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cemetegee · 4 months ago

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John 00:00 (Or John has the Worst OCD Ever Known to men and yes I Apologize him for that)

I've just thought a lot about John, and our fandom interpretations, and... I just realized we get to see almost nothing of his emotions.

(Before you continue reading: this is probably gonna be a hell of a long post. But I really ask you to read it. I think it's absolutely impossible to understand John without the following knowledge. Please.)

The thing we see most of his emotions is his anger. Anger is, however, mostly a symptom of being hurt. (We are able to recept pain, therefore we avoid it.) From my experience, there are two types of people:

Those who direct the reaction to being hurt on themselves (being sad, self accusation)

Those who direct the reaction to being hurt on others (being angry with them)

Jod is clearly... well, both, in a way. But he clearly has a tendency to direct it towards others. I mean, what does he plan to do with his enemies?

There can be no forgiveness for them. He will haunt them until they're completely diminished. (Although it is interesting that he thinks that what he's done is unforgivable, and that he sacrifies his friends as some kind of self-punishment. Maybe we should keep that in mind.)

Side note: he also regains a certain amount of control over his enemies by that.

Jod's Primal Fear

But what have they done to him?

He says it himself: they have left him. John is terribly afraid of being left. That's why he needs to punish those who walked away. Because they've hurt him. And that's why he made half of his friends use the other half of his friends as their batteries:

God must be able to touch all of his creation. John must have a certain amount of control over his friends, so that they can't run away. Because he's terrible afraid that they could leave him. (Most likely because of the early death of his parents.)

But hands down, that's obviously not the only reason why he did that. Many people have a fear of loss without "killing" half of their friends. And at this point I'd like to introduce something many people don't really get until they themselves have it: OCD.

What is OCD?

Yeah, what is OCD? I'd say that's something Augustine can explain pretty well...

John was always so damned careful... No vulnerabilities, no lapses in all that time... It took 500 YEARS to trick him to even release genetic material in front of his friends... You know what that means?

John lives in constant fear. He permanently checks all opportunities how things could go "wrong" and tries to prevent them. And exactly that's what the core of OCD is: People with OCD live (more or less, it gets worse) in constant fear. Most people will always focus on rituals but nooooo, they are only ways to prevent (mostly objectively unrealistic, but that's in a way not so important, because the fear is real, and those who are affected will believe them in a certain way) things from happening. The main symptom of OCD is an overactive amygdala. ("The" part of your brain that processes and saves emotions, especially fear.)

John doesn't have (visible, maybe he has some in his mind - OCD thoughts - we don't know) rituals. But he doesn't have to. What I described earlier is the important part. One other important part (and defining criterium for psychic diseases) is... suffering.

And oh boy, does he suffer! THROWBACK to the part where he said he would let the RB's kill his friends to pay for his guilt? Oh boy, does he feel guilty! Oh boy, does he punish himself!

But let's talk about another fascinating aspect of OCD... John is a child of Generation Z, right? Thing is, even this generation doesn't really have an idea of OCD. The general idea is just... ah yes. rituals. washing hands. Like, it can be like that, but it doesn't have to. (There is not even enough relevant research. For example, there is no research if OCD can cause PTSD. OCD runs on the amygdala. PTSD = overwhelmed amygdala. The connection is not that hard.) You know what that means?

If John had OCD, he would probably not know it. (And his statements support that.)

And here another important thing about OCD: Untreated OCD continuinly gets worse. John is over 10.000 years old. Can you even imagine how BAD it must be AHAHAHA? No, really, I want to be serious with you for a moment: he must be so miserable, you can't even imagine. He is probably reduced to a bunch of fear and (self) hate.

(And he is - quite literally. The only thing that's keeping him alive is his hate against BoE. His biggest dream is to die and get to lie in the Tomb next to Alecto. That's why there's even a way in.)

John's Plans

One other thing that makes me think about John possibly having OCD are the *plans* he has. Many of them doesn't really to make sense to me (at least in a rational way that regards all details.) I mean, let's take a look at his plan for keeping his friends:

His plan for keeping his friends is letting the one half of them kill the other.

I am honest with you, I don't think that's a really good plan. You maybe *technically* stay in touch with your friends, but you doesn't really have use of it if, and half of them is dead. And all those things that make a friendship sweet and worth it (the voluntary love, your friends catching you if you can't do it yourself, the fact that you can talk with them about everything that concerns you) are missing. You don't have any purpose of those friends, they just *exist* and half of them is not really alive. I can personally only explain this to me with an aspect of OCD that I'd like to call: OCD tunnel vision.

If you have OCD and a certain fear gets to you (for example losing your friends) your vision will narrow on calming down this fear, and ignoring everything else around it. (People will actually leave their spouses because they fear they could cheat on them for no reason.) At the end you often will have done more damage than you would have done otherwise. (For example, half of your friends could be dead and the other half could hate you.) But! You have calmed down the fear. For a short time.

Doesn't fit John's "I'm afraid my friends could leave me, so I kill half of them, and the other half has to mourn to forever and will hate me" perfectly in that sheme? I think so.

PS: that may be not that controversial (and not neccessary for the rest of the argumentation), but... I'm not even so sure if his friends WOULD have left him if they had found out the truth. I mean, if the horrors of love are strong enough to do what JOHN did, they are surely strong enough to love a person who's done terrible things. And at the end, they don't try to kill him because of the terrible things he's done, but because he made them kill their cavaliers. John thinks what he's done is unforgivable, but actually we don't know. He somehow forgets that they love him as well. We don't really know if they ever could have forgiven him, because he never gave them the chance to do so.

John's Rituals

I said before that it's not possible to know if John has any rituals. But honestly, over making this post I realized, that he has indeed some very obvious rituals. But what is an OCD ritual?

As already said, OCD confronts you with some fear (what's btw hitting hard because OCD sometimes seems to know you better than you know yourself). To get rid of that fear you'll perform a certain action. (You'll mostly perform it very often since the fear will mostly come back. That's the ritual part about it.) That's why it's called obsessive-compulsive disorder: You have an obsession (the fear) and compulse (the action you do to get rid of that fear).

(Image source: M.Bitton – Wikimedia Commons user: M.Bitton)

But OCD actions doesn't have to be real actions in the real world. It can only just happen in your mind. That's called OCD thoughts. And it's what John has in my opinion.

Let's come back to the beginning. What is it, that Augustine says about him here?

What he says is that John:

Constantly checks his environment for signs of betrayal

Always takes care not to be vulnerable

Carefully (and constantly) concerns himself about not doing any lapses.

All those things can already count as rituals, since they intend to calm down a certain fear (fear of loss) (and he does them repeatedly.) They are the compulsion for an obsession and they are what John is (obviously) thinking about all day. Since 10.000 years.

I want to point out at this point that he thinks of this fear as a heavy burden. (What supports the suffering point.) When he talks to Harrow about what her parents have done he offers to free her from living in fear and the consequences of that:

(He breaks his promise. The point still stands :D)

Jod

But hands down, fear of loss, a need for control and heavy OCD don't make a commitant of war crimes. So what is it, that makes John do all those terrible things? He says it himself:

He can do it. He is a God.

And honestly, I don't think any of us would be better at his position. We all have our flaws. "It's not up to people to play God." The truth is, that being God would be completly overwhelming even for a perfectly healthy, stable person.

It surely, definitely is for someone who is not healthy, not stable and has OCD. I have never in my life seen so many people independently of each other describe a disease as "hell on earth." And to be honest, with the knowledge that he is most likely no evil mastermind with the plans for everything, but a very sick man I can't hate him anymore. (That's maybe because he's not real, but book character, but still :D) He is not the God who stands above things, he is suffering himself terribly. His final dream is to die.

That's btw one of the reason he "likes" Harrow so much: Harrow is canonically schizophrenic and schizophrenia is literally just autism and OCD combined. He sees himself in her. (Although I would say she's nothing like him.)

I have OCD for one quarter of my life now - I know how I evil it can be - and honestly, I don't know what I would have done in his position. I'm just genuinly glad I was allowed to be a very normal G when I started to lose contact to reality and experiencing psychological states of emergency. (Although I obviously hope I would be better.) I think it's much more easy to be "evil" if you have the power to be it. I've always said I'd be not a Jod apologist, but - well, I suppose I am.

PS: I ask, I beg you, if you find yourself in this post only the slightest bit and you have NO OCD diagnosis, please seek for help. It's really a thing that untreated OCD gets worse. It's maybe inconvinient to admit to someone that your brain tells you to kill your loved ones (or whatever else your OCD tells you), but it's definitely much more embarrassing to sit there two years later and have to admit that that's only the smallest of your problems.

Further Education (:P)

If you have no idea what OCD can look like I really recommend reading this reddit.

(And btw: I'm very sorry if you didn't feel like your OCD was portrayed right by this post. OCD can be as different as really any other disease. Here I just focused on the kind of OCD John has in my opinion.)

#pls be kind with me even when you disagree #it's pretty sensitive theme for me... umm. I would do the same. deal?#also: so sorry if you already knew all of that ahaha #john gaius #the locked tomb #tlt spoilers

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spidernuggets · 1 year ago

Note

No. 18 "Plea- Please. I can't be hated by you, I just can't" with reader saying this to Jason because he just found out that the Joker is her father

Jason Todd x Joker's Daughter!Reader

"Plea- Please. I can't be hated by you, I just can't."

You tried long and hard to fall out of your father's tight grasp of holding you hostage, telling you many times that you are his flesh and blood. His family. His face and name.

He's repeated that no one in the world will ever love you except him. And even if someone did, if they find out who you're related to, they'd instantly stop loving you. No one in the world is aware of your existence except for him and a few of his goons. Not even Batman knows that the Joker has a kid.

You've watched the Joker torture, maim, kill so many innocent people. You've watched him force other men who can't fend for themselves to work for him.

And for what? Your father does this for a good laugh. Because he's bored. Because he wants to play Tag with Batman.

But with endless lectures and monologues from the Joker, somehow, you remain to stay sane. But every time you tried to escape his hold, he somehow still managed to find you. How does he do it?

You found out from overhearing a discussion to kill Batman that the Joker would use Scarecrow's fear toxin on you to do his bidding, knowing that maltreatment wouldn't get you to do what he wants. And upon this discussion, you hear that you can't escape. That you could never escape from him. He planted a tracking chip, under your tongue.

You instantly ran to what is labelled as your bedroom. But in reality, it's just a small, cramped space with mould growing in all corners, cracks in the walls, and dried blood stains on the floor. But toss an old mattress there, and suddenly it classifies as a bedroom from dear old dad.

There's a shattered mirror hanging on one of the walls. You grab a shard off the floor, staring into the mirror, looking desoerate to take the tracker out. As soon as you lifted your tongue to rip out your tracker, you hear the Joker call for you.

"Ohhh, Y/n, my sweets!" He bellows. You drop the shard, turning to look at your dad with an unamused expression on your face, replying with a harsh 'what'.

"Clear up the attitude, hm? There's someone I'd like you to meet!" He declares, almost in a tune. Your face scrunches in confusion. Joker says no more as he walks away, expecting you to follow, as you do.

You follow him down to the ground floor of the warehouse. And you're shocked to see Robin tied up with barbed wires to a wheelchair. His face is busted, there's dark circles under his eyes, but no one would notice them seeing how bloodied his face was, and his head was hung low.

