#The only reason the explanation is so short here is because I wrote it out in an exhausted Whatever tone that clips some of the explanation

[allysunny]

Hii, firstly I LOVE ur writing so much, you’re really talented 🌟💘

Congrats on 200 followers, SOOOO DESERVED!!!

I was wondering if you could do 27+r for Bruce 🥰 something like he left to protect her, it hurt him more than anything and he realized that it was mistake and wants her back. Happy ending tho, I’m a sucker for that haha 😄❤️

Thank you in advance, much love! 🫶🏻

“You left me” / “I was protecting you” / “You LEFT me” + Protecting you x Bale!Bruce

Words: 15.8k words

Warnings: Angst, infidelity, cheating, lots of angst, pregnancy, break-up, suggestive themes and one (1) very poorly written and short nsfw scene (it's like 5 lines long I think), one (1) death, Bruce Wayne being a mess (relatable), a lot of heartbreak and pining, not proofread. I literally wrote this in a span of like, one week, and it's not proofread, so oh my god I'm so sorry if there's anything wrong with it...

A/N: Oh my god. Hello everyone. Holy fuck. Okay so, I hope you guys are interested to know what the fuck happened here. I don't want to waste any more time (the explanation is quite big), so I'll add it after the fic, in the final Author Note. Small context: I got two requests that were kinda similar, so I decided to mix the two together!

Just a heads up, due to reasons that I'll expand on at the end, I feel like the end drags on a bit. I did not proofread because I was a bit saturated with this piece, and I think that at some point, I actually cried because I was panicking real hard.

Anyway!!! I love Bruce!!!! I hope you guys enjoy this <3

Bruce knew you were the one after you'd first spilled coffee all over his suit.

You just looked so worried, your pretty eyes wide with fear as you tried to think of what to say to this stranger you'd just bumped into – or so he thought. You, in fact, knew exactly what you wanted to say to him.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, asshole!" you'd exclaimed, looking at what remained of your iced coffee. "This thing was almost 10 dollars, what am I supposed to do now?"

Bruce eyed you up and down, honestly surprised you had the guts to raise your voice at him. Didn't you know who he was? Did you simply not care?

Either way, he was enthralled.

"Hey!" you waved your arms in front of him, trying to get his attention. "Look at me!"

"May I be so bold to point out you spilled your coffee onto me?" Bruce asked with a small scoff. "If anything, you are the one supposed to do something about it."

"This wouldn't have happened if you watched where you were going." You were very pretty, Bruce noted. Your eyes seemed to sparkle, and your arms were crossed over your chest, making his eyes dart towards it.

"And what am I supposed to do?" He replied.

"I don't know! Give me my money back or something, that coffee is super expensive! It's my special celebration cup!"

""Your money back?"

"Yeah! You're dressed up all nice, I bet that suit costs more than my rent."

"Oh, really?" Bruce was amused one. You were feisty, clearly. "And what makes you think that?"

"No one walks around Gotham dressed like that, unless they're rich, powerful, law agents, or I don't know, Bruce Fucking Wayne."

"Bruce Wayne? Does he dress like this?"

You scoffed, shaking your head and gesticulating a lot with your arms.

"Probably! I mean, it's not like anyone has ever seen the guy, but let's be honest, he probably dresses in expensive as fuck silk, or like, placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies or something."

You only seemed to get better by the second.

Bruce placed a hand on his chin, truly intrigued by your line of thinking.

"Placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies?" He had to admit, this was pretty amusing. Did you have any sort of filter? If so, he never wished that you turned it off.

"Maybe – I don't know – It's Bruce Wayne, so who actually does know? Maybe he's running a society of baby-shitting placenta. It's Gotham. One day we have masked vigilantes jumping off roofs, and the other, bomb threats. Regular Tuesdays for us Gothamites. But the real question here is," you jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest. "What are you going to do to repay me my very well-earned 10$ worth of iced coffee?"

Bruce was just about to reply, when a very familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne!" Lucius's Fox deep timbre was unmistakable, and Bruce turned around to offer him a polite smile. "I'm happy to run into you, there's a few things – " He took one good look at his boss's shirt and grimaced. "Hell, Mr. Wayne, how'd that happen?"

The younger man turned around to glance at you. Poor, poor you, with eyes even wider, and a matching mouth. You blinked several times, looking from his shirt to his face, and from his face to his shirt.

"Oh, that's right. I almost forgot to introduce myself," he put a hand forward, offering you what you thought was the most dazzling smile ever. Geez, women must basically throw their panties at him.

"Bruce Wayne. Baby-shitting-placenta cult leader."

You blinked a few more times, wishing the earth swallowed you whole. You'd literally never done anything wrong in your life. Sure, you talked trash about Suzy Carpenter's sweater in 8th grade, but it was warranted – it did look like vomit – and you had stolen a yogurt from a coworker once, but surely that did not warrant running into Bruce Fucking Wayne of all people, spilling coffee all over his clothes, and accuse him of eating placenta. Maybe Suzy still held a grudge.

"Mr. Fox, how about I stop by your office later today? I'm quite busy this morning. Have something to do."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne. I'll be patiently waiting." Lucius gave him and you an acknowledging nod, before walking away.

You were still staring at Bruce, completely at a loss for words. What were you supposed to say? Was there anything at all you could say?

"I – Mr. Wayne, I – Well, I'm – I," you stuttered and stuttered, and Bruce could only chuckle, before shaking his head. He looked to his left and took a few steps, opening a door before him.

"After you."

Confusion took over your expressions. What was he up to? Where was he going?

"I promise not to kidnap you into a placenta cult," he chuckled, nodding towards the door. You looked at the name written in green letters on the glass. "Coffee House". "I believe I have a cup of coffee to make up for?"

He offered you a very subtle version of that dazzling smile of his, and you couldn't help but return in kind.

"I'm not going to apologize or kiss your ass or anything," you told him.

"That's fine," Bruce shrugged, "I didn't want you to."

You pondered your options.

You didn't know this man. But someone had called him Mr. Wayne, and now that you take a good look at him, he does look like the face gossip magazines and tabloids love to splatter on the cover. And he really did not look like he meant any harm.

And you really wanted a cup of coffee. "Alright, Mr. Placenta Cult Leader."

It did not take long for Bruce to fall in love with you, with your kindness, with your looks, with your beautiful personality. You always maintained that feisty attitude of yours, refusing to treat him or anyone in his world differently simply because you were now a part of it.

And Bruce loved it.

Loved how you couldn't care less what other socialite families thought of you, eating chocolate covered fruit after chocolate covered fruit at fundraisers, loved the way you latched onto him and "claimed" your property so to say whenever other women approached him and tried their luck (not that it would've worked, this man was whipped for you), telling other, more arrogant seniors off whenever they made judgements on yours, or Gotham forbid, Bruce.

But above all, he loved you,

And he made sure to show you just how much whenever possible. He wasn't the best with words, never had been, so he tried to show his devotions through actions. Breakfasts in bed, gentle caresses while you cuddled together on the couch, copies of your favourite books, soft kisses pressed against the hollow of your throat while he brought you to a climax with his fingers. Bruce would never stop showing you his love, for as long as he lived.

Alfred was very fond of you too.

The two of you had gotten along very well immediately after your first meeting, with Alfred telling you all sorts of embarrassing stories from Bruce's childhood. You laughed and replied in kind, and the two of you sort of teamed up to make his life a living hell (in the best way possible), teasing him to no end and cursing him with the worst jokes known to mankind.

Alfred too could see you were the one for his boss.

Saw it in the way Bruce looked at you, like everyone else in the world was gone and the only thing that mattered was the shine in your eyes. Saw it in the way he bent over to whisper sweet nothings into your ear that made you giggle out loud, just the way he saw Thomas Wayne do with his wife.

Saw it in the way Bruce paced holes into his study, pondering on what ring to get you. He bothered him to exhaustion that day, wondering about the colours you'd prefer, what size and shaped rock to get you, how, when, and where to propose.

"It has to be perfect, Alfred," he muttered, shaking his head and sighing incessantly. "I can't just pick any ring. It has to be meaningful. Her birthstone? No. No, absolutely not, that's lame. It's lame – it's dated. She wouldn't like it. Maybe she doesn't even like her birthstone. A diamond. A diamond! No. Out of the question. What if she doesn't like diamonds?"

"If I may give you a piece of advice, sir?" Alfred asked. However entertaining it was to see the mighty Bruce Wayne freak out over an engagement ring, this man was still his boy, and he couldn't bear to see him distressed. "If I recall, it was in your mother's will that her ring was to be stored and kept locked away in the possibility of her passing. I believe it is stored away in her old jewel box, as she was never buried with it. She wanted you to have it."

Bruce's eyes softened, as they often did at the mention of his parents.

"My mother's ring?" he asked to which Alfred nodded dutifully.

"It has been in your family for more than 6 generations now. Your mother wanted you to have it."

Some mixed feeling akin to grief and love passed through his eyes, and Bruce found himself staring at the floor. His mother's ring. A family heirloom, passed on from generation to generation. And now it was his. And would become yours. A million thoughts could've crossed through his mind. "Should I give something this important to her?" or "Is she the right person for this ring?" or maybe even "This is far too important. I need to think twice before making this decision".

But surprisingly, the only thought that came to him was "There is no one out there more deserving of this ring than her".

It was endearing, really, and Alfred Pennyworth was more than happy to see the boy he'd watched grow and loved as his own become his own man, and finally find the love he so much deserved.

When you got home on a warm May night and showed off your ring to him, smiling from ear to ear, eyes red and makeup slightly smudged from the tears you'd no doubt shed, he hugged you tightly and wished you all the best. He was sure the late Mr. and Mrs. Wayne would've loved you, and his eyes teared up at the thought.

Bruce caught sight of this and made his way towards the older man, worried that something might be wrong, the answer almost made him cry as well.

"It seemed like only yesterday I was patching your arm up after a rough fall, Master Wayne. And here you are today, carrying the legacy of your family, a man of your own, about to embark on this beautiful journey that's marriage. I am so very proud of the man you have become, and I'm sure your parents would too."

The two of them hugged warmly. Alfred was the only person besides you who got to see the more vulnerable side of Bruce – well, rather, you were the other person beside him. Having grown up with only his butler, Bruce saw him as a father figure. Sure, he'd never be able to replace his actual dad, but Bruce looked up and admired Alfred very much, considering him part of the family. No one seemed to care about him as much, and he was forever grateful.

That very night, you three toasted with champagne, sharing stories and anecdotes from Bruce's childhood, your relationship, and making plans for the future. And after Alfred had long retired for the night, Bruce took you in his arms, carried you off to his bedroom and made sure to remind you over and over again just how much he loved you.

After the engagement, Bruce told you about his double identity as Batman. You'd never suspected it – you were both responsible adults, each had your own job and errands to run. Not to mention that Bruce was the CEO of a whole company. To you, it was normal if he had to cancel one or two dates, or if you went a few days without seeing him. Sure, you missed him, and sometimes it made your heart ache, but you were a busy woman yourself, and always found yourself surrounded by things to do; hobbies, errands, work – you always had a lot going on, so Bruce's absence felt normal.

He was afraid you'd leave him, but in true you fashion, it just made you even more in love. The man you adored more than anything and wanted to spend the rest of your life with was the one keeping Gotham safe at night. You begged him there and then to show you all his cool gadgets, teach you how everything worked, and your mouth watered at the possibility of having sex in what you called "the Batcar".

"Batcar?" Bruce asked, cringing.

"No – that sounds terrible. Hmmm... Batengine?"

"It's called the Tumbler, and that's all. No Bat prefixes."

"No – no, it doesn't work like that. It needs a name. Oh. OH – Oh, holy fuck. Okay, get ready for this." You placed your hands in front of you, smiling. "You ready?"

"Just get on with it."

"I was just making sure you were ready. Okay listen. The Batmobile."

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

And then he made your wish come true, carrying you off towards the Batmobile.

Later, when you were curled up in his arms, you grinned, placing a cheeky kiss on his jaw.

"You're wearing the suit next time.”

Your engagement was happily lived.

You and Bruce tried to keep it a secret for as long as you could, wanting to enjoy some time together away from the prying eyes of Gotham, but as soon as one photographer caught you taking a spoon to your lips, and the beautiful diamond ring caught in the light, it was over.

“So much for privacy,” you muttered, collapsing on your couch, gripping the latest gossip magazine. The words “WAYNE HEIR TO FINALLY SETTLE! Billionaire playboy finally tamed!?” were plastered on the cover, as well as a big picture of you hiding your face with your left hand as Bruce brought you close to him. “I wonder if they’ll ever leave us alone.”

“Probably not. You’ll get used to it; it comes with the name.” Bruce kissed the top of your head, handing you a cup of coffee. You smiled and sat up straight, taking a sip from it and humming in delight.

“This is real good. Did Alfred make it?”

“Why is it so hard to believe that I would make a good cup of coffee?” Your fiancé asked, sitting beside you. One hand snaked around your waist and brought you closer, and the other softly flicked your nose.

“You burned the coffee beans last time you tried. I don’t even know how that’s possible, Bruce,” you sighed.

“I did my best.” Was his response.

“Maybe stick to being Bruce Wayne by day, and Batman by night. I love a good alliteration, but you were not meant to be a barista.”

Bruce chuckled and kissed you, tasting the sweet coffee off your lips. He hummed, gazing at you through his dark lashes.

“You’re right, this is good. Most likely wasn’t made by me.”

“It definitely wasn’t made by you.”

“You are such a hater,” Bruce sighed, playfully kissing your nose. “I’m never making you any more coffee from now on.”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled at him jokingly.

“Is that a promise?”

Bruce just shook his head and bent down to kiss you. You smiled against his lips, and he took the opportunity to give your waist a good squeeze, causing you to flinch.

“Stop that! I’m going to spill this all over the couch!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time – I recall someone spilling coffee all over me and somehow making it my fault,” Bruce joked, raising a quizzical brow. You smiled fondly at the memory. It was your favourite story to tell.

“You weren’t watching your step. It wasn’t my fault.”

“You bumped into me.”

“No, you bumped into me because you weren’t paying attention. And then you made me spill your coffee all over you.” You smiled and kissed him again. When you pulled away, you felt him chase after you, capturing your lips with his own once again.

Brushing his lips against yours, he murmured, “And I’m glad I did. I got to meet the love of my life that way.”

“You’re so corny, Bruce Wayne. I wonder what the public would think of you if they saw you like this.”

“I don’t care what the public thinks of me as long as you’re by my side.”

You smiled, and so did he. Truer words had never been spoken.

Now that you knew he was Batman, you worried more often.

What before was considered simply a “busy night for Mr. CEO” was now “night out in Gotham, fighting criminals and possibly getting injured”. You found yourself pacing circles around your bedroom, biting on your nails, and hoping that Bruce would come home soon.

You’d asked Alfred for some tips – how could he appear so relaxed knowing that the boy he treated as his own son was out there, doing what he did? Knowing that he put himself in the face of danger so often and sometimes with no regard for his own life?

“It’s hard, Miss,” he told you over a warm cup of tea. “But in the end, Master Wayne knows what he is doing. And now he has one more reason to get back home safely. Everything will be alright.”

And thankfully, he usually did.

You two had a sort of unspoken deal.

Bruce would always wake you up whenever he returned, even if just to let you know he was safe and home. Sometimes, you’d wake up, insisting on checking him for bruises and marks, and even going as far as patching them up.

“The kitchen has better lighting, c’mon,” you mumbled, voice still coated in exhaustion. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you made your way towards the kitchen to deal with his bruises. It was routine, at this point. Bruce sat down, you opened your first-aid kit, you two had a snack and went back to bed. It was domestic, in a way. Not really something a regular couple would do, but you and Bruce had never really been regular.

“You’re lucky that one isn’t big,” you said, pointing towards the purple bruise forming on top of his right pectoral. You’d seen worse – sometimes he came home with bullet wounds, or deep gashes on his skin. Not that this was any more reassuring, but you were just glad that compared to other nights, he didn’t seem to be suffering too much. “It should heal in a few days, as long as you keep applying the cream.”

“What would I do without you?” he asked, with a soft smile. This is how you knew Bruce had truly returned home. Some nights he’d be far too tired to speak, choosing to kiss you and softly touch you to remind you of his love. Others, he would lock himself up in the Batcave, somehow convinced he wasn’t worthy of you. Of course you offered to talk to him, to help carry his burdens, but he never wanted to drag you into that side of his life, so most of the time, he would keep to himself.

Right now, though, he seemed to be doing fine. He told you patrol was rather easy, there were no major criminals out, and that nothing was wrong. His smiles and chuckles meant that Bruce, your Bruce was back.

“I don’t know,” you said, moving to open the fridge. As soon as you did, you turned away from it and gagged. “Shit – that’s disgusting,” you said, closing the door and shaking your head.

“What?” Bruce turned to you. “Is there something wrong?”

“I think there must be something rotten in here, it smells foul. Fuck, it smells so disgusting, I think I’m going to vomit,” you mumbled, moving away from the fridge as quickly as you could. Bruce got up right after and carefully opened the door. Nothing. Nothing seemed to smell rotten – nor it would make any sense if it did. Alfred was always on top of groceries, and never in his life he recalled a moment where something was rotten or went to waste.

“Are you sure?” he asked, turning to you. “I can’t smell anything bad.” Searching through the items, he opened and closed lids, smelling whatever was inside. Everything seemed to be intact.

“Are you serious? It smells disgusting – close that door!”

“Honey, I can’t find anything in here that smells bad. Maybe you’re just sensitive or something.” Bruce closed the door and walked towards you, wrapping you around his arms. “We should go to sleep. It’s late.”

You nodded into his chest and allowed him to carry you back to bed.

As you drifted off to sleep, you thought of how nice it would be if every single day was like this – patrol-wise. Bruce would come home with barely any scratches, you’d take care of him in about 10 minutes, and before you knew it, you’d be back in bed, hugging him tightly against you.

Unfortunately, the future held other plans.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t The Dark Knight himself,” a very familiar voice said.

Bruce turned around and faced the familiar mask of the Scarecrow, the man he knew to be Dr. Jonathan Crane. And he seemed to be in top shape – last time he’d seen the bastard, he was mumbling incoherently and out of his mind. How he’d gotten himself out of Arkham, Bruce had no idea, but he was sure to send him back there in no time.

“Crane.” Bruce said, ready to fight at any time. He knew Crane used a special toxin to induce fear in his enemies, and although he was immune to it, he had no idea what other people he’d convinced to do his dirty work. Had no idea if he should suspect any surprise attacks and did not want to take chances.

“You know, it’s funny that I find you here, especially after all the… studying I was doing just last night.” Crane paced around the alley, trying to get Bruce’s – the Batman’s – attention. “I was thinking, what is the big bad bat afraid of?” Placing a hand on his chin, he pretended to be deep in thought.

“Cut the crap Crane,” Bruce all but spat, “What do you want?”

Crane – the Scarecrow – however, did not seem in the mood to stop.

“At first, I couldn’t quite get it. After all, you’re just a man,” Crane put extra emphasis on his words. Bruce saw right through him. He wasn’t the first one who tried to make him feel helpless. “But then, it hit me.”

The Scarecrow kept walking around, weaving a narrative to get into Bruce’s head. The latter one stood his ground. He had half a mind to slam Crane against the nearest wall and just hand him over to the authorities, who’d already been called and were on their way, but part of him wanted to hear whatever the maniac had to say.

He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but something inside him stirred. Crane looked carefree, relaxed. What had he done?

“Tell me, Bruce,” he said the name with a twisted kind of glee, something that made Bruce’s stomach drop unpleasantly. “Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?”

What?

How did he know about him?

Most importantly, how did he know about you? Had he investigated you? Put the pieces together? Had Bruce accidentally left any sort of clue that led him to make the connection?

“Ah – right,” Crane said, removing his mask and offering Bruce a sadistic smile, “You thought no one would figure out your little secret, would you, Batman? How unfortunate.”

In about a second, Bruce was close to Crane, gripping him by the collar of his shirt.

“What have you done to her!?” He snapped, anger clouding his judgement.

“Ah, ah, ah! Now, don’t be crass, Bruce, we’re both respected men and can do this the hard way or the easy way. And I would hate for someone to find out your little secret. Wouldn’t you agree?” The man smiled mockingly, making Bruce’s blood boil.

“Who knows!? Who have you told?” he roared. All judgement and common sense had jumped off the window. Bruce remembered his training; remembered how he was told to keep his emotions at bay. Use his head, not his heart.

“This is where things get complicated now, Batman.” Crane spoke calmly. “I’m the only one who’s aware of your little secret.” Bruce almost sighed in relief. “But that can easily change. Help me get what I want, and I won’t tell a soul. Do anything to stop me, and I’ll let the whole world know who’s hiding under the mask. And believe me – every Arkham inmate would like to know.”

Bruce lowered the Scarecrow onto the ground, breathing heavily. Jonathan Crane knew his identity, knew who he was, where he lived, knew who his wife was. If he didn’t play this correctly, you’d be in great danger.

Reaching towards his pocket, Crane pulled out a small phone.

“In here, I have all the information about you, and the Missus. If you cross me, call for backup, or do anything that would sabotage my plan, I’m sending this file to every phone in Arkham City.”

Bruce weighed his options. He had to be careful. Get the phone out of Crane’s hands, lock him up –

A loud gunshot could be heard through the alley, and the man with the mask in his hand fell on the ground. It took a while for Bruce to understand what was going on, but Jim Gordon’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“I didn’t say you could shoot –“

“Sargeant, we’ve been after Crane for months now, I wasn’t going to let him go this easily!” A younger man in a GCPD office called out, moving towards Bruce and the now dead body lying on the floor.

Jonathan Crane was dead. The Scarecrow was dead. The only person who knew his secret was now dead. Instinctively, he bent down to pry the phone from the dead man’s hands. With a few clicks, he realised he wasn’t bluffing. A message with a large file entitled THE BAT was ready to be sent at any time. Bruce deleted the thing and destroyed the phone with his bare hands.

That had been close.

Too close.

The GCPD had killed Crane, and while normally Bruce would be against the killing policy, part of him kept thanking whatever inexperienced officer had decided to shoot him.

That was too close.

Crane had said no one else knew of his identity. What if he was bluffing? What if the phone was just a means to threaten him, meanwhile, everyone back in Arkham already knew?

“You okay?” Bruce turned to look at Jim Gordon’s worried expression. “It’s not often we see the Batman worried.”

“He knew who I am.”

Gordon took a step back – quite literally – eyes wide as he put his hands on his hips.

“Did he now?”

“He was going to tell everyone in Arkham City should I not help him along with his plan.”

Both men remained silent, staring at each other, before Gordon turned to look at his officers.

“I know you stick to your no-killing policy, but maybe this one was for the – “

The Batman was gone.

