#his parents built with him. he was their legacy. still is. and he understands that now. and he'll make sure he's one they can be proud of

[daycourtofficial]

Fireling

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 1.5k | warnings: none

Summary: every father’s dream is to be there the day his son first uses his powers. Luckily for Eris, he gets just that.

Note: this is a part of my gingerfucker series and is for day 2 of @erisweekofficial 🥰 I guess you can decide for yourself if this is more of the childhood or legacy promot

Eris sighed as he moved through the halls of the Forest House, the wiggling mass in his arms not deterring him in the slightest. Every time one of his hands was loosened from the boy, it would reappear elsewhere, making the small version of himself wiggle even harder.

In all his years, he had helped raise all of his brothers, became quite familiar with several of the servant’s children over the years, and yet his firstborn child was an utter mystery to him. Almost three years old, Atlas had never been capable of sitting still for even a moment.

It made changing his nappy a monumental task.

A physical replica of himself, Atlas loved roaming the halls and seeing old portraits of Eris, slightly confused when he would be corrected that no, that was Dada. An answer he didn’t like, because the idea of his parents having lives previous to his existence was unfathomable at best and upsetting to the point of tears at worst.

He wiggled around in Eris’ arms, the High Lord looking absurd as he moved his arms to catch where the young heir would go next.

Atlas, above all else, liked routine. He enjoyed structure of some kind. It was very easy for the boy to fall into routines - if you did the same activity three days in a row around the same time, he began expecting it.

Which led Eris to open the door to Atlas’ room, letting the boy down to run.

He closed the door behind him, his son spinning around the room, soft giggles echoing through the space.

“See, dada?”

“Yes, now I understand why spinning in the front foyer was impossible and you had to do it in here under my watch.”

“Mama’s sick, so it’s Dada time.”

You were pregnant again, but it was during the early stages where you were tired all of the time, food did not sound appetizing, and you were incredibly sensitive to smells.

Eris had swelled with pride when you were able to tell him, before immediately throwing up onto his shoes. It was endearing how apologetic you were, even though he opted to just throw out the shoes, the socks, and the trousers before he spent a solid thirty minutes in the bath, scrubbing furiously as he tried to battle the conflicting thoughts that moved through his head. It filled him with immeasurable joy and excitement to see a new babe, his thoughts constantly wondering how much this second babe will resemble Atlas.

But a whole new set of worries came with a second babe. How would Atlas, the center of his world, react to having to share the attention?

Fae having children back to back so quickly was practically unheard of, so Eris had nothing to compare it to.

Atlas was - and remains - an easy babe. He’s a bit particular, but overall he is smart, kind and he cares so much about the smallest things, it constantly leaves Eris both in awe and slightly annoyed that his son insists they greet every tree by name whenever they pass them.

Eris watched as Atlas spun about the room, his red curls bouncing with each step.

You had been sick the past few days, spending the mornings cuddled up in bed with Atlas until his wiggling body made your stomach turn with nausea, which was when Eris would bring Atlas to his room and have him run, jump, and spin around until he wore himself out.

Thus a new routine was built.

Atlas’s giggles changed, becoming quicker and louder causing Eris to look up just in time to watch Atlas spin around the room, his arms outstretched into a ‘T’. As he spun through the air, little sparks began forming in his wake, tracing where he had just been spinning.

Eris stopped breathing, watching carefully. His thoughts stilled, knowing if he said or did anything, Atlas would stop. So he waited with bated breath, watching Atlas spin until he fell down, too dizzy to stay up on his small legs. As he fell, a burst of sparks erupted, small flames shot from his hands as he fell on the pile of pillows.

His giggles became louder, but Eris could hardly hear them.

It had been a few years since Beron’s death, since Eris felt the magic leave Beron’s body and his own absorb it - the same magic Atlas may one day possess. So much of his life was plagued with thoughts that always related back to Beron, all roads leading back to his father.

Some small part of him worried without Beron, there would be some hole in his chest, some emptiness at losing his purpose, the fire within him extinguishing with Beron.

His worries, like most these days, had been for nothing. He hardly ever thought about Beron since his death - only on nights when his dreams turn into nightmares, when various reminders of his father made their presence known amongst the hidden secrets of the Forest House.

Watching Atlas, his mind drifted to Beron. His son looked exactly like he did, but neither of them resembled Beron much. The only difference between Eris and his son were their eyes: Eris had Beron’s eyes - a cold, calculated look to them at all times. Meanwhile Atlas had the Lady of Autumn’s eyes - a bright, kind look that made the amber glow with warmth.

They were both the spitting image of Eris’s mother.

He thought of Beron as Atlas twirled about the room, tiny sparks coming from him getting bigger and bigger. He watched his son spin, the sparks catching onto his sweater before being burnt out.

Most of the clothing worn by anyone working in the Forest House was flame resistant - a lingering tradition from when Eris was young that continued well past the birth of each of his brothers, continuing well after Beron began delighting in making those that were incompetent walk around with flames adorning their clothes, the heat enough to make them sweat.

Eris’s thoughts whirled and swirled, the past few years a whirlwind of managing a court and becoming a father, a title so foreign to him he doesn’t know what to make of it.

Father.

An incredibly loaded word, always on the tip of his tongue as if he were still getting used to it after three years.

The High Lord title was easier to bear.

Atlas now stood, opening and closing his small hands, eyes widening each time he opened them. His brows crinkled as he looked on in determination, briefly flicking his eyes to check if Eris was still watching him.

His stance faltered as he made a small flame appear in one of his hands, amber eyes bright with the light in front of him. His gaze was pulled from the flame to his father, who was watching with a sad gaze.

Eris watched as Atlas produced the flame, a surge of pride and happiness growing in his chest, before the past reared its ugly head. He remembered when he first produced a flame intentionally - he was somewhere around his son’s age, and he had been so ecstatic he had spent the following weeks practicing to show his father.

He remembered how Beron looked down at Eris over his sloping nose, how Eris had felt extraordinarily small beneath his gaze. He thought it was how ants must look up at him.

Beron hadn’t said anything when Eris had shown him his powers, offering an unamused look at being disturbed before leaving the room.

He remembered watching him go, lip wobbling harder with each step, tears streaming down his face until new steps approached, and his mother watched him show off his new skills, despite having seen it each time the past few weeks.

He was jolted from the past, the present coming back to him in vivid colors as warmth flared against his cheeks, a tiny, freckled face looking at him. Atlas had crawled into his lap, his tiny hands too small to hold Eris’s face, but his touch remained there.

His hands were so warm, Eris drew back some of his own heat from his face to really feel his son’s power, to let his cheeks bask in the warmth of a son he never saw coming.

“Dada?”

It took that one word, a soft voice full of wonder and concern. One word from the small boy who warmed his soul.

He had spent months agonizing over what kind of father he would be - fears that were squashed each time Atlas looked up at him as if he had never done anything wrong. As if he held all the answers and all Atlas had to do was ask.

Atlas, much happier with Eris’s full attention on him, stuck out his tongue once more, deep in concentration before Eris saw from the bottom of his peripheral tiny flames dancing across his skin.

His smile was impossible to contain, and Atlas immediately mirrored his father’s expression.

He didn’t know what kind of father he would be. He didn’t know how Atlas and the new babe would speak of him decades and centuries from now.

But he would be there.

And he would try.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @panther-girl-124

[maxdibert]

I’m a Brit and think that’s pretty spot on about James trying to put Snape back in his place…Snape doesn’t just offend their sensibilities because he’s working class, but because he doesn’t consider himself inferior and because he’s visibly trying to social climb through academics and connections, the ambition oozes from him (good for him! wish he’d had better mentors!) there is literally *nothing* a British snob disdains more than a social climber. Not getting above your station is considered the ultimate virtue. There’s a bit of this in Lily’s objections to Snape’s Slytherin friends too…obviously her main issue is that they’re bigoted cunts, but there’s definitely also a hint of unflattering disbelief about him being accepted (however conditionally) by well-connected scions.

Whenever I think about class analysis in Harry Potter, I do so fully aware of how intense the topic of social class has always been in Britain. It’s something I’ve always known, but when I lived there, it became much clearer, so for me, the issue of classism in this context is pretty obvious. I also think the issue of social class and the expectation from the upper echelons (especially the aristocracy) that those from below should stay below and know their place is something very common across Europe—especially in countries where monarchies and, therefore, aristocratic elites still persist today. This means that society isn’t entirely shaped by the neoliberal capitalist perception of class seen in countries like the United States, where the “self-made millionaire” is glorified. Instead, there is a deeply ingrained perception that above the self-made millionaire stands the aristocrat, the name, the old money. The name often matters more than the money because a name represents prestige, pedigree—it’s part of the DNA of a society built on the foundations of an old regime whose pillars haven’t fallen but simply modernized. This is something that also happens in Spain, which, like England, is a monarchy, or in other European countries where monarchies may no longer exist but held significant power over the past two centuries. These nations still retain a strong legacy of social hierarchies rooted in aristocracy within their societal structures.

James and Sirius weren’t just wealthy—translated into a real-world context, they would be aristocrats. They were people of family names and lineages stretching back hundreds of generations. They weren’t just boys from good families; their families were at the pinnacle of the social scale. Severus ended up in a Hogwarts house where not only were the students from high social classes, they were also ARISTOCRATS. He was a working-class kid, but not just that—he came from an industrial area, which on the social scale is just one step above peasants. The only thing that positions an industrial worker above a peasant is that industrial workers are located in cities, and within the web of social classes, cities rank above rural areas. This is something we understand very well in Europe.

