#The very understandable insult and sense of wrongness that comes from seeing a machine do a task

[panvani]

The specific type of person where they're reasonably likeable but you can still tell they get all their opinions from people on Tumblr

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I noticed requests were open, so maybe you could write the reader being in Audrey’s place and telling the ink demon he’s not a monster and afterwards he protects the reader from anyone that tries to attack them. Have a good day!

"You have nothing. You're without purpose. Your very existence...was a terrible lie. You're a mistake, a monster....like me. But I will make you-"

“Who says you’re a monster?”

The Ink Demon was silent as he stared down at you, at first feeling insulted that you dared interrupt him. He was still seething from the abomination that tried to usurp him as ruler..he could easily crush you in one fell swoop.

Yet you didn’t seem afraid of him anymore. 

He couldn’t sense the fear you had back when you were hiding away in broken barrels and Miracle Stations.

No...despite being absolutely helpless--with your lower legs severed and your inky body weakening--you managed to smile at him, the beast who stalked you nonstop.

“I know this sounds ironic, coming from my scumbag of a father, but...he told me those born of darkness don’t necessarily belong to it. That doesn’t mean you have to be a monster. I never thought you were, Bendy.”

He gnashed his teeth together, growling lowly.

Just thinking of that man was enough to make his nonexistent blood boil. 

“That’s what the old fool called me..day in and day out.” He snarled. “He tried to fix me, but the Machine chewed me up and spat me out the same way....every time. I was never going to be perfect. He called me a foul thing..a monster..had me caged like a dog. Shame you couldn’t convince him otherwise..”

"I know I couldn’t, and I’m sorry.” You frowned. “Listen..I know what the Keepers have done to you. They’re basically doing what he tried to do...only worse.”

“...oh yes..they thought they could control me. But with Wilson gone..”

“He’s a martyr to them now. And they’re gonna hunt you down again..they’ll never stop until they capture you. They’ll kill me over and over again if that’s what it takes. Trust me..I know..” Remember how many times you’ve accidentally stepped in a Keeper’s spotlight, you shuddered a bit. 

“Then..we will combine forces to destroy them.” The Ink Demon extended his hand, attempting to present his offer from before. “Let us-”

“I’d have to refuse..because what if we’re caught between those again? We’ll both be screwed.” You gestured to the broken signal towers all around you. “But I could help you find the Keepers’ weakness..and maybe build something strong enough to take them on. This lousy pipe just won’t do.”

Silent, he looked to the half-charged Gent pipe in your hand, slowly realizing the valid points you made in your argument. 

As much as he despised being wrong and being told “no”, especially by a half-human....you were smart.

“That is true....then so be it. You’ll help me eliminate them. But what do you want out of this?”

“Well I..would like my legs back.” You awkwardly requested. “And a way to go home, maybe.”

After some internal debating, he decided that it wasn’t your time to join the dark puddles yet. There was still much work to be done--those Keepers couldn’t be allowed to continue their operations.

Not when you were the key to stopping them.

“Very well, I will heal you. But this alliance is only temporary. You’ll know your place is within the puddles very soon..”

“Yeah, yeah...thank you, Bendy.” You gazed up at him, a hopeful smile on your face. “You know, I never stopped seeing good in you.”

He said nothing to that, although he did look surprised to be thanked for once, considering the amount of times he tried killing you throughout the studio. 

He didn’t understand why you wanted to help him or even denied the fact he was a monster. 

Nevertheless, he complied with your request. You watched the rest of your legs become submerged in the ink for a few seconds, before the large puddle receded--restoring them both as if nothing ever happened.

As you sat up, you were nearly tackled back down to the floor by a small unseen force. You then blinked upon recognizing the small curled devil horns against your chest, ink melting away to reveal Bendy in his smaller form.

He was hugging you tightly, sniffling and trembling.

“Awh, it’s alright bud.” Smiling, you held him tightly, glad that he realized you weren’t like your father at all. You didn’t think of him any differently--not even after seeing that the two were the same.

He learned your heart was good and kind, both inside and outside this world.

Letting you go, he helped you stand up. It was tricky considering he couldn’t touch your hand with the glowing spiral without feeling pain, but he managed.

You got used to your new legs and sighed. “Wow. Regenerative ink, huh? Impressive. Well, we should go before-”

“WILSON!!”

“Wilson is dead?!”

“Wilson gave us purpose!!”

“THEY MURDERED HIM!!”

Hearing shouts coming from outside the lab, you froze in terror, realizing that hostile Lost Ones were coming for you both. Bendy panicked, immediately turning back into his demon form before sprinting to the pool of ink below the machine and diving into it.

You looked over your shoulder, confused and annoyed that he left you alone all of the sudden.

Was he really going to leave you to face them on your own?

‘Ah great..well, let’s see how many I can take on with a half-charged pipe..’ Readying your weapon, you prepared for the swarm of angry inky people about to barge in-

Then suddenly you heard a bellow from behind and saw Bendy reemerge from the pool looking different.

Now he was a hulking beast of ink, with a full set of large sharp teeth and muscular limbs--no longer skeletal like he was before. 

He scooped you up with one hand, setting you on his back. “I need you alive..I’ll handle them. They are fools to stand in the face of a creature like me..”

“Yeah, they’re in for a world of hurt.” With a chuckle, you gripped one of his sharp spines, looking over his horns to see the Lost Ones rush inside the room. They had sharp weaponry, vibrant colors swirling within their bodies. 

“Say Bendy...what do you think of that rainbow ink?”

“...I hate it.”

“Me, too.”

With a loud roar, the Ink Demon charged forth to reduce them all to stains in the ground, with none of them standing a chance against his might.

You just held on for dear life and enjoyed the ride.

[cactusnymph]

I'd love to see hand holding #33 with Shadowheart/Lae'zel, where Shad is out of magic and Lae'zel is bandaging Shad's hand?

"Tsk'va, hold still!", Lae'zel snarls while Shadowheart does her best to bring as much distance between the two of them as possible while Lae'zel for some godforsaken reason tries bandaging her hand. This is ridiculous. This is absolutely not who they are. They fight, they insult each other, exchange threats and jabs until someone else has enough of their bickering and tells them to shut up or forcefully separates them to different sides in the camp.

And gods, Lae'zel is bad at this.

Her clawed fingers are rough and calloused and her movements jerky as she cleans the gushing wound on Shadowheart's hand with the expression of someone who's thinking about where to cut a deer carcass to grill it later.

This is a person who is a trained killing machine and knows nothing of healing and stitching things back up. And yet.

And yet here Lae'zel is, her face scrunched up in frustration, her eyes sharp as she stares down at the wound that simply won't stop bleeding.

"Why are you even doing this", Shadowheart asks, her voice as flippant as possible. She feels a little dizzy from blood loss already and whenever she has no magic left she feels terrible drained and heavy. "Don't your people just kill children when they're not good enough at holding a sword?"

Lae'zel stares at her with obvious disdain before she spits on the ground next to Shadowheart. Then she goes back to her bloody work.

"My Queen has betrayed me and all I have learned since I was a hatchling has been a lie. You make people whole again every day. No one here is disposable. I have learned this from my travels. Now shut up and let me work."

Shadowheart is stunned into silence. No witty jab comes to her as she watches Lae'zel clumsily work her way through bandaging the wound. It looks absolutely atrocious and Shadowheart is sure that it'll bleed through quickly, but there's a lump in her throat that prevents her from speaking.

Lae'zel holds up Shadowheart's bandaged hand to look at it from every angle. She curses quietly in a language Shadowheart doesn't understand and looks terribly displeased with the results of her labor.

Shadowheart can't unsee the fact that Lae'zel is still holding onto her hand even though the bandage is done, no matter how badly. She swallows and looks away from Lae'zel's stupid face.

"I can show you", she finally says, intent on making her voice sound as impassive as possible. Lae'zel narrows her eyes at her.

"Show me what", she asks.

Shadowheart thinks that she must be mad, but aren't they the same, in a way? Both having lived a lie for so long, now trying to unlearn all of it?

She clears her throat and points at the bandage.

"How to make a decent bandage. How to patch people up. If you don't think that would be a waste of your precious time."

Lae'zel glares at her, but she doesn't immediately refuse and after what feels like a lifetime she finally lets go of Shadowheart's hand. This is probably a bad idea. A very bad idea. But Lae'zel has surprised her more than once during those past few weeks after the revelations at the Creche and Shadowheart... Shadowheart might be a little impressed with how hard Lae'zel works to change. Maybe she wants to keep up. She doesn't want to be left behind, doesn't want to lose against someone like Lae'zel.

She can basically hear Wyll's voice saying that this is not a competition but Shadowheart has to pretend that it is to stay sane when she looks at Lae'zel and feels her skin go up in flames and her heart stumble. This is the only way for her to chase Lae'zel and make it make sense to herself.

"Fine. You will show me the ways of this. Patchwork", Lae'zel commands, turning her nose up. Her wrong use of the word patchwork makes Shadowheart snort out a laugh and she giggles into the hand covered in an already bled through bandage.

"What?", Lae'zel hisses.

"You can just call it medicine, you know. Or first aid."

Lae'zel rolls her eyes.

"It doesn't matter. I will come to you later. Now you sleep."

And without another word she gets up and stalks away, leaving Shadowheart behind.

feel free to send me more of these<3

[psychic-refugee]

Wenvier Bingo - Hospital

Wednesday was already on the edge of sending someone to the Jericho Memorial Hospital, Weems was pushing her luck by assigning her to play her cello, without even the courtesy of allowing her to practice, at Outreach Day with the Jericho High Pep Band.

The Amazonian woman added insult to injury when she was assigned to read to sick patients at the hospital.

Wednesday didn’t quite understand the insult until she got there, and she was assigned to the coma ward.

It was bad enough that people were myopic, small-minded idiots who would cross the street rather than pass her by. Now they thought she was so ill-fit for human interaction that they wanted her to read to people who weren’t conscious.

There was a macabre sense of hopelessness to the coma ward, she had to admit and felt more at ease there than at Nevermore.

It was as quiet as the morgue with the exception of the beeps and whirls of machines that kept the patients alive. She walked deftly through the hall, her hard shoes against the linoleum almost echoing as very few inhabited the ward, even fewer visited.

She was surprised to see her roommate’s crush sitting next to the bed of a boy their age, hooked up to IV lines and looked so pale he was almost an Addams. Ajax was quietly speaking to the boy, perhaps hoping some part of him could hear him.

Wednesday looked down at her assignment and at the name on the chart.

Xavier Thorpe

She thought the name seemed familiar, but it eluded her where she had heard it.

She was in the right room, what was Ajax doing there?

“Did they double assign us to the same patient?” she asked quietly when Ajax didn’t notice her standing there.

He almost jumped, surprised that someone would come as he was the only one that visited Xavier.

“No…I…I just come by whenever I get the chance to come to town,” he stood up and stuttered to her, slightly afraid of the new girl who had a reputation before she stepped foot in Jericho and only got worse as time went on.

She chose to ignore that he stood protectively between the bedridden and herself, she almost rolled her eyes at his fear.

What challenge or point would it be to attack someone in a coma?

“What happened to him?” she recognized him from a memorial table set up at Nevermore in the foyer once she got closer and could see his face. It was one of the first things she saw when she first stepped foot into Nevermore. A photo of Xavier surrounded by flowers and candles.

Her loquacious roommate had spoken too fast for her to take in what happened, but she had guessed he had died, but apparently, she was wrong.

“He was found severely beaten last Outreach day…he hasn’t woken up in a year.”

Unfortunately, attacks on Outcasts were not that uncommon across the States. She was a little surprised, however, that it had happened so close to the school.

“What happened to the attackers?” she was hoping to hear a rather bloody revenge story.

She was disappointed.

“They were never found,” it was the first time Wednesday had seen the normally calm and flighty Gorgon actually sound angry.

“Everyone knows who did it, but he was found alone and all the boys were each other’s alibis,” He explained when she raised a questioning eyebrow. “It doesn’t help that one of them is the son of the mayor and another is the son of the sheriff.”

Wednesday understood perfectly what happened. Although it was not revealed in her face or demeanor, she loathed bullies and was particularly in a rage that such a heinous attack had occurred with no repercussions.

“He’s my best friend,” he said, almost shrinking into himself. “I just…hate to see him like this…I hate that he’s been hurt.”

She could tell he was all but begging her not to be another person to hurt his friend.

“I’m not the monster you all think I am,” she said coldly, and Ajax had flinched.

As he scurried away, she got herself comfortable and took out a book. It was her own novel, she figured she may as well read him something he definitely has never heard before.

She was a few chapters into the adventures of Viper de la Muerte, and she couldn’t help but notice his hands. There was a peripheral line placement in his hand, but otherwise he had strong, long fingers that she had an urge to touch.

She looked around and saw there was no one around and placed her own hand gently onto his.

An artist’s hands.

She literally had no other way of knowing that other than her own instinctual opinion.

Her gift of Sight kicked in and proved she was right.

She saw him standing in front of a wall with a freshly painted mural. He looked particularly proud of himself, as it was a gorgeous rendering of a raven in flight. It was probably meant to be an homage to the school, but she almost gasped as it was a raven she had seen in her dreams.

She swallowed hard and blinked rapidly when the vision version of Xavier looked her dead in the eye as if he could see her, which had never happened to her in a vision before.

Before he could say anything to her, four boys, two she recognized as the ones Ajax had mentioned, had brutally attacked him, and left him broken and bleeding. One of the cans of paint he had been using had been thrown at the mural, ruining all of Xavier’s hard work.

Wednesday was brought back to the hospital, and she had her proof of who attacked him.

Not that it would do me any good.

She had no doubt that her vision would be mocked and ignored. Weems would do nothing as she was the Normie’s lapdog, and from her own time in Normie High Schools, boys like Lucas and Tyler closed ranks when accused of abuse.

No, if she wanted justice for Xavier, she would have to do it herself.

She was good at getting revenge.

Weems was happy to hear that Wednesday wanted to continue to do her volunteer work at the hospital, so she was allowed to read to Xavier every weekend. She and Ajax switched off, and her care for his friend had warmed him to her.

If the sudden almost fatal injuries to the four he suspected had attacked his best friend, he didn’t say anything.

“Carter had an unfortunately fall down several flights of stairs…in a building with only two stories, it was odd,” she told him in a soothing cadence. The staff at the hospital thought she was still reading from a book, but instead she was telling him of her own fun adventures. “I believe the doctor had used the words ‘pulverized’ and ‘the worst open fractures’ they had ever seen. One of the nurse’s vomited when he was wheeled into the ER.”

Wednesday took the continuous beeping as a “job well done,” and continued on.

“Jonah…well, lets say some Normie’s just can’t hold their arsenic.”

“Lucas and Tyler are unfortunately well connected, and their fathers aren’t as incompetent as I would have hoped. They’re no longer in Jericho and probably put two and two together that someone is getting revenge. They can’t make accusations on Outcasts without putting attention on why someone would want revenge on them, so they’re keeping quiet of their suspicions. While they have power in this Podunk town, Addamses have the ultimate power, the true power in the States…money. I promise, no matter where they go, no matter where they try to hide, they’ll pay for what they did.”

She placed a gentle hand on his, hoping he could feel her sincerity. Part of her also hoped that he could feel the psychopathy and enjoyment she was getting out of this, and that it comforted him that his attackers were getting exactly what they deserved from the one person who could make all their nightmares come true.

Wednesday felt a bolt of warmth and electricity shoot through her body, as if she had been struck by lightning from a raging storm.

All the equipment in the room had buzzed and exploded, sparks filling the air like a star filled night. The lights went out and the room became hazy from the small electrical fires.

In the dimness, she could see Xavier move and for the first time in over a year, his beautiful green eyes opened.

There she was, the girl of his dreams. The Raven who guided him through the darkness and brought peace to his nightmares.

“Does Viper ever find who stole the body from the morgue?” was his first question, his voice raspy from disuse.

Wednesday almost blushed and gave a small smile, glad that he liked her story.

Card under cut

[dloveg]

Xu Si

+ Xu Si is the less exciting character between our two leads. yup, he is cool but he has less adversities stacked against him.

+ I am wondering what his arc would be

+ So here is a guy who seemed to have nothing but success in his life. because of this, he is convinced that his mindset is the right one.

+ one pov is that he simply does not prefer the stress of running a business (his mom was probably really stressed and was not around much while he was growing up), or, he just disregards the opinion of the elders that managing/growing a business yourself is a nobler endeavor than just financing developing businesses (these are all shared by his mom, jiang hu's dad and aunt yue). will the growth be in the form of acknowledging/appreciating the efforts of his mother by experiencing the hardships real time through jiang hu?

+ he says he wants to put value in inefficient companies - now there is nothing wrong with that in my opinion, so i cannot see where the growth would come from that

+ a more dramatic conflict could be between love and career. do you choose the managing director position over the future mother of your children? this does not fit the confucianist temper of c-dramas though so i dont see it playing out. as one of his co-investors said, career and family life are EQUALLY important

+ so maybe xu si's character development matches his personality. the weight is more cerebral than emotional, which is ok, but not dramatic

+ is it is his cold hearted computations? is the drama saying that efficiency does not come without compassion? that founders are not kpi machines and thus dealing with them requires some leniency and understanding? yup, this could be an arc, and even if it a serious one in the financial sector that runs the world, it does not make for a compelling character development

regarding this, this is currently the most obvious arc for him. he is shown to be very calculated, when his actions do not make sense on the surface, it is because he is actually serving a deeper (more nefarious) goal beneath. he is a guy with plans a-z with z actually being the real plan all along.

as set up, we have ex gf, who consistently tells audiences that xu si was ruthless with her when they were together, no softening of the blows, no excuses; rationality is the name of the game and the only acceptable result is profit

he was like this even with jiang hu in the beginning. was he insulted when she mistakes him for a junior secretary? no. he takes her money, buys a burger and plot to run her father's obsolete shoe factory to the ground.

and then we see him start to soften up. that's ok, he has a hidden agenda for teng yue anyway. but then we see him start to make contradict himself and make excuses. he told his boss he just needs a majority stake on teng yue, so why does he help jiang hu with operations? okay, maybe to increase teng yue's evaluation for a latter sale. xu si continues to manufacture justifications, to maintain an image of himself as a rational investor. what cannot be denied, is that delila has come for xu si's samson.

but can you see xu si, humanity is not separate from profits. they only separate when stakeholders refuse to be kind. value could be created both from viciousness and consideration.

anyway, but baoxing boss could see differently, right. a dollar today is greater than a dollar+ tomorrow and xu si could be forced to choose between keeping teng yue for jiang hu or keeping his career

+ he does serve a lot in the romance department though, so I'll stop complaining haha

[the-silentium]

Featuring a Dimwit

Masterlist

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader, Hunter x Reader, Crosshair x Reader

Words: 3236 words

Warnings: Mmmh. None. 

