#made worse by the fact that the reasons it makes this hard boil down to little else besides: People Are Fucking Assholes

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — KATSUKU BAKUGOU. homemade love.

about. katsuki takes the pain of his middle-born daughter to heart, and does anything he can to fix it.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters aged up, bakugou is a girl dad of three, reader is referred to as ‘ma’, their daughter is quirkless like deku lol, he makes her pasta, pro hero!bakugou, fem!reader, … a draft from a long time ago!! enjoy please <3

katsuki who cooks and makes his middle daughter her favourite pasta recipe whenever she’s down.

she comes home from middle school with scraped palms and knees, teary eyed and with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“they don’t like me ‘cause ‘m quirkless.” she says as soon as she’s through the door — the authentic bakugou twang thick in her shaky voice. her face is pressed into your torso when you make eye contact with katsuki, who’s emerged from the kitchen down the hall and to your left.

you see it all flash before his eyes — his childhood, his high school career and the day he died. the way he treated the number one, uncle izuku, for so many years. it’s all reflected in the familiar red of his middle child’s eyes and it kills him.

“c’mere squirt,” katsuki calls to her, drying off his hands with the red riot tea towel slung lazily over his shoulder. he’d been washing dishes before she got home. “we’re makin’ dinner together.”

“but i—“

“i wasn’t askin’, i was tellin’.” the older blonde nudges his head towards the kitchen, reaching a hand out for his daughter which she tenderly takes. when she sniffles, bakugou tucks her into his side as if to protect her from the horrors of the world. you let them go without interrupting, knowing the importance of this moment for the two.

it’s not easy, being a bakugou when you’ve got dynamight’s reputation to live up to. he’s fearsome and fiery, confident and calculated. your husband and the father of your three beautiful daughters is one of the main reasons why japan is safe today. the burden and weight of his reputation that your children carry is unimaginable — only made worse by the fact that your middle is quirkless.

and yet, dynamight’s love for her doesn’t falter. since the moment he first held his baby girl she’s been his entire world, his moon along with his sun and now his stars. he’s adored her before she even became a twinkle in his eye — no amount of power or special ability would change that for him.

she’s katsuki’s girl, not just dynamight’s daughter. he’d tear the world apart to find anyone who ever hurt her.

“hold the knife properly. you cut your finger off ‘n yer ma will have my head.” his gruff voice, holding no malice, makes your sweet girl snort with laughter — a change from her earlier wobbly bottom lip and teary eyes. “we’re tryna mince garlic for the sauce, not yer little hands, squirt.”

she sticks her tongue out at him, bright blonde curls bouncing when she narrowly misses a playful swat from her father. “i’m trying,” your middle child wails with faux upset — her nose scrunches all too similarly to how yours and it sends an arrow of love straight through katsuki’s chest. for a moment, the kitchen falls to silence and the elder of the two turns his attention to the pasta dough in his large floured hands — focusing on shaping them into little bow ties just how his daughter likes, on occasion adding them to a boiling pot of water.

“i’m trying,” she says again, but quieter. “but daddy, everythin’s so hard.”

and like pot simmering away on the stove, her emotions start to boil over — tiny hiccups forming a sad symphony with the sounds of a working kitchen.

bakugou instantly springs into dad mode, dropping everything that he had been doing to take your daughter’s hand in his. despite how messy it may be. “hey now gorgeous, don’t cry…tell me what’s wrong, yeah?”

“i-i don’t want to disappoint you by not havin’ a quirk n not bein’ a hero…” she manages to get out through her blubbering — digging the heal of her palm into wet eyes. “i jus’ wanna make you proud!”

katsuki’s face softens, everything except for love for his daughter melting away. “‘nd i am proud. fiercely fuckin’ so…ah, shit, don’t tell yer ma i cursed, kay?” he stumbles over his words, he’s never been the best at comforting people but when bakugou’s child needs him, he’ll be damned if he leaves her in any pain. “from the moment y’first came into this shitty — i mean — crappy world, i’ve been proud of you. you’ve always pushed yourself beyond anythin’ i could achieve, you’re kind to people when they don’t deserve it, you smile whenever things get tough…”

taking a moment from his passionate rant, katsuki slows his breathing and composed himself — squeezing his little girl close. “yer the best thing that’s ever happened t’me ‘n yer ma. my proudest moment… i love ya so much. you’d never disappoint me.”

“really, daddy?” your baby sniffles, rubbing at her snotty nose.

bakugou nods with a gentle smile, cupping her face between his two floury hands before kissing her forehead z “really.” he affirms. “now get yer choppin’ skills together, this pasta sauce ain’t gonna make itself.”

the two blonde’s return to cooking, a comfortable silence settling in your family kitchen, also full of love. that night, your family of five sit together munching on homemade pasta bow ties in a sauce that your middle daughter had worked so hard to make. she grins brightly between her sisters, staring at her father with her shining red eyes thankfully.

in that moment, she knows that she is loved no matter what the status of her quirk is.

you link your fingers with bakugou’s under the table. “you did good, dad.” you whisper to him, stabbing through your pasta with your fork. “

“so did you, ma.” he whispers back gruffly, thumb running over your wedding band as he eats his pasta too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugou imagines #bakugo fluff #bakugou drabble #bakugou smut #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha fluff #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha imagines #mha x reader #mha fluff #bnha drabbles #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

[stsgluver]

summary. instead of spending two weeks in a hot country, you're stuck in a cramped hotel with your boyfriend.

wc. 1.3k

tags. richly!gojo au, fluff, slightly suggestive themes but not really you've got to squint hard, swearing once

series masterlist

“i’m literally dying,” gojo whined, falling back dramatically onto the double bed in the room.

you shot him a glare from where you sat on the floor, searching through your suitcase for ibuprofen which you had grabbed in the airport’s pharmacy to help with the searing headache you had. despite his tendency to have migraines that could leave him bedridden for days, gojo had decided not to bring any painkillers just in case and that was just one of many reasons you might be killing him before the fortnight is over. “if you complain one more time you will be dead.”

you were meant to be going on a two week, all inclusive holiday with your darling boyfriend and his mega rich family in a hot foreign country, the worries of college pushed far to the back of your mind for fourteen days of pure bliss. 

but fate clearly didn’t think you’d earnt such restbite as upon arrival and taking the mandatory test, both you and gojo had tested positive for covid-19. the light sniffles he had put down to hayfever and the headache you’d assumed was just what came with having gojo satoru as a boyfriend, were in fact symptoms of the illness you both had.

so now here you were: isolating in a small hotel room until your isolation period was up, or you both tested negative. it was sparsely decorated – a double bed in the centre of the room and a television opposite. there was a small open wardrobe where gojo had dumped his suitcase and an ensuite that would just about fit your lanky boyfriend. although not the best, there was some air conditioning as well which made the stifling heat just a little bit more bearable.

the staff had given you a specific number to call if either of your symptoms got worse and food would be brought to you at specific times everyday (not like the usual room service gojo was used to where he’d order banquets of food at stupid times in the morning). there were also the morning tests that you now had to do daily which left you pathetically sneezing afterwards. all in all, nothing that you had expected for your get away.

after finally finding the medication, you quickly swallowed two pills down with a sip of water. the sooner they could kick in and actually do something to help ease your discomfort, the better.

crawling onto the double bed, gojo welcomed you with open arms and you gratefully curled into his side, throwing one of your legs over him. yes, it was boiling and yes, you were mildly irritated with your boyfriend, but you were also in pain and, for all his flaws (which he denied having any), nothing could top being held close by him. the two of you were clingy with each other at the best of times – being ill and feeling sorry for yourselves only made you both worse.

“pass me the remote,” you patted the space next to gojo blindly, too lazy to lift your head to actually search for it. it had now been almost an hour of you two cuddled up on the bed, and for the last thirty minutes gojo had been rewatching the same show over and over. whilst you headache had marginally subsided, listening to the same crappy show was only driving you insane.

“no, i like this show,” gojo whined, swatting your hand away.

“satoru,” you dragged out, muffled as you pressed your face further into his top, “you’ve watched this episode three times, you don’t need to watch it again.”

gojo hummed thoughtfully, running his hands through your hair. it was enough to make you fall asleep if you weren’t careful. “yes i do.”

“why?” you rested your chin on his chest, meeting the gaze of his bright blue eyes that sparkled as they looked down at you.

“because i’m ill.” he coughed twice for affect, sounding as pathetic as ever as he ‘checked’ himself for a fever too. 

you narrowed your eyes at him before pinching his side, causing him to let out a small yelp. “who’s fault is that?”

“covid’s.”

“no. yours,” you said pointedly, a little more alert as you relayed all the reasons why it was in fact gojo’s fault that you both had contracted this illness. “i said don’t go to geto’s party, we’re about to go on a very expensive holiday. you said but baby please please please-” you huffed, rolling back onto your back next to him defiantly. “so i gave in, as per, and now we’re–”

gojo brought his other hand to messily pat the top of your head, coaxing you to turn to face him. “i love it when you’re mad,” he was wearing a shit-eating grin that only widened when you blankly stared back at him – your annoyance radiating off of you in waves more powerful than the ones you could’ve been enjoying on the sun-ridden beach. “you’re so sexy.”

“you’re corny. and annoying,” you sat yourself up as you held out your hand, lifting a finger with each complaint, “and stupidly tall, and a pain in my ass… and i feel like you’re not even listening.” 

gojo crossed his arms behind his head as he condescendingly nodded along, gazing up at you with a lopsided smile. his top had risen up ever so slightly to expose a sliver of his abs and you hated how attractive he looked when all you wanted to do was throttle him for his childish behaviour.

“oh i’m listening baby,” he encouraged with a teasing tone, tracing small patterns on the exposed skin of your leg. “go on.” there was a fire in his wake, one that no hot weather could ever compare to, not even covid had this much of an affect on you.

“i don’t think i want to anymore,” you mumbled arms crossed as you slowly lay back down and avoided his eyes, trying not to give him any indication that you were a complete fool for his touch (like your sudden bashfulness wasn’t completely giving you away).

gojo was slow with his movements, thoughtful as he dragged his hand up along your thigh, grazing your hips, giving your waist a light squeeze as he traced the outline of your body. your breath was caught in your throat as you allowed him to do as he pleased, all previous grievances forgiven as you watched entranced. gradually, he closed the gap that you had created, shifting his body until he straddled you, holding his body up by resting on his forearms either side of your head.

gojo dipped his head down, lips milimetres from your own that you would barely even need to lift your head from the pillow to touch. his voice was an octave deeper as he spoke. “shame, i was just starting to–” 

and then he fell into a fit of very loud and very barky and very not sexy coughs. he didn’t even give you the decency of trying to limit the spread of his germs and buried his head into the crook of your neck once his coughs were over.

“mood fucking ruined,” you hit his shoulder lightly and he babbled something that was completely muffled and only tickled as his lips brushed your skin. “please let me at least change the channel so i die from this illness and not insanity.” 

gojo lifted his head up ever so slightly, just enough so that he could peck the corner of your lips and point to the spot next to you. “i slipped the remote under my pillow. tv’s all yours baby.”

a/n. I think this is like the first thing ive posted in almost a month. I MISS YOU GUYS xxx

taglist. @jar-03 @animeflower26 @hyori2

#— toru!! #satoru #gojo drabbles #gojo x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x you #gojo fluff #gojou satoru #rich boy!gojo

[joelsgreys]

we need you

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Afraid of failing the two of the people he cares about more than anything, Joel decides you and Ellie are better off without him.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SET IN JACKSON. takes place during Kin. arguing, angst. helpful to know reader was not present when Joel and Tommy talked in the garage. NO mentions of age, reader has no physical description.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: welllllp i don't know about you guys, but i am DEAD inside after tonight so to cope i am going to write a little drabble. already put it in the warning/tags section, but once again, just to be on the safe side of things: potential spoilers, proceed with caution if you do not want the newest episode spoiled!

“Just what in the motherfucking hell was that, Joel?” You nearly growled, bursting through the door of the bedroom that he’d chosen to occupy for the night. Having heard the way he’d spoken to Ellie—not to mention, all that he had said to her even after her heartbreaking confession to him, her unspoken cry for him not to abandon her, all you could see in your mind was the color red. Sure, you and Joel had been through your fair share of bullshit over the years, disagreements that caused friction between the two of you weren’t all that uncommon seeing as the two of you shared similar personality traits to each other, stubbornness being one of them. But you could not, for the life of you, remember an occasion where you’d been this angry with him, this fucking livid. As you watched him sink down onto the bed without a word, your hands curled into fists at your sides. You knew it would only make matters worse, losing your temper, but you weren’t all too sure that you could contain it this time around.

The blood in your veins was bubbling, boiling hot underneath your skin.

“Are you going to fucking answer me or what?” You prompted, a cool edge to your tone despite the heat radiating throughout your body. “You’re really trying to hand her off to Tommy?”

Joel sighed, shaking his head. “You weren’t supposed to find out like this.”

“Find what out, Joel? That you went off and made a decision, and a really fucking dumb one at that, without even talking to me about it first?” You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him. Despite how incredibly furious you were, the sadness was heavy inside of your chest. Tt was as if Joel had forgotten the fact that for the last few months, Ellie had been under your care too, and you had every right to be a part of any decision that he made regarding her and her well-being. It hurt you to your very core that he’d done this without talking to you first, and it hurt you even deeper to know that Ellie had known about this and she’d kept it all to herself all evening.

She’d come home from the movies and when you offered her dinner, she refused to eat and stomped upstairs, locking herself in the bedroom. You’d chalked it up to nothing more than a typical teenaged girl simply having a mood swing. After all, it hadn’t exactly been the best day for Ellie. She’d arrived in Jackson and the first thing she noticed was how everyone in the colony looked at her, especially the children. She was different. She didn’t fit in, she stuck out like a sore thumb and you knew that had to have been hard for her. Not wanting to push her, you’d figured that she would come out of the room eventually and talk you about it when she was good and ready. But now that you knew the real reason why she had come home so upset, you couldn’t help but to feel guilty.

For hours, Ellie had been upstairs in that room knowing that Joel planned on dumping her on Tommy and you didn’t have the slightest fucking clue about what was going on until you’d overheard Joel and Ellie’s shouting match just moments ago.

“Joel.” You said his name in a tone neither of you recognized.

Low, venomous, borderline dangerous.

You were like a ticking bomb, seconds away from going off.

Joel narrowed his eyes at you. “She’s better off with Tommy, alright? And we both fuckin’ know that,” he said. “It’s the best thing to do for her. I’m doin’ it because I know damn good and well that if she stays with me, all I’m gonna do is have her fall into the wrong fuckin’ hands or killed.”

“You’re wrong!” You countered, dropping your arms away from your chest and back down to your sides. “Joel, don’t you dare fucking do this. Ellie doesn’t want Tommy, she wants you. She all but fucking said it right to your face just a minute ago!” You cried, pointing a finger towards the door of the room as if pointing to Ellie herself. “She admitted to you that she wouldn’t feel safe with anyone else, Joel. So don’t you fucking do this to her.”

He gripped the edge of the bed, his knuckles going ghost white. “She’ll be better off with Tommy,” he repeated himself. He paused for a brief moment, just long enough to avert his tortured gaze from yours as he said, “And so would you.”

Your mouth parted slightly in shock. “Fucking excuse me?”

“I can’t keep her safe. Hell, I can barely keep you safe! How many fuckin’ times have I almost lost you? ‘Cause I don’t move fast enough? ‘Cause I’ve made the wrong decisions? ‘Cause I’ve asked you to do somethin’ for me and turns out that I unknowingly sent you into the fuckin’ lion’s den?” He inhaled a sharp breath, and you could hear his voice breaking with each and every word that fell from his lips. “I’ve almost cost you your life how many fuckin’ times now?”

“Joel—”

“Tess died ‘cause of me.” He saw you open your mouth to protest and he quickly added, “You can sit there and tell me over and over that it wasn’t my fault ‘til you’re blue in the face, but let’s just fuckin’ be honest and tell it how it is, alright? I couldn’t get to her quick enough and now she’s dead. I won’t let you meet the same fate.” Joel reached up, raking a hand tiredly through his hair, mentally bracing himself for your reaction to what he was about to say next. “I think you should go with Tommy and get Ellie to where she needs to be. After that, you should—you should think about stayin’ here with him in Jackson. I probably don’t belong here, but you do.”

You let out a small, shaky breath of air.

“Who the hell are you to make that kind of decision for me?” You asked, willing yourself to keep yourself from crumbling into tears. “I’m sorry Joel, but you can’t make that kind of a choice for me. And do you want to know what else?” You didn’t even wait for him to respond. “You can’t make it for Ellie, either.”

