#will be the source of ‘oh that was so nice of you but it’s not keto so I’m not gonna have one’

[niwaart]

Secret of the Shadows

(Y/N Constantine x Batfam)

-part1..

It was just another night in Gotham—dark, restless, and thick with the promise of trouble.

Oracle’s voice crackled through the comms, sharp with urgency. “Bats, we’ve got a situation. Armed mercenaries just snatched a group of civilians, demanding ransom. No IDs yet, but they’re moving fast.”

Batman’s jaw tightened. “Track their route. We need a location.”

The Batcomputer whirred, but before Oracle could narrow it down, Red Robin spoke up. “I’ve got it. Abandoned warehouse near the docks—southside. Camera feed caught suspicious movement.”

Nightwing shot him a glance. “That was fast.”

Red Robin shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

Batman didn’t question it...not yet. Civilians came first.

The team moved in. The fight was brutal—gunfire, shouts, the desperate cries of hostages. They subdued the mercenaries one by one, but the last thug had a child in his grip, a gun pressed to their temple.

“Back off!” the man snarled. “Or I swear I’ll—”

A loud CRASH cut him off. A chair from the second floor slammed into him, knocking him out cold. The child stumbled free, and the vigilantes looked up, just in time to see a young man dusting off his hands, his binds clearly cut.

“Nice throw,” Red Robin muttered under his breath.

Y/N smirked, then he looked at Red Robin for a long time, then winked at him.

Red Robin barely suppressed a grin.

As the team secured the scene, Red Hood lingered, his helmet tilted toward Red Robin. Then, toward Y/N.

Something wasn’t right.

Back in the Batcave, Batman reviewed the footage.

“Red Robin,” he said, voice low. “How did you locate that warehouse so quickly?”

Tim didn’t flinch. “Like I said—cameras.”

Oracle frowned. “I hadn’t even pulled up that feed yet.”

A beat of silence.

Nightwing crossed his arms. “Okay, spill. What aren’t you telling us?”

Before Tim could answer, Red Hood leaned against the console. “Oh, I’ll tell you what’s up. Red Robin’s got a source.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “What source?”

Tim exhaled. “Fine. It’s my roommate.”

“Your roommate?” Dick repeated, incredulous.

“Yeah. He’s… observant.”

Jason snorted. “Observant? That guy in the warehouse? The one who mysteriously got free and took out a guy with a chair? That’s your ‘roommate’?”

Bruce’s voice was steel. “Who is he?”

Tim hesitated... but not because he didn’t know. Because he did.

“His name’s Y/N,” he said carefully. “And before you ask... no, he’s not in the system.”

Batman’s glare darkened. “Why not?”

Tim rubbed the back of his neck. “Because he… particular about privacy.”

Jason scoffed. “What, is he some kinda spy?”

“Worse,” Tim muttered. “He’s John Constantine’s kid.”

Silence...

“What.”Batman’s voice was dangerously calm.

Dick blinked. “Wait. The John Constantine? The guy who—"

“—makes deals with demons and pisses off every magical being in existence? Yeah. That one.” Tim sighed. “And before you freak out, Y/N’s not like him... Mostly.”

Bruce’s fingers clenched. “You’ve been hiding this. Why?”

“Because Y/N asked me to,” Tim admitted. “And because Y/N’s helped me out more times than I can count. He’s not a threat.”

Jason crossed his arms. “Then why’s he sneaking around Gotham?”

“Because someone has to keep an eye on the magical side of this city,” a new voice drawled from the shadows.

Everyone turned.

Y/N leaned against the Batcave entrance, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. “And let’s be real... Bats sucks at magic.”

Bruce’s eye twitched.

Y/N strolled forward, hands in his pockets, completely unfazed by the fact that he’d just walked into the Batcave uninvited.

“So,” he said, glancing around. “this is Batman's secret cave? Cozy.”

Batman stepped forward, looming. “How did you get in here?”

Y/N grinned. “The magician does not reveal his secrets.”

“Y/N,” Tim warned.

“Fine, fine.” Y/N rolled his eyes. “I hitched a ride on Red Robin’s bike. Magic cloaking. Easy.”

Jason looked at Tim. “You let him?”

Tim shrugged. “He was gonna follow me anyway.”

Bruce’s patience was thinning. “Constantine’s son.”

Y/N mock-bowed. “The one and only.”

“Why are you in Gotham?”

“School. Rooming with Tim. Avoiding my dad’s endless messes.” Y/N smirked. “And, y’know, keeping demons from eating people in the alleys. The usual.”

Dick frowned. “Wait—you’ve been handling magical threats alone?”

“Not alone,” Y/N corrected, nodding at Tim. “Birdbrain here helps. When he’s not busy being obsessive over cases.”

Tim elbowed him. “Rude.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is a security risk.”

“Oh, relax,” Y/N said, waving a hand. “I’m not here to cause trouble. Just keeping the balance.”

Jason studied him. “You’re way too chill about this.”

“Eh. You get used to weird when your dad’s Constantine.”

Bruce exhaled sharply. “You’re staying off the radar. No more interference in Gotham’s affairs.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Or what? You’ll bench me?” He snorted. “Please. You need me. Gotham’s magical underbelly’s been stirring lately. Big players moving in.”

Tim nodded. “He’s right. We’ve been tracking—”

Bruce cut him off. “We’ll discuss this later.”

Y/N smirked. “Sure thing, Boss Bat.”

Jason choked back a laugh.

Dick sighed. “This is gonna be fun.”

In Gotham Rooftops – Later That Night

Batman’s cape snapped behind him as he landed heavily on a gargoyle, glaring down at the figure lounging on the adjacent rooftop.

Y/N, legs dangling over the edge, tossed a glowing blue flame between his fingers like a coin. "Took you long enough. I was starting to think you’d given up."

Batman’s voice was pure gravel. "You’re interfering."

"Interfering?" Y/N gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "Me? I’m just enjoying Gotham’s lovely skyline. smog pollution really brings out the city’s charm."

Batman’s eye twitched. "Leave."

"Make me."

"..........."

"This isn’t a game."

"Never said it was." Y/N smirked. "But here’s the thing... you’re saving the city, but you’re not its mayor. So if you want me to leave, you’ll have to get permission, Boss Bat."

Batman’s jaw clenched so hard Tim, listening through the comms, winced in sympathy.

Batcave – 10 Minutes Earlier

Dick Grayson leaned back in the Batcomputer chair, spinning lazily. "Okay, but seriously... how have we never heard of Constantine having a kid?"

Jason, polishing a gun, snorted. "Probably because the bastard forgot he had one."

Dick tilted his head. "Or… hid him?"

Damian, sharpening a knife, scoffed. "Tt. As if Constantine could be competent enough for that."

Oracle’s voice chimed in. "Actually, according to my very limited files, Y/N’s existence was scrubbed. Professionally. Like, League of Shadows level."

Jason whistled. "Damn. Daddy issues and a secret identity? Kid’s got layers."

Tim, typing furiously on a tablet, didn’t look up. "He’s also right here on comms, you know."

"Aw, you guys do care!" Y/N’s voice dripped with amusement.

Dick grinned. "So, Y/N... magic, huh? Can you, like, turn people into frogs?"

"Only if they really annoy me."

Jason smirked. "So… can you do that to B?"

"Oh, absolutely... but then who’d pay for my tuition?"

Tim choked on his coffee.

Damian rolled his eyes. "This is ridiculous. We’re discussing magic as if it’s some parlour trick—"

"Magic," Y/N corrected.

"I said what I said."

Back on the Rooftop.....

Batman had had it.

