#but yeah like people do the alternate reality thing and everything but i just think it's a cool take

[autumnrory]

fic rec

title: And You May Find Yourself author: roguewrld pairing: steve/bucky words: 16442 summary: "There’s two possibilities here. One, I’m right and none of this is real, which makes this morning some pretty elaborate masturbation. Or two, you’re right, all of this is real and you and your Steve Rogers share a life in that apartment. In that case, I’m sure I’m generous enough to share with myself." Steve wakes up in the year 2025, with Bucky beside him in bed and a life that's just a little too good to be true. ao3

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Divisa; Five

Pairing(s); OT4 (5 possible 👀) x non- mc reader

^ each ending for a different LI and one ending with all

Word count; 2,285

Themes; reality hopping, alternative universe (same as in-game, but things are a little different!), doppelganger, multiple endings, slow-burn

Notes; Second update of the day 😤 my Tumblr is still acting wack, so this probably won't be edited much (italics and such), but it shouldn't hinder the reading experience!

prev || next

☆ Masterlist ☆

Well damn, there go your plans for the day, but at least you found a job! That's something to be proud of.

Baby steps…

You shake your head as you step outside of the Sugar Spoon cafe. Baby steps are better than nothing.

As for what to do with the rest of your day…you could stop by the Nest once again to look for Ezekiel and then after that you could head to Rafayel's art exhibit – maybe get that painting of your mom from him.

Hopefully you wouldn't have to use your Evol again. You were still feeling a little lethargic from the last usage. Your gaze drifts down to your hand and you flex it into a fist, watching the red and black energy crackle and swirl across your knuckles.

This had to be Sylus's Evol. But you're not exactly sure if you stole it from him or if it's just being borrowed for a short time. You hope for the latter, considering if you actually stole Sylus's Evol…he might kill you.

Let's say you borrowed it.

Yeah. That would ease your mind, even just a little bit.

Think of it like…Rogue from X-Men. You borrow powers with a single touch.

You could probably try it out on Rafayel later.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you begin to look around at all the people walking around Azure Square, the hoard of them waiting outside Philo for bouquets…

You fix your mask over your nose and start your short walk over to The Nest. Thankfully Azure Square was akin to an outlet mall, everything was close by and basically modeled around the picturesque water fountain in the center.

The bell above the door chimes as you step inside and you make your way over to the bar, getting comfortable on one of the plush barstools.

As you drum your fingertips against the marbled counter, a bartender makes his way over to you, “Would you – “

“Two red wines.” You hear a voice from behind you, your shoulders tensing up at how familiar the deep voice sounds, but you refuse to turn around.

…Maybe if you just ignore him, he'll go away…

“Are you trying to ignore me, sweetie?” You felt a light tapping on your shoulder and clear your throat, “Of course not, Carrion. I'd never ignore you. But I did hope you'd leave me alone…” You turn your head to look at the man behind you, giving him a once over before you sigh.

“Are you upset because I – “

“Because you ignored me? Only an insecure man would be upset over that.” Sylus crosses his arms over his chest and – while he may be hot, if he cuts you off one more time…

“I was going to say for borrowing your Evol.” You hum, lazily lifting your finger up in the air. A dark energy swirls around your finger before it wraps around his tie, yanking his body toward you until his chest is pressed against your back. “But…only an insecure man would be upset over that.” You throw his words back at him as the two wine glasses are set down in front of you.

You feel his breath against your ear as he scoffs, “Oh? So this is what you can do?” He muses, brushing the energy away from him as he takes a seat next to you at the bar. “Well isn't that intriguing…” His fingers rap against the marbled counter before he lifts his glass up, swirling the crimson liquid in a circular motion. Then, he tilts his head back, emptying the glass all at once.

As much as you'd love to have your drink…The mask stays on.

“Drink mine too.” You jerk your head in the direction of your glass. “I'm looking for someone, can't afford to drink and miss them, ya know?” When you lock eyes with Sylus, you swear you saw his right eye glow, but you quickly look away before anything can happen.

“Hmm…” Sylus tsks. “Who caught your eye? They can't be any better than me, that's for sure.” He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm.

“I'm not looking for anyone like that.” You shake your head, however you almost fall out of your seat as another person enters the bar.

Silver hair…blue eyes…

Nope.

No.

You quickly turn back to face the bar, clearing your throat and deciding to use Sylus if he's offering. “I'm looking for Ezekiel. I was told he spends most of his time here, drinking.”

“The washed up hunter?” Sylus nods his head, his gaze drifts from Xavier and then back to you. “He caused quite the stir a few months ago, so he might be a bit harder to find.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head to the side, brows knitting together. “What happened?”

“He ran up to a famous hunter in tears, claiming she was his daughter.” The white haired man shrugs. “But then after she spoke, he left. So everyone just assumes he's going a bit crazy. You still sure you want to find him?”

Gemini.

He must've seen her…You felt your chest tightening as your gaze drifts to the floor. You could only imagine the pain of seeing someone who looks like your daughter, only for it not to be her. Especially a man who has been grieving for both his wife and daughter for over twenty years.

You clear your throat and firmly nod your head, “Of course I'm sure. That's my dad, I can't just…”

“Back corner of the room.” Sylus jerks his chin in the direction he barked out. “All alone, drinking. It's sad, really.”

But before you can walk away, you feel his fingertips brush against your shoulder. “I'd be careful saying you're his daughter, though. Y/n is trouble and, if you look like her, that's also trouble for you.”

Hmm…since Sylus is offering up information like that… “I may look like her, but we’re two entirely different people, trust me. The trouble that’s after her would be disappointed to find me instead.” It’s definitely not a lie. Anyone from Ever or the other love interests would be disappointed to find you instead. You don’t have an Aether Core nor do you have a Resonance Evol. “But before I go…” You spin back around to grab Sylus’s hand, smiling with your eyes as you speak, “If you don’t mind, I’ll be borrowing your Evol for a little bit longer.”

Then, you turn your head back to the corner of the room. Eyes set on the man seated on a bar stool, throwing back glasses of rum and coke. You throw your hand up as you walk away from Sylus and make your way over to Ezekiel - your father. You take a seat next to him at the bar, gently tapping the marbled counter with your fingers.

You brush aside the thought that Xavier, or even Sylus, could see you and you tug down your mask under your chin. Then, you clear your throat, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. You take a deep breath and lightly tap his shoulder. “Excuse me…” When he finally looks toward you, you give him a tiny wave, “Hey…”

“Look, I don’t - “ Ezekiel pauses, squinting his eyes at you as he wonders if maybe he did drink too much tonight. A groan slips from his lips and he rubs his eyes. “I think I drank too much…”

“Does this look familiar to you?” You take the polaroid out of your wallet and slide it over to him. “I’m honestly just as confused as you are.” You nervously chew on your bottom lip and decide to order yourself something sweet to drink since this is the longest you’ve left your mask down all day. “Are you really…?” He has a hopeful look on his face and the smallest of smiles tugs at his lips, “How’s M/n (Mom’s name) doing?”

His question really tugs at your heartstrings, because it’s the very first thing he asks. The first thing he worries about is your mother. A small smile tugs at your lips and you lightly shake your head, “She doesn’t really talk about it with me. She never remarried, she always seemed a bit sad, but I assumed it was because you were dead…Not separated like this. How did this even happen?”

No, seriously. That was an important question. You were so confused how this game world was somehow real and even how your mother got here. You assume it has something to do with your necklace, the reality stone or whatever it was called, but you’re still not sure of the logistics of it all.

“Your mother didn’t know much about it either. Though, she knew more than you since she told me it could only transport two people between realities. I did some more research after she was gone and I found that it’s supposed to help people find their soulmates no matter where they are.” Ezekiel says, but his voice is filled with confusion. Even he doesn’t fully understand it.

“Then, why didn’t she go back with you?” You ask, your hand subconsciously reaching up to grab the necklace that was under your shirt. “She was pregnant with you.” He sighs, running his index finger around the rim of his cup, “We were going to stay here and raise you in Linkon, but when a Deepspace Tunnel opened up in our home…All I could think about was keeping you both safe, so I told her to leave without me.”

“And…do you know why there’s another me running around because that’s really freaking me out.” It was a lot to take in, honestly. The fact that Linkon, that this universe, was the one you were supposed to be born in and that your mother had to be separated from her love to keep you both safe.

“Well…The only idea I have is, since your mother was pregnant with you when she left, the universe created another you to make up for the fact that you left, but the universe couldn’t make you both identical since they had no idea what you would look like and that’s how she came to be.” Ezekiel rubs his temples as if he felt a headache coming on. “I’m not entirely sure, and it’s dizzying to think about.”

That made the most sense to you as well. If you were supposed to be born here, you were already written in this universe, so it makes sense to create another you since you’re not here. But were you really that important to this world to where they needed to make a second you? But also if this stone sent you to a universe where your soulmate would be…That means your grandma really was engaged to a crown prince in another universe, and that you would find your own soulmate here. You’d bet your right arm that you were also the first in your family to be sent to the same universe as your parent, because that’s also a weird coincidence. What was so important in Linkon that two generations of your family were sent here?

“Well, good thing I still have the stone.” You’re thankful you haven’t taken it off and lost it, but you shouldn’t count your chickens before they hatch. “Oh, actually! Do you want to head to Azure Square with me and pick up a painting of Mom?” You unlock your phone to shoot a text to Rafayel about meeting up to collect the canvas.

You; “Hey! This is Comet from the Nest. Could I pick up that painting today in Azure Square?”

Rafayel; “?!”

“duh! U can pick it up today”

“my showcase is today but i can always sneak out for U”

Oh shoot, you forgot Auntie Taryn mentioned he had a showcase today. You pondered the idea of going in to pick it up, but there was always a risk of running into Gemini…

You; “It’s fine! I can always pick it up tomorrow, I don’t want to bother you”

Rafayel; “dun worry about it”

“U could never bother me”

“ill b out in a sec, gotta sneak away from thomas”

You put your phone back into your pocket and pull your mask up over your nose. “We’re good! He should be able to meet us in Azure Square in a few.” Ezekiel pauses for a moment, finally taking in what you said. “Wait, you mean the painting of your mother I had commissioned a few years ago from Rafayel? You have that artist’s number? How long have you been here again?” He raises a brow, suddenly feeling really worried about his daughter. You’ve only been here for a day or two and you’re already close enough with a famous artist that he’s willing to run out of his exhibit to run an errand for you?

