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bakugoushotwife · 7 months

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kinktober day twenty-six: bondage kink

>>> yeah i got filthy with this one tbh and i've never written for daddy aizawa before! i hope we enjoy this natstiness.

>>> starring: shouta aizawa x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: kinda darkish, yandere-ish like behavior from aizawa, bondage with the scarf, choking, degradation, slight angst, mc hurt and recovery, slight breeding/baby-trapping, edging, orgasm ruining, one daddy lol >>> wc: 3.2k >>> event masterlist:

this is exactly why he kept working as an underground hero. maybe if you would have listened to him and followed his lead, then he might not regret his own choice. you were popular. way more popular than you should be for the eighth ranked pro-hero, but shouta knew why. you’re the country’s sweetheart, gorgeous and funny–perfect with the press and paparazzi, so sweet to fans but oh so brutal to villains. you were the commission’s people’s princess, and he couldn’t stand it.

shouta isn’t a jealous type. he didn’t yearn to be in your shoes, after all you were constantly complaining to him about all the photoshoots and pressers and all the key-to-the-city ceremonies you had to attend. it seems like less and less of your schedule was actual hero work and the rest of it was reserved for the flashier side of the business. he didn’t wish to trade places at all. because he stayed underground—people only knew him as eraserhead, nothing about his private life—including his long-term relationship with everyone’s favorite number eight pro. he just got to go about his business, taking down his assignments without any showmanship required. he just got to keep his head down and eliminate bad guys, all before coming home to you at night.

and sure, you were ogled. talk show hosts, interviewers, your own fanbase, and even other heroes had their fair share of tries at you, but aizawa never feared. you always gave them the same apologetic grin, informing them that you weren’t single and never would be again. of course, people pry about your love life. you never betrayed shouta’s wish for privacy, always swearing that your beau was none of their concern—your hero work should speak for itself. shouta was always proud of you and the way you handled things. you were just and fair, a strong hero with good morals and you were simply unafraid of speaking your mind. if not for the…sigh, corrupt, hero society that we were currently operating under, things would be perfect.

but this was not a perfect world, and he knew that all too well. he’s watched you and other colleagues take on mismatched quirks or scenarios without enough information. it’s a tale as old as time. they make a martyr out of a low-ranking hero just to remind the rest of society how bad villains really were, like they weren’t the biggest villains out there. as badly as aizawa hated your publicity and stardom, he had hoped that it would keep you safe. you garnered so much attention and popularity for the heroes. there was no way they would put you at risk.

so the day the word reached his base, he thought he was having a nightmare. it was only when he turned on the news that his worst fears were confirmed. the camera had the perfect shot of you laying in the rubble, face scraped and bloody—unmoving. the banner below the frame read, “breaking: number eight hero taken down in shinjuku city! villain slaughtered by the brave hero; backup on the way!”

taken down? what exactly does that mean? were you dead? did they actually take you from him—all without anyone knowing how much you mean to him, how much he loves you? his face falls, and he realizes that staying underground may have been the wrong move. would they have killed him instead? would he have been there with you then, to at least keep you safe? his head is full of questions that he can’t find answers to by standing in the middle of his hq. no one understands why eraserhead looks so pale as he navigates to the tokyo hospital, though a few have sneaking suspicions as they watch your body loaded into an ambulance.

he’s there before you are, waiting to hear any news in the lobby alongside your sidekicks and work study students. he recognized a few of them as students of his own, and it made him sick all over again. why did he allow this? why didn’t he make you take underground work? why couldn’t he follow you if nothing else, becoming a part-time hero while you took on villains way out of your league. if you had someone like him with you, you wouldn’t have ever gotten hurt.

he can’t forgive himself as he looks at you hooked up to machines reading off just how close you were to death. it took you days to wake up, weeks to get out of the hospital on your own accord. shouta was there every step of the way, taking it on himself to ensure you made a full recovery. not because he would willingly let you back into this fucked set up, but because he needed you to be okay. he would never be able to forgive himself if you suffered permanent damages from this fight.

luckily, or maybe unluckily so, the love of his life is a fighter. you make physical therapy a breeze, taking strides ahead of the curve and getting back to your new normal with the help of some rest and the loving care of your boyfriend. shouta seldom left your side, though he kept hinting at a change in your professional life once your progress proves that you’re ready to put the suit back on.

“follow you underground? shouta, honey i’m the number eight. everyone’s waiting for me!” you try to reason with him. you knew it had to be hard on him to watch you at your lowest. you can’t imagine how terrified you would be if the situation was reversed, and you were the one nursing him back to health. you’d never be able to take your eyes off him again—so how can you expect him to abandon this?

“yeah i know, waiting for your return, all heroes will rally behind you and go on another villain elimination crusade.” he drawls rather annoyed. you were supposed to go back to work today–shouta’s many chides not doing the trick until he finally demanded you to stay home this morning. here you stood in your spandex suit, ready to throw your life on the line without any thought or hesitation even after you were almost killed. it makes him sick with worry. you’re brainwashed.

you bat your eyes at him, folding your arms over your chest. he watches you with a ticked brow, lazy half-lidded eyes waiting for your response. “is that supposed to be a bad thing?”

he angrily rubs at the stubble on his cheek. “yes–what actually ever comes of this? why do so many heroes die like this every year, just like you–set up to fail? you managed to escape with your life this time. but they’ll make a cause out of you, too. i cannot allow that.” he mirrors your posture, and you narrow your eyes at him this time.

“i killed that villain.” you huff indignantly. “and i’m fine, shouta. don’t pretend i am fragile.” you cock your head at him. he scoffs, looking down his nose at you.

“you are. i didn’t realize it before, but you almost died due to my overconfidence in you.” he deadpans, images of you bloody and broken flashing in his mind. “i won’t make that mistake again. beat me, and you can leave.”

it’s your turn to scoff. “excuse me? i am not fighting you, shouta—everyone gets hurt from time to time that is hardly a reason to lose faith in my abilities.” his scarf wraps around your wrist. you look at the tie and look back at him, raising and indignant brow. “really? you’re gonna play this card?”

you activate your quirk in an effort to escape his binds, purposefully moving quickly to beat your lover’s quirk. after years of being together and learning how to fight effectively against the other, you’ve learned how to avoid it—but he stays three steps ahead. his scarf keeps you from running out of view, and your quirk is gone before you can do much else but yank against his hold on your wrist. his black hair floats and his lazy eyes turn red as you roll your own. you try to throw a punch his way, your only way to win now was to make him blink. his scarf fully unravels to take you on though, catching your other wrist and tying them together in front of you.

“shouta.” you say sternly, heart racing as he proved you wrong. you couldn’t even beat someone you have battle experience on with a soft spot for you—there was no way you were ready for patrols with the possibility of engaging in battle again. you were hoping the call of his name would be enough to buy you some time, but based on the way his brow arches and he steps forward–you know he won’t be giving you any.

“you lost. i could do anything with you right now.” he pushes you back toward the bed, keeping his hold on the binds taut. “and you know me. but now you’re under my control. you know you aren’t ready.” he looks down at your form sitting on the bed, unable to fight him—unable to get away. “what would happen if i was your enemy, hm? tell me, darling. you would be finished. i could have my way with you and you couldn’t do anything to stoop it.” he tugs on the fabric around your wrists.

something about the way he says that has your bratty side kicking up like the tingling in your veins. “yeah? i’d like to see you try.” you pull back on the scarf, and he gives you a lopsided smirk. his free hand grabs your chin, lowering his face to yours.

“you have no idea what you just asked for.” he nods, smashing his lips on yours. your eyes fall closed, and you imagine he does the same based on the energy restored in your veins. you wouldn’t dare fight him now, however. shouta was right. you had no business going back to work yet, and if he got it his way, you wouldn’t return to that line of work at all. you were too precious to him and this incident was a wake up call. you are his whole life, the one thing that gives him unending happiness even on bad days. he wants to marry you—to build a life with you, and he can’t do that if you’re convinced you actually matter to this hero society. he can’t do that if villains take you from him. so if he has to embrace his inner bad guy for your greater good, then so be it. twist his arm.

his thin lips slot perfectly against yours, possessive and all-consuming like the heat that takes over your body from the touch. his stubbly chin collides with yours as his fingers search for your bundle through your skin-tight hero suit. it was annoyingly easy to find considering how the fabric clings to your every dip, and your head falls back as soon as he starts rubbing over it. he chuckles at how easy you are, though he knows that’s because of him. another benefit of the entire world wanting his girlfriend—they could want to their heart’s content. he got the real thing, and goddamn if you weren’t addicted to him, giving him free reign with you in moments like these. though this time it was borderline dangerous. you were letting him treat you like a villain after months of being without you as you rehabilitated. but as you kiss, he realizes he’s being too loving to teach you a lesson so serious. he pulls away, shoving you by the chin.

“you know what villains do with hero sluts?” he asks, his gravelly voice low and almost bored sounding juxtaposed against what he was actually saying as he circles around to your back. the tone goes straight to your core, and you have to bite on your lip to keep from responding. he pops the zipper on your uniform, dragging the pathetic excuse of armor down your body. he rearranges his scarf’s hold on you to get the annoying garment off you completely. you squirm at the air on your skin and the scarf wrapping around your neck—pulling your hands back together—over your head this time. it’s tight enough that you know struggling will get you nowhere, but he’s careful. “especially the weak ones, the pretty ones?”

you shake your head as if you don’t know where he’s going with the demonstration. he shoves your legs apart, replacing his fingertips on your now bare glistening pearl. “they make them villain toys instead, and you would be the most prized one.” he grumbles at you, watching the pinch of your brow as he rubs you expertly. “they’d play with you for hours, see what all your pretty cunt handle.” he hums, sliding around the mess you’re making. once his fingers are coated in your slick, he shoves three of them inside brutally. you scream out at the burn, writhing as his bony fingers curl into your spot so crudely you were seeing colors that didn’t have names. he tugs a little at the cloth around your neck, making you gasp at the slight squeeze. it’s all such a delicious combination, and your hips are still free to grind down on his perfectly angled digits. your pretty chest heaves as your orgasm rapidly approaches. “shouta–”

“they certainly wouldn’t let you cum.” he removes his fingers from you with a nasty little squelch. you whine at the loss, struggling against your binds in an effort to pull him closer. he licks the essence of you off his fingers, humming in approval. it drives you crazy how relaxed he looks, like edging you was just his average wednesday afternoon, but perhaps that was part of your lesson. besides, the crinkle of fondness by his eyes tells you that this is only done out of your best interest. he knows you arms must be getting tired, but he couldn’t risk not running you ragged. he pushes your thighs apart again, deciding the best way to exhaust you was with his cock. he shrugs his pants down his thighs, pumping his length in preparation for you. he was well endowed—certainly enough to punish you with. you shiver at the sound of his belt clinking against the button of his pants, waiting for the feeling of his hot thick length parting your walls. he was so weighty, curved just to abuse the spots he needs to reach. he’s well trimmed and pale like the rest of his lean form, his leaking slit betraying his cool appearance. he looks up at you with disdain, clearly still annoyed that he had to tame you like this anyway. he’d much rather let you free, letting you touch and enjoy him just as he does to you, but it it seems you’re more stubborn than he thought.

he shoves your legs up to your ears, giving you all of his length without pause or warning. “they’d never be careful” he grunts, squeezing the back of your plush thighs at the same time you vice grip his dick. his scarf tightens around your neck, finally constricting some of your air as he pulls out, sending you reeling when he plunges back into the hilt, repeating this and tightening his scarf every time. you moan out embarrassingly loud. in a way, you had already agreed to your partner’s wishes by letting him have his way with you, as he put it earlier. he knew this too of course, as he certainly couldn’t treat you any real way a villain would, and he knows you would love this far too much to consider it a lesson by any means.

not like he’s complaining, though this is more work than he would regularly like to put in, it sure is worth it to see your tongue loll out of your mouth and eyes roll back behind those pretty lids. he finally sets a steady pace, rocking into you evenly with an extra shove at the end to kiss your cervix. the squeeze on your throat was so stimulating, giving your head just the right amount of dizziness—his cock strokes your walls in such a mouthwatering way you know you won’t even be able to warn him about your orgasm this time. he’s smart enough to know it’s coming with the way your pussy flutters around him, little whines tumbling from your lips like a promise that you’d never leave the safety of this house again. he lets you tumble off the edge this time, watching your legs jump once before removing himself from you completely, letting his scarf wrap back around him for a brief moment. you cry out at the ruined orgasm, staring at him with contempt. he smiles in amusement.

“oh, you’re mistaken. weak little heroes like you are in no position to give such attitude.” he shakes his head in disappointment, his scarf descending again to roll you over and take your wrists behind your back. you have no choice but to bury your cheek in the bed as shouta positions your hips where he wanted them. you squeal out when he plows back in, the angling has your toes curling and mouth drooling. “at least this hero slut has good pussy.” he drawls, giving your ass a light spank. “probably the only thing that would keep you alive out there.” he groans as you clamp down on him again, making him grin. you clearly enjoy his dirty talk–evident by your slutty moans and spasming cunt. “think you should finally get to cum, little hero?”

you nod rapidly, whimpering loud. “please daddy, wanna stay your hero whore~” you say so sweetly that even a man as detached as shouta aizawa couldn’t deny you when he’s supposed to be the bad guy. he nods, letting your arms go.

“then do it, show me what a slut i have. maybe i’ll breed her and make her stay home.” he grunts, feeling you clench him and yell out for the last time. your vision burns white as you let yourself sink into the overwhelming ocean of pleasure that’s been denied to you for so long hitting you all at once. you sputter out whines and moans, giving his cock a pretty ring of your creamy release. his head falls back at the sight, black hair sticking to the sweat he’s worked up. he can’t hold it off any longer, pelvis still against your ass as he empties his load, balls drawing up to give you everything. you nod contently, feeling the warmth seep through your core. his scarf withdraws completely—not before pulling your hair to one side so he could see your blissed out face.

