#except for the occasional murderous urges

[deadbaguette]

IM NOT SANE OR NORMAL ABT THIS😭💔 THIS IS SO GOOD OMG

I'M SOOO SANE. I'M SOOO NORMAL

[rowarn]

shadow entity!ghost cw: it/its prns for ghost, protective!ghost, implied vomiting from a hangover, sexual assault by third party, implied murder of said third party, unedited /: part: one

it was strangely easy to fall into the life of living with an unknown shadowy entity in your house. it wasn't particularly talkative or friendly -- it was sort of like living with a really creepy, introverted roommate. except occasionally it made the atmosphere feel 5x heavier around you. and there was always the looming threat that it would kill you.

your life outside your home continued on -- college, work, and the difficulty of making friends now that you lived in a new city. a bar is where you happened to meet a guy -- phillip, you recall his name. he was older than you but seemed quite polite.

after a night of drinking, you return to your home, buzzed and happy. you stumble into the house, brows furrowed as you tossed your shoes off before collapsing in a heap onto your couch. the springs creaked under your weight and you groaned at how uncomfortable it was. but you weren't going to be able to make it to the bed, you knew that for sure.

just as you were drifting off to sleep, that familiar, heavy feeling filled the room.

"ghost..." you sighed, "i'm drunk."

"drunk?" its deep, echoing voice came in response, sounding almost confused.

you were too out of it to consider that too much, instead simply explaining, "i had too much to drink."

it hummed in response, offering nothing further. you finally relaxed letting you sleep overtake you.

only to wake up with a hangover. you jumped tot your feet the moment your eyes opened, throwing yourself over the toilet bowl. sweat beaded on the back of your neck as that oppressive feeling washed over you.

"are you still drunk?" it asked, making you groan.

"i fucking wish," you spit into the toilet, cringing at the awful taste that still lingered on your tongue before sitting back and leaning against the wall, "this is what i get for drinking, i guess."

"drinking?" it asks, curiosity lacing its tone.

you hummed, "you know, alcohol," it remained silent and you raised a brow, "what? you didn't drink alcohol when you were alive? jeez, what century were you from?"

"i am alive," it responds easily.

you grunted, "right, right. you're not actually a ghost, that's right. so what--"

your phone obnoxiously ringing stopped you short. you stood, steadying yourself using the wall before you stumbled out into the living room to find the device. it was sitting on the floor, clearly having fallen there sometime while you slept.

when you answered it, the familiar voice from last night spoke -- asking you out on a date. as much as you wanted to say no because of the raging headache currently pounding behind your eyes, the desire for actual human connection after being away from your friends for so long urged you to agree.

so you did.

the date went surprisingly well, he was a gentleman and polite with a bit of a sense of humor that had you grinning through the entire dinner. he even paid for both your meals and by the time the two of you were walking out, you were more than willing to invite him over to your place.

"ah, but," you cleared your throat as you stood on your doorstep, suddenly remembering the problem inside, "i have a uh...roommate. it- he is a little odd. i-if you hear any...weird sounds, just ignore it. he's kind of flighty and shouldn't bother us otherwise."

"that's alright, sweetheart," phillip assured, offering you a kind smile as he followed you inside.

when you stepped in, you were relieved that you didn't feel ghost's presence.

"do you want a drink?" you ask, wandering towards the kitchen.

"sure, darlin'," he mumbled, looking around your place.

"have a seat if you'd like," you smile, disappearing into the kitchen.

as you grab a glass, a familiar, dark form takes its humanoid shape in the corner. you jump, almost dropping the object before you glare at it.

"ghost," you hiss, keeping your voice low so your guest doesn't hear you, "don't scare me like that." it remained silent, simply standing there. you could feel eyes burning into you, making the hairs rise on the back of your neck, "look, he's just gonna be here for a little while, okay? then he'll leave. just...don't do anything, alright?"

it remained silent, it's shadowy figure wriggling and shifting with varying shades of darkness. you tried not to stare too long -- staring into that murky black always had you seeing weird, scary things from within that disappeared the second you blinked.

"ghost," you urged it to answer you.

it didn't offer any response before vanishing. you sigh in relief but still feel apprehensive that it was going to do something to scare your guest. phillip was the first real, human connection you had since moving here and you weren't about to let that little shadowy shithead ruin it.

you plastered a smile on your face before greeting him back in the living room. phillip grins and thanks you for the water, taking a few sips before placing the glass on your table.

after a few moments, sitting up and making sure that ghost wasn't going to make an appearance, you settled into the couch and turned on the tv -- the otherwise deafening quiet of the house really stifled the atmosphere.

the energy between you and phillip grew and grew until you found yourself kissing him right there on the couch. as you pulled away to take a breath, he dove back in immediately, pushing you onto your back. you frowned, hands moving to his shoulders to push him back a little bit. he didn't mind, moving his lips down to your neck and to your neckline.

"h-hey, slow down, phillip," you mutter, pushing a little more forcefully at his shoulders.

"can't," he breathes, sounding positively drunk on you, "i've wanted you since i first laid eyes on you."

you roll your eyes, frowning when his fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, "hey-! i told you to stop!"

as soon as the words fell from your lips, the lights flickered dangerously. phillip didn't seem to notice but you knew immediately. your guests hands continued to wander and you kept trying to push him off to no avail.

"s-seriously, stop it," you cried, growing more nervous as the seconds passed.

how could a simple need for human connection turn out so rotten?

"don't want to," phillip huffs, "i know you want me too, baby."

"no!" you shriek.

then, all at once, something terrifyingly heavy fills the room. you know that sensation all too well -- it was the night you first saw ghost's shadowy form.

phillip paused, no doubt feeling that same dark feeling looming over the both of you, making it hard to breathe. he looks confused, "what the-?"

the floorboards creaked, loud, booming footsteps coming from some unknown place in the living room. it sounded right next to you yet across the room at the same time.

darkness surrounded the both of you, blocking out the living room completely until all you could see was darkness. somehow, your eyes were able to adjust, seeing phillip's petrified face, a strange, purple filter seemingly coloring the both of you within the shadow.

"close your eyes," it's voice sounded completely different now. though it didn't address you, you knew it was talking to you so you quickly did as you were told and slammed your eyelids shut.

your breathing was labored and loud as was phillips. he sounded terrified.

"what the fuck?!" he cried, a petrified kind of voice you'd only ever heard in movies.

then, a scream. an animalistic, horrified scream you didn't know could come from a human being. you squeezed your eyes shut tighter before slapping your hands over your ears to drown it out. but it was impossible, it was too loud -- too horrific to block out.

the scream was cut off, complete silence following that made your ears ring. you couldn't resist opening your eyes to see what had happened.

but there was nothing.

just the inky blackness of ghost's shadow. no sign of phillip to be seen.

slowly, the darkness dissipated, taking shape in that familiar, humanoid form. your living room came back into view and your eyes adjusted painfully to the sudden light.

"ghost?" you pant, finding it difficult to catch your breath after that. you look around frantically, "what was that? what did you do? where did he go?"

ghost didn't respond, shadowy form flickering in and out and sight before vanishing completely. you frowned, heart racing in your chest so painfully that it made your head pound.

you looked around, for any sign of the man you had brought home. but there wasn't a single sign he had ever even been there. it was silent in your home aside from the tv playing in the background.

you sunk into the cushions of the couch, unsure of anything that had just happened. you were starting to doubt that phillip had even been there to begin with.

but on the floor was a black scorch marked circle. right where ghost had stood.

[totheblood]

GLORY & GORE

CHAPTER ONE: NOW WE'RE IN THE RING

PAIRING: fwb!ellie williams x reader

SUMMARY: a week after you reunite with your estranged best friend, astrid, for the first time in three years, you are heartbroken to discover her sudden and brutal murder. as you dive deep into the world of sagewood university, you uncover astrid's ties to a shadowy society lurking within the institution's walls. in the midst of all of this, you cross paths with ellie, who you met on the very day you saw astrid again. as ellie helps you figure out what happened to your best friend, you're forced to wonder if everything with ellie is truly as it appears, and if trust can genuinely be given to anyone.

WARNINGS: 18+ SLIGHT SMUT mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x

A/N: i've been working on this one for a while... i hope you enjoy! please send asks, reblog, and reply to this post <;3

WORD COUNT: 6.3k

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched as you stepped onto Sagewood University’s campus for the first time since Astrid’s death. 

You spent the days following Astrid’s death curled up on your couch, unmoving. Your gaze was fixed on the ceiling as you let time pass by slowly, counting the clicks of the clock on your wall each second.

Your mom would check on you every now and then, before she had to leave for work or when she came back home. She would leave a plate of food on the coffee table near you, urging you to eat something, but you had no appetite. It was safe to say that you weren't taking Astrid's death well.

Suddenly, your phone chimed, a ringtone reserved for one person. 

ellie: You okay?

You picked up your phone, reading the message despite the LED lights burning your eyes. It was obvious to anyone that you weren't okay, so you declined to answer. You put your phone back on the table and stared at the same place on the ceiling. It was starting to look like a face, but you were almost sure you were hallucinating. 

The morning they found Astrid’s dead body sprawled out on a table in the library had started like a normal day for you. The sky was still dark when you woke up to your alarm and dragged yourself out of bed. You pulled on the grey hoodie that had been your staple all semester, paired with a red pair of sweatpants you had worn so much they were nearly falling apart. As you walked towards campus, the streets were silent except for the occasional chirping of birds and the crunch of gravel beneath your sneakers. But when you reached the library all seemed eerily quiet; the wide glass windows had been frosted with police tape and blocked by large, black police cars. Fear started to sink into your stomach as groups huddled together, their hushed voices filled with whimpers and tears.

“Hey, uh,” you tapped one on the shoulder, “what happened?”

“They found some girl dead,” she replied in a low voice, “Can you believe it?” 

“Do they know who it is?” you asked. Deep in your heart you already knew it was her. 

From the very first day you met Astrid, you knew you had found your person. It was like finding the other piece to a two-piece puzzle. Simple, but rare. In elementary school, she was your personal hero, unafraid to get her hands dirty—or bloody, for that matter—when that kid shoved you during recess. 

Middle school was weird for everyone, but less so for you because you had Astrid. You two invented your own secret language, a series of squiggles and lines that looked like chicken scratch to anyone else. Those notes you passed weren't just ink on paper; they were secret jokes, each scribble another knot in the thread that connected you two.

High school rolled around, and the stakes got higher, the emotions deeper. You realized you liked girls, and the moment you told Astrid, the air between you changed—but not in the way you feared. It was as if she picked up the weight of the situation and took it on as her own, lightening your load just by being there, just by listening. She didn't offer grand gestures or theatrical declarations of support; she didn't need to. Instead, she guided you, step-by-step, through the maze of coming out, as if it was the most natural path you could walk together.

And maybe it was. Because when you look back on everything, every scraped knee and every coded note, every whispered secret and every shared challenge, it all led back to a simple, undeniable truth: life was messy and confusing and downright hard sometimes—but less so with Astrid by your side.

College was supposed to be a fresh chapter, a new horizon where you and Astrid could explore the world as adults. But instead, it turned into a ripping of a page you never saw coming. Within the first week, something broke. Conversations turned into awkward exchanges, laughter gave way to silence, and the natural ease you'd always felt around her failed to exist. You guys just stopped clicking and after a big argument, you stopped hanging out altogether. She became someone you used to know, a piece of your past.

Time went by, and you got used to life without Astrid. Then, out of the blue, you got a text from her last week. She said she wanted to meet up.

She asked to meet at the campus coffee shop, Brain Brew, on a Tuesday morning. It was practically empty in there when you arrived, something that it almost never was. You came early, thinking you would need to find a seat, but now looking at all the empty chairs was less of a concern. 

Behind the bar stood a girl, with short auburn hair and freckles littered across her face, on her phone. When you approached, she straightened up, looking surprised to see you. You read the name on her nametag: Ellie. 

“Uh,” she looked you up and down briefly, “what can I get for you?” 

“What's good?” you asked, eyes scanning the expansive menu ranging from lavender latte's to plain black coffee. 

“Anything I make is good,” she shrugged, eyes still waiting for a response. 

“Then, just an iced vanilla latte,” you ordered, tapping your fingers on the counter. She tapped your order into the tablet in front of her and then stopped for a minute, looking you over again. 

“You go to Sagewood?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Yea,” your brows knit together, as you shifted uncomfortably in your place, “Why?”

“I just feel like I’ve seen you before,” she commented, the price of your latte lighting up on the screen in front of you, “6.74.”

Jesus fuck, you thought, this is why I don't come here. 

“It’s a big campus, you’ve probably just seen me around or something,” you tapped your card, looking back up at her, scanning her face to see if you remembered her from anywhere. Then it clicked, “Did you go to Weston Middle School?”

“Shit,” she breathed, shaking her head and laughing, “yea, for a year.”

“I remember you,” you laughed, a smile spread across your face, “you used to eat lunch alone every day and when I tried to sit next to you you told me to ‘Fuck off’.”

You saw her physically wince as she pulled your receipt out of the dispenser, “Fuck,” she shook her head again, closing her eyes painfully, “I’m sorry, that was not a good year for me.”

“I don't think 11 is a good year for anyone,” you joked back, taking your receipt from her, “It’s all good, don't worry about it.” 

She let out a little laugh, her cheeks growing a tinge darker as she scratched the back of her neck, “I’ll get that drink started for you,” she moved towards the espresso machine before stopping and turning back towards you, “Wait, can I get your name?” She paused for a moment, examining the expression on your face, “For the order.”

Smiling, you gave her your name, and stood at the end of the counter, waiting for your drink. Astrid was now five minutes late, and you just realized she may be standing you up. 

“Do you go to Sagewood?” you asked Ellie from across the espresso machine. She looked up at you over the machine, waiting for the espresso to brew. 

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “for psych.”

“Oh, you want to be a therapist?” you leaned your hands on the counter looking around the empty room. 

“Something like that,” she breathed out a laugh, eyes flicking up to you for a moment, “What are you doing?”

“Journalism,” you smiled, watching as she made your drink, “Do you think I could get your number?” It slipped out of your mouth before you could think. You watched as the smile from her face fell, the blood that was in her cheeks being replaced with pale skin.

“Oh, uh” she fumbled over her words almost dropping the cup of milk she was holding, “I don’t really date, it not my-”

“Oh, not like that,” you cut her off, trying to save yourself the embarrassment, “Just like as friends, I don’t really have that many around campus.” 

“Oh,” she breathed out a laugh, relief flooding her features, “Yeah, sure then. I’d love to be friends.”

When she handed you her drink she handed you her phone with the contacts app already open. You took your coffee and the phone, smiling slightly as you put your name and number in. 

“Here,” you giggled, “sorry if that was weird. I wasn’t like coming on to you or anything. I mean not that you aren’t attractive cause you are- But it’s also not like I’m not into girls, cause I am. Jesus fuck,” you whispered under your breath, “It’s just that I also... Don’t date,” you lied. 

You watched the permanent smirk on her face as you rambled off and she took her phone back and let out another breathy laugh. 

“Well, it’s not that you aren’t attractive either,” she rubbed the back of her neck, watching intently as you sipped your drink, “so if you wanted to like, I don’t know, hook up sometime, I would be down for that.” 

You practically choked on your latte when she said that, eyes wide as you tried to cover up your spluttering with a cough, “Um, yeah. That sounds cool, or whatever.” 

“Cool,” she pursed her lips, nodding before turning back to wipe the counter down, “I’ll text you.”

As if it was fate the bell rang behind you, signaling Astrid’s entrance. You turned to look at her and give her a once over. She looked a lot more frazzled since you last saw her, her blond hair was still as long and came past her shoulders, but it was frizzier as if she had just woken up. The circles under her eyes were more prominent, and when you smiled at her, she didn’t smile back. You didn’t want to approach her first, so you just waited until she came up to you and gave you a hint of a smile. 

