#and ''tied it up'' in the worst way possible that like was hypocritical to the message of the entire series

[fallarbor-town]

thinking about how the most interesting online fandom space experience ive had in years was tokyo revengers on twitter......... we were all keeping up with the manga and posting new theories and thoughts every week and then suddenly wakui was like "ok the manga will be over in 6 more chapters" and we all said HUH and it ended SO TERRIBLY that the whole fandom just collapsed overnight. went from nonstop talk abt tokrev for months to an absolute ghost town. the majority of my tr mutuals straight up abandoned their accounts. the ending was literally so bad that everyone just dropped it and walked away and hasn't discussed it since. ive never seen anything like it

[timmydraker]

CW: abortion/misscariage talk

Tim finding out that he really, legitimately, was an unwanted child.

It all comes to light when he’s looking through his old medical records after loosing his spleen. He wanted to check that there were no allergies he had other than shrimp and then looked into his family. Of certain cancers or disease were common in his linage, he needed to be aware so he could lessen the risk as much as possible.

That’s when he discovers that his mother, proud !feminist’ and independent woman that she was, had refused several surgeries to remove her uterus or have her tubes tied but still had several abortions.

And by several, the papers literally mean several.

Seven whole abortions of children she didn’t want, yet both her and Jack refused to do anything to jsut… prevent any pregnancy in the first place.

They got it all covered with hush money so it wouldn’t get out to the public, but they ended up making a mistake.

Janet Drake went to a Gala when she was unknowingly pregnant and a woman, whose husband was the owner of a prominent news paper company, noticed several signs that Janet was with child. She pointed this out to Janet and when she saw the look of familiar realisation on her face, promised to keep it secret.

Just a day later an article was shown with a photo of Janet with a barely there bump and just like that, Jack and Janet were forced to keep their baby.

Maybe if they hadn’t made several public statements about being against abortion it wouldn’t have mattered, but hypocrites rarely win.

Tim finds several statements by doctors in their files, hidden away behind several fake files and private stamps, that show the couple had tried to figure out a way to ‘remove’ the child before it was born so it wouldn’t be a problem.

Tim even goes so far as to look at his parents search history around the time and sees in horror as it goes from searches on how to force a miscarriage to the financial benefits of a child.

That’s where Alfred finds him, frozen and staring at his screen with enough tears to make a puddle on his desk.

The worst part?

He’s not even that surprised.

[daytaker]

The Adversary

“What happened?” he kept asking. “What the hell happened?!” But I was Wrath, and Wrath doesn’t speak with words.

AN: This is a modified chapter from a longer fic of mine called "Let's All Be Shadows". (Link leads to ao3.) There are references to events from that story, but this can be understood without reading the long-fic.

POV: Satan Nightbringer Timeline Word Count: ~ 4500 Synopsis: Satan recalls his earliest months in the Devildom and a new revelation that hit him just recently. CW: violence, rage, blood, manual choking

Most of the fic is below the cut.

----

Nominative determinism.

That’s a philosophical theory that argues that people gravitate towards interests, careers, or behaviors that align with their name. Nominative—named. Determinism—fate.

The name Satan comes from an ancient human language; the Hebrew word הַשָּׂטָן (hasattan), which means “accuser” or “adversary”. So, following nominative determinism, that is my role. I am the opposition. I am the adversary.

And, following this human theme, if you asked the average human today, they’d probably tell you that Satan and Lucifer are both names for the same entity.

They wouldn’t be completely wrong.

----

The first thing I knew was a white hot pain. It exploded through me, starting at my core and bursting outwards. I was on fire. I was dying.

It’s ironic that birth and death must feel so similar.

I was in a fugue, then, for what felt like a long time. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t speak. I could only rage. Everything that approached me, I tore to shreds. I was feral. I was out of my mind. Flashes of memories are all I have of the beginning. There’s the taste of copper in my mouth and blood smeared over my face, on my hands, in my hair. I’m tearing at something that used to be alive. Then oblivion, and the next thing I recall is writhing on the floor in a dark room, the rough masonry scraping my bare back. I bled all over the Demon Lord’s dungeon, and I never stopped screaming.

I screamed until my throat bled, and after that, I screamed in choked, gargled bursts of sticky blood and saliva.

After the rage, the blinding heat, the blood, the broken nails and torn hair and shattered restraints… After that, there was him.

I hated him.

I knew who he was; what he was to me. It was instinct, the way a baby knows its mother. Lucifer was my mother.

I’ll never forgive him for that. I’ll never forgive him for making me.

Because he did. He made me. He put me here, a struggling, suffering, raging mess of tissue and blood and bile and hate.

I don’t think I can effectively put into words how badly I wanted to die. There’s no way to say it without sounding pathetic. But I wanted death in a way I can barely understand now. Everything hurt, and now he was here, and every nerve ending in my body seared with a sort of fuming hatred that I couldn’t understand. I still don’t understand it. The idea that I could end my own existence never crossed my mind, though. That didn’t feel like an option. He made me. I was his responsibility. He should be the one to liberate me.

Instead, he tied me up, cast enchantments, and put me into bondage; he prevented me from moving. 'For my own good,' he said. And there, where I couldn’t lash out with my body, when I couldn’t strike and bite and rip, when I could no longer express myself physically; that’s when I spoke my first coherent words. They were like pebbles on my tongue, awkward and slathered in saliva, garbled, but intelligible.

"Traitor," I growled in a strange voice; a voice I'd never heard before. "Look at the mess you made."

I used those words to remind him what he was. That was my violence. Words like:

Coward. Failure. Hypocrite. Pathetic. Weak. The worst thing to ever happen to the people who trusted you.

It was a chorus of insults designed to burn him. Babies nurse on their mothers. So did I. I nursed on his pain. I wanted so badly to hurt him the way he hurt me. And maybe, possibly, he’d do what he should have done the instant I was born into this world. Maybe he would lose his temper. Maybe he would kill me.

He didn’t. Obviously. He never even responded to what I said, in those early days. He’d just look me over, examining my body, treating the rash of scabs on my back and shoulders. He’d put this cooling salve on the sores, and it burned like ice on my skin. I screamed and I bit at him and I tried to show him what words, still so new and ineffective, refused to do for me. “I hate you. I will kill you.”

Sometimes he’d get this look on his face… This awful, sick… sad… sour look. Pity. It was just pity.

And it enraged me. How dare he pity me when this was his fault? I told him as much.

I told him everything back then, in those earliest days. Every thought that entered my head. I only knew three things: pain, hate, and Lucifer. And only one of those things could understand me.

My memories from then are fuzzy. Rather than a narrative, I recall a tapestry of impressions and sensations; reds and whites and blacks, flashes of green, and long stretches of gray. But some incidents stand out in my mind, clearer than all the others. In one, I was bound and naked—I wouldn’t wear clothes then, in the earliest days; I just shredded them when I had my hands free, and I screamed and tensed and scraped my body on the walls when I didn’t. I hated how they felt, hot fibers rubbing against nerve endings that were so raw I could barely think. But I was naked, and I was bound to a bed or a chair or something in the Demon Lord’s castle, and I was screaming, and tears and blood stung my eyes, and I told him:

“This was inside you all along, Lucifer! Look at me! I was inside you! This is you! I am you!”

And he sighed. He looked so tired, so pathetic. He ruffled my hair with a gentleness that ignited the rage inside me to a maddening level. And he said to me:

“I am me. You are you.”

I told him to eat shit, and he shrugged and cleaned me up.

I wonder if he was punishing himself, the way he always took care of me on his own. Or maybe it was just one of his self-imposed responsibilities; another thing he could do to convince himself he didn’t deserve to be miserable.

Back then, in those early days, he treated me like I was his child. I was his child. It always makes me sick to think about it that way, but he was my parent. He gave birth to me. He nursed me. He raised me. And just like so many parents since the dawn of time, he made me into a miserable facsimile of himself. I was Lucifer, but worse. I was Lucifer, but broken and ashamed and out of control. I was Lucifer, if Lucifer hated Lucifer. I didn’t want to be Lucifer.

“I am me. You are you.”

That’s easy enough to say when you’re the original. What about when you’re the parasitic thing that exploded from someone’s wounded body and heart? What then, Lucifer?

----

In spite of everything, I somehow made progress. I learned to dress myself, and to wear clothes without tearing them to shreds. I learned how to walk without erupting into an inferno of fury. I learned to speak without screaming. And that awful mother of mine was always with me, it seemed; always by my side. “Remember to breathe,” he’d say, or “Focus on what’s in front of you.” And I’d mutter curses at him, and I’d try; I’d try to do what he told me to do, and I’d feel so ashamed . But when I did what I was told, he’d give me things. Books, mainly, but also different foods, changes of scenery… So I did what I was told.

In some ways, I was as naive as a child. I remember the mystery of my first snowfall, touching it and putting it to my lips and staring at the impression of my handprint in the white blanket on the ground. But there were also plenty of things I never had to learn. I knew how to read and write; I understood, conceptually, that there was a Celestial Realm and a Devildom, and which one I was in. I knew that Lucifer had brothers and a sister, and I knew the sister was gone.

I knew about Lilith.

Lucifer says I often talked about Lilith in my early days. I don’t remember it myself, but he says I seemed fixated on her. I would sob and rage at him for letting her go, letting her die, twisting what was left of her and warping it into something ugly.

Lucifer said he thought it was because he was so heavily focused on Lilith when I was ‘born’; he supposes he must have imparted some strange impressions on me in his grief. I don’t remember any of that though, like I said, so I had to take his word for it.

I don't think that's the real reason anymore, though.

----

I remember meeting my brothers. Tch. My ‘brothers’....

“This is Satan,” Lucifer said to them. “He is your brother. I expect you to treat him as such.” They all stared at me as I sat bound and chained to a chair, gritting my teeth, and then they glanced at each other. They didn’t know what to say. And then they stared at me again, and I knew they were told how I’d erupted from Lucifer’s body, and I knew they had heard me screaming in the dungeon and down the otherwise quiet corridor of unused rooms, and I knew they were afraid. I knew.

But I was just six weeks old, and I was terrified too. And being terrified made me so angry. I struggled to swallow the rage, but it was only a matter of seconds before I choked out the first coherent thing that entered my mind, the words crescendoing into a grating scream by the end.

“They’re not my brothers!”

My vision wobbled, my head ached, and my muscles burned with an energy that could only be expelled with violence. I broke free from the chains around my wrists, and soon I was throwing things. Whatever I could get my hands on. A table. A painting. A priceless vase. Levi and Asmo and the twins scattered, and Mammon looked like he wanted to join them, but he didn’t. He stood uselessly in the middle of the hall as Lucifer grappled with me.

“O-oi, whadda you need?” he asked Lucifer, who responded by flapping his wings in irritation and grabbing onto my throat.

I grinned at him. I wanted to show him the worst, most sickening face he could possibly imagine. Lucifer’s expression hardly changed, but he squeezed, and I knew I’d succeeded. “Kill me,” I spat. I was crazy. I had lost my mind. It was empty of everything besides the hate. “Kill me, you scum. Kill me like you killed her.”

For a short while, I thought he might really do it. His fingers dug into my throat, his jaw clenched, and there was a rage in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before as I used some of my last stores of strength to strike him with my tail. Yes. He fed off my rage, and I fed off of his, and it was an infinite feedback loop. The border of my vision started to grow hazy, and my pulse was pounding in my ears, and…

He released me far too soon. Far, far too soon. I didn’t even fully lose consciousness; didn’t even get to enjoy a moment of oblivion. I’d just let myself go limp. I surrendered so easily. And that second of lowered resistance was all he needed to cast some binding enchantment on me and leave me irate and screaming, wheezing for breath, my pulse pounding in my face as my blood resumed circulating, and I wriggled on the floor like a worm. I felt like a worm. 

Time was still so new back then. I couldn’t follow how it passed, and it seemed to dilate, stretching and squeezing, becoming longer and shorter based on my moods. And now, it all feels so long ago.

It was a lifetime ago, I suppose. From then to now, for me.

I wasn’t kept under lock and key. Not normally, at least. I was allowed to wander the Demon King’s castle. While Cerberus stalked the labyrinth below, I was treading the hallways above. I wonder how Lucifer convinced Diavolo to agree to that…

It never got better, though.

The rage.

I just learned to manage it. Slowly. Bit by bit. I’m still learning to manage it. Sometimes I slip.

I slip a lot, actually.

Books were my main solace in the Demon King’s castle, just as they are now in the House of Lamentation. Because I understand how little I know, and how valuable books are as resources.

But funny enough, that wasn’t why I became so interested in books at the start. I was far less interested in nonfiction than I was with novels. Reading a good novel…a really good novel… It can feel like a possession. Like you’ve entered someone else’s body and attuned yourself to someone else’s mind.

I wonder if others understand what a relief that is? I wonder if anybody can have any idea what others actually feel, and how it compares to yourself? It’s a question I sometimes get stuck on. The question alone takes me out of myself. I like that.

I didn’t care much about the real world when I was new. Why should I? The only things in it were Lucifer and his brothers, and I got enough of that already. I would rather be Azaz the Summoner, the demon who forged pacts with other demons in defiance of all natural laws. Or a young human boy living in the wilderness with wolves. I like stories like that.

No, what piqued my interest in the world outside was the butler.

I don’t know where he got the time, or why he cared enough to be bothered with it, but he told me about his own life. Only in the vaguest terms, of course; never touching on anything that felt truly personal. He talked of how ancient he was, and how he’d walked in the human world before humans ever did. And he told me about his room. He even let me look inside once. It’s shocking. Doors and stairs all over the place, leading to different places and times… 

There’s no way for me to know if he was being honest with his stories, but he knew so much, it seemed insane to believe he was making it all up. He knew about the way the Devildom smelled when it was first inhabited by demons; he knew about the sulfur mines that shut down millennia ago, and the infrastructure that transformed the place into somewhere livable… 

So I read some books about the ancient history of the Devildom. From what I could tell, his descriptions were accurate, and though he could have learned those things the same way I had, I didn’t feel he did. It felt more as if he was speaking from experience.

But when I read about the early Devildom, I wanted to learn about the fae. And when I read about the fae, I wanted to learn more about magic. And when I learned about magic, I wanted to learn more about curses, and magicians from all three realms, and soon I was no longer reading about fictional worlds, but my own. And I wanted so badly to see it.

----

When we moved into the House of Lamentation, Lucifer gave me the scroll. It was shiny and strange, and he told me it belonged to me, and that I should look it over when I was ready. He told me it had information about my birth. He made it sound like some sort of legal document, and it seemed to me that he wanted me to look at the thing sooner rather than later. So I tossed it on a high shelf and ignored it. I ignored it until you came to my room and started asking questions.

Lucifer came into my room the night I had you over. No knocking. He just burst in, arms crossed, wearing that disgusting look of beleaguered disappointment on his face. Like I’d let him down again. Like I owed him the consideration of trying to do anything else…

“You had a guest today, I heard.”

I was sitting on my bed, reading a book about who-knows-what. I’ve forgotten. He made me forget. And I was suspicious. Why was he speaking like that? Why wouldn’t he just say what he meant? I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of an answer, so I glared at the page of my book without seeing a single word.

Lucifer continued. “Did you become angry? Or were you cruel out of some new, cold sadistic streak?”

I threw my book at him and he dodged it with ease. Then he continued as if I hadn’t tried to smash his face in. “Or perhaps it was unintentional. But it seems you left our attendant in a state of deep distress. What did you discuss?”

“Get out of my room, bastard.”

I turned and lied on my side, back to him, and I dragged my tail over the bedspread. I was working away at it, slowly turning it to ribbons as the threads hooked onto and snapped over the sharp spines. I knew he hated it when I did things like that. And he knew I knew, so he pretended not to notice.

