#like bcs you know they only believe it’s the civilians on one side who should be massacred

[suswous]

It’s sorta funny (not funny) sometimes you’ll see an absolutely atrocious take on Israel-Palestine, and not even know which side they’re supporting.

[sednonamoris]

call off the dogs (and come home to me)

Pairing: John Price x gn!reader

Summary: You've quietly yearned after Captain John Price for a long time now, and known him even longer. With each stolen glance and interrupted moment the tension between you grows, but everything comes to a head when a mission gone wrong forces you to confront feelings that have gone unspoken for the better part of a decade.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, strong language, alcohol mention, drunk hookup, a little bit of torture + murder, fingering, porn with plot (smut should read gender neutral but let me know if any changes will make it more inclusive!!), mild angst, mutual pining with a happy ending

Word count: 3,940

A/N: My first foray into smut inspired by the incredibly talented @yeyinde!! Expect more Hound/Price content in the future bc I’m obsessed lol

--

 “Hound,” a familiar voice startles you from the mountain of paperwork on your desk, “what are you still doing here?”

 You raise a challenging brow at your captain. “Couldn’t I ask you the same thing?”

 This exchange has become familiar in the months you’ve spent grounded. Anyone else would take a bullet to the knee as a chance to slow down - switch careers entirely if they were smart - but you’re stubborn. A dog with a bone. Two surgeries and months of rehab that still aren’t finished, frankly you’re lucky to be walking. Luckier still that they let you stay on with the 141; There was a minute there that Laswell threatened you with an honourable discharge. A timely intervention with the physical therapist got you out of it, the only stipulation being that you remain firmly planted behind a desk until the doctors clear you. Having spent the better part of a lifetime hands-on in the field, it’s been hard not to overextend to prove your worth off of it.

 So after-hours paperwork it is. At least the company is good.

 “Touché,” Price huffs a laugh through his whiskers. “Fancy a cuppa? Sounds like we’ll both be here a while yet.”

 “Have I told you lately you’re my favourite? Two sugars and--”

 “--a splash of cream,” he finishes for you. The twinkle in his eye warms you right through, and you smile after him a little bit like an idiot.

 It’s been like this ever since the domestic terrorism scare your team was called in on in Belfast what feels like a lifetime ago. He was only a lieutenant then, and you a sergeant. You were assigned to civilian extraction, but took off when you saw one of the primary suspects make a dash for it through side streets. Price saw you go for him and followed, the two of you giving chase on foot for three blocks before you managed to dive-tackle him in a back alley. It was a major success to take him alive, but your captain at the time wanted blood for the abandoned civilians. Price stood up for you in front of the entire regiment.

Took after ‘im like a bloody hellhound! he’d said. That deserves a medal, not disciplinary action.  

 Just over ten years later you’re still called Hound, and he’s still the subject of your silly, unattainable daydreams. Captain John Price is a name that means something, but to you he will always be the sergeant with fire in his eyes who stood up for you when no one else would. When he asked if you were interested in joining the 141 at its inception you didn’t even hesitate. You’d follow him anywhere.

 “One tea, two sugars, splash of cream,” Price announces when he returns from the kitchenette with two steaming mugs to distract you from your thoughts. Yours is placed ceremoniously on an ARW coaster you ‘borrowed’ from your last commanding officer. “Now I believe you owe me something…?”

 You grin and pull out your secret stash. The false bottom of the drawer is probably meant for sensitive intel, but you’ve found it’s perfect for biscuits. Three are placed in his outstretched hand, and three next to your mug.

 “You’re lucky I’ve got a man on the inside who sends me these,” you scold as he scoffs one down almost immediately.

 “Yeah, tell your granddad I said ‘thanks’.”

 “I can’t. He’d disown me if he knew I was feeding a Brit.”

 That earns you a laugh - a true belly laugh - and you can’t help but feel entirely smug about it.

 “Fuckin’ Paddies.”

 “Ah, go fuck yourself.”

 A companionable silence blankets the room after that, broken only by the sound of shuffled papers and laptop keys. Soft lamplight illuminates your reports so unlike the harsh fluorescents everywhere else on base. You’ve done your best to make the regulation desk homey; bright sticky notes and colored pens and a picture of you and the lads after a successful mission. Occasional hums and huffs and heavy sighs from your captain’s desk across the room breathe life into the space as well. You like to think your incoherent, foul-mouthed muttering does the same for him.

 The clock reads 0100 hours when you look up again. The caffeine from the tea wore off over an hour ago and you can feel yourself starting to fade. A quick peek over at Price reveals much the same.

 You open your mouth to ask if he’s ready to tuck in when he looks up and steals the breath from your lungs. His short hair is mussed where he’s been running his hands through it, that hint of premature grey turned silver at his temples in the low light. Tired eyes crinkle fondly behind the lenses of reading glasses you haven’t stopped teasing him over but can’t get enough of. It’s achingly domestic. A glimpse into a future you’ll never have - not with anyone, and certainly not with him.

 “What are you thinking about over there?” he asks softly.

 “Nothing,” you flash a tired and unconvincing smile. “I’m knackered. Shall I close up shop or will you, Cap?”

 “I’ve got it, you get some shut-eye.”

 Your eyes linger just a bit too long as you bid him goodnight, knowing very well you won’t sleep a wink.

--

 This pub is definitely one of the shittier ones, but its location is convenient enough to pretend that the wallpaper isn’t peeling and the live band of part-time musicians and full-time retirees is any good. The handful of covers they play are indistinguishable from originals sprinkled in, all with that same, washed-out sound of empty bottles and stale dreams.

 The group of hooligans crowded up at the bar sit in stark contrast of the otherwise dour patrons. Even Ghost, who’s taken the corner seat and keeps a lazy watch over the room, is loose enough to be making those terrible jokes of his. Soap and Gaz lean over one another with goofy grins and half-empty glasses before them. Price, true to form, has taken the end seat to nurse a ‘proper pint’ alongside a lit cigar the bartender can’t dispute after lighting up what looks like at least his tenth cigarette of the night behind the bar.  

 “If it isn’t the Bionic Hound!” Gaz calls when he spots you across the poorly-lit room, waving you over with a grin.

 You shake your head, wondering why you agreed to come out tonight. But the second Gaz had started with the puppy-dog eyes there was no denying him. Drinks before leave are a 141 tradition, he’d insisted.

 So here you are.

 “You���re lucky it’s a metal knee and not laser eyes or you’d be in yesterday’s papers,” you wag a finger at him as you take your seat amongst them all.

 Ghost snorts a laugh at the empty threat.

 “Oh, come off it, Hound,” Soap says. “You love us too much.”

 Price chuckles. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

 You glare and wrinkle your nose at the comment, but he just smiles back at you with that damned twinkle in his eye. Prick. Then he wordlessly slides over your usual and you have to be grateful on top of it all. Double prick. One swift gulp and half of it is gone; you’re too sober for this.

 The lads cackle over another awful joke - Soap’s, this time. Price holds his temples.

 The drinks go down easy after that.

 “Any exciting plans for your leave, Cap?” you ask. It’s almost closing time now. This place is never full, anyway, but there’s enough alcohol in your system that you almost buy into the pretense of hearing him better as you edge further and further into his space.

 You’re not sure what you want him to say, exactly. Maybe if he reveals that there’s a cute little family or some stunning girlfriend waiting back home you’ll finally be able to move past the strangled feeling in your throat every time you look at him.  

 “Hardly,” he says around the cigar. The soft glow of it lights his face, makes him look like some sharp-eyed noir detective shrouded in smoke and mystery. “Might get a bit of fishing in, head into Liverpool and catch a game or two. What about you?”

 You wave a dismissive hand. “I make a terrible civilian. After I visit my grandfather and annoy him half to death I’m not sure what I’ll do. Maybe finally get some use out of those Egyptian cotton sheets I spent a bleedin’ fortune on.”

 “Are they nice?” he laughs, leans closer.

 You hum an affirmative, dizzy at the little space between you. He smells like tobacco and wood, whiskey and gunpowder.

“Too nice.” You should stop talking now. “End up on the floor half the time, anyway.”

He doesn’t need to know that.  

 “Sleeping alone, then?”

 His breath fans your face. Yours gets quicker, and you swear you’re more drunk off this shared air than any liquor you’ve had tonight.  

 “Sometimes.” You wet your lips. “Usually.”

 Your lashes leave tender butterfly kisses on your cheekbones as you meet his blue-eyed stare that’s gone impossibly dark, dipping down to see where your lips have parted - breathless, waiting. Wanting. His hand reaches out--

 “Last call!” the bartender’s shout snaps everything back to reality.

 You jump away from one another as though you’ve been burned. It feels a lot like you have.

 Price clears his throat, mutters something about getting back. His voice is rougher than usual. Raw. You look everywhere but him as he proceeds to round up the rest of the lads before you all stumble back to base.

 Your head pounds the whole way back to Ireland the next morning, marching drums in your mind and sandpaper beneath your eyelids. The flight has never felt lonelier.

--

 The man you bring home has blue eyes and brown hair. He’s not tall enough, certainly not broad enough, but he happened to be in the right place at the right time as you drank your sorrows away in some tiny pub up the road from your flat, and you happen to be desperate enough not to care.

 At least that’s what you tell yourself as you back him against your bed.

 When you kiss him it’s relentless and controlling. Mean. You suck a dark bruise on his neck and climb in his lap before he can think to return the favor.

 “Fuck, sweetness,” he groans at the sweet feeling of friction between your bodies. The accent is wrong. So is the endearment.

 You clamp a hand over his mouth. “Shut up and fuck me.”

 It’s a quick and sloppy affair, chasing a half-drunk high like a pair of horny teenagers. When all is said and done, you stare up at the ceiling on too-soft sheets and tell him he can go. He leans over to catch your eye briefly, maybe checking to see if you’re serious. You are. There’s hurt written across his expression - a bit of shock, too - but all you can think about is how his eyes are the wrong shade of blue.

--

 The second the doctors clear you for active duty you all but sprint to Price’s desk, demanding he get you back in the field as soon as possible. He smiles up at you in that sharp way that always makes your heart stutter and promises he’s got something small in the works - perfect to shake the rust off.

 Of course he’d think of an unsanctioned, off-the-books capture of a Russian mobster as small. You’re the only two who make the trip; your Russian is miles better than anyone else’s, and more bodies will only attract attention.

 It’s easy to forget how beautiful Moscow is. You don’t come here often, but the sprawling cityscape and romantic spires speak to your soul, set something singing inside you. You try to hold on to that feeling as you and Price make your way into the chipped paint and piss-stained sector of the city. These winding side streets and twisted back alleys are far more fitting for your line of work.

 Your mark, one Mikhail Yanovich, is a low-level enforcer for a high-interest gang that has connections to Makarov. Allegedly. That’s why you’re planning this friendly little chat. Not so much catch-and-release as catch-and-stage-a-believable-accident; if he really is involved, you can’t afford for Makarov to know you’re onto him.

 It feels strange to walk around in civvies with only a thin kevlar vest underneath to protect you. Thank goodness for the cold that makes layering less conspicuous. You look every inch the lost, frozen tourist. Price does too. You don’t think the miserable face he’s pulling beneath the beanie is acting, cheeks and nose flushed raw as they are.

 “Bloody cold out,” he mutters.

 “The fuck did you expect, tropical holidays?”

 He glowers, and you shake your head to hide a smile.

 Thankfully, kidnapping Yanovich is quick work; two bickering tourists hardly seem like the type who will stick you with a needle on your way to work and drag your unconscious body to a stashed van, driving through bad, then worse neighborhoods to reach a secure location to interrogate you.

 He wakes tied to a chair in the basement of an abandoned parking garage you and Price have taken up a temporary residence in. The captain circles him like a vulture, taking in all the details a broad frame and blockish features have to offer. You sit perched on the edge of a shitty folding table set just in the shadows. Patient. Waiting. There’s a case of freshly sharpened knives beside you - the Hound’s fangs, as Ghost likes to call them. So often the glinting threat of harsh light on metal is all it takes to break a man.

 “What can you tell us about Makarov?” Price opens.

 “Go fuck yourself.”

 The blow lands harsh on Yanovich’s cheekbone. Instantly a bruise begins to form, splotchy and plum on pale skin.

 “I asked you a bloody question. I promise you’d rather answer me than Hound over there,” Price looms over him, growls in his ear. “Makarov. Tell me everything you know.”

 There’s a stubborn set to his jaw when he says, “I know nothing.”

 If he really knew nothing he either would have laughed in your face or led with open ignorance. The way he clings to resistance can only mean there’s something to resist telling. As to how much he knows? There’s another echoing crack as Price backhands him.

 You’ll soon find out.

 “Hound,” your name on your captain’s tongue is as much a command as an invitation.

 You lean forward, step into the light. Twirl one of your knives expertly between scarred fingers. Watch it flash in the whites of his eyes.

 “I’ll ask you again: Where is Makarov?” Price demands.

 “I. Don’t. Know.”

 You step between Yanovich’s legs, lean over him and gently trace your blade over his groin with a smile sharper than the knife. He lets out a harsh breath.

