#like i miss my best friend when he wasnt evil/gone and i barely remember him bc of my memory loss

[puhpandas]

what happens after u spend a year mulling over whether the guy who tried to kill you was your best friend or not and you finally reunite and it turns out it was never actually him and after the initial relief and reuniting you have some things to talk out

#drawing tag #beckory #gregory #tony #au #i think tony wouldn’t usually do this #but gregory makes his usually organized thoughts run haywire and his impulsiveness turn way up #tony realizes how different he gets and it makes him more nervous #this is with a specific au in mind btw #like where they go through yearning #like i miss my best friend when he wasnt evil/gone and i barely remember him bc of my memory loss #right

[willofhounds]

Captured beast within a human skin ch 10

Newt's POV

Chasing down his case wasnt very difficult. It was too however by that time. Kowalski had already opened his case. Several of his creatures had escaped.

Newt had the scents of each of his creatures memorized. If it wasnt for Tina Goldstein following him he would have changed to find them. He knew better than to do it in front of one who was not a skinwalker. She would never understand.

Kowalski he found had been bitten by his murtlap. The poor thing had been terrified when he put her back in his case.

They were taken back to Goldstein's apartment. Newt was treated to one of the best meals since he left the pack. Queenie was a good cook and had a kind heart. Tina, he believed also had a good heart but she wouldn't disregard the laws.

When the two sisters went to sleep he treated Jacob and did a headcount. Three creatures were missing. The only question was if he would take Jacob with him.

That decision was made for him. Jacob wouldn't let him go on alone. It was either go with the muggle or wait till morning. Newt didn't have it in him to attack the man.

Catching his Erumpent had been more difficult than he anticipated. Poor Jacob had nearly been trampled. Then they had gone back into his case and someone had locked it from the outside.

That had caused immediate panic in him. He hated being trapped by another person. Wolves weren't meant to be caged. They were meant to run free.

Jacob watched him pace in the shack inside the case. Agitation rolled off of him in waves. When a knock came at the top of his case.

The next moment he was up and out of his case. They were in a meeting area of MACUSA. Dozens of witches and wizards surrounded them.

Newt helped Jacob out of the case trying very hard not to go for his wand. A voice said, "Scammander."

"Theseus Scammander? The war hero?"

"No this is his little brother."

Newt greeted with a smile full of teeth, "Hello, Minister."

The man seemed taken aback by his boldness. The Minister had never been around him close to the full moon. Or when his wolf was so close to the surface.

Unlucky for him both were true right now. It made him bolder and more ready for a fight. He still had not forgiven the Ministry for killing his dragons.

The Minister shot back at the other officials as Newt examined the projection in front of them, "No this is his little brother. A creature lover. What are you doing here Scammander?"

Newt quipped, "I'm here to buy a birthday present."

"What are you really doing here Scammander?"

He grin became nearly feral at the question. It caused the man to step back.

A woman asked drawing his attention back to the projection, "Mr. Scammander do you know which of your creatures did this?"

Newt growled low in his throat, "You know that this wasnt done by one of my creatures. Look at those marks. Only one thing could have done this. An obscurus."

All the ministers took a large step back. Fear was in their eyes. They knew what an obscurus was and what they could do.

Picquery snapped, "That's impossible! There are no obscurus in New York."

A wolfish growl escaped him. He hated being called a liar. If she wanted to have a wolf problem she would keep pushing.

There was a flash of recognition in her eyes. Almost like she knew what was going through his mind.

She ordered, "Impound that case, Graves!"

"Wait," he snarled, "No. Give that back."

Gellert used wandless magic to call Newt's case. There was no stopping what happened next. Unbridled fury filled the wolf.

His normal green eyes became the amber of the wolf. His bones began to shift into longer legs. Black fur began to sprout from his body. His canines sharpened into the fangs of a wolf.

