#but even just the holding her accountable and not punishing the other guy is so rare

[krirebr]

Caught Up in Your Trap

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You spend your first day in your new home. Part of the Trapped AU.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, human trafficking, drugging, training, punishment, isolation, injury, forced intimacy - Just trust me when I say that this is dark. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: Oh my god, you guys. Uh, happy sin day, I guess?? 🤣 Because I am apparently incapable of just leaving a one-shot alone, this is a prequel to I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas spurred by some unhinged 4 AM thots. It is definitely the darkest thing I've written so far. Whoops.

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who was not only the fantastic sounding board she always is, and let me ramble on about all my research into furnaces of all things but also helped me figure out the title for both this fic and the greater AU it's now a part of (🤦🏻‍♀️ Seriously, Kris, just stop!). Hat tip to Bruce Springsteen for both, as well. I'm sure he'd be thrilled. 😂

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Andy pulled up at the address he’d been given, more surprised than he should have been that it was an abandoned warehouse. Of course, this sort of deal would be completed there. He should have known from the sorts of channels he’d had to go through to set it up. Connections left over from his days in the DA’s office. Well, that wasn’t the side of the law he was on anymore. 

He walked into the large open space that made up most of the building to find a man standing in the middle of a few folding chairs. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and was wearing sharp but tight clothing. He wasn’t who caught Andy’s attention, though. No, that was you, slumped over in one of the chairs, wearing the clothes you must have been taken in. Even like this, he could tell your pictures hadn’t done you justice. You were absolutely perfect. Or you would be, once he was done.

“Barber!” the man called out, a satisfied smirk raising his mustache. “How nice of you to join us!”

“Hansen,” Andy answered evenly. He nodded at you, “She ok?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Just on enough horse tranqs to move her across the country without her realizing it. She’ll only be out for another day or so.”

Andy walked over to you. “I’m sure you don’t mind if I check for myself. With the amount of money I’m paying you.” Hansen gestured for him to go ahead, so he placed a gentle hand on the pulse in your neck, pleased to feel that it was strong and steady. He took a step back and opened the untraceable banking app on his phone. He clicked the transfer button, moving an ungodly amount of money from his numbered account in the Caymans to the account Lloyd had given him. “Alright,” he said, “the money’s in your account.”

The other man snapped his fingers and someone appeared out of the shadows, holding a tablet. “And I’m sure you don’t mind,” Hansen said as the new man tapped his screen, “if I check for myself. With the amount of work I’ve done for you.”

They all waited in tense silence for the confirmation of the transfer to come through. Andy couldn’t take his eyes off you, eager to finally get you home. After everything he’d been through, this was what he deserved. The perfect wife, the perfect family, the perfect life. And he was going to do it right this time, taking full control until he had exactly what he wanted. Nothing left to chance. It was costing him a pretty penny, but it was worth it.

The man with the tablet nodded at Hansen, who clapped his hands together. “Alright!” he said. “Let’s get this done. My men will get her settled in your car while we finish up.” Two more men came out from the edge of the room and started to put their hands on you. Andy couldn’t help the growl that came out of him. Hansen laughed. “Don’t worry, Mr. ADA, they won’t hurt your precious new wife. You have my word.” 

Andy gave a hesitant nod, as they carried you out of the warehouse, clicking the unlock button on his car fob so that they could get you settled. He didn’t take his eyes off you until you were gone.

Hansen reached down and picked up a thick folder. “Everything you’ll need is in here. Everything for her new identity, all in order, all immaculate. Marriage license. Anything from her old life you might need. Although I’d get what you need from those quickly and then burn them.” 

Andy took the folder and briefly paged through it. New birth certificate, social security card, IDs, passport. Everything he’d need to start your new life. He put the folder in his briefcase. “Thank you. Anything else?”

Hansen smirked again. “Eager to get started?” He leered in the direction you’d disappeared. “Can’t say I blame you.”

Andy cleared his throat, not appreciating the way Hansen was talking about what was his. “Yes, I would like to get us both home. Are we done here?”

“Sure sure. You have a good time now,” he smirked.

Andy gave him a curt nod and then exited in the direction Hansen’s men had taken you. There was no sign of them by his car, but you were laid out across the backseat. He opened the door and leaned in to brush a gentle finger across your cheek. He wouldn’t be able to relax until you were secured inside his home. It was so close now.

This wasn’t your room. You’d woken up some time ago (you couldn’t say how long ago exactly. There were no clocks, no windows) in the most comfortable bed you’d ever felt. You thought it might swallow you up, it was so soft. Luxurious. The whole room was that way. Beautiful. Rich. You were dressed in a satin nightgown that wasn’t at all like anything you owned. You tried very hard not to think about the fact that someone must have changed you. The door was locked from the outside, a small keypad right under the doorknob. You tried banging on the door. Yelling for someone. Nothing. A quick exploration of the room hadn’t yielded anything either – the two other doors were also locked, a dresser held only men’s clothing. So you’d spent the last who knows how long just laying in the bed, trying not to panic or cry. You weren’t very successful at either.

The most disturbing thing you’d discovered since you’d woken up here was the set of rings on your left hand. One featured a large diamond, the other was a simpler band filled with comparatively tiny diamonds. The bands were fused together like you remembered your mom’s engagement and wedding rings being. It took a long time to normalize your breathing after that discovery.

Just as you were about to drift asleep again, for want of anything else to do, you heard a few soft beeps, the lock click, and the doorknob move. You leaped up and huddled in the far corner of the room between the wall and the bed, holding a pillow in front of you. There was nothing else in the room to use to defend yourself. Even the lamps were bolted down – you’d checked. 

The door slowly opened and a man walked in. He was tall, over 6 feet, and broad. He had dark, soft-looking hair, and a well-kept beard. He wore a gray cotton tee and jeans. If your adrenaline hadn’t been spiking, you would have found him so handsome. But as it was, you pushed yourself further into the corner.

He was carrying a tray, which he set down on one of the nightstands. From your vantage point, you could see a glass of water and a bowl. You weren’t feeling inclined to take anything from this man.

Your eyes cautiously tracked him as he came around to the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice deep but gentle.

You didn’t say anything, just kept watching him. He leveled you with a stern look that sent a chill down your spine. His voice was much more rigid when he said, “I expect an answer when I ask a question, sweetheart.” 

You ignored him again, instead asking, “Who are you?”

He took a deep breath, flexing both hands. Extreme irritation passed over his face before it was replaced with a practiced calm. He sat at the foot of the bed and patted the space next to him. “Come sit,” he said. You didn’t move. “Now,” he growled. Something in his tone made it clear, not only that he would move you himself if he had to, but even more so, that you didn’t want it to come to that. You got up and sat on the far edge of the bed. He reached over and grabbed your arm hard, dragging you into his side. You cried out but he shushed you. “Alright,” he said, “I will answer your question once you answer mine. How are you feeling?”

This was the most scared you’d ever been. You had to take a few deep breaths before you were able to say. “I have a headache and I’m a little nauseous. And I’m very scared.”

He gently took your hand in his and cooed at you. “That’d be the drugs they used to knock you out. You’ll feel better when they’re completely out of your system. Eating will help. You can have some soup once we’re done talking.” He paused, for what you didn’t know. You didn’t say anything. He smiled. “You can ask your question now. Good girl waiting for permission.” 

Your head swung to look at him. That hadn’t been what you were doing. Had it? You were woozy and scared and just trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. That was most important, so you let his comment go and repeated your question. “Who are you?”

He squeezed your hand. “I’m your husband, sweetheart. My name is Andy.”

That was the answer you’d been terrified of since you’d seen the rings on your finger. He was fucking crazy. He had to be. The best you could do right now was to get as much information out of him as you could. “And where are we? Is this your house?” You were trying to keep your voice steady, but you could hear the tremor in it.

“This is our house, sweetheart. Just outside Boston.”

Your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up in panic. “Boston?? No– That’s– How did I get here?!” This was even worse than you thought. You were nowhere near home, nowhere near anything familiar.

He just looked at you for a moment with narrowed eyes. Then he nodded and said, “Ok, I’m going to be honest and explain it to you, because I think it will help you understand your place here. But in the future, you need to know that I don’t appreciate having to explain myself. Good wives don’t question their husband's actions. Now, since I’m going out of my way to make this clear for you, I expect you to sit quietly and listen. Can you do that for me?”

You clenched your hands into fists, wanting to rage at him for how he was speaking to you like a child, but you knew you needed this information. You needed everything you could get if you were going to get out of here, so you tried to control your breathing and nodded.

He looked at you like he wanted to scold you for something, but then visibly changed his mind and began. “I’ve had a hard life, the last few years especially, I’ve been through a lot. Things haven’t turned out the way they were supposed to. I wanted a family. I thought I had one, but– It wasn’t how it was supposed to be, and then I lost even that. I wanted to try again, but I couldn’t put in all that effort without a guarantee that I wouldn’t wind up with nothing again.

“I’m a lawyer. I used to work as an ADA and now I’m in defense. In both jobs, I’ve made a lot of connections with people from different walks of life. Through that, I found a man who provides a service – if you let him know what you’re looking for, he’ll find you a person who fills those needs. So I told him that I was looking for someone to build a family with, a good wife. He presented me with a few options, and I chose you. For a hefty price, his men picked you up and brought you here. They also put together all new paperwork for you, a whole new identity. The old you doesn’t exist anymore, do you understand? You’re Mrs. Barber now, property of your husband. I bought and paid for you. I own you, every part of you.”

You saw his hand start to move toward your thigh and you jumped up, quickly pressing yourself against the wall. You just stared at him for a moment and then the panic truly hit you, but this time, it was accompanied by blinding anger. “That’s human trafficking, you complete fucking psycho! The fuck is wrong with you?!” Once you’d started screaming, you couldn’t stop. “You can’t just buy a wife, you fucking cuck! I’m a person! People are going to look for me!” He stood up and came at you and you swung out with your fists, your nails, your knees, whatever you fucking could. You connected a few times, drew a grunt from him before he somehow pinned your wrists behind your back. You screamed as loud as you could, but it did nothing. 

He frog-marched you out of the room as he said, “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this so soon, but you need a timeout, honey. Some time to calm down in the quiet room, and then we can try again and go over the rules. You just need some time to think by yourself.”

You tried to pay attention as he pushed you through what looked like a little apartment: a living room, a kitchenette. He stopped at an innocuous-looking door with a keypad on it, just like the one in the bedroom. He turned you away so you couldn’t see as he entered the code, one hand still keeping your wrists in a bruising grip. Before you’d even realized he’d opened the door, he was shoving you into the room so hard you briefly left the ground. The door slammed shut behind you. You hit the floor hard and groaned. You stumbled up onto your hands and knees. You heard another beep, then the grinding of a lock. Then nothing.

The room was pitch black. You weren’t even sure where the door was now, as there wasn’t any light coming through the cracks. You crawled around, trying to get an idea of the space. It was small and empty as far as you could tell. But there was a low rumbling noise that seemed to fill the room. You couldn’t pinpoint the source just from listening, it felt like it was coming from everywhere. The floor under your hands was bare, concrete. Your hands brushed through cobwebs and other detritus you couldn’t see. You cautiously held a hand out as you continued to try to map out the room, terrified you’d smack your face right into the wall. It made contact with something hot and sharp. You pulled it back with a hiss, pain radiating through your palm. You felt the first few wet drops. Shit. You were bleeding. You’d cut yourself. Fuck. “Hey!” you called out as loud as you could. There was no answer. “Hey!” you tried again, “I’m hurt! I’m bleeding!” No response. “WHAT THE FUCK?” You were screaming now. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! LET ME OUT!” Nothing. God, this room was already lightproof, maybe it was soundproof, too. He wouldn’t be able to hear you, wouldn’t know you were hurt. You couldn’t tell how badly you’d cut your hand so you raised it above your head, hoping that might at least slow down the bleeding. It was dirty you were sure. God, how long did it take for cuts to get infected? You hoped you wouldn’t find out. You didn’t even know what you’d cut it on. What if it was rusty? Shit, when was your last tetanus booster? You couldn’t remember exactly. Fuck. You really didn’t want to die from tetanus in some random basement in Massachusetts. A tear rolled down your cheek. He couldn’t leave you in here too long, could he? No. He would come get you soon.

You had no idea how long you’d been sitting in the dark, your knees pulled up to your chest, one arm wrapped around them, the other still held in the air. Your shoulder was so sore, but you were too worried to lower your hand. You wished you could see the cut, know exactly how bad it was. You wished you knew how much time had passed. With no frame of reference, no external indicators, you were afraid you’d lost the ability to tell the difference between hours and minutes. It’d been hours. It had to have been hours. How long was he going to leave you here? He had to come back soon. He had to. You took some perverse comfort in the fact that he’d spent a lot of money on you. That had to mean that he wouldn’t just leave you here. He’d want a return on his investment. You tried to ignore the chills that thought gave you.

You’d been crying on and off. It made you feel pathetic but what else were you supposed to do? The panic, too, ebbed and flowed. You’d been trying to keep your breathing even, trying to ignore how small the space was, how dirty, how dark. Deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. It wasn’t doing much to calm you, but at least it gave you something to focus on. 

Just as a fresh wave of tears overtook you, a blinding light came in, directly opposite you. You squinted and raised your uninjured hand in front of your eyes, but that didn’t do much to help.

“Oh sweetheart,” Andy’s voice cooed, before gently lifting you by your arms and herding you out. He half-carried you through the finished part of the basement while your eyes continued to adjust. Before you knew it, you were back in the bedroom you’d started in. He gently sat you down on the edge of the bed and crouched in front of you. You felt dazed. The room was too bright. You didn’t know how you could keep breaking the record for the most scared you’d ever been. There had to be a ceiling, a limit. You’d hit it soon, wouldn’t you? 

