https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=x2aB3ZE1InE&pp=ygUbbXkgZ29vZGJ5ZSBlcGljIHRoZSBtdXNpY2Fs
This is how I hope reader and Alastor's divorce would be like. Give me a grand musical number of reader having ENOUGH and leaving his sorry ass please please please
This way, you won't disappoint me.
This way, you won't waste my time.
This way, I'll close the door.
Consider this as my goodbye.
That's just like you.
Why should I be surprised?
Selfish and prideful and vain.
I'll remind you.
I saw you as a friend.
But now we're done.
This way, you get what you wanted.
This way, you can save your time.
This way, you close the door.
And have your damn goodbye.
You're not looking for a partner!
You're not looking for a friend!
I mistook you for a savior!
What a waste of effort spent!
At least I know what I'm fighting for,
While you're fighting to be loved.
Since you claim you're so much better,
Why's your life spent all alone?
You're alone.
One day, you'll hear what I'm saying.
One day, you might understand.
One day, but not today
For after all, you're
Just a man.
This day, you sever your own head!
This day, you cut the line!
This day, you lost it all!
Consider this as my goodbye!
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now you’ve got me thinking about zhao and how yucky disgusting he is and we all love angst here… perhaps “did i do good?” with zhao and zuko (i refuse to say the ship name because 🤢) or maybe instead/in addition to, “you’re a weapon and weapons don’t weep”
For this prompt game! (And also this one!)
Content Warning: Zhao being a creep, implied underage, blood, implied threat of sexual coercion (no one gets hurt, it's just Zhao's POV, so.)
“Come now, Prince Zuko, it’s not like you to be so reticent.”
“Fuck you, you stupid worthless—”
“There it is,” Zhao sighs, enjoying the fury in the little demon’s voice, the nice contrast it makes to the impotent way he keeps twisting against the metal cuffs holding his hands behind his back and anchored to the wall.
“I knew you had an opinion somewhere in you, you always do,” Zhao smirks, delighted when the little brat actually hisses at him. “You researched is so extensively, after all,” he says, making his tone sympathetic even as he feels a rush of satisfaction at the way those gold eyes track him around the room, exactly as it should be. Zhao is the one to watch, Zhao is the power in the room.
And now Prince Zuko will know it. Will acknowledge it. Agni, the way the boy had been so dismissive of Zhao’s suggestion to share information, dismissing of him—
“All that time wallowing in backwater ports and begging for scraps of rotten parchment,” Zhao muses, shaking his head, “And where did it get you?” he lets a curl of the amused pleasure he feels enter his voice for the way it makes the little brat spit and jerk against his restrains again. “Captured trying to break into an allied Earth Kingdom noble’s house, bound like the common criminal you apparently are, and chained up awaiting my authority.
“So tell me, Zuko,” he says, letting his voice go hard, “What do you think now? Did I do good? Up to your standards?” he hisses, shoving the boy back against the wall and thrilling at the startled grunt it gets him, at how easy it is, at the way he can just keep his hand against the brat’s chest and press. “Did I do it the way you would have, Prince?”
“Don’t touch me,” the brat snaps, jerking once, uselessly, chin up and somehow managing to look down his nose like he isn’t panting for breath under Zhao’s spread hand. “You’re a coward, is what you are,” he spits. Clearly the worst insult he can come up with, Zhao thinks, amused. “A lazy, worthless coward who’s done nothing to deserve—”
“Tsk tsk,” Zhao interrupts, fire thrilling at the indignation on the boy’s face at the interruption. “This conduct is quite unbecoming a prince, don’t you think? I would have thought your dear uncle would have educated you better than that,” he chides for the pleasure of watching the brat’s expression screw up in outrage. Always so expressive. It always makes Zhao want to see what other faces he can drag out of him. “Or at the very least your father.” Oh, that was a good one, and the way Zhao can feel the boy’s chest hitch— “You should know by now that a true leader delegates,” he says, greedily watching the brat’s face as he adds, delicate, “Though some lessons…”
“You—you—fuck you, don’t—you don’t dare talk about the Fire Lord that way,” the brat snarls, nearly spitting sparks as he struggles with renewed vigor, shoulders moving as he twists against the cuffs behind his back, straining back against Zhao’s hand with such lovely, useless fury. “My father—”
“Yes, what would your father say?” Zhao interrupts, sliding his hand up the brat’s chest, excitement pulsing in his fire at the way the boy cuts himself off. “When I return with information on not just the Avatar, but the weakness of the Northern Water Tribe?” The information on the Avatar being next to worthless, of course, which makes it all the more delicious how desperately the little demon chases after it.
“Do you think he’ll offer his thanks and admiration?” Zhao murmurs, letting his fingers gentle as they drift up the boy’s neck, feeling the rapid beat of his pule.
“Will he think I’m worthy?” Zhao runs his thumb over the lower ridge of the scar, fascinated to see it so close. Agni, the ridges and dips of it, the force that must have been used, the way the boy just knelt there and took it—
“Will he tell me I’ve earned great honor?” Zhao smirks, tone pitched low, enjoying the naked hate in the boy’s eyes, enjoying the impotence of it, the thrill of having something so wild and dangerous trapped, forced into submission by him.