“don’t go back to work.” he pants, feeling up the curve of your back as he softens inside you. “can’t get that close again.” he nods, finding your eyes. you sigh softly, rolling to your back as he gets something to clean you up with.

“guess i gotta since you’re burying loads in me now.” you snicker, and he holds the towel out of reach to tease you, expression bored—though one corner of his mouth creeps up. he hopes it takes, nothing would distract you from your lack of career like a new one.

#kylee's kinktober event #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kyleewritesmha #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa sensei #aizawa smut #shouta aizawa smut

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viridianevergarden · 2 months

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Reading comprehension and critical thinking has really gone out the window hasn’t it? At least in a portion of the fandom.

People are forever stuck under the presumption that Az feels pure lust for Elain and nothing more. That lust suddenly doesn’t go hand in hand with love? That Az is mentally fucked up and should get therapy yet no one else in the IC should? That Az is wrong for naturally shifting his feelings of love from one person to another? That he’s wrong because he didn’t “take a break”? That because of these, Az doesn’t deserve to have love and to love in general?

People are also forever stuck under the presumption that these characters are oh so evil and shouldn’t deserve love at the same time? Take Rhys for a popular example. (When it’s a book series about the ‘villain’ getting the girl. The math isn’t mathing. He’s not even a real, true villain).

No character in ACOTAR is meant to be a saint, I thought everyone knew that. (Oh my god! Morally grey characters when they do morally grey things, shocking😧)

I find most Azriel antis are literally just people who can’t put two and two together. Or just don’t like him for whatever reason they may have. (Everyone has their opinions, yes). But my god, the shallow interpretation and failure to understand his character annoys me ngl. He’s a complex character but he’s not a damn mathematical equation. (He is complex yet linear.)

“He only thought about sex in the bonus chapter.”

As if Elain also wasn’t aroused too? And gave him permission? (Omg, mutual consent! Blasphemy!)

But also the fact that they disregard Az’s noticeable and careful attention to Elain that he has shown throughout the entire series? They disregard purposefully romanticized moments?

“What happened with Elain?”

“What about Elain?”

“I’m getting her back.”

“I can imagine.”

“Would you like me to show you the garden?”

“There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.”

“This is Truth-teller.”

Shadows gathered around the room like snakes preparing to strike.

“Sit. I’ll take care of it.”

“Wait until everyone is seated before eating.”

“We need to get these chains off her.”

Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring [Elain]…

“She doesn’t need anything.”

“The Cauldron made you a Seer.”

“Happy Solstice.”

Staying up with her til 3 am, talking about her gardening plans.

The kiss on the cheek.

“Beautiful.”

Countless times of him gently carrying her around.

Him constantly looking out at her garden.

Him spending actual effort to get her a thoughtful gift for solstice.

Facing death itself to get her back immediately by himself.

A laugh so deep and joyous.

Looking at that headache powder every night for over a year without ever using it.

The absence of his shadows in her presence.

“His secret to tell, never hers.”

Need I go on? Azriel is always hyper focused on Elain. Always. If it weren’t for him, Elain would probably be dead or in more trouble than she ever would have been before.

If all Azriel cared about was slipping under Elain’s dress, why did he attend to her so? Why is he hyper aware of her? Why is he so assertive with her needs over anyone else? Even over Nesta? Why would he feel the need to defend her against Nesta, her own sister, if it called for it? Why does he respect her and Lucien’s boundary by refusing to have eyes on Lucien for the sake of their privacy? Why was he the only one to show initiative over anyone else to get Elain back to safety now rather than later, by himself, even if it meant certain death?

But yeah, all he wants is her body. Right? Yeah, that makes sense…

I’m just saying. No main SJM character would ever go through so much effort just to bed another character. Thats not SJM’s style nor is it logical in the slightest.

But oh yes, he feels entitled to her and her body…

…Entitled?

Wrong E word.

Envy ≠ Entitlement.

Feeling Envious of the love that his brothers have? Of the bonds they have with the other sisters? Yet he’s the only one left all by his lonesome? He feels left out. Third wheeled. And rationally so. He’s happy for his brothers but envious all the same. (As if Cassian didn’t feel the same but no one said shit about him did they?)

I’ve said this in another post too but he is NOT looking at Elain and going “she should be mine.”

He doesn’t even think he deserves her for freaks sake.

Rhys doesn’t really know Azriel. Cassian doesn’t really know Azriel. No one truly knows Azriel. The only one who has truly understood some semblance of Azriel is Elain. Even when his heart and feelings are so incredibly gated off from everyone.

So that word —entitlement— that people keep throwing around from Rhys’ lips is completely misguided.

The sheer mischaracterization makes me see red 💀

But back to the point, with obvious and mutual romantic feelings, being horny is normal. (This is also an adult romantasy series, shocking that there’s sexual content).

I’ll die on that hill for Az and Elain.

I don’t get how it can be this hard, but maybe it’s just me.

#acotar #elriel #I apologize for this rant post #pro azriel #pro elriel #It really shouldn’t be this difficult #it’s not rocket science #i thought it was obvious #what if the cauldron was wrong #Azriel is quite a linear character actually

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shibaraki · 1 year

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OUR MOURNING GLORY ┊ TODOROKI TOUYA

synopsis: everything born in his body will eventually outgrow it. his love for you should be no different.

tags: GN reader, hanahaki au, strangers to friends to lovers, falling in love, requited unrequited feelings, quirkless reader, villain dabi, vomiting, hanahaki as a chronic illness, quirkless discrimination, lack of self worth, hurt + comfort, mild body horror, morally ambiguous reader, first kisses, very hopeful ending (<- I prommy lol)

wc: 5.4K

A/N: now with lovely cover art from momo! thank you so much!

Dabi really fucking hates doctors, has since he was a kid.

They’re too sterile. The strong antiseptic smell burned his sinuses and being surrounded by entirely white walls set him on edge. As though he had been deposited into a liminal space where time does not exist. A cacophony of suffering, incessant beeping, wheels rolling on old gurneys, echoed footsteps, all coalescing into prickly white noise.

Finding a place that would actually treat him was a hell in and of itself. Bigger hospitals and university medical centres weren’t viable options, given how beefed up security usually was. Seedy back-alley places existed in the areas he liked to haunt, but even the thought of stepping foot into one gave him sepsis.

Quirkless clinics were rare. Most that existed ran out of funding— the government saw no reason to care for a dying species. If you didn’t have a quirk then you had it bad. Citizens were legally required to have it listed under a disability on their medical records, and it wasn’t uncommon for people to be turned away in the emergency room because of it.

Dabi almost walked away that first night. As bad of a guy as he is, there was something inherently wrong about infringing on space that did not belong to him. But you had stepped out into the street for a break, jacket pulled close to your chest, took one look at the blood dried to his cheeks and rallied him inside.

He finds himself back here again, for the nth time. Today makes it an entire year since he met you, and ten full months since he coughed up that first bud. A mild inconvenience turned into an invasive bloom.

“…Hanahaki is a serious disease. It is a condition where vine-like buildup in your airways forms into buds, eventually flowering into…”

Morning glories. Buds of deep-blue, trumpet-shaped blossoms and leafy stems. The delicate petals taste surprisingly bitter, with a bite that lingers in the fissures between his molars after it has been ground into thin paste and swallowed. He had long since gotten used to the astringency— drying his throat, twisting his stomach.

“…At best it causes severe breathing difficulties and discomfort. Worst case scenario, it can be fatal…”

In the beginning he thought it would pass. Dabi has endured sickness all his life and a cough wasn’t about to stop his long laid plans. But it worsened, mutated into something he could not control. He remembers sitting in your bathroom on the toilet lid, the little blue burgeon rolling in the shallow of his palm. It’d been covered in bloody mucus, but still a pip, still harmless.

Any sane person might have been afraid at that moment, realising what fate awaited them. Dabi, however, felt oddly resigned. One in one hundred million. Of course this would happen to him. Death clung to him everywhere he went.

“Dabi, are you listening?”

Doctor Tereda had been the one to stitch him up back then. A quack with a near useless cell activation quirk and glasses lenses thick enough for a bullet to bounce off. You’d dragged him into her office, sat him on the bed with surprising strength, and she attended to him no questions asked.

Dabi tried not to make a habit of visiting one place too often, but between your pleading eyes and his rapidly worsening health, he ended up back in her office more times than he cared to.

He makes a noncommittal sound.

“As a medical professional I must strongly advise you to talk to the individual these feelings have bloomed for,” Terada says. Dabi does not like the sympathetic pinch in her brow. “That is the least invasive option”.

Prying open his chest and baring himself to you seems pretty damn invasive. “Not happening,” he mutters airily.

There’s a sense of satisfaction when her frown strains with frustration. Her glasses slip down the bridge of her nose. “Your case is incredibly advanced. It may be your only chance to tell—”

“You got something wrong with your ears?” he interrupts. The stitches beneath his eyes sting, pulled taut by his glare. “I said no”.

Tereda sighs and turns to her screen, pushing her frames back up. The keyboard clicks under her fingers. Every computer here was ancient, their systems totally outdated, but they made do.

“You have two more options. The best results are produced if both treatments are done together,” she explains. “First is surgery. You’ll be put under general anaesthesia and the disease will be removed along with some surrounding tissue in the lungs for biopsy. Memories of the loved one are usually lost”.

Dabi slouched to feign disinterest, betrayed by the restless bounce of his knee, “And?”

“Your second option is to attend an interpersonal psychotherapy programme,” she lifts her hand to silence him before he can interject. “This is highly recommended to patients after surgery to prevent relapse. But you can do it regardless, as it is helpful in reducing your symptoms, and while the disease becomes chronic, it is more manageable”.

Dabi’s jaw shifts as he grits his teeth, pulling at the staples by his mouth, “Calling me fucking crazy now, eh Doc?”

“No,” she replies cooly, schooling her features into something kinder. “As people we underestimate the influence our mental well being has over our physical condition. Hanahaki disease is rare, yes. But over a quarter of all cases are found to be psychosomatic”.

Dabi laughs dryly and brings a fist down hard, smoke squeezed from between his knuckles marred the desk with black. “So this is of my own making, is that what you’re saying?”

“This isn’t something you plant into yourself, Dabi. It isn’t your fault and I could be completely wrong. I’m not all knowing, I’m just a doctor,” a smooth hand is placed over top of his own in effort to comfort, “But torturing yourself will only feed it”.

He scrambles to his feet, the chair legs scraping piercingly across the tile, and snatches his fist back to hold behind his back. The doctor levels him with a sad, soft look, her upper body still leaned across the table.

“If you leave this as it is it will only hurt you. It is already hurting you,” Tereda continues critically. “We can mitigate this, Dabi. Before it kills you”.

That unearths some ill-gotten memory from the recesses of his brain. A film strip he replays often in solitude; the day Endeavor sat him down and told him he shouldn’t use his quirk anymore. At first it was a fatherly suggestion, unnaturally low and soft. “You should stop. It’s hurting you, Touya,” as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

That never made sense to him. In training they used to focus on fire, usually— on intensifying his flame power— but on occasion they would spar. Between poor footing and wrong steps, Endeavour always reprimanded tears and quick surrender.

“But it hurts…”

“Strong heroes fight through pain,” he said. “The world does not stop just because you are crying. Get up! Or are you weak?”

Touya took it to heart, back then. Clenched his chubby little fists tight and got to his feet with a wobbly snarl on his damp, swollen face.

Young minds are impressionable and his own had already been moulded by the very hands on his shoulders. Endeavour’s fingers had held on tight, dwarfing Touya’s frame; heat soaking through his shirt from those searing palms and the sting of old wounds had been enough to keep him grounded in reality. You should stop this. It’s hurting you.

Those words festered and ate away at his soul like an infection. Giving up was against everything he knew— and against everything Endeavor told him a hero should be. It was not an option he was willing to take, and so Touya trudged forward, just as he was taught.

Eventually Endeavour’s words evolved into demand. He became furious. Touya became accustomed to long sleeves and learned how to treat burns alone. Hands made for saving left oval shaped bruises and finger painted the entire family.

How do you abandon something stitched into the very fabric of your being? Being the Number One hero was his hereditary purpose. His father gave up on him so readily but Touya would have rather died than surrender when it got tough. Giving it up would be dying all the same.

Pain was a toll necessary for growth. He grew until his ambition and greed swallowed him whole. And now, there was you. A garden of weeds in his lungs. You were rooted into the capillaries and harvesting his yearning. Every time he coughed it felt like self immolation; a cruel cycle he can not stop repeating.

Hanahaki discriminates. It happens to those who feel deeply, people whose hearts are hemmed by the ones they love. Dabi is selfish but more than that he is lonely, and you’re the one good thing he has in this shit hole.

Accepting the surgery would just be another loss. A surrender. It wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things; Dabi is going to die either way. A walking corpse. Skin, esophagus, tear ducts, tissue— his fire burns all of it. Deep within him, eating away at his soft insides like dry grass. And what withstands that heat are the seeds you have unknowingly sown.

There is something disturbingly satisfying about carrying a piece of you to the grave with him, flowers proliferating around the earth that houses him. Call him twisted. It isn’t as if he’s unaware he’s got a few loose screws— he also has no desire to get better.

The silence is broken by the quiet scratch of pen to paper. Doctor Tereda offers a thin smile and slides a prescription across the table, signed and ready to be collected. “Here. This should help with the pain for at least a week or two. We know how easily you burn through medication so… don’t take too long to make your decision,” she hesitates before shaking her head. “And go to the emergency room if your breathing worsens”.

Dabi eyes her suspiciously, grabbing the slip and shoving it into his coat pocket. Worrying at his lower lip he offers her a short nod, the ‘thanks’ implied.

