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kckenobi · 4 years

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Author Interview Game

Ahh thanks for the tag @pandora15 and @giggles-and-freckles!

Name: Kasey

Fandoms: primarily Star Wars right now! Of course there’s been others I’ve dabbled in over the years, but Star Wars is my steadfast ride or die lol.

Where you post: I post my longer, more involved fics to ao3, and my short stuff from prompts on tumblr. I feel like I consider my ao3 as a portfolio of the fics I put the most time and effort into, and tumblr is just for fun and fulfilling prompts.

Most popular oneshot: Shelter!

Which cracks me up, because while I totally loved writing it, it’s so self-indulgent and kind of plotless lol—basically some classic sickfic, where Obi-Wan and Anakin are trapped in the briefing room while Obi-Wan has a migraine. I’m glad people like it!

Most popular multichap: Roots is my only multichapter fic lol, so it’s the most popular by default. But yikes there are some things about Roots that make me bigtime cringe now (mostly my misguided thoughts about what ‘attachment’ was before I got on tumblr lol, and my stilted pacing and clunky metaphors), even though it’s only been a few months since I wrote it—but hey, such is growth lol

Favorite story you’ve written: Ooh probably In Memoriam. It was the hardest one to write I think, and I remember having to really work for the pacing because there’s so much tension—like how Anakin gets more and more upset, and Obi-Wan is feeling sick but also wants to keep it together to figure out what’s bothering Anakin, etc etc. So trying to figure out the peaks and valleys and all that was a fun challenge.

I also have a lot of love for the fics @katierosefun and I wrote together, like loose stitches—that’s just been such an awesome thing to do, and they all have a special place in my heart!

Fic you were nervous to post: Some Things You Just Can’t Speak About! I’d never written Bail Organa before so I was worried about getting his voice right, and I was worried the Council scene was gonna be flat and boring, and I was scared of making Obi-Wan come across as too fragile, or the Council as cold and unfeeling.

How you choose your titles: they usually come from a line in the fic that points to the theme somehow. I almost always “find” my title as I’m writing—like there’s usually a moment where I write a line and go OH there it is—there’s the title! Either that, or an appropriate Taylor swift lyric lol.

Do you outline? Yup, almost always! I find it helps me beat writer’s block—my outlines are often almost like a really shitty first draft, like the whole story is there in detail, dialogue and all, it’s just super poorly written lol. But somehow it’s a loophole to my perfectionism, cause my brain goes “ah! It’s bullet points! So we’re allowed to write trash!” But gOD FORBID I try to write the first draft without bullet points or brain shuts off and threatens to never let me write anything ever again—

Complete: I have 27 fics on ao3, and I’ve posted somewhere around 24 just on tumblr. So technically 51 total, since I started posting stuff in April. (There’s also the tomb of my unpublished fic from before this year, when I just wrote for myself and didn’t share it, but I feel like those don’t count lol)

In progress: i just started working on a post-Geonosis fic where Obi-Wan as Anakin are both grieving in different ways and over different things. Anakin is helping Obi-Wan cut his hair when it turns into an argument which turns into a breakdown, which turns into some comfort and hugs and happier things :))) I’m also doing some requests, and a fic where Obi-Wan is having dizzy spells, but doesn’t tell anyone about them until everyone finds out in the most dramatic way possible lol

Coming soon/not yet started: waaaaay too many. I have a doc called “sw brainstorm and ideas” and it’s 15 pages of nothing but fic ideas lol. But the few I’ll probably get to soonest are here in this post :)

Prompts: I love taking prompts! Rn I have sooooooo many unanswered in my inbox. I was trying to write 2 per day this week, but I kinda got thrown off yesterday—things just got a little messier in the mental health department, and I needed to take a break from them to help myself feel better. I’m hoping to get back to them soon when I’m feeling a bit more myself, which I’m definitely starting to :)

Upcoming Work You’re Most Excited About: I’ve outlined a continuation of this fic, which I’m calling “Burial,” and it’s a 5+1 things of all the times Obi-Wan buried someone or something important. Also hype for this fic about Anakin giving Obi-Wan a haircut, and a surprise one involving....lit nerd Obi-Wan, my fave

No pressure tags: @lightasthesun @katierosefun @soplantyourownflowers @obirain @tessiete and any other writers who wanna jump on this!

#tag game

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wittystiles · 5 years

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The Bluff || Part 17 || Mitch Rapp

author: wittystiles

word count: 2k+

relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader

warnings: none

A/N: Hello there! I’m back - sorta - finally. I got a weird urge to write this the other day, after not thinking about it for months. And I wrote this in two days. It isn’t edited, so if it’s terrible, that’s why. Please enjoy! Feedback is crucial, as well, so... Please reblog, comment, etc. I’m a whore for validation.

Turning his back to the shower head, Mitch closed his eyes and let the water beat on his face as he leaned his head back. He had spent a good portion of the beginning of his shower with the water beating down on his chest while he thought. He hated that he was doing that. Just /thinking/. Hated standing there going over everything in annoying detail, trying to pick apart every thought he had.

Spain.

He didn’t know what emotions he was feeling or how to process everything. He had started his shower angry. Partially because of Stans intrusion, but mostly because he was being forced to leave. Again. He’d just gotten a plan into action to keep (Y/N) safe. Surely that should take precedence over whatever mission they were throwing him in to.

Halfway through shampooing his hair for the second time (it felt particularly gritty underneath his fingertips and one wash hadn’t sated him) his emotions switched to being an uncomfortable mix of what he could only decipher as disappointment and a dash of sadness. During the time it had taken him to clean up her apartment, catch a few winks and then return to his own home he’d made the foolish mistake of letting his mind wander into dangerous fields of possibilities with his rescue.

While he was sweeping up a pile of broken glass he’d imagined buying plates with her, and cups too. Thought of the dull domesticity of the action. Of watching her get excited over an owl mug - he didn’t even know if she liked owls. Of picking something out that would be theirs. Together. To share.

That had led his mind into a whirlwind of further ‘our’s’. Like picking out a new bed with her, he’d decided his current wouldn’t be big enough for the two of them. Sure she was a cuddler, but she also valued her space grately when she decided to splay out. Arguing over a new couch because his ‘simply wouldn’t do’. Getting new large and plush towels so he could wrap her up after a shower and she would be covered and warm. He knew she hated shivering after getting out of a hot shower and figured that would be the only way to prevent it.

His mind had crafted an entire life together in the hours he’d had to dwell on everything. And now that he knew he was leaving her again, it all felt pretty fucking pointless to him. Foolish. The disappointment set in then. The disappointment of never being able to experience those simple moments with her. He knew they were imagined, but he wished he could bring them to fruition. And now? Now he was going to be away for only God knew how long. And she would be gone when he returned. He was sure.

She was a smart (albeit naive) young woman. She was charming, and beautiful. And she wasn’t going to wait around in some dingy apartment of some dude who she’d only known a month. Especially when the only reasoning for her to be there in the first place was his protection. Protection which he could no longer offer her while in Goddamned Spain.

That was when the sadness began creeping into his brain like a thick ooze. It occurred to him while he was massaging conditioner into his too-long locks (he really needed a haircut he remembered), that this was the first time since he’d lost his fiancee that he was wanting someone. That he was envisioning himself giving more to another person than just a one night stand. He found himself thinking of a future with (Y/N). Of a life together. He knew he was falling for her, but these last 24 hours had cemented into his mind the fact that he truly, in all sense of the word, wanted her. Wanted to give everything he could to her. Wanted to take a terrifying plunge into oblivion and hope against every instinct telling him to run that she wouldn’t destroy him.

The folder on the counter was taking that. Was washing all of those hopes and thoughts and visions away. His last mission (her) had kept him away from his home for over a month. What if this one were the same? What if he had to abandon her for that long? He couldn’t bring himself to think of anything bad, truly awful, happening to her. He’d already allocated too much time to terrible thoughts when he’d found out her apartment had been broken into. He instead thought of something he found worse.

Of losing her to someone else.

The sadness thickened when he came to that conclusion. If he returned and found she’d moved on -.

He stopped himself. She was never his. She wasn’t someone he could claim. She couldn’t ‘move on’ when she never had stopped. She was under his protection. She looked to him as a source of safety, security. He was, for all intents and purposes, her bodyguard. He couldn’t let himself get worked up over the thought of coming home and finding her in the arms of another. That was her right. Couldn’t let the jealousy that was beginning to eat at the corners of his mind ever become a thing. He didn’t have her. He would never have her.

“Fuck,” he mumbled to himself, cranking the handle of the shower all of the way to the left. The water ran cold while he was lost in thought and it made his body tense and shiver. He stood there for a moment, letting the cold water beat down on his body with his hand rest upon the wall, and the anger came back.

“Fucking Stan.”

When the water heated back up, he took his hand off the wall. He resumed showering as normal, remembering to let the condition sit in his hair for longer than normal after the three shampooings (he’d forgotten he’d already washed twice). He used the remains of his loofah to clean himself, and promptly tossed the mangled thing out of the shower onto the floor beside the trash can.

Once washed off and hair free of product, he stepped out onto the bath mat outside of the shower, ripping his towel off the rack. He secured it around his waist and surveyed the bathroom. A thick cloud of steam was in the air and he had to crack the bathroom door open to let some of it out. He walked to the counter, using his left hand to rub the mirror in a circular motion so he could clear off some of the fog. He saw himself through droplets of water and the corners of his mouth fell.

He looked tired.

Worse, he looked exhausted. Thoroughly beaten and worn. His eyes were a little sunken in, dark purple coloring his under eyes. His face had a near beards worth of stubble, and his cheeks were more hollow than usual. By all accounts he looked like he hadn’t been taking care of himself. Which was true. He hadn’t. He couldn’t remember his last full meal, and the last restful nights sleep he’d had was after showering with (Y/N).

