#I’VE NEVER EVEN BEEN TO YOUR COUNTRY BUT YOU’RE A NATIONAL HERO. TO ME!!!

[hamletthedane]

big month for fans of sports and women

[centrally-unplanned]

Stumbled on this 1992 interview with Michael Crichton about his 90's Japan Scare novel Rising Sun, which is very fun. For one, Crichton is a Perotist!

Question: “Rising Sun” makes a strong argument that Japanese business is unfairly aggressive and Americans are foolish to have tolerated this unfairness for so long. Is that a decent synopsis? Answer: Not exactly. Let me just restate it. In the immortal words of my hero, Ross Perot: “It’s not a two-way street. It never has been a two-way street. It’s not their fault.” It’s our fault.

His 90's "Declinist America Needs Protectionism" vibe really comes through in the whole interview, you forget these days due to Trump how much of a Type of Guy that was and how intellectual-coded it could be in that era of dominant "unreflective" neoliberalism.

Anyway, we certainly did talk about race in the 90's!

Q: Do you consider the Japanese racist? A: [...] We’re talking about a historically inward-looking nation, an island nation, largely monoracial. That’s a good structure in which to have the rise of feelings of superiority about your own people as opposed to other people in the world. Of course, these broad statements can’t be applied to the individual Japanese person. One of the things that Americans, as a multiracial society, feel is a tremendous sensitivity to racial comments of all kinds. In the book, one of the things I tried to say to Americans was: Hey, while you’re tiptoeing around the race issue, your competitors are a monoracial country, very much aligned, and tend to hold in common beliefs that would astound you.

Narrator: America did not, in fact, "tiptoe" around the race issue.

But to be clear it isn't like this is super wrong or anything - 90's Japan absolutely was a "racist country" if such a thing is possible, most countries are, and its geographic isolation and relative lack of modern immigrants at that time certainly did contribute to that. What I instead find amusing is the idea that this is a threat to the US; the implication is that, because Japan is a racist country, when they rule the world economically they will in some way impose that racist worldview upon us. Which, I don't really think that is how free trade works? Might have watched too much Gunbuster on this one buddy.

We of course have the classics of Japan Scare:

Q: Has the continued decline in the Japanese stock market, their falling real-estate value and shrinking foreign investment caused you to rethink your views of Japanese-American business dealings? A: No, not at all. I’ve not seen figures on what the growth of the Japanese GNP will be this year. You hear stories about economic distress in Japan, but you see that the growth rate is going down to 4% from 5%. If this country had a 4% growth rate, we’d all feel like we were pumped full of testosterone.

-😬😬😬-

Narrator: it did not stop going down at 4%.

What i love most is how you see the same exact arguments about American "economic weakness" you see today, but with the dates/countries swapped around:

Q: What allowed us to contribute so willingly to our own weakening? Greed? Altruism? Shortsightedness? Arrogance? A: (following a large sigh) You have to look back at broad time periods. It’s possible now to argue that Americans have had no increase in real earnings power since 1962. Some economists would dispute that, and set the date at 1973. Either way, the country is in a steady, consistent and ongoing decline. Why? That’s an extended conversation. 

Obviously since then US living standards have gone up quite a lot! You definitely *cannot* argue that they did not go up since 1962, that is in fact an insane claim. You can't argue they haven't gone up since the 90's either. Even in Japan they have, they definitely have in Europe, economies grow in general. And of course the classic "American companies are all gambling now":

No one invests in a company anymore, in the way it was done in the ‘50s, say, because they believe the company is good. They buy because they think the price of the stock will rise or fall. What this means is that American managers are obliged to manage in the short term. There’s no incentive for an investor to hang on with a company for the long term. In Japan, savings--up to a certain point--are tax free. Why is that not also true in America? You want savings? Then don’t tax it as ordinary income.

I will leave posting a list of the most high-value companies over the past 30 years as an exercise for the reader; you don't need it, you already know them. But I certainly see versions of this dancing around today, and you definitely saw it in 2008 all over the place.

No real skin off Crichton's back, to be clear - prediction is hard, he isn't an economist, most will be wrong. Just funny how the ideological churn keeps spinning.

[docholligay]

Foreign Films to Expand Into

I saw a post regarding the writer’s strike that suggested Americans maybe make the effort of watching a foreign film, and while I agree, I didn’t think its tone was super helpful. Don’t get me wrong, I’m the queen of “Pull yourself out of a rut!!” but I don’t think “Americans are so fucking stupid they don’t realize other countries make movies�� is actually trying to help anyone, so much as add to the idea that I guess the rest of the world is being forced to watch Captain America at gunpoint. 

But I DO want Americans to watch foreign films, in the same way that I want them to watch indie films, and I want people of all nations and stripes to expand their understanding of what they’re used to, to push themselves into something else they might like. I think my family would say that it’s fair to call me a person who is open to experience. I love to try things! That’s why I have the book draw, that’s why I go see movies I’m not sure about, that’s why I actively seek out foods I’ve never tried. You deserve to make your life interesting, to be challenged, to provide enrichment in your enclosure. You are worth the effort of a richly textured life! And movies are often a pretty cheap way to go about stepping outside of your comfort zone. I can’t wait to hear what you thought of any of these! 

Obviously, if you are not American, one  of these may not be foreign to you. Yes, I know that. 

I don’t hold out that all of these are hidden gems--some of them are, or were, extremely popular movies. Many of them won awards. But I do hold out that these are some of my favorites, and I would love to share them with you. I did, however, try to avoid anything that I thought already got a lot of play on tumblr: I don’t need to tell anyone here to watch Parasite, Portrait of a Lady on Fire, or any given Ghibili movie (Though you should watch Grave of the Fireflies--it’s my favorite). 

Pan’s Labyrinth (Mexico and Spain): This is my favorite foreign film of all time and I am breaking my, “I’m not putting any movie on here I don’t need to tell you to watch” rule right away because it is in fact one of my favorite movies of all time, American or foreign. It is a lush story about fantasy, facism, courage, and the horror of childhood. Warning: This movie is very very intense. Do not be fooled by the fact that Del Toro also does like fucking…Hellboy. He also can make very serious, very good movies, and he does not shy away from the brutality of the Spanish Civil War. If you liked Labyrinth but you’re fully grown now and I want a story about fantasy bargains for the adult crowd, this is for you. 

The Orphanage (Spain): I love Spanish horror, and so it was really, really difficult to only pick one. But this has been one of my favorites for years, a classic Spanish slow burn that deals with the long shadow of childhood and the line between the supernatural and the natural. If you like pensive horror movies like The VVitch, I really think you should give this one a try. 

Hero (China): I know a lot of y’all are into wuxia now, but back when this came out it wasn’t a thing I had ever heard of*. Hero is, as the title might imply, a sweeping historical epic with fantastic fight scenes and gorgeous cinematography. If you enjoy stories told in multiple interpretations, high-flying wire work, and with some ideas about war, peace, and truth that tempt without asking too much of you, you’ll love this. 

Cold War (Poland): Listen, I love Cuarón, Mexican and Spanish movies absolutely dominate my list of foreign films I’ve watched, but I genuinely thought Cold War deserved the edge over Roma for the Oscar that year. It’s a fairly short movie for the times, coming in at less than 90 minutes, and it wastes not even one second of that film time. Cold War is a bittersweet love story not only with two people toward each other, but feels deeply critical of Poland while recognizing the impossibility of unbraiding yourself from it. If you love impossible, bittersweet, happily never after love stories with stark and striking cinematography, you’ll adore Cold War. 

Tigers Are Not Afraid (Mexico): I adore an unflinching take on childhood, and this movie is absolutely that. It essentially asks, “How do children survive in a world full of trauma?” and the answer is that sometimes, they don’t. This movie is a little frenetic, admittedly, but the ways fantasy and imagination is woven into a group of street children orphaned by the cartels is something I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I first saw it, and I think the final shot is pitch perfect. If you liked Pan’s Labyrinth this is required viewing, as I think it shares a lot of themes. 

The African Doctor (France): “Holligay, if you put another fucking downer movie in this list I am going to BEAT YOUR ASS” Okay, okay, we’re going to ignore my general predilections and everything from here on down is fairly life-affirming or comedic or easy. This is about a little village in France in the 1970s that gets an African doctor. It’s sweet, and funny, and you come away from it feeling good. Also I still laugh every time Seyolo responds to the fact that most of the villagers had never seen a black person with: “So what? Now they will.” If you like sweet fish out of water stories with nice endings, this is for you. 

Om Shanti Om (India): I maintain that this is the best movie to watch if you’re brand new to Bollywood. It mostly avoid the worst of its excesses while delighting in all of its strengths. It is a genuinely fun film with fantastic songs, and a shockingly together storyline for a Bollywood movie (affectionate). I’ve actually done a full review of this one, but in the short version: If you loved Moulin Rouge and wanted more of that mix of tragedy and silliness on a operatic level, I think you’ll be in for a treat. 

The Warrior’s Way (South Korea and New Zealand): Okay, this movie is not good, and also it manages to be bad. But it’s in English, so if you’ve been sitting there like my dad going, ‘I am not gonna read a movie” well, here you go. If you’ve ever said to yourself, “I want to watch a Western, but I wish it were actually a HK style cheesy action movie” BOY HOWDY AM I HERE FOR YOU. I watched this one insanely drunk and still managed to be like, “wow! This is so bad! Maximum valid!” If you thought RRR** was good, but too deep, you will have the BEST time with The Warrior’s Way. 

Anyway, this is, of course, an incomplete list, and I’m sure I’ve forgotten something I love, since this was just made off the cuff. I would love to hear if you watch or like any of these, and also, if, looking at this list, you have a recommendation for me, let me know! There are so so many fucking movies out there, and so many fall through the cracks. 

I’m thinking about doing another one of these on “Indie movies you might have missed” and also “Movies that were made before you enfants were born” (30+ years) so let me know if anything like that is interesting! Or, if there’s a category you think I might know about you’re into, let me know also.

*I actually have a lot of emotional attachment to Hero, as I have a very distinct memory of standing in the Hastings, in front of the small foreign-film section, and it being the first foreign film I picked up. I was, I think, sixteen, and I had decided that I was going to be worldly, and interesting, and cultured, and so I took a deep dive into cooking from other cultures, and watching foreign films, and buying old art history textbooks, reading classics, and listening to opera, and formal manners. Basically becoming the person I wished I were, that poised Grace Kelly type, even if I was born to the drone of the grasshoppers on the wind. To quote Reba Macintire, “You know I mighta been born just plain white trash, but Fancy was my name” and all that. And this movie was a distinct part of that, in that it was the first, in a long line of me trying to be a more well-rounded and interesting person. 

**RRR (India): Actually on that note, watch RRR. It’s a fantastically fun Indian action film that I keep meaning to watch again because I got a little too drunk for drinking on an emopty stomach the first time I saw it, so it might actually also be good, but I do remember enjoying the shit out of it and there is a scene that has such Fareeha vibes to me.

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (May 31/2021) - Deck of Cards With a Green Smile on Them

Wilbur and Tommy visit Las Nevadas to have some words with Quackity. 

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VOD LINKS:

Punz

Ponk

Foolish

Tommyinnit

Wilbur Soot

Captain Puffy

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- Punz mines out an entire chunk of the server

- Wilbur and Tommy meet at L’manhole. Tommy brings Wilbur to the quarry and shows him the Tommyboxes full of stone

- Tommy and Wilbur walk down the Prime Path and Wilbur notices all the new changes in the builds, including that Purpled’s UFO has been destroyed. Wilbur claims that someone’s being “a copycat” with TNT, figuring out exactly how it was destroyed

(Wilbur is also repeatedly puzzled by the appearance of Oogway throughout the server)

- Wilbur tells Tommy that he received a book: “PROJECT NEVADAS.” It rings a bell, and Tommy says it’s Quackity’s new place that he’s been staying out of

- Wilbur tells Tommy that the book says to come to Nevadas (not saying what it actually reads), and Tommy leads Wilbur there

- The last time Wilbur saw Quackity, they were fighting together for L’manburg -- but he gets the impression, judging by everyone else aside from Jack Manifold, Tommy and Phil, that everyone probably dislikes him. He assumes Quackity won’t have the best impression of him

- Tommy’s never been to Las Nevadas, but the person who told him about it said it was just a little town. They’re awestruck by it as they arrive

- Quackity comes up to meet them, surprised to see Wilbur alive. Tommy asks what happened to his face, but also notices that his piss neck is gone

- Wilbur says he’s glad to see Quackity out of the presidential outfit, and he never thought Quackity was fit for the Vice President role anyway. Quackity tells them that he owns this entire place

Wilbur: “Oh, so you’re -- you’re like a -- a President, then!”

Quackity: “I’m the President, man!”

Wilbur: “...You’re the President.”

- He shows Quackity the book and accepts Quackity’s “invitation” to work alongside him. Tommy asks to move in as well

Quackity: “Wilbur...That was not an invitation, I’m sorry Wilbur...That’s not an invitation. Wilbur, my nation will not be subject to your unpredictability.”

- Wilbur tells Quackity that while he may have been unpredictable in the past, he’s turned over a new leaf and doesn’t lie anymore, he’s forgotten everything he knew about TNT

Wilbur: “Quackity, look me in the eyes...I am your servant. I am at your service, I have run countries, I’ve won elections, I’ve done everything you would need in a leadership role, Quackity! Even not in leadership -- I can be, you know, assistant to the President! Just, I...Quackity, this is everything I’ve dreamt of in a solid marble and quartz...Quackity, you’re making a mistake, man, you need to let me in--”

Tommy: “Wil, this is so cool!”

Wilbur: “TOMMY, SHUT UP! I mean -- Tommy, come over here.”

- Quackity tells him he’s not going to let the same thing that happened to L’manburg happen to Las Nevadas. Tommy points out that it looks like they’re kissing. 

- Wilbur walks around the sandy area asking what Quackity owns, and Quackity owns all of it. Quackity still means to discuss things with Tommy. Wilbur makes his way to the forest next to Las Nevadas

Wilbur: “What’s the point in capitalism without healthy competition?”

- Quackity asks what Wilbur’s about to do. Wilbur leads them over to a nearby spot and welcomes Tommy to their new “headquarters” as they “break ground” there.

- Tommy doesn’t want to start a new country, preferring Las Nevadas. He also repeats that Wilbur and Quackity looked like they were kissing and he feels like he’s getting third-wheeled

- Quackity and Tommy talk one-on-one and Quackity reminds Tommy about how they spoke about the hotel and possibly working together. Tommy brings up Quackity’s eye again, remembering how Quackity has had many “conditions” for a long time

Quackity: “You ever hear about the Butcher Army, Tommy? One day, we were going to execute Technoblade, and we got in a...we got a fight. And this is how this thing showed up on my face.”

- Tommy is surprised that he went to kill Technoblade and asks when this was, if this was during his exile

Tommy: “You’re meaning to tell me that you put in all of the effort to kill Techno instead of helping me?”

- Quackity says he’d be happy to sit down and discuss it, that he’s not Tommy’s enemy. He gives Tommy the choice: Tommy is welcome to join him, even if Wilbur isn’t. He can offer Tommy a management position, a job

- Tommy goes to speak with Wilbur and leaves Quackity, noticing what Wilbur’s built

Wilbur: “It’s a penis of safety!”

- Wilbur asks Tommy to work with him. He won’t stop Tommy, but Tommy is all Wilbur’s got. Jack Manifold’s busy and Phil has ideas about authoritarianism Wilbur disagrees with

Wilbur: “Tommy, I don’t want to make a country. I’m past that, man. I want to make an HQ. I want to make a place where we can be safe for once. Tommy, it’s been so long since we’ve been safe. And man, you deserve it. You’ve been through so much, done so much. Tommy, you’ve changed the world, and all you have to show for it is some scars and some trauma. Tommy, you deserve this safety and this sanctuary, and that’s what I want to make with you, and you won’t get it over there. You know what they say about casinos? It’s all lights and it’s all plastic, it’s all glitter, that there’s nothing of substance. Do you know what has substance, Tommy? Family. Blood. Please stay with me, Tommy.”

- He tells Tommy he needs to make a choice now. 

Wilbur: “I’m not gonna hold you back. If you pick Las Nevadas, what am I gonna do, man? What am I gonna do? I’d never hurt you. I’d never want anything bad for you, Tommy. You can go with whatever you want, but...Just know what you’ll be doing to me. That’s all I wanna say, man.”

Tommy: “There was a time when you weren’t here on this server, this SMP, when I went against...put a lot of things to the side that I shouldn’t have. I prioritized a lot of things -- I put revenge over humanity, humaneness. I guess all I’m seeking now is just someone that’s gonna be honest with me and a place that I can feel safe. I...I betrayed Technoblade, and I just couldn’t admit it. And I did the wrong thing with Tubbo, but...”

Wilbur: “This can be a safe place for them.”

- Tommy agrees to stay here, but dislikes that Wilbur has built the penis into a wall. The two start building a penis in the lake and Quackity comes over. 

Quackity: “History repeats itself, Tommy. You’re just letting this guy use you. You’re letting him emotionally manipulate you.”