“ – Best.”

He’d spent the night at the cave, terrified to return to you.

What was he going to do?

Jonathan Crane had found out about him, so who’s to say someone else wouldn’t? Sure, the average criminal could not simply put together that he was Bruce Wayne, but there were always going to be people like Crane, who held big grudges and had a very high intellect.

It was simply a matter of time before someone else found out about you.

And Bruce couldn’t have that.

He ran Crane’s words over and over again in his head.

Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?

He was right. While he was out at night, protecting the city, you were at home, with no one to protect you. He couldn’t bring you along – that was out of the question. And he couldn’t confine you to some secluded area. He knew you’d get upset that he was treating you like a baby, assuring him you could take care of yourself just fine.

You couldn’t.

Bruce had to protect you. He had to keep you safe, out of harm’s and criminal’s ways. Tonight, it was Crane, merely threatening to tell everyone about you. Tomorrow, it could be someone doing good on their promise.

He tried hard to think of what to do.

And the only idea that seemed like it could work, made his heart ache immensely.

He loved you. He loved you more than what he could possibly say. It tore him apart to be away from you, it broke him to simply think of hurting you.

And yet, it would keep you safe.

Bruce loved you.

So, so much.

He loved you so very much, that he was willing to do whatever he had to keep you safe from harm.

It would break his heart, yes. And yours too, surely. But after tonight, he couldn’t risk it. He would go the lengths of the earth to keep you safe and sound. He made his way towards the Manor and thought over his plan.

There was no way you’d believe him if he ever told you he did not love you. No, that wouldn’t work. You knew him far too well to know when he was lying.

He couldn’t say he was trying to protect you either. One thing he loved the most about you, was your stubbornness. If he told you all he was trying to do was keep you safe, you’d laugh in his face and promise you some measly criminals did not phase you. It warmed his heart, in a way, to know you’d stick with him through thick and thin, but it also made him worry.

What could he possibly do to keep you away from him?

And that’s when it hit him.

You had to see it.

It wasn’t an ideal solution – hell, he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to even think about it. But if it would keep you safe? Bruce was willing to give it a try.

You’d gotten home earlier from work. Bruce knew this. You were supposed to get home around 6 and a half on Tuesdays, but it was currently 6 and you were already hanging your coat by the door.

“Good afternoon, Miss.” Alfred said with a polite nod, hurrying to your side. “You’re home earlier than expected.” A lie. Bruce had spoken to your coworkers earlier, and they’d told him you’d be off work sooner than expected. Alfred was in on the whole plan as well. It didn’t please him one bit, but he knew once Bruce got an idea, he would go through it until the very end.

“I told you to stop with the ‘Miss’, Alfred, my name is fine. It’s been fine for four years, and I’m sure it’ll be fine for the rest of our lives.” You smiled at him. You’d been trying to get Alfred to use your name for all the years you’d been dating Bruce, but to no avail.

“I’m sorry Miss,” he replied. “Old habits die hard. And please, allow me. It’s part of my job.”

“You’re family, Alfred. What would it take for you to call me by my name?”

“A handsome raise by Master Wayne.”

“I’ll see that he takes care of it right away.”

Alfred smiled as you turned to make your way towards the bedroom, and when you were no longer facing him, your expression turned to one of sadness. Was this really what it had come to? Was he about to go on with this?

He didn’t want to, but there was no way he was going against his boss’s rules.

Alfred sighed sadly, before following you.

“I’m afraid Master Wayne is busy.”

“Oh,” you hummed, “It’s okay. I’ll just wait for him to return.” You continued walking.

“No, Miss – he’s in his office. He’s told me not to disturb him, nor let anyone do it, since he’s working on some very important projects for Wayne Enterprises.”

Weird. Bruce never shut you out, even when he was busy. Sure, he might have things to do, but he would always keep his door open should you want to talk to him, or just kiss him.

“Well, that’s fine, I’ll just say hello to him and go take a shower.” You offered Alfred a smile and turned to instead walk towards Bruce’s office. “Did he tell you what work? He never mentioned anything about a project. Is it new?”

“I’m not sure Miss.” Alfred said, his heart beating slightly faster now that you approached the office’s door. He knew exactly what to expect once you opened the door, but it didn’t really make it easier. “He told me he was going to be busy all afternoon, told me not to go in, and closed the door.”

“Weird. Are you sure he’s alright?”

“I suppose so, Miss.”

You furrowed a brow. Odd. And it’s not like he told you anything at all – letting you know he’d be busy or working up until late.

“That’s alright, Alfred. I’ll go check up on him. He must be really tired,” You said, and approached the door. And now, you were even more confused than ever. Weird sounds were coming from inside the office. You could make out two voices – Bruce’s, of course (you’d know his voice from a mile away), and a female one.

What in the world could Bruce be possibly doing behind locked doors with a woman?

You stilled, straining your ears to better make out the noises coming from inside. And you flushed deep red once the realisation hit you. Grunting, groaning, moaning.

No.

It couldn’t be, now, could it? There was no way.

You turned around to face Alfred, whose face seemed to go white as a sheet of paper.

“Y-You said he locked himself inside and sent you away?” You asked.

“Yes, Miss.”

“O-Okay.” You mumbled, facing the door.

The voices got louder. The female voice got higher and shriller, and tears clouded your vision. You mustered up all the courage you could find in yourself, and burst the door open, gasping loudly at the scene before you.

A naked woman was lying on top of your fiancé’s desk, cheeks flushed and hands desperately clawing at his back – Bruce’s back. He was on top of her, hand hidden in the crook of her neck as he groaned, rutting faster against her.

You stilled in your place, completely paralyzed. There were no possible words to describe what you were feeling now. Anger? Heartbreak? Sadness?

The woman let out a loud moan and wrapped her legs tighter around him.

“You like that?” Bruce grunted, lifting his head to look at the woman, who replied with another broken moan and a tug of his hair.

“Bruce?” you said, heart breaking in a million pieces.

He looked up. Really looked up, staring into your eyes. Inside him, something broke as well. He was doing this for your own good. For your safety. He had to keep you away, had to give you the life he knew you couldn’t have as his wife. It was too dangerous.

“Fuck,” he muttered, quickly getting away from the woman on the desk. He stared at you, dumbfounded, scrambling around to quickly get his clothes.

“Hey – hey – what are you doing?” The woman asked, looking at him, before turning to you and her eyes widened. “Oh!”

You scoffed, looking in between the two, and stormed away, tears running down your cheeks.

“Honey!” Bruce called. He quickly managed to put on a pair of pants, and ran after you, heart pounding in his chest. You were mad. This was really happening. He was going to forever ruin the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and all because of the Batman. He’d betrayed you and broken your heart.

But it was for your own good.

“I can’t believe this,” you said through gritted teeth, walking towards your bedroom and slamming the door shut behind you. Bruce was able to catch it right before it shut closed, and the expression in your face was sure to haunt him forever. Your lovely eyes, usually bright and lively, were dull and red. Your tear-streaked face was something Bruce had never wanted to see in his life – at least not when it pertained to something bad.

“Honey, please, it’s not what it looks like.” He pleaded, walking towards you.

You were quick to move aside.

“Don’t give me that not what it looks like bullshit! I saw you Bruce – God damn it, I saw you with another woman.” You said, trying to remain calm, but failing miserably. “How could you!?”

“Look, darling, if you could just let me explain –“

“Oh! Explain!” You hurried inside the closet, fetching one of your travel suitcases. There was no way you were staying inside this house – his house – any longer. You needed to get out. Needed fresh air, needed to get away from him. “What is there to explain? How you were balls deep inside some woman you’ve found somewhere? Oh, really nice, Bruce, lovely explanation!”

“You have to understand –“ Bruce explained, in between shallow breaths. “You weren’t supposed to find out, you were supposed to be at work.”

“Ah, yes. Of course I wasn’t supposed to find out.” You scoffed and busied yourself with throwing clothes inside your suitcase. “That much I know.”

“I’m sorry – “

“I’m sure you are.”

“I didn’t want it to come to this!” Bruce snapped, and you finally turned to him.

“Come to this?” Your voice was low, frail, frightened. Fuck. What was he doing? What was Bruce doing? Was this worth ruining your relationship over? Yes. Yes – of course it did. If it meant you’d be safe. Everything was worth it if you were safe.

You’d have your heart broken, yes. But in a few months, maybe years, you’d find someone else. A nice, normal man, with no secret identities and no secret life. You’d find a nice man and settle down. He would give you all his time, worship you like you deserved to be worshipped. Would take care of you and love you, and never put you in danger.

And you’d be happy. You’d be so happy; you’d have long forgotten about the asshole Bruce Wayne, who’d cheated on you and broke your heart.

“Yes, come to this.” He repeated. “You weren’t supposed to find out. I was supposed to have ended this long ago, and yet I let go for far too long.” Bruce tried to force some venom, some harshness into his words. He wasn’t used to talking like this to you, nor did he want to – but he had to try.

“What do you mean?” The clothes in your hands were long forgotten, and you just stared at him, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I just – look, I hate to do this right now, and in these circumstances, but…”

“But?”

“We can’t be together anymore.”

Your eyes widened. What?

“I can’t keep lying to you. I don’t love you anymore.”

These words hit you like a truck.

Didn’t love you anymore?

“What?”

“That’s right.” Bruce sighed, trying to keep his composure. “This relationship is a mistake. You’re holding me back, and I just don’t love you anymore.” His voice was devoid of any emotion, while inside, he could feel everything slipping out of control. He loved you. How could he say such things? How were such words leaving his mouth?

“You – you don’t love me anymore?” You asked, eyes tearing up once more. Your breaths were coming in shallow; you couldn’t breathe, nor believe the stuff you were hearing.

“I don’t. I’ve been miserable – miserable – in this relationship,” He said your name, running a finger through his already unkempt hair. “I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. Propose, settle down, get married – I can’t do it. I don’t see a future with you anymore. Please, you can’t tell me you haven’t felt the same!”

“No! I can’t!” You didn’t sound like yourself. You sounded sad, broken, out of breath, completely terrified. You thought your life with Bruce was going very well. You loved him, and he loved you. Yeah, okay, maybe he had some more work to take care of as of late, but that didn’t warrant a breakup. Did it? “We – we’ve been so happy, Bruce!”

“Fuck – I don’t love you anymore! This, this – this relationship is killing me here! I can’t keep on doing this, can’t wake up and pretend to be your Brucie, or a family man, or God forbid, someday your husband!” Bruce was fighting hard to keep his emotions away from this. Instead, he channelled all that energy into pretending to be angry with you. He put all the anger he felt towards the outside world and every criminal in Gotham, into this fake argument.

And by the look of your face, he was doing a good job.

“How… How long have you been doing this?” You whispered. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer. Weren’t sure if you wanted to know how long your husband had been betraying you, sleeping with some other woman. Or women. It made you nauseous just to think of that.

“I…”

“Just tell me, Bruce!”

Bruce sighed, looking away.

“Three months.”

A choked sob was ripped from your throat, and you grabbed the nearest thing – a shoebox – raising it above your head. There were a million thoughts racing through your head, a million emotions plaguing your mind. But before you could throw the damned box at his head, you ran into the nearest bathroom, puking your guts out.

The whole situation made you nauseous alright.

As soon as you’d puked whatever you had to, you got up, washing your mouth and your teeth. Then, you turned to Bruce. He was standing in the middle of your bedroom, looking at you with a mixture of sorrow, disgust, and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

You couldn’t stare at him any longer.

“I’d appreciate it if you left the Manor until the end of the day,” he said, looking at the ground. “I would like the master bedroom to be clean of your things.”

How could he speak like this? How could he say all of this after everything you two shared? Every word, every kiss, every touch? Had it not meant anything to him? Clearly not, by the way he was behaving.

You wiped your tears (unsuccessfully, since they just kept on rolling down your cheeks), and walked towards your closet, proceeding to stuff your clothes inside the suitcase. Just as you were about to shut your first suitcase, Bruce interrupted you.

“I’ll have someone else take to you the rest of your things. Just take that right now.”

You stood up, turning to him. First, he cheated on you, then he admitted to not loving you, then he broke up with you, and now he was kicking you out at full force.

You sneered.

“Where the hell am I supposed to stay, then? I live here.”

“Lived. Not live. You don’t live here anymore. Just get a hotel room somewhere, I’ll pay for it. But you have to go.”

“Why? So you can go back to fucking your new girlfriend?”

“Precisely.” The bite in his words shocked you.

There were no words. No words beside three little things you’d never thought you’d utter at the man standing before you.

“I hate you. I hate you, Bruce Wayne.” You said, tears cascading down your cheeks and marring your so lovely face. “Everyone warned me about you, but I didn’t listen. I was too in love with you to care about what anyone said.”

Bruce still refused to meet your gaze. He was sure that if he did, he’d break down too. And he was close, too close to let all of this go to waste.

“Should’ve listened to them.” You whispered.

And walked out, suitcase in hand.

“Alfred, make sure you take her – “

“I’ll see to it myself, thanks. I don’t need your help.”

With these words, you were out the door, and out of Bruce’s life.

As soon as you were no longer in vision, Bruce broke down.

He sat on his bed, hiding his face in his hands. You were truly gone. Forever. He’d done what he had to, and now you were gone. It was for the best, yeah, but that’s not to say it didn’t hurt.

Alfred quietly walked into the room. The sight of his boss leaning forward, looking absolutely miserable was a low blow. Finally, he’d found a source of happiness, of peace, of solace. Finally, he’d get to see his boy grow up, start his own family.

But all of that was over now.

He wouldn’t be there to walk you down the aisle and congratulate Bruce on his wedding day. He wouldn’t be there to see him drop to his knees when he found out you were carrying his child. He wouldn’t get to teach Bruce all the little hacks he learned from caring for him as a baby, wouldn’t get to tell your child the charming love story his parents had.

Master Wayne was miserable before you.

He was sure he’d get worse now.

“Master Wayne, I’ve sent Miss Roberts on her way.” He said quietly, standing on the doorway.

“Did you pay her?”

“Yes.”

“Enough?”

“She won’t tell a soul.”

The two men remained in silent for a while. Alfred did not know what to say. He understood where Bruce was coming from. He’d tried to talk some sense into his young master’s head, but to no avail – Bruce was going through with this madness and that was it. He’d tried telling him it wouldn’t matter; you loved him and would remain by his side forever, but he wouldn’t hear it.

In his head, this was the only solution.

“She’s going to be fine,” Bruce mumbled, dropping his hands, and looking at the ground.

“You’ve broken her heart, sir.” Alfred replied.

“She’ll be fine, Alfred,” Bruce retorted harshly. “She’ll go on with her life, forget about me, and she will be safe and that’s why we’re doing this – so she’s safe!”

The older man closed his mouth. There was nothing else he could do or say. It was done, and there was no turning back.

“Will you be fine, Master Wayne?” he asked at last.

Bruce did not answer right away. He shook his head, and Alfred swore he could make out the shape of his shoulders shaking ever so slightly – was he crying?

After a few moments, Bruce finally managed to calm himself. He took a deep breath, quickly wiped away any tears that might’ve escaped, and nodded, still avoiding his butler’s gaze.

“I will be. All that matters is that she’s safe. I’ll learn to be fine.”

“Is there anything you wish, sir?”

“No, you’re dismissed.”

And so, Alfred walked away, leaving Bruce to think the last few minutes over.

He’d lost you, sure.

But he would keep an eye on you from afar. Protect you from a distance. Make sure you were doing alright and that no harm had come to you. He’d be a silent protector.

And although he was hurting, he would bottle up his emotions.

Nothing else mattered, as long as you were safe.

But keeping tabs on you had proved to be quite harder than what Bruce expected.

You’d gone completely off the map, off-grid. You’d forsaken social media and most electronics and were doing a fantastic job of keeping away from his prying eyes. He knew for a fact you’d left Gotham, but to where, he did not know exactly. His sources told him you’d probably changed your identity, not wanting to be seen as Bruce Wayne’s ex-girlfriend anymore, wanting a life of your own.

At first, Bruce was terrified.

If you changed your identity and moved away, how was he supposed to protect you? This whole thing was meant to keep you safe – how was he supposed to live without knowing if all of his and your suffering had been in vain?

“Master Wayne, I understand your concern for the Miss’s well-being.” Alfred had told him one night as Bruce was drowning his sorrows in some very-expensive liquor. “But sometimes, we must respect the choices people make for their own safety.”

“What if something happens to her, Alfred?” Bruce asked, voice raspy from exhaustion and the drink. “What if she’s in danger and I can’t reach her? What if this whole thing was for nothing?”

“Sir, part of caring for someone is respecting their decisions. Dr. Jonathan Crane is long gone, and you yourself told me the information he had died with him. There is no one after you or the ones you love anymore. And most important, there is no one after her. If she’s changed her name, it only means she’ll be safer.”

Bruce sighed. Alfred was right to some extent – as he usually was. Crane was dead, and he hadn’t told anyone about you. Changing your name and your identity would probably keep you even safer.

“I loved her, Alfred. I still do.”

“I know, Master Wayne. I did too.” Alfred sighed, placing a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder. “But you did what had to be done, now, didn’t you? You said it yourself. She is safe, and that’s all that matters.”

Bruce tried to follow that mentality.

For months, he tried to forget you.

Unfortunately, not only had you wormed your way into his heart, you’d done the same thing to his mind. He would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, swearing he could feel your lingering touch, hear your heavenly voice.

During meetings, all he could think of was how you’d usually send him funny texts and memes you found on your lunch breaks. He no longer got your calls, telling him all about the gossip you’d heard at your workplace, and how much you missed him.

The manor felt empty without your touch, your laughter, your presence. Just the mere existence of your toothbrush was enough to calm him down, to remind him you were there, and real, and his.

But he was left with nothing.

You’d gone, and with you, taken his heart.

And yet, despite all the pain, all the heartbreak, life went on.

Days passed; seasons changed.

The daily cycle continued, interrupted.

The sun rose and the sun set, a small reminder that life waited for no one. Alfred told him many times that he couldn’t dwell on the past, and while he tried to, it was hard.

Winter became spring, spring became summer.

And Bruce Wayne’s heart remained unmended.

He tried to move on – really, he did. But he wasn’t quite sure he’d achieved it. He didn’t think of you as much anymore, but he also didn’t think of much else. It was as if he was numb to the outside world, going about his daily routine as Bruce Wayne and his nightly duties as Batman automatically.

It was as if he was on autopilot. Charity galas were boring without you to make fun of everyone, fundraisers sucked if you couldn’t talk to whoever was interesting and get him to have a good time.

Life went on, but it was as if his had paused.

Alfred did his best to keep him in check. Did not allow him to go without any meals, made sure he attended whatever events he had to, and patched him up after rough patrols. He too missed your presence but knew better not to mention it to his boss. All he wanted was for the young master to go back to the person he once was.

One day, he was on his way to Wayne Enterprises. It was late in the morning, but as the CEO of the company, he could afford to be late once or twice. Not only that, but it was also only natural for Bruce Wayne to be fashionably late – even if it was to his own job.

The car suddenly came to a halt. Something underneath Bruce seemed to deflate, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Alfred?” he asked, closing his newspaper.

“I’m sorry sir, there seems to be something wrong with the tires. Perhaps you could go out and check?” The butler replied with a cheeky grin.

“Don’t I pay you enough for that?”

“Not nearly, sir.”

“How unfortunate. Well, I’m quite comfortable here, so why don’t you check it yourself?”

Alfred nodded with a small smile and exited the car.

After around 5 minutes, he looked inside the limo and sighed.

“I’m sorry sir, but we have a flat tire. But we also don’t have a spare one in the trunk, so I’ll have to call someone.”

“Really?”

“Really, sir. I’m sorry.”

Bruce shook his head, waving his newspaper dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just go by foot.”

“Are you sure, sir? It’s still a few blocks away. Perhaps we should wait until someone comes to fix it. And what if something happens to you?”

Bruce gave his butler a pointed look, raising an eyebrow, to which the older man just sighed.

“Alright, fine, you stubborn, stubborn man.”

Bruce chuckled and exited the limo, quickly making his way down the street.

It would be good, clear his head of all the torment. Walking gave him peace, made his mind feel at ease. It was as if a burden as lifted off his shoulders, even if momentarily.

Unfortunately, this respite did not last long.

He was busy looking around himself – eyes trailing the balconies of older Gotham buildings, taking in every person, every door, every window, every life that lives inside each apartment – to notice the figures before him.

But once he was content with the things he’d seen (and decided to organise some sort of charity event, since his city needed him, especially the older streets, with decaying buildings and lives he were sure must be hanging by a thread), he looked up.

And what he saw stole his breath away.

You were standing a few meters away from him, pointing at a shopwindow that had caught your eye. A friend stood by your side; arm linked with yours. He couldn’t care less about her, eyes focused on you, on the big summer hat resting on top of your head and providing shade to your face, on the beautiful smile you wore, on the way your lips moved as you spoke animatedly, on the lovely white dress you adorned.

But most importantly, his eyes were focused on the pretty swell of your belly, and on how one of your hands cupped it lovingly, and the other trailed circles on top of it. He eyed the swell of your breasts that had grown larger, the way your entire being seemed to glow. Not from the sun, just entirely from you.

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.

You were back. Back in Gotham, back in his life, back to him.

Don’t be an idiot – surely, she’s not back for you.

And how beautiful you looked, hand protectively over your belly. How dazzling, how breathtaking, how shining.

Without even realising it, Bruce stepped forward, eyes glued on your figure. You didn’t seem to notice him, still paying attention to the store in front of you. He could make out the small chatter you were having with your friend – and how much he’d missed the sound of your voice, the lovely musicality of your laughter – it made him feel lighter, fuller, happier.

“I like the blue one,” you said, turning to your friend, “And it’s rather big, so I’m sure he’ll grow into it.”

Your friend seemed to agree with you, “It’ll last for a few months, yeah. But the yellow one is pretty too, don’t you think?”

“Please. A Batman onesie? The last thing I want is my son to wear one of those. He won’t even know who he is, anyway, it’s not like I’m raising him here.” You scoffed.

The girl you were with chuckled, and only then did she notice Bruce, standing far too close.

“Um,” she poked your arm, and you turned to him.

It was as if the whole world faded away.

Your whole story played on your head. Your first meeting, spilling coffee all over his shirt, having a coffee bought by him, the countless dates you went on, dating, moving in together, living what you thought were your happiest years ever, getting proposed to, and eventually finding your husband fucking someone else.

You quickly dropped your gaze to your stomach before looking at him once again and taking a step back. It was stronger than you, an instinct to get away from this man as soon as possible.

"Hey," the words were tumbling out of Bruce's mouth before he could control himself.

When you didn't reply, he took another step forward, making you step back again.

"I have nothing to say to you," you mumbled, looking at your friend. You whispered a quick "let's go” to her and turned on your back to leave. Before you could do it, the man called out your name. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the worry, the heartbreak, the grief.