“She’s fuckin’ fourteen years old—”

You took a step forward as you challenged him. “Do you really think that girl isn’t smart enough to know deep down inside what’s best for her? Tell me, do you really think that Ellie pulled everything she said out of her ass? Do you honestly think that she could ever trust Tommy the way that she trusts you?” You felt a warm tear slide down your cheek and quickly wiped it away before he could see it. “Ellie is young, but she’s not a baby, Joel. I get that sometimes we need to guide her through shit, but let’s be real. She is old enough to make decisions for herself. Maybe not all of them, but the decision that you’re trying to make for her right here, right now—it isn’t yours to make.” Another tear made its way down the side of your face as you whispered, “And the one you’re trying to make for me isn’t either.”

Joel hung his head, seemingly defeated. “Why can’t you see it’s for the best? Why are you makin’ this so hard?”

Willing your trembling legs to move, you slowly walked over to him and sank to your knees in front of him; although you tried to meet his eyes, he refused. “You care about Ellie. I know it, I can see it and I can feel it. For as much shit as you give her all the time, I know that she’s become so important to you.”

“‘Course she is,” he mumbled. “You’re both important to me.”

You reached for his hands, pulling them forward onto his lap. You placed your own hands on top of his, lacing your fingers together. “Then don’t fucking do this to us, Joel. Please. I’m already down on my knees and I will fucking beg and plead if that’s what it’s going to take.” You crouched down a little further, enough so that you could look up into his dark brown eyes. “Ellie wants to be with you, Joel. And I do too.”

Joel’s gaze glistened with tears that he tried, but failed, to keep from falling in front of you. “I’ll fail you, just like I’ve fuckin’ failed everybody else.”

“Joel, please listen to me. Hear what I am saying, for the love of Christ. We have come so far,” You said, firmly squeezing his hands in yours as if somehow that would snap him out of it. “Whether you choose to believe or not, we’ve only come this far because of you. You have done so much for us. It’s why we trust you, why we feel safe with you. Me and Ellie, we belong with you, Joel—not with Tommy, not with anyone else. We need you, okay? We fucking need you. Do you understand me, Joel?”

Joel exhaled the breath he’d been holding shakily, leaning down to be closer to you. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against yours as he tried to even out his breathing.

Rubbing the back of his hands with your thumbs in soothing circles, you lifted your head and lightly pressed your lips against his forehead.

“We’re going to finish what we started,” You murmured quietly against his skin, feeling a slight shudder rack his body as a single whimper escaped him. You squeezed his hands again. “Together, Joel.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal

[christinebloodwrittings]

Till' death do us apart.

Pairing: Angel Y/n x Alastor Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Warning: Biblical nonsense. :}

Masterlist –– Next chapter

So this was caused by the absolute brain rot my love for the series has given me, 40% of the text I got it from the transcript of the first episode Overture, and Michael's text was brought by Hazbin Hotel: Journey to the Light, shoutout to the creator. It's a one time thing as to bring this sort of prologue.

As always, the characters mostly belong to Vivienne Medrano, and it is a fanfiction with no intention of offending anyone.

Prologue

At the beginning, Heaven rose from the light of creation, it´s golden glow soon was to be known though out existence. It was ruled by beings of pure light, Angels that worshiped good and shielded the world from all evil.

Samael was one of the first angels. He was a dreamer with delusional ideas for all of creation, for this, he was seen as a menace. The elders of Heaven were brought to the conclusion that his way of thinking was dangerous to the order of their world.

The straw that broke the camel's back was when its creation, the forbidden fruit was placed in the hands of a mortal woman, this made the high command make the decision to banish Samael from heaven, causing the creation of the demonic place known years later as Hell.

The word 'Hell' was derived from an Anglo-Saxon word hellia, that meant wicked or evil.

Samael’s wife, the first human woman ever created, Lilith, thrived with the decision. After being banished along with her husband, she empowered demon-kind with her voice and her songs. And as the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power.

To say Heaven was threatened by that fact was an understatement, according to the paperwork Adam - the first human man and soul to enter heaven – left, I was able to discover that the overpopulation was being handled through an extermination, a massive genocide is a correct termination. What I found interesting, was that the procedure ruled out hell-born beings, no exceptions, and no precedents of any contract with Samael or any form of power known to rule in hell.

To think Adam’s heart was so big that he decided to condemn only human souls, sparing “innocent” hell-born beings, is moronic. But as soon as I started to leave my obligations unattended to uncover the mystery of the excess of blood in the hands of the high command, my actions were noticed by Michael, the archangel of light.

“Demons... It seems as if I can never catch them all and destroy them, and their numbers continue to expand, corrupting the minds of mortals” he scoffed, picking up his cup of tea, “That’s no reason to go down and take their lives, if you’re so concerned about them corrupting mortals, shut down their access to portals-“ he interrupted me hitting the table hard, breaking the saucer on which he placed the cup, his voice became distorted and his eyes widened around his head, trying to intimidate me.

“They are sinful beasts who rejected our light so we help remove them from it and keep them in the shadows of Hell. We allow them to live, an example of the angel's merciful will, but their population must be... controlled, until they cease being an annoying, persistent thorn in the side of our family” he hissed.

“Our family, was pushed down a hole and since then, no one, not even you, has tried to establish any contact, don’t you think it’s almost an insult that Adam saw Samael before us? Because I do”

“You seem to have a clouded judgement” he adjusted his glasses with a stern movement.

“It’s as clear as ever, I go to earth, I see the souls go either up or dragged down, you’re the one that is clouded because you haven’t witnessed any of their pain”  my blood boiled causing my aura to manifest around me.

“Watch your words” he warned, his eyes flaring in a blue from of flame.

“I can't wait for him to find out, and what will be worse for you, is that everyone will know that you agreed to this from the beginning” I snickered, it was wrong to provoked him, but I felt as if I had the upper hand on him.

I wish someone had warned me of how wrong I was.

“You were the only “no” that day, you were the only one to try to defend his ideas” he thought out loud.

“So?” I asked confused, reaching for the door.

There was a shrill sound, the next thing I knew, I felt a horrible pain in my back, also heat, the air was humid and hot, a smell of blood between fresh and thousands of years old. I don't know how long I was face down in the dirt, I was only able to get up when the pain stopped enough and I was able to move to dry my tears. The dry, arid land under my hands and the sign in front of me confirmed my suspicions.

Son of a bitch had thrown me into Hell.

#alastor x reader #alastor #radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin spoilers #hazbin hotel season 1

[captain-azoren]

I want someone to tell me what "non-evil" thing Azula was supposed to do when Aang was going into the Avatar State that wouldn't have been incredibly incompetent or out of character or made no sense in general.

How would you have written Azula in a way that makes her less evil but keeps the story the same? Just make her smirk less?

I see a lot of talk about Azula's agency and the choices she makes, but if she's trying to win, why would anyone expect her to anything differently?

And before anyone starts, this is not making excuses, this is trying to understand where the character is coming from.

Azula sees Iroh as a traitor and a disgrace. She legitimately hates him. Of course she's going to do a lethal sneak attack on him. Zuko betrayed her, their family and their nation. He also hates her. Azula had no reason to like him, so why is it so hard to fathom she wants him dead by the end of the series?

Azula isn't going to feel remorse because she believes she is the good guy, or at least that the Fire Nation winning is for the greater good. And newsflash, so does the vast majority of the FN. If any other loyal soldier in the FN had to make those choices, they likely would have done the same.

Nearly every single FN soldier had been trying to kill these kids. That includes Zuko. Zuko was literally RIGHT THERE fighting Aang and Katara in the crystal catacombs, but he doesn't get called evil or heartless all because he was too incompetent to strike a killing blow on Aang while he was powering up and then later expressed regret.

Except Zuko only regretted betraying Iroh. Need I remind people Zuko hires a damn ASSASSIN to kill a 12 year old in the next season? If you think Azula coming the closest to killing Aang somehow puts her at a higher grade of evil than 99% of the villains who attacked the Gaang, you have moral myopia and are full of shit.

Azula isn't going to bat an eye at killing Aang because Aang being a child is secondary to Aang being the single greatest threat to her goal. You cannot reasonably expect her, within the circumstances, to politely ask Aang to surrender. You cannot expect her to just lay down and accept defeat when her level of skill, her tactical cunning, and her upbringing under Ozai all point her towards shooting Aang in the back.

Why shouldn't she try to kill Zuko and Katara? She's the enemy and he's a traitor. She hates them and she's pissed. This isn't some moral event horizon.

Azula hates Ursa because she felt neglected and that Zuko getting more attention was unfair. It might be a misunderstanding, but as a child it isn't Azula's responsibility to sort things out.

Azula has arguably the least agency due to her age and having the most oversight by a powerful adult, so yeah I'm not letting that go.

I'm not saying Azula isn't bad. She has a pretty unpleasant personality and dies some shitty stuff. But it's only some, and on the whole she isn't even particularly bad compared to the other villains in the franchise. Is the smirking bad? It is only if you consider having nasty thoughts to be a crime. A bad sign, but just a sign.

But that's all it really ever boiled down to, isn't it? That damn smile of Azula's that shows you just how much she enjoys hurting people. Well the fact is, no matter how much Azula seems to enjoy her actions, no matter how little remorse she shows, it doesn't make her actions any worse than if she had a cold, emotionless or angry frown. It makes her unpleasant, yes, but ultimately you have to judge people on their actions and less on their thoughts and feelings.

No matter how conflicted Zuko was, he still stole that girl's horse when he could have kept walking, hard as it was. No matter how jolly or enlightened Iroh was, he still waged war for decades.

If you expect me to forgive Zuko and Iroh for all their wrongdoings just because they turned things around, then I'm going to hold Azula to that same standard and say that, smirk or no smirk, her actions are, not excusable, but forgivable.

And yes, I do sincerely believe that Azula caused less harm to the world than Zuko and Iroh in the months she was actually active. I understand that conquering BSS was bad and burning down the EK would have been an actual atrocity, but I also understand that conquering BSS was something the FN as a whole was aiming for and burning the land have zero objections by any of the FN military.

Azula also suggests it to keep Zuko from saying something stupid and to get on Ozai's good side. I do not believe she suggested burning the land because she sadistically wanted to kill thousands of people. Azula probably thought it was a brilliant tactic for stampings out the last few rebellions for good.

Is it bad? Yes, it's very fucking bad, because Azula doesn't understand the sheer gravity of what she's saying or the devastation of Ozai's escalation. But that's true for everyone in that room but Zuko. It isn't JUST Azula, it's the whole damn Nation.

You know what Azula does that's just plain mean? Destroying a sand castle. Taunting Zuko about Ozai going to kill him is pretty cruel. Azula probably could have found a nicer way to get Ty Lee on her team.

But don't give me any bullshit about Zuko being Azula's abuse victim. It was a toxic rivalry. And I guarantee you if Zuko had gotten the upper hand on Azula sooner he would have done what he could to humiliate her, because he hates her out if envy, not just because she's mean.

And why should Azula be nice to Zuko, who is always belligerent and angry towards her for being better? That is how she sees him, in her eyes Zuko is the bad sibling who needs to be humiliated and taught a lesson because he's stubborn and entitled and spoiled by their mother who loved him even when he failed, unlike their father who gave attention when it was deserved and earned.

Yes, that's a fucked up way of seeing things, but that's how Azula sees it, that's what she believes is right, and you shouldn't expect her to know otherwise because she IS 14 and has no exposure to anything else.

Azula DOES regret some things, she regrets always having to use fear to control people, but as the series itself spells things out, it's literally all she knows, it's all that she thinks she's even capable of from her failed attempts at being normal in the Beach.

Azula doesn't think she has a choice,band if you don't think you have a choice, then THERE IS NO CHOICE. There is NO opportunity or chsnce to change without guidance, and what so many dumb casuals and antis just don't GET is that Azula really doesn't know right from wrong. That these supposed second chances she's getting to change her ways are utterly pointless if she lacks the wisdom to see them as choices.

None of us are excusing Azula, because that would defeat the purpose of wanting her to finally understand for herself what she did wrong and to get better, but we can't blame her for everything either.

Just because what she did wasn't right doesn't put her beyond forgiveness. The right thing to do would be to trying and actually guide her and help her, not just throw second chances at her and be shocked when she makes another bad decision.

This is a hard pill to swallow for some of you, but a victim is a victim, and no matter how bad or abusive they are, a victim NEEDS HELP. So get over your hangup and do something useful, and if you can't do that, then stay out of the way and let someone else help.

I'm sick of people trying to convince me to forsake a kid, no matter how cruel or messed up she is. Stop telling me to give up hope, stop telling me to keep fighting to save that one little kernel of goodness buried deep down.

I've been doing this shit since I was a teenager, both for myself and for actual people who made bad choices. Even if Azula laughed at Zuko's pain or was willing to kill, she deserves to heal from her abuse as much as she needs to right her wrongs. Fuck anyone who thinks it's okay for her to suffer.

#azula #rant

[dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night]

Eden part seventeen

TW: grief, transphobia, misgendering, Stockholm Syndrome, abelism against cluster b disorders, brief abelist slurs, xenophobia, narcissistic abuse rhetoric, referenced major character death, bad caretaker, pet whumpee, escaped whumpee

Ezra couldn't manage to open his eyes, too disorientated and exhausted. Everything felt wrong. What the hell had happened last night?

His blankets were so uncomfortable, such ratty and itchy things. The air of the room was far chillier than Christopher's home ever was, leaving Ezra wondering if he could possibly be outside. But he was lying on a bed, so that idea was clearly nonsense.

Something else bugged him, that he couldn't put his finger on. After a moment of thought, the quite obvious answer occurred to him. Lavender. The essential oils and perfumes he had grown so accustomed to no longer filled the air around him, replaced by clashing scents of old booze, trash, and artificial vanilla.

Ezra opened his eyes, and the sight of his old apartment triggered his memories rushing back. He wasn't in Christopher's home at all. Jay was dead, gone like their master. Ezra had escaped. Christopher must be worried sick.

"Fuck," Ezra groaned, not sure what else he was supposed to say.

He closed his eyes, hoping he could fall asleep and wake up in Christopher's bed, cuddled up in his arms. But when this proved impossible, he forced himself to stand up and toss his blankets off. He wandered around the apartment in a daze, becoming reaccustomed to his ugly surroundings.

Messy didn't begin to describe the apartment. untouched by Christopher's obsessive cleaning and organization. Nothing had a place to begin with, so being out of place was incurable. He half heartedly threw a few empty energy drink cans in the overflowing trash can.

Slipping back into autopilot mode wasn't difficult, and soon Ezra was boiling water on the stove to make Top Ramen. A poor meal compared to what he had grown used to consisting on, but still it filled him up and warmed his bones. Almost a mockery of Christopher's home cooked stews, but useful in its own sense.

Ezra closed his eyes, trying to pretend that nothing had changed. But the sight of Jay's body plagued him, broken in the bloody snow, an eternal reminder of all that had happened to him. Worse than their corpse was their bright smile playing behind his closed eyelids. A smile he would never see again, let alone provoke by saying something sappy or poking them in the stomach.

The decision to go home was a ridiculously easy one. Ezra tossed his empty Top Ramen wrapper in the trash and put on a pair of sneakers. He walked straight out the door and onto the cracked concrete sidewalk in front of his apartment.

Reason hit him like the cars driving down the street would if he took fifteen steps forward. Where was Christopher's house? What was the address? Hell, what state was it in? Not too far to hitchhike, but in what direction? Ezra silently walked inside and sat on his bed.

Usually when he was having a hard time, he distracted himself by listening to music and scrolling Tumblr, giving his brain enough stimulation for not a single thought to possibly form. But now he hardly remembered the existence of his cellphone, sitting next to the abandoned art supplies on his desk.

He tried not to cry and immediately failed. What he was crying over made him guilty of the highest contempt. Not Jay's death, which he had half heartedly tried to prevent. But of the life he had lost. A taste of paradise he could never win back. The death of another didn't hurt anywhere near as badly as suffering in his own life. It never had.

But Christopher knew where Ezra lived. He had never been lazy, always doing his due research and finding out everything possible. How often had he casually dropped a fact about Ezra's life and past that Ezra had never shared with him?

This made Ezra feel a bit better. He just needed to wait. Surely Christopher would check here as soon as he couldn't find Ezra in the woods… But why would Christopher still want him?

This thought proved more unbearable than any other anxiety so far. Christopher had owned other pets in the past, all now dead. The thought once terrified Ezra, but he had convinced himself that he was better. Special. Well behaved, respectful, loving, everything he should be. Not anymore. He had run away, breaking the most important and sacred of rules. Christopher must hate him for betraying his trust so horribly.

Ezra stumbled to the bathroom to throw up in the sink. It had been months since he had made himself sick with anxiety. Drinking water was his best cure, and it did nothing but rid him of the foul taste in his throat. His head filled with agony from his stress, as though someone were driving a stake into his temple.

His roommate chose the worst possible time to walk in. She looked the same as ever. Chipped fake nails, a ratty Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and a messy bleach blonde bun all painted the perfect white trash picture. She stared at Ezra, mouth gaping like a goldfish, standing at the entrance to the living room.