His throat constricted when he remembered it. Thought back to looking down at her on his knees in front of him, lips spread wide and eyes looking up at his own. He closed his eyes, tilting his head down, leaning heavier against the counter. His mind vividly painted the scene against his eyelids. She was so gentle and attentive to him. So willing and accepting. He swallowed hard.

The memory switched to that next morning. Of his head between her thighs. Of how she felt against his tongue, soft and warm. Of how she wriggled and moved and how her breath would catch.

“Stop,” he hissed to himself, forcing his eyes open, willing himself to keep from getting hard. He returned his attention to the reflection in the mirror. He could see himself clearer now that the fog had subsided and the condensation had evaporated from the surface. His skin remained tanned from his trip to Mexico a few months back. He didn’t think he’d ever spent that much time in the sun consecutively in his life. The scar on his chest from that day stood out. He brought his hand away from the counter to rub the tips of his fingers over it. He hated it. There were several other scars placed along his chest and abdomen. He paid them no attention. His jaw tightened. It alarmed him how his life had been upended that day. How everything changed in the span of ten minutes. How he would never again be the same. Be sane. Be normal.

“Come on man,” he whispered to himself, letting his hand linger on the scar for a few heartbeats before lowering. He resumed examining his face, his hair, his body. He decided he hated his hair. It needed to be shortened. “You look like a fuckin’ hippie,” he said in his best impression of Stan’s voice.

Mitch stepped back from the counter and opened the doors underneath, rooting around for a moment before finding a pair of scissors. He stood upright and ran his hand through his hair. Without hesitation he raised the scissors and cut off a chunk of hair that was hanging limply against his shoulder. He let it fall into the basin of the sink and repeated the process, over and over, letting the hair accumulate until he felt like he was done.

He set the scissors done and assessed himself in the mirror, looking over the sloppy job he’d done. His hair was now just underneath his chin, uneven but passable. He found his brush in his medicine cabinet and raked it through his hair, pressing his lips together in contemplation. He wasn’t entirely proud of his new cut now that he’d brushed it and he could see it better, but it would do.

He brushed his hands over his shoulders to get rid of the stray hair, dried off and left the bathroom. He would deal with the sink later. As he was passing through the living room towards his closet a knock sounded against his front door. He paused, arching an eyebrow. If someone who didn’t favor him was on the other side of the door, he didn’t want to have to fight them naked. He grabbed the gun that was stuffed between the cushions of the couch, figuring it would even the playing field, and approached the door as another knock rang out.

He didn’t bother checking the peephole, instead pulling the door open about an inch, looking at the person through the crack. When he could process who it was his eyes widened and he stepped back, allowing the door to open fully. “Why are you here?”

(Y/N) frowned at him. “You said you’d be back like -” she looked down at her cracked phone. “Over two hours ago. I got hungry, and I remembered you told me your address before you left.. So..” She held up a plastic bag. “Can I come in?”

He stepped to the side, allowing her to enter the apartment. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by how unkempt and poorly decorated it was. She walked around him and headed for the small kitchen at the back of the apartment, acting like she’d been there hundreds of times. “Thanks,” she called over her shoulder as she set the bag down. Mitch closed the front door and engaged the deadbolt before following her.

“I’m sorry that I took so long,” he began, resting his hands on his hips to keep his towel secure. “I got caught up with some things and I needed to have a shower.”

She turned her attention to him and her eyes narrowed, “what the hell did you do?”

He took a step back from her, furrowing his brows in confusion. “Pardon me?”

“To your hair,” she clarified, pointing her finger at him.

“Cut it.”

She scoffed a mocking laugh, “cut it? You fucking hacked it to pieces! Jesus. Did you close your eyes and just start snipping?”

Mitch brought his hand up to his hair, running his fingers through it while feeling defensive. “I thought I did an okay job.”

She shook her head, closing the distance between them to close her hand around his arm. “An ‘okay job’, Mitch? Are you blind?” She began walking towards his bathroom, tugging him along. He wanted to resist, to put up a fight but instead followed her dutifully. She released his arm and motioned to the toilet, which he took a seat on immediately.

She looked over the sink and sighed heavily, picking up the brush and scissors. “This is going to take forever to fix,” she declared, beginning to drag the brush through his locks.

Mitch let her brush his hair as he fought the smile that wanted to creep onto his lips. He found all of his thoughts in the shower were pushed to the back burner because /she was here./ She’d come to him, willingly.

Maybe this means she might want me too, he thought hopefully as she got to the real work.

Feedback is appreciated! I hope you enjoyed.

Tags: @ellie-bee242 , @cathobs , @redstringlovers , @lovefilledtragedy , @sumcp, @teamwolf2411, @confidentrose, @daddyxraeken, @iloveteenwolf24-blog, @kalista-rankins, @stilinski-stydia-obrien, @rumoured-whispers, @omgimafuckingmermaid, @cuillere, @dylan-void, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @fuckwhateverfuck, @maxytwombly, @itsamberh, @haveyoumetmeyet, @kal-pal, @infinitstydia, @thenovarose, @anamcg317, @terriblewife, @thelonesoul, @rebeccaannex3, @behind-my-hazeleyes27, @girlwiththerubyslippers, @x-mitch-rapp-x, @mainlymieczyslawstilinski, @veronicarapp, @kaylinfayezink, @a–1–1–3, @rxppmxtch, @lietomeat3am, @xxxxdelenaxxxx, @mentalc0re, @gendryia, @ashotofblues, @dancingalone21, @16wiishes, @a–1–1–3, @assholeofthanos, @gothcryptid-gf, @yuslut,

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cowandcalf · 5 years

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10.11. – Review and some musing

Since yesterday I'm thinking about how to start this review. I guess it'll end up being an ode to McDanno. Because let's be honest…still after such a long time, years of being in love, my love for the boys is a blazing fire. They make me sit on the edge of the couch, smiling stupidly, happy with what I witness what's happening between them. They make me sweat and grin and cry and gasp for air.

So, I start with the boys. Honestly, I've never expected season 10 to be so freaking full of McDanno moments. Gosh, I'm still a bit beside myself. For example, the scene in Steve's office. Danny…Danny. This handsome man (and the haircut! This freaking hot Mohawk, gah!!!) gets me twisted in knots because I try to find out what's he's up to. Danny doesn't normally admit to Steve his inner secrets. The way he confessed so openly why he has made up the mold story? Uh-huh. Intense. He shows feelings. Shows how much he was worried about Steve without being ironic and ranting and cutting the air to pieces with his hands. Intense. That what it was. And Steve? Steve takes Danny's confession in stride, kind of shifts on his seat and says he was touched. Steve doesn't really know what he should do with this piece of information even though he’s known it the whole time. It's kind of a load of emotions getting dumped on Steve only to grow in intensity a second later.

The bonsai comment? So not Danny-like, at least, not to the Danny I'm used to. He admits just openly that he's started that hobby for therapeutic reasons, telling there that he's not okay, that he's needed some support, some help from the shrink-corner and that's new. Did he visit a therapist? A psychologist? Does he still have sessions? Steve didn't ask any of this but the questions hang in the air. Danny, being just Danny, tells him of course, he doesn't normally inform everyone that he has a bonsai but he's just said it to Steve. So, he wants Steve to know and he even takes his miniature tree to Steve's house where he’s gong to trim this little precious tree with the special clipper doing this with a steaming cup of coffee beside him on Steve’s table only dressed in a flimsy shirt and old boxer shorts and Steve forgets how to breathe and decides to wear only sweat pants made of heavy cotton farbric. Not so easy to stretch. So, many hidden signs.

And what's with the burst pipe full of sewage? Yak, that's something traumatic when that happens, meaning Danny’s house was flooded with that stuff, ugh. At least, the bathroom and normally Danny would freak out, ranting, complaining, telling everyone how he's drawn the short straw from life. But none of this is happening. Danny smiles when he explains how the shit-smell has chased him out of his own home and he seeks refuge…at Steve's house. I'm sure he just made that story up, too and Steve knows this but still. Six to eight weeks! That's a long time and they haven't even mentioned where Danny would sleep. Maybe with Grace gone and Charlie growing older Danny feels lonesome and needs company.

But I can't get over Danny's sweet smile. The smile where he's asking Steve to let him crash at his place. It's a smile where one couldn't hide effectively enough the crush, they have one the one person that stands right in front of them. It's a sweet, tender, meaningful smile, uncommonly in Danny's repertoire to make faces. It's a gentle, genuine smile and it's connected to the stay at Steve's place. And normally Danny is the one who's annoyed and not Steve. Somehow the tables have turned and Danny tries to coax Steve into doing something Steve's not so fond of just for the fun of teasing Danny. Steve plays the annoyed one very well and all he can come up with are used towels. Ha!

Danny pushes boundaries twice in a short amount of time. He barges in Steve's door the first time without telling or calling or asking if it's okay with Steve. Now, just the same. He packs his bags and even takes his bonsai with him, stores his luggage in the office for Steve to see because Danny knows already Steve won't say no. So, what has Danny in mind? Living together for about two months? Jesus! I love this scene. It reveals Danny's softer side, an unexpected side. He wants to be with Steve that's a fact. And Steve lets him. I'm really curious about what's going on. Guys!!!! Ahhhh!

And the helicopter scene! That's another great McDanno moment. First, Danny jokes about animals although he loves animals. But he teases Steve about the gooses. And Steve comes up with the helicopter ride and doesn't even ask Danny if he's okay with it. He knows very well that Danny hates to fly with him. And oh, surprise! Danny goes! He jokes about the wild goose chase and Tani rolls her eyes at the boys! But Danny doesn’t scream and digs his heels in the ground just for the reason to show how much he doesn't want to be with Steve in a freaking helicopter, in the air!! Nope, he just went after Steve again with this mysterious smile.

