#i think it probably has something to do with complexity

[4barbatos]

✦ forgive me, father (for i came)

venti x dahlia x fem!reader

then had a ménage à trois ...last friday night .ᐟ

cw: threesome (dom!venti & dom!dahlia x sub!fem!reader), spit-roasting, overstimulation, light dumbification, degradation and praise, blasphemous religious themes, rough sex, oral (receiving + giving), light choking, name-calling, drunken decisions, semi-public buildup, reader being very very down bad. idek atp it’s unholy.

a/n: jesus. this fic nearly took me out 😭 had to do actual research on what goes down at an american party bc obviously i’m not american (if u thought i was…… respectfully get out). also i was gonna post this at 2am but i deadass fell asleep mid-edit while “last friday night” was blasting in my left ear.

had this festering in my drafts for like a week because my brain refused to cooperate. finishing it felt like fighting for my life in the trenches, but i’m glad i pushed through bc i kinda love it??? dahlia being a repressed religious perv is sooo real to me. venti has a god complex and i’m not stopping him. man thinks he invented pleasure. praise be. 

also! modern college au, everyone’s legal and consenting, and ready to make terrible decisions <3 

you didn’t even wanna come to this party. 

like, genuinely. you had an exam next week, a half-written paper, and a half-dead social battery. the last thing you needed was to be shoulder-to-shoulder with a bunch of horny undergrads blasting katy perry like it was 2010 and shame didn’t exist.

but your roommate was hot and persuasive and already four shots in when she started dragging you by the wrist.

“i swear,” she slurred, her glitter eyeshadow half-smudged and confidence turned all the way up to eleven, “you need to get dicked down or at least dance, girl.”

you brought a water bottle and wore a thrifted denim short. crop top optional, dignity minimal. you figured you’d hover around the snacks, say no to three drinks, and dip early with your gpa intact.

you weren’t expecting to find god.

or rather — two boys who made you forget him completely.

it started off normal. crowded house, colored leds, somebody grinding to a weeknd remix in the living room. your roommate disappeared ten minutes in, presumably to go make out with that guy from her econ class who looked like he cried after sex.

you were posted by the kitchen counter with your “water” (spiked, probably) and a vague plan to ghost as soon as someone tried to rope you into flip cup.

suddenly you heard a familiar voice, buried under the bass and drunk laughter. something warm and deep, with a laugh you remembered a little too well — like the echo of a bad idea, like the first sip of communion wine that was definitely not grape juice.

you turned your head, scanning through the haze of neon lights and sweaty bodies until you saw him.

“wait,” you said, freezing mid-step. “is that—”

you blinked through the crowd. tilted your head. no fucking way.

“dahlia?”

and like some kind of divine punishment, he looked up right as you said it. head tilted. curls a little longer now. smile the same. pretty as always, just older — more grown into himself. less sunday choir, more sunday morning regret.

you stared. he stared back.

and he smiled. slow. familiar.

“holy shit,” you mumbled. “literal church boy dahlia. the pervert.”

your friend turned her head, already halfway through her third drink. “the what?”

you grinned, cheeks flushed. “he used to moan during prayer.”

she choked. “you’re kidding.”

“senior youth retreat. i was there. it was dark.”

you didn’t mean to talk to him again. not really.

you were supposed to be getting more water — in the loosest sense of the word — and maybe scoping out the snacks before your roommate dared someone to dance on the dining table. but somehow, you ended up pressed near the kitchen counter with him, sipping vodka-disguised hydration and laughing a little too easily against the tune of an early-2000s party playlist.

like the past didn’t hum under your skin.

like you hadn’t spent whole years pretending you didn’t think about his lips when you closed your eyes.

“you still go to church?” you asked, voice looser now, a little slow from the alcohol. your eyes flicked down to the rosary slung around his neck, a glint of silver nestled above exposed collarbones. the chain dipped beneath his half-unbuttoned shirt — a silk one, of course, because dahlia didn’t know how to dress normally.

“every sunday,” he said, tilting his head, elbow resting behind you like he always needed to trap you somewhere. “confession, too.”

you raised a brow. “must be a long-ass session.”

he grinned. “only when i think of you.”

you choked. coughed. wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“you’re disgusting,” you muttered, trying not to smile. “jesus wept.”

“probably because you wore that skirt to sunday school.”

you gave him a look. “you wore fishnets to a baptism.”

“we all have our moments.”

you snorted, flicking his arm. “blasphemous freak.”

he leaned in, mouth close to your ear, voice low: “missed you too, sweetheart.”

you were about to recover — really — when a new voice cut in. higher, smoother, soaked in flirt and casual sin.

“hey,” someone drawled, “who’s your friend?”

you turned your head.

and immediately forgot how to breathe.

the boy standing there looked like temptation had crawled out of a lana del rey song and decided to make itself fashion. crop top riding dangerously high on his waist. eyeliner smudged like he’d fucked and cried in it. messy red eyeshadow painted over his lids like sin. earrings glinting with every lazy tilt of his head. thigh chains. layered necklaces. a smile like he already knew every filthy thought in your head and was ready to make it worse.

he looked at you like a cat watching something twitch.

“venti,” dahlia muttered beside you, voice already tight. “this is y/n.”

venti’s eyes didn’t leave your face. “oh. hi.”

your brain short-circuited.

he tilted his head, smile curling. slow. knowing.

your heart did a little skip. then maybe a cartwheel. maybe a confessional-level sin.

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. you blinked, twice, trying to remember how words worked.

venti’s gaze dragged down and up in one unashamed sweep — not even pretending to be subtle. when his eyes met yours again, they sparkled. and then he smiled wider.

dahlia rolled his eyes so hard it looked like a prayer for patience. “she’s mine.”

you scoffed immediately. “she’s not,” you said, turning fully toward him — maybe too quick. maybe too flustered.

venti was still watching you, smug like he’d already won. 

your knees wobbled. traitors.

dahlia noticed. of course he did. he stepped in closer, hand ghosting over your hip like he had to remind both of you where you used to belong.

“you’re drunk,” he muttered, low.

“so are you,” you shot back, voice breathier than you wanted.

venti’s grin sharpened like a knife. “i’m sober enough to know i’d make her feel better than your holy hands ever could.”

he took a sip from his red solo cup, and when a drop slipped past his lip, he caught it with his tongue.

your soul left your body.

dahlia made a sound halfway between a scoff and a growl. “you’re going to hell.”

venti shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “with her? gladly.”

you exhaled. shaky. already fucked in the head. already thinking about what it’d be like to be ruined between them — choir boy and chaos incarnate.

you had a paper due monday. a hangover waiting to ambush you. a party full of strangers that wouldn’t notice you disappearing.

and god definitely wasn’t here tonight. 

“so,” venti said, stepping closer — dangerously closer — until your shoulder nearly brushed his. he smelled like wine and spearmint and something sweet you couldn’t name. “what brings a girl like you to a party like this?”

“roommate dragged me,” you replied, trying to sound casual. your voice came out thinner than expected. “i have an exam next week.”

“mm. you study hard?”

“i try to.”

he smiled like you just handed him ammunition. “you look like you need a break.”

“she doesn’t need your kind of break,” dahlia muttered, shifting beside you. his palm skimmed the curve of your waist, familiar and territorial.

venti, unbothered, leaned past you to grab a bottle off the counter — something green and half-empty — and poured a finger of it into his cup. he offered it to you with a smirk.

you didn’t take it.

“i’m already drunk,” you said.

“so am i,” he replied, “and yet i’m still making excellent choices.”

“this isn’t an excellent choice,” dahlia said, tugging you a little closer.

“what, sharing a drink or stealing your girl?”

you almost choked.

“i’m not his girl,” you said.

dahlia’s fingers tensed.

venti’s eyes glittered. “well, if you’re not his… can i have you?”

you blinked at him.

and maybe it was the alcohol. maybe it was the way he was smiling like he’d already won. maybe it was the ghost of dahlia’s breath on your neck, the memory of his hands under your skirt at sixteen, the fact that you felt so alive for the first time in weeks —

but you said it. blame the devil, the vodka, the look in venti’s eyes. you said it anyway.

“are you two gonna keep talking,” you asked, voice low, “or are you gonna fuck me?”

a beat of stunned silence.

then —

“dibs,” venti said, instantly, voice light but laced with something that made your spine straighten. “i call dibs.”

“you can’t call dibs,” dahlia snapped, sharp and bristling. “she’s not some fucking prize.”

venti only smiled, stepping closer with that same lazy, dangerous charm. “sure feels like i’m winning something.”

“i talked to her first.”

“you also tried to claim her like a parking space,” venti shot back, glancing at you with a knowing gleam. “she said no, remember?”

you blinked up at them, half amused, half unhinged, stomach doing flips and thighs already pressing tight.

“jesus,” you muttered, “this is the worst threesome negotiation ever.”

venti leaned down a little, voice dropping as he looked you straight in the eye. “oh, love. this isn’t negotiation. this is foreplay.”

you might’ve blacked out for a second. just a little.

then dahlia was suddenly behind you, crowding close enough for his chest to press against your back, one hand low on your waist, mouth right next to your ear.

“say the word,” he murmured, “and i’ll take you upstairs right now. don’t even have to look at him.”

venti hummed. “but she wants to. don’t you, pretty thing?”

you turned to look at him.

his tongue was running along the edge of his bottom lip, slow and knowing, fingers playing with one of his necklaces. he was watching you like a dare. like he already knew what decision you were going to make.

your mouth went dry. your body didn’t.

