#and also make him even more tragic and terrifying

[animechaosbean]

Massive TADC Ep 6 Spoilers (in case the tags fail me)

I feel like working through Caine, Jax, Ragatha, and Zoobles traumas is gonna be a major focus going forward. That parts pretty par for the course with this show. What's really interesting is that ep 6 clearly put them into camps as to how their traumas are effecting them.

Caine and Ragatha clearly want to be liked, they want people to depend on them and value them. Ragatha descends further into an existential crisis when Pomni starts hanging out with other people, and Caine seems genuinely lost. He's built to make adventures, but when the humans dont want *his* adventures, he has no idea how to process this. Him looking at that Polaroid of C&A headquarters (maybe a stack of them?) and his desperation to win the Favorite Character Award really hammer home his loneliness and isolation from a cast he's steadily drifting away from.

Zooble and Jax, meanwhile, seemingly want people to be their best selves, to like who they are and have fun while they're here; and yet, they both seem to be ignoring their deep self hatred and fear of attachment. Zooble is way, way healthier here, being the cool badass friend that we all need. They're confident, look out for softer characters like Gangle and Pomni, and refuse to take anyone's bullshit. And yet, that shot of them looking at their hand, as well as their constant struggle to find the right pieces and finally feel whole, really hint that their battle with body dysmorphia may be a lot darker and a lot harder than they let on. There's also a really interesting through line of Zooble, on some level, understanding or sympathizing with Caine. There's a couple of shots where Caine is ranting about his frustrations and Zooble just looks kinda sad or empathetic, as well as their arguments carrying less hatred and more of a feel of lost friendship. That last part, currently at least, may be a bit of a stretch.

And then there's Jax, ho boy. (...heh). Jax is clearly a deeply broken man, and the past two eps have really shown how tragic that is and how dangerous that can be. He's the funny one, the Joker or Bugs Bunny to this mad cast, and we see him just be an unapologetic dick. He torments Gangle, clashes with Zooble and Ragatha, enables Caines more chaotic tendencies, and just likes causing pure, unfiltered chaos. He would start a fire just to see it burn. Yet episodes 5 and 6 have really dug into what makes him tick as a character, and how that ideology of being "the funny one" and thriving on chaos is genuinely killing him. In his tirade at Pomni at the end of the game, he tries so hard to make her, us as the audience, and, seemingly, himself believe that he doesn't give a damn about any one. He's here for the chaos, to screw with everyone, to do what he wants as a cartoon character until the end of time. Humanity? There is no humanity here. No one and nothing can be saved here, so why not be who you want to be, consequences be damned?

But we see time and time again that this facade is crumbling. He genuinely enjoys hanging out with Pomni, and let's Pomni healthily express a side of herself that it feels like no one else would really get. They chat about stuff he, seemingly, hasn't shared with anyone else, his fear of corn, some neat stuff about the circus, his genuine philosophy on life here; they vibe in a way that, likely outside of Ribbit and Kaufmo, no other character has bothered to with him. Even in his rant, when he's trying to push Pomni away, put up his walls again, he admits that he's gonna regret sharing that much "in the morning." There's a connection here that he's absolutely terrified of. There's also that interesting moment when he physically pushes Pomni away and, like Zooble earlier, starts just staring at his hand. He seems to be stuck between wanting Pomni to stay away but, for the first time with anyone on screen, being afraid of hurting her.

Episode 6 is also a prime example of how dangerous these building self hatreds can be. Ragatha just spirals, Zooble seems about to open up about a lot of their troubles, but Jax and Caine are more violent, they're more unstable. Caine is quickly losing the lovable ego he's had for most of the show, facing rejection and criticism time and time again when, before, the cast used to just accept his adventures. Even in the very meta (and questionably canon) social media campaigns, he's losing his spark and coming across as more and more desperate to be the favorite. The Favorite Character Awards had him try to clumsily rig it, be elated when it seemed like he won, and then become the butt of his own joke when Ming won. He's losing confidence and the will to even make adventures, and the more unsure he becomes the more unstable the Circus as a whole becomes. Jax, meanwhile, let's his blossoming friendship with Pomni get so under his skin that he nearly abstracts. His panic attack at the awards show is visceral and shows how, just like Caine with the adventures, just like Ragatha and helping others, just like Zooble and their body dysmorphia, his identity is becoming less and less certain. And what seems to terrify him is that the change in who he is may be a good thing.

Whew this got really long I apologize. Other small things: Zooble and Pomni are probably the key to getting through to Jax, Kinger is the best boy and almost certainly marked for death, I cannot tell who's gonna abstract next anymore.

[jeanjwould]

every addition i make to the plot just makes duke sadder and also so much worse.

[avelera]

I’m re-listening to The Vampire Lestat audiobook right now, and it has in it a stunning and timely reminder that Armand is one of the most powerful telepaths of all time amongst vampires.

… which is to say that at no time while Daniel was clumsily pretending to be taking notes instead of messaging the Talamasca (something even a non telepath could have spotted DANIEL YOU ARE BAD AT THIS) or when Daniel was getting ready for his big Columbo-style “Just one more thing” reveal of the stunning extent of Armand’s betrayal, at NO POINT would Armand not have seen that coming.

Daniel has no telepathic defenses. Louis casually invades his mind at will but Armand is literally so powerful that at his level you are just constantly receiving ambient thoughts unless you block them out. When Armand goes into people’s memories he can see stuff from YEARS before with absolute ease. If Louis is a microphone, Armand is a goddamn satellite dish, the kind they use to listen for sounds coming from space.

My point being that we’ve all followed Daniel’s reasoning throughout that Armand’s far too powerful to not be lying when he said he couldn’t prevent it. Indeed, he was the director of the tragedy, all while wearing a stunned, slightly saddened expression when the tragedy finally occurred as (he) planned.

An expression much like the stunned, slightly saddened one he wears when he is “caught” in his lies by Daniel, who poses about as much threat to a vampire who can read every thought in your head back to the day you were born and can actively puppeteer humans to say whatever he wants or even stop time for them, as Sam the Vampire was a threat to Armand with his theater prop scythe.

Armand is not caught off guard by Daniel’s reveal. He knew what Daniel was going to say before Daniel said it. Quite possibly weeks or years before he said it, because IMO Armand is once again the director of his own violent breakup with his companion(s) of decades, because that’s how this motherfucker rolls.

[foolish-fran]

On Volt

So like many people, I recently played Date Everything and have been obsessed with it ever since. Volt is my favorite character in it by a long shot; I love his voice, I love his design, I love his charm, I love the way he calls the player "live wire."

And perhaps most of all, I love his depth. There's a lot of complexity to his character that I feel isn't explored nearly as often as it should be. Because he's a lot more than just the charismatic showman he appears to be on the surface. He's a multifaceted character, and a tragic one.

First off, his charming, flashy persona is a facade. It's a distraction, a shield, a coping mechanism. He wants to be in the spotlight, to keep people looking on him, to have eyes on him- because if everyone is focused on him, than he can distract from the problems behind the scenes. He can keep people from seeing how much the Breaker Box club is really breaking down beneath the flashy veneer. And he can make sure that Eddie is safe, that he can fly under the radar and fix things without being disturbed. If he always has an easy smile on his face, than no one will ever see how badly things are crumbling beneath the surface. If he keeps people looking at him, Eddie will be safe.

He's also protective of Eddie. It's one of his defining traits, and one I find very endearing. At first glance, he's charismatic, suave, flamboyant, but bring Eddie into the picture, and he's a force to be reckoned with. Everything he does is for Eddie's sake, and the idea of anything happening to him is terrifying.

It's tragic how much he's willing to sacrifice for Eddie's sake. He just keeps going, keeps performing, keeps up the act even when he's literally on the verge of death. Even as the power flickers and wanes, he still tries to power through his on-stage announcements and keep up the persona.

He sees himself as a burden on Eddie, because sustaining him is wearing Eddie down. He doesn't let anyone see him falter or break, see how weak he really is. And he's fully willing to let himself die if it means that Eddie will be better off. It's tragic. He's such a deeply tragic character and it just makes me adore him all the more. Volt, the man that you are.

Anyway, TLDR: Volt is a deeper and more interesting character than the fandom gives him credit for. I love him.

[evilminji]

"DO BETTER!" Says Now Televised Fanboy

He, Dash Baxter is a Phan-Stan!! It's kinda his thing. See, he's a fancy ass talk show host now. Married Paulie, moved out of Amity, actually DID something with his life. His parents? Did not approve. Long n short of it? He got kicked out.

Paulie's parents were PISSED.

Retaliated by giving him all the help he needed getting EVERY scholarship he qualified for. He went to a really nice college. Missed his girlfriend like mad. But she was off in Metropolis, terrifying weaker men. Conquering the fashion scene.

And SOMEHOW? Thanks to that long talk he had with Phantom (*incoherent fanboy gibbering noises* SO COOL!) he's worked to be... more of a LEADER, you know? Less of an asshole. Cause he's popular. People copy him. He can't be an asshole.

So, somehow, when he's punching out some try-hard that thinks he's hot shit for bullying a Nerd? He and the nerd get talking, right? Cause the guy got his glasses completely fucked up. And it's what Phantom would do.

But GET THIS? Guy's never HEARD of Phantom! Is super curious, cause he runs a small time Hero's show on the web. And, Dude? Is it your LUCKY DAY! Cause you just met THE number 1 fan of Phantom, hands down!! He makes his VERY spirited case, about why Phantom is THE best Hero to ever have lived. And this guy?

Entranced.

In AWE.

Just straight up BEGS him to join his show. Cause apparently? He was BORN for it. Which? Yeah. He HAS been giving speechs to the team for YEARS now. And Talking at fan meet ups. Leading fan meet ups. Hosting parties... actually, now that he thinks about it? He DOES do a lot of public speaking? Huh.