"You’re not trained."

Y/N rolled his eyes. "I grew up with John Constantine. You think Gotham’s scary? Try watching your dad drink with a demon before breakfast ."

"You’re reckless."

"Tell me about it."

Batman’s patience was gone. "If you get in my way—"

"—you’ll what? Ground me?" Y/N grinned. "Face it, Bats—you can’t kick me out just because I exist here. Unless I break a law, you’ve got nothing."

A long, long silence.

"...Fine." Batman turned sharply. "But if I see you near a case—"

"Yeah, yeah, you’ll grumble at me. Noted."

Batman vanished into the shadows.

Y/N smirked. "He so hates me."

"He so does," Tim agreed through the comm, laughing.

In Jason's safehouse.....

Jason tossed Y/N a beer. "So. Constantine."

Y/N caught it, snapping the cap off with magic. "Yep."

Dick leaned forward. "Is it true he sold his soul twice?"

"Three times, actually. Third one was for a really good kebab."

Damian, arms crossed. "Tt. Liar."

"Ask him yourself." Y/N took a sip. "He’ll absolutely deny it, which is how you know it’s true."

Dick, quietly: "…Do you like him?"

Y/N paused. "He’s my dad. It’s… complicated."

Jason snorted. "Ain’t it always."

Tim flopped onto the couch beside Y/N. "Okay, but real question—can you actually turn people into frogs?"

Y/N’s grin was wicked. "Wanna find out, Replacement?"

Dick immediately grabbed a notepad. "I volunteer Jason—"

"HELL NO—"

Laughter echoed through the safehouse.

Somewhere, in the shadows, Batman has a big scowl on his face.

[faghubby]

Friend in need

I sat up as John slid under the covers with me.

"Shh, it's okay Paul, Amy told me all about your arrangements months ago. John slid up next to me his hands running over my satin covered body. Then he turned my head and kissed me. Softly at first. Hen he pushed his tounge into my mouth. His kiss became hard and wanting as his hands pulled up my nightie. I was finally able to pull away a little.

"John I'm not" I started but his hand gripped my ass. And I just moaned.

"I know you're a little sissy cuckold. I also know you clean Amy up after she fucks other guys. So I figured you like to get it from the source" John told me leading my hand to his crotch.

"If you let me I would love to help you become a woman" John asked.

"John you, I mean I dont" I stuttered.

"Amy is getting split roasted by Tommy and his cousin Kyle downstairs" he told me. "Does that make you excited?" He asked grabbing my crotch.

"OH, What the" he flipped back the covers and yanked down my pink satin panties to expose my steel chastity cage. "Amy fucks your ass doesn't she?" He said excited. His cock now fully hard. He didn't say another word. Instead yanked my panties off. Grabbed the lube off the nightstand and pushed his fingers into me as he kissed me.

"You are so eager, Amy must have a huge cock. Or is there someone else?" John laughed. As he positioned my legs on his shoulders and drove his big hard cock into me.

"Ohhhhhhhh" I moaned. I had never experienced a real cock. And John had a nice powerful one. I was being fucked by a man. Was A,y right, when she would call me a faggot. Was John gay? God he was pounding my ass.

"Role over bitch!" John told me. Bringing me back to reality. He pulled out and I got on my knees. My head pushed into the mattress he drove his cock back into me.

"You are one noisy slut" John said slapping my ass. I had not even realized how much I had been moaning. I pushed back to meet his thrusts. I suddenly felt the bed shift. Someone pulled my hair.

"Eat my dirty used cunt faggot" Amy said as she slid in then let go of my head. My face smashed into her. My face was covered in cum and I started to lick her clean.

"Did you tell Joe you would love to swallow his cum" Amy teased. Suddenly Joe tensed pushing deep I felt him pump his seed into me.

"Your a woman now Paula" Amy teased. Joe laid in the bed next to me as I continued to clean Amy. He started to pinch and rub my nipples. I made Amy cum on my tounge as he did.

"I am going to leave you two alone, unless Joe wants a ride?" Amy asked him seductively.

"Depends" he grabbed her ass.

"OH sweety, you need a hot ass stick with Paula, I don't do that" Amy told him. Joe turned back to me.

"Let's get you cleaned up" he pulled me out of bed and into a shower. He scrubbed me down. "-You are so soft and smooth" he told me as he rubbed my nipples again. As soon as we got out of the shower. Joe pushed me to my knees his cock hard again. In the light I was able to admire his thick long cock. The veins bulging the head already purple. I licked and sucked him. I amazed myself by how much I could take, I had practiced on Amy's fake cock. But this was different harm and inviting. I ,massaged his balls. They seemed so big and heavy even after he had just filled my ass. His stamina was amazing my knees had started to throb by the time he grabbed my hair and buried his cock down my throat. I tried to relax as he shot his load into my stomach. When he stopped I licked him clean.

"You are one dirty slut, I am going to have Amy give you to me" Joe told me. What did that mean, I didn't care as he led me back to bed. We slept naked Joe spooning me. I still wanted more as I was leaking from my cage.

I woke to Joe pushing his cock into my ass again.

"Beg me to own you, tell me you want to be mine" Joe told me.

"Yes, take me" I moaned. I opened my eyes to see Amy watching me get fucked.

"That what you want to be Joe's sissy slut" she asked. I nodded.

"Yes, do you mind?" I wimpered.

"No baby, you're Joe's now. You will never even look at pussy again" she smiled.

That very day she had Joe move all my things into the spare bedroom. I was even more surprised when Joe moved his things in as well.

"You're mine now, and you will never pretend to be a man again" Joe told me throwing out almost all my boy clothes. Except the few he modified to make them look more slutty. Over night everyone knew, even my mother. Neither Joe nor Amy did anything to stop the rumors. Although Amy didn't have a boyfriend she hardly ever slept alone. While Joe made sure I became a proper slutty housewife. The three of us lived very nicely together. And Amy was right I never will see a pussy again, not sure I want to

[lou-struck]

Cold Panic

Barbatos x reader

Wc. 2.7k

~ The Castle's annual garden party is tomorrow, but after a mix up delivery, the whole event is in jeopardy.

The first thing you notice when the castle doors open for you is the rich smell of the freshly cut arch of roses decorating the entryway. 

“Cool isn't it?” Little D Number 2 smiles popping up next to you. “Barbatos made it this morning, he even picked all of the roses himself.”

“So that’s why he wasn’t answering my messages earlier,” you sigh looking around at the cleaner-than-normal foyer. “The Garden Party tomorrow is a pretty big deal huh?”

The demon nods furiously, “Super Big. Are you here to see Lord Diavolo?”

“Barbatos actually,” you reply. “I was worried he was overdoing it and wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help him.”

“That’s so nice of you,” the little demon says. And with a flash of his pointed teeth, he scampers down the hall. “He should be in the kitchen, I’ll walk you there.”

~

The kitchen is organized chaos. Aside from the overflowing island of ingredients and baking equipment, every surface is covered in platters of expertly prepared treats that look like they came straight out of a Michelin Star restaurant. 

Barbatos stands over a tray, piping some kind of cream over the freshest batch of goods. He looks exhausted and his apron is dusted in flour. But when his eyes land on you, they light up.

“Oh Mc, this is a pleasant surprise.” he smiles walking around the kitchen island,“ What can I do for you?”

“Nothing,” you smile, giving him a hug when he is close enough to do so. “I just wanted to see how everything was going. Do you need any help with anything?”

“Actually I am just finishing up here,” he says proudly. “The ice sculpture I ordered for the head table should be arriving tomorrow morning and the last round of deliveries got dropped off an hour ago.”