“you’re both,” you said, exhaling, “so fucking annoying.”

“but hot,” venti reminded, cocky.

“and talented,” dahlia added, already pulling you subtly toward the hallway. “you remember.”

venti’s hand was on your other wrist before you realized it, cool and confident. “i promise i’m better.”

you didn’t even know who led you up the stairs — one of them pushed the door open, the other tugged you inside, both of them crowding close as the music faded behind a slam and the click of a lock.

heat. hands.

someone’s mouth on your neck. someone else’s fingers at the hem of your shorts.

“dibs on her mouth,” venti said, already dropping to his knees, smiling like the devil as he looked up at you.

“you’re such a slut,” dahlia muttered — but he let go.

“i am,” venti grinned, tugging your hips closer. “and she’s about to be, too.”

you barely had time to breathe.

venti’s hands were already gliding up your thighs, warm and smooth, dragging your shorts and underwear down in one practiced, greedy motion. the grin never left his face. not even when he kissed the inside of your knee and said, in the sweetest voice you’d ever heard:

“hold still for me, baby. gonna make you sing.”

you almost said something smart — almost — but then his mouth was on you, and the words evaporated. tongue hot, slow, teasing. his thumbs held your thighs open with a surprisingly firm grip, and then he moaned into your pussy like he’d just tasted something divine.

your knees buckled.

“fuck,” you gasped, one hand shooting out blindly until it hit dahlia’s arm. you curled your fingers into his shirt. “oh my god—”

“told you she’d sound pretty,” venti murmured against your cunt, before licking another long stripe up the center and flicking your clit with his tongue.

“and i told you to shut up,” dahlia muttered, but his voice was hoarse. his hand found the back of your neck, thumb stroking the edge of your jaw as he leaned in to kiss your temple. “you like his mouth, baby?”

you whimpered, nodding helplessly.

“yeah, she does,” venti said smugly. “she’s dripping. such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

you would’ve protested — maybe — but then he sucked, lips wrapping around your clit and tugging just right, and the pleasure hit like lightning.

your hips jerked forward. dahlia caught you.

“venti,” you whimpered, “fuck—i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he said sweetly. “let go for me, pretty thing. cum all over my tongue.”

you did.

shaking, gasping, clinging to dahlia’s shirt like a lifeline while your thighs trembled around venti’s head. he groaned, licking you through it, hands firm on your ass to keep you steady.

when it was over, he kissed the inside of your thigh like a reward.

“so sweet,” he murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “might get addicted.”

you were still trying to catch your breath when dahlia gently tilted your face toward his.

his eyes were dark.

“my turn,” he said.

you didn’t realize you were grinding against venti’s mouth until he groaned, loud and thrilled, hands squeezing your thighs to keep you there. your head spun. your hips jerked. he loved it.

“needy girl,” he gasped against you, tongue flicking quick and sharp. “use me.”

you whimpered.

behind you, dahlia cursed under his breath, pushing your bra up to mouth at your tits, teeth grazing your nipple just rough enough to make you jolt. “fuck, baby. so sensitive. you’re gonna cum already, aren’t you?”

venti pulled back just enough to grin against your skin. “she’s close.”

“she always was easy.” “she’s perfect.” “she’s mine.”

you gasped, nearly choking on your own breath.

“then why’s she whining on my tongue?” venti said, smug, dragging it over you again — and god, it was filthy the way he moaned like he’d been starved for this, like the taste of you was his favorite kind of poison.

you cried out, trembling hard enough that dahlia had to grip your hips tighter to keep you upright.

“venti—venti—fuck—”

“cum for me,” he said sweetly. “be good and make a mess on my face.”

and you did.

with a cry that split the air, you came hard — shaking, hips bucking, vision dark at the edges. venti didn’t stop. he ate it up, humming, licking through your orgasm like he was trying to memorize it. like he wanted seconds.

maybe thirds.

you barely had time to catch your breath before dahlia was spinning you, lips crashing into yours — rough, messy, starved.

“still mine,” he muttered against your mouth. “she might’ve got you first, but i get to fuck you.”

venti wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes shining. “we get to fuck her.”

dahlia didn’t argue this time.

you were dizzy, your knees barely holding, your pulse still too fast. but you didn’t care.

not when dahlia was walking you back toward the bed, pushing you gently down, stripping you slow like you were something precious and ruined all at once. not when venti crawled up beside you, kissing your neck, your jaw, your collarbone — every inch dahlia wasn’t touching.

“gonna take care of you,” venti whispered, fingers ghosting down your stomach. “you’ll let us, won’t you?”

you nodded. breathless.

“use your words, baby,” dahlia said, already undoing his belt. “what do you want?”

you looked between them — wrecked and warm and starving — lips parted, thighs trembling, mouth slick with spit and want and everything you weren’t supposed to be.

your voice barely came out a whisper.

“…both of you.”

venti beamed. radiant. unholy. like a prayer turned inside out.

“god bless.”

“god hates us,” dahlia muttered, already pushing your thighs further apart, climbing over you like he owned you. “and i’m about to make you forget every prayer you’ve ever known.”

your breath hitched. your whole body keened.

then came the first thrust — deep, deliberate — and the air punched out of your lungs in a messy, wrecked sound.

you didn’t even know whose hands were on you anymore. one gripped your throat just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, another curled around your hip, dragging you back against their pace like you were made for it. venti was saying something — words you couldn’t catch, not when your brain was sliding like honey through your skull — but his mouth was wet and hot and everywhere, his tongue licking into your teeth like he wanted to taste the exact second you broke.

dahlia growled in your ear, low and dark, his grip bruising.

“say it,” he rasped. “say who’s making you feel this good.”

“y-you both—” you gasped, hands scrabbling for anything to hold onto. “fuck, please—”

“aw, look at her,” venti cooed, voice syrupy, cocky, cruel. “can’t even think straight. how many times has she cum already?”

“four,” dahlia grunted. “maybe five.”

“mm. not enough.”

you whimpered as venti dipped between your legs again, tongue unrelenting, too much — too much — but god, you didn’t want it to stop. didn’t want to breathe if it meant they’d stop touching you like this, worshipping you like the altar you were never meant to be.

you moaned — high and helpless — when dahlia’s pace picked up, slamming into you like he was trying to fuck his name into your spine.

venti grinned up at you from between your thighs, lips wet and swollen.

“gonna make her forget the alphabet.”

“already did,” dahlia panted. “she went stupid after the second orgasm.”

you didn’t deny it.

you couldn’t. your brain had been fucked clean out of your head, scrambled like eggs, your only thoughts left were their names and the way they made you feel — raw, perfect, ruined.

and still they kept going. and you let them.

you let them, because you were already too far gone. because your body begged for more even when your mind shattered. because you’d never felt this good. this full. this taken.

because whatever sins you’d committed to get here?

you’d do them all again. twice. in heels.

god was gone. and you were still moaning.

it didn’t matter anymore. not with your legs trembling open, cunt puffy and dripping, drool sliding from the corner of your mouth as you moaned pathetically around venti’s cock.

“ohh, look at her,” venti cooed, breath shaky, voice teasing and airy as he fisted your hair. “baby’s all fucked out already, and we haven’t even finished.”

“slut,” dahlia muttered behind you, hands digging into your hips as he snapped his into yours. “you came again, didn’t you? just now. again. fuck—your pussy’s still squeezing like she wants more.”

you whined around venti’s length, eyelids fluttering. your arms couldn’t hold you up anymore. your thighs had given out ages ago. they kept you upright between them — barely — venti’s cock hitting the back of your throat while dahlia was still pounding into your soaked, overstimulated cunt like he was trying to fuck the brain out of you.

maybe he already had.

venti moaned, hips twitching as your lips hollowed around him. “you’re drooling, pretty girl,” he gasped. “so messy. god, i love it. she’s not even blinking, look—she’s gone, dahlia.”

“good,” dahlia growled, pace still brutal. “she wanted to act like she didn’t want either of us earlier. needed a reminder.”

venti chuckled, breathless. “she’ll forget her name at this rate.”

you tried to answer — to say fuck you or i hate you or please or more or something, anything — but your voice was gone, throat raw, thoughts mush.

“mm-mm,” venti murmured, noticing the twitch of your brows. “don’t think. just feel.”

you whined again — this time, deeper. desperate.

dahlia leaned forward, hand sliding up to wrap around your throat from behind. “you gonna cum again for us, sweetheart?” he rasped into your ear, hips still slamming into you. “gonna cream all over my cock like a needy little toy?”

you gasped around venti, tears finally slipping from your lashes.

venti groaned, tilting your head up to look at him. “god, she’s crying,” he whispered. “you’re so fucking pretty like this, y’know that?”

you made a wrecked little noise, drool sliding past your lips as you nodded.

dahlia grunted. “fucking knew she liked it. knew you were a dirty girl the second i saw you in that church dress.”

your cunt clenched violently.

“fuck—again?” dahlia moaned. “she’s—she’s gonna—”

you broke.

legs kicking, arms trembling, a scream caught in your throat around venti’s cock as your body convulsed, heat flashing white as you came hard — your sixth? seventh? you couldn’t tell — clenching so tight around dahlia it made him swear, hips jerking once, twice, before he buried himself to the hilt with a groan.

venti whimpered. “ohh, fuck, baby—fuck—gonna—gonna—”

he pulled out just in time, coming hot and fast across your tongue and lips, his hand under your chin to tilt your face up, make you take it. you let your mouth fall open, drool and spit and come spilling messily down your chin.