He looked scared, confused. He looked like he'd given up on trying to escape.

"Meet boy blunder 2.0!" Joker cheered, picking up his crowbar, giving Jason a swing to the leg. Jason grimaces but doesn't scream in pain. He already looks so dead. Joker scoffs in boredom. "Not playing, I see," he mutters. "No matter! I'm quite finished with you anyway. But first!"

The Joker brings out a camera, putting it right in front of Jason. You're confused as to why you were brought down to witness this. You have an understanding that the Joker would kill Robin, but you have no control over what he does. You try to help Robin, and your head would have a bullet in there.

"How long has he been here?" You quietly ask.

"Oh, you know.." The Joker chuckles. "A month... a year? Same difference," he cackles as your eyes widen.

He starts recording, and you don't realise you can be seen in the corner of the background of the footage. The Joker goes on and on with his usual, riddled speeches. Within that, it is revealed to you that this new Robin is identified as Jason Todd, who claims to hate Batman.

"Hey..." The Joker suddenly says to Jason. "I never asked. What's the big secret? Who is the big, bad bat? What's his name? Tell me!" he calmly says.

"Of course, sir. It's-"

No matter how many times you witness your father murder an innocent person, you'd never get used to the sound of his gunshot. Or the sound of his crowbar against bruising flesh. Or his maniacal cackles of dekight when he kills someone. Especially someone who is... was close to Batman.

"Never could stand a tattletale. See, my darling, Y/n?" He says to you. "This is why I work alone. No one to spoil the punchline!" He grands the camera, bringing it to get a closer look at the dead boy in front of you. "You should try it sometime." At this point, you don't know if he's talking to you or the camera. You assume this video footage would be sent to the Bat.

The Joker finishes up the footage, tossing the camera to you as you clumsily catch it. "Export the footage, my sweets. Then, send it to the coordinates that I'll send to you in a bit," he instructs to you.

"Why can't you do it?" You carefully say, trying not to get on his bad side.

"Because..." He hisses, harshly grabbing your face with a firm grip as you winced. "I told you to do it. Now go."

You glare at him, going to go export the footage and send the taoes to the coordinates, in which you assume is where Batman would be currently located.

A month later, everything is quiet. The Joker and most of his goons are out to raid Scarecrow's cookery. You take this opportunity. You head to your room, looking dead in your eyes through the mirror. You slowly open your mouth, sticking your finger in, trying to feel the lumo of where the tracker is situated.

When you find it, you grab a shard, placing it directly over the tracker. You attempted to muffle your whimpers as much as you can to make sure the rest of Joker's goons don't hear you. You were finally able to pop the tracker out, and you hold it up between your eyes, your focus on the blinking light that somehow blinds you. It makes your eyes water, but you drop the tracker to the ground, leaving it there. You're aware that if you step on it, it might send a signal to Joker, indicating that the device he planted in you had been damaged.

So you left it there in your room, you pack whatever shit you can, and you attempt once more to escape that damn warehouse. For the uears you soent in there, you took note of usually unguarded exits and the routines of your dad's goons.

And with that, you successfully stepped foot out of the warehouse. And you took no extra second to bolt away as fast and as far away as you can.

With your bolt for freedom, you go to the closest drug store. Thanks to dear old dad, you managed to steal some essentials. Vitamins, bandages- oh. And some hair dye. You go to whatever public restroom you could find. You got your pocket knife and started to messily cut your hair, along with applying every last drop of that hair dye.

You decided to stay along the outskirts of Gotham. You were never able to get out of the warehouse, so staying in Gotham, a somewhat familiar setting would be safest for you.

And since the outskirts are the poorer sides of town, where the Joker wouldn't be interested in torturing the already tortured, you knew that he wouldn't be a problem for a good while.

So you went around, figuring the in and outs of the outskirts. It's been another few years, and you've forgotten all about the Robin fiasco that occurred in the warehouse. You even forgot that he willingly revealed his identity.

The past few years had been hectic. There was a new Robin roaming around, a new crime lord emerged by the name of Arkham Knight, whose name had died down a bit and is now working alongside Batman... you think?

You were able to get a stable job at Bat Burgers. Luckily, seeing as it's a cheao, greasy fast food place, they didn't need any formal documents. You were able to rent a run-down apartment (which was a huge upgrade to your decomposing room back at the warehouse) and with a little extra cash, you were able to buy snacks for some of the kids along the outskirts.

You were fishing through your bag for your wallet when you bumped into someone, and you hit your face prettg hard against them.

"Ow! Watch it, nitwit!" You snap at them, but they scoff.

"You're the one not watching where you're going," he bites back. And you were about to make a snarky comment, but when you looked up at the stranger, you swear you saw an angel. He was tall... very tall. He also had gorgeous green eyes and a few scars on his face that made him somewhat more attractive.

Your silence indicates to him that you have nothing else to say, and he scoffs once more and leaves. You shake your head away from the thought of how good-looking he was and continued your way towards the grocery store.

You picked up a few meats and vegetables you were going to offer to the soup kitchen down the road, not forgetting to put some candy and snacks in the basket for the kids that would be there.

When you checkout, you headed straight for the soup kitchen, immediately greeting Diane, the owner of the place,with a sweet smile and a wave. You say hi to the other volunteers when you make it to the back of the kitchen, dropping off the plastic bag full of produce, telling the others you won't be long.

When you step out, you're instantly tackled by a bunch of 6 and 7 years olds hugging you tightly, all of them talking at once saying how much they missed you.

"Okay, okay," you laugh with the kids. "Hey, guess what I got," you bend down to their level, lowering your voice, as they all copied you, looking more secretive and quietening. You then whip open your bag, reveal various treats for them as the kids squeal with excitement.

"Alright, alright, one at a time!" You exclaim, happy ti see the kids enjoying their time.

When you wrap things up, you hug the kids once more, saying goodbye and that you'd see them soon. But when you swiftly turn, your face is once more met with a solid surface.

You take a step back, grabbing your nose. "Ow! Shit- again?!" You hiss, your eyes tight shut as your hands apply soothing pressure to your not really broken face.

"You know you shouldn't curse. There's kids around."

You look up, getting a sense of deja vu, seeing the same pair of emerald green eyes looking down at you smugly.

"Ugh.. you," you groaned, secretly glad you got to see him again... just wanting to admire the view, you guess.

"Ugh, me," the handsome stranger mocked with a grin. He stuck his hand out, interested to officially meet the person who continuously walks into his chest. But also, the person who manages to make these kids smile in just a split second.

"Jason."

You raise a brow at his extended arm, shaking it cautiously. "Y/n..." You say, shaking his hand. Didn't he know a Y/n from somewhere?

You notice him wearing an apron. "You volunteer here?" You question as Jason nods his head.

"Whenever I get free time. I only started volunteering recently. Otherwise, I'm just doing whatever. How bout you?"

"Just visits here and there. I don't have time to volunteer fully. Just drop off some food and snacks most of the time, though," you explain, and Jason smiles.

"Well, your time here definitely seems to cheer up those kids. They're always frowning," he says sadly, but you just shrugged.

"It's not much. It's all I can offer. This side of Gotham really isn't Wayne manor," you joke, unaware that you were having a conversation with a son of Bruce Wayne. Well... not until Diane comes up.

"Ah, Y/n! You've met Jason Todd!" She cheers.

Jason Todd. Where have you heard that name before? It's starting to itch the back of your mind.

"Yeah, glad you got another volunteer since you're getting fewer people to help out," you say with a sad smile.

"I know, but it's not every day you get a son of Bruce Wayne to volunteer in a little kitchen," she happily says. One of the workers at the back calls out to Diane for some help. "Well, better get back to work! See you soon, Y/n!" She happily says as she walks off to the back.

Your brows are high, and your eyes are wide as you stare at Jason. "You're... You're a Wayne?!" You say shockingly while looks down at you.

"You didn't know? I'm kind of famous," he starts to say as you look at him cluelessly. "Was announced dead but was actually alove, just gone missing?"

"Nah, doesn't ring a bell."

"Wow, you don't get out much, do you?" He laughs.

"As much as that is an interesting tale to tell, I'm not interested in rich people business," you say as you glance at your watch. "Look, it was nice talking to you. Sorry for walking into you or whatever, but I gotta go. Late for work," you explain as you were about to bolt out the door. But Jason stops you by grabbing your hand.

"Wait! I... I kind of wanted to get to know you more. Can.. I get your number?" He awkwardly asks.

"Oh..." You quietly say. "I... Sorry, I just... Don't have a phone.." You say in embarrassment. But it doesn't seem to bother Jason.

"Oh, well... where do you work? What time would you finish? I can.. uhm. Drop you home if you want?" He offers, and you smile.

"Batburgers. 9pm, " you say as Jason nods and you finally run out the door, sprinting to work.

As promised, Jason comes to visit you half an hour before your shift ends, talking to you about the soup kitchen as you wiped down a table.

When you walk out with him, you notice that he's walking you towards a motorcycle.

"You ride a bike?" You ask.

"Yeah, is that okay?"

"Is it okay?? It's sick!" You exclaim as you hop on behind him once he gets on. Under his helmet, he smiles, thinking how cute your reaction was, as he hands you a spare helmet.

He would be lying if he said his heartbeat sped up when you wrapped your arms around his waist. He just met you. He shouldn't be so nervous around you like this.

"So... would you be free any time this week?" He asks as he walks you up to your apartment complex. You insisted many times you can go on your own, embarrassed for Jason to see where you lived in comparison to Wayne Manor, but Jason assured you that he wouldn't care.

"I have work for the rest of the week," you reply in disappointment. "But... I guess I do finish pretty late each night... wouldn't mind a ride back," you say in hopes that Jason would accept your request of taking both a lift off of him, and his time to talk to him more.

He smiles in response, agreeing to pick you up after work as you gave him your schedule.

Your routine of Jason picking you up during the late nights after work continued. Soon, the two of you went out on actual hangouts through Gotham for a few weeks. Then those weeks turned to months. And soon, Jason frew tired of just being friends with you.

How the hell was he supposed to just be friends with you when his heart raced when you smiled. Or when his cheeks burn when you compliment him. Or when his stomach flutters when you hug him.

How the hell was he supposed to just be friends with you when he's trying so damn hard not to kiss you just because you looked so cute.

Ao he grew himself a pair and asked you out.

Obviously, you said yes.

And another of a couple of dates later, you made it official. Jason was so down bad that he asked you to move into his apartment. You told him so many times you didn't want to intrude his space, but he just called you dumb and ridiculous (which you took great offence to). But eventually, you caved in and agreed.

During this time, you have never felt so loved before. Jason made you forget that the Joker existed. That he was even your father. Jason proved the Joker wrong. There is someone who can truly love you.

But... then your relationship started to get messy. He stopped picking you up from work. He was out late at night, and he wouldn't tell you why. You found him early next morning laying on the couch. He wouldn't even come to bed anymore?

You continuously asked where he's getting these bruises and wounds from. But he wouldn't answer that either. He just told you that it wasn't your business and to leave him alone.

Today, he woke up around noon. He rubbed his eyes and cracked his neck, clearly another uncomfortable sleep.

He was looking around his surroundings when he sees a duffle bag by the door. He then hears from the oppostie side, a door being closed. He turns to see you dressed and with no clear expression on your face.