As he turns and makes his way toward the door, Dabi pauses just before turning the handle. He doesn’t look back as he mutters, “Keep this to yourself, yeah? That means no putting it on my records”.

Tereda hums curiously, “No one else has access to your records”.

He scoffed, turning his wrist and pulling the old door to demonstrate his point; a groan reverberates throughout the room as it opens, “Yeah right. This is hardly a fine establishment”.

“I resent that!”

Dabi strides through the familiar corridor toward the waiting room, ignoring Tereda’s indignant shout. He wasn’t off the mark about how shoddy the place is— atleast, in comparison to other medical centres. The building is small and narrow. It was built during the pre quirk era and handed off to the quirkless by the government to honour their status. The whole thing stank of ridicule and it pissed him off the more he thought about it.

You’re exactly where he expects you to be. Sitting pretty at your desk, twiddling your thumbs, keeping watch over the empty space and quietly mumbling some melody from Mount Lady’s latest hair care advert over the unremitting whirr of the fan above.

A laugh bubbles in his chest, drawing your attention, and it chokes him in effort to smother the sound. You are alarmingly predictable. There, plain as day on your computer screen, are his supposedly secure medical records.

Dabi pressed the heel of his hand to his sternum as he violently coughed. You’re talking to him now, on your feet and rubbing along his back. A viscous lump of petals forces its way into his throat and he feels his quirk react. Still, you don’t pull away.

“Deep breath,” God, that’d be nice. “You’re okay. I’ll get you some water,” Don't go.

You stop and let him drag you back by the wrist. He rights himself on his feet and forces the flowers down. “I’m—” bile stings the back of his mouth and he gags, turning his face into his coat collar to hide a grimace.

Dabi exhales and it sounds so thin. “Fuck. I’m fine. Don’t start,” he croaks, hardly convincing. Rooting through his pocket, he shoves his prescription slip forward to distract you, the paper crumpled into a small ball. “Doc gave me a prescription. It’s just a chest infection”.

He lingers and observes as you unwrinkle it. You’re careful to smooth out each corner and wrinkle. The tension swells as the silence stretches. He tempers the urge to snatch it back.

You squint at him, “A dosage this high for a chest infection?”

He shrugs and reaches over his head to yank his coat hood forward. “Doctor’s orders”.

After a beat, you relent and glance over to give him an exasperated smile, “Whatever. As long as it helps clear your lungs. You freaked me out last night with all that wheezing”.

You begin switching off your monitors, patting down at your pockets for the keys. To synchronise with the end of your shift, Dabi purposely chose the last appointment. That was another thing he has been doing a lot— trying to fit his life around yours.

“Watching me sleep now, perv?”

“Yeah. I love when a guy sounds like a punctured squeaky toy, really gets me worked up,” you drawl, falling in line with him after turning off the lights and checking the locks. Tereda would close up the rest.

You brought a tonal shift to his life he couldn’t have anticipated; enough that he regularly spent nights crashing on your couch to wait out the bad weather. There was something about you from the beginning that he couldn’t put a finger on. Nothing as simple as your attractiveness— you had a good heart, but not by society's standards, much like Twice.

A quick internet search would pull up listings of buildings he had burned and the trail of bodies left in his wake. But it didn’t matter. Villain, vigilante, hero, a person is a person, even him.

That first meeting, winter settling in, you admitted to him you were quirkless. A shitty olive branch effort, he’s sure. That whole instinctual radar that comes with being a misfit in this world. You left a strong impression. He recalls how he gave you the name Dabi, cackling harshly as if he were leaving you with a ticking time bomb, and you simply said: “Maybe I’ll see you again. Hopefully without all the blood, next time”.

He latched on and desperately wanted to hate you for it. Yet your arm is linking through his once again, pressed close to his side as the rain hammers down onto the empty street, and everything he can’t bring himself to say has taken root in his windpipe.

“Wanna come up?”

“For coffee?” he swipes his tongue over his teeth, raising a suggestive brow. Your offer is as innocent as it always is, and the sight of you flustered is as welcome as ever.

“Tea, actually,” is your poorly veiled response.

Dabi knows he’s getting too comfortable. You might be quirkless but you’re not stupid. Infact, at times you’re unsettlingly perceptive; his only mercy is that you are too nice to pry.

He should tell you ‘no’. Giran could probably set him up. He might even get away with crashing at the bar. Instead he says, “Not like I’ve got anywhere else to be”.

Your apartment building is nothing to write home about. Slightly run down, maintained by residents rather than their pig landlords. It stands shorter than the neighbouring buildings, the entire right side eaten by withered wisteria. Nobody bats an eyelid at his appearance in a place like this.

Inside is a mirror of the outside. Unremarkable in every way, yet he feels remarkably at home. You go in first, kicking off your shoes without bothering to line them up, waddling to the narrow linen closet in the hallway. You’ve managed to cram a dryer right beneath the shelves, since there was barely any space elsewhere.

“I can grab you something to wear while I put our stuff on a spin”.

The rain sticks to his forehead, thin streaks of black dye running down his temple. Grinning, you hand him an old towel, already stained and fraying at the hem, “You look harmless like this. Like a wet cat”.

He pats carelessly at his face while shucking off his coat. The nerves are long dead and it’s painless. You squawk when the heavy fabric hits the genkan floor with a wet slap. “Dabi!”

“That’s what you get,” he rolls his neck and bends to untie his boots, the towel thrown over his shoulder. “Harmless. I burned down a money laundering front just a few hours ago”.

“I saw it on the news. You’re such a dickhead,” you laugh, heading into the kitchenette. “There was no good reason for you to melt the asphalt of that entire city block”.

A smile works its way onto his face. Gross. “Can’t have them mistaking me for a good guy”.

“You are a good guy”.

“You’re delusional,” he shoots back, an unbearable fondness swelling in his chest. The pressure is the worst part. Spools of vine and leafy green pierced into lung tissue, stems squeezing through his rib cage.

You’ve been staring at him for too long. That sweet smile hasn’t wavered. Dabi clears his throat, first to dispel the awkwardness he feels and then again as a stray petal sticks to his throat. It brushes against his tonsils and he quickly covers his mouth.

“Sure you’re okay?” your voice is quiet, testing the waters.

A fingernail catches on a staple by his chin as his hand drags down his face, answering on an exhale, “Fine. Stop asking. Didn’t you say something about tea?”

“Can’t help it,” you huff, shutting the overhead cupboard with too much force. "You’re not a good liar, you know”.

Dabi gives a dismissive wave and heads over to the couch. The distance is barely four strides but he manages to unbuckle his belt, jeans unbuttoned and falling loose around his hips. Kicking them off with little to no grace, your eyes are heavy on his back as he pulls his shirt over his head and throws it at the laundry pile tucked away near your bathroom.

The quaint studio can barely house you, never mind him. Dabi was always small for his age but here it feels like he could stretch and touch every wall.

You’re moving in his periphery, following his lead and gradually revealing swaths of bare skin. You’ve seen him half naked before, in the clinic, but never the reverse. Dabi swallows thickly, ignoring the intimate atmosphere he unintentionally created. The kettle is electric and he takes comfort in the loud gurgling sound that comes with it, fixing his gaze on the blank TV screen.

“You can turn it on, you know. You are allowed,” you coaxed, voice warm and teasing. You’ve rummaged through the pile of clothes and found a hoodie that falls below your hips. “Or are you just going to sit there with your dick out?”

“You fucking wish,” he objected, reaching for the remote. Is it? His eyes fall to his lap. No, it isn’t.

He slouches, reclining into the cushions as some old rerun of Mighty Man plays. “Hey,” idly picking at a loose thread, he asks, “do you get many people come through with hanahaki?”

That gives you pause, and immediately he regrets asking. It’s hardly a common question. Hell, a good percentage of the population thought it to be an old wives tale, even in the wake of quirks. There was no plausible excuse as to why it would be on his mind.

Cautious in your approach, you stop by the couch with a steaming mug cradled in your hands. He sees those naked thighs, soft and uniquely yours. “Is… is that why you’ve been coughing?”

“No,” Dabi scoffs. In one forceful yank he rips the seam open and watches the foam innards spill out. You linger, weight shifting between your feet, and irritation prickles under his skin. “Who the hell do you think I would be chucking up flowers for? Not like I’ve got friends”.

Your shoulders lose tension and he tries not to think too hard about it; he doesn’t want to know. He feels his own airways clear at the sound of your laughter, “I dunno. Stain, maybe?”

Pursing his lips, he sucks back the copper from between his teeth, “Fuck you”. You try to smile. You pass his tea and he forgoes the handle. The warmth of the mug seemed to seep into his bones and ease the ache.

“Right right. Big bad villain. I forgot you’re supposed to be an empty husk without a heart,” you teased, sitting unnecessarily close and burying your feet beneath his thigh, careful not to touch his staples. The hoodie slips and pools around your hips. Dabi’s throat constricts as his body goes rigid. “Ah shit. Are my toes cold? Want me to grab a blanket?”

Forcing himself lax he clicks his tongue and tastes iron, grip tightening on his mug as he brings it to his lips. “Doesn’t matter. I run cold anyway”.

The tea is soothing. Sweet for a ginger tea— brown sugar, maybe. You must’ve boiled it for his sore throat. Molasses swirl on his tongue. They wash down the blood and clean his palette. A smooth, mellowed out aroma fills his senses and overpowers the delicate anise fragrance lingering at the back of his throat.

You concede, tucking your knees under your chin and regarding him with that look again. The one that feels as if you’re reading him like a page in a book. He has never been the type to worry about appearances but when it’s you he can’t help wondering what you think of him.

A cartoonish explosion fills the room with streams of orange and yellow as the episode comes to the halfway point. The light paints your silhouette gold, reflecting in your irises as they retract from the brightness.

Taking another gulp, he winced at the sharp twist in his chest. Two weeks was generous and Tereda knew it. He’s already vomiting full flowers. Corpses make for fertile soil, apparently. He read that somewhere online while he searched for information on morning glories; you are fast growing and frost tender.

A soft note breaks the silence and your toes start to wriggle. “I can hear you thinking. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Despite what you thought, he was a good liar. To those around him but most of all to himself. This is when he should retaliate with a biting comment and keep the equilibrium. He would, if not for the wave of heat that rolls through him at your words, and how obviously you felt it displace the air.

Dabi can lie. His body can not.

“Just that thing you said earlier, about being an empty husk,” he begins, bringing the warm mug to rest against his sternum, incognisant to the ring of heat stinging his skin.

Your expression wanes with regret and he hates it. “I was joking—”

“If you say sorry I’ll burn your couch to a crisp,” he fumes. Vulnerability made him defensive. Angry. It felt like cold air blowing on exposed muscle. “Didn’t ask for a meaningless apology”.

Deep in the cavity of his ribs another bud unfurls. Your patience with him is not endless but it is more than he deserves.

“Then what are you asking?”

Nausea curdled in his stomach. He feels it climb his gullet. “Guess I wondered what you really thought”.

“About…?”

He snarls, hackles raised. “Do I have to spell it out?”

A few beats pass. Your answer comes in a gentle murmur. “Well, our capacity to hate reflects our capacity to love. So, yeah. I do think you’ve got a pretty big heart. It’s just a bit bruised up”.

“Jesus,” he mutters. The worst part is you’re being entirely honest. His knees spread as his hips shift, the after credits begin to roll and reflect off the sutures around his thighs. It reminds him that he is half naked, literally and figuratively. “Forget I said anything. I need a smoke”.

“No smoking,” you bat lightly at his shoulder. “Not until you’re better. If I catch you I’ll kill you before that cough does”.

And isn’t that fucking hilarious.

Pressure prickles behind his eyes that he can never relieve. There’s a florid mass in his thoat; his pulse is thrumming now, singing in his ears. He needs to throw up.

You shout after him as he stumbles over toward your bathroom. He slams the door behind him, hears you curse as his ceramic mug hits the floor and breaks. This isn’t romance, or a fairytale. It isn’t like it is in the movies.

Lifting his fist, he brings it down hard on his sternum. The force barrels him over and he retches. Sour, viscous threads of saliva drip from his mouth into the toilet bowl, but nothing more comes up.

You’re banging at the walls. “Dabi, open up!”

Dabi lurches again, forcing a deep cough and watching a few small heart shaped petals dance in the air as they free fall. Again, collapsing to his knees, he can taste your ginger tea. He vomits a clump of bloomed morning glories, wrinkled and smooshed into a misshapen ball. Blood muddies the water.

Another knock, this one somewhat pitiful. There’s a soft noise that sounds like you’re sliding down the door. “Please don’t make me break this open. My landlord will kill me”.

Trembling. Dabi reaches his fingers into his mouth and feels around the teeth to dislodge what was left. Settling back on his feet, his hand uncurls like a slow sprouting shoot and reveals another morning glory in the shallow of his palm.

Colour streaks across his vision, filled with hazy undulations. White noise drowns out the frantic tone of your voice. Mouth hung open, Dabi inhales until his lungs bloat, and keeps it held until the lights begin to fade.

His consciousness tips from one dream to another. When he wakes up on his back surrounded by soft, freshly washed sheets. A sigh escapes his lips as he turns into the downy pillow beneath his head. It smells like you.

Fingers comb through his hair, pushing the bangs away from his forehead. It’s then that he notices the mattress dipped towards the weight of another.

Dabi squints, prying his eyes open. You’re laid beside him. At first he considers that he’s dreaming, but you feel so real. Your thumb strokes over his cheek in a tender back and forth motion, “You comfy?”

“Better than the couch,” he rasps. There’s an awful taste in his mouth. Intermingling mint and copper. “Did you brush my teeth or something?”

“I rinsed your mouth out,” you admit bashfully. Now that he’s looking he notices your eyes are red. Puffy like you’d been crying. Your smile fractured as you added, “I had to make sure nothing else was stuck”.

