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byoldervine · 3 months

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My Writing Hot Take (Apparently)

I’ve gotten some hate for saying this before, but screw it, I’m arguing my case again; you can’t criticise a piece of media for its premise

An example I’ve always used for this is that you wouldn’t say something like “This zombie apocalypse movie has too many zombies” because, if there were no zombies, then the zombie apocalypse movie wouldn’t have zombies or an apocalypse; the movie wouldn’t even be in the same genre anymore, the whole plot would be entirely different, it would be unrecognisable as the story the creator wanted to tell

The reason I stated this originally was because I saw a lot of people saying that the show Miraculous Ladybug sucked because it always relied on a Deus ex Machina through Ladybug’s Lucky Charm power to save the day. And if you’ve seen my main account, you know that I’m more than happy to criticise Miraculous, but I also believe in giving credit where credit’s due, and this wasn’t an area where Miraculous got it wrong

My argument was that, because the entire point of the Lucky Charm power is to create a solution to every problem, and the magical power of creation is a key component to the lore and premise of the show with creation and destruction being in balance to maintain the order of the universe, you can’t really criticise the power of Deus ex Machina for being a Deus ex Machina. In fact, if you count the magical earrings as a machine, Ladybug’s Lucky Charm power quite literally is a god from the machine (Tikki from inside the earrings) giving Ladybug the power to fight - the god in question is a main character actively assisting in the battle!

According to the comments I got the last time I argued this take, no form of writing should be immune to criticism and even concepts can be subject to ridicule. But at that point, if you don’t like Deus ex Machinas, why are you watching a show where the main character’s superpower is a Deus ex Machina, only to complain that she uses Deus ex Machinas? If you don’t like zombie apocalypse movies, why are you watching a zombie apocalypse movie, only to complain that there are too many zombies?

You’re allowed to criticise the execution of the premise, of course, but if you don’t like the premise itself, maybe it’s time to consider consuming different media rather than hating on someone because you have different preferences

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written-among-the-stars · 10 months

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"Every writer makes this mistake-" Shut up.

"A common thing many authors do wrong-" And you get to decide what's right?

"If you're a writer, you need to-" No I don't.

"When writing your book, don't-" Who's gonna stop me?

"These are six terrible ways to open your first chapter-" What if I do it anyway?

"If you can't answer these questions, you don't have a story-" Who do you think you are, the council of fiction?

Writing is a form of art. In art, there is no right and wrong. There are only goals and if they have or haven't been achieved. And only the writers themselves get to set the goals for their book and have a say if those were accomplished.

#writing #writeblr #writing hot take #writing advice

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marce-mallow · 2 years

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It’s weird when people say ‘People in fantasy worlds should have different cuss words. They wouldn’t have the same as ours.’ Like?? So they can have every word of our language the same expect swears? ‘Oh, borlysoot!’ definitely wouldn’t take me out of the story at all. Just let your goblin say damn if you want to.

#in my fantasy world i have a mash of regular and original swears #so just do what you want #writing #reading #writing hot take #hot take #no one argue on my page unless it’s entertaining #writer #writblr

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januscorner · 2 months

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Hot take but I don’t like the trope of the bully having a mean dad. It’s normally used as a way to absolve them of their actions which is frankly, complete bullshit. Like I don’t care that you have a bad home life you shoved a kid in a fucking locker.

#tw claustrophobia #writing trope #tw bullying #how do i even tag this #Janus’s Corner #Writing hot take

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unreachedgalaxy · 4 months

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sorry but modern AUs which depict harrowhark as incredibly goth or punk-looking just completely misunderstand harrow as a character. like, yes, aesthetically in the TLT context harrow has goth-like attributes. skull facepaint, bone earrings, etc, etc, i get it. but that's not counterculture for her! in fact, she dresses exactly how the revered daughter of the ninth house is expected to dress - down to the sacramentally shorn haircut.

which brings me to my main point. harrow's not a goth! she's a nun! she wouldn't be wearing chains and spikes, she would be wearing a full habit and a headscarf! she's a religious nun and she accidentally fell in love with lucifer. that's her aesthetic. she was raised in some deeply catholic cult somewhere in buttfuck nowhere and she carries a rosary everywhere she goes. there's your modern AU.