You've acknowledged that he was awake, but you refuse to make any eye contact with him. You head straight to the door, picking up your duffle bag, fishing through your stuff as you find what you were looking for while Jason remains on the couch confused.

"Where are you going?" He calls out.

"Home." You spit, pulling the spare keys that Jason gave you for his apartment and slammed it on the desk beside the door.

Jason instantly gets up. "W-what? But- But you are home! This is your home! Our home.." he says, panicking.

"Is it? Is our home, Jason?" You yell. "Because you're never here! And when you are here, you're sleeping. Then, you wake up and you go out. And you get hurt. And you're not telling me how or- or why! I don't know if you're cheating or if you're in a fight club, but clearly, you don't want me to know, and clearly, you don't care if I'm worried about you. So, yeah. I'm going home. Oh! And it's over," you hiss, glaring at his, reaching for the door knob.

"Wait- wait! Please. Please, I'll explain," Jason begs, as you turn, a stern look on your face.

Jason sits you down, telling you not to freak out.

Ans you've never hated yourself more than you do now. Jason tells you that he was Arkham Knight, now going by the name Red Hood. And that he used to be the second Robin.

You wanted to scream and cry. That's where you heard the name Jason Todd from. Jason Todd was murdered right in front of your eyes. Jason Todd was tortured by your father. Jason Todd was killed by your father. Jason Todd os dating his murderer's daughter.

You play it off. Saying that it all makes sense. Why he doesn't pick you up anymore. Why he's always out so late. Why he gets so many wounds and bruises.

You'll tell him. You'll tell him who you really are. Soon. It's not fair if he doesn't know. Especially since he's coming clean now.

You'll tell him soon.

You didn't know when soon would be. Every time you think soon is coming, the moment disappears.

Jason's either in too much of a good mood or he's having a breakdown and a nightmare. He has nightmares about the Joker torturing him. And it's you who's there to snap him out of it. It's you who's there to comfort him. You comfort him, telling him that the Joker isn't here. But you are. You tell him that you're there for him.

You feel so guilty. You tell him the Joker isn't out there to get him. But there you are. His own flesh and blood, cradling him, shushing him, whispering sweet nothings to him til he falls asleep once more.

You'll tell him soon.

You grew even more guilty when Jason brings you over to Wayne Manor, and Bruce, Dick and Tim welcome you with open arms. Bruce had this... look in his eyes. But you ignored it nonetheless. Jason gives you a tour of the Manor, even shows you the big cave downstairs, and takes you to his old room. You try to stay optimistic, joking about how he was such a berd, looking at all the classic books laying around. But then you came across an old photo of him. He's younger and in his Robin suit. He looks happy. It was obvious Robin meant so much to him. And your dad took that away from him.

You'll tell him soon.

One day, you went into the cave after receiving a call from Jason.

"Why did you call me here?" You asked.

"Joker's dead." Was all he says. And you froze. You don't know how to feel. Relieved? Does this mean you don't have to tell him who you are?

"I know this is random, but... Superman killed Joker. I don't know if I can finally breathe, but... I don't know. There's a tingle inside of me. Telling me that the Joker is still alive and out to get me."

Shit.

You'll tell him soon. You'll tell him soon, right? Maybe now? Like, the Joker's dead. You've shown nothing but love to Jason. He'd believe you. He'd believe you are not your dad. You'll tell him. Yeah, you'll tell him soon.

Jason sighs and plays the tapes. The tapes that the Joker sent to Batman when he was Robin. And your eyes widen.

"Why the hell are you watching that??" You say in complete fear. The camera that the Joker used was old and glitchy with horrible quality. But as Jason played the tapes, you could still make out that there's a half of a figure, just peeking through the camera in the background behing the tied up, young Jason Todd.

"I don't know... Trying to find a conclusion. If anyone had to kill Joker, it should've been me," Jason says with a low voice.

"Hey... I never asked. What's the big secret? Who is the big, bad bat? What's his name? Tell me!" The tape plays, displaying on the huge screen in front of the two, and you swear you'd throw up any second now.

"Of course, sir. It's-" Before the gun gets shot, Jason sighs, pausing and rewinding.

"I'm sorry. This is all so dark and heavy." Jason grumbles. You don't say anything. You're focused on the small blur in the corner of the footage.

As Jason stares as the paused footage, he mentions, "That doesn't look like one of his henchmen."

Tell him.

"Fuck me, is that another kid?" he mutters angrily to himself, leaning in, taking a closer look at the footage.

Fucking tell him.

Jason takes a breath and presses play, and the video starts with a bang.

Tell him, god dammit.

"Never could stand a tattletale. See, my darling, Y/n?" The Joker says through the video. And time stops. Was the cave always this quiet? The video is still playing. How is it so quiet??

The camera wobbles as the Joker picks it up. He walks closer to Jason's dead body, but for a split second, you're in full, clear view. And Jason pauses the video. You weren't moving. You didn't look scared. You looked fed up.

Jason is silent. That's not you. That can't be you. Jason's head turns from the footage of you to you, currently standing behind him. No, no. That's not you. Your hair colour is different. But your face has the same bone structure.

"Y/n," he calls out. Your name is now so bitter on his tongue. "Tell me that, isn't you. He meant something else, right? 'My darling'? What the fuck does that mean? He was just scaring you, right???" Jason questions, his voice raising each sentence and his bottom lip quivering.

Your eyes are blurry as tears threaten to fall. You walk to Jason, bending down, looking up and you place you hands ever so gently on his knees.

"Jason," your voice cracks. "I wanted to tell you so bad," you whimper.

And Jason lets out a harsh, sarcastic laugh. "Fuck me. Don't fucking tell me you were working with him. You're a real fucking psychopath working with him at what? 13?" He spits, tears cascading down his scarred cheeks.

You shook your head. "Jay," you tried to sweetly call out to him. "I'm his daughter," you pathetically admit.

Jason's eyes widen to the point where it looks like his eyes would detatch from his sockets. He shakes his head slowly. But then, he shakes it faster, harsher.

"That isn't funny, Y/n," he almost chokes saying your name.

"No, it's not funny," you say. "But it's true," you start crying.

Jason pushes you away. You fall back as Jason stands up, towering over you. You've never been so intimidated by him before.

"You're his daughter? The Joker has a daughter?" Jason whispers in disbelief. And you nod in response. "So what the fuck were you doing just standing there? Ha.. What? Did you enjoy watching him put me through hell?"

"Jason- No! I wasn't even there when he-"

"LIAR!" He yells, his voice echoing across the cave. His breathing becomes heavy and uneven.

"Jason, you're going to have a pani-"

"Get out." He says.

"W-what?"

"Get. Out. If I ever see you again, I'll end you. I may not have been able to kill Joker myself, but you? Making me think you loved me? Fuck, is this why you only tell me now? Because daddy's dead? Just get the fuck out and never see me ever again. This is your only chance," he says, looking away from you as you finally start sobbing.

"Jay- Jason. Please," you beg, shifting to your knees, looking up at him. "Plea- Please. I can't be hated by you, I just can't." You pleaded and begged and prayed that Jason would look at you.

But Jason knows that if he looks at your state, then he might forgive you. Might forget the situation. But he can't because your father killed him. And all in his mind is that you used him because you were working with his dad. And that you're only crying because his dad got killed and that you got caught. So, no. He won't look at you, and he won't forgive you.

"Jason, please, you- you're the only person who has ever made me feel loved," you sniffled. "And I- I wanted to help you then. Help you escape. But I couldn't, please! Please believe me, Jason, please," you cried harder.

"You weren't supposed to see that."

You and Jason's heads turn to the voice. Bruce comes out of the elevator to the Batcave, walking closer to the pair.

And all Jason could see is red.

"You knew?" He snarled. And then scoffed. "Well, yeah, of course you knew. You didn't even kill Joker when you found out he murdered me- You didn't even care!" Jason yells. "I don't care that Penguin or- or Riddler are out there. They didn't kill me! They didn't kill thousands- millions! The Joker did! And you kept him alive! Now that he's dead, guess what! His daughter is right here under our noses! And you knew! Do you hate me that much that you let the Joker's daughter into our home?"

"Jason, plea-"

"I TOLD YOU TO GET THE FUCK OUT!" Now that Jasin finally looked at you, all you saw on him face was pure spite and anger. There was no more love for you left in his eyes. Just pure hatred.

And you finally got it. Jason doesn't love you any longer. And your dad was right. Even if someone loves you, when they find out who you're related to, they will instantly stop loving you.

The Joker was right.

So you got up and shamefully left the cave, and once you reached the manor, you can still hear Jason screaming and roaring.

You were numb. You finally got a tatste of what true love felt like, and it slipped through your fingers ever so quickly.

And now the only person you thought ever loved you would kill you if he saw you again.

So you left. You took your stuff from your- Jason's apartment and left Gotham. Now, future generations would probably read about the Joker in their history books. But not on a single page, paragraph or sentence would your name be mentioned. Because only two people in the entire world knew who you were.

One of them was your father's sworn enemies. And the other was your father's victim. One of these people, you hardly knew, but he knew who you were and still trusted you and welcomed you into his home. The other didn't know who you were. And you loved him. And you were positive he loved you too. But once he found out your identity, he loathed you. And he wanted you dead.

god damn that was long

pt 2

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goodqueenaly · 8 months ago

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Why would Theon think that faking Bran and Rickon’s death would be a good idea? He has no idea where they were headed or to whom they might reveal themselves. It’s even said in Theon’s chapter of the search that if they made it to a village, all the people would rally behind the boys. Wouldn’t it make Theon look even more a fool if they showed up alive to Ser Roderick before Ramsey burns Winterfell, but after he killed the miller’s boys? I know Ramsey takes advantage of his desperation under the guise of Reek, but I think even Theon would have been skeptical that the plan would actually work. What is your take on this?

To understand Theon in “Theon IV” ACOK is to examine the simultaneous ego and desperation of a man clinging to a self-made fantasy which is actively crumbling in front of his eyes. Every way Theon turns, literally and figuratively, is wrong - and critically, he has no one to blame but himself. Yet unable to admit how thoroughly he’s ruined the situation, Theon doubles down when it comes to how to handle Bran and Rickon’s disappearance, choosing yet another terrible option in a vain hope of making up for all his other awful choices.

Theon’s great anxiety in this chapter is what to do about the missing Stark boys - but Theon, being ACOK Theon, only thinks of how he believes this dilemma affects him personally. His first thought upon learning the wolves are gone is to worry what would happen “if [Asha] learns that I have lost the Starks” - a thought so terrible to Theon that he concludes “[i]t did not bear thinking about”. Theon later underscores his fear of embarrassment at the hands of his family, deciding that he’d “sooner have them [i.e: Bran and Rickon] dead” than unconsciously running to Asha at Deepwood Motte, as in Theon’s mind “[i]t is better to be seen as cruel than foolish”. As Theon’s hunt continues with no sign of the boys, Theon ruefully realizes that “[e]very passing hour increased the likelihood that they would make good their escape”, that “[t]he people of the north would never deny Ned Stark’s sons, Robb’s brothers” and “[t]he whole bloody north would rally around them”. Once night begins to fall, Theon’s fear of both crystallizes: knowing that “[i]f he crept back to Winterfell empty-handed, he might as well dress in motley henceforth and wear a pointed hat”, since “the whole north would know him for a fool”, Theon can only contemplate with dread “And when my father hears, and Asha …. [sic]”

Unfortunately for Theon, all the poor choices he’s made up to this point only exacerbate his problem. Because Theon decided to take Winterfell with a bare handful of men, he did not have the spare guards to ensure Bran and Rickon did not slip away. Because Theon seized Winterfell by force, its household sees him only as a usurper and betrayer of his foster brothers; likewise, because Theon has treated the people of Winterfell abominably, no one lifts a finger to intervene in Theon’s plan to hunt them down (until Theon has to literally threaten Farlen with the continued rape of his daughter to get him to comply). Too cruel and despicable to be a successful conqueror-turned-protector, yet too vain about his own momentary victory to abandon it in a typical ironborn lightning raid, Theon’s only advantage had been the fact that he held the Stark boys as hostages - an advantage that had seemingly literally disappeared into thin air.