As for the record, I…god…I loved seeing them paired up again, chasing bad guys, like in the old days. Time changes things, I get that but it was a great moment. And guess what. Steve is super correct and knows all the rules and is the pilot of the helicopter and yet he lets Danny use his cell although is highly prohibited and against the rules. But he lets Danny be. And Danny gives two shits about rules because they're in a no-fly zone because of gooses so no rules. And that's heavily teasing and an odd flirting with Steve. He dares him and Steve goes with it as always.

And I love that Steve still trusts Danny with all he's got. The Adam case bothers him and he leaves it to Danny to get through to his rogue team member. But Steve can't deny himself the comment if Danny can manage secrecy and Danny only lifts an eyebrow, tilting his head and quips a nice answer in return. Not offended in the slightest. That's really new and I freaking love it. Danny is much more relaxed and that rises my interest.

The guys going to live together for a longer time. That's going to be interesting and my heart whispers already poems of love…mm-hmm.

The half-season finale was just as good, as fantastic as every episode from season 10. I'm so in love. There's something thrilling about this season. It's heavy on the feels. The unexpected McDanno moments throw me. It's overwhelming. The cases are interesting and I never forget that it just a show and things might be bent a bit until they fit. Yes, they mess up timelines and don't follow up often on loose ends. I don't really dwell on those moments. I take what I get and I tend to extract the best moments for me. These 42 minutes and something always fills me with a giddy joy. I'm still enjoying every moment. It's still a wild ride and every episode leaves me with a lot to think about.

Lou is surprisingly fun. He's the one I struggle with the most. He's often over the top but so far, his scenes are filled with quip, pulling faces while discussing important leads, adding a lot of solid ohana-feelings and deep-rooted devotion to the team. This season Lou kind of grows on me. He's good people when he's not losing himself in some stupid, senseless explanation about how to dip malasadas in coffee or how to be a respected young man, or some stories about the good ol' days in Chicago.

The team has grown together. Tani fills her shoes and she walks tall. She's badass, proud, unwavering and would make Kono proud. She's full of admiration for Steve with the needed respect. But she's also the one who kind of sees the private person behind Steve the boss-man. She's caring and she's not afraid to show it. She loves Steve deeply, like a sister. She also breeches with ease Steve's professional persona. She expresses feelings and thoughts that have Steve gulp because it's so honest and straightforward and I love that.

Junior… man, this guy captured my heart. He's great. He's Earth where Steve's Air. They match as perfect Brothers. I'm always calm knowing Steve's not totally detached from his former, very important life as a SEAL. Junior watches out for him. Always, everywhere. He's grown a fantastic backbone and I'll never get tired of watching him morphing into a SEAL. He becomes a brother and a teammate for Steve. My heart still skips a few beats remembering the scene where they freed Joe White and Steve ordered him to stay behind, to not get entangled with the danger. And Junior's answer came sharply and precisely like a shot. "Today I'm a Seal and you're not my boss. We're a team and I'm coming with you." He said it with such confidence it blew me away. And it took Steve one second to recognize Junior as his brother. Junior is Steve's younger brother and he's always all in or nothing. I love his courage and the tender, shy side he always shows together with Tani. I love this boy and he's a good company for Steve. Keeps him sane.

Adam…Adam. Yeah, there's a lot going on. The way he laid down his gun and the badge was dramatic. I'm not sure yet what to think of that. I have always liked Adam. He fits into the team although he has never undergone any police training. He's born and bred Yakuza got taught from his father, a big name in that world. He should have had the courage to just tell Steve that things went wrong and he has to quit the team. That would have been the right thing to do.

The way he did hide information to safe his girlfriend was okay for me. Steve would have done the same, Lou and also Danny were already in such a situation and they just did what had to be done without informing anyone. But with Adam things went sideways and he went rogue, also emotionally and friendship-wise. After everything was settled he should have gone to Steve and get things out of the way. Steve would have understood. There, I don’t get Adam’s intentions.

Quitting the team like that? The worst imaginable way for Steve. You don't just quit the team and that's an emotional blow for Steve just because Steve cares for every single member on his team. But as I see it, Adam's world shifted when he lost Kono. Being an important member of the Yakuza makes you a slave, for a lifetime. You never can get out. So, they say. No freaking chance. Adam's history proves that. He killed his brother. He tried to be an honest businessman only to realize his past bites him in the ass. He ran away and tried to start a new life with Kono only to lose Kono to her obsession with a case that grew out of hand. Adam loves with all he's got. He has found new love with an old friend, unsurprisingly a daughter of a Yakuza boss. Adam grew up with all those people and now he's back in this energy. He knows the game. He's found a new woman and he loves again. For a man like Adam, he will do everything in his power to protect his woman. He won't lose again a woman he loves.

And his move to quit the team is about the woman he now loves. He has to stay close, by her side. Maybe he realized he only can really play one tune, only be fully immersed in one game, being on the Yakuza team. He betrays Five-O but as it seems Adam has reached a crossroad and his decision is made when he sits down at the head of a big table with other members of Tamiko's family and members of her father's clan.

Quinn…she wasn't in the episode and with some shame I have to admit I didn't even realize it. Not until someone pointed out that Quinn was missing. God, that's so horrible of me. She's a great team member but I seem to have a blind spot for her on the team. She doesn't leave an imprint. I can't tell you why. It's just…she's there and it's really good and she isn't and I don't miss her.

And the cliffhanger! Wo Fat is back. His name at least and seeing Steve's face when he spits his name revealed how much it pains him to just spell it. I think Steve might still have nightmares over what he had to undergo getting tortured, getting to hear dark, poisonous secrets his mother designed and everything came back to haunt Steve never to be really free of that massive emotional trauma. And now his nemesis is back in the form of Wo Fat's former wife. Just as cruel, brutal and cold-hearted as her husband. A killer seeking revenge with the deep wish to get to Steve.

Wow!

Season 10…ten points out of ten!

#h50 #h50spoilers #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #my edit #h50edit #h50 review #review #10.11.#h50 half-season finale #cowandcalf writes #musing #mcdanno #my fangirl goggles are always on

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drops-of-moonlights · 5 years

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The Specialists plus 2 plus Roy retouched! Thoren will be handled in a different post. More on them below!

Not many big changes on the guys, their Specialist outfits got a slight retouch and the two magi got their full transformation line.

Sky, Riven, Nex, Brandon and Timmy share a dorm and are Team 3Q, and they’re all in their second year at the start of the series. Riven is older than them, as like Stella he failed his first year, though out of aggresion and an accident than just an accident like Stella. Nex is now a specialist from the start since I have specific plans for the Paladins in the AU. Riven has longer hair because his turnip ‘do was Bad, and Sky also has longer hair specifically to spite his S5 haircut. They still have the wings from the previous redesign in their armor, I just didn’t draw it. On each of them individually!

Sky Calem Beaufort: Crown Prince of Eraklyon, pretended to be his squire Brandon for 2 years when entering Red Fountain due to the recent assasination attempts done on him when he was still unknown to the public by the rogue team of Yoshinoya. He’s sweet and courageous, and has formal training with swords and shields, but he has a habit of procrastinating important stuff and not wanting to talk about royal duties, which is the root of the issue with him, Bloom and Diaspro in S1. Was betrothed to Diaspro since they were both kids, but neither loved each other and was purely a political agreement.

Brandon Ortiz: Squire of the Crown Prince, second oldest son of 5 siblings. He’s a very jovial person and prone to crack jokes and flirt, but he’s also the most responsible of the team and will hold them by the neck as if kittens if they misbehave. Son of a teacher and a guard, he’s a good cook and agile with his spear, and is one of the main frontliners alongside Riven. While he sticks with Sky due to his job, his friendship with him is real and he’s usually the first one to find out about his issues.

Riven Altamura: Held back a year, he’s a grumpy Orc who’s trying to adapt to the situation. He got along horribly with his previous team, and he’s trying to see how his relationship with the rest will develop. While his face is almost always stuck in an annoyed look, he’s more experienced than the other 4 and tries to guide them whenever they seem to fail, but since he’s prideful and with a short temper, it almost always ends up in a small argument. His father died when he was little, and enrolled in Red Fountain to give some relief to his mom once they started to run into monetary problems. He’s the main frontliner of the team, and favors sabres and other curved swords to fight, though he also has a good handle on maces. He’s a Solarian, and being of age, as a tatoo of a red comet on his back.

Nex Arancelle: a particularly cocky half-elf, Nex is their second midliner alongside Sky and mostly fights with daggers or axes. He’s equally prideful as Riven and likes to argue, so they butt heads most of the time. He’s a genuinely nice person despite this, and will be the first person to try and defuse a potentially heated situation alongside Brandon when they arise. Everyone in his family are performers or actors, and has inherited their dramatics, which tend to bother everyone else. He translates his gymnastics and gestures into battle, however, and becomes a competent and flexible warrior. He’s from Magix, especifically from the Soraia District.

Timothy “Timmy” Ayton: A somewhat shy elf, he’s their main gunslinger and long range fighter. Timmy is very smart and confident in his intelligence, and will gleefully correct everyone else once in a while, but he’s insecure in his social skills and sticks to his team most of the time, only occasionally talking to other classmates. He’s their fastest fighter and has a decent skill with daggers, but he sticks with his guns most of the time as none of the other guys are good with aim, especially aim from a distance. He comes from Dolona.

