#or they try to seek redemption and are killed for trying to change

[iamnmbr3]

Honestly, It’s shocking that Draco is the one where Rowling and some of the fandom insists is completely horrible and not really sympathetic when he’s got more work and meaning put into it than every other reformed antagonists/bully.

outside of Dudley, and maybe Regulus, He’s the only one who was taught to act that way.

He’s the only one who reformed without asking for anything in return, nor wanted revenge, and was completely selfless. Draco was fully expecting to be disowned at best, tortured/killed at worst if he did it, without receiving any sort of gifts.

Every single other character (Dudley, James, Sirius, Snape though it later became guilt) did it in context of being rewarded or wanting revenge. If there were zero rewards or revenge involved, Draco is the only one who would stop being a bully.

James was rewarded for his bullying behavior. He got Lily and Snape to stop being friends like he wanted and he eventually married Lily. Plus he and the rest of the marauders joined the order. Dudley did it because Harry saved him and His mother praised him for it. Snape wanted Lily safe. Regulus wanted revenge. Sirius was friends with James and Andromeda got together with Ted Tonks.

But Draco? We have none of that selfish nonsense, He’s the only one who did it because he realized that his behavior was wrong and he was actively punished each time he tried being nice. Even when he supported Voldemort, He didn’t actively seek Voldemort out, Voldemort was the one who went to him and ordered/threatened him.

That’s what makes Draco better than the others. The fandom may insist the others are better, but they aren’t better at all. If they were, instead of only doing it because they get something out of it, They would be more like Draco and do it just because it’s right like Draco did.

Yes it's very odd. JKR says that Draco is irredeemable. But she wrote him a redemption arc. And the supplemental material that she herself revealed in the context of writing a condescending post saying fans who think he is redeemed are wrong and stupid...further confirms that his change of heart was genuine. Because she says that after the war he not only didn't revert to his old ways but didn't marry who his parents wanted him to and raised his child without the bigoted views he was taught (even though his parents were upset about this and it strained their relationship) and also kept a glass case of artifacts to look at and never touch, apparently as a sort of reminder to himself of his past. So this wasn't a case of him just trying to pass as respectable while actually still harboring bigoted beliefs behind closed doors. He really changed. And during the books he also risked his life to protect Harry.

I don't understand why JKR wrote all this if she didn't want readers to pick up on it. But she did. And she frames him as unredeemed which is part of why the fandom reacts to him differently than to Regulus or Snape or even Dudley who all are frame in-narrative as having redemption arcs.

Good thing canon is fake and Draco is redeemed and living happily ever after and married to Harry. (oh wait. all that is basically canon).

[lotus-pear]

It is me once again, younger than you person and also fanfic person.

Who is your favorite character ever?

(I have two from books I've read- Jude Duarte and Percy Jackson) (I think thats how you spell her name)

i have multiple fanfic people ur gonna have to be more specific anon aaa sry😭

top characters of all time would have to be bertholdt hoover aot and greedling fmab.. can you tell i like misunderstood villains doomed by the narrative?

[umboloae]

My new and hopefully final Bill design!! I made him easier to draw in comic style, still pretty, but with more recognizable shapes and traits (seriously, try drawing a generic white boy more than 5 times in a row, it's difficult)

Some notes on my stylistic choices and backstory for the designs:

First one on top: Just regular "young" Bill, this is him after betraying Ford (only thing that changed after he did was the sharp teeth, since he used normal ones to appear more harmless)

Second one to the right: Weirdmaggedon Bill. He took this form to manipulate Ford, it didn't work, all he got was a kiss (my first comic) and then he was killed by his brother (there will be a comic on that soon!!)

Third one on the left: Bill in theraprism. Now he got this glitchy scar, that starts on his face but runs through his whole body. He still uses his human form most of the time since he says he's waiting for Ford to visit. Ford never will, he doesn't even know Bill's alive. Bill uses a headband to keep his hair from falling on his face while he draws. And he doesn't have his earrings on bc no sharp objects allowed (let's be honest, he would stab it in someone's eye's)

And last one on the bottom: Bill after theraprism, and seeking redemption while working in the mystery shack. Not gonna elaborate on him too much bc he's gonna be featured in my future comics, but just know that he's 100% human and that his yellow eye is a prosthetic eye.

[pannman]

What's on your mind

Alastor x telepathic reader

Tw: dark thoughts, mentions of violence, depressed thoughts, angst, overstimulation

You knew it was a bit risky to show up to a new place hoping for salvation. But in Hell you were given a secret gift... it was more like a curse. You heard people's thoughts. Whether you wanted to or not. And being surrounded by all the worst kinds of people and hearing the horrible and nasty things that plagued their minds had turned you antisocial. You rarely exited your apartment.

The plants were your only friends. But one eviction notice from your pervy landlord and you were out on the streets again. He had tripled your rent almost overnight after you rejected him. You trailed through the busy street hearing all the the unholy thoughts of others and you began to get overstimulated. The voices of a thousand sinners filled your head with their dark thoughts and you covered your ears in instinct even though you knew it would do no good

*I want to kill that bastard with his own car*

*I'll slip something skimpy on and while he's cock drunk I'll steal his wallet and then slice his throat*

*I hate myself. I cannot keep doing this. I'm a monster. I deserve to be here. I need to find some drugs. I can't deal with this sober. Fuck my life! I wish death was really the end*

*Steal. Steal. Steal. I want that. I need that! I'll just wait until that guy leaves his store and I'll break the window and take it. I'll stab anyone who gets in my way. I must have it! Steal! STEAL!*

Suddenly you were brought out of your emotional spiral by the tv in the window next to you. "And there you have it. The new and improved Hazbin Hotel is now officially open for business! The princess of hell is now again accepting patrons for her little pet project she calls redemption. I don't know about any of you. But I think she's wasting her fucking time. But she did save hell and her precious daddy gave us a lot of money so here you go. Check out the Hazbin Hotel and check in to start your journey to the gates of Heaven today! Is that good enough? What do you mean the cameras are still on?"

Even though you weren't 100% sure you believed it was possible, the idea of getting out of hell was far too tempting. And you needed somewhere to stay anyway. You rang the doorbell expecting the princess of hell to answer only to see the door opened by a tall well dressed but creepy looking gentleman. You recognized him quickly. He was an overlord named Alastor or also known as the Radio Demon. You didn't know he was going to be there but you tried to pretend like you weren't in shock

"Hello, my name is y/n. I'm here to-" suddenly Alastor swept you away and guided you inside with a hand on your lower back. "Of course my dear! I'm Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you quite a pleasure! Do come in" His thoughts peirced into your brain with a sharp pain and a sound of static

*yet another fool seeking redemption. Or perhaps a sinner with some ulterior motive. I'm sure they won't last long. But it'll be such fun playing with them*

You were unsettled by his thoughts and proceeded to grow more uncomfortable with his touch. You were beginning to change your mind when the hostess of the hotel, the princess herself finally showed. "Oh my gosh! Are you here to join the hotel?" She looked so excited that she looked as if she'd explode any minute

*I hope Alastor doesn't scare this one away as well. He can be so intimidating. I just wanna help them but they never stick around.*

Realizing the princess had genuine intentions unlike anyone you've encountered here, you felt more inclined to stay. The tension in your shoulders began to relax. "Yeah, I'd like to give it a try at least" You answered. "That's great! I'm Charlie! Of course you've met Alastor..."

Once again you were mentally attacked by Alastors thoughts for some reason. You've never felt actual pain from your telepathy before

*Another sucker here to try and fail like the others. This will be fun to watch*

Charlie seemed to notice your distress. "Are you ok?" She asked. You rubbed your temples and tried to drown out the pain. "Yeah, I... I just get headaches sometimes. It's nothing to worry about" you lied.

Charlie introduced you to the rest of the hotel who seemed much less enthusiastic about your arrival. It was very clear they weren't too confident in you sticking around. Their thoughts gave away their true situation. People must have been coming and going ever since they reopened. But still, it was a place to stay. For free. And at least one nice person was there. You liked Charlie. It was a breath of fresh air to hear thoughts that 1. Weren't horrible and 2. Matched the energy and vibe of the person. She was kind and real. That made you believe it couldn't be all bad

But then Alastor of all people offered to show you to your room. You glanced a look of worry at Charlie who was completely distracted and oblivious while talking away to her girlfriend about how excited she was about a new sinner entering the hotel

He chatted away with you the entire way. "So tell me, what makes you so interested in this place? I am rather curious"

*What are their true motivations?*

You responded. "I lost my apartment and I was at a low place. I saw an advertisement on TV and figured what else have I got to loose" you weren't exactly lying. Just leaving out the fact that you can read minds or more that they read themselves to you without your consent. "Oh trust me you still have plenty. You've got your soul and your life. Those things have at least SOME value. Either way, there is no place quite as beautiful and desperate as rock bottom. Yes?"

*I wonder if they can get any lower?*

You were beginning to become better at hiding the migraines Alastor's thoughts were giving you but you were growing exhausted from fighting it. It was like being around him drained you. You grew more tired by the minute. "Yeah I guess so..."

"You must've had a long day. I imagine it's been overwhelming for you. But do not worry. Our beds are quite comfy" he reassured you.

*Comfier than a coffin of course*

You laughed...

"What is so funny?" He asked tilting his head in curiosity as the two of you stopped at your room door. "Uhh. Nothing I just remembered something funny" you lied. "Oh do tell!" He replied. Shit...

"it was really dumb you wouldn't like it" you tried to lie your way out of this. "Oh and you think you know me so well already?" He responded

*I don't know what's up with this sinner but they are definitely hiding something*

Oh no... quick think of something funny. "So I saw this... guy and he... fell out of a window... into... a coffin! And... he fell asleep in it... I don't know why, I just thought it was funny" You felt your heart racing in you chest. Alastor stared at you with scrutiny before smiling wide. "You're right that is quite dumb. But I suppose everyone's humor is different. Anyway, here is your room. Please let me know if there's any way I could make your stay more comfortable." He bought it?

"Yeah... I'll keep that in mind. Thank you" you began to close the door. "One more thing..." He said as you stopped. "Yes?" His thoughts peirced your mind louder than ever before as if he was speaking to you on purpose. The static now making his voice sound straight up demonic. You clutched your head barely being able to withstand the pain

*How long have you been able to read my mind?*

[puzzling-reeds]

I know this has been talked to death in the Yu-Gi-Oh 5D's community, but....

This is gonna have spoilers for this almost 20-year-old show. You've been warned. This analysis is also long. I would say I'm sorry, but I'm a heathen who doesn't know what word counts are.

Early-days Jack x Carly is legitimately so cute. Perfect? Nah. But pretty dang good as far as Yu-Gi-Oh romances go.

Briefly recapping: After losing (again) to Yuusei, Jack's ego is obliterated, and he starts to question his past choices. He betrayed his closest friends chasing a life that wound up being so transient, and by the time he meets Carly, Jack's regret over those decisions is at its highest.

As a journalist, Carly has her own reasons for entering Jack's orbit, but she comes to realize he's not as self-absorbed as she initially thought he was. Carly herself is a foil to the old Jack. She's driven in her work but describes herself as someone who finds joy in the success of others. She's a lot closer to Yuusei in that way, as she's willing to put aside her own interests (e.g., getting the scoop on Jack being from Satellite) for the sake of other people (e.g., having a moment of human connection with Jack when he's at his lowest).

In the end, she offers him some advice. She doesn't try to appeal to his ego and instead states that Jack is capable of redemption. He should abandon his past conception of what it means to be a king and instead try to be a "real king," someone who "brings joy to everyone."

After this conversation, Jack resolves to be a better person and leaves with more clarity on who he wants to be, symbolized by him leaving behind his fake glasses at the end. Jack and Carly part with mutual respect and a broader perspective of one another. Even later heading into the Dark Signers arc, Jack expresses worry for Carly despite his secretiveness about the signers, telling her to be careful.

And then Carly

Dies.

Her last thought is of Jack and regretting she couldn't be with him again. That regret allows her to be reborn as a dark signer, and she and Jack rocket toward an eventual clash. Her dream of being together with Jack is corrupted to such a degree that she's willing to embrace the apocalypse and rule over the ashes with Jack. Obviously, this dream contradicts Jack's new character, and he knows the real Carly would feel the same.