Irritating.

For about three minutes, I laid there, and he stood there, and neither of us said a word.

“Why does it matter?!” I finally snapped. I found myself tugging at my hair in irritation. Every part of my body feels so unnecessary when I’m agitated, from my hair to my horns to my skin. “Why won’t you leave?”

“You should be more careful with whom you share family matters.”

I actually spat out a laugh. Was he serious? I rolled back over and sneered at him. “Why’s that? Anyway, isn’t this all more or less a matter of public record? The entire Devildom knows how I came into the world.”

“Hm. So that’s what you discussed.” He nodded, and there was something supremely cocky in his mannerisms that made me want to strangle him. But I couldn’t strangle him. So I did the next best thing.

“Lilith came up.”

I stared at him, and I saw the flicker of emotion on his face when he heard that name. That name… Lilith… It’s a name I could use to hurt him. That’s all I was thinking when I sharpened it like a knife.

“I don’t understand why anyone would be cautious talking about Lilith with me,” I said nonchalantly. “But I guess my ‘guest’ thought I would be bothered. Tiptoeing around the fact that she died. As if I would be devastated over it.” I laughed, but it was hollow, and I wasn’t getting the reactions I wanted.

I doubled down.

“Really, I’m glad I never had to deal with her. She sounds infuriating. When you get down to it, the entire war was her fault. All because she couldn’t stand some human dying ten or twenty years before he would have ended up dying anyway.”

I could sense his rising annoyance, but it was too tempered. He knew I was trying to get a rise out of him, so he wasn’t as angry as he might have been otherwise.

“She was your sister,” Lucifer said. He had a strange voice when he said it.

I laughed again. “Right. Like they’re my ‘brothers’. But I never even met her. She’s just some idiot who threw away her life and all your lives for a single stupid human. She’s a stranger. She means nothing to me. She has nothing to do with me. And she deserves what she got.”

Lucifer was quiet for a few seconds. I couldn’t tell if I’d struck a nerve or not. He wasn’t so upset that he reacted, though, which annoyed me.

“She has nothing to do with you?” he echoed.

“Nothing whatsoever.”

His eyes roamed around the room, and they quickly fixed on that damn scroll, as if it was a homing beacon.

“You haven’t read that yet, have you.” It wasn't a question.

I felt another sharp jab of annoyance. “It doesn’t interest me.”

“Don’t be pointlessly stubborn, Satan.”

“What do you care?” I snapped. “Did your attendant come crying to you? Did that break your heart? You just can’t stand seeing someone in pain, is that it?”

“It’s not like you to be intentionally ignorant.”

“Didn’t you say it’s just a record about my birth? I don’t want to know anything else about how I was born. I hate what I already do know.” I jumped out of bed and stalked towards him. If he wasn’t going to walk out the door on his own, I’d gladly help him get there. “And it’s completely like you to dodge a question.”

“You weren’t asking that to hear the answer.”

Again, irritating.

“Why does it matter if I read that thing?”

“Because it concerns you. You should understand how you came to be.”

“I know how I came to be,” I growled. “You pulled your wings off and bled all over and cried. Am I wrong?”

Lucifer lowered his arms to his sides and frowned deeply at me, but he didn’t say anything. Something about that...scared me. Something about that filled me with dread, like I’d suddenly found myself on the edge of a precipice. But dread can’t exist inside me for long. Soon, it had churned through my body and hardened into something more familiar.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I growled. He didn’t say a thing, and he didn’t move. My stomach roiled in my gut. The frustration and disappointment were no longer evident on his face. Instead, I felt like I was a newborn again, “Stop looking at me like you’re worried about me! Like you pity me! It makes me want to vomit!”

I lunged at him. He reacted with the strength and dexterity I’d come to expect. I could never land a blow on Lucifer. If I hadn’t been so damn angry I wouldn’t have even tried. But my entire being ached with rage, and I acted without thinking. I felt so weak. I felt so helpless. I stood there, struggling to free myself, and he stood over me, my fists in his hands, that same, awful, pitying look on his face that he used to have back at the Demon King’s castle. Seeing that look…

“Why do you look at me like that?!” Hot, angry tears blurred my vision and burned my eyes. “Your face always makes me sick, but I can’t stand it when you look at me like that! Why can’t you hate me?!”

And before I could do anything else, I was bound up. Again. Just like I used to be, back in Diavolo’s place. I screamed, and I sobbed, and I felt like I had felt when I was first born. Like nothing but wrath, poisonous wrath, was coursing through my veins. And I felt arms around me—his arms, and I couldn’t push him away, so I just screamed as he embraced me. Like he had any right to embrace me! Why couldn’t I make him leave?! How dare he touch me?! I’d kill him. One day, I’d kill him!

It had been a long time since I’d been that angry. I think it took a toll on my body, because I slipped off to sleep without realizing I'd ever slowed down, and when I woke up, I was in bed, unbound and alone.

My body was sore from straining all my muscles the night before, and I felt groggy and unwell, like I’d been drunk on rage and woke with a hangover. I stepped out of bed and looked around the room. I felt I was searching for something.

Again, like a homing beacon. The celestial glow drew my eyes.

My fingers twitched.

I took the scroll from the shelf and untied it. I hated that I was giving in to him so easily. But what choice did I have? I had half a mind to burn the thing unread, but it slipped open and the words appeared before my eyes in a language I barely recognized. A human language, bizarrely. It appeared to be Latin. It used Latin characters, at least.

ANNO MMCDXCI REGNI GARDONI MAGNI A SANGUINE LUCIFERI ET CORPORE LILITHAE IN REGNO QUOD INTER REGNA EST CREATURA NOVA E PACTIONE SANGUINE CONSIGNATA APPARET. EX AMATO AD AMATUM IN ACERBISSIMO MORTIS DOLORE CORPUS CORPUS ITERUM FIT ET SANGUIS SANGUIS ITERUM FIT. HAEC PACTIO IN TERRA NEUTRIUS PARTIS CONCELEBRATUR AB INFERNO CONFIRMATA NEQUE A CAELO RECUSATA. SATANUS, ADVERSARIUS, NATUS EST.

TESTATUM PER DIAVOLUM, GARDONI MAGNI FILIUS NATURALIS TESTATUM PER BARBATOS, DAEMONUS TESTATUM PER LUCIFERUM, ANGELUS LAPSUS

----

I wandered to Lucifer’s study. It was empty. It took awhile to find the right sort of dictionary, but eventually, I had what I needed. And I got to work.

Within the hour, I was rampaging around the house. Mammon tried to get me under control, but he was never able to contain me. Only Lucifer ever did that.

“What happened?” he kept asking. “What the hell happened?!” But I was Wrath, and Wrath doesn’t speak with words.

----

Playing the adversary is hard work. It’s exhausting. It makes me miserable. But I have to do it. It’s my role. It’s my name. And I’m made out of Lucifer’s wrath. He must feel so much lighter without all that anger weighing him down. How nice for him. But when I learned about what else I was…

I’m Lilith, you know? I’m made out of her.

For some reason, that made me crazy.

----

IN THE 2491st YEAR OF THE REIGN OF THE GREAT GARDONUS, FROM THE BLOOD OF LUCIFER AND THE BODY OF LILITH, IN THE REALM BETWEEN REALMS, A CONTRACT SEALED WITH BLOOD BRINGS FORTH A NEW ESSENCE. OF BELOVED, BY BELOVED MADE, IN THE AGONY OF DEATH, BODY AGAIN BECOMES BODY AND BLOOD BECOMES BLOOD ANEW. THIS DOCUMENT BEING LEGALLY SOLEMNIZED ON NEUTRAL GROUND, SANCTIFIED BY HELL, UNCONTESTED BY HEAVEN. SATAN, THE ADVERSARY, IS BORN.

WITNESSED BY DIAVOLO, NATURAL SON OF THE GREAT GARDONUS WITNESSED BY BARBATOS, DEMON WITNESSED BY LUCIFER, FALLEN ANGEL

[burningrhino]

Family Guy has had many character derailments over the past few years. Peter Griffin is designed to be the idiot husband that gets into wacky adventures with face that I wanted to poke. Now, he's arrogant asshole who hurts his friends and family, sometimes the worst ways possible. Intentionally shooting Quagmire in the arm and Joe in the EYE, behaving like an insufferable man-baby around Lois and making her cry and even injuring his children. Every once in a while Peter does horrendous things and people around him will be like "I've had it with your actions and blah blah blah!", they storm off and Peter makes this half-assed apology and camera slightly zooms in like that makes it okay. This happens so much that his apologies shouldn't work anymore.

You can tell this lady’s reputation has been demolished when she continues to put up with Peter’s childish behavior and couldn’t even tell the difference between her own daughter and a damn barrel. Isn't she suppose to be smart? Lois became incredibly weak and greedy at times and had these strange addictions that became a serious problem for her family. Keep in mind, she nearly drowned her BABY trying to make him grab her addiction pills from a toilet. Plus, she couldn't even tell Joe whose head is inches below hers is in front of her and she continues to deal with Peter after everything he's done to her. This kind of thing happens in some Simpsons episodes especially the later ones and I'll tell you right now, I didn't even like it there. Cartoon or not, Lois and Marge should know better at this point. Also, she burried Chris's imaginary girlfriend out of jealousy instead of doing the right thing and returning items that made said girlfriend to their rightful owners.

Glenn is a sick pervert who would hunt for anything with a vagina. Sometimes it's funny, other times he does this at the worst possible times. In later episodes, is it me, or does he just get pissed off over any little thing? My hate for Quagmire begins in this episode where Lois has to take Peter's to hang out with the guys for bowling but he got WAY to hostile, even though I thought the opposing team were friends of his. Does true friendship not exist in Quahog? His team wins a trophy and he STILL acts like a total dick. He even kicked a kids birthday cake. I also don't understand his sudden hatred for Brian. Joe I can understand, Brian did kiss his wife and I thought it was funny that he shot him, (I also think he's ten times easier to look at than Glen just so you know) but Quagmire's hate just seemed unnecessary. He's also a hypocrite saying that Brian would go out with his friends wife when he does everything in his power to do THE EXACT SAME THING and some of his insults and incredibly low blow; saying that Brian has three years left on planet Earth and that dogs are normally left tied to poles? That's animal racism and if you're gonna bash about Brian for his harsh actions, go right ahead, in fact, I stand by my word saying that Vinny is everything Brian use to be, but at least he gets punished for most of those and keep in mind, he has to deal with the likes of Peter who some people may argue is even worse. I do not know what the women in the show see in this creep. They're nuts.

Chris Griffin became a bit too pathetic and also a rotten brother. I didn't mind this change too much so he just gets flicked in the face. Also, notice how in the earlier images, Delfino had this vengeful look on his face, now he has this decision-making face

Now a lot of people may argue that Stewie's one of the only good characters left, but I couldn’t disagree more. Like with Peter, any time Stewie makes a dumb joke or talks to the audience, I feel the need to roll my eyes. Another thing that bugs me is that he became a cross-dressing homo and yeah I know I'm speaking as the guy who likes to take photos of men's butts but this still bugs the hell outta me and admittedly, this is a small thing, but I just don’t like his face. Oh, and Stewie: a three-year-old BOY GOT PREGNANT

[teamfortresstwo]

absolutely. I think it’s what drove them to leave the bodies for the ferrymen, instead of any of the number of ways they could have saved them from joining the ferrymen. if the opportunity to run had presented itself, I don’t think they would have taken it.

maybe a younger, still-hopeful ulysses would have cut off their heads and thrown them in the Vault with the rest of their slowly dying body… but that was before. they are not that person, not anymore.

I think when they looked into oedipus’s eyes they didn’t just see a man who cared deeply for children – they saw one who would hurt them anyways. just like they did. and in their eyes, that is beyond whatever notion of ‘forgivable’ still exists in the city.

I think when they looked into hercules’s eyes they didn’t just see a desperate man who would do anything to escape – they saw one who was unrepentant, only trying to escape the consequences of his own horrible, horrible actions. just like they were. and in their eyes, that made him just as bad as the people he works for.

I think when they looked in ariadne’s eyes, they didn’t just see a woman tied down to her unfair past – they see one who holds grudges like lovers, willing to hurt and deceive anyone to build herself up. just like he has. and that is exactly the mindest they had given up on trying to change.

I think that when they looked into orpheus’s eyes, they didn’t just see a man desperate for his love back – they saw one who let her die in the first place. just like he did. and that… that hits too close to home.

regardless of whether it is hypocritical, regardless of if their perception is right, regardless of if it is fair, regardless regardless regardless–

ulysses looks them in the eyes and sees themself.

and… at this point? to them, that’s the worst thing they could have possibly seen.

even if they’ve given up trying to save the citizens of the City, I don’t think ulysses wants them to fall to the acheron. but… the one person they don’t think should be offered that chance – regardless of taking it, in the end – is themself.

the people who have come after them did the exact thing they would have, should the opportunity have been presented.

the people who have come after them did so for them same reasons they would have.

I think that’s what sealed their fate.

OUGHHHHH YOU UNDERSTAND YOU GET IT IM LITERALLY CLAWING KICKING SCREAMING YEAH . YEAH THIS IS . FUCK MAN .

[bethdutten]

promise

frank castle x reader

It was the first time in a long time Frank was in a deep sleep, when he heard a loud bang on his front door.

He was out of bed, half-asleep, gun cocked as he made his way to the sound, fearing the worst. As he quietly opened the door, gun ready, he let out a groan when he recognized your prone body collapsed outside of it.

“What the fuck, I was sleeping.”

You glared up at him half-heartedly. “Just calling in a favor, Castle.”

He could tell you were injured, blood staining your jacket and trailing from a cut on your cheekbone. He didn’t even think twice as he leaned down to carefully scoop you up into his arms and into his apartment; you’d done it for him enough time that he really did owe you one.

“What is it this ti-fucking christ.”

You’d pulled your jacket off, lifting up your sweater to reveal the 8 inch gash along your side. It was deep, blood pumping out at a terrifying amount.

“Just a quick stitch-n-ditch, I promise.”

Frank rolled his eyes, trying to hide his concern as he quickly grabbed his kit from under the sink. “I’d be amazed if you didn’t pass out from blood loss within the next ten minutes, sweetheart. You ain’t going anywhere.”

You gave in pretty easily, considering there was no way you were walking out by yourself at this point. A stab wound to the ribs, possible broken wrist, and most likely a concussion.

Frank didn’t say a word as he stitched you up, focusing on his work. He could feel your gaze on him, heated and soft. Like always. He could move his face an inch and kiss you. But he wouldn’t.

You sighed as he snipped off the last thread, placing the bandage in place. “Take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch,” he grumbled, holding out his hand for you to take.

But you just stared up at him, a gentle look on your face. “We can both take the bed, Frank.”

Before he could protest, you took his hand and carefully pulled yourself up and into his chest, closer than he would have liked. Or maybe not close enough, depending on what side of he was currently arguing with.

You didn’t do small talk or bullshit, so it didn’t surprise him when you just came out and said, “You can’t give me that “you deserve better” shit, because you know I don’t. I deserve just as much or as little as you. We’re the same.”

Frank didn’t know how to respond to that. You were right; hell, you’d probably killed more people than him at this point. And you had just as good a reason as he did for doing what you do.

Maybe you were the same. He was used to having a reason to stay away, but with you, any reason would make him a hypocrite.

“Fine,” he grit out, rolling his eyes at your wide smile as you gestured for him to come closer. He wrapped his arms around you, purposely ignoring the bandaged cut he just stitched up on your ribs as you let out a groan.

“Hurting you, sweetheart?”

