, and a chapstick he swiped off her desk when she was out and about. And although Jasper hates to admit it, he used the chapstick on rough days to satiate his needs.

   He carefully folded up his jacket and placed it in the drawer as he locked his treasure chest. Jasper then reclined back in his desk chair as he smiled. Jasper couldn’t wait to see her tomorrow across a table from him eating. 

   Maybe this time he’ll get an even better Momento of her.

    Jasper was unaware of the drone outside the complex snapping pictures of his entire interaction as the drone quickly took off, to bring the video evidence to its creator.

.

.

.

    (Your name) strolled through the bustling city as she smiled. She was finally off from work so she could have some time to herself. 

     As the reporter walked down the street, she heard the screams of the other civilians as people began to scatter around as dark storm clouds covered the skies. (Your name)’s eyes widened. Electra was here.

    She immediately began to flee until she felt arms wrap around her as she was pulled flush against a soft body.

    “Why are you running, little rabbit?” A familiar voice asked as (you’re name began to shake in fear. “You’re so very cute when you shiver. I wonder if you’d shake like that when I-” (Your name) turned a bright red at all the horribly dirty words that came out of the woman’s mouth behind her.

   (Your name) was quickly whipped around to face her captor as her (eye color) eyes took in a tall villainous with long silver hair and a black eye mask on as well as a tight black and violet jumpsuit with a long black cape. She looked so familiar...

    (Your name) didn’t have time to study the super villain before the villainous pulled her close and surrounded the two of them into an electrical barrier as a flaming hot (literally) heroine stood outside the barrier. 

    A lean heroine stood outside the barrier, her flaming hair standing straight up as a dragon mask covered her face and her red leotard had black plated armor in the form of scales armor all over it. 

    Mistress Dragon. (Your name) thought as the red haired heroine put her hands on her hips and glared at the villainous within the barrier.

    “Electra! Release that civilian!” The woman boomed in an intimidating voice that was more than likely edited with a voice changing device.

     “No chance, Mistress Dragon. Not when your little boy toy is running around as well.”

    And soon enough, a ring of ice formed around the entire barrier as a tall, muscular male with the mask of a white fox stood along side Mistress Dragon. His costume consisted of a tight navy blue jumpsuit with silver armor plating with patches of white fur on the shoulders and around the hands and feet. 

     “Sub-Zero, glad to see you’ve made it.” Electra laughed as she grabbed (your name) and placed her plump lips on her cheek. The barrier dissolved as the two heroes began to circle the villainess, preparing to take action against her. 

   “What is your scheme this time, Electra?” Mistress Dragon growled as smoke came out from the mouth of her mask.

    “I just wanted to warn you that I know both of your identities. All thanks to this cute little rabbit.” Electra cooed as she squished (your name)’s cheeks together. “Isn’t she just precious?”

    “Electra, leave her out of this-“ Sub-Zero tried to coax the silver haired villain as the villain began to laugh darkly. 

   “No.” Electra then grabbed (your name) bridal style as she soared into the air, lavender lightning striking the ground as she rose higher and higher, (Your name) screaming as she held onto Electra tightly out of fear of falling.

    Mistress Dragon immediately shifting into a large black oriental Dragon with a fiery red mane and a peculiar septum ring as she swiftly followed behind. Electra cursing under her breath as the dragon quickly caught up to her. She’d have to ditch her prize and come back another time...

    “Let her go!”

   “Okay.” And before (your name) knew it, she was falling through the sky, plummeting to her death. Her scream piercing the air as tears fell from her eyes. She didn’t want to die, not yet at least.

    Before she could even blink, Mistress Dragon shifted and scooped her into her arms as she quickly brought the reporter into her chest, Sub-Zero making a slide for the two to slide down as they made it back to the ground safely. (Your name)’s face flushing red as she studied the masked face of her savior.

    “Are you Alright-“ (Your name) pulled Mistress Dragon close as she began to cry.

    “Thank you. Thank you so much.” (Your name) sobbed as the heroine pulled her into a hug. “How can I ever repay you-“

    “How about a kiss?” Mistress Dragon asked as Sub-Zero’s hands began to shake on the sidelines.

    “Um s-sorry. I don’t think I can.” (Your name) stayed as she began to twiddle her thumbs together nervously. “I have a crush on someone already.”

   “Oh? Well, I respect that.” Mistress Dragon then pulled away as Sub-Zero stepped in.

    “May I escort you home?” Sub-Zero asked as (your name) gulped.

    “S-sure-“

    “Sub-Zero, I think we both need to leave the little lady alone. We could always send a ride to come get her.”

    “How about you head into your place of work and ask one of your coworkers for a ride?” Sub-Zero asked the girl as he smiled gently at her.

    “I’m sure it’ll be easy to do, you’re quite cute after all.” Miss dragon told the reporter as (your name) nodded and headed back into work. The two heroes immediately leaving the scene before paparazzi could show up.

     “Do you need a ride?” (Your name) smiled as her eyes met familiar onyx orbs of her best friend.

    “Yes please.”

.

.

.

   “(Your name)!” The poor reporter almost cried when Jasper picked her up into a tight hug and twirled her as he sighed dramatically. “I’m so happy you’re okay! You were all over the news! Are you okay-“

    “Oh Jesus, leave the poor girl alone.” Ryoko interrupted as Jasper places (your name) down gently.

   “Sorry Miss Abo.” Jasper replied as Ryoko quickly began to fix (your name)’s hair and set it back into place as the reporter puffed her cheeks out.

    “Please stop touching me you two, I’m okay-“

    “(Your name), you poor little girl.” (Your name) was (height) y’all, but go off Ryoko. “We both just worry about you. Mostly me though-“

    “No I worry more. I was so scared you’d call off and I wouldn’t be able to give you an awesome assignment.”

    “Awesome assignment?”

   “Yes, I’m giving you an assignment to write an article on super heroes. I published your article on Miss Spark in the paper and everyone loved it. So I’m giving you a bigger assignment and this time you will be on the biggest magazine here. How would you like to be the main article in Times magazine?”

  (Your name) smiled as Jasper handed her the assignment. It was information on the cities top two heroes.

    “I need you to write an article on Sub-Zero and Mistress Dragon.  And lucky for you, you encountered the two of them recently.”

    “Thank you so much, Mister Jones.” (Your name) grasped Jasper’s hand as his whole face turned pink.As soon as she released his hand, he turned and coughed into his hand. Excusing himself to the restroom as he left Ryoko and (Your name) in (your name)’s tiny office.

    “I’m seriously glad you’re okay. I honestly thought you were going to take some time off. But I’m happy you’re here. It’s good to have you back.” Ryoko smacked her shoulder playfully as (your name) smiled. 

    This day was giving (your name) so much confidence. Maybe she’d finally call Miss Spark and accept her dinner date?

   (Your name) went over to her black bag, frowning as she noticed her bunny key chain was missing. She shrugged it off, she could always purchase another one.

    (Your name) reached into the middle pocket of her bag and pulled out a black card with a domino on the top of it. She released a shaky breath as she slowly dialed the number on the phone. Her (skin color) skin thumb hesitated before she pushed call, sealing her fate.

.

.

.

    (Your name) nervously sat at a table for two at a high end restaurant as she nervously sipped on a glass of bubbly white moscato. She really hoped Aria would show up.

    (Your name) glanced around the restaurant until (eye color) met violet orbs. (Your name)’s mouth hung open as she took in Aria’s elegant outfit. Aria wore a long, elegant violet dress that had diamonds sewn into it. A long, white shawl wrapped around her to hide her cleavage from wandering eyes as the tall curvaceous woman strut her way over to (your name). Her white hair was up in an elegant bun with a few silvery strands loose around her face. If (your name) didn’t know any better than Aria would be the African American Jessica Rabbit.

    “Were you waiting long?” Aria asked as she took a seat in from of the (body type) girl. Aria’s dark chocolate skinned hand touching (your name)’s lightly as the girl almost by turned into a puddle of goo. 

    “N-no.” (Your name) stuttered as her cheeks flushed pink. “I was kind of just scared that you weren’t going to show.”

   “Well of course I would, little bunny. I asked you to dinner and I didn’t expect you to call me.” The woman reached into her silver clutch and pulled out a familiar rabbit keychain. “You remind me of one of these.”

    The two of them laughed as they ordered their food and drank numerous glasses of fancy wine. And before (your name) knew it, she was drunk. Very, very drunk. And Aria was nice enough to help her into her limo.

   “I think we should call it a night, bunny. You can’t even keep your head up straight.” Aria chuckled as (your name) just gave her a goofy grin as (your name) struggled to get into the limo.

    “I really like you, Aria.” (Your name) replied as she began to giggle. “I want to go out again sometime-“

    Aria pulled (your name) in for a steamy kiss as (your name) tried to kiss back to the best of her ability. Their tongue moving in sync as Aria pulled (your name) onto her lap and let her hands grab (your name)’s plump read in her hands.

    “Let’s go back to my place, shall we?” (Your name) could only smile as Aria shut the partition as they continued their steamy make out session. Thank god the windows of the limo were tinted.

.

.

.

    (Your name) woke up with a pounding headache and completely bare in a violet, silk sheeted canopy bed. The bare form of Aria tangled in the sheets with her.

    Aria soon stirred, her violet eyes fluttering open as the silver haired woman pulled (your name) closer to her. Her plump lips kissing the exposed skin on (your name)’s neck.

    “I didn’t take you for a vixen in the sheets. You were so cute last night.” Aria cooed as (your name) flushes red. “But all those cute hickies on your shoulders are marks that you’re mine.

  “Aria-“

    “(Your name), I want you to be my girlfriend.” (Your name) smiled as she kissed Aria again. 

    “Let’s get to know each other better first and then we can be girlfriends. I need a little more time.” Aria nodded as she kissed (your name) on the forehead. 

    “I understand. I’ll wait for you.”

.

.

.

     A few months had gone by since that night with Aria. And (your name) and Aria were  officially dating. It was such a surprise to everyone. And everyone was happy for her... except Jasper and Ryoko.

    (Your name) could tell Ryoko wasn’t happy about her new relationship status due to how forced her smiles  when she occasionally caught glimpses of the purple marks on her neck she didn’t cover up well enough, but Jasper was a completely different level of upset...

    “(Your name), I brought you a bouquet of red roses!” Jasper proclaimed as the dark bags under his eyes became more prominent as time went on. He didn’t look like he was sleeping well. His skin was paler than normal and his hands were shaky as he held up the bouquet. “They’re almost as beautiful  as you-“

   “Jasper, I’m sorry. I’m in a happy relationship. I cannot accept your gift.” The roses were gently placed into her lap as Jasper’s whole body began to shake as he forced a smile.

     “A woman can’t be with another woman. Y-you’re just confused is all. You’ll come around eventually.” He gave an uneasy laugh before he clutched his hair in his hands. His pale blue eyes widening as a demented smile made its way onto his face. Jasper crouched down on the floor, his hands holding his face while the smile widened even more. The deranged male beginning to ramble to himself. “You have to... you have to love me or I’ll go even more mad...” Jasper whispered to himself while (your name) quickly scurried over to him and wrapped an arm over his shoulders. The young reporter trying to gain his attention.

    “I-I’m sorry, Mister Jones. I just don’t return your feelings and I don’t know if I ever will-“

  “One day...”

   “Excuse me?” (Your name) asked, raising a brow at him. Jasper whipped his head up, revealing his terrifying smile to her, flashing his pearly white teeth at her.

     “You will one day. I swear on it.” Jasper chuckled, pulling her close to him and holding her flush against his chest. He then stood up to his full height, practically picking the girl off the floor while he burrowed his head into (your name)’s hair. Jasper greedily inhaling her scent with the same crazed smile. She still smelled so sweet. Ice began to slowly creep onto (your name)’s jacket as (your name) felt a sudden chill up her spine. Why was she so cold? “You’ll walk down the aisle with me and then you’ll bear my children-“

   “Woah, let the little lady go please.” Ryoko separated the two as her eyes widened in shock as Jasper was basically almost revealed his powers in front of everyone. Ryoko immediately stepping in before Jasper could lose his job. “Let’s go to your office and talk, okay? You’re scaring her.”

    “I-I’m sorry.” Jasper immediately released (your name), the scared look in her eye making his heart clench as he tried not to have a meltdown. “I don’t know what came over me I-“

     (Your name) fled as he tried not to cry out her name as Ryoko led him to his office. Ryoko immediately kicking the door shut behind the two of them as she shoved him roughly into the floor.