Tch, you thought, what is there for him to grieve?  You're the one who lost your relationship, your home, the chance for your child to meet his father.

"Please, listen to me," he said, and you saw in his face such vulnerability it scared you. You didn't remember the last time you'd seen Bruce like this, face looking as if he was holding on by a threat.

You were that thread, Bruce thought to himself.

"Did you not hear her?" Your friend came to your rescue, hand protectively over your shoulders. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Now leave it."

Bruce wondered if she knew him. If she knew what he'd done. Had you told anyone? Had you kept it a secret? Might've been hard to do so –  after all, tabloids had loved to exploit his breakup, plastering it all over every cover of ever magazine in Gotham. He'd paid them off to spare you from the spotlight and public eye, but it was too late. People had already begun talking; and what they were saying wasn't polite at all.

"You need to listen to me," he said softly, "You need to listen to what I have to say."

What was he doing? What was he saying? He shouldn't even be talking to you, should be keeping his distance like he'd been doing the past few months. His head told him to stay away – to turn around, go back to the pain and the sulking and the sleepless nights between empty sheets. But his heart was reaching towards you, hoping so desperately that you'd reach out too and save him from the torment he'd been living.

He knew he had no right doing this. He'd hurt you terribly – but it'd been for a good reason, no? He'd kept you safe long enough, hadn't he?

Was it selfish of him to want you back?

Because he did – desperately so. He missed your warmth and your touch. He missed your smiles in the morning and your giggles in the evening. He missed the way you scrunched your nose whenever you took a sip out of his coffee – black with one sugar. He missed the way you walked around with nothing but his shirts on when Alfred was out, teasing him to no end and relishing in the way Bruce's breath hitched when his eyes landed upon you.

But most of all, he missed the way you always comforted him and promised everything would be alright. He missed your tender touch and your warm embrace. Missed your love, and the effect it had on him.

He needed you back.

That much was certain, and he had no doubts about it.

He couldn't bear to be without you any longer. He would keep you safe – God damn it, he would, even if it was the last thing he ever did, but he couldn't be without you anymore. He couldn't live his days inside a Manor that seemed so dull without your shine, eat at a table that seemed so quiet without your chatter, and sleep in a bed that seemed so cold without your body next to his.

Your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"There's nothing you could say to me that I would possibly want to listen," you said. But your heart was hammering in your chest, and you were sure if he were to strain his ears just a bit, he'd listen to how fast it was racing.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be."

Bruce's heart fell. He was about to lose you again. He couldn't. His hand dropped to yours, and he held it tightly in between his palms.

"Please," he all but begged, "Just listen to what I have to say. And if you don't care about it, if you don't like what you hear, if you want to go, I'll let you."

"I don't care. Happy? Now let me go."

"Please."

The way he said it made your heart churn. His face was the epitome of heart break, eyes sagged, with deep dark bags under them. You knew Bruce hardly got any sleep as Batman, but this seemed too much. And there was something about the way he looked at you, as if you were some sort of mirage that could disappear within seconds.

You couldn't quite tell what it was. Perhaps it was your hormones feeling nostalgic. Perhaps it was curiosity, making you wonder what the hell he had to say to you that's so important.

Your brain yelled at you though, telling you to stay away from him. This man had ruined your life, used you and thrown you aside. You had no use for him. You deserved better.

And yet, your heart still yearned for him. You couldn't lie – as soon as you laid your eyes on him, it did a little flip, at it usually did.

As it used to do. Not anymore. You're not his anymore.

"Fine," you mumbled, shaking your head. "But not now. I'm busy."

"Yes, yes, of course," he said, nodding desperately. "When can you meet me? Tomorrow? Is tomorrow okay? Is it too soon?"

It's not soon enough, you thought. You really did not have anything else to do today but thought it better not to tell him. You couldn't give him all you wanted at once – you were afraid your poor heart couldn't take it.

Still, something inside you couldn't hide how much your heart still wanted him.

"Tomorrow is fine."

"Great, great. 4 in the afternoon? I could have Alfred pour us something? Maybe a few biscuits?"

It was endearing, how desperate he seemed to get you to sit with him. It was cute.

Stop it. He's not "cute", he ruined your life and tossed you aside. You just want closure. That's it – closure. That's all you want from him.

"Fine. Can I go now?" You asked, before shaking your head and rephrasing. "I'll be going now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait – Should I send for a driver?"

"Unless the Manor has disappeared and teleported somewhere else, I think I can manage." Saying this, you walked away, leaving Bruce at a loss for words, mouth gaping like a fish. There you were, in front of him, and just as quickly as he'd spotted you, you were gone. You were every bit as beautiful as he remembered you. He thought of your pregnant belly, and a shiver ran down your spine.

Whose baby was that? Was it his? Were you carrying another man's child? And why were you back in Gotham? Whatever reason it was, he silently thanked the heavens. It'd brought you back to him, and that's all that mattered. With a newfound sense of determination, Bruce ran back to his limo, where Alfred was still waiting for someone to fix his tire.

"Call the company," he exclaimed, out of breath and panting as he reached the older man. "Cancel all my meetings. Today's and tomorrow's."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. What the hell did his boss get into this time?

"May I ask why, sir?"

Bruce beamed.

"We have company."

Alfred had mixed emotions about you coming to visit.

On one hand, he was more than glad to see you. He missed you terribly, his book club pal, his gossiper, his nearly adoptive daughter. He looked forward to hugging you again, speaking to you, asking you how you were doing and learning how these past few months had been going for you.

On the other hand, he was positively mortified. He knew Bruce hadn't dealt very well with your absence, and he was afraid of what his young master might do now that you were here and willing to listen to him. And what would he say anyway? He knew Bruce was suffering and had never stopped loving you, but he didn't expect for him to actually try and win you back as soon as he laid eyes on you.

Sighing, he adjusted the tray on top of the kitchen counter, smiling when he heard the doorbell. Walking towards the entrance, he fixed his tie – he too wanted to look presentable for his favourite young lady – and opened it. Your sight was enough for his smile to grow wider. He took you all in, and his eyes got larger as he spotted the large bump on your stomach.

"Hey Alfred," you said, sporting a soft smile and another summer dress – this one, light green.

"Hello Miss." He replied, tears in his eyes. It made him emotional, you with your hands slowly supporting your growing stomach. He'd wanted to see this sight for so long, and while it was endearing, and you looked radiant, it was also heartbreaking that he hadn't been there to see most of it, and that neither had Bruce.

The very same question passed through his head: Whose baby were you carrying?

"You've got room for a plus one?" You asked, eyes dropping to your stomach.

"I think we can manage."

You walked inside, and hugged Alfred tightly close to you. You too saw him as family, and it had broken your heart to cut contact with him. At first, you thought about keeping his phone number and calling him occasionally; but after learning how everyone wanted to get their eyes on you, you decided that perhaps it was for the best if you ceased contact completely.

"I missed you so much, Miss. The Manor is not the same without you," he whispered, rubbing your back comfortingly.

"I missed you too, Alfred," you replied, tears forming in your eyes aswell. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I'm so sorry, I – "

"It's alright, Miss." He pulled away, looking into your eyes with that kind, warm, parental gaze of his, "I understand. I'm just glad I got to see you again."

With this, he led you towards the living room, where Bruce was already, pacing back and forth. It almost made you chuckle – big bad Bat by night, reckless playboy by day Bruce Wayne was pacing circles inside his living room, visibly worried sick.

"Master Wayne," Alfred said, signalling your arrival.

Bruce looked up and you'd think you had just offered him the cure to eternal life or something by the way his gaze held yours.

"Hey," he said, walking towards you, but thinking better of it and standing a few steps away from you. He held forward his hand, hoping that you'd somehow shake it. You did not, and he dropped it.

"Would you like something to drink? Alfred prepared coffee."

"I don't drink coffee. It makes me nauseous." You softly placed your hands on your stomach, and Bruce got the hint immediately,

"Yes – yes, of course. I'm sorry." He mumbled, running a hand through his hair. By the look of it, tousled and unkempt, you figured he'd been doing that quite a lot for at least the past half hour. "Is there anything else you'd like, though? A cup of water, perhaps some tea?"

"Tea would be fine, thank you." You turned to look at Alfred when you said these words, although Bruce could tell immediately they weren't for him by the way your voice was coated in sugar –  something he knew he hadn't earned just yet. "You still know my favourite?"

"Of course, Miss," Alfred nodded politely with a smile, "I'll get it for you right away," and made his way towards the kitchen.

You and Bruce remained in silence for a while before he seemingly broke out of a trance.

"Please, do sit down."

You did so, carefully tucking a pillow behind your back, you stretched your legs ever so slightly and sighed in relief, hands resting on top of your stomach. "There, there", you mumbled, "All comfy, aren't we?"

Bruce eyed you and your stomach. There were so many things he wanted to ask you, and yet he did not know where to begin. Should he address the elephant in the room? Should he let you speak about it? What if you did not want to talk about it? Maybe the child wasn't even his – you could've moved on and started a life without him. He has no right to ask.

"You're looking..." he began. You waited for a continuation, and it surely came, seconds after. "Beautiful. Radiant."

"Thank you," was your polite response. You looked around the room – nothing had changed. Still the same paintings up on the walls, still the same portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne holding a very tiny and very happy Bruce, still the same scent of lavender and books.

Still home.

"How have you been?" he asked, sitting down on the couch positioned next to yours, and trying his best to relax.

"How have I been?" you repeated. He wanted to catch up? Really? As if everything you had together in the past had meant nothing?

"Yes," he nodded, gesturing towards yourself. "How have you been these past few months?"

You scoffed. Fine. If he wanted to do this, then he would see it through until the very end.

"Oh, I'm doing just fine, Bruce." You said, venom evident in your words, dripping off them. "In fact, these last few months have been the jolliest of my life. The man I was in a relationship with, who's also the man who had proposed to me broke up because he said he did not love me anymore, and was fucking some random woman when I walked in on him, then he kicked me out of our home, had to go live in a hotel room for a few weeks before I finally got a place far, far away from his prying eyes, cutting edge technology and vigilante alter ego, then I have to deal with gossip magazines wanting to photograph my face and get some sort of statement from me, going as far as to trying to break into my house just to find out what truly happened."

Bruce winced at the harshness of your words. You'd had some terrible couple of months, clearly, and he didn't know what to say.

"But hey! How have you been, Bruce? How's life?" You were being sarcastic – that much was evident, and although he did deserve every ounce of cruelty you gave him, it also hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "You can't imagine just how sorry I am... And how much I regret what happened."

"Ah," you sneered, twisting your face in disgust, "Is this why you invited me here? Because you regret hooking up with whoever that was back then? Got into a mess you couldn't undo? Miss me, oh so much, and need me back?"

Each word was like a dagger being plunged into Bruce's heart. Had heartbreak turned you so bitter?

No, not bitter. You were right, after all.

"I'm sorry," he said your name softly, sighing deeply. "I need to tell you something."

"And I'm sure I can't wait to hear whatever it is." You scoffed. Alfred quickly entered the living room, placing a tray with two mugs on the coffee table in front of you. He carefully handed you one of them, before walking away. Bruce's nose scrunched. Ouch.

"Thank you," you smiled at the butler, took a sip out of the mug, and sighed contentedly. "This man makes the best tea I've ever drank."

"He really does. But as I was saying, I need to tell you something."

"Bruce, I don't want to hear sob stories. I didn't come here to hear you whine and moan and complain about your life. I'm sure you suffered a lot, but I am not really interested." There you went again, sarcasm coming naturally to you and your words.

"I just need to tell you what really happened."

Another sneer.

"I saw what really happened Bruce. Stop it with the bullshit."

"Just – " Bruce took another deep breath. "Please. Just listen to me without any interruptions, please. If you want to scream at me and yell and slap me and punch me after, then that's okay."

"Tempting."

"But please, just let me speak."

"Okay."

Bruce looked at you in surprise. Okay? Just like that? So willingly?

"That's why I came here, isn't it? Please get it over with."

The man before you nodded. He wasn't going to sugarcoat things. It was time for you to know the truth.

"Back when we were engaged," he began, "There was this one night I went on patrol. And everything was going fine, until I ran into Crane."

You furrowed your brows. "Crane?" Then, you remembered what he'd said about interrupting, and muttered a quick "Sorry, go on."

"I ran into Crane."

It was almost as if Bruce could see the whole thing playing before him. The darkness of the night, the faint smell of the Scarecrow's fear toxin, the one he was immune to. It was all so clear in his mind – after all, that night was the beginning of the end.

"He started talking to me. Trying to get into my head, as he usually did. But that time was different. He... He started talking about me, my own personal life, my identity. And then he mentioned you." His gaze fell on you, and you were met with hopelessness and despair. It was heart-wrenching.

"He knew you. Knew you, he knew who you were, knew who I am. He threatened to tell Arkham City residents our identities. He threatened to hurt you if I didn't help him."

Your face was pale with worry.

"And what did you do? You didn't help him, did you? It's Crane!"

"The GCPD intervened and killed him on the spot. Some rookie officer convinced it was the best thing to do. Crane was holding a phone in his hand when he died. It contained files, files about all those close to me. I got to delete everything just before he sent it."

You listened attentively. No one had ever gotten as close to unmask Bruce. Well, no one until Crane. You had heard of his death, but only thought it was a good thing that such a criminal was out of the streets.

"And I..." Bruce hesitated. This was the hard part, telling you what he'd done, the hard choice he'd made. "I thought... It was unthinkable to lose you. I just couldn't. Crane had gotten too close. I was terrified darli – " he quickly corrected himself, switching to your name. "I couldn't lose you... I barely slept that night, thinking of what could've happened to you."

In your face, Bruce could see some recognition. Were you putting the pieces together? Did you know?

"I thought..." he continued, "I thought I had to keep you safe. And in my mind, you'd never be safe if you were with me. As long as you were associated with Bruce Wayne, you'd be in constant danger."

"No..." you mumbled, shaking your head,

"And you're so stubborn..." Bruce's eyes shed with unshed tears, voice carrying an amount of emotion you weren't familiar with. "You'd never listen to me. You'd stick by my side and argue that you loved me and didn't care about the danger..."

"You didn't..." you covered your mouth.

"So, the only plausible explanation was driving you away."

The tension shifted immediately in the room. Bruce couldn't tell what was going through your head, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"I paid someone to put on that little show with me, that day. I knew you were coming home early. It pained me so much to do it, I swear..."

"I can't believe this..." you stood up, attempting to do it quickly but failing because of your stomach. "I can't believe you would do that."

Bruce remained sitting, not wanting to distress you any further.

"Please, you have to understand – everything I did was for your protection."

"So you cheated on me to drive me away!?"

"We were going to get married! If you shared my name, you'd share your enemies, and I promised I would never drag you into my other life. I promised to keep you safe."

"Yeah!" You threw your arms up in the air in frustration. "So! You could've taught me martial arts! Gifted me a taser! Taught me how to throw a punch, give me a gun or something! Instead, you thought the brightest idea was to dump me?"

"It hurt like hell; it really did. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat – I was in hell without you." Bruce was getting desperate. This is not how he wanted things to go, not how he'd pictured it going. You were freaking out, understandably so, but some part of him was hoping you would understand. Would you ever?

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" You were getting angry now. This whole conversation was pissing you off.So Bruce had broken your heart because he wanted to protect you!? "We're two responsible adults, Bruce! You could've told me what happened."

"I couldn't. You would've never agreed to stay away from me."

"Exactly! Because I love you! I'd have stuck with you through thick and thin!"

Bruce was so engaged in the argument; he missed your slip. Love, not loved. Present tense.

"And that was precisely what I didn't want to happen! I didn't want to come home one night and found you dead on the ground or kidnapped! I was doing it all for you!"

"By breaking my heart."

"It had to be done."

"It didn't.

"I was thinking of you."

"How old are we, Bruce!? 16? 17? Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Alfred had tried to exit the perimeter. He didn't want to be anywhere near you two, but decided against that decision. Someone had to be able to step in and protect the young master. He was positive that given the chance, you'd throw something at him, and that was sure to leave a mark. He didn't doubt your abilities.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce pleaded, "But once again, please understand. I was just doing what i thought was best."

"You left me!"

"I was protecting you!"

"You left me, Bruce!" You yelled, unable to fight back your tears. Once again, you didn't know what got you so agitated. Maybe your hormones, maybe the lingering feelings you deep down still had for the man sitting down before you. "I loved you; I needed you by my side, and you left me! Because you thought someone was coming after me? You said it yourself – Crane did not send the files to anyone. We were safe. We were fine. And you went and destroyed everything we had because of some fear you had?"

It was Bruce's turn to stand up, defensively placing his hands in front of his chest.

"I couldn't lose you. Please, please, you have to forgive me. I was such an idiot, I shouldn't have done it, I know. I miss you – I miss you so much, I have for the past few months, I can't live without you."

"I couldn't live without you either and had to make do! I still have to!"

"There was an uncomfortable silence as the last few words hung in the air. It was then that Bruce decided to finally ask the question he'd been meaning to ever since he first saw you on the street.

"Is the child mine?"

You widened your eyes, looking away from him. Your hands instinctively went to your stomach.

"You have no right to ask that."

"Please. Just... Is it mine?"

You thought it over. There was no use in hiding it. The child would most likely grow up to look like him, bear his eyes and smile, scrunch his nose in the way his father did when confused. And for all it was worth, Bruce deserved to know. He wasn't a bad person, and you knew he'd be a good father.

"Yes," you mumbled, softly.

Bruce didn't hesitate to ask his next question.

"When did you find out?"

"A few days later. I was all by myself, and so scared, Bruce..." Sitting down, you looked at the floor, finding a sudden interest in examining your shoes. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done... Bearing this child all by myself, without you... As soon as my stomach started showing, I had to get out of here. Tabloids were going crazy, and I didn't want you finding out. I just wanted a normal life for him."

"Him?"

"Yeah. I know for sure, it's a little boy. I love him so much already..."

Bruce sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He knew he'd screwed things up the first morning he woke up without you by his side, but this was simply too much.

"I love you." The determination with which he said it took you by surprise. "I always have. I never stopped. I'm sorry for what I did. Fuck, I'm an idiot. I knew I would put you through hell, and I still did it because it would be the best for you. I'm so sorry."

These words did not fall on deaf ears. You were listening, hung up on every word. Bruce was right there, right in front of you, apologizing and confessing he still loved you. And didn't you love him back? Hadn't you spent countless nights crying over his absence, wishing it were his fingers wiping away the tears that refused to stop, wishing that he was there next to you the moment you realised you were pregnant, wishing he would hug you tightly, kiss your forehead and assure you everything would be fine? That it had all been a very bad nightmare and you were back at home with his body wrapped around yours?

"I... I don't know how I should feel," you said. Which was partially true. Some part of you did still love him, but he'd put you through too much heartache. You weren't about to just forgive him and kiss all his worries away and pretend nothing had ever happened. "You really hurt me, Bruce... I don't know if I can go through that again. What if someone else gets a hold of my information? Of your identity? Are you going to push me away again? Push our son away?"

Bruce looked at you, eyebrows furrowed, and in one quick motion, was down on one knee, hands desperately wanting to rest on top of yours. "I promise," his voice was soft, and it reminded you of your sweet Bruce, of the man you'd fallen in love with and were ready to love forever, "It won't happen again. I'll do better next time. Hell, there won't even be a next time. I promise. I can't live without you."

"Bruce, I... It's not as simple as that..."

"You don't love me anymore?"

"That's not what I said."

"So you do?" A hint of a smile.

"Gosh, Bruce, stop it! What you did was terrible – it destroyed me. Those were the worst months of my life, you have no idea how it felt to be me, alone and pregnant and scared! You can't just waltz back into my life and tell me you love me and are sorry. I don't trust you anymore. It's just not that simple."

"I understand."

Bruce sighed and stood up.

"I just wanted to tell you the truth, anyway. You deserve it. I'm really sorry for what I did."

Once again, you're basked in silence. This time, it was you who broke it, with a question of your own, one that had plagued you ever since he told you everything was staged.

"Did you sleep with her?" Your voice was meek, fragile. Did you want to know the truth?

"No." Bruce answered with determination. "We didn't have sex. I wasn't really naked."

Your eyes widened.

"I guess you were too mad to notice." He smiled sadly.

You looked away at the ground.

Somehow, it did make you a little more at ease that he hadn't really had sex with that woman. It didn't erase all of your pain but gave you some slight respite.

"Have you been with anyone, after..."

"No." He answered again. "There was never anyone else. Never could be. There was only just you. There's always been just you."

You nodded thoughtfully.

"Would you like to feel your son?"

"Huh?"

"He's kicking. Would you?"

Bruce gave you an enthusiastic nod and sat beside you, allowing you to guide your hands to the exact spot the baby was kicking him. Sure enough, he felt something press against his hand repeatedly. He chuckled, automatically leaning forward to feel it better.

"Hey there, little guy," he whispered. "I can't believe you're real."

You stood there for a while, him by your side, hand on top of your stomach. It felt weird, but in a comforting way. It was just you and Bruce and your unborn child, and you somehow felt like things were okay. Everything was fine.

"I've never stopped loving you either," you said after a while. Bruce turned to you, allowing you to speak. "When I found out I was pregnant, all I wanted was to call you, let you know we were finally going to be parents...

"I can't promise that things will return immediately to the way they were. I can't promise I won't be mad at you, because I am, I really am."

You shifted in your seat to face him better. Your eyes trailed his face; how you missed it. The lovely cheekbones you loved to trace on lazy Sunday afternoons, the forehead you loved to kiss on clingy mornings. He looked just as bit as handsome as he did the last time you'd seen him. His eyebags were deeper and more sagged, but that didn't stop him from being the most handsome man you had ever laid your eyes upon.

"But... I'm willing to try."

Bruce's head shot up.

What?

"You really hurt me, Bruce. I thought I’d never be happy again, thought my life would be ruined forever. I thought I'd lost the love of my life." Your voice failed. "But... although your idea was just terrible, you might have had the best intentions in mind. I just... Wish you'd have spoken to me first."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It killed me inside, it really did. But everything I do has always been for you. You must know that. Must know that every decision I take, good or bad, light or not, is always with you in thought." This time, Bruce did not avert his gaze. He was done looking away, done hiding, done being without you. Should this be the last time he ever saw you, he lingered on your face, committing it to memory. Your pretty eyes, the beautiful shape of your nose, your slightly parted lips. Had anyone ever been this beautiful?

"I know," you replied, giving him hope. "Which is why... Why I'm..." It took a deep breath and a few circles rubbed on top of your stomach to calm you down. This was a huge decision to make. Allowing Bruce back into your life could either be the greatest thing you would do, or possibly the worst. There was no middle-ground, and it scared you. You needed a middle-ground, needed a safety net, needed something that did not put your unborn son's life at risk.

