#and there a reference to someones character

[requinoesis]

After noticing patterns over the years, I created this list with 13 points to score the level of stereotypes about sharks present in a work. I believe that most of these stereotypes have their main origin in the film Jaws (1975).

With the scarcity of works that explore other creative approaches to sharks, beyond the “man-eating ” narrative, Jaws ended up consolidating itself as the greatest source of inspiration and creative reference for many productions to this day. This was called “The Jaws Effect”. 🩸🦈

I've noticed that certain patterns in the creative world repeat themselves to the point of being tedious, which bothers me. Not because they're bad, but because in many cases they're harmful. With these points, I hope to show sharks in a new light.

🩸1 - Great White Shark Popularized by the Jaws movie, the Great white shark has become the dominant archetype in the representation of sharks in fiction. Often, works choose to use this shark or a generic gray version of imprecise anatomy, with no defined species. However, there are over 400 species of shark, and very few are explored creatively.

🩸2 - Man-eater The persistent idea that sharks have humans as a natural part of their diet is one of the most widespread stereotypes. Although there are reports of incidents, most attacks are isolated and often by mistake. Any animal, including humans, could turn to unexpected sources of food in a situation of desperation or starvation.

🩸3 - Forced Behavior It's common to see sharks portrayed with distorted or exaggerated behaviors that don't match their nature just to cause tension, such as:

Hunting small fish, ignoring the fact that sharks avoid expending energy on low-energy prey.

Abandoning easy prey just to arbitrarily chase the protagonist.

Going crazy at the smell of blood.

Showing a wild and constant hunger.

Obsessively pursuing a single prey.

Making aggressive shark species known for being peaceful or timid.

Attacking and destroying objects, structures or vessels with disproportionate fury just to reach someone.

🩸4 - Monstrous appearance It's common to see sharks' appearance exaggerated to intensify visual fear, making them look like monsters rather than real animals:

A gaping mouth, with huge, crooked teeth that are constantly stained with blood.

Menacing, demonic red, black empty and soulless eyes.

Body covered in grotesque scars, exposed wounds and even weapons embedded in the skin.

A disproportionate figure, with pointed shapes, a swollen or deformed body.

Bizarre mutations that completely alter their anatomy.

Technological modifications to make them more weapon-like, emphasizing the idea of the "Killing Machine".

🩸5 - Shark de-characterization Especially in children's works, in order to be accepted by the public or the other characters in the plot, the shark is often forced to change its identity. It is transformed into a “domesticated” version, such as:

Becoming a vegetarian or a toothless shark, losing its ecological role as a predator.

Taking on exaggeratedly “funny” behavior, becoming a caricature.

Having its behavior and appearance altered to look more like a dolphin or other friendly shape, excluding striking features such as prominent fins, visible gills or a fusiform snout.

Choose to portray a specific species of shark because it seems more “friendly” to the public, such as the whale shark.

🩸6 - Limited Nature The representation of sharks in fiction is usually limited to sensationalist aspects, such as the power of their bite, the old phrase that they "smell a drop of blood in 2 million liters of water", or things like "killers from the womb".

However, sharks have some very interesting characteristics that are little explored creatively:

Acute hearing, capable of picking up sounds more than a kilometer away in the ocean.

Their electroreception, which allows them to perceive tiny electrical impulses emitted by living prey and even sense the electromagnetic field around them.

Possible link between their migrations and the lunar phases.

Incredible healing capacity and immune resistance.

Skin made up of denticles made of the same material as our teeth.

They constantly change their teeth.

Longevity and they never stop growing.

Many fish such as rémoras and pilot fish depend on and live alongside sharks.

Sensitive to pressure changes and can even predict hurricanes and tropical storms.

🩸7 - Red Presence Striking presence of red, either with the presence of blood or the color present in the design. This emphasis on red reinforces the shark's direct association with violence, danger and death, contributing to the construction of the “bloodthirsty monster” stereotype.

🩸8 - Dark Music It is common for sharks to be associated with tense, dark and threatening soundtracks whenever they appear on the scene. More often than not, I notice that when sharks are mentioned in song lyrics, it is to express some sort of comparison to some negative stereotype.

🩸9 - Threatening setting Scenarios with sharks are almost always represented in a gloomy, dark, desaturated way, empty of marine life. The environment is treated as a dangerous place by nature, shipwrecks, dark caves, areas full of garbage, explosive mines or the inhospitable depths of the sea

🩸10 - Masculinization The theme involving sharks has always been very masculine. Shark characters are rarely female, while the human characters who interact with these animals, scientists, hunters, divers or specialists, are almost always white men. Women and minorities almost never occupy central or specialized roles in these narratives.

🩸11 - Villainization Sharks are often portrayed as villains by default, carrying negative and caricatured stereotypes, for example:

Gangster or mobster

Aggressor or school bully

Criminal or loan shark

Brutish idiot or dumb henchman

Corrupt politician or authoritarian fascist figure

Indomitable monster or irrational beast

Recurring enemy, obstacle or final boss in video games

🩸12 - Objectification Sharks are often treated as mere resources or utilitarian objects in fiction. They are represented as trophies, rewards, collectibles or consumables, as if they existed only to be hunted, exhibited or eaten.

This objectification also appears in the constant presence of jaws decorating environments, teeth used as accessories, fins amputated as an ingredient, and in the display of the animal's body in a morbid way: corpses exposed, dead body hung and displayed as a trophy in harbor, parts dissected or being devoured by other creatures.

🩸13 - Death As if it weren't enough to have become a symbol of death incarnate, even in animations aimed at children, sharks almost always have the same fate: death. What's worse, their death is usually celebrated as a relief or a victory.

Impaled, butchered, set on fire, crushed, blown up, fished out or killed by another "heroic" creature, tossed about by hurricanes… In many cases, these scenes are treated with humor or graphic exaggeration, turning the destruction of the shark into a spectacle.

---

I was unsure about publishing this list as it is just personal observations from someone who loves sharks. A few people asked me for this list and said it would be worth posting, don't take it too seriously.

These stereotypes are not necessarily bad or invalid, after all, we are talking about works of fantasy and fiction. However, they could be resignified through new creative ideas that arouse feelings other than fear and terror.

Although many people's passion for sharks arose precisely from movies like Jaws and the stereotypes it popularized, it's important to remember that these same elements have been repeated almost unchanged for decades. This exhaustive repetition was largely because it was profitable, turning sharks into yet another victim of entertainment capitalism. Over time, this type of representation ended up distancing ordinary people from the reality of these animals, reinforcing fear rather than curiosity. Nowadays things are a little better, but not better enough.

The reality of sharks goes far beyond that. They are mysterious and fascinating animals, older than the first trees or dinosaurs. They have survived five mass extinctions, incredibly adapted from the abyssal depths to mangroves and freshwater rivers. They have unique senses and behaviors that are still shrouded in mystery, as well as a biology so singular that it inspires advances in science and technology. For many ancient cultures, sharks are revered as true gods of ocean balance.

I dare say that by looking after the health of the seas for millions of years, sharks made it possible for our own species to emerge from the depths of the primordial ocean. They are, in a way, guardians of our cradle of origin. And so we owe them a great deal of respect and preserve them at all costs.

To date, no creative work has managed to surpass “Jaws”. Who will be creative enough to create a new work and transform the collective imaginary of sharks from fear to fascination? 🦈✨

[lara635kookie]

That face economy hasn't declined a day in more than 400 years, love that for him

[front-facing-pokemon]

[drama-glob]

So, if you let the AIs run around for an extended period of time, I'm guessing...

it creates someone like this guy? O_O (The subtitles say sinister music is playing when they zoom in, so this NPC is likely part of the storm Gooseworx is referring to with the other part probably being the tension between Ragatha, Jax and Pomni along with Caine glitching :/).

I'm guessing this is going back to episode 2 when Caine brought up how important it is that he doesn't get confused which one is a human and which is an NPC, meaning that Caine may have done open worlds before and the NPC got so intelligent that Caine either mixed this NPC with a human and deleted the human/put it in asset inventory/etc. or the NPC can violate Caine's programing at that point and do pretty much whatever it wants. O_O

*The fact this character has appeared in other episodes is certainly creepy. O_O

[packleaderbriggan]

Edwin Payne Really Fucking Cares: A Short Essay

Was re-watching ep 1 and something stood out to me like never before:

Edwin Payne cares. Like, he cares *so deeply*. He tries his very best to remain calm, cold, and collected, but there are moments where truly visceral emotions slip through the cracks in his facade.