 “I said I don’t know. Boss tells me nothing - I’m just a guard.”

 The knife presses, insistent. Not quite hard enough to draw blood yet. A bead of sweat rolls down Yanovich’s forehead. He’s pressed himself as far back into the chair as his bonds will allow.

 “Fine! He comes to club once a month. Speaks to the boss.”

 “What about?”

 “I don’t know-- I swear!” his accent is thick with unfamiliar syllables and fear.

 “When’s he due next?”

 “You just missed him. He always comes last day of month.”

 “Location?”

 “Changes every time,” he says, licks his lips. “I told you all I know - call off your fucking dog!”

 You dig your knife in for good measure just to watch the hate and fear in his eyes before backing off at Price’s nod.

 Turning to step away and table your knife, you don’t miss the way Yanovich mutters darkly after you, “My zdes strelaem vie brodyachikh sobak, suki. Esli ya uviju tebya snova, the mertview.”

 Then a gunshot fires.

 You pull your weapon out of its holster and whip around to cover Price, only to find the smoking gun in his hand and Yanovich’s head splattered on the wall behind him. Captain John Price stands over the body, eyes blazing, chest heaving, gun still aimed. Blood and brain matter speckles his face and clothes.  

 “What the fuck was that?” you demand. “He could have told us more! And what about the cover-up? Blowing his brains six ways to fucking Sunday isn’t exactly a bleedin’ accident!”

 You expect some kind of remorse when he turns to face you, but there’s only a grim, deadly acceptance. “He said--"

 “I heard what he said, I can speak bloody Russian!” you stalk towards him and jab a finger into his chest. “We were gonna kill the cunt anyway. You should have waited.”

 Price snarls, lip curling to bare his teeth. “You didn’t see the way he looked at you.”

 Suddenly you’re hyperaware of how close the two of you are standing. “How did he look at me?”

“He wanted to kill you the slowest way he knew how,” he says, like he’s confessing a sin, “and I’d shoot his fucking face a thousand times over to make sure he never looks at you again.”

 And just like that anything you were going to say dies in your throat, comes out a pathetic whimper. He grabs a fistful of your shirt and hauls you the rest of the short distance to him.

 “Tell me you wouldn’t do the same,” he demands. “Tell me to stop.”

 His hand burns on your chest, an iron-hot brand of possession.

 “John,” you breathe, because you don’t know what else to say. The look in his eyes is magnetic, drawing you in further still with pupils blown wide with want. “Don’t stop.”

 He kisses you rough, teeth and tongue and a certain kind of desperation brought on by the still-warm corpse lying just a few feet away. When you break for air he wastes no time kissing down your neck, every inch of exposed skin branded by his lips and the rough scrape of his beard. Yanovich’s blood smears down the column of your throat.

 “Fuck, John,” you say, “just like that.”

 “Sound so fucking perfect when you say my name,” he growls and bites down on your pulse point, leaving you gasping.

 It’s enough to distract you from his true purpose, large hands cupping beneath your ass and scooping you up into his arms. You hold on tight as three purposeful strides take you across the room to the table. One sweep of his arm has everything tumbling off it before he sets you down to stare up at him with wide eyes and a kiss-swollen mouth.

 When he captures your lips again it’s searing, molten heat rushing through your veins. It pools in your stomach, that too-hot wanting, and it suddenly hits you how much you do want this. Him. Each kiss tastes like so many years of silent longing, of standing too close and staring too long and wanting too much. All suddenly real and within reach.

 You let your hands snake up his shirt, explore the broad plane of his chest and the wiry hair that curls over it. Your fingers run over scars like braille that tell stories of violence and valor. Some of these stories you helped write. There, beneath his ribs, where you had to stitch him up in the field to keep his guts from spilling into the streets of Vienna. The lump where his collarbone never healed right after taking the brunt of a nasty blow meant for you. He shivers under your touch. Then his large, calloused hands cover yours and stop them in their tracks.

 “I’m going to fuck you now,” he says, “because I don’t think I can wait any longer than I already have to feel you.” His voice is even lower and rougher than usual, accent thick with arousal. “Do you want that?”

 You nod, afraid to speak and break the spell.

 “Come on, soldier, use your words.”

 “Yes, Captain. Please.”

 His grip on your hips tightens and he lets out a growl. “That’s my perfect soldier.”

 It’s all the warning you get before he tucks his fingers under the waistband of your trousers and underwear and tugs them down to your thighs, leaving you exposed before him.

 “Fuck, just look at you,” he says under his breath, almost like you aren’t meant to hear.

 You squirm under the scrutiny. A hot flush creeps up your neck as he stares, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. He looks at you like you’re some kind of revelation, like he’s been denied salvation all his life only to find it at the apex of your thighs.

 One, two, then three fingers stretch you open for him quick and dirty. It’s too much too fast but you want it so bad, and the pleasure far outweighs any pain. When he finally unzips his trousers to free his already hard, leaking cock you think you drool a little bit. You knew he’d be big, the way he carries himself, but seeing it is something else. Your insides flutter at the thought of the tight fit. He lines up to your entrance with that same military precision you’ve always admired before pushing in slowly, slowly, slower still. When he bottoms out he does it with a deep groan, your fingernails raking down his back as you keen at the sensation. This small mercy, just a few moments to adjust with his forehead pressed to yours, is all you’re granted before he sets a brutal pace. The obscene slap of skin on skin echoes off cracked concrete. With each thrust he hits someplace deep inside you no one else has managed to find.

 Heat coils in your belly, closer and closer to fever pitch with each expert snap of his hips.

 “John,” you pant, “m’gonna… gonna cum. Feels so good.”

 He says your name like a prayer. “Cum for me, then. Want to see you make a mess of yourself on my cock.”

 Like a tidal wave breaking against a dam you cum fast and hard at his words with a broken sob. He fucks you through the high, brushing a tear from the corner of your eye with a rough thumb.

 “There you are, so good for me,” he says. “Gonna cum all over your pretty little self, make you mine.”

 “I’m yours, John,” you gasp, “all yours.”

 His thrusts turn sloppy chasing his own high, and it doesn’t take long before he pulls out and makes good on his words, covering your stomach in spend as he grinds out your name. Bent over your body, he presses a chaste kiss to the juncture of your neck before pulling back to admire his handiwork. In the afterglow you lay spread out on the table with a sheen of sweat, smeared with his cum and another man’s blood. The way his eyes darken rubbing it into your skin, and the way you shiver at the sensation, you think that you both might like it a little too much.

 “Laswell’s gonna kill us for this,” he murmurs.

 You hum your agreement. “So where shall we hide the body?”

 His eyes shine down on you with adoration and crinkle with wicked humor. “I’m sure we’ll think of something, but let’s be quick about it. The sooner we get home the better.”

 “Yes,” you hear yourself agreeing, “home.”  

 For you, it will always be at his side.

[henrysglock]

Hi can you plz help me to understand. My feed is mainly talking about Palestine, showing the atrocities happening, wanting Palestine to be free and I agree the Palestinian civilians should be safe and the bombings and attacks should stop. But I’m failing to see why people aren’t caring about the Israeli civilians as much? They are also being killed, many innocently at a music festival only to never return home again. But it’s like no one cares about them bc they’re they enemy! But they’re not they’re innocent people. Just like the Palestinian people are. And I kinda get the war between both but also what happened was over 70 years ago most of the people living there now weren’t there 70 years ago so why should they still be talked about as though they’re the enemy when living in Israel is all they’ve known? It shouldn’t be just swept under the rug no and I know everyone isn’t just going to stop and make up and hold hands singing songs but It’s 100% the governments problem I just don’t understand why people now are failing to sympathise with the Israeli victims? And why some Jewish people/celebs are being made out to be bad people just bc they speak up on what’s being done to their fellow Jews? Not sure if you’ve seen Brett’s ig but he’s been very vocal and if I’m honest does seem quite extreme but ppl like Noah just seem like he’s upset and worried and doesn’t want harm to come to either side but ofc he’s going to show support to Israel when he’s been there to learn more about his religion? Idk what to believe in terms of news anymore bc some seem very pro-Palestine and others pro-Israel and some switch between both every other day. It’s just all very confusing but it has made me a little sad to see not many people talking about the innocent Israelis who have lost their lives and are still in the middle of all this too… sorry if this is too much I just needed to say it to someone :/

Okay, anon, I think I know where the disconnect lies: scale.

1,400 were killed in the attack on Israel, and that’s a horrible thing. Loss of civilian life is never a good thing.

However. Over 5,000 and counting Palestinians have been killed by the Israelis just since the Hamas attack. That’s not including the 70+ consecutive years of occupation and mistreatment continued mistreatment enacted on them by the Israeli government (It’s not something that “happened 70 years ago”, anon. It has been constant). They have been and are being driven out of their homes; their lives, livelihoods, and land are being stolen out from under them. 70 years’ worth of children have been and are being murdered or left as orphans.

Here are some numbers just since 2000:

And there is no “both sides”, here. There is no “war”, Anon, because Palestine has no army, while Israel is backed by the governments of most western countries, the US army included. They have the backing of the most powerful army in the world…against a people with no army. Palestinians, anon, are defenseless. Israel is bombing their hospitals and schools. It’s an unceasing massacre. Gaza is an open-air prison. The Palestinians cannot escape the violence.

So yes, it’s deeply unfortunate that Israeli civilians were killed, and I sympathize with those who were hurt by that attack, emotionally and/or physically…but they are not victims of genocide, here.

Palestinians are.

That is why we’re more vocal about Palestine, anon. The scales aren’t even close to the same.

This isn’t even going into the fact that Hamas was founded and funded to destabilize Palestine. To quote Avner Cohen, an ex Israeli official: “Hamas, regrettably was Israel’s creation”. Meanwhile, the current PM of Israel, Netanyahu, has said “Anyone who wants to thwart the establishment of a Palestinian state has to support bolstering hamas and transferring money to hamas. This is part of our strategy—to isolate Palestinians in gaza from Palestinians in the west bank.”

Israel’s blood is on its own hands.

[jewishbarbies]

I feel like people see or hear Jews saying that Israel is important and assume that means support for the Israeli government, 100% and 24/7, on all problems and issues and everything they’ve ever done, instead of what it actually stands for. You can love a place, especially one as significant as Israel is for the Jewish people, without loving or supporting the actions of a modern government. They aren’t mutually exclusive.

We’re able to separate civilian love and loyalty to their homelands when it happens to Americans or Europeans. We don’t hold them responsible for shitty things their governments do. We support them in protest. We don’t celebrate terror and war bc we don’t like another country’s government. But when it comes to Israel, what’s happening is okay and if you’re Jewish and are rightfully hurt by it, you’re awful. If you feel connected to Israel, you’re terrible and scum and you should suffer too... all because people don’t like the Israeli government (which is valid!!!). Make it make sense.

literally caught a bit of a cuomo interview where he said “people are concerned for Israelis but personally I’m worried more about palestinians” and like. you should be worried about both. it’s not hard. thousands of Israelis were murdered and thousands injured. it’s okay to worry about them? when i see russians gather in protest on the streets of russia, i worry for them because i know what that means. I know what’s going to happen to them. I worry for soldiers who surrender after only fighting with the threat of death to their loved ones. that doesn’t make me a putin fangirl. all these people care about is how it looks to stupid people.

this whole situation is about lack of care for human life. regardless of what side it’s on, what color it is, how warm and fuzzy it makes us feel, or how much social praise it gets us, human life will always be more important than imaginary sides in a conflict largely inflated by opportunistic terrorists (whether they’re a Hamas operative or a politician), and anyone who can’t understand that has no real morality. there’s going to be ignorant people from both factions, but the majority of jews, Israelis, and palestinians all want the same thing - and it’s NOT more violence.

(a lot of american leftists lean into antisemitic dual loyalty tropes when it comes to jews and Israel specifically, and I believe that heavily influences conflating love for the land with love for the government but specifically with Israel. a lot of them believe jews in Israel still have citizenship from european countries and can therefore just up and leave whenever they want but are CHOOSING to stay and “colonize”. leftist antisemitism is going mask off right now and it’s all shit we’ve been pointing out for many years.)

[captain-astors]

7, 10, 16, 22, 26 for tokyo ghoul asks bc i like your thoughts

And I like yours! Thank you kindly, I enjoy the selection you’ve picked out. Lots of text under the cut.

7. Which character(s) do you dislike?

Torso, Tsuneyoshi, Kanou… I don’t really dislike anyone that isn’t a fairly standard “no thanks” for the fandom except for who I’ll include in the other 7 I recieved. 

10. Which character deserved more? Or was it more unfair? 

I’ve received two of these which is good because I have a few. I’m going to start with SHIKORAE GOOD GOD MY BOY WHY. I am a firm believer that he did nothing wrong. It's not his fault Kijima did this to him. He deserved another chance you hear me. He deserved to be loved. Healthily. No hate to the clowns, they're spectacular but their idea of affection is that it straight up isn’t real at best, and that it’s unattainable and only achievable in the form of violence and consumption at worst. I just want him somewhere he can live in relative peace alright. Also Kanae didn’t need to be treated quite that way, Eto didn’t need to die and be brought back just to die again, Tsukiyama didn’t deserve to never move past his unhealthy obsession and treated like a joke, and Touka didn’t need to be reduced to Cardboard Wife. 