You smacked his arm, right where the bullet wound from last week grazed him, earning you his own pained groan. “Not at all.”

He led you to his bedroom, trying not to think at all. Because his mind always went back to the same place every time he almost gave into you.

This is who he is now. The Frank that existed before all the wars he fought is dead, forever gone from existence. But that doesn’t mean he can’t find something in the person he is now. Find someone. You.

He knew you knew he was distancing himself. After a particularly bad fight where he said things he hoped would make you hate him, not because he meant it but because he needed you to hate him, or he wouldn’t know how to stay away, you said,

“Promise me you’ll stop punishing me for loving you by hurting yourself. You have to let me make my own decisions.”

He promised.

You curled up against him in bed, resting your head on his chest and humming softly when his hand came up to play with your hair. You pressed a soft kiss to the scar from the bullet on his chest, sighing against his skin. “Did I help?”

He knew what you meant. Frank felt his eyes drift shut, focusing on nothing but the feeling of your breath on his skin and hands on his chest, making him feel things he thought he forgot. “You pulled me out. You saved me from myself.”

Lately, Frank had been thinking about how exhausting it was being strong. He craved softness, just once. To not be proud of how well he can take a hit, or how many. He needed you.

To remind him that he wasn’t all strength, and you loved him anyway.

That was the big difference between you and Maria; she’d seen him after the war, but after her and the kids were killed, Frank started a whole different war. One without the excuse of reason, other than revenge. A dark, senseless war where Frank stopped recognizing himself, and anything about himself that Maria would have loved.

But you loved him. You saw him at his worst, a version of himself he wished no one had to see. But you loved him anyway.

Whether he agreed with it or not, you loved him. And he was going to keep his promise. 

[mordigen]

Unpopular opinion: Christians are not witches

I said it. Fight me.

There has been a trend that has been growing ever more problematic recently: overbearing, hyper-zealous, hyper-vigilant "acceptance" This means the pagan community is an absolute free-for all, and you are not allowed to so much as even feign the possibility that you do not agree with absolutely 100% of everything, lest you be named a gatekeeping, ignorant bigot.

Whether you like it or not - there ARE paths out there that have specific rules...regulations...stipulations...tenets - whatever the hell you want to call or classify them. End. Period. There's no other colour that comes in - that's it. Sorry for you, but they DO exist. In fact, there are many of them.

If you do not follow those rules, tenets, etc..., then you are not of that path. Point. Blank. And there is nothing wrong with that - it simply means that you are of some other path. That's it! That's all that means! It may be *nearly* identical to the path in question - but it is not, hence the 'nearly'.

If you happen to be a part of one of these paths, there is absolutely nothing wrong with saying so. If someone claims to be a part of one of these paths, but are absolutely, blatantly not - there is nothing wrong with saying that, and explaining why that is. Some people just honestly don't know there is a difference, or that these certain prerequisites are indeed a definitive factor - so they learn something, they broaden their horizons. Everyone seems to be all about educating themselves about being sensitive to other cultures and customs - except the pagan community, apparently, because this mentality does not translate across that pagan/witch line. Instead of taking it as a learning experience, you are immediately pounced on with notions of 'there are no rules!' 'you can't tell someone what to do on their own path!' Or, simply, the name calling. Well yes, while all of that is true - it still remains that how ever you want to practice or whatever you personally decide to do, may just simply not be what you are claiming, or calling it. It may just be semantics - but semantics matter when dealing with nuance. And paganism is extremely nuanced.

You can call a tomato an orange all you want to - but that thing will never be an orange, no matter how much you believe in it. And people are not wrong for informing you that you may have the wrong name, that is in fact, a tomato. If you go on deciding to call it an orange, you can do that - but that is willful ignorance. So, in your fight to be unapologetically accepting of every ridiculous notion, you are perpetuating willful ignorance - whilst being directly in opposition of your goal and being, *GASP*, unaccepting to those who follow a path where distinction and definition matters. You are completely invalidating those people's paths and beliefs while trying to defend another's (another who may, in fact, actually be wrong) and actively using their path & beliefs as the very reason to berate and ostracize them. Pretty fantastically hypocritical of you. Now...on to the second problem. I do not, at all, in any form, believe in "ritual magick" - as perpetuated by Aleister Crowley hardons. And no, that is not a knock on Crowley, just the idiot followers that don't understand half of what he taught and latch onto the superficial.

When you look at the origins and make up of magical beliefs, and magic itself as a separate entity - no matter which particular branch - they were all created by religion. They all have roots in highly spiritual cultures and customs. So, I absolutely do not believe for one second that you can believe in magic without SOME form of religion - whatever one you adhere to is your choice, but you cannot have the first without the latter. You cannot. Even if you claim that you have no religion, or spiritual faith, your practices absolutely do. You are calling on elements and agencies that absolutely have divine ties and connections one way or another. Oh, how many atheists I see calling on the seals of Arch Angels.... are you fucking shittin me? Really?? So let's bring it all together now - with the fact that many faiths DO have prerequisites, AND the fact that magic is religious/spiritual -- Christians are not, and cannot be witches or pagans. They are mutually exclusive. Not only because so many various paths have such prerequisites, and very define religious/spiritual beliefs that are contradictory to others - but simply because Christianity DOES, very much, have very clear and stringently defined Do's & Don'ts, and obviously the religious aspect itself clashes with the religious beliefs of others. Their religious beliefs clash with people who believe in their same god - so how could they not with those who believe in other gods?? Considering this, no other path would even need such stipulations themselves for them to be mutually exclusive, as Christianity already covers that issue so completely, but the fact that so many pagan paths do only exacerbates an already existing problem. That being said - that does not mean you cannot believe in the Christian 'god', by whatever name you know him by - or that you cannot believe in Jesus, and also be a witch or pagan. In fact the latter has an even bigger argument for believing in both, as paganism, generically, in itself is polytheistic, so it is very fitting to simply have the Christian god and Jesus amongst the many deities being worshipped. But those two things alone is not what makes Christianity. A good start, yes, but that is not all it takes - in fact, there are many that are shunned, excommunicated, banned, condemned and moreso whilst having those very two qualifying factors. You can find this in *every single* sect of Christianity, so...the proof is in the pudding, as they say, that it is much more than simply believing in 'God' and Jesus that makes a 'Christian'. And if you take that to heart and follow all those rules - you cannot be a witch or pagan, many times over, as you would be in direct opposition, or violation, of a number of their teachings - both on the aspect of simple 'rules', but also on a much deeper spiritual level of the entire foundation of their faith. Cannot serve two masters, and all that... If you do not follow those rules, then sure, you could be a witch or a pagan - but then you cannot be a Christian. That is just the facts.

Many people like to argue the use of magic and mysticism in the bible - but the issue is what parts of the bible they are found, and all the amendments of the further books. Again, what really carves out being a Christian vs. any of the other sects of Abrahamic beliefs. As, news flash - there is far more than just Christianity. And some of them, do, in fact, do hand in hand with magic. The Kabbalah is an astounding example of that - and, in fact, where a lot of the so called *ahem* 'non'-religious 'ritual magick' comes from. In this same vein, I would like to note that I have never had any issue or seen conflict with the Hebrew or Jewish take on shamans, mystics and witches, as they really do go hand in hand - They have their own very in depth, detailed, spiritual and sentimental form of mysticism that was a natural progression from pre-Abrahamic religions and culture, and grew into their teachings and belief system, so it does not go against their core beliefs the same way it very stringently does in Christian theology. Considering their ethnical histories and cultural heritage - this is a brilliant example of the natural evolution and progression of faiths - not simply ripped from the hands of the brutally oppressed and rewritten as a mockery to wipe out the preexisting notion of faiths -- as the Church has a history of doing. The Book of Enoch is another shining example of Biblical magic, or Angelic magic. But, this also also turns my point into a self fulfilling prophecy, as in the fact that it is accepted amongst all denominations as heresy, and it is taught that these magics - though they do, in fact, exist, were for the angels and completely forbidden from mankind. So, thusly, if you are a follower of Enoch, you are not a 'Christian', by name and membership, as you are outright going against it's teachings. You are a heretic, a blasphemer. Perhaps you may be one of the many other forms of the Christian god's followers - but not a Christian, as being Christian denotes a very specific set of beliefs and tenets - end of story. Magic, and paganism, is in direct conflict with those teachings, and therefore, cannot coexist.

On top of the logic - there is also the emotional issue. Christianity has a long history of abuse towards various pagan, tribal and indigenous faiths, while stealing our beliefs as their own, and demonizing those they couldn't successfully acclimate into theirs. To now be expected to be OK with this faith, yet again, latching on to *our* sacred rites and practices as being a part of their own is a hard pill to swallow at best, a slap in the face to most, and flat out perpetuating trauma at worst. Once upon a time, people sought out these very same communities and groups within their pagan circles as an escape, a safe space, and a shield and guardian against the Christian onslaught, torment, oppression, or just exhaustion - and now, we must not only tolerate them invading our private spaces, but must now welcome them with open arms and expected to be happy about it? Forgive me if I don't sympathize....

If we are going to now be forced into being shoulder to shoulder with them, the very least you can offer us is neutrality. You can be accepting of all and still be neutral grounds - not taking any one side anywhere, all you have to do is be respectful to each other. Disagreement is not disrespectful. Could someone who disagrees with a certain viewpoint *become* disrespectful? Sure, of course they could. But simply the act of disagreement is nothing hateful or hurtful in any way shape or form - in fact, good discourse is how progress is made. So we need to remain neutral grounds and normalize the acceptance of different viewpoints - we need to recognize and accept that, yes, there are paths out there that do have specific requirements, expectations and limits - there are paths that are going to disagree, or just flat out not believe in something. Instead of name calling, when someone of those paths decides to speak up and enlighten and elaborate on information that may be inaccurately described or depicted, you need to LISTEN and learn, and not just bludgeon them with presumptive judgement. You also need to accept that there are many, various different closed practices out there - beyond Native American & Voodoo practices (as those seem to be the only ones the pagan community recognizes) and if someone of those closed faiths tell you - no, you are not xy or z, that is also not being judgmental or hateful or hurtful - that simply is. ....a very important side note here is that acknowledging closed practices is also not a carte blanche for screaming about cultural appropriation. Please shut the fuck up about cultural appropriation. Not being of a specific faith is not equivalent to cultural appropriation - Telling someone "no, you're not xyz" is very different from telling someone "no, you can't practice xyz" (looking at you smudge-Nazis) You can enjoy, practice, learn or celebrate anything you want of any faith you want while not actually being apart of it - that's the beauty of sharing and learning. And I think that is where all the trouble boils down from:

Yes, you can do whatever you want and can create whatever path you want for yourself...just don't misrepresent it, don't call it something it is not, and don't deny those who are more educated & experienced in that particular department. We get enough of that from outsiders to start doing it to each other.

[strawbabysimp]

Adult Trio Soulmate Strings AU HCs

Chrollo

No one had told him what the string meant, what was on the other side waiting for him. Children in Meteor City knew how to fight and how to live and how to kill. Not how to love. Or maybe they did and the world simply told them they shouldn't. That they weren't deserving of it. As he got older Chrollo eventually sought out the meaning of this mysterious red string, finding his answer in one of the books he managed to get his hands on in that wretched and beloved place. A soulmate.

There was a person out there just for him, but more importantly, there was a destiny. A plan for him. He knew he had to find them, to secure this irrefutable connection to another. The leader had planned to meet them when he got out of Meteor City, it was part of the reason he formed the Troupe. Though, as the years went on and life took its toll on him, as it did anyone, the desire to find this person faded. By the time The Spiders had managed to become a notorious group, it was a dream within a dream. A soulmate? How tragically philosophical.

That's not to say he wasn't curious, but he lost that drive, running on autopilot as he searched for a passion without the motivation to even want one. Sometimes he did find himself especially enraptured by the red string secured around his finger though, toying with it during meetings or tying small knots that soon came undone while laying in bed.

Guilt wasn't something he felt often, taking lives and valuables without a second thought was a regular occurrence, but with you? He felt utterly in the wrong. To deny you of something even he found beautiful simply because he "didn't care?" That's when he felt like a monster. He found comfort in the title though, embracing the fact of what he was. He was selfish and greedy and somehow still found a way to prevent himself from gaining the one thing that could save him.

One day he had been twisting the string between his fingers, a mannerism that even the others around him had picked up on when there was a tug back. It became a regular occurrence, the two of you pulling on the string lightly back and forth. You tried to beg him through the string to come to find you, pulling him in your direction, but he never did come. You knew it was impossible to tell, but it seemed he had gotten even farther away.

The only connection you'd ever have with him was through those small motions and you'd go on to love someone else. Maybe not in the way you would have loved him, but there's not much to do when you're destined to love someone who was forced to learn how not to.

Hisoka

"I don't have one" he'd respond calmly. This was his and his alone, so what if people thought he was a freak? He wouldn't allow someone to interfere with this in even the most minuscule way. A person who relied on him and only him to fulfill the grandest idea of love? Nothing could hold more power than the blood-soaked string tied around his ring finger.

Heaven's Arena was a well-known spot, a tourist attraction of sorts, so you simply had to stop by when you happened to be near. As you made your way to the stands and gazed on at the stage you found him already looking at you, giving you a quick smirk as your gaze fell to his hand with a shocked expression. At the end of his "performance" he typically met with fans but this time he naturally went straight to you, a single blood-stained rose held out in a tender gesture. You didn't question how he had managed to obtain the flower, too busy processing the fact that this bizarre man was your soulmate.

Every moment with you is too much for him to endure. It's an adrenalin rush that he's become addicted to but whenever he looks at you he gets this urge to tear everything you are apart and cover himself in the pieces he could never think to reach from the outside. Being close to you is never close enough and the only way to satisfy this feeling of need would be to destroy you. He can't bear to do that but it's so tempting.

At rare times something in him seemed to break, going off on tangents about the cruelty of his thoughts and how he longed to turn you into yet another victim of his murderous desires. He had planned to take over your life, wishing to bask in the high your undying love was sure to give him. A man becoming weak through the pursuit of power is a pitiful sight even for one not tied to them by fate. "My love will never complete you. I take and I take and I offer up only the worst parts of myself because that's all I have to offer. That's the tragedy of loving me, my dear. I will not apologize because I do not feel bad, however, I will not allow myself to hurt such a lovely thing."

You always come back to each other, the string acting as a sort of magnet between you two. Eventually, you both come to accept the situation for what it is; deadly but far too tempting to not risk everything for. He was the most beautiful thing you'd ever laid eyes on and if the image of him was the last thing you ever saw you'd consider it a privilege.

Surprisingly enough, the magician never does end up taking your life, finding the unfamiliar task of restraining himself a new sort of challenge to prove his strength. Holding you close to him, pressing your body against his as he watches your auras merge, was a common occurrence. When his bloodlust rose and your fear spiked just a fraction he would plant a gentle kiss on your cheek before pulling away with some excuse, you both knew he did this to protect you but he'd never admit that.

Illumi

Soulmates were a weakness in the eyes of the Zoldycks, hypocritical to say the least as Silva and Kikyo were tied by fate, but that was typical. Despite the harsh words his parents had told him, his curiosity would eventually get the better of him and he would seek you out. Traveling in the direction the string took him without fail. It was an easy task when you had money and power. Locating you was not the issue, deciding what to do with you once found was. Simply approaching you wouldn't do.

He watched you for a long time, disappearing into a crowd or dark corner whenever you felt eyes on you. One day you found yourself doing trivial tasks, walking the streets on your way to pick up a snack, or do some light shopping when an unfamiliar feeling hit you. It wasn't unpleasant so much as it was surprising. You even describe it as lovely.