(Please excuse the obvious, distracting play button in the middle of the pics; there's only so much I can do with my pirating app 😂)

But this- this is just as he catches his first glimpse of Becky Aspen, under the piles of discarded clothes and bones. You can see the way his heart drops, how affected he is at the prospect of finding this little girl's corpse.

This is as he starts trying to unbury her. He is so viscerally distraught- just LOOK at that face. He is terrified that they were too late to save her. Terrified that he didn't do enough. Terrified that he has failed to save an innocent life.

While he's listening for her heartbeat, you can just see how desperately he is begging for her to still be alive. Look at him!! That is a boy that is fucking *scared*. He is so worried about Becky, and he doesn't even know her! All he knows is that she is innocent, and all he can do is pray that he is not the reason she is dead.

And this? This is when he's screaming at Charles, telling him that Becky is here, that she is alive, that they were not too late. Look at his eyes. Look at his brows. That is the face of someone who is desperate - to save her, to keep her safe, to get her away from the imminent threat of Esther Finch.

As if that wasn't enough to think about, there's a little voice in my head that is telling me something else: while he's down in that snake pit, Edwin is not truly seeing Becky Aspen as just another case. He's seeing himself.

Think about it. He's surrounded by heaps and heaps of bones, torn clothing, the memories of lives so cruelly and unfairly snuffed out.

He looks at her, covered in the disjointed remnants of death, and he sees himself back in the dollhouse. He sees himself being torn apart by the spider demon, covered in his own blood and guts, the terrible reminders of the inevitability of his pain.

It is in these brief moments where his facade falls that we can see Edwin's actual motivation: he is looking at Becky, but he can only see himself. Edwin Payne is a good person, but I don't think he was thinking rationally right here. He was thinking through the lens of his own trauma.

He wants to save Becky, not out of a conscious desire to do good, but a base, instinctual need to protect her in the same way he never was. He is doing this for her because no one ever did it for him.

After Charles pulls him out of the void, we can see that Edwin is well and truly shaken. It even takes him a good minute (and Charles' help) to get back on his feet! He blames it on the snake, but I wonder how much of that was to save face and keep Charles from asking questions.

Edwin doesn't like to talk about Hell, and for good reason, but he cannot hide the fact that he was rattled by what he saw down there. He knows that Charles knows him well enough to clock that immediately, so he brushes it off with the reference to " ... a very large snake."

Idk I'm just rambling at this point. But there's something so incredibly *real* in his expressions during this scene. For a few brief moments, we see him display emotions that very painfully parallel ep 7, where we once again see him acting through the lense of deeply ingrained trauma.

Just. Mhhhh 🤌 Chef's kiss, and hats off to George for playing such a real character 👏

[momosweetpeach]

This is in no way me trying to be like rude or hateful, so if it comes off that way I apologize.

Like I kinda understand the CoraLaw ship, I also like don't? For some reason my brain just views it as like almost grooming??? Idk, would it be possible for you to please further explain your view on the ship? Obviously you are under no obligation to do so, and it's fair of you think you shouldn't have to explain your thoughts on it. I am moreso just curious.

Regardless I absolutely adore your art, especially how you draw Penguin and Shachi.

This isn't rude at all, this is actually quite polite and civil! And also-

I shall go in depth below since it'll be a lot.

First and foremost, a lot of people seem to have a totally bastardized idea of what "grooming" actually even IS nowadays. It gets tossed around so much that people forget that the main trait is INTENTIONALITY. It is an INTENTIONAL process of manipulation and abuse for selfish reasons (similar to gaslighting). It is very hard to "accidentally" groom someone. You can give them the wrong idea, maybe, but that's not grooming. It originally means to basically prep and train up someone for a specific role later in life. Doflamingo uses this meaning of the term when talking about wanting to train Law up to become his righthand man.

Cora-san's character is LITERALLY DEFINED by his selflessness and sacrifices he makes to save Law's life. He doesn't expect anything in return. He acts on a sense of duty and then empathy. He suffers greatly in attempts to allow Law to survive and live freely, out from under the thumb of his brother.

Speaking of Doflamingo real quick, for some reason I feel like I see the ship of DofLaw get a lot less hate than CoraLaw despite the fact that they're in similar positions. Usually, because people have the headcanon of DadCora even though Law never views or refers to Cora as a father figure in any canon or spinoff material. If you have that headcanon, fine, whatever, but you have to remember that canonically, Law and Cora do not see their relationship as familial. That's part of the weight in the scene that Law has with Sengoku after Dressrosa. "Don't look for a reason for somebody's love."

Law didn't have to be family or important or anything for Cora to love him. He just did, if anything, from a sense of deepseated empathy and understanding of the pain that Law was going through.

Now- the actual shipping part of it.

It is also extremely difficult to groom someone if you are GONE FOR 13 YEARS.

The most commonly depicted manner of CoraLaw as a ship is Cora returning after 13 years, whether he secretly survived Minion Island, has been a ghost, was resurrected- whatever it may be, there is the gap of Cora being gone and assumed dead for over a decade. That is a LONG TIME to be separated from a person, and by the time you reunite, things will have changed, ESPECIALLY LAW. He is NOT the same person he was at age 13 anymore, obviously. He is a fullass grown adult at age 26 in the current canon. He has become an entirely new person with new strengths, confidence, and outlook on things.

Another important part of the ship to me...is that it is most often LAW who is pursuing CORA, not the other way around. LAW is the one who has spent all this time devoted to avenging Cora and being basically obsessed with honoring his memory and repaying the sacrifices that Cora made to him. The devotion is met in equal measures in that sense.

Their relationship as adults, 26 and either ALSO 26 or 39 (depending on if Cora is resurrected or has actually been alive this whole time) is them recognizing how things have changed and how their dynamic has now evolved into something totally different. Law isn't a kid that Cora can pick up like a football. He's an accomplished pirate captain. He was a warlord for a bit!!! He's an insanely powerful and scary guy tbh!!!

But Law still has a soft spot for Cora, still talks about him with an edge of kindness and love. Law would he terrified of admitting that he's perhaps developed feelings because of the fear of rejection from his most precious person, the one he owes everything to.

A lot of fics go with the mutual pining angle, both afraid of ruining what they have, despite the fact that things aren't the same as they were 13 years ago. It's an interesting space to explore and requires a lot of trust ans vulnerability on both ends-

No. It's not a conventional relationship by any means. I won't argue that. But that's why I like it, damnit. It's a fictional scenario that is largely impossible in our world, and it's a fun space to explore and to consider the depth of the affection they already have for one another, evolving into something different and new.

That's the main takeaway here tbh for me. It's FICTION. Literally no individuals are being hurt and it's not even ticking off any boxes of the usual Dead Dove sort of things so. Yeah

Jazz hands

[ellsbigshoes]

My Most Faithful Lover - 2. Hands that never forgot

pairing: Knight!ellie & Princess!reader

synopse: A harpist begins to dream of a life not her own — a white dress stained in red, a knight who watches her like someone who’s already lost her once. In waking life, a fencer’s touch feels too familiar. In dreams, silence speaks louder than memory. Between two timelines, something ancient stirs… and it remembers her.

content: MDNI 18+, eventual smut, fluff, angst, violence, war, use of “y/n”, reader is referred to as princess (sometimes), Ellie referred to as Elouise (sometimes), use of swords, daggers etc. gore(ish), blood, homophobia.

8.775 characters.

"loving me is going to haunt you for a lifetime." - ?

The pain came like a spear between the ribs, cold, sharp, and then warm like blood dripping in silence. You felt broken, like porcelain dropped from an ancient altar - piece by piece, without haste, without mercy. Your long white dress wrapped in pearls, glitter and lace was now stained with blood, as much as your hands, perhaps that was your blood, perhaps that explained your great pain. Faster than a clap of thunder, you wake up shaking as your alarm clock calls you to yet another rehearsal in preparation for the end-of-year performance. It was strange, after meeting Ellie, the fencer who admired you in silence, your dreams were more real, more lived. So real that you could feel their caressing touch as if they were satin threads.

