#stuck in episodes with nothing to do and no lines given

[mad-as-a-box-of-frogs]

So, you really like the rain?

Mary Winchester in Let the Good Times Roll (13x23): Best of SPN Ladies [409/?]

[moth-scrunk]

I have realized somehing with the news of a possible Farmer Vic. I looked back at “The Box” episode, and rewatched a specific scene.

The lasso scene. I never really considered it, but Vic knows how to use that lasso very, very well. During the scene, we as the audience see this as a callback to the first episode Victim was introduced into. The video that showed him and his clone using the different tools to fight against their creator.

But this is very different with the context of how GOOD Victim is at using the lasso tool. He didn’t just learn to use it, he learned to master it. He snagged Chosen out of the air-

-and then brought him in. Closing the distance, pulling on the rope until-

-he tugged on the end and brought Chosen straight to him.

To anyone, this was a clear message to Vic’s capabilities with working with tools, but what stood out to me was the scene that happens immediately after.

Chosen starts attempting to flee from Vic, dazed and already pinned, and Victim?

.. He cracks the whip, showing his strength behind the hit, the anger. The camera then slowly zooms in on Chosen-

Its this slow, subtle rise in music that we suddenly understand what’s going on. Chosen knows who this is now, Chosen suddenly remembers exactly who this is.

Everyone has been joking about how Farmer Vic’s home is about to get nuked by fire in the next AVA drop, but if that is the context: Everything lines up.

Victim having a reason to hurt Chosen, Chosen not even remembering who Victim is despite destroying his home, Victim’s cold reaction to seeing the Dark Lord getting nuked by Second(Orange) in the scene where it shows his death.

Everything suddenly makes sense. Victim isn’t just attacking Chosen because he can.

Victim isn’t just getting his revenge on Alan.

He is shaming the god who hurt his friends. The animals, the sticks who took Victim in upon his first fall down to the lands he’s now stuck in.

He was casted by his god to die, but was saved by strangers. He was given a home with cattle and lamb, given food and comfort. For once in his life he was safe and free from pain.

Then Chosen and Dark came along, born from the same god that had casted Victim aside. The same god who now unwilling unleashed hell upon the lands.

Victim would have watched his new friends and family burn. He could have watched the horror happen right in front of him. He hates the hollows for what they did, reminding him of his past creator, of his past in general. Filled with grief and sorrows he wished to swallow down, but instead was forced to live with.

So he hatched a plan, one to be seen by us, but in my opinion? He’s already succeeded in half of his plan.

He has humiliated the so-called “God” “, “The Chosen One”, and “The Dark Lord” is dead. Two threats now no longer threats. Now all he needs to do is reach Alan.

.. but then what? What happens when the smoke clears, when Alan is gone? Will he return to his life before? Will he try to leave behind his men and venture on to finally find his peace? Will he feel complete or content with his decisions?

Will he finally feel okay to grieve? To cry for what he has lost? To hold the remains of what was his first real life? Will he feel remorseful to those he hurt along the way? Will he ever say sorry or forgive any who hurt him?

If you ask me, no. I don’t think he ever will say sorry or forgive anyone, and he has a right to. He was born to be nothing more then a Victim to other’s crimes. He was born to be nothing more then a Victim to other’s wrath. He never deserved to be hurt, he never deserved to be tormented by a god that should have loved him.

Victim deserved to be happy. He deserved to have friends, play games, venture to new lands, see the beauty of life and enjoy it. He deserved to be held as he cried, hugged closely when scared, and protected when threatened.

Victim, Vic, deserved to live, and not suffer.

but because of Alan’s actions, because of Dark and Chosen’s actions, he does.

and now it’s no longer Vic who’s becoming the Victim.

[impactrueno]

(thread i posted on twitter copypaste)

i think musical bj and lydia have the most interesting dynamic of the three…they go toe to toe, seem to be in perfect sync without even trying, she managed to turn his marriage threat on its head by tricking HIM back, and then a mini redemption arc? we love to see it but this also means it's hard for me to think of interesting things for them, because they already said everything that needed to be said in the musical. perfect closure too. what else is there even to tell?

thinking about this again since i've been rewatching the musical over and over. the emotional resolution and closure they had was so satisfying after offering what is probably the best (subjectively) and most balanced (objectively) dynamic of the three iterations

over at tumblr i've been talking about how cartoon bj and lydia's friendship isn't as perfect as it seems, especially in the later episodes. it's so sad to see but i'm also invested in their potential downfall and how that would go down…it's interesting to think about

but hey at least they're not movie bj and lydia lol. what….a mess of a dynamic those two have now with the sequel. it could've been handled so much better. they obviously wanted us to root for bj a little in this one, but the cool things he does amount to nothing, pretty much.

feels weird sympathizing with THIS beetleguy of all three but wow not even a reluctant "thanks i guess" or anything? idk feels like something was missing there. just one of the many things that feel like they're setting up for a third installment

thinking so hard about this because when i write them i gotta think about their motivations, feelings and why they feel that way, etc and bj saving astrid's life and exposing rory as a fraud and abuser (in an incredibly satisfying way) definitely tipped the scales in his favor.

so i'm still figuring out how lydia would feel about all that. i have this scene stuck in my head of her and astrid talking about bj. and astrid, who's really only seen him do good things, goes "…really mom?" and now i'm going "welp she's kinda got a point, lydia" NOW WHAT.

if i were in her shoes, me personally, that would've won me over or at the VERY least i would've forgiven him since he made up for the bad stuff. and i keep seeing people who feel the same way… then again, the ending does show he's still messing with her so idk. mixed feelings

trying my hardest to work with what canon gave us if you couldn't tell lol. sloppy as it was. i will try to make sense of it so i can do my stupid little comics

i guess at least she let him down easy lmao. as sarcastic her "look i'm sorry things didn't work out between us but the 600 year gap is a little much for me" line was. but he's not gonna give up that easily, is he? of course not. he's beetlejuice. he's gonna be annoying forever.

none of this would be such an issue if they had given them more screentime together to let their dynamic cook a bit and actually see how they get along 😑 hmph

anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk im done now

[classicanalyzer]

Skeleton Crew - Can’t Say I Remember No At Attin Thoughts

"Perhaps someday, when I am leader of the Triok, I will remember your ways. I see now. You weakness...it makes you kind. And my world could use some kindness." Hayna

This was a pretty noice follow-up to the last episode. It was a lot more focused on the character interactions as home seems to be ever far away.

Those satellites at the opening look very much like the ones used for Operation Cinder. Given some of the Imperial-looking uniforms (especially the Imperial Army Trooper helmets) in the episode and the destruction of the world, I wouldn't be surprised if that's the case. But Jesus, if their world was destroyed by Operation Cinder, that's one hell of a dark backstory for At Achrann. Especially given how Jod even said,

"This is At Attin? It tastes like ashy dust. Looks a lot like my home planet, actually." Jod Na Nawood

It has to be Operation Cinder unless the satellites are part of a similar barrier system (or the world could've been hidden by different methods). I also wonder how bad Jod's world must've been for him to make that comparison. I can't wait for that Episode 7 Jod lore.

Jod's "kill me" look and line delivery just killed me. He's so sick of this BS now lmao. I honestly thought he and SM-33 kicked all their asses but it just turned out he just gave them Old Republic credits haha.

Also very interesting that the Hattan army seems to have a CIS tank as well alongside the Imperial Army Trooper helmets. The world must've been destroyed and known to the galaxy for quite for some time by that point.

Neel is pretty brutally honest about his friends, lmao. I love seeing his kindness shine through in such a hellish, war-torn world. I also like seeing his brief friendship and relationship with Hayna, who only knew war and nothing of a possible peaceful life. Plus unlike the girl he had a crush on in Episode 1, she actually knows who he is. Given how Episode 3 focused a lot on KB and this episode on Neel, I wonder if Episode 5 will focus on Fern and Episode 6 will focus on Wim.

It's pretty sad how the Triok and Hattan are stuck in a forever war and only trading for weapons, especially given the implications of the world being a victim of Operation Cinder. The idea of child soldiers being normalized in the world is pretty disturbing much less how desertion is met with death even applied to kids. I still find it insane to see on-screen aftermath of Operation Cinder in this episode, especially on this show.

I also like how we see that for all of Fern's tough front, and she's just as scared of being truly lost forever.

SM-33 continues to be a comedic riot even when we see him being terrifying. God, when SM-33 was remembering his old Captain's orders and his voice started distorting into a nightmarish tone, that was pretty chilling. I would like it if the treasure was actually a legit stereotypical pirate's treasure.

This was a noice follow-up episode and I hope Episode 5 continues to expand on the mystery of At Attin.

"I do remember At Attin. It was in this very room. The captain killed any of his crew that saw the coordinates to At Attin. Slaughtered them, he did. Then he ordered me to destroy them and forget everything I knew about At Attin. And then he told me, if anyone ever comes around poking around, looking for the treasure... He told me to pull them apart. Pull 'em apart. Pull 'em apart. Pull 'em apart. Limb from limb. Limb from limb. Limb from limb! Limb from limb! Limb from limb! Limb from Limb." SM-33

[sweetbillwriting]

The Key To His Heart - VIII

Characters: AU Bill Skarsgård where his life changes in 2013 and later 2019.

Setting: L.A, 2024 but in an alternative universe with Bill having a completely different life.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Bill sat on one of the couches in the living room, leaned back with closed eyes, and sighed a third time. Opposite him sat Herman, who chewed his lips. None of them had so much to say now that they had talked with Sandra. She refused to go silent and threatened to tell all of the girls about him and Sienna. If she did, Bill wondered how much he would be forced to pay for a broken contract. The producers had been nice to him, given him a chance to fix it all, but if he didn't, the contract would be followed.

“You must talk to her,” said Herman, causing Bill to look up. Bill furrowed his brows.

“No? I can't do that. She hates me; I will just make it worse!”

“I think she would listen more to you, you know, because she can see you're in love and doesn’t want to come between two lovers.”

Bill scoffed and shook his head.

“That's a nice thought, but it isn't realistic. She is too mad to pick ‘the side of love.’”

Herman sighed.

“Precious will continue to talk to her then. Tonight at the ceremony, two will leave. Do you know which ones you want to leave?”

Bill shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

“You can choose.”

Herman wasn't surprised that Bill was so indifferent to it all because in his head the game was already over, and he knew what girl would get the last key. Herman wasn't even surprised that was how it all unfolded. He had known from the start Bill didn't really fit the TV concept but was too high on the thought of a fairly known name being a part of the show, but now it bit him in the ass. Bill was never there to do TV, and those rules would always play second to him. He looked at his friend pulling up his phone from his jean pocket and saw a light pull in the corner of his mouth. Herman smiled a little too, because it was obvious Bill had gotten smitten with the girl so fast.

×××

The orangery was a hot because the sun shined in through the windows the whole day, and Bill could feel how his khaki-colored t-shirt got stuck to his back when he sat in the armchair. In front of him was a camera with a cameraman behind it and Precious on the left side of it.

“So you say that you maybe feel something for Sienna, that you're not sure, okay?”

Bill nodded a little but furrowed his brows. They had started to cook up something to give Sandra a reason to leave. Finally, Precious had convinced her to leave, but she had two demands: that she wouldn't leave the same episode she came back and that they would show in the program that she wasn't fooled by Bill, that she understood he had someone else. Bill didn't really know how it all would work out in the end but noticed that the production had a plan, so he let them handle it.

He said his line as easily as an actor, and then they let him be. Bill pulled out his phone as soon as they had finished and smirked towards the screen before answering Sienna's message. He was in a love bubble, all so nice, but it can also be easy to forget everything else and not question what people are doing around you.

×××

Tiffany.

Rose.

Sandra.

Esmeralda.

Maria.

The ceremony felt hollow for Bill. It was just a play, even if he was the only one who acted. Or Sandra did too, but not very well. She didn't even look at him, and he wondered if the other women had noticed. Some of them did, but instead they wondered if the two of them tried to hide something else. Esmeralda looked at him worriedly when she walked up to him. He had said her name second to last. She really thought she was a favorite. Bill tried to smile neutrally like nothing was weird, but she looked at Tiffany and wondered what she had done right.

Violet and Odette stood left behind; Bill looked around uncomfortably because the both of them cried. He didn't want to hurt any of them, but he would have done so even if he hadn't met a girl in secrecy. It was a part of the concept, more or less. While some of the girls comforted Odette, Violet stood a bit to the side, and Bill thought to himself that Sienna had never let her stand alone like that because he could remember that she had been one of them who checked the other girls regardless of their relationship. He walked up to Violet, who looked at him hurt but still followed him when he made a gesture to the porch.

“You never even gave me a chance,” she said between her sobs and dried her tears with a napkin she had gotten from Precious behind the camera. Bill licked his lips and looked around. He scratched his elbow and then mustered up the courage to look at her.