    “You’re such an idiot. You almost blew your cover in front of everyone!” Ryoko whisper shouted at him as she kicked him in the leg roughly. “Why can’t you just keep it in your pants?!”

    “I’m in love with her! You should know! You look at her the same way I do when you think no one’s looking-“ Jasper’s head was suddenly thrown to the side as Ryoko struck him. Ryoko’s dark bangs covering her eyes as she scowled in disgust.

    “Don’t ever compare me to you. You’re disgusting-“

    “Why don’t we work together for her affections?!” Jasper shouted as Ryoko’s head snapped up. Her Onyx eyes scanning Jasper’s for any sign of him joking as she began to think. She could tell Jasper was serious for once.

    “Do you think we could do it? I mean I don’t know how I feel about sharing but do you think she’d be okay with it?”

    “What do you mean? We shouldn’t give her a choice, she’d be safe with us. We’re heroes for god’s sake-“

    “I know we are but... I want her to be happy...” Ryoko replied as she rubbed her arm nervously, her dark eyes downcast as she began to fidget under Jasper’s intense gaze. “I don’t want to force her into anything with us. It wouldn’t be the same-“

   “I know but do you really think Electra would let her go? I mean seriously? Miss Spark isn’t that good at keeping her identity hidden. I’m amazed (your name) hasn’t caught on-“

    “(Your name) is oblivious to all of us having powers. I just don’t want to scare her away. She means so much to me. I’m alright with watching her be happy with someone else, unlike you. So long as she doesn’t get hurt.”

    Jasper hummed as he glared at the floor.

    “So I’m taking it as a no until something happens to her?” Jasper asked as his ice colored eyes glazed over with some hidden emotion. 

    “Yes.” Ryoko replied as she opened the door. “Good luck, Jasper.” She then left the room as Jasper stood up headed to his desk, he hunched over his desk as he placed his palms flat on the desk. The room’s temperature dropping in temperature as ice began to cover the entire desk.

  Jasper’s breathing became ragged as he tried to calm down his rage. His fists clenching to the point that his fingernails began to draw blood in their wake. 

   He then screamed in frustration as he slammed his fist into the desk, creating a large crack on the wooden surface as he began to take deep breaths to calm himself down.

    “She’ll be mine... I swear to god.”

.

.

.

    Ryoko sat in her small apartment as she pulled out a cushion and a lighter and carried it to a spare closet in her room.

     She then lit the small vanilla scented candles to illuminate the object of her desires as she smiled. Her onyx eyes never leaving the (eye color) orbs of her love.

     A large portrait of (your name) sat in the center of the wall as well as pictures of the two of them together. Pictures of every single selfie or pose they took while they were out and about. They had been so close for years, and (your name) didn’t even understand the depth of Ryoko’s feelings for (your name). Ryoko should’ve been more assertive and maybe (your name) would’ve become her girlfriend... Ryoko bowed her head as she began to concentrate on her goal.

     “Patience is key... Electra will mess up soon... and then I’ll be there to catch you.” Ryoko face twisted into a smile that seemed unnatural for her petite face as she leaned forward. Ryoko ran her pale hands gently across the portrait as she sighed longingly. “I love you, (your name).”

.

.

.

   “Aria!” (Your name) exclaimed as she entered her lover’s office, the silver haired woman shooting up from her desk as a smile made its way to her face.

  “(Your name)!” Elegant black heels came running towards the other woman as Aria swooped (your name) into her strong arms. “How was work?”

    “It was okay. Jasper was acting strange again and Ryoko has been so distant... I miss my best friend.” Aria’s eyes darkened as she pulled (your name) into her arms and furrowed her brow. Why were those two still bothering her lover)? Did those two imbeciles not understand that (Your name) belonged to her? Maybe she’d have to make her move now before those pesky heroes snatched her up...

    “Aria, what’s wrong? Is something bothering you, baby?” Aria tried her best not to melt into a puddle at (your name)’s cute nickname for her.

    “I think we should have some dinner at my place tonight. Does wine sound good?” Aria asked as (your name) nodded excitedly, unaware of Aria’s true intentions.

    “I’ll eat or drink anything as long as it’s with you!” (Your name) beamed as Aria kisses her forehead tenderly, a frown forming on her face as (your name) buried her face into Aria’s shoulder.

    “I’m so sorry...” Aria whispered almost inaudibly as she kissed (your name)’s forehead again. She hoped to god (your name) would forgive her...

.

.

.  

   Drip. Drop. Clink. Clank.

   (Your name) slowly stirred awake as she heard the sound of a faucet dripping. Her (eye color) eyes scanning her unfamiliar surroundings. Where was she? This wasn’t Aria’s house.

    “I’m so sorry, my little rabbit.” Aria replied as (your name) searched around for her lover.

    “Aria? What’s going on? Where am I?” (Your name) tried to stand up to find her lover but was stopped by the chain attached to her ankle. “Why am I chained up-“

    “(Your name), I’m Electra.” Aria’s voice rung out in the dark as (your name) gasped.

    “Y-you’re joking right? There’s no way-“ a burst of violet electricity shot across the room, activating the lights as Aria stood in the entrance of the dark, windowless room.

    “We’re in my secret layer.” Aria replied as her violet eyes began to tear up. “The heroes are after you and I’m just so scared something bad will happen to you. I don’t want you to be caught in the crossfire-“

   “Why would they be after me-“

  “They’re your coworkers (your name). Jasper and Ryoko are Sub-Zero and Mistress Dragon.” The gears began to turn in (your name)’s head as she tried it process what Aria as saying. How could she not have noticed the signs? The septum ring on the dragon? The coldness she’d always feel around Jasper? It all made sense...

    “But why me?” (Your name) asked as Aria frowned.

    “You’re too innocent and way too sweet.” Aria replied as her smooth hands grasped (your name)’s face and kisses her forehead. “I have to defeat them and then I’ll let you go.”

    “Aria, please don’t leave me like this! Please-“ The room soon became pitch black as the door was shut to the room. (Your name)’s sobs could be heard throughout the lair as her heart broke at her lover’s betrayal.

.

.

.

   (Your name had no idea how long she was trapped in that room without seeing Aria. Hours? Days? Weeks? She didn’t know at all.

   Creak! Slam!

   (Your name)’s head whipped up from the sound of the doorbell opening. Her smile widening as she gazed expectantly at the door. A figure standing in the center of it as (you’re name) began to sob, tears filling her vision.

    “Aria-“ The figure soon feel to the ground as two figures walked in. (Eye color) eyes widening in horror as she scooted herself close to the wall.

    “W-Who are-“

  “I knew we’d find you. It took us a week to get her to tell us where you were. We were so worried when you didn’t come to work.” A familiar voice rung out at she felt a pair of hands on her cheeks. (Eye color) eyes meeting onyx as she gasped.

    “Ryoko-“

    “(Your name)! Don’t forget about me.” Jasper cooed as he grabbed her free hand and placed a gentle kiss on it. “Oh my poor darling, you’re so skinny. I promise we’ll feed you and we’ll both treat you so very well-“

      “What are you talking about?”

    “Oh silly little rabbit.” Jasper chuckled as his icy blue eyes began to glow. “You belong to us now.”

.

.

.

    “We bring to you breaking news, it turns out Aria Spark of Domino Electric was the dastardly villainess who plagued our city for so long! She is finally captured and placed in the new Super Prison the Hero Association has established far away from here. I also bring to you news that Sub-Zero and Mistress Dragon have officially retired. Who do you think the next rising hero will be of these five-“

    Tears filled (your name)’s eyes as Jasper and Ryoko sat on either side of her, both of their hands lovingly rubbing her large, swollen tummy as they both smiled.

    “I think our baby will be the next rising superhero. What do you think darling?” Jasper cooed as he kissed (your name)’s cheek as tears fell down her cheek.

    “My baby is next! I can’t wait to see you swollen with my little baby dragon. I was able to get a sperm donation from my brother so we can do invitro-fertilization.” Ryoko fondly cooed as she kisses (your name)’s cheek. 

   In the end, the heroes and villains weren’t so different between each other in her story. While her beloved villain would spend the rest of her life rotting behind bars...

  Or was she?

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Finals

Propaganda Under Cut

Sakura Haruno

Her husband is gay and her author doesn't know how to write women. So many people say she's the worst but she. DESERVES. BETTER!!! Save her from this franchise.

My baby girl my bestie my best friend. She committed the crime of um being written by kishimoto who both doesn’t know how to write women and somehow writes men in the gayest way possible specifically naruto and sasuke. Like the thing is naruto and sasuke ARE gay and also she gets so much hate for the crime of kishimoto writing her one dimensionally in love with sasuke. I know her personally she is a butch lesbian to me just trust me she’s in love with Ino and has a lesbian thing going on with Karin okay just trust me. My everything. She needs to divorce the loveless lavender marriage she’s in 

What is there to say, even? The OG Threat to my 90s anime brain, the only woman I've ever hated with such a passion she made me turn away from the color pink. I used to write fics with my friend where she got left behind on purpose so our OCs could join the Naruto and Sasuke team instead. I loathed this bitch until I was 16 and realized the author simply couldnt write women and decided it was time to make peace with Sakura. It is not her fault she's vaguely written and obsessive over Sasuke. She deserves better. Sasuke and Naruto still should be together and Sakura shouldnt be with Sasuke but I no longer believe this because I hate Sakura, it is because I love her. She deserves a spouse who will actually put in the time to treat her like the hero she is.

Misa Amane

she gets treated in-canon the way fandoms treat female characters that Threaten an m/m ship. it's like, "oh why don't you go sit in the corner and be pretty, misa, while the Men have intelligent conversation and pretend they aren't ten seconds from fucking each other, doesn't that sound nice?" it's infuriating. and MAYBE it's better now but i remember her getting treated the same way in fanfiction too, like we all need to do just as badly by our female secondary characters as fucking tsugumi ohba, but with the added insult of making her be alternately oblivious of the relationship between light and L or actively trying to sabotage it—incompetently, of course, because god forbid misa be allowed dignity or moments of cleverness.

she's one of the first characters I think of when I consider old school fandom misogyny. The annoying bitch and clingy crazy gf allegations were AFTER HER ASS. She's also a lot more intelligent than people gave her credit for, but most seem inclined to take the Very Biased word of our unreliable, narcissistic narrator and his homoerotic arch nemesis and claim that just because she's bubbly and into romance that she's also a complete moron. Which is blatantly untrue. Everyone was afraid of Misa girlbossing too hard. Killing people and devoting yourself to the deranged twink of your dreams even though you know he'll never love you back??? Having a hardcore goth aesthetic and being so Hot even literal Death Gods are into you?? God forbid women do ANYTHING!

Not only is she the victim of yaoi culture, she is the victim of early 2000s misogyny by an author that wanted to introduce a girl character because he knew his male rivals were getting too homoerotic. She is a goth bimbo icon who portrays what I think is one of the few callouts for stan culture and what parasocial relationships can do to both the stan and the idol. The fact that she is a toxic fan of Kira and also hot, funny, sociable is tragic in its own way, which I think the author did try to touch on but was too misogynistic too really get through. Of course, she was reduced to villain status by the fandom and anime alike because she got in the way of the supposed romance in their psychological horror anime

[marley-manson]

Hawkeye and Frank are the two most diametrically opposed characters on Mash. They clash politically, ideologically, emotionally, intellectually, and even physically on more than one occasion. There is virtually nothing they agree on. But they do have one significant similarity: both Hawkeye and Frank are notably, pointedly effeminate.

Hawkeye is the central protagonist, so he's written to be likeable, even admirable, especially in the first five seasons of the show when satire dominated rather than character drama. He's the character who makes the correct political points and voices the show's ideology, and male audience members are encouraged to identify with him and aspire to be like him. He's witty, he's smart, he's charismatic, he dodges consequences a lot, he's highly skilled in his work, and he has a strong personality and natural leadership qualities.

Frank is the main antagonist up until the end of season five. He's written for audiences to hate him, mock him, and occasionally be horrified by him. He's dull-witted, incompetent, awkward, easily led and manipulated, and always gets his comeuppance. Few audience members are likely to aspire to be more like Frank Burns.

And yet, while most likeable protagonist/detestable antagonist duos in American popular media would also be differentiated in terms of gender performance as a matter of course - the effeminate villain being a standard stock character, always set against a ruggedly masculine hero - Mash takes a different approach.