“It’s not like that, Dad.” You lightly shove his shoulder with a small laugh. “I sold some of grandma’s antique coins to him in exchange for her painting.” You decide to leave out the fact that you also met the leader of Onychinus, because he’d probably have a heart attack on the spot. The two of you stand up and get ready to walk out of the Nest, but you feel someone catch you by the wrist.

You immediately tense up, feeling the now familiar energy swirling around your palm as you get ready to fight whoever grabbed you, but when you turn your head, you freeze.

Why the hell was Xavier stopping you? And why did he have that look on his face? That one sickeningly adorable expression that reminded you of a kicked puppy.

Taglist; @ladyparamount , @the-love-of-my-life96 , @rui-drawsbox , @deputy-videogamer , @yoongi-tunes , @fallenfromgrxce , @msturi2u , @myheartfollower, @schwnapps , @m00nchildwrites , @black-girl-anime-lover , @shypotatoes013-blog , @mitzkooni , @stxrrielle , @yournextdoorhousewitch , @lifeisnotyahoo , @hon3yydew , @lavvytae, @snowdynasty

[coraniaid]

The thing about Kendra is that ... okay. There is a version of the show in my head in which both meeting and then failing to save Kendra are huge, pivotal moments in Buffy's life. They should both have had a huge impact on her. Kendra is the first other Slayer Buffy ever meets, the embodiment of everything Buffy has been told a Slayer should be, a challenge to Buffy's sense of her self as "the one and only Chosen" [as, of all people, Faith will put it five years later].

Becoming (Part 1) even teases the idea that Kendra's death will be a turning point in Buffy's story. "Even if you see them coming, you're not ready for the big moments," Whistler narrates in voice over as Buffy rushes back to the library. "Nobody asks for their life to change [...] but it does," he says, as Buffy finds Kendra lying dead on the floor and tearfully takes her hand. "It's what you do afterwards that counts," he tells us. The framing here is pretty clear: what are we meant to do but assume that Kendra's death is a "big moment" that will change Buffy's life forever?

I don't think I can imagine writing a version of Buffy who isn't fundamentally changed by this moment. Who isn't thinking about Kendra when she takes the bus out of Sunnydale, or when Angel comes back from hell next season, or when Drusilla comes back to Sunnydale three years later. Who isn't reminded of her almost every time she sees Faith: who isn't thinking about her when she insists to her skeptical Watcher and her friends that, no matter what, this time she's going to find a way to save her fellow Slayer. Who isn't thinking about what Kendra told her about being raised by her Watcher and never having anything resembling a normal life when she confronts Quentin Travers in Helpless or Checkpoint. Who isn't thinking at least a little bit about Kendra when she complains in The Gift how hard it is to live in a world where "everything gets stripped away". Who isn't missing her dead friend all through Season 7, and wondering whether Kendra -- who read the handbook and knew all the rules -- would have done a better job leading the Potentials than she could.

Only, well. Hand on heart, I don't think this is an accurate description of what canonically happens on screen after Season 2. In the version of the show that I like to think about, Kendra is important and her life and her death matter enormously. But in the version of the show that was actually filmed and aired ... well, like Whistler says, it's what you do afterwards that counts. And what the show does after Becoming is to almost immediately forget Kendra ever existed. Nobody but Cordelia ever says her name out loud (and even that's just a single throwaway line to get the audience up to speed about Faith). Buffy never mentions where "Mr Pointy" came from to anyone; she never mentions Kendra to Faith or Dawn or any of the Potentials. Kendra doesn't show up in dreams or prophetic visions; we don't see her alive in the alternate reality of The Wish or trapped in a clinic alongside 'the real' Buffy in Normal Again; the First Evil never bothers to take on her appearance. The closest we ever get to coming back to Buffy finding her body in the library -- that "big moment" that was going to change Buffy's life -- are a couple of lines in Dead Man's Party where Joyce and Oz note that the police no longer suspect Buffy of Kendra's murder ("oh, good," says Buffy, "that was such a drag").

I can't imagine writing a version of the show where Kendra didn't matter, but I don't have to: that's the version that actually got written.

And yeah, that's infuriating -- like so much else about how Kendra was treated by the show -- but I think if you start talking about how much Kendra's death means to Buffy you do need to acknowledge that you're not talking about the version of the show that everybody else actually watched. Kendra really isn't haunting the narrative in any meaningful way. I wouldn't be surprised if most casual fans of the show don't remember she existed. For that matter, I genuinely don't think some of the people writing for the show in its last few seasons remembered she existed. It almost feels like an insult to Bianca Lawson to pretend that the show that treated her and the character she played with so little respect actually always intended her to have this huge posthumous importance (and ... I guess ... just kept forgetting to invite her back?).

Even her last name -- Kendra Young, we were told after the show ended -- feels like a bit of an odd afterthought. One of the few things the show told us about Kendra was that she didn't remember her parents and didn't have a last name. But, well. Why would the writers of the show suddenly start caring about little things like that?

[suzukiblu]

what do you have for Clark kent?

Clark is the last son of Krypton.

Clark is the last of Krypton.

At least, that's what he thought thirty seconds ago.

"Uh," the kid standing in the middle of the broken-up Metropolis street in front of him says awkwardly, a gloved hand half-covering the bright and bold and undeniable emblem on his chest. There's a lot of surrounding property damage, a lot of staring civilians hovering on the sidewalk, and some very upset police officers cuffing up some very unconscious metahuman gang members. Clark can't even begin to bring himself to care about any of it. "Hey . . . ?"

"Hello," Diana says, raising a curious eyebrow at both the kid and the ridiculous mess that's somehow been made of the street. From the look of it maybe one of those gang members had some kind of tectonic-based abilities or something similar, but Clark continues not to care. "It seems we've encountered an admirer of yours, Kal."

"You're wearing that crest without permission," Bruce says flatly, looking less amused than Clark has seen him since the last time someone died on the League's watch.

Clark, meanwhile, can't say anything at all.

"Hey, Superman gave me permission, okay?!" the kid protests, bristling defensively. Clutching the emblem . . . protectively. Like he's afraid to have it taken away. "Just not, uh . . . this one."

"This one." Bruce frowns. The kid flattens his hand against his chest and just . . . shrugs, looking away. Clark can't look away from him at all. He looks like . . . he looks . . .

"Yeah," the kid says, gesturing a little directionlessly with his free hand. "I'm kinda not, like . . . local? There was like this whole thing, like with Hypertime and–it's complicated, okay? Just, like, it's an alternate reality issue. I'm sort of, uh . . . lost. Or–stranded, more like. I guess more like . . . stranded."

The kid swallows. Drops his hand away from the emblem and folds his arms over it instead.

Keeps standing there, looking like . . .

"Are you, now," Bruce says neutrally, and he's definitely going somewhere with that, but–

"You're Kryptonian," Clark blurts, because he can't hold the words back a moment longer. Diana and Bruce both go very still beside him. The kid just looks surprised.

"Uh, not really?" he says. "I mean, okay, sort of. I'm a binary clone of . . . you know, like a hybrid? Um, they based me off, well . . . our Superman. And then, like, stitched me up with human DNA to hold me together 'cuz the Kryptonian genome is a freaking nightmare and they couldn't really figure it out all that well, so otherwise I would've degraded and–uh. Sorry."

Clark feels something he doesn't think he's ever felt in his life, looking at this kid. Feels like he's been dragging himself through the uncanny valley and finally seen the other side of the thing; like he's finally crossed through the fog and darkness and come out into the clear light of day and seen what people are actually supposed to look like. Everything about him is just . . . right. The pitch of his voice, the slope of his shoulders, the way the sunlight reflects off his skin, the pattern of spokes in his irises, the color of his eyes, the weight of him in the world . . .

Clark wants to snatch this kid up and wrap him in his cape and never let anything else touch him. Never let him be hurt or upset or–or alone. Never. Not for anything.

He feels the way he's heard people describe feeling when they first met . . . when they first . . .

He feels the way he's heard people describe feeling when they first met their child. A sense of awe and wonder and . . . and . . .

He feels like he felt the first time he left the atmosphere and saw all of Earth all at once. Everything on it, everyone on it. The whole thing all together, all the same. Perfect.

Complete.

He's never loved anything this immediately, Clark realizes distantly. Not even that first full glimpse of Earth.

He can't imagine how he ever, ever could have.

"What's your name?" he asks, unable to shake the intensity of emotion held painfully tight in his chest. Not even wanting to shake it.

The kid looks–worried, almost. Puts his hands behind his back. Clark can see the full image of the El crest emblazoned in pride of place across his chest for the first time, and it makes him feel weak.

"Superboy," the kid says. "Um . . . Kon-El."

Clark's heart could burst, hearing that.

Or break.

"Kon-El," he echoes, forcing himself not to step in closer; not to crowd the kid. "I had a . . . on Krypton, before it was destroyed, there was . . ."

"A cousin. From the, uh, second house of El," the kid–Kon-El–agrees, shifting just barely anxiously. "My Superman said I . . . reminded him of him, like from what he saw in the recordings and all? So, uh . . ."

"I named you after him?" Clark asks wonderingly. He would've given the kid a human name over a Kryptonian one, himself, but then again, a public street in an alternate dimension isn't really the place for him to be introducing himself as "Jon Kent" or anything similar. Kon nods stiffly, drawing himself up a bit.

"Yeah," he says. "He said, uh–um. He said Kon-El was strong-willed. And . . . uh . . ."

He trails off, looking nervous, and then visibly steels himself and looks defensive again instead.

"He said I was family," he says, squaring his shoulders and lifting his jaw, like he's actually expecting someone to argue with him or something. "So he gave me that name."

Clark doesn't know who the hell made this kid so much as hesitate over saying that to any version of him that isn't an active supervillain, but he thinks he'd like to throw them into the Phantom Zone for a century or two. Just . . . that's all.

Or maybe three.

[djarins-cyare]

I have so many questions about "Din needs an iphone charger to find out what Pedro Pascal looks like" 🤣 Is Din in a modern-day AU? Are we in a wormhole where the Mandalorian, iphones, and Pedro exist together? Is this code for an upgrade on his helmet tech?

Hey Cas! Thanks for asking about this one; it’s one of my favourites!

I love all your ideas, but this is your classic “Earthling in the SWU” story, except with a kind of… meta twist, I guess. I’ll do my best to explain.

