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ellesthots · 4 months ago

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Fateful Beginnings

XXIX. “uncanny valley”

parts: previous / next

plot: you and Bruce dance around the horrors of the weekend, desperate to make things right—or, at least, better.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, angst, mental health issues, descriptions of violence, descriptions of injury, grief, anxiety

words: 6.1k

prev. chapter summary (XXVIII): You go to Wayne Tower on Saturday night to talk to Alfred about ways to get Bruce help. Alfred is hopeless. Bruce intercepts, bitter at your intrusiveness, and storms off. You call Dr. Crane, who tells you to refrain from following him for fear of escalating the argument. On your walk home, you run into a panicked, horrified Bruce in an abandoned alley near his house. He does not recognize you, and after calling Alfred for him to be picked up, Bruce begs Alfred not to tell his parents about him being out so late. After a brief heartfelt (and teary) conversation with Alfred, where he expressed thanks and reassured you were not making things worse (as you thought, and still think), you went home. The next day, Bruce has no recollection of the night before, brought up to speed by Alfred. At Alfred’s urging, Bruce visits your apartment on Sunday, begging you to see his side. The argument becomes heated, and, convinced by Dr. Crane’s horrifying prognosis for Bruce and his own erratic, dangerous behavior, you do a last hail-mary to get him help: you lie about being the person who saw Bruce jump, expressing how terrified you were at thinking you’d watched him die. This immediately triggers Bruce to his childhood, and he does a hard reset on his denial, horrified he’s repeating the cycle, reassuring you he will accept help.

Outside of receiving some calls, you hadn't checked your phone since Thursday night. Texts, socials, it had all been abandoned trying to remove the noose snaking Bruce's neck. After the phone call with Alfred you were able to relax into bed and pull out your phone—immediately smacked by a bazillion texts from Mar, a few from your parents, and some mentions on Scypher. You clicked on Mar's texts first.

Thursday, 11:50pm: OMGGG just now seeing thissss i got so lit tonight. sorry!! idk if i can make it to help you move. def can't drive in the morning tho!!! ttys!!!

Friday, 1:20am: ok lolz i went to a second club 2nite and yahhh i don't think i can make it 2morrowww

Friday, 12:30pm: if ur still in town i could help, i just got a massive headache hahaha have you left yet

Friday, 1:22pm: ur prob on the road byeee

Friday, 1:30pm: wait ur still in Gotham??

Today, 12:58pm: BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!! you didn't tell me you did the interview with him!! like actually!!!!!!! okayyyy too famous to respond to me I see? i'll make sure to visit to get your autograph lol.

Today, 2:15pm: bro i got so many more friend requests already today???? some are Bruce Wayne fan accounts. wtf!!!??? this is like blowing up

Today, 6:15pm: MISSED CALL FROM MAR.

Today, 6:16pm: MISSED CALL FROM MAR.

Today, 6:18pm: LOOK !!!!

She'd attached a Buzzfeed article titled: Bruce Wayne's First Interview Came Out Today, and Our Jaws (and Clothes) are on the Floor

You couldn't read any further though, seeing as you had a handful of texts from your parents to sort through.

Friday, 1:45pm: Hey hunny! Your mother and I are home from the second shot. She told me to text you 'I am fine'. We will call you this evening after I finish up the deck.

Friday, 6:37pm: MISSED CALL FROM DAD.

Friday, 6:40pm: Deck done. When you visit next I'll show you. Walter likes it. Love you

Today, 3:13pm: MISSED CALL FROM MOM.

Today, 3:20pm: Hi kiddo. Wow! Congratulations on the article! Debbie showed it to us when she visited earlier. I thought you said you were done with that guy. Love you sweety!

You responded to your dad about your mom, and your mom about the article. You refused to comment on her mention of Bruce, wanting to purge your mind as much as you were able to after the weekend you'd had. You resigned to calling her first thing in the morning, miserable over forgetting about her second shot. After responding to Mar to update her on staying (and to express faux excitement about the article's release), you stayed up a few more minutes to see if your parents might still be awake and responsive. Sleep.

You woke up late that day, around two in the afternoon; the only reason you hadn't slept even longer was a phone call from Dr. Vry startling you awake. "Y/N! Have you seen your article? I can't believe it. Over a hundred applications just TODAY to the journalism program!"

You fought your way through the conversation, the gears in your head finally harnessing enough energy to start worrying again. The call ended quickly, as she 'had a lot of applications to get through', and you called your mom without a second glance at your phone notifications.

"Hey sweetie. I saw your text last night, but I couldn't respond. Walter was finally curled up in my lap, you know how sensitive he is." She sounded fine, neither ecstatic nor miserable. Her energy picked up when she started talking about your article. "Your dad was looking into that Wayne guy, and ran across that article of yours. He didn't know it was you that wrote it until Debbie brought it over!"

You'd padded out to your kitchen to make some toast with the butt of the bread. "Since when is dad researching things about Gotham?"

"He's been very intrigued ever since graduation. He—"

Your dad sounded off in the background. "Hun? Hey! I saw that article of yours! His first interview ever. That's a big family, you know. The Waynes. It's a big deal sweetie!"

He continued without leaving space for you to change the topic. "You know about his parents, right? God, poor kid. Seems to have recovered from it well enough."

You stifled a laugh at him delivering the most famous lore of Gotham city like it was breaking news. "Yeah, I know about his parents."

"You know, I knew I sensed something between you two. When's he coming to visit?" You heard a meow in the background, and you could only imagine your dad was munching on some sandwich he desperately wanted.

"Dad,"

"People don't give their first interviews to just anyone. Must've really impressed him."

"He's never coming over, dad."

"You don't have to be embarrassed honey. He seems like a stand-up guy! Next visit, bring him."

"It sounds like you want to meet him." You rubbed your temples, having temporarily abandoned your peanut butter spreading. You didn't know if you were right, but you could've sworn you heard him shaking his head. Walter meowed again. He definitely had some sort of food in his hand.

"What kind of dad would I be if I weren't excited to meet my daughter's boyfriend?"

The juxtaposition of the past few days to his chipper, nonchalant demeanor was stark, reducing you to a teary mess. No, you wanted to snap at him. I actually visited him in a psych ward. Had to stop his future from becoming a funeral.

"Hey, whoa now..." Your mom spoke in a hushed, frustrated tone in the background. "I'm sorry sweetie. I get it. I won't talk about him anymore."

You continued to cry, unable to get any words out. It was like you were finally able to feel the weight of what had been placed on you, feel the piercing stab of the fear it instilled. Your sobs were so pathetic and deep that your mom kept asking if you could breathe. It took much longer than you were comfortable with to even begin steadying, and when you did you knew it wouldn't last. You told them you had to get back to work, and that you'd see them in two weeks.

Vanity Fair. Vogue. People. Cosmopolitan. Us Weekly. Elle. Glamour. Seventeen. Marie Claire. Your eyes had fuzzed over as anxiety nestled into your gut. So this had been... this had been huge. 600 followers had turned into 13,000, and that was just on Scypher. Instagram had 300, now 6,500. So many mentions, so many comments, you started to panic even more. You tossed the phone across the bed and wrapped your arms around your body, rocking slowly back and forth, squeezing your arms so hard they began to ache. Flashbacks to Saturday night pulsed between your eardrums, projected on the back wall of your mind. You'd never seen someone so out of their element before. The image of him in the fetal position on the ground. The screaming. The nearly incomprehensible rattle in his voice. The stitches that bulged, the skin sloughed off his fingers. The blood. The sweat. The panic. Dread. Fear. Hysteria.

Your hands shook just the same as they fought to text Alfred. Your fingers garbled the message, but you couldn't handle another second without knowing if he was alive or dead. What if he'd taken the whole fucking bottle? What if he was on the floor of his bedroom, the last dregs of his functioning body procuring foamy spit out of his mouth for him to choke on? What if he flung himself off another building? His house was so fucking tall. So empty. So huge. So many places he wouldn't be seen, he wouldn't be found, so many places someone could hide if they needed, or wanted. What if he was strung up by his neck on a ceiling bar?

You shrieked in pain as waves of fear ravaged you. If it were real water you'd be swept under, and you wouldn't even fight it. The water would take away all your troubles, your worries, your fears. But he couldn't know that. They couldn't know what this was doing to you.

You set the phone down.

If he knew, he'd feel guilty. He couldn't feel guilty. Guilt would hurt him more. Guilt could push him over the edge.

Instead, you dialed Dr. Crane. He answered on the second ring, always so quick. "Y/N. I was about to call you. Before we get into it, why did you call?"

Anxiety lurched up into your chest, eager to overwhelm and incapacitate. "Get into what?"

Dr. Crane laughed, a discordant sound that chilled you. "To thank you. Whatever you did, it was successful. This is strictly confidential, but he is accepting treatment."

So he's alive? "I wanted to talk to you about that." You swallowed hard, yanking at a loose thread in your comforter. "I uh, he wasn't going to get help until I, until I lied."

"About what?" Dr. Crane's composure was always strictly maintained, and this time was no different. He never gave away his feelings. "I had to tell him I was the witness. I said I saw him jump."

"Oh."

That was quite possibly the worst thing he could've said.

"Well, that changes things."

"What things?"

