Maybe this is a controversial take (it shouldn’t be, its in the text) but.

People really need to come to terms with the fact that Edward ‘loves a good maim‘, ‘made some poor bloke eat his own toes for a laugh’, ‘thoroughly enjoyed whippies/yardies/turtle vs crab/Calico Jack’s Whole Deal’, ‘Blackbeard always wins and I don’t even have to try and I’m bored of that’, ‘first instinct is to go for the gun’, ‘gouged an eye out of some lad’s skull and called it an anecdote’, ‘set a ship on fire with people still inside and called it a technicality’, ‘capable of becoming the Kraken’ Teach enjoys violence. (No moral judgements here, violence is rarely taken seriously by the narrative and he’s literally a pirate)

On the flip side: Israel ‘flashy sword work without so much as scratching Stede’, ‘concerned about the loss of lives of the Queen Anne’s crew’, ‘offers a quick death for Stede to Edward’, ‘loser is banished from the ship’, ‘negotiated for only Stede to be killed despite the rest of the pirates on the ship’, ‘takes away rations instead of flogging for insubordination’, ‘wants Blackbeard because people don’t fight Blackbeard’ Hands does not, actually, enjoy violence. He puts on a lot of bluster but ultimately everything he does is meant to keep himself (and Edward) safe, which requires a reputation for violence but necessitates a lack of actual serious violence (for the sake of violence at least).

Ed likes violence because its enrichment for his perpetually under-stimulated ADHD mind, he is the tiger with the meat pumpkin. Izzy doesn’t like violence because he just wants to survive and its so much harder to do that if you’re getting in needless fights.

I don’t necessarily agree that Izzy is a cut and dry masochist, it might be the only way he knows how to connect (intricate rituals and all that) but I don’t think its something he’d go for first if he knew there were other options that were safe to want (its why he’s so perplexed by Lucius, who has the connections without the violence), but even if you do think he is: its a different kind of violence. Its not violence for the sake of violence. Its an exchange of trust. ‘I trust you to hurt me but not to harm me.’

Idk I feel like I’m always repeating myself in my meta posts lmao, but like. I can’t just not say something and let people continue to be wrong about fictional characters on the internet can I? lmfao That’d be awful.

I don't even know what you can say to the people who somehow missed that all of Ed's violence is a) anti-imperial, b) protective against direct repeated threats to himself and his loved ones, or c) self-destructive in the hopes someone will respond by killing him during his suicidal spiral. (That last example is fairly indirect and performative and comes from a place of severe nihilistic suffering.)

I don't know what you can say to the people who somehow missed that the violence is triggering and traumatic and exhausting for Ed, and that he is desperate for a chance to live differently but has also never known any other life. Stede gave him the one true glimpse he's had of something gentler! Ed didn't fully know how fucked up his life was before because that was normal to him. That's what growing up traumatized does to you.

I don't know what you can say to the people who somehow missed that the suicidal spiral is a result of Ed's circumstances: of Ed being threatened by Izzy after Izzy repeatedly found ways to force Ed back towards the violent life Ed wants so much to escape, of Ed losing his one glimpse at safety and happiness through Stede and now having to face the darkness knowing he nearly found something different, of Ed feeling like the only way he can survive in this world is by being an "unlovable" monster he hates--and then he's confronted by Izzy telling him he's still not getting it right. Of course Ed gives up then.

I don't know what you can say to the people who somehow missed the show's themes about how much harm is caused by toxic masculinity and by masking your true self and by cultures founded on trauma and self-hate and burnout. (You do see the burnout in Ed, yeah?)

I do get why some people might not understand the complexities of Ed's relationship with Izzy--how codependent and enmeshed their identities are--or the layers of symbolism that position Izzy in the story as a metaphor for traditional pirate culture and its harmful impact. (Which is particularly triggering for Ed on a daddy issues level because that's his original trauma.) If you understand those things, the unique nature of the physical harm Ed does to Izzy in this story makes even more sense.

Ed also frequently communicates through metaphor himself. Him cutting off Izzy's toes is not only a show trying to convince Izzy he's playing Blackbeard right and not only a response to Izzy repeatedly threatening Stede/continuing to threaten Ed, but also is meant to physically represent the harm that Izzy has done emotionally to Ed. Ed is communicating to Izzy the only way he knows how anymore: "See how it feels to be forced to lose parts of yourself? Stede was a part of me. My hopes of softness and joy were a part of me. You cut those off too."

There is so much evidence against the thought that Ed is some irredemable, monstrous lover of violence who will hurt Stede someday. Stede would have to repeatedly and directly threaten someone else Ed loves first (which Stede won't do), and even then, Ed would really have to fight with himself.

It's not his nature, y'all, and I'm so frustrated that some people keep insisting it is. I'm frustrated about what that says about people's ability to empathize and consider reasons for or contexts behind behaviors--particularly when the character in question is an openly queer and likely neurodivergent indigenous man. Is it so hard to have compassion and forgiveness for him? Please don't get stuck in that punitive, dehumanizing mindset.

Redemption is so important, which is why I appreciate that Izzy gets a growth arc once he stops centering his entire identity on the Blackbeard persona and clinging to toxic masculinity. (Seeing Stede's impact, how different things could be, vs. the harm caused by the traditional ways, changes Izzy too!) Izzy's time, as a side character and mentor figure and piracy metaphor, does end, but first he gets to live with more meaning and unlearn many of the negative behaviors. That's the goal, right? To move forward.

People who say Stede doesn't care about the crew in season 2 or is uniquely careless with them in season 2 compared to season 1 baffle me.

Stede in season 1 can be thoughtless and a little selfish, and often is! But that's tempered by genuine care and a desire to be kind to others as well. Small but pertinent example from season 1? The petrified orange.

Stede outright SAYS he didn't want to give it up, but he still offered it to Jim without hesitation, because he felt it was right as it came from their childhood home. I don't think him admitting he didn't want to give it up after they gave it back undermines that, either. If anything, he did something he REALLY DIDN'T WANT TO DO in an attempt to be fair and kind to a member of his crew.

There are a ton of examples like this throughout season 1, where Stede is oblivious to others' needs or feelings until he isn't, until he makes the conscious effort to stop and think and choose to exercise care.

And season 2 shows that this is still very true of Stede. If anything, he puts his needs aside MORE often and faster, with even less hesitation than he did in season 1. Especially when it really matters.

If he didn't care, would Stede have gone straight to Zheng Yi Sao to ask for mercy for the crew's mutiny against Ed? Would he have postponed allowing himself to grieve for Ed in order to RESCUE the very people he thought had killed him?

Like...we moved past that little fact SO fast because of the merman of it all, but genuinely. Let that sink in a bit. STEDE THOUGHT ED'S CREW HAD VIOLENTLY MURDERED HIM. And he still cared enough to see that they were acting out of desperation, and offered no recriminations or condemnation even when Izzy literally asked him for it. He put his grief on hold and came up with a plan to help them all escape execution.

He was also initially willing to go along with exiling Ed from the ship to make the crew feel safe! Even though he clearly didn't want to, at all. All season, all he wanted was Ed back, and yet he put the crew's needs first again. He only asked them to reconsider once he realized Ed would be sleeping alone in the woods, and worked with Ed to make sure all their stipulations were met when they agreed.

He is literally the ONLY person to express direct and obvious concern about Izzy's drinking all season, even when he and Izzy still weren't on the best of terms. He went to Izzy for help becoming a better pirate captain, and I genuinely think that was as much for the crew as it was for Stede himself. After his talk with Ed about how he could repair some of the damage he'd done, Stede immediately sought out someone he thought could help him overcome his own inadequacies and avoid doing more damage there.

He also got rid of the suit despite not believing it was cursed, just to make the crew feel better. He encouraged Ed to find ways to be helpful and rebuild trust with the crew. Convinced him to go along with Calypso's Birthday to help the crew de-stress and have some fun. When he killed Ned Low his first stated reason for that, what was it? "You tortured my crew."

(And his last was "you fucked Calypso's birthday," which we know he knows was just an excuse for the crew to have some fun.)

How does anyone watch all that and think Stede doesn't CARE enough?!

Thinking of others before himself may not be his first instinct all the time, but whose is? And in his case, how the hell would it be? When you've spent your entire life--prior to the last few months at most--never being thought of and being mocked or rejected for your every attempt at reaching out to other people, is it any surprise you'd withdraw into yourself and stop bothering?

So it isn't a skill Stede has built, and it isn't something that comes naturally to him, but it's still one he makes an effort to use. It may not be his first instinct, but it's still what he DOES when he stops and thinks about his actions. That's so important! He cares! On purpose!

An Argument Against Stede Dissociating In Episode 9

personally i dislike the idea that Stede returned to Barbados and the Bonnet estate in a dissociative haze because i think it subtracts from the narrative in a way that allowing instead for 'stede made his decision consciously, while seriously impacted by being retraumatized' does not. i say that for two reasons:

stede's narrative arc gets wonky, lacking proper parallel to let him confront his decisions and their impact

if we take episode 9 from a place of, stede, having been retraumatized not only in the form of witnessing a man die (this time, truly independent of stede's actions because i would argue that stede did in fact murder nigel, even if in a second degree sense, but chauncey being drunk and tripping into shooting himself is genuinely stede *actually* just being nearby when he died which - these writers! this writing! aaaargh!!!) but also in having all of his worst fears and insecurities struck with pinpoint accuracy RIGHT before, chooses to return home and leave ed behind because he thinks it will be better for him -

what we get from that is stede *making his great mistake again*. stede leaving ed becomes true and proper parallels to stede leaving mary and the children, becomes stede running from his family to run towards a family, all over again, it becomes an actual cycle that stede has to break, rather than a one and done event.

if stede is in a full dissociative episode when he goes back to the Bonnet Estate, then he doesn't make a conscious choice, he doesn't choose to go back to his old place and his old life and consign himself (and his family) to the misery of an angry man in your house, he's just a victim of chauncey badminton and all the people like him who hurt stede.

and that makes the narrative bad.

because what the narrative does with stede by having him make this choice is it forces him to confront possibly his greatest flaw - the selfishness inherent to that kind of deep self-loathing, where you completely dismiss the feelings and thoughts of other people because you are so convinced that you and you alone properly know what those other people need and want and that you can make decisions on their behalf because you are so uniquely specially different that no one else can understand you and if they think otherwise they are wrong and lying and foolish - by making him repeat his abandonment.

by making us sit in ed's anguish at being abandoned, we are forced to imagine *mary and the children's* anguish at being abandoned. at having stede uproot their lives without so much as a word of warning. it invites us to see that what stede did might have been good for him and necessary for him to achieve happiness, but the hows of what he did made it cowardly and corrosive.

when stede is actively making a choice, even one influenced heavily by trauma and self-loathing, the narrative is telling us - through the action and the fallout - that ghosting people fucking sucks. that running away from your problems will only bring them right back to you, worse than they were originally.

that the only way out is through.

that wherever you go, there you are, still stuck with yourself.

and i like that narrative, actually.

2. it makes stede a passive participant in this break up with ed, which makes the whole thing unbalanced

the other reason i dislike the whole, stede just dissociated all the way home thing is that, it makes the whole thing unbalanced. like i mentioned earlier, it means that stede is essentially just a victim in this situation, without agency as a character. it means him going home is just one more thing chauncey badminton did to stede, and it makes it so that him thrusting himself back into his family's lives is as much something violent that's happened to HIM as it is something violent that's happened to THEM.

and i really don't think that's what the narrative is going for.

stede going home forces his family, who have already dealt with the harm of his abandonment, the emotional violence of his careless disregard for their feelings and his place in their lives (do you ever think about how stede wrote to mary, but not his children. how mary felt about having to deliver all of the news to her two small children, that their father had abandoned them to pursue his own happiness, because he could not be happy as a part of their lives?), the social violence of being associated with a known criminal, to live through it again.

to have the wound torn open. to have him once again disregard their wants and feelings in favor of once again pursuing emotional satisfaction - this time, the emotional satisfaction of hurt, because make no mistake, stede is not trying to be happy when he returns home. he is not trying to find peace. he is hurting himself, and he graduates to hurting mary, being passive aggressive and pointed in and snide, because he is miserable with his choice and wants her to be miserable.

(i will never stop thinking about how he says if he can give up the sea, surely she can give up 'dishonest' title - surely if he can give up his beloved life, she should have to give up hers.)

the narrative is making a point that stede makes these unilateral decisions and they have direct impacts on other people's lives and it uses the hurt that stede's abandonment causes ed - the grief, the misery, the drowning - to once again show that stede's actions have consequences. his choices have consequences.

if the narrative were instead writing that stede *didn't* make a choice, he *didn't* leave ed, he was a victim of circumstance and trauma and never ever wanted or intended to leave ed -

then he's really just set dressing, and it will put ed in a position where, unlike mary, he can't even have the full emotional satisfaction of confronting stede, because stede's response will be, i was a victim, i didn't mean to, i hurt you but it was an accident -

and that fucking sucks. that would fucking suck. it happens in real life, it's true, but i think it would weaken the narrative substantially if we see that ed is held to account for the people he hurt, which he should be, but stede is off the hook for it, really, because he just had no choice, he was a passive participant in his own life. stede actively making these choices means that when stede actively undos them, when he completes the fuckery and goes back to sea,

if stede made his choice, even under partial duress of trauma, then the narrative is taking strong, decisive turns, and showing a coherent narrative - that stede's life has had this pattern, his behavior has had this pattern, and he is finally breaking the pattern. he succumbed to his worst self and worst habits, but overcame.

his dissociating adds nothing to the narrative beyond making stede a victim who didn't get to actively participate in the decision that blew up his life.

ooohhh, maybe a fic where reader is a pirate too, the captain of their own ship? maybe they had an agreement not to fight with blackbeard and even be allies, but they just heard about the toe thing and now izzy has to hold them back so they don't violently dismember ed, lol

I'll Kill Him:

As soon as the ship came into sight, Izzy recognise it. Its flag was raised high and proud, making sure it couldn't be missed.

"Should we get the captains?" Oluwande asked, frowning slightly. The ship was definitely approaching them but who would risk raiding a ship that flew Blackbeard's flag.

"They won't attack us, prepare to let them board," Izzy sighed, already feeling the migraine coming on.

"...seriously?" Normally Izzy wouldn't be so lenient with one of Bonnet's crew questioning him but the concern was fair if they didn't know better.