"Where have you been?" Shelly asked. "I've been worried about you, Esther."

Ezra flinched at the sound of that name. Such a disgusting word, at least when used to describe him. How many times did he need to correct her?

"I got kidnapped," he said, hoping Shelly would leave well enough alone.

"Oh no." Shelly covered her mouth. "I didn't get the ransom note. Did it get buried in my emails or my Instagram? I'm so sorry."

Ezra nearly laughed from the sheer absurdity of her statement. Ransom notes for roommates sent via emails and instagram messages? What world did she think she was living in?

"Not for ransom," he said, not entirely sure why he was bothering to explain. "I got kidnapped and kept as a-" The word pet seemed improper. He couldn't bring himself to say it. "Got kidnapped by a guy who was stalking me and wanted me to live with him." He laughed awkwardly. "You know how it is."

"I- I don't know how that is. Oh my God. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up."

The pounding in Ezra's head was finally going down, allowing him to think and communicate.

Shelly sat down on the crumb covered sofa and patted the fashion next to her. "Come sit down. You need to tell me everything."

Ezra tentatively sat down. Emotional conversations with Shelly always ended badly. Her best advice was using crystals she bought on Etsy to cure depression. But she sometimes had coupons for free doughnuts, so that was a plus.

"Start at the beggining," she urged. "I'm listening."

The beggining? It had been so long since Ezra had thought back so far. Some days he forgot he had ever been an unwilling captive.

"I was kidnapped by a man named Christopher Kotev," he said.

"What is he like?" Shelly interupted.

"I was just about to tell you." Ezra fought to keep the annoyance from his voice. "I think he's like fifty. He lived by himself. Russian American family."

"That's scary," Shelly said bizarrely.

Ezra blinked. "What?"

"You know, Russians. I've seen a lot of movies and-"

"No," Ezra interrupted. He usually hated interrupting people but Shelly was an idiot. "I grew up in Spokane. That's over in Washington state. Big Russian community. Most of them were always really friendly."

"Huh. Thats interesting." Shelly popped a piece of bubblegum in her mouth. "But I bet what's-his-face who kidnapped you wasn't."

"Christopher Kotev," Ezra repeated. "And he's literally the nicest person I've ever met. He kidnapped me with the sole intention of making my life as pleasant as possible and keeping me happy, because he loves me."

The conviction is his voice did nothing to betray his anxiety over yesterday's escape.

"I've watched a lot of true crime podcasts but I've never heard anything like that. I-" Shelly suddenly grabbed Ezra's hand. "Did he hurt you?"

Ezra let her hold his hand. She wasn't overly touchy, and this was the farthest she ever went. He was uncomfortable, but didn't mind her touch nearly as much as her question."

No, he never laid a hand on me. Christopher just wasn't like that. He was very gentle and loving. Made sure I had enough to eat, treating me really nicely, and just being good. I really liked being with him, even if you think I'm crazy I can't change that."

"What were you, his pet cat?" Shelly asked, unaware of how close to home her words hit.

"Pretty much," Ezra admitted. "But hey, who do you love more than your cat?"

"Do you have Stockholm Syndrome?"

Ezra shook his head. "No. I don't think so. That's when you're attached to someone abusive. Christopher wasn't like that at all."

"Then why did you come back?"

"It's a long story." Ezra hoped Shelly would get bored and leave him be. "I don't know if you'd really get it."

Shelly stood up. "Come on. Let's go sit in my room. I'll do your nails while you tell me everything. It'll be nice. We can play some music and I have gummy bears."

Ezra sighed deeply, but followed behind Shelly. He kicked off his sneakers and sat on her neatly made bed, running his pointer finger over the stained mandela patterned blanket. Shelly grabbed out her nail polish and opened the bottle of noxious acetone nail polish remover. Ezra tried not to gag from the smell.

"Keep telling me about everything," Shelly said. "Green is a good color for you, I think."

"Green is fine. Um…" Ezra tried to remember everything that had happened. Details like their nightly readings of Dante's Inferno didn't seem important. "Christopher was engaged to a man named Colt."

"He's gay?" Shelly asked, very surprised and not bothering to politely hide it. "What'd he kidnap you for?"

Ezra knew exactly what she was getting at, and chose to focus on the smooth lines of green being applied to his nails. His ears burned with embarrassment.

"I guess you'd call it platonic stalking and kidnapping," he said curtly.

"I've never heard of it. You should go on my true crime podcast. It'd be a hit."

"You run your own true crime podcast? I thought you just listened to them."

"Me and my friend Leah do," she said happily. "We have more than two hundred followers on YouTube. The filming is done over at her house, 'cause it's cleaner. We even make money from it."

Ezra didn't know how to answer. All five nails on his left hand were now painted a glimmering dark green.

"Keep telling me about Christopher and… What's his face? The fiance."

"Colt." Ezra shook his head as though to rid himself of his memories. "He's the most horrible person I've ever met. He was-"

"Wait, let me visualize this. What does he look like?"

"Uh, also in his fifties but looked younger. Wore a lot of leather. Had full body tattoos, some of really slutty looking women and men. Others just cliche skulls and playing cards. You know what I mean. He had greaser hair. Taller than me but shorter than Christopher."

"Sounds like my ex. God, he was a mistake. Anyway, go on."

Shelly always made Ezra feel better about his habit of making conversations about himself, and that was not a good thing.

"He was torturing someone in his basement."

Shelly gasped, then quickly got distracted cleaning up the nail polish she had smudged with an acetone drenched Q-tip.

"They're dead now," Ezra said quietly, hoping Shelly had a single shred of respect in her fake tan covered body. "Their name was Jay. I can't close my eyes without seeing their body in the snow."

"I'm so sorry," Shelly said gently. "That's horrible. But how did you go from being kidnapped to seeing your kidnapper's fiance's victim's body dumped outside?"

"I settled down with Christopher after he kidnapped me," Ezra said, choosing to ignore the piercings won from his failed escape attempt. "He was perfect. The kindest person I've ever met. Then one day, a week or two after I moved in, his fiance Colt came over for a visit."

Shelly started applying a thin layer of clear polish over the green. For once, she wasn't interrupting.

"He dragged in his… victim. They were beyond hurt, filthier than anyone I've ever seen. They looked straight out of those shitty slasher movies we used to watch. The only thing Christopher ever did wrong was allowing Colt to get away with… torturing them."

Ezra took a deep breath, trying not to cry. He couldn't cry. Not in front of Shelly. This was too private a matter, but he was too tired to stop talking to the only… friend he had left.

"I took them to get cleaned off while Christopher and Colt talked. Christopher seemed disturbed by Jay, but too in love to say anything. Jay couldn't even remember their own name, okay?!"

Ezra couldn't help sobbing at this. Holy fuck, what had they done? It wasn't just on Colt, or even Colt and Christopher. Jay's blood was on Ezra's own hands too. If only he had been a little braver. If he had stood up to Colt. If he had cared enough to keep Jay happy and alive after his death. If wishes were horses, he might have a shot at winning this race.

"I named them Jay. It seemed like a nice name. I patched up their wounds and burns and cleaned their hair. You still couldn't tell their skin color, they were so battered. They hadn't eaten in days. I gave them a bowl of borscht, that's a Russian stew with beets and potatoes, and they acted like it was a gift from God. I let them sleep in my bed and-" Ezra choked back tears. "Then they had to go home. Not their home. Home with him."

"I've never heard anything that horrible," Shelly said, not bothering to hide the distasteful curiosity in her voice. "Christopher just let this happen?"

"He said that Colt was naturally violent, and implied that he had been on the receiving end of it. He seemed relieved that Colt had a different person to take his anger out on. Stuff happened later that makes me sure he was telling the truth."

"What stuff? Jay getting murdered?"

"Jay wasn't murdered!" Ezra snapped. "Stop interrupting. I'm trying to explain."

"I'm sorry," Shelly said, clearly lying. "Keep going. Can I do your hair?"

Ezra sighed. "Yes, but don't straighten it. I hated it when you tried that."

Shelly ran to the bathroom and came back with a bag full of hair supplies. She plopped a bag of gummies on Ezra's lap, before sitting behind him. A comb began tugging at his ear length curls.

"What happened to Jay?"

"Colt came back," Ezra said in a strangled whisper. "Of course he did. Christopher was his fiance. They were planning on getting married in late June because Christopher likes outdoor weddings and that's when the lavender is blooming."

"Lavender?"

Ezra brushed his tears away. How had he missed that detail? "Christopher loved lavender. He made it in desserts and tea. He wore lavender perfume all the time. His whole house smelled like it. I really miss it."

Shelly worked through a difficult tangle, making Ezra yelp. "Sorry, sorry. I don't like lavender, but that's all very nice. I like weddings. I hope theirs is nice, even if they're horrible people."

"Not happening," Ezra snarled. "Colt died. Jay died. They're dead and gone. Christopher almost died too."

"I'm sorry."

Ezra popped a few of the gummy bears in his mouth, enjoying the artificial sweetness and weird texture. Chewing gave him time to recompose himself, banishing his tears.

"I was taking care of Jay again," Ezra said bitterly. "I heard a gunshot and was fucking terrified. Then I found out that Christopher had killed Colt in self defense because Colt had gotten too violent with him. It was an accident, but it still fucking happened. Christopher and his siblings covered the crime up. His younger brother Michael has criminal connections so it was easy. Jay stayed with us for a while."

Ezra's voice broke, and his eyes welled with tears. "They were getting better. They were healthy. They still acted like a- like a little kid. But they were getting better. I swear they were."

"I believe you," Shelly said, spraying something weird and cold in Ezra's hair. "You don't have any reason to lie. This is all so horrible."

"They wanted to die, and I can't blame them," he said bitterly. "They asked me to kill them, but I couldn't. I was being selfish. I just couldn't do it. So Christopher did. It wasn't murder, it was assisted suicide. It hurt him, I know it did. I ran away in a panic, and I've never regretted anything more."

"Christopher kidnapped you then killed two other people." Shelly dropped her hair supplies and moved around on her bed so she was facing Ezra. "That's awful."

"I want to go back," Ezra admitted. "I was so happy, for a while. If it were just me and Christopher, everything would be okay."

"I think Christopher is a narcissistic sociopath," Shelly said, giving Ezra intense whiplash.

"I-" Ezra glanced around, as though looking for cameras. "What?"

Shelly started ticking off on her fingers. "He's clearly obsessed with you, and wants you all to himself. Textbook narcissist. And he killed two people, and is totally fine with it. Textbook sociopath. I know this is hard for you, Ezra. I'll help you through it."

Ezra burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. Shelly could be so bizarre, to the point of highly offensive comedy.

"What's the matter?" Shelly asked.

"You realize that I have NPD, right?" Ezra stopped laughing. Oh fuck, maybe he shouldn't have said that. Well, too late now. "Narcissistic Personality Disorder. It's a cluster B condition. I'm sure plenty of your podcasts talk about it."

"You're too nice to be a narcissist," Shelly countered.

Ezra laughed some more. It felt good after all the crying. "Oh God, Shelly. You really crack me up sometimes. All that time spent on self help websites with articles called 'how to spot a narcissist' and you didn't even realize you were living with one. How oblivious could you get? I have the diagnosis papers and everything."

"But- but you're not like that," Shelly said, clearly distressed. "You're not abusive. You couldn't be."

Ezra ate a few more gummy bears before responding. "Do you think that people with NPD just abuse everybody all the time?"

Shelly nodded. It stung, but Ezra had expected it.

"I don't know if you'll believe a lowly narcissist such as myself," Ezra said sarcastically. "But I'll give you the low down. Every single abuser made the decision to be abusive. No one does it by accident. They might be mean or neglectful, but actual abuse is a choice."

"But narcissists do choose that. That's the whole point."

"I didn't. I chose to be good, even if people kept screwing me over for it." Ezra's years of resentment finally had a target, and he couldn't stop himself from speaking to her. "Even though my parents abused me. Even though I was a freak who never had any real friends. I chose to be kind. I wake up every morning and decide, against all my fears and doubts, to be a good person even if I won't get anything in return. Sure, I hope I get something in return. But I hardly ever do. It's hard to have a brain like mine, but I make the most of it."

Shelly, a woman who heard about two horrible deaths and reacted with only curiosity, looked on the verge of tears at these statements.

"Finally I met Christopher," Ezra continued. "The first person to ever really care about me. Who loved me the way I always wanted to be loved. How I deserved to be loved. I hope he'll take me back. Because I deserve a good life."

It had been years since Ezra had claimed to be deserving of anything. The world didn't owe him a damn. But after a taste of what he could have, he had slipped back into old entitled delusions.

"Is that why you loved him?" Shelly asked quietly. "Because you're both narcissists? Because you love each other in the way nobody else can? Because you understabd each other in the way empaths won't?"

Ezra had never considered the idea that Christopher could have NPD. Not for a second. But now it seemed so obvious that it may as well be fact.

He nodded, trying not to cry again. "I love him, Shelly. And he loves me. Someone like you wouldn't get it. But I get it. And that's enough."

"Listen." Shelly held Ezra's hand again, not anywhere as comforting as Christopher used to be. "I'm an empath, okay? I feel for you. You don't know what these feelings are like, because you're a narcissist. But you've got to believe me the way I believe you. I know what's going on in your heart, even if you're broken. Being broken is hard. I know that, even if I'm totally normal. I'm here for you, as long as you don't take advantage of me. Okay?"

Ezra hated being called broken. He hated self proclaimed "empaths". He hated being treated like he wasn't a person. Most of all, he hated Shelly and everyone else like her. They made his life a living hell. But at least she was placated now. And Ezra had never had a hard time playing the victim.

He faked a smile. "I'm so glad to have such a nice friend like you. I wish I could be an empath too. You're right, it is hard to be…" he swallowed. "So broken. I wish I could feel for other people."

"I'm sorry you cant. It must be rough. I've never net a narcissist as self aware as you. I'm glad I can know your point of view. It'll help me."

And Ezra was supposed to be the selfish one. The irony may have been lost on Shelly, but it wasn't lost on him.

"I really like you," he lied. "I don't want to ever hurt you. I try really hard."

Shelly smiled. "I know that, Esther. Really, I do. What do you need from me right now?"

Ezra blinked at the question, but decided to answer it honestly. "I haven't made myself actual food in a long time. I've pretty much forgotten how. A little help with dinner would be nice."

"I'll order pizza," Shelly said brightly. "Stay right here."

She disappeared from her bedroom to call the pizza place, leaving Ezra alone. He hid his face in his hands. Christopher would never treat him like this.

This apartment he lived in was nothing more than a prison, constructed from societal norms and bad friends. At least Christopher's prison was made from kindness and love. He would give anything to go back.

Taglist: @devourerofcheesecake @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @thedarkmongoose @whumpsday @whump-by-robin @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @annablogsposts @whumpshaped @seetheothersideofparadise @knittedeyebrowsandcardigans @whatwasmyprevioususername @boonasaurusrex @suspicious-whumping-egg @heavenly-whumper @melancholy-in-the-morning @snakebites-and-ink @suck-my-clit-loser @i-eat-worlds @scp-1296 @chiswhumpcorner @skittles-the-whumpee @whumpkinz @dokidokisadness @enbygesserit

#Abraham original: Hot off the press #Eden #Whump #Pet whump #pet whumpee #conditioned whumpee #whump writing #Bad caretaker #Modern whump #Escaped whumpee

[momotonescreaming]

Your posts and fics about Steve not being a pushover are some of my favorite in this fandom! I was wondering if you had any thoughts or headcanons about how Steve would deal with other members of the older party, instead of the younger party? This is more so in fanon than canon, but people mocking his intelligence or being surprised he's not a douche? Thanks!

Oh!! Thank you so much!!! That really means a lot! I'm always a little nervous when I make another post about Steve's boundaries and how fanon sometimes treats him, so it's a relief to hear people like them haha. 

You raise an interesting question! And one I will admit I haven't thought about too much, actually. Most of my posts have been about Steve and Dustin, as that's what I've been thinking about lately, but you're so right that the older teens do it too. LOTS to think about. So fair disclaimer that I'm thinking and writing by the seat of my pants here. 

I do just want to start off by saying that fanon is fun! Taking canon apart and disecting it, taking out its parts and figuring out how it works is fun! Diving deep and analysing and comparing what the writers intended vs what they ended up portraying vs what the fans thought. Media analysis baby! But fanon (like canon), can't cater to everyone. I'm just a Steve girlie with a lot of feelings. Not to say canon's exempt, of course. These ideas had to have come from somewhere. And I swear that each season gets a little bit worse at turning Steve into a verbal punching bag. A joke. He was supposed to be Nancy's jerk boyfriend who died, but everyone loved Joe Keery so much they kept him alive. And now they thank him by boiling his character down to a dumb jock who was an asshole. It's tiring. 

