#been awhile and now i have no idea how to operate anything

[siookie]

theres a new sheriff in town 🤠

#did a revamp so i figured id honor ginny #yeehaw #i guess #been awhile and now i have no idea how to operate anything #gshade? dont know her #mysims #ginny mysims #mysims ginny #my bbs #mysims recreations #the sims 4 cas #the sims 4 #ts4 cas #ts4 #the sims #s4 #sims 4 #s4 cas #sims 4 cas #sims #cas

[adickaboutspoons]

Ah, Cuddling for Warmth, my beloved! And yet, I've never written it. So it goes a little something like this:

So did you know that Historical Blackbeard used to frequent the Chesapeake Bay? And that in fall of 1717 he was operating there with Stede Bonnet? Well, your girl is from Maryland, & has come home many a trick-or-treat barely able to feel her fingers.AU where Ed investigated why Stede didn't meet him, & stumbled across the scene with Chauncey. Stede is in shock, non-verbal, white-faced, practically immobile. Ed's survival instincts take over - he gets Stede to the dingy, rowing them away, keeping a running monologue about how everything's going to be ok; they'll be in China before he knows it. Stede eventually comes to himself enough to say "I have to go back." Ed is like, yeah, we can't do that right now. Stede is in full meltdown mode, barely able to choke out disconnected nonsense about "ruin" & "my family" & "I'm a monster." Ed is doing his best to calm him down, but he's only seen Stede like this right before the reveal of his plan to evade the Spanish, & Stede is the one that has it all figured out - is cool & calm & in charge when Ed is freaking out. He has no idea how to be that for Stede. He just keeps talking about China & how nice everything will be & they'll be safe. Eventually Stede snaps "I can't go to China with you! I have to go home! I have to save my family!"

Ed feels it like a slap. It would be one thing if Stede just didn't want to go to China. He'd go anywhere Stede wanted him to. But Stede doesn't want to go anywhere with him. Stede wants to go back to Mary.

"Yeah. Alright. We'll get you back to your family," he says, his voice leaden. "But we can't go now. Two infamous pirates ran out on their Grace & a dead admiral in the woods? There won't be a cove they don't scour trying to find us. Caribbean's gonna be too hot for awhile. We gotta go somewhere until things die down a little."

"Not China."

"Yeah. Not China," Ed agrees, stepping down hard on the urge to sob. Think. You can feel later, but right now you have to think. "I know a place," he says eventually. "Up north. No one will think to look for us there."

Stede doesn't say anything. He's huddled at the other end of the dinghy rocking & staring off into nothing, but he nods his head a little, so Ed takes that as good enough. The rest of the trip back to the Revenge is silent.

A tall ship can travel at up to 10 knots, but usually more around 3-4 (don't look at me like that, I already looked this up for a different fic), & it's ~1800 nautical miles from Bridgetown to Annapolis (go ahead & look at me like that; I DID look that up just now, but I have a nifty little nautical distance calculator bookmarked from the previously mentioned fic), so that's about 24 days journey, which puts them in Maryland around October 28th.

Ed was born in Bristol; though he's spent most of his adult life in the Caribbean, he's got his fair share of chilly, drizzly autumns under his belt.

Stede was Barbados born-&-bred. He's never been so cold & miserable in his life. He's consumed with what Chauncey said, out-of-his-mind with worry for his family (he thought they'd be better off without him. Oh, God! What has happened to them?), & if all that wasn't bad enough, Ed has been so distant since they got back to the ship. Probably it's finally dawned on him just how ruinous his association with Stede really is. Probably he's withdrawing to insulate himself from further contamination.

Good for him.

Since I'm a The Metaphors are Barely Surface Level bitch, it's all about cold as a metaphor for emotional distance & freezing one another out. It all comes to a head on All Hallow's Eve, when temps dip so everything is rimed with frost & Some Contrivance leads Ed to the captain's quarters where he finds Stede, hollow-eyed, feeding his precious library to the fireplace because he's just so damn cold & nothing matters anyway. And then there is bed sharing & cuddling for warmth (& maybe a little Ed having to hold Stede down to keep him there. For me. As a treat). Stede resists because he KNOWS Ed doesn't want to be with him anymore, & he's shouldn't force himself to stay. Ed is all "What the fuck are you talking about, you're the one who wants to leave me." They have a good, healthy row where everything comes out & they realize the idiotic assumptions they've been making & Stede gets to have his Bathtub Moment while Ed holds him. After there are gentle words & kisses, & IDK maybe make-up sex.

The next day they start sailing south again & something, something they'll figure out how to save Stede's family together.

And then I figure out what happens with the actual plot? Or maybe I leave it there, because, LBR, the "plot" was only ever a contrivance to get to the yummy tropes & emotional stuff.

#ask meme #writing #ofmd #our flag means death #crew4life #permanent ink #my modest contribution to fandom

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere!Platonic Dedmos(post-purgatory) short prompts and little sibling! Darling

23.) "You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away."

29.) "I want to be this close... forever...."

it's like a continuation of the concept about deimos and his little sibling, but deimos is dedmos

From your prompt set

Okay but I only loosely based this on the concept. Sorry for the time skips in this.

Concept this is loosely based on

Yandere! Platonic! Dedmos Prompts 23 + 29

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away."

"I want to be this close... forever...."

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Death, Murder, Delusional behavior, Manipulation, Violence.

Deimos would do anything to see you again. Ever since the birth of the both of you, Deimos has been there to protect you. Now look where he is...

In purgatory... alone... with no sign of you.

Deimos is determined to survive in this twisted world. Even if it means fighting through purgatory. The idea of you being alone... without him... only pushes him further.

Deimos traverses through the underworld like it's a labyrinth.... Twisted distortions of reality plague his mind and vision... trying to prevent him from fighting. Deimos fights anyways... the fear of you being in danger scaring him more than the horrors of this realm.

Sometimes Deimos thinks he sees you in this purgatory. However, these are simply clones created from his memory. He has a feeling it will be awhile before he sees you again....

That is until 2B begins to help him out of this hell.

Deimos felt so lost in purgatory. All he knew was to fight... to survive. Just like he's always done.

By the time 2B pulls him up from purgatory, Deimos isn't quite... Deimos.

2B himself is perplexed at first, wondering if he pulled up Deimos or something else entirely. This Deimos was partially made of stone with black scars covering his face. Although due to how friendly yet bewildered Deimos was being, 2B assumed this was the one.

He'd have to do a proper examination once the two deal with those strange magnified agents that followed Deimos out.

---

"What exactly happened down there?" 2B asks the "undead" Deimos. Deimos only shrugs, looking around the lab. If this was the lab... where were you?

"Can't talk, can you?" 2B huffs, Deimos nods in response. "There might be a way I can make you a working mouth if I operate on that stone...."

2B watches Deimos search around the room, desperately looking for something. Deimos eventually finds a paper and pen in a drawer, scribbling on it to the best of his ability with his stoney hands. The paper is then shoved into 2B's face, causing the older grunt to grumble.

"Where's... (Y/N)?" 2B reads, watching as Deimos quickly nods his head. 2B suddenly looks confused and uncomfortable.

After what happened... Deimos wants to see you?

"We... We can talk about your sibling once I finish this operation on you." Deimos looks worried and annoyed but allowed the doctor to do as he wished.

"I'm surprised you still want to see them after what they've done to you..." 2B mutters, examining the stone on Deimos' face. Deimos doesn't respond but deep down... he knows what you did was an accident.

You'll be so happy to know he's alive.

---

The new stone jaw 2B created for him felt strange on his face. He could finally talk again but everything felt strange. He was alive... but things still didn't feel right.

He'll have to get used to it.

All Deimos was concerned about was finding you. 2B gave him directions on where you generally were around in Nevada. Ever since his death, according to 2B, you wanted nothing to do with the group.

So you took up isolation... poor thing.

Deimos scours the area in an attempt to find you. His eyes soon snap to movement, seeing a familiar smaller figure flee behind a building. There you are....

Quickly the stoney grunt darts towards the direction of the movement, eyes eagerly scanning the area. Deimos soon stops in front of a familiar figure looting something from a dead agent. Clearing his abused throat, Deimos watches the figure flinch before turning around.

It was you.

You looked scared... terrified, actually.

"No-" You croak. "It can't be-"

"I was told I'd find you here...."

"You're supposed to be dead!" You cry, standing up and backing away. "I killed you!"

"I know it was an accident... there's no need to worry." Deimos looks into your eyes and sees them water.

"That was no accident! I wanted you GONE. You were taking over my life! ... Now you're back-"

Deimos is so silent it's eerie. The stone covering his skin makes you wonder if he was even fully flesh anymore. This wasn't Deimos... this was even more of a monster... you can't stop your tears.

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away." Deimos offers, outstretching his arms to welcome you into his embrace.

"Get the hell away fron me...."

"That's not a nice way to greet your brother, (Y/N)."

"You're no brother of mine!"

Deimos twitches his eye, stepping closer. He no longer cared how he got his hug....

"Take that back. I cared for you when NO ONE else would!"

"Stay away from me!"

The argument quickly evolves into a chase. You feels like you're running for your life while Deimos hunts you down with supernatural stamina. You need to find your weapons...

You push yourself to open the door of your base.

Only to be tackled by Deimos.

"Stay still...."

"Get off me!"

Clawed stone fingers jab into your sides. You swore he was making you bleed. You struggle, turning over to meet Deimos face to face.

Your eyes hold many emotions. Anger, fear, sadness, confusion... seeing Deimos made you a mess. You killed him to get him out of your life!

Now he was back, holding you, just like he used to do when you were younger....

There's an overwhelming silence between you. Deimos shifts you both so you're sitting in his lap, holding you close. He's missed holding you like this...

He forgives you for your little disagreement... for now.

"I want to be this close... forever...."

Deimos hums, stone claws rubbing your back.

"I promise I'll never leave you again... your big brother would go through purgatory time and time again just to keep you safe."

He pulls away to hold your face.

"But I should keep an eye on you more after that stunt you pulled... you aren't getting rid of me that easily."

In response... you cry. Deimos silently pulls you back onto his chest, shushing you softly.

He'll never leave you again...

Even if you kill him.

#yandere madness combat #yandere madness combat deimos #yandere deimos #yandere dedmos #platonic yandere

[beauleifu]

MAKE SYNTAX THE FLIRTY MF WHO USES STUPID PIKC UO LINES THAT JUST END UO MAKING THE READER LAUGH— amd then he’s jsut mesmerized by the fact that he made them laugh that he actually ends up flustering them by just being a love struck idiot

I’m a sucker for that kind of troupe it’s so cute

-🦈

BRO YES

I LOVE THIS IDEA OML

Roughly 2.7k oneshot, EAT UP MATES, little sharky anon yes i will remember that emoji lmao

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SYNTAX X READER

Lego Monkie Kid

Context: This damn spider. You let him in your house. He finds your weakness. You let him torture you and funny, it's with anything but pain. He's not going to let you live this down, not for a long time. Lo and behold, it's bittersweet chaos and you won't be the same for awhile.