“Even the Candles?” you ask excitedly as the image of the flower-shaped candles you had designed appears in your mind. “Those will make great gifts for the guests.”

“I agree,” he nods, “I had heard they arrived but haven't had a moment to quality check the shipment. Would you like to come along?”

Eagerly you shake your head and take the butler's extended hand, still gloveless from his baking, and follow him through the kitchen to the storage bay. Under the dim hallway lighting, the dark pavement ripples under your feet as you scan the mountains of parcels and deliveries. 

Ripples?

“I think I stepped in a puddle,” you say sloshing through the thin layers of water coating the ground. “I hope you guys don’t have a leak.”

Barbatos stops in his wet tracks and with a flick of his wrist illuminates the room. He doesn't breathe, not as he follows the trail of water to a crate tucked away in the corner. The color drains from his face, “It can’t be,” he breathes, splashing over to the source of the mess. 

“What is it?” you call after him.

“I believe,” he sighs reading the shipping label stapled to the top of the crate. “This was supposed to be the ice sculpture for tomorrow.”

Coming up alongside him, you watch as he pries open the lid and looks inside the container. Instead of finding the majestic blue phoenix ice carving the butler had commissioned, the bottom quarter of the drate is filled with water, a floating red ribbon, and several bobbing ice chips. “Oh no,” you breathe watching the ribbon bob in the water as more and more droplets steadily leak through the holes in the crate. “I thought the sculpture was supposed to be delivered tomorrow?”

“It was,” the Butler frowns. “There seems to have been a mixup on their end. With such a high-profile client, this kind of accident shouldn’t have occurred.”

“What are we going to do?” you ask, the stress of this situation flips your stomach. 

It only takes an instant for Barbatos to return to his usual, unfazed self. With a deep breath, he forces away the troublesome emotions that inconvenience him and flashes you a smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. “First, I must clean up this mess. And check the other shipments for signs of water damage.” 

“ I can help with that,” you offer quickly. 

“You needn't trouble yourself Mc,” his voice all politeness as he tries to shoulder this burden himself. “I should’ve been around to check off the deliveries as they came. You shouldn't have to do anything to fix my previous mistake.”

Barbatos can do just about anything. Anything except asking for help when the going gets tough, all you want out of your special relationship with him is for him to trust you to help him, even when it’s not an emergency. “It’s not your fault,” you say stubbornly. “You said it yourself that the shipment was expected to arrive tomorrow. I’m here, and I’m helping whether you like it or not.”

The room is deathly quiet for a moment as the last of, what you thought was a pep-talk, echoes through the storeroom. His face is unreadable as he stands in the pool of water, growing higher by the second as the remains of the ice sculpture leaks through the cracks in the wood.

And then… He laughs

The sound isn't one of those usual polite chuckles he makes when one of Diavolos guests tells an overused joke over tea. This laugh is unrefined, merry, and something you would do just about anything to hear again. “I apologize for my rudeness Mc, it’s simply no one has spoken to me like that in quite some time.”

“I felt like you needed it,” you say gently. “I want to be able to help you out more.” 

His lips brush against your temple as an apology you are more than happy to accept. “In that case, I would love to spend more time with you.” He scans the room and his eyes land on a set of three stacked packages. “I think the candles are over there, would you please check and make sure the water hasn’t damaged the shipment?”

You nod and slosh through the puddle to the cardboard, water has begun to seep up the surface of the containers, darkening the exterior considerably. The top one looks to have been untouched by the mess and with a sigh of relief, you move it to the side and look at the ones below that weren't so lucky. 

Fearing the worst, you peel off the damp tape and open the flaps. “How are the candles?” he calls. “Are they damaged?”

“The box is wet,” you respond, pulling out a tightly packaged candle, a few droplets of water drip from the outside, but it seems to have not been able to reach the product itself. “The candles are still wrapped up so it looks like the water didn't get to them.” 

“That’s a relief, those candles are so lovely, it would be a pain to have to remake them ourselves.”

“You can do that?” you ask, clocking the intricate waxy floral design of the rose candle in your hand. If it weren't for the thin wick poking out from the center, you would think it to be a living blossom. 

You can hear his amused laughter from the broom closet, “Of course I can Mc. I figured my position as a Butler may one day require it so I picked it up. I hate to ask, but do you think you can unpack these and dry off the packaging for me?”

“Of course,” you smile, jumping at the chance to take something off his plate. 

“Thank you, you are such a big help,” he says, placing an enchanted mop into the center of the puddle. The fibers drink up the mess, and you watch as the water ripples and flows inward, shrinking in size until it disappears completely.

“Woah, I have to get one of those mops,” you say in amazement. 

“You think so?” he hums regarding the tool. “I think I have another laying around somewhere, after I finish making a new ice sculpture I’ll find it for you.”

“That would be gre~ Wait” you stop and take a moment to decipher that nonchalant second thing. “Are you really going to just whip up a whole new ice sculpture?”

He laughs warmly, making your insides feel as if you have just had a fresh cup of tea. “Whipping would be absurd. But I can crave one fairly easily.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?” you tease lifting one of the boxes and following behind the butler to the kitchen. 

He holds the door for you giving you a glimpse of his knowing smile. “I’m sure there are a few things.”

~

Hundreds of floral candles sit atop the kitchen counter air drying as Barbatos works diligently on the giant block of ice he had stored in the bowels of the freezer. 'Just in case’ he had told you as he emerged with a red nose and frost on his fine eyelashes. 

The sound of metal chisels on ice is remarkably soothing to you as you continue to cross a few more items off of the Butler's list. 

The frigid air brushes against your skin, but you keep a careful eye on the open door just in case it were to close, turning him into the Devildom’s most perfect popsicle. 

A kettle hums on the stove, not quite whistling, as you search through his tea collection for something warm-tasting to help him fight that bitter cold. 

You flip through the fruit, the florals, and the strange until you find an interesting smoky sage flavor and toss it into the pot with some honey crystals. 

The sweet, amber liquid flows into one of the larger mugs that warms your hands as you carry it into the freezer, passing racks of rare demonus bottles, meats, and something that resembles a body until your shoes crunch the curled shavings of ice leading up to the nearly completed ice sculpture.

“Hey, I made you something warm but it looks like you’ve been working up a sweat.” You tease,  holding out the mug which he graciously accepts. 

“ I admit, I have made more progress than I ever hoped I would tonight. I believe it has to do with your presence. Inspiring me with every hammer of the chisel.”

He steps back to take a sip of the tea, giving you a full look at the design he has created. A hyper-realistic icy floral display. The frozen petals look as if they have come straight from the garden itself. You cannot imagine that the sculpture the Castle had commissioned looked anywhere near as beautiful as the statue standing before you.

“This is… wow” you sputter out, unable to think of any other word that can describe the piece of art in front of you. “I’m blown away.”

“You approve of it?” he asks, and you can tell from his tone that he is searching for your admiration, desperate for your warmth to be directed towards him.

“It’s breathtaking,” your voice is soft as your hand moves on its own, entranced by the crystal petals that may or not be an illusion. You have to check. He doesn't stop you when you touch the icy surface, he knows you would never damage anything he has created with his own two hands. “How much more do you have to do?”

“Not much longer,” he says, looking over his creation critically. “There are a few imperfections in the leaves I need to smooth out but then I believe I could call it a night.”

“Can I watch you work?” you ask hopefully. Getting the chance to watch Barbatos hard at work is more entertaining than most of the stuff on TV nowadays.