“I’m willing to share, you know,” Zhao murmurs, leaning in, excitement twisting in his gut at the way he can hear the boy breathing fast and tight. “For a price, of course, you know how these things work” he adds, inhaling deep like he can smell the fear, closing his eyes to savor it. “I know your ship’s budget is small—” he traces the edge of the scar, fire itching to gather in his hand. “—but I’m sure we could come to some sort of arrange—”
Zhao cries out as pain suddenly explodes through his nose, reeling back and tripping over the chair he’d set up to in front of the prince in case he wanted to take his time, blinking in disorientation and realizing that the brat headbutted him.
“You little shit,” Zhao spits, taking in the blood trickling down the boy’s face as he glares back, the brat breathing hard and triumphant and clearly not understanding his current position. “You are going to regret that,” Zhao promises, wiping blood off his face. His nose fucking broken, and Zhao was willing to show mercy, but now—
“Prince,” Zuko snaps, enough growling command in the tone that Zhao pulls up short before he can catch himself, rage sparking in his chest at the satisfaction on Zuko’s face as he catches the motion. Zhao snarls back, hauling himself to his feet only to pull up short again at the sudden clank of metal on metal, one heavy cuff hitting the floor as fire blooms in the boy’s suddenly free hand.
“That’s Crown Prince little shit, to you,” Zuko snarls, Zhao scrambling the rest of the way to his feet and calling his own fire, knowing that fire to fire he far outclasses the brat.
Except the sneaking little demon has no honor, not even the pride and decency of the lowest of firebenders as the chain comes out swinging instead, the brat fighting more like a feral creature than anything human, let alone anything that claims to be royal, as he throws himself at Zhao with the single-minded intensity and disregard his own self of the truly insane and Zhao should have never sent his men from the room, should have known the little fuck would be more trouble than he was—
Zhao goes down, flat on his back, the kind of fall firebenders are trained never to take. And Zhao has plenty of training, and in any decent fight he’d have more than enough time to swing back to his feet even with the breath knocked out of him by the fall and the brat’s ridiculous kick—
But this isn’t a decent fight, it’s a common brawl. And the little demon slams into him with enough force to slam Zhao’s head back down against the metal decking.
“Don’t worry, Captain,” the little demon pants, crouched on Zhao’s chest and grinning like some savage, blood on his teeth and dripping down onto Zhao’s face. “I’ll make sure to tell everyone exactly how good you did,” he promises, his chain-wrapped fist swinging down the last thing Zhao sees.
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I actually really liked Solomon’s interaction in Ch 13 and I thought it was appropriate.
It makes sense that he wouldn’t fall apart the second he sees us wake up. For one thing, I don’t think he’s close enough to the brothers, especially in this timeline, especially after everything that just went down, to feel comfortable being that emotionally vulnerable in front of them.
For another thing, MC just woke up from a coma. They could likely be in a very delicate state. Solomon sees it as his job to look after them. He wouldn’t want to add to the chaos of the brothers bombarding them as soon as they regain consciousness.
But this doesn’t mean he doesn’t show his concern or grief.
In the previous chapter, we learn that Solomon suggested bringing us back to HoL to recover, as he believed this is where we would want to be. Despite this, he still asks where MC would like to go now that they’re awake. He doesn’t expect them to want to go with him. If MC chooses this option, he expresses surprise. But it’s what he wants. He doesn’t say, “Let’s go home,” or even, “Would you like to come back with me?” Maybe he feels like he has no right to do so. Maybe he fears rejection. But in his heart, he wants them home with him.
When they are back, only after making sure MC is okay and can walk (which being disabled I have some emotions about but that’s a whole other thing) he’s very honest with them. He discusses his fear of losing them and his guilt over the situation openly. From context clues like his trembling hands and stumbling over words, we can assume that he’s likely crying or on the verge of it.
He asks for physical comfort in possibly the sweetest way I can think of, which is something Solomon isn’t moved to do very often. In most devilgrams or throughout the story, the options to show Solomon physical affection are either introduced by MC or left in the air as open statements (‘I guess we’ll have to settle this with a kiss,’ etc.) When he explicitly asks for physical affection, it’s because he needs comforted (‘Does that look in your eyes mean I can kiss you?’)
We also don’t get to see what emotions he was going through while we were in a coma. Maybe he was frantically tearing through manuscripts as frustrated tears blurred the pages, cursing angrily at himself. Or maybe he was listening to lo-fi beats to undo the curse on your apprentice and just chilling. Or anything in between. We don’t know. But we know he was right there when MC woke up.
Idk I just thought it was subtle but still touching and nicely done.
