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on-the-clear-blue · 3 months ago

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So you know how there is a common fan theory that ghosts go through their death again on their death day? What about Jason going through it?

Feeling angsty crew, prepare yourselves

Trigger warnings: Jason death and all that comes with that, SA implications.

---

The first time it had happened it was in a LOA base, still catatonic and barely speaking, Jason was forced to train through the dark bruises that slowly appeared on his body, from his ribs and chest, to his fingers getting bent and crooked.

His trainers watched, not filled with concern but curiosity, an effect such a this had not been seen in the leauge in some time

As smoke was coughed up from his lungs and as bits of his flesh turned the same ghastly green as the pits, they watched, documenting it, unable to look away as the man boy seized and went still, finally.

---

The second time it happened, Jason was in Gotham, set up in a safe house, sirens and gun shots ringing out into the night, the sounds of his childhood.

He hadn't planned to stay long, only stopping by the safe house to grab a restock of ammo

Then came the phantom pains, tightness around his wrists, a deep, ever increasing sense of dread.

Jason staggered at the first ghostly strike to his head, hands flashing to his guns, scanning the room for what ever invisible foe that had struck him.

The next blow brought Jason to his knees, it hurt, oh God did it hurt, his head was pounding in a way that he barely remembered.

The feeling of his ribs crack robbed him of breath, a bone spur puncturing his lung, then came his hands, finger bones broke one at a time.

Jason curled himself up in a ball, just as he tired to years ago, tears streaming down his face under the metallic hood. The ticking demination of a clock ringing cruelly in his ears.

Then came the explosion, leaving his ears bleeding, eardrums ruptured, brain addled even more than the blunt force trauma caused.

With broken hands, Jason struggled to take off his helmet, as smoke poured out of his already damaged lungs. Smoke that clogged the helmet filters, that trapped it all around his face.

Jason Todd died a third time, the same way as the first two time that night.

---

It was a few years after the first time (that he remembered), that he found himself on a very bad day, he had found out that it always happened on the day he died, and he still didn't know what God had cursed him to relive it over and over again.

To add even more crap to his shittiest day, he was stuck in Wayne Manor.

The sense of dread was running though him, his hands were shaking terribly as he tried to just get away but his body wouldnt listen, he needed to leave get to his room, any room, hid away from his family, he didnt want them to see him like this didnt need them to be worried for him, he was so stupid, so idiotic to have forgotten what day it was, so wrapped up in having his family again that he forgot his curse.

---

Dick had a smile on his lips as he was about to jokingly throw a gaming controller at Jason, knowing he would likely start something to get his gaggle of siblings to do something together.

Yet it never left his hands, as he noticed Jason's eyes had gone glassy, a distant look in them, and a dull green sheen emanating from them.

Fear wormed it's way through him, Pit episodes had become less and less of a thing with his brother, something he was more than happy to see, but...this didn't seem to be the same thing.

Sending a concerned look to Tim, who has just walked into the room, even though he hoped (he thought they were over these, that Jason was getting better) Dick waved him back, if this was actually a Pit episode, he didnt need Jason to go off on Tim anymore than he had in the past.

Slowly approached his brother, Dick saw his eyes look into the middle distance, lost in his own head, "Littlewing? Jay I-I didnt..." His hand moved cautiously, coming into Jason's space and-

He flinched...Hard. Eyes flashing up at Dick but not seeing him, stuck deep in something else

Dicks heart dropped, Jason hadn't flinched when he had tried to touch him in years, not since a small boy in a ratty red hoodie was in Dicks old room, crying as he begged to not be sent back to the streets for them to "P-please don't t-touch me...I-Im sorry I-ill be good I promise"

But the words that came from Jason were far more haunting than what he uttered in fear, a voice hoarse and small came from him, slurred and heady with pain "Just...just let her go...C-can do anything to me...j-just let mom go..."

Bile, that was all Dick could taste as he held back what wanted to come up, he knew in a second what Jason was seeing, who Dick was to Jason's mind, trapped in memories.

He didn't know when he took a step back, didn't know when he had pulled away from his little brother until his back hit the wall, taking a shaky breath he forced himself back, He needed to be there, be there for his brother unlike...unlike last time.

"Jaybird it's me, Dickie? Jason..." he reached out agian, only to cringe back as his little brother flinch back, curling in on himself, his head tucked between his legs.

Dick didn't know Jason could look so small still, a distant thought bubbling up about maybe that's why he got so big, so he could never be that small again...but yet he was...

And Dick Hated It.

His hands fumbled for his phone, his fingers felt like lead, and all he could do is dial Ina number.

"Dad? Jason needs you..."

---

Bruce tore through the halls of his home with a fervor, his mind spinning with thoughts, from Dick’s description of what was happening this was a Pit episode of some sort, far different than any he had seen before.