I remember ages ago there was a post (that I cannot find for the life of me) that pointed out that in season 1 Steve says the word connoisseurs (in the scene with the camera smashing) but if they made him say that in season 4 they would have made Dustin make a comment how he didn't know Steve knew a word with that many syllables or something.

All this insulting Steve, all the canon jokes and fanon characterisation shitting on his interests and his personality and the fact that he decided to be a better person 3 years ago by the time S4 rolls around? Just feels like an excuse to shit on the jock. Revenge of the nerds. But it just makes the nerds look like bullies. Like the Duffers got bullied by jocks when they were kids and now they're making it everyone else's problem.

But to the actual point of this ask! The older party! Below the cut because this got long.

First up is Eddie! With canon Eddie a part of me doesn't think he would make fun of Steve's intelligence or call him a douche post season 4. A big part of Eddie's journey was him getting his whole world turned upside down (pun not intended). With the whole monsters thing, but also with his worldview! He thought he was confident and tough, but realised that he panicked when things got real (which I mean, fair, but that's not what we're talking about). And that he was making assumptions about people based on his own unfair biases! He canonically admits to Steve that he couldn't accept the fact that Steve is a Good Dude and the only reasons he thought he was a douche was that he has rich parents, was popular, and chicks love him. Nothing based on Steve's actions. Him turning around after all that to comment about Steve's intelligence, or bringing up his non existent assholery again just feels like a huge backslide. Doing both their characters a real disservice.

But you mentioned fanon more than canon, and there are absolutely fanon Eddie's out there who would insult Steve like that. And I gotta be honest - I don't think that Steve would take that lying down. Steve absolutely has an angry knee jerk reaction to things during this show. Back in S1, but also in S4 - when he says to Dustin that he was going to punch him so hard his teeth would fall back out. If Eddie, the new dude, decided he was going to be a jerk and insult Steve's intelligence? Steve would absolutely retort that it was fucking rich coming from the guy who failed senior year twice. Which is harsh, but I'd be angry too if I saved this guy's life and he turns around and calls me stupid for it. He'd call Eddie a hypocrite.

One thing I like about Steddie (both platonically, and romantically) is how they're on equal footing. The get along. They respect each other. Stop making Eddie a jerk to Steve for no good reason.

Eddie bringing up he thought Steve was a douche feels better than the other instances because he admits he was wrong!! Willingly! To Steve's face! But any times after? Steve would drop Eddie like a hot potato. He's not going to hang around with someone who's a dick to him for no reason. The fact that they went through the Upside Down together isn't going to make him suffer through it. Like, there's no way Steve hung out with Nancy and Jon after the breakup. No Upside Down monsters could make that less awkward.

Speaking of other instances - Robin. Stobin, my beloved. Sometimes I wonder if people actually like Steve, or if they just put up with him because him and Robin are a special deal. My thoughts on her are a little more all over the place, so bare with.

Is she a jerk to him in Season 3? Yes. But she's also a lonely, angry, teen, holding a grudge against him for no good reason. The only 2 things she says she hated him for were - he ate bagels messily in class, and that he didn't pay attention to the girl she had a crush on. Once again, nothing substantial.

But then they get tortured together, they become best friends. They get a job together again and he drives her to school. Robin canonically is the one to bring up what if they could combine into one person. She cares about Steve! She loves him so much she wants to merge with him!! And yet so much fanon has her acting like Steve is a bad rash she can't get rid of. Insulting him at every chance she gets. I get that friendships have gentle ribbing, teasing and jokes, because you know them and you know where their line in the sand is. But a lot of fanon feels like Robin rubbing salt into the wound. Taking it too far.

How many times does Steve have to apologise for being an asshole when he really wasn't that bad in the first place?

Steve reinforcing his boundaries with aggressive fanon Robin would be more chill than Eddie, I think. More like a conversation. Like, hey, you're my best friend and what you're saying is actually really hurting me? Could you please stop because it really doesn't feel like you want to be my friend since you won't stop insulting my intelligence? Robin isn't just an angry teen on her own anymore, she has a friend and the things she says has an effect. I can see him being more conservative with it than him telling Tommy & Carol that they're assholes. If he loses Robin, he goes back to his only friend being Dustin. But he'd still bring it up. He wouldn't just roll over and take it.

If she didn't listen when he talked to her like an adult? That's when he'd call her out like he did Tommy and Carol. If he can call out his best friends before, he'd do it again. It'd suck, but he needs to put himself first.

Nancy and Jon I'm still thinking about.

Jon doesn't like Steve, doesn't respect him, and canonically says mean things about Steve still, after Steve's done so much to atone, to save and help everyone. That mean joke he makes at the end of S4 about Steve being in charge? Oof.

A part of me can see Steve being like 'who cares what that guy thinks, I know myself'. But I'm afraid I just don't have a lot more on Jon. He's just not a character I'm a big fan of so I'm not as confident with his characterisation.

Nancy however? Nancy would hurt. Steve loved her, cared for her, she was there when he was trying to be better, when he was atoning. (I know that Steve says that Nancy was the bump on the head he needed, but he's wrong. He did it himself. But that's besides the point.). He went with her to the Hollands, he saved her little brother's life, him and all the party. With Billy and then in the tunnels. He opened up to her, she helped him with his college essays. She broke his heart and for her to turn around and comment on his intelligence? to call him a douche? would fucking hurt. Not at the same level as the S2 drunk bathroom bullshit convo, but it would hurt.

A part of me can see Steve doing the whole - pinch the bridge of your nose to hold back the tears and leave - thing like in S2 after the party. But a part of me could see Steve having had the time away from her to say something. But IDK. I'm not too sure on this. If she wasn't going to be mature about their breakup, about the things he told her, wasn't going to respect him and not insult him after all the things she's done? I'd say leave her behind, but I don't know if Steve would. He has a big heart. It might just be easier to take the bittersweet option and quietly let her go. Don't interact.

ANYWAY. OOF. Sorry this got so long, I was thinking and then my brain kind of ran away with me. Hopefully this was the sort of thing you were thinking? It was a fun thought experiment either way!!

#ask #anonymous #momo.txt #Stranger Things #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Robin Buckley #Jonathan Byers #Nancy Wheeler #meta #headcanon #fandom wank (to be safe) #this just all came out of me in a flood #hopefully it makes sense? #it really feels like the duffers are pushing a Jock VS Nerd agenda #(on the side of the nerd) #and some fans are eating it up

[shadowsandshapes]

FFTB | CH 7: Farewell, Good Fortune! (Dabi/F!Reader)

Summary: You've come to sever your ties to the League. All goes according to plan until Dabi corners you. He has beef and won't let you leave until it's resolved. Contains: Angst (Yes More Angst, Sue Me), Feelings Boiling Over, Spice Light (:

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It was cash. Lots of it. More than the League had ever been able to scourge up by themselves.

Shigaraki stared at the briefcase you had dropped into his lap moments earlier, eyes widening at the sight of the small fortune contained within. You quietly waited for him to process his thoughts – watching his crimson eyes shift from your face to the money and back. He was still reeling from the fact that you had barged into the safehouse without warning – after ignoring his calls for days – then you slammed the briefcase down and told him to open it. No hello or apology. It was rude. You weren’t smiling either – your whole demeanor felt so businesslike to him. Like you were a completely different person all of a sudden.

“I don’t…understand,” Shigaraki admitted. The money was nice but – why? “You vanish for days on end and then–”

“For the van,” you cut him off, not willing to go into detail about your sudden absence. “It should cover my debt to the League, right?”

Days of gambling had finally paid off. It sucked that you didn’t get to keep any of this, but it had to be done. You didn’t like loose ends. Leaving things unfinished with the League would have haunted your conscience for the rest of your life if you hadn’t done this. No matter how small or insignificant, debts had a tendency to drag you down. You wanted a clean break with these people. The first step in the process was eliminating your reason for joining in the first place.

Shigaraki tried to protest, knowing what this implied for your relationship moving forward. “Yes, it’s more than enough but –” 

“Perfect. Take the money and forget I exist.” The other members in the room stayed quiet, watching the scene unfold with bated breath. Dabi wasn’t here when you came in. Good. He might have made this more difficult for you. Even after everything he’d said to you that night, you liked him too much. Hearing him snarl and hurl insults at you for abandoning them was the last thing you needed right now. Hell, it might even have convinced you to stay. So yeah – it was a good thing he wasn’t here to stop you. “I was a fucking fool for thinking I could work with others. We’re done. Do I make myself clear? If any of you contact me again, I will retaliate.”

Your words stung. A quick scan of their faces hit you with a twinge of doubt and regret – but you ignored it. Toga specifically seemed distraught but didn’t say anything. Not even as you made your exit and left without saying goodbye. It was hard but you kept a straight face. Somehow, this felt worse than leaving your family behind. Dabi was right. You couldn’t be trusted. Neither could they. Every single person in that room was a villain. Capable of great evil. Yourself included. Even if you had the best intentions with them, your Quirk would ruin things eventually. This was for the best.

Barely two steps into the hall you spotted the man himself, leaning against the opposite next to the doorway. 

Fucking shit. This couldn’t have gone smoothly. Something just had to go wrong.

Dabi must have been waiting for you to leave. Waiting to catch you alone and off-guard so he could enjoy tormenting you one last time. You steeled yourself. Preparing for whatever insult he would hurl your way. Just like the first day you’d met, Dabi stood between you and the only way out. No sea of flames this time. Though that could still change. You rolled your eyes at the coincidence. Irony had a funny way of slipping into your life like that.

“You’ve got a lotta fuckin’ nerve showing your face here, Lucky.”

Dabi called you a lot of names. Not all of them were nice and some were downright cruel. However, that nickname had always been off-limits – he knew that better than anyone. Which meant Dabi was deliberately being disrespectful. Seemed like he was still looking to make you feel miserable before this was all over. Like some kind of fucked up parting gift.

You shrugged.  “Get off my back. After tonight, you’ll never have to see my pretty fuckin’ face ever again. I made sure of it.”

“That right?” he pushed off the wall, positioning himself in your path directly. There was no way past him unless you decided to use force – which you weren’t too keen on trying against a guy who could fold you like a lawn chair. “You in a hurry to go somewhere? I thought you and me might have a little chat.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

You tried to leave by squeezing past but Dabi was quick to react. The deep chuckle that reverberated in his chest was the only warning you got before his hand wrapped around your throat. Putting pressure on your windpipe, he used his strength to back you up against the wall in an instant. Dabi was mesmerized by your slightly parted lips. The way they moved to suck in a shallow, desperate breath as you gasped in surprise. So sweet and plump. Backed into a corner with your pretty eyes staring right at him. Right where he wanted you. His hand captured your chin and forced your eyes to look at him. Thumb playing at the edge of your lip. Your breathing picked up, fanning against his digit as he dragged it back and forth and watched your reaction like a man obsessed.

"Running away from me, huh?" He questioned. "That's no good. Thought you were tougher than that, my pretty little girl."

You couldn't think straight. He was too damn close. What the fuck was his deal anyway? Dabi was the reason you chose to break ties with the League in the first place. He'd called you a liar and a weak link. Made you feel inferior and small compared to everyone else. Yet now that he had you up against a wall, your heart was racing like crazy. Thumping against your ribcage with no sign of slowing down.

Here you were. Right in front of him. That empty feeling in his gut was finally settling down enough to be bearable. Dabi found it extremely gratifying to watch your eyes frantically dart behind him in a feeble attempt to escape his attention. It was no use. He was determined to hold onto you. Even if he didn’t fully understand where this obsession had come from or what it meant. All he knew was that, without you, his mind knew no peace. Your smile – your laugh – the way you snarled in disgust when he dipped his fries into a milkshake. The memories of your time together plagued his dreams at night, bleeding into his waking moments whenever you were away. You had to stay. One way or another, he had to keep you close like this so you could pay for what you’d done to him. 

So he could figure out why he was acting like such a pathetic loser.

His silent pondering was cut short by your nails digging into his wrist. You tugged at his hand, trying to get him back off and release your face. “Let me go,” you demanded – the bite of your voice almost ferocious enough to move him.

It was a good effort on your part but the struggling only made him want to hold on tighter. 

Dabi smirked – making a show of blocking your escape by placing his free hand against the wall next to you. Your eyes flickered to the arm briefly then right back to his face. “No.” He whispered the word with terrifying confidence. It clung to the silence, making it grow heavier with every passing second.

What happened next was the single most confusing thing you’d ever experienced. 

Dabi’s lips descended onto your own. You protested weakly at first as he drove his mouth against yours, squirming against his grip as he trapped you in with his body. You should be livid – do something to fight him off but, despite your initial shock, you began melding into the touch. If anything, your pent-up fury only fueled the need for more. You grabbed the edge of his coat with both hands and pulled him closer. Teeth gnashing against his lips as your anger manifested into a vicious bite. Dabi couldn’t control himself. He groaned as your teeth sank into his bottom lip. Your taste was addicting. Days of frustration all came pouring out as he kissed you. The feeling of your soft skin – your beautifully annoyed moans as you pushed back against him – it was almost too much for Dabi to handle. It brought him unbridled relief. 

His bliss was cut short when you regained your senses, abruptly shoving him off you. Dabi stumbled back, only able to watch on as your face ran through every emotion known to man. You struggled to catch your breath – aggressively wiping his saliva from your lips with the back of your hand. This – wasn’t really happening, was it? Every thought in your head was deafeningly incoherent. Nothing made sense. Your heart couldn’t stop racing – its thundering beat drowning out all other sounds. You didn’t know how this was supposed to make you feel. Dabi hated you. He said so himself. Fucking hell – this was all so damn confusing. You staggered backward, putting your hand out to stop Dabi from approaching you when he moved to do so.

“Get the fuck out of my face.” Dabi’s satisfied smirk vanished as you spoke. “I don’t – you can’t just –! Is this a joke? It’s not funny.” There were so many things you wanted to say, but couldn’t. The words just wouldn’t come out. Your mind was a mess. Today was supposed to be the end of your time with the League. Dabi was supposed to disappear from your life so he couldn’t hurt you anymore. 

Why was your heart set on telling you you wanted this? 

“(Y/n) –”

“Don’t talk to me!”

You didn’t need him – you deserved better.

In response to the mounting commotion, several members of the League peeked their heads into the hall – just in time to watch you scowl and scream at their resident arsonist. You glanced at them as they appeared, remembering what you had come here to do. Enough was enough. These feelings were too overwhelming to deal with right now. You’d worry about them once you were far away from this godforsaken place.

“Go fuck yourself, Dabi –” you breathed out, unable to steady your voice with all of these overwhelming emotions coursing through your veins.

He didn’t say anything – just watched as you left, abhorred and confused by the pure distress reflected in your eyes. That was his fault. You were never going to come back. Dabi stood frozen in the hall for a moment. Alone with his thoughts. None of his comrades dared to utter a word, slinking back into the briefing room before they got in trouble. He hadn’t meant to kiss you. It just happened. The plan was to put you in your place. To confront you and break this spell you had cast. But you looked so beautiful when you were angry and he was desperate. Obsessed with making the hollow feeling in his chest go away. For a moment it did, but now the nauseating sensation was worse than it had ever been.

Why did he do that? What was the fucking point?

Dabi didn’t understand. His fingers traced his lips. The ghost of your kiss still lingered on them. Your sweet and bitter taste. The anger in your bite had bruised him, a faint smear of blood leaking from the cut. You were not going to abandon him like this. He would make sure of that. Even if Dabi had to burn down the city in search of you – he would find you and put a stop to this. There was no place he wouldn’t be able to track you down.

Dabi had friends in low places. If you made a move – he would know – and he would be there.

A/N: g i g g l e So? How'd you like your first kiss? It's gonna get better soon. And by 'soon' I mean the next chapter. We've reached the mid-point of the story! Holy shit!! I can't believe we're here already. Shit's gonna get really personal soon. I can't wait. Unfortunately, my backlog of chapters is becoming quite short so now I have to focus on the draft again.

Taglist: @kelin-is-writing @dynamars @dabislittlemouse @simpysheep @ohnoitsthatonekid

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#shade's fftb #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x female reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya x y/n #touya x reader #touya x you #mha dabi #bnha dabi

[babytarttdoodoo]

⭐star⭐

Thank you! Let's chat a bit about 'effort to make it look effortless' and, specifically, Nate and Jamie's coach-player dynamic.

Nate resented Jamie's return in S2 (and blamed Ted for allowing it). Worse, it was so glaringly obvious the longer it went on that Jamie had actually, genuinely changed.

When someone who hurt you, who singled you out and made you feel weak, is trying to be better, what are you supposed to do with all that anger? The fact that Nate now had power over Jamie adds a whole other dimension.

It's always been interesting to me that Nate used his position as coach to lash back at Colin, but not at Jamie. There are a few reasons that seem plausible: the team needs Jamie and Nate recognises that, he still views Jamie as an intimidating figure, both Ted and Roy are weirdly intense about Jamie so Nate didn't want to risk his job, or he didn't think harsh words would really make a dent in an ego of that size.