Newt stood in his full wolf form fangs bared and ready for battle. Gellert in Graves's body looked dumbfounded. His betrothed had only seen him in his wolf form once.

At that time he was still a puppy. He had grown since that day. Muscles had grown more defined both from running with the pack and from the war.

Picquery shouted as all those in the conference drew their wands, "Don't! It's a skinwalker! Do you want to have two wars on your hands? Grindelwald is enough of a problem."

She knew what he was? How?

Then the realization hit him. She just revealed what he was to the IWC. Skinwalkers were supposed to be extinct in the eyes of wizards.

Piquery then turned back to him as the wands began to lower. She sighed, "Mr. Graves ask him to return to his human form."

That set off alarm bells. Graves was a skinwalker? Then he remembered that this man was not Graves. It was Gellert in the American's skin.

It was possible for skinwalkers of different packs to communicate. Though it was infinitely more difficult than if they were of the same pack. Or even if they were of the same clan.

There was no tale-tell pressure on his mind. Baring his fangs he kept his gaze on his case. The only way he was changing back was if he had his case.

Gellert looked from him to the case before lowering it slowly to the ground. The moment it touched the ground Newt lunged for it. There wasn't a stumble most people would have done but there was a surprise.

Suspicion went through Picquery's eyes as Newt carried away his case. Only once he was back in front of Jacob did he change back.

There was still more amber than green in his eyes. His wolf was just beneath the surface.

His hand was on the handle of his wand. Just because his case was back in his possession didn't mean he trusted any of them. They could attack him at any moment. If they killed him that would start a war with his clan.

Picquery ordered, "Aurors take Mr. Kowalski and Miss Goldstein away. Oblivate the no magic and leave Miss Goldstein to an interrogation room. I wish to speak to them separately. Mr. Scammander I will speak with you first. Graves show him to a room."

Gellert replied, "Yes, Madame President."

A warm hand enclosed around his upper arm. It took everything in him not to snarl again. Fighting any longer would not help him or his creatures.

He was led in a separate direction from Jacob and Tina. There was anger in him from Tina almost making him lose his creatures. Still, he didn't want her hurt or in trouble. All he wanted was to release Frank.

They went down into the depths of the building. Passing Aurors who barely gave them a glance.

Newt was pushed firmly into an interrogation room and Gellert followed. Gellert questioned, "Why are you here, Mr. Scammander?"

Newt responded his amber eyes holding his anger, "I am here for a birthday present as I have said. You might have a different face but you cannot change your scent."

A smile crossed the man's face even as his face remained the same. Gellert said, "I should have known you recognized my scent the moment you saw me yesterday. Just as I recognized you even though it has been several years. Though the amber eyes are new. Let me see your green eyes, Liebling."

Different face and voice but the same man he met as a child. Could the man he was betrothed to really do what they said he did?

They were interrupted by the door opening. Picquery strode into the room her eyes on both of men.

She ordered coldly, "Graves leave. I wish to talk to Scammander alone."

Gellert moved away from him and nodded to Picquery. As he did so Newt caught an underlay in his scent. It was the dark dangerous scent of an obscurus. This man had been close to the child. Close enough to touch.

Gellert left without another word or look in his direction. Once they were alone she put up privacy and silencing wards.

Once they were set Piquery said, "You might not know this but all members of the ICW know of the skinwalkers. How skinwalker are still alive. We keep it from most wizards so as to avoid our right war. We stay out of their way they stay out of ours."

It must have been the alphas of the clans' decisions. Only those who needed to know knew about it. That explained a lot.

As he wasnt the only black wolf of the pack he didn't have to know yet. Sherman's time was fast approaching, however. When he died Newt would have to return to the pack.

Newt sighed tired his heart rate calming and his eyes returning to their normal green color, "You recognized me for what I am. How?"

"Percival Graves," she answered, "He is a skinwalker. We went to school together and were good friends. For some time now I have had my suspicions about the one wearing his face. I just didn't have any proof that it wasnt him beyond my instincts. When he did not reach out to you in the way only skinwalkers can I knew the truth. That man is not Percival Graves."