From his core personality as a sniveling, weak-willed follower, to the way other characters, including Hawkeye, routinely make fun of him by comparing him to a woman or insinuating that he's gay, Frank Burns certainly fits the part of weak, emasculated villain. What's more interesting, and much less commonly seen in Hollywood media, is that Hawkeye is portrayed as just as unmanly, and just as, if not more prone to having it pointed out in the show.

Often Hawkeye's jokes at Frank's expense include the implication that Hawkeye is attracted to him himself, and not necessarily as "the man." He jokes, "Guess it's a marriage, Frank. I know I can do better, but at my age, can I wait?" in Hawkeye, Get Your Gun; he switches from calling Frank one of his vampire brides to taking the feminine part in post-coital pillow talk after siphoning his blood in Germ Warfare; he kisses or tells Frank to kiss him in Major Fred C. Dobbs, For the Good of the Outfit, and Bulletin Board, etc.

Other times, the jokes Hawkeye makes about himself are virtually identical to the jokes made at Frank's expense - their respective attractions to Margaret as a potentially dominant sexual partner, eg, with both Frank and Hawkeye portrayed as eagerly submissive. For instance, in 5 O'Clock Charlie Hawkeye jokes about tying Frank to Margaret's tent, then dismisses the thought with, "He'd probably love it. I know I would." And Hawkeye/Trapper and Frank/Margaret are sometimes paralleled as dual couples, Hawkeye and Frank usually being framed as the more feminine partner in each.

And of course, unconnected to Frank, there are many, many more examples of Hawkeye's effeminacy, both in jokes and in personality traits.

Hawkeye is a self-professed coward who is loud and proud about how terrified he is to be stuck in a war zone. He's emotionally open and highly empathetic, always willing to listen to others' problems and discuss (or scream about) his own. He abhors institutional violence and faces every enemy combatant with his hands firmly in the air. When authority is thrust upon him he strives to relinquish it, and uses it as little as possible.

More shallowly, he has little interest in sports and exercise, derides masculine hobby magazines like Field and Stream and Popular Mechanics, is incapable of performing mechanical tasks to the exasperation of others at least four times (Comrades in Arms which explicitly frames this emasculating, In Love and War, Patent 4077, and Hey, Look Me Over), mocks traditional masculinity in many ways, and enjoys musical theatre and Hollywood gossip. And he makes and takes literally hundreds of jokes about being unmanly and having sex with men himself, many more than he makes at Frank's expense.

But while the jokes are at Frank's expense and meant to belittle him, they're rarely made at Hawkeye's expense, especially in the first five seasons. Hawkeye doesn't make the jokes out of self-deprecation, he makes them out of pride and a desire to differentiate himself from the army men he's surrounded by. He's almost always in on the jokes others make about him, rather than offended - Potter telling him to file a paternity suit against his rival in Hepatitis makes him laugh delightedly, and Trapper's remarks on his effeminacy, such as Miz Hawkeye in Hot Lips and Empty Arms, are sometimes lightly teasing but always a regular aspect of their dynamic that Hawkeye enjoys playing up. Frank doesn't make any jokes directly mocking Hawkeye's masculinity that I can recall, beyond vague "pervert" and "degenerate" remarks, which, while often historically homophobic, in the show's context tend to be treated as a reference to his heterosexual endeavours.

Frank's effeminacy is a point of mockery and derision, but Hawkeye's is a point of pride, and not intended to make him any less likeable to an audience. Antagonists don't get to score points off of Hawkeye by mocking his feminine traits, but Hawkeye makes fun of Frank regularly by mocking his feminine traits.

This difference in framing can partially be explained by the nature of their respective gender performances.

While Hawkeye and Frank are both effeminate, they're effeminate in many opposite ways. Frank is weak-willed while Hawkeye is strong-willed. Frank is unappealing to most women, while Hawkeye is something of a lady's man. Frank cannot face his fears to rise to a challenge, but Hawkeye can. But on the flipside, Frank refuses to admit to fear while Hawkeye openly proclaims it. Frank strives to attain authority while Hawkeye refuses it or takes it on only begrudgingly. Frank is obsessed with guns to a freudian extent while one of Hawkeye's most famous monologues of the show is a speech about refusing to carry one. Frank worships the concept of traditional masculinity even while he can't perform it himself, while Hawkeye mocks the concept and would refuse to perform it even if he could.

The Sniper is an excellent case study of these contrasts. In this episode, Hawkeye is effeminate and at ease with it, while Frank is desperate to prove himself masculine. Frank and Margaret flirt with strong Freudian overtones while Frank shoots a gun while nearby Hawkeye flirts with with a nurse with a line about "tasting" her. Hawkeye connects with the nurse he's wooing by relating to how scared she is and huddling in fear with her, while Margaret demands that Frank prove his masculinity by going out and taking down the sniper himself. Frank carries a gun while trying to approach the sniper, while Hawkeye carries a white flag. Frank tries to make fun of Hawkeye for wanting to surrender, but he can't bring himself to approach the sniper while Hawkeye does.

This contrast of gender performance is a consistent aspect of Hawkeye and Frank's dynamic throughout the show, but The Sniper makes it a central theme so it's a useful example to show how their relationships to masculinity are a deliberate aspect of their dynamic.

And while Hawkeye makes fun of Frank's femininity, it's significant that he also regularly makes fun of Frank's masculinity - his love of guns (eg The Sniper), his sexual affairs (eg the exchange about Frank as a "fantastic performer" in Yankee Doodle Doctor), his numerous attempts to exert authority (eg Welcome to Korea), his desire for socially approved success (eg Hot Lips and Empty Arms), etc.

Both masculine and feminine sides of Frank are comprised of negative character traits, while Hawkeye embodies the best of both - emotional expression and healthy ways of coping by talking about his feelings; bravery but not machismo; intelligence and skill as a doctor rather than an officer; empathy and a willingness to listen; sexual prowess but largely through his love of foreplay rather than his dick game (which, in the context of the early 70s, is a somewhat feminine attribute that distinguishes him from a typical traditionally masculine man); etc.

Hawkeye demonstrates some of the most appealing and healthy qualities of both masculinity and femininity while Frank demonstrates, or strives to demonstrate, the more toxic qualities of both. Through including a few positive masculine traits in the mix, the narrative is able to depict Hawkeye as likeable, admirable, and desirable in his effeminacy while Frank is depicted as loathesome in his. Hawkeye gets one of many, many women in The Sniper by showing vulnerability, while Frank only appeals to Margaret, and Margaret is portrayed as borderline pathological in her sexual attraction to violent masculinity (the scene where Frank excites her with his gun, for example, also includes an electra complex joke, and there's a running rape kink gag in this episode as well).

Another aspect to consider when it comes to differentiating Hawkeye and Frank's respective femininities is hypocrisy. Similar to how Frank and Margaret's affair is mocked because they can't admit to it while Hawkeye and Trapper's affairs are glorified, part of what makes Frank's effeminacy so mock-worthy, while Hawkeye's feminine qualities are a source of pride and rebellion, is that Frank refuses to admit to them.

Frank desperately wants to be the ideal heroic army man and often play-acts the part, poorly. When Hawkeye mocks him by calling him a woman, for example, he's drawing attention to Frank's failure to live up to his own ideals. And when Hawkeye calls himself a woman, he's mocking those same ideals. The message is that Frank is pathetic not so much for failing to be traditionally masculine, but for wanting to be traditionally masculine at all.

Ultimately the ways Hawkeye and Frank perform masculinity and femininity are pointedly in opposition, from which masc and fem traits they embody, to how proudly they embody them. The show itself draws attention to these gendered similarities and differences between Frank and Hawkeye through a constant barrage of jokes, and even whole scenes and episodes. In this way the show portrays Frank as a hypocritical loser who wants to be masculine but fails to embody all but the worst traits, and Hawkeye as a cool, admirable guy who disdains the traditional pillars of masculinity and embraces his own effeminacy.

[deusvervewrites]

How about 5 headcanons for an AU of your choice? Either one that was already made, or one that you come up with.

I swear someone mentioned a few weeks ago some kind of Shinsou roleswap thing but now I can't find it, nor did I get an Ask Game ask about it. It did, however, remind me of an idea I had (*checks notes*) almost exactly a year ago that I never did anything with.

Following his loss at the Sports Festival, Shinsou goes to bed that night wishing to trade places with the golden boy of 1-A. He was not expecting to wake up the next morning a year younger, going to a different school called 'Aldera.' Or being Quirkless.

Shinsou kind of goes through the motions at first because he's very confused and everyone else seems to act like everything is normal and he doesn't really know what else to do. Seeing the 1-A explosion kid is a surprise. Being bullied by him isn't.

After like a week of this, Shinsou decides that it cannot possibly get any worse than getting attacked by a Villain made of sludge. (He will change his mind later, but we'll get back to that.) All Might coming in and saving him was neat. He even got to ask if someone like him could be a Hero because the heart wants what it wants. But All Might said no. And then Bakugou got jumped by the Sludge Villain. If only he still had his Quirk. He'd deal with this easily.

The written entrance exam is much easier the second time, who would have thought. But, uh, remember before when I said that Shinsou would change his mind about things getting worse? Midoriya is there. At UA. In 1-A again. Except that he's got Shinsou's Quirk. And he's better with it than Shinsou ever was!

Midoriya meanwhile does not remember the pre-wish timeline. He's simply vibing. Doing his best with a non-physical Quirk. He never dreamed that he would impress his Hero All Might to the point that he would offer Midoriya his Quirk!

+1. At some point, Shinsou will learn about One For All and Midoriya will remember the original timeline. These events are not necessarily simultaneous.

+2. I will not explain how Shinsou's wish was granted because it's ultimately not important. I also have no idea.

[scary-grace]

the new postmodern age (chapter one) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Written for @threadbaresweater's follower milestone event, and the prompt 'a day at the beach'! Congratulations on the milestone, and thanks for giving me a chance to write this fic.

dividers by @enchanthings

Before the war, you were nothing but a common criminal, but in the world that's arisen from the ashes, you got a second chance. Five years after the final battle between the heroes and the League of Villains, you run a coffee shop in a quiet seaside town, and you're devoted to keeping your customers happy. Even customers like Shimura Tenko, who needs a second chance even more than you did -- and who's harboring a secret that could upend everything you've tried to build. Will you let the past drag both of you down? Or will you find a way, against all odds, to a new beginning? (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3

Chapter 1

You believe in second chances.

Before the war, you were living on the margins, just like the rest of even the pettiest criminals were. No one would hire someone with a record, even if the record was for something nonviolent, and that meant that you were always hungry, always freezing in the winter and getting heatstroke in the summer, always one step away from doing something worse and getting put away for good. You were going nowhere fast, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get back on your feet. It was a struggle to get up in the morning.

But after the war, something changed. Not a lot, but enough, because after a heartfelt public plea from the hero who saved the day, the world decided to care a little bit about people like you. The government passed new anti-discrimination laws, including one banning hiring discrimination against people with criminal records, and for nonviolent criminals like you, they opened up an extra opportunity – a choice between job training or a startup loan for a small business, so you could pay down your fines and restitution while adding something good to society. Sure, it was all in the name of preventing new villains from being created, but you’ll take it. You took it, picked up a loan, moved out of the city to a small town on the coast, and decided to open up a coffee shop.

You’re not really sure why you picked a coffee shop. Maybe because the town you moved to didn’t have one yet, or maybe because you used to hang out in them a lot when you had nowhere else to go. And the program you’re part of worked exactly like it was supposed to. You had to hire people to help you get the building you chose up to code, and that meant you met people in your new community. You showed those people that the criminals they hated were people, too. You’ve paid most of your fines and you’re able to break even anyway, and even though there’s a sign on the door telling everyone that you’re a convicted felon and you have to answer any questions you’re asked about it, you have customers.

Not just customers – regulars. People whose kids you’ve seen grow up, people who talk to you when they see you out and about. After five years of trying, you’ve finally carved out a place where you belong. So yeah, you believe in second chances. How could you not?

You stand back from your front window, admiring the latest addition. There’s the sign identifying your business as one sponsored by the Nonviolent Criminal Reintegration Act, but just above it, you’ve added a bigger sign: Free Internet Access. Osono, whose bakery makes the pastries you sell, studies it alongside you. “Free access? Shouldn’t it be access with purchase?”

“I thought about it a lot, but no.” You’re sort of lying. You thought about it for two seconds and that was it. “This is better.”

“It’ll attract riff-raff.”

