#Before the Well :: Survivor-verse

[condxmnxd]

@prvtocol / Brianne Landry picked up the phone: "You've put it behind you, but it's not the same as putting it to rest."

The young woman looks up to the other, lightly brushing a strand of soft, black hair out of her face to make eye contact. Her voice is hushed, barely above a whisper as she sits down next to Brianne, "I know that all to well, sadly."

Sadako raises her finger to point to a box television just past the tree-line, the aura around it akin to the static of an old film, a coil whine emitting from it's white screen. "There are parts of ourselves that haunt us wherever we go..."

The clairvoyant lowers her arm as she trails off, her head bowing somberly as her gaze shifts to the ground in front of them. Her other half, a physical manifestation, having tormented her before and now inside of the fog, made itself a killer, a mockery of who she is. Tilting her head to talk to the other, her tone remains as she laments over the husk that calls itself by her name.

"Though I tried to put the past behind me, it still looks back at me, the haunting image of my face upon it's own."

[pohlepen]

knight of ren ♡

tldr for frankie’s knight of ren lore; born on an outer rim planet. an orphan at 8 due to. to her knowledge, her father was never in the picture and presumed dead, from some mid rim planet that was nestled close enough to a trade route to be relevant but far enough away that it wasn’t as busy. once her mother died of some horrible accident with fire, frankie worked on her grandparent’s farm as a hand. they probably had a small manufacturing plant or something. bought junk, turned it into durasteel or the like. very primitive. frankie spent lots of time sneaking off and getting in trouble and that's how the knights of ren found her. she proves herself worthy of joining by killing her grandparents and that serves as her qualification into the knights. she is a prior member when kylo takes over, just barely, and she sticks with him because she believes in his skills. this verse is super adaptable to whoever writes kylo or another knight!

[ivymarquis]

Say You Won't Let Go

Last House on the Right

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 1.1k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Post Apocalypse!AU, Single Mom!verse, pregnant reader, mentions of pregnancy related eating issues + vomiting, Reader's got some separation issues. Fair warning this is so half baked I haven't even decided what kind of apocalypse it is, but somehow Ive got a whole plotline regardless.Same pairing as my fic Blind Date

Next Chapter

You can’t believe your luck. 

You’re not sure what exactly it was about this house in the dead of night that had you so transfixed, but your intuition has paid off in spades. 

The area’s been abandoned, to your knowledge leaving you the sole inhabitant meandering around. 

Or maybe waddling would be a more apt description.

Fear and uncertainty of the outside hurry you along into the house. Most everyone- the survivors- has splintered off into groups. There’s no evidence of anyone still living here (admittedly it’s not like you’ve taken the time to check every room, but there are signs when a house is inhabited), but you luck out that the cabinets haven’t been picked over. 

It’s been entirely too long since your last meal, and it takes a good amount of restraint to not devour the can of ravioli too quickly. 

As much as you’re tempted, you know there’s a fine line between what will and won’t have you immediately throwing up in the sink- grazing seems to keep the worst of the upset down.

There’s no hospitals to jaunt off to if you end up dehydrated. Excessive vomiting is not ideal post end of days.

If you were in your right mind- not frightened, isolated, starving, cold- and not focusing on how the unheated chef boyardee might as well be a five star michelin meal for all you can think right now, you might have been paying more attention.

The sound of a safety clicking off behind you freezes your blood far more than the cold. That sound is deliberate. Whoever’s behind you- gun pointed at you- wants you to know they got the jump on you.

“Hands where I can see them,” the order is gruffly barked at you.

You feel stupid. Of course all of this was too convenient for you to simply be catching a break. It wasn’t exactly well lit and designed to draw you in- but you’re an animal caught in a trap regardless.

The fork clatters against the counter next to the can as you go to comply.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

You’re not much of a threat in your current condition. That much is obvious.

Time stopped having any sort of tangible meaning a while ago. You should know how many weeks you are, but the days run together fending for yourself and you just know that you’re close. There’s no hiding the swell of your belly.

The man at the doorway looks as gruff as he sounds. Your mind spins like a tire in mud to process everything in front of you in the poor moonlight. Military, that much is obvious. You’re not actually sure if that’s a good thing. Handsome from what you can see, though historically your type has been men who don’t have a weapon leveled at you.

The taciturn expression on his face falters when he spots your bump, but you’ve learned by now to not expect any sort of special treatment.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize immediately. “I-I didn’t know anyone was here. I’ll leave, I swear.” 

He looks at you another moment before a look of resignation washes over him.

“Turn back around. Keep your hands up.” Oh God. Your mind immediately goes to the worst- That this man, for whatever reason, has decided that your infraction has signed your death warrant. That he can’t quite bring himself to fire on a pregnant woman staring him in the eyes, so the last thing you’re ever going to see is some tacky wallpaper and ugly cabinets.

You yelp when one of his hands finds the pistol on your hip. Holy shit you didn’t even hear him cross the room.

“Easy, love,” he soothes as he starts to frisk you for more weapons. “Not gonna hurt you. You have anything else on you?”

“A knife in my back pocket.” It doesn’t even occur to you to lie; putting yourself in his good graces is your only option and you can’t do that by lying.

His hands slip under your jacket, the hem oversized and hanging even with your arms up, making a wrong guess at the first pocket he checks before grabbing the knife out of the second one.

“Anyone going to come sniffing around looking for you?” A fair question, but one that sticks like a knife between your ribs.

The “No,” that escapes you is softer than you meant it to be, voice warbling as you try not to cry.

Hormones would have had you on the verge of tears at any given point, and that would have been before the end of the world and before your group abandoned you. You’re well entitled to your tears, you think, but try to stuff them back down anyway.

“You’re out here alone,” he grouses, sounding like he doesn’t believe you. The like this? is implied.

Your arms are still up, and they’re getting tired. Everything tires you out these days.

Like he can read your mind, he releases you with a “you can set your arms down now, love.”

“Thank you,” you’re in full fawn mode, turning to face him. While he’s clearly decided against killing you, you’ve been scared and alone for the past few days and you really don’t want to be separated from the only person who will give you the time of day right now. 

“Is there anyone else here? Other soldiers?” Your fate is sealed and lies in the soldier’s hands regardless of his answer.

Nothing with change, no matter what he says, but you think you’re less intimidated if it’s just the two of you. 

The world’s gone to hell in a handbasket, and yet you’ll never forget watching 28 days later when the line I promised them women was dropped.

“Got separated from my team.”

He turns away from you, gesturing to follow him out of the kitchen and towards the living room.

He’s limping.

You haven’t seen him move until now. You’re more an expert on busted hardware than busted body parts, you can’t tell if it’s a fresh injury that’s still healing, or an old one that’s set in place.

“They left you.” They left me, too.

“They didn’t leave me for dead, they think I am dead. Gonna take a bit more than that to get the job done, though.” 

You have no reason not to believe him. Despite having just met him, the man is like a living manifestation of everything masculinity is supposed to be- down to the surly attitude despite him herding you further into the house. It doesn’t take much to figure out that he’s tough as nails and sure why not flirt in death’s face that her last attempt wasn’t good enough?

You sit on the couch he points to, as he settles into the leather chair across from you.

“Christ what’d I’d do for a fucking smoke right now,” he mumbles, pawing at his chest absent mindedly on reflex.

You mean to sit stiff as a board, but your body is tired and the couch is surprisingly comfortable.

The soldier, however, sits like he owns the house. “And now for the question of what to do with you.”

[mocha-moch4]

I wanna feel you from the inside-

Song: Closer - Nine Inch Nails

Summary: Using his weakness against him to snag a cheap rescue was playing dirty, but unfortunately for you, Norton is well versed when it came to playing like that..

Warnings: Fools gold gets his own warning. Implied Monster fucking, afab reader, pet names (doll/dollface/slut/ect) Nortons mean guys 😔 He hurts ur boob, the smut is cut off though

You knew what you were getting into. But, at the same time, it was a bit of ganji’s fault as well.

Getting downed at five ciphers was quite embarrassing, and most people wouldn’t even bother with the rescue.. But… then again, you know the feeling all too well. You were relatively close with the batter after all. That being said, you were in no hurry to complete said rescue. After completing your cipher you hurried over to the outside of the dreary hospital where Ganji was currently chaired. It was already above half, so if he were to get chaired once more, he’d be dead, but at least the rescue would give ganji a chance to redeem himself after that unfortunately short kite.

You carefully snuck around the limited structures to block the line of sight of Norton, who was camping the chair. You know Norton would prefer to not swing at all rather than risk accidentally hitting you in the process. As cruel as he may act, he does care for you. He is just a greedier version of his survivor counterpart, whom would give him an aggravatingly long earful if he downed you. Knowing all of this, you still decide to use it against him in situations like this.

And oh, how he loathes you for that.

Quickly, and a bit recklessly, you dashed up to the chair, trying to catch Norton off guard. It worked well enough to successfully get Ganji off the chair, but it you lost all your courage with it. You didn’t have it in you to body block, so you simply planned on going back to decoding duty while Ganji attempted to kite once more.

Well, that’s how you thought it would play out. When you booked it away from the chair you scrambled into the hospital and up the stairs, making your way to the untouched cipher on the second floor, being extra mindful of the gapes in the floor. It wasn’t til you were starting the cipher you heard Ganji call out that the hunter had changed targets. Before you could even register anything, you started hearing your heartbeat in your head, then the next thing you know you’re entrapped between two giant arms attached to an aggravated looking Norton. You shivered at the sudden pressure of the cold wall you’re now pushed up against. A small moan threatened to release from the mere contact with him.

You wanted to come up with some kind of excuse or reason that would soften the blow of the punishment that was soon to be delivered so graciously to you, but the damned hunter hasn’t given you a second to think so far, so why would he now? You bit your lip as his cold, rock constructed hands, traveled up your shirt, sending shivers through your entire body. One of which trailed far up to grip your neck. Not hard enough to hurt you just yet, but enough to make it a bit red.

“What’s wrong, doll face?” His voice was horse and filled with mockery. He felt no pity at your shook up face. “You weren’t this scared when you came up to the chair, huh?” He asked, hot breath tickling your nose. Fearing that you’d only make the situation worse, you decided to stay quiet for now as to save the little words you had before your brain inevitably turns to mush.

“That wasn’t rhetorical, brat.” he spat before roughly tugging at the top of your shirt, ripping the fabric so he could roughly squeeze a handful of your breast. The rock his hands were made out of pierced the plush skin, drawing up blood from the pressure. A mewl escaped your lips, rolling off your tongue as your skin stung from the rocks that threatened to tear through it.

“Please..” the whimper snuck out of your mouth, pleading for him to not only be gentler, but also to spare the cruelties you knew were upon the dark horizon. Norton was a smart man, almost annoyingly so. He knew exactly what you wanted by the glimmer in your eye. That was too fucking bad.

“If you’re gonna wanna come close to enjoying this, you’re gonna have to work for it, slut.” he growled, his guttural voice dropping, just like how his belt did. The sound of the ramshackle zipper echoing through the grey hospital halls. Only thing left to do was pray..

[ashwhowrites]

Hi my love!! Hope you’re well 😊 I’ve never sent a request before so I hope this is intelligible.

So Older!Eddie and reader have a relationship she’s hiding from her strict religious parents because Eddie is of course a Metalhead and his appearance and such, whereas she’s younger (about 21) and has always been brought up surrounded by bible verses, hymns and the belief that anything impure will send her to Hell. However, when she begins her relationship with Eddie, she begins to break away from her parents beliefs and has all her firsts with Eddie.

They have this beautiful relationship where he’s completely enamoured and soft with her, all patient and understanding because he knows she’s new to it all. And one day, her mother sees her car parked outside of Eddie’s trailer (I imagine him to live in his own, still in the trailer park) when driving past and confronts reader when she’s home. It’s all angsty, telling her she’ll never get to have kids with him, he’ll never stick around and she won’t want to spend the rest of her life trailing along behind him as he grows old, not living her life or making anything of herself because of it. Her parents do nothing but ignore her presence around the house, even going as far to take down the pictures of her from the walls

Her mom’s words stay on her mind and she pulls away from Eddie, leaving him terrified of what’s happened and if she’s leaving him. She goes there a couple days after, repeating it all to Eddie and trying to convince herself that her mother was right in the process. She doesn’t budge when Eddie tries convincing her whilst crying from her harsh words to him. So it’s a big emotional argument with Eddie grasping her arm as she tries to leave, crying as he kisses her skin all over, murmuring about how much he loves her.

As she goes to leave his trailer for the last time once he’s stopped begging her not to, they stare at each other tearfully before she begins sobbing, running into his arms and she explains everything and ends up leaving her parents and moving in with Eddie. Happy Ending???

Sorry this was so long 😅

Fair warning- I did not grow up religious, and it was never taught to me, so my description of it might be totally off. And I hope that does not offend anyone

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

To believe in him

Y/N lived in a structured home, with structured parents. She was taught to pray before she rests her head, pray before every meal, and be a girl God would have been proud of. She lived in a cloud, her eyes and ears shut off how the world truly was. Her parents had her in a bubble where perfection was the standard and she better not be a dash less.

She didn't know any better, raised in her parents' ways that she never knew there was so much more to the world. Then she met Eddie, tall dark, and handsome. He was mysterious, alternative, had long hair, and listened to the devil's music. He used absurd language and had the mind of a sinner. But Y/N swore whenever she saw him, she saw what a true angel looked like.

His smile beamed and he had this glow. Warm brown eyes that made her feel lost, and arms that grounded her. She didn't know what love would feel like, but she knew that this was it.

He was older, had seen the world, and made it back. He was a survivor who got his hands dirty in the soil. He lived alone and made his own money to feed and shelter himself. Everything a man was supposed to be in the books she grew up reading. But she knew he could never go home to her parents. One look at him and they'd shun him down to hell. That was the sad part about her parent's religion, it masked their eyes to people who weren't afraid to live freely in the world.

Once their relationship took off, she came clean about everything. About the religion, her parents, and that she was new to everything. Eddie was slow, and patient, and held her hand through everything. He showed her the ropes of being in a relationship. Teaching her that she didn't have to be sorry for not doing everything perfectly on the first try. He allowed her to fail, to try again, and to feel pride in herself.

He showed her the world. She listened to music her parents would hate. She watched inappropriate movies. She wore new clothes and pieces that made her feel sexy. She kissed and kissed. She went further, having sex with a man without a ring on her finger.

"Are you sure?" Eddie whispered, his naked body on top of hers as his long hair dangled around her face. His eyes stayed on hers, his left hand on her hip, and right on her face.

"Yes"

She whined in pain as he slowly slid in, pressing kisses all over her face as he rubbed her hip with his thumb. Sweet words fell from his lips as her body welcomed him in.

He talked her through the pain, the anxiety washing away as she looked into the eyes of the only man she had ever loved. The pain turned to bliss as he moved inside of her. His lips and hands were on her skin, and the warm feeling of him was inside of her. She cried out as she felt things she had never felt before, clawing at Eddie's skin.

And she didn't regret any of it.

Eddie loved her more than anything in the world. He understood her fear of the world around her and breaking away from everything she had learned. He didn't ruin her or make her damaged goods. He didn't believe in the same beliefs as her, but he would always respect it.