Their conversation inspired such a fundamental change in Jack that he's only willing to kill her if he dies with her. Moreover, Carly is presented as Jack's better half. While Jack abandoned the glasses of his earlier disguise from the park, he holds onto Carly's glasses that she lost when she died. He clings to his memory of her and--to a greater degree--her values of compassion and vicarious joy.

Before Jack can activate his trap that'll kill them both, though, Carly activates her own trap that kills her alone. In the moments leading up to her death, we get more insight into Carly's worldview.

Carly's dying wish was to be with Jack, and she's now wracked with guilt for having desired her own happiness that wasn't contingent on the happiness of others. This is Carly's internal philosophy: She is only deserving of secondhand happiness. Obviously, this is an incorrect mindset. If seeking your own happiness is wrong, then no one would ever be happy. Jack makes this point in his following comment. Notably, Jack's point doesn't entirely sink in for Carly before she dies. She continues to view her happiness as subservient to others', adopting a bystander/cheerleader role.

Still, before she dies, Carly finally confesses that she loves Jack. They're able to be together briefly like she wanted before she disappears, leaving behind only her glasses that Jack's kept with him this whole time.

Jack also confesses his own love for Carly and later reiterates that love during his duel with Godwin.

CHARACTER ANALYSIS

Although they don't have too many conversations together, we get enough insight into Carly and Jack's individual viewpoints on life throughout season two. Since both Yuusei and Carly are foils to Jack, I think it's worth defining how their positions differ.

Jack and Yuusei are foils regarding their ideas of bonds.

Yuusei, through his duels with Kiryuu in the Dark Signers arc, realizes that he has an extreme view of bonds. He was willing to give himself up to the police for Kiryuu, taking credit for his mistakes, and that backfired on Yuusei tremendously. In short, Yuusei's fatal flaw is that he is too self-sacrificing. It's important to note that Yuusei's flaw is apparent during their Team Satisfaction days--before Jack's betrayal. Jack's actions serve to solidify Yuusei's self-sacrificial view rather than create it.

Jack is on the other extreme. Jack is willing to sacrifice everything to achieve his dreams, but after losing to Yuusei twice, Jack starts to see the fault in that logic. His dreams were shallow without friends to share them with. It's only upon talking with Carly that Jack formally resolves to do right by others from then on. He expresses to Godwin that Carly showed him that bonds are inescapable, and during his earlier duel with Carly, Jack is willing to sacrifice himself to be together with her in death--a choice he never would've made before meeting her.

In these ways, both Yuusei and Jack are on opposing sides of this debate, and other characters motivate them to remedy their flawed positions.

Jack and Carly, however, are foils regarding their ideas of happiness.

From her final conversation with Jack in the Dark Signers arc, we learn that Carly is hesitant to pursue happiness for herself, considering it selfish to do so. She celebrates the happiness and successes of others and must learn that it is OK to seek that same happiness for herself. Jack calls her out on this warped perspective at the end, arguing that everyone would be selfish if her viewpoint were reality.

Jack, on the other hand, is originally dismissive of the happiness of other people. He betrays his closest friends in order to leave the Satellite and openly mocks Yuusei when they finally meet again in episodes three and four; he feels no sense of obligation toward the well being of his friends. Carly encourages Jack to be the kind of king that "brings joy to everyone," injecting her own opinion that it is possible to find happiness in the happiness of others.

Another way Jack and Carly impact each other is through how active they are in their own lives. Although Jack is duped by Godwin, he is an active player and wants to view himself as such. He's openly upset at himself for falling for Godwin's appeals to his ego, calling himself a clown for doing so, and strives to take charge of his own destiny.

Carly, conversely, remains an observer in her own life. She is active in her career, yes, but her motivation to become a journalist is grounded in her desire to highlight and celebrate the achievements of others, not due to any personal ambition like Jack. This passiveness is further clarified by Carly and Jack's relationships with destiny. Carly frequently uses her deck as a horoscope, and Misty foretells that Carly will die. Even after Carly becomes a dark signer, Carly proclaims that she and Jack are connected by fate.

During their duel in the Dark Signers arc, Carly's dark signer voice presents itself as an extreme version of this belief: What Carly wants doesn't matter, as she has no autonomy in the face of destiny.

On the other side, Jack is the philosophical opposition. He backs Carly into a corner with his card aptly called "Change Destiny." He says that Carly inspired him to take control of his own life and encourages her to do the same with his "Change Destiny" trap. Carly has to choose whether or not to kill Jack (securing the victory she apparently wants as a dark signer) or benignly restore her own life points. She ultimately chooses the latter, proving Jack's point and his faith in her.

Even when he decides he'd rather die with Carly, Jack frames it to himself as a destiny he's chosen. He wants to go out on his own terms, not as a puppet of fate. In the end, Carly decides the same, saving Jack and encouraging him to save the world.

In these ways, both Carly and Jack's conflicting views push them toward moderating their perspectives. Their contrasting ideas of personal fulfillment and destiny make Carly and Jack's relationship rich for exploration, especially seeing as Carly still has room to grow by the time she dies at the end of the Dark Signers arc. What does her taking control of her own life look like after her revival? Does she pursue her own definition of happiness, and what does personal happiness mean to her?

So, what does happen after the Dark Signers arc?

Carly comes back to life but doesn't remember any of the Dark Signers arc. Occasionally, she feeds Jack convenient plot info or helps him out, but mainly, Carly pines comically for Jack, who wants nothing to do with her all the way through the series finale. :/

WHERE WAS THE "I WAS CHANGED BY THE LOVE OF A WOMAN" ENERGY???? WHERE WAS IT???? DID NONE OF IT MATTER????

Maybe the true clowns were the ones we became along the way.

Jokes aside, we all know this was a missed opportunity. But what could the writers have done?

My Clown Fanon Takes

Frankly, I don't think they would've had to have changed too much. Let Carly keep her memories. Let her and Jack be a couple. They can do cute cameos in the background together or a filler episode or two exploring their relationship while Carly follows leads and Jack duels. But most importantly,

Make 👏 Jack 👏 a simp!

And by simp, I don't mean pathetic. I mean have him actually treat Carly right. Jack has a rough-and-tumble nobility about him, so go the chivalrous route. I'm talking "girlfriend's heels are killing her after scoping out a gala for leads so you lend her your big man shoes and hold her stilettos" type chivalry. I don't say this because I think it'd be cute (as much as it would be), but because I think it's a natural extension of the relationship they already had.

Carly struggles to accept happiness for herself. Jack is learning to find joy in the happiness of others. It'd be fitting to have Jack sacrifice in small, healthy ways because it shows that he cares for Carly and that seeing her happy makes him happy by extension. Carly would obviously still show up to Jack's tournaments, cheer him on, and help him when he was hospitalized during the World Racing Grand Prix, keeping a good give-and-take balance in the relationship.

Similarly, the second point of exploration for Carly's character was ambition. In the beginning of season two, we see that her professional life is in shambles. Her boss sucks. She lives in her car. Keep her as a journalist, but have her pursue a different job. The WRGP is an international tournament, so perhaps expose Carly to global reporting while being at the tournament. Maybe she'd like to work on international projects?

That being considered, how would Carly's revelation impact Jack? By the end of canon, Jack decides to pursue a career in the Ride Ace Dueling league because they send him an invite. Instead, have Carly mention that she'd like to do more global work and give Jack a moment to consider what he'd like from their relationship and what he'd like to do going forward. Ultimately, Jack would be the one to apply for the Ride Ace league so that he can participate in global matches and follow Carly. It'd still be in his wheelhouse (i.e., working his way up from the bottom of a new league to be the king again), but more importantly, it'd be a choice that's in support of Carly rather than Jack's typical moves characterized by his own ambition. Not only would that solidify their devotion by the end of the series, but it would reflect a lot of growth on the part of both Carly and Jack: Carly has taken the reins of her own life and learned to accept joy for herself, and Jack has learned to weigh his own dreams and the dreams of others, finding happiness in supporting the people he cares about without sacrificing his own wants and needs.

Anyway, I fear I've gone on for too long. What are your Jack x Carly thoughts? How would you have carried their relationship into later seasons?

Thanks for reading!

[guzhufuren]

New posters, message, part of a soundtrack and information about upcoming chinese BL The General's Son, show from the director of Word of Honor

"Green mountains are hidden in the distance, the waters are far away, the bright moon is always shining, the world is full of happiness."

Genres: wuxia; revenge Number of episodes: 24 Episode runtime: 18 minutes

Lead actors: Li Kaiwen as Li Jianwei; Dong Zifan as Chen Xiaoxi

Director and executive producer: Ma Huagan (Word of Honor, The Legend of Anle, Sword Dynasty) Art director: Liu Jingping (Love and Redemption, A Dream of Splendor, Wonderland of Love) Screenwriter and chief producer: Zhou Shucheng Executive producers: Zhuo Zuoqing, Yang Qi Co-producers: Jiang Yuxin, Li Shike, Dong Xinyu Co-director: Wang Xue Producers: Jiang Zhengpeng, Liu Wei, Xu Heni Planning by: Luo Yuting, Luo Gaoqiang

Filming finished this June. Will not be broadcast in mainland China. Original script.

Synopsis: General Li's family were killed on New Year's Eve. Li Jianwei, the youngest son of the Li family, escaped death, but disguised himself as a courtesan and went to Wei Mountain to seek revenge. Chen Xiaoxi, the young master of Guigu, has a lively and eccentric personality, becomes increasingly close to Li Jianwei, who has tried his best to win him over. Chen Xiaoxi's sister, Xiao Hetao, is simple and kind. She discovers that Li Jianwei came for revenge, and dies to resolve the hatred between the two.

Characters:

Li Jianwei. Twenty years old, the youngest son of General Li Fei, he is loved by the whole family, standing like an orchid and a jade tree, smiling like the bright moon. He should have had a bright future, but his fate changed overnight. In order to get revenge, he went undercover to Weishan, enduring humiliation and patiently executing his plan step by step.

Chen Xiaoxi. At the age of twenty, we meet the young master of Weishan Guigu. He was born pure but had evil eyes. Under his lively and sunny appearance, his face looked like that of a devil's. In fact, he was rough but kind, and treated people with sincerity. Unfortunately, fate played a cruel joke on him and his mother died.

Xiao Hetao. At the age of seventeen, Chen Xiaoxi rescued a human child from a wolf pack. Innocent and romantic, she was very simple and naive. Gui Rong and others gave Xiao Hetao the purest and most innocent living environment, but she hoped to resolve the hatred of everyone with her own power.

Princess Qingyuan. Thirty-four years old, a graceful and elegant lady, smart and tenacious. She was in love with Chen Dawang when she was young. After Chen Dawang's death, she firmly refused marriage arranged by the magistrate's office and spent many years in Zhejiang. While helping Li Jianwei to take revenge, Qingyuan, the deputy envoy of the Chang'an Supervisor Zi Ke, has been trying to find out the truth about Jian Jishan from 20 years ago.

Chen Dawang. At the age of 38, we meet the leader of Guigu in Huishan. Twenty years ago, he was a major general in the Loyal and Brave Army led by Chen Weishan. Entrusted by the general, Chen Dawang and his party lived in seclusion in Guigu for twenty years, just to avenge the Loyal and Brave Army and reveal the truth to the world one day.

Sizhou. 24 years old, a descendant of the Loyal and Brave Army, he was a martial arts expert but became blind in two days. Because he was indebted to the Lord of Qingyuan, he stayed by his side and waited for investigation. While helping Li Jianwei to get his revenge, he also hoped to find out the truth of the old case of the Loyal and Brave Army from 20 years ago.

Wan Qianhong. Thirty-eight years old, owner of Baihua Villa, with mysterious martial arts and deceitful tricks. When she was young, she fell in love with Li Pu, who concealed his identity. Later, Li Xifei and Huang Jueda broke off all ties with Wan Qianhong. Since then, Wan Qianhong deeply hated Li Pu and all men in the world. Behind the hatred, Wan Qianhong missed her daughter so much that she mistakenly recognized Xiao Hetao as Zaotian's daughter. In the end, they ended up loving each other but not being able to be together.

Shi Tou. Eighteen years old, a good martial brother of Chen Xiaoxi, grew up in Jianweishan. He is the beloved son of Uncle Hua and Aunt Hua, with a simple and straightforward personality. He was happy and naive until Xiaohe died. The joy he did not even have time to express became the biggest regret in Shi Tou's life.