"They're old allies. Just do it," was all the information Izzy gave.

"And the Captains?"

"...wait for now..."

Izzy watched from the quarterdeck as the ships lined up, a friendly approach considering a canon hadn't been fired. He watched as you boarded the ship, shaking his head. A captain shouldn't board another ship alone but your arrangement with Blackbeard was an unique one.

The majority of your crew, including your stony first mate, stood at the railing of your ship, watching. Waiting to see if their assistance would be required. They understood the peace between you and the other captain but you had sought out the Revenge in a rage, making them wonder if it still stood.

You assessed the crew with a stern expression, figuring out what to make of them. Izzy waited to see what conclusion you came to.

"You," you pointed to Lucius, who scrambled over and stood to attention. He could be a right twat but he wasn't stupid. "Where is your captain?"

"Uh...which one?" the scribe asked nervously, hoping you wouldn't think he was being difficult on purpose.

You frowned a little before putting the pieces together. So, that part of the rumours was true...

"...he took him back?!" you snapped in disbelief.

"Uh...I guess you want Captain Teach?" Lucius decided not to get into Stede's return.

That was when a familiar voice called your name, saving the scribe from your wrath. Though, all of the anger fell away from your face when you turned to see Izzy approaching you, a grin on your face instead.

"There you are!" you approached like an old friend, arms held out at your sides, "thought you weren't going to welcome me aboard for a minute."

Izzy grumbled as you pulled him into a hug. He didn't resist but he didn't wrap his arms around you either. Had to uphold his reputation at least a little after all.

You were still smiling when you stepped back. At least, you were until your gaze dropped to the cane he clutched. Instantly grimacing at the fire raging behind your eyes once again.

Of course, you were disgusted by his weakness. The cane being a dead give away of what, he was sure, you had already heard rumours about. He refused to hang his head in shame.

"Fucking Blackbeard," you muttered through your teeth before turning away from him. "Edward fucking Teach!" you called, the same shout you would use when taunting an enemy to fight you, "get your arse out here!"

The crew quickly when from cautiously curious to completely stunned. They had taken part in their fair share of raids now and couldn't believe you would address the fearsome Blackbeard in such a way, even if they had come to know him as Edward now. They had also had a taste of him at his worst.

Thankfully, you didn't have to storm into the captain's cabin because the two captains soon came running out to see what was going on.

"Uh, who are you?" Bonnet asked with a small frown, unsure whether this would be another Calico Jack incident. Should he be welcoming a friend of Edward's or shooing them away before they can do any damage.

"Seriously, Edward? Everything that happened and you're co-captaining again?" you asked, sounding almost disappointed in him but your anger was more prominent.

"Not that it's any of your business but we have talked all of that out," Bonnet huffed defensively.

"Does he speak for you now?" you raised an eyebrow. You weren't here to speak with the Gentleman Pirate after all.

"Of course not," Edward sighed, rolling his eyes at you. "What are you doing here?" he would have greeted you with more excitement, if you hadn't come here with obviously hostile intentions.

"I had hoped the stories Jackie told me were just rumours, imagine my surprise when I decide to visit and find your first mate needing a cane just to walk across the deck," you glared the pirate captain down.

"Y/n," Izzy sighed, shaking his head, "that's why you're here?"

"That's why-of course that's why I'm here!" you spun back round to face the first mate. Did he really think you wouldn't have something to say about all the nonsense that happened over the last few months? "Seriously, Izzy, I told you that you should have accepted my offer years ago," you sighed, thinking about how this whole thing could have been avoided.

"So, that's why your here," Edward scoffed, "trying to poach my first mate. I thought we settled this."

You faced Edward again with another harsh glare. "We settled it until you fucking mutilated him!"

"It's more complicated than that," Izzy insisted, coming up by your side.

"What? Eddie had his feelings hurt so had to dismember you?" you knew you were taunting him, pushing all the right buttons, but you didn't care.

"Fuck you," Edward spat, Stede sharing his sentiment.

"Well, that sounds enough like a challenge for me," you smirked, unsheathing your sword with a little flare.

With a smirk of his own, Edward accepted by drawing his own sword. "Edward...is this necessary?" Bonnet asked, eyeing the other ship nervously. The crew wasn't exactly prepared for a raid and you seemed like you meant business.

"Stand down. Both of you," Izzy demanded, even if he had no authority over either of you.

"I'm the Captain, Iz," Edward reminded him without taking his eyes off of you.

"And a Captain only lives if his crew allows it, you should know that," you reminded him, threat clear in your words. "How many mutiny attempts has our dear Mister Hands put down?" you asked, earning a glare from Edward as he stepped forward.

The crew watched on intently, honestly a little excited to see the two captains duel.

Your smirk grew as you approached him, sword firmly in your hand.

"Enough," Izzy grabbed your arm, jerking you to a halt, before demanding, "Bonnet, make yourself useful."

Stede got the hint and hurried over to Edward, holding him back and trying to dissuade him. He wasn't the biggest fan of Izzy but if he thought this duel would be a bad idea, he was probably right about something.

"You should let me fucking kill him," you seethed, addressing Izzy but glaring at Edward. "But I'm feeling forgiving, so I'm thinking I might only take a foot," your smile was twisted, sadistic if Izzy hadn't known any better. But he did know better.

You always had been protective over those you called friends, even back on Hornigold's ship.

"I don't need you fighting for my honour or some shit," Izzy scoffed.

"Are we fighting or not?" Edward asked, his glare nearly as cruel as yours.

"Oh we're fucking fight, you bastard," you lunged towards Blackbeard, only to have Izzy catch you and hold you back.

"This is ridiculous!"

But what broke out next was an even more ridiculous scene.

Edward stood seething beside Stede as you spat vitriol at him, making all sorts of threats, each one Izzy was certain you would follow through on if he released you. Each one worse then the last.

You fought against Izzy's hold, occasionally slipping loose but only to be pulled back by the first mate.

"Izzy, get their ass off my ship," Edward ordered. "Or our agreement is off the table," he settled a heavy glare on you. Threatening you like you weren't the one to track him down with the intention of dismembering him.

"Fuck your agreement, Edward. If you want fight, fucking do it," you tried to tug out of Izzy's hold, but to no avail.

"Off my ship. Now," Edward snarled before letting Stede pull him back into the captain's cabin.

In an instant you spun around to face Izzy, the speed and force of your movement causing him to stumble back. Thankfully, you caught him by the arm before he could lose his balance. He used to have impressive balance, helped make him such an impressive fighter, but you were certain his missing toe had impacted that.

"You should let me gut the fucker," you insisted.

"Obviously, I can't let you do that," Izzy rolled his eyes.

"He cut off your damn toe, Izzy," you said, as if he needed reminding.

Izzy huffed, shifting as he became aware of the number of eyes on him. "Can we talk about this somewhere else?" he asked.

"Fine," you sighed, knowing this was a private conversation.

You didn't speak as you followed Izzy down to his cabin, ignoring the rest of the crew.

"He took your toe, Iz," again, he really didn't need to be reminded, but you said it anyway once the door was closed. There was another part of the rumour, more speculation than usual, some people believed it some people didn't. However, knowing how impulsive Edward could sometimes be, you couldn't rule it out. "Did...is it true, that he made you eat it?" you asked.

Izzy glanced at you before sitting down on the edge of his cot with a heavy sigh, "yeah."

A beat of silence.

"Can I see it?"

"It's not-"

"Please, Iz."

Izzy looked up at you for a moment before nodding. He knew that you just needed to see the proof, wanted to see how bad the damage was, you weren't enjoying this anymore than he was.

You just watched as Izzy removed his boot and unwrapped his bandages. Neither of you spoke as you knelt down in front of him, lifting his injured foot into your lap. Cradling it.

Izzy bit back his complaints that as captain shouldn't be kneeling for somebody else but you weren't a pirate captain right now, were you? No, you were his friend. Somebody who cared about him. You always had, hadn't you?

Instead, he just watched as you examined the injury. You were well experienced in controlling your facial expressions, but he still caught the sadness in your eyes.

"It looks like it healed alright. Did it get infected?" you asked quietly.

"Yeah...Roach managed to salvage it before I had to lose another toe," Izzy answered honestly.

"And you're still here..." you thought out loud before looking up at him. "You know I admire your loyalty, I always have, but...I can't help but think it may be misplaced."

"I threatened my Captain, he punished me. Any other captain would have killed me," Izzy insisted, it sounding a little like a script, like this has been what he's been telling himself since it happened.

"But Edward isn't just your Captain, he's suppose to be your friend. You've known each other for decades," you reminded him, "even Jack was speechless when he heard, and he normally finds this type of shit hilarious."

"You saw Calico?" Izzy asked but wasn't too surprised. Of course the bastard wasn't dead, maybe nothing could kill that cockroach.

"Oh yeah, drinking his sorrows down in Jackie's. Until she kicked him out, of course," you nodded.

"Useless bastard," Izzy grumbled, earning a small smile from you before you glanced back down at his foot.

"...does it still hurt?" you asked.

Izzy sighed. He had hoped you had forgotten about his foot, even if it was still in your lap. "Yeah, sometimes," he admitted, "most of the time. On bad days it goes right up to my hip."

"When it hurts, you take care of it by yourself?"

"Obviously," he huffed, no real bite to it.

"Ed doesn't help?" You felt like you already knew the answer.

"Don't think he knows how bad it can get. Thinks I'm just down a toe," he explained.

You carefully placed his foot down and stood before joining him on the cot, sitting close enough that your thigh touched his.

"I'll kill him," you whispered, more so to yourself than to Izzy.

"You and Ed have been friends for nearly as long as I've known him. You'd kill him because he took my toe?" Izzy asked, like he didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it.

"Don't act like you don't already know that," you sighed, the way you looked at him stealing the breath from Izzy's lungs. Yeah, he did know that. "You know I would, Iz. When I heard about what happened, I demanded that Jackie told me where the Revenge was last sighted. Had to come see if the rumours were true, and if they were...I had to kill or dismember Edward," you told him as if it were nothing, just a simple fact of life. For you, it was.

"I don't understand you," Izzy sighed, staring down at his lap.

"Oh c'mon, you know I've always sweet on you. Never tried to hide it," you nudged your shoulder against his, your words coming easy and with no shame. Just another fact.

You were sweet on him.

You cared for him.

You would kill Edward for him.

"Never understood that either," Izzy confessed.

You loved him.

And he lov-

"I'm going to ask again," you warned him.

"Please, don't," Izzy pleaded, bracing himself.

"Come with me, sail with me. Be my first mate. Fuck it, if Blackbeard can co-captain, so can I. Be my first mate or be my co-captain. Just come with me," you took his hand in yours, holding it in your lap.

Izzy at least did the decent thing at met your gaze as you spoke. As you pleaded with him to leave with you. As you silently promised to take care of him.

"I can't."

"You can," your thumb brushed over his palm, making him shiver, "and you should."

"I can't."

"I won't stop asking." Another simple fact of life.

You wouldn't stop asking.

You wouldn't give up on him.

"I know," Izzy found himself smiling slightly.

"And if Ed thinks he can make me leave this ship before I'm ready to go, he's obviously forgotten who I am," you huffed. You weren't leaving until you were ready, until you said everything you wanted to say.

"As stubborn as he is," Izzy agreed with a small nod, making you chuckle.

You just watched him for a moment. The slightest smile on his face, the pain in his eyes mixed with...something else.

"Fuck, Iz," suddenly feeling an intense wave of sympathy, you practically threw yourself at him. Arms circled around his neck as you embraced him.

"Wha-"

"Shut up," you mumbled into his shoulder.

And he did. Izzy let out a shaky breath before slowly returning your embrace, giving up his weak attempt at resisting and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

"I don't care what you did, Izzy. If I were here, I wouldn't have let him hurt you, would have killed him if he tried. I don't even care if he was justified, people don't hurt my Israel and get away with it," you spoke into his hair, fingers running through his hair.

"I'm not your anything," he reminded you. Still, he tightened his hold on you.

"Not from lack of trying," you retorted. His grip tightened further.

"Are you going to kill him?" Izzy asked after a short silence, knowing that the two of you couldn't stay down here forever.

"...no. Only because I know it would hurt you," you conceded, pulling away from the embrace, cupping his neck in your hands, touch gentle and caressing. "But I am going to be having a word with him," you told him, using that tone that told him there was no point arguing.

He was looking at you in that way he did sometimes. Reverently. Like you were God's gift.

"My offer will always stand. If you ever decide to leave, there will always be a place for you with me," you promised him, running your thumb along his jaw. Izzy lent into the soft touch.

You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue as you watched him, deciding to take the chance. You closed the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips to his. Izzy didn't hesitate for a moment, like he had been expecting it, hoping for it. He didn't deny himself this one thing, desperately melting into you instead.

It wasn't the first kiss the two of you had shared during your time knowing each other but it had been so long that it felt like the first. And for the first time Izzy truly knew you would do anything for him. It only made this whole thing that much more difficult.

You weren't sure how much time had passed by the time you and Izzy remerged back onto the deck, but you didn't really care. Still ignoring the tense crew, you marched right over to the Captains' cabin

You didn't know, you just let yourself in. Edward could earn your respect back another day.

"I thought I told you-" Edward was up from his seat in an instant, glaring and pointing at you.

"Shut it, Teach," you rolled your eyes. To your surprise, he actually went silent. His glare remained. "You ordered me to leave but since when did I ever listen to you?"

"So, did you steal my first mate?" Edward asked bitterly, as if Izzy wasn't standing right beside you.

"Nah, he turned me down once again," you shrugged, trying not to lash out at Edward's smug look. "He should have accepted my offer, any sane man would, but it's always been Blackbeard and First Mate Hands, right?" you added.

"And always will be," Edward reminded you.

"Until you decide you've changed your mind," you agreed.

"What are you implying?" Edward growled.

"I'm not implying anything, and I'll get out of your hair, but one more thing..."

"Which is?"

You stepped up to Edward until you were only inches away from him, holding his gaze with no fear. Izzy watched you, hoping his awe didn't show on his face. Stede anxiously glanced between you both, wondering if he should step in.

"If you ever lay a hand on him again, I will kill you, Edward. I don't care what he does, I don't care if he kills half the crew, if you so much as slap him, I will kill you. Right in front of your crew," you threatened. Edward had known you long enough to know when your threats were real. This one certainly was.