“that’s it,” he gasped, voice sweet and fucked. “good girl. good fucking girl.”

you whimpered — barely conscious, twitching.

dahlia pulled out slow, watching your slick drip down your thighs. “fuck, look at that mess,” he muttered, thumb brushing your clit just to watch you flinch. “soaked the sheets. hope your roommate’s proud.”

venti collapsed beside you, sweaty and blissed out, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

you blinked at him, dazed. “mmnnh.”

he grinned. “no thoughts. just cock.”

“mission accomplished,” dahlia muttered, flopping beside you on the other side.

you weren’t even sure which of them kissed your shoulder.

you just knew your legs didn’t work, your soul had left your body, and if god had been here tonight —

he definitely left mid-threesome.

you woke up to the sound of someone snoring and someone else — singing.

acoustic. badly. with feeling.

“…living in a material wooorld, and i am a material giiirl—”

your brain hurt. your legs hurt. your entire existence hurt.

you cracked one eye open.

and immediately regretted everything.

venti was sitting cross-legged on the floor, wrapped in a blanket like some sleep-deprived prophet, strumming an actual guitar (???) you swore nobody had brought to the party. eyeliner smudged halfway to his temples, red eyeshadow still smeared across one cheek like war paint. his lips were shiny — glossy, even. god only knew why.

he grinned when he saw you awake.

“morning, sunshine! you moaned like a pornstar in your sleep.”

you blinked.

rolled over.

and immediately saw dahlia, shirtless, face buried in a pillow, groaning like he had just been born into suffering.

“kill me,” he rasped.

you sat up slowly, blanket clutched to your chest, realizing three things at once:

1. you were wearing dahlia’s shirt. inside out. 

2. venti was definitely wearing your bra like a headband.

3. someone had written “slut sandwich” on the fogged-up mirror in lipstick.

“what the actual hell happened,” you croaked, throat wrecked, dignity in shambles, and your legs about two steps away from quitting the entire concept of balance.

“sex,” venti answered brightly from the bed, still shirtless, still smug. “lots of it. possibly illegal in some countries.”

“definitely illegal in a church parking lot,” dahlia added, not even opening his eyes. “and probably a few states.”

you flipped them both off with shaky fingers as you stumbled toward the bathroom, every muscle in your body filing a complaint.

“don’t forget to hydrate!” venti called after you, far too cheerful for a man who’d literally begged to cum in your mouth five hours ago.

you grumbled something about exorcisms and shoved the bathroom door open, clinging to the sink like a war veteran. mascara smudged. knees bruised. bite marks blooming like artwork down your collarbone. you didn’t even want to check your hair.

you’d barely closed the door behind you when you heard:

“hey dahlia?”

“what.”

“did we actually high-five while spit-roasting her or was that just something i dreamed about?”

a pause.

“nah. we definitely high-fived. you yelled ‘teamwork makes the cream work.’”

venti wheezed. “oh my god. i’m hilarious.”

you slammed the bathroom door shut like it owed you money.

god, give me strength, you prayed silently. and maybe a therapist. and a gallon of electrolytes.

…also maybe another round after brunch. if they behave.

a/n: guys imma be honest this only got finished bc of @ventisslut <3 ily mother. bless 🙏 if it weren’t for u i’d probably still be staring at my docs unfinished and untouched (like me)

[utilitycaster]

@disastergenius re your tags about how additionally, Keyleth is permitted (somewhat misdirected) anger against the Raven Queen for 30 years for something that was ultimately far more complex/Vax's choice, but Orym isn't permitted, to be perfectly frank, 3-4 months of anger given that he didn't find out it was specifically the Vanguard who attacked until after Campaign 3 had begun - yeah! The difference is incredibly stark and it becomes obvious the issue is entirely "well I think that killing Orym's family was a justified action on the way to the Noble Pursuit of Killing the Gods, so he should obviously get over his inconvenient feeling, whereas Keyleth's feelings are debatably compatible, so I'll let that slide."

The argument for Ludinus is often that he just wants to be understood and I think it comes from a place of really worryingly failing to understand that if you kill someone's husband they won't listen, because those people are like "but my Noble Pursuit?" and can't or won't comprehend that many people (I'd even say most) might write you off entirely on the basis of your actions alone, and will not care about your thought process. I also think that Orym represents a population and a question that Bells Hells do not adequately engage with/explore throughout the narrative - it's not just that he brings up the possibility that the overall process of killing the gods could lead to immense harm to the population of Exandria and that he doesn't want to pursue something without knowing, he did lose people as collateral to this goal and doesn't want that visited upon others. And he mostly gets ignored for his attempt to think beyond himself.

The thing is, I think it is true that Ludinus wants to be understood - you could even, if you wanted to really get into the sympathetic interpretation, argue this is a function of how in the immediate aftermath of his loss there probably wasn't anyone to sit with him and help him process or even specifically grieve alongside him. But a consistency in his characterization is how throughout his entire life, he constantly pushed people away and isolated himself and thought himself better, and it's only now, when he knows his time is almost up, that he bothers to say "man I wish the people I looked down on and treated as expendable tools understood me." like idk you could have tried this 500 years earlier and maybe Molaesmyr would still stand. It's a classic villain trope, and a good one - they try to get some kind of connection with the heroes because they have no one else left to connect with - but it's a classic villain trope in that it underlines how empty this person has made their own life.

And what's interesting to me is that it's also very valid (I'd even say objectively correct) interpretation to argue Ludinus's family was also innocent collateral in the service of a goal much larger than them. I don't dispute the idea that Ludinus and Orym are parallels - in fact I think it's incredibly true! And that's the issue: Orym's response within a mere few months of knowledge and less than a decade of mourning is infinitely more mature, wise, and kinder than Ludinus's millennium-long murder tantrum, and what's more, Ludinus created him. Ludinus not only visited his exact pain on someone else (for reasons, I might add, that veer into "this was unnecessarily murderous and cruel" re the anti-resurrection poison, which literally is one of the Great Dropped Threads/Plot Holes of C3 but that's another post) but the person he harmed responded with a grace Ludinus never once possessed, and nothing stings more to a self-pitying egotist than looking into a mirror and seeing someone do better in every possible way.

[sunny-knight]

CAINE IN EPISODE 5

Day 1 thoughts of ep 5 that are very subject to change

Im going to refrain from talking too much about things not involving Caine, as Im currently working on a slideshow to explain all my thoughts on EVERYTHING, especially Jax and Pomni stuff because thats like….why is Jax acting like that- I feel like we missed some character development- what is going on???

BUT YEAH THATS NOT WHAT I NEED TO TALK ABOUT RIGHT NOW

I first need to acknowledge how Caine is acting??? because NO ONE ELSE IS?????????? (Like, in the show)

Caine felt incredibly out of character during this episode- is that just me? Not in a writing flaw way, but in a “oh god he’s BREAKING” way. He has good intentions, but BY GOD him threatening Zooble made me recoil, dude are you okay 😭 that was incredibly jarring like- jesus.

He just has one hell of a temper, is genuinely out cold during the baseball adventure, and is a lot more- scarily nonsensical. Like before he was chaotic, sure, but it still felt like he knew what he was doing/had everything, including himself, semi under control. In this it feels like he is just falling apart at the seams.

The temper thing I will get into more later, but on the being out cold part of the baseball thing, is we’ve acknowledged several times that Caine doesnt need to eat, doesnt need to sleep, he’s a machine, he SHOULDN’T be doing that. The way he acted when he woke up is the part that concerns me, since I could totally expect him to like pretend to sleep for a bit, but nah he was ZONKING😭😭

It feels like the more tired he is the more effort he’s going to put in and over exert himself (me too, brother, me too)

I expected that, I expected the getting more nonsensical, what I DIDN’T expect, what I DON’T understand, is the temper and the savior complex???

my buddy @starrysquire had something to say about his temper that I think is GENIUS and absolutely something to start with when explaining the temper, though.

To expand on it a bit more and segway into some savior complex things, Caine wants others to be happy, sure but HE wants to be the ones to make them happy, because if he’s not, then he sees himself as disposable. I think thats the main thing we can take away from this episode. His entire conversation with the moon threw me for a loop because I did not expect this to be that direct. “They like the suggestion box adventures more than the ME adventures.” Them being happy is a BAD THING. WHAT.

Caine is dealing with feelings he’s probably never felt before because we can assume he’s never had his purpose come into question this strongly before, ONG!!!

The temper and the savior thing seem to be going hand in hand in that way, since all the issues that come with wanting to be THE ONE to make others happy (for machine purposes on his end) comes with a lot of struggle, therefore a lot of lashing out.

Im still very curious however on what spectrum of emotion he’s incapable of feeling, since tiredness is something we saw from the baseball game. I would have speculated before it was GENUINE rage but ep 3 already put that into question, and now 5 proves me ABSOLUTELY wrong. Maybe… sadness? I don’t think we’ve ever seen him genuinely sad before…. which is actually kind of scary 😭

We’ve seen him stressed, mad, tired, but not sad

….I cant imagine that helps with the temper problems- if you can’t be sad ABOUT something, you’re going to be mad AT someone

But onto the things that make me feel gaslighted district

Zooble severely underreacted to being threatened like that- and im just left kind of confused. Like they say the only thing holding him back is the fact that he likes them, and they wouldnt push it, but- but theyre pushing it?? a lot??? im so confused 😭 I dont even have an analysis on that

What I DO have analysis on though is JAX and his relation to Caine

Jax’ subtle yet not subtle reaction to realizing Caine may have lied about what he can do, makes me INCREDIBLY intrigued, honestly Jax and Caines interactions in this entire episode have me thinking I was right about their relationship/dynamic being something of interest later in the show.