After a year of being together, he was amazed at her growth. He knew she couldn't bring him home and he was okay with that. He had a trailer all to himself and he loved adding her in. He loved her things in his shower and room. Her favorite snacks are in his pantry and drinks are in his fridge.

He wanted the next step. He wanted her home to be his home.

~~~

"Smells amazing in here," Y/N said softly, wrapping her arms around Eddie's waist as he stood by the stove. The smell of chicken filled his small home, and she could feel her stomach growling.

"I think," he started, turning around so he could face her. He pushed her hair away from her neck, leaning down as his nose tickled her skin. "You smell amazing."

She shivered as his lips kissed her neck, and his strong hands held her hips. He pulled back and captured her lips in a kiss. His warm lips pressed against hers as she felt her body float. Every kiss made her head spin in the clouds.

She pulled away with a blush and a smile

"I love you" he whispered

"I love you too"

They had a romantic dinner and then she was heading home. A smile on her face as she walked through the front door. Her body buzzed as she felt the ghost of his hands on her.

She smiled at her mother, preparing to walk past her but her mother stopped her.

"I prayed you would be smart enough to not disappoint God, but I seem to be wrong."

Y/N gulped as she looked into her mother's angry eyes. Her stomach turned in miserable ways.

"What do you mean?" She asked nervously

"You cannot be with that...that devil of a man!" Her mother seethed, standing up as her chair scraped against the floor.

"He's not the devil, Mom." She said quietly, "he's a good guy"

"Oh my, he has already brainwashed you!" Her mother argued

"Brainwashed me? How?" Y/N asked, feeling anger rushing through her bones

"He has taken advantage of your young age! He is a grown man and doing what knows what with a naive and stupid young girl. That man is heading to hell and I will not let you go there with him. You hear me, young lady?" Her mother got closer as her words got louder

Y/N felt backed against a wall, tears in her eyes

"I'm not stupid! I love him and he loves me. There is nothing wrong with that. He did not take advantage of me and I have a full say in our relationship. I do the things I want to do and he never forces anything. I'm not shunned to hell simply because I am in love." Y/N argued, standing up for herself and Eddie. Something she would have never done if Eddie didn't teach her.

"A relationship? Do you think your little fun is a relationship? You are far more stupid than I thought. You cannot marry a man who is over ten years older than you. You cannot stop living your life, in your prime years, simply because he is growing old. Do you realize that? Do you want kids? Not going to happen when the father is in his forties. He isn't going to be tied down to that. Your life will be put on hold, and you will never make something of yourself." Her mother spoke the words right in her face.

And Y/N hated the way the words affected her body

"You will not be my daughter for as long as you walk hand in hand with the devil."

The last words her mother ever said to her.

~

Y/N truly believed it would get better as each day passed, but it didn't. Her parents ignored her around the house. Never turning their eyes her way, never speaking towards her. They never talked about her and went as far as to take her pictures off the walls. It was like she was a ghost and watching her family live without her.

She tried to ignore it. Live her life like nothing changed. She didn't say anything to Eddie because she believed she could handle it. But she couldn't. Whenever she saw him, her mother's words haunted her brain.

So she began to pull away, staying locked in her room as she felt unworthy of being anywhere else. Was she a bad person? Would God shame her for the decisions she made? Would she ever be forgiven? Did she want to be forgiven?

~~~

A week passed after she pulled away from Eddie and he panicked. He had no idea what happened and what changed. All he knew was that he hated it more than anything. He wanted her back and to love each other as easily as it always was.

Y/N felt like Eddie deserved a goodbye, and she could at least give him that.

She left her house, without a word. Her heart was heavy as she knocked on his door.

She tucked herself in her arms when he opened the door. She held back the gasp when she took in his state. His hair was wild and messy, eyes so red and puffy. His cheeks were raw and his lips bruised, probably from biting them so hard.

"Baby" he breathed out in relief, his arms went to wrap around her but she stepped back.

Eddie bit his lip as he also stepped back. A new rush of tears was already falling down his face. She looked tired and sad, and he hated it.

"What happened?" He asked, letting her walk inside as he closed the door.

"I think we need to break up, Eddie." She said. Eddie felt his heart stop as the words left her lips.

"What? Why?"

"It's just...in the long run, this relationship isn't going to work. I want a marriage and I want kids. We can't have that. You are only getting older and I'm still so young. There's so much of the world I need to see."

"Who says we can't do that all together? I'll marry you, I'll have all the kids you want. I'll fly you anywhere you want to go. Age has never been an issue, and it doesn't have to be. We can stay together and I'll give you everything you want." Eddie fought, his hands reaching out to clench over hers.

She hiccupped as she tried to keep her sobs hidden. But he stood with his tears flying freely and his heart on his sleeve.

"You don't want that Eddie! You've left this town and always came right back. You aren't going to leave for some random girl" she snapped

Eddie wasn't sure what happened but he knew it was something he needed to fix. He hated that she seemed so mad and already made up her mind.

"You aren't a random girl! I'm in love with you. Maybe I always came back to this town because you were here." He cried, moving his hands up to her shoulders as he gripped onto her for life.

"That's bullshit, Eddie. This wasn't an act of faith from the universe. You wanted fun with someone young, and naive enough to believe it could have been love." Her eyes were hard as she glared at him. Almost like she blamed him for the relationship ever starting.

"Stop it! This is love! It's always been love. You can't say this shit and act like it's common knowledge. I'd do anything for you. Just please, let us fix this." He begged. No shame as he showed just how vulnerable he was.

"EDDIE STOP! THIS ISN'T LOVE," she screamed as she pushed him away.

"YES IT IS!" he screamed back but allowed her to push him away.

"IT'S NOT! WE CAN'T HAVE KIDS! I NEED TO MAKE SOMETHING OF MYSELF BEFORE I START A FAMILY. We can't wait for that, Eddie. We can't have kids when you are fifty, I'll be stuck raising them alone I don't wanna just be someone's wife! I offer more to the world" she argued

"What can I say to change your mind?" He whispered, "What can I say to make you believe me? I don't care what age I am when we have kids. And you'd never be alone!" His hands held her face as she sniffled. "I've been here and I always will be. Right next to you through everything. You are more than just a wife, and I will watch you conquer the world but please let me be there with you."

"I'm sorry, but you can't" she sobbed, softly taking his hands off her face. "This is the end, Eddie." She ran past him, throwing open the door as she ran out. Running from him and running from all the pain she caused.

But Eddie wasn't one to give up. He ran after her. He grabbed her arm and twisted her right into his body. The impact of her body smashing into his caused the breath to leave her lungs.

"I love you. I love everything about you" he cried. His lips were wet from tears as he pressed kisses to her skin. He kissed up her arms, neck, and face. Kissing everything as he mumbled all the love he had for her. "No one will ever love you the way I do. Believe me. Trust me and stay with me."

She sobbed as his words hit her skin. She bit her lip as she tried to pull away. Crying harder as his grip got tighter.

"Eddie, let me go"

"No" he cried

"Eddie, you need to let me go"

"Baby, I can't do that"

"EDDIE, LET ME GO!" she sobbed

"You really want to end this?" He asked

She didn't say a word but nodded. She felt a whimper leave her throat when he let her go. Distance between them and it killed her to know there would be so much more once she got in her car and drove away.

"I won't stop you. But, what's your plan? Leave me and move on? Find someone your age to fall in love with? Like everything we've done together is gonna just be a memory? Am I just going to be a memory?" His voice cracked as more tears fell. But he stood still, allowing her to leave.

"I...I don't know"

"You are okay with ending this for an I don't know? I know that I will never move on and I will never fall in love with anyone else. Can you?" He asked, holding his breath as he waited for her to answer.

"No," she said without a beat. She knew once she left, all she would do was think about him. Wish that every man she'd ever meet was him.

They stared at each other in silence. Tears down their faces as they soaked in each other for one last time.

He refused to move first, he refused to walk away. But she felt frozen in the dirt. Visions of her future life and she saw him in every part. If she left, all it would do would please her parents. It would leave her heartbroken and filled with regret. It was clear this man loved her. The way he was fighting for her was a sign that she was right where she was supposed to be.

Neither were sure of how long they stood there. Seconds, minutes, or even hours. Time didn't seem to exist.

Y/N felt a huge sob coming up her throat, the sob was loud as she choked on her own tears. And she ran again, but this time straight into his arms. He sobbed into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm so sorry. My mom got in my head but I love you so much. I can't leave you. I want you. I want us." She sobbed, her words coming out broken but Eddie understood. He held her tighter as he cradled her head into his chest. "They hate me. I don't even have a home anymore. But I'll never be happy if I leave you."

"Home is right here. Right here with me." He said into her hair, kissing her head as he embraced the feeling of her in his arms.

He was right. Home was never that house. Home was everything she felt while being in his arms.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunsonmain @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlx @ineedmentalhelp123

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Reverse-verse.

Content warning at the end for suicidal ideation. Nothing graphic.

Jason leaned against the wall where Babs was typing training notes and jerked his head to where you were talking to Bruce. Evidence notes in hand. "So the Emo doesn't have to train why?"

"Physiology," she answered, not looking up. "When they messed with the structures in her brain they messed with well... everything." "Which translates to no cardio how?" he scoffed, wiping sweat off his forehead.

"If she trained like the rest of you she'd have to eat like a Speedster and take enough vitamins to fuck her organs," she said. "If that's not clear enough- They made her pretty powerful sure but also pretty fragile."

"So much for a super soldier-"

"She's slightly stronger and slightly faster than a normal person but only in short bursts. And she lives in constant hell. So. You know. I don't begrudge her not having to run." She gave him a meaningful look, eyes narrowing.

"It can't be that bad."

Barbara shrugged, "If you're man enough, have her show you. If you're not- or she won't- Ask Bruce how he found her. Then see if you say that." And before he could sulk anymore, she stowed her laptop in it's compartment and left. He had every right to be pissed. At Bruce. At the Joker. At every injustice in the world. But- you hadn't had anything to do with it and she was tired of hearing about it.

_________________

"Jason," Bruce said glancing up, "you can't have-"

"It's not about guns," he snorted. "I'm not carrying the stupid crowbar. A tire Iron is more fun. I wanna know about Y/N."

"Why?" Bruce asked, eyes narrowing.

"Well, she's one of my replacements so-"

"No one replaced you, first of all. And second of all-"

"Where'd you find her?" he asked, cutting to the chase. He hadn't asked you. It felt weird. Mostly because you would barely look at him. And you only ever spoke to him when you needed to in order to be polite.

Bruce sat back in his chair with a sigh and scrubbed his hand through his hair. "If you use this to-"

"I just wanna know!" he protested. "Everyone treats her like a pet!"

"We," Bruce started after a long moment, "found her in the bottom of a cage. Almost dead. Mostly naked and filthy. Treated worse than an animal. If she hadn't whimpered, Dick would have thought she was dead." Bruce paused for a second; swallowing down the sick feeling he'd thought was the gore and the scent of blood in the air.

"Scientists were looking for kids like her. Kids with heightened abilities they could exploit," he explained. "She was the last survivor, somehow."

Jason wasn't looking at him. If not for how still he was, and how tense, Bruce would have thought he wasn't listening. But now, his sense of injustice was rankled. And he was listening. "Long story short," he continued, not wanting to dwell on it, "they wanted a soldier. They tried to desensitize her to violence and well. It didn't go like they planned."

"How?" he asked, looking up slowly.

"They forced her to kill people," Bruce said wincing.

"But when you found her-"

"She was trying to kill herself," Bruce said sadly. "She lost control and made a building of scientists and guards- about 20 people kill themselves."

[braunbakery]

I’m sorry if this is rude but would you ever write a sequel to little sparrow? Like what happens between jean and reader and Mikasa after reader confesses to him?

poison oak

☞ jean kirstein x fem reader

☞ sequel to little sparrow, word count: 3k

☞ sfw, angst angst angst, canon-verse [post aot finale.]

☞ plot: there comes a point where whatever false comfort you and jean are afforded by pretending what you said on the boat never happened hurts more than you can bear.

☞ inspired by poison oak - bright eyes

☞ poison oak

the nightmares will never truly leave.

this is something that you all know full well. know to your deepest cores as the paradis demons, the paradis survivors, the paradis warriors. heroes. it needs not to be talked about, to be acknowledged or discussed.

and yet, they seem almost worse now that you awaken to safety. now that you can awaken to the knowledge of a war victoriously won and finally over. it seems even near the calm flickering and warmth of a fire at your bedside, or the crickets chirping outside a window, your mind cannot forget. it seems easier to have a nightmare when you were living in one.

jean knows this all too well, as he remains between sleep and consciousness tossing and turning until his bedsheets are all but crumbled into a bundle on his mattress. this is the routine – one he knows that he and his friends often undergo – especially in the nights following the end of the final battle for peace.

sometimes he is a young boy again – fifteen and watching his friends be devoured by beasts beyond comprehension. sometimes he is older and wiser, but still inhabited by that same fear and dread that has followed him from his most innocent and tarnished youth just to face enemies that look just like him. sometimes there are guns and sometimes blades. sometimes he is surrounded by comrades and sometimes he is isolated and staring up at the wall that dictated his very existence until countless died to be rid of it.

and sometimes – not often, not nearly as often as he would like – his nightmares are interrupted by an ocean breeze and your blurry silhouette in front of him. back at that boat before the final stretch. you’re speaking – he can hear your voice and make out your figure moving – yet he can’t make out the words.

he doesn’t need to. he knows this scene well enough since the day it happened.

his mouth moves of its own volition and he can barely even see from this cursed blur cast onto his vision – but he knows he is clasping your shoulder and he knows what words will come next out of his mouth.

“i need to go.”

and then he is awake.

*~*

it’s easy to get wrapped up in whatever comes after the war.

months go by and you’re signing treaties and mourning and meeting officials and reinstating civilisations alongside your comrades – but it’s barely ever that you all get to be friends. no, these moments are few and in between yet when they come it is like an air of gratefulness settles into the room until once more you are all interrupted by whatever duties are bestowed upon you next.

you are somewhat thankful for this business – obviously not for the horrors of that final battle or the things witnessed and lives lost – but for this sudden political leadership you and your comrades now share. you do not have time to think of jean and your confession. sometimes thoughts of it do slip in, it is hard not to when you have to see him so often those first few months, but now it has been a year and you have all gone on to follow your respective lives.

that constant underlying ache for him has turned into an occasional sting. you love jean. you do. it is a fact written into the crevices of your soul since your youth – but you owe it to yourself to live. to torture yourself no more with thoughts of him.

(“how have you been?” he says to you in the corner of the meeting room you are all situated in. you’re both currently stood at the small make-shift coffee and tea station set up for you all and pouring yourself a cup.

“oh!” you had not realised jean had sidled up beside you, “good! um…i’m alright.”

jean’s eyes flit between both of yours and suddenly you’re filled with the same embarrassment you used to feel when you would get tangled up in your ODM gear when you were younger and jean would double over laughing at you. he brings up a hand to the back of his neck.

you both have not spoken of that day on the boat and you certainly do not plan to bring it up.

“good…” jean eventually replies, “that’s good.”

“sorry,” you blurt out, “how’re you?” jean is grinning at your perceived impoliteness.

“tired,” he candidly blurts out and now it’s your turn to beam at him.