A/N: This series begins after the saga “After the Nightmares”. If you’re new, you might want to start with Good Night, Good Luck if you want to understand what’s going on.

Taglist: @clone-rambles  / @mandaloriandin / @apathetic-catastrophie / @jenstar1992-2 / @haloangel391 / @lightning-wolffe / @cherrydemon5 / @and-claudia / @lackofhonor / @gaymasonjar / @depthsreturn / @koskareevesismyqueen / @leonidas-banana-phone              

_________________

It had been going on for a bit less than a month. The back and forth of pranks between each and every male member of the Bad Batch, passing from moving around one's equipment up to tripping others or painting insults on an inattentive brother's backplate. 

No one ever admitted they did the prank and you often took the blame despite never participating when you couldn't contain your laughter and no one was able to back you up on your whereabouts of the day. It wasn't a bother to be the scapegoat for whoever really pulled the pranks- your best bet was on Wrecker, although some tricks had more of a Tech vibe, like the time Crosshair's modulator had such a high pitched tone that the civilians mistook him for a female- the pranks were overall pretty entertaining. When they weren't targeted at you, that is. 

You could have murdered the one who put Knytixes under your bedsheets. Thank the gods, you avoided jumping right onto the 6 crawling insects due to the light illuminating the barracks since you were the first one who headed to bed, although it didn't stop your hand from squashing one under your palm in inadvertence. The nearly empty room filled with clones in record time as your surprised scream resonated through the closed door and bounced between the ship's walls. Since no one took its responsibilities, you threatened everyone's masculinity and claimed a spot in Hunter's cot while Tech used jars to take away the remaining insects that Back-Up hadn't had time to eat. 

The intensity of the pranks dropped in the following days and none were meant for you, leading you to believe that the Batcher who hid the disgusting critters in your bed understood that he went too far or was too scared for his balls. 

Hunter was resting after a tiring morning of paperwork, Tech was fumbling on his datapad with this concentrated gaze that only he could have while reading endless oceans of information on whatever was his interest at the moment, Back-Up was lounging on his shoulder to absorb the warmth radiating from his blacks and Wrecker cheered you up as you competed against Crosshair on who could reach the top of the tree the fastest. 

"This needs to stop!" Hunter had barged out of the Marauder in a yell, quickly breaking your concentration 10 meters above the ground and only 2 away from your objective. 

The quick glance you allowed yourself to throw his way was a bad choice. The shock of seeing the right side of his face blackened out to mirror the tattoo on his left side caused you to grab the wrong tree limb, a smaller one that couldn't possibly sustain your weight and would have sent you flying down if only your right hand wasn't firmly wrapped around a thicker branch. 

Crosshair won the competition and you were dangling in the air by one hand, huffing in defeat. You knew he'd wear a victorious smirk for the remaining hours of the day, you had annoyed him so much about being a better climber in the hope to have a short playful time with him. It was frustrating to know that you were winning right before Hunter came in the picture and broke your focus. 

You may be a better climber, but Crosshair definitely was better at staying focussed on his task and ignoring each and every distraction. 

"Oh that's a good one!" Wrecker's laugh sent him knocking against the tree, the resulting vibrations threatening the reliability of your grip. If only you were wearing your fingerless gloves, the bark of the tree wouldn't bite your skin as much and you wouldn't be tempted to let go. "Don't know who thought of that but this is the best idea of the month!" 

"It wasn't me." Tech immediately added to dissipate any suspicions, not even bothering to look up from his datapad while doing so. 

"Not me either!" You shouted while reaching for the branch with your opposite hand and pulled yourself up to sit and give a break to the sensitive skin of your palms. "And I was with Cross the whole day." A grunt of approval resonated behind you, even though it was completely unnecessary and clearly didn't reach Hunter. Or maybe it did. 

The sniper took a seat next to you, one hand keeping his balance with a branch in its grip while the other kept you close by your waist. 

Once again, no one took its blame. You wondered if you should laugh about it or not. The guys- because it really never participated in these shenanigans and you were certain it wasn't Back-Up either- always managed to never leave clues and never get caught in the act and you were deeply admiring their skills. They weren't top commandos for nothing! 

"No. More." Was Hunter pissed? No. He was fuming. "Or next time we're on base I'll register everyone for a thorough medical exam." 

Oh the ultimate punishment was out. The prank war ultimately reached its end on a fine sunny afternoon as there was no way it could compete against a complete medical exam, the displeasure that came with the variety of tests surpassed by far the good laugh of pranking someone, and thus, you knew no trooper in this team would dare pull another trick. 

"C'mon Sarge. Not that."Wrecker was the first to complain about the consequences, quickly followed by Tech who stated that all your physical health were optimum. 

"Yes that, and I don't care if we're all at our top. The smallest of trick on anyone of this team will get all your asses in the medbay." He finished in a do not test me tone and returned inside the ship to scrub the ink off his face. 

The muscles pressed against your side were now rock hard, same as the grip slowly tightening around your waist. 

"Don't worry." A peck on his cheek was enough to take his mind off the needles and noisy machines. "No one will dare pull one if that's where it'll get us." The creases between his scrunched eyebrows relaxed with a small nod, knowing just like you that his brothers would not play with that fire. 

You would all be fine. 

______

"I'll kill the one who pulled this one." You fumed in the examination room, knee bouncing under your hand as you waited for the doctor to come back and dismiss you. 

The wait allowed you to think of a plan to finally know who was pulling those jokes and make them regret it. Multiple ideas grew in your mind, one for each member. The planning got interrupted momentarily by the clone who entered your room to inform you that you were in perfect health. Your tests were flawless just like your bloodwork and he couldn't see why your CO requested such a rigorous examination. 

"Someone pissed in his cereal." You jumped off the table and shrugged at the bewildered look on the man's face before taking off in the direction of the hangar. 

It wasn't nearly as drastic as someone peeing in a bowl, but it certainly was just as insulting. 

That last one was personal to the team and you couldn't get how a member of the Batch could do this. It just didn't make sense. Them who constantly fought against the snide remarks, disdainful gazes and harsh behavior, could not possibly have degraded themselves like that.

You quickly boarded the ship after successfully ignoring all the regs watching you speed walking to your destination. Hunter was there with the rest of the boys, watching the insignia over the door like the name of the culprit was written somewhere in it. 

You pushed the button to close the railing and keep this event private, before joining the silent half-circle of irritated men glaring at the paint tainting the wall and every so often glaring at the others in the room like they were the ones who did it. Well, one of them did. No one wanted to admit it. 

Clone Force 69 was painted in thick black letters right over the door for everyone inside to see. At least, the rest of the base didn't know. 

Who the hell would write that? That's what you expected from the regs, not from your own team. 

"Hope y'all appreciated the trip in the sterile field." The grumble on your right opened the door for a concert of groans. "Now the person who did this better say it now."

"But I told you it couldn't be any of us!" Arms open wide at his sides, Tech repeated exactly what he did before Hunter contacted the medbay to order four medical exams. "We all went to bed at the same time and all exited the barracks together. No one got up during the night!" 

You could testify for yourself and Hunter for that. Really, it was unfair that you had to endure the exam, but then it would have been unfair for the other Batchers. At least this time you weren't a suspect. 

"Apparently someone did because it did not write itself." 

"Even the calligraphy doesn't match anyone's!" He pointed out and proceeded to tell how the curves and spacing didn’t correspond to either himself, Wrecker, or Crosshair. 

You perked up at the new information. The calligraphy. It did not match any of the Batcher? But it was so familiar. How could you know these harsh cursive letters if it wasn't the clones'? You never saw anyone else's writing as they all used datapads around here. 

Clone Force 69. Why- it sounded familiar too. Something at the back of your mind bugged you. You knew that. 69. You used to laugh at these references all the time with him. Somehow, when you read it, it was his voice that rang out in your head.

"Guys." The word nearly didn't pass your mouth as the usual tightness in your throat manifested itself like every time you thought about him. "That's Kayden's style. It's his writing too." 

"Took you all long enough! Miss me motherfuckers?" The sight of the very same blue-eyed brunette who disappeared into your arms more than a year and a half ago, magically appearing out of thin air in the center of the room, arms open wide at his side like he was a big surprise froze every thought in your brain. 

Your breathing slowed down while your heart rate perked up, the thudding resonating all the way up your brain to rhythmically ram against the bone and raise the pressure in there. 

"Kayden?" Wrecker stood at the appearance of the newcomer, or ghost, or whatever he was. 

"What did you expect? Ya can't get rid of me that easily." He winked, not even meeting your gaze yet. 

"Wh-You guys seeing him too?!" They all nodded in silence, too stunned to manage anything more. Hunter's hand on your thigh that you hadn't noticed until now tightened at your inquiry.

He looked the same. Same Forsian clothes, same tousled hair with his persistent cowlick at the front, same sparkling energy, although your expert eyes saw through the facade as easily as ever and found some uneasiness. "How- your soul got- you died." 

It took you a month to overcome your denial and finally be able to say that he died and was not simply missing. He didn't just disappear, his soul disappeared. His soul got eaten by a pesky little brat. He had died back there, nearly half an hour before dawn. He died in your arms that night and every following night for three weeks and he couldn't be here. As much as you wanted him to be, he couldn't. 

"Yeah. I'd like to think that it was because whoever was assigned to me on the other side couldn't stand me, but I truly think it's because of your sad ass crying over our crest with the Core around." He shrugged when his eyes finally met yours. "And by the way, you're ugly as fuck when you cry." His diversion to hide his discomfort failed miserably. You saw him gulp as he took in the water filling your eyes. 

"I mourned you, you asshole!" The hand on your thigh wasn't enough to keep you in place. Getting up without a problem, you moved to your once closest friend and the one you considered your brother and punched his shoulder with all your might. You were pissed, but not enough to aim for his face. 

The lack of any concrete object colliding with your knuckles sent you tumbling through his body. It gave you a chill like you'd passed your hand through a mound of snow. The coldness vanished as soon as you completely exited his apparition, leaving goosebumps as the only proof of the momentaneous change of temperature. 

"Neat trick eh? Took me months to master it!" He beamed, truly enthusiastic about his new ability. His smile wavered once he took in your fury. "Okay, okay. Hit me again, I won't do it." He presented his cheek. 

You weren't falling for it again. Your ego was bruised, your feelings were crushed, your whole being was screaming in a mix of anger and relief. 

"Fuck you." He recoiled at your glare. "You were here the whole time, watching me cry over your fuck ass self and didn't say shit." This time, when your fingers poked his chest, they made contact and you noticed how warm he felt compared to the cold from mere moments ago when you passed through him. 

"I wasn't here the whole time." He shook his head to defend himself. "I woke up one day, I think it was a month after it all, and no one could see or hear me. Took me months to build up my strength to be able to move one of the toothpicks that are everywhere in this ship." 

A growl could be heard from behind Kayden who immediately changed something in himself so the toothpick thrown at him passed right through and bounced on your shirt. A click of his tongue and Crosshair was gone, preferring the comfort of his bed after a long visit to the medbay to listening to what the brunette had to say. 

"Wait! So all the pranks, it was you?" Wrecker approached the Forsian, an impressed glint in his eyes. He reached for Kayden's shoulder, surely to try out the feeling of touching a ghost that can actually dematerialize himself. Unfortunately for him, Kayden was now flesh and bones… or whatever he was.

"Needed to come back with style, my friend." He smirked and turned to admire his art tagging the wall. "That's a better team name, ain't it?" 

You used the fact that he was now a solid version of himself to slap the back of his head. It was with a small bit of pleasure that you noted that it felt the same. Even the yelp was exactly as you remembered. 

"You karking sent us to the medbay." Crosshair shot from the room clearly still pissed from his little trip. You felt compelled to go snuggle with him, even more because you had assured him that he wouldn't have to undergo a medical appointment. 

Your frustration towards your brother came back full force. Not only could he have shown himself weeks ago when the first prank started, but he dropped so much shit on all of you, from the long-lasting ink on Hunter's face, to Tech's burned hand when his live wires had been moved without him noticing, to the forced medical trip and let's not forget the bugs in your bed. 

It was a good thing that the sniper wasn't in the room as he would have been mad seeing Kayden trying to keep the smile off his face and failing miserably. "I didn't send you there. He did." He pointed at the Sergeant with a smug grin. "I was just being a nice little ghost."

"Nice? You call yourself nice?" You couldn't take more of his bullshit. If you stayed in the room another second, you'd lash out and it wouldn't be pretty. All the nasty words floating in your mind would hurt more than you really intended and you couldn't have that. Not when you could still hear the repressed sobs racking his body in your head. 

You walked away, tears gathering in your eyes, but you didn't care. Crosshair would hold you again and it'd be fine again. "Fucking Dimwit." 

"Thank you." He called with such seriousness that you stopped in your tracks. "For bringing me back." 

At that moment, water ran down your cheek and there was nothing you could do about it. You wanted to hold him tightly in your arms and pray that he wouldn't fade away this time. But you were scared. Scared he'd do just that. Fade away and leave you once again to try and piece yourself back again, with more missing pieces than you already have. 

You were lucky though. Clone force 99 was good at creating stuff with limited resources to accomplish impossible tasks. With their skills, time, patience, and different level of care, they filled some holes. However, some were still painfully empty and were too intricate to replace. 

"Don't thank me." You sighed, shoulder slumped, hand hovering over the button to open the door to the barracks. 

He frowned. "You can't really be mad at me." 

No, you couldn't. Not when he was back. And even less when he died for you in the first place. 

You shook your head, still watching the marks engraved in the door. "I'm not." 

"Then wh-" "Him." You cut Kayden off to point at Tech whose eyes were as wide as saucers and his body inching closer and closer to get a better look at him. 

"Stay away." Kayden jumped to the side, avoiding the engineer’s curious fingers as well as his scanner that somehow found its way into his possession. 

Still, the clone didn't give up and followed the Forsian wherever he backed-up. "But you can pass through things!" His first try at passing through Kayden was unsuccessful as he met flesh, just like Wrecker. 

"No. I'm not going to be penetrated by your fingers for science. It still feels weird." 

Tech, however, was quick to find a way to get what he wanted. A fist flew to Kayden's face, not too quick to let him time to see it coming, but with enough force to promise a black-eye if he didn't dodge it. If only there had been a wall behind him to stop him from jumping back and avoid the knuckles. 

"But do you get how useful this could be during a mission!" Tech tried again, but Kayden was prepared. 

"Yeah and ghosts can go poof!" He mimed explosions with his hands and disappeared into thin air just as Tech's fist was to make contact. Instead of hitting Kayden, his fist collided with the wall of the Marauder. 

You entered the barracks, Tech's hiss of pain filled the room and caused Crosshair to chuckle in amusement. 

"So we have a ghost now? Can we keep him like we kept Back-Up?" Wrecker asked excitedly. 

"Great. Just. Great." Hunter grumbled, a hand slowly moving down his face and the door closed behind you. 

[moved-danganronpamess]

I saw requests are open, so if it’s not to much to ask could I possibly request a gender neutral reader comforting sad ishimaru, gundham, sonia, and byakuya (dr1) in the game? I wish to cuddle and hug them—(also I LOVE YALLS WRITIN I WENT ON A SPREE READING THROUGH THE MASTERLIST ITS ALL V GOOD::33 ::DDDD)

Aww man! My first request, heehee!

I'm sure all the other mods appreciate your kudos! I hope it’s alright that I answered your ask despite being new, I just couldn’t resist! I wanna hug and cuddle these cuties too, they deserve it for all they’ve been through. I only wrote Ishimaru and Byakuya for now, I hope that’s alright! I’ll be sure to post Sonia and Gundham another time!  

I hope you enjoy it, my buttercup baby! <3

- 🌺💖Mod Rantaro💖🌺

gn!S/O comforting a sad Ishimaru and Byakuya during the killing game!

Kiyotaka Ishimaru

You and Taka were very close. From the start of this sick, horrible killing game you were forced to play, you two naturally gravitated towards eachother. You formed an extremely tight bond in a very short amount of time.

A bond tight enough to spend almost all of your free time together, sometimes in each other’s dorm rooms or around the school.

Y’all vibed hardcore-

But, with everything going on, Taka started to feel... A bit down.

The school... Wasn’t exactly a school. There were no teachers, no classes no schoolwork or homework. To most students, that would be heaven (if it weren’t for the fact everyone was trapped inside the school for the rest of their time), but for the Ultimate Moral Compass... It was almost torture.

Taka took a lot of pride in his hard work. The countless flawless grades and extra credit (that he didn’t even need, but got anyway), constant praise from his teachers and family for nothing but said work, it warped his sense of self-worth to the point that, if he wasn’t working or being successful, he didn’t matter.

And you took notice of that. You took notice of how he seemed to get more down with each passing day where he couldn’t study or show off his current knowledge.

And Taka started to get self-loathing thoughts about the whole situation. How he was useless, unworthy, or just a bother if he couldn’t work.

He knew this was unhealthy, but he kept it to himself for quite some time, until he couldn’t take having these thoughts anymore. He needed someone to talk to, and he knew you could help.

It was somewhere in the afternoon, around 6-7 PM, you couldn’t bother to look at the exact time. 

You heard a somewhat frantic knock at the door, and went to crack it open. Peeping through the opening, you noticed Taka’s tearful expression. 

You threw open the door, letting your friend inside, “Taka, what’s wrong?! Did something happen?!”, you panicked, closing the door after him.

Taka quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve, already feeling bad for making you worry over nothing.

“N-no, no! Nothing happened!”, he reassured you, and you let out a relieved sigh. But... What was wrong, then?