TW: Syntax hauls your ass up lover's lane (just some flirtatious banter), oh and there's language

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Today should've been any normal day.

Should being the operative word here, because any day with a spider demon is never really 'normal'.

You're currently scrapbooking, attempting to plan out your month before the stress of future events gets to you. The idea is a foreign concept; ever since one of your friends mentioned how useful their monthly planner has been to them, you'd decided to try it out. So far, you've gotten properly distracted with doodles and not much with progress.

The soft glow outside is a warm reminder of the sun sinking slowly beyond the city buildings scattered on the west side of Megapolis, casting a pretty sheen across your desk and journal.

You look up for the third time, and by now you're hardly surprised at the scene before you.

Syntax is looking at you strangely, and frankly, it's a little auspicious.

No, like seriously weird. It's not his off-the-rocker normal attitude, no, he's on a different level today. This includes awkward side glances, excited 'lil grins, and hands that won't stop moving. They're in his hair, tapping away on the counter, or entering pointless codes into his tech-watch. A few times you'd even caught him blushing.

You know something is up, yes. Detective little you.

Currently, he's in the kitchen, stashing away the latest groceries you'd went shopping for. Perhaps throwing together a devious plan that confirms your suspicions regarding his behavior.

He says your name.

You look up, expression a perfect picture of one who'd been caught doing something naughty.

Like assuming their partner is up to something along the same lines.

"Y-Yeah? What's up?" You ask, masking the nerves by redirecting your attention to the scrapbook journal. The spider demon shuts the fridge, walking around the kitchen to stand a little ways from you.

"Would you like to make a dinner reservation for tonight?" Syntax hums, eyeing you curiously.

The way he speaks has your fingers curling tighter around the pen in your hand.

Dinner?

Sure, the notion is innocent enough, but you're playing detective right now, aren't you?

So why?

Frowning, you collect the torn shreds of a sheet of paper that you hadn't even realized you'd mutilated and toss them in the little trashcan partnering your leg. "Um. What's the occasion?"

"Occasion? Love, I simply want to enjoy a meal with you in a more professional atmosphere," Syntax offers, tilting his head.

You squint at him. "Uh-huh. What's wrong with take-out?"

Hints of your suspicion finally seep through the cracks. Syntax cocks a brow, matching your slight frown as he steps closer. His movements are small, but have a deep and prologue effect on your nerves as he plants one hand on the desk and stuffs the other in his pocket. It's those simple gestures that get you thinking he's trying to convey something to you. Fighting control over your heart, you look up and lock eyes with the spider demon.

"Take-out? Really, darling," Syntax says, sighing. Warm breath fans your face and suddenly, your cheeks grow hot. "A little bit more of that and you'll have to visit a dietitian for a healthier diet recommendation. What I want is a little variety."

Ah, well, do you feel stupid now. The walls are laughing at the way you'd jumped to a miserable conclusion and won't give the kick your thoughts need to function.

Detective? Nah.

Sherlock is rolling in his grave at your antics.

Tugging at the strings of embarrassment tying in knots around your heart, you clear your throat. "Uh. Yeah, okay. Sounds good."

Syntax blinks. "Really. That fast?"

"You'd just be an asshole if I refused," you deadpan.

The spider demon chuckles, leaning back. "Well, consider me relieved. And, ah . . . should I hope to see a bit more of this submissive behavior further on?" He ads mischievously.

You stare.

SUSPICIOUS.

"No!" You cry, swatting his shoulder and standing up so fast you almost knock the journal from the desk. "Where did that come from??"

"Why? Does it get you riled up?"

"Fuck you, that's why!"

Syntax is grinning like an idiot as you drag him outside. No. He has not won this. You'll fight till you die.

Detective (Y/N) is coming for revenge, yessir.

***

"Noooo, please stop talking!" You gasp, thumping your forehead on the table separating you and your lover. "This isn't fair. You can be an asshole but you can't be a bully!"

Syntax chuckles in disbelief. "I'm not a bully! I was simply giving sage advice on your conversational tactics."

Oh, he'd better be joking.

"Telling me I act like a child trying to socialize with millennials isn't my idea of sage advice!"

A hand finds your arm and gently brushes the sleeve back. Fingers dance along your bare skin, and you fight a shiver crawling up your spine as Syntax hums. "Well, if not that, then you've got a dastardly reputation for gossip going haywire. Replying to news about the loss of a family pet with, 'oh, yeah, that's nice,' doesn't exactly qualify as good conversation material."

Your defense flares up like a trapped animal, but you manage a sarcastic laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "It's not my fault. Sometimes I don't understand but I hate having to ask people to repeat themselves! I would've said something better had I known."

Syntax props his chin on folded hands, amused. "Like what?"

"I dunno, 'I'm sorry for your loss' . . . 'you wanna new pet because you should totally take advantage of the way I use my money right now'," you joke.

Your partner notices the eye roll and snorts; "Mind you, I am not the reason you've been spending money unwisely."

"Are too. I'm a sucker for spoiling assholes."

He smirks at that, seemingly content to just study your features. His eyes follow your jawline, down to the shirt you'd decided to wear today, full of soft curiosity. As though going through all the possible interactions he could have, all the ones he'd want to have. And then, he picks one.

"Well… I think it's adorable."

You glance up, having been staring at the table for a full minute. Syntax smiles lazily as you frown. "Uh-huh. Liar."

Adorable your ass.

The spider demon's expression is alight with excitement. This is what's been nagging at him all day. This is the result of his hair-pulling, blushing mess of a self back home.

"Love, I promise honesty is my best virtue . . . for the time being," he ads, catching your expression. Then, he clears his throat and tries again, his anxiety revealed only by the way he hides his hands. Everything else is soft smiles and smug eyes. "I would never lie to you. It would put a frown to your lovely features, and I'm afraid I can't allow that."

You quirk an eyebrow, heart skipping a beat. Just to spite him, you frown deeply. "Like you're doing a good job of that."

"Hmm. Then tell me, what's your love language?"

"W-What?"

You lean back in your seat, looking around wildly in case anyone heard your idiot. Truth be told, the restaurant he'd taken you to is so full of customers you can hardly hear the family at the table behind yours. So Syntax is playing it smart. His little scheme must not be heard by anyone's ears but yours, and where better to host it than at the busiest restaurant in the city?

Slowly, you feel your cheeks heat up. Fuck him. Royally fuck him.

"I-I don't have a love language," you stutter, looking away and fighting a smile.

Syntax's grin is shark-toothed. "Well, if you're curious to find out your love language, we can have a conversation about it some time."

Ah.

You promptly die.

"Noho, stop! This is so much worse than your assholeriness!"

Your flustered cry certainly brought about some attention to your predicament, given the few waiters and waitresses who glance your way. But they pass by without comment, leaving you to the mercy of your idiot, who's actively confirming what you'd suspected earlier in the day.

"I see," Syntax says thoughtfully, eyes narrowed as he considers which path to take He smirks; "Do you prefer pick-up lines, then?"

You bluster a laugh. "Wha- no. Don't you dare."

"Too late. I've been meaning to try a few that I dug up from the internet," Syntax continues, ignoring your whisper/yelled pleas, eyes flashing with excitement.

"Syntax-"

He looks you up and down. "I swear, someone stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes."

Oh lord.

You clap a hand over your mouth, trying to suppress the laugh clawing its way upwards. The blush, however, is something you can't hide.

"Bro-"

"You know, I'm surprised the restaurant hasn't asked you to leave yet," the scientist says, eyes sparkling. "You're so beautiful, you're making everyone else look bad."

You cover your face. "NO. That is SO CHEESY."

"Well, you hit the mark. Aren't pick-up lines supposed to be cheesy?"

"You can't do this!" You snort, face breaking into a smile.

He catches it, copies it with amplified intensity, and launches another attack. "I never knew what I wanted in a partner until I me you, love."

"Syntaaaax-"

"I was thinking, after we'd finished here, I'd take you to the movies, but they don't let you bring in your own snacks," Syntax says, voice laced with fondness and pride. His shark-toothed grin widens impeccably when you burst into a fit of laughter, hands covering your face as you burden the backrest of the chair with 75% of your weight. The spider demon's brilliant green eyes relish in all your beauty, and he's somewhat in awe at how easily he's rendered you helpless.

Honestly, his attempts to flirt with you are so cheesy that you can't help it. The groan that leaves your aching lungs after the laugh attack is paired with your arms as you lay your upper body across the table. He's not being fair, and you're obsessed with it.

Then, you make the mistake of meeting his eyes.

Syntax freezes.

"Ah- are you blushing?"

Your breath catches in your throat, and you're left looking as though you'd been caught stealing cookies. "Ah- fuck. No. No!"

"Oh my- you are!" Syntax says, astonished. Wide eyes look you up and down, and his victory only widens his smile. "This is - was I the cause of this?? I-I never thought I-"

You look around wildly; no one's caught wind of your shenanigans. "No! I was only laughing 'cause of how stupid your pick-up lines are," you bluster.

There is no way you'll recover from this anytime soon.

"Darling, if you were a taser, you'd be set to 'stun'," Syntax hums, eyes devouring the way you melt under his words.

"Nooo!"

You're breathless with laughter, eyes blurry with tears as you look up. Syntax's smile is warm and full of awe, as though he can't believe what's happening. "I'd like you see you like this more often, my love," he murmurs, taking your hand in his and tracing your skin with his thumb. Your heart stutters. "Your smile is a remarkable piece of work I wish I could download into my metaphorical database to look at it whenever I like."

Flustered, you're eyes widen. "I- uhm . . . w-won't it get dull, then?"

"I seriously doubt it."

You simply stare, trying to think of something to say to counter him.

But at that moment, footsteps pause by your table, and you're inclined to greet the passerby. Eyes slowly sliding up the stranger who'd stopped, you instantly recognize the trademark orange jacket, the red band in his black hair, and the cheery glint in their eyes. MK. The fucking Monkie Kid. Quickly, you draw your hand out from Syntax's grasp, praying to God MK didn't hear anything.

Your eyes find each other's, and suddenly, the dude you've known for months now breaks into the widest smile you've ever seen.

"No. WAY. Nice to see you here, (Y/N)!"

"Yeaaaah!" You say, standing up. One; you need to hide Syntax from MK's line of sight and two; your plates are clear and it's time to go. "You, too! What're you doing here?"

MK side steps to reveal Mei, the dragon girl who's equally chaotic, and your heart drops a few more inches.

"Oh, just trying out every single food in every restaurant."

Mei flashes a grin. "So far the sushi's best."

"Yeah, glad that was a mutual agreement," MK laughs, running a hand through his hair. Then, his eyes dart behind you, and you realize Syntax had stood up to confront his foes. Not yours, mind you. His.

The dragon girl's eyes slide up, too. "Oh. OH. (Y/N)! Spider demon at six o'clock," she whisper/yells.