"Now, I don't-" Stede began to protest but you didn't give him a chance.

"And you," you practically growled, pointing at Stede accusingly. "If you ever leave or hurt Edward again, I will track you down and kill you," your threat had the blond widening his eyes and going speechless.

"Do you both understand?" you asked, looking between them both.

"Yes," Stede nodded. Of course, he had no plans on hurting or leaving Edward ever again, so it would be an easy promise to keep.

"You've always been a protective friend," Edward recalled, almost fondly.

"Yeah. Just don't forget that my loyalties lie more with Izzy than they do you," you warned.

"You never let me forget it," Edward rolled his eyes.

Deciding that this conversation was over, you nodded and turned back to Izzy. "Remember what I said. No matter what, there's a place for you. Always will be."

"I know," Izzy nodded. And he really did, which made it all the more painful.

You sighed but accepted the answer before leaving the cabin, Izzy following after you. If Edward didn't like that, he could tell him about it later.

You didn't care if the crew was around, you gave Izzy one last hug before you returned to your ship, greeted by your diligent first mate before they shouted to raise the anchor.

On either ship, you and Izzy stood at the railing. Focused on nothing but each other, watching the distance between you both expand once again.

I don't know who you were talking about so I could be wrong, but I think that those "people who talk about Ed stans like they're a problem" most likely are not referring to all the people who like/love Ed but specifically to those you talk about in the post that in order to discredit Izzy at all costs they only see him as someone who exists to further Ed and Stede's character development. Apart from that, this way to see "non protagonist" characters sadden me… If they weren't also important why do Jenkins spent time on Jim's story, on Lucius and the others? Just to fill and make the episodes longer?? D:

I disagree with people who think "ed stans" are a problem in the fandom, especially when people think they're an equivalent problem to the canyon. no they're not. there is at least one guy on """my side""" of things that I find really annoying, and I've definitely seen takes from other people out in the open (aka not in the canyon) that I don't like. but you cannot call the issues equal.

first of all, I've never seen "ed stans" the way izzy people talk about them. granted, I don't go into the tags. I can't say I've seen everything. but like, if you have 2 groups, and the 2 groups don't like each other, they tend to exaggerate and make up shit about the other group to continue the antagonizing relationship. ngl I've seen it on """my side""" too. I have seen some canyon takes first-hand. I'll occasionally scroll down their blogs out of curiosity. there's varying levels of canyon-ness. and people on """my side""" have sometimes exaggerated things or made it out to be that everyone in the canyon thinks this versus it just being one dumb fuck's take. we see the canyon as a monolith but it really isn't, same way we aren't a monolith. anyways, long story short, you cannot call these two groups equally bad because of the canyon's obvious racism problem. this was just a long-winded way of getting to the fact that izzy stans and the canyon have a racism problem.

I'm not saying """my side""" is perfect, nor am I the person to discuss that in depth because I am not a person of color. I'm just saying that the canyon is continuing to perpetuate racist tropes in fic and art after literal years of fans of color discussing how these things are racist. stede and/or izzy having to teach ed how to bathe/take care of his hair immediately comes to mind, for example. writing ed as uniquely violent, and responding to feeling threatened with gratuitous violence instead of hiding and curling up into a ball. continuing to reference slavery in their fics.

why don't "ed stans" talk about how ed did bad shit more? because the canyon won't shut the fuck up about it! I think having a frank and productive discussion surrounding ed's actions in 2x01-2x02, as well as a bit of 1x10 is impossible in any sort of public space, and could only happen in a private discord server. I don't think there's anyone who seriously believes ed did nothing he had to apologize for. he did do horrible things. he did have to earn the crew's trust back. the show did really, really rush through it due to The Shortening. but we don't talk about it because we're too busy trying to counter canyon takes.

I do agree with you on that last bit. I am not inclined to view any sentient character in any story merely as a plot device for the protagonist(s). it's just not a method of literary analysis that I particularly jive with. symbolism is cool, and obviously it should be discussed, but at the end of the day, I view characters as people within their own universe, not objects within their own universe, regardless of their importance to the narrative. take jack, for example. one of the most plot-devicey characters in the show. but I still prefer to, and find it more interesting to, see him as a person within the world of the show rather, than a plot device puppet. my point with the post was I see people arguing that izzy's side-characterness makes him less of a person inside the world of the show than stede and ed, but never ever apply that line of thinking to any other side character, and I find it reactionary and hypocritical. now, if you view all the side characters as plot devices, then you're being consistent, and while I don't agree with you, I don't particularly care, and I think that's fine.

Dear @abihasablog,

Happy Festivus! Today's your @squealing-santa day. I'm so honored to have been assigned to you this year. Please enjoy this Steddyhands fic. Lee Stede, of course.

Also, please forgive my complete ineptitude with anything to do with *actually* using this website.

ao3 link:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/52440493

Warning: Izzy describes some rather violent acts in conversation, but the acts never happen.

"A Dose of Reason"

Word Count: 3596

Word Count Fact: 3596 is not prime, nor is it square free. There is a unique non-cyclic Abelian group of order 3596.

“Hey, Ed, I wanted your opinion on something,” whined Stede in an abandoned attempt to catch his breath.

“Hmmn?” replied Edward, jingling his bell as he turned his neck to face the captain.

“It’s about Izzy. Was I too harsh on him?”

“What?”

“Our confrontation today. You must have overheard it down there.”

“I-”

“And?” asked Stede, his panic only growing.

“Is that what his yelling was? I couldn’t quite tell what he said to you.” Edward cracked his wrists and folded his hands, now fully turning his body to face Stede.

“I was more worried about what I said to him to set him off like that.”

“Well, for starters, I didn’t even hear it. Given the history of my leadership style, that should tell you everything I think about whatever it was you did.”

“Ed! I’m really upset right now. Words can hurt our feelings, even if spoken softly, remember?” Edward sighed in reluctant agreement.

“You know what? I’ll go have a chat with him.”

“Be subtle,” Stede requested through a shaky voice. Edward smiled back at him, figuring he was just being his usual self and overblowing whatever it was.

“I will. He’ll think I was concerned about his yelling, and he’ll think I was surprised to learn it was you that set him off.”

“You really mean that? You think you can pull it off?”

“I do. I’ll come and find you in about a half hour.”

“Thank you, Ed.”

“Mmn,” nodded Edward brightly as he made haste to go and find Izzy.

“The hell do you want?” Izzy groaned at Edward. He kept his gaze out and unfocused on the southern horizon. Edward only moved closer to him, eventually sitting next to him. “On with it or fuck right off! You know what? Why don’t you just do that and save us both the trouble.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t yelling a bigger storm than usual a little bit ago. I could almost make out what you were saying.”

“Fucking Bonnet! Fucking twat Bonnet!” sprayed Izzy in a coarse tone that somehow made every syllable irate and plosive. A small dribble of saliva landed on his chin, which he harshly brushed away with his knuckles in a closed fist. 

“Captain got you pent up again?” Edward again pried.

“Why don’t you just fuck off and save us the trouble?” Izzy reiterated. Edward stood up in place but did not move, staring at Izzy to bait him into saying something, anything, he could take back to Stede. Eventually Izzy looked up and their eyes met. “Fine, if you’re gonna try and piss me off like this I might as well get pissed.”

“Go ahead, Izzy.”

“Fuck off!” he snapped. “Sometimes I just wanna get ahold of Bonnet and fucking destroy him. Fingers and teeth and blood everywhere. And then sew them back on and do it again. And again and again. Fucking twat! With his fucking feelings. And being right about everything. I ought to fucking kick him or something. Just to see him powerless and without some fucking retort. Hell, I’d even tickle the man if it made him cry.”

“What did he say?” Edward asked suddenly, attempting to mask how he perked up at that last sentence. He was on a mission from the captain, after all, and a secret one at that.

“He told me how I’m such a miserable twat. I mean, he didn’t say it like that. Gugh, I should have told him to fuck off!”

“You did, seven times,” Edward interrupted. Izzy chuckled a bit, but neither man could tell if it was at Edward’s comment or simply a component of the larger exasperated and very angry demeanor on display. Izzy continued, basically ignoring Edward.

“He just told me how I should remember it’s okay to talk about my feelings. How it’s not healthy to keep everything bottled up. About how I’ve been through a lot. About how he cares. The fucking nerve on that fucking Bonnet! Laying it on thick like he’s got it all figured out. I wish he’d figure out how to send himself straight the fucking fuck to fucking hell!” Izzy stopped yelling and let himself sink all the way down onto the deck, staring up at the clouded sky.

“At least you recognize he’s right. Not to sound like I’m on his side or whatever, but maybe there’s a way to work through some of what you said.”

“But you do just sound just like the man. You’re fucking whipped, mate. You even wear a little kitty collar for him.”

“That’s not what that’s for and you know it! And so long as we both know he’s right, we might as well figure something out. I’m going to be honest, I think we should help you make Stede cry a little if that’s your thing.”

“Said like you’ve truly given up on yourself yet again,” Izzy snided. Edward sighed.

“I’m going to go talk to Stede to try and make anyone better during all of this. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Fuck you, Edward,” said Izzy, “and thanks. Thanks a lot.” He sat up and faced the open ocean again, waiting for Edward to leave and go find Stede.

As Edward reentered the room, he found Stede in about the most awkward seating position imaginable. He seemed to be staring at the ceiling, chipper from the clavicle up and a twitchy disaster everywhere below that. Stede snapped around to greet him wordlessly, straightening his posture and wincing in preparation to hear the worst. Edward knew better than to frame a conversation as anything other than what Stede wanted or expected.

“He said you laid it on pretty thick. He’s an absolute mess but deep down he understands why you are the way that you are. But he’s really mad about it.”

“That’s great! Maybe he’ll want to talk it through!” Edward only sighed at Stede’s optimism. It was cute. Futile against a berserking Izzy Hands, but very cute.

“Never, I’m afraid. At least not at first with this one. Listen, uhm, I need you to let him tickle you to tears so he doesn’t dismember you in your sleep or turn your teeth into flour.”

“Well, that’s quite an interesting analysis. He sounds very angry. Perhaps what he’s after is some casual discussion. A dose of reason, to quell his inner-”

“Reason, eh? Is that what you conspiring fucks want to call it?” spat Izzy from some nearby stairs.

“I was only trying to get him to take the tickling option so there’s less blood for me and the crew to clean up,” offered Edward in his own defense.

“Fuck the both of yous!”

“Izzy, try to understand what it is I’m seeking here,” pleaded Stede. Izzy only scoffed and advanced toward him. Stede backed himself against a shelf where Izzy towered beneath him. Stede would never turn the confrontation physical. And Izzy wasn’t about to just lay hands on the captain without any preamble.

“I don’t care what you want, Bonnet. This ship may be yours, but you are an idiot too weak to do anything but bend at the command of your fucking feelings. It makes me sick as hell. And I just wish I could show you the only feeling that matters in the pirate world. Helplessness. Suffering. The sharp and ruthless imbalance of power. Something a rich boy like you can never truly earn a worthwhile perspective on.” Stede winced at Izzy’s words, recoiling in his head as a haunting vision from his childhood took over. The spatter of blood. Everywhere that life has taken him from then on. Back to the present moment where his jaw gaped and he had no idea how to redirect Izzy’s anger with the power of words and heartfelt connection anymore. It felt too deep. Too real.

“You really want to show me how bad it’s supposed to hurt to be alive, don’t you, Mr. Hands?”

“For as long as it takes to shatter that flaccid and privileged skull of yours.”

“Don’t do this,” a sullen Edward suggested. Izzy saw the disappointment in his eyes. It got to him, which felt like a victory for Stede. That stung, and only angered him further. He tried his best to play it off, backing away from Stede and pacing about the immediate area.

“You should know I would never touch my Captain without permission to do so. Let alone all of that blood and guts stuff, tempting as it may be.”

“But you mentioned tickling, though, didn’t you? At least, Ed made it sound like you did. That might actually be quite fun. Edward loves to make me laugh. I’d imagine I’m very fun.”

“This isn’t about fun, Bonnet. It’s a matter of principle is all. But that explains why Ed shifted his posture at my little joke earlier. Fond memories of your intimacies or something?”

“Well, that’s,” started Ed, beet red and wishing he would wake up in Stede’s bed to spare himself the lasting reality of the sudden flash of embarrassment. He looked to Stede, as if beckoning for permission. That permission came with a nod.  “Yeah,” he shrugged, hanging his head and closing his eyes for a moment. Stede came to his rescue.

“The truth is, I actually quite like it,” he confessed with a proud smile. His tone was flat and dull, but he at least managed a confident enough pull at the corners of his mouth that went well with the rosy complexion that was starting to take up residence in his cheeks.

“You fucking would, Bonnet. Of all people and of all things.” Izzy paused in his paces to turn and face Stede. He contemplated his next words carefully, adjusting his posture and tone accordingly before moving just a couple steps closer to Stede. “You know what? That actually sounds kind of cute. I’m still gonna make your kittenthing here help me make you cry, but what do we say we try and make peace by taking one out of both our playbook with a little tickle scene?”

“Right here?” Stede asked.

“And right now,” Izzy smirked. “What do you say?” Stede looked to Edward, who nodded him on.

“Alright,” shook Stede. “I guess we’ll go and make this happen, then.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” barked Izzy as he lunged at the captain, grabbing his sides and pressing him back into the shelf. “This business gets taken care of right here and right now. The cat either watches or joins me. Your call.”

“Please don’t make me watch, Stede, if you think you can handle it,” Edward said shyly.

“Of course you can join in, Ed,” Stede gushed, looking past Izzy. He then turned his attention back to Izzy. “Happy to be here for whatever you may need.”

“Happy fucking Bonnet, eh? That’s where your trouble began. That smile. That Bonnet fucking smile.”

“Would it be better if I frowned?” Stede demonstrated, and Izzy did not react. “Perhaps something more neutral, a bit stoic with hints of fear?” Stede tried on a second face, and Izzy had had enough of his antics. Wordlessly, he started tickling Stede hard and fast. Stede was far too distracted by his face making to see it coming. “I actually quite think my noseahahahaha! Ihihi g-guess-”

“What?” Izzy teased with a roar.

“Guess you wehent with a smihihile!” Stede screamed. He turned his neck to face away, not that it would really matter when his ribs and stomach were the center of attention and his eyes were bolted shut. 