Usually, when you get an Earthling in the SWU fic, it’s just assumed that Din would look like Pedro because that’s what he looks like on our screens. But what does that say about the universe our Earthling Reader has ended up in? Have they been sucked into the TV? Are they now in an entirely fictional universe? How can it exist? Or have they been transported into an AU?

To my mind, there are three possibilities:

Yeah, our Earthling Reader has been transported into the fictional realm created by George Lucas and specifically crafted by John Favreau and Dave Filoni, and Din does indeed look like Pedro. It’s like the movies Last Action Hero and Pleasantville – they’re literally sucked inside the movie or TV. This is uncomfortably deterministic since every event is crafted by writers, so essentially, it makes Favroni into gods. Everything that happens to our Earthling!Reader in that realm is predetermined since we know how Star Wars turns out. I don’t like this option much.

Although Star Wars began as fiction, our Earthling!Reader wanted to be part of it so badly that they somehow wished it into existence. So now, a new universe exists IRL, and they have been transported into it. Since it started as fiction, Din does indeed look like Pedro. This universe is a brand new offshoot and not subject to the fictional rules of Star Wars, so our Earthling!Reader can manipulate events to change the outcome of things. I like this option!

The Star Wars Universe exists as a real alternate universe somewhere alongside ours, and somehow (let’s say via the Force or some lowkey Earthly version of it), George Lucas and other prominent Star Wars writers have dreamed/sensed the events occurring over there and have woven them into stories. They think they have great imaginations, but they’re actually Force-sensitive or as close as you can get to it in this universe. Perhaps Favreau cast Pedro as Din specifically because, in his mind’s eye, that actor looked the most like the person he saw in his visions/imagination. In this scenario, the version of Din that our Earthling!Reader meets may not look precisely like Pedro at all. Similar, yes, all the features match up on paper, but somehow slightly different. This is an intriguing option.

In this fic (which I have now given the hasty title: Face Reality), Earthling!Reader has no idea which of the above options applies, although she has been very honest with Din about where she comes from. She explains that in her “universe” (for want of a better word since she doesn’t know if it’s an actual AU), his story and the stories of others he knows are told as fiction for entertainment. In an effort to spare him the existential crisis of “OMG, I’m just a character in someone’s narrative, I’m not a Real Boy”, she continues with the idea of this place being an already-existing universe that people in her world can sense (i.e. option number 3 above), but the question of whether he looks like Pedro or not comes up…

…particularly when Din discovers that some of the stories are visual. He freaks out. He worries an entire universe of people might have seen him without his helmet, and his creed is now in tatters. So, he becomes obsessed with finding out precisely what Pedro looks like and whether or not they’re identical. The trouble is, everything that Earthling!Reader tells him seems to fit him exactly.

So yeah. He’s having an existential crisis… she’s having an existential crisis… and, oh yeah, they both fancy the fuck out of each other.

Lots going on!

I actually have several scenes of this written already, but most are pretty piecemeal. I’ve got bits of the one where they meet, and everything I explained above comes out, but it’s very raw and unedited. Fortunately, the one where they talk about the iPhone charger was pretty solid already, so I’ve decided to give you the whole of that one, which is like 1k words (admittedly, I polished it up a little first and tweaked it to make it self-contained). Enjoy!

This WIP Folder game is really helping me get some of my WIPs in shape, I’m loving it!

Face Reality

“Tell me what he looks like,” Din asks. “Describe him.”

Not this again. He’s been relentlessly interrogating you about Pedro’s appearance for two days now.

“I already did. How many times do you need to hear it before you quit asking?”

He shakes his helmet. “However many it takes to figure this out. Your description could fit millions of humans across the galaxy – me included.”

You know he’s prevaricating. You’ve described the man’s teeth, for fuck’s sake – there are definitely not millions of humans with an extra tooth in front of their lower right lateral incisor. No, the problem is less about your descriptive skills and more about his increasing panic with every new detail you offer.

You’ve tried reassuring him. You’ve tried arguing with him. This time, you take a futile stab at redirecting him. “Well, at least we’ve established you don’t look like Brendan Wayne. That’s a win.”

The withering look Din sends your way comes through the barrier of his visor loud and clear.

“I need more,” he insists, desperation edging his tone. “If he looks like me, and you’ve seen my face….”

A strangled sound of irritation escapes you as you press your palms against your closed eyes. For a guy who’s recently learned his entire existence is considered a work of fiction in your reality, he’s freakishly hung up on his religious adherence. Or maybe it’s the fact that if he does look like Pedro, he’ll need to face the fact that he’s essentially a copy of someone else and not a Real Boy in his own right.

And you get it; you do. But it’s also fucking frustrating when you’ve got some pretty insurmountable problems of your own. After all, you still don’t know how you got here, nor where ‘here’ actually is. Were you sucked into your TV and all this is fiction, or are you in an independently existing alternate universe that George Lucas has dreams about that he makes into movies?

Your companion is not the only one having an existential crisis here.

“There must be more you can tell me. Be specific,” Din demands, and his unyielding insistence triggers your frayed nerves to finally unravel. You miss home, and being stuck in a possibly fictional universe is enough of a headfuck without this endless back-and-forth.

“I’ve been as specific as I can be!” you snap. “I’ve described everything about him in extreme detail, right down to the epic combination of sexy nose scar and cute little heart-shaped beard patches. I don’t know what more you want. It’s just Pedro being his usual gorgeous self, only extra sad and broody. I get that you’re scared about this, but can you please just give it a rest?”

It takes a couple of seconds for your brain to catch up with your mouth, but when it does…

Shit. You got a little carried away there. Please, God – or whatever deities rule over this galaxy far, far away – don’t let him notice how much you’re practically drooling over Pedro.

“You think he’s… gorgeous?” Din ventures hesitantly.

Fucksticks.

Backpedal! Reverse thrusters! Fall back to base camp!

“I mean….” You screw your eyes shut, searching for a way out of this latest living nightmare, but there’s no denying it now. “Yeah?”

A heavy silence descends. You can’t tell whether Din remains hung up on his potentially broken creed or if he’s moved on to wondering how your attraction to Pedro might translate to him if it turns out they do look alike. Become an apostate but gain an admirer… probably not a fair trade in his eyes.

Well, you wanted him to shut up. Mission accomplished. Except it looks like you now have the opposite problem.

If anything, you’ve made things worse.

Fuck, he still hasn’t said anything. Thor? Or is Odin the one in charge? Wait, wrong franchise. Maker? You’re pretty sure only droids pray to the Maker in Star Wars, but at this point, you’ll gladly supplicate a damn space toaster if it’ll end this awkward silence.

And then suddenly, an idea strikes. Whether it’s divine intervention or sheer desperation oiling your overtaxed, still-weirded-out brain into gear, you can’t be sure. What you do know is that you feel like a prize idiot for not thinking of it sooner.

“My phone!” you exclaim, rifling through your bag until you find your iPhone at the very bottom. You present it with a flourish. “The battery’s been dead for days, and it’s not like this galaxy has 5G, so I didn’t even think about it before.”

Din’s visor locks onto the black slab, and you self-consciously flick away some lint clinging to the curling edges of your screen protector. His helmet tilts inquisitively – still mute, still mysterious.

“It’s like a comlink, but it does a lot more, including capturing different types of images. There’s an image of Pedro as Din on here, but I have no charger with me. Not that there’s anywhere to plug in an iPhone charger in this universe. Y’all seriously need to install some USB-C ports.”

His visor tilts back down to the device, interest apparently piqued.

“If you can find a way to recharge the battery, I can show you what he looks like,” you explain, holding out the phone. “Then you’ll know if your creed is intact.”

He accepts the proffered device, turning it over in his gloved hands, and you point out the charger port at the base.

“Do whatever you need to – take it apart if you really have to – but just… don’t break it. I don’t have much left from home. There are photos of my friends and family on there too, so if you can get it powered up….”

Cradling the battered piece of your heart with a tenderness you know he typically reserves for Grogu, Din nods and rumbles, “Thank you. I’ll look after it.”

There we go. Tension diffused, problem solved. Or partially solved. Or… vaguely moving in the direction of being solved.

Whatever. At least now you can get back to fantasising about what’s under that helmet in peace.

[wolfertinger]

Tw rape, miscarriage, psych ward mention

I said I was never going to talk about him again because he's a vile person as we all know, but fuck it. No anon either, I don't care. Have no proof of this, don't care to dig it up, you had to have been there. But what's really never talked about that I think was extremely insulting and incredibly unforgivable that he did was when he faked a pregnancy for maybe a week. This all happened practically minutes after he posted about his lactation fetish. Just one day, all of the sudden, he posts that he's in the psych ward. He just so happens to have his phone the entire time.

I've been admitted to the psych ward once because I was threatening suicide. They take everything from you after strip searching you. You have to bend over and cough and everything. You can't even go in with your own clothes, and I remember not being allowed my own bra even.

Puppychan gets to keep his phone and stay glued to it? Sure, whatever, I believe that just as much as I believe the time he blacked out days after eating a blueberry.

So he lies about going to the psych ward. Then he claims he was raped in his room in the psych ward. You know, the one he was allowed to bring his own phone into.

He said he knew he was pregnant. How did he know he was pregnant? He said he was lactating that night when he went home. When I was in the psych ward, not only were the rooms were always open door (you can hardly even use a restroom without someone watching you to make sure you don't do anything to yourself), I was there for two days minimum.

He was there for less than half a day.

And he claims he was lactating the night after the assault at the psych ward. You can come to your own conclusions if you have ever taken a biology class.

And here comes the punchline. It's apparently not common knowledge that it takes two weeks for an egg to get fertilized. Because he claims that later that very week, he had a miscarriage.

A miscarriage.

What a slap in the face to someone who was raped numerous times with pregnancy scares. You can think what you want. Sure.

A miscarriage. Over a week before the egg gets fertilized. Yeah. Okay.

How hilarious. All of us who are victims of things like this are the joke. This is only HIS world that he writes the reality and the truths of. Nothing changes. Never will.

As always he never acknowledged this again, therefore no apology. Not that I think that he can even earnestly form the word "sorry."

i was one of puppys followers at that time. i do remember this. and it is what made me unfollow them all that time ago, along with many people, that i knew.

i have known, several survivors of under-age assault. one of which, later did need an abortion. another took her life. it was shocking and disgusting to me, that he would post that. then later continue posting horny furries, as if it never happened. the disonance was obvious.

for lack of a better term. this did trigger me. i have never in my life, not believed a victim of assault. but considering he only posted about this happening, when a callout was first posted about him. at first he tried to say he age regressed only, due to the fact he was trans and gay. then switched to trauma due to mis carriage, and he conveniently memory holed this story, once he forgot he even told it that is. i have a hard time giving him any credit. there are two things that happened, here.

