#this is one reason why

[unattainablesillygoose]

Abandonment must be a family trait. Malcolm (later Peter Pan) was sold to a blacksmith by his father. Pan later abandoned Rumplestiltskin for eternal youth. Rumple then abandoned Baelfire (later called Neal) for magic and power. Neal abandoned Emma, and subsequently Henry, to allow her to fulfill her destiny. Henry was probably the first one of his line to not abandon his child. Talk about generational trauma 💀

[kedreeva]

Following the author of The Last Unicorn on Facebook is the only thing that makes being on that site worthwhile.

(source)

[soapbbox]

A Quintesson attack leaves Megatron in need of repairs.

Let’s pretend this takes place early where Megatron isn’t incredibly paranoid about back stabbing (Starscream) yet

[eydilily]

gem n joel the strongest duo (family) that you are

and of course. her

[gibbearish]

love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking

[kodasea]

Son of Gondor

[hinamie]

10 years later

[chloesimaginationthings]

Decades of jealousy in FNAF for Montgomery gator

[bastardlybonkers]

bumblebee is really good at controlling his body language! unfortunately he is Not good at controlling body language he didnt know existed

[krysmcscience]

I have some questions about karaoke night, Alex Hirsch. Very Important Questions. Which I will happily scream at a poor hapless baby triangle who can have no answers for me, and possibly also does not have object permanence yet.

Follow-up that is I guess suggestive, but let's be real here, Bill's a fucking triangle:

Dude slipped right into his birthday suit, lmao

this is so stupid :D

Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, this brilliant individual knows what's up - Bill is absolutely way more of a monsterfucker than Ford could or ever will be, full stop.

[blakbonnet]

as i grow older and age in fandom especially, i have waning patience for 2012 style fandom wars. i don't have time for the type of person who goes "why is this the 2nd top ship on ao3 when it bugs me", i don't have the energy to be friends with people who go "i specifically expressed dislike for this ship and people still write it?" and i have absolutely no time for someone who goes "this very personal trauma i have projected onto this random character and ship should be recognized and agreed by everyone else, otherwise they're bad people"

[technically-human]

First meeting

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

you mean nothing to me

[muffinlance]

Consider: Post-canon Zuko wakes up in the body of his childhood self, the morning of That War Meeting. Would he still speak against the plans, knowing his fate? What do you think he would do differently the second time around?

"Turned away at the doors, Zuzu?"

"Shut up, Azula," her brother sulked. But sulked weirdly, after staring at her too long and too wide-eyed, not like she'd surprised him but--

But like he hadn't expected her to be there. At all.

He turned away. ...He turned back. "Hey, Lala? Do you think you could help me practice that one set?"

He didn't meet her eyes.

She narrowed hers. "Which set?"

"The one I'm bad at."

She scoffed. Pushed away from the wall she'd been leaning against. "That's all of them, Dum-Dum."

He didn't shout or stomp or yell about the nickname. His lips twitched.

"It's okay," he said. "If you're afraid you won't be a better teacher that my instructor..."

It was the most obvious manipulation ever.

Perhaps if he proved an adequate firebending student, she'd work on his courtly survival skills next. Honestly, it was good that not even Uncle Gets-Cousins-Killed had been fool enough to take Zuko into that war meeting. She could only imagine how terribly that could have gone.

"Keep up," she said, and turned her steps towards the training grounds.

He did. There, and during the katas she ran him through.

Azula kept her eyes narrowed.

"Hey," he asked, "do you know how to bend lightning yet?"

As if he could have missed it, if she'd been able to get more than sparks. "I will soon," she said.

"You will," he agreed, and flowed through his next set. The one she'd only just mastered.

Father didn't notice how weird Zuzu was being. Uncle never noticed anything. Zuko ate dinner and asked a servant for seconds and didn't stutter or flinch or lose his appetite when father asked, coolly, what he'd done with his day. Azula's shoulders tensed, because one mention of how she'd squandered her own training time teaching him--

"Azula hogged the training grounds. For hours," Zuzu scowled, exactly like a petulant thirteen year old.

