#and minorly because of tics

[gayriddleussy]

Whaaaat i dont project onto characters i would neeeeeever! *Runs quickly to hide this*

[2500dollarmagikarp]

I looooove your elgyem! I want to adopt a psychic type some day, are there any difficulties with the lil guy/girl?

Well the kinds of difficulty you might face depend on what species and the age. Geiger is pretty young, and a lot of young psychic types are prone to practicing their telekinesis by lifting things up and then dropping them with their power. Not an issue for some items, but when its something glass... more of a problem. They like variety in the kind of objects they practice on, so I've encouraged Geiger to practice with plushes, metal spoons, plastic items, things that are less breakable but still varied.

Bare in mind that anything given to a psychic type to perform telekinesis on is at risk at being broken even if not just from being dropped, so make sure its nothing you're attached too- Geiger ripped one of the plushes I gave him to practice on in half, for example (not one I was attached too, I already was aware of the risk).

Now the likelihood of a psychic type breaking things with their telekinesis goes down the older they get, but in general they need things to stimulate their brain. My hypno, Stupor, likes rubiks cubes, solitaire and similar games, and occasionally plays checkers with me. I'm working on teaching Geiger tic tac toe, which has also been a practice in him using his telekinesis with more precision so as to write a symbol. Stu was older than Geiger is even when I first got him, and Drowzee and Hypno are more capable of using their hands for tasks than Elgyem and Beheeyem, so he utilized telekinesis less from the beginning.

The type of things to give a psychic type depend on the individual and species. Despite what one may think, even the slowpoke line do enjoy mental stimulation like other psychic types do, they're just slow to engage. I haven't had one of my own, but as far as I remember reading, they tend to like 'spot the difference' type games. The abra line tend to like puzzles and chess, things that some other psychic types don't like as much due to some having difficulty maneuvering the small pieces. Less of a mental stimulation and more of a showing of their psychic power, but the gothita line like 'guessing games'; "two boxes one has something one doesnt, which one has the thing?" type of deal. Spoink and Grumpig like shape puzzles.

And while I talk mostly of telekinesis here as most psychic types have it, its not the primary ability to keep in mind for many of them. Drowzee and Hypno might practice their hypnosis on other pokemon on your team, or even you, and might need to be taught when it is or isn't okay to do so (lest you miss work or school or something because your pokemon made you fall asleep), the ralts and hatenna line are mind readers and can detect emotion and will become easily overwhelmed in crowded places or minorly stressful situations; ralts become better at controlling their abilities and tuning out emotions and thoughts they don't want to be reading, but hatenna doesn't develop nearly as much control over their abilities, just control in how they react, but will still end up lashing out if put in those situations too often without a break to calm down.

Sorry this is kind of rambley and not well organized haha. if there's a specific psychic type you're considering, or a couple specific ones, I could maybe give you a better gist of the basics tho remember, you should look into the details of a pokemon's needs yourself before getting one! I can retell what I've learned working at the Pokemon center and just generally read about, but the only Pokemon I've ever owned are the ones I have right now, so I'm not a perfect beacon of knowledge on the care of every Pokemon and how it is to raise one.

[thementalhealthdisaster]

Ages ago I started telling people I was experiencing tics. Because I was experiencing tic-like behaviour. It happened often when I was anxious or stressed. And I started trying to see if anxious tics were a real thing.

(they aren't, tics can get more frequent/bigger? With anxiety tho)

And when I started thinking about it, I knew this likely wasn't a tic disorder. It'd happened before and gone away. It has since calmed down significantly and I can go a long time without having them. They also don't feel how people describe tics.

So, what do I think they are?

Honestly? I'm not a doctor and I don't know. But I do have a theory. My "tics" were often a head jerk or drop followed by a vocal sound and/or hitting myself (usually the head). While I often couldn't stop these, I could redirect them.

(I could also trigger them by thinking about them. That doesn't fit neatly in any part of my explanation, but it doesn't disprove anything either so it's staying there.)

Like I said, they felt connected to anxiety and stress.

I'm undiagnosed autistic. I've always called what I now know are sometimes meltdowns and shutdowns, anxiety attacks.