“Are you ok, Ishi?”, you grabbed your friend’s hand, leading him to your bed. You both sat down, as you laced your fingers with his, not planning to let go, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Taka ignored his quick heartbeat, as he told you about how he felt. His voice shook, and his vision was blurred with tears as he rambled about how useless he felt. If he couldn’t study, take tests or answer teachers’ questions, what was he even good for?

You pulled him into a hug, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. You debunked every bad word he said about himself, telling him how his talent and academic achievements didn’t define him as a person. He was a wonderful, caring friend who you were incredibly lucky to have, not some studying machine you expected to be the best at everything.

You knew how much he valued knowledge, so you suggested starting some new hobbies together like... Art, or chess, or sewing... Anything you could think of at the moment that would get you two to learn and expand your horizons.

Your touch and reassuring words comforted him... You were so considerate with your words and found a way to get him out of that low, low state so easily. You even wanted to try those hobbies with him! He never really felt so cared for. Your hand ran through his hair so delicately, he felt like he could melt. He never wanted to let go...

He was so lucky to have you.

 Byakuya Togami :

Byakuya was in the school library, as per usual. Reading a book about who-knows-what and trying to distract himself from the dark fog slowly forming in his head.

He was thinking about everything that was taken away from him. From his success and wealth, to his family’s Corporation, everything that he fought for and righteously owned... Gone. Probably forever.

It messed with him, it really did. He felt like all he went through to get to the top was worthless. That his years of fighting were wasted on nothing.

He tried to push these feelings away. Wallowing over the fact that he was trapped in Hope’s Peak until his damnation wouldn’t help his situation. He even tried to deny his sadness, and practically ran from his emotions, opting to distract himself instead. 

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard you call out his name. He loudly slammed his book shut, not even bothering to mark where he stopped at, then turned to your direction, coldly asking: “What do you want?”

Now, your relationship with Togami was strange. At least, from your perspective. He was self-centered, cold and difficult to talk to, but that’s part of the reason why he was so intriguing to you. You always tried to talk to him, even if he responded rudely to you every time. You noticed his very slight shift in nature when he interacted with you. He was still cold, yes, but it was almost toned down.

There was something about you that he found intriguing too. You always  had something to say to him, something to add, a comeback to an insult he may’ve thrown at you once or twice. He found you amusing, and certainly didn’t want to push you away.

You walked into the library, closing the door behind you, “I’m just here to check on you. You don’t have to be so sour about it.”

“I’m fine. Now leave, you’re distracting me.”, Byakuya tried to go back to his reading, planning to ignore you, but you proved that to be difficult by coming up to the desk, and sitting down on it.

Before Togami could tell you to move, you asked: “You doin’ ok? You seem sad.”

That... Took him aback. It was clear he didn’t expect your question.

He didn’t even know how to reply. Part of him wanted to talk to you, and the other just wanted to get you away from him. 

You hummed at his silence, then said, leaning over to rest your elbows on you knees, chin propped in your hands, “I can tell you how I’m feeling, if that would make you wanna talk about it.”

Byakuya sighed, “Fine, because I know you’ll keep bothering me about it if I don’t listen to you.”

You made him promise to talk about his own feelings btw it was an incredibly long, annoying and difficult process and he actually tried to leave the room several times but yOU CONVINCED HIM AND YOU DID IT GOOD JOB

Byakuya's superiority complex really said "no❤️"

And so, you rambled for a while. About how you felt, what you missed, what you wanted to do, and he listened. He may've looked somewhat disinterested, but it was far from that. He wanted to hear you, he was just too proud to fully admit it.

But when it was his turn to talk, he hesitated. He hesitated a lot, actually, and you had to convince him to speak all over again.

And he did! Of course, adding a lot of "I suppose"s and "maybe"s/"possibly"s to his sentences to distance himself from his emotions. He didn't tell you everything, but he did say a majority of his feelings. And... He really felt better.

Subconsciously, you went to pat the top of his head, telling him you're proud that he opened up to you.

Then you realized what you did.

"Oh, sorry! I probably shouldn't-"

As you went to pull your hand away, Togami quickly snatched your wrist, and put your hand back on his head, saying: "This- stays between us, understand?"

You smiled, seeing his rose-tinted cheeks, as your ran your hand through his hair absentmindedly.

As he went back to his reading, you two sat together in a comfortable silence, and a ghost of a grin appeared on his face.

... He could get used to this.

Make sure to drink some water, take any meds you may need to, and maybe eat some fruit or candy! Lotsa love from me, my buttercup baby! <3

[the-signs-of-two]

Okay, people. I’m just going to go on a superlong rant about characterisations and how Sherlock and John are made for each other. I feel like we sometimes get a bit sidetracked discussing mirrors and subtext, references and symbolism, and we forget what is actually there in the text and in the characterisations of these characters.

If we start with John... John is brave and courageous and loyal: 'soldier' qualities. He's also very caring and nurturing and protective: 'doctor' qualities. And that's all well and good. But he also has a bunch of less socially acceptable sides: he's a man who can't stand mundanity, who needs excitement and danger and adrenaline to be content. In reality, he's actually just as poorly suited to conform to social norms as Sherlock, but, unlike Sherlock, he's chosen to suppress the less acceptable sides of himself to be accepted by others rather than be alone (Sherlock has chosen the opposite). So joining the army is a compromise: a socially acceptable way for him to live a life of excitement. And it works - until he's forced home from the war. So to describe John... he has all these strengths: courage, bravery, loyalty, caring and a very well-developed sense of right and wrong. On the other hand, he just... isn't normal. He doesn't fit in. But, unlike Sherlock, he shies away from it instead of embracing it. He's very self-aware and he tries to disguise his lack of being normal. In a way, that he's a soldier AND a doctor shows that dual nature. So his biggest flaw is how incredibly hard he fights to be something he's not, how much of himself he sacrifices to be 'normal' - or at least to be perceived that way by others. His bisexuality is one such aspect of himself that he tries to suppress: he finds it incredibly hard to face the idea that he's not 'just straight' because being straight would be more 'normal'.

Also, there’s that entire halfway subtextual idea that maybe he's so defensive about his sexuality because his father was a homophobe. He's shown at various times to have a very sensitive response to authoritative older men. His sister (Harry) is a lesbian, so it would make sense that maybe she came out and their father didn't approve and John saw that and it just made his own sexuality crisis all the more potent.

So Sherlock offers John what he needs: a life of excitement and adventure that is still morally sound. And I think John loves him not just because of the lifestyle he offers, not just because he's intelligent and John is in awe of that, but because Sherlock represents what John can't find in himself: Sherlock is his own man. He doesn't give a fuck what others think of him (from John’s POV at least). He's himself 100% and all the time and he isn't held back by societal norms in the slightest. And I think John admires and loves him for that. And then... well, then there are the, uhm, more problematic sides of Sherlock. Not just that he insults people and insults John and does stupid, dangerous things and clutters the flat and does experiments in the kitchen right next to their food. That's annoying, sure, but whatever. The real problem John has is that Sherlock is destructive. He's selfdestructive (for instance, dealing with stressful situations by smoking and doing drugs), but he is also just plain destructive. John is moral. For him, the most important thing is morals and doing the right thing and helping others. And Sherlock doesn't always live up to that standard. So there are times when John has to question if Sherlock is actually, you know, GOOD or if he's just motivated by the thrill of being clever. John is a soldier, and later a detective, because he wants to live a life of excitement - but it HAS to be a moral life of excitement. That means everything to him. And the uncertainty about whether Sherlock feels the same is a major problem for John.

Sherlock is... well, he's kind of the opposite. He's not normal, but he's embraced that. He's true to himself and he doesn't suppress who he is. But that's come with a price: he's alone. Few can stand him, no one can understand him. He's lonely, but he's also not interested in being with just anyone, because he takes pride in his intelligence and his difference and people who are just plain, simple and normal... well, he's arrogant enough to look down on them. Like, a lot. He has no respect for societal norms and no respect for authority because he believes he knows best himself. So you could say that both John and Sherlock have a very developed sense of right and wrong. The difference is that John's 'right and wrong' is a universal, socially accepted 'right and wrong', whereas Sherlock's 'right and wrong' is his own and not always in agreeance with the rest of the world.

Sherlock's real problem, though, is that... well, to put it simply: he's too intelligent to be normal and too emotional to be a calculating machine. And he hates himself for it. He isn't actually unemotional, quite the opposite. Only a man who feels very strongly would ever come up with 'All emotion is abhorrent to me', 'I am a brain, everything else is just transport' etc. Sherlock wishes he could be just a brain - he looks up to Mycroft and, indeed, to Moriarty because they manage to do that (at least to his mind). He feels very strongly, but he's too intelligent to be normal, so he's alone and it's lonely and painful. So he longs to not feel. But he can't do that. So he does drugs and shit like that because it dulls that pain.

So John offers Sherlock what he needs: acceptance for who he is. John likes him when he's being himself. And Sherlock loves John not just because John accepts and praises him, but also because Sherlock sees who John is. He sees that John is a soldier AND a doctor, he sees that John is kind of messed up, but he LIKES John's messed-up sides - Sherlock hates the normal and John Watson is not normal.

So in a way, Sherlock loves John for the exact things John hates about himself. And John loves Sherlock for the exact things Sherlock hates about himself - his emotions. I think there's real beauty in that dynamic. They both offer the other exactly what the other needs and they both love the other because of the things the other hates about themself.

And all of that is text and/or basic characterisation. And I think that’s really important to remember.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[incorrectzutaraquotes]

let’s talk racial micro aggressions, because i’ve been seeing a lot of them being used online toward people speaking out about racism and even in fandoms unfortunately, so i think it’s time we have a talk. this is gonna be a semi long one, so buckle up.

just for reference, im asian american. because of that i’ve gone my entire life experiencing racism and discrimination simple because im not white. of course, i have definitely had it better than a lot of people, but that doesn’t take away from my experiences at all. i grew up hating the way i looked, trying to fix myself because i genuinely thought something was wrong with me. this led to years and years of insecurity and self hatred. something i had to go through alone, because my family was white and i was too afraid to tell them how i felt. i was afraid they wouldn’t understand. it’s still something i struggle with, though it’s gotten better.

growing up, as stated before, i was around white people. growing up in a very white town, i unfortunately wasn’t formally educated on racism or what micro aggressions were, i just knew that certain comments made me uneasy and uncomfortable, and hurt my feelings. it wasn’t until i was older, when i started using social media that i really came to understand what all of this was. 

a lot of you who have white privilege are using it to uplift bipoc voices, and i think that’s great. however it’s also important to acknowledge that many people who are actively anti racist still have implicit biases, which can lead to microaggressions.

first of all, what are microaggressions? you may or may not be familiar with the term. if you’re not, that’s okay! you can use this post to educate yourself and make sure you don’t make these mistakes in the future. microaggressions are defined as brief and commonplace daily verbal, behavioural, or environmental indignities, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative prejudicial slights and insults toward any group, particularly culturally marginalized groups.

basically, intentional or unintentional derogatory and prejudice behaviors directed towards marginalized groups.

these are very harmful to marginalized groups, mostly because they’re not as blatant as outright racism, misogyny, homophobia, etc. this makes it often hard to detect, and you may have found yourself using micro aggressions at some point in your life. that’s not important though, what’s important is that, if you have used them in the past, you understand what you said or did was wrong, and that you learn from it.

now, what are specific racial micro aggressions? i’ve compiled a list of them under the cut, and explained why these are insulting and harmful to poc.

“where are you really from” – this insinuates that we will always be seen as foreigners, and not citizens to our own country. it brings on a feeling of not being good enough and that we will not be accepted. 

“not everything’s about race” – if you’re white stop telling bipoc how to feel about race. we are tired of it. please don’t speak over us when we are expressing our discomfort. if poc people are telling you something is racist, it’s racist. stop trying to argue with us, as you are not the ones being affected by it. 

“your food is so weird” – it’s only weird to you because it hasn’t been westernized or americanized. insisting that foreign foods are weird or gross because you aren’t used to it, is hurtful. it’s insulting. 

“all asians look the same” – by saying this, you’re taking away our individuality. asia is a huge continent, not all of us follow the same traditions and not all of us look the same. it’s not a funny joke, and it never has been. 

“you’re pretty for a *insert any race here*” – this is just such a backhanded compliment. it implies that we are not typically or conventionally pretty. it has the same negative connotations as saying “you’re really good...for a girl”. that’s misogynistic for the same reasons saying this is racist. 

“i don’t see color” – again, you’re basically erasing our individuality and culture and telling us we shouldn’t embrace it. many pocs even completely distance themselves from their cultures to seek white validation, which is in every sense of the word, upsetting. people want to fit in so bad that they’re willing to leave behind their entire culture. something that sucks about being adopted at such a young age from a white family, is that i have never had a connection with my culture. i know nothing about it, and that hurts. i rationalized in my head that the reason i didn’t learn about it sooner was because i was happy, but that was a lie i told myself for years. the sad thing is, is that because i wasn’t connected to my culture at all, i fit in better and had an easier time making friends then other pocs in my school. 

assuming all asian people are smart or good at math – stop. it’s not funny. never has been. the stereotype that all asians are smart is not a compliment, and puts a lot of pressure on us as individuals. it objectifies us, assuming we are more like machines and not actual people. long story short, it’s dehumanizing. 

“im not/cant be racist i have black friends” – contrary to popular belief, yes you can be. you can still have a racial bias while being friends with bipoc people. being associated with poc people doesn’t suddenly mean you’re not racist. you may even make racist jokes and think it’s okay because they don’t tell you to stop. just because they are seemingly unbothered does not mean it’s not still racist. a lot of times we are uncomfortable in situations like that, but are too afraid to speak up in fear of our feelings being invalidated or being told to lighten up because it’s just a joke. saying we’re too sensitive when it comes to making mockeries of our races and cultures, is also a micro aggression. 

saying “you people” or “y’all” when talking, usually negatively, about a person of a specific race – you’re generalizing an entire group because of one bad experience which is just contributing to the stereotypes and racism we face daily. one or a few bad interactions with a person of a different race does not speak for an entire population.

clutching your bag tight when a poc person, usually black or latinx, stands next to you or following them in the store – the way i still have to explain this one in 2020. they are not criminals, but by doing this, you’re contributing to the stereotype that they are all criminals and thugs, which simply isn’t true. this stereotype is very damaging and harmful, as it also contributes to the systematic oppression of those people. 

assuming someone only got a certain job or position because they’re bipoc – this insinuates that we did not work hard to get where we are, and that we did not deserve what we got. we simply got it because we aren’t white. affirmative action comes up a lot in this conversation. all affirmative action does is help decide between equally qualified people by favoring the ones who suffer from discrimination in society, but it does not reserve spots for them.

assuming someone knows how to speak mandarin because they’re asian – asia is a large continent with A LOT of languages and cultures. not everyone is chinese. not everyone speaks the same language. it’s insulting and adds to the already hurtful stereotype that all asians look the same.

“you speak english really well” or “how did you learn to speak english so well” – it’s called practicing because people have been making fun of those with accents for years, simply because they are not used to it. being surprised when a poc speaks english well implies that you may think because they’re not white, they are less educated. we’ve simply assimilated because our cultures are constantly rejected and mocked by white people and even other pocs. this also contributes to the notion that westerners are more “civilized” or that they are better, because they(generally speaking this obviously doesn’t apply to everyone)make no effort to learn our cultures, but we have to learn theirs in order to be seen as “acceptable”.

“but *insert race* are racist too” or pointing out immoral things other countries do when people of that race speak up about racism - you’re redirecting the conversation to avoid responsibility. you don’t actually care about those issues, you just want to invalidate our struggles by pointing out that a place many of us have not been to in a long time, or ever, is very flawed. we have no say in what that government chooses to do. not all places are a democracy, and many democracies around the world are flawed.

something important to remember is that anyone can be guilty of implicit bias and micro aggressions. this is not selective to one race. 

if you have anymore of these, please feel free to add on. also, if you’re a poc and something i wrote made you uncomfortable, please tell me. i want to make sure im being truthful with what i said. i did do research for some of these, and some were based on personal experiences, but if you want to add to something or you want me to change or delete something do not hesitate to call me out. 

unfortunately they and other racial stereotypes are very prevalent in american media, which has normalized it in our society. this post is solely meant to educate if you weren’t previously aware of the dangers micro aggressions have on minorities. i started the list because i was tired of seeing so much normalized racism online, but i hope you learned something useful with this. if you stuck around this long, thank you for listening. i appreciate it a lot. 

as for my zutara fans, i apologize for making so many rant posts rather than posting incorrect quotes. i just feel like im able to reach a larger audience with the platform i have on this account than any other one. 

anyway, that’s all. thank you again for listening :) 

[sardonyxie]

Hockey Pucks and Cricuts

Veterans!ModernAU - Levi Squad Edition

These are simply the result of my imagination during a zoom class (Preschool intervention if I remember correctly) and of some ideas thrown in by my best friend/roommate. Some facts were thought of from canon perspective, but most of them are just our five idiots in our everyday world. Enjoy!

Warning: Rivetra content and some swearing! If it’s not your thing and you want to hate, scroll down and move on. 

English isn’t my first language. If some sentences sound weird or wrong, let me know so I can correct them!

Word count: 1 173

Miche squad is up!

Levi 

(Inspired by this)

- He’s from Canada and speaks French. Nobody (except Mikasa) understands him when he’s cursing the others, but they are still scared shitless. When a stranger is being stupid, he makes sarcastic comments in their face by talking about it in French to Mikasa.

- He’s Mikasa’s cousin, but they might as well consider themselves siblings since they spend a lot of time at each other’s house. Both Kuchel and her younger brother, Mikasa’s father, moved for a better life…

- Introduced Eld to hockey and plays with him. Oruo tagged along one day and also got into it.

- Only lets Gunther sit at the front when he’s driving them all since Petra has horrible music taste, Eld can’t follow directions and Oruo bites is tongue to every bump on the road.

- I consider him as street smart. In this case, he learns languages effortlessly and quickly and knows how to get out of a situation by using that skill (and his fists). Never got below an A for those classes in highschool.

- Even if he doesn’t show it very well, he cares a lot about the others and actually offers the most thoughtful presents out of everyone in the squad. He’s a good listener.