Realisation creeps in slowly. It’s gentle with him, like you are, acclimating him to reality. Just like that— you know.

“How’d you get me in here?” he deflects.

You prop yourself up on your elbow and reach to trace the topography of his scarred chest. His breathing stutters and your fingers stop right over his heart.

“Might’ve pulled a muscle or two but it wasn’t so hard. You weigh almost nothing,” you reply. Quiet, as though you were afraid to break the illusion. “Kinda concerning but it seems you have bigger stuff to worry about already, huh?”

Eyes falling closed, he inhales, counting to three. He replies on the end of a long exhale, “Didn't want you to know”.

“Tereda does?”

Dabi nods and the movement knocks his brain loose. He hisses at the throbbing pain. You take him into your palms with a frown, “You hit your head on the way down. You’ll have to come in with me again in the morning”.

“Fuck that,” he groans. You tap at his temple and pout your lips, glaring disapprovingly. “You can’t make me”.

“I can and I will,” his eyes widened at the crack in your voice. Tears gather along your lash line and you sniff harshly, “You could have died, Dabi. And now you might have a head injury. How the hell could you not tell—?!”

“Alright, alright. Shit,” uncharacteristic of him, Dabi let himself have this. His hand cups round your neck and brings you down into his bare chest. He hushes you softly, running his palm down the length of your spine, wrapping you in a clumsy embrace. “Don’t cry about it”.

You settle into the crook of his neck, nose bumping his jaw as you turn to speak, and he suppresses a shudder. “Don’t cry about it,” you repeat mockingly. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“Enlighten me”.

Frustration bursts, and you lift your head to look at him. You’re so close. “I care about you, idiot. I don’t want you dead on my bathroom floor! Sue me!”

Dabi cracks a crooked smile. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me”.

“Who is it?”

And he sours, his stare fixed on the ceiling above. “Does it matter?”

“It matters,” you lean over him until all he can see is you. “…Is it me?”

There’s an echo in his ribs; a phantom knife’s twist. Sure, Dabi is a good liar, he thinks. Touya never was. Touya wore his heart on his sleeve. He was terrible at concealing his hurt. Dabi tries to find the words and comes up short.

The silence is answer enough. Your mouth wobbles and you nestle back into his neck before he can see you cry in earnest. “You are so fucking stupid, Dabi”.

Despite the seriousness he laughs, tucks his nose to your crown and tightens his hold around your waist. He’s only ever imagined what your weight would feel like pressed against him like this. Maybe he’s imagining it, but his lungs are lighter.

“What did Doctor Tereda advise you to do?”

He pouts where you cannot see it. He doesn’t want to think about that quack right now. “She told me either I get the surgery and go to therapy, or I get the symptoms to calm down with therapy on its own”.

“Of course you’d…” you huff. “She didn’t tell you to talk to me?”

“That too,” he shrugs, grinning at the warning press of your teeth to his throat. It’s disturbing how comfortably you both fell into place. A soft kiss replaces your bite, and he holds his breath.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” you tell him, kisses trailing up his jugular to his cheek, unperturbed by the scar tissue and metal in his skin, or the tremors rumbling through his body. “I’m sure there’s no way in hell I can get you to agree to therapy. So instead I’m going to take you out on a few dates and see how your symptoms change”.

Dabi’s mouth opens for air and your lips brush, stealing his breath. “What the fuck?” he says. “Why?”

There’s no point, he wants to tell you. It won’t change a thing.

“Because I want you to believe me,” you murmur, nose knocking his own. Inexplicably drawn to you, Dabi tilts up to align your mouths again, barely a kiss. “If you die it won’t be because of me. And I atleast want you to go out knowing that I love you too”.

The swell in his throat is different this time. He has never been so glad about his inability to cry. Dabi grins, wide and all teeth, pushing the staples in his cheeks up by his eyes. “There’s something really wrong with you, you know that?”

“No kidding,” you laugh. “Guess we make a good pair”.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader

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doofnoof · 1 year

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One of my favorite personal DCA headcanons is that Moon is Like That™ because he's a Jester and they put him in the one position that is fundamentally not meant to have any attention paid to it. He's the Naptime Attendant. His job is to make children fall asleep and stay in bed, there might've been a storytime but it wouldn't have been long, and then Moon would have to skulk around the darkness making sure no one got out of bed, which goes against what he was literally built to do, because he only gets Attention when a child is Misbehaving or for Storytime.

Don't get it twisted though, Moon was meant to play The Villain on stage, and I don't believe he was ever Soft or Nice per se, he's just always been Spooky. But also putting him in a situation where he can only get someone's attention when he's punishing them was a Very. Bad. Idea.

If Sun were in Moon's position, he'd make a better Naptime Attendant. He's still nightmare fuel, but he doesn't thrive on it, his job was to be The Hero, The Protagonist, The Good Guy™ and he would do what he felt he must to fulfill his role as The Naptime Attendant. I also believe that just like Moon, he would absolutely farm some children for remnant, if that's what we're gonna call it. He was willing to throw Gregory to the wolves after he disobeyed and turned the lights off, dooming the poor kid to actual factual death (if not for Freddy, who I don't believe Sun was aware of), I think he and Moon are both extremely morally grey, they just play up different sides of it.

For the record Moon would also suck as a Playtime Attendant, because he's scary, but he'd also likely be less likely to, ahem, "farm remnant" when people are around to see. He'd absolutely thrive on all of the attention, though he'd be just as stressed as Sun with all of the rule breaking and commotion! If you tried to take attention away from Sun he'd go off the rails just as hard as Moon did.

This isn't a jab at anyone else's personal headcanons either, not a character hate post, I just think Sun and Moon are the most fun when neither of them are Good People, and I think both of them are unsuitable for any position other than Stage Animatronic, which makes the fact that they were canonly moved to the Daycare even funnier. Every corporate decision in Security Breach reads like a dark humor skit.

#bug barks #bug writes #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf dca #daycare attendant

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shirotaniart · 8 months

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Finally made a reference sheet for the Dim Sun members in my Pokemon Ranger Shadows of Almia Resocialization AU!

The story resumes 4 years after Operation Brighton was successfully completed. Hastings and Erma learn that the higher ranked Ex Team Dim Sun members are supposed to be released into early probabtion time. When they visit the former criminals they realize that while they have recovered from the effects of the Dark Crystal and don't seem to pose a big threat to Almia anymore they aren't quite decent people and useful members of society yet.

So with all of her chivalry Erma decides to get the Union involved in their probabtion time. Together with Hastings she comes up with a program that seeks to reform and resocialize the former villains.

Here's a short preview of the resocialization program document:

Every Ex-Dim-Sun-Member will be assigned a partner and mentor figure from the Union who holds authority over them but also takes responsibility for their actions during probation.

2. Every Ex-Dim-Sun-Member will receive a weekly schedule filled with tasks similar to community service.

3. Every Ex-Dim-Sun-Member has to support their mentor and must contribute to their job in a positive way

4. Criminal activities and prohibited behaviors of the attendants of this program will be penalized with the program and probation time being revoked.

...

The mentorship relations

Wyatt (Blake) Hall - Rhythmi

Kincaid - Kate

Wheeler - Wendy

Ice - Murph

Lavana - Keith

Heath - Sven

Wyatt: A bit self-conscious and still haunted by his past crimes and immense feelings of guilt. But overall he is a pretty facile person and Rhythmi does not have any trouble with him. He is a flagship attendant of the program. Wyatt completes his tasks with honesty and nothing but good intentions for the people of Almia and his mentor. Sometimes he is a bit depressed but learning to be valuable to society and a good person improves his mental state more and more. Wyatt is not sure what he wants to do with his life yet but he feels inspired to help people and Pokemon as much as he can to try and make up for his past mistakes.

Kincaid: While he understands that he had to face prison for the list of crimes he commited he is not happy with the program being forced onto him. He was an independent man before Team Dim Sun and he can find a way to live an honest life by himself. Kincaid still believes that he doesn't need to have faith in other people to achieve his goals, no matter their moral alignment. Kate acting as some sort of mentor is ridiculous to him, what could he learn from a young adult anyway? Kate and Kincaid's partnership is held back by their opposite world views and distrust. They get into arguments a lot to the point it's hindering the program. Hastings decides to cuff them together so they have to learn to work as a team. Kincaid's additionally helping Hastings with strategizing for missions and Kate has to attend every meeting of them being nerds, obviously.

Wheeler: Wendy and Wheeler get along as soon as they realize how much they can learn from each other. She expects him to have his own opinion and view of things and helps him to grow as a person. His biggest weakness was the dependency on his former boss and his approval. Once Wendy learns about his talent for cooking they spend a lot of time doing that together. (Much to the other Union members' delight.) Wheeler tries to be a friendly fella but has his snarky moments anyway. He especially loves annoying Ice and Kincaid as they both seem to be not improving much as people.

Ice: The usually cool ex boss of the Sinis Trio seems to have fallen into some sort of rebellious phase. Murph is trying his best to have Ice do the tasks he is assigned and still be a diligent Union member. But all of his attempts only motivate Ice to be more problematic. If Murph didn't know any better he would say Ice wants to go back to prison because that's easier than trying to improve. It's the path of least resistance and doesn't require Ice to work hard. With some time and lots of stupid pranks he begins to feel guilty for causing Murph so much trouble. Ultimately he is impressed by Murph not giving up on him despite his behavior and really tries to change for the better.

Lavana: Out of all the ex members Lavana for sure is the most ambitious attendant. Shortly after the program starts she announces that she wants to pick up her dream of becoming a Pokemon Ranger again. Despite some protests from Hastings she receives the position as a trainee Ranger at the Union from Erma. She is still a little princess at the start but Keith and her new job help her realize that some things in life are only attainable through hard work and passion. The people and Pokemon of Almia showing gratitude is something new but Lavana feels very accomplished every time she helped someone. However, she gets gradually annoyed with Keith being absent so often, mentally and physically. Somehow he is obsessed with making sure Kate is alright.

Heath: Sven has no trouble with Heath, he may be a slow learner but he is also very patient and obedient. Heath seems to be glad that the Union is taking care of him and sees the program as his 2nd chance in life. It appears that he is more worried about how some of his former colleagues don't take this seriously. Sven does not feel any deeper attachment towards Heath, unlike some of his Ranger colleagues. For him this is just a job that needs to be done. Heath looks up to Sven and admires his confidence and sense of morality. He becomes increasingly helpful on missions and proves to be a gentle giant when it comes to caring about his friends and former colleagues. To him Dim Sun was his family.

Thanks for reading my little introduction post.

#pokemon ranger #shadows of almia #resocialization au #myart #team dim sun

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thebluestbluewords · 3 months

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Moral Education

*chanting* OT3 OT3 OT3!

Mal's teeth are sharp when she grins. “The beast king locked all the royal children up in his castle, just as he’d been locked up and abandoned by his own people. It’s to teach us all a lesson. So we can learn the power of isolation, or something. I don’t know what moral lessons your father is trying to impart. I’m not from here.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“School.”

“Do you–” Ben starts, and then just stops for a moment, with his mouth open and his jaw working like he’s trying to digest the fact that the villains have more accurate information about his father than he’d reckoned for. “Did you have a source for that? One I could read, maybe?”

Mal scoffs. “Like I’d ever steal a textbook. That’s school property. I’m a beacon of goodness and moral integrity for these trying times, and I’d never steal textbooks from a blessed institution of learning.”

Ben levels an incredulous sort of look at her. “Really.”

“Really. I didn’t steal anything–” anything of value, Mal adds to herself. “From Dragon Hall.”

“Because there wasn’t anything to steal.” Evie adds unhelpfully. “And you didn’t attend very often.”

“I had better things to do.”

“Liar.”

Mal rolls her eyes. She attended school enough of the time. Like, at least half of the days that they were allegedly supposed to attend. She showed up just often enough to keep all the little villains in line, and to get the free food that some particularly enterprising adult got for the cafeteria. “Whatever. The point is, we know that your father donated his old castle to keep the royal children all locked up in one place, and that’s why we’re not allowed to leave. The king wants us all contained so we can be just like him.”

Ben’s face folds up into a frown. His eyebrows do this cute crinkly thing when he’s confused that makes Mal sort of want to kiss the point in the middle of them, right where his head goes all wrinkly. Like a weird, sexy old man. “That’s not true. We’re allowed to leave on the weekends.”

“You’re allowed to leave,” Evie chimes in. “We’re not. Only the Auradon kids who have parental permission can go into town. I asked Fairy Godmother, and she said that we don’t have signed permission slips from our parents, so she can’t bend the rules and let us out, even though we could just send the permission slips over to the Isle of the Lost for them to sign.”

“Like my mother would ever sign something to make our lives better.”

“My mom would forge her signature for you,” Evie says sweetly. Ben’s eyebrows are reaching a new level of distress, but that’s not their problem. “She knows how. It’s something you learn, when you’re cohabitating with someone. Which our mothers are doing. Because they’re fu–”

“OKAY, OKAY, OKAY.”

“Fucking,” Evie finishes, flashing an absolutely wicked grin. “They’re fucking. Because that’s just the headache we needed. Our mothers having a forbidden isle romance, after we already claimed that story.”

“I’m going to end our romance if you don’t stop talking about my mom’s sex life,” Mal grumbles. She’s watched a lot of shitty, awful things happen on the Isle of the Lost, but her mother’s romance with the Evil Queen has been one of the most disgusting. “They’re like watching a pair of goblins try to catch a fish.”

“Disgusting and wrinkly,” Evie agrees. “And something that feels illegal. In the boring, gross way. Not the fun way.”

“I’ll show you the fun way.” Mal shoots back. Her mouth just runs on autopilot sometimes, without any actual input from her brain. It’s sort of a problem. “In bed. You wanna get up to some indecent exposure together, princess?”