My theory is, that my autistic brain was forcing me to stim in some way to process emotions and get through meltdowns and shutdowns. My brain causing me to have involuntary movements (that I could redirect as sounds or other movements) in an attempt to prevent a more severe meltdown.

I also hit myself in meltdowns. So that part is similar. It often happened worse right before and during meltdowns. It happened minorly but a lot while driving, something that causes me anxiety. It was happening the most during a time where I was trapped at my parents and extremely suicidal. I'd often have meltdowns or panic attacks on the way home. I was almost always emotionally exhausted...

I think my brain was desperate for me to Do Something. To stop sitting completely still and filled to the brim with fear. It needed me to jerk and whistle and pop and hit myself to deal with those feelings.

I think.

Like I said, I'm not a doctor.

[cursedcuneiform]

An Ethical implication of Depression.

One of the many tragedies of being someone who deals with chronic depression is that by the sheer dint of having something minorly incorrect with the organic tissue sloshing about between your ears - you will forever live slightly out of phase with the reality that everyone else effortlessly shares. To wit, there is a looking glass and you are always on the other side of it. You still see the things everyone else sees, but you also see the thing no one else does - because they only exist on your side. A phantasm of grief or rage hanging in the air behind someone real, will seem translucent and almost dormant but still there none the less. And no matter what you do or say, no matter how well you communicate yourself in the modern pop-psy template, people may believe you see it and even intellectually understand it, but there will never see it themselves. And so this is your life now. While in this mirror dimension that refracts and contorts the light a final trick awaits you. Essentially - you pay closer mind to everything around you, because it is so dark where you are. Minor tics and linguistic choices of people have or make. Projects of your life or someone else's train of thought - you can see all the clockwork whir forward in time and realise the end result far before the people you're speculating about do. And when you do this, you will inevitably realise that all things in this world - your dimension or theirs - are finite. All except for one. Pain. People's empathy and compassion for you is limited, because of it is - why wouldn't it be. Even the ready ear on the other end of the call, will grow hot eventually. They'll love you too much to cut you off so they'll try and cauterise the wound shut with a hamfisted solution or a new perspective that isn't new at all. And it's not their fault and I wouldn't fault them ethically for it. It's only natural. But what is to be done when their compassion, their love, is limited but your pain is chronic. What then ? Days, turns into weeks and months. Calls that started out surprised and concerned, become weary and even toned. You in your bizarre and grotesque world can see the weariness line their face somehow, even over the phone. And you then realise what caring for you, loving you or even tolerating you is doing to them. And here in lies the ethical implication - your ability to care for me is limited but my pain and suffering are chronic. I cannot in good conscience doom you with me to this grey black world. So you do the only thing a good and decent man would - you pull your radioactive hands from theirs. The calls become shorter, and your tone a lot lighter. "He's doing well now, really coming around !", they think. And you let them. You beg them to think that. And you decide to selfishly try this again - but with another person. Someone not quite as dried. Sad succubus sink your remorseful fangs into this new prey who insists they are not. And on and on - till eventually you realise there is no end to your suffering. No border just over yonder, over which someone's well intentioned patience can carry you. And so you, most familiar with this sting, shackle it to yourself on this side of the mirror and in doing so free anyone else from being touched by this foul thing. That's the right thing, the ethical thing, the done thing. They haven't suffered, how could they know what caring for you through this could possibly entail. Noble you. Good you. Thoughtful you. Only problem is - now it's just you and the spectres on your side. And suddenly the dark is very loud indeed.

[miraculousluvbug]

WINGLESS | Ch. 7

***New to Wingless? Start at Chapter 1!

CH. SUMMARY: After Chat learns Ladybug told Rena her identity, Plagg's solution is simple: tell someone he's Chat Noir so they're even! Duh.

Unbeknownst to the three wicked stooges, Paris’s favorite cat boy sat perched upon a rooftop adjacent to the mansion, ogling the interaction between his father, his trusted assistant, and his absolute least favorite person in the entire world.

Next to Hawk Moth, of course.