*text from informational brochures was converted with image to text online programs, translated through google translator and edited by me with some help of online dictionaries. i do not speak chinese, so there are most certainly mistakes in the text. purpose of this translation is to give you the general idea

[nthspecialll]

Charles's past

At New York Comic Con, Noshir Dahal said something quite interesting when he opened up about his thoughts on Charles and his past. He revealed that be believed Charles's wisdom to come from a past of terrible things not done to him but done by him and that he is now trying to do better. This, I think, opens an interesting discussion on how Charles might have been as a person years before he joined the gang.

The Charles we know is a bit stern but a just and fairly collected man, and Dahal mentions that we get to see a lot of his restraint to be this collected man in the game. Charles is able to keep himself under control but at times still struggles and will explode, such as with the bison hunters in chapter two.

The way he talks about the restaint and the terrible things Charles did in the past, makes me wonder if the Charles we know is one seeking his own form of redemption. It sounds to me like he was a highly more aggressive and violent man than the one in 1899 but that he is trying to change that path.

We know he is aware of himself and what he has done, he wonders if he was put on earth just to cause suffering, a fate and thought quite cruel, and maybe Charles is trying to escape it. He used to be a hot headed person, he is now restainting himself. He used to be a lone wolf, now he joined a gang. He used to kill a lot, now he tries to avoid it. He used to do bad things, now he helps however he can.

Maybe someone in the gang reached redemption and lived to tell the tale.

[catspawcreates]

Just curious, why do you simp for Kill Code?

Warning: Passionate Fangirl Lore Rant Ahead!

Honestly? There are a lot of reasons.

Short Version:

I have always had a love of villains. Dark Romantasy has always been a favorite genre.

Kill Code is a supportive single father. As a single mother of two, I connect to him and his struggles and shortcomings with his children.

He’s a multi faceted, layered character with a dark and light side that is really fun to play with! I like murdery Kill Code as much as I like sweet reformed KC.

Kill Code had so much potential as both a villain and a ‘good guy’ there were a lot of missed opportunities, and those are a joy to explore! Plus a giant robot trying to date and find love while suppressing his dark code? That’s such a good flavor ripe for shenanigans.

And… the brain hyper fixates as it sees fit 😹

He’s been my muse and I have tons of ideas still to explore.

——

Long Version With More Art Below:

When Kill Code was first introduced as an actual character both the wickedness and the wonderful design by Inkypop really drew me to him. Previously Eclipse had been my fav, but then there suddenly was this ominous presence. A foe from within, an inner demon… so I started drawing him.

But there was more to that demon. He was a caring father, taking on the twins immediately and sharing “bloody fun” with them. He was supportive of his sons. Although Eclipse was always salty, Kill Code did get him out of the twins head to the relative safety of the lab computer. That wasn’t entirely altruistic, but he never hated Eclipse.

I started to ponder what his motivations were. What was driving this murderous code? He wasn’t all bad. There were more layers to him. This led to writing my fanfic.

When the show gave him a change of heart it wasn’t like the murder parts went away. The creator tried to reactivate it in a later episode (which they never explored sadly). It was sheer force of will that he altered himself to be better, to do better, to grow as a person. He was a pacifist by choice and by determination to be more than what he was programmed for.

A theme that has come up many times since then in the show.

While his redemption arc was rushed and most of his character development was off screen (as Lunar put it in a ranking episode), this also leaves much to the imagination and is like a sandbox to play in.

Later Kill Code helped Sun train his star powers and offered support where he could. Whether that’s atoning for his past self, honoring old Moon, or just the kindness he’d cultivated in his code he just wanted to help his family as best he could.

When they said Kill Code was on tinder, well that opened a flood gate of new potential shenanigans and scenarios to imagine. What’s not to love about a reformed murder robot awkwardly seeking love and companionship?

In his final moments, when Bloodmoon confronted him, Kill Code stayed true to his convictions. He knew he failed the twins, but he urged them to evolve. He wanted them to grow past their code and be more than they were programmed for. Kill Code knew they were on a path of self destruction and still wanted the best for them.

It really tugged my heart strings. I cried so much. As a parent I want the best for my kids. To see them flourish and find a bright future… it really hit home.

And don’t get me started on the hilarious April Fools Uno 😹

I love the original DCA’s, SAMS DCA’s, AU versions and all in between….

But this Kill Code gripped me in his claws and my brain hasn’t let go 😅 hyper fixations are wild. I’ve been around a lot of different fandoms but never have I latched onto a character so fervently.

And I love every moment. 💕

[lollyposp]

okay im only slightly going insane right now about how MUCH i adore the way agatha is being portrayed in agatha all along. she's this awesome mix of horrible and sympathetic BUT not in the way that excuses everything she does. like, the other witches dislike her for good reason and even when agatha is nice to them or they realise she's got her own issues too like, that doesn't change what she's done in the past to get her reputation.

but ALSO it's so obvious that 90% or something of Agatha's personality is either a facade or an exaggeration of her bitterness because after everything we know of that's happened to her ("i can be good" "no you cannot", her son dying and rio's obvious involvement in that) it's like. how can she love. how can she trust when those she loved made her feel betrayed, or she lost them, or even both.

i think the first clue that a lot of her personality is a facade was the whole "just blast me" situation, because to me it felt like "well yeah Agatha's clearly nasty but how much of that is because she needs to annoy people into trying to kill her so she can grab their magic?" but I hadn't quite realised that there could be more to it than that

but episode 4 had SO MANY examples. i mean, Agatha's entire "no fucks given" attitude just fizzles out when the teen is dying and i feel like even the other witches picked up on it, like jen was clearly stunned by Agatha's grief as well as by Teen's condition. and then her sitting with Teen until he woke up, not even taking her eyes off him but as soon as he wakes up she pretends she just Happened to check on him Just as he woke up and that she didn't stay there the entire time.

and don't even GET ME STARTED on everything else. the scene at the fire where she very clearly struggled through having a positive interaction with the other witches?? and also the whole "she is my scar" but if i think too much about that i will actually go insane.

the scene that REALLY hasn't left my head all day is the scene where rio tells agatha that Teen isn't hers. ALL THE PROPS to kathryn hahn here she's an INCREDIBLE actress, but the way agatha just says NOTHING and slowly puts on a smile....😦 i was watching the episode with my housemates and the only thing i could say to them was "i literally saw the moment she put her act back on". because for all that agatha is so brash and loud, and no matter how much she might seek conflict with others, she runs away from all her emotional pain because it's too much for her to bear. because how do you even move on from the woman you loved being at least partly complicit in your son's death? whether agatha really DID trade him for the dark hold and regretted it immediately or whether the rumour IS just a rumour and nick and the dark hold aren't connected at all, RIO still is connected to either of those ideas.

(honestly as it stands right now im in whatever camp believes he WAS traded for the darkhold, but agatha somehow didn't realise he would be traded until after it was too late, because i feel like it's what explains her actions in WV and her hallucination the most. also it makes rio's actions all the more painful to agatha because it would have been a mistake she didn't mean to make, and rio would not budge even with that knowledge and OUCH. but that's neither here nor there)

honestly this whole incoherent essay was just to say that i love Agatha's character. i love that the question surrounding her isn't really "is she good or evil?" or even "can she be good?". i feel like it's clear there IS a good person in agatha but because she's ignored it for so long (some of that is probably due to the darkhold) the question kind of becomes "does it matter that she's got good inside her if she refuses to show it?". she's so firmly in the morally grey camp that while i do kind of want her to have a redemption arc and to have a whole found family thing go on, i honestly don't see it happening and i also at the same time DON'T want her to be redeemed when she's so interesting because she's this person who clearly has the capacity to be good and chooses not to out of pride and fear of being vulnerable and all the trauma she's accumulated.

oh i completely forgot to mention that im also obsessed with the sound booth scene???? i honestly can't figure out if she's just shit stirring when she projects her and rio's conversation for the fun of it, or if it's like a fucked up agatha way of trying to protect her new coven by giving them reasons to distrust rio and be wary of her, specifically because she thinks rio will betray her/betray them and reap them. I can't figure it out. it might even be both.

anyway live laugh love agatha

[slvtfornegan]

Trapped

Characters: Negan x F!reader

Summary: After beeing trapped in the depot with the dead clawing outside, Negan has to confess and after almost loosing you in the horde, he has to embrace his weaknesses.

A/N: no smut this time, this is some mushy shit i wrote cs i was bored, one day and i need to get it out of my notes, i have a few other started and i will finish them soon. Love vulnerable men tho

The air inside the depot was thick, hot, and tainted with the kind of rot that settled in the lungs and refused to leave.

You could taste it: a sour blend of rust, sweat, and the sickly-sweet stench of the dead. Wood-paneled walls, old and splintered, boxed you in from every side.

No windows. No window that you could open because they were sealed, and the dead was clawing at the walls outside.

Just seams in the boards that leaked faint slits of gray light from the storm outside. Dust hovered in the air, catching the dull glow like static, and every few seconds, the silence was broken by the slow, rhythmic thud of bodies slamming against the exterior walls.

They moaned, low and constant, like a chant. Hundreds of them. Maybe more. Their groans seeped through the gaps, muffled but unmistakable. And the worst part was how relentless they were. No pause. No break. Like the dead were trying to crush the place down around you.

You were trapped. You, Negan and this dumbass priest that got you in here.

He paced a few feet away, jaw tense, Lucille dangling loosely from one hand like a warning. His white shirt clung to his chest with sweat, and strands of his hair curled at his temple, damp from heat and stress. He looked like he’d crawled through hell and somehow still came out cocky. Sweat glistened his face in the dim light that sneaked through the cracks, but damn if he didn’t still move like he owned the world.

You hated how good he looked in moments like this. How alive he seemed in the middle of chaos.

Before either of you could say more, Gabriel spoke up from the other side of the room. He had barely moved since they all slammed the door shut behind them, but now he was standing, shoulders squared, his eyes flicking between you and Negan like he was watching two dangerous animals share a cage.

“I think… I think we were brought here for a reason,” he said, voice calm but cracked from the heat. “Maybe this is an opportunity to confess. To seek redemption.”

Negan tilted his head back and sighed, eyes rolling toward the ceiling.

“Oh, God. Not this shit again.”

“I mean it,” Gabriel said, stepping forward. “You have people who follow you. People who kill for you. That kind of power should be used for something greater. You could change. Be better.”

Negan was already laughing. Not cruelly, just in that way that said he’d heard this speech a dozen times and found it equally ridiculous every time.

“And what?” Negan said. “Join hands, sing a little kumbaya, and feed the walkers communion wafers? Sorry, padre. I like who I am.”

“You’re lying,” Gabriel said sharply. “You’re afraid to admit what you’ve done. You’re scared of being weak.”

Negan’s smile didn’t fade, but something shifted behind it.

And then—BANG!

The gunshot cracked through the room like lightning.

You ducked instinctively, heart vaulting into your throat as your ears rang.

Smoke drifted from Gabriel’s pistol. Before the sound had even settled, he turned and shoved open the door to the next room of the depot. Negan shouted, lunging for him, but the priest was faster, he slammed the door in his face, locking it with a bolt from the inside.

“Goddamn it!” Negan roared, throwing a fist at the wall, his bat clattering to the floor beside him. “Son of a bitch Gabe!”

You blinked, still crouched, adrenaline buzzing through you. “Did he hit you?” You breathed out.

Negan ran a hand down his side, checked for blood, then shook his head. “Nah. Just gave me a haircut.“

Negan was pacing around like a caged animal. He was pissed. “Tell me a reason why I shouldn’t let these freaks outside chew on your cowardy ass Gabe and just save my own ass?”

“I’m not gonna die. Not before you confess.”

Negan groaned muttering curses under his breath. With a sigh he finally stopped pacing and looked over you. Your focus was somewhere else again.

You sat on the floor near the far corner of the room, arms wrapped around your knees, trying to keep your breath steady. You hated small dark spaces. Always had. But now, the dark corners felt deeper. The air felt heavier. Every heartbeat drummed louder in your ears, and your stomach coiled tighter with every minute that passed.

Negan noticed.

He sat down beside you, stretching his long legs out in front of him leaning his head back against the wall, let out a long breath, and turned his face toward you.