"For one, that's a secret you must keep. Glad you clued me in." You heard a rustling of papers, a hushing of his tone. "Usually that would be unacceptable, but if we're both being honest," His candor was unsettling. "I have yet to see someone as deeply in denial as him accept treatment. I went to sleep fully anticipating waking to news of his passing." His tone was suddenly lighter, almost singsongy. "I can't say I'm disappointed in you."

You had no concept of how to respond to that. Guilt ulcerated your stomach and strangled your chest, but at least Bruce was breathing. After a silence that was too long, long enough you were surprised he hadn't yet hung up, you spoke. "Are we, are you, sure?" Words were having trouble finding you. "About the lying? I didn't see it, and what if the real witness,”

"There is nothing to be concerned about regarding the witness. Mr. Wayne has begun treatment, and will soon be stable. Incredible work."

"I—"

"You saved Bruce Wayne’s life, Y/N. It's only a shame it's a badge you can’t share." You could hear the smile in his tone, but you weren't happy. The reassurance you’d been seeking was far from assuring, leaving you situated in an uncanny valley of suspicion. How could he be so joyful? Why wasn't he drilling you about going to such lengths? Had it… had it really been that fucking hopeless? Anger boiled in you at the prospect of Dr. Crane knowingly sending you on a suicide mission. Before you burnt the bridge, you thanked him for the update and hung up. It took everything in you not to throw the phone against the wall.

The shower was scalding. You barely felt it. He must have thought he wouldn't make it. He seemed so fucking resolved to Bruce's death. Fully anticipating waking up to news of his passing? But there was 'nothing he could do'? Not a word of tangible advice besides 'don't go after him'. If I listened to him, who knows who would have found him out there! Would he have attempted again? You also wrestled with the uncomfortable reality that Dr. Crane had been correct; you had played a vital role in him accepting treatment. Had Dr. Crane psychoanalyzed you, deemed you the sort of person to lie if needed? Someone he could push to do things outside of personal liability? A sort of reverse hitman?

As you toweled off, your anxious mind continued its rumination. So he took meds. But did he take just one? Alfred will watch him, right? Hold onto his meds, only give him them as needed? Is he employing a system, making sure he checks under Bruce's tongue, locks the bathrooms, listens for retching, making sure the medication is accurately and genuinely consumed, as prescribed? You needed a break, but you couldn't find one. Sitting on the edge of your bed you knew you wouldn't be able to rest until you knew he was alive right now. And the next day. And the next day. And the next. A boulder jammed down your shoulders knowing you wouldn't be satisfied unless he personally slept on your couch so you could monitor him like a newborn. His attempt and general discontent were affecting you far more than you'd initially internalized.

Bruce sat in Alfred's study by the fireplace, staring out the window towards the grounds. Over breakfast with Alfred he took the first dose of the medication, and only a few hours later he swore he could feel the effects. He'd done some quick googling on olanzapine, and it appeared he was having a placebo effect. At minimum he'd feel effects in a few days, more likely after a week or two. He had to stop researching after that, too freaked out about having to be on antipsychotics, too much still in disbelief about how he'd done something so drastic yet had no memory of it. Alfred convinced him to stay 'home' from Batman for the rest of the week, which was an unusually easy feat considering how he hadn't taken a voluntary night off since beginning the project years ago. It broke him how upset you'd been, and he knew he wouldn't be able to see Alfred cry again. That was unbearable.

He didn't have much to do; he quickly realized he had been living only for the night. There really wasn't anything to do in the tower; no games (outside of a dusty chess board in Alfred's study), one old television (also in Alfred's study, off to an adjacent corner), no gym (he overextended himself enough as Batman), and the house was generally kempt from Dory's attentive cleaning in a house that didn't need more than dusting anyway.

Alfred told him to skip the meeting this week; Bruce initially hadn’t cared much either way, but realized that wasn't an option after misery frayed his nerves with just half a day of sitting around. In order to go in public, he needed to not be scarred and scabbed to hell; he wanted to walk the grounds, but worried about doing it in the daytime in the state he was in. Your article’s release had also prompted a patch of reporters to hang around his house, increasing his surveillance. Give an inch, they’ll take a mile. He and Alfred briefly discussed the contingency plan they kept at the ready: staged police photos of a nasty car crash on the edge of the grounds, but he couldn't share them yet—he wanted to leave you as much time as possible to soak up the success of the interview. You deserved that much, you deserved more after what he'd put you through. At least once an hour he thought about calling you, and he very nearly did a few times. He worried about you. Were you safe? Did you need anything?

On some level, he theorized focusing so much on you was a coping mechanism to escape his failing mental capacity. The more he focused on you, the less real estate his panic had. Last night had been miserable. He'd stayed awake staring at the ceiling, his mind swirling with shock and fear. He’d wondered if this is what his mom had endured, but he didn’t have the mental fortitude yet to go digging through Arkham Asylum records. He didn’t know if he ever would again, so he simply sat. Watched the clouds move along the skyline. Watched the shrubs sway in the backyard. Followed the occasional crow floating past the windows.

As soon as darkness fell he couldn't contain himself any longer. The nagging feeling of someone he traumatized being alone in it was too much. He grabbed a hoodie and walked to the elevator, sure he could make a free escape through the old subway route. His hand hesitated before pressing the button. What if you didn't want him to visit? What if it was too stressful? He couldn't keep coming over unannounced, it was weird. Not normal. Alfred had heard the metal rustling and walked into the kitchen. His brow furrowed. "I thought you were taking a break from him?"

"I am." He stared at the ground, lost in thought. "Would you call her?"

"Miss Y/N?" Alfred's voice was soft, concerned. "Sure, why?"

Bruce had conveniently kept to himself that you'd been the one to watch him jump. That you were the witness, that you'd called 911. "I want to give her an update."

Alfred pulled out his phone and Bruce walked closer, bridging the gap between them. "Ask if I could talk to her." He didn't blink until you picked up, hiding a wince at how you'd done so before the end of the first ring. You were scared. Desperate.

"Miss Y/N, I hope this isn't a bad time." Alfred paused with the phone to his ear, his expression faltering before he let out a small chuckle. It was hollow. "No, he's alright. He wanted to see if he could speak to you now."

He handed the phone to Bruce, who quickly scurried up the stairs and into his room. He only put the phone to his ear once the door was closed behind him. "Y/N?"

"Bruce." It was so nice to hear your voice when it wasn't panicked. You sounded a bit tired, breathy, but miles better than yesterday. A sigh of relief heaved out of him, to which you had a reflexive response. "Are you okay?" Your voice rose, both in volume and octave.

"Yes. Are you okay?"

"I really don't think it matters,"

He bit back a part of him that wanted to say you were the only thing that mattered. He'd broken you. "Are you?"

You sighed. "Yes. Did you uh,"

"I got the meds."

"Good. Did you take them? Or, one, or, whatever the dose,"

"Yeah." He could hear how clouded your mind was, and it was excruciating being so limited to the phone. He remembered the first week after the murder. His mind had been a hazy minefield, everything running on autopilot. The tears, his limbs, his voice, nothing had been a conscious decision for weeks. Sure, he hadn't died, but you'd thought he had. If… his parents had survived, he figured he would've been in a similar state regardless. He wanted to help you, but he didn't know how.

"How long does it take the medication to work?"

"A few days. Maybe a few weeks." After his parents died, everyone brought him food. Random strangers had brought flowers, and food, and even stuffed toys for him to cuddle with. He'd only kept one, a stuffed dinosaur, now tucked into the back of his linen closet. Alfred checked on him constantly. No longer did he have to do his chores; Dory and Alfred picked up the slack. No longer did he have to deal with hearing his mom demand he eat his veggies and sides before getting another helping of soup, he only had soup. And juice, and soda, and warm blankets fresh out of the dryer. He remembered the warmth. Of the blanket, the soup. Those, paired with the scraggly dino in his arms, were the only things that made a decimal of impact on his devastation. "Do you need anything?"

"No. Do you?"

"Do you want anything?"

"I'm good. What about you?"

He didn't believe it. You were trying to spare him, just like you had by making yourself anonymous. Would it be wrong of him to come over? This late in the evening... probably. But he remembered the nights were the worst part. Alone in the empty darkness. Less cars, less lights, even the reruns on tv were stale at that time. It left no room for distraction. And honestly, he worried if he didn't distract you from your pain, he'd be gridlocked by his.

"Can I stop by?"

Onion, celery, carrots, butter, flour, curry powder, chicken broth, an apple, rice, chicken breast, thyme, and heavy cream. He didn't know how to make much, and Alfred didn't keep much variety around, but you hadn't balked at mulligatawny the first night you'd stayed here, and it was one of the few things he knew how to make without a recipe. It was also one of the few things the old man always kept fresh and stocked, especially now that Bruce was in recovery mode. Most importantly, it was warm. It was only nine, he could get this done before ten, and be gone before midnight. Just in time for you to get tired and go to sleep, without hours spent tossing and turning alone in bed. It was the least he could do for you.

He'd never felt more ridiculous than he did when he opened your door. The backpack was heavy and a reminder that he hadn't asked if he could cook, but assumed he would waltz into your kitchen and work some magic. You invited him in and he went straight to the island, setting down his pack and taking out the supplies. Your face scrunched with confusion. "What are you doing?"