Izzy quickly made room for Edward, and with two men holding him there Stede was just about locked in place. He tried to sink to the floor, but Izzy and Edward only followed him there. He sat with legs outstretched and T-Rex arms barely positioning his elbows in self defense. He remained surprisingly still, a dead giveaway he was having a wonderful time, even if he was being quite fussy.

“He usually stay this still for you?” asked Izzy, adjusting his position to kneel on Stede’s leg and facing Edward more fully.

“Always. Deep down, it’s like he said. He really does love it.”

“All the noise he’s making you just almost couldn’t tell. Listen to him roar like a little bitch.”

“I know. Isn’t he cute?” 

Izzy crowed a big belly laugh in reply to Edward’s question, turning back to his original position and moving his hands upward. He noticed Edward moving around the side of Stede, but didn’t try to intentionally take that into account. He was determined to figure Stede out on his own, and he didn’t want to get too distracted from eating up Stede’s reactions to make that happen. Stede was essentially a giggly puddle at the mercy of four spidering, digging, prodding, and clawing hands, and Izzy studied his every squirm and plea with devotion.

“Ohohohoho I’m actually the cutest!” exclaimed Stede, his smile only widening as he fell to the side away from Edward and started rolling away from the wall. He made his way onto his stomach without the necessary momentum to turn any further, so he stopped in place. Edward knelt between him and the wall, Izzy next to him on his other side. Stede shook his head from side to side but said nothing.

Wordlessly, Edward stared for Izzy’s attention, eventually locking eyes with him. They paused for a moment, letting Stede catch his breath. Motioning with his eyes, Edward got Izzy to focus his visual attention on Stede’s shoulders. Edward hovered a hand above Stede’s left shoulder and waited for Izzy to figure out what to do with his right. Bobbing their heads, they counted silently to three and started up again together.

“Wahahahait!” cried Stede. He kicked his legs and huffed and puffed until Edward and Izzy stopped again just a few seconds later. There was a brief silence.

“Stede?” Edward asked flatly. Stede pursed his lips but did not immediately say anything.

“Captain?” tried Izzy, being met with more silence.

“Stede, you need to tell us what’s wrong.”

“Oh, uhm, well,” the captain began. He pushed himself with a wrist onto his side and fell onto his back. His face looked its absolute reddest.

“Your face is red, Captain,” observed Izzy, “and we haven’t even done anything severe yet. You need to call it quits or something?”

“Well, no,” Stede admitted, “I’m actually fine. That was just so unexpectedly coordinated and sudden and intense. It was actually quite-”

“Do you want us to keep going?” Edward pressed, cutting him off.

“That would be splendid, thank you.”

“Arms out, then,” Izzy ordered. Stede obeyed. “And take it with pride,” he added. He leaned over and pinned Stede’s wrist with one of his own, putting plenty of weight on it. Edward mirrored him, and with Stede pinned beneath them both they started again.

Stede immediately closed his eyes and threw his head all the way back. Edward and Izzy paused at the thudding sound it made with the floor, but a sharply giggled okay from Stede had them resuming as quickly as the thud had dissipated. He laughed and strained his arms, but they would not budge from beneath those of his comrades.

“Damn ihihihit!” he squealed, “this is a mohohost unusual position to beheheehe in!”

“Mine too, be sure,” sighed Lucius. Izzy paid him no attention, but Edward looked up at him and cocked his gaze. Lowing his tone, Lucius spoke to Edward directly. “I’m just gonna,” he trailed off, shaking an open-palmed hand in the direction of the nearby stairs and shrinking his posture. With an ugly, forced smile he stepped over Stede and made himself gone, perhaps about to go tell someone what he saw. Perhaps not.

Edward turned back to Stede, who didn’t seem to notice the presence of his scribe. His eyes were still shut with a stupidly giddy smile spread across his entire face. Stede was really having a time with his two ticklers. Edward took his hands away for a moment. With his left hand, he caressed Stede’s cheek. Stede opened his eyes and looked at him.

“You’re doing so good right now,” Edward scruffed. Stede smiled.

“I think he can manage a little better for longer,” Izzy insinuated. Stede’s smile turned to fear, to panic, to arousal, and back to a bigger smile, a bead of sweat making its way down the side of his face.

“Only if he’s up to it.” Edward was firm.

“Please,” said Stede. His voice was soft and whiny, as if there was no thought in the world worse than having to leave his ticklish predicament behind.

“See? He wants us to push him to be good, isn’t that right, boy?” Izzy cooed.

“Yes! Goodness, Izzy, fuck!” Stede sputtered. He couldn’t manage much more than that, instead grimacing silently as if to invite the tickling to resume.

Edward immediately started up again. He kept one hand on Stede’s adorable face. This time firmer, as if to keep his gaze fixed on Izzy. His other hand started to explore Stede’s stomach with a walking tap, probing a minefield of spots and watching Stede’s face. He walked his hand higher and higher with his arm until he was almost to Stede’s chest, where he saw an inviting twitch in Stede’s neck. He stopped his hand there and rotated it slightly, pinching at about that height along Stede’s side.

Stede thrashed in place as Edward did so, and he screamed. He screamed as if there was no thought in the world worse than staying in his ticklish predicament. But a signal in the back of his mind forced him to pause and realize he liked it. He only cried out for the torment to continue.

Izzy kept his hands in Stede’s armpits. He had a lot of fun with lighter techniques while Edward did his thing with his sides. Stede managed to stay still enough to keep his arms most of the way outstretched on his own. Izzy drummed his fingers up and down the soft, taut patches of skin, occasionally stopping to blow on Stede’s neck or scratch the exposed piece of his shoulder with his beard. 

“Thahahahat’s a little fohohorward of you,” suggested Stede as Izzy’s beard and breath lingered longer and longer there as the minutes snowballed by.

“Nonsense, Captain, I’m on a mission with this little game,” deflected Izzy. Stede just kept on laughing, but Izzy finally convinced him to open his eyes. Immediate eye contact. “There you are, boy. How do you feel?”

“Nehehevahar bett-ter!” struggled Stede, maintaining eye contact but blinking rapidly at the flood of sensation as Izzy changed his technique to mirror Edward’s death spot squeezes on the other side.

“Tell me how you really feel. Don’t hold yourself back,” Izzy commanded.

“Ehehehed,” laughed Stede.

“Hmmn?” Edward growled with a moderately horny squint back at the captain.

“I’m feheeling quihihite aroused,” reported Stede matter-of-factly, save for the peals of ticklish laughter trying their best to interrupt him. Edward leaned in and kissed Stede, letting go with his tickling hand and straddling Stede more fully.

His leg came to rest on Izzy’s hand, which his old first mate quickly retracted. Stede seemed to quickly shake a relaxation through his body, but hesitated before lowering his shoulders. Izzy wondered whether it was some kind of signal or not.

“Uh, Captain, you need something there?” Izzy asked shyly.

Edward’s mouth stole whatever reply Stede seemed to have no mind to attempt to formulate. They kept kissing there. It was clear their love was just as passionate as it had ever been. Izzy started to understand why these two had done the things they had done to themselves for one another. He wondered if he should start applauding their milestones and loosen up around the ship. He started to get the sense that the tickling scene was over, even if he figured he failed to make his larger point.

“Guess I’ll leave you lovebirds to it, then. I’m not ready to get that involved with a couple of pervert freaks that outrank me.” Izzy paused, trying to find more words. “Well, the captain and his kitten,” he clarified. “You’re cute with that bell, Edward,” he said under his breath, rolling his eyes a bit. With that, he started to walk away, back to his usual place. He traversed some stairs and a couple of corners. He was almost there.

Turning another corner, Izzy felt he was finally far enough away. He stopped for a moment to listen for nearby speech or footsteps. He sat and faced the ocean by himself, solitary in the position where Edward found him earlier in the day. And he let his guard down. Nobody had to know the effect his little torture scene had on him, and so he decided to let it show just a bit. The experience he just created for himself, it wasn’t another laceration of blackness across his wizened heart. It was pure and fun and joyful and a little arousing. 

He took a deep breath in through his nose, and he let it out through a big smile. A picture of Edward straddling Stede formed in his head. He rotated the picture before turning on time, inserting himself in the fantasy image and joining Edward, adding two more hands to the fray. In his mind, he smiled at Edward and Stede there. In reality, he sat there smiling at the ocean. The sun was sinking, and his heart was calm.

Yeah, Ed, committing suicide via proxy is different than him actually killing someone in a modern AU. Of course I also believe that it's morally/ ethically OK to kill your abuser.

Very true very true. although the "serial killer" mention was because HoHW was a season 2 predictive fic where Ed went around killing blond men for the high crime of looking a bit like Stede, and he also did a bunch of other messed up shit that is in no way comparable to what happened in season 2. Nobody who criticised that fic thought he wasn't going to be a bit violent. The problem with the fic is that it was gratuitous and it didn't keep consistent with the canon characterizations of Ed not enjoying it and feeling bad about it, nor did it even entertain the idea that Ed's lashing out is at least partially the product of the fucked up pirate culture he came up in, which season 2 is laying on heavy with both Lucius's rat boy human puppet era and Felix. Ed in OFMD cannon is not a unique evil. He's literally just doing raids, which is what pirates do, it's his job, he's just doing them more than he was before. And Archie, the only character who didn't work under Stede, literally thinks it's normal until she's asked to toss treasure. That's not even getting into the Izzy characterization. Compairing season 2 to hell or high water tells me that you just hate Ed and don't care about his feelings, which if so youre a fake fan and you should probably just fuck off out of the fandom, good riddance

⚠️WARNINGS: mention of drug use, abuse (physical, mental, n emotional), heavy mental illnesses (such as ed's, paranoia, schizophrenia, etc), VERY toxic relationships between finn wolfhard n reader (reader was afab in both of these books), mention of pregnancy n losing the baby (cuz of a violent encounter)

‼️I AM TRYING TO FIND THE AUTHOR OF BOTH OF THESE WATTPAD FANFICS TO SEE WHAT ELSE THEY OFFER‼️

ok so when i was likeeee idk 13? 14? i had this HUGE obsession w finn wolfhard n ANY character he played. like, i had my friends at school completely believing that i was inna RELATIONSHIP w him n like i knew the whole stranger things cast n the IT cast.

anyways, in my whole obsession, i owned wattpad. when i would look up fanfics of finn n y/n, i would be SO invested in them.

but one day, i came upon two VERY well written fanfics like i, to this day, love the writing style.

the first fanfic is ab finn using drugs n gettin into a very, very dysfunctional relationship. winona ryder is y/n's mother, david harbour is a close friend of winona. at one point winona notices that y/n has this "glow" to her n y/n brushes it off as nothing. winona specifically called it "an after-sex glow".

winona tells david n he's like "they're kids it's bound to happen, it's in the books"

david only cares so much ab finn since finn is like some big time fuck up n he looks after him, tells him that him n y/n are "good for each other"

(i'm trying to tell y'all as much as i can to narrow down the options😭 downloading wattpad so i can find this author as i type all this)

oh n also, at the beginning, finn goes into y/n's room n sees like fairy lights n was like "cool lights". IT WAS A VERY DYSFUNCTIONAL RELATIONSHIP BUT AT MY RIPE AGE OF 13-14 I WAS EATING IT UP.

the second fic, i can't remember much of it, but it takes place in an asylum. y/n has to get fed through a tube at some point. at the end of, the nurse helps y/n n finn escape n gives them a lil house so they can live out their crazy lives.

i'm almost positive that y/n gets pregnant, finn gets found n brought back to the asylum, n then there's like a sequel.

HELP ME FIND THESE BOOKS ON WATTPAD SO I CAN FIND THE AUTHORS😭 their writing styles n topics are so unique n intriguing. shit got me hooked after the first three words.

📝 🌦️ 🛌 🙈 for the ask game !

📝: How would your story in canon go? How would you influence the events of the original story?

GLAD YOU ASKED [opening laminated folder] jk but i have thought of this a lot. there's a couple ways that i can imagine it playing out . the starred one is the "canon" one

meeting during college; i was nice to him, or i showed him to a class once, or we talked after classes while i was waiting for my next lecture to start, and he caught feelings INTENSELY and like. VERY FAST. to the point where it scares him because generally his day is like that meme that's like "wake up. distract myself. gn" but now it's like. "wake up. think about val. gn" and he leaves me cards w/ pages of notebook paper inside writing about how much he loves me and how he wants the best for me, how his day went, etc. i knew it was him because we shared a sociology course & he has a very unique handwriting. i reciprocated. it goes from there :3 *

he's my coworker and i'm nice to him once and he falls nauseatingly in love with me. i know he's the one leaving love letters and little gifts on my desk and i don't confront him about it but i definitely reciprocate his feelings and take the opportunity to tease him about it when i can. we end up getting together because i eventually do bring it up to him and tell him i feel the same. again this would probably alter the canon plot post-ktmj. i don't think i could stop him from going full panic mode after finding out his boss is Evil and Fucked Up but having someone to talk to about it who is on his side would probably keep him somewhat in check.

i find this freak hanging out in my living room after escaping from arkham and i'm really not that bothered by it because something is absolutely wrong with me /lh

🌦️: Would you be accompanied by mostly fluff or angst fanfics? Both? Explain why.

it depends: both i and edward are like. miserable little creatures just in different ways LOL. i feel like my personality lends itself better to fluff fics since i'm mad affectionate w/ a partner and his reactions to that would be cute to write. i feel like angst fics would be easier to write due to neither of us believing we're "good enough" for the relationship we want. another good angst plotline would be the whole "i cannot do anything about the fact that this dude is losing everything and absolutely losing faith in the world rapidly but i will try my best". or me leaving him because i have bouts of edgelording where i think leaving people is doing them a favor (<- mostly held in check by napping when i get the impulse but still)

🛌: What tropes show up in fics involving your ship?

bite of affection (i do this)

obsessive love letter (he does this)

one true love (double-sided)

violently protective girlfriend (me)

not-actually-unrequited love (double-sided)

undying loyalty (double-sided)

hurt/comfort or hurt no comfort lol

🙈: Why would your ship be thought of as cute/fluffy? Why would your ship be considered problematic?

could be seen as cute because of how we contrast :3 also i mentioned this a bit before as well but i am super affectionate when i'm in love w/ someone and ed is the type to be rendered like, a complete puddle when ur being nice to him even a little so experiencing someone he's insanely in love with being very mushy with him will absolutely do some cocomelon shit to this guy he'd just be sitting there like this.