Eld

- Is actually from Australia. He moved in the neighborhood when he was five but still has an accent when he speaks. He is Oruo’s next door neighbor and often goes to his house when he wants a tasty snack.

- Plays hockey and actually prefers winter over summer. He’s always down for hockey nights with the other four when the national league is broadcasting its yearly competition. He’s a very dedicated fan of Trost’s Titans.

- Was the type to put everything from his lunchbox in his sandwich. Apple sauce with a ham and mustard sandwich anyone? He still makes strange food mixes nowadays.

- He’s a great photographer and takes pictures for Petra’s shop. However, he can’t pose and often looks silly in pictures.

- Gunther’s best friend. They are THE unbeatable duo at guessing songs. They know pretty much everything from old music to K-pop.

- Plans every vacation trip even if they go oversea. Something always come up in the schedule, but those moments are the highlight of the trip. Petra and he create a travel book for each expedition, and they document it with pictures and anecdotes.

Petra

-  She’s Carla’s first child from her previous marriage. Her dad was in the army and died on duty when she was little. Zeke is a few months older, and they didn’t like each other at first. Now she tolerates him, but they have very opposite point of views in life which sparks some quarrels during diners.

- Half-German from Carla’s side and she speaks the language too.

- Her best girl friend is Nifa.

- She’s all about stationary stuff! She has a super chic bedroom with a beautifully decorated study area. She owns a Cricut machine and makes custom stuff for her friends. She gets inspiration from the people around her and their interests to create cute collections to sell on her Etsy shop.

- Played volleyball along with Hanji, Nifa, Nanaba, and Lynne, and she still coaches her high school team. (Because she mostly has support/team kills in canon, I think she was the setter and glued the team with her sportsmanship and teamwork.)

- Levi and she were the firsts of their entire group of friends to get together. However, they kept it to each other and their immediate family. The others found out when Eren asked Levi if the Ackermans were still coming over for dinner during lunch one day (dang it Eren!).

Gunther

- Fully German, but he was born in Trost and doesn’t speak the language at all.

- The only one not really into sports, but is still active enough to keep a good shape. He was a baryton saxophone player for the jazz band. That being said, he’s still able to follow hockey nights because he plays NHL on his PlayStation and follows the news.

- Levi excluded, Gunther and Petra are the last two brain cells of the group. They almost always chose each other when they did projects or small work. Out of spite, they once decided to do a team of 4 project with Moblit and Nifa instead of Eld and Oruo and to prove they carry the squad.

- Super popular on social media for some reason?

- Dad of the group since day one. He looks scary sometimes, but he’s just a big softie.

- King of the aux cord. I would trust him with my life.

Oruo

- Scottish Oruo anyone? Somehow has a German accent and tries to pick up ladies by speaking very broken Spanish? Calls himself Mr. Worldwide (will make more sense at the end of the list).

- Is favorite cookie? Oreo. “The company should feel blessed about having a cookie with a name like mine” “Oruo they were made before your parents even thought about conceiving you”.

- Because he’s a competitive little shit, he was also part of the swimming team.

- You know when a potato chip brand does a mystery flavour? He always tries to guess it with Moblit and will spend a ton of money to get the cash prize.

   > The thing is: he hates chips. “Those are an abomination why would you eat those when you have popcorn. As much as I LOVE to clean, they are messy, and the stains are hard to remove from the sofa.”

   > Moblit guesses the mystery flavor right all the time, thus making him the winner of all bets and leaving Oruo a little poorer each time.  

- He cares a lot about his friends, even if it doesn’t show because he insults everyone. HOWEVER! If anyone else tries to insult them, he’s going to throw fists and will make people cry with his insults.

- Tried to get into Harvard just to flex.

   > Newsflash: he didn’t.

- Gelgar and he are the party masters. They know how to throw a mean fiesta, and it’s almost always a huge success.

Rivetra bits

- I feel like their relationship just… happened? They were friends one day and next thing you know they were dating.

- Double dates with Mikenana or Mobuhan.

- Mikasa loves Petra and always reminds Levi to marry her one day. On the other hand, Eren was scared of Levi at first and didn’t understand what his half-sister saw in him, but he changed his mind over time. He can’t see anyone else with his big sister now.

   > On that note, Zeke can’t get over the fact that she chose to date is so called “enemy”.

- They don’t like the attention which is why they haven’t said anything for a very long time.

   > However, the other three had a little idea of what was going on, but they are best friend material and kept the info to themselves.

-  Winter. Wedding. Petra with a long sleeve dress and Levi being handsome as always.

___________________

Do we like it? Do we hate it? What happened to the Ackermans in Canada? The Jäger household dynamic would be nuts!

Please let me know your thoughts! Should I do more of these in this AU?

If you have any other verse idea and would like someone to write it up let me know! 

[ssson-of-sparda]

A TRIP TO THE BEACH - PART 2 (DANTE X FEM!READER)

Summary: When Dante shows up, Patty finally learns how things ended between Y/N and him but that's not the kind of ending she likes. (Part 5 of A Tab To Erase) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Tags: Dante is Tony Redgrave / Love / Angst / Blood and Gore / Minor Character Death / Violence

Author’s note: This is the end! I hope you enjoyed this fan fiction as much as I enjoyed writing it. I can't wait to read your thoughts about it. Is it the end you expected? How did you imagine it? Tell me everything. I'm all ears

Patty dared peeping from above the headrest of the couch when the woman opened the door, definitely curious to see the two adults’ reactions when they would finally see each other – though she still feared Dante’s wrath a little.                 But when she finally saw them face-to-face, this couple she had been imagining – and rooting for - for weeks, she didn’t care about her friend’s anger or disappointment - He would definitely thank her later - . They looked so perfect, like coming from an episode of one of those telenovelas she loved so much. Dante was towering Y/N perfectly and she was so pretty. And the lighting.  Gosh “Like a scene from a movie.” She sighed. If only she could read their minds right now.      “There you are, young lady!” Dante declared with a menacing finger as he entered the house            “Hi Dante! What are you doing here?” Patty tried to play innocent but there was something in her voice that couldn’t fool Dante. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I never thought this annoying little brat would dare come here … or steal my stuff.”  “That’s alright, Dante. We were having fun actually. And at least, that girl dared visit me … unlike someone else.” Dante definitely felt that sting and he knew he deserved it. “How long has it been?” “A while.” He said, pretending to be casual even though he had the right amount of years and months in mind. “And this day never happened. Come on, Patty. Let’s go.”             No, no, no. This couldn’t end like that. Patty thought. Not after all this time. “Can I at least finish my tea please?”                  “ I’ll buy you a tea on the way back to Red Grave. Let’s go!” Dante insisted as he came closer to the girl to grab her by the arm and drag her away from Y/N’s place as fast as possible. “Right. Like I’m going to believe you. You never buy me anything, even when you owe me.” Y/N smiled while Dante sighed deeply. “Damn it.”                  “ Plus, you still owe me a trip to the beach.”   “ Alright. I’ll take you to the beach. You happy? Now let’s go.” He tried to pull her from the sofa but the girl resisted.             “ Or … you can let Y/N finish her story.” Patty suggested. Dante glanced at Y/N whom he hadn’t seen go to the kitchen to prepare him a strawberry sundae. “Actually I’d prefer that. Y/N can you continue your story, please?”   “ Well, maybe Dante can tell you so that you can finally erase his tab while I’m making this devil a strawberry sundae. Topped with a cherry and two pink wafers, is that it?”           “I don’t know. You’re the pro.” He had a faint smile at her that Patty noticed and beamed at. About time. “Where did you stop you damn story?”

A TRIP TO THE BEACH - Part 2

Dante was sitting at his desk, eyes closed, a magazine covering his face while he was listening to some good old school metal on the jukebox he had just acquired when the damn machine starting to sizzle and shake. “You gotta be kidding me.” Dante complained and, with a deep sigh, got up from his chair to kick the jukebox like Y/N had once taught him. “Funny how those machines always need a good kick to work.”          When he thought of his beloved girlfriend and realised how late it was, he wondered how the hell she had not arrived yet. It was very dark outside and the clock was striking one. The restaurant should be closed by now and Y/N should have been in his arms at least an hour ago, naked preferably.

Not sure Patty needs to know that.

Worry tied Dante’s stomach in a knot in spite of his sleepy brain screaming at him not to be paranoid. “Relax, Dante. She’s probably helping clean the kitchen or something”, he told himself     And yet, tired of repeating this sentence over and over again in his head, he decided to grab his coat and head to the diner. Better be paranoid and look like fool rather than wait here and worry one more second. Plus, he had waited long enough already and he had made a fool of himself in front of Y/N more than once. So what was one more time, huh?

But when Dante arrived at the restaurant and found it empty and dark, he wished he looked like a paranoid fool. But he was not paranoid and he was not a fool. He was terrified and alert in ways he hadn’t been for years. “Please be okay.” He whispered as he entered the place, feeling once again like a little boy hidden in a cupboard, crying for mommy and his brother. A ghastly feeling for someone who had spent years burying his past deep in his armoured heart as a promise … a dying wish.

Dante climbed the stairs quickly, very quickly and yet not quickly enough to his taste, only to stop and freeze at the sight and smell of warm blood on the wooden floor. But there was not just iron and salt flowing to his nostrils, there was this stench, rotting and disgusting, a stench only his demon sense could pick but that would soon be unbearable for humans too, he was sure of it. The stench of decaying corpses.

The son of Sparda never really liked Y/N’s parents. He actually lost almost all sort of respect for them the second they insulted him and made him understand they would never approve of him or of his relationship with their precious daughter. But when he saw them both, drenched in blood and completely ripped apart, their broken bodies lying on the floor of in their bedroom, he couldn’t help but feel sadness and compassion especially for the woman who was standing in the corner of the room, petrified and in tears, her small feminine frame strongly hold in a demonic grip. A nightmarish vision that had been scaring Dante for too long.               “Took you long enough… Son of Sparda.” The demon said with a calm and yet menacing cavernous voice that would make anyone tremble in fear. But that wasn’t the sound of his voice that made Dante afraid – because yes he was afraid –

You? Afraid? Rrr, shut up!

It was the sight of the woman he loved so close to that monster’s sharp claws.           The half-demon squinted at the devil before him, at his cloaked silhouette hidden in the darkness, trying to hide his fear, turning it into a nonchalant and over-confident mask he knew how to wear better than anything else (except his red leather jacket) but that somehow didn’t look as convincing as usual. “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong guy, pal. Sparda may have a son. But that's not me.”          “Tony, what’s going on?” Y/N’s voice was shaking just like the rest of her body.            “It’s alright, baby. I’ll get you out of here. I promise.” He had too.        “You can try and pretend to be someone else. But I know who you are. Dante, Son of Sparda. And soon, your blood will flow for what your father did to my master.” Usually, that same old routine would have made Dante scoff and slice that creature in two for he was used to demons coming at him with pathetic threats and silly villain monologues. But today, what was at stake was simply way too important for impulsiveness.           “And who would that master be?”         “The one true king of the underworld. Mundus.”

Dante had heard that name before, long ago, in something that was now a long-time memory. Mundus was the villain of his favourite bedtime story, the one his father would always tell him and Vergil before going to sleep, when they were nothing but kids tucked in their beds.            Mundus. He remembered how that name would make him fidget and jump in anticipation and how his big brother in the bed under his would always kick him through the mattress to make him stop wriggling like a hyperactive goldfish out of water.            Mundus, the so-called Prince of Darkness Sparda had cast away and locked in the underworld a long long time ago to free the human world from his diabolical tyranny. Never thought he would have ever heard about him in another context though.

“Oh. That dude. Thought he would be dead by now… like you soon will be”    “Cocky, just like that filthy betrayer Sparda.” The demon smiled, showing short pointy black fangs that yet shone in the dim moonlight. “And in love with a human, just like he was. It would be a shame …” He grabbed a strand of Y/N’s (colour) hair to toy with it with a vicious smirk, making the young woman shiver even more. “… if something were to happen to her the same way something happened to your slut mother” Dante felt his jaw clench tight and his nails pierce the flesh of his palms. The rage, it was slowly yet surely eating at him.               “Don’t you dare talk about my mother! And don’t you dare lay even just a finger on Y/N!” Dante growled, not realising he had just given his identity up. But the black demon did and with a satisfied smile, he cupped Y/N’s face in between his vile sharp claws to burry his long nose in Dante lover’s soft hair and smell her human perfume that was oh so exquisite to him. An intended provocation and an effective one.      “How chivalrous! How noble! I’m sure your father would have said the same thing…” Dante frowned and clenched his fists even tighter, trying to stay put and in control, trying desperately to resist the powerful will to pounce on that demon and impale him on his sword and spill his guts on the floor. He knew he had too because he knew that the reaction he thought so much about was exactly what that monster wanted.           He was trying to infuriate him, to make him reckless and stop thinking rationally so that he would have him at a possible advantage when he let his rage have the best of him. Provocation at its finest. A strategy Dante knew all about. “… had he been here when I and my fellow demons tore her apart.” Yes, he knew all about it and yet... “Mundus says farewell, hybrid filth.” He suddenly stopped caring about what he knew.

Dante jumped and with a scream, unsheathed his sword to slash the arm that was holding Y/N. An impulsive move, a mistake he realised only too late, when the demon pierced the soft neck of the one he loved the most with his sharp claws in an attempt to protect himself from the demonic blade.       Everything went so quick to Y/N and yet so slow to Dante. She didn’t scream. She didn’t even have time to realise what was going on or to process the sudden pain. She only understood something was wrong when her body hit the floor and she saw Dante’s icy blue eyes widen and stare at her in horror. Then she felt the blood, her blood she was quite certain of it, running along her pale skin covering it in shades of dark red.                   Dante screamed like never before, like no human could, so loud the walls trembled and the demon slightly bowed down in fear. He screamed with an anger, a rage he didn’t know he was capable of, something so deep and passionate he never thought was in him. Something fiery … something … demonic. It felt like his skin was burning, like there was a ravaging fire spreading, growing in his body, menacing to burst, to combust him. And it almost did. It almost did but it stopped just when Rebellion sliced the head of the demon open, spilling his brains and his blood on the walls behind him.   Then, there was a relief that all this was over. The fight. The fire. The fear…  No not the fear!

“Y/N” Dante ran to her and quickly pressed her body against his. His hand found her neck to apply pressure on her bloody wound. She was barely conscious but she was still with him. “I’m so sorry, baby. Hold on, I got you.” He kissed her forehead. It was so cold against his lips. “You’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

Dante stayed by her side for what seemed hours to him, holding her tight against him, trying to keep the weakening life in her safe, when finally blue and red lights began to flicker in the bedroom. What happened next was so blurry. All he could make out were a group of men dragging Y/N from his embrace, saying they would take care of her and that he had to let her go. He didn’t know how he did it but he eventually obeyed those men, in spite of his arms trying to reach for her.         He followed them- followed Y/N- to the crowded street where the nearby residents were crammed into, whispering and trying to take a peep at what was going on in this usual very quiet neighbourhood. But he didn’t care about them or their judgmental looks. All he cared about was Y/N being taken away in an ambulance.   The paramedics didn’t let him in. And in spite of how much he wanted to fight their decision, Dante chose not to. He couldn’t delay them. Y/N’s life depended on time and too much had been wasted already.

But he found her again, like he would always find her, and he spent days waiting for her to wake up, waiting for her beautiful (colour) eyes to open again, for her sweet voice to say she was alright, his hand holding hers in an eternal grip that only her awakening could break, days in which he had to think about what happened, about what could have happened and what will happen. So many hypothesis, each one worse than the last.       And when Y/N finally awoke and, with a soft smile that bear no grudges or hatred, said. “Hey handsome.” He did what he thought he should have done days ago. “We need to end this.”

***

Patty’s eyes were glowing with tears as she was staring at Dante without blinking. This was certainly the saddest love story she had ever heard in her entire life. Even Bolero in Spring had never made her feel so much. “You can’t do that!” She declared as if in denial, as if she could change the past. “The story can’t end like this!”    “But it is not a story, Patty. This is not some television show made to satisfy a bunch of hopeless romantic little girls. It’s real life. And real life is tough and …” Dante looked at Y/N, at her sad eyes and at the scar she was trying to conceal under a red silk scarf. “What’s done cannot be undone.” “But you loved each other!” The girl was almost furious, shaking her head nervously.              “Patty.” Dante said calmly.       “And you still love each other, I’m sure of it. I can tell by the way you both tell your story.”   “Patty.” Dante repeated with insistence this time.     “I won’t have this ending! No way!” She shouted with a deep frown.                  “It has already ended!” Dante screamed and Patty froze. He had never screamed at her, never in his entire life, even in times when she was incredibly annoying. He had never screamed at her. “It has ended. And neither you nor anyone can change it, okay? If it doesn’t please you, you can leave, wait in the car and go back to your mushy love series.”

There was a pregnant silence in which Patty stared at Dante with a disappointment he had never witnessed. “Y/N was right. You know how to fight demons. But you don’t know how to fight YOUR demons.” And she got up and left the house to do exactly what her beloved friend had told her, meaning wait in the car to go back to mushy love stories, leaving Dante and Y/N alone in the living room with nothing else but a heavy discomfort.