Newt leaned back on his heels. MACUSA even at their President's word would not arrest someone without proof. Gellert simply not using the normal way of communicating wasnt enough.

They would have to duel and reveal him that way. Otherwise, it was their word against his. Few would give any credit to his word. To them, he was a wolf. Little better than the creatures that resided within his case.

Newt froze. That was it. Swooping evil would give them an advantage in a fight against Gellert. As much as he hated to there wasnt a choice here.

If he wanted to find the obscurus he had to remove the competition from the fight. Gellert would not only get in the way. He might actually hurt the child. That Newt could not allow.

#fantastic beasts fanfiction #fanfiction #wolf newt #black wolf #gray wolf #tyler creed/newt #good gellert #gellert grindelwald #credence fantastic beasts

[mentalmimosa]

long night in the castle of lions

Sometimes, the nights in the castle are long. Long and filled with a sort of infinite quiet, the sound of universe at rest that presses in from all sides. No noise from inside the ship can compete with it, that silence, not Lance’s snores or the singsong Hunk uses to talk himself into sleep: It’s ok. It’s all right. Everything is gonna be fine.

It isn’t. Keith’s pretty sure of that. Lions or legendary whatever notwithstanding, it feels like they’re pretty much screwed.

Galactic evil? Weapons that can blow away worlds? What kind of chance do they have against any of that?

Not good. Not fucking good.

He can hide those thoughts during the day, when they’re out and about saving the innocent and protecting what’s good, what seems right. But at night, when he has only the shadows and his own head for company, those thoughts drown him out, pull him knee deep into despair.

He doesn’t sleep much in the castle. He envies everybody who can: Pidge, who can curl into any corner and be asleep in ten ticks. Allura and Coran, who slept here for 10,000 years, for gods’ sake. And Shiro, their great and glorious leader, who strolls into the lounge for breakfast every morning looking like he’s just had a strong, solid eight.

“Good morning,” he’ll say to each of them, a smile and a pat on the shoulder for each. “How’d you sleep?”

Keith doesn’t bother to lie anymore, to put on an act of at ease and well-rested.

“Like shit, Shiro,” he’ll say, not bothering to raise his head from the purple stuff that passes for coffee. “Like absolute shit.”

The first time he’d said it, Shiro had startled, his hold on Keith’s shoulder going sudden and tight.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Didn’t get a wink.”

“Well,” Shiro had stumbled, “you, ah--did you try meditation?”

“Didn’t bother.” He’d looked up, looked back to see Shiro’s face drawn up and worried. “I never sleep a lot anyway. Even on Earth. I’m fine.”

Shiro hadn’t bought it then, didn’t buy it now, but Keith’s stuck to it, this little shade of untruth. No, he’s never taken refuge in sleep like some people but he’s never found it so elusive before, so willing to slip out of his grasp. After a while, he even finds himself missing his nightmares: the ones about crashing, the ones about falling, the ones about his mom’s voice. They feel like old friends, those dreams, that he’s no longer allowed to see.

And he’s tired. Dear gods, he’s exhausted. But even the softest Altean pillow and the pressure of darkness can’t kick him over to sleep, not the kind he needs, the kind that lets him sink into the bed and lasts for more than 20 minutes. That sort of sleep, it feels like, is long fucking gone.

*****

One night, or what passes for it in space, there’s a knock on his door.

That’s how he knows it isn’t Coran or Allura; they’d have gone straight for the chime. It’s not Hunk, either, because he favors shave and a haircut , and it’s not Lance because he’s a dick and would’ve pounded with both fists. And shouted. He’d definitely have shouted.

Pidge or Shiro, then.

And unless Pidge’s shot up a foot in the last few hours, the tapping is too tall for him. So.