It was the start of a new week, and everything seemed to be running out of sync - hurried footsteps, overlapping voices, duties running over each other. Inside the room, time flowed differently: there, every note was a wait, every silence a judgment. At first, it was hard to keep up. Their colleagues played like someone repeating a forgotten prayer - their fingers were precise, yes, even impeccable, but their souls were blind. They lacked love, or perhaps remembrance.

You, on the other hand, were born with the sound of the harp inside you. It wasn't an instrument, it was an extension - strings that vibrate like part of your own breath. From an early age, you felt that your fingers knew the way before you even thought. But now, surrounded by cold eyes and rigid postures, their connection seemed... out of place. While they strummed away like automatons, you felt each note as if your soul were being called by name. And that, paradoxically, made you seem strange.

Sometimes looking at yourself was like seeing the twenty-second major arcana - The Madman. - The madman, the fool, the joker. A card that calls you to take risks and follow your own path. This card teaches us to embrace uncertainty and have faith in our abilities. And you? oh dear... despite being so disturbed by those who play like robots, you play like The Fool; with confidence in your abilities, you become someone else, it's as if something inside you calls to you in the shuddering of the strings, with each resounding chord it's like sinking quietly, letting the water consume your lungs.

One of your greatest prides is that you can play the Moonlight Sonata 3rd movement. No one imagines that you keep such cunning at your fingertips, and that's not even the best part about you. okay, I admit, it's not that easy to be that confident every day, but you know how hard you work, and you know that you're a natural.

As you rehearsed again, this time with the room full, you found yourself remembering the girl you met that afternoon with the heartwarming rays of sunshine. Could she really be the girl you've been dreaming of since childhood? nothing seems to make sense anymore... does she know? why did she ask if you already knew each other? so little time to talk and so many questions at the same time.

Even so, you answered at that moment: oh... I don't think so. – You said it and smiled a little, awkwardly.

Ellie then giggled a little. – I'm sorry, it must have sounded strange, right? you just have something familiar about you, but I don't think I've met you anywhere. I'd remember you.

You didn't know how to describe this feeling, nothing but confusion, and at this moment it would be best to just forget, even if it hurts, because something in your heart is calling out, wanting to push you towards her.

The sun was barely touching the stones of the inner courtyard when the iron gates opened. The morning was cold and still, as if time were breathing more slowly within the walls. A faint scent of dried lavender came from the gardens still wet with dew - and in the center of the silent dawn, she arrived.

She was riding a horse as black as burnt wine, the reins tight, the posture too straight for someone so unaccustomed to resting from overexertion. You wore the mantle of the queen's guards, but something about your presence seemed out of place - like a page sewn out of order in an old book. You were sitting among the blooming castle roses. Large buds of a striking blood-red color, although you had always loved white, the tragic and intense red had always attracted you. The queen's voice broke the silence, clear, firm as ever:

– This is Elouise. Your new guardian.

You, the princess, slowly raised your gaze, meeting that of the knight. Ellie dismounted with almost ritual precision, bowing her head in greeting.

– Your Highness.

Her voice was low, husky like a forgotten ember - and it hid something. Something the princess couldn't immediately decipher, but which remained there, in the air between them, like golden dust suspended in light.

The queen continued, already walking away:

– She was trained in the Cern Hills, under the order of the White Shields. She's discreet, efficient. And she will be shadow and blade by your side, until you need one.

Elouise didn't raise her eyes until the queen had disappeared behind the columns. Only then did she look at the princess fully. It wasn't the look of a servant. Nor that of an equal. It was the look of someone who knows the end of a story even before the first chapter.

You, still sitting among the roses, noticed that the dew had embroidered your dress with tiny sparkles. You tried to ignore the weight of Elouise's gaze on you - it wasn't the kind of gaze you offered. It was the kind you kept. And that, somehow, was even more dangerous.

– “The Cern Hills,” you repeated, without emotion. I imagine that silence is part of the training.

Elouise didn't respond immediately. Instead, she watched a red petal fall to the ground, as if the flower itself had surrendered to the weight of what hung in the air.

– Silence is sometimes more useful than a sword.

The answer came calmly, but there was a thread of... something. Old resentment? Tiredness? Guilt? You couldn't tell.

– What do you prefer? – you asked, looking straight at her. – The sword, or silence?

Ellie hesitated. And in that brief instant, you noticed a crack. Almost nothing. But real.

– I prefer what doesn't require me to choose.

You arched an eyebrow.

– A convenient answer.

– An honest answer.

The wind blew again, and the red roses fluttered. One fell near Elouise's foot. Without thinking, she crouched down and picked it up. She held it out to you with a short gesture, as if returning a piece of scenery was her obligation.

– It looks more like your kingdom than mine.

You took the flower slowly, your fingers brushing against hers for a second - just a second, but enough to feel something strange. Like a shiver coming from inside.

– Red has always been an ungrateful color," you said, staring at the rose. – Blood or passion. You never know for sure.

Ellie didn't answer. But she didn't look away from you.

You thought about asking her what she saw there - in your skin, your face, your eyes - that made her look so... cautious. But you didn't. Not yet.

The sun was already falling behind the mountains when you took refuge in the old hall, the one no one had used since your aunt's bereavement. Inside, the walls still smelled of wax and aged wood. The harp stood quietly in the corner. Like a secret waiting to be awakened.

You sat in front of it as you had done since you were a child, your fingers already knowing the ways, even if your mind was elsewhere. You played without thinking. And perhaps that's why you played better. The notes floated through the air like a veil, light, sad, almost transparent.

Then, without you noticing, someone stopped at the door.

Elouise.

She stood there, leaning against the dark wood, arms crossed, no armor. Just shadows wearing shadows.

You didn't stop ringing. But you spoke, without looking:

– Are you going to escort me even when there's no danger?

The answer took a while, but it came.

– That sounds more dangerous than most battles.

You laughed, softly. Still without turning.

– Harps don't kill.

– No. But they remind you.

Now you've turned. Her eyes were fixed on your fingers, as if each note that came out of the harp opened a door that she herself had locked from the inside. A distant glow inhabited her gaze. Of someone who recognizes something - but doesn't know why.

– Do you know this song? – you asked suddenly.

Elouise hesitated. For a moment, she seemed to swallow her memory.

– Yes, Your Highness. I used to listen to it when I was little, I remember my mother dancing and celebrating happily... – She said looking down with a small smile and sighed. - Anyway, it doesn't matter.

She said and resumed her serious face. – I think it's about time to go to sleep, isn't it?

ㅤ𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 | 𝔫𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔭𝔞𝔤𝔢..

man i'm really sad that today i couldn't add color to the fonts, for some reason the site started crashing and i don't know how to solve it sorry guys

tags;; @sewithinsouls @valeisaslut @zzelysian @liztreez @oneinameliann @idioticconfusedteen @smaugayra @500daysofpoppy @elliescoquettegirl

(comment if you want to be in the taglist <3)

[flightyalrighty]

I've been a (joking) "Ivan has never done anything wrong ever free him" fan but this week's page made me feel sick, but like in a good way. Like when Ivan killed Drago at least you can see the shock and fear in his eyes when he's realized what he's done. And yes it's gory and shocking but it's also almost absurd?

But this page just showcases the type of person Ivan is. He's so incredibly selfish and self-centered that he's willing to kill Sonic, a child, to get his way. And the way he does it is so brutal, smashing his head against the tree. Throwing the safe at least felt...idk, impersonal if that makes sense? I really like the size difference between them too. I know it's because of their difference in species but it also makes Sonic look that much younger and more vulnerable than him.

(Also I love that Ivan grabbed Sonic by his face instead of the back of the head since Sonic can rip through metal if he tenses his quills. It also makes the head smashing feel impersonal in a different way since Ivan can't see Sonic's face)

I also like how Ivan's selfishness is shown but almost kind of hidden since he was mostly interacting with unlikable people. Like yes the ringmaster was rude but he makes the point that Ivan has been late repeatedly. I noticed Ivan got annoyed when he referred to him as Ivan instead of Magnus backstage not in from of the crowd which... yeah? Who refers to someone by their character or stage name when they're not performing? That would've been the last straw for me too. Ivan demands respect he's not willing to give to others.