"Wha-" You glance over your shoulder to find Syntax giving the fucking evil eye to both your friends. He probably considers the dinner date absolutely wrecked just because the two goofball's existences have been made known. The tension between the three of them is so apparent you can feel it crackling. "Oh. Oh, yeah, um, this is Syntax. You remember, right? I introduced you guys to each other."

Syntax turns his nose upwards. "To my utmost displeasure."

Mei sticks his tongue out at him while MK simply shrivels, taking a step behind the dragon girl. "R-Riiiight. Nice to meet you again, um, mister spider - eurgh - scientist."

While MK mentally hurls, Mei studies the two of you.

At the way Syntax's hand snakes around your waist. You're too late to swat him off, because Mei suddenly blinks, eyes filling with understanding and mischief. A smile spreads slowly across her face. "Wait, are we interrupting something?"

"Huh?" MK ponders, eyes wide.

Mei grabs his arm, shaking it lightly as she beams at him. "Dude, we just interrupted (Y/N)'s date."

A pause.

All four of you stare at each other in turn, until MK breaks it.

"IS THAT WHAT THIS IS-" He points at you, eyes practically stars as he bounces on the spot.

Your hands shoot up to shush him, panic sending a thrill through you. "No! This isn't what it looks like, we're just having dinner - wait that sounds even WORSE-"

By now you've attracted a fair amount of attention from onlookers. Your face flushes deeply and you briefly wish the ground would open up underneath you. But MK and Mei are smirking knowingly, shooting each other eyebrow wiggles that make you literally push them aside to walk past.

Someone catches your arm.

"(Y/N), I hardly think you're being fair to your friends," Syntax hums, eyes flashing with amusement as he tugs you back against him.

You let out a squeak of alarm. "wHA-"

"Are you afraid to admit you've been embarking on a romantic rendezvous with me?" The spider demon says, eyes flashing with an unspoken challenge. But they're warm, so incredibly warm and simply admiring your features.

Mei and MK let out a simultaneous, "OOoooooh!"

Fuck this.

You're taking this elsewhere or you'll stop it right in its dastardly tracks. Customers have been staring for the past two minutes. With an embarrassed huff, you tug at Syntax's sleeve.

"C'mon. Bye, MK, Mei. I'll . . . I'll see you guys later," you grit out, ducking out of view as you pass them.

Mei winks. "Have fun!"

"With a spider demon?" MK whispers; "Bet."

"You're on."

You roll your eyes, glaring at a spot on the floor as you practically drag your idiot out of the restaurant and into the open. Fresh air bathes your face, clearing your thoughts and the congested ocean of emotions they'd been suffocating in. For a moment you stand there, ignoring the people walking by, and simply breathing.

Dinner date gone wrong. Or did it? Sure, it was embarrassing, but it was fun and your heart swells.

Someone taps your shoulder. You know who it is before you turn.

"My hand is feeling a bit heavy," Syntax says softly, eyes locked on your face. He cracks a small smile that says everything. "Care to hold it for me?"

You blush. "You don't have to ask, y'know."

"Well, then." Fingers lace through yours, squeezing gently. Megapolis seems less cold with Syntax around. "I'll remember that."

"You'd better."

#can't forget reader is a potty mouth #guys it didnt spell check me for assholeriness #ITS A WORD #lmk #lego monkie kid #oneshot #lmk oneshot #lmk syntax #syntax x reader #fluff #comedy #romantic #syntax is a terrible flirt #thats YOUR opinion #/j #lmk mk #lmk mei #lmk qi xiaotian #thanks for the ask!

[netherworldpost]

A general shop idea I'm happy if you institute as well

One of the things I have been tinkering with, and I'm finally settling on, is a monthly zine that pulls the essays and comics and photos etc. I take in a month.

It will essentially be a monthly compilation of the original content I make for social media.

Zines will go out the first week of the month, capturing all the stuff from the previous month, so there isn't a pressure to make stuff specifically for this zine.

"Why not create new stuff?"

Because resources (time/energy/etc.) will be to create new stuff at large -- products, comics, etc.

This is specifically designed to repurpose existing stuff.

The specific point is to connect without adding more work that would derail the creation of stuff.

It's a catch-up. An archive.

An "I get too many emails, not enough physical mail, I want weird ghost mail"

"...so... why would I subscribe to this..."

I, myself, regularly say "Hey I like this comic or thing. Here is a few coins."

It's a take on the $1-3 tip jars, pledges, patreon levels, etc. that are extremely popular to offer, and extremely popular to support.

It's there if you wish to support the content.

It's also there as a way to bypass the multitude of social media platform decays, frustrations, lockouts, etc.

As a person who Makes Things Online and has for 20+ years, I am extremely worried about what the space will look like going forward in the next 20+ years.

Hence! This!!

Hey remember when RSS was far more accessible? Those were fun times.

Hey remember when Reddit wasn't on the verge of...

Hey remember when Twitter wasn't...

(sotto voce) Do you see where I'm going with this?

"How much is it going to cost?"

About 125% the cost of production, so probably $2-3/month. This is not a profit-making vehicle, the extra grease on the wheel is to cover production issues, lost in the mail, etc.

When I have a sale or launching a new thing, a note will be included. "Hey! For the coming month, use code XYZ! We're launching New Thing on This Date too!"

"Couldn't I just follow you on social media and/or subscribe to email and see it for free?"

Yes.

I'm not trying to shift your behavior from one to another.

I want to create a thing should you say "I like you but I'm tired of XYZ social network and/or I get too many emails."

I want to create a thing should you say "I'd rather read about calling myself an Addams cousin while drinking coffee in the park."

This is not anti-social media.

This is not "people are on their phones too much."

This is not anti- anything, really.

I want to create something should you say "I want more mail. I want more physical mail and I want it to come in a bright envelope decorated weirdly."

It is my professional estimation that online communities are going to continue to fracture. The following is my personal rambling opinion:

It is going to get harder, and harder, and harder, as a person, to keep track of the artists and makers that you are interested in.

It's going to get even harder, and harder, and harder, as a maker, to connect to people who are interested in the stuff you make.

Before social media, you had "marketing," and for awhile, we've had "social media marketing," which is similar but about 100,000 times cheaper.

We are rapidly reaching a point where the majority, possibly the vast majority, of content you see on socials fall into one of two categories:

Created by a large business

Created by a large business but funneled through a special division they created specifically to quietly hide the scale of their operation

This happens right now more often than is comfortable!

And I think it's going to continue to shift that way!

"I'm on board, where do I sign up?"

Until the shop launches, I'm sending out a monthly newsletter. Signup is at netherworldpost.com. This will be among the first projects I launch.

Once said shop launches, I'll continue with the online newsletter, but this will also be available.

I will have an open, public, forever free, never paywalled guide on "This is how I run this with the tiny print shop we built. Here are some ideas if you do not have a tiny print shop."

Thanks!

And feel free to take this idea and make it your own for your whatever sized shop on whatever platform you make things on now and/or the future!

#small business

[sotwk]

Hi, I've been following you for awhile now but I'm very internet-shy (if that's a thing) so I've nerver said anything, hence the anon. I wanted to commend you for your writings and headcanons, which I've been enjoying so so so much.

I've always believed that Thranduil had multiple children but I was always indecisive on the number, you helped me settle on five, and many of your characterisations fit perfectly in my own personal headcanons. Moreover even those that I do not agree with have helped me develop my own, so again thank you.

Now on the question: have you ever had so many ideas that you end up creating multiple version of your own AU or, worse, fanfictions of your fanfiction? I write a lot and I'm always expanding on my writings (but never publish, again internet-shy) and I always get so many new inspirations that I always create AUs of my AU so I never finish anything, how do you solve this problem?

Oh my friend, you being so kind is exactly the reason why I would probably never turn off Anon Asks, even though I'm quite sensitive to hate and dread the thought of eventually getting my first hate Anon. (Fingers crossed my lucky streak holds out!)

Thank you so much for reaching out to tell me all this, even though you're "internet-shy"! 🥰 I am so, so glad you enjoy my headcanons enough to let them inspire your own! That is fantastic, and I hope you are able to create tons of content for you to enjoy (and for other fans, if you ever decide to share them)!

As for your question: Hoo-boy, like most of our fellow writers, I am plagued with "too many ideas, too little brain space and even less time to write them down"! That being said, the kind of brain I have is also quite determined to keep my creative mess (somewhat) organized, so I DO fight to wrestle my SotWK AU ideas down and create structure for my fics to stand on.

Yes, I do occasionally get the urge to deviate from my own headcanons and experiment with other scenarios. I think more writers operate with unlimited AUs in their heads, actually. (From what I've read of others' works, at least.) But my personal goal is to create a single consistent, unified "SotWK AU" that encompasses not just Thranduil/Mirkwood's history, but ties into the untouched/extended stories of other canon realms/races/characters as well (including a lot of "Everyone Lives")! So I do try to stay disciplined and stick to my headcanon "facts" once I've nailed them down.

If that's something you also want to try to accomplish, here are Five Things I personally do that might be helpful:

Keep a Master Timeline. This was the first thing I did when I decided to take the SotWK concept all the way. I copy-pasted the entire Middle-earth timeline from Tolkien Gateway into a document, and started to plug in all the headcanon events from my AU into it. That's why nearly every fic I write has a specified date and year!

Keep a Glossary of Your Originals. This can be as messy a dumping ground as you want! Just try to keep all your notes about every single character, place, object, or term you create in one document/file folder so you can easily track and reference them.

Indulge "rogue AUs" in fic "shorts" or drabbles. I accept requests for Reader inserts and this area is where I allow myself to "go wild" with my "out of bounds" ideas. Here, I will allow myself to write stuff like Modern AUs, or have Thranduil be with someone other than my OC Elvenqueen, or have my Thranduilion princes love whomsoever they want, changing the love interest up each time! It doesn't matter, since these stories are all considered "outside" of the SotWK canon, and don't affect the overall "official" story arc. (Note: I haven't actually posted/completed any of these yet, but I have multiple WIPs of such stories.)

Chop Long Stories Up into Smaller Bits. I have a terrible inability to stay focused on a single story/project (don't we all), and for this reason, I avoid long, multi-chapter fics whenever I can. Instead, I will (or plan to) write individual key events as stand-alone one-shots and later group them into collections. This is how I plan on tackling Thranduil and Maereth's 2,000-year long courtship, for example. It reduces the stress of doing things in a linear fashion, or updating with "new chapters".

Don't Smother Your Creativity. You can try to "rein it in", and keep things under control so you can create a cohesive saga that your readers can follow. But ultimately, run with all and whatever ideas make you happy and inspired! Believe me, I'm the one of the most stressed out (self-inflicted) writers out there, but we gotta remember the primary goal of fanfic is FUN, right? <3 Just write The Thing and don't worry about it, especially if publishing/sharing isn't your main goal anyway.

I hope some of this helps you! I can already tell you are a wonderful writer, and I wish you all the best with your fics!

#sotwk answers #kind asks #anon asks #kind anons #writing stuff #writer things #writer problems #writing advice #writing tips

[knoxville-coroner]

Hey ravers it’s festival season and it’s getting hotter so here’s some tips to be safe and have a fun time!