- He and Wilbur start talking over each other, bickering

Quackity: “WHO DESTROYED L’MANBURG, TOMMY? THINK ABOUT THAT. THINK ABOUT THAT FOR A SECOND.”

Wilbur: “WHO RAN AGAINST YOU? WHO LAUGHED AS WE WERE EXILED? WHO CHEERED AS WE WERE THROWN OUT OF OUR NATION THAT WE BUILT? THAT WE BUILT?”

Quackity: “Who wanted a better outcome for L’manburg, Tommy? Who did? Who wanted to run a ‘democratic election’ with just one party? He’s right up there, Tommy! He’s right up there above you--”

Wilbur: “Remember the pit, Tommy. Remember what happened in the pit. Don’t. Trust. People. Who would’ve fought you in the pit.”

- They continue arguing. 

- Tommy gets a chance to speak and says none of that made him feel safe. Quackity apologizes and offers them a tour of Las Nevadas. They head over and Wilbur apologizes as well

- Quackity shows them around, including the restaurant that they’ll need to hire people for (the villager is no longer there). Wilbur tells Tommy he’d be fine with Tommy working here as long as he’d still hang out with Wilbur too

- They start going to the casino (Wilbur and Quackity both hurry to block off the strip club) and Quackity brings them into the gambling hall, giving them diamonds to try out the machine with

- After using the diamonds, Tommy puts Linda the shovel into the machine and loses the shovel in the machine. Quackity takes them out of the building and to the top of the Needle. Tommy remarks that it would be a good place to jump off of

- Quackity turns to Wilbur and asks how he’s alive. Wilbur explains that he was swapped with Ghostbur

- Quackity remembers the last conversation he and Wilbur had together, just after the elections. The conversation they had after the debates. (Wilbur looks at the “PROJECT NEVADAS” book again) 

Quackity wants to “pick Wilbur’s brain” again

- Wilbur’s lost everything. He’s lost decades, he’s lost most of the people who cared about him and many don’t even know he’s back yet

Wilbur: “Life is paved with the mistakes you make, and it’s not about when you made the mistakes or what you did, it’s about how you can improve from them, and...I guess that’s what I’m trying to do.”

- Wilbur’s seen Jack Manifold, Phil, Ranboo, Tommy and now Quackity so far, but there are a lot of other people who he’d like to talk to and apologize to and thank them

- Tommy tells Quackity he doesn’t want to sit back and run a food stand. Wilbur gets things done. Quackity respects his decision, but this is something else, not another L’manburg

- Quackity asks Wilbur about the revival again, and Wilbur admits that it was Dream who brought him back. Wilbur has many people he wants to thank and say sorry to, and Dream is one of them, as he saved Wilbur’s life. Dream is his hero.

- Quackity asks when this happened, and Wilbur says it’s been a while since, that hopefully Ghostbur isn’t too lonely in Limbo

Quackity: [About Dream] “He’s not been lonely. Wilbur, Wilbur, I think his loneliness is the last of his concerns. I’ve been keeping him company, uh...as he’s been there. I’ve been visiting him quite frequently.”

Wilbur: “What, Dream or Ghostbur? I’m talking about Ghostbur.”

Quackity: “I’m talking about Dream.”

Wilbur: “Oh, gosh! You’ve been visiting him? Oh, he must love that!”

Quackity: “Yeah, no, he likes the company. He likes the company for sure. Uh...it’s a cool little thing, uh...Tommy, you know about this, right?”

Tommy: “Yeah, yeah, Wilbur -- that’s how I got to go and see Dream."

- Tommy tells Wilbur that Dream killed him, to which Quackity says Sam’s bettered the security system (Wilbur’s surprised to hear the prison has a warden and a system to visit) 

Tommy: “Why would anyone want to go to the prison? You’ve been going, Big Q, to torture the shit out of him, I’ve heard...”

Quackity: “Tommy, what? Tommy...Tommy, where did you -- where did you get that from? What are you talking about?”

Tommy: “Well that’s how -- I assumed, ‘cause of the scar, you’ve been going to beat the shit out of him?”

Quackity: “Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, don’t say that -- not even as a joke, Tommy, come on.”

- Wilbur says goodbye to Quackity (he has “work to do”) and leaves with Tommy. He’s overjoyed that he can meet Dream through the visitation system, while Tommy protests

- Wilbur throws Tommy the “PROJECT NEVADAS” book, saying that Quackity was writing about the old Wilbur, that Tommy made the right choice in not joining him. 

- Wilbur promises Tommy that going to visit Dream to thank him isn’t a bad decision. He wants to tie up loose ends. Dying is a big deal. This is like a funeral, saying goodbye

Wilbur: “Tommy, all I’m saying is, you know...what could go wrong in a prison?”

- Wilbur leaves. 

- Tommy asks Quackity for an Ender Chest

- He listens to “Cat,” alone in the rain, on a small wooden bench by the lake.

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Upcoming Events:

- The final Egg lore stream

- Puffy’s lore

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Ponk’s lore stream

- Dream’s lore video

- Sapnap’s possible lore stream

- Awesamdude lore stream

[jjkyaoi]

hi, hello, welcome to a short ass explanation about my opinions on some dsmp characters because i’m bored. and because you didn’t have a choice of what content you were gonna consum when you hit the follow button =)

- mf this is an inniter blog 🧍🏼. were you expecting negative shit? honestly though he’s probably got one of my favorite character arcs in this entire smp

- “he’s a little shit” yes? and? he’s my little shit and i’d give the world for him.

- literally i’d give my entire soul being just to give this mf some sort of break. he has the worst luck. constantly. and for what?

- anyway can we talk about his character development? man went from a selfish, naive child who wouldn’t ever— ever open up to his own mistakes, to a worn out war soldier who’s trying his best to fix his mistakes / become a better person, which includes owning up to them. he’s fuckin,,.. i cant even. i love him. mwah. 10/10.

- ah, there he is. that motherfucker. what a tool.

- hey, let’s say— can you hear that in the distance? yeah, it’s the sound of all the fucking minor’s he’s manipulated. damn, there’s a lot of ‘em, huh? you’d wonder why..,,,.

- he’s got a neat character arc, i guess, and he’s interesting as a villain, but there isn’t anything that’s stopping me from beating this mf up. i’ve never felt such rage towards a minecraft roleplay character of all things; he is a child manipulator that only does it for fun / the chaos of it all.

- okay tell me that motherfucker doesn’t look punchable. don’t you just wanna punch him—?

- *cough* *cough* he’s done nothing wrong *cough* *cough*

- there’s so much bottled up rage in this body like,..,, i can smell it. i can smell it on him. there’s so much held back violence and i just wanna,,.. MM.

- okay but like motherfucker’s been the victim of these people’s wars since day one 🧍🏼 getting publicly executed? being forced to exile his own best friend? his home country being destroyed? he’s been nothing but a target for these people and i’m :(

- anyway, uh, tubbo goes apeshit arc when? literally when? i’m waiting—

- uh,,..,,, he’s done nothing—,,...,,, he’s done nothing wrong?

- honestly, whenever he opens up his mouth when he’s being serious it’s just facts, and yet nobody listens to him, and that’s Tiring.

- easily one of the most interesting character storylines on this smp right now. there’s so many twists and turns to this and there’s so much we don’t know about his character— so much i’m ready to find out. i’ve never been on the edge of my seat more

- uh,..,,,, motherfucker are you alright? like dude genuinely get therapy—

- beginning to write this, i can feel my daddy issues begin to boil.

- he’s a complicated character for me, because i understand where exactly he’s coming from & i sympathize with him, but god damn if he didn’t fuck up his family and god damn if i won’t forever hold a grudge to the way he tossed tommy & wilbur aside.

- he’s trying his best,,,... and i sort of respect it

- y’know, it’s really saying something when you say you prefer the fanon version of a character over the canon one, &—

- sir, i’m torn between wishing you the best and writing a long ass essay about how your reasoning for things is Very questionable

- honestly, i think he’s a neat character to have even if he’s literally just a cartoon villain /lh.

- there’s a lot i could say about how he chooses to go about anarchy, and his reasoning behind wanting l’manberg gone is something i agree w/ but the way he goes about it is a way i don’t necessarily agree with. there’s a lot of feelings i have about him.

- no matter what i think, that “i am a person” will haunt me for years

- once you look past the fact that he blew up his nation & traumatized his family, he’s a nice little lad!!

- i appreciate that he’s trying his best to be better, and yes i would like some blue

- his character is really just something that’s so bittersweet and yet so interesting at the same time? every seen that has him in it just has this hint of something melancholy; he simultaneously has the mindset of a child and yet. not. it’s interesting

- anyway, glattbur anyone? what the fuck 🧍🏼

- he’s one of the only characters where i see going apeshit, & i’m like “go off little man”

- half the time you’re like “is he possessed or is he just like that”

- genuinely though, his character arc is another one of my favorites; he’s got so much power and potential and he genuinely means the best, but he makes wacky decisions w/ somewhat good intentions in mind, and that’s what i vibe w/. chaotic good anyone?

- he’s not entirely a hero, and yet he’s not a villain. and that’s? so fucking cool

[tillidontneedfantasy]

A Track-by-Track Breakdown of Taylor Swift’s 9th Studio Album: ‘evermore’

“My collaborators and I are proud to announce that my 9th studio album and folklore’s sister record is here. It’s called evermore,” is how Taylor Swift introduces us to this album in its foreword. One might assume a “sister record” would entail b-sides, or tracks that didn’t quite make the cut for folklore, despite Taylor’s explanation that “we just couldn’t stop writing songs.” evermore’s release came at a strange time, upon the heels of the Folklore: Long Pond Studio Sessions film on Disney+, as well as 5 Grammy nominations for folklore. The world still captivated by folklore, it’s understandable why one might not consume evermore as critically. Even as a die-hard fan, I felt some whiplash by this announcement; I am still processing folklore! Hell, I’m still processing reputation!

If this was the Taylor from two years ago, this may have been a big enough fear of hers to hold off on releasing evermore. But as she explained upon folklore’s surprise release, life is too unpredictable now, and there are zero givens or guarantees. So she followed the same path this time (although making sure it fell in line with her birthday weekend). But it’s not just the strategic timing of the release that she’s thrown out the window for now, but also her mindset whilst making records. As she explains in the evermore album foreword,

“I’ve never done this before. In the past I’ve always treated albums as one-off eras and moved onto planning the next one as soon as an album was released. There was something different with folklore. In making it, I felt less like I was departing and more like I was returning. I loved the escapism I found in these imaginary/not imaginary tales. I loved the ways you welcomed the dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found. So I just kept writing them.”

This is a revelation for Swift, to let the music lead her into artistic freedom, which is what makes evermore such a triumphant return. Truly folklore’s sister record, Taylor wrote evermore with the same creative team: Aaron Dessner of The National (Swift’s favorite band), long-time pal and collaborator Jack Antonoff, Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, and William Bowery aka Swift’s boyfriend, Joe Alwyn (as officially revealed in the Long Pond Studio Sessions). Additionally, former 1989 tour openers and close friends of Taylor, the HAIM sisters, join the crew, along with Marcus Mumford for some dreamy backup vocals.

The production is just as wistful and mesmerizing as it was on folklore, yet the storytelling on evermore is kicked up a notch, expanding on the topics and worldbuilding established in its sister record, with even sharper lyrics and an effective and elaborate use of alliteration. The best thing about Taylor is that no matter what she does, her masterful lyricism is always at the heart of her art, and somehow, she keeps getting better. Once again, I wanted to explore the rich stories she’s crafted in this woodsy universe. This is how I’ve interpreted the album, but I hope you find your own meaning in the songs as well.

1. willow It is fitting that the opening track to folklore’s sister album, where we wade further into the forest that is Taylor Swift’s imagination and storytelling, would center on the type of tree that is a symbol of hope, belonging, safety, stability, and healing. “willow,” one of the few more obviously autobiographical tracks on the album, is a hymn of gratitude for her man (as she wants you to know, yes, thirteen times), Joe Alwyn, and how the invisible string tethering them together pulled her to him in a time when everyone else was counting her out. Though not as present on many of the other songs later to come on this record, you can feel the lightness in her heart on this song as she embraces the way in which the willow has bent, wrecking her plans, throwing her into the water and leaving her happily lost and afloat in his current. The downward key modulation throughout the last two repetitions of the chorus is beautiful and very fitting for Swift vocally, but also sounds like the feeling of finding your comfort and settling into it, basking it in while you wait for the next place the wind pulls you. Best lyric: “Now this is an open/shut case / I guess I should’ve known from the look on your face / Every bait and switch was a work of art.”

2. champagne problems On the second track of the album, Taylor dives back into the fictional worldbuilding she began to explore on folklore. While on folklore high school relationships and dramatics took center-stage, evermore graduates from adolescence to young adulthood, not that it is any easier emotionally on the listener’s heart. “champagne problems” chronicles a rejected marriage proposal between two college sweethearts at their old dorm building. Taylor sings as the narrator, a reflective, self-deprecating young woman who jokes about belonging in a madhouse and dismisses all her turmoil as champagne problems. The term ‘champagne problems’ itself could have various meanings here: their trivial concerns, the fact that their “sister splashed out on the bottle” of champagne that they will not be using to celebrate as they had hoped, or perhaps it could even hint that excessive drinking is a piece of all the ways the narrator is “fucked in the head,” as they said. Although the person she is singing to is the one who got hurt in the story, the hurt in the narrator’s heart is just as palpable and relatable, because you only have yourself to blame when you self-destruct. Best lyric: “’She would’ve made such a lovely bride, / what a shame she’s fucked in the head,’ they said / but you’ll find the real thing instead / she’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.”

3. gold rush On her YouTube live chat prior to the album’s release, Taylor explained that this song “takes place inside a single daydream where you get lost in thought for a minute and then snap out of it.” The daydream consists of a love story so pure that the town had never seen such a thing; it could only happen in a fantasy for the narrator. How could she possibly have the gall to call them out on their contrarian shit, or end up with her Eagles t-shirt hanging from their door, when they are so coveted by all, and when she cannot withstand the thought of even competing? She sings, “My mind turns your life into folklore / I can’t dare to dream about you anymore,” a sweet little connecting piece to this album’s older sister, effectively convincing herself out of the idea of jumping into the chaos of the gold rush because even inside her own imagination it’s too dangerous. Best lyric: “I don’t like that falling feels like flying ‘till the bone crush.”

4. ‘tis the damn season According to Aaron Dessner, Taylor had written the lyrics for “’tis the damn season” in the middle of the night amidst their Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions recording after a long night of chatting and drinking with their co-conspirator, Jack Antonoff. The lyrics perfectly encapsulate the guttural ache the track evokes. It is a tale of two people who always find their way back to one another in their hometown, which acts as the ever-returning fork in the road. The path taken, back to L.A. in pursuit of her dreams, is the one she chose and continues to choose, but whenever she returns home, she takes a ride down the road not taken, just to get a taste of what could have been, even if just for the weekend. What starts off as an icy homecoming always transforms into the warmest intimacy. The success of this track is aligned with the success of Taylor’s entire career; even with such specific details, it feels so deeply personal to the listener. You know the street you’d drive along late at night laughing, the spot you’d park the car, the person who stars in every what-if. You will never really know if the road not taken is as good as it seems, but that might be ok; sometimes, the fantasy is better than the reality, anyway. Best lyric: “It’s the kind of cold / fogs up windshield glass, but I felt it when I passed you / There’s an ache in you / put there by the ache in me.”

5. tolerate it Inspired by the novel Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, “tolerate it” is an agonizing track from the perspective of a devoted wife who polishes plates and paints portraits and waits by the door for her husband with a battle hero’s welcome, who at best tolerates all her adoration. There are few things as painful as idolization being met with indifference, when you have all this love to give to someone who just leaves it there untouched. “tolerate it” captures that desperation for the approval you know will never arrive, but you sit and watch, waiting for it just in case you’re wrong, but you know you’re not. Best lyric: “I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life / drawing hearts in the byline”

6. no body, no crime feat. HAIM “no body, no crime,” the one evermore song solo-written by Taylor, has the clearest plot from beginning to end. In the same vein as the female powerhouse country classic “Goodbye Earl” by The Chicks, Taylor is out for blood to avenge her friend, Este (named for one of the HAIM sisters). The story goes as such: Este’s husband kills her for calling him out on his infidelity, and then Taylor kills the husband and frames his mistress. The HAIM girls, who are long-time friends of Taylor’s and former touring mates, lend their vocals to reinforce the accusation on the husband and to provide Taylor’s alibi. “no body, no crime” is so far the closest we’ve gotten to a return to “country Taylor,” proving that she is still the master of a killer country tune (yes, pun intended, it had to be done I’m sorry). Best lyric: “Good thing Este’s sister’s gonna swear she was with me / (she was with me, dude) / Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy”

7. happiness Written a week before the album’s release, “happiness” is one of Swift’s strongest and most reflective breakup songs. Although she writes it as though it is recent, there’s a lot of power in knowing that she’s been happily in love for four years, and that she is even better now at doing the thing that has always been best at. She is finally “above the trees,” as she sings, and is able to see it all for what it is, but her character is still in the heat of it all, trying to navigate the stages of grief when a relationship ends. We see the narrator grapple with many of those stages throughout the song. Most striking is the anger displayed in the second verse when she sings: “I hope she’ll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you / No, I didn’t mean that, / sorry, I can’t see facts through all of my fury.” That section is jarring and feels like one of the most honest moments in a Taylor song, the insanely difficult emotional balancing act when we are grieving a relationship. The devastation of loss can distort our perception, and a part of that is the difficulty of understanding how multiple seemingly opposing things can co-exist in our hearts, such as happiness because of someone and happiness after them. But when you leave it all behind and finally find your place above the trees, you can find happiness after someone and also look back and appreciate the happiness they once provided. Both of these things can be true. Best lyric: “Showed you all of my hiding spots / I was dancing when the music stopped.”