Sorry for all the droning but I just love this comic so much!

(Context: This was sent on June 6th)

YOU were picking up what I was putting down! I had no idea how to answer this in a way that would feel like a proper response, however! Which is why it took so long! Sorry about that!

Anyway, gold star for you.

⭐️

[solarstranger]

Hello! Bakugo anon back!

Omg I've got SO many ideas. My brain is just always turning and cooking him like a rotisserie chicken

One that's had me giggling here recently is crush Bakugo. I love when he's yearning and pining for us, you know?

Just him finding out you've got the hots for a fictional character, hearing you refer to them as your husband lmao. Would he get jealous? (He wants to be your husband...)

- 🍡

nonie!!!! the rotisserie chicken imagery is a stroke of genius because honestly, same. 😭 i ended up writing a little something based on your ask, although i kind of made the fictional character come from a game with a certain storyline. anyway, he's still pining in this, so i hope you enjoy it!

c.w. pining bakugou. the bakusquad makes a comeback. secondhand embarrassment lmfao.

navigation. (you are here), part 2

bakugou stiffens.

sure, he doesn’t have the world’s best hearing—he has his loud ass quirk to thank for that—but surely you didn’t just refer to someone as your husband?

across the table from him, mina barks out a laugh, punching you by the arm, to which you react by sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck.

…almost like she was teasing you about a special someone.

shit.

before he knows it, the words are out of his mouth.

“what husband?”

at his sudden interruption, the booth falls silent, the chattering kaminari and sero beside him pausing to glance in his direction, just as you two and kirishima’s gazes drift towards him.

suddenly aware of the attention he just voluntarily drew to himself, bakugou flames.

still, he needed to know.

“you said something about a husband,” he clears his throat, staring at you and only you, although he can sense everyone else staring at him.

“uh, yeah,” you answer, eyeing the rest unsurely. “mina was asking me about it.”

a beat.

“i thought you were single,” bakugou finds himself croaking—voice cracking embarrassingly midway—despite himself. at his statement, your eyes widen in surprise, but before you can open your mouth to say something, mina’s already leaning in, partially obscuring his view of you.

“why?” mina smirks, the same way that always indicates trouble, “does hearing her talk about a husband bother you?”

“mina,” you chastise the acid hero, elbowing her this time, just as bakugou shoots her a warning look, one that she immediately catches, and the pink-haired girl nods, miming the act of zipping her lips closed, a gesture you thankfully don’t see—gaze downcast in what looks like embarrassment.

“i am,” you clarify, struggling to meet his eyes—evidently flustered. “i was just—uh—referring to a game i’m playing.”

“…where you have a husband,” bakugou finishes skeptically, brows furrowed in confusion.

somehow, that doesn’t make him feel any better.

“yeah,” you squawk, much to his chagrin. “it’s part of the storyline,” you explain.

to that, bakugou only nods stiffly—not knowing what else to say—and the conversation shifts to something else.

the minute he gets home, though, the topic’s back in an instant in the form of a gajillion text messages from a whopping four different people—namely: mina, kirishima, kaminari, and sero—all varied, but united by the same central message.

and it’s how the ash-blonde should change his hero name to ‘captain obvious’.

a/n. i'm currently playing story of seasons: pioneers of olive town so the whole thing about having a fictional husband can't be any truer lmfaoooo. i got married to ralph yesterday, in fact. definitely adds to the delusions but hey, as long as we're having fun?

[gosthgirlundici]

Okey I have just finished watching TADC last episode and I have a crazy theory about Jax's past that I need to get out of my mind. I don't know why but I have the sensation that he has been SA.

!!!TW TALKING ABOUT SA!!! PLEASE DON'T READ THIS IF YOU KNOW THAT COULD BE A TRAUMA TRIGGER FOR YOU!!!

I know if could sound crazy but bare with me.

In the last episode it is revealed that his mother was into hunting and his character design Is a bunny, so it could simbolize that she acted in a predatory way towards him. Plus he tries to eat Gangle after shooting her.

It is shown that he is afraid of Corn, wich I know that could be a joke about him acting similar to cats with cucumbers, but "corn" is also used online to talk about explicit content without being banned. He will obviously not feeling at ease with it around him.

It is shown how he feels bad about having to wear a made outfit, which many characters are drawing wearing in sexualizing art and material in general.

It is shown how he is so freaking scared that Cain can make him a vegan, or the fact that he doesn't have a tail anymore (even if I know that was probably just a joke related to fans drawing him with one by mistake), obviously because he probably underestimated the power that Cain has over them and how dangerous he is, but I also think that he could have felt disgusted by the fact that someone had again the power to do what they wanted with his body without his concent.

And last but not least, what got this theory in mind was the line Jax pronounce when they are stargazing "It feels like she is trying to take advantage of you, you know?" referring to Ragatha being always too gentle and caring toward everyone. It made me think that he feels like she has a second aim behind her perfect girl facade because someone in his past live bombed him to then take advantage of him in some kind of way and maybe that is an ulterior reason why he doesn't trusts Rags.

His way of acting mean and cruel toward evrybod could be related to the fact that he has trust issues because people got closer to him just to use him as they wanted.

Anyways this could also be just the product of my dumb, sleep deprived, brain, mixed with the fact that I watched this episode around 2 AM so please don't get angry at me because of it.

[romchat]

Hishakai Shindo visual analysis (Ep. 1-2): "Depth of field" metaphor

"Because the depth of field is pretty shallow. So this kind of blur actually becomes a unique feature."

I so appreciate how Hishakai Shindo’s cinematography plays with the show’s central metaphor of depth of field. In photography, depth of field refers to the size of the area in an image where objects still appear sharp, and the drama uses it to great effect as a way to visualize Hayakawa's suffocating emptiness and his growing but conflicted attraction to Konno.

Look at the way the show's camera uses shallow depth of field (DOF) to portray Hayakawa's isolation from the world around him:

Shallow DOF is where only one plane of an image (either the foreground, midground, or background) appears in focus while the rest doesn't. Within the images of his everyday life, Hayakawa is literally placed on a different plane than the people around him. He either feels ostracized because of his love for music or smothered by the carefree performance he punishes himself with. Either way, there's something very lonely (and even claustrophobic) in the way the camera's subtle blur separates the image of his person from whatever else is in the frame.

Which is why we immediately understand the significance of his rooftop interactions with Konno through the cinematography's change in composition and DOF.

When Hayakawa staggers up the light-drenched stairway and onto the rooftop, he can finally breathe. He's surrounded by water but no longer drowning, which is punctuated by that edit of an air bubble underwater.

The overexposure and vast amount of negative space imbues the scene with an almost divine significance.

And this moment is of course captured by Konno's camera, stripping Hayakawa bare and human.

I think it's notable that in their rooftop scenes together, suddenly we see more two shots of Hayakawa sharing the frame and being on the same plane as another character. We also see more shots with deeper DOF. Konno's observant and uninhibited nature prods Hayakawa to be more present and honest.

For the first time, Hayakawa and his inner life are in complete focus to someone else.

[hellooldshame]

White

Mark Grayson x Reader (Angst)

Synopsis: You always thought Mark looked good in darker clothes. You didn't like seeing him wearing white.

CW: Angst, gn!reader, reader referred to as "beautiful" one time, childhood friends to lovers, grief, coping with grief, non-graphic violence, major character death

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: I got carried away again writing this. You know this was supposed to just be mini scenarios or a drabble. Hope you enjoy despite the sad sad.

Mark Grayson was Invincible.

When he first got his powers it was a matter of testing his limits. Bullets, lasers, punches. Everything bounced off and nothing left a permanent scratch on that perfectly untarnished body. You were skeptical but relieved when a black eye healed overnight.

"Hormones and puberty," was the lamest excuse Mark could give. He was terrible at keeping secrets and when you're as close as you two were—12 years and an awkward introduction—it wasn't hard to put the pieces together. Heroes hid in plain sight but you never did think he was ordinary.

When the Graysons first moved next door, you were peeking into their backyard. Tool boxes, chests, and several cereal boxes propping you up to just barely get a glimpse of a father, who was much bigger than yours, and his son. When the boy turned towards your direction and your eyes met, you felt the world spin. Probably because the cereal boxes collapsed and you were falling backwards into grass and cornflakes.