16. Out of the millions of Kaneki personalities, which one is your favorite?

Haise! Sweet boy, single father making his way through the world and honestly not being half bad at it. Situation isn’t perfect but I like how he deals with things, genuinely looking for solutions without being afraid to speak up. I kind of wish he was his own character and the protagonist of the entirety of :re but you know people would’ve been furious. Also I love the texture and look of his hair. 240 is a favorite as well.

22. What's your opinion about the final? 

Of the first? A fun ride! It was a little difficult to follow but otherwise I enjoyed it. Of :Re? Who’s the :re finale? I don't know her.  Kidding mostly. It’s just such a rushed feeling thing, you’d think the clash between the main character and one of the strongest characters on the opposing side, (if not the strongest now that Arima’s dead and we have no way to really judge how strong Furuta is since Kaneki’s abilities get cranked up to a 1000) would have some gravity to it but no, it just flashes and whoops Kaneki lost. For once. Then he gets turned into a giant kakuja beast and kills hundreds of kids as well as countless civilians but of course we’re not going to have him suffer any repercussions, internal or external, or even address that because he wasn’t himself, he just wants to see Touka again. :(  Then he gets pulled out by the power of love, his aging problems are magically cured, he has suffered no physical disfigurement other than little eye marks, and inexplicably gains cross-shaped Kagune to smack Nimura into the afterlife. And after all that he’s a totally stable person who definitely isn’t going to be a bad spouse or parent despite the massive amounts of trauma he has! Because that makes sense! Regardless of how much you like Kaneki it just feels a little idealistic for him and overly uncaring for the other characters. That's why I like "The finale past the death of Nimu/Rize's destruction depending on what you like is Kaneki's fantasy of what could've been" theory.

26. If you could sacrifice any character to bring another back, who would it be?

I love Mirumo so much, but his existence is barely acknowledged past the extermination arc so he can go in exchange for

A. the death of the Tsukiyamas and the devastating effect it SHOULD have had on Shuu being acknowledged in such a way he perhaps even learns to start growing away from that sad blind devotion to Kaneki, B. Kanae. I just want them back. I don’t think it would necessarily improve anything I just miss them. Also if Seidou isn’t going to get any resolution ANYWAYS (I’m so mad about that and I don’t want him to die but I am a creature of efficiency) he could sacrifice himself in the finale in some grand gesture that actually gets him acknowledged, in exchange for Tatara and Houji getting more screentime and further development.

[roobylavender]

Hello! Thank you for your answer (I'm the Bruce loses his wealth anon) and you're so right about the potential for him to be in a teaching/mentorship field for civilian kids! And yeah the thought was prompted by how living in a literal manor and having that much wealth would isolate him from people to a huge degree even his peers and he likely wouldn't stop until an external shock like losing his wealth and gaining community.

I'm kind of obsessed with this au because it is genuinely baffling to me how the common understanding of Bruce is that he's a brooding pessimistic loner when he has literally devoted his life to an unattainable ideal of a crime free Gotham and has so many kids and is on multiple superhero teams. There are so many stories you could still tell with Bruce without him being Batman. And it actually works really well with the current obsession of deconstructing the myth of Batman. (1/2)

(2/2) You could explore the tension with his kids and students in how they feel about Bruce being happier without Batman while they are devoted to the superhero identity. You could give him an altered role in the justice league and explore the consequences of that. Or reveal his identity and see the response of the Gotham people now that they know Bruce as a peer. Like if we must still keep the crime fighting he could be a private detective helping people who don't trust the authorities get justice while actively being a part of the community. We can also explore the impact of both Bruce's philanthropy and Batman's vigilantism and explore the limits of both while looking at the material impact both things have caused on the community. There is endless potential for stories here that can be accomplished while giving Bruce's kids the freedom to become independent heroes and I am truly baffled why people want Bruce to remain trapped in the Batman identity. Sorry I just realised how long this got so sorry for the rambling asks (no one I know is into comics) and thank you for reading! 🌻🌻🌻

i couldn't agree more like you summarized it so succinctly! people need to drive their bruce analysis beyond the idea that bruce is nothing without batman bc it is so not true and he has so much to offer as bruce wayne! esp love your point about how it can potentially create tension with his kids bc that really should be a huge crux of how his relationship with them is explored. the fact that if there was a world where he didn't need to put on the mask he would let it go whereas with them you get the feeling their entire existence is for the sake of the mask and to their own detriment is incredibly impt. and it's really interesting people have projected the latter reading onto bruce increasingly as time goes by to the point that they believe batman supersedes his own existence, bc it's quite ahistorical. i sometimes wonder if people even understand the point of the knightfall arc or bruce's run with tim at all bc it seems all too many come out of it thinking that bruce's return to batman is necessary bc it's all he'll ever be and he's the only one who can be batman. but i think the conglomerate effect of knightfall and whatever subsequent arcs there are through rucka's run (and in spite of the many flaws in some of those stories) is to establish that bruce wayne as himself is an uncompromisable identity that cannot be lost or subsumed by the mask. what bruce does is impt and he does have somewhat of a duty to uphold by putting himself out there in the first place but that doesn't mean his own life is without value or that he can't want for personal things and exact change through his civilian identity. that seemed to be the core message of the rucka arcs esp and while i don't think it was executed flawlessly, whatever impact it had i do think was diluted by the fact that morrison was his successor and essentially walked back all of the effort rucka made to bring bruce back to himself

* also a side note but i imagine the strongest counterargument to whatever i'm saying here is denny o'neil's depiction of the batman identity and while you're not at all arguing with me on that here it's something i want to address about denny's writing style in general. i think my biggest criticism of him is that he's a painfully archetypal writer. he's great at establishing core traits for a character but it's very evident he was at his peak with dc in an era where long term continuity was not necessarily impt and comic runs were largely ruled by one-shot storylines where maintaining the integrity of the character was more important than necessarily driving them to change or evolve in any way (and that's an issue that shows up in his writing of talia as well imo and even to the point i believe it explains very well why he wanted to do death and the maidens, regardless of how differently it turned out from the original concept). it's easy for a lot of people to say the batman identity will forever and always be the absolutely priority to bruce in light of what denny has written without accounting for the fact that denny wasn't necessarily interested in seeing bruce actually grow as a character. in some ways his stubborn attachment to standard form is a blessing but in other ways i also think it's a hindrance and i wish people would acknowledge that

[plumsaffron]

Roasting the miracusalters pt. 5!

Fan Works outdated by canon? Y’all are a shitty example of that! At least other fanworks outdated by canon are civil and give their followers a head up! “Um my stuff doesn’t follow the current canon bc I already wrote my stuff so bear with me plz.”

You lot are the prime example of refusing to see reason even when there’s evidence by the canon wikis and trustworthy folk who actually keep things fair.

Hold up, if y’all hold the standard of how characters should behave, I hope y’all aren’t treating your RL friends and loved ones like that! I mean wanting to ruin someone’s future over a minor error is extreme!

Could y’all please stop screeching? Cuz I could practically hear you twats from the other side of the country or world.

🙄 Are you deadass stupid? Why are y’all still creating salt fics? Lila already got kicked out of Marinette’s school! She ain’t coming back! She’s already banned there!

Are you guys mentally ok even after writing death fics of civilians? I question your sanity at this point bc I recall Lila getting beat up or even killed by prisoners in a grisly manner. In that same fic I remember had a pregnant teacher you despised got murdered by her husband for supposedly cheating on him and then he offed himself outta remorse bc the unborn child got killed. That’s extreme and going too far. What? Did some of y’all believe that the husband taking the child away from his/her “naive stupid” mother after divorcing her for her “crimes” weren’t enough? Look, that teacher may not be the best but she isn’t intentionally evil!

Everytime one of your kind gets off the internet aka removing such content or even deleting your socials for such horrendous content/actions, an Angel gets their wings and the rational people sigh in relief.

Maybe Pink Guy’s STFU song should only be blasted close range for the adults who act out that delusionally at public cons/gatherings.

mhm. Denial game strong for a lot of them

If only those in denial and those that lost their minds (on purpose) could

Crazy how despite how them not letting go and getting what they wanted against Lila, it just wasn’t enough. They just don’t want it to be. They’ll never be satisfied. And this for sure includes if Lila does go in their favor completely of what they desire. They’ll find or make up new strange ways or lore to justify destruction to Lila (even disturbing fics where she’s... by Adrien Cat Noir or Ladybug and its romanticized. It’s a big sigh to even drag Marinette and Adrien down, just cause Lila’s actions towards one of the two triggered the prompter or fic writer). There’s no limit to those wanting to be unrelentingly perturbed and legions of flunkies following defecation causing devastation.

Heck she was turned into a clam and mocked by Ladybug and got Clamutilated by Sarah and Ladybug before getting revived. Yep, another humiliation losers selected to usual ignore after getting what they wanted of kill Lila because things didn’t go how they wanted against her.

Also, that’s just ugh, they really decided to drag pregnant teacher (I guess this would be Caline Bustier) to be merked too. Yikes. Well seems they mastered how to be worse than whoever they hate and drag anyone else down for some metheaded reason. Sigh

Seems they are mostly a lost cause, set in their ways. As long as Lila to them, recovers, then she must be put down by any means until she can’t wake up. All of her must be shown. Not knowing yields a disturbance to many of them because they want to be disturbed. She must be explored for their purposes of reducing or finding something wrong with her to be fulfilled. She must be viewed as nothing, can’t do anything, or become someone that crawls back for their forgiveness delusion. Ironic part is they be against that thirst if Adrien Kagami Chloe (and Juleka if they bother remembering). And they will find new ways to put other characters down just because Lila.

Some self sabotaging, wanting to sabotage and humbling kink I guess they got or appeasement to protagonist side because yes.

Waste time to want to Put down or destroy to reconfigure her YES! Ignore and have better things to focus on is a NOOOOOOOOOH!

Their unstable reactions do make me question how they can even function in real life. I guess they are quite selective. Sometimes Miraculous Ladybug Season 5 makes me wonder if it’s a parody of how unstable many of these legions of salter watchers or salt fic writers who still refuse to be better and think better are or do.

They’re like I hate this I know is evil cruel unfair etc. I hate what’s going on. Then they switch to I want worse now upon this one because I can’t handle them as I wanted to handle them. This one didn’t stay down or gone as I wanted them to. I don’t want to think or care about what I’m prompting.

I wanted worse because I am an insecure disturbed weirdo emulation, and I didn’t wish to understand how I am asking for the very things I wished didn’t occur to be even worse now, while dragging many down that could have been left alone or left alone from being dragged down further. I choose instability over ignorability, despite I seen literal examples of why I shouldn’t go for instability path, countless times.

Certain peeps are unfortunately glitchy and predictable that it’s saddening. Unfortunate to the point, I am able to commit satirical derision about them.

Other dweebs be like: This character, I/we will assign as socio or psycho or obsessive or evil or no motive or no purpose or no motive.

*Also them dweebs towards such characters be rivaling, being, or succeeding who they decided to label such character as and got a legion of lames that pretend the mirror, showcasing their fugly meth mob mindset, doesn’t exist.*

[torc87]

Ok, I'm reaching the point of being pissed.

I started out going 'Palestine is a tragedy,people are suffering, children are traumatized,vits awful'

And you frankly stupid lot are pushing me to a position where I have to compare what is happening and defend it as not that bad.

Why?

Bc STOP FUCKING USING THE WORD HOLOCAUST TO DESCRIBE IT!!!

Do you know what Babiy Yar is? It's a ravine in Ukraine where more than THIRTY THOUSAND Jews were shot and thrown into in THREE DAYS. The entire amount of casualties in Palestine. The location was then later used AGAIN, until the sum total of people murdered and tossed in is 100,000-150,000.

This is a small drop of people murdered in the Holocaust.

The Holocaust lasted a decade or so.

Germany killed it's own Jews, Austria's, Ukraine's, 90 percent of Polish Jews were murdered - a large population, and demanded allied countries - such as the Arab ones, Italy, Japan, etc- hand over their Jews.

Those people were then separated. The ones capable of work were forcibly tattooed and sent to work camps. The others, the children, the babies, the ill, the old, the disabled, etc - were murdered.

( I am not including the non Jewish victims which were A LOT or the civilian casualties of fighting which were also A Lot bc people using this comparison are focusing on the Jewish persecution part so I'm responding based on that)

So in order for Palestine current events to be a Holocaust,

First off : everyone would need to be systematically gathered, separated into useful and not, forcibly tattooed/marked/numbered as animals so their names are meaningless and they are dehumanized, and any children, elderly, ill, disobedient would just be shot out of hand.

The survivors would be imprisoned, starved, abused, and put to work.

Then there would be the demand that surrounding countries hand over their Palestinian refugees. Germany demanded countries hand over full citizens. Egypt, Jordan, Syria haven't given the refugees citizenship status I believe.

The numbers each day would be horrific - 10,000 or more daily.

