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paperbackribs · 3 months

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werewolf steve, werebat eddie (ch3)

🐺🛌🦇🥺

It’s the quiet conviction that he’s in the wrong bed that wakes Eddie the next morning. The mattress too soft, the pillow too thick, and the boy next to him is an unwavering, giant red flag too. He sighs, hand under his cheek and contemplates the sleep-creased face of Steve Harrington next to little old Eddie Munson.

And he thought turning into a bat was going to be the only weird part of this weekend.

Steve snuffles, twitching his nose before falling back into a steady breathing rhythm again. And Eddie would like to deny how cute it is, would like to refuse to see how handsome Steve is, and would very much like to pinch the thin river of greed winding through him that would like the chance to have a fun, kind guy too. Someone who stirs Eddie, makes him laugh. But that’s not his fate in this lifetime.

He turns onto his back, staring directly above at the bubble pattern of the ceiling and determinedly focusing on more important matters.

Like the fact that he’s a bat now.

Apparently.

Rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, he wonders what the hell to do with that knowledge. It’s not going to get him anywhere; there’s no big corporation that wants to hire bat services. Last he heard, the ability to squeak wasn’t going to land him a record deal. Eddie huffs out a laugh, maybe he can get into acting. Take this gig out on the road.

No, just like having to watch a girl be brutally murdered in front of him and only barely scraping past that hack job Hawkins PD called an investigation, Eddie is going to have to take his lumps and keep moving.

He peers at the awful plaid wallpaper of the bedroom. Unsurprised by the banality of it, the hint of wasted money on lack of taste, but he is surprised by the pleasant abundance of greenery across the whole space. Potted plants crowd every available surface, some with trailing vines flowing over containers hanging from the ceiling. Even with the window closed, the room smells fresh, a clean sweetness to the air that matches the shiningly healthy and obviously well-cared for leaves, flowers and, he peers closer, herbs.

He wonders whether Steve dug these out of the woods with his big furry paws or if he’d bought them at the local nursery. Looking at the array of sizes and colourful patterns on the clay pots he figures that Steve shelled out a decent amount of money for his botanical set-up.

It twinges something in Eddie. Steve, just as taken in by the Upside Down, doomed to forever be a half-man and half-beast too, but sleeping peacefully within an oasis of his creation, sheltered by the tall walls of the Harrington home, with friends who love him, who don’t care about the monster within.

It feels unfair.

Because what is Eddie now? A monster? Maybe. A creature? Definitely. This new change in his life won’t make it any better, it won’t give him any advantages. It’s just one more thing he’s going to have to hide. To squirrel away like a tender thing lest the soft belly of it be exposed to the type of people who would hurt him.

Hurt, he knows, comes in many different forms. From a father believing your best value is in using small hands to boost a car, in the indifference of a mother leaving you on your uncle’s doorstep, on your best friend pushing you to the floor when you try to kiss him.

He looks over at the effortlessly handsome features of Steve, at his expensive and beautiful room, and thinks that whatever risk Steve carries, it is nothing like the one Eddie would be exposed to if his new secret got out.

He spots a familiar animal on the cover of a book on the bedside table. Curiously, he picks it up, flicking his eyes over the types of bats in the world, their characteristics, advice on care, and other little random facts.

Steve stirs, smacking his lips his eyelashes flutter before his gaze opens to land on Eddie bent over the book. He’s under the blanket that Eddie lays over; his bat version must have crawled out of the hoodie at some point but remained on top of the bed. Last night had been a blur and he doesn’t remember much except panic followed by Steve’s warm hands.

“Hey,” Steve smiles sleepily, “You came back to us.”

Eddie grunts, “Yeah, not sure exactly how that happened, but small blessings and all that.” He scans the feeding behaviour header, noting that blood is indeed amongst fruit, insects, and nectar as their preferred diet. Pausing, he tastes his mouth like it’ll suddenly reveal an obvious craving for bloody flesh. Meeting only morning breath, he grimaces and continues reading.

Finally realising that Steve has been silent for an unusually long pause, he glances over only to be startled by the intent look in his eye as he regards Eddie. “Are you okay?” He asks quietly and Eddie bristles at the concern, resentment stirring that Steve gets to be the kind one. The guy who cares despite being similarly afflicted. Why can’t he be just as resentful and mean as Eddie?