From a practical standpoint and from a class perspective, Severus was already at the bottom in the Muggle world. But on top of that, in the wizarding world, he was a half-blood—not because he had parents who were magical but Muggle-born, but because one of his parents was a Muggle, the same parent who gave him his surname. The difference in status between him and Lily in that sense was practically nonexistent. Severus wasn’t just poor from a neoliberal perspective; from the traditionalist perspective of how social classes interact, he came from the very bottom, both in terms of his social position and his blood status. Ignoring that basically disregards not only the lens of class and the significant power imbalance between the characters but also reveals an immense level of cultural ignorance—not just about British culture but about European culture as a whole.

[phoenixkaptain]

I just want to say that the repeated mentions of Tim being like Bruce - Dick telling Tim that “you’re more like Bruce than I ever was” and even things as small as the other members of Young Justice assuming that Batman is literally Robin’s dad - mean so much to me because like-

Tim is so similar to Bruce. They are both rich kids, only childs, people like them but they never let anyone truly know them. Tim’s deductive ability is so often likened to Bruce’s, and even his combat prowess or leadership skills are more often compared to Bruce’s than Jason’s or Dick’s. Despite being Robin, and the third one at that, Tim really takes being the Batman of the group to an entirely new level with just how much he really is like Batman.

And that’s why they work so well together! Tim and Bruce are so similar, but they’re fundamentally different! Bruce is afraid to get hurt again, afraid to feel connections to other people, afraid of revealing his emotional vulnerability. Tim is afraid of disappointing people, afraid to fail to rise to the standards other people set for him, afraid of revealing that he isn’t as calm as he appears on the outside. Bruce and Tim both begin fighting crime out of love, a love so strong that it would lead either of them to give up their lives for that love, but Bruce does so out of a love for Gotham City and his parents and the legacy they represent to him while Tim does so out of a love for Gotham City and Robin and Batman.

Their partnership is built on their similarities, but it’s improved by their differences. Tim is softer than Bruce. He wants to trust people, he doesn’t enjoy making lists of ways to kill all of his friends. He tries to talk, to draw things out, to banter, while Bruce is more straightforward. Which, honestly, being more subtle than Bruce is a talent in its own right, ngl

Tim is described a lot as the perfect Robin. And, I can’t help but feel like yeah, he is. The writers really made this character perfect for Bruce specifically. Tim is a person who understands what Bruce wants him to do, even if he doesn’t always understand why. Tim cares about Bruce, both Bruce Wayne and Batman, and that care knocks down a lot of Bruce’s walls. Tim wants to fight crime with his friends and enjoy himself, but he also has his main goal which is to protect Bruce, especially from Bruce himself.

And it’s a two-way street. Bruce knows Tim so well. Like, I can’t even begin to describe how well Bruce can read Tim. He can tell that Tim’s care is sincere, and he wants to reciprocate that care. He trusts Tim, on such a deep, foundational level, and he trusts that if Tim lies to him, then Tim has a balid reason for doing so. He’s protective of Tim, even more than Tim is protective of him (for obvious reasons), but he’s also proud of Tim. He’s proud of how Tim can work with people and how Tim can handle his own and how Tim can solve cases.

Bruce and Tim are such a dynamic duo, literally. The understanding they have of each other is amazing. The trust they have in each other. The care. Bruce treats Tim like his son, and Tim honestly treats Bruce like his dad, even while Tim’s birth dad is still alive. These two are great together, they work so well together, they fit each other almost perfectly because Tim was literally made to be perfectly suited for Batman.

And, of course, there is an obsession there. Tim’s obsession with Batman runs deep. He would almost certainly make a great Batman, no matter how you look at it, because he has moments where he reaches that ability to be threatening. Of the times I know that he played Batman, he didn’t do a bad job. He’s intimidating and frightening and he manages to have his cape pulled around himself so he’s just a shape, just like Bruce does, and that’s mostly because he also literally does that same thing as Robin. Tim prefers to be Robin, because he prefers to be partnered with someone else.

(To be completely honest, I think Tim’s first choice of who he would want to be paired with at any given moment is almost certainly Dick. Dude loves that guy. I haven’t seen if Batman Dick and Robin Tim interact in those respective roles, but Tim is almost equally made to be Nightwing’s Robin. Bruce is his second choice though, definitely.)

I have to assume the obsession goes both ways, because the story is a lot more interesting if it does. Bruce is protective of Tim, even as he trusts Tim with the fate of the entire planet. His protectiveness of Tim is funny, actually, because he doesn’t mind Tim fighting gods but he does mind Tim showing the other members of Young Justice his face. (I mean, I get that one of the members is named Impulse, but Bart himself said that Batman gave him that name, so I feel like Bruce bringing it up as a detractor is just a bit hypocritical)

All the times we see Batman with Tim in the Young Justice run, Batman is pretty chill. Like, during the Sins of Youth storyline, when Bruce is Robin and Tim is Batman, Bruce seems totally cool with it. He doesn’t seem worried about Tim messing up. His comments on Tim talking to much read more to me as banter than actual criticisms. Bruce trusts Tim to be Batman, and I find that both sweet and a bit funny for a variety of reasons.

We see Batman get mad when Arrowette says the Justice League doesn’t understand any of the Young Justice members, although even then he just glares at her, he doesn’t say anything. Bruce is like “Yes, I know I don’t understand the majority of human interaction, what of it?” Batman doesn’t say much during that whole comic, actually? Like, he shows up with the rest of the Justice League and he taunts Tim (literally like someone taunting a child pfft) but he doesn’t actually seem to think they won’t pull through? He makes a quip about them being late getting back, but it doesn’t go anywhere, it was him teasing Robin, why was he even here?

(I like to think he kind of hoped Young Justice would disban so he could take Tim back. He obviously wants Tim around, he implies as much in the World Without Grownups arc, and he obviously enjoys Tim’s company, he seems to genuinely enjoy fighting crime with Tim, even when their roles are switched, and he lets Tim talk to Oracle all the time (he definitely could have cut that connection off if he really wanted to make it difficult for Tim during that whole bet thing) Like, Bruce believes that Tim is capable, I think he’s like Wonder Woman and thinks that the others (coughImpulseandSuperboycough) are bad influences. He is taking his boy wonder and leaving to get him good influences, like Nightwi- oh, wait, no, yeah, let’s let him hang out with Impulse and Superboy-)

This turned into a ramble about Young Justice, but I can’t help it!!! I really, REALLY wish that Batman had gone to the parent-teacher conference. Like, Nightwing showing up was wonderful on so many levels, but can you imagine?? Batman?? Dealing with Bonnie King-Jones??? Like, I think if he ever met her he would break the no-killing rule, full-stop, no hesitation. I want to know how the parent-teacher conference would have gone if Batman was there. I think it would have been mostly awkward silence while Batman lurked in the shadows and Red Tornado didn’t understand why everyone was so nervous, like, it’s just talking about what time he should feed their kids, why are you guys sweating-?

I love Tim and Bruce’s relationship. They’re so codependent. I don’t know if Bruce could ever not hold the next Robins up to Tim’s standard. Like, Damian trying to kill Tim makes a lot of sense if you look at it as Damian viewing the situation as “there only needs to be one Robin, and if there is a Tim to be compared to, I will lose.” Dick and Jason were great as Robin, but neither of them were Robin during the period of time in the nineties and early 2000s where Batman got a lot edgier and needed an edgier boy to be Robin. Dick was perfect for the 50s through to at least the 70s, and Jason was probably just fine too (still haven’t read Jason comics hrnng) but Tim fits Bruce perfectly because he was made for the more modern vision of Batman as a character.

Tim is a dweeb and a nerd, just like Dick before him, do not think that he isn’t, but he really works as a balance for Bruce. He was introduced to be that equilibrium, and he fulfills that role.

Tim and Bruce work so well together because they’re just on slightly different sides of a spectrum. They’re so close to being too similar, but they’re dissimilar enough that reading their dynamic is engaging and interesting. Tim really just is the Robin I understand people mistaking for Bruce’s blood kid, y’know? Before Damian, I mean. I feel like the Justice League members met Tim and went “whoa, shit, Batman knocked someone up, holy-“ The Young Justice members continuously genuinelybelieve that Batman is Robin’s dad (which makes it a lot funnier, because if he was Tim’s dad, Tim would essentially be saying: “my dad made me do this and won’t let me do this and to make things worse, my DAD moved us out!” Like, why would he just randomly mention who the subject of the conversation was again at such a pointed time? I understand that Superboy and Bart were not paying attention to him, but it’s just really funny to think that Tim would talk in such a strange way?) I like to think that Dick does not help matters, and instead goes out of his way to worsen them, because Dick is always the one telling Tim that he’s doing great and that he’s so similar to Bruce (he means it as a compliment, like Tim isn’t making the mistakes he thinks he’s making because he, just like Batman, just is unlikely to make mistakes) so I think Dick definitely tells his friends that Robin is Batman’s kid because it’s funny-

And this has gone from rambling about Young Justice to writing fanfiction mid-post, I should really stop while I’m ahead.

