#i have NEVER stanned a villain harder

[atalana]

also as a further addendum to my bill made a huge mistake underestimating stan post - i was recently listening to the commentary for sock opera

and like everyone and their mother can draw the parallels between ford/dipper and stan/mabel, it's one of the major themes of the show

bill gets the first half of the equation just fine - he thinks dipper can be manipulated in exactly the same way as ford, and while dipper will grow past that by the end of the show, in this episode, he's right. the best ways to get dipper to do what he wants, are to tempt him with all the secrets of the universe, and to remind him that he doesn't owe mabel anything, when mabel's done nothing but hold him back and cause trouble for him. it's probably exactly how he talked about stan to ford back in the day, who was still nursing those grudges and wanted to be the one to discover things no one else had

but the fun thing alex hirsch mentions in the commentary for that episode, is that bill doesn't see mabel as a parallel to stan (bc lbr he barely even recognises stan as a person). he sees mabel as a parallel to himself. yeah dipper and mabel are a good team together, but ultimately when it comes down to it, mabel is a powerful creature of chaos who would choose her own happiness over anyone who relied on her. (alex hirsch at this point jumps into bill's voice to say "how about instead of doing something lame, you do something fun, and crush whoever you want in the process!", and that bill genuinely thinks that is going to work, because it would work on him)

he doesn't expect mabel to destroy all her hard work and crush her own dreams just to help dipper. when he says "who would sacrifice everything they worked for just for their dumb sibling?", he's speaking from experience. he wouldn't. ford didn't. given the type of people bill considers worth talking to, i doubt he's ever come across that type of loyalty before

but the audience has, plenty of times, and will see it even harder by not what he seems. because while mabel does have some of the anarchy and selfishness bill sees in her, that kind of loyalty is a huge part of what she shares with stan

and like in a lot of the commentaries the writers say they weren't sure at first if bill would be the big bad, or how exactly the ending would come together, but in retrospect it never could have been anyone else, and there never could have been anyone but stan to defeat him

because so much of this show is about the relationships between family (including found family), what you would or wouldn't give up for them, but then how much better your life is when you value those relationships over temporary personal gain

so of course the main villain is someone so incapable of understanding that that he is utterly blindsided by the person who embodies it the most

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Evil question, but what if Stan didn't have that tracker in his jacket? For one Bill would have time to set up something more elaborate, (reminder to me, draw Bill and Ford in the castlevania symphony of the night intro scene. For what is a triangle but a miserable pile of secrets) but if that goes wrong it's gotta be so much harder to escape with a full Stan in tow, for either Bill or Ford. Ford for obvious 'it's a full grown man' reasons. Sure the vampires would have an easier time moving him, but you try concentrating when the most delicious thing ever is instinctually trying to get you and all your co-workers to eat it. So that's a mess.

But there's still a good chance Bill just starts dragging Stan across country. Which is bad enough, but now he's gotta listen to Bill talk through all the ways he's going to seduce Ford to evil in the most dramatic YA novel villain-esque way possible. Which is worse than the blood drinking.

In worse case scenario where Stan did not have that tracker, Ford would get a message that Bill was waiting for him, and to come alone ;), then go to the mansion, follow all the signs to where Bill's at in the dining room, then see Stan tied up in a chair covered in blood while Bill's got a whole 'candlelight dinner' vibe set up around them. Ford would have Emma-May and Fiddleford, along with anyone else who could make it, slowly surround the building to wait for Fords signal and pounce.

Then Ford just stomps over to the table, where Bill has a glass of blood and Stan's still dazed from having his head bashed in and is gagged because Bill didn't want to hear his voice. Bills doing a whole 'look who's here :) Isn't this nice, we never get a calm moment together to chat'. Bill's whole thing is he wants Ford to want to be a vampire. Its more romantic, and makes the game more fun. He wont force the transformation onto Ford until Ford admits defeat, and won't let anyone else do it or he'll kill them in the most agonizing manner possible. So Fords safe, and he knows it.

Which means this all collapses when he doesn't submit to Bill's will. Vampires are fighting humans, Bill's 'fighting' (playing) with Ford, and its time for Bill's daring escape! Except he can't just let Ford have Stan! Thats not how the game goes!

So Stan's stuck between them, smelling like the most delicious steak dinner and distracting all the other vampires the whole time. Its very annoying!

Good end! Ford manages to get Stan and drags him towards some kind of garlic ward and Bill runs. Stan's saved! He's hungry! There's all these vampires still here! He is getting so many yummy snacks and head pats from all the hunters about how traumatized he is (did I just make Stan their mascot? I guess he is now?)

Bad end! Bill uses his super strength to nab Stan and run. He's not going to trust any of his henchvamps with his juice box, as he knows how vampires get. So Stan's stuck with the worlds oldest edgy romance obsessed teenager who's gushing and ranting about his future with Ford. Stan is just tied up to a chair in the corner always, Bill torturing him with all the seduction plans and their beautiful undead wedding. You know Bill's doodling Ford holding him with mega beefy arms and shoving the pictures in Stan's face now that he's got a captive audience. Its awful, and on top of it all Bill's drinking out of him and feeding Stan his most disappointing henchvamps as a form of punishment. He really wishes Bill would just bash his head in again, maybe stick him in a closet. Anything's better than this, but apparently he makes the room 'smell nice' so here he is.

Even worse if at any point Bill watches a trashy teen drama and gets it into his head that once him and Ford are happily married that'll make him and Stan family. Gross, but he'll take the loss. Fords worth it. Then he's dragging Stan around and making them do 'family bonding activities as his future brother-in-law' that Stan's gagged the whole time and Bills still sighing dreamily for when Ford will finally be there to put a silver dagger to his throat and maybe cut him a little then kiss him passionately.

If and when Stan finally gets rescued he's got a thousand yard stare and can't look Ford in the face without seeing Bill's drawings or hear about how Fords the perfect man and how much Bill wants to make out with him.

[sokkastyles]

oh my god azula stans really have some different kind of minds. almost all of them keep parroting the same victim blaming shit over and over again. this person probably has the twitter syndrome of downplaying abuse and twisting everything in the abuser’s favor lol. and the casual trauma-olympics is killing me 💀 as a person who has been told all my life that my trauma wasn’t all that bad and that I shouldn’t make a big deal out of it, this kind of comparison about who had it worse is disgusting. especially because azula kept being violent towards her brother all the time, and never was even a tiny bit sorry for it. also the casual bashing of zuko (and also ursa in the rb) is really funny because they both try much more harder than azula to have a good relationship with her. these stans call anyone who doesn’t make azula into a sad little puppy “who just wants love” a misogynist, but they are the ones who are in a desperate need to turn a complex female character into an one dimensional oblivious sad girl lmfao. then they have the gall to say that zuko just should’ve tried harder (by letting her kill him) or immediately understood ozai’s abuse of her (when azula doesn’t even care about their father’s abuse of her brother) or just gave her more love or cuddles or something, as if it would repair her easily lol. I’m sorry for yapping in your askbox, but you’re one of the only people here who actually understands the complexity of abuse. 

Lol, yeah, I've seen this post, and like you said, this is nothing but victim blaming garbage. But also, let's make one thing clear:

OP does NOT like Zuko. You can't actually separate Zuko from "Azula's brother" because his relationship with her is a big part of his story, and she exists largely to be a foil for him. But OP just fundamentally does not like Zuko. OP does not like Zuko's anger issues when they spend the entire post demonizing Zuko for being angry at his abusive sister. OP does not like Zuko's social awkwardness when they spend the entire post acting like Zuko should be Azula's therapist. OP does not like Zuko's trauma when they spend the entire post downplaying it and DARVOing. OP does not like Zuko.

I like reading the "while his little sister is some princess (she is, but still)" in Azula's voice, in the same tone as "she was right, of course, but it still hurt."

The rest of it could be read in the same tone as Azula's villainous breakdown speech to her mother about how fear is the only way to control people and she had no choice and it's actually everyone else's fault that she wound up alone and friendless and defeated in the end.

[utilitycaster]

Feels relevant to current discussion about heroes and villains— I wrote a post recently about enjoying the ambiguity of Andor, the way the show doesn’t reveal the inner motivations of some characters, and the audience is left to wonder whether or not they could have been redeemed or not.

And I have had multiple people come on that post to tell me that there actually wasn’t any ambiguity, and explain everybody’s motivations.

And it is absolutely baffling to me how some people in fandom can’t sit with any level of uncertainty, even in a show that’s specifically marketed as being messy and with shades of grey morality.

I would recommend these folks switch to children’s programming, but even Sesame Street deals with more mature concepts than they seem willing to engage with.

It’s exhausting.

So, I don't follow Andor other than having some mutuals and people I follow outside the CR fandom who are big fans of, as I call her, Mom Mothman - I have gathered that it is very good and very nuanced and has no truly morally perfect options and some fans aren't handling that well (not my mutuals, natch) but that's the extent of it.

On the one hand I do think it's very natural and human to want closure and clear answers and I hesitate to condemn anyone for that; but I do think you point out a massive problem that I think ties into the villain thing I mentioned, which is that a lot of people, and unsurprisingly, a lot of people who are extremely online, have developed a very identity-based morality, ie, you are a good person because you check certain demographic boxes and like the right things and have the right intentions, rather than a morality based on actual actions in the real world. Hence people who post about death to the imperial core or whatever but freak out if they have to share a bus with a homeless person and that ilk. You get people who are into villains, but they're so scared of some rando online being like "but the villain did a bad thing, so you are bad for liking them" that they go "well actually the villain was JUSTIFIED AND GOOD" which makes people who are actually smart enough to separate stanning a villainous character from one's irl morality go "uh, wait a second, if you like [bad guy] because they're interesting and pretend that's one thing, but you're now actively defending the practice of mass murder so long as you're sad enough while doing it, and I think that's really questionable" and now everyone thinks they suck because the first group still is like "um you like Bad Guy so you're Bad automatically" so then they double down harder, and it gets worse and worse. Like, that's what I run into when I talk about frustrations with people stanning villains: if you say "Ludinus Da'leth is a fascinating person whose pain is very real but whose actions caused that pain to persist and ricochet across multiple cultures and civilizations who by all rights should have been allowed to rebuild a better world after the Calamity were it not for him exerting his power to keep destroying it" I'm like hell yeah brother; if you're like "no he was right he's just a sad white boy who deserves peace" I'm like "no he's a mass-murderer who's ruined countless lives across the world, who consistently allies with empires and tyrants over the common person while claiming to be a voice for the common person, and never expressed a lick of regret for any of it and it's pretty sus that you're defending this behavior."

Which is to say, yeah, because intention is prioritized over outcome in these fandom circles, the idea that someone's intention might be unknown terrifies people because they're so obsessed with proving that they're a good person by liking the right characters that if you say "well what if we don't know which characters are right, and that's okay" they feel as though you've pulled the rug out from under them. I actually do think some of these people are capable of engaging at a level beyond Sesame Street, intellectually! The issue is primarily one of being terrified to be seen as bad by internet strangers. I don't have a solution for that other than, to be blunt, doing things in real life in your community so that your sense of self and morality is not so fragile as to be destroyed by someone online calling you a bad person for blorbo preferences.

[zephrunsimperium]

Zephy Shipping Headcanons

Fidds: gay, alloromantic Ford: gay, grayromantic Stan: bisexual, demiromantic Bill: listen, Bill Cipher either does not have a gender or is gender incarnate but no matter who he's with it's gay

Fiddleford has had it bad for Ford pretty much since they met. Ford has always been oblivious, no matter how many gifts or half-lidded loving stares have been given

Ford has thought long and hard about whether he was really in love with Bill. It's easier to believe he wasn't, but love or not he was infatuated and utterly devoted

Bill thinks Ford is a good person. He was hoping that if a Good Person could love him and join him in his quest to invade our dimension, he would feel justified in doing everything that he does. But Ford rejected him, reinforcing that Bill is the villain and always has been. What could he possibly do but double down? 