8. dorothea Taylor Swift has the uncanny ability to create such developed and well-rounded characters with such little information, which is what makes her storytelling so compelling. In “dorothea,” we learn much about the title character through the narrator’s eyes, and the relationship they once had. The lyric “skipping the prom just to piss off your mom and her pageant schemes” alone tells an entire story in itself. “dorothea” is also the companion song to “’tis the damn season,” just from the other person’s perspective, which helps shine even more light on the story. The narrator of “dorothea” reveres her but wonders if she’s still the same soul in L.A. as she was back in their never-changing town. Whatever the answer, they’re still willing to support her no matter where she is, but she’s always welcome back in Tupelo by her hometown love’s side if she ever just wants to be herself rather than someone known for who they know. Besides, they’re the only soul who can tell which smiles she’s faking. And you can always return to the road not taken. Best lyric: “They all wanna be ya / but are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers? / Well, I guess I’ll never know / and you’ll go on with the show.”

9. coney island feat. The National What really started the folklore / evermore journey was Taylor’s love for The National. Taylor has cited them as one of her favorite bands for many years, and as we know, this led to her beautiful new collaborative relationship with Aaron Dessner. So it would make sense for the track written with the intention of this duet to be so well executed; you can feel the love and care Taylor put into writing this song. In her press for these sister albums, she has spoken about trying to channel frontman Matt Berninger’s writing style. But what actually happened was she just produced her own signature lyricism at its sharpest. “We were like the mall before the internet, it was the one place to be / the mischief, the gift-wrapped suburban dreams / sorry for not winning you an arcade ring over and over,” is a hall of famer Swift-ian lyric. “coney island” explores the confusion, hurt, and self-reflection when a passionate affair burns out fast because you did not prioritize that person. And to top it off, Swift and Berninger’s harmonies are achingly beautiful, transporting you right there in the story, on the bench, wondering, over and over. Best lyric: “Do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? / Will you forgive my soul when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?”

10. ivy Leave it to Taylor Swift to make a song about an affair sound so romantic, and so sympathetic to the narrator, that you’re rooting for adultery. “ivy” tells the tale of a woman in a lifeless marriage, likening her home with him to the tombstone that the widow in town visits each day. I like to think this is the same wife whose husband was out there building other worlds without her in “tolerate it,” because then that means she found someone who celebrates her love, who holds her pain for her, who blooms all over her; they started it, but she’s fighting for it all the way to the end, nonetheless. “ivy” showcases Swift’s gorgeous vocals and her sharp lyrics, with a melody so infectious it is bound to permanently plant its roots in your dreamland. Best lyric: “Oh, I can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland / my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I’m covered in you.”

11. cowboy like me With the beautifully blended backing vocals of Marcus Mumford, “cowboy like me” is an entrancing love story of two con artists who lost at their own game and got conned into forever with each other. She’d gone from swindling old men for their money and fancy cars to falling victim to the danger of dancing with someone who only has eyes full of stars, and she knows she’ll pay for it. “cowboy like me” is one of the most romantic tracks on the record, proving that life never plays out quite as we plan. Best lyric: “Now you hang from my lips like the gardens of Babylon / with your boots beneath my bed / Forever is the sweetest con.”

12. long story short One of the more pop-sounding tracks on evermore, “long story short” is pretty much a summary of the long story behind reputation (2017). The song is filled with various metaphors for her reputation crumbling around her, and then finally putting her defenses down to be with her lover, someone as “rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky.” It is a sweet ode to her boyfriend, and a gentle comfort to her past self that it will all work out. But it is also an oddly relatable example of how we shrug off our struggles and minimize them to just a “bad time,” when the time she is singing about was obviously something that deeply affected her (as will be further explored in the title track); but sometimes it actually feels good to just shrug it off as just a blip in your life, because at the end of the day, you survived, and that’s what counts- even if you’re not keeping score anymore. Best lyric: “Pushed from the precipice / clung to the nearest lips / long story short, it was the wrong guy. / Now I’m all about you.”

13. marjorie Whereas track 13 on folklore was a tribute to Swift’s paternal grandfather, evermore’s track 13 is a tribute to her maternal grandmother, Marjorie Finlay, who was an opera singer in the 50s, and passed away in 2003 when Taylor was 13 years old. “marjorie” is quite possibly the most touching track Taylor has ever written thus far in her career. Grief is one of the most difficult topics to tackle in a song; the genius of “marjorie” is that it is simple, yet not understated. Swift reflects on the profound lessons she learned from her grandmother, about the difficult balances of kindness and cleverness, and politeness and power. She curses herself for not cherishing the moments she had with her, for complaining rather than understanding in the moment how admirable her spirit was, for all the amber skies she’d love but will never see. The chorus, blunt and hard-hitting, reminds us that someone does not have to be living to be alive, to be all around, to be with us. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing to me now,” Taylor sings towards the end of the song, right before you hear a sample of Finlay’s opera singing in the background, a truly eye-swelling moment. It is clear that Finlay played a pivotal role in Swift’s own ambitions, as she sings, “all your closets of backlogged dreams, and how you left them all to me.” Marjorie knew she was leaving them in good hands. If you haven’t yet, check out the moving lyric video for the song, where you can see photos and video clips of Marjorie, both throughout her career and in her time with Taylor. Best lyric: “Never be so polite you forget your power, / never wield such power you forget to be polite.”

14. closure On the most experimental track musically on the record, Taylor writes off her need for closure from a relationship of some sort, whether it be romantic or platonic or business, all of which can cause hurt of equal intensity. The subject of the song is trying to make nice with Taylor, and she is just not having it, as it is not coming from a genuine place, but rather to ensure that their life remains picture perfect, or to clear their guilty conscience, or to preserve their own ego. This is a deeply relatable sentiment; as valuable as forgiveness can be, sometimes the person who hurt you just doesn’t deserve it, and all you can do is forgive yourself for blocking their number or shredding their letters. Best lyric: “I know I’m just a wrinkle in your new life / staying friends would iron it out so nice.”

15. evermore feat. Bon Iver To close out the standard edition of the album, Taylor joins forces once again with Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, with whom she collaborated on the Grammy-nominated duet, “exile” for folklore. However, Swift leads most of the track this time, lamenting the difficult time she went through in 2016. The piano and Swift’s vocals are haunting, particularly when she describes this time in her life as “catching my death,” consumed by a pain that she feels will never end. If you’ve ever been depressed, you know what that feels like, and the dark places it leads you. Although she is singing about a time four years prior, it sounds so present, and it is heartbreaking to hear her in such a state. When Bon Iver comes in, the tempo of the song picks up, the piano riff becomes more erratic, like a winter storm hitting you in the face, and he voices all the anxieties of the cost of such a downfall. But through those anxieties, Taylor finds not a cure, but an anchor in love, and then the tempo slows back down. By the end of the song, Taylor has the foresight to understand that although it may not feel like it now, the pain she is experiencing is not permanent (a sentiment my therapist has been trying to instill in me for years). In her Apple Music interview with Zane Lowe, Taylor explained how the lyrics parallel the times we are in currently, and so it feels really special to have the album end with someone who knows how it feels to be imprisoned by your pain gently comfort us with the wisdom that “this pain wouldn’t be for evermore.” I hope one day soon, as we leave 2020 far behind, we can all truly believe her. Best lyric: “I was catching my breath / barefoot in the wildest winter catching my death.”

16. right where you left me (bonus track) The first bonus track on evermore, “right where you left me,” captures a moment so earth-crushing, a piece of you is trapped in it forever. In this song specifically, the narrator finds herself stuck in the same corner of a restaurant where she was told by someone she loved that they had met someone else. “Glass shattered on the white cloth, everybody moved on,” she sings in mourning. We have all experienced those moments that we could teleport back to if we just closed our eyes; the scenery, what you wore, the smell and taste of the season, the very point in your body where it felt like your insides were collapsing. Or that one particular person, who is long-gone from your life but seeing them is like time-travelling back to that person you once were, ready to pick up where you left off. But as much as you want to stay in that moment forever, just in case it changes in your favor, the cold reality is that the world stops for no one. Best lyric: “If our love died young, I can’t bear witness / And it’s been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong / I’m right where you left me.”

17. it’s time to go (bonus track) “right where you left me” was Taylor’s cry for help to get out of restaurant, and “it’s time to go” is the answer to the call, as she sings in the first line, “when the dinner gets cold, and the chatter gets old / you ask for the tab.” This song is about gathering the strength to leave situations and relationships behind that no longer serve you. She grieves the betrayal of someone she thought to be a twin from her dreams (almost definitely referring to former friend, Karlie Kloss), acknowledges that keeping a marriage together for the sake of the kids often actually has the opposite intended effect (possibly- but not certainly- something she and her brother experienced), and recounts attempting to bargain with someone consumed by greed, only able to leave with herself (absolutely referring to the end of her fifteen-year long business relationship with Scott Borchetta, her former record-label owner). But as painful as leaving all of those situations was, Taylor has gained the wisdom to understand that walking away sometimes takes as much strength as persevering. You can’t stay at the restaurant, or at the mercy of someone else forever; you have to forge your own path, even if it’s in the opposite direction of what you envisioned for so long. And even with all her past success behind her, as folklore and evermore have proved, there is so much more ahead of her. Best lyric: “That old familiar body ache, the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul / You know when it’s time to go.”

In a time where we are all trapped in our homes and in our heads, the folklore/evermore experience has been the sweetest escape. If anything, the creation of these wonderful sister records has taught me that our most powerful tool in times of distress is our own imagination. Even just the ability to close my eyes while listening to one of these tracks and feel the character’s story is a gift. The way I’ve always been able to pick up Harry Potter and escape to Hogwarts when I’ve felt alone and friendless, I can listen to folklore and evermore when I feel scared or hopeless and escape into this enchanted forest Taylor has built, where I can climb above the trees and see it all for what it is. I feel so lucky to watch Taylor’s imaginative world unravel around me. I can’t wait to see what she creates next.

DISCLAIMER – REVIEWER’S BIAS: I would literally die for this bitch.  

[nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice]

Zutara. My otp since I first watched as a 10 year old in 2005. Hopefully you'll be kind to them 😉 I'm convinced they'll be cannon in the live action 😅

Alright... *starts digging grave*, I think Katara and Zuko have a wonderful platonic relationship and for them to have a romantic relationship would (1) undermine Zuko’s redemption arc and (2) undermine the found family aspect of their friendship. I don’t have an issue with anyone who ships Zutara and I do not engage in shipping drama, but I think their platonic relationship is too damn important to favor a romantic relationship I don't really think has chemistry. 

Personally, I have never gotten romantic vibes from them like... at all? I think the progression of their friendship was important in terms of the show’s themes of forgiving those who deserve it and finding support in people you least expect, but I just don’t get chemistry from them. I’ve always been a Kataang fan but how I feel about Zutara has nothing to do with that. Avatar is one of those shows where I would have been totally fine with it ending with no romantic pairings because the found family aspect of it is so much more powerful. 

If anyone has spent 5 seconds on my blog, you know that Zuko is my favorite character and I think he deserves nothing but love and support after all the shit he went through. But a big aspect of why I care about him as a character is that he put the work in to make amends. He didn’t just show up one day saying “I’ve seen the error of my ways, sorry for all the stuff I did, I’m good now” and that was that. He had to work for forgiveness and he did it because he realized the fire nation was wrong, his father was wrong, and he was wrong. His decision to switch sides had nothing to do with any connection with the gaang because he didn’t really know them. His decision to switch sides stemmed from 3 very important things: 

(1) He felt guilty not for betraying Aang and Katara in Ba Sing Se, but Iroh. He realized his uncle was the person who had given him unconditional love while Azula and Ozai’s “love” for him was entirely dependent on his ability to provide them results. From this guilt, he was able to realize that his uncle had made the right decision in siding with the Avatar and more importantly, that Ozai was wrong and that all the abuse he endured under him was undeserved. 

(2) His experiences in the Earth Kingdom as a refugee. This post explains it really well, but Zuko’s realization that everything he’s believed about the Fire Nation has been wrong is rooted in his moment of empathy with Song and her matching burn scar, his empathy with Lee who lost his brother like Zuko lost Lu Ten, his empathy with Jet who lost his way going to extremes for a cause, and, yes, his empathy with Katara who’s mother was taken from her by the Fire Nation like his was. The reason he switches sides is because after all of those experiences, he can no longer be callous or unfeeling towards the Earth Kingdom like his father or sister. The people of the Earth Kingdom either empathized with him for the pain he went through and appreciated him for his desire to help the helpless (Song, Lee, Jet) or feared and hated him for being part of a country that caused their suffering (Lee, Lee’s mom, Jet, Katara). Throughout season 2, Zuko realized the extent of what the war meant for the other side. 

(3) The realization of the extents his father would go to and the truth about Ozai’s amorality. This point is kind of just the culmination of everything in the last two points, but all that set up comes to fruition when Zuko attends the war meeting where Ozai decides to use Sozin’s Comet to commit genocide. By this point he’s racked with guilt over what he did to Iroh, he’s empathized with people who have suffered and is coming to terms with the fact that it’s not only the people of the earth kingdom that have unnecessarily suffered because of Ozai, but him as well. In that meeting, he expresses adoration for the Earth Kingdom being proud and strong and Ozai’s response is to burn it to the ground. It’s the same treatment he gave Zuko at the Agni Kai when he stuck to his morals and refused to fight and was met with abject cruelty. At that meeting, Zuko realizes that his father is wrong and that he was always wrong. He realizes that millions of people will suffer at the hands of this man who is so incredibly wrong and lacking in empathy. 

SO, keeping all that in mind. His redemption arc doesn’t stop when he switches sides, it keeps going as he makes individual amends with Aang, Sokka, and Katara. It keeps going as he learns from the dragons, as he chooses what he believes in over his girlfriend, as he risks his life to protect the gaang from Azula, and as he tries to help Aang, Sokka, and Katara find emotional closure in different aspects. He helps Aang overcome his fear of firebending. He helps Sokka regain his honor. And he helps Katara address her grief regarding her mother’s death. These four episodes are some of the best in the series because it’s not just Zuko working to make amends because he wants them to trust him, but it’s him empathizing with their trauma, their guilt, and their fear of failure because he’s been there. 

Alright, that’s a whole essay regarding why Zuko’s redemption arc works, now what does this have to do with Zutara? Here’s the deal: if any aspect of Zuko’s decisions for his redemption were influenced by romantic attraction to Katara, it would undermine the meaning of his choices for him. He made the choices to be better because he empathized with a nation of people who needlessly suffered. He made the choices to be better because he learned to cut himself off from the need to please his abusive father and accept the unconditional love of his uncle. His choice to help Katara find her mother’s murderer stemmed from empathy and his desire to be better than the people who hurt him and hurt others. The reason Katara’s resentment towards him hurt him so much was because he was trying so hard to be better than the people that were feared and hated. Katara treated him like Lee’s mom and Jet did when they realized he was a firebender (that being said, Katara was justified since Zuko’s decision to side with Azula resulted in the fall of Ba Sing Se and nearly resulted in Aang’s death), and he didn’t want to be that person. He didn’t want to be hated or feared anymore and he was willing to do anything to move past being viewed like that. So Katara’s decision to finally forgive him? It’s the point where she realizes he’s able to empathize with her over his mother’s death where her mother’s killer could not. She realized that he was different and had changed because he put the work in. And that’s huge for his redemption, not for any kind of forming relationship because that’s not the point. 