“Should we sit?” She asked, her voice much raspier now as she looked around to the empty cafe, the tension in her body easing up.

“Sure,” you followed her lead as she led you to the back, away from any windows and farther away from the bar. You looked over to where Ellie was still working, wondering how loud you would need to shout for her to hear you. 

“What did you want to talk about?” you started, noticing her slightly anxious state as she took shallow breaths, “I mean, I missed you.”

“This isn’t about us,” her voice was cold when she spoke, the words hurting you more than you thought it would, “I just think you are the only person I can trust.”

“Okay,” you took a sip of your latte, nursing it in your hands, “do you need to tell me something?”

“No,” she took a deep breath, “Just that if something happens to me, it will have to be you to figure out who does it.” 

“Jesus,” you breathed out, leaning in to whisper back, “What the fuck have you gotten into, A?” 

She winced at the sound of her nickname, looking down at the table before looking around again at the still-empty cafe, “I should be fine,” she sighed, “but if I’m not, you will know what to do.”

“How the fuck would I know what to do?” you spoke a little louder, throwing your hands up dramatically as you leaned back, “I mean this is ridiculous, you completely blow me off freshman year and now you’re telling me I have to worry about someone who doesn’t even want to be my friend anymore?”

“You’re being melodramatic,” she blinked a few times, before sitting up straight, “I didn’t come here to fight you.” 

“No, you just came to make sure I’d be there whenever you got yourself into trouble,” your voice was harsh as you stood up from your seat abruptly, ready to leave. 

“Please, sit down,” she urged, looking up at you with her big round eyes.

“No, thanks,” you replied sarcastically, giving her a fake smile, “Go fuck yourself.”

Go fuck yourself. 

That was the last thing you ever told Astrid before she was murdered. 

The guilt followed you all the way back home that night in stunned silence. You were too shocked to even tell your professor you weren’t coming to class that day, missing a midterm. You knew you would make it up eventually, but now, all you could do was sit and stare and hope to wake up from whatever nightmare you were living. 

To make matters worse, as you sat on your bed, still dressed in your clothes from earlier a note was slipped under your door. A thick cream cardstock, with embossed trimmings covered in gold, and written delicately on the front in script, “Keep your mouth shut, or you’re next.”

At the time, you immediately threw it out, not thinking much of it. Your brain was stuffed with things you didn’t want to think about, flashes of your childhood coming back in brief intervals. The vision of the two of you at the carnival, faces stuffed with cotton candy, giggling as you boarded the Ferris Wheel for the first time on your own came back first. You remember going around with her three times until the sun went down and the houses began to look like stars in the sky. Lit up and far away.

Another memory flashed, her crying in your lap in the 8th grade. Jason Charnley rejected her when she asked him if they could go to the dance together. Innocently, you offered to go with her as you stroked her hair, the cries dying out as you cracked joke after joke. By the time she was supposed to go home, she had forgotten what she was even upset about. 

Then a memory of senior year when she showed up on your front step, a giant envelope addressed to her with a giant “Sagewood” on the front. She knew she was accepted from the moment she applied, but the confirmation was validation enough. What really surprised her was your admission, meaning you’d follow after her to college as you usually did.

Then a memory flashed from a week ago, an unknown number lit up your screen the night you met Astrid in the cafe. 

ellie: Hey, this is Ellie.

ellie: From Brain Brew.

you: wrong number

you: but what are you wearing, ellie?

ellie: Nvm.

you: stooooop come back

you: i was being annoying, i apologize

you: what are you doing rn?

ellie: Come find out. 

That’s how you found yourself pressed up against Ellie’s door, her knee wedged in between your legs, a small whimper falling from your lips that were wrapped up in Ellie’s. Ellie's lips were soft and full, her touch gentle, calloused hands gripping your clothed waist. You could feel her heart pounding in time with your own, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

Your hands, no longer under your own control, moved around her waist to pull her closer still, while her hands roamed over your back, exploring, caressing. Your breathing grew heavier as you felt her hands roam up your body

The kiss deepened as you explored each other’s mouths with your tongues. Her lips were insistent, demanding as if she couldn't get enough of you. You were overwhelmed by the taste of her, a mix of mint and coffee. She slipped her hands under your shirt, her hands traveling up your back, causing goosebumps to rise exclusively where she touched. Her hands found the clasp of your bra, undoing it, her mouth never leaving yours as you moaned into her mouth. Ellie’s hands, still under your shirt, moved to cup your tits in her hand, pushing you back against the door as she did so. 

She broke the kiss, her lips trailing down your jaw, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed and sloppy kisses on your skin. Her teeth nipped at the skin on your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine. Her hands began teasing your nipples with gentle squeezes and flicks. She was relishing in every sound you made, every way you squirmed underneath her touch. She could feel herself getting wet from the small sounds alone. Then you moaned out loud as Ellie's lips found their way to your neck, sucking and biting, marking you as hers, and she was gone completely.

Her hands moved lower, sliding down your sides, over the curve of your hips, until they reached the waistband of your pants. Before you knew it, her fingers slipped beneath the fabric, two fingers circling your clit as she worked you.

“Shit,” she whispered under her breath, “this is for me?” The sound of her fingers and your cunt made an obscene noise, her fingers now completely coated in you. Your hands fumbled with the buttons of Ellie's shirt, desperate to feel her skin against yours. You popped them off one by one, fingers faltering as she touched you, revealing her toned stomach, and you couldn't help but run your hands at the place right above her worn-out jeans, feeling the muscles twitch beneath your touch.

Ellie pulled back slightly, her eyes searching her face for any regret, any idea that you wanted to back out now. "You want this?" she whispered, her voice low and rough. You nodded, unable to form words as your body leaned into her.

----

That’s all you remembered that night, slipping out sometime before Ellie woke up. You assumed that since this was “strictly a hookup” she wouldn’t want to see you there in the morning. She did vaguely reference you sleeping over, but you didn’t want to overstay your welcome. 

So before the sun came up, you slipped from Ellie’s grip, slipping on the clothes you came in and doing the infamous walk of shame back to your dorm. This wasn’t a relationship, and the proactive version of yourself had to be reminded of that many times that week.

You began to think that if you maybe hadn’t gotten so wrapped up in Ellie the week after meeting with Astrid, you would have noticed something. Maybe even have been able to prevent her death. A part of you wanted to resent Ellie for that, but you knew at the end of the day you were trying to put the blame on anyone but yourself.

She reached out for help, but you denied her. 

The best friend you swore to protect, who swore to protect you was now dead, and you could have prevented it. Wallowing in it wasn’t helping much, but provided some emotion to feel other than numb. So back in your childhood home, your fingers lingered over Ellie’s contact, wondering if you should text her back. You didn’t have a plan to return back to school yet and you didn’t want to give her false hope.

Maybe she could fuck the grief out of you, or wrap her to-

you: as good as i can be

ellie: This sucks.

you: truer words have never been spoken

ellie: But hey, I need to talk to you. Do you know when you’ll be back on campus?

ellie: I’m not trying to like fuck you or anything cause that would be fucked up.

ellie: Ignore that last message. I’m just realizing now how weird that was. I'm sorry.

ellie: Anyways, I just need to talk to you about something, it’s serious. Don’t wanna text it to you.

you: i should be back soon, i don't know yet. 

ellie: Well, when you do come back, let me know.  

You stared at your phone, your fingers ghosting over Ellie’s message before deciding to reply with a thumbs up. Pathetic, but it was all you could muster as you finally sat up and ate the food your mom left for you. It was about time to return to your life, falling behind not being an option anymore.

You worked too hard to get into Sagewood in the first place to stop now, a year before you were set to graduate. Sagewood was on par with the Ivy League schools, bearing an acceptance rate of 9% and accepting students internationally. There were about a thousand on-campus clubs, sororities, and study groups. There were even rumored secret societies, but you were never one to believe in that sort of thing. People who graduated with a degree from Sagewood were set for life. There was no room to screw up three years of good grades okay grades. 

So that’s how you found yourself back on campus, tightly gripping the straps of your bag. As if snapped back into reality, the memories of that night flooded back. You just began to remember the note you threw away that threatened your life, as you made your way to your morning class, an unsettling feeling setting in your stomach. It almost felt as if you were being watched. 

As you sat in class, you shuffled in your seat as the kid a few rows in front of you turned to look at you. When he noticed you staring back he turned around quickly. The whole class you had your eyes trained on the back of his head, watching as he would occasionally look at you, notice you looking, and turn back around. You knew you were being paranoid when you first walked onto campus, but now you felt validated.

As the teacher dismissed the class, the kid who kept staring at you collected his things and attempted to leave the room quickly, but you wouldn’t let that happen. You rushed to meet him at the door and stood in front of him, a bitter look on your face. 

“You’ve got a staring problem,” you commented accusingly, hands folding across your chest.

“You’re just really,” he coughed, looking around as other people pushed past you to the exit, the professor included, “pretty. You’re pretty, that’s why I was staring.”

“I know I am,” you turned to shut the door behind the last person exiting the room, “but do you really think I’m that stupid? What gives?”

“I’m late for my clas-” he began to stumble out before you took another menacing step towards him. 

“You won’t make it there if you don’t tell me why the fuck you were staring at me,” you pointed a finger right in the center of his chest, making him gulp loudly. 

“It’s just,” he takes another step back, “you were friends with the dead girl.”

“The dead girl?” you spat back at him, your tone laced with venom, “Her name was Astrid, you dick.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He breathed out, “I’m just a true crime junkie, I’m intrigued about her case.”

“Her case?” you questioned him, taking a step back to make him feel more comfortable. To make him open up to you. 

“Just that they have no leads yet,” he scoffed, “which is weird if you ask me. No suspects yet she’s killed in a very public place?”

“That happens all the time,” you retorted, hands still crossed protectively across your chest.

“It’s not as common as you think,” he shrugged, “they haven’t questioned you yet?”

Now that he brought it up, the whole situation was weird. If they were trying hard to find out what happened to her, why weren’t you called in for questioning? It wasn’t like you had done it, but you did have a motive, and you had just come into contact with her again, shortly before her murder. If there was any person to question, it would be you, but yet here you were, untouched.

“No, they haven’t,” you mumbled back, your mind moving a million miles per minute. 

“See,” he smirked, “weird.”

“Wipe that stupid ass smile off your face,” you spat back, “she’s still dead, and just because you ‘like true crime’ doesn’t give you a right to talk about her. It’s not like you’re going to solve her murder.”

“I just might,” he stated simply.

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed, turning towards the door to leave now.

“Did you know she was part of a secret society?” he questioned, making you still for a moment.

You turned back around to face him, eyes squinted again, arms crossed firmly over your chest, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He let out a laugh, shaking his head, something sinister in the way he hung his head, “I do my research and I do it well.”

“You sound like a nutcase,” you spat again, trying to stop the anger from bubbling inside of you. It felt weird to talk about Astrid as if she was a mystery. In all the people in the world, you knew her the best. You knew each and every corner of her life, even when you weren’t speaking. But now, as you stood here, you weren’t sure you ever knew her at all. 

“They are called Oculus Noctis,” he shrugged again, standing up taller as if he had just won this fight, or whatever this was, “look them up, then come find me,” he walked closer to you now, making you want to cower away, but you didn’t. You planted your feet down, straightening your posture. Although he looked more confident now, you could tell he was still intimidated by you, “my name’s Corbin Nott. I run a podcast, look me up too.”

Smiling, he brushed past you leaving you standing alone in the room. You let out what felt like a deep breath you were holding for a while, your breath coming out shallow and shaky.  Your heart felt like it would beat out of your chest, and come out of your ears and nose as you bled out on the floor, but you just stayed unmoving taking deep breaths as you placed a hand over your chest to steady yourself. 

Your hands began to shake a little, trembling as you moved to sit down at one of the desks, a failed attempt at calming yourself. The breaths came quicker as it started to feel like you couldn’t breathe, like your heart was pumping blood into your lungs and you were drowning. Your vision blurred as you stared at the desk, which was now full of wet droplets. Were you crying? You lifted a shaky hand to wipe at your cheeks, and as you expected you felt your damp skin covered in tears. 

You were trying hard to collect yourself now, knowing that students from the next class would probably start flooding in and you wouldn’t be able to move. You would just sit at a front desk crying as whatever poor professor tried to teach. C’mon get it together, get it fucking together, you thought. What was it they said to do? 5 things you can see, 4 things you can touch, and the other three got lost on you. 

You looked around, and through teary eyes you could see a clock on the wall, ticking slower than usual. You could see the whiteboard in front of you, smugged with black dry-erase markers, and you could see the dark hardwood floors, clean and polished. You watched your hands and your tears on the desk and suddenly your breathing started to feel normal.

Thank god you did because by the time you were wiping your last tear from your eyes, the door to the classroom was swinging open and a student was walking in. You kept your head down, so they wouldn’t see your teary eyes and red nose, but that also stopped you from seeing them. So when the person called your name out, you had to look up, only to see…

“Ellie,” you mumbled, watching the smile on her face drop as her eyes scanned your face. Gripping her backpack straps she walked closer to you slowly, crouching down in front of the desk you were sitting at. Her green eyes darted from your eyes to your nose, to your lips, and to the desk, clearly wet.

“Hey,” she whispered, “are you okay?” She reluctantly reached a hand out to wipe at your face, unsure if you were okay with being touched or if you even liked to be comforted. She wiped a tear away from your cheek, her calloused thumb rubbing your cheek gently, “What happened?”

“I-I’m fine,” you stuttered out, closing your eyes at the skin-to-skin contact, “Still upset I guess,” you let out a shaky laugh, hoping to see a small smile on Ellie’s face as you opened your eye, but she just looked worried. Her brow wrinkled a bit, and it looked as if she was still searching for something in your eyes, but was coming up empty. She cleared her throat before looking away, retracting her hand from her face. 

“You’re not fine.” She grumbled back, standing up now, causing you to look up at her, “You shouldn’t be back here so soon.”

“What?” you joked, “Not excited to see me?”

She rolled her eyes playfully, a small blush tinted on her face as she nudged your shoulder lightly, “Not excited at all,” she commented sarcastically, making you crack a bigger smile, “c’mon let’s get out of here,” she motioned her head to the door, making you stand up shakily and stand in front of her. 

“Don’t you have class?” you asked, your own expression laced with worry. You watched as her face softened slightly at this, pursing her lips and looking you up and down. 

“I can skip it,” she shrugged, “plus, I wanted to talk to you.” 

You let out a small laugh, “God, you sound obsessed with me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed you, walking towards the door, pulling it open, and holding it for you, “C’mon, let’s go.”

Giving her a small smile you walked out with her, your hands placed firmly in your pockets. You stepped out onto the main grass of Sagewood, where people were sitting, laughing, as their lives moved on. The smell of the grass was strong, as you walked down the cobbled path, Ellie looking at you quickly before taking a deep breath. 

“So, I went by your room the day after your friend-” she started, 

“Astrid,” you practically whispered back.

‘Astrid,” she paused, “After she died,” she cleared her throat, “I’m so sorry by the way.”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to say that.”

“Sorry,” she cleared her throat, “Anyways, I went there the day after and you weren’t there, but there was this book on your desk.”

“What?” you stopped in your tracks looking at her, “There was no book on my desk when I got back.” 

“I know,” she sighed, looking around, “I took it,” she watched as your eyes widened and you took a step back.

“Why the fuck would you take something off my desk?” you questioned, anger written all over your face. Ellie shifted uncomfortably, chewing on her bottom lip as you questioned her.

“Because it was Astrid’s, and I thought,” her voice died out, and your wide eyes just pressed her on, your arms once again folding over your chest.  

“You thought what?” 

“I thought that it was evidence,” she breathed out, “I thought that if they found that in your room it would be pinned on you.”

“You think I killed her?” your voice was loud now, making people around you stop and stare. Ellie looked around uncomfortably, closing her eyes as she took another deep breath. 