“It’s alright, Shiro,” he calls, waving on the small bunkside lamp. “You can come in.”

The door slides open and Shiro steps in, frowning. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Right.”

It takes Keith a second to realize that Shiro looks weird. Well, not weird, but a lot less formal than usual; less like a Garrison Leader and more like a person. A person who’s wearing--

“Are those pajamas ?”

Shiro looks down at himself, looks back up at Keith, bemused. “To the best of my knowledge, yes. They’re not a matched set, but since it’s what I tend to sleep in, I think calling them pajamas is fair.”

“Oh. Sure.”

“I mean, if anyone’s attire is cause for comment, I think it’s yours. Aren’t those the clothes you wore today? And yesterday? And the day before that?”

“I put them through the ‘fresher every morning,” Keith says, defensive. “It’s not like I’m wandering around unwashed or something.”

“No, it’s”--Shiro holds his hands up, a little sign of surrender--“I wasn’t suggesting you were. Do you...is this what you wear every night?”

Keith bristles. “Yes. So?”

“So, maybe you’d have an easier time sleeping if you, you know, let yourself relax.”

“I am relaxed!”

Shiro’s mouth curves. “Yeah, obviously. Look at you. You’re the picture of rest and relaxation, Keith.”

Gods, what is it with this guy? “What are you doing here?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Ugh.” Keith folds his arms across his chest, summons his best scowl. “You don’t need to be.”

“You haven’t slept in weeks. And that’s according to you. You don’t see a cause for concern?”

“I told you. I’m fine.”

Shiro steps towards the bunk, the lamp catching his face, the dark light of his eyes. “And I’m here as your friend to tell you you’re not. What happened with you and the Green Lion today?”

There’s a rush of heat in his face. “We--I lost track of it for a minute, that’s all.”

“And nearly crashed into its side. You could’ve been hurt. So could Pidge, along with both of your lions.”

“But I didn’t. Everything turned out fine. We got home in one piece, didn’t we?”

Shiro’s voice is terribly gentle. “Keith.”

“What?”

“That was just today. Last week, you almost went headfirst into that asteroid. And right before that, you--”

“Gods, shut up!” Keith says. There are tears in his eyes, tears, in front of freaking Shiro. It’s fucking horrific. “You don’t have to--I know I’ve screwed up, ok? I know each and every time I’ve made a mistake.”

“Keith--”

“I know I’m a fuck-up, alright? I know that, I know, you don’t have to come in here in the middle of the fucking night to remind me!”

“Hey,” Shiro says, a shot of steel in his voice, “no way. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Really? Really? Right. Sure, Shiro.”

“Damn it, don’t--!”

He shoves the tears from his cheeks and flies up, ready to punch Shiro if he has to, shove him out into the corridor, anything to make him go away. “Stop talking!” he barks. “Just shut up and get out of here!”

“No!” Shiro shouts, getting right in his face. “I’ve tried not talking to you about this, and you know what, that didn’t work! You’re still dead on your feet all the time, you still look sick, you still feel like you’re worthless and you think that you’re holding us back but you’re not, Keith! You’re not!”

Keith bares his teeth, balls his fists. “How the fuck do you know how I feel, huh?”

“How do I--?” Shiro looks furious. “What part of there are no secrets between paladins did you not understand?”

“What?”

“The mind-link,” Shiro says through gritted teeth. “When we’re Voltron. Do you not grok how it works?”

Keith snarls, tries to take a step back, but Shiro has him by the elbows like a vise. “You’ve been digging around in my head, then? That’s great. That’s real fucking leader-ly of you.”

“I’m not--I’m not digging around in your head! You’re broadcasting those feelings like they’re on a freaking repeater!”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.” Shiro’s eyes are angry, his grip unrelenting. “Gods, don’t you see? The more tired you get, the louder your thoughts are. Your brain doesn’t have the energy to hold them back.”