Now, concerning the whole found-family aspect I love so much? Zutara as a romantic pairing would undermine the beauty of Zuko’s ability to find a loving, supportive group of people that he was missing his entire life. Katara does not work as a romantic partner for Zuko because she works as his replacement sister. The fact is that Zuko’s actual family experience was founded on fear and not love, but the idea of “usefulness”. Zuko and Azula were only valued by Ozai so much as they were useful to him, which is why he favored (not loved) Azula, she was useful to him and Zuko wasn’t until he “slayed the Avatar”. Iroh (and Ursa for a time) was the only person who showed him unconditional love and support, but that wasn’t enough to snap him out of the need to please Ozai. Zuko rooted his entire self worth in what his family thought of him and engaged in very self-destructive behavior throughout season 1 to prove himself because he “didn’t want [his] father to think [he was] worthless”. Even throughout season 3, he still thinks that his uncle’s love for him is conditional (”my uncle hates me I I know it”) until he’s proven otherwise because that’s what he’s been taught. So him joining the gaang, that’s the first time in his life he’s really met with the concept of people liking him for himself, not for his ability to be useful (his family, Jet) or because they think he’s someone he’s not (Song, Lee, Jin). He’s met with friendship: people making fun of him in a playful way instead of tearing down his insecurities and vulnerabilities (”mind if I watch you too jerks do your jerkbending?” “so all we need to do is make Zuko angry, that should be easy enough”, “look, it’s baby Zuko!”, “actually I think [the play portrayal] is pretty spot-on”), people trying to help him fix his problems (”you need to go back to the original source”) instead of making him feel weak for not being able to solve those problems in the first place, and showing him express appreciation and encouragement (”you’re pretty smart”, “to Zuko, who knew after all the times he tried to snuff us out, today he’d be our hero”, “I’m going with Zuko!”). And that’s so. Damn. Important for his ability to heal after how he was treated for his entire life. He’s introduced to the idea that people want him to be around and they want to include him in their circle for being him. Up until the finale, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to reconcile with Iroh or if Iroh will accept his forgiveness, but these people have given him a home in their group and he’s not afraid or insecure around a group of people for the first time in his life. 

And that’s why Katara has to be the one to defeat Azula: because Azula couldn’t be the sister Zuko had and Katara could be. It’s a tragedy that Zuko and Azula were driven apart by Ozai pitting them against each other, the corruption of firebending throughout the ages so it’s regarded for its power rather than its energy, and Azula’s own insecurities and fears of losing power because, like Zuko once did, she only considers herself to be worth anything so long as she’s better than him. The abuse he endured had an effect on her to because so long as she saw that Ozai’s “love” for Zuko was conditional, that meant that his “love” for her was conditional as well (”you can’t treat me like Zuko!”). Zuko and Azula could never support each other and they could never trust each other in the way that Sokka and Katara could. They wouldn’t sacrifice anything for each other because they were conditioned to survive, to leave behind the lesser sibling in order to get ahead. But at the Agni Kai, Zuko jumps in front of the lighting for Katara because unlike Azula, she has supported him since she forgave him and is there to back him up. She thinks he can be Firelord and she thought his uncle could forgive him in a way that Azula just never could. And that’s why Katara has to be the one to defeat Azula. Not because of any romantic attraction for Zuko, but because he’s protected Aang and Sokka and her and Toph and their little found family. It’s because he’s one of them. So in that moment where Azula is defeated, screaming and sobbing because she’s lost and that means that she’s the weaker sibling, she’s gone and it’s tragic. Zuko looks upon her and he wishes it didn’t have to be like this, but it is and it’s tragic. It didn’t have to be how it was but it did and it was awful and Azula is left broken, hating her brother with murderous fury. But he’s not alone.

He has a new sister who will protect him and fight for him when he’s lost his own. 

(addition: I want to make it clear that this does not mean I think Azula is irredeemable. Her actions and outlook are 100% a product of Ozai’s abuse, as I explained. I do not think that’s she’s beyond redemption, but by the finale she was still a villain and her goal was still to kill her brother so she could be Firelord. That’s not to say that she couldn’t have eventually healed and been able to reconcile with him, but by the final Agni Kai that’s not where their relationship was. The fact that she and Zuko had a toxic relationship was not her fault, but they still had a toxic relationship built on distrust and competition where Zuko and Katara’s friendship was built on support and protection. I am entirely sympathetic towards Azula, but just because she was redeemable doesn’t mean she was redeemed and just because there was potential for her and Zuko to eventually have a better relationship doesn’t mean that they did by the end of the series.) 

[liquid-luck-00]

Seven Deadly Sins x Maribat

Medieval Au

@maribat-bdbwm

Based on this idea

~~~~~~~~~~

Ten years ago.

On the outskirts of the city of Liones, of the capital of the country Liones, in the land of Britannia, homes destroyed, and countless holy knights laid butchered in the streets.

That day will go down in history for its infamy, the day the Seven Deadly Sins betrayed the country of Liones.

---

This is a tale of ancient times, an era before the human and non-human worlds were forever divided. When the Holy Knights, defended the realm, wielding their magical powers they were feared and highly respected. But among them a group emerged, that betrayed the kingdom, and became mortal enemies to all Holy Knights. They were known throughout the land as the Seven Deadly Sins.

---

Present day.

Near the Kaynes Village, there was a new tavern that was a buzz with customers.

“Here you go, drink up.” A young girl placed five steins of ale on the table. She had dark black hair that shown blue, pulled into twin pigtails by two pink ribbons, and bangs that framed her face and blue eyes. She wore a collared off-white shirt under a black vest with green panels. A pink skirt over leggings that reached halfway down her calf. And wore black and green boots. As more people come in, she directs them all with a smile.

“For a little lady, she is one hard working waitress.” A customer acknowledges.

“Oh no, I’m not the waiter, Buddy” She turns around. “I’m the owner of this place.” She turns to walk away.

“She’s the owner?!? A young kid like that.” But she doesn’t hear them.

“Alright, fresh from the oven. The meat pie that made the Boar Hat famous. Enjoy.” Three patrons dug into the pie, and promptly got sick. “You should have known. Our reputation is for having really good booze, but the food not so much.” She said with a completely straight face.

“Are trying to mess with us you little punk.” One shouted ready to fight.

“Wait guys, she’s packing a sword.” Another of the three pointed out. The handle was an emerald green and looked like a dragon with ruby eyes.

“Well, you guys, looks like we have a problem.” Her smile fell and she snapped her fingers. “Now let’s fix it.”

“Come on you call that a mess.” Out trotted a shiny black pig, wearing an earring tag. “Really what do you need me for?”

“Wait!!! That pig. He’s talking.”

“Yes, I’m a talking pig, what a bunch of dum-dums.”

“Plagg, we need to get this floor cleaned.” She spoke.

“Ugh, what a hassle.” Plagg complained. “Scrap disposal is a tough business.” He ate leaving, but before he did, he retorted. “Next time there better be some decent sized scraps.”

“You know I have an old family recipe for whole roasted hog.” She spoke to no one in particular, but with a deadpanned expression. Which changed Plagg’s tune quickly.

Then someone barged in. “I saw it. I really saw it.” He sat down. “I swear to all that is holy. I saw the wandering Rust Knight.”

“That’s just a made-up story, like how parents get their kids to stop misbehaving. The Seven Deadly Sins will come in blood rusted armor, oooh ahhh.”

“The Seven Deadly Sins?” She asks from behind the bar.

“You’ve never heard of them? They’re wanted posters are hanging everywhere, like those over there.”

She looks at the board and there were seven faces and seven names. Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Luka, Felix, Lila, and Kagami.

“How long has it been? Ten years. When all those holy knights were slaughtered so fast, they couldn’t defend themselves. It was the Seven Deadly Sins that did it. From what I've been told the way the holy Knights’ grandmaster was killed was too gruesome for anyone to look at.” They began to talk amongst themselves.

“They say their captain, Marinette, is the scariest of them all. It's even said that she's brought down whole countries on her own.” Everything went quiet.

Until another patron spoke up. “Well none of them have been caught yet have not a single one.”

“They’re dead, they have to be the new Holy Knights would never let them live after what they've done.”

“Yeah you've got a point even now with the kings sick. The Holy Knights are making sure that the Kingdom stays safe for all its people. But those notices up on the board get updated every single year. Doesn’t that mean those seven criminals are still out there?”

“Yeah well some spooky knight walking around in rusty armor sounds pretty ridiculous to me.”

“You’re right.”

A crash, scraping, and banging was heard just outside the Tavern door.

“That smells an awful lot like rust to me.” Plagg sniffed the air and then cowered behind the counter.

The door opened and there stood the rusted knight. “The Seven Deadly Sins…” Hhe moaned as he entered the Tavern.

Screaming, panic, and everyone rushing out of the Tavern ensued. Fleeing from the rusted knight.

The girl jumped over the counter and stood her ground defiantly looking at the Rust knight. “Now who are you?”

The Rust knight swayed and then fell to the ground collapsed. His helmet rolled off of him. And then they saw his face, his eyes shut tight in the pain and exhaustion, his black hair short and messy stuck to his face from the sweat. And he wore a singular earring, a true blue engraved with something in red and gold.

“This kid is one of the Seven Deadly Sins?” Plagg asked the girl, and they took him up to the room taking the armor off of him. “He's just a boy.”

“Let’s just make sure.” The girl went up to the boy and started poking him first on his thigh, then his stomached, his bicep, she was leaning over him and was about to poke his cheek when his eyes flew open. “Yep, he's a boy.”

“Um, pardon me but what am I doing here?” He was quiet and soft spoken.

“Oh yeah you came into my bar then you passed out cold.”

“Your bar?”

“Yeah, the Boar Hat, my Tavern.”

“You’re the owner?”

“Is that so weird?”

“I just saw that sword, so I naturally assumed.”

“Oh, this old thing.” She motioned and pulled the sword from its scabbard. “Ha ha ha. Yeah, I guess if you only see the handle, it can fool ya huh.” All that rose up and out with her hand was the handle and a small stub was left of the blade, which was practically worthless in a fight. “It makes guests think twice about skipping out on their tabs.” She put the sword handle back into its scabbard on her back.

Which was when they moved downstairs to the raven again. Marinette cooked up something for the boy, and set the plate in front of him.

“First you nurse me back to health, now you're feeding me, how can I possibly thank you enough.” He barely choked out.

“First before saying thanks you should probably try the food first.” Plagg’s nasally voice cut into his words.

“What do you think? Awful isn't it.” She leaned down on the bar now watching him eat with a grin on her face.

“Yes.” He responded.

Which caused both her and Plagg to respond in unison. “Knew it was.”

But then something shocked them, he started to cry.

“Still its delicious.” Tears fell down his face.

“So what exactly were you doing walking around in that old armor, anyways?” She asked the boy.

“I'm on a personal quest to find the Seven Deadly Sins.” He answered.

“Why would you do that? You don’t even know if those guys are even still alive or not, and they’re serious villains.” Plagg reasoned.

That was when banging was heard on the tavern door, knights banged on the door, and ordered them to open up for them.

That was when she noticed the boy got slightly afraid at the mention of Knights.

After a moment of the Knights bickering to themselves, that gave her just enough time to think. She went and opened the door.

“Who are you?” One of the Knights asked her as she opened the door.

“I'm the owner of this place. What do you want?” She was relaxed.

“The Rust Knight is in there, send him out!” The same knight answered.

“Alright.” She turned around and looked back. “You might want to come out now.”

They all looked past her and saw Plagg dressed in the armor that the boy was wearing walk out.

“You have some nerve mocking the Knights of this land like this.” He grabbed her by the shirt and lifted her up off the ground. She was small, sure but he still held her up a meter off the ground.

That’s when the boy had snuck out of the back and made a run for it into the forest. Unfortunately, he was seen. “Look a boy just ran out, after him.”

The knight threw her back to the ground and she and Plagg shared a worried look.

The two of them ran after the boy and the Knights, Plagg mowed down, tackling each and every one, while she went after the boy. The last knight got pushed down off of the cliff at the edge of the forest by Plagg. While she and the boy were safely out of the way in one of the trees at the edge.

“So why are you looking for the Seven Deadly Sins anyways?” She asked him once they were back on the ground.

“To stop the Holy Knights.” He answered.

“Are you serious!! Why in the world would you wanna do that?” Plagg exclaimed. “The Holy Knights are the king’s men, the knights are here to protect us they are heroes.”

“But what if they were behind a plot to start a war in our country. Except for the king himself, the entire royal family was arrested and is being held by the Holy Knights.”

“Does that mean the king isn't really sick in bed?” Plagg asked the boy.

“That’s just a cover story the Holy Knights are using. I don't know what they think they can accomplish by driving the nation to war, but now they're drafting people. Taking men wherever they can get them they're preparing for war everywhere you look. So their reach will even extend all the way out here.” He shook his head.

“Yeah tough break, huh?” She finally responded.

“Wow you don't have any empathy at all. How does this tie back to the Seven Deadly Sins again?” Plagg shook his head.

“If there's even the slightest hope of preventing the Holy Knights from doing this. I know they're the only ones who can.” He was resolute.

“Just checking here.” She Butt in again. “You’re trying to find those guys even though you know what kind of people they are?”

“The Seven Deadly Sins are the most vile Order of Knights the Kingdom ever produced, made up of seven vicious bloodthirsty criminals each one branded with the mark of the beast. Ten years ago when they were suspected of trying to overthrow the Kingdom the Knights of the realm launched a full force attack scattering them to the four winds.”

“Well if you believe the rumors they each died a long time ago.” She spoke distractedly.

“Such amazing people wouldn't possibly let themselves get killed!”

“But they are criminals aren't they causing the suffering of the people right now?” She asked confused.

“When I was small, only five or six years old, my father would tell me stories about them and that's when I learned they are the most powerful Knights!”

A rumbling was heard and then the edge of the cliff they were on started to crumble and fall beneath them, dropping them down.

“I did not confirm whether or not they were people named in the report. Conclusion two individuals of unknown origin dead. What do you think men that sounds about right?” A man wearing red armor, silver grey hair and mustache.

“But Sir Twiggle, one of our knights was still under the cliff.”

“Simply put three fatalities in the report then.” Twiggle answered haughtily.

“But Sir, you can't! That’s too far even for you”

“How about seven fatalities instead?” The knight in red armor moved towards the rest of his men, but that was also when she jumped back up on to the cliff with not only the boy and Plagg in her arms but also the knight who fell.

“When I give a signal to you run into the forest got it.” She spoke quietly to the boy.

“Which one of them would you believe to be a member of the Seven Deadly Sins. Neither bears any resemblance to the wanted posters?” He then noticed something. “God is smiling upon me today, the crystal earring you're wearing is from the royal family. Conclusion you are Prince Jonathan!”

“Wait hold on Prince Jonathan?” The knights shouted.

“You're a Prince?” She added softly.

“Orders from the Capital are to determine your whereabouts. the order was to capture you alive and in healthy condition, but if you lost your life in an unfortunate accident…” Twiggle spoke aloud.

“I can't allow myself to get captured not yet!”

“Conclusion accidental death.” Sir Twiggle let off a shockwave of air magic chopping the entire forest down to the ground.

“Hi there, you alright?” She had pulled him down and covered him from the blast. “Plagg?”

“Seriously I'm a shaved pork on a skewer.” He cried. A single small little twig had splintered in his back. And he went off crying and screaming Tikki.

Johnathan stood and started to walk towards Twiggle. “Johnathan. Hey! What are you doing?” She called after him.

“There’s no escape.”

“Wait hang on you just said you couldn't afford to be caught or to give up.”

“Maybe if I surrender myself peacefully, he'll agree to take me back with him and your life can be spared.”

Sir Twiggle sent off another blast cutting into everything again, but she was able to tackle him out of the way just in time.

“Please get out of here while you still can.” He begged her.

“I think he wants to make sure neither one of us gets out of here alive.” She noticed as She was above him once more. After the attack ensuring he was fine yet again, the only real damage done to her, and that was her left sleeve was completely torn revealing her entire arm from shoulder to fingers. A mark barely visible on her shoulder.

“I was so happy when I met you. Searching for the Seven Deadly Sins, I so scared alone in that rusty armor. There wasn't any help I could ask for. Then you show up and show me such kindness, someone that you've never met before. I don't wanna see you hurt my problems anymore when I don’t even know your name.”

Memories flashed behind her eyes and a smile spread on her lips.

“Marinette. If you really wanna know.” She grinned from ear to ear.

“I… I don't believe it you can't be you're just.” Tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

That was when the knight who fell with them regained consciousness jumping up. “Where's the girl the one with the sword. I saw it when she saved me from the cliff the symbol it was right there. The symbol on her shoulder it… it… it’s her.”

Sir Twiggle struck again now closer, right on top of them. The magic was unleashed but Marinette stood up and was now facing the Knight.

“How is this possible? My technique was flawless I am certain my blade struck her!” Twiggle began to look even more and more frazzled. “But I was the one who felt the force of the blow. How could it have hit me?! And what is that in your hand?! A broken blade! Broken blade… now your face is beginning to look familiar. Truly it can’t! How can you look exactly the same as you did then?!? No matter your time's up! How dare you still exist!”

Their blades clashed their magic erupted, which sent Twiggle and his men flying high, high into the sky almost like a meteorite.

“Extraordinary power.” Johnathan breathed.

“Captain of the Seven Deadly Sins, the Dragon sin of Wrath, Marinette.” She announced.

~~~~~~~~~~

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Story Taglist: just ask because after the bio dad even I won’t add the Event Taglist

[alecmagnuslwb]

Marriage is a Contract and My Signature is Unreadable

Read on AO3

John’s never seen a bride wear fishnets with their stunning white dress, but Dinah Lance is pulling it off somehow. Admittedly though John hasn’t seen that many brides that weren’t ghosts or the earthly demonic embodiment of some sort of hell beastie so maybe his experience in weddings and bridal wear is a bit skewed.

