#anyways something something cain instinct

[kumakuma-circus]

i made the p3 protags version of this like last month but i realized like five minutes ago it fits the hanamura bros too so. yea.

[fisherrprince]

oh so alisaie’s exaggerated bully behavior is 80% fanon. saying this she casually picks up a large rock

[sidesteppostinghours]

Temperance and High Priestess for Caine?

afternoon! thank you for the ask!

Temperance: How does your character balance their life?

hah. lmfao. good one.

The Magician: How does your character unleash their creativity or resourcefulness?

OH THEIR TECH/TACT ASS THRIVES WHENEVER YOU GIVE THEM SOMETHING TO FIX. doesnt matter if its physical (like building something) or mental (problem solving), they get so much enrichment. hes so. So jealous of mortum. sometimes hell poke through the armor to get an idea of how it works. the Other way they like to let out their creativity is by sparring. i dont know if i talked about it before but they Love to fight, its rapidfire decision making and a good way to release the pent up restless energy they have. theres a sort of beat to fights that he finds enchanting. coming up with strategies for future fights is also a good way to keep them entertained.

questions from here!

[vfx-batman]

More than any other Bat, Cass is guided not by a selective grasp on the law (like Bruce, Babs, Dick, + Tim), but by her instincts + her intuitive, situational morality guided by her true north: a PTSD-instilled prime directive against killing.

You really see this in her Puckett run where she's presented with a sequence of ethical dilemmas + is figuring out what she thinks + believes in real time. Like when she learns in Batgirl #10 that she can't just throw herself in front of every bullet, because the shooter will just step over her + kill their victim anyway. This, to my mind, is so much more interesting than the static Cass pervading fan spaces who's never given a chance to develop new ideas or beliefs because she's got the quote unquote Best Morality. Yawn. [Reading comprehension clarifier —> I'm not talking about her going 180 on her stance against killing. Murder is not the only issue or ethical dilemma in the world.]

This inadvertently brings me onto the subject of Cass + killers - that nebulous group of people committing those pesky acts which traumatise her all over again.

Cass is not a reactionary who hates all killers + wants to beat them bloody. But Cass is also not a saviour with infinite sympathy for killers, someone who tries to help them all reform. From Puckett's run (which I consider her core texts) her relationships to killers are all uniquely attuned to their respective contexts. What I mean to say is, her empathy for a killer relies upon whether she sees something within them that she relates to in some way on that particular day.

This happens quite notably in Batgirl #19. Cass tries to save the death row prisoner from a state-sanctioned execution not merely because that's what she does (stop death), but also because his death is taking place on the very date in August when she killed a man upon David Cain's urging. She psychologically cannot allow this to go ahead because it means re-living that day from so many years ago. Saving this victimiser who is soon to be a victim allows her to re-write her own tragedy, seemingly stepping back in time to save herself from what she does. Therefore she symbolically intents to save the dead man she killed as well as recoup her innocence. But this is Batman. Our hero cannot rewind the original tragedy that made him. Nor the tragedy that made him anew after ADITF. Cass is no different.

When Cass listens to the mother of his victim, who tells her that it doesn't matter if the prisoner changed + feels remorse, because her child is still dead + he was the one who killed her, it feeds into Cass's death wish. This means that she is still actively relating to the prisoner when she decides to give up on her own chances of atonement + by that extension, any chance of his atonement. She listens + feels for the mother, + it convinces her that she can never actually atone. She then simultaneously decides that the man she has related to must also be incapable of atonement, + so gives up on the idea that he deserves a second chance.

To mention a few other times when Cass shows sympathy for killers or would-be killers because she related to them:

1. She organised new identity documents for the government assassin who murdered civilians in Batgirl #13 before he experienced remorse for these deaths. She does so explicitly b/c he jumped out of the way of a child. Cass is a woman who trusts in instinct + who believes she is bad in part because she has killer instincts (despite this being a product of David's training). Since he does not have those instincts, she latches onto him as someone who is unlike her + therefore good.

2. In Batgirl #16, she wanted to help the person she believed was that kid's 'bad dad' bank robber escape the law - even after knowing he killed a security guard. This stems from how she craves the idea that her 'bad dad' isn't so bad after all. That David Cain will take the second chance to become a better person should she offer it.

But she is not always so kind. In Puckett's run, she is also merciless against various killers + her inability to relate to them often underlines why:

1. There are too many to specify, but first must come the various men she beats + in some cases physically disables in order to reach her objective. Batman has observed that she is surgical in her movements, but it’s important that despite her clinical approach to combat in these cases, she takes no interest in their inner lives or motives. Let alone offer them the second chances which I detailed above.

2. As a specific example, in Batgirl #17, she beats the shit out of the man who killed John (the man she failed to save in #2). Although this issue fixates on how her feelings of hurt aren’t alleviated by what she’s done (in contrast to what Bruce told her), I find it significant that she doesn’t sees anything like herself or her situation in this guy, + as such, he receives no sympathy from her.

3. Most revealingly is what she does in Batgirl #6, when a man shoots dead his own companion (in order to get to her). She’s outraged by what she’s seen + her way of dealing with the man responsible is to stop his heart to "see how you like it" + so he'll "know how he felt". This reveals the crux of her issues —> she thinks he cannot envisage death. That b/c he wasn’t forever traumatised as a child by the ordeal of staring into the soul of the person he killed & experiencing vicariously what it was like to die. That he isn't like her.

And so she lets him into her greatest trauma. And then he is like her. And then she can help him.

TL;DR - Cass’s empathy is dispensed when she relates to a person or sees something within them that pertains to her situation (e.g. her problems with David Cain). By the end of her ongoing, we are told that these empathetic feelings have expanded to encompass the whole world (“you care about everybody. And everybody dies”), but since that’s a tell not show from a non-Puckett author who then has her go on to kill her mother to save Shiva’s future victims, it isn’t relevant right now to this analysis.

[tiffyw]

in the dead of night

pair: josh washington x reader warnings: drinking, drinking+driving, smoking, weed song inspiration: dead of night by orville peck, golden age by ethel cain wc: ~2.4k synopsis: you're with josh at the lodge, and he wakes you up to go get more beer a/n: first fanfic ever :D this is heavily self indulgent and a bit cliche... i don't encourage drinking+driving btw, its inspired by that cassie/nate scene in euphoria!! i hope you enjoy! also ive only smoked once so sorry if this is not accurate credits to cafekitsune for divider

“...H...ey…”

 A warm touch shakes you awake, followed by a deep and raspy voice. The sound fades in and out to your unconscious being, slowly growing louder. The crackling of the fireplace lulls you back into sleep. You let it. The blankets are soft and warm, the smell of faint men’s cologne wafting towards you. Snuggling in further, you groan a noise of protest toward the familiar presence approaching you. 

“...I know, I know. You’re adorable, but you still have to wake up.”

It finally registers that you definitely won’t be left alone to sleep, to your dismay. A faint memory from time spent in the unconscious realm drifts around your brain. No matter how hard you try to focus on it, though, you just can’t seem to pinpoint what occurred. Something inside tells you that it was a pleasant dream, atleast. 

Rubbing at your bleary eyes, you peel your eyelids open slowly. Lashes fluttering, your childhood best-friend finally comes into focus, eyes finally adjusted to the light.

“It’s time to ride, pornstar!” His mouth stretches, flashing a grin that you know all too well. He seems way too excited for just some random night. Something is off, you think. He seems almost… jittery.

You’re not given more time to dwell on it; it comes to your attention that he’s holding the keys to his truck when the metal jingles together in his grip. Straightening from your previously sprawled position on the couch, you stare at him in disbelief. 

“In the dead of night, Josh? Seriously?” Eyes playfully glaring at him, you’re not actually mad that he woke you up. He must have had a reason to, anyway. 

“The others are coming tomorrow, apparently,” he drawled, running his hand through his hair. “Chris said that he’ll be here soon, though. Gotta grab more beer extra early!” He emphasized the ‘extra’, dragging out the end.

Your prediction had been correct, then. The other bit wasn’t entirely unexpected. The bi-annual party was always something you looked forward to; it occurred once in the summer and once in the winter. It didn’t surprise you that everybody decided to come a day earlier than expected, but you wished you would’ve had just a little more time alone with Josh. 

“So, what are you waiting for?” you asked, shrugging the blankets off you onto the couch. Your hands instinctively found work, fidgeting with the hem of your cutoff denim shorts; they showed off the plush of your thighs underneath. You had shaved days before, enduring a grueling shower that left your skin raw and red. Soft and velvet-smooth skin emerged from it, meant for him, although he didn’t know it.

His eyes followed where your fingertips led, staring for a moment too long. 

“... You.” he finally answered. Tilting his head, his eyes came back to meet yours. “Duh.”  

The winding roads outside of Blackwood Mountain weren’t unfamiliar to you. You and Josh had known each other since the first grade, and Mr. and Mrs. Washington had begun inviting you to stay at the lodge since your first summer in middle school. From there, it had settled into a routine - spending your summers at the lodge, watching Josh and his father play baseball, exchanging gossip with Beth and Hannah on the sidelines. Your parents didn’t mind; they instead encouraged you to spend time with Josh and his family, hoping that you two would eventually get together. 

“Cute boy,” your mother remarked. “Do you like him?”

Face burning at the thought, you took a sip of your beer. The last one from the lodge kitchen, taken for the trip to buy even more of its caliber. How silly, you thought. 

Your mother wasn’t off, though – rather, she was right on the dot. You did have a crush on Josh. It came aflame when you watched him swing that dinky metal baseball bat during that first summer at the lodge, and simmered throughout the remainder of high-school. 

You’re taken out of your thoughts when Josh’s hand brushes yours.

“Pass me the beer,” he requests, never taking his eyes off the road. For someone so visually attentive, he drives almost lazily, with only one hand on the wheel. His other hand was already extended, motioning for the bottle.

“Josh, drinking while driving is illegal.” you deadpan.

“Well, it’s just one sip. I’m thirsty.”

You pause for a moment, mulling over the decision. It’s not like he’s a lightweight. 

“... Don’t crash.”

 You hand the neck of the bottle to him, taking the opportunity to watch the muscles in his neck flex attractively as he drinks. The beer is clearly starting to take effect; you don’t even care about being subtle or not. Eyes drifting to his arms, his flannel barely veils the thickness of his bicep underneath. You watch attentively as he sets the bottle down in the cup-holder and moves to increase the volume of the radio. 

A country singer croons over dreamy guitar chords, voice reverberating through the truck. You recognize the song as a CD that Josh owns, one of his favorites. The moonlight illuminates his features beside you, seeping through the arches composed of overhead branches. He glances back at you, smiling softly. The sight makes your stomach flip like a pancake; you’ve never seen him smile like that at anybody. Warmth spreads throughout your being, feeling gummy like toasted marshmallow fluff in your abdomen. 

Spotting the bright LED lights of the corner liquor store, Mari’s, you perk up. No one else is there, except for an old blue sedan you recognize as the store owner’s. Josh pulls into the lot, smoothly parking into a space facing the empty road. He keeps the engine on for you, telling you that he’ll be back soon and to lock the doors after he leaves. Slamming the door shut, the truck shakes slightly with the impact.

You do as he says, fingers fumbling around to press the ‘lock’ button. Leaning back, you watch his tall figure disappear in the rearview mirror with a deep sigh. There’s an old, familiar-looking friendship bracelet hanging from it that you never noticed before. It matches with the one resting on your wrist. I thought he got rid of that a long time ago. 

Left alone, your mind begins to wander. It lands on the same topic again as earlier: your feelings for your best-friend. 

It’s not like you can get rid of it. Spending every summer and winter break with him, you two were close enough to share rooms, beds, and clothes. Throughout the years, you’d watch him bring other girls around, ones that looked the opposite of you. The most recent one lasted two years. It hurt, but also fueled you to do the same. Dating never worked out for you, though. Your boyfriends had always been insecure of your relationship with him, causing arguments. They weren’t wrong to be, you remark. It always ended the same way: you, breaking up with them, because Josh mattered more to you than any of them.

 Familiarity also prevented any attempts at distancing away from Josh – you never wanted to be apart from him for that long. He always wanted to be around you, too. The hurt derived from your attachment wasn’t all unpleasant, anyway. It cut deep, sure, but you didn’t mind. You’ve laid in bed back-to-back with Josh countless times, curled up in a ball, silent tears leaking through the corners of your eyes. The tears staining your pillowcase were never discovered, always evaporating back into that same cotton navy blue the next morning. The pain felt like second nature with how often it occurred, but you were somewhat content with it. Instead of drowning in your sorrow, you found comfort, relishing in the feeling. It was strange, but you knew that.