“i think we all are,” you say, and jean nods at you until suddenly his hand is coming up towards you. closer and closer and you’re frozen to the spot, you don’t even notice that you’ve stopped breathing. all you can think of is his hand’s nearing proximity to your face until suddenly it stops right at your eye.

he lightly brushes his thumb under your eye – the sure sign of your sleepless nights. you’re looking up at him lost for words as he mindlessly stares at the slight darkness painting your undereye.

when he locks eyes with you, it’s like he has suddenly realised himself and with an all too quick motion jerks his hand away from your face and stares at the ground.

“yeah, i’d say that’s right,” he sheepishly mumbles.

you hand him the teapot and both stand in silence until you’re called back to the meeting table.

and then like a well-trained dog, whenever you catch him look at mikasa (whether sparingly, whether a glance or his utmost focus as she speaks), you stare down at your clasped hands in an attempt to no longer involve yourself in whatever wreckage jean kirstein unconsciously makes of your heart.)

sometimes he writes to you.

a meeting of the so-called ‘heroes’ has become infrequent and only once every few months. you’ve all settled in different places some far and some close. sometimes you meet without the guise of peace and restoration, and sometimes that very guise is what’s needed for you all to see each other again.

so, you resort to writing. it’s you that starts it.

you write to everyone. you want to know of their plans, of their news homes, new lives, new directions. armin writes back the most – always lengthy responses and curiosity practically emanating off the parchment paper. in the times you have all met between these letters everyone has expressed their dismay for having to sit and write (‘as much as we’ve gone through together, you know i’m not writing,’ connie quips), yet at least once a month you receive something.

this is excluding jean, who week after week has something to say back to you.

he writes of new friends, new hobbies, new places, new desire for exploration. he writes and he writes and he writes, answering every question you have and asking his own. and it’s hard not to get too wrapped in it – you are childhood friends, you are soldiers in arms. and you have only just been able to resolve the heartache from the boat into a rough reminder that only comes and goes.

so with every letter (every poorly-scrawled joke and sudden idea and ‘yours truly’) you swallow your beaming smile and read as if this were anyone of the others writing to you.

*~*

eventually you do all meet, months later, at a bar.

it’s rounds of beers and dastardly jokes and everyone chortling at connie and jean rough-housing each other like they were teenagers once more. it’s reiner being forced to chug pints with a red face as connie insist he loosen up and ‘you’re the biggest here, you need to catch up.’

jean meets your eyes as everyone cheers and all you can think is that you are so happy to see him so at ease. to no longer see him as that haunted boy on the boat. your eyes meet jeans and all he can think is that he is so happy to see you here with everyone (which includes him. here with him.)

a lull of silence falls over the table eventually and you look up at jean to find him already staring at you. you offer him a small smile, overcome by the smooth buzz of alcohol and the warmth of the bar, and he reciprocates yet neither one of you looks away.

in the depths of your mind, you can feel whatever thoughts of him you have supressed over time come crawling out once more and you wonder if you are both to go on with the rest of your lives without ever mentioning what happened that day long ago. the silence breaks and everyone’s head turns to reiner, who’s holding up his half empty glass.

“to eren,” he declares, and you can practically hear mikasa’s breath hitch in her throat from next to you. around the table you can see the slight glaze over everyone’s eye, the sudden realisation that you truly did all make it out, “and to everyone else lost.” reiner continues.

slowly but surely, everyone’s glasses are raised up to the air and you’re back to years before inspecting jean’s every move like you can practically bore your eyes through his head and read his thoughts. and as your arm is outstretched in tribute to those who should be here with you today, you realise that jean is not looking at you.

he is looking at mikasa, as a single tear slowly trails its way down her cheek. he looks and he looks and he looks, even after everyone places their drinks back on the table with a synchronous clink. everyone is sharing a sympathetic glance at her, but in your most selfish moment you stare at jean.

you slowly watch as he stretches out his hand across the table and gently clasps it over hers, offering her a consoling smile and looking at her in ways you could only dream. sometimes you think maybe this is the look he gives you, maybe this is what you see when his eyes suddenly catch yours across the room or when he had brushed his thumb under your eye or when he tells you he looks forward to your next letter. but no – the look you long for is in front of you between him and her. from him to her.

without even thinking, you clasp your hand on mikasa’s shoulder and make your way off of your chair and suddenly jean is quickly retracting his own from hers. you cannot even spare him a look. you feel so selfish, you feel so dumb. you made it through battle upon battle and monstrosity upon monstrosity yet for some reason you cannot make it through whatever you feel for jean.

“think i’m done for the night,” you blurt out, voice slightly slurred from the amount of drinks you’ve had – though you suspect everyone else’s voices are similar. through everyone’s boos and goodbye’s you can hear jean.

“what?”

but you can barely spare him a glance before you’re grabbing your coat from the back of your chair, crossing the room and leaving the bar with no hesitation.

*~*

it’s only ‘til you’re halfway down the cobblestone street where the bar is that you realise the reason you’re so uncomfortable and cold and wet is because it is raining and you forgot your damn umbrella in the bar. so swept up in thoughts of a man who doesn’t love you that now you’re standing in the middle of the street at god knows what time looking like a fool.

jean kirstein doesn’t love you.

does jean kirstein love you?

why doesn’t jean kirstein love you?

maybe you were fine with whatever lingering glance and weekly letter and small yet fleeting touch. maybe a deep most embarrassing part of your mind thought perhaps he was growing to. maybe some convoluted side of you thought that perhaps with this much effort he put into sustaining your friendship, something else could be there. maybe–

“hey!” a voice calls after you in the distance.

you instinctively turn around and of course, of course, it’s him in all of his glory standing in the rain with your folded umbrella in hand and raised towards you.

“i think you forgot something,” he says and he starts to jog towards you. when he notices your hair dripping wet and your face almost laminated as he reaches you he can’t help but laugh, “though i’m a little late.”

“thanks,” you muster out, but you can’t seem to manage to take the umbrella from him. you can’t seem to move at all. jean frowns. he knows that something is wrong, and you can tell that he knows. it’s not like you (you who insists on writing letters, on meeting every few months, on reminiscing and appreciating and loving those who have come all this way with you) to suddenly leave without another word.

“what’s wrong?” jean starts, staring down at you staring down at your shoes.

you can’t speak until suddenly a hand is lightly touching your chin and tugging your face up. you’re met with his face and you hope – you pray – that he cannot notice whatever tears may or may not have escaped and that he may think your sniffling is from spending time out in the rain and not from this sudden sadness that feels like it’s taking over your every limb.

sadness for what? for something that never was?

“i’m going to bed, jean,” you say, slightly angling your chin away from his hand which remains in mid-air despite your movement.

“tell me,” he repeats, “tell me what’s wrong.”

you stare at his wet hair that has started to stick to his forehead for a moment. for a few. until suddenly you realise that he’s begging. he’s begging. he’s begging for you to tell him…to say it. and surely by now he can tell it’s from all that time ago, when you were bearing your soul to him in what could have been your final moments alive with each other. he must know. he has to know.

it's when he slightly nods his head at you as he watches you rummage through your own thoughts that he does know. he just wants you to say it.

“you’ll never love me, will you, jean?”

“that’s–”

“jean, please,” you snap, “just be honest with me. you owe it to me.”

“i know i do, i…” he feels like he’s barely able to enunciate. barely able to keep the words pouring out of him before they even make sense in head, “i’m sorry about the boat.”

your heart is rising and falling and rising and falling and you don’t think you would’ve ever heard any acknowledgment about what happened that day for as long as you lived. you thought that despite the fact that the both have you have faced enemies larger than life, you would both have never faced that day together.

“yeah,” you barely mouth out.

“i’m sorry i didn’t say anything. i’m sorry i…i just left. i don’t know why i–” he cuts himself off with two hands up to his hair, scrunching and pulling at it like his life depends on it, “the last thing i ever wanted was to hurt you.”

“it’s a bit late for that,” you can’t help but spitefully remark. you hate what this has made you into, this bitter and sad person this heartache has rendered you into.

“i know,” he breathes, “i know. but i…” it’s like it’s paining him to speak, and it’s a miracle you can even hear each other over the raindrops colliding down onto the street beneath you. your chests are both heaving and your breath is evaporating into steam in front of you. your clothes are soaked all the way through and jean’s are certainly on the way to being the same.

“…you?” you urge.

“i think i do.”

what?

“what?”

his hands are suddenly on your shoulders and his eyes are boring into you and you can feel the steam of his breath on your cheeks.

“i think i do,” he says again, voice racing itself, “like, really really do. i know it’s mean to say this now, i know it’s selfish. but i just need time. i just need to let go, somehow.”

you can taste the salt of your tears.

“let go of her, you mean?” and jeans eyebrows scrunch at the fact that you know full well what he means. he’s always known that you’ve know – sure, he saw your reaction at the bar – he just never imagined that you’d speak it aloud. speak it aloud to him.

he swallows, “yeah.”

you’re tired, you’re so so tired.

“i’m going to bed, jean,” and you start turning and wrenching yourself out of his grasp, but his hand is now around your wrist holding you in place.

“wait,” he urgently blurts, “please.”

“jean,” you tearfully sigh. this is not the life you want to live. you did not survive for this. you did not fight and win and go on just to still have your heart dictated by jean and mikasa.

“please,” he says again, slowly.

“jean, i’ve been waiting for you for years, whether i’ve liked it or not.”

“i know–”

“and now we have no war. now we have people, we have lives. we have something more than bloodshed.”

this time, jean lets you when you carefully tear yourself out of his grasp and fully face him.

“and i’m not letting myself spend what we have now waiting.”

*~*

that night, you take your umbrella from jean and walk to the nearby inn that you have all purchased rooms in for your stay without ever opening it. you listen to your feet echo against the empty cobblestone street and thank yourself that you turned and left before you could stare at jean’s back leaving you like before.

when you get to your room, you strip off all of your clothes and leave them in a heaped damp puddle in the corner of the room, then sit at your bed alone staring out the window. the wind slightly batters against the wooden panes and you can hear its distant howl.

it’s then that you realise you are somehow still on that boat. and maybe you are cursed to never leave.

thanks for reading :) feel free to request (please something other than jean dear god)

[16bruises]

Descent

word count : 1.5k

important information for writers who use google docs

A conversation between Miles and Peter B after the events of Across the Spider-Verse

”Truth without love is brutality, and love without truth is hypocrisy”

-Warren Wiersbe

“Hey-hey Miles, buddy listen-“ Peter B took a moment to catch his breath and check on Mayday before continuing, “when Miguel gets pushback he tends to.. uhm overreact.”

Miles stared deadpan at Peter before mumbling, “I feel like I, of all spider-people, would know that.”

“Well- Yeah- Well, you know- Miguel just- He” Peter fumbled with his words for a good minute before combing his fingers gently through Mayday’s bright red hair and started over slowly.

“I know you have some idea of what happened with Miguel’s daughter, he just… has a really really really hard time listening to alternatives when it comes to this kinda stuff Miles. And hey, don’t get me wrong, you were makin’ more sense to me than he usually does.” Peter chuckled lightly.

“I thought he was going to kill me” Miles fully turned to face Peter, “I thought he was going to kill me for not being bit by a spider that got into MY universe or for not being my universe’s Peter Parker and then I thought he’d go after my Dad.” Miles’ voice grew hoarse towards the end of his words, his eyes starting to water as he remembered the pure fear and adrenaline that had pumped through his veins while being chased down by Miguel O’Hara.

Peter, careful to not upset the young boy further, tugged Miles close and wrapped a strong arm around his shoulders. “I’m sorry Miles, if.. If I’d known I swear to god I would’ve done something- gotten you home so fast, kid. I would’ve done something I swear.” He spoke softly, mindful of his sleeping baby.

Miles glanced down at Mayday before leaning into Peter’s shoulder, accepting his safe hold. “I believe you, I trust you, ok? I know it might not be your place but could you just explain Miguel’s situation? At least a little bit more to me, if you’re alright with that.”

Miles’ eyes darted down to the ground awkwardly as he waited for Peter to respond.

Peter patted Miles’ shoulder and sighed, “Yeah, I don’t see why not. Most of the spider society knows about it anyways”

Miles faced back towards Peter, “I just wanna understand his situation a little better so maybe I could see where he’s coming from… you get me?”

Peter smiled sadly and patted Miles’ shoulder again, “Yeah Miles, I get you.”

-

“As you know- Miguel took the place of another man. He stole that man’s life and he paid the price for doing so.” Peter’s eyes stare out into the cityscape as he speaks,

“Miguel had a daughter, Gabriella. She was pretty young when… everything fell apart.

He had a wife there too, a really lovely lady.”

“Anyways, when that universe fell apart Miguel wasn’t able to save Gabriella, she disappeared straight out of his arms.” Peter leans down to press a quick kiss onto Mayday’s little forehead, “I think that’s always been a hard thing for him to grasp, that he genuinely couldn’t DO anything to save her at that moment.”

“But his wife, (y/n), he got her out. He got her to his actual universe. I don’t think you met her, I only met her once or twice. She lives in 2099 now.”

“How did he get (y/n) out?”

“I think he panicked at the first sign of the end and told her some stuff but who really knows? The only facts we do know is that she’s the only survivor from her universe and she had a dimensional travel watch thingy on when her universe kicked the bucket.”

“Do you think Miguel told her to wear the watch?” Miles stared down at his hands as he whispered.

“…yeah, he probably did. He probably did the same with Gabriella too. But, what little girl is gonna happily wear a hunk of metal while she plays soccer? Y’know?”

Miles hummed in response and glanced at Peter, catching him with his shoulders slumped and his face sad.

“Anyways.. back to what I was saying— Miguel’s wife, (y/n), survives the destruction of her universe. He’s heartbroken over Gabriella but he’s trying to focus on his wife. He goes to console her about the literal death of everything and everyone she’s ever known…

and she doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. In fact, she doesn’t know where they are, why he seemed so upset, where Gabriella was.”

Miles squinted, “I’m confused”

“She didn’t remember anything. She didn’t remember Miguel, the one we both know. Her memory.. her memory only went up to a certain point. Come to find out she can’t remember anything past Miguel -her Miguel’s death.” Peter huffed,

“Miguel was already losing it because his baby girl was gone and now the love of his life didn’t remember him.”

“But that wasn’t HIS daughter or wife”

Peter turned to face Miles, “He still loves them, a lot. A ton.” Peter responded sternly.

Miles looked back down at his hands, “You said (y/n) lives in 2099 still but she still doesn’t remember what happened to her kid?”

“Yeah, it’s… rough.” Peter tilted his head upwards, looking at the sky

“And you said you’ve met her”

“I have.” Peter could see the curious tilt of Miles’ head in the corner of his eye.

“The first time I met her was a little before MJ told me she was pregnant so it didn’t hit as close. Thinking back on it though, I-I couldn’t imagine.” Peter sounded distraught,

“I was gonna ask Miguel something, I honestly can’t remember what, it’s not important. And she, (y/n), was just… there. Miguel was showing her these videos of their daughter and (y/n) kept asking when Gabriella’s soccer practice would be over because she couldn’t remember what time they ended.” Peter looked downwards at Mayday before carding his fingers through his hair and deeply sighing.

“If (y/n)’s been away from her kid for so long wouldn’t she catch on? At least notice that something was up?”