2. could be considered problematic because we're both freakishly into each other like my core plotline for him n me is like, he caught intense and extreme feelings for me after i was nice to him once and started leaving me pages-long notes about how much he loved me and wanted to be with me forever and i got attached right back which is a little intense for some LOL. i can't really think of anything else except the general "omg you're in love with a batman villain why? he's evil he blew some dude up" discourse you get

I wanna talk about the Fandom idea of Izzy Hands as a “manipulator,” and common ideas around Ed “performing” Blackbeard. I’ve just been kicking around a lot of thoughts about the topic after seeing a lot of meta that feels not-quite-right to me.

First; I admire the writing in Our Flag Means Death SO MUCH. I think that it stands up really well to endless different analyses and has a lot of nuance!  So I’m not trying to say like, “all XYZ meta is wrong.” But I’m REALLY starting to balk at the popular fandom notion that Izzy is a devious manipulator and that Ed is just “performing” depending on who he’s with in order to have love and acceptance--- in a way that I feel needlessly victimizes Ed and discounts his agency and power as a character.   First of all, Izzy isn’t manipulative; he’s a blunt fucking instrument.

Which imo, is a WAY more unique angle for a character like this; we’ve all seen manipulative and ambitious "power behind the throne” characters like Jafar, Wormtongue, etc. a thousand times in media... That’s NOT Izzy and Blackbeard’s dynamic! Before Ed even meets Stede, and all throughout episode 4, it’s crystal clear that Izzy answers to Blackbeard: NEVER the other way around. Ed is clearly not intimidated or swayed by Izzy’s opinion, and he knows EXACTLY who Izzy is and how far to trust his judgement. Moreover, I don’t think we ever see Izzy even trying to be subtle or tricky, except for maybe the “Go suck eggs in Hell” scene. (and even that small attempt to “manipulate” Ed completely falls flat and backfires!) He could have tried to do away with Stede in a million different ways, but instead he challenged him outright to a duel, and screamed that Edward would “rue this day!!” as he rowed away... I think Izzy’s violent outburst and resignation in Ep. 4 show us a perfect snapshot of his and Edward’s relationship: Izzy describes how Ed has become increasingly erratic and withdrawn; “An unpleasant shell of a man POSING as Blackbeard,” who has increasingly left Izzy to do the lion’s share of leadership as a kind of over-burdened middle-manager... “But I did all that because I was HONORED to work for the legendary Blackbeard.” Think about Ed’s fake-sympathetic, mocking tone when he replies, “Sounds stressful, Izzy.” Izzy, shaking with the rage of a tiny dog, SCREAMS his resignation in Blackbeard’s face and flips him off.  And what happens? Ed looks unimpressed. He’s not threatened, or uncertain, or even angry... he doesn’t even FLINCH, for God’s sake. This is not a guy who feels he has to prove himself to anyone, LEAST of all Izzy.   At the same time, Ed is a shrewd and brilliant strategist.  He is very aware that as Blackbeard, he is on a dangerously high pedestal, and that he needs to play his cards right to keep his power... part of which is having a competent and undyingly loyal right-hand man like Izzy--- -and we see Ed play to Izzy’s pride and ambition to keep him by his side. “The crew would need a new captain of course... I need you here.” (but Ed isn’t manipulative or domineering with Izzy either... He apologizes when he’s wrong and listens to the crew’s concerns.) And on the topic of Edward: Ed is the co-lead of the show, and his entire arc is about yearning for “something more.” ”Is THIS all there is??” “...Do you ever feel trapped?” “We’re just not those kind of people, and we never will be.”  So who IS Ed? Undoubtedly he’s going through a crisis, and he’s TIRED of “being Blackbeard...” but I think it’s doing his character a disservice to act like he’s just simply “playing pretend” as Blackbeard. Ed IS Blackbeard. It’s an identity of his own making which has begun to stifle him... but it’s also not quite an “act” in the way some people talk about it. you know? Like... when we first meet Ed in Episode 4, I’m so struck by how EASY and natural he is... He’s relaxed, friendly, charming, and playful. ...this guy OWNS the room, wherever he is. If he thinks something’s cool, he doesn’t give a SHIT who sees him playing with a model ship, or admiring frilly shirts, or wearing foppish clothing. (This is nuanced too of course!! He is VERY self conscious about things that counter his “coolest, most badass guy in the room” self-image, and he LOVES to show off and to “win” social interactions) But consider how TOTALLY un-self-conscious he is playing the “switching clothes” prank in front of the entire crew.  He prances and twirls around in a frilly shirt and fancy leggings while performing a “character” and being silly and playful... and he still expects absolute respect and obedience as a matter of course.  The level of confidence is fucking unimaginable.  This is NOT a man who is insecure in his masculinity or authority.  He’s that Super Popular Guy in High School who could like, wear nail polish or like an “uncool” band, and suddenly all the super-macho, “no-homo”-yelling bullies would say “OMG me too, I think painted nails and ABBA are BADASS!!” Ed in Episode 4 is Jack Skellington; he’s unquestionably the best at what he does; a LEGEND, the real fucking deal... ...but he’s bored, disillusioned, burnt out. He wants something MORE, but he has no idea what it is, or even if it’s possible. I think the important thing here is that Ed is struggling because he CAN’T just stop being a pirate and retire, as Stede naively suggested... and he knows that he’s losing his grip, and that ONE mistake could ruin him... and almost does. He miscalculates his Fog/Full Moon gambit and nearly gets them all killed, to his shame and despair.  ”You wanted to be Blackbeard, this is what it’s like!” That is why he devises the plan to murder Stede and steal his identity. That’s why, even once he’s decided against killing Stede, he keeps trying to leave; because he KNOWS this little vacation with Stede can’t last.  Izzy is not a manipulator; he’s the voice of reality.  An incomplete and biased reality, yes, but Izzy IS telling the truth about their world, at least as he understands it.  Blackbeard CAN’T stay with Stede forever as pirates. The piece of red silk represents Ed’s lifelong yearning to break free of things that constrain him, and his hope for some unknown SOMETHING better. His mother gave him the silk to teach him that there was a natural Status Quo to the world, and that he would never break free of their life of poverty and paternal abuse... but he DID. He killed his father and became an outlaw, stealing from the rich, rejecting authority, and becoming a power unto himself.  I imagine that for a long time the power and acclaim of being Blackbeard was FREEING, exciting, and empowering... perhaps he even kept the red silk to remember: “A different life IS possible, and I’m living it!”   But now?  Blackbeard is just another box. So he tries to escape- gives up EVERYTHING... and he fails. When Ed comes back to the Revenge after his plans to run away with Stede fall through, he clothes himself entirely in red silk and continues to TRY to make his dream come true, and to find meaning and freedom... “Why are we even being pirates??? We should have a talent show!!”  Izzy’s confrontation with Edward is threatening and violent, but Edward is in charge of the interaction and easily overpowers him. Ed clearly doesn't value Izzy’s opinion or friendship for its OWN sake... ...what Izzy makes Ed realize in this scene is that his situation is hopeless. When Ed hears the crew chanting “Give us another song, Eddie!!” and stamping on the deck, it becomes clear to him that he can’t continue like this. He can’t command the crew’s respect like this, he’s in danger of losing his second-in-command, and he can’t just “stop being a pirate,” or he would have done so long ago.  The entire first season is Ed’s journey to find MEANING and meaningful change in his life... he plunges into a brave, breathless dive into the unknown, and he is broken on the rocks.  His arc ends as a tragedy.  He realizes that his dreams of “something better than this” are futile, and he lets the square of red silk float out to sea... accepting that his hopes and dreams were futile all along, and accepting that he is trapped. Izzy both pressures and threatens Ed when he gets too close to shedding the Blackbeard identity, but I think it’s important to understand that Izzy is not the CAUSE or creator of any of this.  Even Stede’s abandonment is not at the HEART of what is going on with Ed; Stede broke Ed’s heart, but JUST as much of his heartbreak is realizing that he was a fool to ever believe that he could be truly free, or that he could truly change his life... Ed’s crisis of identity and meaning is SO much bigger than any of the people in his life, and UGH, AGAIN, I’m just SO in love with the writing on this show.

can i request minho enemies to lovers ?

lee minho + smut

word count: 3.6k words

warnings; oral (both), enemies to lovers, dry humping, slight overstimulation

Lockers

“Fuck you.”

“Oh really? Well fuck you too!” you snap back at the taller male, hands closed in a tight fist.

It was one of the hundred fights you had with your high school rival. Lee Minho. Of course, each school had a unique pair, the kind who are always at each other’s throats, jabbing at each other with vulgar comments, and none of the other students know why. People assumed you both had a past, a never ending fight, a relationship gone wrong.

But in the grand case of you and Minho, there was no such misunderstanding. There was nothing in between you two, ever, and you were always at war with each other for no damn reason. And none of your friends or school mates knew why you two had fumes rising when your eyes met.

The school year had just begun a few weeks ago, and when the lockers were assigned, yours was coincidentally right next to his. Thus every morning started with gossips and tea spills throughout the school now. Just like how it was going to be, today as well.

Someone had vandalized his locker, drawing penises and other unexplainable things, and he obviously held you accountable. You had gone for a trip out to the nearby town with your parents, so hadn’t even come to school for the past week. How could you do something without even being there! You cussed at each other for a couple minutes, throwing crumpled paper and unpredictable forehead flicks at each other. That was until you slightly pushed his shoulder, which was enough to send him off-board.

“Don’t take advantage of the fact that I don’t hit girls—“

“Girls and boys, leave for classes right now!”, your headmistress’s voice boomed throughout the corridor, and all the students that had slowly gathered around the scene started to scurry away to their classes.

“Not so fast, Mr. Lee. You and y/n, my office. Now.” She gestures towards the end of the hall just as the two of you are about to leave.

You and Minho walk towards her office, giving each other death glares occasionally. Just as you reach the general waiting area, she walks past you two as if you two were completely invisible, and heads to her cabin.

“You two can sit and wait! She’ll call you in a while,” the chirpy lady squeaks out, motioning you to sit down.

You take a seat, bouncing your knee up and down. Considering there was place for two only, Minho decides to stand, as he wanted to be as far away from you. You realize and get up from your position, huffing and pointing to the now empty seat.You despised him, but you had a heart.

He sighs, slowly walking over to the couch and sitting down. After a few seconds, he sighs again, feeling bad for making you stand up.

“You don’t have to act like you’re kind. You can sit.”

Wait. Did he think you felt pity on him?

“No, it’s okay. I don’t need your orders. I’ll sit when I want to.”

So much for being kind.

“Fine! Stand.”

A few minutes pass by, and you sense the pain rising from your calves. Your ego was taking the best of you, and you huff and walk over to the congested couch, plopping down next to Minho. He grins, crossing his hands mentally celebrating his victory over you.

You start bouncing your knee again, waiting for the lady inside the cabin in front of you to call you in so that you don’t waste the whole day out here. Minho notices your moving state, and he clicks his tongue, placing a stiff hand on your thigh to stop it from moving and slowly vibrating the entire couch.

“Stop it. It’s annoying.”

You gulp and sit back, relaxing your tense muscles. Acting was hard. You couldn’t pretend that his recent action didn’t affect you. You straighten your t-shirt, fumbling around with the hem.

Just as you think your head was going to explode with all the awkward silence, the secretary walks in, all bright and smiling.

“Come in, kids. She’s calling you in.”

You and Minho get up and you let the taller male walk ahead of you. He pushes the door handle downwards and the old door creaks open, revealing your headmistress sitting on her leather chair. She motions you two to walk in, pointing at the chairs in front of her.

“So, tell me. What was happening out there.”

Minho takes a breath before starting off, but you beat him to it.

“Mrs. Ahn, you know I was out with my parents for the past week. I wasn’t in contact with anyone from the school either! And Minho, here, has the audacity to blame me for drawing… stuff, on his locker! And when I was defending myself, he pushed me—”

“She might’ve come early in the morning and done this! I promise, Mrs. Ahn, this is 100% done by this woman here. You can check today's camera footage!”

And thus, you, Minho, Mrs. Ahn and Mr. Song from the IT department were stuffed into the cabin, with the old man working his way through some files to check out that morning’s footage.

“Here it is,” he announces, hitting play.

The video, after a few skips, does reveal a tall masked man, searching for something, preferably Minho’s locker number, and just pulled out a spray can before vandalizing the school property. Mrs. Ahn gasps softly, and Minho frowns, and you immediately cross your hands, cocking your eyebrow at Minho.

“See? That’s not me.”

“It’s your brother!”

“I don’t even have a brother!—”

“Silence! Thank you Mr. Song, you may leave now. And you two. Stop bickering like small children. You are adults. Behave like it— make amends, and only then you’ll be allowed to leave.”

You both groan and get up, apologizing under your breaths before looking over at the old woman.

“That’s not enough. Give each other a hug.”

“Yeah, no, I think we’ve forgiven each other alre— oomph”

Minho grins, pulling you into a rough hug, and Mrs. Ahn laughs aloud. You push Minho away, fixing your clothes and bowing to your principal before leaving. Minho turns to the woman behind the desk, smiling warmly at her before walking away.

The rest of the day goes rather quickly (because you stayed at the office for most of it) and you call your friend to get her to drop you home, since your Dad must be exhausted from all the traveling last night.

“Hey fish head! This way!”

You groan, cursing under your breath before turning on your heels to look at Minho along with… Mrs. Ahn?

“Good Afternoon, Mrs. Ahn. I was just heading home. Anything important?”

“Yes, actually. Very important. For the past year, I’ve seen you and Minho fight endlessly, and it’s time to put this war to an end.”

You cock your head in confusion, not understanding what she had in mind.

“I want you and Minho to go out today. Just the two of you. You can think of it as a date, a study session, whatever you want. This fight has to end, and I think it’s time for us to intervene before it gets bigger, and… more violent.”

“I don’t think that’ll be something you’d have to worry about, Mrs. Ahn. Minho and I are doing just fine! You don’t have to interfere, really—”

“I wasn’t asking, y/n.”

She replies, displaying a toothy smile. She walks past you and Minho, who simply smirks at you, and she leaves before announcing, and you scowl.

“I need proof!”