“I'm sorry for that, but our values are really different from each other.”

“I think you've listened to gossip! The other girls have been really mean to me!”

Bill looked at her with big eyes; it was sad she had felt like that even if she seemed to have encouraged it.

“That's awful that you feel like that, but my decision is based on what you've said to me. I haven't let anyone affect me.”

For a short second he thought about Sienna. She had affected him but not in the way that was discussed right then and there.

“I'm sorry, Violet.”

She continued to cry, but Bill didn't even have the thought of giving her a hug. He had lost a bit of the ability to be a part of the presence.

Bill was forced to let her cry alone because he had another woman to talk to and walked in to search for Odette. She stood with Tiffany, still drying her tears with a napkin. Bill walked doubtfully up to her side, and she smiled sadly.

“Second time around… I have not missed that you're not interested in me.” She laughed a little and shook her head. Tiffany took some step back, but Bill tried to get Odette to come with him to the deck, but she refused.

“Have the same talk again? No, thank you. I get it, Bill. The only thing I can't get is who of them you're actually interested in. I think we all thought Esmeralda, but something has changed there.”

Esmeralda, who stood close by, started to listen carefully, even walking a bit closer to them.

“We all said it earlier tonight: you're pulling away; you don't even seem to be interested in being with us. Are you gay or something?”

Bill looked at her stunned, then laughed a little at her question. It sounded forced, and it could be interpreted as him actually being gay, and she called him out.

“I'm not gay.” Bill looked around at the women, meeting Sandra's eyes. He shook his head and put his hands on his hips. He could see that all of them analyzed him, checking for signals, and he felt the pressure in his chest worsen for every second.

“Fuck it. I've met the woman I want to be with.”

×××

It was silent, completely silent, between both the girls and the crew until Herman stood up.

“Hey, hey, hey! Bill!” He said in panic and walked up to his friend with waving hands. Bill could see on his face it was him he was worried about, what this would do to him and his wallet, but Bill couldn't shut up anymore.

“I can't do this anymore, Herman. I'm not this kind of person, and this is my decision.” He looked into Herman's panicking eyes, then towards the women that all looked at him in confusion. All of them were there except Violet, and they wanted an answer. Bill dragged a hand over his face, then turned to them with a beating heart.

“I've met a woman. It was unexpected and confusing... And… It's Sienna.”

The tension lay down like a thick blanket over the room. No one said anything; everyone looked at Bill, and he really tried to keep a straight face. Of course he was ashamed, but he didn't want to look like he had done something wrong. He had fallen in love; he hadn't promised the women anything, and the concept was that they would compete for his love. The only thing that had happened was that one woman had won.

“Sienna..?” Said Maria suddenly, and Bill looked at her confused face. “Wait, Sienna who left?”

Bill nodded but then reminded himself to not act like he was ashamed.

“Yes. Sienna, who left.”

He looked at Maria with his full attention to not seem weak, but because of it he missed that Esmeralda turned her back to him and ran towards the door and was followed by Odette. He just saw their backs disappear out of the room. He didn't have anything to say and stood with his mouth open like a dead fish. He had just fallen in love.

“Still you continued this charade!” Sandra suddenly said, upset. She had probably had those feelings in her body all night because now when they left her body, the anger sparked like fire from her. Bill could feel the shame grow now because he hadn't thought about that at that moment. He was too busy trying to tell himself his behavior was okay and missed that he had lied to them all.

“I'm sorry… It wasn't planned and then... Fuck…”

He knew he would sound awfully selfish if he said he did it because of money, but it was a lot of money, and in that moment the anxiety that he would pay that money started to haunt him.

“I fell in love.”

The words left his mouth before he had thought about it, and when he heard them, it felt like he also told himself about his feelings. He was in love with Sienna, and the mess was because he already loved her. He looked at the women's faces. Tiffany looking at him with big eyes, Maria with shiny eyes, and Sandra with anger. The only one who didn't look like his words were horrible was Rose, who smiled a little sadly.

“Oh…” she said after a while, then looked at the other women. They looked like they wanted answers, but she didn't want that. It was a disappointment that Bill had chosen another woman, but it was something she also was prepared for, and she liked Sienna. She was kind with silly humor.

“I think I go then…” she said and smiled a bit strained to Bill. He looked down at the floor before nodding and looking up.

“I'm sorry…”

Rose shrugged her shoulders and walked to the room she had lived in.

“We kissed…!” Maria suddenly said, before Bill had really understood Rose had left. “We kissed; did you think about her then?” She wiped away an angry tear while looking at him intensely. For a few seconds, Bill tried to remember how it all had unfolded. He hadn't imagined Maria being Sienna, but he had her in the back of his mind, still confused over what he felt.

“No…”

It sounded doubtful, and he could see Maria swallow harshly, like her anger was rising from her belly up her throat.

“When did this start? When did you start to fool us all?” She sounded just as upset as Sandra, and Bill dragged his hands through his hair before he put them on his head with threaded fingers. To all the girls’ annoyance, his white shirt rose with the movement, and they could see sharp lines travel down to black boxer elastic. It was just one more thing that made Maria break, and with her hands in front of her face, she cried so her shoulders bobbed.

“Maria…” Bill said empathetically, thinking about walking up to her, but she pulled away and instead removed her hands from her face and looked at him with red eyes.

“I really thought you were one of the good guys…” She turned on her heel and walked out of the room; now it was just Tiffany and Sandra left.

Bill dragged his hands over his face, down to his neck. The shame started to become anxiety, and he felt the need to be alone and leave the problems behind, but he knew it would make everything even worse, so he stayed in the same place, just waiting on the other girl's accusations.

Sandra stood and looked at him unamused, like he had lost his worth and now was just a silly excuse of a man. She crossed her arms and shook her head.

“You're such a fucking asshole. I hope Sienna realizes that too, but maybe she's just as bad as you.”

Bill didn't have any energy left and didn't know what to say or do, so instead he sat down in one of the couches with a defeated look. He leaned his elbows on his knees and let his head hang between his shoulders. Sandra scoffed at him and gave Tiffany a look, but she looked away. Sandra clicked her tongue and looked at her up and down but then left the living room, stomping with her high heels.

Bill sat with his head low and eyes pushed together, so he thought both women had left. That's why he was surprised when someone lighter than him sat down next to him and laid her hand on his upper arm. He looked to the side and met Tiffany's brown eyes looking back at him. She caressed his biceps in silence for a while, until Bill's face became more and more confused.

“Are you okay?” She asked, hugging his bicep. Bill looked still confused and looked her up and down. He didn't deserve any comfort and wondered if this was something else. He nodded just a little to see what she would do next. She nodded too and combed back his hair with long, slim fingers. He didn't feel completely comfortable with her doing such an intimate act, but at that moment he didn't want to stir up anything.

“I'm a bit surprised.” She lowered her gaze but looked up at him again. Bill nodded; his tongue felt stiff as wood, so he couldn’t physically get a word out.

“You know… Sienna made fun of you sometimes.”

Bill was first confused but then remembered that Herman said she would do faces towards the camera, mocking him. He hadn't thought about that since he and Sienna started to talk, and the question came back then about what she had actually done.

“I don't think she was here for the right reason… I'm probably wrong, but she seems to need money?”

Bill looked out over the room, thinking about Sienna's small apartment, her son with special needs. Her past as a mistress. He cleared his throat and looked towards the camera. He was so used to the camera now he hadn't acknowledged it until then. He breathed deeply, and Tiffany dragged her hand over his back, but he tensed up in discomfort, and she pulled away.

“Do you need some time alone? She asked kindly, and he turned to her with sensitive eyes. Once again she stroked his hair, and Bill pulled back.

“I'm sorry, but yeah, I need to be alone.” He stood up on weak legs, all shaky after it all. He gave Tiffany an apologetic smile before walking up to his bedroom.

Bill lay down in the king-size bed with a sigh and with a tired hand on his forehead. It felt like his head would explode after all the screaming, tears, and accusations. He wished he could take an aspirin, but there wasn't any in his bedroom, and he didn't want to go down anymore. He didn't want to meet anyone, the women, or anyone from the production team either. His feelings were everywhere, and he didn't know how to calm them down.

There was a knock on the door, but he refused to open it, and the door was locked from the inside. He knew it was Herman, his friend and producer, and he had destroyed everything for him also in just 30 minutes, but he couldn't care about that at that moment. He thought about Sienna, the angry women, the money, his reputation, his daughters… He should have kept quiet, but it was just too much to bear. He couldn't say how it happened, but in his anxiety he succeeded in falling asleep but woke up when his phone vibrated under him. He didn't even remember he had it in bed but pulled it out and looked at it. Two missed calls from Sienna and two messages.

Hey, can I call you?

I tried to call, but you didn't pick up. You can call when you have time, Mom is babysitting.

He felt something in his chest but couldn't say what at that moment. He sat up, leaned against the headboard, cracking his back and stretching his arms. He took a deep breath before taking his iPad and video calling Sienna. She picked up so fast he wondered if she sat and waited on his call, but he had other things to think about when he saw her. She sat in a baby blue silk kimono with perfect hair and makeup and smiled at him brightly as soon as she saw him, but it fell and became a worried face.

“Hey baby, are you okay?”

Bill looked at her with a fluttering heart and smiled uncertain. He looked away while scratching his eyebrow and then nodded even if what he said would go against it.

“I told them. In front of the camera, I spilled it all.” He laughed unamused, and Sienna could see his Adam's apple bob. She looked at him surprised but then worriedly.

“Oh my god, Bill…” It just came out; she didn't want to make him even more anxious, but the news was unexpected.

“They got mad; some cried… And I guess the production is angry as fuck.”

“But how do you feel?” Sienna examined him with furrowed brows. Bill looked down, then lay down in bed, on his side with the iPad in front of him. He laid his head on the soft pillow while looking between Sienna and the ceiling.

“I dunno… I guess it wasn't that smart..."

Sienna didn't say anything, and maybe there wasn't much to say.

“And Tiffany said a thing, a thing Herman had said before… About you.”

Bill examined her face now while her face shifted to confusion.

“Okay?”

Bill took a deep breath and changed his position but continued to look at her.

“They say you've made fun of me. Mocking me in front of the cameras.”

Sienna didn't say anything; she just looked around the room she was in. Bill didn't know how to interpret her behavior and became more and more nervous about her silence.

“Is it true?”

Sienna looked at him and pulled on the kimono, covering herself more.

“What do you think?” She looked at him seriously with big eyes. Bill looked at her beautiful face, and felt his first impulse was to just say no and apologize, but he had the chance to talk about it now, and he needed to know.

“No, but I want to know if there is a reason why they say that.”

Sienna sighed and looked at him in shame.

“I… I didn't think you would pick me. You were completely uninterested in me, so when I was with a couple of the girls, I just... Imitated your pose. You know, the one where you clasp your hands in front of you and lower your chin…”

Bill looked at her first with a serious face, but it transformed to a smirk slowly.

“That's it?”

“And when we were at the fitness center, I bit my lip in a like, horny way when you came out in your swim trunks. And I might have done a little silly dance when you walked away from me to be with Esmeralda. Just a little ‘bye-bye dance.’”

Sienna looked so shameful, but Bill just smirked. He knew she could be silly like that, sing and dance and make faces. He loved her for that, and that she had done the same thing but without him knowing wasn't anything big; it was even quite cute.

“I'm sorry…” she said, not seeming to notice Bill was smirking. “I really didn't think I would get to stay when we were at the fitness center; you just left me there in the pool.”

Now it was Bill who was ashamed, both because he had left her and also for the shallow reason why he had let her stay.

“You looked so fucking good…”

“Hmm?” Sienna really didn't seem to have heard what he said, and Bill pulled his hair because he knew he would need to say it again.

“Right then and there I was more interested in Esmeralda, but… You looked so good in that red bikini. You were the hottest…”

“You mean I got to stay because I looked good in a bikini?” She tried to sound upset, but the laugh was too close.

“I must go on something! And yeah, you looked good in a bikini!” Bill defended himself but was just as amused as her. “You were mocking me!”

“Oh please, you deserve it! Stop looking so silly then! And be a pathetic man!”

Bill smiled big and sat up again, forgetting all his problems while looking at Sienna and her baby blue kimono.

“What's under the kimono?” He suddenly asked with a smirk and made Sienna give him a pointed but amused look.

“Panties.”

“Can I see?” He smirked playfully and got a laugh out of Sienna.

“You accused me of being a bitch, more or less, and now you want to see my panties?”

Bill smiled his most boyish smile, showing off every dimple in his face, and made Sienna laugh again and shook her head with love, then she placed the iPad on the bed so she could stand up and let the kimono fall. He looked at her with big eyes, still smirking, so pleased, like everything that happened earlier had blown away. He looked at every curve, tan line, and the black lacy panties.