Of course he’s also a bit skewed because in his eyes no one at this wedding, not even the bride no disrespect to the woman who’s by far one of the few supers he can truly say he likes, is as stunning as his date. Zatanna sits beside him at their table, the reception in full swing now, her legs crossed the deep navy-blue asymmetrical dress she’s wearing showing off a tantalizing bit of her leg. Her tattoo, the twin to his peeks out from the front of the dress right next to the silver lining at the edges where the dress straps around her neck. She’s a fucking vision his Zatanna.

“I can’t believe they finally did it,” Zatanna says gliding her silver French tipped nails with little crescent moons on them along her glass of champagne. “I really thought Lois and Clark would be the only ones to take the plunge.”

Supers aren’t known for tying the knot, their world is so complicated and their relationships so wild they never find the time to actually get around to it. The fact that Dinah and Oliver managed to not only successfully get engaged, but plan a real wedding and have the ceremony without any major incidents happening in the middle is a miracle if John’s ever actually seen one.

“Who do you think’ll be next?” John says surveying the room. Every hero he’s ever met and ever butted heads with is here out of costume and all dressed up to the nines. There’s a congregation of Green Lantern’s by the bar, Superman is on the dance floor poorly attempting to floss as Nightwing laughs his fine ass off at him, the Flash is somehow dancing with his girlfriend and eating every item on the buffet simultaneously.  “Seems like two in a row will make a domino effect, yeah?”

Zatanna hums in thought her piercing blue eyes with the glittery navy blue and silver eyeliner around them shimmering in the light as she tilts her head in thought. She carefully scratches at the space beside the cluster of tiny rhinestones artfully placed around her right eyebrow and settles her eyes to a table across the room with a smile.

“Wally and Linda for sure,” she says tilting her head their direction. John swivels to look at them. Unlike Barry who’s still zooming back and forth from Iris to the buffet, Wally is wholly engrossed in every movement Linda makes as she talks rapidly her hands moving all about as she speaks to Mia Dearden on the other side of the table. That is a man wholly in love, enraptured by the woman he gets to call his own. John understands the sentiment as he looks back to Zatanna her dark blue painted lips still resting in a beautiful smile.

“What if it was us?” John asks leaning in closer to her a wicked smile on his face.

Zatanna snorts, a harsh indelicate thing that on anyone else would be unattractive.

“Aww, love you too, Zee,” John says faux offended falling back against his chair. He knew it was an absurd suggestion the moment he said it.

“I’m sorry, you know I love you,” she says holding up a hand attempting to hide her laughter. “It’s just look at us, we’re coming up on our first and only three-year anniversary. We’re not exactly known for being good at this.”

It’s a valid point. Despite the fact they have technically been together for over a decade they’ve gone through their fair share of ups and downs, break ups and make ups and even a few trips to hell and literal deaths. John has screwed up more times than he can count and even Zatanna has bungled it once or twice. Complicated has at almost all times been their relationship status, but the past three years, ever since John got his head out of his ass and finally decided to sort out this one particular aspect of his life they’ve been good, solid.

“Okay, true, but you’re stuck with me and we can’t act like there aren’t benefits to the whole marriage sham,” he says stretching his arms behind his head.

“It’s extremely comforting you called it a sham,” Zatanna says giving him a fondly exasperated look. “But you know maybe you’re right the tax incentives alone are a real benefit.”

“Now, the tax incentives would be appealing if I had ever in my life filed my taxes,” John says with a laugh.

“You’ve never filed taxes?” Zatanna says with a slightly startled look.

John just shrugs tossing back the remainder of his champagne. “It’s not like I’ve ever had any real upstanding type of job that would require me to fill out a W4 or whatever.”

“It’s a W2,” Zatanna corrects. “And John you live with me, our landlord made me put your name on the lease because he saw you there so much. You could totally get caught.”

“Eh, it’ll be fine,” John says with an unconcerned wave of his hand. “The fact that I’m not technically a citizen of this country is probably a bigger issue than the tax thing anyway.”

“John!” Zatanna exclaims with a laugh.

“What? You can’t have thought I actually went to a baseball park and held my hands up and did the national anthem or whatever,” he says kicking his feet up on the empty chair next to him.

“Clearly you haven’t considering that’s not at all how citizenship works,” Zatanna chuckles. “But hey there’s a potential benefit of marriage for us, citizenship.”

“Ah the romance of marrying not for love, but so the government pricks don’t send your ass packing,” John reaches out a hand tangling his fingers with Zatanna’s on the table his thumb running small circles into her hand.

Zatanna hums. “I guess lack of romance aside it wouldn’t matter since I can always just portal you back into the country on a whim anyways.”

John nods in agreement trying to come up with another benefit they might be able to actually take advantage of. “You couldn’t testify against me in court, that could be incredibly useful down the line.”

Zatanna raises one jeweled eyebrow, “Is there a crime you’ve committed lately you’ve neglected to tell me about?”

John thinks for a moment genuinely scanning his memories in case there is something he forgot to tell her about. “No,” he settles on confidently. He’s pretty sure at least. “I’m just thinking in general considering my track record in the past.”

Zatanna pats the top of his hand with a smile. “As if any prison could hold you long enough for me to even be asked a single question.”

John just laughs again, “Alright so maybe there aren’t that many marital benefits for us to take advantage of then.”

“No parents to satisfy,” Zatanna sighs. “And of course making medical decisions for one another doesn’t really matter when you use magic and superhero doctors that definitely don’t accept any sort of co-pay,” she adds on with a contemplative bite of her lip.

“Half your friends hate me,” John says thoughtfully with a chuckle.

“And half your friends are dead,” Zatanna says ruefully tapping a nail to her chin. “The wedding party would be abysmally uneven.”

“I haven’t bought a new tie in years,” John says tugging at the red thing around his neck. He looks hilariously basic compared to Zatanna’s ensemble essentially wearing what he wears any given day of the week the only difference being Zatanna had forced him into a subtly lace patterned black jacket for a change and repainted his chipped nails for the first time in two weeks. “It’d make the pictures look horribly out of place.”

“Plus let’s be real I’m a show woman, I’d probably hate having to share the spotlight with you for one day,” Zatanna smiles teasingly. John smiles back shifting so that he’s scooting his chair closer to hers. He lifts a hand to her face twisting a long dark hair that’s slipped from her twisty updo held in place by two sharp silver hair pins with crescent moons at the end to match her nails and tucking it back behind her ear.

“So, basically there’s not a benefit in this world or a thing that would change if we got married,” John says letting the silky hair go.

“The only thing I can think of is that I like shiny jewelry and you look hot when you wear silver rings,” Zatanna says reaching back and pulling the two pins from her hair letting it all fall across her shoulders, the one stand out streak of navy blue appearing as it falls.

“And we can buy each other jewelry anytime without a reason,” he says brushing the bit of hair that’s fallen into her eyes away.

Zatanna smiles at him once before standing holding out a hand that he instantly takes. She guides him to the dance floor twining her fingers behind his head slowly.

They sway slowly to some sappy love song John vaguely recognizes their eyes locked on one another.

“You know,” she says after a while her fingers pulling through the hair that’s getting a bit too long at the base of his neck. “Just because I don’t want to get married doesn’t mean I don’t want you for as long as I can have you, right?”

He does know that. It’s inexplicable to him why someone as bright and vibrant and good as her wants him, but she does and he intends to keep it that way till the demons or the cigarettes kill him.

“I know. I’m happy how we are, knowing us, and by us I mean me, marriage would end up mucking everything up anyways,” he says pulling her in closer his hands moving from their grip on her waist to the exposed small of her back. “We can just keep going to everyone else’s weddings and raiding their open bars.”

Zatanna laughs then leans up kissing him once soft and slow not even smudging her lipstick in the slightest. She stays close when she pulls back resting her head on his chest as they continue to sway.

“We really need to get your name off of my lease though, I don’t need the government showing up and trying to audit me,” she says softly. “I’d be a nightmare for Mistress of Magic brand.”

John laughs loud and bright leaning his head down to kiss her once atop the head already planning a minor break in to the landlord’s apartment. It’ll be okay if he gets caught, married or not he knows she won’t testify against him.

[ofendlesswonder]

Congratulations on the impending release! That's so exciting. Also so excited to see you're taking prompts - 27, if you're so inspired!

27. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

Cat thinks she’s dreaming, when she sees a cape flutter outside her balcony. 

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time she’d dreamt of red and blue and a sunny smile. Probably wouldn’t even be the hundredth, if she counts her daydreams, the one allowance she’d made, for when the itch under her skin, the desire to reach out and touch had almost become too much to bear. 

Had become too much to bear, in the end. Had sent her fleeing across the country to another coast entirely, separating herself from any temptations, from blue, blue eyes and the traitorous voice in the back of her head wondering would it really be so bad, if you told her? 

Yes, she’d always answered. Yes, because I can’t ruin her, too. 

Not like she had every other relationship she’s ever had. Couldn’t bear to see the light in her eyes dim, for her to become bitter and jaded, and look at Cat like she despised her. 

That’s something she knew she’d never be able to handle, no matter how many times Kara had pressed close beside her on the couch, staying long after her work hours had ended. No matter how often she’d looked at Cat like she held the world in her hands, her gaze had lingering when Cat had dared to undo an extra button, knowing she was playing a dangerous game. 

The cape flutters again, propelling Cat out of bed, feet sinking into the plush carpet of her bedroom. Her new home isn’t quite as nice as the penthouse she’d left behind in National City, but it’s a decent replacement, she thinks. Carter had taken some convincing, but she knows D.C. has grown on him. 

“Aren’t you a little far from home?” She asks the superhero slouched over her balcony railing, pushing open the doors with the palm of her hand. 

Kara doesn’t move, and Cat thinks something must be deeply wrong. Why else would she be here, after so long? Why else, after years of silence stretched thin, would she have come to her? 

“What’s wrong?” She asks, a silence of a different kind pressing into her ears. This high, the city traffic is quiet, the low hum of the people milling on the sidewalks below snatched away by the wind. 

Cat grabs her robe off the back of the chair by the door, steps into stupidly fuzzy slippers Carter had bought her last Christmas. The ones she will never, ever publicly admit to owning, but that she adores slipping on at the end of a long day, and joins Kara on the balcony. 

She doesn’t move, remains still and silent, and Cat wonders if she’s finally gone mad. If something in her has cracked, and she’s conjured an image of Kara, a ghostly mirage that will disappear as soon as she’s within arms’ reach. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” she says, when Cat steps close, in a voice suggesting the opposite is true. “Not really.”

“And yet here you are, on my balcony in the middle of the night, for...what? An interview? A catch up? How long has it been, Kara? Four years?”

She doesn’t react to her name, and Cat thinks that might be the most worrying thing of all. A secret she’d guarded so closely, so fiercely, terrified of Cat finding out the truth, and now she doesn’t care? Doesn’t acknowledge it, even? 

No, this isn’t the Kara she knows. 

But then, it’s been years since Cat last touched her life. 

Years, for her to grow and change. 

Years, where Cat didn’t know her at all, aside from brief glimpses of news footage, from the articles she’d read, written by Kara’s hand. 

The woman standing before her may as well be a stranger. 

One she has no idea how to help. 

“You were always...like a port in a storm. A safe space to land, a voice of reason when I needed it. You were never afraid of telling me the truth, even if it was painful to hear, and you always knew exactly the right thing to say. And I think I need that, now, because I...I don’t want to feel this way anymore.” 

She doesn’t look at Cat when she talks, her jaw clenched tight, her fingers wrapped around the bar of Cat’s balcony railing, leaving indents in the metal. 

It’s then Cat notices the blood. It’s caked under her nails, smeared across her knuckles, and Cat’s gaze darts over her body, searching for other signs of damage. 

Maybe it’s not hers. 

Maybe that’s why, when she turns to face Cat, her eyes are dark and haunted, so lost within herself Cat struggles to find a trace of the woman she once knew so well staring back at her. 

��Feel what way?” Cat asks, and her voice is hoarse, because, different though she may be, it’s still Kara looking at her for the first time in years, and Cat had known it was naive, moving away to run from her ever-growing feelings, known it was unlikely to work, but it’s only now, four years down the line and feeling like not a single day has passed, that she realises just how naive. 

Can Kara hear the uptick in her heartbeat, as their eyes meet? Has she heard it before? Does she have any idea, how a single glance from her can knock Cat breathless? 

“Like the weight of the world is on my shoulders.” Her eyes close, and Cat lets her gaze settle on her face, how though she is physically unchanged—something about those Kryptonian genes, she suspects—she looks so much older. 

Weary. 

Defeated. 

“I can’t...I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to. The world needs a hero, but that isn’t me.” She shakes her head so violently she lurches to the side, and Cat steadies her—futile though the gesture may be—with a hand on her elbow, her suit rough beneath her fingertips. “I’m not a leader. I’m not...I’m not cut out for this.” 

Cat casts her mind back, tries to remember any mention of Supergirl in the news, recently, that might make her feel this way. Smear campaigns against superheroes are nothing new—Cat could almost understand it, because who was going to stop them if they decided this whole being good thing just wasn’t for them?

But not Kara. Never Kara—red Kryptonite aside. 

“They deserve better than me.” She sags when she says it, falling into Cat so suddenly she barely manages to catch her, face pressed into the side of Cat’s neck, and her tears hot on her skin. 

“You are the strongest person I know,” Cat says, cheek pressing against Kara’s head, a hand settling at the small of her back, nothing but certainty in her voice, in her gentle grip. “The strongest person I’ve ever met, in fact—and let me tell you, Kara, I have met a lot of people. None of them could hold a candle to you.” 

She sobs harder, and Cat breaks, because what is it that’s brought this beautiful, selfless woman to her knees? 

“There is no one better than you,” she continues, because she thinks these are words Kara desperately needs to hear. “But you’re right about one thing—they don’t deserve you. And no one is entitled to you. What you do, Kara, putting yourself on the line, day after day, forfeiting your rights to a normal life, risking losing it all every time you charge into battle—that’s incredible. But it’s not sustainable. You keep doing it, and sooner or later, something’s going to break.”

If she’s being honest with herself, Cat is surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. Just goes to show, then, how strong she really is. 

“You’ve endured so much. So much pain, so much loss.” The likes of which Cat can’t possibly comprehend, the likes of which she will never even fully know. “It’s okay to have days where you can barely even drag yourself out of the bed in the morning. Hell, I feel like that at least once a month, and I don’t have to cope with anything like you do.” Cat doesn’t know what she’d do, if their situations were reversed. Doesn’t know if she’d be able to cope. “Kara, what...what happened?”

Something triggered this. Something to send Kara flying a thousand miles across the country, to seek out the embrace of a woman she hasn’t spoken to in years. The why, Cat thinks she understands, now. Certainly, there have been a dozen other conversations on a balcony just like this one, though the view had been a little different. And Kara had been different, too, buoyed with the feeling of something new and exciting, invincibility in its most naive form, drawing strength from Cat’s imparted wisdom, which she’d never been truly qualified to give. 

She definitely doesn’t feel qualified to deal with this, with Kara breaking in her arms. Doesn’t know what to say to make her feel better, not without all of the pieces of the story. 

“There was a fight,” she says, and she doesn’t lift her head, the words muffled against the silk of Cat’s robe. “Nothing special. No really. But he...he was strong, and he tossed a car at me, and I...I pushed it off. Didn’t look where, until...until I heard a scream.” 

Kara shifts, leans away, like she thinks Cat is about to be repulsed by her, swipes at damp cheeks with a bloodied sleeve. 

“I didn’t notice her.” Kara’s bottom lip wobbles, and Cat has never seen someone look so broken. “I didn’t know she was there, but she...it crushed her.” She clenches her jaw, clenches her fists, like she can change the story by sheer force of will alone. “She’s six years old, and she’ll never walk away.”

“Kara…”

“Don’t,” she says, so viciously Cat flinches. “If you’re about to tell me it’s not my fault, don’t. Because it is. I did that to her, not him.”

“You can’t save them all.”

“She wasn’t even in any danger though, was she?” Kara’s laugh is bitter, and not one Cat has ever heard come from her lips before. “That’s the irony of it. If I’d never been there, she’d have been fine.”

“But someone else might not have been.” 

Kara scoffs, takes a step back, and for one horrifying moment, Cat thinks she’s going to launch over the balcony and flee, leave her standing out here with an ache in her heart. 

“No one ever talks about the collateral damage,” she says, eyes focused on the horizon. “How many people’s lives have been ruined, because of me? How many buildings destroyed, how many people in hospital?”

“And how many people would be dead, if you’d never started using your powers, hm?” Cat has her counterattack ready, can’t let Kara keep going down this rabbit hole. “Thousands, I’d wager. Or the whole world, perhaps. You stopped Myriad, you stopped an alien invasion. And they’re just the ones I know about.” She steps closer, wraps her fingers around Kara’s wrist, squeezes hard so she feels it. “You will carry this in your heart for a long time, Kara, there’s no way around that. It will hurt, and it will ache, and it will make you not want to carry on, but it doesn’t erase all of the good you’ve done. All the lives you’ve touched, the people you’ve saved.”

“How can you look at me like that, knowing I’m a monster?”