Hammas would not be able to bomb Israel - after all, in the Holocaust the Jewish people had no organized defense. They resisted - w rifles stolen and captured. They hadn't had time to prepare tunnels to hide in, stores off food in those tunnels, ammunition, bombs, training to use weaponry. Resistance would be former civilians.

It would be a nine year old managing to get in and out of a ghetto bc he had light colored hair and could sneak through to help. And get hit over the head w a riffle butt. My grandfather by the way.

It would not be citizens in other countries protesting and sending money. It would be those same citizens handing their own Palestinians over like Ukrainian and Polish handed their Jews over. It would be Americans refusing to take in any refugees and sending ships back to Germany. It would be people caring only when their own borders were breached.

That would be what a Holocaust would be like.

6 million people. A decade of systematic enslavement and murder.

That is what you are comparing it to.

That is the memory you are stealing and appropriating for emotion points.

How flaming DARE you!

Use the atrocities the US commuted in Iraq while you and your parents waffled on who to support. Use similar situations if you wish.

But don't bloody well put me in the position of having to explain that Palestine is nowhere near as bad as the Holocaust bc there should be Zero comparison needed to justify the fact that people suffer is bad.

You are basically saying that hey, remember when those ten people got enslaved, tortured, and murdered? This person that got stabbed in the leg today is Exactly like that! We are going to call the situation today by the name the families of the victims gave to losing their loved ones!

Oh, and if you start saying the relatives are involved in the stabbing? Do recall that Palestinian arabs were on the German side of things and cooperated w the Nazis.

Which, again, for those w low reading comprehension and zero empathy, does Not mean that Palestinians suffering today is ok. I don't bloody care what their great grandparents did. Well, ok, I care bc chances are great they were helping murder my great aunts and uncles , but the reality is, past is past. The people alive today need to be safe, healthy, and able to live normal lives. The Palestinian children need to live free of the trauma of war, screw what their parents did or did not do w Hammas. Why? Bc they are children and deserve to be taken care of. Not bc what is happening is anywhere on the level of the Holocaust but bc it shouldn't HAVE TO be for people to care and help.

Bc using an tragedy that rings through our communities, touches us personally still four generations in, appropriating it for emotion points and trying to use it Against us, is....

Are you trying to turn potential supporters away?

Trying to convince us that our greatest most recent pain and suffering will never matter to non Jews? That all we have is each other? Bc that is how you convince people to turn clanish and inwards.

I'm a Russian born Jew. Didn't grow up w the religion. An not a part of the Jewish community in the US. Don't celebrate holidays unless my mother wants to have a family dinner. I've been Pagan since I was 16.

And the antisemitism I see, the use of my grandfather pain and suffering as a 9 year old child, the use of his enslavement , his families enslavement, for a gotcha is pushing me far closer to my Jewish identity than I have ever been in my life.

You succeeded. Succeeded in making me feel other. Succeeded in making me feel like growing up in the US wasn't enough. Succeeded in making me feel unsafe. Succeeded in making me consider what I would do if things got worse, where I would flee - my mother has talked about it since I was little and I never understood. US was safe, we were accepted here, citizens like anyone else. Right?

What your disrespect of an atrocity that didn't touch you personally tells me is that my safety, my families safety, our heritage, our pain and sorrow - they are Nothing to you.

You don't know or care or possibly even think it justified.

And if it isn't personal to you? If you don't grieve? If you can't name your three year old grand cousin ( my great grandfather's sisters child) who was ripped out of her mother's arms by Nazis and dashed by her feet onto a tree? Fucking well keep the word Holocaust out of your mouth.

[marshmallow--3]

Okay let's find some way to unwrap this dream

Irl, I woke up around 9ish am, watched some Facebook clips of American shows (Drop Dead Diva & Law and Order: SVU) that I don't have access to, then it got to about noon and I realised I was still tired, so I had an internal debate of whether I should listen to my body bc it kept passing out and abruptly waking up, or if I should be sensible bc if I went to sleep then, I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight for work tomorrow

I decided to nap for 20 minutes, woke up after 20 minutes and decided I was still tired

So I went back to sleep and would keep waking up abruptly, so I had lots of quick succession flashes of the same dream and it's super interesting

The dream:

There was a young girl, aged 7 at most, on trial for murder

She wasn't physically present at court but spoke through a purple children's toy called Ayuda (Spanish: "help")

And she attested that she was in a nurse's office and a man dressed like Santa walked in - she was very clear that the man wasn't really Santa, he was just the nurse's husband dressed up like Santa

Then she had a blackout episode

Then she woke up covered in blood with a bloody knife in her hands, the nurse was dead, she'd been viciously stabbed to death, and the man dressed like Santa was looking terrified on the opposite side of the room, also covered in blood

But in court, the man was attesting that he was the real Mr Santa Claus and his wife was also present confirming her identity as the real Mrs Claus

The girl had a blackout episode so she couldn't confirm for sure what happened, but she knows she didn't kill the nurse, and experts are saying that the force used to stab the nurse could only come from an adult

Mr Claus was saying he was in the office the whole time and saw the little girl stab the nurse to death

So it's a trial of, who did this? This little girl or this man claiming to be the real Santa Claus?

And then later, there was a call with this little girl through Ayuda, because she's actually part of a sect (cults are for cunts with cash, sects are separate from society, I learnt this in Sociology & RE) and was kidnapped from home; one of the investigating agents said, "you're really brave, I'm glad you want to be free", and the little girl replied, "no, you only think I do", and then the call went dead - also it was never her real voice coming through, it was programmed to sound like the toy's voice, so it's this cheerful robotic voice coming from the toy

And then later it was revealed that monsters exist amongst humans

There was a woman who was a suspect, she was believed to be a monster who didn't actually need a heart to live and fed off violence and human souls

So she was tricked by some civilians who are the teenage kids of the investigating agents to undergo heart surgery

They tricked her because they removed the heart entirely and woke her up, told her that everything was fixed - her heart was left on the table and her chest was still wide open - but she just smiled and tried to pass as authentically grateful for saving her life, and there's no indication at all that she feels pain or any sensations at all

And then the teenagers are like, "one more thing, look down"

And she does, and sees her chest cavity is empty and that her ribs are still cracked open and her insides are on show

And she takes her time looking up, looking from under her eyebrows and a grin starts to form and she says one word, "Oops" before launching herself at them in attack

And then there were another part of the teenage group who found out that one of their friends had been staging clues around the detectives, pretending that the little girl had been in contact, and they referred to the toy they'd left as Bebéita (Spanish(?): Little baby)

So they took their friend before the detectives to clear things up, and the detectives withheld information to see if she were the real deal anyway, they raised their voice and lowered their voice, because they knew from investigating what effect this had on the voice of the little girl

And this teenager projected the little girl's voice through her and followed exactly what the detectives where expecting even though she didn't know what effects there would be to falsify it

Anyway so you'd think that no-heart murder lady was the real murderer but she's actually only a follower

The truth of the case is that the little girl had murdered the nurse in the sense that it was her body used, but a dark spirit possessed her to do it

The real murderer was this floating purple plasma body

And some scenes that stick out:

The no-heart murder lady had intended to murder one of the detectives but the detective came back from the dead because she also had monster powers but no-heart murder lady did not know this

The little girl and the purple plasma murder blob were always watching the detectives from across the city and the detectives knew this so whenever they stepped outside, they were just like

even with a kid's playground near the precinct 😂

Fun dream, fun times

[jostenneil]

Additionally, I also got spoiled with this but the ending was to be expected after watching b*each and naruto, but I can’t believe ametris continues to run as a militant, imperialistic state! I know you talked about the characters and what you wished what was addressed, but is there something you would change with the plot or writing? I think my overall thing among the several other poor plot points, i wished there wasn’t a “big bad.”

i have a few ideas so i'll just bullet point them

have ed and winry be confronted with their racism during the briggs arc and begin to slowly reformulate their stances based on that. with winry esp i think there was a lost opportunity when she was traveling among the slums that ishvalans migrated to bc it would have given her an idea that these were people who suffered far more than she ever did

quit having other ishvalan character patronize scar by telling him he's being too violent or that he can only solve the problem from within the system. acknowledge his agenda as specific and calculated to address state alchemists and their genocidal power, and acknowledge it as a valid one

let riza kill roy in the tunnels lmao! i have meta about that here and here so i'm just gna link it instead of rehashing my thoughts on that

fit hohenheim into the narrative regarding the ishvalan war. this is actually one of my bigger gripes that i think goes pretty unaddressed in fandom bc people are so focused on hohenheim as a father. where was he during the ishvalan war? as someone with such overwhelming power and what with him being intimately familiar with genocide being used to make philosopher's stones, how did he not have a part to play when the ishvalans were dying?

also regarding hohenheim, let him survive another year after the main events of the series are over. i think another big tragedy with him is he has such vast stores of knowledge and a far broader world view than either ed or al possess, and it's like. why kill him before either of them can be exposed to that like i get that it's about him coming home and being prepared to die at trisha's side finally but idk. another year wouldn't have prevented that

OH! also something i've talked about previously but let winry find out her parents chose to stay in ishval and that they treated as many ishvalan patients as they could despite the threat to their own lives. that way she recognizes their selflessness in comparison to her selfishness and can begin to sympathize with the ishvalans the way they always did

an obv progression, but let the war tribunal actually happen after the series is over lol. let the disaster of the coup and the military corruption pave the way for a new form of government to take shape in amestris rather than just propping up another fuhrer with not entirely righteous intentions

make the effort to restore ishval a civilian one. why would the ishvalans ever let the military back onto their land regardless of how sorry they are. let people like ed and winry and the people of liore or other similar slums who also know what it's like to be rendered into collateral damage of war and selfish intentions come together to help ishval prosper again. the military can send their money instead lol

i realize i haven't mentioned al enough but let him actually have more political presence within the story. i love his character and his arc is impt but it's undeniable that he's mostly used to prop up ed and that esp holds for him as a political presence bc he pretty much. . . has none. he obv voices outcry about the philosopher's stones being made from human lives but it doesn't extend much beyond that and idk i think it's such a disservice to his potential bc i think his specific experience lends him the potential to not be nearly as narrow minded in worldview as ed is. also i think it would be interesting to explore another aspect of how al challenges ed to be better

make ed and al leaving the military not just be about the fact that they only wanted peace for themselves but also as part of a stand against what they realize the system has become. also they need to be political activists like i'm sry but the fact that they just retire and get to live their lives in peace is such a liberal fantasy ajkfjgfklh at the least they should be dedicating themselves to helping rebuild ishval or even better to actively campaigning for abolishment of military practices esp those related to alchemy

i probably have more but this is what i can think of for now lol. i def get what you're saying about there not being one "big bad" like obv there had to be given father orchestrated. . . everything but it's definitely true that bc he was so emphasized we lost the plot with the military being a bad, corrupt entity and that was bad jgkdjgljfl

[mister13eyond]

i started to put all this in the tags of the last reblog but it was just Too Fucking Much and a little off topic so here comes somewhat of an essay about jojo & characterization & diavolo & punishment LMAOO. under a readmore bc damn this got long.

anyways one thing i see over and over is a sentiment that either side of sort of fails to comprehend the inherent flaw in: "diavolo did/didn't deserve the deathloop"

now the first point i inherently disagree with- no one deserves eternal punishment and I am wholly and fully a believer in redemption, especially re: my strong feelings about the punitive justice system doing more harm than good. you simply cannot punish someone into improving, that's never worked and never will

however the whole question is flawed because it approaches the idea that diavolo's punishment was a moral judgement, especially that it was one made on giorno's part, and that misses what the purpose of the deathloop was. giorno's moral compass as a character is strong but observably outside of the standard, societal view of moral/immoral. we see- in the case of cioccolata- that giorno does not mind lies, cruelty or outright wickedness if he feels it's justified. rather, giorno's greatest offense is at actions he finds insulting or disrespectful. he finds polpo's killing of the janitor disrespectful because it's dragging innocent bystanders into what should be a conflict between himself and polpo. he finds ciocolatta disgraceful because of his careless, chaotic widespread destruction. it's showing disrespect to giorno as a combatant. by giorno's standards, diavolo's actual killings are never DIRECTLY in violation of his morals. you can say a lot about how diavolo's particular WAY of running the mafia allowed for a great deal of harm to innocent people- the drug trade was shown to have been involving civilians, especially young ones, by getting them addicted- but it was Bruno who felt MOST strongly about this, and I believe Giorno adopted his morals because he trusted and believed in Bruno. the only people diavolo killed directly were people who threatened his position- people who sought his identity, people who betrayed him. the boat scene shows both bruno and giorno understood this was a risk in opposing them, and that they knew they might lose allies along the way, so i don't think giorno necessarily thought this was evil on a moral level. (on a personal one? sure. you don't fuck with giorno's allies. he'll do anything to ensure everyone crosses the finish line, if possible.)

but the deathloop isn't retribution for diavolo's crimes as the leader of passione, nor is it based on diavolo's killing giorno's allies. the deathloop is based on giorno's (subconscious, thus being carried out by Gold Experience Requiem) feelings about diavolo's PRINCIPLES and METHODS. It is by all means a LITERARY punishment- based on narrative- than it is a moral hero doing something to punish evildoing. because the thing is, diavolo has spent his entire life skipping through the middle to reach the end. he's spent his entire life fast forwarding through process to reach the results. his entire stand is based on jumping forward to the outcome, and that means that as a person he has always reaped all of the rewards without any of the sacrifice or struggle.