There’s a sink of fear in Keith’s gut. He’s afraid it shows in his face; raises his voice just in case. “Well,” he spits, “that doesn’t mean you have to listen!”

“You’re impossible!” Shiro says through clentched teeth. “Honestly, gods, Keith, you’re the most--!”

There are a lot of things that rattle around in Keith’s head on those long nights in the Castle of Lions. Some nights, he can’t crawl out of sadness, can’t shake himself free of worry and doubt. Some nights, there’s fear: the shriek of Zarkon’s fighters; the screams of dying planets; the way the Red Lion trembles when he’s wounded.

But on some nights, when the silence is at its most still, Keith thinks about Shiro. Not the man who strides about with so much certainty, the man who never loses his cool, the man whose resolution, whose steadiness has held their shaky team together time and strange time again.

No, he thinks about the man he’d seen on the table on Earth, the man whose shackles he’d broken, the man who he’d half-carried, half-dragged into the open air, to the speeder, to safety. He remembers the weight of Shiro’s head on his shoulder and the stutter of his breath, the way he’d clung to Keith without reservation or shame, the soft grateful sounds he’d made against Keith’s neck as they staggered towards safety and away from chains and from fear:

Thank you, he’d murmured, his voice like a bruise. Whoever you are. Thank you.

And those thoughts slip sometimes into a dream, an imagined hour in his bed with Shiro bent over him, kissing him, petting at his skin until he cries out and making those same grateful sounds as he pushes into Keith’s body, fills him until there’s no room for thinking, no room for worry, no worry for something like doubt.

Keith, this dream-Shiro will murmur, his voice like a bruise. Thank you. Thank you.

On those longest of nights, the sweetest, he’ll take himself in hand and forget to muffle his cries. He’ll imagine the shape of Shiro’s mouth, the taste of its weight upon his, and stroke himself as Shiro would, slow and steady, each touch perfect and measured until it’s not, until they can’t be, until they’re fucking in earnest and all words are gone and there is, in the whole goddamn universe, only the two of them left, spend supernovas panting against each other’s hot skin.

And then, with the dream pulled about him, he’ll sleep, fall into a soft solid hour of respite but then awake feeling guilty, so fucking guilty, his flesh crawling in shame, and his eyes never close again after that.

Has he put that out into the mind-link? Those feelings, that momentary delusion. Does Shiro know about all of that, too?

“Fuck,” he says, frantic, twisting in Shiro’s arms, “do you ever shut up?”

“I don’t know. Do you ever listen?”

His heart is on fire, his whole body filled with panic. “Huh,” he spits, “maybe if you said something worth hearing.”

Shiro opens his mouth--to scold, to fuss, to shout, maybe all of the above--but in the same instant, their bodies collide, Keith’s thrashing crashing their hips together in a sweet sudden collision and oh, Keith thinks wild, disbelieving, oh gods, because Shiro is hard, stiff behind the soft turn of his sleep pants and he’s breathing startled into Keith’s face and not running away and this is a terrible idea, this isn’t even a thought, this is the best thing that Keith’s done all day:

He turns his face and jams his mouth against Shiro’s, less a kiss than a battering ram. It’s awkward and sideways and rushed and yet it makes Shiro moan, makes his hands fly up to cup Keith’s face and steady him, steady them, turn the awkward into something perfect and deep.

He tastes like Altean toothpaste, does Shiro, a dark, bitter berry. His tongue is demanding and his body unyielding and his fingers are cold, metal and skin both, and with all this, with just a kiss, he makes Keith see fucking stars.

“I didn’t come here for this,” Shiro whispers when they part, when their lips drift just enough to let words fly. “I mean, I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about, um...but honestly, I came to see if you were all right.”

Keith slips his hand under the hem of Shiro’s t-shirt, lays his palm over cool, shivering skin. “Mmm, I know. But does that mean you want to stop?”

Shiro makes a tiny, pained sound, his cock twitching against Keith’s hip. “Stop? No. No no. Unless you--unless you want to.”