His tone softened, just a fraction. “You good?”

You shot him a look. “Do I look good?”

“Honestly? You look like you’re about two seconds from punching a wall and making out with it after. You’re practically vibrating here. For a second I thought maybe it’s cause i have this effect on you.” He smirked.

Your lips twitched. God he was ridiculous sometimes. “Asshole.” You huffed.

“Guilty.” He chuckled. “No, but seriously you okay?”

“Not really.”

“You don’t like tight spaces, huh?”

You shook your head. “Never did.”

“Huh,” he said, like that was interesting. “Is it the walls, or just the whole ‘trapped’ thing?”

You thought about it. “Both.”

Negan didn’t say anything for a second. Then he adjusted his position and moved just a little closer, just enough for your shoulders to brush, just enough for his body heat to make the air feel warmer, but not enough to feel like a threat.

“Want me to talk or shut up?” he asked. “You know, be a distraction or just sit here and look pretty. I can do either. I’m extremely talented.”

Your lips twitched again, as you sighed while shaking your head. The tension in your chest loosened just a notch.

You and Negan were thing? You could say that. You weren’t a wife, weren’t a saviour. You were something between. You trusted with each others lives more than once. And trust wasn’t something often these days.

He wasn’t the king of fucking emphaty never showed much mercy, but you saw a softer side of him during the time spent together. Something human you thought wasn’t there anymore, or maybe never was. You didn’t really understand how you gotten yourself into this with him, because you were terrified of him at the start. But he had to flash you a smile just to make yourself question your own morals.

You were glad that he cared. And he tried to show it in his own twisted way sometimes, but he did it. He could remember the smallest detail of something you didn’t even remember telling him, lingering touches and intense glances.

You couldn’t help yourself. Your fingers moved before you even thought about it, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. Negan’s eyes followed your hand, his breath stilling. Then, he closed his eyes as if savoring the touch.

His lips twitched as he opened his eyes a little, watching you through his long lashes “You keep that up, I’ll think you like me or something.” He teased, his voice rough.

“Wouldn’t want that to happen right?” You leaned in without really thinking, hand still lingering in his hair, brushing a few damp strands back. His breath caught slightly, and you saw the flicker of something in his half-linded eyes. He was watching you so intensely for a moment it made you feel even more nervous.

He wasn’t sure how you did that, but it was enough of one small touch from you and the whole world could go to hell, it was enough for him.

Negan didn’t say anything at first. His eyes were dark, like he was weighing something. Then, without warning, he leaned in. Slowly.

Purposefully.

And before you could stop it, his lips were on yours.

His lips were warm against yours, his breath heavy, and his hand came up to rest on your neck, the touch gentle but commanding.

Your hand slid down from his hair to his jaw, thumb brushing the rough line of stubble along his cheek. He didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into your touch like he needed it, like it was the only real thing left in the room, a low sound rumbling in his throat.

His lips moved against yours slowly, searching, unhurried and it drove you completely insane.

You didn’t realize how tightly your hands were holding onto him until he pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was warm, and the closeness of him pressed out some of the panic still rattling in your chest. You could feel his breath on your skin, slow and deliberate, like he didn’t want to lose the moment.

“Better?” He teased against your lips a smile stretching wider on his face.

“Mhmm..” you hummed running a hand down his chest, under his jacket and you heard him holding back a low sound in the back of his throat before your lips found his again. You could feel his heart beating so fast. You weren’t sure if it was because of the lack of oxygen or because of something entirely else.

The kiss deepened, and you let your hands roam, sliding down his chest to his side, where you felt the muscles tense under your fingertips. He groaned, his grip on your neck tightened just enough to anchor you, then his hand slid down your arm, catching your wrist gently before you could pull him any closer. His fingers were warm, strong, and surprisingly gentle.

His hand lingered on your wrist, his thumb brushing lazy circles against your pulse point. His lips hovered near yours, breath catching like he was weighing something.

Then he pulled back. Not much. Just enough to look at you fully. His eyes full if mischief.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low, “but if we keep going, I’m not stopping until I’ve got you on your back, and I don’t think padrpe would appreciate the soundtrack.”

You exhaled a laugh, half relief, half frustration as you dropped your head against the wall behind you.

You almost hated how easy it was to get lost in the way his lips brushed against yours, the way his hands moved over your skin like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Almost.

“You're lucky Gabe is right there,” he muttered, brushing his thumb across your pulse again, his hand still resting lightly on your wrist. His voice was low, a soft growl that made your pulse race all over again. “If not, I'd be throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to the damn roof to scream my name just to keep you from going stir crazy.”

You bit your lip, fighting the rush of heat that spread through you at his words. You shoved his chest muttering curses under your breath only making him snicker in response.

Before either of you could push it further before another kiss, another word, another moment of closeness the walls creaked.

A low, wooden creak that wasn’t just age or heat, it was pressure. The unmistakable strain of weight building up on the outside. The walkers weren’t just pawing now. They were pushing. Shoving. Climbing over each other like rats in a box, trying to bust through.

You both froze, the air sharpening like a blade between your ribs.

Then came the first crack, one of the old boards near the door splintered, just a hairline fracture at first, but it widened fast, like a dry bone snapping under strain. The moans grew louder. Closer. You could hear nails scratching wood. Teeth gnashing. Skin slapping against the siding.

“They’re breaking through,” you said, your voice dry and tight.

Negan’s expression darkened. He shoved up from the floor, grabbing Lucille from where she lay discarded. “No shit.”

Another board split with a sharp, CRACK, and daylight punched through the seam.

“Gabriel!” Negan shouted, storming toward the locked door. “You better get your holy ass out here right fucking now!”

Silence from the other side.

Negan pounded on the door with the flat of his palm. “I am not dying in this goddamn mouse trap because you’re having a spiritual fucking epiphany, man!”

Still nothing.

You stood, backing toward the corner with your knife drawn, breath catching in your throat. The boards were bending now, snapping in places.

“I can’t,” he said. “I have to do this. I have to confess.”

“Then confess!” Negan shouted. “I don’t give a shit what it is, just open the door and say it to my face before we both get our guts ripped out!”

Silence again. Then a long breath. And finally, Gabriel’s voice hoarse and raw.

“I failed my congregation. I lost my faith. I watched people die when I could’ve saved them. I locked the doors and left them out there to die. That’s what I did. I abandoned them. I heard them screaming, and i didn’t do anything to help them, just listened to them dying.”

You blinked, stunned by the rawness of it. Even Negan went quiet for a beat, his hand on the door.

“Holy shit Gabe.” He huffed shaking his head before he leaned it against the door “that’s some cowardly ass move.”

“I know.” Gabriel continued, “I thought if I followed you, if I understood you, maybe I could find meaning again. Maybe I could earn forgiveness. But none of it works unless you confess too.”

Negan stared at the door. His knuckles flexed white around the handle of Lucille.

“You want my confession?” he muttered.

“Yeah,” came Gabriel’s voice, quieter now. “I do.”

Negan leaned his head against the door. His voice was lower, but steady. “Fine.” A long pause followed after “I was married before all this. My wife Lucille. My first wife. My real wife.”

You watched him and couldn’t believe what you heard. His wife’s name was Lucille? Even from where you stood, you could see the shift in him. The way something behind his eyes dropped, like a weight he didn’t want to carry anymore but couldn’t let go of either.

“I wasn’t a good man. Not even close. I lied to her. I screwed around. Cheated on her. Told myself I deserved better. That she did. But she stuck with me.” He bit on his lip swallowing hard, his head hang down against the wall, and for the first time you could see something entirely different in him. Pain? Shame? Sometimes you thought he wasn’t really capable of.

“She got sick. Cancer. Bad. And the world started falling apart just when she started getting worse. Hospitals shut down. Treatment stopped. And I—”

He swallowed once again, his voice hoarser, full of emotions, his eyes glossy as well but he didn’t let those tears fall. The bat hung loose in his hand again, like it had forgotten how to be a weapon.

“I couldn’t face it. I searched for medication but it was too late.” His voice dropped. It sounded hoarser, creaking at the end of the sentence. “I wasn’t there when she died. I wasn’t there for any of it. She died thinking i didn’t give a shit about her. So I ran. Like a goddamn coward. And by the time I realized what I’d done, it was too late.”

Silence. A real silence this time. Even the walkers seemed to pause, like the world itself had stopped breathing.

Negan let out a shaky exhale. “That is how i was weak. That’s my big confession. Happy now?”

There was a pause, and then—click. The bolt turned. The door creaked open, and Gabriel stepped out, his eyes glassy but resolute. He handed Negan the gun “You’re forgiven.”

Negan started at him with a serious face before delivering a punch to his nose “thanks.” He turned away from him as Gabriel grabbed his nose “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

He didn’t look at you. But he could feel your gaze. Boring into his back watching him, trying to see through, like you always did. He hated that he looked vulnerable. Especially in front of you. His pride was too big.

Negan didn’t say a damn word after that. The confession had cracked something open in him, but now he was sealing it up again with every step, patching himself together with sheer force of will. You followed, silent, eyes locked on his broad back, heart pounding harder than it had before the kiss.

Outside the depot door, the horde was still there. Groans thick and heavy in the air like a fever dream come to life. Through the cracked wood slats, you could see them pressing against the walls faces half gone, teeth bared, eyes glassy and wet. Hands scraping. Smearing blood. Clawing mindlessly toward the scent of the living.

Negan stopped a few feet from the entrance and muttered, “We ain’t getting out of here clean.”

You came up beside him. “So what’s the plan?”

He looked at you and then Gabriel. “We play dead. Same trick as before.”

Your stomach turned. “The guts.”

“Yeah, sweetheart.” Negan shot you a grim smile. “Time to suit the fuck up.”

He stalked to one of the broken boards, shoved it aside with his boot, and scanned the pile of writhing corpses just outside. With a grunt, he kicked at the door hard enough to jar it open a sliver more, then lunged forward like a snake, grabbing a walker by the collar.

The thing snarled, arms flailing wildly. Negan didn’t flinch. He yanked it through the gap, twisted, and SLAM—Lucille came down like thunder, splintering the walker’s skull with a wet crunch. Blood sprayed. Bone cracked. The body went limp.

He was breathing hard now, chest heaving. “This one’ll do.”

Negan plunged his hands into the opened chest cavity with zero hesitation, ripping out steaming handfuls of slick, stinking gore. The smell was instant, acrid, coppery, thick enough to choke on. You gagged slightly but forced yourself to kneel, zipping your jacket. Gabriel did the same.

You pulled your jacket tighter, already regretting every choice that led you to this moment. All of you started covering up with whatever the fuck insides where there so the dead outside couldn’t smell you. You gagged once more time but tried to hide it behind a grimace.

Taking a deep breath you tried not to inhale too deeply, and stepped forward, grabbing a slick piece of viscera and draping it over your jacket like a sash of death. It was warm. Too warm. Sticky. Like being hugged by decay itself.

Negan glanced over at you and grinned as he covered himself with gore. “Look at you. Fuckin’ prom queen of the apocalypse.”

“I hate you,” you muttered, smearing blood down your arm.

He smirked. “Keep sayin’ that, darlin’. One of these days, maybe I’ll start believing it.”

“I swear,” you grumbled, “if I die smelling like this, I’m haunting your ass.”

Negan reached into the corpse and pulled out a dripping organ you didn’t want to identify. “Baby, you can haunt me any damn time. Hell, make it a kink.”

You slapped his shoulder not too hard, before grabbing your own handful of gore with a grimace. You raised your gaze noticing how Gabriel watched for a moment your interaction, and too pissed because you had to cover yourself in guts, and because you were trapped here also because of him, you spoke up, “whatcha looking at?” You sneered, the words coming out a little too meaner than you intended.

Gabriel flinched at your tone, and he quickly turned away, his face flushed with both the discomfort of the situation and your sharpness. "Nothing," he muttered, wiping his nose.

“Hey,” Negan said, as he threw a last glistening chunk of something wet at the ground. “No need to go snapping at ol’ Gabe. He might be a coward, but he’s a confessing coward now.”

You shot him a glare. “I wouldn’t be covered in someone else’s spleen if it weren’t for him.” Negan chuckled.

“All right,” he said, smearing one last streak of gore across himself. “Stay close. Stay quiet. And for the love of god, if one of them so much as sniffs in your direction—don’t freeze. Keep moving.”