Minho chuckles, walking past you as well before whispering, “Today at 6? You know where the Pearl Restaurant is, right?”

Your eyes go wide at the mention of the venue. This… dude, was going to take you to one of Korea’s top notch restaurants?

“Yeah, meet me at the café next to it. Bye!”

You stomp your feet in annoyance, walking away to your friend’s car waiting at the entrance.

—

You didn't believe yourself either, but yes; by the time it was 5, you had dressed up. and now you were lying in your bed, contemplating if you should actually go on the date and fulfill his ego, or, he could just photo-shop a picture of you and him at the restaurant and send it to Mrs. Ahn to fulfill her ego.

You decided to call Minho, if he would be accepting of your plan.

"Hey? Do you know how to use Photoshop?"

A laugh resonates from the other line, before Minho responds.

"I had that plan too, y/n. But I suddenly forgot how to start a computer at this point of time? I was going to ask you the same thing! But then I realized that you might not know what a computer is, in the first place," he laughs again, agitating you even more. "I'm surprised you had high hopes from someone you hate?"

You could hear the cockiness in his voice. You could practically imagine that he was grinning as if he had just K.O–ed you (which, no doubt, he had) and you could even hear the sass dripping out of your phone.

"Guess what! I'm freaking coming now, you asshole."

You hang up just as you finish hearing his laughter through the static line. You scream into your pillow and pray that this goes well.

Taking a cab to the cafe Minho had told you to come by, you walk across the street to see him through the glass enclosure of the small aesthetic cafe.

Minho had worn a black tee with some skinny jeans, his earphones plugged in as he tapped his foot lightly on the wooden ground. His pointy nose was hidden behind a black mask, and veiny his hands clasped his phone loosely as he waited for you.

You shudder, thinking about how you were slowly falling for him. You shake off the vague feeling before walking ahead, slowly opening the crimson coloured door. The bell above it jingles softly, and your lungs fill with the warm smell of coffee brewing in the four walls. Minho looks up at you, and he smirks behind his mask as he drinks in your beauty.

You had worn a baby blue sundress, with a silver bracelet your friend had gifted you a while ago. You smile at him and walk over to the table he was at, taking a seat on the opposite side of the booth. He pulls down his mask, enough for his plush pink lips to jut out.

"So, you came, huh?"

"Did you leave me any choice?"

He laughs and shakes his head, slyly reaching out his hand to place it on top of yours which was on the table. You cringe at the sudden wave of emotions in you. You didn't know how to react to his action. Do you not react? Or do you smile? Or wait, do you put another hand on top of his? Your mind was going haywire and was running a speed of a hundred miles a second. Thousands of thoughts run in your mind, and a few so dirty that your breathing hitched in your throat. Minho looks up at you, blank eyes staring back at you.

"You good?"

"Y–yeah. I'm great. Let's just click the picture and get over with this shit."

The waitress walks up to you two and places two menu cards between you. You pick up one, slowly flipping through the pages as your eyes scan for your favourite drink.

"Do you have any favorite kinks?"

"What?!"

"What. Do you have any favorite drinks? There's plenty here…" he trails off.

You shiver. Why was this happening! Did you start hallucinating? In front of someone you hate? Just so he could make fun of you later on?

"I think I need to use the restroom? Yeah I guess, I'll be back in a bit." you ramble, shuffling out of the seat to walk over to the washroom.

You walk inside the small washroom, quickly rushing to a sink and washing your face. You look at yourself in the mirror, fixing up your hair and breathing in and out a few times. You mentally prep yourself up for whatever you had to face outside.

After a few minutes of catching your breath and creepily talking to yourself, you walk out. But when you look up, Minho wasn't there in his seat anymore. Neither was his phone, or whatever else he was carrying with him. You look around, and your eyes fall outside the cafe, and you stare as Minho has his hands behind his back, looking around at the streets. Why was he out? You walk out of the small cafe, bowing to the waiter who held the door open for you.

"Hey! What are you doing here?"

"The coffee was fucking disgusting. Let's go somewhere else."

"Are we seriously continuing this? Just take a picture so we can go back to hating each other," you whine out of annoyance, stomping your feet on the concrete sidewalk.

"Let's go to your place then."

"It's not really clean…" you say with a shrug as you remember the mess your roommate had made before leaving the apartment for the night.

"It's okay! I bet my house is worse."

—

"Okay I take that back. Your house is a dumpster."

"Hey!"

You and Minho reached your apartment, and you knew he was going to day something snarky to piss you off. You sigh and pull him inside the house. You didn't want to deal with another mom–like figure again.

“You can sit, I’ll get something for you.”

“No it’s good I don’t need anything. That coffee made me lose my appetite for the next decade.”

You laugh, placing down your purse on the shelf before walking Minho to your room. Your roommate had strictly warned you to not bring boys to the dorm, and when she was the first one to break the rule, she covered it up by saying they shouldn’t be in the living room or whatever.

Minho plops himself on the single couch, looking around in your room. He looks at you going into the bathroom— probably to change —and uses this moment to check out your room.

You leave the bathroom door half open, since the strong stench of fish cooked by your neighbors filled the small space. You weren’t doing any personal business anyways, just opening the little-too-tight messy bun and combing through your locks for the usual bedtime.

Minho found your bed more comfortable than the rough couch, so he decided to settle himself on it, looking at the small photo frames with pictures of you with your friends and family in them. He hears a thud from your side, looking over in delight if you’ve finally messed something. Instead, he was met with your petite frame picking up the wooden brush you had dropped, resuming to combing through your hair. He wasn’t disappointed, though.

You weren’t just a pretty face to him. You had a beautiful soul. He definitely thought you were cute, and he had fallen for you since day one. And now your actions were just fueling his desire. He sighs, looking down when your eyes meet his through the mirror. You finish off your routine and step out, a soft smile dancing on your lips as you walk over to Minho. You hop onto the bed, crossing your legs and facing him.

“So uhh… who's your favourite artist?”

“Can I kiss you?” Minho asks. His cheeks flush red in embarrassment when you ask something completely unrelated to his request.

“Um, I think so? Yeah. Yes you ca—”

Minho stops you midway by pushing his pink lips onto your chapped ones, grinning cheekily. You can hear the fireworks bursting in your insides, and you try your hardest to stop yourself from smiling wide into the kiss. Minho gently places a hand on your thigh, resting it there until you take initiative and slowly pull away.

He looks at you with soft but dark eyes, lips red and wet from the kiss. You look back at him hungrily, this time leaning over and kissing him. The second time was way better— more confident, lustful, rough, passionate. You coil your arms around his neck, moving deeper and ahead onto his lap. You sit above him straddling him, while he holds you down in place with a strong grip on your waist.

You moan softly when he bucks his hips, slightly grinding into you. He breaks the kiss and falls back on the pillow with hooded eyes and a smirk, having you seated in his lap. You quickly shuffle and pop open his jeans, dragging them down steadily. He slightly sits back up and pulls you into a heated kiss, moving his lips in sync with yours.

You groan when he starts running his hand down your back, unzipping the blue dress. When you’re finally free out of the garment, you resume grinding down on the male as he throws his head back on the pillow, incoherent profanities and moans spilling out his lips. You feel impatience bubbling in you and you pull down the material off of him.

“Wait.”

You look up at him, confusion and curiosity building up in you. He picks you up by the waist and places you down on your back next to him, as he climbs up above you. He latches his lips on your neck, sucking various spots and watching in satisfaction as the purples and reds bloom on the skin. He kisses down your form, pecking your chest, to your abdomen and finally reaches your core.

He licks a tight strip up from your folds to your clit, and you whine at the tease. He smirks, gliding his fingers up and down your cunt. You arch your back reflexively, gripping the sheets under you tightly. Minho looks at you through drowsy eyes, smirking as he feels you crumbling under him.

He prods one finger at your entrance, slowly pushing it deeper and deeper. You moan louder at the intense feeling burning in your core, and Minho starts thrusting his digits in and out of your hole. You feel the pressure building up in you, and just then he adds two more fingers and curls them in you. It was as if an invisible force was tearing you apart, pleasure eating you up.

He hisses as he pumps his fingers in you at an unbelievable pace, reaching his other hand to your breasts and toying with your nipples. You dig your nails into the sheets beneath you, bringing the other hand over Minho’s which played with your boobs.

The burning feeling in your abdomen nothing but rises, and you feel yourself losing your mind as you fall closer and closer to your orgasm. You feel a soft sensation pressed against your clit, and your eyes flutter open as you look at Minho licking and kissing your clit as he humps the bed, driving you insane. He grazes his teeth above your clit, and you let yourself lose, the knot inside you untying. Your juices escape you and Minho licks and laps them up like he was a man starved.

You whine at the overstimulation, and he slowly pulls his fingers out. He sits up as you catch your breath, and sits at the edge of the bed. You crawl down and position yourself between his feet, placing your palms above his thighs. You lick his hard shaft from bottom to top, one hand slowly pumping his base. He sighs deeply, dropping his head down while biting his lip.

You lick his tip one last time, before hollowing your mouth and going down on him. You take him in one go, using your hands for what wasn't going to fit. His tip brushes the back of your throat, and you press your tongue flat against his cock.

He grunts at your pace, holding a fistful of your hair before thrusting harshly in your mouth. Tears spring in your eyes as you take him whole, never leaving his cock void of your touch. He bucks his hips up, loosening his tight grip on your scalp, as you feel his shaft swell. You slide up with a pop, using your hand instead, and pumping him at a quick pace.

You use your other hand to press your fingers on his slit, smothering the pre-cum all over the tip. The sensations send him overboard, and before you know it, he moans and groans as his high washes over him, liquids covering your hand and wrists.

He catches his own breath, as you rush over to your nightstand to grab a couple of wet wipes. You clean up your hands, walking back over to him and handing some to do his business. He swabs off the sweat and struts lazily to the washroom, washing up so that he could leave. You look at him, upset that he was going.

"You're going?"

"You want me to stay?"

"Me? Want you to stay? Pfft yeah right."

You both laugh awkwardly, as he starts getting dressed up.

"No actually, uhh my roommate is a bitch so she apparently doesn't want guys around and stuff so… yeah. I mean I totally wouldn't mind, you know."

"Yeah that's alright, my roommate must be waiting for me. I told him I'd be up to play a game or two."

"Sure. See you."

He grins back, not responding as he grabs his keys and phone to head back home. Once you both bid your farewells, you rush to your room smiling like a madman, throwing yourself onto the bed. You look up dreamily, hiding your face in your hands as you recollect what you had just done. Two dings on your phone wake you up from your daze, and you reach out to check who the messages were from.

M*nhoe: Mrs. Ahn is my aunt

M*nhoe: haha loser.

—

a/n; thank you guys for the support hehe🤧 Also have no reason for why this took me like 300 years to write~ I’ll be posting more frequently now since my school hours have been reduced :)

tua s1 brought something that was very unique to the superhero scene. it marketed itself as a show about people who had super powers but were very far from being heroes. they were all deeply flawed and heavily marred by their upbringing which seemed cruel, cold, and devoid of affection from their patriarch and this resulted in damaged, bitter, imperfect but also very human characters. what was even better was how different each sibling was in general but also specifically in how they responded to their horrible upbringing and the consequences they faced because of this. their differences allowed for a wider appeal. we're all a little fucked up because of our childhoods but we all respond to that in different ways and having seven different characters who all had their unique responses meant that even if you don't really connect with one sibling's response, it is likely that you might connect with another's. and imo, this is what made the show work. the plot is....frankly it's weak. there are plot holes big enough to fit Five's inflated ego through. but the weaknesses in plot were more forgivable because even when it was at its weakest, the investment in the characters meant you still cared what happened because it was happening to characters you cared about.

s2 completely threw this to the wind. they spent a lot of time kind of....smoothing out the siblings. one thing I noticed was that the sibs all talked far more like each other. and I have siblings so I know that this is something that actually happens in families but in this case, I don't think it added to the story and actually took away from characterization. a lot of the character arcs from s1 aren't continued or built upon but rather they are either retcon-ed, ignored, or rehashed. instead, all of the siblings are smoothed out. their jagged edges are sanded away unt they are more "likable" (which is pretty wild when you consider how much smoothing out they did when transferring the characters from the comics).

why did they do this? well....it's what the fan base, or at the very least the most vocal part of the fan base, asked for. I will say that in a way, the characters are far more palatable now. take diego for instance. in s1, he was possibly the most volatile of the siblings, even Five, the time traveling assassin, takes issue with his level of violence at one point. and we understand that diego's violence comes from a place of hurt and his hurt largely comes from a place of rejection. he is rejected by his father, by his siblings, by the world around him and this manifests as a hyper-violent nature despite the fact that diego is actually quite soft hearted as we see through flashbacks and key moments in the present. he is angry because he cares. most of this is shown to us instead of told. no one ever says in s1, "diego uses violence to cope with his pain."

so in comparison, why is diego the way he is in s2? and how are we told this? most of the time, we are told what diego is feeling and what his motivations through various mouthpieces even if these explanations don't quite make sense. why is he attached to the jfk assassination? a therapist tells us why as well as lila often operating as a mouth piece for diego's internality. five sometimes explains to us who diego is as well. and while there's nothing necessarily wrong with any of these things in isolation, all together and in context to one another, illustrates an issue with how the writers decided to construct their characters this season.

another example, vanya. this whole "characters being dictated to the audience via mouthpiece" device that the writers decided to use constantly this season is a lot more obvious with her because its pretty much built into her amnesia arc. vanya can't tell us who she is because she doesn't know so other characters will tell us instead. take the dialogue between sissy, vanya, and carl at the beginning of the season when vanya says something along the lines of how she isn't the kind of girl that people would miss and sissy disagrees but....why? how does the story tells us this or not tell us this? do any of the siblings, all of whom, save for five, have been in the 1960s longer than she's been there have not spent one bit of time it seems looking for her. even in her relationship with the family she's staying with, we have no context for sissy's statement. who vanya is told to us. never really shown. who is vanya to sissy and harlan and carl? who is she to her siblings? why is she important to any of these people? is that shown to us effectively or is it just told to us?

and I'm not talking about this to shame or bash on ppl who enjoyed the season. I'm not here to say that you are bad for liking the way the siblings are written this season better than last season. I get it. they are far more palatable now that their mean, bitter, jagged parts have been shaved down. but... palatable is not "better" or "good". I think the same goes for writing that is "gritty" or whatever. it all depends on whether or not it works within the context of everything else going on in the narrative. I think the messier versions of the siblings worked better for the story. It provided a grounding and human element to the story, some much needed levity. I don't think the new characterizations work as well and renders much of the "stakes" of the show a lot less meaningful and worthy of investment and while it was clear that the show had a higher budget and was hell-bent on using it to make the show more action packed and flashy but without strong character writing, the resulting product came off as very empty.