Theon has put himself in a position where he has no good - which is to say, beneficial to his egotistical fantasy - options. He knows that he cannot realistically recapture the Stark boys, and that every hour that passes makes it more likely (so he believes) the Starks will be out of his grasp forever, and in the helpful hands of anti-ironborn northern neighbors. However, Theon also believes that he cannot return to Winterfell empty-handed, lest he become the laughingstock of his sister, his father, the castle’s household, and the whole North. Stuck in the wolfswood, Theon is as lost as Farlen’s hounds, unwilling either to concede defeat or continue on what is increasingly proving a fruitless search.

This is where Ramsay-as-Reek serves, to quote the late great Steven Attewell, as the devil on Theon’s shoulder, apparently offering him an easy (if no less detestable for it) answer to his problem. Killing the miller’s boys solves what Theon sees as his immediate problem; he can both give up the hunt and go back to Winterfell without being empty-handed, giving (so he thinks) no grounds for his father or Asha to complain. Pretending to have killed Bran and Rickon allows Theon to continue to the fantasy of conquest that began with his moonlit capture of Winterfell: he can spout pompous self-justifications like “Mercy was for this morning … [b]efore they made me angry” and “They defied me!” In answer to Luwin’s pleas and Asha’s criticisms.

Putting aside how evil this action is on its own, of course, Theon’s decision does not actually solve his problem, as you note. Yet that is precisely the point: obsessed with the idea of successfully taking Winterfell in a daring raid, Theon has no idea from the first how he is going to hold it, nor indeed what the consequences of any of his actions there might be. Caring only about what can fix the problem directly in front of him, Theon simply seizes the solution preferred by Ramsay-as-Reek as a way out of what he saw as a personally humiliating situation. Worries about how he’s going to defend Winterfell from the increasing combined forces marching on his mostly undefended walls, or whether Bran and Rickon might turn up later, or whether anyone within Winterfell has a death wish for him, are not at the forefront of Theon’s mind in that moment; he only wants to get out of the wolfswood, literally and metaphorically, and the bodies of the innocent miller’s boys let him do that.

#asoiaf meta #theon greyjoy #acok #bran stark #rickon stark

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therantspot · 8 months ago

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I've been seeing a lot of eurylochus hate on tiktok and I've come to rant about how you're allowed to hate him if you want to (I understand) but also, from my point of view, the man doesn't deserve it all. (this is in no way hate towards odysseus, I love the dude)

the way I see it, he literally is just a man. he's made mistakes, obviously. shouldn't have opened the bag, shouldn't have questioned odysseus in front of all the crew, shouldn't have eaten the cows...

but people are calling him a hypocrite for the way he shouts at ody for sacrificing 6 men when he was ready to run for his life when they were with circe. and stupid for opening the bag when he had one job. and dumb for eating the cows.

here's the thing though. eurylochus started out in the musical as the guy that's worried for the dangers that await, he just wants to get home, like everyone else on the ship. he's the first ready to battle for the chance of food to feed themselves and skeptic at polites' view of being nice. he's all "let's get our food by force and get going, we gotta get home" ("I say we strike first, we don't have time to waste, so let's raid the place and-")

but then the kindness plan sort of works. for a quick second, before they start to get slaughtered by a cyclops. odysseus gets them out of it because he's a great leader tho. smart and with a plan, the kind of man eurylochus has relied on for over 10 years. his brother.

but... his brother is tweaking a bit, he had this fight with his matron and lost one of his best friends along with idk how many men that we're under his care... anyone would be traumatized, even if Odysseus doesn't see it yet (I believe he had a time of denial where he wanted to stay positive like polites, but deep down he was spiraling). and eurylochus shows his concern in luck runs out. was he wrong for voicing his concern in front of the crew? absolutely. but I think eurylochus' brain was also tweaking. bro was worried and wants to get home. he also can't help but think how in his war experience, there's many plans that have gone wrong, people around him keep dying and so what if? what if one of his captain's plans goes wrong and they're all goners? and Odysseus understands!! ("thank you for the concern (...) I understand that we're tired, I understand that we're fazed"), but he tries to remind him to have faith in him. so eurylochus does. and I think he's always had faith in his captain, he just didn't trust the gods to be in their favour anymore, because lately, they haven't. he also voiced it at the beginning of the song ("don't forget how dangerous the gods are").

and then eurylochus opened the bag. big fuck up. and maybe it's too far fetched and I'm just looking for ways to justify his behavior BUT. I don't think he did it just to disobey captain's orders. if he had done it because he didn't trust odysseus then guilt wouldn't have been eating him later. I understand it might be because Poseidon suddenly showed up and killed most of the fleet like a minute after he did, that's a big possibility, yes. I also don't think he did because he believed the bag held treasure. he trusted odysseus' word over anything else, so when he said the bag had the storm inside eurylochus believed him. but what if, just what if, by opening just enough the winds would propel them to Ithaca? then again, if the storm was holding them from getting there in the first place why would a man desperate to get home try that? this is not my strongest argument tbh.

then he wants to leave the men as pigs and go home. he truly just wants to go home (10 years of war, a horrible journey back when it should've taken like a week at most, my dude just wants his mom to pick him up and take him home and honestly, same). but bruh. he's been the one that's repeatedly said that they shouldn't trust strangers or gods, reminding everyone to be on their guard, and suddenly his men see a woman and forget all about it???? the guy is traumatized, mourning, tired, and angry. on top of that they placed an enemy that his men should've easily been able to defeat had it been a regular woman and they ended up as pigs, so he really sees no way of beating her and getting anyone back. of course he wants to run away!!! safe whatever is left before he loses himself completely ("look at all we've lost and all we've learned, every single cost is so much more than what we've earned, think about the men we have left before there's none, let's just cut our losses, you and I, and let's run")

and that's exactly the difference between eurylochus in puppeteer and odysseus in Scylla and mutiny. eurylochus wants to run away because he doesn't see another way out. he's seeing his friends disappear one after the other either to death or to magic, and he's on survival mode. whoever is left, whoever is still alive, they should leave before they aren't anymore. they all need to get home. odysseus however, he's blinded by the need to get himself home to see his wife and son. he's the one that has to get home, and to ensure that, they have to pass by Scylla's lair, because if they don't go that way, Poseidon might get them and if he does, he won't let Odysseus get out alive this time. so if 6 men is what it takes, he'll do it. it's not running away, it's sacrificing.

i think the next turning point for eurylochus is actually mutiny. but here it's important to talk about how much the journey has changed him, odysseus, and their relationship and the way they see each other. like i said, eurylochus starts the journey worried about what's up ahead and, like everyone else, thinking only about getting home. but he trusts his captain with his life in every decision he makes. he also speaks for the entire crew. odysseus also starts the journey tired and thinking only about getting to ithaca. but he's got 600 men to think about as well. as captain, their lives and deaths are on him, and with every turn, he loses more and more of these men. like it or not, he's responsible for it, even if he tried his best, even if he didn't mean for it to go in that direction; he's in charge, he's responsible. it's sorta like when parents tell the eldest kid they're the model for the younger siblings.

but in the polyphemus' cave, when odysseus panics and eurylochus has to wake him up from his unresponsive state, it's not only a blow for ody, it's also a blow for eurylochus. he relies on odysseus to carry them through and he wasn't answering. they were all going through the same thing, watching their friends die, but he was the one that's supposed to keep it together the most. alas, they're all just men. and that's when eurylochus' concerns and picture perfect of odysseus start to show and blur.

odysseus still tries his best to lead with kindness like polites showed him, taking care of everyone as he should, but with every passing day and with every hardship, it becomes more and more difficult to do so. and then, just when he thinks he's about to get the answer that will save them all, by going down to literal hell, the guy with the answer tells him he won't get home to his wife and kid (the thing that's been keeping him sane and giving him hope throughout this shit of a journey). that everything they've done, all the kindness, all the being nice, has been for nothing. he also realizes that he's taking way too long and he's losing too much, like his mom, who was left waiting. so he breaks (monster).

throughout this whole thing, he never doubted eurylochus would be by his side, and he lowkey neglects and takes him for granted. dismissing when he wants to tell him something ("whatever you need to say can wait some more, of that i'm sure" in puppeteer, and if he'd let him talk he probably would've been able to prevent mutiny, but he was too distraught and wanted time to think), and he was warned in keep your friends close too, even if he didn't know it. he was also warned by the prophet, but he still didn't know it ("i see a brother's final stand"). i think it's because while odysseus did want them all to go back home, at least during most of their travels, he mostly wanted to get home himself. deep down, he was always ready to make the sacrifices, life just hadn't forced him to make them or hadn't made the right circumstances or traumatized him enough.

eurylochus sees how the experiences change him from the outside, and what it means for the rest of them every time odysseus loses himself some more. but this is odysseus, it's his brother, the man he entrusts his life to, the man that's guided them through war and the underworld, taken them out of the weirdest troubles, and the man that's most desperate to reach ithaca. and the guy that's seemingly gotten his shit together (finally) and is ready to do whatever it takes, slay whoever now (different beast). so he'll pull through, right? he might be a monster towards the dangers that are trying to get them, but he's always done his best to protect them, so there's nothing to worry about.

so a part of eurylochus has trouble believing odysseus would really sacrifice six of their friends, because he doesn't want to believe it. but the smartest man he knows wouldn't just tell them to "run for their lives" when he's well aware they're in a fucking boat. and he is desperate. eurylochus asks, begs, odysseus to tell him he's wrong in thinking he didn't just do what he did, because he needs his brother to not have gone completely off the path they paved at the beginning of the story ("use your wits to try and say i'm crazy and mad, that this is all a trick the gods have sent").

but he's too far gone in his tunnel vision, and eurylochus has to think of himself and the men that are left too, who also want to get to their families. and at the rate this is going, he's losing too many friends. at first, odysseus was to blame only in the "he's responsible for all of us because of his role as captain", but he never meant for their men to die and he tried with all his might to keep them safe, but as of right now, he used them as bait and let them die on purpose. he can't stay in charge if he won't fulfill his role as keeper of them. so eurylochus stages mutiny. rightfully so? maybe, maybe not. i personally think he didn't do it out of hate, he just didn't see another out. but he wasn't a hypocrite any more than odysseus was, so in my opinion, he was justified.

anyway then they get to the sun god's island. and people like to say that he shouldn't have killed them cows. and this is one of the parts were the hate makes me lowkey mad. as humans, when we're pushed to a point of heavy starvation or anything that endangers our lives, we enter survival mode, where instincts take over and we do things we wouldn't do if we were in our right minds. and that's exactly it, eurylochus and the rest of the crew weren't in their right minds anymore. they're hungry, and they don't have the willpower odysseus seems to have. they've given up after everything they've been through, and they're hungry and don't think they'll make it home anyway, so they eat the cows. eurylochus can't help it, and even after all, he still cares for odysseus, but he doesn't believe in their chances anymore ("ody, we're never gonna get to make it home, you know it's true", "i'm starving/tired, my friend"). he's past the point of hoping, he wants it all to end, and he can only think of his hunger, the one thing he can actually do something about in that moment. ("how much longer must i suffer now? how much longer must push through doubt? how much longer must i go about my life like this, when people die like this?" he repeats it in plural as well, voicing the crew)

so in the end, he kills the cow. and then odysseus gets to choose and he chooses himself. he has to see his wife and he'll take any opportunity that allows him to. he's on survival mode too, just with a different goal, the one that keeps him sane and makes him push through everything horrible that happens to him.

the odyssey is a story that shows how its characters lose themselves to sorrow, each in a different way. so neither odysseus nor eurylochus are to blame for the way they acted, life pushed them to the edge and they each responded in different ways. it wasn't fair to either of them, they're just men that can only withstand so much.