When the driver’s side door opens, you jump. Heavy wooden caddies full of chilled beer bottles are placed into your lap, your hands instinctively wrapping around them to keep them from tipping over. Looking over in his direction, you find that Josh is observing you, a strange look in his eye. He seems to snap out of it as soon as you notice, hopping into the driver’s seat. He slams the door shut, turning to you:

“You ready?” 

The ride back isn’t all that exciting. It’s silent, but not uncomfortably so; your friendship with Josh is far past that point. However, you still decide to insert a different disc into the player, choosing an album from one of your favorite artists. The record, in particular, reminded you of Josh. Deep down, though, you know it’s not for no reason; rather, it’s because you keep relating the lyrics to him. 

Plucked guitar and haunting vocals begin to quietly fill the spaces between the two of you, the lyrics silent implications you prayed he wouldn’t pick up on. Mist fills your eyes as the woman’s melancholy tone reaches your ears. You had gotten what you wanted, being close with Josh, but it wasn’t enough for you. You wanted more. Blinking it away, you don’t want to cry in front of him, but it’s too late to change the track. The entrance leading to the mountain is already in sight. 

Driving up to the lower cable-car station, you suddenly feel like you don’t want to go back up to the lodge just yet. When he rolls down the windows before parking the truck, it’s evident that your companion feels the same way. He lets the song close out completely before turning off the ignition, preventing an abrupt silence. 

In the dim moonlight, it’s just you, him, and the crickets chirping in the woods now. Leaning over, he unlocks the glove compartment, a polaroid picture sitting on top of a plastic bag. You smile, observing that it’s a photo of you and him at senior prom, with silly crowns on the tops of your heads. He pulls out the small bag, a thin cylindrical object in it along with a metal flip-top lighter, then shuts the compartment. Squinting in the dim-light, you identify it as a pre-rolled joint. Rolling your eyes, you’re not surprised. He always did like being prepared, hence the late-night trip to the liquor store. Actually, you’re more intrigued that the smell isn’t seeping through the plastic.

“Wanna smoke?” he asks, pulling it out and holding it close to your mouth.

You don’t have to answer verbally; instead, you just wrap your lips around the end of the joint. His eyes, attentive as ever, follow the movement. Pupils dilating, he lights it for you, cupping your cheek gently to keep you still. The flame highlights his features, casting a warm glow on both of your faces.

Drawing a long pull and exhaling it out the window, you pass it to him after. Feeling relaxed, you watch him do the same. He chokes slightly on it, causing you to giggle at him. 

“Shush,” he chuckles nervously back at you, taking another drag and passing it back to you. 

After a couple repeats of this exchange, you finally indicate to him that you’re finished. Flicking the roach out of the window and into the dirt, he lets out a shaky breath. Odd, you remark. He should be relaxed after the weed. 

Adjusting his position in the seat to face you, he breaks the silence. 

“... Hey, I’m really glad that we’re friends,” he starts. 

The word friend cuts deep, but you push through the sting, smiling half-heartedly at him in acknowledgement. Repeating his sentiment back to him hollowly, this is your attempt to hide your disappointment. It’s enough to make you sober up.

“You know, we’ve been close for so long,” he continues, “But you’re special to me. Actually, you’re more than that.” 

He’s starting to sound awkward, and he knows that, suddenly taking your wrist to fiddle with the friendship bracelet on your wrist. It reads, J.W., woven in blue and white. After two summers in the lodge, you felt like a milestone had been reached in your relationship with him, so you had made those bracelets to cement that with him. When you showed them to him, he convinced you to wear the one with his initials rather than the one with yours. It became a running joke in your friend group that you were practically each other's property, wearing the opposite’s initials. You had never disputed the joke, and neither had he.

Letting him fidget with the drawstrings, you shift your body, leaning in towards him slightly. You’re listening quietly, still unsure of what he’s trying to say. There’s no way that he likes me back, you think. You’ve seen the girls that he’s dated. You aren’t his type. It's a mantra, what you tell yourself.

At this point, your faces are so close together, you’re close enough to count the freckles dotting his nose and cheeks. Eyes scanning over his face, you notice how thick his lashes are. His hands are no longer fiddling with your bracelet, instead resting over yours assertively. His eyes flicker down to your lips, just for a moment. 

Cool breath fanning on your warm neck, he breathes, 

“I really li–”

Josh is interrupted by a light suddenly shining in his face, a male voice ringing out against the chirp of crickets. He suddenly jumps away from you, the air turning strange.

“What’s up, bros?” Chris exclaims, flashlight waving around in his hands. 

“Hey, Cochise,” Josh replies, sounding deflated.

You greet Chris as well, hopping out of the car. Josh follows, coming to stand at your side. 

“What are you guys doing out here? Waiting for me, Josh?” Chris jokes. Acting coquettish, he bats his eyes at Josh.

“Yeah, yeah. Totally.” Your best friend monotones, rolling his eyes at the other man. Crossing his arms, he explains: “Just had a smoke, that’s all.” 

Chris hums, content with that answer. “‘Kay. Well, I’m gonna go start the cable-car. It’s like, two in the morning. Man, that ride was long!” Turning around, he walks away.

“It’s fine, Chris. You’ll be able to sleep soon.” Calling out to him, he shoots a thumbs-up at you before entering the small station.

Left alone with Josh, you turn back to him. His arms are still crossed, looking slightly irritated.

“Hey, Josh, what were you gonna say back there?” Trying to remember what he said, you repeat the words to him. “You really what?” 

“Nothing,” A bitter smile makes its way onto his face. “Don’t worry about it, pornstar.”

[fryingpan1234567]

so what if the Bats were Spiders instead?

in a different universe, Bruce Wayne grew up with arachnophobia instead of chiroptophobia. he found secret experiments in a lab beneath their family estate, and it didn’t take him long to pick up the family business.

neurotoxin experiments. spiders.

in a different universe, Bruce Wayne became Spider-Man.

in a different universe, Dick Grayson didn’t need to be bitten by a spider to pick up the Spider-Man mantle. he grew up knowing how to do all the acrobatics and combat anyways— all B had to do was give him web shooters and a suit. but there couldn’t be two Spider-Man’s. so he became Nightwing. but with a blue spider on his chest instead of a bird!

Nightwing’s webs come from his escrima sticks. they’re packing some serious voltage, so sometimes in a pinch he’ll use them instead of his police-issued taser. his favorite part about the whole spider thing is that he can fully just… throw himself off of buildings. and not die. he’s an adrenaline junkie, what can he say?

in a different universe, Jason Todd did everything the same. tried to steal the wheels off the vehicle of the most famous vigilante in Gotham. B picked him up and let him choose the spider and gave him the power to do good.

Robin “giving him magic” didn’t stop the Green Goblin from caving in his skull. although spiders you thought you’d killed do have a way of disappearing.

and returning. in a different universe, the Red Hood took the black widow as his mascot and nobody could do anything in Gotham City without him knowing about it. he single-handedly put down all the arms dealers in the city.

in a different universe, Tim Drake made his own spider. he’d been a fan of Thomas and Bruce Wayne’s work for his whole life, or at least since he learned how to read— and he figured he could get Spider-Man’s attention if he was able to replicate the project as young as he did.

oh, he got Spidey’s attention all right. befriending and adopting an alien symbiote will do that. player 4 has joined the game.

in a different universe, Venom is co-piloted by Tim, who really does like aliens. B thinks it’s a tiny bit weird, but while Tim is tiny his alien companion is very much not. it’s extra armor.

Tim works at the Daily Bugle. nobody knows how exactly he gets the quality kind of photos he does of Gotham’s Spider-family situation, but who’s complaining? he’s just really good at his job.

in a different universe, Cassandra Cain was bitten by a spider before she even met Bruce Wayne. her mother had trained her for combat for her whole life. she couldn’t prepare her for superpowers.

B was happy to help. in a different universe, rather than Cass becoming Blackbat, she took on the alias Black Widow. watch your back for her, though. she’s got the same deadly instinct in every universe.

in a different universe, Stephanie Brown became the first Spider-Woman. of course, she wasn’t the only one, but there’s something about being the original, isn’t there?

she knows she’s funny. she thinks it’s part of the job; it feels right. she’s the closest to the average canon Spider-Man. she could’ve been recruited to the Society at any point in time. and there’s something about that too.

in a different universe, Damian Wayne was born with superpowers. he’d inherited Bruce’s from birth. Talia was quick to hand him off once she realized her baby could crawl on walls and ceilings. the Spider Cave was getting a bit crowded, but what’s one more dangerous, unpredictable, biologically enhanced child? bring it on.

aside from Hood, Tarantula is the only Spider willing to kill a man on the field. yeah, as in. bird-eating tarantula. Robin. get it?

of course, in a different universe, he still had his katana. wouldn’t be Damian Wayne without it. his favorite thing is to swing down from a skyscraper with his webs and run through bad guys like kebabs. B says it’s immoral, but who can be mad about stabbing Doc Ock’s goons?

in another universe, Duke Thomas is the most famous member of the family. he’s the other closest to canon Spider-Man. he takes the day jobs, he talks to the press, he’s the least-hated at the Daily Bugle.

his webs glow. that makes night ops harder. so he sticks to the sunlight. people started calling him the Spider-Signal. which doesn’t make a lot of sense? but Duke is the kinda guy to just kinda shrug it off, because he’s not gonna take on the entire city’s press on his own.

Miguel O’Hara stayed the bleeding hell away from this universe. this group of bats spiders were too unpredictable to have in the Spider Society at all. there were no missions there, but constant surveillance. (until. you know. Miles Morales rocked up with a proposition to take down a tyrannical system with horrible judgement and a corrupted leader. and then Miguel couldn’t ignore the Wayne family anymore.)

how I love the multiverse. endless possibilities, amirite?

(please ask me to write more for this au. drabbles. more characters. PLEASE)

[roseworth]

what direction do you think they should have gone in with jason? as in where should he be now in terms of people and what he's doing

i think winick had it exactly right green arrow #69-72 and batman & robin #23-25. he was a villain but he had a Method and a Purpose. and usually that purpose was just to fuck with batman. i loooove it when hes a villain and hes very clearly doing bad things, but hes not just indiscriminately killing people. hes doing it for a reason, hes still doing the same thing he was doing in utrh by controlling the drug trade, and even when hes doing the right thing hes being an asshole about it

i especially love the ga issues because jason doesnt even talk to batman but bruce KNOWS what hes doing and he knows its about him. i love the bruce & jason post-utrh dynamic where they've both pretty much said everything they have to say and neither of them is changing their position, so now jason is just starting fires to get attention. "ok bruce you dont want to talk to me? thats fine. ill just follow you to star city then psychologically torture a teenage girl then blow her up in front of you" icon! i forgive him! i think its so fun when red hood is a member of batman's rogues gallery and bruce feels bad every time he fights him but also he kinda cant stand him since he knows jason is only doing it to mess with him and its working. but also jason is a Greater Good person so he DOES end up working with the bats sometimes just because theyre also working on the good side

anyways the ideal bruce & jason dynamic to me is "the love was there and it made everything so much worse" because jason is doing everything for bruces attention because he loves him and wants him to care about him but hes not willing to budge on his own morals and neither is bruce. and bruce loves jason so he doesnt want to arrest him or put him in danger but also hes killing people and doing terrible things and bruce is batman so he feels obligated to. yk. stop him. and as much as they both love each other they do not like each other at all

in my mind jason doesnt really care about any of the other bats besides dick & babs just because he knew them before he died so hes willing to hang out with them but they Do Not want to see him. like in brothers in blood when jason goes hiiiii dick <3 lets hang out <3333 and dick is constantly suppressing the cain instinct. he never really talks to babs pre52 but i think their interactions would be very similar in that jason goes hey babs ur so cool <33 and she says jason get the fuck away from me or im activating the bomb in your helmet <3

but also with steph even though he didnt know her pre-death,, i think he would like her. i can imagine him doing something very similar to what he did with mia, basically finding her and going "quit your vigilante career. join my emo band" but i think she would end up being a lot more receptive to it than mia was ! like im thinking batgirl 2009 era steph so she would not be on board with the idea of joining him since things were going well with team batgirl, but i also think that any interaction between the two of them in that era would go well and end with them getting along :)

as for everyone else. i dont think he would care about any of them. theyre just kinda collateral damage in his war with bruce. like he gets involved with them sometimes just because of their proximity to bruce, or like i said earlier that he works with them sometimes because he cares about the greater good so is willing to help them when necessary. also honorable mention to aoifa's headcanon that jason doesnt actually know tims name because he just does not care. thats canon to me

so yeah in conclusion: he should be a morally grey villain that does what he does either for the greater good, or to fuck with batman, or both. and he has complicated relationships with all of them bc he likes bruce dick and babs but also kinda hates all of them and they like but also hate him too. and the rest of them he doesn't really give a shit about

[grllmx]

"Ragatha in Wonderland"

🌻 Them side by side for height difference 🌻

Heya!! Y'all wouldn't mind some info dump, would ya?