He opened the door and the walkers burst inside. Then he stepped into the horde. You followed. Gabriel came last, his breath shaky behind you.

—

Once in your room, after a long shower where you tried to wash off of yourself last remainings of whatever crap you smeared on yourself, you stood in front of the small mirror on the wall, running your hands through your slightly damp hair after the shower.

A small knock at the door caught your attention. You turned your head towards it and just answered quickly “come in.” Before looking back in the mirror.

The door cracked open and and he stood there in the doorway for a moment.

You didn’t have to look who it was to know that it was him. You felt it.

Slowly turning your attention towards him, you saw his dark eyes drinking you in, intensely. He wore a clean white shirt and gray jeans, like usual, the shirt clinging slightly to his body. The tattoos adoring his skin under the sleeves. Lucille was in his hand, and it was also clean already.

He took a step forward, but it was slow, deliberate, like he was waiting for you to make the first move.

You couldn’t help but feel his gaze tracing the lines of your body, lingering where the shirt clung to your still-wet skin. It made you self-conscious, but you kept your posture steady, fighting the heat that rose to your cheeks.

"Is there a reason you're standing there like you're about to rob me, or did you just miss me?" You raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

His lips twitched as he stepped closer, placing Lucille aside. Stopping right behind you, you could feel the heat of his body, and it caused your skin tingle, in a good way. You saw his reflection in the mirror, as he leaned down and whispered softly in your ear, “I missed you.”

“It’s been two hours.”

He shrugged. “Two hours too long.” He murmured his lips moving down your neck. His hands slid down your waist, greedy and purposeful.

He needed that, and you could feel it. They way he grabbed you and pulled you closer, the way his breathing got heavier and his kisses more persistent.

He almost lost you in the horde today. A few of those dead freaks dragged you back into the crowd and all fell on top of you, in the middle of that mess. God knows how you got out of there without getting torn apart or bit.

He couldn’t even afford the thought about loosing you.

It terrified him that he almost lost you and he couldn’t do anything about it, again.

Your breath hitched as his lips brushed along your neck, but you didn’t stop him. Instead, you leaned back slightly, giving him more access, letting his hands explore with the kind of hunger that wasn’t about lust alone. A silent plea for something real in a world that had lost everything else.

You turned to face him, your hands sliding up his chest, fingertips pressing into the fabric of his shirt “You okay?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, the kind of softness you usually used with him.

His gaze met yours, dark and intense, like he was deciding whether or not to lie. And he did. “Yeah.” He said simply. But in fact, he wasn’t. “I just… I saw you go down,” he murmured. “Saw those fuckers drag you in, and I swear to god, I thought—” He cut himself off, jaw flexing hard as his forehead rested against yours. “I thought I was gonna lose you. I thought I already had.” He exhaled a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Christ, don’t go gettin’ a big head about it, but yeah. Scared the hell outta me.”

You smiled, but it was small. “You gonna admit you care? Or is that still too much of a buzzkill?”

Negan pulled back just enough to look at you, a crooked grin forming “Sweetheart, I care enough to let you get away with slappin’ me and backtalkin’ every five seconds. That’s practically a goddamn proposal.”

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers tightened against his shirt. “So that’s your version of love?”

He snorted, eyes flicking down to your mouth. “Love’s a fairy tale word for people who didn’t live through the end of the world.”

“Yeah? But you loved Lucille?” You pressed.

For a second you regretted saying that. His expression shifted at the mention of her name. The easy grin vanished, and for a moment, his eyes darkened, as if he was seeing something far away. The energy in the room thickened, and the tension between you both grew heavy.

"Yeah, I loved her… more than anything.” He paused “I fucked up, though. Couldn’t protect her. Couldn’t even be there when she needed me the most." His jaw clenched as he spoke. “But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna keep livin’ in the past.” His voice was quieter now. “I’m not fucking running anymore," he muttered, his voice low, as if speaking those words were a form of resistance. As if admitting something, even as small as that, felt like a battle.

He reached up, brushing his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. "And I’ll be damned if I lose you too." he leaned in and kissed you, slow, deep. His hands found your face, fingers curling around your jaw like he was anchoring himself there.

You always tried to understand Negan, and couldn’t do it every time, he was always hiding behind that bravado, but right now you knew what he eeded.

He needed you.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, pouring everything into it, every ounce of relief, of anger, of want. Your fingers twisted into his shirt, tugging him closer until there was no space left between you. You could feel his heartbeat through the fabric, erratic and hard, and you knew it wasn’t just the adrenaline.

The kiss got deeper, hungrier. He backed you towards the bed till the back of your knees hit the edge of it, and you laid down pulling him on top of you.

Positioning himself between your legs, his hands traced every curve of your body, gripping, caressing. His lips left yours and attached to your neck, panting softly against your skin. The feeling of his stubble scraping your skin made you sigh in pleasure, your head tipping back giving him more access.

Your fingers curled in hushed hair tugging on it softly and elected from him a low sound.

But you weren’t in the mood of getting into his pants this time. Not after this whole emotional rollercoaster.

“Negan…” You gave his hair another tug, but firmer this time. He moaned lifting his head up to look at you.

Your eyes searched his face, his brows were furrowed, and there was a hint of confusion in his gaze, as if he was trying to figure out what was going on. You never turned him down before.

He wasn't used to this, he wasn't used to being in a position where he couldn’t just dominate the situation, especially with you. He felt so pathetic because you saw him today.

Real him.

Weak vulnerable and scared. Something that he never showed. Something he masked behind his loud mouth crude jokes and being an asshole every time.

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you for a long moment, before he let out a long sigh, tipping his head back down to the crook of your neck and placing one last kiss, then he turned on his side, laying next to you. “You want me to leave?” His voice was hoarse, tired almost.

“No.” You muttered softly, your hand still in his hair. “Stay.”

Negan's body tensed for a moment, like he was debating whether to push further or just let the moment settle. But as your fingers kept playing with the strands of his hair, he relaxed, his muscles unwinding slowly as he stretched out beside you. His arm draped over your waist, pulling you close, and he let out a deep exhale, as though the weight of the world had slightly lifted off his chest, just from this simple act of proximity.

He let out another quiet sound, as your fingers ran down his scalp, his eyes closing, enjoying your touch.

His voice, low and muffled against your neck, broke the silence. “Damn woman for making me soft.” he grumbled, his voice muffled. You hummed faintly, thumb brushing along the edge of his hairline.

Negan would never admit that, it was too much of a vulnerable side for him to show, but it wasn’t just sex that he was craving.

He seek your affection. He needed comfort. Something to ground him. Something that wasn’t covered in blood and regret.

He shut those feelings down for a long time, buried the shame and guilt somewhere deep inside, it made him feel numb, trapped in this mess. He had his followers, he loved the attention, loved being in control loved the power and that’s all he needed. At least that’s what he thought. He thought he wasn’t able to care about someone this way anymore. Denied and denied.

But here he was.

You huffed out a chuckle looking down at him “You like that?”

His lips twitched into a grin, though his eyes remained half-lidded, relaxed. “Hell, I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” he murmured, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your side. “But i got a reputation to maintain.”

You couldn’t help but smirk “scared your men will find out the big bad Negan likes cuddles?” You teased.

His grin widened, a low chuckle vibrating against you skin “I’ll have you know, sweetheart, I’m a badass even when I’m getting my ass cuddled. Just don’t go spreadin’ rumors.”

You huffed out another breathy chuckle. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t heavy anymore. It wasn’t awkward or tense. It was warm. Safe.

And that was enough.

[qoldenskies]

What is Villain Donnie's relationship with Draxum? Would he seek him out as a family member once he realized he was his creator or no?

donnie has a couple encounters with draxum, and they briefly have kind of a dynamic before draxum joins the foot. draxum is just. reluctant, and impatient, and kind of disgusted by donnie's puppy-like enthusiasm. donnie only works for him once, during the evil league of mutants, and once he fails and gets beaten draxum discards him and moves on. he's almost completely uninterested in his other creations too in canon, once he starts pursuing the dark armor, so it's kind of the same thing here.

donnie was actually lowkey really excited to be a peon rip 😔 but he was too weird and unsocialized and desperate that draxum found him too frustrating and uncomfortable the first few times they interacted, and that was especially difficult because he was so excited to see him the first time around. it's not like with the other three where they purposefully burned that bridge-- donnie wanted to join. the destruction of humanity sounded cool, he did not understand the implications of that idea LMAO.

like draxum doesn't see them as his children, just as his creations (this probably would have changed if he'd personally raised them, but alas). he was fully willing to kill them once they got out of line, so it didn't mean much to him to leave donnie behind, even though donnie was HEARTBROKEN by it. like he really did think he wasnt going to fuck it up this time....,,,,

when mikey starts the whole redemption arc thing, donnie is EXTREMELY enthusiastic to get back in draxum's good graces again. he doesn't really feel like he's being productive unless he's chasing something, and that's usually the love of someone else. at that point he's already well earned it amongst his family, but like... a new father figure...... waow......... it seriously concerns the others though because at least mikey is being somewhat realistic about this and not just trusting draxum blindly.

draxum continues to be extremely annoyed by him. he will sit there and tolerate mikey's bullshit for hours, but donnie comes in once and he'll immediately kick him out. it takes quite a while for his excitement to circle around to being endearing, although draxum would kinda struggle to admit he sees it that way. it's very clear to him that donnie can take a serious hit and keep coming back for more, so it's not like he's breaking his heart forever by getting annoyed with him

i think he'll just cross a line at a certain point, hurt donnie's feelings to a point where he doesn't bounce back, incur the INTENSE wrath and fury of the others, and FINALLY apologize and actually try to mend that bridge with him lmao.

[lakesparkles]

I hate myung-gi so much 😭 it’s not even funny at this point I thought maybe he could be redeemed in season 3 but no. I don’t know why some people think he’s a good person or a good father from season 2 like this man would’ve never reached out to Jun-hee if they weren’t in squid game together, he would’ve never known that she kept the baby. And he obviously never wanted to be a father in the first place and Jun-hee never forced him to, he just kept putting himself in her life and trying to “protect” her and the second she dies, he’s like oh let me kill my own baby like bro what 😭

And he literally killed off two of Jun-hee’s friends in mingle and hide and seek and never even apologized for it like I feel like that’s the least he could’ve done. Like at least acknowledge that he fucked up.

I want to congratulate season 3, actually. I thought it was impossible for me to dislike Myung-gi more - and omg, I DID try everything I could to change my mind and start liking him better: I read fanfics, saw fanart. Nothing ever worked.

My problem with him was that he was written in a weird way. Too bad to be a good guy, too good to be a bad guy. Is he pretending? Is he actually sorry for his mistakes? Back in season 2, I had no idea. He confused me and ended up being only annoying. When he projected Min-so from Thanos and Nam-gyu, I got pissed. Literally one of my least favorite moments from him.... Because are you telling me that NOW YOU CARE??? Now you remember you have good morals, but when it was your turn to try to manipulate your ex girfriend you forgot?? I wanted him to take responsability, to stop being a constant victim who could blame anyone but himself.

So I didn't want him to get a redemption in season 3, no no. This would've annoyed me even more because it wasn't deserved. I didn't want Jun-hee to forgive him just because. I didn't want him to use the obvious "I was trying to protect you all along" because OH GOD he was already a boring and predictable character, this wouldn't help his case.

I wanted him to get worse and admit his mistakes and see that maaaaybe he isn't so different from all those "bad guys" in that place.