“Pull them off,” he said with a low, dark voice and dragged his hand over the front of his pants.

×××

“I'm happy doing my service,” said Sienna and did a little salute after having wrapped the kimono around herself again. Bill smirked while tossing away a napkin on the floor. He lay in just boxers now, and for a few minutes his mind was completely calm until the anxiety started to creep up on him again. Sienna could see how he drifted away to heavier subjects and felt her own guilt rise.

“This is my fault too and… I really want to help; maybe I can loan some money-” Bill turned his gaze to her fast.

“No. No. No. This is my contract, not yours, and… No.” He shook his head.

“There must be a solution to this; maybe I’ll just sell my soul or something…”

Bill nodded to himself as he lay down. He looked at Sienna and let her hazel eyes comfort him. It felt like he was in a safe space when she was close, even through just a screen. He let her calm him down and forget it all for a while. What he didn't know was that several of the women were still in the house, and one of them had heard him moan together with a girl in his room.

“I remember that; yeah, I know you can handle all of me, dirty girl.”

×

[gigi-journaling]

📖Journal Ideas📖: Daily Details

Writing daily entries can be challenging when most days, life can be pretty mundane. Struggling to fill your page? Here are some details you can add on those troublesome ‘nothing to say’ days.

Something New

Learn something new and write about it! Can be a new word, or a weird science fact

Try something new! Maybe a different coffee/food order. Or visit somewhere local that you’ve never gone before.

Switch up your routine a little! Write about it

Music

Mention a song or lyrics that have been stuck in your head all day.

Write what song(s) you listened to while journaling

Listen to a new genre, artist, song. Write about it.

Add a song to a playlist

Positivity Pill

Write the kind words you’ve said to someone today. Shy? What kind thoughts did you have about someone today?

Did someone help you today, even in a small way? Did you help someone today?

Record the compliments given and received that day

Write something kind to yourself about today.

Television/Media

Write what show, movie, or video you watched today

How many episodes? How long was the movie?

Write a brief review or summary!

Off Screen

Write about leisurely activities you did that were off screen or off line

Approximately how much time did you spend offline in your down time?

Treat

Indulge in a little treat today? Write about it!

Doodle Buddy

Take a bit of space to doodle yourself a friend to keep you company while you write 💛

Stress scribble

Take all the stress, anger, and frustrations of the day and scribble it out on your paper!

(I recommend doing this first before writing 👌)

Forecast

What was the weather today? Temperature highs and lows? The moon phase?

Come find inspiration with us on our tumblr journaling community: click here!

[jacquesthepigeon]

And remember:

When he was asked about how Adrien didn't have a new outfit in the Season 6 promos, That Guy's response was "You will understand"

He's actually gonna try to make it plot relevant.

Here’s the thing: assuming he is cooking with whatever symbolism he plans on pulling with Adrien’s lack of change in whatever aspect, it’s not going to be a dish that suits the context of the narrative, plot, or character

There is definitely something to be explored in terms of coping with grief and how one can, in a sense, “get stuck in time” as they struggle to find their footing after losing a loved one; I’m assuming this is where he’s going with Adrien’s closet. I actually remember multiple similar theories and headcanons coming out after Felix’s introduction episode where people suggested that maybe the reason Amelie so closely resembled Emelie not just in appearance but also hairstyle and clothing is because it’s her way of connecting to her missing twin (everyone was well aware that the actual reason was laziness in making character models, no copium here) and that was all pretty neat imo.

But the thing about Adrien’s character in particular is that he’s been stuck his whole life specially because of his parents. If he is going to get anything out of their absence, it’s going to be freedom to grow as a person, so I find the (unconfirmed) plan to use Gabriel’s death to keep Adrien in the exact same place he’s been his entire existence not just narratively inappropriate, but also lazy and cowardly in a meta sense. Sure, theoretically it’d be possible for someone to stay in their cage after being given the keys, but what would be the point of pulling that kind of story line with Adrien? We all know dang well would go nowhere. This crew will do absolutely everything in their power to justify doing nothing of worth with Adrien’s character. Why is he even there? Put him out of his misery

[ms-scarletwings]

A Messy, Sedulous Necropsy of Zib Membrane

That’s what we call him right? Not Invader Zib? Hell if I know, we’ll let the tags decide.

Whatever he is christened by his author, enemies, or fans, this titular villain of the Zimvoid is such a mind blaster to me. I wish we had more time with him within the comics. I wish he had been a concept explored in the show. I wish he had a movie. I am having fun with a little hyperbole here, but I truly do find him just as interesting and potentially pivotal of an antagonist as Tak was, if not even more.

Both, of course, were so badly underutilized for sake of the series status quo. To that, Zib was a much bigger threat than Tak, and especially to that of the comics’ own. He potentially changes everything, and somehow absolutely nothing by the end. The TV show always had a more overt tone of cruelty and the macabre floating about its themes. These print issues? I don’t dislike them. It’s still recognizably invader Zim, and the more the merrier, content-wise, but longtime fans can feel that there was this change of essence in the transition. More obviously, in the art, but more subtly, there was an audible softening of that bluntly darker, cynical tone the show was made iconic for. To put it very generally, they lean a little more into the whackiness of this world, there’s a lot more dark comedy to be found in what I’ve seen so far rather than in your face darkness, and in the absence of the ost and voice acting the show accustomed us to, the comics leave a lot more room to be read as you wile. To me, they’re goofier and more episodic in spirit.

This all is not a critique or rating on the comics.. It’s purely, I feel, why Zib stuck out to me all the more jarringly in his context. His reveal was a genuine twist that brought forth stakes higher than arguably any other threat in the entire franchise. He represents a plausible while horrifying prophecy of our main characters if only they made worse decisions. The most interesting of all, for every piece of amazing information he fed to us, he bred dozens more questions about everything than he answered, from Irken machinations, to his ambivalent backstory, to the secrets hidden by the sum of his parts.

Though he was left evidently alive at the end of his story, I don’t see any chance for him making a return, so he is memorialized as another defeated one-off the writers have brisked past and left behind for good. Therefore, I’m here today to take what we got and present it on the metaphorical autopsy table. I want to really pull apart why this character alone pulled me back into the TV series, really just flay open the bits I can’t get out of my own head and dig harder until we find something or we run out of threads to tug at. Starting with the one already hanging out of my mouth, but

• B.E.F

“Bad End Friend” is a term I learned the meaning of within the last 12 hours or so of writing this, and I’m exuberant over that discovery. It’s a niche trope i didn’t know ive been a giant fan of since I was a child. Summed up, fictional characters from beloved media, typically, animated child protagonists… given the worst case scenario treatment. Their “bad ending”, whether that means a corruption arc, demonic possession, a lovecraftIan tragedy… usually something that’s anywhere along the lines of a fate worse than death to a full villainous turnover. As a treat. The concept is strongly associated with fanworks and AUs of popular media, but just as often this is something that becomes explored in the source material as well. A couple great examples I know would probably be Ice Prince Finn from Adventure Time or what happens in Undertale when you decide you want to run the most depraved playthrough possible. From a more mature story, “Evil” Morty is another validly arguable sample.

Besides a bit of a fondness I got going for certain dark or spooky themes in general, what I REALLY love about canonical BEFs the most is their utility as characterization tools. They’re the “having your cake and eating it too” option! The perfect way for an author to explore certain things about any character without actually committing to well… a bad ending.

Almost always, they are necessarily hypothetical or reversible. If they’re not reversible, they go often hand-in-hand with a little universe tampering to make happen. Sometimes, this means the story goes the way of time travel and branching off butterfly effects. Sometimes it means confirming multiverse theory, which can be the same thing depending on your semantical position.

And Zib crossed off the BEF qualifications by far and away. His implications are extremely dark given any pause think about them, and he’s a living, disturbing tragedy in aftermath. If you want to view a rigamarole about that aspect of his characterization as he appeared in the comics, someone else long beat me to that and I’m enthusiastically recommending a peek at their own work. I’m thrilled to do so and build a little upon that with those extended what-if-wonders.

• Lessons From a Lost Episode

Elephant in the room I haven’t seen someone ask yet, uh..

By show rules, isn’t Zib supposed to be a clear case of the writers committing the sin of retcon? By show I’m including the unaired scripts, including “10 Minutes to Doom”. In that one we had what looked like the potential setup for a Zib case, and it was deconstructed across the whole episode.

In short recap, Dib learned the hard and reckless way about the true nature of what Irken PAKs actually are. This is not an inventory bag, it is not “gear”. It’s the actual Irken entity- at least, the primary component.

Detaching it from the organic shell essentially caused a temporary split into two instances of Zim, desperately trying to connect back together under threat of obliteration.

Like let me be very clear about this,

The PAK is an autonomous instance of Zim’s consciousness, and it’s the main one. We’ve seen it act to save his life when his body has been out cold or flatlined, and he doesn’t appear the least bit disoriented or confused once “he” wakes and jumps back into the action. There’s no known separate computer assistant AI or security autopilot in there. That code, that program, IS Zim. As Long as the PAK is active, he is capable of staying fully conscious and able to react to what’s happening around him, and that’s what we’ve been seeing, his own actions.

Zim proved me right when Virooz tried to replace him and detached the PAK. Take note of his phrasing after the chair event™.

“I” activated the protocol. Immediately after Virooz ran off with my shell.

“I” Voluntarily chose to do so.

I don’t remember it playing out like that in “10 Minutes to Doom”.

Attaching to a new host wasn’t the first reflex. Dib was not the least bit aware that that he has literally holding the actual Zim captive in sense, and the latter was fighting like a cornered animal to escape him. Failing that, alongside the distance between him and his original body growing fast, he made a last desperate gambit, and he willingly connected himself into Dib’s body.

I can see why he thought this was better than nothing, no matter how repulsive the notion might have been. If he couldn’t fend Dib off physically, he could incapacitate him in some fashion by trying to overtake his will. Maybe give the shell a better chance to catch up, maybe in the longshot hope of being able to pilot dib in order to become whole with the correct host again. And you can say he succeeded, at least in dominating bodily control away from Dib, but at the cost of his already tenuously held sanity. This could be because of the interference of Dib’s own mind still resisting to fully submit, or malfunctions because of the biological incompatibility; however, the thing that Dib mentally becomes is only the basic idea of what “Zim” is. Instead of remembering it needs to reunite with its shell ASAP, the PAK mistakes Dib’s body for its own and goes through the manic motions of following the Invader mission. And it does this, weirdly enough, with almost no regard for blowing its cover.

When things are set right again, Zim’s later words near the episode ending revealed that he knew that was an unsustainable state.

Such a risk was not just accounted for, he was actually banking on it if that clock had hit zero. If Zim had truly lost, if he was really doomed to meet his end on this nasty rock in the middle of Nowhere, Space, then by every damned circuit in his being, he was going to take down this insolent fool boy and as many other humans possible with him. A dying act of vengeful rage.

• The Exceptional… Exception

Now, wouldn’t all of this be the definitive reason for Zib’s existence to be an aberrant impossibility? Yes, but actually no. Fun thing about multiverses is if something doesn’t work in one setting, you can just tweak a few dials and suddenly you have a world where the impossible becomes possible. But that’s a pretty cheap answer, isn’t it? So, what exactly was that crucial difference?

What happened in Zib’s timeline that went down so, so divergently from the events of 10 Minutes to Doom?

Because the only one who was in any position to explain it for us was Zib himself, and he’s proven to be one of the most unreliable of narrators. It’s as @dana-chan-the-control-brain already spared no effort to demonstrate, when he does tell us something about his past, his story is pocked with contradicting half-truths or outright lies. Ergo it helps to break down each recount of events to pick out the real facts.

Version 1: This is an alternate version of dib who defeated his complementing Zim (logically sensible) and went on to achieve all of the success and respect he sought after in his timeline (absolute bullshit). He kind of gestures and only implies about what has happened to his body while explaining that he came to his current understanding of Irken technology by studying it through Zim’s lab (a partial truth). He lets slip in passing that he has in fact fused with the PAK in order to learn how to alter and reprogram its coding, lessons he has applied to Number 2 in order to have a brainwashed pawn (also apparently true).

Version 2, when cornered and red handed: This is an alternate version of Dib who managed to specifically stop Zim's mission (Again, makes sense) but somehow could not convince the world of his findings or his warnings about the Irken Armada (*VERY eyebrow raising). Frustrated with the people’s lack of cooperation, he decides he has no choice but to physically merge with Zim’s PAK post-mortem (concerning and evidently mostly accurate), dominate the Earth himself, and enslave humans to help him in his efforts (highly troubling and probably true). The construction of his EMP super-weapon is successful, but ultimately led to the creation of the Zimvoid when the device was field tested (self evident, absolutely horrifying).