But still, he's about to say "no", when?

Dude mentions? He'll get to talk about Phantom.

SOLD!

It. Blows. Up. Absolutely EVERYONE is in love with his pretty face, hot bod, and STRONG opinions. But they ALSO have no idea who Phantom is! Paulie! This is CRIMINAL! Horrifying! What is going ON!?

Some bullshit information black out, apparently. At least according to her... friendly Nemesis? The Goth Dweeb. Who's engaged, apparently? So good for her. Unsurprisingly, it's too the OTHER Dweebs, but still. Bout time she started planning to drag them to a court house. She's the only one with any spine in that group! If she waited for THEM to propose?

Not even as Ghosts, man.

They'd get distracted by shiny nerd shit and whimp out.

Still... a world where NO ONE knows how Awesome, Phantom is? Not on HIS watch!

So he works it in. To every segment. It becomes "his thing". Oh? Super man saved a kitten from a tree? Cute. Well PHANTOM saved a bus full of Ghost Puppies from a shady, rouge, Goverment agency. Do BETTER, Superman!

The Flash, who is a cheap knock-off and stole his name, took down an Ice Villian? Adorable! PHANTOM stopped a Rouge WINTER SPIRIT with the help of YETI WARRIORS then assisted in giving FREE medical care for anyone who needed it! Here's a picture of him making GHOST ICE SNOWMEN for small children! Do BETTER, Knock-off!

What's THAT you say? Wonder Woman fought a GOD in down town paris?

Excellent work Wonder Woman. Flawless as always. But YOU, god-boy, are a disappointment! All that power! And WHAT do you use it for? Are you even supposed to BE here?? PHANTOM uses his power to HELP people! Is awesome and knows TONS of better gods! You're just salty you didn't make the cut!

DO BETTER!

And obviously? No one believes him. There's no record of this "Phantom" guy. The pictures look fantastical and vaguely glitchy/glowy. Not quite right. They GOTTA be photo shopped. Manipulated somehow. But? As a shtick? A fake "perfect Superhero" is kinda funny and unique.

And it's one hell of Fake Hero!

A Dead Champion? Who fights gods and monsters? Rouge agencies? Sassy and tragic? With a mysterious past? Pretty cool! There's even an Offical Comic from some guy that went to the same high-school as Baxter!

Of course, as Baxter get more and more popular? The "meme" hero, Phantom, get more well known? People get more interested in where Dash grew up. You know, just a bored Google. Maybe see if the hero was based off a local legend or something. But... huh...

The Town website?

Weirdly? Sanitized.

Like... like aggressively sanitized. All smooth edges and no details. Very "move along, citizen". Ha ha... it's part of the joke right? They get it! They'll just look up local restaurants or som-....

Wait...

Hey, guuuuys?

Are you finding ANYTHING?

And! Nothing. And I do mean NOTHING! Triggers the "oh? Secrets???" Instincts of a Hacker, like finding a hard blank wall of "KEEP OUT". Especially when it's somewhere it rightfully shouldn't BE.

All it would take? Is ONE person, of decent skills and an account on Certain Forums, getting bored enough to Google the Dude On The TV(TM)? For the GIW's lil walls to come crashing down. Because yeah, you can stop ONE hacker. Even two. Probably five or six.

But how about thousands?

Hundreds of thousands?

From every time zone. Competing. Just to see what you HAVE and don't want them to see. Maybe they do something with it, maybe they don't. But fuck it, you're being RUDE and now they're CURIOUS. And THEN? Oh. Oh holy shit.

Not a meme.

Very real.

Not a joke.

The walls come crumbling down, down, down. Ripped apart by hundreds of hands. Emails sent to every sort of agency. The JLU line inundated with emergency tips. Not a joke. Not A Joke. Holy Shit, IT WASN'T A JOKE!

Phantom is REAL!

And there, on TV, stands the Man. The signal FINALLY breaching containment. Fighting off the invading God of the week. Built like statue, hair like an aurora borealis of white fire held almost delicately in place by a CROWN of ice, a suit made of void and starlight. Inhuman. Beyond human.

Here to help.

A laugh that crackles like ice and the snap of winter, rolls through the air like coming storms, rich and somehow warm. A smile that bares teeth, yet turns so KIND when he looks upon humanity, as though we are precious and worth fighting for. A living star.

A... a once living star.

And in the center of it all? Wearing his BESPOKE, custome made, Number 1 Phan full body outfit? That's right. Dash Baxter. Ha! You fuckers doubted him! Behold his blorbo and WEEP, ya fuckin casuals! The BESTEST of boys! The FINEST of Heros! Superman? Could NEVER.

And now? The weather!

@babbling-babull @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation

[ewnamored]

hi congrats for 1k!! I was wondering if you could do prompt 13."I love marking your skin" with mydeimos, please :)

#13. “I love marking your skin.” for my 1k special.

cw: afab reader, non-consensual spanking and fingering, manhandling, implied past non-con, a few cuts with his gauntlets, forced relationship, orgasm denial. Word count: 2,2k.

Note: thank you for your support!

Gambling with Mydei’s anger and its usual results has given you too much space for overconfidence. Despite what one might think, he doesn’t resort to violence unless he is facing some kind of threat toward Amphoreus or you, for that matter — especially you. 

His patience is better than anticipated by you initially. You make a fuss, he holds you down until you’re a worn-out-thing. You yell at and insult him, he gives you a warning look that is enough to stop you in materializing your precarious choice. You attack him, he easily overpowers you; also treating your hostility like a kitten bite. 

Until push comes to shove. Your actions, which evolved into a grandiose (tragic) escape attempt, have accumulated into a poison that Mydei sees as a clear message for him — you have absolutely no respect for him or his affection.

You’re ungrateful in his eyes regardless of whether you have ever asked him to take care of you or not. Aren’t you aware you’re a meat to be eaten by all kinds of hyenas?

Seeking out help from someone like Krateros was a cherry on top of your insolence. And you’re waiting for this prince judge’s verdict, alone in the room after he left to cool down far away from you, a candidate for a training dummy. This time, you have a gut feeling he’s not going to let you get away with your offense; the angry molecules in the air linger after he dropped you here, quite literally at that. Mydei had never outright punished you and that terrifies you. Apparently, there’s a thin line between him doing and not doing that. He’ll let you be but one time he doesn’t, it feels as if whatever awaits you is the essence for all those times he didn’t bring consequences.

You’re sitting on pins and needles, even your heart not willing to escape again despite its mad drumming against your chest cavity. Your breath is condensed with fear; all of the remains of anger as a keepsake for isolating you here only amplify the first, bringing sensitivity to your ears now paranoid by every shuffling sound. There’s a mirror lit by the candle in the mirror you eagerly avoid looking at, concerned you’ll see your image melting.

And then the lion storms into the room. You are scared to look up from the floor, and so every step towards you that’s heard sounds like a pounding. He stops in front of you, before he hoists your chin up with only one metal finger.

“You’re in trouble.” That short sentence is enough for your thoughts to go haywire. There’s no defiance left if all of the brain is kept hostage by processing and catastrophising the implication.

“No, Mydei, please, we can talk—”

“Talk?” he scoffs and mocks. “TALK?” he repeats with loud disgust as he pins you down to bed, so hard your head almost hits the wood behind it. Your wide eyes quiver. “I’ve given you many occasions for diplomatic talk. You never took them. Forgive me if I believe I had enough of your immaturity. You leave me no choice but to make you listen to me somehow.”

You trash under him — it’s all useless, as always, just being a human who doesn’t know when pride isn’t being brave but self-destruction more often than it’s grounding. He always overpowers you, and every clash with Mydei poses a risk of getting the warrior overly excited, which might develop into something else for him to blow off steam.

“Mydei, what are you doing?” with the implication given, you are at last nothing beside a coward.

“I used to believe violence is deserved only towards enemies. That hurting someone physically is a bad thing, doesn’t rectify anything. Alas, there’s a likelihood you’re the exception—” you want to vomit, realizing what’s about to come, “maybe it’s the only thing left for me, since anything else doesn’t make you listen.”

“No, Mydei, please, you’ll hurt me, not teach me—” you condemn your pride to beg.

“I will cause pain. But it’s for your own good, not wrought with an intention to cause real harm to you,” he sighs heavily as if it’s weighing on his conscience, even if he’s making the reasoning sound like an excuse to you. That holier-than-thou attitude of his will be your demise.

You want to promise you’ll be good, sweet even for him and sound genuine about it; however, he steals that from you when he maneuvers you onto your belly next breath. Your head you try to lift, he shoves into the mattress.

Your hands swing to push back at him; he grabs one and other to pin them above your hand. He doesn’t need to put on crushing weight to hold them with ease; yet it hurts anyway, as he still has his gauntlets on. The gloves are heavy and the metal digs into your skin uncomfortably, you are frozen with worry he will break your wrists should you struggle too much.

His other hand essentially tears your bottom clothes, then moves to squeeze your flesh, thereupon puncturing it with the sharp claws. Your legs kick from the sudden dose of pain and vulnerability nudeness brings; he has to sit down on the apex of the back of your thighs so you don’t move around too much and hurt yourself profusely. Unfortunately, his claws still draw small cuts and blood; you don’t see them but you feel the sting and warm drip on your ass.

“Stop squirming or I’ll cut you badly.” His tone, either feigned or honest, doesn’t seem perturbed by the causing of your small wounds; it’s what you owe him. 

“Mydei, your armor, you’re not seriously going to use them, right?” you prompt into the pillow. Nothing substantial has yet started and yet you’re already willing to cry; Mydei is as scary as they say.