The halls of his home never felt so long and never felt so claustrophobic.

Old demons in his mind cackled, bringing back the doubts of himself...if only he was just a little faster, a little less prideful...

Coming into the den, Bruce scanned the room, seeing his eldest kneeling by Jason, trying to be soothing while not touching him.

Dick face was hard and worried when he looked up at Bruce.

They shared a silent conversation, ending with Bruce taking Dick place on the floor, Dick in turn leaving to try and figure what was happening.

"Jaylad, Sweetheart, you have to breath, Jason?" It hurt to see his son flinch as he reached out, but Bruce pressed on, his fingers softly pressing against his son's pulse point on his wrist.

Dread spreads across Bruce's mind as he can hardly find a pulse, pulling his hand back the dread turns to horror as he see red and deep blue bruises start to from across Jason's face.

His eyes were open, dull instead of the bright they should be, his breathing sounded forced and-

It was his nightmares all over again.

Pushing past the fear, Bruce forced himself to pick Jason up, holding his dear boy so...so close to his chest, jaw shaking as he rushed through the halls once again.

He can't let his son die in his arms yet again.

---

Hours later, Bruce watches as Leslie called time of death, they did everything they could but it wasnt enough...his mind is disconnected from his body, a deep dark numbness burns within him and he just can't understand why...

Why the world seems to determined to make his family suffer? What had he done other than try and help, to cure the throbbing cancer that is Gotham? To help his fellow man live better and be happy...

His numbly looks around the med area, his children gathered, Dick is crying onto Cass's shoulder, Cass herself has tears but she refuses to shed them, Duke held his head in his hands, small shakings in his shoulders could only be crying, Stephanie was by Leslie, demanding answers and what happened with emotions think in her voice

Tim wasn't there, he was on the other side of the cave, running through data files, looking for anything that could cure this...Bruce would need to tell him to stop, that it was already over.

And Damian...his youngest just stood there, arms crossed and...politely blank was all Bruce could see, no mourning as the others. Just...waiting.

He was the only one not shocked when Jason groaned, sat up, cursed and promptly fell back onto the bed.

---

Damian sauntered over to where they had placed Todd, all of them still so careful with him, as if he would up and fall dead if someone was to as much as sneeze in his direction.

"Tt, Honestly it is as if they don't know this happens every year..." His own reliving of his deaths was far less dramatic.

Todd had the gall to look at him with confusion, and it took a moment for Damian to realize what his look ment "You never told them did you, Tt...Typical" shaking his head, Damian sat next to Jason's has-been death bed.

"Not all of us brought back from the dead suffer so spectacularly as you do Todd, as Jon would say...I believe this is a *Skill Issue*? Hashtag get good?" He didn't use the lingo lightly,

And of course, instead of being offended as he should, Todd just stared dumbly at him "This is when you banter, or has your repeated blunt force truama to the head bludgeoned you into stupidity?"

Shaking his head, Damian tutted "Clearly I have to do everything in this poor excuse for a social interaction" clearing his throat Damian put on a deeper voice as to mimic Jason "Shut it Demon Brat. I do truly hate that nickname. Oh woe is me why am i just a little bitch that can only suffer. Worry not dearest fuck up of a human being I can help you. Oh glory be you, you turly the greatest Robin. Oh only you say it now~"

Damian gave a dead pan stare at Todds slackjawed look, "Shut it, Jon is rubbing off and me and i cant for the life of me make it stop...but honestly if you wish to know more, seek out Phantom, though...you look pathetic enough that he might just find you first."

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 8 months ago

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Extended Parting

Synopsis: After being separated from you for so long, Childe finally finds you again.

Foul Legacy x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Comfort Warnings: Mentions of blood, physical injuries, fear, pain, crying, allusions to being attacked

Original Request by Anon: requesting requesting! beep bop beep bop ! more foul legacy × reader hurt/comfort, perhaps? :3

hear me out- in the format of a scenario; just pure comfort, reader is perhaps sent of to a dangerous mission/commission while childe is away doing his own thing. when he is going back home however, he stumbles across a group of fatui, taking the reader hostage & hurting them. foul legacy's reaction to his "allies" hurting the love of his life? and how he would take care of the reader after, assuming the reader got pretty severe injuries (even though they're not fetal).