#epic the musical #eurylochus #odysseus #they all just wanna go home!!!#all of them #not just ody #i love the development they both have even if uts tragic #it's very human and I think it's great bc of that

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babyrdie · 5 months ago

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Okay, I'll talk more about Achilles, Patroclus and Antilochus. Why not? What I want to talk about here is how Philostrathus describes a supposed painting of the death of Antilochus (I say "supposed" because there is debate as to whether all the paintings described in Imagines actually existed or were literary devices). In such a short amount of time, he compartmentalizes a lot of what is special about these three and a few others (the other Achaeans, especially Menelaus).

Philostratus begins not with a description, but with a brief introduction, recapping who Antilochus is by using Homer. He reminds you, the reader, of how special Antilochus is to Achilles. He talks about how Menelaus asked Antilochus to give the news of Patroclus' death to Achilles, saying that it was intentional on Menelaus' part that Antilochus was chosen. Not only because of his speed, but for Philostratus it's also because Menelaus knew that Achilles would need him. And he did. Antilochus not only stopped him from killing himself by holding his hands, he also provided comfort. A comfort, as Philostratus says, "Achilles no doubts rejoices."

That Achilles loved Antilochus you must have discovered in Homer, seeing Antilochus to be the youngest man in the Greek host and considering the half talent of gold that was given him after the contest. And it is he who brings word to Achilles that Patroclus has fallen, for Menelaus cleverly devised this as a consolation to accompany the announcement, since Achilles’ eyes were thus diverted to his loved one; and Antilochus laments in grief for his friend and restrains his hands lest he takes his own life, while Achilles no doubt rejoices at the touch of the youth’s hand and at the tears he sheds.

Translation by Arthur Fairbanks.

You see, much is said of how inconsolable Achilles was in The Iliad. Much is said of his seemingly endless sadness and rage. But little is said of this moment of comfort. Short, but special. And we know it's special, given how commonly Antilochus has been referred to as a person dear to Achilles in the sources, second only to Patroclus. This is attested to as early as The Odyssey, when the ghost Agamemnon speaks of Achilles' funeral. And this comfort isn't just about Achilles, but about both of them. For, as Homer describes it, Antilochus was crying as he ran. Patroclus wasn't just important to Achilles, he was important to other people as well. Menelaus didn't defend his body "as a mother cow lows over her firstborn, knowing nothing before this of bearing young" (Caroline Alexander) just because it was cultural practice to recover bodies, just because Achilles needed Patroclus. It's because he is sad too, he cares too. When Automedon talks about how Patroclus could control the divine horses Xanthus and Balius, he isn't just talking about the loss of Patroclus' usefulness. He is mourning the loss of a companion, someone who had shared activities with him. And even the horses were in mourning, blaming themselves for the death of their Patroclus. It's the same with Antilochus. Antilochus, in comforting Achilles, is comforting himself. Because this loss is great for Achilles, but it isn't a grief that belongs only to him. Antilochus is saying "I understand you, I'm here." And just as Antilochus was there for his companion, Achilles was there for him.

And then Philostratus describes the death scene. And there are so many elements:

Now such is the scene in Homer, but the events depicted by the painter are as follows: Memnon coming from Ethiopia slays Antilochus who had thrown himself in front of this father, and he seems to strike terror among the Achaeans – for before Memnon’s time black men were but a subject for story – and the Achaeans, gaining possession of the body, lament Antilochus, both the sons of Atreus and the Ithacan and the son of Tydeus and the two heroes of the same name. The Ithacan is made known by his austere and vigilant look, Menelaus by his gentleness, Agamemnon by his god-like mien, while the son of Tydeus is marked by his nobility, and you would recognize the Telamonian Ajax by his grimness and the Locrian by his alertness. And the army mourns the youth, standing about him in lamentation; and, their spears fixed in the ground and their legs crossed, they stand, most of them in their grief bowing their sorrowing heads on their spears. You are not to recognize Achilles by his long hair, for that is gone since the death of Patroclus, but let his beauty make him known to you, and his stature, aye, and the very fact that he does not wear long hair. He laments, throwing himself on the breast of Antilochus, and he seems to be promising him a funeral pyre and the offerings to be placed upon it and perchance the arms and head of Memnon; for he proposes that Memnon shall pay all the penalties Hector paid, that in this respect also Antilochus may have no less honour than Patroclus had. Memnon, stands, terrible to look upon, in the army of the Ethiopians, holding a spear and wearing a lion’s skin and sneering at Achilles. Let us next look at Antilochus. He is in the prime of youth, just beyond the period of downy beard, and his bright hair is his pride. His leg is slender and his body proportioned for running with ease, and his blood shines red, like colour on ivory, where the spear-point penetrated his breast. The youth lies there, not sad of aspect nor yet like a corpse, but still joyous and smiling; for it was with a look of joy on his face (because, I fancy, he had saved his father’s life) that Antilochus died from the spear-thrust, and the soul left his countenance, not when he was in pain, but when gladness prevailed.

Translation by Arthur Fairbanks.

The characters are described by their reactions. You know who Menelaus is by the gentleness of his face, you know who Odysseus is by his watchful gaze. But when he describes Achilles, he says: "You are not to recognize Achilles by his long hair, for that is gone since the death of Patroclus, but let his beauty make him known to you, and his stature, aye, and the very fact that he does not wear long hair." You recognize Achilles by the loss of what he once was, represented by his hair. You know that the man with the clearly freshly cut hair is Achilles because that is the symbol of someone who has been in mourning. Someone who is in mourning right now, for the second time in a short time. And it's interesting to think about it. To think that Achilles' hair didn't even have time to grow back before Antilochus was gone too. Achilles couldn't even dream of dedicating his hair to Antilochus as he did to Patroclus because, with such a recent mourning, there wasn't even enough hair to do it. When Patroclus died, Achilles' balance died too. He was already violent and intense before, but anger and sadness like that had never been seen in him before. But when Antilochus died, the perception of comfort he had is what died. And Philostratus predicts that you're still imagining Achilles with his long hair. Yes, the epic Achilles of the battlefield. But this isn't the epic Achilles of the battlefield, he reminds you, this is a broken Achilles. This is someone who has lost two loved ones, someone who has lost Patroclus and Antilochus.

And as with Patroclus, Achilles won't bring him back. He killed Hector, but Patroclus was still a ghost. Achilles still couldn't embrace him, no matter how much he wanted to. According to the myth, Achilles killed Memnon because of Antilochus. And yet, Antilochus won't return. Like Patroclus, he is gone, never to return. But they will be reunited. Achilles isn't immortal, he is very mortal, he is destined for death. This is a con of his prophecy, where the pro is his undying glory. And yet, it's this negative point that will allow him to be with those he loves. Those who, like him, are mortal. Killing Hector and Memnon will feel empty, but will dying feel empty? When he sees Patroclus and Antilochus in the afterlife, will dying still feel empty?

But if, on the one hand, Patroclus in The Iliad died arrogantly when declaring to Hector that he could defeat him and when decreeing that he would soon die, Antilochus died… simply happy: "The youth lies there, not sad of aspect nor yet like a corpse, but still joyous and smiling; for it was with a look of joy on his face (because, I fancy, he had saved his father’s life) that Antilochus died from the spear-thrust, and the soul left his countenance, not when he was in pain, but when gladness prevailed". The idea of dying doesn't sadden him, not if it means that Nestor is alive. He is a son who values his father more than himself. This stark contrast in the way Achilles laments over his body, even momentarily abandoning the glory of the battlefield for it (note how Memnon is there and yet Achilles pays him no attention), while Antilochus himself is smiling…Philostratus knew what he was doing in this description.

And finally: "His leg is slender and his body proportioned for running with ease". It's said when describing Antilochus. Just a reminder that, like Achilles, he was a runner. Just as this whole scene is a reminder that, like Patroclus, he was a companion and someone to be mourned. Patroclus is often thought of as a kind of complement to Achilles, especially in the shared armor episode. But I think Antilochus is too, he reflects both Patroclus and Achilles.

#Antilochus #Patroclus #Achilles #Patrochilles #Birdie.txt

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love--and--venom · 8 months ago

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Dead Man Walking: Chapter Two

Chapter Summary: You tell Chan and Hongjoong how you ended up alone. Afterward, you get to know the group and start to work on pulling your weight.

Warnings: Descriptions of violent deaths, allusions to SA, suicidal thoughts

Series Masterlist

You refused to look up from your lap, scared that you would lose your fragile composure.

“It happened a little over three weeks ago,” you began, already feeling the sting of tears at the back of your eyes. “I wasn’t alone in the beginning. I was with my two best friends, Emma and Grace.

We were trying to make our way north. Emma had heard a rumor that the dead don’t like the cold. We had set up our camp for the night in the woods at the edge of the city. It was the middle of the night and it was my turn to take watch.” You paused to suck in a shaky breath, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“I fell asleep. I woke up to screaming. A group of, like, ten men had us surrounded. They were laughing and bragging about finding three girls to bring back to their camp. They kept saying they could use us have some fun.” You spat at the memory.

“Three of the men moved to grab us while the others gathered our stuff for themselves. All of a sudden, Grace screamed and threw herself into the men. She told me and Emma to run. I was frozen, but Emma pulled me up and dragged me toward a thicker area of trees. Someone shot her in the leg. She pushed me forward, begging me to keep running. The last thing I saw was a man stabbing the back of her neck.

I’ve been alone since then. I’ve been in a pretty hazy state of mind, I don’t know how I wasn’t killed. Before Yeosang found me, I was wandering around the shops for anything useful. I turned a corner and saw a few walkers a block away. One of them must have smelled me, cus they started sprinting toward me, and more just kept popping up. I was going to let them kill me, I was tired and so, so lonely. But in my mind I heard Emma and Grace yelling for me to run, to survive, and I ran on instinct. That’s when Yeosang grabbed me.” You finally lifted your gaze to the men sitting across from you. They looked back at you with a mix of sadness and understanding.