“Well, it’s not a giant dog, but I suppose you should welcome me to the club.”

Steve purses his lips thoughtfully, “I’ll ignore the canine dig for now since I know you’re going through something. But I get it, you know? If you can talk to anyone about being suddenly faced with the oddity of waking up in a body that no longer feels like your own, it’s me.”

Eddie rolls his eyes down at the book, “Our life experiences are vastly different, Steve. I don’t think you could get where I’m coming from if you tried.”

“Maybe not all of it,” Steve admits carefully, sitting up so he and Eddie are on the same level, “But I can try. And it’s got to be better than holding it in. You’re a pretty verbal guy, Eddie. I figure’d you’d want to talk about this.”

“What’s that mean?” Eddie glares at him and Steve raises his palms, saying, “Just that you seem to like talking your thoughts out, and that I’m here, willing to listen if you want to get anything off your chest.”

“Yeah, well, you can keep that hairy chest to yourself,” Eddie mutters darkly, looking at a bat’s mouth held open, exposing sharp fangs from front to back like a deadly, serrated knife. He presses his tongue against his molars thoughtfully; he doesn’t remember there being a lot of sharp tools in his mouth.

“Right,” Steve huffs out a frustrated breath, “You’re obviously in a mood. But fair, you’re allowed to take a beat until you get your feet under you.”

“I’m allowed,” Eddie mocks under his breath.

Steve cocks his head, “Yeah, you’re allowed. Just like I was allowed to take a beat too, once I figured out that turning into a wolf wasn’t a hallucination or a mental breakdown.” Eddie ignores him and Steve says with frustration, “What’s your problem?”

As he does, Eddie’s eyes catch on a fun fact section, and he can’t help the grim laughter that escapes. Of course. Of fucking course. He hears the mounting irritation in Steve’s voice as he calls his name again and latches on to it, happy to smack back. “Did you know, Steve,” Eddie starts, meanness fuelling his smirk, only he has a feeling that the petty feeling is directed inwards. “That bats have the highest rate of homosexuality out of any mammal?”

Steve watches him warily, “Are you saying that the shift turned you gay? ‘Cause I’m not sure it works like that,” his lips tug up cautiously, “It didn’t for me, anyway.”

Eddie sees the invitation to share the joke in Steve’s expression and it fuels the bitterness, “Yeah, well, you being a straight dog isn’t going to surprise anyone.”

Invitation dropping accompanied by eyes narrowing, Steve says, “That’s fucking condescending.” Eddie sees the insult across his face and rolls his eyes, conviction spreading that Steve has never had to think about how he presents to the world for one fucking minute before being afflicted with their shared infection.

“All I’m saying is that the wolf stuff may have made you a bit weird, but you were never gay-boy-in-Hawkins weird to begin with. Let alone the shitty kid from the shitty family with parents who don’t give a fuck.”

Steve’s eyes harden and he sucks his breath between his teeth consideringly, “I’m not sure whether I should share with you how wrong you are or simply tell you to fuck off.”

Eddie stares back just as hard, “You can’t tell me that you were ever the weird guy, Mr Popular Jock. What? Did you get ostracised from the team when you wore the wrong lucky jock strap?”

Rolling his lips, Steve nods his head decisively, “Yeah, you know what? I am going to tell you to fuck off.” Any hint of warmth in his expression shutters away and Eddie blinks, not having realised how open Steve had been with him even while they bickered. Steve continues, voice flat and unfriendly, “You know what your problem is, Eddie?”

“What?” He tries to sneer but the feeling of being wrong-footed continues and it lands with less force than he wants.

“You think you’ve got everyone worked out,” Steve trails his eyes over Eddie's face leaving his skin feeling flushed and burning, “What was it you said in the Upside Down? The Munson Doctrine? I was barely enough for you to approve of even then, right?”

The ground beneath Eddie’s feet shudders slightly, shaking his gut into an uneasy feeling but Steve doesn’t notice his suddenly shaky equilibrium as he bitingly continues, “I suppose I only met the bare minimum when you said that I was a good guy: I wasn’t a massive asshole that would allow you to take the rap for Chrissy’s murder or, I don’t know,” he laughs with very little humour, “Let Max be killed by Vecna? So that must mean I was scarcely half decent, right?”