“Why shouldn’t I? After all, I love marking your skin. It’s the only time you express something other than disregard for me. Even if it’s usually laced with pleasure, not fear, the latter might be for the better… at least you’ll learn how to behave.” You can’t distinguish the teasing undertone and the harsh sternness in terms of if he’ll comply with the usage of his equipment.

He lets go of your poor body for a second to remove and throw them to the side, heavy clink following. Mydei still has enough patience to remove those horrific gauntlets so as to not make each spank feel like a good punch. But the die has been cast and you are still in for a painful experience.

Your arms are able to wriggle again, but due to him occupying your thighs with the heavy boulder his muscular body is, you’re not in control to stop what comes next — a heavy slap onto your cheek,with the smacking sound followed by your distressed moan. A bleeding and already stinging cheek is a recipe for causing the pain to be doubled when his palm’s skin connects with yours like a whip; and Mydei is packing quite a hit. Your head jolts upward and he shoves it down again.

Your legs flail again, successfully hitting his back with your calves eventually; it’s just that there’s no reaction from the man greatly immune to injuries. His free hand connects with your waist and keeps your torso down.

“You really are a brat. Kicking even when you’re like a prey pinned under me. Little bunny,” you are beginning to get the idea he’s trying to insult you until you’re insecure about your weakness. It might prove to be effective as you’re now rethinking your every prior choice.

A rascal would insult him back, if only it were possible as he slaps your other cheek for a good measure. You cry out, finally allowing yourself to shed tears; maybe they’ll soil the sheets and sprout a safety cocoon. It’s not about pain only if also from the sheer terror; it’s moments like this when you remember how easily he could crush you as if you were a bug.

“Please, Mydei, I really won’t do it again…! I learned my lesson already!”

“Did you?” he stops hitting you but it’s not on account of your request. He’s gauging how much you can take before you’d break, if you can take, and how much he’d regret crossing some line with you. He’s still in control and that’s actually terrifying — he’s deeply self-aware of what he’s doing to you and he’s doing it like it’s important to your future existence by his side. “Because I don’t think you did. All you are is a coward trying to escape the dirt you gathered, and your assigned penalty for it,” he scolds and his voice booms against the walls; it’s a snarl speaking of his disappointment for you.

“Because you’re keeping me here against my will!” you’re back on the track of saying no, angry and humiliated even through your tears. It’s not some repartee you’re allowed so your words land you another slap.

“There you go, the real you. The one who still doesn’t understand I’m doing this to keep them safe,” he’s mad that you’re mad he has to spank your ass again, twice harder than you punch your fist at the bed from both dulling and stinging hurt. This time after, he rubs your darkening flesh, except his nails ‘accidentally’ graze your cuts so you don’t stay too hopeful for mercy. You choke on your tears.

You don’t even bother to try to explain why it’s not him keeping you safe; at least, not the way it should be proceeding.

You cry for a break, he spanks you on both sides, you insult him again, he spanks you in succession of two hits. Your fresh cuts aren’t given a second to start growing a scab. “It hurts!” Anytime you lift your head up, he’s shutting you up by forcing it down. His weight additionally hijacks your breath, you’re almost hyperventilating with your ongoing sobs.

It must have been dozens of slaps against your backside when he finally slows down — still doesn’t stop yet, no matter you think you could pass out from pain. He doesn’t do that for your sake either — his thumb hooks around your bare hole, while the pointing finger presses onto your clit. You nearly forgot the sight he must have when sitting on top of you.

“M-Mydei, what are you—” you’re momentarily pulled away from your tears, and as you gather enough courage to crane your head if it cannot be lifted, you try to peer at him. What you see is not his focused and wild gaze of the punishment deliverer – he’s becoming mischievous about something.

“What? Weren’t you crying about my hand being too painful? I’m merely helping you take it.” You doubt that’s the case, especially when his tone is all the same scornful.

His thumb finally dives in, although shallowly, and your clit is rubbed. He spanks you again and it’s true that it feels less painful when pleasure creeping in is somewhat soothing, even if intrusive and mortifying as always. He thrusts his finger in and out slowly, pinches your bud a little, your toes curl as you squirm.

“A few more and I’ll let you rest. Don’t be a crybaby when you’ve been barely scratched,” he warns you, thankfully less intensely at this point. He’s clearly satisfied with the results, as seeing your meek form makes him hopeful you’ll listen from now; even if only to avoid the repeat of your punishment.

He spanks your round flesh a few more times, with that, your pleasure is growing and you’re nearly there. You’re greedy, chasing that one moment of relief where the pleasure inebriates your nerves and renders you dumb by the humping of your hips. What hurts becomes duller merely from the denial your hedonism brings.

Your tears are less, you’re lying on his bed limply, wishing he’ll like you better as such and give you what you need. “Are you really going to finish when I’m doing this to you?” he teases you, not far from gentle. It’s embarrassing you’re feeling good, you’d like to argue it’s him who wanted that, but all you can do is beg for the release.

It all comes to ruin when he slaps you one more time, the hardest he could give, and offers no comfort after — his fingers withdraw right as you’re about to peak. You begin to sob again, aching, ashamed, and frustrated.

“Now, now. You shouldn’t have assumed I’d truly reward you for taking discipline you earned. But you’re okay, you’ll forget about it tomorrow — you only need to remember this lesson,” with the patronizing tone, he rubs your back as he says his nonchalance.

You’re sobbing like a baby, you’re bleeding like a sacrifice to him, and yet he still goes back to treating you gently. It’s disgusting when he helps you turn around and places you on your side carefully. It’s intrusive when he grabs and holds you.  It’s violating when he kisses your nose and tells you you’re not leaving him.

[spitefulsatanfics]

𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞...

— by little devil 🕯️

pairing: castiel x she/her reader

tone: angelic awkwardness, holy fluff, tragic beauty, tender devotion

genre: canon-compliant headcanon list told through mini fanfiction scenes

rating: pg-13 for themes of eternity, gentle touches, and celestial simping

synopsis: loving an angel isn’t like loving a person—it’s like being seen for the first time in your whole damn life.

🌌 Endless, Unwavering Staring

You’ve asked him why he does it. The staring.

He tilts his head, confused.

“You are… captivating,” he says. “I’m literally brushing my teeth, Cas.” “Yes. I am aware.”

No matter the time, the place, or the state of your bedhead, Castiel stares at you like you are the only thing keeping the universe from crumbling. And maybe—just maybe—you are.

📿 That Old Testament Flavor of Devotion

He doesn’t love like a man. He loves like a declaration.

“I would fall again,” he says, quiet, sure. “For you. If Heaven demanded otherwise—I would choose you.”

You freeze, soup spoon halfway to your mouth.

“Cas. I’m just sick. You don’t have to make it biblical.”

But that’s the thing. With Castiel, everything is.

☁️ Trying to Teach Him Pop Culture with Deeply Mixed Results

“That is… a SpongeBob.” “Correct!” “He lives in a fruit?” “Technically a sea sponge in a pineapple under the sea, yeah.” “This is absurd.” “…You love it.” “…I do.”

He once recited “the Krabby Patty secret formula is love” during a demon interrogation. Dean still hasn’t recovered.

🕰️ Being Gently Out of Step with Time but Always on Time for You

He doesn’t sleep, doesn’t eat, doesn’t really understand mortality.

But somehow, he always knows when your hands start shaking, when the nightmares hit, when the weight of everything becomes too much.

“You do not need to be strong tonight,” he murmurs, wrapping his coat around you. “Just rest. I will carry it for now.”

🕊️ Accidentally Saying the Most Romantic Things in the Universe

Like, he really doesn’t mean to go so hard. He’s just… built that way.

“I studied your soul once,” he tells you one night, voice low and reverent. “It’s brighter than anything I’ve seen in Heaven.”

You: 🧍‍♀️ Also you: dead on the floor, heart exploded, ascended to the astral plane

🔥 Moments of Terrifying, Blazing Power—But He’ll Never Hurt You

When Cas is angry, the air changes.

Demons scatter. Lights flicker. The Earth holds its breath.

But when he looks at you?

His hands shake, soft and unsure, wings tucked in like he’s afraid of brushing against your light.

“Even at my most powerful,” he whispers, “you make me feel… human.”

🥪 Trying Human Things Just Because You Like Them

He doesn’t need food. But when you offer him a bite of your sandwich, he takes it.

Chews.

Blushes.

“This is... pleasant.” “It’s grilled cheese, babe.” “Then I would like… more grilled cheese. With you.”

He eats it awkwardly, angelic hands too big for the plate, and you have never loved anyone more.

📖 Reading Scripture and Lore with You—and Occasionally Correcting It

He reads over your shoulder, brow furrowed.

“That’s… not accurate.” “What, this Latin exorcism?” “No, the depiction of Uriel. He wasn’t nearly that tall. Or kind.” “Cas, it’s fanfiction.” “It is… fanfiction of Heaven?” “Yeah. And apparently Gabriel's hot now.” “…He will be insufferable when he finds out.”

🌿 Flowers Left in Strange Places

He doesn’t buy bouquets. He materializes them.

Sometimes it’s a single daisy on your dashboard. Sometimes an entire garden blooms outside your motel room.

“I thought you needed… beauty.” “Cas. You made tulips grow in the carpet.” “Do you like them?” “…Yeah, actually.”

💬 Deep Conversations at Inconvenient Hours

You: half-asleep at 2am Cas: watching the ceiling

“Y/N, do you believe fate can be rewritten?” “Cas it is literally 2—” “If I was made for obedience… then why do I desire free will with you?” “…Okay hang on let me get tea.”

🕯️ Making You Feel Like a Living Prayer

When Castiel touches you—your hand, your cheek, your waist—it’s not just affection. It’s reverence.