Bill regrets torturing Ford during Weirdmageddon. Maybe if he hadn't been as intoxicated as he was at the time he would have been more tact. Unfortunately no one will ever know

I used to think Fidds and Ford should get together after Weirdmageddon but I've rethought that after this post. Ford has put Fiddleford through so much and I just don't think either of them are healthy enough to be a thing. Fiddleford is such a sweet person and I worry he'd be too weighed down trying to help Ford with his shit to work through his own

FiddleStan slow burn: they're just as crazy as each other. Fiddleford is absorbed into the Pines family and Stan quickly realizes he likes the guy. As a friend, ya know. The kind you modify your car with or share a drink and tell stories about your life with or make out on the couch wi- ah fuck

Ford is moooore than happy to never dip his toes into romance ever again. He has his family and he doesn't need anything else. A secret part of him misses the god he fell in love with but the loss is harder to cope with than the hatred

[stupidlittlespirit]

Can you give me more examples of Alex disliking Ford? I’ve always kinda felt it, but I never really had much of a real grasp on it.

Okay so this is the part where I look crazy because I can't give you specific examples LMAO but I'll try to explain what I mean. It's more in what he doesn't say than what he does.

Alex doesn't ever come right out and state 'I hate Ford', but he implies his distaste for him through his treatment of him. The way he hasn't gone harder/more explicit on drawing lines about Ford's abuse, or talking about how Ford suffered terribly during the time he was alone, for example. The way he blames Ford inherently for a lot of stuff that Ford, while not blameless, isn't fully at fault for. It's little things, and I'll detail them below.

TW below: Abuse, discussions of victimhood and irl consequences.

He extends more sympathy to other characters whereas Ford is sort of an afterthought. I don't actually think Alex has fleshed Ford out very well in his own head. Remember when he said that he didn't even know that Bill was going to be the main villain? They were flying by the seat of their pants for a lot of the series and it's quite clear in some elements. Obviously, the series is wonderful, I love it, it's one of my favourite shows of all time and Alex is a true talent, but it's obvious which characters are more important to him. He favours Bill a lot, too, so when his disliking of Ford/being ambivalent about him meets his enjoyment of Bill, only one of those dogs is coming out of the fight alive and it ain't Ford.

I think Alex is a genuine talent, I admire his work and his writing. He seems lovely. But I do also think he lacks in skill when it comes to complex abuse depictions.

I see a running theme that he isn't very good at portraying it specifically via 'unlikeable' characters. I mentioned on a previous post that he did this with Pacifica until people expressed empathy with her, and then he decided to round her out. He stated that himself during an old interview; I can't source it but I remember it vividly because it flagged red in my head that he couldn't see she was just a product of her environment. She's a twelve year old girl, for god's sake, she isn't 'just a horrible person', it makes a person sound like Bill when they beef with kids like that lol.

Another thing is in TBoB, there's a really horrendous page where Ford is tortured. It is visceral and awful, and tbh I wish I'd have been able to ask Alex what his top 5 horror movies were when I saw his talk because the scene is very reminiscent of a lot of my fav horrors.

But anyway, it is literal torture and it is also communicating about how helpless Ford is. He's a victim and a 'weak one' at that. Nothing he can do will stop Bill's abuse, he's stupid for trying, he's pathetic, he deserves it.

Now, that is a take I see with Ford a lot. He deserves it. He's asking for it. And it's a really upsetting one. It's also a common narrative told by people who blame victims for the abuse they suffered.

Not once have I ever seen Alex defend Ford. Not once have I ever heard him say 'Ford didn't deserve this', 'Ford suffered as much as Stan'. Not once.

Considering that he said he took 'inspiration' from his friend's 'toxic' relationships (I also think this is a strange and slightly perverse thing to do btw), I would have thought he might feel more strongly about pushing away this narrative about victims deserving their treatment.

I, obviously, also don't know for sure that he did take inspo from friends; he could well be describing his own experiences and just not feel comfortable saying so because men do suffer a different kind of stigma around being abused. That's fine, he doesn't have to out himself or anything, that would be horrible. That's something else entirely and not something for me to speak on.

There are many types of abuse. Ford's experience is familial, relationship-wise (platonic, because nothing about his relationship with Bill is romantic in the most basic sense of the term, if anything you can liken that side of things to sexual abuse) and personal. Ford then abuses himself as a reaction to outside abuse. Not his fault, again, but it does happen and it's a common thing for victims to do. I did.

Ford does nothing but suffer.

I truly don't believe that if you loved and cared for your character, you would be willing to watch your audience tear them apart like that after they had already been through so much and were not actually a villain themselves.

Especially if you had, or knew other people who had, experience with that kind of abuse. He doesn't let it happen to Stan, he came down hard on people when they did it to Dipper, and to Mabel, too.

It would kill me to let my OCs be bastardised like that by an audience and I'd be damned if I did a disservice to victims everywhere over something like this.

I think his lack of care is displayed in his treatment of Ford, as opposed to him outright saying he doesn't like him.

I also understand that this analysis also comes from a deeply personal point of view and my own experience with this topic, too.

This is a TV show, it isn't real and I don't need to take it so seriously, but what I do take seriously is seeing the real world reactions of other people. That does hurt. It hurts to see someone who is (very inelegantly and heavy-handedly, btw) depicted as a victim of abuse be laughed at and made into a joke, or flipped on their head and made to be romanticised with their abuser just to make a ship happen.

Fiction doesn't need to be taken seriously except when the lines begin to blur over into real life. We know people are cruel to irl victims and we can see where these lines blur quite obviously.

I think abuse and uncomfortable topics should be depicted, but I also think that as a creator, if you use them, you have a HUGE responsibility to teach and guide your audience into understanding why these things are bad/what makes them so. You shouldn't make jokes about the topic or encourage other people to go off the rails with it.

You can't control people, of course you can't, but you can hold their hand a bit and show them towards the light. If they choose not to follow it then they're probably not bright enough to pick up what you're putting down and that's on them, but you have to try.

Maybe if I hadn't (and my friends and other victims hadn't) been subjected to exactly the same reaction, we wouldn't feel so strongly about this, but it really does feel like a kick in the teeth to see a large number of people behave so grotesquely about abuse.

And just as an aside: I am a victim, I have been/am an unlikeable one, but it does not mean that I deserved what I got and that goes the same for every other 'unlikeable' victim out there.

*deep breath* but other than that I'm totally normal about Ford and not at all mentally ill :)

[stellaclaw]

re: wc misogyny, it really bugs me how the fandom hasn't had a proper reckoning with the severe misogyny towards squirrelflight in the early days of the fandom. now it's just shifted to bramble stans darvo'ing, but back then it was EXTREMELY common for ashfur stans to call squirrelflight "whore", "slut", and other sexually charged insults (for a kitty cat from a children's book...) and excuse ashfur's violence bc "she led him on and broke his heart so she had it coming". i think most of those people later realized it was at least frowned upon to say things like that, especially after ashfur came back as a full-blown supervillain in the recent arc, but like... i never see anyone actually TALK about that era and the damage it did to a lot of young girl fans at the time such as myself. still fucks me up to think about :/

while part of it will always be contrarianism and the base fandom expectation that a female character will always be judged harder than a male one, i think a big part of why squirrel in particular gets it so hard is because shes "rebellious". she disobeys orders from male characters to do what she thinks is right, she argues back when theyre rude to her, and she generally just shows open distaste for being walked over.

female characters that arent submissive and gentle generally get judged much harder (see: the fandom ignoring frecklewishs negative traits because they cant be sympathetic, mapleshade being so aggressively despised despite other villains doing much more despicable things for lesser reasons, star flower being blunt with thunder is often cited as a reason shes hated). theyre seen as "bitchy" or "disloyal". fireheart goes against his leaders orders to do the right thing? thats great, a good deputy should challenge their leader when their leader is doing wrong! squirrelflight goes against her leaders orders to do the right thing? oh my god, why does she have to be such a bitch?! why cant she just be loyal and obey every order her leader gives her like a deputy should?!

[femmehaljordan]

[same anon as last time] im latino and i like latino jason hc's too! but i never see any ppl headcanon tim as anything other than a sparkling white asian guy - wonder why?

honestly though every interesting trait his fans give him is taken from someone else - from the poc and women characters who end up as either villains he needs to be saved from or his little sidekicks or his caretakers. remove all the fanon bits and hes an asshole rich white kid and thats ok!!! if u like him in the comics thats fine. i guess he can be funny sometimes idk. but at some point u gotta realize thats not tim drake thats ur self insert: just make him an oc and have fun lol

at this point ive blacklisted so many tags AND HE KEEPS SHOWING UP ON MY FEED? im soooooo sick

anyway jason & damian shouldve beat him up harder to humble him !!

(also got so excited when i found out Tim Drake Leaves Gotham City was an ao3 tag. severely disappointed it was just another woobifying trope)

It’s really a huge mystery why he’s only ever pale East Asian /sar

Ughhh you’re so right about the theft of traits being mostly from women or poc. ESPECIALLY BABS OMG. Tim stans love to literally make him canon babs. Related to that DONT GET ME STARTED ON BATGIRL TIM. I’d like to add to the villainizing or making them his sidekicks and add or they just straight up ignore the character exists. 

And like I still don’t care for Tim in the comics, but like at least he’s an actual character and not this weird caricature people have made. Like girl that is not Tim Drake what are you talking about. 

I knowwwwwww. My excluded tag list on ao3 will be like a mile long and he’s still fucking there. 

You know how they talk about Jason slitting his throat and trying to kill him at Titan tower? (do not get me started on that) He should’ve actually killed him. I wish that was canon. 

[eelfuneral]

I know I seem to be writing a lot about my issues with certain aspects of how the Jedi were written lately, but I will say that I do like them over all—especially when we look at individual Jedi characters. What has been prompting my flurry of dissection of the less than nice aspects of the Jedi as an organization has been seeing a number of really uncomfortable arguments in their favor. I’m going to elaborate on this, but I’m putting it below a cut and tagging it as “jedi critical” so you can avoid it if it’s not your thing. So here is a list of fandom Jedi takes that I don’t love:

1. The insistence that the Jedi having a repressive view of emotions is nothing more than a fanon myth. Star Wars canon isn’t terribly consistent: it has a number of different writers and George Lucas is famously indecisive about his beliefs regarding canon. As a result, you have a hodgepodge of differing portrayals of Jedi, but the one that people are most familiar with is the one from the sequel and prequel trilogies. While it can be argued that the Jedi are more about controlling how you react to your emotions and avoiding harming people, especially if you look beyond the films and at other canon material, the first six films don’t do a great job of portraying the Jedi in that way. When Yoda himself has multiple lines about how certain emotions (not reactions to them, but emotions by themselves) are of the Dark Side, can you really blame people for coming to this conclusion? The same goes for the idea that they don’t *really* forbid romantic love. When you have a whole subplot involving a prominent Jedi Knight having to hide a romantic relationship or face expulsion from the Order for having a romantic relationship in any capacity, then this argument doesn’t hold a lot of water. A rule stating that “romantic partner = automatic expulsion” does not line up with the idea that Jedi only ban possessive love.