But before I share my thoughts and ideas for this au, note that I am making this all for fun and that I am only merging two concepts at once because they sound fun in my head!

-- So without further ado, let's start shall we?

Ragatha in Wonderland is a fun silly lil' au I thought about in my spare time (Though I am aware that I'm not the only person who had similar ideas) buuut! Here's my take on how this concept goes ~

💜🟣🎀- - - - - RAGATHA IN WONDERLAND - - - - -🎀🟣💜

🌻 Wonderland is similar yet different from the Circus. Many possibilities await in this newly found land, but wait... How odd, suddenly everyone and everything is of new variation! Did things really stay the same? Are things different? It's a confusing world that warped and transformed the original digital land into something new. New places to explore, new outfits! New concepts... New people? It seems everything changed. Perhaps even... True death is possible now.

Ragatha - Plays the role as Alice. Confused and bewildered at first but Ragatha progressively adapts to the world and the surroundings around her. Acts like herself for the first portions of the story but as she dwells longer in this 'wonderland' she loses herself, her identity, as if the place was sucking out all of 'her'. She'll meet a lot of familiar faces. She feels comforted, knowing that she isn't alone in this newly found world but little does she know - they are not what she seemed.

Jax - The white rabbit leading Ragatha to wonderland. Jax was the one who dragged her in this, so Ragatha's first instincts was to follow him, hoping he knows where the exit is. Though he often plays tricks, teasing and playing with Ragatha's head whenever given the chance. Maybe he doesn't sound like a reliable shoulder to lean on, but he is Ragatha's key in terms of escaping wonderland.

Gangle - Starring as the mouse and the dormouse. The first person (other than Jax) Ragatha meets in wonderland. Gangle is skittish and has an extreme fear of cats. She does not like hearing or mentioning them, her mouse-like features says so otherwise. Though, in later unfortunate events, Ragatha scares her by mentioning, you guess it, cats. And then flees elsewhere.

Zooble - Following the (possibly tobacco) smoke trails, enters in the wise caterpillar. Meeting for the first time was not fun, in Ragatha's case mostly. Zooble asks Ragatha a lot of questions, typically centering around herself which gradually starts her descend into madness. Zooble's questions hit hard for Ragatha, making her realize a lot of things and learn more about the world. Though one question stuck the most, "who are YOU?"

Caine - The Hatter/Mad hatter. Need I say more? Hehe, anyways... Caine, alongside Bubble, is notably the most mad or insane person living in wonderland. Always yapping about random things (Riddles, jokes, factual statement... you name it) that can either be truth or made up, which Ragatha can't tell the difference of since they are always so surreal and deranged, or in other words, utter nonsense! He is another character that made Ragatha's mental state and mindset deteriorate. (Ragatha wishes to never meet him again)

Pomni - It's Pomni! Though, something is off... Pomni's role is the Cheshire cat. She's willing to help Ragatha escape, even suggesting ideas that felt to be possible, but are things really that easy? No, of course not! She is a red herring, a person filled with mischief that fools and plays with her victims until she deems them boring. Ragatha meets Pomni in the woods right after she ran away from Caine, and just like Jax, Pomni plays with Ragatha's head. But eventually helps her out and leads her to the kingdom's garden.

Kinger - Sometimes, a king is fit to be queen. Kinger is the Queen of Hearts, a short tempered, bossy but childish queen. After first meeting, Ragatha didn't deem Kinger as a threat at first, even playing a simple game of croquet with him. But as she starves and remembers that hunger was present in this land, she secretly ate the queen's well-known 'tarts'. This resulted into the seething rage of Kinger, declaring a court trial in which Ragatha was later proven to be 'guilty'. Hence, "OFF WITH HER HEAD!"

🌻 So, spoiler alert -- Just like in original tales and stories inspired by Alice in Wonderland, this was all in Ragatha's head, a dream! I'm debating to either turn this into a comic or not, because I think it helps further explain my ideas, but who knows? Maybe with the right motivation and energy, I might do it.

Thank you for reading! Have a nice day/night 🌻

[rewrittenwrongs]

Having thoughts about the League of Assassins. It’s pretty common among them to form hierchy/ranking around who’s a better fighter and who beat/killed who. I can’t remember if it’s canon but I like the idea that to prove your teacher has taught you all they have to teach you must kill them (not sure how that applies to history/math/whatever but. Moving on.) Working off of that idea, a lot of assassins in the organisation would already respect Tim for causing the death/defeat of the Council of Spiders; assassins that are so skilled they kill other assassins for fun. Him then TRICKING RA’S AL GHUL AND BLOWING UP (almost??) ALL OF HIS BASES, AND THEN OUTSMARTING HIM AGAIN WHEN HE TRIES TO DESTROY EVERYTHING BATMAN HAS BUILT, I feel like it’s reasonable to assume a lot of them would’ve decided Tim is the bigger threat or at least proved himself very formidable and a large threat. I imagine a lot of them would’ve sought him out in Gotham and pledged loyalty to him (kind of like Minions seeking out the evilest leader thanks for that thought brain), maybe doing full on traditional rituals to prove the transferring of their loyalty, like blood oaths or ritual spars idk, maybe giving him gifts or displaying their skills so he accepts them as allies rather than being disrespected and killing or maiming them since that’s the standard they expect in the League.

And Tim is uh. Very confused. Very surprised. And also trying hard not to show it. He accepts all the gifts and pledges and shit, because he sure as fuck ain’t gonna turn them back to Ra’s, but after that he doesn’t really know what to do with them. He hires a bunch of them at Wayne Enterprise and Drake Industries, tasks a bunch of them with working for Red Hood on the down low, maybe sends a couple on undercover missions to Arkham Asylum so they start treating inmates as actual human beings and stop using shock therapy or something, and makes sure to write them all up fair contracts and great pay with good work bonuses and plenty of leave, and makes sure most or all of them start going to therapy. The assassins love their new leader and would do practically anything for him.

But anyway, all that aside. I’ve had those thoughts in my head for more than a month. Something that just recently occurred to me is Mara al Ghul. Damian’s cousin. Another child raised by the League of Assassins, only this one never left.

Until, that is, she watches this freshly-immunocompromised vigilante arguably outsmart her grandfather twice, and decides he is the bigger threat, actually, I want to be on his good side when he takes over the world.

So now Tim is being forced into basically adopting this feral child, who’s only experience in American society was undercover missions to kill people, who thinks decapitated heads are reasonable gifts, who’s introduction to Tim was something batshit insane like dumping the Joker’s head in his lap because the Joker is Gotham’s most dangerous rogue and of course Tim will appreciate having him gone. But even with a well crafted facade she can tell Tim is unnerved and horrified, so she must be doing something wrong. Maybe it was because the Joker is Batman’s enemy and not Tim’s specifically? But Tim doesn’t have any arch nemesis aside from maybe Ra’s who she obviously can’t kill, so she does more research into Tim’s life and background and finds out Captain Boomerang killed his father so next she brings Tim HIS head and she can already tell he’s much more pleased this time. But there’s still that edge of unsettlement and wariness, and he’s acting so strange around her, so she digs deeper and finds out about the Titans Tower incident but Tim sent all these other assassins to work for red hood so they must be on good terms, and then she finds out about all the bad blood between him and Damian and Dick so she starts trying to kill them next, starting with Damian obviously (a mix of jealousy over him leaving the league and a good amount of cousin rivalry/cain instinct), but Tim stops the fight and tells her to stand down and now she’s scared that he’s going to punish her and Ra’s’ punishments were always so harsh and perhaps this time she can’t quite fight down the urge to hide.

Meanwhile, Tim is being dragged through a parent arc kicking and screaming, the bats are wondering why the hell there are suddenly so many assassins only after they scare off Ra’s, Jason is more or less vibing because he thinks the assassins are from Talia and the Joker’s dead so of course he’s ecstatic (even tho he wishes he knew who did it so he can thank them), Dick and Damian are still reeling from learning Bruce is alive/getting him back from the time stream when all of a sudden this masked child comes out of nowhere mid patrol and attacks Damian, and isn’t backing down even though Dick arrived quickly but when Red Robin arrives and yells stop she’s already three rooftops away by the time he’s done speaking. Everyone is tired and doesn’t know what the hell is going on except mayybe Oracle.

[starryytales]

More Manipulative Ragatha.

ACK-

This was meant to be ~500 words and one part of a short story that went into detail of Ragatha doing different things on different days to push Pomni's boundaries, get her closer, etc. And was inspired by yesterday's ask about Ragatha intentionally throwing herself into harm's way to get hurt and get Pomni's attention.

Instead it ballooned up into a little over 2000 words and will be something of a standalone.

I would like to give my thanks and dedicate this to @miguxadraws whose enthusiasm helped push me to hit the ground running with this one!

With that said: small TW for needles (the sewing kind), and I hope you all enjoy..!

“I’m never sure how to start these things…”

I muse to myself as I tap the colorful pencil’s eraser against the empty, waiting page of my journal. Being the second longest lasting person in The Digital Circus changes how you think about information. Unlike Kinger, for example, I’m doing my best to not go insane by holding on to every piece of information until my mind snaps and I become amnesic. That means writing things down. Journal writing and compartmentalizing things. Separating the bad from the good and keeping the good close and the bad locked away.

“I suppose starting with this morning wouldn’t be a bad idea.” I flip the pencil around and begin jotting down what all happened…

Pomni woke up on me today. I didn’t bother with sleeping. Instead I just enjoyed watching her quietly snore throughout the night. God, she’s so cute when she’s asleep. She’s even more cute when she’s startled. She woke up, adorably mumbling about whatever dream she was having (I heard my name!!!), and stared up at me for a few moments. I didn’t say anything because she was clearly still out of it and wouldn’t have understood me anyway. When she realized she was using me as a full body pillow she let out wildest little yipe I’ve ever heard. She nearly hit the ceiling from jumping off of me so hard! It took a hot moment and a re-heated, leftover salmon cake to calm her down after that. I let her get dressed in peace (thank you again, God, for giving me a button eye to stealth watch with) and she left with a sweet little smile on her face.

I pause writing for a moment when I hear someone trying to stay quiet while working on something outside my door. Probably Jax. Probably with a bucket of insects and some kind of mechanical trap setup. I shake my head irritably but stay quiet. Jax would have been a lovely boy toy to keep if not for the fact he can’t stop being a punk for more than ten seconds. My single regret with him is that he only had one heart to break. The sound of his trap construction jolts me back to writing by jogging my memory.

The adventure!

How could I have nearly forgotten that when it was a huge amount of progress with Pomni?

Caine rounded us all up just like he does basically every other day.

“HELLO MY MUTANT MASHED POTATOES TODAY’S ADVENTURE BLAH BLAH BLAH-”

It was some kind of movie-like, ancient temple we had to find the treasure room of. The important part was Pomni and I took the ‘medium’ difficulty route, and we did it by ourselves. I was just about to see how well she dealt with an unprompted hand on her shoulder when I realized I had seen the hallway we were in before on a different adventure. Caine doesn’t just re-use NPCs, he re-uses chunks of levels sometimes. And I knew we were about 15 steps away from a circular saw trap that would shoot out from the wall and try to leave us with a nasty cut, to put it lightly.

My first instinct was to let Pomni walk into it. I thought it’d probably go right through her leg, maybe even both of them. I’d have to carry her all the way to the end and she’d have no choice BUT let me hold her. My better judgment got a hold of me, though. That was an awful plan. She’d hate being useless and dependent on me (at the moment, anyway). But I could still use the trap to my advantage to make her touch me…

I suddenly remembered why I nearly forgot the whole thing. Ever feel so much pain your body and brain try to factory reset?

“Hey, I think I’ve seen this hallway before.” I told her as I switched the side of her I was walking on. I picked up my pace slightly to make sure I triggered the saw without catching her as collateral. I braced myself as hard as I could without letting on something was up. A small part of me was begging to just not do this, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.

“Really?”

“Yeah! From a different adventure!”

And I think she was going to ask if I remembered anything helpful about it. That’s about when a single stone beneath my foot pressed down and I let out probably the longest running censor-bleep in Digital Circus history. The saw was as quick as lightning. My left arm, right above my elbow, was effortlessly sliced off, and the blade tore through my side like I was made of paper. I screamed and fell away from the blade. I landed against the wall opposite of it and started sliding down to the floor. Good God it hurt so bad I was seeing stars. Pomni shrieked and rushed over to me, hovering over me like she’d found a murdered body in an alleyway. I was in too much pain to get her to stop screaming for a moment so I could tell her what to do, and then she said that she would go get help.