Im a big sucker for this big boi getting all soft when the reader is hurt, and i wanna see more of him just holding the bleeding reader in his arms while trying to comfort them

~ * ~

Two weeks, three days, seven hours, and eight minutes. That’s how long you’ve been apart, how long Childe has gone without being in your presence, and he’s hated every second of it. Important commission, hah! No commission could be so important that it took you away from him for this long- almost half a month! All of your other missions took you a week, tops, and even then he could barely handle it, missing you more and more as each day passed without a single word or letter. Of course, he admits, it’s not like Childe didn’t also have his own duties to attend to during this time, this extended parting. As usual, he was forced to store Ajax and Childe away, slipping on the mask of Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger, and taking delight in violent diplomacy. But even fighting and bloodshed did little to satiate his longing for you; how much he wished to see your wonderful smile and that keen twinkle in your eyes, hear your lovely voice, cradle you in his arms and kiss your cheeks- Childe groans, burying his face in his hands. It makes him irritable, constantly yearning for you, and Foul Legacy is even worse. His Abyssal half is constantly clawing at the back of his mind, worrying his talons and whining as he asks why they haven’t seen you yet? Where are you? When will you be back? He wants cuddles something fierce, desperately seeking out the attention and affection you always give him only to find that you’re nowhere near. They’re both so lonely without you, only each other for company, and Childe has to physically bite his hand to prevent Legacy from simply snatching control of their body away and flying off to find you. With a sigh, the Harbinger wipes the blood from his blades, then his hands, and finally his face, ginger hair all wild and unruly. At the very least, today was when he would finally return home to Liyue. He never thought somewhere other than Morepesok could be considered home, but it turns out that “home” is wherever his heart is, and he gave it to you long ago to keep safe from everything that hurts.

Home… Childe’s mind drifts back to the house you both share, a small smile instinctively tugging at his lips. With a quiet snap of his fingers and a salute, his underlings are dismissed- they’ll be going back to the Fatui Headquarters in Snezhnaya. Childe, however, packs his supplies near the road back to the harbor city, waving the agents away, and the moment they’re out of sight his smile widens into a full-on grin, a delighted gleam in his azure eyes.

Even just thinking about you seems to bring out the best in him, Foul Legacy chirping happily in the back of his head when Childe reassures him that yes, they’ll be seeing you again soon. If you’re done with that horribly long commission of yours, that is, which he’s sure that you are- even the most arduous never take up to three weeks. Despite being exhausted, he finds a spring in his step, dust swirling as his boots land against the dirt path. You, you, you- he’s going to see you again, his beloved and most treasured. Childe almost glows with energetic joy as he jogs, as if he never fell into the Abyss at all. His hand twitches, Foul Legacy begging and pleading to be let out after spending so long locked away, but Childe hushes him gently. You’ve said that you like it when he’s kind to Legacy and Legacy is kind to him- they are part of each other, after all, and you love both of them- so he tries to treat the monster as a friend rather than a weapon, and with a huff Legacy settles back down. Something faint and distant as the moon pierces the night, and Childe pauses, ears pricking. He tilts his head to listen, and for a moment he hears nothing but silence. Until- there, there! A scream! It’s far off, over the next hill, but unmistakably there. Even from a distance Childe can hear the desperation, the terror burning into his bones like a raging fire with a familiarity that makes him stop in his tracks.

No… no, it couldn’t be. It can’t be- Please, please let him be wrong- Childe’s feet carry him towards the sound, dread spiraling and twisting in his gut as another awful shriek rings out and he looks up, eyes widening. He was right. Oh, he was right, and he wishes he wasn’t, because it’s you. It’s you, gripping your weapon like a vice and covered in blood, expression filled with panic and fear and pain. It’s you, still in your adventurer’s gear, bag packed with whatever stupid, insignificant item the commission wanted. It’s you, surrounded by Fatui agents- not his, thank the Archons- the rest of them laughing and sneering. It’s you, hurt and scared and looking as if you’re about to collapse onto the ground and never rise. It’s you, and Childe’s veins freeze over with cold, splintering ice. You’re pressed against a ruined wall, swiping the blade in your hands at the soldiers, who merely snicker at your weakened attempts. The leader- one of those Electro vanguards with a giant hammer- smacks the weapon aside and seizes your arm, and you let out an involuntary yelp of pain as tears prick in your eyes. The yelp is all the motivation he needs, and Childe barely feels his restraint shatter like glass. They never even saw it coming, Foul Legacy throwing his spear and ripping the agents apart as fast as lightning, vibrant purple sparks searing the grass as he roars, driven only by wrath and fury. The vanguard who grabbed you so violently shouts in surprise and horror- then everything goes silent, apart from Legacy’s heavy breathing, claws dripping with blood. He exhales, curling his talons into fist with a tight crackling noise, letting out a low, guttural growl of rage. You bite down fiercely on your tongue, trying to stay quiet, but you can’t help but gasp in pain as the slashes in your body flare, and Foul Legacy’s anger burns away as quickly as a dying candle. He turns and rushes to you, chittering frantically, only to freeze when he sees you stiffen, petrified with fright. His chirps and trills lower to soft croons, gentle and sweet and familiar, crouching slowly to your height and holding out a hand. He tentatively inches forward, hand extended and palm up, claws curling delicately around your wrist when you desperately reach for him. “A-Ajax…?” Legacy’s Abyssal heart cracks, and he swiftly gathers you in his arms, whimpering and nudging his forehead against your cheeks as you cling to him and let out anguished, hitching cries. You suck in a breath when his talons ghost over a wound, and Legacy almost sobs with despair. Some part of him- the rational, trained soldier that is Childe- tells him to get you home, heal you, make sure that you’re well- he carefully gets to his feet, holding you close to his armored chest and adjusting your head so it’s pillowed by his lavender fluff. You shudder with pain again, and Legacy gently licks his tongue over the shallow scrapes on your face, cooing softly; with a flutter of his glimmering wings he takes to the sky, his arms cradling you like you’re made of crystal and gold.