You still had your hand raised and cradled to your chest. Andy touched your wrist and you flinched. He raised an eyebrow in question and you whispered, “I got hurt.” He sighed and gently tugged at your wrist again. This time you let him guide your arm down, moving your hand so you both could see it. It was a little grimy and definitely red, slightly swollen maybe. There was a little dried blood, but not much. The cut was so much more shallow than you’d imagined when you were trapped in that room alone. You felt incredibly foolish. You’d thought you were going to lose your hand over a glorified paper cut. 

Andy carefully moved his thumb over a raised patch under the cut that you now realized was a minor burn. “Did you touch the furnace?” The furnace – that’s what’d been making that noise. That’s what you’d cut yourself on. That’s where he’d thrown you. What the fuck? You were lucky you hadn’t hurt yourself even worse. You looked up from your hand to see him frowning at you. “Why would you do that? Sweetheart, you have to be more careful. That was a very stupid thing to do.” He got up and walked into the ensuite, opening a cabinet under the sink.

Was he seriously scolding you for getting hurt in a dangerous room he’d locked you in?? The rage from earlier was starting to return, but it was still tempered by your fear. You did your best to keep your voice even when you replied, “It was completely dark in there. I couldn’t see anything.” A little growl came through your words, but it wasn’t anything compared to what you were actually feeling.

He came back holding a small first-aid kit. “Well then that’s a good reason to keep your hands to yourself, isn’t it?” He sat down and opened the kit, pulling out a few wipes and beginning to somewhat roughly clean your hand. “Sweetheart, I’m here to take care of you. That’s my job as your husband. But I need you to be a good girl and not put yourself in harm’s way.”

“You threw me in there!” you said, your voice starting to get louder, despite your best efforts to keep calm.

“Because you were bad and needed a time-out!” he yelled back at you. He threw the dirty wipes into the trashcan beside the bed and took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. He grabbed an ointment from the kit and began applying it to your hand. “That’s why we’re going to talk about rules now. They’re there to keep you safe and both of us happy. When you don’t follow them, something like this can happen.”

You didn’t say anything. You had to be smart if you were ever going to get out of here and antagonizing him wasn’t smart. He didn’t seem to expect a response anyway as he just silently placed a bandage on your hand and then got up and put the kit away. He came back and sat right next to you, turning so he could look into your eyes. You tried to turn your head away, but he grabbed your chin and forced eye contact. 

“Alright,” he said, his tone already so fucking patronizing. “A good thing that came out of your little tantrum is that now we know the areas we need to focus on most for improvement – manners, respect, and attitude. I did some thinking during your quiet time too, and I’ve adjusted your training schedule to focus on these things. It’ll be good for both of us.”

What the actual fucking fuck? “Training schedule?” was all you managed to get out.

Andy nodded. “I’m sure you’ve figured out that we’re in the basement right now. I have a beautiful big house upstairs that I can’t wait to show you. But you’re going to have to earn it first, prove to me that you know how to be good, that I can trust you before we can go upstairs. That’s what the training will do. I’m going to teach you exactly how to be perfect for me, everything I want, and in return I’m going to give you a perfect life, so much better than what you had before. We’re going to be so happy together, sweetheart. I promise.

“Now, it’s going to take time. I understand that. And I’m going to be patient with you. I know what your life was like before. I know that you probably never expected that you’d ever get to have this. Change can be scary. Dreams coming true, it’s scary. But I’ll be here to guide you through it all. I’m going to give you everything and all I ask of you in return is that you be good for me. That’s all.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to sob. What the hell was this? How could this man, this stranger, be so completely deranged? Be smart, you chanted to yourself. Be smart be smart be smart. And if you opened your mouth now, you knew exactly what would come out. So you kept it shut and let him continue.  

“So first, let’s talk about your tantrum. I don’t appreciate being spoken to that way. The language and the names, it’s unacceptable. So, no swearing going forward. And I think a good rule for you while we’re downstairs will be for you to address me as Sir. Once we’ve moved upstairs, you’ll be allowed to call me Andy, but whenever we’re down here, it’s Sir. Do you understand?” He looked at you expectantly. You clenched your jaw and nodded. “I expect a verbal response when I speak to you, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you gritted out. He raised an eyebrow at you and his gaze hardened. It took you a moment to realize your mistake. “Yes, sir,” you corrected yourself.

“Very good. As your husband, I expect you to give me the respect I deserve. That’s something we’ll work on. It’s very important that you don’t question me. I know what’s best for you and you need to trust that I will give you whatever information you need to have. If I haven’t told you something, it’s because you don’t need to know, ok?”

He paused again. What kind of Stepford hell was this? What had you done to deserve this? You took a deep breath. Then another. And another. Then, finally, you were able to force out a “Yes, sir.”

He smiled. “You’re so smart, sweetheart. You’ll be upstairs in no time. Now, you’ll start learning your routine tomorrow. I’ve taken some time off work for our honeymoon, so I’ll have plenty of time to get you settled and acclimated. We’ll go over wardrobe and makeup requirements in the morning too. Now,” he slapped his thighs and stood up, “your soup from earlier went cold, so how about I go get you a fresh bowl while you take a quick shower and get all that dust and grime from the Quiet Room off you?”

You held back a grimace at him calling that room that, as he walked over to one of the other doors and unlocked it. He talked to you like you were a child. All of this was so fucked up. But a shower sounded incredible. You had no idea how long it’d been since you’d had one. So you just nodded and let out a quiet, “Yes, sir.”

He beamed at you. “Everything you’ll need is in the bathroom. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

You stood and waited til he was out the door, listening to the beeps and grinding locks once he was gone. Shit. You were really fucked. You went into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. There was no lock on the inside. Of course, there wasn’t. 

You didn’t waste much time in the bathroom, desperate for a hot shower. You vaguely registered that the counter was stocked with all sorts of beauty aids – expensive lotions and serums like he’d bought out a department store beauty counter. The shower too, was equally well stocked. So much fancier than the Target sale items you usually stocked your bathroom with. But the shower felt incredible and that’s what you chose to focus on. 

When you were finished, you came out of the shower to see that the bathroom door was open. You could hear Andy moving around in the bedroom. You shuddered and quickly wrapped a plush towel around yourself. There was a fresh nightgown waiting for you, soft pink, all silk and lace. You grimaced and wondered what you’d need to do to get a pair of sleep shorts and an old T-shirt to sleep in. Probably more than you were willing to do, if it was even possible. You dried off quickly and slipped the nightgown on. 

When you exited the bathroom, he was sitting on the bed, the tray of food sitting next to him. There was a bowl of soup and a cup of water, along with a small plate with a few crackers. The dishes and utensils were all plastic. Nothing you could hurt him with. You sat down and watched him carefully as you lifted the tray onto your lap. He didn’t say anything so it must have been allowed. Your hand shook as you brought the first spoonful up to your lips. The soup was warm, not hot, certainly not scalding. Another hope dashed. Throwing it at him would only result in him getting wet. And angry. Not worth it. 

As you ate, you realized just how hungry you actually were. The nausea from whatever drugs you’d had had covered it up, but you were starving. You barely even tasted the soup, you just needed to eat. God, how long had it been since you’d had food? You wouldn’t bother asking Andy. You knew he wouldn’t give you an answer.

After he watched you eat for a few minutes, he said, “What do you say, sweetheart?”

God, he used that word like it was your name. It made you want to scream. You swallowed down all your anger and a spoonful of soup before you said, “Thank you, sir.” 

He gave you a satisfied smile. “See,” he said, “I knew you had good manners.”

You shoved the spoon into your mouth to prevent any sort of comeback. This fucking asshole. Luckily he let you eat the rest of your meal in peace. But he never took his eyes off you.

Once you were done, Andy put the tray on the dresser and then declared it bedtime. You watched him cautiously, as he went to the dresser and took out a pair of boxers and a cotton tee. He changed right in the middle of the room and you turned your head away. You caught flashes of skin, that if he’d been anyone else, in any other circumstances, would have had you drooling. It was becoming hard to breathe again. What else would he demand from you tonight?

You chanced a glance back up at him to find him changed and staring at you. You swallowed nervously. “Come here,” he said firmly, holding his hand out to you. You slowly, so slowly, made your way to him. As soon as you were in reach, he grabbed your elbow and pulled you the rest of the way in so that you were nestled into his chest. “I know,” he said, stroking one hand down your back, “that we’re both thinking about our first time together, but I’d like to wait.” He ran the fingers of his other hand down the strap of your nightgown, slipping onto your bare skin. “Give you a chance to get fully adjusted. Give us both a chance to get to know each other.” His voice slipped down an octave as his fingers traveled across your chest. Your body bowed to get away from him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. “Give us a chance to enjoy each other.” His breath hitched as his hand traveled down to your breast, the other hand on your back had stilled, holding you close, stopping you from getting away. He moved his head as close as he could to yours and whispered, “I want it to be special.” Then, before you could try to back away, he was kissing you. It was firm and demanding, giving you no option but to let it happen. He angled his growing erection into your thigh, and with the way he was holding you, you couldn’t lean away from it. His tongue forced its way into your mouth and you couldn’t help the way you whimpered. It felt like it might go on forever, when he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m so happy you’re mine,” he whispered. 

And then he was out of your space, leaving you trying to breathe again, alone in the middle of the room, as he climbed into the bed. You just stood there, unsure of what to do, your lips still tingling. Once he was settled on the side of the bed closest to the door, he called your name. “Come to bed now,” he said, and there was no mistaking it for anything other than an order. You ducked your head and climbed onto the bed, terrified of what might come next, but also desperate for sleep. This day had left you exhausted and confused and scared and so angry. It was all too much.

You tried to lie down as close to the edge as you could, but he pulled you in close so that your back was flush to his front, his arm thrown over your waist. “I'm so proud of you,” he whispered into your hair, “getting through your first day without having to go to the punishment room.”

Your mouth went completely dry. A room you hadn’t been to. Somewhere worse than the quiet room. “What's–” your tongue struggled to form the words. You took a breath and tried again. “What's the punishment room?” You caught yourself at the last minute and added a quiet “Sir.”

His hand caressed your side. “You keep being my good girl and you won't have to find out.”

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @foulpersonahandsvoid

[receivingtranny]

just saw a post saying that men shouldn't be allowed to become therapists because they *will* rape women/girls or at best... mentally ill women and girls *will always* catch inappropriate romantic/sexual feelings for a male therapist (not even gonna touch the flaming pile of internalized misogynistic shit lying within the later statement) and just...

what the fuck you guys.

like yeah fuck the "not all men" attitude that's just a fucking scapegoat abusive men love to say for why they never hold themselves or other men accountable, but actually *genuinely* saying all men will rape and abuse if they became a therapist does nothing to offer solutions that will actually make therapy safe for people.

because i'm sorry but i've had nearly 40 therapists in my life and unfortunately i've had a mix of really harmful experiences from both male and female therapists. the best therapist i had was actually nonbinary. the second and third best were male.

i've had both male/female therapists try to convert me to christianity and say my illness was god punishing me for sinning. i've had female therapists enable my father to continue being sexually/psychologically/physically abusive under the guise of "you're probably just being a dramatic teenage genderfuck" they didn't say genderfuck but they definitely thought my queerness had given some reason for why my dad should be the one to help "get me on the right track".

so i ask you radfem bioessentialists, in your utopia without male therapists, what's your solution for people like myself? multigender/nonbinary people who are seeking therapy, or *gasp* perhaps even schooling to become a therapist? do i get a female therapist because i was AFAB? or no since i identify as a man and have a penis now I must be planning on raping her so i'll need a male therapist. but wait, i'm AFAB and i identify as a woman so he must be planning on raping me. so another multigender AFAB person i'm guessing? wait but if i identify as a woman and a man... and they identify as a woman and a man... who's the one planning on raping the other in this situation? I just wanna make sure I know what to do here, being part man and all, is it in my nature to rape her? or is it his nature to rape me? or do we just rape ourselves all the time since we're both men and women simultaneously.

sorry not to sound like an asshole there at the end with the sarcasm, but like, i was human trafficked for several months and am now severly agoraphobic and even i'm not this terrified that everyone i meet is going to rape me. so idk man. get a grip? have some compassion beyond yourself? some critical thinking skills maybe?

[bobbydagen24]

Trolls overall has a Big problem with the idea of Holding people accountable for their actions.

here's a numbered list of examples of what I'm talking about.

Cloud Guy in the Tv shows not only because he Harasses Branch most of the time with no consequences but also because Poppy goes out of her way to defend him even when his actions cause trouble for many other people.

like when he flooded the village just out of spite because Branch wouldn't do what he wanted anymore and not to mention how even when she found out that he also Harassed other people from each of the Troll Tribes she still took his side and got mad at them when they stood up for themselves and "" upset Cloud Guy "".

which even if it hadn't been revealed that it was all an act by him just to mess with them it would still make Poppy look bad since she Refused to do anything about his Blatant Bullying yet got mad at his victims when they stood up for themselves.

and not to mention made excuses for why his behaviour wasn't so bad making out like he only Harassed them because he was trying to help them which is just all kinds of wrong.

2. a lesser example but still a bad example imo is in the Trollstopia episode where Dante uses Branch as his muse and he stalks him breaks into his home and disrupts his daily Jobs which he does.

and when he goes to Poppy for help she makes out like Dante's behaviour is reasonable and tells Branch to suck it up.

and after Branch does something to get Dante to back off Poppy then gets mad at him when Dante isn't able to come up with any music ideas like that's somehow Branch's problem?