“Of course not!” she whisper yelled back, “You were at mine the night she was murdered, but if they found that in your room, it would have been on you.”

“So, you stole it,’ you deadpanned, eyebrows raised and accusing, “Why do you even care if I go down for it? You barely know me.”

“Because believe it or not, you are one of my only friends,” she looked away, her arms crossing over her chest as if to protect herself, “Like ever. So forgive me if I didn’t want you to be framed for murder.”

Your expression softened, arms falling to your sides as you looked up at her and then back at the ground, “I appreciate that.” 

“You can have it back, obviously,” she mumbled, eyes trained on her own shoes as her arms uncrossed and her fingers began to play with each other, “I just… didn’t want you to get in trouble. It’s all gibberish anyways, just a bunch of words that don't make sense.”

That made your heart stop, as you blinked up at her. “What did you just say?” She looked up at you, shrugging as she rolled her eyes.

“The journal, it’s like just a bunch of random words, I tried to find out what language it was but I came up short,” she was still playing with her fingers, obviously nervous as she picked at her nails, “But, I understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore. It was a weird thing to do.”

“I still want to be your friend, Ellie,” you sighed, “I just need to see this journal, like now,” you watched as a small smile flashed across her face and he shoulders seemed to lose all their tension.

“Yeah, we could head over to my dorm right now,” she began walking, turning her head back to make sure you were following her, “I’m sorry agai-”

“Ellie, if you apologize again I’ll jump you,” you teased, smiling up at her as you walked side by side.

“Doesn’t sound like much of a threat,” she teased back, voice low as she let out a small laugh.

-

As you walked into Ellie’s dorm, you instantly became nervous again, your guilt creeping up the back of your neck. The night Astrid was killed, you were in bed with Ellie, laughing as she traced circles into your inner thigh. She talked about how much she hated her professors, working and Brain Brew, and how weird everyone on campus was. Well, everyone except for you. 

That night you stayed up and watched 30 Rock on Hulu until Ellie fell asleep, Ellie’s laughter gradually fading into soft snores. Her head found a resting spot on your shoulder, her rhythmic breaths warming your neck. You slipped out quietly, walking back to your dorm with a shit-eating grin on your face, and fell asleep unassuming. 

Your fingers traced the outline of Ellie’s desk, as you eyed Astrid’s journal that was sat in the center of it. It was covered in green felt, her name embossed on the front of it in gold letters. You pulled out the chair in front of the desk, sitting at it to begin reading the book. You paused for a moment, wondering if you even wanted to open it. Flipping open the front page, there was the language you created in middle school on every page. Pages and pages, the book was filled. When Astrid said it would be up to you to solve her murder, she meant it literally. 

On the front page was printed “Fepi Quslo Vurte Dabru” which translates to “My Oculus Noctis Journey.”

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, finger brushing over the letters on the page, feeling the imprint the pen made on the paper. 

“What?” Ellie stepped forward, looking over your shoulder at the book, “You know what this says?”

You sighed deeply, eyes trained on the words, “Yeah,” you turned to look up at her, “I do.”

“How?” her tone was more curious than shocked, sitting on her bed as she watched you. 

“It’s a language we created in middle school,” you closed the book, stuffing it in your bag as you turned to stare at Ellie. You watched as she looked at you in amazement, eyes wide and mouth hung open. 

“You created a fucking language?” she asked, laughing a little, “Jesus, you Sagewood students are crazy.”

“Ellie, you also go here,” you laughed, leaning your elbow on the desk, “Plus, Astrid mostly created it. She was smart like that.”

Ellie looked at you again, a small smile playing on her face, “You’re smart too, you know.”

“Not as smart as she was,” your smile turned to a sad one as you looked at your knees, not wanting to cry again.

“Hey,” Ellie said, voice low as she tried to get your attention. When you looked up, she smiled at you, eyes soft, “You're really fucking smart, just remember that.”

You gave her a forced smile, looking back down at your feet, “Thank you,” your voice came out cracked, “I needed that.”

“What did the first page say?” 

“My Oculus Noctis Journey,” you replied, shrugging. 

“Oh shit,” she laughed, “she was involved with those freaks?”

You sat up straight at this, scanning her face, “You know about them?” 

“Sadly,” she replied nonchalantly, “I don't know much about them except that they exist. They tried to recruit me, but I don't think they know that I know that it was them.”

“What? What do you mean?” you asked eagerly, words coming out quickly. 

“They recruit people on campus but they make it seem like they are just regular clubs,” she recounted, “Like they had a ‘coding club’ and at the club fair they had this code that they asked people to encrypt, it was extremely hard too. I did it and they sent me this weird email, asking me to do more shit. I just kind of didn't respond but traced the email to their own web service.”

“I thought that the secret society stuff was just like rumors.”

“Nope,” she popped her lips on the ‘p’, “Real shit. I just don't know what they exist for or anything.”

“I think I may have to figure that out.”

[solar-wing]

⚣ Therapist BatBro 👓

⚣👓 A/N → Therpist BatBro makes his debut. The second pic is honestly what I feel a therapy session in the Wayne family would look like. This is from another request I got from my previous account.

⚣👓 Summary → Your family isn't pleased with your new hobby or group of friends. But, somehow you've made it a business. Gotta respect the hustle at least.

⚣👓 Words → 2.3k

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 👓

⚣ ENJOY 👓

The way I see it, you're either a vigilante with the fam and all the villains just seem to like you for some reason and ask where you are during a battle OR you're not a vigilante and you volunteer at Arkham (which would be absolutely insane but it's Arkham so it breaks even) and everyone there is cool with you. Even the Joker (which won't fly well with Jason at all).

We're going to go with the second option for this one.

So, since Bruce was adamant about you not joining the family business as a vigilante since you were the youngest and he had an unyielding urge to protect you and your childhood innocence, you needed to find something to do in your free time.

What better than to volunteer at a crazy house for psychopathic murdering villains?

Of course, considering Arkham was filled mainly with criminals your father had put there along with your siblings, it probably wouldn’t be wise to do that since they’d obviously wouldn’t approve.

SO, you did it anyway and just didn't tell them.

BatBro contemplating...

Duke was the first to find out. Batman had supplies Arkham needed but since he was at work and Duke always took the day shift as everyone liked to joke, who better to drop it off than him? Imagine his surprise when he finds his baby bro in there serving ice cream to Mr. Freeze.

"Here ya go Fries, my man. I sprinkled some ice shavings on there to make it a little tangier for you..." You said handing him the cone.

"Ha ha ha, aren't you hilarious." Victor Fries replied with a genuine smile. As far as The Signal persona knew, he was only capable of smirking or mean-mugging the shit of people, with the exception of an occasional shivering face while mocking someone for how cold they were.

'Oh, they're not gonna believe this...' Duke thought, racing home right after. The way he left the institution, the guards almost thought there was a breakout or a fight going on. Nope, but there might be when he told everyone.

Of course, no one believed him at first, just staring at the dude as if he just said the craziest thing in the world like Bruce being an emotionally available parent.

When you came home that night acting cagey and weirder than normal, they figured something was going on and maybe you were at Arkham but for something completely different than what Duke thought it could be. Because, there would be no way Bruce Wayne’s, aka Batman, own son would ever even consider fraternizing with criminals, let alone his enemies. Right?

So, like any other sane, normal family who responded to distressing situations with maturity and rationality... they spied on you.

Damian, Tim, & Cass followed you the next day. Tim was understandably distraught but also curious how you could have managed to form a friendship with Gotham's criminally insane.

Like...THEY WERE INSANE. But, when he really thought about it, considering the family you came from...yeah, okay. He can see the correlation now.

Damian, however, refused to believe his little brother could be so stupid and dense. How could you form relations with the enemy like that? It was stupidity. Plain idiocy at its finest. It was betrayal!

On the other hand, it was a smart move looking from an assassin's point of view. You know the whole keep your friends close and enemies closer deal, but that was his thing. Not yours! So you'd be getting extra noogies and brotherly beatdowns when you got home. In the name of camaraderie and righting your careless decisions.

Cass thought it was fucking hilarious.

Upon their arrival and finding you trading riddle jokes with Riddler, their jaws all collectively dropped to the floor.

"Okay, okay okay..." You breathed, calming down from your wheezing laughter. "Riddle me this...I'm neither a man nor a woman but don't hurt my wittle feelings cause I'm still a person. I'll kick you and scream at you, even both during a tantrum. My ego's bigger than my head but shorter than my height, who am I?"

Riddler took a moment to think about it before the metaphorical lightbulb appeared above his head, "Boy Wonder!" He pointed.

"Which one?" You immediately responded.

"The fourth one!"

"Yes!"

Tim and Cass both had to think about it before they realized the clues in the riddle. They're eyes went wide when they realized who you were talking about, and turned to see Damian who looked ready to tear your head off with his teeth.

"He's in for it when he gets home..." He growled through his grinding teeth.

Damian pissed (Left) | Tim & Cass (Right)

Everyone was mildly concerned when they came home that night and asked them how everything went only for Damian's immediate response to be that he was going to get his revenge sketchbook.

Why Damian has a revenge sketchbook, no one knows. But, everyone was just the right amount unsettled by it.

That night at dinner there was a bit of a tense air as Damian had to be placed between both Bruce and Jason to keep him from lunging at you with his salad fork. Usually, you were used to Damian’s somewhat murderous tantrums, but this was on another level.

He almost looked like he would grow horns out of his head at any moment, which would actually be somewhat fitting. Considering he was the grandson of the Demon and all.

You also noticed how Tim and Cass kept weirdly staring at you. Neither of them said something, which was odd(well except maybe for Cass), but you just ignored it and ate your dinner.

That night, you put some of your old booby traps from when you first moved into the manor back into place. You needed some sort of reassurance and protection to help you sleep. At many points throughout the night, you shot out of bed and grabbed one of the many random weapons you had hidden around you when you thought you heard someone trying to sneak into your room.

Damian definitely tried but had learned his lesson after the last time he got caught in one of your traps. You took a lot of inspiration from movies like Home Alone and The Parent Trap.

The next day, Dick and Steph went to check out the mental institution insane asylum.

Steph also thought it was funny like Cass but in a more ironic type of way. She’d rooted for you to get your own vigilante identity and join the family business. So this was like the ultimate petty revenge and she was here for it.

But Dick just couldn't imagine you in a place like this. His sweet adorable baby brother, in this horrid mess? He was calling it, either blackmail or manipulation. A rude awakening was awaiting him around the corner.

They looked to see you in the middle of practicing a handshake with Bane.

"No Bane, fist bump, then the arm wiggle..." You said, showing him the move for the 4th time.

"Oh sorry buddy," He replied.

"No problem man, let's try again."

They watched you go through the whole routine, Steph taking a video on her phone while Dick looked in surprise and jealousy. How come you and him didn't have a handshake like that? Every little brother should want to have a cool handshake with their cool big brother! Was he not good enough?!

Steph laughing in petty (Left) | Dick breaking down (Right)

When Dick stormed into the manor later muttering about showing you a real handshake, Bruce only raised an eyebrow when Steph walked in looking thoroughly entertained like she just watched the funniest show of her life. It certainly felt like it.

That afternoon, Dick gave you the cold shoulder all day. He even canceled your weekly brother movie night, which shocked everyone, especially your dad. What could have been so bad that would cause Bruce’s first protege to treat his kid brother like this? The same kid who he’d absolutely lose it if they went to anyone other than him for advice or would pout if he didn’t get the first hug from him when in a room full of people.

Of course, he still cracked when you gave him the hurt puppy dog eyes (a trick you learned from Jason that he used to use on Bruce all the time when he was younger). Dick caved and you guys ended up watching a movie, though you were mildly concerned whenever your oldest brother paused the movie and took the time to highlight the friendship and connection between two characters, especially if they were siblings.

Something like a special code, an inside joke, or even maybe a HANDSHAKE. What does it say about a big brother if his little brother doesn’t want to have a cool special handshake with him?!

Subtle.

You just nodded along, making a mental note to avoid any family-oriented films for your next movie night.

But, after this incident, you’d fully managed to get Bruce’s attention. He knew that Dick out of all his children was usually the least likely to get irate over something that wasn’t serious. So the fact that he did, despite how unserious it may have seemed, but it was settled.

Something was going on and your dad, no…Batman was going to get to the bottom of it.

Jason decided to come along with your father, fully prepared to drag you out of the building by force if he had to. He even went as far as calling your boyfriend Conner Kent, aka Superboy, who he and Bruce had a love/hate relationship with because they couldn't really threaten the boy like they wanted to if he hurt you.

Well, Jason couldn’t at least.

Bruce had more than enough kryptonite in multiple storages across his warehouse and had no problem showing it to the half-Kryptonian as a warning.

Conner was more than a little peeved, try fucking pissed when he heard you'd been hanging out with supervillains. And he as well was ready to sling you over his shoulder if he had to. But, probably not in front of your dad who kept throwing pointed glares his way as they moved through the building.

When Batman showed up demanding to see where the volunteer by your name was, they quickly rushed to show him to your location. He couldn't fathom this. The mere thought that his youngest child, his sweet, innocent (on a good day) good-natured son, would be hanging around all his enemies, laughing with them like they were good ol pals?

He'd sooner believe Joker was going to therapy.

The shock of his lifetime was also waiting for him around the corner.

They came around to see you through a window sitting in an office room in business casual attire, holding a clipboard and writing down notes while Joker was laying on a couch with his cuffed hands resting on his chest, venting out his emotions.

"And sometimes, I do feel like I go a bit far. But, I can't take all the blame. I mean, everyone paints me as the villain, but Batsy plays into our little game just as much as I do. Why does he get painted as the hero and me as a crazy clown? Well, you know, besides the clown face, HAHAHA!" He vented, ending with his usual eerie cackle.

"Uh-huh, and how does that make you feel?" You asked while scribbling a few notes on your legal pad and adjusting the fake glasses on your face before turning around at the sound of the door opening.

You felt your heart drop in your stomach when you saw your father, brother, and boyfriend all staring at you with very unhappy looks.

"BATSY! Oh, do come in! We were just talking about you. I think it's about time you and I got some relationship counseling." Joker exclaimed.

Not one word was said while Conner grabbed you by your wrists, (gently of course because he's caring like that) and dragged you out of the room, Jason not too far behind, ready to tear you a new one. Batman held his shoulder, while Joker just watched in amusement, "Guess my hour's up."

You, Bruce, and Jason arguing (Left) | Joker enjoying the show (Right)

You were immediately brought home after getting an earful from Jason to which you offered him his own free session.

He agreed.

Bruce demands to know why you would even consider going there, socializing with those people.

"Well, seeing as how I can't join the family business, I figured I could do some good in some way. And villains or not, they've got good in them! Just you know, when they're not trying to murder people." You answered.

You were interrupted by your other siblings appearing before you felt an arm forcibly turn you around which Conner raised an annoyed eyebrow at, but he kept his mouth shut.

"What does Bane have that I don't? Am I not good enough as an older brother to have a handshake with?"

You sighed, "Is that why you were so upset the other day?! Ugh, would you like to create a special handshake with me, Dick?"

" Yes! Super secret too! You can't have any handshakes with anybody else!" He hugged you while you patted his back.

Brothers could be so needy sometimes.

You could see your boyfriend eyeing you both with the strangest look. In your defense, he had plenty of warning of how weird your family was.

Before things could calm down too much though, everyone heard a shrill voice screaming your name from the top of the staircase.

"Y/N!"

"Fuck..." You muttered under your breath, before turning to see Tim and Cass giving you nervous looks.

“You were there with Riddler, weren’t you?”

They could barely look you in the eye as you turned to see Damian standing on the banister, holding one of your slippers in his hand.

"Who's short now?!" 

Alfred went to get the first aid kit.

Damian with your slipper...