2. Having any sympathy for Anakin Skywalker means you think that he’s never done anything wrong ever. I acknowledge that rabid Anakin stans who bash every other character to prop him up are very much a thing, but I don’t believe that we need to shut down every discussion of Anakin that doesn’t paint him as an ungrateful brat who needed to stop having so many damned emotions. Anakin was intentionally written as a sympathetic antihero and later a sympathetic villain. People picking up on the sadder elements of his life and the times where he maybe didn’t get everything he needed from the Jedi Order are sniffing out intentionally placed story nuggets that are designed to make his betrayal of everyone he loved in ROTS that much harder to watch. Also, acknowledging that the Order may not have been a great fit for Anakin isn’t the same as saying that it was somehow abusive or evil. No organization, real or fictional, can meet the needs of every single person. Anakin was certainly loved and cared about in the Jedi Order, but his personality and trauma arguably made him incompatible with their lifestyle.

3. The weird vitriol at the idea of Gray Jedi. Gray Jedi were very much a thing in the legends continuity and have been a fanon staple for literal decades. A lot of people aren’t fond of this concept, because they feel that it misrepresents how the force works, particularly in current canon. That’s perfectly fine, but acting like this type of Jedi was never, ever a part of canon is silly. Insisting that it’s a cardinal sin to depict a Gray Jedi in fanworks, which exist specifically to be a free-for-all that may not be canon compliant, is just mean. You didn’t have to like every fanwork or concept, but you cannot control what other people create for fun.

4. Outright denial that the clones are enslaved by the Republic. Clones are described as “property” and “equipment”. The Republic BUYS them. They do not have a choice but to go to war and don’t seem to be paid much, if at all. When a group of people are owned, bought, and sold, they are slaves by definition. I understand that the Jedi were dealt a bad hand and weren’t in a great position to do much about the situation, but I and a lot of other people would have loved to see more instances of Jedi advocating for clone citizenship and freedom. People noticing that the Jedi could have done more for the clones are not stating that they think the Jedi were 100% okay with the situation, and it is entirely possible to acknowledge the deep Jedi/clone friendships that we see in canon while acknowledging what the Republic was doing to the clones. Justifications of the clones’ enslavement mentioning that they liked being soldiers (they didn’t know anything different) or were treated well by the Jedi (Pong Krell existed, and they were still owned by the Republic) make me very uneasy. If your defense of your blorbos reads like Neo-Confederate chattel slavery apologia retrofitted to be about pretend space people, then maybe it’s time to do a little bit of self-reflection.

5. Ableism. When you throw takes like “if the Jedi philosophy regarding emotions is so hard for you, then you are a baby or a sociopath” into the tumblrsphere, they are always going to fall and hit people with disabilities that cause emotional regulation issues. The line between stating that people should not use emotions as an excuse to harm others and outright attacking people for having intense emotions in general is one that I have seen crossed, shat on, and lit on fire in defense of the Jedi.

6. Equating criticism of the Jedi to real-wold prejudice. Saying that criticizing the Jedi is the same as being antisemitic or homophobic is uncalled for. Queer and Jewish people exist in the real world, and pretend space wizards do not. Comparisons like this are insulting because they put real-world prejudice and fandom wank over space wizards on the same level. Do better.

[honeycreammilkshake]

That analysis about Sukuna and Gojo is SO good. I actually think they are really jealous that we love Sukuna even at his lowest. Also, why are they blaming Gege saying he treated Gojo like a tool? Isn't that what his fans do with him? Like, 90% of the discussion about him is his fight with Sukuna. Like, they NEED that fight, it's like Gojo stops existing without it

I'll tell you what, Sukuna can lose 100 fights that he will still be a character, maybe Gojo can't do that if he basically disappears unless they need to convince themselves Gojo won and how important that fight is. It's amazing how a lot of Sukuna fans don't even want that fight anymore while I saw even gojo stans begging sukuna stans to recognize that fight. Myself? I wish it never happened. Let gojo die to those supposed superior villains (aka didn't kill gojo) gojo stans say, but everytime you say "ok then Gojo should have fought Mahito or Kenjaku, never Sukuna!" They just get triggered and say NO, PLEASE, THE FIGHT WITH SUKUNA SHOULD HAPPEN

See? Now I really hope sukuna comes back and gojo doesn't. I'm sorry, but I have never been THIS tired of a fandom, and I have been in Naruto and other fandoms with shipping wars and everything, but that was never as BAD as this.

Leave Sukuna alone, not my fault he doesn't need Gojo to be a character, sorry

gooooood morning, anon. i'm so glad i woke up to this because i spent a lot of time thinking about that gojo vs sukuna last night.

i have noticed that a lot of people hate that gojo is a "tool" in the manga and yet their own headcanons about him are always that he should have to fight sukuna and win. notice that they always want gojo to win, which is never easy in a fight with sukuna. it's a lot of hard work. but besides that, wanting a character to do only one thing and have it go with only one outcome, that's about as one-dimensional as you can get with that character. they literally only want one thing to come from gojo going into that fight, and that's no better than gege treating him like a tool as they claim.

because even if they want gojo to be this complex and fascinating character (ngl i feel like a lot of his personality traits are a bit like filler - he's just a mix of all the fan favorite and common tropes of other anime mentors with some backstory to stir it all together) him only doing one thing ever (winning) is so boring and doesn't do his character justice at all. and the fans who hate on gege can't really see that.

meanwhile, sukuna is more than capable of being a strong character who can have multiple different outcomes, and not all of them have to be him winning. in fact, some of his best moments are when he has to work harder or reconfigure a different plan. it always make him more complex and interesting.

so that's why sukuna winning made since while gojo winning didn't. because sukuna actually had a plan in motion, he wasn't cheating or being fake because he needed to possess megumi to reach that level of power (he didn't even have all 20 fingers so him making up for the lack of it by possessing megumi was an intelligent move on so many different levels) and his unique cursed techniques and longtime experience made him an inherently better fighter than gojo. now i could care less if their positions were reversed and gojo was the one who had a lot more experience fighting, because it doesn't matter when sukuna actually does his best to learn from others and improve his abilities as he goes along. meanwhile, a lot of fans just want gojo to be powerful and not have to take a lesson from others in order to reach it.

another thing is, gojo was born the strongest and given so much wealth and special treatment. even if the jjk world only wanted to use him as a tool (which, cmon, they do to every sorcerer - the whole point of sorcerers is to serve as tools that restabilize the imbalances of power, even Geto's character understood they were all just cogs) gojo still had a lot of privileges and second chances given to him that not a lot of other characters could afford to have.

and idk if we can really confirm this or not, but sukuna seems to have a totally different experience, one where he was immediately shunned by the normal world and only seen as a force of strength for other sorcerers to test their skills against. i don't think anyone took ending sukuna's reign of terror that seriously, they only wanted to claim the title of being the strongest. not only that, so much about sukuna is still a mystery or very layered, mostly him being contradicting (especially where yuuji is concerned) and not revealing his past.

this turned out to be longer than i thought it would, but yeah... it's been on my mind a lot. gojo's character served a purpose when he died. not only did it show how much of a pure threat sukuna is (even if all that power wasn't inherently his own, it still shows he's good at coming up with plans that counterbalance his other weaknesses) but it also showed us how gojo's character can be seen in an entirely different light: someone who lost. he always thought he could win anything, but him dying showed a different side to him, because he even looked peaceful during death.

and if he comes back, fans don't realize it would mean that afterlife scene with geto would be simply meaningless. they adore stsg so much so i'm actually surprised that they want gojo to come back to life, bc it would mean leaving geto behind. makes no sense to me.

anyways, thanks for sharing your thoughts with me, anon. i hope this day goes well for you!

[skaruresonic]

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[iihauntedmuffinii]

A Breath of Fresh Air (The Boys Fanfic)

SUMMARY

Daphne Bennett is a psychiatrist for kids in the foster system. She relies on her powers to help her clients unlock their traumas and emotions in a safe space. Unlike most superheroes, her powers come with a price. She is losing control of her body's health and mental state and sadly, her usual tricks aren't working. When the fluctuations in her powers are too painful she decides it's time to try and find a cure. A cure that she thinks resides center focus on The Seven. Through odd circumstances she is placed near the famous superhero team and their loose cannon of a leader, Homelander.

I have a Spotify playlist associated with the story, so if your interested, and don't care about chapter title spoilers I recommend checking it out.

SPOTIFY PLAYLIST:

CHAPTER FIVE: A Worthwhile Endeavor

Leaving the premises that was now the makeshift hospital and refuge was harder than I thought it’d be. The damage leftover across the streets and roads made getting a cab or an uber extremely difficult. The rubble being cleared out by an influx of construction workers made the usual city noise much worse. I drop myself like a dead heap inside a cab three blocks away from the refuge. I let out a sigh of relief. The aching in my head and my left leg was my souvenir of all chaos that took place today.

The disgusting itch in the back of my mind did not let Stan Edgar escape my thoughts. I can’t believe Stan Edgar maneuvered out of the bad press with a little hero worship! It’s beyond disgusting. Thought I would never say that saving lives was disgusting–but using it to dig yourself out of this press nightmare screams villainous. The only good thing I can even think to come out of this was the possibility of my plan coming to fruition.

The city continued its usual song no matter how horrifically recent these events occurred on the streets. No, the city continues to dance to its own tune unwilling to bend to anyone. That’s one thing I like about living here, the scars are covered up by its gaudy beauty—even the fresh ones.

The night sky is overcast and the bright city lights are too much for my eyes as I’m stumbling into my dingy apartment building. The mix of medical concoctions were definitely causing me to trip over the squeaky steps up my floor; making it difficult to move in a straight line. The constant noise from the outside world fades as I finally enter my apartment. The warm twinkling lights--my new and improved set up is only dampened slightly by the reminder of my parents.

I can’t touch that thought with a ten foot pole.

Instead of focusing on my own issues I push myself towards the kitchen and get out my large pots and pasta maker. I grab flour, eggs, olive oil, and salt to start on the dough. Setting everything to make the dough on the side I turn on the oven top. I place my well loved and beaten gigantic pot onto the oven, and start throwing in my homegrown rooftop canned tomatoes. The garden I created on the rooftop was steady and strong every summer, something I started in secret the first year I moved in. It was also rarely visited by any of my neighbors, so it is safe in comparison to most places.

I grab a small pan and begin to sauté my fresh minced garlic while I’m mashing my tomatoes in the large pot. I grab my remote quickly into the process and turn on one of my favorite childhood films for background noise, The Wizard of Oz . It was something I would watch with my family every time I had to stay home from school when I was sick. Either a cold or my powers, it didn't matter; they were always there for me. My headache from my powers and wound throbs as a painful reminder of what happened earlier today.

I wish I could call Marie but she didn’t have a phone and they were so strict about curfews at Red River Institute. The kids that lived there could not take calls after the curfew, and that meant I couldn’t ask Marie how she was. I have to make sure to call her in the morning. She may have been my hero but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t affected by what happened in front of us. She is no hardened superhero; she’s just a kid. 

I add the dried oregano and sauteed garlic into the simmering pot of smooth tomato sauce that will match perfectly with the tortellini. The smell was amazing at this stage and the first batch of many to come was almost ready to be put in the large Tupperware. As it simmers I limp slowly to my small terrace to open the small glass door. The heat from the cooking was only going to get worse from here, so fresh air was mandatory. The soft melody of Over The Rainbow from Judy Garland’s sweet somber voice hummed across my apartment and out the door like the heat itself. Hopefully none of my neighbors mind the volume level. 

Hobbling back I crush fresh basil–that is also from my rooftop garden–and mix the herbs into the sauce as its final touch. I heave with all my might with the pot fills to the brim with tomato sauce and try to pour with as little mess as possible. I’m successful this round, but I have a feeling this kitchen will be quite messy by the end of this endeavor. I put that Tupperware into the fridge ready to be transported for later. I get the next Tupperware in line and repeat the process, starting to sauté more garlic and make another batch of tomato sauce. As the second batch starts to simmer and cook I begin my favorite part. Making pasta from scratch.