Dante needed help but Rather than ask for it he just went ahead and took it by invading someone's privacy.

and breaching their trust and then Poppy made out like Branch was wrong for setting down Boundaries with him which is just iffy to be honest feels like this episode was written by Joe Goldberg or something lol.

3. and there's Creek as I've said in the past I love him lol but I do agree that his Return in TBGO could have been done better where he could have had a little arc of slowly earning back people's trust maybe over the span of a few episodes.

4. some people like to go on about the Bergens being forgiven too easily and I agree to an extent but given how Gristle Jr couldn't exactly punish the majority of the population I don't think they really had much choice in this matter.

I feel the only problem is them acting all chummy with the rest of the Bergens like letting them off for killing their species is one thing but acting like friends with them is a whole other like staying friends with Bridget and Gristle is fine given their history and the fact that they were too young to have eaten any Trolls prior to the escape.

but acting friendly with the rest of them feels a tad insensitive like in the opening of TBT we see Branch and Poppy acting all chummy with Random Bergens and Branch even High fives a couple of them and I was just thinking to myself

"" dude they probably ate someone's loved ones in the past how would you feel if you saw other Trolls giving Chef a friendly High five? ""

5. anyway moving on there's Barb who enslaved countless people destroyed their homes and tried to wipe out all other kinds of music and she was let off in the end.

its not even like she had a last minute change of heart she literally just got beaten and that's the only reason why her plan didn't succeed and afterwards she was just instantly forgiven.

6. Bro zone I've already talked about them in Depth in the past but yeah unreliable selfish insensitive and at worst cruel not to mention they never truly change their ways.

they keep on doing the same crappy behaviour and they don't show that much remorse for their past actions yet they still get forgiven in the end Despite everything.

because yaaaay family is amazing even if they Treat you like shit over and over again.

the films message feels like it was written by a toxic parent to please other toxic parents to be honest which judging by how this film won over general audiences I'd say it worked like a Treat lol.

so yeah Despite my love for it Trolls overall as a franchise has a serous problem with actually Holding people accountable for their crappy actions and Behaviours I feel the only exception is Veneer as even tho his turn at the end felt Rushed and out of nowhere imo.

I was pleasantly surprised that the movie didn't just let him off the Hook and he still got arrested and accepted the punishment for his crimes in the end.

I feel the same thing should have happened with Barb given everything she did.

anyway if you've made it to the end of my post thank you you have the patience of a saint lol anyway what do you think about this aspect of the franchise?

[lgbtlunaverse]

I'm chewing on this and my thoughts aren't fully formulated yet but i have been having Thinking about and jgy and his definitions of harm and his moral framework and generally he seems to very much come down on the side of consequentialism- what with him considering himself as having "murdered" qin su when her death was unambiguously a suicide. But she killed herself because of things he did, so even if he never wanted her to die or took actions toward that, he considers himself as having killed her.

And yet every single time he is confronted about his actions, he is incredibly quick to emphasize that he had no choice, he didn't really want to, there was just no other way out. It's a complete 180 from the motive not mattering at all to it mattering a LOT.

And that has led me to me believe that when he's talking about his lack of choices he's- the uncharitable might call it lying for sympathy, but that's not it, jin guangyao does sincerely believe he had no other choice (except, as nmj so nicely put it, sacrificing himself) but he's also not defending himself with full sincerity. It's more that his motive doesn't really matter much to him as a matter of morality, but he knows it matters to other people. He is not genuinely defending himself and arguing he doesn't deserve blame, he is arguing he shouldn't be punished. There seems to be a very strict barrier in his mind between accountability in the moral sense (what does he hold blame for) and in accountability in the practical sense (What punishment should he get.)

Which makes perfect sense for a guy who is well aware that the justice system will never actually be just for him. That any punishment levied toards him within the legal and politcal system he lives in will primarily be because of who he is and who his mother was and not because of what he actually did. Yes he thinks what he did was wrong yes he thinks that is morally repugnant no he shouldn't get punished for it.

And well. I don't agree that people should just get away with mass murder because the judicial system sucks but... is he wrong? I mean, what did him in at the end? Payment for his actual crimes? No. It was a lie that was believed just because he was the one being accused.

[gege-wondering-around]

Characters talking about Derek

What I mean by this is when sometimes, throughout the show, someone said something almost unnotible or that almost no one would really give much tought about Derek, but nothing rude or bad, just some 'complimentes' you might say.

Satomi

Like in 4x7, during the virus outbreak and Satomi is in the hospital with Derek, Deaton and Melissa.

Sorry, I just noticed how much you remind me of Talia

She said this while looking at Derek, and he looked down for a second.

Maybe she saw something in him, not only the resemblances with his mother, maybe she saw Talia's morals and values is Derek before he did himself or anyone else. Maybe she meant Derek could be like his mother: someone you can got for advice and guidance, someone you can rely onto but that will hold you accountable.

And maybe Derek looked down cause he would never think of himself that way, he would never see how much of his mother he has inherited (and not his beauty or stuff like that) and how much potential he's holding within himself, but Satomi sees it and can't help but smile and be a bit sad. Smile because there'll be someone like Talia - guidance, relyable, strong and respected - and sad cause Talia isn't there anymore and because Derek never really got the change to learn a lot from her.

Yet Satomi complimented him kindly, hoping he would eventually be somehow like his mother.

Chris

In season 6B, when he's asked if he 'believes in werewolves' as if they are legends, he says this:

I believe in Derek Hale

which might just be a way to reintroduce his character in the show, but let's give it some depth.

Chris have seen Derek go from 'bad' to good guy, and he also knows (if I remeber correctly) that Derek 'goes around bringing justice' - let's put it like that.

Chris is not a man to believe in legends and superstitions, that's why he believes in Derek. He's very much real and maybe to Chris, Derek is someone who knows justice (and before anyone says something, everyone has different views of it, I know) and who actually does something to ensure it in the world, even if just in a small part of it.

Derek gives his life at risk to ensure other's justice and put himself up as a jury and decides the verdict. And maybe Chris sees in this someone worth believing in, deserving to be believed and not as a legend, but as someone who does something.

Noah

Of course I have to put what the sheriff says about Derek in the movie.

I have never seen anyone take the kind of punishment that Derek Hale took… And kept taking… In order to protect the people he loved.

Maybe Noah sees half of what Chris sees but also someone who knows love and sacrifice, not only justice and maybe even revenge.

To the sheriff, Derek is someone willing to risk his life endlessly to save those he loves, arriving to the point that he completely sacrifice himself and dies.

He loves his people, he does it with his whole heart and Noah knows it, he knows Derek Hale, who lost everything time and time again, would give up his life and did it to save other people, leaving his son behind to save him (along with others too).

Noah knows Derek's heart, how resilient it is and how much love it holds.

Stiles

So, Stiles had not really 'complimented' Derek, he was more 'protective' of him.

"I have given a lot of benetifs to a lot of people" "Like Derek?" Scott & Stiles

Stiles freezes for a second, he did give Derek the benefit of the doubt and he had to fight to prove he wasn't the bad guy, he never really saw Derek as someone 'completely evil'.

To Stiles, Derek is just another person who went through shit and had to deal with it on his own, he knows Derek isn't evil, he knows it by heart cause he trusts him with proof, Derek's worthy of trust to Stiles' eyes while Scott gives his trust to everyone regardless of them deserving it.

"Did Scott try to kill you on the full moon? Did you have to lock him up?" "I did handcuff him to a radiator, why? Would you prefer I locked him in the basement and burned the whole house down around him?" Chris & Stiles

Stiles stands by Derek's side and doesn't accept the hunter's way of handling things - even if isn't aware that Chris didn't do it - and say it straight in his face. Stiles sees the cruelty Derek had to endure, not simply cause he lost his family, but also because the hunters trapped them and burned them alive.

Stiles doesn't agree with such cruelty and anger, he understands Derek somehow, they both lost some family memebers and since the whole Hale family's death wasn't necessary to Stiles' eyes, he's angry for Derek.

Also, even if in this Stiles didn't say anything, he did something very meaningful:

He didn't have to say anything, while everyone went to Boyd's body, he went to Derek. He knew Derek didn't want to do that and felt guilty for his death despite he was forced to do it. Stiles choose Derek.

Stiles saw Boyd's body and Derek staying still, and decided to comfort Derek, standing by his side and 'grounding' him.

But then we also have when Stiles' jeep broke down in Mexico.

BRAEDEN: Scott, we need to get there by night. It's too dangerous, otherwise. STILES: Go. SCOTT: Not without you! STILES: Dude, someone needs to find Derek. We'll figure something out. We always do. STILES: Just go.

What I want to say here is that Stiles won't give up on Derek nor the jeep and he risk it all for both, somehow he does while caring for Derek, pushing the others to go and find him before it's too late.

So, at the end, what I want to say is:

All these characters talked of Derek as someone worthy of trust, who know justice, love and sacrifice, someone not everyone understand but that those who does knows he's a good person despite everything that happened to him. Because think about it, after all this man went through, he was still kind and still cared for others - in his own way.

(and before someone might think 'you are saying so much about Stiles because you ship Sterek or anything similiar. Yes, I'm a sterek shipper, but right now I'm not asking you to see Sterek in this, I'm asking you to read this objectivly, cause I believe you don't have to ship Sterek to see how Stiles and Derek both cared for each other and how Stiles was probably the one who risked the most to protect/save Derek whenever it was needed and how Derek did the same)

Addiction:

This is my personal opinion (which doesn't directly attaches to Teen Wolf, but I think it fits and could be helpful).

Many people don't talk enough about the people they find... good.

When you see somehow doing the right thing, maybe help along and share how good it is to see somehow still being kind in a world that, if you look closely, it's very cruel for no reason.

Whe you think someone is a good person, please tell them. Please. they might think they aren't cause they made a mistake you aren't even aware of but maybe your little 'ehi, you're a good one' could bright their day and make them more confident and overall, you both would be better persons.

Please, be kind reasonless.

Tell that person you agree with them, tell them you like their dress or makeup, tell them you think their opinion is good and maybe even have a conversation about it, just strangers talking (but still, be careful).

We underestimate the power of words when it comes to love, kindness, respect... we think of 'powerful words' when we think something bad, that why sometimes we think 'that's such a bad thing to think/say'. But whenever it's something lovely or kind, that could bust up someone's day, confidence, self-respect and self-love, we stay quiet, we don't even think of saying it most of the time.

So, please, BE KIND REASONLESS AND REGARDLESS. BE KIND JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN.

If you came this far, thank you for reading my 'kind of' TEDTalk I guess. I hope you'll excuse my grammar and whatever errors might be in this.

[evelhak]

Aaaaa, this!!! I literally cried, I am so happy to see some actual common sense!! I am so, SO tired of this trend, it's not just Rory either, there's a really unfair pattern going on where the "renaissance" on a piece of media is basically just fans ripping a protagonist to pieces for things that these fans do not hold other characters, particularly beloved antagonists and rivals, accountable for.

This video perfectly illustrates the dynamic: Rory, who tries her best to both achieve her goals and be a decent human being while doing it, who never was a perfect human if you paid attention, gets held to the standard of an angel, so every time she makes a mistake that mistake is treated as disproportionately horrible and irredeemable. Meanwhile, as a good example, Paris, who consistently treats other people horribly, gets downright babied, and how she deserved better is repeated, her own responsibility over her actions downplayed or completely ignored. Only her good qualities are remembered, and highlighted.

There's an excellent quote in the video:

"The audience loves Paris because she is so over the top that she becomes a non-character. But when you take her as a real person and judge her with the same standards as you would Lorelai and Rory, she is pretty terrible."

This. This happens with so many characters whose traits are so much that they are viewed as inherently comedic or unbelievable, so they don't count in people's eyes. Paris having a fit in her college entrance interview, yelling over the interviewers and defending eugenics, gets brushed off as "poor baby, she's clearly mentally ill, she just deserves better, she should have gotten in", while Rory, who got manipulated into an internship by the BIGGEST journalism figure just so he could tell her "she didn't have it" was JUST weak and entitled for getting upset and discouraged over it.

Paris cheating on her boyfriend for months with a college professor gets pushed under the rug because people are too uncomfortable to even acknowledge the whole thing, meanwhile Rory is THE WORST for sleeping with a married guy after she repeatedly asked him if both him and his wife agreed their marriage was over, suggested they could try counselling, and was lied to by said guy that both he and his wife knew things were over between them.

Yeah, Rory made mistakes, and definitely didn't act perfectly after either of the situations I mentioned. She was emotional and people generally make mistakes when they are. But for some reason certain characters get a free pass all the time, while it feels almost like Rory gets punished for even trying to be a good person. Like "See, I caught her making a mistake, that means she's the worst." As if trying to have morals and be decent is inherently arrogant and hypocritical. Like trying and failing is worse than not even trying. It's like, her mom and grandparents and home town expect her to be perfect, so fans did too, and now they're mad at her for being human because they put her on a pedestal. Meanwhile characters who consistently don't care about their impact on others don't get scrutinized, their actually horrible behaviour is just taken as comedy or proof of their victimhood.

Basically, people are desensitized to horrible things from certain characters, they expect it, so they don't react to it, but when Rory who is "supposed to be good" makes a mistake, it's suddenly the core of her character and all she is. Geez.

And don't get me wrong, I love both Paris and Rory. I love every character in the show. But this double standard drives me nuts. So many characters in the show have done very similar things as Rory gets accused of, some of them while feeling no remorse. Some of them have done a lot worse things that get forgiven easily.

And don't even get me started on what a hot guy with a tragic backstory gets excused for. Yeah, some things are understandable when you know the backstory. That doesn't make those things not wrong.

It's like people are obsessed with the idea that someone who appears good on the surface must be bad, and vice versa. Nuance be damned.