All this boils down to one thing: not engaging with Jamie was easier.

Post-S3, he doesn't get that option. He's part of a much more hands-on coaching team now. Jamie is their star player and Roy is even more intense about it. Besides which, Nate has mostly let go of his anger as a whole.

So he coaches him and Jamie listens. He's a great player and a hard worker and he kind of deserves to have an ego the size of England, actually. Except he doesn't flaunt it as much. He smiles at Nate and thanks him for good advice. He's surprisingly strategy-minded and understands the plays Nate puts forward. He's a dream to watch.

He's likable. What the fuck is Nate supposed to do with that?

In 'look effortless' and a bit in 'poster kid', Nate is more awkward with Jamie than anyone else. He's putting up a professional front because he wouldn't mind being Jamie's friend as well as his coworker and coach.

But he hasn't quite figured out how to forgive him yet.

#fic: look effortless #ask box games #jamie tartt #nate shelley

[mdhwrites]

Do you think flapjack's death was pointless? I don't mean that his sacrifice didn't work, but did it really have to happen? Cause it always made me mad.

The main reason he died was because Belos managed to survive the Colector's SMACK DOWN, and infiltrate in the human world. And he did nothing there till he possessed Hunter. Did THAT have to happen? Besides giving Hunter more torments I don't see it necessary, he could've stayed in the BI playing dead, be more prepared like this for when the gang comes back.

Congrats. You got me to watch like ten minutes of S3 because I wanted to include potential changes to Hunter's arc or abuse allegories, etc. like that in this.

If you want to see the rage I got from it, go check my Twitter where I'm usually more unhinged than on here. Just... I can see why I got the impression people weren't impressed with the first special.

Anyways, onto the actual topic: So Belos coming back is as much a structural thing than anything else while both him and Flapjack also serve narrative purposes. Weirdly enough, Belos serves the more important ones than the character who DIES. So, like with Vee and Caleb, let's establish narrative goals.

Special 1 was always going to be about getting back to the Boiling Isles. From when they were first announced post King's Tide, I claimed the structure would be Act 1: Get back to the Isles, Act 2: Prepare to fight the Collector/the return to the Isles and Act 3: Confrontation and resolution. So narrative goal number one, above anything else, is getting back to the Isles because it's a natural end point for an act/episode, they don't have the time to spend two specials in the human realm but there is a problem.

The show decided that witches don't lose their magic in the human realm. Only Luz does. So you have three of the strongest magic users of their ages, perhaps on the Isles, in a world without magic at full power if they so desired. And Hunter but Hunter's never allowed to be impressive in anyway when it comes to his skill set. This presents a problem for an adventure like TOH because... What do you have oppose them in the human realm? They have no villains setup, no government presence like Amphibia did, no time to set things up and you've made your characters too powerful for the majority of threats in the magical realm, let alone the human realm.

So instead, Belos serves the structural role of giving the first special an opponent to fight. In theory. This is actually done really poorly. While Hunter's possession and worries in the episode elongate this a bit, the actual opposition to Belos is brief and so rushed as to lack weight. He shows up, show's he's an overconfident idiot for some reason instead of actually just killing Luz because dumb villains are good villains I guess? Then after a bit of fighting where Belos pretty succinctly wins, he hurts Flapjack, that finally gets Hunter to properly rebel against the control, save Hunter, Belos exits Hunter, opens the portal and leaves. All of this happens in like... the span of five minutes because I only watched like ten minutes of the episode.

That's not a lot of time to put it mildly. Worse yet is Belos leaving. Him winning in Hunter's body actually makes sense because the Hexide crew appeared to be losing pretty hard when it was all five of them back in King's Tide and Belos doesn't appear to have actually been weakened by being almost killed by the Collector. Which, yes, is a problem, Monster Belos magic wise is ALL problems but that's a different blog. The bigger issue is with the fact that no one else dies in that fight.

Belos won. Belos proved he has nothing to fear from these kids. So, instead of, you know, finishing the job, he claims he's doing this for their souls (despite most of them being witches) smashes the vile against a stone arch and successfully makes a portal to the demon realm.

Without any other items, tech, magic or anything, just... makes a portal door... by smashing Titan Blood...

*SCREAMS INCOHERENTLY*

I'm back. Anyways, the point of covering all of that is A: to demonstrate how pointedly he existed just for this moment and a fight, since once that role was done he moved onto B: the second narrative role Belos gave them: A way back through the portal. After all, they didn't have the mouse, probably didn't have Philip's journal and Luz's first version of the portal didn't work. Them actually managing to create a way back to the Isles would have been forced and contrived almost no matter what with the time they had, and it still is with the simple question of why the fuck the Titan Blood was there and every follow up question to any attempt at an explanation for it, but Belos at least has the claim of having done this a couple times already. Honestly, I expected them to use the fact that Gus blipped into Belos' mind but just having Belos do it in theory works.

It fails of course because it breaks everything we've ever seen about the portal doors before and we have no real reason to think this archway, which should have eroded and been damaged by four hundred years of neglect in theory, should be enough to make the portal work. Bare minimum, we have no reason to think it should have successfully linked the worlds like it did. Worse yet is that you can't claim that Belos did something inside of it because the portal in King's Tide immediately is tied between worlds so it appears to be something you do during creation.

Or fuck it because we don't have an actual answer, never did and we sure as shit don't have time now. Instead, Belos makes it and leaves for no reason other than I guess he decided he had better things to do than kill these kids who have stopped him once and almost stopped him again.

Which finally brings us to Flapjack. Now... Let's ignore anything to be said about how ruinous it is to the possible disability allegory the show had available to Hunter. Hunter's disability never mattered in the first place. This isn't even just questioning how much it shaped him but more that his skillset isn't of a fighter who learned to make do without magic. The show makes sure that he always had magic and when he didn't, he was always portrayed as easily beat, made a fool of, etc. like that minus one moment in Hunting Palisman. That's it.

No, let's instead focus on the fact that it feels like it's meant to be a shock death and not much else. A moment where you prove just how evil the mass murdering, genocidal villain is by having them kill one of the protagonist's friends. Of course, kid's show, so one of theirs pets will have to do.

It's even framed the same way any death like that is. Everyone is powerless to do anything, the last person standing is trying in vain to do something against an overwhelming threat and things are proven to be FO SHO REAL AND SERIOUS through their murder. One liner like Belos' not necessary but pretty common.

To be fair, this does allow for a good moment as to when Hunter is theoretically moved to start fighting back against Belos which is a pretty classic trope. I wish Hunter's speech was less self centered and less about all the good perks of being a good guy and instead renouncing what he'd done, who he was and the morals that Belos had inflicted on him. Remember, it's "I don't want to be a part of the EC" and only stopping Belos from hurting more people. This is why it doesn't change my opinion of Hunter's arc because I don't see much real change in his morality. The only thing that has changed is that if it meant proving himself to Luz, he'd still murder anyone she considered bad and that's not good character growth. Remember, chasing after Belos was even motivated by the need to prove he wasn't crazy and make Luz believe him.

So Flapjack's death barely works for making Belos seem anymore threatening because he ditches the chance to kill the rest and was already supremely evil, failed to fix Hunter's character arc despite this episode deciding Hunter needed a big arc finish moment (and still fucked it up)... What was the point of the death?

I don't really know. The worst part of it to me besides the disability allegory issues is that it ends with Hunter gaining magic the same way Belos did. The only reason Hunter doesn't now have a monster bird form or a curse is that he was given the magic. But otherwise, we can presume Belos likely gained magic by eating Palisman, that those juices that come out of them can give magic, and that's how Hunter gets his.

And for cheap angst, despite it not changing anything really or having a major impact on things, unless tomorrow proves me wrong, they chose to do this with Flapjack's death. Because drama and WoUlD oThEr KiD's ShOwS dO tHi- Marcy's stabbing was more dramatic and the situation that put her in was more narratively important, regardless of how messily it was handled.

And I think people felt that. I heard people saying that the second special, despite the fact that from an outside perspective it sounds like 90% filler, was better than the first. Almost across the board that was the opinion I'd heard. And, well, between what I watched and what I've seen through Twitter... I'm not surprised.

And at some point, it's not just the shortening's fault. The shortening is going to make things feel rushed. They don't need to feel lazy for that though or feel cheap and/or mean. This is pretty much the same thing I've been saying about Luz since Yesterday's Lie though and the show has never seemed to be worried that.

So why worry with a disposable pet and the villain who really should not have been the final villain? =========

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead, If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

#belos the owl house #Belos TOH #flapjack the owl house #the owl house criticism

[mourntheantagonist]

Trigonometry

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

warning: explicit. check ao3 for detailed tag list.

read on ao3

Catching his breath felt like chasing a runaway train—impossible, at least on his own two feet. Fortunately for Steve, he was on his back in a soft warm bed, where if he passed out from a lack of oxygen, at least he wouldn’t hit his head on the way down.

He could feel his heart pounding, hell, he could hear it. It was so loud, so strong, beating through his chest like a parasite trying to escape through his rib cage. His chest heaved, rising and falling without a discernible tempo, chaotic, heavy, labored.

He let his neck relax and his head fall to his left, cheek against his pillow, looking at the occupant of the other side of his bed that was making the sheets feel warm. It was a quick glance, long enough to notice the way she was laying. She was on her side, turned towards him. Her folded arms had come to lay on top of each other, hiding her bare chest, her hands creating a pillow for her head. The thin white sheet on his bed had only come up to cover her just below the waist, draping her hips like a present to be unwrapped.

Steve turned his head back up at the ceiling the moment he caught her eyes looking back at him. She had been laying there, posed like a Greek statue, he should have been ogling her. Normally he’d be smiling, grinning like an absolute fool, but Steve was more focused on his breathing. His heavy, uncontrolled breathing. The breathing that seemed like it should have been a good thing, but, by taking one look at Nancy, was quickly realized to be just the opposite—a bad thing…a really bad thing.

There was an obvious cause for such breathing, or at least, it would appear that way to anyone with the ability to see the scene. He had a Greek goddess, perfectly sculpted, draped in soft linens, naked right beside him. The logical conclusion would be that she had been the perpetrator for such chaotic respiration. Surely, Nancy Wheeler was the girl who rocked Steve’s world.

Steve closed his eyes and tried to tame his lungs, but he couldn’t get the images flashing before his eyes like visions of the past to disappear. Flashbacks. It hadn’t been a daydream or fantasy, it was worse than that, because it was real.

He could smell the scent of Billy’s cheap shampoo.

The water was hot that day, to Steve’s surprise. Normally after gym they could only get the water to run to a nice lukewarm temperature, but that day, for some reason, they had steam.

Or maybe Steve had just been imagining that part, too caught up in the way Billy had been staring at him, looking him up and down without any sense of shame or defense of his own pride.

“You looked better this time, pretty boy.” Billy had said, maybe in reference to his performance on the court—he did sink a three pointer against him during their scrimmage—but with the way Billy was dragging his teeth across his lower lip, his eyes locked in on the center of Steve’s chest, Steve had an inkling it may have been in reference to just that, and the fact Steve had been playing skins that day.

It was very possible that the temperature of the water only felt the way it had because Billy was there, like an open flame making it boil. Billy made him feel hot, so hot, so fucking hot.

It was no surprise to Steve that when Billy touched him, just a squeeze of his shoulder as he walked past him through the showers, it felt like hot lava, melting his skin off all the way down to the bone.

The feeling remained like a phantom, the hand constantly there, squeezing, suggesting…

He couldn’t get the whole thing out of his head. It was just there, a constant memory of stolen glances and eyes that traveled to the southern half of his body.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it—about Billy—no matter how fucking hard he tried.

It had invaded his every thought, to the point that he’d sit in class chewing on the erasers of his pencil because it was the only thing that kept him grounded enough in reality to focus on trigonometry problems and not the fuzzy, aching feeling in his gut.

The same fuzzy, aching feeling in his gut he felt lying next to Nancy, still unable to breathe, still with his heart beating out of his chest.

It came to a head only a few days after the moment in the shower, the same day he and Nancy shared a bed and Steve couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t planned. Steve sure as shit wasn’t seeking the guy out, in fact, he’d been running from him—or, well, the thought of him. The feeling had become overwhelming. The phantom touch stung and his stomach had descended down to his ankles, trying so hard to keep himself in check until the final bell rang so he could deal with the gnawing sensation in his pants.

He couldn’t, though. Like he was thirteen again, he excused himself to the bathroom, sporting a hopefully invisible semi. He didn’t have time to think about all that it meant, and he didn’t want to, in fact, he was trying desperately not to.

In Steve’s attempts at avoiding the question, he stumbled into the answer the second he walked through the door to the boys bathroom.

Billy was standing there at the urinal, dick out, his stream of piss still active, and Steve only wished he could say he knew Billy had his dick out by logic alone. Pointing to the fact that hey, he was standing by a urinal and he could hear the splattering stream, he just put two and two together. Simple process of deduction. But no, Steve knew because he was looking.

He was standing there, just a foot from the door, like a deer caught in the headlights, staring at Billy’s dick, and he suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“Like what you see?” Billy asked, like an accusation, and Steve didn’t know why he was surprised Billy had said anything. It wasn’t like he was subtle, he was the exact opposite of subtle.

Steve gave Billy’s question no response other than bowing his head, only enough so that it appeared he wasn’t looking, which he definitely still was. He could see that Billy knew he still was.

He watched as Billy rolled his eyes and tucked himself back into his jeans, flushing the urinal and walking over to the sink. That was when Steve felt the kick to his gut. His limbs were vibrating, his heart was pounding, he was grinding his teeth and pinching the skin on his hand so hard it left a mark. He didn’t know where his mind was headed, just that it was running away from him, and in his attempt to catch up with his own thoughts, he allowed his body to give into the temptation standing there on the other side of the bathroom.

Steve walked towards Billy like he was on a mission, and he noticed a subtle shift in Billy’s demeanor as he made his way over. There were three shifts in total in just the span of five seconds. First, he looked annoyed, still rolling his eyes. Then, as Steve got closer and his steps became much heavier, he looked almost frightened, jerking his head away as Steve laid his hand on his chest, palm flat, pushing him into the cinder block wall.

Then, as Billy’s back hit the hard surface, he turned into something else, something not annoyed or scared or even angry—excited.

Steve had his hand pressed firmly into Billy’s shoulder, like he was trying to hold him down and keep him from moving so much as even an inch from where he had pinned him.

They were so close that Steve could feel Billy’s heart beating against his, or, maybe that was just his own, maybe it was Billy who was feeling his heart beating. The fact remained that they were close. Their legs were slotted together, and Steve just knew that Billy could feel it against his thigh, he knew and it made his face heat up at the thought.

He inhaled sharply when he finally opened his eyes all the way, meeting Billy’s gaze at perfect level, so close, noses touching, the two of them breathing the other in, the sweat, cologne, and pheromones were like oxygen to Steve. His breaths were shaky and uncontrolled and every part of his body felt stuck in fixed form.

He didn’t exactly have a plan, and if he did, it would not have included any of the steps that he’d already taken that had got him from point A to point B. If he knew what he was doing, he wouldn’t have Billy pinned to a wall, rock hard in his pants against Billy’s thigh, mouth hung open just inches from Billy’s. He was without a plan, without directions, so he stood there frozen, trying to figure out how to turn off of the road he was cruising down.

“What are you waiting for, pretty boy?” Billy’s voice was deep and sultry, ringing in his ears like the bass in a song. He felt it everywhere from his head to his toes, overcoming him like a wave, pulling him under and drowning him. Water in his ears. Water up his nose. Everything was blocked off and plugged up and he couldn’t hear, breathe, or see anymore. Not enough that it mattered anyway.

Steve knew he missed his turnoff several miles ago, and it was dumb to think he could veer off the road by the time he’d had Billy pinned to the wall. He was driving on a cliff's edge, nowhere to turn, only forward. Steve wouldn’t have allowed it if he had any other choice, or maybe he would have, he still didn’t know if the water had been that hot that day in the showers. He let his own confusion win, surging forward, slamming his lips into Billy’s and clutching the fabric of his jacket so tight his fist cramped, searching with his lips, driven by curiosity to find answers to the questions he didn’t want to have in the first place.

Billy tasted like cigarettes and cinnamon.

That was the taste Steve still had in his mouth when he filled up his condom, thrusting into Nancy. She certainly had curly hair, very frizzy and untamed where she was laying underneath him. But she certainly wasn’t blonde, not like the person who he’d been thinking about when he came harder than he could ever remember.

The whole time, he pretended as if Nancy’s dainty and soft hands were big, calloused and strong, gripping him tightly and leaving little crescent shaped indentations. He pretended her breaths were Billy’s, and her warmth was Billy’s, and it was so bad, horrible, because it felt so fucking good.