Exactly like he hadn't been acting all day.

By the time Father was looking her way, Azula had her usual smirk in place. "I'm sure there would be room for both of us," she said, "you're not afraid of a little friendly fire, are you, brother?"

Zuko sulked. And ate his seconds, like he was enjoying each bite. There was something in his eyes, like a joke no one else was getting.

---

Father died that night. A heart attack. There were the faintest of burns to either side of the treacherous organ; the royal physician hypothesized that he'd grabbed at his chest, fingers burning hot in his final moments; so hot they'd only exacerbated the problem.

The royal physician would never have been brought any victims of lighting strikes. Those that occurred in the capital did not generally require a doctor in the aftermath.

Zuzu ate a hearty breakfast.

He didn't order seconds. Azula gave him points, at least, for not being tacky.

---

The sages named Iroh as regent.

They named Zuko as Fire Lord.

"No," the tiny Fire Lord in his perfectly miniaturized Fire Lord robes said, sitting at the head of his war council. "We're not doing that. And I'll be reviewing all recent battle plans, as well. What's this I hear about a division of new recruits being deployed to the front?"

He did not mention how he'd heard of the 41st Division. No one asked.

"Prince Iroh, surely--" one of the generals tried to appeal.

The young Fire Lord's regent was looking as startled as the rest of them, for a moment. Then he sipped his tea, and smiled.

"Your Fire Lord is correct, of course. A change in our leadership--a change the other nations may mistakenly view as weakness--will necessitate a change in our strategy."

"Now," said their lord, "what, exactly, is our overall objective in this war?"

War, the new Fire Lord decreed, was not an end unto itself.

---

The new Fire Lord continued to have time, to pretend to be trained by her. Azula watched him. Adjusted her footwork. Did not tolerate, and was not offered, any commentary on who was teaching who.

"What did you do with my brother?" she asked, as they flowed from one set to the next. As her hands, poised to throw fire, just so happened to be pointed his way.

He missed a step. It didn't look like an act.

"I'm, uh. Right here?"

She didn't bother to dignify that.

He didn't bother to look worried about her hands, one movement off from a true attack.

He looked around, then grabbed her sleeve, and tugged her further from any walls that may hide ears. The royal family's private training grounds were wonderfully large, and wonderfully open.

"It's me," he said. "It's still me. Just. More of me? Longer of me?"

She narrowed her eyes. A familiar expression, by this point. "Explain."

"...I found the Avatar," he said. "And this is definitely his fault, but--but I guess it started at a war meeting, when I was thirteen."

Azula listened. It was a very Dum-Dum story.

[prlssprfctn]

Jason, who is constantly making death jokes, and gets back a "dgaf" kind of answers from his siblings. Which he is... used to. Firstly, because it is what siblings supposed to do, be mean to each other, and secondly, because... they are not wrong. His death didn't mean anything. No one cared much about him dying. Yes, they were bothered that he died - a kid, a son and a brother, had died. Everyone mourns dead kids, he wasn't special. Right?

So, he is fine with whatever he gets from his brothers. He often laughs back, even his laughter sounds far too strained to his ears. But, honestly, whatever! It is fine!

Until once, it isn't.

Maybe it is just a bad day. Or maybe his death anniversary is getting closer, and he gets more anxious. Nonetheless, he makes another joke - something about warehouses and crowbars; so, nothing new - and gets a usual funny-snappy reply back, something along the lines And no one cared. And he just huffs, his smile turning to a scowl, and before he can take it back, he shrugs.

'I know.'

Suddenly, it is too quiet in the room. And suddenly everyone is staring - confused, hurt, slightly surprised, even. Jason tries to laugh it off, to make them stop looking at him with so much pity, but his forced laughter sounds too much like a certain clown's in his insane, tired mind, and he ends up murmuring a haste farewell, before practically running away from the cave.

He thinks someone tries to call him back, but he ignores it.

The defeating silence and the looks of pity haunt him in his dreams for the rest of the night.

[humming-fly]

He was feeling left out

and the higher rez stills, since gifs always export as if you're sending messages through a metal can~