“If that is what you wish, I would love your company.” he smiles a cloud of condensation spills from his lips, fogging his safety goggles as he reaches for a small silver chisel on a nearby shelf. “But if you get too cold, don’t force yourself to stay in here. 

“I won't,” you assure him. The cold from the freezer begins to prick at your cheeks but you don’t mind it, not when you look at the Butler's rosy ones and the delicate shavings of frost that stick to his eyelashes. 

If he can brave the depths of the freezer for as long as he has, you can bear to spend a few more minutes with him.

His movements are precise as he makes dozens of tiny angled jabs at the shaved ice block, the last few leaves and flowers bloom under his care, looking just as real as the others. His eyes never leave the project, but you have a slight suspicion that he is showing off just for you.

You’re hypnotized by his concentration, watching his skilled hands create life out of water with bated breath. Your body shivers as it is overtaken by goosebumps but you barely register the sensation until the near musical sound of scraping and shaving ceases and he pulls up his goggles revealing his vibrant, jade eyes.  

“I believe I have finished,” he says, stepping back to look over his work with a semi-proud smile. “Do you see anything I may have missed?”

You look over the stature as he steps behind you. Although he has been sitting in the freezer far longer than you have, his arms still feel warm when they wrap around you from behind. “It’s perfect, Barbatos. But I think there is one thing missing.”

“Oh?” He sounds momentarily surprised as he places his chin on your shoulder. “And what would that be?”

Looking down at the blank base of the statue, you lean back and sigh against his frame“There’s no signature. Don’t artists usually sign their work?”

You can feel his chest leap with his laughter. “Would that amuse you?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, I suppose I can oblige this request of yours and take credit for the work I have done.” He picks up the smallest chisel for the last time and kneels to reach the very bottom of the ice sculpture. The part that will be covered by the table runner and begins to etch his name on the ice. “There, now we are finished.”

“But no one will be able to see it in that spot,” you pout.

“That’s the point,” his smile is devilish as you approach the base. You know that malicious compliance is kinda his thing but you were hoping he would allow himself to receive a bit of praise for doing the impossible. But then, you see it, gleaming proudly on the bottom. Barbatos x Mc.

“Why is my name on it? I didn't carve anything,” you ask, stunned by the gesture. Your relationship with Barbatos isn't really one he likes to show off, so him doing this, declaring you are his on this centerpiece of the Garden Party is pretty big for him.

Even if no one else can see it. 

“If it weren't for you, Mc I never would’ve caught the melted Ice Sculpture in time. So sculpture is just as much yours as it is mine.”

“That’s s-sweet,” you shiver as the biting cold finally gets the better of you. “N-now can we go somewhere a bit warmer.”

“Of course,” He says, guiding you through the freezer urgently. “I’ll make you a cup of cocoa and draw you a bath in my quarters.”

“In your quarters?” you repeat, a smile tugs at your lips as his cheeks redden. 

“I figured you should stay here tonight, it is far too late for you to walk back to the House of Lamination and I would hate for you to catch a cold. 

“I see, that is very considerate of you.” you smile, “And since you have been working so hard today, I see no point in preparing a guest room.”

“Now that is considerate,” his fingers massage the small of your back as he leads you down the warm hallway. “I suppose there is enough space in my bed for the both of us.”

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network

[its-luna-noel]

fluctuations of the mind | jason todd x reader

02. wilde

summary: working at the local library while you work on your phd thesis seems like the perfect fit. you don't expect it to bring your childhood friend back to you after over a decade. now that you have him back, you refuse to let him go, no matter the challenges you face together.

contents: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, english phd student reader, fluff, angst, smut, drinking & drugs, past abuse, trauma, mental health issues, mental instability, ptsd, depression, suicidal ideation, classic literature, dark academia

word count: 2.4k

chapter 2/? (probably 20ish) prev chapter | next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hello! specific content warning for this chapter: drug use. thanks for reading!

“Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.”

― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

~

It’s quiet between you and Jason for a few moments as you both sip at your drinks. You’re keeping your eyes on him, making sure he doesn’t either up and run or just disappear into thin air like he did last time.

You weren’t lying when you said you won’t let him leave again.

“So,” Jason soon asks around his mug, “how’s school going?”

You shrug a little. “Good.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “That’s all I get?”

You huff playfully, your own smile curving your lips. You gaze at him for a moment, examining him. You like seeing him smile. “It’s really nice, actually. I’m starting my research and writing the thesis for my dissertation right now, and I’ll have it approved by my advisor in a few weeks.”

“What are you writing about?”

“Crime and Punishment.”

He hums, eyes lighting up. “Dostoyevsky, huh? What’s your angle?”

“Not a hundred percent sure yet, I’m still looking at sources. Something about the psychology of murder through his writings or something.” Your eyes shift away, suddenly shy.

“Hey,” he says, nudging your foot under the table, “don’t be embarrassed. It’s okay not to know what you’re writing yet. You’ve got time.”

You offer a weak smile. “Anyway, what have you been up to?”

Jason blinks, seeming surprised you asked about him, which is silly because of course you did. You want to know everything about him, want to know what he’s been up to since you were kids.

“I, uh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have an…internship.”

You chirp, “Oh, cool! What kind of internship?”

“Uhh,” he says again, and you’re not sure if he’s embarrassed to admit it, “I can’t…really talk about it. Signed, like, an NDA and stuff….”

“Oh.” You deflate a little; you won’t lie, it disappoints you, to have secrets between you. But you understand that, in this, he doesn’t really have a choice. “I get it.”

He nods, seeming relieved. “But I, uh, I’ve been reading a lot. Like, a lot. So whenever you need a friend to talk literature with or bounce ideas off of, let me know.” He smiles again.

You can’t help but smile back. “Sounds great. Maybe we can have a two-person book club.”

He chuckles, sipping at his tea again.

You pick up your own mug and realize it’s empty. You suppose that this is as good a time as any to call it a day and head home; you have class in the morning, and a commitment to get to tonight on your way home.

“Well,” you sigh, glancing at the time, “I think…”

“Time to go?” he asks. He sounds a little disappointed.

You nod, your expression mirroring his. “I have errands to run. But…can I see you again?”

“Of course, bug,” he says. Like it’s not even a question. “Whenever you want.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you tease. Then you gesture to his pocket. “Can I give you my number?”

He nods, digging it out of his pocket before tapping away at the screen. You recite your phone number for him, and you feel bright and content for the first time in a while as he promises to text you.

Before you leave, you wrap him up in a tight hug. “Missed you, Jay,” you whisper, squeezing him.

He squeezes you back. “You too, bug.”

And you turn and walk down the street, humming happily to yourself as you go.

~

Jason knows he shouldn’t follow you.

He knows this, and yet here he is, trailing after you up on rooftops, helmet in place and leather jacket pulled around his shoulders. You left the coffee shop smiling, seeming so happy, just because you got to see him.

“Can I see you again?” you asked hopefully, and all he could do was say “Of course,” because he couldn’t bear to disappoint you.

As he watched you walk away, a pep in your step as you turned to walk home, he groaned and rubbed a hand over his face with a sigh. Then he jogged to his car and grabbed his helmet, switching out his winter coat for his leather jacket before following after you.

And now he’s tailing you, watching you walk home, still bundled against the bitter cold of Gotham City winter.

You live in Cherry Hill, you told him when he asked. Made it out of Park Row now that you receive a stipend for grad school along with working your job at the public library.

In all respects, you’re a success story.

So why does Jason feel like there’s something you’re not telling him?

He hops from roof to roof, his footfalls silent as he watches you from above, watches you tuck yourself into your coat and hurry along the sidewalks. You look over your shoulder every few moments, and Jason’s heart aches to think that you haven’t grown out of your Park Row habits of always watching your back wherever you go.