I grab the bag of flour in my wobbling arms and am pouring just enough to start the process. What I didn’t expect was an American flag shaped person to drift into my apartment like a cold breeze. I drop the bag of flour jumping in the air with fright and the poof sound that came with the explosion of white powder would be comical, if it wasn’t me in the center of this mess. Flour covered all of my clothes but nothing got in my face and hair, luckily.

“Didn’t mean to barge in, but the door was open so…” He couldn’t hold in his laughter as he burst into full blown hysterics. The crease in at his eyes showing genuine reaction and the laugh lines that came with a brilliant smile almost froze me to my spot. A real smile.

“You know, you cause a lot of trouble for just one person, Homelander.” I sigh, blowing a stray curl out of my face. I start to sweep the flour into the dustpan and into my garbage bin. I’m pointedly cleaning and not keeping watch of the obvious predator in my apartment. I invited him this time so, it’s on me. 

“Well, I thought you knew that with the whole mind reading thing.” Homelander snarks, but the meanness that was usually there was now vacant. He almost sounds relaxed, even his tornado of an aura felt calm, for him.

“You seem more relaxed after our last conversation.” I gently edge closer in on his personal space, trying to peer into his now cold flat expression. 

“You're doing that thing again.”

“No, I’m not, Homelander. I can read body language just like anyone else and I can see with my own two eyes that you’re more relaxed. Are you feeling better after getting some distance from the news press?” I ask as I turn to the pot and start mashing tomato chunks. 

“Oh, I just flew around and visited an old friend of mine. That’s it, really.” He shrugs nonchalantly avoiding my questioning stare. Unusual for him. He wouldn’t give more details no matter how much I pressed. I should be grateful he came here in the first place, if anything. I let him win this and change the subject for his benefit.

“Well, if you are here to make pasta with me you’re going to have to change out of your fancy suit.” I turn to him, giving him my full attention, expecting a battle of wills to commence.

“Whose clothes? Yours?” He couldn’t help but mock striding around the kitchen as if he owned everything in his vicinity. The sweep of his cape follows behind him like a star-spangled shadow.

“No, my Dad left a few spare outfits for whenever he decides to visit, usually, my mom in tow.” I shrug trying to push thoughts of my parents out of my head.

“How sweet.” He bites out, grinding his teeth, not able to contain the bitterness dripping from his voice. I ignore the disdain and instead run to grab said clothes from my closet. A black tee shirt and black jogger sweatpants. Simple and black. The things my dad wore in a nutshell. 

“Here you go!” I spring up from the closet and unabashedly smile, handing him the clothes with too much pep from the way he's looking at me. Like a two headed snake ready to bit him. “They're a good brand too so the material shouldn’t irritate your skin.” Oddly, that is what makes him grab the pajamas from my outstretched and waiting hands. His face contorts and flickers into an array of ever changing emotions like a flickering old film screen.

He leaves, closing the bathroom door behind him to change. I continue to multitask by setting up my next batch of tomato sauce and kneading the dough on my counter. Dorothy’s now stumbled into the Land of Oz and the song Follow The Yellow Brick Road chanted around my apartment walls. The familiarity of actions and the movie playing in the background lulls me into a calm state. The jitters and nerves melting away to the sound of me repeatedly kneading the dough, the nostalgia of the action melted into my bones and left me feeling bittersweet.

The creaking of my bathroom door opening as Homelander shyly walks out, his confident air now gone in wake of the de-costuming. He was less intimidating–and well big–without his suit padding accentuating his muscles. He looked more normal, even approachable. His aura was twisting and turning chaotically and the continued silence between us only exacerbated it. He finally meets my eyes with a furious glare, baiting me to say something cruel, I expect.

“Well, what are you doing standing there? Come over here and help me make the tortellini.” I wave him over turning my gaze away from him, his held breath releases and his aura stills from its inner destruction. His stiff gate showcases his unease as he crosses the apartment floor. 

“I don’t know how to make tortellini.” He grumbles annoyance obvious in his posture. Stiff and unyielding he juts his chin out and crosses his arms like he was protesting the dough itself.

“That’s why I’m here, so don’t fret.” I grab his arm pushing him to the center of the kitchen island, he scuffs at my bravado. The fabric of my dad's shirt hung loosely against his waist. The urge to feed him began to itch at the back of my brain at the sight.

The dough is laid out and flat after running it through the pasta maker a few times. I create perfect squares across the flat sheet of dough feeling a calm settling over me once again. Getting into the zone from one of my favorite pastimes. Sharing this part of me with Homelander feels like lying down and baring my neck to a predator hot on my trail. Blood rushes to my head and I feel goosebumps trail down my arms and neck. I ignore the chills wracking through me and begin my cooking lesson instead.

“First we fill each of the squares in the center with the filling.” Said squares took over the whole countertop, except for the bowl with the filling laid. It contains ricotta, mozzarella, and parmesan to name just a few ingredients for my Nona’s secret recipe. The recipe has been passed down multiple generations on my father’s side. His family tree was so far back rooted in Italy we call it an ancient Italian olive tree. A family joke that was only funny to the family.

“Nona?”

“It means grandma in Italian.” I grab two tea spoons, putting one in his stiff hands, not taking no for an answer. I start filling the center of the forty squares of dough I have cut. “Now we just fill each square, see.” I plop a small dollop of the filling with my teaspoon in the center of a square. He tries to seen uninterested, crossing his arms and letting out a huff, but he doesn’t look away from my hands. “Here, I have one for you so we can do it at the same time. We will get a lot more done doing it together.” I push a teaspoon into his hand not wasting time or pussyfooting around it. 

“Now, why in the hell would I do that?” His anger that was simmering inside his cold blue eyes became a furious forest fire spreading across his emotional wavelength. “I’m here because you said you had a plan to make my numbers go up. Were you lying?” His eyebrows scrunched forward shadowing his eyes from my view, only making his figure more intimidating. Even without his suit he can still be just as much a threat. He’s not like everyone else. I need to handle this situation with soft hands.

“Homelander, I didn’t lie. What we're doing is a part of the plan.” To make a point I take his hand��too cold for anyone in good health–and scoop the filling with his teaspoon. “That’s a good amount. You can place it in whichever one you wish.” He springs away from me cradling his hand as if burned. I try to mask my reaction afraid I might provoke him into a full on attack, with words or powers I don’t know. 

His once relaxed aura–well, relaxed for him–turns and twists picking up speed. His eyes become clouded and dark, like a stormy sky on the horizon, his mind toils over things I cannot begin to guess at. His tight white knuckle grip on the teaspoon left it with a dented imprint of his hand.

“You still haven’t told me shit Daphne. How is this supposed Martha Stewart nonsense going to help me ?” I’m frozen still at him saying my name; I don’t think he’s addressed me by my name before, only ever called me doctor sarcastically. I don't notice the shift in the air as I’m too far gone inside my head. 

In a step and a blink he is looming over me like the skyscrapers just outside of my apartment. His closeness brought his aura with him. The red desert sand of his twisting aura scrapes against my psyche. I flinch back in pain hitting my hip against the island counter. I ignore my hip pain in favor of the throbbing painful reverb residing in my skull, which pounds to a beat I can’t stop.

“Are you trying to get in my head?” He’s one notch away from yelling, gripping my right wrist as quickly as a rattlesnake’ strike. 

“N-No, Homelander I’m not! I wouldn’t do that–”

“Unless you had a reason to!”

“How can I make you see that I’m here to help The Seven . I’m not some mole to unravel Vought from inside out and I’m not Stan Edgar’s whipping boy hired to tattle. I’m a therapist. I’m your therapist. Did you sense me lying just now?” I hold my head up high, meeting him directly in the eyes, not looking away even as my nose starts to bleed.

“No, none of what you said was a lie. Or you're an amazing liar, which you're not.” As fast as his anger comes it swoops right out of him. His shoulders once tense like granite now settles and his eyes lose their stormy disposition. His combustible aura shrinks within itself, calming to a normal degree. “You're bleeding.” He points to my nose still close enough for me to feel his breath on my face. A dose of adrenaline pulses through my bloodstream keeping me on high alert. I’m the prey stuck frozen at the attention of its predator.

“O-oh sorry!” I quickly grab a towel to hold to my nose. “Just all the stress and bodily injuries I’ve gotten today.” I huff out a sad laugh. I go to my cabinet and get a bright orange teaspoon. “Here you can use this one instead.” I put another into his open hands, his eyes widening at the gesture.

“You're just going to give me another after I destroyed the last one?”

“Well, are you going to destroy this one too?” I ask as if talking to a toddler on the verge of a tantrum.

“...Maybe?”

“Lucky for you I have a few sets of measuring spoons, so it's no worries.” He guffaws, sounding like he’s choking mid swallow. I continue to put the filling on the pasta squares as if nothing has happened at all. From the corner of my eyes I watch patiently; a flicker of conflicting emotions crosses his face like an old film screen. He robotically, as if waiting to be struck by lightning if caught, starts to put the filling on the pasta squares one by one. “So, my plan revolves around what happened today. As you know, Stormfront and Stan Edgar made this terrorist attack into an opportunity. To not only standstill the journalists but win Stormfront and Vought—”

“Yes, I know this already! Cunt Stormfront takes my win right from under my nose and now your idea of helping me is just rubbing it in. Just wow, good for you.” He grumbles out a snort of derision blowing straight out through his nose. He continues filling the squares at a calm and steady pace, for now.

“R-Right, so this whole thing can easily flip against them. If you were not aware they held that little press shoot in the middle of the refuge! Not only that almost no hero but Starlight was handing out supplies for the newly Homeless. If analyzed for even a moment the facade cracks beneath the weight eventually shattering their illusion.” 

“The illusion being?”

“That they care! That’s where you come in, of course. You will be there tomorrow morning with enough to feed all of the newly homeless from the terrorist attack with our homemade food.” I stop to grab my phone taking pictures with both of our hands in the shot putting the filling on the pasta squares. It looks very The Kitchen - esque. “With a few shots like these,” I show off the photos to Homelander who looks nonplussed by everything. “And a coworker of mine will help shoot everything so we can pull the rug right out from underneath Mr. Edgar and Stormfront. Boosting your numbers in the process—you being in the limelight in their steed. They will see you as the one superhero people can actually look up to, to be good. ” 

“Like good, good? Starlight’s sparkly reputation level good?”

“Well, Homelander, all you can do is try.” I shrug at his disbelieving stare.

“I have been trying at this for years.” He grits out, sounding in pain, struggling to push those words out of his tight lips.

“Maybe allowing people to see more of you is a good thing.”

“More of me! Hah! They see me everywhere. I’m on every billboard and have a blockbuster hit coming out every year. How can I not be the most popular member? It's insane! It’s insane…” His frustration is leaking out of him in waves as he angrily throws the filling into each pasta square to each angry word he speaks.

“I mean you . Not the version of Homelander Vought writes in their scripts. I want you to be able to bring the version of you, you want to be and no one else's.” 

“No script?”

“No, of course not.”

“How are we going to pull this off, exactly? Give me the step by step as if you're talking to The Deep.” 

“Okay, you and I will bring in the food and things should be set up at the refugee by the time we get there. I’ve been texting Priscilla since I got home and she’s on board with setting up the camera crew and volunteers.”

“Real volunteers or actors?”

“Homelander! God, no, real volunteers.” I can’t help but burst out into giggles at his audacious response. I try to cover my face with my hands but I inadvertently smear flour across my nose. “Oh, dangit!” Homelander cracks a smile before a quick chuckle escapes his lips. 