[dangermousie]

Do you like triumph of evil in your kdramas? A small rec list for the pessimist in you

If, like me, you got into kdramas way back when or like older kdramas, tragic endings are not a particular surprise - endings where one or both members of the OTP die were pretty common and even unsettling endings that remind you of the world being rather unjust (Bad Guys) also happen.

But I am talking about something more than that - an ending that really socks it to you, by making you feel the villains won, it was all in vain. I confess when well-done, I love the bleakness of that type of ending. So here are my five favorites for this sort of thing:

Hong Gil Dong (2008)

This story of a rebel fighting to overthrow the mad tyrant and bring justice to the people has the most thoroughly bad ending on the list. Who dies? EVERYONE EXCEPT THE BAD GUYS! I don't mean the OTP, I don't mean your fave secondaries, I mean everyone. The sheer realistic bleakness of the ending is breath-taking. Gil Dong, his OTP Yi Nok and the rest of the rebels are murdered by the forces of the king they put on the throne. The last shot of the story proper is them standing watching a shower of arrows coming towards them, staring at their death. The only survivors are the King and the secondary girl and both are monsters. The king is the man they put on the throne with so much effort but who cannot allow them to live because what they want is not to replace a bad absolute ruler with a different one (that he may have coped with) but to replace the system itself - to hold the king accountable, and he cannot have that. In the end, a mad tyrant has been replaced with a sane tyrant and the class system and the injustices of that society that wrecked Hil Dong, Yi Nok and the rest continue unabated. And secondary girl betrays Gil Dong because - for all her sort of crush - she never truly saw him as human, just a fancy peasant toy that should be thrown away and punished for not behaving as he ought. In the end, the good guys, the heroes, who fought so hard are killed and it's not easy acceptance for them either (there is a scene where Gil Dong, knowing they are all dead once spring comes, admits to Yi Nok how terrified of death he is that has haunted me for a decade plus) and the monsters continue on happily. Sure, the people recite stories and new fighters will rise in their place but it's very much of a "no happy ending in our lifetime" message.

At the time this drama came out, the Hong Sisters were known for their romcoms and this started out pretty goofy - watching it live as it got darker and darker was a hell of a trip and the ending made the fandom insane. But the more I thought about it, the more I loved it, the more fitting it seemed. I love all the other takes on rebels against the crown a la various other HGD and Iljimae adaptations but this one has, to me, by far the most fitting ending.

IRIS (2009)

Talk about bleak. This drama starts as your standard if high quality actioner about competent glam agents of a secret CIA type agency. And then it all goes to hell in a handbasket for our mains as it turns out a secret evil organization is the one that's pulling the strings, and our protagonist Kim Hyun Jun (played by Lee Byung Hun in my favorite of all of his performances) is sacrificed for complicated reasons that are only gradually revealed and begins his descent into hell. He starts the story as a competent, cocky sweetheart and transforms into a PTSDing shaking hands wreck. And you watch him fight so hard - fight through all the torments inflicted, fight to protect his loved ones and to keep his sanity, and fight to take the evil org down. You watch him slowly rebuild himself, and to slowly find happiness again with the woman he's loved all this time, Choi Seung Hee (played by Kim Tae Hee in my fave of her performances, who has unknowing ties to the org) and to fight over the org and inflict damage on it.

And then we get that ending, as he's finally found some peace and safety, and he's driving to propose to Seung Hee and as he sees her, he's shot in the head, point blank and he lies there, dying, seeing her but not able to reach her, tears falling out of his eyes as she waits oblivious for a man who will never come and it's made so clear that the org goes on, that nothing has been defeated and that it has all been for nothing - he's been killed as a punishment to him but also as a message to Seung Hee that nobody ever escapes - for her to find his body and realize it was all for naught. And it is also made clear that there was NOTHING he could have ever done to avoid this fate except if his parents made different choices before he was born (!!!) Talk about bleak. I sobbed for hours.

Ja Myung Go (2009)

I've just posted about this one so I am not gonna re-do the comments but yeah, it ends with the OTP death, the kingdom destroyed and the one winner is King Daemushin, the bad guy. The God of Battles wins again. Sure he lost a son but he's got other sons. Worth it, would think the old monster.

My Country: the New Age (2019)

The rest of the dramas on this list are older. This one is not. Our two main protagonists die in the end but that is not what makes it so bleak - what makes it so bleak is that nothing of what they wanted came to pass. In a way, it's a bit of a Hong Gil Dong redux situation - there is a new ruler on the throne but he's not any better than the old ones and he's cleaning up the people who put him on the throne. Hwi especially fought so hard for a place and then just to have some peace and he gets neither, the man he fought so hard to put on the throne being his murderer.

What Happened in Bali (2004)

Ooof, this drama! We have four main characters and at the end, two of them are dead, shot by the third one who turns the gun on himself. The only survivor is the ice cold secondary girl who would probably not pause sipping her morning coffee when hearing the news.

This is a story of people damaged and ruined by a bunch of monsters who suppress any hope and anything good and cause more and more damage - we watch the three mains claw at others and at themselves hoping for happiness and connection and love and it all gets dismantled and set on fire repeatedly and in the worst way. It's perhaps the starkest with Jo In Sung's Jung Jae Min - who you watch taken apart and driven to extremity slowly and gradually over the course of the drama. And his monstrous family ends up triumphant at the end - even in death and murder he was not monstrous enough for them to fit in - and now they will continue their lives.

PS The scene where he shoots Ha Ji Won's character right as she's just finishes telling So Ji Sub she loves JIS and wants to go back to him and she tells him "I love you" for the first time ever as she lies dying - that lives in my head rent free forever.

[candyskiez]

What gets me about Mogami arc is that it would've been so easy to say that Minori was being mind controlled and that she wasn't actually like that. That's what I was fully expecting to happen. But the fact that she IS like that is both way, way more interesting and also way more fitting with the themes. Like if they'd gone "Nobody is worthless and the idea that you are allowed to decide who lives and who dies or who is beyond redemption is fucked up. You do not decide other people's worth. You do not decide if people are capable of change." but then had Minori being actually really nice, that wouldn't have had nearly as much impact.

Because sometimes people are fucking awful! Sometimes people do horrible, fucked up things for selfish reasons that you would have every right to never forgive them for! And you still don't get to decide if they deserve to die for it, because you do not have the right to decide what someone's life is worth. Community means community for everyone, even people you despise. You can decide to never see someone again, like Mob did with Minori, but you do not get to decide if they should lose everything for it. Because that is a dangerous mindset to have.

And Minori actually realizing the consequences of what she was like and all she could say was sorry, knowing it wasn't nearly enough? That shit was devastating. She knew an apology wasn't nearly enough. But what else could she say? He just saved her life after she'd been horrible to him. And it's not about if Minori deserves forgiveness. It's about the fact it's better for her to be one more person trying to do good than for everyone she met to suddenly be grieving. It's about the fact that now one more person is trying to put good into the world, and might help more people, and might end up becoming a good person. It's not about if she deserves it. It's about the fact debating whether or not someone deserves forgiveness doesn't help. Pretty much everyone has someone who views them as not deserving to be saved, so the whole "punish everyone who does something bad" idea becomes even more dangerous when you take that into account.

I really like how MP100 handles it because it isn't about whether or not Minori deserved forgiveness, it's about the fact that the idea that there's a point where your life stops mattering because you've done enough shitty things is really messed up, and ultimately encourages people to stop trying to change at ALL (as we see in separation arc. God the way this story is structured is ridiculously good.) It's better for there to be one more person trying to do good than for yet another loss that will have massive collateral damage. It's better to trust that people can be good, even if you never want to see them again.

I feel like one of the reasons this arc gets me so hard is because it essentially shows Why someone would be pushed to behave like how we see Mob start to. Of course you'd stop holding back and being kind to people if you weren't given a reason to believe it'd work out. Of course you'd become jaded. Of course you'd turn out like that. It puts you in that situation and makes you *get it*, and goes "Horrible things will happen and it will make you feel like there's no point being good, because it will only blow up in your face. But doing that will only hurt more people. You will only become someone else's reason for giving up. Keep going. There are things that are worth trying again for." And I want to bite a wall over it.

I don't have the words to explain it right now but like. I also feel like if Mogami was a pure evil villain it wouldn't have felt as hopeless. I don't know how to explain it. I really want to explain it but I don't have the energy right now. Do you get what I mean. Help.

This is incoherent because I have had A Day, but. Mogami arc good. Have I mentioned Mogami Arc good yet. I love mogami arc guys .

[talkin-tdc]

Ordon/Mayrin discussion

Small trigger warning for this discussion: talking ab parental abuse or the perception of it in the show/among the fanbase.

So in the show, do you guys see Ordon/Mayrin as abusive? I’ve spoken to some who do and honestly I just don’t see it out of the sliver of characterization we get for both (and I promise not just bc Ordon is my favorite). Like oh no he yelled at Rian when he was literally stealing and wasn’t overly affectionate what a tragedy /s. I guess you could say it’s about what he yelled, but though that wasn’t cool, it was also at work to be fair to him. If we saw him do it at home that’s a completely different story but we don’t. I’m also disregarding Rian’s “solider” line because unlike Mayrin and Seladon it sounds to be more of a feeling Rian had than it having any substantial proof such as Ordon saying so himself OUTSIDE OF WORK! Fr I see it a lot more for Mayrin since yeah she is super bad to Seladon, but she genuinely cares about her daughters a substantial amount just like Ordon. She regrets sending Tavra, properly punishes Brea, even tries to make Seladon a better ruler where she can and they hold each other accountable a lot.

Yeah, they have flaws (more than most gelfs we see), but Ordon personally leaves the guard in order to find Rian and hopefully heal him. When both learn the Skeksis are evil, they try to fight back. Idk calling them abusive to me seems a bit much, I’d classify more as misguided but if anyway has any opinions lmk what you guys think/see them as. For me atm they aren’t abusive even within a wide stretch of the imagination.

[agnesandhilda]

hello tumblr user agnesandhilda your umineko posting has intrigued me and i would like to investigate (read: possibly experience it in the future). if you don't mind me asking what is umineko. i could google this information but i find asking the source of it on my dashboard to be more entertaining

okay!! something you should know going in is that umineko is quite literally longer the bible and diverges quite a bit from the basic premise I'm going to give you here, but this is the elevator pitch for it:

the extremely wealthy ushiromiya family meets on their private island for their yearly reunion, which for them doubles as a business conference. their cruel, eccentric patriarch, who's been getting progressively more reclusive and absorbed by his study of black magic and his obsession with the mysterious "beatrice" over the years, believes that his children are waiting for him to die so they can divide his assets among themselves, and hides himself for the entirety of the conference so that his family (who he calls "vultures," how sweet), cannot contact him. and he's not even wrong to think that! each of the four original ushiromiya children is revealed to have some sort of great debt or impending peril that motivates them to get as much of their father's wealth as they can, keeping them in the radius of his abuse and putting them at odds with each other. early umineko is dedicated in large part to the cutthroat internal politics of the ushiromiya family.

but enough about that! umineko is also about battler ushiromiya, a teenager who is comparatively more normal on account of having been estranged from his uberrich family for years, and he doesn't have access to most of this information. battler is just some guy who likes boobs, has an adversarial relationship with his father, and is largely uninvolved in the succession crisis happening just around the corner. he is, however, interested in exploring the ushiromiya mansion and reconnecting with his relatives he hasn't seen in years, and in the process involves himself in the many mysteries surrounding "beatrice."

"beatrice the golden witch" is a key figure in the lore of the ushiromiya family, and of rokkenjima island more broadly. considered the "ruler of rokkenjima's night," she is viewed as representative of everything unexplainable and beyond human control, the entity that holds power over the wilderness that engulfs the comparatively small section of rokkenjima that the ushiromiya family lives on. belief in beatrice is common among the servants of the ushiromiya family, who consider her to be largely benevolent to them, a sort of fairy godmother figure, though they also believe that she harshly punishes nonbelievers and people who are disrespectful towards her. kinzo ushiromiya's study of black magic is in many ways a decades-long effort to contact her, to summon and capture her, and he's had a portrait of the supposed real-life "beatrice" commissioned for the main hall, along with an enigmatic poem about how the resurrection of the golden witch will take place after a series of ritual murders.

the characters of umineko hold a variety of opinions on beatrice. some believe that beatrice is a genuine witch with real magical power, and others reject her outright. in between those positions are people who think that a real woman who is the basis for"beatrice" did exist—that kinzo had a real benefactor or mistress who made him (and by extension, all of his descendants) wealthy beyond belief by investing in kinzo at a time when no one else would, and that stories of "beatrice" persist because kinzo is obsessed with her even now—though she doesn't have any magical power. this belief is mostly held by kinzo's children, whose belief that only some of the beatrice stories are true is motivated by the desire to find the vast quantity of solid gold bars that she supposedly lent the family, and which the murderpoem underneath her portrait may or may not give clues to.

in the middle of all this escalating family tension and stories about witches that the ushiromiyas owe blood debts to, rokkenjima island is caught in a storm that makes contact with the outside world impossible for a day at least, and people begin to die.

battler ushiromiya is trapped with his family members, many of whom hate each other and who would benefit from each other's deaths. without access to any forensic technology and with such a small, insular pool of suspects, it's extremely hard to reliably identify a culprit. it's also terrifying. in the face of these pressures, the ushiromiya family (and their servants, who are also very much being killed), splits into two camps: people who believe that the culprit must be among them (which is a scary thought, and intensifies the conflict and suspicion that already existed within the family), and people who believe that the killer must be an outside agent—beatrice.

since you're asking this in response to seeing the contextless umineko posts I've reblogged, I'm going to go ahead and assume that you know that beatrice does indeed make a physical appearance. and she slays! in every sense of the word! it takes hours of reading to reach her introduction, but when she finally arrives she's just as theatrical, violent, and bombastic as you would expect a witch who massacres entire families to be. she also makes the author's interest in dominant women EXTREMELY clear, which is something you're just going to have to accept if you want to read this visual novel because she's going to strip a guy naked and walk him on a leash later. I have to mention that plot point whenever I can. it's in my contract.

that being said, the question of whether beatrice is "real" remains open even after she's physically appeared in the story. it's a magic thing. it's tough to explain so you'll just have to read it I guess :)

on a less fun note I would be misleading you if I didn't tell you upfront that umineko contains every content warning under the sun. off the top of my head I can say that it's got incest and child abuse (these two are especially big), cannibalism, a 2000s anime-typical laissez-faire attitude towards sexual harassment in scenes that aren't intended to be disturbing, and just, like, a lot of very creative methods of murder and torture. umineko is a gothic horror story. there's gothic horror in it.