“I’m sorry. We’ve lost people, too, but I can’t imagine how you must have felt seeing your friends taken so cruelly,” Chris sighed, trying to offer some comfort with a kind look in his eyes. You sniffled and swiped at the traitorous tear that escaped.

“It was my fault. If I hadn’t fallen asleep, I would have seen them coming. They’d probably be alive right now. It should have been–”

“Don’t.” Hongjoong interrupted, speaking for the first time since you met him. “Don’t you dare say it should’ve been you. What’s done is done, the past can’t be changed. Mourn them. But you can’t give up. If you die, their memory dies too. Then they’re truly gone.” His words cut into you deep and you couldn’t hold back your sobs any longer. You hunched in on yourself, burying your face in your hands.

“You can stay with us.” Chan’s voice was closer now. You felt hands on your knees, and looked up to see him crouching in front of you. Your body sagged in relief as Chan ran his thumbs in soothing circles on the tops of your thighs.

“Minho told us that you’re a ‘sort of doctor.’” Hongjoong stated with air quotes after you calmed down. “What does that mean?” Chan moved to sit beside his co-leader again.

“I was an autopsy technician, basically a doctor for the dead.” The leaders shared a look of concern.

“But you know how to treat living people, right?” Hongjoong asked, eyeing you skeptically.

“Yes,” you answered immediately. He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t push it.

“We need to get our supplies more organized. Minho is trying to do it all himself and won’t admit he needs help. Can you try to get him to split the responsibility?” Chris asked.

“I’m pretty sure he hates me, why would he listen to my suggestion?”

“He might not,” Chris shrugged. “Worth a shot, though, since he’s ignored all of us.”

“I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises,” you agreed. They told you where you could find Minho, so you headed toward what used to be the office’s break room. You made a pit-stop at the maintenance room to pick up your backpack and peeped in the break room. As promised, Minho was sifting through the group’s resources with a notebook in hand.

“What do you want?” Minho didn’t even look up at you to ask. You stepped fully into the room.

“Chris said you could introduce me to everyone,” you quickly came up with an excuse.

“Oh, great, babysitting,” he grumbled as you moved to look around him at the things piled on the counter. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just a lot of stuff.”

“That’s a good thing,” he glared at you over his shoulder.

“It is, but it also looks like a lot to keep track of,” you noted. Minho sighed heavily, fully turning to you.

“Is there a point to this conversation?”

“Yeah, actually,” you grinned to annoy him further. “You should let someone help.”

“I don’t need help,” he snapped at you.

“Uh-huh, sure you don’t,” you drawled. “You’re tired, I can see it. You look worse than some of the corpses I’ve examined.” Minho’s eyes narrowed while yours softened.

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“You look pale and you have horrible dark circles under your eyes. You’re obviously taking on too much at once and you’re going to burn out if you don’t let someone take some of the responsibility.” You could see his inner conflict in his eyes.

“What do you have in mind?” He asked hesitantly. You smiled gently and pulled him to sit at one of the tables.

“Split the shit up, like items with like items. Then have one person in charge of each category.” Minho tapped his fingers on his chin, considering your words. Slowly, he nodded.

“That’s… not a bad idea,” he admitted.

“Thanks, I think. How do you want to divide it?”

“Food, weapons, household, and medical,” he decided after a moment of deliberation.

“Nice. Who do you want to put in charge?” He glared at you, making you throw your hands up in surrender. “Hey, it doesn’t have to be me. I know you don’t trust me yet.” The room fell to silence while Minho mulled it over. You didn’t want to pressure him, so you busied yourself with finding notebooks to catalog everything. This turned out to be a very easy task. The former office building had an abundance of extra notebooks, pens, markers, and various other stationary supplies. You brought four notebooks and a marker back to your seat.

“I want to do the food. I think Jongho can take household and medical supplies, and Changbin and San can split the weapons. One of them in charge of guns and the other silent weapons.” As Minho spoke, you wrote the category and group member’s name on the front covers of each notebook, grabbing one more for both weapon categories.

“Okay, let’s go let them know. I still don’t know everyone’s names, though.” You stacked your notebooks, hooked pens onto the spirals, and tucked the marker into your pocket.

“Wait,” Minho grabbed your arm. You furrowed your brows as he hesitantly continued. “If he’s okay with it, you can help Jongho. Just make sure you do what he says.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

“Come on, I’ll show you around.” Minho led you out of the break room. He went through each room, pointing out what it was used for and telling you the names of anyone inside. Jongho was the quiet guy from the rooftop and he readily agreed to his new role. You handed him the notebook and pen and he immediately left to get everything written down. You had met almost everyone, with the final two being the appointed weapons masters.

“Changbin, San, I have an offer for you,” Minho called out as he pushed open the door to the maintenance room. These two were the obvious muscle of the group. Both of them were absolutely jacked.

“What’s up?” The shorter of the two furrowed his eyebrows, looking warily between you and Minho.

“I want you two to take charge of our weapons catalog. Who wants to take guns and who wants silent weapons?” The way he phrased it made this more like a demand rather than an offer.

“Oh! I’m glad you’re finally letting us help, man. I don’t mind either way. You have a preference, San?” You could finally put the final names to their respective faces.

“I can take the silent weapons.” You added San’s name to the silent weapons notebook and handed it to him, doing the same for Changbin and the gun notebook. They, too, got to work cataloging the group’s weapons. You and Minho returned to the break room, joining Jongho to work in silence. Jongho had moved everything except for the food and water out of the room.

“I brought everything to one of the empty offices,” Jongho explained when he saw Minho’s confusion. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, can I see which room?” Jongho nodded and led the two of you to his new storage room. It was just big enough to fit a desk, office chair, and a hip-height cabinet. The desk and cabinet were both, thankfully, empty. You eyed up the medical supplies sitting in the middle of the floor.

“Wow, you guys have a lot of good stuff here,” you remarked. “What, did you raid a hospital before you settled down?”

“Yes,” Minho and Jongho answered at the same time.

“Oh!” You decided against asking any more questions.

“Y/N can help with anything you need,” Minho said before leaving you alone with the second youngest.

“So,” he started, bringing your attention to him. “How’s your handwriting?” Jongho had you write everything down as he put the supplies away in the cabinet and the various drawers in the desk. You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t hear Felix come in.

“Wow, you actually got this place organized.” You yelped, dropping your pen and swinging around to glare at the Aussie from your spot on the floor. He cackled behind his hand, leaning against the doorway.

“Felix! Don’t sneak up on me!”

“Holy shit, sorry, but you jumped like a foot off the ground,” he teased while clutching his stomach. You rolled your eyes as Jongho joined in Felix’s laughter.

“Alright, alright! It’s not that funny. What did you need?” You huffed and changed the subject.

“Dinner’s ready. We’ve been shouting for both of you for a couple minutes now,” he explained.

“Oh, shit, sorry.” You quickly stood and followed Felix to the break room. Minho was dishing out small portions of rice topped with a slice of spam.

“Finally! Chan won’t let us start eating until everyone gets their plate,” Jisung complained. You muttered an apology, more focused on the food. You’ve only had a granola bar today, and that was right after you woke up. Minho handed you a plate and you had to force yourself to eat it slowly.

“I saw the new notebooks. Good job, guys,” Chris praised. “And good job getting Minho to agree, Y/N.” That comment earned him a half-hearted glare from the younger man.

“I like how you divided the supplies up. It makes things a lot easier to find.” Hongjoong agreed. You perked up at the praise, pleased that you were earning your place in the group.

“Who’s going on the run tomorrow?” Seonghwa chimed in, looking at the group’s leaders.

“Hyunjin, San, Wooyoung, and Seungmin. It should be a quick one, there and back within a few hours,” Chan answered. “They’re gonna head out after breakfast.” The rest of the evening went by in a blur. After dinner, you sat with Jongho as he finished up his inventory list, then joined everyone else in a large waiting room-looking area of the building. Thin blankets were strewn across the carpeted floor.

You sat against the wall, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on them. Yeosang quietly removed himself from Jisung’s clingy hug to sit beside you. The group split into various cuddle piles but still included everyone in conversation. You stayed quiet for the most part, opting to listen to the others talk. You chimed in every now and then, and answered their questions about medical school and your home state. One by one, the group members succumbed to sleep. Mingi stayed up on first watch, looking out of a nearly invisible slit in the wood planks.

Falling asleep sitting up would leave your neck sore in the morning, but your contentment and feeling of safety being surrounded by others made it worth the discomfort.

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98

Series Taglist: Open, comment or send an ask to be added!

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dioslesbianwife · 1 month ago

Note

Hope you have a nice weekend (or weekday) :D

First: I absolutely love the way you write! You're so accurate with each chadacter! Great job! Absolutely love it!

Second: If You don't mind I would like to request jofoes (especially Diablo and Kars) with a reader that tries their best in a shitty job but breaks down because the mental strain is too much and feels awful about themselves being not strong enough to withstand the pressure.

No matter if you decide to write it or not - great job and I wish you all the best!!! May your pillow alays be comfortably cold on both sides :)

i hope u have a nice rest of your week too <3 and thank you for the kind words, honestly i get anxious worrying abt if my fics and hcs are too out of character so it means the world to me that you think i'm accurately depicting these characters 😭 hope u enjoy and ty for requesting <333

Dio

You come home exhausted, physically and emotionally wrecked, and Dio immediately notices the slump in your shoulders.

He doesn’t understand why you’re so upset at first. To him, jobs are beneath you. “Why do you tolerate this treatment? Do they not know who you are?”

But when you break- quiet tears and trembling words like “I’m trying, I’m trying so hard, and it’s never enough”- he goes dead silent.

He pulls you into his lap, lets you cry into his silk robe, and mutters fiercely, “You are more than enough. They do not deserve you.”

Offers to kill your boss. Joking. (Maybe.)

Encourages you to quit. He’ll take care of you. No shame, no weakness- “You withstood it longer than I ever would have. That isn’t failure. That’s strength.”

Kars

He notices the signs of burnout before you do. The fake smiles, the late nights, the way your hands tremble.

When you finally snap- sniffling, ashamed, whispering how weak you feel for breaking down- he kneels in front of you.

His hands gently take yours, voice soft:

“Do not apologize for reaching your limit. The strongest beings know when to rest.”

He holds you close, murmuring about how even the Pillar Men slept for millennia. Even if they had no choice, rest is part of endurance, not a betrayal of it.

Kars is logical, but not unfeeling. He talks through what’s hurting you, how it can be changed or escaped. He strategizes for your survival.

Will craft a new path with you, even if that means burning the old one down. He refuses to see you suffer needlessly.

And when you whisper, “I thought I was stronger than this…”

He only replies, “You are. Strength isn’t surviving forever- it’s surviving until you can rest.”

Yoshikage Kira

Your breakdown interrupts his otherwise calm evening. You try to hide it, but the sniffles and shivering shoulders give you away.

At first, he’s frozen- unsure how to handle such open emotion. But once he sees you crack, he sets down his tea and wordlessly wraps his arms around you.

“You’re not weak. You’ve been doing everything alone, haven’t you?”

He sits with you on the couch, lets you lean on him while he strokes your hair.

Kira is quiet but supportive. He reminds you that peace is the only thing that matters- and if this job threatens your peace, it’s not worth your soul.