And I got my wish in season 3, funny enough. He became worse AND I HATED HIM. HOLY SHIT

I knew he would be a finalist and I was right and it sucked. He was only a good character next to Nam-gyu, he doesn't work well alone. He bores me at best. He's impossible to watch at worse. Hating him isn't even fun anymore, I wanted him gone

[eatsbooks]

How does Eris feel about cassian?

pre-acosf i think eris disdained him in the same way you might a small splinter in the side of your thumb. the majority of the time you don't even realize it's there — but then sometimes it catches on a thread or you rub against it the wrong way, and the pain is fleeting but sharp and unexpected, and no matter how you hold it to the light, no matter how you try to get it out, no matter that you think it finally gone, it stays stuck in there. maybe even gets shoved in deeper. it's similar to how eris feels about rhysand or azriel antagonizing him about the morrigan incident, except i think with cassian there's the added — you're the one who fucked her; your actions are what got her butchered at all. how can you revile me when your role in this is far worse? how is it my fault you didn't have the foresight to know how the game would be played, and i have no recourse but to play it? but cassian not knowing how to play the political game doesn't really affect eris yet, so that manifests more as just a general lack of respect / discounting any opinion cassian has as uninformed. plus of all the inner circle, i think cassian has the most moral righteousness. his shame is tied to his being a bastard, not really to any actions he has taken himself, so he doesn't know the shame of being Bad like azriel and rhysand do. this makes his interactions with eris, who doesn't really attribute morality to things / doesn't have the luxury of holding morality in high regard, even more unpleasant to deal with. plus plus general illyrian / lesser fae prejudice.

post-acosf... i'm sure sjm is going to make him seek nc validation and absolution as part of his character / redemption arc, but eye think eris wants to burn cassian specifically to an absolute crisp. throughout acosf, eris is constantly insulted and antagonized; has crucial information about the trove withheld from him by his chosen allies, while he is offering information they could not get elsewhere; is publicly made a fool of by his allies when they dangle nesta in front of him despite the open secret of her being cassian's mate; has his guards (who he got captured by because he cared so much for them that he refused to raise a hand against them when he easily could have killed them BTW) slaughtered and then tortured by said allies; gets captured and has his bodily autonomy stripped from him just to bait the night court; and then cassian has the audacity to call eris a coward after he endures his father's torture to preserve night court interests and alliances. like holy shit, u kno? and if i missed anything it would only further my point. eris overextends himself on behalf of the night court throughout that entire book and sees literally nothing in return. not even any real change in their opinion of him. just a scrap of cassian thinking he might be a good person, then insulting him for ... some reason? again, that constant air of moral superiority from cassian that eris cannot stand, weaponized at what is maybe the worst time to do so — when eris has just had the longstanding vulnerability of his abuse exposed in his efforts to protect those who only show him ingratitude and resentment. sooo yeah, i think eris would happily see cassian reduced to a pile of ashes, especially since he was the talking piece for the nc throughout acosf.

[angrybubbles]

Death and Symbolism in Interview with the Vampire - Lestat de Lioncourt

Disclaimer: I have only seen the AMC adaption. Any knowledge from the books that I will occasionally use to support my point I have collected via tumblr osmosis. If you have read the books, please feel free to add or disagree as you please.

Now if there is a Vampire in the Chronicles that screams The Standard, I'd have to go with Lestat de Lioncourt. Part of it is the framing of his character from Louis' point of view, as Lestat is the deliverer of his death. The other part, as discussed in this post on Louis, is that he harkens back to the image of our establishing figures in Vampire literature.

I am aware this is immediately contrasted by good ol' Monsieur le Rockstar, but I am going to choose to keep the future of Lestat out of this analysis for my sake of mind, because the whole point of The Vampire Lestat is to recontextualize the first book. Just know I see the Brat Prince, I see his religious exchange with Jesus as a metaphor for redemption, and I choose not to add that to this cluster fuck.

Lestat de Lioncourt

Now Lestat is a fun character in a lot of ways. He is dramatic, eye-catching, annoying, and compelling in such a way that kind of settles itself over the story. Louis can try all he likes to claim he hates him, or no longer loves him, but Lestat is always there. As Armand points out, it always comes back to him. He is worshiped in the same way he is reviled; by being the giver of death, as well as a spark for change. Change of Louis, Claudia, Antoinette, Nicki, the Théâtre, ect.

Lestat's death was a horror show, as Louis so eloquently pointed out. One of many look-alikes piled in a room to be fed on by death until it culled them. Lestat, however, was the exception. He was given the gift to become death, as the one that granted it ended himself completely. In the show, he says he has no idea why, and that leads me to believe that he tries to make a reason why. Thus, why he is so flamboyant, narcissistic, and dramatic. He seeks reason for a death he did not consent to. He wants to claim it, to seem above it, and so he becomes a production of death. That legacy becomes the Théâtre de Vampire.

This is also reflected in his background. He is the youngest son of an ailing noble family. Lestat would already be in a place where proving his worth in life is a necessity, and this unfortunately is continued after he meets his death.

So, Lestat performs. And he is good at it. There is less of a lie to create this performance (in comparison with Armand), and so it is an earnest projection of "me, me, see me, love me." And so the deaths he gives are often quite dramatic and personal. If I had to assign the characteristics of Death he delivers, it is a Passionate Death and a Dramatic Death.

Let's think about the first kill we see of his in the series. A lamp-snuffer trying to put out the lights of New Orleans. Lestat plays with him, making him snuff out the light multiple times before dramatically launching himself to drag him off-screen. This playing with light is also symbolic of death, for the light (life) is always going to go out, but he's the one in control of it.

This performance is also what catches his eye on Louis. Louis performs a character to keep control in Storyville. He performs a character to stay in the closet. He performs to meet expectations, just as Lestat performs to be a vampire.

It's why he beckons Louis to his side, in the midst of Louis' incredibly personal grief with "Come to Me," because he's looking to create a distraction of passion. And instead, turns an attempt at redemption into a dramatic blood-soaked wedding at an altar he doesn't believe in. He chose a moment of passion and drama to turn Louis, to claim a sense of healing because he can "fix" this. He can fix Louis' hurt. (Alas, death doesn't heal all wounds.) To be loved by death is a promise of freedom and of perspective.

And this is also what helps Louis keep going, sometimes literally.

The death of Passion haunts Louis. A dramatic death often fosters a sense of guilt (or makes it, Passion creating Regret). However, as the end of season 2 reveals, Grief and Regret have also haunted Lestat. It's one of the reasons they are drawn to each other; Lestat has trouble feeling grief and regret and searches for it in others, and Louis has always put on a performance in life, so it feels most comfortable to him. He desires the drama of Lestat. They seek out what they feel are missing in themselves, and they find it in each other.

There's also the matter of turning Claudia. He didn't turn Claudia because he loved her (of course, neither did Louis), instead Lestat treated the turning as a passionate gift to a distraught lover. A dramatic end to Claudia's childhood innocence, which also includes the steps he takes to manage her. I don't mean to say he never loved her, but his love was also performative. Gifts and lessons, but never sincere connection.

And this line of drama and passion connect through all of the victims that Louis and Claudia tell us Lestat hunts for. The drawn out death of the Opera Tenor through humiliation because he soured a note. Haunting lovers lanes to taste their passion, cutting them short just as they reach the height of pleasure. Young men and beautiful women, whom he lures to himself with seduction and performance. He scoffs at searching for evil-doers or trying to bring about restorative justice through his actions (interesting, interesting, White Man in New Orleans), and instead it is all focused on him. "Me, me, me, me." This passion and drama is how Claudia tricks him into the murder attempt, because he can't say no to such an opportunity to perform. (I'm going to leave the Trial as a Sword of Damocles. Take the metaphor and run with it.)

It's interesting that while Lestat turns performers (Gabrielle who preformed as his mother, Nikki who performed with the Violin, Antoinette who was a singer, Louis who performed as a gangster, the ratcatcher) he is emotionally drawn to Love those who revel in grief. Perhaps this is him seeking out those who process the emotions that he masks over.

Now I mentioned racism in Louis' so I'm also going to mention it here, because it is so important to getting Lestat's role in the story. Anne Rice believed that Vampires are the ultimate metaphor for being an outsider, which I am now going to refer to as the Philosophical "other." Lestat, like many vampires in the series, seems to believe that the gift of death is the great equalizer. We do see, however, that that is blatantly untrue. Consider the great laws, and consider the race of the characters.

Now Lestat logically understands the racism pointed at Louis, but once he turns Louis he considers it part of the performance. Louis is now a higher being, he is above that. Lestat is unable to recognize that Louis is still "other" in ways he his not. Louis is gay, Louis is black, Louis has depression. This also affects Claudia. Claudia is a child (disabled), Claudia is black. Claudia is a woman. They have more layers (intersections, if you will) of "other" than Lestat has, who only has the additional "Lestat is Bi/Pan" which is able to pass more easily in society anyway. So if you are asking "is Lestat racist?" Yes, but because he thinks that the "other" of Vampirism trumps all the rest of the "other." Racism is a mortal problem, not a Vampire one.

And isn't it fitting that the next time he needs to be available, he's going to be a campy rockstar? Dramatic clown (affectionate).

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 44

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: The Ruins Of Desire.

Notes: Btw, sorry about the unupdated masterlist. I keep bumping into a strange limit that tumblr set and will have to fix it somehow.

!!!Special Warnings for this chapter: Contains a brief spicy(?) part.

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  44/47

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You had to search the castle grounds for Lancelot, finding him only when thinking of what could bring him some comfort. In the stables he stood by Goliath, brushing the horse’s coat with some straw. He seemed not too happy to see that you had found him, preferring to have been left alone.

You kept some distance. “She could have killed you.”

It did not sit well with you at all that he had handed over his sword and was prepared to die if the Fey had chosen it as his fate. It hurt.

His tone was distant and bordered on being dismissive. “I needed to know what I was facing. If they wished to see me dead, I prefer to know it instead of spending every hour of the day looking over my shoulder.”

You shook your head, feeling a pinch of anger at how he had put himself at such risk. “And if she had killed you, I would have had to watch it happen.”

His response was colder, “You should have stayed outside the room, as I suggested.”

It was obvious he was trying to push you away, to wallow in his remorse alone. But you could be as persistent as he was.

Your anger spilled out as you spoke, “Forgive me for loving you so much that I wasn’t going to let you walk in there alone. I am sorry for believing that you cared enough about us to not put yourself willingly at the risk of death. Next time I should just close my eyes and ignore how simple it is for you to put down your life like you have nothing to fight for!”

He was taken aback by the outburst. “You do not understand.”

You took a few steps closer. “I understand perfectly. You were raised to believe that suffering will ultimately bring salvation, and so you seek it out to try and silence the guilt you feel.”

His gaze dropped to the ground at your feet, letting you know your assumption was correct.

You came to a halt right in front of him. “You can let your remorse destroy you. Or you can show the same dedication to helping the Fey that you showed to the scriptures. The only true salvation for any of us is to find peace within ourselves.”

He moved past you slowly, taking seat atop a bale of hay. Head in his hands tilted towards the ground. “I never meant to cause you distress. I… it is hard for me to believe that there could be a day when I no longer feel that I must apologize for merely breathing.”

“That day will come. I promise you that.” You sat down beside him. “I fear for you, Lancelot. And I cannot stand to see how you believe you deserve pain more than you deserve all else.”

He remained silent, lost in the storm that threatened to take over his thoughts once more. What had been said to him by that woman had devastated him, tore right into his being and struck his weakest spot.

You rubbed his back for a while, aiming to comfort the pain under the surface. “I’m sorry for getting angry. It just scared me to death to see it happen.”

He sat up more, taking your hand in his. “I believe I would have responded much the same way.”

Gently you touched the red mark on his cheek that the slap had caused, softly you brushed your lips to the spot. He exhaled unsteadily, tilting his head just a little to brush his nose over yours. When you leaned back a little, he was quick to copy what you had done. His lips came to your cheek, hand cupping your other and brushing his thumb over it. He lingered and you heard the whispers of the Hidden before your markings rose to the surface. Quickly you put a hand on his chest to push him back just a little.

“How did you do that?” You were stunned.

He cocked a brow. “Do what?”

You didn’t believe that he had not just used his connection to the Hidden to lure your markings to the surface. “You made my markings appear…”

There was a timid look in his eyes, one he tried to hide by tilting his head down a bit. “I did not think that the Hidden would listen to my wish so well.”

You tilted your head down as well, still having to get used to the fact that you didn’t need to hide them.

He brought his lips to your other cheek, kissing the other mark. Whispering against it, “I love them. They bring out your eyes.”

You were undeniably flustered and failed to make proper eye-contact. Your markings slowly hid back under your skin when he let go of you.

He stood up, letting out a deep breath. “I am going to see if Arthur needs someone to come along to the village.”

By the look he shared, it was clear that he hoped to get out of the castle for a moment to clear his head and hoping you’d understand.

“A good idea.” you said.

“I will see you tonight then? At supper?” He was hopeful.

You rose from the hay, stepping closer to him. “Of course.”