Unaware of my own body, my hands drop limply to my sides, ignoring the bubbling pot behind me I’m gaping at his aura like a fool. It's just a hint of the forest from a memory, a smell of pine, and the flavor of lavender invading my senses. The sincerity of his emotions makes me feel warm and tingly all over, like I’m dancing on a cloud.

He’s up close taking over my personal space, but not as a threat, like earlier. This time it's different. His bright smile is gone and his usual flat expression is back in place. His eyes look over my face, as if he was examining me for a lie within my soul. Too close for me I start to feel a red blush spreading across my body. The unnecessary embarrassment only heightened by his now encroaching wolfish grin that took over his face. 

“You're bleeding again, here.” He grabs my discarded cloth and grips my jaw in his other hand. I freeze as if caught in a trap, ready to spring. He’s so hyper focused on roughly wiping the blood off my face he doesn’t notice me tensing up still like a statue. 

A memory of mine flashes behind my mind's eye; me, as a small child being helped up by my father. He was cleaning up my scraped knees and scratched up face because I fell down on favorite a hill to rollerblade on. The feeling of him urgently and roughly wiping the blood off with his handkerchief has a nostalgic warmth buried inside my heart. He would be so rough and silent but he was always so worried. He banned me from playing on that hill ever again. As if that would stop me from getting injured. 

I can’t stop smiling at Homelander’s exact replication of the behavior. The warmth that I feel comes from my own aura. The glowing orbs that resemble a family of fireflies gently touch Homelander’s red storm clouds, instantaneously they converge into one aura, in just a blink. Like two colors put together to make something new my powers begin to untwine and welcome the invasion like a new skin. As if waiting for this very moment my heart settles into a calm rhythm for once in what feels like a long time. 

He steps back not noticing a thing. The towel now covered in blood he throws it in the sink without faltering to ask why. I appreciate it even if that isn’t really a good sign considering his lack of empathy. Or maybe just not expressing it doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it. I can’t pinpoint which one with him.

“Thanks, now that we have the first batch filled, let's start the best part!” I grab his arm, steering him back to the island counter. I gently handle the pasta square with the dollop of my grandmother’s recipe filling in the center. "So, first we have to wet the edges of the dough squares with a brush of water, and then fold the dough over to make a triangle. Second step is to pinch the sides together to seal the ricotta stuffing inside of the dough. Now, we have to take the two bottom points of the triangle and fold them underneath into each other and pinch together to seal and form your tortellini.” I do this with meticulous ease. My ability to make perfect tortellini coming from time and annual family dinners. His eyes are shining with awe and his mouth is left slightly agape.

“I’m not some cook, Daphne. How'd you expect me to do that?” He  spits out, taking a few steps towards the projector in a huff, seeming to give up on cooking all-together.

“You just have to try. I don’t expect anything other than that you try, okay. Or are you afraid?”

“Afraid of pasta? Hah, I’m the motherfucking Homelander. I’m afraid of nothing.” Acting comedically confident he strides back towards the counter ready to impress. His hands frozen midair not remembering the steps, I presume. Without any prompt-to I start to make another tortellini with slow precision. He watches closely, but when I catch his eyes he looks away immediately, as if his hand was caught in the cookie jar. A little involuntary smile quirks up at the corner of my lips.

He hesitates before finally grabbing a pasta square himself, trying to mimic my instructions. His hands are large unlike mine, making it a little more difficult to achieve pretty results. His eyebrows furrowed in intense concentration and one of his sharper than normal canines bites at his lip in anticipation. I make twelve tortellini at my usual pace while he concentrates on his one. 

“Ah!” He murmurs out, surprising himself with a completed tortellini gently lying in his palms. His smile is small, he can't wipe it off his face fast enough before I have a glimpse of it. The tortellini is too big on one side and the folds aren’t correctly made into a triangle, but it's an amazing start.

“Wow! That’s really good, definitely put that one to the side so we can eat it tonight.”

“You're making them for us too?”

“ We're making enough food for a whole refuge. We might as well make ourselves dinner while we're at it.” I shrug, not minding the extra work. Cooking is one of the few things that help me not spiral over my own problems. It's like a form of meditation for me. I give him a thousand watt smile, trying with all my might to be encouraging. “I’m going to make my special butter sauce for only us, though.” I whisper trying to act conspiratorially with a finger to my lips. That reminder has me putting in the next pot of tomato sauce. Turning away Homelander continues to make more pasta, more assured than the last time, but he kept his expressions minimal. 

“But I could change my habits

Never more be scared of rabbits

If I only had the nerve.

I'm afraid there's no denying

I'm just an awful dandy-lion

A fate I don't deserve.”

“Wizard of Oz, now? I thought people your age liked John Wick and Barbie .” The sardonic tone coming off his timber voice surprises me from my cooking stupor.

“I like those too. Hey, you know, I never mention your age when we talk!” I turn back to make more tortellini, and to admonish him, of course. 

“You're just surprisingly old fashioned for someone so young, it's actually refreshing.” His praise almost sounds like an insult, but I choose to ignore that, in favor of being the bigger person. His shiny white smile and blue eyes sparkling with amusement doesn't faze me. Ignoring the bubbling frustration and embarrassment is probably the best choice of action anyways.

I grab more pasta squares and start folding it into tortellini as if it's my second language. He watches me close like a hawk viewing a mouse struggling beneath its sharp claws. Fascination sparkling in his stormy eyes makes me audibly gulp, nerves sparking across my body. 

“They’re so perfect.” He’s hypnotized as he watches me make five tortellini in quick succession and to absolute perfection.

“Well, they’re only perfect because I’ve been making them since I was a kid. My grandmother who we visited in Venice taught me how to make them. My mother tried to keep up the tradition for my father’s sake but she’s a better baker than a cook. You should have seen my first tortellini, it looked like a monstrosity and my grandmother told me just that,” I burst into giggles at the memory. “Your tortellini are a great start! You’ll be a professional chef in no time.” I motion to the five other tortellini he’s finished laying on a platter. They were lumpy and misshapen but they were perfect. 

“Is this your grandmother’s recipe?” Homelander asks, ignoring my pointed staring. I’m completely baffled at him continuing the nice conversation.

“Yes, actually. Most of the recipes I make are my family's. I have a whole recipe book passed down to me on my father’s side. The instructions on how to bake tiramisu cakes all the way to Lamb Ragu are inside that family treasure. It's pretty much an heirloom at this point.”

“All for a bunch of useless recipes. I don’t understand what the big deal is.” He scuffs pointedly glaring at his misshapen tortellini.  

“You haven’t tried them yet. Maybe you’ll change your mind once you have.”

“Food has never changed my mind about anything.” He states with a dull condescending tone I can’t help but roll my eyes at.

“Look, wait and till you try it. Okay?”

“Fine.” He scuffs with a huff only a celebrity or a toddler could replicate. I sigh back at him, it is almost endearing if his attitude wasn’t so exasperating.

Somehow, we stumble into a comfortable silence as the Wizard of Oz plays in the background. As I get into a rhythm of making dozens at a time I start to boil a batch for just us. Including Homelander’s few lumpy tortellini into the boiling pot. I continue to simmer the butter sauce in a small pan to the side. Finally, after finishing the last batch of tomato sauce I put the last tub into the fridge. I throw the dirty pot into the sink to deal with at a later point in time.

I work around Homelander’s unsettlingly invasive presence by dancing around him in my small kitchen space to set up my coffee table. I quickly grab two of my favorite plates–roses with vines decorated on the trim–and place them at the table with my silverware. I can feel Homelander’s eyes following my trail the whole time. 

I gently fish out the pasta with my slotted spoon placing the finished tortellini in a large ceramic bowl. I put the next batch of raw tortellini into the boiling pot without missing a beat. I place the bowl in the center of the coffee table grabbing the sauce and fresh parmesan to sprinkle on top. Homelander walks cautiously over to the coffee table as in the kitchen rushing to grab the basil. He sits on the couch looking vacantly at the bowls and plates in complete silence. 

I stumble and almost fall flat on my face as I hurry to serve Homelander. He sits silently at my couch of all places. No where else to really eat in my small apartment so he’ll have to make do, sadly. Like a normal commoner such as myself. I shave the fresh parmesan over the hot pasta adding the sauce lightly on top. I gently place a few basil leaves over each of our plates as the final step to a perfect dish.

His clumsily made but full of potential tortellini shimmered on top of the bowl proudly. I make sure to put his few tortellini on my plate. 

“Enjoy!” I sit beside him with a chirp of excitement I can’t extinguish. He doesn’t dig in first so I take the first huge bite, stuffing my mouth full. He watches with a small twist of his lips he can’t cover up with his hands fast enough. “Delicious.” I say with a mouth full; my Nona would have thrown a shoe at me for that misbehavior. He takes a few bites at a calm and polite pace versus my obnoxious gusto.

“It’s really good.” He whispers, so quiet I barely catch before the draft steals it away. He continues to eat as if he said nothing in the first place, now putting all his attention towards the movie. I can’t help it when my smile spreads into a wide goofy grin. He glances back up at me and the smile he gives back looks painful, but it's a positive, nonetheless. 

“Worthy of family heirloom status, huh?”

“Yeah, I think it qualifies.” He settles into the couch, relaxing around my presence since the first time I met him. He continues to eat with grace I can’t replicate. The theme of Over the Rainbow starts to gently play, the beat of the symphony swelling with Dorothy’s final words in the film.

“Then Toto’s safe. You hear that,

Toto? We’re both safe. And we’re

home. Home! And you’re all here.

And I’m never going to leave here

ever, ever again, because I love you

all. And… oh, Auntie Em, there

really is no place like home!!”

The film goes to credits as the theme continues to play it out, a classic film with a message that has always been dear to my heart. But the idea of home now left me feeling confused and the deep pit in my stomach I’ve been ignoring swells. No, don’t think about it.

“I keep making you watch all my favorite films. It feels unfair. Next time you come over, it's your pick. What’d you say?” I push the bad thoughts away to focus on something brighter, oddly enough that happy thought is attached to Homelander.

“You’d want to watch Taxi Driver with me?”

“ Taxi Driver ? Ah, well if you want to. I always saw it as kind of a sad story, but if you want I’m game.” 

“You think Taxi Driver is sad? It's revolutionary for men all over the world. That we take control of the world with our own two hands, and not be pushed by everyone that can diminish you. It's inspiring.”

“Wow, I guess I’ll have to watch it again. Maybe I’ll see it with a second viewing.” I finish my plate quickly. John is barely on his third bite as I run to the kitchen to finish the rest of the tortellini. The next movie is already in queue, not surprisingly one of my favorite Disney films, Robin Hood starts. 

The strumming of Oo-De-Lally fills the silence. I put the second batch of tortellini in tupperware ready for travel. I begin the next batch of dough to repeat the process all over again. In my steady rhythm of cooking I forget about Homlander’s existence, going into a trance as I roll the dough.

“I will see you tomorrow at the refuge with the camera crew. It’ll have to be at nine-thirty because I have a commercial to shoot at seven, but I assume you already know that?” He quirks his eyebrow up, testing me.

“Yes, Homelander, I told Perscilla to be there at nine to set up. I’ll be there to help and get the food prepared before the camera crew arrives.” I pipe up loud and clear like a sweating cadet under the scrutiny of their commanding officer.  

“Hmm,” He stares down at me with an eerily steely stare that gives nothing away. The tension was so thick in the air that I was choking on the smog that was his aura.