“No,” Keith says, biting gently at Shiro’s lip, his own curled up in a smile. “Definitely not.”

*****

In the morning, he’s slumped over his weird not-coffee when he feels a hand on his shoulder, a roughened voice saying: “Keith? How’d you sleep?”

He tips his head back and smiles. “Like a baby, actually. Once I got around to it. How about you?"

Shiro’s eyes are warm, his mouth still flushed. “About the same, actually.”

“Really? Huh. That’s funny.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Shiro touches the bruise he left on Keith’s neck, the only one the collar of his jacket can’t hide, and gives up a tired grin. “What a coincidence.”

The whole team is looking at them, aren’t they, and Lance is howling something tinged with disbelief but it’s fine, Keith isn’t worried about it; he’s not worried about a damn thing. For the moment, it’s the castle that’s bustling, brimming over with noise and ideas and life, while Keith’s head is quiet and settled, the joy of the night before pressing in on all sides.

“Good morning,” Shiro says, giving him one last squeeze, another lazy shot of a smile.

“Yeah,” Keith says to himself, to his last sip of coffee, to the goggled eyes of his teammates. “It is.”

#shiro #first kiss #season one

[finnyisanactualrayofsunshine]

But he DID burn them. Why did he had to kill them that painfully? He has a demon, couldn't he tell him to kill these Children without any pain? I still don't get why he burned them. Because he was traumatised at that moment? Well... that isn't a excuse for killing a bunch of children. And I'm not here to troll or anything, I'm totally serious.