Nancy had seen him turn away from her. He knew she had. He knew he fucked up. He couldn’t breathe.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, and Steve almost laughed. Instead, he brought his hands up to cover his face, dragging them down, groaning, not doing much to quell the idea that something was wrong. He took a deep breath, but didn’t answer her question, at least not with words anyway.

“Steve,” she said, rolling over and placing a hand on his chest, running her fingers through the coarse hair, “talk to me.”

Steve just brought his hands back up and didn’t drag them down that time. He covered his face and let the tears that were pricking at his eyes escape and roll down his cheeks. He loved Nancy. He hated lying to her. He didn’t want to hurt her. Yet, there he was, trying to pick which one of those to ignore because he couldn’t tell the truth without hurting her, and he couldn’t protect her without lying to her…well…he thought…she would get hurt either way, wouldn’t she?

“I kissed Billy.” his voice was muffled behind his hands, the words forced, pushed out of his mouth with an unexpected punch.

“Huh?”

Steve took a deep breath and removed his hands from his face, still avoiding Nancy’s gaze, wondering if she had noticed his tear-streaked cheeks yet. He felt the weight of the words leave him as he said it for the second time, clear, precise, unable to be misheard. “I kissed Billy Hargrove.”

Nancy didn’t react, at least not in a way that Steve noticed. The only thing he noticed was the way her hand stopped moving on his chest.

“Did you kiss him, or did he kiss you?” Her voice was flat, and guarded, and Steve could tell that behind her monotonous tone there was fear for the answer, and that was something he could relate to. Steve, even in his risky exploration in the bathroom during school hours, still hadn’t reached one of his own. But it was like he was halfway through solving the problem, so close, like all that was left was to simplify.

Funny. If only the situation could be so easily simplified.

Steve didn’t answer her question, and he knew that his silence was an answer enough by the way Nancy moved away from him and pulled the sheets off of the bed to cover herself up, standing up onto her feet and picking her discarded clothes up off of the ground.

Steve, in a pathetic attempt at an apology, reached an arm out towards her only to have it slapped away. “Nancy, I’m so sorry—”

“Save it, Steve.” She kept herself covered while getting dressed, as if to make a point—to tell Steve that he didn’t get to see her naked anymore. “Were you thinking about him while we—” she cut herself off, and Steve was partly grateful that she had, and disgusted with himself at the same time because he was.

And she was waiting for him to deny it. He could tell, like she had cut herself off half expecting Steve to do it for her, and when he hadn’t, well, she had gotten her answer once again.

“Nancy please, just listen, I—”

“No, Steve.” she said, clipping her bra together and pulling on her shirt. “I’m not talking to you about this right now, I need time to process.”

“Nancy, please just talk to me.” Steve was practically begging by that point, crawling all the way to the other side of the bed, hiding himself with just a pillow on his lap, hardly appearing as composed or as decent as Nancy was. Somehow, Steve was the only one visibly upset. Nancy’s anger only showed through with her words.

“I’m leaving, Steve.” her voice was stern, and almost calm, which was what surprised him the most. “I am being more than reasonable right now. I would be well within my rights to dump you.”

Steve held his tongue, biting the inside of his cheek, trying to come up with the words to say knowing the best thing to say was to say nothing at all. It was in his nature to sit there and throw more apologies her way. I’m sorry after I’m sorry after I’m sorry until one finally stuck. It was like throwing darts, simple odds, if he threw enough surely he’d hit a bullseye, which would be great if darts didn’t impale with sharp points. Each apology would just hurt her a little bit more.

He just sat there holding his breath. He watched her walk out the door of his bedroom, listening to the sound of her feet clacking against the wood stairs, left only to hope that what she said would come true, and that maybe he hadn’t ruined everything.

Steve threw himself down onto his bed, back flat, trying to relax a body that just couldn’t.

No amount of optimism could change the fact that Steve Harrington was fucked.

#harringrove #stancy #billy hargrove #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #stranger things #mandi writes tresh

[drifloonz]

btw i never posted this but conceptual pokemon teams for steven. one is mainly pre-incident while the one after is After The Incident ( since yk he canonically releases all his pokemon and goes willingly broke after miki dies. )

pre incident team ( he released like all of these. except miki obviously ):

post incident:

reasonings below ( its long i apologize )

PRE-INCIDENT TEAM ; here's a discord screenshot i put for general info lol anyways suicide cw in the screenshot ( just a mention though but yk. heavy shit )

miki - its miki. do you need me to give explanation. part of me just kind of took a few strangled red fics interpretation of why/how steven has miki ( aka he found her in the rain in pallet town and he didnt even wanna be a trainer - inspired by faulty on ao3 )

pidgeot - first pokemon caught other than miki for probably obvious reasons. he also needed a pokemon to use fly - a lot of his pre incident team is just for tms or for backup but he used like almost exclusively miki bc mikis OVERPOWERED

haunter - steven doesnt go into pokemon tower until after the incident, but i like to think somehow he met a gastly and it just kept following him until he caught it. ( im too lazy to remake the team but bc of this it prob should b a gastly in this image )

Fun fact; Personally i think the gastly in Strangled that lets you into his house is his gastly. why the fuck else would it be there. after steven releases all his mons it still follows him around and tries to get people to help them by moving the stones that block his house, but accidentally makes it worse bc steven just attacks people who come into his home at that time. oopsy.

sandshrew - i dont have a lot to say abt this one it just kinda fits + for tms probably ( sandshrew. learns a lot of tms. )

lapras - likely just for surf but theres probably more i could add to this my brains just not thinking

chansey - gifted by daisy! either as a happiny or just. as a chansey. it's honestly more of an emotional support mon than it is an actual battling mon

_______

POST INCIDENT TEAM ; ( once again discord screenshot w general info )

there's more post-incident teams, i made like 3, which is why it says he has pokemon that it doesnt seem like he has in the second images. few notable examples are zoroark, gallade, chandelure, hydreigon, gourgeist, and phantump ( ... the phantump is probably a kid he killed ( maybe in strangled ) that follows him arnd since he probably lives in a forest LOL )

miki - she's now fucked up and glitched since its post-incident. he technically has multiple fucked up missingno'd versions of her canonically. Do not ask why

mega absol - it's a disaster pokemon. it follows him arnd and doesn't leave him around bc he's constantly got disasters happening arnd him. he IS the disaster at this point. also i kind of stole this concept from a steven twitter rp account, iirc bc its a really good concept. i like to think he kind of resents it but he still technically Has it

mega houndoom - u can't tell me he wouldn't have a houndoom. steven HAS dog owner energy. also absol and houndoom r mega just bc i think they go hard and their designs fit better w steven. idk if steven would actually have mega evolution shit.

mawile - he would. idk why but he would

staraptor - he doesnt have pidgeot anymore so he got a staraptor, ig. i don't know why he'd have one it just fits

luxray - literally all of these last 3 boil down to "it just fits."

#wispy chatters #headcanons #steven strangled red

[famousfilmsfan]

Fazbear Ruins Everything is a parody of ‘Adam Ruins Everything’ an edutainment show on TLC.

Fazbear Ruins The Bad Business Owner Plush.

(takes place during season 2)

Bryan: Hey guys, what’s this about? *shows his jacket it now has ‘Bad business owner’ spray painted on it*

Freddy: What? It’s true.

Bryan: No it isn't. I’m a good business owner.

Lefty: No, you’re not. The company says so as well as our systems, and they’re never wrong. It’s scientific.

A Freddy model pops out of he bushes.

Fazbear: Actually it’s not. It’s just an excuse animatronics use to mistreat people.

Lefty and Freddy jump.

Lefty: Who's this?

Bryan: That’s Fazbear, he came out of the portal...I can't get him to leave.

Freddy: Okay...But are you sure about that? I mean, who says it’s not?

Fazbear: Well for one it’s not ‘Scientific’ there are no studies made about the process, mostly because the process is just a guessing game. Let me show you.

He drags the animatronics into a room. Inside is just a computer and a desk.

Fazbear: Whenever a person joins the company as a franchise owner their picture is taken and sent over to a system which decides if they’re ‘Good’ or ‘Bad’ at it.

The computer shows an 8-bit style of his process.

Fazbear: Then it’s sent to your processers and everyone takes it as facts.

Lefty: Yeah that’s because they are.

Fazbear: Oh really? What do yours say about Bryan?

Lefty: That’s he’s a narcissist man child. Duh

Fazbear: Oh really? And have you ever seen him act like a narcissist man child?

Lefty: Well..he cares about himself a lot.

Fazbear: Really? So he shows no empathy towards anyone, and he thinks he’s the best at everything?

Lefty: Well..no.

Fazbear: Then he isn't a narcissist, the only reason you think so is because of- *throws a blanket over the computer* Bob.

He removes it and it shows a Polar bear animatronic.

Fazbear: He’s actually a computer but the animatronic is more dramatic. Bob gets the pictures and a brief description of them and he types in what status they have.

Lefty: But they haven't even started working. That makes no sense.

Fazbear: Exactly, the whole system is broken. And it gets worse.

Freddy: Oh hell.

(Scene break)

Fabzear: Now have you ever wondered how the process of who is good and bad is made?

Lefty: Through hard research?

Freddy: Psychology analysis?

Fazbear; You’re both wrong. It’s more of a game of ‘Bang kill marry’

Bob: *cycles through pictures* Good, bad, bad, perfect, bad, good, bad, Ick! Bad!

Lefty: Wait he’a not even reading the description.

Fazbear: Yeah he isn't. A study on the program showed it just analyses the person face and what they’re wearing to determine what their status is.

A bar graph is shown.

Fazbear: An experiment was conducted where six people wearing identical clothing were shown to the program. The one's dressed formally we're given Perfect status, casual clothing was given good, and ‘sloppy’ were given bad status each time.

Lefty: Sloppy? What does that even mean?

Fazbear: Nobody knows, because Bob refuses to let anyone else weigh in on these decisions.

The polar bear has put a curtain around the desk so nobody sees it.

Lefty: So it all boils down to some random programs opinions? Are they even true?

Fazbear: Most of the time no, all his assumptions on their ability to run a business is only correct 0.5% of the time. Not even 1%. That means every single person is given a mean status by an AI that doesn't know anything about them, before they even start working.

Lefty: Then...why do they believe them?

Fazbear: Great question, unfortunately these opinions are taken as fact by the animatronics. And the majority, refuse to even acknowledge that it can be incorrect. The only reason is ‘The system is never wrong’

A bonnie Model is shown.

Bonnie: Okay, I know my owner and he’s super nice and well put together...but my system says he’s a bipolar sociopath..

Fazbear: That’s not an exaggeration that happens on Maryland, animatronics gave their owner copious amounts of medication to their owner without his knowledge for six months. He eventually overdosed and almost died.

Lefty: Jesus Christ. Why does this system still exist?

Fazbear: Like most things, it’s due to corporate greed. It started when the system was first introduced in the late 2000s. When a man in marketing decided that making the system would inspire franchise owners to work harder to get ‘Perfect’ status. It was sent to animatronic remotely from the computer BOB itself. The company knows that the system is severely broken, several CEOs and board members have said so.

‘The good business owner is a goal to work towards not a label’ -Henry Emily

Lefty: So why?

Fazbear: They do it to make sure their franchisers work and make them more money, they don't care about their employee's mental health and frankly they encourage this treatment. Look at these real pages from a manual from HR. *opens a book*

‘If someone calls and complains about their status tell them to suck it up and work’

‘If they say their animatronics hate them, tell them that it’s their fault’

‘Make sure to send Bad, and Good owners plushies of Perfect owners to encourage them to work more’

Lefty; What? Are these real? They’re mean *takes the book*

Fazbear: And real effective.

They return to the small table they started at.

Fazbear: This whole ‘Good and bad’ system is utter nonsense that’s only there to emotionally blackmail employees, set unrealistic expectations, and are made by a program which makes sure to not be correct.

Freddy: So what do we do?

Fazbear: Frankly, nobody can do anything this system is grandfathered in, the only way for it to change is for the whole company to go through a makeover which will probably never happen.

Bryan: Now, have anything to say?

Freddy: Fine...I’m...Sorry.

Lefty: So am I.

Bryan: Good.

#thefamousfilms #fnaf 6 #mcfnafverse #headcanons

[ichayalovesyou]

I’m asking. Which Pike trait draws you in the most and why? Feel free to talk about more than one.

I think the biggest things are that he wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s vulnerable without sacrificing his professionalism or command of his crew. He’s humble and nurturing, and has an overactive sense of self sacrifice.

There are captains who bottle things up and act as though they have sacrifice making personal connections (beyond what they already have) as the burden of being captain (Picard, Janeway and Burnham come to mind). While other captains are more emotional and friendly but still struggle being honest with themselves (Kirk and Sisko come to mind). He’s the first captain that feels, if not we’ll adjusted, more in tune with taking responsibility for his emotions.

The primary example that I feel sets him apart from the others being that he doesn’t just sit on the fact he saw his own death and let it fester, at least not once he’s back on duty. He tells both people cares about what he thinks will happen that he’s legally allowed to disclose it to. He didn’t have to do that technically because he outranks them, he also goes beyond even that and voiced his concerns in respect to his own command. A lot of other captains would have waited until they made a poor command decision before feeling compelled to talk about that. Somewhat grim “no one dies” speech aside. He’s an open book beyond the call of duty.

Generally, he’s principled but not so stubborn as to ignore his prejudices and shortcomings (see, learning to trust Ash), he’s open minded and uncritical so long as he’s not given reason to not be.

But it’s not just that, another trait I find extremely refreshing that I don’t think any other captain possesses paired with that self awareness that I don’t think even Sisko (the most paternal of captains aside from him) possesses. He has this sort of, aura of nurturing others that transcends familiar labels like father or older brother or teacher.

He doesn’t just deliver the moral of the episode verbally or tell his subordinates what he thinks they should do, he lives and leads by example. He nudges his crew to reach their own conclusions, not his conclusions, and he’s not afraid to tell people when he’s proud or impressed. He makes people around him want to be better because he’s a good guy, not out of exclusively respect or intimidation, he’s inspiring. He’s a captain with the soul of a teacher, no wonder he ends up instructing cadets once he’s promoted to Fleet Captain.

Which leads me to the third thing, he’s got an enthusiasm for his job and for life that is hard earned and proves resilient even after he comes to terms with a future of extreme disability that he will have to learn to adapt to.The final step that he’s already started to inch toward recognizing it not as a death, but a another, more difficult and unprecedented chapter in his life.

He is selfless and principled where other people may have fled. “You’re a Starfleet Captain, you believe in service, sacrifice, compassion, and love.” “I give my life for you you give your life for me, nobody gets left behind.” He even goes so far as to almost refuse to believe there’s another way. Memorizing the names of the kids he saves. He’s almost overly self sacrificing which is genuinely probably one of my favorite character flaws because I relate to it and produces excellent angst (and also whump low key but I’m not gonna get into that *cough cough*).

These are the biggest reasons why I love this guy and I can’t wait to see how Strange New Worlds continues to evolve him and his dynamics with other characters. It could be boiled down to the word humility but there’s so many facets to it that I couldn’t just say only that. Part of me also wants them to pull out the “evil double/possessed by malevolent space entity” stock episode and see his nature inverted and see him be scary kinda like that one Short Treks but worse, I’d eat that up.

#thank you for the ask #I have Pike brainrot always #star trek #star trek discovery #star trek strange new worlds #discovery #strange new worlds #Captain pike #Christopher Pike #Chris Pike #meta #Star Trek meta #character meta #answering asks #lar trek #ichayalovescaptainpike

[artist-issues]

I get what your trying to say with changing tastes, and I agree with you. It just sometimes feels hard for me because while I'm trying my hand at enjoying some tragic things, in the past its because fandoms pressured me into doing so or else I got labeled or got some passive aggressive comments which basically boiled down to "its okay, but not really. and you should kinda feel bad"

now I'm not blaming you for that nor I am I saying everyone who's trying to help me is a bully but what want me to try was a friend I met

for example, I had hated RWBY's story as much as I loved the characters, and certain concepts and ships I wanted but dropped it due to V3 and onward with Pyrrha Nikos being tragic and put a bitter taste in my mouth for tragic things onward, my friend although fine with it, made sure I was aware my reasons were subjective which I agreed, but he didn't demonize subjective feelings and in fact related to me with a similar scenario in his personal life and how he'd learned to deal with it and tried to help me understand.

He gave me judgement whatsoever and gave me support with what I did like as much as he didn't like it. So while I no longer like RWBY, I get the point of those stories and try my luck elsewhere. But it was when someone treated me like a person and didn't wag the finger at me was what allowed me to give these sorts of things another chance.

But my experience with fandoms, at least The RWBY fandom, is that there's very little of that and mostly a superiority contest. And I don't understand why its so hard for certain people on the internet be the same as my friend.

Sorry to rant, and you don't need to answer, I just want to give my opinion on this

I'm going to answer because I appreciate your thoughts! I think the problem you're pointing out is valid: even if someone has something constructive to say, they don't always say it in a constructive way, or out of selfless motives.