You know what I noticed was missing from both of these accounts? Exactly how his Zim was defeated. Which honestly could have been some beyond useful wisdom to pass along to the main Dib??? More than anything else? I’m not going to fault our boy for not pressing that matter better under the awing circumstance; however, there’s an implication I’ve been reading between lines. 

When Zib mentions “defeating” his own Zim, he’s talking about something different than ours.

When our Dib has always talked about “defeating” Zim, he’s meant incapacitation and capture. Throughout the show he explicitly wants to present Zim before an audience alive and whole. Yeah, he fantasizes about other people torturing or disassembling him for study, but HIS role was supposed to be reaping the fame for an undeniable, ground-breaking discovery. Conspiracies and cryptids are all this kid breathes and lives by! And as long as pop culture has always been fascinated with the paranormal, and he has to know this full well, people keep bringing forward hoax after hoax after scam. I mean there’s a freaking current one or few still going IRL about this exact topic. Dib would want no room left for being dismissed as another one of those con artists. 

Nonetheless, I actually doubt this is the reason Zib couldn’t get through to the scientific community. A genuine alien lifeform, even a dead one, could still be confirmed by any basic medical examination. The world thinks Dib is too crazy to listen to, but his father is still Professor Membrane. In "10 Minutes to Doom" OUR Dib got as close as having Membrane literally analyzing a PAK, or at worst, preparing to. “Ultimate Dib” gets his hands on the same thing and pulls a move I’d expect from an HP Lovecraft Protagonist instead.

We’re assuming way too much to what these two Dibs have in common, because this ^^^ is really what made the Zimvoid an outlier in the multiverse. That world didn’t only have a very different, more threatening Zim from the main timeline, it had the Dib who proved even more formidable, cunning, and ruthless, even before the fusion. 

He didn’t obtain that PAK ala the “10 minutes to Doom” accident, it’s a personal trophy. This is extra strange remembering that capturing an Irken is realistically more easy than killing one. They’re seriously more tenacious than kudzu and will even fight back in PAK form alone. I’m convinced that whatever sort of final showdown made the Ultimate Dib the victor, there are two optional endings on the table.

Option 1: There was not a body even left intact enough to bring in to research. Maybe Dib’s fault, maybe an accident, maybe even Zim’s own luck running out and his incompetent antics finally swallowed him (and possibly GIR). This theory assumes that the PAK was the only sort of remains to come into Dib’s recovery/possession.

Option 2: Curiosity Killed the cat,

but satisfaction brought it back.

Or, the one I personally headcanon. Dib… all Dibs, I assume, don’t just hate the Irken species. They are mesmerized by them, and all that they represent from his perspective. Firstly, the epic villain he gets to roleplay nemesis to in order to feel his own worth and importance. Secondly, an unknown wonder from beyond the boundaries of the cosmos. He’s not really a ghost buster or a Men In Black agent at heart, but a scientist, like his father. Underneath his contempt for Zim’s plans to destroy the world is a genuine and appropriately childish awe for alien presence, especially for Zim’s technology. His silent, dopey smile when Tak’s ship ended up in his backyard said more than words ever will.. 

Earlier in the show, a great deal of Dib’s time and effort was spent on trying to infiltrate the lower levels of Zim’s base. Sneaking into the house was hard enough, but the computer security can’t be bypassed like the gnomes. Not even by Zim himself unless he really is all himself. Perhaps you’re starting to sniff where I’m going with this one when I refer back to “Bolognius Maximus”. I’ve another reference that’s a little more on the nose, and a lot more… dark.

Were an expired Irken husk before you, you too might take your victory and cash in then. Still, who knows what sudden impulse may run through the head of a less humble version of yourself, one some could call greedier, obsessive to a fault, a screw or two loose, yet, a hell of a smart cookie. Smart enough to see it for what it actually was, the keys to a whole world of discovery that went so many layers deeper than they could ever imagine. It’s possible the Ultimate Dib already learned beforehand the same hard lessons about the PAKs that our own did, and took that understanding toward not repeating the same mistake this time. What happened to Zim? I think he was murdered in cold blood, body, and entity. “10 Minutes to Doom” showed us a fight between 2 brains clinging to one body, struggling until one overpowered another, but that’s not what this is. Through whatever means of science were available to him, this Dib has probably tried to “disarm” the technology by either erasing Zim’s consciousness out of it altogether, or by forcing the autonomous code into a kind of dormancy. His intentions were to render it back to its basic hardware without losing its precious knowledge and usefulness, something like the brain-filled tank that was wired into Skrang’s head. Zim’s PAK doesn’t cling onto his body like a parasitic teratoma this time; it’s merged in a literal sense with his nervous and circulatory system. As well, he has fooled the device’s ability to detect and reject a foreign host shell, the exact same way he deceived the the base’s security AI. If an Irken biology is what these measures authorize to command them and their secrets, then he had the tools on hand to give them just that- in an atrocity I like to call

the darker harvest.

Within this theory, there is not as much room to wonder exactly what became of Zim’s organic remains. 

But where Dib fucked up was, for the second time, in his ignorance to the true nature of what he was even playing with. That was a mistake that even the mighty Elder Brains of Judgementia lost themselves to; How much more vulnerable was the weak, human mind? Though Zim can be devoured, he can never be digested. In that fact was born this aberration against nature, sanity, and humanity alike.

"Have you ever heard of insect politics? Neither have I. Insects… don't have politics. They're very… brutal. No compassion, no compromise. We can't trust the insect. I'd like to become the first… insect politician. Y'see, I'd like to, but… I'm afraid, uh… I'm saying… I'm saying I - I'm an insect who dreamt he was a man and loved it. But now the dream is over… and the insect is awake." - Seth Brundle, The Fly, 1986

By fusing what is half-mad and what is utterly mad, neither being was cured, only assimilated into the birth of a new madness. The madness of the creature that snickers behind the curtain in the Zimvoid. I rightfully fear that lonesome thing, but not I think as much as I pity him.

• Dejavu, or Re:Plagarism

One more thing about the Zimvoid arc I find curious is the way it makes you question more and more just how much of the aberration is actually still Dib, and how much of it is Zim's infection haunting him. He does nothing with all of his intellect, his resources, and his time in the void doing anything but surrounding himself in everything he claims he despises. He decries alien tyranny in one breath while lording over a homemade, cruel dictatorship in another. He calls for eradication of the very race who's technology and physiology he has thoroughly appropriated. He laments feeling unable to protect the Earth from the Armada alone, yet sneers literally through Irken teeth to insult humans as inferior and of no value to him any longer. Our Dib spent the whole damn show longing for the support of other people, but Zib pushes away potential allies in his arrogance. His broken timeline never became a Dibvoid instead because while only half of his mind can't stand Irkens, both of the souls inside him remember that they loathe and look down upon a Dib, deep inside.

The corruption goes as far as even subverting his own creativity. None of Zib's plans are wholly original. His anti-Irken weapon was already a concept blueprinted inside of that PAK before the merge. Our Dib has several times shown a propensity for some DIY ingenuity, sometimes dipping a toe into the supernatural. Zib entirely calls upon, scavenges and regurgitates Irken designs with a few modifications or upgrades. The Dib Virus, I think is his most uninspired creation yet, for it's original form was always something inside of Zim, even if the latter himself was not aware of the fact. Like all else, it is a weapon he has plundered, customized, and turned around on everyone else for his own selfish ends. This brief point I will end on one  more reflection. The one kind of help Zim ever allowed at his side were the likes of GIR and his own creations. Unable to connect and cooperate with his peers and own kind, his ego preferred to be around those defective machines he related to- drones to be owned by him and always loyally at his beck and call. A slave to admire him unconditionally is the only companionship he's ever been willing to admit to desiring.

And what was Number 2's purpose again? What role exactly were the arena combatants auditioning for, when you think about it?

[go-to-two]

When I look at Upton's exit outside of Upstead, I feel like it was about HER. She was stuck and ready to start fresh. Sometimes a change of scenery is the answer and can provide hope and goodness. Bottom line, she left everything behind and moved on. That was her exit .

Maybe the fans wanted her to go back to her ex husband, but that was never going to happen. Not if she was to reach her own peace of mind.

I'm sorry, I just don't consider a forced father/daughter relationship that didn't exist before and a completely ambiguous ending to be about her.

Searching for Voight for 90% of the episode did nothing for her story. We saw a montage of the ways he has harmed her, then they wrapped that up by having her absolve him of it all and tell him he was good for her, when we quite literally saw the opposite. We don't know what she's doing, where she's going. There's no such thing as a fresh start with the trauma she has gone through, so we know that'll go with her too. I just really, really fail to see how that episode (or any of the 13 episodes this season) showed her growth or gave any answers about what's next for Hailey.

Also, I know the upstead stuff is divisive but for the record, I didn't want her to just "go back to her ex husband". I wanted some indication that they were given the chance to work on them off camera as the smallest remedy for the ooc writing they had seen since his exit, and the five seasons of development they so carelessly destroyed.

[threwedaway]

TW: SA, ABUSE

Someone said some victim blamer shit in my reblogs and that's an automatic no, but I needed to share... Because what the hell, man?

I got this reblog and I'm trying to keep my composure. This is probably going to be a rambling mess. I was just trying to make a fun little post about HuskerDust, but here we go!

I crossed out the name, because I don't know how old this person is and I don't know what their experiences are.

This will kind of go back and forth between Angel's situation and general information/experience. I think from what I've seen it won't resonate with everyone, but it is definitely within the realm of possibility and makes sense given his circumstances.

I also use the terms victim and survivor interchangeably as a fair warning.

I know there's been a lot of talk around victim blaming and this is blatant.

I'm aware this is a fictional character. I have, however, worked at multiple non-profits that focus on helping survivors of abuse and SA as well as being a victim myself. So, I am pissed beyond belief.

No one lets themselves be abused. Even in situations where someone resigns themselves to abuse, it is for their survival and safety. It is under duress and it is not someone letting themselves be abused. This person says Angel is doing an awful job saving himself, but in all reality he is attempting to keep himself as safe as he can in the environment he's in.

Husk isn't doing everything right and a relationship with the foundation of it being we both suck and we're both stuck in shitty situations isn't going to be stable, but as I said in my original post, he's telling Angel he's not alone. He's not doing that perfectly, but he's saying even if we can't fix everything I'll be here. He says we're in this together, respects that Angel doesn't want to be saved, and he takes the pressure off. He makes himself a safe place for Angel to vent and makes it clear that he enjoys being around him no matter what.

Trying to force someone can push them towards their abuser and isolate them further or put you and the victim in a lot of danger if you're untrained. Which is what happens in the episode when Charlie comes to the studio. Someone tried to help when he didn't ask for it and it ended badly, which just reaffirms that he cannot accept or ask for help without repercussion.

If you have someone close to you who is in an abusive situation and they don't want to leave for whatever reason, applying too much pressure can be counterproductive. If it is safe to do so (mentally and physically), be there for them. Try and keep the line of communication open so they have a life line if or when they're ready.

Angel is under contract, there has been a pattern of abuse for at least a decade, his self worth is extremely low, there are threats of violence against him and people he cares about and Valentino seemingly provided everything before Charlie and is still providing for his drug habits. That's not even getting into the intricacies of the fact he was trafficked, which makes things more complicated.

Aside from the magic piece of paper, these are real reasons people stay in abusive relationships.

My point is, this is uninformed and victim blaming. The amount of times I've heard from survivors all the reasons they didn't ask for help even though it was awful is too many to count. So many people come out of these situations after years and years and blame themselves for not getting help. It is never the fault of the person being hurt, it is always the fault of the person hurting them.

Angel is trying to save himself and is making steps forward. He's going to the hotel, distancing himself from Valentino and he's also trying to 'break himself' or make himself less appealing to his abuser. While that last one isn't good, he's not doing nothing. He is trying to use the resources he knows to stop the abuse.

Autonomy is very important in situations like this. Of course someone in this situation should ask for help, but if someone isn't ready it's not our place to decide that for them.

This struck a nerve obviously!

No one is a bad victim. We do not judge victims choices to ask for help or not ask for help. We do not imply any survivor of abuse lets it happen somehow.

Keep anything close to victim blaming off my blog. All and all, don't put these words in that order! Ever!