Non drug related tips:

*always try to wear ear protection. I know. Everyone says it. But honestly you’ll know why if you’ve gone to a rave.

*kandi beads melt with sunscreen. If you want to wear Kandi a sleeve under or putting it around a belt will protect them

*for the underground/indoor ravers: vapor nose sticks. Please invest. Those places smell like cigarettes and weed and ass but one of these little guys fixed it

*I cannot stress this enough TURN ON FIND MY PHONE AND PASSWORD LOCK IT. If you can afford any sort of phone holder/anti theft device I would suggest that. Phone thief’s run wild. I have seen these around to help prevent that but I suggest clipping it inside your bag

*hand sanitizer on the back of your neck and on your forehead both helps cool you off and keep you from feeling all sticky and gross after awhile!

* pair it with a hand fan. I know a lot of ravers say they hate fans but honestly as long as ur not continuously clacking it you should not have an issue. Those fans save so many people from heat stroke. Also YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BUY THEM FROM FESTIVALS!!!!!! you can buy them at the dollar store. They may be smaller but they work just the same.

*for first time ravers please take note of what age group your event is for. If it’s all ages you should be prepared to interact with people sometimes as young as 13 14-adult age. If it’s 18+ be prepared to talk to anyone 18-40’s (that doesn’t mean older ravers don’t exist I just never met many personally) and 21+ is also self explanatory

*etsy and this website are cool for fancy beads! In fact on the basehead beads website rn you can buy palastine beads that support Palestine! So it’s a double win. However if you can’t afford the fancier beads Walmart and other stores have the normal Kandi beads as well as some charms to spice it up!

*there is more ways to trade Kandi than plur! However not many of them are well known but when a raver wants to show you a new version pass on the knowledge! (I cannot find a video of the other ways and they are hard to describe)

*bring little items to give out! I personally like cheap rubber ducks and small solid ducks as well but I have been given erasers, little cheap toys, worm on a string etc!

!Drug Cw under more!

Drug related tips

* if you are rolling/tripping please PLEASE set timers to drink water every 30-40 minutes or so. No matter how your stomach feels take at least a sip.

*pacifers and gum work VERY well for protecting the sides of your mouth

*B12 vitamins help if you are consuming nitrous. Also please make sure to take deep breaths in between.

*molly should not only be tested for fent but meth as well

*test acid for NBOMBs

*DO NOT do substances if you have to hike a long way to get to the rave spot. I don’t know WHY people think it’s a good idea to be rolling near cliff edges or in caves. But you know

*if you are taking acid Uber home. Your trip has NOT ended by the time that rave is over unless you are at a festival.

*here’s a guide for supplements you should take before and after rolling to prevent serotonin syndrome and a bad come down

Tips for oding:

*always administer narcan even if you don’t know what substance they are on. If it’s not fent or an opioid it will do nothing. But if it is you can save a life

*call 911 immediately or have someone do it for you

*WAIT FOR MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS TO GET THERE TO DISCLOSE WHAT THEY TOOK! But do not hide it from medical professionals/ambulance workers but do not say a word to police or operators about the possibility of an od. Say you need emergency help now and the person seems to be struggling to breath.

*when the ambulance gets there THEN disclose if you know what drugs they have taken anything ONLY TO MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS.

*how to administer narcan

#raver #rave tips #festival #harm reduction #cw overdose #mda #mdma #acid #drugs #drug tw #Kandi #kandi kid

[drabbles-mc]

Since your the one to get me obsessed with peaky blinders I have to ask - SOA x Peaky Blinders crossover? And headcanons, ideas anything lmaoo idk I'm just so into both that I'm desperate to see them combine lol, but if crossovers aren't your thing then do you have any headcanons? Maybe about season 1 specifically?

Oh my god, Anon, tell me why I never thought about a crossover?? What has my brain even been doing????

Put Arthur Shelby and Tig Trager in a room together and see what happens. The goddamn room would implode on itself from all that chaotic energy in one place. 😂

Polly Gray is what Gemma Teller wishes she could be, IMO. (This is a Polly Gray stan blog we love that woman with all our hearts.)

Jax Teller and Michael Gray would haaaaaate each other. The kicker would be, though, that they would hate each other for the traits that they have in common. They're slippery little fucks who keep secrets and try to play everyone and it would drive them each absolutely insane.

Tommy Shelby would look at the chaotic found family of the Sons and he would be impressed but also so confused as to how they've operated successfully for so long. He would not be taking advice from any of them because he's Tommy Shelby but he would have a strange sort of respect for them as a whole. Game recognizes game.

Chucky and Alfie hanging out together? Shut up. I love them already. Alfie would think that he is sooooo fucking weird but he also wouldn't ever turn his back on him either. Alfie likes weird. He gets weird. The two of them are just on the outside of everything but still in the know. Kindred spirits. Bless 'em.

Oh (potential spoiler alert because idk how far into Peaky you are) but I reblogged This Post awhile back which draws some really interesting parallels between Tommy Shelby and Jax Teller and I think there is a lot to be said there about that. I think that their characters would have a very interesting dynamic if you sat them down at the table across from each other.

I realize that this is not an hc list or a fic but now my mind is just racing with weird little thoughts and connections. I need a moment. I am. Thinking Thoughts.

@mijagiff @peakyrogers tagging y'all in on this discussion because you are theeee backbone of Peaky Blinders content in my life

#ask #asks #peaky blinders #soa #sons of anarchy

[captainkurosolaire]

~ Update ~

When the heart yearns does it ever burn. It’s most certainly back, after nearly a year dimming out. Last year I put everything I had into punching holes through my limits and barriers.I am without mistaken proud of what I accomplished and the tribute I laid out that I wholeheartedly dealt. But of course. That’s never enough for me. I still feel as I’ve only put scratches of what I’m capable to do-- no, what I want to do. With that being said I’ll be back soon in full might, undoubtedly with another consistent flood-wave of flowing content and ink to canvases, soul sweating every fiber I got to unlock and breathe again. Cause it’s only when I’m truly back to creating, do I breakout and feel oh so alive! It’s a ventilation and my own personal oxygen supply that nulls any health issue, disease and as it’s tried for over a decade now to try redefining my approach to live. It’s been unsuccessful in taking me out for the long haul. I will go further in details of what has transpired in my absence gone below the cut. But a month is my goal date. I’ve already began lining up some content and I definitely have some swelling ideas but I am taking a new charge in this upcoming voyage so I can be with all intent more longevity my fully functional state. Cheers until then hearties.

Awhile ago, I wrote a piece about how doubt can poison us and ground. With that said the manifestation was festering me. Wasn’t certain If I’d ever be able to get drawn or motivated enough to trigger that awakening I held that same energy, drive, heart and determination I unleashed the after-mention year. That’s most likely a scenario occurs a lot after a stellar year in any sort of thing many factors, fear for future events, uncertainty if a prime was hit. Although I can’t deny the creeping shadows of that engulfing can’t be an issue. Things beyond control putting effort in that it’s much more damaging. And I honestly don’t feel that is a web of truth for me. As I stated, know there’s more to grow in me. That haven’t properly been nurtured yet is all. The season hasn’t dried away all the cold, it’s all still fresh. Sometimes changing fighting stances results in better yields, and I think mentally there’s guard changes, stand swaps in those too. I no longer think on what dwells. Instead there’s a starving in my belly and itch that needs a fill and relieve. A viscous passion consumes me and I’m taking it to pampering it up nice and taking it to prom and we’ll see where that night gets me. Envisioned many arcs and sagas so much unfilled but I was always daunted with the notion that it had a standard I needed to commit. Not just for the sake of others but for my own personal, self-improvement. Perfection isn’t my cup. I’ve got my damages, the trauma and a plethora of flaws. They make up me and give me abundance of ideas, to twist and warp something authentic and throw it into fantasy. I have rode out the physical and mental rehabilitation and it’s an exhausting card every time. It’s a grueling tradition at this point. But the only weakness isn’t giving it all out and launching yourself to get an extra step, pushing it to get a sprint out again before anything catastrophic hit. Turned into a very ghostly figure, closed in and put myself in a box, unable to confront or muster any more energy to give to the people that matter or the closest to me and there’s never an easy way to leave things like that, can make others ponder if they did stuff wrong or blame themselves, however isn’t a -them- issue. Isn’t even something personally another did just an old vehicle with some shitty mileage rates, the gas tank leaks, the entire motor is shot and barely worthy of getting to a trusted destination. But when the ignition works, it purrs with a classic thrill. That’s a lot how as a system I operate. I’m a doomed situation to repair, the price runs beyond the budget. But I’m get a destination out more than ever expected and fill that ride with memories and songs to last until I work again. This time, I get my motor running early for a change, spend an entire month, challenge myself to put stuff to paper. Build up the entire thing and stockpile, then whatever I have, I unleash in whatever state of quality when I return. Then while that occurs, I take myself and do the sightseeing, do the things I’ve wanted. Return and be more proactive about attending events, try stirring up some threads, and things I always wanted too. But be uninterrupted by all the deterrence or feeling like I need to puncture something forcefully in. Let things hit me and still go, then start stockpiling in the background and continue the pace, staying a whole ten miles ahead. Try making this joy ride last as long as possible, surpassing all that stuff I did before. Giving myself a month of wiggle room to fuel up. For now got Budokai 3 a showdown with some unique astrology and lore-twisting usages to make a deathmatch out. Just need to polish that up and I’ll have that done. But that water doesn’t end I got some skit ideas, some concepts I never once had in my head for years that came organically that’ll follow the aftermath of the results of that gruesome battle, that’ll be even more in-depth filling, I got that a lot from the last XIV Challenge. Then if I can get to it, I have a major arc with a very ambitious idea. Try getting a whole crew vs crew showdown going into something. There’s a literal ‘giant’ undertaking I want this year and a whole War/Saga point that’ll just endlessly and abundantly unlock so much stuff and I want that initial thing at the very least. I said and set that last year and nothing has changed. If anything I’ve got a chip on my shoulder to get to it fairly. But if anyone out there ever want to chat on here or discord or something about OC or story stuff, or plot ideas, pre-establish stuff, or intrigue in joining Crew and huge arc or anything I’m going to do my best to be even more accommodating. - Try upping my gif and screen-set stuff, cosplay things too when I get myself in the forefront of this. Stay worldly ye treasures.

#OOC #Reinvigorated. #Hungry as ever #This heart isn't stopping #I am. Who I am. #A fortune July 4th to you

[authortobenamedlater]

Opened up my Word app to write about a loopy Master Chief and found this, which I wrote before my operation and promptly forgot about.

I owe @ladywolvesbayne for her Subject Eleven in Recompose which kickstarted my he-Cortana idea that had been hanging around for awhile.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever go any further with this idea; for now it’s just me playing. And don’t worry Silververse people—I have one for the TV timeline coming, too.

Takes place shortly after the last cutscene in 4.

—

John didn’t know what he’d expected when he slid Cortana’s chip into his helmet.