And yet... You couldn't help but still want Bruce. You knew it. Your heart knew it. It still beat for him as loudly as it did the first time he'd kissed you, the time he'd asked you to be his, the first time you woke up with him by your side. You knew his intentions were good. His idea was terrible – fucking terrible – and it had only cost you pain and sadness. But you also knew Bruce made reckless decisions when it came to you. He was in love, and he was extremely protective. He had no one aside from Alfred and you and knew damn well he couldn't get rid of the old butler even if he tried; but would try his hardest to get rid of you if it only meant you got to live another day.

It was both endearing and soul-crushing, as things often were with Bruce.

"Which is why I'm willing to give you another chance."

Bruce released a sigh of release, and dropped his head to his hands, unable to say a word.

"Again, I can't promise I'll forgive you over night. I've just had the worst few months of my life. I won't fall back into your arms immediately. But I want to give you a chance to make things right."

It was only when you saw his shoulders shake, that you realised Bruce was sobbing. You placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and felt him shake his head.

"Bruce?" you asked, "Please talk to me, are you alright?"

He looked up at you and smiled. You quickly realised they were tears of joy.

"I love you so, so much. And I will spend every day of my life for as long as I shall live showing it. I'll make things right. I know I can't take back these past few months, and I know I can't magically take away the pain – nor can I wish for your forgiveness all at once. But I'll make it up to you. Forever. That is my promise to you. Because I love you. Fuck, it's insane how much I love how much I always have. You're my family, and I never want to be parted from you. Ever again."

He reached towards your face, his fingers wiping away something wet. Were you crying? Surely tears of joy too.

"I love you too, Bruce. I never really stopped."

He nodded and leaned closer to your face, eyes dropping to your lips. It was a small question, but he wanted to be sure.

"Is this okay? Can I?" he asked, eyes never leaving your mouth. "Please?" The last question was whispered so softly, you were actually not sure if you'd actually heard it, or just imagined it.

You replied in kind.

"Please."

And without missing a beat, he pressed his lips against yours.

His kiss was familiar. It felt like home. Bruce kissed slowly, taking his time. He was learning you all over again, tongue playfully fighting with yours. His hand cupped your cheek, and he brought you closer to him. It felt nice, it felt familiar, it felt like home.

You still perfectly in his arms, and the thought made Bruce smile into your kiss, pouring even more of himself into it. You gave back tenfold, pressing against him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You missed this. Missed him. Missed not knowing where you ended and he began, missed feeling the soft beat of his heart against your chest, missed the soft groans that rumbled in his chest, missed being enveloped by him.

When you two eventually parted for air, he did not rest, kissing every inch of your face, until you were smiling and giggling and holding his face in place so you could look him in the eye.

"I love you." You spoke.

"I love you too," he replied, before caressing your stomach. "I promise I'll be here for him. I love him so much already. I'll spoil this boy rotten, give him everything he ever needs."

You smiled.

Your life had taken quite a nasty turn after Bruce had "cheated" on you and dumped you. Back then, you thought it was merely because he was, after all, the billionaire playboy everyone accused him of being. Now, you knew it was only because he loved you more than anything and wanted to keep you safe. Yes, he had hurt you, and you wouldn't forget that so easily – but it had still been an action out of love.

You'd been so lost the day you found out you were pregnant, crying on the bathroom of a hotel, clutching your stomach, and feeling like shit.

But right now, with Bruce by your side, his hands on your stomach and cheek, and his eyes regarding you with such tenderness, such warmth, you knew all would be fine.

You'd finally found each other again.

A/N: Whew!!!! We made it!!! Yay!!!! Okay so, in case you've made it this far and are interested to find out what the hell happened to me, just keep on reading!

So, as I mentioned before, I just got back to uni. It's killing me. It's kicking my ass. I've been sleeping less than 5 hours per day, and am currently losing my sanity. I don't have the time to sleep, to study, to write. There's so much to do and it's only the second week, and I'm really sorry for the delay, but things have been hectic. I can't remember the last time I slept more than like, 5 hours.

So, this fic is a bit longer than my other 200 Followers Event one. Here's the thing: I got a lovely request from @xxemmarldxx, but in my mind, it was far too big, and far too ambitious for a short 2/3k word drabble (which was the point of my event). So I told her I would do it properly some other time, because it was just too good, but would end up being way too big.

A few days later, I get this request. And they're very similar. Like, really, really similar. So I was like "You know what. Let's combine them. How about we combine the two, and write a big ass drabble the way I wanted to?"

This is the result. I've been writing this for the past week, and to be fair, it was KILLING ME. I was writing in every possible break, using every free space possible to get a few words in, and at some point, I started seeing it more as a "chore" than something I wanted to do. It became "the fic I need to finish", sort of like a burden. And it's not the requesters fault!!! It's just, I was so busy that, in the middle of everything, I couldn't find joy in writing because I was so stressed.

I'm sorry if this piece is bad. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I think I've done much better in the past, and this is not my best work. The word count got away from me and by the end I was just freaking out because I couldn't write anymore. And that was a real bummer because I love writing and I loved this request so much.

I hope you guys liked reading it and enjoyed it! I really do! I think that for a while I won't be able to write Bruce hahaha, I got a bit tired.

Anyways, I hope you're all having an amazing day!!! <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfiction #the dark knight fanfic #nolanverse fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman x reader #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

[elleloquently]

| a/n : female!reader who is quite girly and soft. i wrote this purely for fun so it might be a little self indulgent but i'm sharing it anyway... craving lemonade. have you ever had lavender lemonade? it's my favorite. song suggestions because i'm feeling nostalgic - work song: hozier... georgia: vance joy... from eden: hozier... i think that's all. if you read this, thank you <3

nothing sweeter - ellie williams

jackson was beginning to be enveloped by the summer sun, and you couldn't have been happier.

you didn't mind the way that the sun made you squint, or having to messily pull up your hair when the heat around your neck started to feel too overwhelming, only to realize that you had forgotten to place a hair tie on your wrist that morning.

frantically waving your hand in the heat was enough to make you feel heavy with sleep, but you continued anyway, determined not to allow your favorite friend to suffer from persistent, pesky flies.

"poor girl," you cooed, running your hand along shimmer's neck. always happy to accept your affections, shimmer inhaled quickly, puffing the breath out through her nostrils with a vibrating purr.

an easy laugh escaped you, tracing a delicate finger along the white strip down her nose.

"should've known i'd find you in here."

the familiar voice prompts an immediate smile to blossom onto your lips, one that your girlfriend would certainly argue was more beautiful than any of the flowers blooming in jackson.

"were you looking for long?" you question apologetically, eyebrows pinching together as you turned to face your visitor.

ellie shakes her head. she wore a tank top and a short sleeved, baggy button up, though it remained unbuttoned in her usual style.

"not long," she assures, pressing a brief kiss to the worried crease on your forehead. you relaxed at once, eyes fluttering shut as your cheeks warmed.

"i'm sorry i didn't wait," you mumble anyway.

ellie swats at your apology, strands of auburn slipping from the bun that held half of her hair. "you're here early today," she observed.

you nodded enthusiastically, a soft sigh exiting before your explanation. you usually went home first after work, normally to eat while asking ellie about her day and then confiding in her about yours.

today was different, prompted by the weather. perhaps a little sunshine really was good for the soul. everyone seemed happier today. even ellie looked more relaxed than usual, eyes bright while you spoke.

"i know," you enthuse. shimmer nudges your arm. "it's just so beautiful today, isn't it? we didn't have the heart to keep the kids indoors... i mean, we could've had class outside but then really, what's the point?"

you were somewhat of a teacher in jackson, helping out with the younger children. there were actual teachers, too, people who went to school and had fancy qualifications, once upon a time. you were a notorious babysitter, sweet and patient and first on the list when the school needed a bit more help. you were happy to oblige, finally feeling as though you had found your footing.

you were hopeless for patrol, never quite got comfortable with the feeling of a gun weighing down your hand. it was fulfilling, teaching at the school. it was your second favorite place in jackson, the first being anywhere with the animals that you adored.

"i think i could guess who the ring leader for that idea was..." ellie mused, looking at you with nothing but adoration in her eyes.

your eyes widening was enough confirmation and one corner of ellie's mouth quirked up, a lopsided grin.

"it was just too nice," you defended meekly.

ellie rolled her eyes, a false twinge of annoyance coating her tone but you knew she was only joking. "so you're the reason why i got harassed by loud children on my walk over? this time of day is usually peaceful."

you playfully shoved at her arm, not enough to make ellie even sway.

"hey," you warned, voice soft.

shimmer huffs and you raise your hand, scratching under her chin.

"so you came here to spoil shimmer?" ellie accuses, patting her horse as well.

"she deserves it," you grin, brushing your hands together to rid them of any dust.

"yeah? she's not the only one," ellie offers you her hand, fingers flexing while she waits. "let's get you home, ring leader."

your cheeks warmed and you graciously accept, interlocking your fingers with ellie's.

"how was it this morning, by the way?" you ask, shielding your eyes with your free hand as you exit the stables. the path is dusty but the nearby grass is so lush, it's a sight for sore eyes.

walking alongside ellie must've been a sight too, for any other resident in jackson. her clothes were dusty and faded from her early patrol, surely she needed to shower yet, and a cut was healing on her chin. she nearly always had a frown etched onto her lips. tense. you were well put together, considering, the only filth being that on your hands as evidence from a trip to the stable.

a pretty petal and her weed, ellie once joked, but you were quick to scold her for it.

"quiet," ellie informed you. you squeezed her hand and held yourself steady, determined not to lose your footing if you were just going to stare at her. "i was with dina today. not much infected, either."

you nodded sleepily along with her words. "i was thinking of maybe trying to make lemonade today?"

ellie perked up at your suggestion, and the reaction made your heart swell. "i have some things left over, still good but unused... think m'gonna trade around for a shit ton of lemons."

ellie snorted as you swore. it was comical in context and ellie felt soft towards you, desperate to get home and out of the sun. she hadn't seen you all day and she felt greedy now, bitterly jealous at the idea of you leaving again right away, sharing your smiles and polite nature with everyone else around town.

"i'll get you lemons," ellie doesn't offer so much as she tells you.

your eyebrows draw together slowly. "oh?"

"you should rest awhile, those kids have got to drive you wild," she mutters, to which you respond with an easy laugh.

"ellie, it's fine. doesn't lemonade sound good? it does to me, i think."

"anything coming from you would be good," ellie quips, and you bump against her. you love her this time of year, her freckles are so visible in the sun.

“so let me get the lemons,” you negotiate. “it won’t take long, promise.”

it won’t take long is an understatement. the people of Jackson share things as a community, and trading has been your way of shopping. despite the guidelines and your good natured heart, ellie was sure that there were a handful of people that would offer up all of their lemons for less than nothing if you so much as knocked on their door.

it was too warm to debate. ellie sighed reluctantly and you knew you had won, already imagining the sweetness that was soon to make your lips pucker.

"you can help if you want, only if you aren't too busy," you happily offered, tilting to your head to look at ellie.

"never too busy for you," ellie replied, almost offended that you would even think so.

you're giggly today and maybe you really have had too much sun.

ellie steps in front of you and pulls open the front door, leaning back in order to give you space to walk inside first.

your house is so dark compared to the sunlit, bright blue sky outside. you blink rapidly, trying to adjust your eyes in the new light.

ellie breathes in deeply and decides to take off her converse at the door. you had cleaned recently, she could tell.

even though you didn't grow up in the house, you've made it your own overtime. you never wanted to feel as though you were intruding in someone else's space. it took months upon months and lots of effort, but it felt like you. it was another thing that ellie appreciated about you, you certainly had a knack for turning a house into a home. she hoped to move in soon.

you beeline for a window, using both arms to push it open. the warm breeze filters inside and you hum, satisfied.

standing on your toes to draw back the curtains, you look over your shoulder to meet ellie's gaze.

"i was thinking i could make extra, we could take it to joel?"

a smile came to ellie naturally. your thoughtfulness was endearing, and ellie could tell you've been thinking about it and planning all day.

"sounds good," she replies, reaching out to brush your hair behind your ear.

you're pleased so you grin, hanging onto the feeling of ellie's thumb grazing your cheek.

"okay," you mumble, suddenly feeling as though you were rapidly losing all of your motivation. you pull away from ellie, who reaches out once again, entrapping you in her grasp.

"just five more minutes?" ellie asks, her tone nonchalant but her green eyes were pleading.

you throw your head back and groan in protest, but you both already know that you'll give in. "you're such a dork," you accuse.

"so... yes?" ellie asks hopefully, holding both of your hands in her own.

"yes," you grumble. "just five minutes," you solidify, but ellie is already pulling you closer before you can finish your sentence.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou x reader #ellie williams fanfic

[cheekinpermission]

Happy 500 followers!!

How about 1 and 10 for the ask game?

Thank you for you participation, anon! Ask game is here! Send them in if you want <3

1. Who's hand did you first grab? Why? Would you choose someone else if you could do it over again?

I grabbed Idia's hand! When I first got into TWST, I had absolutely no clue what I was getting into so I really just went based on which voice actors I recognized LOL. I know Kōki Uchiyama from a ton of different anime (JJK, Buddy Daddies, Haikyuu, BNHA, Yuri on Ice, etc.) so I just went with his character. While Idia doesn't crack the top 5 for me, I don't think I'd choose again. The only reason I would is if it impacted the story somehow but I really doubt it will. I'm COMITTED.

10. Top five favorite characters?

Grim occupies all top five spots. BUT since that's boring, so I'll limit my choices to the main cast lmao. (My love for the dire beast is PROFOUND) I got VERY wordy here so here's the short answer: 1. Riddle Rosehearts

2. Vil Schoenheit

3. Malleus Draconia

4. Ruggie Bucchi

5. Kalim Al-Asim Explanation below the cut! (I got very excited to talk about my favorites and wrote a lot so I figured I'd condense it for people who didn't want to scroll through it all lol whoopsies.)

1. Riddle Rosehearts - I have no explanation for this?? He's pretty much the opposite of my usual favorite characters so idk what happened here. I've always been drawn to the Alice in Wonderland aesthetic so maybe that has something to do with it? He's got such great character writing, too?? Everything about his personality just makes sense when you know his backstory. When we learn that Riddle's tyrant of a mother was strict and controlling over him, the pieces just seem to fall into place. His whole life was just following her rules and studying like a good little boy, and when he stepped out of line even a little bit he was reprimanded harshly for it. Of course, he's going to the exact same thing once he's in a position of power. It's all he knows. He's just another version of his mother. Not only does he uphold the tradition of punishing rule breakers rather severely as he was when he was younger, I think there's also an element of fear there as well. Like, his mother just instilled an innate fear of breaking rules because bad things would happen if he didn't follow them exactly. I really do see Riddle as a scared little boy who is suddenly realizing that he was set up for failure by his own mother. And THEN he makes an honest effort to improve himself post-overblot?? His transformation after the fact is one of the more obvious ones and I'm just so proud of him. A THOUSAND HEAD PATS!! Okay, I'll stop rambling about him lmao I love Riddle sm (Also want to make clear I'm not saying Riddle was right for anything he did, only that I appreciate how his character was handled. Added for legal purposes so people don't come after me :c ) 2. Vil Schoenheit - This one comes as no surprise to me. Pretty boys who challenge gender stereotypes are RIGHT up my alley. Like Riddle, I think Vil has some great character writing is one of the more complex characters in the game. He just feels so compassionate to me?? I don't know how to explain it - he just gives such nurturing vibes. I'd trust this man with my drink at a bar fr fr. And then he tells Epel off for saying ballet is too "girly" for him?? Thank you TWST for bringing me this man. I pray at the altar of Vil Schoenheit. 3. Malleus Draconia - Doesn't Malleus top everyone's lists LOL I think my favoritism for the dragon man is more to do with his relationship with Yuu than anything else tbh. He's like one of three characters that actively engages with the main character and I think they've got such a fun relationship. Two people who feel very alone in the world finding friendship (or something more for you malleyuu shippers) in each other is so beautiful. I'm glad they can be there for each other like that. Side note: I adore romantic Malleyuu for sure, but I think it's equally as endearing if all of Malleus's flirtatious lines were never meant to be romantic but he's just really bad at communicating his feelings in a platonic way. Like, he doesn't mean to flirt he's just socially inept. 4. Ruggie Bucchi - Gremlin hyena boy is just too good for words. Ngl, I started off not really liking Ruggie all that much because of what he did in the Savanaclaw book. My mans was basically shoving people down flights of stairs?? I'm not really sure where the turn around happened tbh. Mischievous personality types do tend to draw me in in fiction so that probably has a lot to do with it. I also felt really bad for him at the end of the Savanaclaw book when Leona was ready to Thanos him out of existence despite everything Ruggie had done for him (and continues to do for him). I appreciate his work ethic, I can respect the hustle, and he's got such a cute little laugh. I wanna pet those big ole ears of his. Leona - pay this man more smh 5. Kalim Al-Asim - SUNSHINE BOY!!

He's such a breath of fresh air in this game LMAO. As much as I love the fact that most of the cast are unapologetically flawed, it's nice to have a few characters that are genuinely good people. His VA (Kazuki Furuta) absolutely kills it imo. I can hear his laugh in my head as I'm typing this - it's just so warm and happy :D He also breaks the sterotype of most rich characters in media by just being a nice person? He's not evil or greedy (although naive and entitled) and he just wants to be bffs with Jamil. Break his heart Jamil and we're gonna have WORDS. Also just like FORGAVE JAMIL??? His bfffl yeeted him across the desert, brainwashed him and admitted to wanting to get him kicked from the school and Kalim didn't really hold it against him. He was so understanding and sweet about everything AHHHHH

#I TOLD YOU I GET WORDY AJDKSAJD #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts #twst vil #vil schoenheit #malleus draconia #twst malleus #ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie #kalim al asim #twst kalim #cheekinrambles #thank you for the ask! #twst ask game

[stanfordprepped]

Why I Haven't Been On Sam.

I think it's time to address the elephant in the room: why being on Sam has been so difficult. And not just a few minute details. But an actual explanation since so many of you have been so kind and have followed me for so long. I am hoping to get back on him at some point. When I feel ready. I will be placing the reasons below the cut as triggering topics are inbound. Just in case anyone who knew what the reason was and or/have been involved in that whole horrible mess...Don't worry. I won't be mentioning anything to do with you. I won't be naming names. I won't be saying a word about all that. I want to protect your peace and privacy. I always will. That said, reasons below the cut :

Through my Sam Winchester blog, I met another roleplayer. I will not be mentioning their name either because what good will that do when 1) they are gone, and 2) I am never going to stoop to their levels. This roleplayer started out very sweet and kind. Our characters had a wonderful connection. They started reaching out to other roleplayers I was close to, as well as me. We all liked them and trusted them dearly. Eventually, a relationship was formed between myself and this roleplayer. They became a part of my friend group. We all even thought of each other as family. But slowly, things started to change. That person became more vindictive, hateful, and rude when things did not go their way. They would even try to rope me in via guilting if I did not help or trying to make me feel like they were being mistreated so I'd say something. I didn't realize what they were doing at first. That they were manipulating me into doing what they wanted. Time went on and it started becoming far more frequent. They started lashing out at everyone and if I wasn't on their side then it turned on me. Eventually, we all parted ways. Thank god. Because those people were smart for getting out. And I'm so very glad that they did and that they are all safe. The deeper things got, the more info this person had on me. Hell, we'd even met and spent four days together at one point. They met my child. They'd been to my house. Even when I started seeing the horrible way they were acting, I was too scared to leave. I could only use their aesthetics they made for me. I had to respond to them first on everything. I had to answer discord rps daily or they got angry. There were so many horrible fights. So many horrible things said to me. I had never felt so low. I couldn't do anything right. i was always upsetting them. I spent a lot of days crying. or pushing myself to write on Sam. Eventually, I snapped and got the hell out of there. Ever since, it's been hard to write here. It's hard to look at Sam the same way. And since that person wrote Dean for a short spell, it's kinda hard to look at Dean too. I just have an awful taste in my mouth. I'm still healing...I'm sorry everyone. for taking so long. I am still so messed up. I feel the need to apologize for anything and everything. I am constantly defensive. I am still anxious.]]

#&& what kind of house doesn't have salt? [ooc] #&& tw: abuse mention #&& tw: heavy topics.

[roseworth]

vote in my poll boy but also im gonna skew my own results by giving my opinion. here’s my personal ranking of rose writers

sean mckeever: FRESH HELL <3 literally THE rose book. also tt03 #57 slayed. he ALMOST gets knocked down on the list because a) the fucking shitshow that was terror titans and b) he backtracked on like 3 different character arcs as soon as he started writing tt and it pisses me off. but he redeemed himself with fresh hell

geoff johns: i hate johns so much. but he solidified sooo much about rose as a character that he has pretty much the definitive rose. what he did completely defined rose's relationship with her father and her attitude towards the titans/being a hero in general. whether they realize it or not, every rose writer after johns is writing his version of her. as much as i hate him he is one of the best rose writers and i will stand by that

christopher priest: i have not made it a secret that i love ds16. there are some aspects of his characterization that i dont agree with but for the most part he killed it tbh. hating her dad but still coming back to him, loving her brother but still keeping him at arms length, HOSUN!!! HER HMONG FAMILY!!!!!!! ily priest

ed brisson: SLAY. the only reason he's not higher is because i dont like the fact in general that she chose to be on stormwatch (she would not do that), and he used baby rose in ktr and didnt even mention lili (and DID mention that foster family. im still mad). other than that!!! everything about her struggle to be a good person in batb was soooo good, and so much about ktr was so good for her <3 thank u mr brisson

marv wolfman: i feel a little bad not ranking him higher given that. he created rose. but she doesnt really do much in the issues he writes. which is fair given that she was a new character that was just made to hang around on the sidelines at the time, so theres not a lot to judge in his writing. but he definitely laid the foundation that johns expanded on, and he was the one that made her so uh thnx marv

jt krul: i wish he had gotten more time :( i wish he had gotten to do whatever he was planning with lili, i wish we could've gotten to see more of his rose. his rose was def a different take than before given that she was more... mellowed out ig? it was a lot more lighthearted, just her hanging out with the team, being an older sister to damian (<3), and looking for her mom. hes not my fav just because i like it when shes a crazy bitch instead of a normal girl, but i completely understand why people like his rose. not to mention tt03 #77-78 slays so unbelievably hard

jay faerber: NANNY ROSE <33333 i love love love rose in titans 99 <3 this version of rose is DRASTICALLY different than any other rose, which is the reason hes in the bottom half, but i like it in the sense that its nice to know that she was just hanging out in between the two worst things to ever happen to her (her mom dying & slade drugging her). rose with roy and lian lives rent free in my head every single day of my life i love it so much, also that issue with rose & toni was so fun. titans 99 rose you will always be famous

adam beechen: he is going to hell for what he did to cass but for rose? he was fine. he helped with that one really good wilson family arc (tt03 #43-46), and wrote the only pre-52 rose & jason interaction (#47) so he gets points for that. and batgirl 2008 was pretty good for rose. but unfortunately he just didnt make enough of an impact on me to be ranked any higher

matthew rosenberg: unfortunately im mentally ill so i have a detailed explanation of what i think of rosenberg's rose but the short version is: i like him, he writes a good rose. its fun, shes well-written for the most part, but there are some :/ parts about it to me. i think if he continues writing her he'd be ranked higher but for now hes sitting pretty near the bottom of the list

devin grayson: i used to really like devin grayson's rose but. i have since changed my mind. it doesnt feel like rose. this is NOT the rose that stabbed her eye out because she thought slade was disappointed in her! shes too Quirky Girl here even though this is theoretically during the period where shes being drugged (honestly. i dont think grayson actually knew about the super soldier serum. and if she did it does not show) and we've seen rose in this era in tt03 and bg00, and this arc does not read as the same character at all. it was a good arc for her, and she had a lot of good moments here! but the characterization overall wasnt great

joshua williamson: i won't go on a whole tangent about the way williamson writes but. he has no sense of character voice, his characters all feel like blank slates to get the plot across, there are no character decisions being made besides what's needed for the plot. theres not a lot that i can put my finger on and say that its bad, but there are so few choices being made that its hard to say anything about his rose. to put a completely different character in rose's place in robin 2021, all you'd have to do is switch a few words around. williamson uses a vague idea of who a character is to guide what he wants them to do, and all his characters come out shallow. his rose wasnt BAD but it wasnt good at all

scott lobdell: every day i blow on a dandelion and wish for scott lobdell to kill himself

#re: williamson. for some reason the 'he cant write character voice' rule does not apply to ollie #like everyone else in ga23 is very eh. but hes nailed ollie's voice #the plot sucks. the pacing sucks. the decisions usually suck. but he can write ollie in a way that he cant write anyone else #trying so hard not to go on an entire rant about how williamson writes characters. i swear im trying to stay on topic #rose wilson

[aannonn]

A lil' fic I wrote on both my wattpad and ao3 account.. But wanted to post it here too, soooOooo let's go11!!