He lands near your shared home not ten minutes later, hastily unlocking the door with the key he always sees Childe using. The house is quiet and a little dusty from being empty for so long, but your bed is as soft as ever as Legacy delicately lowers you down onto the mattress. Childe is the one who tells him what to do, again, guiding his claws to gently wrap your wounds with snow white gauze. None of them are fatal, and Legacy thanks his constellation with a grumbling sigh of relief. A quiet croon slips out when he sees you fading in and out of consciousness, sweetly cupping your cheek with a clawed hand- he’s shaking. Why is he shaking? He’s not the one who nearly died- but your hand comes up to weakly grasp his, and Legacy’s heart melts and breaks and patches itself up all over again.

Your lips twitch into a shaky smile, exhausted, your fingers resting on Legacy’s and soothing the minute trembles running through his body. The Abyssal creature- your wonderful, sweet Abyssal creature- blinks slowly at you, crystalline eye filled with tears that drip down his crimson face and pool in the divots of his mask as he fights to contain the sobs that threaten to break out, and when you reach up your other hand, covered in bandages, to caress his cheek, his breath hitches and he collapses into your arms, burying his head against your neck and weeping. In a whispered voice you coo and murmur and hum to him, repeated words of “it’s okay, I’m here, I’m okay”, and he tries so, so hard to do it back to you, his own sounds cracked and stuttering, something along the lines of “don’t leave, I miss you, I’m sorry”, or as close as he can say with a mouth made for biting and gnashing. Your hands lightly tug him closer- or rather, your hands tiredly loosen and he moves to follow them- until he’s close enough for you to press a soft kiss to his forehead. Legacy immediately purrs, tearful and whimpering, and your silent offer of lifting up the blanket is met with an instance moth monster at your side, curling around your body and holding you close. He’s careful not to squeeze you, trying to get as close as possible and mold his form around yours as you rake your hands through his fluffy coppery hair, drawing more deep, comforting rumbles from within his chest, the type he makes when you’re dreadfully ill.

Cats’ purrs are healing, so you’ve heard. Perhaps Abyssal beasts’ purrs are much the same. Slowly, your eyes begin to droop, and you yawn, exhausted and worn. Foul Legacy quietly nudges you, a croon of reassurance falling from his fanged maw, claws dancing over the wraps on your skin now stained brilliant red. It hurts, it hurts like fire- but you’re safe. Safe in your bed, and in Legacy’s arms, and the tension leeches from you and dissipates into nothing. You vaguely hear a soft melody, low and rumbling and familiar from when you’ve sung Foul Legacy to sleep, and the arms around you tighten ever so slightly as the sun finally dips beneath the horizon into the locked box of night. Two weeks, three days, eight hours, and thirty minutes. That’s how long Foul Legacy refused to let you out of his sight, even after your injuries had closed and healed.

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youngpettyqueen · 6 months ago

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truly a crime we didnt get to see more of Miles' reaction to Julian being augmented because I think he should've punched Richard Bashir in the face

#star trek: ds9 #miles o'brien #Miles' reaction interests me the most because 1) he's Julian's best friend #and we get that part of the reaction where we see his instinct is to comfort Julian and stay with him #but we should've gotten his reaction as a dad #if im not mistaken Molly is about 6 years old at the time of the episode #Miles looking at Molly and realizing Julian was her age when his parents decided he was a failure and had him augmented #you cant tell me he wasn't horrified and disgusted and deeply deeply angry #and I think he should've punched Richard about it #hard #'what about Amsha' Keiko absolutely decimates her #Amsha is like 'what would you have done?' trying to appeal to Keiko as a mother #Keiko hits her with #'I would've loved and supported my child and I would've changed the world itself before I changed anything about them'#I dont remember if Keiko and Molly were on the station for this episode but ITS ABOUT THE VIBES

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goodmorningbluejay · 26 days ago

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That one episode from Teen Titans where Raven's emotions get split into diffrent people except it happens to Vox and all the emotions are acting as expected except for Love.