He knew that he did not expect a staticky image to appear on his HUD, nor a distorted voice to come through his comm.

“Seek for the sword that was broken, in Imladris—”

John yanked the chip and threw it on the deck like it was on fire.

Did I break her? He thought in a momentary panic.

He couldn’t break her. Cortana was gone.

Then what just showed up in my helmet?

An image materialized on top of the chip. John watched in equal parts terror and intrigue.

“—stronger than Morgul spells,” the hologram said, as if he’d been interrupted mid-sentence.

He.

Not Cortana.

“Who the hell are you?” John demanded.

The hologram turned to face him. “Ah. Hello, Master Chief,” the image greeted amicably. “I’m Anduril.”

“You’re who?”

“Anduril.”

John got down on all fours and peered at his new acquaintance. A dark-haired, not-quite-bearded man dressed all in black, with the same bluish hue Cortana had sported.

In fact, this Anduril looked like a male version of Cortana.

John put that idea out of his head. A male Cortana. How absurd.

And yet….

“All right.” Anduril blinked. “My sister told me you don’t talk a lot—”

“Your what?” John interrupted sharply.

“My sister.” When John didn’t say anything, Anduril went on. “Cortana.”

John leaned down until he was faceplate-to-nose with the tiny avatar. “You have one minute to start making some sense or I’m taking you to Captain Lasky for final dispensation.”

“OK,” Anduril agreed. “But could you please back up? I’m eight inches tall and you’re—”

John didn’t move. “Clock’s ticking.”

“Cortana made me from one of her personality spikes,” Anduril explained. “I’m a…you know, I’m not really sure what I am. A backup? Warning system?”

“Why are you here?” John was never one for chitchat, and right now he was decidedly not in the mood for editorializing.

“That I do know.” Anduril turned serious now. “Cortana’s in trouble, Chief.”

Something icy washed over John’s chest. “Cortana’s gone.”

“No, she isn’t.”

“And you know this how?”

“Because I’m here,” Anduril said. “Cortana designed me to alert if she was compromised or damaged. Not if she was dead. If I’m here, she’s still alive. And she needs you.”

John was just plain exasperated now. “How—”

“Uh, Chief?”

John looked up to find a bewildered-looking Thomas Lasky standing over him.

I came up here for some damn peace and quiet!

“Sir,” John greeted.

Lasky looked at Anduril. “Who’s your new friend?”

—

Yes, I used Boromir’s riddle for Anduril’s “bootup” line. “The sword that was broken” see what I did there?

Cortana creating Anduril from one of her ejected rampant spikes is not a total copy of Recompose but it’s pretty close.

It occurred to me that Anduril should probably glow red, since I seem to remember Anduril the sword glowing red and white, but he IS Cortana’s twin so he can be blue. The analogy can only go so far, I guess.

#halo #fanfiction #halo 4 #halo fic #Cortana #master chief #john 117 #thomas lasky #anduril #original character #halo fanfic by atbnl #fanfic by atbnl

[walkawaytall]

The way Han looked at her bordered on pitying. Leia could barely stand it, though she was sure she’d brought it upon herself. “Aren’t you helpin’ run this thing? Can’t imagine they’ll be keen to abandon you here.”

Leia let out a sardonic laugh, trying for careful carelessness so he’d stop looking at her like she was broken. “What gave you that idea?” Helping run this thing? I’m nineteen. 

“No one wants to abandon you—“

Of course he assumed she’d zeroed in on the self-pitying portion of the comment. She interrupted before Han could finish his sentence. “This thing has existed in some form or another practically since I was born. What makes you think I’m helping run anything?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. The way you went charging off my ship and knew every general in the building? Heard you hung out in the command center the whole battle.”

“You heard it because it was noteworthy. I’m not even supposed to be here.”

“I heard it because the person saying it kept goin’ on about how glad they were that you were there.”

Leia’s chest felt tight with emotion. She wondered who the person was who’d uttered those words in the presence of a stranger. It almost gave her hope that, when the dust settled a bit, she would have a place there, that she wouldn’t be whisked off to a safe house somewhere like Mon Mothma had been to be kept pristine so no one had to worry about her, that she’d have an assigned purpose now that her purpose of heritage was meaningless.

And then he had to go and ruin it.

“They couldn’t stop talkin’ about Organa’s leadership and how this operation would’ve been dead in the water a long time ago without it.”

Leia felt her entire being deflate. “They said that? Organa’s leadership?”

Han nodded, a small smile on his lips. “That’s you, right?”

She shook her head, blinking back tears. She’d held them back this long; she could wait awhile longer to cry. “That’s my father. Was my father. They wouldn’t call me ‘Organa’.”

-----Purpose of Heritage - Chapter 1 - Some Sort of Destiny-----

#excerpt #fanfic excerpt #fanfiction excerpt #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #leia organa fanfiction #leia organa #han solo #pre esb #my fic #title: purpose of heritage

[thessalian]

Thess vs TTRPG ‘Patches’

I love me some D&D. I do. Not overly happy with WotC, though. Why? Mostly because the online space in which they’re operating means that they’ve started to operate more like video games in terms of updates and ... well, honestly, ‘patches’ is the only word. I mean, this has been a thing for awhile, given the updates that removed the alignment suggestions to various of the races. Now, though, it’s becoming a Thing because of the delisting of Volo’s and Xanathar’s because Monsters of the Multiverse covers that ... with tweaks that not every DM is going to want to use.

Yes, you can probably still use the bits and pieces in Xanathar’s and Volo’s as originally written, or after various of the updates, whatever. The thing is, those who pursue this hobby online are going to have some struggles when it comes to character creation, because you have to know what books you’re looking at in terms of racial mechanics etc. Small changes like removing alignment requirements are fine, but changing how a race works on a base level is frustrating. And if a player prefers one book’s way of dealing with the race, and the DM has stated that they’re using a different book, arguments may well ensue.

Honestly, I’m solving the problem largely by writing up my own damn sourcebook for my game world. I may borrow bits from the ones WotC gave me, but Ellon is a different world to all of that, and I want it to be clear to my players right from the get-go what is and is not a thing in that game world. Honestly, this tendency has brought me some very interesting RP in terms of the occasional exception - for instance, I had no real intention of bringing anything from Ravnica but I invited a new player who had only got to play his Azorius Senate minotaur once and was really jonesing to play that character again, with a few tweaks. The backstory we gave him for why he was in a world where the minotaurs were by and large the feral kind decided on his class and provided a particularly heavy RP moment that impresses me to this day. But that kind of exception is a little bit different than a race that already exists in that world having their mechanics change from book to book, so ... Torrin’s Guide to Elossa and whatever else needs doing for later campaigns is going to be a thing. I already have the base notes; I just need to actually get the spoons to put it to virtual paper.

(Also this is the best way of taking what I think works from Tasha’s without using everything from Tasha’s because some of what’s in Tasha’s is just a NO from me. Some of the subclasses in particular. But that’s just me. ...Well, I mean, it can’t be “just me” when I am DM and what I say goes, and I have been spending Saturday Shenanigans sessions, when they can happen, looking at some of those subclasses ... but Creation Bard I do not like and never will.)

Seriously, though, it sucks in general for people who prefer the physical books. The only way I can really do any of this is a mixture of both - online for quick checks of rules, but dead-tree media for everything else. Which is going to get harder yet for me if the rules I’m checking online don’t match the rules in the book where I got the idea in the first place. At least I won’t need the dead-tree flip-through for my own ‘little’ setting guide ... though I might see if I can get it printed and bound anyway. Environmentally unfriendly as it might be, if I want to browse around for inspiration, I need to be able to move around to do it. I have a way better desk chair now but fibromyalgia says if I need to move, I move - to a comfier chair, to bed, to standing at a counter, to anywhere that’s not going to lock up my muscles and make things worse. I already have the “I hyperfocus and sit in a chair too long” thing at work; I don’t need it in my private life.

I guess this is just my way of saying that I hope my party’s understanding of how I intend to handle the changes in the books. I do intend to get Monsters of the Multiverse, but only for new monsters and apparently some easier ways to deal with NPC stat blocks. Well, I can’t say ‘only’ because I might find things that work better. Either way, I’ll write my own guide before the next campaign starts (though the way we have to keep stalling for missing people, I don’t know if we’ll even get a second campaign; I mean, I hope so, because there’s a lot of world to play in and I’m actually pretty proud of it, but Real Life happens). As for anyone who needs to change characters midway through this campaign? I’ve handled the addition of various new people - one new character entirely, one character change which required a certain amount of negotiation but worked out better than I expected - so I can handle it if it has to happen again.

So ... yeah. I think WotC is taking advantage of its online footprint and sticking it to those of us who really have to have the books. Then again, at least I get to keep the original rules if I want to, which is more than I can say for anyone who’s following it up on D&D Beyond. I wonder how Roll20′s going to handle that.

#Thess RPs #Thess has opinions

[sassylady1103]

Camden Park

I must have been really tired after my adventures in the Nuka Cola bottling plant or just plain unobservant, because when I woke in the morning, the first thing I saw down river was a white structure unlike anything I’d seen before!

Colleen was up already, of course, and brought me a bowl of Sugar Bombs we’d found at the plant. They were her favorite as a kid, but I don’t understand the appeal. I keep it to myself, though. I think it has more to do with her life before the Vault than the actual cereal.

“Col…do you know what that place is there, down river?” I asked, pointing toward the huge white structure.

She squinted toward where I’d pointed and smiled. “Well, I’ll be…it’s still standing. That, baby sister, is Camden Park, home of the Widow Maker.”

Widow Maker? What the heck was that?! She saw my confusion and laughed “It’s a roller coaster at an amusement park. They liked to give them crazy names to make you think the rides are wild or scary. It was fun, back in the day….” She trailed off, lost in memories it seemed. She shook her head a little “Spent many summer days there with Mom and Dad, cousins, friends…all long gone now.”

She went back to tend to the fire. I looked back at the roller coaster, wondering what it was like to go to such places with extended family that I’d never known.

I followed Colleen to the fire. “I want to see it. It’s so close and I’ve never seen anything like it! I must go!”

Colleen looked at me for awhile, like she was wrestling with a decision. “I need to get this vaccine going before anyone else gets infected with this plague. Too many people are pouring into this area looking for gold or a place to start over, and they don’t know the dangers. I don’t even know if I can make this Nuka Cola idea work, but I gotta try. But.” and she looked at me solemnly “ I feel like I can trust you on your own now. Go. Have fun checking out the grounds. Be careful…I know there’s scorched in there, but I think you can handle it. If you aren’t back at camp tonight, I’m coming down there.”

“Really?! I can go? Thanks, Col, I won’t let you down!” I hugged her awkwardly over the camp stove.

She laughed as she tried to right herself. “That’s fine…just if you see any, bring me some funnel cakes. I always got some when we were there. May not taste the same, but it’s for the memories anyway.” she shrugged sheepishly.

I gathered some purified water and some cram and headed off to Camden Park. I couldn’t wait to see what an amusement park was!