That’s the kind of comment that used to really piss you off, but you know Osono. You know it’s just a blind spot, and you know how to respond. “Most things are online these days. Job applications, apartment listings, information on government assistance. When I was in trouble before, free internet access would have helped me a lot. And I usually bought something anyway, even if it was just a cup of coffee.”

“Not a pastry?” Osono nods at the trays stacked on her cart, and you remember that she’s waiting for you to open the door. Oops. You unlock it in a hurry and prop it open with a rock you pulled up from the beach. “Where were you getting food?”

“Wherever I could.” You were hungry a lot. And sick a lot, because sometimes you had to eat things that were expired. You don’t like to think about that very much. “I stole sometimes so I wouldn’t starve. I’ve paid it all back by now.”

“You know how to take responsibility,” Osono says. She slides back the door on your pastry case without asking and starts loading things in. “I wish more of them were like you.”

“Most of us are,” you say, as gently as you can manage. “We just need a fighting chance.”

Sometimes people forget that you’re a criminal, that you’ll carry your record around for the rest of your life. You can’t let them forget. Osono nods in the way that tells you she’s humoring you and lifts a tray of pastries you haven’t seen before out of the cart. “These are a new recipe I’m trying out. What do you think?”

“They’re pretty,” you say. “Is that chocolate in the filling?”

“And cinnamon. They aren’t vegan, but there aren’t any common allergens in them.” Osono passes you the recipe anyway, and you scribble down the ingredients on the back of the name card you’re making, just in case someone asks. “Tell me how they do, all right? If they sell decently I’ll add them to my rotation.”

“Will do.” You help her with the last few trays. “Thanks, Osono. Say hi to the kids and Naoki for me?”

“Will do.” Osono wheels the cart back out the door, then pauses to study the internet access sign. “Good luck with this.”

“Thanks.”

You wait until the delivery van pulls away before you start rearranging the pastries to your preferred setup. You add “new arrival” to the label for the new pastry, then touch the lettering to turn it a pleasant but eye-catching green before placing it front and center in the case. Then you set up your espresso machine, wake up the cash register, switch on the lights and take down the chairs from the tops of the tables – and only then do you switch on the other sign in your window. It’s seven am. Skyline Coffee and Tea is open for business.

It’s grey and cold, and the low tide is closer to noon today, which means you’re in for a busy morning as the people who walk the beach daily stop in for food and coffee first. Only one person orders one of the new pastries, but almost everyone comments on the free internet access. They say the same kind of thing Osono said, and you say the same thing you said to her if they hold still long enough for you to answer. You say it nicely. It’s an effort to say it nicely, sometimes, but it’s worth doing.

Past noon, things slow down a bit. You decide to speed-clean the espresso machine, and you’re so focused on your work that you don’t notice the customer. It’s possibly also the customer’s fault, since he’s peering at you from over the pickup counter instead of standing by the cash register, and when he barks the question at you, it startles you badly. “What’s the password?”

“On the WiFi?” You tuck your burned hand behind your back. “No password. Find a place to sit down and have at it.”

The customer looks disconcerted. Or at least you think he does – the lower half of his face is covered with a surgical mask, and given that he doesn’t have eyebrows, it’s hard to read his expression. “Why?”

“Why isn’t there a password?” You haven’t gotten that question yet. “I want people to be able to use it if they need it.”

“They’re gonna watch porn.”

“Me putting a password on the WiFi wouldn’t stop that,” you say. “And I’m not the internet police. If somebody starts acting up, I’ll deal with it. If not – just use headphones.”

The customer’s expression twists. “I didn’t mean me.”

“Sure.” You’re not a moron. “It’s not my business what you do. Unless your business starts messing with my business. Seriously. Knock yourself out.”

The customer turns away, and you spend a second being extremely grateful that you went for single-occupancy bathrooms instead of multiple-stall bathrooms before you go back to cleaning the espresso machine. Your hand hurts, but it’s nothing running it under cold water won’t fix later. When you straighten up, there’s someone at the counter.

It’s porn guy, who you really shouldn’t call porn guy. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. You dry your hands and hurry over. “What can I get for you today?”

“Black coffee.”

“Sure. Anything else?”

The customer glances at the pastry case and shakes his head. Then his stomach growls. He knows you heard it. What little of his face is visible above the mask turns red. “No.”

“Tell you what,” you say. “I’ve got these new pastries the bakery wants me to try out, but next to nobody’s tried one yet. If you agree to tell me how it was, you can have it half off.”

“I have money.” The customer shoves a credit card across the counter to you, and you see that he’s wearing fingerless gloves. Or sort of fingerless gloves. They’re missing the first three fingers on each hand. “I don’t need help.”

“No, but you’re helping me out.” You add the pastry to his order and discount it by half, then fish it out of the case with a pair of tongs. “For here or to go?”

“Here.” The customer watches as you set it on a plate. “What is that?”

“It’s babka.”

“I can read. What is it?”

“I don’t really know,” you admit. Maybe that’s why people aren’t buying them. “The filling’s chocolate and cinnamon, though. It’s hard to go wrong with that. It’ll be just a second with the coffee.”

You fill a cup, then point out the cream and sugar. Then you realize you still haven’t tapped the customer’s card. You finish ringing up the order and glance at the cardholder’s name. Shimura Tenko. He hasn’t been in before today. You’re not the best with faces, but you never forget a name.

Shimura Tenko sets up shop at the booth in the farthest corner, and although you sneak by once or twice to check on him, you’re pretty sure he’s not watching porn. People don’t usually take notes when they’re watching porn. It looks like he’s working or something. Working remote, but he doesn’t have internet access at home? Or maybe he does, and he’s just looking for a change of scenery. That’s a normal thing to do. A change of scenery is one thing Skyline Coffee and Tea is equipped to provide.

Speaking of that, it’s been a while since you changed out the mural on the café’s back wall. Your quirk, Color, lets you change the color of any object you touch, and choose how long the color sets. You’ve used it for a lot of things over the years, but now you mainly use it to create new murals every few months or so. The back wall’s been a cityscape since the fall, when you saw a picture of Tokyo’s skyline at night and got inspired. Maybe this weekend you’ll switch it out for something a little softer. If people wanted the city, they’d stay there instead of coming here.

Customers come in and out, a few lingering for conversations or to test out the free WiFi, but Shimura Tenko stays put, somehow making a single cup of black coffee last until you give the fifteen-minute warning that you’re closing up shop. Another person might be pissed about someone hanging out so long without buying anything else, but you’ve been there. You let it go, except to ask him how the babka was as he’s on his way out the door. He throws the answer back over his shoulder without looking your way. “It was fine. Nothing special.”

Fine, sure. When you go back to clear his table, you find the plate it was on wiped clean. There’s not even a smear of the filling left.

“Check this place out!” Your probation officer leans across the counter, eyes bright, out of costume and way too enthusiastic for eight in the morning. “It’s looking great in here. You changed something. New color scheme? New uniform?”

“Nope.” You don’t get nervous for your check-ins, but you don’t like the fact that they’re random. Today’s not a good day. “There’s some new stuff on the menu, and in the pastry case. Maybe that’s it.”

“No,” Present Mic says, drawing out the word. He turns in a slow circle, then whips back around with a grin. “When did you repaint that wall?”

“I didn’t paint it,” you say. It’s best to be honest. “I used my quirk. I’m not making money off of it and it’s not hurting anyone, so it falls within the terms of my probation.”

“Take it easy there, listener. I’m not trying to bust you,” Present Mic says. Heroes always say that. You know better than to buy it. “It looks good. Really brightens the place up.”

“I thought it could use it,” you say. “It’s kind of a rough time of year.”

Cold weather always brings you lots of customers, but people are sharper, unhappier, and if they’re in the mood to take it out on someone, they pick somebody who can’t make a fuss or hit back. Somebody like you. You’ve learned not to take it personally. “Not too rough financially. You’ve made all your payments on time. I checked.” Present Mic is peering into the pastry case. “How’s that free internet access thing going for you?”

“Not so bad,” you say. “The connection’s pretty fast, so I get people in here who are taking online classes, or working remote. I’ve only had to kick one person out for watching porn.”

“Yeah, he filed a complaint,” Present Mic says, and your stomach drops. “You made the right call. Don’t worry.”

You’re going to worry. It’s going to take all day for that one to wear off. “I haven’t had problems with it otherwise.”

“Why’d you do it?” Present Mic gives you a curious look. “Free stuff brings all kinds of people out of the woodwork. Why give yourself the headache?”

“I want this to be the kind of place I needed,” you say. “Somewhere safe where nobody would kick me out if I couldn’t buy more than one cup of coffee, where I could use the internet without getting in trouble for it. A headache’s worth that to me.”

It’s quiet for a second, but Present Mic being Present Mic, it doesn’t last. “You really turned a corner, huh? Hard to believe you were ever on the wrong side of the law.”

“We all could be there,” you say. “It only takes one mistake.”

Present Mic sighs. “You’re telling me. Did you catch the news last week?”

“The thing with Todoroki Touya?” The surviving members of the League of Villains all went through their own rehab, and they’re on permanent probation – and last weekend, Todoroki Touya, formerly known as Dabi, lit somebody’s motorcycle on fire after they followed him for six blocks, harassing him the whole way. “I saw. Is he getting revoked?”

“Nope. The other guy was way out of line, and the panel ruled that the majority of people – former villains or not – would have reacted similarly under that kind of pressure.” Present Mic rolls his shoulders, and his leather jacket squeaks. “All I can say is, he’s lucky we’re in the business of second chances these days. Or fifth chances.”

“Why so many?” you ask. “The rest of us are on three strikes, you’re out.”

“Yeah, but you have to mess up a lot worse for it to count as a strike,” Present Mic points out. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s a guilt thing. This whole rehab thing is Deku’s idea. And Deku never got over what happened with Shigaraki.”

Members of the League of Villains died leading up to the final battle, but of the five who made it that far, only one of them was dead at the end of the war – Shigaraki Tomura, their leader. To most people, it was good riddance to the greatest evil Japan has ever seen, but Deku’s always been publicly against that viewpoint. Insistent that All For One was the true villain. Regretful that the war ended with Shigaraki’s death, too. “Since he couldn’t save him, he’s stuck on saving the other four,” Present Mic continues. “Which equals infinite chances. So far Todoroki’s the only one who’s needed them.”

You nod. Present Mic stretches. “Let’s take a walk,” he decides. “I’ll buy coffee for both of us.”

“I can’t leave,” you say. “I don’t have anybody else to watch this place. If a customer comes by –”

“Half an hour, tops. Come on.” Present Mic produces a wallet from the inside of his leather jacket. “The sooner we leave, the sooner you can come back.”

You lock up, hating every second of it, and follow Present Mic into the cold, a to-go cup of your own coffee in your hands. Present Mic runs through the usual list of questions, the ones that cover your mindset as much as they cover your progress on your program requirements. Some of them are about how you’re getting along with the civilians in town, and you know he’ll be checking in with some of your customers, seeing if their perception lines up with yours. It feels invasive. Intrusive. Some part of you always pushes back. You always quiet it down. You made this bed for yourself, coming up on a decade ago. Now you have to lie in it.

“I’ve got some news,” Present Mic says, once he’s finished with the questions. “The program’s considering early release for some of the participants.”

“Why?”

“The legislative review’s coming up, and they want success stories,” Present Mic says. “You know, people who clawed their way out of the criminal underworld to become productive members of society. I’m putting your name on the list.”

You almost drop your coffee. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Mic says. He seems taken aback by your surprise. “I mean – you’re kind of who this thing was designed for, listener. You caught your first charge when you were underage, for a nonviolent crime, and the rest of your case is a perfect example of just one of the many problems Deku won’t shush about. Now look at you. You’ve got your own business, you’re paying back your debt to society, you’re participating in civilian life. There are civilians who don’t do that much.”

Of course they don’t. Actual civilians don’t have to prove they have a right to exist. “If you’re approved for early release, the government will waive interest on your startup loan, and I heard a rumor that they’re considering wiping charges off people’s records,” Mic continues. “It’s a pretty good deal, listener. And you’re making a pretty weird face.”

“Sorry,” you say, trying to fix it. “I mean – felonies are a forever thing. They don’t get wiped.”

“It’s just a rumor,” Mic says, and pats your shoulder. “Even if that doesn’t pan out, you could use a break on the interest. Anyway, it’s not a sure thing, but I put your name up. You’ve got as good a shot as anybody.”

You think that’s probably true, which is weird to think about. You’ve been behind the eight ball since you were in high school. Present Mic throws down the rest of his coffee, then turns back the way the two of you came. “Let’s go. I saw a pastry I wanted to buy, and I bet you have a customer or two.”