Love, who's expected to be loud and boisterous, is timid, shy, reserved and always always surveying his surroundings like an animal that's just been put in a cage for the first time. Love acts like everything Vox isn't. Hesitant and dead silent even if asked a question.

Yet the thing that's noticed the most is that Love seems to be terrified of Alastor.

Alastor walks into a room and Love just bolts out of it. While the other emotions deliberately engage in arguements with Al. Acting just like normal Vox would, Love stands in a corner and glares. Staring daggers till Alastor tries to confront him and then he's leaving the room again if he thinks Alastor's getting too close. Sometimes it feels like Love is afraid of everyone unless it's Velvette.

I don't know about you but my favourite types of fics are 'make up fics'. And I would just love for Alastor to think back on his arguement with Vox and realise maybe he should've just been that bit kinder. He shouldn't have said the things he said, hurt him the way that he did because now there's a part of Vox that's standing right in front him and it's scared of him.

#But my hurt/comfort brain can't take that so Alastor and Love probably talk it ouy #Love and Alastor get closer and it goes from love being scared of him to never leaving his side #He just quietly follows Alastor around #But other people make him uncomfortable so he's at a distance if Alastor's talking to someone #Alastor's trying his best ✨#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #staticradio #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #vox hazbin hotel #voxal #vox #radiostatic #staticlovetune #Another episode of “more story ideas I'll never write”

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dykedvonte · 3 months ago

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I think it’s so ironic that the Pony Express escapes a lot if not all blame in discussion. I can’t even say I am excused from it but it’s just how hard people circle back to the characters alone without considering the environment they were made to be in.

Why would they design a ship where only two of the rooms lock? Not the bathroom? Not the sleeping quarters? We assume that all the companies in the universe are this shallow and careless to their workers but we explicitly know the Pony Express in extra vile. They are fed processed slop pack they can’t even really cook and the ration of those pack is meager at best. They hired and made people with a plethora of conflicting demeanors and beliefs work together on a mission where cohesion is important if not an outright necessity and punish them for not being happy about it. There’s no social protocols, not chain of command other than Captain’s word/choice and the only way to enforce that is with a literal firearm. They don’t allow them to celebrate freely and even took away leisure activities that would make them less stir crazy. They are only allowed a few hours of sleep despite their being no other real responsibilities or work on the ship, no matter the position or its importance. With any crew, with any level of synergy, this was a powder keg waiting for a spark.

I’m not saying characters that made mistakes didn’t make huge ones, but I think part of the horror is that at least for some (this is targeting Jimathan) those mistakes are partly made by a force of the hand. There’s a running theme of lack of choice and being forced into something and the very nature of how The Pony Express expected them to function plays a big part.

#like even I forget that all actions taken in the game were people trying to remain in protocol outside of Jimmy #Anya couldn’t have jus stolen the scanner and got the gun cause she’s a sensible person and knows she’d be in legal trouble #or get everyone’s credits docked or just hoping that there’s some chain of command for this sort of thing #Daisuke only really acted in accordance to his direct superiors because he’s an intern he wouldn’t know the first thing about protocol or #what to do in any situation. like this is essentially implied to be his first real job #Curly may be the captain but he still has to follow rules and procedures and we see with the letter the Pony Express likely has very shady #and shitty ones. he gives the best not depressing or totalitarian options he can otherwise everything is just his word which aren’t even his #or like him just asserting his position with the gun which he wouldn’t do #Swansea follows the book begrudgingly because he’s trying to stay right and not fall back into who he once was #I feel like it’s not incorporated nearly enough that the environment they were dropped into heavily affected their actions #say there was a single person higher than Curly or a plan of action when a crew member is considered a danger to himself or others #I think it’s fascinating how people will stick to protocol and break when they get scared or to their limit #cause the game shows how normalcy deteriorates and I think discounting what the characters where put through by the company takes a way a #real and scary aspect of what happened to Anya because as a friend Curly didn’t do enough for her at all his comfort was there and he #appreciated but it was a distracted sort of care but as a Captain he didn’t protect her but he’s was a Captain of the Pony Express like what #if they told him to wait to? he still should’ve done something because Anya was actively suffering and Jimmy should’ve been reprimanded but #he’s a captain with orders like the Tulpar isn’t his ship in the same way like #god I wanna explain this in a way that makes sense but the Tulpar is like designed to breed animosity and work on the bare requirements one #needs to get things done that’s not how people work and if anyone deviates or interrupts that it literally has nothing to handle it #it becomes clear that if any social unrest happens why they just say fuck it and give the Captain the gun because if something happens the #blame can easily be placed on the person they put in charge despite what they put them #in charge of like this is just like work place harassment irl because often the perpetrators are not punished but the supervisors for not #stopping them with meetings or cuts or whatever but the environment the company fostered is rarely fixed or blamed #like why was this allowed to occur? and honestly that is because Jimmy did what he did #ask me about this if this is confusing cause I worded it crazy #mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #the pony express

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kacievvbbbb · 4 months ago

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I wish there were was a scene or two where it is Sokka who has to pull Aang out of the avatar state frenzy.