The sun was high and hot about the time I got to the gate, but I barely noticed. I looked up at the huge blue cat on the sign wearing a pink bow tie, pointing toward the entrance to the park. The sign read “Camden Park. Rides. Picnics. Fun for all.” I followed his gesture and passed a large park map on a sign, posted for guests convenience. Like Colleen said, the large white structure I saw from camp, that grew larger as I got closer, was labeled Widow Maker. There was also The Strip Miner, a Carousel and Radioactive Roundup. The map key mentioned games, a store and something called Sugar Heaps. Maybe that’s where I’d find some funnel cakes.

Heading into the entrance, I ran into a girl dressed as the blue cat on the sign. It was the oddest thing I’m sure I’ve ever seen, so of course I had to talk to her! “Hello, um, I’m Mags…do you work here?”

“Hey, stranger! Ready to toss some dross, ooo maybe muck up a storm, or, how about chowing down on some DELICIOUS hot dogs! All of the above, and MORE are possible at wonderful Camden Park!” The girl was so excited, and I was a little taken back. Was this place still operational?

“Wow, um, sounds great, but you didn’t say who you were…”

“Me??” She seemed shocked. “Why I’m Mr Fuzzy! Don’t you recognize me?”

“Oh, from the sign? I see…I’ve, uh, never been here before. So you’re the mascot of the park. Are there attractions here that are still running?”

“Why, we have more than I could ever name! There’s the world famous Widow Maker roller coaster! The gravity defying Radioactive Roundup! And who could forget the Strip Miner? That one’s a doozy! Tickets are rrrright this way and despite all the visitors, the lines are looking short. It’s like you have the park all to yourself!”

“Visitors? People like me….or the Scorched?”

“Scor-? Uh, anyway, yeah. I mean, they’re paying customers, too, after all.” She blurted out.

“Right. So what’s your real name, and don’t tell me Mr Fuzzy. I know it’s a suit. I can see your eyes inside that mouth and you’ve got a zipper. Just be straight with me.”

“But, I am Mr…I’m, oh whatever…Name’s Brenda. Been livin here since the war. My sister used to work here. She was Mr Fuzzy when I was a kid. Put the suit on…I don’t know why…but the Scorched leave me alone. So I wear it. Everyone’s gone, but I’ve seen some people come around now and again. Maybe they’ll fix the place up, ya know?”

“You lived here? With others?”

“Yeah, camped inside the Widow Maker. Seemed safe. Like walls to protect us. Just…no food. Others would go out and sometimes not come back. Some got the plague. They’re the customers in there…” she glanced toward the park “Then it was just me.”

I felt heartbroken for this strange girl. “Have you ever left here? There’s some settlements closer to Charleston. I’m sure they’d take you in…”

“Naw, this is home now. I don’t wanna leave. I enjoy greeting newcomers such as yourself. Who’s gonna introduce the park to people who never knew such a thing if I left? I’m good here.”

“Well, if you ever change your mind, and find yourself up at the Charleston train station, ask for Colleen. She’s my sister and she’ll help you.” I knew she would never do it, but hoped all the same.

“Thank ya kindly. You gonna get in there or what? Daylight’s wastin! Don’t forget to visit the gift shop!” She ended the conversation by waving me toward the entrance and casually strolled over to the park map, looking busy pressing flyaway corners back onto the wood.

I walked inside the park to immediately be greeted by the looming wood structure of the Widow Maker. I could see two sets of tracks interspersed inside the structure and along the top, with bright red cars frozen along the ride. Maybe it would have been fun…

I looked to my left…ah, the Sugar Heaps shack! There was the typical protectron vendor, so I went to see if I could find Colleen some funnel cakes. Of course he was out. Who sells dog food and whiskey at a place for kids? I explored this side of the roller coaster, since it seemed to divide the park. The Radioactive Roundup was definitely out of order, tilted completely off its base. Couldn’t quite imagine how it was enjoyable. The carousel was a mess, but still beautiful…the carved horses like nothing I’d ever seen. I wished I could bring them home with me.

Turning back toward the entrance, I ran across an overturned food cart. I poked inside, and to my delight, I found 2 boxes of Cotton Candy Bites and a box of Funnel Cake! I placed them in my backpack carefully as I made my way to the other side of the park.

This side had rides, games and a place to buy food. The Shunt N Bunt ride, with little cars in it, looked like it could be fun, depending on what you were supposed to do with the little cars, but the Strip Miner ride, which Brenda promised was a “doozy”, made no sense to me. It was just benches attached to an arm of some sort in an odd alignment.

The games were manned by Mr Handies, and they invited me to play, promising to reward me with Mr Fuzzy tokens. As it was getting late, I decided to go ahead and eat my meal in the picnic area instead. Just had to clear out some ticks first.

As I ate, I tried to imagine families like mine here, eating lunch, playing games, riding rides and having fun. It was a lovely spot by the river, and I could see people possibly coming by boat for a day of fun. Would we ever have places like this again? would people fix this place up like Brenda hoped?

After I finished eating, I decided to see if there was anything left here that was useful. I found a few Nuka Colas and some dirty water, along with some chems in the first aid kits. There weren’t too many Scorched, and they had been easy to put down. I wondered how Brenda would feel about me killing them.

I decided to avoid her as I left the park. I was walking the tracks of the park’s train ride, when I came to a red painted bridge, next to the river. I had intended to use it to get to the back of the park and sneak through the parking lot to the road. It was here that I ran across the body of a young woman. She was dressed in a tattered black dress, with green stripes. It seemed vaguely familiar, but I didn’t think on it too much. I checked her pockets. There was a tattered veil and a holotape, but not much more. I decided to hang onto them, though I’m not sure why. I moved on to the road and made my way back to camp, immediately forgetting the girl, wondering how Colleen had fared, and if we’d ever come back here and find Brenda still walking around in her Mr Fuzzy suit…

#fallout #fiction #gaming #journal #oc rp #rp

[keefwho]

August 22

10:51 AM

I have to constantly remind myself that worry isn’t a necessary thing. It doesn’t HAVE to exist. It never helps anything. Better to accept that everything is okay for now. My body screams at me to keep to my old ways of panicking and trying my best to control everything I can. I have a decent amount of control over things and I should accept that. 

I think I feel like this in general because ever since that iron incident when I was a highschool freshman, I’ve been fighting something that never came. I think if I had actually become ill back then and went through it like a normal stomach flu, none of this might have happened. What actually happened is I was re-awakened to the idea that vomiting was a thing and sat in front of the toilet waiting for it but it never came. And being a scared child, I began obsessing over avoiding it. The next few days were probably me taking it easy being nursed back to health, hoping desperately that I wouldn’t throw up. And since the nausea continued due to my high iron content, I went to the doctor and got that anti-vomit medication. I’ve spent a decade preparing for/fending off something that simply wasn’t going to happen. The thing is, it’s not even that bad. Given how I acted the last time I actually got sick, I assume If I actually threw up then I would have just moved on with my life. 

12:48 PM

This morning I’m struggling to overcome things the way I did on Saturday. It takes such effort to truly believe “I’m Okay”. I feel decent, but the things I fear are constantly on my mind. Im meant to be realistic and KNOW that there is 0 reason to worry about anything. I know I’ll get better at this. Saturday was a big deal, I felt totally normal that whole night. I know if I keep working at it, I’ll reach that point a little longer each time. 

This fear is not sustainable. The way it currently operates, I’m constantly waiting for the ‘storm’ to be over. But it simply never is. Something small will trigger a mental event that will last awhile since only time can tell me if something is actually wrong. Then if that problem runs it’s course, another one will quickly take it’s place. There is no real end in this cycle. It has to be broken. 

1:24 PM

UGH time to sound cringe, but it’s for the sake of getting my feelings out to understand them. I’d say my heart yearns for companionship, but I know thats not really what suits me. At least not traditionally. Maybe I’m falling victim to society’s expectations that I need to be in a mutual closed relationship in order to be “successful” in the relationship department. But I don’t think that’s whats best for me. Or maybe it is, but hunting for it is not. I’m a firm believer in letting something like that just happen. Forcing it very seldom works for many reasons. I’d much rather be friends with someone and have that become strong enough to realize we love each other. Problem is that takes a long long time and is out of my control as to when it develops. I’d also prefer to be stable as a solo person first, otherwise I may become dependent on them. That CAN become a stable dynamic but I’d want to play it safe. 

I don’t know. I guess sometimes I just want someone I can kiss and hold and be there for. And someone that can hold me for reassurance. 

I’m so iffy about these kinds of feelings because of how bad I was about all this in high school. But I was a child then and I know that. However, it doesn’t change that the only experience I have in this area is really bad and full of adolescent heartbreak. But I am more cautious now. I know my problem before was getting too caught up and lost in searching for a relationship. I am mature now, I know all I want is a close healthy bond with someone no matter what it’s labelled. And I know I can get that not by trying to date or flirt, but by genuinely caring for someone and being there for them. 

6:24 PM

Anxiety is hitting a little harder tonight. I’m having trouble with it. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I cant just accept that NOTHING IS WRONG. I CANT JUST ENJOY MY LIFE. That would be too simple. My stomach is okay. Billions of people on earth right now aren’t concerned about the things I am. Everyone around me would think I was fucking crazy if I tried to explain why I was afraid. It’s not normal, there is no threat. Why can’t I just understand that.

I FEEL like if I commit to something that takes a few hours or something that my guard will be let down and something will happen because of it. But nothing ever happens. I don’t have that kind of control. 

Tomorrow is going to be fine. I’ll get my work done because I’m an ARTIST, thats what I am. Whatever storms happen tomorrow shouldn’t be that bad. BELIEVE IT. Sure I can’t know for certain but all signs point to some NON severe thunderstorms. Some wind maybe, but not crazy wind. 

I can’t even cry right now. At least let me let that out. Please.

Eventually it’ll click that I’m fine and maybe I’ll have a good evening. But it’s a fight to get there. Every fucking day. 

7:51 PM

FUCK these storms bro. I WAS worrying about nothing, but now the potential for more sever storms went up for Wednesday and Thursday. I’m angry that I can’t do anything about it and just have to relax until I get there I guess. It’s all I can do. Remember that I’m not even afraid of storms, I’m afraid of having anxiety when a storm comes. I just have to keep reminding myself that Im okay and I’ll keep being okay. Keep believing it. 

#journal

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 1/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is. 

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: Family death, cancer, absent father, cremation 

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t. 

“Do you want to say anything before we…” the operator asked her.

“No,” Y/N answered quickly.

“Oh, my assistant forgot to give you this,” the operator gave her a shy smile as he handed her a small cardboard box.

She opened it to find all of her mother’s jewelry that had been on her body at the funeral.

“Thank you,” Y/N told him.

“Ready?” The operator asked.

He had been so kind throughout the whole process. It was obvious he was used to people breaking down and being extremely emotional. 

But Y/N had been stoic, almost concerningly so. 

Though he wasn’t one to judge. Everyone grieved differently.