You’ve heard things about other program participants’ probation officers taking things without paying, but you got lucky with Present Mic – he always pays. Sometimes he even gives you a hard time for setting your prices too low. And he’s right about the customers. When you get back, one of your regulars is sitting cross-legged, leaning back against the locked door with his hood up and his laptop open.

It’s Shimura Tenko, who you never saw before you started offering free internet, and who’s turned into a regular ever since. The two of you don’t talk the way you do with some of your other regulars – something about the mask and the hood and the gloves tells you that Shimura isn’t looking to make friends. But he shows up two or three times a week, orders black coffee, and camps out in the corner of the café until closing time. Sometimes you can talk him into a pastry, and it’s always a babka. Whether he orders one or not, he’s always hungry when he comes in.

Shimura looks up as you and Present Mic approach. His eyes narrow, then widen abruptly, almost comically shocked. Then he slams his laptop shut, rockets to his feet, and books it, vanishing down the street and around the corner. You feel a surge of frustration. “Can you not scare my customers?”

“I’m out of costume. Even when I’m in, nobody’s scared of me.” Present Mic is lying. You’d have been scared out of your mind to run into him back in the day. “Damn, that guy was skittish. What’s his deal?”

“He’s one of my regulars.” Was one of your regulars, probably. People don’t react the way Shimura just did and come back for more. You unlock the door, feeling strangely dispirited. “Which pastry were you thinking about?”

Present Mic sticks around for an hour or so, long enough to talk to a few customers who don’t run away from him. Most of your regulars have seen him before. He leaves a little bit before noon, after eating three pastries he paid for, and as usual, the café quiets down in the afternoon. You don’t mind. Today wasn’t a good day even before Mic put in a surprise appearance and scared off a customer for good. Days like today, you’d rather have the place to yourself.

Sometimes in the midst of proving you’re a model citizen to anybody who looks your way, you forget that there’s a reason you weren’t. It wasn’t a good reason. Your family wasn’t rich, but you always had what you needed and some of what you wanted. Your parents weren’t perfect, but they loved you. You weren’t the most popular kid at school, but you always had someone to talk to. And none of that mattered, because you felt hollow and miserable and lonely no matter what else was going on around you.

Nothing you did or said could make you feel better. Everything felt the same, and everything felt awful, and no matter how hard you tried to explain, to ask for help, to raise the alarm, you couldn’t get your point across. You had a good life. What did you have to complain about?

The judge who handed you your first conviction said pretty much exactly that. You’ve heard that the sentencing guidelines for minors have changed, that untreated mental health issues are considered a mitigating factor these days, but back then it didn’t matter at all. You got help at some point. You take your meds like you’re supposed to, and you did therapy until you realized the people who monitor your probation were reading your notes. And you’re older now. You know the hollow feeling goes away. But that doesn’t mean it’s any easier to tolerate when it’s here.

You’re hanging out behind the counter, staring at your most recent mural and wishing you’d chosen something less cheerful than the field of wildflowers that’s currently decorating it, when the door opens. You barely have time to get your game face on before Shimura Tenko steps up to the counter. “Um –”

“How many heroes are you friends with?” Shimura asks shortly.

“I’m not friends with Present Mic,” you say. “That was a spot check. He’s my probation officer.”

Shimura blinks. He has crimson eyes and dark lashes, matching his dark hair. “Huh?”

“My probation officer,” you repeat. “I’m a convicted felon.”

“Don’t lie. They’d never let a convicted felon run a coffee shop.”

“I got a loan,” you say. “Through the Nonviolent Criminal Rehabilitation Act. It says so on the sign.”

“Your sign says free internet access.”

“Underneath that.” You wonder if it’s really possible that Shimura didn’t see the other sign. Maybe he was just too hyped at the prospect of free internet to look any harder. “How long have you lived here?”

“Five years.” Shimura looks defensive now. “What’s it to you?”

Five years, and you never saw him before today. He must keep to himself. “Nothing. I just – I thought everybody around here knew. I’m not very quiet about it. I’m not allowed to be.”

“Why not?”

You don’t want to do this right now, but rules are rules. “Part of the Reintegration Act involves educating civilians about where criminals come from – like, how a person goes from you to me.”

Shimura snorts. It’s rude, but not anywhere close to the rudest thing someone’s done to you when you talk about this. “The government thinks the people who are best equipped to educate about this are the actual criminals, so I’m legally obligated to answer any questions people ask me – about my record, about why I did it, about the program and why I’m doing that. So they understand what’s happening and why it’s happening. For transparency.”

“And that means anybody can question you, any time,” Shimura says, eyes narrowing.

“Yep. Stop, drop, and educate.” You wait, but he’s quiet, and you’re tired enough and hollow enough that the suspense gets to you first. “You can ask what I did. I have to tell you.”

Shimura nods – but then he doesn’t ask. About that, at least. “It’s dead in here. Did Present Mic clear everybody else out?”

“No. It gets quiet on sunny days when the tide’s low.” You nod through the window, and the sliver of beach visible between the buildings across the street. “I was thinking about closing early.”

“Why?” Shimura’s voice holds the faintest shadow of a sneer. “To walk on the beach?”

To lay facedown on your bed and wait for tears that won’t come, and won’t make you feel any better if they do. “Now you’re here, so I’m open. Do you want the usual?”

Shimura hesitates. Then he shakes his head. “Go home.”

“I’m open,” you repeat. You don’t want him to complain to Present Mic like the actual porn guy did. “Do you want the usual or do you feel like something new?”

“The usual.”

“Come on,” you say. He glares at you over his mask. There’s an old scar over his right eye. “There’s nobody here. Nobody’s going to catch you drinking something that actually tastes good.”

“The usual,” Shimura Tenko says, and crosses his arms over his chest. “And –”

He glances at the pastry case, and you see his expression shift into disappointment. It makes you sadder than it should, but you can fix it easily. You slide the babka you saved on the faint hope that he’d come back out of hiding and into full view. “One of these?”

Shimura stares at it for a full fifteen seconds before he looks up at you. “You saved it for me.”

“Yeah.” You pride yourself on knowing what your regulars like. You don’t want someone you see a few times a week to leave unsatisfied. “One babka and one black coffee, coming up.”

Shimura holds out his card, then hesitates. You’ve never seen him look uncertain at all. “And whatever you think tastes better than black coffee. One of those.”

“Really?” You can’t hide your surprise, or what an unexpected lift it is for your mood. “You won’t regret it. Which flavors do you like?”

“I don’t care.” Shimura waits while you swipe his card, then tucks it away. “This was your idea. I’m going – over there.”

He gestures at the back corner. “I know where you like to sit,” you say. “I’ll bring it out.”

As soon as he leaves, you get to work. You need to nail this. He’ll laugh at you if you bring him a tea latte, so it needs to have an espresso base. What goes well with babka? You already have chocolate and cinnamon on board – what about caramel, or hazelnut? Does he even like sweet things? He must, if he keeps ordering the damn babka. Maybe hazelnut, but what if he’s allergic? You pitch your voice to carry and see him startle. “Do you have any allergies?”

“Not to food.”

You wonder what he’s actually allergic to as you start pulling espresso shots for a chocolate hazelnut mocha. You really hope Shimura likes Nutella, because that’s exactly what this is going to taste like. Using bittersweet chocolate syrup instead of milk chocolate fixes it partway, but when you pour off a tiny bit to try it, it still tastes a lot like something you’d eat out of a jar with a spoon.

Whatever. You’re committed now. You don’t have a choice. You pour it into a cup, make some vague gesture at foam art, and carry it and the black coffee through the empty café to Shimura’s table. “One black coffee and one drink that actually tastes good.”

Shimura eyes the second cup. “What’s in there?”

“You said you didn’t care.”

“Yeah, well, now that I know you’ve done time I’m not sure I can trust you,” Shimura says, and you lock your expression down. That one hurt. A lot. He drags the cup towards himself with his right hand and lifts it to his mouth as he pulls down his mask with his left, but you’ve lost interest in the outcome. You turn and head back to the counter, trying not to feel like someone’s slapped you in the face and convincing yourself at least a little that it works.

You screw around behind the counter, taking inventory and counting down the minutes until last call, but Shimura’s back at the counter with forty-five minutes to go, an empty cup in his hand. It’s not the cup you put the black coffee in. “Fine. You win. I want another one of these.”

“Yep.” You set your clipboard aside and head back to the cash register to ring him up. “For here or to go?”

“Here.”

“I’m closing soon. To-go’s probably better.”

“Are you kicking me out?” Shimura asks. You look up at him, make eye contact, and whatever he sees in your face sets him off. Not in the way you thought it would. “Before, about the doing time thing. You know I was kidding, right?”

“Sure you were. Do you want a receipt?”

“Hey,” Shimura snaps. “It was a joke.”

“Not a good one.”

“Yeah, it was. If you –” Shimura breaks off, his scowl clear even from behind the mask. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I wouldn’t have said that if I didn’t get it.”

“Get it,” you repeat. “You’ve done time?”

“Yeah.” Shimura Tenko covers the back of his neck with one hand. “No charges, but – yeah, I did time. So it’s funny.”

“It’s still not funny.” You lift the empty cup out of Shimura’s hands and turn to start making a second Nutella-esque mocha, trying to decide if you feel better or not. “It’s just not mean.”

A shadow falls across you as you work. Shimura’s following you along the edge of the counter. “So am I getting kicked out or what?”

“Yes,” you say. “In forty-five minutes, when I close.”

Shimura’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly at the corners. You wonder what his smile looks like under that mask, but you’ve got espresso shots to pull, and you need to focus if you don’t want to burn your hand. You look away, and when you look back again, he’s at his table, laptop open, mask on, chin propped in his gloved hand. No charges, but he’s done time. You didn’t expect that. Even though you’ve spent the last five years of your life trying to prove that you’re no different than anybody else, it still catches you by surprise to learn that one of your customers is like you.

You bring the second drink by his table, then start working through your closing checklist. He stands up with five minutes to go, just like clockwork. He leaves without another word, as usual, but when you step outside, he’s still standing there. “You didn’t ask why.”

Why he did time? “Neither did you,” you say.

“Yeah, but I won’t break probation if I don’t answer.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” you say. It’s not quite dark, but the sun’s almost down, and the shadows are growing long. Late March already, but it feels like you’ve got a long way to go before spring. “If I want people who meet me to look at the person I am now, I have to do the same thing for them.”

Shimura Tenko makes a sound, half-laughter and half-scoffing. “They sure did a number on you,” he says. You turn and walk away, and his footsteps follow yours. “Hey. Come on. There’s no way you’re that sensitive.”

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m just having a bad day.”

A bad day, and you never get a day off. Even if the café’s not open, you’re still in sunshine mode every second, making sure that the people who want to treat you like a criminal look absolutely insane for doing it. You fought hard for this life. You’re glad you fought for it. And today more than usual, you’re just really tired. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Shimura says. You’re glad he doesn’t try to apologize again. You know it would be painfully insincere. “How did you know?”

“Hmm?”

“The pastry. How did you know I’d come back?”

“I didn’t,” you say. “I just hoped you would.”

You don’t know why you hoped. Maybe because he’d clearly been waiting a while when you and Present Mic got back. Maybe because you remember how much it mattered to have somewhere else to go, whether you had a place of your own or not. Maybe because you’ve gotten sort of a sense of him over the past few months, and you know he’s the kind of person who pretends not to want the things he wants. Wanting the coffee shop he hangs out in to be open and to have his favorite pastry available is such a reasonable thing to want. You were hoping he’d come back so you could give it to him.

Shimura doesn’t say anything. You keep walking, and he doesn’t follow you. When you glance back over your shoulder as you round the corner, you see him standing just outside of Skyline Coffee and Tea, staring intently at something. You can’t say for sure. But you’re pretty sure it’s the sign that explains about the NCRA.

A while back, you read that some countries set aside two days to commemorate a war. One day to celebrate that it ended, another to mourn that it happened at all. When it comes to the war you lived through, Japan does things differently. There’s just one day, a national holiday, where every government office closes and most businesses do, too. For most people, it’s a day to celebrate. There are carnivals, street fairs, concerts, parties. It’s been a holiday for exactly four years and a whole host of traditions have already sprung up around it.

But there’s one person who never celebrates, and it didn’t take you long to come around to his way of thinking. On April 4th, the fifth annual Day of Peace, you close the café early and make the trek to Kamino Ward.