Eddie frowns: he had meant what he said in the Upside Down — he’d seen Steve care for the party, chase after Max and make sure the kids were safe. He’d been a steady port in the storm who Eddie had looked to more than once while feeling unsafe and unsure, and Steve had always been looking back, with either a reassuring nod or a helpful explanation in the sort of plain speak necessary for a newbie to their wretched adventures.

Steve rolls out of bed and Eddie can’t even be mad that he might use his height to his advantage because he heads straight to the doorway, pausing with his hand steady on the frame. He shakes his head looking down, “I thought that you saw me. It didn’t have to be every part, but I thought that you at least saw that I’m trying to be a good person.”

He looks up and Eddie is pierced clean through by the hurt in his eyes, the walls falling briefly to allow this one sad glimpse, “But ever since I showed you who I really am, what I am, I’ve realised that your approval comes with conditions.”

“That’s not true,” Eddie protests, furiously thinking, but his gut sinks below his feet when he can’t work out a counterargument to the accusation.

The walls over Steve’s eyes swiftly build up again, leaving only a cold man in its wake. “You assuming how easy I’ve always had it tells me that you never cared enough to look below the surface anyway.” He regards Eddie for one last long second as if taking him in for the final time, and Eddie is unsure how to respond when the ground is rumbling so strongly under his feet.

Steve leaves.

Quietly and without looking back at Eddie. No fanfare in the movement as if he’s decided that he’s not worth the fight. He realises now that he’d expected Steve to push back, to argue for Eddie to do better, but—having left him behind—Eddie doesn’t know what to do other than to quietly take his book and leave.

No one sees him out.

If you enjoyed any of this, I hope you'll consider leaving a message over on Ao3 because you would make my day. :)

#scattering a wee bit of conflict on the grass for the chickadees #steddie #swift wings and a brave heart #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #werewolf steve harrington #bat eddie munson

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 months

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Bateman Begins Part 42

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Notes: I'm aiming to have 3-4 more chapters before wrapping this up. Just a heads up.

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader

Rating: M

There's police tape criss-crossing the front entrance, and across a few of the windows

The kitchen door is untouched

The camera outside of it appears to be disabled

You scour around, spotting a large rock

It's cool and heavy as you pick it up, and you find yourself wincing before you even throw the damn thing.

The shattering seems ear-splitting in the relative silence around the mansion.

"Sorry, Alfred," You mutter as you slide your sleeve down over your hand, reaching through the broken pane to unlock the door.

The quiet is eerie as you walk around. The mansion has always been enormous, but walking through it alone and hearing the echo of your footsteps makes your stomach churn with discomfort.

Are the cops monitoring this place? They must be, right? Is there anyone stationed nearby, watching the house?

You do not have time to be booked for breaking and entering

And how would that even play in the press?

Deranged Bateman Enterprises Employee Returns to Gotham and Breaks Into Missing Boss' House

Vicki Vale would probably love that.

At least you have an alibi for whatever the hell happened.

And what the hell did happen?

You duck beneath the police tape cordoning off his lab, looking around.

There's police tape across the window there, too. If police had seen Bateman—well, Batman—leaving through there...

You turn to the bookshelves as you consider the possibilities.

Maybe Nathan had to have been coming or going, saw the police and ran.

But to not come back?

Something must have been deeply wrong.

You walk over to the bookshelf, gently levering down Nathan's false copy of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep and waiting as the bookshelf sinks to the side.

You walk cautiously toward it, eyeing the elevator. The structure seems secure; nothing appears to be out of place.

You step onto it and pull the lever to lower yourself into the cave.

You turn to look down, listening as the clanking of the machinery awakens some of its bat inhabitants.

Everything in the cave seems as untouched as the mansion. You press your hand to the biometric scanner, looking up as the screens come to life.

Camera first, you think.

Maybe some of the questions that you have can be solved by whatever footage you can get from the mansion.

But when you try to view the logs from the past few days, access is denied.

There's a password protection of Nathan's that you can't override.

You try everything that you can possibly think of, but nothing pops.

You're in the middle of attempting to override his security when a livestream of the news catches your eye.

Your brow furrows as you eye the runner:

CLOWN GANG UNLEASHES CHAOS IN GOTHAM—MAYOR GARCIA INSTITUTES CURFEW

You reach down, turning up the volume on that feed.