giorno, on the other hand, plays out an incredibly classic rags to riches story. he began his story poor, neglected, abused, outcast. he consciously took an action that led to him saving a man's life, and then he set his sights on a goal on the distant horizon. when we meet him in the beginning of vento aureo he is already grinding towards that goal- he's working on getting involved in organized crime by starting with petty crime like pickpocketing and taxi fraud. he is not acting MORALLY- he knows this is crime! he is not bothered by the fact he is bribing police and stealing money from hapless tourists! but he is acting according to his own principles- that hard work and grind will eventually help him reach his lofty dream. every step of the way we see him willing to make sacrifices and put himself at risk in order to advance- he gets poisoned during the Man In The Mirror fight and then endures a lot of pain to give himself the antidote. He cuts off his own hand during the Notorious BIG fight in order to try and save the others. he is not prone to martyrdom or self-sacrifice the way Bruno is (that could be its own entire essay good lord) but he IS fully willing to endure pain, loss of limbs, and bodily harm to ensure he reaches his dream.

that is the key moral difference between giorno and diavolo. that is the thing that makes them narrative foils. this is a story of gangster vs gangster, so none of the parties within occupy a place of being societally moral. but giorno represents "put everything on the line and work hard to achieve your dreams" and diavolo represents "do it as quickly and as easily as possible, just skip to the results."

the deathloop is not about eternal punishment in the sense of retribution. the deathloop is a sense of "diavolo will constantly endure the PROCESS (pain, suffering) that he was never willing to endure, without ever reaching the RESULTS (the permanent outcome of death)." it is not because giorno believes diavolo should be "punished" for "evildoing"- giorno is not a moral hero. it is because giorno finds it insulting that diavolo was not prepared to sacrifice himself or take risks to maintain his power; just as giorno punished cioccolata with the eight-page muda for being sloppy and distasteful, he punished diavolo with an endless iteration of suffering without achieving anything for it because he believed it was disrespectful to hold unearned power.

[astralkoo]

the huntress | jungkook (teaser)

Pairing: jungkook x (f.) reader

Genre: werewolf au, hunter au, action, thriller, angst, fluff, smut

Rating: 18+ (graphic violence / explicit sexual content)

Estimated Final Word Count: 15-20k??? Maybe more bc it’s already at 7.4k and I haven’t even fully hit on the main plot yikes

Teaser Word Count: 1,780

Summary: You are a hunter. You are a protector. And you are a killer. These are simple facts. Facts that have been drilled into your head since you were a child. These facts are all that you know, all that you can rely on when the world around you is constantly changing. But, what can you do when one of the very creatures you’ve been taught to hunt, taught to kill, taught to hate makes you question everything you once believed?

Warnings: explicit language, descriptions of blood, graphic violence, death, killing/murder, jk is kept in a cage, panic attack, betrayal, sad jk, explicit sexual content; sex in a lake, unprotected sex (please be safe!!), sub!jungkook, dom!reader, virgin!jungkook, lots of whining, light dirty talk, hand job, fingering, jk has a kissing kink, oral (f. receiving), biting, reader calls jk puppy (all warnings are subject to change)

Release Date: TBD

A/N ; ah shit here we go. she’s been coming along pretty smoothly, so I thought it was the right time put the teaser out for you guys! I’m really excited to get the full fic posted and hopefully it won’t be too far in the future, but with my track record... I can make no guarantees. thank you for 1.4K followers!! I hope you enjoy!

You felt it building in your chest, swelling into something large and uncontainable. The sensation creeping up your throat, filling the back of your mouth and forcing open your jaws. Tears sprung to the corners of your eyes and your dry lips strained as they stretched open, the monstrous yawn finally breaking free.

Fuck. You are so tired.

It had been an exhausting day to begin with and of course, with your luck, it was your turn to take the night watch.

Around you, the forest was alive: crickets and cicadas singing lazy songs, the warm summer breeze rustling through the leaves, the waning moon casting a cool silver glow over the sleeping earth. Beside you, the dying remains of a bonfire flickers and spits blazing embers, choking and fading with every gust of wind. The darkness is slowly closing in, the eerie shadows of the surrounding trees creeping closer and closer with every passing minute.

Gravity pulled at your eyelids, the sweet lure of sleep all too tempting.

Crack.

You shot upright, eyes wide and alert, ears straining. It was too dark to see past the outer layer of trees, and a heavy silence followed, only remedied by the soft crackling of the singed wood. There’s a familiar prickle under your skin, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. It’s dark, but you don’t need to see to know that there is something out there. Call it a self-made sixth sense if you will, something you’ve developed and trained into perfection over the course of many years.

Instinctively, your fingers reached for your bow. The sleek black metal scraped against the large stone it was propped up on as you swiftly and silently fall into position. Unsheathing an arrow from the leather quiver, you pull it back against the string until you feel that perfect tension. The side of your thumb caresses the cool skin of your cheek, and you close one eye, honing in on the dark tree line.

Come on. Give me a reason.

But you’re only rewarded with silence.

After a few tense moments, you slowly lowered your weapon, brow twitching in irritation.

“Get a grip, y/n.” You grumbled roughly.

You were on edge. It’s understandable; you were in completely unfamiliar territory, with no reliable knowledge of the land or its inhabitants to lean back on. The knowledge which you did have, however (that being the knowledge that the nearby town had been getting ravaged by a bloodthirsty beast under the cover of nightfall), didn’t ease the tension in your shoulders in the slightest.

After all, that was the whole reason for your troop’s relocation.

A little over three weeks ago, the head of your troop received a letter from a desperate mayor, pleading for your help. They had a problem. Almost every night for the past month, towns people that wandered the streets late into the evening when the sun had set behind the hills and the moon had risen past the horizon, whether it be walking home from a long day of work or going for an evening jog when the summer heat wasn’t so unbearable, had been getting killed. No, not killed— slaughtered.

You’d seen the pictures.

No human being was capable of doing what had been done to those people.

Ergo, the exigency for your troop’s presence.

This town didn’t need cops, they didn’t need police or detectives searching for some rampant serial killer. What they needed were hunters. More specifically, werewolf hunters. Which is precisely what you were. ‘Slayers of the Supernatural’, some might say. Your job was simple: find the murderous creature responsible for the bloody deaths of thirty seven innocent civilians, and eliminate the problem, once and for all. Pretty cut and dry when you think about it.

And for a troop as skilled and experienced as yours, finding and ending this bloodthirsty beast should be a cinch.

But, that didn’t make sitting out, so painfully alone in the dark of night with a killer werewolf on the loose any less unnerving.

Now, you weren’t afraid of the monster itself, you’d held your own against its kind and worse plenty of times in the past. No, it was the deafening silence that was most disquieting. The stillness. The lack of happening. It set you on edge, made it feel like you had to hold your breath to get the slightest idea of what was going on around you. The wait had always been your least favorite part of the hunt, despite it being one of the most vital.

You’ll admit, you can be impatient. It was your most notable cause of failure back in your training days and in some of your earlier hunts. But you’ve gotten better, become capable of capping your overzealous antics, improved in terms of self restraint. Though, you’d still much rather be in the heart of the action than sitting on the sidelines and waiting with buzzing anticipation nipping at your heels.

Exhaling heavily, you slumped back onto the ground, exhaustion quickly seeping back into your sore muscles once the brief flush of adrenaline drained from your system.

Then you heard the rustling of leaves. But this— it was different from the sound made when the breeze wisps through them. There was a certain force to it, a heaviness in the way the branches clicked and the leaves crunched. It was the sound of a body moving through the heavy foliage. A large animal? Maybe. Or perhaps it was something else entirely. Not human. Not an animal. But something in between.

Your hand was around the grip of your bow in less than a second, body swiftly falling into a low crouch.

It was dark. But the moon spilled just enough light over the forest for you to catch a glimpse of a silhouette: a tall, dark shape moving slowly through the brush. You had your mark. Now you just needed a reason to loose your arrow.

Never strike without absolute certainty that you have your eye on the right target. That’s what Junmyeon always drilled into your head during training after you attacked too early and without proper understanding of who (the dummy representing an innocent civilian, in such cases) you’d been aiming at. Because if you somehow mistook an innocent for one of the beasts you hunt— it was a thought you didn’t want to so much as consider.

Teeth gritting, you carefully followed the shadowy figure, feet shifting silently across the dirt. Suddenly, your boot clad toe suddenly knocked a pebble, sending it skittering across the ground. You froze, and so did the silhouette. Then its head whipped in your direction, and the very second you saw the flash of two unmistakable red eyes, your fingers released the taut string, sending the arrow whizzing into the tree line.

A shriek of agony ripped through the calm night air. The figure staggered, doubling over, before quickly righting itself and whirling around, taking off into the dense, black forest.

You didn’t let so much as a fraction of a second pass before you launched yourself off the dirt ground and bolted into the woods after the creature, a delicious combination of red hot adrenaline and childlike excitement immediately consuming you. It was this— this feeling, this exhilaration that you lived for. That you hunted for. It drove you in ways nothing else ever had. The combination of blood rushing through your veins and your heart thundering in your ears created an almost euphoric sensation. It was a high, thrilling and electrifying. But perhaps those weren’t quite the right words to describe it.

Maybe it was the fact that for these moments as you were rushing through the brush, low branches slicing at your arms and face, cool wind winding through your hair, you could clear your mind and focus only on this one thing, on putting every ounce of your energy into this one moment to accomplish this one feat. There wasn’t— there couldn’t be a single invading thought, doubt, concern. There was nothing but boiling determination, molten in your bloodstream.

Ahead of you, the creature rushed frantically through the dense forest, weaving and staggering around the bulging trunks of towering trees. It was trying to lose you. But you excelled when it came to the chase. The fact that it was wounded also helped; the dark red blood stained the leaves and mossy earth, leaving a clear path for you to follow.

You were catching up, the distance between you and it growing smaller and smaller with each moment. You could hear the creature's heavy footfalls, the crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs. Within a few strides, you were within arms distance. If you were to reach out your hand—

Just as your fingertips grazed its back, you broke through the tree line. The creature, caught off guard, stumbled. A fatal mistake. Before it had a chance to recover, you rammed your shoulder into its back, directly between its shoulder blades, sending it stumbling forward with a stunned yelp. You hadn’t even noticed the massive body of water until he fell into it. Always be aware of your surroundings, you reminded yourself sharply, before honing in on your target. The water, reflecting the night sky like a mirror, rippled and spat around the form of the creature as it attempted to scramble away from you. But you didn’t let it get far.

You thrust yourself on top of him, pinning his kicking legs down with your own and making a grab for his flailing arms. A sharp hiss rushed past your teeth when you felt something slice into your arm, but you paid no heed to the warm, familiar trickle of blood. It only fueled the roaring fire of determination inside of you further. He was bucking up, thrashing wildly, trying to throw you off, but you held fast, angling yourself in such a way that you had the upper hand. Icy water splashed across your face, seeping into your clothes as you used all your strength to keep him down. But it wasn’t easy fighting a werewolf with your bare hands. Not even a wounded one. And you were quickly growing sick of feeling the piercing sting of his claws cutting through your clothes and biting into your skin.

In one swift motion, you unsheathed the silver blade hidden in a pouch sewn into the inside of your boot. Every muscle in his body froze up at the feeling of cold metal pressing threateningly against his vulnerable throat.

Panting through clenched teeth, you pinned him with a chilling glare.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat.”

[mrskurono]

a/n: the second chapter! This was going to be longer but I decided to divide it up into two for ease of reading. Gege gives us no canon idea yet so who knows if any of this is right word count: 2k tags: post!Shibuya arc, takes place during this current arc in the manga, I can’t say manga spoilers bc we don’t know what’s going on, Culling Game content character(s): Noritoshi Kamo, fem!sorcerer reader pt l

No lie when you descended the mountain side from the empty temple. 

In fact you had never seen so many cots and sleeping arrangements in one place. Every piece of floor under Kamo name seemed to have a pair of feet on it. Most of them not even familiar with the grounds. Many of them found outside in this mess just like you had been. All of them proclaiming thanks to the young heir who'd shepherded them to this safe haven at least.

Displaced. And taken in without question. Noritoshi truthfully wasn't lying. At least about this.

Among those rescued were bunches of children. Someone knowing where their parents were. And some less fortunate. When a group of them who'd been seen without a parent or guardian since you came, were circled around a little girl who'd tripped. You found a moment of purpose to help when everything else was in disarray. 

Wiping clean your hands on the backs of your pants after helping get the smudge of dirt off the little girls knees. And assure the rest of the kids that there was no blood and no one was going to get them. They were put at ease and acting more like rowdy kids as they began to go their own way once again. You don't quite hear what the cluster of kids said when they run off in the opposite direction. Unaware of most things but what was right in front of them after you consoled them. 

Instead of what was right in front of you, your eyes drift up towards the same thing you had been staring at every day since descending down the hill.

"It got bigger."