BONUS:

☀️ | Bat Family | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[y-rhywbeth2]

I know we sickos all love the tragic memory of Durge killing their parents as a child, but honestly - as a lover of interpreting Durge as a tragic eldricht horror cuckoo/changeling creature - my favourite memory is baby Durge playing tag with the other children in a "time before Bhaal".

They're being gentle with their friends, but the narration explicitly describes them as hunting and compares them to a predator. If Durge pities their child self the narration just goes: "Mayhaps that child was already a murderer." "Oh, sorry, did you think this was a happy memory?" asks the game before it points and laughs at your naivete.

You pair that with the little cuckoo killing their foster parents and it's very much like somebody took in a baby predator. Sure, it hasn't grown into its claws and aggression but then we reach the starting point of puberty and suddenly the once cuddly baby is a danger to everyone around it.

Oh, except that apparently there's a chance that Durge was already killing things as a baby!

We know they were aware of Sceleritas following them around when they were young, occasionally talking to them as he does in the dead family memory - even if he hadn't presented himself yet. Even if he doesn't always speak, did Durge grow up seeing him out of the corner of their eye?

The fun thing about Durge is that we get to make our own character out of the scraps we're given, so all of it is up to us to decide for our own characters/playthroughs.

I interpret Durge as being like the Bhaalspawn we meet in Throne of Bhaal, Gavid, and the 3.5e tieflings - they've always known they were different. Always had dark urges and whispers in their mind, coming from the essence in their blood.

Kids have accidents around them, pets go missing. Maybe they have black outs, maybe they're aware but can't stop (small children aren't exactly masters of impulse control). We know from a later memory that Durge feels self-hatred regarding their urges, so presumably they learnt enough to know this is wrong and feel guilt. Do they still feel pain and nausea if they resist? I'm going to assume for my own take that since they got the Urge back then, they did.

I wonder if their family ever took them to wizards and clerics, trying to find out if their child was cursed?

Then that family dies. Violently. Graphically. Another tragic accident taking place around the twitchy weird kid who sees monsters and hears voices.

If you play paladin then the Oathbreaker Knight tells you that you've broken your oath multiple times, so I assume that these disasters didn't stop happening.

And judging from the fact that they showed uncharacteristic compassion to a homeless person at the peak of their "I'm such an evil bastard villains like Elder Brains and the God of Tyranny are impressed" era, I think that Durge ended up homeless themselves at some point between losing their parents and joining the temple (I'm also pretty sure that's the period of their life the cannibalism memory happened in).

And then they "came of age" (I recall the age of majority being 15 in the Realms at some point, but can't find that anywhere so don't take my word for it) and Sceleritas introduces himself, and it's time for a family history lesson that explains everything and Orin gets a sibling she absolutely never wanted, ever - put that thing back in the ditch it came from, so help me.

[ilovewritingsm]

Omg please please pleaseeeeeee write something with Thomas Hewitt I’ve been rewatching tcm the beginning. Could it be something playing on how he was raised “a good Christian boy” other than ya know….. killing people and ya know Luda Mae always told him not to sin….

anyway ignore my weird brain but if ya can

First time posting my writing. I'm so nervous 😭

Tws!!: slightly suggestive, mentions of bulges, kidnapping, religion, mentions canablism and killing (obv), Tommy feeling guilty about being intimate

Thomas Hewitt Hc's:

• He had always followed the Bible and its teachings, Luda Mae had been teaching him about the Bible since the day she took him in.

• He never sinned (except canablism and murder...) he wouldn't dare lie to his family or disobey them. It's a sin!

• He didn't really experience many urges past puberty. He suppressed them as much as possible. Ignoring how his body begged his hand to just slip past the hem of his old tattered pants.

• that is ofcourse until he saw you.

• He tried his best to make sense of it just telling himself that it was nothing more than a small crush.

• But he knew that was a lie. He could hardly stop his staring at you. In his mind he was being bad for having these feelings.

• He felt so guilty for even thinking of kissing you. He'd have to get married first!

• once you guys finally began to date (he kidnapped you and your friends) his urges only grew stronger.

• Occasionally running a finger down your lips, upset you were still so scared of him. :(

• after a few months it'd became apparent that you weren't leaving anytime soon. What better to do than entertain him and try your best to gain him and his family's trust.

• small things like talking a little to him or maybe not flinching every time he touched you. He was ecstatic

• But ofcourse anytime you guys held hands or touched he felt a little guilty or like he was betraying his family :((

• Until the guilt got to him and he didn't touch you or hold hands. Of course you asked him about it. And he showed you the Bible pointing out certain verses while nervously playing with his hands

• He hesitantly gives slightly sloppy kisses through his mask and ... oh.. there's something hard pressing into your stomach...

• You thankfully understood him and started to explain that holding hands (and occasionally kissing) isn't bad without teling him his religion is wrong or trying to convince maybe confess that you like him too

• He feels comfortable and calms down asking a few questions (by writing them down). I mean, of course he's a little skeptical, this is what he's been taught his whole life. Once he fully understands he completely relaxes.

•He's so happy that you like him back even if it's probably just stock Holm syndrome he hugs you so tight that you swear you could almost hear your spine crack.

(Please let me know how I did! I wanted to make it a little fluffy with him getting comfortable being affectionate/ intimate with the reader I hope that's what you were asking me for 😭. I appreciate you sending in a ask!)

[nero-vanderwolf]

One fact about Yu Narukami: He is hopelessly and utterly in love with his best friend. 

It started as nothing more than a classroom crush, developed after helping him out of the trash. Despite being hurt, the guy had still thanked him, still amiled and introduced himself. Yosuke, he had said. As they walked to school together, Yu repeated the name in his head. Yosuke. 

It was really just a nosedive from there. After the murders started up, the two partnered up to try and solve the case. They had discovered the TV world together, and Yosuke had had to face his Shadow- the manifestation of all of his worst thoughts and feelings. 

And yet Yu hadn’t felt an ounce of desire to run, to abandon Yosuke. No, instead he had felt the inexplicable urge to hug him close, promise they’d stay friends even if that awful thing came back. They’d stay partners. 

Fast forward to now, early September, and Yu is trying not to freak out, because it just so happens that he’s sharing a goddamned futon with his best friend- the guy he definitely doesn’t just have a crush on anymore. 

He holds Yosuke close, praying his heartbeat doesn’t give away how he feels. Earlier, in the spur of the moment, he had pulled Yosuke into a hug outside. Of course, he’d played it off as trying to warm Yosuke up- he had forgotten his jacket again. 

But Yosuke had tried to hug him again after he pulled away. Maybe Yu was (and still is) reading too far into it, but it’s still nice to pretend. 

Now, of course, Yosuke has been cuddling him for the past ten minutes and hasn’t made a single move to pull away except to shift occasionally. He seems perfectly content to lie here, but Yu feels himself growing restless. He’s debating saying something into the darkness, just to see if Yosuke is still awake, but his partner beats him to it. 

“Did you know your eyes change colors sometimes?” 

Yu, admittedly, has to take a moment to process what Yosuke just said. Of all the things he expected to leave his partner’s mouth, this... wasn’t one of them. 

“Do they?” He replies. They’re both murmuring, as though exchanging secrets that they only want themselves and the heavens to hear. 

Yosuke nods against him, the movement pressing into his chest. He hugs Yosuke just a bit tighter. 

“Yeah. Different shades of grey. When you’re happy, they’re this really pretty light shade. When you’re upset, they get all dark. I think it’s kinda cute.” 

Wait. Waitwaitwaitwait pause. Did Yosuke just call him cute? Just... tossed the word out there. He isn’t even backtracking, but Yu feels like every cognitive function has come screeching to a halt. 

And yet, he’s still functioning just enough to tease Yosuke. He can’t pass up a perfectly good opportunity, after all. 

“Really? Do you give that much thought to the rest of me?” He asks as Yosuke shifts himself again. Unfortunate timing for Yosuke, perfect timing for Yu- he comes up to eye-level with Yu just in time for him to see the blush bloom on Yosuke’s cheeks. 

“Wh- hey! I’m trying to be nice here!” He says, but Yu know he isn’t really angry. Just flustered. It’s cute. 

Yu smiles, his best ‘I-love-you-partner’ grin that he saves specially for Yosuke, and it works like a charm. He huffs, looking anywhere but at Yu as he settled down back into his arms. 

They’re still at eye-level with each other, though, and even the darkness of the room can’t hide the way Yosuke’s gaze flicks to Yu’s lips. For a second, Yu forgets how to breathe like a human person. 

“...Your smile,” Yosuke finally provides. Yu tilts his head into the pillow. His... smile? 

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s just- You have a lot of smiles for people, partner. You have this, like, default smile that you give people you don’t know, but with Chie and Yukiko and everyone else, it’s... softer. And-” 

He stops talking, face now bright red. Yu goes to pull away, give him some space to breathe, but Yosuke’s hand flies up and clutches his shoulder. 

“...And, uh... Sometimes it feels like you have one for me, too. Just for me,” he finishes off with a mumble. Yu can’t help the smile that creeps up his face. The one specially reserved for Yosuke. His best ‘I-love-you-partner’ grin that always works like a charm. 

“Well, you’d be right. I do,” he says, his voice not much more than a whisper. He can’t bring himself to speak much louder than this, scared of breaking whatever spell has caused them to spill their hearts like this. 

Yosuke brings his gaze back to Yu’s face. His expression is unbelievably soft, and Yu allows himself to think, even for just a moment, that this expression is just for him, like his smile is just for Yosuke. 

“You’re doing it. The smile,” he mutters. Their faces are close- for a moment, Yu wonders what it’d be like to kiss him. 

He drags his mind out of the gutter just long enough to reply. “Of course I am. It’s you.” 

Yosuke looks like he’s struggling for words. He opens his mouth for a moment, then closes it again. 

“Can I, uh... Do something?” He finally asks, and Yu doesn’t waste a second in nodding. 

“Go ahead. I trust you, partner,” he answers easily, and he’d swear on his Persona that Yosuke seemed to blush even more at his response. 

And of all the things he expected Yosuke to do, he didn’t expect him to tilt forward, pressing their lips together in a kiss. 

It isn’t magical or heavenly, but it’s Yosuke, his partner and best friend since what feels like forever. It’s Yosuke, and that’s more than Yu could ever ask for. 

After what feels both too short and too long a time, Yu has to pull away. His lungs are burning, as though Yosuke stole all the oxygen out of them. He doesn’t go far though- just rests his forehead against Yosuke’s, both panting. 

“I love you, partner. A lot,” Yosuke whispers, and Yu feels like his air has been stolen once again. Nevertheless, he replies in earnest. 

“I love you too, partner. A lot.” 

YAAAYYYY OMFGH HSHSBBHBSHEJRJDNOWNNDHRJSNSHEJDEJBDJENDJENDJDNWNWJSBDJKSMWNEBFIDIEHSJSNWKNWOMSBXJZJENDJSNENDJSOWNNDIXNEJDNRNFISNWNSBEKFNJRKAKWKDODNEJSJWKEKDOEJJDJDNSJXNSJKAKALEOXJNRUXENEIIDOEKEJRIKFJCKRORIWOUQOFNFNFBJSHEHWNDKENKSNDKENSBOSHNEHSKSBDB

THE SOUYO GET TO KISS AAHEBEEVEVBEBSBSBSJJDNJ823$:'nsken&£{~!~££+¥'AISHHKMEB&$&&&!/?/?!$@9288/$&&/! I FUCKIGN LOVE SOUYO SOUYO IS MY LIFE

IM EATING THIS UP AND LICKING THE PLATE LEAVING NO CRUMBS THEY KISS AND THEY REALIZE THEY HAVE MUTUAL FEELINGS!!!!!!!! GRRRAGHHH!!!!!!! "I TRUST YOU PARTNER" WHAT IF I FUCKING EXPLODED INTO 18 PIECES AND YU TEASING HIM WHILE ALSO NKT KNOWING IF HE HAS MUTUAL FEELINGS KMFBFBDHDNJDJEN

THANK YOU FOR THE FOOD CLAIRE

[greyfics]

entry 8.5: a side-plot in which norm gets the fuck out.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

subject: norm maclean

fic type: smart relatable underdog side character gets spotlight,

word count: 2.85K

inspo: I really just need to see norm gtfo of that vault lol, I feel like he's got a fighting chance you know?

cw: spoilers for fallout season one  

summary: an overseer that is a brain in a vat. a series of experiments concealed behind the front of a subterranean utopia. the convenient relocation of the last of the people norm cared about- the last of the people questioning the fragile reign of the overseers, and what they might be hiding. norm desperately needs to leave, to find his sister- before he becomes just another one of bud's buds..

- °��. ✦ .•° -

"I suggest you wait it out in your father's pod, unless you want to starve to death- not much food in here, except the occasional large bug."

He is frozen. A small, quivering fist slowly slips down a firmly sealed door- were these vaults reinforced havens, or were they preemptive tombs?- the fist unfurls, as the wrist goes limp and the body connected numbs spare for the pitter patter of palpitations spawned from that very realisation.

His face is absent of blood, and despite the fact he has not yet fatalistically marched over to a cryogenic chamber to further bury himself in this pit, the numbness fades to a chill that kicks his feet into a frenzied pacing.

The robo-brain does a slow, awkward 180° twist, "All that is going to do for you is burn valuable energy that I simply don't have to give back to you, Norm. See, I'm sure you know this if you paid attention during your pristine pre-years education programme, but the human body requires-"

"Just shut up for a second." Is the flat-toned, snappy response Norm gives as he rubs his temples, the repetitive sensation a focal point to ground his shaking limbs, to ground a flurry of rarely seen irrational thoughts in that calculating mind.

Right now, it looks as though his only options are slamming himself against the door fruitlessly until he collapses from exhaustion and inevitably dies of dehydration or starvation, or to get into a pod on the other end of the room and pray that somehow, he is woken up- but what then? what would I even have to wake up to? Norm reflects upon the denizens of Vault 33- the way they force a smile and idle onwards so ignorantly; treating murderers as naughty houseguests, ignoring the slow dissimilation of their vault's security, it's vital resources and population becoming more sparse by the week. Even if there was hope brewing for a better future somewhere on the surface, there's no way that help would reach him down here.

Besides, he was just a problem for Vault 33- he always had been. He recalls the bitter comments about his unenthusiastic demeanour- the fearful confusion directed at his monotony- how lonely, how isolating a life down here is as an anomaly of the herd. With him removed from the equation, and Betty able to sleep at night thinking of him not as dead, but simply as in a rather permanent state of sleep, she would have no reason to wake him up- he who might expose the secrets they had desperately tried to keep locked away for so long. He was better left removed from the vault- left down here.

The reminder of his present predicament begins to suffocate him again, as his eyes flit between the walls and his breath picks up pace, the panic attack coming back for a dizzying second wave. Breathe. Breathe- I can't breathe. I'm going to die down here- this place is a big heaping metal tomb and I have to get out- Norm had never felt so overencumbered at the thought of being buried so deep beneath the surface before, but for the first time ever the urge to scratch his way to the surface was overriding in him the fear of the vultures circling above. He thinks about this- pauses his pacing entirely, and thinks some more. The buzz of an idea begins to spark slowly to fruition in Norm's mind.

It was true that it was better for Betty that he be kept somewhere outside of Vault 33- but maybe he'd even less of a threat left somewhere... else outside of 33? Maybe somewhere he could be more useful? He almost leaps from the exhilaration of having any kind of possible plan c at all in this situation- but his temperament keeps him still- and though his lips remain a flat, pursed line, a playful light dances behind the young genius' eyes, "Locking me in here won't stop Vault 33 from falling apart- it will just guarantee it. I'm your solution." He calmly declares- naturally, Bud's first move is to shut him down, but he is prepared for that, "Norman, you know I can't do that- and you really shouldn't worry about Vault 33 anymore, Betty has things completely-"

"-under control? If Betty had things under control, then how and why did a vault dweller manage to break into her office and trick you into letting them into Vault 31?" Bud stammers, juts to one side and then the other as he awkwardly attempts to give some justifiable explanation to Norm's question.