All in all, to sum it up, TLDR: Tim was made to be the best Robin specifically for Bruce as Batman. That’s why they work in harmony, but are ultimately entirely different instruments.

[urlocalrambler]

DN fanfic: an exploration into Kai Mori's mind while he's in prison. Introspective piece. So get ready for self-loathing, the woes of the disgraced son and the Banks reminiscence and yearning that we deserved.

My first Devils Night fanfiction ever. Actually, it's my first writing piece in a long time in general, but fuck it, we balling. I've always struggled a little with understanding Kai, but I think this piece helped me get more of a grip on my characterisation of him <3.

_

Kai sits in jail, and he knows he's a scrouge on his family name. He’s the shameful blot in their lineage, the fuck up who keeps on giving even when all they want is for him to stop. Kai's the shadow in his family's illustrious life. A good boy gone wrong, the ungrateful child, responsible for his mother's tight smiles and fervent worry — he’s the parasite leeching away at his mother's kindness, carelessly ruining the happy life his father fought to give her. It took one blow of a hammer slamming against a gavel, and his parents have a sword of humiliation rammed into their guts. The pain is only dug in deeper with the indignity of a sentence of 28 months lost to the confines of walls crammed to the brim with prisoners, with his fitted suits for interviews traded in for a standardised orange jumpsuit, as a lifestyle befitting of an animal is thrust into the hands of their only son. 

The worst part is that they still loved him despite his neverending failures.

"–Gave him three broken ribs. So he fractured his fucking spine."

"Who?"

"The rich brat. Mori. He didn't even hesitate."

"Shit, he might belong here, after all."

Yeah, maybe he does belong here.

From the start of it all, he's been the defining reason for the lines marring his father's forehead, those were wrinkles etched in from worrying about Kai's unfortunate tendencies, but he's still forgiven again and again for every indiscretion that they catch him in and he learns to forgive himself for the thousands that they don't know about as a default. Kai's allowed to follow his own path even if it means spitting at his father's feet and disparaging the legacy that Katsu built with his roughened hands. It's wrong, grievously so, but he takes the chances and the freedom, Kai proves he's a certified fuck up. Useless boy who's worth nothing much when compared to the father who tried to give him every head start in life no matter what it cost. Katsu's a man who pulled his family out of poverty, he gives his wife her old life back tenfold, and Kai’s the worthless son who ruins it by gorging himself on endless vices, amusing himself by toeing the lines, and eventually, he gets a crew and starts obliterating the lines. Never improving even as they ardently pray for him, Kai only gets worse as the years pass.

Everyone knows it in Thunder Bay. Kai Mori's a cautionary tale in the flesh. 

The good boy who gets caught up in the wrong crowd and suffers for it. Prince amongst the heathens, gilded gold stained by their tar, a demon playing at being an angel. Kinder smiles and 'thank you's' on his tongue don’t get rid of the taste of sin, but they mask it well enough. Until it suddenly doesn't anymore, and they see that he's made of the same strokes as his friends. Demon, not an angel. Predator, not the prey. Villain, never a prince. Sins can't be hidden forever in a modern era of phones to the ear and the glimmer of cameras catching their every move. He should’ve known better than to have expected zero consequences – Kai hid his truths better than his friends ever managed to, but an unchained nature couldn't be hidden forever.

People were predisposed to making assumptions. 

In Thunder Bay, they accepted and revered the version of him that they thought they knew, and they share their aggrieved regrets as his fall from grace occurs in the brightened spotlight. Analysed just like Icarus, with a tragic fate of his own making – Kai can't meet his father's eyes for the first couple of weeks after his wrongs are aired to the public. Kai Mori had potential in spades, the gossip somberly chastens, and he squandered it away on freedom ravelled within insanity, he wasted a guaranteed future on the kind of lust that made priests look away in discomfort, and he ruined himself due to a useless loyalty towards friends that should've never amounted to much more than a footnote in his life.

Outsiders never understood how the blood of the covenant could run thicker than the water of the womb. They didn't feel the allure of darkness in its fullest form. Nor could they understand the power that control gave him when it was cradled in his palms, and he had chaos biting at his neck. She had, though, that one girl who hides in his mind just like she'd veiled herself into that confession all those years ago– she understood it all, and she even fed into it back then. 

He wonders what she felt when she saw him in cuffs. 

Mystery Girl was among his worst mistakes, mostly because she quickly became his darkest daydream and a favourite nightmare.

Kai's quiet when he does it. In the showers, when heat spindles against the mirror, he washes off the heat of shame by engaging in more depravity. He thinks about her often. And he's not gentle, not even close to it. Whenever he thinks about girls wrapped up in men's clothes, in shirts that aren't his, he's harsh and angry because they should've been his clothes, she should've been his girl. He thinks of smart quips on the curve of her lips, and he wonders how sweet it would've been to have held her and shut her up in the way he'd desperately wanted to whenever she said the name of a man who wasn't him. Kai's got a hand on his cock and he jerks it hard to the thoughts of her. 

Chocolate hair. Green eyes. Golden skin. Daydreams and nightmares. 

She's the only thing he never got that he'd desperately wanted in his golden years; she's the thing he still wants so carnally even in his darkest hours. Wants her thighs wrapped around his torso, wants his name to be the only thing she's capable of saying by the time he's done with her, wants her marked and ruined by the touch of him and him only. Indulging in her, Kai knows, would've been his favourite sin. Back then, he got only a speck, got nothing more than a touch, and he'd still been hopelessly addicted, high on fumes when he had the wisp of her silhouetted in his arms, and he was in withdrawal whenever he lost her to a man he hated and loved in equal measure. Just a taste back then, just the thoughts now, and he's still maddeningly hooked on her. Pretty girl, harsh girl, but never his girl. Sweet like candy with a tangy kick to her. She's the only drug in his veins, inching in without warning, putting him in a trance and an unruly high.

In the dead of night, she visits him, and Kai welcomes her. 

He is a fuck-up, Kai knows it well. Somehow, he's still so ready to engage in the betrayal of his brother in everything but blood. Damon's down in a living nightmare in solitary, and he dreams of stealing his girl. He dreams of using her up. He yearns to take her and have her feed the desires of his concupiscent flesh for as long as he wants, and he thinks he wants to keep her for months, for years, for as long as it takes until she feels more his than anything else.

Irreverent lust, onerous fingers, amatory desires, and all for what? A girl he had known all of a couple of weeks. And he thinks he'd sell the flesh on his back to go back to that time with her. For her, he thinks he'd do anything because if she's a reverie then he's a victim to the ghost of her. Kai thinks of her and that hotel room, and he wonders why he let his dream girl go. 

She's the only person to ever make him feel alive, to make him feel desire on an impulse, the only one who could easily stoke his dangerous need for control, and she did it all without ever trying. No fight to take and no need to make his blood boil; there was no need to force himself into those conversations with her because he was already obsessed with her voice from the second he heard it. Everything came naturally when it was with her. 

He thinks she could've been his if she hadn't been Damon's to keep. 

Kai laughs when he grips the plexiglass, breathes harder, and strokes faster– she's certainly not either’s now, and she wasn't his back then, but she is all Kai’s in the darkness of his mind. Smooth skin pressed against his chest, lips to his neck, and she's begging for it, for his dirty criminal's hands to stay on her neck. Moaning, whining, crying for more. He's undone by the idea of her, air caught in the chasm of his lungs, knuckles tightened to a pale white, as he gives into his favourite nightmare. Kai's spent by the thought of her, the evidence washed away by water, as his back presses against the shower wall. 

Suddenly, he's almost glad that he doesn't see Damon here at all. Kai tries to convince himself that he should be relieved that he'll likely never see her again either (it doesn't work but he tries). If he doesn't see her, then it means the fantasies, the output of those unreachable desires, can stay intact.

There's no Damon to stop him. No dancer in a hotel to distort what they could've had. No blood to mop away and no nights to hide away. It was just him and her again.

In his dreams, Banks is everything he still desires.

In his dreams, she belongs to no one else.

In his dreams, Banks is all his.

--

[darkcrowprincess]

Batfamily: what I think about each robin

(I'm only going to mention my thoughts on the robins that I have the most information about. Most of my knowledge comes from wiki, cartoons, movies, wayne family adventures and fanfiction. This is how I personally see them)

Dick Grayson: He is the performer robin, watch as flies through the air with ease. He's pure loyalty and deserves his own category as a hero. He is the blue print on which the legacy of robin is built on. He stands toe to toe with batman and grows to be better than him because he can be both darkness and light.

Jason Todd: The rebel robin. Just bravery and guts man. The bravest and boldest of the robins. Even when he is filled with so much fear, trauma and rage. With all the bad things that happen to him he still cares. Cares too much at times but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. That doesn't change the fact that he's so good. So good even with all the blood on his hands. Even with all the anger and violence. Jason still cares so much. You can obviously tell which ones my favorite. So I'm probably bias when it comes to him.

Tim Drake: Robin of compassion. The very essence of his robin is that he chose this. Batman needed a robin, no one else was there so he stepped up. Even if he started out with no training and no one wanted him there he became robin because batman and gotham needed one. Yes Tim is incredibly intelligent and cunning. But everything he's based on his his empathy and compassion for others.