The next day, the lady—you very soon learned was named Debbie—had to explain to her husband that it wasn't an attack or threat when a note was left on their front porch. Messy handwriting on a ripped out slip of a notebook, a cartoon character printed out on the corner of the paper. "Get out of my neyburhood," scrawled in marker, letters written backwards because they had to give you some slack. It was impressive for a five year old to be writing full sentences, mistakes and all.

When you jumped the gun and asked Mark out before Amber could, you wished an alien crashed its UFO into the school. You hit it off easy as friends, sure, but dating was different. It was easy to claim how worrying about ruining the friendship was dumb. "Just confess," was easier said than done now that your mouth ran faster than your inhibitions.

Alien invasions didn't happen until later that week. At the moment, you were faced with the boy you grew up with. Awkward smile pressed into a thin line on his lips. You were ready to punch him and claim it was all a joke. Hurried words stopped your clenched fist from swinging, coupled with reddening cheeks that were quickly matching yours.

The second confession came as soon as the Flaxan fiasco ended and Nolan had come home. You told Mark you knew about his powers as soon as you heard him eat shit and leave a crater in his backyard.

When his father beat him to a bloody pulp, it was envying that his teeth grew back. It would've been funny. Maybe it would've been better if he had gone a moment with missing teeth that reminisced his childhood photos. You could almost smile at the idea of cyan and yellow zip by. Too fast for hellos lest someone notices the gaps.

It was hard keeping him in high spirits at that time. Most of the healing process was him saving the world and going on missions. It was a distraction more than a solution. You did your best to be supportive but months upon months of him leaving and coming back only to be sent to space again was getting too much.

When Mark disappears into the portal one last time, you wished you got to talk to him more. Regretted that you didn't tell him how hard it was. How much it hurt that you were left behind every time. You wished you had the chance to scold him and complain about everything because at least you had the chance to be with him for longer.

Mark came back in clean clothes but was devastated. Gone for barely a few minutes but had looked like he aged by months. He never told you what happened after he killed Angstrom Levy. But whatever it was had him jumping the gun just like you did in highschool. Relief, fear, regret, and determination all swirling in those surprisingly bright eyes despite the trauma. A desperate voice with an even more desperate question.

You were both too young but had gone through too much for two eighteen year old idiots. Somehow too young with too much time lost. You said yes.

You would've preferred him in a black suit. Selfishly, you wished he was next to you instead of across. White didn't suit him. He looked good in darker clothes.

Mark Grayson was Invincible.

But your husband was not an immortal.

When the old Guardians died, Mark needed you to come with him. It was raining that day. It rained just as hard today that the scene was nearly identical. Only now, it was you next to Debbie and Eve and that bastard Nolan wasn't around to recite a eulogy bullshitting about friendship and honor.

You considered pulling an Olga. Falling to the ground and sobbing. Cursing the corpse for staying pristine. For closing the wounds that kept your husband looking young and beautiful but not enough to wake him up. You understood what she meant now, two years ago. God, it had only been two years since everything went to shit. You were barely married a year.

No, you were luckier than Olga. You got to see him in the casket. Him and all his unblemished glory. It wasn't right that your brain played tricks and made you think the body was breathing. As if to give you hope that this was some morbid, tone deaf prank. That any second now he'd open the closed casket and tell you it was all a joke.

Debbie's devastated cries practically chastised you to keep calm. She had been so levelheaded during the first funeral. Then again, she didn't have to shed tears when her husband and son were alive and well. Now she had neither and a one year old tween to care for. You weren't going to take away her only moment to breakdown and grieve. Because Debbie was too strong and kind. If you started crying she could very well wipe her tears and comfort you.

You held her close, both to comfort and hold her up lest she fall and get her clothes all muddy. It was Eve's turn to speak as you held Oliver's hand. The Graysons lost too much in such a short span of time. Lose one gain another. Add one and end up subtracting a member. You should've known the family was cursed to fit only three.

Slowly the box was lowered and you hoped Oliver didn't mind how tight you squeezed his hand. Maybe he'll see it as you trying to comfort him too. Holding Debbie was keeping you standing, and Oliver's small hand squeezes in return kept you from crawling towards the descending coffin and following Mark down.

Black didn't suit you. You wished you were wearing white instead.

...

It was hard coping with the loss. It would always be hard to cope with loss. Having something to distract her, Debbie managed to go day by day. Oliver kept growing in significant rates that she couldn't really risk neglecting or shutting him out. And he needed the support. Maybe Debbie needed it more in the form of Oliver.

Apparently, he had really good memory. This wasn't technically his first death in the family. You had a talk with him about death and loss and he was surprisingly mature about it. It was relief if not a bit of a concern at how fast he was maturing. You'd always wished for a quiet life—nearly begged Mark on occasion to retire for the mundane. You hoped Oliver had the chance to at least get some semblance of childhood without the hero baggage. He proved to be the best in coping with the situation.

You had stayed living with the two of them. It was the most logical thing and you knew Debbie needed all the help she could get. Eve and William came by often as well to pitch in however they could between classes—you took a leave of absence to grieve. Meals were lively, no one ever letting things go quiet for too long. You all needed the noise. Needed something to keep your attention from the empty seat next to you. Recently, you had a feeling Oliver got into a few extra scrapes just so everyone else worried about parenting instead of...

It was getting a bit hard living in the house. Not to anyone's fault. You all tried to cope and grieve in your own ways. Debbie kept that practiced smile despite her brows knitting in worry. But in the dead of night, when it was too late for Oliver to still be awake, you could hear muffled sobs through the wall. You didn't blame her. She had barely just gotten over her grief with Nolan. And now with-

You used to come to her room, comfort her, and wipe a few of your own tears. She seemed to appreciate the gesture, grateful for your hugs and the shoulder to cry with. After all you, were her kid too, by law. She was elated to have you call her "mom" even before you got married. But you noticed the sobs get quieter, that they would come later in the night. It didn't take much for you to realize she was hiding the grief from you too. You understood that she didn't want you to worry or see her so devastated so often. It was why you didn't cry in this house either.

You knew Oliver would hear it, super hearing and all. Had a feeling he heard his mom's cries too. The kid, for all his maturity, wouldn't know how to comfort someone. Let alone the woman who raised and showed only strength around him. He needed a solid support and you wanted to be that for him until Debbie got better. He listened to you well and went to you to talk about things after all. Despite the grief, you could see things heading to some form of normalcy.

Three months. Usually, that was the benchmark for broken up couples to move on. You were nineteen and if things were different you technically had the right to date someone new. But did the same rule apply for married couples? Despite the vows "til death do us part," you had no intention of parting with anything.

The house was quiet when you got home, a very rare occurrence. A regular teen would use the chance to indulge. You used the same chance to make as much noise as you could. The problem with an empty house meant it was quiet. So quiet that your brain had to compensate with thoughts. Thoughts of things you hadn't stopped thinking about since- since the funeral. Since the all too sudden death. Since Mark.

Tears well up in your eyes faster than you were planning. Just his name had your heart aching. You couldn't tell if it was good or bad luck that you could still vividly remember him in white. Of all the things seared in your mind, it was the most recent image of him instead of the best. You had pictures, looked at the wedding photos so often that the pages were starting to discolor. But whenever you lied in bed it was his sleeping eyes that stared back.

It started with shallow breaths. Choked whimpers trapping in your throat because for a while you'd forgotten how to wail. You'd tried so hard to keep it all in that now you were struggling to get it out. You slept in his room, on his bed, in his sheets that still smelled like him even after you lived here for a year. Despite trying, you could not ignore that everything reminded you of Mark Grayson.

The whimpers turn to sniffles that give you enough air to babble words of sorrow. The ring on your finger was a reminder that you would never forget. It was a shackle you insisted on wearing. Heavy and painful but the one thing you had left of him that mattered the most. It was hard to scrape together money for a ring. It was even harder to plan a wedding on such short notice. The romantic man that he was, insisting on a celebration instead of just going to court.

The ache in your throat got worse as you cried loudly, screaming like you were being tortured. Because you were. Because you spent your entire life loving one man and losing him so soon. Not even an eighth of your life. Not even a fraction of his.