“You are so many things, Kara, but monster isn’t one of them. You’ve made a mistake—a grave one—but it was an accident, and you give up because of it. What you do, is you put on the suit, and you grit your teeth, and you vow to do better next time. You carry on. You persevere.” 

“How?” She asks, and her voice breaks over the word, over the plea, and Cat clenches her jaw so she doesn’t cry, because she knows that is the opposite of what Kara needs right now. 

She came here because she needs someone to be strong for her, because she needs someone to tell her it’s going to be okay—and mean it. 

“Only you can come up with the answer to that,” Cat says, and she wraps her fingers a little tighter around Kara’s wrist. “But I think a good start is, perhaps, a shower. Wash away the bad.” Wash away the blood, staining Kara’s skin. “Come inside.”

Kara digs in her heels. “I-I don’t...you don’t have to do that. I should go.”

“I don’t want you going anywhere like this.” Not on her own, not where there’s no one to keep an eye on her. “Please, Kara. Let me help you. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Why you came here?”

She nods, jerky and quick, and lets Cat pull her into her bedroom, all the fight seeping out of her. 

“Wait here.” She leaves her hovering by the end of Cat’s bed, arms wrapped around her torso, and steps into her en-suite. 

She turns on the shower, sets it to scalding, and waits until the room is full of steam, until the ends of her hair begins to curl. 

When she returns to her bedroom and finds Kara stripped from her suit, she nearly has a heart attack. 

“I didn’t want to wear it anymore,” she says, and she’s shivering but Cat doesn’t think it’s from the cold. 

“I’ll find you something clean to wear.” Something not stained with dirt and regret. She digs out an old, worn Harvard T-shirt and some shorts, passes them over to Kara and politely averts her gaze as she does so before prodding her toward the bathroom. “Take as much time as you need.”

She folds the suit while she waits, puts it carefully on the chair by the balcony door along with her boots. When it starts buzzing, she jumps, worried she’s inadvertently pressed a button she shouldn’t have. Has she activated a GPS tracker? Self-destruct? Were a team of shady government agents on their way to her apartment to cart her off to a black site? 

Thank God Carter is spending the night at his friends house. She has no idea how she’d explain any of this to him. 

The buzzing doesn’t stop, so she ventures closer, finds a pocket and a phone with nearly thirty missed calls, and a dozen more texts. 

Alex is a name she recognises, but Nia and Brainy are not. Another reminder things have changed, she thinks, setting the phone down on her vanity for when Kara re-emerges. Clearly, she hasn’t told anyone where she is. 

“Thank you,” Kara says, when she opens the bathroom door, a cloud of steam enveloping her. On Cat, the shirt is baggy, but it clings to Kara, highlighting the muscle and strength hidden beneath her lithe frame, and Cat chastises herself for staring. 

Not what she needs right now. 

If Cat had ever had her doubts about Supergirl’s identity, if Kara had tried to argue when Cat had named her earlier, it would have soon come crashing down. Because now, standing in borrowed clothes, damp hair curling around her shoulders, hunched in on herself, the woman staring back at her was entirely Kara Danvers. 

Cat can’t believe she’d ever doubted it. 

“Kara, does anyone know you’re here?” She asks, makes sure her voice is gentle, and not condescending. The last thing she needs is her feeling attacked. 

“Like they’d understand,” she says, voice soft, and that’s true, Cat thinks, because she finds it hard to understand herself. “I don’t want them to.”

“At least let someone know you’re safe? Your sister, perhaps? It’s either that, or toss your phone out of the window.” As if on cue, it begins to vibrate again. “She’s calling for the hundredth time.”

Kara sighs, but takes the call, resignation on her face as she lifts it to her ear. “Alex. I’m fine.” 

A lie, Cat knows from one look at her face. She wonders if her sister can tell, too. 

“I just needed some space,” Kara says then, and Cat wonders where her sister might think she is. “I’m somewhere safe.” She casts a glance toward Cat, whose heart thuds at the thought that Kara thinks of her as a safe space. Somewhere to land, when she feels like her whole world is falling apart. 

Cat wonders when she’d earned the honor. 

“I don’t know. Tomorrow, probably. I don’t want to fucking debrief, Alex.” It explodes out of her, so sudden it takes Cat by surprise, her back ramrod straight and her fingers holding the phone so tight it’s a wonder the plastic doesn’t crack. “You saw what happened. Don’t make me relive it.” 

Cat crosses the room without thinking, pressing a hand to the small of Kara’s back. The effect is instantaneous, body relaxing beneath Cat’s fingertips, tension leaching out of her with every breath. 

This close, Cat can hear Alex’s voice on the other end of the line, tight with worry. “Come home, Kara.”

“Not yet,” she says, her voice shaky. “I...I can’t yet.” She hangs up before Alex can argue, and Cat pretends not to notice her turn the phone off before tossing it onto the chair with her suit. She’d done what Cat asked—and she doesn’t think she wants the sister knowing her apartment is the place Kara chose to land. 

Somehow, she doesn’t think that’ll go over well. 

“You can stay here tonight, if you want.” Even if she felt about Kara the way she was supposed to—appropriately, for a woman double her age, and a former boss to boot—she wouldn’t have been able to turf her out when she looks so dejected. “You can stay as long as you want, even. If you want a place to hide away from the rest of the world, consider this your sanctuary.” 

“Beside the Queen of all Media.”

“There’s a moniker I haven’t heard in a long time.” 

“Do you have a new one? Or is it just Press Secretary, now?” 

“Doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, does it?” If this is what Kara needs, idle small talk in the middle of Cat’s bedroom at a stupid hour in the morning, well. 

Cat has never been able to deny her. 

“It suits you, though.”

“And reporter suits you, Pulitzer Prize winner.” The flush that stains Kara’s cheeks is expected, but it makes Cat chuckle all the same. “You’ve been doing good work. I knew you had it in you.” 

“You always saw the best in me.”

“You say that like it’s difficult to.” Seeing the best in Kara is one of the easiest things Cat has ever done. She’d seen something special in her that first fateful meeting—she’d just no idea how special. How this meek, bespectacled woman with the hideous fashion sense would tip her life on its head. “You should get some rest,” she says, when Kara yawns. “You’ve had a...difficult day.” Something of an understatement. “You can stay in here.” 

Kara shakes her head. “I’m not kicking you out of bed, Cat.”

“You’re not—I’m offering it to you.”

“I can take the guest room.”

“There is no guest room.” Cat’s smile is wry when Kara frowns. “Not like I get a lot of visitors. It was three bedrooms, but I turned the third into an office.” 

“The couch, then.”

Cat stops her with a hand on her arm when she makes for the door. “Stay here, Kara. It’s fine.” 

“Will you...will you stay with me, then?” She asks, in a voice so small Cat feels like her heart is being squeezed in a vice. 

“I…” Is there a polite way to say no? To say I can’t think of a more terrible, masochistic idea than that without breaking the poor girl’s spirit? 

“Please? I...I don’t want to be alone.” It’s the sheen of tears in her eyes that does it, the wobble of her lip, the desperation in her voice, and Cat tells herself that it’s not specifically her that Kara wants. It’s the comfort, it’s the presence of another warm body, to ward off the chill of loneliness. 

And yet, it was her that Kara had sought out. 

And that has to mean something, even if it’s not what she so desperately wants to be. 

“Okay, I’ll stay,” she says, knowing the memory of Kara wrapped up in her sheets will linger long after they’ve been washed, but knowing, also, that it’s worth it, for the way her face lights up when Cat pulls back the covers and climbs inside. 

She has to be up in four hours, she thinks, wincing when she glances at the clock. 

Worth it, she thinks, as Kara slips in beside her. Worth it, when she turns to Cat in the dark, and presses into her side, face in the crook of her neck, and tears once again damp on her skin. 

Cat holds her, and she doesn’t sleep a wink, even when Kara’s breathing deepens, hot against her skin, fingers twitching where they’re gripping at Cat’s robe, still wrapped around her shoulders. 

Cat holds her, and thinks they might not talk about it tomorrow—Kara might, perhaps, wake up mortified in her former boss’ bed, the light of morning bringing with it a sense of clarity that maybe the decision to come here was wrong. Kara might, perhaps, flee without saying goodbye, and Cat may never see her again.

And Cat would accept that decision without question, because for her, this is enough.Stitching the broken parts of Kara back together, being here for her, offering her the comfort she so desperately needed, means more to her than anything else ever could.

[vs-redemption]

This was part 2 of request but for separate. I promised I’d throw in Bakugou so can we imagine our Firecracker x reader who’s quirk is like Wonder Woman??? (Don’t ask me why’ve I’ve been stuck on marvel/dc x mha lately! Lol)

~🐱❤️

From Cindy: Thank you for the request 🐱! I decided to stick with just wonder woman’s natural abilities. She’s already so powerful even without the whip and bracelets. When I was looking up her abilities I was shocked. I had no idea she was almost as powerful as Superman. Wow! I wouldn’t want to mess with her. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Wonder Duo (Bakugo x Fem!Reader with a Wonder Woman quirk)

It hadn’t even taken you a single month after getting your hero license to make it onto the international news for single handedly taking down some insanely strong villain along with their entire group of underlings. Even before you’d graduated from your high school hero course, agencies from around the globe had been clambering over each other to try and recruit you, willing to pay almost any price to have the peace of mind you’d bring knowing you’d protect them and their homeland. And with a quirk like yours, it was no surprise that you were in such high demand. Unparalleled strength, flight, and superhuman speed were just a few of the abilities you possessed that had caused fans to emerge from all walks of life to support you. Everyone seemed to eat up any scrap of media attention you appeared in hungrily, except for one particular guy named Katsuki Bakugo.

The hero known as Dynamight endured your existence with a growing resentment. Despite never having met you, he still hated the fact that you were hogging the spotlight. You were gaining popularity faster than what seemed possible, and soon enough you’d even overtaken his spot at the top of the Billboard charts too. Over the years, he’d accepted that he’d have to compete with his old classmates to be the number one hero in the country, but to him you were just some random extra that had come out of nowhere. To say that he was unhappy was an understatement.

“What do you mean she’s coming here?!” He had half a mind to blast his PR manager into next week for even suggesting to invite you to his agency. “I never consented to that! What the hell?!”

“A team up with her is going to give your own ratings a huge boost, sir.” The poor employee reasons. “The public loves her, and you’re one of the only pro heroes she’s even agreed to collaborate with. On top of that, it would be rude to retract our offer now.”

“I can boost my own ratings,” Bakugo growls as he stomps around the office, palms crackling with mini explosions. “It’s not like she knows this area anyway, so she’ll probably just get in my way!”

On the fated day of your introduction with Bakugo, the meeting did not go anything like either of you had planned. It was no secret that Bakugo was competitive, but the last thing you had expected the moment you saw him was for him to issue a challenge without so much as a ‘Hello.’ And the last thing he’d expected was for you to calmly accept without blinking an eye. He wasn’t stupid. He knew you’d be able to beat him in both speed and strength, but he couldn’t stop himself from at least trying. He had to know the difference in your abilities so he’d be able to find a way to reduce the gap somehow.

Nobody was going to try to stop either of you when you both were obviously hell bent on seeing how far you could push each other, and it would’ve blown their minds if they knew Bakugo had developed a little crush on you within the first couple hours of sparring. Sure, you were better than him at a lot of things, but not all. Not everything could be accomplished with brute force, and Bakugo was a quick strategist, He was already thinking of ways to capitalize on your strong points and work them into his own fighting style. He was surprised when you asked him for any advice or tips he might have after you’d sufficiently worn each other out, and it made him like you even more that you respected his opinion despite the obvious advantages you had over him.

“So, how long are you staying?” He asks you at the end of the day, hoping it wasn’t obvious that he was already calculating you into his future plans.

It only took a few simple patrols for you both to put complete trust in one another. Bakugo never doubted that you’d have his back, even if he rushed into a situation without giving you any sort of warning. And you were the opposite, remembering to hold yourself back just in case Bakugo had noticed or thought of something you hadn’t. By the end of your time at his agency, the crime rate in the city and surrounding areas had decreased drastically. Nobody wanted to risk having to deal with the two of you.

“Go kick some ass!” Bakugo grins at you when it’s time for you to leave. “And you better not make me wait too long before coming back.” He hated to let you go, but there were other places that desperately needed you. And while he used to complain every time your face popped up on the TV or in a magazine, now he just bragged about how many kilometers per hour you could fly or how he’d seen you lift a 60,000 pound semi-truck over your head with one hand. In interviews, you both had nothing but positive things to say about each other and the admiration between the two of you was obvious.

Whenever possible, you both met up to spar again to make sure the other person hadn’t been slacking off with their training. Bakugo loved how you kept him motivated and pushed him to improve, and you loved the challenge of trying to figure out what tricks he had up his sleeve and attempting to outsmart him. Neither of you could deny the intense chemistry you had and soon Bakugo was asking you to be his. He had never dreamed he’d end up with someone stronger than him, but he still considered himself the winner just by being the one to have you at his side. You, on the other hand, were just happy to have found a partner that wasn’t intimidated by your power and that treated you like an equal. Once the news of your relationship got out, you both went from being the top two heroes in the nation to the number one power couple in the world practically overnight.

[saintprivateer]

I understand the ideas behind the zemenipearls post but can we not just have a nice fictional world? It’s not like the Kerch are made out to be a great nation of saintly people, it’s all fantasy for a reason. I won’t get started on their posts about my girl Nina and my dude Nikolai 😒

Okay... there’s a lot of ground to cover here so boot up cowhand I wrote a LOT

No matter how unlike-this-world a fantasy universe seems, it was still crafted by a real human who IS a part of this world. And humans put their own beliefs and experiences into their stories as the foundation for how ideal/ not-ideal they want the au to be. We use the environment around us as a stepping stone for our stories, and this DOUBLES if the author is saying “This World Is Not Like Ours At All”. The question authors answer of “What exactly is this au not like?” Rounds back to the place we are trying to distance ourselves from, because that is what this au is “not like.” And most often, authors craft these fantasy universes and bring the reader into a whole new world only to go back to a REAL theme of “This World Is Actually More Like Yours Than You Think.” Because that’s usually the entire point. We like fantasy because we want to see our nature mirrored in worlds unlike ours. We love that people can fly and cast spells, but we REALLY love when they’re as human as us in behavior/interests/ actions.

All that’s to say: you can’t actually write a racism-free world if you’ve never experienced a racism-free world. The ideals we want to portray will still be flawed and not 100% ideal, because the notion we have OF this ideal is fundamentally flawed. ESPECIALLY if we are still unlearning our own fallacies to these ideals. Grishaverse has anti-blackness threaded in the pages because there is anti-blackness on Earth and anti-black fallacies in the ideals Leigh Bardugo has internalized (like any other white person). If we can acknowledge the argument that meanings can be found in stories/art whether it was intended or not, then we have to acknowledge Leigh Bardugo wrote in her own prejudice or anti-black ideals into the grishaverse, whether intended or not. She wanted to write a story removed from the racism we know, and that in of itself isn’t a bad thing to imagine. But she still wrote tropes actively harmful to the minorities they represent.

“Why do you have to look for patterns that aren’t there and nitpick on characters? Why does everything have to be about race? Isn’t it enough that our heroes are TRYING to be good?”

When people say this, they usually mean “Why are you putting this in my face? We (the group not affected) were all doing fine until you decided to be grumpy about something, and I don’t want my ideals soiled by your criticisms.”

Imagine seeing the person who’s supposed to represent you and your identity be repeatedly trashed, ignored, dumbed down, dismissed, killed off, etc etc in canon and in the fandom, and when you finally get the courage to bring it up, the entirety of people not affected silence and threaten you for rocking their boat. You really can’t imagine how that actually feels unless you’ve felt it. When you write off the consistently abusive treatment of a community of people in a book as an inconvenient—and thus invalid— topic that “ruins” the characters or plots you want to root for, you’re acknowledging the privilege you have in being able to look the other way when these patterns have been brought to your attention.

There’s a lot you might not catch when you aren’t a part of the communities affected. If someone is gracious enough to extend their emotional and intellectual labor to point it out to you despite the all the gaslighting and harassment they face, the LEAST you can do is have an open mind and release the defenses and previous ideals you’ve cultivated for the characters you love. Black fans don’t owe it to you to spell it out, but they sometimes do! Despite how white fans treat them in return.

You said “it’s not like the Kerch are made out to be a nation of great saintly people.” Great! So we agree everyone should be praised and criticized accordingly? And when it’s pointed out that a character exhibits bigotry we can acknowledge that as a part of the environment they’ve lived in and thus a trait of themselves?

You can enjoy any universe or the characters that come with it in full capacity, and no one is asking you to discard stories entirely because of the mistakes. Nikolai meant and means a lot to me because of the ideals that I crafted in my head from 16 up. He’s a comfort character! He was my vision of a masc-presenting adventurer who got by with wit and charm and aesthetics. The people who love him see something of themselves in him, or someone they love. But he’s still a product of his environment. Just because I don’t want that to be true doesn’t make it untrue. Ravka is fantasy Russia but .*•*~more idealistic*.~*. This doesn’t take away the fact that the foundation is...still Russia. He’s still a privileged white king thats actively oppressing minorities in the story by upholding the kingship as it is, and if he continues the path he’s on, he’s not much better than his heritage. I love Nina to death but she’s still the jarhead kid in your algebra class ready to fight anyone who says her country merits basic criticism. The kingdom of Ravka would need to be entirely dismantled and recreated. Nikolai might seem more progressive than the kings before him, but he’s got a lot to be reprimanded for, and rebuilding can’t even start until he acknowledges and unlearns that. Which...he hasn’t, not fully, and there’s no written proof of him doing so as of now.