Damian Wayne: Honestly I don't understand his reasons to be robin. I don't understand him. His robin being a legacy thing and being trained to fight from a young age. It's like they wanted to created a surprise robin that was related to batman that happened to be super violent and raised by assassins. Like the complete opposite of the other robins. Why does Damian even want to be robin? Because of his family? Because of his parents? Does Damian even like fighting or is that just something ingrained in him because of how he was raised? Damian is not my favorite robin but I do like parts of his character. Like when he loves animals and how he tries to bond with his siblings. I get why he is the way he is. But he's just again not my favorite.

Duke Thomas: I desperately want to know more about him. His powers sound really cool. His origins as well. I just really want a Duke Thomas movie or cartoon. He seems really sweet in wayne family adventures comics.

Stephanie Brown: Has to be my least favorite of the robins in general. Probably will get me a lot of hate for disliking her. I do not get her. Her character feels all over the place to me. She reminds me a lot of Annabeth from Percy Jackson series books and I don't like her much either. I'm probably being unfair. But it's my opinion. I feel bad for not liking her because everyone seems to love her, but I just don't get the hype.

And that's it, I know there's probably a few more robins I'm not mentioning. Especially someone name Carrie. But I don't know a lot about her. But yeah those or my thoughts on the robins. You can probably tell Jason and Tim are my favorite robins. Dick gets a category of his own because again he's Dick Grayson. I'll probably talk more later about Cass and Barbara once I watch more stuff with them. A separate post to add with Batwoman because they seem really cool.

(Don't like don't read. Post hate and I'll block you!)

[gffa]

THIS ARC WAS SO GOOD, because it just absolutely nailed the two themes it has at its heart: 1. Being Batman isn't just about loss, it's just as much about what he gained, that without what happened that night, he would not have his this family with him. That maybe he does still resent Gotham, but he also loves it for what it's given him. 2. That Bruce wouldn't go back. He wouldn't save his parents at the cost of the life he's built, he will stay with this life--this family. With Dick and Damian and Alfred there, the ones that most exemplify his legacy and that they're his sons more than they're anything else to him (Jason and Tim are also his sons, Cass is also his daughter, but not quite in the same way, that I think Dick and Damian's young ages when they came to Bruce made them something a little different), he has a very obvious choice to make. His parents or the children he's been given. And Bruce chooses to go forward with the family he's been given. He mourns having to let go of his parents again, he's still driven by their deaths, it doesn't mean that it won't lay him low again in the future, but it does mean that Bruce has reached a point where his family now isn't one he would give up to go back and regain his parents. They aren't just convenient soldiers to order around, they're people he'll choose over the very thing that defines him, simply because he loves them. The whole story has been threaded through with Dick and Damian walking all over that hallowed ground of Bruce's feelings about his parents, so to end the story with the very explicit understanding that Bruce would not give up his kids to bring back his parents, that they are just as important to who he is and what he wants as his parents (maybe more important in some ways), is so good. SO GOOD. Like, there's that old issue of Gotham Knights where Dick thinks that they're different, that he wouldn't go back to his parents instead of this life he's built, but that he thinks Bruce would--but, when the choice is actually in front of Bruce, he chooses Dick, Damian, and Alfred, he chooses to be Batman and the future that he's built because of it, not just the impersonal idea of justice or the desire to hit things with his fist. But very specifically, very explicitly he chooses it because he looks over and sees the people he loves and says that family is the only thing that really matters. Bruce wouldn't go back. He'll choose his kids and his father figure even over his own parents. Their deaths will always hurt him, it will always drive him, but it won't always be loss.

[phantomchick]

The themes of Naruto and how the fact he and Sasuke are reincarnations/part of a cycle expands on those themes

Some guy was going on about how the reincarnation thing in Naruto was an asspull and when people pulled receipts and showed him panels from part one that hinted at it he maintained that it was still terrible because the whole destiny thing ruined the themes of the manga and I'm here like somebody really read the whole manga yet missed out on the themes of peace through absolute power vs peace through understanding that were key to the whole thing.

The Akatsuki's dream of peace is enforced on the rest of the world through the absolute power of the 9 bijuu powered infinite tsukuyomi. Sasuke chases power in order to avenge his family so he can be at peace + not have the threat of Itachi killing any further family he makes all over again hanging over him. Naruto comes to peace with those around him by understanding them whether or not he considers their past actions forgiveable, he chases Sasuke because he understands that Sasuke's motivation of revenge isn't wrong but the way he's going about it is actively self-destructive and hurts both him and those who care about him.

The whole idea of the villages I think are to show that it's a cycle of hatred, between war and peace, between might making right and compassion being the key and Sasuke and Naruto are symbolically representative of it all!

The theme of generational trauma is also all over the world of Naruto! Whether it's the legacy of the Uzumaki sacrificed to become the jinchuriki of the nine tails, a burden his parents pass onto Naruto; Kakashi's trauma stemming from his father's, Hinata and Neji both innocent kids but who are divided by the toxic customs of their family when they should be like siblings to each other, Hashirama and Madara bearing the weight of the brother war the Senju-Uchiha conflict and how hard it is to achieve peace even in a world where neither side actually wants to fight because of all the history and distrust that's built up, the curse of hatred of the Uchiha stemming from Ootsutsuki Indra's madness and willingness to murder his closest friends for the sake of taking power by force, Obito being taken by his own clan patriarch, hurt when he tries to leave and brainwashed and traumatised into buying into the dream of a perfect world - he literally inherits his hatred for the existing one, Gaara and his siblings lives effected by their father's actions but also by the custom of jinchuriki being created in the first place, the children of Ame all orphaned by war, Kaguya the enslaver, Kaguya the dictator, leaving a fragment of her will called Zetsu aka 'tongue' that continues to spread hatred, fear and prejudice and divide the people hundreds of years on. Haku experiencing the results of both the ninja world 'shinobi are tools' belief system and the prejudice of Kirigakure towards those with bloodline limits when he's a child too young to fully understand either with Zabuza the demon of the bloody mist who killed all his classmates to end kiri's killer graduation exams once and for all who can't bring himself to express his genuine love for Haku until he's already dead. I mean I could go on but you get the point.

The reincarnation thing emphasises the themes of Naruto which are generational trauma, the power of brotherhood/friendship and peace through absolute power vs peace through understanding and last but not least endurance in the face of a hopelessly cynical world: aka The will of fire, the will/resolve to keep trying to improve things even a little for the sake of the next generation, to refuse to give up even when it appears hopeless. Like say when you've just gotten your ass kicked by an army of zombies, the remainder of Akatsuki, Obito, Zetsu and Uchiha fucking Madara, you've failed to stop the moon's eye plan and suddenly, things get worse and a literal all powerful Goddess descends on you when you're already exhausted and the rest of the army is comatose.

[redsparko]

Now that the Legacy of Gods books are done I’ve come to bestow everyone with my rankings of all six books.

6. God of Pain

Starting with GOP, it did not touch me like the other books did, I don’t hate but don’t love it, but compared to the others it’s definitely my least favorite. Plus his nickname for her? Little purple? Rina, please. If anything little annoyance. No but seriously, this may have been a unique nickname, I give props but the nickname does not hit for me.

5. God of War

Do not come at me with the pitch forks and knives. I do not hate Eli or Ava, in fact, I love them both very dearly. It’s just that their book confused me the most and that a lot of the buildup I had for them was just… meh.

The amnesia trope with Ava was confusing as fuck. The psychosis and praise kink however? Good shit. But compared to how the others books made me feel? Meh.

But him calling her beautiful? Has me feeling some sort of way.

4. God of Wrath

People will def hate me for this one. I know Jeremy and GOW is a BIG fan favorite, if not, second/first to GOF. But first reading GOW it did not touch me the same way a few of the other books did y’know? Like after rereading it like 5 more times I got a little more attached but Jeremy somewhat just didn’t do it for me.

This book however has the best parent-male love interest interactions

Lisichka as a nickname lowkey be cute but don’t got me feeling anything much

3. God of Malice

When I tell yall Killian and Glyndon are > I mean it. Killian is so—hot. Like actually has me on my knees. He’s most hated by Levi? Has lowkey all of the King men at his head? Hello? What’s not to like? Also obsessed with her? Plus the little scenarios they have together, the picnic scene where he kisses her forehead? Tells her to be good? The way she kissed his chest after telling him she just wanted to sleep? That sort of intimacy with a psychopath? Damn.

The use of “Baby” and “Sweetheart” has me fucking fluttering. Little Rabbit however? Made me feel nothing, pussy dry. Feel like it could’ve been substituted with Bunny, feels cuter, little bunny, adorable bunny, cheeky lil bunny. Bunny rolls off the tongue better but may be more on the nose, still better than Little Purple.

2. God of Ruin

I have a bias for Mia and Landon, they’re so perfect. I’m an artist, too, so like,.. the flattery of being someone’s muse is so touching, specially when Landon just,.. can’t stop observing every slope of her just to sculpt her, the fact he’s a genius sculptor yet believes nothing he’s made is worthy of the attention he gets. He’s not humble by no means but his menace energy is just funny.

Like this dude is asking for whatever he’s getting.

And the risk of choosing her over his own art? Thags dedication that’s everything. Him choosing his love over his passion? Which is badically the equivalent to his love? I can’t even. Landon the most annoying and unfeeling mother fucker? Chooses Mia over his passion? The best.

Don’t get me started on the running, primal kink anyone?