"best" case. puppy was having an episode, and had a delusion, in which that happened, and their menstrual cycle, only affirmed the delusion. if this is genuinely the case. i would not demonize puppy but i would still be upset, that he posted allegations that serious, with no proof and with out even remembering he said so.

worst case. puppy lied. just like with lying about committing suicide via blueberry. or any suicide bait they did. or lying about their race, several times. or made secret accounts to harass themselves, only to quietly delete, when caught. or trying to make alternate accounts with different art styles, to trick people. i unfortunately, think this is the more likely case. though, if salem ever does admit to this. which he very well may once it is brought up here. he will either claim it is a delusion, and call me evil for reminding him. or he will claim it happened, and he got pregnant and miscarried, less than a week after conception.

without revealing too much. i and many people i know, have had close experience with psych wards, whether through themselfs or family. and it is exactly how you describe. yes. abuse does still occur at these facilities. but this is why, when someone is a serial liar. all they do is cause themselves, more pain. nothing you say can be beliefed.

relevant posts under cut. note that, he only told the story, once he was doubted.

puppy, did not even know if they had a miscarriage. highlighting, "potential", in their own post. yet still used this potential miscarriage, as a shield for someone calling them out. instead of simply saying they would try to do better. they just had to be the victim in the situation. what are you going to do. criticise a victim of rape and miscarriage? it highlights his long term behavior. perfectly.

[nitewrighter]

Witnessing all the suffering caused by the current administration, I’m ashamed to admit it’s affected me on a mental level in the stupidest way- i’m now ethically opposed to some of my favorite fictional heroes.

Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, sailor moon, Steven universe, avatar aang and many others- I’ll always love these characters, but i can no longer believe in their ideals.

Sparing even the worst people, believing everyone deserves a second chance seems noble- in fiction. But in reality, when giving horrible people more and more chances just leads to them doing even more horrific crimes, and real innocent people suffer for it, I can’t stand by that idea.

An alternate Superman killing an evil president was viewed as him going too far. After everything that’s happened, if i had godlike powers, burning him alive would be the first thing i did. I’d even mock him by saying “you’re fired!!”

I’d turn the jan 6 crowd into a tornado of blood and guts.

I’d punch his russian buddy’s heart out of his chest like in mortal combat.

And the muskrat? I’d just lift him a thousand feet in the air and let him drop.

It’s very sobering to realize if i had power I could never be Superman- i’d be the Spectre

I--okay, friend, you're kind of going full Chūnibyō on me right now. I kind of wish you like.. read this ask aloud to yourself before you sent me this and asked yourself, "Does this represent me well?" Because even on anon this is like... yikes. But also you are on anon, so I don't know your story, I don't know how old you are, when was the last time you ate, drank water, slept, showered, etc., so I'm not gonna pass judgment. This was clearly written from a place of frustration, and like, lord knows I've had my share of violent fantasies against an unjust world (mine usually involve me having a sword) so again, not passing judgment.

Superheroes were never meant to be praxis. They're fiction. They're fantasy. Superheroes are the fantasy of "What if power was used to do good" or they're studies in the different forms power can take. Power of hope, power of fear, power of creativity and willpower, etc. But the function of fiction is also escape--We live in a world where those who have power all too often use it to punch down, so we like stories where people who have power use that power to lift others up.

But I also think you're significantly overlooking that, amid the stakes inflation of comics, the most memorable aspects of good superheroes is the contrast of small deeds against the big displays of power. Yeah we saw Superman do the 'World of Cardboard' speech and then punch Darkseid so hard it created a really cool shockwave that went 'fwoooom' and then sent Darkseid flying. But the Superman content I see on my dash over and over and over again is that one bit from All-Star Superman where Superman is comforting that suicidal teen and letting her know she's not alone. We remember that more than the big punches! Because that's something we can do! No, we can't all punch out Darkseid with a super-cool shockwave, but we can reach out to those among us who are deeply in pain and need someone to talk to.

"I can no longer believe in their ideals"

Bro, having to reconcile ideals with unfortunate realities is literally the whole point of existing in the real world. That's why fiction is fiction and reality is hell-fuck but maybe somewhere in that mess I can make someone's day a little better because Naruto taught me that the most powerful jutsu is Talk-no-jutsu. I can't save the world, but I can do the dishes. I can stop my walk and take out my airpods for a few seconds and let that small child pet my dog and smile and tell my neighbors to have a great day. The world is on fire and it is so exhausting but being able to put a little good out into the world, even in the smallest ways, is not a waste. It reassures me of the goodness and dignity shared by all humanity.

Yeah, we have horrible horrible shitty people in power, so we have to ask, "What is the most immediate thing I can do to make things better for those around me?" And maybe the most immediate thing you can do to make things better is to make things better for you--Maybe you gotta take a shower or floss your teeth and spit blood in your sink, or clean your room, or finally do that load of laundry, or get back to that school assignment which I know doesn't feel like it matters with the world on fire, but I promise you is something that can enrich you, even if it's just the satisfaction of getting your teacher's dumb busywork out of the way.

Lowkey this whole ask kind of reminds me of this one comic where Spectre!Hal Jordan shows up to the Justice League and starts ragging on all of them (for very similar reasons to yours! Where is the justice???) and at first they're all genuinely hurt and defensive but then after like 5 minutes they're like "Wait, Hal, you're like, super-fucking traumatized from basically destroying everything that made you a hero back during your Parallax Phase and then dying heroically during The Final Night event. And now you're kind of wrapped up in this Spectre thing, I think, because you're still very guilty about your whole Parallax Phase. It's easier to be Spectre and shower the world (and your friends) in WRATH rather than like...deal with how much humanity is still in you. Like literally what are you trying to accomplish here?" And then Spectre!Hal is kind of like, "Wait... shit."

This ended up very long. I guess my point is, you are 100% welcome to all of your super-powered murder fantasies--but a question I always try to ask myself when I'm in a space similar to the vibes I'm getting from your ask is "Am I letting the fire burn itself out, or am I giving it more oxygen?" And my other piece of advice in the face of all this bullshit is basically, "What can you do right now to make things better for yourself?" Maybe calling a friend and checking in, and catching up (maybe asking for help?) will do a whole lot more good for both of you, than creating a tornado of blood and guts.

[atlasscrumpit]

Professor Lecter x Reader

Ever since he had started teaching as a psychology professor, he had spotted you immediately as if there were a large spotlight on you.

Every class he had he would glance at you, noticing how quiet you often were.

One day you waited for everyone to leave before you began to leave, a habit he had noticed.

"It's Y/N. Right?" He asked as you turned around and smiled.

"Yes, yeah that's me." You said, he noticed a small blush on your face.

"I must say you turn in some very impressive work. The way you view things is very unique." He said as you smiled again at the compliment.

"Oh, thank you. I actually get that quite a bit. I hope it's a good thing." You replied, he liked to watch the way you avoided eye contact.

"It's a wonderful thing, people often don't think outside the square like you do. Your view on the world makes it seem like there's hope in everything, even darkness." He admitted, slowly stepping closer.

"This world isn't easy, being a human isn't easy. We have to find ways to deal with the ever crushing certainty of death. Maybe I'm too much of a dreamer but...what's the alternative? Just wallow in self pity and fear?" You replied with a small chuckle as he watched you speak with admiration in his eyes.

"You are far beyond your years, Y/N." He said, tilting his head slightly as he studied you.

"A curse really..." You muttered, solemnly.

"Perhaps, but do you really wish to be oblivious lile the rest of your class. Just drinking and experimenting as they like to say." He said making you chuckle a little.

"I suppose not. Knowledge can be a blessing and a curse." You said, finally meeting his gaze.

You both held the look for a few minutes before you inevitably looked away again.

"Anyway, I should probably get going. It was nice talking to you, I'm really really looking forward to more of your classes." You complimented making him smile.

"And I look forward to teaching you, Y/N."

--

You started to notice how much Dr. Lecter would look at you while he teaches, you didn't know if he was interest by you or interested in you.

But, you start talking after nearly every class.

This university used to be safe and happy but...it began to change.

You started to feel unsafe in your own dorm.

One night you were on your way home from the one party you've ever attended, and of course it all went to shit.

You sat on the edge of the stairs up to your dorm and sighed.

"Everything alright?" You heard a voice say, startling you back to reality.

"Oh god... Sorry you scared me." You muttered, seeing Dr. Lecter above you.

He wasn't used to seeing you so dishevelled and messy.

"What happened?" He asked, tilting his head and studying your body language.

"Well, I tried to go to a party for the first time... Just to try it. Some guy tried to have sex with me even though I said no. I ended up beating him up and getting kicked out." You grumbled as his brows furrowed a little.

"I'm glad you were able to defend yourself. Who was the boy?" He asked making you sigh.

"I think his name is Ben, Ben Sail or something." You said as he nodded, he knew exactly who you were talking about.

"You should head back to your dorm and get some rest." He said, helping you stand up.

You nodded and rubbed your eyes.

"Yeah... You're right. Night, Dr. Lecter." You said with a yawn before heading inside, Hannibal watched you leave and made sure you were safe before going on his way.

--

A week later you rushed into Hannibal's class room early in the morning.

"It was you, wasn't it!" You screamed as he looked at you and sighed.

He knew how smart you were and also knew you would figure it out.

"I was due for another meal, he happened to be the perfect target." He said as you stared at him in fear.

"You ate him!?" You screamed before he lunged forward and clamped his hand over your mouth.

His other hand went to your hip, gripping it to pull you closer to him.

"Shh, keep your voice down. I know you are not shocked, so don't act like you are. You have known since the moment you spoke to me. Your mother was a killer, you can spot them from a mile away. So, don't try to act like the sweet girl everyone thinks you are." He growled before taking his hand off your mouth.

"You think I'm pissed that prick is dead? I'm pissed you stole my fucking kill." You said as he smirked.

"So, there she is. The real Y/N." He said with a smirk as you leant against his desk.

"Should've known you would figure me out... I hope you won't be blowing my cover." You said as he moved closer, he had known for a quite a while you were a killer, all the same as him.