I'm sorry I took so long to answer this. I intended to answer it earlier, but then I got caught up in seeing a lot of things that frankly disgusted me, blocking 30+ people, and having a complete breakdown due to stress and lack of sleep as well as a series of bad days due to personal issues with my own mental health. I'm not saying this for attention or sympathy (although to be fair I do try and get those things a lot). I'm just explaining that at that time I wasn't able to deal with answering this or getting more involved. The topic still really stresses me out so this will be the only ask I answer on the subject, but I am answering it. I'd also like to remind that this is entirely my interpretation and although I feel personally that it is the correct one, I'm not Yana and I can't say I have the final word on the subject. It's only my humble opinion and what I got out of it when I first read kuro and what I still get out of it now. My opinion hasn't changed, and it probably never will.So. As I said in the original salty post, there are multiple factors here, and I'm not saying that there is a wrong or right side to this. It's shades of grey. So I'll list what I got out of the scene, both good and bad, when I originally watched it having never interacted with the fandom or their opinions.So there's the basic matter of the PTSD attack. A lot of people bring this up as an excuse for his actions, which fine, is valid. He is a 13 year old, put in a horrifying situation, with an undeveloped brain that's probably barely functioning, having to make split second decisions. I don't think that really would cover it if he was still just going and killing some kids for shits and giggles though. It's still a bad thing to do right? So although I think he'd deserve some sympathy and understanding for that, that's not enough.LEADING to the second point which literally everyone forgets?? And was like a huge obvious plot point?? Which was discussed several times?? You fucks?? HE WASNT JUST BURNING THEM FOR KICKS OH MY GOD HOW THICK DO YOU HAVE TO BE TO INTERPRET IT THAT WAY JESUS CHRIST YOU DICKNUTS look. He looked at these kids and he saw that they would NEVER be able to have a life. He has terrible trauma himself and not to be melodramatic but it kind of ruined his life. THESE KIDS HAD IT WORSE AND HE KNOWS IT. Like, they were going to live a life of pain and suffering in the BEST case scenario. In the scenario that they have healthy rich supportive families. So what happens if their families don't support them the way they are now and drop them off at psychiatric hospitals which would DEFINITELY be abusive at that time?? What happens if they remain unresponsive to everyone and everything and their families die and they end up starving on the streets? All this included with what they're dealing with and carrying emotionally?? Ciel looked at them, saw that situation, and UNDERSTOOD that that is WORSE than death, and he only had a short amount of time to make that decision. He was a thirteen year old having a panic attack faced with the choice of whether to kill them without having any sort of consent from them (which would make it more of an assisted suicide, however they were not in a mental position to be making that choice for themselves) or leave them to what awaited them which in any situation was probably going to be worse than death. Was it the right decision? I don't know. I'm not saying it is. But saying he burned kids as if he did it for fun or to be a dick is the most basic one dimensional view of the story, and misses the entire point of the scene. It was an attempt at mercy. To add to that, there's literally the scene on the train where Ciel explains what I just said?? And then he goes to help the orphans that actually could still be saved?? He had literally no reason to do that, you absolute fucks. But y'all are determined to demonize him because you aren't thirsty for him, don't feel any sympathy for a trauma survivor, don't bother reading between the lines of the story, or want to fetishize his immorality (I don't mean that's everyone but a lot of people talk about him being evil in a weirdly sexual way, like calling him dirty, and it's VERY uncomfortable given the character and context.)However, I am in no way saying Ciel was in the right either. What he did was HELLA problematic. Of course it was. It wasn't evil, but it was problematic. You brought up the fire, couldn't he get Sebastian to kill them painlessly. That's absolutely right. Going with the above logic, fire is not the best way he could have gone about it. I think that has a lot to do with the first point, about the PTSD attack. Reminder, 13 year old kid, undeveloped brain, horrifying and traumatic circumstance. Unfortunately, he's not going to be thinking clearly. He's not able to. So yeah, it's bad that he went with the fire method, I absolutely agree. However, I can also understand. He wasn't able to coherently think the situation through, at best he could do was see the flame and come to that conclusion, as opposed to working through it and calmly asking Sebastian to quietly and painlessly kill them all. Once again though, I'm not saying that was in any way okay. I'm just explaining the reasoning, and that even the fire part was not with bad intent. Never the less, the action and choice was bad. There's also the matter of him playing god. Which is honestly one of the more problematic things about Ciel's character. I don't think Ciel is evil but he's definitely problematic with darker sides, and he has too much power through Sebastian and tends to play god. I think there's valid reasons why he chose to kill the kids. On the other hand, it wasn't his choice to make. Whatever way you look at it, he made a huge Fucking choice for a bunch of people with NO say in the situation, and yeah. That's...not good. I remember in like grade 10 we had a debate in civics about the death sentence and my arguement was "you can argue both sides, whether people deserve it or can be rehabilitated, whether it's more humane to kill someone or keep them in a concrete box their whole life...but what it comes down to is no human person should have the power to decide if someone lives or dies." And that's what this is too. Was he right or wrong? I don't know. I've thought about it a lot and honestly, I can't give you an answer for that. But it wasn't his choice to make. He should not have been deciding whether they were better off alive or dead, because it just. Wasn't. His. Choice. To. Make.So in conclusion. I'm in no way saying what he did was okay or good. But looking at it with the viewpoint of "uh he burned a kid, evil, blocked and reported." doesn't make any sense. It was a complicated situation with several sides you fucks. As my fave said when I brought this up, "are we even reading the same manga as them?"Also disclaimer, I've already been salty about this for too long on my blog, so this is the LAST thing I am saying on the subject. I would strongly prefer that people don't reblog or add comments, partly because this is just my opinion and official statement on a subject that bothers me and several of my close friends, and partly because for personal reasons to myself that frankly aren't the business of strangers on the Internet, I am TERRIFIED of people arguing with me or getting angry with me and I have been in a really bad place this week because of the previous drama so hey, show some sympathy to your neighbourhood Lau ho and let me live my life in peace, drama free. And on that note, if I ever do post things that are salty and likely to start drama, I want you all to understand the magnitude of how much that thing upsets me, that I'm risking people beefing me over it. Anyways thank you, and goodnight.