(aaand because i wanted to play around with Tumblr's colorful text once again xD)

Fandom: Animator vs. Animation (Short Films - Becker)

Relationships: Can be considered as both platonic and romantic

Characters: Color Gang & Alan Becker & DJ (mentioned)

Additional Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hugs, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sleepy Cuddles, Cuddle Piles, Platonic Cuddling, Team as Family, Family Fluff, The Color Gang Needs a Hug (Animator vs. Animation), No Dialogue

Free Hugs!

   Finishing the final touch with a small click, Orange stood back, silently admiring his work.

   What our dear friend Orange just did, my friends, is steal Minecraft's wooden sign and drag it into Alan's Adobe Flash, grabbing a pen and quickly scribbling some letters onto the previously clean wood.

   Earlier that day, Orange woke up, as usual, at noon, and quickly left his house, feeling strangely refreshed today.

   This strange renewal was quickly erased when he saw the state of his friends, however.

   His friends, his friends who are so stupid but also so loving that they are always there for him. His friends who are also his family, his main reason for living, the main reason why his days always seem to brighten considerably even more whenever they are close by. His small but wonderful family - along with Alan, their creator, of course.

   His friends- No. His little family has always been so energetic and enthusiastic, full of plans and just so.. lively. Looking so much like a big strong flame and tough and just so beautiful.

He wouldn't know what he would do if that flame faded.

   His light at the end of the tunnel, his sun on rainy days, the platonic, no homo loves of his life... It seemed to have suddenly faded.

   It was so all of sudden, so... disconcerting. Seeing his friends sitting on the couch looking like they're dying of some sorts - when, in fact, they're not - is just... disconcerting, to say the least.

   Dark circles in their eyes - or, well, whatever was in place of their eyes, - slow movements, becoming more easily distracted and looking like, with every minute that passes, they get even more tired than he is when he wakes up way too early to his liking. And that says a lot.

   Orange doesn't know why - none of them gave an exact explanation of the reason The only thing they told him was that it was a tiring day and nothing more than that.

ﾠ Which, was absurd. In Orange's personal opinion, at least. His friends were never tired - at least, not tired like him.

   While he feels sleepy and tired and with each passing day he feels even more disconnected from reality, his friends can spend a whole day awake and, even so, still not be tired.

   Quite the contrary, there is a strong possibility that they will feel even more energetic in the morning, much to Orange's jealousy exasperation.

   So seeing his friends in such a depressing state broke his heart — literally? Metaphorically? Coded heart? Whatever kind of heart StickFigures like him have.

   So, Orange made it his personal goal to, at least, try to cheer up his friends.

   They always managed to brighten up his days, even unintentionally, so it's time for him to return the favor.

   Orange scribbled a few more minecraft drawing decorations into the empty corners of the wood, making sure they were some of his friends' favorites, before mentally patting himself on the back for his hard work.

   He sighed, nervous but hopeful. If that doesn't work... Well, he'll think of something eventually.

   The important thing is that his friends - his family, are happy and comfortable, and nothing else matters to him beyond that.

   Walking slowly across the desktop towards the couch where his friends were still in the same state as before, lying down and sprawled out lazily.

   Which wouldn't be so unusual, almost making Orange think that his friends were happy again, if it weren't for the fact that they still had a, somewhat, depressing air around them.

   Sighing deeply, he walked in front of them, nervous, terribly embarrassed but most of all; Hopeful.

   He's usually not the one who initiates them, but...

   Red simply stares at him lazily, nodding his head in greeting. Blue raises his head a little to look at him, while Yellow and Green remain in the positions they were in, the only indication that they were listening is the small movement of their heads, although they still haven't given him a single look, very busy having a staring contest with the ceiling.

   Orange have a feeling that the ceiling is winning...

   Orange sighed again, his grip on the wooden handle tightening; Although it couldn't be seen, he could still feel himself blushing even without facial expressions.

   He slowly lifted the sign so the text could be read, shaking. - Not out of fear or nervousness, more like out of pure embarrasment because ohgodhesreallydoingitsomeonekillhimrightnowplease

   Orange simply stares at the ground, not making eye contact with any of them. - He can practically feel everyone's eyes on him, which leaves him a little overwhelmed, presumably reading the text over and over again to see if they're not reading it wrong.

   When a few moments pass without either of them making any kind of movement or noise or literally anything else, Orange slowly drops the sign, already feeling the regret and embarrasment growing even more, making him question why he even came up with this idea-

   He quickly broke out of his thoughts when he heard a small movement come from in front of him, making him tear his eyes away from the ground to look up, still slightly embarrassed about what he just did.

   ...Only to find a very excited Red doing little jumps of excitement, an equally excited Green although looking like as much as a smug, a shocked Yellow though looking grateful, and lastly Blue who, although he had no facial expression, seemed to be smiling softly at him, his head shaking in an fondly manner.

   Before Orange could literally do anything, Green slowly freed himself from the tangle of arms and legs on the couch, walking towards Orange in a certain way that would generate suspense, leaving the youngest of the five(5) extremely nervous and even more embarrassed.

   Green simply stood in front of him, staring at him for a long, unnecessary moment before finally leaning in to give Orange a hug, his gentle yet firm grip holding him gently and not looking like he wanted to let go.

   Orange stood stiffly for a few seconds, slightly surprised, before slowly trying to hug his friend back before he noticed Red jumping up from the couch - knocking Yellow and Blue over in the process, though none of them seemed to mind, not when the youngest of the four(4) jumped on the other two, giving them a tight hug that didn't hint like he would let go anytime soon.

   Red's sudden enthusiastic embrace threw him a little off balance, causing him to stumble backwards and, just like that, fall to the ground along with the other two StickFigures, the loud thud and Red's laughter echoing across the desktop as they all turned into one messy pile of hugs on the floor.

   He could distantly hear Yellow laughing too, before both he and Blue stood up to join the colorful pile, Yellow snuggling a little closer while Blue squeezed everyone in a soft, comforting grip, his signature bear hug.

   Well, great. Now Orange can't feel his legs with all of them on top of him!

   Not that he cares, though. Orange felt himself laughing, before, with some effort, he managed to free his arms from the deadly grip and hug his family with the same strength and softness, trying to convey the same comfort and happiness that everyone was providing each other.

   They were all happy and comfortable. Orange's mission was successful. And that was all that mattered.

   At some point, they all fell asleep in the comfy pile, small soft snores coming from it.

   In that same place at some point, Alan eventually sat down back at his seat in front of the computer, only to find his little StickFigures friends all in a little tangle of hugs.

   Alan felt himself get a little worried when he saw that Orange seemed to be being slightly crushed by the others on top of him, although the latter didn't really seem to mind, not when he seemed to happily return the hug and snuggle even closer, their chests? Their bellies? rising and falling so smoothly and slowly that it made the animator quickly realize that they were all asleep.

   Alan smiled softly at the adorable sight, before quickly opening Adobe Flash - which, for some reason, was already open - and drawing a small blanket and some pillows, bringing them to the still sleeping color gang, carefully so as not to wake them up, lifting up their little heads to place the pillows beneath them, covering them with the blanket immediately afterwards.

   He could vaguely see the colorful gang huddling even closer, their presumably snores becoming softer by the second.

   Thinking for a second, he slowly moved the cursor down and, very pretty much carefully, stroked the StickFigures' heads, sighing in relief when he saw that they didn't wake up and, instead, simply leaned into his touch.

   The animator smiled again, before using his other computer so he could work on his programs without having to wake the little ones.

   Before that, however, he belatedly noticed the wooden sign from Minecraft thrown carelessly to the side, the text "FREE HUGS" written in large letters with small animal decorations, - most notably were the drawings of the pigs - redstone, noteblocks and.. NetherWarts? Drawn one in each corner.

   Huh. How convenient.

   Alan shook his head. Anyways, he has a video to finish with DJ. And with absolute certainty he will tell DJ about all of this.

   Ahh.. DJ will love hearing about this.

AAand that's that! xD

also! some inspirations for this oneshot...

Inspired yea, but not entirely. xD

Pretty much the main inspo for this oneshot, although it is, in no way, meant to be related.

Welp! I think that's it..? xD

Cya ~ !

MIDNIGHT AGAINN AAAAAAAAAAAA

lil' edit; I edited it a lil'! I noticed I got some things wrong and forgor others, so I fixed it. ;') It's nothing too big, don't worry! Just some grammatical errors and that I forgor to put the second link to the main inspo for this oneshot.. welp-

#animation vs minecraft #animation vs animator #ava #avm #alan becker #fanfic #color gang #ava color gang #fic #my fic #have a good day! #have a good afternoon! #have a good night! #♪(´▽｀) #( *^-^)ρ(^0^* ) #*:･ﾟ

[digitaldreams0801]

The Inherent Plurality of Castti Florenz (Analysis)

When Octopath Traveler II first came out, I jumped right into it as soon as possible. I'm a huge fan of the first game (as my AO3 will tell you quickly), and I couldn't wait to see what the sequel had to offer. As I got deeper into the game, I learned a few things about the cast. My first major revelation about Castti? Castti Florenz might just be one of the most plural coded characters I've seen in my life. I even wrote two one shots about it on Archive of Our Own. A lot of people found the stories eye opening, and multiple people told me that it completely changed the way they view Castti as a character. So let's talk about it. Let's break down Castti as the most plural character to hit gaming consoles in a long time.

(Warning for full game spoilers!)

Introduction

Plurality Explanation

Let's start off with a brief crash course about plurality. Just what is plurality? In short, it's the state of being more than one. Through some set of circumstances or another, multiple people have come to live in the same body. This is commonly, albeit incorrectly, known as "multiple personality disorder." This term has been outdated for roughly the last thirty years. Instead, it is known as "dissociative identity disorder" in the modern age, and it is abbreviated as DID. Those with DID are stated to have alters, but I will be using the term headmate throughout this essay because it is our preferred term as a system. Systems are the collective of all headmates found in a given body. Plurality is a community term used for the experience of being more than one, and it is the preferred term for us, so it will be used as opposed to discussing dissociative disorders going forward.

Plurality is often (not always, but often) associated with trauma. In many cases, systems act as a defense mechanism prompted by extreme trauma. Memories are hidden from those who need to not know the depth of what they have been through. Members of a system work together to look after one another and keep their collective safe. I believe this to be the truth behind Castti and Malaya's dynamic in the game, and this essay will explain the reasons that have led me to so strongly advocate for a plural interpretation of Castti's character.

Plurality in Castti

In order to fully understand how plural coded Castti is, I feel like we should start from the beginning. Castti is first introduced to the audience as an apothecary who lost her memories. We do not know the circumstances behind this, and finding out is the draw behind her story. Very quickly, we are introduced to Malaya, someone who seems to know Castti but is hiding this from her. No one else speaks to Malaya but Castti, and their relationship is complicated from the start. Malaya knows Castti, but Castti does not remember her, and Malaya's behavior is odd and unconventional despite their notable history.

I want to put a pin in this for now and come back to it later. The details behind this theory only make sense when placed alongside other evidence, and this game has a lot more of it than you would think. To be more specific, there's proof in the travel banters, and it's incredibly important to understanding Malaya's role in Castti's present life.

Travel Banter Evidence

There are three pieces of travel banter that need to be addressed here. The first is "Talking to Yourself," the Castti and Osvald banter in Castti's chapter two in Sai. Second, we have "A Good Apothecary," a conversation found in Winterbloom between Castti and Temenos. Last but not least is the postgame "Another Self" with dialogue from Castti, Temenos, and Hikari. All three of these have plural coded undertones that add more backing to this theory, so let's go through them in order and break down what makes them so crucial.

"Talking to Yourself": Castti and Osvald, Castti Chapter Two: Sai Route

Osvald: Master Edmund is…talkative. Castti: Yes. Your polar opposite, Osvald. Osvald: Not necessarily. I’m quite loquacious during internal debates. Castti: What do you mean? Osvald: I maintain multiple mental versions of myself, each with a different perspective, and we’re constantly debating. Castti: Hehe. So you talk to yourself? That’s kind of funny, in an odd way. Osvald: …… Osvald: I thought you were a kindred soul, Castti. Osvald: Someone told me that they overheard you talking to yourself. Osvald: They said it was like you were conversing with someone who wasn’t there. Castti: Really? I don’t remember ever doing something like that.

The game posits this travel banter as foreshadowing of Malaya not being real in the way Castti believes her to be, but there is a lot more to it than that. This conversation was what set off a few alarm bells in my head that Castti could have been plural, and it caught me by surprise when I first reached it. I'm part of a plural system myself, and this conversation is very relatable to the plural experience.

Osvald speaks to himself when he's trying to further his research. He's aware of this and has been for a long time. Castti brushes it off at first, but Osvald points out that she has the same habit. The way this conversation phrases it, the game seems to imply that someone has told Osvald that Castti talks to herself recently. "Someone told [him]" that Castti had been talking to herself. I somehow doubt someone random from Canalbrine would have done that, especially since there's no guarantee that Osvald is even in the party at all when Castti first joins. Osvald is hardly talkative in the first place, and for someone to go out of their way to tell him Castti had been talking to herself, it must have been more recent than Canalbrine. In other words, it was more recent than Castti's run-in with Malaya.

Beyond that, Castti isn't even aware that she's doing it. This is something very common within plural people. The idea of what's "normal" is always based on our internalized perceptions of the world and what we have been taught. To some, they believe hearing voices in your head is normal because they've always lived with it. That was certainly the case for us before we realized we were plural. Your perception of what is "normal" is skewed because of what you have lived with. It's nothing out of the ordinary if you've always lived this way. Castti is shocked to be called out by this because she's so accustomed to it without even realizing that she's doing it. How was she supposed to know it's not normal? She doesn't live in anyone's head but her own, and to her, this is normal.

Her final line is another piece of evidence adding to this theory. She doesn't remember doing that. In Castti's story, memories are incredibly important. They're the driving force behind her entire narrative. Her not remembering something that took place even after she lost her memory is bizarre. She's so accustomed to talking to herself that she doesn't even notice... And she doesn't remember doing it either.

Systems are often built in a way that is meant to be hidden. Many systems form as defense mechanisms from trauma, and as such, they know how to hide themselves from the parties involved until the time is right. Revealing too much too soon poses a risk to the system, and amnesia is common in plural communities. Memories can be deliberately tampered with by members of the system who act as protectors, and that can lead to memories being taken from people who are not meant to remember something at a given moment. For example, memories can be hidden for the sake of keeping the system masked for as long as possible.

Between calling out Castti's habit of talking to herself, saying that it has happened recently, and noting that she still has memory issues after turning up in Canalbrine, this travel banter is full of evidence to point to Castti being plural. It immediately struck me as being plural when I first saw it, and that alone was enough to get me thinking about Castti in a new light... And somehow, that's only the first of three travel banters that point to Castti being plural.

"A Good Apothecary": Castti and Temenos, Castti Chapter Two: Winterbloom Route

Temenos: Castti, have you remembered anything new lately? Castti: Nothing of any importance, sadly. Castti: The truth is…I’m somewhat frightened. Temenos: Of…what? Castti: This amnesia… Castti: I hear it can be a self-defense mechanism. Something the mind does to forget horrors or trauma. Castti: Perhaps I will be happier if I never uncover the secrets of my past. Temenos: Be at ease, Castti. Temenos: You are a good person and a fine apothecary. Your actions now prove this without a shadow of doubt. Temenos: There’s no way your past is filled with darkness and despair. Castti: Th-thank you, Temenos… You’re surprisingly nice today. Temenos: Today? I’m always nice.

This travel banter has one primary line that should be noted for this analysis, and that is the following statement from Castti:

"I hear it can be a self-defense mechanism. Something the mind does to forget horrors or trauma."

Many systems form as a response to trauma. In this case, some members of the system keep memories separated from those who need to function without the chains of their trauma holding them down. If someone needs to function on a regular basis, then their trauma is hidden from them so they can live without crumbling due to flashbacks and painful memories. Castti is right; amnesia can be a self-defense mechanism in response to trauma, and it is very commonly seen in systems. In fact, that is exactly what Malaya appears to be in this situation: a protector meant to keep Castti safe from the horrors of her past. The idea of trauma causing amnesia so immediately is something you would see in a system, and in this case, it points to Castti being plural once again.

"Another Self": Castti, Hikari, and Temenos, Postgame Tavern Banter

Hikari: There is something I would like to ask you, my friends… Hikari: Do you ever feel…like you aren’t yourself? Temenos: Hmm… I’m not sure I understand. Temenos: Do you mean to ask if the entity currently perceiving the world around you…isn’t you? Hikari: By that logic, there would be another inside of me other than myself. Hikari: But that other isn’t someone else. Hikari: However, it isn’t me, either… Or at least, that’s how it feels. Castti: I’ve had a similar experience. Castti: I felt the me of my memories—the ones I had lost—was a different person. Hikari: …… Temenos: I think I’m starting to understand what you mean. Temenos: I feel like there’s more than one of me when I must differentiate my feelings as a person from those as a cleric. Hikari: I see… So I’m not the only one who struggles with this. Castti: Hardly. Few people possess only one facet. Castti: I think you have no cause for concern. Castti: We must accept the other sides of ourselves and learn to coexist with them. Castti: In the end, it’s not who we are, but how we choose to live our lives that is most important. Hikari: …… Hikari: Perhaps the “self” is something…indefinite. Hikari: In which case…we should strive to become the person we want to be. Castti: Hehe. I’m sure you can do it, Hikari. Hikari: Thank you, Castti. Hikari: My apologies for bringing such a complicated topic to the table. Please pay it no mind. Temenos: …Hm? What were we talking about again? Temenos: I seem to have forgotten… I believe I’ve had too much to drink… Hikari: …Thank you, my friends.

This is the longest travel banter that needs to be addressed here, and it has a lot to unpack. First and foremost, Castti pretty much outright states here that she has dissociation and depersonalization issues. She doesn't feel like the person of her memories and her present self are the same person. That's already a lot to unpack on its own, and considering the fact that dissociation is one of the most common symptoms of plurality, it feels like even more proof of Castti being plural. She doesn't feel like one uniform person and struggles enough with not feeling like herself for it to be brought up with Hikari of all people who also struggles with depersonalization throughout the story.

But wait, there's more! Castti says that "few people possess only one facet." This is coming on the heels of her saying that she struggles with seeing herself as a single unified person. Spoiler alert, Castti: singlets don't feel like completely different people even if they do have different facets. Some singlets have stated that the person they are at work feels completely different than the person they are at home... But that is not the same thing as plurality, and having a work mode doesn't come with dissociation and feeling like multiple people to the point of bringing it up with other people. That's awfully plural of you, Castti.

And somehow, there's still more. Castti expresses the importance of accepting the other sides of herself and learning to work with them. This is a lot like what it's like to reach out to your headmates when you're plural. Like it or no, you're stuck there in the same body together, and you have to learn how to work together and coexist to make your common life work. She says that it doesn't matter "who we are" in comparison to how we choose to live our lives... Another line that reads of depersonalization when said right after everything else she says in this tavern banter.

To wrap things up, this travel banter says that Castti struggles with depersonalization and dissociation, doesn't possess a single facet, and wants to work together with the other sides of herself. Wow. I don't know what I expected, but considering the fact that this travel banter is called "Another Self," I shouldn't be surprised. This entire travel banter makes Castti feel incredibly plural, especially when placed right next to Hikari who has the Shadow Hikari situation going on. I have a few issues with how the Shadow is portrayed in the game, but the point of the travel banter is that Castti reads as very plural here. When you combine that with her talking to herself regularly, recognizing the role of trauma in some amnesia, and stating she still has a few memory gaps now... You can see this theory start to find its footing in full.

Malaya, the Protector

Under my interpretation of Castti as being part of a plural system, Malaya is her headmate and a protector in their system. Malaya is trying to lead Castti to the truth, but she can only reveal information that Castti is already aware of. This is stated at the end of the reveal about the Healeaks incident in Castti's chapter three. The game seems to imply that Malaya is either a ghost or a figment of Castti's imagination, but I have issues with both of these ideas. The ghost proposal is implied through lines about how Malaya is "no longer in this world" and the final farewell to Eir's Apothecaries at the end of chapter four. However, why would a ghost version of Malaya have to conform to the rules of only telling Castti what she already knows? How would this happen in the first place? It feels rather bizarre in a game that doesn't treat contact with ghosts as being possible. Even when Temenos guides Crick's spirit in his chapter three in Stormhail, it doesn't feel literal. Instead, the bright blue of Crick's ghost feels symbolic, implying that the idea of life and death is largely intact and agreeable in universe compared to what we know in real life.