Evie’s mouth is so red and sweet, and Mal is well aware that it’s lip gloss, but she still wants to lick the shine off of Evie’s perfect smile when she turns it on like this.

“I think that should wait til later, M. We have a guest right now,” Evie says sweetly. “Ben?”

Right. They have his royal highness over.

“I’m–yeah,” Ben squeaks. He’s so cute when he’s flustered. “I mean, sorry. I didn’t know that Fairy Godmother wasn’t letting you four leave on the weekends. I mean, I knew that you weren’t going anywhere, but you’re always so busy, Evie, and I just figured that you were staying on campus to get everything done, because that’s what I have to do, and– uh, I can talk to her. About it. If that would help.”

So sweet.

“That would be great, babe,” Evie coos. “You’re the best.”

Ben ducks his head into his smile. It doesn’t make sense for the crown prince to be shy, but Mal’s maybe, possibly been keeping track of when they can coax a real smile out of him, and nine times out of ten, when they get his real smile instead of his public one, he ducks his head to hide it.

It’s cute, in a sad sort of way. It’s one thing for Mal to watch Evie, and Jay, and Carlos hide their real smiles, because they’ve grown up hiding their emotions from everyone but each other, but Ben’s supposed to be the well-adjusted one. He’s supposed to be Auradon’s perfect prince. The boy wonder who always has a kind word for everyone. Their future leader, equipped with a strong arm and a kind heart and a level head. It’s sort of distressing to think that he’s been taught to hide his emotions just the same as they have, so Mal buries the feelings for now, and keeps watching and waiting instead.

“The best,” Mal echoes. “Best boyfriend ever.”

Ben’s eyes flicker up to meet hers. Gods below, but she has got to stop falling for this boy every time he smiles at her. It’s not fair to the others. She’s got a limited number of butterflies that her stomach can produce, and they all seem connected to the way Ben’s smile makes his eyes crinkle up at the edges. It’s even worse when he’s all sunlight and golden like this. She’s going to have to have Evie make blackout curtains for their room, because it’s just not fair to keep bathing Ben in golden afternoon light. He’ll get some sort of complex.

“Thanks,” Ben says, voice round and soft around the word. It fits naturally into his mouth just like it doesn’t in Mal’s own. “I’ll do what I can. There’s nothing I can do about official school policy, but I’m pretty sure there’s a loophole about students whose parents don’t have custody that we can exploit to get you four off campus. I’d wondered a bit why you never took us up on visiting the ice-cream place.”

“Maybe we hate ice cream.”

“I’d believe that.” Ben says seriously. “I would. That was a good delivery. But I know you, Mal, and I know that you’d never turn down an offer of mint chip.”

Ugh. Unbearable. The butterflies aren’t going away.

“ANYWAY,” Mal says, spinning away from her boyfriend and his stupid golden eyelashes. “As I was saying, I’d never steal from Dragon Hall, because I am a beacon of moral purity now, and stealing is wrong.”

“And because you didn’t go to class,” Ben agrees, with just a hint of a laugh in his voice. “Or so Evie says.”

“Evie’s a liar and a cheat.”

“And she’s right here, Malfeasance Bertha, so if you want any help with your remedial goodness homework later, you’d better watch your mouth.”

Her girlfriend is the worst.

“Anyway,” Mal says again, turning so she can face both of her beautiful, perfect nerds at once. “We were taught that king beast locked up the royal kids in his former castle so he could keep control of them. And for moral lessons, or whatever it is you good folks tell your kids to keep them compliant. And then we got here, and we’ve been stuck on the castle grounds since then, soooo.”

“So your logical conclusion was that your teachers were right, and my dad locks us up here,” Ben says, nodding. “Okay. I see it now. Do you want to know the real truth, or would you rather bring it up to Fairy Godmother when we ask her to let you off campus?”

“I want the truth.” Evie breaks in. “Please. I spent enough time locked in a castle back on the isle, so if there’s another way of living, I want to know about it.”

#my fic #descendants #descendants fic #I firmly believe that these three could be the best force of chaos if given the opportunity #let them bend all the rules together!! Let them have Mal's evil motivation and disregard for rules combined with Ben's knowledge #of legal loopholes #and Evie's knowledge of how to look cute and confident in whatever they're up to #they could get SO MUCH done before the adults even realize that they should be stopping them

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morlock-holmes · 10 months

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I don't really know what messages young people in this country absorb about the Civil War these days.

When I was a kid the mainstream centrist narrative, one that I think was pushed in schools and was definitely pushed in pop culture, went something like this:

"We modern people understand that slavery was wrong. But it is a mistake to judge the people of past times based on modern psychology or morals; rather, we must understand them as people of their times, who understood their world in a way fundamentally differently then we do, so far in the future.

"During the late 18th and early 19th century, slavery was simply not a very important issue, either morally or politically, and it certainly didn't play into the civil war in any real important fashion. The idea of slavery as a moral issue is a modern-day viewpoint, and while it is morally correct, we simply cannot project those moral sensibilities back into a world where they didn't exist.

"The Civil War was a fought as the culmination of a complex, somewhat abstruse political debate about whether power should reside primarily in separate states or within the federal government, and while it is tragic that this debate caused a war, both sides of that debate had valid reasons for taking their position."

Do they still teach that kind of thing to kids these days?

Because the more I learn the more I realize what incredible horseshit that story was.

Here, for example, is John Quincy Adams, in 1838:

"Midway through the filibuster, on June 30, Adams responded to an interruption by South Carolina representative Francis Wilkinson Pickens and described a notorious incident from the previous year.

I do not doubt in the least that he is, himself, a kind and indulgent master; so, I doubt not, are all the gentlemen who represent his State on this floor. They know not the horrors that belong to the system, and attend it even in their own State; and when they are stated by those who have witnessed them, he calls the whole a tissue of misrepresentation. . . . He does not know the profligate villain who procreates children from his slaves, and then sells his own children as slaves. He does not know the crushing and destruction of all the tenderest and holiest ties of nature which that system produces, but which I have seen, with my own eyes, in this city of Washington. Twelve months have not passed since a woman, in this District, was taken with her four infant children, and separated from her husband, who was a free man, to be sent away, I know not where. That woman, in a dungeon in Alexandria, killed with her own hand two of her children, and attempted to kill the others. She was tried for murder, and, to the honor of human nature I say it, a jury was not to be found in the District who would find her guilty. . . . The woman was asked how she could perpetrate such an act, for she had been a woman of unblemished character and of pious sentiments. She replied that wrong had been done to her and to them; that she was entitled to her freedom though she had been sold to go to Georgia and that she had sent her children to a better world.

I recommend clicking through that link and reading about what Adams said about that case in his diary.

In general, that website, Story of The Week, has a number of excellent and readable primary sources about slavery and racism in America, and they particularly demonstrate that the Abolition movement objected to slavery for exactly the reasons that we now object to it today: That it was unspeakably cruel to separate children from their mothers and husbands from wives; that men should be allowed to profit from their own work, rather than having the proceeds stolen; that slave owners would rape their female slaves and sell their own children.

I'm just amazed at how much energy America has put into lying to itself about its own history.

#history #the civil war #us history

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itsclydebitches · 1 year

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Something really heartbreaking to think about is that Ironwood probably thought RWBY and co allied with Salem. He sees Emerald, who he doesn’t know switch sides, fighting with JNPR as well as Winter, his lieutenant, to stop him. I really wonder what his last thoughts were. His allies turn against him, Winter betrays him, and they side with Salem. It’s no wonder he gave up.

That could have definitely been a thought Ironwood had, but only if he knows who Emerald is and I'm not sure he does? She seems to have kept a low criminal profile - evidenced by her being able to attend Beacon for the festival/Ironwood only being concerned with Roman as an agent - and during the attack she's up on the rooftops, watching the grimm do the work for them. She then heads back to Salem's lair, spends the majority of the ensuing Volumes there/visiting the occasional spot outside of Atlas, and then when she does enter the city it's via Salem's whale. I think her switching sides and leaving might be the only time she and Ironwood could have feasibly crossed paths after Beacon and, as said, she was "good" by then. Unless I'm forgetting something, Ironwood's reaction to seeing Emerald with the group would probably be less, "Omg Salem minion!" and more Volume 5 Cinder @ Jaune: "Who this?"

Which, you know, really highlights the lack of developed connections among our cast. Characters stay within their own circles and though we assume they should understand the role the rest of the cast plays because we have that information, the reality is they've never interacted, or even - as far as we know - gathered intel on them, like the Ace Ops had on Tyrian.

Regardless, yeah. Personally, I think a lot about the Inner Circle members that have joined Salem (Lionheart), or are trying to straddle the line (Raven), so when your allies show up to take you out, what are you likely to assume? Remember, Ironwood left the group after they'd already betrayed him to Robin, after someone (Cinder) managed sneak into his office, after Watts nearly took out Amity through insider access (Jaques), after Salem herself sent a grimm to tell him, 'You've lost. It's only a matter of time.' So Ironwood is already primed to look for Salem agents, based on both past and present experience, and then the group he tried to have arrested comes back.

Why would they do that? He tried to have them arrested, the Ace Ops clearly failed, they've been sneaking around the city since (Ironwood has that call with Penny)... and now they've staged an attack on him. Obviously they're trying to take him off the board, but only the audience has the full, moral picture as to why. What's Ironwood more likely to assume? That this group is stalling his plan to leave with the Relics/some survivors for two days and then personally stage an elaborate plan to take him out, all because they're just that morally repulsed by an imperfect solution that would at least somewhat hinder their mutual enemy... or that they're doing all this because they're working for that enemy?

The convoluted nature of the group's justifications vs. what Ironwood would likely assume is not only tragic, but further highlights just how Bad this all was. It's been said a million times now, but the fact that the writing (via our characters) spends a whole Volume more concerned with taking out a flawed ally than fighting the LITERAL VILLAIN SITTING OUTSIDE just really says it all to me. Do they want to do something about the whale? No, they only go there to get Oscar and the whale's destruction is a bonus no one saw coming. Do they want to fight the massive grimm army teams like FNKI are battling right outside? No, they need to rest in the mansion and watch over Nora. If they can't think of a way to get everyone out before Salem crushes them, are they willing to just let Ironwood, a city full of people, and the relics hopefully get to safety while they do what they were gonna do anyway: minor damage control, sitting around debating, and not engaging with Salem?

Nope.

Our villains did more in that Volume than the heroes did. Emerald left, Hazel 1v1ed Salem, Cinder was her normal, messy self, and Ironwood not only kept them from being overrun with his army but had a whale bomb ready to go. Meanwhile, the heroes were laser focused on fighting their own allies instead of doing anything about the baddies, right down to Qrow deciding that fighting Clover is more important than transporting/fighting/tying up Tyrian.

If I were Ironwood I would ABSOLUTELY think that the group had joined Salem, or were at least trying to play both sides like Raven did in an attempt to save themselves, because the alternative is too absurd for anyone to hit on without that omniscient perspective.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

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eobarried · 11 months

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i think that when we talk about earth 42 miles morales, there’s more important things to consider than just “is he a villain or a hero” and here’s why:

1. disregarding thematic elements, let’s look at things logically first. og miles and 42 miles diverge when the spider bites. that means that BOTH of them were accepted to visions academy (we see this in one of spot’s flashbacks to the spider, where it was about to bite 42 miles). 42 miles wouldn’t have been accepted to visions if his father had died already, bc it’s a boarding school and his mom would have wanted him to stay at home. at this point, they have a similar starting point

2. 42 miles attending visions (likely briefly), is important and thematic. visions academy, as a prestigious charter school focusing on academics, represents being a productive asset (being a good student, good employee, working WITH the system). it is presented by miles’s parents as opposite to uncle aaron, who disregards this traditional approach to success in a capitalist society. actually, the fact that 42 miles was almost bitten while he was in school (as opposed to og miles, who was bitten while he was with his uncle aaron), thematically aligns 42 miles more with his father than his uncle aaron. this is important, because jefferson believes in the american dream and proving one’s self through merit. if 42 miles believes that, it means he has a different viewpoint than og miles, who believes that everyone is deserving of greatness.

3. stereotypes are important in this movie. let’s talk about miguel now. he specifically calls og miles an anomaly. an anomaly doesn’t mean a “universe breaking threat” - if you’ve read anything scp related, anomalies are just things that are strange. they don’t fit in or make sense within the universe. in this sense, the universe is the “canon” - the fact that miguel uses that word is a clue that what miles doesn’t fit into is not only the “storyline associated with spiderman” but also “the storyline associated with a young black man.”

4. when we look at og miles as a spider-person, the “storyline” he refuses to fit into has to do with loss and struggle. everyone around him says: you are spiderman. spiderman has to experience loss, trauma, and pain in order to become a better hero. so you do too. thematically, this connects to miles as a young black man. people around him (like his school counselor) assume that he has to have experienced hardship and struggled in order to fit a certain mold. it calls back to they stereotypes we have surrounding black stories: that in order for them to do well in front of white audiences, that there has to be pain and suffering and hardship and loss. og miles rejects this stereotype and wants to “do his own thing” - tell an authentic story without reliance on pain and struggle.