He pats me on the head gently and steady, my blond curls bounce with each pat. His presence brings the images of a flowing current in the middle on the mountain side, not too far from here. I meet his ironclad stare and it feels like lightning struck my body.  His too wide smile only makes his sharp fangs look more deadly. I gulp down my nerves with a wobbly smile he won’t find fault with.

“Good. Don’t disappoint me, now. I’ll see you in the morning.” He makes for his suit, turning himself away from prying eyes. His aura that was calm now begins to reawaken, the sharp cutting sands whispering in my mind. 

“You can keep those, if you want.” I stop him before he can make for the bathroom. “I don’t think my dad will mind. I’ll see you tomorrow, Homelander. Have a good night.” I approached him slowly, as if he was a rabid animal that could attack at any moment. No matter how good tonight is for him, the aura tells me a disaster is always waiting in the rafters, ready to strike at any time. His response to that is to fly out of the terrace with his suit in hand and my Dad’s pajamas as his attire.

He’s gone and it feels like the electricity in the air has finally dissipated back to its usual setting. The disturbance in the environment rectified with his tense passing. That feeling that settles over me is not numbness, no, it's a feeling of cold sharpness sleeking through my veins. Like breathing in air so cold it hurts going down your lungs. The foreboding feeling of being exactly what I didn’t want to be, a Superhero's lapdog. I gulp down the guilt and return to the cooking, willing those thoughts out of my head. 

It’s 3am by the time I’m done with the last batch of tortellini and I’m thoroughly exhausted. My wounds and meds are now taking its full blow on my mental state, but I still force myself to clean everything up, and I do so in a zombie-like state. Done with that by 4am I settle into my bed to get three blissful hours of rest. 

My alarms blares at me in my ear as if I just closed my eyes for sleep a minute ago. Oh, today is going to be a long day, isn’t it? My head throbs with a dull ache, a flash of pain reminding me to call for a Doctor’s appointment. Also, I need to call Perscilla to see how everything is going on her end. So many things to do with so little time. And on very little sleep. 

I run to the bathroom rushing to take my gross bandages off my head. The thin scar encroaching my hairline was pink but thin, not too noticeable thankfully. I get into the shower making it cold to get my blood pumping and my mind alert. I throw on a cute summer dress that’s eggshell white and slam my feet into my favorite white kitten heels. I grab for my white scrunchie throwing my wild curls into a high ponytail, annoyingly, my hair still reaches down to my waist even put up. I need to get a haircut before I’m called Cousin It at work. I sigh as a few baby curls escape to frame my face. I quickly put on a pink lip-gloss, lightly dust blush across my cheeks, and dab mascara over my eyelashes to complete the look. Getting ready in under thirty minutes is my new record! 

I stumble around my apartment as I’m scrambling to get everything I need to bring to the refuge. Six tubs of tomato sauce and tortellini may be heavier than planned for my noodle arms, but with my determination and grit I open my apartment door with all in tow. My heart is running a mile a minute as I’m balancing everything as gracefully as possible down the creaky stairs. 

“Do you need help with that, dear?” My father’s booming voice intimidates most, but to me his gruffness always felt like coming home. Until now.  His sudden appearance and tall shadow was completely blocked by my comically tall stack of Tupperware blocking my line of sight. It's a miracle I didn’t drop the food with his surprise appearance.  

“I-If you don’t mind.” I mumble out, breathless. He grabs for all but one Tupperware handling it with ease. We walk out of my apartment building in unison, I stay silent not knowing what to say.

“You haven’t answered any of our calls since…” His warm deep timber was gruffer than usual; his aura practically oozing sadness I couldn't ignore. The saltiness of tears swarm my taste buds like a bad thought that wouldn’t go away. 

“Since the news broke out that superpowered people were not born, but made. Yeah, I haven’t felt charitable enough to give you guys my time right now. If you haven’t noticed, I'm kind of busy.” I bite out, closest to yelling at my father I’ve ever been in my life. My bitterness leaking from my aura like a bad infection, and though I want to lash out, I know that won’t get me anywhere. I’m in this situation because of my own dumb actions, and they are under constant threat of it because of me. 

So, I just need space. To think over my feelings, and it's for the best I try to keep them at an arm's length. It would keep them safer if I do so. I take in one deep breath, and then let it go.

“I need to be somewhere dad. So, why’d you come?” I decide being direct is the best course of action when it comes to my father. 

“I want you to have this.” His hands are trembling as he passes me a manilla folder with the words Sage Grove Center stamped in bold black ink across it. “We wanted you to know everything before you started looking into it yourself. When you’ve read it, come see us and we will tell you more. Please, honey, promise me you will come home after reading the file!” He stares me down with a dark blackness that pins me in place.  I’ve never heard him sound so distressed before. I can’t stop myself from saying it.

“I promise, dad.” I gulp down the cold warning feeling dinging inside my brain. He sighs out of relief, looking less haggard with my verbal confirmation. He gently steers me to a taxi helping me put the Tupperware in the trunk, safely securing it so it doesn’t splatter everywhere. I instinctively hug him goodbye, but I don’t smile.

“I love you, Daph.” His hug tightens to almost a painful degree, as if I was going to melt away like sugar being pelted with rain.

“I’ll see you soon dad.” I mutter out before running into the cab, not able to say I love you back. My dad’s eyebrows twist up and tears were being held back as he weakly wave me goodbye as the cab drives off. This fills my heart with deep pain that continues to needle at me as the drive progresses. As the taxi gets stuck in traffic I make a doctor’s appointment for the next morning. I don’t need an unknown head injury plaguing me when I’m already stressed enough as it is. 

Checking my email I can see Starlight’s schedule being changed early this morning. Apparently, she had to visit her cousin in North Carolina and wouldn’t be at any functions for a couple of days. I need to call in and check on her then, or would that be too invasive? She is on vacation, so does that mean no work calls? I’m not a work call, I'm her therapist. I quickly press her name in my contacts before I can doubt myself for a second longer.

“Hey, it’s Annie, if you want to reach me leave a voicemail and I’ll get back to you when I can.” Her sweet voice comes through the phone in a dull monotone that’s grating to the ear. I left a quick voicemail asking her how she’s doing and how I just wanted to check in. Before I’m done with the voicemail my cab driver is helping me out of the car with my Tupperware in tow. 

I walk through the construction site and into the refuge building as quickly and gracefully as I muster. Dodging moving bodies from every corner, barely keeping the Tupperware in my arms by the time I reach the kitchens. 

Volunteers with Vought branding on their shirts were scrambling about preparing for food to be served out. People in not so obvious Vought branding were prepping some camera men that were standing at the fringes of the entrance. Perscilla Jones stood center of the chaos with her immaculate hair shining bright like a beacon of hope. Her aura flares with life and vigor like a fresh and steady campfire. She was in her element and the perfect person for this job.

I drop my containers onto the kitchen counters and find myself being swarmed. The volunteers take action immediately grabbing Tupperware after Tupperware prepping it to be served to the refugees. Like a unit of soldier ants they all work in unison, it's inspiring if a little scary. Not needing anymore help with that, I walk towards Perscilla to see if there’s anything else that needs to be done.

“Hey Perscilla! Do you need—” A forceful breeze passes the room and that is the only warning the normal person has before Homelander’s dramatic entrance. 

“Hello, everyone! So, how can I help?” His voice is booming for everyone to hear. His perfect posture and calm smile that looks practiced. His exact verbiage feels like it was ripped right from Dawn of the Seven . I told him he didn’t have to act like there was a script…but maybe that’s his autopilot. Interesting.

The camera crew that hovered at the entrance of the makeshift cafeteria enters the scene the moment they realize their star has arrived. The volunteer workers are grabbing bins of the food and setting up buffet- lines for people to serve themselves. Volunteers would be posted at that station so they can help out if needed. The volunteers all gapped at Homelander’s sudden arrival, all stopping together like the ripple of a stilling wave.

Perscilla Jones' quick steps towards me are annoyingly loud with each point heel tap and her humongous bright white smile is nearly blinding. She grabs me by my shoulders, wrinkling the large puffs of my sundress. I can’t help but see the predator on the horizon blazing a trail towards us, my heartbeat grew erratic at the sight . I’m frozen to my spot, instinct of a prey animal, the prey animal being me.

“You have to introduce me to Homelander, Daphne. I’m so excited for how good this is going to do on Instagram and Twitter.”

“And how good it’ll be for the people who recently lost their homes.” I add in quickly–Perscilla giggles at that, like I was joking, giving me a shrug as a response. 

Her glowing bright sherbet aura bursts into a bright orange sweet flavor of excitement that took over all of my senses. She was too happy right now to even think about the reason why she’s here. Only that the opportunity has landed on her lap and she’s going to take full advantage of it. Happiness stemming from something like this is not surprising, but I can still feel the bitter disappointment lingering in the back of my thoughts. 

“Do you need anything else from me, Perscilla. I could help the volunteers if not–”

“No, you’ll be helping me, remember?” Homelander’s sardonically cold voice would be chilling if I wasn’t preparing myself for it beforehand. He maneuvers around Perscilla, completely ignoring her, like walking by a bug on the subway. Perscilla perceptively decides to step out of Homelander’s way, letting me go from her too tight grasp. I absently rub at them, feeling the eventual bruises growing on my already wounded body. “I thought we talked about this last night.” His sharp blues eyes not only glare daggers down at me as he steps a little too close, but his scowl is pointed directly at Perscilla. 

“R-right! Um, Perscilla I have these photos I sent to your email of Homelander cooking the food being served. I think it’d be a great addition to this event for the social media campaign.” Perscialla nods to every word I say as she starts going through emails on her pristine phone. 

“That’s perfect! It’ll round out the whole photoshoot, great idea, Daphne.” Perscilla’s sweet excitement now felt more brown-nosey since Homelander came into the picture. It made me feel extremely uncomfortable and the slow crawl of goosebumps traveling down my arms didn’t help. 

“T-thanks–”

“Now that’s settled, let's get to it.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders, showing us as a united front that Perscilla ate up, but it felt more threatening than friendly to me. She steers us to the serving tables where the volunteers prep the food. Every utensil and decoration had Vought’s logo covered all over them, it made my skin crawl.

“Okay, Homelander just pose behind the serving table and we will composit the photos with the ones of the volunteers.” Perscilla says this as if listing off her grocery list, not even glancing up at us as she continues to tap at her phone. The ringing in my ear speared itself through my brain and I couldn’t get it out. 

 “W-what? No, n-no Homelander is serving them with the volunteers.” I step forward out of Homelander’s grasp trying to gain Perscilla’s full attention. “We’re both here to participate in helping the refugees; no pretending, no lying.” 

“Of course, Dr. Bennett, I understand. This is just usually how things are shot for social media, but if that’s what you want. Thank you again for this opportunity Daphne.” Perscilla calls for the camera crew to set up, walking off and grabbing a volunteer by the shoulder to boot. 

“I like how you tell people what to do.” Homelander’s voice is closer than expected, I jump up high in the air in response. I blow a curl out of my face deciding facing Homelander head on is always the safest bet, meeting his stare directly.

“That just wasn’t the plan. You’ll see. It’ll be better if it's organic. Like food.”

“How do you know more about marketing than a marketing manager?” Sarcasm is evident in the quirks of his lips and the swathy tone in his voice.

“I know people better. I don’t understand social media but I know for a fact people will see your interactions with them. That will be what has the biggest impact on your ratings. More than you could imagine.” I put all my soul into what I’m saying, seizing his hands to hold in mine. 