The anchor's voice crackles slightly before steadying:

"For our top story: Gotham has been gripped by fear as a gang of masked perpetrators wreak havoc on the city. Authorities have struggled to contain the situation, with the Gotham PD launching a city-wide manhunt. Graffiti of clown figures and Joker cards have appeared on buildings across the city, with the rate of their creation outpacing the city's ability to cover or remove them. Mayor Garcia has mandated a city-wide curfew in attempt to stem the rising tide of clown-related crimes. Meanwhile, rumors continue to circulate about the disappearance of both Nathan Bateman and Batman. Some are questioning whether the billionaire has chosen to resume the hermitage that he held after college, or if he's being held for ransom by the masked vigilante. Others speculate that Batman is somehow behind the growing clown posse."

The footage flickered to an older woman on the street, her brows knitted as a microphone is thrust into her face.

"I've never seen this many clowns in my life. Not once. Not even when the circus came to town. Not even when I met my ex-husband's family."

You frown as the footage flickered to a familiar face—one that turns your stomach.

Vicki looks a little flighty, and hardly stands still to answer the question that the reporter poses. Her face is pinched; there are dark bags under her eyes as she gives a staccato reply:

"No one has ever seen Nathan Bateman and Batman in the same room, have they? No one. His last name is one letter away—has anyone ever considered that?"

You scoff, shaking your head.

She's right, of course, but that doesn't exactly settle your nerves.

The news turns to another interview—a young man with closely cropped hair, his features obscured behind a thick smear of white makeup and overdrawn red lips.

"Why's everyone getting so worked up over a little makeup?" His face splits into a grin as he grasps the microphone and runs away with it, cackling gleefully into it.

You wince at the sound of the laugh, a chill running down your spine as it pricks memories of your nightmares.

The footage cuts back to the anchor in the studio shuffling their papers before they fold their hands over their notes.

"Commissioner Gordon has urged citizens to remain vigilant and report and sightings of suspicious acrobatics, or people wearing an excessive amount of makeup or face paint."

You reach out, turning the volume back down as you lean back, eyeing the other news feeds.

"Jesus, Nathan," You sigh. "What the hell happened?"

You can't stop staring at the trash can.

Why the hell did Nathan keep them?

No—No, it can't be the same trash that it was when you left. You haven't been in the Blue Room in almost two years.

You came up in the vain hope that you may have a thing or two left in here, but...It's the same.

Everything is the same.

The designer clothing and bags that Nathan got you are still in the drawers and closet.

Your favorite products are still in the ensuite bathroom.

And as you crouch down and pick up one of the crumpled pieces of paper, your blood running cold as you spot your handwriting.

You drop it again and straighten up, bracing your hands on the desk as your chest tightens.

Why did he leave it like this? Did he close the door and forget about it?

Did he think you were coming back—

You turn away, pushing a low groan out as you shake your tingling hands out, trying to push back your conflicting confusion and hope.

Fuck, whatever it was won't matter until you figure out what the fuck happened—

Bzzzzzz

You freeze at the sound of the brief buzz. It stops as suddenly as it starts...

You wonder if maybe you imagined it—

Bzzzzz

You look around the room, frowning. What the hell is that?

It's close enough that you can hear it, but it's not in the room anywhere.

Bzzzzz

You step into the hall, following the sound toward Nathan's room.

You find yourself raising your hand to knock, then shake your head. No one is in there, right?

You're still hesitant to open the door, wincing at its creaking before you step inside. The buzz grows louder as you approach his bedside table.

You open the drawer and find it...Empty.

But you can still hear and now feel the vibration. You knock on the bottom of the drawer, thrilling as you hear the hollow thonk.

It takes a few tries, but you find the small tab to lift the false bottom and find...

A flip phone.

A flip phone? Why the hell would Nathan have a flip phone?

This seems like the kind of thing that he would've mocked you for having when you first met.

You pull the phone out of the drawer, eyeing the caller ID.

C.G.

You hesitate before you flip it open, raising it to your ear.

You don't speak, you just listen.

For a moment, you hear nothing. And then—

"Where the hell have you been, man?"

The man's voice is familiar. It's on the tip of your tongue...

"Still not talking?" He pushes. "You're lucky I'm not tracing this call after all the shit you pulled. Look—the mayor is on my ass. I need you to meet me tonight, usual time, usual place."