"Your secret is safe with me, I swear. I am also sorry for stealing your prey. Perhaps I could make it up to you at dinner." He said as you smirked and looked at him.

"As long as it's not human, I'm a killer but I don't eat my prey like you." You said making him chuckle softly.

"I promise no human meat." He said with a charming smile.

"It's a date."

[h1biscusgal]

Hii i want to ask what are your thoughts on manifesting time travel through void state … i want to go back to 2023 n relive from that year will i totally change my reality ? What will happen to my family because i want them all with me also friends I’m scared what if i do it and then i feel guilty about it how to change this situation to my preference … i entered void many times but scared to manifest because of my negative thoughts what if something happen to my family n friends what if in alternative reality they r suffering and in front of me they are happy but different people i want to manifest better life for my family n friends i don’t want to just manifest better things for me and move on

OKAY SO

First of all.

YOU'VE ENTERED THE VOID A LOT? DAYUM GIRL CONGRATULATIONS 🤭

anyways, so, firstly, anything you manifest in the void is ALWAYS in your favor, like literally, you can definitely go back in time and change events, nothing will go wrong! Why? Because it's still you in your reality, it's the same as manifesting an apple in the kitchen.

Manifesting is something gentle for you to understand, it's nothing bad nor is it something that will "ruin" you, not at all, your friends and family will not be "left" behind, they're still with you being the same person in the new timeline you went.

You don't "leave" anything behind, you're just changing the timeline, it'll just feel like flicking the calendar to 2023, yk? Nothing bad nor anything will change, your fears are simply from the unknown, and I can assure you, nothing, NOTHING will happen, it's a calm place where everything is already possible.

And hell yeah I understand you, but listen, no "alternative" reality is there for you to THINK they are in worse conditions, why?

Because your reality here already says your family and friends are happy, understand that your negative thoughts can never manifest, because intrusive thoughts don't manifest unless you're WILLING for it to manifest and accept it as it being manifested.

Good luck!

[juuuulez]

📰 | part twelve: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour!Reader, no pronouns used for reader, slow burn, teenagers in love, cute Judith moments, dialogue heavy chapter, kinda just pure fluff, reader is an artist.

summary: You, Carl and Judith share a picnic away from all the troubles of war. Alternatively: the calm before the storm.

okay this was so so so so so cute!!! a very dialogue heavy chapter, but juicy so hopefully you all enjoy!!

next chapter will be…a LOT (pretty angsty) because guys it is our LAST CHAPTER!!! then there will be an epilogue to package everything up nicely

don’t worry, there will be waaayyy more xSaviour!Reader one shots to come because it’s my favourite trope, and i can work through tones of cute requests to keep us all with our required dose of carl grimes ;P

-> masterlist <-

You watched as Judith scribbled with her crayons, drawing nonsensical shapes and patterns onto her page. She seemed at peace with your presence, which made you a little bitter, knowing nobody else from Alexandria could ever see you in this light. After catching your staring, a chubby hand reached out, offering you a crayon.

“What’re we drawing?” You asked, leaning down to hover next to Judith. She didn’t answer, giving you that shy little smile, but nonetheless pushed a piece of paper towards you.

“It’s easier to find crayons than pens now,” Carl remarks, seated next to you on the blanket, “Do you guys have pens? At the Sanctuary, I mean.”

“Yeah. We’ve got pens.” You entertain the small talk, drawing a tree onto the page in waxy blue crayon. It starts out as a vague shape, though you slowly give it more and more detail, hatching in shading and even patches of grass at its base.

The silence resumes, though you’re content with that. Carl is, too. He’s just happy to have your attention, in a scenario without Alexandria or the Saviours or a war.

Despite this, you find yourself talking again, unable to keep these thoughts bottled up. Sometime, when you’re nervous, you run your mouth. Maybe Carl is making you nervous.

“Judith is lucky to have you.” You tell him, still colouring on the page. The admission catches Carl’s attention, and though he isn’t shocked with its contents, he’s a little surprised by the blatant display of.. vulnerability? He isn’t used to you being so personal.

“I know,” He agrees, “My dad says that family is the most important thing nowadays. He’s right.”

The idea leaves you thinking for a moment, and Carl can practically see the gears turning in your head. He liked digging deeper, seeing what made you tick, what was going on underneath those walls.

“Yeah,” You end up nodding, “I think I agree.”

“Y’know, that’s why we won’t punish you. When this war ends.”

It garners your attention, finally looking up from the paper. Carl is sitting next to you, whilst you’re lying on the blanket with Judith. He looks serious, but maybe a little solemn, not intending to steer the conversation down this dark path, yet viewing it necessary to discuss. He wants to be on the same page.

“My dad won’t kill Negan,” Carl continues, sounding quite sure of himself. “He thinks he will, but he won’t. I’ll convince him. I know I can.”

You look back down at the page, but don’t continue colouring. It’s a weird idea, that Rick would spare Negan. You couldn’t see how that would happen. But knowing Carl wanted to advocate for peace was nice. Comforting.

“Negan’s gonna kill Rick.” You eventually tell him, though it doesn’t hold the same certainty. It’s a bitter reality, loosing faith in your own people, yet with each day, this war is seeming more difficult to win.

Yet you know one thing. If given the chance, Negan would kill Rick. You knew he would. Carl knew it, too.

“That’s why you guys can’t win.” He tells you, not sounding too proud of the fact. Months ago, and he would’ve happily rubbed this in your face. But now, it made him feel a little nauseous.

You let the silence sit for a moment, and Carl worries he’s upset you. He hasn’t, but the whole situation is upsetting. Not that it’s his fault, which you keep reminding yourself.

So, you speak quietly, trying to be nice. “Can we not talk about this?” You suggest, throwing another glance up at Carl.

He takes pity on you, understanding that this was supposed to be a break from everything, though he feels a little better knowing the idea doesn’t make you outright hostile.

Carl lies down on the blanket, next to you, on his back whilst you lay on your stomach. He tilts his head towards you and Judith, brown hair pooling on the blanket and falling over his shoulders, bangs sweeping over his eyepatch.

You get an idea, shifting a little, focusing a tad harder on the drawing. One arm holds the crayon, and your other creates a barrier between Carl and the paper. Though, he doesn’t seem very focused, instead watching you.

“Does your head hurt?” He asks, eyes unconsciously drawn to the bandage wrapped around your head. It was almost silly, the way you matched, but Carl struggled to find any joy in that fact.

“Kinda. Just a headache,” You tell him, still drawing. At one point, Judith reaches out, trading you a yellow crayon in exchange for the blue one. “Did you find the bastard who shot me?”

Carl scoffs, a smile spreading onto his face. “Yeah. Someone from the Kingdom. Nobody you’ve gotta worry about, though.”

You roll your eyes, unbeknownst to how Carl inspects every inch of your face. “Who names their community the ‘Kingdom’? Pretentious assholes.”

“Like the ‘Sanctuary’ is any better.” He points out, which forces a smile onto your face, knowing that he has a point. It is a little silly.

Judith reaches out again, handing you a red crayon. You take it, giving her the yellow one you’d been working with, to which she happily continues scribbling on her side of the paper.

“Do you ever wish that things were normal?” Carl asks, once again prompting conversation. “Like.. would we have been friends, otherwise?”

“We aren’t even friends now,” You point out, sparing him a glance and smiling at his curious expression. So cute. “But no.. I don’t mind things how they are. I didn’t like my normal very much.”

This causes Carl to think, pondering on that statement. A light breeze brushes past, tussling his hair slightly, though he remains focused on you, looking so peaceful while you draw.

“Your normal… with Negan?” He begins, hoping that you would get the hint and fill him in. All this time, and yet he knows nothing about you.

You take the hint, giving a small shrug. “No. With my father.”

Carl tries to read your expression, to gauge how deep this wound is, but he struggles. “You didn’t get along very well?” He asks, voice soft and free of judgment.

It isn’t difficult to read your behaviour these past months. You’re snappy, easily agitated, and weirdly flighty yet strong and resilient at the same time. In many ways, your attachment to Negan is unnatural, though Carl presumed there to be a driving factor behind it all.

“No,” You confirm, “He was a heartless bastard.”

Carl nods, still lying on his back. The silence doesn’t last for long, as he still has more questions. “Did you have any other family?”

His curiosity didn’t piss you off, like it usually would. Maybe it’s because your guard was down, or maybe you felt you owed it to Carl, to open up with him a little.

“I had a sister. Younger,” You begin, speaking whilst you draw, “But she died at eight weeks old. My mother died with her, in childbirth. She was nice.”

There are a few beats where nobody talks. Even Judith has stopped playfully mumbling, though she pays no mind to your conversation. Your gaze flickers up to Carl, finding that he’s still watching you, seeming to be in thought. It’s like he sees something more: something beneath your surface, something you can’t even touch.

Or maybe he just relates. It’s surprising how much Carl understands you, to the point where he’s a little unsettled by it.

“Don’t ask depressing questions if you don’t want the answer.” You finally chime, trying to clear the air of this strange tension.

“No, it’s not that. I get it.” Carl concludes, his voice remaining in that soft tone, one that makes the hairs on your neck stand up. He doesn’t want you to feel bad.

You nod, reassuring him. “I know you do.”

Having such a personal conversation is strangely liberating. It makes you feel good, better than you usually do, better than anybody has had the ability to make you feel. For once, there’s a sense of peace, as you know Carl understands you.

The silence returns, but it’s pleasant this time. Trees in the distance rustle slightly in the wind, an atmosphere void of groaning corpses or yelling and fighting. You’ve never experienced that.

After a few more etches with the crayon, the drawing is complete. You spin around the piece of paper, sliding it to Carl with a smile. “For you.”

Carl sits up on his elbows, taking the paper to inspect it. It’s a sketchy crayon drawing of… well, him. Lying there, on the blanket. It’s surprisingly realistic, shapes accurately blocked out in a combination of yellow, blue, and red crayon. The very edge of his hat had been coloured in, messy pink scribbled roughly inside the lines by Judith

“When did you do this?” He asks, not having noticed you creating this masterpiece throughout the duration of the conversation.

You stifle a laugh. “Just then. I was gonna let Judith keep colouring it in.”

Carl nods, still fixated on the drawing. Nobody has ever drawn him before. “Can I.. keep this one?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll make Judith something else to colour.” You agree, already pulling out another piece of paper to sketch something a little simpler. Though you viewed that drawing of Carl a breeze, he was amazed by how you’d managed it in such a short amount of time.