“I’m sorry for making a scene.”                “ Well, you always had a flair for the dramatic.” They both had a conspiratorial smile similar to the ones they used to share when they were younger except it was fainter, sadder. “ She read the letter, the one you wrote me” Dante said staring at his hands in discomfort. He couldn’t look at Y/N, not with all the memories rushing in his head.                  “ I figured.” But she looked at him, excepting deep down he would say something, anything about what happened.”Never thought you would have kept it though.”               “ Why not?”       “ You never replied.” And there it was, that disappointment Dante well deserved.   “I did reply. I just never sent the letter.” Y/N's eyes slightly widened at this unexpected confession. What did he mean by that?              “Huh, words of advice. After writing a letter to someone, you need to mail it.” She declared sarcastically, not really knowing how she managed to crack such a joke. Was it a joke? Maybe, because Dante laughed a bit.       “ I had no money to buy a stamp.” The girl scoffed. She knew the man before her all to well to know that this was “Bullshit.” But she had missed it, missed him.  “What did it say?”          “ Same crap I told you at the hospital. How much I was sorry and … You know what? … There.” He opened his red coat to take a crumpled letter from his inside pocket. It was unsealed, stamped –obviously- and her name and address were written on it.                “ I hope Devil May Cry will never provide delivery service cause this has clearly arrived way too late.” However she took it in her hands, gathering all her inner strength not to tremble as she could feel all those emotions shaking inside of her.  “ Years too late. You can say it.” Dante smiled as he watched the letter he had kept to himself for so many years finally reaching its long-awaited recipient.  “I don’t expect you to read it … or open it. You can actually turn it into a paper plane or shove it down my throat if you want. I won’t fight you.” Of course he had to joke, to play it cool but she didn’t mind. She knew it was just one of his defence mechanism and she couldn’t blame him for it.      “ So why giving it to me?” Dante shrugged, refusing to admit he did want her to read what his young 19 years old self had to say, what he still had to say. “You can’t stop with the devil-may-care for a second and admit what you truly want, what you truly feel, can you?”     “ Fight my demons, huh?” He quoted her and she nodded. “Yes. Would that be so complicated for a ‘menacing devil hunter’ like yourself?” It was her turn to quote him but that quote made him melancholically happy.                   “ I guess that’s a challenge I still can not face.”              “ Or don’t want to” There was a new pause and as they finally looked at each other’s eyes, they knew they would not fix what had been broken years ago today. He was not ready. Not yet anyway. And that was okay. Y/N was patient. She could wait. She could keep waiting.     “Goodbye Y/N” Especially when this time a kiss on her forehead and a hand on her cheek felt more hopeful than ever. “Goodbye, Dante.”

And she watched him leave, again, but certain that someday, one day he would come back to her as he always would. After all, he promised.

[calliecat93]

When I started TNG, the biggest curiosity I had was why Dr. Pulaski was so hated. I heard plenty about why, but at the same time I wanted to see for myself and be able to draw my own conclusions. Well now that I’ve finished S2, I think that I can safely state my opinion and the reasons why she had such a bad reception.

My general opinion is… Pulaski’s fine, but she got an bad start. She’s a very competent doctor who is devoted to her duty. She’s a bit of a smartass, but otherwise a friendly enough person. She’s a VERY much based off a certain CMO form a certain other Star Trek show that came out before this one, but we’ll get to that later. Pulaski honestly had a lot working against her and she just wasn’t able to get over them despite her actress Diana Muldaur (who played Miranda Jones in TOS) doing an excelent acting job. It ultimately ended with Pulaski being dropped all together and Crusher returning in Season 3.

While I understand the hate against Pulaski and can’t say that it’s unwarranted to an extent, I think that a lot of it that I saw was overblown. Now if people disliked the character, that’s fine. Everyone has different tastes and reasons for what they like and dislike and should be free to have and express those thoughts. But a lot of the issues with her that I had were taken care of very early on and she became much better by the end of her tenure. So why do I believe that Pulaski ultimately failed? Well I’ve come up with three explanations based off my own observations from watching the show and what I got from fandom consensus. Now this is all my opinion based on those observations and is not objective fact whatsoever, so take this with a grain of salt. So I believe the reasons that Pulaski failed are:

#1. She Is Essentially a Female Dr. McCoy… Sort Of: Pulaski was clearly heavily based on Dr. McCoy from TOS. She’s an middle-aged, somewhat world-weary doctor. She’s stubborn, grumpy, and doesn’t put up with anyone’s crap. She’s witty and always ready with a biting comment. She has the dedication to her job. She has the bantery relationship with the Science Officer, which we’ll go into that here soon. She is a doctor before she is an officer and that will always be her top priority, even at great risk to herself. She has a zero tolerance towards authority and isn’t afraid to talk back to anyone no matter how much they outrank her. She even outright has a hatred of teleporters that McCoy had. The parallels are all there. It may be why I’m a bit more lenient on her since McCoy is very much my favorite character in TOS and so far all of ST. But I think it is very much the root of the problem.

While Pulaski has several of McCoy’s traits, I think the writers really only understood McCoy on a surface level. They forget to include his compassion, his empathy, his humanism, his loyalty to the captain even when he opposes his actions, all of the things that make McCoy… well, McCoy. I don’t even know if the pacifism is there. Also McCoy had over 70 episodes of TOS and at that point five films (Undiscovered Country hadn’t been made yet). Pulaski had about 20 episodes and her relevance depended on the episode. McCoy had that as well, but he also had more material so we had FAR more time to get to know him. Pulaski didn’t get to have the time to gain that depth or care from the audience. Like… can I imagine Pulaski hypoing someone so that she can be tortured in their stead and it have the same impact that The Empath did? Can I see her counseling and assuring Picard if he’s having doubts like McCoy did for Kirk in The Ultimate Computer (okay tbf that would be Troi’s job but still)? Could I imagine any of the main cast being crushed about Pulaski dying of a terminal illness and choosing to stay on essentially a doomed spaceship with someone she just met and feel as gutted as I did in For the World is Hollow…? Honestly… given time maybe but in the end no. Now could I imagine McCoy risking getting an aging illness to possibly cure a child and others of it ala Unnatural Selection? Yes, albiet I think he’d be smart enough to bring protective equipment with him to be safe. Could I imagine McCoy telling someone like Data they’d be wrong to sit by a woman giving birth because he wasn’t human ala The Child? Hell no. Maybe he would if he was worried it would cause potential distress the one giving birth, but it sure as hell wouldn’t be because they’re an android. But I could imagine that someone who just saw McCoy as ‘grumpy doctor with a bad bedside manner who says witty lines and argues with the logical Vulcan character’ would get that interpretation. Thus why I think that Pulaski may have ended up how she did.

Now mind you I do think it IS a double standard to excuse McCoy’s dickish momemts and flaws, but demonize Pulaski for her’s. It’s like saying a man can be that way because it’s just expected of them and they can be forgiven, but a woman doing so or being assertice is wrong and they are horrible and unforgivable for having these traits or having flaws even if they correct them. That being said I do think that it’s more than that and it all comes down to the fact that TOS and TNG are two different shows with different character dynamics and ways of doing things. TOS mainly followed a Triumvirate (for the most part but that’s a different post entirely), TNG is much more of an ensemble. Pulaski didn’t have a Kirk nor a Spock to bounce off of or either let her traits shine or be kept in check like McCoy did nor did she really develop any unique relations for herself aside from maybe with Troi. We hear about her empathy and humanitarianism, but we don’t really see it on-screen like we did with McCoy. She has his surface level traits, not the deeper ones that the Triumvirate dynamic along his doctor position allowed him to showcase. In other words, Pulaski was put in a series that wasn’t designed for her while McCoy was exactly where he needed to be in order to thrive. It really speaks to how much the TNG writers didn’t really seem to get McCoy or why and how his character worked, which is strange since they got him right when he showed up in the series premiere. But maybe that was due to DeForest Kelley and him absolutely knowing the character he’d played for so long. But yeah they tried to replicate McCoy, and it just didn’t work with TNG’s already established character dynamics nor did they fully get the character that they were trying to recreate. If I want McCoy, I’ll go watch TOS or AOS. I didn’t need Pulaski for that.

#2. Data and Misconstrued Character Dynamics; This is in relation to the first reason and REALLY shows how much the writers didn’t think the dynamics through. We all know how much Spock and McCoy bantered. How they are opposite ends of the spectrum and how their perspective points helped Kirk in making his decisions. Well clealry they wanted to re-create that with Pulaski and Data. Makes sense, Pulaski represents the humanism and Data the logical. But there’s one big, BIG problem with that: Data is NOT Spock. A lot fo people have pointed this out, but here’s the thing about Spock. Despite whatever he may have said, Spock DID have emotions. He kept them suppressed due to the issues in his upbringing and that wasn’t necessarily healthy, but he did have them. And despite speaking in a calm manner, he was also an utter sass bucket, could be rude, and had no issue putting down humanity if he had a point to make. He and McCoy were very much equal in their bantering and yes maybe McCoy could go too far with his insults, but there was always an equal balance and Spock was also perfectly capable of starting/escalating their spats. There were also plenty of moments to show that in spite of it, they were still friends and cared a great deal about each other with probably the best examples of this being The Immunity Syndrome, Bread and Circuses, The Empath, and plenty of moments in others like Miri and For the World is Hollow… Those who have been following me know how much I love the Spock/McCoy dynamic and I could go all day, but the point is it’s a complex relationship that may seem like disdain on the outside, but is so much more when you examine it up close.

Data however? Data is intelligent and the Science Officer with a calm demeanor, but that’s about where the similarity between him and Spock ends. Data is an android. I do not believe that he is emotionless, he just has a different wiring that causes him to feel things differently. He’s never shown disdain towards humanity at least from what I’ve observed thus far. If anything, he actively seeks to understand it and emotions more. He actively has hobbies like Sherlock Holmes. He tries things like sneezing and growing a beard in an effort to understand more. Data is more or less a child with a child-like understanding of things and he doesn’t really understand social cues or things like humor, but he DOES have emotions and feelings. There’s too much on-screen evidence to say otherwise. He just has his own way of processing it. This is what makes Pulaski look so bad. When she calls Data a machine, says he can’t understand, and even purposefully mispronounces his name, she comes across as an outright bully. She is essentially bullying a neurodivergent child. Do I need to explain why that’s awful? Data, while by no means a doormat, isn’t the type to sass back or make any biting comments back like Spock would. There is no balance. There is no equal footing. There are not enough positive interactions outside the banter to show that there is something deeper there at the end of the day like Spock and McCoy did. Heck you can even compare how Pulaski and McCoy talk to Data via McCoy’s guest appearance in Encounter at Farpoint. He DOES make a quip about Vulcans when talking to Data and when Data points out he’s an android not a Vulcan, McCoy mumbles “Just as bad.” But immediately after he gives Data genuine heartfelt advice on treating the Enterprise with care. It’s clear that ultimately it’s McCoy being his usual grumpy self who’d be acting the same way towards anyone else and is otherwise perfectly civil and encouraging to Data. We’ve known him long enough to know this. Pulaski didn’t have that luxury, coming off as condescending towards Data at best and considering that she’s a doctor, it looks especially bad.

Now to be fair this only lasts for about four episodes. Pulaski does start catching herself by her second episode, and stops completely after Unnatural Selection when Data helps her and stays with her after she gets the aging virus. After that she’s MUCH moe civil to him, even defending his choice going against the Prime Directive in Pen Pals and was at his retirement party in The Measure of a Man. But clearly the damage had been done. Data is a very beloved character and by Oulaski’s intro had already been established and well-liked character. Data was treated equally and was valued as far more than just an android among the rest of the crew, Crusher included, so Pulaski coming in a season later and acting that way also didn’t help. The writers did not think through why Spock and McCoy worked and how to try figure out a unique dynamic for Pulaski and Data. Instead they just tried to copy TOS, and it utterly failed. It ruined Pulaski’s chances before she could even really start running. But I do believe that she could have rebounded and as I said, she DID get past it. She did relapse some at the end of the season in Peak Performance to the point I wanna say that maybe it chronologically happened earlier in the season, but even then she felt realized her screw up and apologized. It’s still an improvement from early on. But things just weren’t meant to be, which leads is to…

#3. She Only Lasted One Season/She Replaced Dr. Crusher: I believe that the biggest thing that worked against Pulaski is simple: she was cut after Season 2. Pulaski was created when Gates MacFadden left the show. I’ve seen conflicting reasons as to why, but regardless she left and a CMO was needed. IDK how popular Crusher was, but I had really enjoyed her. She was essentially the mom of the ship which added something different from TOS (wel McCoy was also the mom lets be real XD), had a son onboard which also added something new, was very much capable and devoted to her job, and was a badass when she got to use a phaser. Her being written out sucked, but that’s not necessarily a reason to hate Pulaski. But as I highlighted above, she just didn’t work. They tried to make McCoy, but without the dynamics and depth that let McCoy flourish. TNG is not TOS. Whenever TNG tried replicating TOS like with The Naked Now? It blew up in their faces. The key to a spinoff or reboot is to keep certain themes and tone alive, but to not just replicate what came before. TNG flourished when it began to find it’s own footing, and ultimately lasted four seasons longer than it’s predecessor due to it.

I genuinely believe that Pulaski COULD have developed into her own character and could have found her place the same way that McCoy did. But alas that didn’t happen. People wanted Crusher back, so they managed to get MacFadden to return and thus Crusher was put back in her rightful place. Because of it, Pulaski was just forgotten about. She didn’t get the chance to form her own character. She didn’t the chance to develop further and leave her early days behind. Why? Because she simply wasn’t given the opprotunity to do so. I can’t say it was the wrong choice, but it’s an utter shame because I do believe that Pulaski was on her way to improving. But it was too late. Her bad start with Data, her character not working in the TNG dynamic, and her replacing an already perfectly likeable character who did fit the dynamics all amounted to the character’s abrupt end. And because she didn’t get the chance to develop further and find her own path, her bad reputation has stuck to this very day.

In the end, the whole thing just feels like a waste. Pulaski had potential, but it just didn’t work in the end. I can’t say that I hate her. If anything, I feel bad for her. The writers failed her at the end of the day and by the time they tried correcting their errors, the audience had already made their judgement. It may have been for the best to just drop her and bring Crusher back, but I also hate seeing character potential just so utterly wasted. I hope that if any side material used Pulaski, they were able to find a much better direction for her. I can’t say that I love Pulaski. In a more TOS-like setting maybe she’d have worked better. But in the end I think that Pulaski was a decent character who just had too much working against her and they caused her to crash and burn. Just an unfortunate case all in all.

(Image Source)

[igirisuhito]

Title: Writing down all the things gone wrong Relationship(s): Komaeda Nagito/Matsuda Yasuke Rating: Teen Summary: Upon receiving a gift from Hinata, Komaeda attempts to learn more about a student who once went to Hope's Peak academy. After a strange nightmare, he contemplates the trustworthiness of his memory. Trigger Warnings: Childhood trauma, Religious discussion (I guess?), Doctor/Patient, Medical angst, regular angst, Treatment refusal, Dementia Notes: Happy birthday Komaeda. I hope you like suffering. 

[Ao3 Link]

『••✎••』

"Hey uh, do you want this?"

Hinata's hand outstretches towards him, holding a thin paperback book between calloused fingers. It appears to be a school notebook; worn, ragged, really in a complete state of disrepair. The once white cover was now a full grey, bearing smudged writing and barely recognisable symbols. If they were symbols from any other organisation, Komaeda probably wouldn't have recognised them and asked why Hinata thought to insult him with this utter piece of trash.

"I know you like Hope's Peak memorabilia, right? This isn't really memorabilia, per say, but…" As he rambles away to himself, Hinata starts to look more and more awkward. Is he embarrassed? Ah, who wouldn't be humiliated, being seen giving such a thoughtful gift to Komaeda in an act of pity.

Before Hinata can try and make some other excuse, Komaeda reaches out, pale digits barely passing over the messy kanji. "Ry…ko… Oto…'s…"

He has to pause, squinting hard at the words. He wonders if there's a chance he's reading it wrong. "Memory notebook? Like a diary?"

Komaeda takes the notebook into his hands, accepting the gift. However, he can't suppress the grin that crosses his face as he looks back up at Hinata, the desire to tease the other just too tempting to resist. "Oh my Hinata-kun… why are you walking around with a girl's diary?"

"I-I got it from the Monomono machine, okay?!" He flushes bright red, beginning to stammer as he shoves his hands back into his pockets. "I-It could be a guy's!"

Doubtful, Komaeda flicks the crinkled pages open, carefully separating each one with his fingers. The way the ink is washed out on every page reminds him of when you would accidentally put a receipt through the wash, full of barely comprehensible writing and doodles. An overuse of love hearts and sparkles, however, proves his theory correct.

"Even if you didn't get it from somewhere weird... I'm not sure if it's really okay for me to accept this!" Sucking in a deep breath, Komaeda grips his elbows in order to calm himself. "There must be some incredibly bad luck waiting for me! For Hinata-kun to go out of his way to give me something so amazing… haha, I feel a little tingly just thinking about it!"

"Seriously, it's no big deal," it seems as though Hinata's face is just getting hotter, he must be truly embarrassed by how much of a fuss Komaeda is making over it. "Just take it, okay? We had a good time today."

"Well, thank you, Hinata-kun. It makes me unbearably happy that you would give me a gift like this!" Smile stretching impossibly wide, Komaeda holds the notebook close to his chest, careful not to crush it.

"Go home, Komaeda."

With an aggressive nod, he says his farewells, "Well then, I'll see you tomorrow, Hinata-kun."

And with that, Hinata turns away, already running off down the beach. He's sprinting like he's trying to escape something, though it wouldn't surprise Komaeda if he was just trying to run away from any possibility of them speaking again. Unfortunately for Hinata, their time on this island isn't nearly over, and he would have to face Komaeda once again tomorrow in Jabberwock Park.

A soft sigh slips past his lips with the thought. He glances towards the horizon, the glowing sea of orange as waves gently roll up on the shoreline. The sun is setting on another perfect day. A cool breeze plays at the strands of Komaeda's hair, knocking it into his eyes. He brings a hand to his face, tucking the loose white locks behind one ear as he glances back down towards the notebook in his hands.

"Memory notebook, huh?"

◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌

Komaeda sits himself down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, placing his gift from Hinata at his side. It has been an unbearably long day, between spending the morning working to collect resources and the afternoon making sandcastles with Hinata, he was worn to the bone.

He leans down to undo the zips on his boots before kicking them off. As he wiggles his toes, he is overcome by the unpleasant sensation of sand sticking between them. With a groan, he begrudgingly pulls off his socks too, all too aware of the sound of the grains hitting the floorboard as he does. A mess to deal with later.

Quickly dusting off his feet, then brings them up onto the bed with him, laying back on the covers. An ache immediately begins to settle in his muscles, and a yawn forces its way out of his mouth. With the warm heat of the evening, it feels as though he could fall asleep right here and now. As pleasant as that would be, he has yet to properly examine Hinata's gift. He'd been brimming with anxious excitement to look at it the whole walk back to his cabin.

Bringing the notebook up to his side, he lays his head against the pillow and flicks it open. The first page is filled with rushed writing done in black pen, ink that has since been washed away. If he squints hard enough, he can just barely make out the characters, fill in some blanks. This is definitely a notebook once belonging to somebody going to Hope's Peak Academy.