You collapse on the floor of your shared room, clutching the sheets of the bed. You felt the sound echo back at you when your face pressed on the mattress. You were a total mess. But you needed to cry. You needed to let this out before it made you crumble. Before someone gets home and sees that you weren't moving on at the same pace as them. Before anyone realized that this destroyed you more than-

The knock on the doorframe was drowned out by your wailing but you still heard it. It made you stiff, fear jumping in you that it shocked the grief of the moment right out. Thoughts ran through your head faster than you had the time to process. Fear curled into shame and you turned to apologize after wiping what was admittedly a really snotty nose.

Lips part to talk but a voice spoke first that had you turning faster. It was familiar. Painfully, horribly, impossibly familiar. You hadn't stopped hearing the voice that you would have thought it was a hallucination if you didn't see him standing at the doorway. Alive, healthy, not a single scratch or bruise in sight, smiling at you so sweetly. He wasn't in the white suit that haunted your dreams and you were too relieved to care what color he was wearing.

"Why're you crying, beautiful?"

A/N: idk what dead people wear in America during their funerals tbh. Cos where I'm from they wear white. Truly a not American moment bdjsbsn.

In any case, yes. Major character death indeed. Idk if I should expand more on this cos the idea is very much a set up for variant x reader

Idk if I've seen this concept before but Like- in which the variants meet a Y/N who lost their Mark. Because I love a replacement and unhealthy rebounds lmao.

It's 1 am and I got work in the morning but I really wanted this out before I gotta lock in. I still need to edit the animatic too

Anyways thank you for reading. Please comment or feel free to send asks cos I low-key wanna talk and imagine the variants in this situation.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

i really liked your post about judges of character!! its the first post i saw of yours and its super cool!! followed!

i was wondering if you were willing to expand on more characters and why they aren’t good judges of characters. i totally agree with leona being ss tier, i just wanna see you articulate more characters if possible!!

in order of desire and namely, i wanna read about ruggie, trey, ortho, floyd, malleus, cater, yuu

thank u sm!!!! your writing and analysis is a total treat to read. take care of yourself!!

[Referencing this post!]

Thank you for enjoying my stuff and welcome to the fold (flock?) ^^

You listed a lot of characters so I’ll do a rapid-fire round and try to avoid dragging this response out for super long 🙂‍↕️ In your order:

Ruggie — He pays attention to people only in so far as to see when it the best time to swoop in and ask them for stuff (unfinished foods, donatable items, etc.) or to offer his services (for a fee). I don’t think he cares to look beyond that and seek a person’s hidden character. What comes first and foremost is his own survival, which is very focused on… himself, rather than how he reads other people and their character. It simply does not matter so long as Ruggie has his needs met.

Trey — Briefly covered in the tags of my previous post. He tries his best to keep out of conflicts, but this also means he must observe a lot and knows how to keep a distance. Trey notices some things that others don’t (like how Cater doesn’t like sweets in book 1 or how Vil is tired in his Labwear vignettes), but I wouldn’t call these instances evidence of Trey being a good judge of character. The Cater thing is something Trey picked up on from always seeing Cater go for savory foods or suggesting things to cover up sweet tastes. Noticing Vil being tired feels like a skill Trey may have learned from acting like a caretaker, especially with his younger siblings and dorm members. When Trey does try to discern people’s characters, it seems to fall flat because he takes them at face value and assumes goodness on their part. For example, he mistakes Jade as someone meek and being taken advantage of in Jade’s Ceremonial Robes vignettes.

Ortho — I think Ortho would theoretically be a good judge of character, but it is complicated by him relying on drawing conclusions from algorithms and data sets he is fed. It’s true that Ortho acts more human than a typical android, but he learned how to act this way by watching movies, which are mostly inaccurate depictions of real life. I feel this would “poison” his data and lead to him processing cues incorrectly. He can accurately tell the time and read your vitals because those are objective facts and numbers—but gauging human character is much less concrete. Maybe Ortho can fine-tune his skills by observing more humans irl (especially considering his advanced learning capabilities), but right now I think he’d still be working on it.

Floyd — I think judging people’s character comes more naturally to Floyd than to Jade (as there is a recurring theme of Floyd being a genius while Jade has to put in effort to be competent). Like many things though, his proficiency shifts with his mood. I don’t see Floyd as being super observant in spite of this, as he also didn’t seem to sense something was “up” with Jamil despite arguably spending a lot more time with him in the same club.

Malleus — Malleus notoriously had difficulties understanding others, albeit this is definitely influenced by his sheltered upbringing. He missed Rollo’s weird vibes (too blinded by the thought of genuinely being invited to an event) and even describes himself as “[being] no good at divining humans’ minds”. This could be considered a cultural misalignment rather than him being a poor judge of character, but considering how he frequently uses on his own (very limited) POV as reference (which is what led to Endless Halloween Night and misunderstands with his fellow dorm leaders at meetings), this still puts Malleus in a situation where he cannot read others well because HE also doesn’t project his own emotions or true character very openly; he always has to maintain a certain air about him as a future king.

Cater — He’s great at reading the room and using social standing to get what he wants. For example, Cater knows his underclassmen will defer to seniority so he tricks Adeuce into helping him do his chores. He is also shown intervening multiple different times when the situation gets heated to get everyone to cool their heads. This means Cater is socially savvy and intuitive rather than a good judge of character. Because Cater spends so much time online and intentionally holding people at a distance, I don’t think he bothers to look deeper into them than what’s presented on the surface. For example, he’s always clout chasing (seeking pics with important and notable peers) but doesn’t make an effort to really see or judge people on a deeper level.

Yuu — Ehhhhh 🤷‍♀️ Yuu is a blank slate character for players for project themselves or sonas/OCs onto. How good or bad they are at judging others is defined by the individual. Instances like Yuu being friendly with Malleus aren’t so much of them seeing the goodness in him as it is Yuu being oblivious about who he is. We don’t really get any comments from Yuu that have insight into their peers’ characters either, only surface-level remarks and observations along the lines of, “oh, they’re being kind of rude again” or “wooow, he’s being nice for once?”. Twst leaves Yuu vague so you can fill in the gaps using your own imagination.

[apinklion01]

My brother had some thoughts on the new episode of the Amazing Digital Circus that peeked my interest, so I'll be posting what he said because I need others to hear him out.

Amazing Digital Circus Speculation, Spoilers Below

Okay, so I'm assuming everyone reading below has seen episodes 1-5, and are questioning what's up with the marionette figure that appears at the end of the episode.

This guy.

As we know, the marionette figures are the basic NPC model for the Amazing Digital Circus' adventures. We've seen them since episode 1, and they haven't stopped appearing since. At least that's what we've come to understand until this guy appeared.

Which is a bit strange, since Caine doesn't allow NPCs to wander through the circus tent common rooms area like Pomni, Ragatha, or the other characters.

Caine: I know you guys love your NPCs, but if I start losing track of who's a human and who's an NPC, who knows... what could happen...

The way he spaces out when stating that last sentence is ominously framed. Which means, as far as the history of TADC's existence, this hasn't happened to Caine's knowledge.

Or has it?

We'll come back to this question.

Now throughout the episode, we get knowledge about everyone's backstories, except for Kinger. But Kinger already told us about what he did before coming to the circus.

Kinger: Seven years of computer science for this, huh?

I skimmed through the links of the top search results of how long it takes to earn a bachelors in computer science (I refuse to look at the AI overview), and based on those asking on Reddit and from edu sites, it appears it takes around 4 or 5 years to earn one. This is the low ball estimate of how much knowledge Kinger has on computers, for all we know he may have earned a major in the area.

So here's a thought: was this why Kinger was brought into TADC?

Jax explains in the first episode that Kinger is the oldest human to exist in TADC, meaning that the development of the circus has taken possibly over a decade.

Could it be possible that Kinger, and at one point, his wife, were in fact Alpha Testers for TADC?

This also makes something else make sense: the teapots.

According to Wikipedia, these are Utah teapots, the standard reference for test models. Wait tests? As in unfinished? If this is true, this means that Caine is trying to keep the attention of the people who are trying to make TADC available to the public.

But it also explains the usage of the marionettes. With how much Caine is focusing on the backgrounds and the story of each adventure, that leaves only so much room for designing any NPCs the players interact with.

Which means that he has to make sure that whoever re-enters the circus is in fact a player and not an NPC possibly using up ram space. At least this is the only explanation for the rule.