You flounder wordlessly before you push out the lowest, gruffest answer you can: "Can't."

You wince. Damn—You couldn't sound like Nathan if you tried.

The man's so flustered that he doesn't seem to notice.

"The hell do you mean, can't? You can't go AWOL like this. I need you to rattle some cages. I've got a lead on this clown gang, but I can't go after it myself."

You scrub your hand over your face. You can't go after them the way Nathan could, but you could do some research, right?

"Send the information," You grit out.

"It's too sensitive to send."

Fuckssake.

"...I'll send an address and time," You manage before snapping the phone shut.

You stare at the phone for a few moments, braced as if it'll explode.

When the man doesn't call back, you push out a soft, relieved breath.

Alright, you need somewhere you can meet whoever this is—somewhere you know the terrain, have the upper hand.

You may have once promised Nathan that you'd never go back to the Narrows without him, but he isn't there.

You are. You need answers.

Whatever this person has might lead you to Nathan.

But how the hell are you going to turn up without revealing who you are to...Whoever this is?

Nathan's armor is too heavy for you.

You're not in bad shape, but Nathan is strong in a way that you aren't.

You can pair down...Can't you?

You don't need all of the armor. If you play this right, whatever this meeting is won't end in conflict.

But you have a bigger problem than the armor.

You can't growl all night. That little bit in the bedroom hurt, and you'll never get away sounding the way you did in person.

You look around the lab, trying to cobble your thoughts together.

The helmet. You'll start with the helmet.

You'll need to adjust the design to include a voice modulator.

Okay. You can do this.

You've sent the C.G. contact an address and a time. You'll meet with him at five to midnight. You have eight hours.

You need to make the voice modulator first.

Once that's done, you'll go through the cave and see if any of the lighter kevlar that you designed and ordered is still there.

You're not as worried about covering your legs, but your arms, chest, neck, and voice are what you're worried about tonight.

With any luck, this is the only iteration of this suit that you'll need, and the only time that you'll need to wear it.

Tag list: @blueeyesatnight ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @foxilayde @danniburg ; @brandyllyn ; @missredherring ; @the-feckless-wonder ; @ew-erin ; @xocalliexo ; @youngkenobilove ; @chattychell ; @lorecraft ; @thembosapphicclown ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink

#Nathan Bateman x Reader #Nathan Bateman x You #Nathan Bateman/Reader #Nathan Bateman/You #Nathan Bateman fic #Nathan Bateman imagine #Bateman Begins #Nathan Bateman Batman AU

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ladyredmoon13 · 11 months

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DCxDP prompt

The Legacy of Carrion Crow

Ida Manson has seen many things in her days. Many good and bad things that have passed before her eyes at moments without her control. She's just glad that the creation of the Justice League was one of the good things she could see happen in her life time.

Back in her day there was no JL, and it showed; but that didn't mean there weren't heroes. There were, just not as many as there were today. And as spread out as they were they would rarely cross paths with one another. She would know, she kept tabs on all of them.

Now back when she was young the thought of a woman fighting at all let alone fighting crime was simply not excepted. That didn't stop her though. Ida started the way most heroes now began. With a crime-infested city, a father in peril, and a desire to change things for the better.

She became something of an urban legend. The Mob feared her. The streets whispered about her. The police respected her, or rather the cops who weren't dirty did anyways. Hey, what do you expect from 1960's Chicago?

Anyways she was something of a Batman in her time. A vigilante, a detective, a hero to many, and a nuisance to many more. You couldn't prove she was real but you know she existed. There was just one difference between her and him though.

She's not proud to say it, but Ida had blood on her hands. Both as Ida Manson and The Crow. The number of times she had to take out a monster not worth redemption could be counted on one hand, but it was there all the same. This was how she got the name, Carrion Crow. She thinks that's why she respected the Bat so much. He never killed. He never thought there was no other option. No other way out.

Then again Batman never looked Richard Speck in the eyes and saw no hope. She's just happy she managed to find enough evidence to put him away for life. The cops were happy about that.

Working with the cops was also how she met her late husband. He was a detective and a damn good one at that. He had a 97% conviction rate but he never bragged about it. He was just focused on doing the right thing and helping clean up the city he loved. It was no wonder he became commissioner later on.

They met on the rooftop of the old Chicago PD building. The commissioner at the time, Johnson; introduced them and later made him the liaison between the police and the Crow. They hit it off. Like two peas they were.