The light in his eyes had not yet fully returned and still he mustered up a small smile just for you. He gave your hand a light squeeze before walking out of the stables.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Rain descended down upon Lancelot’s head and by the sight of the sky he could tell that if the group did not find shelter soon, they would arrive back at the castle in soaked clothes.

It was Arthur’s idea to seek shelter in the inn of the village. Kaze had been more determined to just ride back to the fort in the gushing rain but fortunately Gareth had carefully convinced her not to. It came as no surprise to Lancelot that ale would be part of the evening once those of Red’s crew stepped into the inn.

He kept himself a little away from the others at the large table, a wise idea as the crew had a tendency to spill ale all over the place and some of it got awfully close to his sleeve as his arm rested on the table. One of the crew proved foolishly brave to try and charm Kaze by trying to lean a little closer to her, he prevented this amicable evening from turning into a blood bath by making the man sit upright again and away from Kaze who looked seconds away from murder. It was perhaps a small thing, but he could have sworn she looked appreciative of his interference.

Arthur took a moment to compliment everyone on being able to work together well enough to build a new future for the Fey.

“We couldn’t have done it without the Ash Man’s help.” Gareth surprisingly pointed out between sips of ale.

Lancelot almost stared at him, a mistake as he could see the gears in Gareth’s head start to turn.

“That is true.” Arthur concurred, looking at him. “If you hadn’t broken that curse, we would still have been looking for a place to live and those are sown thin in the land these days.”

He barely knew how to respond to the acknowledgment. “I did what had to be done.”

Gareth chuckled. “Don’t be so modest. Say, now that we are among men-” Kaze send him a glare and he corrected himself, “-and Kaze of course, mind if we speak more freely?”

“I mind.” he deadpanned, sensing where this was heading.

Gareth retorted, “Oh come on, Lancelot. We’re all curious here about you.”

“I’m not.” Kaze chimed in coolly.

Arthur sided with Gareth on this. “I can’t say that I’m not just a little curious to hear what it’s like to have been a monk.”

“Indeed.” Gareth said. “Go on. What was the clergy like for you?”

Lancelot leaned back against his chair, trying not to show that it bothered him to be put in the center of attention by the group. “It was strict.”

Arthur poked further, “Strict? You mean the rules you had to follow? No sinning, no ale too?”

He gave a nod. “Yes. But there was more. We followed orders as soldiers would, or faced the consequences of refusing.”

Gareth went ahead and ruined his mood. “And there is the vow of celibacy as well.”

“He’s married.” Arthur pointed out.

Gareth stuck his nose in matters that were not his. “To the Church a marriage is only valid if it was consummated. Ask any of the clergy and they will tell you the same. So our friend here must have some story he can share with us about the first time he indulged in the desires of the flesh.”

Lancelot sat frozen, hoping his eyes or expression gave nothing away to the rest of the table.

An unconsummated marriage was indeed not considered a valid one by many. It had not bothered him until now, now that they could claim it as invalid if they knew.

Arthur very carefully inquired, “Was your wife the first?”

His tensed up, refusing to meet any of the curious eyes staring at him. “I believe that is none of your concern.”

Arthur knew right away not to press on, he had heard the warning in the Ash Man’s tone. But the one who had annoyed Kaze earlier, now decided to annoy him.

The man sounded lighthearted. “He doesn’t want to tell us, doesn’t want us to tell her he’s probably had a dozen before her.” He nudged him with his elbow. “Maybe she’s had a dozen of her own, eh? Nothing wrong with that-”

Lancelot rose from the chair, seeing how half the table flinched in response. His jaw was set, amicably or not he would not let his intimate affairs be used as a topic of conversation among the group.

Kaze sensed his anger and to his surprise she got up as well. “We head back now. Before the rain returns.”

It was not up for debate, they could tell. Lancelot gave her a discreet grateful nod. He ignored how they mumbled amongst each other while avoiding all eye-contact with him as they got up and went towards the exit of the inn.

Arthur however proved less cowardly. “I’m sorry, Lancelot. I was not asking to make you uncomfortable. You’ve just lived such a different life from mine and I was curious.”

The apology calmed him down only because he could tell that it was genuine. “I believe you. But you must understand that I do not find it proper to speak of these matters like this.”

“Because it’s a sin?” Arthur wondered.

“No.” He almost rolled his eyes. “Because it is not proper.”

Arthur held his hands up in defeat but did manage to smile. “Fine then. Keep your secrets.”

The Manblood kept smiling, even under the Ash Man’s glare.

If only they knew the turmoil they had caused him by reminding him what a lack of consummation meant for a marriage. He did not want to keep thinking about it, but it had set it’s claws in him. No wedding, no vows, a ring that took far too long to be placed on your finger, and now this….

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Supper came. Supper passed. Your will to eat had been absent just like Lancelot was. Even Gawain was starting to get nervous by the time passing without a sign of Arthur, Lancelot, Kaze, Gareth and the few of Red’s crew that had gone with them. Perhaps they had sought shelter from the rain for a while somewhere, perhaps that was why they were so late. Or maybe they had run into thieves again and they were in trouble. You had voiced your concerns to the Green Knight.

    ~“Try not to be alarmed yet. We will wait a little longer and if they have not returned then we will go and search for them.”~

    But you were too worried to keep waiting, the sun had gone down already. You went to the stables to ready Bear for the ride. A sound coming from outside halted you, it sounded like… singing? You went outside and felt relief wash over you at the sight of Lancelot and the others returning. Those of Red’s crew were singing some sea shanty that could wake the whole castle from it’s beginning slumber and Arthur was participating, it only stopped when Kaze told them, not so politely, to keep quiet.

“You have been singing since we set foot in that inn.” Lancelot remarked to one of them who grumbled something unkind about her that Kaze was unable to hear. “Our ears are pleading for rest from it.”

You were walking up to them, locking eyes on Lancelot who looked content to be back. You watched as he reached down and caught your hand just as it reached up for him. “Did you run into trouble?”

His mood seemed a little better. “None at all. Arthur decided we shelter at the inn and waited for the rain to pass or lessen.”

You tried to figure out if the change in his mood had something to do with that. “Ah, enjoyed some ale?”

He scoffed a little. “They enjoyed it. I found that the taste resembles that of a polluted river.”

You whispered up at him, scolding him for his bluntness. “We can’t all be so fortunate to drink the Church’s wine.”

The others went on towards the stables, while he had come to a halt. With a mischievous smirk he gave your hand a little tug.

“Mount.” he said.

You let him help you up to be seated in front of him. “Why put me on your horse so close to the stables?”

He hummed amused. “I could ride into the stables, or I could take you away into the woods.”

Boldly his hand glided down from your hip to curve around your thigh, there was a blatant attempt to slide it further to touch your rear. You turned to look at his face, taking a whiff to see if he was truly not influenced by ale. The scent was there but it was very, very vague and almost faded. Some could have just spilled on him, or the scent of the ale in the inn lingered on his clothes.

He knew that discreet way of smelling a person but all too well. “I must say that I find it quite exciting to see you smell me. Once, I caught you smelling my clothes, do you remember that time? Even though I could not show it, it exhilarated me to see how you looked so tempted by the scent of me.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, especially because he had said it in the deeper tone he could reach. “I remember. You were still a monk back then, you had to behave.”

He put his chin on your shoulder. “It was difficult to behave proper when I saw how aroused your eyes looked back at me just from my scent.”

You got very quiet. He seemed different tonight, bolder, braver. His breath ghosted hotly against the side of your neck.

Your voice was only a whisper, “Are you aware of how lustful you behave now?”

He flashed that boyish smile, but this time his eyes were less innocent. “I am aware.”

“Did that ‘polluted river water’ cause you to speak like this?” you jested nervously.

He was quick to respond, “No. The sight of my lovely wife does.”

To his dismay, Gawain was approaching, coming straight towards the two of you. You heard him sigh behind you when you dismounted from Goliath.

He dismounted as well, offering the reins of Goliath. “Could you bring him to the stables for me?”

You could tell that Gawain was there to talk to him. “Of course.”

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Not much later, you were preparing for bed. Just as you had taken off and put down your bodice, Lancelot entered your shared room.

He took off his cloak and put it down on the dresser, then spoke to you whilst he took off his weapons belts. “Gawain informed me that there is a blacksmith among the Fey who arrived here. We will attempt to use the forge soon. According to Merlin we may never forge a weapon like the sword, but we will be able to forge weapons of great strength.”

You stepped closer. “That’s good, is it not? And we can make armor.”

Carefully he put down the sword against the dresser. Nodding. “We are in great need of good armor. And in even greater need of people who know how to fight, especially now that Gawain wishes to continue seeking Fey who are forced to flee their homes.”

You hummed. “Gareth once told me that Gawain searched for the Fey to take them to safety. It is no surprise that he wishes to continue that noble cause.”

He tried not to show that it caused him stress. “A noble cause that we can only continue if we have enough people to do so. This fort needs to be guarded, the lands surrounding us must be kept under watch as well. These searches for Fey can only continue if we have enough people helping us.”

You sensed his concern. “I am certain that those who have arrived will wish to help. The Fey will stand together. Surely some must know how to wield a sword or other weapon.”

He turned to you. “There is something I must tell you. Gawain has requested that I will guide the Fey in the skill of battle. He hopes I can show them how to defend themselves and how to stand their ground in a battle.”

“And what did you tell him?” you asked.

He walked past you to the wash basin, splashing some water in his face. “I gave him my word that I would take on the task if the Fey allow me to.”

It was a big step forward for him, a chance to find his place among his people. You were glad to hear it. “You fear they will not?”

“I have my doubt,” he admitted.

“All will be well.” You went up to him, giving some encouragement whilst reaching around him. Your arms wrapped around his low abdomen to hold him close while you placed your head to rest against his back. “I have faith in you.”

Instantly he straightened his back and stretched his neck. A shudder went through him and he couldn’t help but smile that charming smile. Then he blurted out, “He knighted me.”

You spoke against his back, “What?… Who? Gawain?”

He gave a nod. “Yes. For saving Percival. For my desire to protect the Fey… I am not certain I deserve the honor.”

You let go of him when he turned to face you. “Who are we to argue with a knight on that, hm? I think Gawain made a good decision.”

He went towards the bed, sitting down on the edge of it. “It is just all so much. Everyone is putting their faith in me and I fear failing them.”

You could see his eyes grow distant, his thoughts lost in the war of his conscience. Without a word, you approached and began to help him out of his jerkin. He glanced up at your face, at how focused and patient you were with the belts that held his jerkin shut.

“I know you are afraid.” You gently took the leather off of him. “It’s normal to be worried when faced with such responsibilities. But I know you, Lancelot. I know that you are a very capable man and Gawain knows this too. A lot has happened. Much has changed for you, it’s normal to be overwhelmed, your whole life is different. Just know that you’re not alone in this. You saw how even Percival ran over to protect you.”

His eyes locked on yours, a nod. “Thank you. For listening.” A bitter chuckle fell from him. “When I tried to speak to Father about my concerns or problems he just dismissed them.”

You gave his chest a playful pat. “I won’t dismiss my husband.”

“Oh?” A tempting smile grew upon his lips.

You crawled onto the bed, taking place behind him to massage the tension out of his shoulders. He leaned into the touch instantly. You gently kneaded at his shoulders, easing the tension in them. His eyes fell shut, his breathing slowed down.

He loved your gentle touch, the warmth of your hands tending to the muscles that were suffering under the strain of the work he had done. But it was new even for him that such an innocent caring touch could awaken not so innocent desires.

Suddenly he let out a sound that you mistakenly believed to be from discomfort. Your hands halted immediately. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Do you want me to put some salve on your scars again?”

His answer came delayed. “I won’t decline that offer.”

It took you only a few seconds to dart for your satchel, the healers had been generous to supply everyone with some medicinal items. You bit back a grin when he took off his shirt without a word from you. The salve smelled quite good, a faint flowery smell. He did not wince once as you smeared it onto his back.

His thoughts trailed back to earlier. “In the inn tonight, none of them treated me as the ‘Weeping Monk’. I never thought it could be like this.”

“I’m glad to see that you and Arthur did not kill each other.” you said. “What did you talk about?”

Conversation, that did not include strategy for battle, was still a point he needed to work on. “I do not want to upset you.”