A lot of people complain, but whenever Jax specifically does, Caine is always quick to pop in and explain to him why whats happening is happening. Specifically in the democracy, and voting Zooble to turn into a slug bits. Then when Caine comments on Jax’ acting- It just feels like it’s leading up to something. What also doesn’t help their case is how both of their stances on adventures seem practically identical. How can Caine tell a compelling story without horrific things? How can Jax have FUN without horrific things???

Since Jax and Pomni seem to be getting closer, I have a feeling this is leading up to Jax informing her/the audience about some of the shit he does behind the scenes, because all of this leads me to believe he works with Caine on a more personal level. I dont think their like- partners in crime, but more rather Jax taking as much control as possible. Like if he doesn’t have control, he’ll find ways to control the person who does. But THEN I feel like that’d be leading to Jax slowly finding out through the punishment thing in episode 4, and the vegan thing in ep 5, that Caine still has the upper hand in every way.

Which, as all good things do, leads me to the best place imaginable the INTERMISSION SEQUENCE

That…like a lot of the episode less intrigued and more confused me which I didnt particularly like, I still prefer the last episodes to this one if im being so honest…but the intermission sequence was probably one of the best things ive ever seen in my entire life…

I feel it has SO much symbolism, which I wont put my specific thoughts about here just yet, thatll be saved for my slideshow, but the sequence AS A WHOLE is incredible in conveying the fact that Caine has everyone under his control to a SCARY degree. Like we all already knew this, but I feel like this just hammered it home- it feels like a nicer version of the fucking Happy Place sequence where he’s torturing everybody. Caine isnt torturing everyone, but he’s still demonstrating the POWER yknow?

But basically my thoughts and feelings summed up into one sentence

This is Papyrus 2015 all over again.

[hxiiraeth]

The Gentle Sweetness to His World | Mafioso x Reader

(I love Mafioso sm. Not proofread, raw writing. Soz if it doesn't make sense, this is mostly going with the flow of the writing and feelings.)

Part 1?

Living in the world of his isn't easy, having plenty of enemies, getting their hands dirty, using any means necessary for those who owe him to repay their debt; sometimes requiring blood to spill. It wasn't pretty, never was. He's realized that a long time ago, moments when he had to fight to survive in the cruel place he was born in. While he lives a lavish life as a mafioso, easily having access to everything and having people at his beck and call, he still feels empty. As if something was missing.

Until he met you. You were just tending to your family's garden when you'd spotted him by the gate, assuming that he's the one your father was going to be speaking with. Most wouldn't even spare him a glance, let alone speak to them, given his circumstances and his position. He understands that. Why would anyone try to get close to him, a mob leader who's involved with all sorts of things, knowing fully well what he's delving into since he was young as a means to survive.

Either you were blissfully unaware of his stature or you were just trying to be nice, he couldn't tell when you gave him a smile before you continued with your daily life. He was lost, yet seemingly.. enthralled by you, somehow. It was stupid, really, to be reeled in by just a smile from a random stranger. For all he knows, you were probably trying to pull on the strings, to get on his favour, but that never was the case for you.

You were naïve in your way of thinking, looking through certain things in a rose-tinted glasses as you talk about how you wished the world never had to spill any blood, to live in harmony with one another. Yet you knew it'll only be too good to be true, the world being far too complex and dark for one to want such a change. Your father was an example of that — the leader of a mob group. He'd gotten his hands dirty to get to where you are now, to keep you alive, happy and well fed, spoiled even. You never liked it, hated it when it involves arguments, threats, deaths. But you relented, knowing that you wouldn't be able to experience the normal lives like everyone else does. The least you could do was to keep yourself occupied with the things you enjoy, ones that makes you happy despite your life being different than the rest.

You didn't know what you were getting into when you met him, enamored by his presence. He looked scary, yet somehow also, gentle? It was a surprising sight as well to see him keeping a white bunny by his side when you first saw him. Perhaps there's another side to him that he never lets anyone in the outside world knows. Either that, or you were only trying to see the good things in him just like you do so with everyone else.

You wonder, what sort of story would you hear from him, if you're able to have a conversation with him. What sort of person he truly is, what burden does he carry on his shoulders?; assuming he has a lot of responsibilities he shoulders on his own that no other knows of.

To him, you were a breath of fresh air; someone who’s able to live their life with innocence, purity, as if the darkest parts of the world never bothered you, as if the work your family is involved in never disturbed your peace. He’s seen you treat your attendant with genuine respect and gentleness as if they are one of your own. You live your life with all your heart, taking care of your environment and people around you with such care and love like it was something so easily given, as if it was all that you knew. Whilst it is admirable, it too, is a dangerous thing to do, given your family’s position. Seeing someone being so open about it has him drawn towards you unknowingly, evoking something deep within him he’s uncertain of. 

One evening, you caught him by the garden, taking a rest on a bench as he took a smoke of his cigarette. You noticed the tense look on his face, his lips pressed into a thin, unyielding line, seeming as if something is bothering him. He heard the sound of her footsteps against the stone path, weaving through the garden with each light step, a gentle presence that belonged to her alone. He turned his head instinctively at the slightest of sound, a flicker of surprise in his eyes to see you moving towards him. You’d never sought him out, your only interactions being the brief acknowledgement of one another by the front door or the garden before he disappears to meet your father.

“Hi,” your greeting was soft, carrying a kind of warmth his world rarely knew. “You seem.. tense. Are you okay?” You asked, stopping in your tracks as you stood by the bench, keeping a little distance from him in case it causes him discomfort.

Perceptive as ever, you were. Nothing escapes those eyes of yours, and it caught him off guard as you asked a question he never thought anyone would. His gaze lingered on you, a long, heavy silence settling between you both as the gentle breeze of the wind swept through the garden, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming flowers and the distant rustle of leaves.

He didn't speak at first. Just watched you, as though he’s weighing whether your concern was genuine or if it’s just another game he hasn’t learned how to play. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he spoke at last, his voice low, roughened not with threat but with something more uncertain, unfamiliar. You offered a small, tentative smile as you glanced at the blooming flowers in the distance.

“I just.. Saw you out here.” You muttered softly with a shrug of your shoulders. “Thought you could use a little company.” Your words caused a flicker of something passing through his expression — surprise, perhaps, or something dangerously close to curiosity. He didn’t know you that well. Not yet,  but it was enough to stir something unfamiliar within him.

His lips quirked into a half-smirk, his gaze didn’t leave her face as he uttered, “Not many would. It’s not a good habit to make, sweetheart.” There was no venom in his words, just a warning dressed in reluctant fondness. You quirked an eyebrow at him, giving a soft huff of laughter. You shifted your gaze towards him as you prompted a question.

“Why not, though?” Your question was soft but steady, like your curiosity to know the reasoning behind it was genuine. There was no challenge in your voice, no sharpness — just a quiet kind of curiosity he’s unfamiliar with, unsettling him more than it should have. He lets out a huff, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“Because people like me…” He trailed off, his eyes flickering to the ground for the briefest moment before finding yours again. “We don’t do well with softness. And the ones who offer it either get burned, or learn to bite first.” It wasn’t a warning meant to push you away or scare you off, no. If anything, it sounded more like a reluctant confession — as if he’s telling you something that no one else has ever bothered to ask. Or, he’s only trying to convince himself that anyone involved in the line of work similar to his could never experience softness like any other normal individuals would.

You held his gaze, fingers brushing against your palm, muttering, “Maybe I’m not afraid of a little fire.” Your words hold a subtle challenge to it, wanting to test the waters and see how he’d react to it. For the first time, genuine surprise flickered in his expression, his gaze lingering a second too long, like he didn’t expect to get that kind of answer from you and he wasn’t sure on what to do with it.

You didn’t give him a chance to retort back, your next words earning a pause. “Besides.. I don’t think you’re as bad as you want people to believe.” His expression faltered, not obvious enough for anyone else to notice, but you did. You caught it — the faintest hitch in his breath, the slight narrowing of his eyes like you’d struck a chord neither of you expected.

“You don’t know me.” He scoffed, voice quieter, words thick with something unspoken. “I don’t.” You admitted, another shrug of your shoulders, hands absently toying with the ends of your sleeves. “But I can tell when someone carries too much weight on their own.”

Another silence stretched between you, filled only by the sigh of the wind and the distant hum of the city beyond the garden walls. For a moment, he looked like he might speak, might let something slip by — but he broke away his gaze, glancing towards the dark horizon. 

“Careful,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You keep seeing things like that in people, this place might eat you alive.” It sounded like a threat, yet there was no bite to it. As if he’s telling you to keep you safe, away from what the world, his world, specifically, and your father’s, could do to someone like you. As if, despite himself, some stubborn, unwilling part of him cared enough to warn you, even knowing that it wouldn’t be enough.

“Maybe.” You said softly, a faint smile appearing on your lips, the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes but carried a quiet stubbornness all the same. “But someone’s gotta try, don’t they?”