She shared her identity with him and he shared his past with her. She knew he was the bastard son of a mob boss and yet she didn't care. He was a good man with a good heart and that was all that mattered. The fact he didn't mind and even encouraged her to be the Crow didn't hurt either.

Time passed, and she got older. Deciding to retire was a hard decision but one she was forced to make. Only for the youngest of her two sons to take up the mantle. She was mad, downright furious when she found out.

She should have expected it, of course. Out of the two he was the one that was the most like her. Her oldest son taking after Idas' late mother. As much as that annoyed her. She still loved Jeremy but goodness he needed to loosen up.

The decision to leave Chicago was a hard one. She was born here and grew up here, but her husband wanted to live someplace a bit quieter than the bustling city in his old age. So they moved to a quiet little town almost an hour away from the city.

Leaving the house to her youngest son so that he could still use her old Crows Nest. Jeremy didn't seem to mind much about his brother getting the house. After all he and his new fiance were going to be coming with them to Amity Park.

Time passed and she lost her husband. She became a grandmother and boy did her granddaughter remind her of, well her when she was young. And boy did little Samantha love her uncle. She thought he was so 'cool' and was practically glued to him when he came to visit.

He once jokingly said that if she keeps growing up the way she is we might have another Crow flying around. He made the mistake of saying that right as little Sam skipped into the room. They were forced to lie to her. She didn't want to but Jeremy didn't know about her nightly activities from years ago. Nor did he know that his baby brother was now doing the same.

So lie they did. Sam for her credit was very smart and had known that something was up, but still let it go because her 'awesome' uncle asked her to. And because he promised her ice cream, before dinner!

Tragedy struck not long after that. Her youngest son, her baby boy died. Not as the Crow though but in a motorcycle accident involving a police car chase of three bank robbers. They were devastated, none more than poor Samantha.

Crime got worse in Chicago after that. Apparently crime bosses were smart enough to realize that the Crow was gone but not smart enough to figure out who he was. She made sure of it. She had done worse than send mobsters on wild goose chases before after all.

Soon Sam grew into a spectacular young spitfire. Much to Ida's delight and her parent's chagrin, they could get over it. After all, it was genetic. Though she couldn't say the same for that little friend for her granddaughter's.

Yes, she knew all about Danny and his little secret. She suspected as much when she noticed him acting strangely not too long after his little accident in his parent's lab. An incident that coincided with his shift in behavior and after some digging Ida found what they were hiding. She was still a detective after all. Retired as she may be, but still sharp as a tac.

She decided to help where she could. Jumping in when she knew she could get away with it. She even began teaching Sam some martial arts when things seemed to be escalating. Then the GIW showed up and things only got worse.

Ida tried to get ahold of her some of her old contacts. She even tried some that were even affiliated with the JL, but nothing went threw. For the first time in a long time Ida was afraid for her family, for her home. Danny could only do so much for this town and she could see that it was weighing on the poor lad.

He needed help. He needed someone to watch his back. Not just the way she had been for almost a year now. Ida Manson knew what she needed to do and with a little convincing, she could manage to pull it off.

Once summer came Ida and Sam would go on a little pilgrimage to Chicago. Maybe take her friends with them if they can manage it. Once there this old Crone will take them down to the Crows Nest and do what should have been done long ago.

The Carrion Crow will fly again, and this time they're not coming for mobsters and petty thieves. She's coming for the GIW.

#danny phantom #batman #dc x dp crossover #sam manson #danny fenton #tucker foley #justice league #justice leauge unlimited #justice leage of america

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gorgynei · 1 year

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The Somnovem and Predathos Theory

Can we talk about Predathos and the Somnovem? I've been dying to talk about Predathos and the Somnovem. There's something here, I smell it.

Theory under the cut, its a doozy.

First of all, "Factorum Malleus" (translates to Creator Hammer) and "Malleus Keys" (translates to Hammer Keys). Aeor and Predathos have a concrete, canonical connection. Ludinus went deep into the Genesis Ward, found the Factorum Malleus project, and developed it further into the Keys to release Predathos. It's unclear whether Aeor also wanted to release Predathos, or if they were just trying to use part of its power to create god-killing weapons, but regardless, Aeor knew about Predathos. Thats a big deal and it explains why the entire pantheon held a ceasefire during the Calamity to completely wipe them out.