More than just caught off guard. You whip around to the semi familiar voice behind you. Noritoshi, with his arms crossed under the sleeves of his robes as he leans into the side of the doorway the kids originally tripped through. He was looking exactly at what you were as well. Looming over most of the city and Kyoto countryside was an eye sore more than just a new building. 

A blotch along the skyline. 

Devoid of light and overshadowing everything else. Even at high noon it felt like days had become dimmer since that thing blossomed into existence. Just like the rank stench of a curse. Whatever that thing was left your nostrils burning and skin crawling.

Noritoshi pushed off the door frame and straightened back up, "Do you have a moment?"

"Seems that's all I have these last few days." You retort to your host. Gracious as he was. The past two days felt nothing short of cabin fever from feeling so useless amongst the uncertainty. Not as humorous about it as you seemed to be. You redact your comment and answer him, "Yeah what?"

Still facing up towards the nameless bubble that overtook much of Kyoto, Noritoshi came beside you to clear his throat and lower his voice, "I was wondering if you gave anymore thought to what I told you."

Your eyebrow arched up, "That I can kill you if you lied to me?" The Kamo family head was not amused again so you folded your arms and stiffened up a little, "That sounded like gibberish. How am I suppose to believe anything you said when communications are basically down."

"The heads of the family have always been in contact," Noritoshi drew his attention away from the looming threat and back onto you, "The clans existed before the elders even. Besides, we were allotted more direct information today."

"Ok?" 

"I'd like to that to show you."

This sounded like a favor being disguised as something else. You hold onto your breath unsure what was in the best interest of you or anyone at this point. All you really knew was everything stunk like a persistent curse and you wanted it to end.

"Why aren't the clans working together then?" You poise a real question any sane thinking human would come up with. While equipped to deal with curses you did not feel equipped to deal with the politics of it all. 

A grimace on his face unlike the one the day before, "Things are....less than ideal."

"Really?"

Noritoshi wasn't delighted with your tone.

You sigh and decide against anything to self serving at his expense, "Fine. If it means possibly keeping everyone safe then what is it?"

That caught him slightly off guard, "What about yourself?" Noritoshi asked frankly.

Of course you scowl that someone from one of the clans would ask that, "I didn't become a Jujutsu Sorcerer to keep myself safe."

Admirable. He had to nod to that. Turning away quickly when he beckoned you to follow him back towards the innards of the Kamo estate.

Unlike the last time you were invited into what could only be described as a mock situations room. That had been involving dirty stares from a handful of men you didn't know or even heard of. And your credentials as a sorcerer scrutinized even in a time of panic when you thought help would be welcomed with open arms. Apparently the clans firmly held onto the idea that those serving themselves was severing everyone around them. You objectiably had different ideas about sorcery. 

Thankfully unlike last time when you had to deal with a room full of stuffy mindsets. You were surprised but worried to find no one awaiting to tell you that you couldn't be in there. 

What was there happened to be a jumble of papers, or what could constitute as a jumble, and two chairs pulled away from the table. Something about the urgency of such a small meeting left your skin crawling seeing the mess. Unease not worn often on your exterior. You looked around at the papers on the table and no one going over them.

"What is this?" You pick up the first few on the top with what appeared to be Noritoshi's hand writing all over them. Most of it seemed like chicken scratch saved for one word you picked out of the bunch, "Culling? What? What is this?"

Somber look on his pale features left Noritoshi gathering his thoughts like he was doing to the papers strewn out, "The heads of the family received more information on what those things seem to be connected to."

"Why aren't you discussing this with your clan then?" 

A pause from the man next to you, "...it seems alliances are already being formed."

Your brows pinch together leaving you to search for more of the papers on the table for an explanation, "Alliances? Alliances of what? What does this have to do with the giant stink ball in Kyoto? Or the curses? What does this have to do with what you told me yesterday about the Shibuya incident report?"

Something unfamiliar on the Sorcerer's face. You hadn't seen it yet. Something accustomed to worry crept onto Noritoshi and he handed you one piece of paper yet to make it into your grasp, "You couldn't have any idea working independently. That's why I asked you to come look these over. I just...I need someone to tell me they're reading this like I am."

Swelling your chest with a deep breath. You snatch the paper from him with a skeptical look once over. Whatever could be conjured up to add worse news to the unleashed curses rampaging across Japan. You held your breath with your eyes scanning it over. Feeling the air in you slowly draw out. Just as you finished the last few sentences. Suddenly you understood what could have made this worse.

"...it wants us to die..." Hands clammy and grasping for another deep breath, you read over the part again about the nineteen day warning. 

No, it wasn't a warning. This was an outright threat.

You shake your head trying to count the days that had melded together in your mind since everything went haywire, "That means...well, one...two...four-"

"Every Jujutsu Sorcerer has two weeks," Noritoshi having already done the math tipped his head down to scan the table for something. He took the deep breath you just couldn't seem to get a hold of. He grabbed for a paper tucked under pens and you watch them roll and scatter away from him, "...As of yesterday I may have sent a small handful of Kamo members to check the site out."

"Before you go this information?"

Noritoshi nodded, "I got this only an hour ago." He focused on the paper in front of him, "There were five sorcerers sent....and none of them have contacted me since they left."

Rightfully so you didn't like where this was going.

"I need to go look for them...I can't leave people to die like this." Noritoshi, though most the time calm and without a crack to his facade, faced you with both his eyes open and a waiver to his tone, "Will you come with me? Please, if something is going to happen to other sorcerers I can't let them be a victim of my own faults."

Much like the confrontation when you both ran into each other in the abandoned temple. This request left you at odds with your choices. Like coming with him or staying up at the temple alone. You could go with him. Or you could tell him no.

No meant possibly saving your own hide. But thinking about what those papers said, well, saving yourself seemed to mean nothing with a countdown. Only slight extension of the inevitable.

"Who will stay here to watch the civilians then?" A real concern you saw with non sorcerers piled into one place. The buffet for a curse or two that might catch a whiff of the displaced humans.

"I have sorcerers stationed here. With a single grade two member and a handful of semi-grade two sorcerers." Noritoshi had planned straticigally even before knowing everything that came into light, "You're at least a semi-grade one I take it."

The assumption irked you as you hadn't divulged anything yet to him for the sake of keeping as many tokens stacked in your favor, "....something like that, I suppose."

"Then we should be ok for any curses if we're careful."

"And why ask me instead of one of your own?"

"Because...." Noritoshi dropped his gaze down to the mess in front of him, "...I can trust someone who has no ties to the clans." He stopped and looked at you, "You'll kill me if I'm lying, which means more people will be safe if in fact sorcerers are turning on people."

He was right. About killing him. Not once had the thought left since being on high alert during all of this. If everything you read on those notes were right then going alone was suicide. For either of you.

"...One promise," You firmly demand. Noritoshi remains silent but nods. Finally with a deep breath you find your calm, "...neither of us go in that thing until the eighteenth day. Even if your members already went into it."

He held out on your words for a moment. Either mulling them over or finding something to make you promise. Finally Noritoshi spoke up, "...what happens on the eighteenth day then?"

What would happen? You could see if this set of rules was a bluff or you could comply. Either outcome seemed grim with little control for anyone at all. Faux hope with what you said next.

"On the eighteenth day we both go in." You said somberly, "I'll go in with you and anyone else you deem trustworthy enough." 

For a second it looked like he was going to carry on about something. But there was one thing you had to remind him to see crystal clear about all this.

Stepping close to the sorcerer your voice lowers and you make him look at you, "...I will kill you if you're lying. That promise still stands. Either you're on my side or your not....culling game or not, I won't let someone rule over me. Got it?"

Maybe he was getting use to it. Or perhaps Noritoshi believed you both to be truthfully on the same side now. He gave a nod and didn't falter, "I expect nothing else from the angel of death I met on the mountain side."

[jettingtothemoon]

Shiggy

➳ pairing: shigaraki tomura x f!reader ➳ genre: angst, fluff ➳ warnings: mentions of death, swearing ➳ word count: 4119 ➳ rating: pg-15 ➳ summary: In which y/n joins the league of villains and discovers a soft side to her new boss. ➳ a/n: this is my first official oneshot that i wrote just for shiggy bc i just love him so much (*^.^*)

y/n never wanted to be a villain. She wanted to be a hero, one proud to help others no matter the reward. Well, that was until that one fateful day.

It was just like any other day but after that day, nothing would ever be the same again. y/n was at school when it happened; when the attack began. She should have been there because, just maybe with her quirk, she could have saved them. It was a villain never seen before, one so terrible that he killed or at least severely wounded every hero he came across in a matter of minutes. That was until Endeavour came along. By the time the great pro hero Endeavour arrived, the fight had made it's way to your street. As the fight continued, the families were evacuated out of their homes by other heroes and sidekicks, knowing that the damage to the street was going to be major in this colossal fight.

You could feel the rumbles and vibrations under your feet even as you sat at your desk only a few blocks away. It's probably just some construction work nearby, the teachers said. If only.

Your parents and little sister were still inside when it happened, not yet to be evacuated when the blast went off. Even Endeavour himself was having a tough time fighting this villain and, despite seeing that the villain was not going after any civilians, he let out a huge blast of fire. It engulfed half of the street in seconds, scorching the villain into submission. Everyone that end was supposed to have been evacuated, but they weren't, your family were still inside. Still hiding from the battle outside. They just wanted to live, to survive this terrifying fight. They weren't so lucky.

That was the day you lost all faith in heroes. Their job was to protect and rescue civilians but they couldn't even get that right. Why? Because they would earn more if they took down the villain. He couldn't have held him off until he was certain everyone was safe and outside of the blast radius. The worst part about it, not a single hero was harmed in the blast. They all saw it coming and, instead of rushing in to get your family out in time, they turned tail and fled before the blast could hit them.

Endeavour was reckless but those other heroes... they were cowards. They gave their lives a higher importance than that of your family. Your caring mother, your loving father, your baby sister. They were left to burn, to scorch in the hellflame as the so-called heroes ran away, leaving them behind.

You were left all alone. Your friends pitied you, tried to comfort you but their love for the very heroes that left your family to die remained. It was despicable, the way they loved them sickened you. They were your friends no more, not if they couldn't see what heroes really were. They were greedy, selfish, liars who all deserved to die in the place of your family.

Of course, you didn't act on those emotions at first. In fact, you simply lived your life quietly. You remained alone, you discarded the friends that didn't understand your hatred of heroes. You lived your life as any other citizen, keeping your head down and letting the heroes do what they wanted.

Well, that was until Stain emerged. The hero killer, he empowered you. He shared similar views to you but he still seemed to believe that there was such a thing as a good hero, for example, All Might. From what you had seen on the news and other videos that were circulating the web not long after his capture in Hosu, he believed that All Might was a true hero. You, however, once even believed Endeavour was a true hero. If the number two hero was a scumbag then you had no doubt that so was the number one. All Might, like Endeavour, was likely to have let the fame and power go to his head. That was why, despite agreeing with Stain's ideology, you still had no faith in there being any good heroes anymore. Maybe the future generations would prove you wrong, but you doubted it. The future generation of heroes were being trained by those very scumbags after all.

After the incident in Hosu, you turned to a different kind of lifestyle. You still lived your ordinary everyday life, sure, but you started going after those so-called heroes you detested so much. With your quirk, it wasn't too difficult to take down some sidekicks. Not that you actually killed any of them, no, you simply did enough damage to put them in the hospital for a long time.

Heroes sucked. That was just the stone-cold truth, even though you sometimes hated to admit it. Those whom you had looked up to your entire life were nothing but a bunch of phonies playing pretend. All they wanted was the money, fame and power. Not a single one of them truly wanted to save people, to protect the citizens that need it.

After a while, it wasn't only the heroes you detested but also all those people with quirks that didn't use them, despite knowing that their quirk could help save so many. Without a licence, using your quirk in public is prohibited but that wouldn't stop a true hero. A true hero would do whatever they could to help, not just stand by taking pictures. You hated that some people, those people whom sided with Stain, might take one look at you and lump you in with the rest.

Before long, whatever feelings you had for saving people was gone. You didn't want to be a hero anymore, you didn't want to save the people who didn't even deserve saving. The ones who deserved to be saved were those who really couldn't help in any of those situations. The people with quirks that were practically useless in combat or would be too dangerous to use against other people. But most of all, the quirkless. There were not many quirkless people anymore but your mother was one of them. She lived without a quirk and she died without a quirk, maybe even because she didn't have a quirk. Your father wasn't to blame either, in that situation, his quirk wouldn't have been much help and your sister was so young that hers hadn't even surfaced before she died. Your's, however, could have helped. You could have safely evacuated your family on your own before the blast went off. You could have saved them, but you weren't there.

Not too long after you began going after sidekicks, stirring up quite a fuss in the news, you were approached by a rather interesting man.

"So you're the one they're calling Streak?" His voice was bland matching his face which was void of any emotion.

You turned back to the sidekick that was lying behind you with several glowing, neon scorches over his arms and legs, then back to the man before you, "I suppose I am."

Although you were ready to break out into a fight at any moment, this was a man you didn't recognise. He wasn't a hero or sidekick, that was for sure. Neither was he any ordinary civilian. A villain then?