Helia Saladin: he’s the grandson of Headmaster Aure Saladin and is a dropout of Red Fountain. He’s a fervent pacifist and has been since a young age, but went to Red Fountain out of obligation and left the school after a heated argument with his family after the first semester, which he had passed with great scores. He works as a small-time traditional artists and lives in Magix City, but occassionally helps the guys whenever they ask him, thought only as support and healing. He’s the Witch of Alloys with powers over minerals and metal and appears as a Glamourix fairy from the start, earning Enchantix behind the scenes in S4 and getting Altheix at the end of S4. Lynphean-Esperian.

Nabu Grant Daithe: an Andrian noble, he was born and conceived with the sole purpose of marrying the soon-to-be-born Princess Aisha, and was raised since his youth to be king consort. He vehemently opposed the marriage, however, and shortly before their scheduled meeting, he ran away from home and went undercover as Ophir, a young performer working in Magix. We meet him at Charmix level, and earns his Glamourix near the end of S3 when finally confronting his parents alongside Aisha. He gets his Enchantix at the end of S4, and then gets Onyrix during S6. His title is Fairy of Midnight, with power over shadows

Roy Sean: he works for the Andrian Royal Family as their boat driver, and has known Aisha since she was a little girl, when he was still in training. He’s 6-7 years older than the rest of the guys, and makes his first appearance in S3 when ferrying the Winx to Mareia to save Ligea and the merfolk. He’s also a merman, and is a Sorcerer - the Sorcerer of Sea Brezees, with power over wind. He remains in Energix the entirety of the series, since he doesn’t take a very active role unlike the other guys.

#Winx Club #Winx Redux AU #Drops's Art #Sky #Riven #Brandon #Timmy #Nex #Helia #Nabu #Roy

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portokali · 4 years

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i just finished reading a Darker Shade of Magic yesterday (I'll start the 2nd one today) and it was fun but im not here to make a book review im here to talk about my girl lila bard

Shes VERY clearly & obviously my favorite character, i hear crossdreessing girl and i. lose my shit

although there werent all that many other characters to root for tbh, just her, kell and what, who else? rhy? the worlds felt kiiinda empty but this is bordering on Book Review territory which i am resolved Not to do so here:

the heterosexual relationship found me fine by it???? unexpectedly??? dont get me wrong if kell and lila had been mlm/wlw best friends they wouldve been 1000% more powerful but i had NO expectations for sth that powerful. ive seen vschwabs haircut and its not. but she got me rooting for them in no time so props to her for that!

shes. canonically (???) shorter than kell which i have elected to throw out the window in how i see the characters in MY head. in the first scene where they meet he says that she was a shadow, only longer than him. hello? this was probably only meant in a metaphorical fake deep way BUT idc idgaf tall girl lila bard shes taller than him and you 👏 cant 👏 change 👏 my 👏 mind 👏

i know. i just KNOW. there will eventually be a scene where she gets all dolled up & pretty in a dress & kell sees her and goes all 😍😍 but also makes sassy comments abt it and they banter back and forth and its all cute and flirty and im going to not be a fan

Thats all i have to say for now, hopefully the trilogy keeps being good 🧡 id love to talk about it if any of yall want but PLEASE dont send me spoilers, thatd be fucked up. love love peace peace

#shades of magic #lila bard #talk.mp3

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knivestothroats · 5 years

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Part 8

Previous Parts

Welcome to my FAVORITE CHAPTER, Y’ALL!! I love me a fight scene. Plus there’s like emotional payoff or whatever.

THE GOOD STUFF: Fight! Fight! Fight!, Luke and Ace finally get a chance to talk, haircuts as a metaphor for the state of your life, a coupla yucks

THE BAD STUFF: Mind control (referenced in past), memory loss, bullying?, minor panic attack, fistfight, attempted choking, someone gets their face smashed but it’s not too graphic

Luke’s friend had been right – Luke did try to reach out to Ace. What his friend hadn’t known was that Ace would be so panicked the moment Luke approached them, that they probably hadn’t needed anyone to tell them to keep their distance. Ace’s brain read the event like a wild Pokémon encounter and selected the “flee” option.

All Luke had managed to say was, “Hey, Ace, I wanted to talk to you.”

Ace’s very calm and collected response was, “I – I have to go. S-sorry.”

“Okay, well, when can we…” Luke started, but Ace was already hurrying away. “Alright. See you… later,” Luke said to the space where an Ace-shaped cloud of dust would have been in a cartoon.

In the safety of their room, Ace continued to panic. They paced the floor and tried to regulate their breathing, keeping a hand on their chest to feel the frantic beating of their heart. Ace ran their other hand through their hair, fingers tangling and tugging on the overgrown locks. They turned and glared into their mirror, staring themselves down.

If they want to feel like themselves again, they decided they should start trying to look like themselves again. Usually Matty would take the clippers to the sides of Ace’s head, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Ace truly felt desperate.

Ace tried their best to shave their own head, doing what they could with the mirror and using the fingers to find the edges of their Mohawk where they couldn’t see. Trimming the long part was pretty much a gamble. They didn’t bother trying to strip the dark brown from their hair, opting the go straight to layering on the color.

The end result was patchy, uneven, and red-tinted at best. But they had their hairstyle back, and they had done it themselves. No one else had made this change to them, and they found solace in this small measure of control.

That is until the next day in the cafeteria; then they just felt self-conscious. More accurately, they had felt self-conscious since they had left the infirmary, and now they felt embarrassed. Hunched over their meal, they rested a hand protectively on the back of their head, fingers running over the sloppy buzz cut. They told themselves that this was just another day to get through, and all they had to do was keep their head down.

But then a tray was set onto the table next to them, and Ace looked up.

“Mind if we sit here?” Luke asked, already lowering himself into a chair. Three others, including the friend who had told Ace to keep their distance, hovered around the other seats. They looked less sure about the situation than Luke did.

“Uh, you can do whatever you want,” Ace shrugged.

“This is Mark,” Luke said, gesturing to the friend Ace had already met. He looked uncomfortable, but just gave Ace a nod. “This is Jo, and that’s Harley,” Luke continued. They gave small greetings and Ace gave one back as Luke introduced them. “This is Ace. We, uh… I mean, I guess we don’t really know each other, even though we spent a lot of time together.”

“Yeah, I… in my mind, we just met,” Ace said, keeping their eyes on their food.

“Yeah, I guess we sort of have,” Luke said, keeping his tone light, seemingly effortlessly. “It wasn’t really you before. I’ve been…” he chuckled, and tried to choose his words carefully. “It was kind of a, uh, pet project of mine to figure out how to have a conversation with you while you were under mind control. I’m hoping it’ll be easier now.”

Ace said nothing, so Luke pressed on.

“I see you cut you hair. Did you do it yourself?”

Ace scoffed and ran their hand over their head again. “That obvious?”

“No, it looks good!” Luke insisted. “I need to get mine done too. My roots are gonna be longer than the blond soon. I’m thinking about doing something new, though. Might get rid of the blond altogether.”

Ace picked at their food. “What, uh… what were you thinking about doing instead?” they asked in an attempt to keep any awkward silence at bay.

“I don’t know, I might–”

“Nice haircut,” a voice cut in. Ace didn’t have to turn around to know it was Tate, no doubt with his two usual accomplices. Luke and his friends watched them approach, eyes flicking between them and very tense Ace. The four of them might not have known who these people were, but they were quickly making their own assumptions. Tate’s shit-eating grin and Ace’s white-knuckled fist on the table said enough.

“Is this guy a problem? Because he’s coming over…” Harley muttered to Ace. They hadn’t needed to, as only a moment later Tate’s hand was on the back of Ace’s head.

He shoved Ace’s head down toward their tray of food. Ace was holding steady, but Tate kept pushing, so they gave in. They pushed their tray out of the way and made sure to catch their forehead in their hand as they allowed Tate to slam their head into the table. Ace straightened up as Tate and his friends laughed, but they didn’t turn to face them.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Luke snapped at them.

Ace gave him a sideways look. “It’s fine,” they hissed. But it was too late. Luke had drawn Tate’s attention towards himself.

Tate leaned over him, resting his hand on the table. “You sticking up for the killer? I guess you two spent a lot of time together, huh? Maybe they shoulda checked you for brainwashing.”

He reached out toward Luke – whether to push him or grab him or whatever, he never made it. Ace’s hand darted out and grabbed Tate’s wrist. They stood up and threw their whole body into a punch, landing it squarely in Tate’s face.

Ace let go as Tate staggered backwards. His two friends moved forward.

The one on Ace’s left tried to throw a hook punch, but Ace stopped his arm. They sent a palm to his nose, an elbow to the side of his head, and then a sweep kick to his ankle in quick succession, sending him to the floor.

An arm wrapped around Ace’s throat from behind. Ace twisted toward the gap at their attacker’s elbow to gain some breathing space. They stabbed an elbow into their attacker’s ribs, and kicked back their heel into his shin. When the grip loosened, Ace grabbed the arm at their throat and flipped the assailant forward, onto the first one on the floor. The two of them scrambling over each other would buy Ace some time. Tate was coming back at them.

He threw a couple punches, which Ace managed to block or dodge. Tate managed to grab Ace, but they kneed him in the groin and broke free. He doubled over slightly, and Ace swung their hands in over his ears, pulling him down further so they could send a high knee to his face.

Ace watched him stagger backwards, disoriented. They couldn’t help but smile.

In their periphery, they saw someone getting up from the ground. Ace spun on them delivered a swift blow to the throat. The giddiness of being in – and winning – a fight was getting to Ace, and then they decided to show off with a tornado kick, knocking their opponent back onto the ground. They felt a hand pull their shoulder, and they turned right into Tate’s fist. He tried to throw another, but Ace blocked it and retaliated.