Before I made myself research more I got just as defensive of him and others. I’m sure I’ll get defensive over another story and have to relearn everything all over again. It’s a process and you have to check yourself all the time. But it’s a step towards the ideals we want to actually live in. If I want to imagine Nikolai a better man, I have to start from the scraps I’m given.

So yes!! You’re allowed to draw up your own themes and ideals from the stories and reimagine the characters to fit a narrative that makes your heart happy. But it won’t change the reality of the canon universe. Zemenipearls enjoyed the grishaverse so much she made a fan account for it, participates in fan-led events that celebrate the characters (and sometimes leads those events herself), commissions artists to make fanart, and has ongoing works that delve into the expansive universe that better represents her and what she wants for black characters in fantasy. And she STILL gets shit for imploring a conversation about what we all want to ignore away. Why would she put so much energy into this if she didn’t care or believe in this story too? If you also care about grishaverse that much, shouldn’t we be willing to uplift and reimagine by starting where the work needs it most?

Okay I’ve said a LOT SORRY HHHHH BUT TO WRAP UP: Ignoring a fictional character’s faults or repercussions is one thing, and I’m not about to waste energy on making people hold characters in a book accountable. We all see how people treat the Darkling.

But when you participate in or ignore the bullying and threatening that happens to REAL people, when people JUSTIFY that shit as if it merits denying a person their humanity, THATS the actual harm being done. (Not saying you’ve done that, but the mindset I’m seeing here is what feeds into that compliance.)

If we have the energy to protect and coddle our fictional white boys and let them burn the sandbox down, I KNOW we have energy to respect and protect black fans who have just as much say in how they see the story or how they reimagine it. If you have the energy to accept/tolerate the stuff alarkling fans promote, I KNOW you have the energy to put your pride away and acknowledge fallacies in your own ideals for characters. And regardless!!! of whether you “agree” with the criticisms or not, does that mean the person who spoke up about the issue deserves to be harassed?

I’m gonna ask the white ya majority reading this to be humble and open your hearts up to change the way you do for fictional edgy white dudes. Y’all have the SPIRIT but then it funnels into the WRONG IDEAS!!! PLEASE use your heads you’d be unstoppable if you used your privilege to amplify the ones who need amplifying. I promise Cardan BlackBerry and Alesksxxander Marigold aren’t gonna be disappointed in you 😔🙏

[alexthemagicaldevil]

Of Medea, Jason, and Other Tragedies

Some of you might remember a post I made a little while ago comparing how Quackity and Technoblade fit into the lore of the DSMP. Here are my thoughts via a 3k words of angst:

Read it on AO3

There was nothing left of L’Manburg.

It was something universally understood and known. Something that was never questioned. Something that everyone just accepted so that they could move on and not think about the nation that had too many traitors, too many broken promises, too many memories. It was something that everyone thought they believed so that they wouldn’t go looking for little pieces left behind, pieces that miraculously survived the desimation.

But Quackity knew the truth. Those little pieces could be found without looking too hard, whether it be in the fractured relationships of the SMP or the physical evidence that managed to not become ash at the bottom of a crater. And Quackity, well, he held both of those pieces in the palms of his hands.

In one hand, he held the souls of those fractured by L’Manburg’s memory. Fundy and his desperate need of a stable family, with a past scarred by a father that went mad and nightmares that haunt his waking actions. Sam and his futile attempts at control, gradually being poisoned as he pushes everyone away and tries to single handedly keep the server’s god locked in his own prison. Purpled and his lack of legacy, even in a place he so heavily influenced and his skills so valued yet so dismissed. Foolish and his beautiful builds and broken heart, running away from his destructive past and wanting peace despite the possibility of godhood sitting at his fingertips.

In the other hand, Quackity held a poster, one of the last remaining remnants of the place he had once fiercely declared home. He has no idea how it survived. Most of the physical pieces of L’Manburg that could be found were sections of buildings just far enough away from the explosions, items in random chests, or whatever was on the citizens at the time. Yet somehow, through all the fire and TNT, this poster had survived.

Technoblade. Wanted dead or alive.

Quackity had found it relatively soon after Doomsday, wandering around the crater where L’Manburg once stood. It was slightly singed on the edges and an entire corner was gone, but there it was, lying on the ground innocently, Technoblade’s mocking eyes staring at him with something like satisfaction.

He should have left the thing there. It would have eventually faded away like the rest of L’Manburg with enough time under the elements. Or maybe he should have burned it and forgot it was there in the first place. Whatever he should have done, picking it up, carefully folding it, and stuffing it into his back pocket was definitely not it. But he did. And it stayed with him for a long time.

At first, it was just there, a burning reminder in his back pocket of all he failed to do and what he promised to accomplish. It was there as he built Las Nevadas from the ground up, barely noticeable besides the constant nagging reminder in the back of his thoughts. It was there when he hired Purpled and Technoblade to take care of the Eggpire that had gone on for far too long, growing heavier and heavier each time the Blood God looked at him. It was there when he found out about Kinoko Kingdom for the first time, how the only three people he thought he could trust, the reasons he built Las Nevadas in the first place, left him behind without a second thought.

(The poster didn’t feel heavy then, but it did feel like it was laughing at him. Low and monotone, coming from deep within his memories.

The poster didn’t feel heavy then, but the two rings threaded through a chain around his neck did. They felt like shackles threatening to weigh him down and drown him.

Quackity removed the rings and hid them in a chest after that. Somehow, though, they still felt suffocating).

The poster was there for everything, tucked away in his back pocket, even when he began recruiting members for Las Nevadas. Through Foolish and Fundy, Purpled and Sam, and even through Slime. It knew everything, Quackity would find himself thinking. Of course, there was no way for a poster to know anything, but it didn’t stop the thought.

It wasn’t until after Wilbur visited him with Tommy after his revival (and so many memories of Pogtopia) that he finally took the poster out of his pocket. He was alone at the time (as he always is these days, it feels like, even surrounded by other beings) and in his unfinished casino. Sam had left nearly an hour ago to continue his duties as the Warden at the prison. The echoes of their conversation reverberated through Quackity’s mind.

Technoblade is going to the prison to see Dream tomorrow, he remembers saying. I trust you know what you have to do.

Of course, Sam had replied, the intense green of his eyes sparking in the dim lighting of the casino. You’ve done your part. Now I’ll do mine.

Quackity stared at the glass of whiskey in his hand. It had always Schlatt’s drink of choice, when he was still breathing. The smell reminded Quackity of the long nights he spent as Vice-President to a man barely sober enough to stand, let alone run a country. How many times had he put the smallest amount of poison in Schlatt’s drink, hoping that this time, it would be enough to end him for good? How many days had he spent hiding bruises and putting on fake smiles, wondering if it was all worth it? How many nightmares had he endured, thinking about everything Schlatt did and made him do?

He drank all the whiskey in one go. It burned his throat and pooled like fire in his stomach.

The glass made a satisfying thud on the counter as Quackity set it down. It was then that he finally reached for the poster in his back pocket, holding it almost gently in his scarred hands. He traced the edge of it with his finger, thinking deeply.

Quackity unfolded the poster, one fold at a time. The folds were deep from the sheer amount of time it’s spent in his pocket. It was honestly a miracle that it was still intact, given the state it was in when Quackity found it and the constant strain it’s been under since.

When Quackity finished unfolding the poster, he placed it against the wall and used his empty whiskey glass to hold it up. It looked just like he remembered, even back when the Butcher Army was first created. Sure it was faded and threatened to fold on itself at any moment, but it was still there. The reward, Technoblade’s face, the L’Manburgian flag.

Quackity stared into Technoblade’s red eyes. It was only a drawing, but whoever had done the picture nailed the resemblance to the Blood God. The scar over his eye and lip itched just looking at it.

“You know Technoblade,” Quackity found himself saying. “Before we met, I always had a healthy respect for you. Who didn’t? Everyone was in awe over the Blood God, the most terrifying fighter of our generation, rumored to never be able to die.” He sighed. “Of course, fighting was never my strong suit. You found that out first hand,” he added with some humor, though it felt flat. “Still, a part of me longed to do what you do. Words can only get you so far, get you so much respect.

“They say you should never meet your heroes. Something in that has to be true, because ever since I’ve known you, my life has been nothing but one bitter failure after another.” The poster didn’t reply, and Quackity understood with some absurdity that he was literally talking to a poster as if it were a real being. Still, he continued on.

“Well, maybe that’s giving you too much credit, but it sure feels like that. It’s just,” he trailed off slightly, moving his hands around, trying to figure out some way to articulate his point. Words were supposed to be his weapons, but here, vulnerable and trying to express something that’s been gnawing at him for so long, they scrambled in his throat. “Somehow you come out of every battle, every conflict without a single mark, yet I’m punished for every decision I’ve made since I came to this Primeforsaken SMP.”

And those words, Quackity realized, are when the floodgate inside his chest burst.

“No matter what you do, who you hurt, who you kill, what everyone wants or tries to accomplish, you have never paid for anything you’ve done to the people of this server. I remember when we took down Schlatt with Pogtopia, how you were so insistent that the government had to be taken down, all the while talking about how it was the people’s choice to live how they wanted to live. Well guess what, shithead? The people, L’Manburg, us, we decided that we wanted a government, one that listened to us and one that we could trust. And what did you do once the people made their choice? What did you do after we had called you our friend and said you didn’t have to live by our ways if you didn’t want to? You called us traitors. Said we used you, when all you ever wanted was an excuse to push your own anarchist bullshit down the throat of any server that would give you the time of day. You’re somehow the biggest hypocrite I’ve ever met, even in a world where Dream runs around as the Admin.

“But that’s not even the worst of your sins, isn’t it? I’ve watched you blow up countries with no remorse, execute a child on the whim of a dictator, corrupt and hurt every single person I’ve ever cared about, destroy what I put every ounce of my heart and soul into like it was nothing.”

There were tears aching behind his eyes now. Quackity took a shuddering breath, trying to calm his hurting heart. He thought about Schlatt and his time in Pogtopia, thought about Tubbo and Tommy and Niki and every other L’Manburgian face as they realized the nation they loved was gone at Technoblade and Wilbur’s hands. “And what were your consequences for all of this? What karma did the oh so powerful universe decide you deserved?

“Nothing. Not a single, goddamn thing. For all your violence and bloodshed, you get to live in a nice cottage in the Arctic, filled with friends that celebrate your birthday, and not a single regret.”

Quackity smiled blankly at the poster, raising his hands. By now he was full on pacing in front of it, his shoes making soft noises against the tile. All the while, Technoblade’s red eyes watched his every move.

“But what about me? Prime knows I’m the furthest thing from a saint this server has to offer, but at least I had good intentions. I went against Wilbur during the elections not because I wanted power, but because I saw what he was doing and no one else was going to call him out on his bullshit. I mean, come on! Running a single party election in a so-called democratic nation? Now, that doesn’t mean I didn’t do bad things. I should have left Schlatt the moment I realized just how bad he was. I shouldn’t have waited until after he ruined L’Manburg and executed Tubbo to join Pogtopia. It haunts me every waking moment.” Quackity stopped his pacing for a moment, lost in the memories. Tubbo screaming, the flash and bang of a firework. The explosion of color from the second firework immediately after, because the first one hadn’t been enough. The burning in his chest as he was hit with a firework of his own.

“And then, after you and Wilbur decided to blow it all to kingdom come, I did everything I thought was best for L’Manburg. I helped people. I rebuilt everything you destroyed and made it better. I wanted to hunt you down and make you pay for everything you did.” His scar began to itch again. “But I guess we both know how that turned out.

“And what were my consequences for this? For doing my best, realizing my mistakes, trying to fix them, trying to protect those around me? What karma did the oh so powerful universe decide I deserved?

“Everything. I was punished for everything. Every place I called home, every person I called a friend, every time I fell in love, anything I tried to protect, every time I tried to be happy, I was punished for it. Somehow in this fucked up version of the story, I’m the villain that needs to be punished for their actions, while you’re the blameless hero that gets a happily ever after!”

Quackity was near yelling at this point. It felt good to let out all of his emotions after so long, putting everything into the open even if no one else heard him. He forced himself to calm down slightly, running a hand through his hair.

“Have you ever heard the story of Medea and Jason?” he asked abruptly. The air of the casino seemed to shift uncomfortably with his sudden change of tone, lighter and lower than before. “You probably have, with your obsession with Greek Mythology and shit. You know something interesting about Medea, though? Even though she did horrible, and I mean horrible things, she never lost the favor of the gods. She abandoned her country for some random dude she fell in love with, plotted the murders of her brother and father, as well as murdered a princess with a poison so strong that it killed anyone she touched, and even killed her own children. Yet she doesn’t pay for any of it. Through all of the murder and sorcery, the kept her favor with the gods, and was allowed to have a happy ending. Hell!” Quackity let out a barking laugh. “She doesn’t even die as far as anyone knows! Greek mythology is known for its love of horrible and dramatic deaths, yet of all of the myths she shows up in, never once does it mention her eventually dying, even of old age! Sounds like someone else we know, doesn’t it?”

He paused for a moment, as if expecting a reply. Of course, there was none.

“Now Jason, Jason, on the other hand, we see something interesting. You see, he loses his favor with the gods, specifically his patron Hera, because he was trying to marry another woman even though he was already married to Medea and had two children with her. Can you imagine your patron goddess being the lord of marriage and family, and then you trying to marry another woman? The balls on that man, I’m telling you. The point is, none of his heroic deeds mattered in the end. He lost favor with the gods, lost his wife and children, and ended up dying alone, crushed under the weight of the Argo. The only thing left to immortalize his heroism ended up being the cause of his death.”

Quackity suddenly paused. His words echoed in the casino around him. No longer was he pacing. Instead, he stared long into the distance, as if he could see something through the thick walls. The weight around his neck was nearly unbearable. When he spoke again, it was just above a whisper.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is you are an awful lot like Medea. Doing horrible things left and right with the gods still choosing to favor you, still getting a happy ending despite all the pain and grief you’ve caused. But…” he trailed off, looking back at the poster. It may have been his imagination, but Technoblade’s eyes seemed less mocking, somehow.

“I have hope. Maybe you’re not Medea. Maybe, just maybe, you’re Jason. You’ll do something so terrible that you’ll lose your favor with the gods, lose everything that ever mattered, and you’ll be crushed under the weight of what once proved your worth.” Quackity walked forward, reaching out his hand. His fingertips stopped less than an inch from the surface of the poster, just hovering. Waiting. Contemplating.

“But I can’t wait for that to happen. I can’t wait for the universe to finally decide you’ve lost its favor.”

He dropped his hand. “You once said something, Technoblade. You said: treat others as they have treated you. That was your excuse for everything you’ve done. I tried to enact that saying once before, and I lost a life because of it. This time around…”

Quackity finally snatched the poster from the place on the wall, rattling the glass in the process. He refused to acknowledge that there was the finest tremble in his hands, making the poster shake.

“Well, the universe already made me the villain of this story. Might as well act like one.”

Quackity ripped the poster to shreds, piece by piece, one of the last remaining pieces of L’Manburg destroyed at his hands. Soon it was so shredded that it was unrecognizable, a pile of paper falling softly to his feet. When it was gone, it felt like pressure was relieved from Quackity’s shoulders. For the first time in a long while, he smiled genuinely.

He walked out of the casino, leaving the pile there for another day. He was sure Slime would clean it up without much fuss.

And if the weight around his neck grew to be nearly unbearable-- well, that was no one's knowledge but his own.

[oreoambitions]

Supercorp #17? 💝

Things you said that I wish you hadn’t:

Kara comes to Lena's office balcony just a little before midnight smelling of smoke and gunpowder and clutching a paper bag. She taps on the glass door, holds up the bag, smiles brighter than the sun. Lena doesn't have to remember to hoist a smile onto her own face because Kara has always been able to coax one out of her, even on the worst of days. And this is the worst of days, though Kara doesn't know it yet. Would that she were a little less predictable, a little more difficult to manipulate. Would that she cared a little less for Lena.

Well, what's done is done. Lena crosses to the door to let Kara in, struggling to school her features into something neutral, struggling to control her racing heart.

"Supergirl," Lena says. Her smile broadens of its own accord as Kara flushes. She always flushes when Lena calls her Supergirl these days, flushes and fidgets, the uncertainty between them a wound that has been slow to mend since Kara finally let her secret spill. Still, Lena loves the way her cheeks redden, loves the way strong hands suddenly fumble, feels for a moment a different kind of powerful as Earth's greatest hero flusters under her steady gaze.

"I saw your office light on," Kara says by way of explanation. She offers the bag. "I brought pasta. It has, uhm, there are vegetables in it. For you. Not in mine though. I- Anyway, would you like to have dinner?"