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I’m not going to reblog the post itself because I don’t want that behavior on my blog, but oh my god I just saw a post about “looking for fics about your favorite character on ao3” and good lord the amount of bad takes both in that post and in the notes?? I have to just ramble about this for a moment because oh my god. it was ludicrous.
people were complaining that, and get this, unfinished fics exist. and that if you read an unfinished fic you’ll have to, get this, wait to read more until it’s published next. they were allll up in arms that there’s fics for a character that don’t cater to their specific interests. that they involve other characters and either do/don’t put them in a romantic relationship when they want the opposite for the character.
like at this point, most of you people in the notes on that post are 1) just being mean and condescending about FREE WORKS you can, may I remind you, READ FOR FREE and EXIT at ANY time! if you don’t like it!, don’t read it!, it’s so simple!, and 2) straight up do not know how ao3 works lmao
like I saw soooo many people in the notes complaining about a certain ship, dynamic, tag, etc, and like… y’all know you can filter by romantic vs platonic pairings, by ratings, by excluding certain tags or other qualifiers, etc etc etc… you know about ao3’s actually incredibly usable filtering and searching system… right… right??
at this point I’m just convinced a lot of these people are spoiled by large fandoms with 100k+ works for their characters and have decided to just be mean and condescending for no reason on main, about literally free fan works you can read for free any time that people spend hours and hours pouring their free time into out of sheer love for their craft. cuckoo bananas behavior if you ask me 🫠
I was legit so close to commenting that maybe they should try shipping two characters with <10 fics, with 0 fics, try liking a rare pair, try hyperfocusing on a character or niche type of fandom with a tiny but lovely circle of fans, and stop treating fan works and fic as Content TM that they deserve to have handed to them that caters to exactly what they want for free and maybe they’ll calm down lmao
like y’all aren’t cool you’re just being mean. we fundamentally approach fic in wildly different ways and honestly the way you do sounds exhausting. literally could not be me, I’m to busy finding joy in shared love for characters and not flipping the table in a rage because there’s one (1) element of the fic that isn’t specifically catered to me, maybe try that and you’ll feel better, hmm?
and yeah I’m aware that last sentence is me being condescending towards them, but frankly it’s warranted when so many people are being that mean and haughty for no reason lmao but truly those takes were horrific. fellow fic writers and even fellow fic readers I interact with, am mutuals with, authors whose works I read, readers who comment and interact with my works, fans of niche fandom subsets that run in the same circles as me— I hope you know this is so wildly not how I approach fics, I love just finding fics for my characters and forming these lil communities where we share our interests and love for them and hype each other up. I love what we have in these fandom niches and I hope you know I would never dream of being so mean and condescending towards y’all. fic writers and readers and fan communities are so special and I cherish it even if clearly there’s people in the notes on that other post who don’t know how to do that lmao. I love your unfinished WIPs, I love your fics that may only partially be what I’m looking for, I love when you write characters in a way I wouldn’t expect but shows your love for your particular headcanon, I love the variety and diversity and variance in fic. I love us. genuinely. fic writer moots I am hugging all of you and I frequently reread your works, even the unfinished ones. ♡
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The frog is staring at him again.
Quackity ignores it and pretends that he isn't being watched. Gods, that's the worst thing about living in Karmaland: he's always being watched. At least before he had the privilege of being allowed some semblance of privacy.
Before...
Before is a complicated thing, so he usually just doesn't think about it. It's hard not to, though, especially now as he wraps leather around the handle of his ax in a familiar way. Once upon a time, someone showed him how to do it this way, someone Quackity can't quite picture through the fog in the back of his mind. This way, he had said, Quackity's hands wouldn't get rubbed too raw by the rough wood. The leather would provide a grip.
A fucking grip, Quackity thinks. He wrinkles his nose annoyedly. Yeah, who here needs a fucking grip? Not him. He's having a perfectly rational reaction to election fraud and betrayal. It's something he thinks that he knows a lot about. Fraud. Betrayal. Cheating. Betrayal. Friendship. Betrayal.
It takes a real asshole to treat a friend like this. What kind of friend goes from saying that he just wants Quackity to be happy to treating him like a kid and ripping away the one thing he wanted in this world just to, what, protect him? Protect him from assholes trying to take advantage of him? What a joke.
The frog is staring. Quackity doesn't know how it got down here, but it's down here. There's an imposter little brother somewhere upstairs playing Call of Duty and cheering loudly every time he murders someone.
Quackity glances at the frog. "The fuck do you want?"
The frog blinks at him one eye at a time. It says nothing in response, but it looks like it's judging him. It probably is. Fucker.
Quackity rubs the top of its head, anyway. A thumb gently strokes a line between its buggy little eyes, and the frog devolves into little froggy purring, and Quackity wants to cry. But he won't. Not now, anyway. He can fake cry like a champ, but actual tears always dry up when he's got company.
This won't be Quackity's first revolution, he thinks. Maybe. The memories are blurry, but he's pretty sure that he's done this before. Somebody died. Someone important. Quackity killed them. He'll kill Luzu, too.
That's the one thing that Quackity knows best, after all. Not politics, not ducks, not music, and definitely not friendships, apparently.
No, Quackity knows one thing best of all: loss. It's all he's experienced on this server between the betrayals and carnivals and births and... everything.
(Rubius in his dress briefly crosses Quackity's mind, Sapo Peta helping him get justice, all the election rigging in his favor...)
Loss. Two universes in a row.
Well, Quackity muses as he raises his ax and inspects it in the light. Third time will be the charm, right?
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