Offers a cold, efficient plan to get you out. He’ll even falsify documents to get you better work, if needed.

You’re his quiet place. He will not let the world shatter you.

Diavolo

Diavolo has a deep hatred for systems that trap people. He sees your job as another prison.

When you come home shaking, muttering “I can’t take it anymore” while collapsing in his arms, he holds you like you’re glass.

“You are not weak. They are cruel.”

His voice drops low, protective and furious.

He encourages you to talk. Every detail. He listens and listens, nods, and never once says “you should’ve tried harder.”

“You gave them your strength, and they wasted it. That is their shame, not yours.”

He strokes your hair, rocks you slowly, and promises you will never be at the mercy of others again.

Even if he has to bend time and reality to make it happen, he will free you.

And if you ever say “I’m sorry for being weak”- he grabs your face and says don’t you ever apologize for surviving.

Enrico Pucci

At first, he tells you that trials like this test your resolve. That pressure leads to transformation.

But once he realizes this isn’t just struggle- it’s despair- he kneels beside you in quiet remorse.

“Even Jesus wept. You are allowed to fall.”

Holds your hands in prayerful silence, then speaks softly about grace and rebirth.

He reminds you that suffering is not a sign of failure. It is the mark of someone trying to live righteously in a broken world.

Offers you structure and support- a path to something better. He’s spiritual, but also practical.

“The world is cruel to good people. But I see you. And I believe in you.”

Funny Valentine

You push through for so long. Always saying “I’m fine.” Until you crumble one night, sobbing into your coat, unable to even take your shoes off.

He’s by your side immediately. Takes your hand, removes your coat, helps you sit.

“You’ve done your duty. More than anyone could ask.”

He treats you like a soldier returning from war- tender, reverent, proud. You lasted in a losing battle.

“There is no shame in needing rescue. That’s what I’m here for.”

Valentine believes loyalty deserves reward. And you were loyal- to your job, to your life, to surviving.

Now he’ll be loyal to you. He offers you a better role, better life, better future.

Diego Brando

At first, he brushes it off with “So quit then.” He doesn’t get it right away- he’s more fight than flight.

But the moment he sees your eyes brim with tears, hands shaking as you say “I don’t want to be weak,” he stops cold.

“Don’t say that. You’re not weak. You lasted way longer than most people would.”

He pulls you to sit beside him, lets you lean into his shoulder. Diego doesn’t say much, but his presence is grounding.

You fall asleep against him, and the next day, he’s already researching other paths for you- without even telling you.

“They were lucky to have you. Too bad they didn’t deserve you.”

Tooru

Tooru gets quiet when you break down. He sees the cracks in you and doesn’t tease, doesn’t even comment at first.

He wraps his arms around you and just rocks you. "You tried. You really tried. I know you did."

He murmurs how proud he is. “You held it together for so long… it’s okay to fall apart now.”

Lets you cry into his chest for as long as you need.

Buys you comfort food, your favorite snacks, and plays your comfort songs without you asking.

If he suspects anyone hurt you at work, they might mysteriously get food poisoning or slip in the parking lot. He never admits anything.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #dio #dio brando #funny valentine #kira yoshikage #diavolo #kars #enrico pucci #kira #dio x reader #kars x reader #diavolo x reader #yoshikage kira x reader #pucci x reader #funny valentine x reader #jjba tooru #tooru x reader #diego brando x reader #diego brando

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ambiguous-avery · 6 months ago

Text

Chasing Shadows, Part 1

Dean Winchester x OC fem!Touched!Reader/You | WC: 2,999

Summary: She’s never been afraid of the dark, not really. She’s more concerned about getting lost in it. He’s haunted by every dark deed he’s ever done. It’s constantly nipping at his heels like a hell hound. He’s her light in the dark, and she’s the one bit of darkness he’s willing to embrace.

A series of murders has drawn the Winchesters to your small town, and for some reason, you’re at the center of it all. What are you hiding? And why does it seem to be painting a target on those around you?

Tags/Warnings: No use of Y/N, canon-typical violence, eventual romance, eventual smut, fluff and angst, POV alternating (sometimes a little all over the place), no beta we die like men

Disclaimer: The base concept of Touched comes from @aylacavebear and is used with permission. I’ve taken creative liberties with it.

A/N: I’ve never posted any of my work anywhere before, so this is a huge leap of faith for me. I’ve just gotten into the Supernatural fandom, so forgive me if there are things that don’t line up with the canon. I’m still in the early seasons of the show! I’m also new to writing x reader fics, so feedback is always welcome! I'll probably end up adding warnings as this goes on. Chasing Shadows Series Masterlist

This was the fifth murder in two weeks. The reports Sam had found had hinted at possible ritual killings due to the bodies reportedly being bloodless, but really, the Winchesters knew better. Everything about the deaths screamed vampires, so the question was less about ‘what’ was killing and more about ‘how many’ were doing the killing. Dean adjusted the collar of his suit and squared his shoulders before knocking on the door in front of him. Their initial snooping into the cases had led them to the most recent victim’s best friend. You.

“Hello,” Dean said your name and flashed his fake FBI badge with practiced ease. “I’m Agent Ehart; this is Agent Greer. We were hoping we could ask you some questions.” You gave each of them a quick visual once-over before you stepped aside and opened the door wider for them. They each gave a quick, appreciative nod and situated themselves on a couch in the living room, looking wholly out of place against the decorations and outdated couch fabric.

“Can I get either of you something to drink?” you asked. Sam shook his head.

“We’re alright, thank you. I’d like to start off with "we're very sorry for your loss." I’m sure it isn’t easy,” he began, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together.

“Thank you,” your tone was clipped as you sat down across from them. Your body language spoke volumes. The way your shoulders were hunched. The way you almost seemed to curl in on yourself, trying to be as small as possible. Your eyes were still red and swollen, the result of at least one recent cry session, probably more. “I already spoke with the police.”

“We understand. See, we’re conducting our own investigation. With so many recent incidents happening in such a short span of time, we’ve been called in,” Sam said, keeping his tone polite but professional.

“So… five deaths is the threshold for the police to bring in the big guns, huh?” They thought you might have been trying to make a joke, but there wasn’t any humor in your voice. Dean wet his lips before responding.

“Something like that… if it isn’t too much to ask, could you go over the night it happened? Anything stand out in your memory?”

You thought for a moment, running the night through your mind. As you reiterated the evening to them, they listened with rapt attention. You had been over the story so often and in so much detail that it was beginning to sound rehearsed. In a way, it sort of was.

“We were out at a restaurant. We’ve both been so busy lately that we haven’t had some girl time, so we were catching up. It was uneventful, really,” you said with a half shrug. “The strangest thing about the night was a guy who crashed into her on our way out. But again, I’ve already told the police about him.” You looked at Agent Ehart, trying to get a read on him. Unsurprisingly, he wore a sort of grim determination on his face, but there was something else there. You weren’t sure you could put your finger on it. He seemed a bit young to be an agent – both of them did – but he carried the world-weariness of someone who had lived many more lifetimes than appearance would suggest. You wondered what kind of stories he might share over a drink or two.

“Tell me more about this guy,” the one with longer hair – Agent Greer, was it? – cut in. You jerked your head to look at the other agent, abruptly pulled back into the present moment.

“I dunno. There’s not much to say about him. We stepped out of the restaurant, and he walked right into her. Knocked her purse to the ground. All her stuff spilled out, and he couldn’t even be bothered to stop and apologize. Kinda seemed like he was drunk with the way he was stumbling on his feet.” You shifted a bit in your seat. Now was hardly the time to get distracted, not when you were a hair's breadth away from falling to pieces.

“Have you seen him around town before?” the same agent continued.

“Can’t say I have. Then again, I tend to keep to myself when I’m out and about. I don’t think I’d be able to recognize the barista I see every few days if I passed them in a grocery store.”

“I see… and you’re sure there’s nothing else you can think of that seems… odd to you? Really, any detail you might feel doesn’t matter might end up being quite significant. No matter how unbelievable it might be.” You were quiet for a moment, debating. “I promise, there’s nothing you can tell us that we haven’t heard before,” Agent Greer pushed. Something about the hazel-eyed agent’s tone made his words heavier, like there was a more profound meaning behind them than he was letting on. You swallowed hard, gaze dropping to the ground.

The first chink in your carefully curated mask showed as a flicker of something flashed behind your eyes. The short-haired agent leaned forward, the movement catching your attention. You looked up, and you’re sure that if circumstances were different, you could’ve gotten lost in the agent’s green eyes.

“Sweetheart, please. We want to catch this guy and keep him from killing anyone else.” His voice was soft and sounded more genuine than the other officers who had questioned you the day before, and somehow, the ‘sweetheart’ nickname didn’t grate on you coming from him. Maybe it was the way his voice rolled over you. Or maybe it was because he had a pretty face.

“I didn’t do this,” you said quietly.

“I know you didn’t.”

“I feel like I’m going crazy or I’m being vain or something.” You maintained your eye contact with him as though it would make him believe you. “I knew them. All of them. Not well, mind you. Some more than others.” The crack in your mask splintered further. “I know how this looks, but I swear I didn’t have anything to do with it. I know you don’t believe me, but I promise on everything that matters to me.” Your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut, the familiar feeling of stinging tears behind your eyelids. The sound of fabric rustling drew your attention, and when you opened your eyes, the agent who called you ‘sweetheart’ was standing beside you, a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You leaned into the touch slightly. He was warm, and the touch was comforting.

“Don’t worry. You can tell us anything. We’ll get him,” he said.

They didn’t get much more information out of you. Your inability to give them a solid description of the guy you saw outside of the restaurant was a real damper on their investigation. However, Dean had left a card with his name and number with you on the off chance you remembered anything else. With a heavy sigh, Dean set the duffel bag he was holding onto the motel bed, running a hand through his hair. Sam was seated at the small table in the room, typing away on his laptop.

“What do you think, Sammy? Still dealing with a vamp?” The two had done away with the stiff suits, and Dean was happier back in his t-shirt and denim.

“I mean, every report I find talks about the bodies being exsanguinated. I don’t know many other creatures that would do that.” Sam turned his computer, letting Dean look over the documents they had gotten from the local police.

“What about a chupacabra?” Dean suggested.

“Everything I can find about those says they go for livestock rather than humans. Vamps fit the bill the best.”

“Yeah, but… the thing that I can’t figure out is ‘why her’? She said she spent time with each of them the same day they were attacked. Vamps don’t usually have a pattern that centers around one person,” Dean said, leaning over to skim the computer screen.

“Maybe it’s a vengeful spirit that’s latched onto her?”

“That would explain the victims’ connection to her but not the blood loss. Unless it has something to do with how the spirit died. But even then, there’s no report of the crime scenes being particularly bloody.” Sam leaned back in his seat as Dean spoke, drumming his fingers on the table.

“And we’re positive she’s not a part of all of this? She said she didn’t tell the police about her connections with the first vic because she didn’t want eyes on her. That’s not something that someone innocent says,” Sam asked while taking his laptop back and scrolling through the reports again, as if some new detail would stand out to him.