The figment of Castti's imagination makes a bit more sense, but I still feel the plural explanation fits far better. Malaya feels far too complex to simply be something Castti made up, and how would she have known enough to do that without her memories? In my mind, it goes like this: Castti was thoroughly traumatized by the events in Healeaks and couldn't remember immediately without completely shattering. The Malaya we see throughout the game is a headmate of Castti's who was created in the aftermath of the tragedy. The Malaya we see in present times acts far too complex for me to believe she's simply something Castti made up on the spot. Instead, I believe Malaya has her own autonomy and motives that pushed her to behave the way she did throughout the story. Members of systems have their own personalities and can make choices for themselves too. This feels much more in line with what we see of the present day Malaya in the game, and I believe this is because she is Castti's headmate.

In systems, there is a role known as protector. These are headmates who keep the system safe in the face of danger and trauma. Protectors are sometimes tasked with carrying painful memories so those who need to function on a daily basis are able to press on without risking being triggered into a flashback. I believe Malaya is a protector within Castti's system, and more specifically, she is an introject created by the Healeaks incident.

The Theory in Action: A Timeline

When the massacre of Healeaks took place, Castti was left massively traumatized. She was unable to save even a single life of the townspeople, instead watching as all of them died from symptoms she could not understand or resolve. There's an NPC in the ruins of Healeaks who says that he buried all of the bodies in the town and remarks on the horrors of the corpses in his Inquire text. The scene was beyond grotesque, and yet, it only got worse from there.

Castti saw every one of her allies fall after she went up to investigate Mount Liphia. Trousseau was waiting for her there and revealed his horrifying actions. He had betrayed Castti and the rest of Eir's Apothecaries and was joyous at the pain he was causing. This would have been traumatizing enough, but then it got worse. Andy and Randy sacrificed themselves to stop the flames of the Shadow's smoke, and Castti began to succumb to the poison as well. Malaya took her back down the mountain, and they found Elma dead and Jeyah losing strength fast. Malaya took Castti away from Healeaks and out to the New Delsta Anchorage where she dropped her off and sent her out to the sea. Malaya died soon afterwards, succumbing to the poison, and Castti was left to drift out of the range of the rain unconscious.

All of this was beyond traumatizing for obvious reasons. The mass death, the betrayal of someone she loved, losing her found family... It all happened within just a few hours. Castti's body was left struggling after this as well because of the poison Trousseau used. It was too much for her to bear both mentally and physically.

And that's where the Malaya of modern day comes in. She was not a ghost nor was she a figment of Castti's imagination. Instead, she was a headmate who appeared as a result of the Healeaks massacre. Malaya knew one thing above all else: Castti could not remember what just happened. Imagine what would have happened if Castti had awoken with her memories; she would have completely broken down, and no one could have blamed her. The events of Healeaks would have shattered her, and Malaya couldn't have that happen. She was created from the trauma of Healeaks, and she kept the truth secret from Castti while drip feeding her memories of the past as she grew ready for them.

In Canalbrine, Castti treated the people after their water was poisoned. Sesque remarked on how Malaya was the only apothecary around even though to Castti, Malaya was right there. Sesque didn't respond when Malaya tried to calm him down, and throughout the rest of the chapter, no one else said a word to Malaya. Even after Malaya helped Castti to remember the past, no one responded to her leaving behind a clearly distraught Castti in the heart of the town. Malaya flashed in and out of existence, seemingly as evidence of her being a ghost, but again, this doesn't make much sense with the rules established by the universe. If Malaya was a ghost, then why would she not try to tell Castti things only she knew and Castti wouldn't have? If Malaya was a figment of Castti's imagination, then how did she exist at all without Castti having any solid memories to pull from?

I think the explanation as to why Malaya didn't appear more consistently can be cleared up by the idea of Malaya having her own motives and autonomy. She was afraid of the truth and didn't know how she was supposed to reveal it to Castti. Of course she was terrified. She held the memories of a massacred Healeaks and knew she would have to reveal it to Castti one day if they were to stop Trousseau from killing the people of Timberain. Malaya was terrified of having to tell the truth. She deliberately kept from speaking to Castti openly for as long as she could because she was afraid. Malaya may have been there to lead Castti to the truth, but she had the room to be afraid on account of being a headmate with her own emotions and insecurities.

Castti kept up her habit of talking to people who weren't there even without Malaya there though. Perhaps she subconsciously knew there was someone for her to talk to, and that was why she kept doing it. Osvald commented on it in "Talking to Yourself", and Castti said she didn't remember because Malaya was keeping it a secret from her. Throughout all of this, Castti struggled with depersonalization and dissociation as is stated in "Another Self" even if that banter is much later in the game. Castti entertained the idea of trauma causing her amnesia in "A Good Apothecary" with Temenos in Winterbloom, not realizing just how accurate that was.

Castti's conversation with Malaya after her chapter twos is definitely a scene she is meant to have alone. Even if the other travelers are there, everything about it reads that she must be alone. The others would have noticed her talking to herself if they were there, and this is the same reason why there is no travel banter during the recollection sequences in Healeaks. Castti asks Malaya for answers, but Malaya remains stingy with the truth on account of her fear. She asks Castti to meet her in Healeaks.

At the end of Castti's chapter three, the truth comes out. Malaya is "no longer in this world" as Castti says, and Malaya drops her crucial line about how she can only reveal to Castti that which she already knew. The memories were always there; they had simply been repressed and hidden by the trauma of Healeaks. Malaya existed to Castti even before she got her memories back though, something that I don't think would have been possible for a simple figment of Castti's imagination. Malaya was afraid of the truth and hid it for as long as she could, and when the truth came out, she backed away.

Systems are meant to keep themselves hidden from the people who take care of most daily tasks. On many occasions, members of systems even speak to their headmates without realizing that's what they're doing, and then they go right back to not being aware because they don't recognize that is what is happening. Some have described it as talking to their inner child or guardian angel without realizing those were headmates. Castti spoke to Malaya here, but that did not necessarily mean she knew the truth. In fact, she still didn't know, and Malaya took a step away until their confrontation on the roof with Trousseau.

Malaya comes back to help Castti find the cure to the poison rain even after she seemingly faded away back at the harbor near New Delsta. This fading away didn't seem to mean much to Malaya, and she came right back. I believe that Castti imagined Malaya fading away as a matter of symbolism rather than actually witnessing it, especially since Malaya returned in Timberain. They came up with the cure together, and in the dream that followed, Castti put Eir's Apothecaries to sleep. Some see this as proof of the ghost theory, but in my mind, this could simply be symbolic or metaphorical as dreams often are. Later, Castti told Ori that Eir's Apothecaries had saved Timberain... And if you think about it, that could refer to her and the Malaya of modern day too. Even after all of this, Castti did not know the truth, and she brought up having depersonalization and dissociation issues in "Another Self" during the postgame. Malaya was her headmate, her protector, and the guardian of her memories all this time. She just didn't know it.

Housekeeping and Other Points

There are a few other points I wish to address before the conclusion, so here's a handful of final details about this theory I want to draw attention to. Castti recovering her memories happened quite often with Malaya guiding her through it. The few memories she found on her own without Malaya directly there were vague and lacking in key details, such as Trousseau's identity being hidden from Castti during her flashback in Sai. Malaya was the key to Castti understanding her past in full, and she needed to be there to guide Castti to the truth.

Beyond this, Castti is unable to remember anything unless Malaya specifically allows her to. Malaya vaguely instructed Castti to seek out the truth before she left in Canalbrine, and Castti later found her way to Sai and Winterbloom as Malaya wanted. Every memory Castti found was a direct consequence of Malaya allowing her to remember, something that is very reminiscent of system members keeping their memories hidden from others unless they explicitly permit the sharing of memories.

There is a common but incorrect belief that only childhood trauma causes plurality. This isn't exactly the case. There is a strong correlation with childhood trauma, but it is not necessarily causation. For an example of a system forming later in life, there is a case of a soldier going off to war and coming back plural due to the trauma when he never showed any symptoms and did not report plurality prior to his service. Castti's system could have definitely formed from the trauma of Healeaks.

Malaya meant a lot to Castti. During the flashback in Healeaks, Malaya says something about what snowdrops represent but cuts herself off. Another NPC in the flashback says they stand for loyalty. In the flower language seen outside the game, snowdrops represent rebirth and new beginnings, something fitting perfectly with the modern Malaya's relationship with Castti. It's not out of the question to believe Castti and Malaya were far closer than Castti was with any of the other apothecaries, and this is the reason Malaya specifically appeared to Castti.

Under the circumstances described in this theory, Malaya would classify as an introject. In systems, introjects are headmates that come from outside sources, including important people in the system's life. The Malaya we know was inspired by and based on the Malaya of Castti's memory. She is an introject who appeared to protect Castti and guide her back to her memories.

Conclusion

Throughout Octopath Traveler II, Castti is shown to exhibit many of the symptoms found in plural systems, and she reports on many of them herself. She struggles with feeling like one person, expresses a desire to reach out to the other sides of herself, talks to herself enough for it to be noticed by outsiders, grapples with amnesia even beyond the Healeaks tragedy, and faces dissociation issues on a regular basis. All of this is incredibly relatable to the plural experience and causes Castti to read as plural with Malaya acting as her headmate. The Malaya we know and the Malaya of the past are not the same; the former is Castti's protector who guides her to the truth of her memories following the tragedy of Healeaks. There is ample evidence throughout the game to point to this between travel banters, the rules of the universe, and the events of Castti's story.

Castti is a very important character to me personally because of her plural coding. I doubt it was intentional on the part of the writing team behind this fantastic game, but it hits very close to home for being accurate, empowering plural representation that doesn't position the system as the villain. Granted, this exists in the same game as "Shadow Hikari," a character that has been very prone to evil alter stereotypes within the fandom. Still, Castti is a representation of plurality that resonates so deeply because of her accuracy in portraying plural life, especially the plurality found in those who have not yet discovered their systems. Castti is the most plural character I've seen in any media in a long time, and she's the plural mascot of 2023 for me.

If you enjoyed this essay and analysis, I highly suggest you check out the one shots I linked at the top of this story. They explore my interpretations of Castti's plurality in a lot more detail through written prose rather than essay format. If you want to put a plural interpretation of Castti in your fan work, feel free to do so! In fact, tag us in it so we can check it out. Thank you for reading this far, and have a lovely night. To any systems seeing this: rock on. Plural gang forever.

#plurality #pluralgang #octopath traveler ii #octopath traveler 2 #castti florenz #malaya octopath #castti x malaya #octopath castti

[redreart]

Everything we know about Staci Pratt

Some time ago, I wrote all the stuff you can possibly know about Staci Pratt (everything that was deleted and hard to notice from the first play). But it was in another language so I decided to translate it lol.

Also, I'm really inspired by @lulu2992 posts, because I'm still obsessed with fc5 lore as well

So, let's begin. I'm going to use some materials from other people on Tumblr and I'm going to leave links to their original posts and mention them in the credits later on.

Everything we CAN find in the game

At the very beginning of the game, while still in the helicopter, Pratt jokes about our Dep and offers Hudson to drink something from a flask, maybe an alcoholic beverage. (maybe the flask is to blame for the helicopter crash, lol). And note that Pratt is the main pilot of the helicopter (because he sits on the right).

Screenshot by @llazyneiph

Based on everything, we can conclude that Stacy is not affected by depression and probably is not a part of Eden's Gate at this point in the game. Although from another angle we can see that the flask he holds in his hands has an Eden's Gate cross on the other side, I assume Ubi were just too lazy to create another texture just for that scene.

Screenshot by @llazyneiph

While leaving the helicopter to go follow the sheriff Pratt may say something if you stay there for too long.

Staci Pratt: Suck it up, rookie! Get your head out of your ass and get up to the church. The fuck you doing? Follow the sheriff. Jesus...

When we meet Stacy after the failed attempt to put Joe in jail, he is already serving Jacob it is not clear why the box does not work on him, although then in one cutscene Only You from the loudspeaker has an effect on him. The game does not provide an answer to this question, although hypothetically this can be associated with deleted content, which will be discussed a little bit later.

Please this this amazing post by @lulu2992 because it summarizes what I want to say here

at.tumblr.com/lulu2992/i-feel-there-is-something-about-deputy-staci/pxihfpi1xgp4

And just a quick thing about Jacob.

In oasistrings (you can find it here text.farcry.info) Jacob call's Pratt "peaches" just once and I found no explanation except my own assumptions.

But the most obvious reason is that Jacob uses this to break Pratt. I mean he's already in a bad state but Jacob is just pushing it further. But also It's interesting that Staci likes Peaches the cougar. She's the only animal companion that he's positive about. This part is kind of cut from the game though because Pratt usually stays in the bunker. But if you'll have him as a companion with the help of the Resistance Mod he'll def comment on the animal you're with.

Another interesting thing was noticed by @hopecountyradio. Idk myself, but it is really worth mentioning. In the very first cutscene with Jacob, someone is carrying our Dep. @hopecountyradio thinks that it is Pratt who does it.

I've made a little collage so you guys can compare the shoes.

Just a bunch of random short facts that ARE in the game

Staci is 26 years old

He wears a wristband

He used to be or is a catholic because he knows the "Ave, Maria" prayer (you can listen to him praying here, Ave, Maria is the second one) which is most common amongst Catholics in the US (thanks @noire610 for telling me this)

Content that was deleted from the game

Let's start with the analysis of audio. Interestingly, not all of this ended up in the oasis strings.

Let's start with this interesting thing provided by @voices-of-hope-county. There are several dialogues between the peggies, Pratt and peggies, and even Jacob and peggies. All of them are united by the fact that they took place (should have happened) in the Veterans Center. Only one of them is available in oasis strings. I could not find the rest in the text file. Let's start.

Audio 1

Dialogue 1 | Audio 1:

Female peggie: Can you fucking believe that guy? Male peggie: Who? FP: The Deputy… Pratt. He was wandering around behind the cages. MP: The fuck was he doing there? FP: Who the hell knows? Jacob's probably got him off doing some shit. MP: Hahahah… He's lucky to put two words together after what Jacob did to him. FP: Seriously… Sometimes I think it's a mistake to put so much trust in this converts. You should come willing to the light, or be struck down. MP: Amen to that, sister.

Dialogue 2 | Audio 1 (can be found in oasisstrings):

Dialogue 3 | Audio 1

Staci Pratt: Hey… I need to get in. Male Peggie: Seriously? Didn't I just let you out? SP: There's a new prisoner… I gotta go get him. For Jacob. MP: Fine… Get going. Just leave me the fuck alone.

Dialogue 4 | Audio 1 (It sounds like Pratt knows the person he's talking to well)

Male Peggie: Don't this fucking dogs ever shut up? Staci Pratt: They're called Judges. MP: They are still fucking dogs. SP: Have you ever seen them kill? Those are more than just dogs, my friend. MP: Well… They still stank like dogs. Good Lord… Huh… Anyone cleans those cages? SP: Are you volunteering? MP: Fuck no! Haha… Are you kidding? SP: Then stop complaining.

Dialogue 5 | Audio 1 (It sounds like Pratt knows the person he's talking to well)

Staci Pratt: How does it look? Male Peggie: Not good. SP: What does that mean? Do we need a new one? MP: Not sure… We might be able to get away with just replacing the belt. SP: Right… And how long will that last? MP: Well… It might buy us a couple weeks. SP: Or… It may just blow up tomorrow. And then where will we be? MP: Up shits creek without a paddle. SP: So what do we tell Jacob? MP: We'll replace the whole fucking thing. It's the only way to be sure.

They're probably repairing a car because they're discussing timing belt.

Although the last dialogue in the audio does not involve Pratt, it does include Jacob and an explanation of how the converts are treated.

Dialogue 6 | Audio 1

Jacob Seed: Anything to report? Male Peggie: Sir. Truck just pulled up n' dropped of a bunck of new prisoners. JS: Recruits. MP: What? JS: We call them recruits. Soon they'll be a part of our army… Part of the Project. You need to respect that. MP: Ye… Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir. JS: I'm going down to see how the process is going. I'll be back soon.

As we can see there was plenty of stuff that should've happened in Jacob's region.

Audio 2

Staci Pratt: It's just gonna get harder… They want an offering. A sacrifice… I'm trying… I'm trying my best. You have to know that!.. I'm sorry.

Probably was talking to our Dep.

Audio 3

Starts after the prayers somewhere around here

Staci Pratt: The whole time I was locked in that room I just kept thinking about how I got here. You know why I became a cop? To get laid. That was it. It was a whim. And then... after awhile, I tried to convince myself that I did it for the greater good. To help people. But I can't. I know that now. Jacob taught me that... I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore... I don't even know who I am. I don't know what we're supposed to do now. Protect and serve? Out here? There's no law anymore, Rook. Look around! Someone should've been here by now. Nobody gives a shit about what's happening here. We're on our own. Survival of the fittest. Weak and the strong.

(I would love to meet these badge bunnies in Hope County ngl. Probably Adelaide eas one of them)

Also as @lulu2992 notices Pratt's name in game files is spelled Stacy.

Previous character designs

@hopecountyradio extracted a bunch of videos of Pratt's confession.

The first version is this one:

Also in this vid Jacob has greenish eyes

The second version is this one

Has an amazing Eden's Gate intro

And Staci looks like that:

A general conclusion can be drawn from all three versions, incl. the one that was included in the final version of the game, even though the water is hard to see there. Stacy was electrocuted here, so when we rescue him in the Armory that's another reason why he blows the control panel.

Thank ya'll for reading 🖤 I would love to chat about it and add info if you know something/can provide something I haven't mentioned

I used materials from @lulu2992 , @hopecountyradio , @voices-of-hope-county and text.farcry.info

#stacy pratt #staci pratt #deputy staci pratt #deputy pratt #fc5 lore #fc5 #far cry 5 #far cry 5 lore #fc5 fandom #far cry 5 fandom #deputy stacy pratt

[goodqueenaly]

I fell into a rabbit hole of your metas and it's great stuff! But while reading your bits over the Southern Bloc I couldnt help notice something. In Dance(ithink) Barbrey Dustin speaks to Theon about her distrusts for the maesters and insuates that Rickard's Southron ambitions were groomed by the maester of that time. I doubt that GRRM wrote that for no reason, and in the your work I don't see any mention of the Maesters 1/2

(tbh I really wouldn't be surprised if we don't get to see anything substantial on the Maester conspiracy because of time and pacing in two books thanks to GrRm great scheduling bbtp) but do you think the Maesters have any important part on the Southron Bloc plans? Because if so, what would have been their greater goal?

P.S. and another thing! Rickard Starks ambition level is unusual in most of the historical Starks throughout the Targaryen dynasty. Two sons and a daughter connected to land beyond the Neck? I know you mentioned why Rickard would benefit from these relationships, but why did he think of this in The first place? Why did he think it was better to go against the Targaryens when they hadn't bothered with the North much at that point?

P.S. pt2: I really think it was the Maesters that low-key were pushing, for something, and they really needed to cinch Rickard in. Except that Dragons and magic no longer seem to exist, so why continue to erode the Targaryens away(their anti Martell agenda checks out, at least) even if Aegon IV had done what he wanted to do it's not like the Maesters would suffer or benefit either? Sorry, I accidently put myself in the rabbit hole. It's dark here. Bye

The short answer is that I really don't believe in any maester conspiracy explanation for the (as yet theorized) southron ambitions power bloc. I think that there are (again, potential) explanations for why Rickard Stark (and, by extension, Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully) acted as they did which are not dependent on, or even really explained by, a united conspiracy of maesters puppeteering various paramount lords. I am not saying there has never been any greater schemes among maesters ever, only that I believe this specific group of marital and fostering alliances was the product of the aristocratic men involved rather than their maesters.

Number one, I think Barbrey Dustin's comments regarding maesters should be taken with a heavy grain of salt. I don't mean that Barbrey is stupid, far from it, but rather that Barbrey is a woman with very specific grievances and very specific sources of blame for those grievances. Because Barbrey believes that she loved Brandon and that Brandon loved her, she needs a way to explain the failure of her romantic desires that does not blame either herself or Rickard and Brandon Stark (since, after all, Barbrey's goal was to become a Stark herself). This is, after all, the same Barbrey who asserts that Brandon never wanted to marry Catelyn, despite the fact that Brandon fought a duel with (and nearly killed) the person who challenged him for Catelyn's hand and explicitly affirmed his commitment to Catelyn, to Catelyn, before he left for King's Landing. Accordingly, villainizing Rickard's old maester (who was both a foreigner - that is, not a northerner - and a bastard, with all the accompanying prejudice there) and Catelyn Tully (another foreigner to the North) allows Barbrey to create a narrative in which she, Brandon, and Rickard did no wrong and naturally (to her) untrustworthy people can serve as scapegoats instead. Barbrey is a smart and canny woman, but she is as much subject to bias and prejudice as any other character, and given those very apparent biases I am reluctant to simply accept what Barbrey says about maesters as true.

Now, could there be a secondary reason the author included this perspective from Barbrey? Just as the story Godric Borrell tells of the fisherman's daughter and the story Edric Dayne tells of Wylla the wet nurse are both (almost certainly) objectively wrong accounts which nevertheless support the true proposition that there is a greater mystery to be revealed about Jon Snow's mother, so perhaps Barbrey Dustin's antipathy toward maesters is wrongly justified but intended to catch readers' attention to a more general point. Perhaps the author wants to suggest here that there is something a bit underhanded happening with some maesters, just not politically - that is, that individual historical maesters probably helped finish off the Targaryen dragons, and that few modern maesters recognize the potency (and danger) of magic (an attitude which will be immediately, and fatally, undone when Euron shows up to take over Oldtown).

I think it is also important to contextualize Rickard in his time and place. Certainly, it was the case that few (although some) Starks had married outside the North, at least so far as we have the Stark family tree - which, by the way, was as much true for a family like the Lannisters (whose marriages from Damon Lannister through the present day were almost exclusively with other Westerlands Houses), and probably as much true for families like the Tullys and Arryns as well - but it was also very unusual, indeed virtually unique, for all the senior commanders of Westeros to meet in a single space to war against a foreign invading army, which is exactly what happened during the War of the Ninepenny Kings - a war in which RIckard almost certainly served as Warden of the North. This was the perfect opportunity for Rickard to meet his fellow Warden Jon Arryn, as well as senior Riverlands commanders Hoster and Brynden Tully - and if they may not have finalized their entire geopolitical strategy and ambition in that moment (which would have been impossible to do anyway, given that Robert Baratheon, the Stark boys, and the Tully girls did not then exist), they certainly had the chance to discuss their opinions on the current state of the kingdom and build the foundations of their allegiance and mutual regard for one another.