“You are not just a person to me,” he confesses, voice low. “You are… a beacon. Something sacred.”

You’ve been many things. But never sacred. Until now.

🌟 Wings Unfurled Only for You

You ask him to show you once. He hesitates.

“They are… damaged.” “So am I,” you reply. “Doesn’t mean I’m not beautiful.”

He unfolds them in the dark—burned, broken, glorious.

You swear you can feel them against your skin like the warmth of a dying star.

𓆩☁️𓆪 Castiel loves like cathedral bells in the distance, like the hush after prayer, like starlight on skin.

He does not know how to love halfway. He only knows forever. And he chose you.

𓆩☁️𓆪

[see-arcane]

You know the one good thing about being a pessimist?

It feels great to be proven wrong.

Bravo, Bobby Egg.

I was so happily surprised by this. This film went through a fantastic puberty between the leaked script and the screen. The main points to note:

-No, Ellen is not hot for Count Orlok. She and Thomas are 110% in love. There are even certain Harker-flavored quotes thrown in to prove as much. (Details under the cut.)

-Count Orlok is a terrifying bastard and a half. Significantly more imposing than classic Orlok’s spindly rigor mortis-stiff figure and only wearing a sliver of Dracula’s performative charm. He is a Devil-Death archetype playing a monster who operates in deceit and contracts to wring out what he wants. That and a lot of corpses.

-This film is so beautiful. No gothic touch is skipped.

In sum, I more than like this film. I love it. It isn’t perfect, because no film can be, but damn. I am so proud of this nightmare you made, Bobby Egg.

SPOILERS FOR Nosferatu (2024) BELOW

-Getting some cons out of the way. There are points where a few of the actors lean maybe a bit too heavy on the ham-and-cheese in their deliveries (I’ll not blame the kids, they’re very young, but yeesh. That’s some cartoon acting.)

Yes, the g-slur is still used; though while I wish it hadn’t appeared in Eggers’ script at all, it does make sense within the context of the setting, i.e. Thomas and the Innkeeper probably only having the one word they know, same as in Dracula. And yes, naked teenage girl-on-a-horse does happen for the vampire hunt scene. Whee.

-Now, an early pro: Eggers nixed the ‘hot teen girl tries to pickpocket Thomas’ bit, and the ‘land of phantoms and thieves’ line never happens. All that happens after Thomas wakes in the inn—post witnessing the vampire slaying in the local graveyard, mud on his shoes to prove it was real—is he discovers himself utterly alone. No people, no horse. Cue the long walk.

-Ellen doing the ‘Come to me,’ bit early on is her in adolescence. It’s revealed that her Weird Girl elements have been turned up to 11, tragic lonely past included (replete with dad threatening to send her to a madhouse), and her prayer was just for company. The psychic ping was picked up by Orlok, who took advantage, turning an isolated and desperate barely-more-than-a-kid’s wish into a ‘covenant.’

-Thomas was met not long after this, cue them being genuinely in love <3

-Knock Does Not Jerk Off On Screen. If he does, his back is to us, and Little Knock is covered with some occult tablet or suchlike while he’s doing his ritual business. Also he kills a guy in his cell. Using his teeth.

-Castle time! Thomas is greeted by a driverless carriage at a crossroads and seems to be hypnotized into stepping in. A lot of things Thomas does once in Orlok’s territory seem to very clearly have psychic puppet strings attached. That and some increasing terror on Thomas’ part. There is no warm Dracula-style welcome from Orlok when he arrives, but a terse and strange leading to the dinner table where paperwork is demanded.

- We get a glimpse of this version of the Count’s ego. Thomas calls him sir. Orlok demands Thomas address him as my lord. And then we get the bread cutting scene. Thomas’ thumb bleeds. Orlok get far too interested. His voice, a very guttural and rasping bass, turns into something closer to an animal trilling and growling. Thomas is paralyzed beside the fire; cut away as Orlok closes in.

-Ellen and Anna Harding have a bit of a Mina and Lucy deal going on at the beach. It’s sweet <3 (Prepare for pain </3)

 - Orlok starts getting tricky. He 1) borrows (steals) Ellen’s locket from Thomas and 2) Tricks Thomas into signing a contract to ‘sell’ Ellen/break their marriage via a strange contract in a language Thomas can’t read, with Orlok using the prop of some gold to imply that this is merely a document in ~his native language~ to complete the property sale. Thomas signs, less for the gold than to be gone from the castle and back to Ellen…only for Orlok to insist Thomas is not well. He must stay the night.

- No mind games here. Just Thomas pleading to leave and Orlok’s parting word being that he will stay, and that he will obey his orders.

-Orlok has already chomped Thomas on the tiddy as of last night. Next night, after Thomas almost lands a blow on him in the coffin—Orlok sleeps with his Orcock out in the box, by the way, alongside several rats—Orlok wills Thomas to unlock the door he shut between them. Cue Thomas being tranced onto the bed, pounced on, and basically dry-humped by Orlok as he drinks Thomas all but dry. Thomas is left that way, only to be woken by Orlok’s wolves—he has those too!—and go clambering out the window, dropping to the river below.

-Orlok makes Ellen’s life hell. Holy fuck. The 1838 quality ‘medicine’ definitely doesn’t help—corsets for correcting posture, draining blood because there’s too much in there, binding to the bedposts to stop sleepwalking, general drugging etc etc—but FUCK. Lily-Rose Depp did a great and terrible job of reproducing shaking fits and some of the faces and sounds she made had me thinking I might choke on my own tongue. And for all the sexually provocative poses/noises that happen, every time she comes out of it it’s clear that she hates this. It’s on par with psychic rape.

-The only times we see Ellen respond positively~ to Orlok’s dream-advances is when she’s telling Thomas about the ‘marrying Death’ dream where everyone died and she was deliriously happy and then the infamous trailer line about Thomas not being able to satisfy her as Orlok can~~~

Well guess what.

Guess fucking what.

That was Orlok leaning on her brain. The same way he did to Thomas when, eventually, after the nuns rescue him and pray the plague/vampirism out and he makes it home while half-dead, he lays in bed with Ellen and gets a panic attack combined with Orlok’s image being grafted over Ellen’s face…

…a reverse of the illusion Orlok gave him in the castle, with Thomas imagining it was Ellen on top of him instead. The effect terrifies Thomas all over again and he unwittingly tosses Ellen away, I can't breathe, get off of me, get off!

-Orlok does his murder snacking. Knock, who escaped, offers to find and kill Thomas to please the Count, literally on his hands and knees. Orlok calls him a dog and backhands him, insisting Ellen must be given, not stolen.

-Orlok has already visited Ellen by this time. He presses her to keep her deal with him. She tells him, flat out, I abhor you. In response, Orlok grabs her and chucks her like a ragdoll in a rage. He fumes, telling her he will give her three nights to pledge herself to him, and in the meantime he will start killing. (RIP to Anna and her little girls, the latter of whom ORLOK KILLS IN FRONT OF HER, EATING THEIR THROATS OUT AS SHE ENTERS THEIR ROOM.)

-Before all that, he spins bullshit about Thomas ~selling her to him for mere gold~. A technical truth that Ellen, mid-Orlok spell, spits back at Thomas amid a rage, along with details that are likewise based in only a granule of reality; but which Orlok did not mention in their scene together. Things like Thomas being weak and childish, that he ‘fell into Orlok’s arms like a fainting woman.’ Interesting choice of spin there, Orlok. But whatever.

This all culminates in what is either reality or a dream or a blend of both as Thomas makes sudden desperate love to her, Ellen weirdly heady about it, telling him yes yes yes they will show Orlok their love. Cue her snapping back to full cognizance (awake? dreaming?) as her eyes and mouth spurt blood in a vision. She collapses in fear and tears as Thomas holds her. AND THEN:

-Ellen. Drops. The I am unclean line. She wants Thomas away from her, she is not worthy, she puts him in danger.

-Thomas goes full Jonathan and clings to her. Nonsense. I love you. I love you. I love you.

-V i n d i c a t i o n

-Anyway.

-Dafoe-Von Franz-Van Helsing is a kooky science occultist. Finds a book that Knock had which fills the role of highlighting Orlok as Solomonari (hey, Scholomance shout out!) and Knock as a would-be beneficiary. Also includes the ‘maiden offers her body and blood to the monster to kill it via sunrise’ bit.

-While he reads this, he does NOT actually spell any of these details out to Ellen when they have their secret mini talk about tricking Thomas into hunting for the coffin with him and Sievers. He gives her a big ~you're the only one who can save us magic maiden martyr~ pep talk, but that's it. Meanwhile, Ellen was already preparing to offer herself to save Thomas and whoever’s left in Wisborg. Not the same kind of agency as the original, but still better than I was expecting.

-Harding, Thomas’ rich friend whose wife and children got drinked to death, dies of plague in the family tomb. They burn the bodies.

-In the ruin Orlok bought, cue the iron stake slamming down as they open the coffin..! But whoops. Knock’s in the box, not Orlok. Von Franz says Ellen offering herself is the only way~ Thomas doesn’t waste time throttling him, just makes a run for their home.

-Too late, of course. Orlok is there (with a very cool homage to the original stalking shadow silhouette routine) and Ellen welcomes him. While they are both naked in bed and it’s implied that they are/or intend to have sex, the bulk of the scene centers on Orlok taking Ellen’s blood from her breast. No clear shot of the Orcock on screen for that bit—Bobby Egg saved that pleasure for the Count flashing Thomas at the castle.

-Orlok’s death throes. Are so. Fucking. Cool. Definitely up there with one of the best vampiric demises I’ve ever seen on film. No spoilers there. You’ve got to see it.