Despite his best efforts to keep himself hidden from your view, Illumi had never been trained to hide love. Pain, fear, anger, sadness, all these were painstakingly buried deep within him to the point that even he didn't know how to release them. But what he felt when looking at you grew greater with each small action and he didn't notice it slipping through until it was too late.

The second your eyes met he was a goner. It was like a drug to the emotionally-deprived man and while he knew it wouldn't do any good to engage you, the selfishness that was ripped out of him from a young age came flooding back full force. Both of you remained shocked as you approached one another but the small smile you gave him was enough to make him think that maybe this was the one time surrendering himself to feelings was okay.

Marrying you was a plan he wants to put into action as soon as possible, using the piece of paper as a form of protection. "Never kill a family member" read the Zoldyck rules that were engraved into the assassin's mind. This would be one of many forms of rebellion you had influenced Illumi in making, and while it wasn't necessarily against the rules, it was certainly not something he thought his parents would approve of.

When you're hanging out he remains a bit stiff, not sure of how to act around someone casually. You begin to feel off-put by the awkward composure of your soulmate though he picks up on it easily, his ability to read people far more advanced than the average person. Illumi allows a small bit of his aura to shine through the veil to reassure you of his contentment, and while he won't acknowledge it, you're grateful for his efforts. It's during one of these dates, hidden away in a hotel relaxing beside one another, that the usually warm and comforting aura changes. His arm comes to hold you just a bit tighter and the love he allowed to encompass you shut off. This had happened times before but your attempts at reassurance through small touches did no help to soothe the Zoldyck.

Later that night his hand would rest gently against your cheek as the light in your eyes dies, your face is wet with tears but a forgiving smile still rests kindly on your face. You're already gone. He can feel it. Despite this he holds you against him late into the night, only letting go when he can no longer bear to see you in such a state. His eyes stay downcast as he refuses to look up at the state the sky is in, not wanting to face the fact that the wetness of his cheeks could be from anything other than the weather. He sends one message before putting his phone away with shaking hands. Yet another job is done.

[gamesception]

@welcometogrouchland said:

Haven't read Steph's robin appearances in order/in a while, but iirc, Tim did want to be with Steph (even if he was on the fence about it initially and rebuffed her a lot, not to mention characters like nightwing saying a girl like Steph has ''too much baggage'' for a guy like Tim to deal with. Lol. Lmao, even) but did like and want to be with her, he just didn't tell her the secret identity thing due to loyalty to Bruce

I think part of his anger at Bruce in this arc (or the intention at least) has to do with Bruce being a hypocrite by telling Steph after Tim had committed to not telling her for bruces sake. Plus he also had this complex about compartmentalizing being tim and being Robin and didn't like the idea of Steph crossing over into Tim's life. Bruce is a huge unjustified asshole here…but that's par for the course when Dixon writes him imo. And he's meant to be the hero…

(sorry to keep rambling, I said I was done, but Bruce's attitude in the prior issues in this story and later in Steph's robin run have me thinking it was less about him acquiescing to her stubbornness and more…using her as a bench warmer for tim anytime him and bruce had a disagreement. Which again. Really messed up, Bruce)

Thanks for responding! It does help to get some background from more of a Tim fan, which I am not. Not that I dislike Tim or anything, I just never got into his books. My own engagement with actual comics - as opposed to, like, cartoons & movies based on them - pretty much started and ended with Cass Cain's Batgirl run.

While being hung up on keeping his personal and hero lives separate kind is sort of understandable, though, from just these two issues I don't really get the impression that he had communicated that to Stephanie. Either way Tim was still using "keeping Batman's identity secret" as an excuse to avoid having to tell Steph the honest truth that he just didn't want a romantic relationship.

And it's more than just dating. Again, I'm working from an impression formed by just these two comics, I'm not looking at the actual conversations Tim had with Steph about this in the past, but whether it's accurate or not the Impression she was left with seems to be that the only reason Tim wouldn't tell her his real life identity was because of Batman, like he had pushed the whole thing to Bruce, so then why shouldn't Steph think it's fine for Bruce to change his mind and tell her Tim's identity, when Tim left her with the impression that he would have done so himself but for Bruce?

Again, I get Tim being mad at Bruce. But the anger at Stephanie, coming from both him and Alfred in these issues, seems wholly uncalled for and again honestly puts Tim in a pretty bad light.

...

The bit about Bruce keeping Steph as a bench warmer for Tim, almost a passive threat, like "if you ever leave me, Tim, then I'll have to let Steph do your job, and we both know she's not ready and will get herself or someone else hurt, which will be on you" is super messed up though, yeah. Even that though kind of ties into the pattern of bat folk being uncharacteristically mean to Stephanie. Bruce banned Cass from operating in the field entirely when she lost her 'powers', but now Steph is ready? Kind of implies he's more concerned about Cass's safety than Steph's.

Then again, maybe I'm not being fair to Bruce, as it is the absolutely worst possible interpretation of his actions here. He hasn't stent Steph out to fight super villains, or even on patrol, only out on some plain clothes investigation to check up on Tim. He's said she's ready to be trained, not for the field, and in the past he has trained kids he didn't think were ready simply because they were going to play at costumed crime fighting either way. This has been a key part of the in universe justification for Robins as long as there's been Robins.

But now that ties back to the pattern of the narrative framing Steph as excessively reckless and setting herself up for a fall for doing the same things that the comics have framed as heroic in other characters before her.

Sception Reads Cass Cain #34

Robin (1993) #88 - May 2001 Story: Chuck Dixon & Scott Beatty Pencils: Pete Woods, Ink: Andrew Pepoy Letters: Willie Schubert, Colors: Noelle Giddings

Guest appearance again this week. A bit more of a notable one because as far as I know this is officially the first time Cass Cain and Stephanie Brown meet. Kind of more significant in retrospect than in the moment, as they don't exactly hit it off right away, but still.

So the basic setup is that Bruce has decided Stephanie isn't going to just go away and stop doing Spoiler stuff so he might as well take her on officially and train her, a decision spurred on by Tim working more and more on his own & not answering Bruce's calls. When Tim disappeared from the country completely without telling Bruce where he went Bruce turned to Stephanie to check up on him, in the process telling Steph Tim's secret identity, which iirc (my Robin knowledge is limited, I could have this wrong) previously Tim had used as the reason they couldn't be in a relationship. Like "I can't date you, you don't even know who I am, and I can't tell you that even though I want to because it might give away Batman's identity, which isn't my secret to share. Also my life is super dangerous, and Batman doesn't think you're ready, and as much as I like you I have to respect his professional opinion on this"

On the one hand it's dicky of Bruce to not respect Tim's privacy the way Tim respected his, but on the other hand Tim blowing up about it kind of implies that all those things he told steph were excuses, and the real reason he didn't want to date her was that he just wasn't that into her. Or maybe he was, but got mad at her for getting pregnant by someone else after he rejected her and now doesn't want to date her because of that? Did that happen already, or after this? Again, I don't know the details of Robin Lore, but reading just this issue and the previous one for background, Tim is absolutely the one who comes off as worse here between him and Bruce.

So anyway that's what's going on. Cass shows up in all of this when Bruce takes Stephanie to one of his training caves and has Cass demonstrate a training routine that Steph is struggling with.

Which, yeah, I guess this is pretty badass or whatever,

But if this were a real life situation, Cass would have just decapitated like seven dudes. 100% fatality rate for the criminal dummies. You'd think Bruce would be a little less glowing in his praise over that, considering how much of his shitty behavior towards Cass started when he found out she might have (definitely did, but denial is a powerful drug) killed somebody.

Cass gives Steph the cold shoulder. Giving Dixon & Beatty the benefit of the doubt for a moment, this does fit very much into the recent evolution of Cass's character, becoming harder and harsher as she gets more isolated. She also may be picking up on and echoing Batman's lowish opinion of Stephanie as a vigilante / person, even if it has softened enough for the moment that he's willing to train her.

And it sets up for future interactions where Stephanie basically puts in the work to break through Cass's walls, despite her initial frosty attitude, to become the friend Cass needed when when she didn't have any others. The whole arc is honestly pretty touching and really speaks to Stephanie's character, and it isn't possible without this initial attitude from Cass.

....

On the other hand, this plays into an obnoxious trend of the entire bat family being written as incredibly rude and dickish towards Stephanie, in ways that very often feel completely out of character. Even (especially) Tim, her supposed love interest. Even Alfred!

Yes, calling Alfred 'the Butler' is rude, but Alfred was uncharacteristically rude and dismissive to her first in this scene.

And since it so often feels out of character, you get the impression that the people who actually hate Stephanie aren't the characters themselves, but rather the writers and editors at DC. That is eventually undeniably the case, once DiDio is in charge and War Games is happening.

But that's still 3 years away! I had to check, because the way the narrative is treating Stephanie right now, the way all the characters we're supposed to think are in the right here are treating her (Alfred, Tim, not Bruce), feels very much like the build up to War Games, with Stephanie finally getting a chance to shine and getting some respect from bruce, but with the overall narrative implying that's a bad thing somehow and that she isn't worthy, that despite all her work and earnest commitment she's somehow only coasting on hubris and setting herself up fro a fall, one that we as the audience are supposed to find, like, cathartic, or maybe at best tragic but in a cosmically justified sense that she brought on herself.

And it all kind of sucks, because no, she really doesn't deserve any of it. Or rather she hasn't been written to deserve any of it. The differences between her and Bruce's other sundry teen sidekicks and hangers on have overwhelmingly been in how others have been written as treating her, not the things she's been written as doing or in her personality or whatever.

I guess that's a free writer tip for you. If you want the reader to not like a character, write that character as doing or saying or thinking unlikable things, or acting for distasteful motives. Or give that character things they don't deserve or appreciate without having to work for them. Don't make them sweet and put-upon and have them try hard to do the right thing despite coming from a bad place and struggle to earn respect that others get for free only to have it denied to them anyway and then have all your main characters shit on them constantly for no reason or even explicitly for doing things that they all do and get rewarded for.

If you do all that, your readers will end up identifying with the character you want them to dislike and disliking the characters you want them to identify with.

EDIT: oh, I almost forgot, we do get this one cute 'proud papa' moment from Bruce:

Always nice to see those, especially amid all the less positive stuff going on with him and Cass right now.

[2n2n]

If you could choose the ending for jshk. How would it be? Happy, sad or bettersweet? What would happen in it?

ohhh if I were to be so indulgent…..I would just want it to be complete and utter joy, really. This is a manga with a general belief system of "you shouldn't settle for less than your dream", so it would be hypocritical for it to require our characters to fall into a bittersweet ending. Everyone should always keep trying, until they finally achieve their ultimate wish. 'Giving up' is against our moral. I would want the entire timeline rerouted, and to fully unpack that original future Tsuchigomori saw. For some reason, that was what was on the books…. so that has to in some way, be the 'authentic' timeline. I like to think it's the timeline composed of the truths of: if Tsukasa never came back, if Kou and Nene never entered the Red House, if Nene never met Amane on Tanabata, etc… just a complete uninterrupted natural timeline. No funny business other than the contained Red House imprisoning Tsukasa forever.

It would be a timeline where Amane is Nene-chan's teacher, and she's sorry for this listless older guy (Amane did not live so long ago that he would not be alive if he hadn't become a ghost.. he would be like, 55, NOW, but he could always meet Nene-chan in middle school too, and be in more like his 40s...)… who lost his twin at a young age…. wishes she could do anything for him. Nene-chan would remind him of Tsukasa, like she always does…. This Amane has also, not made it to the moon, not remotely. His simple Tanabata wish to be an astronaut does not come true-- he doesn't have a plethora of enchanted wishing-stripes given to him by a very special time-hopping girl, so his wish is meaningless, cosmically. He isn't anything close to an astronaut. This living Amane-sensei is seen by many as being some sort of ideal or happy man, some 'good timeline' but I don't think he would be, and I firmly do not believe it is 'the good timeline'… winding up a high school teacher is uhhhh… its not very impressive nor ambitious. He didn't become anything approaching his dreams. He seemingly settled for that which was possible for him to achieve. Kaii or human, I think Amane is a hopeless person, especially without either of his beloveds in his life. It's a piddly, meager life, of only existing for the sake of existing.

It's most charming to me if, somehow, by force of her feelings for Amane-sensei, Nene-chan is actually the root of all the timeline madness-- not Amane, not Tsukasa, but Nene-chan. She's our main character….she has some sort of enchanted quality…. so! I would actually like everything to ultimately be tied to her. I like Amane as this… doomed child…. and Tsukasa as his, equally doomed twin… these two just can't achieve anything on their own.

If I could choose any ending, I wish that we could do it all… that we could see Nene-chan as Amane-sensei's student… but that eventually, the final situation they turn up in is like, ah… Nene-chan becoming the twins, caretaker….? I would like to see Nene-chan living with both of the boys, making sure firsthand that their lives are happy…. I wish she could insist on the importance of Tsukasa being with Amane, too… I worry Tsukasa on his own, would too gladly leave Nene-chan and Amane alone together. I want it to be 'not good enough' for Nene…. we really love 'helped raise you' or 'grew up alongside you' romances in JSHK, lol (Sumire/Hakubo, Yako/Misaki, Akane/Aoi) so I think it'd be in AidaIro's tastes to have situations where everyone gets to kinda 'look after' each other, at some point.

I think my 'worst case scenario' is any ending where Tsukasa willingly churns himself into the soul furnace to power Amane's ideal future; its just not fair, and it would prove him right about needing to stay out of Amane's life, that existence is better without him, always, that he is no essential part of Amane's heart, that he is a burden, only, doomed to be such forever and ever, that the best he can be is DEAD. THAT WOULD CONTRADICT OUR MESSAGE!!! I want Nene-chan to know otherwise, and to fight for Tsukasa's place as much as Amane's. An advocate for these twins…. please, GOD!!! I want her to see what Amane living without Tsukasa was like…. to know that it's not fair for him to be asked to live without Tsukasa. We could return to the themes we visit in Picture Perfect… where we can't be satisfied with what paltry half-measure we have just because it's plausible. We have to dream of better, we have to want more than something just OK. Amane's life… cannot merely be, OK. You want him joyous…. you want him happy.

*picking my nose* man though, despite that I do think a lot about Akane/Aoi and the Minamotos, I think they contribute to the messages well, it's honestly impossible for me to say "where I'd like them to end up". All I really want is to see the Yugi twins and Nene-chan living successfully together. I have no idea how one saves Mitsuba, since his death doesn't even concern anything about Hanako-san >> just some guy who died, you know…. I can understand how/why Tsukasa wants to just completely flip everything asunder, and break every rule, to enable everything and anything to happen… I do not entirely know how you extricate the Minamoto family from their long, long lifetime, generations, of turmoil and self-inflicted abuse. I have no solution there. I simply want Nene-chan to use her sewing and cooking and gardening skills to raise the twins and bake them treats.

To put it simply: I want a very-very saccharine happy ending. In my mind it's a 15 year old Nene with the young boys clutching her Yukata at Tanabata.....

[vodkadoll98]

Just a PSA: Some people can bring out the worst in you from the toxic behaviors they’ve distributed and if they can’t admit that, they’ll never get it or grow as a person.