That lit quite the fire under me, because:

1. I needed to get her used to touching me by getting her to patch me up, and, perhaps more importantly-

2. I’M TIRED OF HER RUNNING OFF WHEN I AM IN INCREDIBLE PAIN.

I have to say, despite the pain I was in, I was pretty slick with my next words.

Any person scared and hurt might say ‘don’t leave me,’ but if I left it at that, she might have just offered me a platitude about being back as soon as she could be. I had to twist the knife. She managed a single step away before I lunged at her foot and seized her ankle. I didn’t need to pretend to cry, as there were plenty of real, agonized tears.

“Please don’t leave me again!”

The ‘again’ sold it like beer at a college ball game. Oh, it hurt to see so much remorse in her eyes but it’ll make her think twice before running off again in the future. She dropped to her knees next to me and sputtered a dozen apologies before going quiet when I placed my hand on her upper leg to get her attention.

I remember gritting my teeth and having to hiss through the pain to direct her to my dress pocket (conveniently on the same side I was missing an arm on, and oh my how those little hands wander in a pocket) where I had my emergency sewing kit. Ugh. I could have died from cute-overload while watching her fumble so shakily while trying to thread that needle. When she finally managed it she looked at me with huge, worried eyes for guidance on what to do next.

I pause again to enjoy the memory of her looking at me that way. It’s almost dreamy to picture her like that. So nervously hanging off my every word… I could REALLY get used to that. Where was I? Oh, right, my little jester doing doll surgery on my side.

Feeling her touching me gently was so, so nice. And she listens so well. I bet if I told her that the stitching would only hold if she barked like a puppy, she might have actually done it. I’m so used to sewing myself up that the little pricks of the needle barely registered to me, so I up-sold the pain they caused. Clenching my teeth and (remaining) fist, and scrunching my eyes while hiccuping every few seconds as if I were holding back a breakdown. She paused once and held my cheek, and told me if I needed a break she would stop. AGH. I could have eaten her alive on the spot for being so sweet! Instead I sighed, enjoyed the touch, and thanked her but said I was okay...

I love Pomni to bits but she sews like a blind grandmother with arthritis. No cut like that is ever good or easy to work with, but even Gangle manages a cleaner stitch on a bad day. Still, that meant we got to spend the rest of the adventure like that. Her pressed up against my side, trying her best to hold as steady as possible, while keeping my stuffing from falling out as she stitches me back shut. Definitely worth every ounce of pain. When she was done she even crawled over to my arm and offered to try putting it back on. Absolutely precious.

I told her not to worry about the arm. Caine could fix it when we get back, and about when I said that our AI Overlord’s voice rang clear throughout the structure. Caine congratulated Gangle and Kinger for reaching the treasure room first, and declared the adventure over. Pomni and I fell through a portal that suddenly opened beneath us, and just like that we were back in the tent.

Caine looked me over and quipped I had gotten “too adventurous for my own good,” before snapping his fingers and fixing my arm. He then said something about seashells and vanished. The others were already heading their separate ways when I walked over to Pomni and hugged her. She jumped slightly, but didn’t pull away. I thanked her as warmly as I could for staying with me, and I saw on her face that same guilt from earlier being soothed slightly. It wasn’t enough to put her at peace, but enough so she knows I will happily praise her for doing something good.

I let her go and I offered her another meal tonight – if she was feeling up to it, that is. I could see her putting real thought into it-

My writing is once again interrupted by a dainty knock at the door.

“Ragatha? I’m here for dinner, but-” I quickly slam my journal shut and hide it away again. The last thing Pomni needs to see is the contents of that book. I hop up from my chair with a spring in my step and grab the doorknob, only for Pomni to suddenly shout.

“D-don’t open the door yet! There’s a bucket full of something on the door frame. It’s attached to some kind of trigger. Kinger’s getting it down now.”

I hear Kinger scraping something metallic away from the door before the man himself speaks up.

“Oh! That’s where you’ve all been. How do my centipedes keep winding up in buckets..?”

I had clean forgotten Jax trapped the door. The thought of being stuck with a bucket on my head as all of Kinger’s little hellspawns crawl over my face is almost enough to make me throw up, pass out, and start writing a manifesto. All at the same time. Did I say earlier I only have one regret about Jax? I have two. And the second is that I can’t drown him in the cellar.

“Okay! It’s safe now!”

Cautiously I crack open the door. My eyes are drawn to the movement of Kinger walking down the hallway with a bucket full of nightmares in his arms, but I quickly focus back on to Pomni. I let out a low, tired sigh and smile at her.

“You saved me twice in one day.” I try not to swoon, but it still kind of comes out that way. The little blush she starts sporting on her face doesn’t help.

“Ah- don’t worry about it.”

God she’s so cute when she’s bashful. I open the door and step aside to welcome her in with a playful flourish.

“Well, come on in! A hero deserves her heroic feast! I’ll get on it right away.”

“A heroic feast of spaghetti and meatballs?” She laughs, the sound as sweet as wine, as she enters and steps passed me. I laugh back with her as I start to shut the door so we can start another night off right.

“And garlic bread, that’s the really heroic part!”

[jaxthedouchebag]

staring at you || Jax X reader thingy || (part4)

heads up: she/her pronouns will be used, no sexual topics, and probably some headcanons!! (read part1 - part3 first)

it had been about a month since you entered the circus, and you and Jax had been hanging out a lot more. whenever you were on an adventure, he stuck near you. needed a teammate on an adventure? he chose you. his pranks didn’t seem as bad. it was weird, you were kinda happy about it, but still very odd. you figured that when he was flustered that night, that it was just cause he didn’t expect you to say something back. you doubted he liked you, but started second guessing because he was really staring you down during another adventure.. (flashback thingy coming btw)

caine had put you guys on a hide and seek adventure, you had done this one twice by now. though, the first time, you guys had paintball guns. let’s just say that caine learned not to give one of those to a person like Jax, poor gangle.. but anyways, bubble was gonna seek, and everyone else (except caine) were gonna hide. but of course, Jax didn’t lose where you had gone, he followed you to your hiding spot, and you didn’t even know until you got there. you had found a nice dark, but dim lit room in the circus. it had pillows everywhere, and some couches. but there was a big structure in there, you weren’t sure what it was supposed to be, but you hid behind it. as soon as you sat down, you heard Jax’s voice. ���I think I’m gonna hide here too” your heart skipped a beat as your face went pale. you jumped at his voice, not expecting him to be there, especially because of how quiet everything was. “JEEZ… Jax… you scared me..” you sighed. “I could tell” Jax said in a snarky tone. he sat down next to you, but your arms were literally touching. “a bit close there, don’t you think?” he looked down at you with a smirk. “Jax, dude, cmon. it’s not even that cramped over here. You have room.” you had noticed that when he looked at you, his pupils widened, he was just kinda examining your face and he kinda leaned in closer. your face became extremely red, and so did his. after a while, you saw his facial expression become softer, his hand reached to touch your face, but you moved back, so his hand went back down and he froze. “sorry- I don’t.. just ignore that.. it was just.. instinct or something..” you could tell he was slightly embarrassed, but his face was still red, and he sat there hugging his legs ever so lightly, while your mind was racing with thoughts, your heart pounding. so did he like you? if not, then what was that? was he gonna kiss you? what was going on?? you started to feel bad, because what if he did like you? did you like him too? you slowly started to realize that you felt just that. you liked him, and didn’t know how, or even why. you tried to deny it, but you couldn’t. you loved how he made you laugh at stupid stuff, how he would lean in while trying to joke around, how he was actually interested in what you had to say, and you just liked him. sure, he wasn’t the nicest to everyone, and you weren’t gonna try to be one of those people that try to fix someone, but maybe if he ended up seeing you treat the others, maybe he’d ease up on them too. It seemed stupid and cliche. but at least you weren’t gonna try to be the person that tries to fix someone, you just had to take what you got.

it had been a while since you two had said anything, still hiding,you realized how stupid this was. overthinking about not trying to fix him? you weren’t even dating, heck, you didn’t even know if he liked you. trying to break the silence, you looked over at him, and slightly put your hand closer to where his was, on the ground. he didn’t notice, so you kept it like that, and thought of something you thought was funny. “do you think if bubble finds us last, he’ll try to give us an award by like.. licking us or something?” Jax choked on air and looked over at you, chuckling. “what??” he said while still choking and laughing. “I mean, I've seen him try!! last time, he tried to lick paint off of gangle when she won, and let’s just say she didn’t consider that an award in the slightest.” which made him laugh even more. you guys just sat there for a bit, making jokes, until bubble found you guys, and you were last. but unfortunately, he didn’t try to lick you guys, to which Jax had said: “thank GOD, thought bubble was gonna lick us like we were lollipops. glad you’re not feeling romantical, bubble.” which made you crack up.

[notklosswift]

Duty & Desires

Chapter 1

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot x Detective Reader

Warnings: Chapter based slightly off of the Cain trial. Assault, Strangulation, Eventual Smut, Angst, Fluff, Possessive and Jealous Alex, Centered on F reader.

Summary: Detective Y/n risks everything to provoke a killer’s confession, nearly getting hurt in the process. ADA Alexandra Cabot, shaken and furious, confronts her in private—leading to a passionate clash of fear, love, and possession.

A/N: Hi ya’ll! Excited to share with you my first fic ever. I’m planning this to have multiple chapters so hit me up if you want to read it on AO3 and I can arrange that. This first chapter was inspired by Barba’s episode with the belt on his neck and also that part in @storiesofsvu ‘s Second Chair Spark. Go check it out if you haven’t! Anyway, please enjoy and your comments, hearts, and reblogs will be much appreciated! 💛

The 16th Precinct SVU squadroom had its own rhythm—a constant current of ringing phones, shuffling case files, and the low murmur of trauma survivors and hardened detectives alike. But even on the loudest days, the squad moved as one. They argued, laughed, clashed—but they had each other's backs. Always.

Detective Y/n Grey had been with SVU for nearly three years. Smart, relentless, calm under pressure. She’d earned her place in that squadroom—and in their lives. Olivia trusted her with open cases, Fin with closed doors, and Elliot with the ones that hit too close. Munch, well… he trusted no one, but he didn’t question her instincts anymore. That said everything.

Then there was Alexandra Cabot.

The ADA had been reassigned to SVU six months ago. Ice in her tone, fire in her work ethic. Most people only saw the former. Y/n had come to recognize both. Especially at 2 a.m. when Alex was still at her desk, heels kicked off, legal pads covered in sharp notes and red ink.

At first, it was purely professional. They worked late. Debriefed after court. Argued about language in motions, strategy, ethics. But somewhere between war room meetings and witness interviews, something shifted. A lingering look. A hand that brushed too close. The silence that sometimes stretched too long when they were alone in Alex’s office.

Still, they kept it contained. Professional. Barely.

Until the Adam Cain case hit the squad like a storm. Two victims. Both women. Both found in their apartments, strangled with belts, bodies posed in disturbing symmetry. Cain had been charming at first. Cooperative. Too cooperative. When he was brought in, he gave them just enough—details he shouldn’t know, just shy of a confession. A sick game.

Alex had thrown herself into the prep. Every night, she and Y/n pored over reports, autopsy photos, psych evaluations. And every night, the space between them got smaller. The tension louder.

But what mattered most: they had him. They knew he did it.

Now they just needed him to say it.

——————————————————————

Late afternoon. The fluorescent lights hum above. A camera blinks red in the corner. Behind the two-way mirror, Olivia, Fin, Elliot, and Munch watch silently. Alexandra Cabot stands near the door, arms crossed, composed but wired with tension. At the table: Adam Cain — smug, cuffed, unbothered. Y/n, lead detective on the case, prepares to start the interrogation.

Alex’s heels click once as she turns slightly to watch Y/n step inside the interrogation room, confidence radiating beneath her blazer. The entire case had led to this moment — and this room, this man.

Adam Cain grinned as Y/n sat across from him, a man who believed he had already won. His victims? Two women strangled with belts, found with deliberate, theatrical staging. He had confessed — sort of. Enough to taunt, not enough to convict. Now they needed him to crack on camera. Fully. Y/n had a plan.

She reached into a brown paper bag and slowly pulled out a leather belt.

Alex tensed. Of rage? Confusion? Or maybe, something else.

Behind the mirror, Olivia’s brows furrowed. Elliot leaned forward. Fin cursed under his breath. Munch went silent.

Y/n didn’t say a word at first. She simply stood and walked slowly around the table. The belt dangled from her fingers.

Adam Cain’s eyes followed her. His grin twitched.

“You recognize this?” Y/n asked coolly.

Cain rolled his eyes. “I recognize that you’re playing dress-up.”

Y/n turned toward the mirror — toward Alex, noticing the fire in her eyes — then back to Cain.

“Mr. Cain, you strangled your victims with belts, isn’t that correct?” Y/n asked.