#don't come at me for this. draw/write harrow however you want. i'm not the harrow police #just my hot take #tlt #the locked tomb #harrowhark nonagesimus #harrow the ninth #harrow feeling exposed and uncomfortable without her robes and paint is exactly how my hijabi friends/relatives feel without their hijab #it's religious wear! it's not goth!#alectopause #gideon the ninth #griddlehark #nona the ninth

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plistommy · 14 days

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Steve’s known to be very good at charming girls.

He’s used to making them blush and giggle at his sweet words. Used to them giving him the bedroom eyes as their delicate hands slowly moved up his arm, squeezing the muscle there while begging for him to take them to his room and fuck them.

He never left them unsatisfied.

So, it wasn’t any different when he used the same technique on Eddie.

They had been sitting on his couch, a movie playing in the background when Steve had finally made the first move after months of them tiptoeing around each other and their feelings.

He’d made the older boy laugh at his dumb jokes before he had scooted closer, slowly moving his arm to rest on the back of the couch, very close to the Eddie’s shoulder and then… he had leaned in.

And Eddie had responded so well.

He kissed Steve back with the same type of desperation, arms finding their way around Steve’s waist and Steve felt like he was buzzing with excitement as he deepened the kiss, softly caressing the back of Eddie’s neck.

”Let’s go upstairs,” He had said, voice deep and low and it had made Eddie moan.

When they got to his room, Steve was all but ready to push Eddie to his bed and make him stay there looking all pretty while Steve did all the work.

But instead, he felt Eddie pushing him towards the bed and soon he was the one laying there, big brown eyes looking up as Eddie came to lay between his spread legs with a wide grin. He grinded down on him, making their clothed dicks brush against each other and Steve let out a soft moan out of surprise.

It was a total switch up from the nervous Eddie from earlier and it had made Steve feel many, many things as older boy started to kiss his neck.

Steve had to bite back a moan when he had licked his pulse, but Eddie wasn’t having any of that, apparently.

”C’mon, let me hear the real you, sweetheart.”

Steve hadn’t known what he had meant by that. Wasn’t this the real him?

When he has had sex before, he’d always focus on his partner and their pleasure over his as he’d try to make them as loud as possible when they cum. That’s what he does and what he loves.

But once Eddie was cock deep inside Steve’s tight heat, holding onto him and praising him of being such a good boy and the most gorgeous creature he’s ever laid his eyes on, Steve couldn’t help the way he whined.

Couldn’t help how he moaned with every thrust his lover was giving him. How he begged for more as he held onto Eddie’s shoulders and cried when Eddie answered to his pleas and fucked him harder.

How he came untouched for the very first time.

After that, when they were laying in his bed, both sweaty and panting from the sex, Steve realized he’d been so so wrong about himself and the sex he loved.

It made him a little irritated how much he had held back his own pleasure.

So, it hadn’t taken long until he was already up for a second round, riding Eddie with earnestness as he took control of the pace this time, listening to his own body and the things it liked. The things it needed.

Which was the way Eddie’s dick felt inside him. How full it made him feel and how it always hit that spot inside him that made his whole body tingle.

Yeah.

Steve was never coming back from this.

#Oh Steve the people pleaser that you are #Steve is a charming dude and he’d definitely get Eddie all hot and bothered but he’s in for a surprise when Eddie’s the one to take control #And NOT him like he’s used to being #And he really really loves it #Good for him #❤️#steddie #I got you in the first half #You will never see me writing top Steve LOL #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fandom #my writing #ficlet #text #headcanon

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willowser · 6 months

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katsuki blames the alcohol for making him stupid.

really stupid.

not that he's had a lot, but his tolerance is low for a guy of his size, and he can feel the edges of his inhibitions dulling with every drink of whatever denki has shoved in his hand. it doesn't taste like absolute shit, which is rare enough to have him indulging, just a bit, for the agency halloween party.

another sip has his head feeling a little swimmy, and before he knows it, his eyes are trailing across the room until they find you. again.

whatever the hell you're supposed to be tonight—a witch, or something else in a pointy hat—is really fucking with him, and has since you walked in. the costume isn't revealing in a sense that it's inappropriate for a work event, but it's...hugging you in all the right places. in every single one of them.

without tights, it would be on the too-short side, but—and no, katsuki can't fucking explain this—something about them is making everything worse. and your calf-high boots ain't helping, either.

it's just—your fucking—hips.

katsuki couldn't tell you what song is playing, but you're swaying back and forth to the tune and one of his canines digs into the plastic of his cup, so deeply that it makes a terrible creaking sound and dents beneath the pressure—and that's when a sharp elbow is delivered to the center of his chest.

mina is at his side when he looks, and her wide, freaky eyes scan his face before narrowing in her little shit-eating way.