How exciting!

He turns the page. There's a two page spread of nothing but blurry sketches and doodles, and from what he can tell, they're incredibly well done. The artist obviously had quite the knack for reproducing realistic details, honing in on fine points such as the eyes and lips.

Carefully flicking to the next page, he finds more hastily scribbled notes and drawings. It's unusual, the subject is the same in almost every occasion, and with each depiction Komaeda finds himself starting to build a better image of that person in his head.

The ballpoint scribbles illustrate a young Japanese man, bearing long shoulder length hair and meticulously detailed eyelashes. His lips are thin, often turned down in a frown, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The owner of the diary was very clearly infatuated with him, and he could understand why. The man was naturally gorgeous even with such a pouty face.

And somehow, he felt strikingly familiar.

Komaeda turns through a few more pages, carefully poring over the illegible kanji and fuzzy details. No matter how hard he squints, he just can't understand what the words read, as though the information is purposefully taunting him, hanging just out of reach. With a sigh, he closes the notebook and allows his eyelids to flicker shut.

"How despairing."

◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌

"Your dementia is progressing quickly." Crossing one leg over the other, the doctor spun around in his chair to face Komaeda.

His demeanour was… laid-back. Much too laid back for a doctor. And mean, harsh, unnecessarily cruel. It was clear on his face that he thought Komaeda was the most revolting thing he'd seen all day, and he was probably right.

"Ah, such is fate for someone as worthless as me. Perhaps I really am meant to die." He laughed softly to himself, gazing down at his lap.

"Shut up," the doctor hissed. "Are you taking your medication?"

Komaeda stared out the window, wordless in his thoughts. The sunlight streaming through the glass felt warm on his skin, unlike the chill of metal on the medical bed beneath him. It was a lovely day brimming with hope, a day he would have liked to be out there enjoying.

"It's a nice day isn't it, M̧̩̹̗͕̮̼̆̋͑a̦̮̟̠̓͜ť̇҉̺̙s̪̦̟̋ͤ̽͗͜ŭ̺͉̖̫͍̯̪ͯ̐͠d̷̬̤̹̩̱̫̻̺͊a̵̯͙͖̙̩͇͂͛̓̊-kun?"

"Huh?" The doctor blinked, before looking up from his clipboard and out the window. "What are you talking about? Answer the damn question."

He remained silent, continuing to gaze out the window at the campus below. There were students socialising, exercising, running to class. Blurs of smiling faces amongst a sea of brown, each student filled with a sense of pride. The air is filled with distant laughter and chatter. It's too quiet in the room.

"Why don't you wear the Hope's Peak Uniform?"

There was a loud clatter as the doctor's clipboard hit the floor. Before Komaeda can react, (as if he was going to), he's risen to his feet and practically pounced on the boy. The doctor's pale hands reached for his chest, securing a handful of his sweater. A soft gasp escaped his lips, being pulled forward until he came nose to nose with the doctor, warm erratic breaths coming short and fast on his lips.

His face was difficult to see when he was on the other side of the room, but Komaeda realised that distance was not the issue. Even when he was so close the details were hazy, Komaeda only barely being able to make a deep frown etched beneath his dark bangs. Every time he tried to take in more details, it was as though he were looking too closely at a painting, unable to take in the full image beyond a few brush strokes.

"I knew it. Of course you wouldn't take them." He spit, teeth bared and eyebrows furrowed. "You just think your fucking luck is going to save you, that this is all some big plan for 'hope'."

The doctor let go, allowing Komaeda to slump back into his chair. He looked distressed, unreasonably so to the point of unprofessionalism. The doctor swept back his hair, giving Komaeda a glimpse of glaring blue eyes before he pressed the palms of his hands into his eye sockets.

Komaeda couldn't help but chuckle to himself. And before he knew it, he was laughing. Laughing raucously, in a way that made his whole body shake with dread, his mind spin with despair. His fingers wound their way to his scalp and he gripped and pulled at his hair until he could see the doctor's horrified expression looking back at him.

"Hope?" The word dripped from his mouth like venom. "There is no hope in taking that. The disease is incurable! There's no point in messing with that fact! What hope is there in waking up every day sick as a diseased dog just so I can tack a few extra years of suffering onto my lifespan? Do you want me to suffer, is that it? Does the Ultimate Neurologist truly believe he can play God? That you can cure a terminal illness? It's embarrassing, you truly don't know when to draw the line, to give up on a piece of human garbage like-!"

"What the fuck would you know about God, you demented freak?!"

Komaeda bit his tongue, a sickening grin forming on his face.

"You think some God is going to sweep you away from this? There is no damn God!" The doctor near screams the words. "There's you, me, and a miserable little pile of pills. You're the one who refuses to see an expert, you're the one who insisted on seeing an 'Ultimate', and yet you refuse to do what you've been told. I don't know why I bother, shit, you can rot in that empty skull of yours for all I care."

By the time he was done with his rant, he'd fallen back into his chair, dejected, out of breath. Komaeda didn't miss the flush on his cheeks, the way his nails dug into his thighs. What a brash display of emotion.

"I never knew you felt so strongly about God, Matsuda-kun." Straightening out his sweater, Komaeda shot the other a wide smile. "I guess it makes sense, you are a man of science, after all."

The doctor did not raise his head, remaining in his hunched over position. He was shaking, fists scrunching the fabric of his pants as he tried to regain his composure, probably to stop himself from jumping across the room and choking Komaeda to death. He thought he would have deserved it at this point.

"Do you really not understand how privileged you are? Are you doing this just to mock me, to make me suffer? I shouldn't have expected any less from Komaeda fucking Nagito," his voice trembled and cracked. "Am I the incompetent one? Should I be coming to your dorm every night and forcing the damn things down your throat? I can't fucking listen to you, I can't stand you. Every time you look at me with that stupid fucking grin on your face it feels like you think this is all a joke. What if you do die? What do you think is gonna happen to the people who love and care about you?"

Komaeda opened his mouth to refute him, but quickly snapped it shut again when a scalpel zipped past his head, lodging itself in the wall behind him with a thwunk. The doctor had raised his head, arm poised with another scalpel in hand and eyes filled with deadly intent as he glared at Komaeda.

"Get the fuck out of my office you ugly bastard."

◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌

Komaeda opens his eyes suddenly, silently.

It's no dramatic waking up from a nightmare, no shooting up out of bed with his lungs burning and chest heaving. Just a sudden realisation that he is awake and that he has been dreaming. Perhaps he was kicked out of Matsuda's office, but how would he know? It was just as possible that he'd risen to his feet and beaten him senseless.

…Matsuda?

It's a familiar name, but not one that belongs to anyone Komaeda knows. "Matsuda-kun. Matsuda… Hope's Peak?"

He mumbles to himself, attempting to make sense of the information thrown at him. They say dreams are pulled from your memories, so why would he have memories from Hope's Peak? Why would he have memories of a person he has never known?

"Matsuda… I called him the Ultimate Neurologist, didn't I?" He asks the question to the darkness of his room. "I wouldn't forget somebody like that, would I?"

Komaeda sits up, pushing his hair back as he brings a hand to his forehead. "Would I?"

Eyes drifting along the covers of his bed, he spots the memory notebook. "I wonder if I should start keeping one too," he chuckles.

[sophfandoms53]

So would you say Dewey and Louie were the most consistently well written characters on Ducktales from start to finish with his arc overall? Considering how others either were not focused enough (Huey, Donald, Della, and LP), had not so good writing in the finale (Scrooge/Webby), and a bit of both (Beakley), those two seems to be the consistent ones.

Anon, honestly, I would love to agree with you about both Dewey and Louie in this regard, unfortunately, there’s a slight issue.

Louie’s character in the sense of his arc was handled very well throughout seasons 1 and 2, and throughout the majority of season 3. However, there are two episodes where Louie’s writing hits a bump in season 3, those two episodes being The Trickening and Fight For Castle McDuck.

Ironically, the two episodes from this season (outside of the finale) that caused the most discussion and uproar in the fandom.

While Trickening doesn’t mishandle Louie’s character as poorly as Fight for Castle McDuck did, it doesn’t change the fact this episode is the source of this writing issue involving Louie’s character, at least where his treatment of Huey is concerned.

Now in these two episodes we see Louie having issue w/ Huey’s planning/schedule tendencies, something Louie is very well aware that his brother does and that it’s a source of comfort for Huey, so it’s a little odd seeing Louie have this sort of animosity towards this rather normal behavior Huey displays.

In Trickening, Louie’s seen mocking Huey’s attachment to the JWG (again something that is a comfort for Huey, and Louie KNOWS that) and then getting extremely upset at Huey for lying about his awareness of the existence of the haunted house and immediately jumping down Huey’s throat about being selfish and for lying (the former is false and absolutely the last thing Huey is, and the latter, while true, Huey had his reasons for why he lied) and while an upset response to Huey lying is a normal reaction, it coming from Louie is a bit odd.

Louie’s anger towards Huey is over a minor harmless lie and could’ve just been solved with a simple “Huey, why did you lie?” and insert Huey’s explanation, but we have an episode length to fill so we gotta have some tension through a misunderstanding and then at the end we can have people finally communicate. As much as I’m being sarcastic, I do really like that scene of Huey and Louie talking and apologizing for their respective actions, and both coming together over their love for each other and for Halloween, the biggest holiday they had together w/ Dewey before going to the mansion, but it is slightly frustrating watching this inorganic Louie vs Huey conflict that is actually handled better in another episode, I’ll get to that later though.

Let’s talk Fight for Castle McDuck, holy crud is this episode a mess. Not even just with Huey and Louie’s plot, but Dewey and Webby’s as well as Scrooge and Matilda’s plots are so unbearable to watch. I rewatched this episode recently and I cannot tell you guys the amount of times I wanted to break my television over practically every single characters behavior in this episode, save for Dewey and Huey who were completely fine in the episode, but everyone else? OH. MY. GOD.

Critiquing the problems on this episode can be a whole discussion in itself, and I might do that, but right now, let’s focus on Louie in this episode.

Louie has the same issue with Huey that he had in Trickening, so essentially it’s a “we’ve done this plot before but let’s do it again except slightly differently” type of plot, nothing wrong with those, except Louie is uncharacteristically mean to Huey throughout the episode, like, borderline how Huey and Dewey treated him in Other Bin mean, and we all know how I feel about Other Bin.

Just at the start of the episode Louie yells at Huey by saying, “No! BAD NERD.” And that’s just a line that doesn’t sit well with me, like Louie, Huey isn’t a dog, there was no need for such a line. And then later when Huey is explaining his plan to find the bagpipes, Louie is dozing off and explains how he’s taking a Huooze, something he does when Huey explains nerd stuff, except Louie’s never done that before or after this episode so that’s always fun. Louie is just not giving off good vibes the entire episode, and I understand the lesson Louie was meant to have is sometimes doing things the easy way isn’t always the best way, and that lesson is fine, but they didn’t need to execute it the way that they did.

Not to mention how this plot, which is completely disconnected to Dewey and Webby’s & Scrooge and Matilda’s plots, suddenly gets dragged into those two plots because this is season 3 where comedy is our passion so let’s have every single character be overly dramatic and insult everyone around them despite us being family and then after everyone’s been absolutely awful to each other, let’s not apologize no, let’s just act like this was a normal lesson in family’s fight but we can work through it and be stronger because of it! AND OH MY GOD NO NONE OF WHAT HAPPENED IN THIS EPISODE WAS A NORMAL FAMILY FIGHT. PLEASE DONT TELL YOUR AUDIENCE OF CHILDREN THIS IS NORMAL.

AND THIS ISNT EVEN SCRATCHING THE SURFACE OF HOW AWFUL WEBBY’S BEHAVIOR IN THE EPISODE WAS AND-

Okay okay, rant for another time, back to Louie.

I bring up Trickening and Fight for Castle McDuck as examples as bumps in Louie’s writing because outside of these episodes, Louie is written rather well and very supportive of both Huey and Dewey’s comfort tendencies, Huey w/ his JWG and Dewey w/ his thirst for attention/validation.

Focusing on season 3 episodes specifically, in Challenge of the Senior-Junior Woodchucks Louie is the only one who actually helps Huey feel better about not having the guidebook with him, he even calls Huey “king-nerd” in a very kind way, then in Lost Harp of Mervana Louie learns from Webby’s optimism that sometimes looking for the best in people isn’t so bad just as Webby learns that sometimes people don’t always have your best interest from Louie, that’s a balance in their dynamic and is done very well, and finally in Rumble for Ragnorak Louie’s behavior is reliant solely on knowing Dewey his whole life and exactly how his brother is going to react when being put in front of a crowd, and because of how well Louie knows Dewey, when his older brother is doubting himself, Louie has learned the best way to get Dewey back to himself by telling him “Let’s Dewey it.”

Louie’s grown a lot and he understands his family incredibly well, so seeing that aspect of him disappear in two episodes, while minor, still sucks in the sense of character consistency.

There is an episode from season 3 that does this conflict between Huey and Louie really well and it’s Let’s Get Dangerous, the reason being: Louie doesn’t mock Huey in this episode for his JW tendencies or questions, instead, Louie just straight up tells Huey that not everything has be a problem or a mystery, which ironically leads to Huey discovering the problem with Bulba’s machine and that it was part of a lost mystery that Finch was searching for. That’s exactly how Louie should react when he feels Huey’s want for answers can get in the way of him getting a quick fortune. Not mocking his brother for comfort tendencies he is well aware his brother has.

Overall, Louie has been well written throughout the series but we can’t ignore how the writing for him in both Trickening and Fight for Castle McDuck mess up his rather solid consistency.

Now Dewey’s character arc and development can also be an entire post like this as well as I genuinely feel, favorite character bias aside, Dewey is the best written character in the entire series, and I mean that from a writers and critic’s perspective.

But like I said, that can be a whole other discussion.

[prince-toffee]

Alleyways

Hordak x Shadow Weaver

Canon Divergence | Alt Universe

Season One | Episode 14: Alleyways

Beatrix scoffed and threw the brown ration bar and the rest of her food tray across the prison cell, she far preferred the grey ones. She gave a defeated sigh lowering her head down. She rubbed her fingers over the scratched part of her mask, in the spot where a chip of the Black Garnet used to reside. Her shoulders slouched down, all tension in her muscles left her as she gave up. She felt so powerless. So weak. Just a few days ago she was still one of the most powerful witches on the planet, every magic user feared her name.

Shadow Weaver.

Now, she sat in a prison cell, rank-less. She didn’t know if she should’ve felt honoured, or disgusted by the fact that the cell was specially attuned and adjusted for her specifically. Which meant it was probably designed and constructed, in secret, long before her treason. This place was full of secrets and surprises, usually unpleasant ones. Hec-Tor would’ve probably said it was an honour, he was an architect that truly thought of everything. And The Fright Zone was one of his most haunting creations.

Beatrix wasn’t disgusted, per say. She knew she didn’t have many fans, and plenty of enemies at every corner. This outcome was inevitable, she knew deep down she was getting too greedy for her own good. But the power felt too good to give up. What a fool she was. She saw it all clearly now. Where her addiction led her. Her very unsubtle disregard for orders, her greed peering through her emotionless, cold stature. She knew she was on thin ice with Hec-Tor, the control freak he was. He desired order and expected subordinance. He always disliked her - everybody back home knew she was a wildcard, deceptive, insidious. Looking out for only herself - she never really cared about the cause.

Perhaps she should’ve been more surprised that he didn’t do it earlier. She knew he wasn’t fond of her, and vice versa of course - she couldn’t stand his patriotic and prideful attitude. Acting as if being apart of The Horde was a gift from god. He was an old blind fool. Beatrix wouldn't have thought twice before leaving this place and selling her loyalty and inside information to the most welcoming bidder - The Alliance, or even maybe try her luck with The Empire of Talon Mountain. So any choices to choose from, now if only she could manage to escape her imprisonment.

Unfortunately, if she knew Hec-Tor, and she did, The Hordak had probably thought of every possibility of escape she would think of, and countered it. He was paranoid like that. The spherical pure white containment cell she was unceremoniously thrown into was made out of Glowmoon-Dwarfstone, the surface layer anyway. A magical element only found on one of the moons of Etheria, able to absorb darkness itself. Bad news for the Weaver of Shadows, she was powerless here. She despised feeling weak, vulnerable. She was meant to be the predator, not the prey.

She had no shadow. The stone absorbed it. She felt two dimensional. She didn’t know if that made sense, but she heard the stone had negative effects on the mind if in close proximity for too long. Speaking of which, she had no idea how long she had been locked up, she lost the track of time. No windows. So no sky. No clock. No space. The spherical cell was the size of a small closet. At least they were still feeding her, but the food in there was never anything to gloat about.

She placed her face into her hands, she was loosing it. She couldn’t break! But she was close. She didn’t want anyone to have the satisfaction of seeing her beg, and pled. She was strong, stronger than them. She was going to win in the end, she just had to wait it out, play the long ga-

“Inmate-667. Place your forehead on the wall behind you and position your hands behind your back. The containment unit door will open, and a commanding official will commence your questioning. And Weaver, you’re gonna like this one, hehe.”

Beatrix narrowed her eyes and growled at the announcement. She recognised the voice, Force-Commander Grizzlor. She never liked him. The feeling was seemingly mutual. She did as she was ordered. A groan reverberated through her throat, she knew exactly what this was, she could tell from Grizzlor’s smug voice. Catra. She was back to berate her. It seemed like her former ward’s ego had grown three times the size, rather than her heart. Beatrix dreaded these visits. Catra came over from time to time, to insult and demean the dark sorceress, rub her victory into Beatrix’s face. Insolent little brat! She got lucky! Beatrix was weak when she caught her off guard, too drained by the toll the Black Garnet’s power took on her. If only- if only she could take hold of the Garnet’s power! S- She didn’t need much, just a little, it would’ve cleared her mind, beat her heart faster. If she had just a little more she could’ve had taken out Catra, and her two stooges. Everything would have been all better if only she had a little more. Damn that girl! And her mother!

The cell opened up. A side panel gave out a hiss as it dislodged, pulled out and off to the side. Weaver felt the colder air pour in. The closest shadow cast onto her was too weak for her to do anything with, the upper layer of the walls draining it’s ethereal cosmic weight. Or perhaps she was the one who was too weak. Catra loomed over her. The teen thought she could intimidate her, not a chance.