Lena raises an eyebrow. "With you?"

Kara stumbles over her tongue. "Uhm, you don't- That is, if you don't want-"

Lena laughs. "I always want to have dinner with you, Kara. This is very sweet; thank you."

Kara beams. She steals glances at Lena all through setting out the food, always with that soft smile, always with those searching eyes, and Lena wishes for the hundred thousandth time that she could just kiss her. Just... kiss that stupid puppy dog look off of her face, push her up against the wall, and give her something to really get flustered about. Christ. Add that to the list of thoughts that won't keep her heartrate down.

"Voila," Kara says. "One late night dinner for my favorite late night workaholic."

"Not exactly an early night for you either," Lena retorts as she joins Kara on the couch. "National City keeping you busy?"

Kara shrugs. "I was in Metropolis tonight, actually. Just checking in. Clark is on Argo until the twins are born, so."

Lena doesn't think she's ever going to get used to Kara casually mentioning that she was on the other side of the country a minute ago like that's not a big deal. She doesn't think she'll ever get used to Kara talking about Argo, either, about the still-living remnant of the world she left behind. Lena shifts a little in her seat, eyes the edge of the coffee table where the bug is hidden, wonders if Kara has noticed it. Maybe there's another way to end this. Maybe...

"What about you?" Lena says, bringing every inch of her Luthor upbringing to bear as she forces herself to maintain a conversational tone. "Have you ever thought about going home?"

Kara shovels a forkful of lasagna in her mouth and looks away. For a moment Lena thinks she isn't going to answer, and then she says, "Yeah, I've thought about it. I miss Krypton. I miss Argo City, I miss- Mm." She turns back to Lena. "Earth wasn't always an easy place to love."

Come on, Lena urges silently. Say you should go home. Say you're considering it.

"I used to wish I'd never come here. Before Argo, I used to wish I'd died on Krypton." She makes a face. "And then I'd feel guilty about it. What an ungrateful thought, you know? But my people spared me so that I could protect Kal - protect Clark - and I failed before I even got here, and then I was such a burden on the Danvers at first, and I- I shouldn't be unloading on you like this, I'm sorry."

Lena reaches out, catches herself, pulls back. "I asked," she says gently. "It's okay."

Kara's eyes flicker back and forth between Lena's, and then there's that soft flush across her cheeks again and that sunshine-bright smile. "There's a lot to love about Earth," Kara says. She gestures with her fork. "Pasta. Potstickers! Summer storms. The mountains, Rao, Earth has such beautiful mountains. And I love my family. Obviously Alex and Eliza, but James, and Winn, J'onn, even Ms. Grant. The people back in Midvale. I always cared about Earth, I mean how could you not? What a beautiful world. Beautiful people. But for a long time it wasn't enough. I missed Krpyton too much to really love this place the way it deserved."

"Missed? Past tense?" Lena glances at the bug again, but Kara doesn't follow her gaze. She's too busy nibbling on her bottom lip and then she swallows hard looks down at her hands, fiddles with her fork.

"I still miss Krypton, but I- Rao." Kara's hands are trembling, and her voice with them. "But then I met you." She steals a glance up at Lena's face only to look away again, cheeks burning. "And then I got to know you and I- I lost my whole world and then when I found you it felt like I'd found a new one. The day I met you. That was the first time I loved Earth more than I missed Krpyton. I could never go back; this is home now. You're my home now."

Lena's hands are trembling too. She clasps them together and swallows hard, willing the tears down, willing her heart to stop racing, willing the butterflies in her stomach to stop stop stop not now. Not now. This is more than Lena ever dared imagine Kara might say to her, even in her sweetest dreams. This is too much and much too late. This is Lena's heart breaking because it's the wrong time and the wrong place and she wants to warn Kara that Lex can hear every word, that he'll never let her go now that he knows how she feels about Lena, that all Lena desperately needs Kara to say is that she doesn't love her and that she'll go to Argo and never come back please say it, and-

"Lena?" Kara reaches out with gentle fingers and brushes a lone tear from Lena's cheek. "Please say something."

Lena swallows again. "I had no idea I meant so much to you," she says, choking out a laugh.

Anguish flickers across Kara's face. "I'm sorry. I should have- I wish I could have told you sooner."

Lena doesn't look now at the bug through which Lex is listening. She looks only at Kara, at those deep blue eyes, the soft spray of freckles like stars across her cheek, those perfect pink lips parted just so as she studies Lena intently, seeking forgiveness or answers or reciprocation. The kryptonite dagger hidden in Lena’s sleeve feels too heavy and too cold against her skin as she whispers, "I wish you'd never told me at all."

///

Thank you for the ask! Sorry this is late; I fell asleep working on these last night :) 

[urmomsstuntdouble]

Can you do one for america

Since I received this about an hour or two after posting my lithuania analysis, I assume you’re asking for an america character analysis. I was debating whether or not to go through with writing this or not for a while, but i’ve decided that I’ll try. I hope you enjoy it!

Idealism

The first thing that sticks out to me when thinking about america is that he’s super idealistic, and I think this has its roots in his birth. Everything in his life has been about hope and being better than others, even down to the decision to colonise north america. England needs to be the most powerful country in europe. Better set up a colony in america so that it can save us. It’s that sort of logic that i think gives america the idea that he needs to be perfect, or that he can be the ideal person. And though a lot of what we consider to be the “american” identity (intense patriotism, nativism, idealism, etc) took recognizable shape in the 19th century, i think this way of thinking was nothing new to alfred. He’d been raised on it, with the desire to please arthur sort of in his blood? Anyway i feel like the idea that the colonies would be so so prosperous really put the idea into america’s head early on that he was perfect and that he was destined to be such a great person, even if that wasn't true. I often see his daddy issues presented as solely abandonment issues, but my interpretation of america is more of a combination of abandonment issues and the pressure, some of it self inflicted, to be a perfect country. Basically, his idealism is deeply rooted in unhealthy places. 

Also, a religion headcanon i have is that while he was more raised to be a puritan, freddie prefers quakerism. Though he’s not the most compatible with quakerism, as it rejects violence and quakers often refer to themselves as the society of friends, and are very welcoming, i think it gives him some hope. One of freddie’s biggest problems is that he wants people to be better than they are, and quakerism helps a little with that, because it’s a way that he can help himself become better than he currently is. I feel like he’s been a quaker for a very long time, so he’s not a very good quaker, but this is still something that’s very important to him. 

Hero complex and other mental bullshit

America having a hero complex and also being physically 19 is something i think really highly of. First of all, it very much fits with the mythology of america being a sort of world savior. Secondly, a lot of american media focuses on heroism, whether its on the behalf of average people, like the hunger games, or on the behalf of superheroes, like the mcu- especially over the past 20 years. Though i think it’s a good thing to promote heroism, the hero-martyr complex that gen z has is. Oof. And i think alfred fits very well into that toxic sort of “heroism” that most gen z kids have. He thinks he’s somehow able to fix everything wrong with the world, just because he really wants to. Though that desire is genuine, it’s not always something that’s his place to fix or something that even needed fixing. There’s also a selfish component to that- He needs to prove himself, and heroism is the only way he thinks he can do that. It’s why he works out constantly and cares so much, on a personal rather than country-avatar-thing level, about being #1 at everything. He has to be better than everyone else because he has to be the perfect hero. 

I also think it’s interesting how america seems to have more pronounced daddy issues than canada, and i think this is something that harkens back to the 13 colonies (side note i hate the term ‘colonial times’ when referring to the time before the revolutionary war or canadian independence. These are settler states, its always colonial times.) and american independence. Canada sort of only exists because of british loyalists, as they made up the majority of the population around the turn of the 19th century. They saw themselves as being The Better Colonists. Real daddy’s boy types, and I think this is something that contributes to the hero complex. Because matthew refused to rebel so openly, that made arthur favor him as a son, so alfred felt the need to be even better than matthew- even though, of course, alfred was a bit more favored. 

Fighting Style

Freddie is very good at violence, but not in the same way that a lot of other nations are. Where they tend to be more well trained in specific styles of fighting, freddie just sort of has all of them? His mind is very crowded, i think. Also, the way that he would have learned to fight is different from the other super powerful countries by virtue of his youth, and by virtue of the different regional fighting styles in america. One that’s haunted me is a trend in the ability to rip off ears and noses- Particularly by white gangs in the antebellum south, this was seen as being like. A real badass. I think alfred was something of a feral child. If you know the saying “it takes a village to raise a child,” i think it really did with him. He had so many parents, just like a lot of the western hemisphere countries. But anyway because of all his many many parents, there was never any strong parental force in his life, so it’s more like he didn’t have any at all, and because of that, alfred was a very strange child. And because violence is so ingrained in american society, alfred is very good at fighting, both in order to be fun and flashy and for his own self defense. Though he doesn't really like to fight unless he feels like he has to (and other people are very good at convincing him that he does have to)

Sports

Though america is definitely super athletic and could probably naturally be good at most sports, i think there’s a few that he’d more gravitate towards. Those are basketball, track and field, and olympic lifting. I would include american football but it’s a stupid sport that doesn’t make any sense, so it will not be included for spite reasons. In basketball I think he’s sort of an every-man. I think he’s around six feet tall, so he really could play any position on offense, and as for defense, I think he’d play his best defense against the point guard, bc i feel like Alfred is really fast and good at getting up in your face. He’d have a ton of steals whenever defending against the point guard. I think he’d be a good center on offense, because he’s a bit aggressive and that would be useful for getting rebounds and put-backs, though i wouldn’t discount point-guard freddie, because he does like to be very inspiring. He’s pretty energetic as well, and a point guard can really carry the entire team in terms of energy and spirit. As for track and field, he’d also be an every man- I feel like he’d gravitate more towards sprinting events by personality, but his coach would stick him in wherever. Where olympic lifts are concerned, he’s absolutely a snatch specialist. 

Empire and contradictions

America is an empire. No way of getting around that. I think imperialism in hetalia is an interesting subject, especially where america is concerned. @mysticalmusicwhispers did a good job running that down here, but basically my thoughts on the matter are that alfred doesn't really like being an empire. There’s many angles to that. It’s lonely at the top, for one. There’s no one who relates to being a 21st century empire in quite the same way as him. Then you have the fact that a lot of people living in america have suffered under imperialism as well. Because of that, there’s a lot of self hatred and anxiety and a not knowing if he can fully trust himself. Theres also the obsession that many americans have with people from other cultures being able to assimilate to american wasp culture. Because of all the people who live in the states who are very much not wasps and who can never be, it’s really hard on alfred, though he refuses to admit that things are anything but fine. 

Extras/Fun stuff

A book that reminds me of him is The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien. It’s a collection of short stories about O’Brien’s time serving in the military during the Vietnam War. It’s a very haunting book and I think about it at least once a week, but it is very violent and there’s a lot of fucked up stuff in it.

giveme chubby alfred or give me death

i feel like this shouldn’t have to be said, but sometimes there’s people who depict him as being pro-trump or pro-right wing bullshit, which. absolutely not. just because of all the political turmoil that exists within alfred, and because of all the pain he goes through because of all the hate that exists within his borders- hate that the entire world is forced to pay attention to. even though he might not have all the best sympathies or motivations, he’s just so tired of all the pain he personally goes through because of domestic political unrest, and would like it to end in the way that’s the least painful for him as a person. 

Bi king of my heart 

not a natural blond

I hc him as being mixed, though i’m not sure what exactly he’d look like? But i do enjoy alfred but not white, as poc are the driving force behind a lot of american life, right down to the languages we speak. Like. something like half the states names are the words of their indigenous peoples, and even more toponyms are indigenous across the country. Then of course i feel he’s very protective of aave and will always pronounce words in Not English correctly. (if u want to hear more about my language thoughts they’re linked below. Not gonna rehash it here cause those posts are Long™) 

My playlist for him!

Other analyses (age, linguistics) 

writing requests

[narcisocacoplex]

Ascendance of a Bookworm and the Multiversal Marketplace of Ideas

Something that fucking stuns me about contemporary isekai as a genre is the way that it handles cultural transmission from one world to another. There’s a very consistent formula (as with all things in standard-issue isekai), and it all hinges on this fascinating system for deciding what gets to filter in from Earth through the protagonist and what is handily discarded when it would become an obstruction.

Consumer goods and services penetrate through the protagonist into the fantasy setting most easily. The single most consistent thing that isekai heroes reinvent in their otherworlds is cuisine. Almost universally contemporary Earth cooking, whether it’s Japanese, Chinese, or Italian (it is very rarely anything else), outperforms anything the locals produce, if only out of sheer novelty.

This sort of thing often forms the basis for the isekai protagonist’s horizontal monopoly—I’ve lost track of how many of these books I’ve read where an overwhelming portion of the plot is dedicated to the hero managing human and material resources as their multiple intersecting businesses proliferate like a cancer across the setting. It turns out that more than being a world savior, isekai readers fantasize most about being an entrepreneur living for the grind—albeit freed from the trouble of having to come up with your own ideas, as you can just re-hash the achievements of thousands of years of human endeavor instead and take the credit. Call it the McFly approach.

What’s peculiar is that less tangible and/or economically exploitable things don’t penetrate or are actively stripped away in the transition from life on Earth to life in the fantasy world. The most obvious point that comes to mind has to do with basic political and ethical conceits like the right to the most basic forms of self-determination. Isekai protagonists are indescribably quick to roll over for and get cozy with flavors of aristocracy and totalitarian power that the global public has been consistently taught not to trust.

Consider, for example, Ascendance of a Bookworm. I’ve lost track of how many people I’ve seen argue that Bookworm’s one of the standout isekai titles, and I can see why: it’s extremely committed to realizing an in-depth fantasy setting that’s not neatly explained with Dragon Quest allusions; the protagonist has an interesting array of flaws and limitations; in spite of the level of power on which the characters operate, it consistently creates convincing scenes of tension and peril in multiple dimensions; and the story is driven by a legitimate interest in something larger than the narratives the author has already consumed. This much is all great.

But the thing that strikes me about Ascendance of a Bookworm—the thing that keeps me from liking it at all—is that all of this craft and effort is sunk into a narrative about how there is no escape from serfdom. Myne starts at the absolute bottom rung of society, and through a conjunction of hideous self-neglect, total accident, cosmological convergence, and internecine political infighting, arrives at a position of frighteningly far-reaching authority. As Rozemyne, the archduke’s adopted daughter, she makes decisions every damn page about how her vast entourage will spend their lives in service to her agendas. Huge swathes of these books are just characters talking about how they’re going to move around various subordinates and, critically, which subordinates can be put in positions where lives won’t be at risk because of a failure to communicate across inviolable class boundaries.

While Rozemyne frequently shoots herself in the foot because she still takes as a given from time to time that people deserve to be treated like human beings and not disposable chattel, it’s never really up for consideration whether any of the societal structures that create this profound alienation should, perhaps, be changed.

And it’s not like dramatic social change isn’t a subject the story explores! Rozemyne’s whole objective in this story is to establish a thriving printing industry and universal literacy so she can go back to the standard of living she was used to as a Japanese bibliophile. She’s radically altering the cultural and industrial landscape of this other reality; it’s just that she’s not interested in changing the parts where, if you’re an aristocrat, people will act weird if you don’t murder peasants that look at you funny.

It ends up feeling kind of sinister, like the narrative is trying to convince you in slow, small steps that hey, maybe the problem here really is with Rozemyne not being willing to walk all over people as much as she could given the latitude afforded her (it’s worth noting that in many regards it’s the only latitude she’s got; the nobility are just as bound by bizarre, self-destructive social contracts as every other social class—it’s just that they can take it out on the people beneath them), and she’s already buying orphans in bulk from the church to staff her printing operation.

This is not helped by the most persistent fantasy elements of the setting. “Mana” in Bookworm is, on its face, a fantastical gloss made to legitimize the divine right of kings and the great chain of being. People have limited but varying capacity for mana, which is both trainable and heritable; the people bred for high mana capacity rule the country because their expanded mana reserves let them pump blessings into the surrounding environment, improving crop yields. Literally every noble is a miniature Fisher King, and when nobles withdraw their support from whatever fiefdom’s getting shafted, it withers and the people who live there suffer. This may be cruel, Rozemyne opines, but It Must Be Done to remind people how order is kept, however much she may not like it. Human survival in this setting hinges on the nobility’s generosity with their mana, and if there’s another option, it’s not really up for consideration.

I think periodically about how, as dense and thoroughly realized as this setting is, there’s really only one “nation” that I’ve seen so far in this series. There are rival fiefdoms, internal struggles, and cultural variations from region to region, but nobody’s really “foreign.” Everyone speaks the same language and follows the same broad set of customs. I wonder, when these thoughts come to me, how someone from a different nation in the same world might think of the culture represented in Ascendance of a Bookworm, and the thing I keep circling back to is “oh, those are the people who can’t do without owning other people.”

Part of the thematic messaging of this series, however inadvertent it may be, is how quickly a contemporary Japanese person adjusts to these expectations, even if they might make an effort to be as lenient as possible in most cases.

But pasta and hardbound books—those our hero will fight tooth and nail to introduce to this world.