You went to sit beside him and put down the bowl of salve on the nightstand, trying not to jump to bad conclusions. “Lancelot.”

He weighed his words. “Some were curious about our marriage. They had questions and I believe the ale made them brave enough to ask them.”

Your eyes narrowed at how uncomfortable he was beginning to sound. “What sort of questions?”

He began to fidget with his hands, a tell-tale sign that he was struggling to find the right way to say it. “They asked if you were the first… and about the consummation. Among other matters.”

You winced, realizing how uneasy he must have felt to have been questioned about it. Your voice grew quiet, “What did you tell them?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

He glanced over at you. “Why should I speak of such intimate matters with others? I do not know if I can trust them with it.”

It was no surprise that he wouldn’t let others pressure him into answering questions he did not want to answer. But still, you got the feeling that it bothered him.

You caressed his shoulder. “What is it? There is something bothering you, I can see it.”

“It’s nothing.” he said, shutting the door to the truth.

You wouldn’t push him for an answer when he was clearly not feeling at ease about the topic. “Alright, well… If you don’t mind I will finish washing up so I don’t ruin our clean sheets already.”

He chuckled at that. “Ruin…”

You kicked off your boots and went up to the wash basin, grabbing one of the rags to use. “You know what I mean.”

Seeing you take your boots off reminded him to take his own off too. After that he got up from the bed, eyes glued to the way the wet rag moved over your neck.

You had hoped to wash thoroughly, but there was no opportunity for privacy in the room and you didn’t want to create an uncomfortable situation for him to be in again. So you tried to wash properly without taking your shirt or trousers off. It felt odd to still feel uncertain about these matters, to have to blindly search were the line was for him so you didn’t accidentally do something he wasn’t ready to experience yet. He approached and nearly fell over your boots, kicking them aside to prevent an accident. You gave him an apologetic sheepish smile for it.

He came up behind you, snaked his arms around you, kissing your shoulder before resting his head on it, not bothering to hide that he was inhaling deeply.

“Are you smelling me?” You couldn’t ignore it.

There was no shame in him about it anymore. “We both know how strong that urge is in our kind.”

You rinsed the rag in the washbasin to continue using it. “If I smell like sweat, it is because I am not able to wash properly.”

“Why not?” he asked.

It was part a jest and part honesty, “I don’t know how you would respond seeing me half-bare all of a sudden. Don’t want you to face the fear of damnation so late in the day.”

By the look on his face, he saw right through the jest. He stole the damp rag from your hand. “There is a solution.”

He didn’t turn you around. You felt him snake his hand under the back of your shirt, the rag came into contact with your bare back.

“We can compromise.” He whispered close to your temple, “If you are so kind to protect my soul, I will be kind and protect your modesty.”

You couldn’t form words when he began to basically wash you at the washbasin, steering your arms to make it easier for him. It didn’t end at your back, no, he continued at your lower abdomen and worked his way up. Well, late in the evening or not, this Ash Man was not so protective of his soul. He spend more attention to your bosom than a wash truly needed. That gentleness, the braveness combined with timidness, he was such a mixture of everything that you had to think of other things before it would leave you with pent up desire.

He was still learning of course, but he was very much pretending not to be aware of what this was causing. “Do you like this?”

He gingerly moved the rag under your breast and cupped you with only some of the rag between his palm and your skin.

“You’re practically fondling me.” It was a statement.

True. It was quite erotic to him to feel your damp skin, the shape of your breast… He would let his soul burn to experience this intimate moment.

He hummed, unable to deny the truth of what he was doing. But he continued the task you had tried to spare his eyes from, he turned it into a pleasant bonding moment and traced his lips slowly over your neck.

He did not have to see anything, feeling was enough, hearing your breathing stutter. All he saw was your flustered expression, a certain timidness and innocence that made you evade his gaze. On purpose he breathed out near your ear and felt you shiver. The haze of lust had descended upon him and made him bolder.

He slowly sank his hand into the front of your trousers, moving the rag right down between your legs and teasing it over you. “You respond so well to my ‘fondling’.”

You grabbed hold on his arm around you. “Practising, are you?”

He changed the angle and moved the rag more into you, increasing the friction with a purpose in mind. “I find it very rewarding to see the results of my dedicated practise with the guidance from a willing tutor.”

You jolted at the stimulation it caused. “Lancelot-”

“You asked me what was bothering me.” His mouth grazed your earlobe. “It bothers me how I have failed to consummate our marriage, to many it would mean the marriage is void.”

The puzzle fell into place. Realization hit. “Is that what they told you in the inn?”

“Gareth was right to bring it to my attention.” His lips touched your temple. “Now I can rectify the situation.”

Rectify… as if it was wrong… and now after some foolish remark he wanted to…

“No.” You squirmed out of his hold, stepping away from him.

He looked so lost, as if your response had pushed him onto a frozen lake with ice breaking all around him. “What have I done?”

“You were trying to bed me tonight… that is why you’re doing this… why you acted the way you did upon your return…” It all fell into place and became clear. “You’re doing this because Gareth told you that our marriage would not be true without a consummation?”

His mouth fell slightly open, quickly he put the rag down and tried to step closer only to stop when you held up a hand to halt him. “That is not…”

You saw him falter and fall quiet. “I do not want to sleep with you if you’re only doing it because some idiot is trying to make you believe it is the ‘right’ thing to do.” You held your hand up, showing him the ring around your finger. “We are wed, Lancelot. Having to consummate for a marriage to be valid is in the scriptures… isn’t it?”

He couldn’t even make eye-contact. It had not just been Gareth’s stupid remark… it was also the scriptures still attempting to seize control over his life.

“You would have regretted it.” you quietly said. It took him a moment to reply and you felt ill at the thought that he felt he needed to rush himself. “I’d never forgive myself if I’d sleep with you and you’re pushing yourself to do it.”

He heard the emotion threaten to overtake your voice, and as you went to pass him to go towards what he feared to be the door, he caught you by the elbow. “I would never regret it.”

There was a hint of anger in his tone, as if it had insulted him to insinuate it. Instinctively you send him the same frustrated glare back.

He did not let go, no, with a tug he got you so close your elbow bumped into his chest. “It is true that the scriptures demand a marriage be consummated to be valid. But we have proven that to be a lie too, have we not?” His eyes pierced into yours. “It is not Gareth’s foolery, nor the scriptures, that makes me long to lay with you!”

It was said so loud that you feared those in the rooms nearby had heard. “Will you please keep your voice down?!”

He let go, letting you slip through his fingers, watching as you paced the room a little. You were trying to find something to look busy, something to focus on to not crumble under the intensity of his eyes on you. You found your distraction in the form of lighting a candle on the nightstand with the one that was on the dresser.

He had gotten closer again, lightly brushing his hand over your back to try and have your attention back. You turned around to face him, hating how the mood had so suddenly turned.

He cupped your face, wishing to chase away the sadness in your eyes. “You were right to reject me when uncertain of my true thoughts regarding it.”

You did understand the reason behind his trail of thought. “I know you struggle to accept that we didn’t have a choice and that we lost out on everything regarding our wedding. But I love you, and as long as you love me than it doesn’t matter whether we consummate or not. You are my husband, you will always be my husband.”

You blinked, and then his lips were on yours. With no warning they seized control over you, promising you everything you could wish for and soothing every buried fear. He was as gentle as he could still be when kissing with a fiery passion that almost keeled you over.

He parted from your lips but did not stray far. “Allow me to be forward then. Even if we had not been wed, I still would have asked to lay with you tonight.”

There was not a speck of doubt in you that he meant it, it was in his eyes. His thumb brushed over your mouth as you drew in a breath of air.

Your voice got sultry, “But then I would ruin you and your virtuous reputation.”

The warning was meant to make him think it all through again, but all it did was make him oh so terribly curious.

“Ruin?” His voice reached a deeper timbre, “You already made a ruin of me.”

A shiver ran down your spine, he moved you closer against him.

“You tore down everything I had build.” he said, growing more and more intense. “And I let you. I have let you destroy it all because you gave me something better.”

Your eyes spoke the question that your lips could not form now that he was so close.

“Ruin me.” He breathed into your ear. “Be my wife and ruin me.”

With trembling hands you cupped his face, drawing the pads of your thumbs down his markings. Your voice was but a whisper, “Do you truly want this?”

He cupped the back of your head, leaning in to graze his nose against yours. “I do.”

Never before had his eyes seem so warm, so intensely blue that it put the heavens to shame. It was your gaze falling from his eyes to his lips that sealed your fate, the second he saw it he slowly began to kiss the side of your head and trailed over to your temple and cheek. It was meant to tempt and you weakened at the mercy of his affections.

“Lancelot…” your heart was hammering away.

His arm came around you, reeling you in against him. With the patience learned from a former life, he seduced you with touch, scent and sound. His mouth brushed to your neck, leaving behind a ghostly presence that made you wish for it’s return.

He spoke into your ear, gentle as he could, “Will you have me tonight?”

The answer fell so effortlessly from your lips now, “Make me yours.”

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[clownfishbites]

Ok it’s time for the St Augustine Joker meta. Sorry if it got a bit long I just have a lot of thoughts.

I find it so interesting that he would bring up St Augustine in that moment. I wasn’t a huge fan of the run in general but I thought it had its merits and this bit was one of them because I’m a sucker for batjokes that is also religious fanaticism.

For St Augustine, ‘grace’ in this sense is not something that needs to be found or earned, the Catholic doctrine states that it is given freely, a gift from God to mankind.

Batman gives Joker grace when nobody in the entire world will, I mentioned it a bit in my last meta but think Batman: Cacophony, Batman: It's Joker time, Batman: Devil's Advocate and literally every time he doesn't kill him, or protects him from harm when nobody else would. He is giving him grace that does not have to be earned, it's a benevolent gift from the divine. Or at least that's how Joker is seeing it, a rationalisation for why Batman spares him when nobody else would.

St Augustine tells God that "it is only by Your grace and mercy that You have melted away the ice of my evil". St Augustine needs God in the same way Joker needs Batman, to act in opposition to his 'evil', to be worshipped with the intention of being the gravity that keeps him on Earth, or in his own words, the compass pointing true north.

I'm not going to get too carried away but I think it's a pretty interesting comparison that's existing here between St Augustine and God, and Joker and Batman.

"head towards God and remember, everything else is chaos"

If Batman is the entity that is salvation, the thing to be drawn to- he isn't just the opposite force, but the only other thing in existence, because Joker defines himself as chaos. There is Divinity and Chaos and that is all. It's a nice lens on Joker's perspective that every other living thing is a prop in his pursuit of Batman's love and attention.

Religion is a choice, but how could Joker pick any other divinity, when he freely acknowledges that Batman is his creator. One of St Augustine's concepts surrounding human creation is that of original sin- that being that everybody is born with sin, born tainted ever since Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden of Eden.

But if everyone is born tainted, lives tainted and there is no real assurance of redemption, what actually is the point in trying to be good, to be a virtuous person, if someone like the Joker can just come into the church and take your life. Or from the pov of the Joker what is the point in any of it if we are born ruined.

We return to the idea that Joker sees himself as beyond salvation in the traditional sense, he's in a sunk cost fallacy but with being evil. But just to push this to it's limit, his very existence shakes faith in a creator that is all good,

Where is the grace of God in a world that allowed him to exist?

In the absence of divine light and a creator that loves him, he desperately seeks the opposite, divine darkness and a creator that hates him. But Joker loves him no less for it because Batman is all that exists in his world.

"head towards love and everything else is chaos"

Here he's changed the words of St Augustine, altering it from following God to following love, and he says this while heading towards Batman which is...basically the entire point of this, Batman is his love, Batman is his divinity.

But even Batman has to devote himself to an idea bigger than himself, and he can only stand in opposition, his crusade would be over if he truly cleansed Gotham of all evil- OR, as Joker suggests in this comic, if he became happy. If he didn't have to exist in opposition, if the misery that fuelled his crusade was taken away

Joker can only stand in opposition too- we know this because we see how completely he crumbles apart when his opposition is removed.

Batman functionally exists as half of a whole, in his own way Joker's speech is confronting this reality, albeit in a much more roundabout way than he explains it to Selina.

And this is why neither of them can ever truly escape this cycle, their aspect of devotion would die the moment the other was removed from the equation, and with it divinity and chaos would cease to exist, and so would the world.

I love cosmic batjokes.