Modern fandoms (which is the same thing as "modern audiences") are, in large majority, the kind of people who are watching something to be entertained, not watching it to be edified.

When you stop thinking of a story as "just entertainment" and start thinking of it as "a lesson someone is trying to teach me," then things take a different turn. Audiences can suddenly try to change their tastes based on that, like I said. They say to themselves "this is a lesson someone's trying to teach me; I might not be used to or comfortable with how they're saying it, but the lesson might be worth it, so I'll GET used to how they're saying it."

OR, audiences can stop finding their "sense of self" in a story, and therefore get wayyy less offended when someone doesn't like the same thing they like, or worse, when someone claims to like it more than they do! 😱

I think you're right about that. The point I'm making is, modern fandom doesn't even really like the stories they claim to like--they just like themselves, and the things that make them feel entertained, distracted, uplifted, knowledgeable, or cool. That's why you get fanfiction where authors write their "favorite" character completely out-of-character from the original material--because they never really liked that character for what it was, they just liked the tiny pieces of themselves that they could associate with that character, and re-wrote that character to only be those things.

That's why "comfort characters" are a thing. That's why "ship wars" are a thing. It's all self-focused. And there's a place for some of that. It's okay to go to a movie because you know it'll make you feel hopeful or happy. But you'll get even more benefit out of analyzing those feelings and why the movie makes you feel that way. Is it because you were beginning to think about the world in a dark, wrong way and the movie gently corrected you with its message? (Like Mary Poppins Returns does for me!)

Or do you simply feel hopeful because...maybe a character in the movie does something wrong, but the movie rewards them for it instead of punishing them, and you want to be able to relate to that? Or are you just distracted? After all, Rome invented panem et circus for entertain the people...so they could mistreat the people while they were "distracted."

Anyway. I wanted to keep it brief but I'm not that disciplined in my own style of communication yet! 😅 I think your friend did you a good turn! I've only seen a bit of RWBY, but if it helped you to think more clearly about a part of life that you maybe weren't thinking clearly about before, awesome--it did what stories are meant to do.

P.S. People like me can fall into the same trap that I just accused "fandom" people of doing. We can feel so good about ourselves for having the "correct" analysis or view of a story that we mistreat other people. Which basically hamstrings our goal of "changing people's minds about stories." Because we accidentally let "make people think we're smart and right" become the goal. So this is a good reminder for me, too!

#Thanks for the thoughtful response #asked #answered #state of the fandom

[waywardstraysau]

Hunter hadn’t slept well that night, or rather, he hadn’t slept at all. Granted, he hadn’t planned to do so in the first place. When he retired to his new quarters the night before, he had intended to spend the night doing research, finding out what the school knew about going to other worlds, what their limits were, and building on that knowledge. He had to get back home, it wasn’t a question of if or when, he had to do it now! Emperor Belos, his uncle, was waiting for him, he couldn’t waste precious time sleeping. He had allowed himself to rest back at the Noceda household after his many searches of the abandoned shack proved fruitless. There was nothing overtly special about the decrepit thing, the portal just opened up in its doorway for some indiscernible reason, like it was some fixed point between the two realms. He might have been able to find an answer if he had a proper team of investigators to work with, but no, instead, he was stuck with a pair of criminals, a terrified shapeshifter and a… what was Mrs. Noceda’s occupation again? A “veterinarian” was it? None of them would be of any help in finding out how to get home, but now… He had resources, information, others with firsthand experience, it was more than he could have possibly hoped for! Getting back to the Boiling Isles should be easy now! He just had to sit down, get to work, and focus. Or rather… he tried to.

He was in the human realm, and it… it was… it was everything the rumors said it was. Trees with leaves as green as emeralds, nights so quiet you could hear the bugs singing outside your window, he had yet to see if the claims about non-boiling rain was true or not though. At this point he wouldn’t be surprised, especially after he had seen the size of the “United States” as this place was apparently called. He never thought a single landmass could be so large, it was beyond his ability to fully comprehend, despite the fact he had seen it with his own two eyes! His “dorm room” as the Teodora girl called it was… uncomfortable. The walls were covered in a dull yellow wallpaper, nothing like the stonework of his quarters in the castle. His bed, which he found far too big for a single person, had been against the far left corner of the room, but there was no way he could sleep like that, and ended up rotating the bed so only the headboard against the wall instead. It was a small change, but it made it closer to what was truly his. As for his research… he didn’t trust the others to not spy on him if he simply tried to walk out and retrieve a book from the library. Those two pesky criminals would probably follow him if they realized he had left and would insist on bothering him. They may have had the same end goal of going home, but their lackadaisical attitudes didn’t inspire confidence that they would actually be serious about putting in the hard work the task required. Their lack of discipline would turn into a distraction for him and end up slowing him down, or worse, make him miss something vitally important. If not them, then the squabbling from Blinky and his brother was also a possibility, and who knew what the other students were like? Maria had seemed reasonable enough, he’d probably be able to check out as many books as the library allowed despite it only being his first night there. So long as he minded his manners and promised to return them on time. He hoped… He had intended to reread a few chapters of Ruler’s Reach until he was certain nobody was around to bother him once he actually headed to the library. He quietly thanked the Titan he had the book in his bag when he ended up in this damned realm. Skara had insisted he give it a try and he found himself rereading it regularly. It was one of many small reasons he was grateful for having ever met the Emerald Entrails, five percent at most; the team itself made up the other ninety-five percent. The things they introduced him to seemingly shined like sunlight through a chandelier at just the right angle and he found himself hooked. The book he had become so enamored with was just a novel, not one of the heavy, scholarly tomes that the castle had in abundance. Those had made up the majority of the reading material he had consumed in his young life. His private tutors were the ones who provided alternative options, just to ensure his reading comprehension was beyond reproach. He was Emperor Belos’s nephew after all, he couldn’t have any shortcomings and committing some faux pas due to poor reading skills would be such an utter embarrassment. Ruler’s Reach was different though. While he loved reading and learning about sigil magic (and secretly wild magic), this was one of the exceedingly rare books he read just for the fun of it. He didn’t have to think about symbolism or what message the author was trying to send, he didn’t end up going down rabbit holes of new concepts and research begging for him to explore. He could just sit, read, and relax… …unless, however, his brain chose to absolutely betray him and refuse to be cooperative. Despite reading the same line over and over again, it wouldn’t process the words he was looking at and he became trapped in an endless loop. He hated it when this happened. His brain would refuse to take in information out of the blue, and he’d have to fight to memorize anything. He grit his teeth hard and strained for a moment before a sharp pain made him yelp and broke his concentration. Flapjack fluttered down from the top of the young witch’s head, having pecked his head and chirped when they made eye contact. He advocated for him to stop trying to read, the little bird always did when his partner’s brain refused to work anymore and claimed he needed to rest. Hunter didn’t know how the bird knew when it happened or why he insisted on him stopping but something about the way he said it would at least convince the witch to take a break. Tonight however, Flapjack’s tone was much more firm, even tugging on the loose lock of hair that he could seemingly never tame. He was forced to reluctantly concede, he just couldn’t say no to the palisman. No… his palisman. He had a palisman. A thing of wild magic. The notion had left him torn when it first occurred to him, something he had been told all his life was dangerous, only to become a strange, small comfort in his life. A secret, something that was his and his alone, Flapjack had nothing to do with the Emperor’s Coven, his position as the Golden Guard, the Titan’s will, or his uncle. Flapjack came with no expectations, he had only wanted to be there for Hunter and he had proven it multiple times over. Finding him at the castle, refusing to leave, following him to the Knee, flying between him and the youngest Blight’s attack. A palisman he had kidnapped and planned to hand over to his uncle had protected him… Hunter scooped him up out of the air and pressed his forehead against the bird’s. “Okay buddy… I’ll get some sleep.” Rest might have been a more accurate word for what he ended up doing, because despite the very long, very active day, his brain betrayed him again and refused to let him sleep. He usually took advantage of the rare bout of insomnia, he would spend the night reading or preparing for whatever mission he might have the next day. Now he couldn’t do either and he hated it. Hours slipped through his fingers like sand, it simultaneously felt horribly slow, but when he opened his eyes to check the time, it suddenly felt like hours had disappeared in the blink of an eye. The strange whiplash just made him bury his face into the pillows, desperate for what scraps of sleep he could get. He finally gave up when he noticed the sky outside had started to lighten, announcing the night’s quiet end. Checking the clock again, its face glowed at 5:28 AM. Well it wasn’t the earliest he had ever been up at, but with so much time left before “classes” started, and his brain’s refusal to read, he felt hot frustration bubbling inside his core. When he finally couldn’t take it anymore, he violently threw the covers off himself and stormed to the window. If he had to stay in this house, in this room, for a moment longer, he wasn’t sure what he might do. He threw the window open and with nothing more than the athletic skills he had gained from years of physical training, he managed to leap forward, twist mid-air, grab the overhang above and haul himself up onto it. It wasn’t exactly easy from that angle, and he had to limit how much speed he used, lest he risk missing entirely. He had no doubt Flapjack would be able to catch him in time, but he wanted to be able to do it on his own. The shingles of the roof were rough and came close to leaving abrasions, but he hardly noticed. He had endured far worse in his basic training, at worse they would just be an irritant later. He found himself on a slanted roof, it threw off his balance a little but he barely had to adjust to traverse it. He remembered seeing how steep it was at the front of the building, it seemed that didn’t hold true for the back. He counted himself lucky, if he had ended up on the front half, one small misstep would have sent him sliding downwards almost immediately with no real guarantee of being able to catch himself.

He took a quick glance around, found a shadowy corner and sat down, using his knees supporting his arms. He could feel his exposed skin rise in bumps from the chill in the air, they were called goosebumps here according to Mrs Camilla, but he forced them from his mind. He felt the need to scratch at his them from how… thin the air felt. Yes, thin, that was a good word to describe it. The air was thin in the human realm, it wasn’t thick, warm and muggy like it was back home. The Boiling Sea ensured that the air on the island was constantly thick and a little sticky, even on the Knee the air was damp, which just made it even more dangerous, especially to unprepared visitors who often succumbed to hypothermia, When they first arrived here, he constantly found the air just too different to ever be fully comfortable. The air didn’t feel nearly as dense, and it was… cool, it just didn’t fill his lungs the same way, the right way. During the day it was tolerable so long as he didn’t linger on it, but it made the nights even more strange and unfamiliar. It was all wrong, and that was just at the Noceda household, this place was somehow even worse! He hadn’t thought it was possible but now the cool sensation didn’t seem to ever leave his lungs, even during the day. Still, between being stuck inside a moment longer and being out at a time where the air was no doubt at its coldest, he would have to choose the latter option for the time being. Flapjack landed on top of his arm, chirping concern at him and Hunter couldn’t help but smile at his little companion. At least he had one thing that was still the same. “Don’t worry buddy, I’ll get us home.” He went to pet the palisman, but stopped when he heard something. Music. At least, he thought it was music, it was a sound unlike any he had ever heard before. It almost reminded him of a lute and other similar string instruments, but nothing quite like this. And at this hour? From the way he others spoke at dinner the night before, he fully expected to be the only one up for some time yet! He got up from his little hiding spot and followed the strange sound, it led him to the other side of the roof, in the direction of the rising sun. Due to his many years of military training, he found himself ducking behind one of the chimneys before peeking out. There was someone sitting on the edge of the roofing, facing the sunrise and the music was indeed coming from them. He squinted, trying to focus on their appearance despite the sun’s attempts to blind him, while Flapjack hopped onto his head. He chirped, telling Hunter to approach, which earned a sharp shush from the blonde boy, just as the song the stranger was playing came to an end. “I know you’re there so you can come out.” Hunter squeaked! He was compromised! He hesitated and reminded himself of where he was before coming out of hiding. The person then turned away from the blinding light, and given Hunter’s new angle, he could make them out. It was a young man, roughly his own age, he had a strong and sturdy build, with dark, fluffy curls for hair, and equally dark eyes. He was wearing a pink letterman jacket with a white collar and cuffs, the shirt he wore was black with a single, large yellow star on it, a pair of those, what were they called again, jeans, and soft red sandals. In his lap was a strange little instrument, it was incredibly small, and his earlier assessment had been right, it did vaguely resemble a lute. A very small one, with a longer neck, made from yellow wood, and the smaller, strangely shaped body was covered in stickers. Hunter… wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking at. This stranger seemed nice enough, he had spoken very softly when he urged him to come out of his hiding place, and wasn’t showing any signs of hostility… but he found he couldn’t move. The worst part was he had no idea why. “Sorry if my playing disturbed you,” the stranger said with a warm smile, “There’s rarely even anyone else up here at this hour.” “Uh… no, you didn’t,” he answered stiffly, “I uh… I just… needed to get out of the building.” “Couldn’t sleep huh?” “How did you-” “It happens more often than you’d think around here, though people don’t normally go to the roof this early in the morning. Hurts their eyes too much,” he pointed with a thumb towards the sun, “You’re one of the new students right?” “That obvious?” “Well there’s only so many of us here, you get to a point you recognize everyone’s face except for new arrivals. Plus, not to be rude but uh…” He pointed at his own ears. “Nobody else here has those.” Oh… right. Flapjack, sensing the tension building in his owner, fluttered away from Hunter and, despite the witch’s protest, landed on the stranger's knee. “Aw, hi little guy,” he gently rubbed the bird’s cheek with a finger, “Is he yours?” “Y-Yes, he is,” he answered without meaning to. “He’s a friendly one, what’s his name?” “Um… F-Flapjack.” “Hehe, that’s cute!” He didn’t know how it counted as “cute” but he didn’t particularly feel like having it elaborated on. “Why’d you name him that?” “I uh… I didn’t name him, he came with it.” “He did?” “Yeah… a-apparently he belonged to someone else before me.” The stranger frowned softly before looking at Flapjack’s blinded eye and stroked his head. The little bird chirped, happily declaring he liked this new human, which made Hunter smirk. “You like everyone, buddy.” “Huh?” the stranger looked at him in confusion. “Oh uh, h-him, I-I was talking to him…” he gestured to Flapjack. “...wait, you can talk to animals?” “What? No! I… j-just to him.” “...you can talk to your pet?” “He’s not a pet. He’s a palisman.” “What’s that?” “...he’s…magic and carved from the wood of a palistrum tree.” The stranger’s eyes widened. “Really? Whoa… that’s totally different from the kind of magic I know.” “Wait… you know magic?” Did all humans seemingly have magic? He was excited to learn about it but at the same time, a small, bitter part of himself was also jealous. He was a witch, he was supposed to have magic, especially when he was Belos’s nephew, how did these humans all seemingly have it instead? “Well… magic might not be the most accurate word for it,” the stranger explained, “It’s what my family and others like us tend to call it, but it seems to be more… I’m not sure what the right word for it is. It’s… limited, compared to what some of the others here can do, and even then, there are some powers only certain kinds of us can do.” “Like the coven system!” Hunter’s exclamation echoed ever so softly on the early morning air, and he had taken an excited step forward. “...the what system?” “The coven system! It’s what my world has, to unify our magic and to bring order from chaos!” The stranger blinked at him in painfully blunt confusion. “...you have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” “No, not really, sorry,” he admitted as he rubbed the back of his head, “But you can tell me later if you want.” He found himself smiling at the opportunity. He hadn’t had the chance to talk to anyone about the coven system, or Belos, or magic or anything of importance without that annoying human girl and little demon rat around to interrupt. He hadn’t felt this level of excitement bubble up in him since before arriving in the human realm and he let a small bit of it flow out as he exclaimed, “Yes! Definitely! Absolutely!” “Hehehe,” the stranger patted the spot beside him, “Care to join me?” “Uh… alright…! Yeah, sure!” He sat down beside him, though he didn’t dangle his legs over the edge like the other boy was. He picked his instrument back up and began to play again, the melody was simpler this time, but felt oddly appropriate for some reason. He smiled before asking a very simple, but obvious question that Hunter hadn’t even considered. “By the way, what’s your name?” He paused, and felt a jolt of embarrassment. He had spent this time talking without once properly introducing himself. How had he forgotten to do something so simple? “Uh… Hunter… It's Hunter.” “Well, it’s nice to meet you Hunter. My name’s Steven, Steven Universe.” He blinked in surprise, and he remembered the coven scout with a very similar name, Steve. He liked him, he was very enthusiastic about his job, and always did his assignments eagerly, it was why he worked directly for the last two coven heads, first Lilith and then under him. If this new companion hadn’t repeated his name, he might have misheard and thought the two of them had the same name. “Um… sorry to ask, but what is that thing you’re playing?” “Oh this? This is a ukulele. You don’t have them where you’re from?” “No… I mean, we have instruments but they’re not like that.” “Eh, different world, different instruments and different kinds of music. Nothing wrong with that.” “So… you’re a bard?” Steven looked at him with a bit of puzzlement on his face. “Uh… technically? Though in this world, we’re just called musicians.” “Do you use that to channel your magic?” “What? No no, I just play it for fun. My magic’s a bit more complicated than that.” “Oh.”