[magicalqueennightmare]

Sins & Amends Chapter 2

(Gif by @banditthewriter)

Billy Russo x Female Reader (60 part story)

This follows pre- the punisher into the storyline of daredevil, punisher season 1 and beyond

This is NOT Canon Billy. This is decent human being Billy left with bad options over worse decisions

This was also posted to A03 under: WaywardGaPeach. That account and this one is the only place you'll see me post this. If you see it on any other platform/account know it's not me.

Chapter Summary: You meet the infamous Billy Russo

Frank introduced you to Curtis not long after him and Maria got married. He not only figured the two of you would hit it off good but considering you were a paramedic and Curtis a navy corpsman he figured the two of you had that as a starting point for a friendship.

Curtis had the best heart out of anyone you'd ever met. He was constantly on the look out for how he could help others and just all around a really good guy. It didn't take long before he'd fallen into the same category as Frank but while Frank was the overly protective bear of a brother figure Curt was the calmer head's prosper version. You'd found a new family to fall into a routine with. The Castles, Curt and your partner and friends at the station house helped you to really gain your footing in the life you wanted.

The day you met Billy you weren't sure what to expect . You'd talked to Frank and Curt both enough while they were deployed to know of him. He was pretty much like you, a stray that Frank had found and decided to keep just as Maria had decided to keep you. You'd seen a few photos of him alongside Frank and Curt and honestly? He was gorgeous in your opinion. He was around Frank's height with thick brown hair, eyes that looked nearly black they were so dark in color and a smile that even in a photo could grab your attention.

Apparently from Maria's description though while she did say he was a good guy and a sweetheart she didn't smooth over the fact that he was a player "The fellas call him Billy the beaut. Just as a forewarning if he tries turning the charm on please don't fall for it. He really does fit into this family well and I'd hate to have to cut his balls off." you hadn't even tried to hold back the laughter that the mental image of Maria's five foot four self assaulting a decorated marine had caused. "Yes ma'am" you agreed as you took in behind Lisa trying to catch her so you could change her into the outfit Maria had chosen for the airport trip to meet Frank.

You had the day off and had originally showed up to the Castle household wearing shorts and a short sleeve blouse but when Frank Jr had decided he didn't like his lunch and that it looked better on your shirt than in his stomach Maria had dug one of Frank's old marine shirts from bootcamp out and handed it to you "He won't mind and besides Frank Jr did pretty much cover your other shirt"

On your way out of her bathroom from changing you spotted one of Frank's ballcaps on top the dresser so you grabbed it and pulled your ponytail through the hole figuring why not? At least it lowered the chances of Lisa finding your hair to play with while you waited in the crowd that always accompanied the homecomings.

"Aunt Y/N do you have any food?" Lisa asked swinging from your arm with a giggle as you scanned the crowd looking for Frank. "No sweetie I'm sorry but as soon as we get your daddy we'll get you some lunch ok?" "Ok" she agreed with a grin that highlighted her missing front tooth that had come out a week before.

"Do you see them yet?" Maria asked and you were about to shake your head when you spotted Frank working his way through the crowd "I see Frank!" you said and waved your arm so he would see you. He locked eyes with you and smiled then leaned back in the crowd and you could tell he was talking to someone and that was when you spotted Billy at his side "and he's got Russo with him" you added earning a cheeky grin from Maria at the use of Billy's last name.

Frank made it to your small group first and pulled Maria into a kiss then hugged Lisa and Frank Jr close to his chest. After he let them go he grinned at you "C'mon kid you're getting a hug too" you let him pull you into his arms and laughed against his chest when he said "By the way are you wearing my shirt and my hat?" You pulled back with a guilty expression and tilted your head towards Maria "Boss lady said I could"

"Smart woman to listen to her" you heard someone say and turned to see Billy's eyes were glued to you. "Well the infamous Billy Russo. It's nice to finally meet you" you offered your hand with a smile. A glint of a mixture of amusement and maybe a little bit of cockyness flashed through his eyes before a smirk slowly worked its way onto his face and he shook your hand "And you must be Y/N. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you from Frankie" you could tell he was turning on the charm and had you not been warned? Oh hell yes it would've worked but instead you simply replied "I've heard a lot about you too. Now let's see what out of that is true or not"

You missed the look he gave Frank when you turned around to pick Lisa up which was clearly "Where did you find her?" Billy had his fair share of women but none that ever really peaked his interest until you. There was something about you that had him watching your every move or until Maria arched an eyebrow at him and Frank's earlier warning of "Bill Y/N is a pretty girl but she's like a sister to Maria and has been there for her and the kids more than I have meaning she's family and that Maria will cut your balls off should you even attempt your usual methods"

He raised his hands defensively and hoisted his bag on his shoulder to walk out the airport with all of you. You glanced back and smiled at him "So Billy I hear you're uncle as much as I'm aunt?" He nodded "Yea why?" and laughed when you held Lisa out to him "Carry her to the car for Maria. I'm grabbing a cab to go on a food run and will meet all of you at the house" "Yes ma'am" he smirked and gave you a salute so in return you rolled your eyes but didn't try to fight the smile that had worked it's way onto your face "At ease lieutenant"

You winked at Maria and said "I am going after Frankie's favorite and am getting my niece some lunch, anything else needed?" "Beer" Frank offered and you tilted your head towards him "Of course" then walked the opposite way of them to hail a cab while they headed for the parking lot.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Podcasts are hearteningly enshittification resistant

In the enshittification cycle, a platform lures in users by giving them a good deal at first, then it lures in business mers (advertisers, sellers, performers) by shifting the surplus from users to them; finally, it takes all the surplus for itself, turning the whole thing into a pile of shit:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/27/enshittification-resistance/#ummauerter-garten-nein

When a company is neither disciplined by competition nor by regulation, enshittification inevitably ensues. If a user or business customer can’t jump ship — because of lock-in, high switching costs or network effects — then companies are powerfully tempted to mistreat them — not out of sadism, but instead to harvest their surplus and goose the company’s profits.

Half the results on the first five screens of an Amazon search result are ads. Amazon’s business customers spend $31b/year on payola, bidding to be at the top of Amazon’s search results: the top results aren’t the best matches to your search, they’re the matches that are most profitable for Amazon.

But out of the remaining half, many of the results are Amazon’s lookalike products: Amazon coerces sellers into shipping via Amazon warehouses (otherwise their products won’t be Prime eligible), and this not only lets Amazon extract 45%+ out of every sale in junk fees, it also lets them see the bills-of-lading that identify the manufacturers of products, whom Amazon can approach to make a knock-off.

These Amazon house-brand copycat products are cheaper than the original, because Amazon doesn’t charge itself >45% fees. It can allocate some of the surplus to shoppers — offering a discount on the price the OEM has had to inflate to cover Amazon’s fees — but keep the majority for its shareholders.

This is enshittification: Amazon is a place where buyers hold the sellers hostage (because Amazon is where all the buyers are, and the buyers are prepaying for shipping a year at a time via Prime), but the buyers can’t leave either, because all the sellers are at Amazon. The sellers don’t want to be on Amazon, but all the buyers are there, so…

Hypothetically there’s another way to discipline Amazon’s appetites as it gorges itself on all of us, buyer or seller: regulation. Much of Amazon’s conduct falls under the broad terms “unfair and deceptive,” which the FTC has broad authority to prohibit and punish under Section 5 of the FTC Act.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

The FTC is undergoing a renaissance under Lina Khan, its most effective chair in forty years, and she is aggressively wielding her Section 5 powers to hold corporations to account, but the FTC has two generations’ worth of policy debt to pay down, and enshittification is everywhere, so Amazon and other firms generally behave as though there was no threat of regulatory punishment for even the most egregious conduct. They don’t have to outrun Lina Khan, they just have to outrun all the other firms she has in her crosshairs.

Corporations, unfettered by competition or regulation, are free to pursue enshittification to the bitter end: once they have their users locked in, they use them as bait to lure in business customers, and once they are locked in, they can grab all the value for themselves, surfing the line between “so useless everyone quits” and “just useful enough that everyone keeps holding each other hostage.”

Enshittification is a dangerous strategy, and not just because that’s a hard wave to surf. Woe betide a platform that enshittifies prematurely, before its users or business customers are too locked in to simply say, “fuck this, I’m out of here.” That’s an expensive mistake, one that can cost a company all the consumer and supplier subsidies it bought with its shareholders’ cash.

It’s a mistake that Spotify just made, when it pursued its podcast exclusivity strategy, blowing more than a billion dollars buying up podcasts and then locking them up inside Spotify’s walled garden, unreachable unless you use Spotify’s client — other podcatchers need not apply:

https://variety.com/2022/digital/news/spotify-podcast-revenue-loss-2022-1235288180/

It’s easy to see why Spotify liked this idea. Real podcasts are as open as you could want — encoded in the open MP3 standard, distributed over the open RSS standard — and can be subscribed to and played back by any client. There’s no practical way to spy on podcast listeners, nor to enshittify their experience in other ways, say, by blocking ad-skipping.

For eshittification-thirsty corporate sociopaths, this user-centric openness is a bug, not a feature. Apple was the first company to try to enclose podcasts, but while it dominated the sector, it never controlled it fully, not least because anyone could leave Apple’s walled garden and subscribe to the same podcasts using another client with just a couple clicks. Competition disciplines companies.

Disciplined by competition and the ease of user switching, the podcast-encloser brigade have proceeded with caution — even where they publish their own podcasts, they haven’t tried to make them exclusive to their walled gardens, instead offering real podcast feeds that anyone could subscribe to. One notable — and shameful — exception is the BBC, which has abandoned its leadership on open standards and open protocols and moved its flagship podcasts inside its proprietary BBC Sounds app, presumably because this will help it commericalize its offerings for non-license-fee-payers (part of the long transformation of the BBC from a Public Service Broadcaster focused on Reithian values to a glorified streaming service for Americans, a transformation that started when the BBC killed the Creative Archive in favor of the Iplayer).

Where others were cautious, Spotify was reckless. It bought popular podcasts and podcast networks, then severely enshittified their programs by locking them inside Spotify’s walled garden. Audience numbers plummeted, demoralizing podcast creators who were uninterested in the future date when Spotify and its Magic Underpants Gnomes would figure out how to wring more money out of the tiny cohort that stuck around.

Today, podcast advertising rates are falling off a cliff. Short on users and ad dollars, Spotify’s enshittification plan is looking like a self-inflicted wound. Even the Obamas cancelled their deal and switched to Audible, a monopolist that leads the world in enshittification but who had the good sense not to make its podcasts platform-exclusive:

https://variety.com/2022/digital/news/obamas-audible-deal-spotify-1235299775/

Writing in Variety, Tyler Aquilina pens a eulogy for podcast exclusivity, quoting Parcast Union and Gimlet Union, the unions for Spotify acquisitions Gimlet and Parcast: “[exlusives] caused a steep drop in listeners — as high as three quarters of the audience for some shows.”

https://variety.com/vip/podcast-exclusivity-is-quickly-becoming-an-outdated-strategy-1235495652/

That is a hell of a rush for the exits. What’s more, podcasts that leave Spotify’s walled garden — after their exclusive deals expire — gain listeners (though not as many as they lost).

Podcasting is an open technology built out of open technologies. We have damned few of those left. The openness of podcasts once allowed wild experimentation, with new kinds of audio made by new kinds of creators finding new kinds of audiences.

The drive to enshittify, unfettered by regulation or competition, has allowed many of the world’s largest, stupidest tech companies to unhinge their jaws and tempt podcast makers and listeners to traipse blithely onto their slathering tongues. They were always going to snap their jaws shut eventually — just because Spotify lacked the executive function to wait for a fully ripened enshittification before biting down, it doesn’t mean we’re out of the woods.

[Image ID: A scary abandoned room. The back wall is stained with the Spotify podcast selection screen. In the center of the room is an oversized mousetrap, baited with the Spotify logo.]

[queen-paladin]

A PSA regarding women writers and directors

(tw: mentions of internal misogony, domestic abuse, cheating, and suicide)

I hear all this stuff on Tiktok and on Instagram. All about the phrase "Written by a woman" in regard to men and cis-hetero relationships. Praising women for creating "soft" male love interests that check all the boxes. And for their treatment of female characters. Like the "Female Rage" trend where instead of an angry woman yelling and losing their cool, we only have a woman glaring directly into the camera. They list all these books and films written and directed by women noting this. Now, let's be clear- I am 100 percent for supporting female-created and controlled works

But

Can we stop pretending women writers and directors are perfect? That there aren't women who are internally misogynistic and problematic in various ways (Do I even need to mention Rowling. I mean, she's a woman after all too!)? And that for those women who are artists, that said internal misogyny doesn't show up in their works? And that they don't romanticize things that are really messed up, wrong, or even dangerous?