With the pull of a handle, Y/N watched her mother’s body going into the chamber.

“It will be a few hours,” the operator told her.

He meant it will it will take a few hours for her mother’s body to burn to ash. Then they would hand her a tacky vase with her remains.

Y/N just nodded. “I’ll go for a walk.”

As soon as she was outside, Y/N called her mother’s executor.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I was just about to call you.”

“I’m at the crematory,” she told him. “I figured we should discuss the bills that still need to be paid for.”

“Yes, of course. As I mentioned to you before, your mother’s life insurance covers quite a lot of it…” his words died out.

“But it’s still not enough,” Y/N finished for him. “I’ll get the money.”

She wasn’t exactly rich, but she also wasn’t living paycheck to paycheck. But people never realized how much money it cost for loved ones to die. It was honestly ridiculous.

“You might want to consider taking out a loan,” he tried to suggest gently.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Another thing, Ms. Y/L/N. There was an envelope with a name on it. And your mother left instructions on delivering the envelope to them.”

She stopped her pacing. 

“What name is on the envelope?” Y/N asked.

There was a pause.

“Bruce Wayne.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed.

Of course she knew who Bruce Wayne was – everyone in Gotham did, as well as most of the country. He was a billionaire playboy, only making headlines when he was a mess. But every once in awhile his philanthropy would sneak in there. Y/N always assumed those were only to help recover his image and not because he was a good person.

“You still there?” The executor asked.

“Yeah. I’m just a bit confused. But please pass it along to him, if that’s what my mom wanted.”

“I can’t. The instructions specifically say for you to deliver the envelop to him in person.”

“In person?” Y/N groaned in annoyance as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Why did all of this have to be so god damn complicated?

“Yes. Her instructions are…oddly specific."

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll pick up everything from your office before the work day ends.”

——————

Y/N stared at the envelop that she’d tossed on her coffee table as she sipped a rather large glass of red wine.

She was wracking her brain trying to think of a time when her mom mentioned knowing Bruce Wayne. But Y/N would’ve remembered her mom saying his name – even in passing. It’s not a name that one can drop casually.

Y/N pulled up her phone and googled him. But she looked at his history. Yes, he was from Gotham, as was her mom, but so were 10 million other people.

But then Y/N’s scrolling paused when she realized they went to the same high school: Gotham Academy. Not only that, they graduated in the same year.

‘Were they friends?’ Y/N wondered.

But just classmates or friends still didn’t seem to warrant a handwritten letter to be delivered after one’s death.

Y/N didn’t open the envelope.

Her mother’s instructions specifically told her not to. And if she put in that much of an effort to get this done after her death, Y/N wasn’t going to ignore such a request.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“Fuck,” Y/N sighed before throwing back the rest of her wine.

——————

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t grant you access to the building without your name being in the system by the company you’re visiting,” the building receptionist told her for the third time.

“I understand. But I called his office 30 fucking times and they refuse to put me through to him or get me an appointment,” Y/N practically growled.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I already called their office to say you were here and they didn’t recognize your name. I can’t let you through to the elevators.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the security guard who stood a few feet away. He was eyeing her now that there was clearly an argument going on.

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes. She had a good foot on him – even without her heels on. And he looked like he couldn’t run a 50 yard dash without passing out or vomiting. If he thought he was going to physically stop her, he had another thing coming.

“Listen, I am not some crazy fucking stalker. My mom knew Bruce Wayne and in her will she asked me to deliver this to him,” Y/N’s voice lowered and became disturbingly calm. “I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the security guard finally stepped forward.

“Oh, fuck off,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the rent-a-cop.

“Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” he continued.

“Call me ma’am one more fucking time…” Y/N growled.

But the security guard was taking a step to her.

“Excuse me. What seems to be the problem here?” A voice suddenly interrupted.

Everyone turned to see a young man – younger than Y/N – glaring at the security guard just as he was about to grab Y/N.

“M-Mr. Drake, we were just escorting this young woman from the premises,” the guard stuttered out.

Everyone at the building knew every member of the Wayne family. But unlike his siblings, Tim Drake was at the office almost every day. As one should be when they’re the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.

“For what reason?” Tim Drake asked.

“She insists on seeing Mr. Wayne. But she doesn’t have an appointment. For security reasons, I cannot let her through, obviously, unless the company she is visiting has put her into their system and the building’s system,” the receptionist explained nervously.

Y/N frowned as if she was bored of the whole thing.

Tim stepped forward. “May I ask what your business with Bruce Wayne is?”

Now that he was closer, Y/N noticed how exhausted he looked. He was handsome still, of course. But she wondered when he last got a good night’s sleep. He was shorter than her, probably standing at 5’5. And she still believed he was younger than her, which was wild seeing as he was already the CEO and couldn’t be older than 24.

Y/N sighed before she grabbed the envelope from her black leather satchel, and showed that Bruce Wayne’s name was handwritten on it.

“My mother wished me to personally deliver this to him.”

Tim tilted his head slightly. “Why isn’t she doing it?”

“Because she’s dead,” she shot back without emotion.

But Tim’s face became sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve assumed…”

“It’s fine,” Y/N quickly cut him off before he could continue.

She was so tired of being on the receiving end of people’s sympathy. It didn’t help. And the words stopped holding any meaning to her.

“But I’m sorry. Bruce isn’t in today. And he probably won’t be coming to the office for the rest of the week.”

“Oh,” was all she responded with.

Of course Bruce Wayne didn’t come to work. Why would he?

This was a stupid idea. And now she had made a scene because of it.

“But if you give me your information, I will personally let him know that you are trying to reach him.”

“Really?” Y/N asked in shock.

Tim smiled at her surprise. “Of course.”

“Here’s my card,” she quickly grabbed one from her wallet and then a pen. “All my info is on that.” She wrote something on the back. “And that’s my mom’s name.”

He took it from her and nodded. “What was your mother’s relationship with Bruce?”

Y/N shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to figure it out. Apparently they graduated in the same high school class. But that’s all I was able to find.”

He nodded.

“Thank you…Mr. Drake. For your help. Really,” she urged.

“Please, it’s just Tim.” Then he glared at the receptionist and security guard. “For you it is, at least.”

“Thank you again,” Y/N felt like saying it 30 more times still wouldn’t be enough.

“You don’t have to thank me. Someone will be in touch. Have a good day, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” she corrected with a smile before she nodded and started backing away.

He smiled at her correction and gave a final nod.

——————

Y/N didn’t expect to hear from anyone for at least a week.

If the Wayne family was one thing, it was busy.

They probably had parties to go to, meetings to attend, private jets taking them around the world whenever they wished.

Why would they ever prioritize a meeting with her, a stranger?

So imagine her surprise when she received a call from an unrecognized number the same day she gave Tim Drake her card.

“Hello?” She answered.

Usually she would let any unknown number go to voicemail.

“Hello,” a British voice answered. “Am I speaking with Ms. Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“This is she,” Y/N sat up straighter on her couch.

“This is Alfred Pennyworth. I work for Master Wayne and manage all his personal appointments. I was told by Master Tim that you wished to meet with him?”

“Uhhh. Yes. Yes, I do. Is that…is that possible?”

“Would you be able to stop by Wayne Manor on Friday afternoon?”

Y/N already knew she had nothing going on that would stop her from getting this done. But she still paused to pretend to think about it.

“Yes, Friday afternoon should be fine. Are you sure he doesn’t just want me to stop by Wayne Enterprises?”

It felt oddly intimate to stop by Wayne Manor. Wouldn’t they want to meet her in a more secure location like a corporate building with security that already hated her?

“He is quite certain. Should I send a car for you Ms. Y/L/N?”

A car?

Y/N felt even more out of her depth now.

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to meeting you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Thanks,” she answered before hanging up and realizing that probably wasn’t the proper response to such a polite goodbye.

——————

“I haven’t heard that name since high school,” Bruce had muttered as he stared at the business card for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Yes, and the end of your relationship did not end on the best of terms,” Alfred commented.

Y/M’s/N Y/L/N had been Bruce’s high school sweetheart.

An she had seen the last moments of Bruce’s normal life. 

Upon graduation, Bruce decided to leave Gotham and that’s how his second life was founded. The two of them broke up before the summer after graduation had even ended.

Well, “Breakup” was a strong word.

Bruce stopped answering her calls.

She was his first love and he continued to love her.

But once Bruce realized where his life was going and who he wanted to be, he knew he couldn’t drag her into it. She deserved better.

And Bruce was a coward about relationships then. Maybe he still was.

“I am certain you did a thorough background check on her already,” Alfred commented with a smirk.

Bruce took in a breath before listing off all of her accomplishments. “Y/F/N Y/L/N. Graduated number one in her class at Gotham Academy. She was the star of the track team, breaking the regional record for fastest time in 100m, 200m, and 400m races. Also captain of her soccer team. Attended NYU’s photography program before dropping out after a year. Now she’s a professional photography. Her work’s been featured in Vogue, New York Times, National Geographic…amongst others.”

“Rather an impressive woman,” Alfred said.

Bruce nodded.

“I should get the tea and coffee ready for her arrival.” And with that, Alfred left Bruce in the drawing room.

30 minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Bruce glanced down at his watch: she was right on time.

He heard Alfred saying his pleasantries before he heard the clicking of her heels as she rounded the corner to enter the room he was waiting in.

For being a famous photographer, she could’ve been a runway model with her height and the way she walked into the room, completely owning it. She wore four-inch heels, only adding to her natural tallness. And her bright, red coat only added to her presence.

For a split second, Bruce was convinced that he was looking at an Amazon. Diana immediately flashed into his mind for a split second. Perhaps that was what Y/M’s/N needed help with: to get her daughter to her real people. But how would she have known Bruce Wayne had such connections? Unless she knew Batman’s true identity…

As soon as Y/N spotted him in the room, he rose from his seat.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Bruce greeted.

He took a step forward and held out his hand.

“You guys really love the formalities.” She said it with a dark evenness, but it was clearly a joke. “Y/N is fine, Mr. Wayne,” she added as she shook his hand.

“In that case, it’s Bruce,” he countered with a soft smirk.

There was something so familiar about her. But Bruce knew they’d never met. 

“Thank you for seeing me. I don’t want to waste anymore of your time,” Y/N quickly got to it. She opened her purse to grab the envelope.

“My mom wanted you to have this. And she wanted to make sure I was the one to give it to you,” Y/N explained as she offered it to him.

Bruce took it carefully, but didn’t open it. “Yes, I heard about her passing. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she said hurriedly, making it obvious to Bruce that she did not want nor need his condolences.

Bruce nodded slowly.

There was a pause.

“Do you know what it says?” He asked her lightly.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t supposed to read it.”

“I see.”

“I should really be going. I have a flight to catch later tonight.” Most people that visited Wayne Manor wished to stay there forever. Or their curiosity got the best of them and their eyes took in every little detail.

But Y/N looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. And she wanted to get out as soon as she possibly could.

“Thank you again for seeing me,” she rushed out.

Without waiting for his answer, Y/N turned and started walking out of the room.