-Heartbreak o’ Clock as Thomas bursts in just as Orlok has died and as Ellen is dying under him. There’s time for them to hold hands. And then she’s gone.

-We close on Von Franz popping up with some poetic soliloquy shit and a bunch of lilacs. The final beat is an overhead shot of Ellen, the Maiden, laying under the now-skeletal Orlok, as Death. Looks almost like a painting. Unlike the implication in the leaked script, she does not look happy/at peace. Simply asleep. The End.

-Other important notes:

1) Orlok has a little combover’s worth of hair on top and mighty and powerful ‘stache. Not Dracula-white, but it is there. Finally.

 2) The guy who plays Dr. Sievers has Alan Rickman’s voice. If he isn’t in opera, he should be.

3) I was too late to get a popcorn coffin box. I shall be in mourning until the New Year.

4) Bobby Egg if you can give me one more gift, let it be a deleted scene of Thomas beating Von Franz over the head with the iron stake, please and thank you <3

[autistichalsin]

Today I'm having a lot of thoughts about fear and how it plays into Astarion's arc, especially the ascended/spawn fork.

Ascended Astarion, who is so much more powerful, but will always be afraid.

Spawn Astarion, who is weaker and afraid, but has learned to manage his fears as a part of life.

It really speaks to me as someone with trauma and anxiety. What do you do when you have, say, a phobia? You could refuse to ever enter situations where you even might encounter it. You could maintain control over the situation. But at what cost? If you refuse to go outside so you don't have to deal with wide spaces, how much are you surrendering of life? Or on the other hand, you could put in the hard, terrifying work of accepting that fear as part of your life, at instead working at strategies to self-soothe and rationalize and admit maybe you will find the object of your fear, but with your loved ones and your own inner strength, you can manage it.

Ascended Astarion is a tragic figure to me because he's given up on that inner strength. Instead, he convinces himself all his problems can be solved from power alone, and just like Cazador he refuses to let anyone else be his equal. He's internalized the idea of the world as a place where you either hurt others or get hurt yourself, and he doesn't care who he hurts if he doesn't have to be the one getting hurt. You can see that mindset when he argues about the spawn, why should he help them if no one helped him, before he makes his choice whether to complete the ritual. When you let him ascend, you are solidifying to him that all life is is an extended power struggle, and that all that matters is him being on top. He has a guarantee, in his eyes, that no one will ever hurt him now- but also a guarantee he won't know true happiness either, because it takes a lot more than the absence of pain to be happy. If all you've known for years is pain, then at first it might feel like they're the same, because of the relief factor. But as time drags on, you realize you need so much more. Ascended won't get the chance, because he's given up on friends, loved ones, real and deep connections- anything except dynamics where he gets to be the one in control.

Spawn Astarion, on the other hand, remains afraid and weaker. But he gets to realize how unimportant power ultimately is. He gets to learn that healing comes from a support system, from opening one's heart back up despite the fear and pain, from deciding that your own sufferings are a reason others shouldn't suffer, not a reason why no action should be taken to help others at all. Ascended Astarion knows he'll survive forever, but spawn Astarion knows he'll LIVE. It doesn't matter if others are stronger, because he has the things that make life meaningful. He's afraid sometimes, but he also says it himself; it's okay if things change now. Whether that's a relationship or himself. He doesn't have control, but he doesn't need it anymore either.

That story beat just haunts me, man.

[pome-seed]

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 11

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Defeated and knowing the end is near, you do what you can to say goodbye to the Soldier. Regretfully, you soon find out that death isn't so soon to come.

Warnings: Captivity, Canon-typical violence. Heavy violence. Torture. Electroshock. Blood. Mention of starvation. Guns, weapons, fighting. Intimate sadness between reader and Bucky. Please skip the middle of this chapter if its too much.

Authors Note: Hi guys! This chapter is quick, but very dark. Please be warned. The middle of the chapter is descriptions of violence. ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Song Rec: Desperate Decision by Aleksey Chistilin

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

You knew your time was up.

You did what you could; you gave him his last injections, then took a wrench to the giant machine the Soldier never left. He was shocked when you first started tossing shit around, maybe even enjoyed it. 

“They're using trigger words,” you told him, smashing the wrench into a big box on the side of the seat. “And using electro pulses in the brain.” You grunted, yanking at all the wires you could.

“Plug your ears, do what you can to not hear those words, okay?” You panted, throwing metal scraps aside. “The control panel- and I think probably a device your handler keeps on him- they control the pulses in your brain.”

You stumbled over a stray cord and caught yourself on the bench where his metal arm was trapped. You rested your hand on the cold steel. “Break what you can, okay? Just- remember this. Remember that it’s all a lie.” You panted, your stomach twitching and twisting. You brushed your cheek against your shoulder, wincing as the bruised tissue in your face met your shirt. 

“Remember that they are all lying to you- You're not safe, and you need to get out. You're a person, okay? You were something before this.” You whispered. "Remember that."

He watched you, his brows tilted up, a crease knitted between them. You reached out and brushed your thumb between them, smoothing the wrinkle. “They’re going to make you kill more innocent people. Please, please fight.”

 You tucked a few stray locks of dark hair behind his ears. “I should have cut your hair again.” You said, the lingering thought spilling out. There’s so many things you wanted to do. So much left undone. “But it's okay, long hair suits you.” You smiled bitterly. 

“Why are you-” He paused, the muscles in his jaw tensing. “Why are you accepting this so easily?” He stared at you in bewilderment, the terrified rabbit of a person, who was accepting their own looming death with a smile.

He watched you with this tragic look, all too real and too tender. But he was helpless. He couldn't save you. Not like this. Not yet.

“Because there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.” You traced your fingers over his hairline. “I can bite and kick and scream, but they have guns. They have torture.” You swallowed heavily. “They have you.” You pressed your lips together, bittersweet as you met his gaze. “I don’t have any other option but to accept it.”

He shook his head, your fingers brushing his temple. You didn’t know when you had gotten so comfortable with touching him.

Maybe it was because you were scared, and you were dying, and that he was the only constant thing in your life. Maybe it was because he was the only thing around you that you weren't scared of, and you missed the softness of affection. Maybe it was because you were terrified to die, and all you wanted was to hug your family. 

His lips parted, words on the tip of his tongue.

The door behind you slammed open. 

“Oh god-” you tried to hide the tremble of your hands as you dropped them from his face. 

Footsteps stomped behind you.

You grabbed the wrench and slammed it harder into the metal power box on the side of the chair, again and again, fragments and sparks flying, until pairs of hands yanked you away. You yelped, the wrench falling from your hands. Your feet kicked out, but hands wrapped around your ankles.

 “Fuck you!” you shouted, tears burning behind your eyes. “Fuck all of you!”

You cried out as someone kneed you in the side. Your body hit the ground, the hands around your arms dragging you back towards the door. “Remember what I said-” you shouted, your blurry gaze set on the furious form in the chair. “Remember what I said-” you begged.

Just before the doors slammed shut, you caught a glimpse of those sad blue eyes. 

“You want to know how we did it? You’ll get what you want. We’ll show you.”

The terror you felt prior was nothing compared to the weight those words hit you with.

Weeks passed. Weeks.

In darkness. 

When younger, you always thought you would die of old age, or from a sickness passed down in your family. Then, when you were taken, you assumed it would be one swift bullet to the brain. You weren't useful enough for any extra trouble. That’s what you thought.

Turns out, you were wrong.

And they took their time with you.

They started with sensory deprivation. You spent days in solitude. Absolute silence, darkness swallowing up your every sense. You were strapped down, immobile. You were gagged and bound, attached to wires and starved. 

For the first few days you were fully aware of yourself. You spent your time shaking and terrified, counting the seconds like you’d grown so used to. But as the days passed, you started to lose yourself. You stopped being able to tell the waking world from the one inside your head. You barely ever realized when your eyes were open or closed.

Then things changed. 

Then came the pain. It started with holding your head underwater until you slipped under the veil of unconsciousness, then yanking you out and shocking you to life. 

You were stripped of your clothes- stripped of your dignity. You were freezing, the ice cold water sticking to your bare skin. You felt humiliated, you felt like a thing rather than a person. 

That was the whole intention, you imagined. 

They wanted to break you.

And they did.

As the weeks passed, you lost yourself in the long bouts of strenuous torture. 

They repositioned you days ago, switching your chair for a pair of cuffs and some chains. 

Chains rattled above your head. Cold air bit at your naked skin. Blisters dripped blood down your forearms from where the cuffs rubbed your wrists raw. 

Shivers wracked your body, making it hard to keep still. You tried and failed to balance on the tips of your toes as they scraped the ground. You slipped on the curdled blood that stained the cold floor.

You blinked slowly, your body sagging. You battled between keeping your eyes open, staying on guard, and succumbing to the warm embrace of sleep.

Voices floated around you, lights blinking on and off. Your head hung low, chin tucked to your chest. You couldn’t move, your muscles feeling shriveled and weak. You heard a man counting. Your heart picked up in your chest. 

Saliva pooled in your mouth around the rubber mouthpiece shoved between your teeth. Trembles wracked your body, fear surging through your veins. 

Click.

Click.

Switch.

Electricity surged through your body, your nerves feeling sliced open and frayed. A shrill, animalistic scream ripped from your throat, echoing in the large lab. Your whole body locked up, the tissues of your muscles rippling in agony.

Your eyes rolled back in your head. You couldn’t hear anything except the buzzing in your ears and the hum of electricity. You wanted to cry and beg for relief. You wanted to admit defeat. 

You wanted nothing more than to go home. 

In an instant the flow of electricity flipped off. Your body went lax, trembling and twitching. You huffed like a sick dog, sucking air in through your locked jaw. 

They gave you sixty seconds to breathe, as they always did.

Click.

Click.

Switch.