Tate was still disoriented enough to be knocked backwards easily, and Ace managed to pinned his back down on an empty table. A tight fist on the front of his shirt, holding him there, Ace began to repeatedly punch him in the face. Filled with rage, stocked up from having to take the looks, the scorn, the abuse. From not being able to fight back after three months of not being able to control their own actions. The thrill of being in control, the adrenaline of a fight, the joy of winning. It propelled their fist back and forward over and over. There was strength in each punch, satisfaction each time it connected.

They drew back again and a hand caught their arm.

Assuming one of the others had gotten up and rejoined the fight, Ace spun around and used their free hand to send a hook punch into Brooks’ jaw.

He immediately let go of Ace’s arm, so it technically worked.

Ace jumped back, hands flying over their mouth.

Brooks rubbed his jaw, readjusted his glasses, and gave Ace a look.

“I’m… so sorry…” Ace said. And they were, but they were also trying not to laugh.

While the others managed to pick themselves up, Tate sunk down to the floor, face mired with blood.

“You two, take him and get yourselves to the infirmary,” Brooks ordered. “I’ll be down in a minute, and we’re going to talk about what happened.”

Nobody moved for a moment, maybe deciding if they should protest.

“Go. Now.”

The two others hoisted up Tate and half-dragged him out of the cafeteria. Brooks turned to Ace, who was standing with their arms crossed, suppressing a smile.

“You, I will talk to later,” Brooks said, using his Order Giving Voice, knowing it carried without needing to yell. He shifted then, so that he was closer to Ace with his back to the onlookers. Quietly, he said, “Glad to have you back. Enjoy the rest of your lunch.” He nodded toward Luke and his friends before turning to leave.

Ace returned to their seat, no longer able to hide their grin. They sat back comfortably in their chair and resumed eating lunch. The others looked at each other, unsure of what to say, until Jo spoke up and asked, “What the fuck was that?”

“How do you mean?” Ace asked, swallowing their food.

“Why the hell were you letting those guys fuck with you if you could kick their asses that easily?” Luke asked.

“A lot of people here blame me for what happened, and/or think I’m going to hurt someone on the team again. So I had to, you know, not hurt anyone on the team.”

“And… you just got sick of it?” Harley asked.

“Uh…” Ace drummed their fingers on the table. “I could take it, but… he tried to fuck with Luke,” Ace said sheepishly.

Luke blinked. “You beat those guys up for me?”

Ace looked at him and said, “I beat those guys up for us.”

[continues here]

#ace #original #writing #whump #whump series #whump ocs #whump blog #mind control #memory loss #fight scene #defiant whumpee #whumpee turned whumper #no holds barred #no holds barred beatdown

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ofeliaslullaby · 5 years

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Fleabag Season 2: A Discourse on Love

Finally caved and watched season 2 of Fleabag. And I say caved as if I haven't been waiting for this show to come back for a solid 2 years...but I was saving it for a day when I truly needed something to rival my own stuff. I knew Fleabag would, because it had when the first season premiered in the US. The poetry of the show really has a way of putting some things into perspective. Season 1 seemed like a discourse on friendship, grief, guilt and self-worth. Season 2 felt like a discourse on love. There will be spoilers.

Firstly:

This season was a love story. Not the storybook, happily-ever-after love (There are no happily-ever-afters in Fleabagland, just there-will-be-pain-but-it-will-get-better-afters), but love in all it's grotesque complexity. After watching the season I took the "this is a love story" opener to not just be about Fleabag's ironic love for the Catholic Priest, but loving yourself (Belinda's monologue, Claire's haircut, Fleabag's new care for herself), familial love (Fleabag's relationship with her sister and father), Martin's love for Claire, and Claire's love for her work and Klare (Claire/Klare will never not be funny and cute). And the Godmother "loves" the Father and art but really I think she just loves attention and the idea of eccentrism.

The first episode hits you hard. It takes place over a year after we leave Fleabag at the end of season 1, and she's doing well, as is the guinea pig café. She is seemingly no longer blaming herself for Boo's death, no longer using sex as a form of escapism, and genuinely valuing herself. We once again get to voyeur through some of Fleabag's life moments. When it all kicks off we go from insufferable family dinner/engagement party for the Dad and the Godmother (who I didn't even remember were not married) with the Catholic Priest they got to marry them, brother-in-law Martin who we despise and the sister we haven't spoken to in over a year; to a tragic and intimate scene in the restaurant bathroom between the two sisters, and almost immediately back to the awkward dinner table where all hilarious hell breaks loose. This formula continues, as it did in the first. If you're not laughing, you're wanting to cry. Such is life, I suppose.

You get a little more context this season behind Claire and Fleabag's relationship. Like all relationships its complex (I feel like there were times when it felt like my relationship with my older sister), but there is love there. So much love. In the bathroom scene in the first episode it is obvious Fleabag is concerned for her sister, while her Claire is distraught, embarrassed, and eventually we come to find out relieved. When they get back to the table and Martin makes remarks that are clearly only hurting the Claire's feelings, Fleabag intervenes because she loves her sister and doesn't want to see her suffer anymore that night. Championing Claire to leave Martin (was rooting for this), that was love. It was obvious Martin loved Claire, he says as much in the scene, but they were not right for each other. Just because you love someone doesn't mean you're meant to be (something we get shown more than once in the finale). A defining moment in their onscreen relationship is when Claire says to Fleabag that the only person she'd run through an airport for is her. A few episodes before this scene we'd learned that what always looked like disdain on Claire's part was jealously and resentment stemming from her own feelings of inadequacy. By the finale I feel like Claire had gotten over some of those issues. When she leaves the wedding for the airport (guess there was someone else she would run through an airport for), I was cheering for her. Phoebe and Sian have so many dynamic scenes together that wouldn't work if the two didn't have amazing chemistry. I love them as sisters, and I love the characters' relationship.

Speaking of chemistry:

Of course, Fleabag would fall in love with the emotionally unavailable. Phoebe and Andrew's chemistry is so good. They played easily off each other's quirks and The Priest sees Fleabag in a way the other characters aren't able to (he notices her zoning out/fourth wall breaks). I could've watched this relationship play out for years. But alas, some things aren't meant to be.

It was obvious the two would end up together, just as obvious as it was that they were never going to last, as friends or a couple. When Fleabag breaks the fourth wall early on she says "we'll last a week". They're both a little dysfunctional, and we never fully get to hear why The Priest is the way he is (he always gets cut off when he tries to explain his past, only getting as far as "When I was a child..." and that he wasn't close to his mother). Through their relationship though, we see that even though it's been some time Fleabag is in fact still coping with the death of her mom and Boo. I feel like part of what she was looking for in their relationship was reassurance, as she turned to the Bible and prayer (something she would never have done previously, as an atheist), where she would normally have only turned to sex and alcohol or other ways to harm herself. When she and The Priest finally do have sex, we the invisible friend have our view almost immediately cut off. Has Fleabag ever done this? She usually narrated her sexual exploits. I feel that adds to the fact that this intimacy with the Priest was love, not a means of escape like the other times.

What I said earlier about the Godmother I say with a tiny grain of salt because I do realize that it's all subjective. We only see Fleabag's point of view. However, she's still the worst. She collects "friendships" like commodities and talks about them in terms of listen descriptors, most clearly shown when she introduced people in the finale. There is no real redeeming of the Godmother for Fleabag after she went from being the Mother's "best friend" to the Father's special someone. And it's hard to tell if the Father really loves her or if he's afraid of her/afraid of being on his own. Fleabag has a lovely heart to heart with her Dad (which acted also as a callback to a scene a few episodes earlier at the mother's funeral) in the finale where in a foreboding moment he says to her "I think you know how to love better than any of us. That's why you find it all so painful." Fleabag replies to us voyeurs tersely, "I don't find it painful". She definitely did. Look at the way she dealt with Boo's death. Yes, there was guilt, but she loved her. She loved her mother and having to see her Godmother with her Father, and being told snyly says she modeled the bust after her mom, her reaction...that's pain from love. We know Fleabag's love and grief for her mother were just as strong as the love and grief she had for Boo. In a flashback scene to after her mother's death, she tells Boo she doesn't know what to do with all the love she felt for her mom and how painful it is. Boo says to give it to her, she'll take it. Boo was a real one. I don't remember Fleabag breaking the fourth wall in these flashback moments (maybe I need to watch it again), but that got me thinking that we're probably taking the place of Boo. The person she lost who shared her laughter, her love, and her grief. We're her echo.

The final scene is heartbreaking to watch play out. You kind of know it's coming especially during his wedding speech, which he seemingly recited to her. The whole season spanned such a short period, but there is an immediate investment in what could be between these characters, and for the Priest this was the only real way this could end. There was no way he was leaving the priesthood. He warned her and thus we were warned, but we don't listen when it comes to the things we want. I was sad for her and him, but as Brittany Howard sings out to the credits (and The Priest's fox-foe pursues him); with a shake of the head that says "you don't need to follow me" and a wave goodbye we, the invisible friend, are reassured she's going to be alright. This was a wonderfully poignant way to end the series. It basically ended as the pilot ended, Fleabag on her way with the stolen bust of her mother in hand. I don't think it could've ended any better.

*I've had this in my drafts for maybe six months, started a new blog, decided to finally edit and post it. If you're reading this I hope you enjoyed it. -S*

#Fleabag #Fleabag x the Priest #Phoebe Waller-Bridge #Andrew Scott #Olivia Coleman #Amazon Prime #Sian Clifford #love #grief #friendship #TV

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lazywriter7 · 5 years

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shades of happiness

Summary: Part of the journey is the end.

Steve Rogers considers his many possible endings, and chooses one.

Warnings for major character death

It’s always been the shade that caught his eye the quickest.