No, I shouldn’t have messaged you at all and let you stay delusional because you never liked to listen to opposite views regarding your behavior or take responsibility when it comes to someone you don’t like. I felt guilty after messaging you harshly from that eating disorder awareness account because I do have a conscience despite whatever you believe about me. I didn’t think you’d take the overall message seriously if I had made my identity clear, but it didn’t matter anyway to you. However it’s true that willingly promoting dangerous behaviors for attention and play is not positive or beneficial, and you’ve seen the picture of what fat does to your heart. It’s not empowering and it’s not just fantasy if it will affect your real life. Ask your doctor about it and see what he/she says. Also, harassing people from multiple different accounts with immature lies/nasty jokes long after you’ve cut ties (Telling a family member to message a former friend and threaten to behead them, DEFEND IT, but play as if you weren’t involved at all) and posting a bunch of misinforming TikToks to slander them but then acting surprised when they message you even though it was wrong/immature to stoop to your level, you will get what you give in life. “I should just let people do whatever they want to me?” Same here, even though most likely no sane person would believe someone who’s been in and out of mental hospitals several times and constantly posts about their drama like a 14 year old, blaming literally everyone else but themselves. It’s time to act your age instead of whining when things don’t go your way. Nobody owes you SHIT.

People with god complexes have excuses for everything. No I wasn’t perfect in our friendship and I’ve admitted that. I picked up some pretty unhealthy behaviors from you and other people/projected certain things dumb onto you from my past as well as you did to me, but you DID give me trauma that you won’t admit to, so why should anyone believe what you say? The world doesn’t have to kiss your ass in order to be unproblematic. If you constantly blame everyone else for your wrongdoings to defend yourself when you’re acting like someone else is bad for doing the same thing, that’s beyond comprehension. You’re a hypocrite. When you willingly engaged in/made up the idea for some of those things but it’s not your fault at all in your head, you are toxic.

Funny to call people like me transphobic when there are trans people out there who publicly agree with us but are shunned by much of the LGBT community because god forbid anyone doesn’t agree with them, even their own people. It’s delusional for you to think I wanted to leave you for only one reason when you were constantly destroying yourself in every way possible and messing up my nervous system, not to mention the fact that so many people in my life were baffled by the stability you openly showed that you lack, and thought it was best for me to no longer contact you. Most of your friends that are equally as mentally unstable as you, telling you that I was abusive from whatever you said has no relevance or true knowledge. It is in no way equal or logical for numerous reasons. I don’t even have to say it because looking at them and hearing about their actions/behaviors was enough. The others who may be closer to sane you manipulated because you’re good at that, much like your parent you despise and say you’re nothing like. People never want to hear the other side of the story.

“Don’t be angry because I decided to grow up,” okay.. so posting TikToks of yourself with binkies in your mouth, drawing childish furries to escape responsibility for your actions, never owning up to anything that you’ve done wrong, posting all of your personal info about your life publicly that literally no one needs to know but you and people close to you just to get attention, posting on your story you don’t believe you’ve ever grown up internally and that you’re likely just playing pretend, promoting stuffing yourself up until you get health issues and thinking that people who engage in that “fantasy” actually love you and want you to be healthy (which is twisted if you look at it from an outside perspective), calling anyone who doesn’t agree with your identity when you’ve changed your pronouns and sexuality nonstop bc you can’t seem to make up your mind a transphobe/bigot, saying you feel like a different person constantly, asking your friend if you’re actually trans and then insisting later on it wasn’t from self doubt but rather judgment, openly talking about your privates on your account and bragging about them but insisting you’re still a trans male with real dysphoria, telling your friend when you edged yourself and say you’ll need to talk to them about your sexual attraction/actions with females when they’re not comfortable because of their past, say you would make out with literally anyone but that doesn’t mean you’re attracted to them, make fun of your friend’s interests as a joke but then get offended suddenly when they do the same with you and proceed to call them unsupportive, get pissed that your friend didn’t believe in something that isn’t supported by science and is claimed by people who face many mental issues, defend posting about taking blood baths and downing a bunch of pills ironically after someone respectfully says they don’t want to be friends anymore and say suddenly that it wasn’t for that reason, defend shoplifting and acting like a baby as a legal adult in public, dress as the complete opposite gender than what you want to be referred to as and then get pissed when people point it out because you supposedly face dysphoria, thinking literally everything about your former friend is the same as it used to be because you’re projecting your insecurities onto them.. all of that isn’t childish or delusional at all? I beg to differ. You defend literally all of these behaviors. That is the opposite of growing up.

Whether you want to accept it or not, you influenced me in bad ways and guilted me into staying in your life because I felt sorry and terrified for you. I had to sit there shaking and crying SO MANY TIMES, wondering if you were going to kill yourself after you made it clear you had the intention to harm yourself in dangerous ways. You ended up in the mental hospital joking around as if everything was fine, and expect me to say you were a healthy and good friend to be around??? You shoplifted in front of me and justified it. We both could’ve gotten arrested. I told you to put it back but you didn’t listen. You decided to steal from a very valuable alcohol bottle from my grandmother but justified it because I drank some with you too. You elbowed her aggressively out of the way as you were walking by during the house drama and gave her a bruise. You shoved my mother and father back, but when your father did this to you, you cried that it was assault. You banged hard on my house from the outside and hit yourself in the head repeatedly instead of trying to calm the situation and prove that you’re mentally stable. You edited pictures of people you didn’t like in the most immature ways like a preteen, posted it when I told you it’s not a good idea, and then got pissed when they messaged you about it. You told me it was wrong to not want to hang out in public with someone in a fursuit in public because it makes me uncomfortable. I’m sorry but dressing up as a furry to go to the store, the park, or for god sakes in my damn backyard, is not normal to do as an adult and I do not as an adult woman NEED to be okay with and do everything you want me to, yet you expected me to do/be okay with EVERYTHING you wanted or I was automatically abusive? Get help is all I can say. You blame everyone possible but never stop to think about yourself. Look deep inside yourself if you’re able and question your actions. If you are not messed up like your parents then act like it.

I won’t name you out of respect, because I know I’m a good person. I am not immature or petty enough to do that. I’m proud of myself for how far I’ve come since we cut each other off. I acknowledge my past wrongs and I’ve grown from them just like I’ll grow all throughout my life like everyone else, but I won’t blame myself for things that I know were done for my own well-being. I’ve changed so so much within a few months after we stopped communicating and accomplished things in my life that people told me I never could. It’s been nearly two years now but it’s felt like many more with my growth and change of mind, and I’ve surrounded myself with better people. I really hope for people like you to realize one day though, they are not the saints/Gods they think they are. Spend time alone and think about everything you’ve done and if all of it was reasonable or if you could be wrong about some of it. It will change your life. Believe me.

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 17X9

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

I loved this episode! The writing was excellent, the cinematography was phenomenal, the acting was great, and the sets and costumes were gorgeous! They did some very interesting shots. It was very avant-garde and when done right I love that kind of thing. Also, we got to see Meredith back in action as she wandered around Teddy's dreamscape and talked to her which I loved. They took a risk with this episode and I think it paid off.

This episode was really beautiful in terms of the sets and costumes that we’re used. I loved Meredith’s jacket, the blue wedding dress that Teddy wears is gorgeous, and I loved her silk pyjama set and robe. Very fierce. I love that they recreated Teddy’s apartment in Germany and dressed it up for the wedding. That set was really cool! The flower arrangements were interesting, and the disco balls were a nice touch. I loved the hotel set where Tom and Teddy run away to. It was very flowy and surreal. Teddy’s bedroom in New York was also well done. The wicker bedframe made it feel particularly true to the era.

This episode made me feel like I have a better understanding of where Teddy is coming from now and it made her a lot more sympathetic and understandable than in the past. I’ve been open about the fact that I’ve found Teddy’s motivations and point of view difficult to understand this season. She spent the first half of the season treating Tom horribly for no discernable reason. She’s been cruel to Owen after finally getting what she wanted all these years and I repeatedly found myself wondering what she expected to have happen after she acted the way that she did.

I didn’t think it was possible for me to like Teddy after the way she’s been acting all season and the careless way she’s been treating other people, but this episode made me understand her a lot more and actually have sympathy for her. What this episode addressed in a big way is that Teddy has never gotten treatment or really dealt with the trauma that she has experienced in the way that other characters have.

Owen, Teddy, Megan, Riggs, April, and Parker all served in the military and experienced trauma as a result. But Teddy has never gotten treatment or any kind of help for what happened to her. We’ve seen Owen go through therapy for his PTSD and other issues multiple times across the seasons. We saw Megan receive treatment and she talks to Owen about the fact that both her and Riggs go to individual and couples’ therapy weekly to deal with their trauma and issues.

While we don’t see April go to therapy we do see her work through the trauma of having served, losing her son Samuel, losing her marriage, and we see her go through a crises of faith later on. We see her process those emotions and get help from those around her. Last we see of resident Casey Parker, Teddy and Amelia are admitting him for treatment and he’s reported to be doing better. We never see Teddy do any of that. We see her go to a grief group after Henry dies, but that’s it. As Amelia says to Owen in this episode, they have both openly acknowledged and received treatment for their illnesses and issues. Teddy never has and clearly that's been affecting her more than any of them, including Teddy, realized. This episode addressed the long standing issues that Teddy has and I’d like to see her get therapy going forward. Through Teddy’s dreams we find out that she blames herself for Allison’s death because she wanted to stay in and make her pancakes for breakfast, but Teddy said no.

Allison wound up going to the restaurant Windows on the World for breakfast and then to work at the World Trade Centre and Teddy grabbed something quickly and then went into work at the hospital. Teddy feels that if she had just said yes to breakfast and to Allison making her pancakes or if they’d both called into work and taken the day off that Allison wouldn’t have died, but as this episode makes clear Teddy couldn’t have known what was going to happen. And having breakfast with Allison may not have saved her life. She could have been somewhere nearby the day of the attack and suffered smoke inhalation or been hit by debris.

Or she could have randomly been hit by a car walking down the street. You just don't know what’s going to happen. But nevertheless, Teddy blames herself. In her flashbacks we see Teddy learn of her mother’s sudden and unexpected death at the age of 50. We learn that Teddy’s father was sick for years before he died that same year. That Allison carried her through that and that’s how they fell in love.

So, when Allison died in a horrific unexplainable terrorist attack that same year Teddy was gutted and so she ran away and joined the military in order to try and help the people who were trying to get the people who killed Allison. While serving in Iraq she fell in love with someone who was engaged and when she was discharged and they reconnected she found out he felt the same way but was with someone else who he later married.

So, she moved on and fell in love with someone else who promptly died. Owen then fired her so she would take her dream job at MedCom in Germany and when they reconnected once again, she found him married to someone else. He flew all the way to Germany to see her and she finally thought they were going to have their moment only to discover that he’d been sleeping with Amelia the night before. She kicked him out only to realize afterwards that she was pregnant.

She once again returned to Seattle only to find out that Owen and Amelia had gotten back together and had kids. So, she started over and began a relationship with Tom only for Owen to once again declare his love for her at the worst possible moment. They got back together and she thought she was happy, but the moment she realized that Amelia’s baby might be Owen’s she panicked and ran back to Tom.

Only to discover that the baby was Link’s and that she just blew her life up for no reason. She couldn’t admit to what she’d done because all of that is tied to her previous trauma that she still hasn’t dealt with. She couldn’t face Tom because she didn’t know how to explain her actions. She couldn’t tell Owen because she still doesn’t understand why did what she did and all of that is wrapped up in those past events that she still hasn’t come to terms with. Then Owen can’t forgive her because that lie makes him feel like everything about their relationship has been a lie.

As for the show choosing to introduce and explore Teddy’s deep love for Allison this late into Teddy's tenure I'm of two minds. On the one hand, I wish they had introduced or hinted at Teddy being bisexual or being in love with Allison earlier on in the series as it would have made more sense and been less of a shock. On the other hand, I've really enjoyed seeing the show explore this storyline more and dive deep into what trauma does to people and how the devastation of losing someone in a tragic incident such as 9/11 can make you close off parts of yourself. The actress who plays Allison, Sherri Saum, does a fantastic job and her and Kim Raver, who plays Teddy, have great chemistry. I found their scenes particularly moving.

As for Owen’s behaviour in this episode, while I understand why Owen was upset, I felt it was hypocritical of him to be so mad at Teddy for not telling him that her and Allison were lovers when he got involved with and married both Cristina and Amelia without telling them that Teddy existed. They both found out after or around the time they got married to him that he was in love with Teddy when she showed up in Seattle. What Teddy did was awful, but Owen's no saint. He's done just as bad and worse. I think it's time for him to let go of his animosity toward her and forgive her. I'm also just really sick of watching them fight all the time. No thank you.

As Amelia says to Owen in this episode, forgiving her doesn't mean that they get back together. It can simply mean that he chooses to let go of his angry and work through his emotions so that they can be friends and co-parent together as he and Amelia have done. I thought Amelia was great in this episode. We saw her step up and advocate for Teddy and counsel Owen even though she didn’t have to.

She told Owen what he needed to hear knowing he was likely to listen to her more than others. She supported Teddy and advocated for her even though she didn't have to because that's who Amelia is and she wants Teddy to experience the same sanity and peace that she's attained now that she's had her brain tumour removed and has her addiction under control. Plus, I think she genuinely wants Owen to be happy and for the kids that they are all raising together to be happy. Happy parents make for happy children. She wants that for them.

Amelia has grown so so much in the past few seasons. She’s gone from someone who was mentally unstable and out of control to the point that she refused help for what were clearly serious issues for literal years and then treated Meredith horribly after Derek’s death and made everything about her and whined and complained when Owen and Meredith pointed out that she wasn’t the only one who missed Derek and that Meredith did not have the luxury of falling apart because she had three small children who need her to someone who is sane and stable and has her addiction under control to the point that she is able to advocate and help others and is able to support Meredith and look after her kids with kindness and compassion.

I loved the Beth and Cristina mentions in this episode and all of the flashbacks especially the early one to when Teddy first shows up and we the audience learn that her and Owen have been in love forever, but he's with Cristina and before that he was engaged to Beth. In this episode we saw Meredith and DeLuca accompany and guide Teddy throughout her dreamscapes which I thought worked really well.

I loved seeing Meredith up and about and talking to Teddy and guiding her through her trauma and her response to it. Meredith is Teddy's patient, she wants her to live, and because Cristina and Amelia are her sisters and she's known Owen by extension for a long time she has information that's useful to Teddy so I thought that made sense. I particularly loved the field of bodies scene in the snow where Teddy is blaming herself for Allison, Henry, and DeLuca’s death and Meredith’s tells her there’s nothing she could have done.

Then at the end Meredith says to her, “Come on let’s leave this place.” And Teddy looks at her and says, “Please don’t die.” And Meredith says, “I’ll try.” I thought was funny and also very poignant. DeLuca helping to guide her made sense to me in that he was someone she worked with closely during the pandemic and who died on her table. She desperately wanted to turn back time and save him the same way she wanted to save Allison, her parents, and Henry.

While I’ve never been a DeLuca fan, I genuinely thought his scenes in this episode were funny and the actor had good comedic timing. The road trip with Tom and DeLuca was hilarious. It makes me wonder what the character could have been if they gone with a more comedic route. What would have happened if in Season 15 instead of pivoting and going in a completely differently direction they had stayed the course and after getting his mojo back had him continue to pursue Neurosurgery as a speciality, had Amelia continue to mentor him, and given him more comedic dialogue.

I think that really could have worked well because from Seasons 12 to 14 DeLuca worked well as a side character and in a supporting role. I didn’t have a particularly strong opinion on the character back then and I only started to hate him as a character in Season 15 when they turned him into a complete asshole who was rude and disrespectful to everybody for no good reason. Presumably out of fondness for the actor they decided to give him a bigger role in Season 15 and made the choice to pivot from him having a supporting role to a romantic storyline and then a dramatic one.

Which was a real shame because it took DeLuca from being a decent side character that most fans either liked or were neutral on to being a real asshole that most fans hated and couldn’t stand. The reality is that character and that actor just didn’t work in a romantic storyline with the main character and his mental health storyline did not come across as intended. I think that’s because the actor and character were best suited to a supporting or comedic role and just didn’t work as a romantic lead or in a dramatic storyline.