The bot stills, and lets a sigh out of its speakers, "There may be some... complications to the planned course of action- you being here being one of them, I should remind you- but I'm sure Betty will work through them and get everything back to normal soon enough. What good will it do us to send you to the surface? That would mean opening the vault doors, and risking the safety of everyone inside-" Norm shakes his head at this, takes a step towards the bot as he parries back, "-raiders managed to infiltrate our vault through 32 already, and the main vault door was opened twice after that. Do you really think one more time could hurt?"

The little brain in a pot makes an exasperated crying noise, and shakes itself as emphatically as it can, "But what would be the point in that, buddy, if we can just keep you tucked safely away in the most secure vault of the three down here, and... not open the door at all? None of our problems will be solved by another person leaving." A rare, triumphant grin floats onto Norm's face, and Bud makes a reflexive sharp shuffle backwards at the unnatural site, "If we don't replace our water filtration chip, then eventually Vault 33 runs out of water- and if the vault dwellers don't overthrow the overseer and leave by then? Everyone will die.-"

"Oh my god, why did he smile when he said tha-"

"-Just listen. Vault 32's supplies clearly ran out a long time ago, and evidently no-one from Vault 31 was gonna get up for a glass of water during their 200-year long power nap. By the look on Betty's face when she found out, I'm guessing there isn't a back-up." Bud is back to being completely still and silent now. Norm basks in a moment of captured quiet, takes a couple slow steps to steady the nervous shakes as he deployed as much charisma as he was capable, "You could just keep me in here, and let Betty send someone else to the surface for a replacement- but those people? The other dwellers? They're built for vault life- they fit in here-"

He wavers a little, a lump forming in his throat- but digresses, "I don't. I'm not strong- but I'm quick, and I'm smart... and, I might be a coward- or I was, once- but I'm beginning to realise this place is no better than whatever might be waiting up there. Nobody really knows what they're doing- not you, not Betty- maybe not even my dad. And I don't want to keep sitting around waiting to die when I could be doing something."- I could be helping Lucy, I should have- "So send me. I'll go find a replacement. I'll bring it back- and then neither you nor Betty will ever see me again. You'll be solving two problems with one stone."

The brain-in-a-vat that is Bud spends a painfully long time just sitting there and glowing, still taking in all that Norm had argued, malfunct in his dilemma between maintaining protocol or deviating from protocol for the sake of maintaining the protocol, honestly upset that he was having to do any deep deliberation at all regarding what he had been informed would be a rather simple and satisfying job. When he makes his decision, it comes with a disappointed, exasperated breath- and then a slow, clumsy spin once again, as he veers himself back into the door terminus access point.

With a blip and a hiss, the door that Norm had believed not too long ago to have sealed his fate begins to steadily unlock itself once again. He cries out with desperate relief and punches the air, before maintaining his composure and striding over to the door. He gets as close as he can, in case his thankfully not forever-friend decides to change his mind last minute. He hears the awful creaking of the vault door opening ahead, and dashes for it without even bothering to say goodbye to Bud- no time to spare, I need to leave now- Betty might not be so stupid. The door rolls to the left, his feet hardly make a sound as they dance across the metal grated platform to freedom-

And falter, pause, reverse a few steps when the figure of Betty Pearson is revealed but a few seconds later, arms crossed, already waiting for the door to roll back open.

Oh god, I think I'm having a heart attack. I think I might just die right now. I think that might be for the best.

...He does not die, and though he is grateful, he is also mildly disappointed that he still has to face Betty. She remains still, silent- her expression does not reveal much surprise at finding him here, but her stasis demands him to speak. Thinking of all she has done to this vault, and what little good she has done for it, he steels himself, and he glares back at her, his tone assertive as he speaks, "I'm going to the surface, and before you say anything-"

"Yes, you're right. You are going to the surface." She replies, steady and quiet,"I-" he is the one to stammer to a standstill this time, "I... am?" She steps towards him, and it takes all his will not to flinch away as a superficially endearing arm firmly braces around his shoulders, guiding him away from Vault 31, "Although at times I'm sure it seems as though I have... overlooked certain hardships that have come to challenge us all in this vault," -'overlooked' is an understatement, and a pretty ironic thing to do when your job title is overseer- "-but I've simply been thinking about the best options for our future. With our friends and family... rehomed, and our guests taken care of, I think it's time we begin dealing with some of our more long-term problems, too." The phrasing sends a chill across Norm's neck, which flows through the rest of his body as Betty guides him around a corner to bear witness to the remaining dwellers of 33, whooping and clapping in celebration for something he did not yet know.

Look closer. He notices the pause, the way they look past him to the overseer before they burst into their frenzied display- there are a couple eyebrows knitted upwards, the faintest flicker of a tear in the corner of an eye or a puffy redness where tears were wiped away to conceal the evidence of a negative emotion.

Some have slanted postures, clap a little slower- don't meet his gaze; they seem guilty of something, guilty of the relief that their body betrays.

Do they already know I'm leaving? How could they, unless-

"As I was telling everyone, Norm selflessly asked me for permission to go out onto the surface and solve our water chip crisis- of course, we do not often open our vault doors, and I felt too close to the matter to feel capable of making the decision myself- especially given the possibility that opening the vault door might threaten our friends in 31 too! So, I sent Norm to speak with Overseer Askins in Vault 31 to see whether he believes that this brave quest should be allowed. Of course, this affects all of us, too- but after talking it through with everyone, we've all agreed that however sad it will be to see you leave us- for a while, of course- it is definitely for the best."

A couple dwellers nod- some intentionally, some just in a lull of subconscious agreement even as their faces feign sadness. It stings to see how fast they were willing to get rid of him- it stings to be let go without a fight. The 'for a while' is simply salt in the wound; insulting to even pretend at this point that anyone in this cramped little gathering genuinely held any belief he would return.

"So!" The overseer pipes up chipperly once again, "Norm..."-not so enthusiastic-"Did you have a productive meeting with the Overseer? Did he give his consent to your proposed assignment?"

He could expose her right now, dismantle the order they had wrought horror and fear to maintain- but he knows he could not lead them, he knows how secretly glad they are to see him, of all people, sacrificed to the world above- he knows they would not survive up there, nor would they survive down here without a figurehead to fall behind, to hide them from reality. So he speaks a truth of kinds:

"The Overseer permitted my leave after I explained the importance of my departure, and how it was the best course of action." His tone lacks conviction in the vague, avoidant choice of words he spews, but a half-hearted cheer and a series of awkward hugs follows them anyway.

It's all just a big show. I'm starting to think I might be the only normal one here.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

A solemn march through the armoury and pharmacy to (ill)equip Norm for his journey through the wastes precedes a long, awkwardly still and quiet elevator ride towards the surface. Norm is the first to step out, bursting ahead into a fast stroll until he found himself standing at the precipice, waiting for the bridge to bring him to his salvation (or his doom). She gets into place-

and lingers, before she presses the button- they are alone now, and they are not so different, really- she just got better at hiding her discontent, "Norman." her voice is different to how he has ever heard it before- it was just... normal. When the calm and collected persona dropped away, she was the most human-sounding person he had yet encountered in his sheltered life. He turns, just his head- makes a point to pay attention, to show some enthusiasm- "You might think you're different, but... being different to most those folks down there is probably more of a good thing than not. You are extraordinary, never forget that. Even without everything that's happened, I think you were always going to be a problem for us. You've always been good at seeing things other people don't."

She pauses for a moment, deliberating on whether or not to bring something up- she chews her cheek, looks off to the side as she weighs up the power of her words- remembers her job, her duty, and the mask goes back on with a sympathetic smile, "We really do need that water chip- our vault has enough water to last about 150 more days, but after that, we'll be out. If you head north-east, ask around and you'll find a place that used to be a town called Shady Sands; it's not exactly close to here, but if it's any motivation I'd bet that's where your sister, Miss Maclean, will have headed too. When you get to Shady Sands, go directly east- I only know of a few vaults outside of ours, and I hear there's an old vault somewhere in the hills there- Vault 13. I'm sure they'll have a water chip to spare. Get the chip back to us, and you'll be a hero to this vault forever..." She certainly makes it sound appealing, but Norman knows better, "...but I'll never be allowed back inside." He finishes the sentence for her.

She hits the button, and Norm finds himself overcome with trembling uncertainty once again. Was he crazy? Just because he wasn't built for vault life didn't mean he was any more suited for the wastelands just beyond the door- the tomb unseals. Once again, a thought occurs to Norm at an inconvenient time- as he tentatively steps towards the radiating light that blinds him from above, he turns a final time to look at his now-former overseer with a quizzical expression, "Does... does Vault 32 not have a water filtration chip?"

Her smile doesn't change, but it takes a sinister feel as her next cheery words come out, tainted and barbed, "I did say our Vault has 150 days of water left- I'm afraid I can't speak for Vault 32, Overseer Harper would know more about that. Unfortunately, until we have a functioning filtration chip of our own, we won't be able to spare any of our own resources. But I'm sure everything will be just fine."

Norman began to run.

[smileydk]

The Town Weirdo

Pairing: Misfit!Wooyoung x Popular!Reader

Summary: Jung Wooyoung was a misfit. He didn't look different, he didn't dress too differently, he didn't act different, someone just decided that he didn't fit into the frame, and everyone hopped on the idea. Everyone except one, who didn’t want to judge before knowing both sides of a story.

cw/tw: bullying, harsh language, mental and physical abuse, domestic violence, fluffy, angst, mentions of rape and kidnapping

They acted as if he didn't existed. They all thought that maybe if they don't think about him, he'd disappear. He was like a bogger in the school's nose, like an eyelash in your eye. Simply there to annoy, never to do any good.

Even the adults treated him like nothing.

He was never called on in class, even if he raised his hand. He rarely ever got his tests back, grades would be shit because they didn't like him.

He hadn't done anything to be hated. He had always kept to himself, he'd always studied, he was (technically) a straight A-student, he'd never done anything to offend anyone.

He always wore an oversized, black hoodie, black, baggy cargo pants and a pair of purple air Jordans. Occasionally the hoodie would change color, but mostly he wore all black. He fit into the school's fashion perfectly.

Yet, for whatever reason, the football team decided that since everyone hated him, why not make his life fucking miserable? His life wasn't hard enough already, with everyone avioding him like the plague.

A young girl, no older than 5 years, had gone missing a few months ago. In such a small town news traveled fast. Everyone knew about her disappeareance.

At first everyone were worried, everyone looked for her. But as time passed and nothing was found, people needed someone to put the blame on. So why not choose the most hated boy in town?

Jung Wooyoung.

He had nothing to lose anyways.

''You know the girl who disappeared? He probably took her. He's probably a little pervert. He probably got her locked up in her basement and uses her whenever he feels the urge to''

Comments like these were almost normalized in the small town. Something that didn’t sit right with one girl.

She couldn't understand what he ever did to be hated, even by his own mom. She'd seen him sleeping on a bench, outside an old and abandoned restaurant.

She felt bad for him. Her own family was of high status in the town. They were rich and donated a lot of money to the small hospital, the two schools and such.

Kim Jiwoo, the youngest in the whole family, had always been rather open minded. She never liked judging people by others words. She wanted to know him, not what everyone thought about him.

She sighed as she heard her "friends" talking about the boy once more. They weren't really her friends, they simply hung out with her because of money and status, and they never had anything kind to say about anyone but themselves and Jiwoo.

''Hey, do you actually think he keeps her in his basement?'' Ara asked in an amused tone, knowing very well that Wooyoung heard her.

''Yeah, of course he does'' Hana replied in even more amused tone as she noticed that Wooyoung posture changed slightly. ''He’s a pervert. He probably keeps her in the basement, has her way with her when he wants, and he probably keeps pictures of her in his phone and rubs one out while watching it''

''I hope he falls down a well and withers away, alone in the dark'' Ara finished before they both started cackling.

Jiwoo let out a tired sigh and turned around in her seat. ''Would both of you shut up? There's no concrete evidence that Wooyoung's done shit, and how would you feel if people spread a rumour about you murdering someone? Or raping? Or kidnapping?''

Minho, the quarterback smirked. He heard the whole conversation since he literally sat next to Jiwoo. Jiwoo'd just assumed that he never listened to them.

''Challenge accepted!''

Jiwoo turned to the boy. ''A) Did you just Barney Stinson me? B) What challenge?''

''I'm gonna steal Wooyoung's phone and prove that he's a pervert!''

Jiwoo sighed. She decided, for once, to take action instead of being all talk. So she stood up, in the middle of the teacher's introduction, and walked over to Wooyung's desk.

The corner in the back.

''Can I sit here?''

The boy looked up from the desk, on which he was currently carving a face, since no one cared what he did anyways. He looked confused. Why would someone wanna sit with him?

He mumbled a quiet ''sure'' and put away the knife and sat up straight.

He knew carrying a knife around and carving shit into the furniture didn't exactly support his attempt on proving himself innocent, but after a while he stopped caring about what everyone thought about him.

''Do you wanna hang out after school?'' Jiwoo asked, still that gorgeous, model smile on her lips.

Wooyoung felt a bit ashamed as he stared at her lips. He wondered what they’d feel like. What they’d taste like.

''Why would you wanna hang out with me?'' He asked and turned his attention back to his little carving.

Jiwoo shrugged. She didn’t know why. She was simply a social butterfly. And he intrigued her.

''I like being social. You intrigue me for some reason, and you’re the only person in the school who doesn’t kiss my ass for status and money ''

''Well, sorry little miss daddy's Princess, but that ain’t gonna happen, ever''

The girl realized how it sounded. ''No! I didn’t mean it like that. I like that you don’t do it. To be honest, I don’t really have any real friends''

Wooyoung let out a sarcastic laugh. ''Oh yeah? Couldn’t daddy’s money buy you some?''

That was it for Jiwoo. Here she was, being as nice as humanly possible when you don’t know someone, especially when there’s a rumor that he’d murdered someone and another one stating that he’d kidnapped and raped a five year old girl.

She always tried to keep the judgement low, or non-existent. But anyone would be kind of concerned with a murder rumour. She thought she was doing a great job at being nice, yet he treated her like a piece of shit.

''Listen here you fucking asshole, I came over here to try and be nice. I wanted to prove to the town that you’re not some weirdo, kidnapping rapist, but apparently you hate everyone, and I can’t judge you, but I have never done shit to you. In fact, when we were in 4th grade, I beat up Dae for bullying you, but fuck you''

Jiwoo started packing up her stuff to go back to her other desk. They both knew all eyes were on them since Jiwoo’s outburst wasn’t the most silent person in the universe.

Wooyoung cursed himself for being such an asshole. It was a habit at this point. If someone tried being nice, his defense mechanism would turn on. He just assumed no one ever wished him well.

He grabbed her arm. ''Look, I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s just… with everyone being nice to me, and then shoving me down a well or similar, it’s hard accepting when someone’s being genuine''

Yes, it had actually happened. Wooyoung was seven and his "best friend" had asked him to come to his house and hang out. He did, and his "best friend" shoved him into a well. In which he had to lay in for three hours, crying his eyes out.

The girl smiled. She could accept that as an apology. And it seemed quite logical what he said. Survival instincts.

She sat back down and smiled. ''So, do you wanna hang out? My dad’s pulling out his ugly old barbecue. When he cooks, there’s enough to feed the whole town. I promise, if they do anything that makes you uncomfortable, you can leave ''

The boy thought about it. ''Sure, uhm, but I gotta do one thing before we go to yours''

Whispers followed his reply. People were sure that Jiwoo pranked him, that she only asked him out of pity, or because she had a bigger plan. All were wrong. She genuinly wanted to get to know the man.

The boy intrigued her, so she acted on it. And to be fair, he was ridiculously good-looking under the black hood.

As the class went on, Jiwoo couldn't be more bored. ''Does anyone know the answer to question 10?'' The teacher looked at the class.