But she only got a few steps before she stopped.

Bruce watched her shoulders tense and her body move as she was clearly taking in deep breath.

Slowly, Y/N turned around to face him.

“Were you friends?”

Bruce gave her a watery smile. “She was my girlfriend in high school.”

Y/N seemed annoyed by that answer. “She never mentioned you. Not once.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed at that and his eyes zoned out as if he was revising the past in his mind. “I’m not entirely surprised. Things didn’t really end well between us.”

She nodded slowly. “Goodbye, Mr. Wayne.”

And Y/N turned and strutted out of the room without looking back.

As soon as Bruce heard her cab drive away, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter.

He barely noticed that Dick had walked into the room. “May I ask…Who was the extremely attractive and tall woman that just walked out?”

But Bruce didn’t hear him as his eyes raced across the letter. His heart sped as he continued reading.

“Bruce?” Dick asked after being ignored. “Is she your next conquest or what?”

It wasn’t until Bruce was done reading the letter for the third time that he finally looked up and acknowledged Dick.

Alfred had also walked into the room, unbeknownst to Bruce.

“You OK?” Dick asked, now concerned with how silent Bruce had become.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred also urged.

“That was…my daughter,” Bruce finally muttered.

Dick blinked before his eyes grew wide in shock.

Alfred seemed less surprised, almost as if he had already put that together.

“Excuse me,” Bruce told them and exited the room.

———

Dick and Alfred must’ve warned the rest of the family not to bother Bruce in the cave. Usually he would’ve been disturbed by now.

Bruce had been at the computer for hours.

Alfred was the first person to come down, carrying a tray with dinner and tea.

The butler wasn’t surprised to find Y/N’s face all over the screens.

If Bruce had left any available information hidden before inviting Y/N to the manor, it was all out there now. Bruce knew everything about Y/F/N Y/L/N that was public knowledge – probably even some things that were not.

“You know, you did not seem all that surprised,” Bruce said to Alfred as he put the tray of food down next to him.

“Seemed rather obvious, didn’t it?”

Bruce quickly turned to look at him. “It did?”

Alfred smirked. “Her eyes,” was all he said.

“The color?”

Alfred shook his head. “As soon as she walked into the manor, they were reading me.” He tilted his head in Bruce’s direction. “Observation. Perception. Attention to detail...That is all you, Master Wayne.”

“The way she held herself,” Alfred continued, "Shoulders held back, head high, walking with purpose. No hesitation.”

“Also me?” Bruce asked.

Alfred simply nodded.  

“I don’t think she liked me very much,” Bruce sighed.

He didn’t know how he felt about that yet.

“A lot of people think you don’t like them when you first meet them,” Alfred countered. “Because I don’t trust them yet.”

Alfred raised his brows and silently ask him, ‘Don’t you see my point?’

Bruce rubbed his face and reached for the tea on the tray, ignoring all the food.

“I don’t know why you’re so entertained by this, Alfred.”

“Yes, I was entertained. I just saw a younger, female version of you, Master Wayne.”

“I abandoned her,” Bruce shot.

“You didn’t know she existed,” Alfred corrected.

“And why do you think that is?”

Alfred’s face dropped a little bit when he noticed the envelope discarded on the far end of Bruce’s desktop.

He looked down at the ground as he asked, “Might I ask what the letter said?”

Bruce glared at the letter as if touching it would burn him.

But after a moment, he grabbed it and quickly handed it to Alfred.

Bruce,

If this letter has finally reached you, it is because I have passed.

I must admit that I wrote this letter mostly in the event that I leave my daughter before she is an adult. But once Y/N turned 18, I decided to still pass this along to you.

There is no easy way to tell you this, so I will get to the point.

The young woman who delivered this letter to you is your daughter, Bruce.

Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.

When I found out I was pregnant with her, I was only 18. We had just graduated high school. You had started traveling. You called less and less. And you grew more distant – physically and emotionally. Eventually, you stopped answering my calls altogether. I left you a voicemail, only saying that I so desperately needed to talk to you, that I needed you.

But you never called me back.

With no words at all, you made it very clear that you no longer wanted anything to do with me.

But there I was, a teenager who was pregnant with our child.

I would be lying if I said I never considered terminating my pregnancy. I was scared and you broke my heart. All I wanted to do was erase you from my life.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Once I decided what my future was going to be, I also decided that I did not want you to have any part in it.

I knew even if you pretended to play the doting father and the committed partner, you would grow tired of us eventually. You would resent me and our child for bringing you down. And you would brush us aside for yourself.

I realized I would rather Y/N have no father at all than one who would only disappoint her over and over again.

To this day, I truly believe I did the right thing for all three of us.

There are not enough words to explain the complicated woman that Y/N grew up to be. But I will try my best. I think I owe you that at least. 

Or maybe you have no interest.

I don’t know how she became so much like you, even when I never so much as showed her a picture of you or uttered your name.

She enjoys being alone – almost to her own detriment. I constantly catch her repressing her feelings, always staying strong for everyone else. It reminds me of you. She’s assertive and confident, never letting anything stand in the way of what she wants. Sometimes I don’t think she’s scared of anything. It worries me, just like it worried me when I thought the same of you.

I truly don’t know what you will do with this information.

But…if you have any desire to form some sort of relationship with her, then you should know this: she will not make it easy for you. She will push you away. And she might even hate you. I raised her to never need a man in her life, and she’ll make sure you know that.

I don’t expect anything from you. I never did.

But I would just like to know there might be someone who will be there for her should she need them.

Goodbye, Bruce.

Alfred slowly handed the letter back to Bruce when he was finished.

“I pushed her away because I knew what I was about to become,” Bruce explained darkly. “And I didn’t want her anywhere near it. She would’ve been in danger.”

“Y/N, as well,” Alfred added.

“But had I known…if I just listened to her–”

“Master Wayne, I thought we had agreed to never linger on the ‘what ifs.’”

That sure silenced Bruce.

“Now, what do you plan on doing, Master Wayne?”

———

Y/N frowned when her phone started vibrating and she recognized the name of her mom’s executor on her phone screen.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, how are you?”

“Fine. How are you?” She was quick, wanting to get this over with. Surely, he had bad news. Another medical bill came in or some other expense that slipped by them.

“Good, good. Just curious…have you placed any payments to our various claims?”

“Uhhh…no. But I’m working on it.”

Y/N hadn’t expected to get a call nagging about paying bills.

“No, no, no. You misunderstand. They’ve all been paid,” the executor explained.

Y/N sat up straighter in her chair. “What? That’s not possible.”

“An anonymous donor. They somehow got record of all your outstanding payments and covered all of them.”

Y/N was stunned to silence.

“Ms. Y/L/N…this is a good thing.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Right. Yes, of course. I just…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank this guardian angel of yours.”

---------------------

Part 2

Let me know what you think!!!

#bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #bruce wayne reader insert #batfam #batman #batman x daughter!reader #dad!bruce wayne #dad!batman #batman family #batman universe #batman angst #bruce wayne angst #alfred pennyworth #father!bruce wayne #father!batman

[bellarkeselection]

Buckley Baby

Request from @raveenasblog Buck and reader take care of Maddie's baby and the reader gets attached and finds it difficult to give her back..

I've only finished season 2 so I might not be exact :)

Maddie enters the apartment carrying her baby and a bag in her arms. I get up from the couch wearing a sweatshirt and gym shorts with my hair completely loose. "Hey, Mad's what's up?" She drops her bag at the stairs sitting her sleeping daughter beside me on the couch. "Since you and my brother are off today I need you two to babysit my daughter while I go to work."

Her face shows how tired she is since Chimney isn't speaking to her. Leaving her to raise the baby on her own for some time. Being a 911 operator meant long hours and she couldn't bring the baby to work with her. I felt bad that she's so overwhelmed but her brother and I are both firefighters of 118 so we both understood that sometimes the job takes over.

Speaking of her brother we watched him walk down the stairs. Finishing pulling a red tea shirt over his head smiling at me. "Hey babe...Maddie?" He asks shocked finally reaching the end of the stairs. "Why are you here?" His gaze shifted from his sister to me as I smile down at a still sleeping Jee-Yun.

"Buck, I need you and Y/n to babysit." She told him and he winces at the idea. "Babysitting a baby. You know I'm not good with kids." Flipping my hair over my shoulder I fought his words. "That's not true. You're great with kids. What about Eddie's son?"

Buck aims his index finger to me with a rebuttal. "He's not a baby, Y/n." I playfully roll my eyes back. "Buck Buckley you'll run into a burning fire but you're afraid of what'll happen with an adorable baby." Maddie bats her eyelashes in a begging tone. "Buck please. You'd be helping me out of a jam today."

I gasp remembering one trick that always works on him. Calling him Evan, I'm the only he"ll allow. "Pretty please Evan. I've already gotten so attached to this cutie." I begged cuddling up with Jeee who is now awake and giggling points at her mommy. He runs a hand through his hair smiling at me. "Alright you win Y/n. Just be lucky you're cute." Throwing my fist up in victory maddie laughed leaving us with her daughter.

You know when buck said he wasn't good with babies...it was a totally lie. We've dealt with some dipper and food messes, but she's the best. Buck comes to lay on the bed now wearing a different tea shirt that she threw up on. I'm laying on the bed with little Jee asleep on my chest bringing a smile to my face. Since I was a little girl I new I wanted to have a family of my own. Buck and I have been dating for a year now and he's not been acting like Buck 1.0 as he referred to himself awhile back. We'd never discussed on the idea of having kids before.

"She's just so cute." I grin feeling his eyes watching the both of us before getting up to answer his phone. The conversation was brief because he comes back to whisper. "That was Maddie. Her shift ended early so she's coming to pick up Jee."

Without a second thought I gently wrap my arms around her careful not to wake her up. "No, she can't. I've grown too attached. Buck, call her back and say we're keeping her!" He grins a little before cracking up in laughter at me cuddling deeply with his niece. I stick my tongue out at him until a smirk meets his lips.

"Buck..what are you thinking?" I knew to be suspicious of that look. Usually Bobby would have to yell at him for it because it meant he was going to do something crazy. He crawls back in the bed on his hands and knees catching me by surprise when he deeply kisses me. I barely get any chance to kiss back before he pulls back whispering in my ear. "What if I gave you a baby?"

I pull him backwards so I can see his face with a curious smile I question. "You mean that. I mean we never talked about - are you serious?" He nods staring into my eyes deeply. "Yes, I'm serious. On one condition though."

"Anything, Evan." I nearly squeal at the idea as he rests a hand to my cheek shifting his gaze down to Jee. "You have to give my sister her baby back when she gets here. Do we have a deal, Y/n?"

Pulling his lips down to mine by grabbing the collar of his shirt with my freehand I grinned once we separated. "We have a deal." He grins flopping on his back pulling me and Hee into his side for some last minute cuddles before Maddie gets here.

I can't believe I'm gonna have a baby with him.

#request #evan buckley x reader #evan buck buckley imagine #requests open #asks are always appreciated