“You’d think so but I think having your universe of origin wiped from existence probably messes with your brain. She glitches out even though she’s basically shackled, nobody’s ever seen her without the dimensional watch on.”

“Do you think she’s gonna.. not.. be around as long?”

“I’ve heard she’s been glitching more frequently so, she probably won’t be around for as long as she should’ve been.”

“What was the second time you met her like?” Miles fidgeted with his fingers nervously. He could tell Peter was sad about and for Miguel and (y/n).

“Hm… Miguel wasn’t there that time, it was just her. And it was after Mayday had been born. I wanna say it was like the 3rd or 4th time I’d brought her with me. Mayday gets loved on LOTS by spider-people but (y/n) just melted. She adored Mayday. Mayday liked her too, it was really cute. I got a ton of pictures by the way… if you wanna see later.” Peter grinned

“I’ve seen more pictures of your baby than I’ve seen spider-people!” Miles groaned playfully.

“HA! Well, anyways not to kick a dead horse- but that whole.. all of that is kinda why Miguel is so hellbent on keeping this canon stuff. We’re all pretty sure (y/n) doesn’t have very long left and that’s not your fault Miles but he’s been getting worse as she gets more and more… uh glitchy? I guess.” Peter patted Miles in the shoulder before pulling his arm away to wrap both around Mayday.

“Do you think she knows about the canon stuff at all?” Miles cracked his knuckles, glanced between his hands and Peter.

Peter kissed Mayday’s hair, “Doubt it” Peter frowned. “Miguel… he’s a hypocrite Miles.”

Miles turned to fully face Peter once again, this time he didn’t know what to say.

“He loves her, I know it. It’s sad. Heartbreaking what he’s gone through.” Peter tucked a loose strand of hair carefully behind Mayday’s ear, “But he’s spiraling, his wife is.. his wife’s dying and he’s not handling it well. Who would? That doesn’t mean he should ever have done what he didn’t to you Miles.” Peter reached a firm hand out to Miles shoulder.

Peter looked up, cleared his throat, “Not to ramble, but my point is: he would and has broken canon for his wife. She, and again I think she’s lovely, should not exist anymore. But he went against everything he claims he stands for to keep her. So.. we’ll get you home Miles, and we’ll make sure you and your dad are safe. If Miguel tries anything.. I don’t think I’d enjoy it but if it comes down to it I will get (y/n) involved if I had to.”

part 2 - Remembrance

[eddiediaaz]

hellooooo! i read a lot of buck/eddie fics, literally everyday, and earlier this december i thought "why not share some of my favorites that i have read this month?" so here we are! i couldn't include everything i've read and enjoyed, the list would be really long. but i've picked a few fanfics that i've read (for the first time) in december that were really huge favorites and stayed with me for a little while these past days/weeks. i will try to make these on a monthly basis, because fanfic authors deserve all of the recognition! oh, and happy new year!

both blades and branch by @cal-daisies-and-briars 62k | mature | canon divergence | completed: december 2023

The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

this fic is absolutely incredible. i couldn't put it down once i started. it's extremely well written and brilliantly planned out. the angst is heavy but so is the reward: this is an amazing story. easily an all-time favorite!

my blood on your skin (my rose on your snow) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels 80k | explicit | alternate universe | posted: october 2023

When Eddie needs cash and fast to take care of Christopher, his LAFD Academy buddy suggests a job as a bouncer at Elysium - an exclusive sex club in downtown Los Angeles. Eddie doesn't care what goes on there, so long as he's paid, but he finds he cares a lot bout the club's enigmatic owner, Evan Buckley, and it's not long before the two of them are violating every boss-employee rule in the book. But there's something different about Buck and the club, something not quite... human. If Eddie wants to keep Buck, he's going to have to delve into the world of immortals, and all the risks that implies.

another exquisite fic from this author. they never miss!! this one explores a dynamic i don't read that often (sub eddie) but it works SO well here. extremely well done, as usual. i also absolutely love this buck here.

burn a bridge, learn how to swim [series] by watermelonshorts 34k | mature/explicit | canon verse | completed: july 2021

In which there is some unexpected making out, some pining, one third of an existential crisis and a lot of unhelpful advice. Not necessarily in that order.

they are GIANT disasters in here! really loved the humoristic tone of this whole thing. i just wanna shake them and yell learn how to communicate properly damn it!

dead reckoning by euadnes 28k | mature | canon verse | posted: december 2022

In which a tragedy on the edge of a firestorm leaves part of the 118 stranded and struggling to survive in the wilderness. Left entirely to their own devices, the survivors fight to come home, alive.

buck, eddie, and ravi survive a plane crash, and it's amazing. incredibly well written, i was hooked from the very start and couldn't put it down until i was done.

here comes the jackpot question in advance by @lamardeuse 4k | teen+ | canon verse | posted: december 2023

Buck is determined to start the new year right.

this is very very very cute!!! i always love a cute holiday themed get together story. as always, this author nailed the characterization!

being eddie by @cal-daisies-and-briars 79k | teen+ | canon divergence | completed: august 2023

When Eddie starts seeing a new therapist, he’s presented with the opportunity to revisit several days from his past and right regrets that still bother him. OR: Eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the 2009 Canadian TV show Being Erica

incredible concept!!! all the moments chosen for eddie to revisit are perfect and make so much sense for his character. this was such a great read and an absolutely amazing character exploration fic.

a blaze in the dark by @woodchoc-magnum 117k | explicit | canon verse | published: december 2023

Set post-Season 6, where Buck has inadvertently sacrificed his friendship with Eddie in order to focus on his new relationship with Natalia, and is shocked when Eddie comes out to the team and subsequently reveals that he is dating a guy.

okay so i literally read this in one sitting and went to bed at 7am to finish it. i couldn't put it down. the angst is SO good and frustrating and delicious and painful. but the payoff is so worth it!! this is really really really good. i loved all the dynamics, especially eddie and karen's friendship.

[felixora]

Baldur's Gate 3 Companion!Tav Ask List by @paarthursass 

Please check their List here, it's literally a top tier list

(contains major spoilers for the game, and for some dark urge runs as well)

Had to redo this, but finally I'm satisfied with the result. Here's my drow Soulknife Rogue (please oh please adapt this subclass for the game) Arnafein Rilynghym.

General

1.Where can your Tav be recruited?  Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region?  Or are they not recruitable until a later act?

He can be recruited not too far away from the Blighted Village area, in the forest outcropping.

He’ll be there with a pair of poorly equipped young tieflings and a group of goblins, trying to cool things down between the two and convince the goblins to leave the tieflings only to him. The player/party members might catch on some details in his facial expression that would be giving away a lie, as well as his attempts to place himself between tieflings and goblins.

As the player’s group comes closer, the player (and other companions, which is important) and Arno are connected through their tadpoles, though much more painfully than in other cases (the narrator might even comment on that). Arno would recognize in you another survivor that escaped the nautiloid and through pain would telepathically ask you to play along. After that with more demand addressing the goblins as “another True Soul came to look for them, so would they finally let them do their fucking job?” The player might choose the Deception/Persuasion route to play along with Arno, to simply attack the goblins (in which case both tieflings and Arno would help out) or attack Arno and tieflings under the guise of him “being the survivor, that Absolute cultists are looking for” (in this case tieflings would die and Arno will be captured and interrogated by Minthara).

2.Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

Gale – A friendly drow! That’s a rarity in this place, as far as I can tell. Let’s hope this won’t be a double-crossing situation though.

Shadowheart – Arno seems well versed in dealing of these cultists. I just hope he won’t stick his nose in other’s thoughts – we have more than enough mind-probing as it is.

Astarion – Well that was a spectacle. I hope our newest addition won’t stop to help any stray or poor thing in need.

Wyll – It takes a lot of inner strength to stand by those in need, especially under the weight of your own troubles. Arno would be a good addition to our group.

Karlach – Well Arno seems to know some shit around here. Now we don’t need to blindly walk around in search of the bad guys place.

Lae’zel – The elf’s knowledge of this place seems useful. Can’t say the same of his handling of tadpole’s effects. We ought to be careful.

3.Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

Gale – Having a wizard around should improve our chances of survival. Though I’m sure as hell won’t be asking him about any teleportation.

Shadowheart – It’s good to have a helping cleric’s hand with us. However, the choice of name does bring a bit of ominous feel to this acquaintance.

Astarion – The whole knife play was a bit too on the nose for be, but I can understand his reaction. Let’s hope his bloody tendencies will be the problem of our enemies, and not ours.

Wyll – The Blade of Frontiers… Well, the name does sound grand, though cannot say I heard of it before.

Karlach – Karlach’s spirit sure will brighten up our company. I just hope we won’t wake up to the actual hellfire.

Lae’zel – The gith looks like a tough fighter. But don’t expect me to go on errands for her.

4. What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Raise:

Empathy and Compassion towards weaker or struggling.

Supporting freedom, autonomy and choices that align with his desire to break free from societal expectations.

Sharing a sarcastic sense of humor can lead to a bond with him, as he appreciates this attitude. Engaging in witty banter and humor is a plus.

Illegal activities aimed at helping others.

Lower:

Disregarding or belittling others' struggles or doubts, particularly in moments of their vulnerability, resonating with his own past of self-doubt and anxiety.

Yielding to controlling individuals or behaving subserviently in the face of authority.

Aggression towards the weak.

5. Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

The first instance is tied to letting Minthara join a party (murdering of tieflings would significantly lower Arno’s approval, but letting Minthara join the party would be the point of conflict, in which Arno will go a separate path).

The second instance would be tied to possible betrayal, around end of Act 2 – a group of drow agents, which would represent the house Rilynghym (Arno’s family), will ambush the party. They are tasked with bringing Arno back home, as well as extracting Githyanki prism.

Depending on the level of approval, the player can persuade Arno to go about this peacefully (understand that there was more at stake and they needed the Gith’s prism), persuade Arno to attack the spies or Arno will turn his back on the group altogether.

6. Do they have any secrets that can be revealed?  What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light?

The Player would find out in Camp that Arno has partial amnesia, and remembers some parts of his childhood and his family, but not the last 3 months since he left home. As the adventure progresses, he’ll start to remember more and more, as well as start having a repeating blurry dream of his mother calling out to him, but he would understand any of her words. 

As the game progresses, he would remember that his house (a drow house Rilynghym, that settled on the surface, in Neverwinter), that specializes in espionage and infiltration, sent their agents to infiltrate the cult of the Absolut and acquired information about some sort of artefact.  The spies disappeared in Baldur's Gate, and as Nathiira received the news, Arno (who wanted to finally prove to his mother that he is worthy of her trust and can help the house on an equal footing with everyone else) suggested that he could investigate the matter. This provoked the conflict between mother and son, which ended in Arno being put in a cell. He escaped the imprisonment and ventured to Baldur’s Gate on his own.

In Baldur's Gate, Arno found out that the spies were supposed to steal a specific artefact for their house, but they were discovered by the cultists and taken as prisoners. All but one.

The spy, named Tsabran, a loyal servant of Matron Nathiira, managed to avoid the cultists and got in touch with Arno, telling him everything that happened. He explained that the spies, were trying to steal an artefact of incredible power created by the cultists. However, their hideout was discovered, and the cultists caught all the spies except Tsabran.

The artefact was supposed to have a power of a mini-version Elderbrain, allowing its wielder to enhance telepathic influence on intelligent creatures, and even subdue large groups of creatures to their will. It had to work in the hands of those who have psionic abilities, enhancing them tenfold. (Note: the artefact can unlock the ending, where instead of someone becoming an illithid, Arno will use the artefact and his own psychic skills to suppress Elderbrain) Together, Tsabran and Arno devised a plan to steal the artefact and bring it back to Matron Nathiira. They managed to get to the room with the artefact through secret tunnels. However, before Arno could check the artefact for traps, Tsabran lifted it off the pedestal and thus activated the alarm. The two had to flee, but Arno was wounded during the escape. He hoped for help from Tsabran, but the latter left him behind, running away with the artefact. That's how the cultists captured Arno.

7. Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game?  Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?

Arno’s personal quest would be focused on him slowly regaining his memories of past months, and in the process fighting the memories of emotional abuse and neglect from his mother, that led to his anxiety and feeling of never being enough. As he would regain memories he would have more and more doubts, if chasing after mother’s approval is really what he wants from life, especially if it goes against his moral code.

Player can help him find confidence in himself, support his attempts to make his own decisions in spite of what was drilled into his head for decades (and became part of his sub-conscious behavior; for example him having a sweet tooth but denying himself any sweet food due to previous prohibitions from his mother)

Alternatively, Player can insist on the notion, that Arno’s mother was right, that he wasn’t ready for any sort of adventure like this, and specifically his lack of skills, patience and knowledge were the reason of his troubles. That Arno’s mother only tried to protect him and their house, to give them a better life.

Toward the end of Act 2, MC with Arno is ambushed by members of House Rilynghym, who were sent by Nathiira to bring Arno home, as well as retrieve Gith's prism with him (when asked, the spies would answer that Nathiira found out about the prism and its influence through telepathic connection with Arno).

At that moment, Arno will remember the captured spies in Baldur's Gate and tell the newcomers that the situation has become much more important and dangerous than possessing some artefacts and gaining more power for their house.

Depending on the Player's actions and the level of approval with Arno, the situation will go in different directions:

Arno confidently tells the spies to go back home, because the existence of the cult threatens their house as well.

Arno and the Player fight the spies to keep the prism. Arno does not approve of this, but is persuaded by the Player to fight on their side.

Arno joins the spies, having more faith in his mother's judgment. He and the spies will die in the battle.

In 3rd act, as the group reaches the Baldur's Gate, during one of the nights, Arno’s mother will get in touch with him via telepathic projection – all of the companions infected with the tadpole will see and hear her as well, as part of their shared connection. She will say that she is very disappointed that he did not return with the spies when he had the opportunity.

Nathiira says “I've been very patient, considering your completely stupid and irresponsible behavior. Go back home, now.” Аrno exhaled, nervously gesturing towards his mother “Can't you listen to me for once? I'm trying to explain, that what's happening in Baldur's Gate is a threat to the entire region. And our family, too.” There is a tense pause. As Nathiira looks at him with her familiar calculating look, Arno looks down, slightly lowering his head as well “Just, listen. I can't just leave, not with this... thing in my head. So I can look for Tsabran and the artifact. Show you that I can do this.” Nathiira is silent for a few moments, closely looking at her son before finally exhaling: “You won't just drop this, would you? Fine. This is your task now. The last time Tsabran sent us a message, he mentioned that he was hiding somewhere deep and wet.” Arno breathes a sigh of relief and Nathiira speaks again: “Arnafein” there is a long pause, where she considers what to say before finally settling on her choice “Don't let me down.”

The group will go in search of Tsabran in the underground part of the city.

When the group finds Tsabran, it turns out that the artifact has begun to negatively affect his mind, making him more neurotic, full of paranoia and hallucinations. Because he was not a psionist himself, the artifact could not find enough power in his mind and his brain literally began to melt from it.

At that moment, Tsabran was obsessed only with the idea that he was the one who had to deliver the artifact to Matrona and receive her recognition and gratitude. The group had fight to get the artifact. In battle with Tsabran, he’ll have control over some civilians and creatures from sewers, all while screaming about how he will prove the Matron his loyalty and usefulness. Arno will recognize some of the civilians from the 1st day they entered Baldur’s Gate.