Wooyoung raised his hand, something Jiwoo'd seen him do a lot, but he never got to answer since the teachers seemed to hate him just as much as the students.

''No one?'' The teacher asked, his gaze avoiding Wooyung's corner.

''1939'' Wooyoung said out loud, tired of being ignored.

''Don't speak unless I tell you to!'' The teacher snapped in a rude tone.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes and sunk back down in his seat. ''Asshole'' He mumbled under his breath, causing Jiwoo to chuckle.

While Wooyoung packed up his stuff Minho passed by their desk. It confused them both since he sat in the front.

Without missing a beat Minho snatched Wooyoung's phone from the table and rushed out of the classroom. Jiwoo cursed the fact that Minho was the quarterback. He literally got the position because he could run.

Wooyoung let out a quiet sigh and slung his bag over his shoulder. Jiwoo copied his actions. ''Let's get your phone back, eh?''

''Uhm, I can survive without it''

''Wuss, I'll do it. Let's go''

They headed out of the classroom and spotted everyone in the hallway, gathered around the tall quarterback.

Jiwoo let out a quiet sigh. She walked up to Minho, after pushing her way through the small crowd. She tapped him harshly on the shoulder. When he turned around Jiwoo quickly withdrew her arm and punched the boy in the face as hard as she could.

A small crunch was heard and Wooyoung's phone dropped, right into Jiwoo's expecting hands.

''Don't take things that aren't yours'' Jiwoo smiled sweelty and threw Wooyoung his phone.

Wooyoung pointed behind her. Jiwoo turned around and spotted the quarterback charging at her. ''Why does he have to make things so difficult? Hold this, love'' She handed Wooyoung her bag.

Wooyoung froze for a short moment. Jiwoo called him "Love".

Minho stopped before her and stared down at her. ''Listen here Kim-''

''No, you listen her Park, you've been an asshole since the day I met you. You've never been nice to anyone but your minions, you've never treated Wooyoung as a person. My parents basically run this town, my dad's a lawyer, my mom's... important, let's see who wins?''

Minho fell silent and stared at the very short, yet fiesty girl. ''Well... fuck off''

''Now to the rest of you assholes, did you find a single picture of anything? Any proof? Anything?''

No one said anything.

''That's what I thought!''

''He had a picture of you!''

Jiwoo slowly turned around and looked at Wooyoung. He looked horrified. ''Can I see?''

Wooyoung unlocked his phone and handed it over to Jiwoo. She scrolled through his cameraroll and found two pictures of her. One in the dining hall where she sat alone, side profile towards him as the sun came through thw window, and one of her lauhging about... whatever.

''I look amazing- wow'' Jiwoo mumbled and zoomed in on herself. ''Be gone, idiots! I see no harm in these'' She handed the phone back to the owner. ''Let's head to mine then, loverboy''

''Jiwoo! You coming?'' Ara and Hana asked and turned to their friend. They were planning to hang out earlier, but she wasn't too excited about that anymore.

''No, I'm gonna hang out with Wooyoung'' The girl replied without even looking at her two friends.

The two girls scoffed and looked at the boy. ''Why? He's a kidnappeing pervert''

''So? Do any of you have any proof, whatsoever, of anything? I'm heading out with him, bye''

Wooyoung followed Jiwoo out to her car. His eyes widened. ''Holy fuck, that's a nice car''

A chuckle left the girl's lips. The laugh sounded like heaven to Wooyuong's ears. ''Well, get in. Where did you need to go?''

Wooyoung snapped out of his daydreaming and looked at the girl. ''Oh, uhm, just outside town. I do some charity work at a orphanage there''

Jiwoo smiled. ''You're such sweetheart''

The boy blushed. ''Well, I know how it is living without parents so.... yeah''

She smiled and started the car. Jiwoo drove and Wooyoung gave directions to the building.

When they stopped outside the daycare and Wooyoung got out, he was immediately ambushed by kids. He squatted down and held out his arms as the kids hugged him.

Jiwoo smiled as he spoke with each of them, asking about their day. ''Oppa, who's she? Is she your girlfriend?'' One of the small girls asked with a smirk.

Wooyoung turned around and looked at Jiwoo. ''No, she's a friend. Be nice to her''

A few of the kids immediately walked up to her and started introducing themselves with wide smiles. One girl in particular had a tight grip on Wooyoung's pant leg. She seemed very shy.

Jiwoo walked up her and squatted down in front of her. ''Hello, I'm Jiwoo. What's your name?''

She hid behind Wooyoung's tall frame. ''Uhm... Arin''

''Pretty name, fits perfectly for such a pretty girl'' Jiwoo said and smiled as sweetly as she possibly could.

Arin seemed to accept it and smiled. ''You're sp pretty, Unnie. Are you Oppa's girlfriend?''

''Just a friend I'm afraid''

The small toddler pouted. ''But you're so pretty!''

Jiwoo chuckled as she leaned closer to her. ''Can you keep a super secret secret?'' The girl nodded excitedly. ''Oppa is really handsome, but you can't tell him''

''I promise!'' She giggled and ran away.

The girl stood up straight and looked at Wooyoung, who was frozen in his spot.

Kim Jiwoo, the perfect dream girl, thought he was handsome? The town's misfit, the weirdo creep?

''You there Wooyoung?'' Jiwoo waved her hand in front of his face.

''Hm? Yeah''

''Ah! Wooyoung, right? Welcome!'' Chaeyoung greeted the boy happily as Jiwoo introduced them.

Wooyoung's eyes widened as she squeezed him in a tight hug. He looked at Jiwoo with a panicked look. No one had ever shown him this much love.

''Yah, eomma, you can't just hug people I bring home. Not everyone's comfortable with that!''

The woman immediately pulled away from the hug. ''I'm so sorry Wooyoung, it's just... Jiwoo's girlfriends are all... rude, and you seem to sweet''

The boy was still surprised, as well as confused. ''So you've not heard the rumours?''

''Yeah, well, I prefer creating my own opinion'' The woman smiled sweetly. ''Food will be on the table in a minute, unless your father screws it up again''

Jiwoo chuckled and led Wooyoung up to her room. Wooyoung only stood awkwardly in the door opening, as the only time he'd ever been at someone else's house was with an old "friend" who didn't allow him on the furniture, as if he was a dog.

''Sit wherever'' Jiwoo threw her school bag into her closet and closed it. She sat down on her bed, removed her shoes, and crossed her legs.

Wooyoung carefully sat down in her office chair. He wasn't sure what to do.

''So, tell me about you. I wanna get to know you! I doubt you're a kidnapper since you volunteer at the orphanage''

The boy chuckled. ''Well, uhm, there's not much to know about me. I'm homeless since my own mother hated that everyone knew her son, especially for something bad. I volunteered at the orphanage before that. Uhm, then the girl went missing and since everyone already hated me it was easy to put the blame on me. And yeah, the rest you know''

''You can stay here if you want. We have a spare bedroom'' Jiwoo offered with that same, sweet smile she always wore when she spoke to him.

Wooyoung didn't know what to think about it. He adored it. It made the girl even more beautiful, if that was even possible, but he also felt like she only acted like this out of pity.

''Look, if you're only doing this for some kind of Univeristy resume, or pity, or some kind of... attention from the whole town, just drop the act now and I'll never bother you again''

Wooyoung was ready for her to either lash out on him for "exposing" her, or laugh and throw him out, or continue her lie, but she didn't.

''I know you think I'm doing this out of pity. I know you only see me as some... rich daddy's girl, but I genuinly want to help you, and I really think you are sweet, if you want to at least. Carving faces into the wall works against you, but yeah''

The boy was stunned.

''And I didn't lie before, you are really handsome'' Jiwoo winked and smirked.

''Thanks'' He blushed slightly and pulled up his hood again.

Jiwoo chukled. ''You're a blushy one'' She teased and took out her phone. ''Give me your number''

Wooyoung was hesitant but did as requested. ''Why?''

''Kids! Food!''

''So we can hang out again'' Jiwoo said in a duh-tone.

Wooyoung made a quiet "ah" sound and quickly entered his number into her, much newer, phone. Jiwoo took Wooyoung's phone and did the same to his. She held it up and took a silly selfie before handing it back.

''Smile'' Jiwoo smiled and directed her phone camera to Wooyoung's face. The man did as requested and smiled. ''Pretty, now let's go eat''

''So, Jung Wooyoung, correct?'' Jiwoo's father, Changkyun, turned to the new face.

''Yes, sir''

Changkyun smiled. ''He called me Sir, I like this one!''

Jiwoo chuckled as she ate. Her father loved meeting new people. Especially if they looked up to him. He enjoyed the ego-boost.

''Well, how come you two are hanging ouy? Jiwoo only has mean friends, but you seem really sweet'' Changkyun asked bluntly.

Wooyoung let out an awkward laugh. ''Well, Sir, she sat with me in math. Why I have no idea''

''Because he was intriguing, and my friends are all assholes, might as well make some new ones. And he's the only one in school I haven't spoken to before''

Chaeyoung chuckled to herself. She enjoyed Wooyoung's company, and her daughter seemed to enjoy it as well.

''So, any girls, Wooyoung?'' Chaeyoung asked.

''Eomma!'' Jiwoo glared at her mother.

''Uhm, no ma'am, afraid all the girls in school hates me or are terrified of me, well, except Jiwoo apparently'' Wooyoung smiled sweetly.

Jiwoo looked at the boy with a sweet smile. Well, according to her mother it was "adoring". Chaeyoung was convinced her daughter had found her "one".

Jiwoo and Wooyoung finished their dinner and were quick to disappeared up to her room again.

Wooyoung cursed himself as he caught himself staring at Jiwoo's lips once more.

''Fuck her lips are pretty- even prettier when she smiles''

''I can see you staring'' Jiwoo chuckled and smiled. ''You got lip-fetisch, or what?''

''N-n-no! I just- your- I- your lips are pretty''

Jiwoo chuckled and sat down in front of him. ''Oh yeah? They're pretty?''

Wooyoung didn't know what to do. He was panicking on the inside while also keeping all his focus on Jiwoo's lips. She was so close. He could smell her sweet scent. He could see the glitter specks in her pink, cherry lipgloss.

''Wanna feel them? Or taste them?'' Jiwoo knew she was frisky. But she thought she'd picked up some... hint. A small, subtle nod. Jiwoo smiled again, that sweet, gorgeous smile. That smile Wooyuong had never seen, before she looked at him.

Her smile made him feel like the only person in the entire the world. Her smile made him feel like every problem he'd ever had had disappeared. Her smile made him lose his mind and not focus on anything but her.

Jiwoo chuckled and laid a hand on Wooyoung's shoulder. ''You sure? You don't have to kiss me unless you really want to''

''I- I-... I really want to kiss you, I'm just worried that you'll be let down by me doing... being, well, me''

''Come on, my first was Minho in our class, it's hard to let me down'' She laid a hand on Wooyoung's cheek. ''And who knows, maybe I'll let you down?''

''You could probably never let me down'' Wooyoung smiled weakly.

Jiwoo smiled and laid her small hand on his cheek. She leaned closer, slowly if Wooyoung wanted to back out. He didn't. Jiwoo pressed her lips against Wooyoung's.

Wooyoung might be new to this whole thing, altough he had his fair share of kisses, but he carefully wrapped his arms around Jiwoo's waist and pulled her into his lap.

A small smile rose to the girl's lips as she straddled him. She wrapped her arms around Wooyoung's broad shoulders and pulled him closer.

The man was touch-deprived, and slightly desperate. His hands landed on her hips and his thumbs automatically started rubbing circles on them.

Jiwoo parted her lips slightly, allowing Wooyoung to do as he pleased. Wooyoung accepted the invite and started exploring her mouth with his tongue.

A small, breathy moan left Jiwoo's lips. She was also, slightly, touch-deprived.

She pulled away and chuckled slightly. ''Someone's excited''

Wooyoung blushed and rested his forehead against Jiwoo's shoulder. ''You're mean''

''Yet here you are, without your pent up walls''

''For you only''

[odetoviscera]

Baldur's Gate 3: The Evil Experience

on the recommendation of @leupagus: My Very Special Evil Boy, Vexation. don't worry about the blood, it's a fashion choice.

if you've been wondering how evil you can be in baldur's gate 3, wonder no more-- So Evil.

so beginning at the beginning, i of course chose the Dark Urge (obvious serial killer) origin, who is conveniently customizable, so i also made him Drow and a Lolth Worshipper and a Warlock (all of which has made him only marginally more evil, tbh, mostly the related dialogue options make him a smug bastard, although OCCASIONALLY this will give him a "hmm what if i enslaved you" option which people do indeed react to as if he's an evil maniac and they should flee and/or try to kill him. this goes great for them considering i'm the protagonist.)

i wake up on an illithid ship with no memories, as one does. i befriend a walking talking brain, by which i mean i lobotomize it so that i can more easily control and manipulate it, as one does. i may not know who i am, but i definitely know that i am powerful, mean, and more important than everyone here. also i have a great old one in my brain giving me eldritch blast, so the tadpole wriggling around in there seems normal. i crash the ship sort of accidentally and am set loose on my merry way to wrack the Sword Coast with terrible mayhem. probably. as soon as i figure out if i'm about to turn into a mindflayer.

the first sign of my uncontrollable evil mania was when i tried to talk to a squirrel in act one (actually, i tell a lie, the FIRST sign was when i was tempted to hack Gale's hand off instead of dragging him out of the portal he got stuck in, but i decided i needed a wizard more than a dismembered hand) and the narrator informed me i had been Gripped By A Compulsion and promptly dropkicked the squirrel into a tree. it died, obviously. i was given the option to decide if i cared about this and decided that my opinion was a frankly inappropriate level of malicious glee considering the heights from which i, clearly child of murder, have obviously fallen to get amnesia and get tadpoled and fall out of the sky on a dying illithid spaceship. anyway this set me up for Being Maximally Deranged, however there is No Karma Meter or any equivalent system to MEASURE your evil or limit your dialogue options-- i have free reign at all times, i COULD decide that suddenly i'm going to be a Repentant Murderer, i can do Nice Things if i want the reward or the exp or i am exercising my single scintilla of compassion accidentally inculcated by my eventual three simultaneous romances (one of which is with the mindflayer who lives in my brain/an artifact stopping ME from becoming a mindflayer. this game is so horny, very classic dnd "i roll to romance the villain". except i am also the villain.) at this point i have no romances, though-- at this point my companions watch me kick a squirrel to death and their collective response is "well… that seemed… excessive."

i also have the option to tell every single one of them individually that i am driven by a blood mania to murder and destruction. opinions of this range from "well admitting you have a problem is the first step!" to "that's nice, just point it at the enemy instead of ME". no one seems appropriately concerned about this. they'll learn.

anyway the next sign of my uncontrollable evil mania is that when i decided to be nice to a bard for no reason and she showed up at our next long rest to Join The Party (oh we do get a bard companion, that's nice, i said, like a fool.) i promptly murdered her in the night. as in i woke up covered in blood with her corpse ritually slaughtered at my feet and said "hm. probably shouldn't let anyone else find out i did this" and then sulked when no one gave me proper respect and rewards for murdering her. fortunately the next day my Evil Butler materialized to do just that, and proved he wasn't a figment of my imagination by giving me an Evil Cloak that lets me turn invisible everytime i murder someone. i spend the next half an act or so convinced i'm going to slowly kill off my party, but fortunately i develop the ability to control myself. now i only murder when I WANT to murder.

the rest of act one i am SORT OF a good boy-- i do deliberately get a child killed but i don't PERSONALLY kill her, i get a druid's snake to do it, so does it really count against MY soul? yes but only me and daddy bhaal know it so i am able to continue playing Goody Two Shoes for the rest of the act. (i don't know he's my daddy yet, but like… i know it. i, the player, know it. in my soul. i've played these games before.) delightful fallout, my child murder gets the druid killed after i Helpfully Save The Tieflings by telling the opposing force i'll totally help them break in and kill them all, then betraying them at the last minute. i kill so so so many goblins. i get an inspiration point for how many goblins i kill. goblins are still sentient. It's Still Murder.