1. GOD OF FURRRYYYYY

Y’all saw this one coming, yall had to. My absolute favorite (though some scenes make no damn sense). It’s very dramatic, I eat up dramatic. I have a physical copy of it, gifted by a friend and I will be rereading that shit word for word.

Nikolai is my type. He’s green forest galore. He’s hedonistic and doesn’t care abt what anyone says, but still extremely caring and obsessive of those around him and he’s EXTREMELY PROTECTIVE of those he loves, (THAT GARETH SCENE GMFU). Thats just everything I want, plus he’s got big muscles and his fan cast is universally accepted as Mike Debeer. I love my well built, tattooed, muscled men.

Please, I want myself a Nikolai. He’s so loving, caring, obsessive, and funny. To others he’s got the cold sheer personality of a Doberman/Cane corso, but to his one and only, he’s a golden retriever.

PLUS PLUS HE KNOWS HOW TO FIGHT, DO YALL UNDERSTAND HOW HOT IT IS TO PLAY FIGHT? Manhandle me.

Lotus Flower best nickname, fucking FIGHT ME.

Also? Landon and Nikolai? HELLO? BEST PAIR? Canon Landon is best brother. Landon and Brandon best brothers.

[catubarca]

Jon Snow’s name

I have been thinking about this non-stop for the past few days and I really wanted to share my thoughts about Jon Snow’s name.

This idea is built around the R + L = J theory, which if you’re not familiar is the idea that Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark are Jon Snow’s parents.

In the show, as we all know, they named him Aegon, which I hope we can all agree is kind of dumb. Rhaegar already had a damn son named Aegon. I understand why the show writers made this decision, being a connection back to Aegon the Conquerer and his legacy in the Targaryen family – it’s a nice and circular connection.

It’s also boring as hell and completely expected, which is not what George R. R. Martin is about. He’s all about that symbolism; doing the unexpected; going against the grain of typical fantasy into something darker.

Based on this, I have an idea about what Jon Snow’s name could be - one that has some cool symbolic links between the Starks and Targaryens; one that links to some of Martin’s history about the world; and creates a connection between the two major works, GoT and HoTD.

Jon Snow’s name should be Jacaerys Targaryen.

Not only does this create a nice link between Martin’s works - probably his two best known works at this point - it has some other symbolic connections.

During the Dance of the Dragons, it was Jace and Vermax who went to Winterfell to confirm the alliance of the Stark family; it was Jace who allegedly made some kind of pact/bond before a Weirwood tree, recognising their religion and traditions.

And, if we remember one of the North’s favourite little phrases: the North remembers.

Wouldn’t it have been very in character for Lyanna, the She-Wolf, to live up to this phrase of her House, and remember the Targaryen/Targaryen representative who came to Winterfell in alliance, and honoured their religion? Who may have (allegedly) married Sara Snow? 

Kind of like... a pact of ... ice.... and .... fire?

Jace is also (legally, at least) the result of water and fire; Velaryon and Targaryen. Close, but not quite.

I think it’s probably also interesting considering it was Jace’s dragon, Vermax, that Mushroom claims laid a clutch of eggs at Winterfell. His tale is widely considered to be fake, of course, as Vermax is generally considered to be male, but it’s still an interesting connection.

A dragon who left eggs in Winterfell.

A dragon who left a legacy - a bloodline - in Winterfell.

Maybe not a literal story to be taken truthfully, but a literary device that could come to represent a dragon being left with the Starks, if Martin so choses to use it as such. He might not have written it to mean anything, of course, but it would be a fun detail if he wanted it to be.

And, of course, there is something satisfyingly circular about Jace and Jon’s stories, but in a less expected way than Aegon I and Aegon VI: two dark haired boys with Targaryen blood but the wrong surnames.

A bastard raised as a true heir.

A true heir raised as a bastard.

Let me know what y’all think of my idea :) there’s no actual telling what Martin might decide to name Jon if the books do confirm R + L = J, and I’m sure whatever he choses he will have carefully considered reasons for, but I think this is a fun option :) !

[tonightillbeonthathill]

Bruce Springsteen: "My pop saw in me too much of his real self. A mama’s boy, just like me. I decided between my father and me that the sum of our troubles would not be the summation of our lives together."

films7 on X/Twitter

Bruce Springsteen: “We honor our parents by not accepting as the final equation the most troubling characteristics of our relationship. I decided between my father and me that the sum of our troubles would not be the summation of our lives together. In analysis, you work to turn the ghosts that haunt you into ancestors who accompany you. That takes hard work and a lot of love, but it's the way we lessen the burdens our children have to carry.” (Born to Run, chapter 79)

Bruce Springsteen: "A few moments of feigned parental concern for my well-being followed by the real deal: the hostility and raw anger toward his son, the only other man in the house. It was a shame. He loved me but he couldn’t stand me. He felt we competed for my mother’s affections. We did. He also saw in me too much of his real self. My pop was built like a bull, always in work clothes; he was strong and physically formidable. Toward the end of his life, he fought back from death many times. Inside, however, beyond his rage, he harbored a gentleness, timidity, shyness and a dreamy insecurity. These were all the things I wore on the outside and the reflection of these qualities in his boy repelled him. It made him angry. It was “soft.” And he hated “soft.” Of course, he’d been brought up “soft.” A mama’s boy, just like me. One evening at the kitchen table, late in life, when he was not well, he told me a story of being pulled out of a fight he was having in the school yard. My grandmother had walked over from our house and dragged him home. He recounted his humiliation and said, eyes welling . . . “I was winning . . . I was winning.” He still didn’t understand he could not be risked. He was the one remaining, living child. My grandmother, confused, could not realize her untempered love was destroying the men she was raising. I told him I understood, that we had been raised by the same woman in some of the most formative years of our lives and suffered many of the same humiliations. However, back in the days when our relationship was at its most tempestuous, these things remained mysteries and created a legacy of pain and misunderstanding." (Born to Run, chapter 5: The Irish)

[spiribia]

Still the beginning of the Icebrood Saga was so rife with potential for me. I don’t personally see it as a tale of uniquely shitty parenthood, per se. rather it opens the gate for a potentially poignant exploration of familial structures or lineage in Norn and Charr culture and the ways those structures are built can result in sorrow for all parties involved. Icebrood Saga is a tragedy at the end of the day. Most people understand this about Rytlock having to kill his own son. The Norn emphasis on creating a legend and the carrying on of your parents’ legacy more directly in your surname - Braham, son of Eir, is Braham Eirsson. Charr don’t have surnames inherited from their parents. Their culture is much less dependent on nuclear family - charr parents are more hands off, and give their children up to the warband structure instead, where they are raised in groups with their peers by unrelated mentor figures instead. Charr have a broader community mindedness that Crecia is a reflection of, whereas Rytlock funnily enough reflects more the human values of individual attachment > community. In the story section where you are chasing Ryland with his parents through the storm and are intercepted by a huge ice elemental heading toward the valley, and Rytlock wants to just ignore it and blaze ahead out of concern for his adult son, and Crecia is adamant that it’s your responsibility to stop and take it down before it can proceed to harm everyone else’s cubs, even if it means risking her personal chase. Crecia’s last words to Ryland are incredibly harsh, but it isn’t like she’s unprovoked saying this to an innocent adult minor - this is coming off the back of him selfishly aligning with “charr are the one pure race” extremists & contributing to the deaths of an untold number of innocents. Charr also just kind of…talk like that, which doesn’t make it less violent, but also doesn’t make it as proportionally jarring a statement as it would if like humans were saying that stuff to each other. In her mind she should’ve killed him to prevent the loss of all those lives. But yes, also, young charr are taken from their parents and raised for war. I don’t see the issue as being they lack nuclear family – you see in Steel Warband how loving these familial structures can be. But this also leads to potentially abusive upbringings in the name of toughening kids up, which Ryland was a part of. I don’t even really care for the execution of all of this as is in game past a certain early stage of it, for the record. But you have Rytlock’s Sohothin, and you have Ryland’s flamesaw, a “Charr-made Sohothin”, which you can see both as an attempt to emulate and / or through the lens that he FORGED this himself with his own hands as he did with his name rather than having a relic of human power handed to him, something he’d disdain. And then you have Eir’s bow, which Braham inherited from his mom, as Braham with his name…and which Ryland steals from Braham after an evening of lowering his guard by relating to him. I really would’ve liked to see more about Braham’s dynamic with Ryland, considering they end up grappling each other for fifteen minutes on a field while 50 or so players bombard them with turtles at some crucial point of the story. But I digress. That’s not even touching on Norn and t

[cookinguptales]

OH right, Blue Beetle!

I really enjoyed it! I've been a fan of Jaime Reyes for a long time and I honestly never believed he'd get his own movie. And?? Such a good one???

I worried going into it that he looked too cool in the trailers. Is that weird to say? I loved dorky baby teenager Jaime when I was a kid. He felt like One Of Us, y'know? And then I watched the trailers and I was like "hmmmmmm."

But even though he's a bit older in this movie and has his shit together a little more, he's still very much Jaime Reyes at heart. 💙 Love that weird little dork of a man that always means so well, even if he doesn't always know what to do. And I found myself rooting for him so hard!

The movie was overall just really charming and fun and occasionally emotionally devastating. A good mixture of action, character relationships, humor, and politics, imo. The characters were so endearing, and I'm really looking forward to seeing how things develop going forward.

A few more thoughts (with spoilers) beneath the cut.