You’re not sure how Kamino Ward became the place. Maybe because the final battlefield’s been overtaken by celebrations, and at least some people still see Kamino as hallowed ground. The place where the Symbol of Peace made his last stand. The place where the Symbol of Fear passed the torch onto his successor. You get there a little while before sunset, and you join the hundreds of people who’ve already gathered there. The crowd looks smaller than it did last year, and it hasn’t grown much by the time Midoriya Izuku, known to the world as Deku, climbs onto the steps leading up to the All Might statue’s plinth.

Someone hands him a microphone, which he takes with hands that tremble ever so slightly. He’s only twenty-one, and he looks old before his time. “I’m here,” he starts, then swallows hard. “I’m here because we didn’t win. Not really. If you’re here instead of at a party somewhere, I think it’s probably because you lost something. Something, or someone, who was important to you. Something you can’t get back.”

It’s quiet. It’s always quiet after he says something like that. “I’d like to think we did something. That we changed for the better,” Deku continues, “but I think we can only say that if we don’t forget what we had to lose for it to happen. So, um – you know the drill. If you brought a candle, great. If you didn’t, we have some. You can say the thing you lost if you want – we have a microphone – but when you’re done, light the candle and put it down somewhere that feels right to you.”

He takes a deep breath, lets it go. “And then you can go. But I’ll stay until they all burn out.”

People swarmed the first two years. This year they form a line, stepping up to light their candles one by one. You never know what to say when it’s your turn, because it’s not something specific you miss. The way things used to be was awful. You don’t miss that, and you weren’t close enough to anybody to lose someone who mattered in the war. But April 4th has never felt like a happy day. It feels wrong to you to be setting off fireworks and throwing parties in response to a war that almost destroyed the world.

A lot of people say names when it’s their turn to light a candle. Some say places. Some share an ideal they lost, a hero they venerated who fell from their pedestal, a dream they had that will never come true. Each lost thing named is met with respectful silence. But just like last year and the year before, there are three names that aren’t, no matter who says them. “Big Sis Magne. Bubaigawara Jin,” says Toga Himiko as she lights her candle. Say Todoroki Touya and Sako Atsuhiro and Iguchi Shuichi, who still answers to Spinner, as they light theirs. “Shigaraki Tomura.”

There’s always whispering after their names, especially Shigaraki’s. But Deku always goes last, and Deku always shuts them up. He lights his candle and grasps the microphone, speaking clearly, firmly. “Shigaraki Tomura.”

You remember what Present Mic said, about how Deku never got over failing to save Shigaraki. Deku was sixteen when he won the war. Still a kid. Was saving Shigaraki really his job? Maybe that’s the point of all this. It was everyone’s job to stop villains like Shigaraki from being created, and you all failed, so it fell to Deku – and he failed, too. It’s one big, sad, ugly mess. When you’re honest with yourself, you’re not surprised that most people try to cover it up with fireworks.

People begin to filter out of the memorial park, and you find a place to sit down. It’s not like you have somewhere else to go. The others who say settle in as well, in small groups amidst the rows and clusters of candles. You’re within earshot of one of the groups. Without meaning to, you find yourself listening in.

“They’d have hated this,” Todoroki Touya is saying, his voice low and bitter. “Every second of it.”

“Big Sis Magne wouldn’t have. And Twice would have liked it,” Toga Himiko says. Her voice is soft. “All the candles. He’d say it’s like his birthday.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Todoroki Touya’s voice goes even quieter. “Do any of us know when his birthday was?”

It’s quiet. “Shigaraki would hate this,” Todoroki states. “You know he would. What did he tell you to tell Spinner, Deku?”

Deku doesn’t answer. Spinner does. “Shigaraki Tomura fought to destroy until the very end.”

“Yeah,” Todoroki says. “To destroy. And Deku made him a martyr.”

“He destroyed a lot of things,” Deku says quietly. “All For One is gone. One For All, too – there’s never going to be another Symbol of Peace. He destroyed the way we saw villains. We don’t just get to look at what they’re doing right now. We have to think about how they got there. And he destroyed how we saw ourselves.”

“Yeah?” Spinner says. “How?”

“We didn’t think we were responsible for other people,” Deku says. “Now we have to be.”

It’s quiet again. This time it’s quiet for a while. “Whatever,” Todoroki says. “I’m going home. See you all at the next sobfest.”

“He always says that,” Spinner says, once his footsteps have faded. “He’s gonna get tanked at home and text us just like he did last year.”

“I miss Tomura-kun,” Toga says, her voice softer than before. “I thought we’d all be together at the end.”

“I know,” Deku says. “I’m sorry.”

“And you’re sure –” Spinner breaks off. “You’re sure you couldn’t get his ashes or something? So we could –”

“There was nothing left of Shigaraki,” Deku says. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Spinner says. Toga sniffles. “We know.”

The group splits, Toga in one direction, Spinner in the other. A moment later, Deku walks past you, and you do everything you can to fade into the background short of turning yourself camo-colored. It doesn’t work. “Did you hear all that?” Deku asks. You nod. He sighs, or sniffles, maybe. He looks younger up close. “You were here last year, right?”

“And the year before,” you say. The longer you look at him, the worse shape he’s in. “Um, are you okay?”

“It’s just –” Deku’s eyes well up, suddenly. “It’s hard. I can’t say what I want to say to them.”

“Why not?” you ask stupidly, and he shakes his head. “Um – do you want to sit down?”

You wouldn’t ask another hero that, but you feel like it’s worth the risk. Even though he’s twenty-one, you can’t look at him and see anything other than a kid, and it feels wrong to let a kid stand there and cry. Deku sits down next to you. “I know I’m not supposed to ask,” he starts, his voice watery, “but you never say anything when it’s your turn. Most people don’t come here. Even the ones who lost somebody would rather be at a party somewhere. Why do you come back?”

You have to think about it for a second. Deku cringes. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer.”

“I sort of do.” It might hit your probation requirements, and even if it doesn’t, you should explain anyway. “What you said earlier, in your speech – I’m one of the people the world got better for. My life would have been awful if it had stayed the same. But in order for me to have this life, we had to have the war.”

“What did you do during the war? Were you in a shelter?”

You shake your head. “The shelters banned people with criminal records,” you say. Deku’s eyes widen. “Nowhere would let me in.”

It wasn’t all that different from the way you were living before – not much food, not very safe. The only difference was a sharp increase in the number of abandoned buildings for you to crash in. But it looks like you’re making Deku feel worse, not better, and you scramble into part two of your explanation. “I’m one of the NCRA participants. That program only exists because of the war – and you, because you won’t let people forget why the war happened. So I want to remember why the war happened, too. And I want to honor it. Them.”

“Him,” Deku corrects, and your stomach clenches. “I wonder what he thinks of all of this. If it’s enough. If it’ll ever be enough. I mean, obviously it’ll never be enough for him, because he doesn’t – I mean, I can’t ask him, but I know he can see it. I don’t know where he is, but if I could just ask him –”

You didn’t realize Deku believed this strongly in the afterlife. You sit quietly, and after a few seconds, he remembers you’re there. He glances at you, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “Do you not get to talk about it very much?”

“No,” Deku admits. “People want to move on. And I don’t really blame them. But I can’t. Not until I know for sure.”

It’s quiet for a little bit. He wipes his eyes. You watch the candles flicker down a few millimeters more. “You’re in the NCRA,” Deku says finally. “For job training, or did you get a loan?”

“I got a loan,” you say. “I run a coffee shop now. With free WiFi.”

“Do people like it?”

“I think so,” you say. You think of the kids who come to study, the people who use the WiFi for remote work, the old people who walk the beach every morning and stop by for coffee and pastry afterwards. “I have regulars, anyway. And people talk to me now. They never used to.”

“People talk to me now, too,” Deku says. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “It is.”

It is, but it’s not quite what you meant, and you don’t want to interrupt when Deku starts talking about the NCRA. It’s not just that people talk to you. They talked to you before, but now they see you – not as a criminal, but as a person like them, minus the squeaky-clean record. That’s new, and that’s good. You know even less about Shigaraki Tomura than Deku does, but even if he’d hate what’s happened to the world he wanted to destroy, you’re thankful anyway. The world is better now. It’s better because of Deku, and Deku’s the way he is because of Shigaraki.

There are fireworks going off over the bay, distant enough that you can’t hear the sound. Closer than that, you hear music and laughter from a street party you passed on your way here from the train station. Deku trails off after a while, and you don’t speak up again. The two of you sit in silence until the last of the candles burns away.

You get home late, and it’s an early morning opening up the café. Luckily for you, everybody else is also running late courtesy of the holiday yesterday. Osono comes by fifteen minutes off-schedule and full of apologies, and while you’ve got your doors open by seven, it’s not until seven-fifty-eight that your first customers come through the door. It’s a double shot of espresso kind of day, and while you’re pulling them, your customers tell you about the parties they went to last night. When they ask what you did, you tell them you went into the city. It’s not a lie.

After the slow start, the shop stays quieter than usual, quiet enough that when Shimura Tenko rolls up just past noon, there’s still plenty of babka left in the pastry case. You start his order before he’s even opened the door – one black coffee, one Nutella-flavored nightmare – and he stops to drop off his stuff at his usual table before he comes up to the counter. You can tell he’s disquieted by something. “Did Present Mic come by and scare everybody off again? How are you going to keep this place open if no one’s here?”

“Mornings are a lot busier than afternoons,” you say. “And spring’s my quietest season, anyway. No tourists like there are in the summer, and it’s not very cold.”

“Yeah.” Shimura glances around, still displeased. “This place had better stay open.”

“It will,” you say. “One shot of espresso or two?”

“Three.”

“Three? It’s your funeral,” you say, but you pull the extra shot. “Late night last night?”

“I went to a party,” Shimura says. You nod. “It was my birthday.”

“Happy birthday.” You cancel half his order. You give people a free drink on their birthday, if you know it and they come in. “Your birthday is April 4th? That’s a tough draw, especially the last few years.”

“You’re telling me.” Instead of retreating to his table like usual, Shimura hovers at the bar. “What about you? Did you go to a party?”

You shake your head. “I went into the city.”

“Which city?”

“Yokohama,” you admit. Shimura’s eyes narrow. “I go to the vigil at Kamino. I have every year they’ve done it.”

“Really,” Shimura says, skeptical. “Why?”

Deku asked you the same question. You have a feeling Shimura won’t like the answer, but it’s the only one you have. “My life is better than it was before the war, because of what happened in the war. I want to be thankful for that. It doesn’t feel right to me to go to a carnival.”

Shimura doesn’t say anything, just watches you. It makes you feel weird. “If I’d known it was your birthday, though, I’d have gone to a party for that. It was your birthday way before it was the Day of Peace.” You’re babbling, and Shimura still hasn’t said a word. “Not that you’d invite me to your birthday party or anything.”

“I didn’t know you’d want to go,” Shimura says slowly. The espresso machine beeps, and you focus on it way harder than you’d do under ordinary circumstances. “Look, I – it wasn’t my party. Just a party. It’s not like I went in a fucking birthday hat.”

“That would look pretty weird with your hood still up,” you say. Shimura makes an odd sound. You look up and see the corners of his eyes crinkling again. “Still, though. I’ll remember for next year. I’ll get a cupcake or something. Even if you don’t want somebody who’s done time at your birthday party.”

Shimura laughs at that. Actually laughs. Your chest constricts, filling with warmth in a way that feels out of proportion to the situation at hand. “I only want people who’ve done time at my birthday party,” he says. “Don’t try to give me that drink for free. You letting this place go under would be a shitty birthday present.”

“Too late. It’s already free and I’m not rerunning the sale.” You pour the black coffee and set it down on the pickup counter, followed by the godawful Nutella drink. “Happy birthday plus one.”

Shimura rolls his eyes, but they’re still crinkled slightly at the corners. He doesn’t respond until he’s already halfway back to the table, and he’s so quiet that you have to strain your ears to hear. “Thanks.”

You should say something. Something like “you’re welcome”, or “any time”. Something that sounds like good customer service, instead of what you’re worried will come out of your mouth if you open it right now. The conversation is over. Nothing else needs to be said. You turn to face your small workspace, searching for a distraction. There has to be something you can clean.

It’s been so long since you had a crush that you barely remember what it’s like, but you’re pretty sure you have a crush on Shimura. As far as crushes go, he’s kind of a weird pick – because he’s a customer, because he’s not the friendliest, because he hasn’t given any indication that he likes you at all. He likes babka and free internet and the horrible off-menu mocha you make just for him. That’s it.