[lonelywhalien22]

constant

pairing: sangyeon x reader

rating/genre: fluff + comfort <3

summary: after a long week of work, you and sangyeon barely have anything left in you to give, but what you do have you give to each other. selflessly.

warnings: none, just people choosing to love each other even when they’re exhausted <3

word count: 2.2k

song(s) to listen to while reading: good for you by eric nam, constant by jesse barrera ft. jeremy passion <3

note: back at it again with another comfort fic that i polished up from my old drafts. probably tmi but a while back i was listening to an episode of a podcast that was all about long-term partnership and this one idea of each partner rating their current level of capacity in a given moment was just fascinating to me. and then i wrote this wishing i had someone in my life like that. if that barely makes sense just read and you’ll get what im describing hopefully hehe. i'm in love with this type of relationship so i hope you enjoy <3

————

Sangyeon stepped through the door of your shared apartment that Friday evening to find that you were sitting comfortably in the living room with the television on, the sun having already set and the noise of commuters driving home having finally died down outside. It was quiet and peaceful, and his shoulders instantly relaxed as he finally shook off some of his work worries and thought ahead to the weekend - to finally getting to wind down with you and sleep in for the first time in too long.

“Hey babe,” you heard him say softly as you finally turned to look at him from your spot on the couch. You could see the tiredness radiating from his body, a large hand raking through his hair to push it out of his face as he gave you a little smile before hanging his jacket on one of the hooks you’d put up by the door.

You wished you could smile back but you’d had a rough day yourself - tired from work and getting stuck in traffic as you’d worried about a million little things on the way home.

He groaned as he noticed your expression, finally making his way over to you as he rubbed a hand over the back of your hair softly and gave you a peck on the forehead before plopping down on the couch. You couldn’t help but soften your expression when you felt his calming touches. That was Sangyeon – he was nothing if not instantly calming.

“Tell me where you’re at right now,” he asked of you softly, voice low as if he didn’t want to disturb your quiet. You turned to look at him, your eyes completely drained, and you could see the instant concern that radiated from him as you responded, even through his own tired eyes.

“I’m at like a 3 right now.”

Sometime after the two of you started dating you came up with a system to rate your emotional capacity at any given moment on a scale of 1 to 10. It seemed weird but it was really just a way for you both to quickly gauge how the other was feeling and know whether one of you was able to carry more of the load on any given day. The higher the number, the higher your capacity.

“I’m at a 4,” Sangyeon said immediately, and you gave him a pout.

It seemed like recently whenever you both happened to have bad days he always tried to be just a little higher than you so he could be the one to take care of things – take care of you. He didn’t like for you to worry about him even though you knew he needed to be taken care of too sometimes, just like anyone else. You made a mental note that from now on, you’d say your numbers at the same time.

“Sangyeon. Be honest with me.”

“I’ve had worse days,” he brushed your concerns away, easing around the subject.

You noticed how he didn’t try to insist he was telling you the truth about how he was feeling. Sangyeon always took his words seriously, treating them with a carefulness that almost rivaled how he treated you. He never was one to outright lie, and so after one too many times of buried feelings in the past, you’d learned how to read between the lines of his words. Sure, he may have had worse days, but that didn’t mean today wasn’t a particularly bad one.

You rubbed his arm a few times before shifting closer to him on the couch and resting your head against his chest. He wrapped an arm across your waist and pulled you in even closer, giving you another kiss in your hair as the two of you held each other. His movements comforted you, but you also knew that this was what he did to comfort himself after a long day. Doting on you was how he released his frustration sometimes.

He smelled like the laundry you two did together last weekend mixed with the day’s efforts and a hint of something that you could only describe as uniquely him, and if you were being honest you probably could have fallen asleep right there in his arms. But instead you kept rubbing your hand against his back in that way you knew he liked, hoping he’d relax some more and finally let go of whatever it was he’d been carrying all day like you wanted him to.

Eventually he released a deep sigh at your ministrations, and you felt his muscles relax underneath your palm. You hid the tiny smile that appeared on your lips, burying your head closer into his chest as he finally spoke up.

“Work was just a lot. Has been all week, but especially today.”

You hummed at his words gently.

“Did rehearsal go into overtime again?” And in response you felt him nod against your skin, the crook of his head now pressed into your neck.

“There was this one part we just really struggled to get in sync. And I kept worrying that I was messing up everyone else.” Sangyeon sighed again and you tried to hold onto him even tighter at those words. You knew how much he hated feeling like he wasn’t being a good leader to his group. How much he tended to carry that weight on his shoulders without a single complaint.

“I’m sorry babe. I can tell you’ve had a long day. You must be tired.”

“I’m sure you’re just as tired as me,” he said then, refusing to let you dismiss your own worries in your attempts to comfort him. Your mind drifted back to all the stuff you’d dealt with today.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he mumbled into your neck, breaking you out of your train of thought as he kissed the spot gently. You couldn’t help but smile a little at that despite your stress, combing your fingers through the strands at the back of his head as you thought about it for moment before finally responding.

“Not yet,” you answered. “What I really need right now is you. Holding me. Just like this. I missed you so much today.”

Sangyeon didn’t stress it, simply giving you what you asked for. After years of being together, he knew this was just how you were – you kept the complexities of your mind to yourself until you could really articulate what it was you wanted to say. And he was always there when you were finally ready to lay it all on him, even at the most random of times. He was always waiting for you with open arms, and you loved him for that.

“I missed you too. Did you eat?”

He separated himself from your hold just enough to look at you directly then, and you pursed your lips guiltily.

“No…but I did pick up some takeout.”

You had a bad habit of waiting to eat dinner until Sangyeon got home so the two of you could eat together - especially on Fridays, when he had the highest chances of getting back at a decent hour. That meant that sometimes you went without food for longer than was acceptable to him. Not to mention you’d toss and turn all night from the lack of digestion before bed. When you couldn’t sleep he couldn’t either, no matter how tired he was.

You looked up at him sheepishly then and you could tell he was about to scold you, but before he could, the two of you heard the loud rumble of his stomach.

“Uh…” Sangyeon started with his own guilty look.

You giggled, a smirk forming on your lips. The blush on his face was unmistakable as he averted his eyes from yours, rubbing the back of his reddening neck.

“Let’s eat,” you said, taking charge then.

You got up before he could hold you back with those tempting hands of his and began filling up two plates, grabbing water for the both of you as well and making your way back to the couch. He looked at you gratefully as he took a plate from your hands, eager to dig in. The two of you ate in silence, you spooning yourself up servings of kimchi fried rice while Sangyeon dove into a container of noodles and some egg rolls, his favorite from this spot a few blocks away from your place. He finished his food first, like he always did, sipping on his water as he stared over at you reverently.

“What?” You asked as you swallowed another mouthful of rice, a rare moment of self-consciousness bubbling up inside of you.

“I just like seeing you eat well. That’s all.”

He leaned in then and gave you a peck on your lips. It tasted faintly sweet like the sauce from his egg rolls and even though you knew he was trying to be quick you still got lost in it like you did every time he kissed you, closing your eyes for a moment before he pulled away.

“Uh uh, finish eating first and then let’s get ready for bed,” he chided, and you rolled your eyes, trying to finish the rest of your food as quickly as possible.

You’d already showered so once you were done eating you worked on brushing your teeth and cleaning your face as Sangyeon hopped into the shower. The two of you were so used to sharing space by now that you didn’t even blink twice as he took his shirt off before he even reached the bathroom. He finished undressing and slipped into the stream of warm water while you focused on yourself in the mirror, proud that you only peaked at his silhouette through the shower curtains once while he was cleaning up.

You were in bed laying under the sheets with a book in your hands when he finally got out of the bathroom, a look of pure bliss on his face as he put his towel away and made his way over to your shared bed. You could tell that, just as usual, he was feeling much better after a good shower.

He rolled under the sheets before leaning over towards you, his head craning towards your neck as he gave you another kiss there, this one slightly longer. You could feel the softness of his lips and smell the lavender scent of his shampoo, even noticing how smooth and soft the little bits of his skin that touched yours were from the lotion you always urged him to use.

You closed your book immediately and set it on the nightstand because you knew you wouldn’t be able to read a single word with him right beside you like this. Sangyeon shuffled even closer to you then, your shoulders touching as he raised his head to be at eye level again. His large hand landed on your thigh, the rough calluses of his palm contrasting with how gently he touched you and making goosebumps rise on your skin. You knew he was only touching you in a comfort sort of way but somehow it still made butterflies appear in your stomach - just like the first time the two of you ever laid together.

“Thank you,” you said softly as you looked over at him, not wanting to disrupt such a precious moment.

“For what?” he asked, a genuine curiosity lighting up his face.

You just tilted your head and shook it serenely, a tiny sigh leaving your lips.

“For taking care of me. Even when you’re exhausted.”

‘’Of course. I should be thanking you too, you know. I love you.”

He always said those three words so easily, like he was just breathing in air or blinking. They came out on instinct because at this point it was just a fact - he’d known for a while now that you were forever a part of him, simple as that.

You didn’t respond with words, instead leaning in with hooded eyes and cupping the side of his face with your hand. You kissed him softly, trying to tell him how you were feeling with your lips. Words had never come that easily to you.

He tilted his head and intensified the kiss, nipping at your lips a few times but keeping the pace slow and his kisses deep. You could feel his hair pressed against your forehead from how close he was and after a while it just felt like you were melting into each other somehow.

When you finally parted, he finished with another quick peck before quickly turning out the lamp on his side and pulling you into his arms, the two of you making yourselves comfortable as you laid down in bed.

“Come here,” Sangyeon mumbled in playful stubbornness, pulling you impossibly closer as you giggled.

Your head laid on his chest with an arm draped across his waist while his arm was securely wrapped around yours. The pairs of your legs tangled together seamlessly under the sheets as he laid on his back and you on your side, nestled into him.

As your eyes finally drifted closed, a whisper of “I love you too,” slipped from between your lips while your fingers rubbed back and forth across his wide chest, luring you to sleep.

“I know baby. I know.”

[the-path-to-redemption]

You know after looking back on the show. I refuse to believe that WF just disbanded after Adam defeat because you know who would've finish Adam work and rebuild WF?

The WF lieutenant that was always by Adam side.

If you go back to Vol 2 episode 11. He says these words at the beginning of his fight with Weiss.

"Finally, I get to kill a Schnee..."

And what did we find out about the Schnee treatment with faunus? Oh yeah slave labor and imprisonment for mine for dust. That means he could've been a slave like Adam and why he trust him so much.

Even Rwby: Atmity Arena quotes this about the lieutenant.

"As Adam Taurus' right hand Faunus, this hulking masked figure is a capable fighter with strength, speed, and toughness beyond even his most bestial peers. He has been seen leading many of the biggest White Fang attacks in remnant with his massive chainsaw. Yet none, know what kind of Faunus he is."

You can't tell he would've rebuild WF and become leader to finish Adam work. I would've love him to see him confront Weiss and this time showing her what her family has done to Faunus. Maybe even call out Blake for keeping it a secret about what her friends father has done to Faunus and how she never tole anyone about Adam mistreatment.

Long Post Ahead

Goddamn, I miss Banesaw so much.

He's such a cool looking design, and honestly, yeah I wholeheartedly agree with you on him being the next leader after Adam. Or just him continuing to exist within the Faunus narrative after Adam's death, because he's always been shown to be dutiful in his loyalty to Adam/the WF. Hell, he was the one who proposed to go after Blake after she deserted, and they had that confrontation on the train car during "No Brakes". Banesaw knew Blake, maybe her parents too, and it's a shame that he just disappear after Beacon when he's also a vessel for the nuances in the Faunus story line.

That Amity Arena card is just *chef's kiss*. Look at the supplementary continuing to add onto the show instead of said show doing it themselves and forcing fans to participate in as many products as possible. Not predatory and lazy at all /s.

And yes, Bane's card info was a great look into who he is as a character. His Faunus type being a mystery is also a great chance to look into Remnant as a whole, because it opens so many doors to the previously mentioned nuances. Does the mystery around his trait a result of oppression because his oppressor doesn't care about him at all to even distinct him from the other Faunus, and to them the only thing that matters from Bane was his physical feats? Or does Bane hide his trait to lessen day-to-day racial aggression and it's an unfortunate habit that he had to develop to survive? I love Bane so much, you have no idea.

Him and Weiss is on the same vein as Adam and Weiss; the SDC takes from Faunus until there's nothing left to take, and Weiss wanted to take over the legacy (at least during Beacon Era) without even glancing at their plights because of her own prejudice that she has to work through herself. These are two exploited minorities in front of her, and they could have went somewhere with it in V7 had Bane stuck around. Though I doubt it, with the mess that is Atlas as a whole.

As for Banesaw and Blake, I can see why he wouldn't call her out for not telling Weiss about Adam's brand. That information is not within Blake's rights to tell, because it's Adam's. Adam's trauma should've been his, and that's cool with me. However, Banesaw should have called Blake out for running, for being compliant while their people are continued to be discriminated against, for not fighting and would rather burn down her fucking house to goad a bunch of Faunus to fight for a kingdom that doens't like them when they just wanted to be left alone. Banesaw should have been given the chance to call Blake out for the coward she is, even though she's seen first hand what her friend's family can do to people like them and did nothing.

