so we all know about “who the hell is jordie?” “someone i trusted. someone i couldn’t afford to lose”, right, but what we forget is the significance of kaz calling jesper ‘jordie’. it’s not just that jesper is a brother to him- jordie was kaz’s protector. jordie was the 13 year old that protected kaz and who kaz protected, the goofy one who made him smile and bought him hot chocolate at night. he felt safe around him. he trusted jordie with his life. in calling jesper ‘jordie’, kaz shows that subconsciously, he trusts jesper to protect him, that he could turn to him should he need it. and every time he yells at jesper, the gambler who couldn’t stay out of the red, for losing another bet, getting in debt again, all he can see is that same thirteen-year-old boy, swindled out of everything he owned and left for dead on the street. with every word he yells at jesper, he silently urges him to stay alive. with every bet jesper makes, all kaz can think is “i can’t lose a brother. not again.”
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I decided to reread The Hunger Games trilogy and I gotta say this trend of absolutely hating Gale and calling him a war criminal and selfish is such a miss.
Gale is by no means a perfect person. But none of the characters are. They all do bad or questionable things. They’re literally in the middle of a war. Even before it’s officially a war.
Yes Gale was jealous of Peeta and Katniss. Yes, there were significantly more important things going on. Gale knew that, he acknowledged that. But end of the day he’s still a teenager with emotions. Just like Peeta and Katniss who both also describe being jealous of Gale - Madge - Joanna. They also know it’s dumb given all the danger and death surrounding them. But surprisingly people still have emotions like love and jealousy during wartime - including teenagers.
As for the war criminal comments that’s a whole long discussion but let’s remember this is a world in which the government has been slaughtering children for entertainment and forcing all the districts that send their kids to watch them be murdered for the entirety of the main trios lives and long before them - it is all they have ever known.
Additionally, year round the capital treats the citizens like slaves and makes them produce whatever is necessary for the capital and then let’s them live in squalor starving to death. This is how Gale grew up. He was the oldest of 4 kids. His dad died when he was a kid and he was responsible for taking care of his mom and all his siblings. He had his name in the bowl for the reaping probably more than almost any boy in 12.
He watched his district and the men women and children he knew his whole life be burned alive while he had to lead as many to safety as he could. He watched his best friend be shoved into the hunger games twice knowing not only that he might lose her forever but that he would have 2 more people to care for and soon he would be forced into the mines full time with little opportunity to hunt.
So when a war breaks out to finally stop the abuses and murders by the capital of course Gale jumps in. Of course he plans to kill. It’s a war. And it’s nice to try and be a pacifist and say give peace a chance but how can you say that to your oppressors and expect anything to change. There had to be a war and there had to be death. Gale fought in the front lines and was willing to die to save his family and free the districts. It’s curious we never hear anyone call Beetee a war criminal when he made more weapons than anyone. Almost like it’s not the fact the Gale made weapons during a war, but that it was Gale.
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Forgot to mention awhile ago I started Big O-ITS GOOD-and this is something that hasn’t been touched on yet but is that the robot is sentient, which got me thinking about why this aspect is appealing to me in mecha context pasts “already preferring robots with sentience to begin with”.
There is something both intriguing and horrifying about the idea this giant man made machine your piloting that cannot speak at all is still technically aware. It doesn’t have a free will per-say as it needs you, its pilot, to operate it, to make it move and fight, but it still has its own thoughts and feelings. And whether or not this sentience means anything to humanity-if it freaks out other people, if it means anything for the general scale of evolution and the future as technology continues to grow-you still have the duty to pilot this robot because there’s no other way to eliminate the enemies, and only you can do it. Even if you didn’t choose to, the robot needs you as much as you need it.
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Wellll thought id post a little snippet of a oneshot i was gonna write
It felt like betrayal, some part of him thought as he stumbled into his apartment.
It felt like betrayal and abandonment. It left a bitter taste in his mouth alongside the gunmetal, coppery taste of blood clinging to his teeth and coating his tongue. He clumsily swiped his helmet off with one hand, casting it to the ground somewhere off to the side, as the other hand clutched his side in a desperate bid to keep himself from bleeding out (not that it was working particularly well).
His helmet was beyond repair at this point; the visor so cracked he could hardly see out of it and the hard, protective plastic dented, chipping, and pieces falling out. It couldn’t connect to anyone; the comms just echoing static. The rest of his gear was just as useless; one of his guns was missing, the other jammed and essentially unusable at the moment. His grapple was missing a hook and the mechanism stripped so bad it couldn’t pull him anywhere. Out of batarangs and flashbangs and grenades and hidden knives. Really, if someone wanted to take him out at this exact moment, all he had left to defend himself was his own body, and that was in shit condition. So, he dragged himself to the couch beside the fire escape he had crawled from, and fell across it with an oomph, and settled in.
To die.
Again.
Maybe he would come back again. Maybe, this time, he would be gone for good. He couldn’t tell which one he would prefer. He’s not so sure he should think too hard about it. He’s not sure he would like the answer.
The point is: it felt like abandonment and betrayal. Betrayal and abandonment. It felt like something that left a bitter taste in his mouth and he wished it would go away (because he wants to die in peace, goddamnit) because he didn’t want to die hating everything and everyone (he didn’t want to die hating Bruce, hating dad, but it felt like the man really hadn’t left him a choice).
He was tired. Tired of being angry, tired of fighting (his family, that was, because that’s what they were, even if they didn’t think so), tired of hoping and wishing and regretting.
Maybe, if they had had a little more time, things would have worked out. (He would have made up with Bruce and hung out with Dick and asked Alfred to teach him to cook. He would have had a father and a brother and a grandfather.) But they hadn’t.
He had lain there, on the dirt coated floor of a warehouse in the middle of nowhere, wishing. Wishing more desperately than he’d ever wished for anything in his whole life. Wishing for Bruce. Wishing that he would appear. Wishing that he would swoop in from above and take him away. Wishing that he would save him and bring him home (he was sorry; he never should have left).
Coughing and choking and twitching with a madman standing over him, laughing and laughing and laughing. Laughing as he stared him in the eyes. Laughing as he raised his arms above his head. Laughing as a crowbar smashed into his sides, his face, his head. Laughing as his mother (not his mother) sold him away for a pittance.
No, it wasn’t wishing. It was believing; it was knowing he would come. Knowing that Batman, that Bruce, that his father, would save him.
He never came.
He had died alone, and in pain, and so, so afraid.
He thinks, some days, that something in him died that day; something had been irreparably damaged that night, broken beyond repair.
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