My favourite scene of the episode was when Tom and Teddy were in the hotel room and the grenade suddenly appeared and then it went off! I didn't expect it to actually go off and blow up Tom! That shocked me and made for an interesting transition. I really liked seeing more of Tom in this episode. He’s a great character and he’s contracting of COVID-19 has really sidelined him recently so I enjoyed seeing him back in action. The actor, Greg Germann, has great comedic timing so that was a treat to see and I loved seeing more of Tom and Teddy together at the hotel room.

Until next time!

[daringyounggrayson]

written for the lovely @aeligsido as part of a gift exchange!

Summary: After an argument with Bruce, Dick retaliates by running off to a not-so-safe part of Gotham. During his misadventure, he drinks a slushie, stops an attempted robbery, and lands himself in someone else’s trunk. He can’t exactly say that his current situation is a surprise, but that doesn’t mean getting out of it is going to be a piece of cake. Especially when he has a head injury working against him.

oOo

In retrospect, Dick made a lot of stupid decisions tonight.

The first stupid decision had been starting up the concert argument again which, at this point, is a losing battle that isn’t really about a concert anymore. Dick still doesn’t understand how going on a mission in space isn’t a big deal but going to a concert with a few friends who happen to be in college is. Especially since Dick met the “college kids” when they were all still in high school together. And, besides, a couple of the people he went on the space mission with are the same age as the aforementioned college kids.

Dick didn’t—doesn’t—even care about the concert that much; he’s annoyed that Bruce is being a controlling hypocrite and treating Dick like a child. He’s annoyed that after all these years of continuously proving himself to Bruce, the man still doesn’t trust him.

So what did Dick do to show Bruce why he should trust him? A series of stupid, stupid things that served the sole purpose of making Bruce angry. And to make it worse, Dick knew how stupid they were and chose to do them anyway. He knew he was being stupid when he left his phone at home, and he knew he was being stupid when he ignored Bruce’s use of Dick’s full name as he left the grounds. He knew he was being stupid when he immediately drove to a not-so-safe part of Gotham just so he could rub it in Bruce’s face later.

The point is, Dick knows it won’t be fun when he eventually has to face Bruce’s wrath and whatever punishment is waiting for him the second he gets home—but Dick doesn’t care. Right now, Bruce is an ass and Dick finally has some space to think, to breathe. Plus, just by sitting outside this gas station and drinking a cherry slushie at eleven o’clock at night, in perfect view of a security camera no less, he knows he’s making Bruce furious. That part’s fun. So is thinking about how Bruce is probably watching him from said security camera, fuming and trying to figure out how to handle the situation he’s found himself in. It’s almost worth the inevitable grounding. (Almost.)

It stays fun right up until Dick notices two guys walking into the gas station, hiding their faces. Dick watches them carefully, still sipping his slushie and doing his best to seem innocuous. The second they pull out guns, Dick runs in, wishing he’d brought his phone with him so he could’ve called the police first. Wishing he’d brought a mask so he could’ve had more options.

But, stupid mistakes already made, he only has one option: get their attention and disarm them.

What happens after entering the gas station is kind of a blur. He remembers getting their attention, and he remembers emptying bullets onto the floor, so he must have disarmed them. But he’s not sure how quickly or efficiently he’d done that; he’d heard gunshots, he’s sure of that much, but he doesn’t remember if anyone had been hit.

He also remembers that he’d been recognized as Bruce Wayne’s kid at some point, and the situation had quickly shifted from a robbery/mugging to a kidnapping. Dick remembers trying to resist, and he’s pretty sure he broke someone’s nose in the process. The last thing he’s sure about is being pinned to the ground. He can’t remember which goon had done that, but before Dick could so much as think about getting out of the hold, they’d slammed his head against the ground hard enough to knock him unconscious for a second, hard enough to disorient him long enough to shove him in a trunk.

Now, in the trunk, Dick realizes another stupid decision he’d made: he didn’t bring his Robin belt with him and now getting out of this isn’t going to be a piece of cake.

What feels like fifteen minutes later, Dick’s tied to a chair in some car repair shop with a skull-splitting headache. His situation isn’t exactly ideal, but he knows that if it comes down to it, he’ll be able to get out of this—he’s Robin the Boy Wonder after all. It just won’t be easy, and his odds of coming out of it unscathed aren’t exactly low. Especially since the two men have guns again and Dick’s pretty sure his head is already bleeding.

The more Dick thinks about it, the more he hopes that Bruce had been watching him on that security camera.

“Alright, kid, what’s daddy’s number?”

Dick tilts his head up to look at the guy holding the phone, trying to figure out why he wants a dead man’s phone num—oh. Bruce. He means Bruce.

Dick doesn’t usually have to type Bruce’s number. It’s not often that he calls Bruce, and when he does, it’s almost always on his cellphone, so Dick just dials from his contacts. He knows the number by heart anyway though. It’s just that the pounding in his head—the one that’s getting worse the more he tries to focus—is making it hard to think; it’s making it take longer to access the information Dick knows is there.

“Uh,” Dick starts, trying to recall the numbers and what order they go in. But then again, is it even worth it? Will Bruce answer a call from an unknown number? And what time is it? The odds of him answering drop significantly if he’s already on patrol. Maybe Dick should call Alfred instead.

Impatient, phone-guy kicks Dick’s chair, sending him back a few inches with a screech. Dick blinks as the world spins and his stomach threatens to give up his slushie.

“Come on! I’m not asking again.”

“Chill, man,” the other guy cuts in, voice sounding slightly off and distorted. He has dried blood on his face and his nose looks crooked.

Huh, Dick thinks, guess I did break someone’s nose.

“You chill.”

Another kick to the chair, and this time it forces a mouthful of cherry slushie into his mouth. Dick grimaces as he forces it back down, squeezing his eyes shut as someone yells at him and tugs his head back by his hair.

Dick rattles off Bruce’s number, hoping that he’ll answer so Dick can go home and forget about all of his stupid, stupid decisions. Maybe Bruce will even take pity on him and forgo the lecture and grounding—not that Dick will be leaving the house any time soon if this headache is an indication of anything.

A phone is shoved against his ear and Dick flinches at the contact, snapping his eyes open and looking around.

“Dick? Are you alright?” Bruce is asking, voice controlled but urgent.

“Where are you?” Dick asks.

“I’m on my way,” Bruce says. “Everything will be alright, I promise.”

Dick doesn’t feel alright; maybe Bruce hadn’t been watching the cameras. “Did you see me?”

“Wha—”

The phone is gone and the lights shut off.

“Shit, shit, shit,” nose-guy rambles, voice higher than before as he slaps his hand over Dick’s mouth. Dick twists his head to try to get out of the man’s grip but it doesn’t work.

“Shut up,” phone-guy hisses. “Do you want to get caught?”

“Come out with your hands up!”

Dick’s first thought is a sarcastic guess the GCPD isn’t completely useless, and his second is one of relief. The third is that he should probably help them out, so he starts shouting behind the hand covering his mouth and kicking his legs against the chair, trying to create as much noise as possible.

“Shit, shit, shit,” nose-guy repeats, working himself into a conniption. “What do we do?”

“Would you pull it together,” phone-guy hisses, simultaneously slapping his hand over nose-guy and trying to still Dick’s legs. “Kid, if you don’t chill out, I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

Dick knows a bluff when he hears one, and Dick also knows this guy knows he’s about to get caught and doesn’t want to add murder to his list of charges. So Dick keeps yelling, and—shocker—his head stays bullet-free.

Not even a minute later, a flashlight dances across Dick’s face, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. When he opens them again, he can make out two police officers, both wielding guns and flashlights.

The one yells, “Hands up—now!”

The hand is gone from Dick’s mouth and his legs are no longer being held down.

“Okay. Keep them up and step away from the kid. Nice and slow.”

The other officer moves to Dick’s side, immediately going to untie the ropes. “You alright, kid?”

“Yeah,” Dick says, moving his arms in front of him and rubbing at his wrist once the ropes are gone. The officer presses something—gauze, probably—against Dick’s still bleeding head. He winces, holding back a hiss. “Aside from my head.”

“Sorry about that. EMTs are on their way,” the officer assures, keeping a straight face and not giving any indication of how bad the injury is. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Richard Grayson,” Dick says. Instead of looking at the officer, Dick watches as the wanna-be kidnappers are led out of the car repair shop in handcuffs.

“Alright, Richard, while we wait for medical to get down here, how about we call your parents and let them know you’re okay, yeah?”

Dick nods and rattles off Bruce’s number.

oOo

Dick’s would-be kidnappers were some of the worst he’s ever seen, and as Robin, he’s seen quite a few. They barely had him for thirty minutes, and that includes the time spent at the gas station. Their license plates got called in twice: once from the store clerk who found their license plate by checking the security footage, and a second time when Dick kicked out one of the car’s taillights and someone behind them saw Dick’s hand sticking out. And then—this part still makes Dick laugh—they just parked the car right in front of their so-called hideout. The hideout belonged to a friend, but they forgot about the silent alarm, so when they tripped it and didn’t key in the code to turn it off, the police were alerted a third time.

Bruce was probably tracking their call, too, but it wasn’t necessary because the police showed up at the car repair shop five minutes after Dick and his kidnappers did. Dick was almost embarrassed about getting knocked in the head by one of them, but he felt a little better when he found out that both of them were on their high school’s wrestling team—or at least, the EMT who apparently went to high school with them had been pretty sure.

“Richard’s right over here.”

Dick peels his arm off his face and opens his eyes when he hears the nurse. The curtain is pulled back and Bruce is standing there. The amount of relief Dick feels just by seeing Bruce is something he won’t admit to. It almost feels like that time he’d lost his mom at a craft store as a kid, specifically the moment when they’d found each other again and she’d pulled him into her arms. She’d been just as relieved as Dick, so much that she hadn’t berated him at all for running off. She’d just held him close and whispered Dick, thank god while pressing kisses into his hair.

“Dick, thank god.” Bruce looks like he’s experiencing a similar feeling, albeit the flipped version, the one his mom had felt. Or something close to it. Then, to the nurse, “Thank you.”

“Hey,” Dick says, quirking his lips into a small, brief smile.

Bruce’s brows furrow, looking Dick over and lingering on the bandage over his head where he’d needed stitches. Bruce is rigid, uncertain. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, Bruce, honest,” Dick tries to assure. He sits up, moving his hand to reach for Bruce. Before he can complete the action, Bruce tugs him into a tight hug and it’s not until that moment that something in Dick’s chest unravels and he realizes he’s okay.

Bruce pulls back for a moment, scanning Dick’s face and looking like he wants to say something. He doesn’t. Just brushes Dick’s hair back before pressing a kiss against his forehead. Then he pulls Dick back into the hug, resting his cheek against the side of Dick’s head that’s still intact.

“Are you mad?” The evening started with a fight, one that hadn’t really been finished, and if Dick hadn’t left just to piss Bruce off, none of this would have happened. Though, the look on Bruce’s face and the heaviness on his shoulders tells Dick that he doesn’t care about that right now.

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” Dick holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable addendum. “We can talk about this when you’re feeling better.”

So, no punishment, but the conversation—the argument—isn’t over.

Dick scowls but, for whatever reason, he doesn’t pull away from Bruce’s hold.

Bruce shifts to sit beside Dick on the bed, keeping one arm wrapped around Dick’s shoulder in a side hug. Dick rests his head against Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce presses a kiss into Dick’s hair. Dick doesn’t mind.

“Tired?” Bruce asks after a while.

Dick nods.

“Get some sleep. We’ll likely be here for a few hours.”

Dick groans. “Why can’t we just go home? I feel fine.” Well, relatively.

Bruce squeezes Dick’s shoulder. “According to your doctor, you have a concussion and likely a linear skull fracture. I doubt they will be discharging you anytime soon.”

“Yeah, but can’t you Brucie Wayne us out of this?”

“Not this time, chum.” Dick can’t see Bruce’s face from this angle, but his voice sounds like he’s frowning.

As much as Dick wants to argue his way out of the ER, he also wants to lie down again. His headache is getting worse and so is the nausea. He already threw up once and it’s not exactly something he wants to have happen again. Especially since Dick’s cherry slushie turned the vomit red, which understandably concerned the medical staff.

Dick sighs and lifts his head, and Bruce mirrors the action by pulling away and standing up. Dick lies down and Bruce hesitates before moving to a chair. Dick reaches to grab Bruce’s hand, which Bruce accepts immediately.

They’re quiet, Dick dozing for a while until the doctor comes back with the CT results, confirming both the concussion and the linear skull fracture. The good news is that Dick will live, the bad news is that he has to stay put for a few hours so they can observe him and make sure nothing goes wrong. He supposes it could’ve been worse, though; Bruce reminds him that they could’ve admitted Dick and kept him overnight.

Bruce calls Alfred to give him the update after the doctor leaves. Alfred didn’t come along because Barbara had already left for patrol and he didn’t like the idea of her being on her own and not having anyone to assist her via comms as needed. It had been the right decision, but when Bruce hands Dick the phone to talk to Alfred, Dick hears concern and worry and guilt in the man’s voice. It hadn’t been easy for Alfred to refrain from running to Dick’s bedside tonight, and he’s sure Alfred will hover for the next few days, but Dick won’t mind.

The phone call ends with Alfred passing on well-wishes from Babs and an exchange of I love yous between Alfred and Dick. Alfred lets Dick hang up first, and then it’s just Dick and Bruce once more.

Bruce not exactly being the best conversationalist and Dick being very much concussed, Dick decides to sleep some more. But before Dick falls asleep, Bruce’s chair shifts.

Leaning closer to Dick, Bruce murmurs, “I’m … I do trust you, Dick. And I’m proud of you—every day.”

They had exchanged a lot of hurtful words during their argument, but right now, none of them feel true. Not what Dick had said, and not what Bruce had said or hadn’t said. Funny how a crisis can make everything else feel so small and insignificant, if even for a moment.

“I know, B.” Dick reaches blindly for Bruce’s hand, squeezing it when he finds it. “Love you too.”

[carinyms]

We're three days from the Loki finale and I’m back to spout more meta and theories about episodes 5 & 6! It’s a long one (again.)

I really enjoyed episode five. People have complained that they felt it didn't do much to move the show forward, but one of the things I've loved most about this show is the time it takes to sit with the characters and learn about their backstory, their feelings. (I'm always a little bugged when critics say that an episode hasn't done enough to move the plot forward, because without adequate character development, why should I care about the plot?) I thought the pacing of it was really well balanced.

….and I have never been so nervous for a finale in my entire life. There’s a lot of reasons.

The first is just the fact that I’ve been waiting for this show for a whole year, and the anticipation and excitement of it literally helped get me through the pandemic--so when those final end credits roll I’m going to be a whole mess no matter what happens. (I really hope the rumors floating around about season two are accurate) I also just feel like it’s somewhat inevitable that this is our final farewell to Tom’s Loki, and like—I’ll never be ready, but especially right now, amidst all the rampant controversy around this show, I’m just not ready to deal with that. I have a *small* modicum of hope that this won't be the case, but it feels unlikely. Anyway, guess I’ll die.

I really want this show to stick the landing, so to say. I loved the last episode, but a lot of the response has been that it felt like a lull in the plot. I want this show to end in a satisfying bang so it can get the credit it deserves.

Also I’m a whole hypocrite eating my words from last week—I’m fully on-board with Loki/Sylvie now (not that I was ever really against it)--I’m not sure why I’m surprised. They’re so adorable and wholesome, and I’m in love with seeing Loki in love. It’s so precious. (Just as a PSA, if you’re not into them that’s chill, and you’re allowed to dislike a ship without trying to justify your opinion by labeling shippers as morally problematic. Selfcest isn’t a real thing, therefore there isn’t a moral high ground to stand on here. Okay? Okay.) Wherever it ultimately leads, their relationship is still a really sweet exploration of them both growing and learning how to love themselves and trust others. Also, them cuddling under a tablecloth is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen with my two eyes.