[oleever-does-stuff]

TADC Yapfest Timeee

As a certified yapper, the need to shove my random assortment of ideas down your throat has been tearing me apart. Therefore, I deem it yapfest time. Also, media literacy is apparently at an all-time low and I am nothing but a product of the environment I am molded in and I require you to understand that.

~♡~

Do you guys know that face Caine made when talking about mixing up NPCs and humans? What do you guys think that implied? Was it a red herring or hinting at something else? Because I so happen to have two things going on in my head.

Firstly and most obviously, I believe that some of the cast are NPCs in disguise. This first came to me with the realization that Jax, Pomni, and Ragatha all sound like real names (Jack or just...Jax, Penny, and Agatha) while Gangle and Zooble didn't (unless there are names similar in other countries I'm unaware of). Then I remembered that Kinger exists, and if Kinger is an NPC I won't recover. The idea that Zooble might be an NPC does seem likely to me for a multitude of reasons.

The first reason: Zooble's refusal to go on Caine's adventures. I doubt an NPC would like to go anywhere in a fake world after discovering what you were. Secondly, Zooble (to me) looks vastly different from the rest of the cast. She looks like she doesn't belong with the other circus members. I can't really find the description of what the rest of the cast looks like other than neat, while Zooble is just a jumble of objects and assortments. It looks like she belonged to a different world and ended up there. That might just be cool character design though and I'm an idiot. Overall Zooble just seems out of place but that might just be because it's episode ONE.

My second idea, one thats been lingering in my mind that Caine himself is human and just forgot after being there for so long. While maybe not as coherent or has as much supportive evidence as the previous it's still there. Perhaps Caine worked for the company that created the Circus, was put in there to run the first run-through, but never made it out. If he was the first trapee, maybe he would have been given host commands, and that would explain why he was the control of the circus (like a party leader).

~♡~

Within my no-sleep-filled fever dream of a mind, this led me to another conclusion. If people had been around this long, why was the game so unfinished? Why were people from the outside not helping. Now this is where my incompetency comes in because due to the Caine actually being human thing I had the idea, maybe the Circus project was abandoned, and that's why the game itself is so unfinished with people abstracting, no exit, things glitching in and out of the world so easily. After Caine they were just like "Oh shit, yeah let's not work on this no more", but people still end up finding their way in. (I also had the idea, as my boyfriend keeps trying to put random numbers in this paragraph, perhaps they queued too many testees. Every time someone abstracts, the next person in line joins but has no memory of that wait.) There's that one thing about Pomni working for the company that created TADC, +8and like I'm not well-versed in TADC theory and canon things I watched like maybe 2 episodes, saw a couple funny posts but...

The place looks run down, abandoned. What self-respecting office space would allow papers to litter the floor. Or a dusty, moldy-looking computer.

It looks like the company abandoned the workplace, this project, everything. Maybe Pomni got put in a queue of sorts, waited until there was an open space available to play. (Kaufmo. R.I.P)

~♡~

A different tangent. I saw something that mentioned TADC was inspired by "I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream". Although I'm unaware how true that is, it does lead me to wonder what the end for Pomni will be like. Will she end up saving the others from the digital hell, but be stuck there forever in return? Would she end up as Caine or be stuck with him to live out eternity?

also this is 100% going to be a problem, look at all of them just chilling.

I wrote this tangent at almost midnight, please forgive me I will edit in the morning (Afternoon).

Edited: more well written

[burnwater13]

Garsa Fwip's Sanctuary in Mos Espa, on Tatooine. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 2, The Tribes of Tatooine. Calendar from DateWorks.

Grogu had heard of ‘Cantina Culture’, but honestly he thought it had something to do with infectious disease control. All sorts of people travelled to Tatooine and as a planet with a limited water supply, hygiene practices that were typical on Corellia or Chandrila couldn’t be readily employed. You had to bring your own sanitizer and you had to understand that the sanitizing stations at the space port near Mos Eisley had run out of sanitizing anything a long time ago. 

He was explaining that all to Peli Motto when she began to laugh, loudly and with more gusto than a serious discussion of public hygiene deserved. 

“Buddy, ‘Cantina Culture’ isn't about that kind of biology. It’s about the people who go to a cantina and the sort of things they expect of that cantina. For instance, here, everyone who goes into the cantina knows ya gotta be able to play sabacc. If ya can’t play, ya stay. Simple rule. Now, take Mos Pelgo…”

Grogu waved his hands to interrupt her to no avail.

“They… Okay, okay, Freetown, whatever. Any how, up there ya gotta have a spotchka. Ya gotta share the latest gossip. Ya gotta laugh at the Marshal’s jokes. That’s how they roll up there. Over in Mos Espa, well, there you better have more credits than ya know what to do with. Those Twi’lek dancers and servers will spend it for ya before you can say, ‘No, I don’t want my boots polished’. Even if I had boots needing polishing I wouldn’t let them do it at three times the cost of having the pit droids do it. Ridiculous waste of credits.”

She stopped talking to take a breath and then didn’t start back up. 

“Where was I? Oh, yeah, depending on the town, the people, the products available, and a bunch of other factors, every cantina you walk into is nothing like the last cantina you were in. That’s ‘Cantina Culture’. I’m surprised yer dad didn't explain that to ya. Although, come ta’ think of it, do Mandalorian’s even have cantinas?”

Peli was looking at him expectantly as if he and his dad had been to a bunch of them over the course of their adventures. He shrugged at her. He didn’t think that Mandalorians bothered with stuff like that. They were too busy trying to make sure that ex-Imps weren’t hiding around the corner from everywhere they were.

“Well, when yer dad gets back, he can tell us all about ‘em.”

Peli had settled the matter to her own satisfaction and then walked back to her office, yelling at the pit droids to get her boots and start polishing them. Grogu giggled at that. You never knew which part of a conversation you had with her was going to be the part that stuck. Grogu doubted that she’d remember to ask his dad about Mandalorian cantinas and what kind of culture they had. 

Grogu thought that was a silly question any way. Based on everything they already knew about Din Djarin and the handful of other Mandalorians he’d met, Grogu could tell you just what a Mandalorian cantina was like. 

First, it wasn’t called a cantina. It was called a ‘bar’. It was called that because cantina sounded too fun and tavern was too friendly. ‘Bar’ conveyed the right sort of purposefulness of the establishment. Get in, get out, get back to work.

Mandalorians were very deliberate people and they didn’t mess around with subtleties. You lined up at the bar top and were given a drink with a straw and you put your foot on the bar at the bottom of the structure to allow you to rest a little. No chairs. No tables. No booths. No music. No decorations. No problems. 

Grogu had no doubt that they entered and left in shifts and were only allowed there at certain times of day and on certain days of the week. Organized, methodical, routine, predictable, boring certainty. 

Then he considered what a Jedi cantina would be like. He sighed and laughed at the same time. His first thought was that it would be empty and his second thought was it would be the absolute opposite of a Mandalorian bar. It would be filled with sound. At least two or three different sources of music would be present and playing at the same time. You would just focus on the one you liked better and you wouldn’t even notice the others. The furniture would look like it had been found at a recycling center. It would be every size, every style, every color and just pushed into the large room in a manner that would immediately suggest that it had once been used to barricade the entry. 

Grogu didn’t know who would have been foolish enough to try and attack a Jedi cantina. Only a bunch of fools. Of course the Jedi wouldn’t have called it a cantina either. They would have given it a semi-ironic nickname like a ‘watering hole’ or a lounge. The images those names evoked were almost opposites and that's just what the Jedi would have been counting on. No reason to advertise that the location was primarily about goofing off and playing chess or darts with your fellow knights and masters, no padawans allowed. 

He giggled at that. He suspected that rule would apply to younglings as well, but he couldn’t imagine a Jedi watering hole that would have been able to keep Ian out. His friend had an absolute sixth sense for spaces like that and had made a regular study of them at the Jedi Temple. That’s how Master Yoda’s private swamp ended up hosting a younglings festival night when the powerful Jedi had been called away to travel to Trymant IV.  Grogu wished that event had established a youngling cantina culture, but you couldn’t hide a fifty foot water slide from Master Yoda, no matter how many of the younglings worked together to make it disappear.

“Hey buddy, I’m back. Peli said you wanted to go to the Cin Vhetin.”

The Mandalorian was suddenly there and seemed pretty happy for a change. 

Grogu asked why.

“Peli said you wanted to see a real honest to B’Omarr Mandalorian drinking establishment. One just opened here in Mos Eisley. If we go now they’ll still have Fire Stacks. You won’t want to miss them.”

Huh? A Mandalorian drinking establishment that served food? You could have knocked Grogu over with a feather. His dad wanted to get something to eat that wasn't a ration pack? Grogu jumped up into his dad’s arms and bumped his head against the Mandalorian’s helmet. He thought it was important to encourage his dad to go new places and try new things, especially when he was along for the ride.

[80s4life]

Pawns”

Word Count: 4,522

Status: Requested!

Ask: Pleeeeeaase write more of Cal from titanic. Literally any prompt I’m so hungry😭

Ask #2: Pleasee could we have more cal hockley content, specifically more chapters for "the things I've never done" and even more short stories if you have the time, I love your work 💕 [THANK YOU SM! I WAS STARTING TO GET SELF CONSCIOUS OF MY WORK AGAIN]

Ask #3 will have an attachment to a separate Cal fic as well, so no request will be shown here until that one.

@: Three cutie pie nonnies!

Relationship: Caledon “Cal” Hockley x Female!Reader

Fandom: Titanic 1997

Summary: Thrusted into the roaring 20′s, all you wanted to be was free and outgoing as all the booming women in city. However, your father’s deal with the devil seals your fate in the hands of your advisor and boss, Caledon Hockley; a man who is haunted by memories, stubborn in his ways, and opposed to the newfound strength in the young women of America. You’re a slave at his will in his eyes, yet you’re just as free as the new reformed women in your own. You’re stuck at a standstill in this endless game of chess, but who’s the pawn?

Warnings: forbidden, early 1900′s morals and customs, Reader is a maid, Cal is the head of the house, Post-Titanic sinking, mature language, kinda spicy, PTSD, domestic violence (included in a PTSD episode ONLY), Kind of a Beauty and The Beast AU for inspiration

{gif is not mine, credit goes to @locke-writes​}

It was all an act of practicality from the start: your father owed his father money and he had a set of nimble hands to rid himself of. 

Nathan Hockley was a millionaire who dealt in the steel tycoon business in Pittsburgh. Your father had a habit of gambling with the wrong people, which had allegedly caused your father to have an uncomfortable run-in with the powerful man. Unable and too stubborn to do so, your father handed you off as a way of reparation for the damage the bastard had caused.

Nathan’s son, Caledon Hockley, was the exact replica of his father. He was cunning, stubborn, powerful and wealthy; a disrupting mixture of facets that could either lift or crush you with a simple snap of a finger. He was dangerous, among many of his other qualities, which made your business in the Hockley’s presence just that much harder.

With the pandemonium that followed the sinking of the Titanic in 1914, the physical and mental effects had taken ahold of Nathan’s deeply treasured and only son, practically keeping him on house arrest until he was “better”. However, to both Nathan and Caledon’s dismay, 6 years had done nothing for his declining health, the reasoning behind why Nathan had administered you into Caledon’s household in the first place.

All of these events have led you up to this point, your suitcase rolling behind you as one of the many maids in the manor lead you up to your room to unpack. You haven’t seen this young and precarious man yet, but something is telling you that you most likely don’t want to. You are soon to be given your list of instructions to follow immediately and precisely; left to your own devices to either stay afloat or drown in the fury of the Hockley men.

Maria, a young maid in her 20′s, around your age, approaches you with a pure and youthful grin, a light blush to her cheeks. Her hair is cut into a cropped bob of black hair with short but soft curls, her lean frame with modest green eyes making her endearing - intoxicating. “You must be Miss Y/L/N?” her cutesy, high pitched voice only adding to her allure and picturesque innocence.

“Yes, that’s me,” you mutter, displaying your hands as if to show yourself off in sarcasm.

“No need to be so glum!” she giggles, bowing her head to catch your eyes and raise your line of sight. “I’m Maria Espinosa, but I’d assume the least you’d want right now is formalities.”

You snort, but let her continue nonetheless.

“I’ve your instructions - written myself, of course!” she smiles brightly; any harder and she might break her face. “As you know, with your appointment into this manor, the rest of the faculty will be let off, per Nathan Hockley’s request. But, don’t fret, the list is simple, short and can last all day without having to pay too much mind. Every Tuesday and Thursday, there will be a grocer that will restock the cabinets, refrigerator, etc. and help you with the cleaning. You are not to touch the east wing and only reside within the west - this will help eliminate the messes to clean and prevent extra exertion-”

“Sorry, if I may be crude, why are we not to go in the east wing?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

“It was...” Maria drifts off, choosing her words lightly, “After the accident in 1914, the east was torn by his own hands. It was once used for balls and such, but after the Titanic,” she whispers the name as if someone might hear her, “Caledon was bedridden and sick, upset, angry, any emotion in the book. He used that wing as a way to let those emotions out.”