As they tittered and conspired in the darkness, Chat Noir narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t help but find the whole thing . . .

Shady.

“Claws in.”

Plagg whizzed out of the ring and looked up at his holder with sad kitten eyes. Adrien avoided making eye contact, practically drilling a hole into the ground with the intensity of his glare. He hugged his knees to his chest and picked at his shoelaces.

“That was pretty rough, kid.”

Adrien sniffled and roughly smeared away his tears with the back of his hand.

“I was hoping her explanation would make me feel better, Plagg.”

Adrien hugged his knees tighter.

“But it made me feel so much worse.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Plagg crooned, shoulders drooping. He hesitated for only a second before flying to Adrien’s shoulder and nuzzling his holder’s neck.

“She doesn’t want to know me, Plagg. Am I really that bad?”

“Not at all. I already told you that no other Chat Noir could be you. I meant it. You’re the best Chat Noir I’ve ever had.”

Adrien’s sniffles quieted, but the tears persisted. He had no idea how to stop them now that they had started. With gut-wrenching envy, Adrien watched the person he hated most engage in chit-chat with his father as if it was the most casual occurrence. The man even went as far as sharing whatever was on his tablet, a feat Adrien had been trying to accomplish since before he could remember. His father always claimed to be private, unwilling to share any kind of imperfect designs with his own son.

But there Lila was. Conversing with his father more than he himself had in the past week.

And Ladybug had given her most sacred secret to Rena Rouge.

Was he invisible?

He felt so small.

Lost at sea.

A blip in the turbulent waters that no one knew was missing.

He was a boy overboard with no life raft. And no one knew to look for him.

His soul was cold and his heart felt numb.

“You know what?” chirped Plagg suddenly, snapping Adrien out of his spiral. “Ladybug is the new Guardian, right?”

Adrien nodded hesitantly. Where was he going with this?

“What’s her only rule?”

“We can’t know each other’s identities.”

Plagg hovered in front of Adrien’s eyes and flipped onto his back, making a show of nonchalance. If this was gonna work, Plagg had to make the kid think it was kind of his own idea. “Who can’t know each other’s identities?”

Adrien was unamused. To him, Plagg was beating a dead horse.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Plagg popped open one eye. He didn’t need to open both for Adrien to see the blatant impishness in them.

“So Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t know each other’s identities. What about . . . other people?”

The blonde ball of despair perked up, hair bouncing into his eyes, though they immediately narrowed at his Kwami’s scheming.

“But Master Fu--”

Plagg interjected, “--who isn’t the guardian anymore.”

Adrien blinked.

Kwamis, Plagg was so close to convincing his kid to be selfish for once. He just needed a push! A hefty, premeditated shove off the Fu-forsaken cliff!

“It’s like I’ve always said. Beg for forgiveness, not for permission.” Plagg folded his little paws across his chest, floating right up to Adrien’s nose. Adrien went cross-eyed trying to maintain eye contact. “Ladybug told Rena. So the question is: who’s Chat Noir going to tell?”

“It’s--” Adrien spluttered. “It’s risky, Plagg!”

“And so is being depressed,” Plagg snarled back, surprising Adrien. “Any other person gets minorly inconvenienced and akumatized, who saves them? You--” the Kwami jabbed a paw into Adrien’s nose “--and the bug. But you or Ladybug get akumatized, who saves you?”

Plagg saw the cogs turning in Adrien’s head. He briefly speculated who his kid might choose. Nino would be the obvious choice. He wasn’t as close to Kagami any more, but telling her the secret that had broken them apart would certainly be one hell of an apology. It could even, say, potentially repair what the secret had fractured.

There was also the off chance Adrien might choose Pigtails, who coincidentally doubled as Ladybug. Plagg would have to raid the Agreste kitchen for popcorn if that happened.

“If . . .” Adrien began.

Yes? Plagg internally coaxed.

“If I were to choose someone . . .”

Come on, Adrien.

“I think it would be . . . Nino.”

Yahtzee.

Plagg clapped his paws together over and over, rousing Adrien from his feet like a drill sergeant. “All right, then! Let’s go, let’s go! Hustle, bell boy. We’ve got places to be!”