Take Colleen Hoover for example. She's huge on Tiktok and you will see her books promoted everywhere. You would think if you picked up one of her books that it would involve all the Romance Written By A Woman Goodness.

BUT

So many of her books romanticize abuse, toxic relationships, and cheating with her female protagonists easily forgiving the male love interests (ex. Verity and All Your Perfects) or excusing and not taking accountability for their actions (for ex. hitting on a guy when they 100% know he has a girlfriend, calling other women "sluts" which the heroine of Maybe Someday does).

Or in Erin Morgenstern's The Night Circus where it is implied that Isobel is a bad person for being upset about her boyfriend cheating on her for the female lead and being dumped for the Side Chick?

Or take Kiera Cass's The Selection. In the first book of the series, we have a female protagonist who looks down on other women for wearing super show-offy dresses that promote their cleavage in a beauty competition (Yup! We also get slut-shaming!) While said modest, plain dressing (she dresses plain because she is "not beautiful" and "not like other girls!") heroine gets praised and called beautiful and ultimately lands the prince for this.

And I cannot tell you how many times in historical fiction and even sometimes in fantasy written by women I read a protagonist who "wasn't like other girls" who shat on women for wearing corsets, being "ladies", liking sewing and dresses, actually wanting romance, etc. And the female characters who DO that stuff sometimes even get punished and criticized for it! (ex, Enola Holmes, A Court of Thorns and Roses, A Great And Terrible Beauty, and my favorite punching bag, The Essex Serpent. Shout out to the tv adaptation to have the Proper Lady Stella's one act of agency after being cheated on and getting terminally sick...is to KILL HERSELF) Like it was a bad thing for women of that time or even women today to enjoy traditionally feminine things or to want romance. (I could also get into historic accuracy, but that's a different can of worms. Watch Karolina Zebrowska's videos for more in-depth explanations like "How men taught us to hate corsets" and "busting historic myths on women").

(There is also the whole element of other factors like racism, ageism, transphobia, and homophobia, that we could get into, but let's not make this post long)

Just because it is written or directed by a woman doesn't make it default good and perfect. Women are people. So women can be flawed and make mistakes. And women can create stories that hold up patriarchal ideas and notions and that shows up in their writing. Women can romanticize shitty men. Women can tear down other women for doing something harmless.

Listen, if you enjoy these stories that don't make you a bad, problematic person. You can definitely read them, but keep an eye out and question things. Women can create problematic elements in their stories just as much as men do and we need to watch out for them and deconstruct and question these when we see them.

Ok, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

[kleenex-tissues]

Yours Truly (13)

AO3 here

Ch. 13: Even Heroes Make Stupid Choices

After spending so many years protecting Gotham, Bruce Wayne has learned a few lessons to say the least.

Poison Ivy will always take a break during a fight to gush about Harley.

Arkham is a good place to send Rogues, so long as they actually feel like extending their stay.

Always wear extra padding in the Batman costume so that no one knows both of your identities have the same ass shape.

Do NOT make out with anyone on the roofs unless you want Barbara to set a picture of it as the batcomputer’s screen saver.

When one of your kids shows up to their patrol shift in a sparkly hot pink version of their suit, it’s better that you don’t ask questions.

Duke was flaming red under his glittering suit. Thankfully, the impossible-to-miss shine of the costume kept attention directed away from the small bit of visible skin on his face. He tried to stick with day-time patrols, where his sole presence was enough to prevent any major crime. However, not even the petty thieves could keep from bursting into laughter when they saw him.

One guy laughed so hard that he dropped his bag of stolen money on the ground and burst a lung. It was an awkward trip to the hospital for both of them, to say the least.

Realistically, he knew that he should have seen this coming. After walking in on Damian sending emails to the pen pal he had supposedly deemed ‘unbecoming of his status as heir,’ he had the bright idea to check it again.

It wasn’t easy to break into the email account. It took a long call to Barbara and a few promises to convince her to figure out how to get through Damian’s authentication walls. Duke needed to see what was going on with his little brother, even if it was at risk of punishment and/or death. It was a coin flip of how Damian would react when he found out.

This is how Duke Thomas came to learn that Damian was head over heels for a girl he had never met. In an act of possible self-sacrifice, he found out her last name and followed her on Instagram. You know, the smart choice.

Marinette was way too good for Damian. Quite frankly, Duke couldn’t find anything wrong with the girl. They bonded quickly after he explained who he was and gave some definitive proof, taking the time to send memes and share embarrassing tidbits about Damian, of course. She was sunshine incarnate, and there was no way Duke wasn’t going to try and convince her to marry Damian. She had to be part of this family.

Damian needed someone too good for him. Someone who could heal his inner darkness and tame the hyperactive assassin that still lived within him. Damian Wayne needed Marinette Dupain-Cheng, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Sadly, secrets don’t last long in this house. It was entirely Duke’s own fault; he knew that, but all he wanted to do was get a snack from the pantry. He didn’t mean to leave his phone unlocked on the coffee table, and he certainly didn’t expect Damian to snoop through it. But it was only a matter of time before the teen learned of his deception.

Duke had barely made it one step into the room before Damian was tackling him and his chip bag was flying through the air. If Damian didn’t kill him first, he did Alfred would for the mess. There was no way he was making it out of this manor alive.

Fists were thrown and legs flung meticulously at vital spots. Duke was confident in his ability to hold his own for a while, but Damian had stamina like no other in the house. This confrontation would not end in his favor. Duke tried to pull himself out of the way of another fist by grabbing onto the doorway and using the momentum of his clothing against the hardwood to speed him along.

It was these battles, more so than the ones on the streets of Gotham, that his foresight came most in handy for. Using his knowledge of what would happen, he made the maneuver smoothly and efficiently. He just had to make it to Dick’s room, and he would survive. He had never been more glad in his life that Dick was spending a week at the manor.

Just as quickly, Duke was on his feet and racing up the stairs. Four doors, that’s all he had to pass to get to the end of the hallway and burst through his brother’s room.

One door. Damian was gaining on him. He didn’t need his foresight to feel the breathing down his neck.

Two doors. Duke felt his speed failing him, but he pushed onwards. He just needed to get to the one room Damian wouldn’t dare touch.

Three doors down, one left to go. It was a race against a fast-footed ex-assassin. Quite frankly, Duke was a little impressed with himself.

Last door. The home stretch! Duke was just a few feet away! He extended his arm to reach the knob and turn it, but just as the tips of his fingers touched the cool brass, Damian lunged.

The door felt a lot harder against his head than he would’ve imagined. Stars were clouding his vision, and a dull ache reverberated against the expanse of his brain. Duke was faintly aware of Damian trying to pull him back to the floor as he reached once more for the doorknob. He was finally on the doorstep of freedom when the wood swung away and Dick stared down at the two.

“Help me,” Duke whispered, losing his unsteady footing and slamming into Dick’s chest. Thankfully, warm hands grabbed him, and he was once more on his feet.

Damian practically growled. “Grayson, this is none of your concern. If you would place Thomas in my arms, we will be off shortly.”

Dick lifted an eyebrow in response. He didn’t seem convinced.

“It seems it just might be my business, little wing. Why else would Duke fall face-first into my bedroom door?”

Duke took the chance to hide behind Dick, in the safety of the room. He wasn’t taking any chances. Knowing that he could easily deter Damian with a distraction, he mentally apologized to Dick before blurting, “Damian’s emailing Marinette, and he didn’t want me to tell you!”

The heartbroken gasp that came from Dick’s mouth almost shattered their eardrums. Tears started to form in his eyes as he scrunched his face up into the classic ‘how could you lie to me like that?’ pose he had mastered. Perks of being the first Robin. How else would he have gotten away with as much as he did?

Damian stepped back in shock, his face going as white as a sheet. He felt fear very little in his life, but the second Dick began crying, they all knew that Bruce could appear behind them within minutes. He had a second sense when it came to his first child. No one ever made Dick cry and go away with it.

“It’s not what it sounds like, I swear,” Damian stuttered. “I was going to tell you! I just wanted to teach you a lesson about meddling! That’s all!”

Oh no. The tears were falling now. Damian needed to escape while he had the chance. Looking towards the nearest window, he pulled it open, punched out the screen, and jumped into the garden below.

As he picked a leaf from his hair and climbed out of the bush he landed in, he heard his father’s voice echoing through the open window.

“Dick! What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

Damian was sprinting across the yard now, unsure of where he planned to go. Wherever he ended up, he would bide his time. Duke will rue the day he decided to message his Marinette.

His? No, now’s not the time to think about this. He needed to embarrass Duke as much as he embarrassed him. He would hit him where it truly hurt – his public image. Cue, Duke’s very unfortunate suit redesign.

Unknown Number – 10m ago

Hey, this is Mari! Here’s my number :)

[th3sp4rr0w]

Day Twenty-Two

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Twenty-Two Whipping/Punishment/Stress Position

Alt. Prompt For Day Twenty-Two Nerve Damage

Prompts Used for Day Twenty-Two Whipping, Punishment, Nerve Damage

Tw's; Dubious Medical Accuracy, Blood, Injury, General Child Death (I still have no idea how to tag that)

IMPORTANT; Tomorrow's chapter may be late. I'll try to keep you guys updated on this account :))

Chapter Twenty-Two under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he woke up, his wrist throbbed. He winced as he tried to sit up, looking at the new scars decorating his skin.

Robin was never supposed to be scared. Robin was supposed to be strong all the time. Laugh in the face of death and still come out the other side, kicking and screaming. That was easy to do when you’d always come out the other side.

As Jason Peter Todd-Wayne, he knew what it felt like to not be able to come out the other side. He’d been scared, but it was okay. He had the bat. Batman had already been too late once, but he couldn’t be late if he was right there, right? He’d had Nightwing and Alf. He had people in his corner, willing to back him up.

Cardinal was born because of their failings. Robin wasn’t supposed to be scared, but he was terrified; Jason was allowed to be paralyzed with fear if he wanted to be because he’d had everyone right there; all he had was another kid in his exact position.

If anything, this had reminded him of something he should’ve already had beaten into his skull; don’t trust anyone. Especially when they’re suspicious.

He failed that. He failed Phantom, and he failed himself. He felt like he failed Catherine.

He pulled his knees to his chest. His hand twitched and pulsated with pain.

He’d wanted to believe that Agent A was a victim. Looking back, it was obvious that it had been by design. The food, the water, the kindness; it had all been a ploy. He supposed he could understand it. Nobody wanted to think a kind person who said pretty words and talked about how mean the others were with you was going to betray you like that.

He’d invented this whole story in his head; that she’d been down on her luck, she had kids, never spoken about a partner. He figured she was a single mother. Needed a nice, cushy government job to raise them comfortably and ended up working with ghosts because it sounded ridiculous; wanted out, now, but couldn’t go knowing there were more people willing to take her spot as soon as she left. Stayed because she wanted to help.

Batman, what felt like years ago now, had taught him that interrogation technique. People are wired to fill in the blanks of an incomplete picture; if you drop little puzzle pieces, they don’t notice the big ones you're holding close. They fill in those parts of the picture on their own. It’s remarkable, really. They don’t even realize they’re being fed bullshit until the after taste hits their tongue. It tasted like defeat and regret.

A particularly stabbing pain made itself known from his elbow all the way down his thumb. It got intense around his joints. He hissed and clutched the offending arm close.

He should’ve died. A shock like that should’ve left him little more than a vegetable. He’d already figured his ghost part protected him from the bulk of it, but the rest should’ve been healed by now. He considered asking Phantom about it.

The other boy lay on the floor. He didn’t know what he was doing and didn’t ask. Living in the same small room together, you started craving privacy; he figured this was his way of asking for space. He’d contemplated crawling into the cupboard before but decided against it in case he was caught by an agent and decided he’d interacted with his surroundings wrong or something and punished him.

What was taking so long? He may not be a damsel in distress, but he was a bat that needed back up. The longest it had ever taken Nightwing to get rescued was a few days, and that was largely because the big bat had been in space and didn’t want anyone to move in until he was there to help. It was mostly because Nightwing developed a tendency to go off on his own and come back 10x more traumatized than he’d left and Batman wanted to provide some sort of emotional support (as much as Batman could be), but still. He’d been there within a few days.

He wasn’t jealous or anything. He was just concerned. If the Bat couldn’t figure out where they were, and soon, then...

He looked over at Phantom. His wrist ached again.

What would it mean for them? They’d eventually either have to escape or die here. They were already working on the first one, but the second was rapidly approaching. If they went full ghost after, they might have a shot of getting out, but they’d already kept them this long. If they went full ghost mode, then they’d probably cut their chances in half. Then, once they ended them for good...

Nothing. Bye. That’s it.

It’s not that he’d already given up. He didn’t want to die, if for no other reason than for spite. Who the fuck were these people to come along and just decide a whole different species is just not sentient anymore? Fuck that. But he also wasn’t optimistic.

He knew that whatever was keeping him alive right now was fading. He could feel it in every little cell in his body; it was like feeling your heart slowly stop bleeding and knowing there’s nothing you can do to fix it. It was terrifying. He suspected Phantom felt it too, after everything.

They didn’t have enough in them to make it out of another fight, not with these people. Their only chance was to run.

But they weren’t ready. He’d made some progress with the collar, but not much; Phantom had been much more successful in that front. He didn’t think they’d be able to get far if they rushed them. He supposed it could work if they were the only three here, but they constantly had people helping out during experiments. It wouldn’t be long before everyone who’d ever helped before was called in to help again, and they’d be right back where they started but worse.

He closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the pain. Different techniques that had been drilled into his head popped up, demanding attention until he realized it wasn’t working and he switched tactics. It was like someone had started touching the nerve itself, gripping it and twisting. It made him squirm, taking over his whole thought process for several minutes. Who could think though this sort of pain?