The Way of Masters

(art by Phil Noto)

So with her likely upcoming appearances in Young Justice and maybe Gotham and maybe Birds of Prey, I’ve had Lady Shiva on my mind again. Well... more than usual. And I managed to keep it bottled up so far but now I feel those urges again so let’s at least try to channel them into some hopefully decent comic book analysis. Today’s subject: why I can never get really behind any story that involves Lady Shiva teaching anyone martial arts. 

Expect the usual copious amounts of NOT MUH under the jump:

The concept of Lady Shiva as a teacher comes from two main sources: Jim Starlin’s Death in the Family, which established her as a teacher for hire, and Chuck Dixon’s first Robin miniseries, where Tim Drake ran into her and asked her to train him. It was further solidified in Gulacy and Dixon’s Knightsend, where she helped Bruce get his kung fu mojo back after healing from his spine injury. And then there was Gail Simone’s Birds of Prey, where Shiva trained Dinah Lance to try and turn her into her successor. On top of all that, there’s New52 Shiva having trained Jason Todd, and while I have no idea if it’s been confirmed in canon, I’m like 90% sure she must’ve trained Damian at some point too. So it’s pretty much a solidly established fact that Shiva trains people.

And I personally find it to be a fundamental misunderstanding of her character.

(art by Brian Bolland)

Now, first of all, logistics-wise I have a problem with people repeatedly going to train with a known killer when guys like Richard Dragon are just, y’know, there. And while there’s a dozen of possible in-universe explanations that you could possibly wield (It’s faster! It’s harder! It allows you to learn her techniques should you ever have to fight her!), ultimately I think the best explanation is just that it’s more dramatic. To be trained by someone diametrically opposed to your ideology in stuff you want to know but have vowed not to use is an absolute no-brainer in terms of dramatic tension. And that’s exactly why I don’t like it from the start: because every. Single. Story. That involves Shiva training anyone always ends in the exact same place: with Shiva ordering her student to kill and her student refusing to. Or in Bruce’s case, just pretending he killed someone. 

This is nothing but a pointless exercise in character reaffirmation that does nobody any favors. Of course Batman/Robin/Black Canary is not going to kill anybody. Tempting them with it is just going through the motions. It was old hat in the 90s, let alone now. And yet, in one form or another, it just keeps happening. And it keeps happening because none of these stories are really concerned with Shiva herself. They are stories about Batman/Robin/Black Canary getting stronger, with Shiva used as a tool whose characterization is based on the most surface-level reading possible of her. The problem is that these stories also feed into each other, just like how Hush establishing Shiva as a member of the League of Shadows snowballed into this hellscape where she’s literally nothing but a member of the League of Shadows. Lack of interest in her actual character creates and perpetuates these misunderstandings until nothing else exists. But now the question becomes, well, what is her actual character? Good question.

So in Denny O’Neil’s Question run, which I am never going to shut up about until everyone who even thinks about writing Lady Shiva reads through at least twice, Shiva physically and metaphorically kills Vic Sage, then saves his life. I’ve talked about this before but the short of it is that not only does she kill his body, but by presenting him with something he can’t understand, she also kills his stoic, narrow-minded idea of a black and white world. But once she’s saved him, she doesn’t stick around to train him. Instead, she gives him the address of the aforementioned Richard Dragon, who takes him in as a pupil. And this is where things start getting a bit floaty.

(art by Denys Cowan)

Because there’s a difference between teaching someone and helping them learn it on their own. Zen Buddhists know this. The idea is not to build a path for someone, or to guide them through it. The path is unique to every person and they have to walk it by themselves. But that doesn’t mean you can’t at least point them towards it. Which is what Richard does. Sure, he teaches Vic how to fight, but way later in the run, Richard explains how unimportant that is:

And make no mistake: Shiva is very similar to Richard in this aspect. Her interest in Vic is not about whether he can become a mighty warrior, but in what motivates him. She’s interested in seeing how Vic develops, and her reasons are, in her own veiled way, pretty much the same as Richard’s:

Right before this page, Richard explained that Shiva thinks Vic is fueled by a lust for combat, while he argues that it’s curiosity that motivates him. And the book never gives a clear-cut answer, showing Vic as an intensely curious creature (in fact, it was his curiosity about Shiva’s motivation that helped tear down his old black-and-white worldview) but also as someone prone to seeking the simplicity of punching dudes in the fucking face when the world gets too complex. Which is part of the genius of this Question run: nobody is ever that simple.

Now, it’s possible to transfer this to the exampled provided below and say that Shiva is similarly interested in Robin/Batman/Black Canary’s development. But only if you don’t really go any deeper than the pure surface. Because the difference here is that at no point through the entire Question run does Shiva demand that Vic take a life. She doesn’t want to prove to him that her way is superior, or that killing people makes you better. She doesn’t want Vic to become like her. She’s just interested in seeing how, once violently stripped of all his preconceived notions and brought back as an almost clean slate, he evolves. And it’s an evolution Shiva has respect for.

And that’s why I can’t get behind any story about Shiva as a teacher. Because just like Richard, she’s not there to try and tempt people to walk her same path of slaughter, sneering smugly at their heroic ideals of the sacredness of life. That’s a dangerously bi-dimensional reading of her that leads to endless rehashes of tired plotlines that go to the same wretchedly familiar places we’ve been to a thousand times before. There’s no deeper insight into the character of Tim Drake or Bruce Wayne to be gained by putting them in a situation where they’re forced to kill but they don’t. There’s no evolution, no characterization, there’s nothing to be gained except for a physical upgrade. And while they may not lose much from just going through the motions over and over again, Shiva gets it so much worse because her character is eroded by these nothing plots.

(art by Ed Benes)

In BoP, Simone tried to give Shiva a new reason to actively seek an apprentice, which at least demonstrates more agency on her part than the usual row of Bat-people knocking at her door. Simone’s Shiva is preoccupied with the future and creating a legacy, but again, that’s an idea I just can’t get behind at all. To have a character as steeped into Zen Buddhism and Taoism as Lady Shiva worry about life after death feels like a betrayal, and wanting to turn Dinah into a new version of herself clashes with everything explained above. And Starlin, Dixon, Gulacy, Loeb, Gabrych and Tynion IV don’t even try. It’s enough to make one wonder, is there any writer who actually paid attention when reading Question?

(art by Damion Scott)

Look, call this a reach, but I think there’s a pretty good reason why Lady Shiva’s first appearance in Kelley Puckett’s Batgirl has her wearing a purple coat that’s basically an update of her design in the very first issue of Question. And considering Puckett actually collaborated with O’Neil on the tail end of that run, it’s not even that far of a reach. More importantly, however, Shiva treats Cassandra pretty much the exact same way as she treats Vic: she tears her apart and then leaves her alone for a year so she can rebuild herself. That’s not to say it’s a 100% perfect callback. She does help Cass get her body-reading skills back, and sadly, some of Shiva’s kill-crazy personality has seeped in, making her give speeches about how Cassandra is a waste because she doesn’t kill and how if they are to fight they must fight to the death and whatnot. Which makes sense for Cassandra’s development since rejecting such notions is a big part of her character, although that doesn’t make it any less tired.

But ultimately, the reason why I bring up Puckett’s Shiva is because he’s pretty much the only one to actually take those aspects of O’Neil’s Shiva and bring them back into the light. In a perfect world, the whole “you must kill” thing wouldn’t exist and Shiva would just be satisfied with seeing Cassandra develop on her own. And as we move further into pure headcanon territory, I think O’Neil’s Shiva would be downright fascinated by the idea of someone becoming stronger than her in their own terms rather than just by trying to be like her in every way. Sadly, Puckett’s Shiva doesn’t stick the landing, since the respect she shows for Vic’s personal growth is nowhere to be seen here. And once Gabrych takes over, we’re right back into caricature mode, where we’ve stayed for over a decade save for that one Blackest Night Question special. Which was co-written by, big surprise here, Denny O’Neil.

I understand why writers go for it. It’s simple, it’s dramatic, it’s familiar, and it gives their characters something to brag about. “Trained by the greatest martial artists in the DCU, including Lady Shiva” is used to describe even people like Cassandra who never actually trained under her. But I think it’s an error. And I find the alternative not just more gripping and compelling but also ripe with possibilities for both characters in the equation. It forces the person writing it to sit down and think what could Shiva find interesting in each character, and how they could be changed by her presence, framing it all as a two-sided journey of self discovery rather than a melodramatic ideological struggle of which we all know the ending. All you have to do is stop treating one of the most interesting characters in modern DC as a tool to make others get better at punching.

“Cindy Miller’s Daemons, A monologue”, an Ede Valley story by Hedgehog

Cindy: You know how in kindergarten, how there’s free time and you’re playing with the cardboard blocks or whatever, and you can play with whoever you want because everyone’s friends? But then, by the start of first grade, everyone already has their groups? They’re not called “the preps”, or “the dorks”, or “the jocks” just yet, but they will be. And it’s really not fair to make someone so young choose who their going to be at such a young age. And they are choosing, because odds are, that you will be a part of that group until the end of high school. Probably longer. Because these people will change you. No, you will change yourself to please these people. Humans hate change, humans hate being alone. I didn’t want to be alone.

If the me from kindergarten met the me from fifth grade, or middle school, or high school, I don’t think she would recognize herself. In fifth grade, she begged her mom to buy her a training bra, even though she clearly didn’t need it, just because her friends were. In middle school, she laughed at other girls to make herself feel better about the fact that she no longer knew she was. In high school, she pushed herself past her limit with AP classes and track and student council and friends and parties and boys, because that’s what all of her friends were doing. She didn’t realize that she was killing herself. I didn’t realize that I was killing myself.

It all ended with chemistry. Doesn’t everything? Hopes, dreams, the essential composition of your very being. (laughs) I had insisted on taking it a year early because, say it with me now, all of the friends were. My councilor strongly advised against it, math and science had never been my forte, but did I listen? Of course not. Did I ask for help when I struggled? Of course not. Why would I? To ask for help would be to admit my own weakness.

So when the end of second semester drew near, I began panicking. A B-. I had a B-. I had never had a B- before ever. I was about to bid farewell to my 4.0. The only thing I could think of to do was suck it up and grovel to the teacher. And I did. I went back to his class after school had finished for the day and begged.

“You took this class too early,” he said. “You didn’t ask for help,” he said. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.”

I tried everything. Asked to retake quizzes, do extra credit. I’m ashamed to say that I even offered something that no one of my age should have. But there was simply nothing to be done.

And in that moment, I saw my future flash before my eyes. Goodbye 4.0, goodbye Harvard, goodbye Brown. In twenty years I’d be three-hundred pounds, married to a washed-up loser with five kids, and working at a gas station. But worst of all, I kept seeing the gloating faces of my friends at the inevitable class reunions, watching them with their handsome husbands, stylish clothes, and beautiful lives, and me, standing there wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten that B- in chemistry. To most people it might not seem like a big deal, and looking back on it now, it really wasn’t. But to sixteen-year-old Cynthia Miller? To her, that grade was the world.

I don’t remember much about my father, my mother finally got away from him when I was five, but from what I do know, he was... a rather violent person. I sometimes wonder how much of that I inherited, because the first thing I thought of to do was to grab the bottle of miscellaneous chemicals just sitting on a vacant lab table and smash it over his head.

The bottle, apparently, contained a unique set of substances that shouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near a high school classroom. How they got there, I’ll probably never know. But in that moment I wasn’t even thinking about anything like that. All I could do was stare, frozen, as my chemistry teacher’s face melted.

Soon, he was nothing more than a heap of blood and tissue lying on the floor. Later, I’d have nightmares about that, and I’d feel so much guilt and grief that I’d just want to die. But right then I was in shock, I guess, and panicking. The only thing I could think was that someone was going to realize that I was the last person who’d seen him alive and figure out what I’d done. Forget the gas station, I’d be in jail for the rest of my natural life. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know where to go, and I couldn’t look away. That was when I met the daemon.

“(Whistle) That’s quite a mess you’ve made there, young lady.” He was standing in the doorway, dressed like a janitor, though I had never seen him before in my life. I almost ran, but then he explained that he was apparently a daemon named Cowell, and that he wanted to make a deal with me. “I can give you the power to make this all go away, to give you that perfect life you’ve been dreaming of, but... I need something in exchange.”

“Like what? I’ll give you anything.”

“Hmm... I want... your subjectivity.”

“My what?”

“Your point of view. The rose-tinted glasses through which you view the world.”

“Fine. Sure, whatever. Just please help me.”

I didn’t know what that meant, and at the time I didn’t care. I was a fucking idiot. I’ve utterly certain about that, because now I can’t see it any other way.

We sealed the deal, and he handed me a book. “Liberis Decipis,” the cover read. “Book of the Deceived.” I think he thought it was ironic. He told me that he would come to collect his end of the bargain when I used the book, and with that, he was just gone without a word.

I ran out the door, away from school, and somehow made it home, the book tucked under my arm. I locked myself in my room, and began to read. It was very old, very large, and written by at least a dozen different hands, some in Latin, some in English, and some in a language that I didn’t even recognize. I also quickly discovered that it was a grimoire... full of spells. And not the kind of stuff you see in Harry Potter where you wave a wand and cool CGI effects happen. That’s all bullshit. Magic is not flashy, and it’s certainly not easy. No, this was the old kind of magic where you have to do a certain thing at a certain time of month when the planets are in the exact right alignment and you have to gather a bunch of insane ingredients and stick ‘em in a pot while chanting “Hail Satan.” Okay, maybe not that last part, but you get the idea.

I stayed up all night, desperately trying to find something that could help me, and eventually, I did. And best of all, I could do it in a few hours. But it was... very costly. It’s not that easy to make the whole world forget that a person ever existed. So, what have we learned today? That you can make a deal with a daemon and erasing your victim from existence with your newfound unholy powers? But it’s not that simple, is it?