MY THEORIES:

I love Sylvie so much, SO MUCH — and she is 100% going to stab Loki in the back by the end of the next episode. I don’t think the betrayal is going to stick, and by the end they’ll both be on the same page again, but the conversations on trust have been way too one-sided for my comfort. If nothing else she's going to seriously consider it. Here’s one way I can see that going. Spoiler alert: it hurts.

Sylvie betrays Loki at one point—and we see Loki’s growth and arc come full circle as, even after being betrayed by the person he hinged his entire development around, he still believes in doing the right thing, in saving her regardless. It ends in a heart-wrenching self-sacrifice of some kind, and his actions serve as the catalyst for her full development as well. We keep seeing different versions of Loki die for their ‘glorious purpose’, just like how Classic Loki shouts the phrase as he was consumed by Aloith (RIP King, I love you).

Loki has already called Sylvie his glorious purpose (or inferred it). There’s been backlash around him saying that, but the way I see it, it’s less “I’m obsessed with this girl she’s my purpose now” and more “I believe that she’s the best version of us and I’m going to make it my purpose to help her succeed and be what the rest of us aren’t”. That’s why seeing all the other variant Loki’s at their worst in the Loki clubhouse (? what do I call this lol) only fuels him more to find her. I think about what Mobius told him: “You exist to cause pain and suffering and death, all so others can achieve the best versions of themselves”. I don’t think Loki truly believes he can be the best version of Loki — I think he saw Sylvie and thought, "it's her". He’s decided he’s going to help her achieve the best version of herself, but he'll do it giving her love and trust and devotion, rather than through betrayal, pain and suffering. He’s re-writing his pre-determined role, in his own small way. I’m so proud of him.

So who’s behind it all and what’s truly going on here? (This isn’t really one theory, more like a string of possibilities and I don’t really know how they’d fit together.)

I still think it’s another version of Loki. And if it is, I can’t help but appreciate the connections between his position dictating the end of time in the show in relation to Loki’s role in the Norse myths, where he’s the catalyst for the destruction of all things. It feels relevant, considering the whole idea that ‘the end of time hasn’t been written yet’ has come up twice now. That would be a fascinating tie-in to the mythology. (Also—Alioth looks like a giant dog. And Fenrir’s role in Ragnarok was devouring the world—I realize this is a reach but am I the only person seeing this connection?) The thing I really can’t predict is the motivation. What would cause a Loki to want to prevent Loki’s from changing? Was there something that happened in the sacred timeline this Loki is trying to preserve? (I also like the idea of us maybe seeing another version of Sylvie behind it all, but I’m just going to leave that rabbit hole alone. )

But here’s the theory I can’t stop thinking about. There’s a theory floating around tik tok (by user twelvepercentcredit) saying the ‘castle’ we see beyond Alioth looks like a place called the House of Ideas, something that appeared in a (discontinued?) Loki comic. Here’s the wiki page on it. Just looking at the imagery of this compared to the location we’re seeing in the trailers, it’s too similar to be a coincidence. The huge bookshelves, the towering ceilings.

Here’s a description from the wiki:

“The House of Ideas is also home to a library which archives the exploits of every hero who has ever existed in the form of books, written unconsciously by the collective minds of their believers. This collection is curated by Now and Then, two of the children of Eternity. Now and Then routinely seek out heroes to bring into the House of Ideas to bargain with them and give their collections more pages, therefore more time for adventures and exploits. “

And later on the page on how Loki ties in:

“Heeding the desire in Loki's heart to do more with his life, Now and Then approached Loki and brought him to the House of Ideas,[5] where they struck up with him the deal to give more pages to his collection of exploits, rewriting the Books of Loki with a hero's stories in exchange for an eventual hero's death.”

Are they gonna play with the exact happenings of this? I don't know, but it sounds pretty cool!

It would be gutsy to go this route with the show given how meta it is, but I love the idea of it. Would they put characters that embody the abstract ideas of “Eternity” “Now & Then” into the show in the last episode? I’m not sure. Something I could see as a possibility though is an alternate version of Loki having overthrown whoever was previously guarding the timeline, and Loki and Sylvie will have to take them down in turn, thus ‘releasing’ the multiverse to its default, chaotic state.

What if our Loki’s ultimate destiny, ultimate Glorious Purpose, is to release the timelines--restoring all the variants back to their original timelines--and remain in this place for eternity, guarding the timeline and ensuring the multiverse is allowed to exist in its natural state? It seems a pretty fitting role for the God of Chaos. It would also explain why whoever’s behind the TVA would be so desperate to eliminate all variant Loki, if that was his ultimate destiny.

It would be an effective way to remove Hiddleston’s Loki from the movie-verse without killing him, AND place both Sylvie and any other Loki variants back in the the main timeline for use in future films—which we know has to happen somehow, because Young Avengers is definitely happening, and Kid Loki has got to get out of the void somehow.

And yea, this outcome would hurt like a bitch. Because even though that would truly be a lovely glorious purpose for our Loki, he’d be alone. And the whole point of this show is that he doesn’t have to be alone! It would be a very poetic sacrifice for him to take on the burden of watching over the timelines alone for all eternity so that his other variants could be the best versions of themselves, but I really just want him to be happy. I will be crying my eyes out if this happens. I’ll be proud but I won’t be okay.

And this all is probably speculative nonsense and could go off in an entirely different direction. Who knows. All in all, I just really want to see Loki fully believe in himself and his ability, to truly absorb what he said about being stronger than he realizes, and to take control of his destiny.

WHAT I WANT (NEED) FROM EPISODE 6:

Let Hunter B-15 and Mobius team up to burn the place to the ground. She was nerfed in the time-keeper fight, I want to see B-15 kick some ass.

I kind of want Ravonna to escape and be a character that carries over into the films for her tie-ins with Kang? I want to see more of her.

Give Loki a new badass costume. I’m begging. If he’s gonna go down, he deserves to go down in something other than khakis.

And then I want to see him and Sylvie fighting side by side in matching outfits.

I want a Mobius-level hug between them. Or a kiss. Or both. But I want the hug more. And you know what? I want her to initiate the hug or kiss or whatever it is because I want Loki to experience receiving love and affection from others as much as giving it. He deserves it ok??

I expect Mobius on a jet ski in the post credits and if I don’t get it I riot

@marvel these are my demands.

As always, if you've made it this far I'd love to hear your thoughts!

[zhonglishrine]

Between The Lines

Pairing: Dazai Osamu x Reader Word Counts: 3.5k Note: Dedication to @yokelish​ -senpai uwu <3 **It’s about a girl who’s hopelessly in love— maybe not— with bandaged bastard. Why am I doing Dazai and not my beloved Gogol? because SENPAI that’s why, haha ily <3 and thank you so much for @soukokuwu​ for editing and proofread this one cringy fic! <3

You entered your apartment. You didn’t even bother to check the time, you just knew it was later than when you usually got home. The sun was setting; the sky was painted in beautiful different shades of gold, but all you saw were the dark clouds casting gloomy shadows. Dragging your feet, you closed the door. Did you even lock it? Not that you bothered to check. You were too tired to care or even think of it anymore. Every breath you took felt so heavy and you were exhausted from working long hours. Every day it was the same thing on repeat. Every move you made felt so strained and the bag you carried felt like a burden. You flung it on the floor and started undressing, strewing your clothes aside, and entered the bathroom.

You turned on the tap and let it slowly fill the bathtub, impatiently getting in even before it was full. You felt the cold water against your skin and watched the bubbles forming near the mouth of the tap. In contrast to the quiet surroundings, the thoughts in your mind were deafening, not allowing for a moment of relaxation. But you weren’t surprised. There was never a break given from such intrusive thoughts. How you wished you could get rid of them, how you wished it was as simple as dirt being washed away, but no matter what you did they stayed like a stubborn stain. Why did you have to feel this way? It only served to hurt you more inside. And the worst part is? You knew better, and yet there was nothing you could do about it. It felt like there were thorns wrapped around your heart, painfully digging into it each time you breathed. Ironically, what made you feel like dying, was also the one thing that reminded you that you were alive.

But it felt so lonely, so unfair, for you to be the only one feeling this way.

How you wished things were different from the start, but now you were the only one left to handle the consequences. You loved someone too hard, and now you were paying the price for your futile pursuits.

*****

With eyes as dark as the dead of the night, he drew you in from the first time you met; an irresistible attraction that pulled you in and eventually crushed you with its weight, leaving you behind in the rubble once it exploded. You thought you had met your ideal man at last. He was handsome, charming, funny.  Even though you didn’t know him long, you believed he could be the one. Or at least, you thought so.

He seemed to be interested in you at first, as though he was curious to know everything about you when you first joined the Armed Detective Agency. There had been a vacancy for a clerk, and you had gone for the interview the moment you saw the notice.

You were nervous even before the interview started. You couldn’t even get much sleep the night before. They had told you that the President was not in yet and brought you to see him instead. Your heart was pounding erratically by then. If this person was filling in for the President he must be important; he must have a vital role in the agency, one of high authority.

“So tell me, one interesting fact about yourself.” Dazai was the one who asked that.

Anxiously tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and biting your lips, you answered him with as much confidence as you could muster. You were saying it with a serious face, but all you got was Dazai laughing at your answer, wiping at fake tears. What? Did you say something funny? You were confused, unamused. But he merely welcomed you and said that you passed. Just like that, you became one of them.

It wasn’t easy to adjust to the work environment at first, but they were all nice and Dazai had been the one tasked to guide you, much to the disagreement of his partner. But it didn’t matter, because before you knew it, you were already attracted to him.

Dazai always wore bandages, covering his forearms, even his neck. Where else he had it on you didn’t know, but it definitely wasn’t normal. You wondered why he wore them at first, but you came to learn that he was a ‘suicidal maniac’, or so Kunikida called him that. You felt conflicted about it, given how comedic he made it seem. But you knew it had to be deeper than that. You could see it in his smiles, they felt empty. You could hear it in his laughs, they sounded hollow. It was all a mask; an illusion, something that he created to shield his true self; something to manipulate people into thinking that fake, comedic Dazai was the real Dazai. Though, if you were completely honest, you knew nothing about who he really was, nothing about his past, and even his present seemed murky. He never let anything personal about himself slip through his mouth. Dazai calculated everything - his steps, his speech, his body movements, even. You were beginning to realize that you would never be able to understand the brunette at all, but of one thing you were sure: you had fallen for him, and it was too late to turn back.

The line between admiration and infatuation is obscure. A simple, innocent feeling can turn into one of obsession and possession just like that. A simple, innocent feeling can turn into some sickening emotion that some people can’t handle logically. All rationality will dissolve and dissipate like froth in the vast ocean until there is no other choice but to drown oneself in the sea of madness. All because of love, that which makes us blind; a concept that distorts nearly all rationality. Without restrictions or self-control over it, the one madly in love would ultimately be driven to self-destruction and despair if their feelings go unreciprocated.

And it was unfortunate then, if you already knew of the consequences but yet you fell for the trap anyway. You were already in too deep - too deep in these feelings that held your heart hostage and suffocated you with its strong grip; these feelings that rendered you breathless as you struggled to pine for something you couldn’t have. It felt like it was draining the life out of you like it was sucking your soul dry. It felt like stretching out for a mirage of an oasis after an endless chase in a scorching desert, only to find that in the end, it was yet another hopeless endeavor.

Yet, no matter how futile it always seemed, you were too blinded by love to learn your lesson, continuing to be hopelessly in love with Dazai, letting him lead you on, time and time again. You clung on to every hope he held out to you, no matter how flimsy it was. You wanted him to look at you and you alone, to feel the same way you felt about him. Something told you it was the same as asking for the impossible, but you ignored that voice in your head each time. Just like how you ignored it when it told you the brutal truth - that Dazai was not yours and never would be. Still, it didn’t stop you from trying for him. Your heart longed for him, it prayed for his love each night before you slept. He was the only thing on your mind, etched into your heart and flowing in your bloodstream. You knew not what life would be without him. Your love for him consumed you; you would do anything for him, even if it meant pulling a knife against your throat to prove it.

Before you met him, you had nothing; no ambitions - you lived your monotonous life, just going with the flow. If you hadn’t gone out that day, if you hadn’t seen the poster about the job vacancy, you wouldn’t be where you are right now. You would probably just rot away at home with no job, no will to live, and no hope for tomorrow. Your life was entirely empty and meaningless. But the moment you met him, you found a reason; a purpose. He filled the void in your heart even when you thought it wasn’t possible. Dazai is completely the opposite one, and it’s funny how he was the one to give you a reason to live, when he couldn’t even find one himself; when he was the one with the hopeless and pessimistic outlook on life; when he was the one that wanted to die.

Dazai was the only one who saw through you. He was the only one who called you out on it - for being a people pleaser, for being pretentious and superficial with everyone. It was the first anyone had done that to you. It made you feel offended, exposed. Because it was true. What a hypocrite you were, hating that Dazai put up a comedic facade only to put up one of your own. You acted the way you thought people wanted you to, and you threw your real feelings away in the process. It was disgusting, really, how easily you were able to put on a smile and spout sugar-coated words just to appease other people’s egos. You felt a little quiver in your heart when Dazai pointed that out to you. Was it out of fear of being exposed? Or maybe, just maybe, it was because you finally met someone who understood you.

“Senpai, I love you.”

“I know~”

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach when Dazai responded to your little confession with a playful smirk. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling and blushing and feeling exactly like a high school girl giddily in love. It was fleeting happiness that you hadn’t felt for a long time. You only said such things when no one else was around like it was a sort of secret routine between you and him, and you wanted to keep it that way.

Just between the two of you.

It wasn’t wrong to hope, right?

*****

You always looked forward to talking with him and found yourself searching for his figure whenever he wasn’t around. This was all part of your downfall. It was little things, like this little routine you had with him, and the feelings of hope you tied to him, that would ultimately cause it. You needed his constant attention, getting all clingy and possessive whenever someone else would try to get close to him. You texted him every single day to ask about his day, getting upset over the smallest things like not getting a reply or when you were ignored. It felt incomplete to you if you hadn’t heard or seen him for even a day. You’d always try to get a hold of his whereabouts and would constantly be worried about his absence. You got attached way too much and got too emotionally dependent on him, and you fooled yourself into thinking it was all out of love.

You fell for Dazai too hard, and it wasn’t something you could easily recover from. Seeing him was like having a fever dream. He was all you could think about, and what you centered your life around. Every aspect of him and his life piqued your interest. You even fantasized about a life with him, to be together with him, physically, emotionally. It slowly turned into an obsession, and you weren’t totally dense. You knew how unhealthy it was.

You were no Snow White and he was no Prince Charming, but if given a choice, you’d still consume the poisonous apple and risk your own life if it meant he would save you and love you for the rest of his life. You’d do anything to prove that you loved him. Even if it meant gouging your own heart out and carving his name on it, even if you had to bleed out and let your bones turn to ash, or even if you had to be buried alive. You would do it. But despite all you would do, all you would get was his signature head-pat, as if he didn’t take you seriously and never would. As if you didn’t know already, he would never love you back, or do as much as you would for him. You thought you were fine with it, content to be in this position, with being just his friend, but you weren’t.