He kept taking out food while he thought of how to phrase it. It was like his mind was slowed down, your apartment a pool of tv static. "I wanted to cook." Pause. "For you." Another pause, and he took out the apple. "It's warm." Fuck, could he have explained it any worse?

He paused and you watched him slowly move to meet your eyes. "Can I?" His hand was hovering above one of the drawers, ready to get to work. "Sure." You didn't understand why he couldn't cook at his house, but you couldn’t complain; still coming down from the nauseating blend of relief and guilt that gnawed at you when you finally saw him in the flesh. Like being attacked by a wave on a hot day; soothing, but bitterly cold at the same time.

You had reassembled the chairs today, and the table. You'd anticipated calling Mar later tonight if she weren’t already at a club, offering to order some takeout and have a movie night. When thinking up a distraction, you certainly hadn't anticipated Chef Bruce appearing with fixings for a mystery meal. Did billionaires even know how to cook? Did billionaire Bruce Wayne ever have to fend for himself in the kitchen? A brief image of him staring confusedly at a box of cereal made your mouth twitch into a grin.

Good. Your humor was still there, thank god. With his back turned to you, facing the burner, you could finally, finally, finally, finally unclench your jaw and drop your shoulders. He was here. It was weird, and uncomfortable, but undeniable. He was here, not hanging from a rafter or god knows where doing god knows what in the city. He was putting butter in a pan, and grabbing a wooden spoon. He was alive.

But... this was still out of character, which raised an orange flag. You waited for him to reach an impasse before speaking, tapping his fingers on the countertop while he watched the rice cook. An apple sat cubed to the left, the chicken sizzling on the back burner. "How are you? Really?"

Bruce needed to toe the line. Too honest and it would shift the focus to him, further distressing you; too dishonest and you'd dismiss it before he finished speaking. His body didn't just ache, it screamed at him. Every step, even every time he spoke, felt like torture. He'd teared up at multiple points between the lobby and your unit. His spirit was entirely crushed, shattered into irredeemable smithereens. He hung his head and let all the air out of his lungs, letting his weight fall into his wrists as he leaned over the stove. "Not great."

It should've pained you to hear that, instead it felt like wind in your sails. He was being honest. You could work with that. Honesty didn't need to be interrogated or sleuthed upon. "How can I help?"

He wanted to say you've done enough and don't want your pity, but it felt too real. You didn't need that tonight, not so close to the event. "Taste the soup and tell me if it needs anything." He prayed you wouldn’t keep asking.

"How would I know?"

"I want it to suit your taste."

"I don't know what it's supposed to taste like." You were hyperaware he hadn't answered you, not in the way you wanted. Maybe it was too close for comfort right now. Maybe all you needed to do was focus on him being here, and ask questions later.

"Pepper, curry flavor. Creamy." He stirred something fragrant on the stovetop.

"What's the apple doing?"

"It's necessary." It felt good talking about something else with you. Something normal. Not Batman, not his legacy, not the attempt. Still, all of it clouded and constricted the conversation, a constant tension you both wittingly ignored. "Smooths the spice."

I barely tasted it that night. Too scary being trapped in the house of one of the most powerful men in the world. You watched as he stirred, chopped, and fluffed. You were brought back home with your parents, watching them make dinner while you sat at the dining table and talked at them. He glanced around and looked at the can of heavy cream. In an instant you were up and grabbing a can opener, desperate to do your part. He instructed you to pour it into the pan, and for a half second he was just another guy; an acquaintance, someone passing through; someone regular, unassuming.

After a few more minutes of sitting around, you grabbed some bowls and spoons. After a quick taste he required you take ("Need to know if I missed something"), he ladled the bowls full, and you both walked slowly, carefully over to the table to set down the steaming soup. Bruce dug in without waiting, while you blowed on a single spoonful until every bit of steam hesitated to rise from it.

He watched you apprehensively. Your eyes widened a bit, and he could see your jaw moving like you were savoring it. "How is it?" It tasted fairly similar to how Alfred made it, which was fairly similar to how his mom had made it. At the very least he hadn't royally fucked up. Who knows, maybe olanzapine changes tastebuds.

You nodded, blowing on another bite. "Mulling it over."

God, that was so droll... it tugged a whispering grin to his lips, his bite slipping back into the bowl at the gentle movement of his dry chuckle.

He was laughing. Not really. Kind of. Weird, but yay! "I've never tasted anything like it. It's good."

"Don't have to placate me."

"It's peppery. Curry. Creamy."

He rolled his eyes and tossed another spoonful into his mouth. "Creative. What's the apple for?"

The tension never left, though you both did your best to selfishly soothe it through dry humor. The most either of you did was grin, breathe a little extra air through your nose. When he wasn't looking your eyes wandered to his purple and green bruises, and the complementary crusting scabs along his neck and hands. You wondered if he was suicidal right now, but wasn't saying anything. When you weren't looking, he studied your body language, hoping it would betray you. Were you scared right now? Did you think this was the weirdest thing ever, like he did? Did you think this was creepy? Was it creepy? Was it helping? Was he helping you?

You both finished and walked your bowls to the sink. He started rinsing them and reached for the dish soap, and you let him for a little. After he pat dry the first bowl, you couldn't sit with this worry on your chest any longer. The food had been warm and energizing, the mood made less intimidating with the joking, and all of it together held your hand as you broached the topic. It made you sick how concerned he was about your wellbeing; yes, he scared you, images of his frenzied, panicked face waking you up in the dead of night, but you hadn't watched him nearly die like he thought. His worry felt like rain on a hundred degree day: unsettling and unwelcome. You inhaled fully, hoping enough oxygen would get to some brave neurons and force the words past your teeth. They caught in your chest and by then he'd finished the second bowl; anxiety palpated your heart, bullying it into silence. You overrode it. "Bruce."

At once he abandoned the silverware and turned toward you. His analytical gaze peppered your face and the fingers that annihilated your cuticles. The stench of something burning singed your nostrils, your eyes tracking the source to the hem of his sweatshirt draped over the hot stove, smoking as small flames burnt through the cotton. Perhaps waiting to be seen, it erupted into a blazing ball of flame. You yelped and jumped toward the sink, grabbing the adjustable faucet and spraying him down. The flames went out, he turned off the burner, and you looked around for some magazines or papers to fan away the tendrils of smoke wafting toward the fire alarm.

"Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

You glanced back and saw Bruce sopping wet, his hair having gotten in the mix too, draped over his eyes; the singed, ripped edges of his shirt that he clutched between his hands. You bit your lip to reign in your laugh. He started hurrying the shirt off his back, and gently shook it out to see if it had juice left in it. That was the kicker, sending you bolting toward your bedroom. You couldn't be laughing at him all the time. Get it together! He's hurting! But the laughs escaped your tight-lipped prison, and soon his shadow was in the doorway. As quickly as you'd laughed, you began to cry. You dropped to your knees at the whiplash; what once was dead, was now making soup in your apartment. Dancing around it wasn't helping, it was exacerbating the pain. He didn't hesitate to walk over, his long legs getting him across the room in only a few strides.

He didn't think you were crying about the fire. He stood helplessly beside you, unable to make a decision on what to do next. Guilt bloomed angry, self-flagellating thoughts, wishing he hadn't ran with his ego and coddled his denial. He placed a light touch to your shoulder and you jumped up. "I'm fine." He didn't say anything, only sat and watched as you struggled to reign in your barrage of tears. Your fingers threatened to go numb, and you attempted to shake the tingles away. "My body just needs to cry and then, then I'm done." You turned away from him and pressed your clammy palms to your cheeks, trying to physically shove the tears back into hiding.

After what seemed like an extended period of sniffling tears, you looked back at him. He was sat on the edge of your bed, his sweatshirt draped over his forearm. You could see more of the deeper wounds on his arms now, which was a viscerally surreal feeling. It was impossible not to be aware of his reputation; it preceded him at every turn, he was correct about that. Something entirely new though was seeing the fallibility so transparently.

Before graduation—and honestly, before seeing him breaking down in the alley—you had practically thought he was immortal. You wouldn't have done such ridiculous, dangerous bullshit as walking through an active crime scene at night if you hadn't internalized his heroism. Until this moment you hadn't realized how much you'd relied on that story; the subconscious reassurance that the Batman provided to Gotham's citizens. The mythical creature unfazed by bullets, incapacitating anyone in its wake. Batman's neutralizing force was so accepted it went unquestioned; now you knew it was because no one truly knew him. You and Alfred were the only people who had. Suddenly, the world felt a lot more intimidating. If you were any less shaken up, you might've laughed at the unmasking of Santa; but even children mourned the loss of magic, and here you were muzzling yourself.

"Can I help?"

You needed to nip this in the bud. It was going to come out however it was going to come out, and you needed to be okay with that. "I, appreciate the effort." It wasn't coming out so easily. Be nice. Be nice. Be nice. "But I want this to stop." I didn't watch you. "You don't want my pity, and I don't want yours." Too harsh, scale back. "The only thing I need is for you to be safe. Alive."

You sounded so much like Alfred that Bruce bit back a snarky retort. Not the time nor the place. Your bed creaked as he stood up. He hated how your words sat in his chest, but there wasn't exactly anything he could do about it. "Okay."