In a set of pastels, blocky and chalky-soft and colour staining on his fingertips – always the pop of red towards the end that his gaze drifted to, where it lingered. The colour that could change the very way you looked at things – like when sunrise lit the tenements of Brooklyn in rose-gold-cinnabar, gleaming off bicycle pedals that used to look dusty and camouflaging the cracks in sour-cream building walls, clothes left over on the lines at night flapping gently in the wind – like filtering it all through this shade could alter reality itself.

(Reality, that makes one of six–)

Steve had a weakness for it, for red. Any time one of his paintings looked a touch too dull, like the colours had been leached of their potency, like everything was too drab, too still (too dead), his brush strayed towards the red tube of paint. A dab here and a highlight there, and it was like the painting became a new creature – vivid and kinetic, the richness of the hue enhancing the brighter shades of yellow and orange, adding depth into the darkness of browns and blacks. It was always on his palette, he couldn’t imagine picturing a world without…

“Steve.”

He shook with it, the startlement. He blinked his eyes. Peggy smiled at him from across the diner booth, chestnut-hair shining in the light and victory suit as perfectly pressed as when he’d first met her. “You were gone there, for a while.”

“I was.” Steve said, and there was something about that that wasn’t quite right. Spoken too lightly, frivolous and easy. Lacking the import that words like that deserved.

But Peggy seemed to pay that no note and only smiled wider. Steve was braced for the breathstopping, jawbreaking clench of longing the sight brought – the corners of her quirked lips, the dip of her lower lip where the skin always seemed to be chapped and flaking. The carmine slash of her lipstick.

Red.

“Nice place, isn’t it.” Peggy tilted her chin, dark eyes flitting over the light fixtures and checkered décor.

It’s very seventies, Steve wanted to say – the foreignness of the thought prickled at him. It was… it was out of place, in this picture-perfect scene, out of time, because he’d never have known to have the thought if not for pop-culture and watching movies about the seventies in the futu–

So something else escaped his tongue instead. “Sometimes, I’d think about if I was just imagining it too… too sunny. Too bright. What would’ve happened if I’d never gone down in the ice.”

A shining image, through rose-tinted glasses. There was something about that too, which rattled at the shadowy edges of his mind; tinted glasses, tinted glasses and dark eyes–

(Dark eyes, bare for the taking. “Liar.”)

“Was the end of war. Couldn’t have been all sunshine and roses.” And for all of his heartache, he’d gotten to skip that part, hadn’t he? Hadn’t had to live with the aftermath. Bombed out streets, diners that were looking a lot emptier, hollow smiles and haunted eyes, empty chairs at the kitchen table.

Except he did live with it, just not at that particular time. Steve cleared his throat, dry to the bone, something like ash lingering at the back of his tongue. “I had to… had to carry on, for five years after. At times, it was harder than the ice.”

But Peggy only smiled on, uncharacteristic, shine of white teeth like something lacquered over. “Have some water, dear, you sound parched.”

The light seeping through the windows caught in his eyes, near-blinding. Steve raised a hand to shield them – was the sun setting? “Must’ve been hard for you to go through that all alone, after the war. Don’t know how you managed it.”

When he’d blinked the spots out of his eyes, the diner seemed faded – though still bathed in coloured light. Peggy had stopped smiling, though her eyes were still kind. “I wasn’t alone.”

Of course. For all that it had gotten dimmer, the world also seemed clearer at the edges. Like a hazy picture beginning to resolve, showing all its grainy details, cracks in the wall. Steve breathed in the stillness, breathed in the dust. “How’re the husband and kids, Peg?”

Peggy blinked, dark lashes batting through the stillness. She wasn’t wearing a ring. “Steve, I don’t know what you’re–

No, the sun wasn’t setting. But the dimmed light had gone awfully red, casting shadows across Peggy’s cheekbones, creeping across the diner table that was somehow too solid and yet not enough under Steve’s numb fingers. “Peg.”

“They’re.” Peggy hitched a breath. Cast in unearthly scarlet or no, she still looked like Steve’s best dream. “It hasn’t happened yet, but… they’ll be. They’re.. doing really well.”

Behind her glossy locks, Steve could see the diner fracturing – jagged shards of light cleaving through the vinyl booths, checkered floor, white tiling on the counters. His breath was shaking along with it, sucked clean out of his chest like an asthma attack of old, fingers digging into the table– “I never stopped loving you.”

“Me neither, darling.” The words sounded thick in her throat, but Peggy wasn’t crying. She leaned forward, cupped her warm palms over his whitening fingers, “Always.”

Then why. Why did they have to, why couldn’t this be–

(“I needed you. You said ‘together’, and–”)

“You’ve worked so hard. Been… unmeasurably brave, done so much.” Peggy’s eyes glistened with the warmth of a thousand setting suns. “I couldn’t be prouder.”

“I could… I could do it again. Here.” Work at it, at belonging to this time again. It couldn’t hurt as much, couldn’t claw at his throat with the hollowness of it more than the first go around. “With you.”

“Oh, but sweetheart.” Peggy raised soft fingers, leaned enough to ghost them over the back of Steve’s neck, catching at the flyway strands of a haircut she’d never gotten to see. “You’ve already done your time someplace else.”

The light blazed, and the world winked out.

The air pumped through his chest, hard and heavy, throat dry with gasping. His hands were braced on his thighs, view obscured to the gap between them – sweat-slick fringe whipping in his eyes when he bent over and tried to regain his breath.

“Sloppy, sloppy.” A voice teased – Steve jerked his head upright and saw red.

Not the long, straightened sheet of locks he’d gotten used to during D.C.; not even the braid she’d started putting her hair in in the past five years when her roots started growing out. No, Natasha’s hair was scarlet, violently red – and done in the short bob he’d grown to know when they’d first met, and when they trained the Avengers at the compound together.

Which was where they were now, maybe – there were mats under their feet and the training equipment around them looked halfway familiar; somewhere in between what had been in the SHIELD barracks and the Avengers facility gym. On the wall behind, off to the corner of his vision: the edge of a logo set into the plaster gleamed metallic under the afternoon light.

(“That’s what we do, right? The A-vengers? We lost, we–”

“You giving up on the fight, Rogers?” Natasha stretched her hands above her head, jet black leather-and-Kevlar creaking with the motion; rolled the joints in her neck, hair clinging to sweaty skin. “Misery of existence getting you down?”

It was a sharp, sharp jab – Steve heaved a breath and laughed with it, laughed till his eyes were faintly blurring and his chest hurt. Straightened up, meeting twinkling green eyes that he’d thought once upon a time, were cold and unreadable. “You’re not getting off that easy, Romanov.”

“You sure?” Natasha mocked, and the affection of it was raw salt and soothing balm all at once. “You’ve been looking pretty bummed lately. Maybe you should go back to bed, rest those old, creaky joints.”

Steve’s feet were moving – he’d fallen into the dance, the pattern, unaware of even making the first step, the two of them circling each other around the ring. How many times had they done this? He should’ve… he should’ve kept count.

“It’s always the same with you millennials. Life is hard, it always is.” Steve’s gloves creaked as he flexed his fingers, boots gleaming cherry red just at the edge of his sight. The old uniform – now that was a different touch. “Don’t know about you, but I’ve got plenty in my life to get outta bed for.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard this one before.” Natasha didn’t roll her eyes, the gesture far too pedestrian for her – and Steve knew that, now and during the course of… ten? Ten years. “The future isn’t really that bad, the internet is such a useful resource, do you know how dangerous polio used to be–”

Oh, but it was far more nuanced than that. In moments, that yawned long and crushingly heavy, the future seemed nothing more than a wasteland. And yet, here was a friend grinning at him from across the ring, and his breath shivered in his chest with the realisation, a truth sitting in his chest too simple to ignore – “I’ve got more than that.”

(“You trust me, right?”)

Natasha stilled. Behind the shield of banter, the fond, biting grin – Steve could see now that her eyes were too bright. Gleaming with a layer of something liquid and unspilled, eyes reddening – streaks crawling in from the corners, overwhelming the whites. “Yeah?”

“Chatting with Mr. Patel at the bodega three miles away. Helping Wanda control her powers.” It was like feeling the dark give way, lightness stealing in – till his vision was wrecked with it, till keeping his eyes closed was no longer an option. “Morning runs with Sam. Sparring with you.”

Natasha’s smile settled into the crinkles of her eyes, a colourless drop leaking out the side and vanishing into the curve of her cheek. Her voice was ever-so-slightly hoarse, and in that moment more tempting than any Black Widow act she’d ever put on. “You can keep this, if you want. Keep all of this.”

The Avengers logo blazed on the wall behind her head, the corner of the A obscured by her curls. It felt, for a second, that his knees might give way after all.

Steve stayed standing. “You can’t.”

There was something trickling down from Natasha’s temple – a thin line of scarlet mingling with the trail of tears. He didn’t know how close to the truth it was. He’d never gotten to see the bod– he’d never gotten to see her go. His voice cracked with the thought, a cleaving strike right down the middle, “I can’t do this without you.”

“Steve.” There was a gentleness about her, a sense of care he’d never deserved. “I did what I had to so you could.”

“Is that…” No matter how many times he cleared his throat, the rawness wouldn’t subside. An open wound, every word flecked with the pain of it, “Is that why you…”

“You already know why.” Did he? The nose of the Valkyrie, heading straight for the Arctic shelf. Natasha’s mouth curled slightly, an affectionate smirk as if she could read his mind. “Serves you right for setting such a good example, hmm?”

“Besides, I had a job.” She said the words like she said so much else, point blank and matter-of-fact – because that was who she was. Not the masks, or the deception, or even the fights. She was duty, and a commitment to it unflinchingly made. “And a debt to repay.”