Eventually, it calmed down on its own. He had little pinpricks of sweat dotted on his forehead; that had sucked. That had sucked hard and he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to do that again. What was that, exactly?

He looked down at Phantom, who was still lying on the floor for... unknown reasons. He was going to leave him be for a few more minutes, but he hadn’t moved since the last time Cardinal had checked on him. He... should, right? That was what people did when someone’s on the floor and they haven’t moved?

He slid down and off the cot, next to the other boy, He made his way to the floor, looking at him from where he’d sat down. He could see tear tracks on the boy’s cheeks, his eyelashes fluttering with sleep. When he reached a hand outwards, he could feel warm puffs of hair against his hand. He looked at him fondly for a few more minutes.

His heart ached. When he’d first found out that he had a twin, he hadn’t been interested. He had Nightwing, and he supposed Batgirl counted too. He had the baby bird, who was delightfully unhinged in the way only a baby brother could be. He was fine; he didn’t need any more siblings. But right here?

He couldn’t imagine what his life had been like before Phantom. Memories wrapped around themselves, trying to remember where the boy had been. It was like they couldn’t comprehend a life without him. Imagining the future was much the same; no matter how hard he tried to imagine it, Phantom was always by his side.

This is what that looked like, right? Being by someone’s side no matter what. He had a suspicion that Phantom could probably leave whenever he wanted to by now. He’d been training his collar pretty hard. But he stuck by his side. He couldn’t comprehend it most days; most other people would have turned tail and ran by now.

The other boy started blinking awake, yawning and bringing his hand up to wipe his eye. He watched him as he did so, resisting the urge to tuck his hand in his hair.

He loved his family; all his family. Affection had been something he’d struggled with for a while. He’d gone from a caretaker that was full of gentle touches and temple kisses to being wary of anyone walking within touching distance to being in the manor, where a pat on the shoulder was pretty much it unless it’s Nightwing they were talking about or something bad had happened, all within a few years. It was jarring. Sometimes his body didn’t know whether to tense to run or to stay relaxed.

He’d never had that problem with Phantom. The circumstances were not ideal, it’s true, but it just came easy when he was with the boy. Maybe it was a twin thing and maybe it was a ghost thing, but for whatever reason, they just seemed to click.

Phantom stretched, looking at Cardinal with half-lidded eyes. “What’s uh... mmm, what’s goin’ on?”

He looked at him. “Nothing much. I only just woke up myself when I noticed you were on the flo-oOor-”

His left came forwards to grasp his right. He hissed in pain as Phantom started up to fuss over him.

He grabbed his wrist, looking over it. He rubbed along the scars. “Can you outstretch your hand for me?” He asked softly.

He tried. It was like the fingers had a sudden rebellion, refusing to outstretch like he’d demanded. The other boy looked at him and rubbed his flesh. It didn’t help the pain, but at least he knew he wasn’t alone.

“I think the electricity damaged your nerve,” he said quietly. “I go through the same thing,” he added, holding up his left hand.

Cardinal stretched out his right arm, bumping the other boys hand against his one. “At least you damaged your left,” he said.

Phantom snorted. “If I had to damage either of my hands, I would’ve preferred my right. I’m left-handed.”

Cardinal laughed with him. “Somewhere, somebody is laughing their ass off at us,” he said.

“Oh, undoubtedly,” he said. He started popping his knuckles, one by one, “We both damage our writing hands in the same way almost exactly a year apart? That’s wild.”

He hummed. “If we get anymore freaky shit like that here I’m suing,” he joked.

“Honestly, I think we should,” he said lowly. “We’re young and cute enough the court would probably eat this up,” he pondered.

Cardinal thought about it. “My adoptive father is an A-list celebrity,” he said, equally quiet. “We’d probably be able to do it.”

The other boys eyes lit up. “We could destroy them mentally one at a time until they’re nothing but a shell of their former selves!”

He leaned away from him slightly. “We could totally do that, buddy, but you’re scaring me a bit,” he said, amusement evident in his voice.

He looked back up at him, a somewhat manic gleam in his eyes. “I run off of spite and caffeine, dude. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had caffeine? I was supposed to get a coffee after I met with the spirit of Gotham and got kidnapped by your brother instead. Then I got kidnapped by the GIW.”

“Oh my god-”

“I know!”

Cardinal looked at him for a moment. “They’re never going to let us out of their sight again,” he said. “Batman’s going to put me on a fucking leash-”

Phantom laughed brightly. “That’s fine. My older sister will absolutely join him. Think they’ll take us on walks together?”

He startled out a laugh. “As long as they don’t start feeding us off the floor- do you want food?”

He snorted. “Sure- what do you want?”

He hummed. “Something with protein.”

He chucked some sort of protein poptart at him. He tore into it the wrapper with his teeth, eventually gaining access to the sweet treat. He took a bite.

It wasn’t bad. It definitely wasn’t a poptart, but it was something with a decent amount of protein, and it was poptart-adjacent. It was good enough.

Phantom sighed as he looked in the cabinet. “Man,” he started, “I would kill for some zesti.”

Cardinal laughed. “No fuckin’ way,” he said. “Nightwing drinks that shit. I swear it’s going to come out one day that they put addictive chemicals in the crap.”

“You know what? It could have the same dark secret as slurm and I’d still drink it. I’d debate it-”

“The fuck is slurm?” He wrinkled his nose.

“Fucking- you remember Futurama?”

“OH- that stupid show ‘Wing watches?”

“I guess? Anyways- one of the episodes they figure out the drink the main character drinks all the time is slug-”

“Nope. Don’t, I know what you’re talking about. You’d fucking drink that, what is wrong with you?!”

He watched as the other boy laughed, coming out of the cabinet with some water. “Look-”

“Don’t ‘look’ me as if-”

“Dude, it’s good. Just trust me.”

“Nightwing’s made me try it, I do not trust you. You’re all going to get some horrible disease and I fear I’ll get it too just from that sip.”

“Stop,” he wheezed.

“This isn’t funny, you have a problem-”

“I only overdosed on caffeine ONE time!”

“You did what-”

He laughed. Cardinal vaguely wondered how it would sound if they were out. If they weren’t on the floor of some government facility, trying to survive some shit that sounds like the plot of one of Nightwing’s shitty shows.

He took a deep breath. He looked away.

He might’ve picked up a few dramatics, but hey, he earned it. This was a situation to be dramatic about.

Phantom looked at him. “Hey, what’s up?"

He tried not to look like he was some damsel looking for her husband that had gone off to war. “I just... I’m missing my family right now.”

Phantom nodded, coming up beside him. He noticed his left hand was cramped up at his side. “I get it,” he said softly. “I miss my family, too.”

He put his leg over Phantom’s. For whatever reason, it soothed something inside him to be linked in some way. He assumed it was a ghost thing.

“What’s the psychiatrist like?” He asked.

Phantom got an easy grin on his face. “She’s bossy. And she keeps trying to psycho-analyze strangers at the grocery store when she notices they’re buying a different milk than usual, because she’s the psychiatrist and she notices that type of thing. She slightly loses her head in a stressful situation, but the second anybody, especially me, Ellie, or any of my friends are in trouble, she’s a total badass. One time she noticed I was getting hurt on patrol and followed me out there with nothing but a thermos and a pipedream.”

“No gear?” Cardinal asked.

Phantom snorted. “Nope. Not even a good pair of boots; she wore her flats.”

“Oh my god.”

He smiled fondly. “Yeah. She burns water in the kitchen; one time she tried to make pancake mix batter and, even though you don’t need to do anything except add water, it had unmixed baking soda in it.”

“You’re fucking kidding,” he replied, looking at Phantom in slack-jawed horror.

“Nope,” he laughed. “But she’s my sister. I love her. And she’s good at a million other things. I honestly believe that she’ll be able to tame Arkham, if for no other reason than she wants to try. She’s really smart, dude, and I think she could do it.”

Cardinal whistled. “What about the Joker?”

“She’s already said she refuses to work with him in particular,” he said immediately. “She said she wants to help those that want to be, and Joker’s more akin to a ghost now. I can tell he’s been brought back a couple times, right?”

He nodded.

“Yeah, he’s... he’s too far gone. J says there’s a certain point where there’s really no coming back from the damage you’ve caused, and that fucker passed it a long time ago. She also says that considering the damage he’s done to previous psychologists, they need to stop trying.”

Cardinal nodded. “Your sister’s pretty smart.”

He smiled. “Yeah, she is. What about Nightwing? What’s he like?”

He got quiet. “He’s... I think he’s angry. Not at me, I don’t think it was ever really about me. But I think Batman didn’t do everything he should’ve with ‘Wing. He’s sensitive, and always has been. I don’t think that Batman knew how to be a dad yet, and trying to figure it out as he went along wasn’t really the best thing to do. I think I’m supposed to forgive him for being angry and taking it out on me. I mean, that’s what they always say, right?”

“Dude, if you’re not ready to forgive him, don’t. He might be doing better now, but you deserved to be protected all along. Especially since he knew how Batman was.”

He sighed. “I know. I just... he is doing better now. He checks in with me, asks how my day went, treats me like I’m his brother. I don’t want to ruin that. I like what we have going on and I’m so worried that I’m gonna screw it up.”

He hummed. “I’ll help you figure it out. It’s okay to be angry, redbird.”

He snorted. “That’s sticking now?”

He smiled at him. “Why not?”

He gave a soft smile of his own. “Yeah. Why not? But um, to answer your question. I think Nightwing would burn the world down if he thought it’d keep me safe. I think growing up with Batman does irreversible shit to anyone’s psyche, so we all have a funny way of showing we care, but I think he does. Always did. He doesn’t like admitting it, but he’d probably set himself on fire to keep everyone else warm.”

“What do you mean?”

“In a way, I think he might’ve been trying to protect me by staying away.”

“That’s dumb as shit,” Phantom replied, deadpan. “How would-”

“He’s... I don’t want to call him dumb but he’s fucking stupid. He can solve just about any puzzle you put in front of him, but he’ll still convince himself he hasn’t done anything for the community. He solved, like, 7 cases of Batman’s while he was sick and injured one week and cried because he couldn’t follow up in the field.”

“Do you think we could manipulate him into getting therapy?”

He paused. “Maybe?”

Phantom snorted. “It really sounds like all of you need it, dude.”

“Look who’s talking Mr. I Died In My Parent’s Basement.”

“Okay, so we could all benefit from a session.”

“Alf’s gonna love you,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s been teaming up with Canary to get Bat and ‘Wing into therapy for years.”

He grinned. “I want it on the record that if I didn’t know my sister and what she’d say about this very well, I probably wouldn’t have said anything.”

He grinned. “I- oh, ow, oh my god, what was that-”

Phantom dropped his smile, looking over the other boy. “What’s wrong, what happened-”

“Pain- ow-”

“In the recent wound or the old ones?”

“Like- legs and shit, ow-”

Phantom winced. “Okay, just breathe through it,” he said, beginning to rub his back and lay him down. “It’s your death wound acting up, you’re gonna be fine-”

“Death wound?!”

“It’s okay!” He said, putting his hands in front of him. “They act up during important events and things. You’re gonna be okay,” he said, starting to pet his hair. “It’s going to suck, and you might scream a little bit but you’re going to be okay by the end, I promise.”

He looked up at Phantom. He trusted him completely.

Maybe it was dumb, especially after everything he’d gone though. He... he still wanted to believe victims.

Out of everything they’d taken from him, he didn’t want this to be one. People deserved to be believed. At the end of the day, he might not be Robin, but the one thing he never wanted to lose was the trust he had with the people they saved. He didn’t want to be the type of person to doubt every detail of the story. That wasn’t how he was raised.

Catherine wouldn’t have wanted that for him.

He breathed through it, Phantom helping him. Eventually, he calmed down.

They didn’t go back to talking. They sat there, just going through the motions. He drank water. Phantom eventually ate something. They didn’t speak for a long time. They didn’t need to.

It was the moments of waiting that felt the hardest. The not knowing, the exhaustion, the uncertainty. He had no idea what was going to break first; if he’d crack and give in, giving these assholes exactly what they wanted and cracking under the pressure of being the perfect prisoner, or if they were going to snap over nothing and kill them. That was what they were gearing up to, right?

Even if they mentally broke them and brainwashed them into the perfect soldiers, they’d never be trusted. They could never look at them and say, honestly, that they didn’t think they’d run given the chance. Their options had always been escape, rescue, or death. With every passing hour, it looked more like death was the only option.

He still didn’t know why being a ghost was so bad. What had they ever done to anyone to deserve this sort of fate? It’s not like they’d ever done anything wrong outside of their own raw need for survival. He normally agreed with Bruce’s rule, but there are a few exceptions he’d be willing to make. These people?

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull the trigger, but God if he wasn’t tempted. He wondered if Nightwing would do it if he asked.

He scolded himself. Nightwing... he was going through something. He could see it in his eyes. The way he carried himself and the dark circles under his eyes. He was deep into... something and he wasn’t sure if he should ask this of him.

“Jason, sweetheart, I want you to promise me something,” she’d said.

Her 9-year-old looked up at her. “Yes, mommy?”

Some of the other kids picked on him for continuing to call his mom ‘mommy’. He didn’t care. She was sick and he loved her.

He’d do anything she asked.

“If it ever comes down to you, or someone else, I want you to choose yourself.”

He’d been confused. “What?”

“Someday,” she’d said, carding her gentle fingers through his hair, “Someone’s going to want to hurt you. And they won’t stop at anything to do it. It’ll come down to a decision; them, or you. I want you to choose you. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

The memory tore its way through his brain. He’d forgotten about that day.