You stay silent as you stare at her with morbid curiosity and fear, nodding once before returning your attention to the list. The rest seems easy, not like the job was ever hard to begin with, just an annoyance for better words. 

Maria clears her throat, “Anyway, you must make at least two meals a day, mainly breakfast and dinner, both at 8 am and 8 pm. Caledon might decide not to have lunch some days, but if he does, make sure it is brought to him by 12 pm. He doesn’t like tardiness, so as long as you follow the rules as tightly as you can, you won’t be a target. Any questions?”

“No, no. I’d presume you’d want to be heading out?” you smirk at her mischievously and instantly watch as her taut muscles relax.

“Very much so, yes! It’s been forever since I’ve had a moment of freedom.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you shoo her off playfully. This is your family’s mess to clean, the least you can do is let her be free of the shackles that are now passed down and chained to your ankles. 

Maria is halfway through the door when she turns to you from the foyer, “I’ll do a monthly checkup to make sure everything is in line, and for a little company in your lonesome, okay?”

You smile gratefully, hands coming up to play with your nails, “Thank you, you’re very kind. Though, I don’t want to be a burden.”

“A burden? You just gave me my freedom!” she exclaims, laughing as she waves a hand. “I’ll be back by the end of the month! Settle in and enjoy the quiet!”

The moment the door slams shut, your shoulders droop heavily. Your eyes scan the spacious mansion with frightening curiosity. You’ve never even remotely been near land such as this, and now that you’re inside, it feels almost too much. You let your hands glide the carved wooden banister as you walk up the huge steps to the second floor, taking a left down a hall.

Your legs carry you down the long corridor, and, as you place your key into the fob, your eyes lay onto the door across from yours: ‘Lord Hockley’ carved neatly on the door. There’s a rustling behind it and footsteps that approach the other side of the door, eliciting you to push the key one click further and dive through the door as quickly and quietly as possible.

You flop onto the bed with a huff, trying to calm the beating of your heart just enough to allow you to unpack and prepare dinner within the course of 3 hours. When your room is finished, you nod in satisfaction, taking a bath in the connected bathroom and changing into a thin, sheer dress before exiting your room and back down the steps to the kitchen.

Finally do you take the time to read the list on your own. It includes very detailed and descriptive instructions, easy nonetheless, of medication usages and what to do with each, meal plans, recipes, a map of which rooms to clean and how to clean each one, and Caledon’s nightly and morning rituals to follow precisely.

Shrugging your shoulders, you roll your neck to release the tension before opening the cookbook up to the recipe designed for today’s date. “Pork roast,” you state alloud, cringing at the echo of your voice being followed by more movement in Hockely’s room.

Your mind roams as your eyes get lost at the sight of the luscious woods out the window, hands deftly whisking away at the pork roast’s grease with the intent of making a nice gravy to coat the dry, but tender pork roast. Shaking your head, you peer down and try to busy yourself with the already settling boredom you’re consumed by. 

You can hear the halls creak, the water drip from the faucet, birds chirping outside, the soft sway of the wind, random clicks, ticks, and other noises. You’re destined to go insane.

You jump unexpectedly with the sound of a crash from upstairs. The noise comes from the general direction of Caledon’s room and you all but groan at what the sound indicates -  what your being here demands. 

Putting the roast of low, you close the lid with a soft click before ascending up the stairs to Caledon’s room. You stand outside the door, hand on your heart, as you try to calm your rapid heartbeat and breathing. This was to come about sooner rather than later, so you should be glad it’s happening now. However, the banging continues within the room and you know that even if you had met him in a few months, the hell that follows him would never be escaped for as long as your father’s debt remains.

Knocking on the hard wooden door, you speak softly, “Lord Hockley? Is everything alright?”

You’re not given an answer, only the sound of something heavy being thrown and falling to the floor.

“Lord Hockey?” you call out again, louder this time. Unsurprised, you are followed by no answer once more. Annoyance creeps into your words a third and final time, “Lord Hockley, I will come in there myself if you do not open this door. Now,” you demand.

Shrugging when no voice calls to you form the other side of the door, your hand twists the doorknob and pushes the door open. You legs carry you only so far before they stutter to a stop just past the door frame. 

Just before you, there is a disheveled, sweaty Caledon Hockley, fit from youth and some maturity in his thirties, shirtless. His eyes look crazed, like a madman, as his hands grip a chair at his desk with white knuckles. Around the room, there’s shelves torn down, broken, books in a disarray on the floor. His bedsheets are thrown about with the other chair from his desk propped against the wall in his fury.

You stare wide-eyed, but somehow, not alarmed in the slightest. You were accustomed to this sort of outburst, especially within the hard working men. You saw it in your father - even in your younger brother. “Lord Hockley,” your voice is softer again, all annoyance and anger lost at the door. 

His eyes snap up to you, as if he had just noticed your arrival or presence. “What are you doing in here? You are not to barge in a man’s room, that is uncouth for a woman of your age and status. What is wrong with you?”

“Lord Hockley-” you try to start your confession.

“A woman is not to speak up to a man; are you ferel? Are you-?”

You don’t allow him to finish his slandering, “-I am mentally efficient, Lord Hockley, and very aware of my positioning here. However, I did knock, three times to be exact, with no answer. There had been a ruckus in here for about-” you peer up at the clock above his desk, “-an hour and a half now. I came to be of assistance, but if my help is unwanted, I’d happily leave you to your self-pity on your own?”

He has no other emotion present except bewilderment plastered to his face; eyes wide, mouth agape, and at a struggle for words. His fists clench and unclench as his eyes pan down to stare at the floor, appearing deep in thought.

“Lord Hockley, if I may be so bold?” you ask, scanning his body language and searching to find the meaning of this man’s crazed outburst.

“Go ahead,” he mutters, a hand going up to rub some hair from his eyes, still staring at the floor. 

“You may confide in me if that means helping your mental health?” you offer. You know this could go one of two ways: either one, he’ll turn you away, suffer alone, and claim that men have no such weaknesses, or two, he’ll let his guard drop and release him from these dark episodes he’s no stranger to. The latter seems rather unlikely.

“I am not mental.”

“I did not say that. I was simply insisting that everyone has a dark place their mind goes to, which is a detriment to a person’s mental health. Let alone someone who is expected to heal quickly and pick up the family business, am I correct?”

Just as you thought you were getting somewhere, Cal’s eyes snap back up to yours with anger, the malicious anger tearing at his body again, “You know nothing of my family’s business and nothing of me. You have no audacity as to even assume or place yourself in my shoes. I should have you thrown out or hanged for your mouth alone. Get out!”

“Just trying to be of service, sir, since I’m at your will!” you smile sickeningly, bowing to him and sliding through the door just as a book is picked up and thrown.

You let out a deep breath of air on the other side of his door, now in the safety of the hallway. Your throat tightens with a soft sob, tears welling in your eyes. You truly feel as a prisoner on death row, hands and ankles encased in heavy metal cuffs; struggling to walk under the watchful gazes and heavy chains slowing you down, keeping you locked in this manor. 

You weren’t the perpetrator, you know this, but you were framed to support the guilty with your own naivety and love.

You drag yourself back down to the kitchen to finish the man’s meal with dejection, but still devoted for the greater future - when you no longer have to be a maid in this manor and be free, lost in the world again.

“Lord Hockley?” you call once more at his door, only this time, you’re holding his tray of dinner. “I have your meal, are you decent?”

You hear a muffled ‘Yes’ and proceed through the door cautiously.

It seems he’s settled now, sitting at his desk with notes and papers scattering the floor and desk. He hadn’t cleaned the room, which you suspected you’d have to clean in the near future. However, you notice the bed is drenched in liquid, and when you look back at him, you notice sweat beading at his forehead, a thin sheen of sweat glistening against his skin.

“Lord Hockley?” you call again, stepping closer towards him. He chooses not t answer you, so you press further. “You’re sweating.”

“I’m very well aware of what my body is doing.”

“Are you feeling ill? I can help you if-” you are cut off by his fist meeting the solid oak of the desk.

“I do not need any assistance from the likes of you, nor do I want it,” his voice is stern, scary.

You try not to lose your temper so easily this time, so you give him a kind, tight-lipped smile. “Of course, my lord, you are a man after all. A man is able to take care of himself just fine, though he installs many maids within his manor. Maids like me,” you giggle dryly, “What shall I do instead, since you are able to clean, cook, and much more without the help of the ‘likes of me’?”

Caledon only groans, “Just leave the food here, you are dismissed. I’ll leave my tray for you to clean in the morning.”

“Oh, how kind,” you roll your eyes, scurrying to the door.

“Oh, and Miss, maybe you could find a better countenance and leave your convictions in your pillow when you arise. Wouldn’t want to explain to my father - and yours - as to why you were no longer needed and let go.”

You can hear the sinister smirk in his voice, but you choose to ignore it - for now -  and head to bed briskly.

The next two weeks follow you in a similar form. You do as your told, albeit begrudgingly, and get into many of your childish arguments. Your interactions with the man are nasty and violent at times, always finding yourself dodging an object, taking threats, and coming in the next morning asking for more. 

More, more, more; you ask for more because there is nothing else to be given. You have to take everything as a grain of salt. You have to because this means your father’s life and yours. If you manage to screw up, and you will, they will not only have your father’s head, but yours for Caledon’s punctured ego.

Though, somewhere within those weeks, you started to care less and less.

“Lord Hockley?” you knock at his door, tray of food in hand. He once more gives you no answer, so you push in.

Greeted by no light in the room, you walk around in the darkness, knowing this room like the back of your palm now. Placing the tray of food on the oak countertop and go to strike a match, lighting the candle on the desk. Going around the room, you light each and every one of them until the room is dimly lit enough to see.

On the bed, you find Caledon, sweat having gotten worse as you’ve noticed he never leaves his room. When you step closer, he is shivering, teeth chattering. Worried, you go to place the back of your hand to his forehead, but quickly draw your hand back when he jerks upright.

“Lord Hockley!” you jump, the ghost of his skin still lingering on the pads of your fingers. “You’re burning up, I need to help assist you now. You’re very ill and the sickness has gone on long enough-”

“No!” his voice rips through you quiet pleas, rattling off the walls.

“But, Lord Hockley-”

“I said ‘No’! I do not want assistance, I am a grown man!”

“’You can take care of yourself’, yeah, yeah, bullshit!” you scream, the frustration, fear, and hurt finally meeting your words as you are blinded by your emotions.

“What did you say?” Caledon looks at you in disbelief.

You cringe as you can guess what is about to take place in mere minutes, but you don’t hold back anymore. “Is your bigotry deafening your hearing or did you hear me call bullshit?”

Shakily, Caledon gets off his bed, his frame towering yours as he glares down at you with pale skin and dark, chocolate brown eyes.

“Your father wouldn’t want you to be sick, knowing that you would have to run his business soon.”

“My father-” Caledon cuts himself off, a hand going to wipe his face. “This has nothing to do with the business.”

“No? Well then, why else would I have to pamper you like a king? Is it because you’re defective?”

Caledon’s pacing now, trying to calm his increasing ragged breathing.

“Or is it because your useless to him? Mentally unstable?” you continue, trying to get a rise out of him.

“You know nothing of his business nor my personal life!” Caledon snaps back to you, anger finally bursting.

As his anger ensues, he takes steps close to you each time, piercing his thick index finger into you chest for emphasis. “You are nothing, you are worthless. I am a wealthy businessman. I am a strong, independent man with power. People would miss me if I were gone!”

“If you’re such a big man, you wouldn’t lock yourself away in your room like a toddler.”

That’s what finally did him in. You pressed a personal button when your short quips finally hit a nerve, testing his masculinity. Before you have time to react, a glass vase is hurled at you. It was a short throw, and was nowhere near your face, however it caught you by surprise and smashed against your hip.

You ignore the pain, though all you wanted to do was bury yourself in a hole. You came here to help him, but all you are returning is anger and hurt that is most definitely placed at you. 

“You’re sick and it is my job to take care of you, so your father won’t have my ass because his baby boy isn’t okay. It’s my job to make sure you are very well satisfied. It is my job that you get your linens washed, food prepared, room cleaned, and make it my duty that your estate is fully functioning all on my own!” you jab a finger in his direction, placing more distance between your bodies until your back hits his door, his body on the other side of the room behind his desk.

He goes to say more, but you cut him off with more furious blows.

“Though, what isn’t my job is to allow you to threaten me. It isn’t my job to be belittled and yelled at by you. It isn’t my job to allow you to throw objects and whatever anger you have and hurl them at me! That is not my job, nor what I will allow any longer!”