Adrien reached into his pocket and pulled out a squishy triangle, letting loose the most intoxicating aroma Plagg ever did smell. It circled the pair and made Plagg salivate. “Don’t you want this first?”

Did I really forget about camembert? Plagg wondered incredulously.

“I--” Plagg scrambled for an excuse to atone for the touchy-feelies interfering with his one true love, but he came up short. “Of course I want that!”

Adrien smiled fondly at his Kwami and threw the camembert into the air. Not one to miss a beat, Plagg zipped and caught the cheese in his mouth, devouring the thing in one fell swoop.

“Now we can go!” said Plagg, belching remorselessly. Naturally.

Adrien chuckled. When he opened his mouth to say the transformation phrase, however, he faltered. Was he really going to do this? It . . . It felt disobedient, like he was betraying Ladybug. But could she really hold it against him, if she had needed to do the same?

Would his partner reveal herself to be a hypocrite?

The budding consequences of revealing himself to Nino weighed so heavily on his shoulders that he wasn’t sure how he would manage batoning into the air once transformed. The aptitude for disappointment just felt so tangible to him, as if it were physically chaining him to the rooftop, a meaty claw so solidly wound ’round his ankles it threatened to pierce his skin.

The thought that Nino might hate him for keeping the secret in the first place made home in Adrien’s cerebral cortex, further immobilizing him. It pulled up a chair and opened the morning newspaper like it was meant to be there, meant to remind him that not everything was just simple. Straightforward. Without fallout.

A tender paw touched his cheek, wiping away a runaway tear.

“Kid,” whispered Plagg. His eyes were misty.

Is that . . . because of me? Because he cares about me?

Holding his gaze a moment longer, Adrien uttered the words that once changed his life forever and seemed to be forever following him with new and improved ways to spice up his routine.

“Claws out.”

The energy washed over him like a cold shower, springing him into action. The need to move, to run, to fly nipped at his heels and before he knew it, he was vaulting to his best buddy’s.

If Adrien was honest, telling Marinette, his dearest friend, was his first instinct. He gripped that realization like it would fly away at a moment’s notice, at the slightest spook (he was on the precipice of truly understanding what his good friend Marinette really meant to him). But he had heard from Nino that Alya and Marinette were holed in for a “girls’ night,” so . . . Nino was the next best thing.

Nino was far from second place, however. Sharing the burden of his greatest secret with the guy who got mad at Gabriel Agreste on Adrien’s behalf was like a breath of fresh air. More than that, it was like Adrien would finally be able to steady his head above the tide.

(Telling Marinette would have been like sprouting gills and uncovering the mystery of the sea up close and personal, but Adrien didn’t want to unpack that particular conclusion yet.)

Wasting no time, Chat Noir landed nimbly on Nino’s apartment balcony and tucked his baton back into place. Giving himself just one more moment before life as he knew it was spun upside down--for better or for worse was yet to be determined--he raised a gloved claw to the sliding glass door and timidly knocked.

Nino’s balcony wasn’t decorated like Marinette’s. A few bikes of various sizes loitered against the railing, collecting dust. A few helmets hung limply from their handlebars, occasionally shifting to and fro in the passive wind. Chat could discern by the light-up training wheels which bike belonged to Nino’s little brother, Chris. The bike--which Chat realized must be new since his last visit--sported black spots against its red frame.

Chat shook his head fondly.

Someone obviously developed an appreciation for the bug after their last akumatization. But as the evening breeze softly twisted the helmet, the vision before him melted him into a puddle of endearment. Nino’s kid brother apparently also had a thing for Chat Noir.

The evidence?

A black helmet topped with an acid green paw print and two plastic cat ears to boot.

Un-fur-tunately, as much as the sight was incredibly thera-paw-tic, it also made his heart throb. His body ached for a larger family, from head to toe and down to his bones.

Adrien didn’t dream often in his sleep, but when he did . . . Oh, when he did, he was blessed with visions of him entering a cozy one-story home (his) and immediately being greeted by giggling and the blinding smiles of three faceless children (also his).