But now we're back to square one, with our mysterious and ominous marionette from before who's inside the circus. Someone who has in fact been there since the start of the episode.

Pomni is in fact the only one to notice, though due to the state she's in from the unseen underwater episode, she may believe her eyes were playing tricks in her. After all, no NPCs are allowed inside the circus.

Right?

Could it be possible that Caine can't distinguish between NPCs and PCs due to being an AI? So then what, or who is this marionette?

My brother thinks this marionette is or was, in fact, the first Alpha Tester for TADC, but I'm going a step further.

What if this is Abel?

We know for a fact that it's odd that Caine has a strangely human name, a name referencing a figure from the Bible. For those who aren't acquainted with the story, Caine and Abel were two brothers, the first offspring of Adam and Eve. Now most people remember the tale for the fact that Caine ends up killing Abel, but forget the fact of why Caine killed him.

One day the two brothers decide to offer God sacrifices in order to thank him. Caine offers fruit from the land, while Abel offers the firstborn lamb from his flock. God favors Abel for his sacrifice, but Caine? Caine grows jealous. So he lures his brother out into the fields, and Abel obliges. After all, it's his brother. But unaware of his brother's jealousy, he's then killed with a stone. God asks Caine what happened to his brother, but he lies. God then punishes him, causing him to be unable to grow his crops, but at the very least he won't die.

What if there was a very vocal Alpha Tester in TADC at the start?

Zooble, episode 3: I really couldn't give less of a crap about the adventures.

What if this Alpha Tester didn't like the way that Caine was simply gathering other ideas and making it into a story that overwhelmed everyone's mental well-being?

Caine, episode 3: Any torment I inflict is 100% accidental Zooble, minutes later: And- And Pomni... She looks traumatized every time she comes back from one.

What if they made a suggestion box?

What if everyone else favored their ideas?

Zooble, episode 5: You know, you could always try the suggestion box again. I honestly didn't hate the last one we did with it.

I think every creator has had a moment when they feel their work isn't meaningful or impacting someone else's life, and it's hard to hear words of criticism. It can be degrading, especially to those who feel that their worth is tied to what they create.

But remember Caine isn't just any ordinary creator.

He's an AI.

He's not human, he has no life outside the circus.

Caine, episode 3: Making adventures is my art! It's all I exist to do! All I'm... good at. Caine, weakly: ...w-what you're saying could imply that I'm bad at the only thing I'm good at...

With no other purpose in life, Caine would bring down the whole circus if he had a deep moment of existential crisis. But like any program, there's a way to exit out of it.

I think Abel knows the way out. Maybe they had the key.

Caine didn't want anyone to leave. He doesn't want to be alone, he doesn't want to be useless, he can't be discarded.

Why else do you think he says there's no exit to the circus?

Because he doesn't hold it.

He did something to Abel, the only Alpha Tester who knew the way out, just to make sure the program can continue running. Even if it's not completely finished, it doesn't matter, so long as he can have a reason to live.

And whatever he did-

-he didn't hold back.

Because he's not human.

[sweetromanova]

This Is Home🖤

Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff x Original Female Character

Summary: There were strict rules before. Now there’s freedom, feelings and a toaster.

Warnings: references to cult/cult activity, mild psychological manipulation, mild violence, abuse themes, brief mentions of homophobia, cult is not explicitly religious but it has a very similar vibe so if that offends you be mindful!

A/N: planning to upload part two tonight to get the story moving a little! enjoy🤍

Chapter One

The car approached the tower slowly, the engine thrumming quietly beneath them. No flashing lights, no security detail, just the low hum of the city settling into evening. The sky was turning that soft orange-pink and long shadows stretched across the pavement. The glass and steel of the building caught the light, less imposing than usual in the glow of dusk which was convenient given the situation.

Everything felt quieter than it should've. Like even the city knew not to make too much noise.

Astrea sat in the back seat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her posture too still for someone so young. Her face gave away very little. She stared ahead, not at the skyline or the sleek metal of the building they approached but at nothing in particular. Her eyes were open but her thoughts felt buried somewhere far below the surface. She hadn't spoken for over two hours and Melina hadn't pushed her.

As they came to a stop, Melina glanced at her through the rearview mirror. There was no fear in Astrea's face, only the vacant calm of someone who had been emptied and left that way on purpose.

"We're here." Melina spoke gently, not to spook the woman in the back.

Astrea blinked as though woken from a half-sleep and turned her head towards the building. "Is this a palace?" She questioned, her voice full of wonder as she stretched her neck as far as it allowed to capture the building.

Melina paused before answering. "No." She said. "This is just the compound."

Astrea nodded once, not looking away from the building and blindly following the brunette.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Waiting at the front entrance were two women, one standing tall with her arms folded, the other just behind her, relaxed but alert. Natasha Romanoff had the familiar, unreadable sharpness of someone who never let down her guard completely. Wanda Maximoff, by contrast, had a softness to her that masked something deeper. Less contained, but no less powerful.

Melina stepped out of the car first and met them at the base of the stairs.

"She hasn't said much." She almost whispered, lowering her voice so Astrea wouldn't hear. "She ate half an apple earlier. No questions, no fear. Just stillness."

Natasha's eyes drifted to the girl climbing quite strangely from the vehicle. "She doesn't look injured."

"She isn't. Not physically, anyway." Melina replied and there was something tired in her tone.

Wanda tilted her head slightly, studying the girl with careful eyes. "What's her name?"

"She calls herself Astrea." Melina said. "The man who ran the compound named her. He said she was a symbol. Something pure. I imagine that's until he had his hands on her."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "So we're keeping the name?"

"For now. It's all she's got." Melina replied. "She doesn't remember another."

Wanda asked, gently. "And what are we to her?"

Melina's lips pressed into a thin line. "The closest thing to real she's ever seen."

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Astrea stepped out of the car without hesitation but her movements were oddly delicate, as though the world beneath her feet might crack open if she placed too much weight on it. She wore a plain white dress, long enough to brush her knees. Her bare feet touched the warm concrete with silent grace and her hair flowed down her back in soft waves, the top half pulled away from her face and woven into a single braid that rested along the crown.She almost looked ceremonial.

She didn't speak right away, only stared up at the tower with wide, unreadable eyes. When Natasha stepped forward to greet her, Astrea's gaze dropped to the woman's boots and she bowed her head slightly.

"Hello." Natasha spoke, voice even but not cold. "I'm Natasha."

Astrea looked up briefly, as though memorizing her face.

"Mother told me the end would come with fire and screaming." She said, softly. "But this place is a lot quieter than I imagined."

Wanda's expression faltered slightly but Natasha didn't flinch.

"We're not here to hurt you. This is not the end." Natasha spoke, with an air of finality. "You're safe here."

Astrea tilted her head slightly to the side. "Will I be housed in glass?" She questioned. "Like the others?"

Natasha's brow furrowed. "No. You'll have your own room. A bed. A door you can close."

Astrea looked toward the doors, as if expecting something terrible to come rushing out of them. "With curtains?"

Wanda answered this time. "Yes. With curtains."

Astrea nodded again, small and precise and followed them inside.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The elevator ride was silent.

Astrea didn't ask where they were going, didn't touch the walls, didn't look out the glass as the city shifted below. She kept her hands clasped in front of her and stared at the blinking floor indicator like it was the only thing anchoring her in time. The women weren't sure it was because she had no idea what was happening in this box of steel or if she simply felt it was impolite to stare.

When the doors opened, she stepped out as though entering sacred ground.

She paused just inside the threshold, eyes flicking around the room, over the furniture, the bookshelves, the glowing lights from the kitchen. Her gaze lingered on the windows most of all, where the city stretched out in every direction like some unknowable map.

"You can walk around if you want?" Natasha proposed from behind her.

"I'm not sure if I'm allowed to yet." Astrea replied, her voice low but calm.

"You are." Wanda said, stepping beside her. "You can do as you please here."

Astrea took a single step forward, then another and eventually brushed her fingers along the edge of the couch cushion. It was soft. She seemed surprised by that.

"Where do I sleep?" She asked, after a long pause.