"you're a pig."

katsuki chokes, and the little freak takes that as an admission of some kind.

"oh my god," she gasps, mouth falling in all her disgust and awe. "you can't even deny it!" and then she laughs, high and chirpy, and there's no way you can't hear her. "oh, you're down bad."

"cram it," he snaps, sinking his scowl into his cup. "i dunno what the hell you're talkin' about."

"you know i really thought better of you," mina sniffs effectively, turning her face up and away. "not the type to be blantly checking out somebody's ass."

katsuki bristles, and his aggrivation growns until the plastic in his hands starts to melt. "i wasn't—"

"i'm kidding!" mina snorts before flicking him in the nose, narrowly dodging the hand he swipes out at her. "quit being a baby and go shoot your shot already."

"piss. off."

but the hero is unaffected by him, simply scrunching up her face in response before turning on her heel to disappear further into the party.

she's wrong, katsuki thinks, because he's not a pig like sero or fucking dunce face or even kirishima, from time to time, who gets red in the face over a low cut shirt and a pair of tits.

fucking ridiculous, katsuki thinks, because he's way better than that.

it's just—the alcohol. that's making his lids heavy and his thoughts dark and his face hot. has him peeking at you over the lip of his cup, has him picturing you in his head when he's forced to look away.

and, well, maybe, the short cut of your dress has a little something to do with it, too—but he's keeping that shit to himself.

taking it to the grave, even.

#i just love the idea that bakugou really thinks he's so much better than like. denki or sero.#like he does NOT think with his dick like those idiots 😒#he's a level headed guy 😒 doesn't get all drooly over some hot babe 😒#but then he sees you all dressed up in some cute outfit and he's like 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 uh um 😵‍💫😵‍💫 ahem 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫#biting his fist over the curve of your ass and he's never felt more primitive in his LIFE #i am squeezing him until he pops #happy halloween dears 😌🎃🩸✨️🦇#TAKING IT TO THE GRAVE HA HA GET IT YOU GET IT #GRAVE HALLOWEEN GET IT GET IT #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: pre relationship bakugou

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atlabeth · 16 days

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too sweet

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: a night out makes hotch realize a few too many things.

a/n: me??? writing for criminal minds again out of nowhere??? what is going on. and i do not have an answer i was just in a hotch mood bc he's fine asf and i finally have the confidence to write for him here we are lol. hope u enjoy this short lil thing

wc: 2.4k

warning(s): alcohol consumption, a sexual joke or two, written in one go so might be a mess! aaron is all in his head but this is basically all fluff

Hotch can’t focus.

Mostly because he can’t stop glancing over at you. Normally it’s not a problem—he’d lost count of how many times he’d distracted himself from mounds of paperwork by meeting your eyes through his office window, often accompanied by a smile that made even his heart beat a little faster—and especially now, it shouldn’t be a problem.

You and Derek have had some kind of bet going on during the past few nights out—you didn’t believe he was as charming and suave as he claimed, and Morgan was all too happy to prove you wrong.

You bet that he couldn’t get at least five numbers every night, and come last Thursday, Morgan took the win at the end of the evening with a smile on his face. As punishment, the first round of their next night out was on you.

And that’s nice, sure. Hotch is always thankful that his team can still joke around and have fun with each other despite everything they have to deal with each day. He hopes they keep the light in their eyes as long as possible, especially the younger ones. He’s fine with being the stick in the mud, the one who never smiles, the iron willed chief that scares local uniforms.

Hotch is not so fine with the way he feels right now.

It’s a busy night at the bar, which is understandable. Hotch is sure half the precinct is out alongside them, celebrating the BAU finally solving the case that had torn them to shreds over the past week. You, Reid, and Garcia put the threads together an hour into scouring through evidence, and the unsub was cuffed before noon.

Certainly something to celebrate—there’s a reason the whole team agreed to go out tonight and leave tomorrow. Even Rossi decided to join when he learned you would be buying, but he’s already abandoned them in favor of catching up with some old friends. Hotch even thinks they might have another round in their future because of their solve, courtesy of the local chief. They had a long night ahead of them.

But you haven’t gotten the drinks yet, and Hotch wonders how long it’ll take even after you do. Because some officer is trying to talk you up, and you’re smiling and laughing along and giving him every bit of your attention.