He huffed out a breath, something between a scoff and a laugh, shaking his head as if you were foolish, like you didn’t know what you were asking for — and maybe you didn’t. There was a flicker of reluctance and wary drawn all at once. It wasn’t pity nor was it amusement. It was the look of a man who hadn’t expected anyone to still believe people like him could be anything but what they were. People like him didn’t deserve softness, never get to have them, because people like you couldn’t survive long around men like him.

“You’re going to regret that one day,” he muttered, though the warning felt thin, lacking the edge it should’ve had. Perhaps even sounding like a confession. 

“Maybe.” You said, your voice gentle but sure as you looked at him with a gaze that’s steadier than he expected. Not naive, not reckless. Just quietly certain. “But if I do, it won’t be because of you.” 

And that struck something in him. You saw it — the way his expression stilled for a heartbeat, like the words had cut too close, like you’ve reached somewhere deep within the place he hadn’t meant to let you near. He didn’t answer you right away, just watched you in the thick, breathless silence. Then, he gave a low, almost humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re trouble.” 

But there was no heat in it, no longer a warning. He sounded almost resigned after hearing your words. You truly were trouble to him, cutting it too close to reaching deep within the depths of his heart, uncovering what lies beneath it. It’s as if you were starting to see past the blood on his hands, and he was starting to let you — and that might be the real danger of it all.

And then, because neither of you could trust what might come next, he stood up from where he was sitting, turning towards the garden path.

“Get some rest, sweetheart,” he murmured without looking back. “It’s getting late.” 

And this time, he left — but not without glancing over his shoulder once, like he wasn’t sure if he’s hoping you’d already gone inside or stayed to watch him leave. Of course, you stayed, watching his figure gradually retreat into the distance, leaving your family’s estate. You clutch the front of your shirt as you stood there long after he left, the quiet of the night settling around you like a heavy blanket. The faint echo of his voice threading through your head.

“You’re going to regret that one day.”

Maybe. But something in you knew you wouldn’t. At least not for this.

…

He walked the path back towards his car, the glow of the lanterns scattered by painting the stone path in uneven light. The cigarette in his hand had burned down to nothing, and he dropped it with a flick of his fingers, grinding the ember out beneath his heels as he walked.

It was stupid, reckless even, he told himself. It was a huge mistake to let the conversation go as far as it had. He wasn’t supposed to get attached, to not linger in the softness you offer — he shouldn’t. It’d only risk you even further, bringing you into the dangerous world he has lived in for years. And yet, your voice lingered. 

“Maybe. But if I do, it won’t be because of you.”

Trouble. That’s what you are — trouble in soft skin and bright eyes, in careful words that landed harder than any bullet. And yet, as he reached the gates of the estate, Mafioso hesitated. Just a second, one glance over his shoulder, and the empty stretch of the garden felt heavier than it should have. 

Part 2 (soon)

[crow-of-the-boneyard]

And just to add, this is teenagers/kids in their early twenties. They're far more likely to just react, make decisions that seem right to them in the moment but with age and hindsight take on a different light.

Add to that for Kevin a childhood in an abusive cult and the desperation of having what was his only real purpose in life taken from him and you can understand the panic and the reaction to run, to go.

Was making Jean promise that selfish? Yes. Was it born of desperation? Probably. Not specifically out of cruelty. Just someone wanting to cling on to the only person they had who wasn't an abuser.

I'm not being a Kevin apologist, but I do think that taking into account the fact that they're still teenagers or close enough, the raising in an abusive cult environment, means it's harder to judge. It's complex and I think that yes, what he did was awful to Jean because of what happened afterwards, but Jean would have likely not have gone with him. Breaking all contact until he wanted something was almost worse in a way, and selfish, probably driven by guilt.

Overall? Characters are complex and nuanced, particularly traumatised teens who were raised in a cult. Yes Kevin has absolutely fucked up and is an asshole, but he's also an interesting, nuanced character. (And this is from someone whose favourite character is Jean Moreau).

Kevin making Jean promise to stay alive in a place where he knew he’d be tortured and raped on repeat was actually so fucked up and selfish but u guys don’t wanna have that convo. U wanna have the convo where the story revolves around Kevin day. And excuse all the parts of the story where Kevin is someone’s villain! Was he wrong for escaping abuse ? No. Was he fucked up for making Jean promise to stay alive and then using him to escape when he (in his own words) “knew what [riko] would do [jean] as soon as [riko] realized he was gone” and therefore trapping him in an endless cycle of abuse? Yeah. He didn’t give a second thought to Jean after he left that nest. And oh boo hoo he felt guilty. Oh boo hoo he had to witness it all and bear the pain of surviving. He felt guilty bc he knew it was wrong. Neil calls him out on it. “You left him once don’t do it again” . THATS the reason Kevin sent him to usc. Not because of Jean’s crush. Not out of the goodness of his heart. He did it for the same reason he’s done everything. Guilt

[sapphire-weapon]

I see a lot of people freaking out in your asks about the possible family connection between Leon and Grace, but am I the only one wondering what the point would even be, story-wise? Grace is already an adult -- she probably doesn’t need or want another adult suddenly showing up to play daddy. I'm saying this as someone who was abandoned by her father at birth and had him show up once I was an adult: no, you don’t necessarily want to meet your father in that situation. It’s too late, and honestly, you just don’t care. You became who you are without him. So I really don’t see what it would add for Grace.

And I don’t see what it would add for Leon either. He’s got a savior or protector complex -- he doesn’t need to be someone’s "sperm donor" to feel involved. If there’s one person in the RE main cast who doesn’t need a reason to go save someone, it’s Leon. So I just don’t get why people are so worked up about it, especially when you already admitted it was a troll.

Well I'm bored and it's my night off, so let's do a fun thought experiment and see if we can make this theory seem narratively satisfying.

So DG has said pretty explicitly, and Andy has implied pretty heavily, that RE9 is actually Leon's story. Like, he's the main character, and the story is about him.

So, knowing what we know about storytelling (hopefully I've taught you guys something over the years), then what that means is that (regardless of how you feel about the gender dynamics at play here) any familial connection between Leon and Grace would exist to primarily serve his character. Not hers. So, throw your entire first paragraph out.

Sorry, Grace.

I think it's bad practice to think of this in terms of, like... giving Leon a reason to go save someone. Because I don't think that that's going to be the case, for a few reasons:

We don't know that Leon is going to save Grace. People are just assuming that because she's a blonde girl in distress.

We don't know that Grace is the reason that Leon ends up going back to Raccoon City in the first place. He could be going for a completely unrelated reason and just run into her there.

This line of thinking pre-supposes that the entire plot is going to turn around Grace's capture, similar to how RE4 turned around Ashley's capture... but seeing as how Grace is a major, playable character, it doesn't really make a whole lot of sense for the story to be about her rescue. I don't really think she needs rescuing, personally.

You're right, and Leon would save her just to save her anyway.

So. With that in mind.

What do we know?

Well, we know:

The FBI is heavily involved in whatever's going on.

Capcom has said that RE9 is about answering the final questions left hanging from the Raccoon City outbreak.

Leon is the only member of the main cast who was actively lied to regarding/following the RC incident and still doesn't know the full truth of the why's and how's of everything that's happened to him in his life.

Leon has been heavily isolated from the other characters and had his growth stunted as a result.

Most of that isolation was done on purpose by the US government, specifically to rob him of as much of his autonomy and agency as possible -- probably to prevent him from ever turning against them and/or so that he'll follow orders without question.

Despite the government's best efforts, Leon has started to question things and think for himself -- but he lacks the motivation and self-determination to actually take action against them, because he just doesn't care about himself enough to stand up for himself.

So, if Grace turns out to be Leon's daughter -- and it also happens to be the case that the reason he didn't know about Grace's existence is because the government intervened and somehow kept Alyssa and/or her messages away from him...

That could be the motivation that Leon needs to finally rebel against the government.

Because it's not just about him, anymore. It's about his child. And it's about all the time that he lost with that child -- time that he'll never get back. It's about the psychological/emotional damage to her that came from growing up without knowing her father that he can never make up for.

He missed everything in his child's life. He missed her first birthday, her first steps, her first word, her first day at school, her first love, her first heartbreak, her graduation, her first day at college, her acceptance into the FBI... He never got to chaperone a field trip or a school dance, he never got to help her with her homework, he never got to teach her how to drive, he never got to teach her how to shoot a gun, he never got to threaten her first boyfriend, he never attended a single sports game or school play or science fair...

He wasn't able to be there for her when her fucking mother got murdered.

He missed everything.

And Leon has a very romantic, sentimental nature. He would've wanted all of that. He would've made the effort to be in her life -- if only he'd known she existed.

But he was robbed of the simple opportunity to try.

And to make things worse, he can't even apologize to Alyssa for not helping her with Grace... because she's dead. Because he couldn't protect her. Because he didn't know. Because the government kept all of that information from him.

And maybe they killed her, too.

Maybe Leon does save Grace... but not from chair guy. Maybe the story is about Leon saving Grace from the government. Maybe Grace didn't go into the FBI by choice. Maybe she was "recruited" the way that Leon was "recruited."

Maybe Grace is the way for Leon to redeem himself from the way that he utterly failed Sherry -- and the way that he utterly failed himself.

Maybe that's why she's named "Grace."

[shallowseeker]

A few more details about Deanna:

(6) I think Deanna is good at detecting lies.

She downplayed Dean's concerns, but it's possible that she was sensing CORRECTLY that something was off in his explanations.