Agonized wails tore from your throat.

And it repeated like that.

Again.

And again.

You didn’t hear it. 

The first sounds of death. You weren't aware of anything but the rippling pain in your body. But the men around you noticed. They were scrambling, frantic as they shut down their computers and ran for nearby weapons.

Gunshots sounded outside the lab. 

Grown men cried out, shouting and screaming.

The doors to the lab blew open. Metal grinded against metal. A small metal ball rolled into the room, knocked against a control panel, then rolled to the side.

Then, boom.

Gas erupted from the small ball as shrapnel rained down around it. Gunfire showered the room as a large body emerged from the broken doorway. He moved like a shadow through the fog, sparks of light following gunfire. Bodies dropped, one after another, their screams of terror cut short. 

You could barely keep your eyes open, your own body still bearing the weight of your last round of electrocution. You couldn’t feel anything anymore. You couldn’t even feel the necessary fear as you heard heavy bootsteps draw closer. 

The gunfire had ceased. 

Everyone was dead.

You saw the tips of black boots.

A single gunshot went off, your chains fracturing.

Your body went crashing down, limp. A cold metal weight wrapped around your waist and hiked you up. You blinked, your gaze cloudy and confused. Warm fingers gently gripped your jaw, massaging the hinge for a moment. Your jaw loosened slightly, the shock of the electricity wearing. He pinched your chin and slowly worked the rubber mouthpiece from between your teeth. A string of saliva connected from your lips to his fingers. He wiped his thumb over the corner of your mouth, then tossed the rubber to the side. 

You were weightless in his arms, tossed over his shoulder. Your bound hands hung low, swaying with every step the man took. 

A heavy metal hand held firm against your backside, keeping your steady. Your face pressed against his lower back, cold leather meeting your cold skin. You knew you should fight. You knew you should struggle and cry and kick, but you just couldn’t. All of the fight you had left was beaten out of you a long time ago.

It took all you had not to black out then and there. And with just that, you failed. 

You thought you were blinking, because that's all it felt like. But every time you opened your eyes, things were very different.

At first it was quiet, just boots on concrete, walking through dark halls. Then there were sparks raining down on you, lights shot out from soldiers charging down the hall. Then you were being set down, body slumped against the floor. Blood spattered on the walls, knives pierced flesh. 

Then you were being scooped back up, tossed over a broad, thick shoulder. 

Then, you felt the kiss of sunlight against your skin for the first time in months. 

It was so warm, and so bright, you thought you were dying. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your face into the man's lower back.

 You thought you would revel in it, turn your face up and gasp the fresh air greedily. But in all reality, it was just too intense. 

It was so bright it made your eyes throb in your skull. The fresh air on your naked skin made goosebumps travel down your back. 

You took two deep breaths before everything went black again. 

A/N: Forgive me :D I'm very sorry for the angst. But hey, the next chapter will be something very different! Please enjoy, comment, and be kind!

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05 @cupids-mf-arrow

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

hold on,hold on,Yandere!Conner Kent x reader🙏🏻

(sorry for bothering😭)

U ain't a bother and if anybody tells you that u do, then, they gonna face my pinky, my thumb and my fist they gonna run. 😼🐺🧏🏽‍♀️ nobody messes with my first ever anon 😠👊

Anyways

The night has fallen quietly over Metropolis, the cityscape softened under a blanket of stars. The world feels smaller somehow, contained within the walls of your apartment where Connor sits, angled slightly toward you, his gaze unwavering yet serene. He has that brooding, intense look—a mix of steel and tenderness—that you’ve come to recognize as uniquely his. It’s as though he’s carrying a burden, one he won’t let you see, and yet you feel its weight as if he’s drawn you into his orbit without permission.

“Connor,” you say softly, trying to break the quiet, “you’ve been… around a lot more lately.”

His eyes flicker, something shadowy dancing behind them, a vulnerability he usually keeps hidden. He doesn’t answer right away, just lets his gaze travel over your features as if memorizing every detail. The room feels charged, the air between you like the fine thread of a spider’s web—delicate and unbreakable all at once.

Finally, he speaks, his voice hushed but firm. “I just want to make sure you’re safe. Is that so wrong?”

There’s a faint, haunting cadence in his words, something raw and possessive yet laced with an almost tragic reverence. You feel the intensity radiating off him, a barely restrained storm beneath his calm exterior.

“Nothing could happen to you,” he continues, almost to himself. “Not on my watch. I’d make sure of that.”

You’ve always known Connor’s protectiveness runs deep, but tonight, it feels like there’s something else lurking beneath the surface. An edge, a quiet desperation that clings to the room, thick as fog.

“Connor…” you say his name with a gentle tone, hoping it might pull him out of whatever dark place he’s retreating into. He’s so close now, leaning forward, his hand reaching out as if compelled by some invisible force. When his fingers graze your cheek, his touch is featherlight, as though he fears you’ll vanish.

“If I could keep you here,” he whispers, his tone taking on a dreamy, almost poetic quality, “locked away from the world… I would. Not because I want to take anything from you, but because I… I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

It’s a confession wrapped in longing, and you see the truth of it in his eyes, where constellations seem to burn just for you. There’s something about his gaze that feels eternal, as if the universe itself has handed him the task of guarding you.

“You mean a lot to me,” he says finally, each word slow and deliberate, as though he’s trying to etch them into your soul. “More than you know.”

In that moment, his love feels like an uncharted ocean—beautiful and terrifying, with depths you’re not sure you’re ready to explore. But his sincerity anchors you, and, despite the intensity of his words, you can’t help feeling safe, cocooned in the quiet power of his devotion.

(A/n: is it just me or do you guys also feel suspicious of how I could post every day despite saying I'm too lazy to do so... Maybe my laziness hasn't kicked in yet which is weird and scary considering I'm writing dis rn in front of my 10 homework activities, and yes I am doing it last minute but so what...? I'm too lazy to do all of em and rn I'm don't know what I am talking about... I love yapping but I'm a introvert does it make me a extrovert when i talk too much but not as loud? Guys I'm turning crazy, I need someone to talk to and all my best friends are busy idk why they've been busy since last week....my gf is not replying for like 20 minutes now...im going crazy. Also sorry for spamming the Batfamily tag even though it's not the content I posted, I just feel like it's more famous than the others and also idk how to tag... Though mainly because I'm scared of being a flop hehe...)

[pink-petal-lover]

It's always really sad to me, when I see people saying that Astarion thinks he's so much better than everyone. When that's really just the front he puts up, and baby you fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Cause this man really doesn't think he's better than anyone, he kinda hates himself more than anyone. That's why he gets so genuinely surprised you'd choose him over anyone else in camp. In truth, he seems to see himself as just a pretty face and a piece of ass. Something to use, and then be discarded when his use has been worn out.

He knows it so well in fact, he expects the same out of the player. Which is why he uses you in the first place, you fall for it. And considering how many people write him as this prince charming, I think he chose well. Then he feels like a total dumbass for catching feelings, because he's faced with someone who is open to casual intimacy with him but also actually cares about him as a person. Which is why he feels genuinely bad about it. You actually care about him, and he's never had that before. It makes him care about you, which is even more terrifying.

The last time he showed the tiniest bit of compassion for someone, he was thrown into solitary confinement for a year. On top of that any "relationship" he's had, it's all been fake. He even says he doesn't know what real is, it's all just a performance for him. And goddamn if he isn't a star actor, he knows his lines and he reads them oh so very well.

Which makes his "What, why?" Line when you tell him you'd rather be with him, all the more tragic to me. Because while he fronts that he knows he's the obvious choice, he really doesn't think that. You have way better options in camp, but you'd rather go with him?

Sorry, but no matter how much anyone out there hates Astarion. Chances are you could never hate him, more than he hates himself.

Anywho, this came on for a lot of reasons. But honestly one of them was me thinking "Man I don't think he'd realistically look at me twice. He's so far out of my league, I'd be burned to ashes for even trying."

But then it kinda dawned on me, that this man literally thinks so little of himself. He gets genuinely shocked you actually want to have him as a partner over everyone else in camp. No matter how big of an act he puts up, he doesn't think himself worthy of being loved. We can project all that self loathing into love for each other, and try to learn to love ourselves as we go. I think that'd be sweet.

[demodraws0606]

Jax's fear of being trapped and what that might imply about his past/future

Hello 2 days ago i've developped a chronic case of Brainrotting about Jax, tragic I know.

I'm kinda basing this slightly of what Gooseworx have said in QnAs though I will not rely on it because I think purely relying on a creator's words and not the media isn't really satisfying.

The main thing that stood out to me in this episode with Jax was that he seems to fear punishement.

He seems really freaked out when Gangle proposed the idea of Cain punishing him...

And then he immediatly goes to Zooble to be like "lol you don't believe Cain actually could punish us right ?" and while he's proven right at the end of the episode, the fact that he immediatly tries to seek reassurance that he wouldn't get punished says a lot. In fact in his expressions he looks both sides while saying it almost like he seems...unsure/anxious (idk the right word).

Also when he's brought into the employee training scene. He's weirdly...afraid and shaken by it ?? (not showing the screenshot cos everyone remembers that scene).

Which like, I understand that was terrifying but it was a strangely strong reaction to something that...light ? I mean he wasn't brainwashed or anything. I might be stretching it but all of it, including the scene's purpose makes me wonder if it brought Jax bad memories of...something.

After that scene happens, he completely acts normal and stops trying to be a dick completely.

Now this isn't a convo about weither that's Jax's true self and his jerk self is a persona. People are trying way too hard to either try to make him a one dimensional asshole or secretly a good guy which like he's neither he's a bastard with layers. But that's not what this is about so ANYWAYS.