I was actually a little surprised by how sad parts of the movie were, but it felt right, too. The heart of the movie really was the simultaneous power of familial love and horror of family separation. Family separation really seemed to affect all the characters in their own ways, whether that was due to corporate greed, politics, war, racism, or just good-old-fashioned horrific US policy.

Like... You come to realize that it really permeated every part of the movie. Alberto's devotion to his family, the years he put into bringing them all to Palmera City. The very real fear that going to the cops would invite an unfair immigration investigation into their household. Jenny losing her parents at such a young age, and the sharp divide between her and her aunt. Jaime's family loss as well. Carapax's truly fucked-up backstory. Hell, even divisions being sown between Victoria Kord and her brother when her father gave the company to Ted instead of the person who'd built it.

(Don't get me wrong, Victoria Kord was truly evil, child soldiers and all. I was not rooting for her. But lbr, that doesn't seem to be why her equally war-mongering father cut her out of the company. You have to wonder if she would have done quite so much damage in the end if she hadn't felt such a virulent need to prove herself and destroy her brother's pacifistic legacy. But! Who knows? She might have been even worse if she'd had all that power from the beginning.)

And, y'know, all of the characters deal with the horror of family separation in different ways. Carapax became weaponized by an imperialistic power that didn't give one shit about him. Victoria became embittered, violent, and downright brutal. And Jaime could have gone the same way, so furious over the loss of his own family that he gave into wanton destruction as well -- but Khaji Da didn't let him. (WAILING.) Instead, he managed to take the same route as Jenny: transmuting his rage into a need for justice, into a passion for making the world better so no one else would lose their loved ones the same way.

Y'all, I was in there crying at a superhero movie!!! IT'S FINE, I'm FINE.

I heard that the creator of the movie hadn't actually initially intended for Alberto to die (which I understand, tbh) but I did think it was really beautiful the way it was incorporated into the movie. Bringing Mexican culture to the foreground yet again in its discussions about and attitudes toward death. God, those candles were beautiful. ;;

I mean -- as someone who literally dropped all of my DC subs the day they "fixed" Oracle and never gave DC another cent until this movie came out, I really am passionate about the need for diverse heroes. Part of the reason I felt like I was getting emotional in that theater was because I remembered how much Oracle meant to me as a young disabled teen who couldn't make sense of her trauma or her disability or her inherent power. I remember how much losing the only positive role model I had devastated me.

And like... I want kids with the same background as Jaime to see themselves in him. I want them to be able to feel the way I felt back then. Honestly, that was a lot of why I finally broke my boycott. I think characters like Jaime, while brilliant in their own right, are also important, and I want to support them.

So when I realized how raucously, joyously, passionately this movie was gonna depict Latino culture and its own diversity within the US, I was thrilled! And I cried lmao.

(What can I say, I've been kind of weepy lately lmao.)

But yeah, honestly I cheered in the theater when Khaji Da switched to Spanish. I was like YEAH GIRL.

Other times I was actively fangirling in the theater:

Nana Reyes gunning down imperialists

Ted Kord reveal(s)!!!

"Batman's a fascist. Blue Beetle knew how to have fun." :')

Khaji Da stopping Jaime from killing that man

Milagro and Rudy having no such compunctions

Dr. "Sanchez" standing up for himself and his name reveal (which is a very fun easter egg for WWDITS fans, lmao. I wasn't expecting it and I had to stifle a little shout of laughter.)

Honestly, as a former DC fan I really loved how much thought and care was put into incorporating the really messy canonical history of the Scarab. Obviously they deviated from existing canon, but in ways that I thought were really fun and interesting. I'm excited to see what happens with the Kords going forward, y'know? I hope that Jenny, too, isn't cut out of her own family legacy. I'd never want to separate Khaji Da and Jaime, obviously, but there has to be something for that woman to do to follow in her father's (secret) footsteps.

I realize that this review is kind of all over the place (like my mind the past few days), but I really, really enjoyed it. I was feeling pretty out of sorts the day I saw it and it really raised my spirits a lot. It turns out that after all these years, I still really love Jaime Reyes! And I love his family! And I love Jenny, too!

even dr. de la cruz a little bit, even if he sure did take his sweet time to find a backbone

The movie was just super fun (as well as unexpectedly thought-provoking) and I really enjoyed it!

[venomwrites]

You do such a good job at bringing CaitVi to life. Like... I'd trust you to write something fucking angsty and still do a great job.

Do you think in another universe Cait told Vi about her idea that Jinx is alive and Vi left her? I have this weird HC that Cait would tell her and also say that she'd understand but can't go because as Vi would always choose Jinx, she has an obligation, as a Kiramman and for the betterment of the city, that she can't go with her...

Thank you so much! I feel like my latest fic is such an angsty one. I don't know if I'm doing a great job but it's super fun to write (in a painful kind of way).

So I support your HCs, anon! For me personally I have trouble seeing any universe where events like this unfold and Vi leaves Caitlyn for Jinx. Two main reasons: growing up and legacy.

To me, Vi isn't fighting for Jinx. She's fighting for those two girls on the bridge crying for their mom. Both of them. If Jinx is okay, then all of Vi's sacrifice is worth it. It's not a fair thing to put on anyone (but also understandable given the circumstances). Part of growing up is leaving your childhood behind. I think at the end of the series, Jinx shows she has left that bridge. While I don't think she and Ekko had sex, I do think visually the story is telling us she's turning to her peers for comfort rather than a parental figure. She's further in the journey than Vi, but I think Vi also takes a big step off that bridge in choosing to do something she wants rather than run after Jinx when Jinx leaves. I think Vi and Jinx will both like go through the 5 stages of grief and then hopefully see each other as adults. It's like going from sharing a room/house with a sibling to being neighbors. If they are both alive, I think that's how it progresses.

Now in terms of legacy, Vi is the bearer of Vander's legacy. I think she will look to him as an example of moving from a violent past. Vander built a family, he chose a peaceful way to make his home better. He also took care of the girls who bore the consequences of his actions. He didn't run from them. I think looking at that legacy and taking it on for Vi will help her heal. Obviously as a Vi stan I would love to see her then grow past it, but I think initially she will look to Vander's choices as a blueprint for moving forward.

Now in terms of Caitlyn I 100% see her telling Vi her suspicions. Full stop. Her manipulation of Vi to being an Enforcer is horrible, but it happens at her worst point. She demonstrates she's learned from that. She knows this is a big deal for Vi. I could completely see them holding off on the romance part of things for a while and Caitlyn putting her family first, but more than that I see Vi again using Vander as a blueprint. I think she and Caitlyn will both heal by building a better world (and eventually a family) together.

[mischiefandmedicine]

Very Full - Chapter 6: Can't Fight the Moonlight

Summary: Melara discovers the truth about Loki's presence on her timeline.

Word Count: 3,668 words

Chapter Warnings: Angst

Soundtrack Link

Very Full MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter

----

A/N: I ended this chapter on a cliffhanger...sorry.

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

----

The silence between Loki and Saoirse lingered a moment longer, filled with the weight of unspoken histories and the echo of melodies that had, at one point, soared high enough to touch the stars.

She continued to think, her mind a battleground of emotions, a mix of reluctance and the need to understand. Shifting the focus, she looked up at Loki, the question forming like a note in the prelude to a song that she was not sure she wanted to hear. “Did you have any influence on that show she did a few weeks later? The one that she said had finally brought her into the spotlight?” Her words were hesitant but deliberate, pivoting away from the pain, seeking solace in a memory more befitting the resilience she knew her mother possessed.

Loki’s eyes soften, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, this time not of mischief, but of a shared memory that was a balm to wounds both old and new. “Melara’s talent needed no influence from me. Her voice, her spirit, it’s as if she had harnessed the essence of the very universe and set it free in song. The voice that had the power to traverse the stars and call me to her. That moment was hers, a testimony of her strength, her passion…her brilliance.”

His gaze drifted, lost for a moment in the memory of the melody that had once filled the night sky, resonating with the power to stir hearts and souls. “She was magnificent,” he whispered, almost to himself, as if he could still hear the lingering notes in the air around them.

Saoirse watched him, her heart a tumult of pride and a hint of sorrow for moments missed, for stories that she had only ever lived through the words of others. Her thoughts fluttered around the edges of her mother’s fame, the song that had been a beacon of hope, a symbol of triumph over adversities neither of them could have ever imagined.

Loki’s gaze returned to Saoirse, grounding, reassuring. “She shone by her own light, and the world saw her for the magnificent star she was.” His words were a gentle reminder of the legacy her mother had built – one of courage, of art, and of an indomitable will that was as much a part of Saoirse as it was of Melara.

Saoirse nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in Loki’s words. She knew her mother’s story was her own, but it was also entwined with the stories of those who loved her, of a god who had found a family, and of a daughter who was only just beginning to understand the vastness of the universe her parents had navigated. “Tell me more about that performance,” she asked, a softness in her voice, a readiness to embrace the stories that mad her who she was.

Loki’s face took on a wistful, faraway look, as of the memories were playing out before his eyes. “Ah, yes, that performance,” he said with a slight chuckle, “It was indeed a night to remember. But you should know, it was borne out of a disagreement between us – a rather fiery one at that.”

He shook his head as if dispelling the scene from his mind, his gaze returning to Saoirse. “We were both…passionate in our convictions, and that passion, well, it sparked something in Melara. It was as if the intensity of our argument fueled her creativity, her drive. In a way, the heat of our discord was transformed into the energy of her performance.”