Hotch recognized him the moment he set eyes upon him, even in plain clothes. He’s some joke of an officer from the station, and he’s been trying to get your number—or even just get your attention—throughout their whole visit. Always sidling up to you during debriefs, specifically giving you any information or evidence he finds—Hotch has overheard him asking for your number more than once.

Hotch has been so focused on the case he’s not even sure if you’ve rejected him or not, and the mere thought is enough to annoy him. If he wasn’t equally as sure of your ability to defend yourself and afraid of overstepping with you, he would have stepped in.

But it makes sense. The officer is young and handsome, you’re young and pretty—not to mention you have a way of lighting up any room you step into. Hotch spent the whole first month of your employment wondering why you would want to do a job like this. He’s spent the rest of it thankful that you did.

You’re sharp as a whip, naturally, but you’ve also done wonders for the team atmosphere. It’s hard to feel down with a smile like yours beaming his way. The job weighs you down like it does everyone, but you still manage to lift everyone’s spirits on the jet ride back before they jump into the next case. It’s impressive.

It’s also trouble. You’ve been part of the BAU for almost two years now, and Hotch has spent just as much time tearing his eyes away from you as he has working. It’s wrong, and it’s wholly inappropriate in terms of your working relationship—he’s your boss, for god’s sake.

But sometimes, Hotch will be beating himself up over one thing or another on a case, and you’ll plant yourself in his vicinity and refuse to leave until you’ve helped him work through it. If you ever tire of the FBI, he thinks you have a second calling as an elementary school teacher.

Sometimes the hotel they’re staying at will have truly shitty coffee, worse than they’re used to at the BAU, and you’ll already be in the lobby with a tray full of the team’s orders. Hotch never recalls telling you his order—you just figured it out, and you remembered it.

Sometimes his gaze will drift your way, and he’ll find you already staring at him. You look away just as quickly as he does, and it makes him wonder.

Hotch has made a living off of studying the behavior of others. More often than not, he finds himself profiling his co-workers just out of instinct. His job is to know what others are thinking.

But god. When it comes to you, Hotch doesn’t think he’s ever felt more unsure in his life. Especially when you look at him the same way he wants to for weeks, then act nothing but proper another day; when you fall asleep against his shoulder on the jet one night and entertain some desk jockey another night.

It makes him feel like a highschooler again, trying to figure out if Haley really liked him or if she was just playing around, and it’s more embarrassing than it should be. Especially when he’s still dealing with the lingering emotions from the divorce.

“Hotch.” JJ’s voice is enough to break him out of his trance, and he blinks as he turns to her. At least someone paid him the mercy to dispel his thoughts, even if only for a temporary time.

“What?”

“Did you hear a single word I said?” she asks, a slight smile curving on her lips.

“Of course,” he responds. “The chief’s over there talking with the commissioner. He’s the same guy who made your life difficult the last time we were in Milwaukee.”

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up, and she nods. “I didn’t think you were listening.”

“I think he just got lucky,” Morgan cuts in, his gaze darting over to you momentarily. “I think you were too focused on our drinks.”

Reid frowns. “I don’t think he was focused on the drinks. He’s—”

“Just making sure they’re still coming,” Hotch interrupts, and he straightens his tie. Today really has been a long one—usually, he’s better at covering these things up. “And I wasn’t lucky. I was listening.”

“Trust me,” Morgan says with a laugh, “I’m watchin’ her until I’ve got a glass in my hand. She’s not getting out of this after the way she bragged this whole month.”

“The stupidest thing to make a bet on,” Prentiss remarks, “especially with you.”

“She said she just wanted to prove you wrong,” Reid contributes. “She thinks you’re too cocky.”

Morgan grins. “It’s not cocky if you can back it up.”

Hotch’s attention goes back to you, and you’ve finally gotten their drinks. You’re loading them onto a tray like you’re the bartender yourself, and his brows crease. Maybe he should have gone up with you.

“Do you think she needs help?” he asks. How obvious is too obvious? Why does it feel like his brain only works at half power whenever it comes to you?

“She’ll be fine,” Prentiss says. “And if she needs it, that guy talking her up can help.”

“Jason Rodriguez,” Reid remarks. “He hung around her the whole time we were trying to pinpoint a location, and he wasn’t any help, which makes sense because he's practically desk-bound at the precinct. I’m surprised she got any work done.”

JJ chuckles. “I’m surprised he hasn’t given up yet. He’s been following her around all week, like some lost puppy.”

Morgan shrugs. “I dunno. She seems pretty into him.”