“I didn’t know you could draw.” He says, finally taking his eyes off the paper, to inspect your newest creation. This time he’s set on paying attention, wanting to watch how it comes together.

That, and he thinks it’s very sweet that you were drawing with the intention of letting Judith colour. A lot of artists would probably be protective of their work, but yours served the sole purpose of making others happy.

You decide to draw the tree line, using an unnatural colour like orange to outline the landscape, in hopes that Judith would colour it green. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” You tell him, a strangely cagey answer, but Carl isn’t put off.

“I do want to know you.” He urges, and the conviction in his tone causes you to glance up at him, before back down at the page.

“You will. Maybe when this is all over.” You land on responding, an answer Carl can’t be unhappy with, as it fills him with the semblance of hope that you’re willing to open up to him. That you see a future where you get along.

He sets the artwork down, laying back on the blanket. “So… you agree? That all this will end?” He tests the waters with another question about the war.

“Don’t push your luck.” You immediately shut him down, a playful grin on your face.

Carl doesn’t mind, not when he’s already picked your brain so far. To him, you’re like a stray cat, any further and you’d start hissing and run away. He’d like to maintain this peace for a little longer.

So, Carl laid there whilst you drew an illustration for Judith. Eventually, the toddler gleamed with joy when you handed it over, eagerly scribbling in the lines with her colours. It was messy and unorganised, but brought you happiness to see that she was so immersed.

The two of you soaked in the sunshine, enjoying the quiet surrounding the clearing and absence of responsibility. Carl had somehow managed to coax you closer, to lay next to him, his hand guiding your head to his shoulder. It felt good, and you weren’t used to letting yourself feel good.

He ran his hand through your hair, careful not to disrupt the bandaged wound, finding it surprisingly soft. In a way, a lot of you was soft, and sweet. It was just buried underneath this rubble of anger and aggression, but Carl knew he could wiggle it out.

When this whole war ended, he hoped you’d be happier.

Regardless, the picnic was a nice getaway, though you tried not to seem too bothered when the sun had begun to set, and you knew you’d return to the Hilltop. It wasn’t your home. It was just some place where they held you captive.

“You’ll actually come and visit me, right?” You end up asking Carl as the pair of you pack up, you holding Judith while Carl stuffs the blanket into his bag.

He nods, “I will. I’ll come by your room every day until Negan takes this deal. Promise.”

That satisfies you, for now. At least you’d have some company, though the idea of being a hostage any longer was slightly sickening. For now, you’d put it out of your mind.

Carl leads you back up the hill out of the clearing, finding the car that he’d hidden away. You throw the bag onto the car’s floor, and buckle Judith into the back seat while he gets it started.

However, the bags zip wasn’t done up, fabric splaying open slightly to reveal that Carl had accidentally left the gun inside. It’s shameful that your first thought is to steal it: make an escape right now, leave for the Sanctuary and screw up this entire plan.

You lean down, palming the metal object. It would be a pretty large hike up there, but worthwhile if it gave the Saviours any power. Carl wouldn’t be able to stop you, as long as you had his gun.

Biting your lip, you pocketed it for the time being, coming to sit in the passenger side.

“When we get back, I’ll go ask Michonne how the deal is going. She’ll probably end up telling me,” Carl suggests, “You’ll feel a little better knowing what’s going on.”

The suggestion catches you off guard, watching Carl with a slightly surprised expression as it sinks in. That he’s willing to give you information simply to provide peace of mind. It’s a stupid idea, really, betraying the trust of Michonne and Rick and everyone else… but it’s sweet.

“You left this in the back.” You end up telling Carl, offering him the handgun. The words spill out before you can hold them back.

His brows furrow in concern, and mild irritation at his own forgetfulness, accepting the gun and hooking it back into his belt. “Shit. Thanks, wouldn’t want Judith grabbing it.”

The engine starts in a low rumble, filling the silence as you begin to drive back. Guilt wells in your stomach for even thinking about turning on Carl, and for the better part of the drive, you settle for watching the boy as opposed to the scenery.

“You alright?” He eventually asks, sparing you a glance before looking back to the empty expanse of road.

“Mhm,” You hum, “Just… grateful that you did all this..”

The admission causes Carl to grin, feeling an unfamiliar swell of pride, your thankful attitude boosting his ego. Even without words, the look he gives you makes you scoff, rolling your eyes and looking out the window.

A smile still grows on your face, knowing that he’s earned this victory. You reach out towards the dash, taking Carl’s hand and just holding it while he drives, allowing him to revel in his prize for a little longer.

taglist: @ilov3carlgr1mes @eminemxxeminem @strxwbxrrymarx @ilaaishi @iamaslytherin0 @grimeslvrr @anotherbook-obsessedhoe @kmsatm @ilovespiderpeople @hearts4mitski4 @jkvolgs @mysouleaten

[serenastark-official]

🧙‍♂️✨ 05: The Do’s and Don’ts of Being Friends with Stephen Strange: A Survival Guide by Serena Stark ✨🧙‍♂️ Pt. 1

Alright, I’m here to help all of you navigate the wild experience that is being friends with Stephen Cedric Vincent Strange, the guy who can open portals to alternate dimensions but still can’t pronounce "penguin" correctly. (Looking at you, Doc. 👀)

✅DO’s

Do accept that he’s basically a walking thesaurus.

When Stephen opens his mouth, prepare to hear words that make you feel dumb. Words like “epistemology,” “prestidigitation,” and “probabilistic thaumaturgy.” If you don’t know what half of those mean, don’t worry. Just nod and smile, and occasionally drop “That’s fascinating, Doc” like you're actually listening.

Do accept that he will judge your life choices.

You know how some people are passive-aggressive? Well, Stephen is aggressively passive. He’ll “casually” mention that you could probably fix your whole life with a little “focus” and “discipline” while giving you a judgmental side-eye. Thanks, Doc, I’m already working on it. Maybe don’t tell him about your Netflix binge—he’ll probably lecture you on “wasting time” or something equally annoying.

Do appreciate His Style.

Stephen's wardrobe is 90% cloaks, and honestly, he pulls it off. The man can be the most powerful sorcerer in the multiverse and still manage to look like he’s one step away from a Hogwarts graduation ceremony. Compliment his cloak. Always. It’s the only thing keeping his ego from imploding, and let’s face it, that thing is his most prized possession.

Do enjoy his random facts about everything.

No, seriously. Stephen Strange is basically a walking encyclopedia, but way more intense. He’ll casually mention facts about the history of magical realms, obscure creatures, or the properties of enchanted mushrooms, and you’ll wonder, “How does he know so much about mushrooms?!” But hey, it's better than the usual small talk, right? Just nod and say, "That's interesting, Doc," even if you’re still wondering about the mushroom thing.

Do pretend you understand magic (for his ego’s sake).

When Strange starts talking about spells or mystical rituals, just toss in a “Yeah, totally. That makes sense.” Maybe even throw in a “I think I can feel the magic now,” and watch him glow with pride. Deep down, we both know you have no idea what the hell he’s talking about, but this is the best form of flattery. No one tell him I still use Google to figure out half of what he says.

Do accept that you will never, ever win an argument.

Stephen is the king of "I told you so" moments. He’s been alive for centuries (or at least it feels that way), so he will outwit you, out-reason you, and out-snark you into oblivion. Don’t even bother trying to argue your point. Your best bet is just to nod and say, “Yeah, sure, Doc, you were right,” even if you know you weren’t wrong. It’s easier this way.

Do be ready to call him out when he’s wrong.

Even a Sorcerer has to take accountability. You might not have magical powers, but you’ve got that Stark wit and some serious confidence, so when he pulls a "Stephen Strange" moment—like when he tries to explain why he is always right—don’t hesitate to put him in his place. You’ll gain mad respect.

Do prepare for spontaneous philosophical debates about existence.

Somehow, Stephen will always find a way to turn your casual conversation into a deep dive about the nature of reality, the universe, and how everything is interconnected—even the way your coffee tastes. Just roll with it. You didn’t plan on spending the next 45 minutes contemplating the meaning of life while looking at a cup of coffee, but here we are.

Do embrace the unexpected trips to the Sanctum Sanctorum.

Being friends with Stephen means you might end up in the Sanctum Sanctorum at odd hours. And not just the “let’s grab some coffee and chat” kind of visit—oh no, sometimes you’ll be swept into dimension-bending, reality-altering escapades with absolutely zero notice.

Do learn the art of nodding and pretending you understand the mystic mumbo-jumbo.

Let’s face it, half the time you’re going to be completely out of your depth when Stephen talks about magic, alternate dimensions, or cosmic phenomena. But don’t panic—just nod, repeat a key word you might have understood, and when in doubt, throw in an “I knew that!” Stephen will never know that you have no idea what’s going on. After all, he’s a wizard, not a mind reader. Probably.

Do accept that he's secretly proud of you (sometimes).

Deep down, Stephen is actually quite proud of you when you manage to hold your own in a conversation about magical chaos or dimensional anomalies. It’s rare to get an actual compliment, but when you do, it’s like a momentous occasion. Think of it as winning a gold medal in a very niche event. But if he ever says, “You did well,” it’s like the highest form of praise he’ll give you, and you’ll feel like you’ve just achieved enlightenment.

Do remind him to eat... occasionally.

As busy as he is, Stephen somehow forgets to eat. So, when you're hanging out, throw a snack his way and remind him that the human body still needs food—no matter how much magic he’s conjuring. If you’re lucky, he’ll mutter something about “taking care of himself,” but hey, at least he ate.

DON'Ts

[starvcives]

and top 5 dick & bruce moments <3

vechh you know me and you know how much i LOVE this question!! i'd take literally any excuse to talk about them.. there's just soo much to choose from so i was dying while doing thiss. the one's id choose are pretty generic but i love them all the same::

that moment from obsidian age when faith tells dick about what bruce said to her. dick being so surprised that she assumed bruce was his father and even more surpised at what made her think that way? u are both freaks. the fact that bruce can so casually say this to anyone else but never actually say it to dick's face.. they r CURSED. also dick's expressions!! genuinely jla obsidian age is such a foundational nightwing comic.