No argument, no fighting. Like you requested something he already vowed to do. He walked past you into the kitchen, and you followed on his heel. You had never been so close to him alone, and never from behind. His back was broad, making his already impressive height even more menacing. Veins bulged under his skin. Swore a tendon twitched in his forearm every time he stepped on his left foot. If he had turned for the door you might have yelped, but he just finished the dishes in silence while you lingered, then sat on the couch. If someone walked in right now, and was one of the few humans who didn't know about Bruce Wayne, they might think this looked normal. It couldn't feel more foreign.

You didn't wait half a second after the sink turned off to fill the space. From your perch on the end of the couch, across the room. "Will you be safe once you leave?"

Like a knife scraping under his fingernails. So scared he wouldn't be alive the next morning. Skittish. "Yes." He wasn't looking back at you, wishing he hadn't already put down the dish towel so he'd have something to wring. "I promise."

What good's a promise if he's six feet under? Your life had become so singular so quickly, and you were anxious for it to get back to its usual painful mediocrity. "Really?"

Ugh. He turned to face you and followed your eyes searching the carpet. He sighed away his animosity, knowing the rage seeping into his chest was directed at himself; it was nothing greater than embellished fear. He knew this, was well acquainted with it. Maybe he did need to go back to therapy. He leaned his hip against the counter and winced, jamming straight into a blackened, split bruise. He grabbed his hoodie from where it was slung across the edge of the counter, grimacing at the effort only when his face was obscured. “Really.” Within seconds he was at the door, his hand on the handle. He noticed your eyes flash in his periphery, and his entire body constricted at the sight. He forced himself to meet your eyes. It was strenuous. He figured he needed to warn you. "Alfred and I have emergency plans for times like these. Whatever you read in the news, it's a cover-up." He popped open the door, hesitating on the departure. The air was thick with emotional exhaust. "I'll see you on Thursday?"

You nodded, relieved he was being more covert with his concern. Sugaring the medicine. "See you on Thursday."

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yogurtkags · 6 months ago

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❝ IF NOT FOR YOU ❞ — semi eita

— 01. hunnie

"you’re the air in my lungs, the deep inhale of every line or sung that will be sung. you’re the world in empty space and all alone with you sounds like a pretty nice place."

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laying on your stomach, you’re propped up on your elbows and annotating the lyrics you’ve scribbled in your notebook. numerous circles and underlines scattered over the cream pages make them perpetually unreadable by anyone other than you, handwriting a bit more illegible than your usual cursive.

honestly you’re exhausted, sleep hasn’t been coming easy to you in the last couple of nights, tossing and turning in plush ivory sheets while the sun slowly inches its way to the horizon. your last straw was not being able to have a coffee before your 8AM class this morning, energy levels rock bottom.

but there’s nothing quite like the sudden spark of inspiration, crashing into you headfirst like a truck that’s lost control on the freeway. you were stuck on this song for weeks and almost put it on the chopping block after not being able to expound on the initial ideas, casting it to the back of your mind in favour of others. but something just clicked and you’re giddy with excitement, not even fatigue being able to stop you at this moment as you brainstorm melodies and hum quietly to yourself while awaiting eita’s arrival.

speak of the devil, the door to your room flings open haphazardy and bounces off the wall with impact. you’re jolted out of your reverie to see the man of the hour with his hands full, scrambling to get up and help him.

“jesus christ, be more gentle with the door, will you?” you chided, reaching forward to take the drinks out of his hands, placing them on your nightstand. "i'm making you pay for damages if our landlord comes looking for me."

“well i’m sorry, i would’ve been if i didn’t have my hands full.”

turning around, you come face to face with semi eita draping his jacket over your chair and running a hand through his long ashy grey locks with a sigh. even wind-swept and disheveled, he’s still a sight for sore eyes, and you hate that he’s always been the prettiest boy, even since you were kids.

climbing back into bed, you pat the space next to you and he follows, plopping himself down on the soft mattress and reaching for your guitar. "so, show me what you got in that lovely head of yours."

while fiddling with the steel strings, he just listens. to you eagerly talking him through spilled ink on the lined paper of your journal, to you vocalising a melody you came up with, to you opening up your laptop and playing around with some beats on the production software. he just stares and listens, nodding once in a while to affirm that he’s paying attention.

his hands move on autopilot as he plucks a tune, fingertips dancing across frets with the grace of a ballet dancer rehearsing a routine for the umpteenth time as he tries to play what you’re putting down. he makes it look so effortless, and you can’t help but let a smile break out across your face, remembering how he struggled as kid and oh, how far he’s come.

it’s taking everything in him to resist reaching over to caress your cheek and just kiss you already with the way you’re looking at him, like he himself plucked the stars from the sky. it stirs a sense of possessiveness that he never knew was within him, not even wanting to entertain thoughts of you looking at others like that. please, reserve that smile only for me.

the sun seeping through the sheer curtains casts a veil of light on the soft angles of your face, giving the illusion of a glow from within. eita finds you the most beautiful when you’re doing what you love, in your element, even in old sweats and a 90s horror graphic tee with holes from wear and tear, and he can’t tear his eyes away from you.

you have the same look on your face from when he first heard you sing all those years ago. serene, carefree, yet there’s a tinge of darkness that would’ve easily been hidden behind layers of delight and joyous desposition if only he hadn’t known you so well. he can't quite put a pin on it just yet, but he'll ask you about it some other time. something's definitely bothering you, but now's not the time, let's not burst her bubble.

"ei, you good there?" snapping your fingers in front of his face, you shoot him a playful glare with an eyebrow raised, "don't tell me you weren't listening."

with a click of his tongue, eita scoffs, "how dare you accuse me of such treachery." who is he kidding, he was totally caught staring at you like a lovesick puppy.

leaning forward to take the pen resting atop your notebook, he lets his bangs fall to mask his slightly reddening cheeks. his arm rests on your knee, hands and fingers outstretched trying to reach that damned pen and you stifle a laugh at the way his fingers wriggle, as if it’ll help reduce the distance — unlucky enough for him, it does not.

slapping his arm away, you hand the coveted pen to him with a twin set of matching warmed cheeks, silly boy.

“so as i was saying,” he clears his throat sheepishly and trails off without meeting your eyes , adding some of his own personal labels and thoughts onto the pages with care and precision, “i was thinking for this verse, we could do…”

you notice his efforts at changing the subject and decide not to hold it against him for now, not that you were complaining. as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you didn’t hate being in such close proximity to him. you chalk it up to being comfortable with him after all these years of being joined at the hip, but i don’t think i’m supposed to be feeling shy if that’s the case.

bouncing ideas off each other is like second nature, having done this countless times. it’s all fun and games, silly chatter half of the time, but the both of you take this, music, seriously, especially something that you’re creating by hand. it’s like you speak the same language, mind body and soul at the same wavelength and frequency as you pour your heart out into this song.

every song that you write together, every creation, is a love letter to the promise you made to each other, and with each one, more and more of your hearts intertwine.

by the end of it, your bed is scattered with sheets of paper, a mess mirroring the current state of your heart, but one thing is sure — whatever you do, it’ll be good, as long as you do it together.

running through the finalised ensemble of lyrics one more time and taking in every written word, you muse to yourself, this is an ode to you, semi eita.

you are also in deep, deep shit.

ignore timetamps!

— fun facts.

♫ … the gc happened because all four of them took portugese for a compulsory class & formed a study group with shoyo tutoring them (him being allowed to take that class was basically condoned cheating)

♫ … hitoka, shoyo & kenma met first in high school but you fit well into the dynamic and they adopted you into the roomies

♫ … you post short covers & acoustic demos on twt, and kenma helped you gain traction by using them as stream bgm

♫ … eita mostly does guitar & "if this song was pop punk" content, has a decent following because he's good (and hot — is very much in denial about it)

taglist. open (link to form) @wyrcan @froyaoya @cheesypuffkins87 @peachyugoose @tetzoro @twiishaa

notes. introducing a bit more of the present day dynamic! still doing a bit of world building ehe. this is all new to me LOL I HOPE I’M DOING OKAY reblogs & interactions are always appreciated !

#ᯓ★ : written in the stars !#semi eita #semi x reader #semi eita x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #dividers: @/roseraris

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simonz-angel · 1 month ago

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hello hellooo my angelzzz 😋

logging in to see that ive somehow gathered 500 of your beautiful beings!! AHH so so SO insane to me really.

i wanna thank each n every one of my sweet loves out there from the bottom of my heart. i started to write as a lil hobby and an escape from the horrors of day to day life and to be given this in return is so beautiful to me.

n to know that people out there do truly enjoy what i write to leave a follow or even a like warms my heart full. thank you my angels!!

i feel like there’s someway i should do a lil celebration cuz i always see cutesy lil blogs doing that, buuuuutttt im not sureeeee

anyways, again n again thank you hunnies kisses and hugs and love to all of you beautiful babes!! 💕

feel free to talk wimmie a lil in the chat, id love to hear from some of you angels and get to know yall!

#divider by miufresita #dividers by dollywons #simonz-angel #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #simon ghost

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s0ulsniper · 2 years ago

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Albert aretz x gn!reader

Request: "Babes I need a flamingo x reader with 2 and 17. The opportunity for fluff is so strong 😍😍🤞🏻🤞🏻"

prompts:

2- "It's so hard to sit here close to you and not kiss you."