It feels weird to have a crush. Weird in how normal of a thing it is to do, when you’ve been so focused on looking normal and pretending to be normal that you haven’t done anything actually normal in a while. But maybe this is a good thing, and maybe it’s okay. You might get released early from your NCRA requirements, and even if you don’t, you’re doing well. You can afford to like somebody again.

The café stays quiet, and with two hours left before closing time, you’re getting bored. Bored, and you haven’t switched out the mural since before your last check-in with Present Mic. Now’s an okay time for that. You scribble a sign to prop up on the counter – I’m here, just yell – and head towards the back wall. You have to pass Shimura to get there, and as you do, he looks up. “I’m not looking,” you say. “I’ll just be over here.”

“Doing what?”

“A new mural,” you say. “Pretend I’m not here.”

Shimura decides to start right away, and you flex your fingers more out of habit than anything else. Then you set your hand on the wall and activate your quirk, changing the entire wall from the wildflower mural back to the same blank neutral as the others. That’s a good start. Now you just need to figure out what you’re going to do with it.

Actual muralists sketch and line their work. They work from references and they draft the design before they actually start painting. You know that because you used to want to be a muralist yourself. You could sketch and line things, but these days you’re more about feelings than anything else, and feelings take color. You block the wall into a few sections – you remember to do that, at least – and fill in general colors, running your fingers along the edges to blur them together. Grey base and sides. Dark-colored middle. The entire upper half of the wall is light. It’s not until you’ve added the half-circle above the horizon that you get a real understanding of what you’re making.

It's another cityscape, or the ruins of one, something you saw in photos or maybe in person. It looks a lot like the sunrise view from Kamino Ward, the sky on fire with deep purple and orange and pink and gold, the reflection of those colors splashed across the sea, the wreckage of the city bathed in morning light. You’ve done enough therapy to psychoanalyze yourself, and it’s not hard to see what you were going for with this. Things are horrible. Things were horrible for a long time before today, but the sun is still rising, and the sunrise is still beautiful. And it’s a lot easier to see now, with all the other stuff out of the way.

“That’s not paint.”

You weren’t expecting Shimura to say anything, and you weren’t expecting him to pay attention to what you’re doing. But when you look back over your shoulder, you see him staring, his phone set aside, the lid of his laptop shut. “It’s not paint,” you say. “Just my quirk.”

“How does it work?” Shimura asks. You turn back to your mural, and you hear him get to his feet. A moment later he’s standing beside you, answering his own question. “You can change the color of things you touch. And decide how long it stays that way.”

“Yeah.” After using it your whole life, you’re pretty good at it. You can fine-tune stuff, enough to add shading to the buildings and the rubble at the sides and bottom of the mural without compromising the light from the sunrise. “Not a very powerful quirk.”

“You could still cause trouble,” Shimura says. You could. And you did. “This is how you got your charges, isn’t it? Stuff like this.”

“Graffiti? Yeah,” you say. You remember the rush you got the first time you tagged something, the first time you spilled your thoughts and feelings in a way no one could ignore. “Except when you do that, you get charged with trespassing and vandalism, and when they figure out they can’t remove it, you get charged with destruction of property. Throw in malicious unlicensed quirk usage and – boom. Felonies.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Me or them?”

“Giving somebody a felony for painting stuff on walls.” Shimura studies what you’ve done so far. “All of these have been yours, right? Is this the same stuff you were painting before?”

“Not always,” you say. This conversation falls under your NCRA obligations, but it doesn’t feel like it’s the reason Shimura’s asking – and it’s not the reason you’re telling him. “When I first got into it, it was just words or sentences. Stuff I couldn’t figure out how to say out loud. The first time I really got busted, it was for tagging the side of my parents’ house.”

“Your parents called the cops on you?”

“And pressed charges,” you say. He’s staring at you again. You pretend you don’t notice and fuss over the shoreline in the mural. “I got better at it when I was older. The art got better, anyway. But I got in more trouble because of where I put it. And I guess what was in it.”

“Anything I’d have seen?”

“I don’t know. Where did you hang around?” you ask. You got booked in most of the big cities in Japan during your criminal career. “Uh, I did the UA barrier. The one with the – you know.”

“The human shields?” Shimura bursts out laughing. “Did you have a sibling in Eraserhead’s class or something?”

“No, I just thought it was stupid to do the Sports Festival a week after what happened,” you say. Shimura snickers. “It felt like they were using the kids as props to distract from how much of a mistake they’d made, and I was mad about a lot of other stuff, too, and – yeah. I kind of went off.”

You really went off. There’s no other way to describe triggering the UA barrier on purpose at two am so you could make a crude mural of All Might, Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist hiding behind a bunch of kids in school uniforms. Shimura is still snickering. “Damn. I’m surprised they call you nonviolent with how bad you hurt their feelings.”

“They had to replace the whole barrier,” you say, and Shimura wheezes. “I’m not trying to be funny.”

“No, but it is funny.” Shimura glances at you over the edge of his mask. “And now you run a coffee shop and make things like this.”

He looks away from you, back to the mural. “Is this something real? It looks familiar,” he says. Before you can answer, his eyes widen, and he says it himself. “Kamino Ward. Why would you paint it like that?”

“It’s how I see it in my head. Or how I feel it. I don’t really know.” You reach out and use the tip of your index finger to highlight one of the buildings that’s still standing in sunrise gold. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” Shimura reaches out and touches it with one gloved hand. “People are going to be pissed at you.”

“If they recognize it.” You’re not too worried. “Most people just look at the colors.”

“I recognized it.”

“You’re not most people.”

You instantly wish you hadn’t said a word. Shimura Tenko glances at you quickly, then looks back to the mural. “Yeah,” he says. “I was there.”

Your stomach drops. “You were?” you repeat hopelessly, and he nods without looking your way. “I’m sorry. It’s – insensitive. I’ll take it down –”

“No.” Shimura catches your wrist before you can make contact with the mural. “Leave it. I was gone for this part. It’s a nice view. The horizon, I mean.”

That’s your favorite part, and you’re not even done with it yet. “I still have some stuff to add,” you say. Shimura nods but doesn’t let go of your wrist. You pull at it slightly. “I need this back.”

“Fuck. Sorry.” Shimura recoils like you’ve burned him, then backs away. Way too far away. You’d say he was making fun of you, except you can see his eyes over the mask, and they’re expressive in spite of his complete lack of eyebrows. “Sorry. I don’t usually – touch people.”

“It’s okay.” Your wrist feels tingly where his hand made contact, and there are butterflies in your stomach. He doesn’t usually touch people, but he touched you. “Thanks for stopping me.”

Shimura turns away completely. “I have to work.”

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to distract you.”

“I know.” Shimura slides back into his booth. You turn back to put the finishing touches on your mural.

He’s right about it. In the hour left before you close, at least one customer who trickles in gives you a hard time for putting up something so upsetting. You listen to his concerns, but you stick to your guns, and when he sits down to wait for his order, you see him watching it. Just like Shimura is, the screen of his laptop long since gone dark.

[mallas28]

Whats wrong with this chapter?

So Horikoshi just write this weird and wrong chapter with strange structure and composition only for beautiful picture in the end? Because so many serious problems brought up in manga are unanswered like:

1. Quirk singularity. Quirk evolving every time. Humanity is still in danger. There only a matter of time when someone will appear with ability to end the world with one hand.

2. Discrimination of quirks and quirkless people. I know that Shodji het a "reward" for fighting discrimination,but we still see that it exists. Like Dai(or how is that boy was named) is still bullied for hid quirk.

3. Heroes system doesn't change at all. No matter how you change to call a hero. In final chapter we see that It doesn't change. Like raitings are still there. We see that Tokoyami and Kirishima selling their products. So heroes are still capable making a huge amount of money. So there is a matter of time when heroes will become corrupted.

4. Quirkless people can't become heroes if they are not millionaires. So Horikoshi telling me that Izuku was miserable for 8 years, waiting for teacher in order to All Might suddenly appear and give him suit? Its quite hypocritical thing anx message dont you find it. Manga literally telling me that if you are not millionaires or dont have a millionare friend you cant achieve your dreams. Wow.... Very inspiring message. I have no words.

5. Why Izuku doesn't change? I mean he still looks like a teenager. Why Horikoshi doesn't bother to change his appearance a bit. Its so confusing.

6. No ship confirmed. I think Horikoshi feared to confirmation the ship. So he let open ending. (Or maybe because a sequel).

7. No Dekus father. Horikoshi promised to show Dekus dad. But ot was droped for nothing. Fans were waiting. But nothing happens. Horikoshi again chickened? As he did with ships?

8. No one dies except villains. Don't get me wrong i am not eager for blood or smth. But you have a FINAL WAR. And you spared even pilots with no names at all. Is this serious? Is this fair and called Final war?

I really hoping for sequel announcement in 5th August. Because so many questions still unanswered. Horikoshi as a writer really dissapointed me a lot. He chickened to do many things in order to make all fans pleased then his work lost his own shine.

If sequel will be out i wish that Horikoshi could have a strong willed and skilled editor. Who will encourage Horikoshi to write complex story. I think Horikoshi is too afraid lost popularity that he easy to change his own story to please everyone.

This ending was bad in many ways. To be honest i never ever read ending worst than that. Even Fairy Tale final chapter was better written.

I hope for sequel.

[let-us-cultivate-our-garden]

The reason why the toh fandom can have such wildly diverging interpretations of the Wittebane story is because the show did not do its job. How old was Philip when Caleb left? Did Caleb truly believe in witch hunting or was he just playing along to what the town expected? Did Caleb ever tell Philip anything? Did he ever talk to his brother and try to change his mind? How long was Philip searching for Caleb? How did he get cursed? How exactly did the knife fight start? Did Philip kill Caleb accidentally or on purpose? Did he kill him only because he married a witch or because he left him? Or both?

The fact is, we don't have definitive answers to any of these. We only have educated guesses based on portraits barely glimpsed in the show that lack any context, Masha's barebones version of events, and Belos' self-justifications. Casual fans shouldn't have to be knee-deep in fandom just to get the main villain's backstory, especially when said story is the literal basis of the whole plot.

Plus, if you're going to spend the final half of your last season barely exploring the villain's origins, only to completely ignore it in the series finale, then you've written a bad ending.

Update: This is getting some notes so I'm including additional thoughts to the original post. The rest will be under the read more:

Just to add onto this because some folks argue that we don’t need his backstory because we already have the essentials or it’s not really important to the plot. The thing is though is that Belos’ story launches the entire plot of the show, his character and motivation are the direct result of actions that happened centuries before the main characters were born. It needs to be depicted and not largely inferred. 

His story is important to creating a more fleshed out character and can strengthen the themes of the show (the rivalry between Eda and Lilith and Luz struggling to fit in at home are parallels to Belos). Instead the show gives little kernels of his story and character that make him more interesting than just Evil Emperor (the fact that the brothers became witch hunters to fit in, the fact that Belos worst memories are of killing Caleb and making grimwalkers are never touched on again). The first (and last) time we see Caleb in a full scene is in For the Future and it has huge implications for the dynamic between the two brothers. But again, nothing is done with it. It seemed like the show was building up that Belos’ lies and self-justifications would lead to his undoing but it doesn’t. So him dying with his ideology and self-delusions intact feels empty.

The worst part of how the Wittebane story is handled is that since it’s largely inferred and you have to be pretty involved in fandom to have a more nuanced take of it, a casual fan can easily just accept other characters’ views on the matter. Masha says “looks like little bro was jealous of big bro” and it undercuts the story of the Wittebanes (to say nothing of the tonal whiplash). The Titan dismisses Belos as only caring for himself and to be the hero, which while technically true, misses a lot of context and makes it easy to dismiss Belos as a whole as simply being evil and crazy instead of a more layered villain. And it can’t be argued that these are just the characters’ perspectives and we shouldn’t take it at face value because there’s nothing really in the show to pushback against that. 

Now, yes, it is fun to imagine how the Wittebane story played out and in hindsight, it’s probably better that the show didn’t depict the entire story because they probably would have botched it. But the point remains that the handling of this storyline was a mess (and don’t give me the cancellation excuse, the show learned early on about this and wrote all of 2B with it in mind). The Wittebane story and Belos as a whole showcase why setup and payoff matter. You show the villain feels guilt about their worst deeds? What’s the payoff to that? The villain was originally an outsider who tried to fit in and conformed to a town’s toxic ideologies? What’s the payoff? The villain continually lies to himself and commits atrocities to justify his actions? What’s the payoff? 