Maybe Katara isn’t around for some reason (dealing with an active threat or she was just too far away) and it's Sokka that has to step up. because I do like the gradual growth of his reaction of aang in the avatar state going from complete fear to not leaving the area to stay with aang and I think it would have been a nice ed to have him be the one to pull aang out of it one time.

Not because I want to undermine Kataang because they are great. I do not want to ship sokka and Aang. But I just think it would have really added another layer to Sokka and Aang’s friendship besides them being silly and having fun together. I don’t think they really have any introspective moments with just each other like taht and I think one or 2 scenes like this would have deepened their friendship immensely (not that’s it’s not already great!)

Just Sokka deciding that Katara’s not here and Aang needs help now and so he’s got to do it. Every instinct he has is telling him to back away but he’s got to push through because Aang is his best friend, his brother and he’s not going to leave him.

I just think that would have been a nice little bow on their friendship arc with sokka being the more distrusting and harder to win over of the siblings. Like Kind of the inverse of Zuko and Katara’s friendship.

Like can you just imagine Sokka going; “ I got you buddy, I got you I’m right here” as he grips Aang tightly because he’s not the best at comforting words and and so all he can do is hold Aang close and remind him that he’s there that he’ll always be there for him.

I think that would’ve have been amazing.

#I love sokka and aang’s relationship like that’s his buddy #his best friend his pal his home-boy his rotten soldier his sweet cheese his good time boyeh #I also think it could have been a really good Kataang movement like Katara seeing Sokka shielding Aang from the world comforting him #like when you see you boyfriend fully accepted as part of your family like watching your brother stabd up for your boyfriend #I don’t know there’s just something about katara seeing Sokka trying to comfort Aang the way she does but in away only he can #that is so powerful to me #especially is she was feeling guilty that she couldn’t be there for him or that she would t Amie it back in time #I don’t know it’s just something I think would have been cute like healthy male friendship comfort #I also really just want Sokka to say I got you buddy to Aang #throwing thoughts to the void #atla katara #atla aang #atla sokka #sokka #sokka and Aang #sokka and katara #Aang #katara #katara atla #pro kataang #kataang #pro Aang #<- still fucking kills me #pro sokka #pro katara #anti anti Aang #avatar the last airbender #Atla #atla meta #atla thoughts

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superbat-love · 1 year ago

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Bruce trying to let Clark know that he cares about him

#bruce is bad at comforting others #but he is trying his best #dc #dc comics #official #superbat #superman x batman #batman x superman #superman/batman #batman/superman #superman #batman #clark kent #bruce wayne

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moonbugs9058 · 6 months ago

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"That was nice" "No it wasn't"

do you guys think that Shawn and Gus kissed once in like Middle School or something and that was when Shawn officially realized that he liked men too and it was also when Gus became the straightest man alive (bonus points if it was just a completely random thing with no feelings whatsoever they just. impulsively kissed)

"Wow, that was actually kinda nice feeling, I think I like men too" "You didn't brush your teeth this morning, Shawn, and now my lips taste like old pineapple. That's disgusting. I'll stick to women, thank you very much."

(now Gus has to deal with all of Shawn's obnoxious man-crushes.)

(Lass is one of those obnoxious man-crushes)

#psych #shawn spencer #burton guster #bisexual awakening #straight...awakening??#i believe that all best friends have kissed at some point #if you haven't then you will #gus #who is straight as fuck #goes with whatever bullshit shawn is pulling beacuse whats he going to say? no? that never works why would he try that #its not like he minded all that much anyway hes very comfortable in his sexuality #Lassie is one of those obnoxious man-crushes #gus is sick of hearing about it #“i dont need details shawn stop telling me the details”#i havent slept in 24 hours i fully believe i am deteriorating #sorry if youre here for magnus chase updates i am currently being held hostage by an old show from 2006 #shassie

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canisalbus · 1 year ago

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you say machete has to be closeted then why's he always wearing them little heels

Maybe he thinks he's a tiny bit nicer looking in them.