17- "It's too cold ! Come back !"

word count: 567

ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩

it was a brutal time in the middle of November, snowing early, making it seem that Christmas would be a blizzard.

albert had taken you to a type of creator meet up, where they all had dinner and talked about video plans, collabs, and just having a good time.

you guys were seated in a both with kaden and jake, chatting when you made it in and sat down.

you could feel albert's hand resting on your thigh, reassuring you he's there.

"would you like anything to drink, y/n/n?" you suddenly hear him ask, and look over to see him leaning towards you.

"Um, I'll have a f/d, please." you reply nodding towards the waiter.

"and I'll just have a sprite, please." Albert answers.

through out the night, many people came over to greet your group, and talk but you also felt Albert tapping your knee in a rhythm or gently squeezing every now and again.

of course, albert let you know that you guys had to be a little professional because of the creators around, but it seemed he was starting to get more handsy the more time went on.

"dude, albert- we should all get on a horror game tomorrow. we haven't played all four of us in awhile."

you nod and Albert agrees, telling him tomorrow would be great.

"that would be fun, honestly the best part would be hearing Albert scream the whole game." you recall and they laugh at your remark, recalling all the time he did.

"like you're any better than me." albert jokes.

you roll yours eyes and continue on talking about what the game should be.

jake and kaden get up to go talk to a creator they fangirl over and it leaves just you and albert in the booth.

he turns to you,

"you know, it's so hard to sit here so close to you and not kiss you." he whispers against your ear, making sure you hear it with the loud volume of people around.

you feel your face get hot, the air around you becomes heavy, making Albert smile in satisfaction.

"glad my plan is working." you laugh, laying your head against his shoulder and flipping his hand from your thigh to intertwine your fingers.

he feels his heart short circuit, beaten at his own game.

"got nothing to say baby?" you ask and he opens his mouth to speak, but settles for getting revenge later.

you feel all of the f/d you've been chugging down, and decide to go to the restroom.

"Albert, hunny, let me get up. I need to go to the restroom."

you hear him groan and shake his head, his grip on your hand tighten.

"it'll be just a few minutes, I'm not going to run away." you reassure.

he whines but gets up a couple seconds later, his hand falling to your lower back to help you out.

"I already regret it." he shivers. "Come back, it's colddd."

you smile back at him and make your way to the bathroom, hurrying to make sure he doesn't freeze to death.

when you get back, jake and kaden are sat back in their booths, distracting Albert of his oh so terrible fate.

albert doesn't let go of you for the rest of the night, not caring if other people notice.

You're his and he loved to show it.

ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩

TAGS: @yeehawbrothers @ilovelyyoungie @dogdevourer

#albert aretz #albert aretz x reader #albert x reader #flamingo #flamingo x reader #youtuber x reader #youtube #x reader

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formula-fun · 1 year ago

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im so sorry to everyone who wants charles to leave ferrari but i think its soooooo sexy every time some rich old man gives an interview to complain about how he wouldn't leave the scuderia to join their team...its called loyalty hunny sorry.....the scuderia is an elder god a real eldritch horror and she is in love with him.........he is devoted to her even tho she eats mens hearts out for fun.........everyone is trying to woo her but he is the only one insane enough to pull it off.......helmut marko im sorry you dont understand what love is. lawrence stroll im sorry you dont understand either. you cannot buy passion you see. blood is rosso corsa

#charles leclerc

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cillians-sweetheart · 30 days ago

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𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓾𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 ☣︎ Chapter 30

Description: Johnathan Crane x Patient Reader. An 18 year old girl suffers from a mental disorder that Dr Crane takes an interest in, but It isn't just the disorder that catches his eye. Their love becomes so strong it drives her dangerously mad... more mad then she or him could ever imagine.

ROMANCE + HORROR + SMUT STORY

No Batman and not everything about crane that's mentioned is correct to the actual character in DC.

TW: Violence, Sexual Content, Alcohol/Drug Use, Gore, Mental Illness, Parental Issues, Smut, Murder, Extreme Kinks (dom/crane, blood, choking, hair pulling, spanking, age gap, toys, dub-con and daddy kink) and Mention of Abuse, Assault and SA.

Not all warnings shown will be used in this exact chapter! Bold warnings are some to be expected throughout the chapter below!

Johnathan ripped his mask from his face as we were now back in privacy. I handed him the mall I had gotten and he began to quickly rip them open. His eyes scanned quickly over every word. A look in his eyes showed he still wasn't satisfied by what he saw.

"what's wrong hunny?" I held onto his bicep, lightly running my fingertips over his blazer sleeve.

"I have a trial tomorrow and I still have not gotten anything from the judge with any further information."

"Trial? You didn't tell me you had a trial?"

"Yeah because you don't need to worry about my work life."

"Who's it for?"

"Some thug who works for me. I make it my deal to get him out of jail time." Johnathan slammed the useless letters onto the kitchen island and rubbed his forehead.

I pulled myself into his arm and cuddled to it. "Do you want me to come with you?" I asked softly.

"No No. It's not safe."

"Not safe how?"

"I don't need you being anywheres near the public unless it is my work."

"But there will be police there, no one will hurt me."

"That's the problem. The police."

"Oh..."

"Sorry sweetheart." Johnathan tussled my hair around while grinning at me reassuringly.

Tomorrow

"Mr Gray. You have been brought here to my court today with charges of drug trafficking, drug possession, aggravated assault, 2 counts of murder and possession of multiple illegal weapons. My Finch, please come to the whiteness stand." The Judge spoke as the opposing lawyer, Mr Finch stood.

"Thank you your honour" He bowed stepping into the stand. "In my belief, My Gray is a sociopathic threat to our society. Our streets of Gotham were in deep harm because of this mans thoughtless crimes. Many innocent lives were taken and/or harmed. I say My Gray is a perfect candidate for life in prison. With no parole."

"Objection!" Mr Thatcher, Mr Grays lawyer, spat out while standing. "My client has been recently admitted to experiencing psychotic type symptoms, making his actions completely unpredictable. Yes he is dangerous but, your honour, he is unable to read the rights and wrongs of our world, due to his possible condition. Mr Gray here is sick and does not deserve a punishment for his illness. As human rights go, he should be evaluated into his mental health before a prison sentence is made."

The Judge sighed and laid his hands flat onto the platform in front of him. "Very well. Mr Finch, is there anything you wish to add?"

He thought for a moment. "No your honour."

"You may be dismissed."

"Thank you your honour." He bowed again before returning to the opposing side of Mr Thatcher.

"Any more words? Mr Thatcher." The Judge raised his head.

"No your honour."

"Thank you. Dr Crane, please step forward."

Johnathan came from the gallery where people of the public and the families of Mr Gray sat. He straightened his tie then proceeded to sit at the whiteness stand.

"In my opinion, Mr Gray is as much a danger to himself as to others. And prison is probably not the best environment for his rehabilitation."

"Objection your honour!" Mr Finch stood. "This man is just as guilty as the accused. I've done some review on Dr Crane here's cases and it seems that there's been many of his thugs put into his asylum with no real signs of psychosis."

"I can assure you Mr Finch, my patients are very well ill." He pushed his glasses up from the bridge of his nose. "I'd love if you came and took a look for yourself."

"Okay Okay." The Judge interrupted. "Dr Crane. Please, continue"

"Thank you." Johnathan continued. "I will have Mr Gray admitted into my ward until he is throughly investigated for psychosis. And I'm sure I will not disappoint you Mr Finch with my diagnosis. As I am the best doctor Mr Gray will find in Gotham."

"Your honour I apologize but this man is acting like an imbecile. It is clear there are no signs of psychosis in Mr Gray."

"And I apologize to say you Mr Finch, are not the one with a medical degree. Yes?"

"Alright." The Judge slammed him hands down. "Mr Gray will be sentenced under investigation to Arkham Asylum until further notice on his mental stability." His mallet came down confirming the sentence. "Dr Crane, you may be dismissed."

"Thank you your honour." He smirked giving a devious look to Mr Finch.

During Johnathan's trial I stayed home watching the television and looking at Johnathan's weird books. I missed him terribly, so much it made me feel physically ill. My head hurt and I felt empty inside. All the channels on his television were medical documentaries, the news and some weird science show where they dissected animals. Nothing was pleasing to me so I just turned it off and went to the bedroom to lay down. Hopefully I was able to let my headache fade on its own. In the bedroom I snuggled myself into his side of the bed; As I always did when he was gone. His pillow smelt of his hair and the blankets smelt of his cologne. I closed my eyes pulling the blanket over my shoulders.

The time passed very quickly. Within of what felt like 10 minutes was really several hours. By the time the front door opened, it was already 8pm. I was half asleep in bed as the sun just began to set. Johnathan kneeled down beside the bed watching me as I slept. He entered the house so quietly I didn't even know he was home.

While I was asleep I began to dream of my mother again. Her tormenting me and screaming at me for killing her. Maybe the drama with the police dialled down but she didn't. She still haunted me every time I closed my eyes.

Suddenly my dream paused and all I saw in my mind was black. I began to feel something that slowly woke me. I squirmed and groaned before I jumped awake. Johnathan was in front of me kissing my face while I slept. My eyes opened and he backed away quickly, pretending he wasn't just kissing my cheeks and forehead. When I saw his face I was suddenly very awake as I jumped at him wrapping my arms around his neck and pushing my face against his. "Johnathan!" I cuddled my face close to his, giving him millions of kisses on his cheek.