As Arno defeats Tsabran and takes the artifact, the telepathic projection of Nathiira appears, noting that she felt the artifact’s power through their connection.

The projection of Nathiira comes closer, with fascination looking at the artifact “Incredible isn’t it? Imagine how much influence we might gain with this in our hands. No-one will ever dare to even think of harming our house ever again.” Arno shakes his head “Mother this artifact won’t bring us any good. It breaks people, strips them of their will, it’s not-” Nathiira interrupts him “It’s exactly what we need to survive, Arnafein. This will finally give us the protection we needed. Any politician, any noble, any rival of ours now can be brought under our control. They won’t be harmed, they just won’t think about harming us” Arno exclaims “It will harm them, mother, this is exactly what taking away freedom of their mind is!” Nathiira huffs and waving him away with a hand “Oh, don’t be such a child, they will be fine! It’s better than getting rid of them all-together.” After a moment, she adds, more steel in her voice “You wanted to prove yourself to me. This is your chance. Do as I say - bring us the artifact.”

Depending on Players choice, Arnafein either will agree to bring the artefact home or will say that he’ll give the artifact to the Harpers for protection.

Choice “Arnafein agreed to bring the artefact home”

Arno closed his eyes, battling with his own doubts in his head. But moments later his shoulder sagged down, and he bows his head and finally said “As you say, Matron.” Nathiira looks pleased, relaxed. “Good. I’m glad you saw reason. Now, our agents should be nearby...” Arnafein raises his head slightly, looking at his mother with confusion “What? I... I thought you sent only me.” Nathiira patiently sighs “They were here just in case, to assure that the mission was successful. Don’t think too much about it - it was still all you. And our people will know it as such.” After a pause she continues “Now, I won’t take anymore of your time, the faster the artifact will be brought here, the better. Go.” With a slight pause, Arnafein bows, and Nathiira calls for him one last time. “And Arnafein. I’m proud of you, son.” As the group exits the chamber where they battled Tsabran, the spies meet them right at the exit. One of the agents steps forward “Sir, we’ve just received the message from Matron - we’re at your service. If you’ll need our assistance in upcoming battle, you can count on us ” Arno absentmindedly nods “Good. Make sure that the artifact is delivered as fast as possible to Neverwinter” and he gives the artifact to the agents before adding with more presence “As for everything else - I will call if you are needed.”

Choice “Arnafein refused to bring the artefact back home”

Arno closed his eyes, frowning, battling with his own doubts in his head. But moments later he takes a deep breath and looks up at his mother. “I’m sorry, I won’t do this. This is not our way. I will give the artifact to Harpers and they’ll make sure no-one gets harmed anymore because of it” Nathiira looks at him for a long moment, her jaws clenched, her eyes hard and cold. “Just as I thought. You would pass on a golden opportunity to put our house out danger forever, just so you can play a hero.” She steps forward, her telepathic projection getting right in the face of Arno, before she sneers. “You are not a hero. You’re just an arrogant, naive child, who thinks he knows better than everyone else.” She continues looking at him, as Arno meets her stare with his own sudden resolution. Nathiira spits out “Well you don’t.” She takes a step back, turning away from Arnafein and adding, “We'll have a long talk about it when you get home” Arnafein let’s a moment pass, before, with deep sadness saying “No. I don’t think we will” As Nathiira stops and turns back to him, Arno raises his hand and her eyes widen in understanding and shock. Arno sliced the air with his hand and permanently severed their family telepathic connection. As the group exits the chamber where they battled Tsabran, the spies meet them right at the exit. Arno, not expecting to see them, will take a step back before asking “What- What are you doing here?” One of the agents steps forward, slightly bowing his head. “Sir. The Matron ordered us to keep an eye on you and intervene in case of imminent danger to your life” Arno dumbly looks at him, repeating his words “Keep an eye? Aha. Hahaha” He bitterly laughs, rubbing his hand over his face “she didn’t even... Of course she didn’t.” As Arno says with utter betrayal and disappointment he once again turns to bewildered agent, and says “Well, as you see I’m fine and dandy, so you can return home and report as such” The agents exchange glances, before with a doubt in a voice one of them says “Sir, we were also told to retrieve the artifact” Player can choose what to do - “Let Arno handle this” - (Deception) The artifact was destroyed by Tsabran in the battle. - (Intimidation) The artifact stays with us, want it or not. In case of failure or letting Arno handle this, Arno will say: “There was... a change of plans. Matron knows of this, so you’re in the clear. Return home, agents”

8. What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp?  How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

Stay in camp – “You sure? I might hear the danger coming from miles away. Well, the thoughts of danger, more precise.” And after confirmation “Well, suit yourself.”

Come adventuring again – “Knew you’d come around”

9. Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

No.

10. Are there any unique NPCs associated with your Tav that can show up during the course of the game?

In act 3 in Elfsong Tavern the group can meet Arno’s older sister Maliara, which would be trying to draw as little attention as possible. She’ll tell Arno that she and their uncle went behind mothers back and their uncle made a deal with Lorroakan to open a portal from Neverwinter to Baldur’s Gate and allow Maliara passage to the city. Maliara will try to persuade Arno to return home with her (depending on the previous encounter with the spies Arno’s reaction to this would differ, but he will say that he can’t return yet – not with the danger of Absolute cult behind their backs). Maliara would be gentle with her words, but also vocal about her worries for her brother, even going as far as offering her help in this whole quest, despite Arno’s own worry for her. If the Player invites her to join Camp, she’ll become a permanent addition to it, as an Artificer (trading different alchemical supplies). 

11. Are there any moments in the game that trigger unique dialogue for your character? (Like Gale’s anecdote about the barfight after you save the goblin prisoner)

In Moonrise Towers, while looking at some of the battle and floor plans of Shadowcursed lands, Arno will recognize them. “We’ve had this floor plans for months before the spies went missing...” “My house knew about the inner dealing of the cult. And told no-one. How many people we could have saved if we just warned, I don’t know, the Harpers or the city governments. Instead we were chasing after some stupid artifacts.”

In act 2, when meeting gnolls and other creatures mind-controlled by the other cultists, Arno will express his genuine disgust for this, saying that no-one should go through such violation of autonomy. He might recall going through the same thing, when he was still little and some slavers tried to abduct him and his sister, and how terrified he was over losing control of his body.

Story Specific

1.How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

“I can see the advantage we’ll have with these powers, but you always have to pay the piper. And our friend does sound like a skilled musician. Let’s just be careful with the help they are providing.”

2. How do they advise the player character on Raphael?

“One blink – and there goes your freedom in those clawed hands. Not even one story has a happy-ending when it comes to deals with the devil. I don’t think we’ll be the exception to the rule, so let’s not gamble with our lives more than we already do.”

3. How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?

“Huh, well that explains all those thought-wishing about having a taste…” “I have no problem with him staying, as long as he remembers his manners”

4. How do they react to the Player Character letting Abdirak whip them?

“That’s um… An interesting… View. Right”

5. How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

“You know, when I said “be careful but curious” I really had more emphasis on the careful part. Although, you seem alright… at least for now. Just give me some heads up next time, I might prepare the knife just in case.”

6. Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently?

Arno will stay with Player if they side with Goblins, but he’ll strongly disapprove of this.

7. What can they be found doing at the tiefling/goblin party?

On tiefling’s party: He’ll be staying near Mol, bouncing back and forth with her ideas regarding how to get the most profit from drunk adults (“They leave a lot of their belongings unattended, who’s to say you won’t be the one to find them and be oh-so-kind to return them for a small price for such lost-and-found services.”). The reason for that is partially due Arno wanting to be a bit far away from so many drunk people, as his head starts to be in huge pain from all of their thoughts.

On goblin’s party: He’ll be staying very far away from any possible party participants, possibly in the shade of the trees, closed off and gloomy. When approached, he’ll say that he hopes the lives of all those innocents were worth this “blast of a party” and that this arrangement better pay off with finding the cure. If questioned by the Player further, Arno would admit that there is someone back home who came up in his memories – two small tiefling kids with dark skin, his sister’s kids. He’ll lament that he can’t stop imagining all those slayed kids in the grove as his nephews.

8. Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with? 

Gale – I see you have your hands full of our local wizard. I’m sure you’ll sleep soundly after his lectures.

Shadowheart – Hopefully we won’t find your cold and lifeless body somewhere in the ditch tomorrow. Jokes aside – do have a wonderful night, I’m sure Shadowheart will leave her poisons for more desirable targets.

Astarion – Astarion is… A spicy choice. I honestly hope I will be far enough to enjoy a quiet night without playing a witness to any… lewd thoughts. Or bloody ones, pick your poison.

Wyll – Seems like our local monster hunter already took your attention.

Karlach – Well someone’s in for a warm night. I just hope you’ll be responsible and all of that stuff and won’t burn our camp in flames of accidental passion.

Lae’zel – You sure do have interesting taste in company. Hopefully, we’ll see you in one piece tomorrow – otherwise, don’t expect me trying to avenge you.

9. Do they have unique dialogue if the Player Character lets them die when they steal the Blood of Lathander?

-

10. How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

1st time. No. No-no-no, stop thinking that, stop.

2nd time. Oh for gods sake… Is it only the “Underdark knowledge” to not lick the damn spiders?

11. What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

1st time “Ha-ha, what a wonderful idea (telepathically “don’t you fucking dare”)”

2nd time “Right, on stage. Dreamed of this all my life (telepathically “you better sleep with your eyes open from now on”)”

12. Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin?  How is Orin's deception revealed?

-

13. How do they react to the PC either allowing Astarion to ascend or convincing him to spare the 7000 spawn?

Astarion ascends – “So… He did it. Looks quite pleased too. I don’t know why, but it makes so … angry. He did break from his Masters control, found his ultimate freedom but it all feels so wrong… I just hope this finally brought him the life he desired”

Astarion remains a spawn and spares the 7000 spawn – “I don’t think I saw Astarion that sincerely happy and relaxed, like, ever. It suits him. Do you think he would appreciate congratulations? Or am I “biting off” too much with it? Oh yes, that one is perfect for teasing.”

14. How does Tav react to the PC becoming a mind flayer?  Can they offer to become one themselves?  Does their reaction change if they’re romanced?

If not romanced – Arno would be saddened, but thankful towards the Player, accepting this as a necessary sacrifice.

If romanced – still saddened, but determined that he’ll stay by your side no matter what, as you were there for him, and he’ll do the same for you.

He will not offer to become a mindflayer.

15. How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?

“Huh. Well I can calm you down a bit, as amnesia seems to be something the two of us share. Can’t say the same about a bit of… murder? Anyway, I’m sure there will be plenty of enemies to release your murderous tendencies on.”

16. How do they react to the Dark Urge killing Alfira?

“Now. I don’t even need to be a mind reader to figure out what happened. Another question is why? And you better start explaining now.”

After explanation.

“Well. Let’s pretend we’re friends again – but from further distance.”

17. If romanced, how do they react to the Dark Urge trying to kill them in Act 2?

When woken up – “Hm? Someone’s in mood for a cuddle?” “Although I do sense a bit more tension in you, than usual, love. Are you alright?”

After confessing to what’s happening – “Oh dear, I knew we should have tried reading your memories… Hey, look at me, it will be alright. Whatever it is, you’re so much stronger”

Trying to help the bounded Player “Focus, dear, listen to my voice – (telepathically) “you can overcome this. I won’t let you fall””

“Save the gratitude and focus. I’ll have your back no matter what.”

Romance

1.Is your Tav a romanceable character?  Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

Yes.

2. Does your Tav need to be flirted with to start the romance, or will they approach the PC themselves if approval is high enough?

Arno needs to be flirted with to start a romance.

3. Are they a polyamorous or a monogamous option?

Can go Poly

4. Do they have a special romance scene at the tiefling/goblin party?

Yes (note: romance scene would be only on tiefling party). Arno would ask the Player to join him after party for “little rendezvous”. After everyone goes to sleep, they’ll meet on deserted part of the river shore, where Arno prepared a small place for them with blanket, wine remains and some light food. As Player comes closer to Arno, who is using his much more controlled than before telekinesis to skipping stones across the water, Arno would turn to them:

“Much quieter here, isn’t it?”. He’ll throw another stone without his telekinesis.

Player either can

Try throwing a stone themselves (success / fail) – “You’re full of hidden talents / Not as easy as fighting, yeah?”

Comment that they preferred the lively atmosphere of the party – “Oh nooo, we have a party-goer among us. Horrific.”

Simply agree with Arno. – “A kindred spirit”

Afterwards Arno invites them to sit. As they sit, Arno starts talking:

“I “borrowed” some wine from Mol – thought I’d indulge myself, but then thought better of it. Don’t want to create another telepathic mess with so many drunk bodies around.”

Player could try to persuade Arno to share a drink with them, drink themselves or ask about him if that was his reason to stay away from the party (“Well yes and no. It’s good to be part of celebration, but I generally enjoy not being in the spotlight”)

Arno’ll continue:

“When I found this place, I remembered how when I would be overwhelmed I would leave our family house and spend some time near water, just skipping stones. Helped me focus quite a bit. Silly, but I thought I’d help me remember something from past months. Some name, or a place or… something. But there is nothing”

Player can

Ask them about what they actually remember - (and Arno will suggest to share images from his past, where he stays in large room, near a table covered in maps and plans, listening to some women (his mother) giving orders regarding something), and afterwards comment - “Huh. Not as painful this time”

Reassure them it will come back with time - “Perhaps. Never been good with waiting, but I suppose I don’t have a choice”

Say they might never come back. - “True. Can’t say it brings me any comfort”  

“I don’t know what will awaits us in the future. But right now, I’m glad to have “this” in my memories.” And then he would hastily add “I mean, this, your general company. And others of course”

Player say to shut up and enjoy the moment, or that the sentiment is mutual, in which case Arno will nervously laugh, saying “Yup, ok, good, I’m shutting up”

After which they’ll spent the quiet night observing the river water. 

5. Does the romance have different branching paths, or just one route to take?

There are a few different paths, depending on how his personal quest will progress.

6. How do they react to the player character breaking up with them, or choosing another character over them?

He’ll let a small “Oh” and take a step back, as if slapped, lost for words for a couple of seconds. After which, he’ll try to start talking, with a bit of cheer to his tone at the beginning “Well that was…expected. Though I thought we had more time.” After a pause “Can I ask if there was any specific reason?”

As Player confirms, Arno will say “Well. I will cherish our memories together all the same. Thank you, for giving it to me”.

7. What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test? 

What brings Arno the most comfort?

What future does he see for himself?

What brings his heart the most pain?

8. If they’re poly, do they have a reaction to the PC engaging in a relationship with Halsin?

“Well that’s definitely one of the times when I’m glad I wasn’t snooping around in someone’s thoughts.” He’ll laugh, but with some discomfort and turn his sight downwards. “I mean, if this is really something you’re interested in…  Halsin is definitely a catch, with all that gigantic wall of muscle and natures passion. Can’t judge you for desiring that.” And after a pause. “Although I must ask – does it have anything to do with us?... with me, more specifically? Did I do… or didn’t do something?” After assurance from Player that everything was alright. “Ok, ok, good to hear” “Well, in that case go right ahead. Just please return to me in one piece after all that throwing around and riding and … Ok I’m shutting up.”