"The only time I ever feel pride is when I look at Nightwing. Sometimes I think he's the only thing I ever did right."

their wholee argument during prodigal. love it when they ream each other out, or more likely, dick reams bruce out while bruce stands there because everything he does has a reason dick, and he has a good explanation!! but also because they are soo unwell. bruce thinking dick would never wanna be batman because he has already built nightwing for himself-- which is so much better! bruce truly believes that nightwing is an essential part of the hero community. he believes in dick's ability to lead and inspire. he also believes he doesn't have any right to be a subject of that ability. he doesn't think he deserves dick's loyalty and he outright says this in gotham knights. dick has already done so much for him, how could bruce call him back, especially for this.

robin 13 u will forever be known for this..

"I didn't have the right to call you back."

"The right? I'd die for you bruce."

obviously, just copy pasting the entire comic of bloodborne here. bruce leaving flowers at the graysons' grave every year.. alfred saying he's never missed the occasion so it's obvious something's gone wrong. the flashback... "i dodged the bullet, robin. i always do. okay?" dick setting off alone to find bruce in the middle of the cold harsh weather with nothing but a heartbeat monitor.. SCREAM.

another over used one but also one that altered my brain chemistry. that one panel from infinite crisis. I KNOW IT'S EVERYWHERE-- but that's because it is one of the most insane and fundamental changes that re-routed comic history! alternate superman telling bruce that everyone on this earth is a worse version of everyone on earth-2. telling batman that they should be overwritten, it's only for the best after all. AND WHAT DOES BRUCE SAY??

"And what about Dick Grayson?"

"Yes?"

"Is he a better man on your Earth than he is on mine?"

yeah. bruce's faith in dick transcends alternate realities. the world could be on fire and the incorruptable could become corrupted but bruce wayne can not doubt dick grayson. bruce just casually judges the potential of an entire world by the standards of dick grayson. if the dick grayson on this earth is still a good person then it is still worth saving.

last but not least, a bit of a controversial one, but that scene in forever evil where dick is strapped to the bomb and it's about to go off and he tells bruce to leave him just like bruce has told him many times before. BUT BRUCE CAN'T. he says that the only way they are getting out of this is together as if there aren't like 3 other people in that room with them lmaoo- if dick grayson dies then bruce might as well die too because there is no reality in which he can live without him. his son, his brother, his best friend, his saving grace, his boy OUGH. and then we get the whole spyral fight scene yada yada and it's like a knife cut clean through your heart. one of the first dick & bruce scenes I read and one that will always hold a lot of weight in how I view them.

please bear with me i cant find the panels rn

bonus:: sooo much good robin dick and bruce content coming out omgg -> batman and robin: year one, world's finest

and then there's year one: batman/scarecrow, batman and robin 2021 and i can not reiterate this enough BLOODBORNE!!!

there r also so many single issues of comics i can name but that's a whole list for another time

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for Brumes behind the cut; "interdimensional whoring for Timkon". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Tim’s other self bares his teeth; bites the back of his glove and digs his fingers into Kon’s shoulder again. Kon digs his fingers into his ass again and lifts him just enough to take him off his feet and really put all the other’s weight all behind his hips. Tim’s other self curses. He tries to brace himself with the hand on Kon’s shoulder, and Kon grinds his chest up against his cock, and also keeps working his mouth and throat just as determinedly around Tim’s cock. Doesn’t half-ass his attempts at learning how to suck him off or even slow down or do a single thing that’d make it any easier for him to get Tim to outlast his other self. 

Noticing that makes it very hard for Tim to outlast his other self. 

Though of course Kon would do that, because when did Kon ever half-ass anything he’s asked him to do since they got over their initial friction? 

“Jesus Christ,” Tim’s other self gasps, and Tim shoves his cock fully down Kon’s throat again, and Kon purrs around it. “Jesus Christ!” 

The purring vibrates through Kon’s chest the same way it does his throat, Tim knows very intimately. 

“Aw, there’s our cute little boytoy,” he hums lowly as he tightens his fingers under Kon’s jaw, and doesn’t even sound like he’s gotten hit in the gut with an I-beam. 

Two-by-four at worst. 

“You really need to shut the fuck up,” his other self grits out, and sounds like he's gotten hit in the gut with an H-beam. 

“When do we ever?” Tim asks him wryly, curling his fingers under Kon's jaw. “It's sweet of you to let us come on your tits, baby. Especially when you're all dressed up.” 

“Ngh,” Tim's other self chokes, so maybe he was a little too distracted to register what the obvious result of coming on Kon's chest while he's suited up would be until just now. “You–you're such a–” 

“Yeah, most people think we are,” Tim replies, still wry, and rubs his fingers down the length of Kon's throat. Kon swallows much more roughly underneath them. 

So cute. 

So yeah, he should definitely be a little merciless with himself, he thinks. Just give Kon a little bit of support, that’s all, because Kon has very obviously earned it. 

Well, when doesn’t he, really? 

“I’m going to fucking kick you through that portal in the morning,” his other self snaps breathlessly, his voice rough and half-shredded and face all flushed and just barely sweating. Honestly, Tim was probably even more flustered the first time he fucked Kon, but in his case his Kon had been the one who’d been coming onto him and there hadn’t been an alternate reality spotter who already knew everything they were both into, so really, he thinks his other self should be a little more grateful right now? At least for politeness’s sake, if nothing else. 

“Well, that’ll be in the morning,” Tim replies mildly, curling his fingers in lightly just under Kon’s jaw, and his other self glares at him, and Kon swallows tighter around his cock and grinds his chest up even more eagerly against his other self’s as he kneads the other’s ass in his hands. Tim’s other self curses sharply and grabs the underside of Kon’s jaw too, digging his splayed fingers into the bone where there’s so little give as to be basically nonexistent and in against Kon’s lower lip, which is nothing but give. 

Tim’s other self curses again, and Kon slides his tongue out past Tim’s cock just enough to lick the tips of his dug-in fingers. 

Tim’s other self curses. 

“You never half-ass anything, do you, sweetheart,” Tim says fondly. “You want our come on your shield that bad? Would that make you happy? Make you really feel ‘Super’ for a while?” 

Kon lets out a moan of a purr that rumbles like a damn engine, his whole throat and whole ribcage vibrating with it. Tim only doesn’t immediately come because he knew to expect the reaction and was already braced for both the sensation and the intensity of it. Or, more specifically, because he’s used to it. 

His other self, obviously, is not. 

“Fuck!” Tim’s other self gasps as his whole body seizes up, his cock spilling wet, messy stripes across Kon’s big broad engine of a chest and S, and Kon makes that one brainless, blissed-out sound that Tim will never get sick of hearing and croons adoringly around his cock, and also drools all over it. 

Tim sighs in soft, affectionate approval and buries his cock all the way back down his throat. 

“Good boy,” he murmurs, because that’ll make Kon purr again, and the moment the other does, Tim comes himself without even having to try. Kon keeps purring for him through his whole orgasm, because he’s just the sweetest like that. 

Coming in Kon’s mouth really is one of his favorite things, Tim reflects contentedly as he catches his breath in careful, measured inhalations and finally pulls back from the other. Kon whines in disappointment the moment he's not gagging on a dick anymore, and Tim’s other self makes a strangled noise about it and manages half a step back, but nothing else. Tim’s frankly impressed he even managed that, because he knows exactly how hard it is to even shift back from Kon when he’s like this. 

Though in this case, it does give them both a very nice view of his chest. The El crest is stretched as tight as it can go across Kon’s pecs, especially with his body bent backwards like this, and looks as good as it always does with a fresh comeshot smeared across it. 

Tim smiles down at Kon as he strips off his condom to toss out and tucks his cock away again, then trails his fingers along the drooling mess of the other’s well-fucked mouth. Kon gasps for air he doesn’t really need, his chest still rising and falling in erratic little stutters, and drunkenly leans back into the contact without even trying to talk, his spine bending back just a little farther and messed-up mouth reflexively opening farther itself under the light little brush of Tim’s trailing fingers. His eyes are half-open and completely glazed over, and he looks dazed and out of it and more fucked-up than any baseline human should ever be able to get anyone with even the slightest bit of Kryptonian DNA in them. 

Same as always, really. 

Tim’s smile widens. Kon just gets so sweet for a good dicking, every time. 

Then he lifts his head and smiles at his other self instead, pleasant and merciless, and mentions: “If you wanted to be the one to give him his kiss, I personally always think he's the sweetest about it after he's just had his mouth fucked.” 

His other self makes a choked sound. Kon lets out a whimper, tiny and breathless, and his head does the exact same reflexive please kiss me tilt that Tim’s own Kon’s always does, even with his spine bent backwards and his head hanging back on his neck like this. 

His other self makes another choked sound, but it’s not even fully out of his throat before he’s grabbing Kon’s face to yank up and lunging down towards him in turn. 

And then Tim’s other self actually does something that surprises him a little, because then the other–stops, just for a second, and stares down at Kon’s glazed eyes and flushed face and dazed and overwhelmed expression and the spit-soaked mess of his mouth, and then just–cups his face instead of gripping it–cups it very gently, in fact–and kisses him very, very softly. 

And even more surprisingly, Kon actually lets him. 

Huh, Tim thinks, just barely tilting his head. That’s different. 

Well . . . it is still an alternate reality, really. 

His other self kisses Kon long and slow and soft and lingering, very clearly taking the time to both savor it and to make sure Kon gets to savor it, and Kon kisses back all clumsy and messy and just a little bit out of sync, like he’s not really processing what the other’s mouth is doing ‘til a few moments after he does it. Tim’s felt Kon kiss like that before, but only seen it as an outsider observer a handful of times. 

It took a lot more and a lot longer to get him here those times, though, even the times with Bart or Cassie or even both of them involved. So–it’s different, yeah. 

Definitely not a difference that Tim’s complaining about, though it’s kind of a funny one to get from the repressed reality, all things considered. 

He pets Kon’s hair, for a little while. It makes Kon purr again, though this time the sound of it comes out stilted and breathy, and cracks around the scattered little whimpers that the kissing’s drawing out of him. Tim can feel Kon shuddering; can feel his TTK field shuddering, even, which is a very difficult sensation to describe but always an interesting one. 

He can feel Kon trembling, too.

[quietbluejay]

Anyone remember the Space Wolf commissars (ok I call them that because that's what they are, really, they're those guys that Russ sent to watch the primarchs and kill if it turned out they were traitors)

well I was looking up on Lexicanum exactly who they got sent to and it was apparently ALL THE PRIMARCHS, and it was a Russ and Malcador combo brainchild, which, lmao, of course it was.