“Well? Come on then, you spoiled brat! Got anything to say? Came here to gloat and mock me, you think you have won, but one wrong move with Hordak and he’ll throw you to the dogs, he’s-”

“Weaver.”

The sorceress silenced herself. The voice that called to her was cold and smooth, in other words not Catra’s. The single word was followed by a pair of footsteps, metal boots clanking against the stone’s surface. The sound of cybernetics hissing as his joins moved. He was close now. The cell entrance slide back into place closing the cell. They were alone now. Beatrix had to admit, even though she knew Hec-Tor for most of her life, seen him at his most vulnerable, even shared some intimate moments with him, but still even after all that - he was terrifying.

She turned her head around, and there he was. He looked different in the light, stranger. She almost never saw him outside of his ThroneHall. Always cloaked in darkness and smoke. She sometimes wondered if he bought smoke machines on purpose to scare any kids that would accidently wonder into the room. Hec-Tor certainly had a taste for the dramatic. Beatrix turned around and seated herself comfortably looking up at the Overlord, well, as comfortably as possible. There he was, in all his glory, out of shadows - a glorified toaster. The same Hec-Tor that used to write poetry for girls that would never go out with him. The same Hec-Tor that dyed his hair blue, because kids from the neighbourhood made fun of him being ginger. The same Hec-Tor that beat his own father within an inch of his life, and conquered half of the galaxy...

Same old, same old.

She swallowed down quietly, she couldn’t show him she was weak. The mask helped hide most emotions, most weaknesses, she had to control the rest of her body language. Beatrix lifted one leg over the other and intertwined her fingers together, giving off a relaxed posture.

“Lord Hordak. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She looked over him - blood red eyes, and teeth, grey skin, military regulation hair cut, his two prostatic arms, which could crush boulders, his imperial purple cape, and the neon lit armour implants. She was actually curious as to what he was actually going to say. His eyes narrowed, anger was apparent, but an air of irritation was present too. He gave out a long tiresome sigh, as he moved his fingers to rub the bridge of his nasal cavity, even venturing as far as his eyes. She was in for it.

“Why? Why can’t you just follow orders? Beatrix Hallows, always struggling with adhering to reason and common sense.”

Shadow Weaver’s eyes widened she couldn’t believe what she was hearing, he actually had the audacity to school her, to talk down to her. This was almost worse than Catra, hearing her full name spoken out in a mocking tone, like lecturing a child, slapping them on the hand, this was humiliating. And from Hec-Tor too. When angered by her he’d usually give her the cold shoulder, take her off a mission, reassign command to someone else, like Catra. She thought he had given up on talking to her ages ago. But she wasn’t going to have it.

“Having fun? Look you’re not covering any new ground here. Catra already had multiple pitstops here to make me her new donkey. If you think you get to insult me like that, just remember your punk rear wouldn’t have made it back home if it weren’t there for me. You owe me. Several.”

It was true. Back on HordeWorld, back on the streets. They had nothing. Had to rummage through trash, and steal for food. Stomach empty all day. Times were tough. They had to rely on each other. One distracted the passer-by and the other pickpocketed, on a lucky day, thanks to Hec-Tor’s puppy eyes the stranger would hand them some pennies on top of that. But man, on days like these she wished she had never stood up to those bullies shoving little young Hec-Tor around, should have never allowed him to follow her. But how couldn’t she, he was so adorable.

“I am not here to appoint you my personal laughing stock. And I thought I told Catra talking to prisoners was forbidden. I’ll have a chat with her about the regulations... I am here to understand. Finally. I have been putting this off for far too long.”

This was curious, and unexpected. She would’ve lied if she said she wasn’t interested in what was about to exit that mouth. He had avoided her for years. Often said she was ‘not worth wasting words on’. The feeling was mutual. She heard that mouth declare rousing speeches, bone-chilling monologues, and the softest of kisses. Versatility was everything. He continued.

“We never saw eye to eye, never liked each other, you always went your own way. Chose to differ from others, always take the other path. You talk back to me, you waste resources on personal escapades, and often break protocol... But back there, at such a crucial point, disobeying my orders, for what? Just because of a child that did follow orders?”

Putting faith in that girl was going to be his undoing. Unless she was going to get to him first. Catra was always a nuisance, untrustworthy, going off on her own, not listening to what she was told. She had a rebellious spirit, that drove her away from Weaver’s lessons, she often managed to drag others away with her. She was too smart for her own good.

She’ll be biting down on Hec-Tor’s ankles soon enough. She supposed that an upside of being stuck in the cell was that he had to deal with Catra’s antics now. That was his mess to clean.

“How did she even get a drop on you? Was it the Garnet? I told you to tell me if the artefact displayed any negative effects-”

“Are you done? I know you didn’t come here to talk about my feelings. If you care to know your magic weapon is fine. And Catra. She’s nothing but a brat, that you’re letting walk all over you.”

She wasn’t having any of this, she had to speak up for herself. Call it a warning, that girl is not to be dismissed, she’s trouble - like her mother. But deep down she felt a hint of embarrassment herself, she was one of the most powerful sorceresses, years ago when she first drained the power of the Garnet she did it effortlessly. Even though Hec-Tor didn’t trust her, he handed her the responsibility, because he knew she was the only one who could hold its power. He knew she was mighty. But now, the Garnet rejects her, resists her, no longer bows down to her might. It hurt sometimes. But she could never show weakness.

The infamous Hordak stared down at her, judgementally, much like how he looked down at everybody. He looked off to the side at the thrown away tray, mashed potato and peas smeared on the floor, tray flipped over, and the brown rations crumbled on the floor.

“You’re not eating.”

What was that? She wondered to herself. Was that genuine worry? She noticed he stayed on the ration bars for a second too long, noting her preference perhaps. He seemingly had no idea where to go from there, so she helped him out, she asked.

“Why are you here Hec-Tor?”

This time using his real name rather than his title. More personal, it cut to the point. Plus he was always going to be Hec-Tor to her. That puppy eyed scaredy-bat, the one always picked on, by bullies twice his weight, the nerd allergic to flowers, and the same geek that used to write poems for her. She dismissed them of course, just a bunce of nonsense if you’d ask her. The change never really quite settled in, even when the Council made the public announcement of picking the new Hordak. Even when Hec-Tor’s face came on every screen on the planet. Even when the death of He-Ro shocked the nation. Nothing changed.

Well, maybe not until that day at Vix’s Diner. It was the strangest circumstance. He was the one who called her over. She guessed it was just a nostalgic meet up, like in the old days. 'The Hordak' was present, so they ate for free. Their conversation would be constantly interrupted by randos bowing and giving respects to him. He dismissed them.

But there was something different about the man that sat in front of her, he was colder, more stiff. Beatrix treated herself to the unlimited free breakfast meals, best she’d eaten in years. She half listened to his ramblings, something about the war with the Light and the Ones Who Won’t Be Named escalating, the Council was abolishing anti-terraforming laws, and Horde warships were launching on the offensive against the enemy. The wannabe poet gone, all that was left of the boy was a patriot, and a soldier. Well, what do you do? That’s what the government spoon feeds people.

But the strangest thing was. He asked her to be his 'Weaver' - his second in command. An honour placed apon only those who are seen as worthy, or chosen by the Council. But this wasn’t an ask of desperation or of fear. This was an order. Firm, and powerful. That day in the diner, if Beatrix would’ve refused him, she didn’t know if she would’ve walked out of there with her head on.

The Hordak is no mere man you can refuse after all.

He is the 'Beast of HordeWorld'.

And so, they set off. Boarded the warship: Annihilation, and rocketed into the stars. And the newly appointed Shadow Weaver pondered, that it was quite curious that HordeWorld was completely decimated only few days after they left. Curious indeed. Blah. Blah. Blah. Couple of thousand years, some food shortages and dead bodies later: Etheria. Crash landing in the back fields of King Niro’s Kingdom of Scorpion Hill. And it was through Weaver’s highly skilled dark magic on display, that the kingdoms bowed down to them, Mysticore even building a statue in her honour. They looked up to her, marvelled at her magical abilities. Her Horde magic was far more advanced than what the wizards held in their possession. She taught, and trained them. But good things never last. They turned on her.

“Like I said, Beatrix. I am here to understand.”

Now it was his time to use her name. She was still curious yet cautious. Whatever side-tracks Hec-Tor from the main mission, can’t be good. All this was strangely personal. Was the Beast in fact capable of concern and closeness? She let him continue.

“We’ve known each other longer than most beings live. But in my quest into the unknown, I never even dared to explore what was nearest me. Tell me, why break, why snap at me at a point of victory? And why, why the girl? It’s that Magicat that sets you off at every moment. Why? Why do you hate the girl?”

“Will, you free me?”

“...No. We both know I won’t, I can’t. It is against the protocols, and I gave you too many passes, vouched for you too many times, I overlooked your actions for too long. And that’s why I am here.”

Well, that wasn’t going to work. No freedom, no deal, no talking. She was surprised by the fact that this entire situation was simply a genuine attempt at a heart to heart. But he knew nothing. And that’s how Beatrix liked to keep things. Much like Hec-Tor, she wished to be a bogeyman, imagination was always the greatest deterrent.

And what was there to explain? Catra was a pain, undisciplined, and unwilling to learn. Beatrix wasn’t about to just let that brat walk over her, of course she snapped! Everything Catra got, every punishment, was because she deserved it. Though... no. No, he couldn’t know. Could he? Did he? Hec-Tor was a master tactician and strategist, he always researched and analysed everything before the attack - what if the Beast already knew the answer to his own question?

Did he know about Melendy?

Beatrix never spoke to anyone about her personal life, especially not her love life. And she had made sure she was back for check-ins, erased her tracks, she was sneaky. She didn’t slip up often. How would he know? Could it be? Was the grand Lord Hordak jealous? A curious stalker.

But perhaps it wasn’t that outside of the realm of possibly. The Queen of Magicats. The Lord of the Horde. Hec-Tor set up many negotiations in the time before the war, people talk.

And what now, he expected her to sit here listen to him give her therapy? As if. If that bastard knew about Melendy’s choice... about her leaving, and didn’t say anything, just holding it over her head as bait - then damn him to the Light! But did he truly know? He couldn’t possibly understand. She was in love. Nothing ever came close to making her feel like that. Not even him. Beatrix loved her, and she chose to leave, just because of tradition, culture. To Light with it!

But what prompted him to care? Perhaps he looked back fondly on the past, reminiscing? Hordak and her didn’t sleep together often, but when the duty became too much, too stressful - they aided each other to settle the nerve. Heh, it took practice to get used to each other, their first time, wasn’t pretty.

She still remembered that night, or well, it was day actually. She always misremembered, since the skies over the city of Catrax were always grey from the city’s pollution. Kids used to come over to their windows and watch the rare instances when sunshine would penetrate the dark clouds above. Very little hope shone down on the people of the lower levels. But the kids of the higher levels, the ones on the first floor, above the clouds, they had all the sunshine they wanted, and took it all for granted.

So when Beatrix and Hec-Tor pickpocketed and stole a little, just to keep living, just to have. It wasn’t that selfish. When the two crash landed on Etheria for the first time they ventured throughout the land, claiming everything they could, stealing and conquering, taking - just to have. Just because they couldn’t in previous lives.

On that day, after Beatrix stole old Mister Scurvy’s wallet as Hec-Tor distracted him, they both ran off away from the yelling man. Ran faster than they ever ran before, too afraid that the man’s screaming would attract the attention of any local law enforcement, if they got them, it was Confinement for sure, no matter that they were teens.

She huffed and panted so hard she almost fell off her own feet. She had to lean herself on the side of a brick wall in the alleyway she ran into. Just as Hec-Tor joined her, the rain began to pour. He bowed down, arms holding his knees, trying to support his upper body. His ears tilted down. His exhausted cough turning into a cackling laugh, which clearly infected Beatrix since she burst into laughter with him. She didn’t really know how it happened, but he got closer to her, with her pinned against the wall, looking straight into each other’s eyes. As their chuckles settled, her hand ventured down to his hip as her lips made their way to his own. And then, well, they were teenagers, you know what else.

Good memories.

Perhaps memories were just the advantage she needed, perhaps Hordak didn’t despise her as much as she had previously thought. Could it be? The All-Mighty Lord of The Horde feeling... lonely?

“Do you remember the alleyway?”

“Eh, there were... many alleyways.”

True that, after it felt so good, the first time, it sort of became a daily routine for them. Partners with benefits. They used each other to feel better, to feel something. There was nothing between the two, or so Beatrix thought. But perhaps she was wrong yet again. She wished to test that.

She took off her mask. The Weaver mask was a totemic symbol back on HordeWorld - representing strength and authority. And underneath that mask, was a woman. A broken woman, with scars and stiches, missing flesh. Something many would call a monster. But Hec-Tor Kur of House Kur saw nothing but beauty. A magnificent beast that saved him many a times. The girl he fell for so long ago. And Beatrix knew that, knew it was the moment she locked her toxic waste green eyes with his blood red, which shimmered in the light of the cell. She knew straight away, his weakness.

“Look at me, Hec-Tor. So frail. I wasted away. So little of me left... The Council was right. No matter what power I aim to tame, I fail, I never amounted to anything, like they predicted. I know you’re disappointed to have me as a partner on this venture... But… I miss the alleyways. When we had nothing. Back when so little felt like so much.”

It worked. The seemingly cold and calculated persona cracked. His facial expression changed, from irritation, and anger to a certain softness, maybe pity. He breathed in heavy, and out through the nose. He took a step closer to her. The cell was a snug fit so his leg was already brushing hers.

“We do have nothing, Beatrix. We are the last of our kind. We have little, but we can have it all. You are not a failure. We are not failures. There is a reason why I haven’t just simply executed you like a common thug... I miss those days too. But we still have time.”

The Hordak kneeled down, lowered himself to be closer to her. This was it - the moment of truth. He clearly had no idea what to do with his hands, so one rubbed its thumb and pointing finger together in anticipation, while the other hovered in the air half open awaiting her permission to proceed. The Weaver of Shadows accepted it, took hold of the old vampire’s hand into her own, intertwining their talons. Old scared skin taking comfort in one another, something familiar, in an unfamiliar world.

“We will have our people back. We will terraform this miserable planet! And we will be the new gods of a new utopia... And... though we never seem to see eye to eye... even if all it was, was physical, there is no one I would rather stand with and watch this world transform into hope, because you are my partner. This is our mission.”

Beatrix was the first to move forward. And Hec-Tor quickly followed suit, he closed his eyes and opened his fanged mouth. And the blissful moment was brief, but glorious, the space bat even let a pleasing hum escape him. And perhaps Beatrix would’ve let it go on longer, it wasn’t often that she had pleasures like these. But this situation was dire, and also, she was really tired of looking at the same white walls all day. She decided she earned herself a little walk to stretch her legs.

Hordak knew there was something wrong - his mouth became colder, and something wriggled inside that made him choke on his own breaths. Shadow Weaver rose up, straightening her legs completely, while Hordak bent down, onto his knees. The Dwarf Stone absorbed all darkness present on all surfaces, rendering her powerless, but the magic stone’s reach was limited. Cause Hordak’s entire inside of his body was nothing but darkness - so many shadows coating all of his vulnerable entrails and organs. She wasn’t going to paralyse him permanently, she wasn’t that cruel - just because of their history, she could show mercy.

Hec-Tor’s face pale and sick, his body limp, blood pooling around his organs, he fell on the floor. Shadow Weaver took a good long heavy breath, perfect. She placed the mask back over her face, and approached the wall of the cell through which Hec-Tor entered. Firmly placed her palms on the stone and pushed against the wall. The ethereal shadows twisted and morphed and drilled into the wall, she didn’t have much time. Every second the walls drained away the shadows, Hec-Tor had very little left in him, and the bright magic of the material weakened her, so little strength was left in her.

But there it was, the sound of the stone cracking. She wormed her fingers into the crack, enlarging it, chipping on it. The rock crumbled down, exposing the metallic layer underneath it. That was it, her window of opportunity. She commanded the shadows to bore into the mechanisms, and the shadow beast tore the panel wide open. The steel bending and ripping was extremely satisfying. Weaver loved the look on Grizzlor’s face as he took in what just happened. The witch made quick work of him, throwing him off to the side with the dark mass. She sighed in relief, she wasn’t free yet, but she had plenty of material to work with. The shadows from smallest corner to the largest corridor converged around her, swirling like a vortex.

“Now this is something I can work with.”

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 23

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, car accident

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Thank you for continuing to read this! If you enjoyed it, please reblog it so others can see and leave me feedback or send me an ask! I love to read your thoughts about this couple and their world <3 :)

; Flower Masterpost

-

"You're cute. Aren't you so cute. Yes you are!" Hoseok coos to the little girl on the floor in front of him. He's sitting cross legged while the nine-month old baby girl is laid on a play mat in front of him, giggling wildly as your boyfriend tickles her stomach with fingers and a beaming smile.

Even for someone who has zero interest in ever having kids, even you can't deny the flutter of interest you experience as you watch him. His tattoos are prominent beneath his short sleeved tee, black hair pushed back and from this angle you can see his lip ring too. Everything that makes him look big and intimidating to those who don't know him.

And yet there he is, completely taken by little Hana in a yellow and white dress with cute bees sewn all over it. Which is nothing compared to the adorably high pitched voice he’s talking to her with, very reminiscent of how he talks to Kasumi.

You look over at Amelia, the mommy of said little girl, and smile at her in amusement at Hoseok's antics. Despite having met his friends a few times over the months, this was the first time that you’d actually met and talked to Amelia. Her late term pregnancy had prevented it initially, and then after that it had been that she’d been too busy taking care of Hana.

Namjoon had been missing frequently in the past nine months as well, but you knew that Hoseok thought very highly of Amelia and approved of her for his oldest friend. Which meant that you'd been a little worried that she wouldn't like you or anything. Especially when you found out that Hana would be here too.

"He adores her," Amelia says with a grin, nodding over at the two and you take a moment to simply watch as Hoseok lifts Hana up and holds her in his arms. "Uncle Hobi, he was so excited when we told him that we were pregnant."