9. How do they react if the PC has sex with Mizora? The Emperor?  Haarlep?

Mizora – carefully curious, might ask to share the memories with him via link.

The Emperor – disgusted, when he tries to connect with you telepathically he winces and says “let’s just never speak of it. Never”

Haarlep – Arno would check up on Player, ask is they are alright and if they just need silent company and support – he’ll be there for them.

10. Will they join in with the PC and the Drow Twins, or no?

No. Arno will be feeling very uncomfortable in the brothel, due to remembering that his mother had to work in a brothel in Amn in the past just to provide him and his sister with some roof over their heads, and was treated poorly by the customers.

11. What are Tav’s plans for the future?  Do they propose to the PC, or is marriage not something they’re interested in?

Depending on how his personal quest developed, Arno would:

Travel back to Neverwinter to become a spy on a permanent basis, always under his mother's control (no matter how many unacceptable things he had to do), helping her take direct control of minds of the nobility and small gangs of the Neverwinter region.

Travel back to Neverwinter and agree with his mother’s plan for him to settle down for a quiet, though unhappy, aristocratic life. He’ll become the public face of the house Rilynghym, but will always feel out of place.

Travel the world and build his own name by helping those in need and captivity.

Stay in Baldur's Gate, help rebuild the city and become the city's protector.

Organize his own web of spies that investigated and sabotaged authoritarian regimes and tyrants.

12. Free space! Share anything from your companion!Tav au!

Arno has nearly perfect visual memory, that helped him memories many maps and images (such as his family tattoos, that he tattooed his skin with after leaving home)

He’ll occasionally would lose control of his psychic powers (that are going sideways due to tadpoles influence) when heavily focusing on something which would lead to him extending his telepathy on others and accidentally sharing his thought with them, or start telekinetically levitate things or even small/medium creatures around him.

In 2nd scene of the romance he’ll suggest to the Player to use their psychic connection and would strengthen it to the point, where they both would clearly feel each other’s emotions and touches as if they were their own.

He would joke to hide his nervousness or uncertainty. 

During conversation with MC, Arno will recall good moments from his childhood. How he was raised most of the time by his older sister Maliara and sometimes by his uncle (a psychic wizard). He will recall how, as a child, when all the adults would leave them and go out to find them food/any money, Arno and Malia would sit on the roofs of houses together, watching the sunrise or sunset and getting used to the burning sensation it left on their eyes.

If questioned, Arno will tell about his family, how all of them are psionists, with special gifts in telepathy and telekinesis.  He’ll tell about his uncle, a Neverwinter wizard who could raise a whole house with only his thought. His sister, who is a talented artificer, working on different kinds of living blobs and explosive concoctions. And about his mother, who learned how to influence others and even bend them to her will, though temporarily.

Arno tells there were very little privacy in their house, as their mother wanted to know everything that was going on. If the MC says that’s messed up, he’ll say “Yeah? I never really thought about it that way, I mean - it was typical for us. We kinda were used to it.” He’ll apologize for snooping in others thoughts, as it comes easier to him than to others. Growing up in a household where your every thought was scrutinized and corrected by his mother did give him an impression, that it was alright with everyone else.

If questioned, Arno will tell that he actually has a sweet tooth, but he was forbidden to eat any sweets or sweet fruits at home. He’ll jokingly recall one scene from his childhood:

"I was really upset over some argument with my mom and as always, when I was like this, my sister Malia, came around and brought a whole basket of peaches. I have no idea where she found them, but we spent the whole evening munching on them until we were sick. Then mom returned home, and we kinda missed that. So when we heard her going upstairs to our room, we panicked and hid al peach pits in the plant pot we had in the room.” He laughs. “It took my mom years, before she noticed a peach tree in the room. She was really pissed.”

Despite his difficult and emotionally charged relationships with mother, he really cares for her and genuinely loves her, his older sister and uncle, feeling deep connection to them, that extends even over their telepathic abilities. Arno often finds it difficult to go directly against someone's opinion and generally tries to please others (unless it is in strong conflict with his moral principles of freedom and helping others). He often doubts if his own decisions, but is sincerely grateful when asked about his opinion or help.

The final scene for their personal quest, depending on the outcomes:

If Arno declined to bring artefact home:

Arnafein is sitting on the roof of the inn. The sky is slowly brightening, preparing for the dawn. MC comes closer behind him, and Arno slightly turns his head to their side, nodding his head towards free space near him with a small smile. MC sits; there is a moment of silence.

Player:

*Stay silent.* - Arno sighs "I thought this would be easier..."

"Are you alright?" - Arno "Yes. Just been thinking."

"Cozy place" - Arno smiles "Good for clearing head after messy day"

Arno continues "I breathe more freely than I did in decades. Actually feel like I can go anywhere and there won't be even a fleeting feeling of a leash around my throat. I'm happy." He pauses, his smile turning sour. "I just hoped mom would be happy for me too."

Player:

"Maybe she'll come around" - Arno "You sound like Malia. Maybe you both are right."

"She made her choice, you made yours" - Arno "True. I suppose I wasn't expecting the consequences of my choice to sting so much."

"Seems like she only wanted to control you" - Arno "I think there was love too. Just, her own version of it."

"It's just. We had bad days. But we had good too. I hoped... that good ones mattered more. That deep down she trusted me and was happy for me to find my own path. But she never planned to, has she?"

Player:

"I'm sorry" - Arno "Don't be. You showed me there is more to life than chasing after someone's approval."

*Hug him* - Arno let’s himself be embraces "Thank you. For everything."

"She might have want to, but was too afraid to lose you" - Arno "Perhaps. But I can't sit and wait for her understanding anymore"

"I found my path. With my choices. And my damned consequences."

(If romanced)

He turns to MC, laying hand on their hand.

"There will be bad days. But there will be good days too. And I hope I'll meet them with you - with all of the terrible choices and consequences that entails."

Player:

"Terrible choices, huh?" - Arno smiles "Absolutely wicked"

"Likewise" - Arno smiles "Good to hear we're on the same page"

He kisses the MC, laying hand on their cheek. Kiss will be meek at first, turning more passionate by the second, before they break from each other, grasping for air. Both brightly smiling, and gently grasping each others hand.

"Maybe that's a bit too early to say" - Arno "Well, we have all the time in the world to think on it. And make our own, considered choices."

And as so, the sun starts to rise, basking them in the dawn light.

If Arno agreed to give artefact to agents and bring to mother:

Arno sits on the bench in the outdoor alcove, shielded from the night and people. As MC comes closer they can see, that Arno uses his psionic powers to fully control rats before him.

Arno absentmindedly says "These ones easy to control. It won't be as easy with smarter creatures..."

Player:

"With more time you’ll get a hand of it." - Arno wryly smiled "Yeah, practice is the base of mastery."

"You ok with bending creatures to your will now?" - Arno "My mother wants me to. She thinks it will be useful, back at home."

"You seem troubled." - Arno "This... Is not the most pleasant thing for me. But I’ll get used to it."

"We have a saying back at home... Ilharess zhaun alurl. Matron knows best. For so long I've been trying to get her approval, to make her see me as an adult, not a child. Yet I continued to behave like one."

He makes the rats stand still, in attention. "But I know better now. I know to trust in my mother's judgment."

Player:

"And you'll be content with that?" - Arno "I have to. I will be."

"She seems to know what she's doing" - Arno "She always did, I was just too stubborn to see that myself."

"And what if she'll be wrong?" - Arno "No-one is perfect. But to survive, one needs to trust and obey their leader."

"Ahh look at me, overthinking stuff again."

He let's go of the rats, making then scatter around. "I didn't actually want to... burden you with my stupid troubles."

Player:

"It wasn't an issue at all." - Arno "But it was. It wasn't your problem to solve."

"Yeah, too late for that." - Arno laughs "True, and yet..."

"You were quite whiny sometimes." - Arno "And I apologize for that, as I’ve said it wasn’t your troubles to deal with, so I’ve been unfair."

"What I'm trying to say is... Thank you. To be of use to my house and mother. To be worthy of being her son. I have it - all thanks to you."

(if romanced) He'll lean his head against the MC, trying to kiss them but then will flinch and nervously laugh.

"Well, ok, she, uh... Seems like that will have to wait for later times."

Player:

"Is your mother still in connection with you?" - Arno "Comes with growing up in family of telepaths."

"Wait, what, who?" - Arno "My mother. Still checking in on me and not really approving something... intimate. Ruins the mood a bit."

"Well that's awkward..." - Arno nervously laughs "Yeah, you tell me"

"We can just. Stay here then. Together."

And they stay sitting there in the night.

[icyg4l]

PAC: What Can You Do to Pass Your Finals?

Hello beautiful people! It is about that time of the year again where us students are struggling to meet deadlines & have to study for the dreadful finals. Well, I’m here to give you all some tips on how to pass your final exams this season. I will be using my True Heart tarot deck for this reading per usual. If you resonate with this reading enough to want to book with me, please read my guidelines and dm me for a reading! Without further ado, please select your academic weapon!

Left-to-Right: Pile 1-3 (Elle Woods, Dionne Davenport, Jade the Brat)

Pile 1: I feel like this pile really needs to consider having a study buddy. That would help you tremendously. Doing things like going back and forth to repeat formulas, coming up with sufficient answers for mock trials and practicing for a foreign oral exam with another person can be some of the things that you do. Study dates are absolutely necessary. I feel like you also need to change the scenery. Go somewhere that you’ve never been before, particularly near a body of water. And another thing that you can do to help you achieve academic success is chewing gum while you study. It’s scientifically proven that chewing gum can improve your memory & can boost your test scores (only if you put the effort in though beforehand lmao).

Cards Used: Death, 7 of Cups, Princess of Cups, Knight of Cups.

extras: being by the water. trees. hair twirler. fidget spinner.

Pile Two: I think the best thing that you can do is ask for assistance directly from the source. I feel like this is specifically for those who are struggling in their math or science classes. I get the feeling that you don’t want to take this class ever again. So, you need to get situated and fast. I feel like this pile may be going through a separation/breakup from their partner. It may be affecting your ability to focus on school. But it is best that you not only seek academic guidance from the source, explain your situation to them so that they can understand what you’re going through. They may direct you to some mental help. I feel like another thing that you could do is practice grounding exercises. Surround yourself in nature. Go bicycling or hiking. Go to a conservatory. Lastly, another thing you could do is go for a swim. I feel like you need to get moving. You need to get physical before/while you’re getting ready to study.

Cards Used: 7 of Cups, 9 of Discs, 2 of Cups, Judgment, Queen of Cups, 5 of Cups, Page of Cups.

extras: pull ups. heartburn. feeling helpless. “unusual.”

Pile Three: This pile feels very extreme. It’s a crucial moment in your academic career that could either make or break you, it seems. I think that this finals season determines whether or not you will have to go to summer school or whether you will get into that school. Maybe even going to the next grade or having to retake that particular class. So, you have to buckle in. I am seeing someone crack their knuckles and stretch out their neck. I don’t get the feeling that this is a traditional final. It could be a project or a paper that’s graded harshly. It could also be a collaboration. Whatever it is, I feel like your mother figure could help you a lot with this. She knows more about this subject than you think. Allow her to help. Another thing that can help you is reaching out to people who have done the same project as you in previous years or the semester prior. And lastly, take really good notes from people who are well-versed in this subject. They will come in handy & you won’t regret that you did it.

Cards Used: The Tower, 10 of Discs, The Lovers, The Moon, The Empress.

extras: “it’s gametime.” “appealing.” sweaty hands. marnie. beats headphones. deep breath in & out.

[condxmnxd]

As the mob ensues around her, Sadako's sight begins to fail her, her brain throbbing in pain, trying to use her psychokinesis to prevent them from getting closer. A table moving, a door locking behind her, anything that could prevent her demise... And yet, to no avail. The wrathful pursuers were far more relentless than she. They burst through the door, one of the assailant's hands raised with a sharp utensil, ready to inflict pain upon her. Before the hand comes crashing down, Sadako's eyes jet open.

Her vision settles upon a solitary Sakura tree, pink petals gently gliding to the grassy terrain. "Great, another vision." She's had these unrelenting visions that refuse to subside, and they only become more frequent. When will they end, and why does she keep seeing them, she feels as if she'll never find out. However, she does know something bad was going to happen. Evil thoughts constantly try to push their way to the forefront of her mind, and it has been getting harder and harder to stop them. Her intuition tells her that the visions and evil thought are linked, as if she were about to be... reborn anew.

It finally occurs to her, these visions are not of her, but her evil alter that the Dr. kept sedated. Sadako needed to keep herself separated from the alter... at any cost. Her mother had told her of a dark, mist-like entity that she had seen off the coastline before Sadako was born. "M-maybe..." she whispers to herself. She kneels down to the ground, her palms lay onto her lap, almost prayer-like. She closes her eyes and hopes to beckon the entity to her, the clouds rolling quickly above her, growing dark as they loom over her. Suddenly, cool air swirls around her, thunder cracking in the sky. Her heart pounds in her chest as she feels the darkness beginning to over-take her. Demonic whispers flood her mind, urging her to let go and succumb to her evil self.

She forces her eyes open, only to be face-to-face with her own facade, enveloped in a thick darkness. To her horror, her reflection contorts into a menacing grin, "It looks like we'll BOTH be leaving now." Her scream is suddenly snuffed as the fog engulfs the two of them and she wakes up sat at a campfire, several eyes darting towards her. This must be what her mother had gotten a glimpse of all those years ago... {Well, I guess I got my wish.}

[beware-of-pity]

Sins of the father(s) IV

Masterlist

Previous chapter - Next

Bruce Wayne (Battinson) x Reader

Crossposted on Ao3

Summary:

When the silver spoon feeds well, it is hard to accept that we cannot have what does not want to be taken… unless the person is unaware of it. Sometimes, it’s better to come forward with what is left unsaid, instead of watching others slip from one’s fingers. 

. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་༘࿐

Chapter IV: Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends (Super rich kids with nothing but fake friends)

Bruce felt guilty, as he often did. He carried the guilt of not being able to save his parents on that night in that dark alley, of being the sole survivor. People who knew him, close ones, like Alfred, Dory and you, knew that despite having his life spared, Bruce had not exactly survived that fate twilight. A changed man, he had come out of that crime scene, the ghost of a boy everyone knew he would never be again.

So much anger and guilt he internalised over his own existence that he can only let out when he fights the criminals he sees the face of the man who pointed that gun at him and his parents' faces.

But this, this was a new kind of guilt. Knowing that he had disappointed you, angered you because of the pain he was causing you, created a sting in his chest that he thought he would never feel.

He wanted, he truly did, to try to reach out during these past few days. When he had heard that you would host a luncheon with the members of the charity you managed in your father’s memory, he had wanted to go. Support you, be there for you, but to his dismay, he had to, of course, get hurt the night before on his patrol, ending with his entire torso bandaged and bedridden for two days. Alfred’s orders. He had wanted to send something, flowers, perhaps attached with a note filled with encouraging words, but in the limbo between sleep, which he had the opportunity to catch up on after so long, and those few moments he was awake, he had totally forgotten to ask Alfred to run this commission for him.

He wanted to beat himself up, his hands on the steering wheel of the Batmobile tightening around the leather as he gritted his teeth.