While his hopelessly romantic heart yearned for Ladybug to be his other half in that tender fantasy, lately his subconscious had a habit of inserting a particular blue-haired classmate. It baffled him at first, but he figured seeing her family photo that one time during Animan in addition to experiencing the Dupain-Chengs’ bolstering hospitality personally as both Adrien and Chat Noir made Marinette a safe space for his lonely imagination.

Whoever she married would be one lucky bastard, that was for sure.

The curtains behind the glass door swept dramatically to the side, revealing a bewildered Nino in Rena Rouge-themed pajamas.

“Chat Noir?!” he exclaimed. The glass between them muffled his voice.

A quick scan beyond Nino told Chat that his friend was home alone, but he knew he needed to be certain. “Are you home alone?”

Nino paled before realizing that a superhero asking that question wasn’t as bad as some random adult looking for an easy target. He exhaled, chuckling nervously. “My family went to the ice rink, but skating’s so not my jam.”

So he stayed behind. Good. This was gonna be a piece of cake! Adrien pointed at the door handle and raised his eyebrows in question.

“Oh, right. Sorry, dude!”

Nino clambered to unlock the door and wrenched it open. The smell of broth and herbs hit Adrien square in the nose. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since lunch. “What brings you here? An akuma?”

Stepping over the threshold, Chat tried to make sense of Nino’s question. Why would he come to a civilian if there was an akuma? “No, no akuma, Nino.”

“Oh, good, ’cause I-- Dude, how did you know where my room is?”

If Chat weren’t there to reveal his identity, he might have had a heart attack over accidentally bee-lining to Nino’s room like he’d been there before. He probably would have said something fishy like “In a house like this, it’s a given!” But he didn’t have to make up some ridiculous excuse. He wouldn’t ever have to lie to his best friend.

Never again.

“Because . . .”

Nino eyed Chat expectantly. His room was a mess. He really wasn’t expecting any visitors and his laptop was still open, his music and film ideas scrawled onto random pieces of notebook paper and scattered across his desk like a madman. Or an artist. Was there really a difference?

“Because . . .” Chat began once more.

Oh, gosh. This was it. He was going to do it. He was going to do the thing! He was alone at sea and no one from the boat had noticed him falling overboard. But maybe, just maybe Nino was the Coast Guard. Maybe Nino would throw him a buoy.

“Because claws in.”

Nino’s entire body went rigid. Crap, crap, crap!

“No, wait--!” Nino shouted, closing his eyes instinctually and reaching for Chat Noir. He had to pull him away from his laptop’s camera field! Had to get him out of sight! Why did he choose now to share Paris’s most coveted secret?!

But . . . he was too late.

The light had already dimmed behind his eyelids by the time his hands were closed around--

“Adrien?” Nino whispered, peering up at his best friend. The duckling he had sworn to protect and teach the ways of life was standing where Chat Noir should be.

Adrien smiled and opened his mouth to respond, but a high-pitched laughter rang out and the joy he felt was quickly replaced with sheer terror.

Nino grinned sheepishly.

“Uh haha, you remember my girlfriend Alya who I sometimes Skype with while working on scripts?” Clumsily, Nino rubbed comforting circles into Adrien’s arms as if he could rub away the embarrassment.

“You said you were home alone.”

“Actually, I said my family went to the ice rink.”

Adrien’s eye twitched.

Plagg, who couldn’t have foreseen this turn of events, hovered off to the side and figured if he didn’t move, he could pretend he was invisible.

Sure enough, Adrien craned his head to find an unhinged Alya screeching like a fox (he had seen a video of them laughing once on YouTube; they were so adorable!) from Nino’s computer screen. Behind Alya was a familiar cork board of friends and, well, lots of himself. The walls were pink. She was at Marinette’s like Nino said she would be.

Adrien had expected gasps. Finger pointing. A million questions. What he hadn’t expected was Alya laughing like he was the butt of a joke.

After a good minute of cackling and awkward waiting from the boys, Alya sighed and wiped a tear from her eye. Then she spoke, a dazed smile on her lips.

“I cannot wait to strangle that Hawaiian-shirt-loving Master of Unnecessary Manipulation.” Her words were completely contrasted by the amusement in her voice.