But then he sees someone in a black hoodie emerge, and his body tenses.

The person, a tall, slim figure, heads straight towards you, and Jason’s hand goes to the holster on his hip, quickly freeing the gun. He doesn’t aim it, not yet, but he watches you closely to make sure this stranger doesn’t make any sudden moves.

The figure makes their way over to you, and you lift your face, and Jason can see from this distance that you’re not scared. In fact, you seem to be expecting this person, whoever they are. He squints, trying to see you more closely, to see what the hell you’re doing with a random stranger in the street–

And then two small baggies exchange hands, and it finally dawns on him. You’re making a drug deal.

He rocks back on his heels, stunned. Memories of watching his mother – or, the woman who raised him – do the exact same thing, buy from shady figures in the street and bring substances home to smoke or shoot up in their dingy old apartment in Park Row. He remembers the night when it all became too much and swallowed his mother whole, leaving her dead in that same apartment. Leaving her body for him to find. Leaving him to pick up the pieces.

And you know that.

You know what it was like for him to have to bury her. You know what it was like for him to go through watching her slowly kill herself, slowly drown herself, slowly take herself away from him. You know what it was like for him to turn to crime, because he was desperate, because it was all he had.

You know that, and yet here you are, going down the same path she did.

And Jason finds that he’s angry. He’s furious with you, furious that you would do something like this when you’ve seen the consequences, when you’ve seen what it does to the bystanders. Once again, he’s going to be collateral damage to somebody who only cares about themself, who only wants to numb the pain and doesn’t give a shit who it hurts.

So once the deal is complete, and your hands are tucked into your jacket pockets, hiding the little baggies there, Jason drops down onto the fire escape above you with silent feet. He calls out, voice modulated through his helmet, “You shouldn’t be doing that, you know.”

You just about jump out of your skin.

You whirl around on your heel, searching for the source of the voice, and when your eyes find him, massive and imposing on the fire escape, your eyes narrow.

You’ve never been one for heroes, if that’s how you view him; Jason knows this, just like you know better than to get high and start down a path you can’t help but drag others down.

You gesture towards him, towards the guns on his hips. “What?” you ask, grimacing up at him. “You gonna shoot me for buying some weed?”

Jason can’t hold back a scoff at the idea. There’s that nasty attitude he thought you’d grown out of. “It’s a slippery slope,” is all he says in return.

You scoff, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets, like you’re trying to hide away your sins. “A little weed never killed anybody,” you snap back. “Don’t you have a patrol in Park Row you’re late for?”

Jason’s jaw tightens; so you know of him, the Red Hood. You know his territory, that he’s the vigilante of your old neighborhood, watching out for those who can’t protect themselves. 

He replies, “Maybe weed hasn’t. But what’s in that second baggy of yours?”

Your eyes dart away for just a moment. Just long enough for him to know he’s right.

He grabs the metal banister and leaps over it, dropping to the sidewalk beneath. Then he takes a step forward, then another, until he’s in front of you. No longer dressed in the thick winter coat he was when you went out for coffee and his face fully covered by his helmet, he’s not concerned about you recognizing him.

He puts his large hand in your coat pocket, feeling the heat of your body through the fabric, and grabs the two bags.

One is, indeed, a few grams of bud, already starting to stink through the bag. The second, though, is a white powder, something he’s familiar enough with. He hums, voice low and threatening as he raises his eyes back to yours. “Coke? That your poison of choice?”

You grit your teeth, hands balling into fists, but your voice is calm and even when you speak. “Sometimes. What’s it to you? I didn’t think you were involved in the War on Drugs.”

He scoffs again, tossing the baggies onto the sidewalk. They sink into the thin dusting of snow that covers the concrete. “Hey, if that’s what you’re into, far be it from me to judge. But maybe you should use that brain of yours before you end up in deeper shit, with track marks up and down your arms.”

You scowl at his words, but stand firmly planted in place. He has to hand it to you; you’re stubborn enough to keep your eyes on him, even while your precious drugs lay there on the ground.

He takes a step back, eyes on you. You still don’t move. Maybe you’re not as desperate for a fix as he thought. “What’s even the point?” he wonders aloud.

Your eyes narrow. “You don’t know what it’s like,” you say, “to need to escape. Clearly you don’t, or you wouldn’t be asking me that question.”

Jason glares at you through his mask; what do you know about needing to escape, compared to him? Sure, you grew up in Park Row, and you saw some shit, surely. But nothing you could go through could match what he has.

He thinks about how he buries himself in his work, in his violence. How he lets himself get hurt just for the pain, just for the subsequent mental numbness it brings.

Surely you have to know that someone like him, a monstrosity like him, has to numb the pain, too.

And so he takes another step back, shaking his head, like you’re a lost cause, because maybe you are. Maybe you’re not the little bug he used to know anymore; maybe the two of you have irrevocably changed and will never be able to meld back together like you once did. Like Dorian Gray, maybe you were hiding hedonistic acts behind a pretty face.

Not that he’s not hiding his own secrets and violence under the helmet.

“Make sure you know your sources,” is all he says next – he doesn’t let a single thought slip otherwise. “Don’t want to find a body littering Cherry Hill one day.”

And with that he’s gone.

You’re breathing heavy, shoulders heaving as you stare after his shadow disappearing into the early night that plagues the winter in Gotham. Your hands are shaking, though you’re not sure if it’s anger or fear or whatever else you’re feeling in this complicated tangle in your mind.

You crouch down and pick up your two baggies from where they lie on the ground, now covered in snow. You shake them off and wipe them on your coat before stuffing them back in your pocket, grumbling wordlessly to yourself as you turn and stomp your way towards your apartment.

You triple check the door is locked behind you. Old habits die hard.

Then, once you’re safely in your apartment, in your quiet environment away from the grunge of Gotham City – and away from the opinions of its overzealous inhabitants – you sink down onto the couch and toss your drugs onto the coffee table.

You sit and stare at them for a long moment, thinking.

Then you reach down and grab your swishers, and you start rolling.

It’s a mindless task, almost second nature now, with how often you’ve done it. It allows your mind to wander, to think about your day, your interaction with Jason and how much it meant to you.

How much you’ve missed him.

But it also brings back bad memories, memories of Park Row, of what he left behind when he disappeared. Memories of darkness swallowing you whole until you weren’t even sure you were human anymore.

And sometimes, maybe those thoughts continue to stick.

So once your first joint is tightly rolled, you light it up, resting it in your ashtray as you roll the rest for next time. Allowing yourself to sink into the false peace that the drugs start to pull you into, the temporary reprieve from the memories, the anxieties, the low thoughts that threaten to pull you under.

That’s something that Red Hood surely will never understand.

And then you think of Jason, and what he might think, if only he knew. Now, instead of just drowning out your memories, you’re drowning out your guilt, too.

thanks for reading! -luna xx link to ao3 | next

(taglist: @corpsedogs, @lulawantmula)

[posycries]

Honestly, I think the writers needed to wrap up the storyline with Chris in Texas before Eddie has another life-altering thing happening to him like realizing he is bi/gay while re-establishing himself back at the 118. I’ve considered Eddie being in survival mode for awhile now and hasn’t had time to really process his emotions/who he is as a person. He was focusing on his son after all and not his romantic life.

Eddie doesn’t seem like the kind of man to be like, “Oh, I’m gay/bi?! Amazing! Let me kiss/date/fall in love with Buck right now!”