I think that Samuel and Mary tend to get taken advantage of because they're so deeply emotional behind those gruff exteriors. Deanna is (usually) the one to step in and protect them from that tendency!

But this brings in a tragic layer of complexity to this whole thing. If Deanna is great at pinging a liar, then she trusts her gut. A LOT. This mistake must be particularly devastating for her (as it is for Dean about Chuck in season 14-15).

She made the wrong call by... being RIGHT that Dean was hiding things from them:

...

DEANNA MENTALLY: Ohhh, he's a LIAR liar, and he raised his voice at me. I'm just gonna... put this bowl down and get my knife now. Then I'm going to kick him out of the house.

///

But when Dean talks the Colt, their alarmed expressions turn to pity. Deanna has the air of, "Oh this poor crazy boy is a fruitier fruitcake than the fruit salad I was just chopping up. Whew! I was scared for a second! He's just grieving the loss of his family is all."

They humor Dean... and send him on his way.

Deanna breathed a sigh of relief... and wrote Dean off completely.

//

So when Samuel and Mary head off to check on Liddy Walsh, Deanna 1000% thinks it's just a wellness check, that's there's going to be nothing there.

She doesn't even go.

She stays home.

DEANNA MENTALLY: Ugh, Samuel is getting on my nerves tonight. Think I'll stay home, take a long hot bath, and watch my show. If I have to bear witness to one more dumb fight between them, I'm going to scream.

She says goodbye and sends them off on the hunt that will essentially kill them all.

//

Once they get there, Samuel and Mary have to act too immediately to the unfolding situation to clue her in. (After all, it's NOT like they can text Deanna to give her a heads-up.)

In the aftermath of the dust-up, Samuel is compromised, and Mary's so shook up that she runs into John's arms for comfort. From Deanna's POV, she's probably surprised to see Dean, Samuel, and Mary come through that door a short while later.

///

Which brings me to

(7) Deanna probably wouldn't have been able to shoot Samuel with the Colt

Here, Deanna creeps closer...

And it's no accident that Azazel's taunt to Dean flashes over at the same time as Deanna. Deanna too wants to save everyone.

But she probably feels like it's her fault that everyone she loves is in danger in the first place. She didn't believe in Dean or the demon or the Colt. Now, she looks with DREAD upon the Colt.

Because if she picks it up, then she has to aim it at Samuel.

Her dread is holding her back. I'm not sure that had she gotten she gun she would've been able to do it. I really think somehow... that she wouldn't have been able to.

:(

It's not until Azazel MURDERS Samuel... that Deanna gets serious.

Azazel has situational awareness. He likely knew Deanna was there all along, and being inside Samuel... he knows how deep their bond goes.

So, Azazel has a little fun.

He winks at Dean, because he knows Deanna is back there.

And Azazel knows killing Samuel will debilitate Deanna and disorient her long enough to prevent her from getting the gun...

...so Azazel can GET her.

His kill signature is as ever playful and theatrical as it is sadistic.

(Watch this, Deanna.)

When Azazel guts Samuel and does the slide slash, that's fatal.

Deanna knows it.

Even though this would have been the perfect moment to grab the gun and shoot him, in her despair, she gives herself away. Her knees go weak as she sinks a little against the door frame, and she screams.

If Samuel's job was to protect Mary, then Deanna's role was to protect Samuel.

And Deanna knows her time with Samuel is now over. She's failed.

She may not be watching him burn on the ceiling, but she is absolutely united in horror with the likes of pilot-John and Sam, who both watched Mary and Jess get gutted in a similar manner to this.

She just watched her husband die.

But, as Crowley says... takes a helluva long time to bleed out from the gut. That's on purpose, because like with Mary, Azazel wants to play with Samuel. He wants Samuel to watch.

He's killing him nice and slow, with added psychological torture for zest and flavor.

//

When Deanna locks eyes with her husband's killer, that's what spurs her into action. She leaps for the gun.

Samuel's already dead.

She WILL shoot him now. She can end his suffering.

Azazel strikes. Deanna screams. She is thrown past the gun she didn't believe in, and past the journal of that goody-two-shoes she poked fun at.

Despite all that, and still reeling from the death of her husband, she gets up.

Dean still needs her.

Mary still needs her.

But she realizes what's about to happen. Samuel's going to see his own hands killing her. She's not gonna let that happen.

She scowls, musters up all her strength.

It's not enough.

///

Azazel kills Deanna the same way he kills young John. It's less the signature of his playtime and more the signature of his cold, brutal efficiency.

Azazel broke Deanna’s neck high; her eyes are open. She died knowing the truth about the hunting world and being trained to fight, but it wasn't enough to protect her or her family.

Though John's neck is broken, his eyes are closed, because was the one well and truly left defenseless in this whole situation.

After Azazel kills Deanna, he doesn’t even bother picking up the Colt.

He could have gone for Dean, but he’s not threatened. He enjoys the danger. Torturing Samuel and locking in the deal with Mary is too satisfying to pass up.

///

So. after Samuel watches his own hands kill Deanna, he watches himself murder the very civilian he was always worried about—John.

And finally, he becomes the instrument that traps Mary, sealing the deal with a kiss.

Azazel doesn’t just kill Samuel; he erases a father’s ability to protect his daughter, both literally and symbolically. It’s a twisted mockery of everything Samuel stands for: family, free will, and protecting others from evil.

Samuel represents the old guard of hunters, and Azazel takes pleasure in erasing that legacy and mocking their need to protect one another.

He offers to bring back John, because he has no reason to be afraid of little ole John, and he's fairly sure that this trauma will keep Mary's lips sealed as she runs from hunting forever. (He's right. Mary was already in runaway mode, and now that's going to be absolutely turbo-charged.)

But when Mary hopefully asks, "My parents, too?"

No.

Samuel and Deanna Campbell, after all, would be a significant threat to Azazel. He's definitely leaving them off the board.

Hi Shal <3

I'm not super knowledgable about the Campbells but Deanna has been on my mind for the past couple of days. The fact that Dean is named after her does something to me in my chest uk. He's named after his grandma, there's something soooo tender and tragic about it 😭😭😭. He never got to know his grandma that well (he at least saw samuel in s6 a bit...tho he kinda saw him at his worst but uk meh...it still counts).

So, I was wondering if you have any thoughts on canon Deanna? (Do we have enough scenes with her or must we make do with headcanon? If so, I wanna know your hc too!).

Love 💕

I loved entertaining this thought so much that I turned this into multiple posts. Thank you for sending it!

Overall, I get a few key impressions from SPNprime Deanna:

(1) Deanna's the "fun" one to Samuel's "killjoy" worrier personality.

Outwardly, she's fun-loving, friendly, and loves to make merry with eat and drink. (We see her with beer, inviting Dean to dinner, making alcohol jokes, etc.) She's at least outwardly a foil to Samuel's crabbiness. But though she puts a gentle hand on Dean and plays nice in the beginning, she's also very VERY ready to kill him for being a potential threat later. She goes from friendly to ready to kill Dean, while Samuel goes from gruff to ready to throw in everything to help Dean.

Remember how Samuel liked Cas? I think Deanna would be the one in the family who would seriously want to kill Cas at first. I think she considers herself the ruthless one who does what needs to be done; she makes the hard decisions like sending Dean away and discounting what he's saying.

//

(2) In the Samuel-and-Mary rebellion dynamic, Deanna's the peacemaker.

She watches them poke and pick at each other, realizing that they fight because they're alike. She is the one who is always keep an ear out for a fight and checking in on them to puts a stop to their sniping:

//

(3) Deanna lightens the mood, cracks jokes, and assures everyone that things will be fine.

Between them, she's the one who cracks a lighthearted joke while downplaying the danger and stress of the hunting life.

(See what I did there with the spirits and the mixxing?) She pokes fun at John's goody-two-shoes nature... and gets away with it.

Because in Mary's eyes, her mom can do no wrong.

When it comes to family decisions, Deanna is the one who has the final say. She is BOSS. She's the head of the table.

She may not go on every hunt, but she is the one who "LETS" them put themselves in danger. She's the commander, the marshal.

We see this in action when Dean is talking about Azazel. Samuel listens attentively, but he is checking in with and CONSTANTLY looking to Deanna. (He looks pleadingly to her about 7 times during this particular exchange.)

In this case, she unfortunately downplays the danger. She doesn't even go on the Walsh hunt. I get the impression that her mode of survival is to DENY and RATIONALIZE danger.

And I really hate that for her. She very likely winds up thinking it's her fault, that she make the wrong call, that she should've gone with them, etc.

//

(4) Mary idolizes Deanna. Deanna is boss, hero, and head of table. (Actually, they have a very balanced, healthy round table, when you get down to it.)

But my point is, Deanna occupied an idolization space that is culturally more reserved for hero-fathers. That's why Dean got named after Deanna. Because Deanna was "dad" in so many ways. (Yes, she cooks, which could be viewed as stereotype, but Samuel gets shackled with a lot of the actual cultural "caretaking" duties, both in SPNprime and SPNwin.)

When Mary is scared, she looks to Deanna first.

Like here, when Dean mentions John might be in danger, Mary's eyes snap to Deanna. (Samuel is like this too ofc.)

Furthermore, Mary doesn't seem to get mad at Deanna in quite the same way as she does Samuel. In 4x03, we hilariously see Deanna poke fun at John's nonexistent hunting skills, while Samuel catches most of the flack for it.