"Yes Hi" He pulled his face away and sat onto the bed next to me.

"I missed you so much" I whined grabbing his arm and pulled him to me.

"I missed you too hunny."

"Come here!" I pulled him harder onto the bed so he was laying down next to me. I instantly crawled on top of him and snuggled myself as close as I could to him. I laid on his chest while I looked onto his face, touching it gently with my fingers. "How did it go? Did you win?"

"I'm not a lawyer sweetheart. I can't win."

I took his glasses off him and threw them on the nightstand. "I know but did you get the results you wanted?" I laid my cheek on his, his other cheek being rubbed by my hand. He seemed to feel a bit overstimulated by all the touching but I couldn't help myself. He looked so sweet and felt so soft like a baby.

"Yeah. It went well."

"Aw I'm glad" I kissed his plump lips. "And I just missed you so much.." I pouted.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm"

"Aw you missed daddy?" He smirked, I nodded. "How sweet. Were you good while I was gone?"

"Yes" I moved my head down to rest in the crook of his neck. I deeply inhaled his musky cologne. My tiredness returned as I felt myself melting into him, finally feeling fulfilled by his presence.

"The lobby's filled with police.." Johnathan whispered catching me off guard. I lifted my head up and looked into his eyes.

"What?"

"Yeah but you'll be okay"

"Will you?"

"Yeah most likely. I've been in court all day remember?" He smirked touching my cheek.

"You need to be more careful. If you get taken away who will help proceed with this mission of yours."

"I won't get taken away. The scarecrow is never caught my sweet." He pushed my head down to his lips, kissing my forehead. "And if you'd stop putting yourself in situations like this I wouldn't need to blow people's brains"

"I know... but you look cute while doing it" I blushed.

"I'm not cute."

"Yes you are"

"No, I am well proportioned."

"Same thing." I kissed his cheek. "I'm tired I wanna go to bed now." I rolled off of him and pulled the black duvet over my shoulders.

"Alright." Johnathan sat up from the bed and pushed himself up. I watched him, peaking over the covers, as he began to pull his tie off. He threw it into the closet and began undoing his blazer, then pulling off his knitted sweater underneath. The process of him undressing was always better than just seeing him undressed. The way his abdomen looked as he stretched his arms above his head; Giving the perfect view of his V line coming up from his low waisted pants. He never liked it when I watched so I pretending not too and peaked through one eye.

Johnathan was my sexual awakening. I never felt lust for a man or even myself before him. But the day his hands slid down and between my thighs I've never felt the same. Suddenly after that the male anatomy was all I thought about, and all I wanted. Johnathan portrayed the look of a man better than any I've met before. He looked and acted more masculine than any boy I've seen. But that's probably because he wasn't a boy, he was a man.

#johnathan crane #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #batman begins #cillian murphy smut #batman #dr crane #johnathan crane fic #johnathan crane smut #johnathan crane x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian fic #cillian fanfic #cillian murphy x you

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witchinatree · 10 months ago

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magnus protocols episode 9 recap

honestly i kinda wish these released on like friday.. i'm so busy all the time i almost didn't listen today 💔💔

but we're ROLLING WITH IT get it bc the episode title and i'm rolling with the episodes being thursdays.. get it..

sam doing pointless paperwork because it's compelling babe please stop

and they're so obviously magnus institute bait you're actually joking sam please hunny please

YES CELIA PLEASE SAVE HIM PLEASE MAKE HIM STOP RESEARCHING IT

god dammit jonathan please stop dooming sam to the horrors also did he say artifact? like sasha's least favorite place? artifact storage?

why does the transcript say "played with enough bones" instead of "dice" ? is that just a mistake orrrr...

kinda interesting how jon's reading this statement about being unwillingly given this damaging power and using it to hurt others for his own gain.. 🤗 season 3 core!!!!!!!

oh yeah and it ends with the guy giving in to the power and dying alright

I KNEWWW TEDDY WASN'T GETTING OUT THAT EASY!!! thats actually not good now that i think about it

ohhh... there ARE feelings there... alice no please i love you too much to lose you to this romance

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO DID THE RED CANARY TEACH YOU NOTHING!!! NOTHING!!!!!

i am SO upset you can't you CAN'T not my wife :( please don't take my wife from me 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

#AAAGGHHHHH #GAGGHHHHHHH #THE ROMANTIC TENSION TOO #I WOULD NOT. BE MAD IF SAM AND ALICE GOT BACK TOGETHER #THERES SO MUCH ROMANCE POTENTIAL AND THATS WHAT SCARES ME #DO YOU GUYS REMEMBER THE ROMANCE IN TMA? AND HOW THAT WORKED OUT? THERE WAS ONE COUPLE LEFT STANDING AND ONE OF THEM BLINDED HERSELF #ITS SO OVER #tmagp #the magnus protocol #magnus protocol #the magnus pod #tmagp spoilers #sam khalid #alice dyer #jon sims #teddy tmagp #celia ripley #fen blogs tmagp

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starssecret · 1 year ago

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Y/N! These are my designs for Y/N to create a sense of continuity lol so I can still use some descriptive words lol

Hey! I have more information out now about them and their partners!

I’ve nicknamed Y/N after what pet names they’re called. So it wouldn’t get repetitive with Y/N and I’m taking these to be as Gender neutral as possible. But there are only so many names T~T

left to right- top to bottom:

Starshine and Sunshine for Classic

Buns and Hunny for Underswap

Doll and Prince/ss for underfell

Darling and Angel for Swapfell

Lamb and Sugar for Horrortale

Boba and Cocoa for FellSwapGold

under the cut for more!

In a perfect world- I would have a more feminine and a masculine one. But unfortunately I am but one person and 24 designs is a lot T~T so I went for smth androgynous. Though- I wish I could do all of them with hairstyles in both feminine, Masculine, and in both white and poc hair. I have such cute ideas T~T but again- time lol (feel free to ask what they are tho lol)

I tried my hardest to make these match the skelly of choice best I could lol, they're at least color picked lol. And these are supposed to be them like, within the first while of reseting underground. So what they look like for majority of the story. Though I think some of them need a bit of explanation lol (Like the horrors)

And actually, I had done what was at the time, my sona, long time ago in outfits pretty close though mine were a bit feminine to be nuetral. So I actually had some designs in mind when I started! And the nicknames are based on ones I already had in mind lol. So technically Skelly matches Y/N not the other way around lol.

I'm also making these with the assumption they live in Snowdin and it is cold. So that's why it's all pretty covering.

Ok now onto the individual commentary lol

UT:

But ok having matching space names with Meteorite is so cute is it not??? And obviously you're his little starshine <3. I love that I got to incorporate the fluff from his hoodie strings with the earmuffs. I think thats cute <3 and I almost made them pink lol, but to match I went with that grey lol

Sunshine's also a good one, because I think to match up, or even keep up with Rocket you got to be pretty upbeat lol, so Sunshine fits perfectly, and still vaguely matches lol. The outfit is also pretty solid! Still color block

US:

Buns <3 I think Buns and Lucky match pretty well, since Buns is close to and/or short for Bunny, and Rabits foot being Lucky- pretty close match! (Also if you use Bunny, Lucky, Bee, and Hunny, they all almost rhyme lol) But another sporty type! Or again at least upbeat! So a kind of joggers outfit so they don't freeze lol, tho Buns seems like an airy kind of person tbh, so light clothes above ground lol

Hunny and Bee just made so much sense lol, almost a no brainer. Even better, Bee is a super domestic type, so he would so call his S/O Hunny, idk why I chose to spell it Hunny, but I did and it stuck lol. I also love the parka for Hunny, I know the more obvious choice would be for doll, but I think it works well for Hunny and Bee's cozy vibe <3

UF:

Doll- this is one of the names I know is a bit feminine, but idk what else to really use? Shadow is the type to call you 'Doll, Sweetheart, ect' but Sweetheart didn't seem like a good nickname, so I went Doll. And with Doll's design I'm still a little ehhhh on, but it needs to be gender neutral so it's what I got lol. Originally Doll had an off the shoulder sweater, with the same knitting's pattern down the front, so I had to bring up the neckline lol. But in turn I did give Doll thumb holes in the sweater so like only their fingers show through the top of the sleeve cuff <3 Oh and the collar is to match a head cannon that I like about collars in fell culture showing that someone is taking care of the person wearing it. S/O would be given one quickly to help keep them safe.

Prince/ss was another one that was little difficult, but I think the slash fixes it- at least imo if y'all think otherwise lemme know lol. But Knight is very chivalrous and formal lol, so only the fanciest nicknames for his beloved <3. The outfit was easy though lol, with the general characterization I have for Prince/ss, being that overtime underground they become confident and capable to handle themselves with training under Knight, something bold and kind of aggressive was right for them. Prince/ss has a collar for the same reason Doll does.

SF:

Darling~ easy name choice, something sweet and classy lol matches Chardonnay just right lol, maybe not in theme, but in style. Their outfit was a little more difficult to do so it was different enough from Chardonnay but still matches, and is gender neutral lol. But I settled for tying the jacket in a knot at the waist. If I wasn't jsut doing half bodies rn- I might of made them a small top big pants lol, but also cold lol Darling has a fancy collar lol, Chardonnay is big into jewelry, so obviously he only gives the best lol, it's also got silver and some metal in it to match him lol.