He shook his head and turned to look at the glass, knowing it was a two-way mirror. “I’m not demonstrating anything for you puppets.”

Her voice dipped low. “Then perhaps you can at least explain how you did it?”

And then, without hesitation, she looped the belt around her own neck. Loose, but clear. Her breath stayed steady. Her eyes locked onto his. Cain’s face twisted—anger, disgust, confusion.

Alex’s stomach dropped.

Y/n’s voice was ice. “Show me how it felt, Adam.”

Alex, jaw clenched, turned to Olivia. “Liv, did you know about this?”

“No, I wouldn’t have approved of this if I had known. What the hell is she doing!” Olivia whispered. No one answered.

“You strangled them with belts. Like this?” Y/n’s voice didn’t shake. Adam’s grin cracked. “That’s cute.”

“Then show me,” Y/n said. “Demonstrate it. Or are you afraid?”

His eyes flared. “You’re baiting me.”

“Am I?” Y/n leaned forward, belt still around her neck. “Or am I giving you exactly what you want?”

Something dark flashed in Cain’s face. He lunged forward. The cuffed chain around his wrists gave just enough slack for him to grab the end of the belt. He yanked, hard.

Alex, with fire in her eyes, pounded the mirror, almost screaming to Elliot, “Get in there!”

But Y/n twisted just in time — the belt whipped from her neck and looped around her forearm instead. The room erupted as Olivia and Elliot burst through the door. Fin pulled Cain off her.

“You think this is a joke?!” Cain screamed. “They begged! They begged me to do it!”

Y/n, gasping, wincing in slight pain in her forearms, stepped back, holding the belt now taut between her wrists.

Alex was through the door in seconds, grabbing Y/n’s shoulders, checking her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Y/n rasped.

Alex’s jaw clenched. She had expected a strong interrogation—but this? This theatrical provocation risked the entire case, risked her life. Did Y/n consider that? Did she care?

Instead, Alex watched, feeling the urge to grab Cain’s neck across the table and strangle him herself, as Fin and Elliot dragged Cain out of the room.

The camera still rolled. Cain’s rant had been filmed. The confession—raw, unfiltered—was everything they needed.

Alex, directing her gaze at Y/n, felt a sudden frisson—an electrifying spark seeing Y/n put it all on the line.

________________________________________________________

Read Chapter 2 here: Duty & Desires Chapter 2

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Acciaccato

Chapter Thirty Six

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Other characters: Castiel, Missouri (mentioned), Cain, nameless thugs, Benny, Sam and Kevin

Word Count: ~3100

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, still unbeta'd, Dean has a few hard thinks about his past whether he wants to or not. The show must go on.

Super, extra, mega, uber, and deepest thanks to @lastactiontricia on this chapter. I know you could have done so much more with it, but I'm taking the knee. xoxo

Series Masterlist

The rooms the band nabbed in Vegas were straight out of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. It was almost a sin not to share, but at this point Dean would have been stuck with Kevin and even if the kid hadn’t come back in the wee hours with a handful of his own groupies, he doubted Kevin and he would have the same ideas on how to treat a hotel room in the middle of a stay.

Or how to respect a roommate’s privacy.

Instead, he luxuriated in his spacious suite. He told himself he wasn’t hiding or moping. He was just carefully taking some Dean-time before their second show. Besides, he had his therapy appointment in an hour anyway and his laptop was already set up on the desk in his room. 

The softness level of the complimentary robe didn’t hurt either.

Dean turned on a ‘70s music station on the all access cable and checked out the city below. There was a time when he was in Vegas more than he was in LA, every minute he wasn’t needed in the studio he was either on the road or in one of Cain’s gyms or clubs. 

As he took in the city skyline, it was difficult to stomach that he had ever been that guy. Like rewatching a movie where he once idolized the hero, only to see later, the guy was nothing short of a mass murderer hiding behind a badge. Of course, Dean was ashamed of what he did with all his time here. But more than that, he was terrified that that truth would get out.

That you would realize who he really had been then. Not just some self-absorbed rockstar who fucked anything that turned his head.  Who threw away friendships because it was easier than actually working to maintain them. But the mindless rage monster, the guy who was numbed to the point of hurting himself and others to feel alive instead of trapped between planes of existence.

Cain had called it ‘pure’, that base instinct to hurt and dominate, a warrior’s need for victory. But Dean knew now it was an escape, to separate himself from his actions, and to justify the pain he caused and experienced. Dean had no idea if Cain was the man’s given name or not, but it was apropos, the way the man spoke, it was no wonder he was named after the first known murderer.

The room service coffee surpassed the chintzy little one cup brewer they provided in the kitchenette and Dean drank it down greedily. He sat on the leather couch and debated on how he was going to kill the next hour, besides getting dressed. One of the hardest parts of therapy, for Dean, was the build up. Which was why he usually tried to have plans beforehand, so he didn’t overthink too much before they even got started.

But after last night, and being in Vegas at all, he felt safer being alone. Or less exposed, at least.

Dean sighed, set his mug down, and picked up his phone. His wallpaper was the same as always, him and Baby, both bright and smiling for the camera. What the phone screen didn’t say was that Cas had taken the picture. Or that Dean had spent three months in between tours finally fixing her up with his own two hands. There were a lot of things Dean regretted in his life, but the stuff with Cas was at the top of his list.

Before he could stop himself, he pulled up Cas’ number and hit the phone icon. It was the middle of a work day, something he usually never thought about, and Dean was suddenly ashamed to admit he had no idea what Cas was doing for money at the moment.

“Hello?” that gruff familiar voice answered, clearly doubting it was actually Dean calling.

“Hey, Cas. How’s it going?”

“Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“Is everything alright?”

Dean leaned back and tried to sit with the uncomfortableness. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just— felt like checking in.”

The seconds ticked by, but Cas didn’t seem too keen to start up a conversation. The sound of someone working out a riff in the background drew Dean’s focus as his self-doubt almost had him hanging up the phone. Then Cas started moving, the background noise shifted and then disappeared.

“Sorry, we’re recording, but it’s slow going.”

Dean never felt so disconnected from his friend’s life. He didn’t even know they were like a real band or even what they sounded like. Let alone recording. “Wow! Cas, that’s—- that’s great. So what’re you callin’ yourselves?”

“Holy Terror.”

Dean chuckled. “Damn. That’s actually pretty dope, man.”

“I was out voted. I wanted ‘All in the Family’, but apparently that has incestuous implications.”

“Yeah, man, I’m with your bandmates on that one. So— who’s all playing with you? Besides, you know, the kid?”

“Jack. They have a name.”

“I know, dude, it’s just weird because it’s not like I’ve even met ‘em.”

“It is weird for me, too. My life has changed so much in the past year, and I imagine so has yours.”

Dean huffed. “Understatement of the century right there.”

This conversation was inevitable the moment Dean pressed the call button, but still he felt like he owed it to Cas to salvage it.

“And who else you got? Don’t tell me they’ve got you singing too.”

“No, I haven’t fallen so far as to attempt that kind of puppetry.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. How did he forget what a sarcastic asshole Cas could be?

“There’s also Balthazar.”

“Nooooo.”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Okay, well, maybe you won’t be the one with the highest totals anymore, that guy’s more of a porn star than a musician most days.”

Castiel exhaled deeply through his nose. 

“What?”

“Our fourth member—- has actually done porn.”

“Cas? Don’t tell me you—”

“He volunteered.”

Dean looked up at the vaulted ceiling of his hotel room and then back at the television and its band facts scrolling at the bottom of the screen. “Wow! Well, I guess you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Gabriel actually paid for the studio time. Which has been helpful. Though Frank keeps a security guard on him at all times.”

“Frank let you guys in? Huh.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“No— I’m not. I mean it’s Gabriel is all. Not that you’re not qualified or however that sounded.”

“That’s— very fair of you.”

Dean kicked his heels up onto the coffee table. “Well, that’s the new me. I’ve matured and shit.”

“And shit.”

“You get it.”

“I should get going. Where are you? Should I call you back later?”

“Tonight’s Vegas round two, so no. Got Phoenix this weekend though, so maybe Sunday afternoon if you’ve got time. If not, no biggie.”

“How long will you be on the road?”

“Five months.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Eh— got some double duty at the tail end, since, you know.”

“Yeah. Well, I wish you all luck.”

“Back at ya, buddy. Let me know if you want me or Trouble to pump up this new gig up online, alright?”

“I’ll consider it. Thank you.--- Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for calling. It was good to hear your voice.”

Dean swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, you too.”

“Goodbye.”

“Yep.”

Dean hung up and dropped his phone and his hands into his lap. Deflated and a bit untethered, he guessed it was as good a time as any to get dressed.

The inner workings of the casino held an intricate hive of activity. From the hotel portion, to the venues for shows, out onto the actual casino floor, to the shops, restaurants, spas and other specialty amenities that kept people there and spending, workers bustled and hustled at every opportunity. 

So it wasn’t surprising that not one, not two, but three different employees stopped him backstage as he walked around hours before showtime. His therapy with Missouri had left him drained, but in the way muscles were sore after a workout. His feelings were stretched thin, but the conviction he held them with was strengthening. He was emotionally tougher than ever, but it still exhausted him. 

He gave himself some time in the wings, soaking in the memories of the concert the night before and the energy the fans had poured back out to them. He wanted to finish strong then and there, because then he could put the whole damn city behind him for the rest of the tour.

If only the universe worked in his favor.

Once he got downstairs, his past came back to knock him on his ass. Outside Phantom Traveler’s dressing room stood three men, two of them Dean didn’t bother trying to recognize, they were just goons. The third was someone he couldn’t forget even in his best dreams.  

“Hello, Dean,” Cain’s natural civility oozed old money.

“What are you doing down here?” Dean asked without any pretense. So much for the abundance of security. But knowing Cain, he probably paid them off.

“I was hoping for a chance to catch up. It’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough,” Dean snipped, clocking the lanyards around Cain’s and his bodyguards’ necks. “So you’re here for the show?”

“Of course. You know I was always impressed with your endeavors.”

Dean couldn’t tell if the heat clawing up the back of his neck was from embarrassment, pride, or anger, with Cain things were always complicated. And the fucker knew it.

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Dean felt petulant, but he really didn’t need any favors from the guy.

Cain took a moment, holding Dean in that calculated gaze, then took a step forward. Dean did not back up.

“You know I’m actually surprised you’re deigning to talk to me yourself. Alastair said you sent some Cajun mongrel after him last night.”

“Well, Alastair decided to come at us like a scumbag pap, so-.” Dean shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal if he didn’t make it a big deal. He was barely making polite conversation anyway.

“He does tend to be too dramatic for his own good.” Cain slipped his hands into his pants pockets, casually, but also disarming himself in the process. 

He was untouchable as ever.

“What do you want, man? Not that I’m not enjoying shooting the shit, oh wait, I’m not.”

“Don’t be rude. I wanted to remind you the door’s still open when you’re ready to get back to yourself. The ring’s not the same without you in it. And I hate to have you keeping all that raw talent untapped.”

The words tickled Dean the wrong way as they ticked off of Cain’s tongue.

Dean shuddered and swallowed against the rising bile.

“I’m out. Find yourself another prize hog. I’ve moved on.” He felt the dead look in his own eyes as Cain tisked at his refusal.

“Is that what you tell Ms. Y/L/N? Swear you’ve gone straight, to keep her from looking at you with fear in her eyes? I must say she seems just as smitten with you as that covergirl is supposed to be.”

Dean clenched his jaw and his fist.

Cain let his words sink in and then he took Dean out by the knees. “She doesn’t know, does she, Dean?”

“So what?”

“A man is not what he thinks he is, but he is what he hides,” Cain recited with a raised brow. “What did I tell you about those that don’t understand your dark side? You’ll only disappoint them in the end.”

Dean felt like a kid getting reprimanded for talking back, though Cain was more the dotting teacher type. “Some things should stay buried.”

Cain straightened up and nodded in agreement. “I could always fill her in myself— if it’s too much for you to explain. We could even bring her out after the show, together. Give her a tour of our operations and let her see for herself what you’re capable of? Then maybe you’ll see that she’s not worth the worry.”

“Not a chance. In fact, don’t even fucking look at her.”

“Dean! I’m offering to put some polish on the time we spent together. I’m willing to let Y/N in on your true nature. If that makes it more palatable. You know, it’s not just Alastair that misses seeing you in the ring. I’m sure the boys wouldn’t mind having a fresh— distraction around. We’ve all seen her, you know.”

Dean felt the rage wash over him, the snarling, festering truth; his Hyde side was never truly gone.

“Leave her out of this.” Dean warned, low and bitter. He felt his skin vibrating, his weight shifted naturally onto his toes as his body readied to strike, to lash out and protect. 