“I guess your magic works differently though?”

“I… guess you could say that.” He was still getting used to the idea of magic working differently from how it did back home, not defined by the coven system or wild magic. He had had two weeks to let it be absorbed and processed… but maybe that hadn’t worked as well as he’d thought. “Hey… you want some breakfast? Or some coffee” Steven asked from seemingly nowhere, “Breakfast isn’t gonna be served for a while, but I could make us something now if ya want.”

“Wait, is that allowed?”

“Yeah it’s fine, just uh… stay close. The kitchen can be a bit chaotic.”

That made sense, Hunter had been in the castle’s kitchen plenty of times in his life and it was always buzzing with activity, the school was probably no different. He nodded at Steven, who smiled as he stood up.

“C’mon, we should probably hurry then.”

Hunter’s heart dropped into his stomach when the other boy stepped right off the roof.

“Steven!”

Flapjack turned into a staff in less than a second and was in his owner’s hand as the Golden Gjuard prepared to jump, ready to propel himself downwards to catch the seemingly suicidal boy…

Except, Steven didn’t fall.

Instead, he was slowly descending, his stomach now at the same level as the roof. A look of confusion on his face before it quickly morphed into horrified realization.

“Oh geez! I’m so sorry! I totally spaced! I forgot to warn you about this!” “How-How are you doing that?!” “This is… uh… one of my powers. I have the ability to float, so whenever I’m up here I just use it to get back down, and uh… I got so used to it I forgot to warn you about it? Sorry!” “I… I’ve never seen anything like this before…” “Yeah, that’s what most people say about this one… anyway, my room’s down here, c’mon.” He held his hand out to Hunter, who paused. “I uh… I can fly on my own actually…” He mounted his staff and kicked off from the roof, making Steven’s eyes widen. “Whoa…! That’s amazing! You didn’t say Flapjack could do… whatever that is!” “He turned into a magic staff, all palismen can.” “Whoa… you’ll have to tell me more about it later!” He let out a small laugh as he grabbed onto the roof with one hand, his ukulele in the other, he lowered himself a little faster and then swung down and out of sight. Hunter lowered himself as well, before spotting an open window, making it clear where Steven had gone. He flew inside and looked around. The room was filled to the brim with even more musical instruments. They were all vaguely similar to ones back on the Boiling Isles, almost like they could be distant relatives. Some, similar to the ukulele Steven had been playing, hung from the walls, others like a strange drum set were far too big and had to be set up on the far side of the room. Posters of musicians hung from the walls, as well as images from the “movies” and “anime” he had caught glances of back at the Noceda home. There were also photographs and a few books scattered around in odd places, it seemed strangely disorganized in a way Hunter couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Sorry about the mess,” he apologized as he placed his ukulele on the wall, “I got some of my stuff from home a few days ago and haven’t found a place to put it all yet.” “I see…” Hunter couldn’t really complain his own quarters back at the castle had been something of a cluttered mess, though his excuse was he studied so much that the mess sort of just accumulated over time. It never got too out of control, but it was certainly nothing to be proud of either. Steven smiled and gestured for the young witch to follow him. He led him out of the dorm room and through the halls, somehow in the early morning light the place seemed more like a maze than a school. The musically inclined teenager was humming to himself as they walked, from the structure and repeating pattern of notes, it was an actual, proper song, not one he was making up as he went. He even let a few words slip out, ever so softly that Hunter couldn’t be sure what he was saying. They went down the stairs in the main foyer, and the song seemed to come to an end as they entered the dining room, and they could hear strange sounds that got louder as they approached the kitchen. As they got closer, Hunter caught sight of the signs hanging around the doorway. He had noticed them the night before at dinner but hadn’t gotten close enough to actually read them. They… were concerning. Much like the bottom button in the elevator, they all screamed warnings to those intending to enter. Things like “Warzone!!!”, “Enter at your own risk!!”, “Look out for flying utensils!” were taped to the doorway. “...uh… why are those there?” he questioned cautiously. “Well… do you have the phrase “too many cooks in the kitchen spoils the broth” in your world?” Steven asked in a strangely flat and drained way, a total departure from how he had been a moment before. “No, but we have something similar with potion making.” “Well… when you throw in deep passion for a particular type of cooking, some from completely different parts of the world and cultures, various levels of sleep deprivation, and a lot of combat training, things can get a bit-” He was interrupted by a loud crash from the kitchen, something metal bounced and a large bowl rolled out of the doorway before falling over in front of them. “...chaotic.” As if completely unaffected by what he had just said, Steven calmly put his hands in his pockets and walked into the kitchen. Hunter once again followed and was stunned by the sight waiting for them. Well over half a dozen people were in the kitchen, many of them were yelling, some of them working away to prepare food… and far too many of them were actively throwing things at everyone else. None of what was being thrown was the actual food, it was everything else that was flying through the air. How nobody had been seemingly hit yet was a miracle, or at least they were acting like they hadn’t been hurt. Everything you could think of was being thrown, plastic bowls, wooden spoons, cookie cutters, an empty ice cube tray, cookbooks, chip clips, egg beaters, and far too many knives. Wait, knives?! Sure enough, amongst the thrown items were several knives, ranging from mostly harmless butter knives to very dangerous butcher knives. And Steven was just calmly strolling in like nothing was happening at all! “Wait, don’t! It’s not safe!” Either Hunter’s warning somehow went unheard or the other boy didn’t care, he continued to casually walk into the fight. The young witch immediately went to follow, being forced to stop when a large device, a microwave he thought it was called, landed with a hard crash in front of him. He then ducked and rolled to avoid a whirling blender that had come a little too close for comfort. He looked back into the chaos, scanning the situation, and found Steven, right in the middle… And easily avoiding every object that was thrown in his direction. He didn’t even need to break his stride, he merely tilted his head to the side, hopped when something would have hit him in the leg, and leaned backwards when a cutting board would have smacked him in the face, avoiding it all together. He was… so horrifying casual about it, like this was something he did all the time… And Hunter realized he probably did, if this really was part of his morning routine. He somehow made his way to a counter and turned on a pair of coffee makers, odd but the witch didn’t have the time to question it, dodging a thrown oven rack tends to do that. By the time he caught up, Steven had already poured a cup of the dark brew, finished mixing in some milk, and was adding something on top… what was it called again? Whipped cream? “Here ya go,” he passed Hunter the mug, who had to resist making a face. Who put whipped cream on coffee anyway? It seemed ridiculous, but he didn’t want to be rude, he needed all the help he could get to go back home… so, with a steeled nerve, he thanked the other boy and took a large sip of the concoction. His eyes shot open at the delightfully sweet taste, he normally just chugged the bitter brew, it allowed him to work more. The stronger the better, even if it impacted the taste, but this… this had that same strong kick but it tasted so much better that he actually wanted to slow to a near stop and savor it. He could hear chuckling and then he realized Steven was laughing. “I had a feeling you would like cappuccinos, but from the looks of it, you’ve never even had one before.” “...I thought this was coffee…” “Hunter, cappuccinos are a type of coffee.” His cheeks turned red in embarrassment. “...oh.” Steven smiled and turned to the second coffee make, which had a variety of stickers on it. Ones in the shape of letters were put on the front, spelling out “Steven’s Coffee,” which was proven when the brunette pulled it towards himself… And he drank straight from the pot. Hunter couldn’t stop staring at the strange sight. He needed his daily fix of caffeine too but this was… extreme… and wouldn’t it burn his mouth? Steven didn’t act like he was in any pain and moved to the fridge, ducking as an empty utensils drawer flew over his head, twirling as he did so. He had started humming again, and it took Hunter a moment to realize… he was singing… and dancing… in the middle of a violent fight like it was nothing. He pulled some ingredients out of the fridge, some from the pantry, inexplicably avoiding thrown objects the whole way. Then… he started cooking. The dark haired boy worked with unbelievable ease and speed, mixing batter, cooking bacon and eggs on the stove, preparing berries, and sipping from the coffee pot, he was seemingly completely unbothered by the fight. Hunter meanwhile actively avoided whatever object was thrown in his direction, relying on Flapjack’s magic to magically move out of the way as fast as possible. He didn’t see Steven finish cooking, or when he started putting the food on a pair of plates. He put them on a tray and turned to the witch. “Breakfast is ready!”

Hunter looked up from where a waffle iron had crashed into a cabinet and was met with a bright smile from the musically inclined teenager. He also saw the split second glint of metal as a wickedly sharp knife that had become airborne, headed right for said musician. “Steven!” It was already so close, and thrown with such force, he couldn’t teleport there in time! He began to remember the basics of first aid when- FWING! A shield surrounded by glittering light materialized against Steven’s arm, and around the blade of the knife, stopping it in its tracks. He hadn’t even looked, just raised his arm, there had been a small, very quick flash of light, and suddenly it had appeared. The shield was a warm shade of pink, with a vine-like spiral leading to the center, where a strange flower shape surrounded a reddish-pink gemstone, and it had a blue-silver edge… though the oddest thing about the damned thing was that it was transparent, almost like glass or a sunbeam peeking out from behind the clouds.

Was… was this the magic Steven had told him about? “Whoa…” If it was, it was far more beautiful than he had imagined! Steven himself, just looked mildly annoyed. He moved his arm and the shield followed, he hovered it over the counter and in that same flash of glittering light, the shield vanished. After safely depositing the knife, he looked back to Hunter, the annoyance still hadn’t left his face and any questions the young witch might have had were frozen in their place at the sight. “We should get out of here before that happens again.” The blonde wisely followed, and the battle continued behind them as they left. When they reached the nearest table, Steven took a long, deep breath through his nose, held it, and then exhaled through his mouth before placing their breakfast down. Hunter stared in confusion but he wasn’t going to question it, maybe it had to do with his magic. Flapjack returned to his usual form as they sat down and Hunter’s brow raised at the sight of some of the food, an act that didn’t go unnoticed. “Don’t have food like this where you come from?” “Uh… not… really?” “Don’t worry, it’s all good. It’s just some eggs, sausage, some berries for your little bird buddy, oh, and a few pancakes-” “Pancakes?!”

Hunter nearly knocked over his coffee as he exclaimed. “...yeah? Is something wrong? Oh, wait, are you allergic or something!? Oh man, I’m so sorry, I should have ask-” “What?! No no, it’s not that! I… uh… the word came up in some… research I did back home… I… didn’t know that they were a type of food.” This made Steven pause before looking to Flapjack, who was happily pecking away at a blueberry. The little red ball of feathers just chirped, before looking to his owner, and chirped a few more times before seeming to convince Hunter to speak up. “So… that shield… is that… was it… magic?” “...kinda, I guess? It used to be my mom’s, I inherited it from her, but I had to learn how to use it properly on my own. Couldn’t exactly summon it on command, it was like… trying to figure out a part of me I didn’t know I had until I had it?” “Well, why didn’t your mother teach you?” There was a pause. It was brief, not even a split second long, but it was there, and Hunter noticed it. “My uh… my mom… isn’t around anymore.”

There was another pause, a heavier, longer one, and this time, Hunter felt something, something he didn’t have a name for. Steven clutched his stomach in a strange way with one hand, like he was in distress.

“...oh…” “Yeah… eheh, but it was before I could have ever known her, so I don’t have any memories of her or anything, so it’s not a big deal, not for me anyway… well… the people who loved her had… feelings about it, related to her and me but uh… I never knew her myself…” Once again, there was a long pause. It lasted almost ten seconds before Hunter spoke. “I never knew my mom either.” Now it was Steven’s turn to feel something he didn’t have a name for. He looked to Hunter, who was fiddling with his gloved fingers, his breakfast forgotten. “Or my dad… or grandparents… or if I had siblings… they were all destroyed before I was old enough to remember. The only person I have left is my uncle, he took me in and I’ve been with him since… but… now I’m here… and he isn’t. And I… I need to go back. We’re all the other has left.” Hunter didn’t know why he was opening up like this, to a stranger he had met only minutes ago at that, but once Steven had mentioned not knowing his mother, something just… changed. Like a pair of massive double doors had been slowly opened, and what they contained couldn’t be stopped. No, not stopped, but he didn’t have to go into detail about it all either, he didn’t have to mention the wild magic, the fact his uncle was the emperor, that he was the Golden Guard, that… that could come up later. He glanced at his new companion, and to his surprise Steven had placed a hand to his mouth, eyes widening and… were those… tears? They were pink, was that normal for humans?! Any further thoughts were interrupted when a very weary group of students stumbled into the dining room, all of them bearing various scrapes, scratches and abrasions. Hunter recognized Danny and Randy among the group, and even a few of the fighters from the sparring ring the night before. The one who lost to Jack, the boy with the yellow jacket and weird hair, looked like he had gotten the worst of it, choosing to collapse face first into the floor with a pained groan and no trace of dignity to be found. The others managed to just sink to the floor and only a few actually managed to make it to a seat. “Ho boy…” Steven said with a quiver in his voice, before wiping away his own tears, “Looks like they really went hard at it this time.”

Hunter, who was a second away from having Flapjack transform again, looked at him in confusion. He had been ready to spring into action and fight if whatever had left them all in such a state was still in pursuit.

“What do you mean? Weren’t they attacked?”

“Psh, nah, those guys just fit in some extra combat training first thing in the morning if they can.”

He looked at the one collapsed on the floor.

“Though it looks like they really pushed themselves today.”

“Indeed they did.”

Stickler was entering the room, apparently following the group. He brushed some dust from his jacket, straightened it, and looked towards the duo.

“Good morning Hunter, Mr. Universe,” he nodded.

“Good morning Mr. Strickler,” Steven nodded before taking a bite of his pancakes, “Showed no mercy again huh?”

“Yes, well, they asked for it.”

“Did they literally? Or did someone just get cocky and you decided to knock them down a peg?” the young man smirked, and Hunter had a feeling that both possibilities had been the correct answer multiple times in the past.

“The former.”

Steven looked to the one collapsed on the floor again, implying that he was the one the musician suspected of making the request. Hunter however just raised a brow, the students’ wounds were all surface level, the kind that would hurt and sting, but nothing close to what he had after his usual training sessions. Not a magically induced burn, laceration, or broken bone in sight.

Part of him wondered if it was a sign that Strickler, whoever or whatever he was, wasn’t as strong as Hunter’s trainers, or that humans were a lot more sturdy and hardy than witches. That second one seems unlikely, but then he remembered some of them weren’t actually human, they just looked like they were. That probably explained it, and he wondered if it would be a good idea to study how they fought, to improve his own ability.

“Can I at least finish my breakfast before helping?” Steven’s request surprised Hunter. Help? How could he help? Did he know basic first aid or something…?

“There’ll be no need for that, they can get patched up by Barbara,” Strickler said before frowning softly, “And, what did the doctor say about your unhealthy need to help with every little thing?”

He noticeably froze at the question, the same way coven scouts who failed in spectacular fashion would when Belos put the fear of the Titan in them. It set the witch on edge, fully expecting something bad to happen, something that would need to be dodged, outrun, he was ready for anything. To his surprise however, Steven simply took a very long, very slow inhale through his nose, and then out through the mouth.

“It’s not my responsibility to help everyone,” he recited, “That while it’s all nice and good to assist if I can, I don’t have to bend over backwards for everyone in my life and I’m allowed to say no or to back out of things if need be.”

“Very good,” Stirckler nodded before eyeballing the mostly filled coffee pot the young man was drinking from, “Although you really shouldn’t drink that much, it isn’t good for you.”

Steven paused for a beat, with an expression Hunter couldn’t quite identify. He then grabbed the pot and began to chug from it, drinking at an odd angle that allowed him to keep a very hard eye contact with the older man. He didn’t even pause to breathe, and Hunter recoiled slightly, just imagining the burning.

“...you and your strange acts of disgruntled rebellion,” Strickler groaned, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in a repeating motion, completely unconcerned.

“S’funny when he does it,” the one collapsed on the floor said in a slurring, punch drunk voice.

“Alright you lot,” Strickler said, regaining everyone’s focus, “Barbara is waiting, get yourselves to her office. Now.”

There were groans as the students forced themselves to their feet, dragging themselves out of the room.

“Seriously, I can help,” Steven offered again.

“No, a brief lesson in endurance will be good for them,” Stickler sighed, “As for you two… enjoy your breakfast and please stay out of trouble.”

“Sir, if anyone will be finding trouble, it will be the two criminals I came here with,” Hunter stated, almost insulted at the idea he would do something like that…

Then again he did accidentally cause that goblin rampage yesterday. Maybe he better take a few precautions to avoid future accidents. As if reading his mind, Strickler merely shook his head.

“We shall see…”

#wayward strays #Wayward Strays AU #toh hunter #steven universe #fanfic