act two, however, empowered by all my Blood And Chaos, i turn over a new leaf. sure sure being lauded by the tieflings was fun and all, but i do somewhat regret not killing EVERYONE. i'll do better this time. this shadow-cursed hellscape is really vibing with me. it's also trying to eat me every time i'm not carrying a magic lamp but you can't win 'em all. i pretend that i'm with the antagonists (can you call them villains when I'M the villain?) so i can get their lamp. it's carried by a drider who does not appreciate my sincere compliments about how beautifully fucked up he is. his loss, i'm down to fuck anyone. i'm already fucking a githyanki and a vampire spawn.

when i get to the Big Bad Tower where supposedly they'll know about my tadpole, i discover they know something WAY MORE IMPORTANT: who the fuck i am. everyone here recognizes me. no one will tell me anything. several of them are appropriately terrified. this is infuriating but also promising. the Big Bad is a smug dick and i want to eat his heart raw. i daydream about this.

my butler arrives to tell me if i murder a Special Girl i'll get a treat. i like treats and i LOVE murder so i go looking for her. she's maintaining a Magic Selenite Moon Shield over the single not-shadow-cursed place here, which i hate on principle-- also it's a harper outpost and i hate them too, they'd probably disapprove of murder. some rando minion with wings drops in to tell me the Big Bad of the region wants to kidnap her (ALIVE, he specifies) so obviously i now double want to kill her. i kill her in one round. the magic shield collapses. EVERYONE dies (including the tieflings i saved in act one! full circle.) and then i kill their shadow-cursed undead corpses again, for good measure.

my treat is getting to turn into the slayer. i KNEW i was a bhaalspawn.

behold my true glorious visage. (with blep.) my only complaint is that i can only become this hulking death machine once per long rest. it is, however, not a turn-limited form, i can stay in it Forever if no one kills me as long as i'm willing to Just Murder No Talking. also it has a spectacular ladder-climbing animation, this bitch goes down ladders face-down like a lizard, i love him.)

anyway i don't go back to the Big Bad Tower bc presumably they'll be mad about the dead girl (i'm guessing she's Big Bad's dead daughter miraculously resurrected. i'm totally right by the way.) but the last time i was there i got a quest to find the Big Bad's Relic, which is obviously his phylactery or something since he's got a whole death aesthetic-- after a whole Temple of Shar sequence it turns out his phylactery is a captive aasimar actually. my companion wants to murder her for shar-related reasons, so i give her the go-ahead since i don't have any SPECIAL reason to kill her myself. my companions should get to be evil occasionally too.

with his phylactery dead, it's pretty easy to mow through the Big Bad Tower, especially since i can now turn into the Death Machine. i don't have to talk to anyone here. i can Just Murder.

nearly kill the Big Bad but he flees to his basement, where it turns out there's an mindflayer colony, big deal, we've all got tadpoles in our brains (i've been eating other tadpoles for extra power along the way, because of course i have) okay fine it's a slightly big deal bc there's an elder brain here that my Special Mindflayer Friend is shielding us from whatever. it's under the control of the Big Bad who's death aesthetic turns out to be that he's the Chosen of Myrkul, and also here are reps of the other Dead Three, Bane and My Daddy. i hate bhaal's chosen on sight, as is traditional for a bhaalspawn. i will murder her someday. i will murder her SO GOOD.

unfortunately she and the baneite fuck off with their elder brain to lay siege to baldur's gate while i'm daydreaming about it, so for now all i get to murder is Big Bad Myrkul Edition. moderately satisfying. he turns in an Avatar of Myrkul in the second half but i destroy him so quickly he doesn't even get to regenerate with the hojillion corpses in the area. nobody murders like vexation.

off to baldur's gate to save the city/get bigger hunting grounds!

i do cure the shadow curse on my way out though, because i'm never coming back and i've left the place a blighted wasteland, why not, it gets me a pet druid.

there's also some drama with githyanki and vlaakith, as usual, turns out the Rebel Prince Orpheus is actually how my particular mindflayer (who is finally revealing that he's a mindflayer, a thing i have suspected all along because of all the psychic shit he does) is doing the shielding, etc. etc. also i let my mindflayer boyfriend turn me in a half-illithid, which means i get no tentacles but a BUNCH of new mindflayer powers to make me an even better murderer. can't wait to see who wins in the tug-of-war for my mind, body, and soul--the illithids, my great old one beyond the stars, a devil who keeps trying to get my attention, my vampire boyfriend who wants to ascend to vampire god, or Murder Daddy. my bet is murder daddy.

anyway we get to baldur's gate, where i break in bc i don't want any guards to know i'm here-- just jumped and flew my way up the side of the bridge past the checkpoint. easy peasy now that i have illithid flight powers on command no cooldowns just Psychically Levitate wherever i want to go. also i can turn into a displacer beast. that's right, i now have to option to become TWO DIFFERENT terrifying horror beasts and rip through mobs like papier-mache. my patron really needs to keep up, warlock powers are falling behind. (no they aren't, i've hit level 10 and can now eldritch blast three times in one round and every hit knocks enemies back and terrifies them. i'm gonna chew this city up and swallow it one bite.)

however, first thing when i get into the citadel: the baneite is being coronated Archduke, bc of course he is. so i head up to see if there's a chance to murder him and a room full of peers, BUT. for the first time EVER-- this little shit is willing to tell me Who I Am. Assassin of Bhaal, former high priest of His Temple, and ONE OF THE INVENTORS OF THIS CONQUEST PLAN. that little bhaalite chosen is my bhaalspawn sister (obviously) who fucking tadpoled me, gave me amnesia, and discarded me before making sure my corpse was cold. this will be a mistake! FOR HER.

in the meantime the baneite wants me to know that he is a big fan of mine, would i like to murder my sister since i already murdered the myrkulite, and then he and i can rule this city together with an iron grip and a blood knife, since he's sure he'll have a lot of use for an assassin as a tyrant. mind-reading and my brain-illithid agree that he is actually on the level about this, at least for the moment, so of course i agree. i will rule this city. and then i will murder him. and then i will murder EVERYONE. in THE WORLD.

so now i'm hunting the current chosen of bhaal so i can kill her and steal her place-- my butler is sending me divine visions of it, SHE can't turn into the slayer, i am evil daddy's favourite. she's also kidnapped one of my companions and is threatening to kill her if i show up but i care about that less.

and that's where i am so far! will report on Future Evils.

[animentality]

hey big thank u for being gender neutral about durges <3 I check the tag often and it always hits when people gender durge when it is not something specific to their own durge but just general durge stuff. I know that canon durge is a big male storm sorc dragonborn but it is still nice when people use gender neutral language. like I can only play masc characters and most people here seem to make fem durges and default to she/her

Well that's why I do it!

The canon dark urge is a male dragonborn. But most people on this site who have a fondness for BG3 make female Durges.

So I always call them they/them (with the occasional exception, like when I'm talking about the canon dark urge specifically).

I do like to call them Gortash's wife or husband every now and again, but to me, it's in a gender neutral, jocular way.

Kind of like babygirl and girlboss have become gender neutral, if not male coded entirely. Or to refer to them as murder husbands, just for the Hannibal reference, but with the understanding, it's still gender neutral to me.

I just think it's more inclusive, plus I actually love all Durges.

I read durgetash fanfics with male, female, nonbinary, and trans Durges.

But i feel you on the masc Durge though!

My own personal Durges are always male cuz I'm a he/they and I simply prefer that. I like writing gay/bisexual Durge, and also trans male Durge.

but I do not begrudge anyone their gender identity.

this is a roleplaying game!

Durge is whatever you identify them as.

all Durges are created equal.

and Gortash wants to fuck them ALL because he's whorish like that.

thanks for the ask :)

[blackboxtheater]

Oh writer of two of my favorite fics ever-

I was rewatching Pearl's secret life eps in search of Mumbo clips (since honestly, Mumbo cuts a fair amount of things out of his vids) and only just now saw one of the cutest and funniest thing yet he's done-

"See you in the next one" becomes a trumpet

-Mumbo

Anyways, Hiiii, want to also say again how much I love your fics and writing :>

God he's such a WEIRDO (said with all the love and affection in the world)

And thank you! I know I've been less active because my MCYT obsession is currently going through a lull, so for your ongoing love and support, here is a snippet from my drafts for a future House of String chapter that takes place after Pearl moves into Mumbo's season 9 vault with him.

Moving in with Mumbo is fine.

Mostly.

Trying to beat Decked Out and not get murdered by Gem is taking up all of her energy and nearly all of her brain power, so its easy to come back to the vault each day thinking of nothing but scraping together a meal and collapsing into bed.

But occasionally the close quarters inside the vault and lack of any discernible privacy becomes painfully apparent, and that fact that her new roommate is that attractive and right there crashes over her like a ton of bricks.

Like right now when she looks over from a Decked Out maps she's drawing to watch Mumbo padding across the floor barefoot and fucking dripping wet. Okay, so just his hair is wet. But he’s running a towel through it and when he reaches his hand up to do that his shirt rides up a little and that’s a dangerous path to let her mind and her eyes wander down so she snaps her eyes up to his face.

Except that's no better because she can see every drop falling from his hair and where it lands on his white tee shirt.

She wants trace her fingers over his shoulders as she counts each drop.

She wants to dig her fingers into his wet hair.

She wants to be so close that she is surrounded by the scent of the body wash and shampoo that she can smell from all the way over here. 

She wants to know if he tastes like steam and the spearmint toothpaste that sits on the bathroom counter next to hers.

She wants to-

“Is there something on my face? Did I nick myself shaving?”

His question slices through all those thoughts.

Fuck. She must be staring. 

“Wait did I catch the mustache?"

He must take her silence as a bad thing, because there is genuine concern in his eyes as he runs a hand  over his jaw, throwing the towel over his shoulder in the process.

She almost has a coherent thought formed in response until he steps even closer, hitting her with another wave of the smell of his shampoo.

"Is it uneven? Did I make it uneven?”

Watching his hands move over his mouth make the urge to reach out and touch him almost overwhelming.

But the echoes of the past are louder. It was a lifetime ago that she almost gave in and kissed him back in season 8. Back in the ender pearl stasis chamber, with his hair just as floppy and wet in that moment as it is now. But back then it wouldn’t have ever occurred to her that she might one day be sitting in Mumbo’s base, scratch that, living in Mumbo’s base because it was the place she felt the safest on the server. And honestly, maybe the place she felt safest anywhere at all.

If she had given in and kissed him that day, then this day probably would never have happened. She would have kissed him and maybe hooked up and then they would have fought or had a falling out or Grian would have discovered them and everything would be so different than her life now. She wouldn’t be here if she made that mistake then, and she sure as hell isn’t going to kiss him now and risk whatever might happen in the future.

She won’t.

“No, your mustache looks fine." She finally manages to settle on, and when the relief floods his eyes and he leans back, its easier to think clearly again.

"It looks perfectly Mumbo.” she adds with a smile before turning back to her map, and she doesn’t look back as the sound of his footsteps and the smell of his shampoo drift off into other corners of their home.

[hessdalen-globe]

My Favorite Villains Part 2 - James Gillies

Murdoch Mysteries, a Canadian murder mystery drama, is an episodic TV show set in Victorian Toronto. But like most shows that take on this nature, the series occasionally has overarching themes and recurring characters. James Gillies is one of them.

Gillies, portrayed by Michael Seater, first appeared in the season 2 episode Big Murder on Campus. Gillies is a polite, intelligent, and helpful young student who, along with his friend Robert Perry, assists detective William Murdoch in finding the killer of their physics professor Dr. Bennett.

As you might have guessed, this personality hides something sinister. A psychotic killer devoid of empathy, who uses his intelligence to kill. Not to gain anything or exact revenge. Just simply to kill.

But I don't think his politeness is deliberately placed as a mask, because he never drops it. Not after Murdoch finds he was behind Dr. Bennett's murder, not when he's being interrogated years after the fact, not when he's killing. All throughout the series, he remains the same. Never losing his cool, always well spoken. It's as much a part of his personality as is the urge to kill.

His intelligence is put on display throughout his numerous appearances. His ability to escape imprisonment and think of every detail to cover his tracks is impressive. Right from his first scheme, the murder of Dr. Bennett, this is evident. The perfect crime that no one could point to him. That is, except for someone of equal, or possibly even higher, intelligence.

This person is William Murdoch. Even if only one single crumb is left, Murdoch will not miss it, and he'll find the trail. He put the pieces together and saw past the facade of his helper. Had it been any other detective, Gillies likely would have gotten away with the crime. But either it was just luck, or he met a true opponent.

Gillies became obsessed with Murdoch. Every escape he made from jail, and every following crime, was done to get to Murdoch. He wanted to test him, to cause him pain. Over the years his schemes always put the power of life and death in Murdoch's hands. Whether it be to solve a mystery Gillies had orchestrated in order save another from being killed, or to murder one to save someone the detective loved.

Murdoch always outsmarted Gillies, though the battles were never easy. The two truly are very closely matched in their wits, from strategy to inventing.

Gillies is a very interesting character, one of my favorites from the series and one of my favorite villains overall. His dialogue and nature are entertaining to watch, and in some ways he acts as a foil to Murdoch in terms of intelligence. And though he finally met his end in season 10, I feel he went on his own terms as his pain from prior injuries brought him to his final stand.

Still, his ghost lingers in Toronto.

[bingo6776]

Confrontation - 1/2

wednesday addams x reader 

2.1k

summary:  Wednesday has started to neglect your relationship to solve the mystery. You finally confront her about the relationship going from dreamy to doomed because of it.

You had been dating Wednesday Addams for slightly under a year, and you knew that dating Wednesday would come with its challenges, she wasn’t as experienced with relationships as the rest of her peers, and its not like that bothered her, but she understood, as you did, that there would be struggles.

The push and pull effect she had on her relationships, the hot and cold – in her case, it being the lukewarm and the burning frost.

 But it also came with its highs, the psychic doesn’t seem like it, but she could be soft, and sweet when she wanted to be.

There was the time in the quad where you were only in your school shirt with no blazer. How you kept thinking you could fight off the cold with your abnormal body temperature, Wednesday would never know, you were shivering in your spot every time. Teeth chattering and everything. She would offer you her coat, albeit not making eye contact as she held it out to you, a silent demand that you take the piece of clothing more than an actual offer. Of course, Wednesday would say you were distracting her from whatever book she was pouring over, her already deathly cold skin practically being immune to the cold weather.

 She would walk into the classes you shared together, and stare at whoever had tried to sit next to you in the class with a murderous look in her eye until they related and moved. The top record for the student being able to hold out is 4 seconds. If she let you sit close enough for you thighs to be touching, she would deny it, or blame it on the extremely spacious table being too small to have a comfortable amount of distance, ignoring the fact that there was multiple open seats she could have taken instead.

And, of course, she would deny it if she ordered her coffee too sweet for her likings and push it in your direction. She would never traipse all the way to Jericho before classes just to get you a drink. No way. Never.

Except on Mondays, and Fridays.

 And the occasional Wednesday afternoon trip after fencing.

But otherwise, no never.

 Yet, there were still challenges. For example, you were currently sitting on Wednesday’s bed, as you had been doing for the past 45 minutes, wearing the black sweater she loved seeing you in, waiting for her to get back from wherever the fuck she had disappeared to this time.

 No, you hadn’t just walked in uninvited and expected to find her waiting at your beck and call.

Because you had been. Invited that is.

 She had stopped you in the corridor a day or so before when you were on your way to your next class demanding you be at her room at 10pm on the dot, as Enid was going to be with her “disappointment of a gorgon boyfriend,” doing whatever “mindless adolescent activities” the couple filled their time with.