Cain looked at him with something close to pity, even as he threatened Dean to the edge of sanity. “I don’t think you understand the lengths I’ll go to bring you home. With or without her, you can’t change who you are inside or where you belong.”

“Everything alright, boss?” Benny’s voice broke through Dean’s thundering thoughts.

“Ah, here’s your man,” Cain’s eyes brightened and he spun on his heels to greet Benny outright. “Yes, hello, Cain Charles. Mr. LaFitte.”

Benny didn’t blink at the uneven introduction, just shook Cain’s hand and held his equally icy glare. “Pleasure.”

“Right. Dean and I were just catching up. But we can leave you gents to set up for the show tonight.” He looked over his shoulder at Dean and then at his two thugs. “Boys? Let’s go find out if they’ve got the box seats open yet.”

Benny, with his flawless instincts, stepped up to the plate. “Why don’t I go with ya? See if I can ease your way?”

Benny nudged Dean with his elbow as he gestured Cain and company down the hall towards the elevators. “You good, hoss?”

“No,” Dean practically grunted.

“Well, go on. I’ve got them.”

Dean shook his head, but kept the rest of his response to himself. He kept his eyes on the back of Cain’s perfect salt and pepper waves until Benny followed half of a beat after. Finally, they disappeared behind sliding metal doors.

Dean gasped out the breath he had been holding and turned and punched the cinderblock wall that led to the dressing rooms. His knuckles burst open and he bent in half with the hot, familiar pain. It wasn’t enough to take away the gut twisting worry that Cain had planted inside him.

But it was enough to bring him back to himself, to that moment and to his hitching breath. He inhaled and shook out his hand. Then he exhaled.

Dean told himself that setbacks happen, that he still was in control of his actions. It just was going to be a long night.

The lights poured down on Dean from every angle, surrounding him with inescapable heat and scrutiny. The show was half way over, he just needed to calm down and be in the moment. But somewhere in the dark, he knew Cain was watching him. No, watching them. 

He flashed a forced grin, cocky and reckless. Fake it ‘til you make it. But the fans loved it, so he kept up the ruse.

“Kevin?” he asked playfully.

“Yeah, Dean?”

“How about we skip the next one and give ‘em some Prophet and Loss instead?”

The crowd screamed in agreement, but Kevin took his time, playing up his indecision.

“You guys wanna hear the new stuff don’t you?!” Dean bellowed, egging them on. Internally begging them to let him out of singing about Lisa right now, or about who he used to be. He couldn’t wait until the album was released and they could focus on the new music, and just touch on the hits.

The fans bayed with excitement.

Kevin played along, ignoring the rest of the setlist and absolutely flexed on the solo.

Letting Kevin have the spotlight, Dean backed up next to Sam, nodding at him as he kept the bassline going. Sam had taken the news of Cain’s reappearance seriously, putting Jesse on Madison detail until she would be taking the flight back to LA the next morning. Bobby and Victor were given blatant warnings that every band member was to be escorted to and from the show and their rooms, yourself and Charlie included. Benny personally promised he’d ensure it got done. But that was only a bandaid on a wound that had been left festering for too long.

Cain knew all of Dean’s tells, and most of his secrets.

Sam, now, held Dean's gaze, silently checking in. But Dean could barely look him in the eye, he was that rough.

Which, of course, Sam noticed.

Guilt was par for the course with Dean, if something sucky was happening, he always felt somewhat at fault. But this was entirely and undeniably his fault and that weight was enough to pull him under and if he wasn’t careful, he’d just let himself sink. To give in to the temptation and be the guy Cain wanted him to be: the fighter that Alastair had curated out of the bar fights and back alley brawls of Dean’s formative years.

To succumb to the anger, and the fear that he’d never be more than that animal, was just too easy.

So, when Sam gave him that incredulous look on stage, Dean had to use every ounce of self control not to just punch his lights out. Fuck him, of all people, for judging Dean. 

He was fucking trying, okay?!

Then Sam’s face shifted and his massive forehead hitched and the puppy dog eyes came out and Dean didn’t want to be seen anymore. He shook his head, shrugged and continued winding his way around the stage, touching base with each member until he was at Kevin’s side. Dean fell into rhythm with Kevin’s extended solo, swaying and bobbing with the beat as it mellowed into a much more upbeat swinging vibe than anything the song it had emerged from ever held.

In that moment, Dean remembered how insanely grateful he was that Kevin had joined the band. His unique twist to the music, mischief, and raw talent were something like paddles to the chest, a resuscitation. A new chance at life for the band.

That bright reminder of hope, of progress, got Dean through the rest of the show. They brought out Annie next and ‘Baby’ was as smooth as the chrome on her namesake.

There were things coming for him that he hadn’t outrun. But on that stage, he was the one who was untouchable. And if it was going to all slip through his fingers by the consequences of his own actions, at least he’d leave it on a high note. 

He gave the people what they came for, and they all left the stage sweaty and smiling.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

@spxideyver

Chapter 37: Portato

[copperboom82]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Katrina)

Word Count: 5,912

Rating: M

Title Credit: When We Are Together by the 1975

Summary: As Dean struggles to bear the Mark of Cain, Katrina seems to have a grounding effect... but Dean worries at what cost

Part of the Long Winding Roads collection (masterlist here), but can be read on its own.

A/N: This was written for @rubyvhs's 500 follower celebration, for which I was given the song When We Are Together by the 1975. This is also my fifth submission for @jacklesversebingo, using the prompt "It terrifies me what you would do for me," and a submission for @alphabetquest using the hurt/comfort prompt!

Thank you @justwhisperingfantasies for being my beta and for all your support on this! ❤️

Warnings: Mentions of canon level violence/gore. Established relationship. Cursing. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Mild/implied sexual content? Some fluff. Themes of self-loathing. Mark of Cain Dean... if I missed any, please let me know

Tag List: @mrsjenniferwinchester

**********

At thirty-seven years old, Dean Winchester had seen enough shit to know that love was a dangerous thing.

He’d seen the depths of grief it drove his dad and his brother to. He knew the crazy things it had pushed him to do. He’d lived through having his own loved ones used against him as leverage more than once. And worse than all of that, he’d seen firsthand the damage that loving him wrought on people’s lives.

It was why he’d stayed away from Katrina as long as he had.

Because how he’d felt about Katrina had never been the issue. And it had taken him longer to realize it wasn’t one sided, but once he had, it wasn’t like how she felt about him had been the issue either. It was all the damn complications of what happens if we give this a shot and how dangerous relationships were when paired with the kind of lives both of them led.

In the end, however, the pull he felt towards her had been too strong, and once they’d taken that leap, in a fit of absolute insanity, he’d thrown himself into it with everything he had.

The crazier part was that it didn’t immediately blow up in his face. Dean had been convinced it would. He was pretty sure Katrina had been too. But somehow, they’d managed to buck the odds and it had been pretty smooth sailing - at least by their standards, anyway.

It wasn’t until they’d been together a little over a year that some of Dean’s old worries started to creep back.

He was no stranger to a fight. White hot rage and the instinct to kill or be killed had been his companions for so long he couldn’t imagine his life without them. But as Magnus’ head rolled across the floor, and Dean stood there, his arm practically vibrating with the power that seemed to flow through him from contact with the blade, the feeling flooding his system was decidedly different.

The anger was there. The need to kill something was there. But they were at a level of intensity Dean had never felt before, and mixed with a sense of calm that was almost jarring for how… at odds it was with the other two. It was almost like an out of body experience. Sam, Katrina, and Crowley all faded away. The room they were all in faded away. The whole crazy ass building with its zoo and collection of oddities did too. He stopped hearing the crackling of the fire… the distant hum of machinery.

All that was left was his heart pounding in his ears and a screaming need for more bloodshed. Dimly he heard what he thought might have been Sam’s voice, but it was faraway and muffled… almost like if he were underwater.

Then there was a warm touch to his arm, and gentle fingers coming up to cradle his face. It took a second, but it was like a spell being broken, and suddenly everything started rushing back.

“Baby, look at me. Please. I’m right here.”

Dean’s eyes automatically swiveled down to meet Katrina’s, something easing and tightening in his chest all at once. She looked concerned, worried in a way he didn’t often see. Not scared though. God forbid she be afraid. His girl was fucking fearless - something he both loved and found terrifying.

The hand she had on his arm clenched just a bit tighter, and his eyes caught the flesh of her bottom lip trapped beneath her teeth. And as the world continued to come back to him, he could feel the anxiety rolling off her in waves.

“C’mon, Dean,” she continued to coax. “I’m right here. Sam’s right here. It’s over. You can drop the blade.”

His fingers fought to unfurl, his instincts to listen to her at war with whatever force had taken hold of his mind. When they finally did, the hunk of bone clattered to the floor and the last of the haze cleared. Dean took in a gasp of air, his eyes darting around all on their own before landing back on Katrina. He was sure he looked like a cornered, wild animal, but she didn’t so much as flinch.

“Kat,” he breathed. At the sound of his voice, some of the worry seemed to clear from her eyes and she gave him a gentle smile, her thumb smoothing over his jawline.

“Hey,” she soothed. And then she was pushing up on her toes at the same time she was guiding him down to her. Their lips brushed, only briefly but enough to ground him further.

“It’s okay,” she murmured against him, quiet enough only he could hear. “I’m right here. I love you, you’re okay.”

He kissed her again, this time his arms winding around her waist and pulling her against him. The mark burned on his arm but he pushed the feeling away, focusing on the warmth of her body and the sense of peace having her so close always brought him.

It wasn’t until later, after Crowley had slipped out of their grasp and they were back in the car with Sam that the full reality of what had happened hit him. His eyes found hers in the rearview mirror and something about the trust reflected back in them made his heart stutter.

Even if it had been short lived, he hadn’t been in his right mind from the moment that son of a bitch had put the blade in his hand. And Katrina hadn’t so much as hesitated to put herself in the line of fire. What the fuck had she been thinking? She may have helped pull him back, but it had been a hell of a gamble approaching him the way she did. He could have hurt her, could have stayed in whatever trance that thing had snapped him into. Hell, for all he knew, he could have killed her.

That was the first time he found himself grappling with the fact that he was both a risk to the woman he loved and that being around her was possibly the only thing that would make him better.

The second time didn’t come long after.

That time, he at least tried to keep her out of harm’s way. If he were being honest with himself, his motivations for giving her and Sam the slip were a little more complex than that, and something he didn’t really want to pick at - but keeping them both away from him and safe was part of it.

But they’d found him anyway. And Sam and Crowley had watched while Katrina moved across the room without a thought, sinking down behind him and grabbing the arm that had been brutally stabbing and slashing into the corpse that had contained Abaddon moments before.

It was the same as the first time - as if there was something almost magical about the skin-to-skin contact. As soon as her hand met his arm, the fog broke and he came crashing back to himself. Letting go of the blade was easier that time, and even though he was splattered with blood, his hand and arm practically dripping with it, Katrina automatically folded him into an embrace, nuzzling into his neck and placing a gentle kiss near his collarbone.

The look on Sam’s face, and more unnervingly Crowley’s, told Dean he wasn’t the only one that considered it significant. Even if he wasn’t ready to confront Katrina about it.

He told himself it was because they had bigger things to worry about - that handling the fallen angels and dealing with the Metatron situation took precedence. Then there’d been the whole turning into a demon thing, which had been its own issue to sort through. Dean had been sure she’d leave him - sure enough that he thought about saving her the trouble before Sam and Cas had knocked some sense into him. That hadn’t meant, though, that it had been easy, and they’d had a lot to work through in the aftermath.

It was finally the massacre in Pontiac, IL that pushed him over the edge. There’d been little moments here and there, where Kat had pushed past the bounds of what Dean felt comfortable with, but they’d been small, and even he couldn’t deny the difference he felt when she was around. With her by his side, he could still feel the pull of the damn mark, but she called the man he’d been back to the surface too… made carrying the burden more manageable… made fighting off the effects of the curse possible… even if it was only temporary.

It shouldn’t have been surprising, really. Katrina had always been somewhat of a beacon for him… reason enough all on her own for him to want to do better, be better. He’d known early on that she was out of his league, that he shouldn’t have had a chance with her. She deserved better and he knew it. But she’d wanted him anyway, and so he had decided that the least he could do was put everything he had into trying to be the best he could.

Katrina was worth it. That had never been a question to Dean.

But after Pontiac, he couldn’t ignore what was happening anymore.

She’d rushed back in first, had found him while he was still slashing into one of the men. He’d been so absorbed, he hadn’t even registered her arrival. But then just like all the other times, she’d run for him, reached for him as though he weren’t a bloodthirsty monster, as dangerous as the shit they hunted. He’d frozen, and, that time, she’d pulled the blade from his grip.