Idiot, what an absolute idiot he was. Could he ever do something right? In his entire life, was there something he was good at other than beating up criminals when blinded by his rage?

Cohesive arguments evaded him, his lack of emotional regulation truly getting to him. He prided himself on the idea that he had been able to control his emotions. But, there was something about you, something that drove him to believe he had not grown at all from when he was a young boy.

It’s like he returned to the boy he used to be, emotional and driven by his thoughts in all the wrong ways. Memories of a time he would rather forget in order to forge this new path forced him back right at the beginning. He could only imagine how hurt and angry you would truly be if you found out in just how much danger he was truly putting himself up to every night. What he could imagine, was the true disappointment you would then face him with. With other people, he could do as he pleased, be everything he wanted to be when you were not around, hiding behind someone he was not, but with you?

With you, he felt a sense of vulnerability; he could confide in you, and you would listen, try to comfort him, help him, and reassure him with sweet, shooting sweet nothings. You were like a rock, a pillar that he felt the need to rest upon, and it pained him just as much as it did you to push you away to keep you safe. The fear he felt at the thought of losing you to his foolishness was one he only felt once when he had lost his parents.

Women, he hated to admit, were kind of a mystery for him. He wasn’t well-versed in the art of love or such. The only time he thought himself somewhat in love was with a thrill-chasing street racer named Dorothy, better called Dex, which he had befriended during one of his summers back home from the boarding school you two attended. If he considered himself reckless now, he must have been a wild animal at seventeen when he would sneak out of the Wayne Tower with the first prototype of the bat mobile, racing strangers in the middle of the night, getting stopped by the cops as they pried upon young and reckless teenagers by hiding on a side road or in an alley, waiting for late-night joyriders breaking the speed limit….like him.

It was the first time he had come in such serious and close contact with a woman his age who wasn’t you.

Dex felt like a new adventure he was embarking on, especially during a time when he had begun to question himself about what he truly wanted in life, growing restless about his own reclusive behaviour. She was like a breath of fresh air, exactly like those fast and rushing drives he took about town. A summer he would remember well, even years down the line. A summer that he spent being the wild young man men his age would be, while you went on a leisure vacation about the Amalfi Coast with some other classmates you shared in common.

Dex was everything you were not, and you were everything Dex wasn’t, but he couldn’t lie and say he had not often tried to find you in Dex.

She was wild and reckless, just like he had been, and yet he tried at times to find your strictness and rationality in her. Dex brought out in him the thrill he had been seeking, the one he supposed every seventeen-year-old boy sought in the opposite sex, but his mind told him when to stop and not venture into those bad situations Dex eventually found herself, his mind doing so because you were not there to do so.

He spent his days on the phone with you, which were your nights because of the time difference, and his nights with Dex and their escapades with the group of people, mostly Dex’s friends, planned out for the night.

When you returned in September, practically glowing from the days spent under the warm sun of the Italian coast and asked about how he had spent his summer, he didn’t tell you about Dex or his newfound addiction to racing. Of course, minus those details, you told him he would have had more fun if he had just come with you all, to which he said he would next time….which he didn’t, but he had come to the Christmas party that was thrown that winter to compensate for knowing he would have to decline your offer again when you would later ask. Had it not been for you, he would have spent the entirety of it all standing awkwardly in an abandoned corner of the room.

He had felt foolish, embarrassed, with cheeks flushing a deep crimson, as you danced with him, a red Santa hat on his head, and you dressed as one of Santa’s helpers, just….a slightly more provocative helper. He averted the sight before him many times that night, usually by craning his head to the side or letting his eyes fall anywhere but your more than revealing cleavage…which he hated to admit he had thought about too many times the following days. Could he be blamed? He was a teenager engulfed in the flesh of youth. It wasn’t his fault you were practically all over him, and the fact that he had to carry you back to your room when you had gotten tipsy, complaining that your feet hurt because of the heels you wore, had not helped. He remembered the feel of your soft and warm skin against his shirt all too well, your soft snores that fanned his face as you slept the night away as he carried you, only after he had taken those darn heels off your feet. The Polaroid, taken by a girl he didn’t know, but he supposed you did, commemorated the night with its overall existence, immortalising the night into living memorabilia, instead of just his memory.

He thought he liked Dex, she made him feel speechless in her presence, like he didn’t know what to say, all his thoughts just vanishing, but you….everything he thought he felt for Dex just went with the wind when he first set his eyes on you again after so long.

He did not need this. He didn’t need old wounds and resurfacing emotions that would not help his vigilante work to resurface in the cold and passive man he had turned himself into.

Perhaps Vengeance didn’t….but as for Bruce, well….Bruce was another story.

Women liked him, and he liked them too, but over his early twenties, he never stayed too long to not form any attachments. The only constant one in his life had become you…

He didn’t want to admit it, but a part of him yearned for the comfort of your gentleness, which contrasted his cold and unwavering vigilante persona. It brought out in him a vulnerability he didn’t know he still possessed, one he hated feeling. He couldn’t allow himself any weakness, and you….you made him weak. He couldn’t afford to be weak, not when the worst time of the year was now upon him. In two days, it would be Halloween, and even though the news had predicted heavy rain, Bruce knew that a few drops of water would not stop the criminals from acting out or the streets from not being filled with people celebrating.

The nature of the city could not be stopped by anything, especially rain, which was why he needed to be out there, to fight against it and keep the innocent citizens wanting to only celebrate a fun and jolly holiday from getting in between the criminals’ plans and their own. 

He had thought about how to approach a possible reconciliation throughout the day after, though his mind shut everything down when he saw you on the TV beside Reál as you two walked out of the studio where the last debate between her and Mitchell had taken place in light of next week’s elections.

You smiled and waved at the cameras, who clamoured around you two to ask questions, to vulture deeper into the future that awaited this newfound coalition between the possible new Mayor of Gotham and the newest member of the City Council. Eloquently answering the questions as you went, you were able to evade them until you arrived at the car awaiting you before speeding off.

He had gone on his nightly patrol that night with an unusual sense of irrationality to him.

Robbery, theft, and assault were commonplace in the dark alleys of Gotham, yet that night, Bruce almost looked like he was seeking those things he hated most.

The next morning, the haze of the night had faded, but not the emotions he had carried from it. Tonight, more than ever, he needed ultimate concentration, and yet he almost found himself unable to do so. Frustrated by this, he spent most of the afternoon preparing for his patrol. Training, putting all he felt in the punches he delivered to the punching bag hanging in the Batcave. He had reduced his knuckles raw, almost frail to draw blood if he wanted, which he had to cover with bandages so as to not feel the discomfort of the sensitive skin rubbing against the leather of the gloves of his suit.

When he dipped his fingers in the black makeup he used to fill in the gaps that his mask could not, the coolness of the paste soothed his irritated skin, even as it stained him. As per routine, he went out first in incognito among the crowd dressed as the ‘Drifter’. The old, baggy and well-worn second-hand clothes he had thrifted came in hand when he wanted to blend among crowds, asserting the night, eyeing and studying his possible opponents. The clothes also hid the first layers of the bat suit he wore, the second layers, cape and mask, hiding in the backpack he carried on his back. He swerved the streets with his old bike, he obviously couldn’t go out and about with the Batmobile if he didn’t want to be recognised. He only ever took the car out when he truly needed it, for big cases, which had yet to come and had given him much time to work on it and its potency.

He had just turned one of the streets near Wayne Tower, speeding through the traffic, wanting to get out of the rich and industrial neighbour to head towards Dowton Island, the part of Gotham where criminals ran rampant since it included places like the Iceberg Lounge, under the watchful eyes of the Penguin and his associates, when he approached a sidewalk littered with cars and people hanging around the door of one those central stylised townhouses, surely a get together for the holiday.

He stopped on the side, watching the scene unfold before him, hiding behind a car on the opposite side of the road where the people were making their way inside the house. Fancy dresses, well-pressed suits, gelled and combed hair, shimmering jewels, polished shoes, masks of all kinds. Animals, doll-like ones, some painted and patterned like that Venetian carnival one you once brought him back to your trip there —it all screamed opulence.

Or shamelessness thought Bruce. They care not but for themselves, selfish people who have too much money to their name that they can count on or know what to do with. He watched from behind his full-face visor as another car came through the corner to stop just in front of the steps of the house. A man nearby brightened up at the sight and rushed towards the door of the vintage vehicle to help whoever was inside out of it. A feminine, manicured and well-cared-for hand, adorned by rings and bracelets, reaches out to grab into the one the man has just offered, closing its fingers around it.

Bruce’s eyes track the woman who steps out of the car; her back turned to him, but even with the fancy dress and all, he could still recognise you from anywhere.

Just like the others, it seems like you, too, had taken to dressing to what appeared to be the theme for this party. A black, trimmed, velvet dress, covered with a medieval cape, adorned with a shining, feathered, high collar. The mask, feathered and well-adorned, hid a good part of your face and gave away the animal you were dressed as. A raven, he supposed you fit the part, looking sumptuous and imperial like the bird, the train of your dress, feathered like the bird's tail, created a perfect illusion as you walked. In your gothic costume, you fit right into the art deco modernized stylization of the city. He wondered if the dress was part of some high-brand old collection, perhaps from the 1920s, they had lent you for the occasion. 

Like a doll, he mused, unconsciously, a sense of admiration in his thought

You always had an affinity for such social events, despite how you often complain about how many you were invited to. You were the social butterfly, even when you too were younger, the one frequently pulling him alongside you to wherever you went and looking at you, all dolled up. It’s not that you enjoyed being around people, but you had been conditioned since an early age into understanding that being part of an inner circle befitting your station would do you more good than bad. Your mother was a known socialite back in her younger days,just as his mother had been to a degree, and your father took more good from it than anyone expected, especially during his political campaigns.

Your mother had been a much-needed asset in gaining much of his popularity, reaching places of interest for your father’s cause, which, despite his intellect, he found himself a stranger to. She rouped people with her charms and wit, endearing them to her friendliness, especially other politicians and regimental wives. It seemed that for you, the apple had not fallen far from the tree. You implemented the best traits of both your parents on occasions like these, but even Bruce knew that you possessed both of their bad ones, too, just like he did. He sometimes asked himself where he got his temper, not remembering either of his parents’ possessing one themselves. Or maybe he had just been too young to take notice.

As if sensing being looked at, you turned to look in the direction you felt those eyes glaring holes at the back of your head, unknowingly meeting his, hidden away by the visor of his helmet.

He watched your brows furrow in confusion at who he could possibly be and for a man of his appearance to hang around such a neighbourhood when he did not seem to belong in it. Unknowingly to him, Bruce’s grip on the grips rubber of his bike’s handlebars. Your eyes narrow, slating as if to get a better look at him, for the stranger he presented himself as, to understand if you knew him, almost intrusively analysing him with your eyes as if you could look beyond and under his disguise. But before you could do more than that, the hand of the man who had helped you out of your vehicle, slithering on the small of your back, startled you out of your contemplative state.

Good, old Johnny, your date for tonight. Your friendship went back to your days in boarding school, and though for you he was just a friend, you always knew he wanted something more from you. He wasn’t exactly subtle in that regard, with his long glances and touchy hands. Too touchy and intrusive for your tastes. Bruce had noticed too how you didn’t seem all that reciprocant to his touch, the skin under your dress almost flinching out of reflex from the contact of his hand.

Your attention turned back to Johhny, leaving Bruce, not that you knew it was him, behind your forgotten thoughts. You had a dinner to attend, after all.

You smile politely to Johnny, who, in turn, beams down at you as you two begin to walk to the door of the house, his hand almost leading you there.

The display before him left Bruce completely blank, his insides churning, a burning ache filling his chest. When had he begun to wish to be the one at your side, the one whose hand was the one guiding you around as it rested around your waist? Was this mere jealousy? And, even so, he was confused about what he was jealous of. Was it just his protectiveness? He had often taken a sort of watchful eye over you; maybe it was his worry pulling at him to shove Johnny out of the way like he used to when they were young boys. He did know the man, after all, as he often drolled over you and trailed like a lost puppy whenever you two went, back in the days. Johnny knew very well to keep his act when Bruce was around, relegating to watching from afar rather than approaching.  Perhaps it was an understanding between men; they did seem to understand each other better than others after all, but Johnny had come to understand very well what Bruce’s eyes were implying most times. His dislike, his distaste, his lack of composure and demeanour were truly frightening in his eyes. Which was why he did not want you anywhere near him, wanting to protect you from men like Johnny as much as he could.

And now, busier than ever before, with his mind and thoughts divided between his personal and private life, it seemed that Johnny thought that with his noticeable absence, he could finally rise to the challenge.

Craven vermin.

Not being able to bear the sight any longer and what it fueled in him, Bruce lifts his feet off the ground and speeds off in the night. Going to dispel his emotions in the only way he knew.

Beating criminals.

He had found his perfect scapegoat in a gang that had seemed to round a lone stranger who had gotten off on the deserted platform of the train station. Eight skull-faced gang members against a defenceless man, and for what? The thrill of the chase? The want of fear in their opponent? Or was it because he had been an easy target? After all, how could one defend himself against eight men, clearly stronger than him in physics?

He had stopped them just before they could have caused more than necessary damage, for it seemed that whatever they were doing was a sort of initiation ritual for the newest and youngest entry of their group, who, in all fairness, did not seem too thrilled to be there or be part of what was going down, as he fled the scene after he had put the other seven down.

His movements had been fast and brutal, leaving no room for counterattacks or opposition from his opponents. He had snapped the arm of one, who presented himself as the leader of this organised fiasco and tased the neck of another, a scene he would revisit once he returned to the cave and pulled his recording contact lenses out of his eyes. The scene, he was sure, would be haunting as he watched the man fall and convulse on the ground. He had taken hits, too, but through his rage, he had bounced back every time. His terrifying skill kept the impacts of them from landing as if almost on auto-pilot, he proceeded to break off the others surrounding him like a machine.

Only when the station fell into the silence of the night once more, broken only by the gentle pitter patter of the rain, had his eye noticed the reflection on the wet ground. The bat signal, shining bright, in the sky.

Bruce looked up, wondering just how long it's been there, having lost all composure and awareness of his surroundings.

He could truly get in a rage when he wanted, couldn’t he? He just didn’t want to admit what it was that caused it.

He had met with Gordon, in the abandoned and unfinished skyscraper they utilised as their secret hideout, where he had been told the unimaginable.

Mitchell was dead.

He had been let in in the study where the body was found only because Gordon had made it so after he faced opposition from Officer Martinez. Were it for the line of cops filling the hall of the now gone Mayor’s manor, he surely would not have gotten that far within the first step of his boots near the property.

It had been a gruesome sight. Mitchell’s head was wrapped in grey duct tape, with red, angry letters spelling out ‘NO MORE LIES’. The sight entirely reminded him of what you had told him in your last conversation about them. His head had been mashed, but most of the blood he had lost had come from his severed thumb, cut when he was still alive, seeing the ecchymosis that had formed around the wound. Whoever the Killer was, they had made quite the showcase in sending the message they wanted.