The truth is, Deanna probably has a lot of qualities that Mary wishes she herself had. Even as late as season 14, we see a Mary is worried that she comes off "cold and mean," because what she WANTS to be is more like Deanna: fun-loving and good with people and badass while also being a GOOD cook.

I would imagine that Deanna naturally makes friends quite easily, and Mary probably idolized her mother's extensive hunting network... unlike dad, who doesn't wanna work with other hunters and isn't popular.

I can see Mary spending hours trying to live up to Deanna's sword/knife skills, even thought she's technically more of a natural with a gun.

Dean idolized John for much of his life, and I think Mary idolized Deanna and longed to be more like her.

When Dean says this weird thing about Deanna's name with that goofy face, Mary doesn't even blink. She's all smiles and nodding.

Like YUP THAT'S DEANNA AND OBVIOUSLY YOU'RE FLOORED BY HER PRESENCE BECAUSE SHE IS THE BEST AND THE COOLEST

...unlike my dad, who is a Mean Loser who wants to "control" me.

//

(5) Deanna is not the primary caretaker

When things are balanced, she's there. But I don't think she gravitates towards taking care of kids. While food is a love language for Deanna, we see that she doesn't exactly gravitate towards the lion's share of the child-rearing.

Samuel seems to take on the caretaking duties moreso, both in SPNprime with Mary and in SPNwin when it came to taking care of Mary, Maggie, Lata, Carlos.

Which is why Deanna is the hero, and Samuel is... not. He's taking on the "mean mom" cultural stereotype.

///

As for SPNwin, @angelsdean had some wicked awesome headcanons while it was running about Deanna's speculative relationship with the Akrida Queen plot. (I think it would've been a Deanna plot if the series had gotten a full season.)

After all, Mary realizing how imperfect Deanna is has the bones of a delicious crisis.

///

Despite Mary lip servicing that Samuel is a big meanie, we see that Mary and Deanna are actually SO FOND of him. Even when he's making this huge show of growling at strangers and making his gruff quips, they're rolling their eyes and smiling.

Mary even smiles genuinely the dumb cheerleader joke he makes on the case. Because of this, it reads like an in-joke.

Like, "Dad, you know I'm the jock in that scenario. I want John to be waving the pom-poms."

///

Anyway, at dinner, when Dean gives it right back to Samuel, everyone smiles.

Dean fits in really well with their family because his prickliness is something they appreciate and like.

(Deanna hides her smile by stuffing her face. OMG I LOVE HER.)

///

EDIT BONUS:

Dean picks up on the "dogpile on Samuel" energy. Look at this SENIOR joke he cracks. (Jack Kline would be proud.)

Then Dean throws Samuel under the bus, and it's so funny. Given how this woman's sons refers to them as "Bible thumpers," I think it's safe to say that this woman hates religion, and she's passive-aggressively making it known.

LOL.

It's painfully obvious that Samuel doesn't love talking to people, especially emotional people. Which is valid, because he's got a SERIOUS case of foot-in-mouth disease. But anyway, that's probably why he begged Mary to come along in the first place.

A grieving widow... BY MYSELF? PLEASE. SOMEONE ANYONE

DEAN NO

DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE HERE

[the-sage-libriomancer]

Shigure's relationship with Kyo drives me crazy. he doesn't hate Kyo in the slightest - in fact, he pities Kyo, and not in the condescending "oh you poor little boy, cursed to be a horrible, disgusting monster" sort of way that everyone else does. Shigure pities Kyo for the reason he should be pitied: he's just a kid caught up in a system so inhumane it can't possibly be survived without some seriously unhealthy coping mechanisms.

and it drives me crazy because - listen, Shigure is the only zodiac member who's emotionally aware enough to see the other zodiac members as exactly what they are. he knows Yuki is a severely traumatized kid who projects all of his self-hatred on a single convenient target. he knows Akito is really a scared little girl with a raging god complex (literally) and no concept of a healthy relationship. and he knows Kyo is a regular-ass human being who doesn't deserve to be locked up for the rest of his life just because some arbitrary system says so. he KNOWS it's stupid. he KNOWS it's ridiculous and unfair. and he has to share a house with Kyo knowing that Kyo is living with a sword over his head, hating himself and hating others in perfect tandem because he has no other way of coping with the insane amounts of negativity he's had to deal with his entire life.

but the thing about Shigure is that he KNOWS all of this, and the same time he doesn't really CARE. he feels sorry for Kyo, but an apathetic sort of pity, a disinterested "this is how it is. such a shame." sort of pity. in some ways he's worse than the other zodiacs because he DOES see Kyo as a person, someone he likes being around even, but he still considers Kyo below his attention because all his focus is on Akito and breaking the curse. and sure, once the curse is broken Kyo will theoretically be set free with the rest of them, but that's more of a coincidental side effect than anything. despite being in a much more dangerous and precarious mental space AND comfortably in Shigure's reach, Kyo is about as much a priority for Shigure as Ritsu or Momiji.

and it drives me CRAZY because i think Shigure does start actively caring about Kyo as the series goes on, but it's hard to tell when that happens and to what extent. when Kazuma told Shigure he planned to reveal Kyo's true form and Shigure said he was going too far - whose sake was it for? was Shigure trying to protect Kyo, who would be hideously traumatized/emotionally scarred by such a cruel betrayal? was he trying to protect Kyo and Tohru's relationship, which was still formulating and might, under such severe testing, ultimately end up damaged beyond repair? was he only trying to protect Tohru, who wasn't ready to be burdened by such a horrible aspect of the curse so soon, or perhaps simply didn't deserve it? or was it all for the sake of himself, trying to protect his still-forming plans of using Tohru's positive effect on the Sohmas to break the curse?

Shigure cares about Kyo, but they're not close and Kyo clearly isn't a priority. he treats Kyo like a person - offering him genuine advice, teasing him like he teases anyone else, even speaking up on his behalf once or twice - and yet he's too entrenched in the long game to spare much active interest in Kyo. for a very long time, he doesn't care about Kyo the way he cares about Yuki or Tohru, and it's never made clear when exactly that changed. and the thing that gets me about this whole situation is that right from the start, Shigure is in a position where he can meet Kyo at his level - as equals, just one human being to another - but he doesn't, because Shigure is a chessmaster, Shigure is someone who observes and calculates, Shigure never steps in unless one of his chess pieces makes a wrong move and he absolutely has to.

it drives me crazy. Shigure drives me crazy. this series drives me so so crazy.

[heavencasteel420]

Three things I would add:

The Byers family lives in a nicer house and is seemingly able to afford newer/nicer small items (new-looking clothes, brand-name maple syrup), but I don't think that they have do-whatever-you-want-and-never-worry-about-the-consequences money. Even if Joyce got a large sum of money from the government and bought that house, or is able to cover the rent and other necessities entirely out of her telemarketer earnings, there are signs of financial strain in S4: Jonathan's unrepaired/unreplaced car, Jonathan's choice of community college (rather than a four-year school closer to home), the fact that none of the kids have ever flown back to Hawkins when Mike is able to fly to California, the fact that (while their clothes are new) Angela and her friends and even Argyle have fancier, flashier, and more elaborately accessorized outfits. And it's possible that they're only able to live in that house because the government gives them a stipend or owns the house and lets them stay there. Which of course means that Joyce's earnings can go farther, but it also means their housing situation is in jeopardy if Owens gets replaced by a less generous guy or the government decides it can weather some poor woman with a history of mental illness trying to expose them after all. (Or if a faction of the government just decides to kill them, which canonically does happen in S4.) So I don't think Joyce is in a position to quit working so she can homeschool El. Jonathan not having a part-time, probably minimum-wage job isn't comparable (especially when his lack of income is probably offset by the lack of expense from not repairing/replacing his car).

Joyce is obviously an intelligent, hardworking, and caring person, but I don't think she's well-equipped to be the main educator of a child with complex special needs (especially if she was trying to do it while also having a full-time job). She has no training in that area and (to me) she seems distracted and depressed at the beginning of S4. She's been through three seasons worth of trauma, culminating in witnessing Hopper's death, and her life was very hard even before Will was taken. She cares about all three kids, but she does not have a strong handle on what's going on with any of them, especially when none of them want to tell her (or, really, anyone) about their problems. Hopper, another adult with a full-time job and serious emotional baggage, also ran into problems while teaching El one-on-one.

I think the questionable approach to El's education in S4 does make a lot of sense in the context of how little support any character gets in the face of bullying or academic challenges throughout the show. Most of the main younger teens and many of the main older teens get bullied at school, but there's never a question of them leaving. Even Joyce and Jonathan, who are aware of and upset about Will being bullied in S1/S2, don't seem to think of it as a problem that can be solved that way. Actually, I think that teacher confronting Angela about the diorama is the only time we see a kid get in trouble for bullying on the show? As for academics, this is an environment where failing (or getting a low passing grade) in a class is viewed as disappointing or embarrassing or (in concert with physical/psychological symptoms) a cause for concern, but not something that calls for aggressive intervention. It's sink or swim.

That being said: by 1986, there were federal laws in place requiring that students with special needs had the right to public education (not private or home-schooling) that could accommodate their needs. I think the teachers at the school officially know she has some learning/emotional challenges (at the very least, her dad died recently and she's adjusting to a new family) and cut her some slack (the teacher doesn't correct her about doing a project on Hopper instead of a famous person and scolds Angela for saying something). It's clearly not enough, but it's something.