"He's good with her." You say simply, continuing to watch him and feeling the ever familiar pang of anxiety run through you. He is good with her. Maybe too good, and you suddenly worry that maybe he wants kids in the future.

You'd put on the app that you didn't, but that hadn't been a question that Hoseok's profile showed. And it simply hadn't come up since. Mainly because...well you just didn’t think about kids. They never entered your head because you had zero interest in them. Now suddenly, you were realising that maybe that had been a faux pas.

Given that he was the only child of his parents now, it would make sense for him to want kids. Carry on his family name, pass on his heritage and give his parents grandchildren that they could dote on and love upon. He was the only one left in his family to do that after all. And he was evidently good with them, as you could see.

Would he be angry when he found out you never wanted them? Maybe even break up with you? Kids were a deal breaker, you knew that. 

You would never agree to them. The maternal instinct that some women had, like Amelia had, just didn’t exist in you. You never looked at a child or baby and thought about wanting one in the future. Instead, you just looked at them and shuddered at the very thought. The idea of having to spend eighteen years minimum raising another person was horrifying to you.

All the money that you could’ve used for vacations or things you enjoyed gone, the time you could’ve spent on yourself or with your partner, gone. There was nothing worse you could personally imagine, not to mention the fact that you just didn’t like kids. You didn’t get on with them, you didn’t understand them, they were germ machines and you always wanted to cringe when you saw parents cleaning up the bodily fluids, and more, that kids produced.

As a result, you’d decided many years ago that being a parent simply wasn’t for you and it was never going to be for you. Not only did you have no interest, but you didn’t want to bring a child into the world just because you felt pressured from your partner. You didn’t like kids, but that didn’t mean you felt it was fair for a kid to grow up knowing their mother never wanted them.

Uneasiness bubbled as you silently watched him, potential futures shattering in your mind already. You're distracted though by Amelia's hand as it rests on your arm lightly, the shriek of annoyance from Jimin's fiance, Eden, causing you to jerk in alarm as you’re brought out of your reverie.

"You can hold her if you want. I don't mind. She's very sociable. I think I got lucky with one of those blessedly sweet babies." She has an endearing look on her face that softens into that look of pure love that parents get for their kids. You wonder what it is about babies that does that to some people.

Brow rising, you look back and watch Hana closely for a moment. She's fully delighted by the playfulness of your boyfriend and you smile at her bright grin, noting for a moment how much she looks like her dad. His little girl was going to grow up with his dimples at the very least.

"Ah...don't take this the wrong way, but I don't really...get along with kids. She's cute though. I’m just...not comfortable?" You add on hastily, raising a hand to try and ward off any anger that Amelia might feel towards your comment. Parents got funny when people said they didn't like kids, as if it were a personal insult or something.

There were certainly kids out there that you would happily turn it into an insult, but Hana was too adorable for that. Even if you were slightly endeared by her, but you had no intention of getting close to her.

"Oh? Not a kid person?" Amelia grins broadly, hand covering her mouth as she lets out a laugh that's soft. Her husband appears suddenly, resting a hand on her shoulder before kissing her forehead gently and sitting next to her.

He gives you a polite smile and nod of the head before looking between you both with a questioning glance. "You don't like kids?"

The question is a bit louder than you would have liked, and you feel the familiar rush of heat and sickness as all attention moves to you. Oh no, this was not how you wanted Hoseok to find out. Or anyone. Like you said, people got funny about stuff like this.

It was even worse in this environment, as Hoseok was having to find out your complete lack of interest in children in front of all of his friends. This could be his relationship literally falling apart while they watched on.

Swallowing thickly, your hands play nervously together as you look between them all before giving a weak smile. "I mean...I d-don't hate them. I just...it's hard to explain. I don't...I cant get along with them. I don't...know how to get on their level. I feel stupid playing, I just cant do it and...well it makes me uncomfortable to try."

There's silence for a moment, broken only by the gurgling laughter of Hana and you slowly look up at Hoseok, dread coursing through your body. Only he's not looking at you in disgust.

The crease between his brows says something else entirely, and you watch as he shuffles over, Hana still firmly in his arms before he rests a hand on your knee and gives you a warm smile. His hand is hot on you, yet the reassurance he sends silently makes your eyes sting with unwashed tears as you look down.

"There's nothing wrong with that. It's the 21st century. Some people want to be parents and some don't. Don't feel ashamed of it! Own it. I wanted kids but power to you if you don't." Amelia said with a bright grin, arms held out as she accepts her daughter once more.

"Yeah, think of all the vacations we can go on. Games we can buy, cats...other stuff I can't think of." Hoseok's nose wrinkles as he tries to think and you let out a soft breath of laughter, running your fingers through his hair.

His hand squeezes slightly and you smile in gratitude, recognising that there's probably going to be a conversation about this later. Which is fine. It's something that you'd expect and you wouldn't want to leave him unsure as to where he stood in regards to this.

Looking back at Amelia and Hana, you can't help the soft laugh that leaves you as you watch Namjoon pull faces at his daughter. The man is the loving example of a gentle giant and your experience in his presence previously has shown you that he can be just a little bit of a klutz. He's awfully sweet though, with a bashful smile and always willing to help no matter what it is.

You think Amelia got a good one there, watching them both grin at each other as Hana let out a high pitched giggle that had all of you smiling. They made a great family, and you looked down at Hoseok to see him watching them both too.

Feeling your gaze on him, he looks up and runs his hand along your thigh slowly. It's not a sexual gesture, purely comforting and you relax into his touch. In response, you continue to comb your fingers through his thick, dark hair and enjoy the way he leans into you, a quiet hum leaving him.

"Don't worry though. I may not be comfortable with kids but I do recognise when they're cute. And Hana is adorable, she really is." You say to them as you turn back, watching as their faces light up with parental pride. It was funny how easy it was to boost the ego of a parent. Just compliment their child and it's like they've won the lottery.

Not that you were doing it purely to appease them. You were being honest. You hated being around kids, despised the mess they made, but it didn't stop you from occasionally finding babies and young kids cute. They had their sweet moments, but you'd never be convinced to have one.

Kasumi was more than enough for you. Although maybe another cat...or two. 

Namjoon thanks you quietly, his eyes focused on Hana as he takes her and rests her on his chest. She's nine months old, which means that she's not exactly small anymore. And yet she looks tiny in his arms.

You can't help but coo at the sight, causing Hoseok to snort at you. He just shakes his head in amusement when you scowl down at him, kissing your knee affectionately with a bright smile and you flick his ear softly. You may not have any inclination to have kids but dammit, there was something about seeing big, attractive men holding babies that was appealing.

"It'll be Jimin and Eden's turn next!" Jungkook chortles from the floor, his phone firmly in his hand as he plays some stupid game on it. The couple in question both turn and give him a glare, Eden even going so far as to give a slight hiss at the younger man.

"Shut up Kook. He's gotta marry me first. And then I need that promotion. Or a pay rise. With the way my job is going, the planet will have died by the time that happens." She grumbles, poking at Jimin's side and grinning as he lets out a high pitched giggle, body folding over until he almost falls off his seat.

“I’m gonna make the cutest babies though. Watch out everyone. When you look as cute as me, you’ve got no chance.” Jimin says when he finally stops, laughter makes his voice breathy before he looks at everyone and smiles sweetly, pressing a finger into the dimple of each cheek. Smiling, you can’t help but acknowledge that he really is cute.

But it evidently doesn’t go that way with his friends though. Hoseok starts it, making an overly exaggerated retching noise and holding his throat before he pretends to gag repeatedly. This is then followed by Jungkook and Taehyung imitating him while Yoongi sniggers to the side, hand pressing into his mouth to hide his gummy smile.

“Excuse me, but I think you’ll find that Namjoon evidently makes the cutest babies out of you all. And there’s proof right here.” Amelia interrupts their hijinks with a smug smile, leaning against Namjoon and looking down at Hana with an equally soft and fond look.

There’s a moment of silence as everyone looks at each other before Seokjin snorts, rolling his eyes and leaning back. “Well, that’s not fair is it? You can’t use physical proof when none of us have had a chance to prove you wrong. And anyway, as the most handsome member of this entire friend group...I think you’ll find the cutest baby award is going to go to me and my future beau.” 

“Shut up Seokjin.” Yoongi says bluntly, causing everyone to laugh at the sudden rebuke to Seokjin’s burst of confidence. Over the months being with Hoseok, you’d come to know his friends personalities a little more and you still found it fascinating that they all worked well with each other. Seokjin in particular was fascinating, with his seemingly never ending reservoir of self-confidence boosting him through any awkward situations.

Though you had more than a slight suspicion that he wasn’t actually that big headed or confident, but you knew that some people believed it was good to fake it till you make it. And he seemed to be doing well, so you certainly were not going to be the one to call him out on that. If anything, you admired him and wished that you had the courage to be that bold.

The conversation carries on after that, meandering through a ridiculous number of topics. You’d become used to it by this point and if anything, your own random nature when it came to conversation helped to increase the absurdity of what you talk about. Which is why you all end up discussing what kind of fantasy world you wish you could actually live in.

You’d maintained that it would be cool to be able to have magic and dragons, but then Seokjin had pointed out that you’d probably end up like an NPC in Skyrim and get eaten or randomly killed in some stupid accident. That had slightly altered your opinion, though you’d pointed out that you’d obviously be the hero of the story.

It had been firmly abandoned though when Hoseok had told you that it would mean no electricity, no running water and no internet. Which meant no Netflix, no toilets and no showers. That had made you pause more than anything, causing your eyes to widen and face to grimace until he was laughing hard.

You could handle no Netflix, they’d have books after all, but no toilets and showers is most certainly a no in your view. Which is why you swiftly change worlds to a science fiction world instead. Toilets, showers, internet and more in that world.

Throughout all of the conversations though, you could tell that Hoseok was happy and content with his situation. He spent most of the time leaning against your legs while you played with his hair, running your fingers through the soft black strands affectionately and enjoying how his mere presence had become such a calming influence on you.

Unfortunately though, over the months of dating him you’d discovered that while he loved having his hair played with, it was also a quick way to get him drowsy. Which was why his head was resting against your thigh heavily, his responses getting slower every time.

Bending over until your lips are brushing against that soft hair, you kiss his temple before running your fingers over his forehead. “Hey...do you want to go? You’re practically falling asleep.” 

There’s no response for a second before Hoseok murmurs, stretching out and making the strangest noises as he does so, his arms pushing out before he sits back bonelessly and looks back up at you. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

You’d both spent a few hours out and it was a novel concept for you to be the one asking Hoseok if he wanted to leave. Even more novel that he’d said yes, but you didn’t point that out, instead just saying your goodbyes to everyone and waiting for Hoseok to say his own before heading out.

Getting into your car, you turn on the engine and wait for him to finish belting himself in before smiling over at him. You’d driven over this time and you were both going back to your place for the night, letting Hoseok have the novelty of being a passenger. Apparently he’d been the designated driver for most events for years now, wanting to make sure everyone else was taken care of if they were going somewhere that required someone to drive.

It felt nice, normal even as you drove back home. Namjoon and Amelia lived around 20 minutes away from your apartment, meaning that you both got to enjoy the peace of just listening to music. The playlist was now an odd mix of metal, pop and indie. When it had become apparent that your relationship was getting more serious, and the two of you spent more time in a car together, you’d both spent a good two hours bickering over what should be on the official ‘driving playlist’ that you now both had on your Spotify accounts.

Some of the songs he endured, Hoseok really was not a fan of Ariana Grande or Ed Sheeran, whereas some of the songs you grit your teeth through. You could probably happily go the rest of your life never listening to another Metallica song.

Which you were convinced personally offended Hoseok on an atomic level.

But you put up with it for him, because he put up with your music too. Even sang along on occasion. He just had to have a lovely singing voice too, but he’d complimented your own many times when you’d sung under your breath quietly.

Despite that, you bite your lip as your fingers tap on the steering wheel, not even taking in the sounds of Ed Sheeran crooning through the speakers. His car was newer than yours, but you still found her reliable. Even if she occasionally seemed to be on the brink of breaking down.

That’s not what you’re thinking about though. Instead...it’s the conversation from earlier in the day that won’t leave your mind. The conversation about children. Hoseok had taken your admission well, but part of you wondered if that was just because he was surrounded by his closest friends and he didn’t want to start something that could potentially be an argument.

But you wanted to make sure. You wanted to have a serious conversation with him about it. Children were a big thing, an important thing to think about in relationships and they changed lives. They cost money and time and affection, and you knew that relationships in which one person saw children in their future and the other didn’t wouldn’t work out well.

If Hoseok genuinely wanted kids, then you just couldn’t see the relationship going any further. And despite as strongly as you felt for him already, you just couldn’t put yourself through the pain of falling further for him only to know that he would want something you couldn’t give him. Wouldn’t give him.

Because there was nothing that would get you to have kids. Not even Hoseok.

You needed to talk with him, even if the very thought of it terrifies you. Because you didn’t have intimate, deep conversations like this with people most of the time. And the idea of him saying something that you wouldn’t agree with was painful. You’d gotten so comfortable with him, the possibility of him not being there anymore was already hurting your chest.

“So...err...earlier...I mean...you know when you were playing...with Hana,” You start, gripping the wheel tighter as you start to feel hot yet cold at the same time. Licking your lips, you swallow again and wish you had a drink suddenly. “And I..err..I said that...about kids. Erm, I need...I want...I mean...do you want kids?”

The question is almost meek after all the stopping and starting you’d just done, coming out quick yet fast as you almost hope he doesn’t hear. But he does. You can tell he does by the way he looks at you, glancing at him quickly out of the corner of your eye before turning back to face the road.

He takes a deep breath before taking your free hand, twining your fingers and stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. You’re thankful that he’s obviously taking this seriously and not just blurting out an answer he thinks you might want, or just blurting out something without considering what he’s saying.

“I’m sorry you had to say that in front of them all. You shouldn’t have had to explain that. I felt bad that you were put on the spot like that. But to answer you...no I don’t want kids. And I was actually super fucking relieved when you said you don’t want them either.” Silence falls between you then, only the soft music filtering through the speakers and the engine of the car audible.

He doesn’t want kids. Hoseok doesn’t want kids either. You don’t want them. Your futures were actually compatible with each other. For a few moments, your mind shorts out almost as you consider that. 

“Why?” Falls from your lips before you realise, and you widen your eyes immediately after, glancing at him with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer if it’s personal. Ignore m-”

“It’s okay. I think my girlfriend is definitely the one person I can explain why I don’t want kids. Your reason is perfectly fine by the way, I’m being serious. There’s nothing wrong in just not wanting to be a parent. I don’t hugely get the fascination in losing all my time and money and energy onto this tiny person who suddenly becomes the most important person in your life. They’re cute to me, and I love being around them but...no. It’s not for me.” He pauses, running his fingers over his lips slowly before sighing.

“I wish I could just say I don’t like kids. But honestly I love them. And maybe in another life I’d have loved to be a dad. Not now though. Not ever. I can’t...I can’t invest that much of myself in someone that’s half me. That level of love and sacrifice that parents put into their kids...that terrifies me.” You can tell he looks over at you then and you squeeze his hand, understanding him but unsure why he’s so worried about it still.

“I mean...I think most people feel like that right? And most parents don’t regret it. Maybe you’d be a great dad and you’d love it?” Why you’re trying to talk him into kids suddenly is beyond you, but you don’t want him to feel like his choice has been stifled by you.

“I know most don’t regret it. But then some do. From what you’ve said...I think you could end up in that category and I couldn’t ask that of you. I might be wrong obviously. No...I never want kids, because I just...can’t handle that. That’s too much of myself I have to invest and...and if it all goes wrong then I just...I don’t know how people do it.” You know what he’s talking about then, the reason behind why his voice goes so husky suddenly.

His sister.

“You’re talking about your sister, aren't you?” He doesn’t answer for a moment, just strokes your hand before sighing deeply. It’s an even deeper sigh than before, and you ponder for a moment over the fact that you’ve never seen or heard Hoseok sounding so unsure or...sad.

“Yeah. I mean...she was my sister, and that completely ruined my world for years afterwards. I don’t...I don’t know how my parents did it. You put so much love into a child, you spend nine months waiting for them and then you spend years helping them to grow, watching them take their first words, first steps, first laugh, smile and so much more. And then there’s a chance that it’s all gone, in an instant. Because of a drunk driver, or they stepped out into the road, or...a completely random occurrence. Then you have nothing. Nothing but...pain and hurt and loss and grief. And it’s a pain that doesn’t go away. My mom cries every year on her birthday, at Christmas and on the anniversary of her death. It hurts her just as much now as it did then.” He pauses for a moment, sniffling and you realise quietly that he’s crying.

Carefully, you don’t look at him because you know it’ll set you off too. And you really can’t be having that while you’re driving, so instead you just squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“I know that the only reason she carried on is because they had me. But then I think that no matter what they say, they must have had moments of anger as to why I was still here and she wasn’t. They wouldn’t mean it obviously, I know that. But I got to grow up and do everything my sister never got the chance to. I can’t do that. I can’t risk that. And I know the chances are slim...but tell that to my parents. I’m being selfish, but I don’t want to put myself through the risk of that pain. I have no interest in it. So you’re good with me sweetheart. We’ll live a good life with cats and dogs. It hurts less when they go.” You don’t need to look at him to know he’s giving you a smile, and you smile yourself despite the tears that slowly fall at his words.

The pain in his voice tells you that despite what he’s said, despite the therapy he’d undergone and the acceptance he’d had years ago, the death of his sister still hurts. And it has obviously scarred him deeper than anyone else knows. For now, you decide the conversation is over as you don’t want to drag even more bad memories up for him.

“I’m okay with cats and dogs too. Always wanted to be a crazy cat lady.” Laughing lightly, you try to lighten the atmosphere in the car from the dark place you’d accidentally dragged it to. It works, because he lets out a peal of soft laughter that has you smiling happily.

“I’ll be your crazy dog man. Do you want a dog?”

“Maybe. I like cats more.”

“But I love dogs. Think how cute a puppy would be. All small and soft and cute, with tiny barks and so excited to see you.”

“Stop it.”

“With little teeny paws and those big puppy eyes, so desperate to play with you.”

“Hoseok!”

“Okay...be cute though.”