“I don’t think ex-frat boys are her type,” Prentiss says wryly. Hotch doesn’t think so either, but he doesn’t say anything. Contributing to this kind of conversation is certainly too obvious.

“I doubt we’ll be back here for a while. She might as well.” Morgan smiled. “She probably needs a win after such an embarrassing loss.”

Thankfully, before Hotch has to keep pretending not to care about this topic, you walk over carrying a tray of cocktails—and you’re alone. The subject of their previous conversation seems lost in the crowd, and he feels a dangerous amount of relief.

“Are you all talking about me?” you drawl.

“You know we are, sweetheart. Thought you were never gonna get here.” Morgan sits up, smiling at you. “What’d my win get us?”

“Long Island Iced Teas,” you muse as you set the tray down. “Enjoy it, because I’m gonna be working some overtime to make up for all these.”

Morgan grins as he takes his drink. “You should’ve never doubted my skills.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t need any help,” Prentiss says. “You’ve done this before, huh?”

“Bartended my way through college.” You slide into the booth next to Hotch, just a bit too close for a bit too long, and he hopes that no one can see his chest still for a moment. It’s impressive that he still hasn’t figured out how to lessen the effect you have on him. “I’ve probably got better hands than you, Morgan.”

“Do we need to make another bet?” he asks. “Because I’d love to clean out your wallet.”

“Maybe wait another month before you prey on any more poor, defenseless agents,” you croon, and Morgan laughs.

He pivots the conversation away from you when you pick up your drink and take a sip, and you look at Hotch. Whenever your gaze is on him, you make him feel like he’s the only person in the room. He’s sure you never look at anyone else that way, but Hotch wonders how much of that is his mind trying to justify his imagination.

“I’m surprised you agreed with this,” you say, mercifully interrupting his thoughts. “I thought you’d want us to go back tonight.”

“You all earned a night out after the work you did,” Hotch says. He thinks about taking a drink, but he decides against it, at least for now. He can barely trust his sober mind.

“You’ve earned it too,” you say. “We wouldn’t be anywhere without you, Hotch. You keep us all together.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I ever would’ve connected the dots like you and Reid can with Garcia. I hate unsubs with secret codes.”

“I’ve always liked puzzles,” you muse. “There’s nothin’ like it when it all finally clicks.”

Hotch hums, and for a moment, he’s silent. Your gaze remains fully on him, and that might be why he has trouble thinking. It’s too easy to get lost in your eyes.

“What did that guy say?” Hotch finally manages to ask, because he honestly can’t help it. Morgan’s points actually worried him a bit, and he wonders what that says about him. Ex-frat boy certainly isn’t your type, but someone forgettable for a one night stand isn’t the most absurd thing in the world.

Your brows knit together as you drink some more. “What guy?”

“The officer you were talking with,” he says. “He seemed to like you.”

He’d been flirting with you since the moment you stepped into the precinct, actually, desperate for your attention, but Hotch didn’t really want to say that. He’s sure you noticed either way, if the rest of the team did.

“Oh. Him.” You shrug. “He’s nice, I guess. Definitely a looker. But he’s got nothing beneath that hair.”

“Morgan’s surprised you didn’t bring him back,” Hotch says. He wonders if he’s pushing too much, and again, he feels like a highschooler testing the waters. Do you know what you do to him? What you reduce him to?

You shrug as you take a sip. “If he knows what’s good for him, he knows he doesn’t have a chance. My attention’s on someone else.”

Prentiss calls your name and you get drawn back into the middle of the team’s conversation, and thankfully, Hotch has a chance to digest your words—and the stunner of a smile you flash at him before you get pulled into their talk.

His decision to not drink seems even wiser, now. Hotch has to loosen his tie, and he ignores Reid watching him. It’s futile trying to hide anything from Spencer Reid—the kid already knows everything.

Again, it's dangerous how much satisfaction he gets from it—from knowing you never really paid that officer a second thought. You didn’t smile at him the way you smile at Hotch. You don’t smile at anyone the way you smile at Hotch. He thought he was imagining it at first, or that he was just a bit too stuck up, but it was the honest truth. You paid him special attention, and he couldn’t blame the warmth in his chest from the thought on any alcohol.

He tunes back into the conversation just to hear Morgan demand you pay for his next drink.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you say.

He puts a hand to his chest. “Generous? You’re just paying what you owe me.”

You laugh and shake your head. “Pick your poison, pretty boy.”

“How do you feel about tequila?”