And indeed, it's specifically not the case that the Targaryens "hadn't really bothered with the North much at that point" - quite the opposite, I think Targaryen action and inaction toward the North may have been a major source of grievance that motivated Rickard's participation in this alliance bloc. Remember that when the North needed help during the reign of Aerys I - when Dagon Greyjoy decided to make the west coast of Westeros his playground for pillaging and reaving - the Iron Throne specifically, consciously did nothing. That purposeful inaction directly betrayed part of the feudal promise enshrined when the Targaryen kingdom was formed: in return for the homage and and military service promised by the Iron Throne’s vassals, the Iron Throne agreed to protect those vassal families when they could not protect themselves - when, in fact, the realm itself was threatened. If the Iron Throne had probably (through Maekar) eventually intervened to solve the Dagon problem, Rickard’s great-grandfather Beron and his sons had learned the hard way that the Iron Throne’s commitment to its protective obligations was at best dependent on the personality of the monarch on the throne (and/or the monarch’s chief advisor). That’s not a lesson that I think Rickard - who was ruling barely half a century later - would necessarily have forgotten, or not considered in his political decisions and ambitions. If the Iron Throne ignored its individual vassals' plight without compunction, perhaps the way to make the dynasty listen - to ensure the Dagon problem could not happen again, in other words - was to unite as a bloc with other great Houses, the better to force the dynasty's notice.

Nor might the Starks have appreciated the opposite end of the Targaryens’ exercise of royal power - that is, under Aegon V, whose stated goal as king was to curtail lordly power by "grant[ing] rights and protections to the commons that they had never known before". It is unclear as yet how the Starks felt about Aegon V's program of reforms, yet it is certainly the case that unidentified other lords deeply resented the king's actions, even going so far as to describe him as "a bloodyhanded tyrant intent on depriving us of our gods-given rights and liberties". Indeed, this had not been the first time the Targaryens had intervened in the North to remove traditional privileges of the Starks and their vassals, since under Jaehaerys I the crown had both forced Winterfell to donate lands of its vassals to the Night's Watch and removed the right to the first night (across the continent, to be sure, but even Barth specifically noted at the time that "some lords [would] surely grumble at this [i.e. the end to the first night], especially in the North"); moreover, at least the first of those royal decisions seems to have caused deep resentment among some of the Starks. It's possible, therefore, that Rickard (who may have come into his lordship toward the end of Aegon's reign) agreed that the crown could not simply (metaphorically speaking) stomp into the North and start making demands on those rights which Aegon I had long ago promised to protect.

All of this, I think, may have culminated in an expression of frustration when the various Westerosi commanders met during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. If the Iron Throne had failed to uphold its end of the feudal bargain, in the eyes of these lords, it was now nevertheless demanding that its vassals still provide theirs - fighting for the crown at the summons of the king, to keep the king on the Iron Throne against the ambitions of a foreign challenger. For the first time, the Targaryen dynasty had left a major war entirely to the execution of its vassals, expecting that those families whose ancestors had bent the knee to the Targaryens would lead the charge against the Blackfyre forces (while the sickly king retired in the capital and his young heir served as a mere squire). Why, men like Rickard, Jon, Hoster, and Brynden might have wondered, were they giving their blood and sweat - and the blood and sweat of their vassals in turn - for a dynasty which had decided that the feudal bargain meant little or nothing when it came to the Targaryens' responsibilities? If once the answer had been dragons, that answer was no longer true over a century after the death of the last dragon; I think the Starks, Tullys, and Arryns may have realized that, with the balance of power irrevocably (or so they thought) shifted, now was the time to ally together, the better to rewrite the feudal playbook in a way which better recognized their power and authority.

Conversely, and to the point you made, I do not see any reason why the maesters (assuming all maesters would even act for a single purpose, which I think is simply wrong) would have any desire to encourage these specific marriage and fostering arrangements. Even if we start with the idea that "the Maesters ... were pushing, pushing, for something, and they really needed to cinch Rickard in", what exactly was the end goal here? As you yourself note, it could not have been the extinction of the dragons (which had not existed for almost 150 years by this point), and there seems to have been no animosity on a political level between the Citadel and the Targaryen dynasty, certainly not by this time (indeed, the Citadel's representative enjoyed a place at the right hand of the monarch, as Grand Maester).

#asoiaf meta #southron ambitions

[sasukimimochi]

hey guys! had a nap so I'm back to update u guys properly. I'm going to try to summarize the post I made a bit better, as well as posting the picture I shared with the previews (as little as it is)

*TWPT extra image. Translation: ”Come back soon! - Lan Sizhui”

As always, check out my masterpost in order to get more content! ❤

So onto what I mentioned earlier today, I'm delaying Ch 27 of Ghost of Mine by at least one more week due to life continuing to throw shit my way. However I'm sharing some previews on ao3 (they will be removed when I upload 27, just like the aftercare ficlet). A longer explanation will be under the cut!

This is in addition to stuff that is still happening from my previous life update.

as you guys know the past tenants aren't really paying their dues, so I've been waiting on that & I got a large charge from an insurance company I wasn't expecting on top of that. Then I got a second charge from the same company, in the same month, for the usual amount. So we lost as much as 900+ dollars this month. As you can probably expect, that is a lot of money to lose at once unless you are reasonably wealthy and comfortable.

We only just today got our check for next month- early, which is great because we were worried that we would have to stretch things until the 3rd with no new groceries other than what my mom might be able to throw our way. Before we got the check as well my cats decided they absolutely did not like the food I got them- My cats aren't picky when they're hungry, so this was a bizarre and unexpected thing and I couldn't spare the money to buy a new bag of food (my mom helped us by buying a new bag of their previous food and essentially doing a trade with us, so she has the food they don't like) Just, in general a lot of stress is happening at the same time.

Onto GOM: I was writing recently (I can't remember the exact day, it was probably up to two weeks ago) as I did rewrite the entire beginning of Ch 27 and planned to cut out a lot more, which is why it's taking me much longer than expected to complete this chapter- it's my first show of proper investigation and intrigue that is a bit dangerous for the present time and not just, you know, only revealing information- I really want this chapter to be good and not rushed through like my initial first pass. It was a short-lived lapse in my stress when I wrote the first fourth of the rewrite, and I've hit a spot in the chapter that's difficult when my mind is so distracted by the stress.

SO, as to make up for this lack of update (again) I'm gonna give you guys three exclusive previews, one for the beginning of Ghost of Mine Ch 27 (just the first bit, not everything I've written so far bc its still prone to change and I want to give u guys the best version), the beginning of Rose Hips and Flushed Fingertips - The Story of Mo Xuanyu (GOM extra), and the beginning of The Wild Plum Tree (JC & LXC's story - GOM extra) so I hope you enjoy these exclusive previews, as they are all directly connected with the story and are canon to the GOM universe.

TLDR; struggling still, this is another delay. will check back in in about a week- I'm going to show you guys some exclusive previews for GOM related content that isn't yet released to make up for it right now! GOM CH 27, RH&FF (Ch.1/Part1), and TWPT (Ch.1).

PLEASE, KEEP IN MIND: the previews are still very prone to change. RH&FF/TWPT especially, since I am always struggling on how I write JC to make him feel canon to me (and he doesn't here, in my opinion, just bc I haven't described him well enough there) so just keep that in mind when you read!

So I hope you guys enjoy the previews and come back next Sunday!

#yes lsz “drew” the picture i shared with the preview #its still a little too nice for his age as of that timeline but ehhhh ignore it #sasu speaks #GOM update #Ghost of Mine preview #previews #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mdzs fanfiction #mdzs fanart #mdzs fanfic #jiang cheng #lan yuan #lan sizhui #mo xuanyu #wei wuxian #sketch #writing preview #mdzs fic

[the-english-student-studyblr]

Book Recommendations (from a lit grad student)

So, as I have come to the end of my MA in world lit, I thought I should give you a list of some of the best books I've read, or learnt from. I ignore established canon and give to you recommendations from across the globe and across all genres. Books that defined their genre, or made an impact, or are just really cool and enjoyable to read. This list is not all dead white men.

I have split the list by era/year of publication primarily for easy reading. A lot of the sections are arbitrary. Some of them are not.

Note: This list is not conclusive! This is based on my own readings, and my own, personal, opinions. You have the right to your own opinions and preferences. If you have any suggestions, add them on below.

Classic lit (pre-1700)

Aristole - Poetics (c. 335 BCE)

As much as I hate it...this one is actually pretty important. I know I said 'contributions to literary canon don't matter', and here I am, immediately doing the opposite. But! Aristotle's Poetics is the earliest treatise on literary theory that has survived to the modern day. You want to know where our ideas of comedy and tragedy come from? Poetics. Three act structure? Poetics. Plot and character? Poetics. Key terms like catharsis, hubris, hamartia? Poetics. We had to read this for creative writing, and did I hate it? Yes. Am I a better writer for having read it? Also yes

Plato - The Republic (c. 375 BCE)

Plato is quite easy to read, of the classical philosophers. His works are mostly dialogues between characters, which makes them more engaging that some other dry philosophy texts. I wrote out a longer post with an explanation of Plato's Republic specifically here.

Genji Monogatari (pre-1021)

The first novel ever! Originally written in Japanese, be careful of your translations because most are of questionable quality. I've only read the first one by Suematsu and that's uhhhhh Bad™ but I think the current waterstones edition is decent?

The Völsunga saga OR The Vinland sagas (early 13th century)

Ah, how to choose just one Norse saga? These are both pretty solid examples of their style, and short (always a plus). The Völsunga saga was the inspiration behind Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen (famous for the piece The Valkyrie), and most likely Tolkien's works. The Vinland sagas supposedly have an anime/manga series inspired by them, though looking at the synopsis I cannot see where the inspiration was other than time period. Norse sagas - especially the Icelandic ones such as Vinland - are actually pretty good guides to real historic events, which is very cool. I could go on for hours about this, but I'll spare you the rambling.

Thomas More - Utopia (1516)

Lovely little sarcastic book about tudor politics and human nature all wrapped up in the original 'utopian text'. Surprisingly funny for something written so long ago, and very easy to read. I wrote a longer post about it here

Aphra Behn - Oroonoko (1688)

Hated it, but the themes are interesting and wow did the author lead an interesting life. Widely considered to be the first novel written in English, deals with colonialism, slavery, and honour, and Aphra Behn was a spy? I'm sure some of you will eat that up. Be warned, very 'noble savage'-y book, but less racist than it could've been so cool, I guess?

Early Modern Drama

Christopher Marlowe - Edward II (1592)

Gay. So gay. We're not supposed to call it gay (because of a whole host of reasons that I can and will explain if anyone shows up in my askbox complaining about academics) but it is a very very queer play and Kit Marlowe was too which is even better. Also our one and only history play on this list. Anyone who already knows how Edward II died (thanks horrible histories) do not spoil the ending.

Shakespeare - Twelfth Night (1602)

As with any Shakespeare, watch a performance if you can. I highly recommend the National Theatre version that was up on youtube in 2020. Very gay, no one is cishet. Lots of singing and dancing. Prime example of Shakespeare's comedies with added gender shenanigans.

Shakespeare - Hamlet (1609)

Yes I'm basic. Yes I like Hamlet. In the same way that Twelfth Night is a great example of Shakespeare's comedies, Hamlet is a good example of his tragedies. Mostly, though, I'm recommending this because the castle it's set in in Denmark (Elsinore) a) actually exists and b) does an amazing educational programme, with live actors performing scenes all across the castle! Watching the 'to be or not to be' soliloquy in the banquet hall just adds a whole other level to the experience of reading the play.

Shakespeare - Measure for Measure OR The Tempest

Shakespeare's problem plays. I couldn't pick just one, because they're both fantastic in different ways. Measure for Measure features what can only be described as the early-modern version of an ace protagonist - Isabella - who I adore. The Tempest has a really interesting portrayal of early colonialism and slavery. The reason they are 'problem plays' is they check all the boxes for a comedy...but they're not funny. At all. And they also check some of the boxes for a tragedy. They're certainly interesting reading

Ben Jonson - The Alchemist (1610)

Just a really good, solid play. Very funny. Bunch of con artists set up an elaborate scheme to rob rich people. Also very good for showing class structures of the time. Shakespeare gets all the recognition for this era but Jonson is just as good really, and definitely as clever.

Regency and Victorian lit (1700-1900)

Jane Austen

Literally anything by Austen. She is just so funny, so witty, and I wholeheartedly believe she'd be a feminist today. Master of the female gaze in literature, but beyond that she is basically credited with the invention of free indirect discourse, which is super cool. I have only read Pride and Prejudice, but I have heard good things about most of her books, so I don't feel bad recommending all of them.

William Blake

There's one poem by Blake about a London street urchin that breaks my heart every time I read it and that is the sole reason behind this recommendation I hate Romantic poets.

Mary Shelley - Frankenstein (1818)

You knew it was coming. First sci-fi, gothic horror, teenage girl writer. Gotta love Shelley.

Frederik Douglass - Narrative of the Life of Frederik Douglass (1845)

You know those books that are horrifying because they're real? That's this book. Doesn't shy away from the horrors of slavery and for a reason. This is an autobiography. It is not fiction.

Gowongo Mohawk - Wep-ton-no-mah (1890s)

My favourite play of all time. You will need to do a trip to either the British Library or the Library of Congress to read it because there are no other copies, but I did do a whole podcast episode about it because I'm apparently the expert? You can find it here.

Bram Stoker - Dracula (1894)

I know here on tumblr we adore Dracula, and for good reason. It's horrifying, it's got a blorbo, if you haven't read it already, go with a dracula daily read-through or @re-dracula for the best experience. (Re:Dracula also has episodes where they get scholars on to talk about things like racism and gender and queer theory surrounding the text which is SO COOL as an ex-lit student I love listening to those episodes.

Post-1900

Oscar Wilde - De Profundis (1905)

We had to read a snippet of this for A-Level and I wish it had been more because wow. Most lists like this will recommend Dorian Gray because it's a novel, but De Prof is so heartfelt and beautiful and sad and deserves to be read.

Baroness Orczy - The Scarlet Pimpernel (1905)

First masked vigilante/superhero! If you like comic books or superhero media, this is where it all started (funny how all the firsts so far have been written by women 🤔)

Erich Maria Remarque - All Quiet on the Western Front (1929)

If you only read one book in your life about WW1 make it this one! It is heartbreaking and beautifully written and makes you feel so many things. It was banned in...a lot of places for being anti-war (especially as WW2 came closer) and also because it was written by a German who was anti-war which was apparently impossible to comprehend. The prose is truly something to behold.

Modern lit (Post-war era)

George Orwell - 1984 (1948) OR Animal Farm (1945)

Which one you should read depends a lot on how long your preferred book is and how metaphorical your tastes are. Both are very good explorations of corrupt governments. Animal Farm is an easier read and shorter and is much more allegorical. 1984 is very in-your-face about how much authoritarian governments suck. Do not discount 1984 just because Winston is a terrible person. Everyone knows he's terrible. That's the whole point. He is a normal terrible person, not a cartoonishly evil terrible person, or an angelically perfect revolutionary. All the characters are realistic for their situation.

Maya Angelou - I know why the caged bird sings (1969)

Another one with some beautiful prose. She's a poet and you can tell. It's an autobiography, plus there's a lot of clever stuff going on with how it's written. You could write an essay about this. I did.

Ghassan Khanafani - Return to Haifa (1969)

A short story by a Palestinian author - we were given this by our Palestinian lecturer as an intro to the conflict and the terrible things that colonialism has done to the region. Additionally, there are notes throughout that help explain the significance of things and background and all that jazz. There is a play version that is probably easier to find because it was published more recently but it's not as good.

Ben Okri - The Famished Road (1993)

I did not read this book for uni and I think that may have influenced my opinion of it slightly but I still credit it as one of the reasons I got interested in world lit and translation. It's a really beautiful exploration of Nigerian mythological tradition and its effect on family and politics in this kind of fascinatingly weird style that's both magical realism and modernist? I hate modernism but love magical realism more so.

Carmen Maria Machado - In the Dream House (2019)

What a book oh wow. It reads like poetry. I cannot think of anything coherent to say my brain is screaming. The novel explores abuse in queer relationships, which is something people don't normally talk about, through some very interesting motifs and I love it so much. It is hard to read, but very rewarding.

#studyblr #english lit student #bookblr #book recommendations #maybe i will do another one for theory #maybe i will not #classics #literature #the lack of early 1900s stuff distresses me but also #i am not and never have been a fan of that era #i am not willing to inflict virginia woolf or ts eliot on anyone #my specialties are all pre-1900 or post-war soooo

[shakesqueers13]

Awesome choice, @kaylinelizabeth4004 ! If you played the character, I'm sure you have a lot of great insight on this speech already, but let's break it down!

Sorry if you already know some of the stuff I'm going to talk about, I just want to make sure all my explanations are accessible for all levels!

Also this started out as being trying to be objective and ended with me just breaking down my own interpretation so I apologize haha. But enough disclaimers:

For background, The Tempest is generally thought to be Shakespeare's last play, or at least the last one he wrote by himself. For this reason, some scholars interpret Prospero's final speech as Shakespeare's farewell to the stage.

Fatherhood shows up in many of Shakespeare's plays, partly because it was impractical to write many mother characters due to there being no female actors, but also potentially because Shakespeare himself was a dad. We think he probably had at least four children; the oldest daughter, Susanna; two twins, Judith and Hamnet; and probably at one illegitimate son, William. As you may know, Shakespeare's son Hamnet died when he was eleven. His two remaining daughters both married.

So Shakespeare expresses feelings of fatherhood in many of his plays, possibly due to his love for his own children. Hamlet is obviously the most common example of this, but The Tempest is also very relevant to this topic due to Prospero's love for his daughter.

Additionally, Prospero is a creator; in loose terms, an artist. Much like Shakespeare, he commands the stage and invents scenarios, controlling characters and events like a writer would. Prospero references "The great globe" in act four (I believe), and "Prospero's Books" have been widely speculated on, and some interpretations I've seen have gone so far as to suggest that Prospero is making all the magic up, or writing the whole story to entertain himself or Miranda.

All to say, I favor the interpretation that Shakespeare wrote Prospero's last speech as a farewell to the stage and to the audience.

So, if we get into the line by line breakdown, let's start by looking at the meter.

Notably, Prospero's final speech is not written in iambic pentameter. It's closer to trochaic tetrameter — trochaic is the opposite stress pattern of iambic, meaning that the first syllable is stressed rather than the second. Now for a tetrameter, lines should be eight syllables, but for the most part Prospero falls short of this, coming in at seven syllables in almost every line. So it's a weird meter, to say the least. Usually when Shakespeare writes in this reverse-heartbeat pattern, he's trying to creep the audience out. The witches in Macbeth sometimes speak like this.

All this said, there's different verse-types wound all through the speech. Some iambic, some just prose... It's weird!

So what was Shakespeare's purpose in writing it this way? Well, it was certainly intentional. As I've mentioned in past posts, when studying Shakespeare, one of the first things I learned was that we never blame things on sloppy writing, or on the meter. Shakespeare just didn't write like that; his choices were very intentional. When he breaks out of verse, he wants us to notice. Like here:

"Now my charms are all o’erthrown,  And what strength I have ’s mine own,"

From the first couplet here, the syllable count and the trochaic pattern is unusual. Only the rhyme scheme is familiar.

In my opinion, the answer to why Shakespeare choses to write in this style here is evident from the first line of the speech. He is casting off his charms; his poetry, his familiar meter, and all his tricks. In the context of the play, of course, these lines make sense, but they also make sense in the overarching context of Shakespeare's life. If we view it as Prospero sort of transforming into Shakespeare in this moment, it works. Of course, this is only one possible interpretation, but I favor it, as I said above. In writing 'What strength I have 's mine own,' it's not too much of a stretch to imagine Shakespeare casting off a character, and also casting off his poetry in a way, and writing from the heart.

The lines from 'which is most faint' to ' in this bare island' are pretty plot-relevant, so I'll skip over them.

But when we get to this part: "But release me from my bands With the help of your good hands."

Again, I feel like I can see right through this speech to the man who wrote it.

If you've read Midsummer Night's Dream, these lines are reminiscent of Puck's final address to the audience. Puck's line, "Give me your hands if we be friends" refers to his asking the audience to clap for him and the other players.

I like to think that Shakespeare wrote plays because he loved them, but we also know that he wrote to make money. When the plagues closed the theaters, he printed and sold his writing. He wrote for the people and hoped to draw them in. So it's totally possible that writing plays could've felt like 'bands,' or an obligation of sorts. And with the support of audiences, and their applause, or 'good hands,' he was able to amass a small fortune, and make a name for himself. He owed so much to his audience!! And he totally knew it.

So, he continues on:

"Gentle breath of yours my sails  Must fill, or else my project fails,  Which was to please. Now I want  Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,"

Continuing to express gratitude to his audience for their support of him through the story of Prospero's journey home. Now, the use of 'project' is interesting to me, because it implies that Shakespeare had an overarching idea of what he wanted to do with his writing.

This is a tangent which I won't elaborate on here, but I am a major hater of the widely accepted theory that Shakespeare had no desire for a legacy or for his plays to live on after him. I could go on and on about that, but I won't. I just bring it up because his mention of a desire to please, presumably to please the audience, and his 'project,' again presumably to entertain the audience and even maybe to create a legacy for himself and his family.

There is a parallel to be drawn between Prospero's use of spirits in the play and Shakespeare's use of characters or actors. As we know, Shakespeare often manipulates stories with the use of the supernatural, including The Tempest itself. The relation between "spirits to enforce" and "art to enchant" is also interesting, because we can see that Shakespeare directly associates this kind of supernatural occurrences with his own art.

And in the final few lines:

"And my ending is despair,  Unless I be relieved by prayer,  Which pierces so that it assaults  Mercy itself, and frees all faults.   As you from crimes would pardoned be,  Let your indulgence set me free."

Something about Shakespeare ending his career with rhyming couplets makes me so crazy. The same format as the ending of a sonnet, and he uses it to end what was probably his last play.

This is part of why it annoys me so much to hear people say that Shakespeare never wanted a legacy. These words, to me, do not read as the thoughts of a man who had no desire to be remembered. In this final section, he directly references his own ending, (or Prospero's, but I'm going off of the Shakespeare's-goodbye theory), and once again calls upon the audience to free him with their good will and their favor. His tacit apology for any faults or "crimes" seems to speak to the entirety of his career, and his desire to be freed by indulgence speaks to his choice to end with a comedy rather than a tragedy. This is an optimistic choice that makes me happy to think about, especially considering how many tragedies were likely inspired by his own life.

So yeah! I love this speech, and a goal of mine is to one day direct a production of The Tempest. I have a lot of ideas for it, haha.

I hope you find this interesting. Thanks for sending in an ask!! Also, sorry for any typos haha, I didn't proofread very thoroughly.

