badchoiceroad



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    He doesn’t get nightmares. He doesn’t dream about the mask, the cries of the villagers, waking up in the desert with a blinding headache and his mouth filled with blood and the man who’d saved him gone, most likely dead.

    Instead, he just can’t sleep.

    Language:
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    22 May 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Phasma issues to the FN unit refurbished datapads plundered from a demolished Resistance base, which have been refilled with First Order propaganda. Naturally, FN-2187’s datapad malfunctions and resets to its original settings. Before FN-2187 can properly panic over this, a message is sent to him by a Resistance fighter under the code name Black Leader. It’s one simple word: “Status?”

    FN-2187 wakes up to the orders of committing coldblooded murder and falls asleep to the despair of the dead. He’s one step away from messing up and getting reconditioned. When Black Leader asks how he’s doing, even if the question isn’t intended for him, FN-2187 can’t help himself.

    He replies, “Alive.”

    Language:
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    27,366
    Chapters:
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    21 May 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Ronan was just—this. His silent presence next to Adam was a statement as loud as if he'd said it.

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    08 May 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 7

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    “We’re in this together. It’s our job. It’s us against them. Nothing else matters, alright? No apologies, no regrets. Fuck them.”
    “Yeah, but—”
    “No nuance, Parrish. Don’t think so hard. We’ll be fine. Copy?”
    Adam stared back at Ronan, grateful again that he was with Ronan, who was so sure.
    “Copy.”

    Adam and Ronan, part of a team of professional spies, are taken captive.

    Language:
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    05 May 2026

  5. Public Bookmark 7

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    "'Lynch,' Adam’s voice had a tired little rumble to it as he stepped into the narrow bathroom and proceeded to crowd the slightly taller and broader boy against the cabinet, closing the drawers by pushing him against them. No matter how angular and even aggressive Ronan’s last name sounded out of most mouths, Adam’s always curled softly around the syllable. A quiet huff escaped Ronan’s lips, and he could feel a blush blooming on his sunken cheeks. If he were any less infatuated, he might have stopped in his tracks to consider that the clutter he had heard was caused by his boyfriend’s arrival rather than his gremlin of a dream-child-girl-daughter and raven, which left him with suspicious silence from the latter two troublemakers. But who was he to even attempt to form such a critical thought when long slim fingers were curling around his bicep and cradling the still-exposed skin stretched over his left hipbone. "

    or, Ronan was merely planning on shaving his head, but then there is Adam and who is Ronan to even attempt to form a single thought when there is Adam.

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    04 May 2026