That time, he was still coming back to himself when both her hands came up to grasp his face, her eyes searching. And once again it was concern, not fear, in them. Dean was still blinking in surprise, noticing that some of the blood he’d spilled had already transferred to her - flecks of it spattered across her clothes and her face… more of it smeared on her arms - when she surged forward and kissed him.

It was more desperate than normal, as if she needed reassurance that he was still there. Dean managed to kiss her back, his arms going around her slowly, but he’d been in a daze. It was the most intensely he’d gone under since his eyes had turned black all those months ago. And that fucking terrified him.

By then, Cain’s story had been rattling around in his head for some time. How he’d managed to pull back under control because of Colette. After months of bearing the mark himself, Dean thought he understood.

It was what Katrina did for him. The only time he was maybe better was when they were together.

But Colette had ended up dead. And Dean wasn’t about to let Katrina pay for his darkness with her life. It was too great a price.

He was quiet on the way back to the bunker, and quiet in the day or two that followed. Claire had been inconsolable, and even though it wasn’t like he was close with the kid, it had only managed to add to the guilt churning in his gut.

Katrina had taken charge, working with Sam and Cas to clean up the scene and get Claire at least situated. Sam had driven them back to the bunker, while Cas took Claire in his own car, and when they arrived back, Dean had immediately retreated to his and Kat’s room.

There was evidence of their shared life everywhere. Her favorite green blanket draped haphazardly over the foot of their bed. His vinyl interspersed with her books on one of the shelves. Photos of them both and of their families scattered throughout the room. Her perfume sitting atop the dresser next to a watch of his that needed the batteries replaced.

Dean let himself drown in their bed, sinking into the memory foam mattress he’d been so fucking excited to buy them. Katrina let him, often staying by his side but knowing him well enough to respect his silence. She brought him food, curled up into his side and let him hold her when he started getting antsy, raked her fingers through his hair and over his scalp when he had trouble sleeping… and as always, she seemed to have an innate ability to sense when he needed space, slipping away to somewhere else in the bunker with nothing more than a gentle kiss to his cheek and a squeeze to his hand.

When she came in the one day to find the mirror cracked and him sitting on the bed holding his bloodied hand, there was no judgment, no scolding. She just went about cleaning up the glass as if on autopilot before coming over and wordlessly pulling his hand into hers so she could take care of the cuts.

“You don’t have to -” he began, but Katrina cut him off, pausing just long enough to look up and lean in for a kiss.

“Yeah, I know,” she muttered as she pulled away and turned her attention back to his hand, “I don’t have to do shit. Just like you don’t have to help me unfuck my back when I come home hurting, or make me soup when I’m sick, or -”

“Don’t,” he cut her off. “This ain’t the same.”

Katrina, of course, rolled her eyes.

“The hell it isn’t. And if you think I’m gonna sit around and let you face this by yourself, you’ve got another thing coming, Winchester. So don’t start with me.”

He wanted to argue with her, but he didn’t have the energy, and more than that, he didn’t want to risk straying too close to that anger again. So he pursed his lips and let her work, grudgingly relishing the feel of her touch.

It was when he finally, eventually ventured out from their room that Dean realized just how… pressing… the conversation was that they needed to have.

He could tell as he approached that Sam and Cas were talking about what he’d done in Pontiac. It didn’t bother him - not any more than he was already bothered by what had happened, anyway. Sam’s hesitation to call him out was unnecessary. Dean was ready to call himself out. He was on a dark path, and he knew it.

But before he could make his presence known, Katrina’s voice entered the fray - fierce and defensive, in a way that somehow managed to make him feel even worse.

“Oh no! Don’t you dare try and act like Dean killing those men is some sort of - of… sign or something! They may have been human, but I’ve met monsters with more morality than that scum! Dean’s fine.”

“Trina, he slaughtered them. I mean, c’mon… he’s my brother, I love him too… but - but -“

“It was a massacre,” Dean finished for Sam, finally stepping into the room. Three sets of eyes swiveled to him, but he only had trouble looking back at one of them. “That’s what it was, you can say it.”

The conversation that followed was less than pleasant, and Katrina got so pissed off with all of them that she stormed out, ducking away when he tried to reach out as she passed by. Eventually it was just him and Sam left, and Dean arched an eyebrow in his brother’s direction when he realized he was being fucking studied.

“What?” he asked. Sam looked surprised at being challenged, but schooled his features quickly, shaking his head.

“Nothing, man. You just… you got that look on your face again.”

Dean tried not to glare, but still felt his jaw clench. “What look?”

Sam’s eyes darted towards the doorway Katrina had left through a few minutes before, betraying where his thoughts were if Dean hadn’t already been able to guess.

“The bad look,” Sam answered bluntly. “The one that says you’re gonna do something really stupid. You’re not back to thinking about leaving her, are you?”

The truth was, he wasn’t. Not really, anyway. He couldn’t bring himself to. The only time he had any hopes of getting better was when they were together. But the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to cut bait?

That was fucking killing him.

“Tell me how staying is not the most selfish thing I could possibly do? I mean, really, Sam. I am a danger to her. I know it, you know it. Hell, Kat probably knows it somewhere, even if she doesn’t wanna fucking admit it. So how can I justify staying?”

Sam didn’t argue, which in and of itself spoke volumes, and gave him a sympathetic look for good measure.

“She loves you, Dean, and it’s not just your decision to make. Trina’s not an idiot, and whether you like it or not, she’s in just as deep as we are at this point. She can figure out for herself what risks she wants to take. Same as you. Same as me. And god help you if you think she’ll let you get away with trying to make that choice for her. Mark or not, she’ll kick your ass.”

Dean exhaled heavily and ran a hand down his face, his eyes looking anywhere but at Sam. He knew his brother was right, but that didn’t make it any easier… didn’t do anything to ease the fear that had been slowly consuming him.

“I don’t wanna hurt her, Sammy,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. Sam heard though, and even from the corner of his eye, Dean saw the understanding in there… caught the slight nod of Sam’s head.

“Yeah, I get that. Y���know, she’s not exactly some delicate flower.”

Dean huffed out a humorless, almost bitter laugh.

“Yeah, well she’s not exactly indestructible either.”

The rest of the sentence, the even though she thinks she is, went without saying, but they both knew it was true. Silence stretched between them, and then Sam was sighing, finally catching Dean’s eye again.

“You gotta talk to her, man.”

And Dean knew his brother was right about that too.

Of course, Katrina was so pissed off she didn’t talk to any of them for the rest of the day. Dean wasn’t surprised. He figured she’d been bottling things up the same way he had - about how he was doing, how they were doing, what was happening in their lives… and Kat bottling things up almost always ended in fits of anger disproportionate to whatever thing she actually let herself get worked up over.

Normally he’d have tried to have it out with her - picking a fight with Katrina was usually the fastest way to get her to accidentally spill whatever was really bothering her, and making up sure as hell had its perks. But this time Dean let her have her space. He couldn’t afford to go there right now, didn’t trust himself to go toe to toe with her the way they had so many times before. Not when anger was such an accelerant on the flames feeding that monster inside him… not when Katrina was the only thing that seemed to pull him back.

It wasn’t until the next day that the ice started to thaw. He slept in one of the extra rooms he’d been slowly pulling together as his own sort of den before everything had gone to shit… he thought he might call it the Dean-cave or something like that when it was done. If it was ever done. There wasn’t much in it yet - he really wanted a TV - but there was at least a couch and a recliner he’d managed to salvage from a nearby moving sale or some shit like that.

He thought he’d timed it perfectly to slip in and grab a change of clothes while she was in the shower. It wasn’t that he was trying to avoid her… he’d just figured it would be best to let her come find him when she was ready.

Best laid plans and all, though - he was still sifting through the dresser looking for what he wanted when he heard the shower turn off.

She stepped out into their room just as he straightened up, already dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt he was almost sure she’d stolen from him. Her fingers were working her wet hair into a braid and she froze when she spotted him, blinking in surprise.

“Sorry, I uh, didn’t mean to…” he trailed off, not sure exactly what he was going to say, but Katrina gave him half a smile and made a gesture with her hand.

“It’s your room too,” she pointed out. Her voice, he noted, was lacking the bite from before, and the silence that fell over them was decidedly more awkward than tense the way it had been the day before. “I didn’t mean to chase you out.”

Dean quickly shook his head. “You didn’t. I, uh, I just thought -”

This time, Katrina’s lips twitched into a familiar smirk. “It’s okay, you can admit I was being a raging bitch.”

And just like that, both the awkwardness and the last lingering bit of tension broke, and Dean let out a short laugh. Taking a step forward, he reached out an arm and pulled her close, dropping a kiss to her forehead as her free hand came up around his middle.

“Aw sweetheart, even I’m not that stupid,” he teased, and he felt as much as he heard the chuckle it earned him. Her head fell against his chest and he smoothed a hand over her back.

“You’re definitely that stupid,” she argued, “you just let me get away with murder.”

It was just a saying, one she probably hadn’t even thought about, but the second the words were out of her mouth they both quieted, a heaviness settling over the room. Dean ran his hand up and down her back, pressing one more kiss to the top of her head before finally releasing her.

“You’d know something about that, wouldn’t you?”

Katrina stepped back, narrowing her eyes warily in his direction while she finally tied off the braid she’d been working on before.

“I still meant what I said yesterday,” she told him quietly, though her voice was still firm. “I think you’re all overblowing the situation.”

“And I think you’re cracked.” They stared at each other for a beat and then Dean sighed, throwing a hand into the air before dropping it. “Katrina,” he began again, “c’mon, baby. You know what I did was not okay.”

“Those men tried to hurt Claire. They tried to -”

“Hey, I’m not saying they didn’t have something coming,” Dean quickly cut over her, and he was relieved when she deflated. “You’ve got no argument from me there. But not that. Not what I did. That was murder, Kat. Plain and simple.”

Katrina folded her arms over her chest, but Dean didn’t back down, not even when her nostrils flared.

“Disagree,” she managed, but Dean scoffed.

“Tough. C’mon, we need to talk. We both know it.”

At first he thought she was going to fight him on it - he saw that fire creeping back into her eyes. But then she sagged, rubbing her lips together as she looked to the floor, her arms loosening just a bit. And with a muttered fine, she moved towards the bed.

They each settled in, Dean on the edge towards the middle, angling himself to face her, while Katrina situated herself towards the top, leaning back against the headboard and pulling her knees to her chest. Somehow, despite everything that had happened the last nearly year at that point, despite everything she’d born witness to, this was the first time he caught her eyeing him with something akin to fear. It was almost comical.

And even though he knew they needed to talk, that they’d needed to talk for a while, Dean had no idea how to start. Of course, the longer the silence stretched, the more Katrina’s anxiety seemed to ramp up, and ultimately it was her who broke first.

“You gonna try and kick me to the curb?” she asked, unable to look him in the eye, the puff of air she let out stirring a wisp of hair she hadn’t caught in the braid. Dean felt his heart clench at the pain in her voice, but she kept on, picking at the seam of her jeans on the side of her knee. “I know it was a little rough after… when you got home… but I thought we were doing better.”

Dean tried to catch her eye but she was resolute, and finally he sighed.

“No, Kat. Not unless you wanna go. I love you, and I’m in this. I promise.”

That got her attention, and her head swiveled back towards him, her expression betraying her surprise.

“Really?” she asked, not even trying to hide her skepticism. “You’ve been so… guarded, lately. I figured for sure you were -”

“Don’t get me wrong, I feel like the most selfish bastard in the world for staying, and I think you’d be smarter to leave my ass, but I don’t want to split up. What this thing, this goddamn mark on my arm is doing to me… fuck, I’m doing my best to keep it in check but it’s changing me, I can feel it… And… I cannot go dark side again, Katrina, I just can’t. Being with you, though…”

The words started to fail him and Katrina softened. Her arms unlocked from where they’d been wrapped around her legs, and she reached out a hand to loosely catch his fingers with hers.

“Being with me what, Dean?” she coaxed, and Dean let out a long breath, trying to force himself to keep going.

It wasn’t a secret how they felt about each other - he wasn’t shy about reminding her that he loved her, made sure to tell her often… but it was less common that they got into the heavy stuff. He knew he could, it just wasn’t an instinct for either of them. Both their default was to push everything down and down, hoping it would just go away. This wasn’t one of those times though. Pushing things down hadn’t gotten them anywhere with this.

“The only time I feel like I got a chance of getting better is when we’re together,” he admitted, “and that scares the shit out of me.”

Katrina frowned and dropped his hand. Before he could question it, though, she was running her fingers along the line of his jaw, guiding him to look at her. The fear from before was already gone, replaced with that quiet confidence he was used to seeing in her gaze, even if it was mixed with a certain amount of concern. He tried to ignore the stinging in his own eyes, refusing to acknowledge how difficult this was.