5. how does this connect to e42 miles? well, miguel says that 42 miles was supposed to be spiderman, not miles. that 42′s storyline is more stereotypical and fitting - both as a spiderman, but also as a young black man. this makes sense with what we see of him - he has lost his father, and had to drop out of a prestigious school to be with his mother. he was forced to grow up faster than miles - which is why he physically looks older (perhaps also referring to the fact that white people often overestimate the ages of black boys). even without becoming spiderman, his storyline is what a white audience would expect to see of a young black male protagonist. what miguel calls canon, we as audiences would call “stereotypical” “safe” or “expected.” these are stories we have seen over and over again (like spiderman) and that are familiar to us. they don’t make us question things. they don’t undermine our own beliefs and values. perhaps they present a sob story of a young man who was failed by the system (e42) or perhaps they’re the story of a young man who was able to pull himself up, and through effort and merit became what no one else thought he could be (og miles)

6. but, according to miguel’s logic, both miles have broken canon. og miles wasn’t supposed to have his story told in the first place. 42 miles was - but it hasn’t been. both miles have now broken canon, because neither of their stories are what they were supposed to be. we’ve seen the way in which miles broke canon - despite proving himself to be a competent spiderman, he’s still been rejected, breaking the mold of “young man who pulls himself up by earning himself a place in the american dream.” that can’t be his story, because it isn’t true - he didn’t pull himself up. he had a whole community of people - both spider and not - who helped him along the way. his story isn’t one of personal success, it’s a story about community.

7. and in order to solidify the themes surrounding these movies, that means that 42 miles has to have done something similar. but if 42 miles has similar beliefs to his father, that complicates things. if he believes that that a person’s worth is proven by merit, than he would resent miles for being bitten by his spider, because he knows that if he had that chance, he would have been just as good of a spiderman. and if he had been fated (or canon) to be bitten, then he would resent miles even more for taking that opportunity away from him. this is similar to visions academy - 42 miles won the lottery - he had luck. then he passed the entrance exam - he proved his merit. but circumstances meant he had to leave the school to take care of his mother, and he lost his chance to prove his worth to society. not only did he lose the opportunity to tell his story (he did not become spiderman, the movie isn’t “about” him), but in the world of the film, he’s unable to achieve greatness because not only was he unable to attend a prestigious school, but the community around him is now crime-ridden and crumbling because of his lack of opportunity.

8. miles would likely feel guilty about his opportunity, but also frustrated at the same time. why should their only be one spider between the two of them? why is there only one story that can be told? why is there only one version of the black experience that can be shared to a broader audience? why can’t he do both?

9. what’s more important than 42 miles being a hero or a villain or whatever... is that he’s a person. he’s a kid, like og miles. he is miles - just like miles, he found someone that shouldn’t exist and immediately tied them to uncle aaron’s punching bag. yes, 42′s rope is stronger and his knots are tighter, but he’s still miles. and i think that hopefully, and i don’t know how everything will play out, but i really hope that through this story, 42 miles finds a way to understand and lift up his community on his own - in his own way. without the luck of a lottery or a spider bite. without a superhero swooping in to save the day. without having to prove himself through merit and claw himself out of a bad situation alone. but, like og miles - asking for help. admitting that he doesn’t know how to do these things, or fix his community. working together with those he loves to better the city that he loves. that - that’s what’s important about e42 miles. because he’s not just miles - he’s us.

#Spiderverse #across the spiderverse #across the spider-verse spoilers #into the spider verse #when i say he's us i mean he also lives in a universe without a 'spiderman' per say #i think he's supposed to represent our own universe and provide commentary on how to support and uplift our communities #so yeah #meta analysis

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nyxlaufeyson · 11 months

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Crowded

Main Masterlist - Other Fic Masterlist

POV: Third

Ship: Miles x Gwen

Type: Fluff/Drabble!

Wordcount: 361

TW: None

Synopsis: Miles grabs Gwen's hand so they don't get lost in the crowd.

A/N: So yeah I prolly won't get to all the pride shit but I'm trying, but here's this in the mean time because I watched the new Spider-Verse movie. THIS DOESN'T CONTAIN ANY SPOILERS THO, JUST A HAPPY LITTLE AU THAT HAS BARELY ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE MOVIE. Both Miles and Gwen are part of the Spider Society.

HQ seemed to be extra busy than usual, and Miles and Gwen had to zigzag left and right in order to avoid bumping into anyone.

“I wonder what’s with all the traffic today.” Miles said, loudly, so Gwen could hear him over all the noise. Gwen shrugged, thinking of the possible reasons for the jam-packed headquarters. “Well, it is summer, so I guess school's out for those who still attend. Or maybe summer morale is high, and villains are out on vacation in some of the universes.” Gwen theorized, and Miles laughed.

“One problem with that theory though- wouldn’t it technically be winter in some universes? Plus, it’s still Winter for some of the world. Not everywhere is Summer at the same time.” Miles pointed out, and Gwen considered for a moment before sticking her tongue out. “Smart-Ass.”

Miles grabbed Gwen’s hand, pulling her out of the way before she almost ran into someone. “Be careful.” He teased, and Gwen rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”

Miles held onto Gwen’s hand as the pair navigated through the huge crowd, both of them getting smothered by all the people, staying connected only through their hands.

When they made it to the other side, Gwen was relieved to see there weren’t as many people. She could only take so many people at a time.

The pair continued on down the path, and Gwen noticed that Miles was still holding her hand. She stared at their hands for a moment, not sure if she should pull away or not.

Miles seemed to notice too, and he quickly let go of her hand, rubbing his hair awkwardly. Gwen frowned, bringing her hand back over to her side. “What, my hands on fire or something?” She asked, and Miles went red.

“What? No! No- I just… I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” He explained, and Gwen just laughed.

“That’s alright.” Gwen said, shaking it off. “Although, I don’t mind if you don’t mind.” She said, blushing slightly.

“Well I don’t mind.” Miles said, and Gwen took his hand back into hers, continuing the route to their favorite spot to sit upside down and eat sandwiches.

Hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated.

#spiderverse #into the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #gwen stacy #miles x gwen #gwen x miles #gwiles #miles morales #spiderverse fic

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remidyal · 6 months

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Bad Ideas of the Day, part 5, Even Worse Edition

It's time for my monthly-ish roundup of my regular bad ideas of the day from the D20 fanfic discord! Last month's is available here and has links back to all the prior ones because now there's too many for me to be bothered direct linking here!

As usual, these are a mix of fantasy high and other D20 prompts and are open for anyone who wants to do something with them, though I appreciate letting me know because I wanna read it!

Bad idea of the day, class swap (but not like that) edition: Due to a clerical error - namely, their cleric signed them up for it - all of the bad kids have to attend each other's classes for a week, resulting in Fabian sitting through a Worlds Religion lecture, Kristen doing her -3 Dex best to sneak around in rogue classes, Gorgug going to the bard classes that Fig never actually went to, Riz doing his best to remember everything Adaine's ever mentioned about how wizarding works, Fig faking fighting instead of raging for once, and Adaine trying to pass off her furious fist as just being how her anger manifests

Bad idea of the day, abc edition: In the village of Happly, at the harvest festival, Pinnochio enters his infamous bubblegum and whiskey pie and gets himself run out of town by a mob of angry villagers

Bad Idea of the Day, Toxic Masculinity is Undead edition: The adventurers of Solace are well aware of Halloween, because every year on that date the soulless corpses of villains slain in the past year rise again to chase after their killers. Can Fabian keep ahead of both Zombie Penelope Everpetal and Zombie Bill Seacaster?

Bad idea of the day, Figueroth Faeth's Day Off edition: Receiving notification halfway through junior year that one more unexcused absence is going to result in her being expelled, Fig drags her friends into a heist to break into the school, fake her attendance record and show that she's been there the whole time.

Bad Idea of the Day, Drama Edition: It turns out that there's a reason that Aguefort has a theater department. Once every hundred years, a performance must be put on that is quote truly moving unquote lest the school be destroyed, and it turns out that Riz is fated to play the heroine of the most recent attempt. Can the Bad Kids teach him to not botch his lines or hide under the stage?

Bad idea of the day, not all cats are good cats: Puss in Boots must fight off a new contender for children's hearts and minds as the trickster cat du dour. Can he successfully murder this strange cat and his lame rhymes and thing-like minions to keep his throne, or will he be the first to fall to seussian influences?

Bad idea of the day, death stalks you edition: Adaine starts sending out Solstice cards to people who annoy her throughout the year with prophecies of their deaths. Most of them she just makes up, but one or two are genuine every year just to mix things up.

Bad idea of the day, World's Greatest Detective edition: Riz is asked to solve a murder that seems to have all the classic detective tropes he truly loves involved; it's only partway through that he realizes that Fabian, with their friends' help, has staged it because they were all worried about Riz getting bored and spiraling between quests.

Bad idea of the day, I know Halloween was two days ago but I rewatched in the mouth of madness recently edition: The Bad Kids come to realize they are being controlled by mysterious and unknowable forces, and reach a decision: To cut off the flow of evil into the world, they are going to need to find and kill whatever a 'DM' is.

Bad idea of the day, I think we've all learned some valuable lessons here edition: The Dream Team realizes some kind of truly awful existence is sweeping over new york, in which every conversation and conflict ends with everyone having picked up a seemingly valuable but really quite shallow moral to the tale; they eventually figure out that it is in fact an attempt by a powerful sorcerer to turn the world into an after school special on this, a very special episode of The Unsleeping City.

Bad idea of the day, No Really A Starstruck ODYSSEY edition: The crew take a smash and grab job investigating missing people near a remote outpost, and discover a mad scientist conducting strange experiments but also offering great hospitality and food. Can the crew of the Wurst figure everything out before the more foolish of them (gunnie) end up as pigs?

Bad idea of the day, just how sure are you about this new god edition: In the summer before junior year, Fig and the Sig Figs record a music video for their new smash single. Watching it for the first time, Saint Kristen Applebees notices something in the video that noone else seems to be able to see: A familiar tabaxi, hanging out in the crowd watching the concert.

Bad idea of the day, that gum you like is going to come back in style edition: Fig at last discovers Porter's one flaw that makes him a truly intimidating barbarian with an unstoppable rage: Students putting chewed gum onto the bottom of their desks.

Bad idea of the day, ashes to ashes edition: Tired of Fig's chainsmoking cloves, Jawbone and Tracker stage an intervention to maybe at least talk her into some sort of rebellious vice that doesn't stink up the home of two werewolves with strong senses of smell at least

Bad idea of the day, my frog is real and so is magic edition: Adaine grows up without spellcasting ability at all until on the morning she starts at Aguefort, when on her way walking to school she runs across a frog who offers her magical powers she might be able to use to improve her life.

Bad Idea of the Day, You Wouldn't Steal a Car edition: Seeking to impress his father, Fabian gets into Solace's new age of piracy, selling illegal copies of movies, music and apps throughout Elmville. Will the lawsuits catch up to him in the end, or can his amass a horde of treasure suitable for a Seacaster?

Bad idea of the day, unfamiliar edition: At Some Point in the future, Jayhson feels a magical tug from afar and appears due to the whims of one of these 'humans' who has summoned a familiar. Can he kill this whizzered and get back to his family?

Bad idea of the day, I shot the Sheriff edition: Riz wakes up one fine morning in his office to discover Agent Angela Worrel came knocking in the night, and one of the traps his paranoid ass has set up for his office has killed her. Can he cover up this capital offense, or will Worrel finally succeed, posthumously, in getting at least one Bad Kid in jail long term?

Bad idea of the day, foreseeable problems edition: The Hangman gets impounded due to a series of unpaid parking tickets, leading Fabian to argue that the Hangman should count as a pet and not a vehicle. This results in him also getting tickets for having his dog off the leash.

Bad idea of the day, Heaven or Hell edition: Following an unfortunate but hopefully temporary death, Figueroth Faeth finds herself at the center of a dispute between the planes that threatens a war, as Hell wants its archdevil but Rock Heaven insists that they have a claim to everyone who has a rock album go platinum. Will this begin a true battle of the bands?

Bad idea of the day, I admit these are getting weirder edition: The bad kids wake up one morning in the midst of a campaign designed by just the worst kind of a DM, with railroaded sidequests, boring samey npcs, and combat every six feet. Can they figure out what's going on and escape back to Spyre before rocks fall and they all die?

Bad idea of the day, Lost Things and Misfit Toys edition: Irritated as hell at the blue fairy after ending up a puppet again, Pinocchio turns not to his new stepmother for power but instead someone else who dislikes the blue fairy, someone else who believes in the occasional misdirection, someone who is pretending to be the blue fairy's sister…. one "Gwendolyn Thistlehop".

Bad idea of the day, the WORST fusion edition: After she goes on a mission trip to parts unknown, all of the bad kids notice that Kristen is acting… odder than normal. This is because (burrow's end spoiler!) she's being piloted by chipmunks, of course.

#fantasy high #burrows end #a starstruck odyssey #never after #dimension 20 #fanfic #prompts

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maxwell-grant · 26 days

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What do you think of Vega/Balrog/Claw and where do you think his story should go if they brought him back for SF6?

Vega is a perfect fighting game villain because he is as frustrating to challenge as he is satisfying to defeat, and I do think he's a lot more compelling as an antagonistic force towards the likes of Chun-Li or Ken or Cammy than he is as a character unto himself. There's some reasons why the fights with Vega, in the animated movie or in II V or in the Udon comic, tend to be seen as the high points of Street Fighter adaptations.

Largely because as an antagonist to them, he is uniquely vicious and horrifying and murderous to an extent no other SF character is, he escalates any situation into a fight for survival just by walking into the room, while still occasionally allowing strange moments of poignancy due to his skewed honor and priorities, at least when Cammy is involved, and also being by design extremely satisfying to beat and watch get beaten. He is not just a punchable goon and smug champion like Balrog, he is also a creep and a serial killer, and an extremely privileged one at that, which makes beating and humiliating him a moral imperative on top of everything else. That, along with the fact that he's blatantly cheating with that claw and protecting his face with a mask, not just because he is desperate to preserve his good looks but because he doesn't even want to touch you as he kills you, is part of what makes him arguably the most punchable character in the series, or at least, the best designed for that purpose. That is, of course, if the player can catch him, which his whole playstyle is designed to avoid. Vega can and will fly circles around you as he wears you down, and like any nobleman, he will attack you from distances and positions you can't strike him back from, and it will wear on your patience, making it all the more satisfying if you do catch and smash him, which is still a big If.