A debt to repay. The words struck something, grasped for something – past the skin of his chest and aching muscle, through the defences of his ribs and right down to his unenhanced, beating heart.

(Not red this time, no. Hearts were blue, blue and white like the hottest part of a flame; heat and weight slammed down into his palm, metal burning a circle into the skin.

“Liar.”

Burning regret, and a debt that couldn’t be cast away.)

Something slipped into his hand, warm fingers working their way into his own gaps. Steve squeezed against the pressure, breath escaping just a fraction more lightly. “Did it hurt when you went down?”

“No.” Natasha said simply, and the press of her hand against his was not a lie. Reddened as they were, her eyes still looked peaceful. “It was nice. Like a warmth in my chest, of… getting to throw aside all that my life had been used for, and choosing what it was going to mean.”

It means everything. A hero, when it counted the most for everyone. A friend, when it counted the most for me.

“It didn’t feel like that for me, the ice.” The world was hazing around them again, soft and crimson. His fingers curled in harder, held on tighter. “I knew what I was doing was right, but… it didn’t feel like that.”

“Well then.” Natasha tilted her head one last time, light gleaming off the devastating line of her jaw, eyes teasing like he’d remember her best. “What’re you waiting for?”

A breath, brushing past the stillness. Like conviction finally emerging again, settling into its long-worn shoes.

The world blazed bright. Steve let go.

When Steve came back to himself, the universe was in stasis.

It felt like he could see all of it, spanning wide, even though his eyes were only confined to this place, this instant. This battlefield, sprawling on the grounds of a compound he’d once called home.

It was all silent, all still. Ash caught in mid-air, immobile. Weapons thrown and not yet landed. Snarls on unmoving faces, bodies contorted into the fight, friends and enemies all stretching around about him. Frozen in time, and Steve a man out of it.

Something glimmered at the corner of his vision – an exhale fleeted from his lips, a solitary breath among thousands that had been paused midway. The Time Stone shone dully among the gaps of his fingers. But it was only a spark of green amidst a sea of red; the Reality Gem blazing next to it, eye-searing.

Steve could not move his fingers. They twitched a little, but stayed firmly wrapped around, entwined through the scratched-up, faded metal fingers of an Iron Man gauntlet.

Steve lifted his chin, and stared at Tony’s face, frozen inches away from his.

(It had been a split-second decision. Lying on his back, holding a broken shield, tasting the blood through his teeth; catching a glimpse of Tony’s face through the debris, as he looked at someone out of view – at Strange, maybe.

Catching a glimpse of that resolution stealing over his face, grim and ruinously beautiful. Watching the tussle between him and the Mad Titan, watching as Tony Stark outsmarted and outgritted a foe yet again.

“I…am…”

Steve’s fingers twitched. A magnetic pull, a phantom sensation of lifting something that had never felt this light before.

Mjolnir plowed through the air, smashing into gold and titanium-alloy. Tony’s face contorted in agony, breath stuttering – but it served the purpose, the weight of the hammer pulling him forward several, crucial inches. Steve could feel the dirt under his fingernails, the watery shake of his arms as he pulled himself up one last time – dragged his knees over the ground to close the gap. Reached out, and this time he wasn’t too far away. This time, he caught the hand and held it tight.

Please, he thought, fingers clammy against warm metal, Tony’s eyes wide and so close and ash dusty over those lashes, please, as his skin brushed against the warmth of the gems, scorching points of contact.

Please, as the world froze and blazed red, and reality splintered with possibilities in his mind.)

That had been a second ago.

“Thank you.” He whispered, sound barely escaping the ash, the hoarseness, the throttling gratitude. The Reality Gem shone on like a constant, Time a quiet counterpoint to the side.

He had the time now, so he took it. Several selfish seconds, of staring at the brown eyes so inescapably close to his, the ones that had spat contempt at him and offered a home to him and widened in betrayal at his actions. Steve memorised it all, like a painting he’d never be able to put to page – the blood-crusted mess of Tony’s hair, the silver in his eyebrows, the gaunt hollows of his cheeks, the resolute tilt of his chin. The brightness of him, the tenacity, the inability to walk away – like red still lingering in the sky long after the sun had gone down.

Steve’s breath felt thick in his throat, blood and air all congealed to one. With the hand not trapped in the gauntlet, burning over the Stones – he brushed his knuckles over the warm, hard gristle of Tony’s jaw. A stolen touch, the last thing Steve would ever take from him again.

(“I will miss you Tony.”)

“Please.” Reality flickered around them. The Gem glowed, nanites stirring under Steve’s palm, like the faintest tickle, a warm breath huffed over skin. They peeled out in layers, withdrawing from Tony’s ashy skin and flowing over Steve’s hand – welcoming streams that trailed static electricity till they encased him from wrist to fingertip.

The Stones followed, five throbbing points settling below his knuckles. They still felt lighter than the phantom weight of an arc reactor, chest-warm and leaden in his palm.

Steve’s was a life mired with regrets. But in this, insular instant – the only thing he regretted was having to let go of Tony’s bare hand.

One snap, and the world came back to life.

It was like feeling his atoms implode, the burn beginning from the tips of his fingers and scoring past muscle, sinew, nerve – the blood in his veins on fire, working up his arm and charring everything in its path. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, ground rushing up to hit his spine–

“What. What the fuck, no, no, fuck, no, Steve–”

Something gurgled at the back of his throat. Steve stared up at the sky, unseeing – until his vision was filled with something too familiar, hair and face and eyes looking down, so deeply embedded into his psyche that he couldn’t not recognise–

“T..Tony.” There was warmth at the back of his neck, warmth separate from the burn carving through the right side of his chest. Like someone was clasping his neck, bracing it – like Steve’s stolen touch did not matter, because Tony would always give everything freely away.

“I had it, I had him, why would, Steve, Steve–”

Parts of Steve could still feel the serum kicking away, fighting desperately in its last stretches – I can do this all… I can do this –

“Tony, I…I am so sorry.”

Tony’s face stared down, lips clamped down tight like his teeth were biting through the skin on the inside. There were streaks of shining moisture on his cheeks, clear tracks running down the grime. His voice rang like iron. “No. No. Not good enough, Rogers. I don’t accept this, I can’t–”

“What’s her name.” Steve whispered it on a rasping breath, and Tony’s voice broke off. “Your… daughter. Tell me her name.”

“Morgan.” More liquid, welling up at the edges of those eyes, where the laugh lines usually sat – Steve ached to reach up and brush them away.

“Thought.” The next words were unbearably hard to get out, the burn flickering at the hollow of his throat. Steve struggled through it, single-minded, like every asthma attack, every bully’s fist, every bullet and hit that had ever threatened to keep him down and never succeeded. “Thought tha… that was a… fella’s name.”

“We’re rich and eccentric, it works out.” The words flitted out heedlessly, like Tony’s lips were moving and he didn’t particularly care what came out.

We. Once upon a time, that might’ve rung hollow in Steve’s chest, a pang of longing. Now it nestled there, warm and soothing and protected from the burn.

“Steve.” Something hit Steve’s cracked lips, tingling there – if he flicked his tongue out, he might taste water and salt. “You can’t give up like this.”

But I’m not. This wasn’t like losing faith, like walking away in the middle of the journey. This was finally staggering to the summit, and seeing your destination over the horizon. This was adding that final fleck of paint, that dab of red, to make the picture all worth it.

The hold shifted from Steve’s neck to the back of shoulders that were almost insensate, another arm cupping around his waist – till Tony had hauled him right up, and pressed him close, dark hair brushing over the tip of Steve’s nose. His voice in Steve’s ear was barely above a whisper, barely a question. Maybe it wasn’t even meant for him. “Why.”

The reactor dug into Steve’s sternum, a circle of glowing warmth. It felt nice.

The world was falling away, breaths slowing and heart drifting to a stop, and it felt nothing like the ice.

“I was looking for a happy ending.”

#avengers endgame spoilers #endgame fic #stony #avengers endgame #steve rogers #tony stark #natasha romanov #not a fix-it but a right-it #canon divergence #pining #stevetony

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bakugaykatsukii · 5 years

Text

I Talk About Bakugou Because I'm Bored

Bakugou. He's best boy. My son.

No, actually, I'mma explain in as few words as possible why I absolutely adore his character.

Oops this got long.

Okay, so it's the first chapter/episode (I'll go off the anime because it's practically identical and more widespread) and it opens with Deku narrating. This is to establish an immediate connection between the audience and the main protagonist; it conveys how important Deku is. Plenty of shows do this so it's not really a big deal, just common practise. HOWEVER, the second character we hear speak is Bakugou, who is insulting Deku.

This is framed in a way that's supposed to make us dislike him, and continues all throughout the first episode. He's presented as a four year old trying to beat up our main character, and then his next scene is being ten years older and Still Trying To Beat Up Our Main Character. This makes him seem rotten to the core, as his character hasn't changed whatsoever in that time, and as an audience we know very little information about him.

On top of that, within this first episode he is deliberately made to have no redeeming qualities, nothing that could make him sympathetic in any way. The Sludge Villain fiasco isn't until ep2, and in this one he literally tells Deku to kill himself, reaching peak middle school bully. He destroys something the Main Protagonist clearly treasures and is privelaged in every conceivable way, even his (later obviously intense) desire to be a hero is simplified to monetary gain, with "I'll be even richer than All Might himself!!!" (or something to that effect). Later on I'd explain such a line to be a result of young Baku trying to quantify his future success, something he never mentions again after the Sludge Villain.

In these first twenty minutes of the anime, he's been absolutely dragged through the mud. Not only is he this arrogant, selfish, mean bully, he's also the sort of bully we can all relate to having, making him even more dislikable! It's so easy for an audience to write him off as irredeemable almost immediately.