Angel was also a pretty easy name, Silver thinks very highly of his S/O and that they're much better than he deserves, so Angel was a fitting name. Now their outfit was also pretty easy- but I do have some story with it lol. So I've mentioned Silver's underground issues, in the skelly intro post. So underground he's pretty distant underground, doesn't even really believe you're there. So it causes a little heartache, and you're mostly assisted by Chardonnay (who is happy to help the person who got his brother clean at one point-) Angel does have a collar but you can't quite see it, but it's a small thin black one from Chardonnay.

HT:

Now with Lamb things get funky lol, the name was pretty easy, it's not my favorite one, but I think it works lol. But they're already so torn up??? The way I'm setting HT is that they get in some trouble on the way back to the HT bros house, and with Lamb finding Pumpkin quickly they get out better than Sugar. Still scarred but not as bad.

Sugar however was not as lucky- it took Sugar longer to find Muffin, though they did find Muffin first as both brothers were out that day. And Sugar got into more trouble for longer and lost an eye. (Just an aside- but any hairstyle with Sugar has the hair pulled back on the side with the good eye so they can see as much as they can) Sugar's name is cute tho <3 Muffin- even tho being affected by the 'food' is still very sweet, and will still call you sweet things <3 and obviously food is very important to the HT bros so its a high compliment too lol

FSG:

Boba- this one took forever name wise, I thought about smth like Champagne for awhile, but thought it was too many wine names lol. I also tried bubbles or bubbly to reference Champagne but it never worked. I thought about coffee or things like juice, but settle on Boba, like Boba tea, so all the FSG people have drink themed names lol. Outfit was easier though lol, Long overcoat to keep warm, and basic black shirt and dress pants to be formal but still neutral.

Cocoa was an easy name, I thought of it one day and it stuck so hard lol, and it's so cute along side Coffee Bean <3 Outfit I saw while looking for an outfit for Boba and went Oh!!! Cocoa outfit!!! lol It matches Coffee super well too I think <3

Whew! All the Y/N's done! Again feel free to ask questions about their story, personality, ect! Though I hope to make posts about it, these posts take a long time lol (I might roll them out based on AU to make it easier lol) But happy to have these done and out there! :D

#ut au #bad reset best outcome #Y/N #sans x y/n #papyrus x y/n #Undertale #Underswap #Underfell #Swapfell #Horrortale #Fellswap gold

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kingofpopmj · 10 months ago

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Hi! Just wanted to say I really enjoy your writing and I always look forward to your posts. I was wondering what your favorite MJ short film was? Mine is personally bad (man looked so good in it) but I always thought it was nice to actually see Michael’s acting ability for once (especially in a more dramatic roll) I kinda wish he branched out in terms of acting. <3

Hi hunni! Thank you so much!! 🤍

Oh, that’s a great question!

Bad is a great choice. It’s my favorite as well. The storyline is beautifully executed and he did so well as his character. He seemed so proud of it too and the fact that it was inspired by a real person makes me respect it even more.

Yes, he looked so good! He looks good in everything.. 🥹

That outfit makes my heart skip a beat.. the red strip down his pants— I love it haha 🤣

Other favorites of mine would be Thriller & Ghosts. I’m a sucker for horror lol

#michael jackson #michael joseph jackson #king of pop

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chimkinbunnii · 2 years ago

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Excuse me hello to my beloved sweeties

I am @ ing peeps who have commented, liked and reblogged my stuff!

Some peeps will be mentioned more than once, so beware!

Peeps that commented!

@nyx-horror-2360 @fluffbeast7 @jenjenweeeee @hunni-hive @art1sty

I love you all, your comments are appreciated as they give me motivation!

Peeps that liked!

@nyx-horror-2360 @fluffbeast7 @jenjenweeeee @art1sty @spotlightstudios @flingthebook @maudiemoods @masterfisherer @basyacriptid @rockstar-ruby @randomweirdoxd @errorhalo @cupophrogs @just-a-drawing-bean @modellingispainge @meowkid1000 @saternsky @xitsenhella @linuxealcipher @lovecore-kangaroo @caliane3785 @blood-moon-things @rachysaurus @immelyna-14-tb @clemontheskeleton @crypticpige @jezy @lolabunny650 @corpserabbit @rainbowwacko @jenjenweeeee @r4ianec @bordonfreeman @cody-welsh @myososheep @woolysstuff @vladie @procrastinating-sadness @peiskosa @gaypinebabe @sp00ky3clipse

You liking my posts means a lot, as it let's me know ymy stuff is good and worth looking at!

Peeps that reblogged!

@spotlightstudios @flingthebook @basyacriptid @art1sty @bi-casualpapayas @xitsensunmoon @maudiemoods

Reblogging my posts helps me get my art out there, so thank you!

Thank you for your support! It means so much, and I'm happy that my stuff pleases you!

#that was a long post #sorry for it aking a couple of hours #currently on vacation until friday (in eastern usa)#i did get to see a snake though!!#anyways time for the tags to sort my posts #chimkin stfu #chimkin asks you a question

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lady-ashfade · 10 months ago

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Can I request oneshot of yandere Muzan Kibutsuji and fem s/o who is Tanjiro and Nezuko's older sister; she is gentle, soft spoken, and submissive. When he captured her (much to her sibling's horror) and explains that he loves her and wants her to be his wife and that it's impossible to escape him she had no choice but to accept him. He had turned her into a demon after she almost died giving birth to his hybrid daughter please?

Hello hunny!!

Muzan is not on my list, birth difficulties are a no no, and demon slayer is closed!! I have a few other fandoms open and rules that you can find on my page so I can maybe do you request next time.

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hunniemawa · 2 years ago

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🌼 About Me! 🌼

📝 [My Name and Pronouns Are...] 📝

Hunnie is what I call my regressed self, while my big self is Honey! I use she/they/it pronouns! :3

🍼 [The Kinds of Regression I Do Is...] 🍼

I do a mix of agere, petre, and middlespace! I regress due to not being able to remember my childhood, and because of some traumas that happened in my late childhood. Regression is a great way for me to rewrite what happened and give myself the soft parenting that I desperately needed. It’s completely sfw and helps me relax, have fun, and relearn how to take care of myself.

🐻 [Things About My Regression Is...] 🐻

My little age range is 0-5. Because I’m also otherkin, I act like a nature-obsessed child with a love for coziness. When I’m feeling more pet regressed, I become a grizzly bear cub! My regressed self loves teddy bears, feeling safe, fruits, Bluey, Little Bear, Kipper the Dog, We Bare Bears, coloring, cuddling, flowers, and nature walks. But, she doesn’t like yelling, swearing, horror, or Halloween :c

🌈 [Things About My Middlespace Is...] 🌈

My middlespace age range is 10-13! I like to reflect on all the things that I loved as an adolescent! Like Minecraft, Nickelodeon, YouTube, Animal Crossing, cute animals, dogs, pink, rainbows, pop music, Fnaf, Hello Kitty, and drawing! It’s a lot more rare for me to go into middlespace, so because of that, I may not post about it much. But, just know that I do go through it! ^^

💭 [This Blog Will Be For...] 💭

Agere boards, agere thoughts, and reblogging agere content that makes me happy! If you’re a fan of cozy aesthetics, cottagecore, bears, and nature, you’ve come to just the right blog!

✏️ [Last Things To Note Are...] ✏️

- My big self identifies as asexual, and I enjoy age regression because it provides a non-sexual safe space for me. So, please keep any icky talk as far away from me as possible 💛

- I’m NOT looking for a caregiver at the moment!

- Any blogs related to nsfw or hate speech will be blocked 🚫

- *Please* no interactions from Vivziepop fans. Their works caused a huge trauma for me and if you do interact, you’ll be blocked 🚫

#age regression #age dreaming #sfw agere #sfw petre #pet regression #age regressor #pet regressor

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gamersalad · 2 years ago

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32 Hours of VRChat - Your 2nd Reality

Today I will introduce you to the game in the VR Category which is VRChat!

VRChat is a Virtual World social game created by Graham Gaylor and Jesse Joudrey developed and published by VRChat Inc. It was first released on January 16, 2014 as an app for the Oculus Rift then released on Steam on February 1, 2017. It’s a place to meet all kinds of people from around the globe in a virtual environment. VRChat’s content are created by its amazing community creating avatars, worlds, games and more. It’s a game with thousands of games inside it. From scenic worlds to game worlds that will blow your mind. And the best part? It’s free to play!You can play the game even without a VR, with just your PC on desktop mode. You can also play it without a PC using a standalone VR like the Quest 2 or Pico 4.

First up, in VRChat you can be who you want to be! Be your popular anime, game, or movie character. You can choose your own gender from being a girl, boy, and other genders. You can join different types of fandoms and groups from Warhammer, Undertale, FNAF, roleplayers, ravers, hobbyist or tech enthusiasts, no matter your taste you’ll find a place for you. Here you have the freedom to be who you are and find people the same as you.

Next up, VRChat worlds that blow your mind. You’ll find worlds here that can make you appreciate scenes or landscapes that are so beautifully created in 3D. You can also visit VR cities from different parts of the globe like the busy streets of Tokyo to the romantic city of Paris. You can also find worlds that are so mesmerizing, creative, trippy, or out of this world.