Saoirse listened, a new understanding dawning in her eyes. “So, in a way, you did have a hand in it,” she teased gently, the ghost of a smile crossing her features.

Loki raised an eyebrow, conceding with a playful nod. “Perhaps. But it was all Melara. The fire was hers alone, and when she took to that stage, she was a force unto herself. The argument may have been the flint, but the resulting blaze was all her doing.”

Piercing Loki with a gaze that could have killed him where he sat, Saoirse fired off her next words in complete anguish, “So what did you do?”

***

The silence of Melara’s apartment was a canvas that reflected tranquility, moonlight filtering through the gauzy curtains and casting a gentle glow over the room. It was a welcome reprieve from the antiseptic glare of the hospital, the quiet a balm to weary spirits. Weeks had passed since her release, but the weight of her convalescence hung in the air, tangible and heavy.

On a simple chair beside her bed, a spectral figure sat motionless, a hazy projection of Loki, his presence both comforting and disquieting. It was as if he straddled realms, his image a mere whisper against the fabric of reality. In this private sanctum, he was both her guardian and a phantom, an echo of his promise to protect her, yet a reminder of the chaos he often brought.

Unknown to Melara, as she slept, Loki’s ethereal state mirrored his own vulnerability – a slumbering god on a distant throne, bound by the threads of time, not only to the multiverse but also to the woman whose life had become inexplicably linked with his own. His silent watch over her was more than duty; it was a silent vigil, a self-imposed penance for the shadows his presence had cast upon her life.

She would awaken each night in the hospital screaming, seemingly disturbed from incessant nightmares that she would not discuss with Loki or her mother should Evelyn decide to visit.

This night, however, was still, so much so that when Melara stirred, her breath seemed to ripple through the silence like a stone cast upon still waters. Her eyes, reflecting the struggle of her mind to reconcile the dream world with reality, snapped open to the sight of the ghostly figure. In a swift motion driven by fear, anger, and confusion, she seized a pillow and hurled it toward the apparition.

The pillow sailed through Loki’s form to thump against the chair, demonstrating his current intangibility. “Loki!” she screamed, her voice a sharp crack in the stillness, frustration and fear lending force to her call.

At her cry, the illusion shattered. Loki snapped to attention, his form solidifying instantly, every line of his face etched with concern. He was suddenly and intensely present, the mirage of his sleeping self at the end of time dispelled by her voice. His eyes met hers, the usual mirth gone, replaced by something deeper, more human.

“What in the ever-loving hell was that?!” Melara’s voice was thick with emotion, her question hanging between them, demanding an answer. “You were like a ghost! How did that happen?!”

Loki opened his mouth to respond, the words catching in his throat. His usual silver-tongue and quick responses failed him as the complexity of the truth – the realms he navigated, the burdens he bore – seemed too heavy to lay at her feet in this moment of raw vulnerability. The truth was, his corporeal form was exhausted from keeping watch of her, and he conserved energy while she slept, leaving a ghost-like apparition at her side as a window into her life.

“Melara,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “The realms between what you perceive as real and unreal are…complicated. My presence here is tethered by will and necessity, but not always by the physical laws you understand.”

Her eyes narrowed, a storm brewing within them as she cut him off before he could continue. “I understand just fine. What good is a promise to protect me if you aren’t even here? And where the fuck are you that your real self found so much more compelling to be?!”

She stood from the bed, her movements fueled by a cocktail of fear and fury, her fists clenched as if she were ready to fight the god before her. With each punctuated question, she stepped closer, her swings slicing through the air, an embodiment of her frustration and the betrayal she felt.

Loki, for all his power and poise, seemed to shrink slightly, the weight of her accusations pressing down on him. He caught her wrists gently, halting her assault, his apologetic gaze locked hers.

“Melara, I am here. As much as I can be. And I’m…real in ways that matter, in ways that allow me to stand guard over you just as I said I would,” he rubbed her shoulders as his own shoulders sank into his words. “But the truth is, I am also there, far beyond what you can see. I am bound to a throne at the end of time, watching over the tapestry of realities, ensuring that the chaos I once reveled in does not unravel the universe we know.”

Her breath hitched, her anger subsiding momentarily as she absorbed his words, the enormity of his confession. She pulled her hands free of his grasp, stepping back, the fight draining from her as she grappled with the revelation.

“Why?” she whispered, the single word laden with a thousand questions as she sat on the bed with a puzzled look on her face.

Loki’s expression softened, and he reached out, his hand hesitating in the air before settling on her shoulder.

“Because your world, your safety, it’s become my anchor, ‘Lara. And I will do everything within my power, within all the realms of existence, to ensure your future is one free of the nightmares I’ve brought to your door.”

“How could you possibly know that my nightmares are about you?” Melara whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

Loki, momentarily taken aback by the raw emotion in Melara’s eyes, searched for the words to explain a truth that was as complex as the threads of fate he so often manipulated. His voice, when he spoke, was laced with a hint of his own turmoil, a rare glimpse into the vulnerability he seldom showed.

“Melara,” he started, his voice low, the words coming with an effort as if pulled from the depths of his being, “the nightmares…I sense them because, somehow, our fates are entwined. From the moment I first heard your voice call out in the emptiness of the multiverse, your pain echoes through the bond between us.”

He reached out, an instinct to comfort, but stopped short, sitting next to her on the bed, knowing physical reassurance was not what she sought. Melara, her anger unabated, continued to question him, her voice rising with each word.

“And I repeat my question, Loki. What good is a promise if you’re not truly here?” she demanded, her hands balling into fists as she rose from the bed, her movements fueled by a mix of betrayal and desperation. “How is it that you’re nothing but a wraith in my room?”

“Melara, please,” he implored, his usual composure fraying at the edges. “I am here, but not in the way you need me to be. I am…tethered to my duties.”

“Loki, you vowed to tear the universe apart to protect me,” she hissed. “You can’t do that as an echo of yourself. How can you keep your promise if you’re just a shadow to me?” The storm within her eyes grew as she held Loki’s gaze.

“I am trying to be what I promised, Melara,” his eyes held hers, the green of them stark against the moonlit room, bearing a sincerity that she had come to recognize in him. “But some things, even for me, are beyond control. I am fighting battles on many fronts, all to ensure your safety, to preserve the future that you deserve.”

He knew his words were but cold comfort, yet they were all he could offer – a truth laid bare, a heart exposed, and a promise that he was desperately trying to keep.

Melara searched his eyes, hoping to find a glimmer of the truth within them. In the stillness of Melara’s apartment, Loki met her tear-filled gaze with a depth of emotion that seemed to reach beyond the confines of the room. His voice, though steady, carried an undercurrent of conflict. “You speak of battles and futures,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, “but what of now, Loki? What of the reality we share in this moment?”

Loki’s gaze did not waver, though the hint of an ancient sorrow seemed to trace the lines of his features. “Even gods are bound by the rules they did not write,” he admitted. “In my efforts to protect you, to weave a shield around your life, I must navigate the labyrinth of cosmic wards. Yet know this, Melara, every strand I pull, every move I make, is to fortify you in this world, to prevent the nightmares that haunt you from becoming more than just phantoms of sleep.”

The silent space between them grew heavy with unspoken fears and unasked questions. Melara’s voice trembled as she pressed on, her words a challenge to the god before her. “And if I had offered you my heart, Loki, what then? Would the shadows of your existence devour it, or would you have been my solace? Would you have then tricked me into offering myself to an echo?”

Loki’s expression softened, a hand reaching out as if to bridge the gap between possibilities and regrets. He thought of the last person he had given his heart to and of the disastrous results that followed. How he had sacrificed himself to a throne at the end of time to save himself from the option of killing the woman he loved to save the timelines. “In every realm, in every possible version of our story, know that my actions are driven by the desire to see you safe, to see you thrive. If you had offered me your heart, Melara, it would have been the most sacred of gifts, one I would protect with every fiber of my being. I am here, with you, in every way that counts, and I will not let you face the darkness alone.”

Her eyes locked onto his, searching for the promise of dawn in the twilight of his assurances. In the quiet that followed, the truth of their connection – a bond formed not just in the specter of protection but the reality of shared moments – seemed to crystallize, as tangible as the moonlight that enveloped him.

In the quiet of her apartment, Melara’s emotions crested like a wave as she faced the enigmatic figure of Loki. With a heart aching for connection, for the reassurance of touch and the warmth of presence, she leaned forward, driven by a tumult of feelings that demanded to be felt, to be acknowledged.

Melara’s breath hitched, a tightrope walker on the edge of a precipice, as she reached for Loki, her hands trembling with a storm of emotions. She pressed her lips to his with a ferocity born of desperation, a silent plea etched into the gesture. But the chill of the room seeped into her bones, a cruel echo of the emptiness she felt, her lips pressing against nothing but the memory of his presence. The cold void that met her lips was a stark, harrowing reminder of his true intangibility – a projection, a phantasm, a beautifully woven illusion that could not return her warmth, could not reciprocate her yearning.

A sob tore from her chest as the reality of his absence settled like frost upon her soul. The floor met her knees with a cold embrace as she crumbled at his feet, her body wracked with the sobs that echoed off the walls of her silent sanctuary. The tears that streamed down her face were the only warmth in the cold tableau, the only testament to the raw, unguarded moment shared with a phantom protector who was both everything and nothing.