I feel like him making that realization might take an entire season. Any time he has a dilemma in his life, he freaks out for a long time about it, questions himself. While Buck does question himself, he jumps in fast when he knows he wants something.

Maybe it would have been nice to see Eddie and Buck hug at the end of the season finale and you can see Eddie go, “Oh my god,” as it dawns on him.

So it makes sense to me that this season teased it a lot, more so than ever. With Tommy and Maddie’s conversations with Buck. That’s the most we’ve ever gotten, but it’s also not nothing.

I can see Buck falling first, because he’s been having those conversations and already knows he’s bi. But with Eddie, I don’t see the crush, the romance. Buck is still his “bro.”

Honestly, Eddie gives the most macho/I’m a manly man vibes than all of the other men in the 118. Not saying he can’t be queer and manly. I think it’s going to take awhile for Eddie to realize his sexuality, come to terms with it. He emphasizes being a “Diaz man” a lot, and I can see his upbringing keeping him from fully accepting himself which in his case will most likely be really hard (source: me, an ExMormon bisexual).

I think the writers thought Bobby dying + Buddie spark would have been too much all at once. Maybe they want to make sure they get it right. That’s my hope.

I haven’t been on the 911 internet conversations long enough to know all of the Buddie lore. I personally didn’t see a romantic connection between them until I saw that people were shipping them.

So I can see the writers still going at a slow pace especially with who Eddie is and Buck’s current denial. I think Buck’s denial right now is his brain trying to save him from the pain he’d feel knowing he loves his best friend (…been there, and I was a Mormon figuring myself out 🥹). And once he feels that, there will be a lot of pining on his end.

The writers aren’t going to make Buddie easy. TV isn’t really known for instant gratification story-line wise, and if the writers know and want Buddie together and the fans really want them together, they’re going to draw it out. For views, for online discourse.

Sorry this was all over the place, my thoughts are scattered.

And if we go only from buddie stand point.

It isn't the fact that nothing happened.

It is the fact that they practically suffocated us with buddie content, got our hopes up and then nothing happened.

Also the fact that everything happened off screen yet again.

This is the reason why I don't watch active shows anymore. Because I am starting to get tired of baiting.

[canisalbus]

*gasp* ITS THE PERSON WITH THE SICK DOG ANTHRO DESINGS AND INTERESTING AS FUCK LORE WHO'S ART I FOUND UNCREDITED ON PINTEREST!! I HAVE FOUND YOU IN THE WILD! FUCK YEAH

.

[la-lune-chante]

this panel absolutely DESTROYS me

[vaguely-concerned]

I can't believe I have 100%ed mass effect andromeda multiple times and it just hit me that the jardaan are named that b/c. y'know. jardin. garden. because they're gardeners of life/their whole deal was to create the we are as space gods slash mad scientists sci-fi equivalent of the garden of eden. I may be a bit slow on the uptake in some ways

[sydney-carton-of-sour-milk]

The Many Illustrators of A Tale of Two Cities 7: A. A. Dixon

"'Collins' Clear-Type Press, let me ask you a question.'"

This is a very long post.

This week's edition has, in my research, become quite the edition.

Sadly, this image is the best source for the cover wrapper illustration that I could find.

You are likely familiar with Arthur Augustus Dixon's illustrations for the 1905 Collins Pocket Edition of A Tale of Two Cities. Several of them are very common to find in Internet searches and articles about the book, if not other editions of the book itself.

But the question raised by my research for this week's edition is: Are you familiar with all of them?

Thing is, as the source above states (read the whole article if you have the time, it's very interesting!), Dixon created twelve illustrations for this novel.

And sure enough, this source from the Internet Archive and this source from @oldillustrations (hello!) both have eleven of the same illustrations - with the twelfth presumably being for the wrapper, as seen in this source (previously cited) from the Victorian Web.

Alright, so that's three separate sources, all with (effectively) the same set of elaborate illustrations from 1905. Neat!

...

...but if you start counting...

...you'll notice that this seems...

...like a lot more than twelve!

Basically, there are five illustrations by A. A. Dixon that are completely unaccounted for in any of the three sources previously cited.

For the purposes of this post, the cover wrapper is considered #0 and is not pictured in these banners.

In full-size set of illustrations in this post, this source from Google Books is the source of four of those mystery illustrations:

#3: "'He stared at her with a fearful look.'" #6: "'Drive him fast to his tomb.'" #7: "He said, 'Farewell!'" #12: "'She appeared with folded arms.'" #9 ("'Patriots and friends, we are ready!'") and #11 ("'You are consigned to La Force.'") are sourced from Google Books in the full-size versions in this post simply because the Internet Archive versions of those two illustrations had cropping issues.

To me, this is mystery enough on its own. Why would another version of the book suddenly have more than the originally-stated number of illustrations by this artist? Especially considering that the Google Books source does not have #13 ("''I know you, Evremonde!''") - why would it be missing one of the "main" set?

It gets even more interesting.

As you'll notice in the banner, we're still one off: Keen-eyed observers of the full-size set of illustrations might have already noticed that #14 ("'Carton and the spy returned.'") looks a bit different than the rest of them - a bit like what happened in the previous edition of this series!

That's because that Dixon illustration comes from this completely random source - a post from a blog called the Paperback Palette dating back to 2018 - that I happened across on Google Images of all places while sitting on an airplane trying to set up this post last week!

And to top it all off, that source is missing #6!

At this point, if your first instinct is, reasonably, that perhaps Dixon didn't actually illustrate these extra five and that it was someone imitating him for later editions, then know that that was my instinct too - until I (dare I say it again) checked those signatures!!!

(I edited the colors to prevent flashing.)

All five of those illustrations bear Dixon's signature, so it's safe to assume that they are A. A. Dixon originals - from 1905, even.

Interestingly, #s 1, 10, 13, 15, and 16 don't have signatures! Does this mean anything? Probably not - as an artist myself, I often forget to put my own signature - but still, I can't resist mentioning it!

So the most likely explanation here is simply that the publishing house originally commissioned A. A. Dixon for more than twelve illustrations and then held on to some of them, eventually choosing to publish them in other editions. Still, we can't say for sure.

And as to why some are missing from the more "complete" sets - human error, most likely!

If you scrub through the Google Books source, you'll notice that #s 11 and 12 actually repeat (one even changes color, which I have no explanation for) - it's most likely either that the book was accidentally printed with repeats of #s 11 and 12 where 13 and 14 were supposed to go or that the person scanning this edition made a similar error.

As an aside, it's so interesting that the illustrations are evenly spaced throughout the book - I had not noticed that until now!

And as for the Paperback Palette source, it's most likely that the blogger accidentally skipped over an image while combing through their edition or just glossed over it when posting the batch (I understand that from experience!) We can see this by adding up the letters in some of the illustrations' captions - doing so reveals that the letters are meant to go to P, the sixteenth letter of the alphabet.

Thus, one must be missing! Case closed!

Except... It's actually (going by both the chronology of the book and the order in which this set was found in Google Books) missing the wrong letter! Here, it seems that In the Google Books source, #7 in the full set is given the seventh letter in the alphabet, G - whereas in the Paperback Palette source, "#7" is labeled as the sixth, F:

This implies not only that #6 is absent from the Paperback Palette source but also that there is a missing mystery illustration located between this source's H and K - that is to say, before or after #9!

EXCEPT... For one, this isn't the only inconsistency I've noticed - there are several places where the letters seem shifted in a strange way. I've seen #2 listed as "C" and #9 listed both as "H" and "I2i" (???), just as two examples. (My theory is that the cover wrapper and the frontispiece may be at play here, but who knows?)