#no in fact he's just a little ahead of the curve let me try to explain #again I'm not a historian I'm just sharing what I've read I might be misremembering stuff so don't quote me on this #high heels became extremely fashionable in the early 1600's probably just a few decades after Machete's time #and they were originally worn by men #because they were inspired by Persian riding boots #if your shoes had heels you'd have easier time keeping your feet in the stirrups (think of cowboy boots)#Europeans saw them thought they looked snazzy and they became wildly popular in noble circles fairly quickly #for some hundred years or so high heels were the epitome of class wealth power and status and they were essentially genderless #remember that concepts of masculinity and femininity are fluid and change over time #things that were seen as manly a few centuries ago may seem downright effeminate to a modern viewer #it's all matter of perspective neither is objectively more correct than the other #they started to separate into men's heels and women's heels around mid 1700's iirc but the changes weren't massive even then #and only truly went out of vogue when the French Revolution hit in 1789 #and people all across the continent were suddenly put off by everything that reminded them #of the frivolousness and extravagance of royalty and aristicracy #so in his canon timeline I don't think people are looking at him and going “hmmm that's pretty gay”#because heels hadn't become gendered yet #maybe he likes how they accentuate his already tiny paws and make his legs look even longer than they are #he's interested in fashion or at least likes to dress nicely in high quality garments #he tries very hard to look his best despite never really feeling comfortable in his skin #he was a real shrimp as a kid and even though he eventually grew up to be a beanpole he might still find the extra height appealing #no one's going to look down on him ever again #I admit the way I draw them is a lot more modern than the true historical style at the time but not outrageously so #artistic freedom and all that in the end I'm not aiming for 100% accuracy #modern au Machete has no excuses though he's just a little bit fruity #if the guy feels empowered by wearing little clip cloppers let him #answered #anonymous #Machete

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uncanny-tranny · 1 year ago

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You know, I feel like other trans people might get this, but it's honestly kind of refreshing when a cis person has, like, undeniable tboy/tgirl/whatever swag. It's like when you come across somebody who speaks the same language as you and you only find out when they start speaking it, too.

#trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #mtf #nonbinary #all this to say that we are existing on a rock hurling through space #and this universe is going to collide into another and does it all truly matter in the end?#a lot of this is based on ideas we have about what constitutes certain people and i think it can be a fun observation #so long as you do not inherently ascribe certain traits as being indicative of who somebody Is #it can be amusing when you're SO confident that somebody is a certain way until you realize how Wrong you were #the amusement for me only comes because it's like... 'you tried your best to box somebody and you FAILED lmao'#and in a weird way it's kind of comforting because it reminds me that we all come into this world with bias that Will be challenged...#...so the best thing you can do is recognize those biases and then try to overcome them through great effort...#...so yes maybe i did think that cis dude had tboy swag but. that's not inherently his problem you know?#it probably just means he's confident in his manhood in a way that reminds me of the trans men* i know and love #i noticed that in him and it reminded me of my friends who are trans so i think 'oh! maybe that's why he's giving off those vibes!'#so while i won't treat him any differently before or after finding out i was wrong i'm still going to appreciate the fact that...#...he and i are literally just Vibing on the same planet and we both don't have time for petty arguing about manhood #i'll acknowledge what inspired those thoughts in me but that is Not his problem and that's good and beautiful actually #i don't always mind the tboy/tgirl swag meme just so long as you don't treat it like an Inherent Trans Experience Only Trans People Have #just recognize where those ideas are inspired from and it's fine <3 #sometimes you will be Wrong and that's actually fucking neutral <<3 #anyway rant over i just think this is /generally/ harmless and fun #like astrology. sometimes you just look up your star sign without ascribing your Entire Life to it <3 #i think what i lot of people mean by saying a cis person has tboy/tgirl swag is just that...#...that cis person has an understanding of themself that comes from deep introspection that isn't necessarily expected of cis folk...#...but it is often something trans people do as part of our exploration of gender...#how is this the FIRST POST to reach tag limit... ask me for more thoughts if you want lol!

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varpusvaras · 6 months ago

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Seventeen stares at Arell. He has to bite his teeth together so hard it feels like they are breaking in order to not to continue saying anything more, no matter how much he wants to do so. Let the bastard say what he wants in turn, and then Seventeen can continue and finish this and do whatever he wants afterwards.

Arell stares right back. He is holding back, Seventeen can see it, because he has forced his face to be expressionless, but Seventeen can still see the contempt in his eyes. He stays quiet for one, two, three, five, ten seconds, and Seventeen wants to fucking strangle him already-

"Just cry", Arell says.

Seventeen feels something twist inside his head.

"What?" He snarls.

"Just cry", Arell repeats. "There's no need for you to stand there and throw insults at me. Just cry like a normal person."

Seventeen wants to go over there and strangle him right now.