As I walked to school the next day, I was terrified that the spell hadn’t worked, or that seeing the lump that had once been my chemistry teacher had driven me temporarily insane and I’d made the whole thing up. But I had nothing to worry about. There were no rumors, no police cars, even the door to his room had become a solid brick wall.

I spent most of the first half of the day in a daze, wondering if it had all been just a bad dream. Until lunch, that is. I had just sat down at my very full table, surrounded by friends, when I happened to look over to see a sickening familiar janitor waving and smirking over at me. I had completely forgotten about my end of the bargain. My subjectivity, he said he wanted. I barely knew the meaning of the word. Taking stock, I didn’t feel any different. I shook myself, turned back to my friends, and tried to forget about it.

Someone was talking about the new pair of shoes she had just bought, and everyone was gushing over them, but I had to struggle to pay attention. It was strange, I usually loved talking about clothes, and yet at that moment, it suddenly felt so inane and insignificant. Why did the shoes mean so much? She was just going to buy another pair in three weeks and forget all about them. And why did she need so many shoes in the first place? Three-quarters of them never got worn and most of the others hurt like hell to walk in.

And then, I looked around at the other girls, all my “friends”, and I wondered why we cared so much about what we looked like. What we thought of each other. And I realized that it didn’t even matter at all, because we were all so concerned with how we looked that we weren’t even paying attention to anyone else. So why did it matter?

All around me, I saw the exact same thing. No matter who they were, what group they belonged to, they were all so concerned about what others thought about them, that no one was really thinking about anyone else at all. They were all so petty, so... shallow. It was like I had spent my whole life with a mask over my faces—or a pair of rose-tinted glasses—and it had suddenly been lifted. My mouth dropped open as I understood what Cowell had taken from me. I could see the world as it truly was, and I couldn’t turn it off.

Distantly, someone was asking if I was feeling alright. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Do you need to go to the nurse’s office?”

“No, I’m—”

“She can’t do that, you idiot. If she went home then she’d have to miss track.”

“I... what? No, tha-that’s not important.”

“You must really not be feeling okay. State’s in like, a week, you know?”

I couldn’t believe it. All of the sudden I couldn’t understand why I had thought that track was so important. What had I even liked about it in the first place?

“Hey,” I asked. “Why do we do track again?”

The girls blinked at me. “What do you mean ‘why’? Uh, because it’s fun.”

“But what’s so fun about it? Cuz it sure as hell ain’t the running. Can you honestly tell me that you like being sore all the time?”

“Not really. But all of our friends do it.”

“Friends? I... I don’t even like any of you.” It was another realization, but to me it was clear as day. Just a fact. None of these girls and I really had anything in common. Some part of me had always found them petty and annoying, so why had I put up with them?

The table gasped, but I kept going. “So, what is it then? Why track? If it’s not the running, is it the winning then? But that’s just a plaque with your name on it that no one gives a shit about. Is it the personal accomplishment? Maybe for some people, but all we do is complain about it. So what is it then?”

“It looks good on a college application.”

I should have shut up then, should have laughed it all off like it was a big joke, but I couldn’t. My mouth kept moving, and I was powerless to stop it. “Oh, of course, college. That’s what I’m killing myself for, isn’t it? That’s why I’m taking three AP classes, heading student council, and running track, all so that I look good on paper, like I’ve had a “well-rounded” education, so that I can get into the best college, so that I can get a boring job that I don’t like, and have some kids with a man I’ve simply “settled for” because being alone is hard, and then die in eighty years.”

I stood up from the table. I felt sick. “What’s the point? What’s the fucking point? Can anyone tell me? Or are you all just too busy staring at the next carrot dangling in front of your noses to notice? The next step to fucking death! We’re all just bits of meat and bones that think for a little while and then die. Ashes in the fucking breeze. That’s all there is, isn’t there? There’s no point to any of this! There’s no... why are you all staring at me?”

Do I really think all of those things? I did at the time. I saw things as they really were in that cafeteria and assumed that the rest of the world was just the same. But after the police liaison dragged me away and pretty much forcibly locked me up in a psych ward for two months, I had a lot of time to think. And I saw a lot of things there. By the time I had gotten good enough at lying, at appearing normal, for them to let me out, I didn’t believe that everything was meaningless anymore.

See, it’s not that life is meaningless, it’s that most people settle for a life that doesn’t make them happy, not truly happy, just enough, and that makes it meaningless. Look at me talking. I know I’m a hypocrite. I haven’t done much of anything in the past year. But I think that, for the first time in a long time, I’m starting to become happy. I’m starting to find the me from kindergarten that I lost so many years ago, the person that I really am. And now that I’ve been at the lowest of the low, things can only get better from here, right?

Author: https://oxfordsemicolon-rebel.tumblr.com/

Recipient: http://redvsvblue.tumblr.com

Summary: When Gavin goes missing while searching for Enderpearls from Achievement City, Geoff, Jack, Ryan, Michael and Jeremy set out to find their favourite Brit.

Warnings: minor injury

WordCount: 1, 863

"Where the fuck did Gavin go?"`

Jack sighed, stopping his farming and turning to watch as he heard Geoff yelling about the young Brit.

"What did he do this time?" Jack said as Geoff came up to his garden.

"There's fucking lava in my house! And the only one who can't be found is that little shit. So, have you seen him?"

Jack sighed; just a prank, then. "No, Geoff, I haven't seen him. Check with Michael, you know those two are always together."

Geoff groaned. "I know. That's why I checked with him first. Nada." Jack felt the stirring of something in his stomach. Geoff went on "…same thing with Jeremy. Said he hadn't seen him since yesterday"

Jack asked, the ‘something’ solidifying into worry. "And Ryan? Did you-Have you asked him yet?"

Geoff huffed, oblivious to the trepidation spreading through his bearded companion. "He's next on my list, if you're sure you haven't seen him? If you're covering for the little prick he won't be the only one to pay the price"

Jack cut him off; "No, I definitely haven’t seen him. Do you think…do you think something might have happened?”

Geoff, understanding why the ginger was so nervous, felt the beginnings of concern. “No, no I’m sure he’s with Ryan, or off hiding somewhere because he knows I’ll beat his ass when I find him.”

Jack look unconvinced, but replied nonetheless “Yeah, I’m just being silly. But let’s go ask Ryan…just in case.”

“Yeah”

Ryan was completely engrossed in his work when the two older men approached. He seemed to be building some sort of underground chamber, and neither Jack nor Geoff wanted to know why he needed a giant stone glass ceiling-ed room.

“Ryan.”

The tall blonde turned around, a flicker of concern crossing his face when he saw the two older men’s tense stances.

“What’s wrong?”

“How did you-why do you think somethi-” Geoff began spluttering, before being cut off by his bearded companion.

“Have you seen Gavin?” Jack asked, getting straight to the point.

Ryan’s face immediately grew more concerned. Though he would vehemently deny it, they all knew he had a soft spot for the Brit. “He’s not with Michael? Or Jeremy?”

“No, and if he’s not with you either, no one has seen him since yesterday morning.” Geoff responded, worry for his surrogate-son clear on his face. “He set my house on fire, but it’s burned enough he could have done it even before then, I was building an underwater house last night, I haven’t been home in 2 days.”

“And I haven’t seen him since he was talking to me about getting some ender pearls…oh. Oh shit.” Jack said, realization dawning.

“Oh shit” Ryan echoed.

The three men looked between themselves, before simultaneously coming to a decision.

“Well, if we’re gonna do this; we had better go grab the lads.” Geoff announced, his tone brooking no arguments, though his fellow gents had no protests. They were both keenly aware of the extents they would go to for the youngest of their mish-mashed little sextet.

Jeremy and Michael are together when the Gents come stalking up, looking for all the world as though someone has died; their gazes dark, their shoulders slumped, their steps laborious. Both the lads’ minds immediately jump to the last time one of their own had looked like that, remembering watching as Ryan didn’t look close enough, as he was taken by surprise by a skeleton archer, and sent careening over the edge of a cliff, and both Michael and Jeremy suddenly become acutely aware of the one member missing from the gathering.

“Where’s Gavin?” Jeremy asks, trepidation clear in his voice.

“We think he might be…that is to say, we’re fairly sure he’s bee-”

“The idiot got himself stuck in the Nether.” Ryan cuts off Jack’s stuttering, though he looks at the man apologetically. Jack, of course, understands. Each member of their little troupe deals with their concern differently; Jack gets anxious and nervous and worried, becoming over-protective and mothering; Ryan lashes out, goes short-tempered and impatient to hide his fear.

“Well fuck” Michael lets out.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself. Which is why we’re about to go after the little shit and help him with all whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into.” Geoff says, before turning on his heel and stalking off.

The four remaining hunters share a look, communicating without words; they all saw the way Geoff’s eyes betrayed his concern before he turned away, and they all know they’ll have to look out for him. Where Jack frets and Ryan angers, Geoff becomes ruthlessly efficient, working and fighting while completely ignoring his own needs. It will only be worse with Gavin, whom Geoff has always been more protective of, and the men all make a silent vow to make sure Geoff is okay. Of course, Geoff isn’t the only one who has a soft spot for the Brit, and, as each man’s gaze meets the others’, each can see the resolve hardening in their compatriots’ eyes. They’ll all make it out of this unharmed, Nether and monsters be damned.

The 5 of them walk through the nether, heading away from the only entrance and exit and towards what Jeremy eloquently put as “our impending doom.” The boys’ usual boisterous humour was noticeably missing, only adding more tension to the already downcast group.

Geoff headed the group, walking determinedly forward, as though knowing exactly where he would find their missing lover. Jack walked next to him, clearly following Geoff but striding directly by his side, not a step behind. Jeremy walked behind them, eyes running over each and every pile of dirt, monster and lava pool with a frantic attentiveness that spoke of his fear. Michael paced around the group, breaking through anything obstructing the path or around it, his frustration being taken out on the unfeeling piles of dirt and monsters roaming the dark world. Ryan pulled up the back of the troupe, not interacting with the others in the slightest, a tight hold on his emotions in an attempt to keep himself from breaking down. His eyes watched the backs of the 4 men he called his own, trusting them to be looking for their last member, but unable to look away for fear of another of them disappearing.

They were all getting more and more anxious as the minutes went by with no sign of Gavin when a muffled shout came from just over the horizon. Five heads snapped towards the sound, stopping in their tracks.

“Is that-”

“That’s gotta be-”

“Sounds like-”

“Oh my god-”

“Gavin!”

Suddenly the cry came again, still muffled but slightly louder, and with the tell-tale squawking of one very unique man.

The group looked at each other before rushing towards the sound, jumping over pools of lava and rushing uncaring of pig men and endermen, cutting and hacking as the yelling got louder, though it was no more legible the closer they got to it. Eventually, it became clear the noise had some sort of rhythm to it. In fact, if Jack didn’t know any better, he’d say it was…

“Is that fucking asshole singing?” Michael asked, relief mixing with anger over what was, yes, becoming more and more clearly Gavin’s nasally version of singing.

As the group approached, they could finally make out the loudly sung and worryingly slurred lyrics of the tune.

“-end Her Victorious

Happy and Glorious

Long to Reign Over Us

God Save The Queen!”

The band of men finally made it to the source of the sound, a large, very deep obsidian hole, with a sandy-haired figure at the very bottom of it. The figure, quickly identified by his lovers as Gavin, was lolling about with one of his legs at a very unnatural angle. He had paused for a moment, as though in deep thought, then, after a deep breath, has taken up the tune again.

“Our Albert Edward Bless

God Grant Him Happiness

God Save the Pr-”

Gavin’s rolling eyes finally stopped on the five faces peering over the edge of the hole, mouths and eyes wide with shock, though whether over Gavin’s song or the fact he was singing not one of them could say. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your perspective, befor they could regain their wits, the thin man spoke again.

“Oh bollocks” He said, speech only becoming more unintelligible as he continued, “you all missed the first verse. No matter, I’ll restart.” Then he took a deep breath, clearly intent on doing as he had said he would.

Before he could get a word out, thought, there were a series of thumps around him as Geoff, Jack, Ryan, Michael and Jeremy jumped into the hole. Geoff grabbed the young man, pulling him into a hug before the Brit flinched violently and rolled over the throw up. Jack petted his back soothingly, before he, with Geoff’s help, got Gavin settled with his head in the tattooed man’s lap.

“Gav?” Michael asked, tentative.

“Hey Micool” he replied, voice slurring the already horrid pronunciation even further. “What’re you guys doing here?”

“Saving your ass” Ryan instantly replied, continuing “How the hell did you get yourself stuck in an obsidian hole.”

“No’ enough…blocks n’ the food… the food ran n’out” Gavin, voice filled with exhaustion, muttered out.

“Well you fucking dick, next time maybe you should think of that before GOING INTO THE NETHER ALONE!” Geoff cried, voice lacking heat but filled with worry.

The smaller man just mumbled and turned his face into his stomach, curling around Geoff as Jack kissed his head while Michael took up the post of rubbing his back. Jeremy stood by, lightly resting a hand on his shoulder, while Ryan stood, still agitated as one of their party was hurt.

After a moment of silence, Gavin mumbled something again, the only word that was understandable being “…home?”

Geoff visibly softened, tense lines from his, and the others’, worry fading out as he gently lifted the clearly concussed young man.

“Yeah Gav, we’re gonna bring you home.”

Slowly, the six made their way out of the hole, building steps for Geoff to climb easily with Gavin still encompassed in his arms, shuddering lightly.

“’Ere was…”

“There was what Gav? C’mon, love, it’s okay.”

Gavin’s body was racked with a shudder again. “All ‘ight long…cryin’ out…bloody terrifying”

It was Geoff’s turn to shiver. “Who?”

Gavin turned into the larger man’s chest, the name just barely above a whisper. “Enderdicks”

Geoff’s arms tightened as, to his left, Jeremy let out an incredulous laugh. Geoff turned to look at him sharply, but the young man was already explaining himself.

“It’s just… no matter what happens, he’s still Gavin.” Jeremy shrugged helplessly.

And as the group finally exited the red-bathed world for their own-as they laid Gavin down in bed, as Michael and Jeremy reached for his hands, Geoff and Jack sitting next to his legs, and Ryan sitting by his head, just close enough to feel his heat but not quite touching. As they finally settled down together, just as it should be- Well, Geoff couldn’t help but agree.