More importantly, though, it seems that, for some mysterious reason, all of the sources with relatively consistent use of these letters (i.e. all but the Victorian Web) - even the sources with only eleven interior illustrations - still give #15 in the full set the fifteenth letter, O. Which, of course, may make all of this pretty moot anyway.

Dare I say..."Oh."

Suffice it to say, just as much as major sources like the Internet Archive and Google Books are vital to this sort of research and preservation work, so are smaller websites and bloggers! After all, without the Victorian Web and the Paperback Palette, we as collective netizens likely wouldn't have ever known about the cover wrapper or illustration #14 (not to mention that the versions of the illustrations from the set posted by @oldillustrations have by far the best image quality and standardization that I've found! Please go check them out if you haven't yet!).

As for the reasons behind Collins' Clear-Type Press not publishing all of the illustrations from the beginning (if that's the explanation we're to go with here), I suppose the question I'd like to ask is:

why? why would you put us through this?

& the standard endnote for all posts in this series:

This post is intended to act as the start of a forum on the given illustrator, so if anyone has anything to add - requests to see certain drawings in higher definition (since Tumblr compresses images), corrections to factual errors, sources for better-quality versions of the illustrations, further reading, fun facts, any questions, or just general commentary - simply do so on this post, be it in a comment/tags or the replies!💫

[daz4i]

ok lemme give my thoughts abt the third aeon governing amphoreus

first of all i will get out of the way that. just bc black swan said there are 3, doesn't mean she's necessarily right, there could also be 4

both of these numbers seem likely to me, since the titans on amphoreus are divided into 4 groups of 3; if there is a connection between the two (which. given oronyx's direct connection to fuli. is more than likely) it could go like, these 3 aeons are their own fifth group, OR each of the 4 groups is governed by a different aeon (might get into that as a separate theory later perhaps)

i do wanna go over all the options and talk why they are or aren't likely. yes i mean all aeons (aside from nous and fuli ofc) buckle up this is a long one 🫡

starting with the ones black swan theorized:

hooh the equilibrium: i mean. ig they are technically everywhere aren't they. like they govern over the entire universe, in a way. so that's sort of a given.

one could argue they are connected to talanton? since both of them are about balance, the way oronyx is connected to fuli maybe? (tho ig that could imply nous being connected to janus if we wanna complete the fate titans trio. which is a bit weird)

mythus the enigmata: this one seems to be the most popular theory I've seen so far, and. while i sort of get it, i also don't think it's very likely...?

the main argument i see is that everything abt amphoreus is so weird and at times doesn't make any sense that surely something must be messing with this planet, as well as how the enigmata opposes nous so they might be doing this to mess with their calculations

the reason i think it's unlikely is more of a meta thing than actual lore - we simply didn't have enough build-up to already meet the aeon themselves or see their own work firsthand, imo. our only connection to them so far has been gallagher (+ simulated universe stuff, but that's true about every other aeon too), and even with him it was never really dug into properly, imo. meanwhile we've had A LOT of interactions with followers of both erudition and remembrance (as well as the effects of remembrance, like. light cones. memoria. etc)

ig it kind of makes sense for them to sneak up on us out of nowhere lmao but i do think this would be. too out of nowhere. from a storytelling pov (it also seems like their intentions are mostly good and are about free will for humans and such and i think we lowkey see the opposite of that with the flame chase journey 😭)

long the permanence: dragons 👍 castorice. now pollux too. yeah 👍

also immortality is very much a thing on amphoreus, not just with mydei's curse but tribbie too and we've just found out abt castorice being thousands of years old as well. i don't think cas goes through the whole egg process thingie bc she seems to retain all her memories from her past (like, the way we found out abt her being this old is when it was mentioned in the 3.2 stream how much she's learned throughout her life) while the vidyadhara don't. maybe we just have 2 different dragon species in the game now

ok with all these out of the way. lemme go by a list of all the other aeons, starting with the quickest to cover options and going up

akivili the trailblaze: canonically hasn't been there. also they're dead

oroboros the voracity: as hot as it might be. that seems to be even more out of nowhere than anyone else truly (you can mmmmaybe stretch things and say the dragons and dragon bones are actually leviathans but also why would you)

xipe the harmony: why would they. don't they have enough on their plate already (i can't even find a "one could argue-" statement here. there's just no connection lol. so that'd be bad writing imo. we've also seemed to close the saga with them already and became buddies n all, it'd be weird to bring them back again now)

lan the hunt + yaoshi the abundance: bundling them up bc they're a "no chance" imo for a similar reason, they're too entangled with a different faction in the story, and their themes don't really seem to fit here (like. yeah immorality and technically chasing the flames can count as hunting but this feels like a flimsy connection at best. again you can stretch it but why would you)

qlipoth the preservation: kind of the same reason. already associated with a different big faction in the story, as well as another planet we've been to. they seem to be quite straightforward so there's no reason for them to remain hidden

ig one could argue that maybe amphoreus is hidden bc they successfully managed to build a wall between worlds like they intended?? but. there are so many other explanations and not enough backup otherwise, so.

ix the nihility: if they were here we'd be dead 👍 you can maybe theorize a connection to the black tide or the river of souls...? but both of these affect people (and gods) differently from how we've seen ix does iirc, so.

aha the elation: my bestie. a lot in zagreus and their followers reminds me of them. and they always seem to know more than everyone else. hell, sparkle referenced amphoreus in the cosmodyssey event, so aha's followers definitely know about its existence, and that means aha probably does too

they ascended to aeonhood after climbing the imaginary tree, and i think this tree might at least be mentioned in this arc at some point, with anaxa's animations and cerces being a tree who creates stuft etc, as well as all the connections to hi3

however i don't think it's them. i think these^ are enough reasons that if it *was* them i'd be okay with it, but. i feel like we're not at the peak of our relationship with them yet. i think it'll come whenever we see what sampo's currently trying to save belobog from, maybe even after that, so. it's not impossible but i do think it's too early and not the right place

idrila the beauty: my other bestie. given how they mysteriously disappeared and can't be found, it's not that out of the question to perhaps assume they stumbled into a world others just can't find. not to mention, idrila is strongly connected to mirrors, and amphoreus can only be seen through mirrors too. there's also all the similarities to mnestia. i once again don't think it's likely but i can see myself feeling satisfied if it does end up being them (also the thing i said abt a lack of build-up with mythus is kind of the opposite here. we've seen so much of argenti in random places before coming to amphoreus that it could be leading to something. i don't think it is, but it would be cool if it was. also i miss my man 😔)

ena the order: four words. eye in the sky

the aquila imagery in the very first trailer dropped abt amphoreus looked so much like their eye that it was weird. there's a sense of inevitability to the whole flame chase journey that one could phrase it as them being puppeteered. given that sunday will likely join us at some point in this arc, he could be another connection to them and help figure out that they're even there at all as well as help get rid of them

that being said. like xipe, i think we kind of tied a nice bow on the story with them and there's no need to dig them back up again. anyway. since i mentioned inevitability-

terminus the finality: if amphoreus is indeed stuck in some time loop like many are theorizing, this could be a great opportunity to introduce finality and how it works in a more closed off environment than, yknow, the whole universe. the whole concept of prophecies being so important in amphoreus fits right in, too. i'm surprised i haven't seen this theory yet. maybe i'm just in the wrong circles idk

there's also all the recent stellaron hunters push in both tb's memories and external promotional material (+them even getting gameplay buffs soon) that i wouldn't be surprised if they end up coming here fr, somehow, and these are all hints to that. (like other options i don't think it's very likely, it also feels a bit too early, but i would still feel satisfied if it was them)

tayzzyronth the propagation: again a meta reason - we've had. so much information about them. they're practically always there in the underlying story told through of all the trailblaze continuance missions, only recently breached into the main one a little bit with fugue coming back thanks to ruan mei who researches them.