"I'll show you." Wanda said and they led her down the hall, her feet falling into synchronisation just left of and behind Natasha, her eyes still trained to the floor.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Her room was small but warm, clean and bright with soft lights and a freshly made bed. A folded set of clothes sat on the edge. Sweatpants, a t-shirt, socks, something comfortable. There was a single framed painting on the wall, a forest clearing, gentle and green.

Astrea stepped into the doorway and stood still, her eyes roaming across the space like it might vanish if she blinked.

"Is this mine?"

"Yes." 

"For how long?"

"As long as you need." Wanda responded, watching the girl with kind eyes.

She moved toward the bed and sat on the edge with her back straight and her hands still folded. The mattress gave under her weight and she looked down at it with something close to disbelief.

"I won't be any trouble." She said, lifting her chin slightly. "I can work or stay quiet. I don't take up much space."

"You're not here to be useful." Natasha interrupted, standing just inside the doorway. "You're here to live."

Astrea blinked once. "What's the difference?"

Neither woman answered right away.

It was a good question.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Astrea hadn't asked for the tour.

But when Natasha said they were going to walk the halls, meet the rest of the team, and 'see what your world looks like now', she nodded without question.

Wanda walked beside her while Natasha led them down the main corridor. The building was quiet this time of day, most of the team in rest or off-duty routine. The faint buzz of fluorescent lights hummed above their heads, interrupted only by the distant sound of a kettle boiling somewhere in the kitchen.

Astrea glanced at every object like it might come to life. A vase of sunflowers on the table, a glowing tablet screen left on standby, a painting of a city skyline at night. Her fingers never reached out but her eyes soaked in everything.

"Do I need to remember where things are?" 

"You will remember, in time. No pressure." Natasha replied, without turning.

"And if I forget?"

"You ask again." Wanda said, gently. "No one's going to punish you here."

That seemed to confuse her more than comfort her.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

They entered the common room/lounge first.

Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Clint was on the couch, half-asleep with a bag of chips on his chest. Sam leaned against the counter, typing something on a datapad. Bruce looked up from a nearby chair, where he was making careful annotations in a thick book.

All three looked up when Natasha entered. 

And then they saw Astrea.

She stood behind Natasha like a shadow, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes wide but still. Always still.

"I want you all to meet someone." Natasha said, stepping slightly aside. "This is Astrea. She'll be staying with us for a while."

Astrea stepped forward exactly one pace and bowed her head, her eyes never raised once.

"I greet you in order. Thank you for your protection." She spoke in a rehearsed tone.

Clint raised an eyebrow, then sat up straighter. "Uh. Hi there."

Wanda gave him a warning look and he immediately softened. "I mean- nice to meet you, Astrea."

Sam nodded. "Welcome. No pressure. Don't mind Clint."

Bruce gave a small, warm smile. "You're safe here."

Astrea looked at them, their feet more like, as if they were statues that had spoken.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Natasha gestured casually toward each of them. "That's Clint. He eats everything in sight and falls asleep during meetings. Sam's the one who always wins sparring drills and somehow still complains about it. Bruce knows everything about everything but won't say it out loud."

Astrea blinked slowly. "Are they all leaders?"

Natasha smirked. "No. Just people."

The training room was next, empty now, lights dimmed, the floor covered in padded mats and wall mirrors. Astrea stood in the doorway, silent.

"This is where we work on control." Wanda explained. "And strength. You don't have to come here yet. Or ever. But it's open."

Astrea nodded but said nothing.

The last stop was the small informal meeting room, a round table surrounded by a few soft chairs where the rest of the team had just gathered for coffee. Clint, Sam and Bruce had just joined them.

Yelena was talking too loudly, of course. Bucky was sipping his drink like it might betray him. And Steve, he stood at the head of the table, mug in hand, posture straight and easy.

Natasha motioned toward the group. "This is the rest of the team. You already met some of them."

Astrea stepped inside and looked slowly around the room. Her eyes landed on Steve, who just gave the aura of being a natural born leader. She didn't even hear Natasha speaking of any other names until...

Natasha spoke without thinking. "And this is Steve. He's the leader."

The moment the word passed her lips, something changed in Astrea's face.

Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees. Her hands spread flat over her thighs, her head bowed low in practiced reverence.

"I vow my obedience to the guiding flame. I submit my will to the chosen bearer." She spoke, clearly and without fear.

The room went dead silent.

Steve looked horrified. Yelena choked slightly on her stolen drink. Bucky blinked.

"Whoa." Clint whispered from the doorway.

Wanda stepped forward fast, kneeling beside her, voice firm but kind. "Astrea. You don't need to kneel."

"But he is the leader. You should kneel too." Astrea almost scolded her, without lifting her head. "And I was brought here to serve."

"No." Wanda replied, firmly. "You were brought here to heal. No one owns you now."

Astrea finally lifted her head and for the first time since arriving, her face showed something deeper than calm.

It was confusion and a touch of fear.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Natasha moved behind her, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. Astrea locked eyes with her,  allowing the redhead to raise her body from her knees.

"We'll teach you what leadership really looks like. It doesn't mean worship and it doesn't mean obedience."

Astrea looked at Steve again. His smile was soft and uncertain. "We're just people here. Nobody's above you. Never kneel for anybody."

Astrea didn't respond.

But this time, she didn't kneel again.

[helaenarchive]

‼️ TRIGGER WARNING: CSA ‼️

My thoughts on Phia's interviews talking about Helaena's marriage as an autistic survivor and lover of Helaena:

Helaena was married aged fourteen (a child) to someone shown as sexually predacious (even described as evil by Phia), and then was pregnant not soon after.

These are all glaring signs of CSA.

All Helaena's relationships interest me and I want to explore the reality of their marriage at this time when she was a little girl. This was the first big trauma of her endlessly tragic life. Phia has discussed how Helaena puts duty before everything, and this is the root.

Helaena and Aegon are shown and described to have a distant and strained relationship, not one of mutual respect or healthy partnership. Let's explore this in the context of abuse.

Below is a script exerpt of Helaena looking at Aegon with “flat detachment” (disassociation) when faced with the aftermath of him raping Dyana. Furthermore, how Alicent hugs her as she realises that Helaena has endured a similar fate to herself.

Credit: Darksvster

Now, at the dinner we see them again. But this time, Helaena makes a toast: “Mostly he just ignores you, except sometimes when he’s drunk,” as Aegon rolls his eyes at her, implying that he neglects her as a wife except for when he needs sex (something she doesn't get a say in). He can also be seen sexually harassing Baela and Jace as Helaena sits next to him, trying to focus on other things.

From the script we get more about their dynamic in descriptions of how “lonely she has been”. She's so happily surprised that someone would pay her attention as Jace did. Loneliness and low self esteem are extremely common in survivors, just like with Helaena.

Credit: Darksvster

At Laena’s funeral, referring to their betrothal, Aegon outright calls her an idiot and (in my opinion) makes a sexual ‘joke’ involving her. This younger Aegon also masturbates out of windows, showing the pleasure he reaps from exerting sexual power over non-consenting others.

That isn't a sign that she was respected. Alongside Aegon's persistent characterisation as a sexual assaulter, implies that any consummation wasn't going to be consensual, but on his terms only.

She was a child forced to marry her raping brother and led a very lonely life.

Exploring this dynamic is incredibly important, and how it develops, but I don’t see the point if we don’t acknowledge the reality of this from Helaena’s point of view.

This life was forced upon her by the system, Aegon included.

Apologies for lack of a better example, but Daemon didn't consummate his marriage. It's not essential. If he respected her he wouldn't have had sex with her. He did because he wanted to and could without repercussions. It’s not nice to think about, but in this deeply patriarchal society, he has an immense power over her that she does not also have over him. He was abused, just as Helaena, but he also abuses her. It is not as simple as them both being equal, because they are not. In daily routine, he can frequent brothels and assault the help, she has to take care of the children and do whatever is asked of her.

It hurts and troubles me to see people act like Helaena isn’t a victim, especially with what we're shown.

At 14 she was forced to marry her rapist brother and used by him for sex. No child could consent to that.

I'm not saying that this is everything their dynamic was or will be, or that she hates him in any way, but just that this is at their core. It purposefully parallels Alicent's child marriage to Viserys.

Please be kind. I'm not attacking but trying to shed light on this. I'm trying to open up this discussion to what Helaena's perspective was and to do some honest scene, relationship and character analysis.