How could you be fine when you felt anger just seeing him talk to someone else? How could you be fine when you felt the anger boiling up as he was flirting with other people? How could you be fine when he gave his attention so freely to anyone else but not you? It drove you to the brink of madness and frustrated you to no end because it was as if he did it intentionally, knowing the fact that you would be jealous. And the fact that you couldn’t do anything about it but accept it left you exasperated. It almost drives you crazy. But you were still sane enough to control your impulsive thoughts. Or else, you were tempted to get rid of anyone who tried to get in your way. He was like a poisonous drug, consume too much and you would drown yourself in its toxins, losing yourself in the process. But there was no one else to blame. After all, it was your decision to love him despite all the red lights you saw; the warnings other people gave you.

How silly of you, to turn a deaf ear to their words. You thought you knew better but how wrong you were. You couldn’t see it yourself - how you started losing your mind the closer you got to Dazai Osamu. You didn’t see how your friends started to be concerned about your well-being, a consequence of always putting Dazai first. And it’s always Dazai this and Dazai that - he was all you could talk and think about. It started as a crush at first, but now it just became overbearing. And you know you were being selfish for wanting him all to yourself.

Dazai was the prime example of how you wouldn’t always get what you wanted in life. It was nice to be observed by him, and he himself was endearing to watch, but trying to embrace him was like trying to embrace mist, it would just slip out of your grasp, and never be within your reach. Chasing him was like running in circles, and it was as though something kept tripping you, making you fall over and over again, but you were too stubborn to give up. Dazai always seemed close to you, almost within an arm’s reach - but yet he appeared so far. It was like a distance you would never be able to close. But then again, the distance between you and him never existed. Because you never had a chance with him in the first place. It was all but a fragment of your imagination.

But still, you continued with your routine.

“I love you, senpai.”

And he always said the same thing, “I know.”

But did he really? It wasn’t as throwing it around for you. He may be used to it, but you weren’t. How could you even begin to explain how much he meant to you? He already had your heart, it already belonged to him, and he could crush it anytime he so pleased, and yet he didn’t. He did something much worse. He did nothing. It was like he didn’t care, like it never mattered at all to him, no matter how many times you confessed. His answer was always the same. Maybe if you put more feelings into it - would he finally understand? Would he finally stop taking it so lightly? You were past the point of being embarrassed. You didn’t bother to hide your feelings anymore. You felt like you had to show more, just to get him to understand. After all, why wouldn’t he say anything else? It felt like a hopeless desire, but still, you wished for it anyway. For anything but that same, mundane ‘I know’. You wanted to cross that imaginary line that separated your heart from his, but the barrier always stood strong and it’s impossible to breach.

He wouldn’t let you in no matter how hard you tried. And you were slowly losing your mind and you couldn’t take it anymore. You wanted - needed - him to know. You were desperate but the words you want to say always stuck in your throat each time you tried to bring it out. You don’t want to make him overwhelmed, in fear of losing what you have now. Even if it just one side, you can’t help it, you can’t stop it no matter how hard you tried. It’s easier said than done. Your friends think it was better for you to let him go, that you don’t deserve to hurt yourself and deserved better. They told you to wake up from this fever dream and move on. But you know, even if you try, you will always come back for him. Again and again. No matter how he appeared to be with you, or what persona he created, he is still the same person. The one that you were in love. And it has taken deep root in your heart now.

“Senpai… I’m in love with you.”

Hopelessly. Helplessly. I’m drowning in it. I can’t live without you, do you know that? I would do anything for your sake. You are my life, you are my love. You are my pain and my relief. You are everything to me. Even if we don’t have any significant relationship, I still can’t afford to stay away from you for even a moment. I live for you every day, my time and heart are devoted only to you. No moment is ever complete without you. Your name is etched into each breath of mine. I have lived only for you and I am prepared to die for you. Because it is you. Only you. I have loved you so much. And I will continue to love you dearly. You are all that I want. And it’s not solely due to my obsession that I’ve come this far. I genuinely feel for you. You are the only one who can make me feel this way. I love you. I love you. I love you. I really do. And it hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Because I can't find it in myself to express all of this to you.

His expression subtly changed. He wasn’t surprised by what you said, no. Dazai knew of your feelings, but hearing it with such a resolution from you was a different thing. Your love was there. It was evident in your eyes as you kept looking at him, unwavering. Perhaps, he could just say he didn’t care for it and one day it might disappear. Everything was fleeting after all, even love. But would your feelings go away so easily?

“That’s unfortunate, for you…”

“I know,” you replied, wincing at the familiar sound of his signature words coming from your mouth. Even if he didn’t point it out, you knew it already. You already knew it from the start.

“I am so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“Isn't that a thing people say in unfortunate situations?” He chuckled at his own nonchalant response, hoping to keep the conversion light. But you could say that it just hurt you instead. Like a needle is pricking your heart when you heard his response. 

“Well, that's true. But saying sorry would only make me look pathetic here. Not like I wasn't one already,” you said, an air of self-deprecation surrounding you. How unfortunate, indeed, for you, though you had accepted that fact a long time ago. You could just laugh at how stupid this all was and cry at its sheer ridiculousness. But now it was nearly impossible for you to act like you were fine anymore. You tried to act tough but really, you were falling apart inside. He tore you piece by piece and yet he wasn’t even aware of that. 

“I’m sorry.” Again, he apologized. He sounded more sincere this time. Was it truly genuine, or was this another lie coming out of his facade? Frankly, it didn’t matter at this point anymore.

Dazai closed the distance between you two, reaching out his hand to give you his signature head-pat. He ruffled your hair and you could feel the warmth radiating from him. It was so gentle and cruel at the same time. He sounded so sincere, apologizing for it too. He didn’t turn you down completely but instead accepted your feelings silently, without returning it back. Such a cruel way to torment you further. But you knew it already, you knew the consequence of your decision from the start. However, you still kept clinging on to him as if he was the only support you had as you floated out in the open sea, but yet was also the reason why you might drown in the first place. It suffocate you and you can’t breathe. It hurt so much. But falling for him was something you would never regret even if what awaited at the end was just a void that would envelop you. Even so, you aren’t afraid of drowning in it anymore if you could keep this feeling you had for him. Even if it resulted in hurting you. It was fine. If it was the only way you could love him.

And as repetitive as it seemed now, you would still say it no matter how many times it will take for him to truly understand it.

“Senpai, thank you… I love you.”

“I know.” 

And you would keep it that way until your feelings slowly cease to exist, much like a dying star. It burned brightly in the beginning and eventually will fade away, disappearing back into nothingness.

[sepublic]

Amity’s Unattainable Standard

           It says a lot that Amity is hiding the reason why she stopped being friends with Willow because she feels ashamed that she wasn’t strong enough to be her friend. To Amity, she allegedly cut ties because Willow wasn’t strong enough, when in reality it was Amity who was the weakling… To Amity, this moment is shameful because it represents weakness! This girl has been so gaslit, had her priorities so horrifically reworked, that she sees a memory of her parents abusing her, and views it instead as another example of how Amity is a hypocrite and a coward who would abandon her friends to save her own skin.

          She’s the kind of person who would hide evidence of her parents abusing her, not so much because she doesn’t want to admit that they’re horrible people, but because their abuse has skewed Amity’s morality to the point where she would see scars as proof that she’s weak and deserving of punishment (because why else would she have been punished), and THAT is the greatest moral failing of all to her!

          Amity is someone who blames herself for getting hit because it proves she was a bad daughter for making her parents ‘resort’ to this level of punishment… That if Amity couldn’t defend herself, then clearly she is in the wrong for not being able to do that, while her parents are at worst neutral in terms of morality. To Amity, being punished by her parents is objective proof that she’s a bad person…

          Like, Amity would see a memory of herself being abused by her parents and wince because it’s a moment of shame for her, because it shows that she was weak and thus a bad person! Imagine what was going on in Willow’s head, like… This girl DID do damage, and she IS apologizing. But Inner Willow must be having a crisis over how messed up the whole scenario is, seeing just how skewed Amity’s morals and standards are to realize just how intensely critical she is of herself, for every single thing that could even be remotely viewed as ‘failure’.

          To Amity, if there is any room for improvement, any way in which she could have done things better, it means she’s a bad and incompetent person for not having done things ideally! Like if someone drops two bowls and she manages to save one, Amity will be angry at herself for not saving the second one too, because it was so close to her and she already has two hands! She’d view that moment of her saving one out of two bowls as a moment of shame because she could’ve done better, which really ties into the obscene pressure her parents have placed…

           They’re always telling Amity to be the absolute bestat everything she does, that if others are capable of the same then how come she isn’t!? Amity is always re-examining everything she does and wondering how it could’ve been done better and improved upon, and as a result she’s never satisfied with everything she does for herself, because she wasn’t doing her best… Or at least, her best wasn’t THE best! She’s never content with her accomplishments, it’s never enough to Amity and she wants to be better, it’s a very tragic twist on greed and desire…

          You know the idea that one has a moral obligation to do the right thing? That failure to do good when the situation compels you to is proof of being a bad person, or something like that? Amity is that idea, but dialed up to eleven for herself, and that if anybody else messes up, even if she’ll be critical of them initially… It’s just as likely that after forgiving them, she’ll then reexamine the situation under the impression that she and only she should’ve handled it better!

           Then Amity directs all of the guilt towards herself and acts as if the person she wronged, even if they HAD messed up, was actually completely innocent and trying their best; Whilst as an Elite Blight, Amity is more than capable of doing the best decision at things, which means that if she doesn’t do it, that’s HER fault and thus proof she’s a bad person!

          And it’s both condescending and arrogant, and self-critical… Like other people can’t be expected to be as good at things because they’re lesser, which means it’s not REALLY their fault if they fail because that’s just who they are, it’s just their nature! But Amity is a Blight and predisposed towards being good and competent, so if she does otherwise then her own failure is basically a deliberate choice and, again, another moral failing on her part!

          For Amity, other people do bad things but that’s just who they are so it’s not REALLY their fault, but being a bad person isn’t who she is… So doing bad stuff is even worse for her, so in a sense she DOES see herself as inherently good, but in a way that makes Amity far too self-critical of her own mistakes by consequence! Amity doesn’t expect the same of others because her expectations of them are already lowered due to the elitism instilled by her parents; But by consequence, she is extra-critical of herself and always realizing where she could’ve done better, and how it would’ve been such an easy fix too, because she’s done better than this before and SHOULD be better!

          If somebody else messes up, Amity isn’t disappointed nor surprised, that’s just expected, and so she learns that it’s normal and thus fine… But not with herself, because she’s a Blight! Because if Amity can do one thing right, what’s stopping herself from doing another thing right? And so on and so forth… It’s a horrifically black-and-white mentality for herself, that you can only do the absolute best, or else you just fail… All or Nothing, in a sense!

           It’s that philosophical question… If a person has a good nature but does a bad thing, does this make them worse than someone who does a bad thing but is already predisposed towards evil anyway, and was thus ‘born’ this way, never chose that nature, and can’t be blamed for it? For Amity, the answer is a resounding yes… If others mess up that’s just how it usually is, and every good thing they do says a lot about them overcoming their own nature or whatever, and is thus extra-meaningful and more commendable on their part! But because Amity is ‘naturally great’, it means that every failure she does is extra-horrific because she easily has the predisposition to be otherwise, yet STILL messes up!

           …And yet, paradoxically, Amity no doubt sees people like Luz and Willow as unironically 100% ‘better’ than her by this point, in every way shape or form! Because even if she’s learning not to be so critical of others or at least not have this mentality be backed by an elitist mindset, Amity is still judging herself by comparative standards and metrics, and is thus bound to be dissatisfied with everything else she does…

          Because again, she’s still an abused kid so sometimes she’ll still operate on a hypocritical and illogical double-standard, even if she’s beginning to see others as equal to her now! And that double-standard now works only to hold Amity accountable for any possible ‘failure’, whilst absolving her parents of the guilt! Which means that if people are mean to Amity, that means she actually deserves it, whilst if others are meant to her friends, that’s WRONG because they’re actually good people and better than Amity and thus deserve better! So Amity is now half-correct at least.

          And that leaves Amity wowed at people like Luz and Willow, for actually being happy and content at life and so naturally good at things that she isn’t! Amity is very much a Nature instead of a Nurture person, as typical of someone who was told that some people are born ‘better’ than others… So if she’s not good at something immediately, it proves that it wasn’t cut out for her after all!

          Which, leads me into my headcanon that Amity was a Gifted Kid who actually DID start off as doing things effortlessly and with a lot of passion… But then as she got older, she got burnt out and things came a lot less easily to her, which made Amity feel terrible because she knows she can be better than this! Not just as a Blight, but as who she was in general! And with people like Luz telling Amity she’s actually a good person, her abuse will lead her to misinterpreting this as an indication that all of her past and present failures are now even worse because yadda-yadda, you get what I mean!

           Just… SOMEBODY let this kid be happy, Amity’s really working to unlearn her toxic elitist mindset, but instead of turning it off all at once by realizing that there are no merits to judge others by, she’s instead doing it bit by bit… Deciding that THIS person doesn’t deserve to be judged like this, then this person…

          And Amity’s ALMOST finished and applied this leniency towards all others, except herself! Even her parents are arguably no longer held to the elitist ‘Blight’ standard, in the sense that if they do bad things to her friends, then that’s wrong and Amity should stick up for her acquaintances… But if the Blight Parents do bad things to AMITY, then that’s because SHE wasn’t good enough! Which again, gets me to my final point;

           Amity’s greatest, most fundamental flaw is that she doesn’t love herself. She’ll do things for others and love them vigorously, but she’ll never do things for herself. Because even now, Amity still sees her worth as only coming from what she can do for others, and keeps insisting that other people know what’s best for her. This idolization has shifted from her parents to her friends, which is better… But in the end, this kind of blind obedience shouldn’t exist to begin with! And for one last time, perhaps Amity should look at her own progress, and say that’s not good enough… And thus decide it’s time to forgive herself as well! Because if she can forgive everybody else… Then why can’t she forgive herself, too?

           (And then after that she can ditch the mentality of “Why can’t I do this too?” or at least completely rework it into something positive and healthy with plenty of room for leniency for herself.)

           TL;DR The main reason why Amity didn’t want Willow and Luz to see that memory of her parents blackmailing her, was because Amity saw it not as two parents abusing a helpless child who was just doing what they could to survive… But instead viewed it as a moment of pathetic weakness on her part for not doing the right thing, and thus something for Luz and Willow to judge her over (because how dare Amity not be strong enough to vouch for Willow like this)!

          After all, Amity should be better and stronger than this, and up until now she claimed that she stopped being friends with Willow becauseAmity was strong! So that claim would’ve been a lie as well, but in a way that made Amity look like a hypocrite! If it was Amity’s decision to cut ties with Willow, then at least it would’ve been HER decision… But because it was her parents’, it undermines Amity’s alleged strength and reveals herself as a weakling, which makes her ashamed and embarrassed! Because to Amity, being weak is the worst thing you can do…

           So, somebody (Luz) should tell this kid that not only is it OKAY to be ‘weak’, but that Amity was also never weak to begin with, and that the whole concept of ‘weakness’ is dumb and stupid anyway!

          (I should add that Amity sometimes has moments of ‘illogical’ emotion where she just acts in the moment, and drops all pretenses of what’s right or wrong in favor of what makes her comfortable VS what doesn’t, that this mentality doesn’t apply to literally everything she does; And around people like her siblings, Amity can lowkey lighten up and let herself be annoyed with their teasing, because she knows she doesn’t want this and prioritizes her desires over what she ‘deserves’.

          By the end of the day she IS still just a kid and not some radical zealot, even if she was lowkey on the path towards being indoctrinated like one by her parents’ abuse, up until Luz came along! Sometimes Amity lets herself be annoyed by petty things without bothering to think too hard about it –since she’s a kid- and that’s healthy!)