You make a noise of disgust and shake your head. “As long as I don’t have to drink it.”

“You’re just paying, sweetheart.” Morgan’s eyes dart to Hotch, and he nods as he grins. “One for me and our fearless leader.”

Hotch shakes his head. “Someone has to get us back to the hotel.”

“That’s what cabs are for!” Prentiss exclaims. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Hotchner. You deserve to let a little loose.”

“It takes most people an hour to process a drink,” Reid contributes, “so you’ll be fine before we leave if you want to drive.”

“Come on, Hotch,” you say, and you nudge his shoulder. “You might as well—I’m paying.”

“...Fine,” he says, and the whole team cheers. Even Reid smiles.

“Y’know, you can smile tonight, Hotch,” you say with one of your own before you down the rest of your drink and stand up.

And one actually tugs at his lips. It feels a lot hotter in this bar with your eyes sparkling and you beaming right at him, and he fights the need to shed his jacket. Your grin somehow grows.

“That’s what I came out to see,” you remark as you pick your wallet back up from the table. “I expect another when I get back, Hotch. There’s a lot to celebrate tonight.”

Yeah, he thinks as he watches you go. There just might be.

#me ignoring all my wips for a hot man?? it's more likely than you think #also ive listened to too sweet on repeat for like 3 hours i dont want to take my whiskey neat anymore #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner imagine #sadie writes

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oocsydney · 5 months

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this is more or less just a late night personal anecdote (so please forgive my rambling), but hbomb's plagiarism video got me thinking the differences between journalism and marketing

during my undergrad in journalism, I was required to take an ethics course. we learned how to write our own code of ethics, as well as the core tenants in the SPJ Code of Ethics.

it was honestly one of the most invaluable courses I've ever taken in my life, and not only did I learn a lot about journalism through it, but I learned a lot about myself and what kind of person I wanted to be

then, when I studied marketing in grad school, I remember asking one of my marketing professors about ethics in marketing, and I remember him saying:

"ethical marketers starve."

I still think about that to this day. It's one of the main reasons why (despite having a master's in marketing) I did not pursue that field out of grad school

not to say that all marketers are unethical, I'm sure there are ethical ones that exist. but the fields of journalism and marketing are so diametrically opposed to each other, and the reason is because of ethics. one field is (or should be) in the pursuit of truth. The other is in the pursuit of profit.

the James Somertons (self-proclaimed marketers) of the world likely never consider the ethics of their work, but instead behave like marketers: try to appeal to the masses and sell themselves, try to get as many subscribers as possible, have fancy sets and lighting and props in his videos, churn out as many videos as possible to stay relevant in the YouTube algorithm at all costs, be "controversial" (even though most of his words were stolen or misogynistic or straight up lies).

our world is so centered on the idea of profit and self-attainment that we forget to ask ourselves if we're being decent human beings. I wholeheartedly believe that it's possible to be ethical AND successful, all while lifting up our fellow creators and writers without stealing from them. no one has to starve.

#hbomberguy #james somerton #this is mainly just me rambling #but i do wish it was required as an area of study for a lot of business schools #also i was falling asleep writing this so enjoy my sleepy hot takes lol

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comradekatara · 6 months

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look. im not saying hakoda is a bad father. he clearly loves his kids a lot and did the best he could in abject conditions. but “being a man is knowing where you’re needed the most” are pretty bold words coming from a man who left his children behind in an extremely precarious environment with no protection or way to defend themselves from the pretty regular raids that their people are subjected to. like, i get that he had to lead the swt into battle as their chief, and also why he wouldn’t wanna stay at the site of his wife’s murder, but none of the men were like “maybe some of us could stand to stay behind to defend our village, i don’t really think this prepubescent kid who lacks support and experience is actually qualified for that job.” and somehow hakoda also managed to phrase that choice to sokka in such a way that fostered a maelstrom of interwoven masculinity, identity, self-esteem, and existential issues that he will never be able to fully disentangle because he idolizes his father far too much to acknowledge that perhaps that time hakoda told him as a child that his manhood is staked to his obligation to die for his sister was actually pretty fucked up. so he’s not exactly father of the year either.

#but to be clear im not saying this is a bad writing choice i think it’s awesome actually #and ive talked before abt how hakoda is not at fault for internalizing self-dehumanizing logic as a colonial subject #but like. poor sokka #if i think abt how fucked up his martyr complex is for too long i black out!#hakoda #sokka #hot takes #hakoda&sokka

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