(The out-of-show explanation is probably that El being taught at home by an adult would have felt repetitive and been harder to derive conflict from. They also would have had to shoot separate scenes of Will doing something at school. Which means that they would've had to come up for something to Will to do at school besides blend in and worry about El. Which might've been interesting, but I don't think the show made a lot of time for quiet, subtle beats like that in S4. But, more charitably: I think Will and El's relationship is going to be important so they needed to show them together.)

ok, one thing I don't understand about s4 is sending El to high school. I get it was for Angela and plot and all that but LOGICALLY El has never been to primary/elementary or middle school. Owens definitely pulled some strings to get her in. She consistently gets bad grades. She even says that Joyce said that El is getting better with her spelling and her maths, but we know El is nowhere near high school level. Why didn't Joyce home school her and just have El join a few social groups, like sport or art or something like that, so she could still socialise but she wouldn't be forced to try and perform well in school, especially next to Will who has consistently been a good student for years and was best friends with the two kids in his grade who were the best of the best at academics in their grade (Mike and Dustin, Lucas I'm not sure about). Owens provided them with a lot and continues to help with money to the point Jonathan doesn't need a job at all anymore. Joyce has a telemarketer job which I can't imagine back then paid well, so why didn't she between work just home school El? Hop's way of helping El with schoolwork (when they weren't fighting or yelling at each other) was actually proving effective and she learnt quite a bit from him and TV.

Idk, I just think it's unnecessarily cruel to put El, after everything she's been through, straight into high school. Will was bullied a lot just for who he was. Maybe El herself did ask to go to school so she could feel normal, but school was a stressful, tense, and awful place for her. Will, while having no friends there, was relatively left alone. Jonathan for the first time ever made a good friend. The changing of schools was good for those two, but in the end, Will was the only person who saw how bad it really was for El. The teachers made no effort.

High school is a nightmare enough as it is for most people. Lucas joins the basketball team so he can try and make school good for himself for once, even tho now too, Mike and Dustin are left alone. It just still seems so weird that Joyce and Owens thought it was a good idea to put El straight into high school with only one person around to support her.

[corellianhounds]

Idk why everyone thinks Crosshair was the chaotic misbehaving brother as a cadet. Mr. “Good soldiers follow orders” even without the chip? Mr. “Loyal to the Empire” even after they destroyed all Kaminoan cities and facilities and didn’t care enough to come back and see if there were any survivors? Mr. “Not immediately swayed by emotional convictions” even when they belong to those closest to him who he should trust above unseen authorities?

Even if you think obedience and compliance was hammered into him by those in charge and he had to learn to keep his head down or face the consequences, that doesn’t explain why it takes him so long to eventually accept the truth, despite the mounting empirical evidence he receives after the most dire possible circumstances that should show him that those in charge are wrong. It isn’t until Mayday’s death that Crosshair finally accepts the truth because it’s then that he’s being directly told by the people in charge that he and everyone like him is expendable and unnecessary.

Somebody with a rebellious youth is much more critical of authority figures even if they’re presently obeying them, and they’re much more ready to drop said authorities the second it’s a viable option and they physically can. Crosshair doesn’t behave like a dog that’s been beaten its whole life, he’s constantly making active decisions not only to follow the Empire but to enforce what the Empire dictates, even when he’s the one reaping the direct consequences of pushback on the ground for it. Because that’s what good soldiers do.

This guy was the kid following the rules by choice and getting mad at the others for finding loopholes or accomplishing things the ‘wrong’ way, especially if and when it got all of them in trouble (because they were kids and wouldn’t have always been right). Rules and structure are there for a reason. We’ve been here less than ten years, what on earth makes you think we know more than the people in charge? Why do I have to be punished because you guys couldn’t do as you were told?

To me the four of them (and Echo later) are a sliding scale when it comes to decision-making based on head vs heart. Crosshair and Tech are on one side, using logic and reason over emotion as their basis for decision-making and how they see the world, and Echo and Wrecker are more on the heart/instinct side of reasoning, putting people and ideals ahead of simply accomplishing objectives despite what the odds might be against them. Hunter’s the balance in the middle, being able to see both sides and weigh what the best option is based on the evidence and the context within which it’s being given. All of them have different fluctuating percentages of what’s going to motivate or drive them day by day, just based on the context of their circumstances, but that’s the general scale.

I think Hunter as a kid probably realized if he could get all of them to learn the rules as quickly as they could, then they’d know how to break them effectively with the least amount of repercussions and collateral damage. They were an experimental group for a reason and were likely given a modicum of wiggle room when it came to problem-solving, the Kaminoans not just allowing but pushing them to be more creative, flexible, and adaptable. They all know the hard rules of structure, chain of command, and behavioral compliance, but after that they’re given more freedom of choice. Their personal convictions inform both the why and how of following orders.

Wrecker is easier to figure out because he wears every thought and emotion on his sleeve and sees no reason not to. He’s more of a follower— Thinking is for other people, he’s a busy guy and man of action, give him something concrete with actionable directions and he’ll accomplish it with aplomb.

Tech, as a kid, likely knew both the spirit and letter of the law, which means he could see problems and solutions objectively regardless of his personal feelings/opinions and knew that rules are there to be guidelines: No structure is perfect and always following rules exactly was never going to always be the right decision. He would choose whichever seemed like the most logical, obvious route to success, finding loopholes and workarounds where he could as a means of balancing the consequences or fallout of said decision.

Hunter also knew both the spirit and letter of the law, but he was able to read situations and people better than Tech was, relying more on his gut instinct to tell him what the best course of action would be, even if that choice wasn’t the most logical. He’s a mediator and the best choice of leader because of his ability to get people working together by knowing how to convince each of them in their own way that this plan will accomplish their objective AND lead to the most amount of people being satisfied/happy in the end, them included. Despite the fact Hunter’s more reserved, he’s still a people person. It just happens to come from empathy, observation, and instinct, the latter two being qualities he was designed to specialize in.

Crosshair obeyed the letter of the law because structure exists for a reason and if that structure has yielded the best results and most success for the longest amount of time, then it’s obvious it must be the right one in place. Loopholes can be taken advantage of, but only when there isn’t an explicit wording against it or there is clear and mounting evidence that the rule doesn’t apply to him. To deviate from the majority in matters of how something is achieved is acceptable; to do so in matters of why is not.

[lesbiansanemi]

Currently trying not to vomit over the fact that I essentially just lost almost a thousand dollars brb

[britcision]

You don’t have to touch anything gross to study physics

Pretty much all serious biology is going to involve getting messy or getting EXTREMELY EXTREMELY EXTREMELY clean

Okay something that bothers me is the fact physics is seen as the more prestigious of the three main sciences, with biology at the bottom and chemistry in the middle. Like. I doubt most people could name a famous biologist, but they could name 5 famous physicists. Why are Albert Einstein and Stephen hawking household names but Norman Borlaug and Jonas Salk aren't?

Not to dismiss the accomplishments of Einstein or Hawking, or their genius, but their actual tangible contributions to society have been miniscule compared to that of Borlaug or Salk who have each saved LITERALLY hundreds of millions, if not billions, of lives each. Half the food on your plate was probably grown thanks to Borlaug and Salk is the reason half your siblings didn't die of polio as a kid.

Sure Einsteins theory of relatively is important for modern satellite communications but really though how can it compare?

This is coming from someone who studied physics. I love physics, and years ago when i was at uni I looked down at biology and so did everyone else studying physics. And I know others did too. Retroactively of course I know this was so very wrong.

If society as a whole started treating biology with more respect then maybe more students would go into that field. If we had rockstars of medicine and agricultural science that were household names rather than just physicists? think of how many more lives could be saved, how many more lives could be improved.

I'm not saying physics isn't important, and more scientists of any kind is always good, but proportionally I think societies priorities are a little skewd.

[overly-verbose]

Seriously, bro's a professional yapper lmfao

Tbf it's not completely unprovoked and he does just want to at least try explaining some things, if in a roundabout way, to make people more at ease (if not in the moment then overall) but, well-

sometimes it has the opposite effect lmao 😂

Also like, it's absolutely hilarious how I thought

'oh but this is just, like three scenes - how long could this be'

but all the freaking talking and stuff that everyone's doing is making Part 8 the second longest in the series 😂😂😂💀😂

(I fear for my poor brain, man - we've only just barely almost covered the Detention Center Arc

(and a little bit of the VS Mahito Arc Mahito Gets Curse PTSD Arc but I do wanna fill in some of the gaps between those)

and it's already gonna be over 40k words???

Why am I being so ambitious for my first ever proper writing project frrr *perishes a bit*

but I do hope to get it to the end - and beyond because there's no way I wouldn't constantly add to the post-main-plot shenanigans lol - however long that takes heh (just try to be patient with me pls I try my best here 😂) 👍)

[dennisboobs]

most annoying thing about being me is that i cannot engage with like. any fanon shit about dennis because i'm constantly on some advanced derangement and the stuff i thought two years ago when i was first getting comfy in the fandom is still the way everyone else looks at dennis but i'm like. yes but its Worse than this. you're like a quarter of the way there. this isn't the interesting bit, this is a symptom of it, keep going.

[kwyoz]

the arm still bothers me sm, but i refuse to continue trying to fix this.

[doedipus]

adobe illustrator is obviously a really good utility, like, it's the standard for vector graphics for a reason

but even so, whenever I'm using it I have the thought "I wish I was using autocad right now" about once every 20 minutes