#rip Bram

[thepartyishere]

is the ship really that good if they dont try to (or successfully) kill each other??

[kalcium-yippee]

Me genuine down to earth totally fr reaction to watching Bram getting split in half before being replaced by a Russian Terrorist like a human birth

[majesticsquareplatypus]

Serving cunt after eliminating the serving count.

[hashtagtheaj]

Chapter 117 of Bungo Stray Dogs has absolutely destroyed me! The tears won't stop!

[kishiqo]

someone said that bones blew their budget hiring Kenjiro Tsuda to play bram so the music aya would play would be the ending and they were absolutely right

[diagonal-queen]

Hi can u write me a fanfic about y/n and Bram? Please I need it in my life

more than happy to! what would you like it to be about?

[squishy-silly]

May I add:

– in which sigma has an average bsd enjoyer experience

[generalenemybluebird]

ASAGIRI WHAT!?!?!

[luneariann]

VRYINF

[neo--queen--serenity]

sorry in advance to the classic lit enjoyers who are in fact not reading/watching BSD

[tiberius-delvaux]

Bramble hummed in pleasant disbelief, for they were similar, two branches from the same root, lanes diverging from the main roadway. And if it had been her, she would be livid. "Someday you'll mean it," she said, knowing that too was true. Time healed most things, or -- at least -- lessened them. Eased the tension, smoothed the edges. Like she had said of his daughter, Bramble hoped that Slate would eventually understand why she did these things. That this was both entirely about them and wholly not at all. Bigger than the two, or the four, or the twenty-four of them. Big enough to change Panem.

Warmth flooded her now. A sense of euphoria spreading as she approached death. Death, so familiar, after having spent a lifetime defying, witnessing, evading it. Twenty-three lives before this one, this boy who held her now. He was the twenty-fourth. Nettle would be so proud. An arena's worth of lives that the Capitol had tried to steal away, and in exchange, just their two. An easy trade.

"One-- One more thing," Bram reached up for Slate's face, bringing him close, until he was tucked over her body, shielding her from view of the cameras, her lips to his ear and cheek. "Don't-- Don't let them do an autopsy." A breath, shallow, growing weak. For a brief flash, she was worried that she would die before she could speak this last wish. "The gems from th-the ship. I swallowed them." During the storm, before the shipwreck sank and the atoll was washed away, Bramble had swallowed a handful of jewels. Dozens of them. The four of them had commented on their grotesque display of wealth, and Bram had thought to herself there's a better fucking use for that. Gems like that could keep Joe comfortable for the rest of his life. It could buy the front much-needed supplies. It could pay for their funeral, if that's what was needed. "Tell Joe f-for me?" He was her family too. She couldn't go home to him, but she'd make sure he was cared for, even from the next life.

And then her eyes drifted beyond him, above his shoulder, expression softening. "Already?" Bram smiled, relieved. "Okay, I'm-- I'm coming." She scoffed at a question, one she'd been asked the morning of their reaping. "N-not a chance. Get out of...my seat." Bram closed her eyes, body easing, muscles relaxing entirely. "My Nettle," she sighed, ready. "She says it's t-time." There was no use asking for five more minutes, like Bramble had every morning, like Nettle had just hours prior. This was important. She couldn't be late.

There was a stretch of silence, her breath slowing, though no cannon fired. She took another breath, ragged, if only so she could smile and add, "we'll s-see y-you, Just Slate." The three of them. The others who had gone before. It would be a long time before they were reunited, and by the time death came for Slate, there'd be even more on the other side. But his life would be magnificent. He'd leave behind a legacy, a lineage. He'd leave behind seedlings and sprouts. The world would be different. There would be no doubt. And when it was time -- all those very many years from now -- he wouldn't have to be Meta Morphic, or the voice of truth, or anyone except himself. Bram died, her cannon firing, still smiling at the thought. She had done well. She had done exactly as promised.

And now, she could be free. At last, Bramble went to her wife, ready to rest.

There was only one response he could give. Only one thing that he could say to his friend as she died in his arms. He clutched her tight, bending over her so that his body was curled around hers, protective, and he kissed her head, and he said, "I love you, and I forgive you."

It was the only thing he could say. To not say it was unthinkable. But to feel it -- for it to be true, his forgiveness -- was another thing, and that was not something he could offer. All he could do was lie, and hope it was convincing, because there was no point in handing her the truth. That, he would hold for himself.

That he was angry with the three of them for lying to him. For keeping their plan from him. For robbing him of the choice: to live or die. For elevating him, turning him into a symbol he had not meant to become. For believing in him so strongly that they'd force him into what now felt like an eternal life. Yes, there was Cress, Hestia, the baby -- people waiting for him. But there was this right now; the dying, the pain. In quick succession, all three of them laying down their lives for him.

That was something he wasn't sure he'd be able to forgive.

[kalcium-yippee]

"BRAM WILL LIVE" we all shout in unison, knowing damn well he probably wont

[sableeira]

bram’s life really sucks. poor guy has been vilified for all his life because of his ability. Has been impaled by a sword twice. Used for the evil plot of other people. And now got his body taken over by this evil guy he had beef a few hundred years ago? That sucks a lot.

[knightpetrichor]

so this is basically what happened right

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I hope Aya just keeps collecting dads every few chapters or so.

Oh your dad sucks? The narrative keeps giving you more dads. Your arms are overflowing with dads. They all have varying mental health concerns but they love you and will protect you.

[another-chaotic-bisexual-vampire]

Mr. Swales, July 24: Don't you worry, young miss, there's nothing spooky here in Whitby these days.

Dracula, August 10: There is now.