He hadn’t known what she meant then. Even though he’d been far from innocent as a nine-year-old, entirely against his will, he hadn’t known. But he was 15 now, 16 that August.

He sure as fuck knew now.

… He’d never disobeyed a big order like this from Bruce. The thought made his stomach sour. But.

Isn’t that the thing? There’s always a ‘but’ involved.

These people would stop at nothing to hurt them. They’d stop at nothing to kill him if given the chance. It was something he was now painfully intimately aware of.

It’s such an awful feeling, knowing that one day, you didn’t come back home the same. He’d been avoiding processing it fully for Phantom’s sake, but it ripped something out from him now. Was this how Nightwing felt that night? When he’d shown up, uniform ripped, something unidentifiable in his eyes and sat on the couch, staring at nothing for hours? Sobbing in Batman’s, no, his dad’s  arms?

How had he gotten through it? How would he, so far from home? He swallowed, hard.

He was not Jason Todd. He was not Robin. He was Cardinal, and he was totally in control of this situation. That’s what he had to keep telling himself.

He was totally in control of the situation. He could have whatever crisis he needed to about it later. Right now, he needed to keep a level head and focus on Phantom.

He looked over at the other boy. He could still feel pain rocking down his body, nearly overwhelming him. If he hadn’t been trained by the best of the best, he probably wouldn’t have been able to breathe through it. The bat himself would’ve been better at it, but he still wasn’t half-bad.

Phantom looked at him like he’d just watched him do something impressive. It didn’t feel very impressive, but he smiled at him regardless.

“Dude,” he whispered. “You gotta show me how to do that.”

He laughed a bit. “Yeah, maybe I will.”

They’d finished their food and water. Cardinal shoved the empty bottles into his hoodie pocket for later, shoving the wrappers back into the cabinet. It was getting to be uncomfortable just how routine it felt.

The keys jingled shortly after. Just a bathroom break.

One of the agents that would be called in if they thought they needed to be held down took them to the bathroom. The usual crowd of lower levels were there, looking at them and waving. They never tried to speak to them; they couldn’t, or they’d be yelled at. But they always waved, and usually-

One of them pressed something into Phantom’s hand. He smiled at them, mouthed thank you, and kept walking. Cardinal himself felt something being slipped into his hoodie. He looked up at the person who did so. He winked, pressing his finger to his lips.

Out of all of them, they thought they were the coolest here. He wasn’t willing to trust them; they were still working for the GIW. But, in a weird way, he thought they were being more genuine than Agent A was.

They went into the bathroom, did what they needed to in the stalls, then walked out to the sinks. It was vaguely unsanitary, but now more than ever they trusted the water from the bathroom more than any unsealed bottles Agent A stuck in the cabinet. She’d already shown her true colors. He didn’t care that she was ‘concerned’ afterwards.

Going back was also an uneventful affair. Phantom had started letting out pulses of ectoplasm after they came back to kill any bugs they planted- it was actually really nice, not being worried about whether or not they’d missed one. He was still vaguely concerned, however, that they were going to come back one day and find them in the ceiling. He really needed to learn to control his powers so they could move the stash somewhere.

No. He needed to learn how to use his powers so they could escape.

They hadn’t dared look to their prizes until they were safely back in the room. Phantom had some candy- Cardinal had a note with a single word.

“Soon."

It was dated June 4 th . They had no idea what it meant. It wasn’t signed. Was June 4 th the date today? Was it a date in the future? Had it already passed?

He had no idea. He wasn’t used to having no idea. He took a deep breath.

If the note was any indication, he’d find out... soon. He could live with that.

Phantom got his passion project out of the ceiling. He’d done a remarkable job on it so far; it only needed a few more finishing touches.

“Cardinal,” he was holding it up. “We can’t shoot it in here, for obvious reasons,” he rolled his eyes, “But this is yours. If I bond it to my ectoplasm, you won’t be able to use it. I’m not opposed, but I wanted to give you the option.”

He nodded. He took the gun. He stared at the little connector that had recently ruined his life. “What do I do?”

He hooked it to his wrist, being gentle and watching his reactions. He pressed a button.

The whole thing started glowing green. “Okay,” he said quietly, “You need to keep that connected for a bit, so it can get used to you. If you need a break or to disconnect it, press this button-” he pointed to the button in question- “First. If you don’t, you might mess the whole thing up. That, obviously, is not good.”

He nodded. “And I just pull the trigger and it goes off? How do I cock it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know who designed this initially, but it’s pretty advanced. You don’t need to cock it; it doesn’t even have a safety on it.” He rolled his eyes, exasperated. “It’s like they wanted this thing to go off on a random Tuesday. No wonder it was abandoned; the whole design is unsafe.”

“But it’s the best we’ve got.”

He got quiet. “Yeah. It’s the best we got.”

They were quiet. Phantom checked over the gun on occasion, and eventually deemed it ready to go. They stuck it safely back into the ceiling, along with the note and the candy. No sooner were his feet on the ground did the jingle of keys catch their attention.

Agent V stormed in. “You unpicked his stitches,” she said dangerously.

He looked at her. “What?”

“I stitched that one’s-” she pointed at Jason, “Mouth shut yesterday. And now it’s undone. Why?”

“Because I wasn’t going to do anything and there was a scalpel sitting there? Why does it matter, his blood-”

“Shut up! You had no right to do that!”

“Didn’t I?” He asked, baffled.

“You do not take that tone with me, do you hear me, maggot? You do as I say, or you don’t do anything at all!”

“What did I do wrong here?! You never said I couldn’t take out his stitches-”

She stalked forwards, grabbing him and pulling him up. “You things are so fucking needy. You wanna know what we do too needy? I’ll fucking show you.”

“You can’t-!”

“Shut up, dog, unless you want to get punished, too,” she growled. He looked at him, still gripping Phantom’s shirt. She looked at Cardinal for a few more moments. “Get up,” she demanded.

He did as she said. He was tempted to hit her, but she beat him to it.

She stepped forwards and slapped him, her hand landing right over his ear, hard. As much as he tried not to be afraid, the loud ‘Pop!’ and the rush of blood terrified him.

He fell to the floor. Phantom looked at him with wide eyes.

Before either of them realized what her intention was, she had Phantom out of the room. He tried to run forwards to follow them, but they were already out the door. She had replaced the locks. He could hear Phantom still screaming obscenities, Agent A making threats. He was terrified of what was about to happen. He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm.

He thought of what his mom said. He thought of the note.

… If he weren’t curious about the note and its contents, he’d be planning their escape for tonight. He would’ve thought it sounded sinister if it weren't for the group that wrote it. He didn’t trust them, but you know what they say. Satisfaction resurrects cats killed my curiosity, and all that. Besides, he knew they couldn’t live like this. Sooner or later, and he had a feeling it’d be sooner, something would give, and they’d never be able to get it back. He had the sickening feeling that he knew they wouldn’t be able to escape on their own.

Waiting was hell. Both for ‘soon’ to happen and for Phantom to come back, because he had to come back. A million different thoughts ran through his head. His right ear was weird, and he couldn’t hear out of his left at all. It was like someone had shoved some earplugs into him. He felt bile rising in his throat at the thought.

Before he knew it, Phantom was thrown back into the room. His shirt was off and bundled in his arms. He had tears and snot in his eyes. His back looked like someone had whipped him, over and over again like a broken record.

They said nothing. They didn’t need to. It was obvious enough what had happened, and it was obvious he was embarrassed about it.

He took down the first aid kit, cleaning his back methodically. He hadn’t dressed the wounds yet when they heard more keys and footsteps. They halfway expected Agent A to be there to ‘care’ about them. Instead, they found Agent J with new clothes, ordering the pair to follow them to take a shower.

They went obediently. Cardinal helped Phantom walk, and when they got to the shower, he helped carefully wash his back a bit more thoroughly, taking his time to avoid the lacerations and cuts that had formed. When they got out, their shoes and his gloves, masks, and belt were still there, along with the new clothes. Nothing was missing out of his belt; he assumed that they assumed he didn’t have it on. He put on the red sleeveless hoodie over his belt, along with the tighter-fitting black sweats. Phantom threw on a gray hoodie with blue, loose sweats.

When they got back to the room, Cardinal methodically dressed Phantom’s wounds and tried to talk to him.

If something really was happening soon, they needed to be prepared. They made a mental list of things they can carry on them. Phantom grabbed everything out of the hidey hole that he could. Cardinal stuffed his belt to the gills with food and medical supplies stolen from the kit, the gun and dull baterang in the pocket on his left. He watched Phantom stick the journals in his torso; he was slightly jealous. That was so cool.

He smiled as best as he could. He could tell Phantom was tired. He was, too.

Being here was like having your soul sucked out of you. He could feel it in every moment he spent worrying about the future, worrying about their present, if they were going to survive. They were so tired of surviving.

Soon. That could mean so many things.

He closed his eyes and thought of Batman. He’d already done everything he possibly could to ensure Cardinal’s survival. He wouldn’t just throw him away the moment he made a questionable decision. Breathe in. Breathe out.

… Nightwing was likely going to burn this place to the ground, though. He was going to help him.

He’d waited this long to see what would happen. They were so close. Being impatient now could wreck everything they had built.

He focused on Phantom, making sure he was as comfortable as they could get him on the cot. He handed him a bottle of water and a snack, telling him to eat it.

He asked for the red journal. Living with the bat definitely damaged your psyche in some way; he began making contingencies, different plans for different scenarios. They didn’t have much to work with.

They had enough. They had a gun. They had each other. They had the information they’d overheard from the group of lower ranked agents and from passing conversation between the agents.

They got this. They had to have this. The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how serious this all was. This wasn’t just them they were talking about; what if there were more people like this? Ones they didn’t know about? The pits were everywhere; they could have created more people like him.

Their quality of life mattered. All the ghost’s lives mattered. At this point, he didn’t care for the motivations of mad men. This was a genocide. And it was the hero’s job to stop it.

Could he even be considered a hero anymore?

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

thinking about reed's worldview & morality makes me feel sooo insane this guy contains such multitudes it's crazy

(major spoilers for reed's backstory)

like i mean when you take into account all of tesilid's timelines you see him at his lowest and then get up from it and you realise that hey his lowest was pretty low but it really is so far from his default. he did commit atrocities but like it's not an inherent part of him. when he decided comitting atrocities wasn't worth it anymore he did just stop, because being evil wasn't really very important to him anyway.

my read on reed's motivation is that it's not really about him being evil and wanting to cause pain, but a desperate attempt to save himself. i don't really see all his mass murdering as him being inherently evil tbh because like. he had saved the world 8+ times and all of that reset. what is the worth of other people's lives, when any joy they experience, any pain they felt, would no longer exist except for in his memories? i think to reed, every other person becomes like a video game character. it's perhaps disturbing but the immorality of killing them is a little suspect because death and suffering doesn't even have long-term consequences for said person anyway. reed causing some massive destruction is just... morbid entertainment? reed certainly smiles (smirks) more than he ever does as tesilid. glad he's having fun(?). like everyone in the timeline is going to die anyway according to his plans, and they and anyone else who lived didn't have a future even if he did fail, so what does it matter if they died now or not.

but even after he's become uncorrupted tesilid again, it's still clear that he remains angry and vengeful. he chokes and scares the bandit leader Just Because. The bandit leader in this timeline doesn't even know what tesilid is taking revenge for, so all that scaring is really just for tesilid's own satisfaction. Scaring the hell out of the bandit leader is important enough to tesilid that he risks ailette seeing this happen if she just turned around a little early. And in the pandora's box dungeon, he lied to the order of light pillars about having lost his memories about the sculptor's atelier, but "don't worry my memories are coming back!" There's literally no reason for him to lie in this particular way, if not to see them squirm. and he purposely leaves them with ailette, whom he knows will beat them black and blue for him. he's still going to sacrifice himself for others and put himself in danger, but he's not above some schadenfreude and taking delight in the pain of those who'd wronged him, he's not some saint.

he's still angry and vengeful but even as readers we rarely get to see this side of him, because there are things more important to him than revenge. And doesn't that say something about his capacity to love and to be good. Even after hitting the lowest of low, he still picks himself up. He cares about Ailette's safety so much and tries to get along with her family. I kind of wonder if he woke up and went yeah that "destroy everything" plan was kind of whatever let's try something else this time, and picked up his moral compass where he dropped it under the kitchen counter. his attitude to cardinal cartelyena dooming him to a really terribad punishment is really just "yah i was objectively bad so i don't even hold anything against you lol".

like. shakes him up and down. the way he decides to mass murder and then some time after goes actually you know what sorry god that wasn't very nice of me i think i'll be good this time and he genuinely means it. it's so funny he has such a range and it doesn't compromise the integrity of his character at all, his core still feels the same. do you get me. like he's always been intrinsically inclined towards doing good and he has a great deal of patience, but he can also snap and be angry and decide to just be evil but it also doesnt make his inclinations towards goodness any less real you know what i mean.

also he's so good at lying that it's funny. he's lying all the time and no one even questions it, because why would he lie? he's the pushover doormat who always sacrifices himself for others. the only way you would know that he's lying was if you already somehow knew the truth. and you sure as hell aren't getting it out of him. honesty being a virtue (generally speaking) and he doesn't have an ounce of it. and none of the people in universe would even consider it.

edit: i realised that it's not really accurate to say that destroying the world wasn't that important to reed anyway, because reed did expressedly reject ailette because he was so hell-bent on destroying the world. ah well we all have times when we hit rock bottom and he sure hit at least 500km past that. whatever, the point is that he did that and then went oh whoops let's not do that this time and genuinely meant it. what a guy. i love all the character development he goes through. and the great changes he goes through doesn't feel contrived at all.