And as a character onto himself, he's someone who's pretty much got his life figured out and as a result only truly wants what he can't have. He is a nobleman who's been gifted with wealth, power, skill, charm, intellect, beauty, and everything he could possibly desire, including the ability to kill people with impunity on a regular basis. He is a guy who lives his perfect life, but who still takes it upon himself to put on a mask and go out at night and viciously murder people he deems ugly, not just because their existence makes his world less perfect for it, but because championing the superiority of beauty by subjugating the ugly is the only form of meaning Vega can find in life. He lives reveling in his own futility and only comes alive when faced with a challenge he can take pleasure in vanquishing, which is right around the time when he either loses and vanishes to preserve his pride, or gets his face smashed or even just touched and flies into a searing rage, because of course deep down he will not accept being bested on the only battlefield that matters to him. He is a disgusting and violent hypocrite who has little need for nuance, and so far being this has worked out pretty great for him.

But he isn't just a violent horrible sadist, there is a specificity to him that makes him scarier than if he was just that. He's an intelligent, cultured and traveled man who has an extremely strong sense of justice guided by his thinking in extremely binary good-evil terms, it's just that he's traded his moral core with his aesthetic judgement. He's replaced the concept of good and evil with beauty and ugliness, which is not even that far off from the way the upper class treats those to begin with. He throws parties for the wealthiest and most powerful of society, but he resents the attendants, because he finds worship of money and power to be ugly. He throws his lot with Shadaloo because they enable his tendencies and afford to let him keep living his lifestyle, but he resents everyone he works with inside of it because they are ugly and crude (and he's frequently paired with Balrog, a guy who embodies everything he hates). He fights to save the Dolls and saves Cammy's life, but he is disgusted by the existence of the Dolls not because of the, everything involving their creation, but because he thinks it's a waste of beauty and is offended at the idea of turning those he deems beautiful into puppets. It is in fact pretty funny that he's appalled at Bison for what almost consist moral grievances but really are just aesthetic ones, while Bison himself, a guy who is literally made of evil, has frequently expressed annoyance and even a little bit of disgust at Vega's obsession, in a "I kill people too, you don't see me being such a weirdo about it" way.

And something I find interesting about Vega, and part of why I do think they miss the mark sometimes in making him a tad too much of a sadist or pervert (like his win quotes in V about bathing in blood, when the whole reason for the claw and mask used to be that he dislikes blood and touching the opponent directly) is that he isn't a vile murderous bastard just because, or just because of the trauma regarding his mother's murder, but because he is a nobleman who was raised to see the world the way a nobleman does. They've gone back and forth over the years on whether his mom's murder was at the hands of his birth father or stepfather, but a detail that tends to be glossed over is the fact that Vega gets his entire moral outlook from her and his environment:

He gains his looks and personality from his mother, with the addition of corrupted feelings planted in the back of his mind during his upbringing. Vega lost sight to the meaning of life at a tender age and started to cling to his mother's beauty, which grew into strong extremism. Those who were not deemed beautiful were not of value, and only the beautiful were worthy of survival. This is why in order to prove his strength Vega enters the arena as a prerequisite of beauty. - SF2 profile

He was born the only child of a beautiful noblewoman from a fallen house, and an ugly but wealthy man. His twisted thoughts, obsessions and value system regarding beauty were all handed down to him by his mother. Her twisted thoughts went unrewarded, as she was murdered by her own husband. Vega was profoundly affected by this, and this trauma is said to be the reason Vega insists on maiming his opponents. - 30th Anniversary Collection

He is a guy driven by the same standards of self-improvement and excellence through combat that drive most of the other characters, except in his case, he believes that beauty is the truest form of strength, that it is the only thing that matters, that the order of the world dictates that beautiful people must never lose, and the worst thing that ever happened to him was a triumph of uglyness so world-shattering that every imperfect-looking person in the world must pay for it. Like a ninja, he is true to his code, offering second chances to fighters he deems beautiful (if only so he may savor the honor of beautifully killing them at the right time), and he is true to his high society upbringing, in that he lives to uphold and enforce a disgusting prejudiced worldview that just so conveniently puts himself at the top of everyone else, a worldview he lubricates with the blood of his opponents and a worldview that crumbles as soon as the mask comes off. He is profoundly disgusting in a way that does a lot to reinforce how evil Shadaloo is for not just enabling him but directing him, and he remains the absolute worst person inside of it no matter how much he may think of himself as above Shadaloo.

And as for him in SF6? I could honestly do without seeing any major Shadaloo players show up for 6, or even much of any of the old characters period. I wouldn't be upset if he returned, given the wonderful job they've done so far on all the returning characters and new ones, I'm sure there would be room for them to do something interesting involving him and the Neo Shadaloo goobers trying to get away from the evil past of Shadaloo that Vega embodied, but I kinda don't want to see him again unless it's to see Chun-Li throw a couch at him again or lightning kick his face through a wall and off of a building, which is not just a high point of the series, but the most beautiful thing that ever involved Vega.

#replies tag #street fighter #fighting games #vega #chun-li #balrog #claw #capcom #street fighter 2

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arceespinkgun · 7 days

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The Sci-Fi Racism of MTMTE/LL

As I've reread MTMTE/LL I've been struck by the offensive content and messaging, particularly the constant ableism and racism. The ableism I've seen discussed (though I really do think it needs to be mentioned more because wow it is relentless and does not get better throughout the story), but the racist themes don't seem to be mentioned quite as often. I think this is for a lot of reasons, and one is probably that the cast being robots is sort of obscuring connections to real-world marginalized peoples.

But one of the most meaningful purposes for the sci-fi genre in general is to explore these issues through symbolism and allegory, placing real-world people in speculative scenarios, theorizing about the future etc. And I think when you look at what MTMTE/LL is saying about race with its themes it's a lot of extremely negative stuff—I doubt the messaging is intentional, but in my opinion that kinda makes it even more important to talk about it....

The Cold-Constructed

I'm going to begin this post by giving context for people who don't know anything about this story. In these series, it often comes up that there's more than one way for a transformer to be created. The main ways are forging, when the planet itself imbues the malleable metal of a protoform with a spark, and cold-construction, when an existing spark is split, put inside a photonic crystal, and put into a body that's pre-built. There's a lot of bigotry surrounding these origins for transformers, which is a clear parallel to real-world racism. I mean, you can see the word "apartheid" being used to describe the treatment of the cold-constructed, and the use of a slur for that group ("knockoffs") in the panel at the beginning of this post.

It's a commonly held belief that being forged is just better and being cold-constructed is just worse, that someone who's cold-constructed is just more likely to be morally bad, less able to do precise work, and more disposable than the forged. For example, at the beginning of MTMTE, Ratchet is worried about his hands locking up because he doesn't think they can be replaced by building new ones, that only forged hands are good enough for a great doctor.

There's a lot of internalized ableism that can be read into this too but this post is already so long I'm going to just focus on racism

The big end-of-the-season villain of MTMTE is Tyrest, the former Autobot Chief Justice turned neutral, who was the one who created the cold-construction process, and who also created a computer he thought could determine anyone's guilt. He used the computer during war crime trials he presided over, and discovered 100% of defendants who were declared guilty had been cold-constructed. Breaking from the guilt he felt, thinking he'd created an immoral, inferior race, he tries to kill all cold-constructed people.

Thwarting Tyrest's plot to kill the cold-constructed was the final battle of the first season of MTMTE.

The cold-constructed person letting the heroes know about Tyrest's plan in the panel right above this is Getaway. He is also an MTO. MTOs ("made-to-order soldiers") are an even lower class within the lower class that is cold-constructed. MTOs, as you'd expect, were bots built specifically as wartime fodder, sent out into the battlefield with a life expectancy in the range of seconds, often before their bodies and minds were even functional. As the war between Autobots and Decepticons raged on, they were even imbued with less and less cultural knowledge, because in the minds of their creators, what did it matter if they were going to immediately be killed anyway? Brainstorm's an MTO, too—in the panel at the start of this post, he's lying about attending protests in the name of the cold-constructed. He's masquerading as an ally there, but it's revealed soon after that he's also cold-constructed himself.

Let's pause for a moment. Assuming you know nothing about MTMTE/LL, what do you think the story would depict when it comes to this oppressed race? I feel like I would expect that the beliefs of the main characters that these people are inferior and immoral would be challenged! I'd expect the cold-constructed and MTOs especially to be saving the day. I'd expect an exploration into why 100% of bots found guilty in those trials were of this marginalized group—a discussion of a prison pipeline that benefits the privileged, maybe? Signs that the computer used was biased because it was created by someone privileged and programmed with biases? Maybe a discussion of how the oppressed were pushed to commit crimes to survive because of the systems keeping them marginalized?

Do these things happen? Er... well... not really, no. Shockingly, Tyrest's assumptions are never challenged despite his villain status and a lot of time being devoted to thwarting his plot? And the people who defeat him, like Tailgate, Rodimus, and Magnus, were all forged. Tyrest was Magnus's former boss and mentor, and Magnus realizing he needs to be stopped is super important, but Magnus never challenges any of these beliefs about the cold-constructed or anything even though Magnus's entire personality involves being super focused on ethics?

I also think it's notable that when Tyrest activates the killswitch, the only characters from the main cast who are affected are Chromedome, Brainstorm, and Getaway. Chromedome and Brainstorm are Autobots who worked together in a system that forcibly lobotomized thousands of people. (There's a lot I could say about the minor and other characters JRo chose to be affected by the killswitch, like how many of them are evil and how they're all treated by different narratives, but that's beyond the scope of this post.)

Getaway, while not having done anything immoral yet by this point in the story, goes on to become a central villain. In fact, Getaway is one of the most despised characters in the entire TF franchise because of how depraved and manipulative he becomes. His arc involves a self-righteous crusade to remove Rodimus and Megatron from the Lost Light and show up Rodimus by completing his quest before him. Getaway is a self-admitted groomer and murderer who does things like murdering his second-in-command by ripping him apart, tearing his head off with the spine still attached and getting energon all over the floor. Oh, and brainwashing hundreds of people.

Pictured: the brain stems of crew members Getaway kills in just one of his many crimes

When Getaway's eventually gruesomely killed, it's all forged people who come to confront him (Rodimus, Cyclonus, and Whirl). I think fans might say that this couldn't be racist messaging because Rodimus comes to think better of killing Getaway and tries to save him, but then Getaway still tries to kill Rodimus and Cyclonus and is killed by Whirl for that... but like, imagine if these characters weren't robots and were instead real people. If the horrible villain was someone from a marginalized group (who had even been tortured for it by a genocidal villain) and all the people who confront him and the person who eventually kill him were people from a privileged group, there would be issues with that. Plus, Rodimus saved Getaway to be "better" than him morally.

I "loved" how right before Getaway's attempted suicide and then actual death, the narrative makes sure to underline that he's an MTO, which makes it impossible to not think about MTOs during this scene

Plus, Getaway's even something like a class traitor. He wants to be validated by Primus so bad, he teams up with Tyrest, the genocidal guy who had tortured him earlier!!! I thought this was a bizarre series of writing decisions to make regarding a character who was introduced as a victim and part of an oppressed group.

One moment that shocked me occurs when we get the first exploration of what being an MTO means. Basically, there's some convoluted sci-fi crisis happening, and everybody needs to reveal their origins. Some characters, like Getaway and Riptide, talk about being MTOs.

Nautica, a very consistent moral voice throughout this story (whose points are often ignored by other characters unfortunately but still), is also in the room. She's from Caminus, a colony world, and missed the whole War. A large part of her story arc will involve how she's not used to experiencing war and death. So does she have some big concerns about Cybertron's culture upon hearing this? Nope:

She would not fucking say that

Instead, her reaction is to immediately look at the guy who started the War, Megatron, and credit him for being responsible for so many lives. What. She's also weirdly not fazed when learning about how the superiors of MTOs eventually just stopped supplying them with cultural knowledge because it was expected they'd immediately die after coming online, and these horrible facts are really not discussed again:

I also want to point out that Riptide is a good character who's an MTO who in my opinion really doesn't do anything immoral, but he was still aligned with Getaway's mutiny initially and is quite literally diagnosed with stupid, which doesn't do a lot to challenge prevailing assumptions about MTOs in Cybertronian culture.

Brainstorm's status as an MTO becomes a plot point again during his character arc, in which he invents time travel and tries to go back in time to prevent the War in order to save everyone who died during it. When he sees that it seems like nothing he does is preventing the War, he resorts to trying to kill Megatron, but he's easily talked out of it because he doesn't want to murder anyone.

On paper, it sounds like Brainstorm's goodness might disprove cultural assumptions about people like him. But I do want to point out that when Nautica (who again, is a strong moral voice) feels very betrayed by all the secrets Brainstorm kept from her, Ratchet convinces her to give him a second chance by pointing out that since Brainstorm's an MTO, if he'd prevented the War, he'd have been erased from existence. This is portrayed as a selfless, moral act, and not as a self-destructive cry for help, which I think is a poor choice, but worse, the narrative never even brings up the fact that Brainstorm would've not only erased himself, but all MTOs!

Okay, if bigoted assumptions about the morality and mentality of MTOs isn't something effectively challenged by the story, well, are the claims that forged people are physically more skilled ever challenged? Not really, no. Genuinely, I don't think that ever comes up. Megatron does perform a spark surgery somehow better than actual trained doctors First Aid and Velocity could do near the story's end, but Megatron's someone who was neither forged nor cold-constructed. He has a forged spark in a pre-built body, which given that bigoted assumptions about the cold-constructed are never really addressed by the narrative, lends itself to jokes like, "The cold-constructed body killed 100 billion people, but the forged spark was super sad about it!"