But then comes ep2. Seasoned anime watchers likely brush over some small details, but the fact that the Sludge Villain attack happens when Bakugou is 14? Wow. At this point no one likes him, and to many people seeing this happen could come across as a sort of karmic punishment, deserving and therefore less sympathetic. And so Horikoshi succeeds in continuing to make him dislikable but also adding depth to this character who so clearly believed he was invincible.

However, any such depth is pretty much ignored by the audience. I've watched many reactions, and, at this point, due to Bakugou's sub par personality, most people don't care about what happened upon first viewing. To be fair, it's treated as background until Deku steps in and proves himself a hero, at which point he's promised a quirk and That's all anyone can think about.

(also there's some symbolism in this ep because Bakugou and Deku were both attacked by the Sludge Villain and saved by All Might, showing they are actually equals in character and have a lot in common.)

Anyway, so for the first few episodes no one gives two shits about Bakugou because he's meant to be dislikable. He's set up to be as bad as possible without needing to be arrested/never being redeemable. Yet, he's also not clearly set up to be redeemed whatsoever. Let me explain:

Quick break from bnha to head over to atla, Zuko is the perfect redemption arc. And some of that can be attributed to his presentation in the first few episodes: where he's portrayed as antagonistic but still honourable, and has a tragic past. He's the sort of character you know isn't actually bad at heart. But Bakugou hasn't got any tragic back story to speak of, and certainly isn't honourable, so we don't expect a redemption.

That's so interesting to me, because it basically means his character could go in any direction but most shounen fans expect him to be the typical rival. He's mean now and will be mean later, nbd. Will probably betray Deku in order to gain more power. That sort of stuff.

But, as the first season progresses, we're shown that Bakugou (on top of all of his anger issues and cruelty) is also so incredibly determined, to the point where it's harmful. A lot of people, even in season three, expect him to accept the LoV's offer, but as early as ep7 he's shown to be dedicated to being the best on his own. He utterly fails at pretending to be a villain, and doesn't manage to work with his "villain" teammate. When the USJ attack rolls around, he fights alongside Deku.

I feel like I've just word babbled for a while so here's a picture:

Isn't that adorable? Anyway, I continue.

Okay, recap: Bakugou is presented initially as bad and in no way sympathetic, but throughout season one some of his good qualities do get highlighted.

The Sports Festival is probably when I was most on edge about who my favourite character was. Todoroki vs Deku vs Bakugou was a whole internal debate. We all know who eventually won though. Point is, this is the first time Bakugou is supposed to seem likeable.

Like, yes, he helped out at the USJ, but he was still reckless and angry about it. In this arc his flaws stop seeming so antagonistic (even though he's now more at odds with 1-A than he's ever been) and are framed humorously; if you think about it, the only times you're not rooting for Bakugou in this whole arc is when you're laughing at his antics. He stops seeming like a massive unforgivable bully and becomes a secondary threat behind Todoroki, even though he ultimately wins the Festival.

One of the first things he does in the season is tell people messing with their class go away, albeit bluntly, and is then complimented for it by Kirishima, who is the nicest guy in the class! No longer are we supposed to necessarily dislike him, as he's being developed after all of season 1. Him saying "I'm gonna win" as his speach is expected by the audience and laughed at- absolutely nobody watching was scared he'd hurt Deku in some terrible way due to it.

The cavalry battle demonstrates that he can work in a team after some adjustment time, and he gets his own antagonist (Monoma) who we all root against! This makes us closer to his character, as in a way we have a common enemy.

Then obviously the single battles are super interesting, his one against Uraraka especially turning people to his side. Since Aizawa, who as an audience we trust after his actions at the USJ, backs up Bakugou's actions, we accept them as the right thing to have done. Especially since Bakugou later calls Uraraka "not fragile", demonstrating that he can respect people and actually isn't as discriminatory as his earlier actions against Deku might lead one to believe. Everything about this fight is pure gold.

The rest of his fights are also very interesting, so let me go off on a little tangent. He's the only person to 1) be uninjured by the end of the festival (he did win tho so...) and 2) he's the only person to win all of his fights by forcing his opponent into submission. He knocks out Uraraka and Kirishima, goes to knock out Tokoyami but has him give up instead and then knocks out Todoroki! His fights are so much more violent than the others, who are primarily trying to win by pushing their opponent out of the ring or by immobilising them, which could make him come across as more aggressive (which he is). But it actually works for his character considering the way he demonstrates respect is by giving his all, therefore in order to show he cares about these fights he has to go for absolutely decimating the person against him.

Also, interesting side note to all that, out of our main three festival contenders, Bakugou is the only one who actually needs to use the festival for its intended purpose: impressing scouts. Todoroki, as the son of Endeavour, is already known throughout the hero community as a promising young talent, and could even get the No2 hero to coach him if he so wished. Deku even says himself that he doesn't necessarily need to get scouted when All Might is already teaching him. Out of the three Bakugou has the most incentive to actually show off here, no guilt/baggage required.

Anyway blah Stain arc blah. Bakugou picks Jeanist to intern with, which many might think makes him shallow. Their quirks are in no way similar and their images are almost diametrically opposing, and Bakugou only chose him because he's such a highly ranked hero. However, I believe the creators crafted this pairing in order to convey how good of a future hero Bakugou promises to be. BJ, in these episodes, is all talk. He's such a superficial hero that, in order to rectify Bakugou's foul personality, he gives him a haircut. He demonstrates the arrogant nature that Stain hates so much. Meanwhile, Bakugou ignores him and is still arrogant in his own way, obviously, but not for anything other than his own pride. He, when you break it down, spends all of his time working towards a genuinely good goal, just to prove to himself that he's worthy- no desire for fans or fame in there, he wants success but isn't actually looking for any of the perks that come with it. This, imo, makes him better than BJ. Also, Bakugou never actually says he is working with BJ due to his rank and could be doing it because their quirks botha require so much time, practice and effort.

Okay, so, now for the final exams. This is where I decided he was my favourite. He works with Deku etc and proves to the audience that he can work with him and won't necessarily become a villain, plus All Might lets loose a little and proves he too can be violent and mean.

What I really love is about ep24 s2 is actually the bit that makes a lot of people chuckle: where Bakugou bites AM's hand. This kid has been giving his absolute all, putting every ounce of strength into beating his idol, because, lbh, his self worth depends on his success here, until he literally cannot raise his arms to punch anymore. And yet, he still refuses to go down, despite every odd against him. Something about that tenacity is just so incredible to me.

It's almost 1am, let's have another break, shall we?

Idk I thought it was funny when it came onto my dash.

Btw, it's now I wish I knew how to hide most of a post lololol.

Season three is just Baku's season, ngl. Like,,, so many of his Stans got their start here, and it's not hard to tell why. A big reason why Bakugou felt irredeemable was because he had no reason to be so mean, but the narrative makes up for that by then putting him through so many bad experiences.

There's been a million metas on why he's so perfect in this season, and this is already abhorrently long, but ah well.

Okay so he's captured by the League through no fault of his own. As the audience when we find out Bakugou is missing we immediately think he's done the dumb thing and gone off on his own, but it's quickly revealed that he's already been kidnapped. Tokoyami is also taken, cementing that the LoV are looking for kids with some villainous feature, but also showing that their perception of what makes a child villainous is skewed, since we know Tokoyami is good.

At the hideout Baku is entirely restrained and silent, so clearly against his will. If we remember every other time he's been restrained (so goddamn many) we'll think back to the Sludge Villain, finding out Deku had a quirk, after his *win* against Todoroki and his internship with BJ. In this way, it's obvious to tell that this is all a Bad experience for him, as those were all very negative times in his life. There's no way he'll join them.

None of the pros even consider it a possibility. Aizawa defends him against the press (and, once again, we like Aizawa! So we trust him) and none of his classmates think he could be evil, they're all primarily concerned for his safety. Even BJ, who insinuated that Baku could easily become a villain, doesn't appear to believe he'll turn down that path.

Also Baku is pretty cool when he fights of the villain like I'm ngl.

And then, when he sees All Might? And his face screws up? With his lip trembling? It's undercut with a joke but he's so obviously just a scared/relieved kid in that moment and it's gut wrenching to remember that.

It's really getting late and I'm at 11% here so speed round through the provisional licence exam.

He can tell Shindou is two faced

Even though he's blunt he's still got the instincts and smarts of a hero

The class looks up to him

Aizawa has a lot of favouritism for this child, y'all, how did I not notice this?

His failure here is intrinsic to his character growth as it means he hits absolute rock bottom and we can move onto:

Deku Vs Kacchan 2

Where to even start. The guilt and pain he experiences has made me tear up several times just from thinking about them, and that GODDAMN VOICE CRACK AS HE YELLS nope it hurts too bad.

It's sort of the culmination of every emotional issue Bakugou has exhibited throughout the series. He can't find self worth without constant praise and pressures himself to be unimaginably perfect, to a self destructive point. He has no support system in place to help him with these issues. His anger stops being repetitive/funny/annoying and is finally, clearly shown to be more damaging to himself than to anyone else, as he feels the only way he can deal with his stress and hurt is by lashing out at those who try to help him.

In this fight we also learn why Deku, even though he's Baku's victim, still looks up to him so much. And the whole dynamic is so perfect I might cry rn.

I am annoyed, though, that further than that Baku's mental health has been pretty much entirely ignored for 200 manga chapters. Probably my only complaint about him.

At an entirely selfish level, I can relate to Bakugou. Obviously I'm not a teenage boy with explosion powers who bullies people in order to feel any self worth, but the high standards for himself? The pain at any failures? Being told through childhood how great you are only for it to be torn away in your teens? That's all so painfully relatable to me, and so I feel an even deeper connection with his character.

One last picture to finish off:

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