Due to the Heresy happening most of them never actually met up with the legions they were sent to, but can you imagine, if the Heresy hadn't happened. Genuinely sounds like they were deliberately trying to start a civil war because I'm pretty sure the list of primarchs who wouldn't kill them shortly after they arrived is shorter than the list that would (ESPECIALLY some of the loyalists. Like can you see Lion or Ferrus taking that well?)

Perturabo-specific thoughts below the cut because I thought of a way to use this to make everything worse for him, lol

Given the timelines it's actually possible for them to arrive right around when or immediately after he's dealing with Olympia.

I mean obviously they'd get killed at some point but not until after making it clear that Emps would be chill with the whole thing (heh)

like "yeah you did the correct thing for the Imperium, guess you are loyal after all" it's like tailor-made to make what was already his nadir, so much worse

Just the arrival is going to be like "I sacrifice ALL THIS for the Emperor and he doesn't even TRUST ME??? I get SPACE WOLVES of all people spying on me???"

I think this is like the one plausible scenario that could lead to him snapping and going "burn down the entire Imperium, none of us deserve to live"

it's not the only route he could take but I think it's entirely plausible for him to start going "the Imperium shouldn't exist, we're all monsters, my entire life was a lie", and just doing his best to make that a reality

an alternative of course being he pulls a Magnus and waits for someone to show up to kill him (though unlike Magnus he's not going to come out at the 11th hour to save people)

...or maybe he is? tragic redemption for perturabo that ultimately achieves nothing? (and yet...it does make a difference)

[haemosexuality]

im rewatching she-ra and naturally im gonna want to write about it a lot. starting by breaking down the catradora conflict origin story scene from s01e02 the sword part 2

people have said this before but the most important thing to keep in mind here is how different their understanding of whats going on is. theyre both approaching this with completely different views and so they misunderstand what the other means.

Adora: There's no time. We have to put a stop this.

Catra: What? Why?

Adora: Because this is a civilian town. Look around! These aren't insurgents. They're innocent people.

Catra: Yeah, sure. Innocent people who kidnapped a Horde officer. Now come on, let's get you back to the Fright Zone. Shadow Weaver is freaking out. [laughing] It'd be funny if she weren't such a terrible person.

so immediately theres two things i wanna say about this part, about how catra reacts to stuff. first off, something we learn about catra throughout the whole show and especially in the portal-alternative-reality, is that shes big on Pretending Nothing Is Wrong. whenever shes feeling upset or angry about something, she will start joking around and acting like shes just totally super chill guys, dw ("Ugh, whatever. It's not like I even care. I just wanna get out of this dump at some point before I dieee of boredom). Shes acting like that in this scene. Adora was missing for hours, shadow weaver was breathing down her neck and threatening her, she was already worried adora might have left at this point. she cant let adora know how worried she was tho, so shes all jokes and fast paced conversation. To Adora, tho, it just looks like catra doesnt care, like she doesnt understand the gravity of the situation.

and the other thing is that honestly? I dont think catra does care. about the town, i mean. i think catra was ready for war in a way adora never was. theyre both seeing combat for the first time here, and adora hates it. training for war is completely different than being in the battlefield, and adora couldnt handle it. face to face with it she couldnt tolerate seeing people suffering and dying, houses being burned down, a whole village destroyed. when the horde brainwashed adora into thinking they were only doing the necessary to save etheria, she completely and fully believed it, and when faced with the reality of the horde she immediately realized how wrong that was. Catra, tho, could not care less. she never believed in what the horde said, she knew full well what the horde did, so this isnt a surprise for her. and i do think shes naturally a bit sadistic, or at least growing up among the violence of the horde made her so. either way, shes seeing battle here for the first time and shes completely fine with it. doesnt even spare it all a second glance. why would she care about these people she never met if the most important thing in the world is right here in front of her? (i think even if adora hadnt left that night and went into the battlefield as a force captain, she wouldve ended up deserting. she cant stand seeing people suffer and she cant stand not saving them. shes too good, too selfless for that. catra isnt.) (also she is so ready to kill at all times. she loves violence. i once saw someone say how shadow weaver thought adora was the "cutthroat, ruthless warrior" when that was actually catra and they were totally right)

adora is also trying something futile here, she doesnt need to explain to catra that the horde is bad and hurts innocent ppl because catra has known that all her life

Adora: Catra, no. I can't go back. Not until the Horde leaves this town alone. You have to help me.

Catra: What are you saying?

Adora: I’m saying, this is wrong. They've been lying to us, manipulating us. Hordak, Shadow Weaver, all of them.

Catra: Duh! Did ya just figure that out? Manipulation is Shadow Weaver's whole thing. She's been messing with our heads since we were kids.

(the captions in the pics are slightly wrong, nvm that.) everything i said before. adora just realized all of this, while catra has always known, probably because the abuse adora suffered was more manipulation-and-brainwashing, while shadow weaver always made clear to catra that she didnt give a shit about her, so she suffered physical abuse with little attempt to convince her this was fine.

the "what are you saying?" is one of the things that show how different their perspective is. adora is talking about going against the horde and helping the town, while catra immediately gets more personal. what do you mean? are you saying that you might leave the horde? leave me?

Adora: How could you possibly be okay with that?

adora means, how could you be ok with the horde lying about its actions, and killing innocent people? how could you be ok with the horde raising us to do the same? and catra hears, how could you be ok with shadow weaver and hordak abusing us?

Catra: Because, it doesn't matter what they do. The two of us look out for each other. And soon we'll be calling the shots. Now come on, can we go home already?

catra replies: because, i love you. because you have my back and i have yours. because nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other, remember? and soon enough, we'll be powerful enough that they cant hurt us anymore. Adora hears, because i dont care about these people dying, the only thing thats important is you and i. and anyways, soon its gonna be Us killing them, isnt that good? lets go back home to the evil murder place.

Adora: I'm not going home, Catra. I can't. Not after everything I've seen. Come with me. You don't have to go back there. We can fix this.

adora says: im starting to realize now how wrong i was about everything. we're not the good guys, and i cant stand for that. i cant stand around and watch people get hurt. i cant stand around and watch you get hurt. lets leave, together, and have a better life, please. lets do the right thing.

Catra: Are you kidding? You've known these people for, what, a couple of hours? And now you're just gonna throw everything away for them?

catra hears, shes willing to leave me. after everything i did for her, all that i took, all of these years of us being together, she would still leave me. she would break our promise. she would leave me behind.

and then she straight up electrocutes adora. ok

she says it was a reflex, but i dont know if i believe her. i dont think she likes hurting adora (not physically. not by this point, anyways), but i do think that shes the type to lash out when upset and immediately regret it, then feel guily about it. which just makes her more upset. :(

Catra: Oh, man. That was a lot stronger than I thought. Are you okay?

Adora: Why are you doing this?

Catra: Because you left me! And if I don't bring you back, Shadow Weaver’s gonna have my head. So, enough with your weird little identity crisis and let's go home already. Or do I need to zap you again?

thats the last time they talk. adora gets teleported away by glimmer, and when they see each other again, its clear that they both made their choice.

the moment adora showed catra she was willing to leave her, there was no coming back for them. because catra would never get over that. she'd spend all her life in that hellscape, putting up with abuse and bullying and probably so much more we dont get to see, because of the promise adora made her. and, in her eyes, adora was ready to leave her on the first opportunity that came up. that hurt. that broke her. and that released something really ugly inside of her.

cue in 2,5 years of homoerotic rivalry and trauma. ok post over if you read this i hope you liked it <3 bye

[fancyfade]

Thoughts on the most recent comics featuring Damian?

I'm not really a fan, but I also don't hate it the way I've hated so much of the comics before (ever since teen titans)

Also, maybe I missed it because admittedly I didn't read all of batman and robin, but was everything with Alfred and bruce's horrible way of handling that, EVER addressed?

Like I remember Damian being so angry and bruce screwing over so many times and failing to properly talk or comfort him, then Damian just ran off and did his own thing. Quit Robin too? The tournament, his mother and grandfather, and all the batfamily were also chasing him at one point with Dick letting him go? Then at one point Ra's Al Ghul dies? and in the same comic Bruce kind of implies Alfred's death was Damian's fault?

And then suddenly in Batman and Robin Damian is living with Bruce again and going to school and there's this entire juvenile plot with his teacher? like im sorry but it was so cringe and the way they got from point A to point B is so weird.

The latest arc with memento and Damian questioning everything is slightly better, but I don't really think it's executed in the best way, and they just feel like completely different characters. (Again, not sure if I just missed a bunch of things, but I can buy Damian's change in behaviour in the recent comics if him reaching that point had felt cohesive, like they did when he was vulnerable in the 2011 run with Nobody, but unfortunately that isn't the case here. It's like a lot of the necessary moments happened off panel).

The most recent arc feels like an interesting alternate reality, but I'm genuinely having trouble seeing it as canon.

Thoughts?

I don't really think that Batman and Robin (2023) is OOC once we get to PKJ's run. We get a lot of classic Damian stuff back, like him being rough around the edges (still caring about people) and him and Bruce not understanding each other/communication issues. I don't see how they feel like completely different characters.

(Damian actually did also voice his annoyance at Bruce for the Alfred situation in that run as well, though it was not addressed in depth).

The williamson comics are very cringe and bad though. you can tell that Williamson views a lot of what makes Damian interesting (his confidence/arrogance, being rough around the edges, having a COMPLICATED dynamic with how he was raised) is a flaw, and he eitehr has damian "develop" out of those traits or greatly flattens Damian's training.

And then yeah the Batman and Robin (2023) start by Williamson felt like a rough draft. Like he got bored with his plot halfway through.

I do think this phrasing

in the same comic Bruce kind of implies Alfred's death was Damian's fault?

Is a bit taken out of context. Like the same arc (by the same writer) has Bruce clarify that he was saying he *shouldn't* have sent Damian in there (which was incredibly OOC for Bruce when his previous conflict with Damian in Batman and Robin 2011 was often being annoyed that Damian was intentionally letting him get himself captured to help rescue people or solve the case).

So in general yeah Damian had a *ton* of bad writing, Teen Titans 2016 and then Williamson, but I feel like we're back on track. I don't like the fandom inclination to assume that a) Damian's going to quit and b) that will be a good thing, but I trust the writer enough to see where this is going. Though I wish he'd speed up the plot it feels like it's been taking forever.