Rodimus describes Megatron's origin

EDITED TO ADD: There is also a skilled cold-constructed Decepticon neurosurgeon, Spinister... but the way other characters, even his closest friends, consistently treat him is that he is an idiot in every other respect in a way that feels very ableist. It's similar to the way Riptide is treated and his portrayal falls short of challenging the stereotypes, but even more extreme (personally, nothing Spinister ever did or said actually came across as stupid to me, but I'm fairly certain that his actions are supposed to seem that way).

Organic Life

Surprisingly given that this is a story about transformers, I actually think some of the most racist messaging in these series has to do with organic beings, not even with the robots! Some of the most shockingly racist moments, at least.

Something that's often discussed in MTMTE/LL is a concept called "technoism," the belief that mechanical beings are superior to organic ones, and that mechanical beings should commit genocide against organic species. This is a belief tied to Decepticons, and Megatron was the first big proponent of this idea. In fact, Megatron is stated to have killed 100 billion (!!!) organics, including driving multiple species to extinction.

Tarn (evil leader of the Decepticon Justice Division) recounts Megatron's desire to purge all organic life

Now, I feel like people who've read this story might be surprised to see that I feel this concept was handled in ways that promote racist messaging, considering the story repeatedly points out that technoism is bad and that Megatron was wrong. Some portion of Megatron's character development involves instead choosing to save organic life.

Unfortunately, I really felt this was extremely clumsily handled. A major Decepticon character who remains a Decepticon, Fulcrum, is especially disgusted by organic life. In one of the most shocking moments in this entire story, Fulcrum basically tells Tarn, "Life was so much better back when we Decepticons did ethnic cleansing, before mean bullies like you ruined it":

The shocking thing to me is that this is portrayed as a... noble act, I suppose I could put it? Everything is framed as if Fulcrum is doing something heroic in this moment. Disconcertingly, after this moment, Fulcrum is repeatedly used by the narrative as a sort of moral voice when talking to his fellow Decepticons. Whenever they're doing something unethical, he's almost always the first to speak against it. Yeah, ethnic cleansing guy, pre-any character development, is used as a moral compass.

Now, if his belief that organics are inferior and disgusting and deserve to die was challenged and he grew, that would be one thing. But he still finds them just as gross by the end of the entire story.

Similarly, another Decepticon who gets to team up with the heroes and get a happy ending is Nickel, herself a former member of the Decepticon Justice Division, and a strong believer in technoism. She joined the DJD to get revenge against organics who destroyed the colony she comes from. Even by the end of the story, it's clear that she despises organic life.

The very strange thing is that Nickel and Fulcrum are never shown to change these philosophies, but then join the fight against functionists who want to cleanse the universe of non-mechanical life... but there's nothing ever shown to indicate that they wouldn't agree with that plan themselves...?

Another moment that displays issues with how this story handles these concepts is a little interlude with the organic-operated Galactic Council:

On the surface, not much is happening, but this is one of my most hated moments. Why? Because the implication is that organic life, this group of beings that Megatron committed staggering, multiple genocides against, is now preventing his character growth journey. That the narrative's taking time to dedicating a whole scene to showing oh, organics can be bad and extort people too! There's "moral complexity" here!!! I really hope I don't need to explain why that's gross and extremely dangerous to apply as a lesson to any sort of real-world situation.

Other

There are other details in this series that feel racist that wouldn't necessarily fit into the other sections of this post.

I wanted to talk about Ten. Ten is a legislator, a non-transformer robot originally programmed by Tyrest to be a non-sentient law enforcer. However, after Tyrest's defeat, Swerve reprograms Ten to be his... well... slave. I mean it, Swerve makes him a worker at the bar who Swerve doesn't pay. Other people like Ratchet and Ultra Magnus try to convince Swerve he shouldn't treat Ten like this, but that isn't enough to get Swerve to stop.

Worse, Whirl etches graffiti onto Ten's back saying he "failed the Ambus Test," which is a test that measures sapience in-universe.

Now, eventually Swerve and everybody else does accept that Ten is sapient and Swerve feels bad about what he did to him, but Ten continues to be treated badly in general by people like Rodimus.

When Ten later dies, no time is spent mourning him. Also, nobody ever removed that damn statement that was etched on his back.

I also wanted to mention Drift. He was originally created by writer Shane McCarthy in the IDW comics before these series, and he's heavily Asian-coded, particularly Japanese-coded. Unfortunately, Drift was considered a real Poochie the Dog of TF for a long time by fans, a real Mary Sue, you could say, and it wasn't until MTMTE/LL when James Roberts began writing him that his reputation changed for the better.

...Unfortunately, included in JRo's new direction for Drift's character is repeated mocking of his spirituality. This does get slightly less extreme over time, but that doesn't erase how for the entire first season especially he's made the butt of jokes for it, and the end of MTMTE/LL even confirms that his beliefs were wrong, essentially. It confirms that the gods he believed in both didn't exist and were heavily morally compromised. Combine this with the fact that Drift is so Asian-coded and I feel that it comes across as racist.

Worse, while Drift already had a backstory, JRo wrote a new one for him that can be read to play into offensive, Orientalist stereotypes. JRo shows that Drift was originally a drug addict who earned money by renting out his body parts, an act that feels like a robot equivalent of prostitution. JRo even made jokes about this on his Twitter account, joking about Drift literally renting out his "thighs" for people.

None of this surprises me necessarily especially given the long history of English Orientalism, but it still sucks, and fandom's fixation on this aspect of Drift's character also sucks (especially the tendency to make this prostitution allegory literal), especially for someone like me who is part Asian.

Another, pretty bizarre and racist thing in Lost Light specifically that I don't really know how to categorize involves a minor villain from that series. When Nautica wants to bring her best friend, Skids, back from the dead, she goes to someone who claims she'll take Nautica's grief in return for using a Cybertronian artifact to bring Skids back to life.

This villainous character's name is... sigh... Mengel. If you don't know, Mengel is named after real-world Nazi Josef Mengele, infamous for the horrific human experimentation he performed on prisoners in one of the Auschwitz concentration camps. As if this weren't in bad taste already, none of the real-world crimes against humanity have anything to do with the character in this comic I'm talking about—the character Mengel was named this just for shock value and so readers would have the immediate realization that she's an evil scientist.

But this really bad taste isn't even the main thing I wanted to say about her. The main thing I wanted to point out is that she's actually part of a different race of mechanical beings that Cybertronians consider inferior. Even the generally very morally good Nautica (and of course, this is a belief that is not challenged in any way)!

Plus, this villain has darker "skin" than most of the transformers present in these series, and she has buck teeth with a tooth gap. All of these details combined other her in a racialized way, and I hope it's obvious how disturbing it is to pair these traits with the name of a real-world virulently racist Nazi historical figure.

Conclusion and TL;DR

In this story, it's not enough that a genocidal person like Tyrest is a bad guy or that the genocidal Megatron changes his ways when even the characters often cast as moral voices in most situations like Ratchet, Nautica, and Fulcrum have racist assumptions about the world that the narrative just doesn't really make any attempt to disprove or challenge them on. Or worse, that the narrative sometimes seems to validate with characters like Getaway, (sigh) Mengel, or the Galactic Council. And on a personal note, it's especially frustrating to me as someone who loves characters like Nautica. If she appears a surprising number of times in this post, it's because I'm attentive to her and how the story uses her, because I really like her!!!

Now, obviously, I don't think that stories have to address and defy all bigoted ideas and statements that inform the culture they're set in. But I believe that the people behind these series think the messages of these series are anti-racist and anti-fascist. In fact, one of the issues was even titled "This machine kills fascists," real-world slogan of singer Woodie Guthrie. Plus, I think it might be easy to think that with so much representation of, say, gay and trans people, that this story would have more positive messaging, especially when villains include racists and fascists. But I think MTMTE/LL show a real lack of understanding of the roots of these real-world issues and often reinforce the beliefs that contribute to them. In fact, when I reread these comics, every time some racist idea that's never ever challenged or adequately discussed came up, I tallied it up, then converted the number to dollars and donated the amount to helping displaced Palestinian children. I would love it if I could inspire some fans to donate as well! There’s a wide range of vetted links here.

I'm being so critical of these series not only because I rarely ever see the racism pointed out, but also because it's important to note it so these issues can be avoided in the future. In these comics, I actually think it would have been very easy to avoid these problems that plague the narrative. The bigotry behind Tyrest's philosophy could've been pointed out, maybe even by the people most affected by it. Drift's new backstory didn't have to be one featuring Orientalist tropes. The central villain didn't have to be someone who was a marginalized victim. Characters like Fulcrum didn't have to be portrayed as moral voices while simultaneously in the same breath talking about ethnic cleansing like it's a good thing, and they could have grown and changed in a natural way! etc. None of these things had to be like this.

#transformers idw #maccadam #my analysis #racism #negative #there's so much more but I didn't want this to be even longer than it is #long post #like really long

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thetypedwriter · 8 months

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The Secret History Book Review

My biggest complaint of the last few books I’ve read is that there hasn’t been enough character development. There’s been plenty of plot, ample action, and steamy sex scenes, but nowhere near enough character progression and interactions.

Thankfully, The Secret History has character development in droves. One might argue that character interaction is the only thing The Secret History has and they wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

The Secret History by Donna Tartt is a book I’ve been wanting to read for a very long time. It has a host of things I really adore: dark academia, a close-knit friend group, an appreciation for Greek and Roman literature, and complex characters whose morally gray choices make them intriguing, yet grotesque.

The whole plot of The Secret History can be boiled down to this: California outcast, Richard Papen, decides that attending a rural Vermont college called Hampden is the solution to all his life’s problems and an escape from his abusive father and careless mother.

There, he becomes intrigued by a secluded group of students that study Greek under the illustrious tutelage of Professor Julian Morrow.

Obsessed, he eventually gains entrance into this sequestered group and becomes embroiled in the drama, tension, and attraction that saturates the group members at all times.

A number of the group attempts to revive a bacchanal, returning to their violent and primal urges. During a successful bout of this Greek tradition, a local farmer is brutally murdered–by them. Citing that they were out of their minds, they bury the man and go about their lives with the public completely unaware.

However, one member of this special group, Edmund “Bunny” Corcoran, catches on and becomes increasingly agitated and volatile. Not only because he was left out of the horrific activities, but also because a man was killed and no one was facing consequences.

Fearing that he’ll tattle on them and expose their crime, Henry, one member of the group, convinces the others to kill Bunny.

They succeed, rather easily actually, and what follows is the disintegration of their lives as a result. It is a brutal and raw dismantling of their mental health, their relationships, their futures, and their happiness, all derived from this one act that seemed too easy at the time.

Seeing as Bunny is killed only a third of the way into the book, I thought much more was in store for the characters plot-wise. But instead of focusing on crazy shenanigans and shallow action, Tartt devotes her time to the characters and the slow loss of their humanity and grasp on the present through a deluge of addiction, bad choices, and gnawing guilt.

The process is so slow and grueling that you don’t even notice how terrible things are for the character’s until it’s too late.

The second thing I’ll note outside of the plot is Tartt’s writing. I think she’s a great writer.

She has some really poignant lines that made my breath grow thin. They were so beautiful and apt for the particular moment in the story which made me really appreciate her writing style.

However, her writing was a lot more contemporary and easy to follow than I was expecting for someone who garnered so much attention for her novel The Goldfinch.

The characters themselves were the stars of this novel. My biggest criticism of Fourth Wing, the last book I read, was that all of the characters were either perfect angels or the most vehement of villains. The Secret History is the opposite.

All of the characters make abhorrent choices, but despite this I don’t think they’re evil (even though you very much could categorize them this way).

The reason I don’t automatically see them as terrible people is because Tartt does such a good job of highlighting their humanity. She describes their frustrations, desires, interests, and the good moments of genuine trust, friendship, and affection between the group and not just the duress, ire, and violence. This dichotomy is difficult to achieve and yet Tartt does it so well.

My only slight criticism of this book is Richard, the main character. Richard is very much a bystander to the events around him and seeing the novel through his eyes is both enriching and frustrating. Richard, far more than the others, seems closed off, reticent, and ignorant.

As the last member to join Julian’s select sect, he comes into the group not quite knowing all the nuances and histories that the others do.

This makes the reader simultaneously feel like they’re on the journey with Richard, but also out of the loop for many of the inside jokes, pointed comments, or tense altercations, especially as Richard himself doesn’t always ask for clarification, details, or explanations.

Richard, while he does take part in the murder of Bunny, isn’t involved in the bacchanal and is only included in fragments in the drama to come afterwards. It’s an intriguing part on Tartt’s behalf that she chose to write from Richard’s POV, one I’m not sure I agree with.

The other characters outside of Richard are both fleshed out and oddly shallow. I know characteristics of all of the members of the group, but would have difficulty describing any of them to an outsider who hasn’t read the story.

There’s Henry, Bunny, Charles, Camilla, and Francis. As a writer myself I know how difficult it is to flesh out multiple characters. I don’t think Tartt did the worst job, but I also think she could have done better at giving me an idea of who these people are at their core.

There are a slew of side characters that expand the setting, breathe life into the school, and make for more robust conversations and interactions, but none of them are super significant.

However, I don’t get the impression that they’re meant to be. They’re side characters, stay side characters, and play their role as needed. The main characters of the group are what matter and that is shown bright and clear with every page.

The Secret History is a good read. I’m not quite sure what expectations I had of this book and if they lived up to it, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

It wasn’t a frenetic read that made me unable to put it down, but every time I picked up the book, I found myself engaged and completely sucked in.

Recommendation: If you liked We Were Villains by M.L. Rio and Ninth House by Leigh Barugo, then you will like The Secret History. In fact, you might like The Secret History even more because it’s considered the original of all these dark academia stories to begin with. Try it. You won’t regret it. I know I certainly didn’t.

Score: 8/10

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