If you’re going to raise interesting and thought-provoking questions then don’t give the audience a simplistic answer.

[super-paper]

I still don’t understand AFO. Why is he like this. This series repeatedly goes out of it’s way to humanize the villains but AFO is still just evil because he wants to be the demon lord and I don’t get it.

That would be the point, I feel-- AFO doesn't want to be understood or seen as "human." He wants to completely lose himself in character, wants other people to mindlessly play along with the story he's written for himself like good little extras, and wants everyone around him to acknowledge what a ~perfectly inhuman demon lord~ he is-- and he's bent the entire narrative of MHA around himself like a shield in order to accomplish that. Like, the idea of people breaking the same black and white narrative that he's been using to protect himself (and trap others) quite literally drives him insane:

"That murderer--" "You killer--" oooooo you're so mad that human nature is basically good, that people are endlessly capable of growth and healing, and that actual human beings can't simply be shoved into teeny black and white fictional boxes ooooo all the more evidence that he's gonna completely lose his shit when Tomura ultimately refuses to kill Izuku lmao

I wanna point out his speech bubbles in the second image, bc Hori frequently uses speech bubbles to emphasize a character's mental state-- Like.... Bro is literally coming apart at the seams with rage that Stain is trying to be anything more than a starter villain. 😭The english translation also kind of sort of makes it seem like AFO is simply referring to Stain by his moniker (Hero Killer), but the term he uses in the original text feels a little more... loaded, imho?? The kanji used for Stain's "Hero Killer" Moniker is "Goroshi" ("殺ごろし"), but here, AFO instead refers to him as a "Murderer" (殺人犯/satsujin-han). Calling Stain an out-and-out murderer instead of calling him by a villain moniker feels a lot more specific, a lot more pointed, and it also tells us a lot more about AFO’s fucked up sense of values.

Anyway, I've said this before, but AFO is a character who reads heavily as an escapist fantasy gone horrifically wrong. "Why is a world where villains are allowed to climb back up from rock bottom and heal so intolerable to AFO?" "why does the idea of people breaking free from their roles make AFO so angry?" "why is AFO literally trying to BECOME a comic book character?" are better questions to ask than "why is bro just evil for the sake of it," I feel. Like obviously, a world where the label of "villain" gets thoroughly and utterly dismantled is one where AFO loses his power over others.... but it's also a world that rips that protective layer of "fiction" away from him, exposes his own humanity, and destroys that delusion of becoming the "perfect villain king" that he's wrapped himself up in.

tfw you LARP so hard that it ends up getting your brother killed and now breaking character means you gotta Process All Of That .................................................... Unless...? :)

What I find especially interesting about AFO is that MHA's narrative actually cooperates with shielding him from the readers, to a degree-- scenes that depict rare moments of genuine emotion are overlaid with contrary, cartoonishly evil narration that's meant to distract the reader from what's actually being depicted. The bulk of the series depicts his face being hidden in shadows even though it *literally* has no reason to be, and we don't get an unobscured look until the other characters finally start rallying together to reject his story. He is literally introduced to the series through a TV screen, which MHA has been using as a shorthand for its depiction of fantasy since day one:

In my opinion, I feel the final act of "rejection" that AFO fears isn't from his brother, or his followers, or "his other self"-- what he fears is the story itself rejecting him and finally exposing him for what he is: an utterly mundane human. Like, a total freak of a guy to be sure, but still totally human. The narrative revoking its various "protections" and working against AFO to humanize him acts as the final insult to everything he claims to believe in while doubling as the last bit of confirmation that he was never gonna become a "perfect demon lord." MHA being what it is, this is something inevitable.

Where other characters in this series draw strength from their origin-- the moment that defines them as a human and individual-- AFO likely fears and rejects his own origin for this same reason.

Anyway. I would describe AFO as a wannabe-author who refuses to make public appearances or divulge details about his personal life, but ultimately reveals a little too much about himself through the "stories" and "characters" he tries to write-- so ppl still know he's a freak with issues by virtue of how fatherless his content is. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Putting together all the pieces of himself that AFO accidentally lets slip is part of what makes MHA so fun (to me, at least!).

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Dreava Bleek, Gallowood Sheriff

It's a gruesome business enforcing the law, especially when the laws are written by an aristocracy who wants their subjects submissive and terrified and it's your business to keep them that way.

There have always been people like Dreava Bleek, blunt instruments that enforce the social order so those at the top needn't bloody their hands. They do it for many reasons; coin, ambition, sadism, but in the case of this villain it's misplaced righteousness: Dreava has had a hatred burning in the pit where her heart should be since she was a child, a bone deep conviction that if people just knew their place and followed the rules that the world could be a place of pace. Nevermind the powerful that abuse the system for their own gain, nevermind the starving poor who break the law only to fill their bellies. In Dreava's word there are only good citizens and criminals, and criminals will hang.

Adventure Hooks:

Dreava earned both her reputation and her title in her campaign against the Gallerwood outlaws, a band of highwaymen who were famed for robbing everyone from wizards and duchesses and who Dreava left hanging from the trees along the edge of their forest. After her little stunt folks started calling the area "Gallowwood" and speaking of how her victims still haunt the roads looking for one last take. Some others mention a secret hideout that the sheriff never found, in which the thieves kept their most valued treasures.

The two easiest ways for the party to end up in Dreava's sights are to already be criminals, or to make themselves the enemy of some belligerent noble who can accuse them (accurately or not) of some transgression of the law

Backgorund: Dreava was young when darkness was wrought upon her soul, when a series of poor harvests and overstepping officials saw her little village rise with its neighbours in a revolt against their feudal overlord. She lost her home and her mother not in the uprising itself but in the violent pillage the lord's forces were allowed after its brutal suppression.

A flip of the coin and Dreava could have been a rebel fighting against authority, but in those grim days the alchemy of terror instilled in her an understanding of just what happens when the poor overstep the place allotted to them by their betters.

Since then her life has followed a pattern. Get hired on by some lord after having difficulty with bandits or other such rabblerousers. Make a show of brutal violence that seems to put an end to the problem for good. Continue to build her reputation until she either becomes her patron's bloody left hand, making their followers just as brutal and jackbooted as she is. End up entering into the service of another lord either on recommendation or after she's ousted for some violence that not even the benefice of the nobility can forgive.

Further Adventures:

Rather than a head on confrontation, Dreava will seek to bait the party into a trap, either by setting up an ambush or going after their known associates. Coerce, intimidate, brutalize, leashed in only by the very limit of what the law might allow. If she doesn't have proof of the party's guilt she'll drag them off to a dungeon to await a sham trial (from which they might be able to escape), but if she's been given the goahead by her superiors she'll gladly execute the heroes in the field, a grim situation which has it's own escape methods.

All her life the sheriff had sworn by the goddess Erathis, seeing herself as a champion of law and civilization. What a surprise for her then after the heroes sever her soul from her body to awake in the halls of the lord of all hells.  While the other gods turned their heads away in shame and disgust, Asmodeus watched with appreciation as Dreava bent her life to punishing sinners, and now offers her the chance to do so again, this time in his service. With a new master to serve and chip on her shoulder against the party Dreava will gladly agree, emerging from her damnation with a newly fiendish form. Consider having her emerge as a surprise villain several levels after the party thought her dead, and the head of a band of fiendish cultists.

Art

[pikahlua]

the equating survival to a reward argument is so silly when like... pro-heroes also died during the first war arc. named pro-heroes like midnight and stars & stripes. with that argument, are these characters being punished, too??

then again, the same people making this argument also say horikoshi is too tired of this series (a tired assumption ppl always make about wsj mangaka) and too lazy and uncommitted towards any of his ideas; so, maybe its better to ignore these bad faith arguments.

"Too lazy and uncommitted towards any of his ideas"? They really say that??

It seems to me like the exact opposite is the issue! I'm pretty sure Horikoshi had this ending planned from very early on to emphasize the overall message, but as he wrote and fleshed out his characters, his writing opened up a totally different avenue he COULD have taken with them (the villains, for instance) that everyone EXPECTED him to take, but in the end he stuck to his original idea. Anyone who has written a long story likely knows that feeling of when what you write takes on a whole new form than you planned and you have to question if you wanna change your direction.

And none of that changes the fact that survival does not equal reward and death does not equal punishment. I've seen posts that claim OVERHAUL's survival is somehow a reward and I just go ????HUH????

[writingpromptneeds]

quotes from pinterest. all prompts were found on pinterest under the search 'quotes'.

'No one expects an angel to set the world on fire.' 'And like the moon, we must go through phases of emptiness to feel full again.' 'Everybody has a chapter they don't read out loud.' 'You deserve to be loved and chosen - not almost loved, or almost chosen.' 'It's hard to forget your past when it's written all over your body.' 'I like it when you smile. But I love it when I'm the reason.' 'I wonder what I look like in your eyes.' 'Missing you comes in waves. Tonight, I'm drowning.' 'You didn't go through all of that for nothing.' 'I don't want anything from you. Just everything with you.' 'Treat me like a joke, and I'll leave you like it's funny.' 'Hearts are wild creatures, that's why our ribs are cages.' 'I don't know where I'm going from here, but I promise it won't be boring.' 'I was quiet, but I was not blind.' 'The villain will always be the villain if the hero tells the story.' 'Better an 'oops' than a 'what if'.' 'Your opinion of me doesn't define who I am.' 'You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.' 'I am too insane to explain and you are too normal to understand.' 'If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever.' 'What a plot twist you were.' 'For most people, it's all history now. But for me, whenever I close my eyes, it all comes back clearly.' 'Because I remembered. I remembered everything.' 'I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.' 'You're like snow. Beautiful but cold.' 'The question isn't who is going to let me; it's who is going to stop me?' 'I talk about you like you put the stars in the sky.' 'Should friends look at each other the way we do?'

[kanohivolitakk]

Your recent posts reminded me of Greg wanting Matau to be the turncoat in WoS instead of Vakama and trying to make Vakama's fall from grace into something he apparently fakes in the novelization (failing bc it still comes off as a genuine fall from grace and tbh i think it enhances what the movie already had going for it). Its like he wants to make simple black-and-white sort of characters but he just keeps adding complexity to them apparently by mistake

Oh yeah, Greg really disliked Vakamas heel-turn and vocally expressed his distaste for it whenever asked what aspects of the series he personally didn't like or would've turned differently. Ironically the reasons he disliked Vakamas heelturn gives a really weird reading of Vakama: from what I recall he felt it was OOC for someone as dutybound, honorable and passionate of his job as a Toa as Vakama to abandon his duty and I'm just sitting here like. Greg. Are we talking about the same character? Vakama spent an entire arc seeing himself as not worthy of being a toa. How can you say a man who spent most of the story being in the refusal of call phase and struggles with self-worth wouldn't be suspectible for temptation?

I don't know if you know this, but your comment on Greg wanting to write simple black- and white morality actually isn't that off mark as you may think. Greg actually has said a few times that he doesn't like villain redemptions (or complex villains at all for that matter), and prefers to write simple villains, because that's just something he personally prefers. Interestingly Greg does like prefering complex heroes though, and loves to make heroes with flaws, who are tested and fail at times. He has actually explained this paradox a few time: goodness is challenging, evilness is simple to be tempted by and it is far easier for good guys to fall to the dark side than the other way around. His mindset is essentially that one classic Ursula Le Guin quote of how evilness is simple and good is complex.

And while I get that mindset idk..I just find that rather limiting. Maybe it is because I personally prefer when characters are human and complex regardless of their moral alingment but Greg's idea of heroes being complex and villains being simple never sat with me. Especially when a lot of his better written characters were villains and morally ambigious characters. While Greg did succeed in writing some compelling and likable heroes, he really excelled at making some damn memorable and at times interesting villains. So for Greg to dismiss some of his more morally complicated characters as being more simple than they come across in the text itself is rather frustrating. Like, Greg you wrote some damn interesting characters, stop making them less interesting than they actually are.

I also feel Greg's statement of villains and heroes is somewhat ironic when you remember that three of his best written and most memorable characters are: 1. arguably the only redeemed villain in the entire series 2. a morally ambigious catgirl who can flipflop between an antagonist and antihero depending on the story 3. Unholy fusion of Joker and Deadpool who started as a villain only for later stories to use him as either a neutral wildcard or outright antihero. All three are characters he has admitted of liking, with at least one of them (the catgirl) being among his personal favorites. So basically outliers to the general writing philosophy he had.