"We have a proposal for you." A small girl also turned into the alley, smiling at you brightly yet somewhat wickedly.

Although you doubted the two of them and kept your guard up the whole way, you followed them back to what seemed to be their base of operations.

"A bar?" You questioned, following them inside in hopes of finding out what exactly they wanted.

Neither of them answered you and so, you simply continued to follow them down the steps until you were in the room at the bottom. There was another man sitting at the bar and one behind it. The man behind the bar looked interesting and all but it was the one sitting there, with a disembodied hand over his face, swirling a glass in his hand with his pinky raised, whom you found truly intriguing.

"You brought her?" The man behind the bar spoke.

He kind of looked like a walking shadow with bright yellow eyes. You recognised him somewhat, although you were unsure of where from. The same went for the man sitting at the bar, who was still yet to turn around and face you.

"Of course we did. If the boss says to go find the girl, we go find the girl." The younger girl declared although it was funny she was referring to you as the girl when she was so clearly younger than you.

"See, they listen to me." The man at the bar finally spoke with his somewhat mellow voice and put his glass down.

You simply tilted your head to the side as he turned to you, trying to take in his appearance but, thanks to the hand covering his face, you ended up just staring into his scarlet eyes.

Those very eyes narrowed at you and he sighed, "Are you sure you got the right one? She doesn't look much like a villain to me."

"You don't look all that much like a villain either, Shigaraki Tomura." You finally realised who you were speaking to, recognising him from the news as the leader of the league of villains, and to be honest, you were flattered that they had reached out to you.

"Tsk. You haven't seen what I look like without father yet."

You were unsure what he meant by father but decided not to ask. Not that you had much time to because he was already speaking again, although he turned back to his drink first and began swirling it again.

"So, what do you think about joining the league of villains?"

"I didn't think you would be that straight up." You giggled slightly.

Shigaraki, however, only began to lose his patience and began scratching his neck, "Do you want to help us destroy the heroes or not?"

"Oh, I'm in, but why did you single me out specifically?" You asked.

Shigaraki sighed but didn't speak any more than that, and so, the man behind the bar answered you, "We've been watching you for a while. Your agenda seems to match with ours and there is no doubting your usefulness in a fight. We believe you will be a valuable asset."

"I believe I will." You grinned.

"What exactly is your quirk anyway?" The man behind you asked.

You turned to him, trying once again to avoid staring at the unusual burn scars that covered his body, "Well, my quirk is neon. I can emit a neon light from both the palms of my hands and the tips of my fingers. The light is kind of like a laser, it burns through pretty much anything it touches. I can also use the neon energy within me to charge my body and the use a burst of that energy to move from one place to another in the blink of an eye. Although, using my quirk too much can take a lot of energy so I can only do that a couple of times before I'm completely worn out. As for the beams I shoot from my hands, they don't use as much energy so as long as I've eaten a good breakfast I'm good to go for hours."

Shigaraki turned his head to you, seemingly finding some interest in hearing about your quirk before focusing his attention back on swirling his drink again.

And that was how you joined the league of villains. After officially becoming a member, you learnt that the man behind the bar was called Kurogiri. He was quite possibly the most normal of the villains. Although, none of them were really all that normal at all.

Dabi, or as you liked to call him 'fireman', was almost quiet. He didn't act as though he cared for, well, anything. Although, he certainly enjoyed fighting heroes. Pretty much all of the time he showed little to no emotion, but somehow the two of you had gotten along quite well since you joined the league.

Toga was quite possibly insane, but that only gave her personality. She was fun to be around and you enjoyed hanging out with another girl around your age, although she was a few years younger than you. The nickname you had given her was 'loopy' and surprisingly she didn't mind it nor find offence in it. Maybe it was because she was starting to like you, or maybe simply because Kurogiri told her to play nice.

Shigaraki had his own nickname too, of course, although he didn't like it. He would have much rather you call him boss or just his name but instead you were persistent in calling him by 'Shiggy'. You called him that not only because of his name but also his shaggy hair, it was kind of a combination of the two. That shaggy hair was something you had grown used to seeing, you even went as far as to ruffling it this one time but, obviously, he didn't much appreciate it and threatened to turn you to dust with four of his fingers wrapped around your wrist.

Actually, Kurogiri was the only one who didn't have a bizarre nickname. The most he got was a casual 'Kuro', which he seemed to prefer anyway.

Getting along with everyone was much easier than you expected it to be. Well, except for when it came to Shigaraki. Your boss was... difficult, to say the least. And, although he didn't seem to mind you, his cold exterior kept pushing you away when you tried to talk to him about something other than work or attempted to know him better.

It was over a week before he removed his mask, which you now knew was called father, in front of you. His face was different from how you had expected it to be. His face was... well, it was crusty. Especially around his eyes and mouth. His lips were split and chapped with a scar crossing over the left side of them. Another scar could be seen over his right eye. Despite all of that, he was surprisingly cute. He was younger than you initially thought, probably only around your age. You found your eyes scanning over him from the little beauty mark that dotted the underside of his mouth, up to the dry skin around his narrowing eyes.

"What?" He somewhat snapped.

"Nothing. Just- Taking in your face before it hides behind that mask again."

Shigaraki scrunched up his brows but decided to ignore your gaze to focus on what he was doing. You had come to know that your boss was quite the gamer and, although he usually played in his room where the rest of you couldn't disturb him, sometimes, when Dabi and Toga were out, he would bring his switch with him and come to sit at the bar. Both you and Kurogiri knew not to distract him. Although, it wasn't so that you wouldn't anger him but simply because you also had a love for games and knew what it was like when someone interrupted your train of thought and cost you your win. So, you kept quiet or went for a walk.

Although, soon you grew to enjoy watching Shigaraki as he played his games and so, you simply sat at the bar a few stalls away to watch him. You liked watching the way his lips would curl into a little smirk every now and then when he knew he was going to win. You also liked it when he lost and scowled at the game, cursing under his breath before unconsciously pouting slightly. Once, he even accidentally destroyed the switch with his quirk mid-game. He was furious and stormed out to get another. You simply chuckled when the door closed behind him and got up to clean the mess. Then, you too headed out because there was something you needed to buy.

"Shiggy." You grinned, approaching your boss with a slight skip in your step.

"What?" He sighed, already used to the shitty nickname you had given him.

"I made you something."

He simply turned his head to you and frowned but, when you held out your present for him, his expression changed into something you hadn't yet seen. Surprise? Shock? Gratefulness? Who knows but it was better than the usual sulky face he showed you.

"It's a pair of gloves. They will only cover your pinkies but it will stop you from disintegrating anything else on accident." You explained, passing him the little gloves you had designed specifically for him.

"I- um, thank you?" He sounded so unsure of his words as if he hadn't a clue how to express gratitude but it made you smile nonetheless.

"You're welcome." You spoke with your usual perky voice.

Before joining the league, you had little reason to smile but now that they had finally grown used to you, you were smiling more often than not. You smiled when you talked to Dabi, Toga and Kurogiri, but it was when you were with Shigaraki that you found yourself smiling the most. He was so strange and so cold but there were times when he unintentionally showed you a soft side of him. Times when he was playing his games and even times when he was talking to you. His eyes would soften or he'd almost smile. It was always a small gesture but it still made you feel all warm and happy.

Even now, as he took the gloves from you, being very careful not to use all of his fingers as he did so, his eyes were soft and his lips curled up ever so slightly.

"I hope the material is okay, I tried to make sure they would be as comfortable as possible."

"Why do all of this? Why go to all the trouble?" He asked whilst slipping the gloves over his pinky fingers and around his wrists.

"Because, boss, we can't have you accidentally disintegrating the whole building now can we?" You joked although it didn't seem that Shigaraki found it all that funny as he just huffed, picked up his new switch, and headed back to his room.

"Don't take it to heart, he doesn't do well with displays of affection." Kurogiri sighed, trying to reassure you that Shigaraki was indeed happy with what you had done for him.

But you already knew that he was. You were good at reading people, even people like him, and you would have known if he was angry with you. You just wondered why he was like this and why he struggled so much to believe that any of you truly cared for him. The league, to him, was just a group of people with the same goal but to the rest fo you, it was almost like a family. Maybe one day he would realise that too.

It had been a long day, in which you, Dabi and Toga had all been out getting into your own little handfuls of trouble. Kurogiri stayed here with Shigaraki while he played his games. When you came back, you decided to find Shiggy and update him on the work the three of you had been doing for the most part of the day. When he wasn't sitting at the bar waiting for you to come back, you sighed and headed in the direction of his room. You hadn't been in there before and you were unsure of how Shigaraki would react if you came in without asking but, you also knew it was highly likely he was playing his games and decided that having him yell at you for coming in was better than having him yell at you for disrupting his game. And so, you turned the handle and walked inside.

Shigaraki was indeed playing video games. There he sat, with his back to you, on the floor in front of his tv with a controller in his hand. Despite wearing the gloves you gave him, he was still playing with each of his pinkies lifted off of the remote, presumably so that he didn't get into the habit of using all his fingers in case he one day forgot while not wearing the gloves. His head turned ever so slightly towards you for a second, although his eyes never once left the screen, but he just ignored you and continued playing.

He was clearly busy with his game so you simply walked further into the room, closing the door behind you, and sat at the end of his bed. You took a quick glance around the room, noticing how it was pretty much bare except for the bed and gaming set up in the corner.

It was a few minutes until Shigaraki said anything, but soon he was wondering why you were even here, "y/n. What do you what? Why are you here?"

"I just want to watch you play for now." You admitted, expecting him to tell you to leave.

But he didn't tell you to go. He just grunted and continued playing his game, so you stayed.

The more you watched him play, the more he fascinated you. His strategy in-game mirrored his intellect in reality too. His fingers tapped away so quickly at the buttons as he hammered in combo after combo, striking the enemy's weak points as if he memorised each and every one of them. Then again you wouldn't expect anything more from him. Shigaraki was a surprisingly intelligent man. He knew what to do and when to do it and, even if his temper would tempt him against it, he always knew when to back out of a fight he couldn't win. When it came to both reality and videogames, however, that was rare. He thought things out well and it seemed he even learned things from the games he played and applied them to real-life situations to provide him with the upper hand.

Shigaraki Tomura really was one of a kind.

A few more minutes passed and you found yourself pulling out your phone and swiping to the camera. You snapped some pictures of  him playing down on the floor in front of you. Then, you rolled onto your side so that you were lying on his bed, hanging off the side a little to get the perfect angle of his face as he played. You snapped more photos before sitting up and looking through them. He looked so cute when he played his games.

Before you realised, however, he had completed his level and was climbing up to walk over to you. He took the phone from your hands and pressed all of his fingers against it, watching it disintegrate into dust before slipping his pinky back into his glove.

You tilted your head up at him and pouted, "Those were some good pictures."

"Why were you taking pictures of me?" Shigaraki sighed, clearly not really in the mood for your shit.

"Because you just look so cute when you're focusing on your games and I wanted some pictures of you." You admitted, not caring for the way his eyes narrowed further.

"But why?"

You sighed and climbed up onto your knees so you were more at face level with him.

"I want pictures of you because I like you, stupid." You confessed, flicking him lightly in the centre of his forehead.

Shigaraki only began to scratch at his neck as his eyes widened slightly in confusion.

"You... like... me?" He questioned, pointing a finger into his chest.

He clearly still didn't get it, or at least he didn't believe you, so you reached out for his shirt, scrunching it in your fists slightly, as you pulled him in for a kiss. He was in such a shock when your lips touched his that he lost his balance and fell onto you. His hands, that were either side of your head, stopped his weight from crashing down into you but he was still lying on top of you nonetheless.

"Do you get it now?" You smiled, reaching up to peck his nose as his cheeks began to dust over with a slight blush.

"I- I."

You smiled and pulled him back down towards you, stopping briefly just before your lips came together again, "Shut up, Shiggy."

[itsclydebitches]

I’m the tin foil hat anon and I wanted to thank you for the response on my bb submission, you make great points. Although I was frustrated that some of them raised even more questions I didn’t think of myself… UGH… lol the S2 wait is gonna be painful

On the point of crosshair thinking his chip was removed a looong time ago(meaning before bracca or even as early as ep1) it wouldn’t make sense bc of his response to Hunter’s “you tried to kill us, we didn’t have a choice”. He says “and I did?”. So he seems to be aware he couldn’t control himself in all their previous encounters. Does it mean he knows his actions were due to chip then?

And you say crosshair avoiding the “when” question can be due to him not caring if the horrible actions he committed are chip or himself and it’s meant to show that he truly is despicable and evil. It could be the case because he shows absolutely no remorse or regret over slaughtering civilians, never apologizes to his brothers for not only trying to kill them but almost successfully incinerating(!!!) them. On top of that (apparently) without a chip he casually murders his own squad without a blink of an eye right in front of them.