In this moment, Melara’s grief was a palpable thing, a creature of shadows born from the bittersweet dance between love and despair, presence and absence, a god’s promise and a mortal’s hope. It was a cry not for what was lost, but for a fantasy that could not be realized.

Melara’s tears dried under the fire of her rising anger, replaced by a glaring strength that held back the night. She straightened, her stance firm and unwavering as if she could command the very shadows that danced at Loki’s edges. Her eyes, two flints ready to strike, met his gaze with an intensity that demanded an answer for the silent question that had haunted every look, every touch, every promise unspoken.

“Why me, Loki?” she asked, her voice a blend of wrath and wonder, a demand for the truth that she was owed. It was more than a question; it was an accusation, a challenge, a plea for a reason she could grasp, a piece of the perplexing puzzle that was Loki – god, trickster, and the most enigmatic presence in her life.

Loki, once the master of tricks, now found himself uncharacteristically bare, stripped of subterfuge under the weight of her gaze, even across the distances that were actually between them. The silence became a canvas for his confession.

Her question reverberated, striking a chord deep within Loki, resonating with a familiar pain. In her eyes, he saw the reflection of his own anguished self, the young god standing before Odin, the revelation of his true heritage like a chasm opening beneath him. It was a memory that lived in his sinews, an ever-present specter of his own questions, his own doubts about his place in the tapestry of fate.

His composure, always so carefully curated, began to crumble like the walls of a long-standing fortress under siege. The cool façade of the god of mischief, the self-reassured trickster, the playful enchanter, now dutiful god of stories, all of it fell away, leaving behind the raw visage of a being grappling with his own identity, his own worth. He had thought he had found his glorious purpose on the throne at the end of time, but in just two words, this woman had pulled him apart at the seams.

Loki’s eyes, those windows to a soul that had traversed realms and ages, that had seen the birth and death of stars, now held a shimmering vulnerability. His voice, when it came, was a mere whisper, laden with the gravity of a black hole of a thousand confessions.

“Because…because you saw me,” he admitted, the words escaping like prisoners long-held in the depths of his heart. “Not as a god, not as a monster…but as Loki. Just Loki. You knew me yet somehow called out across the universe to me.”

The vulnerability was alien on his tongue, a truth he had never allowed himself to acknowledge, a burden he had borne in silent solitude as he had watched over her night after night. Even on the nights in the hospital when she had allowed him to cradle her, showing her own vulnerability, he did not dare speak a word to her about how she had made him feel. Her question had cut through the labyrinth of his existence, past the mischief, past the illusions, to the core of who he was – a being who had longed for acceptance, for a place to belong, for a connection that transcended realms and titles.

And he had betrayed her trust. A lie of omission.

In the tremble of his lips, the unsteady breath that followed, Loki stood before Melara not as a figure of myth, but as a being touched by the same fears, the same desires, the same need for meaning in the chaos of existence. It was a moment of unguarded honesty that would forever alter the fabric of their intertwined stories.

Loki’s fall was silent, a descent from deity to supplicant in mere seconds. His knees met the ground with the soft thud of a heart yielding to humility. Head bowed, his form was a study in penance, a god brought low not by the might of foes but by the gravity of his own conscience. The room was thick with the tension of revelation, the air itself holding its breath as the god of stories awaited judgment from the one whose story in which he had become so entangled.

Melara watched the fallen figure, her eyes tracing the lines of his silhouette in the moonlight, seeing past the projection to the essence of the being it represented. Her response was not a balm to soothe but a directive, born of a desire to confront the truth in its purest form.

“Take me to him,” she said, her voice a command that brokered no argument, a plea wrapped in the steel of determination. In those four words, she sought not just the presence of Loki, but an audience with the core of his being, a confrontation with the architect of her turmoil.

For Loki, her words were an ultimatum, a gauntlet thrown at the feet of his projected self. To bring her to him – the core of his existence, the throne at the end of time encapsulated by the Yggdrasil-shaped timelines – was to peel back the final layer of mystery, to expose the heart of his realm and, in doing so, to expose his own heart, laid bare and vulnerable to her mortal gaze. It was a risk, a potential unraveling of the threads he had so meticulously woven, yet in her command, there was also the possibility of redemption, of healing the schism his absence had wrought.

His projection, a mere echo of his presence, flickered with the weight of her request. It was the crossroads of fate, a moment where the path they would take would hinge upon the choice of a god who had always danced on the edge of chaos and order. The question remained, hanging in the air like the echo of a divine whisper: would he take her to him, to the gilded throne at the end of time?

---

Tags: @mischief2sarawr

[biitchyberry]

I have alot of Tommy thoughts and headcanons so I’m gonna give a brief summary 1 by 1 and y’all can tell me what y’all think 😤

1: the blown up school accident happened because mephisto was able to take over Tommy’s body. In my head, Tommy was always able to fight him off but something happened/things built off that for a brief second his guard was broken and mephisto took control

2: didn’t talk much at all as a child-teen.

3: got into a lot of fights but it was always to defend someone.

4: feminist king. I don’t like when fics portray him as a cruel fuckboy. I hc that his father was very misogynistic and homophobic, so he makes it a point to never act the way frank did.

5: holds the anonymous top player spot for practically every game because of his reaction time. Do not challenge this boy to a rhythm game. Even co op shooter games and dungeon games are too slow for him.

6: can speak and understand a lot of languages, including ancient ones. He reads a lot and memorizes everything he sees.

7: was born with white hair, eyelashes, and eyebrows. Because of his powers he developed faster than other infants and kids, but he also creeped his parents out because he seemed to be able to understand or see through them.

8: relating to 1 and 7, his soul along with Billy’s, is partially demonic and partially divine. I feel like this should’ve been the first one I wrote down. Anyways.

9: can sometimes have seizures or episodes where he loses control of his body and goes through something similar to Tourette’s episodes. As a kid he would run around to avoid hurting anyone, but now Pietro and Northstar are able to hold him until he regains control.

10: even though he always had super speed and was aware of it, he never left his abusive home or his foster siblings. He didn’t want to abandon his mother, even if she was abusive as well, or his foster siblings when he was moved from home to home. He didn’t want to abandon Lisa as well.

11: his mother sold him to the organization that experimented on him, and they effectively made it seem that he never existed in government records.

12: finding out that the avengers knew about him, and all the other kids in the facility, completely broke his trust in them. He also tried not to resent the YA for the way they treated him (and continue to treat him tbh) but he always shows up for them.

13: hates the concept of being a legacy because he already suffered as a kid because of his NJ parents. He always got dragged into their problems and debts and it was a thankless job taking care of them so he doesn’t want to be burdened or held down just because of his family name. But he still cares so much for his Maximoff family and always shows up, and is slowly learning to feel pride in his House and accepting the responsibility of family.

[anti-katsuki-lounge]

Missed Potential in MHA - the underrated members of the League of Villians - specifically Kurogiri, Twice, Mr Compress and Spinner.)

These four specifically are the most redeemable out of the main LOV but they have a lot of missed potential.

Kurogiri

The poor guy became a plot device for Aizawa post his reveal as Shirakumo's corpse when we could have got so much interesting lore / insight into what he feels as an 'intelligent Nomu.'

Canonically, I know he's made from a corpse but this guy in the early seasons with Shigaraki especially seemed to have a personality. Seemed to genuinely care for Shigaraki too.

Why did Hori throw all that out the window to focus on how sad Aizawa was about Shirakumo?

Why can't we have more lore on what makes a Nomu? On what separates a normal Nomu from an intelligent one especially because these guys aren't acting like mindless corpses anymore HORI!

Also Kurogiri's powerlevels have been nerfed so so much it's annoying - you mean to tell me Gran Torino is fast enough to capture him when Kurogiri can teleport? Come on Hori! BS!

Twice

A great character. Honestly love him, he's so sweet and I wish we got more on him because poor guy seemed to have a genuinely good heart but circumstances (poverty, mental illness and an unjustly given criminal record) pushed him into villiany. If any of the LOV he seems more like a villain foil to Uraraka than Toga with the similar poverty side of things... (he seems like what she could have been without her parents support.) It really angered me to see him be shafted so bad post War Arc.

But with how MHA has gone since part of me is kind of glad his story finished there.

Mr Compress

Again a character with a cool concept but Hori never follows through. He's meant to be this Robin Hood-esque villain, to my understanding, who is following in a villianous legacy of stealing from corrupt heroes but... When have we ever seen him do that? And after the War Arc this guy has been shafted so bad he may as well have died with Twice.

Spinner

Holy crap Spinner... Spinner got it bad! First he began as an obsessive fanboy of Stain which is fine, his whole original story is that he was directionless in life and looking for someone to follow - first that was Stain, now that's Shigaraki who he cares for which again fine.

But Hori shoehorns in the mutant discrimination for him when that has never been built up - it comes across extremely forced!

Also he and none of the others have an issue with the Nomu's or using them when they are canonically puppeted people. They also have no issue with committing various acts of terrorism which works against their redeemability.

However it would still be easier to redeem any of these four rather than the main 3 Hori is pushing to redeem IMO (Dabi, Toga and Shiggy.)

All of this. I will say I think Twice is the best written part of MHA tho. However all the other villains you’ve mentioned definitely were an afterthought despite having ties to several of the core themes in the series