Corruption and lies, corruption that had yet to be revealed as to what kind. No one believed Mitchell to be an innocent man, after all, no one had such a rise to power ethically and conventionally. There was something about Mitchell that both you and Bruce had suspected not to be genuine. It always rubbed you the wrong way how he had seemingly just been able to take over the city in such an easy way after your father was killed. Perhaps it was the bitterness in you, not yet over how your father could just be replaced by such an incompetent man, which you were right about, seeing as to how he had driven Gotham into becoming a cesspool in less than twenty years and three mandates as Mayor of the city. Bruce did often wonder just why he kept on being elected, again, and again, and again.

But to be deserving of such death? It made Bruce wonder as to what the killer was aware of that others were not.

Perhaps, he’ll get to find out soon.

AN: Finally entering the film's territory. We'll be following the events of the movie from now on, just prolonging them slightly to tell more of the story, but the storyline will remain the same. A week of pure chaos to write, yeppi. Also, I recently read the novella called 'Before the Batman: An Original Movie Novel' which is kind of supposed to be a companion prequel novel to the movie. It is not canon, Matt Reeves has not written or said that what's written in the story is canon to his universe, and even though, I, myself did not find it to be a particularly compelling read, I wanted to incorporate certain aspects I liked about it in this story. If you're not familiar with the events of the novel, the Batman Wiki has pages for every character and event in it, so be sure to check it out if you want to know more about what I talk about in the first half of the chapter.

[waywardxwords]

Hallelujah

Summary: While cleaning up after dinner one night, you hear the most beautiful sound coming from the oldest Winchester's room. You can't stop yourself from moving towards the sound. Dean doesn't enjoy singing in front of people, but he might just make you the exception. Word Count: ~1.2k Warnings: Fluff - lots of fluff

A/N: I saw this video the other day and I just couldn't help myself. Jensen starts around 3:23 mark.

While it wasn’t the first time you heard Dean Winchester’s voice echo off of the walls of the bunker, it was the first time you heard him sing this folk rock classic. The verse traveled to your ears, just barely peeking through the sound of the running water from the sink faucet as you washed the dishes from dinner. 

“Well, maybe there’s a God above,” he started softly at first. So softly, your hand reached up and turned off the water. You stilled your body so your ears could focus on the sound. “As for me, all I’ve learned from love is how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya.”

Dean would never sing in front of you, besides the random jam out sessions in the Impala on the way to a hunt. But those were mostly songs from the likes of AC/DC, or Zeppelin…and there was that one Survivor song he loved. Never like this; never with such emotion. 

“But it’s not a crime that you’re here tonight, it’s not somebody who’s seen the light,” his voice began to travel as his words became clearer. There was no way he knew you could hear him; he wouldn’t have continued if he knew. While Dean was, well, Dean–he had less confidence about himself than he would lead others to believe, but you saw through that. 

“No, it’s a cold and broken Hallelujah,” he belted. “Hallelujah, Hallelujah.” The sound of his voice sent a shiver through your body to your core. You couldn’t help your feet as they moved towards the sound of his voice. You grabbed at the dish towel that hung on the rack of the oven and dried your hands on your way. You didn’t have to go very far, Dean’s door to his bedroom was open as he gently sang the remainder of the chorus. 

As you stood in his doorway, you saw him through blurry eyes. You hadn’t realized before that moment that you had tears in your eyes, but the conviction of his voice—full of pain, but also peace—was overwhelming. 

“Shit,” he breathed as he saw you. He moved to put the gun down that he was cleaning before you startled him. His brows knitted together in concern when he saw your face. “Hey, you okay? What happened?” In two long strides, he was in front of you. His hands gripped just above your elbows. Through the tears pooled in your eyes, you watched his green gaze study you. 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m fine,” you quickly moved your hands to swipe away any droplets that threatened to fall. “Your voice…”

You watched the reddish pink hue start under his stubble on his neck and climb up to his cheeks. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone could hear me…” he removed his hands from your arms and you noticed the room suddenly felt cooler without his touch. He brought a hand up to pull at the back of his neck, clearly a little embarrassed. 

“No, Dean,” you reached for his arm before he could turn back from you; your fingers delicately on his forearm. “Your voice is beautiful.” The words fell in a whisper from your lips. His eyes watched you, and that’s when you noticed all of the feelings Dean could sing, but couldn’t say. “Would you…would you sing for me again?” 

“Oh, darlin’,” he chuckled and ducked his head to glance at his boots. “I don’t think I can do that…I don’t sing if I have an audience.” His eyes found yours again. You nodded once, not willing to push it if he wasn’t comfortable. 

“Well, just know,” you started softly. “You have such an incredible voice. It was…comforting.” It took you a moment to find the right word. 

“Thanks,” he chuckled gently again. You turned from your place in his doorway and headed back to the kitchen, hopeful that it wouldn’t be the last time you heard his beautiful voice. 

The darkness was overwhelming. Even in your sleep, you knew you were dreaming but as hard as you tried, you couldn’t wake yourself up. It felt as though the walls were closing in on you as you fell into the darkness. A whimper fell from your lips involuntarily as you tumbled down, down, down…into an abyss of nothingness. You didn’t know what you were running from, but your heart thudded quickly against your rib cage—so quickly that you thought it might break out. 

You couldn’t be sure, but you thought you felt a gentle touch on your bare arm just below the sleeve of your short sleeve cotton t-shirt. And then you heard a low hum—so low you thought you imagined it. 

“Now I’ve heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord,” the words sounded far away at first, but as you came to you realized they were just beside you. “But you don’t really care for music, do ya?” With your eyes still closed, you felt peace fall over you as the voice calmed you. “It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth, the minor falls, the major lifts. The baffled king composing Hallelujah.” 

As the chorus began, you blinked your eyes. As you squinted against the darkness of the room, you saw Dean’s green gaze staring back at you. “Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah…” his whispered singing trailed off as he reached his hand up to brush a dampened strand of hair off of your forehead. 

When he looked back so his eyes found yours once more, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Dean?” You asked as you blinked the sleep away and focused in on the way his eyes examined your features. It was then that you realized he had positioned his body just next to yours, his face only a few inches away. 

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart,” he said gently. “You had a bad dream.”

A pause of silence fell between you before you realized something. “I thought you said you don’t sing for an audience?” You eyed him conspicuously, which elicited a breathy chuckle from him. 

“Yeah, well, you were thrashin’ and weren’t waking up when I tried talking, so…” his voice trailed again. 

Your eyes darted between his once more. In the glow from the light of the hallway you noticed the way lines crinkled at the corners, and how tiny freckles you had never noticed before dotted around his nose and his cheekbones. It was almost as if you were truly seeing him for the first time.

“Thank you,” was all you knew to breathe. Your eyes fell closed and a gentle hum rumbled from your throat as you felt the pads of Dean’s fingers swipe at your hairline once more. 

Just as you opened them, he made eye contact with you once more–as if asking if this was alright. Your head managed the smallest nod before your eyes closed once more and felt Dean’s lips on yours, soft but purposeful. As he pulled away, all you could manage to say was, “Hallelujah…”, causing the green-eyed man to snort in laughter.

[oletus-writer]

Joseph NSFW alphabet please? 🙇‍♀️🙏

Sorry that this took a while

Joseph NSFW Aphabet

Warnings: nsfw

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

He’s a bit lazier, and will not do much more than lie beside you, brush your hair from your face, and languidly express how important to you are, some parts being in french.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

What doesn’t he like about you? It’s less of a certain body part, but moreso the way you hold yourself, your presentation, and the air that you command when you step into the room. It’s the little things that photography can’t seem to capture, no matter how skilled the photographer (although he’d never admit it). He likes his own face, his own body, provided it doesn’t have the cracks that he finds ever-present in his matches.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He doesn’t have a lot of cum, and prefers to cum on your stomach and back. He kind of wants you to cum on his face and leave him to lick it off himself.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to experiment with a monster dildo and feel how it stretches him, how he barely manages to fit it in his mouth. He wants you to watch on coldly, as he rides the toy, and perhaps take a photo or two.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

He was raised in a wealthy household in the late 1700s, so it’s no sex before marriage for him. You’ll have to teach him everything.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

As he has no experience, he’s not well-versed in sex positions. He would enjoy the face-off position, as he gets to see the lovely expressions you’re making.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s not one to crack jokes in sex, and a lot of the ones he makes in general are pertaining to the French language.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes?)

His pubic hair is a nice colour of white-blond, and is more sparse and thin than anything. He spends some time grooming, as I refuse to acknowledge that back then they thought perfuming was equivalent to bathing. He’d prefer if you also trimmed your hair, as he wants you to take care of yourself.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? are they romantic?)

He’s a very intimate and romantic man, both in and out of sex. Expect body worship and praises, mainly in French.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcannon)

Since he was unable to have sex before marriage, he’s pretty skilled at masturbating to relieve stress or sexual frustrations. He had read some erotica when he was younger, so he enjoys edging himself to simulate the feeling of having sex.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Mirrored sex, photographed sex, hair pulling, praise… it’s not much of a list, and is pretty vanilla. There’s no knife kink, no blood kink, as he doesn’t take much pleasure in hurting survivors in matches, let alone his lover.

L = Location (favourite places to have sex)

While the bedroom is preferred, as it is safe, he would be lying if he said he didn’t fantasise fucking you in his darkroom. However, he would never do it, let alone suggest such thing, as there are many chemicals and photographs that are processing, and he’s afraid to knock something over or accidentally hurt you. Besides, he’s been told it smells bad in there.

M = Motivation (what turns them on?)

Put an arm around his waist, let your touch linger, call him pretty boy. He’s not so perverted that if you accidentally flash him or fall in a provocative situation that he would be turned on.

N = No (what turns them off?)

I’m not even going to bother to mention scat at this point (can you tell I hate it?), so Joseph’s turn-offs would include things along the lines of infidelity, such as cucking.

O = Oral (do they prefer giving or receiving? how skilled are they?)

He prefers receiving oral, as it is a bit of a blow to his pride when he’s on his knees pleasuring you while you pull his hair and call him a good slut. He’s rather average at giving oral - nothing too fancy, just the things that one might expect a beginner to do.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

He prefers to go slow, thrusting long and deep and kissing you every time he does, but he can’t deny that fucking your brains out isn’t an appealing idea.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies)

It’s a bit of a new concept, and he doesn’t really understand it. Why have a quickie when you could just do the whole thing? Not to mention the fact that one might be in a public place when doing such thing.

R = Risk (are they experimental? do they take risks?)

He’s willing to experiment, as long as it is within his comfort zone. He won’t cut corners when it comes to risks and puts your health before his sexual needs.

S = Stamina (how long do they last?)

Give the old man a break. Sure, his body is young, but he’s unable to last more than one round, whether it be him topping or bottoming.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them?)

He does not own toys but is welcome for them to be introduced into his sex life.

U = Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

Joseph enjoys teasing both you and himself. It spices things up, and it’s always a welcome sight when you’re begging for his cock with tears in your eyes.

V = Volume (how loud are they?)

He tries his best to suppress his moans at first, but he doesn’t manage for long. They’re effeminate and not too loud, a heavenly sound in an otherwise godless act.

W = Wild card (a random headcannon for the character)

While he’s not one for public or semi-public sex, he enjoys the feeling of doing something he shouldn’t. And while he’s not homophobic, he did grow up in a homophobic society, and would enjoy the adrenaline of kissing a guy.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

His dick is a bit on the smaller and thinner side, about 4 inches (10.2 cm).

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He has a bit low of a sex drive, as he is too old for this, and preoccupied with his photography and the matches for him to think about having sex.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He falls asleep rather quickly after giving you appropriate aftercare, as his body is rather weak and he gets tired quickly. He wishes to stay awake long enough for him to see your beauty while you rest, but he’s much too old for that.

[1moreff-creator]

Updated intro post and masterlist time!

Hello! I'm 1moreff-creator, or just FF, and I'm your

Local Min Jeung Kinnie

(Art from DRDT's Sleepy MV, Literature Girl Insane MV, CH1 EP6)

This is a technically multifandom (but generally DRDT-centric) blog, where I mostly do analysis posts and theories, though there's some variety around here. I go by they/them, I'm aro/ace, and I have a sideblog dedicated to the Milgram project, 1moremilgram-enjoyer!

Here's my post masterlist, which I moved away from Tumblr to avoid the 100 link per post limit I was going to run into eventually. Interests and post highlight reel under the cut.

Interests:

(AKA everything you're welcome to flood my askbox with :D)

-DRDT. Obviously.

-Project: Eden's Garden and Danganronpa: One Shot are the next two I post the most about.

-Mainline Danganronpa, DRA and SDRA2, DR (He)artless Deceit.

-Milgram. Though you should probably go to the sideblog for that :p

-FNAF. This thing grabbed hold of me in 2014 and will not let go. Probable cause of my likely insanity, given I'm well-versed in the lore.

-BNHA. The hundreds of thousands of words I've written for class 1-B are the reason for the "fanfic" the "ff" stands for in my name :)

-SCP. Been reading a whole lot of articles, they're very fun.

-Life Series SMP. My favorite perspective ever is Double Life Pearl, if you're curious. I always watch her perspective first :)

Smaller interests also include Slay the Princess, Disventure Camp, JJK, Class of 09 (mainly OG and Re-Up I don't really like Flipside), Reality Resort, Undertale/Deltarune, Gravity Falls, Steven Universe (haven't thought about this one in a while though), and more I'm probably forgetting.

Post Highlight Reel:

-DRDT Secret Masterpost. Generally a good idea to check this out before any of my more unhinged thoughts.

-DRDT CH2 PT Analysis. Probably my best post ever, 28k words of mental illness.

-Mai Akasaki Analysis. Really love this one. I consider it a great introduction to Mai's character, and contains some theories I love a lot.

Amendments: Arrow in her numeral (ft cider-est) (Rb) - Matching phone charms (ft wist-eri) (Rb) - Mai flower discovery by the-fox-in-the-socks (0% my post but pretty important)

-Literature Girl Insane Analysis Video. Two and a half hours of sheer insanity, though reading the Mai post first is recommended.

Amendments: Post CH2 PT2 Update (Corrigendum).

-About Page Text Analysis. (Ask). Shorter than the others, but I think it's important enough to be listed here.

Update: where did it go.

-DROS Prologue & CH1 Analysis. Similar to the DRDT CH2 Part 2 Analysis, also pretty good imo.

-DRDT reacts to "I fucked your mom last night." Behold, my most popular post ever.

-Eden!Culprit Levi!Accomplice Theory. Although this was proven wrong, I'm still pretty proud of it and consider it a good theory for the time.

-Proving MonoTVid canon with LGI. Objectively the best post I've ever made.

Recommended Reads

Smaller theories I still recommend you read, especially if you want a full understanding of my beliefs when it comes to DRDT.

-Recap Foil analysis. (Ask) My thoughts on the really good theory that the CH1 recap video shows off some important pairs of character foils.

-Thoughts on Min's secret. (Pre-CH2 PT2 Ask) A bit of Min analysis, and a basic theory on how exactly she pulled off her motive secret.

-"Mai Order" Analysis and observations on the CH2 PT1 QnA. (Rb) This one's just funny.

-Survivor Predictions. (Ask) Self-explanatory.

-Thoughts on Teruko’s plan to end the killing game. (Pre-CH2 Ep16 Ask) Holy shit I kinda got something right???

-The Deal with Whit, according to me. (Rb) I just like how this analysis came out :v

-Mai and The Murder on Orient Express. Noteworthy theory ig.