On the other hand, he shows care for Omega’s safety in that episode and wants a better place in the universe for his brothers(even if it’s obviously a mistake). He sounds hurt and betrayed by them yet he still wants what he thinks is best for them. He seemed genuine and sincere in that moment. Even after they refused to join he protected them against the droids. He had multiple opportunities to shoot Hunter or others in the back but never did(and looked like didn’t even consider it). BUT after all of that he decides to raise his gun and try to shoot hunter who already has his gun drawn?! And in front of the whole squad holding him at gun point!!! WTF was he thinking?! WHY? I know they rejected his offer but still. Did his reveal completely change his plans? I just don’t understand. I know he is meant to be “complex and nuanced character with layers” but what a mood swing lmao

As much as I loved and enjoyed the bad batch overall I’m beginning to think that all these inconsistencies aren’t meant to be a crafty set up for next season. What they most likely are is just writers being vague on purpose so they don’t write themselves into a corner.

And as to why the batch and Omega didn’t even try to rescue their brother could just be so that Hunter and Crosshair would have this drama and disagreement at the end. Despite brad rau claiming their argument was over ideological differences. And Jen Corbett saying in that same cursed interview that the batch always love and support each other no matter what because they’re family. Well, I guess not crosshair, he doesn’t count anymore lol

And I agree with you I’d rather see the batch acknowledging they could have done more to try and rescue him than go into the chip details. However, I have a suspicion the real reason or explanation on why they never went back for him isn’t going to be brought up ever. Even *in universe* it simply does not make sense. Just makes me sad seeing how many people also try to come up with explanations. That should have been the writers job to provide something besides Hunter’s “you tried to kill us” bc that’s a weak argument and a total bs since he was SHOCKED to learn crosshair doesn’t have a chip.

Btw sorry for the long posts lol I just found your takes very intriguing

The season two wait is something awful and I only just started it lol. No worries about long asks though! My blog has become quite meta heavy over the years, so this is normal for my inbox. Besides, it’s a bit of a pot and kettle situation. It's not like my answers are particularly concise :D

Okay first, I have the unpopular (?) opinion that Crosshair was never planning to shoot Hunter, partly for the reasons you lay out here. You’re right, it doesn’t make sense, and rather than just accepting that he had that kind of “mood swing" (which would be pretty bad writing based on everything else we've seen) I think it does make sense that this was never his intention at all. Rather, it’s just a setup to make the audience think he’s about to shoot Hunter—that’s the obvious goal of that moment: the shock, drama, confusion, and then relief—but that doesn’t mean that in-universe that was ever Crosshair’s goal, even for just a split second. Omega leaves the pod. Echo, crucially, says that he can’t see her, setting up that Crosshair with his enhanced sight is probably the only one who could. He grabs his rifle off screen and as he does, Hunter leans over the side of the pod as he prepares to jump in, precisely where Crosshair needs to aim to hit Omega. Hunter is in his way. He’s directly in the line of fire, not because Crosshair is aiming for him, but just because that's where Omega is and they're both aiming for her: Crosshair with his rifle, Hunter ready to dive. The little shift Crosshair makes reads to me as him ensuring he doesn’t hit Hunter, despite him being right where he needs to aim, not him full on changing targets.

Even if we choose to read it as him deliberately aiming at Hunter—because yeah, the scene is meant to be ambiguous—I don’t think he, like, meant it meant it. Crosshair, as we’ve seen throughout TBB and TCW, can be pretty antagonistic. He likes to do things to get a rise out of people, like staring at regs until they snap at him, or pushing Rex’s buttons until he swings. If he was choosing to aim at Hunter in that moment, rather than Hunter just being in the way, I think it’s only bravado. Remember the “Don’t make the same mistake twice. Don’t make me your enemy” line? Crosshair has a need to remind others of his skill and power—whether it’s playfully like in TCW, or more seriously in TBB—and that’s likely what this is here. “Hey, Hunter. Look. I got my weapon back. I’ve got you cornered. I’m about to save our sister when you can’t. Remember that I’m good and you need me.” Those feelings of abandonment are tied up in that need to be needed, so when Crosshair is seething at being left behind, brutally showing them how he can get a drop on their leader and doing the thing they can't (save Omega) is a great way to remind them of what they threw away/re-boost his own self-esteem. But none of that means shooting Hunter was ever a real possibility. Because nowhere else do we see Crosshair willingly trying to harm his team. He does while under the chip’s influence, but then he never hurts Hunter when he’s captured. He kills his new team before they can hurt the batch. He helps them fight off the droids. There’s a tussle, but it’s not choreographed like either he or Hunter truly intends harm. Crosshair demonstrates no aggression during the entire escape, willingly gives up his weapon after saving Omega, and just stands there as they leave. If this guy actually wanted to hurt them, he would. Which is more likely, that Crosshair had a split second of real murder intent across two episodes of doing everything possible to help his team, or that this was just a mean bluff?

But personally, I don’t even think it was a bluff. I think the coincidence of Crosshair needing to aim there and Hunter already being there is just meant to imply an attack for the audience, not imply that Crosshair, in-universe, ever intended to hurt him, even for just a second. If he had, he wouldn’t look so surprised and sad when he realizes the others are pointing their weapons at him. If he was out to shoot Hunter, even if only for a moment, seeing his brothers come to his defense would be expected; a given. But if he only ever intended to save Omega, then seeing their weapons trained on him would produce the emotions we saw: shock that they’d turn on him and then severe disappointment. From Crosshair’s perspective, he didn’t do anything wrong and never intended to do wrong either. Hence, looking away in disbelief that his need to aim through Hunter was taken as a serious threat. He's realizing that they honestly believe that he would hurt them. Not the chipped version of him, but just him, all on his own.

As for the rest of his characterization, I think your point that “You tried to kill us” is a weak argument is pretty important. Meaning, Crosshair knows he didn’t attack his team and nearly kill them, the Empire controlling him like a puppet did. He (arguably) doesn’t owe them an apology for something that he was as much a victim for. However, we usually expect one anyway—like Wrecker still apologizing to Omega—because that's how people who have hurt loved ones react, whether the hurt was intentional or not, but that guilt is currently overshadowed by his fury that they left him behind. For him I think it’s a bit of a circular problem. Yes, he nearly killed them… but he wouldn’t have nearly killed them if they’d come back and rescued him. With the obvious disclaimer that the Empire is the real evil here, Crosshair as a threat is a bit of a problem of the batch's own making. If they’d done the right thing and gotten him out, there wouldn’t have been these scary moments like the engine incident. If they’d at least tried, then Crosshair likely would have been more guilt-ridden because he hurt his brothers who were trying to help him. As it stands, he tried to hurt the people who claim they're his brothers, but who left him behind. That's why he presents this second chance as magnanimous: from Crosshair's perspective, they haven't done anything to earn his care, but they're getting it anyway. An apology though? That's pushing things too far. If when Wrecker turned the group had locked him somewhere in the ship and gone off planet, leaving him there under the justification “Well, he tried to kill us!" would Wrecker still return with apologies for his actions... or would he be primarily pissed at being left like that, withholding apologies because they did him harm intentionally, whereas he did harm under another's control? I mean, maybe he'd be forgiving (the huge difference between his and Crosshair’s personalities is another factor), but also maybe not. Having Crosshair apologize for the near-death experiences requires 1. For him to feel responsibility for something that was forced on him and 2. For him to not be absolutely furious at the batch for abandoning him. They've gotta work through that before Crosshair can acknowledge that guilt.

Killing his second team on the other hand… idk if the batch cares, honestly. It was the killing of civilians that they balked at, not other fighters like themselves. Even the Jedis’ execution, something they clearly didn’t like, wasn’t enough to turn them from the Empire, presumably because the Jedi are capable of defending themselves. They fell in battle. It’s only when the Empire asks them to kill kids and untrained civilians that they go, “Absolutely not. This organization is evil.” Murder of other fighters was, you know, not great, but not worth defecting over either. Crosshair’s second team is made up of fighters who have been trying to kill them, so they’re definitely fair game. If we removed Crosshair’s plan from the situation and the batch was just fighting their way off Kamino after a capture, would they have also killed the team without a blink of an eye? Probably. It's self-defense. The second they raised their blasters it became a battle and, unless you’re specifically out to stun someone for some reason, battles end bloody. The shock is which side Crosshair was on, not that one side was willing to murder the other. It’s definitely messed up from our perspective that Crosshair laid a trap to murder his team to prove a point… but from the batch’s perspective? Crosshair killed a bunch of imperial fighters who were threatening them during a battle. That’s just an average Tuesday for them, nothing much to get upset over.

And omg don’t get me started on Crosshair wanting to find Omega a family! Like yeah, it’s obviously a #mistake and his faith in the Empire is Super Messed Up but... the underlying motivation is so good. It’s another situation where there’s no easy answer. Which is more important: Omega’s emotional health where she grows up with clones like her, the people who are now 100% her family, or her physical health, where she stays some place where she’s not always getting shot at, kidnapped, at risk of going hungry, etc.? It’s easy as the audience to go, “Of course she belongs with her dads!!” but if you choose to read the story through any realistic lens, Crosshair absolutely has a point about this being terrible environment for a kid, the exact point the batch themselves were making until Omega begged to stay. I love my feral, compassionate child but let me tell you, I YELLED when she yeeted herself out of that pod. This is a traumatized, formerly isolated kid with absolutely zero self-preservation, combined with, at times, a lack of basic common sense that’s inevitable in children (like not realizing she can’t pull a very heavy droid up through the water). As emotionally gutting as the thought is and, in this particular case, a Very Bad Idea, I really can’t fault anyone for raising the possibility that she go somewhere else, somewhere she’s likely to survive into her teens 😅

[justjstuff]

19 for the Salty ask pls? Im ready for dead sea levels of salt

Hiya, Anon-san!! I really hope you're from the KakaSaku fandom because that's what I'm going with here haha Thanks for the ask! <3

Before I answer I want to start by saying that I hope everyone can keep in mind that: These are all my personal opinions and you shouldn't base your worth as a writer/fan on them. What I think has no impact whatsoever in your life and this is just a personal rant about what I think it's right. Also, the fun of fandom is that you get to play with the characters so don't be too hung up on what the fandom is currently thinking Character A should act like. This fandom has been alive for over a decade and opinions changed drastically so stop thinking about what everyone thinks and you do you. In the end, there's always going to be someone who REALLY agrees with you and is glad you said something or wrote said fic and others that will never want to see your name again. That's life.

What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?

r: :x I kinda want to say a lot of things here. I'll start with Weak Sakura. It feels insane to say this when I know we all love her but I see so so sO MANY fics that never take Sakura to her full potential and that makes me a bit mad. Sometimes she's a chunin who still didn't make it to jounin even after she's turned 18, sometimes it's post-war and Sakura is just suddenly very content staying in the hospital while her teammates go out on missions (it seems like everyone forgot that Sakura NEVER had a dream of being a medic? That was actually Tenten's dream to be like Tsunade. Sakura wanted to PROTECT. She wanted to be able to stand alongside her teammates, she didn't want to be a liability... all of that means that she would want to be by their side no? As in... not working as a civilian medic inside the hospital), sometimes it's Sakura being a liability during missions (re: she's a bad liar! she's not strong enough! she can't be trusted with this and that bc she's too emotional!).

Okay, this about characterisation for Sakura. About the fandom as a whole I think we have a very big problem with how... I dunno how to say this in english but like. Oh man, I think we all idolise the old og fics a bit too much. Don't get me wrong, some of them are really really good and I like how back then people weren't scared to go down some routes that aren't safe and sound and everyone's over 21 folks! like there seems to be a trend nowadays. That being said... I think we've got some amazing fics these past five years that don't get nearly enough recognition because people keep focusing on the old works...? I'm not saying we shouldn't hype the og works but instead that we should ALSO hype up the ones being written now, y'know? We've all seen a HUGE decrease in engagement in fic in general so I really hope we can start giving more attention to our community now. Also, I don't like that there are people that only from the fact that I'm criticising this will be annoyed with me or whatever. About the og works, again, I absolutely love that people weren't so clean cut as rn, but I can criticise some of the things written a while ago without having people believe I'm shitting on the og authors or that I don't think they wrote very complex and interesting stories. Y'all, this may shock you but you can make criticism and not "cancel" whatever it is you're criticising.

Moving on to Kakashi. LOL. I know the point of the question was that second paragraph but I genuinely think our fandom is awesome and that's the only thing that kinda makes me go meh. So I'm gonna talk characterisation instead.

So. Kakashi. Listen, I'm all for some fluff from time to time. BUT. Kakashi is Kakashi because of his trauma. I get that some people want to give him a soft and happy ending but I really don't like reading a Kakashi that isn't impacted by his trauma. As in, canon Kakashi that is really sweet and a total dork and suddenly wants a big happy family and a perfectly happy ending. Nah, I can't read it. (which isn't to say that people can't write it, pls note the difference). I think Kakashi has many many facets to his personality, in the end, and it gets on my nerves when I only get to see one. Like, I know deep down what Kakashi wants or needs is to form deep connections but I don't want to see him just like that. I know that he can be a dork and playful, but I don't want to see him like that all the time bc he's also very diligent and serious. I know he must have been terrifying to thrive in ANBU for a decade but I don't want to see him being like that for a whole fic. Ya feel me? I want him to be like a real person and have faults and make mistakes and change his mind and all that.