i don't know if it's quite time for them to take center stage, either - i think they'll be more of a final boss like nanook is setting up the be wayyyyy later in the future - but this could be another way to drip feed us more information to connect all these strings together.

also technically they're dead too, sorta. but! iirc black swan specifically says there are *paths* reigning over amphoreus, not necessarily the aeons themselves. for all we know the black tide spreading itself nonstop is another byproduct of propagation. or, since amphoreus may be a memory or reflection of events that already took place, if tayzzyronth was ever there when they were alive(/whole) we could just see memories of that.

finally, nanook the destruction: i'm gonna be so fr guys. i am extremely biased towards this take. it's been my theory since day 1, i'm almost certain it's gonna be them

first of all, golden blood - nanook and the titans and chrysos heirs all bleed gold. now, you can argue that in the titans + heirs' case it's a reference to actual greek mythology, but then why does nanook have it too? it's an odd choice. if they didn't plan this arc in advance (which i'm doubtful of. like. at least outlining it, as in knowing they'll reach a world inspired by ancient greece eventually) they could have just not made their blood any different, or find a different unique thing to put in there since it's not like they're adapting mythology 1 to 1 anyway. surely, this element appearing in both cases has to mean something

in addition to that, nanook, or at least the destruction, has been present in every planet we've been to - there's been a stellaron in each one, and i wouldn't be surprised if amphoreus has one as well (in the form of the black tide, which works very similarly to how the stellaron corrupts, even the enemies themselves taking very similar forms just in a different aesthetic). dan heng even points this out in the game's story itself at the start of 3.1

this following paragraph is gonna touch a little but on leaks so please skip the next one if you don't want to read those; currently there are rumors about constance becoming playable in... 3.8, iirc? she's one of uh. duke inferno's kids. sorta. i'm not quite 100% on how this whole thing works. but, she was also the only one of them who appeared in the story so far - talking to black swan right before her phone call with boothill. so she's clearly gonna become relevant soon, if these leaks are to be believed, and the destruction being involved in the current arc could set up her entrance, especially with her taunting black swan personally, who is obviously relevant to this arc as well, as she kickstarted it in the first place. she interacts with her through a memory, so this implies some remembrance stuff going on too perhaps, which is another connection to amphoreus. tldr: what if she shows up and becomes relevant this arc and. well. since she is a follower of the destruction, this implies another connection between amphoreus and nanook?

the only reason i can think for why it ISN'T nanook is that it genuinely feels too obvious 😭 but tbf so is the phainon flame reaver thing and it looks like that's gonna be confirmed soon too lmao.

so. now that i coverer all the paths. let me get into what i mentioned in the beginning, the whole 3/4 thing;

"why do you think there are actually 4 paths here" why not. much love to black swan but she doesn't know everything, given how she doesn't even know who the third aeon is, she could also just be oblivious to the presence of a fourth one

the reason i'm even bringing up this option at all is more for a fun thought concept than an actual concrete theory, like idk how much i believe that is the case, but i think it would align nicely if it is: a different aeon each governing a different group of the titans

if i had to guess, i'd say fuli is the one connected to the titans of fate (janus, talanton, oronyx), given their direct connection to oronyx (as well as mirrors serving as kind of doors in hsr's universe, that can connect them to janus too, but that's me stretching it :P)

nous is probably the one watching over the titans of creation (kephale, cerces, mnestia). i mean, kephale means "head" and nous is a giant head. reason and erudition are very closely connected, the grove literally having the whole nousporists thing, along with irl anaxagoras being the first person known to bring up the irl concept of nous, while hsr anaxagoras has cerces in him, so there's this connection there

then, if the third aeon is indeed nanook, then clearly they're related to the titans of calamity (nikador, thanatos, zagreus). i mean all of their domains can be considered destruction in their own way, especially so with nikador

but then, who's the one connected to the titans of foundation (georios, phagousa, aquila)? well... if i had to say, ena seems to be somewhat connected to aquila? with the whole eye imagery, as well as maintaining a status quo and not letting humans make decisions that supposedly aren't good for them

but it can just as well be many of the others, too 🤔 say, idrila, for example. the whole concept of beauty is that it's everywhere. these titans created everything physical about the world itself, and so created beauty itself. or fucking uh idk, oroboros?? since the leviathans existed before, like, everything, and so symbolically their being gave materials to create the world itself "they breath made the sky, their blood gave the sea, their flesh is the ground" type of concept lol. you can probably make shit up to fit with any of the aeons if you try hard enough (it does seem to be somewhat chronological tho, i'd say. like. the titans were created in a very clear order. and while it's a bit more vague with the aeons, we do know that fuli was created before nous who was created before nanook, so i'd guess the options here could be the aeons who ascended between fuli and nous. good luck figuring that one out i am simply too tired to touch hsr's timeline 😩)

but then again, it could be that there really are just 3 paths, and they're not connected to different groups of titans, or they can also just cover these groups and not the fourth one, etc. who knows!

that's all i have for you now!!! as we get more information i might update this post via edits or reblogs ✨️ if you think there's relevant information i missed or a different angle to look at here, feel free - in fact, please do - to leave it in a reblog/reply!!! thank you for reading 😌✨️ hope you have a lovely day

[gingergari]

happy tdov! got another spidersona for ya! :]

'parker' is in between names right now but that doesn't stop him from being the spiderman of his dimension!

their dimension is fairly desaturated so the appearance of our favorite red and blue hero is a disturbance in more ways than one

gwen stacy becomes his 'guy in the chair' after she figures out that he's spiderman :]

[fractallogic]

I don’t want to be a complete dick, but I’m beginning to wonder if my dear husband has come to the basic realization that “smaller stuff fits in bigger stuff”, like with the nesting mixing bowls we have, or like, the cake tins that fit together with the pie pans

Like do I need to get him stacking rings for infants so he can practice or???

God bless him for being on top of putting the dishes away pretty consistently now but every time I open the cabinets there are new organizational horrors for me to behold

(This is also how he packs, both in luggage for trips and in boxes for moving. Basically “IF I JUST FUCKIN JAM IT IN THERE HARD ENOUGH IT’LL FIT” and way too often I have to say no babe that’s how you BREAK SHIT (true story))

[timothylawrence]

I do mean this genuinely so please don't take it as snarky, do you ever worry that being negative towards something for a prolonged period skews your perception of it?

i mean yeah, i feel like if ur constantly negative abt something you'll never really see anything good out of it and at that point you need to sever ties with whatever it is for ur own mental health. i've been in previous fandoms where things were just sucky and the games sucked and it just... i wasnt getting as much joy out of it so yeah, i jumped ship and found things that made me happy :)

if this is abt my bg3 opinions, 90% of the things i post are abt racism so like.... yeah if a game is racist im gonna have negative perception abt it ? even without making posts abt it? like the game is inherently negative because it's racist my commentary doesn't really change that moreso does it address it .

[campingwithmonsters]

🕸️But If You Spin The Web, You Get To See Both Sides🕸️

another version under the cut

[volfoss]

the worst part of doing this analysis is i have all the scripts in front of me. but as a guy who doesnt normally look for scripts, i was kind of struggling to find things outside of the unaired pilot so poked around some threads and. inexplicably theyre all on genius.com. its a nightmare world for ME

[babsbabbles]

guys Im beginning to think maybe. most people dont actually compile vast amounts of data. as a hobby