Wednesday had flashed you a small, barely there smile, before threatening to “skin your wolf and keep its fur” in her dorm if you were late.

Ironic.

 As you watched the digital clock on Enid’s side of the dorm finally mark the fact that you had been patiently waiting for an hour, you thought fuck it, if Wednesday wanted to spend time with you that badly, which apparently she did not, she would have to come and find you for it.

 Clenching and unclenching your jaw as you laced up your shoes, you fought to not let your wolf form rip out if its inner cage. It’s not entirely shocking your usually impeccable self-control always came under question with Wednesday, no matter the emotion: happy, sad, disappointed, anxious, angry.

And right now? You were homicidal, the urge to tear at something fuelling the fire in your veins. This was the third time this week alone – you had lost count of how many times it had been over the last few weeks, to be honest - that Wednesday had left you alone and waiting like a dumbass, to not even show.

Did you get an apology? No.

Did she try to make it up to you in some way? No.

An explanation? You practically scoffed at the idea.

 Walking – definitely not stomping, you were a werewolf, not a sulking child – towards the door, you had barely been able to move more than a couple of steps until the oh so great Wednesday Addams herself walked in.

“Y/n? Is everything alright?”

 She sounded confused. Confused. The absolute fucking audacity.

 “Where have you been?” you gritted out between your clenched teeth, watching as her perfectly shaped brow quirked up slightly. “I’ve been sat around waiting for you for an hour, Wednesday. an hour.”

 Tracking her every movement with your eyes, as she placed her bag on the floor and slid her jacket over the back of her desk chair. You literally saw the cogs turning in her brain, watching the moment of realisation dawn on her from the way her eyes awkwardly flicked to yours for a split second, going to the door, and then back to yours. There was a quick flash of worry that flashed across her features, her mouth opening slightly and her gaze softening slightly, it would have wiped away your anger if the flash of emotion hadn’t disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.

 “I had forgotten about our meeting, there is a storm tonight, and I didn’t want any possible clues at the monsters activities to be washed away,” usually, you adored Wednesday’s voice, but tonight the monotone way she drawled out her words made you want to gauge your eyes out with a rusty spoon. She’d probably like that actually. “It will not happen again,” she held eye contact with you, expecting you to follow on with the script that you had both unofficially constructed for yourselves over the past few weeks.

 It usually went like this:

Wednesday walking in on you lounging on her bed, prepared to wait until the early hours of the morning before you gave up on the girl showing up.

Her muttering a quick and meaningless “it won’t happen again,” you both knew it would.

You’d swallow up her obvious lie with an easy “oh, yeah no. totally. I understand,” following up with your questions about the investigation, getting one worded response. Until you turned to talking about your day, you’d get the usual ‘hmm’ every few sentences. Leading to the “so, do you want to hang out, still? Watch a horror movie, read together?”

And then the awaited dismissal, “Y/n, I appreciate you waiting for me, but it is late, and I have to review some events that occurred today. I shall see you for class tomorrow.”

And that was that. You’d walk out and wait until she stopped you again in a few days.

It wasn’t always like this, no, this was a recent development. You knew at times her obsessions may interfere with your relationship, that was okay, you didn’t need to be her number one priority all the time, you knew the raven was best at compartmentalising.

You just didn’t expect having to begrudgingly take the bare minimum for so long. You had hoped that eventually Wednesday would start acting like she wanted you again.

At this point you think you’d forgive her if she agreed to go on a walk around campus with you.

 “No, we are not doing this again, Addams,” you saw the slight flinch at the use of her surname, instead of the plethora of loving nicknames you usually showered her with. “Listen, I understand that this is important to you, I do, more than anyone. I have dragged my ass into whatever decrepit house you asked me to, running from the literal monster that has killed umpteenth people in the woods because you can’t let this go. And that’s all fine and dandy. But I refuse, Wednesday,” you match her intense gaze with your own, you ignore the way you feel your claws digging into your clenched fists, actually relishing in the distraction the warm red liquid was seeping through your fingers gives you from the sweltering pain in your heart, “I refuse to be pushed aside time and time again until you finally deem me worthy of your time. Because this isn’t the first time, and we both know it won’t be the last until you solve the mystery. But are you really willing to lose everyone who loves and cares for you because of your god damn fucking obsession? I love you, and it feels like you barely acknowledge me anymore.”

 You had a million things you wanted to say, but instead you just sighed dejectedly as she stared at you in silence, being the perfect image of indifference. Well, she would have been if it wasn’t for the thick layer of tears that covered her eyes, but no, like you had said, you weren’t going to push it all under the rug before it was unfixable simply because the Addams was emotionally constipated.

 “If you truly understood, you would understand that there are sacrifices to be made,” her voice low, speaking slowly as if you were a dog who didn’t know how to ‘roll over’, “there are bigger things at play, I can’t lose an opportunity to know what is happening, it could bring me closer to finding out who the killer is.” She said this as if that solved everything, as if you were also meant to be focusing as heavily on the mystery as she was, as if, like her, you were meant to live and breathe it without thinking about anything else for a second.

Yeah, God forbid she thought of her girlfriend for longer than the two minutes it took to invite you over, only for her mind to be clouded over again when she left you stranded in the room, hoping Enid wouldn’t walk in and see your miserable figure in the room.

 “There are more important things other than the monster, you know? There are trained professionals who can catch it, normie and outcast.” you wished you had left the room earlier.

 “I am the one who is destined to solve the murders, I am the one who was in the drawing, I am the key to whatever is happening. I do not need you to be burdening me with this constant clinginess and desperation for my attention, this is what is important to me,” she had forced each and every word out of her throat, wishing she could ignore ethe way she saw your face contort as you fought of the tears at her words, as if every word cut you like a blazing dagger.

If Wednesday was being honest with herself, she was scared of the emotions that were waging a war within herself, the desire to know what monster has been leaving the masterfully carved bodies building in the morgue at an increasing rate, against the way she felt as if her very soul called out to you. To be held, and to be loved by you, to have your arms wrapped around her, to give herself a moments peace from the consistent inner monologue.

 Wednesday had warned you that she would stomp all over your heart and leave you a bloody mess on the floor as she ripped your heart out from your body with a smile on her face at hearing your pained cries. She knew what she was, she wasn’t soft or sweet, she was cold and jagged, she was sour and cruel. Oh. how desperately Wednesday wishes she wasn’t, she wish she wants as she saw you hastily walk towards the door, barely holding back your sobs as you cried for the girl you loved.

The Addams has to force herself to stay where she was, her grip on her chair so tight her knuckles turned white, and the chair creaked.

Wednesday screwed her eyes shut as she fought her own wave of tears, her organs feeling s if they were tearing themselves apart repeatedly, the thumping in her ears overwhelming her, leaving her with an ache in her head. It was nothing compared to the hollowness in her own heart.

 Once, she had told Bianca she cared more. But she wished she cared less at this very moment, she didn’t want to care that she had fucked up again, she didn’t want to care that she had reduced you to tears.

 But she did.

And now she didn’t know what to do.

--- 

a part two will be coming shortly! if you want to throw any ideas my way for a Wednesday x fem/GN reader, or maybe a wenclair fic, id be more than happen to listen!

ao3: Im_Just_Gay

[mocknerd]

So my idea of a crossover between Death Note and Durarara!! would be to have Mikado find the Death Note.

A lot of people think Izaya would be the Light Yagami figure, but Izaya isn't the master manipulator genius type that a lot of people think he is. Yes, he can and will manipulate and he is certainly bright, but not in some grandiose, "I have everything set up and planned" sort of way. He likes to have the image of that, but it's not who he is. He prefers the randomness of it all. He loves humans, and therefore treats them like the Sims left on free will, with the occasional little tweak on his part. On that same note, Izaya wouldn't kill random people. He could care less if some people get hurt by his actions, or if they decide to kill each other, but killing is not his forte. The only exceptions to his style are those he dislikes (eg. Shizuo, Saika, maybe Celty) and the odd jobs that require him to take such actions in order for him to get paid (eg. the Amphisbaena arc). In these cases, his actions are more direct and involved, with him at the centre of the danger, which may involve the death of a person.

So instead I see him playing as a Ryuk figure to a much more naive and increasingly unpredictable Mikado. Watching to alleviate boredom, and occasionally poking in to get the ball rolling more.

Mikado with a Death Note is a much more interesting concept, because I can see him actually using it, granted with some hesitation from the start. While Izaya may get rid of any non human characters he considers in the way of his love for humanity (would it work on a demon sword?), Mikado would start using it in his reach for an extraordinary life. And we've seen how far he can push for that in the last arc.

I can see him finding it in the park, in the Mika Harima arc. While I considered giving it to him later, I think right from the start could help him settle into the idea of murder for the right reasons. Of course he wouldn't use it right away. Either he considers it a prank, or sees it as wrong to just test it out and kill a random person, or even just wish death upon them. He would feel tempted when he thinks Seiji and Namie killed Mika, but until he has all the evidence, he would resist.

In the Saika arc, the urge would grow stronger, but of course nobody knows who the actual Slasher is, so he has no way of confirming the books abilities by killing them. Takashit would be a good contender, but there is no final push moment there that could lead him to it.

I think the best contender for the first victims would be Horada and his group, right at the end of the Yellow Scarves arc. After chasing Anri (I know its anime only, but lets include it) and getting Masaomi severely injured, I can see Mikado asking who did this to them, and writing his name down in a sort of silent fury. It's not until the news confirms that Horada and his group were found after dying of heart attacks, when the horror of what he had done sinks in for Mikado. He would quickly hide the Death Note, vowing to not use it again, and won't touch it for a while, at least until the Akane arc.

During this time, I can see Izaya being curious as to the cause of these men dying in such a way at the exact same time. So he might investigate it.

On top of that, I can see the Death Note once belonging to Celty in this universe. She is a sort of grim reaper after all, so if she's lost her head, it's not far fetched to believe, that other aspects of her roll were lost too. Maybe Nebula and Yagiri pharmaceuticals had it, but saw no use for it, and threw it away. Maybe after seeing Horada's death on the news, Celty realises what's happened, remembers her Death Note, and rushes to try and find it before anything else happens.

Perhaps Izaya notices this and decides to try and find it himself. And this is what leads to him finding out it's Mikado who has it, at about the same time Aoba offers to help purge the Dollars. Izaya doesn't really do anything about it, and instead decides to watch how things go. And to prolong it a little, he decides to keep Mikado's secret identity as this universes "Kira" safe.

And of course, after being given the idea to "purge" the Dollars by Aoba, Mikado then begins to consider using the Death Note to do so. His next group of victims are the ones who kidnapped Chikage's girlfriend. And from there, he starts killing anyone in the Dollars who misbehaves. This goes hand in hand with his hope for the Dollars to become like an urban legend. Whether or not he sticks to the murder as a last resort, or he just ignores Aoba as an option I have left undecided. I say this as if I'm gonna write the full thing.

1. Mikado kills the guy who attacks Shinra. Izaya, for once, takes a disliking to his actions, because he wanted to make the guy suffer more for what he did. He doesn't specify why though. Mikado, maybe getting a little more unhinged and tactical at this point, warns Izaya that he himself has hinted at causing problems in the Dollars, and that it would be a lot easier if he wasn't around to do that anymore. Izaya has a rare moment "oh fuck, what have I done, oh fuck, this kid might kill me."

From there I don't know fully how things would go. But I do have some vague ideas for big dramatic moments and how other characters might fit into this. Some of them may be illogical and not add up, but I just think they would be cool ideas:

Can't decide if Aoba: knows about the death note, and is in a similar position; doesn't know, but is part of a growing follower base for this universes "Kira" because it's shown to benefit him in some way; or just straight up dies quickly because of endangering Anri.

Assume that Mikado has a way to ensure nobody else gets ahold of the Death Note, because if either of these guys decide they have had enough and steal it for themselves, that would just be boring.

3. Shizuo gets killed because of acting up one too many times and negatively impacting the Dollars image. Yes there is irony in that.

2. Mikado is definitely posting as "Kira" on the Dollars site, confirming why he killed certain people and ensuring the rest of the Dollars stay in line.

It also emphasises how it might be giving Mikado too much of an ego with how much power it is giving him over some of the most notorious people of Ikebukuro, further cementing the Dollars into the history of the city.

It also gives further fuel to Celty finding her Death Note.

5. The van gang could give some funny references, but they are also there to find the killer. Because they are ruining what was once a decent community.

4. Vorona wants to find and kill "Kira", because if they can kill anyone, including Shizuo, then surely they are a worthy opponent. She also has the added benefit of having a fake name.

Other "Kira" hunters might include: Simon, Akane, Masaomi and the Awakusu.

But those are all my ideas for it. They sort of came to me a while back when someone in the fandom was talking about Death Note. Can't remember who, or what about, but I finally got to have my chance to talk about it.

[valeriianz]

20 questions for fic writers!

tagged by @honeyteacakes <3 (and belatedly, @tharkuun haha)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

25

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

400,576 (+ 100k extra from fics i've deleted/orphaned in the past few years haha rip)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

i am at the mercy of the hyperfixation, and currently it's The Sandman and Dreamling exclusively.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1) Salvation (How to Get Away With Murder) 2) The Red Witch (Good Omens) 3) Bolt in the Blue (The Sandman) 4) Let Me Down Easy (The Sandman) 5) Show Me (The Mandalorian)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

yes and no. i love that people take the time to show their appreciation for a fic and i always want to reply and show how much it means to me... but i have this bad habit of not replying to comments on say, older works or older chapters of a fic. idk why... im just not good at it lol BUT I LOVE AND APPRECIATE EVERY SINGLE COMMENT, EVEN THE LITTLE ONES 💖💖

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh, Exit Wounds, for sure haha

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

im a sucker for happy endings so i'd say, everything else lol but particularly Almost Idyllic (The Song of Achilles) due to the build up and Salvation also, because of the events leading up to the ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not since my ff.net days haha.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

very occasionally. and nothing too wild (except for that dreamling butt plug one. that was. hmm.) but i typically enjoy writing first times.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i do not.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope. though i have seen ideas/prompts used without credit. it doesn't bother me much.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

once, The Red Witch (which btw has been discontinued, pls don't read it lol). it started off just me, then my editor jumped on maybe 5 chapters in once i realized they were much more versed in magick and fantasy than me.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

haha probably Zutara.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

ahhh haha... fuck. idk i want to say none. but my brain keeps whispering about the dreamling road trip au. i thought i had a plot but as i continue working on bitb and other little drabbles... ive realized i might've bitten off more than i can chew. and my only option is to completely sideline it until im done with bitb, or change the story (because right now the research i have to do for it is too much and y'all know how i am...) it sucks cos i do want to write it. but it's difficult when all my patience for research is already going into one fic (bitb).

16. What are your writing strengths?

dialogue and monologuing, probably.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

self 👏 motivation 👏 finding 👏 the 👏 urge 👏 to 👏 write (technically, it's tense. i flip between past and present tense constantly and at this point i just consider it one of my endearing qualities pfft)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i try to avoid it but when it happens i just use Google Translate and then toss a disclaimer that ive done my best (to which usually a commenter will helpfully correct me and then all is well)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Inuyashaaaaa (Miroku/Sango omg). exchanging physical notebooks with my friends with fanfics we'd written in school lol

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

truly a tie between Savory & Sweet and Let Me Down Easy (at the moment). the restaurant au was so easy and fun to write (probably because i used to be in the industry) and i reread it a lot. the pacing is fast and i love how immediate Hob and Dream fall into each other haha. Let Me Down Easy was very similar. my major was Media Production in undergrad and although it's been a while since i've held a camera, it was fun putting myself back in that environment. also the angst and tension were just a blast to write and figure out.

(this was an excellent waste of time, thanks again!) tagged, if y'all want, @magnusbae @teejaystumbles @ml-nolan @tj-dragonblade @reallyintoscience @delta-pavonis @staroftheendless