You had said that you knew all the victims, but the extent of which varied greatly. The first one was an old friend of your parents who you didn’t interact with much, but the one time you did, he was attacked. Victim two was a coworker in a different department who was attacked after a lunch meeting with you. Number three was a taxi driver who had driven you home after a late night at the office, and number four was someone you had met at a bar and shared a drink or two with. Ultimately, though, you hadn’t ended up going home with him. And the most recent one had been your best friend, one you had just hung out with the night of the attack. You weren’t wrong. It was extremely suspicious that you had a connection to all of them, no matter how insignificant it seemed. You had never mentioned your connection to the first victim, and the next three had far stronger connections with others that the police never really glanced your way. Number five was the first time they had looked closely at you, but without the knowledge of your link to any of the others, nothing looked suspicious to them.

The Winchesters weren’t buying it.

They spent the better part of the day doing as much digging into the cases as they could, even managing to schmooze their way into the morgue to see the body. As the medical examiner pulled back the sheet to reveal the body, both Dean and Sam’s gazes locked onto the very obvious bite mark on the victim’s neck.

“Kinda gruesome, isn’t it?” the medical examiner asked. He was a younger kid, probably in his mid twenties, if they had to guess.

“You can say that again,” Dean mumbled, slowly looking up and down the body.

“All the victims have the same kind of wound on them?” Sam asked, motioning to his own neck. The examiner nodded.

“Unfortunately so. I try not to jump to conclusions, but I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors of these being ritual killings. Hard not to assume the worst when everything’s pointing in the same direction. Have you guys seen anything like this before?”

“Not exactly like this,” Dean said, shaking his head.

Everything pointed to a cut and dry vamp nest except for the way they were targeting victims. Why you? More specifically, why those around you but not you directly? Maybe one of the vamps had a vendetta? That would’ve only made partial sense. Only two of the victims seemed to have a more profound connection to you – the neighbor and the best friend. They spent the drive back to the hotel running through every possibility. The sun was sinking behind the hills by the time Dean got out of the shower and dressed.

“There has to be something we’re missing,” he said as he took a seat on the bed.He grabbed the jar of Dead Man’s Blood from the duffel bag he had shoved beneath the bed and spun it in his hands, his leg bouncing. They had exhausted just about every avenue including variations of vampires in different myths and lore across the world. Nothing was fitting the bill.

“We can always go back and ask her more questions tomorrow,” Sam offered.

“Yeah but what do we even ask? She already said she has no idea why anyone or anything would target her. And I know lying isn’t completely out of the realm of possibility, but it just seems... unlikely. Our last option is that she’s in on it, and something’s telling me that’s not the case.”

“You sure you’re thinking with the right head about that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh please, do you think I’m blind?” Sam scoffed, a light smile playing on his lips. “You’re a sucker for those big, doe ‘help me’ eyes.”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, “She’s a pretty girl in a shitty situation.” The jar of blood was still in his hand, the liquid sloshing around as he tilted it back and forth. Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah, and you’re gonna swoop in, save the day, get the girl, and ride off into the sunset.” Dean flashed him his signature boyish grin, the kind of grin that Sam knew was going to get them into trouble sooner rather than later. “Look, just keep it in your pants until we figure this out, yeah?” He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair. Maybe if they looked more into your connection with the victims, something else would show up.

Dean’s phone went off in his pocket, and he set the jar down on the bedside table before fishing it out of his pocket. He tilted his head to the side slightly as he looked at the number. He didn’t recognize it.

“Hello?” He asked, hitting the speaker button.

“Dean?” your voice crackled over the phone’s crappy speakers. You sounded scared. Dean was on his feet, grabbing the Impala’s keys from his other pocket as you spoke. “I think I’m being followed.”

“Where are you at, sweetheart? We’re on our way.” You rattled off a cross street then for good measure, gave a landmark for reference. “Stay around other people, anywhere with lots of foot traffic.” There was no response.

The part of town you had directed them to was the opposite of what Dean had advised. It was a commercial area some distance away from the downtown shopping district several blocks over. What in the world were you doing out this late with all the recent incidents? You had better not have been trying to solve this yourself. Dean had parked, and the two of them armed themselves for a fight. On second thought, maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you had been out of the way of others. There was no one to judge them as they briskly moved down the sidewalk, checking down the alleys between the buildings. The sound of a scuffle and a pained cry from the next building up caught their ears, and the two of them hoofed it.

The boys turned the corner just in time to watch the vampire sink his teeth into you. The scream in your throat died to a soft whimper, hands uselessly grabbing at the vampire’s arms as it held you against the brick wall. Dean was the first to respond, firing off a bullet soaked in Dead Man’s Blood before Sam even had a chance to aim. It took two more shots before the vampire finally relented, dropping you to the ground, fangs still holding a chunk of your flesh it ripped from you. It clutched at its side where the bullets had sunken in before turning and booking it around the corner. Dean and Sam shared a knowing glance before Dean chased after it. Sam tucked his own gun into the waistband of his pants and knelt down beside you, worry and concern and anger etched into his features. Your eyes had slid closed, and your own blood soaked your shirt, oozing from the open wound in your neck. Sam gingerly eased you so you were sitting up rather than lying in a crumpled heap on the cold ground. He winced, quickly finding your wrist to check for a pulse. Even with his expectations on the ground, Sam was still disappointed when he didn’t feel anything.

“Shit... I’m sorry,” he breathed, brushing stray hair from your face. “I’m sorry we weren’t quick enough.” He stood up, pulled out his own gun, and chased after Dean, mentally promising that he’d make it up to you by killing this son of a bitch.

“I’m telling you, Sam, it was weird. It was like the Dead Man’s Blood had no effect. No lethargy, no weakening of his abilities, nothing. We saw his teeth. If that thing ain’t a vamp, then I’m the queen of England.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Maybe it’s because we caught him mid-feed? Maybe the fresh and dead blood cancel each other out in a way?”

“I dunno. But if there’s one, there’s bound to be a nest of them. And we’re gonna need a lot more blood than what we have on hand. Which alley did you leave the vic down?”

“Seriously, Dean?” Sam stopped abruptly, grabbing Dean’s shoulder and staring hard at him. Dean ran a hand over his face and pressed his lips together in a tight line.

“Look, it’s better to do it before the body’s locked behind yellow tape. We need every advantage we can get, and we might as well make her death worth something. Plus, she gets revenge on her killer. It’s a win-win situation.” Sam sighed and shook his head, letting his hand fall away from Dean.

“I hate it when you make sense,” he grumbled, turning the corner. The two of them stopped dead in their tracks.

“Sam...” Dean began slowly, “where’s the body?” Sam gaped at the empty alleyway. For a moment, he thought maybe he had made a wrong turn, but he recognized the dumpster with the mattress sticking out of it.

“That is a great question...”

---

Thank you for reading, please feel free to leave a like, comment, or reblog! I would be forever grateful! 💜💜💜 Drop a comment, ask away, or add yourself to my taglist!

Part 2

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural x reader #reader insert #X reader #jensen ackles characters #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic series #canon typical violence #jsensen ackles #Chasing Shadows

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dominos-pizza-squad · 1 year ago

Text

"You're going to have to."

I don't usually write meta on account of doing my best to avoid Fandom Drama like the plague and even a hint of Star Wars meta is like a siren call to Drama but. I have Thoughts about this scene and now I'm going to share them and if you're here for anti-Mace Windu thoughts this is not the post for you my friend.

Every time I see meta or reference to this scene it's used as more 'proof' that Windu was totally the worst and we shouldn't feel at all bad about him being maimed and thrown to his death which sure is a take, and on the surface I can understand why. When you don't bother to look more into that scene it does come off as Windu being a rude bitch to a child whose dad died in front of him, which is pretty uncool.

But this is a meta post and I am here to look more into this scene. I want to start with the concept of forgiveness, because when I go, I go big. I feel like a lot of the antipathy toward this scene (and by extension toward Windu) come from the fact that again, on a surface-level reading, it looks like Windu is demanding Boba's forgiveness for Jango's death, when we all know that's not how that works. That is, in fact, a concept that to most of us is viscerally offensive- our knee-jerk reaction is something more along the lines of "screw you i resent you more now" than it is "well okay that seems reasonable". Because you can't just demand somebody's forgiveness and expect it to happen. All that is is another wrong against the person you've already wronged. It's pure conceitedness and self-interest.

It's also not what Windu was trying to say to Boba in that scene. Not even remotely, in my opinion, and I'll explain why.

Think about the way the Jedi teach, particularly the way they teach philosophical concepts- they don't simply tell their students what to think, they tell them something and then make them think about themselves. Jedi are always expected to look deeper into a lesson to see what they can get out of it, this is the way Windu's lived his whole life, of course this is the way he speaks to Boba even though Boba's not a Jedi.

It's not exactly a hot take to say that Mace Windu and Boba Fett have very different ways of approaching the world. This is important to remember, though, because it guides the way that Windu interacts with Boba in this scene. When Boba swears he's never going to forgive him, Windu looks him in the eye and says, "Well, you're going to have to." And when he says that he's not saying that as some kind of ultimatum, he's saying that as a statement of fact.

What Windu is really saying to Boba in this scene isn't "forgive me 'cuz i said so". What he's saying is "your father cannot come back, and you will have to find a way to live with that so it doesn't consume you". Because what was Boba saying when he said "I'll never forgive you"? It wasn't just "I hate you", it was "I hate you, and I hate you so much that I don't care who I destroy in the process of destroying you". Sure, he expresses regret for all of the actual human beings that died because of his actions, but he follows it up with an utter refusal to acknowledge that those actions were wrong. What he was saying was "I hate you, and I hate you so much that I don't care who I destroy in the process of destroying you, even if it's myself."

Boba has done some genuinely horrible things by this point. He's put other children's lives at risk. He's crashed a star destroyer and killed who knows how many people. Maybe he didn't shoot the injured clones himself when they went in and took their hostages, but they wouldn't have died there if it weren't for him. He is directly responsible for the death of a man whose only crime was walking through the wrong door at the wrong time. He has charged headfirst down a path of death and destruction that will spread misery everywhere he goes.

And now Windu- who has just lost all of these men, lost Ponds, nearly lost his own life to Boba's actions- is looking down at this twelve-year-old boy, and he doesn't want this for him. He so badly doesn't want this for him, but he cannot make Boba's choices. All he can do is try and tell him "this path you're on is not worth it".

Because that, in my opinion, is what he means when he says "You're going to have to." He's not saying that he's entitled to anything from Boba (because he might have killed Jango in self-defense, but his motives and intentions don't change the fact that his actions hurt Boba), he's saying that Boba has to let go of that hatred before it ruins his life.

Which is exactly what it does! What happens to Boba in the end? He continues alone down his path of hate and misery, until he gets eaten by a sarlacc and enslaved by Tuskens. He had so little, and he loses even that. And it's no one's fault but his own.

But.

But. Finally, so many years after he started down that path, he does what Windu said. Finally, he lets that anger go. Finally, he gets to become what he could have been if he hadn't let himself be consumed by his rage. And that's why I liked The Book of Boba Fett, despite its flaws, because we get to see that change. After forty-odd years of strife, Boba finally gets to be a man at peace. And that's exactly what I think Windu would have wanted.

#i drank four mai tais and stayed up til 2 am and these are the thoughts that came out #pro jedi #in defense of the jedi #my star wars opinions #star wars #star wars prequels #the clone wars #star wars meta #mace windu #boba fett #long post

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