Adrien tried not to faint.

-----

We're now caught up with AO3 here on Tumblr (AO3 is where I first started posting this). Yay! :D Also, was anyone expecting Rena to be there? 😌I wasn't. 😳 Follow me for updates and check out my Instagram where I post art!

(7/?) Previous | Next

[mx-bright-sky]

Stain Is A Little Bitch And Here’s Why; The Newer Version!

Yeah I made a post like this forever ago debunking all of Stain’s motives and stuff but it’s been. Forever. And so I’m remaking it! Cause I still believe this. 

As you probably know, if you’ve been following my blog for a while, I trust neither the hero society nor UA and Nedzu himself. So, one might THINK that because of this I would agree with Stain.

That is not the case. 

Stain was wrong and I’m gonna prove why.

So the easiest place to start out is looking at Stain’s motives by themselves. The reasons that Stain thinks modern heroes are corrupt are as follows:

Too concerned about the paycheck

Don’t actually follow heroic ideals (Iida attacking him for revenge)/All Might is the ideal hero in his view and that’s it

Only care about the glory and the fighting

I’ll go down the line to state what I think about each of the reasonings themselves.

Although, before I start, I would like to emphasize; I do not trust the Hero Society as it is at all. I definitely do believe that it is corrupt and has many flaws. It’s just that, at the same time, Stain was still wrong

Now then, the first one is the deal with money. On the surface, this does seem like a good reason; heroes fighting for the money and only the money is a problem. However looking deeper into it this argument quickly falls apart. Consider for a moment what would happen with the heroes is they WEREN’T paid. In this case, the heroes would have to get a second “job” on the side to be able to, you know, live. By getting paid for their heroism, heroes are able to work on being heroes 24/7, instead of having to worry about divided attention. 

In addition to that, heroes are paid based on how they perform as heroes, by saving people and defeating villains. The heroes who do the most work get the most pay. That being said, it’s also pretty easy to see that some heroes still don’t get paid very much at all. Mt. Lady, for example; even though she’s new, she has a problem with money. If heroes just got payed way too much, then why is she still struggling? And Uwabami- maybe she likes being a model, but she had to take up a side job away from heroing because it didn’t give her enough money. (another possibility for that is unequal pay fro heroes but I’ll get into that another time).

And yet even more to that, being a hero is the most popularized profession. I do think that itself is a flaw, yes, but it’s true. So, if heroing is a popularized profession and pretty much everyone wants to go into it... then the country must be overflowing with heroes. That being said, there’s no way that being a hero always pays well no matter what. I’d even go so far as to say that any hero not in the top 50 or even the top 10 make any large or ludicrous amount of money. Yet, when Stain attacks a hero, he goes after Ingenium (who, while probably in the top 50, is not in the top 10) and Native (who we know nothing about besides that he was there; I highly doubt he was all that bad). 

But that’s just the first tic on the list, there’s more. 

The second thing that Stain upholds is All Might’s idealistic form of heroism. Any other kind of hero is wrong. As we know that’s just... flat out wrong. We all know it was foolish of Iida to try and attack Stain. Do we say that this makes him any less of a hero? No. Uraraka’s original motivation is getting money.... for her family, which is poor. Maybe not the most pure of motivations, but at the end of the day she just wants what’s best for her family and can we really say that that’s wrong? And she has proven time and time again, that even if she is there to make money for her family, she still has heroic qualities and wants to help and save people. At the end of the day, by choosing this path, the majority of heroes are intentionally putting themselves in danger to do something that, at the end of the day, helps innocent people. Whether it’s for family pride, personal pride, or a true heroic spirit, these heroes are fighting villains that want to hurt or even kill them. If their ideals aren’t all that perfect, is it really wrong?

Now then... the last one. The last one is tricky.

Stain’s last argument is that heroes are starting to only care about glory and fighting. And while I like to believe that MOST heroes aren’t like that... the evidence is all there to suggest that some heroes are that way. This is the one thing that I will minorly agree with Stain on, because, for this one part of his beliefs, he was right. This focus on glory and fighting is what lets someone like Endeavor be a hero. Endeavor is the purest example of everything Stain hates; he only cares about the money, the glory, the fame. He only wants to be number one. He doesn’t care a single shred about saving people. 