"In case you have not noticed already, I am not-"

"Shut the hell up with that already." There is emotion now on Arell's face. His mouth is contorted into a disgusted sneer. "I am not a normal person, shut the hell up. You are just a person, just a human being, there is nothing special about you. There are billions of you all over the fucking Galaxy, and you have the nerve to stand in front of me and tell me that you are somehow special, somehow different from all of them? No, you are not. You are a regular human being that the Galaxy has been kicking to the head for your entire life, and what you are supposed to do now is to be a normal person and cry about it!"

Seventeen wants to fucking kill him.

"Shut up", he says. He isn't yelling. He doesn't do yelling.

"What?" Arell scoffs. "You don't like hearing the truth? That you are not some unfeeling killing machine, too good for normal people stuff? Well that's too bad, because that is what you need to hear, and I am telling you that right now. You are not special. You are just a human!"

"Shut up." Seventeen is not yelling. He doesn't do yelling. Yelling doesn't do anything.

Neither does crying.

"Or what?" Arell asks. He stares right at Seventeen, unmoving, challenging, like Seventeen is not a highly trained soldier, bred for war, capable of snapping his neck with his bare hands if he wants to. He is staring at Seventeen like Seventeen is just a regular person, living their regular life and a normal house, doing menial daily tasks like laundry and dishes and cooking and cleaning because that is what his life is.

There's a stab at Seventeen's abdomen. A phantom pain that wants to spread like a fire to the rest of his body.

"Or what?" Arell repeats, like he can see it, like he knows that Seventeen is not a threat to him, because he is a broken product that has been cast aside because he is of no use anymore.

"Shut up!" Seventeen is not yelling. He does not do yelling. Yelling helps nothing. Neither does crying.

"Or what!" Arell takes a step forward. Seventeen stands his ground, no matter how much his body is burning, no matter how much it is telling him to just collapse to the ground and lay there and scream. "Or what, Seventeen? What are you going to do? You can't keep running away from this! You have already lost the first half of your life, do you want to keep wasting the rest of it away too, pretending to be something you are not?"

"Shut up!" There is fire everywhere. "Shut up! You don't know anything!"

"I know enough!" Arell is standing in front of him and looking down at him. "I know that you are a human! That's all I need to know! That's all that you need to know! Now cry, damn it!"

Seventeen screams.

He is being stabbed through his abdomen, with a blade that is hotter than all the blaster bolts he has ever shot in his entire life, and his legs stop working and he falls to the ground, both numb and on fire, and he heaves the air in and out, like it is supposed to help, but nothing helps, nothing ever does, he has tried, he has tried and nothing ever does, he doesn't need it, he needs to just keep going-

There is a strange noise coming from somewhere. It's guttural and sorrowful. Angry and frustrated. Pitiful and pleading. Seventeen knows the noise. It's how all the cadets had sounded like when they would fall down, bruised and beaten by everything, tired and angry and scared about everything happening around them and to them. They would wail like that, asking for help, and it never helped anyone.

Seventeen listens to it, wondering what had been the cause this time. If it had been the ten hours of training, if it had been the trainers screaming insults for every missed mark, if it had been the pains of a body that had been growing too fast and kept changing even faster. If it had been the fear of what was to come. If it had been the nightmares of death plaguing them even when they were awake.

It never helped. Nothing would change if you cried. No one would ever help. It was pointless. All you could do had been to just stand up and keep going, no matter what.

Seventeen can't stand up.

He listens to the crying.

There are no cadets there. Not even other clones. None other than him.

Seventeen is on the floor and he cries and he can't stand up.

There are hands on him. They pull him straighter and then drag him forwards, and then there are arms wrapping around him.

Crying had never helped. There had been no arms to hold you if you cried. The only thing you could do had been to stand up and keep going.

It's wrong. It's not how this is supposed to go. There isn't supposed to be anyone there. It's not supposed to help.

Arell sits on the floor in front of him and holds him.

It's wrong. There isn't supposed to be anyone there. It's not supposed to help.

It's not-

"I hate you", Seventeen cries.

"That's okay", Arell says.

It's not supposed to-

"I hate you", Seventeen cries.

"That's okay", Arell says, again.

Seventeen cries.

#you ever think about the fact that Seventeen is not much older than the rest of the clones #that he is also just as abused as the rest of them #that he was also once a little cadet with pudgy arms and legs trying his best to learn how to not die #that he was also once a little kid trying to learn how to not die while being told that his entire purpose was to die #that he was once a kid who wanted someone to hold him and comfort him but didn't have anyone to do that #you ever think of that #sw #tcw #Star Writing #snippets #my writing #Alpha-17 #OC: Arell Kayo #Arell/Seventeen #Seventeen housewife AU

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