“Alright, alright.” He nods with a sigh. He lets go of my hands walking to the serving area as if the various utensils would obey him with a single look. “This plan of yours better go as planned or we know your job here isn’t going to quite work out. Come on then, Daphne. Help me with this since this was your brilliant idea.” He gripes bitterly, scowling into all the hot pots with tortellini and sauce filled to the brim. He flinches away from the simmering pot of sauce, double checking his cape to see if any got on it. I can’t stop from smiling at his antics and he looks up to see I’ve caught him in the act. He glares at me as his only form of comment.

“Don’t give me all the credit Homelander. You did inspire me to do this after all.” I say loudly and clearly, the on coming flux of people entering the cafeteria can hear my words clearly. As well as the now recording cameras. His singular left eyebrows quirks up as if accusing and questioning at the same time. “You are the one after all who wanted to do more for the refugees when we were last here. You wanted to change things, and now we're trying to change things.” I steer him now to face the growing line of people waiting to be served. 

The volunteers all hover around us, smiling wide and bright for the cameras, but all the nerves frazzle at the edge of my brain like static shock. I inadvertently move to the sauce station, right next to Homelander, and serve the first person in line. A small boy with wild curly brown hair and a wide toothy smile that brought the taste of fruit loop cereal on my lips and the memories of blowing bubbles out the windowsill. The ache in my heart soothes over the gaping bloody wound ever so slightly when I fill his bowl to the top. 

“Thank you, miss!” His smile widens across his cherub face and his dimples appear. So cute.

“You're welcome little mister.” He runs off ahead, settling at a cafeteria table where a woman waited with a patient smile and a warm embrace. I check to my side to see Homelander hasn’t self combusted by being left to his own devices. No but the volunteers seem to be fumbling around him like slobbering idiots, not focused at all on actually helping. 

“Thank you so much Homelander for all that you’ve done for us!” A young woman with her hair wrapped in a beautiful Hijab states before taking the bowl of tortellini. 

“I appreciate what you guys are doing here. It really is helping my family and everyone else here.” A large gruff man who had rad patches all over his skin–probably burns from the look of them, voices to each volunteer he sees.

As each person passes us people are in better spirits than they were when they entered the cafeteria. The atmosphere has shifted to a hopeful tune inspired by the smiling faces all around us. Surprisingly, Homelander’s stiff posturing eases with each smile and adoring comment that comes his way. The line slows to nothing and the whole cafeteria is filled with people eating their home cooked tortellini. The smell was almost as good as it was in my kitchen, making my stomach growl at the thought. 

A boy who could be either ten or twelve who was shyly hiding behind his mother bravely steps forward as the camera men start taking their equipment out of the building. Looking closer the child wore a well worn shirt that had Homelander’s insignia plastered across it. 

“Could I have an a-autograph, p-please? You're my favorite hero in the world!” The smile is so bright and so full of awe it could make anyone drop to their knees and go aww. Homelander gets down to his level and signs his photo and the shirt he is wearing, making the boy squeal with delight. “Thanks so much Homelander!” He runs back to his mom sitting at the cafeteria table in the back corner. 

“You really made that kid’s day, Homelander. He’ll probably remember that for his whole life.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, of course. Those interactions are what make people love you. I thought you knew that?” I ask dumbfounded. No wonder he’s been trying at this for years and not getting any results. He’s like a calf without his mother to guide him from bad decisions, it would be endearing if it wasn’t so sad. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” He grimaces glaring at me, as if knowing what I’m thinking. Shouldn’t it be the reverse? “He looks kind of like my son, Ryan.” He murmurs under his breath barely able to admit it.

“Well, I’m really good with kids, if you ever want to introduce me. I was actually a child’s therapist before I was hired on for The Seven, so I have some understanding of kids . ” I shrug trying to show any emotions in the admission. Bringing up my old job only made me feel painfully nostalgic, and some bitter madness needled at me, reminding me I failed my attempts to understand my powers at every turn. This job being the final stage in my failure. I push that thought away focusing back on Homelander.

“Let’s see how this goes. You’ll be lucky this doesn’t become a failure and I don’t fire you.” He threatens under his breath, so only the two of us could hear. The volunteers all sat at a table eating their own share of tortellini ignoring us for now. The idea of being fired seems enticing, but impractical at best. A danger to my family at its worst.

“I think this could be really good for you.” I say bringing my hand up to touch his arm, but stop before I make contact. The need to be close to people was something I didn’t feel often, but Homelander felt like a flame and I was the moth that just needed to be a little closer. Before I burn up in flames, of course. He takes my hand in his own, making me flinch from my stupor. 

“I have a meeting with Ashley soon. I’ll need to get over there before ten thirty.” We both glance at the clock on the wall to see it flash ten fifteen at us like a warning. The tick of the small ticking clock grates my migraine. “Do you want me to fly you there?” 

“No, no that’s okay. I’ll help clean up here and I’ll be at Vought in a half an hour. My schedule isn’t filled to the brim like yours is.”

“Didn’t you know?” He couldn’t help the wide smirk growing across his face.

“Know what?”

“You have to be at all of the press junkets with us, not just movie sets and premiers. Looks like your schedule is busier than mine, I’m afraid.” Like the cat getting its cream, Homelander looks too satisfied informing me of this. My little migraine turns into a full blown migraine now. I could feel the mind splitting pressure terrorize itself behind my eyes. 

“Oh, well I’ll be at Vought soon. I promise.” I give his shoulder a squeeze with assurance. The word promise striking into Homelander his aura’s once calm now springs to life once again. Ever turning and hurting those in his vicinity.

“Right, you better Daphne.” He grits out before leaving the cafeteria with a flashy smile towards the refugees. A few people stop him on his way out asking for autographs, he obliges not batting an eyelash at the continuous requests. Finally leaving the scene it feels like I’m not walking on a tightrope anymore, and my heart could rest for a moment.

“You guys look cute together.” Perscilla crones in a too sweet voice for me to stomach. I jump again, surprised for what feels like the millionth time today.

“What! You can’t say that Perscilla. Just implying it would cost me my reputation and license as a therapist. Probably my job too, honestly.”

“Well it's only trending on this one measly subreddit. Nothing to fret over Daphne.”

“O-okay, good. N-nothing to worry about then.” I grit out trying to believe it myself. Nothing to worry about clangors in my head like a bell toll, ringing over and over to a deadly hymn. The cold sweat running down my body and the throbbing headache wouldn’t stop reminding me about the traumatizing events that only happened yesterday. Being in the center of it all didn’t bode well to me in the least. The feelings of foreboding chilled my neck, as if Death himself trails his bony fingers down my back. 

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[utilitycaster]

Apologies in advanced for the long ask, but i think it is telling that the sort of people who argued for Predathos to be released, and that the Prime Deities deserved to be killed, are the same type of people who would turn around and argue that Solas has a point and that the Veil should be rent open. Hilarious, considering that the talking points usually used to argue in favor of either one are at complete odds with the other.

Both fandoms are guilty of ripping characters agency away so that they can't be blamed (that wild take from a few weeks back that Solas' whole deal was that he was basically manipulated by Mythal into trying to take down the Veil vs. The arguement Bells Hells "had no choice" regarding their decisions in Predathos' lair), arguing that both parties goals is to "save the little people" and then not being able to actually put to words how their grand plans would actually help against systemic issues (also, in both situations, no one actually asked the "little people", who are portrayed as NOT being on board with either plan), and would rather risk a cataclysmic event to "change the status quo" (and feeling antagonistic towards storylines where people are doing that work to dismantle systems because it's "not enough"), it's just more of the same.

Both fandom groups having a history of not being able to handle anyone who does not share their opinion can't be a coincidence either.

Insanely, I also can imagine that if, say, Taliesin says something less than positive about Ashton during the upcoming wrap-up (and he very well might, considering his history, that he was likely playing with a similar theme that he has with many of his characters and never intended for Ashton to always be "right", but to have the assumption that they are "right" and putting a force of personality behind it and seeing what happens) that any diehard Ashton stans would immediately disavow Taliesin of having any understanding of the character a la how the DA devs obviously have no understanding of Solas (a character they wrote) because they made him a villain.

Anyway, you don't have to post or respond if you don't want to. Just wanted to vent to someone who understands the frustration, being in both fandoms, and how annoying it is to see this approach to interacting with media, but, if you have the time: what do you think draws this type of fan in? What about both these stories appeals to them? Why do they inspire such strong feelings?

Hi anon,

Re everything pre final paragraph, agreed. I mean, we've already seen this re: Taliesin saying, repeatedly, in character and out, that Molly is dead and Kingsley is a separate person and this is very much his intention, and people ignoring that. They may not disavow Taliesin but if they don't, they'll either decide secret messages are being sent to them via Morse code blinks or that others in the cast made him do it, or attack other fans who have absolutely no control over this.

I started writing out a very long and in-depth answer to what draws this fan in/why they like these stories, but I think it comes down to something much more simple. It’s not confined to Veilguard nor Campaign 3 by any means, but it certainly does exist there: To quote @burr-ell in conversation, “too many people want RPG to mean ‘im the specialest birthday boy and god's favorite princess and if you're mean to me i get to blow the whole building up’ and not like, playing a role in a game.” 

We are also very specifically talking about the responses to these works on Tumblr, and there is a specific culture here of "our modern world is uniquely awful and my life is harder than that of a medieval serf [it’s not] therefore the only valid response to bring about a better world is drastic and often violent complete destruction of the status quo without any interrogation of what specifically to keep and what to destroy [it’s not], but because anything less than perfect and rapid action is problematic [it’s not], doing things is bad [it's not], so I balance eternally in a space of miserably doing nothing and telling myself I am virtuous for doing so [they’re not]." It’s a uniquely ignorant, ahistoric, self-absorbed, and utterly ineffective mindset for achieving any material goals in the real world, which I do think is why they are so drawn to fictional options, where they can briefly escape this entirely self-imposed powerlessness without having to like, work on themselves as a person.

This leads to this idea that agency is something that only the most privileged have, so if you have agency, you are privileged and therefore bad unless you use it to prop up their belief that they're the most special birthday boy. And finally I think the immersive nature of RPGs attract people who really want to sink into and over-identify with a character, though again that’s not exclusive to fantasy nor RPGs.

And so: the world needs drastic change, but change has to come with someone with agency, which can only be the domain of privilege (old white man) but maybe a little bit other (elf) so that he Gets It. But he would have stuck to the Status Quo [which in this case is specifically the Veil and the Gods but not like. Other problems, because Status Quo is what these people use to mean Big Impossible Problem That Only The Specialest Birthday Boys Who Never Did Anything Else Before In Their Life Can Solve and not like. Tevene slavery or Dwendalian Imperialism] had he not experienced Trauma or Manipulation. This gives him a Motivation, and also, because Trauma or Manipulation confers Total Absolution by removing Personal Agency But Permitting Action, he is never to be questioned in his goals [Until it’s Critical Role Campaign 3 episode 119 and you realize with the sickening crunch of the single cell of your brain falling to the base of your skull that your pure as driven snow agencyless yet still battling the gods babies Bells Hells have suppressed the story of Aeor for apparently no effect other than to almost get Liliana killed; have just stopped Ludinus; done what he was going to do anyway, and come up with another answer after the gods gave them a bunch of presents and now suddenly they are such good people for saving the gods (that they themselves put at risk, because to not put them at risk is to perpetuate the status quo, and the gods are bad because Bells Hells specifically are not treated by the gods as their favorite princesses except they definitely are, at least compared to the common people whom they don’t talk to, and also the good thing to do about bad people is to suppress the story of what you think their crimes are; anyway how dare the people of Vasselheim not weep with gratitude and kiss their feet when Bells Hells point a nuke at their lives' purpose. Extremely rude of them.)]