All of this made me wonder what was Jax's main Thing, more so his theme or the thing that makes him tick.

We know with Gangle it's her issue with masking (her dreams, how she feels, etc...), Ragatha being a people pleaser, Zooble's body dysmorphia, King's memories and how they link with the loss of his wife and Pomni's desire for companionship.

For Jax we actually don't really know other than...he's a dick and he's using it to cope which like....duh ?

But with this episode and also a little thing that I got from researching QnAs (because i'm normal and chill like that) made me realise what could Jax's Thing.

A Fear of Consequences and being Trapped

Now the main thing that drove this thought was me finding out Gooseworx assigning a song to Jax which is this one.

Don't fence me in, huh....

That line meaning a desire to not be restricted and not losing their freedom.

This makes me think this is probably what Jax's character is at least partially about, or more so...his biggest fear. Being restricted, reprimended or trapped.

I think in part that fear could be related to his past, which I'm gonna throw my cards here, my own personal theory is that he was stuck in juvenile detention for misbehaving as a kid. That experience traumatising him enough that he was probably similar to the Jax we've seen at the end of episode 4, just Tired.

Now does it Necessarely have to be a juvenile detention center, honestly no ? But it's the thing that makes the most sense in my head.

Either way this also explains a lot of things about his behavior in the circus.

He's now secluded in a space with absolutely 0 Consequences, the one person who can dish it out is an AI who is probably programmed to never harm humans (directly at least). He's even proven right at the end of episode 4.

I think what led to Jax's shit behavior was this realisation that this is pretty much now his Safe Heaven. In real life he can't just be who he wants to be, there's potential consequences that he's afraid of.

Now I know I'm gonna hear like "oh so you just think Jax is an asshole by nature", I don't think he is (i don't think he's ever been a nice person his life but like there's a difference here), I genuinely think he's not more so being himself rather that it's just that he's overcompensating for the lack of freedom that he's felt his entire life.

In a way it's similar to how people act on the internet.

Imagine that you were a misbehaving kid and you were reprimended HARSHLY for it, to the point where you're not really fixed per say but you're stuck being terrified of even being slightly flawed.

But now here he is, in a place where death doesn't matter, the harm he does doesn't matter and the one person who can actually hurt him just gives him weird shenanigans that give him opportunities to lash out.

However, there's a tiny little problem...

This fantasy cannot last forever forever and I'm not talking about them getting out because as far as they know it's out of the cards for them.

It's very much clear that the circus with the arrival of Pomni is becoming more tight knit and less divided, creating a more solid friendship group with the help of Pomni being an actual normal nice human person (Zooble is nice too but they're more jaded and too depressed to deal with most of everything, and Ragatha is a whole baggage).

It's becoming increasingly clear in the episodes themselves as well that, Jax can't just be an asshole anymore. Every episode since episode 1 has led to him being reprimended or him not being given what he wants. The group is becoming closer and they're sick of his bullshit.

He also probably doesn't like being alone and hated. We see him seeming sad at the talk of Kofmo's funeral before having to go back to being angry and dismissive in his facial expression.

Maybe he really did want to go to Kofmo's funeral but like would anyone actually believe he would be genuine, after being an asshole for so long would it really be worth for Jax to just break it all right there.

But it's clear he's also not really enjoying being alone.

Jax in a way is basically burrying a hole for himself. Being an asshole was his perfect dream after probably living a life of boredom and repression but now that this consequenceless existence has finally revealed itself to just be a mirage, he's now unable to access the things he really needs.

Actual friendship.

It's clear that the Digital Circus has a point of companionship being extremely important, in fact when we get mentions of Kofmo's abstracting we get also mentions about how no one really founds his jokes funny. Kinger mentioning how making someone feel alone and unwanted is the worst thing you could do to someone. Gangle is saved by Pomni and Zooble's presence.

However there's no one at fault for Jax's isolation, he only has himself to blame.

Ive got more but i'm tired so hope you guys enjoyed it.

[mandalhoerian]

I have a confession. I rhonk about what would change if Caleb were a didi and not a gege because it causes a lot more drama and also gives us more of an underdog love interest vibe. Too many cool and accomplished men in the lineup, make him even more of a loser. Even if it's just a month younger or a year, the dynamic of him wanting/needing to be her protector becomes more complicated and heartbreaking, especially if she is just as protective of him.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this ever since I got your ask anon. It affected me answering my asks, honestly. I got put in the ADHD dysfunction jail until I answered this one.

Being older gives gege structure. Authority. The quiet dignity of someone who’s always one step ahead, always holding the umbrella before the storm hits. But make Caleb a didi, and everything is upside down. The gravity aspect of him is about reaching now. The protector standing steady in the rain becomes the boy chasing after your shadow, sprinting to catch up, hoping that growing taller will make him feel older, stronger, enough. His love goes beyond being a promise of safety, and becomes a question he’s terrified to ask:

"What do I have to do for you to see me the way I see you?"

Let's talk about it.

In both Chinese and Japanese media, sibling terminology is never just familial, it’s loaded with hierarchy. “Gege” and “Nii-san” come with gravitas and respect. They mean: I go first. I carry the weight. The older brother archetype comes with authority by proximity. It places him above you. He was there first. He knew you first. He sheltered you when you were small and scared.

But “didi” (弟弟 / otouto) is a different creature entirely. He’s the one you stood in front of at the doctor’s office so he wouldn’t see the needle. The one who trailed you at school with scraped knees and untied shoes, clutching whatever you told him was important. He was the excuse you gave when you lied, the person you protected your entire life because you had nobody but him. He isn't the shield like gege is. He's the reason you needed to be one. Didi Caleb is not being relied on.

He's the one being taken care of in this scenario.

And yet, the moment you tell me that this version of Caleb is trying to be your protector anyway, it gets so juicy because this means more instability. That he's trying to reverse the roles so desperately.

Let's start with the physical aspect of it. There’s something unspoken about height in this kind of dynamic. Caleb is canonically 188cm, built like a hero. It's be more interesting if didi Caleb still has his original self's appearance. So now picture this: this beefcake towers over you. He can lift you with one arm. He blocks out the sun when he steps forward.

But every time you tilt your head to look up at him, he remembers a time when he used to tilt his head up at you and got his hair ruffled. He used to be the one enveloped in your arms. You used to be so big to him back then, his immovable mountain. But how small you are now, compared to him, but still able to make him feel so small.

That physical reversal is humiliating, in that sense. Because no matter how much taller he gets, part of him is still that boy — the one you once held, and still treats as such.

It disrupts Caleb’s clean, golden-boy narrative and turns him into something the story lacks — an underdog as you say. I know the word gets used in a scrappy comic-relief way nowadays, but I mean in the most emotionally bruising sense of the word.

Canon Caleb, as gege, is tragic and noble. His story is about sacrifice and distance and crossing lines and rewriting what they were to each other and the yearning and all those complicated stuff, about smiling while holding the knife by the blade, showing that he has been harboring a different person inside and he can't be the Caleb he's carefully curated for you anymore.

But as a didi, his tragedy becomes internalized in an entirely different register.

“I don’t want to be protected by you anymore. I want to stand in front of you now — and not because I’m strong enough… but because I love you. Look at me. See me as more. I've become so much more.”

It turns his competence into a coping mechanism. His strength becomes the performance. His medals, his rank, his years in the DAA — they're desperate proof. Proof that he’s no longer a kid. Proof that he's grown into someone you might look at differently. I can imagine that he still has the househusband skills of gege Caleb, but he's picked them up so you would would depend on him entirely.

And he knows it still isn’t enough.

He knows you see him. But not like that.

You still look at him with those warm, older-sister eyes. Still cups his cheek when he’s hurt like you used to when he was twelve. Still praises him with that gentle, knowing tone—“You’ve come so far.”

And it kills him. Because he doesn’t want to be commended. He wants to be chosen.

In canon, Caleb protects the MC because he always has. It’s natural. It’s part of their shared history.

But here? He’s trying to rewrite their roles (which is a big canon factor) but in a different way. He’s fighting upstream against the current of every time you picked him up when he fell, every time you handed him the bigger slice, every time you stepped between him and something frightening.

So what does he do?

He overcompensates. Trains until his hands bleed. Takes on impossible missions. Volunteers for frontline danger. Tries to stack achievement on top of achievement like he’s building a ladder out of childhood.

But the heartbreak is that you never asked him to. You never demanded he become your shield.

Because you never stopped seeing him as someone you needed to guard.

Colonel Caleb with this context is more jarring. When he comes back hardened and unrecognizable in the Farspace Fleet uniform, it’s still a seismic moment. The same explosion. The same presumed death. The same return from the grave, standing across from you with a stranger’s voice and a soldier’s posture.

But as a didi, that moment is like realizing the kid you once put band-aids on has grown into someone you can’t read anymore.

Again, it’s the same reunion scene. Though he emotional footing is different now.

He’s returning as someone who outgrew you while you weren't looking. And you don't know what to do with that.

Because with gege Caleb, the rupture is spiritual. He returns changed, yes, but still playing the role you remember, gentle, playful, achingly loyal. He acts the same after they skip past the interrogation.

But with didi Caleb, the rupture is personal. It feels like a betrayal you don't have the words for. Didi Caleb's personality shift adopts the Colonel more and hangs onto the title and the authority that comes from it because that's exactly what he's been looking for all his life. He doesn't "drop it" like gege Caleb does around you.

From your perspective, he grew into someone who doesn’t need you anymore. Who might never have. And that realization burns more than his absence ever did.

There’s a dissonance between who you see and who you remember. The sense of not recognizing Caleb is stronger with the didi version of him precisely because he took that opportunity to assert he's not the younger brother and he doesn't intend to reassume that role. You aren't sure if it’s safe to speak to him the way you used to. If you're allowed to be the way you used to be with him. He’s bulkier now. His shoulders broader. His jaw is set differently when he’s thinking. And he watches you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle, because it’s not the wide-eyed look of a little brother hoping for approval.