“Why?” Dean closed his eyes, but he could still feel her watching him. “Why’s that gotta be a bad thing? That’s what this is supposed to be, partners. I have your back and you have mine. You make me stronger, why can’t you let me do the same for you?”

“Because Kat,” he groaned, his eyes snapping open again, a thread of frustration working its way into the emotional turmoil and giving him the push he needed. “This isn’t some family drama, or a regular case we’re talking about here. It’s big, and it’s bad. And it terrifies me what you would do for me.”

“Dean -“

But now that he’d started, Dean found he couldn’t stop.

“I’m being serious, here! I mean, you don’t even hesitate to put yourself in the line of fire.”

“Oh please,” Katrina scoffed. “Like you’ve got any fucking room to talk. Besides, my complete lack of regard for my own safety started way before I met you. You think that makes you special?”

Dean glared. “This isn’t funny, Katrina! Do you have any idea what it would do to me if something happened to you? If I hurt you?”

“I’m not joking!” she cried back, before gentling again. “Dean, baby, I’m not worried about you hurting me.”

“You’re kinda proving my point here, sweetheart,” he said, arching an eyebrow. Katrina huffed but leaned in, pressing her lips against his in a tender kiss. She was impossible to resist, always had been, and he found himself responding, the tension lifting from his body at least a bit. Her tongue dipped past the seam of his lips, tasting, soothing, and he lost himself in the familiar dance. And when she pulled back his eyes felt clearer, and he let her lean her forehead against his.

“I’m not worried about you hurting me because you, Dean Winchester, could never hurt me.”

“I tried to kill Sam.”

Katrina nodded. “Yeah, as a demon. And even as a demon, all you did was lock me up.”

Dean breathed in deeply, trying to gather his thoughts. She wasn’t wrong. Even when he’d been that dark and twisted, devoid of his humanity and left with only base instincts, there’d been something in him that just froze with Kat. He hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near her, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to totally cut her away either. His instinct to protect her hadn’t been overridden by the need to destroy reminders of his old life, of the humanity he’d lost, like it had when he’d been faced with Sam.

They’d argued. He’d been rough with her. He’d done plenty to hurt her with his words. But when push had come to shove, he hadn’t been able to do her actual, physical harm. Something about her proximity called him back, same way it did that first time he’d killed with the blade and all the other times that followed.

Her fingers began to comb through his hair and Dean exhaled, trying to keep his wits about him but finding himself falling deeper and deeper under the trance her touch put him into. She tilted her head, brushing her lips against his again, just briefly this time before settling back the way they’d been.

“You don’t fight fair, Black,” he complained, though there was no heat in his voice. Katrina laughed lightly, the sound filling the air like music.

“Never claimed to,” she quipped back. Dean groaned and went to pull her into his lap. God forbid Katrina let him just call the shots though. She let him guide her but then at the last minute pushed him onto his back, hovering over him as she kissed him deeply. Despite the fact that he dwarfed her, the warmth of her body fell over him like a blanket and his hands found purchase on her hips, holding her steady. Water was still dripping at infrequent intervals from the end of her braid, the droplets almost like cold pinpricks to his shoulder as they fell, but Dean didn’t care. He was too caught up in the way she was rolling her tongue against his, in savoring the way he could still taste her underneath the peppermint flavoring from her toothpaste, in the feel of her curves against the hard planes of his body, and in the sound of their mingled breath as they sought some sort of solace in each other.

When she pulled away that time they were both breathing heavier. Katrina looked down at him with bright eyes, her bottom lip caught under her teeth, looking almost nervous. Dean brought one of his hands up, gently pushing that wisp of hair behind her ear before cradling her face, his thumb running over her cheek as he met her stare.

Fuck he didn’t deserve her. But he’d have to be the dumbest son of a bitch to let her go too.

“I love you,” he murmured, and her lips twitched into a smile.

“I love you too.”

He smiled back and smoothed his thumb over her skin again, drinking in the sight of her. Part of him wished he could freeze the image in his head. The way she looked at him was a drug all of its own - he wasn’t sure anyone had ever looked at him with that much love before, and that spark in her eyes always threatened to ignite something within him. She was silhouetted by the overhead light, making it almost look like there was a halo around her… something otherworldly for sure. And to him, she was.

“Baby, I need you to promise me something,” he said. She considered him for a moment, tilting her head, and then looked back very seriously.

“Whatever you’re going to ask me, is it a promise you’d be willing to make? If the roles were flipped, I mean.”

Dean paused, surprised by the question as much as he was by how genuinely she’d asked it. It was different from her usual approach, and the gears in his brain began turning without his permission. He wanted her to promise she’d be more careful, that she’d think twice before putting herself in the middle of his warpath and prepare herself for the possibility that he might be beyond redemption. And that if he was, he needed to be stopped by whatever means necessary before he became that thing again.

But if the roles were reversed? If Katrina were the one struggling, bearing the effects of the mark?

He knew the answer. There was no way in hell he’d do what he wanted to ask of her. No matter what she said, he’d do everything he could, till his dying breath if that’s what it took, to try and save her, and there wasn’t anything or anyone that would be able to convince him to walk away. To not stand by her through it.

Katrina knew the answer too, and read his silence easily. It was the snort that caught his attention again, and his eyes flicked back in time to catch her smiling fondly at him, shaking her head. He raised his eyebrows anyway.

“That ain’t fair, either.”

Katrina’s smile widened, and she ran her hands up his chest, settling them on his shoulders. She turned her head, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand still settled against her cheek before turning back to look at him.

“Yeah, well, we’ll talk about it when you’re whole again,” she muttered. “Till then, you can consider this my official notice that I’m not going anywhere, whether you like it or not. Though hopefully, you like it. I know there’s no where I’d rather be, mark or not.”

And even though he’d avoided the blow out fight they’d have normally had, the perks of making up still applied.

Dean lost himself in the union that followed, his mind slowly tuning out the rest of the world and everything hanging over his head as they came together.

Love was a dangerous thing, but it was powerful too. And maybe this time he could let it lend him the strength he needed until he could find it again on his own.

After all, the only time he felt he might get better was when they were together.

[brucewaynehater101]

"It's A Wonderful Life" AU with Tim and Jason

I only know the very basic premise of this movie, so we're going off of that.

Tw: death, suicide, violence

This could be a Titan's Tower AU, but I do think this could be a bit more fun after the BruceQuest.

Tim, who's had his support systems (even the JL ripped from him) and is seething in paranoia, gets cornered by Red Hood. The last time he saw Jason alone, he got a batarang to the chest (Battle of the Cowl). Tim has no reason to suspect this interaction will be friendly.

Red Robin is geared up for a fight. Red Hood has his hands up in surrender and far away from his hip holsters. It's not exactly reassuring (Jason can probably whip out his pistols in the same amount of time it takes Tim to grab a birdarang), but it does communicate that Jason isn't looking for a fight. Tim, who's one mental breakdown away from taking over Lex Corp for the hell of it, doesn't see this as a good sign. Why would Jason, the original Cain instinct, want to talk "peacefully" with his Placeholder? What's the aim?

Jason kind of just wants to apologize and is low-key concerned with how he's so isolated from everyone. He doesn't truly care about Tim, and he doesn't think it's his place/right/ability to be the support for the kid, but he can at least say sorry. Tim doesn't need to accept it, but he deserves the acknowledgement that it was indeed fucked up and not Tim's fault in the slightest. It's not much, especially with the scar on Tim's throat and the trauma, but it's a start. He still holds some resentment for the kid, but he's starting to learn that's more Jason and Bruce's fault than Tim's.

The conversation doesn't go great. Maybe Tim is being defensive and an asshole (which is fair since Jason's attacked him twice at least). Jason gets a little upset over this and snaps back (which is not what he's trying to do and counterproductive).

They get interrupted by this magician that sighs. They explain how fucking exhausting it is hearing them continue to misunderstand each other so they will show them what the world was like if Tim was never born.

Cue something similar to the movie I described. I haven't seen it, so here's what I think happens in that movie combined with this AU.

Tim and Jason stumble around Gotham at the current date in this alternative universe.

It's hell. They constantly run into crime on every corner, and there's no order.

They find out that Bruce had died within a year of Jason dying. Gotham fell to shambles due to Batman's declining reputation at that point. They had no hope and were hostile to any heroes that tried to help (due to the last hero they had turning on them). Gotham was eventually abandoned by the US government.

With his death, people found out Bruce Wayne was Batman. This causes Alfred to be sent to jail, and Dick could never return to Gotham. Dick only survived due to the Titan's refusing to let him destroy himself. He's still not okay.

Damian never came to Gotham cause Bruce had died. He's still set to become Ra's vessel, and no one (like Dick, the JL, Jason, etc) knows about this plot.

Jim Gordon was killed, and Barbara had to move out of Gotham.

Steph joined Helena for a bit. They made a kickass team, but they didn't survive to the current day.

Duke and his family moved out of Gotham before the gates closed, but he lost his parents in the escape.

Cass was never taught language.

Jason killed the Joker and then himself.

Anyways, Gotham goes to shit and Bruce kills himself on patrol (let's himself be hit and doesn't give himself needed rest). That's the basics of what they learned in this alternative universe.

This causes Tim to feel a bit better about all the sacrifices he made. He was vital and important to the Bats. He did good. He was necessary. It doesn't erase all the pain and hurt, but it boosts his self-esteem just a small bit.

Jason didn't realize the extent of what Tim did for them. He didn't realize the impact of Tim's decision and how he saved everyone. The two of them part, and Jason starts to uncover all the sacrifices the teen made.

Tw: suicide

If you want extra angst, maybe the magician reveals that Tim was planning to kill himself before he saw that Bruce needed him (thus the world is what happened if Tim went through with his OG plan). Tim has severely unhealthy coping mechanisms now, but his tendency to help people allows himself to feel needed. Lots to unpack there.

[arofishskull]

Didn't listen to Malevolent today but I remembered that a new weird character such as Kayne being added to the cast means that I'm legally obligated to throw things at a wall and see what sticks. I haven't had many theory-based posts since the ending of season 1 since season 2 was very much about survival in the dreamlands without the subplot of finding out what the fuck John is and what his intentions. (I used to use "it" to refer to John and the king but because of how human John became and his desire to continue to grow into that direction as a person I feel like "he" is now a more accurate description than "it") Anyway, Kayne: I'm gonna swing and say that he could be related to Shub-Niggurath in some way. I might be remembering something completely wrong but I think Shub-Niggurath was described as a purveyor of chaos, destruction, and decay, as well as that its summoning to Arthur's world would end up in its destruction. Now, dear reader, you might be asking what straws I am grasping on in order for me to consider that possibility. Well! Kayne is incredibly powerful, easily able to fuck with the King. Kayne described itself as a god while the King is just a king. King's are appointed by the gods so the implication here could very much be that the King can rule over whatever it likes because the gods will let it. The King already has strong impact on people and Kayne just casually slaughtered an entire city for entertainment. Kayne could easily destroy worlds. The reason it doesn't if it was Shub-Niggurath? Well, that would be the exact same reason it's observing Arthur and John; Entertainment. Sure, slaughter and demise is a way to kill time for Kayne but that's temporary. And seemingly also only a temporary past time for Kayne. It must get boring if you get too much of it. Do I think this theory is true? Probably not. Kayne can traverse through the worlds, Shub-Niggurath apparently needed a ritual for it. Though one can argue that this source is unreliable and made up by mortals. It would be interesting if Kayne purposefully let the King wander through the portal to Arthur's world simply to see what happens, or to watch destined events unfold. Still, Shub-Niggurath was more described as a force of nature rather than a bored god. Surely the dark dimension would have infinitely different things to busy Kayne with since it's the dumping ground of an infinite amount of different worlds. I wonder if Kayne could go to the dark dimension? According to John, nothing leaves from there. Then again, John and the King are probably less than a drop in the ocean next to Kayne. I have one more wild theory though: Kayne also mentioned someone named lilith! I know she will have a speaking role because she's prominent enough to show up in the suggested hashtags when I tag my malevolent posts. So, what do the names of Kayne/Cain and Lilith have in common? Abrahamic(specifically jewish, in Lilith's case) creation myth! Kayne might literally be Cain From The Bible, murderous instincts and possible insanity after an unfathomably long life filled with guilt included. Maybe God cursed him to an eternal life? Alternatively, he could just be God From The Bible. Seemingly all powerful? Check. (seemingly) All knowing? Check. Existence of fate that he can see? Also check. The naming convention of having a Kayne/Cain and a Lilith drop in the same conversation seems too obvious to be nothing. Or maybe it is. But it feels like it shouldn't be. All creatures from myth have the possibility to be real in the worlds of Malevolent so it just seems likely that the most famous myth of modern times would be brought up eventually.