In short a lot of people project onto/identify very strongly with a character or characters whom the narrative, deliberately (Veilguard) or who the fuck knows the intent (C3) portrays as selfish and entrenched in their own pain to the point that they see pain inflicted on others as not just a necessary evil in the pursuit of their goals, but also their birthright to relish in, as the specialest birthday boy who was denied this. And if you as a viewer are like huh! Solas (or Ashton, or Laudna, or Imogen) is being an asshole, then first off, you are DENYING THEM THEIR BIRTHRIGHT, OPPRESSOR and second off you are PERSONALLY ATTACKING THE TUMBLR USER WHO IDENTIFIES WITH THEM and therefore you are EVIL and ATTACKS ON YOU ARE JUSTIFIED and thus they can feel like they are tearing down the status quo of evil bnfs [arbitrary term for people who sometimes maintag a coherent argument these fans do not like that gets more notes than their post did] because they will never, ever, do anything in real life other than uphold the status quo through inaction and an inability to care about other people, and post online about how revolutionary they are while better people actually do the work.

[away-ward]

I think if Damon was THE villain until the end, the series would have been better. It would start with him being pissed off "that the guys chose Rika over him" and then at the end, he would have to choose between revenge or his friends. Like imagine if in Killswitch he redeemed himself, and start his relationship with Winter, but in the shadows, he was actually still plotting. No one suspects anything, maybe not even the reader.

It's also really funny that Damon is a textbook incel and in highschool Damon would've been an Andrew Tate stan.

Do you think the guys had specific types when it comes to girls they're attracted to ?

Also, I think you would like Rina Kent's books (If you never read them you should start with the Royal Elite School series)

I think their “type” was the only woman who caught their attention. It’s hard to determine because according to the story, they could get any girl they wanted and every girl wanted them (as is the case with book boyfriend out there), but did they have a preference of girl?

Michael liked blondes, but in any regard they’d have to be Attractive. I don't believe he was concerned with spending any time talking to them, so he didn’t particularly care if they were funny or smart or interesting, just if they could consent. This would exclude girls who got too drunk or couldn’t handle the party. He hated drugs, so no one that got high off of anything stronger than weed. No quiet or weird girls who would be a lot of work. Working for it isn't something he was interested in. He would probably be careful of girls who seemed like they were available, but in actually wanted more from him (like a relationship), but this might have been a lesson he had to learn. I think he would be annoyed if he were lining up a girl and she backed out last second. He’d considered it lost night.

Kai is harder. He liked the private rooms at clubs, showing that he can be just as loose as the other guys, just more private about it. Chloe was an actual girlfriend and not just a repeat hook-up, so even as a teenager, he didn't avoid commitment. He's picky, more with character than appearance, though he has high standards for both. Chole was a leggy blonde, but she was also an overachiever and scholar. It's important the people he spends time with can actually hold a conversation, so they'd have to have a working brain, even if it's just for the night. Kai also enjoys the chase, so he'd prefer a girl that wasn't too available, but made him work for it. Banks might have been different, in this regard, that she toyed with him first.

Damon's type is Winter. The end.

But for real, Damon had warped views when it came to sex and relationships that he needed to get over. For most of high school, it was all about what they could do for him, or what he could do to them, so preference wasn't considered. If there was no ulterior motive on the docket for the night, I think he preferred it when the girl shut up and took everything he gave her, and then hated herself a little for it afterward. As long as it's not Arion and the like, Damon didn't think too hard about getting off with a girl.

Publicly, Will liked the girly-girls in make-up and short skirts. The confident girls who probably got in the middle of the action, who wanted attention on them. Who welcomed his attention. After chasing Emory around all day, he'd probably want someone who didn't take a lot of effort or act put out when he smiled at them. Like Michael, he wasn't interested in a lot of deep conversation, but he was nice and tried to keep the mood up. He didn't care if the girl was smart or had a single brain cell, but I think he preferred a girl who was funny or at least quick witted. Nothing was required for him, though. At the end of the night, he wanted to have a good time with a warm body. Still, when the moment came, he made sure not to disappoint. As Alex said, he put in the work.

Is this what you meant??? Let me know.

I have discussed how I wished Damon’s villain and redemption arc had carried out through to the end of the series, but I’ve never thought about him attempting to betray them a second time. That’s a very interesting idea.

And it’s a really good idea to have him have to choose between his revenge and his friends, if at the end of Nightfall when we think all the guys are on the same side and their inter-personal problems have been resolved so that only their external problems remain, and then Damon pulls off his figurative mask like “Hello! I’m still evil!” That would be funny. But also interesting if after Trevor died, Damon started working with Evans to pull this off, and then he had to make the final decision: does he go with Evans or Michael, or forget the Crists' all together and try to take Thunder Bay for himself?

I don’t know if I would have called him an incel. He seems to have preference for women who are passionate and fight for themselves, instead of ones who are submissive and only follow the orders of a man. He may have acted like that’s what he wanted in high school, but I think he always knew that he hated the demure and submissive girls. It's why he never went after Arion. Maybe my definition is wrong.

And I have tried a few of Rina Kent’s books; started mostly, finished some. But I can’t remember which ones. I want to say the one I finished* is from her newer series, which was the descendants from her earlier two series??? I could also be getting her confused with another author though. Sorry. I’ll see if I can find the chance to list the authors/series I’ve touched base with to satisfy some curiosity. Though, I promise I won’t be able to discuss any of those the way I discuss DN. I just don’t have any thoughts after I close the cover. DN really is an anomaly for me.

Thanks for your patience in me getting back to you! Hope you're having a good day, wherever you are.

*or got close to finishing; with books like these, I usually end up DNFing as soon as the third act breakup starts or whatever it is that’s going to cause them to separate. Unless it’s really interesting. As far as I’m concerned, they’re in love and I’m happy to move on.

[yarrayora]

I have never watched a full episode of steven universe (only listened to the songs) and only know that people have issue with the show's treatment of its antagonists through hearsay.

I'm assuming because heroes and villains actually exist as 'legal terms' in bnha that any lens to critique steven universe or any show that involves the antagonist being redeemed is even more polarised?

100%

the system in bnha universe doesnt believe in rehabilitative justice, the idea of giving villains second chances are frowned upon because heroes are, as you said, superpowered idols

and there is no force in the world more powerful than stans who refuse to admit that their idols can be wrong

speaking of which because heroes are the face of crimefighting, cops aren't really treated with respect by the populace and at best being considered a first responder at worst being treated as background npcs

it's no longer a tempting job for people who want to abuse their authority. why be another one of the nameless grunts when you can be the man of the hour in cape?

of course it's a lot harder to make it big as a hero than as a cop, since you have to stand out as an individual than as part of the uniforms

[gorgeousklaystels]

my opinion on stelena <3

i started shipping them when i once saw a clip of their first meeting in the hallway and then in the graveyard on youtube, and this was a few years ago, but i remember looking at their chemistry and thinking, "damn, they're cute" but then i saw someone in the comments saying, "can't believe she ends up with damon" and i fr went, "wait... she *doesn't* end up with this guy?" (bcz they gave me such ENDGAME vibes idk why) and that's when i got into it.

my thoughts are simple, i've gone through a longgg journey with this show, especially on how i feel about different characters, but one thing that's never wavered is my love for stelena. because, their chemistry, their dynamic, their belief in each other, their love for each other all just screamed EPIC and SOULMATISM. and i will die on this hill that he was her real soulmate and the better brother for her. the way delena stans like to say that delena is just the ship that you can't not ship is how i feel about stelena. imo, they are PERFECT for each other. i could write a whole book on how and why that's why i think that.

what makes me happy about SE is their unrelenting faith in each other. and how they make each other fight harder than anyone else can. they're each other's anchors. even when they're broken up, this sheer belief of stefan in elena and elena's in stefan to push each other to be the best versions of themselves is so beautiful, ugh. stelena had gone through a brutal time as a couple in s4 and yet, stefan was the one that helped her calm down when she turned on her humanity. because he understood her, even better than damon (i daresay). stefan literally told elena he didn't want to see her or be with her after she tore up half the country looking for him, and STILL, she was the one that prodded him, pleaded with him to let her in, to fight for his humanity, and when he had, begged him to not act so stoic, because he didn't have to with her. when he trusted her to bring her back in s6 when he was turning off his humanity. ugh, your honour, i love them <3.

i would say stefan dying but just the idea that they were not endgame makes me DIABOLICAL. so yeah, stefan and elena not being endgame haunts me...

ooo, there's a lot of things, tbh. i think when, in a fanfic, they villainize elena or they don't use the love triangle factor as well. or when they make damon a side character who falls in love with someone else. while, that's fine after a while / EVENTUALLY after some time, because i hate damon, i think it kind of takes away from the whole point of their characters, and when it feels out of character, it's kind of hard to believe i'm reading about those characters. the entire point of stefan/elena/damon's love triangle is that they're both DEVOTEDLY in love with her and after a while, elena becomes confused on who to choose...

kind of gave my answer alr, but yes, i like it when nobody is villainized (even damon) because they're all complex characters, so i like when they keep the love triangle situation and actually EXPLORE it, with, like i said, elena being confused, but her in the end, realizing she's in love w stefan. so alternatively speaking, i wanna see elena silently PINING for stefan (and she has no idea) but caring for damon and thinking she has feelings for him, and i like seeing a jealous!stefan, i'm going to be honest, because we didn't get enough of that in the show... stefan just silently watching delena with sadness but also bitterness. i also look for fics that are based post s4 or post s5 (seeing stefan being jealous and still in love with her, and elena not realizing that she's falling for stefan again??? sign me up) because i like seeing how they're going to mend stelena (which is what i wanted to see on the show ofc) as a COUPLE, while also acknowledging elena had feelings for damon but they could neverr compete w/ her feelings for stefan, which was a concept tvd originally started with, but veered away from along the way (julie plec, WHEN I CATCH YOU).

i'm gonna be fr, i don't ship them with anyone else, but if i had to pick, elena with damon and stefan with... alright, i hate steroline, but yeah, probably caroline LMAOOO.

okay, now i know a lot of people love the "human dreams" ending for them, for obvious reasons, & while i agree, i think i like the idea of elena liking vampirism (which she did, canonically) and actually not changing ALL THAT much when she turned (i'd argue she was fine after season 4 but the writers definitely messed up her writing to quite an extent) and stelena being together "forever", like stefan said MORE than the idea of them living a normal life. but that's just me, lol. so, yes, my ideal stelena ending is stefan and elena running through the woods together as vampires and just being all the more happy and fun because their emotions are heightened and just enjoying life for eternity... together.

i think they switch, definitely, because stefan's a soft boy who needs love sometimes, but i do think he's the big spoon and elena's the little spoon, idk simply because i see the way they hug each other and just how enveloped she becomes in his arms every time. and i do think stefan revels and is brought comfort by giving comfort, especially to elena. with her, he's home. same goes for elena.

hmmm, interestingggg, i think their favourite non-sexual activity is maybe, play-fighting with each other, like we saw in s4, orrr, i wanna say, probably bonding over classics together because that's where their relationship kind of started, orrr stefan cooks and elena watches, everyone's favourite scenes of theirs.

as per @piperslovebot 's request (love u, babe <33), here's my 001 for stelena, i'll put up my klayley one soon!

001 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

when I started shipping it if I did:

my thoughts:

What makes me happy about them:

What makes me sad about them:

things done in fanfic that annoys me:

things I look for in fanfic:

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

My happily ever after for them:

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

OR

002 | Give me a character & I will tell you

How I feel about this character: 

All the people I ship romantically with this character: 

My non-romantic OTP for this character: 

My unpopular opinion about this character: 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

my OTP:

my cross over ship:

a headcanon fact:

OR

003 | send me 5 characters and I will rank them in order of preference