Knowing that Aeor has a connection to Predathos makes their fanatical Cognouza ward more suspicious. It's possible that the Somnovem were actually worshiping/serving Predathos but all record of it's existence was wiped with Aeor's falling, so we never knew.

When the Nein first learned about Cognouza, it was due to a psychic wave put out by Vokodo in his final moments, flashing them all into Vokodo's memories. This is similar to the flash that Imogen put out when she gave into Ruidus's power in e33-e34, even down to Bell's Hells being forced into their own memories. While not concrete, the shared usage of emotion-driven psychic waves and memories is notable.

The Somnovem believed in the power of the mortal mind and imagination. In other words, they believed that a brain could manifest psychic power, and they were right: Imogen Temult is living proof of that. They share in the ideas of the power of the mind, even down to the Somnovem communicating telepathically and in dreams.

The Somnovem, or at least members of it, also share many sentiments with the Ruby Vanguard. The Ruby Vanguard wants to release Predathos in order to destroy the pantheon, release mortals from fate, and embrace freedom in that. Ira, upon meeting the Nein, says "Creation is born from destruction, and if all that is worthy of us is destroyed, then so much more can be created or forgotten. All the Gods and the fates that threw us to torment and death, they all will pay" (c2e137) which mirrors that idea extremely closely. Timorei says "You know the terror of the end, mortal ones. The nothing, the acceptance of fate or even oblivion. We-- we cannot end. No, at all costs, oblivion must be destroyed" (c2e137), once again bringing up the idea of disrupting fate and the natural order of things. It's possible that what was originally interpreted as the Somnovem being split on whether to bring Cognouza into the world could have actually been a much larger debate on whether to bring Predathos into the world and destroy pantheon, at least in part.

When Cognouza was transported into the astral sea, it was harassed by a "terrible psychic storm" that drove them mad. Psychic storms haunt all of campaign 3. There's the red storms on the surface of Ruidus and Imogen's dreams, both intimately connected to Predathos and to the power of the mind. Cognouza could have targeted by a powerful psychic wave directly from Predathos, which would explain the strange mind-melded state they end up in and the madness that permeates the entire city and anyone who gets too close.

Additionally, Ruidus flared in 836 PD. Cognouza was also destroyed in 836 PD. It's impossible to know if these are completely connected or pure coincidence, but if Cognouza was a long-running Predathos plot, it's destruction would likely warrant an outburst from the moon.

While delving in Aeor, Lucien discovers a mural depicting "a ring of nine red ovals, with a dazzling starburst in the middle, and that decorated with a single open eye. Enlightenment" (from the Nine eyes of Lucien). Every other symbol of the Somnovem has been just nine red eyes. This "starburst" in the middle could be a subtle nod to Predathos, especially with the way it seems the nine ovals are inferior to this one, greater eye. Lucien seems to believe this represents enlightenment, and he's probably correct. The Aeorians are famously non-religious, so fanatical devotion to a god-killer and it's ideals may have still only looked like extreme belief in a particular school of thought, rather than worship to a particular entity.

There's the obvious too: the nine eyes being red. Red can mean a lot of things. There are plenty of red things in Critical Role that are totally unrelated to Predathos and Ruidus. But when red is the primary colour and representation of unchecked alien energy, and a strange fanatical city with possible connection to that energy is also red? It stops being so chance. Not a big thing on its own, but worth mentioning.

When Cognouza was destroyed, Kingsley felt the "strange black chains that invisibly wove through that city" break and heard an "angry, unknowable, primal, ancient cry". It's widely assumed that this is Tharizdun due to the chain-imagery and general madness that the city is connected to, and I do think that's likely, but if Tharizdun is actually somehow connected to Predathos (both of them are alien beings that got locked away, after all), it could be both of them.

*gestures wildly at all of this* do you see?? do you SEE???? There's something. There's something here.

#btw if you're curious about how i know that malleus keys translates to hammer keys: malleus is a small bone in your ear that's also #known as the hammer (bc its shaped like a hammer) and factotum is a word meaning ''someone who does everything'' so #factorum -> creator and malleus -> hammer #cr spoilers #critical role #cr speculation #cr theory #critical role theory #predathos #somnovem #cognouza #aeor #mighty nein #bells hells #bell's hells

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