He doesn’t want your grief. He doesn’t want your relief. He wants recognition. He wants permission.

You’re responsible for Caleb. That hasn’t changed, not in your bones. It doesn’t matter how old he gets or what rank sits on his chest — you raised that boy in the ways that counted. You taught him to keep his laces double-knotted and to stop lying with his face. You were the one who pulled him through his clumsy years and every heartache he couldn’t name.

And now you’re standing in front of him again after mourning him for an entire year and he’s acting like you’re the one who needs handling.

Yes, your check-ins became less frequent after he was cleared for flight. Yes, you didn’t exactly love the whole “don’t treat me like a kid” phase.

But you're not sure if this is a phase. It's as if he’s managed to get so good at keeping you out that he can now do it with a smile. And the part that drives you completely insane is that he’s become too clever to be caught.

He withholds now instead of lying, that's a technique he's mastered. Redirection. Dissolving arguments with jokes. When you press him, he grins and says something like, “You’re worrying too much again, Jie/Nee-san. You always do.”

And maybe that’s what stings the most. That somewhere along the way, he learned how to disarm you, to dodge the questions that matter. Weaponized taking cover behind the version of himself you still remember fondly while keeping everything that actually hurts buried six layers beneath the surface.

You want to scold him. You want to make him sit down and explain what the hell happened to turn him into someone who treats your concern like static in his comms. But you can’t. Because he’s too smooth with it. So cheeky, in that maddening way he gets when he knows he’s winning a fight you weren’t even sure had started.

You can't even compute as he shuts you in his house while smiling through it all like he doesn't have you under lock and key. Who has this kid become? Where have you gone wrong with him? It's this place, the Fleet. They must have done something to him, you're sure. You have to take him away from here, this can't go on. Your Caleb wouldn't even dream of doing something like this.

So when he corners you on that couch and tells you he's not playing house anymore and is certainly not going to keep being your younger brother, it's solidified that this is a clone that must have taken his place. Even after you leave Skyhaven in the aftermath of that disaster of an investigation, a part of you believes that ridiculous notion. There is no way your heart would be racing for your didi.

And the subsequent cards and memories that unfold have no hesitancy and the quiet yearning of gege Caleb who was benefiting from the status quo and being your protector despite having a love-hate relationship with the restrictions. Didi is assertive to establish that he's a man and that he wants OUT of that zone, he doesn't want to be regarded as a younger brother and hates being treated as such.

God, I yapped SO MUCH. This AU fascinates me, thank you for sharing it with me and allowing me to talk about it anon!

[beevean]

Thinking about Tenna and Kris… Perhaps an unpopular opinion, but I actually LOVE their relationship when Tenna is properly portrayed as the manipulative, cruel, and terrifying TV host he can be. Yes he’s pathetic and tragic, but he still contains The Horrors and I love it so much. A kid and their morally dubious uncle figure is amazing, especially with the themes of nostalgia, escapism, and a desire to avoid the future that their whole dynamic represents.

I honestly love the fact that Tenna is willing to pressure and hurt Kris to make them love him again. To want to stay with him. It’s so interesting! It is fucked up, certainly, and that’s why it’s so fascinating. Tenna doesn’t JUST adore and love Kris with his whole heart, doesn’t just want them to be happy and smile. In a way, he wants to be their world again. He wants them to NEED him. The idea that they don’t is too much to bear, so Tenna pretends. Pretends that Kris needs him even more than he needs them.

And this isn’t to downplay his interesting dynamic with Susie or Ralsei either— but I think it’s so fascinating how he fixates on Kris. He’s always talking about them, thinking about them, wondering what will make THEM happy. Not Ralsei. Not Susie. Kris.

The borderline possessive behavior he displays towards Kris is so so delicious. He loves them so much it hurts, so they’ll hurt too. He’s so confident in his knowledge of Kris, the more and more they reject him the further he slips into mania to try and get SOMETHING from them.

And, y’know, nothing I’m saying here is new or isn’t already obvious. But I think Tenna and Kris’ relationship has so much potential outside of the art of them drowning out the fighting with Tenna — which I do adore!

Tenna holds on to anything he can, even the employees he mistreats and exploits. He wants to make people happy because HE wants to be needed and adored. He holds on so hard it hurts. He tries to draw Kris in by reminding them of the good old days— but just pushes them away even further, leading him to more and more extremes to try and get their love and attention back. Dude was on the verge of committing war crimes to get Kris back.

Kris isn’t a kid anymore. But to Tenna, they’re still his kid. Even if they need a… not-so-gentle reminder! Teenagers, right? So rebellious! They can forget how much they need their caretakers.

Tenna loves Kris. And that does not make him above hurting, manipulating, and displaying possessive behaviors over them in a vain attempt to make them love him as much as they used to. And I love it.

(Also I just realized I don’t have a link on my account to my Ao3, which you asked for— so my bad! It’s Calamit_Y on ao3– I’ve got two fics about Kris and Tenna if you’re up for reading them! Currently I’m tossing around an idea where Kris gets the Snowgrave treatment instead in chapter 2… but nothing concrete. Yet.)

👀👀👀

You're so right. I was pretty disappointed when I looked in the tag and saw very little dark Kris & Tenna content. Don't get me wrong, I also love the art where he's the kind uncle shielding his nibling from the Divorce, but... he's not just a kind uncle.

I read your two fics and they're perfect! You 100% nailed Tenna's demeanor, affable and desperate even as he's hurting others, a love that borders on obsession without going full yandere.

It makes sense that Tenna will all be about Kris. The fondness he has for Susie is all new, which thematically makes sense since the whole point of Susie is creating a new future. But Kris? That's the kid he raised. Or, at least, it's how he feels. Funnily enough, Tenna never reminesces of times they watched TV alone, it's always with Asriel or Asgore. I guess he needs to feel important, because if he is not a formative part of Kris' childhood, then what use is he?

Tenna definitely gives the vibe of a parental figure who has a very specific, yet outdated view of their child. He knows best. He knows what Kris truly needs (him). He loves Kris, his cute kid Kris - so he doesn't know how to approach the depressed teen Kris. And since he knows best, he's not afraid of gently "parenting" his sassy nibling if they resist his love.

It's just. ugh. he's so creepy but never in a hateable way, I love him 😭 you can't say he's just a selfish bastard who only cares about himself, there is this wonderful combination of genuine love for his family and self-centered desperation! It's complex, and it's realistic, and it's ughhhhh tenna is so goooooooood

This is all Tenna, of course. It's harder to gauge how Kris feels about him. But considering that Tenna is the personification and reminder of a happy childhood that no longer exists, which incidentally is a behavior that Asgore shares and makes everyone uncomfortable, I can't imagine they care a lot. And this absolutely creates a push and pull where the more Tenna tries to bond with Kris to recreate "the good ol' times", the less Kris wants anything to do with him. They can't stay home and watch TV, they have friends now. Friends who won't push him to return to something they no longer are.

Huh. Of course Kris wouldn't be comfortable with yet another parental figure trying to control them :)

(and I haven't even touched the part where in the Mantle game Tenna reveals he had a deal with Kris, and the guy still has to kill him, which can mean nothing.)

Thank you for the ask and the recommendations, I can't get enough of the funny TV guy and his nibling <3

[abcdfghjklmpqrobin]

Batman and Robin 2023 #23

I need to discuss this. You guys don't understand. This page is everything.

There's so much going on, so much packed in to this apology. The desesperation and relief, and guilt in it are so palpable.

This is Bruce getting Damian back after he was kidnapped and it speaks volumes that the first thing he does, even in the middle of a persecution, is hug Damian and apologize.

And, my God, the way he apologizes. Like it has been punched out of his soul, like it's his first time breathing since Damian was taken and he needs to get the words out now.

Bruce almost lost Damian here, and he knows it.

It's not a coincidence how much we're shown Jason's Death through Bruce's hallucinations before this point. How his words to Damian mirror his last words to Jason. "Don't go after him, wait for me"

This is cautionary tale that almost came true again, and Bruce knows it.

You just know he's thinking of Jason here and it makes his worry so much more tragic.

It makes the desesperation in Bruce's voice when he finally gets Damian back so important.

You can almost hear the gratitude in his voice, like with every "I'm sorry" he is also saying 'thank you'. Thank you for being alive, thank you for being okay.

And you can almost hear the regret in his voice because Bruce has spent so much time alienating and antagonizing his boy and it almost got him killed.

This apology has been long overdue. For the pain he caused, for Bashar, for everything...

The whole run Bruce has been so scared that he's going to lose Damian. His son is changing, he's growing up, he's exploring the world outside of Bruce's wing. And Bruce has been terrified that it means Damian is going to leave him.

And he has been going about it in all of the wrong ways.

It's life's cruelest joke that he didn't even realize how much he was hurting Damian until Memento took him. Didn't realize how much he was pushing his son away in fear of losing him until he no longer had him.

"I will trust you" is as much a promise to Damian as it is to himself. A vow to stand by his son no matter what.

And at the end, the way that Bruce so tenderly holds Damian's face. All forgoten, all questions ignored in favor of making sure his kid is okay. Truly okay.

The way he asks "Are you us all right or really all right?", like he doesn't need Robin to be fine, he needs Damian to be fine.

Here he is not Batman, here Bruce is just a father that desperately needed to have his kid back in his arms.

It's perfect, it's everything I needed their reunion to be.

There is so many layers, so much hidden meaning between their interactions just in three panels.

This run has been written with so much care. This hug has so much build up to it, it feels so earned. I love everything about it.