“I never asked you to be here. I didn’t want you here. You forced yourself into my estate to protect your father. You knew what you were getting into just by the public papers alone. You knew what was to be expected and yet you came here anyway. You made a prisoner and a victim of yourself.” Caledon’s gaze does not falter and neither does yours.

“You’re correct, Lord Hockley, I may have known what I was getting myself into. What I didn’t know nor expect was the childish frustration and blatant disregard for human decency. I’ve tried over and over again to be kind, but against your better judgement, you couldn’t allow me to be the person to hold such compassion.” 

Your eyes are welling up with tears now as you feel a warm liquid flow down your palm and to the tips of your fingers.

“You do not understand what is bothering me and you never will,” Caledon finally starts to calm himself, the self-pity returning as he recounts lost memories you cannot decipher.

“No, but I have made it abundantly clear that I was here to help assist you. However, you saw it as being weak, so it wasn’t in your cards to even allow me the common courtesy of being a human being. You felt as if I was lying to you.”

“God, you are so annoying,” Caledon groans.

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“You know, when you’re silent, I almost like you -  wait, are you injured?”

“No!” you yell almost instantaneously. 

“Did I do that? Its dripping on the floor, what happened?”

“The glass,” you almost stutter, the atmosphere changing quickly. “The glass shatter and cut some of my hand, I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt.”

“And, you’re ill.”

Caledon sighs, his shoulders slumping. Motioning for you to exit the room, Caledon says nothing as you make a silent pact to clean up. 

You are suffering whiplash from the sudden change of emotion and it leaves you on edge, but with the cooling of his mood, it allows the adrenaline and some stiffness to leave you. Confusion overtakes your mind.

Guided into the kitchen, you start to take out numerous medications, searching for something to accommodate his symptoms. Caledon walks up to you quietly, almost afraid to get too close.

You do not say or look at each other, finally finding the right medicine and sliding it to him on the counter before sitting down on one of the bar stools. He sits beside you carefully, taking the medicine. 

Taking some gauze and wiping away the cuts with an alcohol wipe, you struggle to wrap your hand. That is, until a warmer, larger one goes to encompass it gently, waiting for an action of opposition to its intentions.

Caledon gaze burns the side of your head before you finally acknowledge him with fear. Softly, he starts, “…Just allow me to help?”

You nod softly as the tears form in your eyes again. Some time passes before you finally work up the nerve to ask, “Why do you do this?” 

Caledon looks up from you hand with confusion, which urges you on to elaborate, “Why does your mood change so swiftly, so suddenly?”

Sighing, Caledon gives you a firm look, as if he’s deciding whether to trust you or not -  to tell you. “The Titanic,” he starts, “When I survived, I lost almost all of who I was. When I returned home to my father, I was constantly burdened with memories. They would consume me, control me, until I felt like a madman. The only solution was anger. When the anger takes control, there is no longer that burning sadness, guilt, and regret; no hoping I’d done something differently. I couldn’t allow myself to do that because I was no longer that man anymore.”

“It’s scary,” you croak, peering into his eyes.

“It is, but what’s worse is the life I’ve lived after the episodes. My father found me defective, worthless. I will never be able to fully recover, which is bad for business. He locked me away in this estate to stay hidden from prying eyes, bedridden to remain unseen even in this secluded property. I insist on doing the simplest actions myself because it makes me feel as if I’m showing my father I am still capable, just changed.”

You nod slowly as you take in this new information, grateful. The man has finally opened up to you, he’s no longer a stranger in his own home as it seems.

Calmly, Caledon pats your hand, signalling that the wrapping is done. A hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair from your face, resting it on your cheek just afterwards. “I know I’ve hurt you, but please, try to understand me, I’m not asking for your forgiveness... I just wanted you to understand-”

“You don’t need to ask that, I already forgave you a long time ago,” you smile softly, placing one of your hands on his opposing cheek. “We will learn to adapt, just as you have many times before. We are no longer strangers, yeah?”

“Yes,” Caledon smiles with glossy eyes.

“We will work on this together. You are not alone anymore.”

Caledon looks at you with uncertainty.

“I am here, always. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Kissing his forehead softly, you other hand goes to be placed on his shoulder, “Repeat it.”

“I am not alone,” a tear slides down his cheek.

“Not as long as I’m alive,” you smirk, placing a kiss to each of his eyelids.

“Never again,” the both of you say together, lips finally meeting as if to seal the promise the both of you now shared deep in your hearts. 

“Never alone.”

[necrotic-nephilim]

HARD AGREE on the “Jason would not be pacified by Bruce considering killing the joker” Bruce does leave the joker to die, in an era where Bruce left kgb to die, not far off from casually throwing out “I’ve killed in self defence before” lines and those not being stamped out by the editorial mandate. Bruce’s morality at the time is a little more complicated. Exceptions can be made.

But Bruce, in grief, in despair, giving up, because Jason is dead and *joker will never stop being a problem* allowing joker to fall into the river, and then what? I think about a year later joker recovers from the mental episode that interaction and injury gave him and goes back to killing and Bruce has lost his conviction to do what jason sees as right. Jason would be MORE mad. I think Jason, late into his robin run and in uth, can’t believe Bruce is anything but detached from the people because he is clinging to the “antiquated sense of morality” and he wishes his death were the thing that finally shook Bruce by the shoulder and made him take it personally. But Bruce is already taking it personally, lmao

I do disagree a bit on jason being motivated purely by Bruce’s love, instead of seeing murder as the solution to a problem, but I can admit that I *want* to see that, and even then I think it’s both. Pragmatism AND revenge, and both are reasons Bruce does not think excuse murder. Jason is simultaneously valuing some lives above others (innocent VS guilty) and devaluing the act of intentionally murdering or killing in comparison to the numbers game. And there is something hypocritical about that, but very human.

(Metatextually I love how what Jason came back with was like a clinging to the time he was born/created in and every other Batman character moved on, but Jason’s stuck in Jason’s comics.)

somehow this got longer than the post it's jumping off of, so i added a read more just to not spam but oh the thoughts i have <3

i ABSOLUTELY agree on bruce's morals being far more complex than ever given credit for. there's this belief he's very black and white and perfectly stable in his anti-murder mindset, and even pushes it onto other characters. but that's really not true- he regularly works with and gets along with people who are pro-murder, and his *entire* issue is he's always thinking about murder. he's always tempted by that edge, which leads to situations where he *might* leave someone for dead if he's caught on the wrong day. because yes he's anti-killing to the extreme degree, but he's anti-killing because he *wants* to kill, not bc he doesn't want to. he's so tempted, especially when it's personal. Bruce routinely *will* get personal in a fight. the reason he can't make an exception (like what Jason wants) is because it's a dam, for Bruce. and if the dam breaks, the dam breaks. he firmly believes if he slips once, he will never stop falling and that's why he *can't* kill Joker. not because he doesn't want to, not because he hasn't thought about it. so yeah, it would piss Jason off more to know Bruce was considering it briefly in that arc, bc at the end of day, he didn't. he never falters. not even when faced with the loss of *Jason*.

i absolutely see your point, i think Jason post revival is incredibly pragmatic in how he kills. and there's a pragmatic angle to killing the Joker, for him. it's a pure logistical issue that he outright states- there's a *difference* between Joker and any other rogue. Joker exists in his own league and killing him will undoubtedly save lives. and so, there's that angle of purely wanting the Joker dead for the numbers game.

but the way Jason approached that conversation, to me personally, was from the perspective of himself as *Robin*. when he spoke about "if it was you [...] i would've done nothing but search the planet [for Joker]", he was speaking from the perspective of his child self. because Jason fully believes had the roles been reversed when he was Robin, he would've killed Joker. (and i agree, he would've) when i say Jason was fueled entirely by love in his violent actions, i mean Robin!Joker, because Jason is processing this both from the perspective of his current changed self, and the dead version of himself he no longer is. the current Jason views murder pragmatically, but a Robin Jason viewed it through a lense of revenge, and he understands his love for Bruce (when he was that age) through that lens, and believes it should've been reciprocated by Bruce in that manner. and so much of UTRH is a trauma response and fueled by Jason's emotions, to me personally! the pragma is put aside, because he could've killed the Joker a dozen times, but he didn't. he needed Bruce to kill the Joker.

and you brought up a great point about how Jason was disillusioned by Bruce even when he was still Robin. fanon like to paint Bruce during Jason's Robin run as a perfect fatherly figure and all of that time was completely loving, but it wasn't. Bruce regularly was sort of shitty to Jason and Jason's hero worship view of Bruce faltered because of Bruce's detachment and how he grossly mishandled certain things, in Jason's eyes. so in a way, i think Jason is desperately clinging to the belief that this detachment was temporary and it was something they would've worked through and that Bruce still loved him. because Jason is someone who's constantly in his head about whether or not he is to blame for his own death and if Bruce blamed him too. i think it's *why* Jason needs that proof of love from Bruce in killing Joker- because it will at the very least mean that even at their worst, Bruce loved him and could cross the line for Jason. but he won't. that's why it all comes down to love for me, but i definitely agree there is a pragma to it as well!! i just think it's emotionally driven first, hence not shooting Joker in front of Bruce immediately.

also, GOD i love metatextual discussions surrounding Jason. i love metatextually discussing the whole Batfam, but Jason specifically is fascinating, how much of his character and story will be forced to play out certain beats and never fully move on from them. because in the text, we're at the point *every* member of the Batfamily has died. some of them, for significant periods of time. Bruce's death arc was iconic, Dick had his death and subsequent Spyral arc, Damian was dead for quite a bit, and so on. but most of those events aren't lingered on in comics and aren't considered to be important to characterization. they were important singular arcs, but are not titular to these characters.

but with Jason, he was backed into a wall the moment he came back from the dead. because most fans -self included- don't have recent memory of reading comics in a time where Jason was still dead. he's been alive for nearly two decades (or: over two decades if you count Hush) and yet, because he was dead in comics for *so long*, the luster of his return is something that'll likely never wear off. characters in comics come back to life all the time- but not after almost two decades of being gone. we had the Bucky Clause for a reason- it was understood by fans no one is really dead, except Jason Todd, Bucky Barnes, and Uncle Ben. (and i always find it delightfully fun both Jason and Bucky came back in 2006.) it was just a hallmark of comics. so Jason's return was a big deal, it was a spectacle and his entire character was formed around it. and now, comics are never going to let him move on from it. no matter how many times he does, we're going to fall back to bringing up his death, his trauma, the Joker, his morals. he can stop killing for a month and get along with everyone, and then he'll backslide. because the comics don't know what else to do with him.

and that's not a dig at Winick -who wrote most of Jason's comics during his era of return- i think Winick did fantastic things with Jason and could've developed Jason in really interesting directions had he been given the space to. but because there's always a writer and editorial shuffle, it's about what DC at large is doing with him. no matter how much growth and development any writer will pour into Jason, he *will* backslide. it will become about his death and his Robin era again. it's why we keep retelling and retelling his death story (two different animated movies atp, with a *just* announced new one in the works for him and Dick) in adaptation rather than building off of it. it's rare and unique for a character to come back like this.

and being a Winter Soldier fan as well, it's interesting to me, given he's the only character who's comparable to Jason, having his death be such a big moment and then be dead for years. because while Bucky's death and his time as a teenage sidekick are certainly emotionally significant to him, they're really not what the bulk of his runs focus on. he gets to develop nuanced relationships and have interesting arcs and development outside of his backstory. so it's certainly doable, but it's not being done with Jason. which is frustrating bc to keep from rewriting identical comics, Jason's personality just gets changed every new time we retell this story. it makes him feel inconsistent and it makes stories written about his Robin era now feel unreliable in characterization.

and it makes for a bizarre difference in the way Jason's death is treated versus everyone else's. because sure, Jason's death holding more weight canonically makes sense, he was dead for years and he was the first real loss that the Batfam felt. but he's not the only one who's been changed by death- not even the only one who's been changed by the Lazarus Pit in the Batfam. so much of his character surrounds his death and his feelings about it. like you said, everyone else has moved on and he hasn't. i'm always interested in how to handle metatextual reasonings for things vs the textual canon when it comes to the significance of events or things feeling OOC. because i personally think Jason would move on eventually. not that his angry would go away or he would forgive Bruce, but he just has other shit to do. he deserves other wants and goals and there are a lot of interesting places to take him. but there will never be any real commitment to any change made to him so instead, at best he feels static and at worst he feels OOC and inconsistent. which sucks, bc pre-Flashpoint Jason was one of my favorite characters and there *are* post-Flashpoint stories i like with him, that i think were doing interesting things. but it's hard to get into a Red Hood story when you know nothing about it is going to matter in a few years and the cycle will rinse and repeat.