But at the same time, in this belief, Stain is a hypocrite. He hates heroes for being put up on pedestals, while putting All Might on a pedestal himself. 

That being said, though one shred of his reasoning is actually right, his actions themselves prove him to be wrong. 

First there’s the obvious that killing people is flat out wrong. Even if he disagrees with these heroes, killing them is not the answer. They might not be perfect, but those people have families. Families that will be distraught that they’re gone. In the cases of real corrupted heroes, then maybe the deserve to go to jail, or to be injured to the point where they can no longer work- but death? Death is permanent. And it’s not always the right way to deal justice. 

Beyond that, there is the effects that these deaths have. Because these heroes are gone, killed, that means that any villain they would have defeated if they hadn’t died now does not get defeated, at least not as quickly as they might have. Even if the heroes are being replaced, if a bunch of heroes in an area die, then villains can easily attack harder on that area knowing that it’s less protected now. This gets innocent people hurt. 

Then there’s the replacing of the heroes. By killing heroes, Stain is creating a demand for more heroes. With a demand for more and more heroes, how many corrupt ones are going to slip through the cracks? How many people not suited to Stain’s ideology are going to become heroes now because of Stain’s actions? What Stain has done is counterproductive to itself. 

What about WHY Stain is doing this? We know his reasonings. But as for WHY Stain is going this far? It’s simply because no one would listen to him. He wasn’t hurt by some corrupt hero. There wasn’t a loved one that a hero didn’t manage to save. There was no past betrayal from a hero. Stain simply came up with this ideology and these thoughts, and when no one listened to him, he acted on them. How entitled do you have to be to do that? Stain is an entitled man child who whined that society wasn’t fair and got violent when people wouldn’t listen to him.

Finally, we have the “who” is getting killed. Stain says he only goes after corrupt heroes, but from what we see? That’s a lie. The people that Stain attacks are Ingenium, Native, Iida, Izuku, and Todoroki. We know Stain wasn’t planning on killing Izuku because he had one throw away line where he mentioned All Might and that made Stain assume he was a good hero. Other than that? 

Ingenium. From everything we know about him from Iida’s flashbacks, he’s a good guy. He wanted to be a hero because he thinks that the kind of person who helps kids on the street is cool. He’s Iida’s model as an older brother. Generally all around Ingenium is a good, charismatic hero. But Stain attacks him. For what? Because he gets money? Because it’s a family business? It’s not about Ingenium’s actual motives or reasons for being a hero at all- Stain makes assumptions and decides Ingenium is worth killing. 

Native. We know very very little about Native. But here’s what we can gather; He’s definitely not in the top ten, and I doubt he’s in the top fifty, so fame and glory certainly wasn’t it. Money can also be knocked off the list because it’s very likely that less popular heroes hardly make anything. So that leaves... what exactly? Native isn’t cruel, at least he isn’t shown to be. He helps carry Izuku when the fight is over because Izuku has an injured leg. Stain gives us no reason for why he’s killing Native. He just. IS.

Iida. He made one(1) emotionally fueled mistake. He’s just a kid. He’s in no way done with growing and learning. But because his love for his brother turned into a need to avenge his brother’s attack, Stain quickly decides that Iida deserves to die. To DIE. He doesn’t entertain the thought that Iida could ever grow and change. He decides that, on the spot, because of this one occasion, that Iida only ever will care about revenge and that he is destined to be a horrible hero. 

Todoroki. Stain never outright says what his plan with Todoroki was. We don’t know for sure if Stain would have spared him or killed him, but I believe that Stain would have killed him. For the same reasoning that he attacked Ingenium- family name. Other than that I can’t press further on this because we don’t really know if he would have killed Todoroki or not for sure. 

In conclusion? Stain? Is a little bitch. The one shred of it that he got right he never even acts on. He certainly doesn’t deserve all the publicity and praise. He was WRONG. Case closed.