#shakespeare #william shakespeare #dark academia #academia #ask #the tempest #literature

[vera-deville]

An imagine

Malleus and Leona's reaction to a vampire MC

An imagine, eh?

I gotchu~

08/22/2022

Pairings: Malleus Draconia; Leona Kingscholar x Reader (separately)

Word Count: 913 (for Malleus), 581 (for Leona)

Warnings: Blood will be involved seeing as we're dealing with vampires here. Let me know if I've missed any other warnings and I'll be sure to add them!

Gender: Gender neutral as it was not specified in the request.

Notes: So, just a little while ago, @happilyasimp and I were discussing their OC for Twisted Wonderland, Eclipse. Now, Eclipse happens to be a vampire, so I've driven a lot of inspiration from him!

I've taken creative liberty writing how Y/N is portrayed as a vampire.

Also, I'm really sorry, but I personally think that what I wrote for Malleus differs in quality with what I wrote for Leona (as in Malleus's fic has greater quality than Leona). I didn't mean for it to come out that way, but as I was writing, things just happened.

If you are not satisfied, please, by all means, request once more and I'll be sure to do my best to deliver!

In which Malleus Draconia and Leona Kingscholar react to their significant other being a vampire.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus always sensed that something was...different about Y/N. The way they carried themselves was rather elegant, not unlike the fae he grew up with. And something about them seemed hauntingly alluring. So much so that Malleus questioned if Y/N wasn't human.

But that wasn't the only thing about Y/N. They had an incredibly sensitive sense of smell. Scents that others enjoyed seemed overpowering to them and made them extremely nauseous.

Just the other day, Malleus and Y/N took a walk in the botanical garden when he noticed how sickly Y/N looked. Worried, he questioned the Ramshackle prefect if something was wrong. It was then that Y/N admitted that they had a really sensitive nose and the fragrances that emitted from the flowers was making them extremely nauseous.

Immediately, Malleus escorted Y/N out of the garden and the two decided to spend the rest of their time in the Ramshackle dorm.

But once again, the elegance and sensitive nose weren't the only things about Y/N that intrigued Malleus.

Y/N didn't eat much food, which concerned him at times, because he was sure that humans were supposed to eat rather regularly. Every time he questioned Y/N about their lack of appetite, they played it off as simply that - a lack of appetite.

Malleus's significant other, though elegant, was a clumsy one. The disasters they found themselves in often were nothing short of painful, but Malleus took notice that they healed rather quickly. Y/N always joked that their body must have gotten used to their clumsiness over the years and that's why they have an recovery rate like no other.

There were times when Y/N sneezed whenever the two were out during the day. When questioned about this, the Ramshackle prefect explained to Malleus that they had a condition known as a "Photic Sneeze Reflex" which essentially meant that they sneezed when they encountered a sudden and drastic change in light.

Malleus knew that was a lie.

While Y/N did sneeze whenever they stepped into sunlight, according to the explanation of their condition, that's where the sneezing should have ended. The sneezing had no reason to continue well after Y/N got used to the sunlight.

But he never pushed Y/N for the answers he wanted. He figured that Y/N tell him when they were ready.

On one fine night, Malleus was taking one of his usual nightly strolls. He ended up reaching a part of NRC where it was essentially a forest when his ears caught wind of something.

Rustling.

Curious, he found himself making his way towards the sound. Malleus wasn't sure of what to expect because the rustling seemed to stay in one place and was rather loud. It most definitely couldn't have been a rabbit.

Finally, Malleus found himself in a small clearing.

And in front of a fiend-looking thing that seemed to be sucking the life out of a deer.

Indeed, that was most certainly not what he was expecting.

His presence alerted the creature and it was only after they turned around that Malleus realized their clothes were that of NRC.

And their face was that of his significant other.

The two of them froze like the gargoyles Malleus loved to fawn over. It seemed like the world that surrounded them also didn't move an inch. That was until the deer stirred awake and ran away.

Y/N's eyes were a deep, blood red, unlike their usual color and somehow gradually they seemed to lose the redness. And what's more, two little fangs peeked out of their mouth, one stained with a red substance that looked far too much like blood.

And all at once, it hit Malleus like a ton of bricks.

Slowly approaching Y/N who still seemed a little...crazed, he slowly put a hand on their shoulder and knelt down to them.

"Why did you never tell me?"

Now it was Y/N's turn to be hit by a figurative ton of bricks. They shook their head, trying to still and bring back their mind. The red hue in their eyes seemed to be almost gone now.

Looking up at Malleus, they answered "Because I wasn't ready."

Y/N so desperately wanted to just blurt out everything they kept from Malleus, but nothing came out.

And somehow, their Tsunotarou was alright with it. Even after all this time, after seeing them in the state they were in, he didn't pry more than he should have. So much so it was to a fault.

The two lovers sat in the forest ground, silence enveloping them. The world surrounding them snapped out of it's trance and went on as though nothing had changed. And in Y/N's heart, they knew, while some aspects of their relationship would change, it wouldn't be a bad thing.

Malleus and Y/N eventually made it back to NRC and opted to talk about what Malleus had witnessed in the Ramshackle dorm.

Grim was told rather strictly not to interrupt their talk by Y/N and for once, he didn't make much of a fuss about it.

Y/N explained how they were a species of demihumans known as vampires. Of course, Malleus knew what vampires were, though his knowledge on their race was rather limited.

The end of Y/N's explanation ended in them snuggled up with Malleus sharing random tidbits about their race and family back home.

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona could literally sniff out the fact that Y/N wasn't like other humans. Demihumans tended to have a different type of smell. And what's more, amongst demihumans, the scents varied per race.

So it was even before the two started dating that Leona bluntly questioned Y/N about their, according to him, weird smell.

Y/N was offended to say the least.

And it was before the two started dating that Y/N told him about their being a vampire. Leona didn't really care about that, but the fact that they're a vampire meant more opportunities to tease them~

And tease the hell out them he did.

Usually, Leona sticks to remarks about Y/N. Just about every chance he gets, he tells Y/N that they have "baby fangs." It doesn't help that Y/N is shorter than Leona and he keeps teasing them for their short stature.

Not everyone is a beanstalk like you Leona.

Leona loves to sunbathe. Y/N sneezes in the sun. Solution?

Hug Y/N to his chest so that they don't see the sun.

Leona does make childish remarks about how they can't see Y/N's reflection and he keeps getting food for them that has far too much garlic. It's supposed to be a satirical ode to vampire stereotypes, but the only people getting a kick out of it are Leona and Ruggie. Jack doesn't really care.

On a more serious note, Leona does understand that Y/N does need blood to survive. And he does tell them that it's okay to drink his blood, although they vehemently refuse to do so.

One night, Leona and Y/N were cuddled up in his bed talking about whatever passed through their minds (although it was Y/N doing the talking and Leona listening with his eyes closed. Y/N told him about a vampire book series that existed back in their world and how it was absolutely ridiculous.

I mean, since when do vampires sparkle in the sun? Everyone knows they just sneeze when they come into contact with the sun.

Leona found the "Twilight" series that Y/N talked about ridiculous, but what captured him more was how animatedly Y/N was when ranting about the sheer stupidity of vampiric lore in that series.

At one point, Y/N started ranting about the Volturi in Twilight and how aristocratic clans amongst vampires were almost always portrayed so incorrectly. This intrigued Leona to some extent and he ended up asking how real vampire aristocracy were.

And that's how he found out that his precious herbivore (can they still be called "herbivore") was actual part of a aristocratic family.

They were a middle child with two older siblings and two younger ones.

Leona was particularly intrigued by the fact that Y/N claimed to have a very close relationship with all of their siblings. As it turned out, one of their closest friends was their eldest sibling, the next in line to be the head of their coven.

Y/N had talked about missing their family before, and all Leona could do was exist by their side. He didn't have the power to send them back and he wasn't sure if he could send them back.

This had Leona thinking on a subconscious level about his relationship with Farena. Perhaps if things had turned out differently, he would have actually gotten along with Farena the way Y/N said they did with their sibling.

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twst #twst imagines #imagines #twisted wonderland fluff #possibly slight angst #romance #vampire #malleus draconia #leona kingscholar #malleus draconia x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #malleus x reader #leona x reader #reader #yuu #vera deville #the marchioness

[no2tinngunsupporter]

Getting to know your BL mutuals - 2022 Edition

Simple, answer the questions. @ some people. Include the tag 'g2ky BL mutuals 2022' on your post so we can find everyone's answers!

Thank you to the lovely @sunflower-lychee for tagging me! I never get @ in these so I’m very happy 🥰

(Truthfully this year I have been kinda slow with watching new shows BUT I will do my best!) 

What has been the BL that took you by surprise this year?

Love In The Air!

I remember watching the pilot trailer when it aired but truthfully I forgot about this show until everyone started talking about it again 😅 Anyways... I fell in love so fast it’s not even funny. My mental health has been meh at best the past few months and I needed a show like LITA to just watch without having to really think :) Also the cast? Like?! In love with all four of them (especially Noeul).

The Eclipse!

I watched ep 1 when it first came out but never continued the show because I wasn’t feeling it (little did I know 🤡). Everyone was hyping this show up so I made myself sit down and watch it... ended up binging all 6 (aired) episodes and safe to say I was hooked... I mean if anyone on here saw my blog you were probably fed up of me talking about this show (very sorry). So yeah... It’s now one of my favourite BLs. We won’t talk about the cast because I will never stop, lets just say I am now a Neo and khaotung fanpage!  

This technically doesn’t count but I finally watched Bad Buddy this year and I’m mad at myself for waiting so long.

What has been the BL that you felt a bit disappointed with this year?

Cutie Pie- I didn’t dislike it but I found myself getting bored and skipping a lot, especially towards the end... shout out to Perth in that black shirt tho😏 Also loved the side couples

Even Sun- Listen I will do anything for BounPrem but lord I was struggling with this one. Why was the intro so long?! also who wrote the script because ooft. Skipped everything apart from the BounPrem scenes. 

What has been your favourite BL this year?

KinnPorsche- Lets all act surprised! This show was my entire personality all summer and the reason I came back to tumblr lol. Met so many lovely and amazing people because of this show and it will always have a special place in my heart. It also gave us the masterpiece that is Why Don’t You Stay aka my most played song of 2022. Again the cast is everything to me! 

Semantic Error- No explanation needed for this one really. I swear Seoham has been in the military for years! Why is it going so slowly?! 

Between Us- Are we only 4 episodes in? Yes. Do I care? NOPE! After waiting almost 3 years they could just stand in that locker room arguing for 12 episodes and I would still watch every second! As much as i tried not to, I did and still do have high expectations for this show BUT so far everything is perfect- I don’t really care about Team’s friends as characters or the relationship between Bee and Prince? but I also don’t hate it.

Favourite BL couples (not just of 2022)?

This is so hard to narrow down 😭 (I will refrain from going into detail otherwise we will be here all day)

WinTeam (I mean ^) 

RamKing (My Engineer) 

Sangwoo and Jaeyoung (Semantic Error)

PatPran (Bad Buddy)

VegasPete (KinnPorsche)

RainPayu and SkyPrapai (Payu and Pai are THE perfect boyfriends) 

AkkAyan (I truly can’t tell if it’s because I love the characters or if I am just down so bad for First and Khao 🥲)

There’s definitely more couples who should be on this list but my brain isn’t working rn

If you had to suggest a BL for someone what would it be?

Not Me- Everyone needs to watch it at least once in their live

Young Royals- It was actually my friend who doesn’t watch BLs that recommended it to me 

We Best Love- Maybe It’s just me but I adore that show

Also Where Your Eyes Linger so there is someone else who can suffer with me about how short it was! 

What's your non-BL favourite for this year?

This spot is strictly for Alice In Borderland 2 (when it airs) 

BUT

Until then... Business Proposal and Bridgerton.

This was so much harder than i thought it would be omg... anyways my aks are always open and I love talking about anything with anyone so feel free to say hi :) 

Tagging: @ahdriking @kurtstiel and @aleng-neng (and anyone else who wants to join in)

(If any of you already did this and I missed it, I am sorry 😅)

#g2ky bl mutuals 2022 #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #love in the air #LITA #the eclipse #cutie pie the series #Not Me the series #my engineer #we best love #Between us #winteam #akkayan #vegaspete #semantic error #phayu x rain #prapai x sky #young royals #i give up with tags

[sonofthesaiyans]

Three years ago today, a nightmare repeated itself.

Of course, I am talking about the day "Assassin's Bullet" first aired, courtesy of Studio MAPPA. When Attack on Titan's best girl was cruelly ripped away from us.

All this time, and I'm STILL furious about the fate of our beloved Sasha. The very heart and soul of Titan, and who's completely unjustified and needlessly cruel and drawn out end made the entire fucking series, both in the manga and the anime, UNWATCHABLE.

I hoped so hard that season four would never get adapted after season three came to its conclusion, and those hopes were dashed when MAPPA came into the picture.

I would NEVER watch any of MAPPA's shows, all because they went through and adapted this one single, evil episode, from the mind of the very bastard who wrote it into existence.

Like in the manga this horrific scene was drawn out and designed to twist the knife to the absolute maximum. Such an undeserving fate for such a beloved character, not allowed to go out with any kind of real dignity, just given the cheapest fucking death Isayama dared to throw at us, just because we know for sure he was just that eager to rid us of Sasha, and to punish us for daring to connect to her. The blood on her mouth as she was bleeding out, unable to speak and staring blankly as she slipped away.......I NEVER WOULD HAVE TOUCHED THIS ANIME IF IT MEANT SPARING MYSELF THAT ONE IMAGE. And it's that image that defines my whole experience with AOT. And what was it all for? For THIS.

Gabi MotherFUCKING Braun. A character who nobody liked even before this chapter and episode saw the light of day, a character who is NOT interesting, NOT likable or sympathetic in any sense, a character who is NOT essential to the story, and who actively brought it down not just by stealing Sasha's rightful place, but also by stealing focus away from not just her, but from nearly every other aspect of the story that suddenly had to make room for her incredibly forced and insincere "redemption arc". That's a load of crap, Gabi didn't earn her right to redemption any more than Reiner, Annie, or Eren himself did. The fact that Gabi suddenly because Isayama's primary obsession for 80% of the final season is the most crass and unacceptable display of favoritism on the part of any author. I have never had any reason to connect with Gabi or to take any sympathy upon her, and I will continue to vie for the scene where the little bitch gets her dues. Because she did NOT earn her right to live, let alone exist in this story. And I will continue to demand an explanation for Sasha's missing armor plate. We know what the game is there........I want to hear it from the man himself for pulling such a transparent stunt. Long story short, go fuck yourselves, the staff and animators of Studio MAPPA. You are all dead to me.

And that goes tenfold for Hajime Isayama. I hope one day I'll be the guy to bear upon you all of the anger and stress I have felt because of you since the day you unleashed Chapter 105 and in doing so, stole something very precious from us. You should have left well enough alone.

And with that, something I've been wanting to share for a long time......

Courtesy of a good friend of mine. You Gabi apologists out there, you will never believe who I have to thank for giving me this fitting tribute ......

I can only hope one day, our beloved Potato Girl will finally get the justice she deserves, and restored to us as she ought to be.

There is no Attack on Titan without Sasha. 🥔 ⚔️ 🥔

(I realize this intended post is a little late.......but if you've spent enough time here, you know I'm not one to keep things brief when it comes to our Best Girl.)

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #hajime isayama #snk spoilers #i hate isayama #fuck isayama #fuck attack on titan #fuck assassin's bullet #anti assassin's bullet #snk ending #aot anime #snk anime #aot manga #pieck manga #anti snk 105 #snk 105 #sasha aot #sasha snk #attack on titan sasha #i love sasha so much #sasha braus #sasha blouse #gabi hate #gabi snk #i hate gabi #fuck gabi #gabi braun #garbage braun #gabi aot #snk gabi

[mako-neexu]

Man. You wanna know what would really fuck up Guda. Have it turn out that there was a way for the lostbelts to exist and have PHH be returned and safe. Like marisbury or whoever explains how easy it would be to have PHH and lostbelts exist. And Guda just.... breaks. The one thing that comforted them whenever a lostbelt was destroyed was that it was doomed anyway and was the only thing that could bring back PHH. But now knowing that all that sacrifice, all that death, all that pain could have been preventable leads to all the guilt crushing Guda and they snap. Rest of the Chaldea crw have to watch as Guda breaks down in tears and laughter, saying "I have to fix this I have to make up for my sins I have to BRING THEM BACK". And, either by becoming a beast or using the holy grails they collected they begin to reform CHALDEAS to recreate a "perfect world" for the worlds that they remember.

(sorry if this was a long post but this idea has been on my mind for a while)

Im sorry for taking so long! But I really wanted to write at least something about this!

For smoe reason, I can't write Guda's POV? Im used to friendly, and goofy, suffering guda with a little bit of melancholy gaze xD (i mostly use guda of JP interpretation)

But its a concept I wanted to explore a little bit: Where nearly all the Servants side by their Master and very few stay at Chaldea, a world where Fujimaru Ritsuka truly becomes "selfish", Similar to the story, guda produced tears from her memories, stars that contain stories, creates what-if worlds that made Patxi see the blue sky, Gerda be able to grow up, a happy family for Asha, Vihan, and Ajay, a different tomorrow for Macarios and Adele, a kind of peace and freedom for the inhabitants in the chinese lostbelt and more... perhaps including those she lost from before "Part 2" started.

I want Homuhomu alive so I wrote it that hes alive post-traum XD i love holmes so i want to try writing him too if only a little bit

---

“How terrifying.”

It was one phrase accompanied with a sigh. A mere phrase uttered so simply, so casually by the detective that Goredolf immediately knew something was wrong.

“Well, care to grace us with your findings, Administrative Advisor?”

Because as it stands now, they wouldn’t be able to defeat their once cornerstone of their whole operation.

Leaning against his seat, the detective pressed on the hologram, allowing Goredolf to see the statistics that will now predict their fate.

“As you can see, this is our probability of being able to win against the battle with our former Master.”

….Five percent.

The brit must be kidding. 

The blond man cleared his throat and dabbed at the sweat beading his forehead, “I’m not finding this funny, Holmes.”

“If only I had the ability to joke as well, Director.”

Goredolf grit his teeth, unwilling to believe the information stated before him, “Does that account our current resources? What about with the help of Zemlupus? And our reserves?”

“Would you like to know what the percentage would look like if all our assets and potential ones are removed?”

Shit.

A shiver, and a tremble, down to his bones, he absolutely despises the day Fujimaru Ritsuka started to drift away from them.

The very same day it was his fault for letting them astray in the first place.

–

It was merely an offhand comment. A simple thought that slipped past his lips before leading to a series of explanations and answers that he shared with her that morning.

A sigh, a sip of his coffee, “Tsk, this would’ve been handled easier if the first Director wasn’t so hellbent on reaching the Root in a way that would take the rest of the world with it…”

Orange-red hair passed by before stopping, curious with his statement, “Eh? What do you mean Director?”

He handed her the tablet beside him, scrolling through the document, “Here. Long story short, our research led us to the high possibility of the Lostbelts having had a high chance of existing alongside Panhistory as ‘closed reality marbles’ in their respective locations. For example, the Permafrost Empire could have a portal located in one of the major cities of Russia, either in Moscow or St. Petersberg to continue existing. So long as it occurred in the country, these false histories should- Fujimaru?”

The master either seemed to be too absorbed in reading or processing what he said. But that didn’t stop Goredolf from worrying.

“Director.” A frail and weak voice, a voice that had the man put his cup down in concern, “Fuji-”

“So you mean to say… that they could have lived alongside us?”

-

Servants are heavily influenced by the emotion their Master feels because of the connections. And the stronger the Master aptitude is, the stronger that connection between them is. 

To the near hundreds whom they’ve summoned as an organization, it was a fact that everyone knew, but didn’t really acknowledge much.

In this situation, the only ones who aren’t affected by it, was Mash, Kadoc, Goredolf, and the remaining Chaldea staff.

As emotions influence judgment and rationale, so too are actions that were to be made.

Kyrielight shouts her noble phantasm’s name just as the shadowy figure of Edmond Dantes deployed his own. Her defense could only last long, but they were in a tight pinch as he was also busy covering her back. 

“Shit.” He curses, barely dodging the Dragon Witch’s flames and spears, “Where the hell is that Atlas Mage’s so-called support?!”

“She said a minute more!” Mash huffed, covering his back before Arjuna’s arrows rained down on them.

“Well, we won’t last more than ten seconds with the way things are at!”

Fucking shit. Their only exit has been cut off, the support they need and more are on that bastard’s side, and moreover, they had to get this Tear to the border!

Before Kadoc knew it, a sea of pink flowers flooded the labyrinth, sweeping away all Servants except them- but he didn’t dwell on it further as he was carried under Kyrielight’s arm, an opportunity to make a break for it.

Unable to hold back as they boarded the ship, he saw Merlin giving them a wave and a smile before a sword swung down on him.

Kadoc swallowed and broke his gaze, clicking his tongue in irritation as he clutched at the Tear closely.

-

Sion was the first to greet them after the hatch had been opened.

“Man, so sorry about that. We had to reduce the number of Nemo marines and bakers to man the ship and conserve mana, and summoning someone had been difficult especially when our access to the Throne got cut off but I managed to get Merlin’s help when we got a hold of one of his flowers.”

Kadoc sighed, “We were really close to dying back there, y’know? Couldn’t you have at least lent us some firepower?” But he held out the box he had been carrying to the mage.

Mash took it, gently, carefully, just like she had done to the others, “Sion-san, we have the Tear.”

The genius nodded opening it to reveal a star that glowed brightly, yet packing enough mana to create a giant crater almost the size of the Indian Ocean on the surface of the earth.

“...Ritsuka’s Tears are really special, huh?”

Mash bit her lower lip and looked away, “It does contain her most precious memories of each singularity and lostbelt after all.”

Not wanting to contribute to the sombering mood, Kadoc began shedding his coat, “We have one more to go right?”

“That’s correct. We will be leaving for Antarctica in a few hours. Nemo is working double time to make sure we’re camouflaged so I’ll be handling the controls with Da Vinci soon. Which means…”

They will have to rush back to the beginning to end all of this.

It was ridiculous but they’ve got no choice if they want to collect all of her Tears containing those precious moments framed in grief and guilt.

Honestly, he couldn’t take it anymore. It was terrifying just being alive right now in this world filled with nothing but endless white. Still, he doesn’t wanna die. And he’d like to punch that Master so she could snap out of it, tell her that this wasn’t what the people she loved wanted her to do.

—Or finally lay her to rest, a way of giving her a reunion with the people who are no longer in this world.

Just like she wanted.

#insert the sweating dude speedrun meme #<me forcing myself to not include romani reference lmaooo #fgo #ask #anon #sorry for mistakes i die early