Then we go to the games. VRChat has hundreds of games that people can play. From recreated games like Among Us, prop hunting, to games like Prison Escape, Zombie Tag, & Murder Mystery. There’s definitely a lot of unique games to play here. There’s also community created worlds such as Devouring, Pop Escape, Hunni’s Horror Maps and also the Award-Winning game Magic Heist. If you have a game idea you have the freedom to create your own game here as long as you have knowledge of coding, blender and Unity.

And Lastly, In VRChat you can live in the virtual space like you’re in another world. People who want to feel the escapism or people who just want to be themselves can live their life here. People are so immersed that you can find love, marry people, sleep in VR, join rave parties, drink with friends and even join live stage shows. There was a documentary made about a couple that met in VRChat and started a family. Finding love virtually is now made easier in VR because you can see a physical representation of your loved ones.

Since VR is like a 2nd world, you can also find work here and earn money. You can stream yourself, selling your avatar creation, start a service type of business, teach others how to dance, translate other languages, DJ for clubs, create custom worlds or models. People use their talents in music, arts, acting, comedy, games and many more for people’s needs and demands. With this they have created an economy that made VRChat one of the best free to play VR games that has so much potential for the future.

It really shocks me how a lot of people haven’t heard of it before when popular Vtubers such as Filian or Project Melody use VRChat on their videos that are viewed by millions of people. This shows how underrated the game is due to some misconceptions and misunderstanding people have about VRChat.

And here in Gamer Salad, we showcase games and give them their love and glory they so deserve.

If you're interested to try out VRChat yourself: feel free to create an account and login with the link below! I look forward to meeting you.

I am Mark and thank you for reading Gamer Salad!~

🎮---------------🥗

Post by Mark Christian A. Alfante

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cillians-sweetheart · 1 month ago

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𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓾𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 ☣︎ Chapter 26

ROMANCE + HORROR + SMUT STORY

No Batman and not everything about crane that's mentioned is correct to the actual character in DC.

Not all warnings shown will be used in this exact chapter! Bold warnings are some to be expected throughout the chapter below!

Johnathan ripped off his gloves and sighed. "Okay... you ready?"

"Your done?"

"Yes" He turned around with the skull in his hands.

I stood up as my eyes lit up. Johnathan looked down at me with a sense of pride of his work.

"Johnathan... aw I love it" I lifted from his hands and took it into my own. It was smooth and perfect just like his other one.

"It's a yours" He said as I admired it in my hands.

"How did you make it so perfect?" My eyes met his, glowing in the light.

"I'm a doctor Y/N, I know everything about this" He smirked.

"Right, yeah. It's so cute"

"Im glad you like it" He sighed. "I always wanted to make another, to put next to my other one, but I could never find a good candidate."

"Oh yeah?"

"But now I have two with a good meaning. One of my own and one of my wife's. Seems like a good pair I'd say.

"We're a good pair too"

"Yeah?"

"I mean, I think so" I grinned.

"Good. Because even if you didn't you would still have to be with me."

"You would keep me even if I didn't love you?"

"Yes. I wouldn't need you exposing my secrets now would I?"

"I would never expose your secrets"

"Good. Shall we go now?" He held his hand out. I grinned and laid my hand in his. He locked up the lab, and we walked down the dark empty halls. Hand in hand.

Johnathan and I arrived home that evening. Once home, he entered his office and set the skull down gently next to his. They were so beautiful together.

Both of our heads turned to the sudden phone ringing in his office. Johnathan walked over behind his desk and lifted the phone.

"Dr Crane?" He answered.

"Hello Crane it's officer Gordon. I was some questions for you."

Johnathan sat onto his chair. "Yes go on then."

"Did you happen to have a visitors last night?"

"No. Ive been terribly busy on the report you've insisted I wrote. Why do you ask?"

"We've had a report come to us saying a man that was in your building has been declared missing."

"I wish I could help you officer but I have no information on any man in the building. As I said, I've been terribly busy."

I sat in the chair across Johnathans desk and listened.

"Very well. Thank you for your time.." The officer sounded suspicious.

"Im sure he'll pop up eventually. Good day." Johnathan grinned and slammed the phone down.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"Mr Patrick" Johnathan's eyes glanced over at the shelf, where his skull laid.

"Do they think you killed him?"

"Couldn't tell you." He stood. "Would you like a drink?"

"Yes, please"

I followed Johnathan out of his office and to the living room. I sat on the sofa while he left to the kitchen. He returned to me with two glasses of red wine in his hand.

"Here you are"

I took the glass from his hand. "Thank you hunny" I raised the glass to my lips and sipped it gently. Johnathan sat next to me and watched me as I drank. "Hey can I ask you something?" I set the glass onto the table.

"Go ahead."

"Do you find it weird that everyone that's been "victimized" by me ends up either in a jail or asylum?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well the other day I saw a girl that I knew from elementary school on the news. She killed her boyfriend and is now in prison."

"Pavement girl?"

"Yeah"

"Hm.. Interesting" He moved the wine around in his glass. "I couldn't tell you Y/N. Maybe you have a murderous disease, spreading it to everyone you touch."

"Johnathan really, do you think it's a coincidence or something else?"

"I'm serious. All lot of people that suffer from traumatic event end up participating in what caused their trauma as a copying mechanism. Example if a child has alcoholic parents, they have a 90% chance of also becoming an alcoholic to cope."

"So my violence towards them caused them to be violent with others?"

"Exactly."

"But I didn't kill them"

"And your mother didn't kill you. Yet you still took her violence and turned it around on her. With murder."

I lifted my glass to my lips and slowly lifted the glass higher and higher until it was empty.

"Can I have another?" I asked setting it down.

"You're just proving my example you know"

"I don't care."

"Alright my love" He grinned and took the glass into the kitchen. I zoned out, staring at the dark wall until he returned. "Here you are" Johnathan handed it down to me, with a devious smirk on his face.

"Is it drugged?" I look at the wine, then back up at him.

"I thought we were past this point Y/N." He sat down next to me. "You should know by now that I'm not trying to kill you or drug you."

"Well It wouldn't be the first time if you did..." I said under my breath, but he still heard.

"Everything I do to you is for your own good. Imagine I never drugged you and took you that day, you'd be dead and I would've never have gotten married and died alone. I do these things to protect you. You need to know that. I would never drug you with intentions to hurt you. Okay?" He held my cheeks in his hands. I nodded.

"You never said yes or no... if it was"

"See for yourself hunny" He let go of my face and brought the glass to my mouth.

"Well I don't want it if it is"

"I will spit it into your mouth or you can drink it from the glass. Either way it's just wine."

I slowly and gently took the glass from his hand. I tilted the glass slightly, bringing it to my lips.

"There you go.. Good girl." I brought the glass back down. "See, not drugged. You're okay"

"You could've just said that in the first place."

"I could but why would I want to?" He smirked then kissed my forehead.

"You just wanted an excuse to annoy me... and spit in my mouth" I turned my head slightly away from him while I took another sip.

"Opportunity's still open"

"Yeah and what benefit does that have?"

"The benefit is that you'd love it."

"Yeah right.." Johnathan snatched the glass from my hands. "Hey!"

"You've lost alcohol privileges." He took the glass, stood up, and put it on a high shelf.

"Give it back!"

"You're gonna have to earn your privileges back"

I just looked at him in disbelief. Then I sigh. "What do I need to do now"

"Why act like It's so agonizing."

"Because it kind of is"

"Why? Because you're an alcoholic?"

"Excuse me?"

"That was a question. Not a comment." He sat back down next to me while I looked down at my lap. "Are you an alcoholic?"

"No.."

"Do you remember our conversation from earlier Y/N."

"Yeah what about it"

"If you do have an alcohol problem that's not your fault, remember your mother exposed such things to you at such a young age. And not only exposed but abused."

I lift my head and look at him. "You're saying I abuse alcohol because my mom did?"

"It's a possibility. Do you think you are?"

"No."

"If you believe it can be problem I can help. I do work with addiction as well"

"I don't want help" I scoffed. "Is that why I lost my privileges? Because you think I'm addicted to it?"

"No it was because you had an attitude. If you cut this out and be good for me then maybe I'll give it back"

"How do I be good"

"Figure it out." He says with my same attitude. I go to smack him but he catches my hand. "Not a good start sweetheart." He gently kissed my nose with his hand gripped on my wrist. "You wouldn't hit me Y/N." His other hand moved through my hair. "You love me too much" He paused. "This attitude isn't very pleasing now is it?" I shook my head. "Good. Thank you. Now tell me you love me."

I fell into his words as I spoke without even controlling it. It was as if he hypnotized me. "I love you"

He smirked in amusement. "On the floor. Now." He demanded. I listened, stood from the couch and kneeled down to the floor. I was now below him, sitting between his legs. "Say it again." His face cold and serious while he looked down at me on my knees.

"I love you.."

"Try again"

"I love you daddy" I said softly.

"Better." He stroked my hair while just admiring me below him. "You can have your drink back now. But we're not finished here."

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian x reader #johnathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #batman begins #johnathan crane #johnathan crane smut #dr crane #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #batman #johnathan crane fic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian fanfic #cillian fic #cillian murphy x you

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